Part 1
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PICTURESQUE VIEWS
ON THE
RIVER WYE.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
_Course of the RIVER WYE from its Source to its junction with the SEVERN below Chepstow._ ]
Picturesque Views ON THE RIVER WYE, FROM Its Source at Plinlimmon Hill, to its Junction WITH THE _SEVERN below CHEPSTOW_: WITH OBSERVATIONS ON THE PUBLIC BUILDINGS, AND OTHER WORKS OF ART, IN ITS VICINITY:
BY SAMUEL IRELAND,
AUTHOR OF
“A Picturesque Tour through Holland, Brabant, and part of France;”
AND,
Of “Picturesque Views on the Rivers Thames, Medway, Warwickshire Avon,” &c.
[Illustration]
=London:= PUBLISHED BY R. FAULDER, NEW BOND STREET; AND T. EGERTON, WHITEHALL.
1797.
PREFACE.
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Amongst the numerous rivers with which our Island is so richly ornamented and fertilized, the Wye, our present subject of investigation, though in no very widely extended course, and itself only a tributary stream, is yet in the production of the sublime, of the grand and majestic proudly eminent above its fellows. In a course of about eighty miles, the utmost distance it measures from its source, to its junction with the Severn, so various and such an interesting picturesque scenery is perhaps no where to be found, either in this or any other country.
Nature and Art have most happily combined in opening their richest stores to diversify and spread fertility, grandeur and beauty over the country through which it flows: for its environ is not less highly distinguished and dressed by the hand of art with castles, abbies, and villas beautifully seated on its banks, than it is itself favoured by nature, in the striking interchange of shoal and flood, wood and rock, meadow and precipice. With so much, and in so many various ways to allure and interest, it was not possible that all its charms could have escaped either the penetrating eye of Taste and Genius, or the pencil of the inquisitive, refined, and systematical Amateur, and accordingly many of its most striking features have employed the pens and the pencils of our Writers and Artists; but they have, all of them, been either detached views and single objects, or, if more has been comprehended in the design of the amateur or artist, the execution has been partial, imperfect, or foreign to the subject. The whole has never been fully exhibited to the eye of the lover of the scenes of nature faithfully delineated. One ingenious author indeed has given observations upon the river, and such as have unquestionably merited the high commendations they have received from the admirers of the picturesque and beautiful: and he has accompanied his observations with drawings. He does not however profess to give exact representations, or portraits of the various objects that present themselves, but aims rather at exhibiting their general effect on the eye, when considered technically, and as picturesque forms by the learned and professed artist.
Without interfering therefore with the plan of that much admired writer, or arrogating to himself superior science or knowledge of his subject, the author of this work has, in conformity with his original intention, selected this river from amongst those not yet described, in order to complete his history of the principal rivers of this country: and, unable as he feels himself to render justice to the dignity of his subject, he builds his claim to public favor, on the fidelity with which he flatters himself he has delineated the scenery. He would wish, and it is his aim, that his drawings should, like the transparent mirror of his stream, truly reflect the landscape that exists around, as well as the objects that decorate its banks. And, content with the simple charms and varieties of nature, he cannot prevail upon himself to contemplate in every winding of the stream the forms of his own idea, the image of his own mind and its complicated sameness, reflected again, and again; but gives to his reader that, which, if he visits the spot, he trusts he will find, and, if the spot is known to him already, he assures himself he will recognize.
The tremendous floods, which, in the beginning of the year 1795, subsequent to that, in which these drawings were made, having so completely swept away several ancient, as well as elegant structures thrown across this stream, may perhaps give some additional value to the sketches of them here introduced. If not elsewhere preserved, scarce a vestige of them remains to be resorted to by the artist or by the architect, whose profession must peculiarly enable him to do more justice to the nature of the fabric.
The History, and Picturesque Views of the River Severn are in great forwardness, and will, it is presumed, be ready for publication, in Two Volumes, Royal Octavo, in the course of next year.
[Illustration:
_S. Ireland del.^t_
_Source of the Wye, Plinlimmon Hill._
_Pub.^d for S. Ireland, March 1, 1797._ ]
Picturesque Views
ON THE
RIVER WYE.
[Illustration]
“Plinlimmon’s high praise no longer Muse defer; “What once the Druids told, how great those floods should bee, “That here (most mightie hill) derive themselves from thee. “The Bards with furie rapt, the British youth among, “Unto the charming harpe, thy future honor song “In brave and loftie straines:——” DRAYTON.
SECTION I.
