PANORAMA. (continued 2)

In this mansion is still preserved a hirlas, or drinking horn of the hero, Piers Gruffydd, perhaps the only elegant specimen of that kind of utensil, elucidatory of ancient manners, at present existing. It is a large bugle, of an ox’s horn, ornamented with enchased silver, and suspended by a chain of the same metal, having the initials of his own name and family engraved at the end. Piers Gruffydd owned Penrhyn estate in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and joined the fleet of Sir Francis Drake, in a vessel which he purchased and equipped at his own cost. He was afterwards in the gallant action with the Spanish Armada. In the royal court of Cambria, there were legally three sorts of horns for the purpose of public or private libations. The first was y corn ydd yuo y brenin, or the one solely appropriated to the king’s use; second, corn cyweithas, by which the domestics of the palace were summoned to duty; and third, corn y pencynydd, committed to the custody of the chief huntsman. On grand occasions, the domestics of the palace were permitted to drink out of the sovereign’s horn; and the chamberlain or high steward, on such occasions, furnished handsome potations of the generous metheglin. The contents of the horn at these times assumed the name of the sacred potion, similar to the wassail bowl, or the apostle’s cup, in use among the Saxons. Ulphus, when he conveyed certain lands to the church at York, is said to have quaffed off the contents of such a vessel, drinking a health, Deo et sancto Petro (to God and St. Peter). On festive days, the imperative custom was to empty the horn at one tip, and instantly blow it, as a testimony that it had been thoroughly drained.

The improvements made by the late Lord Penrhyn in this very interesting parish and its flourishing neighbourhood were most comprehensive and important. The aspect of the country has, in fact, been thoroughly changed; and profitable employment found for thousands of the working population. About forty years ago, this part of the country bore a most wild, barren, and neglected appearance; but it is now covered with handsome villas, well-built farm-houses, neat cottages, rich meadows, well-cultivated fields, and flourishing plantations; bridges have been built, new roads made, bogs and swampy grounds drained and cultivated, neat fences raised, and barren rocks covered with woods.

Slate Quarries.

The slate quarries at Cae Braich-y-Cefn (about six from Bangor), in the vicinity of Nant Francon, the most considerable in Wales, are the property of the family of Penrhyn Castle. The rock has been opened at vast expense, and the quarries are worked with great judgment and enterprise. There are more than 2000 persons continually employed; and it is computed that about two hundred tons of slates are daily conveyed down to Port Penrhyn, whence they are exported to various parts of the kingdom, to Ireland, and to America. These quarries were discovered so far back as the time of Queen Elizabeth. In 1740 the slates were all of one size, and very small. But when Lord Penrhyn took the quarries into his own hands, about 1782, his lordship cleared the rubbish, which had been accumulating for ages, and opened these quarries in a judicious and scientific manner. His lordship also constructed an iron railway from the quarries to Port Penrhyn, a distance of six miles, which is said to have cost £170,000. The weekly wages now paid to the workmen engaged in these quarries amount to about £1700.

On the arrival of a visitor, he should, if possible, obtain permission to accompany one of the overlookers of the works in his round, rather than trust to the casual guidance of any idler who may be found lurking about with the intention to profer assistance; as the sole object of the latter is to procure payment, without giving himself much trouble in pointing out the wonders of the place. Should he be successful, the intelligent and communicative spirit of his guide will amply repay the difficulty he may have experienced in finding him.

He will be conducted to every ledge of the mountain, up an inclined plane, till he reaches the summit, and will have an opportunity of seeing the whole process of the slate manufacture. In one place he will discover the workmen aloft, suspended by ropes against the precipitous side of the rock, busily employed in splitting down every projecting shelf of the blue steganium; in another, persons employed in the laborious occupation of boring for the purpose of filling the orifice with gunpowder, to rend the rock from the immense mass to which it is attached; others occupied in removing the rubbish, of which so many years’ labour has produced a wonderful accumulation; and numbers in splitting the detached masses, and cutting them into a variety of sizes, denominated duchesses, countesses, ladies, &c. which names were bestowed by General Warburton about the year 1765. This process is executed with astonishing rapidity. Then may be heard the alarum shout, betokening that a fusee is lighted and will soon explode, warning those employed in the vicinity to secure themselves from danger; and in a few moments, the explosion itself rattles through the extensive levels with terrific grandeur. It cannot be expected that accidents amongst the workmen are of rare occurrence; on the contrary, they too frequently happen, for scarce a week passes without some poor fellows meeting with severe bodily injury; but this is solely attributed to their own negligence of the proper precaution.

Portions of the mountain are farmed by individuals, who pay a price consonant with the value or quality of the substratum, and employ workmen to remove and fit it for exportation; when they receive so much per thousand, in the same ratio, for their labour. There is a strong spring of water at the top of the mountain, which is conveyed by a large wooden pipe to the bottom, and there rendered serviceable in turning an immense cutting mill. A few hundred yards distant, also, are several mills of this description, where large pieces of rock are cut into grave-stones, and into the requisite sizes for roofing houses, and for the use of schools, &c.

St. Ann’s chapel, near the quarries, was erected and liberally endowed by the late Lord Penrhyn; and Lady Penrhyn left a sum for an organ, and a suitable stipend for the organist.—Within a short distance of the slate quarries is the charming cottage of the late Lady Penrhyn, called

Ogwen Bank.

It is now used by Mr. Pennant’s family as an occasional resort on paying a morning visit to the quarries, or other objects of curiosity in the neighbourhood. The style is florid Gothic, and shows great taste in the design. The centre contains an elegant room, the front of it forming a segment of a circle; the wings contain a coach house and stabling. Over the river Ogwen is a bridge corresponding with the architecture of the house. This beautiful cottage is hid from the road by the trees and plantation; Llwyd calls it “the Eden of the Mountains.”

Before quitting this remarkably interesting vicinity, we take leave to quote the following description from the graphic pen of Miss Costello:—

“From Bangor the lofty towers and turrets of Penrhyn Castle are conspicuous in the scenery, and have a very grand and imposing appearance, more so than any modern erection of the kind I ever saw. The building stands on a commanding height, and from its elevation has a magnificent view of Beaumaris Bay, and all the wide sweep of the sea, Puffin or Priestholm Island and a great part of Anglesea, the fine bold rock of the Great Orme’s Head, said to have once been dedicated to Serpent worship, and the range of the Caernarvonshire mountains.

“So stately, so massive, and so stupendous is this castle, that it scarcely seems the work of a modern architect; and if there had been more simplicity observed in its construction, it might well pass for a genuine Roman castle. The enormous profusion of ornament with which the doors, windows, staircases, halls, and ceilings are covered, betray the effort made to render that complete which would have been more so with less pains. The involved pillars, the redundant zigzags, the countless grotesque heads, of all sizes, grinning from all heights, the groves of slender columns, the circular arches, the semi-pointed arcades, form a maze of architecture such as never could have before, in any age, appeared on one spot.

“To wander through the wondrous halls of Penrhyn is like struggling along in a bewildered dream, occasioned by having studied some elaborate work on the early buildings of the Saxons and Normans. The eyes are dazzled and the mind confused with the quick succession of astonishing forms; but the result is rather wonder at the imagination or close copying of the artist, and at the enormous wealth which could repay such an exertion of skill, than admiration of the beauty created. Mona marble and fine stone furnish materials for all these sculptured treasures, and slate enters into much of the adornment; for close by are the famous slate-quarries, which have produced the enormous sums expended on this erection. In order to shew what can be done with slate, various articles of furniture are placed in the rooms occupying the places usually filled by carved wood and marble; chimney-pieces and tables of polished slate are seen, but the great triumph is a bedstead, beautifully carved, which, though far from elegant, is yet exceedingly curious.

“The library and drawing-rooms are very fine, and have even a comfortable appearance: all the house is gorgeously decorated, and all its laboured splendour announces such immense riches, that it seems as though the gnomes who work gold and silver in the neighbouring hills had all been made slaves of some potent lamp or ring, and had worked incessantly for years in the construction and adornment of the most gigantic mass of architecture that ever was beheld. There are, however, very few specimens of the higher order of art; a few portraits are to be found in one room, which are curious. In particular I was struck with a likeness of the celebrated Anne Clifford, of Cumberland, when a child: she is dressed in a stiff black dress, all over buttons and ornaments, and from under her arm peeps a hideous little dog. As, in her memoirs, she dwells a good deal on her own beauty, one cannot but smile at this comment on her vanity, for, unless the artist did her great injustice, she must have been a singularly ugly child. Two portraits of the Countess of Derby are remarkable: one has a child’s doll lying on a table near her, and in the other she is represented holding a feather fan, and covered and half smothered with elaborate ruffs which seem to bristle up in every part of her attire.

“The famous hirlas horn, belonging to an ancient Cambrian prince, the treasure of the castle, we had not an opportunity of seeing, as we found it was carefully locked up from public view. It held the same place as the Saxon wassail bowl, and it was customary that those who had the honour of drinking from it should empty the horn at one draught, and then blow it, to prove that they had performed the feat expected of them. One of the most picturesque objects on the way to the famous slate quarries, is the little mill of Coet Mor, whose wheel is turned by a rushing stream breaking wildly over heaps of rocks.

“The slate quarries of Penrhyn are situated near Nant Ffrancon, at a spot called Cae Braich-y-Cefn, and are exceedingly curious, and even picturesque. We were conducted over them by a very loquacious Irishman, the only person of his nation employed in the works, all the others being Welsh.

