ON AND OFF THE NARBERTH ROAD. LANGWM AND DAUGLEDDAU.
It is market day in Haverfordwest. The big travel-stained waggons of the
wholesale traders, drawn by sturdy large-limbed horses, trundle slowly
through the crowded streets of the old town; while the distinctive tones
of the 'broad Harfat talk' greet the ear upon every side.
Wending our way down the steep High Street, we bear away to the right at
the bottom of the hill, and traverse one of the oldest quarters of the
town. Presently we descry a low-browed entrance opening upon the
footpath, the massive nail-studded door, with its quaint lion-head
knocker, being enframed by liberally-moulded jambs. Passing beneath this
ancient portal, we are admitted to an interior beautified by the rare
old oaken stairway shown in our sketch; this stairway gives access to
nicely panelled chambers, whose fireplaces retain their original blue
Dutch tiles, painted with scenes from Biblical history.
[Illustration: OLD STAIRCASE AT HAVERFORDWEST.]
To the rear of the dwelling-house stands a flour-mill of antiquated
type; yet driving, withal, a brisk trade in its green old age. A
well-trained old horse, the mainstay of the establishment, jogs round in
the mill and supplies the motive power.
Stepping out to the rear, we find ourselves upon the riverside quay,
along which we now take our way. Groups of bulky stone warehouses flank
the grass-grown wharf, which presently opening out, reveals the Bristol
Trader, a little semi-nautical inn, with its trim bit of garden-ground
abloom with hollyhocks and nasturtiums; an old-time spot frequented by
waterside gossips, and fraught with vague echoes from that wide outer
world where men 'go down to the sea in ships.'
Hence we push on past the ruined priory to the diminutive village of
Haroldstone, where some traces still exist of the ancient mansion that,
for three successive centuries, was the ancestral home of the Perrots,
one of the most notable old families of Pembrokeshire.
[Illustration: UZMASTON.]
_Vis-à-vis_ across the river Cleddau rises the parish church of
Uzmaston; a picturesque assemblage of roofs and gables, clustering
around a quaint old saddle-backed tower. Uzmaston Church has, within the
last few years, been rescued from decay, and conscientiously restored by
Mr. Lingen Barker, architect, of Hereford.
Skirting a bend of the river, we trudge through the woods to Freystrop,
and enter upon a district pitted here and there with old mine-shafts.
Over the water lies Boulston, where hard by the brink of the stream
(perhaps a bowshot east from the desecrated church) rises a jumble of
ivy-clad ruins, backed by a tangled thicket of old forest trees. Here
lived the Wogans, a well-known family in days of yore, who adopted a
wyvern as their crest from the following tradition.
Amidst the broad-woodlands that formerly extended around the ancestral
mansion, wild beasts of various kinds were supposed to roam at large.
In the remotest depths of the forest lurked the dreaded basilisk, a
formidable monster whose glance caused instant death to the ill-starred
wight upon whom its gaze might rest, but which perished itself if first
perceived by a man.
At last a certain bold fellow determined to rid the countryside of this
objectionable beast. Causing himself to be shut up in a cask and rolled
into the forest, he peeped through the bung-hole, and presently spied
the basilisk without himself being seen. Thereupon the dreaded monster,
giving vent to an unearthly yell that could be heard for miles around,
fell down and perished upon the spot, so that the country-folk were no
longer troubled by the molestations of the basilisk. A dragon legend,
very similar to the above, is connected with the village of Mordiford in
Herefordshire.
By-and-by, as we descend from the uplands, a broad reach of the tideway
opens out right before us, where the twin streams of Cleddau merge into
the widening Haven. Thus we enter the village of Langwm at its upper
end, escorted by a rabble of noisy, unkempt urchins who cumber the
narrow roadway.
Here, in the very heart of southern Pembrokeshire, stranded like a human
jetsam upon one of the inmost recesses of Milford Haven, we find an
isolated community, whose speech and physiognomy alike proclaim their
Teutonic origin. Imagination conjures up those far-away times, when the
sturdy immigrants from over seas--ancestors of these hardy
fisher-folk--pushed their advance up the winding waterway, despite the
desperate onslaughts of the Britons, who, fighting for hearth and home,
'rolled on like the billows of a retiring tide with noise, fury, and
devastation, but on each retreat yielded ground to the invaders.'
In their own thoroughgoing fashion, the newcomers set to work to
construct a chain of castles to guard their hard-won territory; and
thus, protected from the restless foe, grew up those peaceful villages
and smiling homesteads, surrounded by orchards, fields, and pasture
lands, that have earned for this portion of the county its title of the
Little England beyond Wales.
But _revenons à nos moutons_, for it is time to look about us.
A curious place is Langwm, and a singular race are the people that dwell
therein. Small 'butt-and-ben' cottages, some thatched, some slated,
others roofed with hideous corrugated iron, compose the major portion of
the village; which straggles down a narrow combe, whose lower reaches
open upon an oozy elbow of the river.
[Illustration: LANGWM FISHWIVES.]
The women, as a rule, are conspicuous by their absence; for they are for
the most part abroad, hawking fish and oysters up and down the country.
Clad in stout pea-jackets and warm blue homespun skirts, worn short for
travelling the rough country roads, these hard-working women seem to
belong to some alien race, as they elbow their way through the crowded
streets of Tenby or Haverfordwest.
The Langwm people have, indeed, always kept very much to themselves,
discouraging alliances with outsiders; nor until recent years would they
even permit their girls to go out as domestic servants. In the old
unregenerate days, courtship and marriage were attended with certain
curious, primitive customs--customs which, to say the least, were 'more
honoured in the breach than the observance.' One way and another, this
singular people forms an interesting little community, which appears to
have preserved intact to the present day much of the manners and customs
of the early Flemish colonists.
Langwm Church is dedicated to St. Hierom. The little edifice stands, as
its name implies, in a hollow combe near Milford Haven. To reach it we
cross a bit of rough unenclosed greensward, littered over with
oyster-shells, upon which, according to the local story, the village
itself is built.
The interior of this church is enriched with some interesting Decorated
features; notably a canopied niche and piscina of unusual type, upon the
eastern wall of the north chapel, or transept.
