Wine in such a house, being out of the question, we ordered a jug of warm punch, and having drank success to my musical friend in a brimming goblet, I began to think, as my time was limited, and his path lay towards Cerrig-y-Drudion, and mine towards Bala, I had better reach that place before dark. My companion having divested himself of his shoes and stockings, and adopted those of the landlord, and feeling himself comfortable before the fire, resolved upon remaining where he was until bedtime. Wishing him, therefore, a pleasant evening, and a good night’s repose, I once more took the road for another walk of ten miles; while I heard the shrill sounds of his fife stick playing the Welsh air of “Farewell Glanddyn.”
At the end of the village, I was attracted by the eyes of the prettiest little Welsh lass that I remember having seen in the country. Health bloomed in her cheek, and animation darted from her sloe-black eyes. She was talking to a village lad, who appeared to be much abashedby some reproof she had given him; and presently, with a significant nod of the head and an admonitory glance of the eye, she turned briskly from him, and frisked by me, humming a Welsh air—the first that I had heard since I entered the principality—while the youth, with a smile and a sigh, turned in a contrary direction, exclaiming, “Ah, Jenny, if you refuse so many, you may happen to pray for one yet.”
I afterwards discovered that the Welsh air was called after the mansion of Mr. Edward Jones, the compiler of that most interesting book of Cambrian lore, the Bardic Museum. I instantly determined to put the idea I had formed in my mind of the Welsh lass into verse, and to adapt the lines to the music. (See plate.)[143]
Every thing looked cheerful; the birds carroled joyously from the trees and bushes; and I joined in the chorus. A robin appeared to be much taken with my vocal powers, and for a good while kept me company, alighting constantly some ten or twelve yards before me, and listening attentively until I had passed as far; then, passing me again in his flight, he took up his station as before. “Poor bird!” thought I, “I remember in my boyhood I have followed some of your race as eagerly as you now follow me; and my ears drank in their notes, intoxicatingmy senses with delight. I shall never forget the old mulberry tree that grew in our play grounds, shadowing a pretty little hermitage in which I used to sit apart from my schoolfellows and listen to the notes of that delightful warbler, with whom I grew familiar, and fed every evening with crumbs of bread, saved from my dinner.”
How extraordinary it appears that the past should always seem more delightful than the present! I am convinced, that I was more miserable during my school-boy days than I have been since, and yet my mind returns to the brighter portions of the picture only. The April beams that dried up the tears of my youth live in the memory, while the clouds and showers are buried in oblivion. Youth, youth!—why should we ever grow old? why are we not as fresh and green at sixty as we are at twenty?—why may we not enjoy the blessings of vigour, the elastic bound, the rosy tint, the boundless flow of spirits, the freshness of imagination, until the moment when we drop into the grave?—But sentimentalism is a bad subject for sale, and therefore I have no business to introduce any chapters of such a nature in this little work.
At a short distance from Corwen, a road branches off to the left, along which the travellershould trudge to the village of Llandrillo, and he will be repaid by the sight of one of the most fertile valleys in Wales. It is a mile farther to Bala by this route, but the superior beauty of the scenery will amply recompense him for the extra distance; for, with the exception of a view of Bala lake, obtained from an eminence on the road, which runs along the opposite side of the valley, it is dull and uninviting. But, on the contrary, by the Llandrillo route, the eye is delighted with a succession of scenes, varied and interesting in the extreme. Huge masses of rock hang over the road, upon the left, in threatening grandeur, while waving woods, and falling streams, give endless variety to the picture.
After proceeding four miles, I crossed a bridge over a fine trout stream, the banks of which are shaded with trees; and, turning into an avenue upon the right, seated myself by the margin of the brook, secured from the hot rays of the mid-day sun, and fancied myself the melancholy Jacques. There only wanted a wounded stag, to make the illusion perfect.
Here I was shortly after joined by an old man and his son, who, after some hours’ fishing, had contrived to fill a moderately sized basket with very fine trout. The father was tall and thin, with prominent features, sharp grey eyes, andgrey locks; his port was erect, “stiff as a ramrod,” and if he had been unfortunate enough to have had a lame leg, he would have made an excellent representation of Corporal Foss. The son, a youth of about nineteen, was clad in a suite of clothes so tattered, that my curiosity was excited to learn at which rent he got into them. His fishing basket was slung at his back, and his rod was composed of odds and ends; his hat, from long exposure to the weather, had lost its crown, while the rim was torn into ribands. If ever the god of love assumed the disguise of ragged poverty, he could not have chosen a better model, both in person and attire. His height was about five feet, nine inches; his face a perfect oval; his hair, which stole in clustering curls from beneath its wretched covering, was of the brightest auburn; his forehead was broad and high; his eyebrows finely arched, and his dark blue eyes were lighted up with the fire of animation; his nose, teeth, and chin were perfectly beautiful; his neck and shoulders would be invaluable to a sculptor; and his whole graceful frame seemed formed for strength and activity. His demeanour was respectful and modest, and the contrast between the noble creature and his sorry garb was painfully striking. There was, however, a look ofindependence and a freedom in his gait, which suited well with the surrounding scene.
The old man seated himself near me, and lamented that he could not obtain any fire to light his pipe. This element I quickly supplied him with, and, lighting a cigar for myself, we resembled a knot of Indian warriors smoking “the calumet of peace.” I entered into conversation, offering my flask, by way of making a favourable impression. They thankfully availed themselves of my offer, and my expectations were not disappointed. The old man told me that he had been a soldier in his youth, and fought in many battles, both in Egypt and Spain, and was now in the receipt of a pension from government, for honourable wounds, which at various times he had received in the service of his country.
While his father whiffed his tobacco, the youth angled down the stream, but soon returned and, respectfully and gracefully declining my invitation to renew his draught, he stood looking down upon us, his arms folded across his chest, embracing his rod, and listening modestly to the old man’s narration. I sat an hour with these two beings, and, having purchased a casting line and some flies from the elder fisherman, he put two extra ones into my hands, saying:“There, sir, are two flies, with which I killed some fine trout, yesterday. I’ll make you a present of them; and, when you are killing your fish, perhaps you’ll think of the old soldier.” So, with mutual thanks, we parted.
As I entered the village of Llandrillo, I was much delighted with the lively scene. The long street was crowded with peasantry, in their holiday clothes. On each side were stalls, formed of tubs turned upside down, and boards placed upon them, to support their merchandise; square patches strewed with straw and covered with crockery and glass; tables well stored with woollen hose and mittens; and stands of gingerbread and ginger-pop were liberally stationed in different quarters, to gratify and refresh the happy throng. At times, a sudden opening in the crowd took place, the whole mass of people jamming each other upon either side of the street, to make way for a trotting pony, or an ambling nag, to curvet and prance down the middle and up again, to show his paces. At the upper end of the fair, a hardware man harangued a crowd of people from his travelling warehouse (a covered cart,) endeavouring to persuade them that he came to Llandrillo solely for their benefit, and for no selfish motive upon earth, and labouring to convince them, inbrazier-like eloquence, that the articles he offered to their notice were considerably under prime cost, and could not be purchased elsewhere for treble the money;—but, though he sold at a great sacrifice to himself, he begged them not to consider his loss, but their own gain; such an opportunity would never again present itself, therefore now was their only time to buy cheap!
A party of Welsh girls attracted my attention, gathered together in front of a wall, upon which a line of men’s hats were ranged, of various qualities and prices; and great glee and laughter were elicited, as each fitted the new beaver upon her head, it being considered the ne plus ultra of taste, and a powerful auxiliary to the coquetry of a Welsh girl.
