Part 19

Under the British princes, the bards and minstrels were associated in corporate, or rather collegiate bodies; into which none were admitted but such as had given proof of their skill in the respective sciences before proper judges, duly appointed by royal commission. And although the institution is now dissolved, and the character officially no more, yet those who, “born with music in their souls, _that_ wish to feast on raptures ever new,” will consentaneously say,

“But hail ye mighty masters of the lay, Nature’s true sons, the friends of man and truth! Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay, Amused my childhood, and inform’d my youth. O let your spirit still my bosom soothe, Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide! Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth; For well I know, wherever ye reside, There harmony, and peace, and innocence abide.”

BEATTIE’S MINSTREL.

The distance from Caerwys to Denbigh is about ten miles. You pass Lleweni Hall, formerly occupied by the Hon. Thomas Fitzmaurice, uncle to the Marquis of Lansdowne, brother to the Earl of Shelburne, and father of the late noble possessor. Mr. Fitzmaurice used here to bleach the cloths made on his estates in Ireland. He travelled to Chester in his coach and six, and when there stood behind a counter selling cloth. He lived with the affected humility of a tradesman, and the pomp of a lord: his conduct was singular, but his motives were good.

DENBIGH,

situated nearly in the centre of the vale of Clwyd, is a well-built town, standing on the declivity of a hill. A large manufactory of shoes and gloves is here carried on, and annually supplies London with a vast quantity. The ruins of the Castle, still remaining on a rock commanding the town, are too celebrated in history, and too cruelly shattered by the ravages of war, to be passed unnoticed. The principal entrance forms a fine Gothic arch, with the statue of King Edward the First, its founder, above it, in an elegant niche, curiously carved, encircled with a square stone frame. No part of this castle is perfect; but the huge thick fragments, which are scattered in the most extraordinary and fantastical manner, seem to tell its former magnificence; and a present view of things, such as they are, with a retrospect of what they originally were, spreads a gloom over the mind, and interrupts the pleasure of contemplation; yet still the singular character of this ruin is particularly interesting. Masses of wall still remain, the proud effigies of sinking greatness; and the shattered tower seems to nod at every murmur of the blast, and menace the observer with immediate annihilation. Amongst these ruins we lingered till the whole was silvered by the pale rays of the moon. To form a conjecture on the extent of its apartments is now impossible; but it is thus described by Leland in his _Itinerary_.

“The castelle is a very large thinge, and hath many toures in it; but the body of the work was never finischid. The gate-house is a mervelus strong and great peace of worke, but the fastigia of it were never finischid. If they had beene, it might have beene counted among the most memorable peaces of workys in England. It hath dyverse wardes and dyverse portcolicis. On the front of the gate is set the image of Henry Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, in his stately long robes. There is a nother very high towre, and large, in the castelle, caullid the Redde Towre. Sum say, that the Earl of Lincoln’s sunne fell into the castelle welle, and there died; wherapon he never passid to finisch the castelle. King Edward the Fourth was besiegid in Denbigh castelle, and ther it was pactid betwene King Henry’s men and hym that he should with life departe the reaulme, never to returne. If they had taken King Edwarde there debellatum fuisset.” After the restoration of Charles II. it was blown up by gunpowder.

The parish church stands within the walls of the original town. Below the castle are the fragments of an old church, which, for particular reasons, that cannot now be ascertained, was never finished: it contains nine windows on two sides, with a large and handsome one on the east.

In this town was born the famous Sir Hugh Myddleton. The market is held on a Wednesday: its distance from London, through Mold, is 218 miles.

In conjunction with Ruthin and Holt, it sends a member to Parliament. The principal inns are the Bull and the Crown.

The vale of Clwyd still retains the character of luxuriant fertility. About two miles from hence, in our way to

RUTHIN,

“Denbigh, fair empress of the vale,” with its tottering towers, formed a most beautiful landscape; whilst the neat little hamlet of Whitchurch peeped from among the pomp of groves.

