VOYAGE FROM BRISTOL TO SWANSEA—SWANSEA CASTLE—MANUFACTORIES—WELCH BATHING—OSTERMOUTH, PENRICE, AND PENNARTH CASTLES—SEAT OF MR. TALBOT—ARTHUR’S STONE, A LARGE CROMLECH.
In company with a brother artist, I entered Bristol with an intention of commencing my Cambrian tour in the neighbourhood of Chepstow; but an unthought-of attraction induced us to relinquish this project.
Returning from a ramble through the town, by the quay, we were agreeably amused with a fleet of vessels that was about to quit the river with the ebbing tide; some of them were already in full sail floating down the stream, and others getting under weigh. The spirited exertions of the seamen, and the anxious movements of numerous spectators, devoting their attention to friends or freight, gave animation to the scene, which was rendered particularly cheerful by the delightful state of the morning. On a sudden we were saluted with a duet of French-horns from a small sloop in the river; a very indifferent performance to be sure, yet it was pleasing. This sloop was bound to Swansea; and we learned that the wind was so directly favourable, that the voyage would in all probability be completed the same afternoon. We were now strongly disposed for an aquatic excursion; nor did the laughing broad faces of about a dozen Welch girls, passengers, alarm us from our purpose: so by an exertion we collected our portmanteaus and some refreshments in due time, and engaged in the voyage.
Leaving Bristol, and its romantic but ruined suburb Clifton, we entered upon the remarkable scenery of St. Vincent’s Rocks. A bolder pass than is here formed I scarcely remember to have seen, even in the most mountainous parts of Great Britain: on one side, a huge rock rises in naked majesty perpendicularly from the river, to the height of some hundred feet; the immense surface is tinted with the various hues of grey, red, and yellow, and diversified by a few patches of shrubs, moss, and creeping lichens. A range of rocks equal in magnitude, but of less precipitous ascent, clothed with dark wild forest trees and underwood, forms the opposite boundary of the river; attempering the menacing aspect of impendent cliffs, with the softer features of sylvan hills.
The grandeur of the river’s banks diminishes until near the Avon’s junction with the Severn; when the commanding height of Kingsweston-hill, adorned with the groves, lawns, and plantations of Lord Clifford’s park, rises conspicuously eminent, and engages a parting interest. We soon entered the Severn, here an expansive estuary, and so far a noble object; but deriving little importance from its shores, which, except in the neighbourhood of Aust, are a mere undulation of corn-fields and pastures. The display of cultivation, though gratifying, is certainly inferior in picturesque merit to the grand features of cliffs and mountains which distinguish the shores of Pembrokeshire, and the western coast of Wales.For some time we were well entertained with our voyage; when satisfied with external objects, we found amusement in the cooped-up circle of our companions, and entered upon a general meal, without the assistance of knives or plates, with much good humour: nor was there a lack of wit, if we might judge from the continued bursts of laughter that sallied on the occasion. But the scene presently changed: the wind, at first so favourable, shifted to the opposite point, increasing from a pleasant breeze to a fresh gale; the sun no longer played on the surface of the water; the sky became overcast; and “the waves curled darkly against the vessel.” From the seamen, with looks of disappointment, we learned, that the prospect of a short voyage was at an end; and that, if the wind continued as it was, we might be kept at sea for several days: the badness of the weather increased towards evening, when a deluging rain came down, and continued the whole night. This calamity was further aggravated by a noisy old woman on board, who grated our ears with a horrible scream whenever a wave broke over the vessel, or a flash of lightning illuminated the scenery of the storm; filling up the intervals with the cheering narrative of ships that were lost in the very track of our voyage. It was to no purpose that we endeavoured to joke away her fears, or to make them less eloquent; but Time, that great resolver of difficulties, transferring the disorder of her imagination to her stomach, quieted her alarm. At length the increasing rain forced every one for shelter towards the cabin: this was a hole about two yards by one and a half; not quite the latter dimension in height, and filthy to a degree that I shall not attempt to describe: into this place as many were squeezed as it could possibly contain.
Among our female companions were two genteel young Welch-women of considerable personal attractions, whose vivacity and good-nature had essentially contributed to the entertainment of the day: one of these was peculiarly bewitching; her’s was
—the faultless form
Shap’d by the hand of harmony; the cheek
Where the live crimson, through the native white
Soft-shooting, o’er, the face diffuses bloom,
And ev’ry nameless grace; the parted lip,
Like the red rose-bud moist with morning dew,
Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet,
The neck slight-shaded, and the swelling breast;
The look resistless, piercing to the soul.
