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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36967-8.txt b/36967-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d49aeaf --- /dev/null +++ b/36967-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2308 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A West Country Pilgrimage, by Eden Phillpots + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A West Country Pilgrimage + +Author: Eden Phillpots + +Illustrator: A. T. Benthall + +Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36967] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + [Illustration: TINTAGEL.] + + + + + A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE + + BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + + AUTHOR OF + "DANCE OF THE MONTHS," "A SHADOW PASSES," ETC. + + _ILLUSTRATED BY A. T. BENTHALL_ + + LONDON + LEONARD PARSONS + PORTUGAL STREET + + _First Published, May 1920_ + + _Leonard Parsons, Ltd._ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + HAYES BARTON + THE SAD HEATH + DAWLISH WARREN + THE OLD GREY HOUSE + BERRY POMEROY + BERRY HEAD + THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE + BAGTOR + OKEHAMPTON CASTLE + THE GORGE + THE GLEN + A DEVON CROSS + COOMBE + OLD DELABOLE + TINTAGEL + A CORNISH CROSS + + + + +HAYES BARTON + +[Illustration: HAYES BARTON.] + + +East of Exe River and south of those rolling heaths crowned by the +encampment of Woodberry, there lies a green valley surrounded by forest +and hill. Beyond it rise great bluffs that break in precipices upon the +sea. They are dimmed to sky colour by a gentle wind from the east, for +Eurus, however fierce his message, sweeps a fair garment about him. Out +of the blue mists that hide distance the definition brightens and lesser +hills range themselves, their knolls dark with pine, their bosoms +rounded under forest of golden green oak and beech; while beneath them a +mosaic of meadow and tilth spreads in pure sunshine. One field is +brushed with crimson clover; another with dull red of sorrel through the +green meadow grass; another shines daisy-clad and drops to the green of +wheat. Some crofts glow with the good red earth of Devon, and no growing +things sprout as yet upon them; but they hold seed of roots and their +hidden wealth will soon answer the rain. + +In the heart of the vale a brook twinkles and buttercups lie in pools of +gold, where lambs are playing together. + +Elms set bossy signets on the land and throng the hedgerows, their round +tops full of sunshine; under them the hawthorns sparkle very white +against the riot of the green. From the lifted spinneys and coverts, +where bluebells fling their amethyst at the woodland edge, pheasants +are croaking, and silver-bright against the blue aloft, wheel gulls, to +link the lush valley with the invisible and not far distant sea. They +cry and musically mew from their high place; and beneath them the cuckoo +answers. + +Nestling now upon the very heart of this wide vale a homestead lies, +where the fields make a dimple and the burn comes flashing. Byres and +granaries light gracious colour here, for their slate roofs are mellow +with lichen of red gold, and they stand as a bright knot round which the +valley opens and blossoms with many-coloured petals. The very buttercups +shine pale by contrast, and the apple-blooth, its blushes hidden from +this distance, masses in pure, cold grey beneath the glow of these great +roofs. Cob walls stretch from the outbuildings, and their summits are +protected against weather by a little penthouse of thatch. In their arms +the walls hold a garden of many flowers, rich in promise of small +fruits. Gooseberries and raspberries flourish amid old gnarled apple +trees; there are strawberries, too, and the borders are bright with May +tulips and peonies. Stocks and wallflowers blow flagrant by the pathway, +murmured over by honey bees; while where the farmhouse itself stands, +deep of eave under old thatch, twin yew trees make a dark splash on +either side of the entrance, and a wistaria showers its mauve ringlets +upon the grey and ancient front. The dormer windows are all open, and +there is a glimpse of a cool darkness through the open door. Within the +solid walls of this dwelling neither sunshine nor cold can penetrate, +and Hayes Barton is warm in winter, in summer cool. The house is shaped +in the form of a great E, and it has been patched and tinkered through +the centuries; but still stands, complete and sturdy in harmony of +design, with unspoiled dignity from a far past. Only the colours round +about it change with the painting of the seasons, for the forms of hill +and valley, the modelling of the roof-tree, the walls and the great +square pond outside the walls, change not. Enter, and above the +dwelling-rooms you shall find a chamber with wagon roof and window +facing south. It is, on tradition meet to be credited, the birthplace of +Walter Ralegh. + +Proof rests with Sir Walter's own assertion, and at one time the manor +house of Fardel, under Dartmoor, claimed the honour; but Ralegh himself +declares that he was born at Hayes, and speaks of his "natural +disposition to the place" for that reason. He desired, indeed, to +purchase his childhood's home and make his Devonshire seat there; but +this never happened, though the old, three-gabled, Tudor dwelling has +passed through many hands and many notable families. + +"Probably no conceivable growth of democracy," says a writer on Ralegh's +genealogy, "will make the extraction of a famous man other than a point +of general interest." Ralegh's family, at least, won more lustre from +him than he from them, though his mother, of the race of the +Champernownes, was a mother of heroes indeed. By her first marriage she +had borne Sir Walter's great half-brother, Humphrey Gilbert; and when +Otho Gilbert passed, the widow wedded Walter Ralegh, and gave birth to +another prodigy. The family of the Raleghs must have been a large and +scattered one; but our Western historian, Prince, stoutly declares that +Sir Walter was descended from an ancient and noble folk, "and could have +produced a much fairer pedigree than some of those who traduc'd him." + +The tale of his manifold labours has been inadequately told, though Fame +will blow her trumpet above his grave for ever; but among the lesser +histories Prince's brief chronicle is delightful reading, and we may +quote a passage or two for the pleasure of those who pursue this note. + +"A new country was discovered by him in 1584," says the historian, +"called in honour of the Queen, Virginia: a country that hath been since +of no inconsiderable profit to our nation, it being so agreeable to our +English bodies, so profitable to the Exchequer, and so fruitful in +itself; an acre there yielding over forty bushels of corn; and, which is +more strange, there being three harvests in a year: for their corn is +sow'd, ripe and cut down in little more than two months." + +I fear Virginia to-day will not corroborate these agricultural wonders. + +We may quote again, for Prince, on Sir Walter's distinction, is +instructive at this moment:-- + +"For this and other beneficial expeditions and designs, her Majesty was +pleased to confer on him the honour of Knighthood; which in her reign +was more esteemed; the Queen keeping the temple of honour close shut, +and never open'd but to vertue and desert." + +Well may democracy call for the destruction of that temple when +contemplating those that are permitted entrance to-day. + +Then vanished Elizabeth, and a coward king took her place. + +"Fourteen years Sir Walter spent in the Tower, of whom Prince Henry +would say that no King but his father would keep such a bird in a cage." + +But freedom followed, and the scholar turned into the soldier again. +Ultimately Spain had her way with her scourge and terror. James +ministered to her revenge, and Ralegh perished; "the only man left +alive, of note, that had helped to beat the Spaniards in the year 1588." + +The favour of the axe was his last, and being asked which way he would +dispose himself upon the block, he answered, "So the heart be right, it +is no matter which way the head lieth." + +"Authors," adds old Prince, "are perplexed under what topick to place +him, whether of statesman, seaman, soldier, chymist, or chronologer; for +in all these he did excel. He could make everything he read or heard his +own, and his own he would easily improve to the greatest advantage. He +seemed to be born to that only which he went about, so dextrous was he +in all his undertakings, in Court, camp, by sea, by land, with sword, +with pen. And no wonder, for he slept but five hours; four he spent in +reading and mastering the best authors; two in a select conversation and +an inquisitive discourse; the rest in business." + +We may say of him that not only did he write _The History of the World_, +but helped to make it; we may hold of all Devon's mighty sons, this man +the mightiest. Fair works have been inspired by his existence, but one +ever regrets that Gibbon, who designed a life of Ralegh, was called to +relinquish the idea before the immensity of his greater theme. + +In the western meadow without the boundary of Hayes Barton there lies a +great pool, where a cup has been hollowed to hold the brook. Here, under +oak trees, one may sit, mark a clean reflection of the farmhouse upon +the water, and regard the window of the birth chamber opening on the +western gable of the homestead. Thence the august infant's eyes first +drew light, his lungs, the air. He has told us that dear to memory was +that snug nook, and many times, while he wandered the world and wrote +his name upon the golden scroll, we may guess that the hero turned his +thought to these happy valleys and, in the mind, mirrored this haunt of +peace. + + + + +THE SAD HEATH + +[Illustration: THE SAD HEATH.] + + +Through the sad heath white roads wandered, trickling hither and thither +helplessly. There was no set purpose in them; they meandered up the +great hill and sometimes ran together to support each other. Then, +fortified by the contact, they climbed on across the dusky upland, where +it rolled and fell and lifted steadily to the crown of the land: a +flat-headed clump of beech and oak with a fosse round about it. Only the +roads twisting through this waste and a pool or two scattered upon it +brought any light to earth; but there were flowers also, for the whins +dragged a spatter of dull gold through the sere and a blackthorn hedge +shivered cold and white, where fallow crept to the edge of the moors. +For the rest, from the sad-coloured sky to the sentinel pines that rose +in little detached clusters on every side, all was restrained and almost +melancholy. The pines specially distinguished this rolling heath. They +lifted their darkness in clumps, ascending to the hill-tops, spattered +every acre of the land, and sprang as infant plants under the foot of +the wanderer. Scarcely a hundred yards lacked them; and they ranged from +the least seedling to full-grown trees that rose together and thrust +with dim red branch and bough through their own darkness. + +There was no wind on the heath, and few signs of spring. She had passed, +as it seemed, lighted the furzes, waked a thousand catkins on the dwarf +sallows in the bogs, and then departed elsewhere. One felt that the +deserted heath desired her return and regarded its obstinate winter +robes with impatience. It was an uplifted place, and seemed to shoulder +darkly out of the milder, mellower world beneath. Far below, an estuary +shone through the valley welter and ran a streak of dull silver from +south to north; while easterly rose up the grey horizons of the sea. + +In the murk of that silent hour, a spirit of thirst seemed to animate +the heather and the marshes that oozed out beneath. The secret impressed +upon my conscious intelligence was one of suspense, a watchful and alert +attitude--an emotion shared by the trees and the thickets, the heath and +the hills. It ascended higher and higher to the frowning crest of the +land, where round woods made a crown for the wilderness and marked +castramentations of old time. So unchanging appeared this place that +little imagination was needed to bring back the past and revive a +vanished century when the legions flashed where now the great trees +frowned and a hive of men, loosed from a hundred galleys, swarmed hither +to dig the ditches and pile these venerable earthworks for a stronghold. + +Thus the place lay in the lap of that tenebrous hour and waited for the +warm rain to loose its fountains of sap and brush the loneliness with +waking and welcoming green. It endured and hoped and seemed to turn +blind eyes from the pond and bog upward to question the gathering +clouds. + +Nigh me, a persistent and inquiring thrush clamoured from a pine. I +could see his amber, speckled bosom shaking with his song. + +"Why did he do it? Why did he do it? Why did he?" + +He had asked the question a thousand times; and then a dark bird, that +flapped high and heavy through the grey air, answered him. + +"God knows! God knows!" croaked the carrion crow. + + + + +DAWLISH WARREN + +[Illustration: DAWLISH WARREN.] + + +There is a spit of land that runs across the estuary of the Exe, and as +the centuries pass, the sea plays pranks with it. A few hundred years +ago the tideway opened to the West, not far from the red cliffs that +tower there, and then Exmouth and the Warren were one; but now it is at +Exmouth that the long sands are separated from the shore and, past that +little port, the ships go up the river, while the eastern end of the +Warren joins the mainland. So it has stood within man's memory; but now, +as though tired of this arrangement, wind and sea are modifying the +place again, for the one has found a new path in the midst, and the +other has blown at the sand dunes until their heads are reduced by many +feet from their old altitude. + +These sands are many-coloured, for over the yellow staple prevails a +delicate and changing harmony of various tones, now rose, now blue, as +though a million minute shining particles were reflecting the light of +the sky and bringing it to earth on their tiny surfaces. But in truth +these tender shades show where the sand is weathered, for if we walk +upon it and break the thin crust created by the last rain, the dream +tints depart, and a brighter corn colour breaks through. Coarse +mat-grass binds the dunes and helps to hold them together against the +forces of wind and water; but their tendency is to decrease. Perhaps +observation would prove that their masses shift and vanish more quickly +than we guess, for the sand is the sea's toy, and she makes and unmakes +her castles at will. + +As a lad, I very well remember the silvery hills towering to little +mountains above my head; and again I can hear the gentle tinkle of the +sand for ever rustling about me where I basked like a lizard in some +sun-baked nook. I remember the horrent couch grass that waved its ragged +tresses above me, and how I told myself that the range of the sand dunes +were great lions with bristling manes marching along to Exmouth. +Presently they would swim across to the shore and eat up everybody, as +soon as they had landed and shaken themselves. And the mud-flats I loved +well also, where the sea-lavender spread its purple on sound land above +the network of mud. I flushed summer snipe there and often lay +motionless to watch sea-birds fishing. Many wild flowers flourished and +the glass-wort made the flats as red as blood in autumn. It was a +dreamland of wonders for me, and now I was seeking mermaids' purses in +the tide-fringe and sorrowing to find them empty; now I was after +treasure-trove flung overboard from pirate ships, now hunting for the +secret hiding-places of buccaneers in the dunes. + +The ships go by still; but not the ships I knew; the flowers still +sparkle in the hollows and brakes; but their wonder has waned a little. +No more shall I weave the soldanella and sea-rocket and grey-green wheat +grass into crowns for the sea-nymphs to find when they come up from the +waves in the moonlight. + +It is a place of sweet air and wonderful sunshine. On a sunny day, with +the sand ablaze against the blue sky, one might think oneself in some +desert region of the East; but then green spaces, scarlet flags and a +warning "fore!" tell a different story. For golfers have found the +Warren now. Where once I roamed with only the gulls above and rabbits +below for company, and for music the sigh of the wind in the bents and +the song of the sea, half a hundred little houses have sprung up, and +bungalows, red and white and green, throng the Warren. At hand is a +railway-station, whence hundreds descend to take their pleasure, while +easterly this once peaceful region is most populous and the Exmouth +boats cross the estuary and land their passengers. + +One does not grudge the joy of the place to townsfolk or golfers; one +only remembers the old haunt of peace, now peaceful no more, the old +beauties that have vanished under the little dwellings and little +flagstaffs, the former fine distinction that has departed. + +Dawlish Warren now gives pleasure to hundreds, where once only the +dreamer or sportsman wandered through its mazes; and that is well; but +we of the old brigade, who remember its far-flung loneliness, its rare +wild flowers, its unique contours, its isolation and peculiar charm, may +be forgiven if we forget the twentieth century for a season and conjure +back the old time before us. + +Topsham, in the estuary, wakens thoughts of the Danes and their sword +and fire, when Hungar and Hubba brought their Viking ships up the river, +destroyed the busy little port, and, pushing on, defeated St. Edmond, +King of the East Angles. The pagans scourged this Christian monarch +with whips, then bound him to a tree and slew him. + + Tho' no place was left for wounds, + Yet arrows did not fail. + These furious wretches still let fly + Thicker than winter's hail. + +So writes the old poet quoted by Risdon, who adds that the Danes, +cutting off St. Edmond's head, "contumeliously threw it in a bush." + +But Topsham in Tudor times was a place of importance, a naval port, a +mart and road for ships. Thanks to weirs built across the waterway by +the Earls of Devon, Exeter began to lose its old-time trade, when the +tide was wont to ascend to the city. Therefore Exeter fought the earls, +and in the reign of Henry VIII. the city obtained a grant to cut a canal +from Topsham. Thus vessels of fifteen tons burthen could ascend to the +capital, and Topsham sank under the blow and lost its old importance. + +Exmouth also figures in the reign of Edward I. as a naval port. In 1298 +she contributed a fighting ship to the Fleet, and in 1347 sent ten +vessels to aid the third Edward's expedition against Calais. From +Exmouth, too, Edward IV. and Warwick, "the King Maker," embarked for the +Continent. + +Risdon also makes mention of Lympston, another village in the estuary, +aforetime in the lordship of the Dynhams, "of which family John Dynham, +a valiant esquire siding with the Earl of March, took the Lord Rivers +and Sir Anthony his son at Sandwich in their beds, when he was hurt in +the leg, the 37th Henry 6." + +The villages are worth a visit still, but Exmouth is best known to those +who visit Dawlish Warren now. For the open sea welcomes all who come +hither, and the little holiday homes that stand on either side of the +tidal stream are too few for those who would dwell here in July and +August if they could. + +I have seen dawn upon the Exe, and watched the mists rise upon these +heron-haunted flats to meet the morning. Then the villages twinkle out +over the water, and a land breeze wakens the sleepy dunes, ruffles the +still waters and fills the red sails of little fishers that come down to +the sea. + + + + +THE OLD GREY HOUSE + +[Illustration: THE OLD GREY HOUSE.] + + +Among the ancient, fortified manors of the West Country there is a +pleasant ruin whose history is innocent of event, yet glorified with a +noble name or two that rings down through the centuries harmoniously. +You shall find Compton Castle where the hamlet of Lower Marldon +straggles through a deep and fertile valley not many miles from Torbay. + +Compton's time-stained face and crown of ivy rise now above a plat of +flowers. Trim borders of familiar things blossom within their box-hedges +before the entrance, and at this autumn hour fat dahlias, spiring +hollyhocks, and rainbows of asters and pansies wind a girdle beneath the +walls. + +It is a ruin of wide roofs and noble frontage. Above its windows +sinister bartizans frown grimly; the portals yawn vast and deep; only +the chapel-windows open frankly upon the face of the dwelling; but +above, all apertures are narrow, up to the embattled towers. + +In the lap of many an enfolding hill Compton huddles its aged fabric, +and, despite certain warlike additions, can have risen for no purpose of +offence, for the land rakes it on every side; it stands at the bottom of +a great green cup, whose slopes are crowned with fir and beech, whose +sides now glimmer under stubble of corn, green of roots, and wealth of +wide orchards, bright with the ripening harvest. Close at hand men make +ready the cider-presses again, and the cooper's mallet echoes among his +barrels. + +Much of the castle still stands, and the entrance hall, chapel, priest's +chamber, and kitchen, with its gigantic hearth and double chimney, are +almost intact. A mouldering roof of lichened slates still covers more +than half of the ruin; but the banqueting hall has vanished, and many a +tower and turret, under their weight of ivy, lift ragged and broken to +the sky. Where now jackdaws chiefly dwell and bats sidle through the +naked windows at call of dusk; where wind and rain find free entrance +and pellitory-of-the-wall hangs its foliage for tapestry, with toadflax +and blue speedwell; where Nature labours unceasing from fern-crowned +battlement