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 deep 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 Hat, 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 form 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 Tyrolese; 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, warmed 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 20,000l. he was insured, amounted to between 50 and 60,000l.; 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 Aldine 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 others still rising in the distant perspective: not even a house or tree appeared to interrupt the awfulness of the mountains, which, after the copious fall of rain in the night, teemed with innumerable cataracts. According to our directions, we enquired at the foot of Plinlimmon for Rhees Morgan, as a proper man to be our conductor over the heights of the “fruitful father of rivers.” This man being absent, the whole family appeared thunderstruck at our appearance, and ran with all haste imaginable into their miserable cot. One apartment served for the inhabitants of every description, with only one small hole to admit the light; the entrance unprotected by a door, but with a blanket as a substitute, was exposed to the pitiless blast of the winter’s storm.
“Ah! little think the gay licentious proud,
Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround:
They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth,
And wanton, often cruel, riot waste;
Ah! little think they while they dance along,
. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . how many drink the cup
Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread
Of misery. Sore pierced by wintry winds,
How many shrink into the sordid hut
Of cheerless poverty.”Thomson.
With some difficulty we prevailed on the female part of the family to give us proper directions to the source of the meandering Wye, [119] and rapid Severn. The latter they only understood by the name of Halfren, its original British name; it is likewise called in Latin, Sabrina. From the top of Plinlimmon we for the first time discovered the shaggy summit of Cader Idris, and the spiral head of Snowdon. “With respect to Plinlimmon mountain,” says Mr. Malkin, “it is inferior only to Snowdon and Cader Idris; if to the latter, in point of size and height. It takes its name from five beacons; many of which, if not all, still remain, and are seen at some distance. We may indeed compare Plinlimmon with those formidable personages of poetical creation, who walk with their feet upon the earth, and their heads in the region of the heavens.” There is nothing particularly engaging in the character of this mountain, except in its giving rise to no less than six or eight rivers, and, on this account, has frequently been celebrated by the Poet. Though its summit commands a circle of many miles diameter, yet the prospect by no means answered our expectations. We descended into a swampy bottom, which afforded us unpleasant walking for two or three miles, when a most delightful and well-cultivated valley unexpectedly enlivened our spirits. The sun was making
. . . . “a golden set,
And by the bright track of his fiery car
Gave signal of a goodly day to-morrow,”
just as we entered this interesting vale; the hay-makers, in the coolness of the evening, were returning to their homes,
“Each by the lass he loved.”
In short, the whole valley breathed delicious fragrance: add to this, innumerable cataracts rushed from the mountain’s summits, occasioned by the late copious rains.
From hence a good turnpike road soon conducted us to the romantic town of