These damsels preferring the certainty of a wetting upon deck to the chance of suffocation in the cabin, we made it our business to defend them as much as possible from “the pelting of the pitiless storm.” Our travelling coats were fashionably large; so that each of us was able completely to shelter one, without exposing ourselves; a bottle of brandy too, that we had fortunately provided, helped to counteract the inclemency of the weather, and we were for some time thoroughly comfortable. The rain at length, penetrating our coverings, obliged us to seek a fresh resource; but to discover one was no easy matter; for the cabin had not a chink unoccupied, and there was not a dry sail on board to make use of. In this predicament it fortunately occurred to one of the ladies, that before the hatchway was closed she observed sufficient room in the hold for three or four persons who were not very bulky to lie down: to this place we gained admittance; and, although the angles of chests and packages formed a very inappropriate couch for the tender limbs of our friends, yet the retreat proved highly gratifying; and, after a short time spent in pleasing conversation, we enjoyed a refreshing sleep.—Unhallowed thoughts, be silent! voluptuous imaginations, conjure not up, from this pressure of circumstances, motives or actions that are unholy! It is true, the girls had charms that might warm an anchorite, and were filled with the glowing sensations of youthful passion; yet they were virtuous; nor had the tourists, although encountering temptation, a wish to endanger the possessors of qualities so lovely for a transitory enjoyment.
When we issued from our burrow the next morning, the rain continued; but the wind had abated, and become more favourable. The other passengers remained in the cabin, and nothing can be imagined more distressing than their situation. No less than ten women had squeezed themselves into the hole, where they lay all of a heap, like fish in a basket. The heat and confinement had rendered the sickness general: I shall forbear to describe the evidence of its effects; but briefly remark, that, overcome by pain and fatigue, they appeared all in a sound sleep, half released from their clothes, and with such an intermixture of heads, bodies, and limbs, that it required some ingenuity to trace the relation of the several parts. The two old French-horn players were lying at the door soaking in the rain, but also asleep. From such a scene we gladly withdrew, and in a few hours found ourselves at the entrance of Swansea Bay, finely encircled with high varied hills; on our left were the two insulated rocks called the Mumbles, at a small distance from the main land, where the whitened town of Ostermouth [21] appeared issuing from the water, beneath a lofty dark hill. At the bottom of the bay, the superior extent of Swansea lined the shore, backed by an atmosphere of cloudy vapours produced from the numerous furnaces in its neighbourhood. At length I trod on Cambrian ground, and paid my half crown, with a willing engagement to forfeit a hundred times the sum, if ever I should be again caught on board of a Swansea Hoy. [22]
Swansea is a tolerably neat town, although irregularly built. It has long been a winter residence of the neighbouring gentry, and a favourite resort in summer for bathing; but its increasing opulence arises principally from the prosperity of its manufactures and commerce.
In company with Major Jones, a worthy magistrate of the town, to whose polite attention I stand indebted for much local information, I obtained a complete survey of Swansea Castle, (situated in the middle of the town), which, although much contracted from its former grand dimensions, is still of considerable extent. The principal feature of the building is, a massive quadrangular tower, remarkable for a range of light circular arches, encircling the top, and supporting a parapet, which forms a connexion with turrets at each angle. This parapet affords a pleasing bird’s-eye view of the town and surrounding country. The tenantable parts of the castle comprise the town-hall; a poor-house; a jail; a new market-house; numerous store-cellars; a blacksmith’s and other shops and habitations; a Roman Catholic chapel; and a pigeon-house. The Gothic structure has been so far metamorphosed in its application to these purposes, that it is almost impossible to trace the original plan of the building; but the large apartment used for Romish worship has been either the baronial hall or the chapel: I think, the former.
During my stay in Swansea, an intoxicated man fell asleep on the parapet of the castle, and, rolling off, fell to the ground at the depth of near 80 feet. The poor fellow was a servant in the castle: and, missing his room in winding up the turreted stair-case, unconsciously extended his journey to the summit of the castle. Nothing broke his fall (unless the roof of a low shed reared against the wall, and which he went clearly through, may be considered as a favourable impediment), and yet, incredible as it may seem! the only effect produced on the man, was a slight broken head, and a restoration of his faculties. He bound up his head himself, made the best of his way to a public-house, took a little more ale, and then went soberly to bed. I should scarcely have believed this miraculous escape, had I not seen the broken tiles and rafters through which he fell, and heard the attestations of numerous witnesses of the accident.
Swansea Castle was built A.D. 1113, by Henry Beaumont, Earl of Warwick, a Norman leader who conquered Gowerland, a tract of country bounded by the Neath and Loughor rivers, from the Welch; but it was soon after besieged by Griffith ap Rhys ap Theodore, a native chief, and a great part of the out-buildings destroyed. It is now the property of the Duke of Beaufort, Lord paramount of Gower.
