Transcribed from the 1827 G. B. Whittaker edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
SOME ACCOUNT
OF
LLANGOLLEN
AND
Its Vicinity;
INCLUDING A
CIRCUIT OF ABOUT SEVEN MILES.
* * * * *
Dedicated, by Permission,
TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY ELEANOR BUTLER, AND
MISS PONSONBY.
* * * * *
BY W. T. SIMPSON.
* * * * *
LONDON:
G. B. WHITTAKER, AVE MARIA LANE.
T. AND W. WOOD, BIRMINGHAM;
AND ALL OTHER BOOKSELLERS.
* * * * *
1827.
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE
LADY ELEANOR BUTLER,
AND TO
MISS PONSONBY,
THIS ACCOUNT OF
Llangollen and its Vicinity
IS, BY PERMISSION,
MOST HUMBLY DEDICATED,
BY THEIR MUCH OBLIGED SERVANT,
THE AUTHOR.
ADVERTISEMENT.
FORTUITOUS circumstances having occasioned me to become an inhabitant of
Llangollen, I was charmed with the beauty of its situation; and the
political importance in which this neighbourhood was formerly held
prompted me to collect a few notices of its local history, which I was
advised by some of my friends to publish. The condescending politeness
of the Ladies of Plas Newydd, in permitting me to dedicate my Work to
them, encouraged me to proceed; and I now venture to present my little
Book to the Public, earnestly hoping that its defects will not be found
such as to render it deserving of severe criticism, and that it will
prove generally useful.
W. T. S.
CONTENTS.
Page
AQUEDUCT of Pontcysyllte 62
Authorities 195
Berwyn Mountains 47
Brynkinallt 33
Castell Dinas Bran 84
Chirk Castle 23
— Village 30
Clawdd Offa, or Offa’s Dyke 11, 19
Conclusion 193
Dee, River 137
Glyn Dyfrdwy 145
La Crucis, or Pillar of Eliseg 129
Llangollen Town 1
— Church 178
— Bridge 143
— Vicarage 77
Llantysilio 110
Llys Pengwern 78
Plas Newydd 188
Ruabon, or Rhiwabon 12
Subscribers 197
Trevor Hall 72
Valle Crucis Abbey 113
Wynnstay 14
Llangollen
AND
ITS VICINITY.
“Here let me still with simple Nature live,
My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay;
Enjoy the blessings that she meant to give,
And calmly pass my inoffensive day.”
THE attraction of North Wales, by its romantic scenery, the antiquity of
its language, and the well authenticated records of its desperate
struggle for independence, renders every part of the Principality
interesting, and perhaps none more so than the beautifully picturesque
town and neighbourhood of Llangollen, which have deservedly excited the
attention and admiration of a vast number of strangers and antiquarians.
Nor have the expectations of its numerous visitors been disappointed;
for, though the Alps may raise their towering summits to a greater
height—may embosom in their dark recesses more ample lakes, and give rise
to more magnificent rivers—yet even they cannot present a more pleasing
variety of scenery, or more picturesque views, than those with which
Llangollen is surrounded.
This small market town is on the border of North Wales, and is situated
in that part of the county of Denbigh which adjoins Shropshire. It is on
the south {2} bank of the river Dee, and the mail road from London to
Holyhead passes through the town. The distance from London to Llangollen
is about one hundred and ninety miles, and from the latter place to
Holyhead seventy-seven miles.
The town consists of one long badly paved street, and a short cross one,
together with some courts and alleys, called squares, but which at
present ill deserve an appellation generally conveying to the mind an
idea of neatness, if not of superiority, as they are for the most part
formed with obscure mean-looking houses, built of the dark-coloured
silicious stone procured from the rocky bed of the river, and from the
surrounding hills. The houses are seldom more than two stories high, and
have a very sombre appearance, except where the owners have had the good
taste to avail themselves of the lime which is near at hand, in
rough-casting or plastering the fronts. The difference of the appearance
of the buildings thus finished is so advantageous that it is to be hoped
the plan will be generally adopted.
Increase of population has here the effect which is usually attributed to
it, viz. a manifest improvement in the town. The last census states the
number of houses at 289, and of the population at 1287; but the
inhabitants may at this time (A.D. 1827) be fairly estimated at 1500, and
habitations in proportion. Among the newly-erected houses are some very
neat buildings, at which private lodgings may be obtained, with every
requisite accommodation.
Llangollen has a market on Saturday, and five fairs in the year, viz. on
the last Friday in January, the 17th of March, the 31st of May, the 21st
of August, and on the 22d of November; at which, horses, horned cattle,
pigs, butter, cheese, &c. are sold. A market house once stood where the
Hand Gardens now are, and is a convenience much wanted. Besides the
London Mail to Holyhead, which passes through Llangollen every afternoon
at five o’clock, and leaves the letter bags, which it takes up again
about eight o’clock every morning, there are regular stage coaches
passing to and from London and Holyhead every day. Light vans, for the
conveyance of luggage, &c. pass twice a week from Salop. There are also
waggon conveyances, through Wrexham, to Chester; and boats on a
collateral branch of the Ellesmere Canal, which start at stated periods
for Liverpool, &c.
There are twelve licensed inns and public houses in this little town, all
of them very respectable; and whether it is owing to superior management,
or to the excellence of the water, which is the most pure imaginable, and
flows abundantly in every part of the town, the ale brewed in Llangollen
is in great and deserved repute all over the kingdom.
