And haunts and homes that love to claim
The patriot’s or the poet’s name--
Then hither bend thy pilgrim way,
Where <g>Taga’s</g> classic waters play;
And here thy weary heart shall find,
What soothes and renovates the mind.
[Illustration: C]<g>hepstow</g> is of Roman foundation--the _Strigulia_ of
ancient authors--and was for centuries one of the favourite strongholds
of the kingdom. By the antiquarian researches, which are now conducted
with unprecedented success and spirit, numerous vestiges of ancient
times have been brought to light, and many more, it is believed, are
reserved for the labours of archæology. The vicinity abounds in military
encampments, all more or less remarkable for the strength of their
position, and pointing to those days of border warfare when ‘might was
right,’ and the sword the acknowledged lawgiver. But in the description
of Chepstow, our observations must be restricted to the subjects
selected for illustration; and these are so correctly depicted in the
scene before us, that the reader will obtain a far more correct idea
from the delineations of the pencil, than from any description that
could be conveyed by the pen. Chepstow is supposed, and with much
probability, to have been the chief seaport of the Silurian colony, as
both Caerwent and Portscwet have for many centuries been deserted by the
sea. Where the Roman galleys once flanked the beach, landing their
freight of mailed cohorts, the modern steamer now unloads her crowded
deck of peaceful tourists, merchants, mechanics, and students of the
picturesque.
In its general appearance--in its street architecture--Chepstow still
presents some isolated features of the primitive style. Of these, the
principal is the Western Gate, of unquestionable antiquity; and, in
point of date, taking precedence of the castle itself. By a charter
given in the 16th Henry VIII., the bailiffs were to have their prison
for the punishment of offences within the Great Gate, “which they have
builded by our commandment.” This is supposed to be a renewal of the
ancient liberties of the town, granted by Howel Dhu, A.D. 940.
<g>The Church</g>, part of a Benedictine priory of Norman work, has undergone
many alterations and repairs; but repairs, in some cases, are more fatal
to the style and symmetry of ecclesiastical monuments, than the wasting
hand of time, or even the shocks of violence--for they only disfigure
what they meant to adorn; and, by deviating widely from the original
plan, lose or debase all its original beauty. The nave and aisles are
nearly all that remain of the original edifice.[2] The church has
disappeared; but the pillars which supported the central tower are
still preserved on the eastern extremity, and convey some idea of the
massive strength of the original edifice. The western porch is justly
admired for its zigzag tracery; and, in this respect, it presents one of
the finest specimens that have descended to our day, of the true
Saxo-Norman character. The church contains several monuments, not
remarkable for their style or antiquity; the chief of which is that to
the memory of the second Earl and Countess of Worcester, with their
effigies at full length, in the attitude of prayer.
The repairs and restorations lately effected in this church, were
suggested and carried out by the joint taste and liberality of the late
Bishop of Llandaff and the parishioners. The result is creditable to the
parties concerned; and here, it is to be hoped, their pious labours will
not be suffered to terminate. The original priory was an alien branch of
the Benedictine monastery of Cormeilles.
The acrostic, written upon himself by the regicide Henry Martin--first
discarded from the chancel, and latterly from the sacred enclosure, by a
former vicar--has somewhat recovered from its disgrace, by gaining
admittance into the vestry, but only on sufferance. In the town and
immediate neighbourhood are some remains of religious houses, under
various denominations; for the situation of Chepstow, presenting many
advantages for commerce, was not less favourable for monachism.
In iron times, when laws of battle were,
That weakly folk, of prowess small in fight,
The galling gyves of vassalage should bear;
Ere castle seneschals, with pale affright,
Heard the shrill horn wind of the errant knight--
A foeman firm affianced to be
To all who wrong’d the feeble of their right--
Such folk the CHURCH _let from their thraldom free_,
A deed that had not shamed the Knight of Chivalry.
_Econ. of Monast. Life._
We were told of a pleasing custom, transmitted from early times, and
still observed here, that of repairing every Palm-Sunday to the graves
of departed friends, and ornamenting them with flowers--much in the same
way as the populace of Paris repair every All Saints’ morning to
Père-la-Chaise, to scatter flowers and evergreens over the graves of
their relations.
