Part 4

Description can scarcely suggest the full magnificence and beauty of the saunter from hence to Cardigan: the valley, about two miles in extent, seemed to possess all that Nature inherits; sloping hills, two hundred feet high, covered with wood, from the water’s edge, to their highest summit, and at the most acceptable distances, and truly happy situations, interrupted by a bold, naked, and projecting rock: whilst the broad and translucid stream of the Tyvi reflects, as in a mirror, the blackness of the impending shades. The retrospect commands the romantic ruins of Kilgarran Castle, whose mutilated walls close this delicious landscape. The whole valley bears a strong resemblance to the situation of the celebrated Piercefield. As this spot is entirely lost, by keeping the turnpike road, it is advisable for travellers, in general, to hire a boat from Cardigan to Kilgarran: this, our humble and less-encumbered mode of travelling rendered unnecessary.

At Llechryd, not far from Kilgerran, extensive Tin-works are carried on by Sir Benjamin Hamet. Having already examined works of this nature at Neath, we preferred the romantic vale of Kilgerran; as to accomplish both, would have occupied too much time.

We entered the town of

CARDIGAN,

over a handsome stone-bridge, built over the Tyvi, which is here of considerable width. In front of this stands, on a steep eminence, the Castle, consisting chiefly of its outer walls, which prove it to have been once a considerable building. This place, considered the principal town of the county, is called by the Britons _Abertuvi_; which name it receives from standing near the _Mouth of the River Tyvi_. It was fortified, together with the Castle, by Gilbert, son of Richard Clare, and demolished by Rhees ap Gryffith.

The town is large, and regular; its chief trade consisting in lead, exported to Ireland. The Church is large, and well-built, with a handsome tower. The new gaol, finished in 1797, is conveniently situated, and appears to be a well-planned building.

One mile West from Cardigan is

ST. DOGMAEL’s ABBEY,

called, by Leland, {61} a “Priory of Bonhommes.” The Monasticon places this house amongst the Benedictines; but it was that strict and reformed sort of Benedictines, called the order of _Tiron_, founded by _Martin of Tours_, who conquered the country of Cemmeis, about the time of King William the Conqueror. Part of the ruins is now converted into a chapel, for the convenience of the vicinity.

At the second mile stone, in our road from Cardigan, to the village of

LLANARTH,

we halted a short time, to take a retrospect of the country we had passed. From this spot, the Town and Castle of Cardigan, standing on an eminence, in the centre of a broad valley, and encircled with hills, beautifully introduced themselves to our view. From hence to

ABERAERON,

grand Sea prospects continued to enliven our route;—whilst the faint and still fainter hues of the coast of Ireland appeared just visibly skirting the distant horizon.

Aberaeron is situated in a vale, near the conflux of the river Aeron with the sea: from whence it receives its name; _Aber_ signifying the _mouth_ of any thing.

The entrenchment, mentioned by Sael, in his _Collection of Tours_, about a mile from Aberaeron, is now almost washed away, by the daily encroachments of the sea. We lamented, that the Druidical sepulchral monuments, mentioned by the same Author, were inadvertently passed unnoticed by us.

In this day’s journey, we still continued to indulge the sublime emotions, which an unconfined view of the ocean always inspires; a serene day, with partial gleams of sunshine, gave magical effects to the scenery; and the sea was enlivened with many a vessel, whose gay streamers, glittering to the sun-beams, presented to the eye a constant moving scene, and rendered the terrific ocean beautiful. Before us, the towering mountains of Merionethshire glittered in all those colours of beauty, which constitute the sublime; and we appeared only to climb one hill, to view still others rising in endless perspective: over the whole was diffused the rich glow of even; and the distant mountains were variegated by the parting tinge of lingering day. A neat Church, backed by romantic hills, animated the village of Llanrysted. Three miles from

ABERYSTWITH,

we paused at Llanryan Bridge, to admire the rich banks rising on each side of the river Ystwith, over which this bridge is thrown; it is built in the style of the celebrated Pont y Prydd, in the vale of Glamorganshire. We entered the town of Aberystwith, over a temporary wooden bridge. {63} In the year 1796, a stone bridge experienced the same fate with many others in Wales, occasioned by a sudden thaw: Mr. Edwards, from Dolgelly is now engaged in erecting another, by contract, consisting of six arches.

