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 yeare
Then 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 draw
The 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
obstructed by 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, towering over 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
interest is 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 I had 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 on either 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 entered upon 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
LLYN Y CWM BYCHAM,
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, which a 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.
THE WITCH OF CWM BYCHAN.
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, fancied himself 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 and tempest. 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.”
“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 the blood 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 toll
A 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 put
Mixtures of mighty power,
To aid my flight, through the night,
To thee, at trysting hour.
The Lady Gordon’s fav’rite child
I’ve roasted for this night,
And thus its fat upon my lids
I drop to aid my sight.
Come dance around, my fav’rite imps,
Robin and Prick-ear come!
Twice must the ocean wide be crossed
Ere 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 dye
My lips to ruby red,
And with the deep black soot of hell
The white locks of my head;
With tints from murdered virgin’s face
I gaily deck my own,
Till either cheek appears to wear
A 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 whispered soft 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. Long and 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.”
Meanwhile, General Mytton was hotly besieging the castle, which was
defended, with almost unprecedented bravery, by William Owain, the
governor, with no more than twenty-eight followers. In vain did the
clang of arms strike upon the warlike ears of Jacob;—he might have
exclaimed, in the language of Othello—
“Farewell the plumed troop, and the big war
Which makes ambition virtue—oh farewell!”
But, as he never read such profane authors, he contented himself with a
pious curse or two every second on the witch who had reduced him to such
a state of feebleness. He who was once foremost in the onset, whose
voice would animate his soldiers with a religious zeal, and oft reclaim
the fortune of the fight—the brawny, fearless Presbyterian lay like a
puling infant on his bed, wasted and pale, with scarcely breath enough to
render himself audible to those around him.
Sorely did Mytton need his aid, his reckless daring in leading an
assault—for the stimulating energy of his example was electric.
One night, when he heard the loud shouts of the enemy, and the declining
voices of his friends, Jacob grasped his sword, and, starting from his
bed, rushed, or rather staggered, to the barbican, which had been scaled
by a small body of the parliament forces, who surprised the warders at
the drawbridge, which crossed the fosse upon the inside, when, from the
interior a body of the royalists rushed with desperate valour, the
assailing party were forced to retreat by opening the massy gate of the
barbican, but not without leaving many wounded and dying comrades in the
deep fosse, into which they had been thrown during the struggle on the
drawbridge. At this critical moment, when disgrace appeared to hang over
the banner of his leader, Jacob, _en chemise_, forced his way into the
scene of action, striking terror to the foe, who took him for an
apparition, and invigorating the hearts of his friends. The royalists,
who had advanced, were driven back again in their turn.
But the hope of victory betrayed the besiegers to their ruin. Jacob,
determined to take the castle or die, with a huge axe was cutting through
the drawbridge to deprive his followers of all hope of escape, by
retreating that way; and the battle became furious beneath the double
portcullis which crowns the principal entrance. The besieged were driven
nearly into the inner court, when the mighty voice of Owain cried
aloud—“Let fall the portcullis!” So promptly was this order obeyed, that
the outer and inner grating enclosed the besiegers, as in a cage, and
left them entirely at the mercy of their conquerors.
Fortunately for Jacob, his weakness prevented him from carrying his
purpose into effect, and he retired, covered with confusion, to his bed,
while his companions whom he was forced to leave behind, resigned their
arms, through the inner grating, to their enemies, and were then
committed to the dungeons of the fortress.
On the morning after this defeat, a party of men, who had been sent into
the mountains to forage for goats, sheep, or provender of any kind that
might fall in their way, chanced to pass near old Janet’s dwelling, and
they resolved to revenge the cruel persecution of their captain, if they
could light upon the witch, who had occasioned his long sufferings.
Accordingly, they entered the cottage, where they perceived, before the
dying embers of a turf fire, the waxen image with which she worked the
charm, almost wasted away, but still bearing a strong resemblance to
Jacob Strongith-arm. This they seized, and instantly committed to the
water, placing, at the same time, some dried wood upon the turf, which,
with the aid of some gunpowder, was ignited. A quantity of dried furze
and heather was then piled upon it, and, in a short time, the flames
communicated with the rafters of every part of the building.
As they turned from the cottage, one of the party perceived an old woman
floating upon a plank on the lake, twisting and jumping, capering and
splashing, in a manner that made his hair stand on end. It was old Janet
herself, whose imps had deserted her, or he would never have been able to
detect her at her pastime. There she floated, twirling about, sometimes
on one leg, and then upon the other, till all of them being convinced it
was the witch, they resolved to seize her, and convey her to the General.
