Part 3

“Wav’d 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 shew 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_: on this eminence is situated the Hotel kept by Mr. Shaw; the accommodations are very good: the charges _per_ week are eighteen shillings board, finding your own tea, sugar, wine, and porter; six shillings for a bed-room, and at the same rate a private parlour.

This place, from the vast quantity of fish caught near the coast is called _Tenby-y-Piscoid_.

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, supposed to have been erected about the time of William Rufus. A little farther on, the ivy-mantled walls of Carew Castle {39} 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 (says this Author) to Pembroke from the River, shews 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 heighth, from the ground to the crown of the dome, is seventy-five feet; but visible marks appear within, that its heighth was originally divided by four floors.

“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 stair-case, 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.”

At Pembroke we hired a boat, {41} 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. {42a} 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. {42b} 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 at the Land’s End, and this with almost any wind, by day or night.” 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! cou’d oblivion’s friendly draught Sooth 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. 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 marked 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, 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, were 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.

In the Farm-yard, adjoining the Church, which has a lofty square Tower, is a dilapidated stone-building, called the Parsonage.

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. It is now occupied by Lord Milford, and rendered a very comfortable summer residence. At the extremity of the Park, a good turnpike-road soon conducted us to

HAVERFORD-WEST,

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 goal.

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 the rich drapery of ivy.

Haverford is called by the Welch, _Hwlfordh_. {47} Having finished our survey of Haverford, we started early the next morning, purporting 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. We were literally obliged to stoop, in order to gain access to the Kitchen, which contained a small bed, and a few chairs; through this an elderly woman conduced us to what she distinguished by the name of a Parlour: in this room the furniture consisted of two beds, a dirty table, and a few chairs. With disgust we left this miserable hovel, and contented ourselves with a bason of milk: we declined eating the bread, or rather oatmeal cake, which was of the coarsest and hardest nature. I here 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.” {49}

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. DAVIDS,

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. Davids, 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, {51} the national saint of Wales, with the consent of King Arthur, is said to have removed the Metropolitan See from Cær Lleon to Menevia, which has ever since been called _Ty Dewi_, by the Welch, and St. David, by the English. What was the condition and extent of this town formerly, 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 Henry II. or as Willis, 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 Henry VIII. as a kind of presbytery, between the choir and Lady chapel. In the last, whose roof, as well as those of the ailes of the choir and transepts, have been down ever since the civil war, are monuments for 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, {52a} Bishops Jorwerth and Anselm, in the 13th century, and Edmund Earl of Richmond, father of Henry VII. This last monument is said to have prevented 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 1213. {52b} On the North side of the church are some walls of St. Mary’s College, founded by Bishop Houghton, and John of Gaunt, 1365, valued at 106_l._ _per annum_.” {52c}

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 West front of the Cathedral has very lately been repaired by a Mr. Nash, {53} who has endeavoured, with bad success, to imitate the beautiful circular window remaining in the ruins of the Bishop’s Palace. 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 their original splendour; when the long ailes of the chapel were only responsive to the solemn, slow-breathed chaunt. 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.

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

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 shook 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,” {55} 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.

Our walk, from St. Davids 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 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 every 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 {56} 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 conveniencies: 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 relicks 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. {58} 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 only conveys 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 rounded at the corners; and, after the labours of the day, are conveyed, on the back, to the little cot of the fisherman, which is looked upon as a necessary appendage to the cottage door.