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.
[Picture: 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 aera of Julius Caesar, {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.
[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.