to mossy plinth, there dwelt of old the family of Gilbert. + +One Joan Compton conveyed the manor for her partage in the second +Edward's reign; and of their posterity are justly remembered and +revered the sons of Otho Gilbert, whose lady--a maiden of the +Champernownes--bore not only Humphrey, the adventurer, who discovered +Gilbert's Straits and founded the first British settlement of +Newfoundland; but also his more famous uterine brother, Walter Ralegh. +For upon Otho Gilbert's passing, his dame mated with Walter Ralegh of +Fardel, and by him brought into the world the poet, statesman, soldier, +courtier, explorer, and master-jewel of Elizabeth's Court. A noble +matron surely must have been that Katherine, mother of two such sons; +and less only in honour to these knights were Sir Humphrey's brothers, +of whom Sir John, his senior, rendered himself acceptable to God and man +by manifold charities and virtues; while Adrian Gilbert is declared a +gentleman very eminent for his skill in mines and matters of engineering +and science. + +Within these walls tradition brings Sir Walter and Sir Humphrey +together. We may reasonably see them here discussing their far-reaching +projects, while still the world smiled and both basked in the sunshine +of Royal favour. Yet, at the end of their triumphs, from our standpoint +in time, we can mark, stealing along the avenue of years, the shadow, +hideous in one case and violent in both, destined presently to put a +period to each great life. + +When the little _Squirrel_, a vessel of but ten tons burthen, was +bearing Sir Humphrey upon his last voyage from Newfoundland, before his +vision there took shape the spectre of a mighty lion gliding over the +sea, "yawning and gaping wide as he went." Upon which portent there rose +the storm whereby he perished. Yet the knight's memory is green, and his +golden anchor, with pearl at peak, badge of a Sovereign's grace, is not +forgot; nor his crest of a squirrel, whose living prototype still haunts +the fir trees beside the castle; nor his motto, worthy of so righteous a +genius and steadfast a man: "_Malem mori, quam mutare_." + +The navigator passed to his restless resting-place in 1584; his +half-brother, still busy with the colonisation of Virginia, did not +kneel at Westminster and brush his grey hair from the path of the axe +until Fate had juggled with him for further four-and-thirty years. Then +his sword and pen were laid down; his wise head fell low; and the +portion of the great: well-doing, ill report, was won. + +At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end; when the owl glides +out from his tower to the trees and the beetles boom, twilight shadows +begin to move and the old grey house broods, like a sentient thing, upon +the past; but no unhappy spirits haunt its desolation, and the mighty +dead, despite their taking off, revisit these glimpses of the moon to +clasp pale hands no more. Abundant life flows to the gate and circles +the walls. Arable land ascends the hills, and the clank of plough and +cry of man to his horses will soon be heard in the stubble of the corn. +The orchards flash ruddy and gold; to-morrow they will be naked and +grey; and then again they will foam with flowers and roll in a white sea +to the castle walls. Time rings his rounds and forgets not this +sequestered hollow. Today, beside the entrance-gate of Compton, the +husbandman mounts his nag from that same "upping-stock" whence a Gilbert +and a Ralegh leapt to horse in England's age of gold. + + + + +BERRY POMEROY + +[Illustration: BERRY POMEROY.] + + +Hither, a thousand years and more ago, rode Radulphus de la Pomerio, +lord of the Norman Castle of the Orchard; for William I. was generous to +those who helped his conquests. Radulphus, as the result of a hero's +achievements at Hastings, won eight-and-fifty Devon lordships, and of +these he chose Beri, "the Walled town," for his barony, or honour. + +Forward we may imagine him pressing with his cavalcade, through the +wooded hills and dales, until this limestone crag and plateau in the +forest suddenly opened upon his view, and the Norman eagle, judging the +strength of such a position, quickly determined that here should his +eyrie be built. For it was a stronghold impregnable before the days of +gunpowder. + +So the banner with the Pomeroy lion upon it was set aloft on the bluff, +and soon the sleep of the woods departed to the strenuous labour of a +thousand men. There is a great gap in the hill close at hand that shows +whence came these time-worn stones, when a feudal multitude of workers +were set upon their task. Then, grim, squat and stern, with a hundred +eyes from which the cross-bow's bolts might leap, arose another Norman +castle, its watch-towers and great ramparts wedged into the woods and +beetling over the valley beneath. It sprang from the solid rock, +dominated a gorge, and so stood for many hundred years, during which +time the descendants of Ralph exercised baronial rights and enjoyed the +favour of their princes. The family, indeed, continued to prosper until +1549, but then disaster overtook them and they disappeared, disgraced. +It was during this year that Devon opposed the "Act for Reforming the +Church Service." Tooth and nail she resented the proposed changes; and +among the malcontents there figured a soldier Pomeroy, now head of his +house, who had fought with distinction in France during the reign of +Henry VIII. Like many another military veteran since his time, he +assumed an exceedingly definite attitude on matters of religion, and +held tolerance a doubtful virtue where dogma was involved. Him, +therefore, the discontented gentlemen of the West elected their leader, +and, after preliminary successes, the baron lost the day at Clist Heath, +nigh Exeter. He was captured, and only escaped with his life. He kept +his head on his shoulders, but Berry Pomeroy became sequestrated to the +Crown. + +By purchase, the old castle now owned new masters, for the Seymours +followed the founders in their heritage, and the great Elizabethan ruin, +that lies in the midst of the Norman work and towers above it, is of +their creation. + +Sir Edward--a descendant of the Protector--it was who, when William III. +remarked to him, "I believe you are of the family of the Duke of +Somerset?" made instant reply, "Pardon, sir; the Duke of Somerset is of +my family." This haughty gentleman was the last of his race to dwell at +Berry Pomeroy; but to his descendants the castle still belongs, and it +can utter this unique boast: that since the Conquest it has changed +hands but once. + +The fabric of Seymour's mansion was, it is said, never completed, but +enough still stands to make an imposing ruin; while the earlier +fragments of the original fortress, including the southern gateway, the +pillared chamber above it and the north wing of the quadrangle, complete +a spectacle sufficiently splendid in its habiliments of grey and green. + +Nature had played with it and rendered it beautiful. Ivy crowns every +turret and shattered wall; its limbs writhe like hydras in and out of +the ruined windows, and twist their fingers into the rotting mortar; +while along the tattered battlements and archways, grass and wild +flowers grow rankly together and many saplings of oak and ash and thorn +find foothold aloft. Over all the jackdaws chime and chatter, for it is +their home now, and they share it with the owl and the flittermouse. + +Seen from beyond the stew ponds in the valley below, the ruins of Berry +still present a noble vision piled among the tree-tops into the sky, and +never can it more attract than at autumn time, when the wealth of the +woods is scattered and only spruce and pine trail their green upon the +grey and amber of the naked forest. Then, against the low, lemon light +of a clear sunset, Berry's ragged crown ascends like a haunted castle in +a fairy story; while beneath the evening glow, the still water casts +many a crooked reflection from the overhanging branches, and the last +leaves hanging on the osiers splash gold against the gloom of the banks. +The hour is very still after wind and rain; twilight broods under +gathering vapours, while another night gently obscures detail and +renders all formless and vast as the darkness falls. The castle is +swallowed up in the woods; the first owl hoots; then there is a rush +overhead and a splash and scutter below, as the wild duck come down from +above, and, for a little while, break the peace with their noise. Their +flurry on the water sets up wavelets, that catch the last of the light +and run to bank with a little sigh. Then all is silent and stars begin +to twinkle through the network of boughs at forest edge. + + + + +BERRY HEAD + +[Illustration: BERRY HEAD.] + + +Upon this seaward-facing headland the great cliffs slope outward like +the sides of an old "three-decker." They bulge upon the sea, and the +flower-clad scales of the limestone are full of lustrous light and +colour, shining radiantly upon the still tide that flows at their feet. +For, on this breathless August day, the very sea is weary; not a ripple +of foam marks juncture of rock and water. + +The cliffs are spattered with green, where scurvy-grass and samphire, +thrift and stonecrop find foothold in every cleft; but the flowers are +nearly gone; the rare, white rock rose which haunts these crags has shed +her last petal and the little cathartic flax and centaury; the snowy +dropwort, storks-bill and carline thistles have all been scorched away +by days of sunshine and dewless nights. Only the sea lavender still +brushes the great, glaring planes of stone with cool colour, and a wild +mallow lolls here and there out of a crevice. + +By the coastguard path holiday folk tramp with hot faces, but, save for +the gulls, there is little sound or movement, for land and sea are +swooning in the heavy noontide hour. The birds are everywhere--cresting +the finials of the rocks, swooping over the sea, busy teaching the +little grey "squabs" to use their wings and trust the air. Now and then +a coney thrusts his ears from a burrow, likes not the heat, and pops +back again to his cool, dark parlour. Brown hawks hang above the brown +sward. Life seems to be retreating before the pitiless sun, yet the +sear, scorched grasses will be green again in a few weeks when the +cisterns of the autumn rains open upon them. Already tiny, blue _scilla +autumnalis_ is pressing her head through the turf. + +Islets lie off-shore, so full of light that they glow like bubbles blown +of air and seem to float on the surface of the sea. Their shadows fall +in delicious purple on the aquamarine waters and warm hues percolate +their ragged, silver faces, while the gulls cluster in myriads upon +them, and, black and silent among the noisy sea-fowl, stand dusky +cormorants with long necks lifted. Like pale blue silk, shot and +streamed over with pure light, the Channel rises to the mists of the +horizon. Light penetrates air and water and earth, so that the weight of +land and