Nooks And Corners Of Pembrokeshire Part 4

It is difficult to a.s.sign a _raison d'etre_ for the existence of this quaint old structure. By some folks it has been called the gate-tower to the inner ward; but others, again, have styled it the priests'

dwelling-place; and our investigations seem to point to some such use as the latter.

A stone stairway, hollowed in the thickness of the wall, leads to an upper chamber, which contains a niche (suggestive of a piscina), a fireplace, and several small windows. The peaked roof, which is modern, is surrounded by open, pointed arches corbelled out from the wall below, and finished with plain battlements. Thus, with its picturesque medley of weather-stained brick, stone and timber, touched here and there with green moss and golden lichens, this curious tower proves an attractive bit for the sketch-book.

At Lamphey Palace Robert Devereux, the ill-fated Earl of Ess.e.x, spent several years of his youth; and is reputed to have quitted the place 'the most finished gentleman of his time.'

Superst.i.tious folk, when approaching these ruins after nightfall, while 'the moping owl doth to the moon complain,' may (or may not) have their nerves agreeably thrilled by the apparition of a mysterious white lady, presumably a Devereux, who is said to haunt these historic shades at that witching hour!

Lamphey Church, which lies a short half-mile away, has been too much modernized to detain us long. The tall, plain tower has been preserved, however, in its original simplicity; and the large square font, of early type, has a little ornamentation of good character.

Crossing the railway bridge past _the_ shop of the village, with its alluring display of miscellaneous _olla podrida_ in the window, we pursue our shadows along a dusty country road; cutting off a circuitous corner by taking to a pleasant field-path. A bright little country maid pioneers us hence into Hodgeston, a sleepy hamlet consisting of some half-dozen whitewashed cottages cl.u.s.tering around the sorry remnants of a village green, now shrunk to half its old proportions owing to recent encroachments.

Obtaining the key at one of these cottages, we now make straight for the parish church, which rises beyond a grove of trees, less than a bowshot away.

Seen from the outside, this little edifice looks unostentatious enough, with its slender western tower, chancel, and nave devoid of the usual excrescences; but upon entering we soon find matter to arouse our keenest interest.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CHANCEL HODGESTON CHURCH]

The nave is simple, though well proportioned; setting off to fullest advantage the rich and elaborate features that adorn the Decorated chancel. Good traceried windows rise upon either hand, surmounted by an open timber roof, with the pretty ball-flower ornament running around the top of the wall.

Upon the south side of the chancel stands a handsome triple sedilia; its shapely, richly-moulded arches aflame with elaborate crockets, which cl.u.s.ter upwards to the large, florid finials. A plain stone bench flanks the lower part of the wall, whence projects a flight of steps that gave access to the vanished rood-loft.

We also notice a dainty piscina sunk in the thickness of the wall, having a beautiful ornamental canopy, closely resembling that of the sedilia, and a fine old Norman font. One cannot but feel surprise that such rich design and delicate workmanship should be thus hidden away in this remote locality; and can only hazard the conjecture that the influence of Bishop Gower (whose handiwork is seen to such advantage in his great palace at St. Davids) must have made itself felt even in outlying parishes such as this. There is reason to suppose, too, that a religious house existed at Hodgeston in olden times, which would probably exert a refining influence upon the local craftsmen, for the monks of old were often goodly builders.

These charming features, then, provide attractive matter for the sketch-book, which keeps us pegging away until well on towards sundown: so that, as we wend our way back to Lamphey Station, we lounge over a stile formed from some broken ship's timbers to enjoy the exquisite after-glow, which lingers still above the falling dusk as the train carries us homeward to Tenby.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ANCIENT QUERN OR HAND MILL.]

CHAPTER III.

MANORBERE CASTLE: AND GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS.

Through the courtesy of a hospitable friend, we now shift our moorings from Tenby's tourist-haunted streets, to the quiet precincts of Manorbere Castle. Within those time-honoured walls the charm of modern hospitality is enhanced by contrast with its mediaeval background.

