CHEPSTOW—FINE SCENERY OF ITS VICINAGE—THE CASTLE—CHURCH, AND BRIDGE—PIERCEFIELD—CHARACTER OF THE LATE MR. MORRIS.
Upon meeting our horses at the village of St. Pierre, we proceeded towards Chepstow, and in a few minutes were surprized with a range of naked cliffs, rising in appearance from the tract of verdure before us; a venerable wood shadowed the brow of the rocks, in front of which rose a forest of masts with waving pennants. This singular combination resulted from the position of Chepstow and its port, in an abrupt hollow, inclosed by considerable heights in every direction. The whole unfolded itself like a map beneath us, as we descended to the town; an irregular-built trading place, but where the well-furnished houses and opulent establishments of many of the inhabitants engaged in business prove the success of their commercial enterprize: yet the town, having no manufactories, depends altogether on the carrying trade.
Chepstow Castle
We hastened from an excellent repast at the Beaufort Arms, to enjoy the scenery in the vicinity of Chepstow-bridge; where an assemblage of objects was disclosed, highly interesting, imposing, and beautiful. Below the bridge, and on the opposite side of the deep and rapid Wye, enlivened by numerous shipping, a series of cliffs appeared issuing from the water, whose rocky surface, warmly tinted with various hues of red and yellow, was pleasingly diversified with the vivid green of aspiring ivy, while the lofty summits were fringed with impendent oaks. This trait was highly agreeable; but directing our attention up the river, the princely ruin of Chepstow Castle, stretching along a grand perpendicular cliff, which proudly emerges from the stream; and the steep hills of Piercefield rearing their varied plantations, in leafy majesty, from the river to the clouds; were features too nobly impressive not to stamp an interest in the coldest observer. A transient gaze did not satisfy us: we paused a long time over the rails of the bridge; advanced to the opposite shores; compared the varying effect at different distances and elevations; and, as we changed our points of view, discovered fresh gleams of picturesque beauty at every movement. Nor were the leading objects of this scene less gratifying when examined in detail, than the striking coup-d’oeil of their general composition.
As we advanced toward the massive battlements and lofty turrets of Chepstow’s ancient castle, the grand entrance, a Norman arch flanked by circular towers, figured all the repulsive gloom of feudal reserve and violence; even the very knocker was emblematical of hostility; for we thundered at the portal for admission with a cannon-ball suspended by a chain. The warder of the castle did not wind his horn in reply, nor, raising himself on the ramparts, did he demand our quality and business; but a pretty smiling damsel, conjuring up all her rosy dimples, bade the gate, or rather made it, revolve on its creaking hinges, and welcomed us into the castle.Upon entering the court, our attention was somewhat divided, between the remains of the baronial hall, numerous apartments, and the kitchen, which surrounded the area; and the well-turned arm that pointed to the several objects. A number of rooms in this court are kept in repair, and form a commodious residence, which is tenanted by Mr. Williams under a lease from the Duke of Beaufort. From this we passed to the second court, now laid out as a kitchen-garden. The third court contained the chapel, a fine remnant of antiquity, possessing a greater degree of decoration than any other part of the castle; a range of niches appear within the walk of this structure, at some distance from the floor, which is said to have been filled with statues; and the mortices of beams seem to indicate, that a gallery was conducted round the room. The style of the windows and enrichments is Gothic; but the original part of the building is Norman. Indeed, a unity of design and architecture appears throughout the fundamental parts of the castle; although, as may be expected, the continual alterations and additions of successive proprietors have left us several specimens of the intermediate modes of building between the Norman foundation and the present age. Among the undecorative additions of the latter period, are the deserted works of a glass-house, and a dog-kennel. Beyond the chapel we ascended a flight of steps to the battlements, shadowed by wide branching trees of various descriptions, issuing from the moat beneath. Opposite to us, beyond the moat, appeared the low embowered ruins of the fourth and last court, separated from the principal mass of building by a drawbridge.
