PENRHYN CASTLE,
the mansion of George Hay Dawkins Pennant, Esq. which is delightfully situated on a wooded eminence, between the estuaries of the Cegin and the Ogwen, about two miles east of the city of Bangor. It commands a fine view of the bay and town of Beaumaris to the north; the great Ormes Head, and Penmaen-mawr terminate the prospect on the east; and towards the south, the scene is closed by a bold and romantic range of mountains.
A short distance west of the Castle is Port Penrhyn, where the slates are brought down from Mr. Pennant’s quarry, and shipped in immense quantities to various parts of the world. It is easy of access, perfectly sheltered, and capable of accommodating trading vessels of upwards of 300 tons burthen.
It is but justice to the successor of the late Lord Penrhyn to say, that along with the estate, he appears to inherit the same spirit for improvement. The recent extension of the quay at Port Penrhyn, is one of the many instances which might be recited; by it, accommodation has been given to about fifty sail of traders, in addition to the former shipping-place, making the total length of the quay upwards of three hundred yards. A neat stone bridge over the river Cegin, which runs in at the head of the port, forms a complete connexion between the quay, the limeworks, the sea-shore, and the city.
Penrhyn Castle possesses a great curiosity; and Mr. Evans’s account of it, in his Topography, being both judicious and entertaining, I subjoin it. It is the Hirlas or drinking-horn of Piers Gryffydd, which is perhaps the only elegant specimen of that kind of utensil elucidatory of ancient manners.
“It is a large bugle horn of an ox, 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. In the royal court of Cambria, there were legally three sorts of horns, for the purpose of private or public libations. The first was y corn ydd yfo 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. Each of these was to be of the reputed value of one pound. On grand occurrences, 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 of York, is said to have quaffed off the sparkling contents of such a vessel, drinking a health, “Deo et Sancto Petro,” to God and St. Peter. On festive days, the imperious custom was to empty the horn at one tip, and instantly blow it, as a testimony that no dereliction of draught had occurred.
“Fill the horn with foaming liquor,
Fill it up, my boy, be quicker;
Hence away despair and sorrow,
Time enough to sigh to-morrow.
Let the brimming goblet smile,
And Ednyfed’s cares beguile.
Gallant youth, unus’d to fear,
Master of the broken spear;
And the arrow-pierced shield,
Brought with honour from the field.
Like a hurricane is he
Bursting on the troubled sea.
See their spears distain’d with gore,
Hear the din of battle roar,
Bucklers, swords, together clashing,
Sparkles from their helmets flashing,
Hear ye not their loud alarms?
Hark! they shout—to arms! to arms!
Thus were Garthen’s plains defended,
Melor fight, began and ended:
There two princes fought: and there
Was Mowrach Vowran’s feast exchang’d for rout and fear.” [224]
The rail-road and inclined planes formed by the late Lord Penrhyn, to reduce the labour and risk of bringing down the slates to the port, with numerous other improvements, are estimated to have cost his lordship one hundred and seventy thousand pounds.
The much-admired church of Llandegai is a neat Gothic edifice, which has recently been greatly improved and beautified; the late Lady Penrhyn having left a noble bequest for that purpose. “The whole interior has been renewed, viz. the seats, pulpit, communion, ceiling, plaistering, and floor, and the tower raised, in order to admit a peal of six bells: a legacy for which has been also left by Lady Penrhyn, as well as one for the erection of a monument to her deceased lord, which is now fixed up in the church, and is a most superb and elegant piece of work.”—Williams.
It is made of statuary marble, and represents two large figures; the one is a female peasant girl weeping over the loss of her deceased lord and lady; the other a quarryman, with an iron bar and slate knife in his hand, earnestly regarding the inscription, which commemorates his benefactors. Besides these, the following four smaller figures strongly depict the wonderful changes effected on the face of the country, and on the morals, habits, and comforts of its inhabitants, by the noble and spirited exertions of the late Lord Penrhyn.
