It is gratifying to learn that there is no room for "improvement" at Clovelly, and there are fewer houses than there used to be.

Consequently there is nothing new and out of harmony. The cottages are really old and quaint, not as we expected to find them, imitations, like half the houses in Chester.

Even the "New Inn" is delightfully old, with queer little rooms and corners, and little weather-c.o.c.k figures above the sign, of the time of Nelson. It is a novel experience to arrive there in the dusk and walk (?) down the High Street to the sea. The most temperate will stumble and roll about as if he had sampled the cellar through, and ten to one but he doesn't finally take an unexpected header into the sea.

But granted he reaches the end of the little pier (which projects after the fashion of the "Cobb" at Lyme Regis), he will find a hundred lights from the cottages as if lanterns were hung on the hillside, their long reflections rippling in the water.

The place is as much a surprise as ever in broad daylight. One might be in Spain or Italy. Donkeys travel up and down the weed-grown cobble steps carrying projecting loads balanced on their backs. Indeed, one is quite surprised to hear the people speaking English, or rather Devonshire, the prettiest dialect. In the daylight the little balconied-houses overhanging the sea look more like pigeon-cots nailed to the steep rock, and one almost wonders how the inhabitants can get in. Long may Clovelly remain as it is now, the quaintest little place in England!

[Ill.u.s.tration: CEILING IN THE GOLDEN LION, BARNSTAPLE.]

The town of Barnstaple is an excellent centre for exploration, and the antiquity of the "Golden Lion" is a guarantee of comfort. It was a mansion of the Earls of Bath, and upon a richly moulded ceiling, with enormous pendants of the date of James the First, are depicted biblical subjects, including the whole contents of the Ark, or a good proportion of it. The spire of the church of SS. Peter and Paul looks quite as out of the perpendicular as the spire at Chesterfield. There are some good Jacobean tombs, but nothing else in particular.

The aged inmates of the almshouses point out the bullet-marks in their oaken door, made when the Royalists fortified the town in 1645. Lord Clarendon, who was governor of the town, tells us that here it was Prince Charles first received the fatal news of the battle of Naseby.

The prince had been sent to Barnstaple for security. The house he lodged at in the High Street was formerly pointed out, but has disappeared.

The poet Gay was a native of the town, and early in the nineteenth century some of his ma.n.u.scripts were discovered in the secret drawer of an old oak chair that had pa.s.sed from a kinsman on to a dealer in antiques who lived in the High Street.

Close to the town is Pilton, whose church is full of interest. The carved oak hood of the prior's chair, which dates from Henry VII.'s reign, serves the purpose now to support the cover of the font. At the side may be seen an iron staple to which in former years the Bible was chained. From the fine Gothic stone pulpit projects a painted metal arm and hand which holds a Jacobean hour-gla.s.s. The screen and parclose screen are also good, and the communion rails and table in the vestry are of Elizabethan date. The church pewter is also worth notice, as well as an old pitch pipe for starting the choir. The porch bears evidence that the tower was roughly handled when Fairfax captured Barnstaple in 1646. The existing tower was built fifty years later.

Nowhere have we seen so fine and perfect a collection of carved oak benches as at Braunton, a few miles to the north-west of Pilton. They are as firm and solid as when first set up in Henry VII.'s reign, and are rich in carvings, as is the graceful wide-spanned roof. One of the bosses represents a sow and her litter, who by tradition suggested the idea of the holy edifice being erected by Saint Branock. A window showing some of this good person's belongings, spoken of in the tenth commandment, is mentioned by Leland, but since then possibly some local antiquary may have disregarded what is forbidden in that ancient law.

Presumably there have been attempts also to annex the ruins of the patron-saint's chapel, for the villagers pride themselves that all attempts to remove them have failed. What an object-lesson to the jerry builders of to-day!

Farther to the north-west and we get to Croyde Bay, which perhaps one day may have a future on account of its open sea and sands. At present it looks in the early transition state.

