Category Archives: Research Blog

Thomas Pennant in Ireland, 1754

Mary-Ann Constantine

Detail from Samuel and Nathan Buck’s South View of Holyhead Harbour 1742 (National Library of Wales)

In 1754 Thomas Pennant, aged 28, heir to but not yet master of the estate at Downing, set off on a Tour of Ireland. The journal he kept of his travels, which would last from late June to late September and take him right around the island, is a sparse enough document: two small notebooks recording journeys between towns and villages, the nature of the country he rode through (usually on horseback) and–crucially–the people he met and stayed with. In his Literary Life written some 40 years later he would explain, with typical dry humour, why this tour never made it into print:

Such was the conviviality of the country, that my journal proved as maigre as my entertainment was gras, so it never was a dish fit to be offered to the public.

Maigre as it is, this account is thrilling to us now as an early example of the kind of raw, jotted text which Pennant subsequently worked up into his published tours; texts which, alas, do not survive (or exist only fragmentarily) for his Scottish and Welsh tours. As a document it is often enigmatic, frustrating, or impossible to decode: but those jotted notes bring us much closer to his actual experience of places and events as they happened than any of his published works. Besides the notebook, a handful of letters from Pennant survive from this summer, written to his aunt Elizabeth, and they provide valuable further insights.

‘Holyhead’ by Moses Griffith, from Thomas Pennant’s Extra Illustrated Tours in Wales, National Library of Wales. (Source: Wikimedia commons)

The tour reveals Pennant’s usual wide-ranging curiosity, beginning with a productive morning’s botanizing with William Morris at Holyhead. Here he finds an anemone

displaying various beautyfull branches, always expanded. it readily seized on any bit of fish offered it and made use of those branches to convey it to its mouth; these branches seemed furnished with small nervous papillae which adhered strongly to my finger.

This possibly marks the first meeting of two men who would become excellent friends: William Morris (1705-63) would write to his brothers of how proud he was ‘of such an ingenious worthy man’s friendship’. The late June crossing to Ireland was not easy: ‘one part of the time a rolling sea and no wind. When off the Hill of Howth an hard gale from land drove us several leagues North’ – and it was Friday morning before they reached Dublin, where he spent several days seeing the sights, including the College and Museum (‘ill furnished’ but with two British axe heads that he rather liked). He then proceeded north and toured Ireland anti-clockwise, taking in a wide range of places from Ballycastle in the far north to Cork in the south.

Pennant’s Irish Itinerary reconstructed from the journal. With thanks to David Parsons.

The Curious Travellers project intends to publish the Irish Tour online, and hopes to have a ‘raw’ unedited text transcribed and available to read before long. My recent experience of introducing the tour at the Eighteenth Century Society of Ireland’s annual conference (Dublin, 2017) made it clear that there is a wealth of existing expertise upon which we could draw in order to put a little more flesh on the bones of this account. Pennant had letters of introduction to gentry houses the length and breadth of the island, many of them important estates undergoing mid-century improvements to their land, houses and gardens: he also visited coalmines and linen manufactures, barracks and harbours, churches and castles. Antiquities and natural phenomena are noted as points of interest, but it is clear that improvement was the main focus of this tour. In a letter to his aunt he compares the landscaping projects of the Annesleys of Castlewhellan to the efforts of Colonel Hugh Boyd at Ballycastle:

The country in these parts owes as much to this good man’s industry, as that about Mr Annesley’s (as mentioned in my last) will soon experience from the indefatigable pains of the latter. The difference consists only in this, Mr Annesley is improving his Land, and Mr Boyde is attempting to form a flourishing colliery and a secure Port. The former he has in some measure succeeded in; but the latter seems still in an uncertain state. A turbulent sea, and a destructive insect has done vast damage, a small grub scarce the 8th part of an inch in length having in five years space utterly destroyed part of the finest oake he had employed in his Pier.

One of the most significant encounters Pennant had was in Kerry, where he spent a week as the guest of Thomas Browne, fourth Viscount Kenmare, at his newly redesigned house in Killarney. Indeed, the arrival of one Thomas, born 1726, sometimes considered the ‘father of Cambrian Tourism’, at the home of another, born the same year, sometimes considered the ‘father of Irish Tourism’, is a thoroughly gratifying historical coincidence. Pennant would ‘Lye at Lord Kenmares’ for a whole week, riding out to see castles and walks, copper mines and plantations, visiting his lordship’s linen manufacture, witnessing an ‘Irish Papist funeral’ (a version of which would later resurface in the 1769 Tour in Scotland) and of course visiting the Lakes of Killarney. Here, as he told his aunt, he was treated to ‘the Beauties of the celebrated Lough Lene’:

These entertained my Eyes; but that was not the only sense that was pleased; for my Hearing had its share from the surprizing Echo from the mountains: to enjoy this in the greatest perfection his Ld brought on the water two French horns, a fife, a drum and Two swivel guns: every note was returned to the former, but when the Latter were discharged the loudest claps of Thunder I ever heard were unequal to the sound returned.

Killarney, by Alphonse Dousseau, Souvenirs pittoresques (1830s). Source: National Library of Wales.

As William Williams and Luke Gibbons have shown, the Killarney Lake Experience has by now become a kind of locus classicus in the history of Irish tourism; it seems both apt and amusing that Pennant should have taken part in this ‘tourist ritual’ during its earliest stages.

There is much to be learned from this hastily-jotted journal and the few accompanying letters, not only about Pennant himself as a young man on his first major journey from home, but about the ways in which his experience of Ireland and Irish society (in all its political and cultural complexity) might have shaped his responses to his Scottish tours, undertaken some fifteen years later. It meshes Pennant’s Tours still further into those ‘four nations’ or ‘archipelagic’ conversations which have contributed so much to our understanding of the eighteenth century in these islands. Some of the people he met and the places he visited are well-known, but researchers of C18th Ireland –academics, local historians, genealogists–will certainly be able to shed light on more obscure details. We would be delighted to hear from anyone who can help; all contributors will be acknowledged in our final edited version. We look forward to working closely with colleagues in Ireland to unpick some of the more elusive events and encounters hidden between its scrawled lines.

Sources and further reading:

Thomas Pennant, The Literary Life of the Late Thomas Pennant Esquire. By Himself. (London, 1793)

Warwickhire County Record Office, Thomas Pennant Archives, CR 2017/TP18/1-2 & CR2017/TP125 1-4

William Williams, Creating Irish Tourism: The First Century, 1750-1850. Anthem Studies in Travel (London, Anthem Press, 2011)

Luke Gibbons, ‘Topographies of Terror: Killarney and the Politics of the Sublime’, The South Atlantic Quarterly, 95.1 (Winter, 1996) 23-45

A fleeting glimpse of C19th ephemeral texts

Kirsty McHugh, Centre for Advanced Welsh and Celtic Studies

In analysing the composition of manuscript travel journals I have become particularly interested in the influence of novels, guidebooks and other literature on how tourists chronicle their travel experiences.

Two particular travellers, who made tours of Scotland and Wales in the Romantic period, Jonathan Gray (1779-1837, attorney from York) and Anne Lister (1791-1841, heiress to the Shibden Hall estate near Halifax) have left us rich sources for this studying this aspect of tour writing.

Todd’s bookshop in Stonegate, York, which Jonathan Gray is known to have frequented. Painted by Henry Cave in 1797. Image in public domain, from York Museums Trust website.

Publications and other print items associated with tourism were often produced for a very specific purpose and tourists’ interactions with them might be brief. We know Anne Lister retained the copy of Nicholson’s Cambrian Travellers Guide she purchased on her 1822 tour of Wales (it is listed in the auction catalogue of the Shibden Hall Library), however we do not know if she kept her copy of The Scottish Tourist & Itinerary. Since the information contained in guidebooks would quite quickly date their long-term value was limited. In her diary Anne records borrowing a guide to St Andrews when she visits the town – at 5 shillings the book is apparently too pricey for local booksellers to stock.