Two principal inns and hotels adorn the town—the Hand inn, which is in
the centre, near the church; and the King’s Head, at the west end, near
the bridge. The excellent accommodations afforded in both of them are
not surpassed; they are under the best regulations, and abound with
elegance and convenience. Post carriages and horses are kept at both
houses, and the harp resounds in their halls. The Viceroys of the sister
kingdom, as well as the nobility, seem to regard Llangollen as a
favourite resting-place, in passing from one country to the other.
Mountains and hills enclose the town on every side. On the south, the
Berwyn Mountains raise their lofty heads. On the north, Castell Dinas
Bran, vulgarly called Crow Castle, seated on its conical summit, frowns
over the town in ruined grandeur, and is backed with the vast and
wonderful range of lime-stone, which forms a ridge stratum super stratum,
and is called the Eglwyseg Rocks. A portion of these rocks, with the
little tumulus-like hill of Pen y Coed, forms the eastern barrier. On
the west, the lofty Gerant, {7} or Moel y Barbwr, with the Bwlch Coedd
Herddyn, and other distant mountains, close the scene.
The sacred Dee, which here foams along its rocky bed, is crossed by a
stone bridge at the western extremity of the town; the church stands in
the centre; and at the east end is Plas Newydd, the residence of the two
highly respected ladies whom Miss Seward has recorded in song.
Having thus given a brief sketch of Llangollen, embosomed as it is in a
vale where all the beauties of nature seem to concentre, I shall proceed
to retrace and fill up the outline of the picture, by classing under the
name of each remarkable place its description, and the particulars of its
history, quoting from and referring to authorities as I proceed; but as,
from the varied scenery and the romantic views with which this
neighbourhood abounds, an attempt to do justice to its several beauties
would be vain, I shall abstain from endeavouring fully to describe what
requires a more nervous hand than mine to paint; leaving to the reader’s
taste full scope to select the scenes most congenial to his disposition,
assuring him, that whether the dreary waste, over whose vast plains
sterility and barrenness hold eternal sway; or the luxuriance of verdant
meads and shady groves—the sombre haunts of secluded retirement; or the
soul-inspiring gaiety of nature in her most lightsome mood—be most in
unison with his frame of mind, here may be found solace for the
melancholy, amusement for the gay, exercise for the naturalist, and food
for the antiquarian and philosopher.
As a commencement of my proposed tour, I shall now beg my reader to
accompany me on the north side of the Dee, to Clawdd Offa, or Offa’s
Dyke, the ancient boundary of this part of the Principality.
Clawdd Offa.
“The best concerted schemes men lay for fame
Die fast away.”—
“O lamentable sight! at once
The labours of whole ages lumber down,
A hideous and misshapen mass of ruin.”
OFFA was the eleventh King of Mercia, and succeeded Ethelbald, A.D. 757.
He was born deaf, lame, and blind. About the year 776, {11a} he caused a
deep ditch and rampire to be made across the country, to curb the
incursions of the Welch, beginning at the waters of the Dee, at
Basingwerke Abbey, in Flintshire, to the river Wye, in Herefordshire;
{11b} or, as some say, to the Severn sea. Like the famous wall of China,
it is carried over rivers, rocks, valleys, and mountains, and extends
nearly one hundred miles. {12a} I intend to commence my excursion with
this ancient Dyke, and pursue it as far as is consistent with my plan.
It runs through the parish of Ruabon, which is on the west side.
Ruabon, or Rhiwabon,
Is a neat pleasant village, about six miles east of Llangollen. It is
surrounded by mines of coal, ironstone, &c. with which the neighbourhood
abounds. One of the recently formed joint stock companies, denominated
the British Iron Company, is said to have expended on two works in this
neighbourhood £134,952. {12b} There are also other large ironworks, &c.
within about two miles of the town.
The church is dedicated to St. Mary, and is a very respectable ancient
structure. It has an excellent organ, and a pretty font of white marble,
both given by the late Sir W. W. Wynn, Bart. who has left behind him a
character for beneficence that has been rarely if ever equalled. This is
the burial-place of the highly respected family of Wynnstay; and in the
church are some ancient monumental remembrances, as well as some more
recently erected ones, of Sir W. W. Wynn’s ancestors, well worthy
inspection. Dr. Powel, from whose celebrated translation of the
Chronicle of Caradoc of Llancarvan I have obtained much information, was
Vicar of Ruabon in 1571, and was buried here. The monumental records of
Sir W. W. Wynn’s family are highly panegyrical; but I cannot in this
small work give copies of the epitaphs, and to record the good deeds of
this excellent family would fill a folio.
Adjoining the town of Ruabon, a road passes into the park, and to the
mansion, of
Wynnstay,
The hereditary estate of the ancient and honourable family of Sir Watkyn
Williams Wynn, Bart. A porter resides at a small house on the left side
of the entrance to the park, who admits all strangers requesting it. A
beautiful road leads to the mansion, and large herds of deer exhibit
their graceful forms and agility among the surrounding trees. Offa’s
Dyke runs through the grounds, which are of very great extent, well
wooded, tastefully laid out, and kept in nice order. The house is very
extensive, and the stables also capacious. The premises have acquired
their present magnitude by various additions made at different times by
the possessors.