Aberystwith, partaking much of the dirt of sea-ports in general, is situated at the termination of the vale of Rhydol, in the Bay of Cardigan, and open to St. George’s Channel. The environs are stony and rugged; the coast affords indifferent bathing, being much exposed; and the shore rough and unpleasant. In fine, it is, in almost all respects, the reverse of Tenby, except it has the advantage in the number of houses, and, consequently, more company. At the extremity of the town, upon an eminence, stand the ruins of an ancient castle, of which little now remains but a solitary tower, overlooking a wide expanse of sea. It was rendered famous, by being, at one time, the residence of the great Cadwalader, and in all the Welch wars considered as a fortress of great strength: it was built by Gilbert Strongbow, 1107, and rebuilt by Edward I. in 1277, a few years before his complete conquest of Wales. The ruin of the castle now affords a pleasant walk.

But what formerly rendered this town more considerable, were the rich Lead Mines in its vicinity. These mines are said to have yielded near a hundred ounces of silver from a ton of lead, and to have produced a profit of two thousand pounds a month. Sir Hugh Middleton here made the vast fortune, which he afterwards expended on the New River, constructed for the purpose of supplying the Northern side of London with water. But Thomas Bushell raised these mines to their greatest height: an indenture was granted to him by Charles I. for the coining of silver pieces, to be stamped with ostrich feathers, on both sides, for the benefit of paying his workmen. This gentleman was afterwards appointed Governor of Lundy Isle. The most considerable lead mine was that of Bwlch-yr-Eskir-his, discovered in 1690. The ore was here so near the surface, that the moss and grass in some places just covered it.

Close to the scite of the old Castle, Mr. Uvedale Price, of Foxley in Herefordshire, has erected a fantastic house, in the castellated form, intended merely as a summer residence. Mr. Nash, of Caermarthen, was the architect: it consists of three octagon towers, with a balcony towards the sea. The rooms are well contrived, and elegantly furnished: the windows command an unlimited View of St. George’s Channel; and the dilapidated fragments of the Castle, are from hence viewed to great advantage.

We determined to pursue the Banks of the meandering Rhyddol, in preference to the turnpike road, in our way to Havod.

This valley comprehends every thing that constitutes the beautiful; it is enclosed by high mountains on each side, vegetating to their summits; indeed, all the tints of verdure, and diversity of foliage, here introduce themselves in one view; the Rhyddol struggling with the huge masses of rock,—its never-ceasing, tumultuous motion,—its sparkling foam;—in fine, every thing that can be imagined, by the most enthusiastic admirer of nature is blended in this short excursion:—

—“_is not this vale_ More free from peril than the envious courts? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The season’s difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the Winter’s wind.”

SHAKSPEARE.

To the inquisitive pedestrian, for this vale is inaccessible for carriages, the old Church of Llanbadern Vawr, which signifies _The Church of Great Paternus_, a native of Bretagne, is particularly interesting; who, as the writer of his Life expresses it, “by feeding governed, and by governing fed the Church of Ceretica.” To his memory this Church, and formerly an Episcopal See was founded: but the Bishopric, as Roger Hovedan writes, “early declined, because the parishioners slew their pastor.” {66}

As we drew near the

DEVIL’s BRIDGE,

a long chain of mountains excited our admiration, encircled half way down with a thick mist, similar in appearance to a girdle: this circumstance seems to justify the bold imagery, and beautiful description of a mountain given by the Poet:

“As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.”—GOLDSMITH.

