The celebrated Madame de Genlis, in an entertaining miscellany, under the title of “Souvenirs de Felicie L---,” has given the following graphic narrative of “The Fair Recluses of Llangollen:”—
“During my residence in England (says she), nothing struck me so much as the delicious cottage of Llangollen, in North Wales. It is not a little extraordinary, that a circumstance so singular and remarkable as that connected with this retreat, should hitherto have escaped the notice of all modern travellers. The manner in which I became acquainted with it was this:—During our long-stay at Bury, a small company of five or six persons, including ourselves, met every evening from seven till half-past ten o’clock. We diverted ourselves with music and conversation, so that the time past very agreeably. One night friendship happened to be the subject of conversation, and I declared that I would with pleasure undertake a long journey to see two persons who had long been united by the bonds of genuine friendship. ‘Well, Madam,’ replied Mr. Stuart (now Lord Castlereagh), go to Llangollen; you will there see a model of perfect friendship, which will afford you the more delight, as it is exhibited by two females who are yet young and charming in every respect. Would you like to hear the history of Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby?’—‘It would give me the greatest pleasure.’—‘I will relate it to you.’ At these words the company drew nearer to Mr. Stuart, we formed a little circle round him, and after recollecting himself a few moments, he thus began his narrative:—
“‘Lady Eleanor Butler, was born in Dublin. She was left an orphan while in her cradle; and possessing an ample fortune, together with an amiable disposition and a beautiful person, her hand was solicited by persons belonging to the first families in Ireland. At an early age she manifested great repugnance to the idea of giving herself a master. This love of independence, which she never dissembled, did no injury to her reputation; her conduct has always been irreproachable, and no female is more highly distinguished for sweetness of temper, modesty, and all the virtues which adorn her sex. In tender infancy a mutual attachment took place between her and Miss Ponsonby, by an accident which made a deep impression on their imagination. They had no difficulty to persuade themselves that heaven had formed them for each other; that is, that it had designed each of them to devote her existence to the other, so that they might glide together down the stream of life, in the bosom of peace, the most intimate friendship, and delicious independence. This idea their sensibility was destined to realize. Their friendship gradually grew stronger with their years, so that at seventeen they mutually engaged never to sacrifice their liberty, or to part from each other. From that moment they formed the design of withdrawing from the world, and of settling for good in some sequestered retreat. Having heard of the charming scenery of Wales, they secretly absconded from their friends for the purpose of fixing upon their future residence. They visited Llangollen, and there, on the summit of a mountain, they found a little detached cottage, with the situation of which they were delighted. Here they resolved to form their establishment. Meanwhile the guardians of the young fugitives sent people after them, and they were conveyed back to Dublin. They declared that they would return to their mountain as soon as they were of age. Accordingly, at twenty-one, in spite of the entreaties and remonstrances of their relatives and friends, they quitted Ireland for ever, and flew to Llangollen. Miss Ponsonby is not rich, but Lady Eleanor possesses a considerable fortune. She purchased the little hut and the property of the mountain, where she built a cottage, very simple in external appearance, but the interior of which displays the greatest elegance. On the top of the mountain she has formed about the house a court and flower-garden; a hedge of rosebushes is the only enclosure that surrounds this rural habitation. A convenient carriage-road, the steepness of which has been diminished by art, was carried along the mountain. On the side of the latter some ancient pines of prodigious height were preserved; fruit trees were planted, and a great quantity of cherry trees in particular, which produce the best and finest cherries in England. The two friends likewise possess a farm for their cattle, with a pretty farm-house and a kitchen-garden at the foot of the mountain. In this sequestered abode these two extraordinary persons, with minds equally cultivated, and accomplishments equally pleasing, have now resided ten years, without ever having been absent from it a single night. Nevertheless they are not unsociable, they sometimes pay visits to the neighbouring gentry, and receive with the greatest politeness travellers on their way to or from Ireland, who are recommended to them by any of their old friends.’
“This account strongly excited my curiosity, and produced the same effect on Mademoiselle d’Orleans and my two young companions. We determined the same night to set out immediately for Llangollen, by the circuitous route of Brighton, Portsmouth, and the Isle of Wight. It was the latter end of July when we arrived at Llangollen. This place has not the rich appearance of the English villages in general, but nothing can equal the cleanliness of the houses, and among the lower classes of any country this is an infallible proof of abundance. Llangollen, surrounded with woods and meadows, clothed with the freshest verdure, is situated at the foot of the mountain belonging to the two friends, which there forms a majestic pyramid covered with trees and flowers. We arrived at the cottage, the only object of our journey, an hour before sunset.
