THE CAMBRIAN TOURIST. (continued 2)

The view from Caermarthen over the Towy is beautiful, and not to be enjoyed any where to greater advantage than from the back rooms of the Ivy Bush inn, or the terrace walk in the garden. Its population is rated at between 7 and 8000, and its houses at about 1200. The market days are Saturday and Wednesday. It is 231 miles from London, by Bristol, and 216 by Gloucester.

The mail arrives from London at nine in the morning, and departs at two o’clock in the afternoon generally. I should feel it the height of ingratitude, if I had failed to notice the great attention paid to strangers who attend divine service at the church: not only are they immediately accommodated in comfortable pews, but prayer-books are supplied to them by the son of the clerk. In short, I witnessed a courtesy and attention to strangers, and a backwardness to receive remuneration, such as I never saw evinced at any other place.

The late Ivy Bush was the house of Sir Richard Steele, who obtained it and his property in this neighbourhood by marriage with the heiress of Jonathan Scurlock, Esq. After the death of his wife he retired to a small farm-house, called the White House, lying about a mile from Caermarthen, and there he wrote his celebrated comedy of the Conscious Lovers.

At some distance from Caermarthen are several very remarkable caves: whence Merlin is supposed to have delivered his oracles.

Of Merlin and his skill what region doth not hear? Who of a British nymph was gotten whilst she play’d With a seducing spirit.

Drayton Polyolbion, s. v.

Caermarthen gave birth to Merlin, who is styled, by an ancient author, “the sonne of a badde angell, or of an incubus spirit, the Britaine’s great Apollo, whom Geoffrey ap Arthur would ranke with the south-saying seer, or rather with the true prophets themselves; being none other than a mere seducer and phantastical wizard.” He flourished in the year 480.

Some few years after this tour, I took the road to Caermarthen from Ragland, through Crickhowel, Brecon, Llandovery, and Landilo. Passing through Abergavenny, we paused for a few days at Crickhowel, where we amused ourselves in fly-fishing in the river Usk.

Crickhowel stands in the centre of a vale, scarcely surpassed by that of the Towy; and is supposed to have been built in the time of Howel Dha, about the year 940. The castle presents little to attract attention. The church contains some few ancient monuments; but the principal objects for a traveller are to be found at a short distance from the town; viz. a remarkable cave south of Langattock; a waterfall in a dingle, leading to Llanelly iron-works; the remains of a castle, on what is called the Camp Hill; and the beautiful village of Lambeter, the walks of which are, of themselves, almost worthy a journey into Wales. The society around Crickhowel is highly respectable; but there are no noblemen’s seats, and only one park within the distance of many miles. The natural scenery, however, amply compensates.

From Crickhowel we proceeded to a village named Cwmdu, situated between two chains of mountains. The village is poor to the last degree, but the land is rich; and the valley, in which it is situated, may be called the granary of Brecknockshire. There is scarcely a field on the lower sides of the hills, that does not present a spot favourable to build upon. From the farm and house, called Cwmgû, is one of the most beautiful views in all Wales; commanding, as it does, the vale of Usk, the river winding through it, innumerable fields, a high mountain towards the north, the town of Crickhowel on the east; the ruins of Tretower below; a woody hill rising above it; and, from a field at a short distance from the house, the double head of the Beacons, towering, as it were, into the clouds.

Brecon, or Aber Honddu, is a very romantic town; with good inns, and every accommodation for a respectable family. The views around it are beautiful; the Priory groves, as a public walk, are the most delightful in all Wales, perhaps in Britain; while the castle, the priory, and other fragments of antiquity, afford ample materials for the contemplation of those who connect scenes with former events; for within the walls of the castle was planned the union of the two houses of York and Lancaster.

Passing through Trecastle, a miserable village, once a large town, possessing the ruins of a castle, we entered a valley, winding for six or eight miles at the feet of mountains, presenting at every step something to admire, and arrived at Llandovery, or Llanymddvri, situated on the banks of the Brane, near the head of the upper vale of Towy. Here we found the remains of a small castle, once in the possession of Richard de Pws; small in dimensions, and uninteresting in its history; but the town derives some notice from its having produced Rhys Prichard, author of a book well known in almost every Welsh house by the name of the Vicar’s Book. He sleeps here without inscription or monument.

