Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

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 Aberteivi; 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.

Cardigan had once a strong castle; but it was destroyed in the civil wars, and an elegant mansion erected on its site by Mr. Bowen: the cellars of which were anciently the dungeons of the keep. At the end of the bridge is a chapel, said to be erected on the spot, where Giraldus preached the Crusade.

The town is large and regular; its chief trade consisting in lead, exported to Ireland. It sends one member to Parliament, and gives the title of Earl to the family of Brudenell. The Church is large, and well built, with a handsome tower. The new gaol, finished in the year 1797, is conveniently situated, and appears to be a well-planned building. One mile from Cardigan is

ST. DOGMAEL’S ABBEY,

called, by Leland, {94} 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. St. Dogmael’s is now a mere fishing village.

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 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, passing each other in various directions, and contributing to render 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 others still rising in endless perspective: over the whole was diffused the rich glow of evening; 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-prid, in the vale of Glamorganshire. We entered the town of Aberystwith over a temporary wooden bridge. {95} 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, has lately erected another, by contract, consisting of six arches.

Aberystwith, partaking much of the dirt of seaports in general, is situated at the termination of the vale of Rhyddol, 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 Welsh wars was considered as a fortress of great strength: it was built by Gilbert Strongbow, in the year 1107, and rebuilt by King Edward I. in 1277, a few years before his complete conquest of Wales. The ruin of the castle now affords a pleasant walk.

At this castle Edmund Goodere, Esq. farmer of the mines royal in the county of Cardigan, had letters patent, 13th of Charles I., to erect a mint for coinage of such silver as was raised from the said mines royal in Wales; but the castle and houses for the mint were destroyed by the civil war. On the 6th of March, 1646, on his petition to this effect, the smelting house, near the refining mills, was appropriated by Parliament to this purpose, till the castle should be refitted.

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 King 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 the year 1690. The ore was here so near the surface, that the moss and grass in some places scarcely covered it. {97}

Close to the site 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.

Aberystwith has of late years been in all respects greatly improved; for being the principal place of summer resort for bathing and pleasure from North Wales and the adjacent English counties, every inducement has been held forth that could attract company from its new competitors: the roads are now good, and the inns and accommodations excellent. The population consists of 2,397 persons.

The bathing is well conducted, and although the beach, as at most of our watering places, is formed of pebbles, still there are generally good sands to bathe on at all hours of the tide. During the season, assemblies are held here as at Brighton, Ramsgate, and other English sea-bathing places. Formerly, the town-hall likewise served as a theatre, but another building has now been erected for that purpose. Notwithstanding Aberystwith is prevented by the sand bar at the entrance from receiving vessels of large tonnage, still its trade is considerable and increasing, carried on by vessels from 250 tons burthen down to 18.

Mr. Meyrick’s remarks with respect to this port are perfectly correct. “Were two piers made on those ridges of the rock called the Wey, which afford the strongest foundations, the harbour would be handsome, capacious, and convenient. Besides, by cutting a passage across the road to the north of the town, and carrying it along the marsh into the sea, for the Rhyddol, just at the angle it makes when it takes a south-west course, an excellent back-water would be at hand, and would clear away any bar that might be formed at the mouth of the harbour, and keep it free from mud.”

It has two markets in the week; Monday for butter, &c., and Saturday for meat, besides which, it is generally well supplied with fish, with which it furnishes the interior of the country as far as Shrewsbury and Worcester. The views from the castle and cliffs, not only over Cardigan Bay, but over the cloud-capped summits of Cader Idris and Snowdon, are extensive and sublime.

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 inclosed 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.

“The vale of Rhyddol,” says Mr. Gilpin, “is a very grand and extensive scene, continuing not less than ten miles, among rocks, hanging woods, and varied ground, which, in some parts, become mountainous: while the river is every where a beautiful object; and twice or three times, in its passage through the vale, is interrupted in its course, and formed into a cascade. This is a circumstance in a _vale_, I think, rather uncommon. In a contracted _valley_ it is frequent: but _an extended vale_ is seldom so interrupted as not to give way to the river on one side or the other.”