Under an ogee canopy, in the gable wall of the same chapel, lies the
effigy of a De la Roche (or Dolly Rotch in the vernacular), to whose
family this chapel formerly belonged. The figure is that of a Crusader,
clad in full armour and sword in hand; the face is both handsome and
expressive, and the head reposes upon a plumed helmet. The thong of the
boot, twisted around the leg, bears some resemblance to a serpent; and
hence this monument is pointed out as that of the founder of Roch
Castle, who, as an old story avers, met his death through the bite of a
'loathlie worme.'
Near Langwm the twin Cleddaus merge into the broad bosom of the tideway;
becoming, as old George Owen says, 'both a salt sea of a myle broade and
xvi myles longue before they forsake their native Countrie, ... and then
by Curse of nature yeald themselves to the sea, the endinge of all
Rivers.'
We now cross the ferry, and, after passing through Marteltewi, bear
away in a southerly direction _en route_ for Lawrenny. The latter is a
pleasant-looking village, with comely cottages concentrated around the
parish church of St. Caradoc, whose tall, ivy-mantled tower rises close
at hand, overshadowed by a grove of stately elms where the rooks are
making merry.
To the rear of the church the ground slopes up to a boss of open land,
fringed with a thick growth of copsewood, and almost cut off from the
circumjacent country by two converging 'pills,' or tidal creeks.
[Illustration: LAWRENNY CASTLE.]
Pursuing a field-path that skirts the stream at the base of the
monticle, we stroll through the park-like demesne of Lawrenny Castle, a
handsome modern edifice, whose soaring turrets and battlements make a
brave show amidst the silvan scenery.
[Illustration: BENTON CASTLE.]
Making our way to a handful of cottages beside a neglected quay, we now
select a likely-looking craft, and pull across the Western Cleddau to
the ruins of Benton Castle; whose ivy-clad battlements scarcely overtop
the redundant oak woods, that come feathering down to the very brink of
the stream.
Little remains of the fabric save the principal tower, the base of which
is circular in form, the upper works being corbelled out and fashioned
into an octagon. With the arched gateway, flanked by a portion of a
second drum-tower, these crumbling ruins form a picturesque group, whose
features are almost lost amidst the luxuriant foliage that runs riot
over all.
Benton Castle appears never to have been more than a mere outpost,
planted to guard the passage of the Western Cleddau, and forming a link
in the chain of strongholds to guard this remote English settlement.
History has little to tell about its past, but the castle is reputed to
have been originally built by Bishop Beck. It was at one time surrounded
by an extensive deer park, a portion of the ancient estate of
Williamstown, which, as George Owen tells us, was sequestrated to the
Crown upon the attainder of Sir John Perrot.
After groping about for some time, in vain endeavour to obtain a
satisfactory view, we at last secure a sketch of Benton Castle; and
then, recrossing the water, make the best of our way back again to
Lawrenny.
Inns, good, bad or indifferent, appear to be an 'unknown quantity' in
this highly-respectable village; but an enterprising grocer rises to the
occasion, and plays the _rôle_ of Boniface as one to the manner born.
Upon resuming our peregrinations, we set our course for Landshipping
Ferry; while the gathering clouds, brooding over the darkening
landscape, warn us to make ready against the 'useful trouble of the
rain.' With a sudden swirl the gale descends upon us, sweeping through
the straining tree-tops, and lashing up the waters of the creek into the
semblance of a miniature _Maelström_.
Scudding for shelter to a rustic alehouse, we soon make ourselves at
home in the deep, oaken settle beside the chimney-corner; discussing the
day's adventures over a mug of home-brewed ale, while the fumes of the
'noxious weed' float upwards to the ripening flitches, that hang from
the smoke-begrimed rafters overhead.
Half an hour later finds us once more underway, with the sunshine
blinking out again through the tail of the retreating storm, and the
raindrops glistening like diamonds on every bush and hedgerow:
'Sweet is sunshine through the rain,
All the moist leaves laugh amain;
Birds sing in the wood and lane
To see the storm go by, O!
'Overhead the lift grows blue,
Hill and valley smile anew;
Rainbows fill each drop of dew,
And a rainbow spans the sky, O!'
Running us ashore near some cottages, at a picturesque nook of the
Haven, the ferryman now puts us in the way for Picton; which is reached
after a brisk twenty minutes' tramp through the leafy glades of a deep,
sequestered dingle.
[Illustration: PICTON CASTLE.]
It would be difficult to image anything more attractive than the
situation of Picton Castle. Crowning the brow of a gentle declivity, the
stately pile is sheltered from the north and east by groves of forest
trees, and mighty banks of rhododendrons; while upon its southern side a
beautiful expanse of the home-park rolls away, 'in emerald slopes of
sunny sward,' to a broad, land-locked reach of Milford Haven.
In conjunction with the neighbouring estate of Slebech, Picton Park
comprises a vast extent of open, park-like land, the haunt of game and
wild-fowl; while the river front affords miles of woodland strolls, with
a charming variety of ever-changing prospects. What with boating and
fishing galore, not to mention an occasional meet of fox and otter
hounds, he must indeed be a fastidious sportsman who cannot find
recreation in this favoured locality.
Picton Castle can boast a record unmatched in the annals of any other
Southwallian fortalice; for the place has never once been deserted, but
has always been occupied by those who can claim direct descent from the
original founder.
It was in the days of William Rufus (when Arnulph the Norman handed over
the whole of the surrounding district to his trusty follower) that Sir
William de Picton erected the first castle, and gave his own name to his
newly-acquired possession. To his descendant, the good Sir John
Philipps, the town of Haverfordwest is indebted for its fine old
sandstone bridge, which he caused to be built at his own expense, and
presented as a free gift to the borough. John Wesley and Sir Isaac
Newton were numbered amongst his friends; and a monument, erected to his
memory by the grateful townsfolk, is to be seen in St. Mary's Church,
Haverfordwest.
General Picton, of Peninsular War renown, was a famous scion of the same
good stock. It is said that, owing to his influence abroad, large
quantities of the best wine of Oporto found their way into many a
Pembrokeshire cellar, where such a vintage had hitherto been a luxury
unknown.
During the Civil Wars, Picton Castle was garrisoned and held for King
Charles by Sir Richard Philipps, second baronet; but was eventually
surrendered (as the story goes) under the following circumstances.
One day during the course of the siege, a servant-maid was standing at
an open casement in the eastern bastion with Sir Erasmus, the infant
heir, upon her arm; when a Parliamentary trooper rode up with a flag of
truce, and presented a letter at the window. No sooner had the maid
reached forward to take the missive, than, raising himself in the
saddle, the soldier snatched the child from the nurse's arms, drew his
sword, and threatened to slay the hope of Picton upon the spot, unless
the castle were instantly surrendered.