In the eleventh century it was the residence of Madog Gryffydd Mailor,
{15a} Lord of Bromfield, and of Dinas Bran, near Llangollen. It was then
called Wattstay, from another old dyke still visible, named Watt’s Dyke;
and the space between that and Offa’s Dyke was a sort of neutral
territory, on which the Welch and Saxons used to traffic with each other.
{15b} When the noble family of the Wynns became its possessors, the
original name was changed to Wynnstay. The house is replete with
elegance and convenience, and is the seat of hospitality as unbounded as
the benevolence of its owner’s heart. Under the auspices of the late and
present noble possessors, both the edifice and grounds have nearly
attained the ne plus ultra of perfection; yet at this time a vast
addition is making to the magnitude of the park, by changing the
direction of the road to Oswestry. In short, Wynnstay is one of the most
beautiful seats, not only in Wales, but even in the United Kingdom.
In the park stands a fluted freestone column, erected to the memory of
the late Sir W. W. Wynn, Bart. by his mother, who survived him. The
elevation, after a design by Wyatt, is about one hundred feet, and is
surmounted by a bronze urn. The base also is of bronze, decorated with
eagles and oak leaves, and bears this inscription:—
“Filio optimo, mater, eheu! superstes.”
Which may be thus translated:—
“A surviving mother, alas! to the best of sons.”
A spiral staircase runs within the pillar to the top, from whence is a
fine view of the park and grounds.
There are other recently erected decorative buildings on the domain; one
of which, called Waterloo Tower, and built to commemorate the glorious
victory obtained at Waterloo by the Duke of Wellington, commands a very
extensive prospect: on it a flag is always displayed when Sir Watkyn is
at Wynnstay. Another tower is built on a most beautiful spot on the bank
of the Dee, called Nant y Bellan, i.e. the Dale of the Martin; and was
erected, as I learn from the Oration in the Ellesmere Report, p. 24, to
the memory of those ancient Britons who fell in quelling a dangerous
rebellion in a neighbouring island, now more closely united to us. Near
this place a boat is kept for the purpose of crossing the river.
From the old house a road is continued on the rampire of Offa’s Dyke for
nearly two miles, and bears the whimsical title of Llwybr y Cath, i.e.
Cat’s Path, although it is wide enough for two carriages to pass abreast.
The ardent and inquisitive traveller will find in the interesting domain
of Wynnstay much to examine, much to amuse, and much to admire.
Returning through the park to the high road, I crossed the Dee over a
recently erected iron bridge; and entering the parish of Chirk, I soon
regained Offa’s Dyke, the peculiar features of which plainly distinguish
it. The Dyke crosses the road to London about two hundred yards to the
west of Whitehurst’s new toll gate, and about four miles and a half from
Llangollen. Pursuing the line of the Dyke towards Chirk Castle, I found
in it a number of large and long grey stones, mossed over, and lying
confusedly at the bottom. They are very remarkable, as there are no
quarries in the neighbourhood, from which such stones could be procured;
and as they all lay in one spot, I conjecture that they have been used to
mark the graves of the slain in the year 1165, when Henry II. made his
first expedition against North Wales, by way of the Berwyn Mountains:—“He
assembled a large army at Oswelt Tree, and detached a number of men to
try the passes into Wales. There was a narrow way through the Dyke, near
Castell Crogen, now Chirk Castle; they were set upon by a party of
Welchmen, as they would have passed this strait, and many of them were
there slain, and buried in that ditch; where (says my Author) their
graves are now (i.e. 1697) to be seen.” {20}
The place was called Adwy’r Beddau, i.e. Pass of the Graves. There is a
field or two near the place still called Tir a Beddau, i.e. Land, or
Field of the Dead. I visited this place, and found the field under
cultivation; and it is possible that the stones may have been removed out
of the way of the plough, to the place where they now lie. On examining
an old survey of Chirk Lordship, I found two or three parcels of land
lying contiguous to each other, and on each side of the Dyke, at this
place, bearing the same name, Tir y Beddau.
From this field of the dead I bent my way along the Dyke, through
bramble, bush, and brier, to the no small disturbance of its numerous
inhabitants, the nimble squirrels, the rabbits, and the pheasants,
springing before me every thirty or forty yards. At length I arrived at
the brink of a sheet of water called the pool, on which numbers of wild
ducks, coots, and other aquatic birds were disporting. The ditch and
rampire continued through the middle of that pool, and the rampire is
still traceable from the boat house on the opposite side; and running
along the ley in front of Chirk Castle to a wood yard on the west side of
it, it again deepens, and assumes its form. As it approaches the Ceiriog
river, which skirts the south side of the park, it appears indeed a
barrier. I took the depth a little from the farm or wood yard, and found
it about fifty feet, a little farther on sixty feet, and near its
termination at Pont Melin y Castell, or the Castle Mill, it is about
eighty feet. At this point there is a bridge over the river, up whose
banks, at about half a mile distance, is a farm still retaining the name
of Crogen Isaf, or Lower Crogen.
In the bank of limestone rock below the bridge, and on the side of the
river, is a cavern or subterraneous passage, of unknown extent, and which
I have not had opportunity to explore. Above Crogen Isaf, and near a
bridge of very capacious span across the Ceiriog, called Pont Madoc, a
powder mill was about to be erected; but when the work was nearly
completed, the projector became unable to proceed, and it was
discontinued.
