Returning to quarters by another route we fetch a wide compa.s.s round; pursuing the path that hugs the sh.o.r.e, which, hereabouts, is indented by several fissures of very peculiar character. A short distance beyond the cromlech we encounter the first of these; a chasm so narrow that a boy might leap across it, yet of imposing depth, with sides as smooth and perpendicular as any house wall, and floored with the seething ocean.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Church Path Manorbere]

A quarter of a mile farther on we strike a little way inland, to investigate a still more remarkable _lusus naturae_ of a similar kind.

Here the insidious onslaught of the waves has tunnelled beneath the intervening cliff, and penetrated far into the land; excavating a dark, narrow, and profound fissure in the perpendicular strata of the Old Red sandstone; so that, gazing seaward through the cleft, we can see the foaming surf sparkling in the sunlight upon the rocks beyond. Thence we extend our ramble to Castle Head, a rocky point jutting boldly out to sea, and scarped with the broad, fern-clad furrows of a prehistoric earthwork. This appears to have been the stronghold of some invader from over seas; for the protecting banks curve inland, and, sweeping down to the rocks on either hand, enclose the outer extremity of the headland.

Secured thus against attack upon their landward flank, the occupants were protected in rear by the broad expanse of the 'inviolate ocean,'

whose restless billows, surging far below, mingle their music in wild harmony with the harsh cries of countless sea-fowl.

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

Breasting the rough ascent, we now march across the upland meadows of Parson's Piece; making in a 'bee-line' for Manorbere Church, whose slim gray tower peers over an intervening bank. Perched high aloft upon a bleak hillside, across whose treeless heights 'breathes the shrill spirit of the western wind,' this venerable fabric rises in lonely isolation, and confronts in peaceful rivalry the towers and battlements of the grim old fortalice that crowns the opposite hill.

For quaint picturesqueness, and the singular grouping of its various parts, this curious old church stands unrivalled, even in this land of remarkable churches, combining as it does almost every feature characteristic of such buildings throughout the locality. Originally in all probability a cruciform structure, the church has apparently been added to at various times in a capricious fashion; so that the exterior now presents the quaintest imaginable variety of walls, windows and gables; all jumbled together in seemingly haphazard fashion, and falling into fantastic groups, as may be seen from the adjoining sketch.

It will be noticed that one of the gables is surmounted by the original bell-cot, which probably existed prior to the erection of the tower; the latter rises above a medley of roofs upon the northern side of the chancel, and contains a bell inscribed with the legend: EXALTEMUS NOMEN DOMINI, 1639.

Pa.s.sing around to the south porch, we enter a low nave arched over with a slightly-pointed, stone-vaulted ceiling. Strange, low, rudely-fashioned arches, entirely disdaining the support of pillars, rise sheer from the level of the floor upon either hand, giving access to the narrow aisles behind. These arches are, unfortunately, so enveloped in the general coating of whitewash, that it is impossible now to discover whether they were originally built as arches, proper, or are merely openings cut through the walls when the aisles were added to the nave. A little window of early type opens above one of these arches; the sole survivor of some old windows that existed previous to the building of the aisles.

Short, tunnel-like transepts open out on either hand, the one towards the north having a low ceiling, crossed by the curious arched ribs seen in our sketch above. The gangway that formerly gave access to the rood-loft now leads, in a queer, tortuous course, from the north aisle across the adjacent transept to the tower, which is entered by a door high aloft in the wall.

To the right a 'squint' pa.s.sage opens skew-wise into the chancel, where, beneath a plain arched recess, lies the rec.u.mbent stone effigy of a Crusader clad in chain mail, having his legs crossed at the knees and sword and shield, charged with the arms of De Barri, beside him. This monument commemorates one of the ancient lords of Manorbere, who 'came over with the Conqueror,' and shared with Fitz-Hamon and his knights in the part.i.tion of these lands.

The handsome traceried screen that stretches athwart the narrow chancel arch was erected about five-and-twenty years ago, when a vigorous effort was made to arrest the deplorable condition of ruin and decay, to which time and neglect had reduced this interesting church.