Tawstock, to the south of Barnstaple, is said to possess the best manor, the n.o.blest mansion, the finest church, and the richest rectory in the county. Certainly the church could not easily be rivalled (the "Westminster of the West," as it is called) in its picturesque position, surrounded by hills and woods, with the old gateway of the manor-house, the sole remains of the original "Court," flanking the winding road which leads down to it: we almost feel justified in adding to these superlatives the "handsomest Jacobean tomb, and the most elaborate Elizabethan pew," but will not commit ourselves so far. The former, on the left-hand side of the altar, is that of the first Earl of Bath (Bourchier) and his wife. Above their rec.u.mbent effigies is a great display of armorial bearings, with sixty-four quarterings hung upon a vine, showing the intermarriages of the princ.i.p.al families of England.

There are many other fine monuments, that of Rachael, the last Countess of Bath, who died in Charles II.'s reign, representing a lifelike and exceedingly graceful figure in white marble. She was the daughter of Francis, Earl of Westmoreland, and married secondly, Lionel, third Earl of Middles.e.x, who predeceased her. The Elizabethan pew of the Bourchier-Wrays, lords of the manor, has a canopy, and is richly carved; but it was originally of larger dimensions. Close by are some fine bench-ends, one of which displays the arms of Henry VII. High aloft is a curious Elizabethan oak gallery by which the ringers reach the tower, upon which are carvings of the vine pattern, a favourite design in Devon. An early effigy in wood must not be forgotten, the rec.u.mbent figure of a female, supposed to be a Hankford, who brought the Tawstock estates into the Bourchiers' possession.

From northern Devonshire let us turn our attention to some nooks in the easternmost corner and in the adjoining part of Dorset.

Of all the villages along the coast-line here, Brans...o...b.. is the most beautiful and old-fashioned. Many of the ancient thatched and whitewashed cottages have Tudor doors and windows. Some of the best, alas! were condemned as being unsafe some fifteen years ago, among them one which in the old smuggling days had many convenient hiding-places for that industry, for Brans...o...b.. was every bit as notorious as the little bay of Beer. The church is, or was not long since, delightfully unrestored, for fortunately the good rector is one who does not believe in up-to-date things, and the sweeping changes which are rampant in places more accessible. It is the sort of comfortable old country church that we a.s.sociate with the early days of David Copperfield or with Little Nell. Truly the high box-pews are not loved by antiquarians, but is it not better to leave them than replace them with something modern and uncomfortable? If the original oak benches of the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries could be replaced, that is entirely another matter.

But they cannot, therefore let those who love old a.s.sociations not banish the Georgian pews without a thought that they also form a link with the past. The church is cruciform, and princ.i.p.ally of the Early English and Early Decorated periods, the old grey tower in the centre standing picturesquely out in the beautifully wooded valley. The village of Beer is also very charming, and the fisher folk fine types of men. It is delightful to watch the little fleet set sail; but in the summer the air in the tiny bay is oppressive, and the effluvia of fish somewhat overpowering. The extensive caves here have done good service in the smuggling days.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BINDON.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: BINDON.]

Another charming village is Axmouth, situated on the river which gives its name. Old-fashioned cottages with gay little gardens straggle up the hill, down which the clearest of streams runs merrily, affording delight to a myriad of ducks who dip and paddle to their hearts' content. The church has Norman features, and the tower some quaint projecting gargoyles. From the other side of the river at high tide the old church and cl.u.s.ter of cottages around it, backed by the graceful slope of Hawksdown Hill behind, make a charming picture. High up in the hills, through typical Devonshire fern-clad lanes, is Bindon, an interesting Tudor house containing a chapel of the fifteenth century. The entrance from the road, with its circular stone gateway and gables with latticed mullioned-windows peeping over the moss-grown wall, is charming, as are also the old farm-buildings at the back, in which an enormous canopied well is conspicuous. But more gigantic still is the well at Bovey, another Tudor house, near Beer, which bears the reputation of being haunted. But with the exception of some gables at the back, Bovey is less picturesque than Bindon, owing, perhaps, to the fact that the roof has been re-slated.