One of the finest points of view is the centre of the new iron bridge,
comprising the castle, the vessels at anchor under the stupendous wall
of rock on which it is erected; with the lawns and groves of
Piercefield--a favourite and familiar name in the list of picturesque
tours--closing the landscape. The former bridge[3] was of prodigious
height, erected on piles. The present structure was founded in 1815;
and in the March of that year, the tide rose from low-water mark to the
remarkable height of _fifty-one feet_ two inches. The new bridge
consists of five arches, the centre one of which is one hundred and
twelve feet in span; the two adjoining arches have a span of seventy
feet, and the two outer ones a span of fifty-four feet each. It is of
massive cast-metal, resting on stone piers; and its total length is five
hundred and thirty-two feet.
The depth of the moorings in the river here is so great, that, at low
water, ships of 700 tons burthen may ride safely at anchor. The rise of
tide is from thirty to nearly sixty feet, a circumstance scarcely to be
paralleled--and caused by the extraordinary swell of water at the rocks
of Beechley and Aust, which, by protruding far into the Severn, near the
month of the Wye, obstruct the flow of tide, and thus impel it with
increased rapidity into the latter.[4] In January, 1768, according to
our local guide, it attained the height of seventy feet: its greatest
rise of late years has been fifty-six feet.
In 1634, we are informed, Colonel Sandys attempted to make the Wye
navigable by means of locks; but after much labour and expense, the
experiment failed, and the locks were removed. Every one curious in the
phenomena of natural history, has heard of the intermitting well of
Chepstow, which ebbs and flows inversely with the tide--that is, when
the tide ebbs, the well flows; and when the tide flows, the well ebbs:
when the tide is at its height, the well is nearly dry; a little before
which it begins to subside, and soon after the ebb it gradually returns.
It is neither affected by wet nor dry weather, but is entirely regulated
by the tide. It is thirty-two feet in depth, and frequently contains
fourteen feet of excellent water.
In melancholy connection with the old bridge of Chepstow, is a family
calamity which drew from the late poet Campbell an epitaph[5] worthy of
his pen. The victims by the sudden catastrophe were a lady and her two
daughters, personal friends of the poet, and for whom he entertained
sentiments of great esteem and regard. The lady and her daughters were
on a visit at Chepstow; and, after hearing sermon, went on the river in
a boat. The tide was running strong at the time; and in his attempt to
clear the centre arch of the bridge, the boatman missed his aim--the
frail bark struck against the wooden pier, and upset; and the lady and
her two daughters were carried down by the stream and lost. Their
lifeless remains were afterwards recovered, and buried in the churchyard
of Monckton, where a tomb, erected to their memory, bears the following
inscription:--
“In deep submission to the will above,
Yet with no common cause for human tears,
This stone to the lost Partner of his love,
And for his children lost, a mourner rears.
One fatal moment, one o’erwhelming doom,
Tore threefold from his heart the ties of earth--
His Mary, Margaret, in their early bloom,
And Her who gave them life, and taught them worth.
“Farewell, ye broken pillars of my fate!
My life’s companion, and my two first-born!
Yet while this silent stone I consecrate
To conjugal, paternal love forlorn--
Oh, may each passer-by the lesson learn
Which can alone the bleeding heart sustain--
Where friendship weeps at virtue’s funeral urn--
That, to the pure in heart, _to die is gain_!”
It is somewhat remarkable, that the text of Scripture which they had
just heard expounded in the parish church the same morning, was--“For to
me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Of the principal victim in
this calamity, Campbell thus speaks in a private letter to a
friend:--“We looked to Mrs. Shute as truly elevated in the scale of
beings for the perfect charity of her heart. The universal feeling of
lamentation for her, accords with the benign and simple-minded beauty of
her character.”
As the limits and object of this work do not permit us to enlarge our
remarks on the particular history of Chepstow, we now proceed to that of
the castle, whose roofless walls, and moss-clad ramparts, carry us back
to the Norman Conquest, and fill an ample page in its subsequent
history. The present structure, on a Roman or Saxon foundation, is
ascribed to William Fitzosborne, Earl of Hereford,[6] upon whom his
kinsman the Conqueror had bestowed vast possessions, in this and the
neighbouring counties, which could only be secured by sword and
stronghold. On the forfeiture of his son Roger, it passed to the Clares,
another great Norman family.
