HARLECH,
is stony and uninteresting; to the left an unbounded view of the wide ocean, and in front, the steep mountains of North Wales rose in endless perspective. About four miles from Barmouth, we passed the two lodges at Tal-y-bont, leading to Cors-y-gedol, the seat of Sir Thomas Mostyn. It is practicable to go by the sands, but we were given to understand, by Mrs. Lewis, that the turnpike was, if any thing, shorter, the scenery more pleasing, and the guides necessary for crossing those dangerous sands, in general, most complete villains.
Harlech, though formed by Edward I. into a borough, can now be esteemed little more than a dirty village: the present castle, one of the most entire in Wales, is founded on a very high rock, projecting in the Irish Sea, and defended by a deep foss on the east side; below it is a marsh of considerable extent, occasionally overflowed by the sea; from the top of the walls to this marsh the height is very considerable, and from thence the Bay of Cardigan is seen to great advantage; in addition to this, the shagged summits of Cader Buchan and Snowdon, in Caernarvonshire, being enveloped in clouds, appear scarcely visible.
At the public-house, we accidentally met with a well-informed man, who minutely delineated every part of the castle; beginning with the founder, in the true characteristic style of a Welchman, run through his pedigree several generations: this, however, did not interest us, cursory pedestrians; and with little persuasion we soon induced him to write down, in as concise a manner as possible, any information he was acquainted with respecting the castle: “The founder of Harlech Castle, A.D. 552, was Maclegwynn; Gwynead made Caer Dugoll (Shrewsbury;) Caer Gyffin (Aber Conway;) Caer Gollwyn (Harleck) supposed to be buried in Cirester, and reigned thirty-four years.” Whether this information is correct, I will not take upon me to assert; but meeting with a Welchman, in this part of the country, capable of writing, rather surprised us, and induced me to transcribe this short paragraph.
The double gate-way, with four strong towers, is still very perfect; and the whole in sufficient repair, to form a conjecture of its ancient extent and grandeur. It was originally supposed to have been a Roman town, a conjecture founded on the great number of coins, and other pieces of antiquity, which have been found here, and in the neighbourhood.
In 1408 it was taken by the Earl of Pembroke; and afforded likewise shelter to Margaret of Anjour, after the battle of Northampton, 1460, and was the last in North-Wales, which held out for the King, being surrendered to General Mytton, 1647.
In a garden near this castle was dug up, in the year 1692, an ancient golden torques, of a round form, an inch in circumference, and weighing eight ounces. This curious relick of British antiquity, exhibited in a drawing by Mr. Pennant, still continues in the possession of the Mostyn family. As we had not an opportunity of examining the original, this account can only be gathered from the information of former authors, who represent it, as “a wreathed bar, or rather three or four rods twisted together, about four feet long, flexible, but bending naturally only one way, in form of a hat-band: it originally had holes at each end, not twitted or sharp, but plain, and cut even.”
In 1694, the prodigious phenomenon of fire, or kindled exhalation, which disturbed the inhabitants of this neighbourhood, is both singular and extraordinary; sixteen ricks of hay, and two barns, were burnt by a kindled exhalation, or blue weak flame, proceeding from the sea: this lasted about a fortnight or three weeks, poisoning the grass, and firing it for the space of a mile. It is extraordinary, that it had no effect on the men, who interposed their endeavours to save the ricks from destruction, even by running into it. For a more accurate account of this singular phenomenon, I refer my readers to the Philosophical Transactions, No. 208, and likewise to the Addenda, in Cambden: suffice it to say, that the air and grass was so infected, that it occasioned a great mortality of cattle, horses, sheep, and goats. The various conjectures that have been formed, to account for this kindled exhalation, seem to be very unsatisfactory; something similar to this, both in the appearance and in the effect, happened in France in the year 1734.
As, from the unfavourableness of the weather, we had not contemplated the rich scenery between Barmouth and Dolgelly, with that nice investigation which it deserved, we determined, by again returning to our obliging landlady at the Cors-y-gedol Arms, to seize the opportunity of again admiring its beauties; and, by taking a more circuitous route to the Vale of Festiniog, pay that attention to the Falls of Doll-y-mullin, Moddach, and Caen, which they so deservedly require.
This second saunter we found by no means tedious: the scene seemed perpetually changing at every unexpected curvature of the road; and the rude features of the mountains appeared to assume new forms, as the winding presented them to the eye in different attitudes, whilst the shifting vapours, which partially concealed their minuter grandeur, assisted the illusions of the sight. Amidst new woods, rising in the majesty of foliage, the scattered cottage, with its bluish smoke curling high in the air, was frequently rendered interesting by its neat simplicity: and served to constitute the romantic beauties of this picturesque saunter.