The comfortable Inn, situated near this romantic spot, stands in front of the river Rhyddol, and commanding the most picturesque view fancy can paint, is built by the respectable and truly hospitable owner of Havod.

This celebrated Bridge, so much the object of curiosity and admiration, is so completely environed with trees, that many travellers, not intent upon deep investigation, or in pursuit of nature’s landscapes, may pass over it, without the least suspicion of the dreadful aperture, or the ancient structure, that conveys them over the gulf. On the Eastern side we descended a precipitous, and treacherous bank, consisting of slate rock, or _laminac_, I should imagine, near a hundred feet: this is the computed measurement; but the eye, confused by the awfulness of the scene, loses its faculty of judging. From this spot, the vast chine, or chasm, over which the bridge is thrown, is seen to great advantage: the whole of this fissure was probably occasioned by some convulsion of nature, as each indenture seems to correspond with the opposite protuberance. Under the bridge, the river Mynach, in its confined course, meeting with obstructions of massy rock, and fragments of prodigious size, rushes through the chasm with irresistible violence.

This bridge is called in Welsh _Pont-ar-Fynach_, or Mynach Bridge: it consists of two arches, one thrown over the other. The foundation of the under one is of great antiquity, and vulgarly attributed to the invention of the Devil: it is supposed to have been erected as far back as the year 1087, in the reign of William II., by the Monks of Strata Florida Abbey, the ruins of which are still visible, about ten miles from hence. Gerald mentions his passing over it, when he accompanied Baldwin, Archbishop of Cambray, at the time of the crusades, in the year 1188, and in the reign of Richard I. The original arch being suspected to be in a ruinous condition, the present bridge was built over it, at the expence of the county, in the year 1753.—The width of the chasm is estimated at about thirty feet.

Our Ciceroni first conducted us to a fall on the river Rhyddol, unobserved in Walker’s _Description of the Devil’s Bridge_, and unnoticed by Warner. The character of this fall is remarkably singular: a huge fragment of rock, projecting over the river for a considerable way, precipitates the water in a singular, and almost inexpressible direction; the rocks are occasionally variegated by the dark foliage of underwood, and sometimes barren, rugged, and impending.

Description cannot suggest the full magnificence of the prospect which spread before us, on our arrival at the grand fall of the Mynach; for though it may paint the grandeur of the elegance of outline, yet it cannot equal the archetypes in nature, or draw the minute features, that reward the actual observer, at every new choice of his position: reviewing this thundering cataract, in the leisure of recollection, these nervous lines of Thomson seem to describe much of the scene:

“Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair and placid, where collected all In one impetuous torrent, down the steep It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. At first an azure sheet, it rushes broad; Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, And from the loud-resounding rocks below Dash’d in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. Nor can the tortur’d wave here find repose: But raging still amid the shaggy rocks, Now flashes o’er the scatter’d fragments, now Aslant the hollow channel rapid darts; And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, With wild infracted course, and lessen’d roar, It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last, Along the mazes of the quiet vale.”

The following Table, taken from Walker’s _Description of the Devil’s Bridge_, gives the exact height from the top of the bridge, to the water underneath, and the different falls from thence, till the Mynach delivers itself into the Rhyddol below:

FALLS, &c. Feet. From the Bridge to the Water 114 First Fall 18 Second ditto 60 Third ditto 20 Grand Cataract 110 From the Bridge to the Rhyddol 322

The rocks on each side of the fall rise perpendicularly to the height of eight hundred feet, and finely clothed with the richest vegetation, to its highest summit.

Near the bason of the first fall from the bridge we entered a dark cavern, formerly inhabited by a set of robbers, two brothers and a sister, called _Plant Mat_, or _Plant Fat_, signifying Matthew’s Children. Tradition reports, that they committed various depredations in the neighbourhood, and lived concealed in this “_specus horrendum_” for many years, from the keen research of “day’s garish eye.” The entrance just admits sufficient light to make “darkness visible.”

