CHAP. IV.

MANORBEER CASTLE—AN ADVENTURE—A DILEMMA—CAREW CASTLE—LAWRENNY—PEMBROKE—ITS CASTLE—LAMPHEY COURT—STACKPOLE COURT—BOSHERSTON MEER.

Manorbeer Castle

On a tempestuous day, a day fraught with trouble and alarm, we left Tenby, and took the Pembroke road traced on a ridge of hills, which command extensive views over almost the whole of Pembrokeshire, and a great part of the Bristol channel; but a heavy atmosphere frowned on the scenery, and threatened a violent storm. Leaving the high road, we descended toward the sea coast in search of the gloomy remains ofManorbeer castle, and found the ruin wildly situated as described by Leland, “between two little hillettes,” whose rocky bases repelled the fury of an angry sea. This fortress appears to have been of Norman erection; it fell tothe Crown in the reign of Henry the First; a grant from James the First presented it to the Bowens of Trelogne; from them it descended by marriage into the family of Picton Castle, and in the year 1740 was the property of Sir Erasmus Philips, Bart. The ponderous towers and massive fragments of this castle denote its original strength and importance to have been considerable; yet now, deprived of “the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war,” it exhibits a scene so wild and desolate, as might disclaim all intercourse with man: rank grass clothes every projection; “the thistle shakes its lonely head” from the windows, the sea-bird screams through the hall and adders creep where many a warrior stalked. From our reverie over this gloomy relic of feudal despotism, we were alarmed by a vivid flash of lightning; a loud clap of thunder succeeded, which, reverberating through the ruin, had a most impressive effect: the storm became violent, and seemed to shake the mouldering battlements of the ruin; “from their hills the groaning oaks came down, the sea darkly tumbled beneath the blast, and the roaring waves were climbing against our rocks.”A deluging rain now poured down, and drove us in search of a shelter; the fragments of a spiral staircase offered a descent to a subterraneous part of the castle, and we entered the dark recess of a dungeon, whose mysterious gloom and earthy exhalations might stir up fancy to create things worse

“Than fables yet have feign’d, or fear conceiv’d.”

I thought I heard a voice; my friend thought so too: we listened, but soon smiled at the conjecture; it was probably the hoarse roar of the sea or “eddying winds:” but the damp air of the dungeon threw a chill over us, that was even worse than an exposure to the rain; and we were returning, when a repetition of the noise that we heard before stopped us: we listened, and distinctly heard more than one human voice; the words were undistinguishable, but the tone severe and menacing; all was again silent. My friend and I looked at each other, but neither ventured to impart his thoughts. Conjecture, however, did not remain idle. Was this a horde of those barbarous men that we had heard of as inhabiting these coasts, who, by setting up false lights, betray the unsuspecting marinerson rocks and shoals, and then plunder the wreck, often murdering the crew who may attempt to defend their property? Or was it a gang of smugglers? for such men were known to conceal their stores in unfrequented ruins, and other wild seclusions. We were inclined to favour this latter opinion; but derived little satisfaction from it, on considering that they were scarcely inferior to the former in ferocity; and that if they discovered us, every thing was to be apprehended from a brutal policy, to preserve the secret of their hidings place.

Our reflections were broken off by a further noise, and we plainly heard a hoarse cautioning voice utter, “Only you mind, and we shall have ’em both.” We again appealed to each other’s countenances, but no confidence appeared in either; in silence, I threw out the tuck of my stick; my friend drew a sword from his; for we were so far armed against attack. Again all was hushed; and we ventured to raise ourselves from the dungeon, in order to catch a glimpse of the people with whom we had to deal; when a strong flash of lightning illuminated the whole ruin; and from an aperture near its base; wesaw two men emerge; the one armed with a gun, the other with a spade:—I thought I had never seen two such murderous-hooking fellows: we shrunk to our concealment instinctively; yet not without an apprehension that we had been seen. But our sensations may be easier imagined than described, when within a few yards one of them was heard to say, “Why did you not bring your gun? I shou’dn’t wonder if one got away:” which was answered by, “Only you make sure of one, and I’ll engage to knock the other’s brains out.”

Now knowing the worst, we determined on sallying out; if possible, to reach a little village that we had observed at no great distance; or, if discovered, to endeavour upon closing in with the gunsman before he could take aim! We sprang forward together, and had nearly reached the great entrance when the gun went off; and in the same moment I saw my friend extended among the fragments of the ruin:—without stopping, I rushed on toward the ruffian, hoping to use my stick with good effect before the piece could be re-loaded; when, passing under the portal, down the crevice where formerly theportcullis was suspended, a large fox darted and passed before me. A loud voice now exclaimed, “Dang it you’ve missed hur;” and with no less joy than astonishment I beheld my friend brandishing his sword behind me; we said nothing, but pushed on together, and, suddenly turning an angle, met the villains face to face. Again joy and astonishment struggled for pre-eminence;—they recoiled from us, and, dropping their weapons, with a loud yell darted out of sight!

Such dastardly conduct may appear irreconcilable with the ferocious design of which we suspected them; but cowardice is no stranger to cruelty; and the direct tenor of their expressions forbade a rising suggestion that they intended us no harm. Gathering up the gun and spade as trophies of our victory, and remounting our horses, which remained as they were left, tied up in a nook, we proceeded to the neighbouring village, or rather two or three cottages. By the way I learned, that upon the report of the gun, my friend fell in consequence of turning short upon the slippery fragments of the ruin. On our approaching the village, a number ofmen, women, and children, appeared crowding together with great eagerness; and we were no sooner perceived, than an evident alarm pervaded the cluster, in which was included the two ruffians. However, the peaceable demeanour of the tourists, and the superiority of numbers on the side of the natives, united in procuring a parley; when it evidently appeared that a double misconception had taken place: the men in whose countenances we had read the prognostics of homicide, turned out to be two honest young farmers, who had traced a couple of notorious robbers that had long infested the neighbourhood (a brace of foxes) to their retreat in the castle ruins. This account brought with it a new application of the sentences that we had heard, and we were ashamed of our misconstruction; but the men were not behindhand with us; for, as they frankly declared, from our sudden appearance, they took us either for ghosts or devils. The gun and spade were now returned; and, instead of a deadly encounter, an exchange of good wishes took place, on our leaving the villagers in the pursuit of our journey.

