Part 9

We now for many miles passed a barren, dreary country, completely encircled with hills; and we only climbed one to observe others still 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 ran with all haste imaginable into their miserable cot. 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.

“Ah! little think the gay licentious proud, Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround: They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, And wanton, often cruel, riot waste; Ah! little think they while they dance along, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . how many drink the cup Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread Of misery. Sore pierced by wintry winds, How many shrink into the sordid hut Of cheerless poverty.”

THOMSON.

With some difficulty we prevailed on the female part of the family to give us proper directions to the source of the meandering Wye, {119} and rapid Severn. The latter they only understood by the name of Halfren, its original British name; it is likewise called in Latin, Sabrina. From the top of Plinlimmon we for the first time discovered the shaggy summit of Cader Idris, and the spiral head of Snowdon. “With respect to Plinlimmon mountain,” says Mr. Malkin, “it is inferior only to Snowdon and Cader Idris; if to the latter, in point of size and height. It takes its name from five beacons; many of which, if not all, still remain, and are seen at some distance. We may indeed compare Plinlimmon with those formidable personages of poetical creation, who walk with their feet upon the earth, and their heads in the region of the heavens.” There is nothing particularly engaging in the character of this mountain, except in its giving rise to no less than six or eight rivers, and, on this account, has frequently been celebrated by the Poet. Though its summit commands a circle of many miles diameter, yet the prospect by no means answered our expectations. We descended into a swampy bottom, which afforded us unpleasant walking for two or three miles, when a most delightful and well-cultivated valley unexpectedly enlivened our spirits. The sun was making

. . . . “a golden set, And by the bright track of his fiery car Gave signal of a goodly day to-morrow,”

just as we entered this interesting vale; the hay-makers, in the coolness of the evening, were returning to their homes,

“Each by the lass he loved.”

In short, the whole valley breathed delicious fragrance: add to this, innumerable cataracts rushed from the mountain’s summits, occasioned by the late copious rains.

From hence a good turnpike road soon conducted us to the romantic town of

MACHYNLLETH,

considered as the centre of the woollen manufactory in this part of the country, principally of the strong cloth, or high country cloth. {121} The situation of Machynlleth (or as it is pronounced by the Welsh, Mahunthleth), is extremely romantic; stupendous mountains forming a natural rampart round the town. This town is supposed to have been the Maglona of the Romans, and where, in the name of Honorius, a lieutenant was stationed to awe the mountaineers. It is 206 miles from London, and 33 from Montgomery: its population, 1,595 persons. We here visited the neglected mansion where Owen Glyndour assembled the states of the principality, in the year 1402, and accepted from their hands the crown of Wales. Part of the house is now converted into a butcher’s shop:—

“Sic transit gloria mundi.”

In fine, the only evident remains of its ever having been celebrated in the annals of history, is a spacious door-way. The town itself, in many parts, bears the appearance of antiquity: the streets are considerably wider than Welsh towns in general, and the market-place is well-built: tanning and the manufacture of flannels and webs constitute the principal employment of the inhabitants.

As we entered Machynlleth, being the first town in North Wales, we were in a manner instinctively induced to reflect on the various incidents that had befallen us from our first sallying forth on our pedestrian excursion. We took a retrospect of all our little troubles with equally as much delight as the sailor, who, by the blessing of Providence, has escaped the most imminent dangers: all our past imaginary dangers (for imaginary evils are frequently worse than real ones) were overbalanced with reflections on the many hours of pleasure that were flown unheeded by: these reflections brought to my recollection some interesting lines in Bowles’s sonnets, which I involuntarily exclaimed aloud:

“Fair scenes, ye lend a pleasure long unknown To him who passes weary on his way; The farewell tear which now he turns to pay Shall thank you, and whene’er of pleasures flown His heart some long-lost image would renew, Delightful haunts! he will remember you.”

At the village of Kevn Kaer are the remains of an oval camp, a wall, and ditch: evidently Roman, from the coins and other antiquities found there.