The hereditary lords of the town and castle were the old Earls of
Pembroke, of the house of Clare, the last of whom was the renowned
Richard[7] Strongbow, ‘Earl of Striguil, Chepstow, and Pembroke,’ who
died in 1176, leaving a daughter, Isabel, by whose marriage the estates
and title passed into the family of Marshall, and afterwards, by a
similar union, into that of Herbert. In the reign of Edward the Fourth,
the castle, manor, and lordship of Chepstow, were held by Herbert, Earl
of Pembroke, who was beheaded after the battle of Banbury, in 1469. By
the marriage of Elizabeth, sole daughter and heiress of William
Herbert--Earl of Huntingdon, and Lord Herbert of Raglan, Chepstow, and
Gower--it descended to Sir Charles Somerset, who was afterwards created
Earl of Worcester. It is now one of the numerous castles belonging to
his illustrious descendant, the Duke of Beaufort.
During the wars of the Commonwealth, the castle was garrisoned by the
king’s troops; but, in 1645, Colonel Morgan, governor of Gloucester, at
the head of a small body of horse and foot, entered the town without
much difficulty; and, on the 5th October, sent the following summons to
Sir Robert Fitzmaurice: “Sir,--I am commanded by his Excellency, Sir
Thomas Fairfax, to demand this castle for the use of the King and
Parliament, which I require of you, and to lay down your arms, and to
accept of reasonable propositions, which will be granted both to you and
your soldiers, if you observe this summons: and further, you are to
consider of what nation and religion you are; for if you refuse the
summons, you exclude yourself from mercy, and are to expect for yourself
and soldiers no better than Stinchcombe quarter. I expect your sudden
answer, and according thereunto shall rest your friend,--THOMAS MORGAN.”
To this summons the governor answered: “Sir,--I have the same reason to
keep this castle for my master the King, as you to demand it for General
Fairfax; and until my reason be convinced, and my provisions decreased,
I shall, notwithstanding my religion and menaces of extirpation,
continue in my resolution, and in my fidelity and loyalty to the king.
As to _Stinchcombe quarter_, I know not what you mean by it; nor do
depend upon your intelligence for relief, which in any indigence I
assure me of; and in that assurance I rest your servant,--ROBERT
FITZMAURICE.
“P.S.--What quarter you give me and my soldiers, I refer to the
consideration of all soldiers, when I am constrained to seek for any.”
_Stinchcombe_, near Dursley on the Severn, was a place where the
Parliament accused Prince Rupert of putting their men to the sword.
In consequence of this answer the siege was commenced, and carried on
with so much vigour, that, in the course of four days, the castle
surrendered, and the governor and his garrison were made prisoners of
war. Later in the history of that melancholy period, it was surprised by
a body of royalists, under Sir Nicholas Kemeys. Cromwell then directed
his whole strength upon it, and reduced the town; but, for a time, found
the castle impregnable. At last, however, exhausted with fatigue, and on
the verge of famine, the garrison were forced into a parley with the
besiegers; and, in the surrender of the fortress, Sir Nicholas Kemeys
“was killed in cold blood.” The following is Colonel Ewer’s report[8] on
the reduction of Chepstow Castle. His letter is addressed to the
Honourable William Lental, Speaker of the House of Commons:--
“SIR,--Lieutenant-General <g>Cromwell</g>, being to march towards Pembroke
Castle, left me with my regiment to take in the Castle of Chepstow,
which was possessed by Sir Nicholas Kemish [or Kemeys], and with him
officers and soldiers to the number of 120. We drew close about it, and
kept strong guards upon them, to prevent them from stealing out, and so
to make their escape. We sent for two guns from Gloucester, and two off
a shipboard, and planted them against the castle. We raised [razed] the
battlements of their towers with our great guns, and made their guns
unusefull for them. We also plaid with our shorter pieces into the
castle. One shot fell into the governor’s chamber, which caused him to
remove his lodgings to the other end of the castle. We then prepared our
batteries, and this morning finished them. About twelve of the clock, we
made a hole through the wall, so low that a man might walk into it. The
soldiers in the castle, perceiving that we were like to make a breach,
cried out to our soldiers that they would yield the castle, and many of
them did attempt to come away. I caused my soldiers to fire at them to
keep them in. Esquire Lewis comes upon the wall, and speaks to some
