EXTRACTS FROM DOROTHY WORDSWORTH'S TOUR IN THE ISLE OF MAN, 1828
Thursday, June 26th, 1828.—Called at half-past two, and breakfasted by kitchen fire. Walked to the end of gravel terrace;[66] grey calm, and warbling birds; sad at the thought of my voyage, cheered only by the end of it. Sat long at Morris's door; grey and still; coach full, and sour looks within, for I made a fifth; won my way by civility, and communicating information to a sort of gentleman fisher going to Wytheburn. English manners ungracious: he left us at Nag's Head without a bow or good wish. Morning still foggy. Wytheburn, cliffs and trees. Stayed inside till reached an inn beside Bassenthwaite; only another lady in coach, so had a good view of the many cloudy summits and swelling breastworks of Skiddaw, and was particularly struck with the amplitude of style and objects, flat Italian foreground, large fields, and luxuriant hedges,—a perfect garden of Eden, rich as ivory and pearls. Dull and barish near Cockermouth. Town surprised me with its poor aspect. Old market-house to be pulled down. Sorry I could not study the old place. Life has gone from my Father's Court.[67] View from bridge beautiful. Ruin, castle, meadows with hay-cocks.... Again cold and dreary after river goes. Dorrington very dreary, yet fine trees. Dropped Mr. Lowther's sons from school. Busy-looking fresh-coloured aunt, looks managing and well satisfied with herself, but kind to the boys; little sister very glad, and brothers in a bustle of pleasure.... Workington very dismal; beautiful approach to Whitehaven; comfortless inn, but served by a German waiter; Buckhouse's daughter; a hall, a church; the sea, the castle; dirty women, ragged children; no shoes, no stockings; fine view of cliffs and stone quarry; pretty, smokeless, blue-roofed town; castle and inn a foreign aspect. Embarked at ten. Full moon; lighthouse; summer sky; moved away; and saw nothing till a distant view of Isle of Man. Hills cut off by clouds. Beautiful approach to Douglas harbour; wind fallen. Harry met me at inn; surprised with gay shops and store-houses; walk on the gardens of the hills; decayed houses, divided gardens; luxuriant flowers and shrubs, very like a French place; an Italian lady, the owner; air very clear, though hazy in Cumberland. Very fine walk after tea on the cliff; sea calm, and as if enclosed by haze; fishes sporting near the rocks; a few sea-birds to chatter and wail, but mostly silent rocks; two very grand masses in a little bay, a pellucid rivulet of sea-water between them; the hills mostly covered with cropped gorse, a very rich dark green. This gorse cropped in winter, and preserved for cattle fodder. The moon rose large and dull, like an ill-cleaned brass plate, slowly surmounts the haze, and sends over the calm sea a faint bright pillar. In the opposite quarter Douglas harbour; illuminated boats in motion, dark masts and eloquent ropes; noises from the town ascend to the commanding airy steeps where we rested.
Saturday, 28th June.—Lovely morning; walked with Henry[68] to the nunnery; cool groves of young trees and very fine old ones. General Goulding has built a handsome house near the site of the old nunnery, on which stands a modern house (to be pulled down). The old convent bell, hung outside, is used as a house-bell; the valley very pretty, with a mill stream, and might be beautiful, if properly drained. The view of the nunnery charming from some points.
Walked on to the old church, Kirk Bradden; handsome steeple. Burial-ground beautifully shaded, and full of tombstones. Tombstone or obelisk to the memory of a son of the Duke of Athole, commander of the Manx Fencibles.
Douglas market very busy. Women often with round hats, like the Welsh; and girls without shoes and stockings, though otherwise not ill dressed. Panniers made of matted straw; country people speak more Manx than English; the sound is not hoarse nor harsh. Cliffs picturesque above Mona Castle; a waterfall (without water); the castle of very white stone from Scotland, after the style of Inveraray. How much handsomer and better suited to its site would be the native dark grey rock. The nunnery house is as it should be; and the castle, with stronger towers in the same style, would have been a noble object in the bay.... Road and flat sandy space to the sea; a beautiful sea residence for the solitary; pleasant breezes, and sky clear of haziness.
