Chapter II: Part 2

which we left with regret a few days afterwards.—We again pursued the Pembroke road; and, about two miles from Tenby, the neglected walls of Carew Castle invited curiosity;—and,

Deep struck with awe, we marked the dome o’erthrown,
Where once the Beauty bloom’d, the Warrior shone;
We saw the Castle’s mouldering tow’rs decay’d,
The loose stone tott’ring o’er the trembling shade.

This Castle, I imagine, was intended more for a noble residence, than a place of defence. The walls of this building are very thick, and constructed with stones, of a large size, strongly cemented with mortar. It is situated on a branch of Milford Haven, and consists of a range of apartments built round a quadrangle, with a circular tower at each corner. The South wall is entirely demolished; but the North consists of a spacious hall, measuring one hundred and two feet by twenty, supposed to have been built by Sir John Perrot: above and under this hall, are noble apartments, and extensive offices. This Castle appears to have been erected at different times, if we may judge from the architecture. Every ledge of the walls of the towers, denoting the different stories, were embossed with vegetation, which seemed to grow from the solid stone. Over the gate-way, at the West side, are the arms of England, Duke of Lancaster, and Carew; and contiguous to this entrance, is another spacious room, measuring eighty feet by thirty.

In the Farm-yard, adjoining the Church, which has a lofty square Tower, is a dilapidated stone-building, called the Parsonage.

Leaving Carew, we crossed a small Bridge over an arm of Milford Haven, and continued our route across a barren and uninteresting heath; till, descending to the Village of

CRESSELEY,

the luxuriant Plantation of Firs, belonging to Sir William Hamilton, attracted our attention. Small vessels constantly frequent this quay, from whence a quantity of small coal is shipped to different parts. From hence the road is extremely barren and unpicturesque; but, about three miles from

LANDSHIPPING,

an arm of Milford Haven again burst upon our sight.—Near it is situated the uninhabited house of Sir William Owen. In crossing the Ferry, Picton Castle, the property of Lord Milford, formed a prominent feature in the gay scene; and Slebitch, the Seat of Mr. Philips, standing at the end of the Haven, contributes considerably to this picturesque prospect.

The grounds of

PICTON,

through which we passed, about five miles in extent, seemed to be well planned, and kept in excellent order.

This Castle has always been inhabited; and having escaped the fate of all other Castles in Wales, during the civil wars, it retained, till very late, much of its original external form. It is now occupied by Lord Milford, and rendered a very comfortable summer residence. At the extremity of the Park, a good turnpike-road soon conducted us to

HAVERFORD-WEST,

which is considered as one of the largest Towns in South-Wales. It is very irregularly built, on the declivity of a hill, which is, in some parts, so very steep, that the ground-rooms frequently overlook the neighbouring roofs; yet there are some good houses. It is considered as a County of itself, and sends one Member to Parliament. The Town was formerly fortified by a strong wall, or rampart, on the Western summit: the shell of a once-extensive Castle, is still remaining; this is now converted into a goal.

The Parade, commanding a cheerful View of the neighbouring Country, and the ruins of an ancient Abbey, extends for a considerable way, by the side of a hill. At the extremity of this Walk, stand the ruins of an ancient Priory of Black Canons: the remains are now very inconsiderable, but we easily traced the Chapel, over one end of which is an arch, still in good preservation, and beautifully enwreathed with the rich drapery of ivy.

Haverford is called by the Welch, _Hwlfordh_. {47} Having finished our survey of Haverford, we started early the next morning, purporting to breakfast at

NEWGIN BRIDGE,

where we understood we should meet with every thing comfortable; but, to our disappointment, we found a most miserable, dirty pot-house, destitute of even the common comforts of life. We were literally obliged to stoop, in order to gain access to the Kitchen, which contained a small bed, and a few chairs; through this an elderly woman conduced us to what she distinguished by the name of a Parlour: in this room the furniture consisted of two beds, a dirty table, and a few chairs. With disgust we left this miserable hovel, and contented ourselves with a bason of milk: we declined eating the bread, or rather oatmeal cake, which was of the coarsest and hardest nature. I here recollected Shenstone’s complimentary lines on an Inn, but could not apply them on the present occasion:

“Whoe’er has travell’d life’s dull round,
Where’er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think that he has found
The warmest welcome at an Inn.” {49}

The road from Haverford to Newgin we found very uninteresting; and the shell of

ROACH CASTLE

did not detain us long. It stands on a rocky eminence, now completely in ruins, with only one tower remaining. “Roach Castle (says Leland) in Rouseland, to the right of the road to St. David’s, shews a round and some double out-works, visible at a great distance. It belonged to the Lords Ferrars and old Langeville, Knt. of Bucks.”

