The colonisation of Denbigh from the north—Denbigh Castle—Sir John o’ the two thumbs—Henry de Lacy—Projected transfer of cathedral to Denbigh—The Goblin Tower—Thomas Plantagenet—Robert Dudley—The bowling green—The Duke of Sussex and his breeches—Sir Hugh Myddelton—Sir Thomas Myddelton—Mrs. Jordan—Her last song—Llanrhaiadr—Anne Parry’s body—“The Three Sisters”—Ruthin—Contest with Owen Glyndwr—Reginald de Grey—Oppressive laws—Dean Gabriel Goodman—The Huail stone—The church—Moel Fenlli—Story of Benlli—Llandegla—Oblations of cocks and hens.

THE county of Denbigh, together with that of Flint, was at one time all but permanently lost to the Celtic race.

The Angles of Mercia had advanced steadily and irresistibly along the broad level land from Chester, planting their stockaded forts where later would arise the stone-walled castles of the Normans, following the banks of the great estuary of the Dee, and supported by their fleets. They reached the mouth of the Clwyd, and began to spread up its fertile basin, driving back the Welsh before them. They had planted a large colony at Conway, and Deganwy, the old palace of the kings of Gwynedd, was in their hands.

Anarawd, son of Rhodri the Great, was king in North Wales, paying to the king of Wessex a reluctant tribute of gold and silver, and the fleetest of Welsh hounds; but he could not roll back the tide of Teutonic invasion, and he was forced to lurk in Snowdon and Anglesey, and look down from the rocky heights and heather-flushed mountains on the smoke of English farms that rose above the ruins of many a burned hendre of his people.

Then an appeal came to him from the Britons of Strathclyde, in North Lancashire and Cumberland, exhausted by the ravages of Danes and Saxons, asking for help. Anarawd could not assist them with armed hand, but he pointed to Flint and the vale of the Clwyd, and invited them to turn out the English there settling themselves, and “not yet warm in their seats.” They rose to the order, migrated in a mass, and dislodged the Angle colonists. But sorely misdoubting their ability to make good their hold, they entreated Anarawd to stand by them. He did so, mustering all the strength of Gwynedd; he joined forces with the Strathclyde immigrants, met the Mercian forces near Conway, and in a pitched battle (878) drove them back to the Dee, with immense slaughter, never to return. And thenceforth Flint and Denbighshire have remained Welsh.

Denbigh stands on a limestone height crowned by a castle, Din-bach, the Little Fortress or Castle. But that is not the popular derivation of the name. A monster, the Bych, occupied a cave in the face of the rock, now almost choked up. Thence it issued to ravage the country, but was killed by Syr Sion y Bodiau, the double-thumbed son of Catherine of Berain. But as Sir John Salusbury lived in the reign of Elizabeth, it is clear that some ancient myth has attached itself to him which belonged originally to a primeval hero. The first certain account of the castle is at the time of the final conquest of the Principality. King Henry III. granted the custody of it to Dafydd ab Gruffydd, that treacherous and unprincipled prince who was the brother of Llewelyn, the last Prince of Wales of the native stock. After the execution of David at Shrewsbury in 1283 the fortress was granted to Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, who erected the present castle.

Old Denbigh occupied the area in front of the castle, but this part was abandoned about the reign of Elizabeth for New Denbigh, built at the foot of the hill, either because there was lack of water on the summit of the rock, or because the steepness of the ascent rendered a residence more convenient lower down. Now the space within the walls is unoccupied save by the little church of S. Hilary, and the ruins of a cathedral begun by the Earl of Leicester, who proposed to transfer thither the seat of the bishop from S. Asaph. But it was not completed. This is to be regretted, as it would have been a most curious specimen of Gothic in its last stage of decay. We have plenty of examples of domestic architecture of the period, and very delightful they are, but of ecclesiastical buildings none. It was a period of church gutting and pulling down, and not of erection and decoration. Henry de Lacy was engaged on building the castle when a fatal accident disheartened him, and he left the work incomplete. He had erected a tower, now called that of the Goblin, over a well with an unfailing spring in it, that was to supply the castle. His son Edmund, a boy of fifteen, was playing in the tower, scrambling among the scaffolding, when he lost his footing, fell to the bottom, and was killed.