From a small spring near the summit of Plinlimmon Hill, the boundary of the northern part of Cardiganshire, our river Wye derives its source. Issuing from a spacious hollow in this mountain, the water falls in a narrow streamlet several hundred yards nearly perpendicular, till meeting with various small currents, it soon presents itself in the shape of an immense cataract, rolling with astonishing rapidity over the rocky prominencies which seem to impede its course. The name of this river appears anciently to have been a common appellation, either for river or water. Camden says, that the word gwy or wy signifies water, and instances the following names which have that termination, as proofs of his opinion; viz. Lhugwy, Dowrdwy, Edwy, Conwy, Elwy, Towy, Tawy, &c. &c. From the same ridge of mountains, within two miles of the source of the Wye, the rivers Severn and Rydall derive their origin: the latter of which empties itself into the Irish sea at Aberystwith. The views from this huge and dreary hill are wild and extensive beyond description; they exhibit mountains, rolling as it were, over each other, and under the most sublime forms and beautiful hues, varying and shifting till they insensibly lose themselves and melt into the horizon. We were peculiarly fortunate in having a bright and clear day to view in all its grandeur this sublime and picturesque scenery; an advantage which an experienced guide informed us had scarce ever occurred during a course of many years in those airy regions, where it was almost invariably his fate to encounter a heavy and hazy atmosphere, commonly attended with rain. On this lofty mountain the famous Owen Glyndwr, in the summer of 1401, posted himself, says the historian, “with great policy at the head of a hundred and twenty men of arms.” The situation of Plinlimmon Hill being on the limits of Cardiganshire and Montgomeryshire, was admirably adapted for receiving the succours of his vassals and friends from every part of the principality. From this fastness his adherents, who were the terror of all that opposed him, were perpetually making excursions, and plundering the neighbouring counties; amongst which Montgomeryshire appears to have been the greatest sufferer.
The birth of this renowned hero, of Wales, which happened on the 28th of May, 1354, appears by Hollingshed and others, to have been marked with strange presages of celebrity: he says, that his cruelty was foretold at his nativity, by the wonderful circumstance of “his father’s horses being found standing that night in the stable up to their bellies in blood;” and Shakspeare, in the following lines, put into the mouth of Glyndwr, thus describes the vain glorious chieftain,
————————————“At my birth “The front of Heav’n was full of fiery shapes; “The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds “Were strangely clamorous in the frighted fields: “These signs have marked me extraordinary, “And all the courses of my life do shew, “I am not in the roll of common men.”
A still more extraordinary circumstance is attached to the history of this Welch phenomenon. Jolo Goch, a celebrated bard, has not hesitated to consider the great event of his birth, as equal in importance to mankind with that of Jesus Christ.
The river Wye, in this its earliest stage, is peculiarly marked with features of the grand and sublime: its amazing rapidity is perpetually interrupted by immense large stones and rocky substances, and the rush of its waters produces a solemn noise, that seems as if they were
“Chiding the stones that stopp’d their course.”
The spots of verdure and broken ground in the vicinity of this rude scene, the dark shades of rock, and beetling brows of the hills with which it is bounded on either side, form a spectacle as majestic and awful as the untaught imagination can paint, or that can present itself to the eye throughout the range of this island.
It is simple nature in her purest and grandest form, and without a trace of her handmaid art, without either castle, church, or ruin: objects that more than form the beautiful in picture, that are essentially necessary, and can alone give dignity to the feeble works of man; without these the scenery is here complete.
For several miles the country wears nearly the same aspect; one continued undulating line of hills forms the distance; and the river, though of no considerable width, continues gently to roll over its rocky and gravelly bed, “making sweet music with the enamelled stones;”
“Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge “He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.”
At a distance of about six miles from its source, in a village called Cumergar, the Wye receives a considerable body of water from the river Castal. This River is full in view, and forms a beautiful object from the road, on the way to what is called the Devil’s Bridge. At Cumergar is a wooden bridge called Pont-rhyd Gallad: it is the first that is thrown across this river, and the scenery around it is extensive and beautiful. The Wye here loses much of its impetuosity and consequently of its grandeur: its rocky bed is softened and in many places spread with a mere gravelly substance, and at this summer season is considerably narrowed, and frequently left perfectly dry. From the continual accession, however, of springs and rills, that issue from the neighbouring mountains, it is not known to remain long in that state. From hence, on an easy ascent, a tolerable road leading to Llanidlos runs parallel with the stream, and affords a beautiful ride till we approach the wretched village of Llangerig: amongst whose clay cottages without chimneys, churlish boors, and sour milk and black bread, the only refreshment it supplied, our weary spirits were filled with rapture at the beauties of that situation, to which extreme penury, savage nature, or insensibility could alone be indifferent: They were so impressive, that within a mile of this village we determined to stop, flattering ourselves with the hope that by the aid of the pencil, we might be enabled to give the characteristic features of a country, which we utterly despair by any powers of language that we could command in any adequate manner to communicate.
