Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub

mossy stone, nor feathery tree is wanting, and there is a sufficient volume of water to give a character to the fall worthy of the accompaniments. The stranger will find himself often wandering involuntarily down to the Rhaiadr Cynfael. In one part of the glen will be noticed a great misshapen block of stone, standing high out of the centre of the stream: it is Hugh Lloyd's Pulpit, so called because when that famous Welsh worthy was about to summon a certain personage, who, though sufficiently ready to come when called, is rather a dangerous one to have dealings with, he used first to ensconce himself safely on this seat, where, surrounded by the stream, he was secure from the clutches of the ancient, if he should happen to provoke him overmuch. From this seat Hugh would discourse to him for a whole summer's day at a time. There are other traditions connected with the stream, which the tourist will be able to collect and piece-up for himself. We are tired of telling them.

From the mountains beyond Rhaiadr Cynfael there are very extensive and noble prospects. From Y-Foel Fawr the mountain prospect is particularly fine. The wide-ranging rugged chain on the opposite side of Ffestiniog, of which the triple peak of Moelwyn is the culminating point, is seen in all its grandeur, stretching away to the sea, while the giant Snowdon chain rises surge-like beyond and over it. More to the left, Cardigan Bay, with the low mountains bordering it, is a glorious object, as it lies glittering under the cloudless sky. On the other side is another mountain-tract which is crowned by the lofty Cader Idris. About these mountains are a good many small llyns. Just on the other side, towards the Dolgelley road, may be seen several objects of archæological interest. There are three or four barrows; the British fortress, CastellTomen-y-Mur, whose site is easily traceable; and the station, Heririmus, a little to the south-west of it, which is not quite so apparent. Moelwyn, the huge mountain-mass on the west of Ffestiniog, may be ascended without much difficulty: the summit affords prospects better known and more celebrated than those from the Foel Fawr chain, of which we have spoken. North of Ffestiniog there are also bold and lofty mountains, and about them are a good many llyns. In the vicinity are extensive slate-quarries: a railway for the conveyance of the slates to the ships, runs through the Vale of Ffestiniog.

Bala Lake will of course be visited: and as we did not turn aside to it when at Corwen, perhaps Ffestiniog is the best place to visit it from. It is a capital walk of about sixteen miles by a good mountain road; but the tourist may very well lengthen it a few miles by turning occasionally to the mountain side. The best way is to go down to Rhaiadr-Cynfael, and then proceed beside the stream to Pont Newydd (New Bridge). We need not repeat what we have just said of the beauty of this part of the Cynfael; but we may recommend the tourist not to miss that portion of it which is near Pont Newydd; for though it is not often visited, there are along here some as choice passages of the

[ocr errors]

scenery characteristic of Welsh mountain streams as Creswick ever painted. From the bridge, keep by the river (on the left of it) to Cwm Cynfael, and then look ahead for another waterfall—not like Rhaiadr Cynfael, for here the little stream comes right down the steep mountain-side for a considerable distance, leaping from rock to rock in a narrow dark cleft or gulley. It is a bare wild spot, but, under favourable circumstances, both striking and romantic: no one will regret having followed the guidance of Cynfael thus far. This fall bears the name of Rhaiadr Cwm. By the road it is about three miles; by the way we have pointed out it may be a mile further from Ffestiniog; but no one who has the least feeling for river-scenery will hesitate a moment which route to choose, or be likely to measure the distance. Somewhat less than a mile to the north of Rhaiadr Cwm is a lonely lake, called Llyn-y-Morwynion, the Lake of the Maidens, from the maidens who attended that naughty dame, Blodewedd, the treacherous wife of Llaw Gyffes, having been drowned in it. Blodewedd herself escaped drowning, being changed into an owl; whence that bird of ill omen has ever since borne her name. The curious wanderer may even now see standing down by Cynfael side, the slate-rock through which Llaw Gyffes thrust his lance in order to reach her paramour. And so there is a fragment of another tradition about Cynfael, though we have just declared we would repeat no more: however it is only a fragment: if the reader wish to read the whole story, he will find it told at length in the Mabinogion,' that old Welsh story-book, which Lady Guest has translated into such graceful English, and illustrated with so choice and rich a collection of notes.

