Transcribed from the 1838 Henry Colburn edition by David Price. Many
thanks to Mold Library for allowing their copy to be consulted.
[Picture: Caernarvonshire, from Anglesea]
THE
PEDESTRIAN’S GUIDE
THROUGH
NORTH WALES.
A TOUR
PERFORMED IN 1837.
BY
G. J. BENNETT, ESQ.
WITH TWENTY ETCHINGS,
BY A. CLINT.
* * * * *
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN PUBLISHER,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1838.
* * * * *
LONDON:
SCHULZE AND CO., 13, POLAND STREET.
ILLUSTRATIONS, &c.
Page
1 Caernarvonshire, from Anglesea. Title
2 Chirk Castle. 68
3 Llangollen. 93
4 Font in the grounds of Plas Newydd. 99
5 Castle Dinas, Bran. 108
6 Valle Crucis Abbey. 121
7 Pillar of Eliseg. 128
8 Bala Lake. 155
9 Cader Idris, from the Bala Road. 171
10 Parliament House of Owen Glyndwr. 174
11 View from Carreg y Saeth. 209
12 Harlech Castle. 215
13 The Vale of Maentwrog. 219
14 The Raven Fall, near Maentwrog. 231
15 Pont Aber Glaslyn. 237
16 Snowdon, from the Pass of Llyn Gwynant. 251
17 Pass of Llanberis. 254
18 The Coffin of Leolinus Magnus. 319
19 Conway Castle. 325
20 Aber. 362
WELSH MELODIES, ETC.
21 Guide for the Pedestrian. 11
22 The Fairy’s Serenade. 109
23 Battle Song. 131
24 Jenny Davies. 143
25 Mountain Mary. 176
26 Dafydd ap Shenkin. 305
27 Farewell to North Wales. 384
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Page
Preliminary observations—Preparations for a tour—Coach 11
conversation—A breakfast and an American traveller—Route to
Birmingham—A dinner—Road to Wolverhampton—Eccentric
passengers—Lord Hill’s monument—Shrewsbury.
CHAPTER II.
Walk to Montford Bridge—The Severn—An agreeable 30
companion—Delights of a Tourist—Histrionic
Ambition—Wittington—The Castle—The Church—Curious Epitaphs.
CHAPTER III.
Chirk—The Aqueduct—The Deserted, a legend—Description of 57
Chirk Castle—Sketch—The Park—Legend of the enchanted
Stag—The Vale of Llangollen—Account of the Aqueduct called
Pont-y-Cysylltau—Stanzas for music—Llangollen—The Hand in
Hand—A view of the village.
CHAPTER IV.
Waking prospect—Plas Newydd and the grounds—Lines written 96
at the font—Castle Dinas, Bran—Legend of Mick Mallow—View
of the Castle—Legend of the Minstrel Fay—Original
Air—Festival.
CHAPTER V.
Valle Crucis—The Abbey—Lines written in the ruins—A 121
loquacious porteress—A view of the Abbey—The pillar of
Eliseg—A parting—Road to Corwen—Vale of the Dee—The musical
pedestrian—War song—Over the hills and far away—An
adventure—Corwen—The Church—College—Cross and Circle—Air
Llwyn-own—Route to Llandrillo—An old soldier and his
son—Village of Llandrillo—A fair—Vale of Edeyrnion—Arrival
at Bala.
CHAPTER VI.
Bala—The Lake—A Meeting of Magistrates—The 154
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.
CHAPTER VII.
Description of Barmouth—Sketch of the Town—The 183
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
CHAPTER VIII.
Harlech—The Inn—The Castle—Anecdote of Dafydd ap Ivan ap 213
Einion—Road to Maentwrog—View—A persevering Cobbler—The
Oakley Arms—Pleasures of Fly fishing—New Companions—Angling
Stations—An Adventure—Road to Tremadoc—Tan y Bwlch—Port
Madoc Breakwater and Mountain Scenery
described—Tremadoc—Tan yr Allt—Pont Aber Glas Llyn—Lines
written at the Bridge—Beddgelert—The Inn—Story of a
Pointer.
CHAPTER IX.
Departure from Beddgelert—Vortigern’s Hill—Snowdon—Llynn 246
Gwynant—Lines written upon Llynn Gwynant—Gwrydd—Public
House—Lake Fishing—A Night Adventure—Pass of
Llanberis—Legend of the Giant’s Night-Cap—The Lakes—The
Castle of Dolbadarn and Legend—View of Llanberis.
CHAPTER X.
