the road leads over the Penbree hills; and from this elevation, the scenery is viewed to great advantage.
The castle of Kidwelly, otherwise Cathweli, was formerly, I imagine, of great extent, and is still the most perfect we had hitherto met with in Wales. The extent of the apartments is distinguishable; some of the staircases accessible; and the four round towers, keep, gateway, and yard, spread an awful gloom around, whose beauties time had just sufficiently impaired, to heighten its grandeur and sublimity. To this castle King John retired, when at war with his Barons. Our guide expatiated much on the history and events of the castle, and told the story with as much agitation and interest, as if it had happened yesterday. The road to
CAERMARTHEN
we found unpleasantly hilly, but occasional valleys to our left enlivened our walk. Near Caermarthen we crossed a bridge of freestone 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 was the site of a Roman station, Maridunum, and, 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 King Henry VIII. it was created a borough-town.
No part of Wales can boast a more generous or higher-spirited people than the gentry in the vicinity, and the inhabitants of Caermarthen. Its trade is likewise considerable, as the circumjacent country, for a very considerable distance, is dependent upon it for the common luxuries, and what are now deemed, even in Wales, necessaries of life, for which they bring for sale or barter the most simple article of the native produce; and you may frequently see the basket that has been brought for miles, not contain a sixpenny-worth of herbs, eggs, &c.; yet this trifle is to them of consequence, and enables them to add to the little stock of tea, tape, or pins, which they require. The busy scene of a Caermarthen market is highly interesting, particularly to one fond of the study of political economy.
“Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.”
How cheap must be the subsistence of a party who can walk twelve or fourteen miles to earn sixpence, or disburse a shilling or eighteen-pence, and how few must be their weekly wants which so small a sum can satisfy! It is true, they divide this labour, and each take their turn of village or neighbourly duty. The market of this place is not only extremely reasonable, but excellent; hardly excelled in quality by any but Worcester, the cleanliness and beauty of the exhibition of which beats all England. Caermarthen has abundance of good meat, fish, poultry, butter, wild-fowl, and game. In December, 1819, I bought three fine turkeys for nine shillings, fowls from eightpence to one shilling each, and other things in proportion; still the taxes are the same as in England, and good land is high rented; but the wants of the tenantry are fewer; small farms are abundant, and every cottage has its garden and plot of ground, as well as waste land generally: fuel is likewise cheap.
The view from Caermarthen over the Towy is beautiful, and not to be enjoyed any where to greater advantage than from the back rooms of the Ivy Bush inn, or the terrace walk in the garden. Its population is rated at between 7 and 8000, and its houses at about 1200. The market days are Saturday and Wednesday. It is 231 miles from London, by Bristol, and 216 by Glocester.
The mail arrives from London at nine in the morning, and departs at two o’clock in the afternoon generally. I should feel it the height of ingratitude, if I failed to notice the great attention paid to strangers who attend divine service at the church: not only are they immediately accommodated in comfortable pews, but prayer-books are supplied to them by the son of the clerk. In short, I witnessed that courtesy and attention to strangers, and backwardness to receive remuneration, that I never saw evinced at any other place.
The late Ivy Bush was the house of Sir Richard Steele, who obtained it and his property in this neighbourhood by marriage with the heiress of Jonathan Scurlock, Esq. After the death of his wife he retired to a small farm-house, called the White House, lying about a mile from Caermarthen, and there he wrote his celebrated comedy of the Conscious Lovers.