The keeper of the ruins … lent us the “Delineations of St Andrews” by James Grierson M.D. M.W.S. Cupar, 1823, 1 volume, 12o pp 224 price 5/ thought too dear by the booksellers there who refuse to buy so as to be obliged to sell it at this price & the publisher refuses it at less so there is difficultly about getting the work. (28 June 1828)

‘Ephemera’ such as broadsheets, posters and leaflets were by nature intended to be used and then thrown away. The owners of tourist sites often produced guides to their attractions – some of these might be small booklets, others simply a single sheet of paper. Anne Lister records in her diary how at St Winifred’s Well ‘a woman there (at the well) – gave each of us a glass of water & a printed sheet of paper account of the spring for which I gave her 6d & she certainly was not satisfied.’ (25 July 1822)

Examples of early 19th-century broadsheets similar to those Anne and her aunt would have received. Reproduced courtesy of Flintshire Archives (D-DM/955/2/22 & PR/A/4)

On tour in Wales a few years earlier Jonathan Gray took an interest in a poem which he found pasted on their bedroom door at the inn at Beddgert. He transcribed it into his journal and noted:

It is in print, & dated the 11 Augt 1800. It is, therefore, new & I am the first lucky journalist who had laid hold on it to swell & adorn his page. Warner [author of Walks Through Wales] would have bounced with rapture at the sight of it, but to him the sight has been denied. What is more remarkable, it has only been here since yesterday morning. A lady who called yesterday, a friend of the author’s pasted it up, & we are the first who have seen it. We enquired of our Snowdon guide who confirms the assertion, that the tradition of the greyhound is current in this neighbourhood. He says that country people shew a stone which they believe to be the tomb of Gêlert.’ (26 August 1800)

Transcription of the poem in Jonathan Gray’s travel journal (GRF/6/3). Reproduced courtesy of York Explore Library & Archives

A copy of Beth- Gêlert or the Grave of the Greyhound by William Robert Spencer (4pp, 4°). Note the date – this is the same edition of the copy encountered by Gray. Reproduced courtesy of the National Library of Wales.

Less direct encounters with everyday texts are also noted by Jonathan Gray and Anne Lister in their journals, suggesting they were particularly alert to printed material. For Anne Lister posters could provide useful information on the locality. At Glasgow, she derives information about the depth of the River Clyde from a notice posted on the premises of the humane society (9 June 1828). (The Society was founded in 1790 and still exists today to promote water safety).

Her attitude to the printed matter she encounters on tour is in line with her attitude towards record-keeping and education – her diaries are packed full of all sorts of information about her life and show she read widely and wished to attain a rich and full education in classical literature, mathematics and languages. Jonathan notes texts which strike him as unusual in some way. At Kenmore he considers the notice on a church door to be of interest because it is written in Erse (i.e. Gaelic). Tradesmen’s adverts and signboards also amuse him.

At Alnwick, on their way north, he writes:

There are two gate ways to this town, one of them very handsome with a tower & a crown at the top similar to that at St. Nicholas’, Newcastle. We were struck with a board over the door – “Work of all kinds done by Wm Nixon.”

At Glasgow, he notes:

The shops have in general the articles of their trade painted on the top of the shop door. The trades of the people in some places described in a manner unintelligible to Englishmen. One man is a change keeper & horse seller.

Perhaps, the detail that I find most intriguing, however, is his comment that at Moffat the playbills are handwritten – ‘as at Inverary they have no printing office, & the bills are manuscript.’

I would be fascinated to know whether any such playbills still survive. I imagine that very few do because the survival of printed ephemera probably relies largely on printers’ archives. The only example from this period I could find online is an amateur production held aboard the British prison ship, the Crown, held by the National Maritime Museum. For an image of this handwritten poster see this article in the journal of comparative literature Inquire.

Jonathan’s comments on signs and posters are indicative of the eclectic and light-hearted tone of his tour journals. Travel writing often blended history, antiquarianism, aesthetics, and anthropology but Gray’s omnivorous attitude to travel writing also seems to reflect his own interests. Later in life he would take an active role in local cultural and scientific institutions such as the Yorkshire Philosophical Society, and develop interests in architecture, astronomy, and music. He was also involved in the establishment of the Yorkshire Gazette.

Travel writing has always had a role in providing evidence of material culture (such as costume, domestic interiors, and traditions). Much of my research questions whether travelogues always reflect the author’s on-the-spot observations. The insights into the consumption of print in Gray and Lister’s journals, however, have made me think again about how travelogues are valuable both for the information they contain and what they reveal about the preoccupations of individual travellers and the wider culture to which they belong. I am inclined to think Jonathan Gray and Anne Lister’s comments are unusual and linked to their personalities and particular motivations for travel. However, I would be interested to hear from other researchers who have found similar attention to print culture in pieces of travel writing which they have studied.

Go to Kirsty’s personal page.

Links/further reading

In Search of Dr John Stuart’s Luss: Hog-backs, Dawn Redwoods, and Gaelic Bibles

Nigel Leask

Saturday 25th March, it’s a cold but beautiful bright morning. Evelyn and Flora are off to see the Tove Janssen exhibition in London (my daughter’s 17th birthday treat) so I am home alone with Max the cat. Its been an extraordinary heavy week, the final teaching sessions of the semester and a day in Edinburgh conducting a mock interview and talking to students from the Scottish Graduate School about applying for post-doctoral fellowships. Have been sleeping badly, end of semester exhaustion, so decide to head out to Loch Lomond and do something different with the day. My plan is to follow the tracks of Dr John Stuart of Luss (1743-1821), Pennant’s travelling companion on his second, 1772 tour of Scotland, Highland minister and co-translator of the first Scottish Gaelic Bible: also (perhaps less well known) he was a Linnaean botanist of some distinction.

Dr John Stuart of Luss – Unsigned portrait of John Stuart appearing in Pennant’s Extra-Illustrated Tours in Scotland, published with special permission from the National Library of Wales

As well as his Gaelic scholarship, Stuart contributed the entry on the ‘Parish of Luss’ to Sir John Sinclair’s Statistical Account of Scotland, 1793-99, so much of what we know about the 18th century village is derived from his pen, as well as from the many travellers who passed through Luss on the long or short tour of Scotland. Alex Deans is currently transcribing Stuart’s letters to Pennant from Warwick County Archives, so the time is ripe for us to do some more research on his life and works.

Traffic is still light as I drive out on the A82 towards Dumbarton, but I know that will soon change, and in fact on the way home at the end of the day I get stuck in heavy traffic between Arden and Balloch – the road (following the course of Gen. Caulfield’s military road between Dumbarton and Inveraray, constructed 1748-53) picks up all the travellers from Loch Fyne and Oban, as well as vehicles plying the Crianlarich-Fort William route.  But instead of taking the fast dual carriageway between Dumbarton and Balloch, I decide first to check out another eighteenth century literary connection. I turn off through Renton and Alexandra in the Vale of Leven, through which the river Leven empties out Loch Lomond’s waters into the Clyde estuary at Dumbarton. Even on a beautiful day like this, its obvious that the village of Renton suffers badly from poverty, unemployment and social deprivation, although it is a lot better than I remember it twenty years ago. One of Scotland’s earliest industrial landscapes, comprising bleach fields, print works and cotton mills, eighteenth century travellers all commented on how neat and orderly it all was. Renton can also boast one of the first working class libraries in Britain, with its own reading and discussion club. Thomas Pennant describes the Vale of Leven (on his 1769 tour) as ‘unspeakably beautifull, very fertile, and finely watered by the great and rapid river Levin…there is scarcely a spot on its banks but what is decorated with bleacheries, plantations, and villas’. (Tour in Scotland, 1769, p. 226)

Smollet Monument, Renton

I don’t think anyone would reach for the words ‘unspeakably beautiful’ to describe modern Renton, but my eye is caught by a handsome neoclassical pillar topped with a funerary urn beside the war memorial, immediately on the left hand side of the main road.

It’s a monument to the novelist Tobias Smollett, born nearby and educated in Glasgow before heading south as a physician, editor and novelist, who later immortalized his birthplace in the ‘Ode to Leven Water’, and in his final novel, Humphry Clinker. Johnson and Boswell stayed with the novelist’s cousin ‘Commissary Smollett’ at Cameron House on 27th Oct 1773, where Smollett consulted Johnson on the Latin inscription he planned to place on the monument that he had erected near the banks of the Leven following the novelist’s death in Livorno in 1771. According to Boswell, Johnson ‘greatly improved it by several additions and variations’. (Black, p. 429) This failed to impress Coleridge, however, when he translated it for the benefit of Dorothy Wordsworth in 1803: ‘The Latin is miserably bad – as Coleridge said, such as poor Smollett, who was an excellent scholar, would have been ashamed of’. (Recollections of a Tour in Scotland, p. 81)

Smollet inscription

Unfortunately this fine monument to one of Scotland’s greatest writers isn’t as well known as it deserves, partly because it is no longer situated on the ‘high road’ to Dumbarton, as it was before the construction of the dual carriageway bypass.

