JOURNAL of A TEN DAYS' TOUR FROM ULEY IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE, BY WAY of ROSS; Down the
RIVER WYE to CHEPSTOW; ABERGAVENNY, BRECON, HEREFORD, MALVERN. &c. &c. -- Augst 1807
[A transcription of Bloomfield's prose journal of his Wye tour from the text as it
appears, with his sketches and pasted-in maps and notes, in British Library Additional
Manuscript 28267. The folio numbers on which the text and the sketches appear are
indicated here within square brackets. Bloomfield's spelling and punctuation are preserved.
His deletions are represented by words struckthrough; insertions above the line appear
<thus>. The titles of Bloomfield's sketches appear in italics between square brackets
at the appropriate places in the text]
Note: In my 'Shooters Hill'
(1)
Lines 73 and 79-80 of Bloomfield's poem 'Shooter's Hill', published in his third collection
Wild Flowers (1806).I have said,
'Of Cambrian Mountains still I dream'&c. &c. but,'Tis not for me to trace aroundThe wonders of my native land'5I find that it was through reading that poem that the tour was resolv'don, at least that I became one of the party. My friends guess'd that Ishould like it, and they never form'd a better guess in their lives.
Stouts Hill. Uley.Aug. 18010
Uley is situated in rather a singular valley, about seven miles from the Severn. It appears to be surrounded by abrupt and woody hills, except on the north, where
a bold promontory, with an old camp on its brow, calld the 'Berry,'
(2)
or partially formed by ants RBC. [MS note in the hand of Robert Bransby Cooper].
lifts its bald head; and whose sides, yielding plenty of stone for building, are extremly
steep. Yet they are not hills, but merely the terminations of the upland country of
Gloucestershire termed the 'Cotswold Levels' and here they break suddenly into the
vale of the Severn:
and the valley of Uley is sunk so as to be approached by a stranger without the smallest suspicion of there
being a valley before him. Cotswold is an immense Gloucester cheese, and Uley valey is a half-pound notch cut in his side.
The town of Dursley lies in the opening of the same valley, towards the Severn, and immediately under
Stinchcomb Hill, one of the most remarkable of these bluff points, as standing majestically forward into the vale of Severn, and consequently commanding a very extensive view in all directions, particularly
down the stream, over Kingwood,
Bristol, the mouth of the Wye, the Monmouthshire, and Black Mountains; the Forest of Dean; May Hill; Malvern Hills, in Worcestershire; and the city of Gloster, &c. — — — Both Dursley and Uley are employ'd in the manufacture of Broad-cloth, and was I to abuse their Steam Engines,
that fill so delightful a valey with smoke, they would probably begin reminding me
of my coat, and not unlikely of the time when I was hampered to get one! I mean to
let them alone!
The village of Owlpen stands under the hanging woods at the top of Uley Vale. It is very small, and near
its curious and obscure church runs the little rill
(4)
of fifty yards from its issuing from the ground. [Bloomfield's note].
, with several natural cascades, (the first I had ever seen), which, in its further
progress, becomes of such importance to the clothiers. The Curate of Uley preaches here once a fortnight, and he lately ran the hazard of his life by the falling
of the sounding-board, which struck him a violent blow on the head.— The country immediately
round this valley on the high ground, is every where intersected by stone walls; for
stone, a brick thickness, more or less, is the invariable consequence of digging ten
inches into the ground; they are merely piled, without morter, easily made, and as
easily mended. A strange desolate appearance! In the valley there is no such thing.
The verdure is of the most vivid green, and the uneven boundary of woods on the allmost
perpendicular sides of the high grounds, form the finest amphitheatre I have ever
seen. But hold! I am going down the Wye!
Berkley Castle, <distant 5 miles,> lies in sight from the heights; but I could <can>not reach it at present in any of my expiditions, but have frequently thought
of Gray, and the
'Shrieks of an agonizing King.'
From Dursley
to the Severn side at Framelode, the lowlands fall with a slow, gradual descent; The passage-house is finely situated,
and the boats are fitted up for the conveying horses and carriages across the stream.
The water of the Severn is here but narrow, but owing to the occasional tides of uncommon height, the sands
are extensive; the current is rapid. Barrow Hill is a charming spot, rising in the
neck of a horseshoe form'd by the Severn, and gives <giving> a great command of the country. Here we found plentifully the petrified shell
of the Nautilus; and pebbles, which in the neighbourhood of Uley are not seen, nor the least appearance of chalk, or flint. Horses, I observe, appear
to be struck with a kind of tremulous submission on finding themselves floating; one
Barge carried the seven. But to float each sociable, two barges were lash'd side by
side, and the carriage placed across upon planks. One Boat of course carried all the
party, and we were soon all on terrey-firma again, and climbing the high-ground, leaving
May Hill on our right. Passd Flaxley Abbey, the seat of Sir Thos Crawley. The woods on this estate are chiefly Oak, of good
growth, and covering the side hills in a manner truly sublime.
The road leads on by Gun's Mills, and to Mitcheldean, the oldest town situated in a most beautiful country, and whose church has a spire of uncommon height,
and so slender as to make one tremble for the
builder. Yet on entering the place it keeps no promises made at a distance, but is
the Oldest Town (in appearance) that can be found <imagined>, singularly unpleasing to the eye. Here I observed a stone cross, almost
perfect, having an upright stone on which the cro Image was formerly placed. ——
During the ride from hence to Ross, had two or three peeps at the Malvern Hills, in Worcestershire, and the 'Skirit' and Sugarloaf in Monmouthshire. — 'Bailey's Side' is a fine bold eminence on the left, cloathd
with wood, with a range, or strata of Rock breaking through it, and forming a curious
contrast with the green above and below. Penyard Hill, in the neighbourhood of Ross, is nearly of the same description, but is on every side covered by steep woods,
so that they assert that no sparrows were ever known on the farm on its brow; This
I think possible, as the sparrow is so entirely domestic, and avoids woods in general;
and in this case his flight would be unusually long, and almost perpendicular.
