After we had descended the avenue some way John Jones began to look
about him, and getting on the bank on the left side disappeared.
We went on, and in a little time saw him again beckoning to us some
way farther down, but still on the bank. When we drew nigh to him
he bade us get on the bank; we did so and followed him some way,
midst furze and lyng. All of a sudden he exclaimed, "There it is!"
We looked and saw a large figure standing on a pedestal. On going
up to it we found it to be a Hercules leaning on his club, indeed a
copy of the Farnese Hercules, as we gathered from an inscription in
Latin partly defaced. We felt rather disappointed, as we expected
that it would have turned out to be the figure of some huge Welsh
champion of old. We, however, said nothing to our guide. John
Jones, in order that we might properly appreciate the size of the
statue by contrasting it with his own body, got upon the pedestal
and stood up beside the figure, to the elbow of which his head
little more than reached.
I told him that in my country, the eastern part of Lloegr, I had
seen a man quite as tall as the statue.
"Indeed, sir," said he; "who is it?"
"Hales the Norfolk giant," I replied, "who has a sister seven
inches shorter than himself, who is yet seven inches taller than
any man in the county when her brother is out of it."
When John Jones got down he asked me who the man was whom the
statue was intended to represent.
"Erchwl," I replied, "a mighty man of old, who with club cleared
the country of thieves, serpents, and monsters."
I now proposed that we should return to Llangollen, whereupon we
retraced our steps, and had nearly reached the farm-house of the
castle when John Jones said that we had better return by the low
road, by doing which we should see the castle-lodge and also its
gate which was considered one of the wonders of Wales. We followed
his advice and passing by the front of the castle northwards soon
came to the lodge. The lodge had nothing remarkable in its
appearance, but the gate which was of iron was truly magnificent.
On the top were two figures of wolves which John Jones supposed to
be those of foxes. The wolf of Chirk is not intended to be
expressive of the northern name of its proprietor, but as the
armorial bearing of his family by the maternal side, and originated
in one Ryred, surnamed Blaidd or Wolf from his ferocity in war,
from whom the family, which only assumed the name of Middleton in
the beginning of the thirteenth century, on the occasion of its
representative marrying a rich Shropshire heiress of that name,
traces descent.
The wolf of Chirk is a Cambrian not a Gothic wolf, and though "a
wolf of battle," is the wolf not of Biddulph but of Ryred.
CHAPTER LV
A Visitor - Apprenticeship to the Law - Croch Daranau - Lope de
Vega - No Life like the Traveller's.
ONE morning as I sat alone a gentleman was announced. On his
entrance I recognised in him the magistrate's clerk, owing to whose
good word, as it appeared to me, I had been permitted to remain
during the examination into the affair of the wounded butcher. He
was a stout, strong-made man, somewhat under the middle height,
with a ruddy face, and very clear, grey eyes. I handed him a
chair, which he took, and said that his name was R-, and that he
had taken the liberty of calling, as he had a great desire to be
acquainted with me. On my asking him his reason for that desire he
told me that it proceeded from his having read a book of mine about
Spain, which had much interested him.
"Good," said I, "you can't give an author a better reason for
coming to see him than being pleased with his book. I assure you
that you are most welcome."
After a little general discourse I said that I presumed he was in
the law.
"Yes," said he, "I am a member of that much-abused profession."
"And unjustly abused," said I; "it is a profession which abounds
with honourable men, and in which I believe there are fewer scamps
than in any other. The most honourable men I have ever known have
been lawyers; they were men whose word was their bond, and who
would have preferred ruin to breaking it. There was my old master,
in particular, who would have died sooner than broken his word.
God bless him! I think I see him now with his bald, shining pate,
and his finger on an open page of 'Preston's Conveyancing.'"
"Sure you are not a limb of the law?" said Mr R-.
"No," said I, "but I might be, for I served an apprenticeship to
it."
"I am glad to hear it," said Mr R-, shaking me by the hand. "Take
my advice, come and settle at Llangollen and be my partner."
"If I did," said I, "I am afraid that our partnership would be of
short duration; you would find me too eccentric and flighty for the
law. Have you a good practice?" I demanded after a pause.
"I have no reason to complain of it," said he, with a contented
air.
"I suppose you are married?" said I.
"Oh yes," said he, "I have both a wife and family."
"A native of Llangollen?" said I.
"No," said he: "I was born at Llan Silin, a place some way off
across the Berwyn."
"Llan Silin?" said I, "I have a great desire to visit it some day
or other."
"Why so?" said he, "it offers nothing interesting."
"I beg your pardon," said I; "unless I am much mistaken, the tomb
of the great poet Huw Morris is in Llan Silin churchyard."
"Is it possible that you have ever heard of Huw Morris?"
"Oh yes," said I; "and I have not only heard of him but am
acquainted with his writings; I read them when a boy."
"How very extraordinary," said he; "well, you are quite right about
his tomb; when a boy I have played dozens of times on the flat
stone with my schoolfellows."
We talked of Welsh poetry; he said he had not dipped much into it,
owing to its difficulty; that he was master of the colloquial
language of Wales, but understood very little of the language of
Welsh poetry, which was a widely different thing.
