CHAPTER III.

EXETER--WELLS--GLASTONBURY, LEGEND OF KING ARTHUR INTERRED HERE--DORSET--SHERBORNE--WEYMOUTH.

The houses at the corner of Goldsmith Street, in Exeter, are about to be pulled down, and are introduced here more for their curiosity than their beauty; a chapel is quaintly mixed up with them, and there is a sort of promenade on the top of the chemist’s shop.

Exeter has declined from its ancient trade of woollen manufacture, and glovemaking and agricultural implements form the chief industry of the inhabitants. Crediton, at a few miles farther up the county, used at one time to be the seat of the Episcopate, but Exeter has enjoyed that dignity since the reign of Edward the Confessor. It has played a conspicuous part at times in English history, having at one time been besieged by William the Conqueror; and when the magistrates stole out of the city to surrender it, the citizens closed their gates against their return, and took the defence into their own hands. The fortifications were destroyed by Fairfax in 1646; but part of the castle still remains, and it has been converted into a gentleman’s residence. Of this celebrated building we read in Richard III. when his quarrel with Buckingham is beginning--

“As I remember, Henry the Sixth Did prophesy that Richmond should be King, When Richmond was a little peevish boy.

* * * * *

How chance the prophet could not at that time Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

Richmond! when last I was at Exeter, The mayor in courtesy show’d me the castle, And call’d it Rougemont: at which name I started, Because a bard of Ireland told me once, I should not live long after I saw Richmond.”

Another old house opposite the cathedral in Exeter is given which stands in a very irregular row. This house is singular in form, and perhaps not a specimen which will be imitated to any great extent in the present day; still the bow windows over the shop which do not obstruct the walk, and the balcony over these, are very curious and convenient.

Formerly an old building stood in Waterbeare Street, which was said to be the Guildhall of Exeter, and it would be the mayor’s place of business when King Richard went to Exeter, but this was pulled down in 1803. The present Guildhall in High Street was built in 1593, though it is said that the internal parts date back to the fourteenth century.

The South gate of Exeter was taken down in 1819, and one of the most picturesque entrances to any city lost for ever. Lysons has preserved a drawing of it in his _Magna Britannia_, page 198, that gives an excellent idea of its former grandeur; a low deep archway, flanked by vast circular towers, is encroached on upon all sides by picturesque gabled houses, each built without any regard to the style of its neighbour.

The Water gate also was taken down at nearly the same time, and this has also been preserved in a sketch in Lysons’ book. This gate was of astonishing beauty and lightness.

A sketch of Plymouth harbour has been preserved in a chart drawn by some engineer of the reign of Henry VIII., and still extant in the British Museum. The bird’s-eye view represents some four churches, with plenty of gabled houses, and the necessary number of lookers-on from men-of-war.

There are many other towns in Devonshire that contain subject matter for our work, such as Tiverton on the Exe, and Tavistock, so beautifully situated on the banks of the Tavy. Tavistock once gloried in a fine old Abbey, and much of the present town is built out of the spoils of this venerable pile, of which some remains yet stand, and it was also the birthplace of Sir Francis Drake.

Clovelly is one of the most picturesque villages in England. The street resembles a winding staircase, each house representing a step.

“Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm, And in this chasm are foam and yellow sands; Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf In cluster; then a mouldered church; and higher A long street climbs to one tall-towered mill. And high in heaven behind it a gray down With Danish barrows; and a hazel wood, By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes Green in a cuplike hollow of the down.”

This description of the village in _Enoch Arden_ has commonly been said to refer to Clovelly.

Often the towns and villages here receive their names from rivers, for Devonshire has the honour of a watershed of its own, of which Cranmere pool, high up in Dartmoor, is the centre; thus Axminster is named from having a minster on the Axe, and Axmouth from being the town situated at the mouth of that river. The Dart, of course, gives the name of Dartmouth, and the Exe, Exeter and Exmouth; and perhaps it is not commonly known that Mr. Speaker Addington derived his title from the river Sid, which runs past his property, and suggested the name of Sydmouth to the original founder of the family.