Leaving Llandrillo, and proceeding towards Bala, the traveller enters the
The mountains here, upon either side, are covered with plantations, and the beautiful Dee winds gracefully in the centre of the valley, through delightful meadows, while corn fields wave upon the sloping banks, and everything presents to the eye the appearance of freshnessand fertility, cheerfulness and content. At the bridge near Llandderfel, a small village, which is first observed upon the opposite bank of the Dee, a splendid view presents itself. The river here is broad, shallow, and deep, by turns, and looking up or down the vale, its meandering sportiveness charms the eye. At the extremity of the valley is a lofty mountain, planted to the summit, which seems so closely to envelop it, as to prevent all egress. To stand upon this bridge at sunset, and listen to the whistle of the sheep boy as he trudges merrily along the road, the song of the husbandman, or the joyous laugh of the milkmaids—sounds that float upon the silent air for miles, at such an hour,—the twittering of the birds, before they hide their heads beneath their wings to seek repose—the low craik of the rail, amidst the corn—and sweeter than all, the music of the river, discharging liquid sounds from its transparent bosom,—creates a sensation which we are at a loss how to express. Excess of pleasure becomes painful; and, overpowered with delight, nature asserts her influence, and we experience the luxury of tears!—at least, I did, and I pity from my soul the man who is unfortunately incapable of a similar feeling.
Passing through the little village of Llanver,and crossing a stream over the bridge close by the lodge of Mr. Price of Rhewlas, I at length arrived at the Bull’s Head in the town, to which house I had been recommended by a passing traveller; and, tired with my day’s exertions, called for a tea-dinner and slippers.
Both these luxuries were furnished me by the fair hands of Martha Jones, the landlady’s unmarried sister, a lively, black-eyed, pretty lass, who, in being a spinster, proves that the Bala lads are greatly deficient in taste, or that Martha has set her cap at something better than is to be found in Bala.
Two gentlemen were seated in the room when I entered, each of whom were discussing the merits of a glass of brandy and water. One of them (a young man who I afterwards discovered was a captain’s clerk in the East India service, upon leave,) was making himself particularly entertaining to his companion, by relating a number of anecdotes about a relative, a clergyman, whose residence is somewhere in the neighbourhood.
“Ha! ha! ha! you remember the time when the dinner was given at —; well, the old boyas usual, had got too much grog aboard, and without a rudder, began to crowd sail for the stable—my eyes! how he did traverse! but at last, a gale took his topsail right aback, and capsising him into the kennel, he began to roar out for help. ‘What’s the matter?’ cried twenty voices at a time. ‘Oh help! help me up,’ cried the old boy, ‘for I’m the Lord’s servant!’ ‘Ay, ay,’ cried one, ‘and you’re like all the rest of ’em, want a good deal of looking after.’ Ha, ha, ha!”
This anecdote, required another glass of brandy and water to wash it down; which being brought, this irreverend humorist rehearsed a number of other circumstances concerning his eccentric relative, amongst which was a story of his ascending the pulpit, to preach a sermon, “and kneeling down,” said he, “he placed his hand upon the cushion, in the attitude of prayer, closed his port holes, and fell into a—sound sleep! The congregation waited—and waited—until their patience was quite exhausted, and one after another began to heave anchor. The clerk, at last, ventured to awaken his pastor just in time for him to see the last of his parishioners leaving the church.”
I was truly sorry to find, upon inquiry, that this was but too true a tale of the old man,whose years are many, and who must be well aware, that a very short time can elapse, before he will become a tenant of the grave.
Wearied with the conversation, I rang for my bed candle, and retired to rest.
Bala—The Lake—A Meeting of Magistrates—The Doctor—Rhewlas—Lines written at Rhewlas—Farewell to the Bull’s Head—A Jolter—Llanthyn—Vale of Drwstynrnt—Legend of handsome Hugh and the Fairy—Cader Idris—Dolgelley—Song “Mountain Mary”—The Town Hall—Parliament House—St. Mary’s Church—Inns—Angling Station, Doluwcheogryd—The Cataracts of Rhaiadr Du and Pistyll y Cain—Nannau Park—Anecdote of Owen Glyndwr and Howell Sele—Road to Barmouth—Arrival—Inns—A Walk on the sands.
“I lay on the rock where the storms have their dwelling,The birth place of phantoms, the home of the cloud,Around it for ever deep music is swelling—The voice of the mountain wind, solemn and loud.”Mrs. Hemans.
“I lay on the rock where the storms have their dwelling,The birth place of phantoms, the home of the cloud,Around it for ever deep music is swelling—The voice of the mountain wind, solemn and loud.”
Mrs. Hemans.
Onthe following morning, I found myself unable to walk, from the effect produced by a sprained ancle, and I had the delightful prospect of being confined to the room of an inn in a country town, without a being to conversewith, or a book to enliven me; but my kind landlord, a fine portly, rosy-cheeked, round-headed, honest-hearted Boniface, as ever drew spigot, kindly offered me a pony, to take me to the lake, which, he said, contained plenty of perch. This offer, I thankfully accepted, and, by the aid of mine host and his ostler, was soon seated upon the back of a quiet not-to-be-put-out-of-his-way animal, as any clerical gentleman could desire to ride upon, and
“With slow and solemn pace,”
“With slow and solemn pace,”
proceeded to catch fish, and view the scenery around
Bala Lake
Seated upon a rock that projects into the lake (under the shadow of which is the boat house of Mr. Price, of Rhewlas, of whom, more anon) I commenced my solitary pastime; but my eyes continually wandered from the float, to the surrounding scenery, which is of a pleasing rather than an imposing nature. The lake was slightly ruffled by a refreshing breeze, which fortunately sprang up, and prevented me from dissolving in the heat of the sun. It is about four miles in length, and in some parts it is forty yardsin depth. The shores are sloping, the soil gravelly, and delightfully variegated with plantations of trees and shrubs. Towards the head of the lake, the mountains are upon a very grand scale, and rival Snowdon in their altitude;Arran Fowddwyis the loftiest of these, near the summit of which, upon its eastern side, beneath a huge crag, is situated a lake, which affords excellent sport to the angler, although the fish are not of the finest quality.
Arrenig Vawr, (or great), which is nearly as lofty as Arran Fowddwy, and rises upon the N.W. side of the Llyn, has also a lake, containing trout of a large size, which are noted for rejecting the artificial fly; but, about half way up theArrenig Vâch, (or little) is a lake, which when a light breeze sweeps along its surface, will amply reward the angler for his trouble, in reaching it. A morning, and an evening, at each of these places, enable me to state thus much, for the benefit of the disciples of Isaac Walton.
I was suddenly aroused from a dream of pleasure, which I was enjoying, with my eyes open, by a tug at my line, reminding me, that a fish had swallowed the hook. After a little coquetting, which lovers usually make use of, I brought it to my arms, and then thrust it intomy bag; a fine perch! I now resolved, to begin in earnest, and in an hour, by my temptation and insinuation, contrived to obtain a very handsome dish, with which I returned upon my pony to the inn, resigning them and myself to the care of Martha Jones. This was the only uncomfortable evening I passed at the Bull—and with respect be it spoken, all my uneasiness was occasioned, by the magistrates of the county, who had met to discuss the important business of their various districts, and to join in the
“Feast of dainties and the flow of port.”
“Feast of dainties and the flow of port.”
All the while, the honest landlord, who resembled a “turtle on his hind fins,” waddled about in high glee. It was a great day for the Bull’s Head! and his joy resembled Dennis Bulgruddery’s, of the Red Cow, when he saw a traveller on the heath, walking in the direction of his long neglected hostelry. The confusion of sounds distracted my brain, and I was almost tempted to exclaim, in the language of Falstaff,
“Is hell broke loose?”
“Is hell broke loose?”
However, remembering that it was occasioned,by a meeting of magistrates, my reverence for the laws, and the distributors of them, made me place my disabled foot upon a chair, “like patience on a monument, smiling at grief.”
