CHAPTER IX. TRAVELLING REFLECTIONS, &c. If countries we compare, And estimate the blessings which they share, As different good, by art or nature given To different nations, makes their blesssings even. Goldsmith. AMONG the few real enjoyments of life, none, perhaps, surpass those open to the enlightened traveller in the absorbing interest of historical associations-in comparing the present with the past, and the progress of different people in the race of knowledge and consequent industry and prosperity. There is, indeed, one object in such a pursuit yet more laudable and ennobling, given only to minds like Howard's to appreciate,—the godlike pleasure of travelling, not to gratify his own tastes and feelings, but for the relief and happiness of his fellow-men. The mere knowledge, nevertheless, of the social condition of a nation at different periods,-considered with relation to modern discovery and improvement, and to the progress of its neighbours,— must always be productive of advantage; and in no way can this knowledge be so effectually acquired as by cultivating personal acquaintance with the distinctive features and characteristics of different people forming one great community, subject nearly to the same laws and government. And how diverse, in all leading points, the genius and temperament of the Scotch, the Irish, and the Welsh !—while all as strangely differ from the great nation with which they have gradually become incorporated. To estimate rightly the capabilities of each,—their moral, intellectual, and physical energies, and their actual social position in connection with European civilisation, we must not only examine their existing institutions, but we must find the key of these, and of their present character, in their earlier fortunes—in their prevailing superstitions-in their heroic struggles-and in the degrees of social emancipation which have resulted from them. At a period, also, so singularly interesting and momentous as the present, (when modern science presents us with immense facilities of intercourse, one of the great instruments of civilisation, daily bringing the leading interests of mankind into closer communion, and embracing the most distant lands,) the traveller of the nineteenth century seems almost under a moral obligation to obey the impulse towards a more enlightened and purer state of society, when, under juster laws, the people shall command time and disposition to know the dignity to which every human mind may attain, and, so knowing, to assert it. Without, in some measure, blending his views and feelings and embuing his previously acquired knowledge with a knowledge of the capacities and wants of those amidst whom he sojourns, the wanderer is as unjust towards himself as he is ungrateful towards others, and in so far defeats the real purpose of all travel and discovery,-the increase of science and social happiness, instead of bringing a sword, peace and good-will to the heart of the stranger. When now, too, from the different points of the grand European roads extending on all sides, (the basis of future regeneration and improvement, which few statesmen dream of-the resistless vanguard of civilisation,) the bold pedestrian can enter the remotest districts, and easily come in contact with various classes and professions, observe the changes in progress, the fast-decaying traditions and customs which, like the sea and the land, can no longer resist the wonder-working triumphs of modern art, he ought to aspire to something better than the idle curiosity of seeing, or the vanity of being seen. Let him follow where the genius of his country, and the age in which he lives, extending their influence to almost every land on which he can set foot,-would impel him, and, as an English writer, he would henceforth be received by other nations with even more gratifying distinction than he has been as a man. It is thus, perhaps, the characteristics of the Welsh appear in their truest colours to the mountain-wanderer. No other can so well catch the minuter lights and shades of their character,— those points and peculiarities in their genius and temper springing out of former institutions, antique customs and traditions, and the progressive wants, and the capabilities to supply them, which constitute the community as it is. By mingling as often as I could with natives of different districts, occupations, and professions, I sought to find the source of some of those peculiarities observable in the Welsh of the nineteenth century, and, among others, to account for that distinguishing loyalty and fidelity—that apathy and indifference to popular excitement, accompanied by a want of vigour and combination, as remarkable in the individual as in the body of the people. It struck me, that the same aversion to the adoption of English habits and manners might produce that dislike of political discussion, and apparent neglect of popular privileges, so strangely contrasting with the Irish, the English, and even the Scotch. But it was not so; the state. and I found that the opinion of a whole people is seldom wrong, calmness and equanimity of the modern Welsh-so inconsistent with their old hot spirit-resulted from fair and equal laws, a real adaptation and union of interests with those of the incorporating Welsh loyalty had its origin in a noble and lofty sentiment— the gratitude of an entire nation, and the still grateful recollection of receiving justice from their former oppressors, and at the hands of a descendant of their native princes, who rose to sway the sceptre by which they had once been enslaved. Hence, the inactive spirit, the quiet, patriarchal simplicity, the devotion to monarchy, and the passive obedience, forming so marked a contrast with that fierce insurgent spirit, so daring and irrepressible previous to the accession of the House of Tudor. No stronger instance, indeed, could be adduced of the paramount influence of political causes in the moulding of national character; and could the Irish or the Poles have exchanged circumstances with the conquered Welsh, I have not the least doubt but their pacific disposition and devoted loyalty would have been equally conspicuous with those of the latter. It is curious to consider how the fortunes of a people are found connected with some ancient prophecy or tradition; and, however we may smile at the idea of sanctioning the influence of the stars, the power of divination, and, in short, fortune-telling, history, both sacred and profane, tends to countenance the impression, and the most firm and enlightened are not at all hours wholly free from it. It is an historical fact, that few nations are without some one prevailing superstition,—some tradition which has exercised a powerful sway over their social and political existence. Simply as an historical fact, it is worth remarking, that the old prophecy of the Welsh, so generally received, of one of their princes being destined to rule over all Britain, was borne out, not by the re-appearance of King Arthur, or by the triumph of Llewellyn, but by the event through which they seemed at length to behold its completion, in the accession of a Tudor to the British throne. When Edward Plantagenet, in his pride of conquest, exposed to public gaze the bones of the famed son of Uther, and placed a bauble round the trunkless head of the last of the Welsh princes in derision of the popular tradition, he would have laughed to scorn the mere suggestion that, in one sense at least, the prophecy was still destined to be fulfilled-in the downfall of the mighty family of the Plantagenet by a descendant of those very princes whom he sought to extirpate from the soil. And as little imagined the Welsh they were to owe all that men should hold dear,—a wiser freedom, justice, and the regeneration of their land, with a participation in all the privileges of their conquerors, to one of their princes seated on the English throne, who, with their aid, was destined to overthrow the last and most warlike of the Norman kings. Such, at the period, was the respect for the national prophecy and the superstition of the Welsh, that, on landing, the son of Owen Tudor raised the standard of the Island Dragon-the ensign borne by the famous Arthur; and this appeal to their nobler recollections doubtless secured his good fortune, by exciting the enthusiasm of his countrymen. Henry, sensible of the important services rendered him by the Welsh, repealed the obnoxious laws enacted by his predecessors, and subsequently, with a view of improving the internal government of the Principality, sent his eldest son, Prince Arthur, into Wales. He was attended by a council of laymen and divines, to assist him in devising means for its future welfare and prosperity. The prince restored many of their harmless rights and privileges, and established peace along the borders. From this period we may date the marked change so observable in the character of the Welsh,—that calm and almost abject submission as relates to all questions of a political nature; while, however, they adhered as resolutely as before to their peculiar customs and their language. They have since, to all appearance, become a different people, showing as little disposition for change or innovation of any kind as they previously evinced for a peaceable life, when goaded by a vicious government. Even novelty and fashion, till very recently, could boast no charm in their eyes; and so far from an eagerness to shed each other's blood as of old, no persuasion of fortune, no hardship or disappointment can impel the modern Welshman to shed even his own. So great is the caution and aversion to change, that while the higher classes adopt with the English costume the English tastes and fancies, the simpler body of the people retain their primitive look and vest-still humour their old love of economy with linsey-woolsey, and wear few articles that have not been manufactured at home. Nay, the raw material must be also of native growth, or the home-spun does not sit easily and well. If they can be called proud of any thing, it is of their |