water are lifted off them and lost; indeed the scene appears to +be composed of imponderable hazes and vapours merging into each other; +it is wrought in planes of light--a gorgeous, unsubstantial illumination +as though the clouds were come to earth. The eternal melody of the gulls +pierces the picture with sound, hard and metallic, until their din and +racket seem of heavier substance and reality than the mighty cliffs and +sea from which it pours. Yet the birds themselves, in their floatings +and their wheelings, are lighter than feathers. They make the only +movement save for fisher craft with tan-red sails now streaming in line +round the Head to sea. For the Scruff they are bound--a great, sandy +bottom where sole and turbot dwell ten sea-miles off-shore. + +Inland gleam cornfields of heavy grain ripe for harvest--pale yellow of +oats and golden brown of wheat, where the poppies stir with the gipsy +rose; and flung up upon the cliff-edge rise lofty ramparts, ribbed with +granite and bored by portholes for cannon. A modern gun a league out at +sea would crumble these masonries like sponge-cake; but they were lifted +in haste a hundred years ago, when England quaked at the threatened +advent of "Boney," whose ordnance could not have destroyed them. The +great fortresses were piled by many thousands of busy hands, yet time +sped quicker than the engineers, and before the forts were completed, +Napoleon, from the deck of the _Bellerophon_ in the bay beneath, had +looked his last on Europe. + +Still the unfinished work sprawls over the cliffs, and whence cannon +were meant to stare, now thrust the blackberry, brier and eagle-fern +through the embrasures, and stunted black-thorns and white-thorns shine +green against the grey. + +One clambers among them to seek the gift of a patch of shade, and +wonders what the first Napoleon would have thought of the hydroplane +purring out to sea half a mile overhead. + + + + +THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE + +[Illustration: THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE.] + + +Lastrea and athyrium, their foliage gone, cling in silky russet knobs +under the granite ledges, warm the iron-grey stone with brown and agate +brightness, and promise many a beauty of unfolding frond when spring +shall come again. For their jewels will be unfolding presently, to +soften the cleft granite with misty green and bring the vernal time to +these silent cliffs. + +The quarry lies like a gash in the slope of the hills. To the dizzy +edges of it creep heather and the bracken; beneath, upon its precipices, +a stout rowan or two rises, and everywhere Nature has fought and +laboured to hide this wound driven so deep into her mountain-side by +man. A cicatrix of moss and fern and many grasses conceal the scars of +pick and gunpowder; time has weathered the harsh edges of the riven +stone; the depths of the quarry are covered by pools of clear water, for +it is nearly a hundred years since the place yielded its stores. + +One great silence is the quarry now--an amphitheatre of peace and quiet +hemmed by the broken abutments of granite, and opening upon the +hillside. The heather extends over wide, dun spaces to a blue distance, +where evening lies dim upon the plains beneath; round about a minor +music of dripping water tinkles from the sides of the quarry; a current +of air brushes the pools and for a moment frets their pale surfaces; +the dead rushes murmur and then are silent; here and there, along the +steps and steep places flash the white scuts of the rabbits. A pebble is +dislodged by one of them, and, falling to the water beneath, sets rings +of light widening out upon it and raises a little sound. + +In the midst, casting its jagged shadow upon the water, springs a great, +ancient crane from which long threads of iron still stretch round about +to the cliffs. It stands stoutly yet and marks the meaning of all around +it. + +At time of twilight it is good to be here, for then one may measure the +profundity of such peace and contrast this matrix of vanished granite +with the scene of its present disposal; one may drink from this cup all +the mystery that fills a deserted theatre of man's work and feel that +loneliness which only human ruins tell; and then one may open the eye of +the mind upon another vision, and suffer the ear of imagination to throb +with its full-toned roar. + +For hence came London Bridge; the mighty masses of granite riven from +this solitude span Thames. + +Away in the heath and winding onward by many a curve may yet be traced +the first railroad in the West Country. It started here, upon the +frontier hills of Dartmoor, and sank mile upon mile to the valleys +beneath. But of granite were wrought the lines, and over them ran +ponderous wagons. Many thousand feet of stone were first cut for the +railway, before those greater masses destined for London set forth upon +it to their destination. + +Like the empty quarry this deserted railway now lies silent, and the +place of its passing on the hills and through the forest beneath is at +peace again. From the Moor the tramway drops into the woods of Yarner, +and here, between a heathery hillside and the fringes of the forest, the +broken track may still be found, its semi-grooved lengths of granite +scattered and clad in emerald moss, where once the great wheels were +wont to grind it. The line passes under interlacing boughs of beeches +and winds this way and that, like a grey snake, through the copper +brightness of the fallen leaves; it turns and twists, dropping ever, and +ceases at last at the mouth of a little canal in the valley, where +barges waited of old to carry the stone to the sea. + +Here also is stagnation now, but picturesque wrecks of the ancient boats +may still be seen at Teigngrace in the forgotten waterway. They lie +foundered upon the canal with bulging sides and broken ribs. Their +shapes are outlined in grasses and flowers; sallows leap silvery from +the old bulwarks and alders find foothold there; briar and kingcups +flourish upon their decay; moss and ferns conceal their wounds; in +summer purple spires of loosestrife man their water-logged decks, and +the vole swims to and from his hidden nest therein. + +Here came the Hey Tor granite, after dropping twelve hundred feet from +the Moor above. Leaving the great wains, it was shipped upon the Stover +Canal and despatched down the estuary of Teign to Teignmouth, whence +larger vessels bore it away to London for its final purpose. + +It came to supersede that bridge of houses familiar in the old pictures, +the bridge that was a street; the bridge that in its turn had taken the +place of older bridges built with wood: those mediæval structures that +perished each in turn by flood or fire. + +It was in 1756 that the Corporation of London obtained an order to +rebuild London Bridge; but things must have moved slowly, for not until +fifty years later was the announcement made of a new bridge to pass from +Bankside, Southwark, to Queen Street, Cheapside. The public was invited +to invest in the enterprise, and doubtless proved willing enough to do +so. The ancient structure, long a danger to the navigation of the river, +vanished, and in 1825, with great pomp and ceremony, the +foundation-stone of the "New London Bridge" sank to its place. A recent +writer in _The Academy_ has given a graphic picture of the event, and +described the immense significance attached to the occasion. From the +earliest dawn of that June morning, London flocked to waterside and +thronged each point of vantage. Before noon the roofs of Fishmongers' +Hall, of St. Saviour's Church, and every building that offered a glimpse +of the ceremony were crowded; the river was alive with craft of all +descriptions; the cofferdam for the erection of the first pier served +the purpose of a private enclosure, where notable folk sat in four tiers +of galleries under flags and awnings. + +At four o'clock, by which time the great company must have been weary of +waiting, two six-pounder guns at the Old Swan Stairs announced the +approach of the Civic and State authorities. The City Marshal, the +Bargemasters, the Watermen, the members of the Royal Society, the +Goldsmiths, the Under-Sheriffs, the Lord Mayor and the Duke of York +appeared. + +"His Lordship, who was in full robes," so says an eye-witness of the +event, "offered the chair to his Royal Highness, which was positively +declined on his part. The Mayor, therefore, seated himself; the Lady +Mayoress, with her daughters in elegant dresses, sat near his Lordship, +accompanied by two fine-looking, intelligent boys, her sons; near them +were the two lovely daughters of Lord Suffolk, and many other +fashionable ladies." + +Then followed the ceremony. Coins in a cut-glass bottle were placed +beneath a copper plate, and upon them descended a mighty block of +Dartmoor granite. "The City sword and mace were placed upon it +crossways, the foundation of the new bridge was declared to be laid, the +music struck up 'God save the King,' and three times three excessive +cheers broke forth from the company, the guns of the Honourable +Artillery Company on the Old Swan Wharf fired a salute, and every face +wore smiles of gratulation. Three cheers were afterwards given for the +Duke of York, three for Old England, and three for the architect, Mr. +Rennie." + +Then did a journalist with imagination dance a hornpipe upon the +foundation-stone--for England would not take its pleasure sadly on that +great day--and subsequently many ladies stood upon it, and "departed +with the satisfaction of being enabled to relate an achievement +honourable to their feelings!" + +And still the noble bridge remains, though the delicate feet that rested +on its foundation-stone have all tripped to the shades. The bridge +remains, and its five simple spans--the central one of a hundred and +fifty-two feet--make a startling contrast with the nineteen little +arches and huge pedestals of the ancient structure. New London Bridge +is more than a thousand feet long; its width is fifty-six feet; its +height, above low water, sixty feet. The central piers are twenty-four +feet thick, and the voussoirs of the central arch four feet nine inches +deep at the crown and nine feet at the springing. The foundations lie +twenty-nine feet, six inches beneath low water; the exterior stones are +all of granite; while the interior mass of the fabric came half from +Bramley Fall and half from Derbyshire. + +More than seven years did London Bridge take a-building, and it was +opened in 1831. The total costs were something under a million and a +half of money--less than is needed for a modern battleship. + +And already, before it is one hundred years old, there comes a cry that +London's heart finds this great artery too small for the stream of life +that flows for ever upon it. One may hope, however, that when the +necessity arrives, this notable bridge will not be spoiled, but another +created hard by, if needs must, to fulfil the demands of traffic. +Perhaps