A large tract of country northward of Swansea is covered with coal, copper, and iron-works, the operations of which are much facilitated by a canal passing among them. The dismal gloom of the manufactories, hanging over the river Tawe, is pleasingly contrasted by the whitened walls of their appendant villages, springing from the dark sides of the hills that rise above the river. Conspicuous above the other resorts of the manufacturers is Morristown, a neat newly-created village; and on the summit of a steep hill Morristown castle, a quadrangular building, which is the habitation of upwards of thirty families; these buildings owe their origin to Mr. Morris, a gentleman, who, in partnership with Mr. Lockwood, conducts one of the leading works. The introduction of Major Jones obtained me a view of Messrs. Freeman’s copper manufactory: we took care to be there at noon, when the furnaces are tapped and all the interesting processes gone through. The effect in passing through these dismal buildings, contrasted by the vivid glare of the furnaces, and the liquid fire of the pouring metal, is to a stranger very striking. I was much surprized at the quantity of condensed sulphureous vapour that yellowed the roof of the building. Sulphur often forms the greatest bulk of the ore; yet no means are employed to collect the vapour, which might easily be managed, and could not fail of turning to a source of profit: at the same time, it would save the health of the workmen, and spare the vegetation, which appears stinted for a considerable distance by the noxious effluvia.
We left these sulphureous chambers to enjoy a purer air on the sea-shore, where another curiosity awaited us. As we were strolling on the sands, about a mile above the town, we remarked a group of figures, in birth-day attire, gamboling in the water: not suspecting that they were women, we passed carelessly on; but how great was our surprize, on approaching them, to find that the fact did not admit of a doubt. We had not paused a minute, before they all came running toward us, with a menacing tone and countenance, that would seem to order us away. Though we did not understand their British sentences, we obeyed, and very hastily too, on finding a volley of stones rattling about our ears. This hostile demonstration, we afterwards found, arose from a suspicion that we were going to remove their clothes, a piece of waggery often practised by the visitants of Swansea, to enjoy their running nudiores ovo. The girls knew that we were not their countrymen, or we should have passed unconcerned; unless, indeed, acquaintances, who would have made their usual salutation, and perhaps joined in the party’s amusement. In our subsequent rambles on the beach these liberal exhibitions of Cambrian beauty afforded us many pleasing studies of unsophisticated nature:
“Graceful, cleanly, smooth and round;
All in Venus’ girdle bound.”
From Swansea we made an excursion across the sands to Ostermouth castle, about four miles distant, situated on an eminence near the coast. The principal walls of this ruin are little injured by time, and most of the apartments may be readily distinguished; the general figure is polygonal, and the ramparts are conspicuously lofty, but unflanked by towers, except at the entrance: a profusion of ivy overspreading the ruin rather conceals than adorns it. This building is supposed to have been erected by the Norman conqueror of Gowerland, and has almost ever since remained the property of that Lordship.From some high hills behind Ostermouth, an extensive view is obtained over the peninsula of Gower, and the two noble bays of Swansea and Caermarthen, which its projection divides: the general aspect of the peninsula is wild and dreary. Not far distant, near the little bay of Oxwich, are the ruins of Pennarth castle, a fortress built soon after the Beaumonts conquered Gowerland; and on the opposite side of the bay stands the more picturesque ruin of Penrice castle; so called after the Penrice’s, a Norman family that settled there in the reign of Edward the First. This castle is comprised in an extensive domain belonging to Mr. Talbot, which occupies a great part of the peninsula; and here Mr. Talbot has erected an elegant villa, with all the appendant beauties of wood and lawn, lake, and promenade. But, unless with a view to improve the estate, one can scarcely imagine what motive could induce this gentleman to desert his former residence at Margam, possessing all the allurements of favoured nature, and situated in the midst of an agreeable neighbourhood, to force exotic elegance upon a bleak unfrequented coast, and fix his abode far from the usual haunts of society.
About three miles northward of Penrice, upon a mountain called Cum Bryn, near Llanridian, is a table-like monument, or cromlech, [29] called Arthur’s stone: it consists of a huge flat stone, supposed to weigh near twenty tons, supported upon six or seven others about five feet in height; the smaller stones are placed in a circle.—A few miles farther, near the mouth of the Loughor, is Webley castle, which was described to me as a place of considerable antique strength, and as being still entire and partially inhabited. The difficulty of access to this castle, and its out-of-the-way situation, prevented our visiting it; similar reasons also prevented our seeing a curiosity at Wormshead point, a bold promontory jutting far into the sea, and divided from the main land at high-water by the sea’s overflowing its low isthmus. Near the extremity of the point is a cleft in the ground, in which if dust or sand be thrown, it will be returned back into the air; and a person applying his ear to the crevice will hear a deep noise, like the blowing of a large pair of bellows: this effect is reasonably attributed to the concussions of the waves of the sea in the cavernous hollows of the cliff. An old author, I think Giraldus Cambrensis, speaks of a similar phenomenon in Barry island, near the coast between Cardiff and Cowbridge; but at present no such effect is produced at that place.