(Arrived at Ross at 7. evening)
Ross is not a town to my fancy, in appearance perhaps it is the prevalence of Rock, and
of Rock-stone in their buildings that gives it a kind of dreary look to one unused
to such buildings. The church, with its taper spire, stands on elevated ground, and
from <it> is a view of the River Wye winding eel-fashion, below. Many of the elms
planted by 'Kyrle,' Pope's 'Man of Ross,'
(7)
third Epistle, 'To the Right Honourable Allen Lord Bathurst', lines 250-90, and note:
'The Person here celebrated, who with so small an estate actually performed all these
good works, and whose true Name was almost lost (partly by the Title of the Man of
Ross given him by way of eminence, and partly by being buried without so much as an
Inscription) was called Mr. John Kyrle. He died in the year 1724, aged 90, and lies
interr'd in the Chancel of the Church of Ross in Herefordshire.'
are growing in the church yard and neighbourhood. The ruins of Wilton Castle are seen across the stream in the oposite meadows, and a man in the churchyard very
seriously informed us, that 'the said castle was knock'd down by cannon, in a great rebellion in the time of the Romans!'
During my short stay at Ross, I called
on an old acquaintance and fellow-tradesman, whom I had not seen for eleven years.
He keeps a shoemaker's shop, oposite the Swan Inn, where we lodg'd.
(Left Ross at 8. morning, 18th)
At eight in the morning assembled to the number of ten, on board a pleasure Boat,
(8)
See Suzanne Matheson, 'Enchanting Ruin: Tintern Abbey and Romantic Tourism in Wales',
store'd with provisions, and Bottles, &c. &c. The sociables having been order'd forward
to meet us at Monmouth and Chepstow.
(9)
he had often bought good cider for sixpence per gallon, and expected it as cheap this
season. [Bloomfield's note].
But how shall I attempt to describe the natural beauties of this charming River, or
the objects seen during the passage? I must not attempt it! a journal is not a vehicle
of sufficient importance. My heart is brimfull of indescribable pleasure when I think
on this day! Beauty in all its variety is perhaps its leading feature, But sublimity
is paramount to all considerations at the passage under Coldwell Rocks, and round to New Weir, and Great Doward, and thence on to Monmouth. Every body knows that the Wye is exceedingly deep in places, and falls beautifully
in others over ledges of Rocks, so as to form, not cascades, but rapids, where the
water hurries along with a visible descent. It is winding in its course to a great degree, inconceivably pelucid, and
in general, the hills rise majestically steep from its shores.
We dined on board the Boat, on the right bank of the stream, near the spring called
'Cold well' and here is a new-erected Monument in memory of a youth drowned here in sight of
his parents! the inscription is long, and excellent, but I neglected to copy it
(10)
Beneath a dark wood's sombrous frown, / A monumental stone appears, / Of one who in
his blooming years, / While bathing spurn'd the grassy shore, / And sunk, midst friends,
to rise no more; / By parents witness'd.––Hark! their shrieks! / The dreadful language
horror speaks! / But why in verse attempt to tell / That tale the stone records so
well?'
Permission for its erection was granted by Mr. Vaughan of Monmouth, the owner of the
land; and though, for
several reasons, I could individually wish the monument not there, I think it does honour to him to grant it, and though, as 'the Lord of Courtfield,' I have condemnd his taste, I know nothing disrespectful of his heart. — Coldwell Rocks, on the Gloster side of the stream, are particularly grand and impressive, and the
circumstance of having one of them baptized by my name, by the company, I have noticed
elsewhere.
(11)
and grasp'd his hand, / In native mirth, as here they came, / Gave a bluff rock his
humble name: / A yew-tree clasps its rugged base; / The boatman knows its reverend
face; / With his memory and his fee, / Rests the result that time shall see.'
At the neck of a long horseshoe form'd by this river, the rocky eminence called 'Symmons' Yat' obtrudes itself to a vast height between the two points of the approach of the river.
Instead of going round with the boat, it is usual for the party to ascend the rocks
from A to B where the ridge terminates in a high bank of perpendicular Rock not more
than twenty yards wide, and to join the boat again at new Wier. An old woman was our guide, who led us over this isthmus untill our bones ached.—Three
of us outstript our companions, and finding they did not overtake us, I again left
my two companions, and climbd a pathless way, with intent to reach the summit which
I had missd. On nearly approaching the absolute perpendicular part of the cliff, I
heard voices at the top, and hallow'd and soon found <that> the hindmost part of the
company, had climbed the place before me. The old woman descended to become my pilot,
and the view paid amply for the labour. On the down-stream side of this bank of rock
lies the place called the 'New Wier,' or a kind of artificial means of keeping up the river, and accommodated by a lock.
here we embarkd again, and lookd back on the scene with encreased interest, for here,
projecting from the usual run of this rocky hill, stands allmost detachd, an upright
tower of stone very aptly term'd the Cathedral, or the 'Minster Rock,' (I forget which)
it is square and grotesque, and vast in its proportions. —— It was one of those charming
days that gratify us with their serenity and
peace. The clarionet sounded softly; yet the echo was perhaps the more enchanting.