Sunday, 29th June.—A lovely bright morning; walk with H.; a fine view over the sky-blue sea; breezy on the heights. At Mr. Browne's church. Text from Isaiah, the "Shadow of a great Rock," etc., applied to our Saviour and the Christian dispensation. Marketplace and harbour cheerful, and, compared with yesterday, quiet. Gay pleasure-boats in harbour, from Liverpool and Scotland, with splendid flags. During service the noises of children and sometimes of carriages distressing. Mr. Browne a sensible and feeling, yet monotonous and weak-voiced, reader. His iron shoes clank along the aisle—the effect of this very odd. Called in the Post Office lane at the postmaster's, narrow as an Italian street, and the house low, cool, old-fashioned and cleanly. Stairs worn down with much treading, and everything reminding one of life at Penrith forty years back. A cheerful family of useful-looking, well-informed daughters; English father and Scotch mother. Crowds inquiring for letters. To Kirk Bradden, one and a half miles; arrived at second lesson. Funeral service for two children; the coffins in the church. Mr. Howard a fine-looking man and agreeable preacher. The condition of the righteous and of the ungodly after death was the subject. Groups sitting on the tombstones reminded me of the Continent. The churchyard shady and cool, a sweet resting-place. We lingered long, and walked home through the nunnery grounds. The congregation rustic, but very gay. There seems to be no room for the very poor people in either church, and in Douglas great numbers were about in the streets during service. Mr. Putman called, a gentlemanly man, faded, and delicate-looking; brought up at Dublin College for the bar, took to the stage, married a hotel lady, disapproved by her friends, gave lectures on elocution, had profits, but obliged to desist, having broken a blood-vessel; now living on a very small income at Douglas in lodgings; sighing for house-keeping, and they have bought the house we visited last night on the sands. After tea walked with Joanna on pier—a very gay and crowded scene. Saw the steam-packet depart for Liverpool. Ladies in immense hats, and as fine as millinery and their own various tastes can make them. Beauish tars; their pleasure-boats in harbour, with splendid flags; two or three worthy suitors in bright blue jackets, their badges on their breast, their hats trimmed with blue ribands. For the first time I saw the Cumberland hills; but dimly. Sea very bright; talked with old sailor and tried his spectacles. Went to the Douglas Head, very fine walk on the turf tracks among the horns gorse, bright green, studded with yellow flowers in bunches, the ladies'-bed-straw; the green sea-weed with the brown bed of the river produces a beautiful effect of colouring, and the numbers of well-dressed, or rather showily-dressed, people is astonishing, gathered together in the harbour, and sprinkled over the heights. Fine view of rocks below us on the lower road; lingered till near ten. Lovely moonlight when I went to bed; amused with Miss Fanny Buston, her conceit, her long, nose, her painted cheeks, not painted but by nature.
Tuesday, July 1st.—With Joanna[69] to the shore, and alone on the pier. Very little air even there, but refreshing; and the water of the bay clear, and green as the Rhine; close and hot in the streets; but the sun gets out when the tide comes in; a breeze, and all is refreshed.
Wednesday morning, July 2nd.—In evening walked to Port-a-shee (the harbour of peace); foggy, and hills invisible, but stream very pretty. Shaggy banks; varied trees; splendid rosebushes and honeysuckles. Returned by sands; a beautiful playfield for children. The rocks of gorgeous colours—orange, brown, vivid green, in form resembling models of the Alps. The foggy air not oppressive.
Thursday, July 3rd.—A fine morning, but still misty on hills. On Douglas heights, the sea-rocks tremendous; wind high; a waterfowl sporting on the roughest part of the sea; flocks of jackdaws, very small; a few gulls; two men reclined at the top of a precipice with their dogs; small boats tossing in the eddy, and a pleasure-boat out with ladies; misery it would have been for me; guns fired from the ship, a fine echo in the harbour; saw the flash long before the report. Sir Wm. Hilary saved a boy's life to-day in the harbour. He raised a regiment for Government, and chose his own reward—a Baronetcy!
Friday, 4th July.—Walked with Henry to the Harbour of Peace, and up the valley; very pretty overarched bridge; neat houses, and hanging gardens, and blooming fences—the same that are so ugly seen from a distance: the wind sweeping those fences, they glance and intermingle colours as bright as gems.
Saturday.—Very bright morning. Went to the Duke's gardens, which are beautiful. I thought of Italian villas, and Italian bays, looking down on a long green lawn adorned with flower-beds, such as ours, at one end; a perfect level, with grand walks at the ends, woods rising from it up the steeps; and the dashing sea, boats, and ships, and ladies struggling with the wind; veils and gay shawls and waving flounces. The gardens beautifully managed,—wild, yet neat enough for plentiful produce; shrubbery, forest trees, vegetables, flowers, and hot-houses, all connected, yet divided by the form of the ground. Nature and art hand in hand, tall shrubs, and Spanish chestnut in great luxuriance. Lord Fitzallan's children keeping their mother's birthday in the strawberry beds. Loveliest of evenings. Isle perfectly clear, but no Cumberland; the sea alive with all colours, the eastern sky as bright as the west after sunset.
Monday, 7th July.—Departed for Castletown. Nothing very interesting except peeps of the sea. Well peopled and cultivated, yet generally naked. Earth hedges, yet thriving trees in white rows; descent of a little glen or large cliff very pleasing, with its small tribute to the ocean. One cottage, and a corn enclosure, wild-thyme, sedum, etc.; brilliant and dark-green gorse; the bay lovely on this sweet morning; narrow flowery lanes, wild sea-view, low peninsula of Long Ness, large round fort and ruined church: bay and port, cold, mean, comfortless; low walk at Castletown, drawbridge, river and castle, handsome strong fortress, soldiers pacing sentinel, officers and music, groups of women in white caps listening, very like a town in French Flanders, etc. etc. Civility, large rooms, no neatness.