Returning, our fair guide conducted us to a subterraneous chamber with an engroined roof, excavated in the rock, beneath the ruin, and opening to the overhanging brow of the cliff. Here several old ivys darted from stony fissures that seemed to forbid vegetation, binding the mouldering summit of the cliff in their sinewy embrace; and, shedding their light tendrils round the cavern, embowered its aperture as they aspired in frequent volutions to the loftiest turrets of the pile. Here, and from several points in our perambulation of the ruin, we timidly looked down on the rapid Wye, rolling its swelling tide at an immense depth perpendicularly beneath us; and at other times the green waving hills of Piercefield rose in all their peculiar grandeur to our view, darkening the river with their widely projected shadows.
Before we left this baronial fortress, we did not fail to explore a large round tower in the first court, that was the ancient citadel; but is more noticed for having been the prison of Harry Martin the regicide. We entered a Gothic doorway, and, following the taper heels of our gentle conductress up a spiral staircase, visited each apartment in the tower; all of which proved spacious and commodious. [251a] Here the parliamentary colonel was confined near thirty years; but not in the “durance vile” which his sympathizing biographer represents: [251b] his family lived with him, and he had offices for his servants; he had the free range of the castle in the day-time; and, with a guard, was allowed to visit the neighbouring gentry. Even in the tottering state of royalty, on Charles the Second’s restoration, this sort of confinement was found sufficient to answer the ends of justice, and security to the ruling powers; although the republican leader, the turbulent and enterprising Harry Martin, was the prisoner; ever glorying in his principles, and declaring, that were the treason of which he had been legally convicted to be repeated, he should enter on his part without reluctance.
The building of Chepstow (or Estrighoel) Castle, although carried by some antiquaries to the Æra of Julius CÆsar, [252] appears to have taken place in the eleventh century, when William Fitzosborn, Earl of Hereford, built the castle to defend the ample possessions granted him in this quarter by William the Conqueror, his relation. His son and successor, Roger de Britolio, taking up arms against his sovereign, was deprived of his vast inheritance; and Chepstow castle became soon after transferred to the noble family of Clare. This fortress is remarkable in history for the gallant defence that it made, with a slender garrison, against a considerable force headed by Oliver Cromwell; but after a long siege it was taken by an assault, in which nearly all its defenders were sacrificed.
The church of Chepstow, situated at the extremity of the town, below the bridge, exhibits a curious specimen of Norman architecture, in the massive arches resting on piers within, and the richly ornamented mouldings of the western entrance. The tower was erected during the last century. This church formed the nave of a much larger structure which belonged to a priory of Benedictine monks, founded by the builder of the castle. Some remains of the priory walls may be traced near the church, and of several other religious buildings in different parts of the town.Chepstow Bridge is a singular structure: it was formerly entirely built with timber; but the piers of the Monmouthshire half are now constructed of stone. The flooring of this bridge, like that of many others in the county, is formed of thick planks, which are kept firm in their places by tenons, or rather wedges of wood. It is usually said, that this flooring is loose, and calculated to rise with the torrents, which sometimes swelling above the bridge would otherwise carry it away; but the fact is, that the planks are not loose: as I was informed by a workman repairing the floor, they are fastened in the manner related, in preference to nailing, that they may be more easily replaced when worn out. The tide here is reckoned to rise higher than in any other part of the world; accumulating to the height of seventy feet at particular periods; but a late examination has proved fifty-six feet to be the highest point that it has risen to during the present generation; which, though a very great rise, is not superior to what happens in some other places. The cause of this extraordinary swell proceeds from the rocks of Beachly and Aust; which, protruding far into the Severn near the mouth of the Wye, obstruct the flow of the tide, and oblige it to turn with increased rapidity into the latter river. I am informed, that the ruined chapel on a rock, near the mouth of the Wye, in the Severn, is an excellent subject for the pencil, in composition with the cliffs of Beachly and the adjacent scenery. [255]
On quitting Chepstow, and proceeding about a mile and half on the road to Monmouth, a capital lodge with iron gates and palisadoes announced the entrance of Piercefield. Eager to view this enchanting domain, the favourite resort and theme of tourists, nor less the pride of Monmouthshire, we applied at the gate for admission; when a well-grown lad made his appearance, who stared at us through the rails, with more than the usual stupidity of boys brought up at a distance from towns. Again and again, with entreaties and threats, we stated our business; but nothing could excite the gaping vacuity of his countenance, or induce him to open the gate. Rightly concluding that he was an idiot, we were returning towards the town for instructions how to act, when a venerable pate with “silver crowned” appeared at the window of the lodge, and by dint of hallooing and patience, in waiting upwards of a quarter of an hour, we had the old man at the gate. He was the boy’s grand-father; and, if intellect were hereditary, the boy might presume on his lineage with more chance of correctness than many of higher birth. The old man, after obliging us to hear a tedious incomprehensible narrative to account for his babbling attendance, at length concluded by telling us, that we could not upon any account see the grounds, as they were only shewn on Tuesdays and Fridays. This was on a Saturday; but to wait until the following Tuesday would be a tax indeed; and to proceed without seeing Piercefield a sad flaw in our tour; so we essayed with success a means which, it may be remarked, when applied in a due proportion to its object, is scarcely ever known to fail.
