CAERMARTHEN,
we found unpleasantly hilly, but occasional Vallies to our left enlivened our walk. Near Caermarthen we crossed a Bridge of free-stone over the Towy. This River, running through the middle of this shire, falls into the British Sea at Caermarthen Bay, and is navigable for small vessels as far as the Bridge. Immediately over it, upon a hanging rock, stand the remains of a once renowned Castle. This Town, according to Giraldus’s authority, was anciently a place of great strength, and fortified with brick walls, which are yet partly extant, near the river. This place, now considered as the Capital of the county, was formerly the residence of the Prince of South-Wales; and the Ancient Britons here held their Parliaments. The Chancery likewise, and Exchequer for South-Wales, were kept here, when this territory was first erected into a Principality, by the crown of England. In the thirty-eighth year of Henry VIII. it was created a borough-town.
This place is famous for being the birth-place of Merlin, who is styled, by an ancient author, “the sonne of a badde angell, or of an incubus spirit, the Britaine’s great Apollo, whom Geoffrey ap Arthur would ranke with the South-saying Seer, or rather with the true Prophets themselves; being none other than a meere seducer, and phantasticall vizard.” He flourished in the year 480.
At the Inn (Old Ivy-Bush) Sir Richard Steel composed his celebrated Play, called the Conscious Lovers.
From Caermarthen, we were recommended to go to
LAUGHARNE,
in order to see the Castle, but it by no means answered our expectation: little part of it now remains; and the neat gravel-walk, in the garden, but ill accords with the mutilated walls of an ancient ruin. From the garden walks, grand and extensive Sea-prospects interest the traveller. About five miles from Laugharne, we passed a small place, called
GREEN BRIDGE.
It derives its name from an excavation in the rock, through which a little rivulet runs for a mile and a half. This cavity is completely concealed from the road, and impossible to be discovered, unless pointed out by some neighbouring inhabitant. Let me, however, advise all Tourists to be cautious in their excursions to this natural curiosity, as it is a place evidently calculated for plunder, stratagems, and murder; and is now infested by an unawed banditti of smugglers, who have frequently practised the barbarous scheme of decoying vessels by false lights; and by whom we ourselves were insulted. Indeed, I would advise Travellers to alter their route from Swansea, and pursue the straight road to Caermarthen, and so to Tenby, by Narbeth. By these means they escape the unpleasant roads, (and almost, indeed, inaccessible for carriages,) leading from Oystermouth to Cheriton, and likewise from Llaugharne to Tenby. But should the Tourist be led by an invincible curiosity to inspect the Ruins of Kidwely Castle, it may easily be accomplished, by pursuing the Turnpike-road to Kidwely, and from thence to Caermarthen: in this last route you only omit visiting the Seat of Mr. Talbot, of Penrice; though an object highly worthy of inspection.
At Saunders’ Foot is a small Bay, formed on one side by a rock called the Monkstone, and on the other by the Caermarthenshire coast. Near this place is situate the Seat of Capt. Ackland; and from thence to Tenby, the dark lowering rocks rose perpendicularly to a considerable height, and then branched out into overhanging crags. It was now dusk;—and at this transforming hour, the bold promontories became shaded with unreal glooms,—the projecting cliffs assumed a more terrific aspect,—and the wild, overhanging underwood,