a second tunnel may solve the problem, since metropolitan man is +turning so rapidly into a mole. + +From quarry to bridge is a far cry, yet he who has seen both may dream +sometimes among the dripping ferns, silent cliff-faces and unruffled +pools, of the city's roar and riot and the ceaseless thunder of man's +march from dawn till even; while there--in the full throb and hurtle of +London town, swept this way and that amid the multitudes that traverse +Thames--it is pleasant to glimpse, through the reek and storm, the +cradle of this city-stained granite, lying silent at peace in the +far-away West Country. + + + + +BAGTOR + +[Illustration: BAGTOR.] + + +From the little southern salient of Bagtor at Dartmoor edge, there falls +a slope to the "in country" beneath. Thereon Bagtor woods extend in many +a shining plane--from wind-swept hill-crowns of beech and fir, to +dingles and snug coombs in the valley bottom a thousand feet beneath. + +On a summer day one loiters in the dappled wood, for here is welcome +shade after miles of hot sunshine on the heather above. Music of water +splashes pleasantly through the trees, where a streamlet falls from step +to step; the last of the bluebells still linger by the way, and above +them great beech-boles rise, all chequered with sun splashes. On the +earth dead leaves make a russet warmth, brighter by contrast with the +young green round about, and brilliant where sunlight winnows through. +There, in the direct beam, flash little flies, which hang suspended upon +the light like golden beads; while through the glades, young fern is +spread for pleasant resting-places. Pigeons murmur aloft unseen, and +many a grey-bird and black-bird sing beside their hidden homes. + +At last the woodlands make an end, old orchards spread in a clearing, +and the sun, now turning west, has left the apple trees, so that their +blossom hangs cool and shaded on the boughs. Behind--a background for +the orchard--there rise the walls of an ancient house, weathered and +worn--a mass of picturesque gables and tar-pitched roofs with red-brick +chimneys ascending above them. No great dignity or style marks this +dwelling. It is a thing of patches and additions. Here the sun still +burns radiantly, makes the roof golden, and flashes on the snow-white +"fan-tails" that strut up and down upon it. + +Great Scotch firs tower to the south, and the light burns redly in their +boughs against the blue sky above them. A farmhouse nestles beside the +old mansion under a roof of ancient thatch, that falls low over the +dawn-facing front, and makes ragged eyelashes for the little windows. +The face of the farm is nearly hidden in green things, and a colour note +of mauve dominates the foliage where wistaria showers. There are +climbing roses too, a Japanese quince, and wallflowers and columbines in +the garden plot that subtends the dwelling. Mossy walls enclose the +garden, and beneath them spreads the farmyard--a dust-dry place to-day +wherein a litter of black piglets gambol round their mother. Poultry +cluck and scratch everywhere, and a company of red calves cluster +together in one corner. A ploughman brings in his horses. From a byre +comes the purr of milk falling into a pail. + +On still evenings bell music trickles up to this holt of ancient peace +from a church tower three miles away; for we stand in the parish of +Ilsington on the shoulder of Dartmoor, and the home of the silver +"fan-tails" is Bagtor House--a spot sanctified to all book-lovers. Here, +a very mighty personage first saw the light and began his pilgrimage; at +Bagtor was John Ford born, the first great decadent of English letters, +the tragedian whose sombre works belong to the sunset time of the +spacious days. + +In April of 1586 the infant John received baptism at Ilsington church; +while, sixteen years later, he was apprenticed to his profession and +became a member of the Middle Temple. At eighteen John Ford, who wrote +out of his own desire and under an artist's compulsion only, first +tempted fortune; and over his earliest effort, _Fame's Memorial_, a veil +may be drawn; while of subsequent collaborations with Webster and +Decker, part perished unprinted and Mr. Warburton's cook "used up" his +comedies. Probably they are no great loss, for a master with less sense +of humour never lived. But _The Witch of Edmonton_ in Swinburne's +judgment embodies much of Ford's best, and his greatest plays all +endure. + +The man who wrote _The Lover's Melancholy_, _'Tis Pity She's a Whore_, +_The Broken Heart_ and _Love's Sacrifice_ was born in this sylvan scene +and his cradle rocked to the murmur of wood doves. True he vanished +early from Devonshire, and though uncertain tradition declares his +return, asserting that, while still in prime and vigour, he laid by his +gown and pen and came back to Bagtor, to end his days where he was born, +and mellow his stormy heart before he died, no proof that he did so +exists. His life's history has been obliterated and contemporary records +of him have yet to appear. + +As an artist he must surely have loved horror for horror's sake, and, +too often, our terror arouses not that pity to which tragedy should lift +man's heart, but rather generates disgust before his extraordinary plots +and the unattractive and inhuman characters which unravel them. One +salutes the intellectual power of him, but merely shudders, without +being enchained or uplifted by the nature of his themes. It has been +well said of Ford that he "abhorred vice and admired virtue; but +ordinary vice or modern virtue were to him as light wine to a dram +drinker.... Passion must be incestuous or adulterous; grief must be +something more than martyrdom, before he could make them big enough to +be seen." + +There is a little of Michaelangelo about Ford--something excruciating, +tortured. The tormented marble of the one is reflected in the wracked +and writhing characters of the other; but whether Ford felt for the +sorrow of earth as the Florentine; whether he shared that mightier man's +fiery patriotism, enthusiasm of humanity and tragic griefs before the +suffering of mankind, we know not. One picture we have of him from old +time, and it offers a gloomy, aloof figure, little caring to win +friendship, or court understanding from his fellows:-- + + Deep in a dump John Ford was alone got, + With folded arms and melancholy hat. + +So depicted the gloomy artist might serve for tragedy's self--arms +crossed, brows drawn, eyes darkling under the broad-brimmed beaver, with +the plotter's night-black cloak swept round his person. Or to a vision +of Michaelangelo's "Il Penseroso" we may exalt the poet, and see him in +that solemn and stately stone, finally at peace, his last word written +and the finger of silence upon his gloomy lips. + +Hazlitt finds John Ford finical and fastidious. He certainly is so, and +one often wonders how this mind and pen should have welcomed such +appalling subjects. He plays with edged tools and too well knows the +use of poisoned weapons, says Hazlitt; and the criticism is just in the +opinion of those who, with him, account it an artist's glory that he +shall not tamper with foul and "unfair" subjects, or sink his genius to +the kennel and gutter. That, however, is the old-world, vanished +attitude, for artists recognise no "unfair" subjects to-day. + +Indeed, Ford can be not seldom beautiful and tender and touched to +emotion of pity; but by the time of Charles, the golden galaxies were +gone; their forces were spent; their inspiration had perished; England, +merry no more, began to shiver in the shadow of coming puritan eclipse; +and that twilight seems to have cast by anticipation its penumbra about +Ford. + +There is in him little of the rollicking, superficial coarseness of the +Elizabethans; the stain is in web and woof. His great moments are few; +he is mostly ferocious, or absurdly sentimental, and one confesses that +the bulk of his best work, judged against the highest of ancient or +modern tragedy, rings feebly with a note of too transparent artifice. He +is moved by intellectual interest rather than creative inspiration; +there is far more brain than heart in his writings. + +Perhaps he knew it and convinced himself, while still at the noon of +intelligence, that he was no creator. Perhaps he abandoned art, through +failure to satisfy his own ideals. At any rate it would seem that he +stopped writing at a time when most men have still much to give. + +One would like at least to believe that he found in his birthplace the +distinguished privacy he desired and an abode of physical and mental +peace. He may, indeed, have come home again to Devon when his work was +ended; he may have passed the uncertain residue of life in seclusion +with wife and family at this estate of his ancestors; his dust may lie +unhonoured and unrecorded at Ilsington, as Herrick's amid the green +graves not far distant at Dean Prior. + +It is all guesswork, and the truth of John Ford's life, as of his death, +may be forever hidden. One sees him a notable, silent, subtle man, prone +to pessimism as a gift of heredity--a man disappointed in his +achievement, soured by inner criticism and comparison with those who +were greater than he. + +So, weary of cities and the company of wits and poets, he came back to +the country, that he might heal his disappointments and soothe his +pains. His life, to the unseeing eyes around him, doubtless loomed +prosperous and complete; to himself, perchance, all was dust and ashes +of thwarted ambition. Again he roamed the woods where he had learned to +walk; won to the love of nature; underwent the thousand new experiences +and fancied discoveries of a townsman fresh in the country; and, through +these channels, came to contentment and sunshine of mind, bright enough +to pierce the night of his thoughts and sweeten the dark currents of his +imagination. It may be so. + + + + +OKEHAMPTON CASTLE + +[Illustration: OKEHAMPTON CASTLE.] + + +A high wind roared over the tree-tops and sent the leaf +flying--blood-red from the cherry, russet from the oak, and yellow from +the elm. Rain and sunshine followed swiftly upon each other, and the +storms hurtled over the forest, hissed in the river below and took fire +through their falling sheets, as the November sun scattered the +rear-guard of the rain and the cloud purple broke to blue. A great wind +struck the larches, where they misted in fading brightness against the +inner gloom of the woods, and at each buffet, their needles were +scattered like golden smoke. Only the ash trees had lost all their +leaves, for a starry sparkle of foliage still clung to every other +deciduous thing. The low light, striking upon a knoll and falling on +dripping surfaces of stone and tree trunk, made a mighty flash and +glitter of it, so that the trees and the scattered masonry, that +ascended in crooked crags above their highest boughs, were lighted with +rare colour and blazed against the cloud masses now lumbering +storm-laden from the West. + +The mediæval