I was informed that Mr. Price was among the assembly, to whom, through the kindness of Mr. W—, I had a letter of introduction. My accident, however, would prevent my dining with the party, and I concluded it would be better to wait until the ensuing morning, to pay my respects to him. A couple of ducks, with green peas, and a pint of pale sherry, assisted to restore my good humour; and, after poring over the pages of an old magazine, till the book became a pillow for my head, I had my foot dressed and resigned myself to the influence of Morpheus. My bed room window (the blinds of which, I had neglected to pull down, before I retired to bed) permitted the full blaze of the morning sun to shine upon my slothful pillow, and rouse me from my slumber. A great fault, in all the Welsh inns, is that Morpheus seems to have complete and undisputed prevalence over the whole household. After satisfying myself that I could walk across the room, I thought I would endeavour to see something more of the town, and stroll about, until such time as breakfast could be prepared. I accordinglydressed, put on the spacious slippers I had been provided with on the previous night, took a strong ash stick in my hand, by way of crutch, and hobbled into the pure air.
The town of Bala consists of one long street, has about 2500 inhabitants, and is celebrated for its manufacture of woollen articles, such as stockings, gloves, and, formerly, Welsh wigs. Upon an eminence at the S. E. end of the town, the old women and young girls assemble in considerable numbers during the summer months, to pursue their industrious avocations in the open air. The mound is called,Tommen y Bala; it is said to be of Roman construction; and, from the summit, a very fine view may be obtained of Llyn Tegid and the mountains. There is a town hall, and a chapel of ease to the parish church at Llanycil, about a mile distant, where the morning service is read in English only upon the first Sunday in each month. Finding my exertion too great for my ease, I was glad to hobble into the shop of the village apothecary and surgeon. It was half past eight o’clock, and the drowsy shop boy, who appeared but recently to have left his bed, informed me, that perhaps his master would be down in a short time. This indefinite period did not suit my patience, and I requested himto give his master a call. Still he came not. I became fidgetty, and began to be indignant, half resolving to leave the shop, when a little, stiff, consequential looking personage made his appearance, gazing upon me with a look in which much dissatisfaction was manifest. My travelling garb (for I had not discarded my shooting jacket, at this early hour, in favour of a more appropriate morning costume) did not inspire him with much suavity; but, after a minute survey, he, with all the dignity of five feet, pointed to a chair, which I a short time before had quitted to look at some maps that adorned the walls of the room, I bared my ancle for his inspection, and he informed me truly, that rest alone could be of service to me. With this comfortable advice, which I had previously determined not to follow, I returned to the inn, breakfasted, ordered out the pony, and set off to visit Mr. Price, of Rhewlas.
A handsome gateway opens into the grounds of Rhewlas; a neat lodge is situated upon the right of the avenue, and upon the left, a fine mountain stream dashes over its black, rocky bed. Half way up the avenue, upon the right, is a beautiful dingle, over which a bridge is thrown for the accommodation of passengers, and under it a murmuring rill, glides on its course to the principalstream. A profusion of rhododandrums, of a kind, are interspersed amongst the trees, and shrubs, forming a delightful contrast. Here the noble oak, the beech, and birch, flourish luxuriously in common with the other numerous leafy tenants of the forest, whose ever varying hues delight the eye.
The house is situated on a rising ground, backed by the mountain and extensive woods, and commands a noble prospect.
After dinner, I accompanied Mr. Price in his phaeton, to take a survey of the estate, and was much delighted with the evident pleasure he took, in improving the roads in the neighbourhood. Under his auspices, a new line of road is joined to Corwen, which, although deficient in picturesque beauty, is shorter by one mile than that by Llandrillo, and affords far better travelling.
Mr. Price has planted, during his residence at this lovely spot, no less than 650 acres, and the domain altogether presents a picture of beauty and happiness, seldom to be met with. He is much respected; is a magistrate, and a resident; and, in consequence, knows the value of his land. He considers, and administers to the wants of his tenants, and, instead of extorting from them a rent they would be compelledto starve themselves to pay, he limits it to a sum which will enable them to live in comfort.
It was twilight when I left Rhewlas, and by the side of the dingle I have before mentioned, I paused to gaze once more upon the beauty of the scene, and traced a few lines, expressive of my feelings, upon quitting so delightful a solitude.
Farewell to fair Rhewlas! and farewell to thee,Thou pride of the vallies, thou fast flowing Dee!Whose stream glides in brightness from Bala’s fair breast,And wanders in beauty through regions of rest.Farewell to thee, Rhewlas! how blest were my lot,With friends round and near me, the gay world forgot,Here, here, in the soft lap of quiet to dwell,Farewell to thee Rhewlas! sweet Rhewlas, farewell!The bright golden summer hath fill’d thee with glee—The song of the thrush, and the boom of the bee,The wild flowers’ fragrance, the breath of the rose,And green woods that kiss the dark stream as it flows:To scenes grand and gloomy my footsteps may stray,Where terror frowns dreadful along the wild way,But beauty for aye in this region shall dwell,Farewell to thee, Rhewlas! sweet Rhewlas, farewell!
Farewell to fair Rhewlas! and farewell to thee,Thou pride of the vallies, thou fast flowing Dee!Whose stream glides in brightness from Bala’s fair breast,And wanders in beauty through regions of rest.Farewell to thee, Rhewlas! how blest were my lot,With friends round and near me, the gay world forgot,Here, here, in the soft lap of quiet to dwell,Farewell to thee Rhewlas! sweet Rhewlas, farewell!
The bright golden summer hath fill’d thee with glee—The song of the thrush, and the boom of the bee,The wild flowers’ fragrance, the breath of the rose,And green woods that kiss the dark stream as it flows:To scenes grand and gloomy my footsteps may stray,Where terror frowns dreadful along the wild way,But beauty for aye in this region shall dwell,Farewell to thee, Rhewlas! sweet Rhewlas, farewell!
I returned to the inn, much pleased with my day’s entertainment, happy to find that my ancle was comparatively easy, and ordered acar to be ready on the following morning to convey me ten miles on the road to Dolgelly.
Rising early, I found no inconvenience from my ancle; and, after a good breakfast, took leave of my host, and his wife, of Martha Jones, and the Bull’s Head, all of whom appeared anxious to see me comfortably seated in the vehicle, and with kindest farewells, expressed a desire of speedily seeing me again—all excepting the Bull’s Head, poor thing, which being a dummy only looked a good bye; and taking every thing into consideration, he looked it very well.
The car in which I was bumped along the road, in every respect resembled those delightful conveyances that rattle the astonished traveller from Cork to Blarney. It is a sort of oval box, placed upon two wheels, with a door behind, and with good wedging will contain four persons; but being springless and cushionless, the passenger is jolted to his heart’s content, that is, if his heart has been set on jolting; and, without doubt, it is fine exercise for persons of sedentary habits, if by any chance, their bones happen to escape dislocation. My knapsack (my opposite, and only fellow passenger) and I, looked very black at each other, as we bobbed up and down, like a cockney grocer’s apprentice upon a high trotting horse; but I soon became resigned, and myknapsack having shifted its berth for the bottom of the vehicle, seemed to rest more comfortably than on the seat. Notwithstanding the inconvenience I suffered from this carriage, I could not help admiring the extreme beauty of the lake, as we pursued our course along its borders; sometimes, only catching a glimpse of it, through the trees that shaded its delightful margin. Its waters were smooth and motionless; not a ripple was visible upon its surface; the lofty mountains reflected in its breast gave a sombre tinge to the otherwise golden scene, and, as I looked into the clear depths of the shadows, I thought, how peacefully one shattered by the storms of life might sink beneath, and be at rest!
