The square tower is part of the most ancient hall; it is still in preservation, but its battlements are concealed beneath an unsightly, awkward dome. From a little summer-house in the garden there is a most satisfactory view of the original plan, as well as of the additions subsequently made from the necessities of an increased establishment. In 1631 Sir Roger annexed a handsome addition, containing, besides many chambers, a withdrawing and a dining-room. In the latter apartment are the arms of the Wynnes and D’Arcies emblazoned on glass. Sir Roger married Mary, daughter of the famous Sir John Wynne, of Gwydyr, and the D’Arcie arms came from D’Arcie Savage, of Leighton, in Cheshire.
ST. WINIFRED’S WELL, HOLYWELL.
Holywell, the largest and most prosperous town in Flintshire, occupies the brow and summit of an eminence near the coast of the Chester channel, or estuary of the Dee. It is a respectable, busy place, possessing some commercial importance, and has been made contributory with Flint, and the other ancient boroughs, in returning one member to the imperial parliament. Its manufactures consist in the smelting and forging of ores and metals raised in the mineral districts of the county; and very extensive works are conducted here of copper, lead, brass, and calamine,—to which have lately been annexed factories of cotton and silk. The parish church is situated at the foot of the steep hill on which the principal streets are erected, and so overhung, that the toll of a bell, if suspended in the tower, would be inaudible in the town. This singular and accidental inconvenience is remedied in the following manner:—A person employed for the purpose carries a good heavy bell, suspended by a strap passing across his shoulders, and falling against a cushion that covers over one of his knees. At every advance of the cushioned knee the bell tolls, and in this way the parishioners are noticed, the length of the bell-toller’s tour being equal to the usual time allowed for summoning a congregation in the accustomed manner.
The English name Holywell, and the Welsh “Tre-ffynnon,” are derived from the celebrated well of Winifred, a saint and martyr, who flourished some time in the seventh century. The fabulous biography of this religious person is extremely singular, and entirely identified with the history of the well. Like the hieroglyphics of the Egyptians, or the mythology of ancient Greece and Rome, the story of St. Winifred undoubtedly possesses some more rational interpretation; but it is a labyrinth from which a clue is yet wanting to enable those involved to effect their escape.
The legendary history assures us that Winifred was the daughter of Thewith, a powerful lord of this country in the seventh century, and niece to the pious St. Beuno. Her uncle having obtained permission from her father to build a church here, took Winifred, who is represented as “devout, young, and beautiful,” under his protection, to assist him in his religious exercises. In this district there lived at the same period Cradocus, the son of King Alen, who, becoming enamoured of the charms of this beautiful young lady, determined to obtain her hand in marriage. It was on a Sunday morning that the young prince first declared the ardour of his affection to Winifred, while her father and his retinue were attending church; but the lady, making a modest excuse for her abrupt retirement, escaped from his presence and ran towards the church. Cradocus, enraged at the rejection of his suit, pursued her to the brow of the bill, and there, drawing his sword, severed her head from her body. The head immediately rolled down the hill, and up to the altar in the church around which her father and her relatives were assembled; and from the spot where it rested a clear and rapid fountain instantly gushed up. St. Beuno hastily caught up the bleeding head, and placing it upon the body they forthwith reunited, no trace of separation remaining but a little white line encircling the neck. As for the assassin, he instantly dropped down dead upon the spot; but the legend does not decide whether the earth swallowed him up, or his Satanic majesty bore his impious corpse away. The waters of the spring, notwithstanding the reunion of the head and trunk, continued to issue with unabated rapidity; the sides of the well became clothed with a delicious scented moss, and the pebbles at the bottom were tinctured with a few drops of the martyr’s blood. Winifred survived her decapitation fifteen years, and retiring to the monastery of Gwytherin, in Denbighshire, there accepted the veil from the hands of St. Elerius, and died abbess of that religious house. Ecclesiastic historians acknowledge that she was interred there; and four upright stones, forming a continued right line, on one of which the name Winifred is graven in ancient characters, are still shown in the churchyard at Gwytherin as the grave of this celebrated virgin martyr. According to Dugdale, a sober author, the bones of St. Winifred were exhumed and translated from Gwytherin to the abbey of Shrewsbury in 1136, by Robertus Salopiensis, who was abbot there, and who wrote an account of her life and miracles.
