ABER,
(_Caernarvonshire_.)
_Distance from_ _Miles_.
Port Penrhyn 5
Llanvair Vechan 2
Conway 9
Penmaen Mawr 3
Llandegai 3½
London 245
ABER, or, as it is called by way of distinction, Aber-gwyngregyn, the
Stream of the White Shells, is a small neat village, situated on the
Holyhead and Chester road, near the Lavan Sands, at the extremity of a
luxuriant vale watered by the river Gwyngregyn, which runs into the Irish
sea; it commands a fine view of the entrance into the Menai, with the
islands of Anglesea and Priestholme, and the vast expanse of water which
rolls beneath the ragged Ormesheads. The pleasantness of its situation,
and the salubrity of its air, render this place exceedingly attractive
during the summer season, and the beach, at high water, is very
convenient for sea bathing.
The church is an ancient structure, with a square tower; the living being
in the gift of Sir R. W. Bulkeley.
The Bulkeley Arms is an excellent inn, where post-chaises and cars may be
had.
This is considered a very convenient station for such persons as wish to
examine Penmaen-mawr, and the adjacent country, either as naturalists or
artists. From this place also persons frequently cross the Menai straits
immediately into Anglesea, in a direction towards Beaumaris. The
distance is somewhat more than six miles. When the tide is out, the
Lavan Sands are dry for four miles, in the same direction, over which the
passenger has to walk within a short distance of the opposite shore,
where the ferry-boat plies. In fogs, the passage over these sands has
been found very dangerous, and many have been lost in making the
hazardous enterprise at such times. As a very salutary precaution, the
bell of Aber church, which was presented for the purpose by the late Lord
Bulkeley, in 1817, is rung in foggy weather, with a view to direct those
persons whose business compels them to make the experiment. It would be
dangerous for a stranger to undertake the journey without a guide, as the
sands frequently shift: however, since the erection of the Menai bridge,
this route is seldom taken.
The village is situated at the mouth of the deep glen, which runs in a
straight line a mile and a half between the mountains, and is bounded on
one side by a magnificent rock, called Maes-y-Gaer. At the extremity of
this glen, a mountain presents a concave front, down the centre of which
a vast cataract precipitates itself in a double fall, upwards of sixty
feet in height, presenting in its rushing torrent over the scattered
fragments of rock a grand and picturesque appearance.
At the entrance of the glen, close to the village, is an extensive
artificial mount, flat at the top, and near sixty feet in diameter,
widening towards the base. It was once the site of castle belonging to
the renowned prince, Llewelyn the Great, foundations are yet to be seen
round the summit; and in digging, traces of buildings have been
discovered. This spot is famous as the scene of the reputed amour of
William de Breos, an English baron, with the wife of the Welsh hero, and
of the tragical occurrence which followed its detection. This
transaction, which has given rise to a popular legend, is well told in
Miss Costello’s “Pictorial Tour,” published in 1845:—
Llywelyn had been induced by the artful promises of the smooth traitor,
king John, to accept the hand of his daughter, the princess Joan; but his
having thus allied himself did not prevent the aggressions of his
father-in-law, and John having cruelly murdered twenty-eight hostages,
sons of the highest Welsh nobility, Llywelyn’s indignation overcame all
other considerations, and he attacked John in all his castles between the
Dee and Conway, and, for that time freed North Wales from the English
yoke.
There are many stories told of the princess Joan, or Joanna, somewhat
contradictory, but generally received: she was, of course, not popular
with the Welsh, and the court bard, in singing the praise of the prince,
even goes so far as to speak of a female favourite of Llywelyn’s, instead
of naming his wife: perhaps he wrote his ode at the time when she was in
disgrace, in consequence of misconduct attributed to her. It is related
that Llywelyn, at the battle of Montgomery, took prisoner William de
Breos, one of the knights of the English court, and while he remained his
captive treated him well, and rather as a friend than enemy. This
kindness was repaid by De Breos with treachery, for he ventured to form
an attachment to the princess Joan, perhaps to renew one already begun
before her marriage with the Welsh prince. He was liberated, and
returned to his own country; but scarcely was he gone than evil whispers
were breathed into the ear of Llywelyn, and vengeance entirely possessed
his mind: he, however, dissembled his feelings, and, still feigning the
same friendship, he invited De Breos to come to his palace at Aber as a
guest. The lover of the princess Joan readily accepted the invitation,
hoping once more to behold his mistress; but he knew not the fate which
hung over him, or he would not have entered the portal of the man he had
injured so gaily as he did.