The water has now been drawn off to a bath-house outside, at the foot of the rock, and was at one time supposed to possess curative properties.

The dead boy’s spirit is thought still to haunt the tower, and his white face to be seen peeping out of the ruined windows.

Henry de Lacy’s daughter Alice was married to Thomas Plantagenet, Earl of Lancaster, and he by right of his wife became Earl of Denbigh. Edward of Carnarvon had received his father’s instructions before Edward I. died. Of these the principal were: that he should persist in the conquest of Scotland, and should not recall his favourite Piers de Gaveston. These commands were violated by the young King. His first act was to send for Gaveston, and to confer on him the royal earldom of Cornwall; and when, at the coronation of Edward, Gaveston was given precedence over all the great nobles of the realm, their wrath knew no bounds. Three days after the ceremony they called upon the King to dismiss his favourite. Edward was obliged to give way, and Gaveston to swear that he would never return. The Pope, however, released the favourite from his oath, and shortly after Edward recalled him. The Earl of Lancaster and Denbigh refused to attend the next parliament convoked by the King, and the barons, flying to arms, captured Gaveston at Scarborough, and by order of Thomas of Lancaster cut off his head.

The news affected the King with passionate grief, to which was quickly added a fierce desire for revenge.

Some time after the death of Gaveston, Edward found a new favourite, Hugh le Despenser, whose harsh attempt to enforce feudal law to his own advantage excited the marchers of Wales to arms against him. They were joined by Thomas of Lancaster, but he was defeated and taken to Pontefract Castle, where he was executed. Upon his death Denbigh was conferred on Hugh le Despenser.

The incapacity and favouritism of Edward occasioned a fresh outbreak, and Hugh le Despenser fell into the hands of the barons, who hanged him after a hasty trial. Then Denbigh Castle passed to another favourite, Roger Mortimer, the paramour of Queen Isabella. He was taken at Nottingham, arraigned in a Parliament summoned at Winchester, and hanged at Tyburn.

It really seemed that Denbigh was doomed to bring ill-luck on its masters. That ill-luck did not end with the hanging of Mortimer.

In 1566 Elizabeth granted it to her favourite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, whom she created Earl of Denbigh.

His conduct rendered him odious to the inhabitants, and his extortions drove them to open rebellion against his authority. He raised rents from £250 per annum to £800, he levied fines arbitrarily, encroached on private estates, and enclosed commons. Two of the young Salusburys of Lleweni pulled down the fences he had set up on the common land. He had them arrested, taken to Shrewsbury, and hanged there. The exasperation against Leicester became so great that the Queen was compelled to interfere, and he, with a view to make some satisfaction for the evils he had inflicted, began the erection of his cathedral, of which he laid the first stone on March 1st, 1579. But now the fate that had already fallen on three of the holders of Denbigh reached him. He died of poison at the age of fifty-six, on September 5th, 1588. The castle and lordship then reverted to the Crown, and from that time till the commencement of the Civil War drops out of historical importance.

The keep, grand entrance, and Goblin Tower are undoubtedly the work of Henry de Lacy. The gateway is best preserved, and over the entrance in a niche is a mutilated statue of Edward I., with lovely ball-pattern sculpture in the mouldings of the niche enclosing it.

The views from the castle over the Vale of Clwyd are most beautiful; none finer than from the bowling green. That was inaugurated by the Duke of Sussex in 1829.

During the carouse on that occasion, that took place in the arbour, His Royal Highness had the misfortune to spill a glass of punch over his lap. As his breeches were white, and he had not another pair with him, he was constrained to retire to bed till a local tailor could fit him out afresh. When the august visitor to Denbigh re-emerged into the streets, lo! already had the little tailor inscribed over his shop: “By Special Appointment, Richard Price, Breeches-maker to his R.H. the Duke of Sussex.”