The first is a boy, with two reeds in his mouth, feeding his goats on the mountains, being an emblem of this country, on its appearance to Lord Penrhyn when it was in a very rough state. 2nd, Two boys working in the slate quarry; being an emblem of industry. 3rd, One boy teaching another; being an emblem of religion. 4th, Three boys standing in a wheat field, bearing their sickles; being an emblem or representation of plenty. Here likewise are interred the remains of the celebrated Archbishop Williams; who is represented in his robes, in a kneeling position, on a mural monument.
Mr. Pennant’s slate quarry is about six miles from Bangor, on the road to Capel-Curig, and Cerniogi-Mawr. St. Ann’s Chapel, near the quarries, was erected and liberally endowed by the late Lord Penrhyn; and Lady Penrhyn left a sum of money for an organ, and a suitable stipend for the organist.
The traveller is greatly indebted to the present Mr. Pennant, as well as to the late Lord Penrhyn, for the very great and comfortable accommodation he now derives from their exertions on this line of road. The inn at Capel-Curig is now large and convenient; in addition to which, and to save time, Mr. Pennant has caused to be erected a cottage and stables, to enable parties in haste, as well as the mail and coaches, to change horses without going down to the inn.
Near the slate quarry is the pretty cottage of the late Lady Penrhyn, called Ogwen Bank. It is a perfect paradise, arising out of chaos; the style is the florid Gothic, and shews great taste in the designer. The centre contains an elegant room, the front of it forming the segment of a circle; the wings contain coach-houses and stabling. Over the river Ogwen, in a rough and picturesque part of it, is a bridge corresponding with the house. All visitors to the house are requested to sign their names in a book kept for that purpose. This beautiful cottage is hid from the road by the trees and plantations.
Having satisfied ourselves with the view of this charming retreat, we proceeded to a comfortable inn, called Tynymaes, (now a post-house, with good stables,) and partook of some refreshment, prior to a more full investigation of the horrors and beauties of the vale of Beavers, or Nant Ffrancon; for in this once solitary and dreadful glen, those useful and astonishingly ingenious animals were once found, whose skins were then valued at 120 pence. The awful grandeur of the surrounding barren rugged rocks are finely contrasted by the rich verdant bottom of the glen, and the thick foliage and luxuriant plantations of Ogwen Bank. Descending from the road into a hollow, we had a fine view of the cataracts of Benlog; down which the waters of five lakes rush into the pool beneath; the lower fall of the three, which is the largest, is seen to the greatest advantage by climbing a rugged rock. “Here,” says Mr. Bingley, “the stream roared with vast fury, and in one sheet of foam, down an unbroken and almost perpendicular rock. The sun shone directly upon it, and a prismatic bow was beautifully formed by the spray. The tremendous roar of the water, and the broken and uncouth disposition of the immediately surrounding rocks, added greatly to the interest of the scene. After a while I climbed a rocky steep to the second or middle fall. Here the river is precipitated, in a fine stream, through a chasm between two perpendicular rocks that each rise several yards above. From the station I took, the immense mountain Trivain was seen to fill up the wide space at the top; heightened greatly in effect by a dark aërial tint arising from the extreme heat of the day, and the lowering clouds that were floating around. The masses of black rocks, surrounded by foam, near the top of the fall, I could have fancied were floating along the torrent, and rushing to the bottom. The stream widens as it descends, and below passes over a slanting rock, which gives it somewhat of a different direction. In the foreground was the rugged bed of the stream, and the water was seen to dash in various directions among the broken masses of rock. The third cataract, to which I now clambered, I found very grand and majestic, yet by no means equal to either of the former. These waterfalls are scarcely known in the adjacent country, and have been unaccountably omitted even in Mr. Pennant’s Tour, although this gentleman accurately describes most of the scenery around them.
“Leaving the falls, the trouble of visiting which had been amply repaid by the pleasure I had derived from them, I regained the road. On crossing the upper end of the vale, I was delighted with a very beautiful and unexpected view for nearly its whole length; where the mountains down each side appeared, to a great distance, falling off in beautiful perspective.”