The next morning the princess Joan walked forth early, in a musing mood:
she was young, beautiful, she had been admired and caressed in her
father’s court, was there the theme of minstrels and the lady of many a
tournament—to what avail? her hand without her heart had been bestowed on
a brave but uneducated prince, whom she could regard as little less than
savage, who had no ideas in common with her, to whom all the refinements
of the Norman court were unknown, and whose uncouth people, and warlike
habits, and rugged pomp, were all distasteful to her. Perhaps she sighed
as she thought of the days when the handsome young De Breos broke a lance
in her honour, and she rejoiced, yet regretted, that the dangerous
knight, the admired and gallant William, was again beneath her husband’s
roof. In this state of mind she was met by the bard, an artful retainer
of Llywelyn, who hated all of English blood, and whose lays were never
awakened but in honour of his chief, but who contrived to deceive her
into a belief that he both pitied and was attached to her. Observing her
pensive air, and guessing at its cause, he entered into conversation with
her, and having ‘beguiled her of her tears’ by his melody, he at length
ventured on these dangerous words.—
“Diccyn, doccyn, gwraig Llywelyn,
Beth a roit ti am weled Gwilym?”
“Tell me, wife of Llywelyn, what would you give for sight of your
William?”
The princess, thrown off her guard, and confiding in harper’s faith,
imprudently exclaimed:—
“Cymru, Lloegr, a Llywelyn,
Y rown i gyd am weled Gwilym!”
“Wales, and England, and Llywelyn—all would I give to behold my
William!”
The harper smiled bitterly, and, taking her arm, pointed slowly with his
finger in the direction of a neighbouring hill, where, at a place called
Wern Grogedig, grew a lofty tree, from the branches of which a form was
hanging, which she too well recognised as that of the unfortunate William
de Breos.
In a dismal cave beneath that spot was buried “the young, the beautiful,
the brave;” and the princess Joan dared not shed a tear to his memory.
Tradition points out the place, which is called Cae Gwilym Dhu.
Notwithstanding this tragical episode, the princess and her husband
managed to live well together afterwards; whether she convinced him of
his error, and he repented his hasty vengeance, or whether he thought it
bettor policy to appear satisfied; at all events, Joan frequently
interfered between her husband and father to prevent bloodshed, and
sometimes succeeded. On one occasion she did so with some effect, at a
time when the Welsh prince was encamped on a mountain above Ogwen lake,
called Carnedd Llywelyn from that circumstance; when he saw from the
heights his country in ruins, and Bangor in flames. Davydd, the son of
the princess, was Llywelyn’s favourite son. Joan died in 1237, and was
buried in a monastery of Dominican friars at Llanvaes, near Beaumaris;
Llywelyn erected over her a splendid monument, which existed till Henry
the Eighth gave the monastery to one of his courtiers to pillage, and the
chapel became a barn. The coffin, which was all that remained of the
tomb, like that of Llywelyn himself, was thrown into a little brook, and
for two hundred and fifty years was used as a watering trough for cattle.
It is now preserved at Baron Hill, near Beaumaris.
ABERDARON,
(_Caernarvonshire_.)
Caernarvon 36
Nevyn 16
Pwllheli 16
This is a miserably poor village, at the very extremity of
Caernarvonshire, seated in a bay, beneath some high and sandy cliffs. On
the summit of a promontory are the ruins of a small church, called Capel
Vair, or Chapel of our Lady. The chapel was placed here to give the
seamen an opportunity of invoking the tutelar saint for protection
through the dangerous sound. Not far distant, are also the ruins of
another chapel, called Anhaelog. At this spot, pilgrims in days of yore
embarked on their weary journey to pay their vows at the graves of the
saints of Bardsey.