After passing Llanthyn, (an estate belonging to Sir W. W. Wynn, who claims the whole fishing of this beautiful piece of water, and has, by putting a quantity of pike therein, destroyed all the trout and gwynniad with which it once abounded), the scenery became wild, and cheerless, until we reached
where, to my great satisfaction, the car stopped at the sign of the Welsh Prince, a distance of ten miles from Bala, and eight from Dolgelly.Being thoroughly tired with my ride, I thought I would endeavour to obtain the proper use of my limbs, and rest myself by walking the remainder of the journey. Dismissing the car, therefore, and strapping my knapsack to my shoulders, I once more took the road.
About a mile beyond the Welsh Prince, the valley becomes truly beautiful. Waving woods adorn the mountains upon either side. The Wnion here begins to be an important stream; and, though in its course towards Dolgelly it is swelled by numerous mountain tributaries into a broad river, the trees upon its banks form an impenetrable screen, which conceal it from the traveller, and its hoarse murmur, as it dashes over the rocks that vainly endeavour to intercept its way, alone remind him of its vicinity. At length, I arrived at a spot, where a road leads over a bridge to the opposite side of the river. Thinking this would be a proper place to see the Wnion to advantage, I advanced to the centre of the bridge. The effect is beautiful; hanging woods adorn the banks of the stream, lofty ash trees, (around the trunks of which the ivy winds itself in snakelike folds, feeding upon the tree that supports it), spread their proud heads above, and form a pleasing shade, while below the river roars, as it is precipitated beneath thearch in two large falls, that form a deep pool on the opposite side.
“It was in that pool,” said a voice at my shoulder, “that Hugh Evans first saw the fairy.” Upon turning round, I saw an old man, much bent with age, knitting hose.
“What fairy, my good man?” said I, “and who was Hugh Evans?”
“Ah! you are a stranger here, sir. Why, it’s a tale my grandfather used to tell me, of a lad, who worked with him in the fields yonder.”
Hugh was a handsome lad, and all the girls were mad for love of him; but he was a prudent youth, and would not notice any of them, for he thought as he could hardly earn enough to support himself, he had no chance of supporting others. Well, one day as he was returning from work, he leant over the bridge, where you are now standing, sir, and what should he see, but a beautiful young creature, bathing in the deep water there. Well, he knew it was a fairy, for he never had seen any thing half so beautiful before; and he couldn’t for the life of him take his eyes from her, though she was as naked (saving your presence) as when she was born.She had long black hair, streaming down her shoulders, as glossy as a crow’s wing, and the smallest feet, and hands, he ever beheld! and the beautiful fairy said to him, “Hugh, handsome Hugh, why did you come hither? but, since you are here, turn your head aside, till I get out of the stream, and then I’ll come and talk to you.” And Hugh did as he was bid, for he was too much in love to deny her any thing; and, before he could recover his surprise, there was the fairy, close by his side, in the dress of a neat country lass. And her snowy feet, and her raven locks, red lips, and sparkling eyes, made Hugh’s heart knock at his ribs, like a smith’s hammer on the anvil. So what does he do, but drop down upon his knees, and swore he was dying for love of the angel. “I’m no angel at all,” says she, “but a foolish body of a fairy, that has fallen in love with handsome Hugh, and, if you’ll consent to my wishes in one respect, I’ll be a fond wife to you all the days of your life.” Hugh was delighted to hear her talk, and he promised to do every thing she wished. “All I desire,” said she, “is that you will permit me to leave you every night at twelve o’clock for one hour, and never attempt to follow me, or ask where I have been. But, if you follow me, you will never see me again, and you will onlyhave to thank your own folly and rashness for it.” Hugh promised faithfully, and the fairy provided him with money enough to buy a neat little cottage on the hill yonder, and to stock it with a cow, pigs, and poultry. He likewise bought ten acres of land, and every body wondered how Hugh Evans became so rich on a sudden, but they supposed it was his wife’s fortune, though they never could find out who she was. For many years they lived together, and she bore him two girls, both resembling the mother, and their comeliness was the talk of the country. Marriage had no power to destroy the beauty of the fairy’s form or face, for eternal youth and loveliness were part of her portion.
But Hugh got jealous of a neighbour, whom he used to invite to his house in the winter evenings, and he fancied that his wife paid him more attention than was necessary. Until that time, he never cared about her absence at midnight but the “green eyed monster;” whispered to him that she had other than honest motives, for absenting herself from home at that late hour. And one night, when his neighbour, Davie Jones, happened to be more animated than usual with the good woman his hostess, who was always desirous of making Hugh’s friends welcome, he gave her a kiss at partingthat went to the heart of poor Hugh; and he determined to look after her that night when she left his bed, to discover if his suspicions were well founded. Accordingly, pretending to sleep, he watched his wife when she rose up. The first thing she did was to go to her children, whom she kissed, and by the light of the moon, which shone brightly through the casement, he saw her suddenly (without the aid of toilet labour) arrayed in a gossamer robe of rose coloured pink, through which her beautiful skin was dimly perceptible, and her exquisite form fully displayed to his astonished eyes; the right arm and breast were bare, while the drapery was secured upon the left shoulder, and at the waist with clasps of costly gems.
“Her black luxuriant ringlets, contrasted with her snowy neck, her dark eyes flashing with delight, and her red pouting lips,” said poor Hugh, “made me motionless with admiration, which was increased by seeing her leap, through the open casement! Terrified lest she should be dashed to pieces by the fall—filled with fury at her being thus decked out to meet her paramour, with desperate eagerness I darted out of the window in pursuit. The height was considerable. I caught a glimpse in my descent, of her fairy form as she reached the summitof the hill, and then all sense forsook me. When restored to consciousness, I found myself stretched upon my bed; both my legs broken by the fall, and my head sorely bruised. Upon asking for Lleucu, my wife, I was told she had never been seen since I beheld her. My friend Davie was attending me affectionately, bathing my temples with cold lotions; and my heart smote me for my suspicions. Night came, and, as the hour approached when Lleucu departed, I became restless and feverish, when a voice, which I knew to be Lleucu’s, entered my chamber; it sang as follows:
“Farewell Hugh, handsome Hugh,Don’t forget thy poor Lleucu!O’er thy limbs I spread a charm,And to-morrow, free from harm,To thine honest labour hie,To support our progeny.Oh, protect their tender years,Bless my hopes and soothe my fears!Farewell, Hugh, handsome Hugh,Don’t forget thy poor Lleucu!”
“Farewell Hugh, handsome Hugh,Don’t forget thy poor Lleucu!O’er thy limbs I spread a charm,And to-morrow, free from harm,To thine honest labour hie,To support our progeny.Oh, protect their tender years,Bless my hopes and soothe my fears!Farewell, Hugh, handsome Hugh,Don’t forget thy poor Lleucu!”
“I would have given my life to have seen her again,” continued Hugh; “but I lost her for ever. The next morning, faithful to her promise, I was indeed perfectly free from pain; my limbs were as strong as at the moment when Isprang from the window; but my heart was broken.”
“May be, sir, you’d like to buy a pair of stockings or mittens,” said the old man, without pausing to notice the effect his tale had upon me, and pulling the articles out of his coat pocket as he spoke. I could not resist the appeal, and, giving him the price he demanded, I pursued my journey towards Dolgelly. Nearly the whole of this lovely valley is the property of Sir Robert Vaughan.
I was meditating upon the romantic tale of the old man, when suddenly a turn in the road and an opening in the dell revealed to my delighted eyes the celebrated mountain called Cader Idris.
