The town walls are still perfect, and interesting to the antiquary. A handsome assembly room has been fitted up within the towers of the principal gate, at the expense of Sir Watkyn W. Wynne, Bart. An elegant chapel of ease occupies the northern angle of the walls, and includes one of the large rounders; and a beautiful barbacan, in advance of the water-gate, is in the most entire preservation. Caernarvon is situated in the parish of Llanbeblig, and the parish church, an ancient edifice, dedicated to Saint Publicius, stands at the distance of about one mile from the castle.
SNOWDON, FROM CAPEL CURIG.
The Cairn, or Carnedd, on the summit of Snowdon is elevated three thousand seven hundred and fifty-nine feet above the level of the sea. This is the highest of the north Cambrian chain, and still supposed to be the loftiest hill in Great Britain. It raises its grand pinnacle above an extensive mountain range, constituting the ancient forest of Snowdonia, which was felled by the Saxon monarchs to build their navy. And, though not a tree or stem adorns its scathed brow, yet so lately as the reign of Henry the Eighth, the civil list contained this item, “Annual Fee of the Chief Forester of Snowdon, 11l. 8s.” a sum by no means inconsiderable at the period alluded to.
The great mountain region, of which Snowdon constitutes the leading feature, and to which it lends its Saxon epithet of Snowy, originates northward in the Penmaenmawr, and spreading over great part of Caernarvonshire, returns again and dips into the sea in the Reifels, three beautiful conical mountains overhanging the bay of Caernarvon. These hills bound a prospect from the centre of Anglesea, picturesque, sublime, and graceful, but, like many scenes in human life, upon a nearer approach, are comfortless, forlorn, and desolate. The ambition of most tourists is to attain the dizzy height of Snowdon, and, although the approaches are numerous, none are free from difficulty, and some even attended with danger. From the melancholy vale of Llanberis the height is greater in proportion as the surface of the vale is depressed. The access from Llyn Cwellyn is less difficult, but more tedious than others. The charms of Beddgelert compensate for the remoteness of the goal, while the elevation of Capel Curig is to be subtracted from the whole absolute height, leaving the inquisitive tourist a large balance of perpendicular ascent in his favour. Snowdon from Capel Curig presents a grand spectacle; the vale in the foreground watered by two fine pools, and on each side skreens are formed of huge dark mountains, enclosing a great vista, leading the eye directly up against the shattered front of Snowdon. As the point of view approaches, the aerial complexion of the great pinnacled mass is lost, and new features, new wonders, are successively displayed. Illusions here are ever varying. The transient circumstances of a thunder cloud,—the streaming of a sunbeam, casting partial gleams upon the precipices,—the dark shadows that follow and figure out unforeseen inequalities,—then sweeping over the mountain’s brow, involving all in momentary obscurity,—and, lastly, resigning all to the full possession of the solar beams, all contribute in a most happy manner to augment the astonishment and gratification of the spectator.
The view from the summit is inexpressibly grand, although much impeded by the elevation and proximity of other mountains, Carneddau David and Llewellyn particularly,—the former being three thousand four hundred and twenty-seven feet above the sea, the latter three thousand four hundred and sixty-nine. It however commands an extensive prospect towards South Wales and the sea, and displays a wonderful chart of all North Wales to the spectator. The view at first is incomplete and scarce intelligible, but gradually distinct and separate hills unfold themselves; the broken, abrupt, and intersecting outlines seem now and then to retire, as if by some supreme and invisible working, and permit an oblique glimpse into a deep vale below. Frequently a gigantic mass just shows itself by a distant partial gleam, and after awakening the highest expectation, leaves the fancy “to paint the forms of things unseen.” The shape or form of Snowdon is uncommon and picturesque. Its ground plan or base, if such terms be applicable or just, is cruciformed, each arm supporting a great mural precipice, along the ridges of which lie the perilous pathways to the highest point, and in the intervening angles sleep dark, cold pools. The summit ridge, when seen from a distance, appears of a triple-headed form, like the impression of a vast festoon of clouds just dropped upon it. The points or ridges are usually called Wyddffa, Crib y-Distyll and Crib-Coch, or the red ridge. The passage of the last is hazardous, from the shortness and slippery quality of the grass at those seasons of the year when the mountain may be approached. It is from this causeway that two stones thrown from the same spot, one to either side, and with a moderate force, will reach, it is said, an interval of three thousand feet asunder at the period of their rest from falling.
BANGOR CATHEDRAL.