To describe all the beauties of the passage was not my intention was I ever so capable.
There was one circumstance however that was to me curious. I had heard when at Ross, that the fishermen on this River, still used the identical kind of boat which Caesar
has described in his commentaries
(12)
his troops to make wickerwork boats covered with hides — similar to those seen on
Roman forays into southwestern England.
as being used in his time by the natives of Britain, and I hoped for an opportunity
of being convinced of its truth. When drawing near to Monmouth, after passing Great Doward, and drinking at Martin's well, we came among some fishermen who were disturbing
the water with long poles to dislodge the salmon. To accomplish this they occasionally
used an infant kind of boat, which they carry with them in their large one. It holds
but one person; is, as far as I can guess not more than 4 foot in length, goes with
the broadest end foremost, is worked by a paddle, has no keel or rudder, and is formd
of wickers only, and cover'd by an oil-skin outside to repel the water. The man paddles
himself on shore, jumps out, and takes his boat at his back with great ease. It had
a strange and even laughable appearance; It was impossible to keep the mind at home;
it would compare infancy and maturity, a 'Corricle' or 'Corracal' with the 'Victory,'
(13)
and Britain's greatest defeat of Napoleonic France when Bloomfield was writing.
and a Wye fisherman to Nelson.
(14)
his Observations on the River Wye, and several parts of South Wales, &c. relative
chiefly to picturesque beauty; made in the summer of the year 1770, 2nd edn (London,
1789), p. 40.
After an uninterrupted day of rational enjoyment we reachd Monmouth, at half-past seven in the evening; eleven hours and a half on the water.
(Monmouth at ½ past seven)
Monmouth [f. 26] (as the birthplace of Henry the 5th) may be considerd as a high curiosity
to the Antiquarian; but as we were obliged, on account of meeting the tide in our
way to Chepstow, to start at 6 the following morning, no great attention could be paid to the town.
The place of his birth, the castle, is nearly all demolish'd (Or else in the dark
we <you> could not find it says the antiquarian;—) They have a Noble Statue of him over
the Market House.
Left Monmouth at 6 in the morning, Wedy 19)
The sun strove to overlook the steeps of wood that enclosd us in, skirting our misty,
and delightfully indistinct passage down the River. The day rose, the mists dispersed,
and we met the tide just before we reachd the Village of Landauga, where the cottages rise one over the other in a manner particularly pleasing against
the morning sun. The reach of the river that commands the village of Landauga, exemplified in a striking manner that peculiar appearance which we had notic'd often
on the water this morning, and the preceding day. Viz. where the water was bounded
by high ground, and at the same time seemingly terminated by as high, or higher; it seemd <appeared> to decline from the eye, and to loose its natural horizontal level by
running extreemly downhill into the opposing emminence. We know that a River has in reality its natural declension, but this is a very strong and decided optical deception;
and it pleased me not a little.
Through the long reach below Ethels wier,
the water became turbid and slugish, until the tide turnd, and then it ran furiously
down, and soon brought us in sight of the Ruins of Tintern Abby. A place so often described by pen and by pencil,
(15)
“Lines. Composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, on revisiting the banks of the Wye
during a tour. July 13, 1798”
(1798) for he was an early admirer of Lyrical Ballads (see his letters of 19 April
1801 and of 2 September 1802 and (letters 52 and 94 of The Letters of Robert Bloomfield
and his Circle, ed. Tim Fulford and Lynda Pratt). Gilpin's Observations on the River
Wye and Charles Heath's guidebook Historic and Descriptive Accounts of the Ancient
and Present State of Tintern Abbey (1803) helped esta…
that I will not attempt it; only remarking that it must have been a place of extreem
beauty, and is now a place that strikes the eye, and fixes on the soul something like
the shackles of superstition; yet I would hope that reverence for an old place of
devotion is something deserving a better name. The door was open'd suddenly, and the
effect instantaneously overpowerd us all in different ways! It is grandeur in a place
where it would be least expected; a memorial of wealth and population now unseen in
its neighbourhood. The burial place of Strong-bow, the conqueror of Ireland, &c. Most of the party sat down and took sketches of the
interior; but I found it above my reach, and so
gave vent to my feelings by singing, for their amusement and my own, the 104th Psalm.
(16)
O LORD my God, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honour and majesty.Who coverest
thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain:
Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot:
who walketh upon the wings of the wind:Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers
a flaming fire: Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be removed
for ever. 5Thou coveredst it with the deep as with a garment: the waters stood above
th…
And though no 'fretted vault'
remains to harmonize the sound, it soothd me into those <that> state of mind which is most to be desired. We tarried here until the last moment <minute> of our allowance of time; the tide was ebbing, and if suffer'd to ebb too
far, some of the rapids further down would not have boasted sufficient depth to have
floated us to Chepstow. We took a hearty, but hasty breakfast, and I rather think the Welsh girl who waited
upon us was not sorry
to get rid of her company. We had been more than three hours on the water; and we
shall remember the Tintern Breakfast with pleasure if any part of our company go there, or meet each other again.
—Though in this latter part of our voyage the water was not so lovely an object in
itself, yet the grandeur of the scenery increased upon us every moment. The Rocks
calld 'Winlass leap,' and 'lovers leap,' and the more exalted eminence of Wind Cliff, in itself worth going an hundred miles to see. These, with the detached Rocks like
buttrasses, called the 'twelve apostles', and an infinity of minor beauties made themselves admired and respected on either
side, untill we reachd Chepstow Castle and Bridge; where we quitted the Wye with <a> regret, that those will best
appreciate; who have witnessed its power to enchant, and <seen> the objects in its
course.