Mr. Bingley experienced not more pleasure than we did in the view of these cataracts; but he was fortunate in having more leisure to add to it, by viewing Y Trivaen, or the Three Summits, which bounds the right extremity of the hollow, and Llyn Ogwen, from which the river of that name takes its rise: Mr. Hutton’s description of it made us greatly regret the pleasure we were obliged to decline; but having upwards of five miles to return to Bangor, although our road was all down hill, we found it necessary so to do, from the previous fatigues of the day: rocks, Welsh roads, and the viewing of slate quarries, prove the stamina of a tourist. Mr. Hutton approached Llyn Ogwen from Capel-Curig, where there is now an excellent inn, much frequented during the summer months by parties of pleasure. His description is as follows:
“A stranger to the country, to the language, and almost to man, I returned to Nant Gwynant, slept at Capel-Curig, and was wandering over Lord Penrhyn’s new road towards Caernarvon. The cascades on my left were rolling down with violence, after heavy rain, when a sheet of water, one mile long and three quarters wide, presented itself to view; which by the map I knew must be Ogwen Pool. But what was my surprise, when, at the extremity of the pool, I instantly found myself upon a precipice two hundred feet high, and, in a moment, a most beautiful valley burst upon me of nearly one mile wide and four long; the river rushing down this precipice in several stages, and winding full in view through this delightful valley. The rocks appeared tremendous, the mountains sloping, and the verdure increasing with the descent to the bottom, where, if poetically inclined, I might say, ‘Nature sat in majesty, adorned in her best robe of green velvet.’ When I had travelled about three miles along this sequestered valley, I saw four people endeavouring to repair a gate. I addressed one who appeared likely to understand English. He readily answered several questions respecting the road, and other objects. ‘My way, I am informed, Sir, lies through Nant Ffrancon; pray how shall I know when I am in it?’ ‘You are in it now.’ Over part of this vale impends Yr ala wen, its front torn into amazing gullies.”
The new mail-road between Bangor and Cernioga Mawr, through Capel-Curig, saves upwards of nine miles; by this road, through Shrewsbury, the distance to London is two hundred and thirty-six miles three furlongs: the old mail-road, through Chester, is two hundred and fifty-one miles one furlong; and the former road, through Shrewsbury, Llanrwst, Conway, and over Penmaen-mawr, is two hundred and forty-five miles, or by Bridgenorth, two hundred and fifty-two miles.
Along this road lies some exquisite scenery: and the following passage from the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature, will agreeably illustrate the feelings with which it impregnated the author.
“As Helvidius was making an excursion among the mountains, stretching to the east of Moelshiabod, he arrived at the bridge, across a small rivulet; and sitting down upon the grass, fell asleep under the shade of a large holly tree. He awoke just as the sun was sinking in the horizon; a slight shower succeeded; all nature became renovated; and the perfumes, which embalmed the air, seemed even capable of wafting him to the Elysian Fields. The tree, beneath which he reposed, stood in a valley, matchless even in the Island of Madagascar; and the cones of several mountains gave an air of grandeur to the perspective, which nature has forbidden in most other regions. He was lost, as it were, in the enthusiasm of his admiration! At that moment Lord — passed in his coach, apparently insensible to the scenes through which he was conveyed. Oh! how an indiscriminate mingling with men blunts the best feelings of the human heart! ‘Had his Lordship,’ thought Helvidius, ‘seen these lovely pictures, even a thousand and a thousand times before, he might have derived enjoyment from witnessing them again; since it is the autumnal season of the year; and the woods, and shrubs growing out of the rocks, are variegated in a manner that even Salvator Rosa would have loved to look upon them!’