There are two modern churches in Denbigh. The old parish church, S. Marchell’s, is at Whitchurch, about a mile out of the town. S. Hilary’s, in Old Denbigh, was only the castle chapel. S. Marchell’s is a good fifteenth-century building, and is now used as a mortuary chapel. The roofs are specially fine. In it is the tomb of Sir John “of the double thumbs.” He was a man of enormous strength, and is reported to have killed a white lioness in the Tower by a blow of his fist. He died in 1578. In the porch are two brasses of Richard Myddelton, of Gwaenynog, Governor of Denbigh Castle in the reigns of Edward VI., Mary, and Elizabeth, and of his wife Jane. Denbigh was the native place of Hugh Myddelton, who, largely at his own expense, brought the New River from Ware, twenty miles distant, to London. He was the sixth son of the above-mentioned Richard, and was a goldsmith in Basinghall Street. His elder brother Thomas was a grocer—so little in those days was trade thought to be unsuitable for men of gentle birth and good position. He represented Denbigh in Parliament several times, and obtained a charter of incorporation for his native town. A proper supply of pure water to the Metropolis had often been canvassed by the corporation, and the wells were frequently contaminated and productive of periodical outbreaks of fever.

Myddelton declared himself ready to carry out the great work, and in 1609 “the dauntless Welshman” began his undertaking. The engineering difficulties were not all he had to contend with, for he had to overcome violent opposition from the landowners, who drew a harrowing picture of the evils that would result were his scheme carried through, as they contended, for his own private benefit. Worried by this senseless but powerful party, with a vast and costly labour only half completed, and with the probability of funds failing, most men would have broken down in bankruptcy and despair. But James I. came to his aid and agreed to furnish one half of the expense if he were granted one half of the ultimate profits. This spirited act of the King silenced opposition, the work went on, and in about fifteen months after this new contract the water was brought into London.

The popular story is that Myddelton ruined himself by this undertaking, and had to apply for relief of his necessities to the citizens of London, who, however, failed to unbutton their pockets for their benefactor. He fell into poverty, and disguising himself under the name of Raymond, laboured as a common pavior in Shropshire.

This is, however, a myth. After the completion of his great achievement for the benefit of London, Sir Hugh reclaimed Brading Harbour, in the Isle of Wight, and undertook the working of Welsh mines, whose tin and lead brought in a large revenue, but he sank much money unprofitably in looking for coal near Denbigh. He died at the age of seventy-six, leaving large sums to his children, and an ample provision to his widow. When James I. created him a baronet he remitted the customary fees, amounting to over a thousand pounds—a very large sum of money in those days.

But he was not the only Myddelton who was a benefactor. In 1595 his brother Sir Thomas purchased Chirk Castle and Denbigh from the Crown. He provided the Welsh “nation” (in 1630) with the first portable edition of the Scriptures at his own expense. His brother William gave the Welsh a metrical version of the Psalms.

In Nantglyn, at Plas, five miles from Denbigh, was born Mrs. Jordan the actress, if we may trust local authorities. She made her first appearance at Drury Lane in 1785, and appeared as Peggy in The Country Girl, driving her audience frantic with delight. How she could act in serious parts Charles Lamb has described in one of the most exquisite passages of the Essays of Elia. According to some accounts, she was not Welsh, but Irish; but this opinion seems to be due to her having made her dÉbut at Dublin. Her real name was Dorothy Bland, but she assumed the name of Frances. To her we owe “The Blue Bells of Scotland,” one of those rare instances of a woman composing a melody that has taken hold and remained. It is curious that a Welsh girl—or Irish, if the Waterford claims to her be maintained—should have contributed a national air to Scotland. Mrs. Jordan was not really beautiful, but she had a most engaging manner and expression of face. Her voice was not only sweet, but her articulation was distinct. The last song she sang in public on the stage was—

“Last night the dogs did bark,

I went to the gate to see,

And ev’ry lass has her spark,

But nobody’s coming for me.

O dear! what can the matter be?

O dear! what shall I do?

Nobody’s coming to marry me,

Nobody’s coming to woo!”

—one of those delightful English airs that will never die. This was shortly before her eldest son, George Fitzclarence, was born—January 29th, 1794.

Mrs. Jordan acquired a good deal of money by her profession, and she was not an extravagant person. She had a large family, and was a good mother. A person who had married one of her daughters had involved her in a debt of £2,000, and this so preyed on her spirits that it shortened her days. She withdrew from England and settled at S. Cloud, near Paris, and died there July 5th, 1816, aged fifty, and is buried at S. Cloud.

Llanrhaiadr is three miles from Denbigh. The church has some fine old glass in the east window, representing a Jesse tree. There is a wonderful genealogical tombstone in the churchyard to a certain John ap Robert, ap David, ap Gruffydd, ap David Vaughan, and so on back to Cadell Deyrnllwg, king of Powys.