Though much altered and extended in comparatively modern times, Picton
Castle still presents an imposing and dignified appearance; especially
when viewed from the south-east side, whence our sketch is taken.
The entrance front (which is by far the oldest portion of the
structure) retains the deeply-recessed portal, the rounded arches,
quaint, archaic corbel-heads and narrow windows, that mark the enduring
handiwork of the original Norman builders. Above the massive entrance
porch rise the deep-set windows of the chapel; the handsome painted
glass with which they are adorned, forming an appropriate memorial to a
member of the family of Sir Charles and Lady Philipps, whose tragic
death, in 1893, aroused the deep sympathy of the entire county.
Rounded bastions project at intervals from the main structure, which is
of an oblong form, with a lofty wing flanking its western end. The moat,
having no purpose to serve in these piping times of peace, has long
since been filled up; and its place is now occupied by pleasant walks
and _parterres_, varied by luxuriant shrubberies.
The interior of the castle contains numerous suites of apartments,
disposed around a handsome and spacious hall, from whose lofty walls
historic family portraits of various styles and periods look down upon
the beholder.
At one end of the hall is a gallery communicating with the private
chapel above mentioned; and several quaint, old-fashioned chambers,
whose solid circular walls are of enormous thickness. The panelled
floors and ceilings of these apartments are worthy of notice, as are
their white marble chimney-pieces, delicately wrought in the Italian
manner. From the recesses of the deep-set windows, we command a lovely
prospect over the rich rolling woodlands of the park, encircled by a
silvery reach of the Cleddau towards Landshipping Ferry.
Passing along the green alleys of the home-wood, we presently emerge
upon a stretch of breezy downland, and forge ahead through whispering
bracken and heather; while the sound of a woodcutter's axe and the
distant bleating of sheep float lazily hitherward upon the calm, clear
air.
Thence we plunge into a shadowy belt of greenwood that fringes the
waterside; nor until we are nearing Slebech do these woodland glades
roll back, and give place to the more open scenery of Baron de Rutzen's
beautiful demesne.
[Illustration: SLEBECH CHURCH.]
The mansion and ruined church of Slebech occupy the site of a Commandery
of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, who early in the twelfth
century established a small community here, to collect funds for the
purposes of that ancient fraternity. The creation of this Commandery
appears to have been an event of considerable importance; and we find
such names as Maurice de Prendergast, the invader of Ireland, and
Fitzgerald, the notorious Bishop of St. Davids, enrolled amongst its
earliest benefactors.
Dedicated to St. John the Baptist, the old ruined church of the
Knights-Templars stands in a low, sheltered situation, half surrounded
by the waters of the Cleddau; just one of those secluded spots that seem
to have been congenial to the mediæval temperament. The main walls and
arches of the fabric still remain fairly intact, and, like the western
tower, are smothered in masses of rank, untended ivy.
A doorway in the northern face of the tower gives access, beneath a
low-pitched, Gothic archway, to the interior of the church. This archway
is surmounted by a decayed stone escutcheon, charged with certain
armorial bearings which Fenton deciphered as 'arms quarterly, first and
fourth a fesse dauncette, second and third a lion rampant.' A similar
shield, at the apex of an upper window, displays the simple cross of the
Order of St. John of Jerusalem.
The dismantled interior, carpeted with rank herbage and vaulted with the
dome of heaven, looks picturesque in its decay. From the spot whence our
sketch was taken, the old font is seen near at hand, overtopped by an
arch giving access to a pretty side-chapel with traceried window, and a
small piscina formed in the flank of the pillar. Through the open
archway upon the right we gain a glimpse of the roofless, desecrated
chancel. When Fenton was here, about the beginning of the present
century, the latter was still covered with its wooden ceiling, fashioned
into square compartments and ornamented at the crossings of the beams
with floreated enrichments, conspicuous amidst which appeared the arms
of the Barlow family.
At that time the Barlow monument occupied a prominent position against
the south wall of the chancel, which may be easily identified by the
ragged stonework whence the structure has been torn away. This act of
vandalism is much to be deplored, for the monument appears to have been
an unusually handsome one, the effigies of Barlow and his lady reposing
beneath a sumptuous canopy, surmounted by a blank escutcheon.
By some lucky chance these figures have escaped destruction, and are now
safely stowed away in the vaults of Slebech new church. They are
excellently carved in alabaster, that of the knight being of great size;
his head with its long curling locks rests upon a helmet, while the
collar and order of the Golden Fleece is suspended around his shoulders.
Hence it is supposed that this figure represents a certain Roger Barlow,
who in the reign of Henry VIII. travelled into Spain, and was employed
by the Spanish monarch in his South American ventures.
The lady, whose effigy is apparently of somewhat earlier date than that
of the male figure, is arrayed in a handsome robe, over which is drawn a
gracefully flowing mantle; while her long, smooth hair, bound with a
chaplet around the brows, falls upon either side about her sloping
shoulders.
Foundations of ancient buildings are said to have been traced in the
grounds, between the church and the neighbouring mansion; but nothing
worthy of note has as yet seen the light of day.
Slebech House appears to have been erected at a period when architecture
had fallen to about its lowest ebb; its yellow plastered walls being
pierced with rows of featureless windows, and surmounted by meagre,
meaningless battlements. Nevertheless, the spacious chambers command
such charming vistas of woodland and shimmering waters, as to go far
towards making amends for architectural shortcomings. The mansion has
superseded a structure of no mean antiquity, but of its history, which
was presumably quiet and uneventful, few records have survived to our
times.
Some three miles to the northward of Slebech lies the obscure hamlet of
Wiston; a place so small and insignificant, that it is by no means easy
to picture it as the erstwhile head of the barony of Daugleddau, a
borough town, and the home of the powerful Wogans.
Wiston, we are told, derives its name from a certain Wiz, or Wyzo, a
Flemish immigrant of considerable influence, who built a castle here to
protect the infant settlement; of this castle a portion of the keep or
donjon-tower, and a ruined gateway, still remain in tolerable repair.
After having been more than once beleaguered and destroyed, the place
was dismantled and deserted at an early period; so that Wiston Castle
plays but a minor part in the records of border warfare.
Of the Wogan family, who for many generations made Wiston their home,
the most famous scion was Sir John of that ilk, who was Lord Chief
Justice of England in the reign of Edward I. This Sir John, it may be
noted _en passant_, took to himself the style and title of 'Lord of
Pyketown.'
So much, then, for Wiston. We now set forth from Slebech, and jaunt
along beside the Eastern Cleddau, with the broad umbrageous woods of
Minwear combing down to the water's edge, upon the farther bank of the
stream. Ere long the Vale of Cleddau begins to widen out, forming a
comely, verdant strath, through which the highroad winds like a narrow
ribbon as it takes its way towards Narberth. For the present, however,
we give this road the go-by, and turn near Canaston bridge into a ruddy
lane, which climbs by a gentle ascent to the crest of the ridgeway.
Down in the vale below, at a place bearing the name of St. Kennox, lived
good Rees Pritchard, the famous Welsh divine, sometime Chancellor of St.
Davids Cathedral, and author of a celebrated book entitled 'Canwyll y
Cymro,' or the Welshman's Candle. Such was the fame of Pritchard's
oratory, that the vast congregations who flocked to hear him preach
overflowed the limits of the cathedral walls, and clustered thick as
hiving bees in the great south porch, and around the precincts of the
sacred building.
In about another mile, our lane suddenly debouches upon the broad,
triangular grass-plot, that forms the village-green of time-honoured
Llawhaden. Grouped around the green rise a number of old substantial
homesteads--true 'homes of ancient peace'--whose low-browed
lattice-windows look out upon a vasty duck-pond, overshadowed by clumps
of gnarled and weather-beaten firs.
[Illustration: LLAWHADEN CASTLE AND BRIDGE.]
Turning to the right at the foot of the green, we fare along the village
street until it terminates abruptly in a sort of _cul-de-sac_, where the
majestic ruins of Llawhaden Castle seem to forbid our further progress.
The great Gatehouse, with its lofty drum towers flanking the
boldly-arched portcullis, indicates the noble scale upon which the
fortress was conceived. The eastern tower is still in a fair state of
preservation, retaining the strong stone floors of its successive
stages, though its fellow has been shorn of more than half its bulk.
These towers are pierced with small but well-proportioned
lancet-windows, apparently of Edwardian date, and the corbelled
battlements are carried forward above the gateway, to form a _couloir_
for pouring down molten lead upon the foe.
On passing beneath the lofty entrance archway, we are confronted by a
well-proportioned Gothic doorway, with one small pointed window, little
more than a loophole, in the wall beside it; these are the sole relics
of the northern front, of which all else has fallen to decay. Near at
hand rises a slender square tower, whose trefoil-headed windows and
finely-worked mouldings point to a later period than that of the main
structure. From its position and certain accessories, there is reason to
suppose this tower contained the chapel of the castle, erected by Bishop
Vaughan, who enlarged and beautified St. Davids Cathedral.
A group of flourishing ash-trees, which have sprung up wheresoever they
listed, cast their chequered shade athwart the neglected courtyard;
whilst pigs and poultry, from the adjacent farmstead, roam untended
amidst the masses of fallen masonry, that cumber the ground in every
direction.
Although perched on the brink of a steep declivity, the castle was
protected by a moat which still remains intact, though sadly choked with
tangled undergrowth and _débris_. This moat was supplied with water from
a stream, which forms the large pond at the foot of the village.
Thomas Beck, Bishop of St. Davids, is said to have erected Llawhaden
Castle, towards the close of the thirteenth century; but it is more than
probable his building merely superseded a structure of earlier date.
This worthy prelate also founded, 'in his Villa de Llewhadyn, a little
_Hospitium_, which he dedicated to the poor and needy;' devoting to its
maintenance the revenues derived from his own lands. Thus Bishop Beck
became the first Welsh patron of pilgrims, and supporter of the aged and
infirm.
Of this very interesting foundation, all that has survived is a small
building with vaulted roof, doorway, windows and a piscina, situated in
a field on the outskirts of the village. This little edifice was in all
probability the chapel of Beck's _hospitium_. A certain Friar William
was entrusted with the charge of the establishment, both he and his
brethren wearing a habit distinctive of their calling.
By the time of Owen Glyndwr, the castle appears already to have fallen
into disrepair; as we read that the King gave orders for Llawhaden to be
put into a state of defence, victualled, and furnished with a garrison.
Under the disastrous _régime_ of Bishop Barlow, that rapacious prelate
caused the lead to be stripped from off the castle roofs, even as he had
done at the beautiful old palace of St. Davids. Thenceforth the stately
fabric, exposed to the disintegrating forces of Nature, gradually
succumbed to its misfortunes, and sank into the condition of an
uninhabitable ruin.
At their castle of Llawhaden, the Bishops of St. Davids lived in true
baronial style; the fortress constituting the _Caput Baroniæ_, by virtue
of which they were entitled to representation in the Parliament of the
realm.
Before taking leave of Llawhaden Castle, we secure the accompanying
sketch of the great Gatehouse, whose hoary lichen-clad masonry, wreathed
in clinging ivy, rises with bold and striking effect against the dark
foliage of a neighbouring coppice.
Descending by a steep, hollow lane to the banks of Cleddau, we linger
long about the old bridge and castle-mill to enjoy the placid beauty of
the landscape, whose rich, subdued tints are enhanced by the radiance of
a mellow autumn afternoon.
Looking upstream, the church forms the central feature of a pleasant,
restful prospect; its picturesque tower reflected in the clear waters of
the Cleddau, which rushes onward to tumble with refreshing roar over a
weir close at hand. Amidst the hanging woodlands which clothe the castle
hill, we catch a glimpse of that ancient fortalice; while the lowing of
kine comes pleasantly to the ear from the deep water-meadows down the
vale.
We now bend our steps towards the parish church, noticing a simple
wooden cross beside the wicket-gate, whereon is hung a lantern to guide
the footsteps of the benighted flock, during the long, dark evenings of
winter.
Llawhaden Church stands somewhat remote from the village, in a
sequestered nook where the castle hill and the Cleddau leave scarce
sufficient room for the little church to stand; insomuch that its
chancel gable well-nigh overhangs the stream. Dedicated to St. Hugo, the
sacred edifice contains the mutilated effigy of an ecclesiastic,
commonly supposed to represent the patron saint, but more probably
intended for Adam Houghton, Bishop of St. Davids, and co-founder with
John o' Gaunt of St. Mary's College in that 'city.'