In descending the hill to Newgin, the dark lowering rocks, which form that fine Bay, called St. Bride’s, exhibited a grand prospect. In the centre of this Bay is situated Newgin, bounded on the South by the Island of Skomar, and on the North by Ramsay. The fields adjacent to this place have been frequently inundated, by extraordinary overflowings of the sea: at the reflux of the tide, the sands admit of most excellent walking.

The saunter from hence to the City of

ST. DAVIDS,

now properly deserving the name of a Village, was rather more captivating than our walk before breakfast: it was occasionally enlivened by the prospect of the wide ocean, boundless to our view on one side, whilst before us the fantastic shapes of the rocks off St. David’s Head, exhibited Nature, in her most awful and striking attitudes. Above the rest, Caern Thydy lifted its bold promontory, as if to give effect to the rude landscape. About half way between Newgin and St. Davids, the beautiful little Village of Solva unexpectedly burst upon our view; studded with neat white-washed cottages, and enclosed on each side with lofty rocks, which here form a picturesque and interesting chasm. These rocks, indeed, I could almost imagine, were torn asunder by some convulsive rent of the earth. The Cathedral, and dilapidated ruins of the episcopal Palace, are situated at the bottom of a steep hill, and scarcely visible in the town: these, and the prebendal houses, were formerly enclosed by a strong stone wall, with four gates, computed at eleven hundred yards in circuit. David, {51} the national saint of Wales, with the consent of King Arthur, is said to have removed the Metropolitan See from Cær Lleon to Menevia, which has ever since been called _Ty Dewi_, by the Welch, and St. David, by the English. What was the condition and extent of this town formerly, is difficult to say, having been so frequently destroyed. At present it is a very small city, and has nothing to boast, but its ruined palace, and old cathedral, dedicated to St. Andrew and St. David, which has often been demolished, but rebuilt, in its present form, by Bishop Peter, according to Giraldus, in the reign of Henry II. or as Willis, 1110, in Rhos Vale, below the town. It is still esteemed a noble pile, consisting of two transepts, measuring in length, from East to West, three hundred feet, and the body, with the aisles, seventy-six feet broad.

“Behind the choir is a most beautiful chapel, with a rich roof of
carved stone, built by Vaughan, in the time of Henry VIII. as a kind
of presbytery, between the choir and Lady chapel. In the last, whose
roof, as well as those of the ailes of the choir and transepts, have
been down ever since the civil war, are monuments for three bishops,
and in the nave, &c. four or five more. In the North wall of the
choir is the shrine of St. David, a kind of altar tomb, with a canopy
of four pointed arches, and in front four quatrefoil holes, into
which the votaries put their offerings, which were taken out by the
Monks at two iron doors behind. In the choir are also the monuments
of Owen Tudor, second husband of Queen Catharine, Rhys ap Tudor,
{52a} Bishops Jorwerth and Anselm, in the 13th century, and Edmund
Earl of Richmond, father of Henry VII. This last monument is said to
have prevented Henry VIII. from removing the see to Caermarthen.
Giraldus Cambrensis, who was Archdeacon of Brecon, canon of Hereford,
and Rector of Chesterton, Oxford, was buried here 1213. {52b} On the
North side of the church are some walls of St. Mary’s College,
founded by Bishop Houghton, and John of Gaunt, 1365, valued at
106_l._ _per annum_.” {52c}

It is much to be regretted, that so little regard has been paid to the internal appearance of this noble pile; the whole of it has lately been white-washed, which gives it too much the air of a modern building: the external part, I am sorry to add, has been equally neglected; and the chapels and monuments exposed to the wanton mischief of boys and idle people. The West front of the Cathedral has very lately been repaired by a Mr. Nash, {53} who has endeavoured, with bad success, to imitate the beautiful circular window remaining in the ruins of the Bishop’s Palace. The stone, likewise, with which it is built, is of so soft a substance, that it even moulders with the touch of the finger; but possibly it may, by being exposed to the air, like the Bath stone, become more solid; and, when by time it shall have acquired a darker hue, may then better correspond with the original building.