[ocr errors]

We need not describe the road further: it is mountainous all the way; and towards the latter part it runs between the mountains Arenig and Carnedd-y-Filiast; the former 2,809, and the latter 2,127 feet above the sea. If the pedestrian choose to keep the right-hand road when near the eighth milestone from Bala, and then bear up the mountain side, he may visit LlynArenig, a circular mountain set in a frame of rough crags. He may also gain some wide views by the way. The road leads into the town of Bala, which lies at the lower end of the lake. Bala is a good-sized and populous Welsh town, but is not a place in itself to interest the visitor. Bala Lake-in Welsh, Llyn Tegid-is the largest in Wales. As its dimensions are sometimes over-stated, it may be as well to give them accurately. The lake is nearly straight: a line through the centre measures rather more than three miles and a half: the broadest part is nearly five-eighths of a mile across. In size, therefore, it will not take rank alongside of the larger of the lakes of Cumberland and Westmorland-to say nothing of Scotland. And it will hardly bear to be compared with them for grandeur. Yet it will certainly remind the traveller of the secondary lakes of Cumberland, and not unpleasantly. Bala, especially from the lower end, is assuredly very beautiful. The broad dark lake, and the soft graceful

[graphic][merged small]

frame of mountains, with the verdant slopes, the woods, a church or two, and a few villas and humbler houses, all repeated in the depths of the serene water, clear and perfect as they appear above, save where lines of silver stream across the blue expanse, form a picture which cannot be looked on without delight, or remembered without pleasure. A road is carried quite round the lake, and the circuit should be made it will yield a grand diversity of prospects. Some of the very finest views of Bala are those obtained from the east side, looking towards Arenig. If it be perambulated, and afterwards a boat be taken upon the lake for an hour or two-and especially towards evening or by moonlight-Bala will not only be thoroughly seen, but certainly remembered. Seen from the heights at a little distance, the lake, lying nestled in the bosom of the mountains, has quite a new and most beautiful

appearance.

Several streamlets flow down from the mountains, and enter the head of Bala Lake: the largest of them is known as Dwfrdwy, and is generally considered to be the head stream of the Dee; but it is difficult to imagine how that can be, unless, as old writers (and

Camden among others) affirmed, the waters of the Dee passed through Pimble Mere (for so English writers used to call Llyn Tegid), without mingling with it. The river, which flows out of Bala Lake, is the Dee; and the vale along which it flows is known as the Vale of Edeirnion-by many considered to be one of the most lovely of the Welsh valleys. Bala Lake and the Dee here are both well known to anglers. In Bala great numbers of a fish called the gwyniaid, so named, it is said, from the whiteness of its scales, are taken; they are much esteemed for their delicate flavour. Bala is a good fishing station. Besides the lake, there are numerous mountain-llyns in the vicinity, which yield fair sport to a skilful artist.

We must not quit the banks of Bala without reminding the reader that they are classic ground. Llywarch Hen, one of the most famous of Welsh bards-the author of the Triads,' translated by Mr. William Owen

spent the last years of his life here, seeking to solace himself under his misfortunes; and perhaps finding comfort in repeating them. Llywarch had been a soldier before he became a bard: he took up his pen only when he laid aside his lance. When he wrote,

he was "old and he was alone." There is something | women and the beauty of the country; and what was majestic in his statement of his grief:

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

Wretched is the fate that was fated

For Llywarch on the night he was born,

Long pains, without being delivered of his trouble." His sorrows did not abbreviate his days much, if the tradition may be credited which makes him to have lived to the age of a hundred and fifty years. It is said that a spot in this neighbourhood is still shown as the place where he died, and that it bears his name. If the reader have not formed an acquaintance with the ancient Welsh triads, this translation of Llywarch Hen is the best he can turn to it is full of real poetry.

indisputably true in the days of Elizabeth is no less. certainly true in those of Victoria. So every native asserts; and the stranger, though his means of judging are unhappily but limited, seldom hesitates to admit and corroborate the assertion. Great is the pity, therefore, that we can make but brief tarriance in this land of loveliness; but as we have indicated what is to be looked for, the visitor will not complain. We lingered too long at Ffestiniog and Bala to stay long here.

