RUABON,
purposing to visit Wynnstay Park, the much-admired seat of Sir Watkin Williams Wynne. On leaving March Wiel, a most delightful prospect spread before us; in the retrospect, the tower of Wrexham Church brought to our recollection the views of Magdalen College tower, in the vicinity of Oxford.
The park of Wynnstay is well stocked with red deer; excellent plantations; and the house is an elegant modern structure; but has nothing in the inside particularly deserving the attention of the traveller. In the grounds the chief object worthy of inspection is a very elegant obelisk, erected to the memory of the present Sir Watkin’s father. The height is a hundred and one feet; the base of it sixteen, and the top nine, built with free-stone, and fluted. Round the top is formed a gallery, with a handsome urn in bronze, after an elegant design, cast in London: round the base of the column are wreaths of oak leaves, in the beaks of four eagles, cast in the same metal. On the south-west side is a door, with a stair-case within the obelisk leading to the top. We regretted that the key could not be procured, as the prospect from that elevation must be extremely fine. On the other three sides an appropriate inscription, in English, Welsh, and Latin, is to be carved.
Through this park runs Offa’s Dyke, thrown up by the great King of Mercia, from whence it derives its name, to check the irruptions of the Welsh, mark the confines of each country, and give greater security to his own. It begins at Basingwerk in Flintshire, and ends at Chepstow in Monmouthshire; extending in a line of not less than one hundred and fifty miles over rocks and mountains. This great undertaking still retains the ancient name of Clawdh Offa, or Offa’s Dyke.
Passing through the little village of Ruabon, situated at the extremity of Sir Watkin’s park, a very interesting and picturesque country, composed of rich valleys and gently sloping hills, presented itself to our view; and, at some distance, we soon caught a glimpse of Chirk Castle, a noble seat of the family of the Middletons, standing on an eminence. Four miles from Llangollen we inquired for the wonderful
PONTCYSYLLTY AQUEDUCT, [281]
(pronounced Pont y Casulte) or famous aqueduct, erected near that bridge, over the river Dee, and found ourselves within half a mile of this great and astonishing undertaking. The stone of which it is built resembles that of Portland; and the effect which it produces, from whatever point it is viewed, is highly pleasing. On the middle column is the following inscription:
“The Nobility and Gentry of
The adjacent counties,
Having united their efforts with
The great commercial interest of this country,
In creating an intercourse and union between
England and Wales,
By a navigable communication of the three rivers,
Severn, Dee, and Mersey;
For the mutual benefit of agriculture and trade,
Caused the first stone of this aqueduct of
Pontcysyllty,
To be laid on the 25th day of July, M.DCC.XCV.
When Richard Myddleton, of Chirk, Esq. M.P.
One of the original Patrons of the
Ellesmere Canal,
Was Lord of this Manor,
And in the reign of our Sovereign,
George the Third;
When the equity of the Laws, and
The security of Property,
Promoted the general welfare of the nation;
While the Arts and Sciences flourished
By his patronage, and
The conduct of Civil Life was improved
By his example.”
“Pont y Cyssyllte, a bridge of several arches, close to it, is quite eclipsed by its stupendous height and magnitude. In it we recognize the great water conveyances of ancient Rome, which, though superior in point of length, were inferior in other respects. Its direction is north and south, crossing the Dee at right angles. It forms, connected as it is with the surrounding fine scenery, a noble and magnificent picture; but to view it to the best advantage, the stranger must ascend the acclivities on either side of it: from whence he will be highly pleased with a scene, in which there is every concomitant circumstance that can please the lover of nature and art.”
The extent of the aqueduct is nine hundred and eighty-eight feet, and exhibits nineteen arches, each forty-five feet span. The summit has a water-trough of cast iron, one thousand and nine feet in length, and in breadth eleven feet eight inches. The elegant piers lessen upwards gradually, from ten feet width, and twenty-one feet depth at the base, to seven feet width, and twelve feet depth at the top. These piers are one hundred and sixteen feet high from the river, and from their ending, to the greatest height of the building, twenty feet; making the total elevation, one hundred and twenty-six feet. To each end of the aqueduct are added ten feet six inches of iron work. From centre to centre of each arch are screwed together eleven strong iron plates, as strengthened.