From Llandovery, the road and the Towy proceed to Llandilo through a country at once rich in fertility, and beautiful in point of scenery. Llandilo is remarkable for a battle, fought in 1281, between Edward the First and Llewellyn the Great. It has no feature in itself worthy of attention; but its environs are beautiful to the last degree.

About a mile from this town, on the road to Caermarthen, are the ruins of Dinevawr Castle, the most celebrated spot in the principality. This castle was erected by Roderique the Great, in the year 877. So much have been written of these ruins, of the noble park, belonging to Lord Dynevor, and the country round, that I shall merely observe, that, after passing a few hours in admiration, we passed on to Grongar Hill, and sate beneath the hawthorn under which Dyer is supposed to have written his beautiful poem. I cannot, however, refrain from quoting a passage from Spenser, where he describes the Cave of Merlin, which he places near the rocks of Dinevawr.

If thou shouldst ever happen that same way To travel, go to see that dreadful place: It is a hideous, hollow, cave-like bay Under a rock, that has a little space From the swift Barry, tumbling down apace, Amongst the woody hills of Dinevawr. But dare thou not, I charge, in any case To enter into that same baleful bower, For fear the cruel fiends should thee unawares devour.

But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear; And there such ghastly noise of iron chains, And brasen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, Which thousand sprights with long enduring pains Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains. And oftentimes great groans, and grievous sounds, When too huge toil and labour them constrains. And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds.

Faerie Queene, B. iii. Cant. 3.

The view from Grongar Hill is inexpressibly beautiful. To attempt describing it would only be showing the poverty of human language.

From this spot the road winds to Caermarthen with many a graceful curve, through a country presenting a multitude of objects for the pencil of an accomplished painter.

The regular road to Tenby is by St. Clears, nine miles one quarter: Cold Blow, ten miles seven furlongs; left to Tenby, eight miles and a quarter; at St. Clears is the Blue Boar, and at Cold Blow the Windsor Castle; but, should the Tourist prefer the coast to the regular road, I should recommend him to visit Llanstaphan castle, at the mouth of the Towy; a large and venerable ruin, memorable for the siege it sustained about the middle of the twelfth century, when defended by Meredith ap Gruffydd, who defeated all the attacks of the Normans, &c. who besieged it. The village, which is now resorted to for sea-bathing, is situate at the bottom of the hill. At high water there is a ferry to the village on the opposite side: at low water, at particular periods, the sands may be crossed on horseback; but strangers should not attempt this without a guide. From Llanstaphan the Tourist may proceed by Llaugharne, Green Bridge, &c.

From Caermarthen we were recommended to go to

LLAUGHARNE,

in order to see the castle; but it by no means answered our expectation: little part of it now remains; and the neat gravel walk in the garden is ill adapted for the mutilated walls of an ancient ruin. From the neighbouring heights, grand and extensive sea-prospects interest the traveller. At this place was born the once-celebrated Dean Tucker. One mile distant is another ruin, called Rock Castle, but supposed to have been a monastery. About five miles from Llaugharne, we passed a small place, called

GREEN BRIDGE.

It derives its name from an excavation in the rock, through which a little rivulet runs for a mile and a half. This cavity is completely concealed from the road, and impossible to be discovered, unless pointed out. But I would advise travellers to alter their route from Swansea, and pursue the straight road to Caermarthen, by Pontarddylais, where is a comfortable inn, and so to Tenby, by Narbeth. By these means they escape the unpleasant roads (and almost, indeed, inaccessible for carriages), leading from Oystermouth to Cheriton, and likewise from Llaugharne to Tenby. But should the Tourist be led by an invincible curiosity to inspect the ruins of Kidwelly Castle, it may easily be accomplished, by pursuing the turnpike road to Kidwelly, and from thence to Caermarthen. In this last route you only omit visiting the seat of Mr. Talbot, of Penrice, though an object highly worthy of inspection.

At Saunders’ Foot is a small bay, formed on one side by a rock, called the Monkstone, and on the other by the Caermarthenshire coast. Near this place is situate the seat of Captain Ackland; and from thence to Tenby, the dark lowering rocks rose perpendicularly to a considerable height, and then branched out into overhanging crags. It was now dusk;—and at this transforming hour, the bold promontories became shaded with unreal glooms,—the projecting cliffs assumed a more terrific aspect,—and the wild overhanging underwood

“Waved to the gale in hoarser murmurs.”