The original church was a very old structure, in the style of ancient
English architecture, dedicated to St. Hyrwyn, a saint of the island of
Bardsey, and was formerly collegiate and had the privilege of sanctuary;
it contained a nave, south aisle, and chancel, and was an elegant and
highly finished building. A new church has been recently built, on the
site of the old one, at the expense of the landed proprietors, aided by
the church building societies.
The mouth of the bay is guarded by two little islands, called Ynys
Gwylan, a security to the small craft of the inhabitants, who are chiefly
fishermen. It takes its name from the rivulet Daron, which empties
itself here.
This primitive village is noted as the birth place of Richard Robert
Jones, alias Dick Aberdaron, the celebrated Welsh linguist. He was born
in 1778, and died in deep distress at St. Asaph in 1843. Jones was the
son of a carpenter, and always evinced a want of capacity, except in the
acquiring of languages by self culture. He began with the Latin tongue
when fifteen years of age. At nineteen he commenced with Greek, and
proceeded with Hebrew, Persiac, Arabic, French, Italian, and other modern
languages; and was ultimately conversant with thirteen. Notwithstanding
that he read all the best authors, particularly in the Greek, he seemed
to acquire no other knowledge than as to the form and construction of
language. He was always in great indigence, and used to parade the
streets of Liverpool extremely dirty and ragged, with some mutilated
stores of literature under his arm, and wearing his beard several inches
long. He was at one time much noticed by the late Mr. Roscoe, who
secured him a weekly stipend, which however was not maintained after the
death of that distinguished scholar.
Bardsey Island,
Generally called by the Welsh Yr Ynys Enlli (the Island of the Current),
and formerly known as the Island of the Saints, is situated about three
leagues to the west of Aberdaron; it is somewhat more than two miles long
and one broad, and contains about 370 acres of land, of which near
one-third is occupied by a high mountain, affording sustenance only to a
few sheep and rabbits. The number of inhabitants does not exceed one
hundred, and their chief employment is fishing, there being great
abundance round the island. It is the property of Lord Newborough.
On the south-east side, which is only accessible to the mariner, there is
a small well sheltered harbour, capable of admitting vessels of 30 or 40
tons burden. The lighthouse was erected in 1821; it is a handsome square
tower, 74 feet high, and surmounted by a lantern, 10 feet high.
This island was formerly celebrated for an abbey, a few portions only of
which are now remaining. Dubricius, archbishop of Caerlleon, resigned
his see to St. David, retired here, and died A.D. 612; he was interred
upon the spot, but such was the veneration paid to his memory in after
ages, that his remains were removed in the year 1107 to Llandaff, and
interred in that cathedral, of which Dubricius had been the first bishop.
After the slaughter of the monks of Bangor Is-y-coed, nine hundred
persecuted men who had embraced Christianity, sought a sacred refuge in
this island, where numbers of the devout had already established a
sanctuary, and found repose from the troubles which then raged through
the Principality.
ABERDOVEY,
(_Merionethshire_.)
Aberystwyth across the sands 11
Barmouth 16
Dolgellau 21
Machynlleth 10
Towyn 4
This is a small sea-port in the parish of Towyn, and about four miles
from that place. It is pleasantly situated on the northern side of the
mouth of the river Dovey, which here empties itself into Cardigan bay,
and is rapidly rising into estimation as a bathing place. The beach is
highly favourable for bathing, being composed of hard firm sand,
affording a perfectly safe carriage-drive of about eight miles in length,
along the margin of the sea. The ride to Towyn along the sands, at low
water, is extremely delightful.
Several respectable houses and a commodious hotel (the Corbet Arms) have
of late years been erected for the accommodation of visitors; and a
chapel of ease has also been lately built by subscription, which affords
great convenience to the inhabitants, who are four miles distant from the
parish church. Service is performed every Sunday morning in English, and
in the afternoon in the Welsh language.
The river Dovey is here one mile in width, and is crossed by a ferry,
which leads by a road along the sea shore to Borth, whence is a
communication with the Aberystwyth road. During the spring tides the
ferry can only be crossed at low water, on account of the sands being
flooded, and so rendered impassable. The river is navigable nine miles
up a most picturesque country, and affords good trout fishing.
ABERFFRAW,
(_Anglesea_.)
