Wanderings in Wessex by Edric Holmes

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The road from Bridport to Lyme Regis has been described as the best
and the worst in the south of England. For the occupant of a touring
car the way is a succession of changing views as charming as they are
varied. For a loaded horse the eight and a half miles of switchback
must be a long-drawn-out agony in which the descent of the last hill
into Lyme is worse than the terrible pull to its summit. The writer
knows this road only from the point of view--and pace--of the
pedestrian, and he knows of few more lovely or more tiring. Fanny
Burney described the drive as "the most beautiful to which my
wandering feet have sent me; diversified with all that can compose
luxuriant scenery, and with just as much approach to the sublime as is
in the province of unterrific beauty." The long ascent of "Chiddick"
Hill commences soon after leaving the mill pool just outside Bridport.
To the right, a turning leads to Symondsbury, where there is an old
cruciform church with a central tower and, in the chancel, the tomb of
Bishop Gulston, uncle of Addison. Away to the left and near the sea is
Eype in a delightful combe that ends in the sea at Eype Mouth. On Eype
Down is an ancient earthwork of much interest to archaeologists. It
was from this hill that Powell, the aeronaut, was blown out to sea in
a balloon nearly forty years ago.

[Illustration: CHIDEOCK.]

After a long wind round the side of Chideock Hill the high road
descends towards the village of that name. A stile on the left gives
access to a footpath to the "Seatown" of Chideock. The pedestrian
should enter the meadow to rest and admire the perfect view down the
V-shaped combe to the sea. Away to the left Thurncombe Beacon lifts
its dark summit. The answering height to the right is lordly Golden
Cap. Its well-named crown is more than 600 feet above the waves that
dash against Wear Cliffs below.

Chideock is a clean pleasant street of houses most of whose occupants
let lodgings or cater for the passing traveller in one way or another.
The Perpendicular church was restored in a rather drastic manner about
forty years ago; this brought to light a crude wall painting. At the
east end of the south aisle will be seen a black marble effigy of a
knight in plate armour. This is Sir John Arundell, an ancestor of the
Lords Arundell of Wardour in Wiltshire. The de Chideocks were the
original owners of the countryside and in a field beyond the church to
the north-east is the moat which once surrounded their castle,
dismantled soon after the close of the Civil War as a punishment for
the annoyance it caused the army of the Parliament in interfering with
the communications of Lyme. It changed hands several times during the
war, but while held by the Royalists it seriously compromised their
opponents on the west.

The Manor House is a seat of the Welds, a Roman Catholic family. In
the grounds of the manor is a very ornate church belonging to that
communion and a cemetery that has an interesting chapel, the walls of
which are covered with paintings.

The scenery is now becoming Devonian in character, of the softly
pleasant aspect of the south, lines of hill occasionally rising into
picturesque hummocky outline; wide troughed valleys richly timbered,
with mellow old farmhouses here and there about their slopes,
connected by deep narrow flowery lanes extraordinarily erratic in
direction, or want of it. The cider country is still far off, however;
for Dorset, though the soil and climate are well suited to it, has not
yet looked upon the culture of the apple as an important item in
farming, and orchards of any sort are few and small in size.

The Lyme road climbs up from Chideock round the steep face of Langdon
Hill and reaches its summit level, over 400 feet, about a mile out of
the village. In front, to the right, is Hardown Hill and to the left,
Chardown. Out of sight for the present, but soon to come into view
again, is Golden Cap which may be reached by one of the roundabout
lanes going seawards, with a short stiff climb at the last. The view
from the summit is as glorious as it is wide. In clear weather the
extremities of the great bay--Portland Bill and Start Point--can be
seen, and most of the beautiful coast between them. Passing between
Hardown and Chardown the road drops to Morecombelake, an
uninteresting village in a charming situation. The lane to the right
goes down to Whitchurch Canonicorum in Marshwood Vale. Here is the
interesting church of St. Wita (or St. Candida), Virgin and Martyr.
The chancel, part of the nave and south door are Transitional, about
1175, the transepts being built about twenty-five and the tower two
hundred years later. The chief interest in the church is the so-called
shrine of St. Candida opened twenty years ago during repairs to the
church wall. Within a stone coffin was found a leaden casket
containing a number of bones declared to be those of a small sized
female. Upon one side of the box was the following inscription:

