Gwydir Castle.—Llanrwst Shaking Bridge.—Inn.—Town Hall.—Free Schools.—Alms Houses.—Rhaiadr y Parc Mawr.—Llyn Geirionydd.—Taliesin.—Trevriw.—Slate Quarries.—Conway.—The Suspension Bridge.—The Castle.—Local Customs.—Excursion to the Orme’s Head.

“On a rock whose haughty brow
Frowned o’er old Conway’s foaming flood,
Rob’d in a sable garb of woe,
With haggard eye, the poet stood.”

Gray.

Within half a mile from the town of Llanrwst is

GWYDIR CASTLE,

the property of Lord Willoughby d’Eresby, a family mansion of no very attractive appearance. It is situated on the right of the road which winds between it and a lofty wood-clad precipice, called Carreg y Gwalch, or the Rock of the Falcon. It was built by John Wynne ab Meredydd, in 1555, and has lately undergone some alteration. The breakfast parlour contains a curious carving of the arms of the Gwydir family, supported by Julius CÆsar and Augustus; the former holding his commentaries in one hand, and his sword in the other; the latter, his sword only. The dining room has some specimens of carving, that are worthy of observation; but throughout the mansion there is very little of what belonged to it originally. The chairs, panelling, and even tables, being coloured for the purpose of giving the apartments the appearance of antique splendour, which, until lately, they wanted.

The drawing-room is spacious and lofty, and is lighted by a double row of windows, which gives it a heavy look: this unusual arrangement was caused by the removal of the dormitory, to give height to this room. Over the fire-place is a finely executed carving of Julius CÆsar in oak. At the N.W. end of the room, a piece of tapestry represents a vintage, and at the S.E. another specimen of needlework commemorates the landing of Charles the Fifth at Grenada.

The coronation chair of George the Second is shewn in this apartment, and the footstool used by Queen Caroline on her trial at Westminster Hall. There is a centre table, very richly ornamented with carved work; and another, which in shape exactly resembles the slab and pedestal of a tombstone, so that the visitor naturally enough walks up to it, expecting to see the customary “Hic jacet,” &c.

The cradle of Sir Richard Wynne, bearing the date of 1634, completes the list of curiosities contained in this room.

The garden, which is extensive, contains some valuable plants and shrubs, and the terrace is a pleasant promenade, sloping from which are beds of beautiful flowers, of various classes and descriptions. After satisfying the housekeeper with a trifling gratuity, I proceeded to Llanrwst, but halted upon the bridge to take a view of the Conwy, (over which beautiful river its arches expand) and the town to which it leads. I was here accosted by an old man, who asked me, “if I should like to feel the bridge shake?” As I answered in the affirmative, he desired me to place my back against the side over the centre arch, and striking the opposite parapet rather heavily with his own, a tremulous motion was distinctly felt; on this account it is called the Shaking Bridge. It was built in 1636, from a plan of the celebrated Inigo Jones, and cost £1000, which was defrayed by the counties of Denbighshire and Carnarvonshire, which it unites.

LLANRWST

is built upon the Denbighshire side of the river. The Three Eagles is the most commodious inn in the town; and, being rather fatigued, I threw my limbs upon a sofa, and resigned myself to the drowsy god, first taking especial care to order a substantial repast to be in readiness for me on my return from the land of Nod. My last waking recollection was the words of Mr. Lover’s favourite song,

“There’s no use at all in my going to bed,
For its dhrames and not sleep, that comes into my head.”

Dreams, however, did not picture my slumbers, and I awoke to the unrivalled delight of a weary and hungry traveller—an excellent hot dinner.The following morning I employed in paying my respects to the different gentlemen to whom I had letters, and in gaining what information I could respecting the objects most worthy of notice in the town and surrounding neighbourhood.

The church and chapel adjoining were the first subjects to engage my attention. In the former there is nothing interesting, excepting an oaken screen, exquisitely carved, which was taken from the Abbey of Maenan, the gallery for the singers being above it. On the opposite side is the

GWYDIR CHAPEL.

