Casting about for some clue to the whereabouts of St. Davids Cathedral, we soon espy a low, dark object that proves upon closer inspection to be the topmost story of the central tower. With this as guide, we traverse an old paved lane ycleped the Popples, _Anglice_ Pebbles, and pa.s.sing beneath the tower gate--sole survivor of the four gate towers of the ancient city--enter the cathedral precincts. This point affords perhaps the most characteristic _coup d'oeil_ of the venerable edifice, set amidst that stern and sombre landscape with which its time-worn architecture so completely harmonizes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ST. DAVIDS CATHEDRAL.]

Viewed from our present vantage-point St. Davids Cathedral appears ensconced within the hollow of the vale, its topmost pinnacles scarce rising clear of the distant horizon. Grouped around the central ma.s.s of the cathedral stand the crumbling ruins of mediaeval structures of scarcely inferior interest. Away to our left, beyond a grove of wind-swept trees, rise the arcaded walls of Gower's incomparable palace, while the slender tower of St. Mary's College peeps over the long cathedral roof.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GATE TOWER. ST. DAVIDS.]

The stone wall that encompa.s.ses the cathedral close upon its eastern side terminates in the ma.s.sive octagonal tower, with Gothic doorway and windows, seen in the adjoining sketch. This is flanked again by the old gateway through which we have just entered.

We now descend the broad flight of steps that, from their number, have been dubbed the 'Thirty-nine Articles.' Pa.s.sing through the great south porch our eyes are greeted by a beautiful Decorated doorway, the work of Bishop Gower, which is adorned with exquisitely-carved figures and foliage encrusting arch and pillar. Here enclosed amidst intersecting branches we discern quaintly sculptured representations of the Root of Jesse, the Crucifixion, St. David with his harp, and various other saintly personages; yonder the artist tells the history of Adam and the birth of Eve; while overhead presides the Holy Trinity, flanked by angels with swinging censers--a veritable gem of mediaeval sculpture.

Proceeding onward we now enter the nave, whose rich yet ma.s.sive architecture forms a unique and enduring memorial of the first Norman bishop, Peter de Leia. The general effect is of breadth rather than height, the solid cylindrical pillars supporting semicircular arches of unusual width, wrought with the varied and elaborate ornamentation of the Transitional Norman period.

Above this rises a series of lofty arches enclosing both clerestory and triforium--a rather unusual arrangement--while a singular appearance is produced by the upward slope of the floor, and the outward lean of walls and nave pillars, the latter being the result of an earthquake that occurred in the thirteenth century.

The roof which spans the broad nave is one of the most notable features of the cathedral. It was built of gray Irish oak about the end of the fifteenth century, and is a veritable masterpiece of construction and design. The sculptured foliage of the capitals is worthy of close examination, and one of the nave pillars bears a faded fresco, generally supposed to represent King Henry IV. Beneath an adjacent arch reposes the effigy of Bishop Morgan--a goodly figure habited in priestly robes that are admirably rendered by the sculptor's chisel. The base of this monument is enriched with an unusually fine Resurrection, carved in marble.

Fronting the full width of the nave, the beautiful Decorated rood screen of Bishop Gower now claims our attention. This exquisite structure is perhaps unrivalled in the picturesque variety of its several parts, and the charming effects of light and shade that enhance the mellow tones of its ancient stonework. Panelled b.u.t.tresses divide the screen into five bays, the middle compartment forming a wide archway adorned with flowers and vine-leaves. To the left is the older portion, subdivided by Gothic arches borne by detached pillars, with grotesque heads and figures clad in thirteenth-century armour. A narrow stair winds up to the ancient rood-loft above.

Turning to the southern side of the rood-screen, we are confronted by the rich and sumptuous fabric erected by Bishop Gower, a view of which forms the Frontispiece of the present volume. Yonder the n.o.ble founder sleeps his last sleep beneath a richly-groined canopy, whose traceried arches sparkle with cusps and crockets--a dignified, reposeful figure, worthy the Wykeham of the West, as Gower has been fitly styled. In memory of his greatest work Gower's tomb once bore the legend, 'Henricus Gower, Episcopalis Palatio Constructor.'

After gazing our fill upon this beautiful structure, unquestionably the _chef d'oeuvre_ of the whole cathedral, we pa.s.s through the central archway beneath a vaulted roof, whose stony ribs, disdaining the customary support, spring clear of the circ.u.mjacent masonry. Here venerable tombs cl.u.s.ter beneath fretted ceilings that retain much of their ancient coloured fresco work, depicting figures, foliage, and fantastic forms which in nowise transgress the Scriptural commandment, for they bear little or no resemblance to any created thing.

We next enter the choir, which occupies the s.p.a.ce beneath the central tower. Upon either hand extends a range of canopied stalls, with seats devoted to the use of the dean and chapter of the cathedral.