Hic . Reqesct . Relique . sce . Wite

The bones were placed in a new reliquary and again deposited within
the restored shrine. The three openings in the front were made to
receive the offerings of the faithful and pilgrims from afar. There
are several monuments here to the De Mandevilles; John Wadham,
Recorder of Lyme (1584); Sir John Geoffry of Catherstone (1611) and
others. The terrific name of this small village simply indicates that
the canons of Salisbury and Wells claimed the parish tithes. Across
the valley from Whitchurch rise the outstanding eminences--"Coney"
(Conic or King's) Castle and Lambert's Castle, the latter crowned with
a fine clump of trees. The name of the valley seems to have deceived
some old writers into thinking it a region of chills and agues and of
cold sour soil. It has always been famous for its oaks, but perhaps it
may claim a greater fame as a minor Wordsworth country, for on the
north side of the vale is Racedown Farm, the home of the poet for
about two years. Dorothy Wordsworth said it was "the place dearest to
my recollections" and "the first home I had." Perhaps the most
striking view in this part of Dorset is that one from the Axminster
road at the point on Raymond's Hill called Red Cross. At dusk, when
the intervening fields and woods are shrouded in gloom, Golden Cap
takes on a startling shape against the evening sky. The huge truncated
cone and the separate bays on either side--mostly differing entirely
in colour--make the centre of as fine a prospect as any in the south.
This road, Roman for the most part, has the rare feature of a tunnel,
cut to make the steep ascent to Hunter's Lodge Inn practicable for
modern traffic.

[Illustration: CHARMOUTH.]

The Marshwood Vale ends at Charmouth, to which the road from
Morecombelake now descends round the northern slopes of Stonebarrow;
on the far side of this hill is the derelict parish of Stanton St.
Gabriel, with a ruined church and two or three cottages in a superb
situation under the shadow of Golden Cap. Charmouth is one long street
running up the hill on the Lyme side of the Char. It is one of those
pleasantly drowsy places that even the advent of the public motor from
Bridport fails to excite. That its restfulness is appreciated is
evidenced by the number of houses that let apartments. The distance
from the railway at Lyme and Bridport will effectually bar any
"development." Jane Austen's description still holds good:--"Its high
grounds and extensive sweeps of country, and, still more, its sweet
retired bay, backed by dark cliffs where fragments of low rock among
the sands make it the happiest spot for watching the flow of the tide;
for sitting in unwearied contemplation." (_Persuasion._)

The picturesque old George Inn on the right-hand side of the street is
sometimes pointed out as the lodging occupied by Charles II, but this
was at the "Queen's Arms" nearly opposite; it is now a Congregational
Manse. "Everything was in readiness for the departure at midnight, but
Captain Limbry, master of the ship, came ashore just after dark for
his luggage. Questioned by his wife he foolishly admitted that he was
concerned with the safety of a dark gentleman from Worcester. Without
more ado the good woman pushed him into his bedroom and turned the key
upon him." Charles and his friends waited in vain at the inn, the
"dark gentleman" as insouciant as ever, the rest of the party greatly
perturbed. Urgently advised by Ellesdon (organizer of the escape) to
wait no longer, the party took to the Bridport road, and so in the
early morning the fugitives rode up and down the hills these pages
have just traversed, in an endeavour to find sanctuary in a ship, the
only inviolable one, that they were not to gain until far distant
Brighthelmstone was reached.

[Illustration: LYME FROM THE CHARMOUTH FOOTPATH.]

Charmouth Church is as ugly as one would expect of an erection of the
last year of the Sailor King. Within are preserved some of the
monuments from the old building. It is said that a Roman station was
established somewhere on this hill, and that after fierce fighting in
the bay the Danes captured and held the Char valley for some years. It
is possible that many of the country people have a strain of the wild
northern blood in their veins. Close to the church and the Coach and
Horses Hotel, the unpretentious but comfortable hostelry on the left
of the street, a lane leads to the coastguard station and beach.

The shore can be followed to Lyme, but only at low water. By far the
best way is to keep to the high road, passing through the cutting made
in the hill for the better passage of the coaches, and named by the
more proper "Windy Gap," and by the rest "The Devil's Bellows." In a
storm the wayfarer is likely to be blown back to Charmouth. At the top
of the hill a path turns leftwards to the open cliff and affords the
traveller the most exquisite views of Lyme, the bay and the
surrounding hills. This path eventually rejoins the main road near the
cemetery. Within is a fine Celtic cross erected to commemorate those
who perished in the _Formidable_ in 1915.