Quitting the train at the little wayside station, a quarter of an hour's pleasant drive through deep lanes fringed with hartstongue fern, and gay with 'floureis white and blewe, yellow and rede,' gives us our first glimpse of the stately old pile. Crowning a low, isolated hill, the castle stands out 'four square to all the winds of heaven' against a silvery expanse of the distant ocean; for, as old Leland says: 'This place is not in the Hyeway, but standith neere the sh.o.r.e of the Severn Se.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: MANORBERE CASTLE FROM THE EAST.]

A country lad opens a gate giving access to a rough meadow, flanked by the remains of barbican walls and ruined bastions; traversing which we presently draw rein before the broad, landward front of the castle.

Crossing the grim but inoffensive drawbridge, our friend explains the ingenious device by which, in the 'good old times,' an intruder must perforce 'turn turtle' upon a sort of human beetle-trap. Overhead are seen the openings whence the garrison might pour down 'something lingering and humorous, with molten lead in it,' by way of warm welcome to the foe.

Pa.s.sing beneath the ivy-mantled gate-tower, we emerge upon the s.p.a.cious greensward of the inner court, which is enclosed on every hand by h.o.a.ry walls and turrets, whose weather-beaten ruins tell of heavy treatment at the hand of Father Time.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MANORBERE CASTLE.]

For it is a notable fact in the history of Manorbere Castle, and one in which we are indebted for its relative state of preservation, that, unlike its great neighbours of Pembroke and Carew, it has never withstood a siege. Moreover, having ceased to be inhabited at a very early period, this castle has preserved unaltered the salient features of its construction. The architecture is very simple and ma.s.sive, being indeed almost entirely devoid of ornament. Some of the apartments retain the plain, pointed stone vault, devoid of ribs, so frequently met with in South Wallian castles; while several of those circular chimneys, peculiar to the locality, rise above the crumbling battlements.

Continuing our stroll around the inner court we observe, hard by the great gateway, the warders' room, with its narrow window commanding the entrance. Behind it rises the huge, circular 'Bull' Tower; a ma.s.sive structure honeycombed with quaint little chambers approached by a winding stone stair, and connected with the gate-tower by a narrow pa.s.sage in the thickness of the walls. Along the eastern side of the court extends a long range of apartments, which const.i.tute the modern residence. These were resuscitated by Mr. J. R. Cobb, a former occupant, who restored the castle in so admirable and conscientious a manner, that the modern additions in no wise detract from their venerable surroundings. Farther away in the same direction lie the ruined kitchens, with their huge projecting chimneys, and ovens of such capacity that, as tradition avers, the lord of the domain was wont to regale his guests upon oxen roasted whole!

[Ill.u.s.tration: MANORBERE CASTLE.]

Traversing the sunny castle-garth, we pa.s.s a circular receptacle formed in the ground for melting the lead aforesaid. Close at hand is a deep draw-well, half full of water. Some twenty feet down this well is a blocked-up archway which was opened years ago by old 'Billy,' the local factotum, who discovered dark, subterranean pa.s.sages running hence beneath the adjacent ruins. Here he stumbled against casks and kegs left behind by the smuggler folk, who in former days carried on their illicit traffic around the neighbouring coast. At the same time, as a 'blind'

for the Excise officers, they carried on a traffic in grain, which was stored for the purpose in large barns outside the castle.

At the farther end of the courtyard rise the picturesque walls and arches of a lofty group of buildings, containing the banqueting-hall and chapel. This appears to have been the handsomest part of the castle; and the great hall, with its broad flight of stone steps and stately range of pointed windows overlooking the sea, must indeed have been a n.o.ble apartment. Beneath it, in grim contrast, lurks a series of dark, windowless dungeons.