A curious story is connected with an interment in this churchyard.

“Anne Parry had opened her house for the preaching of the Methodists in this place, and originated a Sunday-school in the neighbouring village. She ended a life of laborious benevolence by a peaceful death, and forty-three years after her decease, on the occasion of her son’s burial in the same tomb, her coffin was opened, and the body of this excellent woman was found to be in a perfect state of preservation, undecayed in the slightest degree, and her countenance bearing the hues of living health. The very flowers which had been strewed upon her body, it is said, were as fresh in colour, and as fragrant in odour, as when they were first plucked from their native boughs. The body of this lady was exhumed about three years afterwards (in 1841), and was nearly in the same state of preservation. This was corroborated by the mayor of Ruthin in 1841. The compiler of this account received the same information on the very day the lady had been re-interred, not only from the parish clerk and the mayor of Ruthin, but from several other parties who saw the body.”[4]

Some allowance must be made for exaggeration here. That a body in certain undetermined circumstances may remain undecomposed is doubtless true, but the statement relative to the flowers must be dismissed as impossible.

Between Denbigh and Ruthin, and three miles from the latter, is Llanynys. Here, at Bachymbyd, an ancient mansion, are “The Three Sisters,” noble chestnuts planted by the three daughters of Sir William Salusbury. The property passed into the hands of Sir Walter Bagot through a singular circumstance. He had been shooting in the neighbourhood, and a favourite pointer strayed, and he could not recover it. Some time after Sir William Salusbury found the dog, and sent it to Sir Walter with his compliments. This led to an exchange of compliments, and next time Sir Walter Bagot was in the neighbourhood he called at Bachymbyd to express his gratitude. He there met the daughters of Sir William, and fell in love with one of them, proposed, and was accepted. Before the lady left for her new home she and her sisters planted these trees.

Ruthin is a pleasant little town, with its castle, but the latter is not old, having been almost wholly rebuilt. Portions of the earlier castle still remain.

The castle was founded in 1281 by Edward I., and was granted to Reginald de Grey. This man did his utmost to exasperate the Welsh to fresh insurrection, and Peckham, Archbishop of Canterbury, made a journey into Wales to mediate between the King and Llewelyn, and allay the irritation. He complained to Edward, but in vain, of the rapacity of Reginald, whom he accused of committing the most flagrant acts of injustice, of depriving officers of the places they had purchased and of commissions that had been granted to them, of revoking just sentences when they jarred with his interests, and of compelling the peasantry to plough his lands without wages.

A contest about a common called Croesau, between Ruthin and Glyndyfrdwy, led to the insurrection of Owen Glyndwr.

During the reign of Richard II. a controversy had arisen relative to rights over this common. Reginald de Grey, who held Ruthin Castle, had claimed it. Owen disputed the claim, and gained his suit in a court of law. But no sooner was the usurper Henry of Lancaster on the throne than De Grey took possession of the common. Glyndwr appealed to Parliament, but his appeal was dismissed. Not satisfied with this infringement of his neighbour’s rights, De Grey resolved on utterly ruining him. Henry had summoned Owen among his barons to attend him on his expedition to Scotland, and had confided the summons to De Grey to deliver. De Grey treacherously withheld it, and then represented Owen as wilfully disobedient. Owen was accordingly sentenced, unheard, to be deprived of his lands, and De Grey seized them.

The Bishop of S. Asaph appealed to Parliament against this injustice, but in vain; and he warned it against the imprudence of exasperating an honourable and loyal man of extended influence, and driving him into rebellion to maintain his just rights. But the Lords scoffingly replied that “they had no fear of that pack of rascally, bare-footed scrubs.”

De Grey surrounded Owen’s house, but failed to capture him. He had attempted a most treacherous plan. He sent to Owen to offer to dine with him and talk over matters for a reconciliation. Owen consented on condition that De Grey came with only thirty followers, and these unarmed. De Grey accepted the terms, but ordered a large force to approach and surround the house while he was within. Glyndwr, however, knew his man, and he had set his bard Iolo Goch to watch. Iolo saw the approach of men-at-arms, so entering the hall he struck his harp and sang:—

“Think of Lleweni’s chief, no slight
A murder on a Christmas night.
The blazing wrath of Shrewsbury keep,
The burning head’s avenging heap.”