These old miserere seats were so ingeniously balanced that if an unwary brother chanced to nod over his breviary, he was quickly brought to his seven senses by the overturning of his treacherous perch.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SEAFARING PILGRIMS.]

The under-sides of these curious benches have been adorned by the craftsmen of that bygone time with the quaint conceits of their mediaeval fancy. Here, for instance, a vigorously carved panel portrays in unmistakeable fashion the woebegone plight of two seafaring pilgrims, whom a pair of jolly monks are ferrying across the troubled waters of Ramsey Sound.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BONE OF CONTENTION.]

Yonder some subtle humorist has been at work, and given us his version of the priest under the guise of a fox administering the wafer to a goose of a layman: and it may be noticed that (after the olden custom) the priest reserves the wine flagon to himself. This forms the subject of our sketch at end of Chapter VIII. Two wolfish-looking dogs snarling over a bone may by some be thought to prove the antiquity of the familiar couplet,

'Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief, Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BOATBUILDERS.]

Then we have a couple of st.u.r.dy boat-builders, one of whom, having laid aside his adze, drains the contents of a capacious cup, while a mighty beaker stands ready to his hand.

With such-like quaint original devices have those men of old encrusted the surface of these ancient stalls. So, having done justice to their curious details, we pa.s.s on through a _second_ screen separating the chancel from the presbytery, an arrangement peculiar, we believe, to St.

Davids Cathedral. This portion of the fabric was rebuilt with pointed arches after the fall of the central tower in 1220, and contains some extremely interesting features.

The place of honour in the centre of the presbytery is occupied by the tomb of Edmund Tudor, father of Henry VII., a ma.s.sive table monument of Purbeck marble, enriched with shields and heraldic devices, and bearing the proud inscription: 'Under this Marble Shrine here enclos'd resteth the Bones of that n.o.ble Lord, Edmund Earl of Richmond, Father and Brother to Kings, the which departed out of this World in the Year of our Lord G.o.d a thousand four hundred fifty and six, the first Day of the Month of November, on whose Soul almighty Jesus have Mercy, Amen.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: SAINT DAVID'S SHRINE.]

Upon the north side of the presbytery rises the stone structure that formed the base of St. David's Shrine. It is the work of Bishop Richard de Carew, and dates from the latter half of the thirteenth century. The three arches seen in our sketch were once adorned with figures representing St. David. St. Patrick and St. Denis, while the quatrefoil openings beneath were provided with small lockers to receive the offerings of devotees. In the presbytery we also notice a small circular piscina of very ancient date pierced with concentric rows of holes--a rare and curious feature.

After examining the handsome effigy of Bishop Anselm Le Gros, nephew of Earl William of Pembroke, with its laconic couplet--

'Petra Precor dic sic Anselmus Episcopus jacet hic'

two fine rec.u.mbent figures of very ancient date arrest our attention, none other than those famous South Welsh princes, the Lord Rhys ap Gruffydd and his son, Rhys Grygg.

Higden, in his quaint 'Polychronicon,' breaks forth into unbounded panegyrics over the great Lord Rhys: 'O blysse of battayle!' he exclaims, 'Chylde of Chyvalry! defence of Countrie! worshyppe of Armes!

the n.o.ble dyadame of fayrnesse of Wales is now fallen, that is, Rees is dead. The Enemy is heere, for Rees is not heere; now Wales helpeth not itself; Rees is dead and taken away, but hys n.o.ble Name is not dead, for it is alwayes new in the wide Worlde. His Prowesse pa.s.seth hys manners; hys Wytte pa.s.seth hys Prowesse: hys fayre Speech pa.s.seth hys Wytte; hys good Thews pa.s.seth hys fayre Speech!'

Not to prolong the subject _ad nauseam_, we will merely indicate as more particularly worthy of notice the tomb of Silvester Medicus; a rec.u.mbent effigy _reputed_ to be that of Giraldus Cambrensis, of Manorbere; the ma.s.sive shrine of St. Caradoc; and two early Celtic crosses in the south transept, bearing the device

[Ill.u.s.tration]

with the legend PONTIFICIS ABRAHAM FILII.

We next glance into St. Thomas's Chapel, one of the oldest portions of the fabric, whose ma.s.sive groined roof is adorned with sculptured bosses of unusual size. Here is a piscina enclosed within a group of pointed arches, whose lovely Early English enrichments form one of the daintiest features of the cathedral.

We now enter the beautiful chapel erected by Edward Vaughan, the last of the great building prelates of St. Davids. It boasts a handsome fan-vaulted ceiling, and a peculiar hagioscope fashioned like a cross within a circle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SYMBOL OF THE TRINITY ST. DAVID'S.]

Some curious details attract our notice as we wander amongst the unrestored chapels. In one of these, a trio of sculptured quadrupeds suggests the idea of the Trinity, while another contains the effigy of a knight in chain-mail, shorn of half its length by a clumsy b.u.t.tress--a legacy from the days of churchwarden misrule.

