290. Robert Bloomfield to Hannah
Bloomfield, 14 June 1814*
Continuation of the trip to Dover. June 14. 1814
My dear Hannah
My last had brought you to Mrs Podevin's, where we slept as sound
as we could amidst a noisy mix'd company of all Nations and the next morning
(Friday) Weston was up first as you
might expect, and went down to the pier to take a first view of Old Ocean. Foggs
still obscured the Cliffs and rolld from the Sea in clouds, encircling the tops
of the heights and Castle. After a good breakfast we assended the Castle hill,
and found that we could gain admission without any pass but a three Shilling
piece. This is a noble eminence, and compleatly fortified. A number of 32
pounders are placed on the lower extremities of the rocks over the sea, The
weight of one of these Guns is 55 hundred pounds and a Quarter, and some odd
pounds, about the weight of 50 such men as myself. The famous long brass Gun
ridiculously calld 'Queen Ann's pocket-piece,' was given to Elizabeth by the
States of Scotland, it is 24 feet, 2 inches in length, and carries only a twelve
pound ball. It has not been fired for many years, being much decayd by age and
the weather. The highest ground within the walls of the castle is ocupied by a
very old building originally erected or strengthend at least by the Romans. We
took pains to knock out of the wall a portion of Roman Brick, which is no other
way curious than being at least 17 Centuries old. The principal building is a
large square Tower, or Keep, which is used as an immence pergola of powder and
ball. By far the most remarkable sight in the fortress is the late works
performed by that little enterprizing adventurous animal calld Man. A brick
Archway calld a 'Casemate,' decends in a sloping direction into the body of the
chalk hill, about wide enough to enable 4 men to walk a breast, after
penitrating a long way almost in the dark you find opens up on either hand being
immence Arched Rooms each capable of lodging and accomodating from 2 to 3
hundred men. The light admitted comes from perpendicular air holes, or wells'
decending from the top of the cliffs, and still more from a Gallery opening
immediately over the beach, where you look down upon the white waves, and up to
the face of the chalk which hangs overhead. Most of the Soldier here were of
that cowardly class of legal murderers calld sharpshooters, whose trade I cannot
like in spite of their use and importance.
In the Afternoon we again climb'd to the same situation, when a
Frigate came into the Harbour and fired several guns to announce the arrival of
Lord Castlereah. [1] These guns were answerd by the 24
pounders place'd on what they term the 'Drop fort,' which covers the round top
of a chalk hill where once stood 'the Devel's drop,' as Unkle Nat can tell you. We had here
a fine opportunity of remarking what I had often before noticed, the progress of
sound. When the Frigate fired we saw the flash, and a column of smoke sent
rapidly forward over the waves, and after about seven pulsations came the
report, which thunderd along amidst the the
cliffs till echo seemd tired of mocking. The 24 pounder from the Battery gave a still more powerful repercussion,—
Here I percieve I have something to fetch up in my narative. Near Gad's Hill, so famous for the exploits of Sir John Fallstaff we met a party of Cossacks, about ten or eleven, they made a most strange appearance. Their Horses
were good, but they appear'd small, the whole group of men had the appearance of
deep Melancholly, or at least of solid unalterable patience stampd upon their
countenances, till the passengers on our Coach, and others, chiefly French
prisoners, gave them a hearty cheer, at which time they answerd with a bow and a
smile,—They wore long or bushy beards, with cloaks of bearskin reaching half way
over the horse, And my companion remarkd that 'their eyes lookd like two bullets
dropd into a bunch of Moss' This you well know is in his usual stile, for never
surely was a man better calculated to fight his own way through a brickdust
world, or to make more pertinent remarks.