More interesting are the remains of old Shute House, which lies inland some six or seven miles. This was a far more extensive mansion, as will be seen by the imposing embattled gateway and a remaining wing, which rather remind one of a bit of Haddon. Here during the Monmouth Rebellion the Royalist commander Christopher, second Duke of Albemarle, encamped on June 18, 1685, the same day that the other duke, the boon companion of his wilder days, entered Taunton. The house belonged then, as it does still, to the De la Poles.

Most of the old houses hereabouts are a.s.sociated in some sort of way with the rebellion. Close upon the county border to the north-east stands Coaxden, a much modernised old farm, where stories are told of fugitives from Sedgemoor. How its occupant, Richard Cogan, being suspected as a Monmouth adherent, fled from his house to Axminster, where in the "Old Green Dragon Inn" the landlord's daughter secreted him between a feather-bed and the sacking of a bedstead. Kirke's "lambs"

traced him to the house, but failed to hit upon his hiding-place. The story ends as all such stories should, the girl who preserved his life became his wife. The house is further interesting as the birthplace in 1602 of Sir Symonds D'Ewes the historian.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WYLDE COURT.]

A couple of miles or so to the west is Wylde Court, another interesting old farmhouse, much less restored, dating from Elizabeth's reign, with numerous pinnacled gable ends and characteristic entrance porch and oak panelled rooms. This and Pilsdon, another Tudor house a few miles to the west, at the foot of Pilsdon Pen, belonged to the Royalist Wyndhams, and in the troublous times they were looked upon with suspicion, and searched on one or two occasions by the Parliamentary soldiers.

"h.e.l.lyer's Close," near Wylde Court, is so named because a Royalist commander, Colonel h.e.l.lyer, was taken prisoner and executed here by Cromwell's soldiers. At the time that Charles II., in 1651, attempted to get away to France from the coast of Dorset, Pilsdon was visited by a party of Cromwellian soldiers, and Sir Hugh Wyndham and his family secured in the hall while the house was thoroughly searched, suspicion even falling upon one of the ladies that she was the king in disguise.[26] Sir Hugh's monument may be seen at Silton in the extreme north corner of the county.

Chideock is a charming old-world village in the valley between Charmouth and Bridport, snugly perched between the cone-shaped eminence Colmer's Hill and Golden Cap, the gorse-covered headland, said to be the highest point between Dover and the Land's End. The castle of the De Chideocks and Arundells, a famous stronghold built in Richard II.'s reign, long since has disappeared, but its moat can be traced. The fine old church exteriorly is one of the most picturesque in Dorsetshire, but the inside has been much restored and modernised. A handsome tomb of Sir John Arundell in armour is in the south aisle.

Longevity seems to be the order of the day round "Golden Cap." At Cold Harbour we chatted with a hearty old man enjoying his pipe by his cottage door. He was close on eighty; but there was still a generation over his head, for his father, evidently to show his son a good example, was hard at work digging potatoes in the back garden. We solicited the honour to photograph the pair, and asked the elder of the two if he would have a pipe. No, he didn't smoke, but he could drink, he said; and so, of course, we took the hint, and he with equal prompt.i.tude toddled up the lane, as digging potatoes at the age of ninety-nine is thirsty work.

There is a deep picturesque lane near Chideock called "Skenkzies" which at night-time is particularly dark, and held in awe, for there are stories of evil spirits lurking about; and little wonder, for close at hand is a farmhouse called "h.e.l.l!" Old customs and superst.i.tions die hard in western Dorset. Forlorn and love-sick maidens as a special inducement for their lovers to appear, place their boots at right angles to one another in the form of a T upon retiring to roost. The charm is said to be irresistible; but there have been cases where it has failed, when the size has exceeded "men's eights."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAPPERTON MANOR-HOUSE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MELPLASH COURT.]