We rode up an embowered lane to the village of St. Arvans, and, leaving our horses at the blacksmith’s, entered Piercefield Grounds at a back gate. Here commencing a walk of three miles in length, we passed through agreeable plantations of oak, ash, and elm, to the edge of a perpendicular cliff, called the Lover’s Leap, overlooking an abyss-like hollow, whose fearful depth is softened by a tract of forest extending over the surrounding rocks. High above competition at the northern extremity of the scene rises Wynd cliff: a dark wood fringes its lofty summit, and shelves down its sides to the river Wye, which urges its sinuous course at the bottom of the glen. In one place, the river, gently curving, appears in all the breadth of its channel; in another, projecting rocks and intervening foliage conceal its course, or sparingly exhibit its darkened surface. Following the bend of the river on its marginal height, a range of naked perpendicular cliffs (the Banagor rocks) appear above the wooded hills that prevail through the scenery; of so regular a figure, that one can scarcely help imagining it the fortification of a town, with curtains, bastions, and demi-bastions. But a very leading feature is, the peninsula of Llanicut: the hills of Piercefield, here receding into a semicircular bend, watered by the river immediately beneath, are opposed by a similar concavity in the Banagor rocks: the whole forming a grand amphitheatre of lofty woods and precipices. From the opposite side descends a fertile expanse, or tongue of land, filling up the area of the circle. This singular valley is laid out in a compact ornamented farm; the richly verdant meadows are intersected by flourishing hedge-rows; while numerous trees diversify the tract, and imbower the farm-house: a row of elms shadows the margin of the river, which, skirting the base of the hills, nearly surrounds the valley.
These subjects disclose themselves in different combinations through intervals in the shrubbery which encloses the walk; and which, although selected from the nicest observations, are managed with so just an attention to the simplicity of nature, as to appear the work of her plastic hand.
The Giant’s Cave, a little further, is a passage cut through a rock. Over one of the entrances is a mutilated colossal figure, which once sustained the fragment of a rock in his uplifted arms, threatening to overwhelm whoever dared enter his retreat; but some time since the stone fell, carrying the Giant’s arms along with it; yet he continues to grin horribly, although deprived of his terrors. From this place a path, traced under the woods, descends to the bath, a commodious building concealed from outward view by impendent foliage.
Deserting for a while the course of the river, we ascend a superior eminence called the Double View, whence the different scenes that have presented themselves in detail appear in one comprehensive range. Here too a new field of prospect discloses itself, much more extensive than the former, and beautifully picturesque. The mazy Wye, with all its interesting accompaniments, passes from beneath us, through a richly variegated country, to its junction with the Severn, beyond whose silvery expanse the grand swelling shores of Somersetshire form the distance. A curious deceptio visus occurring here must not be passed over: it arises from a coincidence in the angle of vision between the embattled rocks already mentioned, and a part of the Severn; which appears to wash their summit, although in reality it is many miles distant. But the subject of the prospect from this spot is seen much more picturesquely combined as we continue our walk on a gentle descent, and catch the varying scene through apertures in the foliage; yet there is something that one would wish to add or remove, until we reach the grotto, when a picture is exhibited in the happiest taste of composition.