Saturday morning At Dover. The sea breeze made me hungry, and
toil made me sleep. This morning we pland out for an expidition to Shakespears
Cliff, and accordingly steerd in that direction, but unfortunately went by the
Sea beach, and after having spent some thousands of unnessisary steps enquired
of a Soldier whither we could get up the cliffs in any way before we reach'd our
intended spot. The Soldier answer'd yes, we might get up the cliff about a
Quarter of a mile further on. This information was correct as far as it went,
but the path upwards was extreemly steep, but did not appear dangerous at first
setting out. Having climbd about 3 parts up, we found the difficulty encrease,
and finding a firm foothold and handhold by means of strong tuffts of coarse
grass, I was force'd to rest, when Mr
Weston was about 20 yards above me declaring that we could get no
further. He laughd at my terror, placed as I was beneath him, and dreading much
more the task of decending again than hazarding my neck by climbing higher, for
to decend seem'd impossible without extreem hazard of sliping, and perhaps
rolling down to the beach. After taking breath, and blaming our selves for the
unthinking attempt, Weston again
asscended but for the life of me I dare not look at him in his attempt. He
gain'd a flat ledge of chalk where he lay down in perfect safety, and encouraged
me to persevere. My Umbrella was sorely in my way as it prevented my laying firm
hold of the grass, but as it would not do to stand there all day gazing at the
Sea below, and my companion above, I set off again, and got near enough to give
him my Umbrella, leaving my hands at liberty. In this situation he grasp'd my
wrist with both hands as he lay, and I felt as if all was finishd, and very
naturally exclaim'd 'Now I shall do, now I'm safe,' but at that moment out
tumbled the nubly chalk from under my toes and left me hanging by one hand. I
tried again, and reachd the brink. We find still other difficulties before we
reachd the top, but landed safe at last, laughing at past danger. I do not mean
to exagerate this story by telling you that we were 'about seven leagues above
the Moon,' as Miss Weston was informd on another occasion, but meerly to record
the circumstance. It was of course the lowest part of the cliff and difficult as
it is to judge of elevation of this kind I suppose we climbd about twice,
perhaps 3 times the height of our steeple at Shefford. The path from hence was pleasant and easy to the summit of
Shakespear, and along the coast to Foulkston. The white cliffs on the coast of
France were very conspicuous, though the weather was by no means propitious.
Shakespear says that 'the Surge which oer the idle pebbles chafes cannot be
heard so high' [2] but this is one of Old Willy's long stretches, for the murmer of
the waves is distinctly heard, though the depth is dreadfuly and sublimly
terrible. We amused ourselves in throwing down the largest flints we could find,
and seeing them bound and rebound against the rugged face of the prisipise. This
being the King's birth-day, a royal salute was fired from the Castle and
Batteries and ships in the Bay, and answerd by a line of troops on the Beach
consisting of a Regiment of Cavalry, (the Scotch Greys,) and several regiments
of Regulars, Sharpshooters and Militia firing a Fieu de joy, which running fire
had a fine effect, echoing along the steep shores. The whole was concluded by a
general Huzza from the whole line. Spent the evening at a sale of prints and
engravings from London in an elegant Room which is both Theatre and Assembly
Room.
Sunday morning, Rain, cold, and, wind. Rambled three miles down
the beach beneath the Castle Cliff towards the south Foreland, till stopd by a
mass of Rock which appeard to have recently fallen from above and coverd the
narrow road between the steep and the sea; filld our pockets with Seaweeds and
shells. Afternoon saw a Brig come in from Bologn firing guns in the distance.
This drew a croud to the beach and we walkd a long way under Shakespear's Cliff,
but on the arrival of a boat instead of Old Blucher, [3] she landed Count Meternich the Austrian Ambasador,
whom the croud took on their shoulders and caried against his will to the Ship
Inn. We now learnt for a certainty that the fleet under the command of the Duke
of Clarence would leave Bologn Harbor the next day.—At 6 next morning landed
amidst a roar of Cannon the Old veteran Blucher, and Barclay de Tolly, [4] Count Platoff [5] &c, but I had been too much fateagued to
start so soon, and therefore did not see them at this time. All was expectation
and suspence for half the day, the croud increased on the piers, the Batterie,
the shore, and the Rigging of the vessels. At noon the fleet was plainly seen
steering out of the Harbour of Bologn, consisting of the Impregnable, of 98 guns
bearing the Russian Eagle, the prusian colours, &c, surmounted by the
English flag at the Mainmasthead, 2, or 3 74s, Several Frigates, Sloops, and the
two Royal Yatchs—The whole bore up and anchord about a mile and half from shore.