Outside the Lady Chapel stood St. Mary's Well, which according to tradition arose at the prayer of St. David to supply the neighbouring monastery. Giraldus tells us that this accommodating spring would sometimes flow with wine, at other times with milk, and that it was the scene of many edifying miracles.

Sauntering around the mellow-tinted walls of the old cathedral, we notice the huge flying b.u.t.tresses built against its northern side to strengthen the fabric. These rugged bastions, clothed in their luxuriant mantle of ivy, with the crumbling arches of the ruined cloisters hard by, group in a picturesque fashion beneath the central tower, whose broad front, bronzed by the rays of the declining sun, forms a rallying-point for a host of homing jackdaws.

A bowshot westward of the cathedral stand the beautiful ruins of the Bishop's Palace, rising from amidst the rich meadows beside the Allan River. Our route thither lies over the stony way called the Popples, the ancient approach to St. David's Shrine, and traverses the low-arched bridge that superseded the Llechllafar, or Speaking Stone, which in olden times spanned the stream at this point.

Many a curious legend clung around this venerable stone, which Giraldus tells us was even in his time worn hollow by the feet of wayfarers.

Tradition avers that Llechllafar was wont to cry out in remonstrance if a corpse was carried across it; and Merlin is said to have foretold that an English king, returning from the conquest of Ireland, was to meet his death upon this spot. So when Henry II. chanced this way, a disappointed suppliant endeavoured to foist this sinister prediction upon him; but the King, having made a suitable oration to the stone, pa.s.sed over it unharmed to make his orisons before the Shrine of St. David.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BISHOP GOWER'S PALACE ST. DAVIDS.]

Turning from the scene of these miraculous events, we pa.s.s a group of lowly cottages and enter the ruined gateway of the palace. Across a stretch of greensward, close-cropped by flocks of sheep, rise the ruined walls of Bishop Gower's lordly dwelling; the open-arched parapets casting a dappled shade athwart the gra.s.s-grown courtyard.

Built in the Decorated style that prevailed throughout the fourteenth century, this interesting structure extends around a quadrangle, of which two sides remain in fair preservation, the others being either much in ruins, or entirely razed to the ground. Everything here speaks of peace and bygone hospitality. A wide ogee archway adorned with sculptured niches gives access to the banqueting-hall, an apartment of n.o.ble proportions adorned with an exquisite rose window still in good preservation. Near at hand rises the chapel, with its picturesque bell-turret and pointed windows; while over all runs a pretty open arcade, borne upon huge corbels embellished with grotesque heads and strange fantastic monsters. A pleasant variety has been obtained by arranging the stonework above the arches in a kind of diaper pattern, as may be seen in the accompanying sketch taken from the meadows, whence the rose window forms a very charming feature. With the lapse of time these venerable ruins have mellowed into all sorts of harmonious hues, where golden lichens, valerian and climbing plants innumerable, have run riot over the rough purple sandstone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PALACE ST. DAVID'S FROM THE MEADOWS.]

From the ford across the little stream beneath the palace walls, a charming view is obtained of the ancient bridge and its rough, ivy-clad abutments, backed by the ma.s.sive front of the cathedral and the picturesque tower and arches of St. Mary's College.

Built by Bishop Adam Houghton towards the close of the fourteenth century, the college chapel, with its vast Perpendicular windows, must in former times have presented an imposing appearance. Here the founder lay at rest under a sumptuous canopy, of which, however, not a vestige now remains. Beneath the chapel is a low groined crypt, but the various collegiate offices which lay to the north have long since been swept away; while the crumbling arcades of the cloisters serve nowadays to shelter the benches of the masons employed in repairing the cathedral.

St. Non's Chapel, the reputed birthplace of St. David, stands in an open meadow overlooking the sea, about a mile outside the city. It is a mere tumbled ma.s.s of rude cyclopean masonry, and has no features worthy of note save a simple cross enclosed within a circle, engraved upon an upright slab of stone. An ancient well dedicated to St. Non, the mother of St. David, occupies a corner of the same field.

Some quaint traditions hang around the old chapel called Capel Stinian, whose scanty ruins overlook Ramsey Sound. St. Justinian, the patron saint, was treacherously slain by his own followers on Ramsey Island, whereupon the holy man arose, walked across the straits, and was buried where his chapel now stands. The a.s.sa.s.sins, having been smitten with leprosy, were banished to Gwahan Garreg, the Lepers' Rock. The story runs that the Puritans stole away the chapel bells, which were famed for their musical sound; but a great storm arising, the vessel in which they endeavoured to escape with their booty was overwhelmed, and the bells cast into the sea. So on stormy nights when the deep, strong tide is troubling the waters, the dwellers near Ramsey Sound still hear the chimes of those long-lost bells, above all the strife of the elements.