Houghton distinguished himself by enacting a statute to regulate the
scale of wages, and the price of beer, on behalf of his faithful
'subjects;' while tradition avers that, having been excommunicated by
the Pope for some misdemeanour or other, this intrepid prelate
retaliated by excommunicating the Holy Father himself!
Inside the church we notice several curiously-sculptured corbels;
besides a two-three quaint epitaphs reciting, in rather questionable
English, the virtues and graces of certain local worthies.
The semi-detached tower presents a picturesque appearance, having,
attached to its southern face, a square-shaped turret which, curiously
enough, looks older than the tower itself. The internal construction of
this tower is somewhat peculiar, and its belfry contains a triplet of
sweet-toned bells.
It is, perhaps, worthy of note that Llawhaden is supposed to derive its
name from St. Aeddan, a Pembrokeshire man by birth, and a disciple of
St. David himself.
Having inspected an ancient cross, built into the eastern gable of the
church, we now retrace our footsteps to the bridge, where, after
searching for some time in vain owing to intervening foliage, we at last
pitch upon a suitable spot for a sketch of that time-worn structure.
This done, we reluctantly turn our backs upon pretty Llawhaden, and fare
away in the direction of Narberth, playing hide-and-seek with our
shadows as they lengthen under the westering sun. Groups of lads and
little lasses, homeward bound from school, linger in twos and threes by
the rough laneside, where the bramble brakes are thickest; purple lips
and stained pocket-handkerchiefs showing the blackberry season is now in
full swing.
Anon we clamber over a tall step-stile, near a widespreading ash-tree
whose singular form at once arrests the eye. After growing for some feet
in a horizontal direction, the massive Bole turns abruptly at a sharp
right angle, and shooting skywards, straight as an arrow, branches out
into a head of symmetrical foliage, like the trees in a Dutchman's
garden.
Pushing on by a footpath that winds down towards a stream in the hollow
of the vale, we presently stumble hot-foot upon a covey of partridges,
who are up in a twinkling, and blustering away to the shelter of a
neighbouring stubble-field; while the voice of an unseen
threshing-machine, 'a-bummin' away like a buzzard clock,' palpitates
through the drowsy air of the still, September afternoon.
Leaving St. Kennox away to our right, we now make for the village of
Robeston Wathen; the choice lying between breasting the hill by a steep
green field-path, or approaching in more leisurely fashion by way of the
lane. The voting goes all in favour of the shorter route, which brings
us out at a point near Robeston Church, whose tall, isolated tower is
conspicuous for a long distance around. At the cross-roads near the
village stands a group of wayside cottages, whose deep thatched roofs,
and low porches embowered in honeysuckle and climbing plants, make a
very charming picture.
Past the disestablished toll-gate, the road slants away down the bank to
a bridge over a narrow streamlet. Thence ensues the long, steady ascent
of Cock's Hill, which lands us eventually at a considerable altitude on
the outskirts of Narberth; a place that, with the exception of its
ruined castle, has little to commend it to wayfarers who, like
ourselves, are 'in search of the picturesque.'
A town of some importance in bygone times, when its markets were
resorted to by half the countryside, Narberth appears of late to have
fallen upon degenerate days; the mail-coaches having deserted its
grass-grown streets for ever, while the railway trains that have usurped
their place give the unfortunate town the go-by, in favour of other and
more enterprising communities.
Wending our way adown the long, featureless High Street, we pass on our
left the broad front of the De Rutzen Arms, a large wayside
posting-house, around whose weed-grown courtyard hang memories of the
old coaching days. Then, leaving the parish church away to the right,
and navigating some intricate lanes, we approach the outskirts of the
town, and make the best of our way to the castle ruins.
Crowning the southward slope of the hill upon which the town is located,
Narberth Castle occupies a position of considerable importance. The
ruins of the fortress, though small, and devoid of striking features,
are not without a certain picturesque appearance when seen from the
Tenby road. It must, however, be confessed that 'distance lends
enchantment to the view;' for the existing remains are of a very
fragmentary nature, consisting of a few broken bastions, with some odds
and ends of more or less dilapidated masonry.
At the time of the Norman Conquest, Narberth fell to the share of Sir
Stephen Perrot, a follower of the redoubtable Arnulph de Montgomery.
Although there is record of a castle here as long ago as the eleventh
century, the present structure is certainly not of earlier date than the
days of Sir Andrew Perrot, or, say, about the middle of the thirteenth
century; indeed, the character of the existing work seems to point to
its erection at an even later period.
In the reign of Edward III., Narberth Castle came into the possession of
Roger Mortimer, the great Earl Marcher, and sometime favourite of Queen
Isabella; passing subsequently under the direct control of the Crown.
Eventually bluff King Hal presented the estate in his own freehanded way
to our old acquaintance, Sir Rhys ap Thomas; and so when John Leland,
the famous antiquary, travelled into South Wales upon his 'Laborious
Journey, and Searche for England's Antiquities,' he duly described
Narberth Castle as a 'praty pile of old Sir Rees.'
To the south of the town lies a broken, hilly district called Narberth
Forest; whence were procured, in bygone days, large quantities of oak
and other timber, for building the famous 'wooden walls' of the British
navy. In olden times, this locality formed a favourite hunting-ground of
the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, whose custom it was to ride out
from their headquarters at Slebech, and chase the wild deer that
frequented its woodland glades.
The village of Templeton, (which doubtless derives its name from that
martial fraternity), is now a mere rambling, skeleton of a place, with a
few dwelling-houses of the better sort amongst the cottages that flank
the highway. Once upon a time, it is said, Templeton could boast its
village-cross and ancient wayside chapel; but of these not a solitary
vestige has survived to give colour to the story.
[Illustration: EGLWYSFAIR GLAN TAP.]
We now approach the eastern confines of the County, and thus enter upon
the beginning of the end of our Pembrokeshire peregrinations. From
Templeton we set our faces towards the hamlet of Eglwysfair-glan-Tâf,
better known, probably, to the _Saesneg_ traveller as Whitland railway
junction.
Laying our course adown the vale of the pretty Afon Marlas, we traverse
the long village street of Lampeter Velfrey; and so, keeping rail and
river upon our left flank, we presently strike the course of the infant
Tâf near the old disused toll-gate at Pen-y-bont. At the little bridge
that connects our County with its big neighbour of Carmarthen, we call a
halt to lounge beside the low parapet, and transfer to the sketch-book
an impression of St. Mary's Church, with the time-worn stonework of the
old arches and cutwaters spanning the trout stream in the foreground.
