“Oho!” says the warden, and off he set. Now the young lady scarcely knew how to take the salutation of the warden, whether it was meant friendly or otherwise. She had not pondered long upon those mysterious sounds, when the portcullis was raised, and the first living thing she saw was her tremendous uncle Dyn Ddu o’r’ Craig! with a hundred torches behind him, ready to welcome her into his castle. You may be sure she was not much pleased at his presence, and regretted that she had not held out till the morning. But she had gone too far, and so she went in, and the iron grating was closed again, with a sound that struck terror into her pretty heart. Now it so happened that Sir Tristram (that was the name of her lover) was staying with her father, Idris Gawr; and they were both of them puzzled what to think when Merch Idris didn’t reach home at the time they expected her. So the knight mounted his charger and gallopped off one way, and Idris took up his club and walked off the other, to search for her. All this time, the villain of an uncle was trying to wheedle the fairmaid, his niece, to marry him; and, when he found her deaf to his monstrous wishes, he flew into a mighty passion, and dragged her to the top of the precipice, by the hair of her head, and swore, in a most unchristian manner, that he would pitch her over, if she didn’t consent.
But just as he was about to put his threat into execution, he heard a horse at full gallop behind him; so he turned round just time enough to avoid the slashing sword of Sir Tristram, who made a determined cut at his head, that would have taken it clean off, if he hadn’t have ducked. Well, he was fain to let go the lady to save himself from the fury of the knight, although he didn’t think much of him. But he pulled up a tree, and he made a mighty blow at him, which the knight, by the blessing of providence, escaped; but the horse wasn’t so fortunate, for it fell upon the poor creature’s head, and smashed it to atoms. Well, the knight began to think the giant “too much of a horse” for him; and so he blew three notes upon his bugle, which was the appointed signal between him and Idris, and no sooner had he done so, than it was answered.
“And now,” said Sir Tristram, “my fine fellow,you’ll have your match in a minute; and sure enough, as he spoke, Dyn Ddu o’r’ Craig saw his brother running at the rate of half a mile a stride. Well, he was greatly perplexed what to do; but he thought he had better get into the castle. So, he took Merch Idris under his left arm, and kept the knight off with the roots of the tree. However, he couldn’t reach the gates in time.
“And now,” says Idris to his brother, “you ruffian,” says he, “what are you going to do with my daughter? Put her down, or I’ll smash you, as I do this tower!” and with that he hit a turret of the castle, and it flew about in all directions. “Why then,” says the other, “I think I can do as great a feat as that.” So he knocked the other turret on the head, and drove it clean down into the earth, so that not a brick of it was seen above ground! Well, with that the two giants began to bang each other with their cudgels, till they were black and blue, while Sir Tristram and the lady ran off to Cader Idris, as fast as they could, to get out of harm’s way.
Idris was the stronger giant of the two, and after three hours’ hard fighting, you wouldn’t have known them for human beings; but Idrishaving got Dyn with his back to the precipice, (where he threatened to throw the poor young lady over) hit him, with all his force, such a blow on the nose as made him stagger back and roll right over the edge of the craig. Well, he rolled and he rolled, till he got to the place where you were standing, and then he stopped; but he was quite dead. Then the famous Idris, seeing his brother lie like a huge bundle of rags, without motion, by the side of the stream, tore off a large piece from the top of the mountain, and throwing it with great force, it lit full upon the giant as he lay, while his conqueror roared out, in a voice that was heard at Carnaervon,—“Good rest to you, brother Dyn! there’s a nightcap for you!”
And ever since, that piece of rock has been called “the Giant’s Nightcap.”
We soon obtained a view of the lakes that spread themselves before us—viz.: Lyn Peris and Lyn Padarn, with the romantic castle of Dolbadarn upon its rocky promontory. On issuing from a pass on our left, as my companion informed me, is a valuable copper mine, and a stream of water conveyed over the road,by the aid of a wooden conduit, into the lake, which stream, he said, was for the use of the mine.
At length, I reached the inn, called Victoria, and satisfying my companion with a gratuity which was more profitable than fishing, I entered and ordered breakfast, and procured an admittance to the castle of Dolbadarn. This ancient fortress is supposed to have been built by one Padarn Beisrydd ap Idwal, for the purpose of guarding the mountain pass which I had just quitted. A single round tower is all that remains of the castle, although traces are left of a much more extensive building. Here Owen Goch was imprisoned twenty years by his brother Llewellyn, the last Prince of Wales of the British line; and an ode is still extant, written by Howel-Voel, wherein his captivity is affectionately lamented.
The view from the castle is truly sublime, comprising the two lakes, and the tremendous range of mountains, that seem to admit no outlet from the vale. But the most beautiful prospect is from the lake in front of the promontory on which the castle stands, and is reflected in the smooth waters beneath, while the majestic Snowdon towers in the distance.
In the twelfth century, it is said there lived a celebrated beauty, whose father was the lord ofthis castle, and of whom something like the following legend is related:
Margaret of Dolbadarn was one of the fairest damsels of whom Cambria ever boasted at court or tourney;—fair without vanity, highborn without ostentation, she exhibited the simplicity of nobility.
Like others of her rank, she had many knights who owned her power, and panted to put lance in rest for the peerless Margaret; but in the number there was but one whom her eye followed through the glittering throng, and whose approach made her heart beat, and the mounting blood turn the delicate pink upon her cheek to crimson; and William of Montgomery was the happy knight.