Thinking it best not to break the narrative of my progress along the
ancient Dyke, by which I passed so near to the venerable Castle of Chirk,
I have hitherto purposely omitted an account of that celebrated mansion.
I shall now, however, return to it.
Chirk Castle.
This noble and ancient pile was built on the site of Castell Crogen,
about the year 1011. I must here hazard a conjecture concerning this
Castle. I am of opinion that the old Castle of Crogen was then enlarged
and repaired, not entirely rebuilt; as John Myddleton, who communicated a
paper to the Society of Antiquarians on the subject, says it was begun
A.D. 1011, and was finished in 1013, which makes it only about two years,
probably too short a period for the total re-erection of so large an
edifice.
The building is square, and is flanked by four massive bastions or
rounders, one at each corner. There is a fifth in the centre of the
front, of the same dimensions as the others. The length of the front is
about two hundred and fifty feet; the square court or quadrangle within
the walls is about one hundred and sixty-five feet, by one hundred. The
grand entrance is under a lofty arched gateway; the side entrance is by a
double flight of stone stairs, through a postern and colonnade, into the
quadrangle. I measured the walls of the north-west bastion, and found
them more than fourteen feet thick, and all apparently of solid masonry.
The whole of this extensive and ponderous building is of hewn stone.
On the west side of the quadrangle is the door of the dungeon, which in
feudal times has been the melancholy abode of many hapless victims, who
fell under their Lord’s displeasure. There is at the entrance a case or
hollow in the thickness of the wall, for a portcullis; and there are two
places of confinement, one below the other. The first is not formed so
far below the surface of the earth as totally to exclude the light of
day; it being admitted obliquely from above. There is also a fire-place;
so that it is probable this might be a prison for less serious crimes, or
for delinquents of noble quality. The deep dungeon is far below the
first, the descent to it being by forty-two steps; and is said to be as
deep as the walls are high. It is small and circular, and about twelve
or fourteen yards in circumference. The iron doors are now taken away,
and one of oak is substituted, which bears upon it numberless notches,
not, like those of Sterne’s captive, made to mark the days of misery, but
the number of horns of strong ale drank at one sitting by a party
assembled in this place to drink to the health of the Lord of the Castle.
It is a record of the strength of their heads, if not of their attachment
to their Lord. High up in the wall are two iron hooks, fixed to support
a large cheese, which was formerly kept here for the entertainment of
those who chose to visit this gloomy place. The sides of the dungeon are
partly formed of the rock on which the Castle is founded, as is also the
floor.
Returning to the light of the sun, on the adjoining south side of the
quadrangle is the servants’ hall, in which are deposited various ancient
and family relics. The walls are hung round with boar spears, pikes, and
halberts; arquebuses, matchlocks, and other old fire-arms; saddles,
spurs, and various pieces of armour; enormous and curious spoils of the
chace, &c.
Among a variety of deer antlers, is the head of a stag, of which the
following curious story is told:—A young woman, crossing the Black Park
at the early dawn of morning, was assailed by this furious animal. Her
cries for assistance were heard by one of the numerous retainers of the
Castle, whose dwelling was nigh, and he promptly ran to her aid. The
stag, no way intimidated, made fiercely at the man, and literally gored
him to death. The Black Park is now converted into an extensive
colliery.
Opposite to the servants’ hall is the main entrance into the Castle from
the quadrangle. In the large and lofty entrance hall are some fine
paintings, and a superb billiard table. The grand stairs front the
entrance, and lead to the stately apartments of the Castle, which have
been lately renovated in a superior style of elegance by Mrs. Biddulph,
the present inheritor. A saloon, a gallery, and a drawing-room, in
particular, are beautifully finished, and banish from the mind the idea
of a gloomy Castle, which its exterior seems to promise.
The rooms are enriched with some good paintings; and in the saloon are
some finely executed portraits of the family. In this room there is a
cabinet of most exquisite workmanship. The views from the different
windows are inexpressibly beautiful, and are said to embrace a prospect
extending into seventeen counties.
In the civil wars this Castle was besieged by Cromwell’s adherents, and
one of its sides, with three of its towers, overthrown. It is mentioned
as a prodigious exertion of labour, and in which no cost was spared, that
the wing was rebuilt in one year, at the expense of eighty thousand
pounds; which I think strengthens my idea of the present Castle being
only an enlargement and repair of the more ancient Castell Crogen.
About a mile and a half from the Castle, stands the pleasant little
village of
Chirk.
It is an example of simple neatness and good taste. The cottages are
built in the Swiss style, with singular rustic elegance, and have the
appearance of comfort and quiet. The inhabitants are mainly indebted for
the beauty of their rustic cottages to the Countess Dungannon of
Brynkinallt, and for the uniformity and useful convenience of water in
every house, which is conveyed by leaden pipes, to the exertions and
influence of Mrs. Myddelton Biddulph, the owner of the Castle, and the
elder branch of the much-respected family of the Myddeltons. She is Lady
of the Manor of Chirk, and has built and endowed a school for the
education of the village children. Her exertions to promote the comfort
and interest of her tenantry are worthy imitation.
Near the church, and now enclosed in a garden, stands an artificial
mount, which Mr. Pennant conjectures to be coeval with Offa’s Dyke. {31}
A similar one stood on the opposite side, where now the road runs. These
mounts were probably Saxon stations, and curbs to the Welch, to prevent
them from violating the line of demarcation which Offa had formed.