In whatever direction the stranger turns, he will find beauty on every hand: and the little town itself, though anything but beautiful when in it, is really a beautiful object when seen from a distance. More than in most parts of the mountainous districts, the ancient woods seem to have been preserved around Dolgelley: hence there is what is always so beautiful and cheerful,—a succession of rich prospects, formed by the combination Which is the best place to visit the famous cataract of grand old trees with mountains and running streams. Pistyll Rhaiadr from is not easy to say: from no place This may be witnessed to perfection by turning towards is it very accessible. From Bala there is a way to it Nannau, the seat of Sir R. W. Vaughan: a spot famous over the Bearwyn mountains; but the distance is above for its almost matchless scenery, ancient hospitality, fourteen miles of a rough mountain road. If the Vale old traditions, and almost equally for its modern splenof Edeirnion be descended, the road from Llandrillo, dour. The park is extensive, broken into hill and over the mountains, may be taken the distance is dingle, well stored with venison, lively streams run some nine miles. The nearest village on the Denbigh-through it, and it abounds in those shire side is Llanrhaiadr, which is only about four miles from the fall. Pistyll Rhaiadr, the Spout of the Cataract, is formed by the little river Rhaiadr, which falls over a mountain side at the end of a close valley. It is a wild and lonely spot, and the waterfall has a most remarkable appearance. The water is said to fall the height of 240 feet. The rocky scarp down which it tumbles is bare, black, and precipitous, and contrasts well with the woody hollow; but there is a want of water, unless after stormy weather; and altogether it is hardly so fine an object as, from its height, would be expected. There is a little inn close by; and the neighbourhood, we imagine, would be worth devoting a day or so to.

DOLGELLEY.

The road from Bala to Dolgelley it would be tedious to describe; and, indeed, we believe the tourist would find it best to avail himself of the coach which runs during the summer months between these places. From Ffestiniog there is a very interesting road by the coast. Dolgelley is, like most Welsh towns, nought in itself. The houses are mean, irregular, and hardly picturesque; the streets are narrow and dirty: it has a considerable population, and some trade. The manufacture of flannel, once carried on to some extent, has declined; but of late the weaving of finer woollen cloths has been tried with success.

The interest of the place to tourists, however, consists altogether in its admirable situation as a centre from which to examine the beauties of this part of Merionethshire. Old Camden was moved to declare that Merioneth was matchless alike for the loveliness of its

"Old patrician trees

And plebeian underwood"

that so distinguish English parks; what kind of scenery it may exhibit, therefore, when the distant and finelyformed mountain summits-and old Cader is among the number-are added, will readily be conceived. Passing through Nannau, or taking the road, the next visit will be made to the waterfalls. The first of them, Rhaiadr Ddu, the Black Cataract, is about four miles from Dolgelley, on the road to Maentwrog: it stands within private grounds, but access is granted to it; a path has been formed to the bottom, whence it can be best seen. The fall is said to be sixty feet; there is a tolerable sheet of water; the rocks around and above are crested with luxuriant wood; and the scene altogether is striking and beautiful. Two or three miles farther is another fall, Pistyll-y-Cain, the Spout of the Cain. Here the water is precipitated from a height of 150 feet; but the stream is comparatively small, the rocks are flat and regularly stratified; and though there is wood, it, too, seems to partake of the prevalent formality. However, it might not always appear so, and Pistyll-y-Cain is at any rate sufficiently remarkable to deserve a visit. Not far from it is another but less important fall, the Rhaiadr-y-Mawddach, so called from the river by which it is formed. The neighbourhood is very picturesque.

This road to Maentwrog is not, as will be seen, lacking in interest: yet the road by the sea is the preferable one, as Barmouth and Harlech may be thus visited. We must run rapidly over the ground to Harlech. The road lies along the north bank of the Maw river, or Afon Mawddoch. A mile below Dolgelley a boat may be

had, and the passage to Barmouth be made by water. | topic of conversation. What more can the wateringplace lounger desire?

It is a pleasant sail at full tide, but the scenery from the bank of the river is so fine that the tourist should go one way on foot. At Llanelltyd, two miles from Dolgelley, a little to the right of the long bridge, are the ruins of Kymmer Abbey: they are very slight, little more than a battered gable; but with the surrounding scenery, especially if made to form a foreground object to Cader Idris, abundantly picturesque —at least a clever painter would see how to make a good picture of them.

We have noticed in the book of a lady-tourist the remark, that in the journey between Barmouth and Dolgelley "it is difficult to decide as to which bank is to be preferred, both offering so much to be admired." In a coach it may be difficult (though, by the way, there is no coach-road on the south bank, and any road on that side to or from Barmouth will be found rather roundabout), but on foot the difficulty would quickly vanish. The scenery along the south bank cannot but be pleasing, but it cannot be more-along the north it is of almost indescribable beauty, and of the richest variety. After awhile (we are supposing that the tourist has chosen the time of full tide, else there is a muddy swamp) the stream expands rapidly into a broad and noble river; the banks are richly wooded; and looking across the river, southwards, you have the glorious range of mountains, of which Cader Idris is the chief, and which is of course invisible from the opposite bank; whence you see a comparatively tame tract. About Glyn-dwr, eight miles from Dolgelley, the river makes a bold bend, and appears like an inland lake, of above a mile and a quarter broad, and several miles long. From the heights just by, you have a well-wooded foreground, then this fine sheet of water, and beyond, towering high above the lesser mountains, the magnificent form of Cader Idris. There are several other views hardly inferior. The views, too, up the river are very beautiful; while downwards, the estuary of the Mawddoch, with the sea beyond and the high banks on either hand, is extremely fine.