gentlemen of the county that he knew, and tells them that he was willing
to yield to mercy. They came and acquainted me with his desire, to which
I answered, that it was not my work to treat with particular men, but it
was Sir Nicholas Kemish, with his officers and all his soldiers, that I
aimed at; but the governor refused to deliver up the castle upon these
terms that Esquire Lewis desired, but desired to speak with me at the
drawbridge, while I altogether refused to have any such speech with him,
because he refused Lieutenant-General Cromwell’s summons; but, being
overpersuaded by some gentlemen of the country that were there,
presently I dismounted from my horse, and went unto the drawbridge,
where he through the port-hole spake with me. That which he desired was,
that he, with all his officers and soldiers, might march out of the
castle without anything being taken from them; to which I answered, that
I would give him no other terms but that he and all that were with him
should submit unto mercy, which he swore he would not do. I presently
drew off the soldiers from the castle, and caused them to stand to their
arms; but he refusing to come out upon those terms, the soldiers
deserted him, and came running out at the breach we had made. My
soldiers, seeing them run out, ran in at the same place, and possesst
themselves of the castle, and killed Sir Nicholas Kemmish, and likewise
him that betrayed the castle, and wounded divers, and took prisoners as
followeth:--Esquire Lewis, Major Lewis, Major Thomas, Captain Morgan,
Captain Buckeswell, Captain John Harris, Captain Christopher Harris,
Captain Mancell, Captain Pinner, Captain Doule, Captain Rossitre,
Lieutenant Kemmish, Lieutenant Leach, Lieutenant Codd, Ensign Watkins,
Ensign Morgan, with other officers and soldiers, to the number of 120.
These prisoners we have put into the church, and shall keep them till I
receive further orders from Lieutenant-General Cromwell.
“This is all at present, but that I am your humble servant,
“ISAAC EWER.”
“Chepstow, May 28, 1648.”
The captain who carried the news of this event to London was rewarded
with fifty pounds; and Colonel Ewer, with the officers and soldiers
under his command, received the thanks of parliament. This was the
closing scene of its warlike history; and from that period down to the
present, the Castle of Chepstow has remained a picturesque and
dismantled ruin.
Of this brave but unfortunate governor of the castle, we collect the
following particulars:[9]--
<g>Sir Nicholas Kemeys</g>, Bart.,[10] the sixteenth in descent of this
honourable house, “was colonel of a regiment of horse, raised for the
king’s service, and governor of Chepstow Castle, which he bravely
defended against the powerful efforts of Cromwell and Colonel Ewer; nor
did he surrender that fortress but with his life, fighting in the most
gallant manner, till death arrested his farther exertions.”[11] There is
a traditional story, that “the Parliamentary troops, as soon as they
entered the castle, in revenge for Sir Nicholas’ obstinate resistance,
mangled his body in the most horrid manner, and that the soldiers wore
his remains in their hats, as trophies of their victory; but a branch of
the Kemeys family,” says the writer, “told me they considered it as one
of those acts of the times, which each party adopted to stigmatize the
memory of its political opponents. Not a stone, it is said, nor other
tribute of recollection, in any cemetery in Monmouthshire, records the
spot in which the remains of this brave officer were deposited.”[12]
A portrait of Sir Nicholas Kemeys was “in the possession of the late
Mrs. Sewel[13] of Little Kemeys, near Usk, in this county, now the
property of John G. Kemeys, Esq. The picture is a three-quarters length.
He is drawn in armour, and seems about forty years of age. He appears to
have possessed a good person, if an opinion might be formed from his
portrait. He has a fine open countenance, round face, dark piercing
eyes, an aquiline nose, and wore his own hair, which was black and
rather curly.” According to the fashion of his day, he is represented
with whiskers, and a small tuft of hair growing under the lower lip--or,
in modern phraseology, an _imperial_. “Although it is what an artist
would pronounce a dark picture, yet, on the whole, it is in good
preservation. There are two more portraits of this gentleman--one in the
possession of the late Sir Charles Kemeys, Bart. of Halsewell, in
Somersetshire; the other at Malpas, near Usk, probably all painted at
the same time and by the same artist, but whose name has not been handed
down in conjunction with his works.”