Driving on past the huge Vale of Leven hospital, I see the gleaming snow covered peak of Ben Lomond towering over the urban scene, looking uncanny in the bright Spring sunshine – I remember Pennant’s description of the mountain as being ‘like Saul amidst his companions, overtop[ping] the rest’. (Tour 1769, p. 224) Rejoining the fast growing stream of Saturday tourist traffic heading for the hills and lochs at Balloch roundabout on this beautiful spring day, I make rapid progress to Luss, where Dr Stuart was minister for 44 years, and managed to find a parking space in the car park of one of Scotland’s most popular tourist spots, often called the ‘gateway to the Highlands’.

View from Luss

It’s a very pretty place, with breathtaking views over the Loch and its wooded islands, but maybe Ian Crichton Smith summed it up well when he described twentieth century Luss as ‘a picture of a village rather than a true village’. It’s certainly changed somewhat from Dorothy Wordsworth’s 1803 description as ‘a cluster of thatched houses among trees, with a large chapel in the midst of them’, although by then the village already boasted a slate quarry and small cotton mill. (Recollections of a Tour in Scotland, p. 84) It’s nice to see at least five Glaswegian Asian families warming up their barbecues on the sandy beach though, ready for a picnic of spicy delights in the sunshine.

I walk down towards the church, and cross the bridge to the Glebe. The water is transparent, and I can see schisteous pebbles gleaming on the shallow riverbed in the bright light. Luss Water runs through shady woods into the loch, and bonfire smoke drifts through the alder trees, while the mountains looming behind the village still show patches of white snow, despite the gathering warmth of the midday sun. The church faces me, not the building that Dr Stuart would have known, but a handsome Victorian structure erected in 1875 by Sir James Colquhoun of Luss to commemorate the tragic drowning of his father and four of his men when their boat was overturned in a winter storm.

Luss church

The architecture of the kirk’s roof evokes the keel of the laird’s empty upturned boat, a moving memorial to a terrible accident. But the current church was built on the site of the earlier eighteenth century church (built in 1771 on the site of the pre-reformation one, and therefore a new construction when Dr John Stuart became minister in 1777) which, by all accounts, and the evidence of a single surviving photograph, was itself a fine building, in the austere 18th century neoclassical style. Because the kirk door was locked, I strolled around the graveyard, literally stumbled over another famous monument inspired by an upturned boat, this time a Viking hog-back sarcophagus,

Viking Hog-back

dating from the time of the Norse occupation of the Earldom of Lennox, which ended with Vikings’ defeat by the Scottish king at Largs in 1263. It’s curious that Pennant, who visited Luss in 1769 (without John Stuart on this first visit, unfortunately) and commented on some of the other antiquities, didn’t mention this one, although he did describe a similar hog-back monuments at the ‘Giant’s Grave’ in St Andrew’s Church, at Penrith in England, as well as an illustrative plate. Dr John Stuart, writing in the Statistical Account, remark that ‘in the [Luss] church-yard [are] some stone coffins of considerable antiquity’, although he doesn’t seem to be specifically alluding to the hog-back here.

I hadn’t had time to do much homework for my John Stuart tour, but it turned out to be one of those lucky days. In the graveyard I quickly located Stuart’s handsome gravestone,

Stuart’s grave

bearing the inscription ‘born at Killin in 1743 and successively minister of Arrochar, Weem, and Luss, whose Genuine Piety and Amiable Temper endeared him to his Family and his Flock’. It also records his greatest achievement, the first translation of ‘the Holy Scriptures into his native language’ of Gaelic. Crossing the road, I saw what looked like the manse, a handsome square building commanding a fantastic view over Loch Lomond, and speculated that this was the house (or its site) in which Stuart had lived. I recalled that he complained in the Statistical Account that although ‘the church is uncommonly good…the manse was built in 1740, is insufficient, and at present in need of repair’. (SAS ‘Luss’, p. 265)

 

Manse at Luss

The building before me, even if it looks a bit unlived in (Luss has no resident minister), showed signs of having been extensively refurbished and enlarged since Stuart’s time, probably by the Victorians, if the architecture is anything to go by.

Next door was the Luss Glass Studio, so entering, I asked the lady at the counter if the adjacent building was in fact the old manse. She told me that my guess was correct, and I explained my interest in Luss’s 18th century minister, Dr. John Stuart. I had really struck lucky – she introduced herself as Janine Smith, a stained glass artist who runs the studio, and who is also well versed in the history of the village community of which she has been a member for many years. Janine showed me into the adjacent Luss Pilgrimage Centre, which contains an informative display of the history of Luss.

It includes a panel dedicated to Stuart and the work of the Stuarts father and son in producing the first Scottish Gaelic Bible (John’s father, Dr James Stuart of Killin, translated the New Testament, which was published in 1767).

Gaelic Testament

Janine was brought up a Gaelic speaker on Tiree before moving to the mainland, and so Stuart’s historical importance for Scottish Gaelic is of great concern to her. Finding that we shared views about Scottish history and culture (as well as indyref 2!) we agreed that too much hot air had been dedicated to warlords like Wallace and Bruce, and not enough to quieter, but nonetheless important historical Scots like John Stuart, a proud Gaelic speaker and a scholar of international importance. Stuart and his father struggled against the tide of ignorance and prejudice that did so much damage to the Gaelic language in the 19th and 20th centuries, and which is only now beginning to be turned back in the first welcome signs of a language revival.

Janine kindly offered to show me the interior of Luss kirk, and closing the studio for a few minutes, she took me across the road with the keys. The interior was stunning, not least as the bright sunshine showed up the magnificent stained glass to perfection, as she was quick to point out to me. I admired the three ancient Christian relics held in the church, memorials of the Celtic missionary, St Kessog, born in Ireland around 460AD, and thought to have arrived here in 510, bringing the Christian message, before his martyrdom at Bandry Bay, a mile or so south of Luss. The three relics are a stone baptismal font, a fine life-sized statue of St Kessog (dressed anachronistically in the robes and mitre of a medieval bishop, and what looks very like a false nose!),

and a powerful ‘primitive’ carved head of the saint in the style of early Celtic sculpture.

These monuments were reputedly removed from the old church by local people at the time of the Reformation and buried for safe keeping at the cairn-na-Cheasoig (St Kessog’s Cairn) on the loch side near Bandry, the site of his martyrdom.

There’s a nice eighteenth century connection, though – two hundred years later, in the late 1740’s, the relics were excavated by a squad of soldiers from Colonel Lascelles regiment who were constructing the military road from Dumbarton to Inveraray, when they opened up the cairn that was blocking the route of the planned road. They must have left much of the cairn intact, though, as Pennant writes ‘near the side of the lake, about a mile or two farther, is a great heap of stones in memory of St. Mac-Kessog, Bishop and Confessor, who suffered martyrdom there AD 520, and was buried in Comstraddan church’. (Tour 1769, p. 226) This jogged my memory, and I recalled a fascinating paper given by Prof Thomas Clancy of Glasgow’s Celtic Department at the first Thomas Pennant Workshop in 2013, describing the local important of St Kessog’s Cairn, and its disappearance from modern maps. I can’t believe that these striking relics of this important Celtic Saint are so little known in modern Scotland – I grew up in Strathblane, in adjacent Stirlingshire (where the local Catholic Church is called ‘St Kessog’s’, and there is also a ‘St Kessog’s Well’), but was completely unaware of their existence here in Luss, a village that I have visited many times since boyhood.

Blinking in the sunlight as we exited the dark church, Janine took me across to the manse, and showed me into the garden. This extensive space, like the manse now a bit neglected, must have been where John Stuart exercised his other great passion – botany.