ruin, that these woods had almost concealed in summer, now +loomed amid them well defined. Viewed from aloft the ground plan of the +castle might be distinctly traced, and it needed no great knowledge to +follow the architectural design of it. The sockets of the pillars that +sprang to a groined entrance still remained, and within, to right and +left of the courtyard, there towered the roofless walls of a state +chamber, or banqueting hall, on the one hand, a chapel, oratory and +guard-room on the other. The chapel had a piscina in the southern wall; +the main hall was remarkable for its mighty chimney. Without, the ruins +of the kitchens were revealed, and they embraced an oven large enough to +bake bread for a village. Round about there gaped the foundations of +other apartments, and opened deep eyelet windows in the thickness of the +walls. The mass was so linked up and knit together that of old it must +have presented one great congeries of chambers fortified by a circlet of +masonry; but now the keep towered on a separate hillock to the +south-west of the ruin, and stood alone. It faced foursquare, dominated +the valley, and presented a front impregnable to all approach. + +This is the keep that Turner drew, and set behind it a sky of mottled +white and azure specially beloved by Ruskin; but the wizard took large +liberties with his subject, flung up his castle on a lofty scarp, and +from his vantage point at stream-side beneath, suggested a nobler and a +mightier ruin than in reality exists. One may suppose that steps or +secret passages communicated with the keep, and that in Tudor times no +trees sprang to smother the little hill and obscure the views of the +distant approaches--from Dartmoor above and the valleys beneath. Now +they throng close, where oak and ash cling to the sides of the hillock +and circle the stones that tower to ragged turrets in their midst. + +Far below bright Okement loops the mount with a brown girdle of foaming +waters that threads the meadows; and beyond, now dark, now wanly +streaked with sunshine, ascends Dartmoor to her border heights of Yes +Tor and High Willhayes. Westerly the land climbs again and the last +fires of autumn flicker over a forest. + +I saw the place happily between wild storms, at a moment when the walls, +warmed by a shaft of sunlight, took on most delicious colour and, +chiming with the gold of the flying leaves, towered bright as a dream +upon the November blue. + +At the Conquest, Baldwin de Redvers received no fewer than one hundred +and eighty-one manors in Devon alone, for William rewarded his strong +men according to their strength. We may take it, therefore, that this +Baldwin de Redvers, or Baldwin de Brionys, was a powerful lieutenant to +the Conqueror--a man of his hands and stout enough to hold the West +Country for his master. From his new possessions the Baron chose +Ochementone[1] for his perch; indeed, he may be said to have created the +township. With military eye he marked a little spur of the hills that +commanded the passes of the Moor and the highway to Cornwall and the +Severn Sea; and there built his stronghold,--the sole castle in Devon +named in Domesday. But of this edifice no stone now stands upon another. +It has vanished into the night of time past, and its squat, square, +Norman keep scowls down upon the valleys no more. + +[1] "Okehampton" is a word which has no historic or philological excuse. + +The present ruins belong to the Perpendicular period of later +centuries, and until a recent date the second castle threatened swiftly +to pass after the first; but a new lease of life has lately been given +to these fragments; they have been cleaned and excavated, the conquering +ivy has been stripped from their walls, and a certain measure of work +accomplished to weld and strengthen the crumbling masonry. Thus a +lengthened existence has been assured to the castle. "Time, which +antiquates antiquities," is challenged, and will need reinforcement of +many years wherein again to lift his scaling ladders of ivy, loose his +lightnings from the cloud, and marshal his fighting legions of rain and +tempest, frost and snow. + + + + +THE GORGE + +[Illustration: THE GORGE.] + + +Reflection swiftly reveals the significance of a river gorge, for it is +upon such a point that the interest of early man is seen to centre. The +shallow, too, attracts him, though its value varies; it must ever be a +doubtful thing, because the shallow depends upon the moods of a river, +and a ford is not always fordable. But to the gorge no flood can reach. +There the river's banks are highest, the aperture between them most +trifling; there man from olden time has found the obvious place of +crossing and thrown his permanent bridge to span the waterway. At a +gorge is the natural point of passage, and Pontifex, the bridge-builder, +seeking that site, bends road to river where his work may be most easily +performed, most securely founded. But while the bridge, its arch +springing from the live rock, is safe enough, the waters beneath are +like to be dangerous, and if a river is navigable at all, at her gorges, +where the restricted volume races and deepens, do the greatest dangers +lie. In Italy this fact gave birth to a tutelary genius, or shadowy +saint, whose special care was the raft-men of Arno and other rivers. +Their dangerous business took these _foderatore_ amid strange hazards, +and one may imagine them on semi-submerged timbers, swirling and +crashing over many a rocky rapid, in the throats of the hills, where +twilight homed and death was ever ready to snatch them from return to +smooth waters and sunshine. So a new guardian arose to meet these +perils, and the boldest navigator lifted his thoughts to Heaven and +commended his soul to the keeping of San Gorgone. + +Sublimity haunts these places; be they great as the Grand Cañon of +Arizona and the mountain rifts of Italy and France, or trifling as this +dimple on Devon's face of which I tell to-day, they reveal similar +characteristics and alike challenge the mind of the intelligent being +who may enter them. + +Here, under the roof of Devon, through the measures that press up to the +Dartmoor granite and are changed by the vanished heat thereof, a little +Dartmoor stream, in her age-long battle with earth, has cut a right +gorge, and so rendered herself immortal. There came a region in her +downward progress when she found barriers of stone uplifted between her +and her goal; whereupon, without avoiding the encounter, she cast +herself boldly upon the work and set out to cleave and to carve. Now +this glyptic business, begun long before the first palæolithic man trod +earth, is far advanced; the river has sunk a gulley of near two hundred +feet through the solid rock, and still pursues her way in the nether +darkness, gnawing ceaselessly at the stone and leaving the marks of her +earlier labours high up on either side of the present channel. There, +written on the dark Devonian rock, is a record of erosion set down ages +before human eye can have marked it; for fifty feet above the present +bed are clean-scooped pot-holes, round and true, left by those +prehistoric waters. But the sides of the gorge are mostly broken and +sloping; and upon the shelves of it dwell trees that fling their +branches together with amazing intricacies of foliage in summer-time and +lace-like ramage in winter. Now bright sunshine flashes down the pillars +of them and falls from ledge to ledge of each steep precipice; it +brightens great ivy banks and illuminates a thousand ferns, that stud +each little separate knoll in the great declivities, or loll from clefts +and crannies to break the purple shadows with their fronds. The buckler +and the shield fern leap spritely where there is most light; the +polypody loves the limb of the oak; the hart's tongue haunts the +coolest, darkest crevices and hides the beauty of silvery mosses and +filmy ferns under cover of each crinkled leaf. And secret waters twinkle +out by many a hidden channel to them, bedewing their foliage with grey +moisture. + +On a cloudy day night never departs from the deepest caverns of this +gorge, and only the foam-light reveals each polished rib and buttress. +The air is full of mist from a waterfall that thunders through the +darkness, and chance of season and weather seldom permit the westering +sun to thrust a red-gold shaft into the gloom. But that rare moment is +worth pilgrimage, for then the place awakens and a thousand magic +passages of brightness pierce the gorge to reveal its secrets. In such +moments shall be seen the glittering concavities, the fair pillars and +arches carved by the water, and the hidden forms of delicate life that +thrive upon them, dwelling in darkness and drinking of the foam. Most +notable is a crimson fungus that clings to the dripping precipices like +a robe, so that they seem made of polished bloodstone, and hint the +horror of some tragedy in these loud shouting caves. Below the mass of +the river, very dark under its creaming veil of foam, shouts and +hastens; above, there slope upwards the cliff-masses to a mere ribbon of +golden-green, high aloft where the trees admit rare flashes from the +azure above them. Beech and ash spring horizontally from the precipices, +and great must be the bedded strength of the roots that hold their +trunks hanging there. With the dark forces of the gorge dragging them +downward and the sunshine drawing them triumphantly up--between +gravitation and light--they poise, destruction beneath and life +beckoning from above. They nourish thus above their ultimate graves, +since they, too, must fall at last and join those dead tree skeletons +whose bones are glimmering amid the rocks below. + +Here light and darkness so cunningly blend that size is forgotten, as +always happens before a thing inherently fine. The small gorge wrought +of a little river grows great and bulks large to imagination. The +soaring sides of it, the shadow-loving things beneath, the torture of +the trees above, and the living water, busy as of yore in levelling its +ancient bed to the sea, waken wonder at such conquest over these +fire-baked rocks. The heart goes out to the river and takes pleasure to +follow her from the darkness of her battle into the light again, where, +flower-crowned, she emerges between green banks that shelve gently, hung +with wood-rush and meadow-sweet, angelica and golden saxifrage. Here +through a great canopy of translucent foliage shines the noon sunlight, +celebrating peace. Into the river, where she spreads upon a smooth pool, +and trout dart shadowy through the crystal, the brightness burns, until +the stream bed sparkles with amber and agate and flashes up in sweet +reflections beneath each brier and arched fern-frond bending at the +brink. + +Nor does the rivulet lack correspondence with greater streams in its +human relation; she is complete in every particular, for man has found +her also; and dimly seen, amid the very tree-tops, where the gorge +opens, and great rocks