Cader Idris, from the Bala Road
the loftiest mountain in Merionethshire, and the second in North Wales, is said to be 950 yards in perpendicular height from Dolgelly Green. Cader Idris literally means “Idris’s chair,” where he is supposed to have studied astrology; and Idris is a name attributed to Enoch, the founder of astronomy. Mr. Edward Jones, to whom the public are indebted for his learned and ingenious work, entitled “The Bardic Museum,” observes that “CærIdris implies the city of the learned:” and Mr. Rowland, in his “Mona Antiqua,” mentions a place in Anglesea called Cær Idris, also Bôd Idris, or “Idris’s abode or mansion,” in Yale, Denbighshire, which still retains the name, as well as that of Llêch Idris, or “the shelter of Idris,” a farm so called, at Trawsoynydd in Merionethshire, which also may imply the grave of Idris. Idris is supposed to have flourished in the third or fourth century, and his genealogy from an old manuscript, runs thus:—“Idris Gawr ab Gwyddno, ab Tibion, ab Cunedda Wledig.”
Snowdon and Cader Idris were formerly supposed to be the Parnassian hills of Wales, and none but good bards could claim so elevated a seat.
Idris, the champion or bard, invented the harp; or, if the Gomerian Britons brought that instrument into the country when they first inhabited the island, it seems to have been lost and forgotten; for Idris is said to have invented something similar; but it is probable he only made some improvement on the ancient harp, or perhaps his superior skill in performing on it might have gained him that reputation. From all that can be gathered from tradition, he was a learned man, an astrologer, and a bard; and itis likely that the summit of this mountain was chosen by him, to examine from thence the movements of the heavenly bodies, to write his inspired verses, or to frame laws for the government and benefit of his country.
The walk from this spot to Dolgelly is exceedingly beautiful; and as the tourist approaches the town before crossing the bridge which is flung over the river Mawddach, a sign of some importance attracts his attention upon the right: it runs thus:
R. PUGH,Guide GeneralTo the Waterfalls, Cader Idris,And all the curious scenery inThe vicinity of Dolgelly.N.B. Licenced to let saddled horses.
R. PUGH,Guide GeneralTo the Waterfalls, Cader Idris,And all the curious scenery inThe vicinity of Dolgelly.
N.B. Licenced to let saddled horses.
or Dolgellen, the Dale of the Hazel, is the principal market town in Merionethshire, and the assizes are held here, alternately with Bala. The town hall, the most important building, is a neat stone edifice, erected in the year 1825, and cost £3000. It is built near the banks of the river Wnion, (pronounced Oonion) and thecourt room is fitted up with every necessary accommodation for the officers of justice. In the hall is a very fine portrait of Sir R. W. Vaughan, Bart., painted by Sir M. A. Shee, F.R.A.
Parliament House of Owen Glyndwr
Part of an old building, called “Cwrt Plâs yn-y Drêv,” or the Town-hall Court is still remaining, amongst a range of wretched hovels, at the back of the post office, in which a parliament was held by Owen Glyndwr. The county jail at the outskirts of the town is of a semicircular form, built of stone, and was erected in 1811, at an expense of £5000.
St. Mary’s Church is a neat limestone edifice, of Grecian architecture, with a handsome tower, and an expansive nave. In it is an ancient monument of an armed knight, who is represented in a suit of mail, helmet, a neck guard, a sword in his hand, and a dog at his feet; a lion passant gardant is on his shield, upon which is inscribed: “Hic jacet Mauric Filius Ynyr Vychan.” There is a modern one lately erected to the memory of Baron Richards.
The town is celebrated for a manufacture of coarse woollen cloths and flannels, called webs. The old town hall is used for various purposes; English church service is performed there every other Sunday; it is also used as a nationalschool, and children are there taught to sing the church psalms. It is likewise known as the theatre, and a Mr. Glover (son of Mrs. Glover, of the London theatres) is the manager. It is kept open sometimes for two months successively; admittance to boxes 2s, pit 1s.
Those fond of fine scenery should ascend the mountain from the north side of the vale, to obtain the best view of the town, as it lies sheltered at the foot of the majestic Cader Idris, which rears its lofty shoulders in the clouds.
Clustering woods adorn the opposite range of mountains, as they slope in irregular masses westward to the ocean; and in the midst may be distinguished the residences of Mr. Reveley and Captain Anwyl.
The river beautifully meandering through the green meadows, the solemn quietude that prevails around, disturbed only by the sound of the church clock, marking the progress of the fleeting hours with lengthened tone, which, like the music of another world, sweeps through the enchanting vale, combine to render this a place where those not wedded to routs, masquerades, gambling and licentiousness, might wish to live and die.
Dolgelly contains several good inns, of which the most frequented are the Golden lion, theAngel and the Ship. Comfortable lodgings may likewise be obtained, at a cheap rate, by those who desire to remain in the neighbourhood for the purpose of making excursions to the falls, Kymmer Abbey, and Nannau Park, the fishing stations, Dol y Gamedd on the Avon, Llyn Cregenan, Llyn Gador, Llyn Geirw, Tal y llyn, &c.[176]
the residence of Mr. Roland Williams, is delightfully situated on the side of a mountain rising from this vale. I have read of a man who made search through the world for true hospitality, and returned to his cell without finding it. It is certain that he never entered the abode of Mr. R. Williams, which is the habitation of unaffected kindness, unpresuming intelligence, and unostentatious hospitality—the retreat of peace, love and friendship, where the stranger is received with warmth and cordiality, his wants anxiously anticipated and administered to, where the cheerful glass is rendered doubly valuable by the accompaniment of a hearty welcome, and where the administering hands of the fair inmates render every species of generosity doubly dear to the favoured individualwho is admitted into that happy sanctuary. The only feeling of regret I experienced while at Doluwcheogryd was occasioned by the necessity of leaving it so soon.
The tourist should not quit Dolgelly without visiting the waterfalls, which, after heavy rains, are very magnificent. As I was still suffering from the severe sprain, I was accommodated by Mr. Williams, who also obliged me with his company, with a very fine horse to carry me to the falls; and bold and sure-footed, he performed his duty nobly, in spite of crags, cliffs, hills and hollows.
Passing the house of Miss Madock, daughter of the late William Alexander Madock, Esq., we came to the cataract.
is situated in the grounds belonging to this lady, called Dôl melynllyn. Here the torrent leaps from a height of sixty feet over precipitous rocks, and plunges with a violence that seems to shake the crags and trees around, into a deep pool, from which it proceeds adown the dingle, over black and broken fragments, to the river Mawddach. A footpath conducts the tourist to the bottom of the falls, from which, stepping upon some loose stones in the middle of thestream, he will obtain the best view of the cataract. A walk of about three miles brings him to the falls of the Mawddach and Pistyll y Cain, returning from which, he may visit Y Vanner, or Kymmer Abbey, founded in 1198, by Meredith and Griffith, lords of Merioneth, dedicated to St. Mary, and inhabited by monks of the Cistertian order. It is not now, however, worthy of the tourist’s attention. But Nannau Park, the seat of Sir Robert William Vaughan, will afford much pleasure to those who visit it. The grounds are thickly wooded, and the mansion is supposed to occupy the highest ground of any residence in Britain. The approach to it is five miles in length; it stands 702 feet above the level of the sea; and the park is celebrated for its venison. Previously to the year 1814, there stood an oak in this park which bore a name terrible to the ears of the peasantry: it was called
which translated, means, “the hollow oak, the haunt of demons.” In this oak, it is said Owen Glyndwr immured the body of Howell Sele, the proprietor of this estate, who, while they were walking together, treacherously shot an arrow at the breast of Glyndwr, who, however, havingarmour beneath his doublet, fortunately received no hurt. The cause of this treachery is said to have been the indignation expressed by Owen at his kinsman’s refusal to join his cause to redress his country’s wrongs. Glyndwr forced his body into the hollow of this oak, most likely after having slain him, where, forty years after this event, a skeleton was discovered. The chieftain, after laying waste the mansion and domain of Sele, hastened to join his friends. Sir W. Scott has written a very beautiful poem upon this legend, which will be found in the fifth note to his sixth canto of Marmion, and is called the “spirit’s blasted tree.” In 1813, this monarch of the wood fell to the ground.