“Most of these places, where enormous labour produces enormous wealth, are to me displeasing to contemplate; but there is nothing here that conveys an idea of over-tasked workmen, no horrible underground toil and dark dungeon-like caves, where human creatures are condemned, like souls in penance for some hideous crime, to drag heavy weights and chains through frightful chasms, and delve and dig for ore in spaces not large enough for them to stand upright; here are no deadly vapours, no fatal gases mortal to humanity, all is wide and open in the pure light of day, high, and broad, and healthy. The mountain is cut into ridges of slate, and here and there the projecting edges have formed themselves into graceful shapes: in the very centre of the quarry rises a beautiful conical pillar of slate which the admiration of the workmen has spared, now that their labours have brought it to the shape which it bears. It is a great ornament to the area, and it is to be regretted that in time it must fall, as the slate of which it is composed happens to be of the purest kind. The huts of the workmen scattered over the quarry have a singular effect, and the wild aspect of the men accords well with their abodes. The thundering sound produced by the occasional blasting of the rock is very grand, as it rolls and echoes amongst the caves, and along the heights; and the grey masses glowing in the sun, and reflecting the sky through their rents, have an imposing aspect.”

In July, 1844, the King of Saxony made a tour through England and Wales; a narrative of which, written by His Majesty’s Physician, Dr. Carus, has been published in the present year (1846). From that journal of the royal travels, we extract the subjoined passages—which may serve to show the impressions made upon the mind of an intelligent though somewhat prejudiced foreigner, by the more striking objects of interest in this locality.

“As the road approaches Bangor, it runs near the sea, and brings us close to the end of one of the most extraordinary structures of modern times—the vast iron suspension bridge which forms the junction between the mainland and the island, universally known and celebrated as the Menai Bridge.

“The drivers were ordered to stop, and we dismounted, in order to pass over and examine this splendid work, and endeavour to gain as accurate an idea as possible of its nature and size. The coasts of Wales and Anglesea at both sides of the strait, are rocky, and about 100 feet high, and the breadth of the channel by which they are separated, is about 1600 feet. The object was to connect the two coasts by a bridge, and it has been fully attained. Two very stout columns of solid masonry are built in the water, one on each side, over the summits of which are stretched the immense chains, from which the bridge itself is suspended. The channel between the columns is about 600 feet wide, and over this stretches the horizontal line of the road-way, which is supported and made fast by means of about 800 strong iron rods. Each of the sixteen chains which constitute the suspending power, is stated to be 1714 feet long, and consists of large massive links, joined and bound together by strong iron bolts. These chains pass over the tops of the supporting columns, on moveable iron rollers of great strength, and are thus in a condition readily to accommodate themselves to the changes of temperature, without risk. The greatest difference in length between the strongest summer heat and most intense winter cold, is said to amount to sixteen inches. The work was begun under the direction of Mr. Telford, in the year 1819, and finished in 1826. Such is the general idea of the whole structure. When seen from the side, it is very difficult immediately to form a notion of the magnitude of the work; and besides, the simplicity of the outline gives at first an impression of very moderate extent. The feeling is very much the same as that with which strangers are impressed on the first view of St. Peter’s in Rome. They find it extremely difficult to believe that a structure of such magnitude is before them. And as the banks on both sides are very uniform, it requires to be compared with some other object—such as that of a large ship sailing through beneath, in order to gain a correct notion of its real magnitude. On viewing the bridge, and passing over it, through its long uniform alleys of ever-recurring iron rods, another observation forced itself upon my mind. This immense work, which in all its parts is regulated by the principle of utility, is totally deficient in all the charms of beauty. It cuts the landscape like a black uniform line, concave on one side, and perfectly horizontal on the other; and when viewed closely, the columns by which the bridge is supported, are wholly destitute of every description of architectural or sculptural ornament. Those perpetually recurring iron rods, which follow one another in monotonous rows, only serve to suggest the feeling of despair to which a painter must be reduced in any attempt to delineate the structure, and to give any thing like an accurate drawing of this tedious iron lattice-road. True, it may be very difficult to combine the demands of taste with the strict principles of utility in such an undertaking, where the grand object is strength. There is, properly speaking, a genuine English, dry, pedantic character usually exhibited in such structures as this. And, after all, what style should art here apply in order to introduce the charms of beauty into a work of this character? Neither the Egyptian nor Grecian style is at all appropriate to works in iron—the Gothic is quite as little applicable to such a purpose—and I have already remarked that in addition to these three, there can be as little pretension to introduce a fourth, really distinct from them, as to add a new kingdom to those of the recognised mineral, animal, and vegetable ones. This makes the task of the architect a very difficult one to accomplish. It is for them to see how the difficulty is to be met.

“Having passed over the bridge to the Anglesea side, we descended to the shore, and took a boat, in order to have a view of this immense structure from beneath. By far the clearest idea of the vastness of the work is thus obtained, by viewing it from the green sea, which flows beneath with a gentle southerly current; the true magnitude and proportions of the bridge are then most deeply impressed upon the mind; but even here, no idea of beauty is suggested. Other bridges, with their various arches and ornamental buttresses, may, and frequently do present objects of great beauty to the eye. This, however, is, and must always remain, a great mathematical figure.

“After having thus examined the bridge from all parts of the river, we descended into the vast cavern on the Anglesea side, in which the ends of the chains are made fast in the rocks far under ground. The whole is planned with great ingenuity and skill. The rock, which forms the resisting power, is armed, as it were, with huge masses of iron, containing deep mortices, into which the bolts that bind the ends of the chains are made fast.

“In this manner, therefore, the sixteen powerful chains are fastened in the deep rocks on both sides of the strait; and assuredly, no human power or weight can be well conceived sufficient to tear them from the depth in which they are anchored. Even the long Macadamized bridge itself presents such a degree of stability, as to be very little moved by the carriages which pass over its surface.”

* * * *

“On the morning of the 13th, (July, 1844,) the birthday of my dear mother, I enjoyed a beautiful view of the little port of Bangor, from the garden terrace of the hotel, from which a view is obtained of the northern opening of the Menai Strait, of the bay of Beaumaris, and the more distant mountains of Wales. The weather, too, was tolerably fine in the morning; but at the time of our departure it had become cloudy, and it was raining hard when we arrived at the remarkable and extensive Penrhyn slate quarries, which are of great importance to the whole of Wales. They are situated about six miles to the N.E. of Bangor, on the slope of the hill, and have been particularly rich and productive for the last fifty years. When one arrives at this quarry from below, it presents the appearance almost of a crater open towards the front, along the lips of which, twelve or fourteen terraces run, one above another, each of which is from forty-five to fifty feet high, and upon which the works of blasting and digging are carried on by about 2000 workmen. The stone is of a reddish-brown; sometimes, also, greyish slate, of fine grain, which splits well into plates, and takes a fine polish. The mass never contains organic remains, but is frequently traversed by strata of quarry or limestone, in which crystals of some metals, principally copper and iron, occur.

“The manner in which these quarries are worked is the following. On the galleries, or terraces, large masses of slate are first detached by means of powder, and then roughly hewn into shape. There are laid along each of these terraces tram-roads formed of rails loosely laid down, upon which the masses of slate, in waggons with suitable wheels, are thrust along by men to the little houses situated on the declivity of the mountain, at the extremities of the galleries. Here they are split into smaller plates; and it is curious to observe how regularly the slate splits into fine and still finer plates, down to the thickness of three or four lines. Several pieces are allowed to retain a thickness of an inch or an inch and a half, and are used for tables and flagstones, the thinner ones for covering roofs, &c. The manner, too, in which they are squared, being cut out at once by a sort of hatchet, according to a line made by means of a ruler, is very curious. The plates thus formed are distinguished by very amusing names. Thus the largest are called queens, the next princesses, then duchesses, ladies, and so on. The enormous quantity of slate produced may be estimated from the facts, that a railway has been constructed specially from these quarries to Penrhyn harbour, at an expense of £170,000, which every week takes down between 500 and 600 tons, or about 12,000 cwt. of slate; and that the yearly net produce has sometimes brought in as much as £60,000 to the owner of the quarry, the Hon. Douglas Pennant.

“The quarrying itself is attended with considerable danger. The workmen, when a portion of the rock is to be blasted from the upper part of a gallery, are obliged to bore the hole, suspended in mid-air by ropes, to load the hole so bored, to set fire to the match, and then to place themselves beyond the reach of the explosion. They are also exposed to the chance of accidents from the falling of portions of the sharp slate; and it was carious, even yesterday—on which, being pay-day, the work was not regularly going on—to hear now and then the explosion of the blasting of some part of the rock, at the same time that it was almost difficult to pass along the galleries, without falling over the little railways or some of the sharp pieces of stone. The manner in which Queen Victoria was received here, on her visit some years ago, must have produced a curious effect. As soon as she arrived, 1300 explosions were heard from all parts of the quarry, having been all previously prepared for this purpose. After having (the greater part of the time in the rain) inspected all the parts of this immense quarry, and, besides, a saw-mill, for cutting up the thicker plates of the slate, we returned towards Bangor, and visited Penrhyn Castle, the property of the Hon. D. Pennant. In olden times, a castle belonging to Roderic Molwynog, grandson of Cadwallader, stood on this spot. It was rebuilt in the time of Henry the Sixth, and has been quite lately renewed (under the direction of a London architect, of the name of Hopper) by the father-in-law of the present possessor. It is a remarkable and splendid building, such as could only be completed with a revenue like that proceeding from the quarries.