To the north-west of Bridport and the south-west of Beaminster are two old houses within a couple of miles of one another, the manor-houses of Melplash and Mapperton. The former, a plain Elizabethan gabled house, is said to have been one of the many residences of Nell Gwyn. Whether the old Hall of Parnham, the seat of the Strodes, was honoured by a visit of the Merry Monarch we do not know. If so, it is possible Nell may have been housed at Melplash. Mapperton is a remarkably picturesque house, with projecting bays and a bal.u.s.traded roof, above which are little dormer windows. Part of the house is evidently Jacobean and part dates from the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, and the combination of styles, the niched entrance gates surmounted by eagles, the ornamental pinnacles, and the "upping-stock" beside the wall, make a most fantastic whole. It was once the seat of the c.o.ker family.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WATERSTONE.]

There are some interesting old mansions within a few miles of Dorchester. Wolverton or Wolfeton manor-house, for example, and Waterstone and Athelhampton, the last two of which appear in Nash's _Mansions_. Each one is entirely different from the other. Waterstone is a small late-Elizabethan or early-Jacobean house, with a quaint bal.u.s.traded bay over the entrance porch, and some elaborate and graceful stonework upon a projecting gable that stands at right angles to it.

This presumably was once the princ.i.p.al entrance. It is certainly quite unique and somewhat perplexing. At Wiston House in Suss.e.x we remember having seen some very elaborate Elizabethan ornamentation upon a gable which really had no business there, although the effect was very pleasing: and here, perhaps, we have the same sort of thing. Wolverton is a fine early-Tudor building with battlemented tower and a stately array of lofty mullioned windows, and careful restoration has added to its picturesque appearance.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ATHELHAMPTON.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ATHELHAMPTON.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ATHELHAMPTON.]

But sympathetic restoration may be seen at its best at Athelhampton. We took some photographs many years ago, when it was occupied as a farmhouse, and upon a recent visit could scarcely recognise it as the same. Not that the house has been much altered exteriorly, but the quaint old-fashioned gardens, with pinnacled Elizabethan walls, ancient fish-ponds and fountains, have sprung up and matured in a manner that had one not seen the gardens as they were, one would scarcely credit it.

Wonders have been done within as well, and the great hall is very different from what it was before the present owner came into possession. There are suits of armour and Gothic cabinets to carry us back to the days of doublet and trunk-hose and square-toed shoes. Where formerly were pigsties is now a terrace walk, and the quaint old circular dovecot has been carried off bodily and planted where it balances to best advantage. But one thing we should like to see, and that is the ancient gatehouse that was standing in Nash's time. There is his drawing to go by, and where everything has been done in such excellent taste one need have little fear that in a few years a new building would settle down harmoniously with the rest.

Close by is Puddletown, a pretty old village with a remarkable church, where, as at Athelhampton, everything is in harmony. It is the sort of church one reads about in novels, yet so seldom meets; and now we come to think of it, this village does figure in a popular Wess.e.x novel.

Doubtless there are some lovers of ecclesiastical architecture who would like to see the Jacobean woodwork cleared out and _modern_ Henry VII.

benches introduced to make the whole coeval. The towering three-decker pulpit is delightful, and so are the ancient pews, and the old gallery and staircase leading up to it. Within the Athelhampton chapel are mailed effigies, and several ancient bra.s.ses to the Martin family who originally owned the mansion.

Bere Regis church, some six miles to the east of Puddletown, is also remarkable, particularly for its open hammer-beam roof from which project huge life-size figures of pilgrims, cardinals, bishops, etc., and monster heads suggestive of the pantomime. The whole is coloured, and the effect very rich and strikingly original. One can imagine how the younger school-children must be impressed with these awe-inspiring figures looking down upon them with steady gaze. There are two fine canopied tombs (one containing bra.s.ses dated 1596) to the Turburvilles, who possessed a moiety of the lordship since the Conquest. Their old manor-house, a few miles south at Wool, a red-brick Jacobean gabled house with roomy porch in which a great pendant is conspicuous, picturesquely situated by an old bridge and the winding reed-grown river, has of recent years obtained notoriety by Mr. Thomas Hardy's pen.

We photographed the old house some years ago before it had been thus immortalised. Upon a recent visit we found the house desolate and empty.

