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 of Manorbeer 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 to the 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 mariners on 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; we saw 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 the portcullis 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 of men, 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 throughout the 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 to Carew. “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 expect that 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 of Carew 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 the Welch 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-plumed barons 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 its important dimensions fully appear: hence also we saw the elevated mansion of Lawrenny, 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 of Pembroke principally 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 castle is 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 more pains 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, is Lamphey 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 to Stackpoole court, the seat of Lord 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 described Bosherston-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]