CHAP. XVI.

Charles the First, being pursued by a strong party of his enemies through Share Newton, got into a boat at the Black rock (the New passage), and was ferried to the opposite shore. His pursuers, to the number of sixty, with drawn swards compelled other boatmen belonging to the passage to ferry them after him; but these, being in the king’s interest, landed them on a reef of rocks in the Severn called theEnglish stones, near the Gloucestershire coast, to which they were instructed to ford: indeed, the strait was fordable at low water; but, the tide flowing in very rapidly, they were all drowned in the attempt, and the king for that time escaped. Cromwell, informed of the transaction, abolished the ferry; nor was it renewed, until after a long chancery-suit between an ancestor of the present proprietor, Mr. Lewis, of St. Pierre, and the guardians of his Grace the Duke of Beaufort, proprietor of Aust ferry.

A walk of a mile, on the shore westward of New Passage inn, led us toSudbrook encampment, crowning the brow of an eminence which rises in an abrupt cliff from Caldecot level. This work, consisting of three ramparts and two ditches, forms a semicircle, whose chord is the sea cliff; but it is evident, that part of the eminence has mouldered away; and most probable, that the figure of the fortification was once circular. Harris conjectures it to be of Roman origin, and intended for the defence of the port of Venta Silurum (Caerwent). Eastward of the encampment isSudbrook Chapel, a small Gothic ruin, which was formerly attachedto a mansion of Norman foundation. No traces appear even of the site of this structure, which has in all likelihood been swept away by the encroachment of the sea: but several piles of hewn stones near the ramparts are probably its relics.

We had another pleasant walk of about a mile from the New passage across the fields toSt. Pierre, an ancient residence of the Lewis family, descended from Cadivor the great. This mansion exhibits rather an incongruous mixture, in which the modern refinements of sash-windows, &c. are forced upon a Gothic structure upwards of four hundred years old: an embattled gateway, flanked with pentagonal towers, is still more ancient, and is recorded as having belonged to the feudal castle that occupied the site of the present building.

Nearly opposite this spot, the great estuary of the Bristol channel, contracting in width, takes the name of the Severn. The appellation of this river arises from the story of a British princess. Geoffry of Monmouth relates, that she was the daughter of Locrine king of Britain, by Elstridis, one of the three virgins of matchless charms whom he tookafter he had defeated Humber king of the Huns, to whom they belonged. Locrine had divorced his former queen Guendolin in her favour. On his death, Guendolin assumed the government, pursued Elstridis and her daughter Sabra with unrelenting cruelty, and caused them to be drowned in the river, which with some alteration took the name of this innocent victim. Our poets have made a beautiful use of this story: Milton, in his description of rivers, speaks of

“The Severn swift, guilty of maiden blood;”

but in the Mask of Comus he enters fully into her sad story:

“There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream:Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure;Whilome she was the daughter of Locrine,That had the scepter from his father Brute.She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuitOf her enraged stepdame Guendolin,Commended her fair innocence to the flood,That stay’d her flight with his cross-flowing course.The water-nymphs that in the bottom play’dHeld up their pearled wrists and took her in,Bearing her strait to aged Nereus’ hall;Who, piteous of his woes, rear’d her lank head,And gave her to his daughters to imbatheIn nectar’d lavers strow’d with asphodil,And through the porch and inlet of each senseDropt in ambrosial oils till she reviv’d,And underwent a quick immortal change,Made Goddess of the river.”

Crossing the grounds of St. Pierre, and passing Pool Meyrick, a brook falling into the Severn, we turned to the right in search ofMathern Palace, formerly a seat of the bishops of Landaff. This building, situated in a gentle hilly country pleasingly diversified with wood and pasturage, in its present appearance conveys but a very faint idea of the splendour and good cheer that no doubt reigned there when it was the seat of the episcopacy. The structure surrounds a quadrangular court, and was raised by different bishops; the north and north-east parts, comprising the tower, porch, &c. are supposed to have been erected by John de la Zouch, who was consecrated anno 1408. Miles Salley, who came to the see in 1504, built the chapel, hall, and other apartments. Some specimens of dilapidated grandeur appear in the east window; and until lately the entrance was through a lofty ornamented porch; but this is now destroyed, and the building only occupied as a farm-house. In the north side of the chancel of Mathern church, aGothic structure, but of British origin, is the following epitaph written by bishop Godwin; the substance of which accounts for the manor of Mathern’s becoming ecclesiastical:

