Before proceeding north to that little known yet seductive river, the Teifi, Haverfordwest, on one of the two Cleddaus, which enter the Haven at its northern and westernmost arms, must be briefly mentioned. It is an ancient town, as its castle—built about 1112 by the father of Richard Strongbow, that eminent castle-builder—testifies. Among its other privileges was that of being county and capital town in one; also of having its own lord-lieutenant. Here the Flemings of the twelfth century most did congregate in this peninsula, and no doubt the little town’s prosperity was largely due to them. Nowadays, however, it is a waning place, in spite of its lively look and, considering its remoteness, its fine buildings. This is proven by the number of its Maiden Assizes in the later years of its independence, before its annexation to Carmarthen for judicial purposes, as well as by other less agreeable tokens. It is, perhaps, the most hilly town in the kingdom. Ere you are half a mile away from it on the road to St. David’s, it is lost to sight; while, approaching it from Milford, its situation seems quite Alpine.
The TEIFI (or Tivy), like the Towy, is little known to Englishmen other than anglers; and again, like the Towy, it well deserves knowing. The two rivers both rise among the heather-clad moors of Cardiganshire; so near, indeed, that you may stand on the watershed and mark the different trend of their streams. Teifi’s chief supply, however, comes from the Teifi pools, three miles from Strata Florida Abbey, a congeries of mountain lakes, the abode of interesting and capricious trout that may be recommended to the traveller with a fishing rod—and a mackintosh. It has as wild an origin as any of the rivers of South Wales. The Cistercians of Strata Florida probably fished these lakes far more than do the moderns.
From the pools Teifi descends impetuously to the mere graveyard that reminds one of the Mynachlog Fawr, or Great Monastery, of which only an archway remains. Either Rhys ap Tewdwr or Rhys ap Gruffydd, royal princes both, was the founder of the abbey, which was so important an establishment that Henry IV. made a special expedition to destroy it. If, as tradition says. Dafydd ap Gwilym—“the greatest genius of the Cimbric race and one of the first poets of the world,” in the opinion of George Borrow—was buried here, one can understand the patriotic influence of such a spot, and Bolingbroke’s ruthlessness. But many are the poets and princes, as well as Dafydd ap Gwilym, who lie in this “Westminster of Wales.” The Strata Florida monks have been made responsible for the Devil’s Bridge, on the Rheidol—that bonne bouche for visitors to Aberystwith. Excavations have recently been made in the abbey precincts, with promising results.
Strata Florida is accessible by railway from the Manchester and Milford station of Pontrhydfendigaid. It must be confessed that some courage is required to alight at this dreary place on a wet autumn day. Teifi traverses dismal bog-land for miles hence: a vast flat of glittering pools and reddish grass and reeds, abounding in hares. One marvels that no serious attempt has been made to drain these thousands of acres: not such a difficult task, surely, considering the steep fall to the west beyond the hills. However, each landlord to his own ideas. Tregaron is passed, and still Teifi is rather a dull stream, though it can be seen that, lower down, the hills are drawing together suggestively. This is a famous district for cattle-drovers and cattle fairs. Your modern Cardigan farmer finds in these fairs one of the main excitements of his life. But the dealers are often far gone in whisky by the end of the fair-day, especially if they have had “bargains.”
So towards Lampeter, leaving on the east Llanddewi Brefi, where, in A.D. 519, was held the Great Synod, attended by St. David, at which Pelagius was adjudged a heretic. Teifi has now become a real river, broad and swift, and a charm to the angler. A column on a hill by Derry Ormond holds the eye. This is a tale told of it. The grandsire of the present owner of the estate wooed a young lady of London, and brought her home; but she pined for the Metropolis, and said either that she could not or would not live where she could not see London. To help her a little in this respect, her husband built the column. History does not inform us whether the wife was won to her allegiance by this proof of marital infatuation.
Teifi does not excel in its auxiliary streams. This is explainable by the nature of the country it traverses. Its watershed is not an extensive one, like Towy’s. The streams that flow to it throughout its course are all insignificant in size, though the two Cletwrs (Fawr and Fach), Afon Cych, and especially the merry little mountain-rivulet that joins it a mile west of Newcastle Emlyn, are not without the customary fascinations of these well-nigh untrodden glens of Wild Wales.
It is when Teifi turns decisively to the west and its home in the long inlet of Port Cardigan that its graces become truly bewitching. From Llandyssil to Newcastle Emlyn it alternates between sweet, green, hill-bounded reaches and contracted gorges which trammel and fret it so that it roars with dissatisfaction. At Newcastle its valley is broad again, with wooded hills on all sides, enclosing the pretty little village and its castle. Put thence to Cardigan it is majestic all the way, zigzagging with glorious curves, and with high, densely-wooded banks in the main. Seen when the tints are on its trees, this part of Teifi’s course makes an enduring mark on the memory. The salmon-fisher who comes once to Teifi here (and it is a prolific river, in spite of the “professionals,” who take heavy tolls at its mouth) will have abundant compensation, even though he have poor sport. There is no railway between Newcastle and Cardigan; but what a nine miles’ drive or walk it is!
At Cenarth, for instance, it is impossible not to pause awhile. Here the river bursts from a confined defile into greater freedom, sweeping under a bridge of the Edwards hall-mark. Cenarth is a lovely little village, out of the world, given up to the woods and the crying waters. And under its bridge, at the side, you may see some of the tiny coracles still in use on this stream. Fashions die hard in these sequestered parts of Wales. Giraldus tells us that the beaver kept its haunt on the Teifi when it was extinct elsewhere in Great Britain.
There is a contenting sameness about Teifi all the way to Cardigan: unchanged perfection. Two miles short of this capital town, however, it speeds to the south, and then turns boldly in its final curve towards the sea. Above it here, on a lofty crag, with woods caressing it, is Kilgerran Castle, which Turner painted. He could hardly have resisted the temptation, having seen it. The castle remains consist of two towers and a gateway, all of the thirteenth century. Historically, little seems known about it.