“The two friends had received in the morning by a messenger the letter which Mr. Stuart had given me for them. We were received with a grace, a cordiality, and kindness, of which it would be impossible for me to give any idea. I could not turn my eyes from those two ladies, rendered so interesting by their friendship and so extraordinary on account of their way of life. I perceived in them none of that vanity which takes delight in the surprize of others. Their mutual attachment, and their whole conduct evince such simplicity, that astonishment soon gives way to softer emotions; all they do and say breathes the utmost frankness and sincerity. One circumstance which I cannot help remarking is, that after living so many years in this sequestered retreat, they speak French with equal fluency and purity. I was likewise much struck with the little resemblance there is between them. Lady Eleanor has a charming face, embellished with the glow of health; her whole appearance and manner announce vivacity and the most unaffected gaiety. Miss Ponsonby has a fine countenance, but pale and melancholy. One seems to have been born in this solitude, so perfectly is she at her ease in it; for her easy carriage shews that she has not retained the slightest recollection of the world and its vain pleasures. The other, silent and pensive, has too much candour and innocence for you to suppose that repentance has conducted her into solitude, but you would suppose that she still cherishes some painful regrets. Both have the most engaging politeness, and highly-cultivated minds. An excellent library, composed of the best English, French, and Italian authors, affords them an inexhaustible source of diversified amusement and solid occupation; for reading is not truly profitable except when a person has time to read again.
“The interior of the house is delightful on account of the just proportion and distribution of the apartments, the elegance of the ornaments and furniture, and the admirable view which you enjoy from all the windows; the drawing-room is adorned with charming landscapes, drawn and coloured from nature, by Miss Ponsonby. Lady Eleanor is a great proficient in music; and their solitary habitation is filled with embroidery by them both, of wonderful execution. Miss Ponsonby, who writes the finest hand I ever saw, has copied a number of select pieces in verse and prose, which she has ornamented with vignettes and arabesques, in the best taste, and which form a most valuable collection. Thus the arts are cultivated there with equal modesty and success, and their productions are admired with a feeling that is not experienced elsewhere; the spectator observes with delight that so much merit is secure in this peaceful retreat from the shafts of satire and envy, and that talents unaccompanied with ostentation and pride, have there never coveted any suffrages but those of friendship.
“This evening was a scene of enchantment for me; not one painful reflection disturbed its felicity. I retired to rest, but my imagination was so fully occupied with what I had seen and heard, that my thoughts kept me for a long time awake. At length, I was just falling asleep, when I was roused by the most melodious sounds. I listened in great astonishment; it was not music, but an indistinct and celestial harmony which penetrated my very soul. I discovered that it was produced by a violent wind which had just then arisen; my ear distinguished the distant noise and the whistling usually heard on such occasions, but the winds changing their nature as they approached this asylum of peace and friendship, formed only the most enchanting harmony as they met its trees and its walls. I was strongly disposed to believe in prodigies; but nevertheless I was determined to investigate the nature of this, but I durst not rise for fear of waking Mademoiselle d’Orleans, who was extremely fatigued with her journey, and slept in a bed close by mine. The tempest suddenly ceased, and the harmonious sounds appeared to be carried to a distance by the retiring winds. I raised my head towards the heavens to catch the last tones of this celestial concert, which seemed to be lost in the clouds. I listened with transport like St. Cecilia; if I had had my harp in my hands I should certainly have dropped it; at that moment all terrestrial music appeared totally spiritless and insipid.
“Next morning the whole mystery was explained. On opening my window I found in the balcony an Eolian harp, an instrument with which I was then unacquainted, and which, when the wind blows upon it, produces such enchanting sounds.
