Bending our course down the Wye we pass a promontory, from whence the
eastern extremity of the abbey presents itself; but here all is flat and
uninteresting, compared with the scene we have just quitted. In this
point of view the tottering and solitary pillar, remaining in the centre
of the great east window, appears to be scarce able to support itself;
thus circumstanced it is fortunate for the antiquary that very little of
the fabric depends upon it, or a great part of that venerable structure
would, ere long, inevitably come to the ground with it.
We were soon deprived of any further view of this elegant remain by a
strong wind and tide, which quickly hurried us down the stream; but
scenes like these, on which the mind has long dwelt in pleasing
meditation, are not easily effaced by a mere change of place: they on
the contrary are rather cherished by the preceding scenery, by the gloom
of the rock, the repose of the meadow, and the stillness of the gliding
stream; nor do they disappear till we mix in the busy hum of men, till
we plunge into the more tumultuous scene of human life and human
passions.
Having passed much beautiful scenery nearly of the style and character
of that which we witnessed about Tintern, here we again discover the
eastern bank of the Wye screened with rocky substances, not unlike those
at Cold-well. These substances are called the Thorn, and Black Cliffs.
The water at this place is much discoloured, and acquires a thick and
clayey hue, evidently produced by the influx of the tide, which is here
very visible, and which from the Severn sea, and the low marshy land on
its shores is so impregnated with mud, and imports it in such quantities
as to foul the pearly tresses of the Wye, even to a degree of deformity.
——“The torrent flood,
“Thy molten chrystal fills with mud,
“Tho’ thy lofty head be crown’d
“With many a tower and terras round.”
We now approach the rocks that terminate the grounds of Persfield; these
are tremendous projections hanging over the river, and in their form
resemble so many bastions of a castle. They are twelve in number, and
bear the name of the Twelve Apostles; a thirteenth in the same range is
terminated by a slender stone about five feet in height, which is called
St. Peter’s Thumb. In this spot we are struck with a wonderful
reverberation of sound, such as must afford a curious speculation to the
philosophical inquirer into the nature and properties of air, and that
conformation of earth and rock and woody accompaniment, which are
necessary to produce with such continued repercussion, an echo so clear
and distinct. A little below these rocks a person, some years ago, fell
unhurt from an immense height into the woods on the margin of the river.
This almost miraculous interposition on his behalf, wrought very little
effect upon his life and manners, for so hardened and incapable was he
of being acted upon, either by the recollection of mercies or the dread
of punishment, that, having not long after attended the execution of a
friend for a robbery, he conceived in his mind the plan of a similar
crime, perpetrated it, and suffered the same fate. So that his rescue
from a watery grave seems to have served little purpose beyond that of
verifying the adage, that he, who is destined to the halter, may brave
the precipice and the flood. A little lower down the river we pass the
rocks, from the sudden and precipitate fall they present, called the
Lover’s Leap. Had he not happily been caught by the shrubbery planted
below, Mr. Morris the former possessor, had here fallen a sacrifice to
his passion for those simple charms of nature, which he explored and
dressed with a correspondent taste. He added to their variety without
lessening their interest. Since that time a professed improver has been
let in, and the consequence, not the _natural_ consequence, has been
that with his roller and shears, insipid uniformity has identified the
ever changeful scene; and the slime of this snail has scarce less
deformed its dells, its craggy hills, and its groves, than has the mud
of the Severn that polluted its waters. To prevent any such accident in
future this gentleman soon after fixed a rail on the edge of the
precipice. By a steep and unpleasant path, the traveller, from these
rocks, has sometimes ascended to the grounds of Persfield. A circular
bend of the river now displayed to our view the noble ruin of Chepstow
castle. The situation of this venerable building is striking. It is
built on the summit of an immense perpendicular rock, into which it
appears rivetted, or rather to be growing out of it; as from the top of
the battlements, down to the base of the cliff on the margin of the
river, it is one continued range of precipice.
This majestic remain, is from the present point of view peculiarly
interesting, and in its effect highly picturesque. The ancient Gothic
entrance partly in ruin, the irregular breaks and prominencies in the
general form of the building, which is a mixture of the Norman and Saxon
style, are in many parts overgrown with large clumps of ivy and
variegated shrubs, sometimes beautifully clustered among the fragments
of the castle, and again falling down and enriching the white and awful
cliff below.
[Illustration:
_S. Ireland Del^t._
_Chepstow Castle & bridge._
]
The adjoining bridge from its height, singular construction, and
relative situation to the castle has a romantic air, and is well
calculated to give general effect to the landscape.