“Though Helvidius was mortified at this insensibility on the part of the statesman, and felt so ready to condemn his taste and want of sensibility, he was weak enough to feel more at war with himself than with him; and began seriously to question which were the wiser of the two; the man who loves, or he who neglects, the varied objects of the material world. ‘He is a Peer,’ exclaimed he to himself, ‘a man of education,—a statesman,—one who is looked up to in the world, as being, in a manner, pre-eminent over his species:—he seems to have little relish for all these objects, which I have been looking upon with such enthusiasm. It must be folly and weakness in me, therefore, to indulge this humour; a humour, which, from what I have seen of mankind, I am sensible that most men, who look not up through every object they see, to the Architect that makes it, would esteem frivolous and idle, if not criminal. There are no silver mines here: nor does this rivulet leave any gold-dust upon its shores!’ He sat down mortified. To dissipate his chagrin, he took a volume of Epictetus out of his pocket, and opening the book, his eye alighted upon the following passage. ‘As when you see an asp in a golden casket, you do not esteem that asp happy, because it is inclosed in materials so costly and so magnificent, but despise and would shun it, on account of its venom: so, when you see vice lodged in the midst of wealth and the swelling pride of fortune, be not struck with the splendour of the materials, with which it is surrounded, but despise the gross alloy of its manners and sentiments.’ Upon reading this passage, Helvidius became instantly ashamed of his folly, and reconciled to his enthusiasm. ‘Though this is a man,’ said he to himself, ‘who, like the King of Sweden’s enchanted cup, can almost make the wind turn to any part of the compass, which pleases his humour most: though he is perpetually surrounded by persons, who, if he were to take his shoe from off his foot, hurl it into the air, and proclaim it a god, would worship it as it fell; and though he is a rising sun, whom half the world would worship; yet would I rather be able to trace the Power which formed this holly-tree, up to as far as my imagination is capable of soaring, than be the man for him to shake by the hand; to admit to his banquets; to revel with his minions; to hang, as it were, upon his lips; and to be raised to ecstasy by his smiles!
“Climb at court for me that will
Tottering favour’s pinnacle;
All I wish is to be still.
Settled in some secret nest,
In calm quiet let me rest:
And far from off the public stage,
Pass away my quiet age.”
On leaving Bangor we proceeded to the pretty little village of Aber, which gives its name to the last of the ferries over the Menai. The walk from the village across the Lavan Sands to the ferry is about four miles. This walk it would be hazardous for a stranger to undertake without a guide, as the sands frequently shift. During foggy weather, the large bell of Aber, given for this purpose by Lord Bulkeley, is constantly rung, as a guide to direct those coming from the island.
Near the bridge is a circular mount, seemingly artificial, which was the foundation of a small castle, probably constructed of timber, as many of the Welsh fortresses were; the vestiges of the moat and its feeder from the river still remain.
“Traces of buildings have been discovered near the spot, which were probably the remains of the prince’s palace, as the inhabitants still pretend to show strangers the foundation of the old kitchen. Several memorials, &c. appear in our Welsh histories, dated Aber Garth Celyn, which is the ancient name by which this place was distinguished.”—Williams.
At the siege of Montgomery, in the reign of Henry the Third, Llewelyn ap Iorwerth took prisoner a potent baron, named William de Breos, whom he conducted to this castle. William, who was both accomplished and handsome, gained not only the friendship of his conqueror, but likewise the affections of his wife, [233] with whom he ventured to carry on an intrigue. This not having been discovered by Llewelyn till after the baron had been ransomed, he condescended to resort to a breach of hospitality, for the purpose of getting him again into his power.
De Breos having accepted an invitation from Llewelyn to visit him, the latter no sooner got possession of his person, than he caused him to be hung on the side of the opposite hill. The next morning the bard of the palace (the princess being ignorant of his fate) accosted her in the following rhyme:
“Diccyn, doccyn, gwraig Llywelyn,
Beth a roit ti am weled Gwilym?”“Tell me, wife of Llywelyn, what you would give for a sight of your William?”
To which the princess answered:
“Cymru, Lloegr a Llywelyn
Y rown I gyd am weled Gwilym!”“Wales and England and Llywelyn,
I’d give them all to see my William!”
The bard, thus aggravating Llewelyn’s cruelty, shewed him to her hanging on a tree, on the side of the hill, at a place called Wern Grogedig. Upon a mountain, about a mile south of Llewelyn’s Castle, in a field called Cae Gwlyn du, is a cave where William de Breos was interred, still called Tyddyn Gwilym.
Aber is much resorted to during the summer season, the sands at high water affording excellent bathing: the inn likewise affords good accommodation. It chiefly belongs to Lord Bulkeley, and exhibits numerous proofs of his lordship’s benevolence: amongst the rest a new steeple to the church, with a ring of bells.