The sublimity of the walk to Talylyn literally “beggars description.” Having crossed a bridge of eight arches, thrown over the river Dovey, high mountains closed us on every side, shook into every possible form of horror; huge masses of rock hung over our path, and it seemed necessary to remember their firm basis, to soften the terror they inspired; whilst other mis-shapen fragments lay scattered at the side of the road. The transparent Dyflas, whose clear surface reflected the tremulous picture in all its colours, forms one continued cataract for five or six miles, overflowing with the innumerable tributary torrents which hurry themselves down from the highest summit of the surrounding rocks; whilst, to give effect to the whole prospect, the shaggy head of Cader Idris towers, the majestic sentinel of the scene, whose “cloud capt” summit the eye aches in surveying. To our great disappointment, the weather prevented our ascending this celebrated mountain giant. Cader Idris is esteemed, in height, the second mountain in all Wales, rising two thousand eight hundred and fifty feet above the green of Dolgelly. {123}

If the weather proves favourable to ascend Cader Idris, travellers may be very comfortably accommodated with beds at

TALYLYN;

a small village, situate at the foot of the mountain; and where they will likewise meet with a conductor, in every respect suited for this Alpine excursion. Mr. Jones, the landlord of the Blue Lion, used all his influence to detain us until the weather wore a more favourable aspect; but we determined to make Barmouth our head quarters. Quitting, therefore, our polite landlord, we soon arrived at the pool of Three Grains, which though of inferior size, yet is generally credited to be unfathomable; it abounds in fish, and derives its name from three immense stones, or rather fragments of rock, near it, which the common people confidently assert, and believe, the giant Idris took out of his shoes as he passed this pool.

Having ascended several hills, a quick descent of three or four miles soon brought us to

DOLGELLY,

surrounded with a “tempestuous sea of mountains,” and watered by the rapid current of the river Avonvawr, over which is thrown a large and handsome stone bridge at the entrance of the town.

This town was known to the Romans, if we may judge from the coins found at a well in its vicinity, bearing this inscription, “IMP. CÆSAR. TRAJAN.” It contains 537 houses, and 3064 inhabitants: but the church is little better than a barn, with a covered roof, supported by two rows of rude oak pales, and a bare earth floor.

In the neighbourhood of this romantic spot, and indeed in many parts of Merionethshire, the manufacture of strong cloth has long been carried on. {124}

No one can picture to themselves a more delightful situation than that of Dolgelly:—an inclosed vale, encircled with the craggy and subject mountains of Cader Idris, forming an amphitheatre,—watered by the Alpine torrent of the Maw,—and richly clothed with wood. But necessity has no law; the best inn was pre-occupied, and no comfortable accommodations could be found; and, though drenched with rain, we were compelled to quicken our pace to the well known bathing-place of Barmouth.

Such, at the present day, is not likely to be the fate of the traveller, as Dolgelly boasts of three inns, the Lion, the Angel, for travellers without a carriage, and the new inn, called the Ship. One, two, or more days will be passed here very pleasantly, either in excursions to Cader Idris, Dol-y-melynllyn, the waterfalls of the Rhaiadr-du, Rhaiadr y Mawdech and Pistyll y Cayne; or, under the sanction of Sir R. Hoare, who says he knows of no place where so many inducements are held out to excite the traveller to make excursions in its vicinity, he may visit the vale of the Dee, Caer Gai, an old Roman station, at the end of the lake of Bala, and Dinas y Mowddu, to enable them to accomplish which, ponies and a guide are to be procured.

The following is Dr. Mavor’s account of the Cader Idris Guide, an original Caleb Quotem, and the bill of introduction he delivered to his employers:

“Lege, aspice Conductorem, et ride.