It is only during the last twenty years that Lyme has found itself as
a popular resort. It must have been a tragic business to the select
few, that opening of the light railway from Axminster in 1903. Before
that time enthusiasts, among them Whistler and several other famous
artists, braved the six miles of rough road from the nearest station
to reach the picturesque old town on the Buddle, and possibly formed
some sort of league to keep their "find" dark. Happily the place is
still unspoilt and the hand of Jerry has not descended. The visitor
who arrives by the South Western after a delightful trip, all too
short, on the miniature Alpine line that burrows through hillsides and
swerves across valleys, over the last by a highly spectacular viaduct,
is agreeably surprised to find himself at a terminus while apparently
still in the wilds. If the little motor train went down to the seaside
it could never pant back again. But the eye is unoffended in the long
walk down the steep road to the shore, and in these days when the
canons of good taste seem to have some weight with property owners and
builders it is probable that the growth of Lyme will be effected with
circumspection. As it is, the snug little town is almost unaltered,
except for a slight and necessary clearance at the river mouth, from
the days when Louisa Musgrove lived at Captain Harville's house. Every
one who stays at Lyme must buy or borrow a copy of _Persuasion_. It is
wonderful how an old-fashioned tale such as this novel of Jane Austen
will delight and interest the most blase of readers when he or she can
identify the scenes depicted in its pages, and how the early Victorian
atmosphere of the book will seem to descend on the quaint streets that
have altered so little since it was written.

Lyme seems to have started life in the salt boiling line, and to
distinguish it from Uplyme was called Netherlyme-supra-mare. The first
patrons of the industry were the monks of Sherborne Abbey. This was in
the days of Cynwulf of Wessex. Five hundred years later it became
"Regis," a haven and chartered borough under Edward I, and from this
far-off time dates the unique stone pier called the "Cobb," restored
many times since. The town suffered much from French attacks and
revenged itself by sending ships to harry the commerce of the then
arch-enemy. The Cobb had been allowed to fall into such a state of
disrepair in the reign of Elizabeth that that irate lady refused to
renew the borough charter until the townsfolk made good the damage.
This was done and Lyme soon redoubled its importance in the eyes of
the Government, so much so that on the outbreak of the Civil War it
was looked upon as an almost indispensable possession both by
Royalists and Parliamentarians. Its vigorous resistance to the King is
one of the outstanding incidents of the war; Blake, afterwards
Admiral, conducting the marine defence. The beseiged were successful
after two months of the most desperate fighting, and the women of Lyme
proved Amazonian in the help they gave their menfolk. In 1672 the
Dutch gave the English fleet a trouncing within sight of the town.

The most famous event connected with the Cobb was the landing of
Monmouth thereon in June, 1685. The ill-starred prince knelt on the
stones and thanked God "for having preserved the friends of liberty
and pure religion from the perils of the sea." Not many days passed
before some enthusiasts from Lyme who had followed the gallant lad
were brought back to the Cobb and hanged there in sight of their
neighbours. John Tutchin, author of the _Observator_, was sentenced by
Jeffreys to be whipped through Lyme and every other town in the
county, to be imprisoned seven years, and pay a fine of one hundred
marks. He petitioned to be hanged, and was pardoned. But these poor
men were avenged three years later when William of Orange landed a
number of his troops on the same spot. A few days afterwards that
narrow, dull, conscientious, well-intentioned and wholly religious
Roman Catholic, James II, fled from his throne and country.

During early Hanoverian days Lyme seems to have languished.
Privateering; the trade with France and Spain; the industries of the
town, weaving and lace making; all dwindled to vanishing point. Half
the houses became ruinous, and the population had decreased to an
alarming extent when that saviour of half the old coastwise towns of
England--the valetudinarian--came upon the scene about 1770, and by
the commencement of the Victorian era Lyme had embarked upon a time of
modest but steady prosperity which still continues. Its fine air and
superb situation would, if the town were fifty miles nearer London,
result in "developments" that would soon ruin its character.

[Illustration: LYME BAY.]

Lyme church is Perpendicular, though the tower is far older, the
vestry room being part of the ancient church. Of much interest is the
tapestry on the west wall representing the marriage of Henry VII. On
the front of the gallery (1611) and on the Jacobean pulpit (1613) are
inscriptions setting forth the names of their donors and the dates.
The rood-screen is modern but the old double lectern is interesting;
chained to it is a "Breeches" Bible and Erasmus' "Paraphrase." One of
the stained-glass windows is a memorial to that celebrated daughter of
Lyme--Mary Anning, who with the enthusiasm of a greybeard hammered and
chipped at the cliffs around in a most ungirlish style, but to such
good purpose that she unearthed the Ichthyosaurus that now astonishes
the visitor to the Natural History Museum in Kensington.

In Pound Street is an auxiliary church that in 1884 was converted out
of a stable into the present beautiful and uncommon little building.
Of particular merit are the fine tapestries and the altarpiece of
Venetian mosaics. In Church Street stands an old house once belonging
to the Tuckers, merchants and benefactors of the town. It is now named
Tudor House and is really of that date, although its exterior hardly
looks its age. The Assembly Rooms at the end of Broad Street mark the
time when Lyme was starting upon a career of fashion. In the new Town
Hall erected on the old site to commemorate the first Victorian
Jubilee is an ancient door from the men's prison, and a grating from
the women's quarters, let into the wall; in the Old Market stands an
ancient fire engine and the stocks, removed here from the church. Near
by is the "Old Fossil Shop" devoted to the sale of fossils and fish,
as quaint a combination of trades as one could imagine. The old houses
around the Buddle are of dark and mysterious aspect. This part of the
town has always had a romantic air, here and there slightly flavoured
with squalor, though of late, especially about the course of the
river, improvements have effected a change. Curious customs of great
antiquity such as the Saxon Court Leet and the Court of Hustings, a
copy of a London civic institution dating from the first charter of
the town, have continued to present times.

The other famous girl of Lyme, besides Mary Anning, was Jane Austen,
who lived with her parents at Bay Cottage, the white house near the
harbour. Here it is supposed that _Persuasion_ was written. Captain
Coram, the bluff seaman and tender-hearted philanthropist who spent
his small fortune on the Foundling Hospital, and. Sir George Somers,
who colonized the Bermudas, were both local worthies. The latter died
in the West Indies, but his body was brought home to Dorset and buried
at Whitchurch Canonicorum.

The beautiful coast west of the Cobb is described in the next chapter,
but mention must be made of the Landslip Walk. Several falls of the
cliff, here resting on a precarious foundation of sand and blue has
clay, have from time to time occurred and have produced this wide
tract of broken and tumbled ground, only to be equalled in its
picturesque confusion by the better known Undercliff in the Isle of
Wight. The greatest "slip" took place in 1839 on Christmas Day and the
country people were awakened during the night by loud and continuous
noises like the rumble of distant artillery. It was found the next
morning that a chasm nearly a mile long and about 400 feet wide had
been formed parallel with the shore. This subsidence continued for a
couple of days and took with it, without loss of life, several
cottages. The wildly erratic disorder has been covered with a lovely
profusion of flowers and plants in the sheltered valleys and ravines
of this miniature Switzerland, and the whole undercliff as far as
Rousdon and beyond is a wonderland of beauty.

Uplyme, three-quarters of a mile beyond the station, is in Devon. This
may have been one of the pleas put forward a few years ago when
strenuous efforts were made to get Lyme Regis transferred to the
western county. The pretty village is about a mile and a half from
Lyme Esplanade on the Axminster road. The church has been judiciously
restored, but there is nothing of great interest to be seen apart from
the old yew tree in the churchyard. Not far away is a beautiful old
manor house called the "Court Hall"; it is now a farm house. The fine
porch and queer old chimneys make a picture worth turning aside to
see.

[Illustration: OTTERY CHURCH.]

CHAPTER VII

EAST DEVON

To go from one Dorset or East Devon coast town to another by rail
involves an amount of thought and a consultation of time-tables that
would not be required for a journey from London to Aberystwyth, and
unless the traveller hits on a particularly lucky set of connexions he
will find that he can walk from one town to the other in less time
than by taking the train. From Lyme to Seaton by the Landslip is
barely seven miles; by rail it is fifteen, involving two changes. From
Seaton to Sidmouth is nine miles by road and twenty-four by rail, with
two changes and a possible third. Each of these sections can be
comfortably tramped by the average good walker in a morning or
afternoon with plenty of time for "side issues" and rambling about the
towns themselves in the evening. One word of warning to those who
adopt this method of seeing their own land, the only effective way in
the writer's opinion. Do not be deceived into thinking that a mile on
the map is a mile on the road. In this country of hills and valleys
the distance can be added to considerably by these "folds in the
tablecloth." A contour map in colours such as Bartholomew's "half
inch" is a great help in this matter.