Owen took the hint; he escaped.

Owen now proclaimed himself Prince of Wales, and called on all true-hearted Welshmen to rally to his standard. His first exploit was the capture of Ruthin in September, 1400. His men had concealed themselves in the thickets of Coed Marchan, near the town, and when the gates were thrown open for a fair, some made their way within disguised as peasants, and kept the gates open for their confederates. Glyndwr’s men rushed in, fired the town in four places, and slaughtered every Englishman they met. Then, laden with booty, they retreated to the mountains. Lord de Grey collected a force and marched against Glyndwr, but fell into an ambush, and was taken and carried off to the wilds of Snowdon, where Owen, before he would let him depart, forced him to marry his daughter Jane and to pay for his ransom 10,000 marks, which compelled him to sell his manor of Hadleigh, in Kent.

It was in consequence of Glyndwr’s insurrection that the parliament of 1401 passed a series of the most oppressive and cruel ordinances ever enacted against any people—prohibiting the Welsh from acquiring lands by purchase, from holding any corporate offices, from bearing arms in any town; ordering that in lawsuits between an Englishman and Welshman, the former could only be convicted by English juries; disfranchising every English citizen who should marry a Welshwoman, and forbidding Welshmen to bring up their children to any liberal art, or apprentice them to any trade in any town or borough of the realm.

The barony of Grey de Ruthin was made out by patent to Reginald and to his heirs, without specifying that these should be males; it is therefore one of the few that devolve through heiresses.

In S. Peter’s Square is the picturesque timber and plaster house in which was born Gabriel Goodman, Dean of Westminster for nearly the whole of Elizabeth’s reign, and one of Bishop Morgan’s helpers in the translation of the Bible into Welsh. In front of it, built into the platform, is the Maen Huail. On this stone, according to tradition, King Arthur cut off the head of Huail, brother of Gildas. He was a quarrelsome, turbulent man, who, instead of serving against the Saxons, was engaged in broils against King Arthur. But his death was due to another cause.

Huail was imprudent enough to court a lady of whom Arthur was enamoured. The king’s suspicions were aroused and his jealousy excited; he armed himself secretly, and intercepted Huail on his way to the lady’s house. Some angry words passed between them, and they fought. After a sharp combat Huail wounded Arthur in the thigh, whereupon the contest ceased, and reconciliation was made on the condition that Huail should never reproach Arthur with the advantage he had obtained over him. Arthur returned to his palace at Caerwys, in Flintshire, to be cured of his wound. He recovered, but it caused him to limp slightly ever after. A short time after his recovery Arthur fell in love with a lady at Ruthin, and in order to enjoy her society disguised himself in female attire, and so got among her companions. One day when this lady and her maids and the disguised Arthur were dancing together, Huail saw him. He recognised him at once, and with a sneer on his lips said “the dancing might pass muster but for the stiff thigh.” Arthur overheard the remark, and exasperated at the allusion, and at having been detected in such an undignified disguise, withdrew from the dance, and after having assumed his royal robes, summoned Huail before him, and ordered his head to be struck off in the midst of Ruthin, on the stone that now bears his name.

Gildas was in Ireland at the time; he at once hasted to Wales, where he raised such a storm, and roused so many enemies against Arthur, that the king was obliged to compromise matters, and he made over to Gildas and his family some lands in Denbighshire as blood-fine, after which Gildas gave him the kiss of peace.

Ruthin Church is puzzling at first sight. It was made collegiate in 1310 by John, son of Reginald de Grey. It consisted originally of two churches, the parochial church of S. Peter, formed of one long nave and tower, and beyond the tower the collegiate church.

“The choir being destroyed,” says the late Professor Freeman, “the tower forms the extreme eastern portion of the northern body. Though the upper part has been rebuilt, the arches on which it rests happily remain unaltered. In this lies the great singularity of the church. There are not, and never could have been, any transepts, but still arches, almost like those of a lantern, are thrown across the north and south sides. These, however, are merely constructive or decorative, as it is clear they never were open. This arrangement is exceedingly rare.”