TENBY

is much resorted to during the summer months for bathing. It stands on a rock facing Caermarthen Bay: the bold promontory of the Monkstone Head to the north, and St. Catherine’s Point to the south, form a fine amphitheatre. The shore is well adapted for bathing; the machines excellent; and a singular rock, rising in the sea close to the shore, shelters the bathing machines even in the most boisterous weather. On the south of Tenby, at the extremity of the small island of St. Catherine’s, attainable at low-water, are the remains of a Roman Catholic chapel. Entirely through this island is a singular perforation, which, without any difficulty, may be penetrated at the reflux of the tide. The views from the south sands are remarkably beautiful; the character of the rocks is here awfully wild, craggy, and impending; and the distant fishing-boats, with their white sails, and the voices of the fishermen, who constantly frequent this coast, borne at intervals on the air, are circumstances which animate the scene: whilst the islands of Caldy and St. Margaret’s opportunely rise, to render the terrific ocean beautiful. The retrospect is equally interesting; the neat town of Tenby, with the mutilated walls of its castle, closes this charming scene.

The ancient walls of Tenby are still sufficiently perfect to show its former strength and extent; and the four round towers, standing on the extremity of the rock, point out the situation of its castle. Near this is a ruinous building, supposed to be the remains of a Flemish manufactory, probably woollen. On the north sands is likewise another walk, equally beautiful, commanding the whole extent of Caermarthen Bay. On the summit of the rocks, over these sands, is the walk called the Croft.

Tenby is greatly indebted to Sir William Paxton for his exertions in improving it. The inconvenience it so long laboured under from want of water has been, through his means, completely removed, and that most necessary article of life is now enjoyed by its inhabitants in great purity and profusion.

From the general high state of perfection and transparent clearness of the sea-water at Tenby, it has become a place of that fashionable resort, that both hot and cold sea-water baths became requisite for the comfort and infirmities of its numerous genteel visitors: these Sir William has likewise caused to be erected on the most convenient plans, with extensive reservoirs, dressing, and lounging-rooms, &c. under the superintendence of Mr. Cockerell. The bath-house is beautifully situated outside the harbour, adjoining the Castle Hill: an excellent carriage-road leads to it; and a large vestibule is allotted for servants to wait in: lodgings and refreshments are likewise provided for such as require them. The dressing-rooms for the warm and vapour baths are raised to any temperature by warm air; and there is a cupping-room, provided with all necessary apparatus, for such as require that operation.

The principal inns and hotels are Shaw’s, Jenkins’s, the Lion and the Bull; there is a theatre, bowling-green, assemblies, billiard-rooms, library, &c. &c. Horses are to be hired: and both rides and walks, in the vicinity, are beautiful and abundant.

This place, from the vast quantity of fish caught near the coast, is called Tenby-y-Piscoid. The Church of Tenby is a large, handsome, and antique edifice, and contains several monuments, bearing an ancient date, worthy of notice. On the left of the altar is one to William Risam, with the following inscription.

Two hundred pounds And 50 more He gave this towne to help the poore.

The use of one on cloth and coles bestowe For twelve decrepid mean and lowe.

Let 50 pounds to five Be yearly lent The other’s use on Burges’ sonne’s be spent.

On the same side is a monument to the memory of John Moore, Esq., who, at the age of fifty-eight, and having by his first wife six sons and ten daughters, fell desperately in love, which not being returned, he died of a consumption at Tenby. The following epitaph is very allusive to his unfortunate catastrophe:

He that from home for love was hither brought, Is now brought home, this God for him hath wrought.

Another monument to Morgan Williams:

Igne probatur En animus rursus clare in corpore Morgan Williams, descended from the heiress of Robert Ferrar, Bishop of St. David’s, Burnt alive by bigots under Q. Mary; was lately chief of Gargam, and senior in council at Madras. Where Oct. 27, 1690, aged 49 years, he resign’d the President’s chair and his breath together. An employment of full thirty years chronicles the continual approbation of his conduct, particularly as chief commissioner of the circuit.

To the south of Tenby are some insulated rocks, in which are many curious excavations, and several islands, the principal of which is Caldy Island, consisting of about 600 acres, 200 of which are in a state of cultivation. The tower of its ancient priory is still standing.