Tuesday, 8th July.—Rose before six. Pleasant walk to Port Mary Kirk, along the bay before breakfast; well cultivated, very populous, but wanting trees; outlines of hills pleasing. Port Mary, harbour for Manx fleet; pretty green banks near the port, neat huts under those rocks, with flower-garden, fishing-nets, and sheep, really beautiful; a wild walk and beautiful descent to Port Erin; a fleet of nearly forty sails and nets in the circular rocky harbour, white houses at different heights on the bank. Then across the country past Castle Rushen—a white church, and standing low; cheerful country, a few good houses, but seldom pretty in architecture; children coming from school, schools very frequent: now we drag up the hill, an equal ascent; turf, and not bad road, but a weary way.
But I ought to have before described our passage from Port Mary to Port Erin, over Spanish Head, to view the Calf, a high island, forty acres, partly cultivated, and peopled with rabbits—rent paid therewith; a stormy passage to the Calf, a boat hurrying through with tide, another small isle adjoining, very wild; I thought of the passage between Loch Awe and Loch Etive. To return to the mountain ascent from Castle Rushen: peat stacks all over, and a few warm snow huts; thatches secured by straw ropes, and the walls (in which was generally buried one window) cushioned all over with thyme in full blow, low sedum, and various other flowers. Called on Henry's friend beside the mountain gate; her house blinding with smoke. I sate in the doorway. She was affectionately glad to see Henry, shook hands and blessed us at parting—"God be with you, and prosper you on your journey!" Descend: more cottages, like waggon roofs of straw, chance-directed pipes of chimneys and flowery walls, not a shoe or a stocking to be seen. Dolby Glen, beautiful stream, and stone cottages, and gardens hedged with flowery elder, and mallows as beautiful as geraniums in a greenhouse.
Wednesday, 9th, Peele.—Morning bright, and all the town busy. Yesterday the first of the herring fishing, and black baskets laden with silvery herrings were hauled through the town, herrings in the hand on sticks, and huge black fish dragged through the dust. Sick at the sight, ferried across the harbour to the Island Castle, very grand and very wild, with cathedral, tower, and extensive ruins, and tombstones of recent date: several of shipwrecked men. Our guide showed us the place where, as Sir Walter Scott tells us, Captain Edward Christian was confined, and another dungeon where the Duchess of Gloucester was shut up fifteen years, and there died, and used to appear in the shape of a black dog; and a soldier who used to laugh at the story vowed he would speak to it and died raving mad. The Castle was built before artillery was used, and the walls are so thin that it is surprising that it has stood so long. The grassy floor of the hill delightful to rest on through a summer's day, to view the ships and sea, and hear the dashing waves, here seldom gentle, for the entrance to this narrow harbour is very rocky. Fine caves towards the north, but it being high water, we could not go to them. Our way to Kirk Michael, a delightful terrace; sea to our left, cultivated hills to the right, and views backwards to Peele charming. The town stands under a very steep green hill, with a watch-tower at the top, and the castle on its own rock in the sea—a sea as clear as any mountain stream. Fishing-vessels still sallying forth. Visited the good Bishop Wilson's grave, and rambled under the shade of his trees at Bishop's Court, a mile further. The whole country pleasant to Ramsey; steep red banks of river. The town close to the sea, within a large bay, formed to the north by a bare red steep, to the south by green mountain and glen and fine trees, with houses on the steep. Ships in harbour, a steam-vessel at a distance, and sea and hills bright in the evening-time. Pleasant houses overlooking the sea, but the cottage[70] all unsuspected till we reach a little spring, where it lurks at the foot of a glen, under green steeps. A low thatched white house dividing the grassy pleasure plot, adorned with flowers, and above it on one side a hanging garden—flowers, fruit, vegetables intermingled, and above all the orchard and forest trees; peeps of the sea and up the glen, and a full view of the green steep; a little stream murmuring below. We sauntered in the garden, and I paced from path to path, picked ripe fruit, ran down to the sands, there paced, watched the ships and steamboats—in short, was charmed with the beauty and novelty of the scene: the quiet rural glen, the cheerful shore, the solemn sea. To bed before day was gone.
Thursday.—Rose early. Could not resist the sunny grass plot, the shady woody steeps, the bright flowers, the gentle breezes, the soft flowing sea. Walked to Manghold Head, and Manghold Kirk: the first where the cross was planted. The views of Ramsey Bay delightful from the Head: a fine green steep, on the edge of which stands the pretty chapel, with one bell outside, an ancient pedestal curiously carved, Christ on the cross, the mother and infant Jesus, the Manx arms, and other devices; near it the square foundation surrounded with steps of another cross, on which is now placed a small sundial, the whole lately barbarously whitewashed, with church and roof—a glaring contrast to the grey thatched cottages, and green trees, which partly embower the church. Numerous are the grave-stones surrounding that neat and humble building: a sanctuary taken from the waste, where fern and heath grow round, and over-grow the graves. I sate on the hill, while Henry sought the Holy Well, visited once a year by the Manx men and women, where they leave their offering—a pin, or any other trifle. Walked leisurely back to Ramsey; fine views of the bay, the orange-coloured buoy, the lovely town, the green steeps. The town very pretty seen from the quay as at the mountain's foot; rich wood climbing up the mountain glen, and spread along the hillsides.
THE END
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