The church is a capacious old structure, dedicated to St. Mary, and was
formerly an impropriation belonging to the Abbey of Valle Crucis. It has
a tower steeple, containing six bells. All the east side of the church
wall within is nearly covered with marble monuments of the Chirk Castle
family. A bust of Sir Thomas Myddelton, and another of his Lady, are
well executed. There are also many other remarkable _memento mori’s_
within the church, well worth the attention of those who love to muse on
“Names once famed, now dubious or forgot,
And buried midst the wreck of things which were.”
I believe there are not standing within the same compass of ground in the
kingdom of Great Britain, three mansions so eminently deserving
admiration for magnificence, grandeur, and beauty, as Wynnstay, Chirk
Castle, and Brynkinallt; the latter of which I shall now proceed to
describe.
Brynkinallt
Is about one mile from the village of Chirk, and is the ancient seat of
the noble family of the Trevors, as I find in an authentic genealogical
table, of which the following is a short extract:—“In the reign of King
Richard II. there was a noble peer, by name Geofry Lord Trevor, and also
John Trevor, Bishop of St. Asaph, and Chancellor of Chester. He
continued in the bishoprick to the sixth year of King Henry IV. And in
the reign of King Henry VI. (1421) lived two brothers descended of this
honourable family, namely, John and Richard. John, the eldest brother,
was seated at Brynkinallt. He married Agnes, daughter and heiress of
Peter Chambre, of Pool, Esq. by whom he had issue five sons, who laid the
foundation of many noble branches. Robert, the eldest, succeeded his
father at Brynkinallt. He married Catherine, daughter and heiress of
Llewellen Ap Howel De Mould, and had issue. From Edward, the second son,
by Amy, daughter of James Ryffin, Esq. descended Mark Trevor, from whom
descended the Viscount Dungannon in Ireland.” From him the nobleman who
at present inherits the title, and the residence of Brynkinallt, is a
lineal descendant; and under his auspices, aided by the exquisite taste
of his Countess, this superb edifice has attained the acme of beauty.
To rush at once into this charming labyrinth of delight would fill the
mind with confusion; and the beholder would be at a loss in what
direction to commence his observations, where every part claims his
admiration. I therefore beg my readers will accompany me about two miles
on the Oswestry road, to Bryn y Gwyla Lodge, a beautiful triumphal
arch-like entrance into Bryn y Gwyla Park, through which a new road is
now forming to Brynkinallt. This part of the domain is in Shropshire;
the interesting stream of the Ceriog dividing Shropshire from
Denbighshire at this place.
As you proceed towards the river, whose sides are charmingly clothed with
forest trees, and whose banks are fringed with shrubs to the water edge,
the eye is caught by some of the pinnacles of Brynkinallt, and by the
blue smoke arising from the mansion, which seems playfully to linger
among the lofty summits of the luxuriant trees that adorn it. Proceeding
on the highest road, called the Green Drive, which runs along the top of
the Hanging Wood, whose majestic and venerable timber seems to continue
the luxuriant line of wavy branches to the very mansion, through one of
the natural vistas which here and there present themselves, Brynkinallt
bursts upon the sight in all its beauty, embosomed in the softened and
variously tinted foliage of the plantations which surround it. From this
spot the most interesting and picturesque view of the place is obtained;
and I believe it is the point from whence an artist of some celebrity has
designed a picture of the mansion.
At the termination of this drive the murmuring Ceriog is crossed by an
ornamental stone bridge, at the foot of which, on the bank of the river,
stands a simple rustic cottage, richly clothed with ivy, and formed of
unhewn pebble stones. At this lodge is kept a key of the bridge gate;
and a bell attached to the gate procures attendance. Crossing the bridge
into Denbighshire, the elegant taste of the inheritor of the place begins
to display itself. New beauties appear at every step, as you approach
the house; pheasants feed in numbers on the smooth verdant lawn before
the windows, and seem to give an earnest of the quiet and security of the
domain.
This beautiful place is thus mentioned by Mr. Pennant:—“From Chirk (he
says) I made an excursion to Brynkinallt, about a mile below the village:
this had been the seat of the Trevors. The house is of brick, built in
1619.” {38} Nor can I find more attention bestowed on this charming
place by any of the numerous tourists who have given an account of their
excursions to the public; and I am at a loss to account why this, the
most unique and beautiful spot in the neighbourhood, should thus long
have escaped attention.
The house is undoubtedly the work of Inigo Jones, and was built on the
site of a former mansion of brick, either in the latter part of the reign
of Queen Elizabeth, or early in the reign of James I. The additions made
by the present worthy possessor are ornamental and useful, and are formed
so judiciously, and so strictly in character with the old part, as not to
be distinguished from the original design. I should call the style
demi-gothic; it is now cased over with mastic or Roman cement, and has
all the appearance of well hewn stone; and some think it will have equal
durability.
The house is formed with a noble mansion-like centre, decorated with
minarets and pinnacles, and flanked by two low retiring wings, making
altogether a very beautiful and ornamental front. The grand entrance is
through a conservatory and viranda, elegantly decorated with choice
flowers and exotic plants. Over the inner entrance door are the arms of
the Marquis of Wellesley, Viceroy of Ireland, emblazoned upon glass,
occupying the whole width of the doorway, and bearing an inscription,
likewise painted on the glass, signifying that the Marquis presented this
painted glass as a mark of his esteem to his dear friend and relation,
Lord Viscount Dungannon. The execution is good, and does great credit to
the Irish artist.