The Bishop’s Palace now stands a monument of desolation;—and as we walked over the loose fragments of stone, which are scattered through the immense area of the fabric, the images of former times rose to reflection,—when the spacious hall stood proudly in their original splendour; when the long ailes of the chapel were only responsive to the solemn, slow-breathed chaunt. In this Palace is a very long room, purposely erected for the reception of King John: at the extremity of it is a circular window, of very elegant and curious workmanship.

Giraldus gives us a true description of the county round St. Davids, representing it “as a stony, barren, unimprovable territory, undecked with woods, undivided by rivers, unadorned with meadows, exposed only to wind and storms.” Such, indeed, is the state and situation of St. Davids; and, the environs having no hedges to divide the property of the farmers, the sheep, and even the geese, are all tethered together.

The walk to St. David’s Head, though barren, represents a view striking and awful: sublimity gives place to elegance: yet what is it to view?—a boundless waste of ocean;—not a glimpse of smiling nature,—not a patch of vegetation, to relieve the aching sight, or vary the objects of admiration. The rocks on this shore, are shook into every possible shape of horror; and, in many parts, resemble the convulsions of an earthquake, splintered, shivered, and amassed. On these rocks stood the famous rocking stone, or _Y mean sigl_, which, “though twenty yoke of oxen could not move it, might be shaken with the slightest touch.” We understood it was thrown off its balance, by order of the farmer, to prevent the curious from trampling on his grounds. “A mile strait West from St. David’s, betwixt Portclais and Porthmaur,” {55} is the shell of Capel Stinen, St. Stinan’s, or St. Justinian’s Chapel.

From this spot is an extensive View of Whitsand Bay, called by the Welsh _Porth Maur_, or the Great Bay; in which stand the six Rocks, called _The Bishop and his Clerks_. Half a league from hence is

RAMSEY ISLE,

half a mile long, and three quarters broad, and divided into two considerable farms. The whole island is well stocked with rabbits; and, during the Spring, the Razorbill, Puffin, and Harry Birds, resort here in flocks.

Our walk, from St. Davids to

FISHGUARD,

afforded us little room for observation; the eye, however, kept in view a wide range of the unbounded ocean, till, dim with exertion, it by degrees reposed on the dark lowering rocks, which, disregarding the angry roar of the waves, seemed to project their broad sides, to augment the idle tumult. Quitting the turnpike road, in search of the place where the French effected their landing in 1797, we passed a neat house, called Caergwent, belonging to Mrs. Harris. The kind attentions of a farmer, in the neighbourhood of this memorable spot, claim our warmest acknowledgments. Having finished a most comfortable meal at Mr. Mortimer’s house, (which, during the confusion was considered the head-quarters of the French, commanded by General Tate) he explained every minutiæ respecting this circumstance; and very obligingly pointed out the situation of their camp, and related many entertaining and interesting anecdotes. Deeply impressed with gratitude towards Mr. M. for his civilities, we soon arrived at Goodric Sands. This spot was very judiciously selected by Lord Cawdor, as a proper place for the French to lay down their arms; for, had they resisted, a cannonade of grape-shot, from a neighbouring fortress, would have instantly played upon them. Fishguard stands on a steep rock, with a convenient harbour, formed by the river Gwain; though its situation and Bay are interesting, it is by no means a desirable place to remain long at.

Several Druidical Monuments {56} engaged our attention, as we drew near

NEWPORT,

Called by Giraldus Llanhever, or The Town on the River Nevern. The fragments of the Castle are too insignificant to invite the curiosity of the passing traveller: it was demolished by Llewellyn, Prince of South-Wales, when possessed by the Flemings.

