Swansea—The Flemings—Towards England.
Swansea is called by the Welsh Abertawé, which signifies the mouth of the
Tawy. Aber, as I have more than once had occasion to observe, signifies
the place where a river enters into the sea or joins another. It is a
Gaelic as well as a Cumric word, being found in the Gaelic names Aberdeen
and Lochaber, and there is good reason for supposing that the word
harbour is derived from it. Swansea or Swansey is a compound word of
Scandinavian origin, which may mean either a river abounding with swans,
or the river of Swanr, the name of some northern adventurer who settled
down at its mouth. The final ea or ey is the Norwegian aa, which
signifies a running water; it is of frequent occurrence in the names of
rivers in Norway, and is often found, similarly modified, in those of
other countries where the adventurous Norwegians formed settlements.
Swansea first became a place of some importance shortly after the
beginning of the twelfth century. In the year 1108, the greater part of
Flanders having been submerged by the sea {19} an immense number of
Flemings came over to England, and entreated of Henry the First the king
then occupying the throne, that he would all allot to them lands in which
they might settle, The king sent them to various parts of Wales, which
had been conquered by his barons or those of his predecessors: a
considerable number occupied Swansea and the neighbourhood; but far the
greater part went to Dyfed, generally but improperly called Pembroke, the
south-eastern part of which, by far the most fertile, they entirely took
possession of, leaving to the Welsh the rest, which is very mountainous
and barren.
I have already said that the people of Swansea stand out in broad
distinctness from the Cumry, differing from them in stature, language,
dress, and manners, and wished to observe that the same thing may be said
of the inhabitants of every part of Wales which the Flemings colonised in
any considerable numbers.
I found the accommodation very good at the “Mackworth Arms”; I passed the
Saturday evening very agreeably, and slept well throughout the night.
The next morning to my great joy I found my boots, capitally repaired,
awaiting me before my chamber door. Oh the mighty effect of a little
money! After breakfast I put them on, and as it was Sunday went out in
order to go to church. The streets were thronged with people; a new
mayor had just been elected, and his worship, attended by a number of
halbert and javelin men, was going to church too. I followed the
procession, which moved with great dignity and of course very slowly.
The church had a high square tower, and looked a very fine edifice on the
outside, and no less so within, for the nave was lofty with noble pillars
on each side. I stood during the whole of the service as did many
others, for the congregation was so great that it was impossible to
accommodate all with seats. The ritual was performed in a very
satisfactory manner, and was followed by an excellent sermon. I am
ashamed to say that have forgot the text, but I remember a good deal of
the discourse. The preacher said amongst other thing that the Gospel was
not preached in vain, and that he very much doubted whether a sermon was
ever delivered which did not do some good. On the conclusion of the
service I strolled about in order to see the town and what pertained to
it. The town is of considerable size, with some remarkable edifices,
spacious and convenient quays, and a commodious harbour into which the
river Tawy flowing from the north empties itself. The town and harbour
are overhung on the side of the east by a lofty green mountain with a
Welsh name, no doubt exceedingly appropriate, but which I regret to say
has escaped my memory.
After having seen all that I wished, I returned to my inn and discharged
all my obligations. I then departed, framing my course eastward towards
England, having traversed Wales nearly from north to south.