The well, as it now appears, is enclosed in a polygonal basin. It is covered by a temple, built by Margaret, the mother of Henry the Seventh, in that profuse style of ornament which prevailed amongst the ecclesiastic edifices of that age. The roof is of stone, richly carved and groined, the legend of the saint being represented in the different compartments between the ribs. From the angles of the curb-stone, enclosing the water, light clustered columns rise, supporting a beautiful canopy adorned with tracery, suspended exactly over the well. The arms of the Stanleys, and of other noble families allied to them, were inserted in different panels, but all these devices are now indistinct, though the little temple itself is in excellent preservation. An image of the Virgin Mary occupied a niche opposite the side entrance, but this has long since disappeared. The water appears to gush up with all the rapidity the legend would insinuate, and to possess all the transparency there implied. The sweet scented moss is called by botanists jungermania asplenoides, and the drops of blood upon the pebbles below are also a vegetable production, called byssus jolithus. To every visiter who enters, the water certainly presents an appearance of great freshness, as if the fountain had only just gushed forth that moment; and the rapidity of its ebullition must necessarily be extraordinary, one hundred tons of water being ejected every minute. The overflow passes through an arch, beneath the front wall of the temple, into an oblong bath, surrounded by an ambulatory, and protected by an iron balustrade. Here pilgrims were formerly suffered to immerse themselves, in expectation of miraculous results; and, that credulity has some sincere votaries, is testified by the barrows of the impotent and the crutches of the lame, which hang as votive offerings from the temple’s roof. In a second story is a small chapel, now desecrated into a poor school. This part of the building has been decided, by a decree in chancery, to be private property, but the well and its interesting enclosures are free to the public.
The benefits derived by the infirm pilgrims, who formerly visited this holy well, may be problematical; but the commercial advantages conferred upon the town and neighbourhood by their proximity to the fountain are certain and distinct. The quantity of water which issues at the moment of its escape from the enclosure, is found sufficient to set in motion the wheel of a corn mill: immediately after, four cotton factories are erected on its stream, followed in quick succession by a copper smelting house and brass foundry, coppersmithy, wire mill, a calamine calcinary, and other factories: all established on the current of this useful river, whose course does not exceed a mile in length from the fountain to the sea, and whose only supply is the holy well of St. Winifred.
HAWARDEN CASTLE, FLINTSHIRE.
Hawarden, commonly pronounced Harden, is a small manufacturing town, seated near the estuary of the river Dee, and on the mail coach road from Chester to Holyhead. Tiles and coarse earthen wares are made here, and manufactories are established of Glauber’s salts, sal ammoniac, and ivory black, besides which it possesses an extensive iron foundery. A rail road extending to the water’s edge enables the manufacturer to export his goods with facility. In the legendary history of this place its inhabitants are styled “Harden Jews,” the origin of which epithet is explained by the following curious tale. In the year 946, Cynan ap Ellis ap Anarawd, being king of Gwynedd or North Wales, there stood a christian temple here, to which a rood-loft was attached, containing an image of the Virgin bearing a large cross in the hands and called the Holy Rood. The summer of this year proving unaccountably hot and dry, the Hardeners prayed to the Holy Rood for rain, and Lady Trawst, the wife of Sytsylt, governor of the castle, was one of the most constant in her supplications to the image. One day, when this devout lady was on her knees before the figure, the large cross fell down, and killed her on the spot. The Hardeners, previously chagrined at the indifference of the Holy Rood to their fervent entreaties, the weather continuing as warm as before, determined to bring the image to trial for the murder of the unfortunate Lady Trawst. This ceremony was solemnly performed, and the criminal being brought in guilty, was, by the majority, sentenced to be hanged. Spar of Mancot, one of the jurymen, thought drowning would be the most suitable mode of destruction, as their prayers were offered on a watery subject. Another, Corbin, suggested that it would be sufficient to lay the image down upon the beach and leave the rest to fate. The latter suggestion was embraced, and the Holy Rood being placed upon the sands was carried, by the flow of the tide, gently up to the walls of Chester, as the legend has it, drowned and dead. The citizens of Chester immediately took it up, interred it on the spot, and set up a monument with this inscription:
The Jews their God did crucify,
The Hardeners theirs did drown,
Because their wants she’d not supply,
And lies under this cold stone.