A few ivy-mantled fragments of an ancient structure that formerly served as the parish school, are supposed to be the remains of a chantry founded by the De Barri who lies buried in the church.

We now stroll leisurely homeward through the gloaming, while the slender young moon peers over the shoulder of a neighbouring hill. As we approach the castle, its shadowy front looms darkly silhouetted upon a daffodil and emerald sky; while the zenith is still suffused with translucent rosy light, and the pale stars peep one by one as the daylight slowly wanes. Now the little flittermice awake once more to life, and flicker to and fro with wavering flight; while a colony of chattering jackdaws discusses the day's events upon the ruined battlements. Yonder, like a thief of the night, a great white owl steals silently by, soft as a drift of thistledown, yet keen as fate to 'spot'

the errant mouse, roaming in search of a meal too far from home.

Thus we recross the drawbridge to the hospitable abode, whose latticed windows emit a heartsome ray of light that seems a lode-star to the wayfarers. Pretty tired after our long day's ramble, we clamber up the corkscrew stair to a certain turret chamber, where, in next to no time, we lose ourselves in the drowsy arms of Morpheus.

The busy man, hard pressed by the _Sturm und Drang_ of city life, may find at Manorbere recreation in the truest sense; and should he be blessed with a congenial hobby, he may entertain himself in this secluded spot to his heart's content.

To the lover of Nature the place offers many attractions. In the course of rambles around the varied coast-line, or amidst the hills and dales of the inland country, the wanderer with a turn that way may study the mellow lichen-clad rocks of the Old Red sandstone; and will not fail to notice their well-defined junction at Skrinkle Haven with the limestone formation, which reappears across the Sound in the cave-worn crags of Caldey. Or, again, he may note how the salmon-red ploughlands of the Ridgeway attest the presence of the older rocks, as they rise from the superinc.u.mbent stratum of the mountain limestone.

These conditions afford, within a limited compa.s.s, a great diversity of soil and situation; providing a congenial habitat to many varieties of ferns and wild-flowers. The botanist will look for prizes amongst the rich pastures of the Vale of St. Florence, the woodland paths around St.

Issells, and the lush marshlands of Penally; while the sandy burrows of Tenby, Lydstep and Castle Martin, and even the crumbling ruins of some castle or ancient priory, will yield their tale of treasure for the vasculum.

Indeed, wander whither he may, the lover of Nature will find a wealth of beauty on every hand. Let him clamber amidst the tumbled boulders, where the samphire thrives on the salt sea spray; and explore the rock-pools left by the receding tide, whose weed-fringed depths are tenanted by plump sea-urchins, nestling sociably among zoophytes, sponges, and delicate 'lady's-fingers.' Or he may choose to wander along the sands of Saundersfoot and Tenby, where haply he may light upon rare sh.e.l.ls of many a dainty hue; while queer little crabs scuttle hither and thither amidst the stranded starfish, and other derelict flotsam and jetsam left behind by the receding tide.

And as the changing seasons cast their ever-varying charm upon land and sea, the artist in search of 'fresh woods and pastures new' will find, in this unfrequented country, endless subjects ready to his hand worthy the brush of a Brett, or an Alfred Parsons. Perchance he will set up his easel where the ruddy sandstone cliffs, soaring in weather-stained crags above broad sweeps of untrodden sand, are crowned with a diadem of golden gorse; while a breadth of sunlit sea stretching away to the horizon will serve as an excellent background. Or haply he may plant his white umbrella in some secluded nook, where a picturesque old cottage, with mighty, bulging chimney and moss-grown roofs, nestles beneath a group of wind-swept ash trees; the softly folding landscape lines showing faintly beyond.

Many a beauty-spot such as this gladdens the wayfarer as he roams through the byways of this pleasant land; and the landscape-painter may easily 'go farther and fare worse,' than by spending a season in Pembrokeshire.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IV.