Here lyeth entombed the body ofTheodorick, king of Morganuck, orGlamorgan, commonly calledSt. Thewdrick, and accounted a martyrbecause he was slain in a battle againstthe Saxons, being then Pagans, and indefence of the Christian religion. Thebattle was fought at Tintern, where heobtained a great victory. He died here,being in his way homeward, threedays after the battle, having takenorder with Maurice his son, who succeededhim in the Kingdom, that in thesame place he should happen to decease achurch should be built, and his body buriedin the same; which was accordingly performedin the year 600.[244]

Within a short distance of Mathern isMoinscourt, another deserted ecclesiastical mansion, attributed to the erection of Bishop Godwin, and also occupied as a farm-house. This exhibits a handsome Gothic porchdefended by two lofty turrets: within the court-yard are the two Roman inscribed stones mentioned by Gibson in the supplement to Camden, and said to have been brought from Caerleon: one of these appears to have been a votive altar; the other records the repairing or rebuilding of the temple of Diana by T. H. Posthumius Varus.

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 ofChepstowand 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 thewell-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.

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 tostamp 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 strikingcoup-d’œilof 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 theintermediate 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 perpendicularlybeneath 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 allowedto 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 æra of Julius Cæsar,[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 theConqueror, 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 Severnnear 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 ofPiercefield. 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 wasan 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 ofSt. Arvans, and, leaving our horses at the blacksmith’s, enteredPiercefield Groundsat a back gate. Here commencinga 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 timesince 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 curiousdeceptio visusoccurring 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 prospectfrom 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.

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 fewplaces the still uniformsombrehue 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; norcould 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 hisamiable 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.

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 Monmouthshire! Within two or three miles of Piercefield we reached the justly-famed ruin ofTintern 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 adjoiningwe 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. Passing 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, incumbered 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 whichboth 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 workmanship of their clustered shafts, while others are hung with shadowy festoons of ivy, or lightly decorated with its waving tendrils, the eye passes; 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 circumstance 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-greenextended 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.

Tintern Abbey is cruciform; The length of the nave and choir is two hundred and thirty feet; their width, thirty-three; and it is a hundred and sixty feet to the extremes of the transept. It was founded for Cistercian monks by Walter de Clare, anno 1131; and in 1238, according to William of Worcester, the abbot and monks entered the choir, and celebrated the first mass at the high altar. It is probable, that only that part of the building was then competed, as the other partsthe church are of a later style of architecture; and it was no uncommon thing for the choir to be built and consecrated before the rest of the structure was finished.

On entering the abbey, it was determined that we should proceed no further that day: getting rid, therefore, of my companion and landlord, who retired in a consultation about dinner, I locked myself in, and employed several hours without interruption in sketching the interesting features of the ruin. At an early hour the following morning we sallied from our inn, and, crossing the Wye, were greeted with a new effect of the abbey. Majestically towering above encircling trees, the external elevation arose in nearly its original grandeur. The walk, though clad with moss and tender lichens, appeared nowhere dismantled; yet might an eye, anxious after picturesque forms, be offended with the uniform angles and strait lines of the gable ends and parapets. We walked along the banks of the sinuous river about half a mile from the ferry, when the ruin presented itself in a very agreeable point of view. Looking full through the grand aperture of the eastern window, the rows of columns andarches, overhung with clustering ivy, wore the appearance of a delightful grove; and at the end of the perspective, the elegant tracery of the opposite window, besprinkled with verdure, was well defined; and in its distant tint had an admirable effect. These views of the mouldering abbey, combined with the wild scenery of the Wye, and the kindred gloom of a lowering atmosphere, were truly impressive and grand; yet they scarcely excited such sensations of awful sublimity as we felt on our first visit to the interior of the ruin.