Advancing a few steps into the interior, the eye is arrested by the
brilliancy of the scene which breaks upon the sight. Immediately in
front, through the spacious hall, is a grand flight of stairs, terminated
by a richly stained glass window, and leading to a gallery that surrounds
the hall, and which is decorated with the busts of much distinguished and
eminent persons, as the King, the Duke of York, the Duke of Wellington,
&c. Up the passage to the left hand, the view is bounded by the superb
dining room; and on the right it terminates in a charming conservatory,
through which is a way to the pleasure grounds and gardens. From the
dining room on the extreme left, to the conservatory on the right, it is
about one hundred and sixty feet.
To particularize or to give an adequate idea of the superb and very
tasteful decorations of every room in this elegant mansion is far beyond
my power of description; and therefore I dare not make the attempt.
Suffice it to say, that every nook seems decorated by the hand of taste,
guided by the most correct judgment; all is elegantly superb, and
chastely grand. In some of the windows is much old painted glass,
particularly in the library, where there are some very excellent
specimens.
Here is also a valuable collection of china; and in one of the rooms are
some beautiful vases of that fragile material.
The mansion is adorned throughout with valuable pictures by the old
masters, some of which his Lordship selected in Italy. There is a
landscape near the fire-place, in the same room where the china vases
stand, painted by Claude Lorraine, which is a most beautiful production
of that great master. In short,
“Whatever in this worldly state
Is sweet and pleasing unto living sense,
Or that may daintiest fantasie aggrate,
Is poured forth with plentiful dispense,
And made there to abound with lavish affluence.”
SPENCER.
The beauty and elegance abounding in this place must be seen to be justly
appreciated; and the urbanity and gentlemanly condescension of the noble
owner, in affording me the means of gratifying my inquiries and
curiosity, will never be effaced from my memory.
In the adjoining shrubbery is an ornamental building called the china
room, fitted up (it would be superfluous to say elegantly) by Lady
Dungannon. Within the room are deposited the most valuable and beautiful
specimens of old china. The walls are covered with plates, dishes, &c.
in many various figures and forms. There is a fire-place in the room,
and a small portable collection of books for the amusement of a passing
hour. In a room adjoining is an assemblage of cream-coloured pottery, in
its greatest variety; and behind all, is a cool, well arranged dairy.
To some, and to ladies in particular, the examination of the china room
will afford the highest gratification. For myself, I must confess, the
exquisite specimens of art I had just been viewing in the mansion so
entirely engrossed my mind, that I could not look on these later morceaus
with the attention they merited.
I have before stated that the river Ceriog runs through part of the
domain; and it is made to contribute much to its beauty. It passes
through a deep and thickly wooded dingle, and a rural and shady walk
winds along the glen to another entrance lodge, about half a mile from
Chirk. The way is enlivened by game springing before you at every step,
and rousing the attention from that soothing melancholy which the
umbrageous solemnity of the walk is calculated to inspire.
There are four lodges, or gates of entrance into the domain, inhabited by
some of his Lordship’s dependents. They are all built in an ornamental
and romantic style; but about them, though so varied in design, there are
no disjointed or distorted features to offend the most fastidious.
“And that which all fair work doth much aggrace,
The art which wrought it all appeareth in no place.”
SPENCER.
Brynkinallt, as well as Chirk, is on the English side of Offa’s Dyke, to
which I shall now return on my way to the Berwyn Mountains; observing by
the bye, that although this part of the country is called Wales, yet that
Offa’s Dyke, made in the year 776, cut it off from the Principality, and
John of Salisbury, in his Polycraticon, writeth thus:—“Harold ordained a
law, that what Welchman soever should be found with a weapon on this side
the limit which he had set them (that is to say, Offa’s Dyke), he should
have his right hand cut off by the King’s officers.” {45} So, as Harold
II. reigned nearly three hundred years after the Dyke was cut, it is
plain, by this law, that it continued to be considered the line of
demarcation at that time; and even to this day the bell of vassalage, the
curfew, is rung every night at Chirk, that is, on the English side the
Dyke; but is never heard at Llangollen, which is on the Welch side. This
goes far to prove that William’s English laws reached Chirk, and no
farther. Leaving the Dyke, I now return to the Berwyn Mountains.
Berwyn MOUNTAINS.
“Clouds rest on the hills: spirits fly, and travellers fear.
“Where are our chiefs of old? Where our Kings of mighty name? The
fields of their battle are silent: scarce their mossy tombs remain.”
RETURNING towards Llangollen by the old road near Chirk Castle, called
Oswestry way, the Berwyn Mountains begin to raise their lofty summits.
{47} These Mountains occupy the eastern side of Merionethshire, and
branch into the counties of Denbigh and Montgomery. Their southern
boundary is the river Tannant; their northern the Dee. Their length from
north to south is about sixteen miles; their breadth from east to west
varying from five to ten miles. {48} Their highest tops are Cader
Fronwen, or the Whitebreast, and Cader Ferwyn. On the summit of the
former a large quantity of stones, collected from a distance, and brought
here with much labour and difficulty, are cast round a stone pillar,
marking the burial-place of some chief, whose very name is now forgotten.