If the Tourist has leisure and opportunity, many excursions may be made during his stay at Tenby. The first and most important is, to Pembroke and Milford Haven. The road affords many grand and extensive sea views, with a faint prospect of Lundy Isle. About four miles from Tenby stand the ruins of Mannorbeer castle, [72a] supposed to have been erected about the time of William Rufus. A little farther on, the ivy-mantled walls of Carew Castle [72b] burst upon us; and, about three miles from Pembroke, the decayed and broken walls of Llanfeth, or Lantphey Castle, attracted our notice, once the residence of the Bishops of St. David’s, but now a monument of desolation. The three buildings of Swansea Castle; Lantphey Court; and King John’s Hall, St. David’s; are very similar in their workmanship. We now arrived at

PEMBROKE.

Mr. Wyndham has so minutely delineated the present state of this castle, that I cannot do better than transcribe his account:

“The approach to Pembroke from the river shows the town and castle to the most beautiful advantage. The town is situated upon the ridge of a long and narrow rock, gradually ascending to the highest point, on which stands the castle, at the brink of the precipice. If I may compare small things with great, it much resembles the situation of Edinburgh.

“The castle is of Norman architecture, mixed with early Gothic. The principal tower, which is uncommonly high and perfect, has even its stone vaulted roof remaining. The walls of this tower are fourteen feet in thickness, the diameter of the space within is twenty-five, and the height, from the ground to the crown of the dome, is seventy-five feet; but visible marks appear within, that its height was originally divided by four floors.

“King Henry VII. was born in the present castle. The natural cavern, called the Wogan, lies immediately under the chapel, and opens with a wide mouth towards the river. A communication from the cavern to the castle was made by a staircase, on the outside of the rock; the entrance was barricaded with a strong wall, partly remaining, through which there is now a large door-way opened to the shore of the river. The cavern appears nearly circular; its diameter is fifty-three feet, and its height is proportionable to the diameter.

“In the civil war this castle was a garrison for the crown; and, being besieged, made a gallant defence.” In a cavern under this castle is a remarkable echo.

Pembroke is by many still considered the next town, in South Wales, to Caermarthen; but, although the situation is fine, and the main street good, still the residue of the town shows evident symptoms of decay, and that it lacks that trade and notice which Haverfordwest is deriving from its downfall. It gives the title of Earl to the Herbert family.

The two churches within the walls are ancient. St. Michael’s is of Norman architecture; it is at the east end of the town: St. Mary’s in the centre of it. The priory church has its nave vaulted with stone; it is paved with glazed bricks, with arms, flowers, &c. upon them. Near the church is the prior’s mansion, which still exhibits proofs of its former splendour and the large establishment of its possessors: it is now become a humble dilapidated farm-house; and, to trace its origin, you must go to the foundation. In 1811 Pembroke contained 501 houses, and a population of 2415 persons. From hence is a pleasant excursion, the account of which, as given by Mr. Fenton, in his work on Pembrokeshire, I subjoin:—