“On entering the park, the castle is seen on a wooded height, grey, like Windsor, with large towers and high turrets, without any apparent roof, quite like an old fortress. Through the castle-gate we entered the court-yard, ornamented in the Norman style: but this style is much more splendidly and grandly exhibited in the entrance-hall, from whence staircases conduct to the upper rooms. Every thing here is in the Saxon style of building; the columns with their curious ornaments, and the upper parts covered with arabesques. Tall stone candelabra and a splendid chimney-piece, all in the same style, increase the magnificent appearance of the hall; the windows with their round arches are filled with stained glass; the staircase winds over arches supported on columns, and beside Norman statues; in a word, the whole sight is grand and imposing. The internal arrangements of the whole place, the drawing and dining rooms, the library, the bed-rooms, are all on a similar scale of magnificence; several wainscotted with beautiful carved oak: the furniture and beds all harmonising with the prevailing style of the building. We remarked a curious object in the state bed-room (almost all such castles appear to have such a state room, with a bed in it); namely, a bed, of which the whole of the bedstead and the posts which supported the canopy were made of the finest black slate, beautifully polished and manufactured. This reference to the principal foundation of the wealth of the possessor, appeared to me to show his gratitude rather than his taste. It may easily be supposed, however, that other curious objects were to be seen here; among these, we were shewn one of those curious drinking horns, formerly general in this district, as also in Scandinavia. I was sorry that we entirely lost the view from the continued rain; for this view, both towards the sea and towards the mountains, must be of a very splendid description.”

BANGOR IS-Y-COED, (Flintshire.)

Chester 13

Ellesmere 8

Holt 7

Overton 3

Whitchurch 10½

Wrexham 5

Bangor Is-y-coed stands in a detached part of the country, on the banks of the Dee, over which is a good stone bridge of five arches, from the vicinity of which a beautiful landscape is presented. This place is celebrated as the site of the most ancient monastery in Britain, founded, as old writers assert, by Lucius, the son of Coel, and first Christian king of Britain, prior to the year 180. Lucius formed it into a university, for the increase of learning, and the preservation of the Christian faith in this realm; and it produced many learned men even in that early age. At the arrival of Augustine about 596, on a mission from Pope Gregory I. to convert the English Saxons to Christianity, this monastery appears to have been in a very flourishing state. The monks at Bangor were independent of the Romish church; and in a conference between St. Augustine and its governors, the imperious missionary demanded of them that they should keep the feast of Easter at the same time that the Papists did; that they should administer baptism according to the ceremonies of the church of Rome; and “preach the word of life with him and his fellows.” In other things, he said, they would be allowed to retain their ancient customs, insolently concluding, that “if they would not accept of peace with their brethren, they should receive war from their enemies.” They refused obedience to his injunctions, and resolutely maintained the original rites of their church. Shortly after this period followed the dreadful massacre of the monks of Bangor.

Not long after this event, the monastery became neglected, and went entirely to decay. William of Malmsbury, who lived shortly after the Norman conquest, asserts, that even in his time, there remained only some relics of its ancient magnificence: there were, he says, so many ruined churches and such immense heaps of rubbish, as were not elsewhere to be found. Leland says of it, in the time of Henry the Seventh, that its site was in a fertile valley on the south side of the Dee; but that the river having since changed its course, then ran through the middle of the ground on which it stood. The extent of its walls, he affirms, was equal to that of the walls round a town; and the two gates, the names of which had been handed down by tradition, had been half a mile asunder. Within the memory of persons then living, the bones of the monks, and pieces of their clothes, had been ploughed up, in the cultivation of the ground.

BARMOUTH OR ABERMAW, (Merionethshire.)

Aberdovey 16

Dolgelley 10

Harlech 10

London 225

Towyn 12

The town of Barmouth is seated near the bottom of some high mountains, many of the houses being built on the steep sides; and viewed from the sea, it resembles a fortress of some strength, hanging immediately over the sands. The town stands near to the sea, at the mouth of the Maw or Mawddach, and takes its name of Barmouth, i.e. Abermaw or Mawddach, from that circumstance. At high water, the tide here forms a bay above a mile over, but the entrance is rather hazardous, on account of the sand-banks. This is the only port of Merionethshire, but its commerce is not very extensive. The chief manufactures are flannels and woollen stockings; and of these Mr. Pennant observed sixty years ago, that £40,000 worth of the former have been exported in a year, and £10,000 worth of stockings.

The parish church is distant about a mile and a half from the town, but in 1830 a chapel of ease was opened here for Divine service, which is principally performed in English. A national school has recently been erected at the outskirts of the town, on the Harlech road, from an excellent design by Mr. Jones, of Chester. There are also chapels in the town occupied by the Wesleyans, the Calvinists, and Independents.

The town is generally well filled with fashionable bathers in the summer season, for whose convenience, accommodation, and amusement, the inhabitants have made ample provision. There are two excellent inns: the Cors-y-gedol Arms, where post chaises and cars, as well as guides to Coder Idris, and the lakes and waterfalls, may be obtained; and also the Commercial Inn, with stabling and coach-houses. During the summer months, stage-coaches leave and arrive every day in the week, except Sunday, from different places, including Liverpool, Shrewsbury, and Caernarvon. There is a mail every day to and from the latter place, passing through Harlech, Tan-y-bwlch, Tremadoc, and Beddgelert. A four-horse mail-coach between Chester and Barmouth has lately commenced running daily. There are several good shops; and for the accommodation of visitors, circulating libraries have been established. Here, also, are two baths, a billiard-room, and a bowling-green. The lodging houses are excellent. The town, and the turnpike-roads throughout the district, have lately been greatly improved, and are still improving. The population is about 2000.

“The beach,” says Mr. Bingley, “is one of the most delightful walks I ever beheld. The wide river Mawddach winds among the mountains, forming many and elegant promontories. These rise to great heights on each side, some clad with wood, and others exhibiting their naked rocks, scantily covered with purple heath. The summit of the lofty Cader Idris is seen to rise above the other mountains, in the back ground.” From Barmouth a delightful excursion may be made along the banks of the Maw, or in a boat up the river, for about eight miles. The beach also affords a beautiful drive of six miles. From this place a projecting causeway, called Sarn-Badric, runs 15 miles into the sea, which tradition says, though her evidence alone is but slight authority, once surrounded one hundred cities. The upper part is perceptible at low water.

In the neighbourhood of Barmouth are several gentlemen’s mansions and other pretty residences, of which Bryntirion, the property of Charles Henry Harford, Esq., was the most beautiful: it was destroyed by fire about the latter end of 1840, and has not yet been rebuilt.

The Rev. Mr. Newell, in his Scenery of Wales, observes that while at Cors-y-gedol Arms, at Barmouth, he was introduced to a Welsh harper, whose performance he did not seem much to admire. Mr. Newell then adds, “It is a curious circumstance that we owe Gray’s Bard to a Welsh harper—blind Parry, Sir W. W. Wynn’s harper. In a letter from Cambridge, Gray says:—‘Mr. Parry has been here, and scratched out such ravishing blind harmony, such tones of a thousand years old, with names enough to choke you, as have set all this learned body a dancing, and inspired them with due respect for my old bard, his countryman, whenever he shall appear. Mr. Parry, you must know, has set my ode in motion again, and has brought it at last to a conclusion.’”

The angling stations are, Arthog Chapel, three miles distant, and Llyn Bodlyn, four miles from Barmouth; Llyn Irddin and Llyn Geirw, near to the town; and Llyn Raithlyn, in the neighbourhood of Traws-fynydd.

BEAUMARIS, (Anglesea.)

Amlwch 17

Bangor, by the bridge 6½

Caernarvon 12

Conway 14½

Holyhead 27

London, by Chester 258

— by Shrewsbury 243

Mona 14

Snowdon 12

Beaumaris, a most respectable and well-built town, in Anglesea, is a corporate borough, where the assizes for that county are held. The town and liberties are included in the parishes of Llandegvan and Llanvaes: the whole occupying a district nearly semi-circular in form, and presenting to the Menai a bold rocky cliff of three miles, and an indented beach of more than two. This place, like many others on the Welsh coast, has lately become a most fashionable resort for bathing visitors, for which it is admirably adapted, the sands being firm and the water clear. In 1805, hot baths were erected here, and accommodations of the first class abound.

The church, formerly called “the Chauntry of our Lady of Beaumaris,” is considered as a chapel of ease to Llandegvan. It is situated on an eminence in the centre of the town, and consists of a nave, isles, and chancel, covered with lead, and embrasured; having a ring of six bells, a clock, and an organ, all the gift of the late Lord Bulkeley. In the chancel is a beautiful monument of a knight and his lady, in white alabaster, recumbent on an altar-tomb. Mr. Llwyd says, they represent Sir Richard Bulkeley and his lady; the former was appointed Chamberlain of North Wales, and was in great favour with Queen Elizabeth. In the church, a white marble monument, executed by Westmacott, in memory of the late Lord Bulkeley, who died June 3, 1822, stands on the left side of the altar: this beautiful piece of sculpture represents Faith directing the view of the dejected widow towards the bust of her husband and to heaven. Also a beautiful monument of a female kneeling in an attitude of devotion, on a pedestal, by Ternouth, to the memory of Charlotte Mary, first wife of Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley, Bart., and daughter of Lord Dinorben. There is likewise a tablet to the memory of David Hughes, erected in 1812, by some persons who had been educated in the Free School of which he was the founder. There are also several other monuments and tablets, but not possessing any peculiar attraction. On a plain stone near the east entrance into the church is the following quaint inscription to the memory of Meredith Davies:—

Who has been our parish clerk Full one and thirty years, I say, Must here, alas! lie in the dark Bemoaned for ever and for aye.

Near to the church is the Free School, founded in 1603, by David Hughes, Esq., who also endowed alms-houses for six poor persons, to whom he granted annuities; the late Lord Bulkeley added four to this number; they are situated about a mile from the town, near the entrance of Baron Hill Park. Near the castle are the shire hall, and other suitable offices, where the assizes are held. The town-hall is a good building, comprising the assembly-room and a suite of civic apartments. A custom-house and a national school are also included among the public institutions of Beaumaris.

The Williams Bulkeley Arms Hotel is a magnificent establishment, and most admirably conducted. The Commercial and Liverpool Arms Inns are also houses where good accommodation may be had. The market-days are Wednesday and Saturday. Population, 2299.