It is perhaps hardly too much to say that Wells is the most picturesque city in England. The series of houses called Vicar’s Close is connected with the cathedral by a gallery, over an arched gateway across the street. “This gallery is approached on each side by a flight of steps, from which there is a very fine and unique entrance into the chapter-room. Unlike any other chapter-room in England, the floor of this is raised several feet above the level of the cathedral on a vaulted room. The design and construction of this chapter-house, with its connecting staircase and gallery, are entitled to the especial admiration of the architect;” so writes Britton, and he further adds, in admiration of the structure, “We see that the architects of the Middle Ages were unrestrained by precedent, and exercised their imagination and judgment in producing novelties.”

The “Vicar’s Close” is a long court of ancient houses built in the fourteenth century, and retaining many of their original features; at one end is a noble entrance gateway, and at the other the chapel and chaplain’s dwelling. All these have been engraved in Britton’s _Cathedral Antiquities_ and _Picturesque Antiquities of English Cities_. Each house has a tall graceful chimney rising through the eaves of the roof, and is provided with a small garden in front. These shafts have armorial bearings of the see--and of the executors of Bishop Beckington, who finished the “Close.” Their names were Swan and Sugar, and in the spirit of the age, a swan and a loaf of sugar have been sculptured. This singular scene has no rival in England, and nowhere can mediæval domestic architecture be so well studied. The combinations of chimneys and gables, buttresses and traceried windows, is really astonishing to any one who sees it for the first time.

Wells, according to Camden, was so called from its numerous springs, and now bright clear water runs through the various streets of the city, which take their rise from wells in the Bishop’s garden, these wells form a moat or lake of incomparable beauty. The engraving gives only a partial idea of the scene, as each step unfolds some new delight. There is an embattled wall with bastion towers, enclosing perhaps fifteen acres, which is surrounded by a broad moat, and on the north side the palace is approached by a bridge and baronial gatehouse. Ralph de Salopia was the builder of this wall, and a great benefactor to the see and palace. He it was who drew up statutes for the government of Vicar’s

Close in 1347. Whatever this prelate undertook he would seem to have done with vigour, for, as he was partial to the chase in his leisure hours, he pursued it with such success, that during his prelacy he is said to have destroyed the game of the vast Mendip forest; but one of his predecessors, who bore an excellent name, Reginald Fitz Joceline, seems to have smoothed the way for the pursuit of hunting, as he obtained a charter from Richard I. entitling all bishops of Wells to keep dogs for hunting throughout the entire county of Somerset. He was much esteemed in his day, and relieved the citizens of Wells from some servile duties. This excellent man, when offered the dignity of archbishop, replied with emotion, that “so far was he from having any ambitious desire for that place, that it was a great grief unto him to be chosen, and he would be very glad if they would take some other in his room: howbeit,” says he, “if they must needs stand to their election, though with grief and sorrow I must and will accept the same.” His “nolo episcopari” was not put to any very severe test, however, for though he reluctantly permitted his nomination, he never enjoyed the dignity, for he was very soon after taken ill, put on a monk’s cowl, and died.

The beneficence of this prelate in procuring the right to keep hunting dogs for all clergy is celebrated apparently in the monument of Ralph de Salopia, who has two dogs collared at his feet on the effigy in Wells Cathedral.

Little would all this advantage another bishop of later date whose name is intimately connected with the scene here given,--Bishop Ken. He was one of the “seven bishops” who was tried in James II.’s time, and in a summer-house from which this beautiful scene is taken, he wrote the _Morning and Evening Hymns_.