The church of Llanberis—Monumental inscriptions—Story of 280
little John Closs—The Pellings—Capel Curig—Moel
Siabod—Castle of Dolwyddélan—Falls of Benclog—Llyn
Ogwen—Llyn Idwal—Story of Idwal—Route to Llanrwst—Falls of
Rhaiadr y Wennol—Bettws y Coed—The church—Monuments—Pont y
Pair—Ogo ap Shenkin, a Legend—Glee, “Shenkin was a noble
fellow!”
CHAPTER XI.
A Mistake—Road to Llanrwst—Gwydir Castle—Llanrwst Shaking 306
Bridge—Inn—The Theatre—Town Hall—Free Schools—Alms
Houses—Rhaiadr y Parc Mawr—Llyn
Gierionydd—Taliesin—Trefriw—Slate Quarries—Conway—The
Suspension Bridge—The Castle—Local Customs—A
Phrenologist—Excursion to the Ormes’ Head—The Smuggler—The
Bump of _Order_.
CHAPTER XII.
Route to Aber—Penmaen Mawr—The pet Goat—Aber—Legend of 352
Llywelyn and the Captive Knight—Road from Aber to
Bangor—Penrhyn Castle—Bangor—Inns—The Cathedral—The
Castle—Free Schools—The Menai Bridge—Song, Farewell to
North Wales, air, Ar Hyd y Nos—Conclusion
Appendix 375
PREFACE.
THE Author’s object in offering to the Public the following pages is,
that all who have a desire to examine the beauties of Welsh scenery may
also have an opportunity of seeing the most _interesting_ portion of it
in a tour which will not occupy more than a month. The route described
in this volume presents a variety of pictures which can scarcely be
equalled, and certainly not surpassed, in any quarter of the globe. It
is true there are hills higher far than any in Snowdonia, and valleys
more extensive; but, while we are astonished at a description of the
enormous magnitude of the Asiatic and American mountains, and the noble
rivers, and sea-like lakes of the latter, let us take into our
consideration which is the most desirable country to explore; that in
which nature’s prodigies are so extensive that we can neither ascend the
eminences, ford the rivers, nor view the opposite shores of the extensive
lakes; or _that_ where mountains may be scaled with ease, from the
summits of which, a series of glorious panoramas burst upon the
eye,—wherein the valleys, glens and wild ravines present an endless
variety of sublimity and beauty, and the loud torrent and the waterfall
pour forth their melody of never tiring sweetness, to delight the ear?
Seas must be crossed, and miles of dreary and uninteresting country
traversed, in wandering from one grand object to another in the _former_;
while, in the route here represented to the Public,—within the reach of
all—repose and admiration charm the heart by turns, in the rich fertile
valleys, lofty and wood-clad hills, or heather-mantled mountains, of
North Wales. The traveller is likewise insured the comfort of a good
inn, where he may rest his wearied limbs, after a day’s ramble in
whatever part of the district he chooses to select for his excursion; and
the healthy and active should decidedly make _use_ of their _limbs_, to
bear them through this tour, in preference to the more easy and luxurious
vehicle, and even to the equestrian mode of conveyance. A good
horsewoman may venture into the dark defiles, or climb the craggy heights
upon the ponys, which are always in readiness at the inns for that
purpose; but between a man and his steed there will most assuredly be a
strong feeling of sympathy created by a conviction, that the one is a
most unnecessary burthen to the other.
For the etchings which illustrate this little work, the Author is
indebted to his friend Mr. Alfred Clint, who accompanied him in his
second tour, and whose judicious selection of subjects has given a value
to the volume, which, without his aid, would have been deficient in its
principal ornaments. There is no composition in any of the
illustrations; they are the scenes of nature reflected in the mirror of
art. Not a mountain or valley, grey ruin or waterfall, but is
represented as it really _is_; and for the best reason in the world, viz.
that any attempt to improve upon the subjects, would destroy their real
beauty.
The peasantry are simple, honest, and obliging; and, as they trudge
along, a spirit of freedom sparkles in their eyes, and seems to animate
every action of their unfettered limbs. Though their fare is humble,
they enjoy it with an appetite to which the bracing air of their hills,
and their happy ignorance of luxuries, give an enviable zest.
Drunkenness is a vice almost unknown among these primitive mountaineers:
milk is their common beverage, oatmeal cakes, and potatoes, with a
plentiful supply of trout from their native streams, form their chief
summer food; while, in winter, dry salted beef and mutton serve to
satisfy their utmost wishes.
“Though poor the peasant’s hut, his feasts tho’ small,
He sees his little lot the lot of all.
* * * * *
Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms.
And, as a child, when scaring sounds molest,
Clings close and closer to the mother’s breast,
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind’s roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.”
DIRECTIONS
TO THOSE UNACQUAINTED WITH THE WELSH LANGUAGE.
