Wild Wales

_Maid_.-A very good man indeed, sir. He lives close by. Shall I go and tell him you want to speak to him?

_Myself_.-O dear me, no! He can employ his time much more usefully than in waiting upon me.

After supper I sat quiet for about an hour. Then ringing the bell I inquired of the maid whether there was a newspaper in the house. She told me there was not, but that she thought she could procure me one. In a little time she brought me a newspaper, which she said she had borrowed at the parsonage. It was the _c.u.mro_, an excellent Welsh journal written in the interest of the Church. In perusing its columns I pa.s.sed a couple of hours very agreeably, and then went to bed.

CHAPTER LXXVI

Mallwydd and its Church-Sons of Shoemakers-Village Inn-Dottings.

The next day was the thirty-first of October, and was rather fine for the season. As I did not intend to journey farther this day than Machynlleth, a princ.i.p.al town in Montgomerys.h.i.+re, distant only twelve miles, I did not start from Mallwyd till just before noon.

Mallwyd is a small but pretty village. The church is a long edifice standing on a slight elevation on the left of the road. Its pulpit is ill.u.s.trious from having for many years been occupied by one of the very celebrated men of Wales, namely Doctor John Davies, author of the great Welsh and Latin dictionary, an imperishable work. An immense yew tree grows in the churchyard, and partly overshadows the road with its branches. The parsonage stands about a hundred yards to the south near a grove of firs. The village is overhung on the north by the mountains of the Arran range, from which it is separated by the murmuring Dyfi. To the south for many miles the country is not mountainous, but presents a pleasant variety of hill and dale.

After leaving the village a little way behind me I turned round to take a last view of the wonderful region from which I had emerged on the previous evening. Forming the two sides of the pa.s.s down which comes "the royal river" stood the Dinas mountain and Cefn Coch, the first on the left, and the other on the right. Behind, forming the background of the pa.s.s, appearing, though now some miles distant, almost in my close proximity, stood Pen Dyn. This hill has various names, but the one which I have noted here, and which signifies the head of a man, perhaps describes it best. From where I looked at it on that last day of October it was certainly like an enormous head, and put me in mind of the head of Mambrino mentioned in the master work which commemorates the achievements of the Manchegan knight. This mighty mountain is the birth-place of more than one river. If the Gerres issues from its eastern side, from its western springs the Maw that singularly picturesque stream, which enters the ocean at the place which the Saxons corruptly call Barmouth and the c.u.mry with great propriety Aber Maw or the disemboguement of the Maw.

Just as I was about to pursue my journey, two boys came up, bound in the same direction as myself. One was a large boy, dressed in a waggoner's frock, the other was a little fellow, in a brown coat and yellowish trowsers. As we walked along together, I entered into conversation with them. They came from Dinas Mawddwy. The large boy told me that he was the son of a man who carted mwyn, or lead ore, and the little fellow that he was the son of a shoemaker. The latter was by far the cleverest, and no wonder, for the sons of shoemakers are always clever, which a.s.sertion, should anybody doubt, I beg him to attend the examinations at Cambridge, at which he will find that in three cases out of four the senior wranglers are the sons of shoemakers. From this little chap I got a great deal of information about Pen Dyn, every part of which he appeared to have traversed. He told me, amongst other things, that there was a castle upon it. Like a true son of a shoemaker, however, he was an arch rogue. Coming to a small house, with a garden attached to it, in which there were apple-trees, he stopped, whilst I went on with the other boy, and after a minute or two came running up with a couple of apples in his hand. "Where did you get those apples?" said I; "I hope you did not steal them."

He made no reply, but bit one, then making a wry face, he flung it away, and so he served the

I continued my way with the other lad, occasionally asking him questions about the mines of Mawddwy. The information, however, which I obtained from him was next to nothing, for he appeared to be as heavy as the stuff which his father carted. At length we reached a village, forming a kind of semicircle on a green, which looked something like a small English common. To the east were beautiful green hills; to the west the valley, with the river running through it, beyond which rose other green hills, yet more beautiful than the eastern ones. I asked the lad the name of the place, but I could not catch what he said, for his answer was merely an indistinct mumble, and before I could question him again he left me, without a word of salutation, and trudged away across the green.

Descending a hill, I came to a bridge, under which ran a beautiful river, which came foaming down from a gulley between two of the eastern hills.

From a man whom I met I learned that the bridge was called Pont Coomb Linau, and that the name of the village I had pa.s.sed was Linau. The river carries an important tribute to the Dyfi-at least it did when I saw it, though perhaps in summer it is little more than a dry water-course.