By the time we had reascended to the turnpike, the evening was closing apace; and this circumstance, with the uncomfortable state of the weather, made it a great object with us to take up our night’s quarters as soon as possible. Pembroke was eight miles distant, Carew (called Carey) only two or three, as we were informed by some country-people; we therefore struck off into a bridle-road for the latter place, under their direction; but soon found ourselves at a loss which to choose of three roads that presented themselves; yet, seeing no one of whom we could enquire, we were obliged to advance at hazard; and, after a long ride through mire and loose stones, on meeting with a cottager, were directed to return all the way back, and take a different route. This vexatious task performed, we found ourselves again at a loss, and again took a false route. We were now completely enveloped in the darkness of night; the weather continued stormy; and our craggy road hardly wore the distinctness of a track. In this forlorn condition we slowly paced on, not exclaiming like Ossian’s chief, “Let clouds rest on the hills, spirits fly, and travellers fear;let the winds of the woods arise, the sounding storms descend; roar streams, and windows flap, and green-winged meteors fly; rise the pale moon from behind her hills, or inclose her head in clouds, night is alike to me, blue, stormy, or gloomy the sky.” Alas! it made a sensible difference to us; but at length a distant glimmering of light appeared between the trees, which we gladly traced to a lonely cottage. Here, on our calling out, a tall raw-boned man opened the door, and discovered three others who were regaling round a blazing hearth: these were all miners in a neighbouring coal-work. The uniform black appearance of this group, their long matted, hair half hiding their faces, which caught a ferocious turn from the strong partial light of the fire, was not calculated to inspire prepossession in their favour; but, though in the exterior repulsive as their cheerless occupation, their hearts were not estranged from sensations of benevolence; and yet, so little had they of refinement, as to offer no complimentary condolence on hearing of our difficulties; even yet more unfashionably by actual services they relieved them. “Masters,”said one of the men, “if you’ll but step in a minute while I finish my mess of porridge, I’ll put you into the right road; it can’t be darker than it is; do sit down, and let me put your horses in the cow-house; I suppose you wou’dn’t like our fare (it was a mess of barley and greens stewed with a bit of meat or bacon); but mother can give you a drop of good mead, and some decentish bread and butter.” This invitation, with the manner in which it was conveyed, offered a relief that neither of us was inclined to reject; for, indeed, we had tasted nothing since breakfast, and besides found that some barley might be had for our horses. So seating ourselves in the chimney corner, we partook of the refreshments brought us by an old withered matron, who finished a scene forming a lively counterpart to that of the cavern in Gil Blas. Our dame soon took a leading part in conversation; she gratefully expatiated on the bounty of Providence in sending us a plentiful year, and lamented the misery that prevailed last winter, when, she declared, they were all starving, and many of her neighbours died outright of hunger. This statement I found general throughoutthe country. We left this humble but hospitable roof with regret; nor was it without much difficulty that we could prevail on our hostess to accept of a trifling acknowledgement for her favours.

We again set forward through mire and darkness, conducted by one of the men, who beguiled the time with stories of ghosts that had been seen at Manorbeer castle. At length it became somewhat lighter, and we parted with our friendly guide upon his shewing us the strait road toCarew. “Cold and comfortless,” we knocked at the inn door (for inn is the name of every alehouse in Wales); when, to put a finishing stroke to the troubles of this eventful day, we learned that they had neither beds for us nor stabling for our horses; but we had previously heard, that the village boasted two inns, and accordingly went to the other: a similar information, however, awaited us here; with the additional intelligence, that there was not a stable in the village, and only one spare bed, which was at the other alehouse; there was no alternative; we were constrained to turn our tired and hungry horses into a field, and go back to the first house.

Here our apartment served not only “for parlour and kitchen and hall,” but likewise for bed-room: every thing was in unison, the discoloured state of the walls and furniture; the care-worn looks of our host and hostess; our scanty fare, consisting of hard barley bread and salt butter; with nauseating ale, that even our keen appetites rejected; all betokened poverty and wretchedness: while in the bed, which extended from one side of the room to the other, two children were sending forth the most discordant yells; the one suffering a violent toothache, and the other crying because its brother cried. After enduring this scene of purgatory upwards of an hour, we were shewn to our bed: it was a recess built in an adjoining room, and furnished with a bag of straw, which was kept in its place by a couple of boards crossing the niche. In the same room was another bed, where two more pledges of our landlord’s tender passion continued to torment us. Vexed with accumulating plagues, we threw ourselves half undressed on the bed; but our evil destiny had yet more troubles in store;—the sheets were wringing wet; so that we had reason to expectthat on the morrow we should be laid up with colds or fevers; but this apprehension was soon superseded; for a legion of fleas attacked us at all points with such persevering ferocity, that we were kept in motion the whole night; a number of rats also, by gamboling among our straw, while others were busy in grating a sally port through the partition, held us in the fidgets; and thus the danger of obstructed circulation was avoided. We had just left off cursing rustic accommodation, and the itch for travelling which had led us to these sufferings, when the door opened; no light appeared, but the sound of footsteps, softly treading, passed near us. Suspecting foul play, we instantly sprang up, and caught hold of a poor ragged girl, who acted as maid of the inn, and was going to sleep with the children in the other bed.

This kind of rural accommodation may appear very diverting in a narrative; but to those accustomed to better fare, it will be found a very serious evil. Indeed, from this specimen we afterwards made it a rule to finish our day’s journey at a good town; in consequence of which salutary resolution,except in one or two instances, we were never without a comfortable lodging. This caution is very practicable in South Wales, as the most interesting part of the country is well furnished with accommodation.

Carew Castle

On issuing from our house of mortification, we were regaled with a fine view ofCarew castle, situated on a gentle swell above an arm of Milford-haven. Its extensive remains shew it to have been rather a splendid palace, than a mere fortress; and it evidently appears the work of different ages. The North front, a portion-looking over the river, is scarcely castellated, but exhibits the mode of building in use about the time of Henry the Eighth. From the level of this front, the windows, square and of grand dimensions, project in large bows: internally, this part is highly ornamented; and a chimney-piece with Corinthian columns appears among the latest decorations of the structure. The great hall, built in the ornamented Gothic style, though much dilapidated, is still a noble relic of antique grandeur. Other parts of the building are of more remote date, and most of the walls are remarkably thick and of solid masonry: a peculiarity to be noticed; as theWelch castles are chiefly constructed of grout-work.[62]The subterraneous dungeons are remarkably extensive, and assimilate with the grandeur of the general design. This castle was anciently a residence of the Welch princes, and given by one of them (Rhys ap Theodore), with extensive lands, as a marriage portion with his daughter, to Gerald de Cario, an Anglo-Norman chieftain, and ancestor of the last proprietor of the castle; who, according to the tradition of the neighbourhood, died a hundred and seventy years ago; since which time the castle has been left to decay.

Here many a lofty tower of once menacing aspect lies hid in a leafy umbrage. The spacious hall, that in feudal ages glittered baronial splendor, is now engrafted with ivy, or in mouldering fragments lies an undistinguished heap with the common earth: where once was attuned the sweet song of minstrelsy, is now heard the hoarse note of the raven; no more the high-wrought arras shakes mysteriously from the walls, but an unaffected profusion of ivy mantles the forsaken apartments; beasts graze where dark-plumedbarons sat arrayed; and the hallowed chamber of “my lady bright” is become the resort of bats and screech-owls.