All was silence for a considerable time, till we percievd that they had 'man'd
the Yards,' which is placing the men in a standing position
along the yards and Rigging till every vessel presented the appearance of a Comb
teeth-upwards, (there's a sublime simily for you) [includes a sketch of
this]
At this time a boat decorated with Colours was seen to put off
from the Impregnable, when the crews of nearly thirty ships gave a tumultuos and
wild shout which they continued and repeated. It is impossible to convey to you
an idea of the singularity of such a sound over the face of the Sea! Old Neptune
seem'd to have open'd his caverns and given us a salute from the depths of his
dominion, To me it had more of horror than exultation, and I shall never forget
it. Immediately after the Impregnable fired her guns on both sides, and was
followd by the 74s and every ship in sight, untill the face of the Ocean was one
hurrying mingling mass of smoke. As the boats approachd the shore almost every
gun from the Castle and Battery took up the same tumultuous roar, that we stood
amidst a scene which cannot! be described. This infernal uproar continued untill
the Emperor and King and their crews landed on the beach between lines of the
Scotch Greys and all the troops in the garison who were not employ'd at the
Batteries. They walkd through the croud, the former to Mr Fectors, a Banker, and
the King to the York Hotel. They walkd through the town several times with the D
of Clarence, Sir Charles Stewart, [6] Blucher, Platoff, and 20 other great names. A vast
number of Russian and foriegn officers paraded the town. Some of the finest men
I ever saw. The town was in a ferment during the night. Double ranks of Soldiers
from end to end of the streets, and a universal hubbub of voices, and the
strongest mixture of dresses, beards, and carriages ever seen. We did not go to
our Inn untill eleven, compleatly tired, when we heard what we deem'd a repeated
Fieu de joy fired by the troops, but found next morning that the rushing sound
had proceeded from the firing a number of Congreves Rockets on the pier. We
regreted much the loss of this sight. Slepd sound.
Tuesday Morning—I having recieved a letter from Sir Egerton Bridges, we
resolve'd to make the best use of it, and imediately went as directed to Mr
Fector, with a reasonable hope of being introduced to Alexander, who speaks good English,
or at least to be permitted to see him to more advantage. [7] Here we found ourselves dissappointed. They had
departed for London at 5 in the morning! Not to loose all the benifit of the
letter, we procured from Mr Fector a pass to the Heights and Citadel. My Brother knows that the Cliffs at
the Back of Margate Street are extreemly high and abrupt, so that no
communication could be had without much labour. To accomplish this they have
litteraly bored a hole into the base of the chalk, a large brick arch slanting
upward for perhaps 2 or 3 hundred yards, and then asscending perpendicularly by
means of 3 distinct flights of stairs circling round a large shaft or well which
admits light from the face of the Cliff above. This ascent I judge to be about
the height of the Monument, but much larger. [8] Above this is a range of Barracks
not in sight from the street and still above this building the Drop fort, with
13 24 pounders. The crown of this fort or Hill is cut round into a deep ditch
which is passd by a drawbridge. The Citadel comprehends the still higher large
round eminence between this And Old Shakespear. Here they have excavated
bomb-proof Barracks, and can lodge an army almost impregnably, scouring all the
ditches with Cannon, and defying every thing but starvation.—Returned soundly
tired and stiff.—Took places for Canterbury, where we arived at 7 on Tuesday
night.—
During our stay at Dover we had secur'd beds, which was no slight
consideration, for on Monday night we had in the house the Duke of Saxe Wiemar
and his wife, two Generals, a Colonel, and 2 Aid de Camps, most of whom had to
sat up all night and smoke, and in the morning we found the dukes attendants
devouring a cold fowl on the Landing place for want of better accommodation.—I
calld on my friends here, but Mrs Pierce has retired from business and is
succeeded by her son. We visited the tomb of Churchill the Poet, [9] —saw Mr
Kingsford, and in short filld our time up compleatly.
At Canterbury I calld on my old friend Mr Cullen, who breakfasted
with us next morning, and accompanied us to the Old Cathedrial. Triumphal Arches
of flowers were raised over the principal street, composed of whole limbs of
Laburnum and Lilack suspended on scaffold poles from house to house, but every
boddy were dissappointed and vex'd, as the Emperor had slid through the town in
private at seven in the morning.
Wednesday at 9 set off for London accompanied by foreigners,
particularly in one Coach, which containd 6 Russian Officers, who smoked their
strange pipes all the way, sending a cloud out at each window. Like old Taylor
they had 'a little Hell of their own.' On our Coach Box rode a mery old prusian
General Trasco, who smoked immoderatly.—Rochester was likewise decorated with
flags and flowers and the whole road was a scene of high holiday.—Landed safe at
the Bricklayers Arms, where an officer of the Customs examined Mr Weston's box for smuggled Lace!!!
I have since had a delightful ride home, and cannot repent of having taken this
charming holiday, for constitutionaly it has done me ten pounds worth of good,
and such a scene cannot occur again without another French revolution and
another combination of Emperors and Armies.
'Thus Time knits or spins the worsted from Life's Ball,' [10]
Yours Dear Girl, most Affectionately
Robt Bloomfield.
NB. Very large Mackerel at Dover 20 for a Shilling