With regret we left this romantic spot; where, if Retirement ever had “local habitation,” this was her “place of dearest residence.” “One excursion (says Mr. Cumberland) to this place will not suffice common observers; nor indeed many, to the lovers of the grand sports of Nature.” The Mynach (in another place he describes) coming down from beneath the Devil’s Bridge, has no equal for height or beauty that I know of; for although a streamlet, to the famous fall of Narni in Italy, yet it rivals it in height, and surpasses it in elegance.

“After passing deep below the bridge, as through a narrow firth, with noises loud and ruinous, into a confined chasm, the fleet waters pour headlong and impetuous, and leaping from rock to rock, with fury, literally lash the mountain’s sides; sometimes almost imbower’d among deep groves, and flashing, at last, into a fan-like form, they fall rattling among the loose stones of the Devil’s Hole—where, to all appearance, it shoots into a gulf beneath, and silently steals away: for so much is carried off in spray, during the incessant repercussions it experiences, in this long tortuous shoot, that, in all probability, not half the water arrives at the bottom of its profound and sullen grave.”

Four miles from hence, on the Llandiloe’s road, is situated

HAVOD,

the celebrated Seat of Mr. Johnes. The former, part of the road is barren and uninteresting: but on our first entrance into the grounds, all our past complaints were lost in expressions of admiration. The mansion is a very elegant piece of architecture built of Portland stone, and the plan entirely novel, being a mixture of the Moorish and Gothic, with turrets and painted windows. The whole of it indeed does great credit to the architect, Mr. Baldwyn of Bath. It is situated near the banks of the river Ystwith, and beautifully environed by lofty hills, clothed with oak. The interior of the house corresponds in elegance with the exterior. From the hall we were conducted through a suite of elegant apartments, very judiciously fitted up with paintings, statues, and antiques; but the Library more particularly engaged our notice, containing a choice and valuable collection of books: this octagonal room is built in the form of a dome, with a gallery round it, supported by a colonade of variegated marble pillars, of the ancient Doric order, with a circular window at top, for the admission of light. We entered through a handsome door, inlaid with a large reflecting mirror; immediately opposite is another door, of transparent plate-glass, leading to the Conservatory, three hundred feet in length, and containing a number of curious, and rare exotics, with a walk down the centre of the building. In fine, the effect of the _tout ensemble_ can better be imagined than described. Amongst the other things worthy of admiration, a handsome statue, in the Library, of Thetis dipping Anchises in the river Styx more particularly detains attention. We next passed through the Billiard-room, and were conducted to the top of the stair-case, to admire two elegant paintings, the subjects taken from Capt. Cook’s Voyages: the painter is unknown. Many of the rooms are beautifully furnished with rich Gobelin tapestry.

To give my readers a just conception of the beauties of Havod, I shall beg leave to borrow the elegant description of it, drawn by the masterly pen of Mr. Cumberland.

“Havod,” says Mr. Cumberland, “is a place in itself so pre-eminently beautiful, that it highly merits a particular description. It stands surrounded with so many noble scenes, diversified with elegance, as well as with grandeur; the country on the approach to it is so very wild and uncommon, and the place itself is now so embellished by art, that it will be difficult, I believe, to point out a spot that can be put in competition with it, considered either as the object of the Painter’s eye, the Poet’s mind, or as a desirable residence for those who, admirers of the beautiful wildness of nature, love also to inhale the pure air of aspiring mountains, and enjoy that _santo pacê_ (as the Italians expressively term it,) which arises from solitudes made social by a family circle.

“From the portico, it commands a woody, narrow, winding vale; the undulating forms of whose ascending, shaggy sides, are richly clothed with various foliage, broken with silver water-falls, and crowned with climbing sheep-walks, reaching to the clouds.

