Opposite the Beaufort Arms, the most convenient inn in the town, is the town-house, handsomely built, with a full length statue on the outside, facing the street, with this inscription under it: “Henry the Fifth, born at Monmouth, August the ninth, 1387.” On the birth of this warlike and virtuous prince, the charter was granted to the town of Monmouth; it is governed by a mayor, two bailiffs, fifteen aldermen, nine constables, two serjeants, and two beadles. The castle now bears few vestiges of its former grandeur; and of the regal dome, scarcely a wreck has escaped, through the long lapse of years, and the ravages of time: where a mighty king once gave audience, and where vassals knelt, now assemble the animate appendages of a farm-yard.
Near the castle is a very antiquated house, now converted into a school, the property of the Duke of Beaufort. To this town Wihenoc de Monemue, or Monmouth, in the reign of Henry the First, brought over a convent of Black Monks from St. Florence, and placed them first in the church of St. Cadoc near the castle, and after in the church of St. Mary. It was among other ancient priories seized by the crown during the wars with France, but was restored again, made denison, and continued till the general suppression in the reign of King Henry the Eighth. [295] From hence we walked to the church-yard; close to which is the room where Geoffery of Monmouth composed his well-known history: this is now a day-school. Monmouth has likewise to boast of a free-school founded here from the following curious circumstance: Mr. Jones, a native of Newland, being in distress, left this parish, and went to London, where he engaged himself as servant to a Hamburgh merchant, and proving trusty in his office, he was by degrees advanced, till at length he attained a fortune of his own. Willing to prove how far the charity of his native place would extend towards him, in disguise he applied for that relief which he was enabled to show towards others; but his parish taking no notice of him, referred him to Monmouth, and would not redress his pretended complaints; the latter, however, being more charitably disposed, relieved him according to his wishes. Having thus proved their generosity, he acquainted them of his real situation, and promised to repay their kindness by obliging them in any demand they should request. On this they solicited the foundation of a free-school, which he immediately built, liberally endowed, and which, from that time, has been well supported. The walk to the Folly, we were informed, would have afforded us some beautiful and extensive prospects; the whole of which information we should probably have found true, but the evening closing we were very reluctantly necessitated to return to our inn.
Early in the morning we renewed our survey of Monmouth. The church first demanded notice: it is a handsome structure, but the inside offers nothing remarkable for the inspection of the antiquary. The gaol, built after the plan of the benevolent Howard, is situated in a healthy spot; and in every respect rendered as commodious and comfortable as such a place will allow for the unfortunate inhabitants. Monmouth, indeed, contains several good houses, and the neighbourhood is respectable. A bridge at the extremity of the town, with the ancient gateway, bears every mark of antiquity.
The hire of a boat from Monmouth to Chepstow is on the same plan as from Ross to Monmouth, the distance being nearly equal. Nothing now remained but to recommence our water excursion; and we accordingly embarked a quarter of a mile below the town, where the river Monnow joins itself with the Wye; from hence Monnow-mouth, or Monmouth. The weather still continued favourable for our schemes: the banks on the left were at first low, but as we receded from the town, the spire of Monmouth in the retrospect, with the Kymin Woods rising from a rock of great height on our left, under which the river meanders, and to our right Pen-y-vall Hill engaged our attention, and was the bold and rich scenery we enjoyed on our first re-embarkation.
The same scenery of rock, wood, and water, which so captivated us on the preceding day, still continued, occasionally diversified by light vessels skimming by our boat, and increasing in number as we approached nearer the sea. The rude hail of the boatmen as they passed, was re-echoed by the rocks; and the dingy white sails of the vessels, which soon disappeared round some bold promontory, were particularly picturesque. Coleman’s Rocks appeared alternately mantled with underwood and pointed crags; large fragments scattered in the river here divide the counties of Monmouth and Gloucester. At Redbrook Hills, the curling smoke issuing from the iron-works formed a pleasing accompaniment to the scenery, and the whole exhibited a picture of industrious labour. These works belong to Mr. Turner: the wood and meadow-land of Whitebrook Hills were finely contrasted with the busy scene at Redbrook. From hence a long reach, with Fidenham Chase Hill rising conspicuously in the front, brought us to the village of
LLANDOGO,
diversified with cottages from the base to the highest summit of the sloping eminence. This village is about nine miles from Monmouth, and arrests particular observation: here vessels of considerable burden were loading with iron and other commodities for various ports. The appearance of the river here changed; the translucent stream, which had hitherto alternately reflected, as in a mirror, the awful projection of the rocks, and the soft flowery verdure of its banks, was affected by the influence of the tide, and rendered turbid and unpleasant to the sight.
A turn of the river soon brought us to the village of
TINTERN,
where we observed the ruins of a 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, tottering pillars, and 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 scene: 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 Mr. 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.