Читать книгу A Tour throughout South Wales and Monmouthshire - J. T. Barber - Страница 10

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CAERMARTHEN—FEMALE LABOURERS—LLANSTEPHAN CASTLE—A FORD—LAUGHARNE CASTLE—FINE MARINE VIEWS—NEW INN—TENBY.

The situation of Caermarthen, one of the most wealthy and polite towns in Wales, can scarcely be enough admired; rising above a noble river, and commanding a full view of one of the most beautiful vales in the kingdom. Internally, there is less to commend; as most of the streets are very steep, and irregularly built; yet there are many good private houses, belonging to the neighbouring gentry that resort here in the winter months; and a handsome town-hall and some other buildings do credit to the public spirit of the town, though a solitary church may reflect but little on its sanctity. Very small remains of the castle, now built up into a gaol, appear; or of the walls that formerly encompassed the town. The trade of the place is much facilitated by its fine river, which conveys ships of a good size up to the bridge.

Caermarthen is the Kaervyrdhin of the Britons, the Maridunum of Ptolemy, and the Muridunum of Antoninus. The ancient Britons reckoned it the capital of all Wales: here they held their Parliaments, or Assemblies of wise men, and here fixed their Chancery and Exchequer. When the Normans overran Wales, this town severely felt the miseries of war, being often besieged, and twice burnt by the Welch princes; Gilbert Earl of Clare, however, at length fixed his power at Caermarthen beyond the reach of their attempts. This place gave birth to the famous Merlin in the year 480: he appears to have been a man of extraordinary wisdom and learning, which, no doubt, occasioned him to be looked upon as a magician in that dark age, and transmitted as such to posterity by Monkish writers, who always looked with an evil eye upon knowledge possessed out of their craft. Here also was born Lewis Bayly, chaplain to James the First, afterwards Bishop of Bangor, and author of the celebrated “Practice of Piety.”

From our comfortable quarters at the Green Dragon, we set out early in the morning; and, on leaving the town, were more interested than pleased, in noticing several fine young women who were acting as scavengers, while one, whose elegance of form defied even her awkward habit to conceal it, was bending beneath the fatigue of wheeling away the filth in a barrow. In the same point of view, seated behind a counter, a brawny-fisted fellow was folding up ribbons and laces. How odious is the employ of men-milliners! How shameful, that men, who might gain a prosperous livelihood in a thousand ways, should interfere with almost the only eligible means which the limited powers and habits of women capacitate them to adopt for a maintenance! Driven from their natural employ, they must either have recourse to a cruel drudgery which they were not formed, and are generally unable, to endure; or wander after subsistence in the paths of shame and misery, at once a disgrace, a burthen, and a terror to society. But does our censure more properly fall on these men, for entering into the pretty dalliance of women’s affairs, in preference to masculine pursuits requiring intellectual and bodily exertion? or on the ladies, who encourage men, rather than their own sex, in the fiddle-faddle arrangement of their caps and tuckers?

Passing this group, we soon left the high road, and struck off into a narrow imbowered lane, up a laborious ascent, toward Llanstephan Castle. On arriving at the top of the hill, we were amply repaid for our toil by a most enchanting view over the Vale of the Towey: a stripe of the richest verdure, intersected with numerous hedgerows and ornamental plantations, arose on each side of the river; above which, a parallel range of high-wooded and cultivated hills formed the boundary of the valley. The extensive town of Caermarthen; the lofty spire of its church; the ruined castle, and the long old bridge, with several barks lying near it; were conspicuous objects at a short distance in the picture; which was considerably enlivened by several gentlemen’s seats, and their appendant decorations. The town of Abergwilly, on the banks of the river, with the bishop of St. David’s palace, an ordinary building, would also have appeared in the distance; but the termination of the valley was denied us, by the morning mist not having cleared away. Pursuing our route, we took every opportunity that intervals in the hedge afforded, of renewing our treat, and discovered new beauties at each succeeding station.

At length we parted with this agreeable scenery; and soon after, on a sudden turn of the lane, came within view of the picturesque ruin of Llanstephan castle. A farming party also appeared at this instant, proceeding with goods for Caermarthen market. This group was opened by a robust young fellow driving a couple of cows; he wore the general dress of the country, a short blue coarse cloth coat, and breeches of the same open at the knees; but he also possessed the luxury of shoes and stockings. A sledge loaded with sacks of grain followed; drawn by a horse, on which a lusty wench sat astride, as the peasant girls generally do in Wales; cloathed in a brown jirkin and petticoat, but with her lower extremities uncovered. She urged on the horse by kicking him with her bare heels, while her hands were busied in knitting. Two other buxom bare-legged girls followed on foot, with their fingers similarly employed, and with large baskets of eggs and poultry on their heads. But a word on the sledge, the common farming carriage in Wales.—This is a most simple contrivance, consisting of two rude poles, between which the horse is placed; their ends trail on the ground, toward which extremity there are two or three cross bars; a few upright sticks from these complete the carriage. A comely dame, seated on horse-back, and accommodated with a sort of side-saddle made with cross rails, was probably the mistress; she closed the rear; and her superior condition was evident, in her dark blue worsted stockings, ponderous shoes, and small brass buckles.

