PEMBROKE.
Mr. Wyndham has so minutely delineated the present state of this castle, that I cannot do better than transcribe his account:
“The approach to Pembroke from the river shows the town and castle to the most beautiful advantage. The town is situated upon the ridge of a long and narrow rock, gradually ascending to the highest point, on which stands the castle, at the brink of the precipice. If I may compare small things with great, it much resembles the situation of Edinburgh.
“The castle is of Norman architecture, mixed with early Gothic. The principal tower, which is uncommonly high and perfect, has even its stone vaulted roof remaining. The walls of this tower are fourteen feet in thickness, the diameter of the space within is twenty-five, and the height, from the ground to the crown of the dome, is seventy-five feet; but visible marks appear within, that its height was originally divided by four floors.
“King Henry VII. was born in the present castle. The natural cavern, called the Wogan, lies immediately under the chapel, and opens with a wide mouth towards the river. A communication from the cavern to the castle was made by a staircase, on the outside of the rock; the entrance was barricaded with a strong wall, partly remaining, through which there is now a large door-way opened to the shore of the river. The cavern appears nearly circular; its diameter is fifty-three feet; and its height is proportionable to the diameter.
“In the civil war this castle was a garrison for the crown; and being besieged, made a gallant defence.” In a cavern under this castle is a remarkable echo.
Pembroke is by many still considered the next town, in South Wales, to Caermarthen; but, although the situation is fine, and the main street good, still the residue of the town shows evident symptoms of decay, and that it lacks that trade and notice which Haverfordwest is deriving from its downfall. It gives the title of Earl to the Herbert family.
The two churches within the walls are ancient. St. Michael’s is of Norman architecture; it is at the east end of the town: St. Mary’s in the centre of it. The priory church has its nave vaulted with stone; it is paved with glazed bricks, with arms, flowers, &c. upon them. Near the church is the prior’s mansion, which still exhibits proofs of its former splendour and the large establishment of its possessors: it is now become a humble dilapidated farm-house; and, to trace its origin, you must go to the foundation. In 1811 Pembroke contained 501 houses, and a population of 2415 persons. From hence is a pleasant excursion, the account of which, as given by Mr. Fenton, in his work on Pembrokeshire, I subjoin:—
“Quitting the magnificent ruins of Pembroke, pass through Monkton, from the height of which an admirable view may be attained; reach Dry Burrows, a furzy moor, covered with tumuli. To the left stands Orielton. Here, turn to the right, passing Castleton, still you will observe various tumuli: from this height to the right, the navigation from Pennarmouth to the town of Pembroke. The coast here is famous for oysters of superior excellence, in inexhaustible quantities. Descend by Hênllan, anciently inhabited by the descendants of Gwynfard Dyfed: hence to Pwllcrochon church-yard, upon a small creek of Milford Haven, in which a memorable skirmish took place between the king’s and parliament’s forces. The parish church of Rhôscrowther is dignified with a handsome tower, and the interior contains some figures well sculptured: distant a quarter of a mile stands Iestingtown, or vulgarly Iseston, long the residence of the family of Meares; it appears to have been castellated. Not far from the church is a well, called St. Degmen’s, to which great virtues have been ascribed. Skirting the Bay of Nangle, reach the village of that name, so called from being somewhat placed in angulo. It bears marks of former consequence: in the church is a monument to Brigadier Ferrars. To the north of a brook, running behind the church-yard, are the remains of a considerable building, with a square tower, called the castle, said to have been the principal residence of the Sherborne’s, ancient Lords of the Vill; it is now an inn. Hence along the coast is a block-house, a singular building, reared upon the very edge of a horrid precipice overhanging the sea, fronting another upon the dale side of Milford. The masonry of these buildings is excellent; their origin is uncertain. Leaving Bangeston on the left, after passing over a sandy tract, you reach the village of Castle Martin, an ancient British post, part of the works of which are still remaining. A little further is Merion Court, belonging to Lord Cawdor; and, near to the village, to the north-east, a British circular camp. The road now passes the extremity of Lord Cawdor’s property at Brawnslade, farmed on the most improved principles. Still further along the coast is Bully Bear, where are the remains of a fortified camp. Hence to Linney Point, and the Head of Man, a promontory of great height, awfully overhanging its base: near this, a fine view of an insulated rock, called Pennyholt Stock, pass the Wash to a Danish camp; in which is that wonderful chasm called the Caldron: the entrance to the camp is by a winding ascent; it has been of considerable extent and great strength; and, with the Caldron and rock, most curious and worthy of observation. Bosherton Meer is occasionally agitated to such an extent as to be heard at a considerable distance—resembling thunder, and its foam rising many feet above the mouth of the pit. At a short distance to the east, is a fissure in the cliffs not discernable till nearly on its edge, called Penny’s and Adam’s Leap, over which these hunters were precipitated: proceed to the Horse Block, and St. Govan’s Chapel and Well, to the latter of which great virtues are ascribed. The surrounding scenery is in the highest degree picturesque: the larger bay is surrounded by cliffs, in the form of an amphitheatre; that in which the hermitage is placed is truly romantic. In proceeding to Stackpool Court, after again gaining the height, you pass Buckspool, and from thence to Bosherton; below the village, pass under a tongue of land, on which are the remains of a strong encampment; near this is a small cavern, in the Limestone Rock, where human bones have been found. Harold is said to have infested this coast, and to have left marks of his predatory victories inscribed—
Hick Haroldus victor fuit.
Of three stones, the most east stands in Stackpool Park Warren, pitched upon one end; the second, surmounting a carnedd, is in a field called Horsestone Park, consisting of a great mass of limestone, six feet above the ground, five in breadth, and a foot in thickness; it is bedded in an almost circular mound of stones. The third stone is upon the same line, but more west; it is the tallest, almost incrusted with a minute lichen.”
