About a mile and a half from Holyhead, at Trefigneth (a house on the
quagmire) farm, may be seen some relics of Druidical superstition, and
remarkable monuments of the rude art of the Ancient Britons. They are
what antiquarians call _cromlechi_. Two derivations have been given for
the word cromlech: the one, “an inclining stone,” from the British word
_crwm_, bowed, and _llech_, a broad, flat stone; and the other, “a
devoted stone or altar,” from the Hebrew _cœrœm-luach_,—the first part
expressing the appearance of the upper or principal stone of the
cromlech; the second, the horrible use to which, there is good reason to
believe, it was put. The stones referred to are called by the Welsh, at
this time, _Llechen Trevigneth_, i.e., Trevigneth flat stones; and the
field they are in, _Cae’r Llechen_, flat stone field.
The writer visited these cromlechs on the 18th of February, 1853, and,
assisted by a friend, measured some of the huge, unshapely stones. The
western cromlech consists of 5 stones, four of which were undoubtedly
uprights, but have fallen from their proper situation, and the table
stone, with its flat face, reposes upon them. This superincumbent stone
measures 12 feet long, including the piece broken off at the eastern
end—it is 6 feet wide, and in some parts about 2 feet in diameter. One
of the four stones is 10 feet long, by 4 wide, and about 10 feet in
circumference. At the western end of this cromlech are three stones, but
for what purpose they were originally used, I wot not.
The eastern cromlech consists of 8 stones, two of which are standing; one
perpendicularly, the other in an oblique position—following the example
of its companions, which have long since bowed beneath the weight or
pressure of centuries;—these are 6 feet long, one of which is about 10
feet in circumference, the other 8. There is one reposing
longitudinally, measuring 10 feet long, and 6 feet in circumference. The
other three are of smaller dimensions. There are two table or
superincumbent stones, one of which measures 10 feet long, by 6 wide; the
other, 6 feet long, by 5 wide. When first constructed, this cromlech
would have admitted a tall man to stand upright in it.
When I first approached these ruins, I felt that I was treading the
sacred ground of ancient Britons; a longing to comprehend their origin
came over me—a yearning to make out the dark enigma that for ages had
puzzled the learned and the wise. While walking round these ancient
relics, I felt somewhat astonished and bewildered. Awe, amazement, and
solemnity, were as a load on my spirit, pressing heavily. I wished to
know, but I was ignorant; I wished to admire, but I was awestruck.
Ages seem present; shadowy, giant forms,
And fantasies that throng the heated brain,
Are fluttering to and fro; unhallowed rites,
Obscene and cruel, and unearthly shapes,
Start into being.
Many remains have I gazed on with solemn feelings; but never do I
remember such arresting, mysterious solemnity being excited within me by
mouldering castle, abbey, church, or priory, as that which then oppressed
me. It is strange, but these stones seem embued with the spirit of
by-gone ages. There they are, monuments of antiquity—huge, grand,
wonderful, incomprehensible! They over-awe you as they stand, gloomily
questioning, as it were, your right to approach so near their sacred
enclosure.
With these relics we cannot but associate the Druidical priests, who were
the principal actors on all public occasions. The finger of time has
long ceased to keep a calendar of their moments, or of their actions, and
their dust has for ages mingled with the clods of the valley! Yet, here
they once performed their idolatrous worship, and were held in great
veneration by the people. Imagination takes the place of memory, and,
influenced by the appalling gloom that pervades the spot, conjures up
shapes of human victims reeking in sacrifice, while Druidic priests in
their long white garments, the tiara, or sacred crown, their temples
enwreathed with chaplets of oak-leaves, the magic wand in their hand, and
on their heads a serpent’s egg, as an ensign of their order, and thus
attired we see them going forth to sacrifice, sullen, cruel, implacable,
standing round the crimson-stained altar, shrouded with superstition,
mystery, and death.
The durability or antiquity of these extraordinary relics is calculated
to excite emotions of astonishment and awe in the mind:—
These ancient stones, o’ergrown with bearded moss,
And by the melancholy skill of time
Moulded to beauty, charms the bosom more
Than the palaces of princes.
They must have weathered out more than 2000 years. It was about A.D. 60,
and during the reign of Nero, the Roman Emperor, when _Suetonius
Paulinus_, a distinguished Roman general, entered Anglesey, and cut down
the groves, sacred to Druidic superstition, and placed a garrison among
the conquered. And in A.D. 79, Titus Vespasian, the Roman Emperor, sent
_Julius Agricola_, a general not less renowned for his military talents
than for his wisdom and humanity; he arrived in Mona, or Anglesey, and
permanently secured the various triumphs of the Romans. Thus the bloody
rites of superstition, the most powerful that ever enchained the human
mind, and after it had long established a boundless tyranny upon the
ruins of human reason, was abolished throughout the island.
Their sacred Isle with solemn woods were crown’d,
Their woods are gone, dismantled lies the ground
Of holy Druids, once the reverend shrine.
It is therefore, obvious, that these cromlechs were erected long before
the fatal slaughter by Suetonius; and it is nearly 1800 years since he
gave a death-blow to the system.
This must be a deeply interesting spot to visit, at a time when the
summer’s sun smiles on every object. As has been observed it was
_winter_ when the writer visited the cromlechs; but even then the
prospect was grand. Standing here you have a most commanding view in
every direction, comprising, sea and land, mountain and plain, lake and
river. The towering mountains of Carnarvonshire, like another world,
ethereal, brilliant, transparent as crystal, appeared in the distance
covered with snow, and presented a resemblance to the Alps; far above the
rest, Snowdon lifted its patriarchal head so loftily, as if it meant not
only to threaten, but to thrust it into the sky. The sun, hastening
towards the western skies, threw his parting rays upon this Alpine range
of mountains, gilding them so magnificently, that the writer and his
accompanying friend were led to exclaim, “Winter has its beauties as well
as summer.”