“I walked out the whole forenoon with the two friends; nothing can equal the charms of the surrounding scenery, and of the prospects which the mountain whose summit they occupy commands; at this elevation they appear the queens of all the beautiful country at their feet. Towards the north they have a view of the village and of a wood; to the south a long river washes the foot of the mountain, and fertilizes meadows of prodigious extent, beyond which is discovered an amphitheatre of hills, covered with intermingled trees and rocks. In the midst of this wild scenery rises a majestic tower, which might be taken for the Pharos of this coast, but is only the ruins of a magnificent castle, once the residence of the prince of the country. This solitary region was doubtless at that time flourishing and populous, now it is abandoned to nature alone; nothing is now to be seen in it but herds of goats, and a few scattered herdsmen sitting upon the rocks and playing upon the Irish harp. Facing this rustic and melancholy scene the two friends have raised a verdant seat, shaded by two poplars, and thither they told me they often repair in summer to read together the poems of Ossian.
“The ride from Wrexham to Llangollen is remarkable for the sublimity and awful grandeur of the prospects; the most prominent feature in the landscape is a high and stupendous chain of mountains, sometimes swelling into the clouds, or gently shelving into the vallies, around which they form a wide amphitheatre; and by their elevations afford shelter, and tend to fertilize the vales at their bases. I was led to exclaim—
‘I love thy mountain’s giant forms!
Darkly clad in gath’ring storms;
I love thy rocks, down whose steep sides,
With foaming, dizzying crash,
Thunder the torrent’s tan-brown tides,
And roaring whirlwinds dash.’“For,
‘’Mid clouds and crags, dark pools and mountains drear,
The wild-wood’s silence, and the billow’s roll,
Great Nature rules, and claims with brow austere,
The shudd’ring homage of the inmost soul.’“From the craggy sides of the rocks descend the tributary streams to supply the river which divides the dales, and which dashes its foaming impetuous course along the banks, often edged with broken crags and grey rocks, or is seen winding in a deeper and more peaceful stream through dark and silent groves, spreading their autumnal shades over the surface, or often glistening through fields of verdure and cultivated spots of ground; here foaming and chafing some dark ruin’s tottering base, there reflecting the modern villa or the humble hamlet in its silver bosom, and by the variety of scenery giving new beauty to the whole.
“The cottages, bridges, villas, towers, rocks, and dark ruins of Gothic antiquity, are in unison with the surrounding objects, and the attention is frequently called from beholding the beauties of nature to pause on the works of art. In the centre of the long valley which stretches to Llangollen, is erected a most stupendous aqueduct, by which the canal is conveyed from a lofty hill over a wide chasm in the mountains; the length of this amazing work of art and human industry, is, I was informed, three hundred yards, the aqueduct composed of cast iron, is supported on fifty stone pillars and arches, and the view of this immense pile bestriding the valley is grand beyond description, and contributes much to heighten the effect produced by the whole scenery; for here grandeur and sublimity sit enthroned on the mountains, and solitude and human privacy, with their attendant charms, have fixed their abode in the vallies.
“The beauties of the Vale of Llangollen certainly exceed every idea I had formed of their grandeur, and on my arrival at the inn in the village, the muse embodied the following
“LINES ON VISITING LLANGOLLEN.
‘Much have I heard, Llangollen, of thy scenes,
And the wild landscapes of thy mountain greens,
The rushing streams, that dash thy rocks among,
Thy snow-topt mountains, thy wild harper’s song,
Thy fruitful vallies deep, where oft between
Rise hamlets, rocks, and tow’rs to grace the scene.
Where solitude and calm contentment dwell,
And contemplation roves each rocky dell,
Or climbs the snow-topt mountain’s cloudy height
To watch the sinking shades of evening light;
To view the foaming torrent’s misty shower,
To list’ the brooding tempest’s rising roar,
Mark the blue mists the silvery moonbeams shroud,
Or golden ev’ning edge the dusky cloud;
Yet, till this hour my doubting heart has thought
Thy glowing scenes by fancy’s pencil wrought,
Or drest in poetry’s enchanting hues,
And all the flatt’ring colours of the muse;
But if in winter’s storms thy beauties charm,
If the cold breast thy varying landscapes warm,
In summer’s smiles it surely stands confest,
That he who draws thee fairest paints thee best.’”