Beaumaris enjoys a most beautiful and sublime prospect, with the distinguishing peculiarity, that the eye at the same time rests on a noble expanse of the ocean, and an extensive range of some of the loftiest mountains in Wales. A grander or more interesting scene it is impossible to imagine. From the spacious piece of ground called the Green, which, landward, is enclosed by the hotel, a splendid range of houses called Victoria Terrace, and the old Castle, this enchanting view is seen to the best advantage; seaward, at full tide, it presents to the eye an infinite variety, in numbers of trading vessels, yachts, and smaller pleasure boats, constantly passing close to the beach, whilst at low water the sands afford many delightful and extensive drives.

“Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view?”

The Castle.

Beaumaris castle was the last of the three great fortresses erected by Edward the First, to hold in awe his new and unwilling subjects on both sides the Menai. For this purpose he fixed upon a flat near the water side, with the view of surrounding it with a fosse, for the double purpose of defence, and bringing small craft to unload their cargoes under its walls; part of which canal, called the Llyn-y-Green, was till lately remaining; and the large iron ring, to which the vessels were fastened, is still in its place at the great east gate.

Within the present ruins of the castle is an area or square, of 190 feet, with obtuse corners; on the right is the chapel, an admirable piece of masonry, and the only entire room in all Edward’s buildings; its stone arched roof having saved it at the general dilapidation. Opposite to the south-east entrance is the great hall, 70 feet long and 23 broad, with a range of five elegant windows, and forming a front (its turreted angles excepted) that has rather a modern appearance; and though, upon the whole, a fortress of prodigious magnitude, yet its low situation, and the great diameter of its Moorish towers, cause its ample proportions to appear of less height and extent than is really the case. This castle is reputed to be the scene of the massacre of the bards by Edward the First, who does not appear to have felt secure in his newly-acquired dominions so long as this influential order remained to raise the song and string the lyre to deeds of patriotic resistance. The same system of persecution seems to have been acted upon after the death of the bardicide; for in the reign of Henry the Fourth, Rhŷs Gôch, speaking of Gruffydd Llwyd, says—

“The best of bards is interdicted.”

Within the area of this ancient castle, in the month of August, 1832, was held a splendid Congress of Bards, or Eisteddfod, under the munificent patronage of Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley. It was attended by most of the nobility and gentry of the neighbouring counties; and the meeting derived peculiar importance from the presence of Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, and her illustrious daughter, then Princess Victoria, now the Queen of these realms. During several months of that summer, the royal party had honoured the Principality with their residence, fixing their domicile for the time at Plâs Newydd, the elegant seat of the Marquis of Anglesea. A grand regatta in the bay followed the literary and musical contests in the castle; and the evenings were agreeably enlivened with splendid concerts, balls, and other festivities.

Baron Hill.

On an eminence behind the town stands this charming residence of the late Lord Bulkeley. At his death, it descended to his nephew, Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley, Bart. M.P., by whom it is now occupied. It has recently been rebuilt and modernised, and is delightfully situated on the declivity of a richly-wooded hill, commanding a fine prospect of all the northern mountains of Caernarvonshire, of the bay of Beaumaris, and a vast expanse of sea. This place has been in possession of the Bulkeley family from the date of the second charter of the corporation of Beaumaris, procured in the reign of Elizabeth. The house was originally built in the reign of James I., for the reception of Henry, the eldest son of that monarch, when on his way to Ireland. But his untimely death so much affected Sir Richard Bulkeley, the owner, that he gave up his original and magnificent plan, and used the part only that was then completed for his family seat. The old house was greatly enlarged and improved by its late noble possessor. The extensive grounds are finely wooded, and laid out with great taste and judgment. The gardens have been extended and beautified, and the liberal owner generously allows them to be thrown open for the accommodation of the public. Sir R. Bulkeley is deservedly esteemed for his efforts to improve the agriculture of his native county, by the introduction of modern and scientific culture.

At a short distance east of the house, in a sylvan recess, is the stone coffin of the Princess Joan, consort of Llywelyn ab Iorwerth, Prince of Wales in 1105. It had originally been deposited in the subjacent monastery of Llanvaes, and, on the dissolution of that religions establishment, was placed to receive a watering brook, like that of Richard III. at Leicester, after the fatal battle of Bosworth field. In 1812 it was discovered, in its ignoble uses, by Mr. R. Llwyd, author of Beaumaris Bay, after being lost for 290 years, when it was removed to its present situation by the late Lord Bulkeley.

A few hundred yards distant from Baron Hill is Henllys Lodge, the residence of Captain Lewis Hampton, containing a valuable collection of curiosities, which any respectable person is at liberty to inspect. Contiguous to it is The Fryars, the residence of the late Lady Williams, relict of the late Sir R. Williams, Bart., of Nant, Caernarvonshire, and mother of Sir R. W. Bulkeley, Bart.

Six miles from Beaumaris is the village of Pentraeth, delightfully situated in the vicinity of Red Wharf. Near it are the mansions of Plâs-gwyn, the seat of Lord Vivian, who married Miss Panton, the heiress and grand daughter of the late Jones Panton, Esq., and thus became possessed of this fine property, which he has greatly unproved; Rhiwlas, the seat of the Rev. Gethin Williams; and Red Hill, the seat of — Sparrow, Esq. The neighbourhood is worthy of a visit, being the direct road to Amlwch.

The church at Pentraeth was thought worthy of an engraving by Mr. Grose, the antiquary. The Panton Arms is a good country house of entertainment. Not far from Pentraeth, and near the sea-side, is Tre’r Castell, formerly the residence of Marchudd, founder of one of the royal tribes of Wales. It is now an ancient castellated mansion. It was also the residence of Sir Tudor ap Goronwy, who did homage to Edward the second, when Prince of Wales, at Chester. On this domain is supposed to have been fought, in 818, the “sore battle of Llanfaes,” between Egbert, King of the Welsh Saxons, and Merfyn Frych, King of Wales. From this place Queen Elisabeth received annually a large supply of metheglin or mead, a favourite Welsh beverage. Close by is Castell Aber Lleiniog, where are the vestiges of an ancient fort, founded by Hugh Lupus and the Earl Hugh of Shrewsbury, when they took possession of Anglesea. The neighbourhood, in fact, is rich in scenic beauty and historical associations.

Beaumaris Bay,

Which stretches itself before and on each side of the town forms a well-sheltered harbour, and in stormy weather affords security to vessels of considerable burthen. The depth of the water near the town is six or seven fathoms even when the tide is out; but this deep channel scarcely extends more than a quarter of a mile in width. All the rest of the bay, for several miles, is left dry at low water, and has the name of Lavan Sands. Among the intelligent natives an opinion is prevalent that these sands once formed a habitable hundred of Caernarvonshire, and were first overflowed during the sixth century.

The sea of the Menai occasionally produces very singular fish. That called the Beaumaris Shark sometimes appears; a curious species of mussel; and creatures of forms that astonish the fishermen;—

“Strange things come up, to look at them, The monsters of the deep.”

This may perhaps account for the marvellous legend, preserved in “The Triads of the Isle of Britain,” concerning “the Palug Cat of the Menai.” A remarkable whale was captured in this Bay in the spring of 1846, and sent to Liverpool for exhibition. The whole shore throughout the district is said to be “a mine of fish.”

Llanvaes Abbey.

About a mile from Beaumaris, near the seat of the widow of late Sir Robert Williams, Bart., and not far from the shore, are yet to be seen, in the walls of a barn, the poor remains of the house of Franciscan friars, founded in the thirteenth century by Llywelyn ab Iorwerth, Prince of Wales, still called by the above name. At the dissolution, the establishment maintained eight friars, of whom two only were allowed to be Welshmen, when the convent and its possessions were sold: they are at present the property of Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley.

Penmon Priory.

Two miles north of Llanvaes Friary, stands this ancient and decayed ruin, consisting at present of little more than the ruinous refectory and part of the church. This was a priory of Benedictine monks, dedicated to St. Mary, founded in the sixth century, and re-endowed in the thirteenth by Llywelyn ab Iorwerth. At its suppression by Henry the Eighth, the revenues were valued at £48 per annum.

Priestholm, or Puffin Island,

A small island, divided by the narrow channel called the Sound from the eastern extremity of Anglesea: its British name, Ynys Seriol, is derived from the residence of St. Seriol upon it in the sixth century: the compound name of Priest-holm originated in its being the occasional retreat of the religious of the neighbouring priory of Penmon. It is also called Puffin Island, from its being annually resorted to by these birds for the purpose of breeding.

This island will afford a day of sport to the disciple of Colonel Hawker—or of information to the industrious antiquary—or amusement to a pic-nic party; and indeed, to all visitors in search of health, pleasure, or the picturesque, who may be sojourning at Beaumaris. It is nearly a mile from the shore, to the edge of which it slopes in verdant turf on each side from its lofty central eminence. In shape it resembles a lemon, extending a mile in length and half a mile in breadth. Near the centre are the ruins of an old square tower, supposed to have been a portion of a religious house, once subordinate to the priory of Penmon; which, from “the odour of sanctity” thrown around it by popular tradition, attracted many devotees, and penitents, and dying persons, to its sacred shrine, either as the subjects of pilgrimage or prayer, or to obtain interment within its holy walls. Giraldus says, “the island was inhabited by hermits, living by manual labour and serving God.” The superior reputation which this monastery enjoyed, induced the Welsh princes, Llywelyn and David, and (after the conquest of the country) Edward the First, to grant to it the revenues of Penmon. Prince Owen Gwynedd, who lies buried here, was the founder; and its sanctuary became the refuge at once of the oppressor and the oppressed, in that lawless age to which it belonged. Little remains to attest the presence of the crowds of devout men that thronged it, or of the noble, the wealthy, or of the poor, that once were interred in its consecrated cemetery. A colony of rabbits has usurped their territory; and swarms of cormorants, stormy petrels, curlews, and puffin auks, and, even though but comparatively seldom seen, peregrine falcons hasten to these shores in the summer months, to breed and nurture their young. There is a small house on the island for the man who attends a signal staff erected here in 1826, to form part of the telegraphic communication between Liverpool and Holyhead.

