A Tour throughout South Wales and Monmouthshire. J. T. Barber
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