From hence, after passing Gosddinog (Mrs. Crawley’s) we soon reached the dark lowering promontory of Pen-mawn-mawr, about eight miles from Bangor, rising perpendicularly, in a massy wall, to the height of one thousand four hundred feet: huge fragments of shattered rock are scattered by the side of the road; and a wall, scarcely five feet high, alone protects a carriage from the steep precipice; which, from the slightness of the foundation, has even fallen down in many parts. In this awfully sublime situation we remained for some time, astonished at the bold protuberance of the rocks, which seemed to project their dark sides to augment the idle roar of the waves.
The difference between looking up and looking down a precipice is well marked by Mr. Jefferson, in the account he furnished the Marquis de Chastellux, of the Virginian bridge of rocks. “Though the sides of the bridge,” says he, “are provided, in some parts, with a parapet of fixed rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to them, and look over into the abyss. You voluntarily fall on your hands and feet, creep to the parapet, and look over it. Looking from the height about a minute gave me a violent head-ache. If the view from the top be painful and intolerable, that from below is delightful in the extreme. It is impossible for the emotions, arising from the sublime, to be felt beyond what they are on the sight of so beautiful an arch; so elevated and so light, springing up, as it were, to heaven. The rapture of the spectator is indescribable.”
In keeping the direct line of road the traveller leaves behind him many antiquities worthy of attention; Mr. Williams’s account of which, from his being a resident near the spot, appearing to be the best, as well as containing a most full and interesting description of the ancient Welsh or British games, I shall transcribe: at the same time strongly recommending the work to such as wish to take a minute survey of this county.—His route is reversed, “but as most strangers will, no doubt, proceed from Conway to Bangor, it shall be my endeavour to act as their guide, and mention some particulars which are worth their attention along this road. For the first two miles he will proceed up hill, until he comes to an opening between two rocks, near a place called Sychnant, when all of a sudden a most magnificent scene presents itself. From hence he commands a full view of Beaumaris Bay, generally covered with a number of small vessels; the Puffin, or Priestholm island, the village of Llangoed, the town of Beaumaris, Baron-hill, and the Friars; the former, the beautiful seat of the Lord Viscount Bulkeley, and the latter, that of his brother, Sir Robert Williams, Bart. M.P. all on the Anglesea shore. On the Caernarvonshire side, Bangor and Penrhyn Castle; and last, though not least, the huge Penmaen-mawr, protruding its rocky front into the sea, forming a natural barrier in such manner (to all appearance) as to cut off every communication this way, and render any farther progress impracticable. The art of man has, however, at length conquered these difficulties, and surmounted every obstacle, for about the year 1772, an excellent road was formed along the edge of this once tremendous and dangerous precipice, under the direction of the ingenious Mr. Sylvester, parliament having generously voted a grant for this purpose. Prior to this event several fatal accidents had happened here; and one or two nearly miraculous escapes are recorded in Pennant’s tour through North Wales. At that time no carriage passed this way, and consequently all the travelling was either on foot or on horseback. Dean Swift was generally a pedestrian, and in one of his rambles he left these lines, written on a pane of glass, at the old inn (now a farm-house) near this mountain:—
‘Before you venture here to pass,
Take a good refreshing glass;
And when you are over take another,
Your fainting spirits to recover.’
“Before the traveller descends from the top of Sychnant, just mentioned, to the little vale Dwygyfylchi, he should deviate a little to the left, in order to examine some antiquities, near a place called Gwddw Glâs, in that parish. Here are several circles of stones, of various diameters, and large Carneddau, viz. barrows, or tumuli; supposed to have been memorials of those heroes who fell in the field of battle, as cistfaens, or stone coffins, are frequently discovered in some of these circular heaps or collection of stones. The principal circle now consists of ten upright stones, at unequal distances: the largest is eight feet three inches high; on the ground is another, eleven feet two inches; the diameter of this circle is eighty feet.
“Near this are four other smaller circles; in the centre of one is a flat stone, the remains of a cromlech, from which it may be conjectured that it was a Druidical or bardic circle. About a quarter of a mile from these is a large circle, composed of small stones, and near it another of large stones; and not far from these another circle, composed of smaller stones.