The lime rocks here are very great; and, by calcination on the spot, are rendered fit for immediate use; and, as the Ellesmere canal is opened for public traffic, they must yield immense profit to the proprietors, who are now enabled to supply all the neighbouring counties, Chester, Liverpool, &c.
Wood, water, and sloping hills, all combine to render this vale interesting. Several detached cottages are sprinkled through its wooded declivities; and here and there a gentleman’s seat, “embosomed high in tufted trees,” makes a pleasing feature in the fascinating landscape. Returning to the turnpike road, a short saunter soon brought us to the romantically-situated town of
LLANGOLLEN,
(pronounced Thlangothlen) completely environed with mountains, with a high hill to our right, bearing on its narrow peak the small remains of Castle Dinas Brân. The bridge, adjacent to the town, thrown over the rapid Dee, consisting of six arches, and formerly esteemed one of the principal wonders of Wales, by no means answered our expectations. Some difficulty, no doubt, attended its first erection, as the foundation is built on the solid rock.
The elegant description of the valley in the kingdom of Amhara, by Dr. Johnson, is very applicable to Llangollen; for “all the blessings of nature seemed here to be collected, and its evils extracted and excluded.” Without a sigh of regret, not like the discontented Rasselas, I could here pass the remainder of my days, “in full conviction, that this vale contains within its reach all that art or nature can bestow. I could pity those, whom fate had excluded from this seat of tranquillity, as the sport of chance, and the slaves of misery.” Such is the enviable situation of Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby; who, thus veiled in obscurity, have fitted up, in a true characteristic style, an elegant little cottage, at the west extremity of the town, situated on a knoll. The two rooms which are allotted for the inspection of strangers, are very handsomely furnished: the dining-room is ornamented with drawings, the most favourite spots in the vicinity being selected as the subjects. The window commands a prospect of the mountains, which awfully rise in front. The study, looking on the well-arranged plantations of the garden, was appropriately furnished with a choice collection of books. We regretted, in the absence of the gardener, that we could not gain admittance to the grounds. The vale of Llangollen, and this enviable retreat, have been the subject of much admiration, both in verse and prose; and highly deserve the praises which have been lavished upon it:
“Say, ivy’d Valle Crucis; time delay’d
Dim on the brink of Deva’s wand’ring floods,
Your ivy’d arch glitt’ring through the tangled shade,
Your grey hills tow’ring o’er your night of woods;
Deep in the vale recesses as you stand,
And, desolately great, the rising sign command;
Say, lovely ruin’d pile, when former years
Saw your pale train at midnight altars bow;
Saw superstition frown upon the tears
That mourn’d the rash, irrevocable vow;
Wore one young lip gay Eleanora’s [285a] smile?
Did Zara’s [285b] look serene one tedious hour beguile?”
The bridge of Llangollen is thus described by the elegant pen of Mr. Pennant:—“The bridge, which was founded by the first John Trevor, bishop of St. Asaph, [285c] who died in 1357, is one of the Tri Thlws Cymru, or three beauties of Wales: but more remarkable for its situation than structure. It consists of five arches; whose widest does not exceed twenty-eight feet in diameter. The river usually runs under only one; where it has formed a black chasm of vast depth, into which the water pours with great fury from a high broken ledge, formed in the smooth and solid rock, which composes the whole bed of the river. The view through the arches, either upwards or downwards, is extremely picturesque.”
Having satisfied our curiosity, Dinas Brân, or Crow Castle, next invited our attention; and having attained the summit of a steep and craggy hill, commanding a pleasing view of Llangollen, we arrived at the ruins, which crest this precipice. The remains of this castle are now so trifling, that it scarcely repays even the enthusiast the trouble of ascending. Its appearance is by no means picturesque; not a tree to give effect to the crumbling walls: nor has time spared one of the towers. It was formerly the residence of Myfanwy Vechan, so celebrated in verse. The castle is built of the stone which composes the hill, on which it is erected.