Three of them, named John Brown, James Haddock, and Joseph Stilt, being
the most courageous of the party, volunteered to capture her, though the
devil himself stood at her elbow, while she, not knowing that her imp,
Robin, whose power made her invisible to mortal eyes, had quitted her,
kept dancing on, without dreaming of any harm that could befall her from
the approach of mortals, although the plank upon which she stood nearly
touched the border of the pool. Suddenly, Joseph Stilt, who was the
foremost, roared out—“The witch! the witch!—we have her!” Janet then,
for the first time, felt afraid; but she still had some power left, and
Joseph Stilt, as he made a spring to come up with her, stuck fast in a
quagmire as deep as his chin, close to the edge of the lake, where he
remained storming, without the power to extricate himself. James
Haddock, who leaped over his head, sank to the bottom, and narrowly
escaped drowning. But John Brown, who always carried a verse of
scripture in front of his hat, calling on the Virgin for support,
alighted on the plank by the witch’s side, and, seizing her by the hair,
ferried her to a safe landing place, when his comrades, James Haddock,
and Joseph Stilt, having been assisted, by their fellows, out of
jeopardy, assisted him to convey her to Harlech, where they were told
that the dreadful exudations of Jacob had ceased, and, upon comparing
their accounts, they found that his recovery commenced at the very moment
when they flung his waxen effigy into the water, and set fire to the
witch’s hut.
When Janet was brought before the General and Jacob Strongith-arm, she
laughed to see his once stout frame dwindled as it was, and her laugh
frightened them all; so they tied her to a stake, and then began to
question her; but she disdained to make any reply. They then tried the
torture of the thumb-screw, but Janet only spat in their faces, for the
devil was strong within her; and James Haddock lost his eye, from the
heat of her saliva. The soldiers marvelled at her obstinacy, and Jacob,
growing full of ire, commanded them to fire a harquebuss at her, if she
persisted in her stubbornness. But this threat only increased the
fiendish laugh of old Janet into a yell of scorn. All threats proving
useless, the harquebussier fired his piece. But how were they astonished
to see the witch grinning defiance at them all, and holding the ball up
between her right finger and thumb! Another was fired at her, which she
caught in the left! Stilt, mad to see her triumph thus, ran at her with
his sword, which shivered to pieces upon her breast; and all this time
the witch laughed, and spat at, and reviled them. At length, Brown, who
had first arrested her, remembering he had been told that a witch, if
bled in any of the veins that cross the temples would soon give up the
ghost, walked boldly up to her, when the devil, scared at his intentions,
instantly quitted his votaress, and she, left helpless, could only storm,
and rave, and curse, and beg for life. But Brown drew the keen blade
across the full purple veins, and, with a scream of terror, she fell to
the ground.
Many crimes did she confess to the holy man, who attended her last
moments; besides the one just related, which render “the little hollow,”
a spot of fearful interest to the mountaineer, who, as he passes the lake
at nightfall, turns many an anxious glance behind, and fancies that he
hears, at times, the sound of unearthly voices in the gale, that sweeps
by him in this wild and lonely dell.
The castle was soon after surrendered to the Parliament forces, by its
brave commander, who had the honor of knowing, that he was the last, who
yielded up the trust confided to him, by his sovereign.
* * * * *
Our repast being concluded, we again mounted our horses, and commenced an
ascent up a dank, cheerless hollow, called _Bwlch Tyddiad_. Nothing can
exceed the wildness of the scenery, by which we were surrounded. Huge
masses of rock, riven by the thunder bolt, or loosened by the frost, lay
scattered in every direction, while, towering upon either side, the
herbless mountains frowned, barren, black, grey, and terrible.