Entering the chapel by a flight of ruinous steps fringed with sprays of spleenwort fern, we explore its dimly-lighted recesses, and discern traces of half obliterated colour decoration. Clambering by a narrow stone stairway to the gra.s.s-grown roof, we awaken the resentful clamour of a colony of jackdaws; anon we peer into the tiny chamber for the priest, and dive into the gloomy crypt, with its low-vaulted roof and fireplace improvised from a desecrated tomb.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MANORBERE CASTLE.]

Then out once more into the castle garth, to follow the loopholed wall.

This terminates in the many-sided Pembroke Tower, which, bowered in climbing plants, boasts a certain diminutive chamber wherein, as the local tradition runs, Giraldus Cambrensis, the famous Welsh historian, was born. Thence ensues another stretch of lofty wall, backed by a series of curious flying b.u.t.tresses: and our peregrination is completed beneath the h.o.a.ry, lichen-clad stonework of the great tower beside the entrance gateway. This is the oldest part of the castle, and (with apologies to the local tradition) probably the only portion of it that dates as far back as the days of the worthy Giraldus.

The water-gate, set deep in the seaward wall, is flanked by a huge ma.s.s of stonework which still bears traces of the smugglers' ineffectual efforts to dislodge it. Following a rough track that winds down the rocky slope, we stroll onward beside a pretty rill of water meandering, amidst bullrushes and marsh marigolds, to the moss-grown wheel of the castle mill. Here we linger upon the rustic foot-bridge to enjoy a charming retrospect. The gray walls of the grim old castle, crowning the low, steep hill we have just descended, are reflected in the placid stream at our feet. A group of low-roofed cottages, and the mill with its plashing wheel, nestle in the valley beneath; while the towers and gables of the quaint old parish church peep from a rival hill that fronts the sea.

The western flank of the castle looks down upon a weed-grown marsh, occupying the site of a lake that formerly protected it upon that side.

Beside the marsh stands a picturesque old stone pigeon-house, smothered in ivy and golden lichens; beyond which extends a secluded vale shaded by oak, ash and holly, that formed part of the ancient park or chase of Manorbere. The whole scene has a quiet beauty of its own very pleasant to contemplate.

Meanwhile, after tackling this fascinating bit, we roam across the wind-blown sandhills, where a derelict boat, lying high and dry above high-water mark, offers a convenient resting-place for the noontide _siesta_. Stretching our limbs upon the warm, dry sand, and gazing dreamily across the deep-blue line of the bay, we call to mind a certain glowing description of the Manorbere of seven long centuries ago. Gerald de Barri, the author of this panegyric (better known as Giraldus Cambrensis), can scarce find words to express his admiration for the home of his boyhood.

'The castle called Maenor Pyrr,' says Gerald, 'is excellently defended by towers and outworks, and is situated on the summit of a hill extending on the western side towards the seaport; having on the northern and southern sides a fine fish-pond under the walls, as conspicuous for its grand appearance as for the depth of its water; and a beautiful orchard on the same side enclosed on one part by a vineyard, and on the other by a wood remarkable for the projection of its rocks and the height of its hazel-trees. To the right of the promontory, between the castle and the church, near the site of a very large lake and mill, a rivulet of never-failing water flows through a valley rendered sandy by the violence of the winds.'

The same enthusiastic writer also portrays for us the main features of the circ.u.mjacent country: 'Towards the west the Severn Sea, bending its course to Ireland, enters a hollow bay at some distance from the castle; and the southern rocks, if more extended towards the north, would render it an admirable harbour for shipping. From this point you may see almost all the ships from greater Britain, which the east wind drives towards Ireland. The land is well supplied with corn, sea-fish and wines, purchased abroad; and--what is of more importance--from its neighbourhood to Ireland it enjoys a mild climate.

'Dimetia therefore, with its seven _cantrefs_, is the most beautiful, as well as the most powerful district in Wales; Pembroch the finest part of the province of Dimetia; and the place I have just described the most beautiful part of Pembroch. It is evident, therefore, that Maenor Pyrr is the Paradise of all Wales!'