But her father had other views, and Hector of March-lyn-Mawr was proposed by him to be her husband—a youth of noble presence, but ignoble mind. His lands extended far and near, and skirted those of the Lord of Dolbadarn, who was, from that circumstance, doubly anxious to have the union consummated.
He was, however, a tender guardian; heloved his daughter, and was by her loved tenderly in return. Both knights had free access to Margaret, and both were anxious to deserve her favour. William was young, valiant, handsome, and honest; Hector was bold, gloomy, uncourtly and subtle. The Baron saw the decided preference his daughter gave to William of Montgomery, and grieved in his heart that it was not bestowed upon his more wealthy rival. He therefore resolved to put a proposal to his daughter, which was, that at the ensuing tournament to be given at his castle, the knights should prove their skill upon each other, and that he who was proclaimed the most accomplished master of his weapons, should receive her hand as the reward. For, though he was desirous of an alliance with the wealthy and powerful house of March Lyn Mawr, he was by no means insensible to the merits of Montgomery, whose name stood high in the lists of chivalry, and whose engaging manners won friends for him wherever he appeared. With a heavy heart did Margaret submit to the proposal of her father, although a feeling of confidence within her bosom told her the object of her attachment would prove the victor. Far different emotions agitated the hearts of the rivals, when they were informed of the Baron’s determination.William of Montgomery flung himself upon his knees before the old man, exclaiming with enthusiasm,
“By bath, and bed, and white chemise,[266]I will for ever be a true knight to thee for this especial favour, my good Lord of Dolbadarn! My lance and blade are yours at command, and,” turning to his rival, “Hector, if I bear thee not over thy charger’s croup, why say my heart and hand shook with fear in the encounter.—But, if thou gainest the field, I’ll give thee a grey palfrey for thy bride, to bear her to the church yonder, by thy side.”
“Agreed,” said Hector; “and noble Lord of Dolbadarn, if heaven desert me not in the hour of trial, I doubt not my success in winning thy daughter for my bride. Yet, should I fail, I promise thee, William of Montgomery, to give thee a steed, fleeter than any in thy stables, to bear the Lady Margaret as thy bride to church, nor will I bear thee any ill will shouldst thou prove conqueror, but drink a health to thee and thine, with a kind heart and true.”
At this time, there dwelt an old woman in the pass of Llanberis who was dreaded by all the country people, for she was accounted a witch;and on the night of that same day the storm raged furiously, and the tall trees were cracking in the forest, when a horseman was seen galloping up the pass. He stopped at the witch’s hut, and knocking loudly, he cried, “Ho! mother witch! open the door! for thy devil’s counsel is needed.”
The door was then opened, and the knight fastened his coal-black steed, dripping with rain and sweat, to a withered ash, and strode into the cabin. The fire reflected in his suit of steel made him appear a knight of flame; and, as he stamped his armed heels upon the floor, his armour rang with a muffled sound, like the death bell which tolls for the great, who die in the odour of sanctity: and the old hag laughed; her spirit was glad—for she knew that a deed of damning crime was shortly to be committed!
He sat him down upon the three-legged stool, and said, “Dame, I am ill at ease; for I love a maid whose heart I cannot win. Attend to me;—the gallant and high-minded Montgomery I must encounter for her in the lists; and, should he conquer, he will bear away the prize I am burning to possess; but, if the chance be mine, her own consent waits on her father’s choice, whose wishes are for me. Doubts on the issueurge me to seek thy aid. May my saint desert me if I would not rather shake hands with the foul fiend himself, than give a palfrey for my Margaret to ride to church upon, with any but myself.”
The witch laughed aloud, till he jumped from the stool, to see her old sides shake. “Hector of March Lyn Mawr,” quoth she, “fear not that Margaret of Dolbadarn will ever become the bride of Montgomery; for shouldst thou be overcome in the lists, (and my power will not assist thee in the joust) call aloud ‘Hell kite! hell kite!’ and presently shall a gallant palfrey come and raise thee from the ground, which being done, present it to thy foe, and thou shalt see the issue.” He thanked her, dropped his purse upon the floor, mounted his steed, and vanished down the pass.
There was a great assemblage of people at the castle of Dolbadarn, to witness the jousting; and knights from all quarters arrived, to break a lance with merry England’s best, for glory and lady love.
The tilting ground was enclosed by galleries erected for the ladies and nobles who wished to be spectators of the games. Upon the plain, at the end of the vale, fifty shields were hung upby the knights who wished to signalize themselves. Three score of coursers, with a squire of honour, first entered the lists; then followed as many knights in jousting harness, led in silver chains, by the same number of ladies, richly clad, to the sound of clarions, and trumpets, and minstrelsy. When the ladies ascended the galleries, the squires dismounted, and the knights vaulted gaily into their saddles. The scaffoldings were hung with tapestry, and embroideries of gold and silver; and the scene was animated and costly in the extreme. Joy lighted up the eyes of all, save those of Margaret and her two lovers. She sat a lily among roses, pale and dejected. Sometimes, indeed, she lifted her dark eyes, and her snowy neck took for a moment the carnation’s hue when she beheld the form of Montgomery, which yet faded as quickly as it came, and the Parian marble was left pure as before.
Sir William walked, with a bold and lofty mien, along the line of shields, glancing at them with indifference, until he stopped before that which bore the arms of Hector, and then a smile of scorn played upon his lips, and he passed on. Hector marked that smile, and his cheeks flushed with anger. Great skill wasdisplayed by youthful knights decked in ladies’ favours. But, when the time arrived for the trial between Sir William of Montgomery and Hector of March Lyn Mawr, a hum of unusual interest arose among the gallant and beauteous auditory. From the opposed lists they passed each other, to determine the length of the course, with visors up. Sir William smiled gaily, but Hector wore a sad and mournful look, as though he feared or doubted the event of the trial.