In our different walks between the inn and the abbey, we were regularly beset with importunities for alms: the labouring man abandoned his employment and the house-wife her family at the sight of a stranger, to obtain a few pence by debasing clamour. This system of begging we found to arise from the late distresses, particularly that of the preceding year, which, bearing on the great class of the people with an almost annihilating pressure, entitled them to the sympathy and assistance of those whom fortune had blessed with prosperity: they had strained their aching sinews to meet the exigence,yet their utmost exertions proved inadequate to the means of support. Thus situated, alms or outrage formed their alternate resources; but, happily, in the benevolence of the affluent they found an asylum. This pressure was fast withdrawing, but its effects remained; they had tasted the sweets of indolence, of support without exertion; they no longer felt the dignity of independance (for the odium of begging was withdrawn by invincible necessity); and they continued the unworthy trade without remorse. Excepting a few significant curtsies in the manufactories of Neath, this was the first instance of the sort that we met with during our tour. In other places, industry was urged to its highest exertion; here, by an increased weight of necessity, it sunk beneath the pressure.

The iron-works of Tintern I believe to be almost the only concern in the neighbourhood of Wales where the old method of fusing the ore by charcoal furnaces continues to be practised. The manufacture is pursued to the forming of fine wire and plates.

The mineral wealth of this district was not unknown to the ancients; for large quantitiesof scoria imperfectly separated from the metal, which are evidently the refuse of Roman bloomeries, and many furnaces whose origin no tradition reaches, appear in several parts of the country. These Roman cinders have been in many places reworked, according to modern improvements in metallurgy, and made to yield a considerable portion of metal. The decline of the ancient works is justly attributed to their exhausting the forests which formerly overspread Wales, for charcoal, until they were at length entirely stopped for want of fuel. But within this half century, coke made from pit-coal, which possesses the essential principles of charcoal, has been applied with success to the fusing of ore: in consequence, very numerous iron-mines have been opened; and, aided by an inexhaustible supply of coals, their produce has exceeded even the sanguine hopes of the projectors. It must, however, be remarked, that iron made with pit-coal is of inferior tenacity and ductility to that manufactured by means of charcoal. Whether this arises from a radical defect in the material used, from a too prodigal use of calcareous earth to facilitate the flux ofthe metal, or any other cause, remains yet to be determined.

I cannot take leave of Tintern without mentioning a circumstance for the benefit of those tourists who may have an obstinate beard, or a too pliant skin. Having dispatched an attendant for a barber on my arriving at the inn, a blacksmith was forthwith introduced, who proved to be the only shaver in the village. The appearance of this man, exhibiting, with all the sootiness of his employment, his brawny black arms bare to the shoulders, did not flatter me with hopes of a very mild operation; nor were they increased upon his producing a razor that for massiveness might have served a Polypheme. I sat down, however, and was plentifully besmeared with suds; after which he endeavoured to supply the deficiency of an edge, by exerting his ponderous strength in three or four such scrapes as, without exciting my finer feelings, drew more tears into my eyes, than might have sufficed for a modern comedy. I waited for no more; but, releasing myself from his gripe, determined to pass for a Jew Rabbi, rather than undergo the penance of any more shaving at Tintern.

We crossed the Wye from Tintern, that we might follow the beauties of the river in our way to Monmouth; then ascending a precipitous wild-wooded hill, we took a farewel view of our much-loved abbey, and soon looked down on the old village ofTintern, delightfully placed on the opposite bank of the Wye, and dignified with the ruin of the Abbot’s mansion.[274]Upon completing our descent in traversing the hill, we entered the irregular village ofBrook’s Weir, off which a number of sloops of from 80 to 100 tons were at anchor: these vessels were waiting for their cargoes from Hereford and Monmouth, which are brought hither in flat-bottomed barges, as the tide flows no higher than this place. We had now a delightful ride for several miles over meadows and pastures that skirted the Wye; whose majestic stream, almost filling the narrow valley, reflected the inclosing hills from its surface in a style of inimitable beauty; while the rich ascending woods on either side threw a softened light on the translucent river andits verdant margin; so sweetly in harmony with the pleasing solitude of the scene, as might dispose even revelry itself to fall in love with retirement:

“O blest retirement, friend to life’s decline,Retreat from care, that never must be mine:How blest is he, who crowns, in shades like these,A youth of labour with an age of ease!”