Manse Garden

Visiting Luss in the last years of the 18th century, the naturalist and traveller Dr Thomas Garnett (lecturer in Chemistry in Glasgow’s Andersonian Institute, the ancestor of Strathclyde University) described the garden in its heyday:

‘after breakfast we repaired to the manse, to visit Dr STUART, the minister, a man of great taste, and learning; he received us very politely, and shewed us his garden, which contains a variety of scarce plants, particularly British alpines, brought by himself from their native mountains. I found here most of the scarce plants which grow upon Benlomond and Benevis, as well as in the wilds of the Hebrides, but being removed into a milder climate, they flourish much more luxuriantly. Mr STUART has for some time been engaged in translating the Bible into Gaelic. (Thomas Garnett, Observations on a Tour through the Highlands, 2 vols, (London 1800), I, 37.)

Appropriately enough, a Chinese ‘Dawn Redwood’ (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) or ‘fossil tree’ has been planted in the manse garden, and is maintained by the community. This was clearly the site of one of enlightenment Scotland’s important botanical gardens – another reason for underlining Stuart’s importance, and of the village in which he ministered from 1777 until his death in 1821.

Having promised Janine that we’d be back in touch, and drawing her attention to the Curious Travellers website, I headed off for a late lunch and a hill walk, delighted that my unprepared visit to Luss had been so fruitful, and that I’d had the good fortune to meet, entirely by chance, someone who was so well informed about Dr Stuart, and so generous in sharing her information and enthusiasm. But the rest of the day had more delights in store, as I drove up the length of Loch Lomond to Glenfalloch, parked at Bein Glas farm and, following in the tracks of William and Dorothy Wordsworth, ascended the steep path to Bein Glas waterfall in the now blazing sun. Climbing further up, I followed the ridge southwards, gaining some magnificent views of the Loch and its wooded shores on a bright spring day, with the snow still gleaming on Stob-nan-Choinnich and Ben Vorlich across the glen.

Loch Lomond from Bein Glas ridge

Descending a steep but brackenless slope towards Cnap Mor, I joined the West Highland Way in one of its most beautiful passages, and walked back through early primroses, ruined black houses, and lengthening afternoon shadows as the sun sank behind the wall of mountains to the west.

Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Century student marginalia in copies of Pennant’s Tours in Scotland held in St Andrews University Library

Nigel Leask

For some time we’ve been gathering information about the reception of Pennant’s 1769 and 1772 Tours in Scotland north of the border. By and large Scottish readers were positive, especially when compared with the storm that blew up after the publication of Dr Johnson’s Journey to the Western Islands in 1775. Most of the criticisms that we have found were levelled at Pennant’s treatment of Jacobitism and his comments on the Battle of Culloden, or on ‘proscribed’ clans like the MacGregors.

However, when my Glasgow colleague Dr Mathew Sangster alerted me to Emily Savage’s marvellous blog posted on St Andrew’s University Library Special Collections website I was forced to revise my opinion! Its title is ‘Copyright ABCS – “This Book is Very Ill Used”. Student Marginalia in a Tour of Scotland’.

St Andrews students adorn the margins with complaints (often in very picturesque terms) about Pennant’s shortcomings as a traveller and travel writer. Sometimes these are plain wrong-headed: he is blamed for not mentioning Oban and Tobermory in his statement that there were no towns in the Highlands between Campbeltown and Thurso (in fact neither town had been founded in 1772). But he is also criticized for credulity regarding Highland superstitions, and for misspelling, and slandered as ‘a blockhead’, a ‘damned liar’ and (worst of all) a ‘Welch goat’. The only mitigating factor appears to be that St Andrews students (who had to take library books home and would consequently read, and scribble on, book with no supervision) were even-handed with their abuse, and many other authors came in for much worse invective than Pennant. This fascinating marginalia also demonstrates, of course, just how widely read Pennant’s Tours were in the period.

Thanks to Sean Ripington, St Andrews’ Digital Archives Officer, for permission to share this blog and link on Curious Travellers website.

Further Notes on the Inn at Cernioge

Michael Freeman, former Curator of Ceredigion Museum

Kirsty McHugh’s work has added to the many references to the inns at Cernioge. These illustrate just how many references can survive for just one building, even one in a remote place such as this. Although many of the descriptions are very brief, in combination they provide a valuable record of the inn and the services provided by its occupants.

The original Inn at Cernioge was situated in a very bleak location close to one of the highest points on the road between Llangollen (23 miles) and Bangor (30 miles). This became part of Telford’s Irish road (London to Holyhead) which was improved at great expense between 1815 and 1825. The opening of the new line of road from Pont-y-Padock to Cernioge Mawr through Pentrefoelas was opened on the 8th April, 1821.

An inn at Cerniogie Mawr was licenced to sell alcohol in 1772. It was sometimes known as the Prince Llewellyn, but by 1827 was possibly named the King’s Arms. The most detailed description of this inn is supplied by a German visitor, Dr. Samuel Heinrich Spiker, who toured Wales in 1816:

The house was of a simple appearance, two stories in height, with only five windows in front …The interior arrangement of the house was altogether such as any private person might wish to imitate. We had our choice of several neat and even elegant bed rooms; and our pleasant and well-furnished sitting-room, on the right of the entrance below stairs.’

It seem likely that this is the ‘single’ inn, suitable for only one party of tourists, described by Lord John Henry Manners in 1797 and by Sir Richard Colt Hoare in 1801. A new inn and large stables were constructed at an unknown date when the road was improved, sometime after 1815, but it is thought that Telford was not responsible for the design of either.

Romantic–era Trip Advisor: satisfied guests!

Early visitors include the Rev. Richard Warner who ordered a freshly killed lamb to be roasted for him and his companion in August 1797 but doubted ‘whether a very keen appetite, produced by a fasting walk of 26 miles, will render it eatable.’ He, like others, described its location as solitary, being a convenient place for coaches to stop on the Irish road.

An anonymous lady tourist thought the inn delightful when she stayed there in 1811, and T.J. and B. Parke thought it very good in 1813. For the German tourist Dr. Samuel Heinrich Spiker it was one of the highlights of his tour of 1816: ‘I can truly say that [I had at Cernioge] some of the most agreeable hours I enjoyed during my stay in England [sic]. The interior as well as the exterior of the house were quite calculated to illustrate the meaning of that untranslatable word “comfort,” of which an idea can be formed only in England.

Harriet Alderson, companion to Lady Fitzherbert, found the accommodation excellent in 1818; Lady Philadelphia Cotton described it as an ‘excellent in all respects’ in 1819 and Charles Octavius Swinnerton Morgan of Tredegar had a capital breakfast at this ‘magnificent’ inn in 1821. Three sisters, Mary, Bessy and Lucy Holland of Plas Penrhyn, cousins of Elizabeth Gaskell, found the inn ‘a little Paradise in the Wilderness‘ during their journey to Barmouth in 1823 and the 12-year old Eleanor Bagot (who wrote a very mature account of a visit to north Wales in 1827) noted: ‘From [Corwen] to Cernioge is flat and bleak, except here and there a good specimen of rock. We found an excellent dinner prepared for us, of which none of our party were at all unwilling to partake; I must add that the Inn is very clean and comfortable.’ Thomas Roscoe recorded that in about 1836 it was very busy:

Having previously heard of the excellence of this house of entertainment, I resolved to rest myself for a day or two. This place had a decidedly English appearance, for in the yard were four large ricks of hay (an extraordinary sight in Wales), extensive and well-built stabling, and the arrivals and departures were so frequent as to keep up the bustling excitement of a high thoroughfare.

And some dissatisfied guests…

When John Henry Manners, the fifth Duke of Rutland, accompanied by Lord Arthur Somerset and two others, arrived at the inn at 6pm on the 27th September, 1797, they were pleased to find that there was no one else there because it was so small, but surprised that there was no port wine in the house: they expected to be served wine at an inn on a highroad.

In 1805, William Fordyce Mavor described the inn as ‘very ordinary, where there is little attention and less accommodation’ and complained that he and his companions were almost suffocated by the fumes from the turf fire.

