North Devon And Wells

( Originally Published Early 1900's )

FROM Exeter I crossed over to Barnstaple, on the North Devon coast, going from water to water, or from the river Exe to the Taw River, in about two hours. An old Cornish rebel once threatened to cut England through by a channel here, and to make South Devon and Cornwall an island ; this would have been a " Dutch Gap " with a vengeance. But forty miles or less of canal, through a country presenting few difficulties, were no such great thing after all. The ride was through a thoroughly pastoral country, with great numbers of sheep and red Devon cattle feeding in the meadows. The first sight of the river, bridge, and tall tower of Barnstaple was pleasing ; and I found it to be a lively little town, with the invariable one long street, and the two hotels of the " Golden Lion " and the " Fortescue Arms," side by side, in spirited but harmonious rivalry.

Bideford, eight miles and a half from Barnstaple, looked even now, as Kingsley has so vividly de scribed it in his " Westward Ho ! " and I really seemed myself to have seen it before, and to have strolled on its long quay. It is one of those old gray sea-coast towns that do not essentially change, reminding one somewhat of Ayr in Scotland. The tide comes pouring in magnificently up the wide estuary of the Torridge River, and churning through the many-arched stone bridge, whose builders, according to the chronicler of Sir Amyas, gained from the good bishop Grandison of Exeter, " participation in all spiritual blessings forever." This famous bridge is an eighth of a mile long, with twenty-four arches, solid and without ornament. The town clusters in the form of an amphitheatre upon the steep hillside, from the summit of which is a wide river and sea-view ; and one might easily fancy he saw in some ship melting into the bright sunset light, the good ship Rose, as she was setting forth on her long voyage to the golden regions of the Western Main. The river, the sea, the sun, all here say " Westward Ho ! "

I rode to Clovelly, around through Yeovale, by ' Northam Tower " and " Pebble Ridge," at which last place Ocean has done what Brunel could hardly have done under the same conditions, built a straight wall of rounded pebble-stones, regularly laid with a flat top, two miles long, which serves as an effectual bar to her encroachments, at the same time immovable and permeable, — " the labor of an age in piled stones." It is strange that this hint which Ocean has given of constructing sea-walls of round pebble or paving stones, simply heaped together in a compact form, has not been copied by man.

The road to Clovelly was a flowery pathway, fringed with the sweet honeysuckle, and all varieties of ferns, the foxglove, the key-flox, the canker bramble, the blossoming furze, the wild strawberry, and many other wild flowers and shrubs, that continually attract the attention by their beauty and profusion. And what splendid posting roads ! How smoothly we bowled along, up hill and down, passing farmers in their small wagons, driving with the same free rein, with an air of substance and solid independence about their whole establishment. As we rose upon the hills and neared the edge of the coast, fine views of the wide, foam-fringed expanse of Bideford Bay opened to us ; and I recall the view especially from " Buck's Cross," where the sight of the bright blue sea beyond the dark cliffs, gives that strong contrast of colors, which is peculiar to Devon. We turned into a private road called " The Hobby," which, as far as it goes, is the most beautiful in England, or indeed in the world. It runs for more than three miles along the edge of the cliffs, and through the oak forests with splendid sea-views, carpeted on either side by crimson heather-bells, crossing deep ravines wooded entirely down to the sea, and abounding in sharp angles and sudden glimpses of wondrous beauty, until the little village of Clovelly is reached, perched like a bird's-nest in the notch of the high sea-wall, to which one descends by a steep path, which is continued through the village to the shore by a flight of irregular, break-neck slippery steps. The woods hang darkly over this curious street, or crevice in the rocks, where these human " hanging-birds " have built their habitation. One can hear at night the song of the night-birds out of the dense forest overhead, and the roll of the sea far under one's feet.