This beautiful structure was erected in the year 1633, by Sir Richard Wynne, of Gwydir, from a design of Inigo Jones, and was for many years the burial place of the illustrious family of Gwydir. At the sides of the chapel, fixed in panels of wood, are several engravings on brass, illustrative of the personages who are interred below; and in the east corner is a tablet of white marble, containing the following remarkable pedigree, comprising a period of 500 years.

“This chapel was erected A.D. 1633, by Sir Richard Wynne, of Gwydir, in the county of Carnarvon, Knight and Baronet; Treasurer to the High and Mighty Princess Henrietta Maria, Queen of England, Daughter of Henry the Fourth, King of France, and wife to our Sovereign Lord King Charles; where lieth buried his father Sir John Wynne, of Gwydir, Knight and Baronet, son and heir to Morris Wynne, son and heir to John Wynne, son and heir to Meredith Wynne, which three lie buried in the church of Dolwyddelen, with tombs over them. This Meredith was son and heir to Evan, son and heir to Robert, son and heir to Meredith, son and heir to Howell, son and heir to David, son and heir to Griffith, son and heir to Cradock, son and heir to Roderick, Lord of Anglesea, son to Owen Gwynneth, Prince of Wales, and younger brother to David, Prince of Wales who married Emma Plantagenet, sister to King Henry the Second. There succeeded this David three princes; his nephew Leolinus Magnus, who married Joan, daughter to King John,—David, his son, nephew to King Henry the Third,—and Llewelyn the last Prince of Wales of that house and line, who lived in King Edward the First’s time. Sir John Wynne married Sydney, who lyeth buried here, daughter of Sir William Gerrard, Knight, Lord Chancellor of Ireland, by whom he had issue, Sir John Wynne, who died at Lucca, in Italy, Sir Richard Wynne, now living, Thomas Wynne, who lyeth here, Owen Wynne, now living, Robert Wynne, who lyeth here, Roger Wynne, who lyeth here, William Wynne, now living, Maurice Wynne, now living, Ellis Wynne, who lyeth buried at Whitford, in the County of Flint, Henry Wynne, now living, Roger Wynne, who lyeth here, and two daughters, Mary, now living, married to Sir Roger Mostyn, in the County of Flint, Knight, and Elizabeth, now living, married to Sir John Bodville, in the County of Carnarvon, Knight.”

Beneath this is a superb engraving of Dame Sarah Wynne, one of the daughters of the old Chevalier Sir Thomas Myddelton, of Chirk Castle, and wife of the above-mentioned Sir Richard Wynne; she died June 16th, 1671. This piece of engraving was executed by one William Vaughan, in a style of elegance hardly to be met with, and may be justly reckoned among the first productions of the age in which he lived.

On the south side are two stately pyramidal columns of variegated marble, decorated with martial insignia; one to the memory of Meredith Wynne, the other to Sir John Wynne and Sydney his wife; on their pedestals are Latin inscriptions on black marble which have been thus translated:—

“To the Memory of Meredith Wynne, a descendant of Owen Gwynedd, Prince of Wales, who under happy auspices, founded the House of Gwydir, removed and endowed the Church of Sant Gwyddelen, during the third Tournean expedition, in the fifth year of Henry the Eighth. He died in the month of March, 1525.”

“To the Memory of John Wynne of Gwydir, Knight and Baronet, with Sydney the daughter of William Gerrard, Knight, Chancellor of the Kingdom of Ireland, the wife of his youth, to whom she bore eleven sons and two daughters; they lie here waiting the appearance of Christ in Glory.”

Between the above monuments is a small tablet of white marble to the memory of John Wynne ab Meredith with a Latin inscription to the following effect:—

“John Wynne ab Meredith,
an inheritor of his Father’s virtues, a just and pious
man, to whom Euna, his wife, brought five
sons and two daughters. He died
the 9th of July, 1559.”

On the floor is a stone effigy in armour, with the feet resting on a lion couchant, of Howel Coetmore ap Gruffydd Vychan ap Dafydd Gam, alias GÔch, natural son to David, Prince of Wales, from whose descendants according to tradition, Gwydir was purchased by the Wynnes.