Caernarvon Ferry 3
Mona Inn 8
Newborough 7
Aberffraw, once a princely residence, is now reduced to a few small
houses; it is situated on the river Ffraw, near a small bay. Not a
vestige is to be seen of its former importance, except the rude wall of
an old barn, and Gardd y Llys, at the west end of the town. It was a
chief seat of the native princes, and one of the three courts of justice
for the Principality. Here was always kept one of the three copies of
the ancient code of laws. This place is of great antiquity, being one of
three selected by Roderic the Great, about 870, for the residence of his
successors. In 962 it was ravaged by the Irish. An extent was made of
Aberffraw in the 13th Edward III, from which may be learned some of the
ancient revenues of the Welsh princes. It appeared that part arose from
the rents of lands, from the profits of mills and fisheries, and often
from things taken in kind; but the last more frequently commuted for
their value in money. There is a good inn called the Prince Llywelyn.
Near to Aberffraw is Bodorgan, the seat of Owen Augustus Fuller Meyrick,
Esq., which is pleasantly situated, and overlooks Caernarvon bay. The
mansion, gardens, and conservatories are worth a visit from the tourist
ABERGELE,
(_Denbighshire_.)
Bangor 27
Chester 35
Conway 12
London 225
Rhuddlan 5
Rhyl 7
St. Asaph 8
Abergele, {8} a market town, is pleasantly situated on the great Chester
and Holyhead road, on the edge of Rhuddlan marsh, and about a mile from
the sea shore. The church is ancient, with a plain uninteresting tower,
which the white-washing hand of modern “improvement” has deprived of all
pretensions to the picturesque. The town consists only of one long
street; and in 1841, its population, with the parish, was returned at
2661.
The coast is composed of firm hard sands, affording delightful drives for
many miles. Tradition says, the sea has in old time overflowed a vast
tract of inhabited country, once extending at least three miles
northward; as an evidence of which, a dateless epitaph, in Welsh, on the
church-yard wall, is cited, which is thus translated: “In this church
yard lies a man who lived three miles to the north of it.” There is,
however, much stronger proof in the fact, that at low water may be seen,
at a distance from the clayey bank, a long tract of hard loam, in which
are imbedded numerous bodies of oak trees, tolerably entire, but so soft
as to cut with a knife as easily as wax: the wood is collected by the
poorer people, and, after being brought to dry upon the beach, is used as
fuel.
The salubrity of the air, the pleasantness of situation, and the
superiority of its shore for sea-bathing, have rendered this town a
favourite resort for genteel company, and it has long been a fashionable
watering place. The environs are picturesque, the scenery beautiful, and
many interesting excursions may be made from this locality. The Bee
Hotel, one of the best in the kingdom, is a most comfortable house, and
possesses superior accommodations; and there are some excellent private
lodgings to be had in the town: for those who would prefer a more
immediate contiguity to the sea, there are cottages close to the beach,
fit for respectable families, and apartments may be had from farmers, who
are in the habit of accommodating visitors for the summer season.
Bateman Jones, Esq. has a handsome residence on the road between the town
and the beach. Besides the Chester and Holyhead and other mails that
pass through Abergele, there is an omnibus which runs daily to Voryd, to
meet the Liverpool and Rhyl steam-packet.
The pretty villages of Bettws and Llanfair are in this immediate
neighbourhood: near the former is Coed Coch, the residence of J. Ll.
Wynn, Esq. Llanfair is most picturesquely situated on the Elwy, a little
way above its conflux with the Aled. Close to the village is Garthewin,
the sylvan residence of Brownlow W. Wynne, Esq. embowered in trees; and
following up the Elwy and its narrow but beautiful valley, is the village
of Llangerniew; near to it is Llyn Elwy, the pool from which issues and
gives name to the river Elwy. Havod-unos, about a quarter of a mile from
the village, is the seat of S. Sandbach, Esq. an eminent Liverpool
merchant, who some time ago purchased it and the estate, once the
property of a long list of _ap Llwyds_. Two or three miles to the
south-east, lies the village of Llansannan, at the head of the pretty
vale of Aled. Close below the village is the elegant modern mansion of
the Yorkes, called Dyffryn Aled: it is built of Bath free stone, and
presents a very beautiful and classical structure. These are places a
little out of the common track of tourists, but they will not be
disappointed at visiting them; and from Abergele is the most convenient
start to them. The roads are good; the country very beautiful; trout
fishing is excellent in the Elwy and Aled from their sources, the Aled
and Elwy pools, to Rhuddlan; and the villages afford very good passing-by
accommodations.
