The Daily Mail article of June 16, 2012, in our blog post (here) announced Prince William and his new wife Kate, Duchess of Cambridge, would rent their first home from Sir George and Lady Jean Tapps Gervis Meyrick.
 |
| Prince William's and his wife, Kate's first home |
On September 22, 2013, The Daily Mail covered the story when they moved out (link here).
Kate in an afro wig.
Wills as a white van man.
What they REALLY got up to at their Anglesey love nest
‘I know that I speak for Catherine when I say that I have never in my life known somewhere as beautiful and as welcoming as Anglesey,’ he said. ‘Both of us will miss it terribly when my Search & Rescue tour of duty comes to an end.’
In less than two weeks, the Prince and his wife — plus their baby son, Prince George — will move into their first ‘official’ residence: a four-storey, 20-room apartment in Kensington Palace.Today, it's near impossible to get pictures of Bordorgan Hall. Several photography bloggers complain they travel to the area and are not allowed to take photos by the guards. Security is the reason given.
But around 1952, when an American cousin went to visit, the trip was very different. Allie Goodwin Myrick Bowen describes her travels to Bordorgan and her tour of the hall in The Story of the Myricks, pages 1-4 (Google's Free books link here).
Travel to Bordorgan
Anglesey Isle is not too well equipped with hotels so we stopped at Llandudno, a trim seacoast town in North Wales where the British come for a spot of sun and sea bathing during the chill misty summers.
 |
| Llandudno in Wales |
Next morning our car took us along entrancing Conway Bay, then past Conway Castle, one of the best examples of the score or so of castles built by the brave and stalwart Welsh in their long and futile attempt to stop the British conquerors; then through Llanfairfechan and other towns with equally unpronounceable names.
 |
| Conway Castle |
The mountains rose starkly from the sea, black, barren, precipitous, yet provided footing and grazing for flock after flock of sheep separated by walls of piled black stones. Mists about the black mountain peaks and the cold clear streams that rushed through the narrow passes gave us the feeling of foreboding unreality.
Mountains of Wales The car turned into a road which the driver said was Roman, crossed Menai Straits by a beautiful but perilous looking suspension bridge, and we were on Anglesey Isle, the home of our ancestors.
 |
| Robert Stephenson's Britannia Bridge connects the Anglesey Isle to the mainland |
We followed the route to Holyhead, through Llangefni, Llangaro, Llanerchymedd, Llangollen, and our map showed scores of other towns with names beginning double L, meaning that the town had taken its name from a church or parish and evidenced a God-worshipping community.
 |
| Llangefni clock tower |
Hills had replaced the mountains and farms and flocks filled the countryside. Most of the houses were built of dark slate topped by a gray thatched roof and looked drab and lifeless. Everywhere black slate walls divided the small holdings. Far to our rear loomed the dark mountains of Wales.
 |
| View from Hills near Conwy |
There were hardness and fierceness in the landscape that seemed to speak to us of the spirit and strength of those Welshmen of old, and already we felt closer to an understanding of our Myrick family with its large number of pioneer preachers and teachers and farmers. Those God-fearing men who had battled the stony lands and wild winds of Wales must have thought America a paradise for planting.
Turning south, we soon reached Bodorgan village, some six or eight houses in all, and found the Myrick Arms, a tiny tavern built of the inevitable slate. It was only by the aid of our Welsh driver, who understood the ways of these people, that we finally succeeded in arousing the house and asking the innkeeper for directions to the Myrick home, explaining that we were Myricks from America.
The name Myrick worked magic; the innkeeper was all deference and cooperation.
"OOh!," he said, "You want Bodorgan Hall (he made it sound like Bodor r r gan Ho). But Sir George and Lady Mary have not come down vet from London. I think they are to come next week. And the Hall is not open for visitors on Saturday but you could ride over and see the grounds."
After getting a promise from the landlady that she would give us lunch, and securing lengthy directions from the landlord, we started for Bodorgan Hall. There was a short stretch of the same stony landscape and then we began a winding way through woodlands comparable in beauty to those recently seen on the estate surrounding Blenheim Castle.
 |
| Blenheim Castle |
We began to have a different feeling about those ancestors of ours and the awe and strangeness of a foreign land were gone. On all sides, as far as we could see, were woods like those at home — native oaks and pines — and great clumps of rhododendron bordered the road showing a careful planting to supplement the natural growth.
Several times the car almost ran over young rabbits before they could scurry into the safety of the shrubbery. It was no longer a country road; it was an approach through the pleasure grounds of a personage. Then came the gate and adjoining lodge and a rangy gatekeeper wearing hunting boots and a bright woolen pullover.
"Indeed Sir George and Lady Mary have not come down," he informed us, "but you may go in and see the grounds, and perhaps the caretaker might show you the Hall though it is not open today to ordinary visitors."
He was right. Indeed the caretaker did not consider us ordinary visitors. She showed us through every part of the Hall and gardens, let us take pictures, and smiled in agreement as we reveled in the beauty and interest of the old place. The massive, two-storied building of light gray stone had scores of rooms in which most of the beautiful old furniture and paintings were swathed in coverings due to the absence of Sir George Meyrick and Lady Mary.
The caretaker became so interested in our visit she removed many of the coverings and would have removed all had we not protested. The oldest part of the Hall is the tower, now some thousand years old, and its ponderous, time-worn stones look as if they could withstand a siege of the present. More modern additions, and by modern is meant only two to three hundred years old, extend around and beyond the tower to produce an overall effect of proportion and beauty in the castle-like home overlooking blue Caernarvon Bay.
The beauty of the house and its furnishings, the expanse and loveliness of the estate with its gardens and game preserves, all gave us pleasure, but of far more interest to us was the history of the Myrick family here preserved in many forms.
 |
| Motto: Without God, nothing; God and enough. |
On the wall facing the entrance to the Great Hall of the house hung the Meyrick coat-of-arms, and below it hung the two-handed sword used by Llewellyn, father of the first of the Meyricks to bear the surname Meyrick when he fought for Henry VII at the battle of Bosworth in 1485.
In another room was his saddle, still in good condition, and the caretaker told us of his salt cellar which is kept in the vault when the family is absent. Family portraits hung in many rooms, a few by noted artists, and we were intrigued by the familiarity of many of the names attached to them.
The present holder of the title and estate, Sir George Meyrick has children and grandchildren, so Bodorgan may remain in Myrick's hands for another thousand years or so.
Eldest son to the eldest son, following the law of primogeniture, Sir George and his predecessors have held the Meyrick estate in Wales. The younger sons and the sons of younger sons were the Myricks who came to America.
What do you think of our connection to Wales? Are you a Merrick with pictures from there? Can we share them and your story in a blog post? E-mail me or comment below.
Conwy Castle
Terms of relationship - grandmother, uncle, aunt, cousin, etc. - are used here generically to include relatives such as fourth great grandfathers, great grand uncles, second cousins twice removed, etc.
No comments:
Post a Comment