inhabited by a colony of Flemings, who settled here in the reign of King
Henry I. In the reign of this king’s father, a great number of Flemings
having been driven out of their habitations by a very extraordinary
inundation of the sea, sought protection in England, where they were
cordially received. But so many of these people being dispersed in
different parts of the kingdom, began, by the increase of their numbers,
to create some uneasiness; which King Henry I. removed, by settling them
as a colony in South Wales, and gave them the country adjoining to Tenby
and Haverfordwest. By this wise policy the king rid his own dominions of
an incumbrance, and curbed the insolence of the then rebellious
Cambrians. {58} The little territory they inhabit is called _Gwyr_; and
by the English, Little England beyond Wales: because their manners and
language are still distinguishable from the Welsh, and in point of speech
assimilate the English. These Flemings, to this day, seldom or never
intermarry with the Welsh: they speak good English, and are very much
averse to the manners and language of the country they inhabit; both
sexes generally distinguish themselves by wearing a short cloak, called
_gowyr wittle_.
In preference to a long walk, of near thirty miles, we crossed the river
Bury, at Loughton, in the church-yard of which village we found the
following epitaph:
The village maidens to her grave shall bring
Selected garlands, each returning spring:
Selected sweets! in emblem of the maid,
Who underneath this hallowed turf is laid:
Like her, they flourish, beauteous to the eye;
Like her, too soon, they languish, fade and die.
From Loughor we proceeded to
LLANELLY,
a miserable dirty place, filled with miners and sailors. From hence to
KIDWELLY,
the road leads over the Pembree hills; and from this elevation the
scenery is viewed to great advantage.
The castle of Kidwelly, otherwise Cathweli, was formerly, I imagine, of
great extent, and is still the most perfect we had hitherto met with in
Wales. The extent of the apartments is distinguishable; some of the
staircases accessible; and the four round towers, keep, gateway, and
yard, spread an awful gloom around, whose beauties time had just
sufficiently impaired, to heighten its grandeur and sublimity. To this
castle King John retired, when at war with his Barons. Our guide
expatiated much on the history and events of the castle, and told the
story with as much agitation and interest as if it had happened
yesterday. The road to
CAERMARTHEN
we found unpleasantly hilly, but occasional valleys to our left enlivened
our walk. Near Caermarthen we crossed a bridge of freestone over the
Towy. This river, running through the middle of this shire, falls into
the British Sea at Caermarthen Bay, and is navigable for small vessels as
far as the bridge. Immediately over it, upon a hanging rock, stand the
remains of a once renowned castle. This town was the site of a Roman
station, _Maridunum_, and, according to Giraldus’s authority, was
anciently a place of great strength, and fortified with brick walls,
which are yet partly extant, near the river. This place, now considered
as the capital of the county, was formerly the residence of the Prince of
South Wales; and the ancient Britons here held their parliaments. The
chancery likewise, and exchequer for South Wales, were kept here, when
this territory was first erected into a principality, by the crown of
England. In the thirty-eighth year of King Henry VIII. it was created a
borough-town.
No part of Wales can boast a more generous or higher-spirited people than
the gentry in the vicinity, and the inhabitants of Caermarthen. Its
trade is likewise considerable, as the circumjacent country, for a very
considerable distance, is dependent upon it for the common luxuries, and
what are now deemed, even in Wales, necessaries of life, for which they
bring for sale or barter the most simple article of the native produce;
and you may frequently see the basket that has been brought for miles,
not contain a sixpenny-worth of herbs, eggs, &c.; yet this trifle is to
them of consequence, and enables them to add to the little stock of tea,
tape, or pins, which they require. The busy scene of a Caermarthen
market is highly interesting, particularly to one fond of the study of
political economy.
“Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.”
How cheap must be the subsistence of a party who can walk twelve or
fourteen miles to earn sixpence, or disburse a shilling or
eighteen-pence, and how few must be their weekly wants which so small a
sum can satisfy! It is true they divide this labour, and each take their
turn of village or neighbourly duty. The market of this place is not
only extremely reasonable, but excellent; hardly excelled in quality by
any but Worcester, the cleanliness and beauty of the exhibition of which
beats all England. Caermarthen has abundance of good meat, fish,
poultry, butter, wild-fowl, and game. In December, 1819, I bought three
fine turkeys for nine shillings, fowls from eightpence to one shilling
each, and other things in proportion; still the taxes are the same as in
England, and good land is high rented; but the wants of the tenantry are
fewer; small farms are abundant, and every cottage has its garden and
plot of ground, as well as waste land generally: fuel is likewise cheap.
The view from Caermarthen over the Towy is beautiful, and not to be
enjoyed any where to greater advantage than from the back rooms of the
Ivy Bush inn, or the terrace walk in the garden. Its population is rated
at between 7 and 8000, and its houses at about 1200. The market days are
Saturday and Wednesday. It is 231 miles from London, by Bristol, and 216
by Gloucester.
The mail arrives from London at nine in the morning, and departs at two
o’clock in the afternoon generally. I should feel it the height of
ingratitude, if I had failed to notice the great attention paid to
strangers who attend divine service at the church: not only are they
immediately accommodated in comfortable pews, but prayer-books are
supplied to them by the son of the clerk. In short, I witnessed a
courtesy and attention to strangers, and a backwardness to receive
remuneration, such as I never saw evinced at any other place.
The late Ivy Bush was the house of Sir Richard Steele, who obtained it
and his property in this neighbourhood by marriage with the heiress of
Jonathan Scurlock, Esq. After the death of his wife he retired to a
small farm-house, called the White House, lying about a mile from
Caermarthen, and there he wrote his celebrated comedy of the Conscious
Lovers.
At some distance from Caermarthen are several very remarkable caves:
whence Merlin is supposed to have delivered his oracles.
Of Merlin and his skill what region doth not hear?
Who of a British nymph was gotten whilst she play’d
With a seducing spirit.
_Drayton Polyolbion_, s. v.
Caermarthen gave birth to Merlin, who is styled, by an ancient author,
“the sonne of a badde angell, or of an incubus spirit, the Britaine’s
great Apollo, whom Geoffrey ap Arthur would ranke with the south-saying
seer, or rather with the true prophets themselves; being none other than
a mere seducer and phantastical wizard.” He flourished in the year 480.
Some few years after this tour, I took the road to Caermarthen from
Ragland, through Crickhowel, Brecon, Llandovery, and Landilo. Passing
through Abergavenny, we paused for a few days at Crickhowel, where we
amused ourselves in fly-fishing in the river Usk.
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, presenting at every step something
to admire, and 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 Richard 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 oftentimes great groans, and grievous sounds,
When too huge toil and labour them constrains.
And oftentimes 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, {72a} supposed to have been erected about
the time of William Rufus. A little farther on, the ivy-mantled walls of
Carew Castle {72b} 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:—