* * * * *
Here, then, we bid farewell to quaint old Pembrokeshire, and conclude
our sketching rambles amidst its secluded byways.
Not many localities, we take it, can boast, within so comparatively
limited a compass, such varied attractions for the lover of old-world
associations and time-worn architecture; attractions, withal, that to
some minds are enhanced by a sense of remoteness and isolation from the
ceaseless _Sturm und Drang_ of modern city life.
Although far from exhausting the scope of such a many-sided subject, we
venture to hope that these pages may enable our readers to participate
in the unalloyed pleasure and interest we have ourselves derived, from
these pen-and-pencil peregrinations amidst the Nooks and Corners of
Pembrokeshire.
[Illustration: REDBERTH FONT.]
INDEX.
A.
Abercastell, 142
Abergwaen, 143
Afon Dûad, 152, 156
Afon Gwaen, 2, 143
Afon Marlas, 196
Afon Nevern, 152-154, 166
Afon Syvynvy, 171
Allan River, 3
Anchor at Hoaton, 194
Angle, 80, 81, 84
Angle Bay, 79
Angle Castle, 82
Anne's Head, St., 84, 123
B.
Bangeston House, 84
Barker, E. H. Lingen-, Esq., 179
Barlows of Slebech, 188, 189
Barri, Gerald de, 46
Bartholomew Roberts, 174
Bayvil, 159
Beavers in Wales, 171
Bedd-yr-Avangc, 170
Benton Castle, 184
Bishop-and-Clerks Islets, 138
Bishop's Palace, St. Davids, 135-137
Blockhouse at Angle, 83
Bonville's Court, 31
Bosheston, 68
Bosheston Meer, 71
Boulston, 179
Brestgarn, 144
Brides, St., 118
Brunt, 124
Bullibur, 73
Bullslaughter Bay, 72
Byrnach, St., 150, 174
C.
Caldey Island, 19-21
Campbell, Admiral Sir G., 67
Capel Stinian, 138
Carew Castle, 95-98
Carew Church, 94, 99, 100
Carew Cross, 94
Carmelite Nunnery, Tenby, 14
Carnedd Meibion Owen, 150, 152, 158
Carn Englyn, 1, 148, 150, 152
Carn Llidi, 2, 140
Carreg Gwastad Point, 147
Carswall, 29
Castell Conyn, 175
Castle Hill, Tenby, 15
Castle Malgwyn, 163, 164
Castle Martin, 89-91
Cathedral, St. Davids, 130-134
Cawdor, Lord, 66, 144
Cheriton, 64, 65
Church Plate, Gumfreston, 25
Cilmaenllwyd, 174
Clark, G. T., Esq., 56
Clawdd-y-Millwyr, 139
Cleddau River, 2, 168, 175, 182, 190
Cobb, J. R., Esq., 42, 56, 59
Coedmore, 161
Coracle, 161
Court, 157
Croes Mihangel, 168
Cromlechs, 48, 142, 151, 158
Crosses, 32, 94, 154, 155
Crowpoole, 77
Crugau Kemaes, 159
Crymmych Arms, 166, 168
Cwm Cerwyn, Foel, 169
D.
Dale, 122, 123
Dale Roads, 123
Daniels, St., 63
Davids, St., 128, 129
De Barri, Gerald, 46
De Barri Monument, Manorbere, 51
De la Roche Monument, 182
De Rutzen, Baron, 187
Dewisland, 2, 126
Dinas, 148
Dinas Head, 2, 143
Dogmaels, St., 165
Dogwell, St., 174
Dowrog Common, 141
Drudgeman's Hill, 109
Dûad Stream, 152, 156
E.
East Blockhouse, 83
Eastern Cleddau, 2, 168, 190
Eastington, 79, 85, 86
Eglwys Erw, 157
Eglwysfair Glan Tâf, 196
Eglwys Wen, 157
F.
Fishguard, 143, 145, 148
Fissures in Rock, Manorbere, 49
Flemings in Pembrokeshire, 181
Flether Hill, 177
Flimston, 73
Florence, St., 28, 29
Foel Cwm Cerwyn, 1, 169
Foel Trigarn, 168
Ford, 175
Fordd Fleming, 5, 142, 167, 170
French in Pembrokeshire, 143
Freshwater Bay, 79
Freystrop, 179
Fryn-y-Fawr, 167
G.
Garn Vawr, 147
Gateholm, 121
Giraldus Cambrensis, 46, 47
Glyndwr, Owen, 175
Glyn-y Mel, 143
Goodwic, 145
Govan's Chapel, St., 68
Gower, Bishop, 131
Grassholm, 121
Gulf Stream, 6
Gumfreston, 24, 25
Gwaen River, 2, 143
Gwahan Garreg, 138
Gwryd-bach, 141
H.
Haroldstone, 109, 179
Haverfordwest, 109-111, 178
Hayward Family, 177
Hean Castle, 31
Hênllan House, 78
Hênllys, 156
Hirlas Horn, 67
Hoaton, 124
Hobb's Point, 78, 106
Hodgeston, 39
Holyland, 104
Houghton, Bishop, 193
Howards of Rudbaxton, 175, 176
Howel Davies, 174
Hoyle's Mouth, 29
Hundleton, 74
Huntsman's Leap, 71
I.
Issells, St., 31
Ivy Tower, 31
J.
Jestynton, 85
Johnston, 108
Jordanston, 142
K.
Kemaes, 149
Kennox, St., 190
Kensington, Lord, 118
Kilgerran, 159, 160
King's Bridge, 104
L.
Lampeter Velfrey, 196
Lamphey, 36-38
Lamphey Park, 93
Landshipping, 184
Langwm, 180, 181
Laugharne Family, 119
Lawrenny, 183, 184
Letterston, 175
Little England beyond Wales, 6, 180
Little Haven, 117
Little Newcastle, 174
Llanbeudy, 174
Llandilo, 172, 173
Llangolman, 173
Llanhyvor Castle, 152
Llantood, 159
Llanvirnach, 173, 174
Llanwnda, 145, 146
Llawhaden, 190-193
Llechllafar, 135
Llechrhyd Bridge, 163
Llwyngwair, 2, 151
Longhouse, 142
Lord Kensington, 118
Lower Solva, 126
Lucy Walters, 107
Lydstep, 33
M.
