SNOWDON.
We engaged the miner [158a] as our conductor over the mountain, who entertained us much with displaying, in strong colours, the tricks and impositions of his brother guides. [158b]
At half-past twelve, we started from our inn, determined to see the sun rise from its highest summit. The night was now very dark, and we could just discover, that the top of Snowdon was entirely enveloped in a thick impenetrable mist: this unpropitious omen staggered our resolutions; and we for some time hesitated respecting our farther progress; but our guide assuring us that his comfortable cottage was not far distant, we again plucked up resolution; and, quitting the high way about two miles on the Caernarvon road, we turned to the right, through a boggy, unpleasant land, and in danger of losing our shoes every step we took. This soon brought us to the comfortable cot, the filth and dirtiness of which can better be imagined than described; a worm-eaten bed, two small stools, and table fixed to the wall, composed the whole of his furniture; two fighting-cocks were perched on a beam, which Thomas seemed to pride himself in the possession of: the smoke of the fire ascended through a small hole in the roof of this comfortable mansion, the door of which did not appear proof against the “churlish chiding of the winter blast.”
Such, indeed, was the situation of this Cambrian mountaineer: and, though, in our own opinion, misery, poverty, and dirt personified, seemed to be the real inhabitants of this cottage, yet there was something prepossessing in his character; for frequently, with the greatest vehemence imaginable, and in the true style of an anchorite, he declared, that, “though he boasted not riches, yet he boasted of independence; and though he possessed not wealth, yet he possessed the home of happiness, an honest breast.”
The morning appearing to wear a more favourable aspect, we again sallied forth; the bogs, however, still rendered it extremely unpleasant. But this inconvenience was only temporary; we soon came to a part of the mountain entirely composed of loose stones and fragments of rock, which affording only a very treacherous footing, you are liable to perpetual falls. The mountain now became much steeper, the path less rocky, and our mountaineer, the higher we proceeded, more induced to exhibit feats of his agility, by occasionally running down a short precipice, and then, by a loud shout of vociferation, shewing us the obedience of the sheep, who instantaneously flocked around him at the sound of his voice: it is singular, the caution implanted in this animal, by instinct, for the mutual protection of each other; from the liberty they enjoy, they seldom congregate in one flock, but are generally discovered grazing in parties from six to a dozen, one of which is regularly appointed centinel, to watch the motions of their inveterate enemies (foxes and birds of prey), which infest this mountain. A wider expanse of the hemisphere disclosed itself, and every object below us gradually diminished as we ascended. The freshness of the mountain whetted our appetites; and our conductor, with very little persuasion, soon influenced us to open our little basket of provisions. The sun, the “rich hair’d youth of morn,” was just peeping from his bed; and having refreshed ourselves, with eager impatience, we again climbed the rugged precipice; for we had still a considerable height to ascend. We now passed several steep declivities by a narrow path not more than three yards wide, with a dreadful perpendicular on each side, the sight of which almost turned us giddy. As we were passing this hazardous path, a thick mist enveloped us, and an impenetrable abyss appeared on both sides; the effect, indeed, can scarcely be conceived; our footing to us, puisne mountaineers, seemed very insecure; and a total destruction would have been the consequence of one false step. The air grew intensely cold, and, by our guide’s recommendation, we a second time produced our pistol of rum, diluted with milk; but this cordial must be used with caution, as a very small quantity of strong liquor affects the head, owing to the rarefaction of the air. On our reaching the summit, all our difficulties were forgotten, and our imaginary complaints overborne with exclamations of wonder, surprise, and admiration. The light, thin, misty cloud, which had for some time enveloped us, as if by enchantment, suddenly dispersed; the whole ocean appeared illuminated by a fiery substance, and all the subject hills below us, for they resembled mole-hills, were gradually tinged by the rich glow of the sun; whose orb becoming at length distinctly visible, displayed the whole island of Anglesea so distinctly, that we descried, as in a map, its flat and uncultivated plains, bounded by the rich and inexhaustible Paris mountains, in the vicinity of Holyhead. The point on which we were standing did not exceed a square of five yards, and we sickened almost at the sight of the steep precipices which environed us; round it is a small parapet, formed by the customary tribute of all strangers, who visit this summit, and to which we likewise contributed, by placing a large stone on its top; this parapet, indeed, sheltered us from the chilly cold, and protected us from the piercing wind, which this height must naturally be exposed to.
We remained in this situation for a considerable time, and endeavoured, without success, to enumerate the several lakes, forests, woods, and counties, which were exposed to us in one view; but lost and confounded with the innumerable objects worthy of admiration, and regardless of the chilling cold, we took a distinct survey of the Isle of Man, together with a faint prospect of the Highlands in Ireland, which appeared just visibly skirting the distant horizon; but another object soon engrossed all our attention:
“The wide, the unbounded prospect lay before us;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it:”
For we unexpectedly observed long billows of vapour tossing about, half way down the mountain, totally excluding the country below, and occasionally dispersing, and partially revealing, its features; while above, the azure expanse of the heavens remained unobscured by the thinnest mist. This, however, was of no long continuance: a thick cloud presently wet us through; and the point on which we were standing could alone be distinguished. As there appeared little or no chance of the clouds dispersing, we soon commenced our descent. Respecting this Alpine excursion, suffice it to say, that though our expectations were raised exceedingly high, it infinitely surpassed all conception, and baffled all description; for no colour of language can paint the grandeur of the rising sun, observed from this eminence, or describe the lakes, woods, and forests, which are extended before you; for description, though it enumerates their names, yet it cannot draw the elegance of outline, cannot give the effect of precipices, or delineate the minute features, which reward the actual observer, at every new choice of his position; and, by changing their colour and form in his gradual ascent, till at last every object dwindles into atoms: in short, this interesting excursion, which comprehends every thing that is awful, grand, and sublime, producing the most pleasing sensations, has left traces in the memory which the imagination will ever hold dear.