Llanstephan castle crowns the summit of a bold hill, whose precipitous base is washed by the sea. Its broken walls inclose a large area; and, furnished with several encircling earthen ramparts, appear to have possessed considerable antique strength. From numerous stations it offers a truly picturesque appearance; and in the approach charmingly combines with the surrounding landscape; which, ever varying, is sometimes confined to the woody character; at others, exhibits the wide estuary, the rocky promontory forming its opposite shore, and the boundless sea.

This castle is said to have been built by the sons of Uchtred, prince of Merionethshire, anno Domini 1138; but soon after fell into the hands of the Normans and Flemings; in 1145 it was taken from them by Cadelh, son of Rhys Prince of South Wales; and so vigorously maintained, that the utmost force which the foreigners could raise was unable to retake it. However, by the year 1189 it must have been in the possession of the English, as Caradoc informs us that it was then taken from them by Prince Rhys.

The village, a neat humble place, is snugly situated beneath the “Castle-cap’d hill” in a woody hollow; whence we traversed a lofty ridge, commanding extensive views, to a neighbouring estuary, formed by the Tave near its junction with the sea. As the tide was out, we could not avail ourselves of the ferry, but had ample directions where the water might be crossed; yet, unfortunately, on arriving at the sands, the description of circumstances received for our guidance proved so general, that we were unable to select the route intended; and the broad current ran with such threatening rapidity into the sea, only half a mile distant, that it would have been highly dangerous to have ventured in upon hazard. Ignorant how to proceed, and unwilling to return three or four miles for fresh directions, we gladly observed a couple of young women trudging on the sands in a direction toward us. The proper place for fording was now pointed out, where, it was said, the water would scarcely cover our horses’ knees; we deemed it most prudent, however, to let the natives go first, and they accordingly entered the river, using the precaution of raising their drapery. We followed close; but the lasses had considerably underrated the depth of the water, for it took both them and our horses above their middles; yet so carefully were their clothes held up, that not a thread was wetted. On reaching the opposite shore, their petticoats were suffered to descend: my friend and I then looked at each other, passed an observation, returned our thanks to the damsels, wished them a good morrow; and under an overhanging rock of red granite, crowned with the ivy-mantled remains of Laugharne castle, reached the town, an irregularly built little place, seated on a low bank of the estuary.

Laugharne castle, though not very extensive, and not generally striking for picturesque disposition, has a noble aspect toward the town. The foundation of this Castle is not transmitted to us in the Welch annals, but is, doubtless, of high antiquity; it was occupied, and probably built, by the Normans and Flemings on their conquest of these parts; afterwards, in the year 1215, it was besieged and taken by Llewelyn: Leland says, “it longid some time to the Earl of Northumberland.” An interesting ride, upon a high boundary of the sea, brought us into Pembrokeshire, at a place called New Inn.

In this progress, extensive views ranging over the Bristol channel were continual; but one coup d’œil,

High from the summit of a craggy cliff

Hung o’er the deep—

was eminently striking! magnificently beautiful! The whole sweep of Caermarthen bay, with its several estuaries, high cliffs, and swelling shores, appeared beneath us, extending in one direction to the extreme point of Gower, and in the other to the isle of Caldy in Pembrokeshire; at the latter termination, the picturesque whitened town of Tenby, romantically built on a tongue of rock projecting into the sea, seemed issuing from the waves. From the grand amphitheatre of this bay, the eye roamed, over a vast tract of sea, to the shores of Somerset and Devon, hear fifty miles distant, faintly penciled on the horizon, and terminated by the advancing swell of Lundy Island. Further westward, the setting sun appeared in conjunction with the sea, there widening into the Atlantic Ocean; its golden effulgence glittered in reflexion from the waves, and diffused itself over the whole scenery: numerous barks in the bay, sailing on different tacks, caught partial gleams of illumination; and a large fleet of ships, entering the channel at a remote distance, seemed little more than dusky spots on the glistening expanse: the tout ensemble formed one of the most pleasing marine pictures that I ever saw.—The sea, viewed under its ordinary circumstances, from a low situation, engages little interest; the angle of vision is then intersected by the aqueous segment at the distance of four or five miles; and, with little more breadth of water than one meets with in a river or lake, the prospect finishes in a mere hard line. The case is far otherwise when it is viewed from a high mountain, particularly if that mountain be a bold promontory, and the view bursts upon the spectator on a sudden: a world of waters then meets his astonished sight; the immense object presses on his mind an inconceivable emotion; and an image is at once stamped of the genuine sublime. Filled with the vast idea, he contemplates with awe and veneration the magnitude of his Creator’s works, and sinks into a proper estimate the puny achievements of man.