A knowledge of the Welsh alphabet is indispensable to those who are
desirous of correctly pronouncing the necessary questions and answers
that transpire upon the road. The names of places must effectually
puzzle any tourist, who is not acquainted with the peculiar sound of each
letter, particularly where there are many consonants in a word. In order
therefore to aid the traveller in Wales, I have selected the following
rules.
In the Welsh alphabet there are no mutes; and all letters that are
circumflex must be pronounced long, as
Bôn like the English Bone.
Bin, as Been.
C, as Can, but never soft as in City.
Ch, is pronounced as the Greek χ.
Dd, as the English Th in theme.
F, as V in English.
Ff, as F and double F in English.
G, as G in good, but never soft as in genial.
I, as I in king but never as in fire.
Ll, as L aspirated.
Th, as in thought.
U, as I in the English words bliss, kiss &c.
W, as double O in good, wood.
Y, as U in burn, but in the last syllable of a word; and in all
monosyllables except Y, Ydd, Ym, Yn, Yr, Ys, Fy, Dy, Myn, it is like I in
Sin.
* * * * *
By attending to these rules, the stranger will easily make himself
understood by the peasantry, and on his tours, in enquiring for any place
to which he may be journeying.
GLOSSARY.
Ap, or Ab, is prefixed to proper names, and signifies, the son of.
Aber, the fall of one water into another, a confluence.
Am, about, around.
Ar, upon, or bordering upon.
Avon, or Afon, a river.
Ban, high, lofty, tall.
Bach, little, small.
Bedd, a grave, a sepulchre.
Bettws, a station between hill and vale.
Blaen, a point or end.
Bôd, a residence.
Braich, a branch.
Bron, the breast or slope of a hill.
Bryn, a hill, a mount.
Bychan, little.
Bylch, a gap or pass.
Cader, a chair.
Caer, a city.
Capel, a chapel.
Carn, a heap.
Carnedd, a heap of stones.
Careg, a stone.
Castell, a castle, fortress.
Cil, (pronounced keel) a retreat, a recess.
Clawdd, a hedge, a dyke.
Clogwyn, a precipice.
Coed, a wood.
Cors, a bog, a fen.
Craig, a rock or craig.
Croes, a cross.
Cym, a valley or glen.
Dinas, a fort, a city, or a fortified place.
Dol, a meadow or dale in the bend of the river.
Drws, a doorway, a pass.
Dû, black.
Dwfr or Dwr, water.
Dyffryn, a valley.
Eglwys, a church.
Ffordd, away, a road a passage.
Ffynnon, a well, a spring.
Garth, a hill bending round.
Glàn, a brink or shore.
Glâs, bluish or greyish green.
Glyn, a glen or valley through which a river runs.
Gwern, a watery meadow.
Gwydd, a wood.
Gwyn, white, fair.
Llan, a church, a smooth area, an inclosure.
Llwyn, a grove.
Maen, a stone.
Mawr, great.
Moel, a smooth conical hill.
Mynydd, a mountain.
Nant, a ravine, a brook.
Newydd, new, fresh.
Pant, a hollow or valley.
Pistyll, a spout, a cataract.
Plas, a hall or palace.
Plwyf, a parish.
Pont, a bridge.
Porth, a ferry, a port, a gateway.
Pwll, a pit or pool.
Rhaiadr, a cataract.
Rhiw, an ascent.
Ryhd, a ford.
Sarn, a causeway, a pavement.
Tal, the front or head, also tall.
Traeth, a sand or shore.
Tre or Tref, a home, a town.
Twr, a tower.
Ty, a house.
Y, the, of.
Yn, in, at, into.
Ynys, an island.
Ystrad, a vale, a dale.
Yspytty, a hospital, an almshouse.
* * * * *
By referring to this short Glossary, the tourist will find no difficulty
in understanding the meanings of the different names given to the
different places through which he will have to pass.
INTERJECTIONS.
As there are many interjectional adverbs made use of in the following
pages, a glossary of them might prove useful.
Aro! stop!
Dacw! yonder!
Dyna, dyna! there, there.
Dyt, dyt! hold, hold!
Fwrz! away!
Gwae, woe.
Hai how! heigho!
Hwnt! avaunt!
O dyn! oh dear!
Oia! oh pray!
Oio! hear me!
Truan bac! poor little thing!
Truan hyny! poor thing, that it was!
Twt! pshaw!
Wela, wela! well, well!
Ysywaeth! the more the pity!
GUIDE FOR THE PEDESTRIAN.
ROUTE. COUNTIES. MILES. PRINCIPAL INNS. OBJECTS OF ANGLING
INTEREST. STATIONS.