A pleasant aquatic excursion may he made from Garth Point to Puffin Island, passing through the picturesque bay of Beaumaris, the distance being nine miles.

A melancholy interest attaches to this neighbourhood from a most calamitous event which occurred in the bay of Beaumaris, on the night of the 17th August, 1831. On the morning of that day, the Rothsay Castle steamer left the pier-head, Liverpool, for Beaumaris, the number of passengers and seamen being between 120 and 140 souls. After passing the floating light, stationed about 15 miles from Liverpool, the sea became very rough and the wind adverse; and some of the passengers, apprehensive of danger, in vain urged the captain, Lieutenant Atkinson, to return. Between the Great and Little Ormeshead the vessel was beating about for three hours, and soon after passing the latter, night had come on, the sea running high, and the tide ebbing. It was near twelve o’clock when she arrived at the mouth of the Menai Strait, about five miles from Beaumaris. When opposite the tower on Puffin Island, suddenly the steam got so low that the engine would not keep the vessel on her proper course; and she struck on what is called the spit of the Dutchman’s Bank, where she remained immovable till she went to pieces. At least one hundred persons are known to have perished, and twenty-one were ascertained to be saved.

A strict investigation into the causes of this dreadful calamity was subsequently instituted, from which it appeared that the vessel itself was unfit for the station; that there were no guns on board to make signals of distress; that the captain and mate were in a state of intoxication during the time of peril; that there had been great mismanagement and obstinacy on the part of the former, and criminal negligence in omitting to furnish the vessel with necessary apparatus for such an emergency. The most praiseworthy activity is ascribed to the gentry and other inhabitants of Beaumaris, as well as the boatmen belonging to the bay, in rescuing the surviving sufferers, and providing places of decent sepulture for the dead. On this subject, the following testimony, from the pen of Lieutenant Morrison, of the Royal Navy, who has published a Narrative of the unfortunate wreck, is truly valuable:—“The meritorious efforts made by Sir Richard Bulkeley, Bart. and other gentlemen of the neighbourhood, to insure respect to the remains of the unfortunate sufferers, I believe to have been attended with perfect success. Indeed, I saw numerous valuable and portable articles which had been saved, and lodged in the hands of the authorities of Beaumaris, and which might have been very readily abstracted by the finders, to whom they offered great temptation. I was never among the inhabitant of North Wales before, and I must observe that the very excellent conduct of the lower orders on this occasion forms a strong contrast to that I have witnessed on the coasts of Devonshire and the south of Ireland.”

The many accidents in this bay at length induced the corporation of the Trinity House to erect a lighthouse on the south-westerly point of the island, at a part called Trwyn-du, or Black Point, which was finished in the course of the summer of 1838. It is a splendid work of art in the bell form; and contains more courses of masonry under low-water mark than the celebrated Eddystone lighthouse. The light is thrown out to sea by means of a strong reflector erected on the opposite or Anglesea coast. It is worthy of attention, and visitors will find it a pleasant sail from Bangor and Beaumaris.

From April to October, first-class steam-packets regularly arrive from Liverpool every afternoon (except Sunday) about five o’clock at the Bangor Ferry inn (which has lately been much improved and enlarged), and return the next morning between eight and nine o’clock, calling each way at Garth Point and Beaumaris. And we may here add that this is the cheapest and most interesting marine excursion which can be enjoyed from Liverpool.

BEDDGELERT, (Caernarvonshire.)

Aber-glaslyn 1½

Caernarvon 13

Llanberis 12

Snowdon Summit 6

Tan-y-Bwlch 10

Tre-Madoc 7

Beddgelert, a village most charmingly situated in a beautiful tract of meadows, at the junction of three vales, near the conflux of the Gwynnant and the Colwyn.

The church is erected on the site of an ancient priory of Augustine monks, with which a convent for nuns was also incorporated. Part of the arches and clustered columns which supported the nave of the priory are still visible in the wall of the church, and there are other remains which prove the original religious establishment to have been of considerable extent. In 1194 it was endowed with lands by Llywelyn the Great; and it is recorded that in those days the prior had fifty cows and twenty-two sheep. In 1283 it suffered from fire, and Edward I. repaired the damages. In 1535 Henry VIII. bestowed it on the abbey of Chertsey, in Surrey; and in 1577 it was made appurtenant to that of Bisham, Berks.

Moel Hebog (the Hawk Hill) rises boldly from the vale in front of the village, which takes its name—Beddgelert, or the Grave of Gelert, from an affecting tradition, which has been made the subject of an admirably pathetic ballad by the Hon. W. R. Spencer. Miss Costello gives this romantic legend with her wonted taste and effect:—

“King John had given to Llywelyn the Great, not only his daughter Joanna in marriage, but as a prize little inferior, a fine greyhound, of superior breed and great beauty, who was wont to take the lead in all his expeditions, and to bring down the game in gallant style. The usual season of the chase arrived, and the prince, his wife, and children had repaired to the hunting-ground in this valley: one day Llywelyn set forth, and had not gone far when he discovered that Gelert, his favourite hound, had lagged behind; he called him in vain, and, out of temper and impatient, he continued his way, and occupied himself in his sport, still, however, dwelling with vexation on the absence of his constant companion. On his return, as he was about to enter his dwelling, he was met by Gelert, who leaped upon him and shewed every demonstration of delight. The prince angrily drove him off, and, as he did so, remarked that the jaws of the dog were covered with blood, that blood was on the floor and on the walls—a strange foreboding of evil stole over his mind: his infant son had been left in the cradle—no attendant was near—he tracked the crimson stairs—they led him to the spot where his child reposed—the cradle was overturned, the infant gone, and a pool of blood was at his feet.

“Llywelyn allowed himself not a moment’s time for reflection—Gelert was fawning beside the couch of his murdered child—his fangs were red with gore—he could not doubt but that the wretched animal had torn the sleeping babe, and drawing his sword, he plunged it into the body of the hound. At this instant he heard a cry—he darted forward, removed the confused heap before him, and, struggling beneath, he beheld his child uninjured, his tiny hands resting on the body of a gaunt wolf, which had been killed by Gelert in his defence.

“What was now left for Llywelyn but remorse and late repentance?—he erected a tomb over the remains of the faithful dog, and the spot is called ‘the Grave of Gelert’ to this day.

“There is a Welsh adage which alludes to this legend, ‘he repents as much as the man who killed the dog’—and this would naturally lead one to imagine that the sad tale were indeed true; nevertheless, the same is told in many places, and seems originally to have come from the far East, where almost all beautiful stories had their birth.

“It is said to be engraven on a rock in Limerick; it is told in an old English romance; it is repeated in France; and it is the subject of Persian drama!”

Some chroniclers assert, that Prince Llywelyn founded the church of Beddgelert to commemorate the preservation of his son, and as some atonement for slaying his preserver, the faithful hound.

In a field contiguous to the churchyard, is a large stone, which is said to mark the spot where Gelert was buried. Near the stone is a building, now used as a cow-house, which is reputed to have been the residence of the prince.

There is an excellent inn here, the Goat, recently enlarged and improved, not inferior in accommodation to any in Wales. The Caernarvon and Tan-y-Bwlch mail coach passes twice a day through the village. Behind the old public house opposite is an interesting view of a solemn dell. The eye, in surveying this chasm, is relieved now and then by spots of verdure, patches of heath, thinly-scattered sheep, and the beautiful curvature of the mountain. In the Welsh annals this region is styled the Forest of Snowdon. A guide to the many objects of interest in the locality may be procured at any time at the Goat inn. When Mr. Nicholson traversed this part of the country, the name of the guide was William Lloyd, who was also the village schoolmaster, and who thus explained his occupation in a placard stuck upon the door of the inn:—“William Lloyd, conductor to Snowdon, Moel Hebog, Dinas Emrys, Llanberis pass, the lakes, waterfalls, &c. &c.” The name of the present guide is Richard Edwards.

On the road towards Aber-glaslyn, a stone is pointed out by the name of the Chair of Rhŷs Gôch o’r ’Ryri, the famous mountain bard, contemporary with Owen Glyndwr. He was of the house of Havod-garegog, at the entrance into the Traeth Mawr sands, whence he used to walk, and sitting on this craggy seat, composed his poems. Among others is a satire on a fox, for killing his favourite peacock. He died about the year 1490, and was interred in the holy ground at Beddgelert, escaping the vengeance of the English, for inspiring his countrymen with the love of liberty, and animating them by his compositions into a long and gallant resistance to the galling yoke.

The neighbourhood of Beddgelert abounds with objects worthy of the tourist’s attention; and of several of these we will now add a few particulars.

Nant Gwynnant.

