Читать книгу The Cambrian Tourist, or, Post-Chaise Companion through Wales: 1834 - Anonymous - Страница 6

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’Twas from hence with a friend, an equal admirer of Nature’s landscapes, and attached to pedestrian independence, that a tourist resolved to visit the wild and impressive scenery of the Cambrian mountains. The outlines of their route being arranged, they sallied forth in the month of July from this place so much resorted to, and celebrated for its mineral waters. Since it has become a place of fashion, the lodging-houses have been considerably improved, and rendered comfortable for the company, who make this place their residence. The season usually commences about May, and frequently continues till the beginning of November. The majority of the company who frequent Cheltenham resort here not so much for the purpose of water-drinking, as to enjoy the delightful walks and rides, and partake of the sociability of the neighbourhood.

The Walk at the Pump-room, well planned, and kept in excellent order, is planted on each side with limes; at the end is a small square, where the pump is situate, with a room on the left for the accommodation of the company to promenade, measuring sixty-six feet by twenty-three: on the opposite side a reading-room, with a billiard-table over: and a house, the residence of the attendant at the Spa: beyond that is a similar walk which leads to another serpentine walk; from the end of this the spire of Cheltenham church forms a beautiful object. Near these walks stands, on an eminence, the seat of the Earl of Fauconberg; which was the royal residence during their Majesties’ stay from July 12 to August 16, 1788.

In respect to the Rides, Cleave Hill, Dowdeswell, &c. Tewkesbury and Glocester are most admired.

Speaking of the history of the place, we find Cheltenham was a town in the reign of King William the Conqueror; Edward likewise is supposed to have marched through it, before he encamped his army on the field of Tewkesbury; previous to the battle of the houses of York and Lancaster.

Three days may be passed very pleasantly at this place, in viewing the various improvements that have been made in the last twenty-five years, tending both to increase the health and pleasure of its numerous and respectable visitors: for these improvements the town is greatly indebted to the exertions of Messrs. Moreau, King, and Fotheringham, the masters of the ceremonies. Duty with such men scarcely required the additional stimulus of interest to render it efficacious; but with so powerful an auxiliary it was irresistible: thousands have been expended after thousands; public spirit was roused, and competition excited. The public, as well as Messrs. Thompson, Skillicorne, Capstack, Smith, Barrett, Watson and Co., and all others who have spiritedly adventured their property, will, I hope, derive mutual advantage, if not checked by the high charges of some of the principal inns, and the enormous establishments of the overbearing, monopolizing barrack lodging-houses, apparently better calculated for workhouses or houses of correction, than places of residence for valetudinarians.

The wells and baths are numerous, and calculated, under proper medical superintendence, for all chronic disorders and constitutions; but they are not to be trifled with: professional advice, for their proper use, is absolutely necessary.

Of the efficacy of the water, to which this town is indebted for its present celebrity, I refer my readers to a Treatise published by Dr. Fothergill, of Bath.

The church is a respectable old building, by far too crowded and encumbered with galleries, and what are intended as accommodations for a large congregation, to allow all parties to participate in and profit by the discourses there delivered.

The rooms and public receptacles for company, it should be the business of some party to see closed, at all events on Sunday, and particularly on Sunday morning, against those errant gamblers, that will eventually be the bane of Cheltenham.

Libraries and Banks are numerous, as are conveyances to London through Oxford, and to Bristol through Gloucester: here likewise are conveyances to Hereford, Worcester, Birmingham, &c., and by that route to North Wales; but this is not to be depended upon: but to South Wales, through Gloucester and Hereford, the conveyance by coach and waggon for passengers or baggage is ready and convenient.

For further particulars relative to this splendid modern establishment, for such Cheltenham certainly may with propriety be designated, I must refer the reader to the Cheltenham Guide; the information derived from which will amply repay him for its trifling cost. From hence to Gloucester, eight miles one furlong, the road is excellent; and if time allows, Tewkesbury is worthy of a visit, being only nine miles from Cheltenham, and ten miles and a half from Gloucester.

Its ancient abbey is a venerable building, founded in 715, by two brothers, Odo and Dodo, who endowed it with the manor of Stanway in Gloucestershire, &c. &c. sufficient to maintain a prior and four monks of the order of Benedictines: this priory was afterwards, about the year 980, subjected to the priory of Cranbourne, in Dorsetshire, but being subsequently rebuilt in 1102, by Robert Fitz-Hamon, and its endowments greatly enlarged, Girald, the Abbot of Cranbourne, on account of the fruitfulness of the soil, and superiority of its situation, removed his establishment to it, leaving only a prior and two monks at Cranbourne. From this period it appears to have risen in consequence as a town.

The ashes of many noble characters are here deposited; and amongst the rest, amidst the mingled heap of slain and murdered at and after the battle of Tewkesbury, those of the accomplished and lamented Edward, Prince of Wales, son of King Henry the Sixth; Edmund, Duke of Somerset; his brother John de Somerset, the Earl of Devonshire; Lord Wenlock, Master of the Horse to the Prince, with numerous others. Here likewise rest in peace, where all animosities are forgotten, the remains of false, fleeting, perjured Clarence; as also those of Isabel his wife, who was buried with great pomp and solemnity.

Further particulars of this ancient town the reader will obtain by reference to a small but interesting historical work, on the Antiquities of Tewkesbury, by W. Dyde of that place; who, after giving a very full and explicit account of the contest betwixt the houses of York and Lancaster, concludes by saying, “The local memorials of this very decisive battle are but few. The principal scenes of the action are the meadow, which has received the appellation of Bloody Meadow, and the Vineyard. The former lies between two gently descending banks, about half a mile south-west of the town, and was the spot where the slaughter was the greatest. The latter was the place where Queen Margaret lay, and where some intrenchments are still to be traced.”

Stebbing says, “to the monastery and convent of Tewkesbury, King Henry the Seventh granted the parochial church of Towton to pray for the soul of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, his brother John, and others, who lost their lives in the quarrel of the house of Lancaster.”

The entrance to Tewkesbury from Worcester, or Hereford and Malvern, after a heavy fall of rain, presents to the eye the largest moveable body of inland water I have witnessed in England; the junction of the Severn, and the Warwickshire Avon, each overflowing their banks, rushing down two beautiful vales to join their currents opposite the town, and augmenting their volume by the two tributary streams of the Carron and the Swilgate, impress you with the idea of the vicinity of the sea, and the power of the tide, to collect so large a body of that fluid element in such overpowering currents. The drive or ride from Tewkesbury to Upton, and from thence to Malvern hills, is beautiful; indeed, not one inch of this delightful country should be missed or slighted, by travelling over it in the dark or in bad weather: the view from Malvern hills over Worcester, and the rich vale through which the Severn’s current rolls, is perhaps as fine a one as the eye of the painter could wish to be indulged with. Winding round the Malvern hills by a good turnpike road, you gain the Herefordshire view, with the mountains of Wales in the back ground, having Ross on the left, and Bromyard, Leominster, and Salop on the right; descending the hill, you soon reach Ledbury, scarcely remarkable for any thing but the antiquity of its houses, and the fine quality of the cider and perry made in its vicinity. Malvern is about an equal distance from Ledbury and Upton, and those places are nearly equi-distant from