One of the few others who were not satisfied with the inn was Millicent Bant who accompanied Lady Wilson on a tour of Wales in 1806: she described the inn as miserable. Her dissatisfaction might have been influenced by her expectations, the weather, comparison with better inns and her general state of mind (which might have come about as a result of being for so long with her irritable employee), but it is also possible that the landlord or landlady were simply unable to satisfy their visitors’ needs that day. However, during a visit to the inn in 1815, Richard Grenville, 1st Duke of Buckingham and Chandos, was convinced that the landlord was a rogue. He wrote:

We meant to have gone on to Oswestry tonight, but arrived too late here owing to a resolute attempt made by the landlord of Cernioge Mawr to make us sleep there, and a more resolute resistance on our part – He swore he had no horses, we swore he did – He swore that what he had were just come in from a journey – We swore he lied again inasmuch as we had [seen] they had been in above an hour – He swore again we should not have them, we swore that he should not be the better for it as we would sit in the chaise and wait there until our former horses were refreshed which should take us back to Capel Curig where we would go and sleep rather than be bullied by him – This took up an hour and he kept us another hour in the chaise waiting to see if we should be as good as our word. He saw at length that we were sturdy so gave us horses which brought us at a snail’s pace here.’

The grounds

Dr. Samuel Heinrich Spiker’s description of the building in 1816 was accompanied by an account of the grounds: ‘before [the house] was a level court-yard, laid with gravel, in which peacocks, turkies, pigeons, and other poultry strutted about in rural security. Three fine old maple trees formed a row at one side of the door, and a bench under them invited to repose under their shade. A little grove opposite to the house formed a kind of partition towards the high road.

In 1831 Hannah Williams described the inn as ‘large and handsome … in the midst of a wild moorland district. Around the house are some good plantations, intersected with walks, and in the front a lake, on which we noticed some curious foreign geese, which we understood were from South Carolina.’ Tourists were particularly fond of woodland and ‘pieces’ of water, and it is possible that the vegetation had matured by this date. The energetic Thomas Letts (ancestor of the firm who produced Letts’ diaries), made four visits to North Wales between 1832 and 1847. In 1833 he noted that the inn was ‘a dashing place with carriage drive, lawns, peacocks etc.’ In the same year, Catherine Sinclair thought that the garden was neat but the house was only ‘tolerably good’, even though ‘So many travellers were assembled at this place … that it was quite a favour on the landlord’s part to afford us accommodation.’ She also noted the sign above the door of the Inn: ‘By act of Parliament. Licenced to be drunk on the premises’ which was seen at every alehouse along the highroad.

Harpers

Christopher Rawson’s reference to a harp player at the inn in 1817 is one of several. In 1791 ‘A.B.’ was entertained by a blind harper. As he pointed out, most north Wales inns had someone who could play the harp (probably between other duties). They played in the hall of inns for hours on end in the hope of being given a generous tip by the guests – often one shilling. In about 1800 an anonymous tourist rejoiced at finding a harper at the inn and made some comments on the differences between Welsh and English harps.

George Bryant Campion (1796-1870) Sketches of the picturesque character of Great Britain from nature and on stone. (London: Ackermann, 1836), no. 5 ‘A Welsh Harper’.

George Bryant Campion (1796-1870) Sketches of the picturesque character of Great Britain from nature and on stone. (London: Ackermann, 1836), no. 5 ‘A Welsh Harper’.

In 1816 Dr Samuel Spiker was entertained by harp music played by the landlady’s daughter (presumably Miss Weaver). A harper is said to have entertained Princess Victoria there on her journey to Beaumaris in 1832. In 1837 Elizabeth Bower described the harper as ‘another old Welsh man, an even better performer than our friend at Llangollen’ although she didn’t think his instruments was quite up to London standards. The last recorded visitor to the inn was John Parry, (Bardd Alaw, 1776-1851) in 1838. He was the author of ‘An Account of the Rise and Progress of the Harp’ (1834) and it is a great shame that he was not entertained by a harper at this inn, because his comments would have been very well informed (unless he heard a performance not worthy of comment).

(For more on harpers in Welsh inns see here.)

Closure

The building of the A5 across the middle of north Wales displaced the north coast road (now the A55) as the main route to Holyhead for those coming from central and southern England. Likewise, the railway along the north coast from Chester all the way to Holyhead, constructed from 1844, displaced much of the traffic on the A5, leaving some of the inns on this fine road bereft of travellers. John Parry (Bardd Alaw) described the inn as ‘comfortable’ when he stayed there in August, 1838 but it appears that the stage coach service was abandoned in 1839 and the Cernioge Inn victualler’s licence was lost to the Pentrefoelas Arms, three miles to the west, in the same year. Its closure might have been influenced by the fact that Mr Job Weaver, Inn keeper was found to be of unsound mind in 1832.

Full details of references to Cernioge Inn may be found here.

  • B. ‘Sketch of a short tour into north Wales in July 1791, by AB and WD’, NLW MS 24019B, p. 33
  • Report on the opening of the road. The New Monthly Magazine and Literary Journal, vol. 3, (May 1, 1821), p. 264
  • Anon, Narrative of a Tour through Wales by an anonymous English Gentleman. c. 1800, NLW ms. 18943, ff. 46-47
  • Dr Samuel Heinrich Spiker, (1786-1858.)Travels through England, Wales, & Scotland, in the year 1816. : Translated from the German, (1820) vol. 2, p. 43.
  • Bezant Lowe, The heart of Northern Wales: as it was and as it is. vol. 2, 485,
  • Elizabeth Bower, [Tour of Wales], Dorset Record Office, D/BOW:kw 209
  • Warner, Richard, Rev (1763-1857) A Walk through Wales in Aug, 1797, (1799) 158, Letter X, Cernioge, 23.8.1797
  • Mavor, W. F., A tour in Wales, and through several counties of England : including both the universities ; performed in the summer of 1805 (1806), p. 124
  • Millicent Bant, [Tour of Wales, 1806], Essex Record office D/DFr F2, f. 21v
  • Anon, (A lady) Diary of a driving tour of North Wales in the months of July and August 1811, Cardiff Central Library, Ms1.405, p. 15
  • Harriet Alderson, (accompanied Lady Fitzherbert of Tissington, Staffs?), Journal of a tour from Aston to Beaumaris in September 1818, Gwynedd Record Office, XM/2600
  • Lady Philadelphia Cotton, Tour through North Wales, 1819, Cambridgeshire County Record Office, 588/F48
  • Charles Octavius Swinnerton Morgan, ‘Journal of a tour through North Wales – 1821’, Society of Antiquaries of London, Octavius Morgan Sal/MS/680, fols. 20v-39v. and transcription with notes in Dai Morgan Evans, Octavius Morgan : journal of a tour through North Wales in 1821, Archaeologia Cambrensis, vol. 160, (2011), 244
  • Eleanor Bagot, ‘Journal on a Visit from Blithfield to North Wales’, National Library of Wales, Bachymbyd collection, Uncatalogued.
  • Thomas Roscoe, Wanderings and excursions in North Wales, (1853), p. 116
  • Richard Grenville, Letters to Mrs Lloyd, Rolls, Chigwell, Essex, NLW ms 2596, pp. 3-4
  • Hannah Williams, Journey through Shropshire, Wales, Ireland & Lancashire, 1831, Worcestershire Record Office, 899:866/9522
  • Catherine Sinclair, (1800-1864), Hill and Valley, or Hours in England and Wales 1833, 1st edition, New York, 1838, p. 95; 2nd Edition, Whyte and Co, Edinburgh, 1839, p. 116
  • John Parry, (Bardd Alaw), Trip to North Wales containing much information relative to that interesting alpine country, [1839], p. 10
  • G. Harper, The Holyhead Road: the mail coach road to Dublin, vol. 2, (1902), p. 226-229 with illustration.
  • Jamie Quartermaine, et. al. Thomas Telford’s Holyhead Road, The A5 in north Wales, (2003), p. 102
  • Peregrine Bingham, Reports of Cases Argued and Determined in the Court of Common Pleas, and elsewhere…vol. X, (1834) pp. 520-521

The Cernioge Inn: a forgotten spot on the Welsh tour

Kirsty McHugh, Centre for Advanced Welsh and Celtic Studies

Many of the sites visited by travellers on tours of Wales in the eighteenth and nineteenth century like Snowdon, the vale of Llangollen, or Caernarfon Castle are familiar to us today as tourist attractions and sites of interest. It was common for tourists keeping journals to also note down the places they stopped or slept at and make notes of the quality of accommodation. These can give an insight into the challenges of travel in the Romantic period and the necessity of forward planning in order to make sure you had a bed for the night.

One inn that became particularly popular because of its location on the road to Holyhead, situated mid-way between the popular beauty spot of Betws-y-Coed and the town of Corwen was the Cernioge Inn. This is a place which has today almost disappeared off the map.