come kissing close, an arch of stone carries his +little road from hamlet to hamlet. + + + + +THE GLEN + +[Illustration: THE GLEN.] + + +There is a glen above West Dart whence a lesser stream after brief +journeying comes down to join the river. By many reaches, broken with +little falls, the waters descend upon the glen from the Moor; but +barriers of granite first confront them, and before the lands break up +and hollow, a mass of boulders, piled in splendid disorder and crowned +with willow and rowan, crosses the pathway of the torrent. Therefore the +little river divides and leaps and tumbles foaming over the mossy +granite, or creeps beneath the boulders by invisible ways. Into fingers +and tresses the running waters dislimn, and then, that great obstacle +passed, their hundred rillets run together again and go on their way +with music. By a descent that becomes swiftly steeper, the burn falls +upon fresh rocks, is led into fresh channels and broken to the right and +left where mossy islets stand knee-deep in fern and bilberry. Here +spring up the beginnings of the wood, for the glen is full of trees. +Beech and alder, with scrub of dwarf willow at their feet, cluster on +the islets and climb the deepening valley westward; but in the glen +stand aged trees, and on the crest of the slope haggard spruce firs +still fight for life and mark, in their twisted and decaying timbers and +perishing boughs, the torment of the unsleeping wind. Great is the +contrast between these stricken ruins with death in their high tops, +and the sylva beneath sheltered by the granite hill. There beech and +pine are prosperous and sleek compared with the unhappy, time-foundered +wights above them; but if the spruces perish, they rule. The lesser +things are at their feet and the sublimity of their struggle--their +mournful but magnificent protest against destiny--makes one ignore the +sequestered woodland, where there is neither battle nor victory, but +comfortable, ignoble shelter and repose. The river kisses the feet of +these happy nonentities; they make many a stately arch and pillar along +the water; in spring the pigeon and the storm-thrush nest among their +branches; and they gleam with newly-opened foliage and shower their +silky shards upon the earth; in autumn they fling a harvest of sweet +beech mast around their feet. The seed germinates and thousands of +cotyledon leaves appear like fairy umbrellas, from the waste of the dead +leaves. The larger number of these seedlings perish, but some survive to +take their places in fulness of time. + +By falls and rapids, by flashing stickles and reaches of stillness, the +little river sinks to the heart of the glen; but first there is a +water-meadow under the hills where an old clapper-bridge flings its +rough span from side to side. This is of ancient date and has been more +than once restored against the ravages of flood since pack-horses +tramped that way in Tudor times. Here the streamlet rests awhile before +plunging down the steeps beyond and entering the true glen--a place of +shelving banks and many trees. + +In summer the dingle is a golden-green vision of tender light that +filters through the beeches. Here and there a sungleam, escaping the +net of the leaf, wins down to fall on mossy boulder and bole, or plunge +its shaft of brightness into a dark pool. Then the amber beam quivers +through the crystal to paint each pebble at the bottom and reveal the +dim, swift shades of the trout, that dart through it from darkness back +to darkness again. In autumn the freshets come and the winds awaken +until a storm of foliage hurtles through the glen, now pattering with +shrill whispers from above and taking the water gently; now whirling in +mad myriads, swirling and eddying, driven hither and thither by storm +until they bank upon some hillock, find harbour among holes and the +elbows of great roots, or plunge down into the turmoil of the stream. +The ways of the falling leaf are manifold, and as the rock delays the +river, so the trees, with trunk and bough, arrest the flying foliage, +bar its hurrying volume and deflect its tide. In winter the glen is +good, for then a man may escape the north wind here and, finding some +snug holt among the river rocks, mark the beauty about him while snow +begins to touch the tree-tops and the boughs are sighing. Then can be +contrasted the purple masses of sodden leaves with the splendour of the +mosses among which they lie; for now the minor vegetation gleams at +this, its hour of prime. It sheets every bank in a silver-green fabric +fretted with liquid jewels or ice diamonds; it builds plump knobs and +cushions on the granite, and some of the mosses, now in fruit, brush +their lustrous green with a wash of orange or crimson, where tiny +filaments rise densely to bear the seed. Here, also, dwelling among +them, flourishes that treasure of such secret nooks by stream-side, the +filmy fern, with transparent green vesture pressed to the +moisture-laden rocks. + +Man's handiwork is also manifested here; not only in the felled trees +and the clapper-bridge, but uniquely and delightfully; for where the +river quickens over a granite apron and hastens in a torrent of foam +away, the rocks have tongues and speak. He who planted this grove and +added beauty to a spot already beautiful, was followed by his son, who +caused to be carved inscriptions on the boulders. You may trace them +through the moss, or lichen, where the records, grown dim after nearly a +hundred years, still stand. It was a minister of the Church who amused +himself after this fashion; but in no religious spirit did he compose; +and the scattered poetry has a pleasant, pagan ring about it proper to +this haunt of Pan. + +Upon one great rock in the open, with its grey face to the south-west +and its feet deeply bedded in grass and sand, you shall with care +decipher these words:-- + + Sweet Poesy! fair Fancy's child! + Thy smiles imparadise the wild. + +Beside the boulder a willow stands, its finials budding with silver; +upon the north-western face of the stone is another inscription whose +legend startles a wayfarer on beholding the bulk of the huge mass. "This +stone was removed by a flood 17--." + +On the islets and by the pathway below, sharp eyes may discover other +inscribed stones, and upon one island, which the bygone poet called "The +Isle of Mona," there still exist inscriptions in "Bardic characters." +These he derived from the _Celtic Researches_ of Davies. Furnished with +the English letters corresponding to these symbols, one may, if +sufficiently curious, translate each distich as one finds it. Elsewhere, +beside the glen path, a sharp-eyed, little lover of Nature, tore the +coat of moss from another phrase that beat us both as we hunted through +the early dusk:-- + + Ye Naiads! venera + +This was the complete passage, and we puzzled not a little to solve its +meaning. On dipping into the past, however, I discovered that the +inscription was intended to have read as follows:-- + + Ye Naiads! venerate the swain + Who joined the Dryads to your train. + +The rhyme was designed to honour the poet's father, who set the forest +here; but accident must have stayed the stone-cutter's hand and left the +distich incomplete. + +And now a sudden flash of red aloft above the tree-tops told that the +sun was setting. Night thickened quickly, though the lamp of a great red +snow-cloud still hung above the glen long after I had left it. Beneath, +the mass of the beech wood took on wonderful colour and the streamlet, +emerging into meadows, flashed back the last glow of the sky. + + + + +A DEVON CROSS + +[Illustration: A DEVON CROSS.] + + +There are two orders of ancient human monuments on Dartmoor--the +prehistoric evidences of man's earliest occupation and the mediæval +remains that date from Tudor times, or earlier. The Neolith has left his +cairns and pounds and hut circles, where once his lodges clustered upon +the hills. The other memorials are of a different character and chiefly +mark the time of the stannators, when alluvial tin abounded and the Moor +supported a larger population than it does to-day. Ruins of the smelting +houses and the piled debris of old tin-streaming works may be seen on +every hand, and the moulds into which molten tin was poured still lie in +hollows and ruins half hidden by the herbage. Here also, scattered +irregularly, the Christian symbol occurs, on wild heaths and lonely +hillsides, to mark some sacred place, indicate an ancient path, or guide +the wayfaring monk and friar of old on their journey by the Abbot's Way. + +Of these the most notable is that venerable fragment known as Siward's +Cross--a place of pilgrimage these many years. + +Now, on this day of March, snow-clouds swept the desert intermittently +with their grey veils and often blotted every landmark. At such times +one sought the little hillocks thrown up by vanished men and hid in some +hollow of the tin-streamers' digging to escape the pelt of the snow and +avoid the buffet of the squall that brought it. Then the sun broke up +the welter of hurrying grey and for a time the wind lulled and the brief +white shroud of the snow melted, save where it had banked against some +obstacle. + +The lonely hillock where stands Siward's Cross, or "Nun's Cross," as +Moormen call it, lies at a point a little above the western end of Fox +Tor Mire. The land slopes gently to it and from it; the great hills roll +round about. To the east a far distance opens very blue after the last +snow has fallen; to the south tower the featureless ridges of Cator's +Beam with the twin turrets of Fox Tor on their proper mount beneath +them. The beginnings of the famous mire are at hand--a region of +shattered peat-hags and morasses--where, torn to pieces, the earth gapes +in ruins and a thousand watercourses riddle it. All is dark and sere at +this season, for the dead grasses make the peat blacker by contrast. It +is a chaos of rent and riven earth ploughed and tunnelled by bogs and +waterways; while beyond this savage wilderness the planes of the hills +wind round in a semicircle and hem the cradle of the great marshes below +with firm ground and good "strolls" for cattle, when spring shall send +them in their thousands to the grazing lands of the Moor again. + +The sky shone blue by the time I reached the old cross and weak sunlight +brightened its familiar face. The relic stands seven feet high, and now +it held a vanishing patch of snow on each stumpy arm. Its weathered +front had made a home for flat and clinging lichens, grey as the granite +for the most part, yet warming to a pale gold sometimes. Once the cross +was broken and thrown in two pieces on the heath; but the wall-builders +spared it, for the monument had long been famous. Antiquarian interest +existed for the old relic, and it was mended with clamps of iron, and +lifted upon a boulder to occupy again its ancient site. + +For many a year experts puzzled to learn the meaning of the inscriptions +upon its face, and various conjectures