Here the enthusiast, while scanning Gothic halls and “cloud-cap’d towers,” may feel his mind transported to the ages of chivalry, and image all the pageantry of feudal shews! Or, in more humble mood, may look upon their faded grandeur, and venerate a silent monitor of human ostentation.

As we admired the picturesque beauty of this scene, or indulged in the moral reflections to which it gave rise, we forgot our inconveniences and fatigue, and cheerfully returned to the inn. Our horses were in waiting: poor animals! they had no intellectual set-off to solid ill fare that they met with; but, unrid of the previous day’s mire, proceeded with us on the road to Pembroke. On leaving the village, we observed a Gothic cross on the side of the road, about twelve or fourteen feet high, and apparently formed of a single stone: it was carved all over with knots and scrolls, but we did not stop to examine it minutely. On ascending a hill, we had a grand view of the castle: indeed, it is from the south and south-west alone that itsimportant dimensions fully appear: hence also we saw the elevated mansion ofLawrenny, seated on a lofty bank of an arm of Milford-haven, and beautifully accompanied with wood and lawn. This place, particularly excelling in natural beauties, is considered as one of the first seats in Pembrokeshire; and we understood that it had received much improvement from the taste and liberality of Mr. Barlow, the present proprietor. A ride on an elevated ridge, which but for the morning mists would have commanded extensive views, brought us to Pembroke.

The town ofPembrokeprincipally consists of one wide street built along the ridge of a hill (washed by an arm of Milford-haven), and terminated at one extremity by its castle. Although of late declining in commercial importance, the aspect of the town is neat and genteel. Leland says of this town in his time, “it is welle wauled and hath iii gates, est, west, and north; of the wich the est gate is fairest and strongest, having afore hit a compasid tour, not rofid; in the entering where of is a Portcalys,ex solido ferro.” Of these erections there are now but very imperfect remains; we observed, however,that the north gate was still in tolerable repair.

Pembroke Castle

Pembroke castleis a noble ruin, seated on a cliff above the river. Caradoc of Llancaroon says, that it was founded by Arnulph, son to the Earl of Shrewsbury, anno 1094; but Giraldus Cambrensis fixes the time of its erection in the reign of Henry the First, and the rounded arches that occur in the building determine its foundation not to have been later than that prince’s reign. The most remarkable features of this ruin are, the grand entrance, which is still entire; and the juliet, or high round tower, the antient citadel, which has still the “Rofe of stone almost in conum; the top whereof is covered with a flat mille stone;” as described by Leland. The walls of this tower are fourteen feet in thickness; its diameter within is twenty-five feet, and its height to the top of the dome seventy-five feet: from mortices in the walls, this tower appears to have been divided into four floors. The ruined chapel also is a conspicuous object viewed externally;—and immediately underneath it, in the body of the rock, is the Wogan, a grand cavern deemed natural: if it be so, however, Nature has taken morepains in turning it correctly circular, and raising its elevated roof, than she generally is found to have done in works of this kind. Its diameter is fifty-three feet; and just within the entrance we observed a spiral staircase which led through the rock to the chapel within the castle. From the foundations of an outwork, which we traced among shrubs and brambles on the margin of the river, opposite the cavern’s mouth, it appears to have been less a place of concealment than an avowed sally-port, or regular entrance from the river. The castle is remarkable in history for having been the birth-place of Henry the Seventh; and also for the gallant defence that it made for Charles the First.

About two miles from Pembroke, near the road to Tenby, isLamphey Court, an episcopal palace belonging to the see of St. David’s; and, after the alienation, a residence of Lord Essex’s, the favourite of Elizabeth. This dilapidated structure is chiefly remarkable for a light parapet, raised on arches encircling the building, similar to the one noticed at Swansea. From Pembroke, a road extends southward through an uninteresting district toStackpoole court, the seat ofLord Cawdor, situated in a deep romantic valley near the sea-coast. The mansion is worthy of its noble owner; and the finely-wooded park and grounds exhibit a more luxuriant verdure than might be expected so near a sea-beat promontory. A short distance westward, upon the coast, is St. Govin’s chapel; and near it, a well of the same name, thought by the country people to be miraculous in the cure of several disorders. We have since regretted our not visiting the sea-cliffs in this neighbourhood, which we are told assume a very grand and romantic appearance. In the same neighbourhood we find describedBosherston-meer, “a pool of water so deep that it could never be sounded; yet before a storm it is said to bubble, foam, and make a noise so loud as to be heard at several miles distance. The banks are of no great circumference at the top, but broader downwards, and at a considerable depth is a great breach towards the sea, which is about a furlong distant, and is supposed to have a subterraneous communication with it.”[67]

LITTLE ENGLAND BEYOND WALES—MILFORD-HAVEN—WELCH BEAUTIES—HAVERFORDWEST FAIR—THE TOWN, CASTLE, AND PRIORY—PICTON CASTLE—HUBBERSTON—MILFORD.

In the reign of Henry the First, a colony of Flemings, driven from their country by an inundation, were permitted to settle in the western neighbourhood of Milford-haven. These were often attacked by the Welch, but unsuccessfully: they soon extended their territory over a great part of the county, and, in conjunction with the Normans, carried their arms as far as Llanstephan. Camden calls this district, “Little Englandbeyond Wales;” and the difference of appearance, customs, and language, between the inhabitants of southern Pembrokeshire and their neighbours, is strikingly obvious at the present day. The tourist in Caermarthenshirewill scarcely meet a peasant who speaks a word of English; but in an hour’s ride, towards Pembroke, he will find it universally spoken. I remarked this to mine host at Carew; who exultingly assured me, that Pembrokeshire was out of Wales; that he (a native of the place) was an Englishman; and that for his part he did not understand any thing of the Welch gibberish.

The men, tall and well made, evidently incline more to the English character than the Welch; yet they possess some personal traits distinct from either: I imagined, indeed, in many of the peasantry a resemblance to the present inhabitants of Flanders. Although this corner of the principality is the most remote from England, it is the most civilized. This may be accounted for, from the commercial habits brought over by the Flemings (which still continue) introducing the manners of other nations; an advantage denied to the generality of the Welch, whose ancient (perhaps wholesome) prejudices disinclined them to extensive commerce.

We took our final departure from Pembroke, on the road to Haverfordwest, notwithout often looking back on the princely relics of its castle, towering above the river: but, crossing a ridgy eminence, our attention was diverted by the appearance ofMilford-haven.

This noble harbour, immortalized by the strains of our great dramatic poet, is of an oblong figure; about ten miles in length, and from one to two in width. It is justly considered as the best and safest in Great Britain, and inferior to none in Europe; abounding with the best anchorage, and having five bays, ten creeks, and thirteen roads. Two forts that were erected in the time of Elizabeth on the opposite points of the entrance, called Nangle and Dale blockhouses, are now neglected.

