ABER WATERFALL.
The little village of Aber is situated on the coast of Caernarvonshire, at the foot of a steep green hill, against which the tower of the little church appears relieved, and forms a useful landmark to travellers who venture to cross the Lavan sands and ferry from Beaumaris. In foggy weather they are directed in their dangerous journey by the tolling of the church bell. The church and inn constitute nearly the whole of the buildings, public and private, in this sequestered spot. At a little distance from the village, and in the bwlch or entrance of a grand defile, stands an artificial mount, anciently the site of a palace belonging to Llewellyn ap Gryffydd. William de Breos, a powerful lord in the reign of Henry the Third, happening to fall into the hands of Llewellyn, at the siege of Montgomery, was conducted by him to his castle at Aber, and detained there a state prisoner for a considerable time. After his liberation suspicions of jealousy began to haunt the prince’s mind, and with a baseness which nothing but that hateful passion could create, invited De Breos to return to Aber as a guest; and, under the guise of friendship, violated all laws of princely honour and hospitality by hanging up his guest at the palace gate. While the luckless lord was suspended from the tree, Llewellyn is said to have asked his princess, in a taunting manner, what would she give to see her lover; and leading her to the window, pointed out to her the lifeless body of De Breos. Tradition preserves this tale in a few bardic lines, thus translated:
Lovely princess, said Llewellyn,
What will you give to see your Gwillim?
Wales and England and Llewellyn
I’d freely give to see my Gwillim, &c.
In a field now called Caer y Gwillim Ddû, or the field of Black William, a cave is shown in which De Breos is believed to have been interred. The life of the Princess Joan, both before and after this cruel tragedy, contradicts the unworthy suspicions of her lord.
Aber was also the favourite residence of Dafydd ap Llewellyn, who, sinking beneath a weight of afflictions, expired here in the year 1246, and was interred in the abbey of Conway. The royal palace occupied the site of an ancient fort, auxiliary to the castle of Caer-Hun, in protecting the pass of Bwlch y ddau ffaen.
A noble glen at right angles, nearly with the line of coast, opens towards the Rhaidar mawr, or Great Cataract of Aber. Precipitous hills close in on either side, and all egress seems denied in the remote distance. Down the front of Maes y Gaer, a height of one hundred feet and upwards, the waters are thrown with vast impetuosity, and dashed from the lower part of the fall with a wonderful horizontal projection. The suddenness of the break, over which the cascade tumbles, leads many an innocent victim to a painful termination of its existence, and the gloomy character of the picture is generally increased by the shattered remains of some poor animal numbered amongst the rocks at the foot of the great fall.
—“the roused up river pours along,
Resistless, roaring dreadful, down it comes
From the rude mountain and the mossy wild,
Tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far.”Thomson.
LLYN GWYNANT.
This is one of two fine lakes occupying the beautiful vale between Beddgelert and Dyffryn Mymbre, or Capel Curig. It washes the lowest visible part of Snowdon’s base, and is supplied by a noble cataract issuing from Ffynnon las, [66] one of the pools in the dark recesses of the great mountain. The hills around it, though picturesque and lofty, are not sufficiently broken for sublimity. On the southern extremity of the lake some fragments of a building are still discernible, confidently believed to be the ruins of a chapel erected by Madoc, the son of Owen Gwynedd, who dwelt here previous to his emigration to South America. The vale here contracts, and the grand mountain masses rapidly close in, forming the hollow of “Cwn Llan,” where Snowdon is observed to tower with greater majesty than in any other position. Beneath his darkening front, and encompassed by a noble amphitheatre of mountains, is Plas Gwynant, the truly romantic seat of Mr. Vaudrey. At this precise spot the beauty of the scenery increases wonderfully, and the spectator is lost in an endless variety of rock, and wood, and flood, and mountain. Llanberis Vale may be more sublime, no valley in Wales is equally beautiful. Nor is the accompaniment of lake wanting here. Lyn Dinas now opens to the view, with its dark brown surface and verdant banks. At its extremity rises a remarkable hill commanding the whole vale, whose rough, bold sides are in unison with the surrounding objects. Here are the ramparts of a fortress, which frowned, from its precipices, over the dark waters of the lake, and commanded the narrow avenues of the valley. This is the Dinas Emrys, where
Prophetic Merlyn sat, when to the British king
The changes long to come auspiciously he told.
Here Vortigern retired, disgusted with the treachery of his Saxon allies; and being frustrated in his first essays to raise a fortress, by some invisible hand, consulted all the wise men of the age, who assured him, that his palace would always want stability until sprinkled with the blood of one “without a father born.” In the town of Caermarthen the child Merlin was found, the circumstances of whose life corresponded with the advice of the elders. The harmless boy was ordered to be sacrificed, but his questions so confounded the base advisers of his death, that he obtained both life and liberty. The legend is thus embodied in poetic translation by Drayton:
“To that mighty king, which rashly undertook
A strong walled tower to rear, those earthly spirits that shook
The great foundation still, in dragon’s horrid shape,
That dreaming wizard told, making the mountain gape
With his most powerful charms, to view those caverns deep.