Maenclochog, 171, 172
Malgwyn Castle, 163, 164
Manorbere, 48, 49
Manorbere Castle, 41-45
Manorbere Church, 50, 51
Marloes, 120, 121
Marteltewi, 182
Mathry, 142
Melchior Family, 173
Menapia, 5, 127, 139
Merlin's Bridge, 109
Mesur-y-Dorth, 142
Milford Haven, 3, 84, 104
Mill Bay, 123
Monachlogddu, 173
Monkton, 61-63
Moor Farm, 91
Mullock Bridge, 119
N.
Narberth, 195
Narberth Forest, 196
Nevern, 152-154
Nevern River, 2, 151, 166
Newgale Brook, 2, 126
New Milford, 106
Newport, 149-151
Newton, 89
Nightingales in Pembrokeshire, 77
Non's Chapel, 138
Normans in Pembrokeshire, 5, 149
O.
Octopitarum, 127
Ogham Stones, 20, 159
Old Hall, Monkton, 61
Old Rectory, Carew, 100
Orielton, 74
Orlandon, 119
Owen Glyndwr, 175
Owen of Hênllys, 156
P.
Parc-y-Marw, 148
Parrog, 2, 151
Pembroke, 54, 55, 60, 61
Pembroke Castle, 56-60
Pembroke Dock, 104-106
Penally, 31
Pen-beri, 2, 142
Pencaer, 147
Pennar River, 77
Pentre-Evan Cromlech, 158
Pen-y-Bont, 197
Philipps of Picton, 186, 187
Picton, 185-187
Picton Family, 186
Pilgrims' Cross at Nevern, 155
Plumstone Mountain, 2
Poll-tax Inn, 174
Pont-y-Baldwyn, 156
Precelly Hills, 1, 168, 169
Prendergast, 177
Pwllcroghan, 78
R.
Rambler's Folly, 93
Ramsey Island, 3, 138
Rees Pritchard, 190
Rhôs, 2
Rhôscrowther, 87
Rhys Monument, 13
Ridgeway, 35
Risam Monument, 12
Ritec Stream, 31
Robeston Wathen, 194
Roch Castle, 2, 126
Roman Roads, 5, 127, 174
Romans in Pembrokeshire, 5
Rosebush, 171
Rosemarket, 107
Rudbaxton, 175, 176
Rutzen, Baron de, 187
S.
Saundersfoot, 30
Scotsborough, 24
Sealyham, 175
Sergeant's Inn, 157
Skokholm, 121
Skomer, 3
Slebech, 188, 189
Solva, 126, 127
Solva River, 2
Stackpole, 6, 54, 65, 68
Stackpole Court, 66, 67
Stack Rocks, 72
St. Anne's Head, 84
St. Brides, 118
St. Bride's Bay, 3
St. Byrnach, 150, 174
St. Daniels, 63
St. Davids, 128, 129
St. Davids Cathedral, 130-134
St. David's Head, 139
St. Dogmaels, 165
St. Dogwells, 174
St. Florence, 28, 29
St. George's Bastion, Tenby, 18
St. Govan's Chapel, 68, 69
St. Issells, 31
St. Kennox, 190
St. Mary's College, 137
St. Non's Chapel, 138
St. Teilo, 33, 173
Sunken Wood, 71
Syvynvy River, 171
T.
Tafarn-Bwlch, 170, 171
Talbenny, 118
Teilo, St., 33, 173
Teivy River, 162
Temple-Druid, 172
Templeton, 196
Tenby, 8-11, 21
Tenby Church, 11, 12
Toad of Trellyfan, 156
Trefgarn, 2, 175
Trefloyne, 30
Trehowel, 147
Trellyfan, 155
Trevine, 142
U.
Upper Solva, 127
Upton Castle, 101
Upton Chapel, 102, 103
Uzmaston, 179
V.
Vaughan, Bishop, 134, 191
Vaughans of Dunraven, 13
Via Julia, 5, 127, 174
View from Foel Cwm-Cerwyn, 169, 170
Vrenny-Vawr, 167
W.
Wallaston Cross, 78
Walls of Tenby, 17-19
Walters, Lucy, 107
Walton-West, 114
Walwyn's Castle, 115
Warren, 73, 89, 92
Waterwinch, 30
Wells, 26, 30, 48, 69, 91, 138, 172, 173
West Angle Bay, 84
Western Cleddau, 2, 175
West Gate, Pembroke, 61
White's Monument, 11, 12
Whitland, 196
Williams, Clement, Esq., 32
Williamstown, 184
Wiston, 189, 190
Withybush, 177
Wogan Cavern, Pembroke, 59
Wogan Family, 179, 190
[Illustration]
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES.
Copies.
Allen, Very Rev. Dean, St. Davids 1
Arnett, J. E., Tenby 3
Baker, Rev. S. O., Somerset 1
Ballinger, J., Cardiff 1
Bellamy, C. H., Heaton Chapel 1
Beloe, E. M., King's Lynn 1
Berensberg, Count Victor de, Haverfordwest 1
Bethell, W., Malton 1
and one large.
Blanc, H. S., Edinburgh 1
Bowen, J. B., Llwyngwair, Crymmych 1
Bowen, Rev. D., Pembroke 1
Bridgman, Rev. Canon, Wigan 1
Brigstocke, Ll., Haverfordwest 12
Bromley, Rev. W., Manorbere Vicarage 1
Bumpus, J. and E., Limited, Holborn 1
Bute, Lord, Cardiff Castle 1
Carroway, J., Blackheath 1
Chance, R. L., Edgbaston 2
Cherwood-Aiken, J. C., Stoke Bishop 1
Codner, D. J. D., Pembrokeshire 1
Daltry, Rev. T. W., Newcastle 1
Davies, D. J., Knightsbridge 1
Davies, G., Pembroke 1
Davies, Rev. G., St. Brides, Pembroke 1
Davies, Rev. W., Morlais. Fishguard 1
Davies-Burlton, T., Leominster 1
Davis, Mrs. Warren, Milford Haven 1
Dixon, W. H., 1, Arthur Road, Edgbaston 1
Dodd, Mead, and Co., New York 3
and one large.