(arrived at Chepstow about one)
The Castle of Chepstow stands on the Bank of the Wye immediately on the brink of a perpendicular rock of
vast height. It appears to have been a place <fortress> of uncommon strength. Here Martin (the Regicide) as he is calld, was long
confined by Charles ye Second, and one of the towers bears his name.
(18)
was, after the Restoration, imprisoned in Chepstow castle until his death in 1680.
Here each of the party found abundance of exercise for the mind and for the pencil,
but having passed 'Wind cliff' on our way down the river, we now visited it by
land, through the grounds of — Wells,
(19)
estate in 1802.
Esq. of Persfield, pursuing a wooded walk for about two miles, immediately on the edge of the rocks
that overhang the Wye, at nearly one end of this natural terrace, is the precipice
called 'Lovers Leap', down which the eye descends with a fearful complacency, as a thick wood covers
the bottom ground. they told us that its height was about sixty yards, I should guess
it more. An iron railing protects the walk at top, and the descent is as steep as
a wall. 'Wind Cliff', as seen by the map, is somthing further up the stream, and is magnificently grand.
The fantastic turns of the Wye, with its amphitheatre of woods, seemed diminishd;
but, if possible, increasd in beauty. The Severn's mouth; the Holmes, in its channel; the shipping at King-road, and all the country from below Bristol upwards untill Gloucester was lost in mist,
is compleatly under the eye. It is here calld the second view in england, and by Lord
North
(20)
during the American War of Independence. Stayed at Mount Edgcombe in 1766.
was preferd to 'Mount Edgecomb.'
The accompanying view of 'Wind Cliff' is taken from a part of Chepstow Castle, and it will give an additional idea of its magnitude if you observe that you
do not see the river at its foot, but look over very high ground, round which the
water comes from the right towards the centre of the drawing. If you look on the map
from Chepstow Castle to Wind Cliff, the whole will be understood.
(21)
note].
This drawing is done
by R. B. Cooper, Esq. a principal in our party, who uses his pencil with great freedom and expidition.
I prize it on his, and every account. ——— We spent a delightful and social evening
at the Beaufort Arms at Chepstow, and retired to rest, but not till we had walked to the Castle by Moonlight, where
we found an owl hooting lustily from the Battlements of Martin's Tower. We all stood to listen! and to admire! and certainly no imagination can form an
object and a scene half so impressive.
(Thursday 20th, at Chepstow)
The whole of this morning was spent in a thorough examination of the Ruin'd Castle,
but the time was too short; Many good drawings were made, and I attempted one amongst
the rest; The joists of the floors in Martin's Tower are still existing and are of solid Oak, about a foot square. It appears unaccountable
to me how, even by the lapse of ages, nutriment enough can be found for shrubs of
so large a growth as are flourishing between the outer and inner ramparts of these
towers, and on the top of the wall of course. This gangway, once the place of the
defenders of the fortress and its centinels, is now an absolute wild: a mixture of
Brambles, Hazel, Ash, Beech, and fruit trees, from twenty to thirty feet high at least.
The whole area of the Chappel which I was much taken with, (though the man in attendance
called it the banqueting-room) is coverd with thriving underwood. The look out from
its large windows must have been allmost dreadful, as that wall stands on, and is,
in truth the continuation of a perpendicular cliff, as <much> high<er> as than the building itself.
The bridge at Chepstow is very narrow, (belonging to the two counties) and the flooring is composed of oak
planks only on which both hoofs and wheels batter along in a singular manner. The
planks are not fastened otherwise than at each end by an upright peg, on which, in
case of high tides, they have room to lift up ten or twelve inches without loosing
their places.
(Thursday, left Chepstow at twelve, for Ragland and Abergany)
About noon left Chepstow, and the Wye and proceeded on to Ragland, where there is another immense castle, in some respects in better preservation than
that we had left; but it appears <has not> so commanding a situation, and appears more like a Barronial residence
than an impregnable fortress. Here is the largest growth of Ivy I have ever seen.
The whole compass of the Walls are nearly compleat. But I cannot possibly enter into
particulars in a flying journal like this. We spent two hours amongst the ruins; and
in a kind of cellaring, the archd way leading to which has partly fallen in, a country
woman who offerd her services and information, informd us that, when a light is carried
in, it is soon extinguish'd, and that they say it is because of damps; but for her
part she was inclined to believe with many of her neighbours, that the devil was there.
In this building a gigantic stem of Ivy has pushed awry the fine fluted work of the
kitchen window, and seems to set iron and stone at defiance. The largest elm I have
ever seen growing, is found in the yard or grounds of the castle. ——
We drove on for Abergavenny, where we arrived about 9 at night, having the 'Sugarloaf' Mountain,' 'The Skirrid-Vawr,' and 'Blorench'
catching the rays of the setting sun, as we came towards them. It was a noble sight!
(Abergavenny, <arrived at> 9 at night)
(Friday, 21st)
I am now writing in my bedroom at Abergany before breakfast, with the sugarloaf Mountain in view of my window, and before night we shall be on his brow. ———
I have now discover'd that the hill I saw from my window is not the Sugar loaf, but one of much inferior size. With ten in company, and two <three> servants, it requir'd some little order and contrivance to get us all up
so rugged a way, and to such a distance. We found that as sociables and common carriages
could not pass the narrow, stony, and precipitate lanes that lead up to the high ground,
the best way would be to hire a carriage on purpose, that would carry half our party.