Map from Rev. Richard Warner’s, A Walk Through Wales, 1798.

Map from Rev. Richard Warner’s, A Walk Through Wales, 1798.

The main inn (it was known in 1795 as the Prince Llewellyn) survives beside what is today the A5. Its stable block on the opposite side of the road is more remarkable than the inn itself, and is what catches the modern traveller’s eye.

The stables of the Cernioge Inn near Glasfryn are today a barn on an isolated farm. Author’s photograph.

The stables of the Cernioge Inn near Glasfryn are today a barn on an isolated farm. Author’s photograph.

When the site was visited during research for the Council for British Archaeology report on the history of the A5 (2003) the interior of the inn building had been altered, but the stable block was largely unchanged. It still contained two stables with pitched stone floors, drains and hay mangers, and upstairs was divided into two plastered chambers with fireplaces (perhaps lodgings for the grooms).

Christopher Rawson and his brother stayed at the Cernioge Inn in 1817.

At this inn you meet with the best accommodation in N. Wales & the greatest civility. Kept by a Mr. Weaver, whose wife was lately a servant of Mr Abletts. It stands in high repute on this road & all the travellers from Ireland prefer sleeping here to any other. Excellent beds & the choicest fare. Miss W his daughter, an excellent performer on the harp & sings Welch airs.

Christopher’s brother William recommended the Cernioge Inn to their Halifax neighbours the Listers of Shibden Hall.

It seems that they took his advice and Anne Lister stayed there with her aunt on their Welsh tour in 1822. Anne records in her diary enjoying a good dinner of trout, mutton chops, and gooseberry tart and cream. She also mentions purchasing a copy of Nicholson’s Cambrian Traveller’s guide from Mr Weaver the landlord. With typical attention to detail Lister records that she purchased a copy of the second edition, published in London in 1813 in one octavo volume, and that it cost 18 shillings.

The surviving inn building is through to date from Weaver’s time, although the first recorded licence for an alehouse at Cernioge Mawr is 1772. The importance the inn once had as a staging post where one could change horses is attested to by the milestones, which can still be seen today.

Milestone near Glasfryn on Thomas Telford’s road through North Wales (now part of the A5). Copyright Keith Evans. Reused under Creative Commons Licence from Geograph.

Milestone near Glasfryn on Thomas Telford’s road through North Wales (now part of the A5). Copyright Keith Evans. Reused under Creative Commons Licence from Geograph.

It is said that Queen Victoria (then Princess Victoria) stopped at Cernioge for tea in 1832, but within a few years the inn would be closed. Probably Cernioge had gradually been losing business to other hostelries including The Saracen’s Head at Cerrigydrudion.

The building was a farmhouse when George Borrow visited the area in 1854.

I walked on briskly over a flat uninteresting country, and in about an hour’s time came in front of a large stone house. It stood near the road, on the left-hand side, with a pond and pleasant trees before it, and a number of corn-stacks behind. It had something the appearance of an inn, but displayed no sign. As I was standing looking at it, a man with the look of a labourer, and with a dog by his side, came out of the house and advanced towards me.

“What is the name of this place?” said I to him in English as he drew nigh.

“Sir,” said the man, “the name of the house is Ceiniog Mawr.”

“Is it an inn?” said I.

“Not now, sir; but some years ago it was an inn, and a very large one, at which coaches used to stop; at present it is occupied by an amaethwr – that is a farmer, sir.”

Should you be passing along the A5 it is worth stopping to have a look at this remarkable remnant of coaching days.

View of the Snowdon range from Cernioge, engraving by Josiah Wood Whymper c1875. From the collections of National Library of Wales.

View of the Snowdon range from Cernioge, engraving by Josiah Wood Whymper c1875. From the collections of National Library of Wales.

References

  • Christopher Rawson’s travel journal 1817-1822, WYAS: Calderdale, WYC:1525/6/5/2.
  • Anne Lister’s diary, 1822, WYAS: Calderdale, SH: 7/ML/E/6.
  • WH Rawson’s advice on Welsh roads sent to A Lister, received 4 July 1822, WYAS: Calderdale, SH: 7/ML/117.
  • George Borrow, Wild Wales: Its people, language and scenery, first published 1862.
  • Jamie Quartermaine, Barrie Trinder & Rick Turner Thomas Telford’s Holyhead Road: The A5 in North Wales, Council for British Archaeology Research Report 135, 2003 (thanks to Peter Wakelin for bringing this book to my attention)
  • British Listed buildings.
  • For information on Welsh inns see here.

Travel and Identity: A Highland Woman at ‘Home’

By Georgia Vullinghs, MSc Graduate, University of Edinburgh

The Doune, Rothiemurchus, 'Highland Home' of Elizabeth Grant, with all the comforts and luxuries a Highland Gentleman and his family required (Wikimedia Commons).

The Doune, Rothiemurchus, ‘Highland Home’ of Elizabeth Grant, with all the comforts and luxuries a Highland Gentleman and his family required (Wikimedia Commons).

Increasingly, research about travel and tourism has been concerned with identity. Many diasporic Scots use visits ‘home’ to Scotland as a way to cultivate, perform, and maintain their Scottish identity. My research has focussed on elite Highland women from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It questions how, despite their absence from Scotland for the majority of their lives, they identified as Scottish and more particularly, Highland. Visits to Scotland had the potential to play an important role for these women in displaying their varied Scottish identities. The activities and culture the women engaged in while visiting help to reveal the nature of that identity. While often the women felt they were engaging with Highland life and acting out their identity, these experiences were very much shaped by the broader factors of their lives as ‘British’ elite women, and thus at times appear rather romanticised.

Four women from varying backgrounds were chosen as case studies for this research. Lady Louisa Stuart (1757-1851) was the youngest daughter of the infamous 3rd Earl of Bute. She grew up in England and it was not until she had independence as an adult that she began to visit Scotland on a regular basis. Even then, Lady Louisa never returned to the family seat. Next, Georgina, Duchess of Bedford (1781-1853), daughter of the 5th Duke of Gordon. Georgina was born and raised in the Highlands but, as a result of her aristocratic status, socialised in London from a young age. Her marriage to the Duke of Bedford consolidated her life in England, yet she continued almost annual visits to the Badenoch region until her death. The famed Elizabeth Grant (1797-1886), notable for her writings as a nineteenth century Highland woman, including ‘Memoirs of a Highland Lady’, came from the same region. Born in Edinburgh, Grant lived in London, continuing to visit Rothiemurchus for seasonal visits, before returning to Rothiemurchus and Edinburgh to live in 1812. She left Scotland permanently, to return only as a visitor, in 1827, when her family relocated to India where she met her Irish husband. Finally, Lady Aberdeen, daughter of Baron Tweedmouth also grew up in London. Annual trips to Glen Affric as a child helped to cement a powerful relationship with the Highlands, which she continued as an adult. While the experiences of these women do collectively provide an insight into how Scottish identity could be cultivated and performed by the increasingly absent Highland elite women through visits, overall, the extent to which this was done very much depended on their individual status.

Lady Louisa Stuart at her writing desk (Wikimedia Commons).

Lady Louisa Stuart at her writing desk (Wikimedia Commons).

Like other visitors to Scotland, for these women, appreciation and exploration of the landscape was a key theme of visits. The romanticisation of Highland landscape in particular was an important factor in the growth of popularity of Scotland as a destination for travellers and tourists. The ability to appreciate this landscape was a particularly elite trait, found in the experiences of all four women but most obviously in Lady Louisa’s. To an extent, this made them outsiders, able to step back from the often harsh realities of survival in the Highlands. However, it also had the potential to help these women feel more Scottish. In the ways they engaged with the landscape – navigated the hills and rivers, and endured the outdoors better than others – Grant, Georgina, and Lady Aberdeen could cultivate a sense of belonging.