Turning to the right hand on crossing the bridge leading from the inn, you follow up the course of a stream that waters one of the most beautiful valleys in Wales. On the left, about half a mile up the valley, is a lofty wood-clad rock, called Dinas Emrys, the fort of Ambrosius, or Merlin Emrys, a magician who was sent for to this place from Caer Merddin (Carmarthenshire) by Vortigern, who was king of Britain from 449 to 466. It was to this place that Vortigern retired, when he found himself despised by his subjects, and unable to contend longer with the treacherous Saxons, whom he had introduced into his kingdom. It is probable that this insular rock afforded him a temporary residence, till be removed to his final retreat in Nant Gwrtheryn, or Vortigern’s Valley, not far from Nevyn, in the promontory of Lleyn. Speed says that Vortigern married his own child by Rowena, daughter of Hengist, the Saxon prince, and had by her one son.—On passing round the foot of another beautiful isolated rock,

Llyn Dinas

(The Pool of the Fort), a lake about a half to three-quarters of a mile in extent, is spread before you. It is entirely surrounded by lofty mountains, the tints of which being of a deeper and browner shade than the generality of Welsh hills, gives a peculiar richness to the confined valley. The road runs close along the shore, overhung by one of the magnificent buttresses of Snowdon: to the right the eye stretches across the lake to the hills which rise from the water’s edge, above which a second tier of mountains appears, the great chain which separates you from the vale of Ffestiniog. The river which feeds the lake winds through the verdant and undulating grounds which spread themselves, a miniature park, between the cottage and the lake. A romantic pass, affording space for the river and road only, leads to a valley totally different from, though not less beautiful than that of Llyn Dinas: the valley forms a bowl among the hills, the bottom is a small grassy plain, here and there dotted with trees, through which the river winds; the sides are magnificent mountains: it is beauty sleeping in the lap of terror.—On the left, the eye is led to

Cwm Llan,

among the deepest recesses of Snowdonia. The immediate boundary of the valley is succeeded by heights rising successively above each other. Immediately above this deep and gloomy gorge towers the monarch of hills, sublime and terrific in his precipitous height, yet presenting in its conical summit, its cairn and landmark, a graceful object, filling up the mountainous gap, the sides of which form a suitable frame to this noble picture. You follow up the course of the stream, through the same enchanting scenery, the road gradually ascending, till you catch through the plantations on the left a view of

Llyn Gwynnant,

stretched below at your feet. This lake and valley are deeply set among the loftiest mountains of Wales or England, and form one of the loveliest pictures in this country. Two or three gentlemen’s residences render this valley cheerful, without destroying its character of seclusion.

Shortly after leaving the lake, the most striking view of Snowdon presents itself; you look across the valley on a huge precipice, over the edge of which, through a wide sweeping dip in the hill, a very picturesque waterfall, Rhaiadr cum Dyli, is projected. Plain indications of its source,

Llyn Llydan,

a highly elevated mountain lake, are apparent; above this rises a dark perpendicular wall of rock, towards the summit of which craggy and sharp ridges run up, and at the junction the towering peak of Snowdon rises: shortly after, you join the road from Capel Curig to Llanberis. Let no inconvenience induce the tourist to relinquish this route.

In the vale of Colwyn, and nearly two miles from Beddgelert, is a small pool, about the size of a good horse-pond, called

Llyn-y-Dywarchen

(Or the Pool of the Sod), first celebrated by Giraldus Cambrensis, in the account of his journey through Wales in the twelfth century, as containing a floating island. This is still in existence, but not more than eight or nine yards in length, and evidently appears to be a detached piece of the turbery of which the bank is composed. There is a small willow-tree growing upon it, and it is carried to and fro by the action of the wind and water. Sometimes it remains near the side of the pool for a considerable while, and it is so large and firm as to bear cattle on it. When it has been dislodged by the wind, a few sheep have often been borne by it to the other parts of the bank.—Within two miles of Beddgelert is situated

Pont Aber-glaslyn

(Or the Bridge of the Conflux of the Blue Pool); it is also called by the inhabitants the Devil’s Bridge; on which account it has sometimes been confounded with the bridge of that name near Havod, in Cardiganshire. In approaching this spot from Beddgelert, the rocks on each side become incomparably grand. The road winds along a narrow stony vale, where the huge cliffs so nearly approach as only just to leave width sufficient at the bottom for the road, and the bed of the impetuous torrent that rolls along the side of it. Here these lofty rocks, which oppose nothing to the eye but a series of the rudest precipices, “raised tier on tier, high piled from earth to heaven,” seem to forbid all further access, and to frown defiance on the traveller.

The bridge crosses the Glaslyn, and unites the counties of Merioneth and Caernarvon. In the span it is thirty feet, and from the water to the parapet forty feet high. There is excellent fishing in this river; it abounds with salmon and trout. Some years ago, there was a noted salmon leap a few yards above the bridge, and in the course of an hour, twenty or thirty fish have been seen attempting to spring over the barrier, but it is now broken down and fallen into decay. The salmon come up the river in the latter end of the year, sometimes as early as the beginning of October, in order to deposit their spawn on the sandy shallows, and are here very plentiful. The fishery belongs to the Wynn family. When the tourist has passed the bridge, and proceeded about one hundred yards on the Tre-Madoc road, he will then see the view to perfection. The elegant and venerable arch clothed with ivy—the foam of the little waterfall almost beneath—the majestic rocks to the right, combining to form one of the finest pictures in Wales.

It was probably from this place that Giraldus Cambrensis asserted of Merionethshire, that “it was the roughest and most dreary part of Wales, for its mountains were both high and perpendicular, and in many places so grouped together, that shepherds talking or quarreling on their tops, could scarcely, in a whole day’s journey, come together.”

There is very good fishing in this neighbourhood, at a lake called Llyn-y-Dinas, about two miles from Beddgelert; the fish are good for the table, of the weight of about half a pound; however, trouts of five or six pounds weight have been taken. There are two boats kept by Robert Roberts; the flat-bottomed one is considered the better and safer for angling. Another lake appears, somewhat smaller, called Llyn Gwynnant, which has been injured by being netted, but still affords fair sport for the angler.

BETTWS-Y-COED, (Caernarvonshire.)

Capel Curig 5

Cerniogau Mawr 9½

Llanrwst 4

Bettws-y-Coed (or Station in the Wood), a small village, pleasantly situated on the Shrewsbury and Holyhead road, not far distant from the junction of the Llugwy and the Conway. The church stands in a little cemetery in the centre of the vale, enclosed by a few stately forest trees, and forms a venerable and interesting object. It contains an old monument in memory of Griffith, the son of David Gôch, who was a natural son of David, brother to Llywelyn, the last prince of Wales. He died in the fourteenth century, and is here represented by a large armed recumbent figure in a recess in the north wall. On one side of the figure, there is yet left this inscription,—“Hic jacet Gruffydd ap Davyd Gôch: Agnus Dei, misere mei.” Within a mile distant is a bridge, consisting of a single arch of iron, of 105 feet in the span, and called the Waterloo Bridge from the circumstance of its having been erected in the same year in which the battle of Waterloo was fought. It carries the Holyhead road over the Conway.

Near Bettws-y-Coed is also Pont-y-Pair, a most singular bridge, flung over the Llugwy, consisting of four arches, placed on the rude rocks, which form most durable piers. These rocks are precipitous, and in high floods exhibit to the passenger most awful cataracts below the bridge. The scenery beyond, composed of rocky mountains fringed with woods, is very striking. The river Conway affords good salmon and trout fishing. The remarkably picturesque character of this district is particularly attractive to artists who delight to make sketches from scenes of natural beauty and grandeur.

CADER IDRIS, (Merionethshire.)

Dolgelley 5

Dinas Mowddwy 11

Machynlleth 13

Towyn 15

These distances are computed from the summit of Cader Idris.

The mountain of Cader Idris, in height the second in Wales, rises upon the sea-shore, close upon the northern side of the estuary of the small river Disynwy, about a mile from Towyn. It proceeds with almost a constant ascent, first northward for about three miles, then for ten miles further runs E. N. E., giving out from its summit a branch nearly three miles long in a south-westerly direction, parallel to the main ridge. It is very steep and craggy on every side, but the southern descent, especially to the border of Tal-y-llyn lake, is the most precipitous, being nearly perpendicular. Its breadth bears but a small proportion to its length, a line passing along its base, and intersecting the summit, would scarcely equal four miles and a half; and in the other parts it is a mere ridge, whose base hardly ever exceeds one mile in breadth.

Cader Idris is the beginning of a chain of primitive mountains, extending in a N. N. E. direction, and including the Arrans and Arrenigs. It is much loftier and more craggy than the slate and secondary mountains which surround it. Dolgelley is the place from which the ascent to this mountain is usually made.

Several tourists of literary eminence have made the ascent of Cader Idris, and have left on record graphic and animated descriptions of the sublime views which its summit discloses. Mr. Roscoe says—“The following morning promising a fine day, I determined upon making an excursion over Cader Idris. This mountain is one of the most lofty in Wales, and forms a part of the great chain of hills which runs nearly parallel with the coast for many miles, in connection with the Arrans and the Arrenigs, and more inland, towards Corwen, with the Berwyn range. Proceeding over the hill which leads to Towyn, I reached a small lake, and turning to the left, commenced the ascent. After great labour for three or four hours, and consequent fatigue, I reached the summit; and the pool Llyn-y-Cae shewed itself, situated among high rocks, whose weather-beaten cliffs overhang the water; but thick mists, wafted from the sea, prevented an extended view. Mr. Aikin has enriched his narrative with a description of this grand and picturesque scene he witnessed, the following extract from which leaves nothing to be desired:—‘We were now above all the eminences within a vast expanse, and as the clouds gradually cleared away, caught some grand views of the surrounding country. The huge rocks which we before looked up to with astonishment, were now far below our feet, and many a small lake appeared in the valleys between them. To the north, Snowdon and its dependencies shut up the scene; on the west, we saw the whole curve of the bay of Cardigan, bounded at a great distance by the Caernarvon mountains, and nearer, dashing its white breakers against the rocky coast of Merioneth. The southern horizon was bounded by Plinlimmon, the bay of Swansea, the channel, peeping through the opening of the Brecon mountains; and on the east, the eye glanced over the lake of Bala, the two Arrenig mountains, the two Arrans, and the long chain of Berwyn mountains, to the Breiddin hills on the confines of Shropshire. Dimly, in the distant horizon, was beheld the Wrekin, rising alone from the plain of Salop.’