In this charming view from the grotto, a diversified plantation occupies the fore-ground, and descends through a grand hollow to the river, which passes in a long reach under the elevated ruin of Chepstow Castle, the town and bridge, towards the Severn. Rocks and precipices, dark shelving forests, groves, and lawns, hang on its course; and, with a variety of sailing-vessels, are reflected from the liquid mirror, with an effect that I cannot attempt to describe, and at which the magic pencil of a Claude would falter. The distant Severn and its remote shores form an excellent termination, and complete the picture.
View from Piercefield
On our visit, the rich extent of variegated woods that mantles this charming domain received an additional diversity in the endless gradations of autumnal tints that chequered their surface; while in a few places the still uniform sombre hue of the pine and larch was admirably relieved by the silvered verdure of the lightly-branching ground-ash and witch-hazel.
Highly gratified with this delightful scenery, we returned by another track through tangled shrubberies, open groves, and waving lawns, to the mansion. This edifice is constructed of free-stone, and has had two handsome wings lately added to it by Colonel Wood, the present proprietor of the estate. Although not very extensive, it has nevertheless an elegant external appearance; and, as we were informed, is fitted up internally with a taste and splendour little inferior to any of our first-rate houses in England. [261]
Remounting our horses at the village of St. Arvans, a steep ascent led over some outgrounds of Piercefield to the summit of Wyndcliff, where a prodigious extent of prospect burst upon us; comprehending at one view, not only the different scenes in the neighbourhood of Chepstow, which appeared sunk into the lines of a map, but a wonderful range over nine counties.The charms of Piercefield were created by Valentine Morris, Esq. about fifty years since; to say unfolded, may be more correct; for the masterly hand of nature modelled every feature; the taste of Mr. Morris discovered them in an unnoticed forest, and disclosed them to the world: he engrafted the blandishments of art upon the majestic wildness of the scene without distorting its original character.
Philanthropic, hospitable, and magnificent, his house was promiscuously open to the numerous visitors whom curiosity led to his improvements; but alas! by his splendid liberality, his unbounded benevolence, and unforeseen contingencies, his fortune became involved; he was obliged to part with his estate, and take refuge in the West Indies. Before he left his country, he took a farewel view of Piercefield, and with manly resignation parted with that idol of his fancy. The industrious poor around, whose happiness he had promoted by his exertions and bounty, crowded towards him, and on their knees implored the interposition of Providence for the preservation of their benefactor: tears and prayers were all they had to offer; nor could they be suspected of insincerity; for in lamenting their protector’s misfortunes they but mourned their own. In this trial he saw unmoved (at least in appearance) the widows’ and orphans’ anguish, though he was wont to melt at the bare mention of their sorrows. His firmness did not forsake him in quitting this affecting group, as his chaise drove off towards London; but having crossed Chepstow-bridge, the bells, muffled, as is usual on occasions of great public calamity, rang a mournful peal. Unprepared for this mark of affection and respect, he could no longer control his feelings, and burst into tears.
In leaving England he did not shake off his evil destiny. Being appointed governor of St. Vincent’s, he expended the residue of his fortune in advancing the cultivation of the colony, and raising works for its defence, when the island fell into the hands of the French. Government failing to reimburse his expences during his life, upon his return to England he was thrown into the King’s-bench prison by his creditors. Here he experienced all the rigour of penury and imprisonment for seven years. Of the numerous sharers of his prosperity, only his amiable wife [264] and a single friend devoted themselves to participate his misery and alleviate his distress. Even the clothes and trinkets of his lady were sold to purchase bread; and, that nothing might be wanting to fill up his cup of bitterness, the faithful partner of his cares, unable to bear up against continued and accumulating misery, became insane.
At length he recovered his liberty; and fortune, tired of this long persecution, seemed to abate somewhat of her rigour; when death put an end to his chequered career at the house of his brother-in-law, Mr. Wilmot, in Bloomsbury-square, in 1789.—The neighbourhood still sounds the praises of this worthy gentleman. Old men, in recounting his good actions and unmerited misfortunes, seem warmed with the enthusiasm of youth; and little children sigh while they lisp the sufferings of Good Mr. Morris.