“Quitting the magnificent ruins of Pembroke, pass through Monkton, from the height of which an admirable view may be attained; reach Dry Burrows, a furzy moor, covered with tumuli. To the left stands Orielton. Here, turn to the right, passing Castleton, still you will observe various tumuli: from this height to the right, the navigation from Pennarmouth to the town of Pembroke. The coast here is famous for oysters of superior excellence, in inexhaustible quantities. Descend by Hênllan, anciently inhabited by the descendants of Gwynfard Dyfed: hence to Pwllcrochon church-yard, upon a small creek of Milford Haven, in which a memorable skirmish took place between the king’s and parliament’s forces. The parish church of Rhôscrowther is dignified with a handsome tower, and the interior contains some figures well sculptured: distant a quarter of a mile stands Iestingtown, or vulgarly Iseston, long the residence of the family of Meares; it appears to have been castellated. Not far from the church is a well, called St. Degmen’s, to which great virtues have been ascribed. Skirting the Bay of Nangle, reach the village of that name, so called from being somewhat placed in angulo. It bears marks of former consequence: in the church is a monument to Brigadier Ferrars. To the north of a brook, running behind the church-yard, are the remains of a considerable building, with a square tower, called the castle, said to have been the principal residence of the Sherbones, ancient Lords of the Vill; it is now an inn. Hence along the coast is a block-house, a singular building, reared upon the very edge of a horrid precipice overhanging the sea, fronting another upon the dale side of Milford. The masonry of these buildings is excellent; their origin is uncertain. Leaving Bangeston on the left, after passing over a sandy tract, you reach the village of Castle Martin, an ancient British post, part of the works of which are still remaining. A little further is Merion Court, belonging to Lord Cawdor; and, near to the village, to the north-east, a British circular camp. The road now passes the extremity of Lord Cawdor’s property at Brawnslade, farmed on the most improved principles. Still further along the coast is Bully Bear, where are the remains of a fortified camp. Hence to Linney Point, and the Head of Man, a promontory of great height, awfully overhanging its base: near this, a fine view of an insulated rock, called Pennyholt Stock, pass the Wash to a Danish camp; in which is that wonderful chasm called the Caldron: the entrance to the camp is by a winding ascent; it has been of considerable extent and great strength; and, with the Caldron and rock, most curious and worthy of observation. Bosherton Meer is occasionally agitated to such an extent as to be heard at a considerable distance—resembling thunder, and its foam rising many feet above the mouth of the pit. At a short distance to the east, is a fissure in the cliffs not discernible till nearly on its edge, called Penny’s and Adam’s Leap, over which these hunters were precipitated: thence you proceed to the Horse Block, and St. Govan’s Chapel and Well, to the latter of which great virtues are ascribed. The surrounding scenery is in the highest degree picturesque: the larger bay is surrounded by cliffs, in the form of an amphitheatre; that in which the hermitage is placed is truly romantic. In proceeding to Stackpool Court, after again gaining the height, you pass Buckspool, and from thence to Bosherton; below the village, pass under a tongue of land, on which are the remains of a strong encampment; near this is a small cavern, in the Limestone Rock, where human bones have been found. Harold is said to have infested this coast, and to have left marks of his predatory victories inscribed—

Hic Haroldus victor fuit.

Of three stones, the most east stands in Stackpool Park Warren, pitched upon one end; the second, surmounting a carnedd, is in a field called Horsestone Park, consisting of a great mass of limestone, six feet above the ground, five in breadth, and a foot in thickness; it is bedded in an almost circular mound of stones. The third stone is upon the same line, but more west; it is the tallest, almost incrusted with a minute lichen.”

Stackpool Court (from the broad rock at the mouth of Broad Haven) is the elegant seat of Lord Cawdor. It is on the west side of the pool, on a fine eminence, at the edge of a bold declivity. It bore originally a castellated form, but lost its ancient baronial character. In the civil wars it was fortified and garrisoned for the king. The walls were so strong, that the ordnance made little impression. The present mansion, which occupies the same site, is of wrought limestone; its architecture is heavy. Lady Cawdor has contributed to Mr. Fenton’s Tour, from her own pencil, a charming view of this vicinity, taken near the bridge, in crossing from the house to the park. The house has two fronts, the principal one facing the pleasure-ground, the other opening to a fine piece of water. You enter the latter front from a broad terrace, extending to the whole length; and, after descending, it continues to the extent of a spacious conservatory. The house is formed into many fine apartments, and the library is large. In one room, containing family pictures, is a whole length of Lord Cawdor, by Sir J. Reynolds, and another of Lady Cawdor, by Sir W. Beechey. The offices are well arranged, and the stables form a detached large quadrangular building. Of Stackpool, says Mr. Fenton, without straining a compliment, there are few places which display more magnificence without, or more sumptuous hospitality and elegant comforts within. But, to sum up the importance of this place, be it known that it stands in the midst of a property of fifteen thousand acres of most valuable land! Opposite is the park, well stocked with deer, deformed by some barren sand-banks, and at present deficient in wood. The borders of the lake and the pleasure-grounds are, however, richly wooded. Between the park and the sea there is a warren, formed of mountains of sand, and consolidated by that valuable plant môrhesg (juncus maritimus), sea or mat rushes. The lake is abundantly stocked with wild fowl, which collect at a call, and consent to be fed like barn-door poultry.

Passing along the park, enter the pleasant village of Stackpool, where the ancient lords’ vassals resided: hence descend to a vale on the right, where a private gate leads through a woody avenue to the church of Chereton, or Stackpool Elidur, so named from its founder. It stands at the head of a sequestered dell; is a plain building, with a tower; consists of a nave and chancel, having two small aisles on the south side. On the north side of the chancel, under a wrought canopy of stone, lies a cross-legged knight, said to represent Elidur de Stackpool, the first possessor of Stackpool; the same whom Giraldus mentions, who took the cross at the time that Archbishop Baldwin made his transit through the country. Ascend to St. Petroc’s, a rectory in the gift of Lord Cawdor: the church is small, but very light and neat. The only conspicuous monument is a handsome mural marble tablet, to a Lady Jane Mansell, wife first of Sir Roger Lort, and afterwards Sir Edward Mansell, of Muddlescombe, Bart. in the county of Caermarthen. The rectors of this place have been observed to live to a great age.