Stackpool Court (from the broad rock at the mouth of Broad Haven) is the elegant seat of Lord Cawdor. It is on the west side of the pool, on a fine eminence, at the edge of a bold declivity. It bore originally a castellated form, but lost its ancient baronial character. In the civil wars it was fortified and garrisoned for the king. The walls were so strong, that the ordnance made little impression. The present mansion, which occupies the same site, is of wrought limestone; its architecture is heavy. Lady Cawdor has contributed to Mr. Fenton’s Tour, from her own pencil, a charming view of this vicinity, taken near the bridge, in crossing from the house to the park. The house has two fronts, the principal one facing the pleasure-ground, the other opening to a fine piece of water. You enter the latter front from a broad terrace, extending to the whole length; and, after descending, it continues to the extent of a spacious conservatory. The house is formed into many fine apartments, and the library is large. In one room, containing family pictures, is a whole length of Lord Cawdor, by Sir J. Reynolds, and another of Lady Cawdor, by Sir W. Beechey. The offices are well arranged, and the stables form a detached large quadrangular building. Of Stackpool, says Mr. Fenton, without straining a compliment, there are few places which display more magnificence without, or more sumptuous hospitality and elegant comforts within. But, to sum up the importance of this place, be it known that it stands in the midst of a property of fifteen thousand acres of most valuable land! Opposite is the park, well stocked with deer, deformed by some barren sand-banks, and at present deficient in wood. The borders of the lake, and the pleasure-grounds, are, however, richly wooded. Between the park and the sea there is a warren, formed of mountains of sand, and consolidated by that valuable plant môrhesg (juncus maritimus), sea or mat rushes. The lake is abundantly stocked with wild fowl, which collect at a call, and consent to be fed like barn-door poultry.
Passing along the park, enter the pleasant village of Stackpool, where the ancient lords’ vassals resided: hence descend to a vale on the right, where a private gate leads through a woody avenue to the church of Chereton, or Stackpool Elidur, so named from its founder. It stands at the head of a sequestered dell; is a plain building, with a tower; consists of a nave and chancel, having two small aisles on the south side. On the north side of the chancel, under a wrought canopy of stone, lies a cross-legged knight, said to represent Elidur de Stackpool, the first possessor of Stackpool; the same whom Giraldus mentions, who took the cross at the time that Archbishop Baldwin made his transit through the country. Ascend to St. Petroc’s, a rectory in the gift of Lord Cawdor: the church is small, but very light and neat. The only conspicuous monument is a handsome mural marble tablet, to a Lady Jane Mansell, wife first of Sir Roger Lort, and afterwards Sir Edward Mansell, of Muddlescombe, Bart. in the County of Caermarthen. The rectors of this place have been observed to live to a great age.
At a short distance from Stackpool stands the chapel of St. Gowen, situated in a fine amphitheatre of rocks, rising immediately over the sea. In respect to this scene, the Author of the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature, thus expresses himself:—“As for you, my Lelius, never shall I forget your enthusiasm, when we visited the chapel of St. Gowen, situated among those stupendous rocks, which, forming a semicircular area towards the sea, commands a noble prospect of the coast of Devon. The language you employed on that interesting occasion, never can I be so base as to forget! ‘If our prayers are at one time more acceptable than at another, it must assuredly be in those moments when our souls are elevated by such scenery as this! Often have I been awed to devotion at Rome and at Loretto, in the presence of Canons, Bishops, and Cardinals; but here, in the rude simplicity of nature, I feel my spirit separate, as it were, from the tenement which has so long chained it to the earth, and wing its course directly up to heaven! The magnificent area, in which this small chapel is situated, is a temple more sublimely grand and affecting than all the mosques of Turkey, and all the cathedrals of France, Italy, or Spain.’”
At Pembroke we hired a boat, [74] intending to sail round the extensive Haven of Milford; and, as we retired from the shore, we took a retrospect of the dilapidated walls of the castle, once the terror, and even in ruins, the pride of the scene. It is most advisable to make this excursion at high water, as it adds much to the picturesque scenery of the tout ensemble.
MILFORD HAVEN,
is justly compared to “an immense lake; for, the mouth not being at any distance visible, the whole haven seems land-locked. Though it is a mile and three quarters wide, it could not be defended against an enemy, nor is there a sufficiency of timber in the neighbourhood. [75a]
“This haven is formed by a great advance of the sea into the land, it being above ten miles from the southernmost point at Nangle to Pembroke, beyond which the tide comes up to and beyond Carew Castle. It is capable of holding the whole navy of England; and the same is said of Cork Harbour. [75b] The spring tides rise thirty-six feet, the neap above twenty-six. Ships may be out of this haven in an hour’s time; and in eight or ten hours over at Ireland, or the Land’s End; and this with almost any wind, by day or night.”
“In surveying the estuary of Milford Haven,” says a writer, whom we shall frequently have occasion to quote, “expanding into one of the finest harbours in all Europe, and wearing the appearance of an immense lake, sufficiently large to contain the entire navy of the British Crown, secure from winds and tempests, and where a large fleet might manœuvre with the greatest safety,—what ideas of power and magnificence are awakened in the mind! Then by a magic glance we traverse the tempestuous Channel to the Irish coast, and call to mind the various crimes and injuries which that ill-fated country has committed and received. Returning to the spot whence we had travelled, beholding the creeks and bays, the woods, and various agreeable accompaniments, which embellish this majestic estuary; who is there that does not derive the highest satisfaction in recalling to memory the beautiful scene in Cymbeline, where Imogen, in the character of Fidele, has flowers sprinkled over her grave, and a solemn dirge performed in honour of her memory?”
Our reception at the miserable place of