The roof is said to have been given by Henry VII. when he bought the lordship of Dyffryn Clwyd. On it are nearly five hundred different devices. An aisle has been added to the church, much altering its character.

In the chancel is the tombstone of one John Parry, 1636, with the inscription “Hic jacet et (sedes cum sua) jure jacet.” (“Here he lies, and since the pew is his own, he lies here by right.”)

The range of the Clwydian Hills to the east is in several places surmounted by camps, that have been occupied by succeeding peoples, for in some are found flint weapons, bronze, later Roman ware and coins, and even mediÆval pottery.

The highest point is Moel Famma. Moel Fenlli is the nearest to Ruthin, and takes its name from Benlli, king of Powys, who was supplanted by Cadell Deyrnllwg. He is reported to have retired to this stronghold. The story is this.

Germanus—not, I hold, the Bishop of Auxerre, but his namesake, a nephew of S. Patrick, and finally Bishop of Man—was in western Britain. He came to Pengwern or Shrewsbury, and asked to be admitted. But Benlli refused, and Germanus was forced to spend the night outside the walls. A servant of Benlli, named Cadell, disregarding his master’s orders, furnished the saint and his party with food. According to the legend, fire fell from heaven and consumed the town, and Benlli escaped with difficulty. Then Germanus set up Cadell to be king of Powys in his room.

What seems actually to have happened was that Benlli, with the pagan party, clung to the side of Vortigern, and Germanus, stirred up Cadell, a petty prince of Powys, against him, and that Pengwern was taken, and Cadell elevated to be king in the room of Benlli.

Legend has been busy with the deposed king. It is said that in his camp he suffered tortures from rheumatism and wild-fire, and that he sought relief from S. Cynhafal, patron of Llangynhafal hard by, who refused it to him, as he was a renegade to paganism. Then Benlli in his pain sought ease in the cooling waters of the River Alun, but the stream likewise refused its aid, and dived underground. Again Benlli plunged in, and the water dived again. He tried a third time, and the river a third time retreated below the surface. The story has been invented to explain the fact that the Alun actually does thrice disappear in its bed.

At Derwen, in the church, there is a good screen, but the finest of all in this district is that of Llanrwst. In most of the Welsh screens the openings are rectangular, with some dainty tracery introduced at the top. But at Llanrwst the openings are pointed. In the Devon and Cornish and Somersetshire screens these openings are mere Perpendicular windows, and all in each screen are alike in tracery, and this tracery is very much the same in all. But at Llanrwst the design in each window of the screen is different; there are, however, no mullions. The face of the rood-loft is also rich, and only needs the filling in of the niches with figures to make it complete.

Llandegla is interesting only on account of its spring, now all but choked up, on Gwern Degla, about two hundred yards from the church. Pennant in his Tours writes:—

“The water is under the tutelage of the Saint (S. Tecla); and to this day is held to be extremely beneficial in the clwyf Tegla, S. Tecla’s disease, or the falling sickness. The patient washes his limbs in the well, makes an offering into it of fourpence, walks round it three times, and thrice repeats the Lord’s Prayer. These ceremonies are never begun till after sunset. If the afflicted be of the male sex, he makes an offering of a cock; if of the fair sex, of a hen. The fowl is carried in a basket, first round the well, after that into the churchyard, when the same orisons, and the same circumambulations are performed round the church. The votary then enters the church, gets under the Communion Table, lies down with the Bible under his or her head, is covered with the carpet or cloth, and rests there till break of day; departing after offering sixpence, and leaving the fowl in the church. If the bird dies, the cure is supposed to have been effected, and the disease transferred to the devoted victim.”

This is now a thing of the past. But the oblation of cocks and hens still goes on in Brittany. At Carnoet, near Carhaix, is a chapel of S. Gildas. At his pardon in January the peasants bring fowls, and in the chapel are three ranges of hutches, in which they are placed, and where they remain clucking and crowing during Mass, so that often the voice of the celebrant is drowned. After service the fowls are sold by auction, and the money obtained goes for the maintenance of the chapel. On the floor of the chapel is a stone sarcophagus, in which sick people were wont to lie in the hopes of thereby recovering. It was, one would suppose, kill or cure. They also offered a cock or hen, but this has gone out of use in Brittany as in Wales. No one now sleeps under the altar at Llandegla, or in the stone coffin at Carnoet.