At the small village of St. Fynnon St. Dyfnog, this curious inscription over a door,

“Near this place, within a vault, There is such liquor fix’d, You’ll say that water, hops, and malt, Were never better mix’d;”

invited the “weary-way wanderer” to partake of the _good things_ within. This inclined us to be better acquainted with the author of this _extraordinary_ stanza; and we entreated the landlord to be our director to the much-esteemed well of St. Dyfnog. Passing through the church-yard, and from thence through the passage of an alms-house, we reached a plantation of trees, with a broad gravel walk, almost concealed from day’s garish light by the thick foliage. This brought us to the fountain, enclosed in an angular wall, which forms a bath of considerable size; and so

—“far retired Among the windings of a woody vale, By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty, conceal’d,”

that the “lovely young Lavinia” might here plunge into the flood, secure from the intrusion of Palemon. Many wonderful qualities are attributed to this fountain; but it is more particularly celebrated for the cure of the rheumatism; the water has no peculiar taste. We returned by a subterraneous path under the road, which led to the pleasure grounds adjoining the seat of Major Wylyn.

Several seats were beautifully dispersed on each side of the vale; among which Lord Bagot’s and Lord Kirkwall’s formed the most prominent features in the landscape.

Ruthin is a large neat town, only divided from the parish of Llanruth by a strong stone bridge: the church, which is beautifully situated, is a handsome modern edifice: and the site of the old chapel is now converted into a bowling-green. Owen Glendwr, as an act of revenge on Lord Grey, plundered the town in the year 1400, during a fair, and then retired among the mountains. In the last century, the loyalists fortified the castle, and sustained a long siege in the year 1646.

We still continued skirting the rich vale of Clwyd; but winding up a steep hill, overlooking the whole of it from one extremity to the other, we were reluctantly compelled to bid a final adieu to all its vistas, hamlets, steeples. The whole prospect, glowing with luxuriance, seemed to assume fresh beauties at this our farewell view: the cattle, which were grazing in the shorn meadows, and beautifully contrasted with the ripening corn, appeared more animated; and we discovered, or thought we discovered, an additional number of villages, peeping from the woody skirts of the sloping hills. From this point the vale is certainly seen to great advantage. To give a still greater effect, a thunder-storm came rolling on, and the clouds were

“Silent borne along, heavy and slow, With the big stores of steaming oceans charged.”

This storm compelled us to seek for shelter in a miserable pot-house; but the civility of the landlady fully compensated for its want of accommodations. The effects of the storm rendered the remainder of our journey much more agreeable, and the heat less oppressive: a dull uninteresting road continued till we arrived within four or five miles of

WREXHAM.

The contrast was too striking to escape our notice; but, having climbed a steep eminence, the eye commanded an almost boundless range of land; and the faint colour of the hills, retiring in the distance, was beautifully combined with the mellow green of nearer woods. The counties of Cheshire, Shropshire, and a considerable part of Wales, were extended like a map, for our inspection; the town of Wrexham, rising in the bottom, animated the scene, with its noble tower overtopping the numberless little steeples near it. Close to the road we observed several coal and lead mines, and a melting-house for forming lead into pigs: these works belong to Mr. Wilkinson.

The dirty outskirts of Wrexham by no means prepossessed us in favour of the town; but, viewing it more leisurely, we can safely affirm, that it is not only the largest, but the best built town in Wales.

A friendly clergyman conducted us to the church, an elegant building of the reign of King Henry the Seventh, and called one of the seven wonders of Wales. The tower is a hundred and forty feet high, and esteemed “a beautiful specimen of the florid, or reformed Gothic, which prevailed about that time.” All the figures and ornaments are well designed, and still in high preservation. The inside is not less elegant; it has lately been neatly repaired, with a good gallery and organ: the painted altar-piece is well executed. On the left, facing the altar, is a very handsome monument by Roubilliac, to the memory of Mrs. Mary Middleton; both the design and execution reflect the highest credit on the sculptor. The subject is the Last Day: at the sound of the trumpet a tomb of black marble bursts open, and a beautiful female figure, clothed in white, appears rising from it, just awoke from the sleep of death; her form dignified; candour, innocence, and celestial joy shine in her countenance, and give it the most feeling and animated expression. In the back-ground an obelisk, supposed to be erected to her memory, is rent asunder: above an angel, enveloped in a cloud, is pointing to brighter scenes.