“ROBERT EDWARDS,

second son of the celebrated tanner, William Edwards, ap Griffith, ap Morgan, ap David, ap Owen, ap Llewellyn, ap Cadwalader; great, great, great grandson of an illegitimate daughter of an illustrious hero, (no less famed for his irresistible prowess, when mildly approaching under the velvet standards of the lovely Venus, than when sternly advancing with the terrible banners of the bloody Mars) Sir Rice ap Thomas!!! by Anne, alias Catherine, daughter of Howill ap Jenkin, of Ynys-y-maesgwyn; who was the thirteenth in descent from Cadwgan, a lineal descendant of Bleddyn ap Cynfyn, Prince of Powis. Since his nativity full two and eighty times hath the sun rolled to his summer solstice; fifty years was he host of the Hen and Chickens alehouse, Pen-y-bont, twenty of which he was apparitor to the late right reverend Father in God, John, Lord Bishop of Bangor, and his predecessors: by chance, made a glover, by genius, a fly-dresser and angler. He is now, by the All Divine assistance, conductor to, and over the most tremendous mountain Cader Idris, to the stupendous cataracts of Cayne and Mowddach, and to the enchanting cascades of Dol-y-melynllyn, with all its beautiful romantic scenery; guide general, and magnificent expounder of all the natural and artificial curiosities of North Wales; professor of grand and bombastic lexicographical words; knight of the most anomalous, whimsical (yet perhaps happy) order of hair-brained inexplicables.”

“He is a little slender man, about five feet four inches in height, and, notwithstanding his advanced age, hopped and skipped about the room with all the vivacity and agility of a school-boy. The manner in which he expresses himself is as droll as his appearance. He was dressed in a blue coat with yellow buttons, a pair of old boots, and a cocked hat and feather of enormous size.”

Mr. Pugh, in his Cambria Depicta, gives a portrait of him from the life, seated on his poney, conducting a party up the mountain, and adds to his bill the two following lines:

“_Mark_, _traveller_, what rarely meets thy view, Thy guide, a giddy _Boy_ of eighty-two.”

Mr. Warner’s description of the view from the summit of Cader Idris is just and concise.

“The afternoon was gloriously fine, and the atmosphere perfectly clear, so that the vast unbounded prospect lay beneath, unobscured by cloud, vapour, or any other interruption, to the astonished and delighted eye; which threw its glance over a varied scene, including a circumference of at least 500 miles. To the north-east was Ireland, like a distant mist upon the ocean; and a little to the right Snowdon, and the other mountains of Caernarvonshire. Further on, in the same direction, the Isle of Man, the neighbourhood of Chester, Wrexham, and Salop; the sharp head of the Wrekin, and the undulating summit of the Cleehills. To the south, I saw the country round Clifton, Pembrokeshire, St. David’s, and Swansea; to the west, a vast prospect of the British Channel, bounded by the horizon. Exclusive of these distant objects, the nearer views were wonderfully striking. Numberless mountains, of different forms, appearances, and elevation, rose in all directions; which, with the various harbours, lakes, and rivers, towns, villages, and villas, scattered over the extensive prospect, combined to form a scene inexpressibly august, diversified, and impressive.” {128}