As a picturesque object, Milford-haven is chiefly interesting for its noble sheet of water: its peaceable shores, rising in gentle hills, may please from their flowing outline; but, uncloathed with wood, and unbroken into crags or precipices, their sameness fails to interest an eye habituated to bolder scenery. The mouth of the haven, turning suddenly southward, gives it from most points of view the appearance of a lake. It very stronglyreminded me of several of the lakes in Cumberland; but, although its surface is greater; the lakes far transcend it in the accompanyments of rock and wood, and a sedgy margin that mixes its verdure with the water: whereas the haven is surrounded by a broad stripe of mud, except at high tide: this defect, however, is constituent to all estuaries and tide rivers. More richly decorative in their scenery are the three branches of Milford-haven, which diverge at the extremity of the great bason, and distribute fertility and beauty over the principal part of Pembrokeshire.[71]It was our intention to have crossed these branches at Lawrenny and Landshipping, and to have taken Picton castle and Slebatch in our way to Haverfordwest; but, not having a whole day before us, considering the time due to the several objects, and learning that the ferries were uncertain, we recollected our sufferings at Carew, and by taking the directroad to Haverford avoided the risk of being again benighted.[72]

We were detained at the ferry near an hour; for the embarkation and passage of three carriages and their horses from the opposite side occupied all the boats during that time. But, although restless enough ourselves, we were not the most anxious part of a company that was waiting for a passage: several young men and near twenty young women, all dressed in their holiday-clothes, were panting for the amusements of Haverfordwest fair: perhaps a description of these lasses may convey some idea of Pembrokean beauty.

Health, contentment, and cheerfulness, combined, formed their predominant expression: yet it might be truly said, in the words of Gray,

“O’er their warm cheeks and rising bosoms move,The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love,”

A roundish oval circumscribed their faces; their eyes, not over large, of a dark blue,unstrained by the wakeful vigils of fashionable revelry, displayed all the native brilliancy of those interesting organs; their noses, though of the snub kind, were well formed; and pretty pouting lips were ever ready to distend into a smile, on which occasion rows of ivory appeared, such as could hardly be matched out of Pembrokeshire.[73]The tendency toembonpoint, so characteristic of the Welch woman, was by no means displeasing in these young and elastic subjects; whatever was lost in elegance, was compensated in another point of view; their necks, of the most luxuriant prominence,

“With youth wild throbbing”—

were modestly handkerchiefed to their throats; yet did the thin gauze covering, closely embracing the proud distensions of nature, only the more bewitchingly manifest the beauties which it was appointed to conceal. Their other proportions were in unison, and, as a jockey, who was also going to the fair, coarsely,but clearly, observed, “full of hard meat.” In truth, among them, it were no difficult matter to find what Homer would, call—ϑαλερῂν παρακοιτιν. The dress of the Welch women, however, is not calculated to set off their persons: a close mob cap has little grace, especially when surmounted with a round felt hat; and their very long waists, and brown or plaid cloth jackets and petticoats, but render the rotundity of their foundations more unpicturesque. It cannot at present be said, that:

—“their tender limbsFloat in the loose simplicity of dress.”

yet, as the smart girls begin to imitate our English modes, in the course of a few years every contour of nature may be as free public inspection in Wales, as it is at present in the polite circles of the metropolis.

Crossing the ferry, we left this interesting group; and, in proceeding up a high bank of the haven, enjoyed a fine view of its expansive surface, and grand undulating shores. About half-way to Haverfordwest a new scene burst upon us, consisting of a wide luxuriant valley, watered by a large arm of Milford-haven. We were denied a distinct view of this scene by a hazy atmosphere; but are informedthat it is uncommonly rich and extensive in clear weather. On approaching the town of Haverfordwest up a laborious ascent, we passed through the fair, which is held just without the town. Black cattle and horses were the chief objects of the meeting, which had scarcely any diversions; no shews: nor any jugglers, except a recruiting party, and two or three cattle jobbers, or middle men, who agreed upon the price of the market, while the actual buyers and sellers stood gaping at each other, in amazement how such prices could be obtained! Perhaps they had to learn, that for anindispensable commodity, exclusively held by a set of men whose interests are common,anyprice may be obtained! But we had some rural sports: a party of rustics were dancing on the green, to the notes of a miserable scraper; yet of him it could not be said,

“Old Orpheus play’d so well he mov’d old Nick;But thou mov’st nothing but thy fiddle-stick,”

for the reeking brows of his company very plainly evinced the laborious agitation that he had excited. Close by, a game at see-saw seemed to create much diversion among the bye-standers. We joined in the throng, and wereentertained with a good-natured dispute between a comely lad and as blythe a lass as any the fair could boast: they were in the midst of their acquaintance; and we learned from one of them, that on the following Sunday they were to be married: he wished her to ride with him at see-saw, and she persisted in refusing; he hauled her to no purpose, until a sharp-looking little girl said, that if she were in his place she would put off the wedding for a fortnight, to be revenged; a loud laugh succeeded this, at the expence of the bride-elect; but the allusion to matrimony forced no downcast confusion on the lass; perhaps her rosy dimples were painted with a deeper hue; yet the suffusion arose rather from a glowing idea, than a sensation of unnecessary shame: wherefore should she be ashamed of the approaching fulfilment of her long-cherished wishes?—I do not know whether she feared that her lover might adopt the advice of her mischievous friend, or whether it was the natural compliance of the sex disqualifying them for stout denial, that acted upon her; but she at length yielded. Alas, poor damsel! she was not yet an adept at see-saw; and a verification of Buxoma’smischance was witnessed by the whole Company:

“Cuddy.—Across the fallen oak the plant I laid,And myself pois’d against the tott’ring maid.High leap’d the plank, adown Buxoma fell:I spy’d—but faithful sweethearts never tell.”

The town ofHaverfordwestirregularly built on the steep bank of the riverHia, may now be considered as the capital of Pembrokeshire; as well on account of its superior extent and opulence, as from its having lately become the place of the grand session. But the streets are narrow and dirty, and so steep as to be seriously dangerous. A few good houses, among which is a residence of the dowager lady Kensington, start up here and there; but in such situations, as to convey no look of importance to the place. However commerce may have diffused wealth through this town, and proclaimed it the successful rival of Pembroke; yet, compared with the clean, placid, and respectable mien of the latter, it ensures no pre-eminence of esteem from the tourist: it may, indeed, present to him the idea of a purse-proud shop-keeper, strutting before a decayed gentleman.