About four miles above Tintern the rural little village ofLandagosaluted us with its white church and cottages, glistening through encircling trees, as it skirted the river and climbed the side of a lofty hill. We then followed a gentle curvature of the Wye to Bigg’s Weir, a ridge of rocks which cross the river, leaving only a small interval for the current. A string of barges was unravelling its course in this strait as we were passing; which task seemed to engage all the vigilance and activity of the watermen. Near this spot the house (an ordinary mansion) and grounds of General Rooke, member for the county of Monmouth, occupying part of the river’s bank, obliged us to make a short deviation; but, soon returning to our limpid stream, we caught a glimpse of the church and castle of St. Briavel, crowning an eminence in theforest of Dean just behind us; and in front, a short distance beyond the opposite bank, appeared the decaying importance of Pilson-house.

The narrow stripe of meadow-land that accompanies the Wye from Brook’s Weir to Monmouth, and in which our road lay, now became frequently shut up from public convenience by fences crossing the tract, and styles, in the place of open gates, which the farmers had lately erected. We were therefore obliged to climb up the forest-clothed hills, of almost inaccessible steepness, driving our horses before us, and scrambling through bush and briar; and only regained the meadows to encounter a succeeding difficulty of the same kind. But our last was the greatest; for, pursuing a track broken through a closely-woven thicket that led over the hills, we neglected a doubtful opening in the brambles that indicated our road, and only guessed that we were wrong from the tedious height we were climbing. We had, however, gone too far to retreat; and therefore hoped, in the true spirit of error, as we had certainly missed the right path, that by proceeding boldly on we might extricate ourselves byanother. At length we reached the top of the hill, and with no small disappointment beheld our track terminate at a lonely farm-house; where no one appeared to give us information; nor was any road whatever viable for the pursuit of our journey. Yet the view that this eminence commanded over the sinuous Wye, sweeping among sloping meadows, woods, and precipices, in some sort repaid our fatigue. Obliged to return, we forced a passage through tangled underwood to the margin of the river, which here forming an extensive reach between deep shelving banks, was thrown into one grand shadow. The evening was drawing to a close; and the retiring sun, no longer wantoning on the wavy current, sparingly glittered on the woody treasures of its marginal heights, but glared in full splendour on the distant hills; nor was a brilliant sky wanting to contrast thesombresolemnity of our vale:

“The evening clouds,Lucid or dusk with flamy purple edg’d,Float in gay pomp the blue horizon round;Amusive, changeful, shifting into shapesOf visionary beauty; antique towersWith shadowy domes and pinnacles adorn’d;Or hills of white extent, that rise and sinkAs sportive fancy lists.”

View on the Wye

In this shady silent retreat we passed about a mile, and emerged on the village ofRedbrook, where several groupes employed in some iron and tin works, and in plying a ferry, gave animation to the scene. From this place, following a bold curve of the river, and skirting the base of the lofty Kymin, we soon came within view of Monmouth; the remarkably high spire of its church; and the large old Mansion of Troy, in a low situation, a small distance to the left, near the junction of the Trothy with the Wye.

MONMOUTH—CHURCH, PRIORY, AND CASTLE—THE KYMIN—WONASTOW-HOUSE—TREOWEN—TROY-HOUSE—TRELECH—PERTHIR—NEWCASTLE—SCRENFRITH CASTLE—GROSSMONT CASTLE—JOHN OF KENT.

Monmouth is delightfully situated in a gently undulating valley; chiefly in a high state of cultivation, surrounded by high hills: it occupies a sort of peninsula formed by the conflux of the Wye and the Monnow; so that it is nearly incircled by the two rivers. The town is extensive, and contains many good houses; particularly in a principal broad street, which extends from the market-place to an old British or Saxon bridge and gateway over the Monnow. The market-place, withthe town-hall over it, is a handsome building; but sadly disfigured by an awkward statue of Henry the Fifth, which, no doubt, was intended to ornament it. From this part a narrow street leads to St. Mary’s church, which is also a handsome modern edifice, chiefly remarkable for its grand lofty spire rising 200 feet from the foundation; the tower of which affords an interesting view of the surrounding districts. This structure is engrafted upon a Gothic church that belonged to an Alien Benedictine priory of Black Monks, which was founded in the reign of Henry the First, and dedicated to the Holy Virgin. The priory-house forms a large family residence belonging to Adam Williams, Esq.; and contains an apartment which the legend of the place declares to have been the library of the celebrated Geoffery of Monmouth; but the style of the building is by no means so ancient as the time of Geoffery, who, we find, was consecrated bishop of St. Asaph in 1152.