In this church are two other monuments, executed by the same celebrated master, in memory of some of the Middletons. Their designs, though striking, cannot be compared to his Last Day.

The altar-piece was brought from Rome by Elihu Yale, Esq. whose tomb bears the following inscription:—

Born in America, in Europe bred, In Afric travell’d, and in Asia wed: Where long he lived and thrived—in London died. Much good, some ill he did, so hope all’s even, And that his soul, through mercy, ’s gone to heav’n! You that survive and read this tale, take care For this most certain exit to prepare. When blest in peace, the actions of the just, Smell sweet, and blossom in the silent dust.

Our worthy conductor, perceiving we were great amateurs of painting, and careful that nothing of consequence should be passed unnoticed by us, particularly wished us to examine the performance of a young artist then at Wrexham. A copy, amongst others, of a painting of Rembrandt’s, taken by Mr. Allen from a celebrated picture, in the possession of Lord Craven, was most ingeniously executed. The subject is an old man instructing a young boy; the attention of the latter most admirably preserved; the head of the former, and the hand particularly, most highly finished. Without any exaggeration, this painting would do credit to the most scientific painter, and be esteemed invaluable; it is therefore to be hoped, from the hands of so young an artist as Mr. Allen, that this performance will be disposed of where judges of painting may view it with a critic’s eye, and recommend its merits to those who can afford to encourage industry and ingenuity.

Our friend’s invitation to his hospitable parsonage, and agreeable family, was too kindly urged possibly to be refused: and, in our way to

MARCH WIEL,

we visited the seat of P. Yorke, Esq. The grounds and plantations are very extensive; and the bowery walks, while they afford refreshing shelter from a summer’s sun, allow partial views of the counties of Cheshire and Shropshire, with the Wrekin and Brydyork Hills; in short, through these groves

“How long soe’er the wanderer roves, each step Shall wake fresh beauties, each short point presents A diff’rent picture—new, and yet the same.”

The tower of Wrexham, and the town itself, as occasion offers, is a nearer and an additional charming object. In an alteration of the walks, a few years since, were discovered below the surface of the ground the shattered walls of an ancient castle. These fragments Mr. Yorke has left unimpaired, and they remain a memento of the vicissitudes of fortune: the entrenchments round the castle, and likewise the original site of the keep, are still very apparent.

The house itself is very indifferent: Watt’s Dyke runs through part of the grounds. In a parlour opposite the garden we observed some fine paintings of the Hardwicke family. Mr. Yorke has dedicated another room to the royal tribes of Wales, {279} where the arms and lines of the descent, as far as they can be traced, are emblazoned and hung up.

In the coolness of the evening our hospitable host conducted us to the neat and elegant little country church of March Wiel, lately cased with stone; and in the year 1788 ornamented with a new painted window, by Mr. Egington, near Birmingham. The twenty-one compartments contain the arms and crests of the Middletons and Yorkes, with rich transparent borders. This window is undoubtedly very elegant, but the subject, in my opinion, more adapted to a ball than an ornament to a church window. The high tower appears not in proportion with the body of the church.

Deeply impressed with sentiments of gratitude towards our reverend friend, and sensible of his hospitality and kind intentions, we took our leave of him early the next morning, and pursued our route to

RUABON,

purposing to visit Wynnstay Park, the much-admired seat of Sir Watkin Williams Wynne. On leaving March Wiel, a most delightful prospect spread before us; in the retrospect, the tower of Wrexham Church brought to our recollection the views of Magdalen College tower, in the vicinity of Oxford.

