It may reasonably be supposed, that the indecent customs of the Welch operate against the observance of chastity: yet seeing that the Welch are by no means deficient in that excellence, it may be supposed that were such scenes less frequent they would be so; but, as they are continually recurring, the imagination has no time to effervesce; it is at once saturated with naked facts, and on that principle the ebullitions of passion are kept under. On the one hand, those strong bulwarks decency and delicacy are done away; but on the other, the mind, fully informed, is not irritated by the conjurations of fancy; which may be a pretty fair set-off. Yet, without doubt, their strongest safeguard exists in the considerative defence; for the moral turpitude and political infamy of unchastity is recognized in Wales to an extent that can hardly be conceived in circles of modern refinement: even at this day, in districts not yet drawn within the imposing vortex of trade, [140] a golden age of innocence may be discovered, where bastardy is unknown, or known but in recorded instances, in which the man is properly consigned to equal disgrace with the female offender.
Our travelling continued in rocky tracks, at the rate of a mile an hour, until we recovered the Llandilo road; from which we soon turned off, on the right, to visit Glenheir waterfall, in the grounds of Mr. Dubaison, about five miles south of Llandilo. At this place the Loughor river pursues its course between steep banks clothed with various trees and shrubs. On one of the descents a walk is traced, with some ingenuity, in front of a small picturesque cascade formed by a tributary stream to the Loughor. This might be mistaken for the object sought; but, crossing a rustic bridge, the eye on a sudden encounters the whole river rushing beneath a portal of trees, and throwing itself over a ledge of black rock in a single fall of eighteen feet. The effect of the whole, seen through the gloom of pendent trees, is undoubtedly striking; though, it must be confessed, the sheet of water presenting the formality of an unbroken square is somewhat unpicturesque. The person who attended us pointed out the effects of the torrent at fifteen feet above its surface, to which height it was swelled in the morning by the late storm; a greater rise than was ever known before: the cataract then exhibited a scene more tremendously grand than imagination can picture, or words describe; yet some idea may be formed in conceiving so vast a bulk of water, bursting over the precipice, stunning with its roar, and filling the atmosphere with its spray; while up-rooted trees, the shattered fragments of buildings, and other ruins, swept headlong on by the irresistible torrent, would illustrate its terrors, and complete a spectacle great indeed! Yet, alas, at how high a purchase, appeared from the lamentations of the neighbourhood! Nor were we without a share in the general calamity; for, crossing the Loughor at a ford about two miles further, my poney on a sudden slipped out of his depth, and we had separately to swim for our lives to the opposite bank. This disagreeable business was much aggravated; for my books, papers, and some other articles which I carried in a leather-case behind the saddle, were completely soaked, and several drawings utterly spoiled. My companion, having a taller horse, escaped, with only his boots full of water. Here it may not be amiss to apprize the traveller through Wales, that these fords (frequently occurring) are not unattended with danger after great falls of rain: at such times, a careful enquiry should be made of the people near them: a precaution that would have saved us our ducking; for it afterwards appeared, that no other travellers had crossed the ford during the day, but avoided it by taking a circuitous route.
In this plight we jogged on upwards of eight miles, with the unwelcome gloom of the Black Mountains on our left, and a pleasant diversified country on our right, to the village of Pont-ar-dulas, but which we did not reach before evening. The comfortable inn at this place afforded us a change of apparel and good cheer, that soon dissipated the inconveniences of our journey. On the following morning we rose early, and then found the place to possess many traits of picturesque attraction, being seated near a rapid river, and agreeably interspersed with woods. Thence we had a pleasant ride to Swansea; where we rejoined a party of our friends at breakfast, after a fortnight’s excursion.
During our stay in this town, protracted to several days by its agreeable society, Mrs. Hatton, mistress of the bathing-house, and sister of the English Melpomene, exhibited her theatric powers on the humble boards of Swansea theatre. But, labouring under the misfortune of lameness, and the encumbrance of more human flesh than I ever before saw crowded in one female figure, she was obliged to go through her task, the recitation of Alexander’s Feast, sitting: notwithstanding which weighty drawback, the lady did not fail to exhibit a vivid tincture of the family genius. Here too we were gratified with the news of an event, before whose solid advantages the victories of a century sink, in a rational estimate, like glittering tinsel before massive ingots. I was awakened at an early hour by the loud huzzas of the towns-people, and the frequent discharge of cannon from vessels in the harbour. The ships displayed their gayest colours; and the people, in dancing through the streets, congratulated each other on the long wished-for blessing of Peace! The chagrin of two or three provision-monopolizers, and a few others whose interest was in opposition to the public weal, with the old subterfuge that it was not the proper time for peace, covering a real sentiment of endless war, passed unnoticed, nor formed a perceptible speck on the brilliancy of the people’s joy!
CHAP. X.
NEATH ABBEY, TOWN, AND CASTLE—THE KNOLL—BRITON FERRY—FUNEREAL RITES—ABERAVON—MARGAM—ABBEY RUIN—PILE.
Our tour now took an eastward direction. Crossing Swansea river by an exceeding good ferry, and passing a region of furnaces, we traversed a considerable hill to the neighbouring valley of Neath; a spot that might be deemed pleasing, were it not overhung with the smoke of numerous manufactories, and its soil blackened with coal-works and rail-ways. [145] Neath abbey is a short distance west of the town, and its remains are extensive. Besides the abbey church, the walls of the offices and other apartments are yet standing; but, undecorated with verdure, and partaking of the sable hue that impinges on every object around, it fails to create an idea of beauty or grandeur. As we were exploring the dark recesses of the ruin, a number of haggard forms on a sudden darted from various apertures, and eagerly pressed toward us. Their wan countenances, half hidden by black matted hair, bore the strongest expression of misery; which was further heightened by a scanty ragged apparel, that scarcely covered their meagre limbs: upon their whole appearance one might have asked with Banquo,—
“What are these,
So wither’d, and so wild in their attire,
That look not like th’ inhabitants o’the earth,
And yet are on’t?—You should be women;
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.”—
The poor creatures were the wives of miners, and women that worked in the manufactories, who burrowed and brought up their families in the cells of the ruin. Unceasing drudgery, however, was unable to obtain them the necessaries of life; much less a taste of those comforts, to which the exertion of useful labour might seem to have a just claim. An old woman, bent nearly double with years,