At a short distance from Stackpool stands the chapel of St. Gowen, situated in a fine amphitheatre of rocks, rising immediately over the sea. In respect to this scene, the Author of the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature, thus expresses himself:—“As for you, my Lelius, never shall I forget your enthusiasm, when we visited the chapel of St. Gowen, situated among those stupendous rocks, which, forming a semicircular area towards the sea, commands a noble prospect of the coast of Devon. The language you employed on that interesting occasion, never can I be so base as to forget! ‘If our prayers are at one time more acceptable than at another, it must assuredly be in those moments when our souls are elevated by such scenery as this! Often have I been awed to devotion at Rome and at Loretto, in the presence of Canons, Bishops, and Cardinals; but here, in the rude simplicity of nature, I feel my spirit separate, as it were, from the tenement which has so long chained it to the earth, and wing its course directly up to heaven! The magnificent area, in which this small chapel is situated, is a temple more sublimely grand and affecting than all the mosques of Turkey, and all the cathedrals of France, Italy, or Spain.’”

At Pembroke we hired a boat, [80a] intending to sail round the extensive Haven of Milford; and, as we retired from the shore, we took a retrospect of the dilapidated walls of the castle, once the terror, and even in ruins, the pride of the scene. It is most advisable to make this excursion at high water, as it adds much to the picturesque scenery of the tout ensemble.

MILFORD HAVEN,

is justly compared to “an immense lake; for, the mouth not being at any distance visible, the whole haven seems land-locked. Though it is a mile and three quarters wide, it could not be defended against an enemy, nor is there a sufficiency of timber in the neighbourhood. [80b]

“This haven is formed by a great advance of the sea into the land, it being above ten miles from the southernmost point at Nangle to Pembroke, beyond which the tide comes up to and beyond Carew Castle. It is capable of holding the whole navy of England; and the same is said of Cork Harbour. [80c] The spring tides rise thirty-six feet, the neap above twenty-six. Ships may be out of this haven in an hour’s time; and in eight or ten hours over at Ireland, or the Land’s End; and this with almost any wind, by day or night.”

“In surveying the estuary of Milford Haven,” says a writer, whom we shall frequently have occasion to quote, “expanding into one of the finest harbours in all Europe, and wearing the appearance of an immense lake, sufficiently large to contain the entire navy of the British Crown, secure from winds and tempests, and where a large fleet might manœuvre with the greatest safety,—what ideas of power and magnificence are awakened in the mind! Then by a magic glance we traverse the tempestuous Channel to the Irish coast, and call to mind the various crimes and injuries which that ill-fated country has committed and received. Returning to the spot whence we had travelled, beholding the creeks and bays, the woods, and various agreeable accompaniments, which embellish this majestic estuary; who is there that does not derive the highest satisfaction in recalling to memory the beautiful scene in Cymbeline, where Imogen, in the character of Fidele, has flowers sprinkled over her grave, and a solemn dirge performed in honour of her memory?”

Our reception at the miserable place of

HUBBERSTON

did not induce us to stay longer than was sufficient to recruit ourselves. We found the dirty inn pre-occupied by unfortunate Irish refugees: their situation was indeed melancholy; driven from their country, their friends, and all most dear to them!—And wishing to forget their past sufferings, the following lines seem applicable to their situation:

“Oh! could oblivion’s friendly draught Soothe all our sorrows to repose; Nor that intruder, restless thought, Renew our agonizing woes!

“Then, all unconscious of the past, The present hour might calmly glide; Keen retrospect no more be cast O’er life’s tempestuous, changeful tide:

“Yet Heaven, to all its creatures kind, With peace can gild the deepest gloom; And, ’mid misfortune’s wrecks, the mind May sweet serenity assume.”