“The chronicle of Briton’s kingsFrom Brute to Arthur’s rayne,”

written by Geoffery, has long excited the attention and controversy of the leaned: bysome it is implicitly believed; and rejected, as altogether fabulous, by others. The moderate opinion here, as in most other cases, is the best: this views it as founded on authentic documents, although distorted by monkish superstition and tricks, and a taste for the marvellous.

Monmouth Castle, situated on the banks of the Monnow in the northern part of the town, exhibits few memorials of its former extent and magnificence in its present very dilapidated state; and the remaining fragments lose much of their characteristic dignity from the bricky appearance given by the red grit stone of which they are constructed. Among these broken walls are shewn, with no small degree of exultation, traces of the chamber in which Henry the Fifth, the glory of Monmouth, was born. Adjoining to this is the ruin of a large apartment, sixty-three feet long by forty-six wide, which was probably the baronial hall, and in latter times formed the court of the Assizes. Other vestiges of the castle are evident among stables and out-houses: some vaults under the house of Mr. Cecil of the Dyffrin, are ofthe oldest character, and may be attributed to Saxon if not to Roman workmanship.

The general building of this castle (though of very remote foundation) may be considered as posterior to the Civil wars in the third Henry’s reign; when, we learn, the castle of Monmouth was taken and rased to the ground by Simon Montford, Earl of Leicester. A large mansion on the site of the castle, built with its materials, and engrafted on its ruins, is now occupied as a ladies’ boarding-school. Soon after the erection of this house, a Marchioness of Worcester went thither to lie-in of her first child, at the instance of her grandfather, Henry, first Duke of Beaufort, who was anxious that his descendant should draw his first breath “near the same spot of ground and space of air, where our great hero Henry the Fifth was born.”

Near the extremity of the town, by the side of the Monnow, is the county goal, a new massive stone building, which in its plan, regulations, and superintendance, does high credit to the pubic spirit of the county. Without the town, at the foot of the Monnow-bridge, is St. Thomas’s church, a curiousold structure which is supposed to have been built by the Saxons.

Monmouth is supposed by Mr. Horsley to have been a Roman station, the Blestium of Antoninus. It is a borough and corporate town, governed by a mayor, and contains about six hundred houses, and two thousand six hundred inhabitants. Woollen caps were the staple manufacture of Monmouth when that article was in general use; and Shakspeare’s Fluellen alludes to this fashion: “If your Majesty is remembered of it, the Welchmen did goot service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps.” But the town has now no manufacture, although there are some iron and tin works in the neighbourhood: its commerce depends on the navigation of the Wye, in the distribution of goods between Bristol, Hereford, and adjoining districts. Yet no small part of its thriving appearance may be attributed to the numerous gentry that are induced to fix their residence here from the pleasantness of the situation.

Chippenham meadow, an agreeable plain, inclosed by the town, the Wye, and the Monnow, is the general rendezvous of Gwentonianbeauty on summer (and particularly on Sunday) evenings. We had the good fortune to be in Monmouth on a Sunday, and of course did not neglect to join the promenade; where many a squire of little manors eyed us with much more inquiry than cordiality. Their dulcineas,

“Healthful and strong, full as the summer roseBlown by prevailing suns,”

displayed the vigour of youth and Wales, and possessed decided points of feminine attraction. But who would leave London to describe female beauty?