The park of Wynnstay is well stocked with red deer; excellent plantations; and the house is an elegant modern structure; but has nothing in the inside particularly deserving the attention of the traveller. In the grounds the chief object worthy of inspection is a very elegant obelisk, erected to the memory of the present Sir Watkin’s father. The height is a hundred and one feet; the base of it sixteen, and the top nine, built with free-stone, and fluted. Round the top is formed a gallery, with a handsome urn in bronze, after an elegant design, cast in London: round the base of the column are wreaths of oak leaves, in the beaks of four eagles, cast in the same metal. On the south-west side is a door, with a stair-case within the obelisk leading to the top. We regretted that the key could not be procured, as the prospect from that elevation must be extremely fine. On the other three sides an appropriate inscription, in English, Welsh, and Latin, is to be carved.

Through this park runs Offa’s Dyke, thrown up by the great King of Mercia, from whence it derives its name, to check the irruptions of the Welsh, mark the confines of each country, and give greater security to his own. It begins at Basingwerk in Flintshire, and ends at Chepstow in Monmouthshire; extending in a line of not less than one hundred and fifty miles over rocks and mountains. This great undertaking still retains the ancient name of Clawdh Offa, or Offa’s Dyke.

Passing through the little village of Ruabon, situated at the extremity of Sir Watkin’s park, a very interesting and picturesque country, composed of rich valleys and gently sloping hills, presented itself to our view; and, at some distance, we soon caught a glimpse of Chirk Castle, a noble seat of the family of the Middletons, standing on an eminence. Four miles from Llangollen we inquired for the wonderful

PONTCYSYLLTY AQUEDUCT, {281}

(pronounced Pont y Casulte) or famous aqueduct, erected near that bridge, over the river Dee, and found ourselves within half a mile of this great and astonishing undertaking. The stone of which it is built resembles that of Portland; and the effect which it produces, from whatever point it is viewed, is highly pleasing. On the middle column is the following inscription:

“The Nobility and Gentry of The adjacent counties, Having united their efforts with The great commercial interest of this country, In creating an intercourse and union between England and Wales, By a navigable communication of the three rivers, Severn, Dee, and Mersey; For the mutual benefit of agriculture and trade, Caused the first stone of this aqueduct of PONTCYSYLLTY, To be laid on the 25th day of July, M.DCC.XCV. When RICHARD MYDDLETON, of Chirk, Esq. M.P. One of the original Patrons of the Ellesmere Canal, Was Lord of this Manor, And in the reign of our Sovereign, GEORGE the Third; When the equity of the Laws, and The security of Property, Promoted the general welfare of the nation; While the Arts and Sciences flourished By his patronage, and The conduct of Civil Life was improved By his example.”

“Pont y Cyssyllte, a bridge of several arches, close to it, is quite eclipsed by its stupendous height and magnitude. In it we recognize the great water conveyances of ancient Rome, which, though superior in point of length, were inferior in other respects. Its direction is north and south, crossing the Dee at right angles. It forms, connected as it is with the surrounding fine scenery, a noble and magnificent picture; but to view it to the best advantage, the stranger must ascend the acclivities on either side of it: from whence he will be highly pleased with a scene, in which there is every concomitant circumstance that can please the lover of nature and art.”

The extent of the aqueduct is nine hundred and eighty-eight feet, and exhibits nineteen arches, each forty-five feet span. The summit has a water-trough of cast iron, one thousand and nine feet in length, and in breadth eleven feet eight inches. The elegant piers lessen upwards gradually, from ten feet width, and twenty-one feet depth at the base, to seven feet width, and twelve feet depth at the top. These piers are one hundred and sixteen feet high from the river, and from their ending, to the greatest height of the building, twenty feet; making the total elevation, one hundred and twenty-six feet. To each end of the aqueduct are added ten feet six inches of iron work. From centre to centre of each arch are screwed together eleven strong iron plates, as strengthened.