Born at Manorbere Castle in the year 1146, Gerald de Barri was the youngest son of William de Barri, Lord of Manorbere; grandson of Gerald de Windsor, Governor of Pembroke Castle; and nephew of David Fitz-Gerald, Bishop of St. Davids, from whom he received his early education; while upon the maternal side Gerald was descended from Rhys ap Tydwr, one of the princes of Wales. The career of one thus born, so to speak, in the purple, was from the outset pretty well a.s.sured. Thus we find the worthy Gerald promoted from the living of Tenby to a fat canonry at Hereford Cathedral; and presently the snug archdeaconry of St. Davids falls to his lot.

About this time, Gerald joined with Archbishop Baldwin to preach the Crusade throughout South Wales; when he kept a diary of his proceedings which has proved of no little entertainment to after-comers.

During his long and eventful career Gerald de Barri paid three several visits to Rome, in order to push his interests at headquarters. He accompanied Henry II. to France, and was entrusted by that monarch with the education of his promising son John, of Magna Charta fame. Upon the death of his uncle the Bishop, Gerald made strenuous efforts to obtain the coveted appointment of his native see, refusing all other preferments; but, failing of success, he retired in dudgeon from active life, and spent the rest of his days in writing those literary 'remains'

that have afforded so much interest to antiquaries.

Gerald de Barri appears to have been a man of studious temperament. He became, as Lambarde quaintly puts it, 'wel learned and, as tyme served, eloquent.' He was, moreover, a great writer, and being much given to disputation, called together the literary _elite_ of Oxford and read his own works to them. He next proceeded to feast his learned critics into a satisfactory state of good humour with things in general, and his own literary effusions in particular; an event which he himself describes as 'a magnificent affair, a return of the Golden Age, an unparalleled event, in England at all events.'

In person Gerald is portrayed as remarkably tall, his face being strongly marked by large, s.h.a.ggy eyebrows; and it has been well said that, in spite of certain undeniable defects of character, he was probably inspired with a genuine love for the land of his birth, and a desire to upraise therein an independent Kymric Church owning allegiance to the Bishop of St. Davids as its spiritual head.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DE BARRI TOMB, MANORBERE.]

Gerald de Barri was gathered to his fathers, at a ripe old age, in the year 1220. He is reputed to have been buried in St. Davids Cathedral; where _at least one_ tomb is pointed out as the last resting-place of this great ecclesiastic.

Little is recorded of the subsequent history of Manorbere Castle. The place appears to have been abandoned at an early period; its hanging woods and vineyards were abandoned to decay, whilst its dismantled walls and subterranean vaults harboured bands of lawless freebooters, who haunted these coasts a century ago. Wild work went forward at Manorbere in those half-forgotten days. It is related how a certain famous smuggler, notorious for his desperate enterprises, eluded the vigilance of the revenue men by running his vessel ash.o.r.e near the headland ycleped the Priest's Nose; and conveying his illicit cargo, under cover of night, to the cellars with which the neighbourhood abounded.

Rousing ourselves at length from these cogitations on the sandhills, we put the best foot foremost and hie away past a spring of pure water known as the Druid's Well, to the sunny slopes of that selfsame Priest's Nose. Scrambling warily amidst brakes of p.r.i.c.kly furze, we presently espy a mighty cromlech standing in a nook of the hill, beside the narrow path. A soft westerly breeze draws in 'gently, very gently from the sea,' as we perch beside this relic of the immemorial past; wafting the scent of wild thyme and gorse over warm, crisp turf that shimmers beneath the l.u.s.ty summer sunshine. Hence unfolds yet another charming view of the gray old castle, set amidst a breadth of feathery woodland that cl.u.s.ters under the lee of the sheltering hill. A turn of the head reveals the varied line of coast stretching away, league upon league, past the groves of Stackpole to the bluff, perpendicular landfall of St.

Govan's Head.