On the hills above Abergele, grow some of the more uncommon plants;
geranium sanguineum, rubia peregrina, halloboris fœtidus. In the shady
wood, paris quadrifolia, and ophrys nidus avis; and on the beach,
glaucium luteum, and eryngium maritimum abundantly. The hills are
interesting to the geologist as well as to the botanist; and command
remarkably grand and extensive views of the ocean, and of the adjacent
mountain scenery.
About a mile from Abergele, on the left of the road towards Conway,
stands Gwrych Castle, a modern castellated mansion, the property and
residence of Henry Lloyd Bamford Hesketh, Esq. The situation is
admirably chosen for a magnificent sea view, which, owing to the constant
passing of vessels for the ports of Liverpool and Chester, is extremely
beautiful and animated. Very near to this singular but ambitious looking
structure, is a huge calcareous rock, called Cefn-yr-Ogo (or the Back of
the Cavern), an inexhaustible mine of limestone, where a multitude of
labourers are constantly employed in blasting the rock, and breaking the
masses, which are exported to Liverpool and other places. But what
chiefly renders it curious is the circumstance of a number of natural
caverns penetrating its side in different places; one of which, called
Ogo (or the Cavern), is well worth a visit. It is celebrated in history
as having once afforded a place of retreat to a British army. Its mouth
resembles the huge arched entrance of a Gothic cathedral. A few feet
within this, and immediately in the centre of it, a rock rising from the
floor to the lofty roof, not unlike a massive pillar rudely sculptured,
divides the cavern into two apartments. The hollow to the left soon
terminates; but that to the right spreads into a large chamber, 30 feet
in height, and stretching to a greater depth than human curiosity has
ever been hardy enough to explore. Making a short turn a few yards from
the entrance, and sweeping into the interior of the mountain, the form
and dimension of the abyss are concealed in impenetrable darkness, and
its windings can only be followed about forty yards with prudence, when
the light totally disappears, and the flooring becomes both dirty and
unsafe. Stalactites of various fanciful forms decorate the fretted roof
and sides of this extraordinary cavern. {10}
From Cave Hill (Cefn-yr-Ogo), is an extensive and varied prospect. The
city of St. Asaph, the Vale of Clwyd, the mountains of Flintshire, and in
clear weather, a portion of Cheshire and Lancashire, with the town of
Liverpool, are distinctly seen to the eastward; and to the north is
visible the Isle of Man; to the west, the Island of Anglesea; and to the
south-west, the mountains of Caernarvonshire. Just below is the small
village of
Llanddulas.
In this little village or glen it is supposed that Richard the Second was
surrounded and taken by a band of ruffians, secreted by the Earl of
Northumberland, for the purpose of forcing him into the hands of
Bolingbroke, who was at Flint. Here enterprise has discovered the means
of realizing wealth. A railway, several miles long, has been constructed
from the sea to Llysfaen limestone rocks, being on a remarkably steep
incline down the side of the mountain. It is a stupendous work, and
highly creditable to the projector, Mr. Jones.
About two miles nearer Conway, is the increasing and respectable village
of Colwyn. A new church has lately been erected here. Glan-y-don, the
seat of H. Hesketh, Esq., is in this neighbourhood; Mr. Wynne and Dr.
Cumming have cottages here, and many other genteel residences have
recently been built. The sea bathing is very good, and the place is
pleasant and salubrious. Up the valley, to the left of the bridge, is
the village of Llanelian, with its calm green meadows, and its far-famed
holywell, or Ffynan Fair.
Returning to Abergele, and at the opposite end, is a good and direct road
to Rhuddlan, through a number of excellent and extensive corn farms. The
road crosses the celebrated Morva Rhuddlan (or Rhuddlan Marsh).
About three miles on the St. Asaph road is the neat and clean little
village of