We learn'd that a man in the neighbourhood was in the habbit of carrying strangers
to the top of the Sugar loaf, and the hills in the neighbourhood <the Skirid, and Blorench, &c.> and that his conveyance was a common open cart, fitted up with occasional seats
for the purpose, and drawn by three little scrambling poneys. The driver and owner
is a red-fac'd little fellow named powel, who lives on his own small property, and
is perhaps, one of those we might call yeomen, or what in the north are termd, statesmen.
In this cart were stowed six of us, the rest rode single horses, chiefly fitted with
side saddles for the accommodation of the ladies, who occasionally
relieved each other. The cart was abundantly stored with provisions, wine, Bottled
ale, and fruit, and every thing that could render the expidition agreeable and joyous.
In this style, the whole cavalcade left the Angel Inn at Abergany, and excited a great deal of mirth. The roads up the mountain are such as nothing
could have passed but a cart. Brambles, honeysuckles, and hazelnuts, rap'd us on the
head as we jolted up the courses of the winter's torrents, for every lane is a water-course. Blorench seem'd to rise in greater sublimity as we ascended the lower hills, or base of the Sugar loaf. 'Skirid Vawr' was on our right, but the day was hazy, and the prospect not so extensive as it
sometimes is. We reach'd the top of the woody part of this high ground, and then had
a fairer view of the peak, or summit of the Sugar Loaf 'Pen y Vale,' which I understand to mean the 'head of the vale' and which sombody has since baptized
by the more melting name of the 'Sugar-loaf.' I here took to my feet and steerd directly for the summit, while most of the party
went slowly round with the cart: But young purnell Cooper rode his father's horse, amidst the rocks and fragments allmost to the summit, where the poor animal
trembled and neigh'd for his companions. I gained the brow by regular and temperate
exertion, for I had learned a lesson from Symmons' Yat, gathering whimburys or winberrys in my way and resting on the grotesque and immense
fragments of Rocks, which appear to have rolled down from the top; which is compos'd
of allmost entire rock, and is not a sharp, but a long narrow ridge, of about one
hundred yards wide.
(22)
I think, from recollection, that it is not so much [Bloomfield's note]. Bloomfield
refers to William Coxe, An Historical Tour in Monmouthshire: Illustrated with views
by Sir R. C. Hoare, Bart. A New Map of the County, and other Engravings (London, 1801).
It was not possible to drive the cart to the
top, so while all the party climb'd to the eminence, the driver took a circuit, and
the servants relieved each other in the necessary duty of holding the horses, and
enjoy'd the scene by turns. —— We all sat on the soft green, or rather brown heath
or Ling; and from a spring just below the rocky summit had some excellent water. From
this sublime eminence the eye ranges over others still higher, and the <blue mists
hanging over the horizon, gave to the> long line of intersecting mountains the appearance
of a sea of hills. We had left beauty behind, here was nothing but sublimity! and
I think that mirth would be the last feeling likely to be excited in such a situation.
The air was remarkably fresh and invigorating; some few drops of rain fell, which
were most likely not known in the country below. We left the summit with regret. At
a considerable way from the more rocky part of the hill, in our descent, a cloth was
spread on the moss beside a rivulet, the horses tied to a thorn, and the cold collation <repast> enjoy'd with a mutual thankfulness, that is seldom found in a hall amidst
the clattering of knives and plates. Again <we mounted> the Welsh sociable, and descended
by another road, though as to declivity not a whit better than the other. We at length
reachd the turnpike road to Abergany, and returnd to the Inn after an excursion that having been long promised and expected,
could hardly have been despensed with, and which from the universal gratification
it gave, appears now it is over, to have been a principal ingredient in dish of our
pleasures.
(At Abergavenny, Saturday 22d)
(Abergany. 22)
This morning we strolled round the remains of Abergany Castle, It is very much gone to decay, but from the eminence where once stood the keep,
the hill called 'Blorench' on the other side the river Usk, and the 'Pen vale Hills,' which we had ascended the preceding day, presented themselves in a new and magnificent
point of view. The morning was inclined to be stormy, and the point of the Sugar-loaf, and great part of his sides could not be seen. The clouds hung round him, and rolld
in dark volumes about his stony girdle. We waited untill the sun acquired more power,
and saw his head emerge with all the majesty of a monarch.
(left Abergany at eleven)
This day's journey was to take us to Brecon, by way of Crickhowel; At the latter place refreshd by the way. here likewise are <seen> some remains of
a castle, and likewise the ruins of an old mansion, once belonging to the Earles Earls of Pembroke. The people partake strongly of the welsh character, and many of
them cannot speak english.— Three miles further on, turnd out of the high road to
see the remains of Tre-tower Castle, which stands rather singularly in a deep valley. Here an upright woman, a hundred
years old, askd charity, and said her name was 'Jane Edwards.'