Having refreshed ourselves, we walked to

MILFORD,

a small village, opposite Hubberston: several comfortable houses are situated on the hill, commanding a delightful view of the haven. Such was Milford when originally described in this work: but it now ranks as a town of some consequence in Wales. The haven, from its extent and safety, held forth such great inducements to improve the vicinity, and gradually to raise it into consequence as a sea-port, that the Right Hon. Charles Greville, whose property it became on the death of Sir W. Hamilton, obtained an Act of Parliament for the building of the town, and the privileges it was to enjoy. After having selected the situation, which is one of the finest parts of the haven, Mr. G. laid down the ground-plan of the streets: the principal ones run in parallel lines east and west, and in the direction of the shore, with short streets of communication intersecting them at right angles. The houses are generally good, and many calculated for the residence of opulent families.

The church is near the haven, at the east end of the lowest street. The windows contain the arms of Hamilton, Barlow, and Greville. The tower, at the west end of the edifice, is very conspicuous in sailing up the haven. The custom-house is at the lower end of the town, by the water side. The dock-yards are immediately in front of the town: they are calculated for the building of line-of-battle ships, as well as frigates: it was formed after a plan by Lord Spencer. Packets are stationed here under excellent regulations, for the conveyance of the mails and passengers to Waterford.

The mail from London arrives here every evening, and departs in the morning. Markets are held on Tuesdays and Saturdays.

To the west of Milford is Priory Pill, on the opposite bank of which is Haking, or Old Milford. Wet docks were about to be established on this creek, but the design was abandoned. Between Haking and Hubberstone is the observatory and mathematical school. Being satisfied with our day’s excursion, we again returned to our comfortable quarters at Tenby, 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 mark’d 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, once the residence of the famous Sir Rhys ap Thomas, 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, was 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.

The village of Carew is poor: there is, by the side of the road, a cross, fashioned out of a single stone, fourteen feet high, and carved all over.

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.

Mr. Fenton’s description of this noble spot is so correct and energetic, that I shall, in justice to him, as well as to Picton, here insert it. “Picton castle owes its beauties to circumstances that wealth cannot supply, or titles confer; circumstances that age, and an unbroken line of ancestry in its possessors, have given value to, and have made venerable; an ancient structure, that nothing can so much disfigure as an attempt to modernize, and make less so;—a castle (and I believe a solitary instance) never forfeited, never deserted, never vacant; and that never knew a melancholy blank in its want of a master; from whose walls hospitality was never exiled, and whose governors might be said to have been hereditary; a castle in the midst of possessions and forests coeval with itself, and proudly looking down over a spacious domain, on woods of every after-growth, to an inland sea, bounding its property and its prospects beyond them; for such is Picton Castle.”

The ground plan occupies an oblong area, having three large projecting bastions on each side. At the east end was the grand gate, with a portcullis between two similar bastions: this, without any injury to the general aspect, has yielded to a modern entrance, as have the moat and drawbridge, to a terrace, with an open parapet: the additions at the west end are not so fortunate: they injure the appearance, but add to the comforts of the castle, as a modern residence; affording Lord Milford more ample scope for that noble hospitality which he so liberally exercises according to the usage of his ancestors.

Lord Milford possesses a fine cabinet of drawings by eminent masters, collected in Italy by Sir Erasmus Phillips, his uncle. The park is well wooded, but destitute of deer. The gardens, forcing-houses, &c. &c. are very extensive, and in high order.

A beautiful walk, which passes near the old encampment, called Castle Lake, leads to Slebech, an ancient commandery of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, but neither trace nor vestige of the old commandery are now to be found. The church is ancient and respectable, but not large; it contains two figures in alabaster, believed to be of the Barlow family.

Returning again to Picton, at the extremity of the park, a good turnpike road soon conducted us to

HAVERFORDWEST,

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 gaol.

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 a rich drapery of ivy.

The castle, which was built by Gilbert de Clare, first Earl of Pembroke, was a strong edifice; but the keep now only remains; and that has been converted into a gaol. From its elevated situation, it has a commanding appearance, and an air of ruined grandeur, more interesting than the proudest modern edifice can boast.

