Do the walkers along the Wye Valley Way realise they are plunging into a Gothic landscape when they make their way around the great bend of
the river surrounding the Lascaut peninsula? Perhaps not, considering half of its journey through Piercefield is closed at the moment for 'path
works' - heaven knows how long for.
Valentine Morris inherited Piercefield in 1743 but only moved there after ten years. Disappointingly he seems to have been less thoroughly mad
than several of our Gothic Gardeners, but was rather an improving sort of landowner, with a burning interest in bettering the roads of
Monmouthshire - in 1771 he even fought, and lost, a by-election to be the county's MP on the issue. Thankfully for the reputation of Gothic
Gardening, Morris was an outsider - a Creole, no less - who never fitted in with English society. Finding life at home impossible, he became
Governor of St Vincent, but had to surrender the island to the French, and returned to London in the 1780s near-bankrupt from gambling,
political adventuring, and hopeless generosity. His wife ended in a madhouse, and Morris himself died in poverty in 1789 having had to sell
Piercefield five years before. It was in those 19 years when he was resident on the estate that he developed the network of paths, views and
features that make the area a Gothic Garden.
Trips along the Wye Valley were increasingly part of the home tourism circuit from the 1740s, excitable 18th-century romantics taking in the
ruins of Tintern Abbey as well as the wooded gorges by the river. Piercefield Park happened to include a near-circular sweep of the Wye which
left a bowl of verdant farmland surrounded by towering cliffs: Morris caught the bug and provided visitors with a means of viewing this
landscape, which cried out for a little dramatisation. In contrast to the precipices and drama of the walks, the house sat in parkland which was
gentleness itself.
the river surrounding the Lascaut peninsula? Perhaps not, considering half of its journey through Piercefield is closed at the moment for 'path
works' - heaven knows how long for.
Valentine Morris inherited Piercefield in 1743 but only moved there after ten years. Disappointingly he seems to have been less thoroughly mad
than several of our Gothic Gardeners, but was rather an improving sort of landowner, with a burning interest in bettering the roads of
Monmouthshire - in 1771 he even fought, and lost, a by-election to be the county's MP on the issue. Thankfully for the reputation of Gothic
Gardening, Morris was an outsider - a Creole, no less - who never fitted in with English society. Finding life at home impossible, he became
Governor of St Vincent, but had to surrender the island to the French, and returned to London in the 1780s near-bankrupt from gambling,
political adventuring, and hopeless generosity. His wife ended in a madhouse, and Morris himself died in poverty in 1789 having had to sell
Piercefield five years before. It was in those 19 years when he was resident on the estate that he developed the network of paths, views and
features that make the area a Gothic Garden.
Trips along the Wye Valley were increasingly part of the home tourism circuit from the 1740s, excitable 18th-century romantics taking in the
ruins of Tintern Abbey as well as the wooded gorges by the river. Piercefield Park happened to include a near-circular sweep of the Wye which
left a bowl of verdant farmland surrounded by towering cliffs: Morris caught the bug and provided visitors with a means of viewing this
landscape, which cried out for a little dramatisation. In contrast to the precipices and drama of the walks, the house sat in parkland which was
gentleness itself.
The northern entry to the walks was through these
lowering gateposts
lowering gateposts
This could be the Lover's Leap which was a feature of this Gothic
Garden as of others - the drops and falls of Piercefield make me
decidedly edgy.
Garden as of others - the drops and falls of Piercefield make me
decidedly edgy.
| Occasionally the trees clear and a glimpse of the strangely enclosed landscape the walks were designed to show off emerges. |
Eventually the path brings you to the Giant's Cave. Like similarly-named features in other
places, it would only fit a very modest giant indeed, and in fact the swarming bees we
encountered there were much more menacing.
places, it would only fit a very modest giant indeed, and in fact the swarming bees we
encountered there were much more menacing.
This strangely-decorated standing stone
may be the remains of the 'Druid's
Temple' which was once a feature of the
walks. Its modern adornment with
Aboriginal-style symbols by some recent
visitor seems entirely in keeping with the
mysterious atmosphere Mr Morris was
aiming to capture - even though he would
never have thought on these particular
lines.
may be the remains of the 'Druid's
Temple' which was once a feature of the
walks. Its modern adornment with
Aboriginal-style symbols by some recent
visitor seems entirely in keeping with the
mysterious atmosphere Mr Morris was
aiming to capture - even though he would
never have thought on these particular
lines.
Compare the little Grotto, looking out over Piercefield Wood - or at
least it would do if the trees were cut back - with the Dropping
Well at Hackfall or even St Anne's Well at Chertsey. It's clearly
been bought from a sort of catalogue of romantic garden features,
so closely does it resemble other sites. The Grotto sits on the
western flank of a perfectly genuine Iron Age enclosure or hillfort
within the Park boundaries, one of two. What the antiquity of the
standing stone on its northern edge might be, though, is anyone's
guess.
least it would do if the trees were cut back - with the Dropping
Well at Hackfall or even St Anne's Well at Chertsey. It's clearly
been bought from a sort of catalogue of romantic garden features,
so closely does it resemble other sites. The Grotto sits on the
western flank of a perfectly genuine Iron Age enclosure or hillfort
within the Park boundaries, one of two. What the antiquity of the
standing stone on its northern edge might be, though, is anyone's
guess.
Not far off the main path you can glimpse these
sad, twisted rails - important to note, as they mark
the old route from the walks to the house. The
Piercefield House Valentine Morris knew was
rebuilt by his successors and designed by the
great Sir John Soane. The walks were
disrepaired by 1850, the estate was sold in
1926, and the mansion fell into disuse and
finally ruin. In a brutal irony of time it has now
become a feature in its own Gothic landscape.
sad, twisted rails - important to note, as they mark
the old route from the walks to the house. The
Piercefield House Valentine Morris knew was
rebuilt by his successors and designed by the
great Sir John Soane. The walks were
disrepaired by 1850, the estate was sold in
1926, and the mansion fell into disuse and
finally ruin. In a brutal irony of time it has now
become a feature in its own Gothic landscape.
| The suite was completed by a Temple, demolished about 1800, and a Cold Bath, which is still there but off a bit of the path currently (2009) inaccessible. |
| Outside Piercefield proper, the Duke of Beaufort added another feature in 1828: the 365 Steps, which lead up to the Eagle's Nest on the top of Wyndcliff, affording views out over the whole of the Lascaut bowl. With its stone steps, bridge and cleft rocks, it stops just short of being completely terrifying. |
Piercefield lacks the cleverness of Hackfall and
the sheer madness of Hawkestone, but I found
it the most frightening Gothic Garden I've
managed to visit. The paths skip perilously
close to awful drops which tempt the frail mind
to abandon its hold on life, and the house and
outbuildings are somehow remarkably horrid
and desperate ruins. It is, as they say, worth
seeing, and thinking on.
the sheer madness of Hawkestone, but I found
it the most frightening Gothic Garden I've
managed to visit. The paths skip perilously
close to awful drops which tempt the frail mind
to abandon its hold on life, and the house and
outbuildings are somehow remarkably horrid
and desperate ruins. It is, as they say, worth
seeing, and thinking on.