It is impossible to travel far in Glastonbury without being reminded of its once famous monastery. The buildings are either constructed from its spoils, or else are themselves parts of the original structure, and many walls and farm buildings in the neighbourhood owe their existence to materials quarried as it were from its vast stores. The durability of the stone is something marvellous: most of the enrichments on the chapel of St. Joseph, though they date back to the thirteenth century, are as perfect as when first chiselled, and retain all their original sharpness. The Tribunal here shown was intended for very different purposes than a suite of lawyer’s offices, to which use it is now adapted. It is fortunate that

it remains at all, as its destruction was decreed, but a gentleman in the neighbourhood, a son of the late Dean of Windsor, came forward and purchased it; he now represents the county in Parliament. The oriel window and deeply-recessed lights of the lower storey have a very venerable appearance. The tower is characteristic of the Somerset towers of the fifteenth century. A little lower down on the same side of the street is the celebrated “George Inn,” built for the convenience of the Pilgrims, and this yet remains as an inn, and is the best in Glastonbury. A gatehouse with some fine work inside, forms another inn, not very far distant. The tradition of “Weary-all-Hill” is so familiar as hardly to need repeating here. It says that Joseph of Arimathea, toiling up the steep ascent, drove his thorn staff into the ground, and said to his followers, “Here let us rest.” This was regarded as an omen, and to it the monastery owed its origin. The thorn budded, and now flowers, it is commonly said, at winter. The grand Abbot’s kitchen is familiar to every one, and it is said to be owing to a boast of the last Abbot, when Henry VIII. threatened to burn down his buildings, that he would have a kitchen all the wood of Mendip Forest would not suffice to burn down. Here St. Patrick spent the latter part of his life, and here also, it is said, King Arthur was buried.

Giraldus Cambrensis says he was an eyewitness of his disinterment in the twelfth century, on the return of Henry II. from the Irish wars; and seven feet below the surface a large stone was discovered with the inscription “HIC JACET SEPULTUS INCLYTUS REX ARTHURIUS IN INSULA AVALONIA.” Nine feet below this they found the remains of the King, and by his side those of his wife. The shin-bone of the King, says Giraldus, when placed side by side with that of a tall man, reached three fingers above his knee, and his skull was fearfully wounded. The remains of his wife were singularly perfect, but fell into dust on exposure to the atmosphere,--a statement that seems rather to confirm than otherwise the curious discovery, for some similar phenomena have occurred among much more ancient remains, as ancient indeed as the mysterious people of Etruria.

Edward I., it is said, had these remains subsequently exhumed. The skulls were deposited in the Treasury, to remain there, and the rest of the bones were returned to their resting-place, Edward placing an inscription over them, which recorded the circumstances.

Though Dorsetshire is rich in relics of the Roman and Celtic period, the towns generally have a somewhat modern appearance. Sherborne is finely situated in the northern part of the county, on the slope of a hill rising from the vale of Blackmoor, and was a place of importance even in the early Saxon times; indeed it was for three centuries the seat of a bishopric, which included the southwestern counties. The see was afterwards removed to Old Sarum. Sherborne Castle was the seat of Sir Walter Raleigh, who received the estate from Queen Elizabeth.

The scene here given is a beautiful example of a quiet English market-place. There is a water conduit to supply the townspeople, and behind it is a covered area much resembling a market cross, and apparently built about the year 1500. On market-days, when there are groups of farmers and country people round the space in front of the “Sun Inn” the effect is very picturesque; the huge abbey rises over all, and forms a fine gray background, and, as will be seen, the rest of the picture is finely broken.

Weymouth is the largest town in Dorsetshire, and it has many interesting traditions connected with it. It was one of the principal harbours of the south when the Spanish Armada appeared on our shores, and Queen Elizabeth united it with Melcombe Regis, in order to end the constant lawsuits that were carried on between these two places to secure the rights of harbour. Lyme Regis, in Dorsetshire, has played no inconsiderable a part in English history. It contributed four ships to the Calais expedition of Edward III. In 1544 the French landed here, but were repulsed with great slaughter. A century later it held out for two months against a

Royalist army; and here the Duke of Monmouth landed in 1685 on his ill-starred expedition against James II. Many other towns in this county are full of historic interest.