Part 8 (2/2)
Chepstow Bridge is a singular structure: it was formerly entirely built with timber; but the piers of the Monmouths.h.i.+re 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; acc.u.mulating 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 Monmouths.h.i.+re, 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 Sat.u.r.day; 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 pa.s.sed 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 compet.i.tion 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 flouris.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sage 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, pa.s.ses from beneath us, through a richly variegated country, to its junction with the Severn, beyond whose silvery expanse the grand swelling sh.o.r.es of Somersets.h.i.+re form the distance. A curious _deceptio visus_ occurring here must not be pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.ses 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 sh.o.r.es 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, m.u.f.fled, 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 partic.i.p.ate 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 acc.u.mulating 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.
CHAP. XVII.
TINTERN ABBEY-IRON-WORKS-SCENERY OF THE WYE TO MONMOUTH-OLD TINTERN-BROOK'S WEIR-LANDAGO-REDBROOK.
How teaming with objects of curiosity and beauty is Monmouths.h.i.+re!
Within two or three miles of Piercefield we reached the justly-famed ruin of TINTERN ABBEY: its dark mouldering walls, solemnly rising above surrounding trees, appeared to us, in turning from a deep-wooded hollow, with a most impressive effect. {265} At the village adjoining we put up at the Beaufort Arms, the landlord of which, Mr. Gething, holds the key of the ruin, and who, extraordinary as it may seem, unites unaffected civility and kindness with upwards of forty years initiation into the business of an inn-keeper, and, as the neighbours say, a well-lined purse. Pa.s.sing the works of an iron-foundry, and a train of miserable cottages engrafted on the offices of the abbey, we found ourselves under the west front of the ruin. This confined approach, inc.u.mbered by mean buildings, is not calculated to inspire one with a very high estimation of its consequence: but, on the door's being thrown open, an effect bursts on the spectator, of so majestic and singular a description, that words can neither do justice to its merit, nor convey an adequate idea of the scene. It is neither a mere creation of art nor an exhibition of nature's charms; but a grand spectacle, in which both seem to have blended their powers in producing something beautiful and sublime!
Through long ranges of Gothic pillars and arches, some displaying all the exquisite workmans.h.i.+p of their cl.u.s.tered shafts, while others are hung with shadowy festoons of ivy, or lightly decorated with its waving tendrils, the eye pa.s.ses; and, for a moment arrested by the lofty arches rising in the middle of the structure that formerly supported the tower, it glides to the grand window at the termination of the ruin. Beyond this aperture, distinguished by a shaft of uncommon lightness springing up the middle, some wild wooded hills on the opposite side of the Wye rear their dusky summits, and close the scene with much congenial grandeur. The ruin is generally in a high state of preservation; the outer walls are perfect; and the elegant tracery of the west window above the entrance has not suffered in one of its members. A singular circ.u.mstance of this ruin, and to which may be ascribed its superior effect, is, that the fallen roof and all the other rubbish have been removed to the original level of the pavement by order of the Duke of Beaufort, and a greensward smooth as a bowling-green extended throughout.
Hence all the parts rise in their original and due proportion, and with an undisturbed effect. At the same time, the uniformity of a lawn-like surface is diversified with several clunks; consisting of broken columns, cornices, and the mutilated effigies of monks and heroes, {268} whose ashes repose within the walls: Light branching trees start from their interstices, and throw a doubtful shadow over the sculptured fragments.
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