These Mountains, as I have before said, form the southern side of the
vale of Llangollen; and forming a frontier barrier for this part of North
Wales, they have been the scene of many a bloody contest, and on these
hills the hardy sons of Cambria have successfully opposed the encroaching
armies of their Saxon neighbours. I trust my readers will excuse me if I
relate one of the most interesting events of that kind which took place
on this part of the Berwyn Mountains, and within my prescribed limits.
Henry II. King of England, being exasperated by the repeated predatory
incursions of the Welch, {49} and by the advantage they took of ravaging
the English territories in his frequent absence, and finding that no
treaties could bind them, resolved on his return from Normandy to lead an
army against Wales; and having assembled a strong body of veteran troops,
selected from all parts of his very extensive dominions in Normandy,
Flanders, Anjou, Gascoine, and England, {50} and hearing of some daring
inroads made by the North Wales men, he early in the year 1165, put
himself at the head of this chosen army, and set forward for North Wales,
resolving to destroy without mercy every living thing he could meet with.
Having advanced to Croes Oswalt, now Oswestry, he encamped there, and
sent forward a body of men to try the passes of the Dyke and Ceriog, who
being met near Castell Crogen, as has been before stated, were there
defeated, and buried in the Dyke.
It is probable that the victorious Welchmen were a party detached from
the Welch army; for Owen Gwynedd, then Prince of Wales, having heard of
the great preparations made by the King, had very prudently confederated
all the power of the country, and had assembled his forces at Corwen, a
very strong country in Edernion, and there awaited the King’s approach.
He had with him, besides his brother Cadwalader, and all the power of
North Wales, Prince Rhys, with those of South Wales, Owen Cyfeeliog and
Madog Meredith, with the strength of Powis; in short, all the forces the
Welch could muster. {51}
The King, finding the Welch so strong, and knowing their fickleness,
stayed some time at Oswestry, in expectation that a confederacy so
hastily formed would as suddenly dissolve; but finding them firm and
determined in their adherence, and that his enemies were so near, he
became desirous to bring on an engagement. He therefore moved towards
the Dyke with his whole army, and pushed on a party to the Ceriog river,
which washes the foot of the Berwyn; giving orders that the banks should
be cleared of the woods, which at that time formed a complete jungle, to
prevent his troops falling into the ambuscade of the enemy.
It would seem the Welch had taken the precaution to guard the passes of
the river; for the King in person, in an attempt to get possession of a
bridge, experienced one of those hair-breadth escapes which sometimes
decide the fate of kingdoms: {52}—A Welch archer, having marked the
personal exertions of the King, and fired with the hope of freeing his
country, chose a place of concealment, from whence, watching his
opportunity, he discharged an arrow with such deadly aim, that it must
inevitably have slain the King, had not Hubert De St. Clair, Constable of
Colchester, who was in close attendance, and whose name is deservedly
recorded for his devotion to his monarch, seeing the danger, rushed into
the course of the fatal shaft, and received it in his heart; thus
terminating his attachment with his life.
Whilst Henry was thus employing his forces in clearing the banks of the
Ceriog, a party of Welchmen, relying on their knowledge of the country,
and prompted by patriotic zeal, attempted to surprise his vanguard,
consisting chiefly of pikemen, and the flower of the King’s army. This
brought on a very bloody engagement, although not general, which cost the
lives of many brave men on both sides; but the attack having been
commenced without any preconcerted plan, and merely from a sudden
ebullition of desperate daring, Henry’s veterans were victorious, and
making good the passage of the river, advanced up the Berwyn.
In the mean time, the Welch Princes had advanced with their army from
Corwen, and had taken a strong position on the frontier ridge. A
fieldwork and entrenchment are still visible on the Mountain, over
Llangollen, and was probably the station of part of the Welch forces,
under Owen Gwynedd and his allies. Henry, finding his formidable enemy
thus advantageously posted on the crown of the hill, did not deem it
prudent to attack him in this position, and therefore encamped his forces
on the lower part of the Mountain. {55}
In this manner the two armies lay menacing each other; the Welch
carefully improving every opportunity of annoyance, and from their lofty
and advantageous situation watching every movement of the King’s forces.
Henry used every means in his power to induce them to quit their camp,
and attack him, but in vain: while the Welch, by means of their irregular
adherents, cut off all supplies from the English, and reduced them to the
greatest straits and distress; added to which, the rain now fell in
torrents, and pouring down the sides of the Mountain, rendered the
English station so soft and slippery that they were obliged to retreat,
with great loss in men, horses, and warlike stores, leaving the Welch
masters of the field.
The Welchmen, as might naturally be expected, exultingly celebrated this
triumph; while Henry, baffled and disgraced, and with all his threats
unperformed, gave way to rage, and added savage cruelty to his disgrace.
He at this time held as hostages Rhys and Cadwallhon, the two sons of
Owen Gwynedd; and also Cynric and Meredith, the two sons of Rhys Ap
Gryffydh, of South Wales; as likewise the sons and daughters of other
Welch Lords. {56} In the savage fierceness of his rage, he ordered the
eyes of these innocent victims to be pulled out, and the ears of the
young gentlewomen to be stuffed.
From this digression, for which, as pointing out the places where these
historical facts happened, I hope my readers will pardon me, I now return
to the Oswestry old way, which runs near Chirk Castle.