Near to the effigy of Howel Coetmore is the under-part of a stone coffin in which Llewelyn ab Iorwerth, surnamed the Great, the son-in-law of King John, was buried at the Abbey of Conwy; to the coffin is fixed a piece of brass with this inscription:—

“This is the coffin of Leolinus Magnus, Prince
of Wales, who was buried at the Abbey of
Conwy, which upon the dissolution
was removed thence.”

On going from the chapel to the church, you pass over a large square flag of free stone, having on its sides a Latin inscription thus translated:—

“To the Memory of the Sons of John Wynne of Gwydir, Knight and Baronet, who died during their father’s life time; John, Knight, was buried at Lucca, in the free State of Italy, in the year of his age 30, of our Lord 1613. Robert, who had entered into holy orders, in the year of his age 24, of our Lord 1617. Thomas, Roger, Thomas, in their minority.—Death! a vapour! Behold! we have existed.”

In the chancel, between the reading desk and the communion table, is a flag of free stone on the remains of Margaret Vaughan, heiress of Caergai; she was esteemed the Sappho of her age; many of her poetical productions are still extant.

The gallery over the reading desk is said to have been removed here from the Abbey of Aberllechog, or Maenan Abbey, upon the dissolution of that religious house.

The Coffin of Leolinus Magnus

Under the reading desk in the Church, in a pew belonging to Kyffdy, is a Latin epitaph to the memory of Griffith Lloyd, of Bruniog, Rector of this parish; this is said to have been written by himself, and has been much admired for its singularity: it runs thus:—

“Once the undeserving School-master,
Then the more undeserving Lecturer,
And last of all, the most undeserving Rector of this Parish.
Do not think, speak, or write any thing evil of the dead.”

There is a Market Hall, Town Hall, Free Schools, and Alms Houses. The latter were erected by Sir John Wynne, in 1610, and received the name of Jesus Hospital. He endowed them for the reception of twelve poor men, by ceding the rectorial tithes of Eglwys VÂch, which are valued at £200 per annum. Within a mile of Llanrwst there is a spring, which is much esteemed for its healthful qualities. The water is soft, and a drop of sal-volatile mixed with a cup of it turns it white as milk, while oil of tartar causes it to assume a pearl colour. If during the tourist’s visit to Llanrwst there should chance to fall much rain, I would advise him by all means to view the cataract called

RHAIADR Y PARC MAWR,

in the valley of Nant Bwlch yr Haiarn, near Gwydir, but otherwise the minuteness of the stream occasions no extraordinary effect from this fall, which is about one hundred feet in height. The chief object of interest, however, in this vicinity, is the celebrated lake, called

LLYN GEIRIONYDD,

upon the borders of which once lived the chief of the Welsh bards, Taliesin. At the eastern side of the lake is a mound, upon the summit of which there is a kind of hollow, and in it are the remains of an ancient edifice, which was probably the residence of Taliesin, in the reign of Maelgwn Gwynedd, King of Britain. Taliesin when an infant was found by Prince Elphin by the side of a wear belonging to his father, Gwyddno Garanhir, Lord of Cantrev Gwaelod. The Prince fostered the infant, and had it liberally educated; and, at a proper age, introduced him to the court of his father, Gwyddno. Upon this occasion, Taliesin presented the king with a poem, the subject of which was his own history, and another to the prince, which he called Dyhuddiant Elphin, or the consolation of Elphin, a translation of which is in Evan’s Specimens of Welsh Poetry. Taliesin had an opportunity of being serviceable to his benefactor; for once, when the Prince was imprisoned by his uncle, Maelgwn, in the castle of Dyganwy, the magic of his muse effected his release. This celebrated bard was the preceptor of Merddin ab Morvryn, and to him the lovers of poetry are indebted for five new metres, while the historian and antiquary are equally benefited by his accurate description of the manners and customs of the Ancient Britons.