The city of Bangor is one of the most prosperous and improving seaports on the Welsh coast. Its position, at the embouchure of the Cegin river and entrance of the Mænai strait, has given it a natural commercial superiority, an advantage spiritedly and wisely improved by the principal proprietor in the vicinity. The city occupies a narrow piece of ground, bounded on the east by a precipitous hill, and on the west by the bishop’s lands and the Mænai strait. Extension is inconvenient, from the necessity of lengthening the main avenue, already one mile long, whenever additional houses in a proper thoroughfare are required. Handsome assembly-rooms are constructed over the market hall: convenient lodging houses are erected in the lower part of the city, and many elegant villas in the immediate neighbourhood; besides which, the numerous visiters who frequent this agreeable spot, either for the benefit of sea bathing, the bracing influence of a mountain breeze, or the gratification of examining the noble design of the Mænai Bridge, have further accommodation afforded them at the spacious and elegant inns provided for their reception. H. D. Pennant, Esq. the heir and representative of the noble house of Penrhyn, is the chief proprietor and munificent patron of this place. To him, and to his amiable predecessor, Lady Penrhyn, this neighbourhood is indebted for the stability of its trade, as well as for the rapidity of its growth. The slate quarries of Dolawen, whence the Bangor slates, as they are generally called, are brought, are about seven miles distant from the sea-side. Here from fifteen hundred to two thousand hands are constantly engaged in quarrying metal, and fashioning it into slates. In the process of manufacturing the aid of machinery is embraced, and the powerful press of Bramah is used for crushing and splitting the metal. When formed into the classes or sizes designated by the fanciful distinctions of Queens, Duchesses, Countesses, and Ladies, they are transported by a rail-road of seven miles in length, (one of the earliest introduced into Wales,) to the quay of Port Penrhyn, the termination and consummation of the great and enterprising scheme, accomplished at individual risk and expense, to promote the conveyance of the Bangor slates to all the markets of Europe and America. Whatever modern importance Bangor possesses is attributable to the successful conduct of these quarries, and its commercial value will always be found to rise and fall with the prosperity of this trade alone.
Immediately adjoining the north-eastern extremity of the principal street, the noble demesne of Mr. Pennant originates, and spreads over a wooded surface of considerable area. His castle occupies the site of a palace, erected in the year 720, by Roderic Moelwynog, the last British Prince of Wales, who flourished in the eighth century. The ancient palace was destroyed by Meredydd ap Owain in the year 728, and not rebuilt until some time in the reign of Henry the Sixth, when Gwillim ap Gryffydd raised a stately castle here. This last building endured for many years, and was ultimately subjected to renovation by the hand of a Wyatt; but even this judicious restoration was unable to render it suitable to the rapidly accumulating wealth which the hills of Dolawen poured out upon the board of their fortunate possessor. From a noble design of Mr. Hopper, in a bold and pure Saxon style, a castle has been erected on the ancient site. The style is uncommon, rarely introduced in domestic architecture, and applicable only where the scale is great and the means ample. In this instance the materials, a beautiful dark marble, contribute much to increase the dignity and grandeur of the design, upon which probably one hundred thousand pounds have already been expended. A fine specimen of the Hirlâs, or ancient British drinking horn, bearing the initials of Piers Gryfydd, graven upon the silver mounting, is preserved in the castle of Penrhyn. The castle of Bangor is not to be confounded with that of Penrhyn just described. It was founded some time in the reign of William Rufus, by Hugh, Earl of Chester, but, little of its history survives, and even the ground plan now is with difficulty traced.
The process of quarrying, dressing, and preparing slates for public market, and the fanciful titles by which the various sizes are now uniformly designated, are very happily, playfully, and truly described in the following irregular verses. They are the production of the late Mr. Leycester, who was for many years a judge on the North Wales circuit, while the old system of judicature was tolerated.
It has truly been said, as we all must deplore,
That Grenville and Pitt made peers by the score;
But now ’tis asserted, unless I have blundered,
There’s a man who makes peeresses here by the hundred;
He regards neither Grenville, nor Portland, nor Pitt,
But creates them at once without patent or writ.
By the stroke of the hammer, without the king’s aid,
A Lady, or Countess, or Duchess is made.
Yet high is the station from which they are sent,
And all their great titles are got by descent;
And when they are seen in a palace or shop,
Their rank they preserve, and are still at the top.
Yet no merit they claim from their birth or connexion,
But derive their chief worth from their native complexion.
And all the best judges prefer, it is said,
A Countess in blue to a Duchess in red.
This Countess or Lady, though crowds may be present,
Submits to be dress’d by the hands of a peasant;
And you’ll see, when her Grace is but once in his clutches,
With how little respect he will handle a Duchess.
Close united they seem, and yet all who have tried them,
Soon discover how easy it is to divide them.
No spirit have they, they are thin as a lath,
The Countess wants life and the Duchess is flat.
No passion or warmth to the Countess is known,
And her Grace is as cold and as hard as a stone;
And I fear you will find, if you watch them a little,
That the Countess is frail, and the Duchess is brittle;
Too high for a trade, without any joke,
Though they never are bankrupts, they often are broke.
And though not a soul either pilfers or cozens,
They are daily shipped off and transported by dozens.In France, jacobinical France, we have seen
How thousands have bled by the fierce guillotine;
But what’s the French engine of death to compare
To the engine which Greenfield and Bramah prepare,
That democrat engine, by which we all know
Ten thousand great Duchesses fall at a blow.And long may that engine its wonders display,
Long level with ease all the rocks in its way,
Till the vale of Nant Francon of slates is bereft,
Nor a Lady, nor Countess, nor Duchess be left.