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, reposes 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 Llandegai, 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.
“NATIVES OF ERYRI.
“The inhabitants of the British mountains are so humane and hospitable, that a stranger may travel amongst them without incurring any expense for diet or lodging. Their fare an Englishman may call coarse; however, they commonly in farm-houses have three sorts of bread, namely, wheat, barley, and oatmeal; but the oatmeal they chiefly use; this, with milk, butter, cheese, and potatoes, is their chief summer food. They have also plenty of excellent trout, which they eat in its season. And for the winter they have dry salted beef, mutton, and smoked rock venison, which they call Côch ar Wyden, i.e. The Red upon the Withe, being hung by a withe, made of a willow or hazel twig. They very seldom brew ale, except in some of the principal farm-houses: having no corn of their own growing, they think it a superfluous expense to throw away money for malt and hops, when milk, or butter-milk mixed with water, quenches the thirst as well.
“They are hardy and very active; but they have not the perseverance and resolution which are necessary for laborious or continued undertakings, being, from their infancy, accustomed only to ramble over the hills after their cattle. In summer they go barefoot, but seldom barelegged, as has been lately asserted by a traveller. They are shrewd and crafty in their bargains, and jocular in their conversation; very sober, and great economists; though a late tourist has given them a different character. Their greetings, when they meet any one of their acquaintance, may to some appear tedious and disagreeable: their common mode of salutation is ‘How is thy heart? how the good wife at home, the children, and the rest of the family?’ and that often repeated. When they meet at a public-house, they will drink each other’s health, or the health of him to whom the mug goes at every round. They are remarkably honest.
“Their courtships, marriages, &c. differ in nothing from what is practised on these occasions among the lowlanders or other Welsh people; but as there are some distinct and local customs in use in North Wales, not adopted in other parts of Great Britain, I shall, by way of novelty, relate a few of them:—When Cupid lets fly his shaft at a youthful heart, the wounded swain seeks for an opportunity to have a private conversation with the object of his passion, which is usually obtained at a fair, or at some other public meeting; where he, if bold enough, accosts her, and treats her with wine and cakes. But he that is too bashful will employ a friend to break the ice for him, and disclose the sentiments of his heart: the fair one, however, disdains proxies of this kind, and he that is bold, forward, and facetious, has a greater chance of prevailing, especially if he has courage enough to steal a few kisses: she will then probably engage to accept of his nocturnal visit the next Saturday night. When the happy hour arrives, neither the darkness of the night, the badness of the weather, nor the distance of the place, will discourage him, so as to abandon his engagement. When he reaches the spot, he conceals himself in some out-building, till the family go to rest. His fair friend alone knows of and awaits his coming. After admittance into the house a little chat takes place at the fire-side, and then, if every thing is friendly, they agree to throw themselves on a bed, if there is an empty one in the house; when Strephon takes off his shoes and coat, and Phillis only her shoes; and covering themselves with a blanket or two, they chat there till the morning dawn, and then the lover steals away as privately as he came. And this is the bundling or courting in bed, [181] for which the Welsh are so much bantered by strangers.