Mr. Aikin ascended it from Dolgelly. Llyn-y-Gader lies about a mile and a half on the high road to Towyn, which having arrived at, we quitted the road, and began our ascent. When we had surmounted the exterior ridge, we descended a little to a deep clear lake, which is kept constantly full by the numerous tributary torrents which fall down the surrounding rocks. Hence we climbed a second and still higher chain, up a steep but not difficult track, over numerous fragments of rock, detached from the higher parts: we now came to a second and more elevated lake, called Llyn y Cae, clear as glass, and overlooked by steep cliffs, in such a manner as to resemble the crater of a volcano, of which a most accurate representation may be seen in Wilson’s excellent View of Cader Idris. A clear, loud, and distinct echo repeats every shout which is made near the lake. The waters of this lake cover an extent of fifty acres, abounding with trout and other fish. We now began our last and most difficult ascent, up the summit of Cader Idris itself. The loose columnar stones lie about in all directions, assuming in many places so regular an appearance, that they might be mistaken for Druidic remains. Some of them stand erect, like Maenhirion, and one is dignified with the title Llêch Idria. Nearer the summit, numerous masses of irregular figures present themselves. Having gained this ascent, a small plain forms the base to two eminences, or rocky heads, of nearly equal height, one lying towards the north, called Tyrran Mawr, the other to the south, called Pen y Gader. We made choice of the latter, which appeared the most elevated, and seated ourselves upon its highest pinnacle to rest, after a laborious ascent of three hours. We were now above all the eminences within a vast expanse, and as the clouds gradually cleared away, caught some grand views of the surrounding country. The huge rocks, which we before looked up to with astonishment, were now far below our feet, and many a small lake appeared in the valleys between them. To the north, Snowdon and its dependencies shut up the scene; on the west, we saw the whole curve of the bay of Cardigan, bounded at a great distance by the Caernarvon mountains, and nearer the sea, dashing its white breakers against the rocky coast of Merioneth. The southern horizon was bounded by Plinlimmon, the bay of Swansea, the Channel peeping through the openings of the Brecon mountains; and on the east, the eye glanced over the lake of Bala, the two Arennig mountains, the two Arrans, and the long chain of the Ferwyn mountains, to the Breddin hills, on the confines of Shropshire. Dimly, in the distant horizon, was beheld the Wrekin, rising alone from the plain of Salop. “In viewing scenes so decidedly magnificent,” says a pictorial writer, “and to which neither the pen nor the pencil of the painter can ever do justice; and the contemplation of which has the power of making ample atonement for having studied mankind, the soul expanding and sublimed, quickens with a spirit of divinity, and appears, as it were, associated with the Deity himself. For, in the same manner as a shepherd feels himself ennobled, while sitting with his prince, so, and in a far more unlimited degree, the beholder feels himself advanced to a higher scale in the creation, in being permitted to see and to admire the grandest of the works of nature.” Having satisfied our curiosity, and being thoroughly chilled by the keen air of these elevated regions, we began to descend down the side opposite to that which we had come up.

The first stage led us to another beautiful mountain lake, the cold clear waters of which discharge their superabundance in a stream down the side of the mountain. All these lakes abound with trout, and in some is found the gwniad, a fish peculiar to rocky Alpine lakes. Following the course of the stream, we came upon the edge of the craggy cliffs which overlook Talyllyn lake. A long and difficult descent conducted us, at last, to the borders of Talyllyn, where we entered the Dolgelly road.

The mountain

CADER IDRIS,

in height the second in Wales, rises on the sea-shore, close upon the north side of the estuary of the small river Disynwy, about a mile from Towyn. It proceeds with almost a constant ascent; first northwards for about three miles, then, for ten miles further, runs east-north-east, giving out from its summit a branch nearly three miles long, in a south-west direction, parallel to the main ridge. It is very steep and craggy on every side; but the south descent, especially to the border of Talyllyn lake, is the most precipitous, being nearly perpendicular. Its breadth bears but a small proportion to its length; a line passing along its base, and intersecting the summit, would scarcely equal four miles and a half; and in the other parts it is a mere ridge, whose base hardly ever exceeds one mile in breadth. Cader Idris is the beginning of a chain of primitive mountains, extending in a north-north-east direction, and including the Arrans and the Arennigs. It is much loftier and more craggy than the slate and secondary mountains which surround it.

The following Ode, by a friend, was written at the fountain welling from the side of this mountain.

I.

The winds are hush’d: the woods are still; And clouds around yon towering hill, In silent volumes roll:— While o’er the vale, the moon serene Throws yellow on the living green; And wakes a harmony between The body and the soul.

II.

Deceitful calm! yon volumes soon, Though gilded by the golden moon, Will send the thunder’s roar. Gloom will succeed the glowing ray; The storm will rage with giant sway; And lightnings will illume its way Along the billowy shore.

III.