This ceremony of preparation being over, each took his post assigned, awaiting the signal for the charge. The Lady Margaret was pale as death, but none around her noticed it, they being all intent upon the two knights, who wore no outward favours, though one possessed an amulet which he had placed near his heart, beneath his vest. It was a white rose, which the fair Margaret had taken from her bosom, and given him an hour before in secret.
The nominal prize for the victor was a jewelled sword, but the prize on which their hearts were set was a gem transcendant—the all-surpassing Margaret!
And now the heralds sounded the charge, and the combatants met in mid career. The lanceof Hector was shivered upon the breast of Montgomery; but Sir William’s struck full upon the visor of Hector, which made him bend his plume backwards. In the second course, Hector struck the coronal of Sir William’s helmet a skilful stroke. Margaret fainted, and the ladies about her were busy in applying restoratives; but none attempted to remove her, being too much interested in the event of the joust. Montgomery cast a look of fire up to the spot, and then re-closed his visor for the third course. His opponent was resolved to make it a decisive one. Striking their spurs into their chargers’ sides, like arrows shot from opposing bows, they flew along. Then was a clash, a glittering flash! and the prize was won—for Hector of March Lyn Mawr lay, stunned and motionless, upon the ground, borne from his saddle by the lance of the victorious Sir William of Montgomery!
Margaret, being restored to her senses, wept tears of joy, and spoke most sweet words, when her lover riding beneath the platform, demanded from her hand the honourable prize.
But a wonder now appeared, which turned all eyes to the spot where Hector lay o’erthrown; for a milk-white palfrey, of the most exquisiteform, had galloped into the lists, and drawn him from beneath his charger, which had fallen with him in the violent concussion. His helmet being loosed, he soon partially recovered, and seeing the beautiful animal frisking and curvetting, as though overjoyed at his escape, he led it by the mane to his rival, saying,
“William of Montgomery, I give to thee this palfrey. Present it to thy bride, to whom I now resign all claim, and only request that she will, for my sake, let my favourite bear her to the church, where your union is to be celebrated.”
It was a lovely thing to look upon, and the maiden promised to use no other on that happy day.
The church of Llanberis was, at this time, about a mile from the castle of Dolbadarn, and the road, upon the bridal morning, resembled a mosaic pavement, when viewed from the mountain, it was so thickly studded with the fantastic dresses of the company, spectators, and gay flags and streamers waving in the air. The minstrels struck up their boldest notes of war, or delighted the ears and hearts of the female holiday makers with the soft songs of love. All was mirth, feasting, and jollity, while the airrung with the combined names of Margaret of Dolbadarn and William of Montgomery.
At length, the bridal procession issued forth from the castle gateway; the heralds led, the minstrels followed. Then came comely maidens with baskets of flowers, which they strewed around them, as they passed along. A body of armed knights followed and after them their esquires. Then appeared a troop of dancing girls, adorned with flowers, and clad in purest white; and a second band of minstrels struck their harps before the bridegroom and the happy bride, who rode gaily, side by side. She was dressed in rich attire; jewels glittered upon her robes and in her hair; and she rode upon the beautiful steed presented by March Lyn Mawr. The palfrey seemed proud of its lovely burthen, and gentle as the unwearied lamb. The bridegroom was clad in a light tunic and hose, and peaked boots; a many-coloured plume fluttered in his bonnet, and many sweet words did he whisper in Margaret’s ear. As the assembled multitude shouted their gratulations, he bent even to his saddle bow, to thank them for their courtesy. Young Hector rode upon her left, and he laughed, too, and he bowed low; but in his laugh there was a fiendish sound, and in hisbow a scorn. Then followed the Lord of Dolbadarn, his long white locks waving in the summer breeze, surrounded by his relatives and friends. A troop of squires and pages followed, while all the retainers of his noble house brought up the rear.
The bride and bridegroom passed along, and thousands cheered them on their way, with shouts and praises. The sun shone brightly above their heads, and joy was in their hearts. On they went, until a turning in the road brought them at once in sight of the church; but here the palfrey grew restive, and Sir William seized the bridle, thinking to control him. This answered but for a short distance; for they had no sooner reached the gate, over which was carved a cross, than, even while the groom held the stirrup for her to alight, away, away, away flew the palfrey, like a falcon, down the wind. The Lady Margaret was a good horsewoman, but she could not control the enchanted steed. She, however, kept her seat well, and hoped the unruly animal would soon relax his speed.
A hundred horsemen galloped after her, the bridegroom taking the lead, who, being mounted on the swiftest horse, soon left the rest behind,although unable yet to overtake the bride. The palfrey first dashed forward in the direction of Carnaervon, but suddenly turned off to the right, and galloped up the mountain. Hundreds of the peasantry were trampled under foot by the horses of the pursuers; some bruised, some crippled, and some killed, while the old Lord of Dolbadarn wrung his withered hands, and tore his grey locks, in frantic agony. He accused Hector as the author of all this misery, and vented his curses upon him, which the infuriated mob hearing, they seized upon the astonished knight, and almost in an instant tossed him upon their spikes into the air. He fell to the ground again, but not to rise; his plume, besmeared with blood, was scattered in every direction; his body, pierced with twenty wounds, spouted forth blood in fountains; blows fell upon his harness thick as hail; while a ferocious smith, with one stroke of an axe, severed the head from the body, and placing it upon a pike, bore the dripping trophy of vengeance above the applauding and infuriated wretches who had suffered in the tumult.
