TINTERN:
we here observed the ruins of an old mansion, belonging to Mr. Farmer, of Monmouth; this house appears of an old date, and might probably claim the attention of the curious antiquary, was he not so wrapt up in contemplating the venerable Abbey, which presents its Gothic pile, in solemn majesty. This august building, great in ruins, and awfully grand in appearance, impels the stranger, as it were, imperceptibly, to land and inspect its noble arches, its tottering pillars, and its highly finished windows; the specimens of ancient architecture, which formerly were delicately wrought by the hand of art, are now finely decked by that of nature. On our first entrance, our attention was too much engrossed, to exchange the mutual communication of thought; but the care which has been officiously taken to remove every fragment, lying scattered through the immense area of the fabric, and the smoothness of the shorn grass, which no scythe should have dared to clip, in a great measure perverts the character of the ruin: these circumstances but ill accord with the mutilated walls of an ancient ruin, which has braved the pitiless storms of so many centuries. In this respect, we by no means agreed with Gilpin, who thus describes it: “We excuse—perhaps we approve—the neatness that is introduced within. It may add to the beauty of the scene—to its novelty it undoubtedly does.” But when this disgust was a little abated, we indulged those reflections, which scenes of ancient grandeur naturally recall.
This beautiful ruin is cruciform, measuring two hundred and thirty feet in length, and thirty-three in breadth; the transept stretches north and south, one hundred and sixty feet. [194] This cistertian abbey was founded by Walter de Clare, in the year 1131, and dedicated to St. Mary, in the reign of Henry VIII. It experienced the same fate with many other monasteries, and was granted, at its dissolution, to the Earl of Worcester, in the year 1537.
As we receded from the banks, Tintern Abbey, with the Gothic fret-work of the eastern window, seemingly bound together by the treillage of ivy, appeared in the most pleasing point of view; sloping hills and rich woods forming a fine back-ground. As we drew nearer
CHEPSTOW,
some most noble rocks, “nature’s proud bastions,” opened upon us, to the left, grander than any we had hitherto admired, and which, we had previously determined, were inconceivably fine, and surpassed any idea we had formed of the channel of this romantic river: to add to the magnificence of the whole, the setting sun tinged the rocks with the most resplendent colours, and the dewy freshness of the evening improved the charm of the scene; the one enchanting the sense, the other refreshing it. The lofty Wine Cliff, to the right, and Piercefield, with the curious projecting rocks, called the Twelve Apostles, and Peter’s Thumb, heighten, to the very extent of beauty, this noble scene, gratifying, beyond measure, to the admirer of nature. Another reach brought us in sight of Chepstow Castle, on a prominent rock, of which it seemed to form a part; noble in situation, and grand in appearance. The singular constructed bridge, the rocks, and the scarce visible town, here made a most charming picture: this we enjoyed exceedingly, but regretted a few more minutes would set us on shore, and conclude our excursion on the Wye; an excursion which, the farther we proceeded, the more we were interested; and so much so, as to determine a renewal of this pleasing tour, another summer. The wooden bridge thrown over the Wye, at this place, is of very singular construction; the boards forming the flooring are all designedly loose, but prevented, by pegs fattened at the extremity of them, from being carried away by the tide, and by that ingenious contrivance gradually rise and fall with it, which is here frequently known to rise to the extraordinary height of seventy feet.
Not having visited the church, in consequence of the bad weather, at the commencement of our tour, we determined now to inspect it. The entrance, through the western door, is an elegant specimen of Saxon architecture, richly wrought, with three arches; in the inside is the monument of Sir Henry Martin, one of the twelve judges, who presided at the condemnation of Charles I. and was confined in the castle seven and twenty years.
A curious carved one to the Marquis of Worcester and Lady, though not buried here; and another, of the date 1620, to the memory of Mrs. Clayton and her two husbands, both kneeling.
This church originally belonged to the alien Benedictine priory of Strigule, but converted, at the reformation, into the parish church of Chepstow.
Admittance to the celebrated walks of Piercefield can only be obtained on Tuesdays and Fridays. To survey these with that attention which they deserve, occupy several hours; the liveliest description cannot do justice to the rich and bold scenery, with all its accompaniments; the eye can alone receive the impression, for,