Haverford is called by the Welsh Hwlfordh. [88a] Having finished our survey of Haverford, we started early the next morning, proposing 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. I 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.” [88b]

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. DAVID’S,

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 true landscape. About half way between Newgin and St. David’s, 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, [90] the national saint of Wales, with the consent of King Arthur, is said to have removed the metropolitan see from Caerleon to Menevia, which has ever since been called Ty Dewi by the Welsh, and St. David by the English. What were the condition and extent of this town formerly it 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 King Henry II.; or, as Willis, in the year 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 King Henry VIII., as a kind of presbytery, between the choir and Lady Chapel. In the last, whose roof, as well as those of the aisles of the choir and transepts, has been down ever since the civil war, are monuments of 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, [91a] Bishops Jorweth and Anselm, in the thirteenth century, and Edmund, Earl of Richmond, father of King Henry VII. This last monument is said to have prevented King 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 in 1213. [91b] On the north side of the church are some walls of St. Mary’s College, founded by Bishop Houghton, and John of Gaunt, in 1365, valued at one hundred and six pounds per annum. [91c]

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 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 its original splendor; when the long aisles of the chapel were only responsive to the solemn, slow-breathed chant. 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.

According to Le Neve, Dubritius, Archbishop of Caerleon, is called by this title, as Archbishop of Wales, at the first establishment of the Christian religion in the British islands. Godwin fixes no time of his coming in, but only says, that he, waxing old, resigned his see to David, a disciple of his; that he died, and was buried in the isle of Bardsee, Nov. 14, 522.

David removed the see, as before stated, from Caerleon to Menevia; and, by the time Godwin allows him to sit, viz. sixty-five years, and to die in 642, we may suppose he came in in 577. It is said he lived to a great age, viz. 146 years; and, dying in 642, as is aforesaid, was buried in the cathedral which himself had caused to be built; and his successors shewed so great a respect to his memory, as to call the see by his name, which it still retains, they for a long time afterwards styling themselves Archbishops of St. David’s; of these (including David) there were twenty-five, with Sampson, who, by reason of a contagious sickness in his diocese, retiring into Bretagne, and taking his pall with him, his successors, either for want of that, or by some other occasion, lost their title of Archbishop; but yet for several years they held the archiepiscopal power of consecrating bishops, which was exercised under twenty-two of them, down to Bishop Bernard, who was consecrated in 1115. He, by command of King Henry I., resigned this power to the see of Canterbury. From this period, down to the time of Bishop Vaughan, it had many benefactors; amongst whom, as most prominent, stand the names of Peter de Leia, Bishops Gervase, Beck, Martin, Gower, and Vaughan.

“During this interval,” says Mr. Rees, “St. David’s acquired the highest celebrity; and the shrine of the founder was resorted to by the greatest monarchs of the age. In the list of these royal visitors are to be included the names of William the Conqueror, who made his pilgrimage in 1079; King Henry the Second, who honoured Bishop David Fitzgerald with his company in 1171; and King Edward the First, and Eleanor his queen, who made their pilgrimage in 1284, when Bishop Beck held the see. The pilgrims of inferior rank who resorted here were innumerable, and their offerings served greatly to enrich the ecclesiastics, who spared no pains to enhance the merit of the penance, by which the poor votaries thus soothed their consciences, and emptied their pockets.” [94]

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

In this now dilapidated city was born Asserius, Bishop of Sherbourne, who wrote a life of King Alfred, and is supposed to have been instrumental in inducing that Prince to found the University of Oxford.

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 shaken 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 understand it was thrown off its balance, by order of the farmer, to prevent the curious from trampling on his grounds. “A mile straight west from St. David’s, betwixt Portclais and Porthmaur,” [95] 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. It has undergone many changes from the continual wearing of the waves. There is a tradition, that the embarkation for Ireland anciently took place at Ramsey; but sailors doubt the truth of this circumstance, from the circumstances of the tides. Our walk from St. David’s 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 the year 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 all the 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 [96] 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 conveniences: 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 relics 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. [98] 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 conveys only 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 are rounded at the corners; and, after the labours of the day, are conveyed on their backs to the little cots of the fishermen, being 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 Kilgerran 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 Kilgerran: this our humble and less encumbered mode of travelling rendered unnecessary.

Near Kilgerran are Castle Maelgyn, and Pentre, the seat of Dr. Davies; both handsome modern mansions, surrounded by pleasing gardens and plantations.

At Lechryd, 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 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, [101] 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. [102] 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 is 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. [104]

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 enclosed by high mountains on each side, vegetating to their summits; indeed, all the tints of verdure and diversity of foliage here introduced 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.” [107] As we draw 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 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

MACHYNLLETH,

considered as the centre of the woollen manufactory in this part of the country, principally of the strong cloth, or high country cloth. [121] 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. [123]

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. [124]

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 Mawdech 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 hair-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.” [128]