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the placid silver brow, Know'st not the day, though thou hast seenA hundred springs
of cheerful green, A hundred winters' snows increase 5That brook, the emblem of thy
peace. Most venerable dame! and shall The plund'rer, in his gorgeous hall,His fame,
with Moloch-frown prefer, And scorn thy harmless character, 10Who scarcely hear'st
of his renown, And never sack'd or burnt a town? But should he crave, with coward
cries,To be Jane Edwards when he dies, Thou'lt be the CONQUEROR, old lass, 15So take
thy alms, and le…
An old shoe-maker answered in Welsh a great many inquiries, through an interpreter,
his son, who could speak English, but roughly. From hence to
Brecon was a most enchanting ride. Crickhowel mountain, and several others were coverd with clouds that travel'd along on their
summits, and these clouds illuminated by the declining sun! and nearer to Brecon, the grotesque and abrupt cluster of points, called the 'Vann' were still more enveloped and in clouds of the most terrific and dark hue. Reach'd
the Golden Lion at Brecon, at 9.—
(Brecon at Nine. 22d)
Mr. Morgan, the Recorder of Brecon, being related to father's of our party, we sup'd there, and next day
(Sunday 23)
Attended service at church, and heard some excellent voices in the organ lofft, full
of simple pathos and feeling. The service is performed in Welsh at three in the afternoon
for the accommodation of those who do not speak english. And another kind of accomodation is afforded the young men of the country, by the recruiting Sergeants; they expose
their bills of invitation, with their offer of eleven guineas Bounty, in english and
in welsh, side by side! Who would loose a soldier by neglecting to let him know that
you want him.? Between the church and Dinner hour Mr Floyd Baker and self on horseback, visited an old British intrenchment, so deemd (I believe) by the late Mr. King,
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on Ancient Castles, Including Remarks on the … Progress of Architecture … in Great
Britain, and on the … Change in … Laws and Customs, 4 vols (London, 1799-1806).
the antiquarian, it consists of a triple bank round the brow of a hill—And not more
than three miles from Brecon, and for the on the same
side of the town, at a Farm now termed 'the Gaer'
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in another hand].
are the remains of a Roman Wall, <still> so perfect as not to have wholly lost the
outer, or facing stones. This appears to have been a Roman station, of some importance.
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70, and brought with him the second legion of Augustus, call'd 'victrix'. He was succeeded
by Agricola. / Jones's His. Brecknock [MS note]. The note refers to Theophilus Jones,
A History of the County of Brecknock, 2 vols (Brecon, 1805-09).
Mr. Price, a very civil and intelligent farmer on the spot, gave us every information
in his power, and seem'd to enjoy it. A paved Roman road crosses his orchard, only
cover'd by grass. A small lamp, found on the premises, is in possession of Mrs. Price.
And several very perfect Roman Bricks, are turn'd up by the plough, all stamp'd while
the clay was wet, as the work of the second Legion of Augustus, as I have endeavour'd
to show in the scetch.
In the wild, bushy lane, leading down to 'the Gaer' stands a stone (perhaps 5 foot high, and 3 wide, by 6in thick,) calld 'Marn Morinion'
or 'the Maiden's Stone.' It has had 3 lines of inscription, now so effaced, that Mr B. could only make out a few words, but we learn'd that the whole is decipher'd, and
is in the possession of a gentleman at Brecon. In front are two figures, once rais'd
from the surface, but now batter'd away nearly to a flat. That on the right, (looking
at the drawing) appears to have been a Roman soldier with the dress like a Highland
philibeg, or petticoat. the other figure I think was a female, but the position of
their arms is not to be made out; and though the figures in my sketch
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“Gathering the Jewels”
: 'The Maiden Stone or Maen y Morwynion, a large carved stone found at Brecon Gaer
Roman fort near Brecon, and now in Brecknock Museum and Art Gallery. The badly weathered
carving represents a Roman citizen and his wife'. Bloomfield's sketch was engraved
and published in The Antiquarian & Topographical Cabinet (1809).
appear so very imperfect, I doubt they are too perfect rather, to be strictly just
to the original.
A spot close
in the neighbourhood of Brecon, calld the 'Priory Groves,' the property of Lord Camden, forms a beautiful walk for
the town's people, a stream makes its way over a number of rocky obstructions in a
deep valley below, keeping a continual murmur, though allmost entirely hid by the
trees.
(Left Brecon Monday morning, 24th)
This day's journey was to take us to Hereford. we could not attempt to climb 'the Vann' in the neighbourhood, esteem'd the highest in South Wales; and which, during our
Sunday's ride and this morning were continually cap'd by clouds. (N.B. Price, the
farmer, said he could almost to a certainty foretel rain, by the appearance of the
clouds on the Vann.) Mr and Mrs Morgan in their own chariot accompanied us as far
as Hay; in the way to which town stands the remains of Bronyliss Castle, one tower of which is nearly perfect, except the floors. The walls of this tower
are about eleven feet thick. The farmer on the spot, makes use of it for a hay loft;
and he has destroy'd great part of the other walls and ruins to have the materials
to fence his yard and build a stable! This form'd a pleasing subject for the pencil,
and my companions enjoyd it, During which, I was thinking of the River Wye, and filling
my pockets with Nuts. The Severn, and the Wye, both take their rise from the mountain of Plenlimon. Hay, where we dined, stands on the Wye, and we felt a kind of unaccountable affection
for the stream that had in its lower progress given us so much pleasure. Here is likewise
fine remains of a castle; and in the churchyard we observed a new grave strew'd with flowers! It is a Welsh custom, and they are
often not strewn, but planted on the grave; and carefully weeded by the surviving friends of the deceased. In this
case we only observed only <one> sprig of sweet-briar growing. It was a beautiful, sad, and impressive sight; which will make me detest the unhallow'd
mob of bones in Bunhill fields more than I ever did before. let me be buried any where but in a croud!
Here we parted with our Brecon friends, and proceeded onwards, passing on the steep bank of the Wye the poor remains
of Clifford Castle, said to be the birthplace of Fair Rosamond.
