FROM CHESTER TO HOLYHEAD.
Chester.
Sir,
I crossed the Severn at the ferry of Ash, about ten miles above Bristol, and got to Monmouth to dinner through a rugged, indifferent country. It is a pitiful old town, and hath nothing remarkable in it; and from thence through a fat fertile country I got to the city of Hereford at night.
Hereford is the dirtiest old city I have seen in England, yet pretty large; the streets are irregular and the houses old, and its cathedral a reverend old pile, but not beautiful; the niches of the walls of the church are adorned with the figures of its bishops as big as the life, in a cumbent posture, with the year of their interments newly painted over. Some of them are in the twelve hundredth year of Christ. Here they drink nothing but cider, which is very cheap and very good; and the very hedges in the country are planted with apple-trees. About three miles from Hereford in my road to Ludlow I saw a fine old seat called Hampton Court, belonging to my Lord Coningsby. The plantations on rising grounds round it give an august splendour to the house, which consists of an oval court with suitable offices, not unlike an house belonging to the Duke of Somerset near London; and from thence in a few hours I arrived at Ludlow, the capital of South Wales, and where the Princes of Wales formerly, and since them the Presidents of Wales, kept their courts.
Ludlow is one of the neatest, clean, pretty towns in England. The street by which you enter the town is spacious, with handsome houses sash-windowed on each side, which leads you by an ascent to the castle on the left of the top of the hill, and the church on the right, from whence there runs also another handsome street. The castle hath a very commanding prospect of the adjacent country; the offices in the outer court are falling down, and a great part of the court is turned into a bowling-green; but the royal apartments in the castle, with some old velvet furniture and a sword of state, are still left. There is also a neat little chapel; but the vanity of the Welsh gentry when they were made councillors has spoiled it by adorning it with their names and arms, of which it is full.
A small expense would still make this castle a habitable and beautiful place, lying high, and overlooking a fine country; there is also a fine prospect from the churchyard, and the church is very neat. I saw abundance of pretty ladies here, and well dressed, who came from the adjacent counties, for the convenience and cheapness of boarding. Provisions of all sorts are extremely plentiful and cheap here, and very good company.
I stayed some days here, to make an excursion into South Wales and know a little of the manners of the country, as I design to do at Chester for North Wales. The gentry are very numerous, exceedingly civil to strangers, if you don’t come to purchase and make your abode amongst them. They live much like Gascoynes—affecting their own language, valuing themselves much on the antiquity of their families, and are proud of making entertainments.
The Duke of Powis, of the name of Herbert, hath a noble seat near this town, but I was not at it; the family followed King James’s fortunes to France, and I suppose the seat lies neglected. From Ludlow in a short day’s riding through a champaign country I arrived at the town of Shrewsbury.
Shrewsbury stands upon an eminence, encircled by the Severn like a horse-shoe; the streets are large, and the houses well built. My Lord Newport, son to the Earl of Bradford, hath a handsome palace, with hanging gardens down to the river; as also Mr. Kinnaston, and some other gentlemen. There is a good town-house, and the most coffee-houses round it that ever I saw in any town; but when you come into them, they are but ale-houses (only they think that the name of coffee-house gives a better air). King Charles would have made them a city, but they chose rather to remain a corporation, as they are, for which they were called the “proud Salopians.” There is a great deal of good company in this town, for the convenience of cheapness; and there are assemblies and balls for the young ladies once a week. The Earl of Bradford and several others have handsome seats near it; from hence I came to Wrexham, in Wales, a beautiful market-town; the church is the beautifullest country church in England, and surpasses some cathedrals. I counted fifty-two statues as big as the life in the steeple or tower, which is built after the manner of your Dutch steeples, and as high as any there. I was there on a market-day, and was particularly pleased to see the Welsh ladies come to market in their laced hats, their own hair hanging round their shoulders, and blue and scarlet cloaks like our Amazons—some of them with a greyhound in a string in their hands.