The country beyond Newport presented a more pleasing countenance; wood, water, hill, and vale, all unite, even to induce the plodding citizen to pause, and wish to spend the evening of his days in the vicinity of its enchantment. In this interesting situation, we found the Village of Velindre:—we here particularly observed the slaty quality of the hills, and could not avoid condemning the folly of the inhabitants of Velindre, in building their cottages of mud, and sparingly covering them with straw, when Nature herself seemed to place comforts, if not luxuries, before their view. But, perhaps, these reproaches were ill-grounded: for, thus veiled in obscurity, they were happy, as they knew not enough of the world seriously to regret the want of these conveniencies: their situation, indeed, seemed to verify the philosophical sentiment of Gray;

“Since ignorance is bliss,
’Tis folly to be wise.”

For though they suffer the extremes of filth and penury, yet they enjoy the two inestimable blessings, health and felicity.

The broken towers of

KILGERRAN CASTLE,

soon attracted our notice. The relicks of this ruin stand on a point of rock, impending over the river Tyvi, whose beauty time had only impaired, to heighten its grandeur. Two imperfect circular towers, and the fragments of a wall, now only remain. The river Tyvi, I imagine, abounds with fish, as we observed at every door, in the village of Kilgerran, a coracle. {58} The construction of this little water conveyance is remarkably simple, and intended solely for the use of fishing: a thick skin, or coarse pitched canvas, is stretched over _wicker-work_. This singular fishing-boat only conveys one man, who manages it with the greatest adroitness imaginable; the right hand being employed in using the paddle, the left in conducting the net, and the teeth in holding the line. Two coracles generally co-operate, to assist each other in fishing: they usually measure about five feet long, and four broad, and rounded at the corners; and, after the labours of the day, are conveyed, on the back, to the little cot of the fisherman, which is looked upon as a necessary appendage to the cottage door.

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.”

“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 pierc’d by wintry winds,
How many shrink into the sordid hut
Of cheerless poverty.”—THOMPSON.

With some difficulty we prevailed on the female part of the family to give us proper directions to the source of the meandering Wye, {79} 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. There is nothing particularly engaging in the character of this mountain, except to 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 center of the woollen manufactory in this part of the country, principally of the _strong cloth_, or _high country cloth_. {81} The situation of Machynlleth, (or as it is pronounced by the Welch, _Mahunthleth_) is extremely romantic, stupendous mountains forming a natural rampart round the town. We here visited the neglected Mansion, where Owen Glendwr assembled the States of the Principality, in 1402, and accepted from their hands the crown of Wales. Part of the house is now allotted for the purpose of a stable, the remainder is turned 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 Welch towns in general, and the market-place is well built.

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 on 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.”

The sublimity of the walk from hence 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 the road, and it seemed necessary to remember their firm basis, to soften the terror they inspired; whilst other mishapen fragments lie 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 cap’d” 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. {83}

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

TALYLYN;

a small village, situated 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 persuade us, by largely expatiating on the comforts of his accommodations, to detain us till the weather wore a more favourable aspect, but knowing the uncertainty of his conjectures, we determined to make Barmouth our head quarters. Quitting therefore our officiously 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.

In the neighbourhood of this romantic spot, and indeed in many parts of Merionethshire, the manufacture of strong cloth has long been carried on. {84}

We were reluctantly necessitated to leave this interesting town of Dolgelly, much sooner than we wished, had we obeyed our own inclinations. No one can picture to themselves a more picturesque situation than that of Dolgelly:—an enclosed 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.

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, and sometimes projecting so far over the road, as seeming 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.

Barmouth, though considered as a bathing-place, is very inferior to Tenby, yet its situation for grandeur of rocks, has been frequently compared, by many Tourists, to Gibraltar; and by others, esteemed not unlike St. Kitts, in the West Indies. The vast sand banks, formed by the tides immediately in front of the town, are the only barriers which protect it from the inundations of the sea. The shore is extremely level, and affords, for many miles, excellent riding. In respect to the bathing, little can be said to recommend it; the machines are not drawn into the water, and by this palpable inconvenience, you are under the disagreeable necessity of walking a considerable way in, before the water is sufficiently deep for “plunging headlong in the briny flood.” During our stay here, two gentlemen perceiving that the water was very much alloyed by a fresh water stream disemboguing itself into the sea, at Barmouth, persuaded Mrs. Lewis, the obliging landlady of the Cors-y-gedol Arms, to remove the machines farther from the town; and from them we were informed, that though the salt water was purer, yet they found it impossible to draw them sufficiently deep for good bathing: the machines being stationary on the sands, the ladies likewise find it remarkably inconvenient, being equally compelled to walk in. The folly of this method seems to be more striking, as the objection might be so easily obviated. The lower class here, as in many other parts of Wales, indiscriminately dress and undress on the sands, and pay very little distinction to their sex.

