DOI issue:
Nr. 208 (July 1910)
DOI article:East, Alfred: Tintern and the Wye as a sketching ground
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20970#0166
Tintern and the Wye as a Sketching Ground
After making a wide circuit of the surrounding
hills, I came to a spot which suggested to me that
I might obtain the desirable point of view which
would express the charming valley at its best if I
went to the exactly opposite point to that on which
I stood. After taking careful note of its bearings
I retraced my steps to the opposite end of the
valley. The approach to the point I wished
to reach appeared to be blocked by a tangle of
brambles and a confused mass of brushwood.
Beneath this I observed the remains of an ancient
pathway, the border of which had been at one
time a wall and now had become a confusion of
moss-grown stones covered with weeds and ferns.
This old pathway had been disused for probably
a generation, and it seemed to lead in the very
direction I had marked from the opposite hill.
Returning to the inn, the gardener with a bill-hook
cleared my passage through a kind of tunnel of
greenery formed by the
brushwood and overhang-
ing trees. Through this
somewhat damp passage I
emerged into an open
space which overlooked
the landscape. I was
almost on the spot I had
marked from the other side
of the valley, and down at
my feet nestled the roofs
of the little village. From
this prospect I could see
the blue water of the Wye
forming a large curve,
diminishing in width as it
receded in the distance,
eventually being lost to
sight behind the shoulder
of a hill.
The fields, houses and
orchards below my feet
formed an interesting
design, and the ruins of
the magnificent Abbey
shone in the afternoon sun-
shine, which bathed the
whole valley in that in-
effable glamour so difficult
to describe either by paint
or words. One is not sur-
prised that such a scene
evoked the poetic expres-
sion of Wordsworth; but
“ chepstow castle ” (water colour) by Alfred east, a.r.a. there were beauties that
toiled across ploughed fields, and tried to discover
the spot which inspired Wordsworth’s famous
poem :—
“ Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of a more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day has come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild : these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up in silence from among the trees ! ”
Many points of view suggestively fitting for the
poet’s pen did not lend themselves to the expres-
sion of those qualities sought after by the painter.
142
After making a wide circuit of the surrounding
hills, I came to a spot which suggested to me that
I might obtain the desirable point of view which
would express the charming valley at its best if I
went to the exactly opposite point to that on which
I stood. After taking careful note of its bearings
I retraced my steps to the opposite end of the
valley. The approach to the point I wished
to reach appeared to be blocked by a tangle of
brambles and a confused mass of brushwood.
Beneath this I observed the remains of an ancient
pathway, the border of which had been at one
time a wall and now had become a confusion of
moss-grown stones covered with weeds and ferns.
This old pathway had been disused for probably
a generation, and it seemed to lead in the very
direction I had marked from the opposite hill.
Returning to the inn, the gardener with a bill-hook
cleared my passage through a kind of tunnel of
greenery formed by the
brushwood and overhang-
ing trees. Through this
somewhat damp passage I
emerged into an open
space which overlooked
the landscape. I was
almost on the spot I had
marked from the other side
of the valley, and down at
my feet nestled the roofs
of the little village. From
this prospect I could see
the blue water of the Wye
forming a large curve,
diminishing in width as it
receded in the distance,
eventually being lost to
sight behind the shoulder
of a hill.
The fields, houses and
orchards below my feet
formed an interesting
design, and the ruins of
the magnificent Abbey
shone in the afternoon sun-
shine, which bathed the
whole valley in that in-
effable glamour so difficult
to describe either by paint
or words. One is not sur-
prised that such a scene
evoked the poetic expres-
sion of Wordsworth; but
“ chepstow castle ” (water colour) by Alfred east, a.r.a. there were beauties that
toiled across ploughed fields, and tried to discover
the spot which inspired Wordsworth’s famous
poem :—
“ Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of a more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day has come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild : these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up in silence from among the trees ! ”
Many points of view suggestively fitting for the
poet’s pen did not lend themselves to the expres-
sion of those qualities sought after by the painter.
142