The country from Dolgelly to the mouth of the river is well worth a journey of three hundred miles to visit, even though there were no other objects worthy of notice in North Wales, and will amply compensate the most eager researcher after the sublime and beautiful.
At a turn of the coach road from a place called Te-gwyn, a splendid view of Cader Idris is obtained, particularly in the evening, when the mists arise from the numerous lakes in the vicinity, like volumes of smoke from a domain of fire, curling in fantastic forms around the mountain’s waist, leaving its summit stern andclear in an unclouded sky—like a proud giant surveying with disdain the dwarfish host of which he is the leader.
Thou mighty Cader, whose commanding headIs alway canopied with winter’s snow,Whose form is rent in many a chasm dread,Adown whose sides the dashing torrents flow,And in primeval majesty still throwTheir flakes of foam into the gulph below!Mine eyes dwell on thy terrors, and my heartExpands and trembles with a nameless glow!Wildest of all the mountain kind thou art,The rampart that protects old Cambria’s heart.Land of the free! amid thy giant hills,Whose regal heads appear to prop the skies,Oh what a thrilling awe my bosom fillsWhile gazing on thy dark sublimities!Mountains on mountains, peaks on peaks arise,Like tents belonging to some Titan race,Who choosing highest ground, nighest the God,Again defy the thunderer, face to face,From heights more vast than Alpine foot e’er trod,And undismayed await his dreadful nod.
Thou mighty Cader, whose commanding headIs alway canopied with winter’s snow,Whose form is rent in many a chasm dread,Adown whose sides the dashing torrents flow,And in primeval majesty still throwTheir flakes of foam into the gulph below!Mine eyes dwell on thy terrors, and my heartExpands and trembles with a nameless glow!Wildest of all the mountain kind thou art,The rampart that protects old Cambria’s heart.
Land of the free! amid thy giant hills,Whose regal heads appear to prop the skies,Oh what a thrilling awe my bosom fillsWhile gazing on thy dark sublimities!Mountains on mountains, peaks on peaks arise,Like tents belonging to some Titan race,Who choosing highest ground, nighest the God,Again defy the thunderer, face to face,From heights more vast than Alpine foot e’er trod,And undismayed await his dreadful nod.
Another noble view attracts attention, at a place called Glan Mawddach—the broad arm of the sea, stretching for miles between the rugged mountains, which, shrouded in veils of silvery mist, fling their dark shadows into the depths of the water. Proceeding onwards, theseat of the late A. Wynne, Esq., called Athog, now the residence of Mr. Fowden, becomes conspicuous upon the south side of the mouth of the Mawddach, and beyond the extremity of the Bay Celylin point, and the church of which the Rev. J. Parry is rector. The bishop has the power of appointing a curate; but Mr. Parry retains the tithes to himself. Arriving at
the coach stopped at the Cors-y-gedol arms; but I proceeded to the Commercial inn, where there is very good accommodation, and a good look-out seaward. A warm bath of sea water refreshed me; and by the star light I strolled upon the sands, which are very hard and pleasant to walk upon, while my repast was preparing at the inn. The night was calm and serene, and my mind naturally adapted itself to the surrounding scene. “The brave o’erhanging firmament—the majestical roof fretted with golden fire,” appeared to me far from being “a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.” My soul took wing, and bounded from star to star, leaping the realms of space, and plunging into infinity, till wearied with its immeasurable flight, it resought its earthly tenement, and mybody, which it left immoveable, as if transformed to marble, resumed its functions. The low moan of the ocean swam on my ear, like heavenly music. A light breeze brought with it delicious freshness; and, as I looked towards the land, all seemed as quiet as the abode of peace. The lights from the houses had a pleasing effect, as they streamed through the windows, row above row, under and upon the side of the overhanging cliffs.
I returned to “mine inn,” and my meal being despatched, retired to bed.
Description of Barmouth—Sketch of the Town—The Estuary—Friar’s Island—Dinas Gortin—Earl of Richmond—Anecdote of the men of Ardudwy, and the men of Denbighshire—Mostyn Hall—A pic-nic party—Llyn Cwm Bychan—Carreg y Saeth—The Witch of Cwm Bychan—Legendary Tale—Bwlch Tyddiad—A mountain ride and a regretful farewell.
“The mountayne men live longer many a yeareThen those in vale, in plaine, or marrish soyle;A lustie hart, a cleene complexion cleere,They have on hill that for hard living toyle;With ewe and lambe, with goats and kinds they play,In greatest toyles to rub out wearie day;And when to house and home good fellowes drawThe lads can laugh at turning of a strawe.”CHURCHYARD.
“The mountayne men live longer many a yeareThen those in vale, in plaine, or marrish soyle;A lustie hart, a cleene complexion cleere,They have on hill that for hard living toyle;With ewe and lambe, with goats and kinds they play,In greatest toyles to rub out wearie day;And when to house and home good fellowes drawThe lads can laugh at turning of a strawe.”
CHURCHYARD.
Barmouth, or Aber-Maw, derives its name from being situated at the embouchure of the river Maw or Mawddach, which at the entrance is obstructedby a bar. The old town, viewed from the sea, resembles a fortress of some strength, hanging immediately over the sands. In most cases a lofty situation is an advantage, but here it is the reverse; for so steep is the side of the cliff on which it stands, that the inhabitants of the upper regions are completely smoke-dried from the chimneys of all the dwellings beneath.
The new town stands at the base of the rock, and but for some mounds of sand, that appear likely to grow into mountains by the influence of the winds and waves, would inevitably be washed away by the spring tides. Some of the fishermen’s habitations on the beach are at times buried in the drifting sands; and, after a strong wind from the seaward, the inhabitants generally labour hard to clear the obstruction from their doors.
Barmouth had few visitors during my stay, and from the report of those I met with, is greatly decreasing in popularity, which says but little in favour of the lovers of fine scenery. When the tide is at full, the panorama around the estuary cannot be surpassed in beauty. The majestic river winds amongst rocks, clad with purple heather, or projecting in barren grandeur, that lift their jagged summits tier over tier, and peak overtopping peak, while still tremendous, toweringover all, the lofty Idris looms in the back ground. Green hills and woody promontories, forests that stretch into the dark recesses of the mountains, villas and copsewood glens, give an endless variety to the romantic scene.
The town contains about 2,000 inhabitants, and there is a manufactory of flannels and woollen stockings.
At noon, as I was basking upon the sands, or Friar’s island, which is situated at the mouth of the river, I had the pleasure to see my new acquaintance and friend gallop into the town, and old Charon having ferried me from the island to the main land once more, I hastened to welcome him, as fast as my damaged limb would suffer me. He proposed driving me to Mostyn Hall, the seat of the Hon. E. M. L. Mostyn; which being agreed to, I ordered dinner to be ready at our return, and we started. The drive upon the Harlech road is bleak; upon the right, the hills are barren; and seaward, beneath the road, is an extensive flat, consisting chiefly of bog land and far from interesting. About a mile and a half from the town, stands the church of Llan Aber, upon the extreme verge of a cliff which overlooks the ocean. The Carnaervonshire mountains have a fine effect stretching into the sea; of which the Rivals,with their lofty peaks, are noble objects in the distance. Following the chain, the eye rests for a moment upon Garn Bodean, and in the flat between it and Garn Madryn is the town of Pwllhely. The chain is resumed at Rhew mountain, and terminates at Aberdarron point, three leagues from which is Bardsey Island, a conspicuous and interesting object; for there dwelt the bards of old, amongst whom were numbered the fathers of science, the national interpreters, musicians, and legislators, priests, and princes of Cambria. With their oratory they soothed the savage ignorance of mankind into civilization and knowledge, and polished their minds with the powerful aid of music and poetry. After the dreadful slaughter of the monks of Bangor, those who survived took shelter upon this island. A few ruined walls alone remain of the ancient abbey; and the inhabitants, who do not exceed one hundred persons, support themselves chiefly by fishing.
