Part 6

With reluctance we left this romantic situation; and, according to the directions of our conductress, soon found ourselves in the turnpike road to Tan-y-bwlch, understanding that Mr. Warner’s route to Pen-street afforded indifferent walking. Stupendous mountains attended us some way; and, to borrow a description from a celebrated author, they “looked like the rude materials of creation, forming the barrier of unwrought space.” The sun was now making a “golden set;” the mountains were thrown together in noble masses, appearing to scale the heavens, to intercept its rays, and emulous to receive the parting tinge of lingering day. We were watching with admiration the mild splendour of its light, fading from the distant landscape, when we perceived the rich vale of Festiniog suddenly open itself to our view: we observed the busy group of haymakers, who had completed their day’s labour, returning to their homes:

“While heard from dale to dale, Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice Of happy labour, love and social glee.”

Pleased with this rustic scene, we caught the cheerful song, which was wafted on the gentle breeze. With pleasure we anticipated a saunter through this vale, early the ensuing morning; for one tint of sober gray had now covered its various coloured features, and the sun had now gleamed its last light upon the rivulet which winds through the bottom.

TAN-Y-BWLCH.

The “rich-hair’d youth of morn” had not long left its saffron bed, and the very air was balmy as it freshened into morn, when we hurried from our Inn to enjoy the luxuries of the Vale of Festiniog, so well celebrated by the pen of Lord Littleton. “With the woman one loves, with the friend of one’s heart, (says his Lordship) and a good study of books, one may pass an age there, and think it a day. If one has a mind to live long, and renew his youth, let him come and settle at Festiniog.” These are the sentiments of Lord Littleton, in which seemed to be verified the situation of Mr. Oakley, who has selected this spot for his residence. Tan-y-bwlch Hall, (for by that name is Mr. Oakley’s Seat dignified) is environed by a thick wood, which climbs the steep mountains behind his mansion. We followed the meandering and translucent waters of the river Dryryd, till we arrived at the Village of Maentwrog, situated about the middle of this Paradise. Passing through the village, we observed a small but neat cottage, which was rendered interesting to the way-farer by its neat simplicity. Perceiving a stand of fruit at the door, we were enticed to enter the cottage, where we found the interior of the house as comfortable, as the situation was interesting. A large old-fashioned chimney corner, with benches to receive a social party, formed a most enviable retreat from the rude storms of winter, and defied alike the weather and the world:—with what pleasure did I picture,

“A smiling circle, emulous to please,”

gathering round a blazing pile of wood on the hearth, free from all the vicissitudes and cares of the world, happy in their own home, blessed in the sweet affections of kindred amity, regardless of the winter blast that struggled against the window, and the snow that pelted against the roof. On our entering, the wife who possessed “the home of happiness, an honest breast,” invited us “to take a seat” under the window, which overlooking the village, and the dark tower of the church, offered the delights of other seasons. The sweets of a little garden, joined its fragrance to the honeysuckle, which enwreathed with rich drapery the windows; and here too lay the old family Bible, which had been put aside on our first entrance; we regretted, not having an opportunity of seeing the husband, whom, I make no doubt

“Envied not, and never thought of kings, Nor from those appetites sustain’d annoy, That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy; Each season look’d delightful as it past, To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.”

Our intended route for this day being very short, we did not leave Tan-y-bwlch till after breakfast, and even then lingered through the valley, to take one last adieu of this paradisiacal spot; the Dryryd serpentizing through the meadows, and the lively green of the swelling declivities on each side, beautifully contrasted with the ripening corn. From the vast quantity of ore we discovered, I am inclined to believe, that any spirited speculator would find it amply repay him for the expences and labour attending his speculations. The vale of Festiniog, not exceeding three miles long, and one in breadth, is a very rich tract of land.

An extremely rough, rocky, and unpleasant road, with nothing to engage our attention; and the country uncultivated, and diverted of every thing that gives, even the shadow of civilization, brought us to the far-famed Pont Aber-glaslyn, or, _The Bridge of the Harbour of the Blue Lake_; and not uncommonly styled, the _Devil’s Bridge_. This last appellation has very frequently misled strangers, who, confounding it with the well-known bridge at Havod, have been much disappointed, their expectations being raised very high, from the general descriptions of that place. Of this, indeed, we found an instance on the very spot. This bridge connects the two counties of Merionethshire and Caernarvonshire; being, from the parapet to the water, forty feet. From the description of former tourists, it did not answer our expectations; but the salmon-leap is an interesting object from the bridge: the height is about fifteen feet; and though we observed very many attempt this surprising feat of agility, not one succeeded. Some fishermen below soon excited our curiosity, and salmon was here offered for sale at three-pence per pound.