The house of Kemeys,[14] “originally De Camois, Camoes, and Camys, is of
Norman extraction, and the name of its patriarch is to be found on the
roll of Battle Abbey. Large possessions were granted to the family in
the counties of Sussex and Surrey; and, so early as the year 1258, Ralph
de Camois was a baron by tenure. He was succeeded by his son, Ralph de
Camois, who was summoned to parliament in the 49th year of Henry III.;
and his descendants sat among the peers of the realm, until the demise,
issueless, of Hugh de Camois, who left his sisters (Margaret, married to
Ralph Rademelde, and Aleanor, wife of Roger Lewknor) his coheirs. A
branch of the family which had settled in Pembrokeshire, there enjoyed
large possessions, and, as lords of Camaes and St. Dogmaels, exercised
almost regal sway. In the conquest of Monmouthshire and Glamorganshire,
the Camays were much distinguished, and were rewarded with grants of
“Kemeys Commander” and “Kemeys Inferior.” One branch became established
at Llannarr Castle, in Monmouthshire (now in the possession of Colonel
Kemeys-Tynte), and another fixing itself at Began, in Glamorganshire,
erected the mansion of _Kevanmably_, the residence of the present chief
of the family.
“Edward Kemeys, son of Edward Kemeys who was at the conquest of Upper
Gwent, married the daughter and heiress of Andrew de Began, lord of
Began, a lineal descendant of Blethyn Maynerch, lord of Brecon, and thus
acquired the lordship of Began, which, for centuries after, was the
principal abode of his descendants. His great-great-great-grandson,
Jenkin Kemeys of Began, married Cristley, daughter of Morgan ap
Llewellyn, by whom he had one son, Jevan; and a daughter, married to
Jevan ap Morgan of New Church, near Cardiff, in the county of Glamorgan,
and was grandmother of Morgan Williams--living _temp._ Henry VIII.--who
espoused the sister of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, and had a son,
Sir Richard Williams, who assumed, at the desire of Henry VIII., the
surname of his uncle Cromwell; and through the influence of that
once-powerful relative, obtained wealth and station. His great-grandson
was the Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell.[15] From Jenkin Kemeys was
lineally descended Sir Nicholas Kemeys of Kevanmably, who represented
the county of Glamorgan in parliament, and was created a baronet 13th
May, 1642. This gentleman, remarkable for his gigantic stature and
strength, was pre-eminently distinguished by his loyalty to Charles I.,
and on the breaking out of the civil war (as we have already observed),
having raised a regiment of cavalry, was invested with the command of
Chepstow Castle.”
Notwithstanding the alliance with the blood of <g>Cromwell</g>, loyalty seems
to have been hereditary in the house of Kemeys. In the family biography
we have the following anecdote:--“Sir Charles Kemeys--knight of the
shire for Monmouth, in the last parliament of Queen Anne, and for
Glamorgan in the two succeeding parliaments--when on his travels, was
shown great attention by George I. at Hanover, and frequently joined the
private circle of the Elector. When his majesty ascended the British
throne, he was pleased to inquire why his old acquaintance Sir Charles
Kemeys had not paid his respects at court; and commanding him to repair
to St. James’s, sent him a message, the substance of which was--that the
King of England hoped Sir Charles Kemeys still recollected the number of
pipes he had smoked with the Elector of Hanover in Germany. Sir Charles,
who had retired from parliament, and was a stanch Jacobite, replied,
that he should be proud to pay his duty at St. James’s to the Elector of
Hanover, but that he had never had the honour of smoking a pipe with the
King of England.”
Sir Charles Kemeys died without issue, when the baronetcy expired, and
his estates devolved on his nephew, Sir Charles Kemeys-Tynte, Bart. of
Halsewell, at whose demise, also issueless, his estates vested in his
niece, Jane Hassell, who married Colonel Johnstone, afterwards
Kemeys-Tynte,[16] and was mother of the present (1838) Colonel
Kemeys-Tynte of Halsewell and Kevanmably. Through the Hassells, the
family of Kemeys-Tynte claim descent from the Plantagenets.[17]
We now proceed to a brief description of the castle in its ruinous
state.
[Illustration: CHEPSTOW CASTLE AND BRIDGE.