Our horses, accustomed, I presume, to such excursions, picked their way
with the greatest care and safety, and my “Gallant Brown,” cleared every
impediment, as if he had been foaled amongst the Alps, and loved them
better than the verdant plain. Drawing nearer to the top of the cliff,
the shepherds had made a stair-like path of flat stones, along which our
cavalcade proceeded with caution; when suddenly we halted upon hearing
the distant halloos of travellers ascending the opposite side of the
mountain; and presently three persons, one of whom was leading a wearied
animal by the bridle, became distinctly visible. A shout of recognition
from our party roused all the echoes of the surrounding hills. The
figures, as they became more distinct, seemed magically transported with
myself into the heart of the Sierra Morena, where Cardenio, Don Quixote,
and Sancho Panza, appeared to me in their proper persons; for never was
description better realized, than in the figures that now presented
themselves. The first was a handsome, well formed man, with light brown
hair, which hung in plentiful thickness upon his shoulders; his untrimmed
beard, joined by overhanging moustachios, and the two being united to the
upper growth, by a pair of whiskers, the luxuriance of which shewed they
were permitted to grow in uninterrupted freedom. His throat was bare,
and his dress negligent. The second figure that attracted my attention,
was a very tall and extremely thin young man, with a serious cast of
features, that would have done honor to the knight of the woful
countenance. In his hand he led a jaded hack, which in the ascent seemed
to have yielded up three parts of its existence. Here then was the
Rosinante of Cervantes in a breathing form; while, by his side, a short
good humoured little man, with a huge portmanteau buckled on his back,
walked like a faithful squire, and made an admirable substitute for the
immortal Sancho; and, as he turned his eyes from precipice to glen, it
required no great stretch of imagination, to think they were wandering in
search of his beloved Dapple. We met upon a patch of green moss; and
here our hamper was again unpacked, to cheer the hearts of these toil
worn travellers.
[Picture: View from Carreg y Saeth]
By their advice, we ascended to the summit of the mountain, the view from
which was grand and extensive. To the eastward, a vast country lies
beneath, bounded by Cader Idris, the two Arrenigs, and a long range of
mountains. Immediately under the lofty eminence, upon which we rested,
was a small round lake, and the pass Ardudwy, which exceeds even the
celebrated Llanberris in rugged grandeur. The way by which our new
companions ascended was both laborious and dangerous; but they would not
have sacrificed the prospect now presented to them on any account. North
and south the eye glances over the summits of wild mountains, and to the
west the Carnaervonshire chain, cut in two, as it were, by a high
mountain, immediately before us, forms the shore of a noble sheet of
water, resembling a spacious lake, where the sea stretches its arm, into
the vale of Maentwrog, out of Cardigan Bay. The declining sun gave us
warning that it was time to quit these wilds, and make the best of our
way to the foot of the mountain.
The return is extremely hazardous on horseback. The ladies of the party,
therefore, resigning their steeds to the conduct of some mountaineers,
and the gentlemen leading their horses by the bridle, commenced the
descent. But as I could not, from lameness, advantage myself by like
caution, and feeling confident in the tact, strength, and docility of my
favourite, I led the way, without experiencing the slightest symptom of
uneasiness.
When we had proceeded about half way down, a circumstance occurred, that
occasioned some unpleasantness. A horse had broken loose from one of the
leaders, and at full speed came galloping down the steep and rugged
descent. The animal conducted by the tall, thin gentlemen, before
described, started as his fellow quadruped rushed by him, and, freeing
himself from control, dashed after him, at an alarming pace; leaving his
late master, with eyes starting out of their sockets, and mouth wide
open, with affright, his arms spread out, and his whole frame in
convulsions of terror, upon the top of a large stone, ludicrously
bewildered. My steed, evincing the truth of the proverb, “evil
communications” etc. for a moment lost his presence of mind, and
despising my efforts to restrain him, bounded over sundry perilous rocky
fragments, in desperate pursuit. However, by divers forcible arguments,
I at length succeeded in convincing him of his error, and he returned to
his duty.
The two runaways were soon out of sight, and as we concluded they had
broken their necks, we moved rather solemnly to the bottom of the hollow,
where our fears were dissipated, by finding them quietly browsing in the
green meadows, where we had before seated ourselves at pic-nic. All here
remounted; the sun’s rays still lingering upon the heights of
_Carreg-y-Saeth_, but the pool below looked black and cheerless. As we
proceeded, the beautiful calm light of evening, the cool and refreshing
air, “the shard borne beetle, with his drowsy hum,” the forest flies and
midges dancing in the clear ether, the murmuring of mountain streams, and
the joyous notes of our little party, uniting with the sharp tones of our
horses’ shoes, clinking against the rocky fragments, formed a combination
of pleasing sounds and images in this romantic solitude, which I shall
ever remember with feelings of interest and delight. After riding about
three miles, surrounded by every charm that could make the time pass
pleasantly, we arrived at the place of parting. A road branching to the
right led directly to Harlech, a distance of about two miles; and here,
with a feeling of regret, I hardly ever before experienced, I took leave
of my kind conductor, and his agreeable friends, a man being appointed to
walk with me as far as Harlech, for the purpose of taking back his
master’s horse.
Slowly and sadly I pursued my solitary ride, nor did I once address my
attendant, until I arrived at the inn, where dismounting, I committed to
his charge my gallant supporter throughout the day.