As soon as I was shown into the parlour I summoned the "boots," and on his making his appearance I said in a stern voice: "My boots want soling; let them be done by to-morrow morning."
"Can"t be, sir; it"s now Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and the shoemaker couldn"t begin them to-night!"
"But you must make him!" said I; "and look here, I shall give him a shilling extra, and you an extra shilling for seeing after him."
"Yes, sir; I"ll see after him-they shall be done, sir. Bring you your slippers instantly. Glad to see you again in Swansea, sir, looking so well."
CHAPTER CI
Swansea-The Flemings-Towards England.
Swansea is called by the Welsh Abertawe, which signifies the mouth of the Tawy. Aber, as I have more than once had occasion to observe, signifies the place where a river enters into the sea or joins another. It is a Gaelic as well as a c.u.mric word, being found in the Gaelic names Aberdeen and Lochaber, and there is good reason for supposing that the word harbour is derived from it. Swansea or Swansey is a compound word of Scandinavian origin, which may mean either a river abounding with swans, or the river of Swanr, the name of some northern adventurer who settled down at its mouth. The final ea or ey is the Norwegian aa, which signifies a running water; it is of frequent occurrence in the names of rivers in Norway, and is often found, similarly modified, in those of other countries where the adventurous Norwegians formed settlements.
Swansea first became a place of some importance shortly after the beginning of the twelfth century. In the year 1108 the greater part of Flanders having been submerged by the sea {579} an immense number of Flemings came over to England, and entreated of Henry the First, the king then occupying the throne, that he would allot to them lands in which they might settle. The king sent them to various parts of Wales which had been conquered by his barons or those of his predecessors: a considerable number occupied Swansea and the neighbourhood; but far the greater part went to Dyfed, generally but improperly called Pembroke, the south-eastern part of which, by far the most fertile, they entirely took possession of, leaving to the Welsh the rest, which is very mountainous and barren.
I have already said that the people of Swansea stand out in broad distinctness from the c.u.mry, differing from them in stature, language, dress, and manners, and wish to observe that the same thing may be said of the inhabitants of every part of Wales which the Flemings colonised in any considerable numbers.
I found the accommodation very good at the "Mackworth Arms;" I pa.s.sed the Sat.u.r.day evening very agreeably, and slept well throughout the night.
The next morning to my great joy I found my boots, capitally repaired, awaiting me before my chamber door.
O the mighty effect of a little money! After breakfast I put them on, and as it was Sunday went out in order to go to church. The streets were thronged with people; a new mayor had just been elected, and his worship, attended by a number of halbert and javelin men, was going to church too.
I followed the procession, which moved with great dignity and of course very slowly. The church had a high square tower and looked a very fine edifice on the outside and no less so within, for the nave was lofty with n.o.ble pillars on each side. I stood during the whole of the service as did many others, for the congregation was so great that it was impossible to accommodate all with seats. The ritual was performed in a very satisfactory manner and was followed by an excellent sermon. I am ashamed to say that I have forgot the text, but I remember a good deal of the discourse. The preacher said amongst other things that the Gospel was not preached in vain, and that he very much doubted whether a sermon was ever delivered which did not do some good. On the conclusion of the services I strolled about in order to see the town and what pertained to it. The town is of considerable size with some remarkable edifices, s.p.a.cious and convenient quays, and a commodious harbour into which the river Tawy flowing from the north empties itself. The town and harbour are overhung on the side of the east by a lofty green mountain with a Welsh name, no doubt exceedingly appropriate, but which I regret to say has escaped my memory.
After having seen all that I wished I returned to my inn and discharged all my obligations. I then departed, framing my course eastward towards England, having traversed Wales nearly from north to south.
CHAPTER CII
Leave Swansea-The Pandemonium-Neath Abbey-Varied Scenery.
It was about two o"clock of a dull and gloomy afternoon when I started from Abertawy or Swansea, intending to stop at Neath, some eight miles distant. As I pa.s.sed again through the suburbs I was struck with their length and the evidences of enterprise which they exhibited-enterprise, however, evidently chiefly connected with iron and coal, for almost every object looked awfully grimy. Crossing a bridge I proceeded to the east up a broad and s.p.a.cious valley, the eastern side of which was formed by russet-coloured hills, through a vista of which I could descry a range of tall blue mountains. As I proceeded I sometimes pa.s.sed pleasant groves and hedgerows, sometimes huge works; in this valley there was a singular mixture of nature and art, of the voices of birds and the clanking of chains, of the mists of heaven and the smoke of furnaces.
