THE WONDERS OF ST. GOVAN’S CHAPEL.
In a ravine that cuts into the rugged cliffs by St. Govan’s Head on the south coast of Pembrokeshire, is a little chapel, once the hermitage of the saint whose name the headland bears. St. Govan was a disciple of St. David, and he had an adventurous life in this lonely part of Wales many hundreds of years ago.
The district was harried by pirates from the sea, and savage pagan tribesmen from the interior, and the very rocks and stones of his sea-girt dwelling place had often to come to the rescue of the holy man. But though he has been dead these fifteen hundred years the rocks, they say, still work wonders for the visitor who goes to the little chapel with a believing mind.
It is a tiny little place, twenty feet by twelve, with a stone tower up which runs a staircase of over fifty steps. Exactly how many there are you must try to count for yourself, for it is said that they vary, and never number the same going up as they do coming down. Once fierce pirates landed here and stole a silver bell that hung in the chapel.
Poor St. Govan was forced to hide from these wretches on many occasions. A friendly rock would then come to his aid—you may see it to-day to the left of the altar in the chapel. This rock would open, when the saint was pursued and disclose a hollow within just big enough to enclose his form. Then it would shut and hold the holy man in security until the danger was passed.
After St. Govan died, the rock remained part open as it is now, and they say that it will adapt itself to the size of anybody, who really believes in its powers, who wishes to enter it. And if, when you are in St. Govan’s hiding place, you make a wish, and do not change your mind before you have turned round to come out again, you will surely obtain your desires.
For many years, so the story goes, there was close by the chapel a rock that gave out a beautifully clear and musical note when struck. This rock, they said, contained the silver bell that the pirates stole, for these wicked men were not allowed to escape with their booty, for their ship was caught in a tremendous hurricane and swept on to the rocky shore, and all the miscreants were drowned.
But the stolen bell was saved by some miraculous power and carried to the rock, which became known as the “Bell-stone,” where it remained in security.
St. Govan’s holy well is situated a little below the chapel, and here cripples from all over Wales would travel to bathe in the healing waters which gave relief to their sufferings. There is another healing property in the cliffs near at hand, in the form of a deposit of red clay, which for centuries has had the reputation of curing sore eyes. But whether or not the earth and the waters around St. Govan’s Chapel will work their magic for you now, the winds that blow straight in from the Atlantic to this rockbound Pembroke coast will cure most ailments, and bring back health and renewed vigour to the most weary.
Pembroke is a good centre for this hilly land of castles. From here you may make excursions to some of the finest coast scenery in Wales, or crossing Milford Haven adventure into that beautiful and little known country that fringes the shore of St. Bride’s Bay.
Haverfordwest, a fascinating sleepy old town with three ancient churches, is a few miles on the other side of Milford Haven, which you cross in a steam ferry; and from there a motor omnibus service will take you to far away little St. Davids, the “Cathedral Village,” with its wonderful Norman Cathedral Church. It is a magnificent journey that, from Haverfordwest to St. Davids, across a wild and windswept country with seventeen steep hills to negotiate in sixteen miles, and a magnificent view from the top of each one of them. And at the end of the road one of the choicest churches in the whole country, nestling in a sheltered valley, awaits you, and that sense of complete peace and quiet that can only be found in a place utterly remote from crowds, and the hustle and worry of modern life.
