Pont-y-Mynach, or Pont-ar-Fynach, vulgarly the Devil’s Bridge, near the Havod Arms inn, is a single arch, about 30 feet in the chord, thrown over another arch of less than 20 feet, which spans a dark and tremendous chasm. The under arch is said to have been thrown across by the monks of Ystrad Florida Abbey, about the year 1087; but the country people, thinking so bold an effort above the reach of those ghostly fathers, ascribed it to his Satanic Majesty. The present bridge was built in 1753, at the expense of the county, over the original, which was left standing; and the railings were put up in 1814, by Mr. Johnes, of Havod. It is a most romantic and extraordinary structure.
The scenery in this neighbourhood is inexpressibly grand and sublime—what Byron would call, “a blending of all beauties;” a combination of all those lovely charms and impressive wonders, which Nature has scattered with such exuberant prodigality throughout the mountains and valleys of Wales.
The Havod Arms inn stands on a most interesting site in this locality, and affords excellent accommodation to tourists.
Few persons, whether from North or South Wales, who visit the falls of Pont-y-Mynach, but will be desirous of seeing the celebrated seat of the late Mr. Johnes, at
Havod,
Which is about four miles distant. The mansion was built, and the estate laid out in its present paradisaical state of loveliness, by the late Mr. Johnes, of whom it has been truly said, he 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 built of Portland stone, in a somewhat novel mode of architecture, from designs by Mr. Baldwyn of Bath; it combines the distinguishing features of the Moorish and Gothic styles, with turrets and painted windows. It is situated near the banks of the river Ystwyth, and beautifully environed by lofty hills, clothed with oak. The interior of the house corresponds in elegance with the exterior.
A correct idea of the enchanting beauties of the scenery has been left on record by the elegant 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 Ystwyth, where it flows broadest through this delicious vale, we see hothouses 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 Appennines, 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 concentrated 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 wonderful picturesque beauty; Downton Castle has a deliciously wooded vale, most tastefully managed; Llangollen is brilliant; the banks of the Conway savagely grand; Barmouth romantically rural; the great Pistyll-y-Rhaiadr is horribly wild; Rhaiadr-y-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, the deep dingles, and mighty woody slopes, which, from a different source, conduct the Rheidiol’s never-failing waters from Plinlimmon, and the Mynach, 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—