About three miles below Llangerig, in a southern direction, the river Darnel, which derives its source from the hills that bear its name, empties itself into the Wye. Pursuing the course of the river, the Nanerth rocks in an extent of near three miles, form a beautiful screen to its northern bank.
On this spot the Wye, in an easy bend, gently rolls over its rugged bed, while the ascending road, girting the immense hills that are enriched with spreading oaks and luxuriant underwood, peculiarly invited the pencil: Through these, the rocks in various fantastic forms, perpetually break upon the eye, and the cottages interspersed among the distant hills, relieve the wide-spread and extended scenery. On the brow of a rising hill, in the fore ground, a group of cattle which covered it, seemed at the instant, as if placed there by design to complete the view. Beneath, the gentle river Marteg, the receptacle of many smaller streams that arise in the vicinity of Llanidlos, rippling over its pebbly bed, loses its name and its current in the broader channel of the Wye.
SECTION II.
From Nanerth rocks, after a pleasant ride of about three miles on the bank of the Wye, we reached Rhaidr Gwy; the word Rhaidr signifies a cataract, or fall of water, and is frequently applied to those falls, among the mountains of Snowden in Carnarvonshire.
Camden seems to think that from the word Rhaidr, the county of Radnor, through the west angle of which, this river directs its course derived its name. The bridge at Rhaidr consists of one wide arch, which from its base forms a very large segment of a circle. It is a plain structure and has little but its romantic accompaniments to recommend it; the immense pile of rocks on which it is elevated, carries the arch so high as to afford from beneath it, an extensive prospect of the adjoining country, in which a small Welsh building called Cwmtather Church appears in a whimsical point of view. The annexed sketch was taken from below the bridge, where the combination of objects is wonderfully grand; and in this dry season, displays in full force the ponderous rocky substances of which it is composed. But in consequence of this drought, we had the misfortune to lose the display and thunder of its cataract, which a less friendly state of the elements would have exhibited in all its grandeur. The stones over which the waters in this vicinity roll, are of an immense size, and in their forms, partake both of the majestic, and the grotesque; their diversified hues, and vast angular prominencies afford in certain lights and in some seasons of the day, under the rays of a bright sun the most brilliant and picturesque effect. Over the bridge passes the high road that leads to Aberystwith, and a more rugged and dreary path, is perhaps scarce to be trod in any of the frequented parts of this principality. Rhaidr, though now but a miserable place, derived formerly some consequence from its castle, which was advantageously situated in a nook of the river not far from the bridge, but of which no trace at present remains. Near the spot whereon the castle stood is a deep trench cut out of a solid rock, and not far distant, are several large Tumuli, or Barrows, called in Welsh, Kern, and Keido. These are conjectured to have been raised as memorials of the dead. Camden confirms this idea, and observes, not very consistently indeed with the respect due to the memory of the departed, “that it is still the custom to cast heaps of stones on the graves of malefactors and self murderers.”
At what period the castle at Rhaidr was built is not ascertained, but it was repaired by Rhys Prince of South Wales in the reign of Richard the first, and near it says Camden, “is a vast wilderness rendered very dismal by many crooked ways and high mountains, into which as a proper place of refuge, that bane of his native country, King Vortigern, whose very memory the Britons curse, withdrew himself, when he had at last repented of his abominable wickedness, in calling in the English Saxons, and incestuously marrying his own daughter.”
His address to the Barons, on the subject of calling in the aid of the Saxons, is thus recorded by an anonymous author.
“My Lords, vain compliment would suit but ill “The present time, I therefore briefly thank you, “But e’er we part, fain would I crave your hearing. “Our Troops have now been long disus’d to War— “Yet do not think I mean their fame to tarnish, “Or on a Briton throw the damned slur “Of shameful cowardice. No, my good Lords,— “But though their ribs do serve as castle walls, “And fast imprison their strong Lion hearts, “Yet e’en the Lion, when full gorg’d with food “Will bask and tamely lay him down to sleep— “Then in such sort, hath undisturbed peace, “And want of custom, (nature’s substitute, “That changes e’en our very properties) “Soften’d their manhood. Then t’were policy “That we should court the Saxons to our aid! “This too will in our Britons raise the flame “Of bright and generous emulation. “Say Lords! doth this my proposition please you?