The lime rocks here are very great; and, by calcination on the spot, are rendered fit for immediate use; and, as the Ellesmere canal is opened for public traffic, they must yield immense profit to the proprietors, who are now enabled to supply all the neighbouring counties, Chester, Liverpool, &c.

Wood, water, and sloping hills, all combine to render this vale interesting. Several detached cottages are sprinkled through its wooded declivities; and here and there a gentleman’s seat, “embosomed high in tufted trees,” makes a pleasing feature in the fascinating landscape. Returning to the turnpike road, a short saunter soon brought us to the romantically-situated town of

LLANGOLLEN,

(pronounced Thlangothlen) completely environed with mountains, with a high hill to our right, bearing on its narrow peak the small remains of Castle Dinas Brân. The bridge, adjacent to the town, thrown over the rapid Dee, consisting of six arches, and formerly esteemed one of the principal wonders of Wales, by no means answered our expectations. Some difficulty, no doubt, attended its first erection, as the foundation is built on the solid rock.

The elegant description of the valley in the kingdom of Amhara, by Dr. Johnson, is very applicable to Llangollen; for “all the blessings of nature seemed here to be collected, and its evils extracted and excluded.” Without a sigh of regret, not like the discontented Rasselas, I could here pass the remainder of my days, “in full conviction, that this vale contains within its reach all that art or nature can bestow. I could pity those, whom fate had excluded from this seat of tranquillity, as the sport of chance, and the slaves of misery.” Such is the enviable situation of Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby; who, thus veiled in obscurity, have fitted up, in a true characteristic style, an elegant little cottage, at the west extremity of the town, situated on a knoll. The two rooms which are allotted for the inspection of strangers, are very handsomely furnished: the dining-room is ornamented with drawings, the most favourite spots in the vicinity being selected as the subjects. The window commands a prospect of the mountains, which awfully rise in front. The study, looking on the well-arranged plantations of the garden, was appropriately furnished with a choice collection of books. We regretted, in the absence of the gardener, that we could not gain admittance to the grounds. The vale of Llangollen, and this enviable retreat, have been the subject of much admiration, both in verse and prose; and highly deserve the praises which have been lavished upon it:

“Say, ivy’d Valle Crucis; time delay’d Dim on the brink of Deva’s wand’ring floods, Your ivy’d arch glitt’ring through the tangled shade, Your grey hills tow’ring o’er your night of woods; Deep in the vale recesses as you stand, And, desolately great, the rising sign command; Say, lovely ruin’d pile, when former years Saw your pale train at midnight altars bow; Saw superstition frown upon the tears That mourn’d the rash, irrevocable vow; Wore one young lip gay Eleanora’s {285a} smile? Did Zara’s {285b} look serene one tedious hour beguile?”

The bridge of Llangollen is thus described by the elegant pen of Mr. Pennant:—“The bridge, which was founded by the first John Trevor, bishop of St. Asaph, {285c} who died in 1357, is one of the Tri Thlws Cymru, or three beauties of Wales: but more remarkable for its situation than structure. It consists of five arches; whose widest does not exceed twenty-eight feet in diameter. The river usually runs under only one; where it has formed a black chasm of vast depth, into which the water pours with great fury from a high broken ledge, formed in the smooth and solid rock, which composes the whole bed of the river. The view through the arches, either upwards or downwards, is extremely picturesque.”

Having satisfied our curiosity, Dinas Brân, or Crow Castle, next invited our attention; and having attained the summit of a steep and craggy hill, commanding a pleasing view of Llangollen, we arrived at the ruins, which crest this precipice. The remains of this castle are now so trifling, that it scarcely repays even the enthusiast the trouble of ascending. Its appearance is by no means picturesque; not a tree to give effect to the crumbling walls: nor has time spared one of the towers. It was formerly the residence of Myfanwy Vechan, so celebrated in verse. The castle is built of the stone which composes the hill, on which it is erected.