I reached Llan-, a small village half-way between Swansea and Neath, and without stopping continued my course, walking very fast. I had surmounted a hill and had nearly descended that side of it which looked towards the east, having on my left, that is to the north, a wooded height, when an extraordinary scene presented itself to my eyes.
Somewhat to the south rose immense stacks of chimneys surrounded by grimy diabolical-looking buildings, in the neighbourhood of which were huge heaps of cinders and black rubbish. From the chimneys, notwithstanding it was Sunday, smoke was proceeding in volumes, choking the atmosphere all around. From this pandemonium, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile to the southwest, upon a green meadow, stood, looking darkly grey, a ruin of vast size with window holes, towers, spires, and arches.
Between it and the accursed pandemonium, lay a horrid filthy place, part of which was swamp and part pool: the pool black as soot, and the swamp of a disgusting leaden colour. Across this place of filth stretched a tramway leading seemingly from the abominable mansions to the ruin. So strange a scene I had never beheld in nature. Had it been on canvas, with the addition of a number of diabolical figures, proceeding along the tramway, it might have stood for Sabbath in h.e.l.l-devils proceeding to afternoon worship, and would have formed a picture worthy of the powerful but insane painter Jerome Bos.
After standing for a considerable time staring at the strange spectacle I proceeded. Presently meeting a lad, I asked him what was the name of the ruin.
"The Abbey," he replied.
"Neath Abbey?" said I.
"Yes!"
Having often heard of this abbey, which in its day was one of the most famous in Wales, I determined to go and inspect it. It was with some difficulty that I found my way to it. It stood, as I have already observed, in a meadow, and was on almost every side surrounded by majestic hills. To give any clear description of this ruined pile would be impossible, the dilapidation is so great, dilapidation evidently less the effect of time than of awful violence, perhaps that of gunpowder.
The southern is by far the most perfect portion of the building; there you see not only walls but roofs. Fronting you full south, is a ma.s.s of masonry with two immense arches, other arches behind them: entering, you find yourself beneath a vaulted roof, and pa.s.sing on you come to an oblong square which may have been a church; an iron-barred window on your right enables you to look into a mighty vault, the roof of which is supported by beautiful pillars. Then but I forbear to say more respecting these remains for fear of stating what is incorrect, my stay amongst them having been exceedingly short.
The Abbey of Glen Neath was founded in the twelfth century by Richard Grenfield, one of the followers of Robert Fitzhamon, who subjugated Glamorgan. Neath Abbey was a very wealthy one, the founder having endowed it with extensive tracts of fertile land along the banks of the rivers Neath and Tawy. In it the unfortunate Edward of Carnarvon sought a refuge for a few days from the rage of his revolted barons, whilst his favourite the equally unfortunate Spencer endeavoured to find a covert amidst the thickets of the wood-covered hill to the north. When Richmond landed at Milford Haven to dispute the crown with Richard the Second, the then Abbot of Neath repaired to him and gave him his benediction, in requital for which the adventurer gave him his promise that in the event of his obtaining the crown he would found a college in Glen Neath, which promise, however, after he had won the crown, he forgot to perform. {583} The wily abbot, when he hastened to pay worship to what he justly conceived to be the rising sun, little dreamt that he was about to bless the future father of the terrible man doomed by Providence to plant the abomination of desolation in Neath Abbey and in all the other nests of monkery throughout the land.
Leaving the ruins I proceeded towards Neath. The scenery soon became very beautiful; not that I had left machinery altogether behind, for I presently came to a place where huge wheels were turning and there was smoke and blast, but there was much that was rural and beautiful to be seen, something like park scenery, and then there were the mountains near and in the distance. I reached Neath at about half-past four, and took up my quarters at an inn which had been recommended to me by my friend the boots at Swansea.
CHAPTER CIII
Town of Neath-Hounds and Huntsman-Spectral Chapel-The Glowing Mountain.
Neath is a place of some antiquity, for it can boast of the remains of a castle and is a corporate town. There is but little Welsh spoken in it.