The material culture these women engage with also reveals much about their experiences of Scotland and their sense of identity. Some of the women were able to find pleasure in their interpretation of a simple Highland lifestyle. They abandoned the materiality of their everyday lives, possible due to concepts of the ‘noble savage’. In the most extreme case, Georgina visited small huts in the glen, some with turf rooves! However, it should be noted that although simple, these weren’t without comforts such as servants and a roaring fire to keep warm by, as well as plenty of food and entertainment. In contrast, Lady Louisa was not able to romanticise this lifestyle, and still viewed such homes as part of the poverty rife in Scotland during her lifetime. From Lady Louisa and Grant’s experiences we find that in reality, late eighteenth-century Scottish elite were making considerable effort to ‘improve’ their houses practically and aesthetically, to make them more luxurious and comfortable, according to wider British elite standards. House surroundings also changed considerably. Farm buildings and estate offices were moved out of sight, revealing how the ‘traditional’ role of the Highland laird’s house did not fit with new elite aesthetic principles. This shows how, by the end of the eighteenth century, many elite Highland women lived a life detached from their estates, as the experience of all four women reveal.

This is also reflected in their relationship with Highland clothing. While Georgina abandoned fashionable dress while staying in Badenoch, dressing in the local peasant fashion as a way to display her Highland identity, she was only able to do so because of her elevated social status. This was also a practice reserved for the Highlands. In contrast, Lady Louisa and Grant’s experiences reveal that the elite Highland woman’s aspirations to the fashionable continued while she was living in the Highlands, as well as the difficulties they faced in doing so. Grant’s adult wardrobe was made up of items sent from Glasgow and London. She wore the same dresses in Rothiemurchus as she did in Edinburgh in order to maintain the appearance of an elite woman. This attire, unsuitable for participating in household tasks, reveals how the Highland lady no longer engaged with industry on the estate. However, we do find change by the end of the nineteenth century. The kilt was an important way for Lady Aberdeen’s son to express his Scottish identity, an attire which was acceptable in wider British elite circles by this time, reflecting Scotland and the Highland’s changed place within Britain. Furthermore, as a child, Lady Aberdeen enjoyed weaving shawls while she was in the Highlands. This childhood hobby formed the basis of a real interest for Lady Aberdeen in Scottish craft industries. She was heavily involved in the promotion of such industries, and displayed products at exhibitions across the world. However, while to some extent this stemmed from and reflected her sense of Highland identity, it was also a factor of her role as an elite British woman of her time, influenced by Liberal politics, the Arts and Crafts Movement, and the Celtic Revival.

Lady Aberdeen, dressed in one of her famous 'Celtic', craft-inspired dresses. This was her way of engaging with 'Highland' material culture. (Wikimedia Commons)

Lady Aberdeen, dressed in one of her famous ‘Celtic’, craft-inspired dresses. This was her way of engaging with ‘Highland’ material culture. (Wikimedia Commons)

Finally, music and dance had the potential to be particularly nationalistic for these women. It formed an important part of the entertainment for all four women during visits and could be used to perform their Highland identities. For all four women, music – Gaelic song in particular – and dance were closely associated with the Highland character. However, the extent to which they really understood the songs is debatable. Once again, we find a rather romanticised take on Highland life and culture which allowed Scots songs to be incorporated into the cult of sensibility. Furthermore, while these women enjoyed Scottish culture, they were limited as to when they could do so. For example, as a young girl at a party in London, Grant was reprimanded for dancing some Highland steps. These were not considered suitable for the occasion, obviously an activity reserved for when she was “at home in the Highlands”.

Overall, it may be argued that visits to Scotland and the Highlands did have the potential to play an important role in the performance of Scottish identity for these elite women once their lives pulled them away from their ‘native lands’. However, their experiences depended very much on their personal circumstances. Visits were overall a temporary manifestation of Scottish identities shaped by their outlook as members of the British elite.

Have a look at this interactive map for some more details on these women’s travels.

Wish you were here: Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Marshall

Kirsty Anne McHugh (Centre for Advanced Welsh and Celtic Studies)

I thought of you all on Christmas day: after dinner I imagined you sitting round the table, and even had the vanity to think you might be drinking my health; I thought of you in the evening surrounding Mrs P’s cheerful fire; and when I thought of this I longed to be one of that happy circle.
Dorothy Wordsworth to Jane Pollard, 28 December 1788

View of Ullswater. For most of the year the Marshalls lived at their house on the outskirts of Leeds, but from 1810 they spent their summers in the Lake District.

View of Ullswater. For most of the year the Marshalls lived at their house on the outskirts of Leeds, but from 1810 they spent their summers in the Lake District.

Over the Christmas vacation I was able to go and look at the spot on the banks of Ullswater where the Marshalls build a house in 1815.

Over the Christmas vacation I was able to go and look at the spot on the banks of Ullswater where the Marshalls build a house in 1815.

In my doctoral research I am exploring the interactive nature of tour writing and how the intended audience can shape a travel account. In the last few months I have been increasingly intrigued by the friendship between John and Jane Marshall (nee Pollard) and William and Dorothy Wordsworth, specifically in relation to their tours of Scotland of 1803 and 1807.

In a letter of September 1807 Jane tells Dorothy how they have had her and her brother in their thoughts throughout their tour of Scotland, because of the account they have had of William and Dorothy’s 1803 tour. At the close of the letter, she assures Dorothy that of all the scenes they have encountered, nothing brings them more pleasure than thinking on the cottage at Grasmere and its inhabitants. Dorothy’s reply responds in a similar vein, agreeing that Roslin and Melrose are fine structures, but that places shared with friends are so much more dear to her – ‘but oh! how much more delight have I in the remembrance of Bolton in its retired valley, and the venerable Kirkstall!’

What struck me about this exchange is the way in which place is a means through which they can affirm their friendship, and share experiences even though they may not be together.

The ruins of Bolton Abbey, Wharefdale, Yorkshire, not far from where I live

The ruins of Bolton Abbey, Wharefdale, Yorkshire, not far from where I live

The River Wharfe at Bolton Abbey

The River Wharfe at Bolton Abbey

Jane Marshall was Dorothy Wordsworth’s oldest friend, and their childhood in Halifax was something Dorothy looked back on fondly. However, from 1787 when the orphaned Dorothy left Yorkshire to live with her grandparents in Penrith, until the summer of 1807 it is probable that Jane and Dorothy met only once. Whereas the above correspondence was written not long after the friends had seen each other, Dorothy’s early letters to Jane (I have located none of Jane’s letters to Dorothy) were written in quite different circumstances.

Her letters were written to someone who was incredibly important to her, but also someone distant because she had not spoken to or set eyes on Jane for years. It brought home to me how reliant family and friendship networks were on the exchange of letters in the eighteenth century.

In their correspondence prior to their reunion in the 1790s, the places which Dorothy and Jane inhabit together can only be imagined or remembered. One particularly poignant letter of 23 May 1791 (when Dorothy is living with relatives in Norfolk), reads:

Oh! Jane how much pleasure do I expect from your society when our meeting takes place! how delightful will it be to look back upon those days which passed together, without any troubles but such as the promise of an hour’s play together would at once alleviate! We shall retrace the adventures of the baby-house, the little parlour (I now fancy I see Harriot’s shop fixed at one end of the long window-seat) the croft, the ware house, nay, even the back kitchen…I often figure to myself my old companions whom I left mere girls become women. You, I fancy tall and rather slender; Ellen I suppose, is not much altered, but Harriot, I think must, I fancy her a smart looking girl with a light, slender person…I think I must be nearly as tall as Patty Ferguson, certainly not quite so tall, I believe, however, I am much grown since my aunt saw me; if Mr Griffith comes to Forncett he shall have my weight and measure; you then can form an idea of me, and if he goes to Halifax before he visits Forncett pray send me yours, but indeed, by letter you may tell me your weight.

I have very much enjoyed reading Dorothy Wordsworth’s letters to Jane, and it has helped make real various aspects of the somewhat abstract academic discourse about space and place and borders.

As readers of historical texts we are also endeavouring to cross spatial and temporal realms to understand the lives of people in the past. The Curious Travellers project it seems to me, by encouraging people to walk in Pennant’s footsteps, offers us the opportunity to explore that dialogue between past and present.

References/further reading:

Clare Brant, Eighteenth-century letters and British culture, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006
Susan E. Whyman, The Pen and the People: English letter writers 1660-1800, Oxford University Press, 2009
Peter J. Manning, Reading Romantics: texts and contexts, Oxford University Press, 1990
Ernest de Selincourt, The Letters of William and Dorothy Wordsworth: the early years 1787-1805, Oxford: Clarendon press, 1967 (2nd ed)
Wordsworth in Yorkshire http://www.michaelmelvin.co.uk/stanzastones/wordsworth.html
Wordsworth Trust https://wordsworth.org.uk/home.html
Carol Ann Duffy, Dorothy Wordsworth’s Christmas Birthday, 2014 (a beautifully illustrated poetic reimagining of Christmas Day 1799) https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/dec/20/-sp-dorothy-wordsworths-christmas-birthday-carol-ann-duffy-a-christmas-poem

‘Now the country becomes suddenly Welsh’: John Malchair of Oxford, an artist and musician in 1790s Wales

Mary-Ann Constantine

for Liz Fleming-Williams, who introduced us to JM.