About three miles from Barmouth, upon the summit of the mountain called Dinas Gortin, are the remains of a military encampment, and near to the town there stood a tower, where it is said the Earl of Richmond used to conceal himself, when he visited his secret allies in this part of the country.
Near the military station, are the tombs of the celebrated men of Ardudwy; who, in imitation of the Roman robbers, made an excursion into Denbighshire, and overcoming the men, forcibly tore the women from their families, and returned in triumph with them to their own country.
But the men of Denbighshire, rallying, pursued the spoilers, and overtaking them in the pass of Drws ardydwy, routed them with great slaughter. But the infatuated women had by this time conceived so extraordinary a passion for their violators, that rather than survive their loss, or perhaps more probably, to escape the fury of their former husbands, they drowned themselves in a lake, which is called the pool of Morwynion.
About two miles further, a road up a steep ascent, conducted us to a fine avenue of trees, through which we passed, and at the termination of it came to a handsome gateway, called Pat Mawr, which admitted us into the mansion of Cors y gedol, which has nothing in it to interest the tourist. The interior of the building is incommodious and inelegant. The drawing-room contains a few wretched portraits and high-backed chairs; and the rest of the apartments are meanly furnished. The only object of interestis a window, out of which the Earl of Richmond, afterwards Henry VII, is said to have leaped, when a party of Richard III’s soldiers attempted to apprehend him; it is called the king’s window.
We returned to Barmouth by the sea shore, and, after a most delightful drive upon Neptune’s boundaries, arrived at the inn, where the evening was passed in conviviality, tempered with prudence, and sweetened by social and interesting conversation. As I had determined upon proceeding to Harlech the following day, my companion was resolved to make the journey as agreeable as possible, and requesting me to forward my knap-sack &c., by the coach, informed me that he would be ready to accompany me in the morning. Requesting him, therefore, to be early at breakfast, we parted for the night.
After despatching a hasty meal next morning, the word was given “to horse and away.” My old favourite who bore me so gallantly to the black cataract, was again resigned to my care, and I to his, gentle as a lamb, proud as a war horse and agile as an antelope. I felt like an Arab, on his steed, and I thought I could defy the winds to overtake me. We proceeded once more to Mostyn Hall, which was the appointed spot of rendezvous for a pic-nic party. Here Ihad the happiness of meeting some of the choicest flowers of the Welsh Highlands. Youth, beauty, freedom, and innocence, beamed from the laughing eyes and unsullied cheeks of our fair companions. The “how d’ye do’s?” “glad to see you,” “fine morning,” &c. &c., being ended, we moved forward in a formidable cavalcade. Mirth, wit and pleasure played on the lips and sparkled in the eyes of the whole party; and the animals that bore us seemed to partake of the general feeling, by pricking up their glossy ears, and bounding over the rugged road with more spirit than prudence. Much mirth was occasioned by the opening of gates, and crossing of brooks. At length, the party plunged into a beautiful wood. I paused upon an eminence, to mark the effect as they descended; it was picturesque in the extreme, as at intervals, through the openings, I caught a partial glimpse of the troop, pursuing their cheerful way down the steep path. Pleased with the sight, I passed the party at a gallop, and arriving at the foot of the hill, remained upon a bridge, close by the woodman’s cottage, which crosses a mountain stream, watching their approach.
It was delightful to see them advancing one by one through the thick foliage which hung oneither side of the path, and arching over their heads. On arriving at the foot of the descent, the party drew up, and, had an artist been among us, I am confident he would have produced a picture, which, even on the lifeless canvass, would have delighted the connoisseurs of Somerset House.
The variety of costume, the colour of the horses, the general sensation of delight which lighted up the features of the gay group; the picturesque cottage and bridge, the broad rushing stream, the waving woods, with now and then a glimpse of the sterile mountains, peeping above the beautiful fertility, formed a landscape which Salvator Rosa himself would have been delighted to delineate.
Penetrating through a woody maze, a glen upon our right, and huge wild masses of rock towering above our heads, we passed Crafnant; a house situated in the deep shade of the lonely wood, the residence of Mr. Owen, a surgeon; who, from our not having for a long range of country encountered a civilized residence, barring the woodman’s cottage, I felt half inclined to think was only attendant on the quadrupeds of the mountain. The rocks now assumed a wild and threatening aspect upon our left, as we emerged into a more open track, and enteredupon the domain of Dolwreiddiog, where Mr. Mawhans has a snug shooting box, a little beyond which, commences perhaps the wildest scenery in North Wales. Descending by a rocky path, we came to
or, the lake of the little hollow, on the opposite margin of which, the wild and dismal Carrey-y-Saeth, the rock of the arrow, rears its black head in fearful grandeur. Cwm Bychan, is a grassy dell, surrounded on all sides by the most frightful sterility; which while we gazed with wonder on the sublimity of the scene, made us shudder at the utter desolation it presented. A poor cottage stands on the farther end of the valley, from which, having obtained a plentiful supply of milk, we dismounted, and, fastening our steeds to the gates, we seated ourselves under the shade of two trees, upon the inviting grass, which, like the smiles of the world, proved but too treacherous; many a scream and laugh announcing that the boggy soil had paid no respect to the garments of either sex. Stones were therefore procured, and, having ranged them in a magic circle, the whole party seated themselves to partake of the good cheer, whicha sturdy Welshman had borne upon his shoulders, and who now advanced into the middle of the ring. Knives and forks began to play with astonishing celerity. Fowls, ham, tongue, &c. &c., vanished as if by enchantment; and mirth and good humour added zest to the repast.
In this hollow there dwelt a witch called Janet, and a story is told, which, as its wildness is well adapted to the scenery, I will endeavour to relate. The circumstances are said to have been confessed by old Janet, when under the last torture.
In the year 1647, when the Parliamentary forces were besieging the castle of Harlech, there happened to be a sturdy trooper, named Jacob Strong-ith-arm, amongst them, a raw-boned man, of about forty years of age, who had a most sanctimonious visage, and a strong nasal twang, which the hypocrites he commanded generally affected as the acceptable tone in which the Lord delighted. He had in his youth been a butcher’s boy; but sanctity and the cutting the throats of the royalists had elevated him to the rank of captain in Oliver’s army. This man being stationed under General Mytton, during the siege of Harlech Castle, fanciedhimself in love with Mary Carrol, the daughter of a farmer in the neighbourhood, who was shrewdly suspected of being a favourer of the besieged party. This, however, Jacob did not choose to notice; and, whenever an assault upon the castle was repulsed by the royalists, he returned to lay siege to the heart of Mary Carrol, who had an utter abhorrence to all fanatics and sanctified faces.
“Verily, Mrs. Mary Carrol,” he would say, “I love thee!”
“And by the honour of a cavalier,” replied the maiden, “I love thee not, Jacob;” for she concealed not her attachment to the royal party, although her father constantly cautioned her to do so.
Long and vainly did Jacob endeavour to obtain the young girl’s affections. At length, he bethought himself of Janet, the witch of Cwm Bychan, whose fame was spread for many a mile the country round; and one evening in March a man muffled in a horseman’s cloak was seen stumbling over the broken rocks and patches of broom and furze that impeded his way to the cottage where she lived. The moon was obscured by the density of the atmosphere, and small dark remnants of clouds swept midway through the valley, portending heavy rain andtempest. Often did he kneel and lift his trembling hands, as if in prayer, as he approached the cottage, and many times did he turn round affrighted, believing he heard a brownie brush behind him. At length, he saw a small white dog running towards him, wagging its tail, and looking very glad to see him. Notwithstanding all these tokens of welcome, the teeth of Jacob chattered in his head, as he followed his canine conductor, and his heart sank within him.