The castle, seated on a cliff adjoining the town, is said to have been built by Gilbert Earl of Clare, in the reign of King Stephen, and was occupied by the Flemings. Though still possessing considerable portions of its former importance, yet, engrafted with modern additions to fit it for the county jail, it has little picturesque attraction. A wall connected with the castle, which once surrounded the town, is still in part standing: a good quay, a custom house, a free school, a charity school, and an alms house, are among the public concerns of this town. Of three churches that it boasts, that of St. Mary is a neat building; and its spire, covered with shingles and warped from the perpendicular, has a curious effect. A short distance southward of the town, near the river, are some remains of a priory of Black cantons, founded by John de Haverford.

An excursion of three or four miles led us toPicton castle, the noble seat of lord Milford, whose extensive domains cover a great part of the surrounding country. This may be considered as one of the most antique residences in the kingdom, having been builtby William de Picton, a Norman knight, in the reign of William Rufus. Upon his line’s becoming extinct, it descended to the Wogans, then to the Dones, and afterwards to the Philipses of Kylsant; and during the Civil Wars, Sir Richard Philips made a long and vigorous defence in it for King Charles. It is one of the very few castles that escaped the dilapidations of Cromwell, and is also remarkable for having been always inhabited; yet the alterations and additions of successive occupiers have not deprived it of its embattled figure. The extensive and delightful plantations of this seat unite with those of Slebatch, a handsome house built by the late Mr. Barlow, and now in the possession of Mr. Philips.

In another excursion from Haverfordwest, passing Johnston, an old seat of Lord Kensington’s, to the obliging communications of which nobleman I feel myself greatly indebted, we reachedHubberston Haikin, a fishing town in Milford-haven, whence the Waterford packets depart from Britain. This is a poor place, and ill-supplied with accommodation for travellers; but at the still smallertown ofMilford, on the opposite side of the river, we were informed, a good inn is established. Near Hubberston are the small remains of a priory, consisting chiefly of the gate-house; but of what foundation or order no legend informs us.

JOURNEY OVER THE PRECELLY MOUNTAIN TO CARDIGAN—EXTENSIVE PROSPECT—CARDIGAN—ST. DOGMAEL’S PRIORY—ANOTHER ROUTE FROM HAVERFORDWEST TO CARDIGAN, BY ST. DAVID’S—THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. DAVID’S—GRAND RUINS OF ITS PALACE—A LOGGAN, OR ROCKING STONE—RAMSAY ISLAND—FISHGUARD—NEWPORT—KILGARRAN CASTLE—SALMON LEAP—NEWCASTLE.

The choice of our journey from Haverfordwest[81]to Cardigan was a matter of some difficulty; we were desirous of traversing thePrecelly Mountain, but could not think of leaving the ruins of St. David’s unexamined. At last we hit upon the expedient of each taking a different road: my companion, having the better horse, took the circuitous route by St. David’s; and I, the direct road over the mountains.

Proceeding upon this arrangement two of three miles, I halted to take a retrospective view of the country. Haverfordwest new wore a singular appearance, with its houses piled on each other; but, accompanied by a fine river well furnished with vessels, and by its bridge and massive castle, it presented an agreeable picture. At some distance westward, the lofty tower of Roche castle was conspicuous; and partly in the same direction, the Trogan rocks, rising from the verdure in abrupt crags, so as to be generally mistaken for stupendous ruins. Turning to the east, within a short distance appeared anancient encampment calledSt. Leonard’s rathe, crowning a bold eminence; this work is circular, and, from the height of its vallum and depth of its ditch, may be attributed to the Saxons.

As I advanced from this spot I parted with the beauties of the country: no objects of interest occurred; the unadorned views became compressed in narrow limits, until at length they were shut up in mountainous hollows. In this dreary track stands a poor solitary house called New inn, half way between Haverford and Cardigan: however, I here obtained part of a goose for my dinner, and then proceeded up thePrecelly Mountain.

This mountain, reckoned the highest in South Wales, is part of a great ridge crossing Pembrokeshire in a direction East and West. On gaining the summit, a prodigious extent of prospect burst upon me. In front, a wild hilly tract, yet not undiversified with patches of cultivation, stretched nearly to the northern confines of South Wales, where the pale summit of Plinlimmon, in Montgomeryshire, might be just distinguished from the atmospheric blue: more westward, beyond a vast expanseof sea, like a doubtful mist rising from it, appeared Bardsey island, and the neighbouring shores in Caernarvonshire; and looking across the miserable country about Fishguard and St. David’s, my guide assured me, that “on a very clear day a very good eye might discover the mountains of Ireland;” but, I confess, it was not my good fortune to discover any such appearance. On looking backward, the whole of the interesting country that I had travelled in the neighbourhood of Milford-haven appeared in one comprehensive though distant display. From dwelling a considerable time on these extensive scenes, I traversed an uninteresting country made up of lumpy hills, and left Pembrokeshire in crossing the handsome old bridge of Cardigan.

Cardigan(in Welch chronicles Abertivy[84]) is a neat respectable town, though many of its streets are narrow and steep, seated on the north bank of the river Tivy, near its junction with the sea: the river is navigable for ships of small burthen up to the quay, which enables the inhabitants to carry on a prettybrisk trade with Ireland. This town, though small, is governed by a mayor, thirteen aldermen, and as many common councilmen. The ruins of its castle, appearing on a low cliff at the foot of the bridge, are very inconsiderable, scarcely showing more than the fragments of two circular bastions overgrown with ivy; yet it was once a large and important fortress. Its foundation is ascribed to Gilbert de Clare, about the year 1160; but it was soon after taken, and in part destroyed, by Rhys ap Gryffith.[85]

Here are also the remains of a priory of Black monks, which was dedicated to St. Mary, and was subordinate to the abbey of Chertsey in Surrey.

Near Cardigan, in the year 1136, the English army, commanded by Ranolph earlof Chester, was shamefully worsted, and the two barons Robert Fitz Roger and Pain Fitz John, with 3000 others, slain on the spot, besides a great number drowned by the fall of a bridge. In this battle the English soldiers appeared to be planet-struck, surrendering themselves prisoners to mere old women; and the general with a few men made their escape not without great difficulty.

St. Dogmael’s Priory

Early in the morning after my reaching Cardigan, I made an excursion in search ofSt. Dogmael’s Priory, about a mile and a half distant. This fragment of antiquity is very much dilapidated, and boasts scarcely any picturesque appearance; the few parts standing are converted into barns, sheds, and habitations; but enough remains to shew the original extent of the church; which was cruciform, of no considerable dimensions, and of the early Gothic style; in the cemetery adjoining the ruin, and the village church,

—“a church-yard yew,Decay’d and worn with age,”

has a pleasing characteristic effect: and here the scene, finely interspersed with wood, and overlooking the Tivy, is undoubtedly picturesque. This priory was founded for Benedictinemonks by Martin de Turribus, a Norman chieftain, who first conquered the surrounding territory called Kames or Kemish, and deluged it with the blood of its natives. This was a common trick for cheating the devil, practised by the organized plunderers of that day. After pillaging a country, and enslaving or massacreing the legitimate proprietors, they hoped to expiate their crime, and quell the rising qualms of conscience, by appropriating a part of their booty to a monkish foundation—to a set of idle jugglers, scarcely less inimical to the rights of society, though less ferocious, than themselves.