“At the foot of the mountain is the little village of Tal-y-Llyn, which borrows its name from the church at the head of the lake, not unmeetly denominated by the people ‘the Charming Retreat.’ The church, a simple antique building, is dedicated to St. Mary. The parish extends about eight miles, embracing in its circuit a large portion of the mountainous chain. The whole vicinity, wood, and hill, and lake—stirred by the winds, or clothed with the yellow hues of autumn—wore a highly picturesque yet dreary aspect; and I took great delight in exploring a number of bold, romantic streams and falls, all within the limits of this interesting district. Tal-y-Llyn (the Head of the Lake), with its little church, dedicated to St. Mary, stands at the west end of the pool, in a long valley lying below the lofty ranges of Cader Idris. Looking north-east, the vale is contracted by the mountain bases, with their sides broken into a thousand crags, some sharp and conical, and others overhanging, as if ready to fall upon the heedless traveller, who wends his way beneath their shadows. Pen-y-Delyn (or the Harp Rock) is there, bearing a resemblance in its figure to that instrument, with its indented and perforated summit, ready to receive the first breath of the morning, and to herald the rising beam of the great luminary with the fabled music of Memnon; and Llam-y-Ladron too, (or the Thieves’ Leap), the Tarpeian Rock from whose fearful top, it is said, the ancient Britons used to cast their felon brethren.”

Of the heights of Cader Idris, of Arran Vowddwy, and of the Arrenig Vawr, says Mr. Pennant, I am enabled to give a very exact account, by the assistance of the ingenious Mr. M. Hughes, of Bala, who assures me that the Pen-y-Gader is 2858 feet above the level of Dolgelley-green; Arran-Vowddwy, 740 above Llyntegid; and the Arrenig, only 20 yards short of Arran; that the fall from the lake to Dolgelley-green, is 180 yards; so that the real difference of height between the Cader and the Arran is only thirty yards. Two graves, where human bodies were deposited, have lately been discovered at the foot of Cader Idris, under two immense carnedds.

Within the last few years, for the accommodation of visitors, a cottage has been erected on the summit of the mountain, by Richard Pugh, who resides at Dolgelley, and who acts in the capacity of a guide. This has proved of great advantage to visitors, who were not unfrequently assailed by the teeming shower, without an opportunity of shelter; and who had no spot for temporary refreshment while waiting for the dispersion of misty clouds in order to enjoy the exquisite prospect. Here parties or individuals may have all convenient refreshments. The road up the mountain on the Dolgelley side has lately been much improved, so as to enable ladies and gentlemen to ride up to the very top with the greatest ease and safety, which cannot be done on the other side of the mountain without great danger. The charge of the guide for conducting a party to the summit is five shillings, and the same sum is paid for each of the ponies employed in the ascent.

For angling stations, see Dolgelley and Tal-y-Llyn.

CAERGWRLE, (Flintshire.)

Chester 12

Hawarden 6

Mold 6

Wrexham 5

Caergwrle was once a flourishing town, but has dwindled into an insignificant village. Its parish church is about a mile distant. There is good reason for believing that Caergwrle was a Roman station, probably an outpost to Deva. Camden discovered here an hypocaust, hewn out of the solid rock, six yards and a quarter long, five yards broad, and somewhat more than half a yard in height. On some of the tiles were inscribed the letters, “Legio xx.” which seem to denote the founders. This is further corroborated by the name of the place, “Caer gawr lleng,” (the camp of the great legion), Cawr lleng being the name by which the Britons distinguished the twentieth legion.

The castle stood on the summit of a high rock. Its present remains are very inconsiderable; they are, however, sufficient to indicate that it never could have been a fortress of any great importance.

Hope, [73] or Queen’s Hope,

Is an inconsiderable village, little more than a mile from Caergwrle; it also has the remains of a castle, at which Eleanor, queen of Edward the First, made some stay on her way to Caernarvon.—Within a short distance are the mansions of Bryn Yorkyn and Plâs Têg. Caergwrle and Hope, in conjunction with Flint, Caerwys, Rhuddlan, Overton, and Holywell, send a member to Parliament.

Angling station:—the river Alun.

CAERNARVON.

Bangor 9

Beaumaris 14

Beddgelert 13

Capel Curig 17

Dolbadarn Castle 10

Ffestiniog 25

Llanberis 8

London by Chester 254

— by Shrewsbury 236

Pwllheli 20

Tan-y-Bwlch 23

Tre-Madoc 20

Caernarvon is the capital of the county, and is one of the largest and best towns in North Wales. It name is properly Caer yn Arvon, which signifies a walled town in the district opposite to Anglesea. Ar Vôn or Ar Môn implies opposite to Mona.

“Caernarvon (we adopt the interesting and elegant description of Mr. Roscoe,) is built on a peninsula, formed by the Menai on the west and north sides, and by the Seiont on the south. It was formerly enclosed by walls, defended by a chain of round towers, which on three sides are still nearly entire. In former times there were but two gates through which the inhabitants passed, but other openings have been more recently made to form communications with the suburbs, which are rapidly extending. The town-hall is over one of the ancient gates of the town.

A terrace, extending from the quay to the north end of the walls, offers a delightful promenade, and presents a variety of interesting objects around the port, which is daily rising into greater importance by receiving and dispensing the fruits of industry and commerce. This terrace, Mr. Bransby observes, possesses the powerful recommendation of being always clean, and of soon becoming dry after heavy and continued rain. From this walk to behold the sun on a calm summer evening, as he goes down ‘in a paradise of clouds’ behind the Anglesea hills, is to witness one of the most lovely and glorious spectacles in nature. On an eminence called the Twt-hill, near the Uxbridge Arms Hotel, is a most extensive and varied panoramic view, including part of the Snowdonian range,—the isle of Anglesea, with its plains, farms, and villas, backed by the mountains of Holyhead and Parys,—the swelling Menai,—and the blue and spacious bay, with the sea stretching far beyond.

The harbour and the pier have both undergone very great improvement, and ships of considerable burthen can now come up alongside the quay. An extensive trade is carried on with Liverpool, Dublin, Bristol, Swansea, &c., besides a lucrative coast trade, exchanging the invaluable mineral substances of this part of the Principality for timber and other articles. Slates are brought here as to the general depôt from the quarries about Llanberis and Llanllyfni; and the country people of all ranks resort hither, as the best and cheapest market, from a considerable distance.

The market-house, erected by the corporation, the Uxbridge Arms Hotel, by the Marquis of Anglesea, a number of excellent inns, among which stand foremost the Goat Hotel and the Sportsman, with hot and cold baths, and a billiard-room, render the modern town as pleasant and commodious a place of residence as the most fastidious nabob,—to say nothing of hardy Welshmen and pedestrian ramblers,—could possibly desire.

Caernarvon is resorted to as a bathing place, and by invalids seeking health and amusement, for a temporary residence. There are here the advantages of a genteel neighbourhood as well as salubrious air; and the rambler in quest of romantic scenery frequently makes this town his head quarters. Besides many pleasant walks and rides in the immediate vicinity, within the circle of a dozen miles are the Menai Straits as far as Bangor, Llanberis, Snowdon, Plâs Newydd, and Beddgelert, offering not only inducements to those in search of the picturesque, but affording a source of continued gratification to the botanist, mineralogist, and antiquary.

The parish church of Caernarvon is at Llanbeblig, and stands in its loneliness at the distance of half a mile to the south-east of the castle wall. It is a structure of great antiquity, and contains the altar-tomb of Sir William Gruffydd (a member of the Penrhyn family) and Margaret, his wife. The knight mailed in armour, and the lady in the full dress of the age, are sculptured in white marble, and lie side by side. English service is performed at a chapel of ease at Caernarvon, close to the castle; but in this venerable little place the service is conducted in Welsh. The churchyard exhibits the peculiarities which give a touching interest to some of the burying places of the Principality. Flowers of all colours, but especially snowdrops, violets, and pale primroses, display their beauty and expend their perfume on the graves of children, and maidens ‘that die unmarried,’ while branches of the box, arbutus, and laurel, with shrubs of a firm and sombre hue, mark the resting places of the more matured in this ‘City of the Silent.’

For its ample and magnificent feudal structure,—almost terrible to the eye,—Caernarvon is indebted to the first Edward, who raised this colossal castle—as if in derision of the poor tenure of all sovereign power—near the ruins of the great Roman station. Soon after his conquest, Edward began the stupendous pile, which served less to overawe the Welsh than for a magnificent ruin and a modern wonder. The remains of Segontium furnished part of the materials, bright grey limestone, of exceeding durability, was brought from Twr Celyn, in Anglesea, and grit-stone, for the windows and arches, from Vaenol, between Caernarvon and Bangor.

Vast, irregular, and more shattered than its exterior grandeur would lead us to suppose, this giant-fortress stretches far along the west of the town, its broad spreading walls being surmounted, at intervals, with octagonal towers. The extent of the courts, the gateways, and the towers, bear equal witness to those noble proportions which astonish the modern architect, as from its Eagle-turrets he commands the whole of its magnificent area, and the wide sweeping circuit of its walls.

Opposite the massive Eagle tower, in which the unfortunate Edward the Second was born, is the Queen’s Gate, [76] which had two portcullises that communicated with a drawbridge across the moat. Over the embattled parapet are seen the turrets rising majestically above the solitary ruins, bounded on two sides by the water; the third bears traces of a large ditch; on the north-east side is a deep well, nearly filled up, with a round tower contiguous to it, apparently the ancient dungeon. The exterior, and especially the main entrance, has an air of forlorn grandeur, blended with massy strength, which must at all times excite admiration and awe in the beholder. The area within is irregularly oblong, and was divided into an outer and inner court. The external walls of the castle, enclosing an area of great extent, are nearly as perfect as when they were built, and of considerable height and thickness.