’Tis thus in life, from youth to age, Through manhood’s weary pilgrimage, What flattering charms infest! We little think beneath a smile, How many a war, how many a wile, The rich, confiding, heart beguile, And rob it of its rest.

IV.

Then let me near this fountain lie; And let old Time in silence fly, Stealing my youth away! Far from the riot of the mean, Oh! let me o’er this fountain lean; Till Death has drawn the darksome skreen, That hides eternal day.

Mr. Bingley ascended this mountain from the Blue Lion, kept by Jones, before mentioned, who acts as guide: from this spot Mr. Bingley declares himself capable of attaining the summit in two hours, from which he describes the views to be more varied, if not so extensive, as from Snowdon.

“In descending,” he says, “I took a direction eastward of that in which I had gone up, and proceeded along that part of the mountain called Mynydd Moel. The path in this direction is sufficiently sloping to allow a person to ride even to the summit. A gentleman, mounted on a little Welsh poney, had done this a few days before I was here.”

“About two miles from Dolgelly is the pretty village of Llanettyd, and from hence a road through the vale to Maentwrog, which vale is seen to much advantage from the bridge. From this village likewise a path leads to Y Vanner, or Kymmer Abbey, founded in 1198, by Meredith and Griffith, lords of Merioneth, and sons of Cynan ap Owen Gwynedd, prince of North Wales. The monks were of the Cistercian order, and the abbey was dedicated to St. Mary.

“The approach to Barmouth was formerly over a prodigious mountain, surmounted with great difficulty, and passed with apprehension of destruction. The magistrates of the county, however, bent on improvement, agreed with an undertaker to form a road out of the steep rocks jutting out from the sea, and to guard it with a wall. The labour was astonishing, the price two guineas a yard. It is now a most charming road, exhibiting romantic boldness of scenery.

“A stone bridge of several arches conducts over Wnion, which here flows many hundred feet wide. On the right, at a mile distant from the town, on the bank of the river, are the ruins of Kymmer Abbey. Two miles from Dolgelly is Nanneau Park, once the residence of Hawel Sele, an inveterate enemy of Owen Glyndwr, the ancient seat of the family of that name, now of Sir William Vaughan, Bart. The road is by a steep ascent, and the house stands on very high ground. Sir Robert Vaughan erected a new and handsome mansion. In the upper part of the park are the remains of a British post, called Moel Orthrwn, or the Hill of Oppression. Returning towards Barmouth, you regain the road at Llan Ettyd, where the tide flows to a considerable height. Brigs are built here of 200 tons burden.

“From Llan Ettyd to Barmouth is ten miles of most excellent road, winding round the hill opposite to Dolgelly, on a shelf of rock, through hanging woods, across a handsome stone bridge over the Mawddach, when it joins the Wnion. The expanse of water here is considerable at high tide, having the appearance of a large lake, enveloped by mountains. The vivid summit of Cader now assumes the appearance of a volcano. The road follows the inequalities of the shore, till it occupies a narrow shelf of the perpendicular rock of Barmouth. Here is a fine view of the river falling into the beautiful bay of Cardigan.”—NICHOLSON.

BARMOUTH.

It is advisable for all travellers, pedestrians not excepted, to leave Dolgelly at high water, as without that the scenery loses much of its beauty; if convenient, it is certainly preferable to hire a boat at the Stoves; the charge is three shillings and sixpence; by this you will save a walk of eight miles, and both from your situation, and from being more at your ease, will better admit of your observing the surrounding scenery, with which you cannot fail to be highly gratified.

This short excursion of eight miles is truly grand, awful, and sublime; and, though many parts of this striking valley are richly cultivated, yet, by the side of the road, enormous mountains, formed into the most capricious shapes, shoot into the clouds, sometimes projecting so far over the road, as seemingly designing to impede our farther progress: the wide expanse of the ocean in front, with the arm of the sea running up the country in the centre of the valley; in fine, the _tout ensemble_ claimed our highest admiration.