Returning to the inn, I rejoined my fellow-tourist, who had just completed his circuit of between forty and fifty miles round the coast: of this route I learn the following particulars:

From Haverfordwest the road passes neat the elevated ruin of Roche castle; thence extends through a wild dreary country, near St. Bride’s dangerous bay, and crossed the romantic creek of Solva to the once flourishing city ofSt. David’s, now in appearance an inconsiderable village. This deserted placeoccupies a gentle eminence on that projecting rocky cape called St. David’s head. In a sheltered hollow beneath the town, are the noble ruins of the Metropolitan episcopacy of Wales; yet theCathedral of St. David’s, though long a mouldering pile, having lately undergone a thorough repair, with a just attention to the antique style of architecture, now appears in renewed magnificence. This venerable structure is cruciform, of large dimensions, and of the early Gothic architecture, though not without much of the high-wrought fret-work additions of later ages. The nave alone wears all the simplicity of its original construction; the tower, highly ornamented, rises from the middle of the church to the height of 127 feet; Bishop Vaughan’s chapel behind the choir, and the dilapidated one of St. Mary’s, exhibit all the elegant tracery of the ornamented Gothic; as does also the chapter-house, and St. Mary’s hall, now a ruin. Among the numerous ancient monuments that are to be met with in the church and its chapels, those of Owen Tudor, and Edward Earl of Richmond, father of Henry the VIIth, both situated near the middle of the choir, are worthy of notice.

The episcopal palace is a superb ruin, surmounted with a light parapet raised upon arches, in the style of Swansea castle and Lamphey court. “The area of the great court is 120 feet square; on the east side of which is the Bishop’s hall, 58 feet in length, and 23 in breadth; the King’s hall, on the south side, is 88 feet by 80. This grand saloon is said to have been built expressly for the reception of King John, on his return from Ireland in 1211.” But we are informed by Godwin, that the palace itself was not erected until about the year 1335: which must be an anachronism, unless the story of King John be unfounded. The first hall is a grand room; but the latter has been particularly splendid. Over the fine arched entrance are the statues of King John and his queen; and at the cast end is a curious circular window with bars diverging from the centre, still in a perfect condition. The chapel containing the remains of a font, and kitchen amply furnished with four chimneys, are also entire: nor are the forsaken apartments deficient in proofs of the regal splendor assumed by the Romish pastors of Christian humility.

Many ruinous buildings, once habitations of ecclesiastical functionaries, surround the cathedral; yet sufficient are kept in repair for the diminished number of officers now appointed: the cathedral service is, nevertheless, performed with an attention that would do credit to more eminent establishments. The whole of these buildings are inclosed by a wall eleven hundred yards in circumference.

St. David’s is supposed to have been a Roman station, the Octapitarum of Ptolemy; and here St. Patrick is said to have founded a monastery to the honour of St. Andrew in the year 470: to this place St. David translated the archbishopric of Wales, from Caerleon, about the year 577, and founded the cathedral, which was afterwards dedicated to him; but the primacy was withdrawn, and annexed to that of Canterbury, in the reign of Henry the First. Here also a college was founded for a master and seven priests by John Duke of Lancaster, in conjunction with his wife and the Bishop of the diocese, in the year 1369.

At the extremity of St. David’s promontory is a disjointed craig; so large, that it is supposed a hundred oxen could not drag it away;but so placed on smaller stones, as to have been easily rocked by the pressure of a man’s hand.[91]

In druidical ages, this formed the grand ordeal: if a man was to appear guilty, the priests managed that he should apply his pressure near the axis, and the stone remained immoveable; but if his peace or priest offerings were deemed commensurate to his sins, he was instructed to lean near the extremity, and it easily gave way. Near this head-land is Ramsay island, a fruitful little spot, and once particularly so in holiness, if we may credit ancient histories, which state that no less than twenty thousand saints lie interred in it. The dangerous rocks called the Bishop and his Clerks, near this island, are covered with wild fowl in the breeding season.

The road continues on a barren tempestuous waste to Fishguard, a miserable fishing town, only remarkable for the late descent of 1400 French invaders, who, after a few days possession of the neighbourhood, surrendered to the Welch peasantry, headed by Lord Cawdor. Newport, a few miles farther, isanother poor fishing town, at the bottom of a small bay: the ruined castle, seated on a hill above the town, was built by the Anglo-norman settlers in 1215, but afterwards nearly destroyed by Llewellyn. In Nevern churchyard, near Newport, is the shaft of a stone cross about thirteen feet high, curiously carved all over with scrolls and knots. At Pentere Evau, in Nevern parish, is a circle of rude stones, 150 feet in circumference; in the midst whereof is a cromlech[92]of great dimensions: in the same parish is another altar monument, called Llech-y-drybedh, having a furrow in the flat stone, which might be to carry off the blood of the victims. In Grose’s Antiquities, five stone altars are stated to be in this neighbourhood, and also four barrows; one of which, on being opened, was found to contain five urns full of burnt bones. Nothing worthy of particular notice occurs from this spat to Cardigan.

We projected an aquatic excursion, to explore the scenery of the Tivy; but, the tide not answering, we were obliged to desert the river for two or three miles, and proceed byland to Kilgarran. The Tivy above Cardigan becomes environed by high hills, whose approaching bases contract the bed of the river, changing its character from a broad and majestic, to an impetuous eddying stream: the sides of these hills rise from the water in almost perpendicular steepness, yet clothed with trees from the river’s brink to their ridgy summits. In the midst of this imbowered glen, a naked rock, crowned with the truly picturesque remains of Kilgarran castle, proudly advances, and forms a striking contrast to the dark rich verdure that prevails in the other accompanyments of the river.

Kilgarran Castle

The position of Kilgarran castle is nearly on all sides self-defended; but on the isthmus that connects the projecting rock with the main land, two ponderous round towers seem to have formerly defied the assault of war, as they now do that of pilfering dilapidation. The broken walls, watch-towers, and apartments that compose the minor parts of this fortress, bespeak it to have been of no great original extent, or highly ornamented; yet the scattered relics, variously interwoven with ivy, offer an appearance from most points of view highly imposing and grand.

The foundation of the castle is uncertain, and the styles of different ages appear throughout the building. According to Carradoc, this fortress was erected about the year 1222, when Marshall Earl of Striquil (Chepstow) vanquished the Welch under their Prince Gruffydth, and gained an undisputed footing in these parts. The town of Kilgarran is diminished into one street, thinly inhabited by labouring farmers and fishermen.