Those who could govern their horses flew over the broken country in pursuit, while fleeter than a startled hind, the palfrey dashed along—at times abating his swift flight, to give the laggards hope, who furiously spurred their chargers forward
After the knight,And lady bright.
After the knight,And lady bright.
But away, away flew the enchanted steed over moss and moor, o’er hill and dale, through ford and forest; while of those who followed up the chase some were smothered, horse and rider, in the deep morass; some broke their necks in attempting to leap stone walls; some dangled from the boughs in woody dell, or perished in the river, dashed by the torrent against broken rocks; and they cursed, and died as they cursed.
But Sir William of Montgomery pricked on his horse all foaming, and, as the strength of the noble animal began to fail, he cried aloud upon his patron saint to aid him. It was a charm of power, for it was a holy one; and the creature shook the foam from his mouth, and with recovered strength, dashed on in the pursuit. That charm, too, struck upon the heart of the palfrey, which began to fail him, and he tried in vain to keep the speed he had hitherto maintained. But the impetuous knight, seeing that he gained upon his lady love, furiously urged onhis charger, and with desperate rashness, burying his rowels in his side, exclaimed—“Hell kite, speed on!”—the very words the witch had given as a charm to Hector, and the name of the palfrey.
No sooner was it pronounced, than his speed returned, and away, away the enchanted steed rushed on, as swiftly as before! The lady was, by this time, nearly senseless; her eyes were dimmed from the effect of the air, as she cut through it; and her heart trembled within her, like a fluttering dove. She cast an imploring look behind upon her lover, and raised one snowy arm beseechingly. He saw the action, and fancied he heard her voice, faintly calling upon him for aid. But it was to Him who governs all, she prayed; and again the wild horse felt the sacred power. But he had nearly reached the goal. With voice and spur the gallant knight pressed on up the rising ground, the summit of which, unknown to Margaret, or the knight, looked over the broad ocean;—it was the terrific Penman Maur.
Nearer and nearer did the knight approach; his charger’s foam was on the palfrey’s flanks. Another bound, and he was at the side of Margaret—another, and there was one loud wild screamthat startled the eagles from their nests. Montgomery had clasped his lady round her waist, and borne her to his saddle bow. It was the movement of an instant—but, in that instant, steeds, knight, and lady plunged from the precipice’s edge! The first fall of fifty feet crushed the palfrey and war-horse; and the foul spirit, quitting the enchanted steed, like a dark cormorant hovered over the group.
The knight still clasped the maiden in his arms, whose shrieks were answered by the eagles’ screams; and the lovers were dashed from rock to rock, battered and bloody. The maiden fainted; but Sir William held her with the tenacious grasp of despair, with one arm to his breast, and with his right hand seized a dwarfish thorn—the only one that grew out of the rifted rock! But still there was no resting place for feet to stand upon, while the broken fragments of the cliff, disturbed by the weight of the fall, thundered downwards from above, and around them in every direction. One large mass struck the unhappy knight; the fragile thorn gave way, and the next moment beheld the loving pair, mutilated carcasses, floating upon the reckless waves! The eagles gorged upon their flesh, and not a vestige of the lost oneswas left. A white scarf which Margaret wore, and which streamed, like the banner of death, from the blasted thorn, alone remained to tell the fate of Sir William of Montgomery, and his blooming bride!
The church of Llanberis—Monumental inscriptions—Story of little John Closs—The Pellings—Capel Curig—Moel Siabod—Castle of Dolwyddélan—Falls of Benclog—Llyn Ogwen—Llyn Idwal—Story of Idwal—Route to Llanrwst—Falls of Rhaiadr y Wennol—Bettws y Coed—The church—Monuments—Pont y Pair—Ogo ap Shenkin, a Legend—Glee, “Shenkin was a noble fellow!”
“Of a noble race was Shenkin!Thrum, thrum, thrum,Of the line of Owen Tudor,Thrum, thrum, thrum,But her renown was fled and gone,Thrum, thrum, thrum,But her renown was fled and gone,Since cruel love pursued her!”JOHN DRYDEN.
“Of a noble race was Shenkin!Thrum, thrum, thrum,Of the line of Owen Tudor,Thrum, thrum, thrum,But her renown was fled and gone,Thrum, thrum, thrum,But her renown was fled and gone,Since cruel love pursued her!”
JOHN DRYDEN.
Returningto the Victoria, I partook of the refreshments provided, and then retracing my steps, I visited the little rustic church of Llanberis, which, for its simplicity, is well worthy of attention. Upon entering the doorway, thereis a small stone font placed upon a pedestal which is approached by three stone steps: it resembles a small washing tub, and its cover is much like a copper-lid. Advancing into the interior, the music loft is upon the left, under which is a dilapidated screen, opposite to the font. A doorway in the centre of the screen leads into the body of the church, where ancient oaken benches are ranged upon either side, and the pulpit and communion table are immediately in front. The old arched roof is held together by iron pins, which project on each side of the timbers, and the whole interior is whitewashed. The only pew in the church adjoins the communion table, both of which have suffered materially by the worm and time. The few monuments in this simple structure are upon small slate slabs, about the size of a school-boy’s, and are hung up on the wooden beams. There are two of wood, with letters cut deeply into the small square, thus:
InaTan! hun! Ofe! maeGorwedd! CorphROE! ei oed! 60Y Dudd! Y Cladd wudE brill! 10! 1719.