Having thus seen the various amusing and interesting records, which so many of our most popular authors have given to the world, respecting the once famous “Ladies of Llangollen,” curiosity induced us to pay a visit to this much frequented abode of ancient friendship. Accordingly in March, 1847, we made an excursion, in company with our respected Publisher, to the celebrated retreat of Plas Newydd; and through the favour of Mr. Jacques, an intelligent and hospitable gentleman resident at Pen-y-bryn, Llangollen, we were introduced to the present owners, Miss Lolly and Miss Andrew, and met with a most courteous reception. Their manners are easy, dignified, and lady-like; totally free from all affectation, and in nowise marked by that frigid stateliness and pedantic formality, which a censorious world proverbially attributes to a state of elderly maidenhood. In all its characteristic particulars, the cottage remains in the same condition as in the days of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby; but its present possessors have introduced several judicious alterations in the interior, which, though carried out in strict harmony with the general design of its former occupants, exhibit an improved taste and a cultivated judgment.
The house is delightfully situated, and is well-adapted to realize the notion of the poet—
“’Tis pleasant from the loop-holes of retreat
To look at such a world; to see great Babel
And not feel the crush;”
but the site is not well chosen for developing the many charming prospects which the vale of Llangollen affords; and, indeed, the entire arrangements, both of dwelling and pleasure grounds, seem to be suggestive rather of another poetical maxim in great favour with anchorites and recluses—“Retire, the world shut out.” We cannot agree with Miss Seward, who describes this hermitage as “a retreat which breathes all the witchery of genius, taste, and sentiment.” It is rather fantastical than tasteful, and savours more of eccentricity than sentiment. In the Gothic entrance, there are undoubtedly many fine specimens of carved wood-work, some of which we suspect were the plunder of despoiled convents and churches during the continental wars of the last century; but classical, mythological, and scripture subjects are intermingled in odd confusion, and with “most admired disorder.” The rooms are small and comfortable, with very low ceilings; the prospect from the dining-room is flat and tame; but several of the miniature views, as seen through small openings of the painted window in the library, are remarkably picturesque, and reveal themselves with a pleasing effect to the eye of the artist or the admirer
of natural scenery. The cottage yet contains many articles of furniture and choice rarities, which belonged to the former owners; whose portraits adorn the fanciful little boudoir. Disguised as they are by the strangeness of their costume, we should not like to hazard any opinion of our own as to their personal charms; especially as Miss Seward has been so minutely particular in telling us “all about them.” That clever and amusing gossip says of the “ladies,” whom she rhapsodizes as “the enchantresses” of Plas Newydd—
“Lady Eleanor is of middle height, and somewhat beyond the embonpoint as to plumpness; her face round and fair, with the glow of luxuriant health. She has not fine features, but they are agreeable; enthusiasm in her eye, hilarity and benevolence in her smile. Exhaustless is her fund of historic and traditionary knowledge, and of every thing passing in the present eventful period. She expresses all she feels with an ingenuous ardour, at which, the cold-spirited beings stare. I am informed that both these ladies read and speak most of the modern languages. Of the Italian poets, especially of Dante, they are warm admirers. Miss Ponsonby, somewhat taller than her friend, is neither slender nor otherwise, but very graceful. Easy, elegant, yet pensive, is her address and manner.
“Her voice, like lovers’ watched, is kind and low.”
A face rather long than round, a complexion clear but without bloom, with a countenance which, from its soft melancholy, has a peculiar interest. If her features are not beautiful, they are very sweet and feminine. Though the pensive spirit within permits not her lovely dimples to give mirth to her smile, they increase its sweetness, and, consequently, her power of engaging the affections. We see, through her veil of shading reserve, that all the talents and accomplishments which enrich the mind of Lady Eleanor, exist, with equal powers, in this her charming friend.”
We commend these pen and ink portraits to the notice of our readers without controversy; and the more especially, as they may gratify their curiosity still more in this matter, by purchasing from our Publisher a well-executed engraving representing, with all due fidelity, excellent likenesses of the “Ladies of Llangollen;” each, as Hamlet would say, “in her habit as she lived.”
Among the treasured relics which the cottage now contains, we were shewn the veritable crutch-headed walking stick, on which Lady Eleanor used to support her aged steps, when rambling through the village on errands of mercy, or sauntering among the pleasure grounds of her mountain-home; and we also saw and handled the broad-brimmed hat worn by Miss Ponsonby, whose head we should judge to have been small and finely formed. O for the genius of a Seward, to have written an ode to that venerable head-dress! and in good truth, one might almost fancy we