In the vicinity of Monmouth is a remarkably high hill, called theKymin, which rises from the banks of the Wye, on the Gloucestershire side of the river. A pleasant walk is traced to its summit, from which a wonderful range of prospect extends to a circumference of near three hundred miles. It would be tedious to enumerate the multifarious objects that present themselves in this great prospect: if any one be eminently beautiful, it is the diversified undulating vale of Monmouth, enlivened by its picturesque town and spire, and watered by the Wye,the Monnow, and the Trothy, limpidly meandering through fertile hollows, and at length uniting, in the course of the former river, at the foot of the hill. At the top of the Kymin, a handsome pavilion has been lately erected for the accommodation of parties; its summit is also adorned with a rich wood called Beaulieu grove, which, descending over part of its precipitous sides, forms its proudest ornament. Several walks cut through the wood terminate at the brow of steep declivities, commanding great and enchanting views; and which in the spring, as I am told, from the universality of apple orchards in this district, are as singular as they are beautiful.

There are several antique mansions in the neighbourhood of Monmouth that deserve notice. About a mile from the town, on the left of the road to Raglan, isWonastow-house, formerly a residence of a branch of the Herbert family,[285]which is conjectured to have been built about the reign of Henry the Sixth. Its situation, on a gentle eminencecommanding many extensive views, is extremely pleasant; and the surrounding farm-lands still bear traces of its park in several groves of ancient oaks and elms. The edifice, though much diminished in extent and divided into two distinct habitations, is still a venerable relic of the times, and contains several original family portraits. The old chapel belonging to the mansion is now applied to domestic use.

Treowen, situated about a mile further westward, to the north of the road to Raglan, was once a splendid mansion, built by Inigo Jones, and which belonged to another scion from the Herbert stock. The position of the house and grounds, now laid out in a farm, is very delightful, watered by the meandering Trothy, and still exhibiting a profusion of rich woods. Though occupied as a farmhouse, and much reduced in dimensions, the mansion continues to shew many marks of its ancient grandeur, in the spacious and decorative style of the apartments, a noble staircase of oak, and its ornamented porch.

Troy-house, standing within a mile south-east of Monmouth, near the road to Chepstow, was a residence of a further ramificationof the prolific Herbert race.[287]Part of the ancient residence is visible in a Gothic gateway; but the house is of a later date, its erection being, as well as the preceding, attributed to Inigo Jones. Neither the house, though extensive, nor its situation, in a hollow near the river Trothy, possess any claim to admiration. Throughout the apartments a large collection of family pictures is arranged, which contains the portraits of many distinguished characters, but very few specimens of fine painting. In the housekeeper’s room is a curious oak chimney-piece,brought from Raglan Castle, carved with scriptural subjects; and in a room on the third floor is another ancient chimney-piece inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and curiously ornamented with devices of Love and Plenty.

About three miles further on the road to Chepstow is the village ofTrelech, which is supposed to have derived its name from three druidical stones standing in a field adjoining the road, near the church. They are placed upright, or rather inclining; of different heights, varying between ten and fifteen feet; and the exterior stones are the one fourteen, and the other twenty feet distant from the middle pillar: their substance is a concretion of silicious pebbles in a calcareous bed, commonly called pudding-stone, and of which some neighbouring rocks consist. This monument of antiquity is considered to have been the supporting part of a cromlech; but the stones being so far asunder invalidates the conjecture. Various large masses of the same sort of stone in the vicinity of Trelech seem to indicate the remains of other works of the same kind.

In the village, inclosed by a garden, is an earthen mound four hundred and fifty feetin diameter, encircled by a moat, and connected with extensive entrenchments; which is imagined to have been a Roman work, and afterwards to have been the site of a castle belonging to the Earls of Clare. The village is also remarkable for a chalybeate well that was formerly much attended. Near the church, which deserves to be noticed for the agreeable proportions of its Gothic members and its handsome spire, is a pedestal with a sun-dial, supposed to be of high antiquity: it bears a Latin inscription, commemorating Harold’s victory over the Britons. Large quantities of iron scoria, scattered over the fields near the village, are generally allowed to indicate that a Roman bloomery was established near the spot.

From this place the road soon ascends the Devaudon height, traverses a tract of forest called Chepstow Park, and in the course of its progress embraces several superb and extensive views; in which the varieties of the Wye, of hanging woods, wild heathy mountains, and rich inclosures, rise in succession.