On the opposite shore, the different forms of the cliffs and rich
verdure with which they are cloathed, and the masts of the vessels from
behind the bridge breaking on the eye, complete the scene, and render it
altogether a happy group of objects for the pencil. This bridge is built
with timber, and the boards which compose the floor, are so laid as to
yield to the water and play some inches. It is seventy feet above the
surface of the river, and is so constructed in consequence of the
impetuosity of the tide, which, just as it rushes in from the Severn
sea, being here suddenly confined within a narrow channel, is frequently
known to have risen forty feet. As it divides the counties of Gloucester
and Monmouth, it is kept in repair at their joint expence.
According to some accounts, Chepstow castle appears formerly to have
occupied a considerable space of ground, not less it is presumed than
five acres. About six hundred years since, it was rebuilt by Gilbert
Earl of Pembroke, surnamed Strongbow. This Gilbert was second son of
Gilbert de Clare, from him it came after various grants to Charles
Somerset, a son of the third Duke of Beaufort, afterwards Earl of
Worcester, and from him it descended to the present duke.
The premises have been for many years under a lease for lives, the last
of which is at present in 1794, an aged woman who shews the castle in
which she was born. Amongst the several buildings still remaining, the
chapel demands attention, it is spacious and has been much ornamented.
Twelve large niches with semicircular arches over them, are formed in
the walls. They have seats which are chair high above the floor. The
uses to which they were appropriated is not clearly ascertained. The
grand entrance on the east side, is a noble and venerable remain of the
Norman stile of building, it stands between two lofty towers, and is in
a good state of preservation. Much of the Roman wall, in the north west
angle of the chapel, appears in the courses of bricks between the stone
facings.
In the civil dissentions of the last century, this castle was considered
of great importance to both parties, and a garrison was continued here
after the restoration. A spacious apartment is still shewn in which
Henry Martin, one of the king’s judges, was confined a sole prisoner for
twenty seven years.
The life of this remarkable man was spared, he having surrendered
himself conformable to the proclamation issued, when that event took
place. His estates in Berkshire, which were considerable, were
sequestered, and here he resided till 1680, when according to Anthony
Wood, he died suddenly while at dinner, at the age of 78. He was buried
in Chepstow church, and on his tomb stone were engraved the following
lines. As they are now obliterated and are said to have been written by
himself, they may be thought worth preserving. The Epitaph is an
Acrostic.
HERE, SEPTEMBER THE NINTH,
WAS BURIED
A TRUE ENGLISHMAN,
Who in Berkshire, was well known
To love his country’s freedom ’bove his own;
But being immured full twenty year,
Had time to write as doth appear.
HIS EPITAPH.
H ere or elsewhere, (all’s one to you), to me
E arth, air, or water, gripes my ghostly dust,
N one knows how soon to be by fire set free:
R eader if you an oft try’d rule will trust,
Y ou’ll gladly do and fuller what you must.
M y time was spent in serving you, and you
A nd death’s my pay, it seems, and welcome too,
R evenge destroying but itself, while I,
T o birds of prey leave my old cage and fly.
E xamples preach to the eye: care then, mine says,
N ot how you end, but how you spend your days.
Some years after its interment, by order of the then clergyman, the body
was removed to an obscure situation, that the church might not be
disgraced by containing the ashes of a regicide. Chepstow parish church,
formed a part of the old priory belonging to the Benedictine monks
founded in the reign of King Stephen. Leland says this was a cell to
Bermondsey abbey, but it does not appear to be so in the First Fruits
Office; as no rent, or pension by way of acknowledgement, is there
recorded to that abbey.
The style of building of this church is pure Norman, the arches of the
nave are circular, which are supported by square massive pillars in a
very perfect state. The entrance to the west front is in a very fine
style, of the same architecture, the proportions are just, and the
pillars and mouldings are richly decorated in the taste of that period.
As we have quoted one monumental inscription, from this ancient
receptacle of the dead, we flatter ourselves that we may without making
an obituary of this work, be permitted to contrast the two following.
The first was on a sea captain, who died in 1774.
The blusterous blasts, and Neptune’s waves,
Have tost me to, and fro;
In spite of all, by God’s decree
I harbour here below.
Here I am anchor’d with many of our fleet,
But we shall sail again, our Admiral Christ to meet.
The following is on John Davis, a jockey of this town, who seems
determined in his technical phrases to outdo, not only the captain, but
to distance all that may hereafter be said on the subject.
’Tis vain to trust to human strength, or art,
When God doth strive, ye will small aid impart
As my mishap, ’tho skill’d in riding, shows
That the Almighty, horse and rider throws.
Be then prepar’d, my friends, since accidents
May in an instant hurry you from hence.