PEMBROKE TOWN AND CASTLE. STACKPOLE AND THE SOUTHERN COAST.

In course of time the _Wanderl.u.s.t_ returns in full force upon us; so bidding farewell to our hospitable entertainers, we transfer ourselves bag and baggage to the county-town; in order to explore from that convenient starting-point the remoter recess of South Pembrokeshire.

The district locally known as the Stackpole Country forms part of the hundred of Castle Martin, and is the southernmost land of the county.

Lying apart from any town or railway, it is somewhat difficult of access; but though boasting few striking features to attract the ordinary tourist, it yet offers no small attractions to the wanderer who can appreciate 'the pleasures of the quiet eye.'

Threading our way at first amidst rather intricate lanes, we pa.s.s once more through Hodgeston village, whence our route is all plain sailing.

Near Lamphey Church we fall into the main road, which runs in a bee-line beside softly-swelling hills, until the long street of Pembroke is entered at its eastern end.

The 'lie' of this town has been not inaptly likened to the shape of a herring-bone; the castle precincts occupying the head (whereof the great donjon answers to the eye), while the long main street, with its branching lanes and gardens, suggests the vertebral bone of the fish with its radial spines. _Apropos_ of the situation of the town, we refer to our trusty Leland and read that 'Pembroch standith upon an arme of Milforde, the which, about a mile beyond the Towne, creketh in so that it almost peninsulateth the Towne, that standith on a veri main Rokki ground. The Towne is well waullid and hath iii gates by Est, West and North; of which the Est gate is fairest and strongest, having afore it a compasid Tour not rofid in; the entering whereof is a Port colys, _ex solide ferro_.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: PEMBROKE.]

Neither gate nor 'compasid Tour' now spans the prosaic-looking street; and the houses in this eastern suburb have small pretensions to beauty.

We catch a hasty glimpse, however, of the 'two paroche chirches'

discovered by our author; and entertain ourselves _en route_ by trying to p.r.o.nounce the curious, unfamiliar surnames such as Hopla, Treweeks, Malefant and Tyzard, emblazoned above the shop-fronts: while an occasional G.o.dolphin, Pomeroy or Harcourt, attests the strain of sang-azure that lingers yet among the _bourgeoisie_ of the ancient borough.

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

Midway adown the High Street rises a mighty elm, whose spreading branches quite overshadow the adjacent dwellings. Presently we catch a glimpse of Pembroke Castle, beyond a pretty vista of old-fashioned structures whose quaint, irregular outlines stand sharply cut against the clear sky.

The records of this great historic fortress would alone suffice to fill a bulky volume; the best account of the earls, earldom and castle of Pembroke being, perhaps, that by G. T. Clark, Esq.; and there is a detailed description of the building by the present proprietor, J. R.

Cobb, Esq. We will not attempt, therefore, to give more than a slight outline of its past history.

Pembroke Castle was originally built by Arnulph de Montgomery, in the reign of William Rufus; and it was greatly enlarged and strengthened by Earl Strongbow, the invader of Ireland, who held it in the time of Henry I.

A romantic story is related of his predecessor, the King's castellan, Gerald de Windsor, who espoused the beautiful but notorious Nesta. A certain Welsh chieftain, named Owen ap Cadwgan, beheld the famous beauty presiding one day with her ladies at a tournament (like the moon amidst her satellites); when, sighing like Alcestis for the Queen of night, the enamoured warrior determined to possess himself of his seductive charmer. Obtaining access to the castle at dead of night, Owen wrested his victim from the arms of her outraged lord, and carried her off to his stronghold among the mountains. Though a large reward was offered by the King to anyone who should capture or slay the outlawed man, it was eight long years before justice was vindicated, when Gerald, meeting his adversary, put an end to his career by an avenging arrow.

But to return to history. William, Earl Mareschal of Pembroke, was honoured with a visit from that sorry monarch, King John. During the Edwardian period, the castle was enlarged and strengthened by the addition of the outer ward. In 1457 Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond (afterwards King Henry VII.), was born at Pembroke Castle.