We made an excursion from Monmouth, on the road to Hereford, as far as Grosmont. Proceeding through a charming country aboutthree miles, we struck off on the right to visitPerthir, a very ancient seat of the Herbert family. Of the castellated mansion, surrounded by a moat and two drawbridges, few vestiges appear in the present diminished and patched-up building; yet some marks of former magnificence meet the observer, in a long vaulted hall, with a music gallery at the end, a large Gothic window with stone compartments, and the massive oak beams of a long passage. The extensive manors that were attached to Perthir, and which, as tradition relates, extended from thence to Ross, now exhibit but a sorry remnant of past opulence.

Mr. Lorimer, the present possessor of the estate, and a descendant of the Herberts by the female line, merrily relates an anecdote rising out of a contest for precedence between the houses of Perthir and Werndee; and which, it has been remarked, was carried on with as much inveteracy as that between the houses of York and Lancaster, and was only perhaps less bloody, as they had not the power of sacrificing the lives of thousands in their foolish quarrel. Mr. Proger, of Werndee, in company with a friend,returning from Monmouth to his home, was suddenly overtaken by a violent storm; and, unable to proceed, groped his way for refuge to his cousin Powell’s, at Perthir. The family was retired to rest; but the loud calls of the tempest-beaten travellers soon brought Mr. Powell to a window; and a few words informed him of his relation’s predicament; requesting a night’s lodging: “What! is it you, cousin Proger? you and your friend shall be instantly admitted;—but upon one condition, that you will never dispute with me hereafter upon my being the head of the family.”—“No, sir,” returned Mr. Proger, “were it to rain swords and daggers, I would drive this night to Werndee; rather than lower the consequence of my family.” Here a string of arguments was brought forward on each side; which however interesting to the parties, would prove very trifling in relation; and which, like all other contests grounded in prejudice and proceeded in with petulance; but served to fix both parties more firmly in their errors. They parted in the bitterest enmity; and the stranger, who had silently waited the issue of the contest, in vain solicited a shelter fromthe storm; for he was a friend of cousin Proger’s!

Leaving Perthir, we soon passed through the little village of Newcastle, which derives its name from a castle that may still be traced in an earthen mound 300 feet in circumference, and some intrenchments, but whose history no tradition reaches. This barrow, and an ancient oak of extraordinary size, are considered by the superstitious neighbourhood to be under the immediate protection of spirits and fairies, and to form the scene of their nocturnal revels. A spring near the village is deemed miraculous in the cure of rheumatic and other disorders.

Within a mile from this place we struck off the turnpike towardsScrenfrith Castle, situated on the banks of the Monnow, in a sequestered spot environed by high hills. This fortress is of the simplest construction; its area, of a trapezium form, is merely surrounded by a curtain wall with circular towers covering each angle, and a demi-turret projecting from the middle of one side. Near the centre of the area is a juliet, or high round tower, upon a mound, which formed the keep, the door and window apertures ofwhich are circularly arched; but the exterior walls of the castle appear to have been originally only furnished with oilets or chinks for shooting arrows through. Encumbered by the lowly habitations of a poor village, it has little claim to picturesque merit from most points of view; but on the opposite side of the Monnow, combined with a Gothic bridge of two arches crossing the stream, it forms a pleasing picture. Screnfrith Castle is allowed to be the oldest in Monmouthshire; it is certainly of British erection, and is probably of as remote antiquity as any in Wales.

Screnfrith, Grosmont, and White Castles, formerly defended the lordship of Overwent; which, extending from the Wye to the Usk, nearly comprised the whole northern portion of Monmouthshire. This tract of country, with its castles, fell into the hands of Brian Fitz Count, Earl of Hereford, who came over with the Conqueror; but soon deviated from his family, and was afterwards seized by Henry the Third, and conferred on his favourite Hubert de Burgh. Upon the disgrace of that virtuous and able minister, the capricious monarch granted the three castlesto his son the Earl of Lancaster; and, with Caldecot castle, they still remain annexed to the dutchy.