InaTan! hun! Ofe! maeGorwedd! CorphROE! ei oed! 60Y Dudd! Y Cladd wudE brill! 10! 1719.
The other, immediately facing the pulpit, is a black piece of board, ornamented with an undertaker’s tablet of gilt copper, in the centre of which, upon black japan, is—
Thos. WilliamsDied Oct. 251836.Aged 74.
Thos. WilliamsDied Oct. 251836.Aged 74.
On leaving the church, there is a monumental slate slab on the left of the path, bearing the following inscription and verses:
UnderneathLieth the remainsOf John, the son ofRobert Closs, who wasInterred Decr. 1st.1805, aged 7 years.Ar ben mynydd dydd-y-daith oî hoywderA che dodd y maithGadewais (gwelais goeg waith)Drueni’r Byd ar unwaith.O erfel fu uchel a chos, i augauLlyn ingol i’mddangosMantell niwl mewn lywyll nosA dychrymad dechreunos.
UnderneathLieth the remainsOf John, the son ofRobert Closs, who wasInterred Decr. 1st.1805, aged 7 years.
Ar ben mynydd dydd-y-daith oî hoywderA che dodd y maithGadewais (gwelais goeg waith)Drueni’r Byd ar unwaith.O erfel fu uchel a chos, i augauLlyn ingol i’mddangosMantell niwl mewn lywyll nosA dychrymad dechreunos.
Upon returning to my inn at Gwrydd, I discovered that the landlady was sister to little John Closs; and from her I learnt the story of his melancholy fate. It is as follows:
John was a pretty boy, about seven years of age, with fair hair and blue eyes, of a sweet-temper, adored by his parents, and loving them most affectionately in return. Indeed, little John Closs was the talk of the parish, and held up as a pattern of filial love and reverence to all the children in the village. His uncle had a small farm at Nant Bettwys; and John’s father having sent him to reside there, for a few months, the fond mother would often cross the mountain to see her son and her sister, returning home in the evening of the same day. Little John got tired of living away from home, and one night, after his mother had quitted the cottage to return to Llanberis, he wept so bitterly, and prayed so earnestly to be permitted to follow her home, that the good people at Bettwys permitted him to try and overtake her,which they considered he might easily do, as she had not left the house ten minutes before he started.
The mother reached Llanberis in safety; but the poor boy lost his way in a snow storm on Moel Einion, and was not heard of for more than a week afterwards; when, one day, a man crossing the mountain, found the child stretched on the ground in a slumbering position, his face towards the earth, buried in his hands, and quite dead.
On the evening when he lost his way, a shepherd, by the name of John Davis, said he had heard cries, like those of a child, upon the mountain, which in his ignorance he believed to be the voice of a fairy; and, terrified at the idea of encountering some supernatural being, he took to his heels in a contrary direction, with all the speed he could make, while the poor sufferer, cold and dying, vainly exerted himself in straining his innocent voice for succour.
The inhabitants of this neighbourhood have, from time immemorial, held a strong belief in fairies; and there are many families now living that are said to have descended from this race, from their having intermarried, in the olden time, with their ancestors. They are calledPellings, from a fairy who was named Penelope, and who, while dancing, one moonlight night, upon the shores of a lake called Cwellyn, was surprised and seized by a young farmer, who, in spite of her screams, bore her to his own house, called Yestrad, near Bettws, where he treated her with so much kindness, that she became contented to live with him; and they were married, upon the condition that he should never strike her with iron; for if he did, she would vanish, and he would never see her again. (I here thought of the tale told me by the old man in the valley of Drwstynrnt and was struck with the similarity they bore to each other.) Unfortunately, as the farmer and his wife went out into the field one day, to catch his horse, he accidentally hit her with the buckle of his bridle, and she was never seen after. Her descendants are called Pellings, as are all who imagine they derive their origin from this fabulous lady. Mr. William Williams, in his observations upon the Snowdon mountains, says—“The best blood in my own veins is this fairy’s.”
This belief, existing so strongly in the breasts of many people in this district, will account for the pusillanimity of the shepherd who fled from the cries of poor little John Closs.
The following morning, I proceeded towards Capel Curig, but this road is very uninteresting. The tourist is, however, amply gratified, if it happen to be tolerably clear weather, on his arrival at an ancient stone bridge which crosses a stream that tumbles over some black rocks on the right, and winds its way in graceful variety, forming a pleasing spot to rest upon. Looking back towards Llanberis, the mountain scenery is very fine; and I here took my farewell look of Snowdon and Snowdonia.
Is in the parish of Llandegai. It derives its name from a man who was canonized, and founded a chapel in this mountainous region. He was the son of Llendden Llenddog, of Edinburgh. There are here two lakes, and some tolerable fishing may be had, if you take a boat; but from the banks it is quite useless to attempt it. From this spot, excursions may be made to Llanberis and
From the summit of which a magnificent view is obtained of the mountains of Snowdonia, ofnine different lakes, and the sea beyond Carnaervon. The distance from the inn to the apex of this mountain does not exceed three miles and a half.
Situated about five miles from Capel Curig, and on the eastward side of Moel Siabod, deserves notice. It is built upon a lofty rock, which on one side is inaccessible. There are two square towers, and a court in the middle. It is surrounded by mountains, and must in ancient days have been a fortress of considerable importance. It is said, Llewellyn the great was born in the castle; and this fact is sufficient to interest the stranger who is capable of appreciating and feeling reverence for a hero, who so long struggled with unwearied assiduity and unconquerable bravery, for his native land, and who fought and died in the sacred cause of liberty.