In a romantic hollow, a mile or two higher up, the Tivy, throwing itself over a ledge of rock in one bold sheet, though not more than six feet in depth, forms a salmon leap generally esteemed the most remarkable in Wales. The salmon, in its course up the river, meeting with the fall, coils itself into a circle, and by a sudden distension springs up the precipice, and cleaves the torrent with astonishing vigour;[94]yet it is frequently baffled, and greatly amuses the spectator with its repeated attempts to overleap the cataract. We were not entertained with this display of strength and agility on our visit, but were much interested by the curious means employedin catching the fish. The fisherman is seated in a sort of canoe, called a coracle, formed of open basket-work of thin laths, covered with a horse’s hide, or a well-pitched piece of sail-cloth: the vessel is of a figure nearly oval, about four feet and a half long and three wide, yet so light as to be carried with ease on the man’s shoulder from his home to the river: in this he whirls among the eddies of the river; with a paddle in one hand, he alters or accelerates his course with surprizing dexterity; while with the other he manages the net, the line being held between his teeth. In this way the fishing in most of the rivers of Wales is pursued. Coracles have been peculiar to British rivers from time immemorial. Lucan very clearly describes them; and in latter times, Sir Walter Raleigh relates, that “the Britons had boats made of willow twigs covered on the outside with hides.”

Near the water-fall is a manufacture of iron and tinned plates, belonging to Sir Benjamin Hammet. Two or three miles higher up the river isNewcastle, a small irregular town situated upon its banks, and graced with the venerable ruins of a castle, but of no greatantiquity. Thence a road of twenty miles extends through a dreary uninteresting country to Caermarthen.

A more romantic and sequestered path than is traced beside “the hollow stream that roars between the hills” from Lechryd bridge to Llangoedmor on the north margin of the river, can scarcely be imagined; continuing upwards of two miles, beneath the umbrage of its high and well-wooded banks, and commanding delightful landscapes of the sombre kind at every turn. In the parish of Llangoedmor, we learned, there were several monuments of the druidical ages: one is a remarkably large cromlech; the flat stone being eight or nine yards in circumference, with one edge resting on the ground: there is a smaller monument of the same kind near it; also a circle of rude stones about twelve yards round; and five beds of loose stones, each about six feet over. Llechly gowress (the stone of a giantess) in the parish of Neuodh, also near Cardigan, is another very large cromlech; and near it is a parcel of large hewn stones nineteen in number; which, it is said by the vulgar, cannot be counted.

LLANARTH—ABERAERON—LLANSANFRIED—LLANRHYSTID—AN ENQUIRY INTO A STRANGE ASSERTED CUSTOM RELATING TO THE MODE OF COURTSHIP IN WALES—LLANBADARNVAWR—ABERISTWYTH, AND ITS CASTLE.

We left Cardigan on the road to Aberistwyth, and soon entered upon the same dreary kind of country that we noticed in the north and north-west of Pembrokeshire. At the poor village of Blaneporth, on the left of the road, is a large circular area encompassed by a moat, which is most probably the remains of a British fortification. Castel-Yn-dalig, a mile or two further, is a similar work, but much larger and less distinct.Thence we began to ascend a tract of lofty hills (leaving Penrhyn church on our left near the sea-shore[98]), and, gaining a considerable eminence, enjoyed an uninterrupted view over the whole sweep of Cardigan’s extensive bay. This bay, from its southern limit, Strumblehead near Fishguard, stretching northward, extends a vast gulph into North Wales, and is at length terminated by Bardsey island in Caernarvonshire: it often proves a shelter to ships in the Irish trade, and contains several good harbours. The effect of this extensive display from the great elevations that we traversed was extremely striking; stretching from beneath us to a remote horizon the sea, exhibited a silvery surface of immense magnitude; while the shores presented an endless variety of bold advancing promontories, overhanging cliffs, and high swelling mountains wild and desolate; yethere and there a stripe of green meadow appeared on a favoured slope, and a few woody plantations disclosed themselves through picturesque hollows. In the distant boundary of Caernarvonshire, the projecting and receding hills about Pulhelly bay were conspicuous; opposed to these, the superior magnitude of Cader-Idris arrested the attention, towering among the craggy summits of the Merionethshire mountains. From the bay our view roamed over a dreary uninteresting tract of country, to a ridge of mountains, whose broken outline mixing with the clouds defined the entrance of North-Wales; where, proudly rising above competition, the confederated mountains, forming the pile of “Mighty Plinlimmon,” appear in all their majesty.

The consideration of these distant objects, and the attention demanded by a stumbling horse, were my chief employments from Cardigan to Aberistwyth: yet the general tediousness of our ride, upon a rocky track here called a turnpike, had some relief as we passed throughLlanarth, amarket-town, consisting of half a dozen huts seated in a romantic hollow; andAberaeron, aboutfour miles further, a neat village near the seashore, pleasingly situated at the entrance of an abrupt well-wooded valley. Near its picturesque bridge there is a more comfortable inn than might be expected in so retired a situation; and, as it afterwards appeared, the only tolerable one between Cardigan and Aberistwyth. From this place the road, bordering the sea-shore, became more level; and we soon came within view of the fragments of a castle on the beach, the greater part of which appears to have been washed away by the action of the sea. This fort was probably erected by the Normans to cover their landing or retreat, when, in the reign of William Rufus, they fitted out a fleet, and, descending on the coast of Cardiganshire, conquered or ravaged the maritime country to a considerable distance. Most of the principal towns then fell into their hands, upon which they affected the government; but, as a measure of no less necessity than policy, assigned their power to Kadugan ap Bledin, a British chief of high authority, who strictly adhered to their interest. His son Owen however, rashly attacking the Normans and Flemings who had lately settled in the neighbouringterritory southward, was, with his father, obliged to fly into Ireland. Henry the First then entrusted the country to Gilbert Clare, who raised many fortifications within the district. Kadugan and his son Owen were nevertheless soon after restored to their lands; but this son, committing fresh incursions, was slain by Gerald of Pembroke, whose wife Nestra he had carried away. Old Kadugan became a prisoner in England for a length of time, but was in the end restored to his estates; when he was suddenly stabbed by his nephew Madok. Henry the Second afterwards gave this tract of country to Roger de Clare; whose son Richard earl of Clare being slain in a contest with the Welch, Rhys, prince of South-Wales, attacked and vanquished the Anglo-Normans with great slaughter, and reduced them under his dominion. But by degrees Cardigan returned to the hands of the English until the final conquest of the country by Edward the First.

We soon after passed through the dreary village ofLlansansfried, where a monastery is conjectured to have existed; and about two miles further enteredLlanrhystid,which place is assigned to be the site of another.

