“Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,”
gave us her account of the ruin. She shewed us the nuns’ dining-room, the roof of which is still entire, supported by Saxon, or rather early Norman pillars and arches. From the refectory we passed to what was once the dormitory, and were shewn a nauseous dungeon, in which, as the legend of the ruin relates, offending nuns were wont to be confined. This abbey was built by Richard de Granville and Constance his wife, in the reign of Henry the First, for Cistertian monks, and dedicated to the Holy Trinity: at the dissolution of monasteries its revenues were valued at 150l. per annum. The abbey-house, about a century and a half since, formed an admired seat of the Hobby’s family.
Neath, the Nidum of Antoninus, was formerly of greater extent and importance than at present; for, notwithstanding its flourishing manufactories, it now makes but a poor dirty appearance. The Castle, now an inconsiderable ruin, was built by Richard de Granville, one of Fitzhammon’s knights, upon the site of a British fortress of very antient foundation; and was taken and in part burnt by Prince Llewelyn A.D. 1231. The Neath river limits that tract of country called Gower; it also formed the western boundary of the Lordship of Glamorgan, which anciently extended eastward to the river Usk. The latter district fell under the dominion of the Normans in the following manner.
In the year 1090, Jestyn, lord of Glamorgan, having a difference with Rees, King of Wales, had recourse to arms, and solicited the assistance of Fitzhammon, an Anglo-Norman chieftain, to support his cause. The confederates were successful; but, as it generally happens when foreign aid is required in domestic disputes, the remedy proved worse than the disease; for, on the plea that the conditions of their compact had not been fulfilled, Fitzhammon collected his forces, attacked Jestyn, and deprived him of his life and territory. Fitzhammon shared the spoil with twelve knights who accompanied him, rewarding each with a manor. Now, as a dominion thus acquired must be supported by the iron arm of coercion, we find the first attention of the conquerors directed to rearing fortresses on their domains; and shortly afterwards an appendant creation of religious houses makes its appearance, as a salvo for the slaughter and injustice that purchased their greatness. To this foundation most of the picturesque ruins that we are about to examine in Glamorganshire, and part of Monmouthshire, may be traced: it will, therefore, be necessary not to lose sight of this point of history.
We did not fail to admire the Knoll, a castellated seat of Sir Herbert Mackworth’s, occupying the summit of a hill at the termination of a noble lawn. The fine views which its elevation commands, encompassed by hanging woods, and extensive plantations, its shady walks and picturesque cascades, render it a place deservedly attractive. Beneath the tufted hills of this estate, we passed from Neath in our way to Briton ferry; and soon remarked a single stone monument [150], a massive paralellopiped, on a height to our left: another immediately afterwards appeared in a field close to the road on the right.
From these monuments of other times, however, the rich hanging woods and open groves of Briton ferry attracted our interest, clothing that charming domain of Lord Vernon’s.
The extensive plantations spread over several bold hills westward of the Neath river, whose broad translucid stream here emerges in a fine sweep between high woody banks, partly broken into naked cliffs, and soon unites with the sea. From a delightful shady walk impendent over the stream, we branched off into an “alley green” that led us up a steep hill covered with large trees and tangled underwood: the ascent was judiciously traced where several bare craigs projecting from the soil formed an apposite contrast to the luxuriant verdure that prevailed around. On gaining the summit the charms of Briton ferry disclosed themselves in
“An ample theatre of Sylvan grace”
of more than common beauty; beyond which the Bristol channel, bounded by the aerial tint of its opposite coast, formed the distance. But from a roaming prospect the eye gladly returned to repose on the local beauties of the scene; the tufted knoll, the dark glade, and the majestic river. In returning, we passed the mansion, a very ordinary building; but paused on the neat simplicity of the village-church adjoining, and its well-ordered cemetery.
The custom of planting ever-greens over the graves of departed friends, and bedecking them with flowers at certain seasons of the year, is, here attended to with peculiar care; and to this pleasing tribute of affection, characteristic of Wales, David ap-Gwillim, a Welch bard who flourished about the middle of the fourteenth century, thus sweetly alludes in one of his odes: