Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

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, and presenting at every step something to admire, we 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 Richarde 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 often-times great groans, and grievous stounds,
When too huge toil, and labour them constrains.
And often-times 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, {67a} supposed to have been erected about the time of William Rufus. A little farther on, the ivied-mantled walls of Carew Castle {67b} 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 Sherborne’s, 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 discernable till nearly on its edge,
called Penny’s and Adam’s Leap, over which these hunters were
precipitated: 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—

Hick 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, {74} 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. {75a}

“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. {75b} 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 seaport, 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 has 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 stands 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 the 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. {82a} 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.” {82b}

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 rude 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, {84} 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 was 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, have 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, {85a} Bishops Jorwerth 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. {85b} 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. {85c}

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.” {87}

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 understood it was thrown off its balance, by order of the farmer, to prevent the curious from trampling on his grounds. “A mile strait west from St. David’s, betwixt Portclais and Porthmaur,” {88} 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 {90} 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 Llewllyn, 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. {91} 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,