I quitted Llanrwst on the following morning, and took the road to Conwy; two miles and a half brought me to the pretty village of

TREVRIW,

which presents an animated scene. It is situated upon the banks of the beautiful river Conwy, which is navigable up to this point for vessels of fifty tons burthen, that supply the town and neighbourhood with coals, lime, groceries, &c., &c., and return laden with slate, supplied from the adjacent mines and quarries. A number of small boats, called coracles, used by the fishermen, are seen studding the delightful stream, while the larger vessels, towed against the wind or sailing before it, present a pleasing picture. From this place to Conwy there is nothing particularly to attract attention, until you arrive within a mile of that celebrated town, when, from the brow of a hill, is obtained a view of the venerable fortress erected by the first Edward, and the strongly fortified walls, completely encompassing the town, and strengthened by massive towers. They are coeval with the castle, and are built in the form of a Welsh harp, like those of Carnarvon; but here there are no environs, and the town presents the same appearance as when the chivalric monarch first fortified it.

CONWY.

The town derives its name from Cyn (chief) and Wy river.

The principal inn is the Castle, which affords every accommodation the traveller can desire. The Wynnes are celebrated here, as in all parts of North Wales. In the interior of the town stands PlÂs Mawr, which was erected in 1585, and is still a remarkable structure; its founder was Robert Wynne, of Gwydir, the uncle of Sir John Wynne, the historian. Over the grand entrance is inscribed, in Greek characters “bear and forbear,” over which in Roman characters, “J. H. S. X. P. S.” (Jesus Hominum Salvator et Populi Salus.) The Old College is in Castle Street, and the Church is built from the remains of the ancient Cistercian Abbey, which was founded here by Llewelyn ab Iorwerth, 1185. It contains a rich baptismal font of gothic structure, with a tablet to the memory of Nicholas Hookes, of the town of Conwy, who was the forty-first child of William and Alice Hookes, and who was himself the father of twenty-seven children.

During my short stay in Conwy, I endeavoured to discover the best view of the town, which, I think, is from the eastern side of the river, about midway between the chain bridge and the mansion of Dyganwy. Nothing can be more interesting. The variety of small craft, sailing and anchored, before its warlike screen; the castle, with its towers and turrets, rising in hostile grandeur upon its rocky base; the bridges, and lovely scenery beyond of purple hills and thriving villages; and the bright waters sporting with the luxuriant foliage of its woody margin, create a sensation of delight in the pursuer of picturesque scenery which he has probably seldom before experienced.

Conwy Castle

Another delightful view may be obtained by ascending the rock which overhangs the lodge of the suspension bridge upon its eastern side. This very beautiful specimen of art has however lost a great portion of its attraction since the completion of the more wonderful structure of the Tubular Bridge, which, like a mighty conqueror, looks proudly conscious of its own importance, and compels the former to take a secondary position in the estimation of the visitor. It consists of only one span of 400 feet, and two abutments of masonry, which are in perfect harmony with the venerable appearance of the Castle. But the chief object of interest is the Castle, which surpasses in picturesque grandeur any building of the kind I ever beheld. I thought Carnarvon Castle the most beautiful of ruins, but it is not, in my opinion, to be compared with Conwy. The solidity of its structure, and its expansive site, resembling the fortresses of Syria and the Holy Land, give to its exterior all that the most romantic imagination could desire. Its foundation is a rock of slate, and its works are impregnable. Nothing but famine could, at the time it was erected, have had power to subdue it. Its walls are from ten to twelve feet in thickness, and it had formerly a deep and broad moat, on the west and north-west sides; which, with the sea washing its base on the east and south, formed insurmountable barriers to the assailants.

