_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.
[Footnote 66: At Rydal Mount.--ED.]
[Footnote 67: The house at Cockermouth where William and Dorothy
Wordsworth were born. Compare _The Prelude_, book i.--ED.]
_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.
[Footnote 68: Henry Hutchinson, Mrs. Wordsworth's brother, the
"retired mariner" of the 9th Sonnet, composed during Wordsworth's
subsequent tour in 1833.--ED.]
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.
[Footnote 69: Joanna Hutchinson.--ED.]
_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.
[Footnote 70: The house in which they were to stay at Ramsey.--ED.]
_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.