From LONDON to Salop 154 The The House of The Severn.
SHREWSBURY, Talbot—Raven— Industry—
Lion, and the Military
Fox. Depôt—Lord
Hill’s
Column—Quarry
Walk—and the
Castle.
thence to WITTINGTON Do. 16 The Castle, and The Severn.
the Church.
CHIRK Denbighshire 6 The Hand. The Castle—The The Ceiriog.
Aqueduct and
Vale.
LLANGOLLEN Do. 7 The Hand—King’s Bran—Church—Plas The Dee—to
Head, and Royal Newydd—Pont Corwen or
Oak. Cysylltan. Overton.
CORWEN Merionethshire 10 The Owen The Between Corwen
Glyndwr. Church—Cross— and Llan St.
Glyndwys Ffraid bridge.
Seat—Vale of
Edeyrnion.
BALA Do. 12 White Lion & The Lake—Aran Bala lake and
Bull’s Head. Fowddwy—Arrenig pool, halfway up
Vawr—Arrenig the Arrenig
Vach. Vach—R. Dee.
DOLGELLEY Do. 18 Golden Nannau Lanvachreth 3½
Lion—Angel, & Park—Kymmer miles—Dol-y-
Ship. Abbey—County gammed, on the
gaol—Parliament Avon, 4
House of Owen miles—Llyn
Glyndwr—The Cregnan, S.W. 4
Falls of Rhaiadr miles—Llyn
Mawddach—Rhaiadr Gader, 1½ m—Llyn
Du, and Griew, 5
Pistyll-y-Cain. m—Tal-y-llyn, on
Cader Idris, 6
m.
BARMOUTH Do. 10 Commercial Inn, Old Town—Sarn Llyn Raithlyn,
and Cors-y-gedol Badric—Cors-y- near
Arms. gedol. Trawsfynydd—
Arthog Chapel, 3
m. distant—Llyn
Bodlyn, 4 M.
from
Barmouth—Llyn
Teddin and Llyn
Gierw, near the
town.
HARLECH Do. 10 The Blue Lion. The Castle—Cwm Llanvihangel, on
Bychan—The Dwyryd, 5
Cromlech, 2 m—Llanbedr on
miles S. in a the Bychan, 3
farm called m—Llyn-y-Vedw,
Gwern Einion—A Llyn Eiddaw,
Druidical circle Llyn
between the Farm Glyn—Llyn-y-cwm
and Harlech. Bychan—Llyn
Trewyn.
MAENTWROG Do. 10 Maentwrog Inn, Tan-y-Bwlch— Llyn Llanyrch,
and Oakley Arms. Slate Quarries, 3½ m (good
5 m—Rhaiadr Du trout)—
and Raven fall, Cwmmorthin Lake
2 m—Festiniog, 3 (in the pass of
m—Falls of Cwmmorthin) 4½
Cynfall—Roman m—Llyn Mannot, 6
encampment m (large
(Toman Mur) 3 m trout)—Llyn
from Festiniog. Murionion, 6
m—Llyn Tackwyn.
3 m.
TREMADOC Caernarvonshire. 10½ Madoc Arms. The Breakwater Angling from
at Port Tremadoc.
Madoc—The
Church.
BEDDGELERT Do. 10½ The Goat. Gelert’s Nant
grave—The chair Gwynnant—Llyn
of Rhys Gocho’r’ Dinas—Cwm
Ryri—Pont Aber Llan—Llyn
Glas Llyn. Gwynnant—Llyn
Llydan.
LLANBERIS Do. 14 The Victoria, Dolbadarn Upper and lower
and Snowdonia. Castle—The lakes (bad
Church—The Tomb sport)—Llyn Cwm
of little John Dwythog, 2
Closs—Well of m—Llyn Llydan
St. (on Snowdon), 5
Peris—Lakes— m—Glaslyn, on
Pass. the W. of
Snowdon.
CAPEL CURIG Do. 10 Capel Curig Inn. Rhaiadr-y-Wennol
waterfall—Moel-Siabod—
Dolwyddelan
Castle, 5 m.
BETTWS-Y-COED Do. 5 Pont-y-pair— Lake Ogwen—Nant
Shenkin’s Francon—Llyn
Cave—Church— Idwal—R. Llugwy.
Monument to
Davyd Goch.
LLANRWST Denbighshire. 5 The Eagles. The
Bridge—Gwydir
Castle—The
Church—Gwydir
Chapel.