I stopped at the " Heart of Oak " Inn, and had a dinner of fine fresh fish and " clouted cream." I talked with the fishermen drying or mending their nets, along down the narrow rough street or "Jacob's Ladder " to the sea. One old " trawler " said to me, " It will be wet weather soon, sir ; we see the coast of Wales too clear." The view from the village stairs, of the sea, with the long, angular mass of " Lundy Island " blue in the distance, and the Bristol Channel away even to the coast of Wales, is grand ; and the sight is equally fine from the sea-beach below, looking up at the huge wall-like precipices jutting out magnificently into the sea. I then walked to "Clovelly Court," anciently owned by the Cary family, and now in possession of Sir J. H. Williams. One enters it by the " Yellaries Gate " above the village, and the way is on the clean springy turf under the shadow of the oaks, through one of those noble and reposeful English parks from which all that is unsightly has been removed, and all that Nature has to do is, to grow more and more beautiful year by year, or, one might say, century by century. " Clovelly Court " itself is a substantial mansion, but nothing remark-able architecturally. In the old garden I asked permission to pluck two red roses, which I did in remembrance of Sir Amyas and of sweet Rose Salterne. Indeed it were useless to attempt to de-scribe this place, and the romantic region about, and above all the cliffs, that sweep up by long, green curves to the edge of the coast, and then break off by a sheer perpendicular descent of from five hundred to a thousand feet into the sea, and stand to receive the force of the Atlantic ; screening behind their mighty barriers the loveliest, warmest, greenest vales and nooks ; for Kingsley, in his romance, which palpitates with the life and poetry of the great Elizabethan age, and also in that wonderful piece of word-painting in " Fraser's " on " North Devon," has done this once for all, and has made this region his own forever, just as truly as Walter Scott has set his signet upon Loch Lomond, and the highlands of Scotland. Others come and view these scenes as it were through them and by their grace. Genius makes all things it loves its own forever. I was shown among the woods, the house where Charles Kingsley lived as a boy, and was brought up to be a rover in these forests, exploring the sombre ravines, — haunts of the red deer, — fishing the streams, and delighting in this turbulent ocean that rolls beyond all. I cannot conceive of a fitter spot to nourish a poet. How different from meagre Haworth, or flat, marshy, uninteresting Olney 1 One part of oui ride back to Bideford was through a deep lane where the bank and hedge on either side rose high above our heads, and the trees fairly overarched the narrow road. We passed the house of a Mr. Yeo of Appledore, now a successful retired merchant, who had once been a poor apprentice boy. Was he of the family of " Salvation Yeo " ?

Ilfracombe is the North Devon Newport ; but it is more like Marblehead in Massachusetts, in its curious rocks and irregular formation. The mountainous rocks, black, twisted, upheaved, and knife-edged, inclose a small, square, completely land-locked harbor, where the masts of tiny craft lie thick together, and into which fumes the sturdy little coasting steamer, which, with the boats darting around, make it a lively scene.

The frowning hills about are sharply escarped, rugged, and broken. Off the rocks the water is deep sea-green, roaring and breaking with the full force of the open sea. There is one handsome villa across the harbor and a pretty modern stone church ; the houses cluster around wherever they can, dodging the rocks. A picturesque old light-house, which in ancient Catholic days was a shrine of St. Nicholas, is a resort of visitors. The " Capstan-road," as it is called, is a noble promenade, cut around the face of a high precipice, commanding an expansive sea-view, and a bold coast-view of rugged and splintered rocks. Here ladies sit in snug corners, wrapped up in shawls, while young gentlemen, equally enveloped and comfortable, read loud to them, like a veritable picture of John Leech. One could never tire of these rocks and this sea-view.

The ride from Ilfracombe to Lynton also abounds in fine views of the ocean opening suddenly between the green hills ; and never more than on this North Devon coast does one realize the beauty of the old British name of England— "the sea-defended green earth." The sea asserts here its personality — it makes itself felt as an element of Old England's character and history ; and it is everywhere present as a mighty and all-encircling power, holding England in its em-brace, claiming it as a child, and shaping by its ever-present influence the destiny of the English people.

The road to Lynton is a lonely one, abounding in deep, short valleys, and, as one approaches the town, has a character of romantic wildness and beauty.