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by his Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. Legends also suggest Henry built for her a lodge
at Woodstock with a labyrinth-garden as her bower. She is the subject of the Ballad
of Fair Rosamund by Thomas Delaney and the Complaint of Rosamund by Samuel Daniel.
Cross'd the Wye a few miles further on, and then had it on our right, during an uninterrupted
ride to Hereford.
(At Hereford, Monday night)
During the whole ride the harvest was in all its glory. Orchards abound on each side
of the road and overhang the highway as plentifully as elms do in Suffolk; and the
greatest crop is hanging on the trees that has been known for many years.
Hereford is a clean lively city. We lodged at the New Inn, and in the same house was residing
the young Roscius, Wm Betty.
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at Covent Garden during the 1804 and 1806 seasons, playing adult roles, including
Romeo and Hamlet, Norval in John Home's Douglas, and Rollo in Pizarro, leading him
to be compared to the celebrated Roman comic actor Quintus Roscius Gallus.
He play'd Achmet
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Betty appeared in the play first in 1804.
on the evening of our arrival, but I declined a squeeze on so hot an evening. I saw
him in the Inn yard in the morning; a well-made youth of about 5ft 6in — a good, but
surely not by any means an expressive countenance. I beg his pardon if I am wrong.
He mounted his horse with a kind of toldarol gaiety, and gallop'd out of the yard.
——— The tower of the cathedral
has a strange, squaddy appearance, being exceedingly large, with turrets too small, and the height not according
well with the proportion of the building.
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Hereford Cathedral nearly destroyed by the fall of its tower, September the 10th,
1786 [Bloomfield's note, referring to the events of Easter Monday, 1786, when the
west tower fell, ruining the west front and parts of the nave. James Wyatt (1746-1813)
was called in to plan restoration, resulting in the supporting of arches by new columns].
The interior is elegant, and contains many very old monuments. But amongst the oddest
particulars of this church is the circumstance of its having two of the immense arches
under the tower in the interior of the church, supported by an upright pillar dividing at the top, so as to destroy the beauty of the arch,
and make a singular appearance. These pillars are comparatively modern, and surely
there must have been some other cause, not now apparent, to induce any architect to
attempt so paradoxical a fancy, as to support an arch from beneath.
(Left Hereford at 11. on Tuesday)
This day's journey was to take us from Hereford to the Malvern Hills, and Mr F. B. having to call on his friend, Mr. Hopton, of Canfrone, part of the company drove
on for Ledbury, where we proposed meeting there again. Mr. Hopton has a house of no common sort.
it is very large, and fitted up in the first style of elegance, not fantastically
modern. Here we dined; and in the true spirit of old english hospitality, the venerable
old squire asked if we liked 'good beer'? and orderd the servant to bring a bottle
of 'seventy-seven.' I found that this beer was three years old, when it was, at the
above date, put into bottles, and was consequently brew'd when I was 8 years old.
———
We joind our party at Ledbury, and proceeded on for Malvern Hills. Evening came on apace, and darkness overtook us as we cross'd the Hills, and turned
to the left towards Malvern Wells. The road is but narrow, [f. 57] and runs on the side of the Hills, giving us a starlight view of <the> descent below
us, and of the emminence, not to say Mountain, above. We reached the Well House, but
they were, with all their appendages, full of company; no beds could be had. Drove
down to the town of Great Malvern, and received the same answer there! not even a
sitting-room could be had for refreshment! except an offer, (which was eventually
declined), and which we learned was made by Sir Robert Staples, of the use of his
rooms for an hour. It was eight miles further to Worcester, and the horses tired,
and <now> very dark. Every effort was made to procure accomodations, which at last
was accomplishd, by procuring beds at private houses, &c. —This caused more mirth
than disappointment; for every one set out at first with a determination to be pleased. I lodged at a shop which was the post office;
and being debarred from the accomodating articles that wait upon my beard, I learnd
that I could be shaved by a man in the house, and so it proved, for the post office
man was the shaver! though I took him from weighing tea and cheese. He was a surly
old fellow, a little on one side, and so was his house; for the flooring of my bedroom
was more out of level than I ever slep'd on before. It was solid oak, and I dare say
perfectly sound; though a large fracture, and there being no plaster below it, shew'd
me the ostlers and maids at early breakfast below me. One of the ostlers snuffled
a good deal in his speech; the other was a wit; and the maids (if they were such)
were a tolerable match for them. ——This morning, having no breakfast-room, had a table
set in a garden, and the sun shining bright upon the craggy hills just above us, made
it a beautiful and singular scene. We took two
saddle-horses for the Ladies, and all together began to ascend the highest peak of
Old Malvern. It was laborious work! This majestic view has been many hundred times described
better than I can do it here. I will however remark, that the Malvern Hills are a range that rise in comparatively a flat country and therefore command an extraordinary
view. Amongst the round of objects which we deliberately observed, are, on the Welsh
side, and turning round to the right; the Sugar Loaf; the Skirit; the Black Mountains; the City of Hereford; Clay Hills, and the Wreaken in Shropshire; Winbury Hills—The Lickey— Hagley park— Worcester City (8 miles)—Malvern Abbey just below—the whole valey of Stratford on
Avon, very distant—Bredon Hill— The long heights of Cotswold—Upton Bridge— <down towards the> Severn's mouth, and allmost to the ocean! A ditch along the ridge
of the hills, marks the boundary between the counties of Gloucester and Hereford. I think if I lived on the spot I should climb the hills about twice a week for six
months, and then be able to give a tolerable account of the scene. Delightful Malvern!! I have said above that we all climbed the hill; but Mrs F B. though she had reached the summit of 'Pen y Vale' in a state (and far advanced) that 'all women would wish to be who love their lords,'
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love their lords'.
was, I doubt, deterred from this attempt; for I am sure her spirit would never fail if her reason approved. The old abby church at Malvern, reminds one of a man Lost xx in a deep decline, and yet retaining about him all that can attest his former strength
and vigour. The woman who exhibited what was there to be seen was much better informd
than many in a similar situation and gave the most unaffected detail I have ever heard.