CONWAY Caernarvonshire. 12 The Castle, and The Bettws-y-Coed, 3
the Newborough Castle—Church— m—Trevriw, 2 ½
Arms. Curious m—Dol-garrog, 4
monuments—Plas m—Llanbedr, 5
Mawr—Ormes-head. m—Dolwyddelan, 8
m—Tal-y-Llyn,
and Llyn
Crafnant, near
Llanrwst.
ABER-GWYNGREGYN Do. 9 The Bulkley The Waterfall Llyn Ogwen—Llyn
Arms. and Glen—Penmaen Idwal, and Ogwen
Mawr. river.
BANGOR Do. 5½ The Penrhyn Penrhyn The fishing
Arms—The Castle—Slate stations as
Castle—the quarries— above.
Liverpool Arms, Caenarvon—Menai
and Albion. Bridge—Beaumaris
and
Castle—Penmon
Monastery—Plas
Newydd—Baron
Hill—Puffin
Island, and the
Cathedral.
CHAPTER I.
Preliminary observations—Preparations for a tour—Coach conversation—A
breakfast and an American traveller—Route to Birmingham—A dinner—Road to
Wolverhampton—Eccentric passengers—Lord Hill’s monument—Shrewsbury.
“Like brethren now do Welshmen still agree
In as much love as any men alive;
The friendship there and concord that I see
I doe compare to bees in honey hive,
Which keep in swarme, and hold together still,
Yet gladly showe to stranger great good will;
A courteous kinde of love in every place
A man may finde, in simple people’s face.”
CHURCHYARD.
VARIOUS, as the features of human nature, are the sources of human
happiness. Some derive their choicest pleasure from historical accounts
of men who lived in by-gone ages, and in re-creating events that have
long since been engulphed in the abyss of time,—breaking down the
barriers of intervening years, and mingling, in idea, with those who were
once deemed the glorious of the earth, who now lie blended with its
grossest atoms, or are confounded with the purer elements. Some,
parching with the thirst of knowledge, seek to slake the fever of their
minds with most laborious research; explore the utmost regions of the
globe to find a shorter marine passage; or pierce into its depths to seek
for treasures which only exist in their heated fancies. The vast ocean
is fathomed to satisfy the ruling principle of their natures,—curiosity;
and the realms of air traversed with the same motive to insure the
universally desired result, self-gratification. While some, leaving the
elements to perform the destined changes, are willing to agree with the
poet, who in the warmth of his philanthropy exclaims:
“The proper study of mankind is man;”
and among this class of beings the author of these pages may be ranked,
although he willingly confesses nature has the power of charming him in
her most minute as in her most stupendous works, from the curious and
confined instinct of the ant and of the bee to the wonderful and
exhaustless energies of the human mind,
“That source
Whence learning, virtue, wisdom, all things flow.”
The court, the city, and the country, present an endless variety of
subjects for contemplation; and the latter being the region of delight to
those whose business confines them to the metropolis for the winter
months, the author of this volume is anxious to be thought a useful and
an amusing companion to such tourists who, in pursuit of health and the
charms of nature, may wander
“In the Welsh vales ’mid mountains high,”
where the sublime and beautiful present themselves at every turn to
captivate the eye, and ruddy health colours the smiling faces of every
peasant girl and shepherd boy, from Chirk to Holyhead.
To a mind capable of estimating fine scenery, how delightful are the
hurry and bustle which usually take place on the morning of departure, in
fond expectation of realizing the anticipated pleasure of viewing those
beauties of nature the imagination has but weakly painted! The sun is
scarcely sooner up than the traveller; and, although the coach in which
he is to be rolled some hundred and fifty miles will not start for
perhaps three hours, his anxiety preponderates over the now slighted
comforts of his bed of down, and with an agile leap he quits his restless
pillow, and hastily despatching the business of his toilet, with his
heart beating high, and his knapsack already stuffed with three shirts,
as many pairs of stockings, guide books, and as few other necessaries as
may be, in order to make his walking wardrobe as light as possible, he
prepares to “take the road.” If a disciple of old Isaac Walton and
Cotton, he will not fail to have his book of flies, lines, reel, &c., and
a light fly rod to carry in his hand, and for which he is sure to have
use whenever he feels inclined for piscatory pastime on his tour. So
stocked and provided, he bids defiance to the evils of life; and may
exclaim with the poet
“Warly cares and warly men
May a’ gae tapsalteeree O!”
“Do you ride upon the box, sir?”
“To be sure I do—paid that fellow to keep it for me.”
“All right, sir: mount if you please,—not a minute to spare. All right
behind there?”
“All right.”
“Hold fast, sir!—let ’em go, Joey! Blow avay, Bill,” then addressing the
near wheeler; “eh, vot, you’re at your tantarums again! I’ll vork ’em
out of you before ve gets to the end of the stage. Do you know, sir, it
vas all along of this here varmint that ve’d the upset last veek.”