“Neither are the luxuries of life absent; for, on the margin of the Ystwith, where it flows broadest through this delicious vale, we see hot-houses, and a conservatory; beneath the rocks, a bath; amid the recesses of the woods, a flower-garden; and within the building, whose decorations, though rich, are pure and simple, we find a mass of rare and valuable literature, whose pages here seem doubly precious, where meditation finds scope to range unmolested.

“In a word, so many are the delights afforded by the scenery of this place, and its vicinity, to a mind imbued with any taste, that the impression on mine was increased, after an interval of ten years from the first visit, employed chiefly in travelling among the Alps, the Appenines, the Sabine Hills, and the Tyrollese; along the shores of the Adriatic, over the Glaciers of Switzerland, and up the Rhine; where, though in search of beauty, I never, I feel, saw any thing so fine—never so many pictures concentred in one spot; so that, warned by the renewal of my acquaintance with them, I am irresistibly urged to attempt a description of the hitherto almost virgin-haunts of these obscure mountains.

“Wales, and its borders, both North and South, abound, at intervals, with fine things: Piercefield has grounds of great magnificence, and wonderfully picturesque beauty. Downton Castle has a delicious woody vale, most tastefully managed; Llangollen is brilliant; the banks of the Conway savagely grand; Barmouth romantically rural; the great Pistill Rhayader is horribly wild; Rhayader Wennol, gay, and gloriously irregular—each of which merits a studied description.

“But, at Havod, and its neighbourhood, I find the effects of all in one circle; united with this peculiarity, that the deep dingles, and mighty woody slopes, which from a different source, conduct the Rhyddol’s never-failing waters from Plynlimmon, and the Fynach, are of an unique character, as mountainous forests, accompanying gigantic size with graceful forms; and, taken altogether, I see the ‘sweetest interchange of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains, and falls, with forests crowned, rocks, dens, and caves;’ insomuch, that it requires little enthusiasm there to feel forcibly with Milton, with

“All things that be, send up from earth’s great altar Silent praise!”

“There are four fine walks from the house, chiefly through ways artificially made by the proprietor; all dry, kept clean, and composed of materials found on the spot; which is chiefly a course stone, of a greyish cast, friable in many places, and like slate, but oftener consisting of immense masses, that cost the miner, in making some part of these walks, excessive labour; for there are places, where it was necessary to perforate the rock many yards, in order to pass a promontory, that, jutting across the way, denied further access; and to go round which, you must have taken a great tour, and made a fatiguing descent. As it is, the walks are so conducted, that few are steep; the transitions easy, the returns commodious, and the branches distinct. Neither are they too many, for much is left for future projectors; and if a man be stout enough to range the underwoods, and fastidious enough to reject all trodden paths, he may, almost every where, stroll from the studied line, till he be glad to regain the friendly conduct of the well-known way.

“Yet one must be nice, not to be content at first to visit the best points of view by the general routine; for all that is here done, has been to remove obstructions, reduce the materials, and conceal the art; and we are no where presented with attempts to force these untamed streams, or indeed to invent any thing, where nature, the great mistress, has left all art behind.”

We now for many miles passed a barren, dreary country, completely encircled with hills, and we only climbed one, to observe still others rising in the distant perspective: not even a house or tree appeared to interrupt the awfulness of the mountains, which after the copious fall of rain in the night, teemed with innumerable cataracts. According to our directions, we enquired at the foot of Plinlimmon for Rhees Morgan, as a proper man to be our conductor over the heights of the “fruitful father of rivers.” This man being absent, the whole family appeared thunderstruck at our appearance, and run with all haste imaginable into their miserable cot, or which might rather be dignified with the appellation of a pig-stye; as that _filthy animal_ seemed to claim, with the wretched family, an equal right to a share of the hovel. One apartment served for the inhabitants of every description, with only one small hole to admit the light; the entrance unprotected by a door, but with a blanket as a substitute, was exposed to the pitiless blast of the winter’s storm. Reviewing this despicable hovel, I recalled to my mind a very just observation of Goldsmith’s, “That one half of the world are ignorant how the other half lives.”