Within four miles of Capel Curig is an oval lake, of about three miles in circumference, calledLlyn Ogwen, which must by no means be overlooked. The scenery around is delightful,and the waters are well stored with excellent trout of fine flavour, and surpassing all others in that respect, in the Carnaervonshire lakes.
At the western end of this lake, are the falls ofBenglog, (being three in number and upwards of one hundred feet in height) from whence the waters take their course through Beavers’ Hollow, a wild and romantic glen, rocky and barren.
Powel, in his History of North Wales, says, “In Tevi, above all the rivers in Wales, were, in Giraldus’s time, a great number of castels, which may be Englished beavers, and are called in Welsh avane, which name onlie remaineth in Wales at this daie, but what it is, very few can tell. It is a beast not much unlike an otter, but that it is bigger, all hearie saving the taile, which is like a fishe taile as broad as a man’s hand. This beast useth as well the water as the land; and hath a voice, sharp teeth, and biteth cruellie till he perceives the bones cracke * * * * He that will learn what strong nests they make, which Giraldus calleth castells, which they build upon the face of the water with great bowes, which they cut with their teeth, and how some lie upon their backs holding the wood with their fore feet, which the other drawethwith a crosse stick, the which he holdeth in his mouth, to the water’s side, and other particularities of their natures, let him read Giraldus in his Topographie of Wales.”
In this stream are found the fresh water muscle, which the country people callcregyn deluw, i.e.shells of the deluge, supposed to have been brought into it by Noah’s flood.
On the left of the lake are theCrags of Trifaen; huge shattered ridges, which overhang the pool and keep it in continual shadow, while the sides of Braich-ddu slope gradually to the lake’s margin. The Francôn mountains, in the distance, are astonishingly grand, and altogether this lake scene may be considered the finest in Caernarvonshire.
A gentleman in the winter of 1831, was driving along the road which skirts the borders of the lake, when upwards of a thousand tons of rock fell from the heights of Benclog, a little below the falls into Nant Francôn, a short time after he had passed them, and he beheld one portion roll into the valley and river, while the other rested upon the road he had just travelled, rendering it impossible for any carriage to proceed by that route, until the obstruction was removed.
A mile distant from Llyn Ogwen is another lake, well worthy of being visited, which lies in a deep hollow of the Glyder mountains called
where the gloomy horror of the scenery is most appalling; particularly the terrific chasm ofTwll Ddu, or the Black Cleft. This spot derived its name from the following crime, which was perpetrated here.
Prince Owain Gwynedd, who reigned in the twelfth century, had a favourite calledNefydd Hardd, to whose care he intrusted his sonIdwal, and who betraying his trust, commanded his sonDunawtto destroy the young prince, a crime which he too faithfully obeyed, perpetrating the cruel deed at this place. But, being discovered, Nefydd, and his posterity, were degraded from the rank of nobles to bondsmen, and Rhun, the son of Dunawt, who again became possessed of the property of his ancestors, granted the ground upon which the church of Llanrwst now stands, as an expiatory gift for the foul crime imputed to his father. The grave of Idwal is still pointed out by the inhabitants, close to the lake.
The scenery around is well calculated to inspirefear in the timid, as being adapted to the committal of atrocity of any kind. Bleak, black, desolate and stern, it thrills the beholder with an indescribable sensation of terror.
The lake is well stored with fish, of a darker colour than those in the Ogwen, and of a less delicate flavour. These lakes are in the parish of Llan Tegai, so called from its patron saintTegai, the son ofIthol Hael, a nobleman of Amorica, brother to Credifael and Flewin, who built Penmynydd and Llanflewin, in Anglesea, about the year 636.See Roland’s Mona Antiqua Rest.p.189.
After a delightful day’s ramble amongst this wild and sublime scenery, I returned to the inn at Capel Curig, and on the following morning took the road to Llanrwst, which in a short time becomes particularly interesting. The dark and comfortless sterility is exchanged for a delightful valley, with luxuriant woods, which stretch to the summit of the hills upon either side; and near the two mile stone is one of the most picturesque cottages imaginable, placed on the side of a hill above the bridge, which crosses the river Llugwy, and gives additional beauty to the romantic dell. Half a mile beyond is an observatory, which stands upon the highest pointof a towering cliff, a portion of whose summit is clothed with purple heath, and the remainder presents a face of grey barren rock, while beneath a forest of rich foliage creeps from its base far up the craggy sides.
Within a mile of this place are the celebrated waterfalls, called
i.e. the Spout of the Swallow—a cataract of about sixty feet in width. The river, at the top of the first fall, flows in an unbroken sheet, but soon becomes dispersed in various streams that dash and struggle through the impending masses of rock, charming the ear with their complicated roar. At the second fall, it rushes in a collected volume into the boiling vortex, from whence, at the third, it is dispersed in spray. A small wicket gate by the road side, leads to a footpath through the grounds, to the falls, where the visitor cannot fail to find an adequate reward for his digression. The old oak trees that overhang the ravine are beautifully grouped. On one side, a large rock rises perpendicularly nearly 500 feet, and the earth is clothed with velvet moss and decked with wild flowers. Fancywould picture just such a retreat, for a wandering sylph! while the rays of light, darting through the greenwoods, remind us of the flittings of Sir John Wynne’s ghost, which was said to haunt this glen for many years, but is now laid at rest in the depths of the lower fall. Journeying onward, I reached the village of
which being translated is the Station in the Wood; and a most delightful station it is. The Shrewsbury and Holyhead road run through it, and the junction of the Llugwy and the Conway rivers is at no great distance. The church is a venerable structure, and contains an old monument, erected to the memory of Griffith, the son of David Gôch, who was a natural son of David, the brother of Llywellyn, the last Prince of Wales. He died in the fourteenth century, and a stone statue of him is in a recess on the north side of the church, with this inscription: “Hic jacet Gruffydd ap Davyd Gôch, agnus Dei misere mei.”