To the inquisitive pedestrian (for this vale is inaccessible for carriages), the old Church of Llanbadem 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 Cretica.” To his memory, this Church, and formerly an episcopal see was founded; but the bishopric, as Roger Hovedon writes, “early declined, because the parishioners slew their pastor.” {100} 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, was 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 steep and treacherous bank, consisting of slate rock or laminac, I should imagine, near an 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 King 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 Canterbury, at the time of the Crusades, in the year 1188, and in the reign of King Richard I. The original arch being suspected to be in a ruinous condition, the present bridge was built over it, at the expense of the county, in the year 1753. The width of the chasm is estimated at about thirty feet.

Our Cicerone 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 of 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 tortured 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 are finely clothed with the richest vegetation to the loftiest summit.

Near the basin 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 imbowered among deep groves, and flashing at last into a fanlike form, the 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 found and sullen grave.”

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

HAVOD or HAFOD,

the celebrated seat of the late 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. “A Philosopher has said,” says a modern Tourist, “that the man, who makes two blades of grass grow, where only one grew before, is greater than the greatest hero. If this be true, Mr. Johnes must rank before all the conquerors of the world, as he has made the barren wilderness around him to smile, and converted the worthless heath into waving woods, luxuriant corn-fields, and pastures.” From October 1795, to April 1801, Mr. Johnes planted more than 2,065,000 trees; besides a great number of acres, that he sowed with acorns. Since this period the plantations have been extended on the same scale with equal spirit; from one to two hundred thousand trees being planted every year. 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 colonnade 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 Achilles in the River Styx, more particularly detains attention. We next passed through the Billiard-room, and were conducted to the top of the staircase, to admire two elegant paintings, the subjects taken from Captain 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 pen of Mr. Cumberland.

“Havod 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 pacé_, 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 waterfalls, 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
Apennines, 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 Fynache, 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,

‘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 coarse
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 parts 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 the untamed
streams, or indeed to invent any thing where nature, the great
mistress, has left all art behind.”

Such was the just description of Havod; but this magnificent mansion, with the costly furniture, plate, pictures, and above all to be regretted, the splendid library of scarce and valuable books, was consumed by fire, during the absence of the owner, on the 13th of March, 1807.

All that the most indefatigable industry could accomplish was done by Mr. Johnes, to replace the losses he had sustained; but the Welsh manuscripts, and many other valuable works and specimens of art here destroyed, no labour or money could restore. The actual pecuniary loss suffered by Mr. Johnes, over and above the 20,000_l._ he was insured, amounted to between 50 and 60,000_l._; but, like the destruction of the labours of Lord Mansfield and Dr. Priestley, no estimate can be put on the loss the proprietor and the world experienced, in thus rendering abortive forty years of study, research, and expenditure on literary valuables. Prior to the decease of Mr. Johnes, who did not long survive his loss, the exterior of the building was nearly restored to its former appearance; but the interior arrangement was considerably altered. He likewise again established a most sumptuous collection of books, &c. part of which, the Pesaro library, was on its way from Italy, having been purchased by Mr. Johnes prior to the conflagration: it comprises many very valuable books in the Spanish, French, and particularly the Italian language, rare editions of the classics, and almost all the productions of the Aldini press.—A minute description of the interior of Havod, prior to the fire, is given by Mr. Malkin, which is now particularly interesting. Unfortunately no catalogue of the books and manuscripts was ever taken, Mr. Johnes not having completed his collection.

THE GENIUS OF HAVOD.

Formal slaves of art, avaunt!
This is Nature’s secret haunt:
The Genius of the landscape, I
Guard it, with a jealous eye—
Guard it, that no footstep rude
Upon her privacy intrude.
Here, with mystic maze, her throne
Is girt, accessible to none:
But to the highly-honour’d few
To whom I deign to lend my clue;
And chief to him, who in this grove,
Devotes his life to share her love:
From whom she seeks no charms to hide,
For whom she throws her veil aside,
Instructing him to spread abroad
Scenes for Salvator—or for Claude.
Far, oh far hence, let Brown and Eames
Zig-zag their walks, and torture streams!
But let them not my dells profane,
Or violate my Naiad train:
Nor let their arrogance invade
My meanest Dryad’s secret shade,
And with fantastic knots disgrace
The native honours of the place—
Making the vet’ran oak give way,
Some spruce exotic to display:
Their petty labours he defy’d,
Who Taste and Nature would divide!

ANON.

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 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, {111} 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 Cadir 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 last 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. {112} 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. {114}

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. {116}

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 Mawdach 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 hare-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.” {119}

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 Idris. 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, 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.