“Near the last is a huge upright stone, called Maen y Campiau, or the stone of games; and nearly contiguous is a carnedd, and a small circle of twelve stones; adjoining to these are also a great number of what are now called in this country Cyttiau Gwyddelod (woodmen or Irishmen’s huts), being the foundations of small buildings, made of round stones; and the vestige of a road is still visible in a direction from hence towards the Conway. Some of these last might probably have been the summer habitations or encampment of a small detachment of the Roman legion, stationed at Caer Rhun, or Conovium, for the purpose of protecting their cattle.
“Having mentioned Maen y Campiau, it may not perhaps be considered a digression to enumerate the twenty-four Welsh or British games, of which there were ten Gurolgampau, or manly games; viz. 1. to lift up great weights; 2. running; 3. leaping; 4. swimming; 5. wrestling; 6. riding. These six were styled Tadogion, viz. pertaining to fathers, or grown up persons, and required only bodily strength and activity; this last, Marchogaeth, is supposed to have included charioteering, or the skilful driving and management of different kinds of carriages. The other four were, 1. archery; 2. playing with the sword and buckler; 3. playing with the Cledda deuddwrn, or two-handed sword; 4. Chwarau ffoun ddwybig, or playing with the two-end staff or spear. Next to these were the ten Mabolgampau, or those more peculiarly adapted to young men; viz. 1. coursing; 2. fishing; 3. fowling; the remaining seven were of the domestic kind; 1. Barddoniaeth, or poetical composition; 2. Chwareu’r Delyn, or playing upon the harp; 3. reading Welsh; 4. singing with the harp; 5. singing between three or four, most probably in alternate stanzas, or Pennillion; 6. drawing or painting, particularly coats of arms; 7. heraldry. After these were four Gogampiau, or minor games; viz. 1. Chwarau Gwydd-bwyll, a game similar to that of draughts; 2. Chwarau Tawl-Bwrdd, probably back-gammon, as this word is supposed to be derived from the Welsh language; viz. Back, little, and Cammawn, or Gammon, Battle; and Tawl-Burdd means the toss on the table; 3. Chwarau Ffristeal, or the game of the dice-box; in what manner it was played is not known at present; 4. Cyweiraw Telyn, or the tuning of the harp.
“After visiting these circles, the traveller may either proceed to the top of Pen-maen-mawr, or descend to the high road, near Dygyfylchi Church, not far from which, just at the foot of Pen-maen-bach, is Pendyffryn, the seat of T. Smith, Esq. In the clefts of the rocks, above the turnpike-gate, near Pen-maen-mawr, grows the Cratægus Aria, or white beam-tree. Mr. Pennant observes, the Swiss procure a good kind of ardent spirit from the berries. The summit of this mountain seems to have been fortified by two or three walls, one within the other; and there are still visible the remains of a great number of huts, or small buildings, most probably at one time the habitations of soldiers; it was, no doubt, a strong military post, and is supposed to have been made use of by the Britons and Romans. The Roman road from Segontium to Conovium must have passed near it, probably on the south side; and this high mountain, so conspicuous and so easily distinguished at a distance, formed a kind of link, no doubt, in the military chain of communication between this county and Denbighshire, as it is very visible from Dinorwick (now called Pen Dinas), a Roman encampment in the parish of Llandeiniolen, near Caernarvon on the west, and from many fortified eminences in the other county, on the east. The usual signals in ancient times were fires by night, and a particular kind of flag by day. Having examined the immense ruins of Braich y Dinas, we now proceed along the high road, through the parish of Llanfairfechan; and leaving that small church on an eminence, a little to the left of the road, and on the right, Brynn y Neuadd, an old neglected family seat, at one time the property of Humphrey Roberts, Esq. and afterwards conveyed to the Wynnes of Plas Newydd, near Denbigh, by the marriage of his daughter to a son of that family: we soon pass Gorddinog,” &c.—Williams.
Pursuing a good turnpike-road from Mrs. Crawley’s, we presently came in sight of the towers of