HARLECH, now a poor village, deriving its only tenure in the memory of
travellers from a noble castle, was formerly the capital of the county,
and erected into a free borough by King Edward the First. But the great
sessions have been removed to Dolgelly and Bala, and the privilege of
sending a burgess to parliament was forfeited by neglect. The
corporation consisted of a mayor, recorder, bailiffs, and burgesses, and
their register is now in possession of a blacksmith in the village. The
charter was stolen by the captain of a merchant vessel, who desired to
see the authority upon which he was required to pay toll at Gêst Point;
when the ancient deed was put into his hand, he dishonestly and
villanously refused to return it, and put out to sea. Ormsby Gore, of
Porkington, Esq. the representative of the house of Cleneny, has restored
the little county hall, in which the member for Merionethshire continues
to be elected, and at other times it is appropriated to the charitable
purpose of a poor school. A few years back even tourists were content
with the history of Harlech, particularly if it happened to be
accompanied by an illustration of the fine castle. The singular
ruggedness of the way, and the wretchedness of the lodgings, threw a damp
on the ardour of even the most inquisitive. These objections are happily
no longer applicable, a new road is formed between Maes y Neuadd and
Glyn, and Sir Robert Vaughan has erected a spacious and handsome inn at
Harlech, where admirable accommodations are afforded upon singularly
moderate terms.
The great attraction of Harlech is the magnificent castle,—formerly
remarkable for its strength, now only celebrated for its beauty,—once the
terror, but now the pride of the scene. It stands on the summit of a
bold perpendicular rock, projecting from a range of hills which stretches
along the coast, and frowning over an extensive marsh, which is scarcely
higher than the level of the sea that skirts it. On the side next the
sea it must originally have been utterly inaccessible, the castle walls
being scarce distinguishable from the rock on which they rest, but rather
resembling a continued surface of dark gray masonry. The other sides
were protected by a fosse of great breadth and depth, cut in the solid
rock. The only entrance was beneath a barbacan, within which a
drawbridge fell across the fosse, and opened within a ballium which
enveloped the citadel. The plan resembles a square, each angle of which
is strengthened by a large circular tower, the entrance being also
protected by two noble flankers. On the entrance side of the inner court
are the chief apartments; and a beautiful elevation, of three stories in
height, with cut stone architraves to each window, the whole terminated
by graceful circular pavilions, rising far above the ballium, and
commanding one of the grandest imaginable prospects, is still entire. It
resembles in style and position the council hall in the castle of
Beaumaris. The banqueting hall is on the opposite side, and its windows
look, from a dizzy height, down upon the green waters of the sea. On the
right of the court may be traced the ruins of a small chapel, the pointed
window of which is still entire.
No more the banners o’er the ramparts wave,
Or lead their chieftains onward to the fight,
Where die the vanquish’d, or exult the brave,
For victory, basking in its worship’d light.
The Cambrian chiefs of Rheinog Fawr
Are mingled in the dust with common clay.
No view, in the northern shires, is superior in grandeur to the prospect
from the light turrets of Harlech Castle. The Marsh and Traeth are seen
spread out at a frightful depth, and from the margin of their wide level
stupendous rocks and cliffs suddenly start up, tufted and embossed with
wood. A great mass of air seems to float in the void behind this scene,
separating a world of mountains, the grandeur of whose features the
pencil only can express. A stupendous vista of broken bills forms a
noble perspective, crossed by ranges that open to farther glimpses—summit
succeeds to summit in endless train, leading the fancy into regions of
solitary obscurity.
Bronwen, the fair necked, sister to Bren ap Lyr, Duke of Cornwall, and
afterwards King of England, had a castle on this rock called “Twr y
Bronwen.” She flourished in the third century, and was married to
Matholwch, an Irish chieftain. The highest turret of the present
fortress is still called, by the Welsh, after the name of the
fair-bosomed princess, who once kept her court at Harlech. Colwyn ap
Tango, Lord of Effionydd and Ardudwy, repaired and fortified the castle
of Bronwen, and changed its name to Caer Collwyn. Upon the ruins of the
British castle King Edward the First raised the beautiful and impregnable
fortress of Harlech (the fair rock), and the union of the old and new
masonry is still distinguishable in the walls. Owen Glandwr seized this
fortress in the year 1404, but resigned it shortly after upon the
approach of Henry’s army. Here the wretched Margaret of Anjou took
refuge after the defeat of her friends at Northampton, but being pursued
and discovered, she fled from Harlech also, leaving her jewels and
baggage behind, which were afterwards seized by the Lord Stanley. Dafydd
ap Ivan ap Einion, an adherent of the house of Lancaster held out, in
Harlech Castle, for nine years after the accession of Edward the Fourth
to the throne of England. His determined obstinacy, a quality for which
his countrymen have always been remarkable in war, compelled the king to
send a powerful army to dislodge him, under the leadership of William,
Earl of Pembroke. After a march, both tedious and difficult, across an
Alpine country, Pembroke sat down before the castle walls, and summoned
the brave Welshman to surrender, but only received from him this singular
answer: “Some years ago I held a castle in France against its besiegers
so long, that all the old women in Wales talked of me; tell your
commander that I intend to defend this Welsh castle now, until all the
old women in France shall hear of it.” Sir Richard Herbert, who had the
immediate conduct of the siege, finding the impregnable nature of the
castle, and stubborn quality of its governor, accepted the surrender upon
conditions honourable to Dafydd, guaranteeing to him and to his
followers, fifty in number, their lives and estates. Being all persons
of consideration, they were at first committed to the Tower, the king
designing to put them all to death, notwithstanding the conditions of the
surrender. Against Edward’s cruel and dishonourable conduct Sir Richard
remonstrated, urging, that the Welsh hero might have held the castle
longer for any thing the king’s army could have done to expel him; but
the king still continuing in his base resolve, “then, sire,” said Sir
Richard, “you may take my life, if you please, instead of that of the
Welsh captain; for, if you do not, I shall most assuredly replace him in
his castle, and your highness may send whom you please to take him out.”
The king was too sensible of Sir Richard’s utility to persevere in his
iniquitous determination, so yielded to expediency, and pardoned the
captives; but he never became sensible of the value of honour, and
dismissed his own brave general without farther reward.
In the civil wars of Charles the First’s time this was the last fortress
in Wales held for the king. William Owen, the governor, with about
twenty followers, surrendered to General Mytton on the 9th of March,
1647.