Below Rhaidr we soon lost sight of that immense rocky scenery, so eminently characterizing its neighborhood, and every reach of the river yielded additional richness and verdure. A detail of each minute change of prospect that occurs in a tour of this nature, however gratifying at the moment to the eye of the curious and picturesque traveller, would be tedious and uninteresting; it is therefore the business of description to record only the most material objects as they occur, and leave imagination to paint the rest. About three miles below Rhaidr, the Wye receives a considerable supply of water from the rivers Eland and Clanven, which unite at a distance of about four miles from their conflux with our river. Below this a copious stream called the Ither, which in its course receives the Dulas and Comar, makes a considerable addition to the waters of the Wye. From the brow of a hill about two miles before we reach the town of Builth, the scenery is peculiarly beautiful, the river spreads itself into a bay, and the immense rocky substances with which its bed has hitherto been spread, rise here in various detached forms many yards above its surface, exhibiting so many small islands, and agreeable breaks in the fore ground of the landscape.
The annexed view was sketched from this spot, in which it is much to be regretted that the bridge of Builth could not be introduced, as it would considerably have added to the beauty of the scenery. Builth is a town of little consequence, yet from its antiquity, and the salubrity of its air, it becomes highly deserving our attention. We happened to be there on a market day, when the town was so thronged with people, that we could scarcely pass through it. It resembled rather a fair than a market, and the immense croud collected together, presented to the eye a scene in effect, similar to that of one continued mass of long blue cloaks, apparently in perpetual motion. Not a house, nor a stable but was occupied, and it was really a matter of astonishment, that in so small a town, and on so common an occasion as that of a weekly market, such a vast concourse of people should have been assembled; but a market or fair, is the pride and glory of the Welsh; and, happy souls! why should they not in a sultry summer’s day, enjoy the suffocating luxury of a long blue cloak, as well as the Londoner his summer theatre, amidst “the raging dog star’s heat.”
In an extensive tour through Wales, I witnessed a scene at Aberystwith very similar to that I have just described, and as the surrounding objects were there more peculiarly marked with the picturesque than those at Builth, a representation of the scene, although at a considerable distance from hence, may perhaps not prove unacceptable to the reader. In this view appears part of the castellated dwelling of Uvedale Price, Esq.; a man not less distinguished for the elegance with which he cultivates the fine arts, than for his powers of discrimination, and the accuracy with which he defines them. The house is recently erected on the shore, and commands an extensive prospect of the sea, the only one in fact it does command.
At this market or fair, the usual artifices to amuse and delude, were exhibited with the usual success; other centuries revolve, and other generations arise, but rustic manners remain unchanged, the same pursuits occupy the mind, and the same toys interest and beguile. There were, “Ribbands of all the colors ith’ rainbow. Dancing and music, ballads all pitiful and true, one of a fish that appeared upon the coast, on Wednesday the of April, forty thousand fadom above water.” Autolicus with all his rhetoric could not more artfully have displayed his wares, nor could the following lines have had a better effect on his auditors than the tricks presented here.
“Lawn as white as driven snow, “Cyprus, black as e’er was crow; “Gloves as sweet as damask roses, “Masks for faces, and for noses; “Bugle bracelets, necklace amber, “Perfume for a lady’s chamber; “Golden quoifs, and stomachers, “For my lads to give their dears; “Pins and poking-sticks of steel, “What maids lack from head to heel: “Come, buy of me, come: come, buy, come, buy, “Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry: come buy.”
Builth is happily encompassed with a range of hills that afford shelter to the place, and screen the neighbouring woods with which it is enriched. On the skirt of the town stand the remains of an ancient castle; they comprise near four acres of ground, and though not sufficiently massed to form an object for the pencil, yet the remaining fragments convey a general idea of its former dignity.
The eminence which is contiguous to the remains of the fortress, denotes what the Romans called the Presidium. This castle is reported to have been erected by the Breoses and Mortimers, after the demolition of a former one by Rhys ap Gryffydh. Ptolomy calls the town of Builth, Bullæum Silurum, from whence it derived its name, but Doctor Horsely is inclined to think that the ancient Bullæum of Antoninus, was at Uske in Monmouthshire, from the ruins of a Roman fort, or city, being found there. The neighbourhood of that place is still called Bualht.