Half-an-hour's walking brought me from this place to a small town, or large village, with a church at the entrance, and the usual yew-tree in the churchyard. Seeing a kind of inn, I entered it, and was shown by a lad-waiter into a large kitchen, in which were several people. I had told him in Welsh that I wanted some ale, and as he opened the door he cried with a loud voice, "c.u.mro!" as much as to say, Mind what you say before this chap, for he understands c.u.mraeg-that word was enough. The people, who were talking fast and eagerly as I made my appearance, instantly became silent, and stared at me with most suspicious looks. I sat down, and when my ale was brought I took a hearty draught, and observing that the company were still watching me suspiciously, and maintaining the same suspicious silence, I determined to comport myself in a manner which should, to a certain extent, afford them ground for suspicion. I therefore slowly and deliberately drew my note-book out of my waistcoat pocket, unclasped it, took my pencil from the loops at the side of the book, and forthwith began to dot down observations upon the room and company, now looking to the left, now to the right, now aloft, now alow, now skewing at an object, now leering at an individual, my eyes half closed, and my mouth drawn considerably aside. Here follow some of my dottings:-

"A very comfortable kitchen with a chimney-corner on the south side-immense grate and brilliant fire-large kettle hanging over it by a chain attached to a transverse iron bar-a settle on the left-hand side of the fire-seven fine large men near the fire-two upon the settle, two upon chairs, one in the chimney-corner smoking a pipe, and two standing up-table near the settle with gla.s.ses, amongst which is that of myself, who sit nearly in the middle of the room a little way on the right-hand side of the fire.

"The floor is of slate; a fine brindled greyhound lies before it on the hearth, and a shepherd's dog wanders about, occasionally going to the door and scratching as if anxious to get out. The company are dressed mostly in the same fas.h.i.+on-brown coats, broad-brimmed hats, and yellowish corduroy breeches with gaiters. One who looks like a labouring man has a white smock and a white hat, patched trowsers, and highlows covered with gravel-one has a blue coat.

"There is a clock on the right-hand side of the kitchen; a warming-pan hangs close by it on the projecting side of the chimney-corner. On the same side is a large rack containing many plates and dishes of Staffords.h.i.+re ware. Let me not forget a pair of fire-irons which hang on the right-hand side of the chimney-corner!"

I made a great many more dottings, which I shall not insert here. During the whole time I was dotting the most marvellous silence prevailed in the room, broken only by the occasional scratching of the dog against the inside of the door, the ticking of the clock, and the ruttling of the smoker's pipe in the chimney-corner. After I had dotted to my heart's content I closed my book, put the pencil into the loops, then the book into my pocket, drank what remained of my ale, got up, and, after another look at the apartment and its furniture and a leer at the company, departed from the house without ceremony, having paid for the ale when I received it. After walking some fifty yards down the street I turned half round and beheld, as I knew I should, the whole company! at the door staring after me. I leered sideways at them for about half a minute, but they stood my leer stoutly. Suddenly I was inspired by a thought.

Turning round I confronted them, and pulling my note-book out of my pocket, and seizing my pencil, I fell to dotting vigorously. That was too much for them. As if struck by a panic, my quondam friends turned round and bolted into the house; the rustic-looking man with the smock-frock and gravelled highlows nearly falling down in his eagerness to get in.

The name of the place where this adventure occurred was Cemmaes.

CHAPTER LXXVII

The Deaf Man-Funeral Procession-The Lone Family-The Welsh and their Secrets-The Vale of the Dyfi-The Bright Moon.

A Little way from Cemmaes I saw a respectable-looking old man, like a little farmer, to whom I said:

"How far to Machynlleth?"

Looking at me in a piteous manner in the face, he pointed to the side of his head and said:

"Dim clywed."

It was no longer no English, but no hearing.

Presently I met one yet more deaf. A large procession of men came along the road. Some distance behind them was a band of women, and between the two bands was a kind of bier, drawn by a horse, with plumes at each of the four corners. I took off my hat, and stood close against the hedge on the right-hand side till the dead had pa.s.sed me some way to its final home.

Crossed a river, which, like that on the other side of Cemmaes, streamed down from a gully between two hills into the valley of the Dyfi. Beyond the bridge on the right-hand side of the road was a pretty cottage, just as there was in the other locality. A fine, tall woman stood at the door, with a little child beside her. I stopped and inquired in English whose body it was that had just been borne by.

"That of a young man, sir, the son of a farmer, who lives a mile or so up the road."

_Myself_.-He seems to have plenty of friends.

_Woman_.-O yes, sir, the Welsh have plenty of friends both in life and death.

_Myself_.-An't you Welsh, then?

_Woman_.-O no, sir, I am English, like yourself, as I suppose.

_Myself_.-Yes, I am English. What part of England do you come from?

_Woman_.-Shrops.h.i.+re, sir.

_Myself_.-Is that little child yours?

_Woman_.-Yes, sir, it is my husband's child and mine.

_Myself_.-I suppose your husband is Welsh?

_Woman_.-O no, sir, we are all English.

_Myself_.-And what is your husband?

_Woman_.-A little farmer, sir; he farms about forty acres under Mrs. -.

_Myself_.-Well, are you comfortable here?

_Woman_.-O dear me, no, sir! we are anything but comfortable. Here we are three poor lone creatures in a strange land, without a soul to speak to but one another. Every day of our lives we wish we had never left Shrops.h.i.+re.

_Myself_.-Why don't you make friends amongst your neighbours?

_Woman_.-O, sir, the English cannot make friends amongst the Welsh. The Welsh won't neighbour with them, or have anything to do with them, except now and then in the way of business.

_Myself_.-I have occasionally found the Welsh very civil.