From Lyme the walk westwards by the cliff is, of course, the most
beautiful way. Our present route, by the high road, passes between
Rousdon, _the_ great house of the neighbourhood, and Combpyne, where
there is a station, the only one between Lyme and Axminster. This is a
pleasant place, lost between hills, and quite out of sight from the
railway. It has a church, built about 1250, with a gabled tower and
with a hagioscope in the chancel. The communion plate dates from
before the Reformation and is said to have been in constant use for
more than four hundred years. In the thirteenth century a convent
stood here; part of the buildings are now a farmhouse, but the
villagers still point out the "Nuns' Walk" close by. A series of
lonely and delightful lanes, difficult to follow without a good map
(directions given by a rustic require a super-brain to remember their
intricate details), lead down to the high road just short of the
bridge over the Axe. Here a turn to the right leads to picturesque old
Axmouth. The houses climb up a narrow combe down which tumbles a
bright stream from the side of Hawksdown, the hill which rises to the
north-east and is crowned by an ancient encampment. The church was
originally Norman, but only the north door and south aisle remain of
this period. In the chancel, which is in the Decorated style, is the
effigy of a priest within a recess, and in a chantry chapel a monument
to Lady Erle of Bindon. The curious wall paintings were discovered
during the restoration of the church some years ago. An old standard
measure for corn called the "Lord's Measure" is kept in a recess in
the churchyard wall. Turning to the left from the church are some
ancient cottages. On one of the chimneys will be seen the date 1570
and a motto: "God giveth all." Not far away is the entrance to
Stedcombe, a house designed by Inigo Jones, which replaced an older
building destroyed in the Civil War. Bindon, the home of Sir Walter
Erle, a famous officer of the Parliamentary army, is about a mile from
the village in the direction of the Landslip. It is a fine
sixteenth-century mansion, now a farmhouse, a chapel attached to which
is more than a hundred years older than the original building.

[Illustration: AXMOUTH FROM THE RAILWAY.]

A road by the east bank of the Axe leads in a mile to Seaton, which is
at the actual Axe mouth. This is a town almost without a history,
although it still makes the not-proven assertion that it is the site
of Moridunum. Some years ago the townsmen, with the idea that the
label is the principal thing, stuck the word along the Esplanade wall
in letters of black flint. Although the claim is not an impossible
one, the probabilities point to the junction of the two great roads,
the Fosse Way and the Icknield Way, near Honiton, as being the actual
site of the Roman station. The remains of a villa of this period,
together with various relics, pottery and coins, were found sometime
ago at a place called Hannaditches just outside the town, so that the
ubiquitous Latins were at any rate here.

Seaton is quite a different town to Lyme; it has practically no
ancient buildings and the few old cob cottages that made up the
original village have entirely disappeared. A "restoration" of the
church in 1866 destroyed most of the old features, including a
beautiful screen. The main fabric belongs to the Decorated period with
some Perpendicular additions and very scanty remains of the original
Early English building. The hagioscope in the chancel appears as a
window in the outer wall. The Perpendicular tower replaces an older
erection on the south side, of which the base alone remains. A flat
gravestone in the churchyard has the following curious inscription:--

JOHN STARRE

Starre on Hie
Where should a Starre be
But on Hie?
Tho underneath
He now doth lie
Sleepinge in Dust
Yet shall he rise
More glorious than
The Starres in skies

1633

The main streets of the town are pleasant enough, though most of the
houses are small and of the usual lodging-house type. Seaton depends
for its deserved popularity upon its open position, in which it
differs from most Devon and Dorset resorts; its bracing air, due to
the wide expanse of the Axe valley, and above all to the beautiful
surrounding country. Treasure hunts along the beach for garnets and
beryls are among the excitements of a fortnight in Seaton.

The unimposing way in which the Axe enters the sea will be remarked at
once. It is supposed that the Danes made use of the river mouth as a
harbour for their pirate ships and it was without doubt a port of some
importance in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. For the siege
of Calais it provided two ships. But Leland (temp. Henry VIII) remarks
that the silting up of the Axe had made the harbour useless for all
but "small fisschar boates." The river now has great difficulty in
getting to the sea at all through the high bank of shingle.

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