An intelligent man here offered himself as our guide to the rich Copper-mines, in the vicinity of Pont Aber-Glaslyn. This miner, having worked both here and at the Paris mountain, confidently asserted, that one pound of this ore was now esteemed equivalent to twice the quantity, produced in Anglesea. Stupendous cliffs, by the road side, literally rise eight hundred and sixty feet perpendicularly, and hang in the most capricious forms over the torrent, which, straggling amongst the recesses of stone, is hastening forward to disembogue itself into the estuary of Traeth Mawr. The pass is not more than seventy feet; after much rain it is entirely inundated by the overflowings of the Glaslyn, which reflected, as in a mirror, the blackness of the impending cliffs. On the Caernarvonshire side are several lead mines; but they have not proved sufficiently rich, to reward the labour of working.

The situation of our Inn at

BEDDGELERT,

is very romantic, and would form an interesting drawing, by taking in a small bridge of two arches below the house. It is completely encircled by lofty mountains, which may be considered as subject to the “cloud-capt Snowdon.”

How often has the idea of this stupendous mountain filled my heart with enthusiastic rapture! Every time I cast my eyes on that solemn, that majestic vision, it is not without the most powerful emotion; it excites that tender melancholy, which exalts, rather than depresses the mind! How delightful, to bid adieu to all the cares and occupations of the world, for the reflection of those scenes of sublimity and grandeur, which forms such contrast to the transientness of sublunary greatness! With what anxiety have we watched the setting sun, loitering just below the horizon, and illuminating the highest summit of Snowdon with a golden tinge, and we still watch the passing clouds of night, fearing lest the morning should prove unfavourable for our Alpine excursion.

SNOWDON.

We engaged the Miner, as our Conductor over the mountain, who entertained us much with displaying, in strong colours, the tricks and impositions of his brother guides, and more particularly of the methodistical Landlord of our Inn, who is generally employed on these occasions. His pride too is not a little elevated, by having conducted _The Great Doctor_ to its highest summit; this seemingly ridiculous phrase for some time puzzled us; but we have since found out, that our guide was talking of no less a man, than the present respectable and learned Dean of Christchurch, who ascended this mountain last year. Though our guide {105} was pompous, and rather too partial to the marvellous, yet I strenuously recommend him to all tourists.

At half past twelve, we started from our Inn, determined to see the sun rise from its highest summit. The night was now very dark, and we could just discover, that the top of Snowdon was entirely enveloped in a thick, impenetrable mist: this unpropitious omen staggered our resolutions; and we for some time hesitated respecting our farther progress; but our guide assuring us, that his _comfortable_ cottage was not far distant, we again plucked up resolution; and quitting the highway about two miles on the Caernarvon road, we turned to the right, through a boggy unpleasant land, and in danger of losing our shoes every step we took. This soon brought us to the _comfortable cot_, the filth and dirtiness of which can better be imagined than described; a worm-eaten bed, two small stools, and a table fixed to the wall, composed the whole of his furniture,—two fighting cocks were perched on a beam, which Thomas seemed to pride himself in the possession of; the smoke of the fire ascended through a small hole in the roof of this _comfortable mansion_, the door of which did not appear proof against the “churlish chiding of the winter blast.”

Such, indeed, was the situation of this Cambrian mountaineer; and though, in our own opinion, misery, poverty, and dirt personified, seemed to be the real inhabitants of this cottage, yet there was something prepossessing in his character; for frequently, with the greatest vehemence imaginable, and in the true stile of an anchorite, he declared, that “though he boasted not riches, yet he boasted of independence; and though he possessed not wealth, yet he possessed the home of happiness, an honest breast.”

