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.”