And from the top of Bridd, so high and wondrous steep,
Where Dinas Emrys stood, shew’d where the serpents fought,
The white that tore the red; from whence the prophet wrought
The Briton’s sad decay, then shortly to ensue.”
LLANGOLLEN. [68]
The character of Llangollen Vale is peculiar. The hills on either side are steep and lofty, and descend abruptly, though in verdant lawns, to the channel of the Dee. Although it may be considered to extend a length of ten or twelve miles, yet such is the extraordinary sinuosity of its form, that it hardly admits a prospect of half that extent or distance. The village has partaken largely of the benefits resulting from good public roads, and has progressed with much rapidity. It is more visited by tourists than any other part of the principality. The church, a handsome structure, is dedicated to Saint Collen, and from the cemetery is seen the much admired view of the old bridge across the Dee, with rich accompaniments of wood and rock, and the fine back-ground of Dinas Bran. About four miles from the village the vale expands, and discloses a scene of inexpressible beauty. Here the noble aqueduct of Pont-y-Cysyllte, on a scale so vast as to approach the character of a natural creation, is thrown from mountain to mountain. It extends a length of nine hundred and eighty feet, and is sustained by twenty piers one hundred and sixteen feet in height from the bed of the river Dee, the span of the intervening arches being forty-five feet. At each end are spacious embankments, now clothed with the richest foliage; and the old bridge across the river has not only lent its name to the great work, but has made a sacrifice of its beauty and publicity, being concealed and quite eclipsed by the towering structure above it. The object of its construction, as well as the meritorious exertions of its originators, are fully set forth in the following inscription graven on the central pier:
The Nobility and Gentry of the adjacent counties
having united their efforts with the great commercial
interests 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 Pont-y-cysyllty to
be laid on the 25th day of July, 1795; when Richard Myddleton,
of Chirk, Esq. M.P. one of the original patrons of the Ellesmere Canal,
was Lord of the Manor, and in the reign of our sovereign George III.
When the equity of the laws and 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.
This inscription is doubtless true, and conveys a rational moral; but the writer forgot that artists and men of science deserve, as a reward for their great services, at least, the introduction of their names upon such commemorative tables. Mr. Telford furnished the design, and the contract for its erection was fulfilled by Wilson.
PLAS-NEWYDD, LLANGOLLEN.
The history of the late occupants of this beautiful little cottage is at variance with the censure of the poet’s Angelina on the quality of friendship. Lady Eleanor Butler, daughter of the Earl of Ormond, was born in Dublin, and almost from her cradle had been an orphan. Wealthy, beautiful, and nobly sprung, her hand was sought by persons of rank and fortune equal to her own; but to all addresses of that description she expressed at once her disinclination. Although she openly avowed this taste for independence, no woman was ever more distinguished for mildness, modesty, and all those feminine graces which adorn and give interest to the sex. Miss Ponsonby, a member of the noble family of Besborough, had been an early associate of Lady Eleanor; and, possibly, it may have contributed in some degree to cement their growing friendship, the incidental circumstance of both having been born in the same city, upon the same day and year, and being both bereaved of their parents at precisely the same period. Minds of so much sensibility soon mistook their fancies for realities, and rapidly concluding that they were destined for a life of independence, at the early age of seventeen vowed eternal friendship and devotion to each other for the residue of their lives. At the age of twenty-one, when the arm of the law rescued them from the friendly detention of their relatives, they withdrew to the solitary little cottage of Plas-Newydd, never to return again to the gay, glittering world of fashion, or the country which gave them birth. Having enlarged and decorated their rural dwelling, laid out and planted their grounds, the selection of a library became an early care. Here much time was spent; and the glowing language of Miss Seward, a friend and frequent guest at Plas-Newydd, bears a high testimony to the philosophic quality of their minds. “All that is grateful, all that is attached, will be ever warm from my heart towards each honoured and accomplished friend, whose virtues and talents diffuse intellectual sunshine that adorns and cheers the loveliest of the Cambrian vales.”—Letter 38.
The habits and manners of the “Llangollen ladies” were frank and open, and their hospitality of the most liberal kind. They visited and received the neighbouring gentry until the “weight of years pressed heavy on them.” Madame de Genlis and the Mademoiselle D’Orleans, are to be numbered amongst their visiters; and it was here that intellectual being first heard the wild notes of our Æolian harp, of which she remarks, “it is natural for such an instrument to have originated in a country of storms and tempests, of which it softens the manners.”
Upwards of half a century these amiable companions graced the valley of Llangollen, extending a cheerful hospitality to their numerous guests, and exercising a benevolence the most unlimited towards the most friendless of their neighbours. At length they were called before the throne of brightness and purity, at the advanced ages of seventy-two and seventy-seven. Their remains are deposited in a vault in Llangollen cemetery, where the body of Mrs. Mary Carroll, their faithful servant, had been laid at rest before them.