The morning appearing to wear a more favourable aspect, we again sallied forth; the bogs, however, still rendered it extremely unpleasant. But this inconvenience was only temporary: we soon came to a part of the mountain, entirely composed of loose stones, and fragments of rock, which, by affording a very treacherous footing, you are liable to perpetual falls. The mountain now became much steeper, the path less rocky, and our mountaineer, the higher we proceeded, more induced to exhibit feats of his agility, by occasionally running down a short precipice, and then, by a loud shout or vociferation, shewing us the obedience of the sheep, who instantaneously flocked round him, at the sound of his voice: it is singular, the caution implanted in this animal, by instinct, for the mutual protection of each other; from the liberty they enjoy, they seldom congregate in one flock, but are generally discovered grazing in parties from six to a dozen, one of which is regularly appointed centinel, to watch the motions of their inveterate enemies (foxes and birds of prey), which infest this mountain. A wider expanse of the hemisphere disclosed itself, and every object below us gradually diminished, as we ascended. The freshness of the mountain _whetted_ our appetites; and our conductor, with very little persuasion, soon influenced us to open our little basket of provisions. The sun, the “rich-hair’d youth of morn,” was just peeping from its bed; and having refreshed ourselves, with eager impatience we again climbed the rugged precipice, for we had still a considerable height to ascend. We now descended several steep declivities, by a narrow path, not more than three yards wide, with a dreadful perpendicular on each side, the sight of which almost turned us giddy. As we were passing this hazardous path, a thick mist enveloped us, and an impenetrable abyss appeared on both sides; the effect, indeed, can scarcely be conceived; our footing to us, puisne mountaineers, seemed very insecure; and a total destruction would have been the consequence of one false step. The air grew intensely cold, and by our guide’s recommendation, we a second time produced our pistol of rum, diluted with milk; but this cordial must be used with caution, as a very small quantity of strong liquor affects the head, owing to the rarification of the air. On our reaching the summit, all our difficulties were forgotten, and our imaginary complaints overborne with exclamations of wonder, surprise, and admiration. The light thin misty cloud, which had for some time enveloped us, as if by enchantment, suddenly dispersed; the whole ocean appeared illuminated by a fiery substance, and all the subject hills below us, for they resembled _mole-hills_, were gradually tinged by the rich glow of the sun; whose orb, becoming at length distinctly visible, displayed the whole island of Anglesea so distinctly, that we descried, as in map, its flat and uncultivated plains, bounded by the rich and inexhaustible Paris Mountains, in the vicinity of Holyhead. The point on which we were standing, did not exceed a square of five yards, and we sickened almost at the sight of the steep precipices which environed us; round it is a small parapet, formed by the customary tribute of all strangers, who visit this summit, and to which we likewise contributed, by placing a large stone on its top: this parapet, indeed, sheltered us from the chilly cold, and protected us from the piercing wind, which this height must naturally be exposed to.

We remained in this situation for a considerable time, and endeavoured, without success, to enumerate the several lakes, forest, woods, and counties, which were exposed to us in one view; but, lost and confounded with the innumerable objects worthy of admiration, and regardless of the chilling cold, we took a distinct survey of the Isle of Man, together with a faint prospect of the highlands in Ireland, which appeared just visibly skirting the distant horizon; but another object soon engrossed all our attention;

“The wide, the unbounded prospects lay before us; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it:”

For we unexpectedly observed long billows of vapour tossing about, half way down the mountain, totally excluding the country below, and occasionally dispersing, and partially revealing, its features, while above, the azure expanse of the heavens remained un-obscured by the thinnest mist. This, however, was of no long continuance: a thick cloud presently wet us through; and the point on which we were standing could alone be distinguished. As there appeared little or no chance of the clouds dispersing, we soon commenced our descent.—Respecting this Alpine excursion, suffice it to say, that though our expectations were raised exceedingly high, it infinitely surpassed all conception, and baffled all description; for no colour of language can paint the grandeur of the rising sun, observed from this eminence, or describe the lakes, woods, and forests, which are extended before you; for description, though it enumerates their names, yet it cannot draw the elegance of outline, cannot give the effect of precipices, or delineate the minute features, which reward the actual observer, at every new choice of his position, and by changing their colour and form in his gradual ascent, till at last every object dwindles into atoms: in short, this interesting excursion, which comprehends every thing that is awful, grand, and sublime, producing the most pleasing sensations, has left traces in the memory, which the imagination will ever hold dear.

Various have been the conjectures on the definition of this mountain; some authors affirm, that the Welch name of Snowdon signifies the _Eagle’s Rocks_, deducing it from the number of those birds that formerly haunted these rocks; but the most simple conjecture seems to be, that this name alludes to the frequency of the snow on the highest peaks. This mountainous tract was formerly celebrated for its fertility and woods; and Leland affirms, that all Crigereri was forest. It now yields no corn; and its produce consists in cattle and black sheep, with large flocks of goats. “Its height (says Pennant) has been variously reported. Mr. Caswell, who was employed by Mr. Adams, in a survey of Wales, 1682, measured it by instruments, made by the direction of Mr. Flamstead, and asserts it to have been one thousand two hundred and forty. Mr. Lluyd says, its perpendicular height is about one thousand three hundred yards above the sea level; but later experiments have ascertained it at one thousand one hundred and eighty-nine yards, reckoning from the quay at Caernarvon, to the highest peak.” The ascent is computed three miles; the extremity, or summit, three quarters of a mile perpendicular. By the inhabitants of the country it is called Moel-y-Wydva, _i.e._ _The Conspicuous Hill_; and sometimes Krag Ey reri; and in the old English maps it is always spelt _Snawdon_. The lakes in this tract amount to a considerable number, and abound with trout, eels, gwyniadd, and some of them well-stored with char. The most noted peaks of this mountain are distinguished by the names Moel-y-Wydva, y-Glyder, Karmedh Dhavidh, and Karmedh Llewelyn.—These hills are, in a manner, heaped on one another, near the summit; and we only climbed one rock, to see three or four more; between each is a _cwm_, or valley, generally with a lake. We made particular enquiries concerning y-Glyder-Bach, and found that the description of it is by no means exaggerated. Several columnar stones, of enormous size, formed into the most fantastical shapes, and lying in several directions, with many of their tops crowned with stones, placed horizontally on them. One we observed rocked with the slightest touch. In the fissures of the rock, _cubic pyritæ_, are not uncommonly found; the _saxifraga nivalis_, and the species called by Linnæus _æthereal_, in great abundance.