At about a mile from Bettws is an iron bridge of one arch, which carries the Holyhead road over the river Conway. Its span is 105 feet,and it is called the Waterloo Bridge, from its having been erected in the year that tremendous battle was fought. But the principal object is,
the Bridge of the Caldron. It has four arches, and the natural rock supplies it with piers, that seem to defy the efforts of time or the fury of the waters. Immediately above the bridge is the fall and salmon leap. The river rolls and plunges into a deep reservoir below. The grandeur of the scene during the floods, I was informed, surpasses imagination, and, unfortunately for me, the heat of the sun had dried them up, when I visited this celebrated spot.
For this bridge the inhabitants are indebted to one Howell, a mason, who resided at Penllyn in the year 1468; and, having occasion to attend the assizes at Conway, he was unexpectedly prevented from passing the Lleder by the fury of the flood. That a similar disappointment might not occur to others, he erected a wooden bridge across that river, and trusted to the generosity of travellers to remunerate him. The success of this attempt encouraged him to erect the bridgeat Bettws y Coed, which is now called Pont y Pair, but he died before it was completed.
Upon the right of this bridge is Carrey y Gwalch, or the Rock of the Falcon, well clothed with trees, through which the bald cliffs peep, like a body of sharp shooters from a brush wood, anxious to escape detection. In this rock is a recess called the cave of Shenkin, a celebrated outlaw, who found shelter here from the unremitting efforts of justice during the reign of Edward IV.
The entrance to this spot is blocked up by a large piece of rock, and the following legend is seriously related by the old women of the neighbourhood.
In the reign of our seventh Henry, when the civil wars which desolated the hearths of rich and poor, ceased to afflict the nation, and peace and plenty once more spread their smiling influence throughout the land, there lived near this village a man, called Jordan ap Jordan, a wood-cutter and goatherd, whose time was occupied between watching his goats upon themountains, and felling trees in the forest. He was a short square built man, with a squint eye and a blue nose. He was thought to be half distracted between the desires of a miser, and the vices of a drunkard; for, whenever one passion predominated, he raved like a bedlamite at the other, and he who shunned him in the morning for his sordid qualities would fairly take to his heels at full speed, to avoid him in the evening when he was in his cups.
Jordan was, therefore, generally shunned by his neighbours, and would often repair to the bridge of the Caldron, to meditate upon future wealth, or to roar out his bacchanalian stanzas to his unwearied companion the waterfall. He was fond of a thundering accompaniment, and here he was gratified to his heart’s fondest wish. The superstitious peasantry were often alarmed, as they passed the bridge after twilight, to their several homes, to hear his unearthly raving mingled with the sound of the cataracts, and to see his ungainly form perched upon the parapet of the bridge, which they often mistook for an evil spirit. One morning, before daybreak, as he was gradually recovering from his evening’s excess, the grasping fiend of avarice seized upon his heart, as was often the case, when he reflectedon his extravagance on the foregoing night; and, after venting many bitter curses upon all earthly spirits (alias drams) prayed most devoutly to all spirits, celestial, for a plentiful accession of worldly pelf, to add to his store, which he had concealed in the hollow of a certain tree; when “a still small voice,” which even the roar of the torrent permitted him to hear, whispered to him that Ogo ap Shenkin might contain “something worth seeking for.”
This cave, as I have before mentioned, was the retreat of the celebrated Shenkin; and, although the bold outlaw had long ceased to commit his depredations, the place of his resort was held in dread by the superstitious peasantry, who firmly believed that his spirit was to be seen every night, prowling about the gap, to terrify and torment all poor souls who ventured to wander near this haunted ground.
The woodman pricked up his ears at the sound of the voice, and, after turning the thing over and over again in his mind, and weighing the pros and cons in the scale of his bewildered judgment, he determined to venture on the experiment. “For,” thought he, “though ghosts walk by night, I never heard of their venturing out by day;” and hastening home he replenished hisbottle, which he thought it prudent to take with him in case of frights and sights, which an application to it might enable him to endure with fortitude.
It was yet grey morning, and the mist still lay in the valley, as Jordan ap Jordan advanced hisblue lightin the direction of Shenkin’s cave; one eye peering in the direction of the hollow, and the other traversing the craggy mountain tops and down the hills’ sides, like a vagrant scout watching the enemy’s motions or looking out for squalls.
The heavy fog was now fast rising on the mountain’s side, obscuring the mouth of the cave so completely that Jordan was very often compelled to apply his mouth to the flask, in order to rectify the effects of the unwholesome dew, which he inhaled by gallons.
Thicker and thicker came on the fog, and lighter and lighter became the flask; until what with one thing, and the other, he scarce knew whether his track lay to the right, or to the left; and, but for the consolation of the spirit, he would infallibly have beenrouted by terror; but as it was, he only acknowledged to beingovercome with liquor, and his reluctance to confess so much was only conquered on finding himselfstretched half way into the cave, without the power of resuming his standing position. While he lay thus sprawling and unable to rise, gazing with “lack lustre eye” into the gloomy recess, he fancied he beheld some lights flickering at a distance, dancing up and down, and running to and fro! His hair stood on end with fright, his eyes almost started from his head with curiosity, and the liquor evaporating, as his terror became stronger, he miraculously recovered the use of his legs, which he instantly endeavoured to make use of in escaping from the cavern. But, to his utter consternation, he discovered that the entrance was closed up, and an appalling noise of a long drawn, ba-a-a-a-a! made him look once more in the direction of the lights.