“Indeed! we’ve a pleasant prospect before us, then.”
“Oh there’s no fear, sir; I vas never upset in my life, and I’ve been
upon this here road for five and twenty years come next Christmas; but it
vas all along of a gemman as had the reins in hand, ven poor Ned Burkem
just vent in for his mornins, at the King’s Arms—yonder you may see the
sign just afore us; ve alvays stops there for our mornins, case you see,
sir, the landlord vas von of us, and his daughter is a main pretty girl.
I suppose, sir, you’ve no objection to look at a pretty girl, ha, ha!”
“None in the world, James.”
“Veil, here ve are; and now, sir, if you’ll just lay hold of the ribbons
for von minute, I’ll leave ’em this here parcel.”
To this proposition I agreed, with the proviso that one ostler should
hold the tricksey mare, and another stand at the leaders’ heads, having
no wish for a repetition of poor old Ned Burkem’s mishap. The parcel
being delivered, the half pint of purl swallowed, and James again seated,
like ruddy Phœbus, on the coach box, the horses were put in motion to the
tune of eleven miles an hour.
“Very pretty travelling this, Mr. —, I beg your pardon, sir, but your
name is —”
“Yes, you’re right, James.”
“Veil, I thought I vas, sir; it’s not always that I can remember names,
sir; for you must know that, although I’ve drove some thousands in my
time, just seated where you are, sir, at this present, I don’t think I
could remember one half of their names.”
“Very surprising indeed, for a man of your observation.”
“Lord bless you, sir, vy my observation is nothing to Squire —, that’s
his house you see on your left; they say he can see the Eclipse (coach)
in the moon. But they can’t tool ’em along as ve does here, I take it,
sir. Go along, snarler!”
James’s tongue and the coach continued in rapid progress; and in due time
we reached the Sportsman Inn at Whetstone, when the passengers had an
opportunity of displaying the extraordinary effects produced by the
morning air upon fasting stomachs. A lady and her daughter, who were
inside passengers, did ample justice to the fare; the latter, in
particular, payed away at the cold fowl and ham in a manner truly
surprising. “Coach ready, ladies,” cried James; and up jumped mother and
pet, with mouths full of fowl, toast, etc., which they washed down,
unmasticated, with the dregs of their tea; and in a minute were again
seated inside the coach, opposite to two gentlemen, one rather a
corpulent man, with “spectacles on nose,” the other a gay young citizen,
who was to leave us at Barnet.
The coach had not started above five minutes, before fragrant wreaths of
smoke were making their escape out of the window, and delighting the
outside passengers with the refreshing odour: for this we were indebted
to the stout gentleman before mentioned, who having lately arrived from
America, could not be expected to understand the civilized customs of
travellers in England, and who inconsiderately concluded that his cigar
was as agreeable to the ladies as to himself. It proved otherwise,
however: the cold fowl lay uneasy, and the ham seemed to object to being
smoked. This, both ladies endeavoured to intimate to their opposite
neighbour, by sundry wry faces and beseeching looks. At length, his
cigar being nearly finished, the smoker could no longer pretend blindness
to the distressing condition to which he had reduced his companions—and
he then asked “if they had any objection to smoking?”
The elderly lady, whose politeness had extended to the utmost limits of
her nature, with a forced smile replied (while the ashy paleness of her
face spoke the tumult that was stirring within,) “Not the—slightest, sir,
if you have no objection to—to—” open the other window, she would have
said, but the daughter could no longer support the motion of the coach
and the fumes of tobacco, and, to the horror of the American gentleman,
he instantly found himself in no very enviable situation.
He started from his seat, and almost lifted the roof of the coach off by
the concussion between it and his head. “No objection, madam!” cried he
in great wrath; “but I wish you to understand that I have a very great
objection to this, I calculate!—Here, coachman! stop! let me get out!
will you?”
Coachee complied, and the ladies were doubly relieved.
“I’m in a pretty considerable pickle, I’m thinking!” said he, as he
seated himself behind us on the roof.
The more agreeable rattle of the wheels prevented our hearing more of his
complaints, and we arrived at Barnet.
About a mile and a half from Barnet, upon the right, is the estate of Mr.
Byng, and a little further, on the left, that of Mr. Trotter. The town
of St. Albans with its ancient Abbey, which creates pleasing ideas of
bygone times, of monks and friars, “fat pullets and clouted cream,” was
passed through; and descending the hill, on leaving the town, fresh
objects became interesting to the eye.