It is situated on the Neath, and exports vast quant.i.ties of coal and iron, of both of which there are rich mines in the neighbourhood. It derives its name from the river Nedd or Neth on which it stands. Nedd or Neth is the same word as Nith the name of a river in Scotland, and is in some degree connected with Nidda the name of one in Germany. Nedd in Welsh signifies a dingle, and the word in its various forms has always something to do with lowness or inferiority of position. Amongst its forms are Nether and Nieder. The term is well applied to the Glamorganshire river, which runs through dingles and under mountains.
The Neath has its source in the mountains of Brecon, and enters the sea some little way below the town of Neath.
On the Monday morning I resumed my journey, directing my course up the vale of Neath towards Merthyr Tydvil, distant about four-and-twenty miles. The weather was at first rainy, misty, and miserable, but improved by degrees. I pa.s.sed through a village which I was told was called Llanagos; close to it were immense establishments of some kind.
The scenery soon became exceedingly beautiful; hills covered with wood to the tops were on either side of the dale. I pa.s.sed an avenue leading somewhere through groves, and was presently overtaken and pa.s.sed by hounds and a respectable-looking old huntsman on a black horse; a minute afterwards I caught a glimpse of an old redbrick mansion nearly embosomed in groves, from which proceeded a mighty cawing. Probably it belonged to the proprietor of the dogs, and certainly looked a very fit mansion for a Glamorganshire squire, justice of the peace, and keeper of a pack of hounds.
I went on, the vale increasing in beauty; there was a considerable drawback, however: one of those detestable contrivances a railroad was on the farther side-along which trains were pa.s.sing, rumbling and screaming.
I saw a bridge on my right hand with five or six low arches over the river, which was here full of shoals. Asked a woman the name of the bridge.
"_Pont Fawr_ ei galw, sir."
I was again amongst the real Welsh-this woman had no English.
I pa.s.sed by several remarkable mountains, both on the south and northern side of the vale. Late in the afternoon I came to the eastern extremity of the vale and ascended a height. Shortly afterwards I reached Rhigos, a small village.
Entering a public-house I called for ale and sat down amidst some grimy fellows, who said nothing to me and to whom I said nothing-their discourse was in Welsh and English. Of their Welsh I understood but little, for it was a strange corrupt jargon. In about half-an-hour after leaving this place I came to the beginning of a vast moor. It was now growing rather dusk and I could see blazes here and there; occasionally I heard horrid sounds. Came to Irvan, an enormous mining-place with a spectral-looking chapel, doubtless a Methodist one. The street was crowded with rough savage-looking men. "Is this the way to Merthyr Tydvil?" said I to one.
"Yes!" bawled the fellow at the utmost stretch of his voice.
"Thank you!" said I, taking off my hat and pa.s.sing on.
Forward I went, up hill and down dale. Night now set in. I pa.s.sed a grove of trees and presently came to a collection of small houses at the bottom of a little hollow. Hearing a step near me I stopped and said in Welsh: "How far to Merthyr Tydvil?"
"Dim c.u.mrag, sir!" said a voice, seemingly that of a man.
"Good-night!" said I, and without staying to put the question in English, I pushed on up an ascent and was presently amongst trees. Heard for a long time the hooting of an owl or rather the frantic hollo. Appeared to pa.s.s by where the bird had its station. Toiled up an acclivity and when on the top stood still and looked around me. There was a glow on all sides in the heaven except in the north-east quarter. Striding on I saw a cottage on my left-hand, and standing at the door the figure of a woman. "How far to Merthyr?" said I in Welsh.
"Tair milltir-three miles, sir."
Turning round a corner at the top of a hill I saw blazes here and there and what appeared to be a glowing mountain in the south-east. I went towards it down a descent which continued for a long, long way; so great was the light cast by the blazes and that wonderful glowing object that I could distinctly see the little stones upon the road. After walking about half-an-hour, always going downwards, I saw a house on my left hand and heard a noise of water opposite to it. It was a pistyll. I went to it, drank greedily, and then hurried on, more and more blazes and the glowing object looking more terrible than ever. It was now above me at some distance to the left, and I could see that it was an immense quant.i.ty of heated matter like lava, occupying the upper and middle parts of a hill and descending here and there almost to the bottom in a zigzag and tortuous manner. Between me and the hill of the burning object lay a deep ravine. After a time I came to a house, against the door of which a man was leaning.