[Illustration]
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.
[Illustration]
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.