As we entered the latter village, “the dark mists of night” fell over us. We therefore finished our day’s journey at the Red Lion inn, a tolerably decent ale-house, where we were presently joined by a man in a labourer’s habit, whom we had observed on the road in very gallant intercourse with a peasant girl, and had rallied on the occasion; yet were we not a little surprized at finding him not only a man of extensive information, but a classical scholar and a well-bred gentleman. On his leaving the room, we had an opportunity of enquiring who this character was, and learned from our landlord that he was a native ’squire, who lived about ten miles distant, who till lately had been in orders and officiated in London; but on the death of his father had thrown off the gown and become a man of pleasure. “Though he is so shabbily dressed,” said our host, “it is only a frolic, for he is a very able man.” Now, as the termablein Wales is synonymous with rich in other places, we enquired the amount of his income, and found it to benear a hundred a year.

This gentleman proved a most agreeable and useful companion during the evening; but we were sorry to observe in him a professed Epicurean; the gratification of his appetites he declared to be his great object, and defended his practice on what he termed the fundamental principles of nature; nor was he in want of an ingenious sophism against every point of attack. We concluded that this gentleman’s habits would qualify him with due knowledge on a singular custom that is said to prevail in Wales, relating to their mode of courtship; which is declared to be carried on in bed; and, what is more extraordinary, it is averred, that the moving tale of love is agitated in that situation without endangering a breach in the preliminaries. Mr. Pratt, in his “Gleanings,” thus affirms himself aneye-witnessof the process: “The servant-maid of the family I visited in Caernarvonshire happened to be the object of a young peasant, who walked eleven long miles every Sunday morning to favour his suit; he usually arrived in time for morning’s service, which he constantly attended; after which he escorted his dulcinea home to the house of her master, by whose permissionthey as constantly passed the succeeding hours in bed, according to the custom of the country. This tender intercourse continued without any interruption near two years, when the treaty of alliance was solemnized.” Our companion, like every one else that we spoke with in Wales on the subject, at once denied the existence of this custom: that maids in many instates admitted male bed-fellows, he did not doubt; but that the procedure was sanctioned bytolerated customhe considered a gross misrepresentation. Yet in Anglesea and some parts of North Wales, where the original simplicity of manners and high sense of chastity of the natives is retained, he admittedsomething of the kindmight appear. In those thinly inhabited districts, a peasant often has several miles to walk after the hours of labour, to visit his mistress; those who have reciprocally entertained thebelle passionwill easily imagine, that before the lovers grow tired of each other’s company the night will be far enough advanced; nor is it surprizing, that a tender-hearted damsel should be disinclined to turn her lover out over bogs and mountains until the dawn of day. The fact is,that under such circumstances she admits aconsors lecti, but notin nudatum corpus. In a lowly Welch hut, this bedding has not the alarm of ceremony: from sitting or perhaps lying on the hearth, they have only to shift their quarters to a heap of straw or fern covered with two or three blankets in a neighbouring cornet. The practice only takes place withthis view of accommodation.

At an early hour in the morning we left our “flinty couch” at Llanrhystid; though rendered, by a day of healthful fatigue, “a thrice-driven bed of down;” and, skirting the sea, the resumed the views of the preceding day. Advancing about two miles, we remarked, on a gentle eminence in a field to the left of the road; several rough-hewn stones patched over with the “moss of the centuries:” two of these, remaining upright, are massive paralellopipeds, from eight to ten feet high, standing within a yard or two of each other; among the other stones lying about in different directions, I could trace no indication of a circle; it has, however, been supposed to be a Druidical temple; although the two upright stones might rather seem to mark the “narrow house” of some departedwarrior. We soon after descended into the abrupt vale of Ystwith, and crossed its river over a picturesque bridge, venerably mantled with ivy.[106]Our route continued over the high ridgy hills that divide the parallel vales of Ystwith and Rhydol, the latter of which presented an agreeable contrast to the dreary country through which we had travelled from within a few miles of Haverfordwest.—Here, among extensive meadows of the richest verdure, the meandering Rhydol wantons its fantastic course. On a gentle eminence near its banks, in the midst of the valley, appears the embowered town ofLlanbadarn-vawr, a picturesque though deserted spot, yet once a Roman city, and afterwards the seat of an Episcopacy and Monastery established by St. Paternus in the beginning of the sixth century. The church is yet a handsome building. Between this town and the sea-coast is a small ancient fortification, consisting of a square area surrounded by a wall with a tower at one of theangles. A range of wild hills, backed by the stupendous Plinlimmon, forms the opposite boundary of this valley; and at its termination in the sea-coast, the town of Aberistwyth appears in a very picturesque light on the brink of the sea, with its ruined castle on a gentle rise to the left.

Aberistwythis a less agreeable town on entering it, than as a distant object. Most of the streets are narrow and ill-paved; and the stone used being of a black colour, gives the whole rather a dirty appearance; but this remark is not applicable to some houses that have lately sprung up for the genteel company which resorts to it in the bathing-season. Nor must I mention the bathing at Aberistwyth, without observing, that it is conducted with more propriety than at any other watering-place that I have seen in England or Wales. The ladies’ and gentlemen’s machines are placed nearly a quarter of a mile asunder; and the indecency of promiscuous dipping, so disgusting at more fashionable resorts, is in consequence avoided: the bathing too is excellent, with a good sandy bottom at all hours of the tide.

The castle, seated on a craggy eminence projecting into the sea, westward of the town, is so much dilapidated, as scarcely to present a characterizing form: but there is an agreeable public walk traced through the ruin, which commands a view of the sea and the neighbouring coast; with the little port (common to the Rhydol and Ystwith rivers) well filled with fishing vessels just below the cliff. This spot is also enlivened by a tasteful residence of Lady Juliana Penn’s, lately erected near the ruin, with much appropriate effect, in the form of a gatehouse. Aberistwyth castle was founded by Gilbert de Strongbow, son of Richard de Clare, in the reign of Henry the First; but soon after its erection it fell into the hands of the Welch princes, and was destroyed in their intestine quarrels. Powell says, that the present castle was built by Edward the First, anno 1277, a short time before the complete conquest of Wales. It appears to have been a strong place, as a garrison of King Charles maintained it for some time after his death.

Among the mountains in the neighbourhood of Aberistwyth, a number of lead andsilver mines were discovered about three centuries back; and in the reign of Elizabeth a company of Germans reaped a great fortune in the enterprize of working them. Sir Hugh Middleton, after them, was equally successful, netting 2000l.a month out of one silver mine. He was succeeded by a Mr. Bushel, who also gained immense profit from the works; insomuch that in the civil wars he made King Charles a present of a regiment of horse, and clothed his whole army. The company of mine-adventurers worked these mines also with success, until they fell out among themselves, to their own injury, and that of the mining interest throughout the country; and I believe that these works have been deserted ever since.

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