He now fancied he saw only two, but they grew larger and larger, till they resembled two moons. And presently he heard a buzzing sound, as if a thousand bees were about his ears; and on a sudden the cave became lighted up with a thousand torches, for it seemed to have expanded to an incredible magnitude; and, in the centre, upon a huge oaken chest well bound with iron clasps, stood a goat of prodigious size, with a beard which seemed to be often times the magnitude commonly given by artists to Aaron the high priest. Full, shaggy, and venerable did it appear. His horns, like mighty corkscrews, issued from his forehead, terminating in two portentous points; and his eyes,—for they were his eyes, which Jordan’s disconcerted vision had mistaken for moons—were fixed upon a clasped book, the leaves of which he was deliberately turning over with his right fore hoof, as if he cared no more for Jordan ap Jordan’s proximity, than if he had been one of his own species.
The woodman being by this time perfectly sober, felt his desire of wealth grow stronger than fear; and he could not help thinking that the oaken chest contained the treasure he so much coveted.
“You’re perfectly right,” said the goat, answering to the thought of Jordan, without taking his eyes off the book he was perusing; “and you shall see the treasure.” Then touching a spring with his fore paw, the side of the chest flew open, and Jordan saw more gold than he ever thought the world contained, and every piece stamped with the king’s head. Jordan, with his natural impulse, rushed forward to grasp some of the shining coin! but, the goatpresented his horns to him, saying, “If you touch any of this coin before it is properly prepared, instant death will be your fate,” and then, with a loud ba-a-a-a-a, he summoned a number of grave elders about him, to whom he gave suitable directions, and these presently kindled some dry wood upon a slab of rock, and put an iron pot with a spout to it over the flames, while Jordan wondered to see them use their cloven feet so cleverly in adjusting matters as occasion required. These preparations being completed, they took from the chest large bags full of gold, and emptied them into the iron pot, one after the other, until it was completely full; and then commenced dancing round it on their hinder legs, ba-a-a-a-ing most inharmoniously. This ceremony continued some time, when lo! the coin being fusible, melted, and became a burning liquid.
“Now,” said the monster goat to Jordan-ap-Jordan, “I will make thee a man of gold! Thou dost thirst for gold and shalt have more than thou desirest. Swallow thou this pot of boiling metal, and fear not. The heat will have no effect upon thee—so drink—drink and be wealthy!”
Jordan looked upon the molten gold as it sparkled and became agitated in the vessel, and, stooping to take a closer inspection, was surprised to find it destitute of heat, though still retaining its liquidity! Having ascertained this fact, he made no hesitation in obeying the goat’s commands, and took huge draughts of the precious fluid, which, like warm jelly, flowed smoothly and agreeably into his capacious maw. No sooner had he drained the measure, than the venerable goat leaped from the chest, and presenting his terrific horns, cried, “Now Jordan, fly for your life;” at the same time, making a charge upon his rear, which completely ejected him from the cavern at full speed. No sooner had he passed the cavern’s mouth, than he tumbled with violence to the ground; and at the same moment a huge mass of rock fell from the summit of the hill, and effectually blocked up the entrance of Ogo ap Shenkin.
It was mid-day when Jordan quitted the cave, and the sun shone in all its brilliant beauty. Filled with wealth and wonder, he hastened towards his cottage, calculating all the way the prodigious extent of his riches.
“I must take care of myself now,” said Jordan,“for, if by any chance, my secret should be discovered, I shall share the fate of the goose that laid the golden eggs.”
This reflection made him uneasy; and as he was frequently hailed, in sport or ridicule, by the shepherd lads from the mountains, he quickened his speed to avoid observation.
For ten years after this, Jordan was never seen except at night, and then it was only for a moment and upon the bridge. He was like a phantom there—and gone in an instant. No one saw him in his former occupation; his cottage was deserted, and he lived, no one knew where.
The gradual decay of his wardrobe was noticed, as at various times he was recognised by those to whom he was formerly known; until, at length, he was entirely destitute of every article of clothing; and a village curate was, one bleak and wintry night, roused from his bed, by the moaning of some human creature, apparently at the threshold of his door. He let him in, pale, emaciated, naked, and ghost like. He placed him, shivering, on his bed; and the dying creature glared wildly about the apartment, as he exclaimed in terror,
“Take care they don’t steal me.”
“Who?” inquired the good curate.
“The world—all the world, are looking for me,” replied the wretch; “but I shall escape them yet. You are a good man; you would not rob the dead, would you?”
“Heaven forbid,” he replied.
“Ay, ay, you fear Heaven—you fear its curses here, and its vengeance hereafter. I think I may trust you, as I have not above an hour to live. Look at me! don’t you see what they hunt me for? I’m all gold!—a man of gold!—robbers seek for me, to buy them food!—Spendthrifts hunt after me, to pay their debts!—Women grasp at me, to purchase jewels!—And kings lay snares for me, to gorge and fatten!”
He then related his wonderful adventure in Ogo ap Shenkin; and, as he concluded it, exclaimed,
“Bury me safely. You make take my little finger, that will pay all expenses, but don’t break up my body—to—to—to—” and the hypochondriac expired.[304]