The prospect is very pleasing. Chirk Castle, Wynnstay Park, [286] and many other seats of respectability, more particularly conspicuous. Great part of the vale, and the meandering course of the Dee, may here be traced; whilst the opposite hills are shelved off in an extraordinary and unusual manner, resembling so many walls or fortifications.
The author of the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature, thus describes his ascent up this mountain. “The sun was shooting its evening rays along the vale, embellishing every thing they touched. It having rained all the morning, the freshness with which spring had clad every object, gave additional impulse to all our feelings. Arrived at the summit, the scene became truly captivating: for nature appeared to have drawn the veil from her bosom, and to glory in her charms. The season of early spring, which, in other countries, serves only to exhibit their poverty, displayed new beauties in this. Nature had thrown off her mantle of snow, and appeared to invite the beholder to take a last look of her beauties, ere she shaded the cottage with woodbine, or screened with leaves the fantastic arms of the oak. The clouds soon began to form over their heads, and a waving column lightly touched their hats. Around was one continued range of mountains, with Dinas rising above the river. Immediately below, lay a beautifully-diversified vale, with the Dee,—Milton’s ‘Wizard Stream,’—combining all the charms of the Arno and the Loire, winding through the middle of it: while on the east side of the mountain several villages seemed to rest in calm repose. This beautiful scene was soon converted into a sublime one. For the clouds assuming a more gloomy character, the tops of all the mountains around became totally enveloped; and our heads were now and then encircled with a heavy vapour. A more perfect union of the beautiful and magnificent it were difficult to conceive. No object was discernible above; but below, how captivating! Their feet were illumined by the sun, their heads, as it were, touching the clouds. Above, all was gloomy and dark; below, the sun, from the west, still illumined the villages and spires, the cottages and woods, the pastures and fields, which lay scattered in every direction; while the Dee, at intervals, swept, in many a graceful curve, along the bottom of the vale. These objects, so variously blended, and so admirably contrasted with the sombre scene above them, called to the imagination the golden thoughts of Ariosto; and inspired such a combination of feelings, that, for a time, they were absorbed in silent meditation. While they were indulging in this repose, the sounds of village bells, in honour of a recent marriage, came floating on the breeze from below. The sounds, softened by the distance, and coming from a region so far beneath, lulled them with a choral symphony, that excited the most delightful sensations. And such must ever be the effect on those whose happiness has not been smothered beneath a load of splendid vacuities; in whom society has not engendered an infinity of wants; in whom ignorance has not awakened pride, arrogance, and vanity; and in whom content has the power of lulling every fever of illegitimate desire.”
Having descended this steep eminence, we continued our route to Valle Crucis Abbey, about two miles distant from Llangollen. It would be advisable for strangers first to visit Valle Crucis, and take Dinas Brân Castle in their way back to their inn. The transmutations of time are frequently ridiculous: the long aisles of this monastery, which were once only responsive to the slow-breathed chant, now repeat the rude dissonance of cows, ducks, and all manner of poultry. Instead of these emblems of rusticity, the mind’s eye is more accustomed to appropriate these antique edifices to the midnight procession of monks issuing from their cells to perform the solemn service. These neglected walls are too deeply shrouded by the melancholy grove of towering ash, contiguously formed, to be seen to advantage. An axe, judiciously used, would be of service to the ruin, as the elegant window of the chapel is completely concealed by the luxuriant vegetation around; still, however, a pleasing melancholy pervades the whole scene. The abbey is beautifully screened on all sides by woody hills, which entirely protect it from the inclemency of the winter.
This ancient Cistertian monastery was founded by Madoc ap Griffith Maelor, in the year 1200, and is sometimes called Llan-Egwiste, or Llanegwast. In this vale was the pillar of Eglwyseg: but the country people appeared quite ignorant of its situation. Returning to Llangollen, we pursued the turnpike road to the neat village of