After leaving Gorham Bury, Earl Verulam’s seat on the left, we came to
Market Street and passed a delightful residence called Market Cell, the
property of a Mr. Johnson, and beyond Sir F. P. Turner’s on the right,
and Mr. Duncombe’s on the left, are places that make a man desirous of
possessing £10,000 per annum.
Dunstable is rattled through next, and then comes _Fenny Stratford_,
_Stony Stratford_, _Easton Neston_, and then _Lord Pomfret’s_ noble
domain. _Towcester_ comes next upon the list, and _Weedon Barracks_,
where a view of the rail road presents itself.
Then the coach enters Dunchurch, changing horses at the Dun Inn; where
being pretty well roasted in the hot sun, some of the passengers
endeavoured to obtain a draught of something to moisten their parched
throats; but if the garrison of Weedon had discharged all their powder in
firing an alarm, and the bells of Dunchurch had joined in the uproar, I
do not think a single soul would have answered the summons in the Dun
Inn. We were obliged therefore to ascend again, with throats unquenched.
From Dunchurch the coach passes through a noble avenue of elms and firs
which stretches for six miles beyond the village, certainly the finest
avenue, in extent, I ever beheld; and the size of the trees is not the
least interesting object, spreading their luxuriant branches until they
form almost a continuous bower.
Coventry sends forth her store of ragged urchins to see the London coach
come in, and peeping Tom, in effigy, looks as inquisitive as peeping Tom
himself could have done.
_Aylesley Church_ is a very beautiful structure; and a little beyond is
Packington Hall, the Mansion of Lord Aylesford.
At Bucknell, another view of the railroad is obtained; and at length, to
the infinite joy of hungry passengers, Birmingham, and dinner, appear in
the distance.
We drew up to the inn. I was the only passenger who entered the dining
room. The coach was to stop for twenty minutes; and after waiting ten
with the patience of a stoic, the waiter entered with a calf’s head,
cold, over which some boiling water had been poured, by way of sauce. I
am fond of a mealy potatoe, and some were placed before me thoroughly
saturated; a cauliflower, boiled in the scented waters of fifty other
vegetables, completely scared away my appetite, and fully answered the
purposes both of landlord and coachman.
The latter at that moment popping his head in at the door, “Coach ready,
sir, if you please!”
“I’m glad of it; what’s to pay, my girl?”
“Three and sixpence for dinner, sir, if you please, and threepence for
ale.”
“Experience makes fools wise,”
I exclaimed, as with an empty stomach I reseated myself upon the box.
“St—st—go along! a fine town this, sir!”
“Is it?”
“Don’t you think so, sir?
“I never was in such a half starved, hungry looking place in my life,”
cried I, at that time feeling the cravings of nature strong within me,
and fancying I saw the ghost of a London cook shop, flitting before my
eyes.
The road from Birmingham to Shrewsbury, if travelled by night, gives a
stranger a glowing idea of the “fiery regions,” never mentioned to “ears
polite.” No description can come up to the flaming reality exhibited in
the appearance of this country; hundreds of hills of burning coke blaze
in all directions, and the air is scarcely endurable from the gaseous
qualities of the smoke, which sweeps across the road in huge columns,
almost suffocating every passenger who ventures upon that dismal tract.
But increasing horrors gather round the devoted tourist as he advances
further, on the road to Wolverhampton: thousands of indistinct forms move
in the glare of the distant fires, or flit, like a legion of black
devils, over the burning coals; sometimes standing in bold relief before
the blazing chimneys of fifty or sixty steam engines, that send up bursts
of flame glaring in all directions; and imagination might picture
thousands of fallen angels, tossing their flaming brands above their
heads, in frantic sport and direful revelry.
Groups of grinning imps sat scattered near the road side, whose yellings
made the welkin ring again as we passed by them. Roaring Bacchanals
filled the air with their drunken shouts; and withered hags held out
their bony hands for alms, to be expended in liquid fire for their
throats.
Behind me, on the roof of the coach, were two most eccentric travellers
who had taken their places at Birmingham for Shrewsbury. The night was
cold, and one, whom I discovered to be of the Emerald Isle, had, with
national foresight, provided himself with a dacent drop of “the mountain
dew,” just to keep the wind off his stomach; and next to him was seated a
demure looking personage, who by his peculiar dialect proved to be a son
of Scotia—
“Land of the mountain and the flood.”
“By the honor of Erin!” exclaimed the first, “I’m not at all surprised to
find you such a silent companion, for it’s a mighty cowld night, and your
conversation must nat’rally freeze before its spoken. Will you take a
drop of comfort to thaw it, my darlint?” at the same time presenting a
flask of potheen to the party he addressed.