Lynton, which is another much frequented place, is on the top of a huge green cliff, or, it might be called, mountain, while Lynmouth lies immediately below at the entrance of the gorge of the Lyn, where it empties into the sea. I walked down about the time of sunset into this gorge of the Lyn, where the sound of the little torrent mingles with the sea. The scenery here has been called by Southey " alpine." The vast bulk of the Lyn cliff, clad with gloomy firs at the base, caught the bronzed light of the setting sun, which came out at last with intense brightness, painting itself in the most gorgeous colors on the stormy clouds ; in front lay the wildly tossing sea, softening somewhat as the sun went down, and toward the northwest was the opposite Welsh coast, growing fainter and fainter in the distance ; the strip of pebbly beach at the mouth of the river sparkled under the great red rock, and immediately beneath the cliff was moored a small vessel whose sail hanging idly also caught the deep crimson light ; fishing-stakes ran out into the water in a wide semi-circular sweep, and an old square marine tower completed the picture.

This torrent of the Lyn is made of the streams of the East and West Lyn, which a little further back make a junction, forming the beautiful rapids of " Watersmeet," in the estate belonging to Lady Herries. The water pouring over innumerable rocks, makes so many separate jets of milk-white foam, which is contrasted with the dark luxuriance of the overhanging trees, and the profusion of rich and delicate ferns ; every leaf is wet and polished ; rustic bridges here and there help you to ascend the wild little stream. I followed up the West Lyn for some way, until the gorge widens, and I came out under the great Lyn cliff, which on the west side of the stream is one dense mass of foliage. Here is a fine clear fall, and gray rocks strewed about, making the very temple of solitude and of natural beauty. On returning, one gets a glimpse of the sea, rimmed in between the sharp slopes of the ravine.

I will not speak of other excursions which I made out of Lynton, further into the hills lying on the edge of the " Exmoor forest region, and about the desolate rocks of this romantic coast; but no one knows what English coast-scenery is until he has seen the North Devon shore. It is far bolder and grander than the opposite southern Devonshire coast, which is the usual resort of English tourists. The colors are richer, the cliffs higher and more grandly precipitous, the sea of a deeper ocean green, and all the forms of Nature are on a much larger scale. The hills pile up here in enormous parapets as they break off suddenly seaward, making a long wall of stupendous precipices. And yet the inland sides of these cliffs, as has been said, are beautifully rounded with steep slopes and vales of the richest green. The village of Lynton hangs suspended on one of these round steep hill-sides, and the view from the grounds of Castle Hotel is charming over the long sweeps of steeply sloping meadows dotted with neat white farmhouses.

What is called the " North Walk " about the " Lyn-cliff" has been laid out with the boldest skill and taste. The walk which winds around the face of the crag is so perpendicular in places that if one should fall over he would sink I know not how many fathoms deep in the green ocean depths. The sea-gulls wheel fiercely about you as if you were an intruder in their solitary dominions, and there is nothing beyond or in sight but the lonely sea.

There are some steep pitches in the road shortly after leaving Lynton up which one wonders how even spirited English coach-horses could ever drag a mail-coach. One passes over the huge slopes of the Exmoor hill region, abounding in sombre wooded ravines, with those wonderful glimpses of the sea every now and then at their narrow openings. The scenery about the valley of Porlock, in the neighborhood of the wild heathery forest region of " Dunkery Beacon " mountain, is peculiarly striking. Dunster Castle is a picturesque village, with an ancient many-gabled market-house, and the castle embosomed in foliage. As we journeyed in Somersetshire the region grew broader and less picturesque, but was still very beautiful, with its green meadows and farm-lands. It is a rich agricultural region. This is the headquarters of the English gypsies ; we encountered a gypsy wagon and small encampment. We also met a large pack of hounds belonging to some gentleman of the neighborhood, on their way to or from the field. There were several " Podgers " and " Todgers " upon the coach in checked clothes and jockey hats, each with a little glass in the corner of his eye, and all very similar, the one to the other, who talked knowingly of hounds and hunting ; but from something in the outer man, or the skeptical flings of Kingsley and the comical suggestions of Leech, one could not help having his suspicions about the profundity of their experience as bold followers of " St. Hubert," on the combes and wilds of Exmoor.

