The Sound of the Welsh Harp in Conwy: A Musical Welcome

For travellers arriving in Conwy in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the first thing they often encountered was not just the castle walls or the quay, but the sound of a Welsh harp.

Again and again, visitors recorded the same experience: on arriving at the town’s inns, they were welcomed by a harper who played during dinner, supper, and sometimes late into the night. This was no passing novelty. From at least the early 1700s through to the mid-nineteenth century, the harp formed a central part of Conwy’s hospitality.

Blind harpists were not unusual - a detail frequently remarked upon by visitors - and were often described as venerable figures, seen as living echoes of the ancient Welsh bards.

One name appears often: John Smith, the blind harper of Conwy, praised by travellers for his expressive playing, his mastery of traditional Welsh music, and his ability to move listeners deeply. Several visitors admitted to being reduced to tears by his music.

The tunes themselves mattered.

Pieces such as “Morfa Rhuddlan,” and “Ar Hyd y Nos,” and other old national music were repeatedly mentioned. Listeners described the music as plaintive, melancholy, wild, and deeply affecting – music that seemed inseparable from place, history, and memory. As Thomas Twinning put it, the same music would not have had the same effect anywhere else: “It would not at all have had this effect upon me in England. … A Welsh bard, playing in Wales, at Conway…”

Not all accounts were glowing. Some complained of noisy or inferior playing elsewhere in North Wales, which only served to enhance Conwy’s reputation for quality harpists.

For decades, the sound of the harp had been as much a part of the town as its walls and towers.

These accounts remind us that Conwy was not just a place to be seen, but a place to be heard - where music, hospitality, and identity came together in a way that left a lasting impression on generations of visitors.