It must be observed that this sprig of shamrock was dressed in a blue
jacket, with a light summer waistcoat, and a pair of duck trowsers, which
suited admirably the mid-day ride, but were inefficient to exclude the
cold night air. But I suppose he went, like the generality of his
countrymen, upon the philosophical principle, that “a light heart and a
thin pair of breeches goes thorough the world, my brave boys.” His
companion was dressed in a velvet shooting jacket, thick plush trowsers,
and waistcoat of the same, over which he wore a heavy box coat, which was
encased in a cloth cloak of unusual dimensions: over this was a
mackintosh cape, and his head was enveloped in a fur cap, fastened by an
Indian silk handkerchief tied round the chin—and altogether he seemed to
defy wind and weather.
This bundle of comfort, pulling down for an instant the neckerchief,
which was also rolled round the aperture of speech, emphatically stated
that he had no need of the offer.
“For ye ken,” said he, “that I’m a prudent mon, and never venture outside
o’ the coach, unless I have a’ the comforts o’ the inside about me;
there’s ne’er a mon, sir, shut up in that unhealthy box, ye may ken, but
is caulder than mysel; and I guess, fra’ the garments on your person,
that ye’re no quite sae warm.”
“Why thin if I was, I’d be thinking myself nearer to a certain personage
than I have any inclination to be for the next half century.”
“But ye ken that extremes meet; and I think by that calculation ye may be
nearer to the friend ye mention than I am, seeing that I am but just
comfortable, and ye are near the freezing point.”
Having uttered this sarcasm upon his shivering companion, the canny Scot
replaced the muffler over his lips, as a signal for silence, while the
Irishman, taking another draught from his pocket pistol, sang a stanza of
Erin go bragh, and consoled himself with striking a light for his cigar,
from which he sent clouds of smoke, which made our travelling convenience
resemble, in the gloom, a steam carriage, as it flew along, with nearly
as great rapidity; the lighted end serving, as a warming pan to his nose,
which thus illuminated, seemed not much unlike a blue light, such as
mariners burn for signals of distress.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Boxer,” said he, touching me on the shoulder,
“but are you a politician?”
“Why, to say the truth, sir,” I replied, “I interfere as little as
possible with what, I conceive, wiser heads than mine are greatly
puzzled.”
“Why that’s true, sure enough,” continued he, “but may be you’ve heard of
the—holloa!”
Here he was interrupted by his bulky companion, whom a lurch of the coach
had flung heavily upon him as he was leaning forward to reach my ear.
The Scotchman had fallen asleep, and effectually prevented his neighbour
from regaining his sitting posture, by the weight of his body and its
envelopes.
“Blood an’ ’ounds, man, what are ye about?” roared my friend in the thin
inexpressibles. “Sure I might as well be porter to Atlas himself, and
carry his load. Will you get up, if you please? By the shade of
O’Donahue, but I’ll create a connexion betwixt your nose and the lighted
end of my cigar, if you don’t let me up.”
A sonorous grunt, which drowned the rattle of the coach wheels, was the
only reply to this appeal, and Paddy being unacquainted with the
language, immediately put his threat into execution. I have said before
it was a cold night, and Sandy, who naturally enough started, at the
application of the cigar to his proboscis, from his ideal world to a
dreamy consciousness of his real situation, placing his hand on the
injured part, exclaimed, still half bewildered, “Eh! that’s vera true,
indeed. It’s a cauld night, and I verily believe that my nose is
frost-bitten. I maun pit t’other shawl round it;” saying which he
dragged one from his pocket, and was completely enveloped, apparently to
suffocation.
“Why then, I’ve heard of salamanders, but Scotland must be mighty cauld
since you left it,” said my thinly clad fellow traveller, when a half
smothered voice spoke through the rolls of shawls and silk handkerchiefs.
“Do you find yoursel’ sae hot in my company?”
The castinet-like sounds of the Irishman’s teeth was the only reply to
this question, and silence ensued.
“What column is that we are approaching, coachman?”
“Why that, sir, is a pillar.”
“Thank ye; but what was it placed there for?”
“Why, sir, it was put there by subscription, as a compliment to Lord
Hill.”
“Oh, indeed!”
The column is of the Doric order, rising from a base. The angles are
ornamented with lions couchant, and the height of the pillar is 132 feet;
upon its summit was placed a figure which old Push-along assured me was a
fine likeness of old Rowley; it was erected in 1814.
“Blow the horn, Ned, will you!” And now, rattling over stones, through
streets crowded with youthful idlers assembled to catch a sight of the
new comers, we rapidly approached the inn. In a moment more we were at
the gate of the Lion.
A good supper and a comfortable bed made amends for the bad dinner and
the cold ride, and in the morning I arose much refreshed, and sallied
forth to view the town.