is about twelve miles: part of the road lies over an extensive flat,
called Saltney, a rich and well-cultivated tract of country. Mold is a
small neat town, situate in a pleasant valley, surrounded by gentle
acclivities: here the assizes for the county of Flint are held. It
formerly possessed a strong castle on the north side, built on a mount
called the Baily-Hill, of which but few vestiges are now remaining: it is
famed in history for the sieges it sustained. The church is a handsome
structure, worthy of attention, built in the reign of Henry the Seventh,
and contains some fine monuments.
In the vicinity of Mold are large cotton spinning-mills, belonging to a
company at Manchester. The two Leeswoods, one the residence of the Rev.
Hope Wynne Eyton, the other of Mr. Garnor, formerly of Sir George Wynne,
are more remarkable for the gardens, grounds, and more particularly the
beautiful iron gates at the entrance of the lawn of the latter, than for
size and architecture.
Tower, the residence of the dowager Mrs. Wardle, is a specimen of the
ancient _border-houses_ on the confines of Wales and Scotland. It is a
square tower, consisting of three stories: in the lower story there still
remains a staple in the ceiling—a memorial of the rudeness of the times.
During the wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, this place was
inhabited by Reinallt ap Gryffydd Bleyddyn; one of the six gallant
captains who defended Harlech Castle on the part of Henry the Sixth. He
and his people were in continual feud with the citizens of Chester. In
1465, a considerable number of the latter came to Mold fair. A fray
ensued between the two parties, and dreadful slaughter was made on both
sides. Reinallt, however, got the victory, taking prisoner Robert Bryne
or Browne, Mayor of Chester, who, in his private capacity as a draper,
had attended the fair; whom he led to this tower, and hung on the staple
in his great hall. About a mile north-west of the town is Maes Garmon,
famous for the celebrated battle of the Victoria Alleluiatica; in which
the Britons, under the two bishops, Germanus and Lupus, in Easter week,
448, defeated and destroyed the Picts and Saxons. Germanus, having
previously directed his soldiers to repeat loudly and generally the word
he should give, he at the proper time pronounced _Alleluja_! The whole
army caught the sacred sound; which they repeated with such energy, that
the mountains echoed the religious exultation; and both combined to
strike such terror into the invading foe, that he fled in the utmost
consternation: numbers fell by the sword, and as many perished in the
adjacent river. This event is commemorated by the Hallelujah Monument,
erected by the late Nehemiah Griffith, Esq. of Rhual. Mold has two inns,
the Black Lion and Griffin: its market is on a Saturday.
From Mold to Denbigh the distance is about sixteen miles and a half. On
the left of the road is Kilken, visited on account of the beautiful
carved roof of its church, brought from Basingwerk Abbey, on the
dissolution of that house. Above it, on the summit of Moel Famma, is the
monument, erected by the inhabitants of the counties of Flint and
Denbigh, in commemoration of his late Majesty, King George the Third,
having completed the fiftieth year of his reign. The column was designed
by Mr. Harrison, of Lancaster, the architect of Chester Castle, &c.
Under the column were deposited in a vase numerous coins, illustrative of
this memorable reign. Lord Kenyon laid the first stone on the 25th of
October, 1810. In the neighbourhood of Kilken are numerous rich lead
mines and other works; amongst which, Pen y fron, belonging to Mr.
Ingleby, and Llyn y Pandu, held under Lord Grosvenor, by the late John
Wilkinson, Esq., are amongst the richest for their veins, these being
from four to six feet thick; but the great bodies of water from which
they have to free these mines, by means of powerful steam engines, are
great drawbacks upon their profits.
Moel Arthur, another portion of the Clwydian Hills, has on the top of it
the remains of a fortified British camp, having two very deep fossæ, with
corresponding valla, on the approachable sides; and on the precipitous
one is a smooth terrace, apparently levelled by art, for exercising the
troops.
Penbedw Hall, the seat of Mr. Williams, is a handsome object. On the
left of the road, at a small distance from the house, is a carnedd or
tumulus, and the remains of a Druidical circle.
Bodfari is by some conjectured to be the Varis of Antoninus; but on this
point antiquaries and historians are not agreed, others believing Caerwys
to have been that station.
Bachegraig is a most singularly-constructed house, built by Sir Richard
Clough, who served his apprenticeship to Sir Thomas Gresham; and having
acquired a great fortune by trade, contributed liberally, like his
master, towards the building of the Royal Exchange. The house consists
of a kind of centre and three sides, which form a quadrangle, enclosing a
square area or court. The principal part comprises a hall, with an
adjoining parlour of large dimensions; and the other parts of the
building are carried up to the unusual height of six stories, terminating
with a cupola. We from hence turned back to
CAERWYS,
which lies to the right of the road. It was formerly a place of much
consequence, at which the assizes for the county of Flint were held, as
were likewise a species of British Olympics, it being the seat of the
“Eisteddfod,” or Sessions of the Bards and Minstrels; the grand theatre
where, in honourable contention, they tried their skill, poured forth
their extemporaneous effusions, awaked their harps to melody,
“And gave to rapture all the trembling strings.”
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.