In a ravine that cuts into the rugged cliffs by St. Govan’s Head on the
south coast of Pembrokeshire, is a little chapel, once the hermitage of
the saint whose name the headland bears. St. Govan was a disciple of
St. David, and he had an adventurous life in this lonely part of Wales
many hundreds of years ago.
The district was harried by pirates from the sea, and savage pagan
tribesmen from the interior, and the very rocks and stones of his
sea-girt dwelling place had often to come to the rescue of the holy
man. But though he has been dead these fifteen hundred years the rocks,
they say, still work wonders for the visitor who goes to the little
chapel with a believing mind.
It is a tiny little place, twenty feet by twelve, with a stone tower
up which runs a staircase of over fifty steps. Exactly how many there
are you must try to count for yourself, for it is said that they vary,
and never number the same going up as they do coming down. Once fierce
pirates landed here and stole a silver bell that hung in the chapel.
Poor St. Govan was forced to hide from these wretches on many
occasions. A friendly rock would then come to his aid--you may see it
to-day to the left of the altar in the chapel. This rock would open,
when the saint was pursued and disclose a hollow within just big enough
to enclose his form. Then it would shut and hold the holy man in
security until the danger was passed.
After St. Govan died, the rock remained part open as it is now, and
they say that it will adapt itself to the size of anybody, who really
believes in its powers, who wishes to enter it. And if, when you are in
St. Govan’s hiding place, you make a wish, and do not change your mind
before you have turned round to come out again, you will surely obtain
your desires.
For many years, so the story goes, there was close by the chapel a rock
that gave out a beautifully clear and musical note when struck. This
rock, they said, contained the silver bell that the pirates stole, for
these wicked men were not allowed to escape with their booty, for their
ship was caught in a tremendous hurricane and swept on to the rocky
shore, and all the miscreants were drowned.
But the stolen bell was saved by some miraculous power and carried to
the rock, which became known as the “Bell-stone,” where it remained in
security.
St. Govan’s holy well is situated a little below the chapel, and here
cripples from all over Wales would travel to bathe in the healing
waters which gave relief to their sufferings. There is another healing
property in the cliffs near at hand, in the form of a deposit of red
clay, which for centuries has had the reputation of curing sore eyes.
But whether or not the earth and the waters around St. Govan’s Chapel
will work their magic for you now, the winds that blow straight in from
the Atlantic to this rockbound Pembroke coast will cure most ailments,
and bring back health and renewed vigour to the most weary.
Pembroke is a good centre for this hilly land of castles. From here you
may make excursions to some of the finest coast scenery in Wales, or
crossing Milford Haven adventure into that beautiful and little known
country that fringes the shore of St. Bride’s Bay.
Haverfordwest, a fascinating sleepy old town with three ancient
churches, is a few miles on the other side of Milford Haven, which you
cross in a steam ferry; and from there a motor omnibus service will
take you to far away little St. Davids, the “Cathedral Village,” with
its wonderful Norman Cathedral Church. It is a magnificent journey
that, from Haverfordwest to St. Davids, across a wild and windswept
country with seventeen steep hills to negotiate in sixteen miles, and
a magnificent view from the top of each one of them. And at the end of
the road one of the choicest churches in the whole country, nestling in
a sheltered valley, awaits you, and that sense of complete peace and
quiet that can only be found in a place utterly remote from crowds, and
the hustle and worry of modern life.
[Illustration: _St. Govan’s Chapel._]
[Illustration: Fairies tending a garden.]