From Chepstow by a very pleasant ride we visited the charming grounds of
Persfield, a spot where nature has been uncommonly profuse, not only in
the disposition of the beautiful slopes and waving lawns that enrich and
compose the grounds themselves, but in the extensive and diversified
scenery that strikes the eye, from every point of view. I have here
selected from amidst a profusion of magnificent and fascinating objects,
rarely to be met with in this or any other country, a very extensive
sketch that includes Chepstow castle, and the town beneath, together
with the rocky cliffs designed as it were by nature to bound the course
of the Wye, whose beautiful meandering extends for a distance of three
miles, and then loses itself in the greater waters of the Severn. Here
——“Pleas’d _Vaga_ pour’d
His sea green streams, deep murmuring beneath
The hanging bowers and glittering rocks; while wide
The rougher Severn stretch’d his arm, bestrew’d
With shining sails, to the capacious ocean.”
This enchanting scene is bounded by the Gloucestershire and
Somersetshire hills, and affords a subject for landscape, more sublime
and picturesque than the most fertile imagination can conceive. An
attempt to describe every beautiful object that presents itself within
the circuit of these grounds, would in the recital be tedious and
uninteresting, I shall therefore only observe, that the scenery on this
spot is perpetually diversified, and nature every where rises beyond the
reach of art. The enclosed view, though I may in my attempt have merited
the praise of fidelity, will I hear convey but a faint and unimpressive
idea of that scenery which is adapted only to the talent and pencil of a
Claude Lorraine.
In contemplating this magnificent and stupendous assemblage of nature
and art, we are led as it were instinctively to deplore the melancholy
reverse of fortune, that saddened the last days of the original designer
and owner of this charming spot; of him whose elegant mind and
munificent hand could, out of the rude uncultivated mass, project and
raise to the highest state of perfection a monument of taste, that must
remain an ornament to his country.
We could not take our leave of Chepstow, without giving a retrospective
view of the castle, and its tremendous rocky base and distant scenery
over which we had just passed. The romantic bridge and busy scene on the
water, all combined to aid the landscape, and to give a further
illustration of this fascinating place. Chepstow, the grand and central
port of the commerce of our river, is here finely displayed by the
throng that lined the wharf, and the grove of trading vessels through
which we passed. The lofty and high impending screen of rocks, on either
side the river, rendered our passage down the stream delightful. Amongst
these the red rocks and Hardwick cliff are peculiarly attractive, in the
latter many large apertures have been dug that are passable, and extend
forty, or fifty yards from the entrance, and in the vicinity is a
remarkable fine well of water, that gives the name of Thornwell to a
beautiful range of woods, adjoining the termination of Hardwick cliff.
The annexed view of what are called the Red Rocks, will give a general
idea of the face of the river, in our passage down to the mouth of the
Wye, where we found the tide uncommonly rapid, and where if the wind is
brisk, the waters are troublesomely rough.
It is here matter of much regret, that we cannot with fidelity introduce
the distant Severn, which would have rendered the view more complete. At
Ewen’s rocks, about a mile below, that noble river breaks extensively on
the eye, and presents a beautiful scene, but it is altogether an
inferior one to that before us.
At the conflux of the Wye, or in the vicinity of Beachley, (the old
passage house) the Severn is seen to greater advantage. The distant
hills of Gloucestershire and Somersetshire, beautifully intersecting
each other in varied tints, while intervening objects of castles,
villages, and mansions of the wealthy and great on the opposite shore,
richly diversify and compleat the whole. The distance, composed of
Walton hills about ten miles below, breaks beautifully on the eye, and
forms a happy termination across King’s-road and the Bristol channel.
From hence the groups of vessels that are constantly moored near the
mouth of the Bristol Avon, although at a distance of near three miles,
are perfectly distinguishable. The immense quantity of shipping
perpetually passing and repassing before the eye, convey a magnificent
idea, both of that celebrated mart of our country, the city of Bristol,
and of the extensive commerce of the Severn, a river, memorable and
sacred almost as the wizard Dee in ancient song; a torrent before the
grandeur of whose flood, our more beautiful Wye feels diminished and
submits her humbler and tributary stream, a torrent whose guardian
spirit we shall at another, and we trust no very distant day hope to
invoke, and with
“Shepherds in the festival of peace
“Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,
“And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream
“Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.
FINIS.
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Page Changed from Changed to
24 not only against every principal not only against every principle
of utility to of utility to
87 licence in the twentieth of licence in the twentieth year of
Edward the Edward the
96 in human life, give an interest in human life, give an interest
to this ef- to this effusion
113 of its goal. Built in a lofty of its gaol. Built in a lofty
and healthy spot and healthy spot
113 As our goals increase in As our gaols increase in
magnitude, it is magnitude, it is
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