It was evening when I first entered this noble ruin. The porteress very ungraciously left me to my meditations after admitting me, locking the gate after her, and leaving me like a state prisoner in the royal fortress. I confess I was little pleased with the manners of my conductress, and the solitary situation in which I was placed, and sensations arose within me like those which a school boy feels when passing a churchyard at midnight. The sun had set, and the deep shadows of eve were darkening into night, as I stood alone in the court yard, and flitting visions arose before me of those who had crossed its space in distant by-gone ages—“the plumed troops,” and courtly dames, and all the glitter of the olden times. As I thus stood amongst the ruins, a deep drawn sigh, close by my ear, made my heart leap into my throat, as I turned to discover from whence it proceeded. But all was solitude around. The huge festoons of ivy, unruffled by a breath of air hung in funereal grandeur on the walls. As I passed into what had been the banqueting hall, the darkness increased. It was a noble apartment, and measured 130 feet in length, and thirty in breadth, in height twenty. Nine windows looked southward, up the river, and two into the courtyard. In the recesses were stone seats, capable of accommodating twelve persons; and, as I seated myself in one of these, my delusion of other days came over me. Here sat the first Edward, the hero of Palestine; here was the monarch besieged, and almost reduced by famine; here Hotspur and King Richard held a conference; and the latter, putting himself into the power of Northumberland, was betrayed by him, and sent a prisoner to the usurper, Bolingbroke.

“Life’s but a walking shadow—a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more!”

As I made this apt quotation, another deep and heavy sigh, and a rustling in the ivy, startled me, and the bird of solitude, the lonely owl, flapped his heavy wings, and flew past me to a remoter corner of the ruined hall. I arose, and walked to a small chamber, where there was an open ornamented casement, and which, as I was afterwards informed, bears the name of the Queen’s Oriel; from which there is a pleasant prospect of part of the ruin and scenery beyond.I then proceeded to the terrace, at the south-western extremity, which is on the surface of the rock, and the prospect from this spot, interesting at all times, is doubly so by moonlight. The suspension and tubular bridges beneath, the ocean on the left, and this fertile valley on the right, with the sparkling Conwy meandering through it, compose a scene of unexampled beauty.

In the year 1290, when Edward was engaged in a dispute with the King of France, and was determined to revenge himself upon that potentate, in order to obtain supplies, he made the experiment of taxing his newly-acquired Welsh subjects; which they resented by hanging Roger de Pulesdon, who had been appointed to collect the tax; and by defeating the English forces, who attempted to enforce them. Alarmed at a revolt, which was now rising into importance, and which threatened to wrest from him his new dominions, Edward entered North Wales, to conduct the war in person. Having proceeded in his march to Conwy, he crossed that arm of the sea with a part of his forces, and retiring into the castle with them, awaited the arrival of the remainder. In his passage he lost many waggons, and other carriages loaded with provisions, which were intercepted by the Welsh, who came down in multitudes from the mountains, and invested the castle upon the land side, while a sudden rise in the Conwy, which prevented his troops from crossing the river and rendering him assistance, made his situation extremely alarming. He was surrounded by water and the enemy, cut off from his army, and threatened with famine. The good fortune of Edward, however, returned to him in the hour of need. The river subsided, and his forces being able to cross to his relief, the Welsh again retired to the mountains, and the English monarch passed his Christmas holidays without interruption at the castle.

In 1665, the Earl of Conwy, under pretence of its being for his majesty’s service, stripped the castle of all its furniture, iron, and lead, and shipped them off to Ireland, otherwise it might have remained as firm and entire at the present day, as when it was first erected. If these Goths were aware of the ignominy they attached to their shields by acts so disgraceful, they might perhaps have permitted beauty and grandeur to remain undefiled by their sacrilegious touch.

The young men still keep up many of the ancient local customs; amongst which, on Nos Calanmai, or, the eve of the first of May, they hang on the houses of their sweethearts bunches of rosemary and ribbons.