At Bridgewater we struck the Exeter and Briscal Railway. At this town of Bridgewater, the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth th was proclaimed king, and met his defeat at Sedgmoor, three miles distant. A little higher up I took the branch road off to Glastonbury and Wells.

The city of Wells, which we now visit, has a romantic situation on the southern slope of Mendip Hills, twenty miles equi-distant from Bath, Bristol, and Bridgewater. It takes its name from the ancient well dedicated to St. Andrew, which rises within the Episcopal grounds, and runs through the city down the sides of the principal streets in clear sparkling streams.

There is no place which, taken altogether, preserves a more antique air of tranquil seclusion than Wells. In the precincts of Chester Cathedral, and at many other points in England, there broods the same antique calm, but here the whole place is pervaded by this reposeful spirit of the past ; and this culminates in the neighborhood of St. Andrews' Cathedral, the Bishop's palace, the old moat, the conventual buildings, and the three venerable gates, or " eyes," as they are called, of the Cathedral yard. The moat about the Bishop's palace, overhung by a thick curtain of aged elms mingled with ivy, growing like a warrior's crest upon the high turreted interior walls, and reflected in deep shadows in the smooth dark mirror of the water, has a thoroughly feudal look, which is heightened by the drawbridge over the moat, and the frowning castellated gateway. How strange the state of society when a Christian bishop lived in such jealously armed seclusion, behind moated walls and embattled towers ! What a commentary, this very name " the close ! " One of these old bishops was himself a famous fighting character, who, at the age of sixty-four, commanded the king's artillery at the battle of Sedgmoor. Among the bishops of Bath and Wells were Thomas Wolsey, William Laud, Thomas Ken, and George Hooper. Bishop Beckington seems to have been the great architectural benefactor of the city itself. He built the two great gateways, the Bishop's palace, the " Pennyless Porch," which still bears his arms of the beacon and tun, and the market hall, in which the infamous Jeffries sat, and pronounced sentence upon the wretched followers of the defeated Duke of Monmouth. Within the quiet area of the " Bishop's close " are the ruined and lordly remains of the " Old Hall." One tall, slender, turreted fragment stands entirely by itself, and is wound tightly around by the clasping arms of the ivy that strive to hide its loneliness and decay. In the garden are shrubs and trees of " curling acacia," " Glastonbury thorn," cypress, and Turkish oak ; while great clumps of lilies perfumed the air. The view from the walls of the broad meadows in front of the " close " on which cattle were feeding, and laborers making hay, and the green wavy Mendip Hills with the Glastonbury Tor and the Dalcot Hill in the distance, was more than prettily English and rural, — it was beautiful, in the rich light of that glowing autumn afternoon. And there, too, near by, were the three great square towers and the ornamented bulk of the Cathedral.