Barmouth is a watering-place: whether as flourishing as it used to be we really do not know. It is a strange little town. The houses are oddly dotted about, here and there, in all sorts of queer and awkward situations; some by the beach, some on the hill-side almost on the top of each other, some in every out-of-the-way nook and corner. And they are as cdd-looking as oddplaced. The town stands at the confluence of the river; in front stretches a long waste of shifting sand. The sand fills the roadway, fills the houses, promises to fill up the town. It is nevertheless a pleasant place, after its kind. There are boarding-houses and a library; baths and a good beach; also a pier. There is a capital hotel, wherein is a strenuous harper. There are young ladies and ladies of a certain age; and there are gentlemen of the kind who commonly dawdle about at watering-places: and all are ever laudably watching for some new arrival, some new scandal, or some new thing, that may afford them some new occupation or

Very dull is the road between Barmouth and Harlech : every body says so, and every body is doubtless right. Yet there is the sea on one hand, and on the other is many an opening in the too monotonous mountainslopes, which might well tempt aside a leisurely wanderer: and there are moreover many villages, Llan somethings or other (there are at least half a dozen of these Llans between Barmouth and Harlech), with their humble churches and churchyards, with the curiously inscribed grave-stones, calling you aside to rest or to moralize. There is, in truth, a good deal of quiet rustic character about some of these villages, and we cannot help thinking that he must be a somewhat fastidious person who finds this road quite intolerable. A little way past Lord Mostyn's house there are a couple of cromlechs at a short distance from the road.

Harlech Castle was built by Edward I.,-as native historians assert, on the site of an old British fortress. The situation is a strong one-and, what is more important at present, a picturesque one. The Castle stands on a lofty cliff, whose base was at one time washed by the sea, though now a marshy tract intervenes. The building is nearly a square, of two hundred feet each way, with round towers at the angles, and on each side of the chief entrance. On some of the towers slight fragments of the light turrets which rose from them yet remain. The castle is quite ruinous. Seen from the marsh below, its appearance, raised aloft on the edge of the steep rock, is very striking. But it appears even finer from the summit of the rocks just outside the road wall, a hundred yards or two before you reach the castle: there the building and the cliff on which it stands are both seen to perfection, while beyond is the broad Traeth Mawr, backed by a low dark range of mountains, above which are the cloudcapt peaks of Snowdon. (Cut, No. 16.)

Harlech Castle must unquestionably have been a very formidable place to assault when first erected, and before villainous gunpowder was used in a siege. From the sea, with such a rock to scale, it was almost impregnable; while on the land-side there was a huge fosse cut out of the rock to get over. The walls were stout; the round towers with their turrets so constructed as to cover every approach. It was taken on several occasions, but it stood out long enough to sustain the credit of the architect no less than the garrison. It was besieged and taken by Owen Glyndwr and it was maintained by him for four years. During the War of the Roses it was held by a sturdy Welsh captain, Davydd ap Jefan ap Einion, for Henry VI., and was only surrendered when the garrison were nearly starved Queen Margaret for awhile found refuge here. In the great civil war, Harlech Castle maintained its old loyal reputation: it was the last castle in North Wales to yield to the Parliament. It was dismantled not long after.

The ruins of Harlech Castle are worth going over, though not so interesting as those of some of the other

castles we have visited.

There is a magnificent view from them on a fair day. Far above the intervening mountains rises the Snowdon chain; and sometimes, when the valley is filled with a light vapour and the base is invisible, the black peaks stand out as though self-supported in front of the pale sky. But always, unless obscured by cloud or mist, that mountain view is a noble one. The town of Harlech is a small poor place; but the old-looking scrambling houses about the outskirts, with an occasional glimpse of one of the castle-towers, might tempt an artist, like our old favourite Prout, to draw forth his sketch-book. There is a good inn here for any one who may choose to make this a halting-place; and there are some things worth staying to see, if there be abundant leisure. There is a narrow valley and pass, called Cwm Bychan, and Drws Ardudwy, some four or five miles distant, which are said to be remarkably fine. But we have not seen them; nor a waterfall there is somewhere within two or three miles of Harlech, which we have heard highly spoken of. The antiquary will find a great many tumuli, cromlechs, a stone circle, and other British or Celtic remains, within the compass of a few miles from Harlech. The road from Harlech to Maentwrog is certainly much finer than from Barmouth to Harlech. On arriving at Traeth Bach, the estuary of the Dwyryd, it becomes really fine, and increases in beauty more or less up to Maentwrog.