At the door of a prude they tie a penglog, or part of a horse’s skeleton. There is likewise a custom preserved called Stocsio. Upon Easter Sunday, a great number of boys and men assemble on Pentwthil, with wands of gorse, to proclaim the laws and regulations which are to be observed upon the following morning. The last married person is sought to perform this office, who, mounted on a heap of stones, issues his mandate, while the rest listen with silent attention. He decrees that all men under sixty years of age are to appear in the street before six o’clock on the following morning; and all under forty, before four; and all under twenty are commanded not to go to bed at all, under penalty of being put into the stocks. The orator then descends, amidst loud cheering, and the assembled parties separate; the younger branches to form plans of amusement, and the graver to secure their carts, waggons, and wheelbarrows, with chains and locks, to prevent their being seized upon the following day; a very necessary precaution, as every vehicle, unchained, or otherwise unsecured, is sure of being pressed before dawn of day into the service of the light-hearted youths, who are not over careful of their neighbours’ property during the uproarious period of their festivity. Early in the morning, the stocks are placed at one end of the street, and a party, marching to the inspiring music of a drum and fife, parade the town, in order to convey to the place of punishment all seceders from this ancient law of custom. When they arrive at a house where a rebel resides, the storming party endeavour, by all practicable means, to gain admittance; such as climbing in at the windows, forcing open the back door, &c., and they generally secure the culprit; who, if he be caught in bed, is allowed sufficient time to dress himself, and then hurried away to the stocks, amid the exulting shouts of the assembled multitude. His feet being secured, one of the party gives him a severe lecture upon the sin of idleness, and of breaking old established customs. Then taking his right hand, he puts questions to him; such as, whether he would rather kiss the mistress or the maid?—whether he prefers buttermilk or strong ale?—and the more satisfactory his answers are to the party, the more thickly his hand is plastered with mud, until at length he is released, and with loud cheering, permitted to join the forces, as they march off in search of another rebel.

There is a pearl fishery at Conwy, and many poor families are supported by gathering the muscles which contain these gems. The fish is called by LinnÆus mya margaritifera. The produce is transmitted to London in the pure natural state, and easily finds a market amongst the jewellers, who purchase them by weight, but in the neighbourhood of Conwy the purposes they are appropriated to are unknown. It was my good fortune to meet with a brother tourist at the Castle Inn; who after acquainting me with the above facts, offered to conduct me in the morning to Llandudno, which offer I thankfully accepted; and, before the sun had finished his draught of mountain dew, we had crossed the bridge, and were pursuing our course to the appointed spot. The tide was at low ebb, and a pleasant walk of three-quarters of a mile upon the hard sand brought us to

DINAS GONWY,

“The fort of the Conwy.” By the English, it is called the Gannoc, and by the common people in the neighbourhood “Y Vaer dre.”

The ruins of an ancient castle are to be seen at a short distance, situated upon two hillocks, near the shore. From thence we crossed by Eglwys RhÔs, where Maelgwn Gwynedd is said to have taken refuge to avoid the yellow fever, which was committing great havoc in all parts of Europe. Gloddaeth, the residence of the Hon. Lloyd Mostyn, is sweetly situated near this place. It was built by his ancestors in the reign of Elizabeth, and is celebrated for the Welsh manuscripts contained in the library, now removed to Mostyn. The grounds are most tastefully laid out, and the tourist will find himself amply rewarded for his pains while viewing the extreme beauty of the scenes around.

LLANDUDNO

Is built at the foot of a huge mass of rock which projects into the sea, called the Great Orme’s Head. The old church is dedicated to St. Tudno, who lived in the beginning of the sixth century. There is a curious old screen in the church of great antiquity: it is made of wood, and supposed to have been brought from the chapel at Gogarth.

On an eminence above the village is Dinas, which, as its name implies, was a fortified post of the Ancient Britons. A wall of great thickness encircles the summit of the hill, and within the area are great numbers of hollow circles, edged with stones about twelve feet in diameter. This fortification is exactly similar to that on Conwy town mountain, on Penmaen Mawr, and in many other places; and it answered the same purpose: not for a constant residence, but only as a place of refuge on the approach of an enemy.

Near this place is a maen sigl, or rocking stone, called Cryd Tudno, or St. Tudno’s Cradle. It is an immense stone, which is so equally poised that a very slight degree of pressure will enable a person to put it in motion.

The greater part of the inhabitants of Llandudno derive their livelihood from the copper mines, which have been carried on in every direction. The discovery of rude implements in old closed up shafts, such as hammers of stone, and chisels of bones thoroughly impregnated with copper, is an evidence of their having been worked at a very remote period.

This village has become, within the last few years, a favourite resort for sea-bathing, and is rapidly increasing in population and importance.

We arrived at the Castle, in Conwy, greatly fatigued, and equally delighted with our day’s journey. The following morning we proceeded by railway to Bangor.