The state apartments appear to have been spacious, commodious, and handsomely ornamented; the windows wide, and enriched with elegant tracery. The form is polygonal, though the exterior of the edifice presents a complete square. The floors and staircases are considerably injured—in many places wholly demolished. A gallery extended round the entire fortress, to serve as a means of communication in times of danger, and during a siege. It lay close to the outer walls, and was provided with narrow slips, adapted for stations, from which to annoy an enemy with arrows or other missiles as occasion might require. But its time-worn and ivy-covered bulwarks are now fast yielding, like the interior, to the assaults of time. Some years ago the Eagle tower, struck by lightning, was split down several yards from the summit, giving it still more the aspect of a splendid ruin.

It was evening, as I before said, when I first caught sight of the castle. The sun’s disk had sunk below the horizon, but his refracted rays still played upon that imaginary line ‘which parts the day and night,’ casting an attenuated melancholy grace over the crumbling fortress. I lingered amongst those ruins till the last vestige of light was withdrawn, except such as is bestowed by a clear blue firmament emblazoned with burning stars. As I gazed, the phantoms of history passed rapidly before my mental eye, with an order and truth like unto the facts treasured in her pages, and with a realizing illusion that converted me into an actual spectator of the scenes. From the topmost point of the Eagle Tower a prophetic voice seemed to issue, dispelling the delusion that in those days clung to the hearts of the stricken Cambrians, that their own-loved Arthur would again appear to raise up their fast-falling nation to its former glory. I saw the stern conqueror buckling on his armour, after the Easter festival, resolute to conquer or exterminate the defenders of that ancient land. I heard the wailing of that dark and stormy night of Palm Sunday, when the strong hold of Hawarden fell before his victorious sword. I tracked the line of march his countless legions took through the deep forest, reaching, in ancient times, from the confines of Cheshire to the mountains of Snowdon, leaving Flint and Rhuddlan still frowning in their perilled rear; and I looked upon the picture of that onslaught at the bridge of Moel-y-don, when an English knight was seen buffeting the waves of Menai, and alone escaped to tell the tale of national vengeance. The panorama shifted, and another pictured page discovered that gallant prince, the last of his race who held the sceptre of the Cymri, slowly retreating before his haughty foe into the mountain holds hard by,—dispirited, though not despairing,—cursed by the priest whom Edward brought to curse him,—deluded by the soothsayer, whose prophecy bore ‘a double sense,’ too fatally fulfilled in his own person,—deserted by many of his friends, and his affianced wife basely held a captive in the hands of his enemy. The scene then moved; the undaunted hero still struggled with his fate, once the sovereign of the whole land, now only lord of the five baronies of Snowdon,—goaded by the insults of his mean conqueror,—maddened into open war,—betrayed by his base confederate lords,—and perishing alone and defenceless in the solitary recesses of a wood. Such was the strange eventful story; and that castle which marked the triumph of the conqueror, and the subjection of the people—which heard the infant cries of the first English prince of this cheated land—which opened wide at midnight its gates to troops of warrior-knights belonging to an alien country—which rung again and again with the rude revelry of that barbarous age, when the pageant and tournament of Nefyn was ended,—and which in the days of its strength, passed into the hands of foes, and friends, and fratricides,—that castle in its gaunt ruins, yet remained as the monument of these records, and the tomb in which past ages silently slept.”

A rail-road has lately been formed from Llanllyfni to Caernarvon, a distance of more than nine miles, for the purpose of conveying the copper ore and slates to the quay.

A most interesting part of the Menai Straits is connected with Caernarvon. Tourists may enjoy boating in perfection, either on the Tal-y-Foel ferry, the new ferry at Barris, to which a good road has recently been made, through the lands of the Marquis of Anglesea, by his free permission; or to Aber-mania, at the mouth or gap of the straits, and then to Llanddwyn, where are the remains of an old abbey. On the opposite side the gap to Aber-mania is St. David’s Fort, a marine residence of Lord Newborough, well worth a visit, and where the domestics shew the greatest civility. A few miles to the northward, on the east coast of Caernarvon bay, is Dinas Dinlle, an old Roman station of artificial formation.

Caernarvon is remarkable for having been the first town in the principality that enjoyed the privilege of a royal charter, which was granted by Edward the First. The government of the place was rested in a mayor (who is always constable of the castle), two bailiffs, a recorder, burgesses, &c. before the passing of the municipal reform act; now it is under the provisions of that act. In conjunction with the boroughs of Conway, Criccieth. Nevin, Pwllheli, and Bangor, Caernarvon returns a member to parliament. The member in the present parliament is W. B. Hughes, Esq.

There are two banks, viz. Messrs. Williams & Co. commonly known as the old bank, and which is in connection with the banks of the same firm at Chester and Bangor; and a branch of the North and South Wales bank. Coaches pass several times each day between this place and Bangor, and the mail leaves every morning for Pwllheli through Clynog; and for Barmouth, through Beddgelert, Tremadoc, Tan-y-bwlch, and Harlech.

Caernarvon castle is now undergoing considerable repairs, under the authority of the Commissioners of Woods and Forests.

It is more than probable, that the town of Caernarvon had its origin in the Roman city of Segontium, about half a mile distant, and that it is not, as many have supposed, indebted for its name to Edward the First; for the fort in Arvon, or in the hundred opposite to Anglesea, as the name indicates, would apply with equal propriety to the ancient city as to this more modern fortress. The town, however, there is no doubt, was the creation of Edward, and it was most probably formed from the ruins of the old station. The site of the ancient city of Segontium lies about half a mile south of Caernarvon, the ancient Roman station mentioned in the Itinerary of Antonius. This appears to have been the principal station that the Romans had in North Wales, all the rest being only subordinate stations. It received its name from the river Seiont, which rises in the lower lake of Llanberis, passes under the walls, and discharges itself into the Menai near Caernarvon castle. Its form was an oblong; and it appears originally to have occupied about six acres of ground. Not far hence was the fort which belonged to it: this was also of an oblong figure, and stood upon about an acre of ground. The walls are at present about eleven feet high, and six in thickness, and at each corner there has formerly been a tower. A chapel, said to be founded by Helen, daughter of Octavius, Duke of Cornwall, and a well which bears her name, are amongst the ruins still pointed out. The chapel was standing little more than a century ago. The old Roman road from the station of Dinas Dinorwic, in Llanddeiniolen, to Dinas Dinlle, on the shore of Caernarvon bay, lay through Caernarvon. Both stations are worth the attention of the antiquary.

CAERWYS, (Flintshire.)

Chester 23

Denbigh 7½

Holywell 6

London 212

Mold 12

St. Asaph 7

Caerwys, formerly a market town, with the parish of the same name, contains about 1000 inhabitants, being situated on the high road leading from Holywell to Denbigh, through the beautiful Vale of Clwyd. Caerwys has the most considerable fairs for cattle, sheep, pigs, and horses, in all the country, though its markets have long since failed. The market-house still remains, but it has been converted, time out of mind, into a dwelling-house. It is close to the cross; to the S. W. the arches are yet plainly to be seen, though filled up; and the remains of an erect south dial are yet distinctly to be seen in the south wall.

A few hundred yards to the west, is a most beautiful dingle, known by the name of Maesmynan Wort, offering a pleasant ramble to the admirer of nature and the botanist. Near the place where the brook, which runs through this dingle by Maesmynan House, empties itself into the Wheeler, was formerly the residence of Llywelyn ab Gruffydd, the last native prince of Wales: a cottage, now called Pandy, shews the place where the prince resided.

Among the towns of the Principality, this was formerly a place of great renown, but its glory has faded away, and nought remains to evince its ancient consequence but its name. This is a compound of the two words, Caer, a city, and gwŷs, a summons, notifying its having been a place of judicature. The assizes for the county were held in the town of Caerwys till about the middle of the seventeenth century, when they were removed to Flint; the goal is yet remaining, though converted into a dwelling-house, called Yr hên Gaol. This still continues to be one of the contributory boroughs for the return of a member to parliament. Mr. Pennant, upwards of fifty years ago, describes Caerwys as a “town mouldering away with age.” The chief boast of this town was its being the olympia of North Wales, the theatre where the British bards poured forth their extemporaneous effusions,

“In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn;”

and where the honoured minstrels awakened

“Their harps to soul-enchanting melody, And gave to rapture all their trembling strings.”

Here were held the ancient Eisteddvodau, or congresses of bards and minstrels, where judges presided, appointed by special commission from the Princes of Wales previous to the conquest, and from the Kings of England after that event. These arbiters were bound to pronounce justly and impartially on the talents of the respective candidates, and grant degrees according to merit. The bards were formed into a college, the members of which had particular privileges to be enjoyed by none but such as were admitted to their degrees, and licensed by the judges. The last commission granted by royal authority for holding this court of Apollo seems to have been in the 9th of Elizabeth, when Sir Richard Bulkeley, knt. and certain other persons were empowered to make proclamation in the towns of North Wales, that all persons intending to follow the profession of bards, &c. should appear before them at Caerwys on a certain day, in order to give proofs of their talents in the science of music, and to receive licenses to practise the same. The meeting was numerous, and fifty-five persons were admitted to their degrees. From this period, these meetings were discontinued at Caerwys and throughout the Principality: the minstrel ceased to be considered a venerable character in England, and our monarchs looked, probably, with equal contempt on the bards of Wales. Thus neglected and despised, the Eisteddvodau dwindled to nothing, and reposed in oblivion for many years.

Towards the close of the last century, some spirited Welsh gentlemen, who had the honour of their national harmony and literature at heart, determined to revive a meeting likely to preserve and encourage that music and language, the excellence of which has for ages been enthusiastically admired by their countrymen. In the spring of 1798, their resolution was carried into effect; and an Eisteddvod was held at Caerwys, the ancient place of meeting. Since this period, Eisteddvodau have been frequent in different parts of the Principality.