MALLWYD.

Should the visitor determine to ascend Cader Idris, he may obtain a guide (and it is a kind of mountain that perhaps needs one as much as most) at Dolgelley, from which place the ascent will be best made. We have not been on the summit, only over the shoulder, of Cader, the weather having been perverse each time we have been in the vicinity. The base of Cader Idris is less extended than most of the greater of the Welsh mountains, and the climb is therefore probably a rather laborious one; as indeed it is generally said to be. But the view from it is generally praised; and it is no doubt worth ascending. It is nonsense to say, as many do, that it is enough to ascend one mountain in a district to understand the character of the scenery. It may be as much perhaps as it is convenient to do; for mountain-climbing takes up a great deal of time, and can only be done (by the stranger) to any good purpose in fair weather. But nothing is more certain than that every great mountain has features all its own; that each is quite unlike every other; and that the labour will be abundantly recompensed to him who has time to make the ascent. The height above the sea is 2,914 feet.

Cader Idris signifies the Seat of Idris: according to the tradition it was the favourite observatory (for he was an astronomer) of that very great personage. How great a person he was, any one may see who passes along the Machynlleth road which winds round the base of Cader Idris. A lake will be noticed, by which

are three large blocks of stone (as one might in these degenerate days term them), the largest being about twenty feet long, nearly as wide, and a dozen feet high. The lake is called Llyn Trigrainwyn-the Lake of the Three Pebbles. The stones were shaken by Idris out of one of his shoes: they had got into it one day as he was walking over this pebbly country, and he found them a little inconvenient.

Tal-y-Llyn is the name of a little village at the foot of the lake, which is generally called Tal-y-Llyn, but whose real name is Llyn Mwyngil. The village is, from its situation, singularly picturesque By the bridge there is a small chapel: together they make a pretty little picture, as seen across a corner of the lake. Taly-Llyn Lake is barely a mile and a quarter in length, and nowhere half a mile broad; yet is it, beyond dispute, one of the most beautiful in Wales. Looking downwards, it is soft, placid, and exquisitely beautiful. From the foot it is no less grand. The banks are gently winding and varied; there is sufficient foliage. about to relieve the barrenness of the craggy mountains; and in the distance is the majestic form of Cader Idris, here exhibiting most effectively his walls of bare rock, black cwms, and lofty peaks. It is a splendid scene, equally delightful and impressive, whether beheld before the Snowdon district be visited, or after it has been thoroughly explored. The lake is greatly resorted to by anglers, it being famous for yielding abundance of a very delicate trout; and Colonel Vaughan, the proprietor of it, affording every facility to the gentle brethren. Cader Idris is a noble-looking mountain, from whichever side he is beheld. The sketch from which the wood-cut was engraved (Cut, No. 17) was taken from Brafch Coch, an eminence at the end of the valley through which the Machynlleth road is carried from the head of Tal-y-Llyn.

The road from this spot to Machynlleth-a very pleasant one-is carried alongside but generally at some height above the Afon Dulas, a stream that is in parts an admirable example of a Welsh stream which has fairly escaped from the mountains. We found some delicious scenery along its bed. It falls into the Afon Dyfi just before Machynlleth is reached. Machynlleth is a moderate-sized Welsh town, with some respectable shops, a couple of good-sized inns, and a considerable trade. But it lies too much on one side for the tourist of North Wales, and there is nothing in it to make it worth his while to go out of the way to visit it. His best plan will be to go to Mallwyd, if he wish to look at this part of the principality.

Mallwyd is a very quiet little village, not much visited by tourists, but a favourite station for artists and anglers. It is indeed an excellent centre from which to visit some delightful scenery, or to enjoy some good fishing; and the inn is quite the pleasant comfortable hostel which both sketchers and fishermen know so well how to appreciate. The village is seated on the Afon Dyfi, just in the loveliest part of its course; and, though in Merionethshire, just on the borders of Montgomeryshire. The river-scenery

« PředchozíPokračovat »