LLANELIAN
is about two miles east of Amlwch, near the coast: Mr. Bingley’s account of which, and the superstitious ceremonies still attaching to it, is both curious and entertaining:
“The church is by no means an inelegant structure; and adjoining to it is a small chapel of very ancient foundation, that measures in its interior twelve feet by fifteen, called Myfyr, the confessional. A curious closet of wood, of an hexagonal form, called St. Elian’s closet, is yet left in the east wall; and is supposed to have served both the office of communion table, and as a chest to contain the vestments and other utensils belonging to the chapel. There is a hole in the wall of the chapel, through which the priests are supposed to have received confessions: the people believe this hole to have been used in returning oracular answers to persons who made inquiries of the saint respecting future events. Near the door is placed Cyff Elian, Elian’s chest, or poor-box. People out of health, even to this day, send their offering to the saint, which they put through a hole into the box. A silver groat, though not a very common coin, is said to be a present peculiarly acceptable, and has been known to procure his intercession, when all other kinds of coin have failed! The sum thus deposited, which in the course of a year frequently amounts to several pounds, the churchwardens annually divide among the poor of the parish.
“The wakes of Llanelian were formerly held on the three first Friday evenings in August; but they are now confined to only one of those days. Young persons from all parts of the adjacent country, and even from distant counties, assemble here; most of whom have along with them some offering for the saint, to ensure their future prosperity, palliate their offences, and secure blessings on their families, their cattle, and corn.
“The misguided devotees assemble about the chapel, and having deposited their offerings, many of them proceed to search into their future destiny in a very singular manner, by means of the wooden closet. Persons of both sexes, of all ages and sizes, enter the small door-way, and if they can succeed in turning themselves round within the narrow limits of the place, (which measures only betwixt three and four feet in height, about four feet across the back, and eighteen inches in width,) they believe that they shall be fortunate till at least the ensuing wake; but if they do not succeed in this difficult undertaking, they esteem it an omen of ill fortune, or of their death within the year. I have been told, that it is curious enough to see a stout lusty fellow, weighing perhaps sixteen or eighteen stone, striving to creep into these narrow confines, with as much confidence of success as a stripling a yard high; and when he fails in the attempt, to see him fuming and fretting, because his body, which contains in solid bulk more than the place could hold, were it crammed into all corners, cannot be got in. But when we consider that superstition and enthusiasm have generally little to do with reason, we must not wonder at this addition to the heap of incongruities that all ages have afforded us.
“Llanelian was formerly a sanctuary, or place of refuge for criminals. In digging a grave in the churchyard, about sixteen years ago, a deep trench was discovered, which extended about twenty yards in a transverse direction across. It was found to contain a great quantity of human bones; and is supposed to have been the place of interment of a number of sailors, who perished in a storm that drove them upon this coast.”
AMLWCH,
or the Winding Loch, is a dirty-looking straggling town, founded on rocks. It owes its support chiefly to the copper works in its vicinity. The church is a neat modern structure, dedicated to Elaeth, a British saint: the port, which is but small, is notwithstanding excellently adapted for the trade which is carried on; it is narrow, capable of only containing two vessels abreast, of about 200 tons burthen each, and of these it will furnish room for about thirty; the entrance is by a chasm between two rocks.
The Parys Mountain, like the works at Merthyr, shews what the industry of man is capable of accomplishing in removing rocks, mountains, and dragging forth the bowels of the earth. To those who possess good nerves, the view of this scene of wealth and industry will afford gratification unalloyed; but to those not so blessed, the horrific situations in which the principal actors of the scene are placed, poised in air, exposed to the blasting of the rocks, and the falling of materials, which themselves are sending aloft, or from those which may be misdirected, as ascending from the workings of others, by striking against projecting crags, seem to threaten death in so many varied shapes, that the wonder and admiration excited by the place are lost in pity and anxiety for the hardy miners.
From the top of the mountain the dreadful yawning chasm, with the numerous stages erected over the edge of the precipice, appal rather than gratify the observer. To see the mine to advantage, you must descend to the bottom, and be provided with a guide, to enable you to shun the danger, that would be considerable, from the blasts and falling materials; the workmen generally not being able to see those that their operations may endanger.
The Mona mine is the entire property of the Marquis of Anglesea. The Parys mine is shared.
The mountain has been worked with varied success for about sixty-five years: it is now believed to be under the average; but whether that arises from the low price of the article, or the mine being exhausted, I am unable to say: for a considerable period it produced 20,000 tons annually. One bed of ore was upwards of sixty feet in thickness. In the blasting the rock, to procure the ore, from six to eight tons of gunpowder are yearly consumed.
“This celebrated mountain,” says Mr. Evans, “is easily distinguished from the rest; for it is perfectly barren from the summit to the plain below: not a single shrub, and hardly a blade of grass, being able to live in its sulphurous atmosphere.
“No grassy mantle hides the sable hills,
No flowery chaplet crowns the trickling rills;
Nor tufted moss, nor leathery lichen creeps
In russet tapestry, o’er the crumbling steeps.”Darwin.
From hence we proceeded to