The whole fabric is uncommonly damp and discoloured; and unless something is done
to arrest the scythe of Time, the roof will soon be xxxx on the floor.
(Left Malvern for Tewkesbury Wednesday at one)
Leaving Malvern Hills, no other striking scenes which any presented themselves except works of art, which, though I affect not to disregard,
I am not so much taken with, or able or willing to describe. From the summit of Malvern, we had observed Upton Bridge in the valley, and now pass'd it in the road to Tewkesbury.
On entering the latter place, I was uncommonly surprised, and delighted with the noble
appearance of the streets. A width and length, and clearness, and great respectability
that I had not been at all apprised of. Bury St. Ed. I had always esteem'd a fine clean town, but the street by which we entered Tewkesby is at least twice, and at places thrice as wide as the Abby-gate Stt, and 4 times
its length, a more respectable street than Holboun. The Stratford Avon over which we pass'd, falls into the Severn at Tewkesbury. The Abby Church has of late years been beautified
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are the following entries—'A. D. 1378, paid for the "Players Geers" six sheep-skins
for Christ's garments.' And in an inventory recorded in the same book, 1585, are these
words—'and order eight heads of hair for the Apostles, and ten beards, and a face
or visor, for the DEVIL.' Monthly Mirror, [October] 1807 [269] [Bloomfield's note].
and repaired by Mr Wyatt;
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work at Hereford and Salisbury cathedrals as well as at Tewkesbury.
and as to pulpit and seats is the neatest that can be imagined. Prince Edward, son
of Edward ye 4th Henry the Sixth, said to be murder'd by Richard after the battle
of Tewkesby, lies here in the centre of the church, with a small brass inscription. This evening
was spent with a peculiar pleasure, which we had been promised from our first setting
out. Mr. R. B. Cooper had with him his MS poem (unfinishd), <in> which he describes his neighbour 'Stinchcomb Hill'— He read it with very good effect, and it spoke most amply for its subject and its
author. I hope some day to see it finish'd. Here likewise took place a [f. 58v] general exhibition and comparison of notes and sketches and much good will, and <with> allowances for the bad, and enjoyment of the good.
(Left Tewkesbury Thursday morning, for Gloucester, and home)
It was agreed to proceed this last day's journey by way of Cheltenham, and thence to Gloucester to dinner. Cheltenham appears to be an increasing town, full of dashing shops, and full of what is often
called Life, (i.e.) high life. I am not qualified to judge of high life, and may be
laughed at for my strictures, but as I never feel happy in Bond street, I see no reason that I should here. The visitors seem distrest for somthing to do,
and I know <of> no calamity equal to it. I proposed calling on Doctor Jenner who join'd our party in the walks, and sent a Cheltenham gift for my wife, which shall remain in my family with his former tokens between us
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Tidings; or, News from the Farm that Bloomfield, at Jenner's instigation, published
in 1804. They included a silver inkstand.
—The prince was at Cheltenham, and though the votaries of fashion follow him as gnats
do a horse, to sting him, or to be lashd to death, I Found all moralists, and all
thinkers, through the whole xxxxx <town> speak of him with a shake of the head, and a humbled, and negative kind of
exultation—I hope the feeling will last as long as truth and history. Spent about
3 hours at Cheltenham, and drove on for Gloucester, where we dined at three at the King's Head. The Cathedrial
is beauty itself. Westminster is black and venerable, Canterbury is gigantic, and
mix'd in its beauties, but this, and particularly the Tower, is a noble and lovely
object. We look at it as we would at a beautiful woman, without cessation, and without
tiring. Gloucester Cathedrial is the burial place of Robert of Normandy, and of Edward
ye Second, murder'd at Berkeley.— The city is fine, and is a busy scene, but I was more struck with Tewkesbury. From
Gloucester we proceeded for home, which we reached about nine at night;
'Nor stop'd, till where we first got upWe did again get down.'—
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William Cowper, 'The Diverting History of John Gilpin; Showing how he Went Farther
than he Intended, and Came Safe Home Again' (1782), stanza 62.
Dursley and Uley as I have said already are singularly beautiful as to situation, yet such is the
force of a set of new Ideas, that the most facitious individuals of the party <now>
thought their beauties tame, because they were compared with what we had seen. I have
imbibed the highest degree of affection for all the individuals of the party, from
the most natural cause in the world—because they all seem'd glad to give me pleasure—
and I shall forget them all—when my grave is strewn with Flowers.
N. B. Before I left the country, visited Berkeley Castle, and gained much comparative information from here observing a Castle still habitable
and perfect, with all the characteristics of a Castle which I had so repeatedly seen
in a state of dilapidation. The room where Edward was murderd has a horrid kind of
appearance.
I returnd to London by way of Oxford, and spent a day there for fear I should never
have such another chance. But to tell here of Oxford sights, great and highly interesting as they are, will never do. I leave
the task to hands more methodical and more able