Back in 2013 the National Library of Wales held a memorable exhibition of Welsh landscape art. Among many familiar names, from J.M.W Turner and J.C. Ibbetson to Kyffin Williams, was one I didn’t know: John Malchair. The images – striking sketches of houses on roads winding through the hills – pulled me over to his corner of Oriel Gregynog. It took a minute or so before I realized that these were pictures from the 1790s; there’s something oddly modern about the sweep and boldness of the lines done in graphite, often with a watercolour wash. The exhibition also had a display case containing Malchair’s notes on the tour he made to Wales in 1795, written in his quirky spelling and open at July 28th:

‘The buildings are peculiar, Rude Rough and ragged, the people are so too.’ ‘Dinas Mouthwy – July 30 – 1795’ from John Malchair of Oxford, p. 129 (hereafter JM).

‘Now the country becomes suddenly Welsh and we enter a region of Mountains, here English is an acquired language and much wors spoaken than French in England, by no means so common…The trees are small and twisting often More picturesque than luxuriant timber trees’.

He noted too, the vivid greens at the base of the mountains: ‘Moss crumbled over with fragments of rock that continually role from the topp and are verry favourable to the painters touch as are also the summits on account of theire cragginess’.

One aspect of our project is exploring how our travel writers capture the experience of movement through landscape: not just the practical struggles of mud and pitted roads, but the continual shifts of light, colour and perspective. Malchair’s drawings are wonderfully kinetic. In one of my favourite sketches, ‘Dinas Mouthwy, 1795’ the movement is in many directions: water flows across a road which leads us up past the out-of-kilter cottages to the sharp slope of the hill. Catherine Hutton, travelling from Birmingham that same way a year later, evokes something similar in words:

 

Our road was a terrace cut on the side of the northern range, generally fenced with a hedge, now and then without a fence, sometimes on bridges thrown over streams, which poured down from the mountains across our road, and sometimes through them; while, swelled by the rain into little torrents, they tumbled in cascades into the river below

(NLW MS 19079C, 5)

Malchair also did many pictures of Oxford – its buildings and back-streets, full of fascinating glimpses of daily life – and his work was gathered together for an exhibition in the Ashmolean Museum in 1998. John Malchair of Oxford, Colin Harrison’s beautifully-produced catalogue with essays by Susan Wollenberg and Julian Munby, is full of insights and information, and includes a full transcription of the Welsh tour notebook cited above. As these writers acknowledge, the rediscovery of Malchair was largely due to the pioneering work of Ian Fleming-Williams, a Constable scholar who built up a large personal collection of Malchair’s drawings. This sweeping view of ‘Moel-y-Ffrydd’ near Llanymawddwy was donated by Fleming-Williams to the Tate in 1997:

‘It is not difficult here to account for the Sublimity, the objects are vast and very uncommon to Eyes that are only wont to contemplate the beauties of a rich farming country’ JM p.130 John Malchair, ‘Moel-y-Frydd 1795’, Tate Gallery, donated by Ian Fleming-Williams. Available under a CC-BY-NC-ND 3.0 (Unported) licence: http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/malchair-moel-y-ffrydd-t07011

In 1795 Malchair travelled with the Revd George Cooke, a Fellow of Oriel who had an interest in geology; perhaps as a result of their conversations the images of landforms from this tour have an especially energetic intensity. The pair stayed for nine days exploring the country around at Dinas Mawddwy, where Malchair sketched intimate scenes of huts and pigs and tumbledown cottages as well as the grander mountainscapes, before moving on to Barmouth, where they were further entranced by the play of light and weather along the coast.

Malchair the musician was not idle in Wales. As Margaret Dean-Smith has shown, he had a keen interest in traditional tunes, which he would pick up from all manner of sources – in manuscript collections or from buskers, beggars, and even from the whistling of passers-by on the streets of Oxford. He was especially interested in the idea of ‘national’ song, a subject which – partly in the wake of the success of Robert Burns – became increasingly popular in Britain the early 1800s. His manuscript collections in the Royal College of Music and elsewhere (currently the focus of a PhD dissertation: see bibliography) contain hundreds of tunes which he defines as ‘Scottish’, ‘Irish’ and ‘Welsh’. Of the latter, we know from notes by his disciple William Crotch that some were collected on his tours: ‘written down by Mr Malchair, who heard it sung in Harlech Castle’ (JM, 41). Some of Malchair’s own compositions clearly drew on traditional songs, and this little piece, ‘Farewell to Dinas Mawddwy’ records his affection for a place that, evidently, had moved him very deeply indeed.  [We are currently recording the tune which will be available here]

Bwlch y Groes, north-east of Dinas Mawddwy: ‘In this scene the dreary and the comfortable are happely blended, Mr Pennant calls Bulch y Gross one of the most terrible passes in north Wales’, JM 131-32. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. http://www.wikigallery.org/wiki/painting_389759/John-Baptist-Malchair/Bwlch-Y-Groes,-North-Wales

 

Short Bibliography:

[JM] Colin Harrison, with Susan Wollenberg and Julian Munby, John Malchair of Oxford: Artist and Musician (Ashmolean Museum, Oxford 1998)

Margaret Dean-Smith, “The Preservation of English Folk Song and Popular Music: Mr. Malchair’s Collection and Dr. Crotch’s Specimens” JEFDSS 7:2 (1953): 106–11

For Alice Little’s current research into Malchair’s music: http://alicelittle.co.uk/research/dphil.php

 

Alex Deans, Curious Travellers in SSL 42:2

Nigel Leask and I were pleased to be able to contribute an account of the Curious Travellers project to the symposium on ‘Spatial Humanities and Scottish Studies’ in the latest issue of Studies in Scottish Literature. As the journal editors Patrick Scott and Tony Jarells note in their preface, these symposia are a great way of bringing together short and focused pieces of (often ongoing) research under a particular theme, while reflecting a wide range of disciplines and approaches – made all the more valuable by the fact that SSL is an open access publication.

Reading the other pieces – thought-provokingly framed by Eric Gidal and Michael Gavin’s  introduction –  I was struck by both the similarities and divergences in the approaches which different projects are taking to the so-called “spatial turn” in the humanities. The use of technology is a common theme, and the digital methods being used by Curious Travellers are discussed in our article, including our plans for manuscript tours of Scotland and Wales and Pennant’s correspondence, and some background on our mapping collaboration with the National Library of Scotland – which has gone live since the issue went to press earlier this autumn.

Other projects in the symposium are investigating more analytic, Geo-spatial Information System or GIS-based approaches, which allow researchers to produce “deep” or (my preference) “thick maps” of the ways in which culture and place interact, or to model complex social, lexical, historical and environmental information within a common geographical frame. As in the case of Murray Pittock and Craig Lamont’s project, one advantage here seems to be that of making a great variety of histories and materials accessible to a broader audience, by opening them up to a medium that more and more of us – through our reliance on constantly available online mapping services via tablets and smartphones – are now used to engaging with on a daily basis. On the other hand, the contribution from the spatial humanities team at Lancaster University reflects on the difficulties of translating between page and landscape – even writing about place, it turns out, isn’t straight-forwardly amenable to spatial analysis.

Another common theme in this symposium seems to be the sense in which the spatial humanities – while novel in their current, primarily digital mode – owe their origins in part to a very eighteenth- and nineteenth-century sense of the ways in which culture and place are mutually formative, whether through language, economy, ecology, or any number of other factors. Perhaps this is nowhere more evident than in the travel writing of the period, but it’s also the case that no other genre seems to draw out the complexities involved in traversing, experiencing and representing place and space quite so vividly. The question of what it means to read literary works through a spatial lens is always mirrored by that of how past writers thought about the relationship between texts and places, and there doesn’t seem to be a simple answer to either; of course, its precisely this complexity that makes it so exciting to be involved in this field as it continues to grow and develop.