The board and lodging is regulated on the same excellent plan here as at Tenby, with very little difference in respect to the expence. The town itself is very dirty, and so irregularly built, on the declivity of a rock, that the windows of one house not uncommonly look down on the neighbouring chimney. We could not avoid observing the number of pigs, which are esteemed in this part of the country far superior to any in England, lying in every corner of the street; and these pigs, I rather imagine, consider themselves, during the night, inmates of the peasant’s cottage: yet these hardships, if they may be distinguished by that name, the inhabitants of the hovel suffer without complaint, and deem themselves perfectly happy as long as they possess a pile of turf to keep off the inclemency of the winter’s blast, a small strip of ground, well stocked with potatoes, some poultry, and a fat pig; though one hovel protects them all. Though to appearance, their situation is most miserable, yet it has no effect on their tempers and dispositions; their hospitality, and indeed kindness, towards strangers in distress, is an interesting trait in their character: to instance this, I am induced to mention an anecdote, which took place at Hubberstone, not long ago. A lady anxiously waiting the arrival of her husband, from Ireland, at the miserable village of Hubberstone, soon interested even the meaner inhabitants of the place in her behalf; who willing to render her situation as comfortable as possible, seemed to vie with each other in producing the most delicious fruits, and the choicest garlands of flowers, to present them to the unhappy consort; and not content alone with this, she was generally greeted in the streets, with the phrase, “There goes poor Mrs. L—.” The lady, at last, impatient for the arrival of her husband, determined to sail for Ireland. The faithfulness of the little group that accompanied her to the shore, can better be imagined than described; the last farewell, with tears of artless innocence, and the beseeching that Providence “who governs the waves, and stills the raging of the sea,” to grant her a prosperous voyage; all this seemed to come so thoroughly from the bottom of their hearts, that we cannot avoid feeling ourselves interested in their behalf.

The road from hence to

HARLECH,

is stony and uninteresting; to the left an unbounded view of the wide ocean, and in front, the steep mountains of North Wales rose in endless perspective. About four miles from Barmouth, we passed the two lodges at Tal-y-bont, leading to Cors-y-gedol, the seat of Sir Thomas Mostyn. It is practicable to go by the sands, but we were given to understand, by Mrs. Lewis, that the turnpike was, if any thing, shorter, the scenery more pleasing, and the guides necessary for crossing those dangerous sands, in general, most complete villains.

Harlech, though formed by Edward I. into a borough, can now be esteemed little more than a dirty village: the present castle, one of the most entire in Wales, is founded on a very high rock, projecting in the Irish Sea, and defended by a deep foss on the east side; below it is a marsh of considerable extent, occasionally overflowed by the sea; from the top of the walls to this marsh the height is very considerable, and from thence the Bay of Cardigan is seen to great advantage; in addition to this, the shagged summits of Cader Buchan and Snowdon, in Caernarvonshire, being enveloped in clouds, appear scarcely visible.

At the public-house, we accidentally met with a well-informed man, who minutely delineated every part of the castle; beginning with the founder, in the true characteristic style of a Welchman, run through his pedigree several generations: this, however, did not interest us, cursory pedestrians; and with little persuasion we soon induced him to write down, in as concise a manner as possible, any information he was acquainted with respecting the castle: “The founder of Harlech Castle, A.D. 552, was Maclegwynn; Gwynead made Caer Dugoll (Shrewsbury;) Caer Gyffin (Aber Conway;) Caer Gollwyn (Harleck) supposed to be buried in Cirester, and reigned thirty-four years.” Whether this information is correct, I will not take upon me to assert; but meeting with a Welchman, in this part of the country, capable of writing, rather surprised us, and induced me to transcribe this short paragraph.

The double gate-way, with four strong towers, is still very perfect; and the whole in sufficient repair, to form a conjecture of its ancient extent and grandeur. It was originally supposed to have been a Roman town, a conjecture founded on the great number of coins, and other pieces of antiquity, which have been found here, and in the neighbourhood.