The view from the summit of Snowdon is thus described by the author of the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature.
“After climbing over masses of crags and rocks, we ascended the peak of Snowdon, the height of which is 3571 feet above the level of the Irish Sea. Arrived at its summit, a scene presented itself, magnificent beyond the powers of language! Indeed language is indigent and impotent, when it would presume to sketch scenes, on which the Great Eternal has placed his matchless finger with delight. Faint are thy broad and deep delineations, immortal Salvator Rosa! Powerless and feeble are your inspirations, Genius of Thomson, Virgil, and Lucretius!
“From this point are seen more than five and twenty lakes. Seated on one of the crags, it was long before the eye, unaccustomed to measure such elevations, could accommodate itself to scenes so admirable:—the whole appearing, as if there had been a war of the elements; and as if we were the only inhabitants of the globe, permitted to contemplate the ruins of the world. Rocks and mountains, which, when observed from below, bear all the evidences of sublimity, when viewed from the summit of Snowdon, are blended with others as dark, as rugged, and as elevated as themselves; the whole resembling the swellings of an agitated ocean.
“The extent of this prospect appears almost unlimited. The four kingdoms are seen at once: Wales, England, Scotland, and Ireland! forming the finest panorama the empire can boast. The circle begins with the mountains of Cumberland and Westmoreland; those of Ingleborough and Penygent, in the county of York, and the hills of Lancashire forefollow: then are observed the counties of Chester, Flint, Denbigh, and a portion of Montgomeryshire. Nearly the whole of Merioneth succeeds; and drawing a line with the eye along the diameter of the circle, we take in the regions, stretching from the triple crown of Cader Idris to the sterile crags of Carnedds David, and Llewelyn. Snowdon rising in the centre appears, as if he could touch the south with his right hand, and the north with his left. ‘Surely,’ thought Colonna, ‘Cæsar sat upon these crags, when he formed the daring conception of governing the world!’
“From Cader Idris, the eye, pursuing the orbit of the bold geographical outline, glances over the bay of Cardigan, and reposes for a while on the summit of the Rivel. After observing the indented shores of Caernarvonshire, it travels over a long line of ocean, till, in the extremity of the horizon, the blue mountains of Wicklow terminate the perspective. Those mountains gradually sink along the coast, till they are lost to the eye; which ranging along the expanse, at length, as weary of the journey, repose on the Island of Man, and the distant mountains of Scotland. The intermediate space is occupied by the sides and summits of mountains, hollow crags, masses of rocks, the towers of Caernarvon, the fields of Anglesea, with woods, lakes, and glens, scattered in magnificent confusion. A scene like this commands our feelings to echo, as it were, in unison to its grandeur and sublimity: the thrill of astonishment and the transport of admiration seem to contend for the mastery; and nerves are touched, that never thrilled before. We seem as if our former existence were annihilated; and as if a new epoch were commenced. Another world opens upon us; and an unlimited orbit appears to display itself, as a theatre for our ambition.”
The first two miles of our descent we by no means found difficult, but wishing to take a minute survey of the picturesque Pass of Llanberris, we changed the route generally prescribed to strangers, and descended a rugged and almost perpendicular path, in opposition to the proposals of our guide, who strenuously endeavoured to dissuade us from the attempt; alleging the difficulty of the steep, and relating a melancholy story of a gentleman, who many years back had broken his leg. This had no effect: we determined to proceed; and the vale of Llanberris amply rewarded us for the trouble.
Mr. Williams of Llandigai, in his observations on the Snowdon mountains (which, from his having been a resident on the spot, may be considered as entitled to the greatest credit,) makes the following remarks on the probable derivation of their names, and the customs and manners of their inhabitants.
“It would be endless to point out the absurd conjectures and misrepresentations of those who have of late years undertaken to describe this country. Some give manifestly wrong interpretations of the names of places, and others, either ignorantly or maliciously, have as it were caricatured its inhabitants. Travellers from England, often from want of candour, and always from defect of necessary knowledge, impose upon the world unfavourable as well as false accounts of their fellow-subjects in Wales; yet the candour of the Welsh is such, that they readily ascribe such misrepresentations to an ignorance of their language, and a misconception of the honest, though perhaps warm temper of those that speak it. And it may be, travellers are too apt to abuse the Welsh, because they cannot or will not speak English. Their ignorance ought not to incur disgust: their reluctance proceeds not from stubbornness, but from diffidence, and the fear of ridicule.