Downing, Wm., Birmingham 1
Duncan, John, F.J.I., J.P., Cardiff 1
Elkington, G., Edgbaston 1
Evans, T. W., Fellowes Road, London 1
Feeney, John, Birmingham 1
Field, H. H., Beds 1
Gilpin, Captain N., Hove 1
Gray, Henry, Leicester Square 12
Greenish, R., Manorbere 1
Gwyther, F., Haverfordwest 1
Hanbury, Rev. T., Market Harborough 1
Hand, T. W., Oldham 1
Harries, Cecilia J., London 1
Hartwright, H., Harporley 1
Haslam, W. F., Edgbaston 1
Haslewood, Rev. F. G., Canterbury 1
Haynes, G. B., Brynhir, near Swansea 1
Haynes, H, Harrow, Middlesex 1
Henman, William, F.R.I.B.A., Birmingham 2
Hill, T. Rowley, Worcester 1
Hilbers, the Ven. Archdeacon, G. C., Haverfordwest 1
Hooke, Rev. D. Burford, High Barnet 1
Horncastle, H., Woking 1
Howell, George Owen, Plumstead 1
Idris, T. B. W., Camden Town 1
Jakeman and Carver, Hereford 1
John, E., Middlesborough 1
Jolly, F., Bath 1
Jones, M. T., Wrexham 1
Layton, C. Miller, Folkestone 1
Lester, E., Rochester 1
Lewis, Rev. David, St. Davids 1
Lillington, Mrs. E., Penzance 1
Lingard-Monk, R. B. M., Wilmslow 1
Llewellyn, R. W., Briton Ferry 1
Lloyd, E. O. V., Corwen 2
Lloyd, H. Meuric, South Wales 1
Lloyd-Philips, F. L., Pembrokeshire 1
Maillard, Mrs., Pembroke 1
Marrs, Kingsmill, Saxonville, U.S.A. 1
Marychurch, Wm., Cardiff 1
Mathias, H., Haverfordwest 1
Mayler, J. E., Wexford 1
Meynell, Edgar J., Durham 1
Middlemass, Major J. C., Monkton 1
Morgan, Rev. C., Pembroke 1
Morgan, Lieut.-Col. W. L., Swansea 1
Morrison, Dr., Portclew, Pembroke 1
Nevin, J., Mirfield 1
Nield, W., Bristol 1
Oldham Central Free Library 1
Owen, Honourable Mrs., Treffgarn 1
Owen, Rev. Elias, M.A., F.S.A., Oswestry 1
Parker, F. Rowley, Harrow Weald 1
Parkinson, Captain F. R., President, Garrison Library, Pembroke Dock 1
Pashley, R., Rotherham 1
Pears, Andrew, Isleworth 1
Penney, J. W., Pembroke 1
Perrott, E., West Brighton 1
Phelps, Rev. C. M., Haverfordwest 1
Phillips. Rev. J., Haverfordwest 1
Philipps, Sir Charles E. G., Bart., Lord Lieutenant, Haverfordwest 1
Pierce, Ellis, Dolyddelen 1
Pollen, G. A. J., Seaton Carew 1
Powell, Mrs., Hereford 1
Price, Rees, Glasgow 1
Prickett, T. A., Tottenham Court Road, W. 1
Protheroe, E. S., Dolwilym 1
Randall, J., Sheffield 1
Reece, Mrs., Carpenter Road, Edgbaston 1
Rees, Griffith, Birkenhead 1
Rees, Howell, J.P., South Wales 1
Rees, J. Rogers, Penarth 1
Richards, D., Cardiff 1
Richards, D. M., Aberdare 1
Roberts, O. M., Portmadoc 1
Roberton, J. D., Glasgow 1
Rock, T. Dennis, South Wales 1
Roughsedge, Miss, Birkenhead 1
Rowntree, Wm., Scarborough 1
Samson, Louis, Haverfordwest 1
Sandys, Lt.-Col. T. Myles, M.P., Ulverston 1
and one large.
Seward, E., Cardiff 1
Skrine, H. D., Bath 1
Small, Evan W., Newport 1
Society of Antiquaries 1
Sparrow, A., Shrewsbury 1
Spurrell, W., and Son, Carmarthen 4
St. Davids, The Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of 1
Stewart, J., Llandyssil 1
Stone, Rev. D., Wallingford 1
Studholme, Paul, Parsonstown 1
Sturge, R. L., Bristol 1
Swansea, The Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of 1
Swinburne, Mrs. W. A., Dulais Hay 1
Thomas, J., J.P., Haverfordwest 1
Thomas, T. Lynn, Cardiff 1
Thomas, Rev. F. O., Narberth 1
Thomas, Rev. W. Meyler, Milford Haven 1
Thomason, Yeoville, F.R.I.B.A., Kensington 1
Timmins, F. H., Westfield Road, Edgbaston 1
Timmins, Miss, Edgbaston 1
Tredegar, Lord, Tredegar Park 1
Trevaldwyn, Rev. B. W. J., Looe 1
Treweeks, R. H. 3
and one large.
Troutbeck, Miss, Congleton 1
Turbervill, Colonel J. P., Bridgend 1
Turner, W. H., Maidstone 1
Walker, W., Finsbury Park 1
Walters, Rev. T., Maenclochog 1
Warburton, S., Balham 1
Wharton, Rev. G., Abingdon 1
Williams, G., Finsbury Pavement 1
Williams, J., Brook Street, W. 1
Williams, Wm, Aberystwyth 2
Williamson, G. C., Guildford 1
Wills, W. Leonard, Worcestershire 1
Wright, A. J., Milford Haven 1
LARGE PAPER.
Copies
Bethell, W., Malton 1
and one small.
Brigstocke, Ll., Haverfordwest 1
Brimmer, Mrs. Martin, Boston, U.S.A. 1
Dodd, Mead, and Co., New York 1
Gray, H., London 3
Ford, J. W., Enfield Old Park 1
Jones, J., 19, Cheapside, E.C. 1
Kensington, Lady, Pembrokeshire 1
Lambton, Lt.-Col. F. W., Pembroke 1
Owen, Henry, 44, Oxford Terrace, W. 1
Sandys, Lt.-Col. T. Myles, M.P., Ulverston 1
and one small.
Saunders, E. A., Pembroke Dock 1
Smith, R. V. Vassar, Cheltenham 1
Treweeks, R. H. 1
and three small.
[Illustration: PENBROKSHYRE]