The first two miles of our descent, we by no means found difficult, but wishing to take a minute survey of the picturesque pass of Llanberris, we changed the route generally prescribed to strangers, and descended a rugged and almost perpendicular path, in opposition to the proposals of our guide, who strenuously endeavoured to dissuade us from the attempt, alleging the difficulty of the steep, and relating a melancholy story of a gentleman, who many years back had broken his leg. This had no effect. We determined to proceed; and the vale of Llanberris amply rewarded us for the trouble. It is bounded by the steep precipices of Snowdon, and two large lakes, communicating by a river. It was formerly a large forest, but the woods are now entirely cut down. We here dismissed our Cambrian mountaineer, and easily found our way to Dolbadern (pronounced _Dolbathern_) Castle, situated between the two lakes, and now reduced to one circular tower, thirty feet in diameter, with the foundations of the exterior buildings completely in ruins; in this, Owen Gough, brother to Llewellin, last prince, was confined in prison. From hence a rugged horse-path brought us to the Caernarvon turnpike-road, about six miles distant; the high towers of the castle, the very crown and paragon of the landscape, at last pointed out the situation of

CAERNARVON;

and having crossed a handsome modern stone-bridge, thrown over the river Rhydol, and built by “Harry Parry, the modern Inigo, _Anno Domini_ 1791,” we soon entered this ancient town, very much fatigued with our long excursion. The Hotel, newly built by Lord Uxbridge, for the convenience of strangers, at the end of the town, commands a fine prospect of the Strait of Menai. The view was bounded by the flat Isle of Anglesea; while the light vessels, skimming before the wind, gave the whole a lively and pleasing variety.

The city of Caernarvon, beautifully situated, and regularly built, is in the form of a square, enclosed on three sides, with thick stone walls; and on the south side, defended by the castle;—the old town-hall is now falling to ruin.

With respect to the castle, we by no means agree with Mr. Warner, that “its high antiquity and ancient splendour is interrupted and destroyed by the patch-work of modern separation, and the littleness of a cottager’s domestic œconomy seen within its walls;” as it is only repaired, where necessity required it, to prop up its crumbling ruins; neither could we discover any cottage within its walls. The towers are extremely elegant; but not being entwined with ivy, do not wear that picturesque appearance, which castles generally possess. Over the principal entrance, which leads into an oblong court, is seated, beneath a great tower, the statue of the founder, holding in his left hand a dagger: this gate-way was originally fortified with four portcullises. At the west end, the eagle tower, remarkably light and beautiful, in a polygon form; three small hexagon turrets rising from the middle, with eagles placed on their battlements; from thence it derives its name. In a little dark room {114} in this tower, measuring eleven feet by seven, was born Edward the Second, April 25, 1204. The thickness of the wall is about ten feet. To the top of the tower we reckoned one hundred and fifty-eight steps, from whence an extensive view of the adjacent country is seen to great advantage. On the south are three octagonal towers with small turrets, with similar ones on the north. All these towers communicate with each other by a gallery, both on the ground, middle, and upper floor, formed within the immense thickness of the walls, in which are cut narrow slips, at convenient distances, for the discharge of arrows.

This building, founded on a rock, is the work of Edward I. the conqueror of the principality; the form of it is a long irregular square, enclosing an area of about two acres and a half. From the information of the Sebright manuscript, Mr. Pennant says, that by the united efforts of the peasants, it was erected within the space of one year.

Having spent near three hours surveying one of the noblest castles in Wales, we walked round the environs of the town: the terrace round the castle walls is exceedingly pleasing, being in front of the Menai, which is here upwards of a mile in breadth, forming a safe harbour for craft of five or six tons, and generally crowded with vessels, exhibiting a picture of national industry; whilst near it a commodious quay presents an ever-bustling scene, from whence a considerable quantity of slate, and likewise copper from the Llanberris mine, is shipped for different parts of the kingdom.

Caernarvon may certainly be considered as one of the handsomest and largest towns in North-Wales; and under the patronage of Lord Uxbridge promises to become still more populous and extensive: his Lordship, we were given to understand by our landlord, intends to erect sea-baths; and by this well-planned improvement, induce company to resort here during the summer months.

Several excursions may be made from Caernarvon with great satisfaction to the Tourist; the principal of which is a visit to

PLAS-NEWYDD,