Not more than sixty years ago, this used to be the public high road to
Oswestry, although the capacious and excellent road which now skirts the
Mountains’ base would almost induce one to think it impossible. A very
respectable and old inhabitant of Llangollen informs me, that before the
road was altered and improved, some of the family from Chirk Castle used
to visit Llangollen once a year in the family coach. On the appointed
day, which was generally known beforehand, all the inhabitants were on
the alert; and no sooner was the rumble of the ponderous wheels heard on
the stones, than young and old, sick and lame, poured out of their
dwellings to see the wonderful phenomenon; and during the few hours of
its stay in the town, it attracted as much attention as a show of wild
beasts at a country fair. On its return to the Castle, the young men of
the village contended for the honour of assisting it to get up the hill
again; and this was the only vehicle of the kind seen once a year in
Llangollen, where now the most splendid and elegant carriages, from the
gig to the state-coach, roll along, amid these stupendous rocks and
mountains, upon roads as smooth, as level, and as good, as any in the
kingdom.
The Oswestry old way is not now much frequented, but it continues from
Chirk Castle along the top of the Mountain. Many roads intersect it, but
the old road is very distinguishable. By the side of the way, rise two
copious springs, called Ffynnon Arthur.
From the eminence the view is most extensively delightful, and amply
repays the trouble and fatigue of the walk up the Mountain. The curious
Aqueduct of Pontcysyllte forms a very pleasing and prominent feature in
the foreground of the landscape.
As you approach the descent on the side of the hill, the stone pedestal
of a cross or pillar stands among the gorse on the left hand side of the
road, but the shaft is not to be found. Trees, planted three in a clump,
mark the road at short distances, and lead to the cultivated and
inhabited part of the declivity. {60a} Proceeding to the extreme foot of
the Mountain, on the junction of the Oswestry road stood, until these few
months, another stone pillar, or cross {60b}, called Croes y Beddau; and
upon it was rudely cut “_Oswestry Way_.” This inscription is of more
recent execution than the pillar, although it is also very antique.
I conjecture these stones were erected as land-marks, and guides to the
traveller. An ancient way from this point proceeded to the river Dee,
which was then crossed by a wooden bridge. On the north side of the
river, nearly opposite the place where the wooden bridge stood, was
another similar pillar, called Croes Gwen Hwyfr. It stood on the road to
Wrexham, and has been removed only a few years. From Croes Gwen Hwyfr,
an old road proceeds to Castell Dinas Bran, by the Llanddyn, once the
residence of the Owens of Porkington, but now converted into a
farm-house. Through that farm the road passed in a zigzag direction to
Castell Dinas Bran, and the old road is still traceable, although in some
places quite lost.
Before I attempt to give an account of the ancient castle, I must beg my
reader’s attendance to the Aqueduct, which claimed notice in the view
from the top of the Berwyn Mountains.
The Aqueduct.
“Telford, who o’er the vale of Cambrian Dee,
Aloft in air, at giddy height upborne,
Carried his navigable road, and hung
High o’er Menai’s Straits the bending bridge:
Structures of more ambitious enterprise
Than minstrels, in the age of old romance,
To their own Merlin’s magic lore ascribed.”
THE Aqueduct of Pontcysylte is so called from a bridge of three arches
over the river Dee, and situated a little higher up the river. This is
the most stupendous work of the kind in the kingdom. It was designed and
executed by and under the inspection of that British Archimedes, Mr.
Thomas Telford, to carry a stream of water for the supply of the
Ellesmere Canal; to the proprietors of which, in the year 1804, Sir W. W.
Wynn, Bart. in the most liberal manner made an important donation of the
waters of Bala pool, as far as wanted; and to obtain that essential
advantage the Aqueduct was projected. {63} The level of the canal is
taken at a place in the river a little below the church of Lantysilto,
and about two miles on the west of Llangollen.
The bank of the canal forms a charming promenade of about six miles from
its junction with the Dee to the Aqueduct, abounding with interesting and
picturesque scenery. Here and there snug little white cottages, peeping
from among the surrounding trees, decorate and embellish the sides and
recesses of some of the eminences; while the tops are dotted with the
little mountain sheep, scarcely distinguishable from the white stones
that are scattered upon their summits. The banks of the canal are
ornamented with trees, and embellished with bridges, &c.
This Aqueduct, the most extraordinary structure of its kind in the world,
was begun on the twenty-fifth day of July, 1795, and was finished on the
twenty-sixth day of November, 1805; having been ten years and five months
in building. It is one thousand and seven feet in length, and one
hundred and twenty-six feet eight inches in height from the surface of
the flat rock on the south side of the river Dee, to the top of the iron
side plates of the water way; and there are nineteen arches of forty-five
feet span each. The piers, eighteen in number, are constructed of square
masonry, and the arches and water way are composed of cast-iron.
At the south end of the Aqueduct there is an embankment of earth, fifteen
hundred feet in length, and seventy-five feet high. The water way is
eleven feet ten inches broad, and five feet three inches deep. There is
a broad towing-path on the east side, guarded by a strong iron palisade,
running the whole length of the Aqueduct; from the north end of which the
canal is continued for a distance of about three hundred yards, and there
terminates in an extensive basin, which affords a double wharfage, with
iron railways.
I have heard of only one fatal accident occurring during the progress of
this arduous undertaking; when a poor labourer employed on the work fell
from the top of one of the piers, and was dashed to pieces on the rock
below. His suffering was of short duration, as the tremendous height
from which he fell caused instant dissolution.