there were already, even in those days of 1802, numerous inns, erected at reasonable distances from each other, for the accommodation of tourists: and no sort of disgrace attached in wales, as too generally upon the great roads of england, to the pedestrian style of travelling. indeed, the majority of those whom i met as fellow-tourists in the quiet little cottage-parlours of the welsh posting-houses were pedestrian travellers. all the way from shrewsbury through llangollen, llanrwst, conway, bangor, then turning to the left at right angles through carnarvon, and so on to dolgelly (the chief town of merionethshire), tan-y-bwlch, harlech, barmouth, and through the sweet solitudes of cardiganshire, or turning back sharply towards the english border through the gorgeous wood scenery of montgomeryshire—everywhere at intermitting distances of twelve to sixteen miles, i found the most comfortable inns. one feature indeed of repose in all[pg 112] this chain of solitary resting-houses—viz., the fact that none of them rose above two storeys in height—was due to the modest scale on which the travelling system of the principality had moulded itself in correspondence to the calls of england, which then (but be it remembered this then was in 1802, a year of peace) threw a very small proportion of her vast migratory population annually into this sequestered channel. no huge babylonian centres of commerce towered into the clouds on these sweet sylvan routes: no hurricanes of haste, or fever-stricken armies of horses and flying chariots, tormented the echoes in these mountain recesses. and it has often struck me that a world-wearied man, who sought for the peace of monasteries separated from their gloomy captivity—peace and silence such as theirs combined with the large liberty of nature—could not do better than revolve amongst these modest inns in the five northern welsh counties of denbigh, montgomery, carnarvon, merioneth, and cardigan. sleeping, for instance, and breakfasting at carnarvon; then, by an easy nine-mile walk, going forwards to dinner at bangor, thence to aber—nine miles; or to llanberris; and so on for ever, accomplishing seventy to ninety or one hundred miles in a week. this, upon actual experiment, and for week after week, i found[pg 113] the most delightful of lives. here was the eternal motion of winds and rivers, or of the wandering jew liberated from the persecution which compelled him to move, and turned his breezy freedom into a killing captivity. happier life i cannot imagine than this vagrancy, if the weather were but tolerable, through endless successions of changing beauty, and towards evening a courteous welcome in a pretty rustic home—that having all the luxuries of a fine hotel (in particular some luxuries[1] that are almost sacred to alpine regions), was at the same time liberated from the inevitable accompaniments of such hotels in great cities or at great travelling stations—viz., the tumult and uproar.
life on this model was but too delightful; and to myself especially, that am never thoroughly in health unless when having pedestrian exercise to the extent of fifteen miles at the most, and eight to ten miles at the least. living thus, a man earned his daily enjoyment. but what did it cost? about half a guinea a day: whilst my boyish allowance was not a third of this. the flagrant health, health boiling over in fiery rapture, which ran along, side by side, with[pg 114] exercise on this scale, whilst all the while from morning to night i was inhaling mountain air, soon passed into a hateful scourge. perquisites to servants and a bed would have absorbed the whole of my weekly guinea. my policy therefore was, if the autumnal air was warm enough, to save this expense of a bed and the chambermaid by sleeping amongst ferns or furze upon a hillside; and perhaps with a cloak of sufficient weight as well as compass, or an arab's burnoose, this would have been no great hardship. but then in the daytime what an oppressive burden to carry! so perhaps it was as well that i had no cloak at all. i did, however, for some weeks try the plan of carrying a canvas tent manufactured by myself, and not larger than an ordinary umbrella: but to pitch this securely i found difficult; and on windy nights it became a troublesome companion. as winter drew near, this bivouacking system became too dangerous to attempt. still one may bivouack decently, barring rain and wind, up to the end of october. and i counted, on the whole, that in a fortnight i spent nine nights abroad. there are, as perhaps the reader knows by experience, no jaguars in wales—nor pumas—nor anacondas—nor (generally speaking) any thugs. what i feared most, but perhaps only through [pg 115]ignorance of zoology, was, lest, whilst my sleeping face was upturned to the stars, some one of the many little brahminical-looking cows on the cambrian hills, one or other, might poach her foot into the centre of my face. i do not suppose any fixed hostility of that nature to english faces in welsh cows: but everywhere i observe in the feminine mind something of beautiful caprice, a floral exuberance of that charming wilfulness which characterises our dear human sisters i fear through all worlds. against thugs i had juvenal's license to be careless in the emptiness of my pockets (cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator). but i fear that juvenal's license will not always hold water. there are people bent upon cudgelling one who will persist in excusing one's having nothing but a bad shilling in one's purse, without reading in that juvenalian vacuitas any privilege or license of exemption from the general fate of travellers that intrude upon the solitude of robbers.
thomas de quincey.
