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, is another 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 by land 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.
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 employed in 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 is Newcastle, a small irregular town situated upon its banks, and graced with the venerable ruins of a castle, but of no great antiquity. 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.