During the Civil Wars the garrison made a gallant defence against a large force under Oliver Cromwell. One tragic episode that closed the eventful days of the siege may be mentioned here. Upon the fall of the castle the three leaders, Poyer, Mayor of the town, Powell, Governor of the castle, and Laugharne, the whilom Parliamentary Colonel, were expressly exempted from the pardon extended to the garrison. These three men were condemned to death: but Parliament in its clemency resolving to punish only one of them, they were directed by Cromwell's orders to draw lots as to who should suffer the penalty. Two papers were inscribed 'Life given by G.o.d'; the third was a blank. A child drew the lots, when the blank fell to the ill-fated Poyer; who was afterwards shot in the Piazza, Covent Garden, 'dying very penitently,' as we are told. After the fortress was delivered into Cromwell's hands, it was so effectually dismantled that, to this day, the results of his destructive work are only too manifest.

The ruins of Pembroke Castle still present, after the lapse of centuries of neglect and decay, a truly magnificent appearance. The ma.s.sive towers and ivy-curtained walls crown a bold and rocky eminence, that rises abruptly from the tidal waters of Milford Haven; sweeping around the landward face of the promontory, and enclosing a broad and s.p.a.cious castle garth.

In the centre rises the great donjon tower, which stands as an enduring memorial of William de la Grace, the great Earl Mareschal, who in all probability designed the main fabric of the castle as we see it to-day.

An imposing _coup d'oeil_ of the ruins may be obtained by turning down Dark Lane, crossing the old bridge that spans the stream hard beneath the castle, and entering a timber-yard close by. Prominent in the view is a lofty tower, mantled in glossy-green ivy and pierced with graceful pointed windows, that soars from the river brink, enclosing, deep below its foundations, that 'mervelous vault called the Hogan,' whence the garrison in olden times drew their supplies of water.

Beside the tower extends a long stretch of ivy-clad wall, rooted in the living rock and broken at intervals by shapely turrets; over which peep the upper works of the central keep. The spars and cordage of some stranded coasting vessels, and a group of men calking their weather-beaten timbers, lend an added charm to an exceedingly picturesque scene.

We are indebted to Leland for the ensuing description of the castle as it appeared in the days of bluff King Hal: 'The Castel stondeth hard by the waul on a hard Rokke, and is veri large and stronge, being doble wardid. In the atter ward I saw the chaumbre wher King Henri the vii was borne; in knowledge whereof a chymmeney is now made, with the armes and Badges of King Henri vii. In the botom of the great stronge Towr, in the inner warde, is a mervelous vault called the Hogan.' Another chronicler of very different stamp, the late Professor Freeman, thus records his impressions of this interesting pile: 'Pembroke Castle remarkably combines elevation and ma.s.siveness, so that its effect is one of vast general bulk. It is another conspicuous instance of the majesty often accruing to dismantled buildings, which they could never have possessed when in a perfect state.'

Traversing the outer barbican that protected the deep-set entrance, we pause to marvel at the elaborate defences of double portcullis and thick, nail-studded doors, commanded by loopholed guard-chambers, set within the gloomy arches of the gate-tower. The latter presents a stately front, flanked by attached round towers, overlooking the inner court; and contains a number of fine apartments for the accommodation of distinguished guests.

We next turn our attention to the adjacent barbican tower, whose ma.s.sive walls are seamed from top to base by huge, gaping rents, through which the daylight peers; yet so great is their tenacity they still remain intact, and support the original stone roof. Each story is pierced with loopholes, ingeniously constructed to prevent missiles entering from below. The s.p.a.cious courtyard enclosed by the outer walls is carpeted with velvety turf, whereon 'the quality' are wont to foregather from far and near to wield the tennis-racket, and contest for 'deuce' and 'love'

upon the selfsame spot where, in the brave days of old, the Harcourts and De Valances, and all the flower of Norman chivalry, flung down the gauntlet or broke a lance upon the field of honour, while fair spectators waved encouragement from every arch and balcony.