The Cathedral of St. Andrew was built upon the site of a still more ancient church founded by Ina, king of the West Saxons in 704. It also goes back to a remote antiquity, for its choir and nave were rebuilt in the middle of the twelfth century. The central tower, which is the noblest and most finished part of the structure, is of the early English style to the roof ; the upper part is of the Dec-orated, with a mixture of the early Perpendicular styles. It has an elegant appearance from its rich pinnacles, and is of a softened and gray tint. Be-ginning to show signs of sinking, it was raised in the fourteenth century, and was strengthened by the introduction beneath it of inverted buttressing arches, which give to the interior a strange effect. These arches, architecturally considered, are undoubtedly blemishes, but they are on such a vast scale, and so bold in their forms, and yet so simple, that they do not take away from the plain grandeur of the interior. They are quite Oriental or Saracenic. The top of the eastern window is seen bright and glowing over the lower part of the upper arch. The west front, two hundred and thirty-five feet in length, has two square towers, with a central screen terminated by minarets, and is divided into distinct compartments of eight projecting buttresses; all of these projections and recessed parts are covered with rich sculpture and statuary, of which there are one hundred and fifty-three figures of life-size, and more than four hundred and fifty smaller figures. On the nine ascending tiers of sculpture pieces, one may trace, it is said, the successive order of subjects in the " Te Deum " of St. Ambrose : " The glorious company of the apostles praise Thee. The goodly army of the prophets praise Thee. The noble army of martyrs praise Thee," &c. The last tiers end with the representation of the Resurrection and Final Judgment. These statues, contemporaneous with the time of Nicholas Pisano, and the early Pre-Raphaelite artists, have the same purity and elevation of expression, and the same simple unadorned majesty, that belong to that period of sacred art. It was an earnest, childish, but sublime way of praising God, by attempting thus, step by step, with laborious and unwearied effort, to carve in en-during stone the ascending plan of human redemption. Let us not deride this simple expression of ancient faith which served doubtless for ages to help ignorant minds to spell out Divine truth on this great rough stone primer, while the living Word of God was kept from the people through misplaced awe, or worse, spiritual despotism. The doors of this magnificent west front are universally considered to be too small, and this is the chief fault of the building. The other most striking features of Wells Cathedral are the Chapter House and the Ladye Chapel. The first of these, on the rear of the church, is an octagonal structure with pinnacled buttresses at each angle. It is approached from the interior by a worn staircase of twenty steps of noble architectural design. Among the grotesque carvings that line the staircase, I remember in particular one queer old figure with a staff, or rather crutch, thrust in a dragon's mouth, supporting a column. While thus holding up the Cathedral with his head and hand above, and choking a writhing dragon beneath, he looks smiling and unconcerned as if it were an every-day affair with him, as indeed it is. The whole church abounds in these old sculptures, little demoniac figures with big heads, faces with enormous fish mouths, old men with packs on their backs, and angels with huge armfuls of flowers. They seem to let one into the interior chambers of fancy, the imaginative workings of the human mind in the dark ages. All these forms and faces, even to the stern " gargoyles " on the roof, have a simple earnestness, as if they were not meant to be frivolous or irreverent, but were the glimpses of natural fancies, protesting doubts, vain fears and poetic hopes, thrusting themselves through the awful rigid system of religious terrorism under which the mind was crushed. I have no doubt the carvers and masons worked on each according to his own mind, without much definite guidance or pattern-drawing from the superior architect, except in the general plan. Here one man has left the record of his remorse, and another of his aspiration, and another of his homely English wit and shrewd common-sense morality. The Chapter House is unexcelled for splendor, lightness, and simple majesty. From the central clustered column spring the series of intricate but harmonious traceried lines of the ceiling, each meeting in the ball-flower ornament overhead.

From its eight painted windows, this room is flooded with richly colored lights. The Ladye Chapel affords a fine perspective of pillars near its entrance, though it is not so remarkable as the Chapter House for beauty and boldness. The ceiling is newly gilded, and the choir, too, has a fresh new look with its modern tiles and brasses.

Wells Cathedral, on the whole, is distinguished for a dignified but rich simplicity, arising from its plain large surfaces, mingled and edged here and there with fine-cut and elegant ornamentation. The court and buildings of the Wells Theological College have a thoroughly quaint, old-fashioned look, quiet, rigid, and mediaeval ; as if the students reared there could not but be Churchmen of the " brother Ignatius " stamp, gentlemen, scholars, and — priests. I cannot leave Wells without speaking of the two splendid " cedars of Lebanon " standing in the environs of the church. They are not very tall, but they sweep the ground majestically, and grow in a series of broad heavy masses of foliage, gracefully undulating in their outline. Would that I might carry away from this ancient city and from its noble temple of Praise, something of the high and angelical spirit which is breathed in the good Bishop Ken's familiar " morning hymn : " —

"Awake, lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear thy part,
Who all night long unwearied sing
High praises to th' eternal King.

"Lord, I my vows to Thee renew:
Scatter my sins as morning dew;
Guard my first springs of thought awl wit
And with Thyself my spirit fill.

'Direct, control, suggest this day,
All I design, or do, or say;
That all my powers, with all their might
In Thy sole glory may unite."