When he came to the door, it seemed to fly open without the aid of hands, and, in the middle of the hut, over a turf fire, sat Janet the witch. “Come in!” said she, and repeated these doggerel lines:
“Thou lovest a young and a pretty bird,And little she cares for thee;But Mary shall carol, and love thee well,If thou’lt give gold to me.”
“Thou lovest a young and a pretty bird,And little she cares for thee;But Mary shall carol, and love thee well,If thou’lt give gold to me.”
“By the devil and all his imps, Janet,” said Jacob, mustering up all the courage he could to support his profanity, “I’ll give thee a hundred good pounds if thou wilt make her love me.”
“It’s a bargain!” quoth Janet, and she griped his hand till he thought he felt all theblood in his body running out at his fingers ends, and then she gave him this warning:
“When the change is wrought, shouldst thou in aught’Gainst thy free oath rebel,Soon shall, in dole, Harlech’s bell tollA sinner’s parting knell!”
“When the change is wrought, shouldst thou in aught’Gainst thy free oath rebel,Soon shall, in dole, Harlech’s bell tollA sinner’s parting knell!”
“Go thou to Mary’s cottage to-morrow morning by the ninth hour; thou shalt find her mind altered, and on the third morning will I call on thee for the fulfilment of thy promise. Away!”
As she spoke, he found himself suddenly whisked away into the centre of a furze bush, where, stuck fast, he stood gaping at the door of the cottage, which closed against him, as if by enchantment, and all was as quiet as before he had entered it, save the whistling wind and the driving rain, which the clouds now discharged in torrents.
A festival was to be held that night on the side of Mount Atlas, and all witches were desired to attend and join in the revelry, at the command of his imperious majesty, Satan himself; and, no sooner had Jacob departed, than old Janet began to anoint herself, singing her incantations all the while.
“To thee, to thee, thou mighty one!Whose name is big with fear,I pay my adoration deep,While I anoint me here;And in this ointment I have putMixtures of mighty power,To aid my flight, through the night,To thee, at trysting hour.The Lady Gordon’s fav’rite childI’ve roasted for this night,And thus its fat upon my lidsI drop to aid my sight.Come dance around, my fav’rite imps,Robin and Prick-ear come!Twice must the ocean wide be crossedEre we again come home.With serpents’ oil I smear my cheeks,To smooth my wrinkled skin,And outward wear the show of youth,Though all is old within.With blood of matricide I dyeMy lips to ruby red,And with the deep black soot of hellThe white locks of my head;With tints from murdered virgin’s faceI gaily deck my own,Till either cheek appears to wearA rose flower newly blown;Come dance around, my favourite imps,Robin and Prick-ear come,Twice must the ocean wide be crossed,Ere we again come home.”
“To thee, to thee, thou mighty one!Whose name is big with fear,I pay my adoration deep,While I anoint me here;
And in this ointment I have putMixtures of mighty power,To aid my flight, through the night,To thee, at trysting hour.
The Lady Gordon’s fav’rite childI’ve roasted for this night,And thus its fat upon my lidsI drop to aid my sight.
Come dance around, my fav’rite imps,Robin and Prick-ear come!Twice must the ocean wide be crossedEre we again come home.
With serpents’ oil I smear my cheeks,To smooth my wrinkled skin,And outward wear the show of youth,Though all is old within.
With blood of matricide I dyeMy lips to ruby red,And with the deep black soot of hellThe white locks of my head;
With tints from murdered virgin’s faceI gaily deck my own,Till either cheek appears to wearA rose flower newly blown;
Come dance around, my favourite imps,Robin and Prick-ear come,Twice must the ocean wide be crossed,Ere we again come home.”
Her preparations being completed, she mounted upon the back of Robin, and attended by Prick-ear, flew through the air to the witches’ festival.
The inhabitants of Mauritania, who resided in the vicinity of Mount Atlas, were struck with fear and wonder at the flickering lights and fitful sounds of numerous instruments that were seen and heard upon the mountain’s sides. Loud peals of laughter and shouts of merriment astonished the peasantry, for many miles around! Glad enough was the arch-fiend to see old Janet, who was a favourite, and he knew she had done his service ably. She knelt down, and did him homage, repeated the accursed prayer, and recounted to him the deeds she had performed since the last merry meeting,—at which he smiled, and gave her a smack that sounded like the report of a piece of ordnance; and back to back, with arms locked together, did they whisk it about, to the great delight of the assembly; after which, Prick-ear, who had assumed his human shape, led her to the feast, and whisperedsoft words into his mistress’s ear; and they kissed and toyed, as did the rest; and in mirth, love, and jollity, the night passed rapidly away. But Janet forgot not in her mirth, to beg a boon of Satan, which was, that he would turn the inclinations of Mary Carrol upon the trooper, Jacob Strong-ith-arm, which being granted, the usual ceremony at parting was performed, and again crossing the ocean, she arrived at Cwm Bychan before the dawn, with her attendant imps.
With a fluttering heart, Jacob knocked at the door of his mistress, on the morning after his adventure with old Janet, and could scarcely believe his good fortune, when he saw Mary, with smiles of delight, hasten to the door, to welcome him; and he inwardly blessed the old witch for having performed her promise so faithfully. He spoke of love to Mary, and she heard him without a frown; and so impatient was the accepted lover, that the third day was appointed for the marriage to take place. But Jacob thought no more of the witch who had brought about his good fortune.
The third morning came, and the bells were ringing merrily the wedding peal for Mary Carrol and Jacob Strongith-arm, and all their friends were seated at breakfast in the bride’s cottage,when, as the clock struck nine, three distinct and heavy knocks were heard at the door, which being opened, old Janet presented herself before the astonished party, for they all believed she had evil communication with Satan.
The bridegroom grew red with shame and passion, and when Janet told him she had come for the payment he promised, he vowed, if she did not quit the house, he would tie her neck and heels, and fling her out of the window. This threat made Janet wrathful, and with heavy maledictions that struck terror into the hearts of all the company, she turned her back upon them, and departed from the house.
No sooner had she quitted it, than a new wonder arose—the bride flew hastily to her apartment, nor could all her friends prevail upon her to quit it. Her former dislike to Jacob returned with redoubled violence. She refused to become his bride, and kneeling down returned thanks to heaven for the fate she had escaped. All was confusion. The disappointed bridegroom with dreadful threats of vengeance, dashed furiously out of the house, in the direction of Cwm Bychan.
Rage subdued fear in his breast, and the pathless rocks, over which he had to scramble, seemed to add fresh fuel to his flames. Longand loudly did he knock at the door of Janet’s hut, until maddened with delay, he with his foot sent it flying from its hinges, and there he saw a figure resembling himself modelled in wax, with a needle passed through the body, placed before a fire—and on a sudden Jacob began to sweat with fear. All the horrors attached to this well known ceremony amongst witches, rushed to memory. He remembered the story of King Duncan of Scotland, which he had often read over, with pious terror, in the pages of Hollingshed, who was in this way tortured by a witch, and, with prayers and ejaculations, he ran from his effigy, stumbling and breaking his knees over the rugged stones, while thorns and briars tore his quivering flesh, as, unconscious of the pain, he scrambled through. At length, in horrid plight, breathless and faint, he reached his quarters in the town of Harlech, where he was shortly after put to bed in extreme agony, both of body and mind.
“Weary seven nights, nine times nine,Did he dwindle, peak, and pine.”
“Weary seven nights, nine times nine,Did he dwindle, peak, and pine.”