The continuance of our journey to Grossmont, wandering in an irriguous valley among bye-lanes that were scarcely passable, although it proved very tedious in travelling, afforded us a succession of the most pleasing retired scenes imaginable. On our right a diversity of swells and hollows, variously clad in wild woods or cultivation, extended throughout our ride, where the lively and transparent Monnow, illumined by

“The noon-tide beamsWhich sparkling dances on the trembling stream,”

serpentized its current in endless variety. Immediately on our left, the Graig, a huge solitary mountain, reared its towering sides from the low lands in uncontended majesty, and accompanied our road to the pleasing little village ofGrosmont.

This place stands at the north-eastern limit of Monmouthshire, in an agreeable undulating valley, diversified with wood and pasture, and beautifully accompanied by the meandering Monnow, here wantoning itsmost fantastic course. On an eminence near the village, and swelling above the river, is the picturesque ruin of its castle; a pile of no great extent, but well disposed, and profusely decorated with shrubs and ivy. The form of the structure is irregular: large circular towers cover the angles of the ramparts; within which are traces of the baronial hall, and other apartments, and beyond the mount are some remains of the barbican, or redoubt, and several entrenchments. All the door and window arches are pointed Gothic, and of the proportion in use about the thirteenth century; but the foundation of the castle is supposed to be coeval with that of Screnfrith’s.—Grosmont church is a large Gothic structure, built in the form of a Roman cross; and, with its octagon tower, and high tapering spire, is a conspicuous ornament to the village.

Though now an insignificant cluster of habitations, Grosmont was formerly a town of some note. Many exterior traces of buildings, and raised causeways, constructed like Roman roads with large blocks of stone, diverging from it, prove its antique extent and importance to have been considerable: noris the legend of the place deficient in asserting its quondam consequence.

But with still higher interest, with more voluble earnestness, the natives recount the exploits of their reputed necromancer,John of Kent. Among a thousand other instances of his magical skill, they confidently assure you, that when he was a boy, being ordered to protect some corn from the birds, he conjured all the crows in the neighbourhood into a barn without a roof, and by force of his incantations obliged them to remain there while he visited Grosmont fair. A greater service that he performed for the country was, his building the bridge over the Monnow in one night by the agency of one of his familiars. Long did his strange actions frighten men out of their wits; and at length, dying, he outwitted the devil; for, in consideration of services while living, he agreed to surrender himself to his satanic majesty after his death, whether he was buried in or out of church; but, by ordering his body to be interred under the church wall, he contrived to slip out of the contract. A stone in the church-yard, near the chancel,is said to mark the spot of this interment.

Higher tradition relates, that this extraordinary-personage was a monk, who, possessing a greater knowledge in natural philosophy than could at that time be generally comprehended, was reputed a sorcerer. The family of the Scudamores, at Kentchurch-house, about a mile from Grosmont, where he became domesticated, had a Latin translation of the Bible written by him on vellum, but which is now lost. An ancient painting of him upon wood is, however, preserved in the mansion; and a cellar in the house is described to have been the stable of his horses; steeds of no vulgar pedigree, which carried him through the air with more than the speed of witches.

From a collation of different legends and circumstances, several respectable enquirers are inclined to believe, that this necromancer was no other than the famous Owen Glendower; who, after his defeat, and the dispersion of his army, concealed himself in the disguise of a bard, or wizard. A strong circumstance which favours this conjecture is,that the daughter of Glendower married a Scudamore, who at the time occupied Kentchurch-house. It may also be remarked, that neither the time of the chief’s death, nor the place of his sepulture, were ever positively ascertained.

Upon our return to Monmouth from this excursion, we had the good fortune to fall into the company of Mr. Wathen of Hereford, the benefit of whose local information and obliging assiduities has been felt by numerous tourists, as well as ourselves. This gentleman pointed out the most striking beauties of the Wye toward Ross; and of his directions we gladly availed ourselves the following morning, when we bade adieu to Wales and Monmouthshire. But, as it is my object to effect a general delineation of that tract of country, I shall not hesitate to break the thread of my tour, and suspend a description of the Wye’s scenery and some further continuance of our route, while I traverse the north-western part of Monmouthshire, and the eastern frontier of South-Wales, which yet remains unexplored. In this part of my work, I must describethings as they appeared to me six years since, when I visited this portion of country in my return from a tour through the North of England and Wales, assisted by the best documents and observations that I have since been able to procure.

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