Had the good farmer flown in consequence, and sought an abode that had not become a literary landmark?

But the vicinity of Bere Regis had obtained notoriety of a tragic kind many centuries before the birth of _Tess of the d'Urbervilles_, for that very undesirable lady, Queen Elfrida, retired there for peace and quietness after various deeds of darkness, one of which, according to the _Annals_ of Ely, is said to have been inserting red-hot nails into Abbot Brithnoth's armpits; and from Lytchet Maltravers to the east of Bere came Sir John Maltravers to whose tender mercies the unfortunate Edward II. was delivered before he was done to death at Berkeley Castle.

Sir John's monument is in the church; but as it was not the fashion in those days to enumerate the various virtues of the departed in laudatory verse, this particular act of charity is not recorded in suitable effusion.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MONMOUTH'S TREE.]

Wimborne Minster to the north-east is too world-famed to call for any particular description here, but a word may be said about the first Free Library in the country. In past days, when there was no good Mr.

Carnegie to cater for the welfare of millions, nor the finest cla.s.sics to be purchased for sixpence, it was only natural, books being rare, that the local authorities should not have placed the same implicit trust in would-be readers as is shown by the British Museum Library authorities. The rusty iron chains securing the aged tomes to an iron rod above the queer old desks even after the lapse of centuries would hold their own. The literature cannot be said to be of a much lighter nature than the bulky volumes in weight. The rarest specimens are placed in gla.s.s cases, and are calculated to make the mildest bibliomaniac full of envy. Before the Reformation the Minster was rich in holy relics, conspicuous among which was a part of St Agatha's thigh. One of the most curious things still to be seen is a coffin brilliantly painted with armorial devices, placed in the niche of a wall, which according to the will of the occupant has to be touched up from year to year; and thus the memory of the worthy magistrate, Anthony Ettrick, is kept more actively alive than good King Ethelred who rests beneath the pavement by the altar. Ettrick lived at Holt Lodge near Woodlands, a few miles away in the direction of Cranborne; and when the Duke of Monmouth was captured in rustic garb in the vicinity, he was brought before the magistrate and removed from Holt to Ringwood, where at the "Angel Inn"

the room in which he was kept prisoner is still pointed out. We have elsewhere described the old ash tree near Crowther's Farm beneath which the unfortunate fugitive from Sedgemoor was found. It is propped up, and has lost a limb, but is alive to-day, and surely should be protected by a railing and an inscription like other historic trees. To the north is St. Giles, the ancestral home of the Earls of Shaftesbury, the first representative of which t.i.tle, Anthony Ashley Cooper, worked so skilfully on Monmouth's ambition. When the Merry Monarch visited the n.o.ble politician at St. Giles, he little thought that his favourite son would be taken a prisoner as a traitor within only a mile or so of the mansion. A memento of the royal visit is still preserved in the form of a medicine chest that the king left behind, which in those days doubtless contained some of his favourite specific "Jesuit drops."

Another historic mansion is Kingston Lacy, to the west of Wimborne, the old seat of the Bankes family, which is rich in Stuart portraits as well as other valuable works of art. It is a typical square comfortable-looking Charles II. house, with dormer-windowed roof and wide projecting eaves. The staunch Royalist, James Buder, the great Duke of Ormonde, lived here in his latter years, and died here in 1688. The duke's intimate friend, Sir Robert Southwell, has left a graphic account of the last hours of the good old n.o.bleman, which he concludes with the following:--"His Grace could remember some things that pa.s.sed when he was but three years old. He was only four years old when his great-great-uncle Earl Thomas died in 1614, but he retained a perfect remembrance of him. That Earl lived in the reigns of King Henry the Eighth, King Edward the Sixth, Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, and King James; and His Grace had seen King James the First, King Charles the First, King Charles the Second, and King James the Second; so that between them both they were contemporary with nine princes who ruled this land!"[27]

FOOTNOTES:

[26] See _Flight of the King_.

[27] _Hist., MSS. Com. Rep._ 7 App. p. 758.