concerning them had their day; +but it was left for our first Dartmoor authority, William Crossing, who +has said the last word on these remains, to decipher the worn +inscription and indicate its significance. He finds the word "Siward," +or "Syward," on the eastern side, and the word "Boc-lond," for +"Buckland," on the other, set in two lines under the incised cross that +distinguishes the western face of the monument. + +"Siward's Cross" is mentioned in the Perambulation of 1240. "It is +named," says Mr. Crossing, "in a deed of Amicia, Countess of Devon, +confirming the grant of certain lands for building and supporting the +Abbey of Buckland, among which were the manors of Buckland, Bickleigh +and Walkhampton. The latter manor abuts on Dartmoor Forest, and the +boundary line, which Siward's Cross marks at one of the points, is drawn +from Mistor to the Plym. The cross, therefore, in addition to being +considered a forest boundary mark, also became one to the lands of +Buckland Abbey, and I am convinced that the letters on it which have +been so variously interpreted simply represent the word 'Bocland.' The +name, as already stated, is engraved on the western face of the +cross--the side on which the monks' possessions lay." + +Elsewhere he observes that Siward's Cross, "standing as it does on the +line of the Abbot's Way, would seem not improbably to have been set up +by the monks of Tavistock as a mark to point out the direction of the +track across the Moor; and were it not for the fact that it has been +supposed to have obtained its name from Siward, Earl of Northumberland, +who, it is said, held property near this part of the Moor in the +Confessor's reign, I should have no hesitation in believing such to be +the case." + +No matter who first lifted it, still it stands--the largest cross on +Dartmoor--like a sentinel to guard the path that extended between the +religious houses of Plympton, Buckland and Tavistock. And other crosses +there are beyond the Mire, where an old road descended over Ter Hill. +But the Abbot's Way is tramped no more, and the princes of the Church, +with their men-at-arms and their mules and pack-horses, have passed into +forgotten time. Few now but the antiquary and holiday-maker wander to +Siward's Cross; or the fox-hunter gallops past it; or the folk, when +they tramp to the heights for purple harvest of "hurts" in summer-time. +The stone that won the blessings of pious men, only comforts a heifer +to-day; she rubs her side against it and leaves a strand of her red hair +caught in the lichens. + +The snow began to fall more heavily and the wind increased. Therefore I +turned north and left that local sanctity from olden time, well pleased +to have seen it once again in the stern theatre of winter. It soon +shrank to a grey smudge on the waste; then snow-wreaths whirled their +arms about it and the emblem vanished. + + + + +COOMBE + +[Illustration: COOMBE.] + + +Life comes laden still with good days that whisper of romance, when in +some haunt of old legend, our feet loiter for a little before we pass +forward again. I indeed seek these places, and confess an incurable +affection for romance in my thoughts if not my deeds. I would not banish +her from art, or life; and though most artists of to-day will have none +of her, spurn romantic and classic alike, and take only realism to their +bosoms; yet who shall declare that realism is the last word, or that +reality belongs to her drab categories alone? + +"There is no 'reality' for us--nor for you either, ye sober ones, and we +are far from being so alien to one another as ye suppose, and perhaps +our goodwill to get beyond drunkenness is just as respectable as your +belief that ye are altogether _incapable_ of drunkenness." + +A return to romance most surely awaits literature, when our artists have +digested the new conditions and discovered the magic and mystery that +belong to newly created things--whether Nature or her human child has +made them; but for the moment, those changes that to-day build +revolution, stone on stone, demand great seers to record the romantic +splendour of their promise, sing justly of all that science is doing, +write the epic of our widening view and show man leading the lightning +chained in his latest triumph. For us, who cannot measure such visions, +there remains Nature--the incurable romantic--who retains her early +methods, loves the sword better than the pruning-hook, and still +sometimes strikes jealously at her sophisticated child, who has learned +to substitute a thousand wants for the simple needs that she could +gratify. + +At Coombe, on the coast of North Cornwall, there yet lies a nest of old +romance, wherein move, for dream-loving folk, the shadows of an old-time +tale. Nature reigns unchanged in the valley and her processions and +pageants keep their punctual time and place; but once a story-teller +came hither, and the direct, genial art of a brave spirit found +inspiration here. From this secluded theatre sprang _Westward Ho!_ and +none denies willing tribute to him who made that book. + +Seen on this stormy December day with a north-wester raging off the sea +and the wind turning the forest music to "a hurricane of harps," Coombe +Valley lives with music and movement. Far away in the gap eastward rises +a blue mound with Kilkhampton Church-tower perched thereon, and thence, +by winding woods, the way opens to the historic mill. Full of tender +colour are the tree-clad hills--a robe of grey and amber and amethyst, +jewelled here and there, where the last of the leaves still hang. +Wind-beaten oak and larch, beech and ash twine their arms together and +make a great commotion where the woven texture of their boughs is +swaying and bending. Their yield and swing challenge the grey daylight, +and it plays upon them and flings a tracery of swift brightness over the +forest. The light is never still, but trembles upon the transparent +woods, so that every movement of their great mass wins an answering +movement from the illumination that reveals them. Beneath, under the +tremulous curtain and visible through its throbbing, lies the earth's +bosom, all brown with fallen leaves. It swells firm and solid under +restless branch and bough, and listens to the great song of the trees. +Sometimes a sunburst from the sky touches the woodland, and the ramage +aloft sparkles like a gauze of silver over the russet and gold beneath. + +In the heart of the valley there runs a river, and, freed from her work, +the mill-stream leaps to join it. The mill-wheel thunders, as it did +when little Rose Salterne set stout hearts beating and dreamed dreams, +wherein no sorrow homed or horror whispered. But time has not forgotten +Coombe Mill, and, to one who may love flowers, the evidence of progress +chiefly lies among them. There is a garden here and many a plant, that +had not yet faced the buffets of an English winter when Kingsley's +heroine tended her clove-pinks and violets, now thrives contented in +this little garth. + +Beside the mill-pond, flogged by the December storm, Kaffir lilies wave +their crimson and the red fuchsia flourishes. A bush of golden eleagnus +is happy, and a shrubby speedwell thrives beside it; honeysuckles climb +to the thatch of the white-washed homestead; a rambler rose hangs out +its last blossoms; and a yellow jasmine also blooms upon the wall. +Marigolds and lavender and blue periwinkles trail together in a bright +wreath against the darkness of the water-wheel; there are stocks and +Michaelmas daisies, too, with the silver discs of honesty and the fading +green of tamarisk. + +Many suchlike things flourish in this cradle of low hills, for winter is +a light matter here, and great cold never comes to them. They push +forth and creep into the lanes and hedges; they find the water-meadows +and love the shelter of the apple trees and the brink of the stream. + +Beside the mill there towers a great ivy-tod in fruit, and rises the +weathered mill-house, stoutly built to bear the strain within. Once +granite mill-wheels ground the corn, but now their day is over and they +repose, flower crowned, in the hedges outside. The eternal splashing of +water has painted a dark stain here, and ferns have found foothold. One +great hart's tongue lolls fifty wet green leaves out from the gloom of +the wheel-chamber. + +All is movement and bustle; the mill-stream races away to the river, and +the river to the sea. The tree-tops bend and cry; the clouds tell of the +gale overhead, now thinning to let the sunshine out, now darkening under +a sudden squall and dropping a hurtle of hail. + +From the mill-pool to the west opened another vision of meadows with a +little grey bridge in the midst of them. Hither winds the stream, trout +in every hover, and the brown hills rise on either side, barren and +storm-beaten. Then, at the mouth of the land between them, a great +welter of white foam fills the gap, for the storm has beaten the sea +mad, and the roar of it ascends in unbroken thunder over the meadows. +Behind the meeting-place of land and ocean, there roll the lashed and +stricken seas, all dim and grey; and their herds are brightened with +sunshine or darkened by cloud, as the wind heaves them to shore. But +there is no horizon from which we can trace them. They emerge wildly out +of the flying scud of cloud that presses down upon the waters. + + + + +OLD DELABOLE + +[Illustration: OLD DELABOLE.] + + +Where low and treeless hills roll out to the cliffs, and the gulls cry +their sea message over farms and fields, a mighty mouth opens upon the +midst of the land and gapes five hundred feet into the earth. In shape +of a crater it yawns, and its many-coloured cliffs slope from the +surface inwards. The great cup is chased and jewelled. Round it run many +galleries, some deserted, some alive with workers. Like threads of light +they circle it, now opening upon the sides of the rounded cliffs, now +suspended in air under perpendicular precipices. In the midst is the +quarter-mile incline that descends to the heart of the cup and connects +the works above with the works below; and elsewhere are other gentle +acclivities, where moraines of fallen stone ooze out in great cones +beneath the cliffs. Under them stand square black objects, dwarfed to +the size of match-boxes, which wrestle with this huge accumulation of +over-burden. Steam puffs from the machines; they thrust their scoops +into the fallen mass; at each dig they pick up a ton and a half of +rubbish and then deposit it in a trolley that waits for the load hard +by. A network of tram-lines branches every way in the bottom of the cup, +and extends its fingers to the points of attack; and where they end--at +smudges of silver-grey scattered about the bottom of the quarry--there +creep little atoms, like mites on a cheese. + +Centuries have bedecked and adorned the sides of this stupendous pit; +and while naked sheets and planes of colour, the work of recent years, +still gleam starkly, all innocent of blade and leaf, elsewhere in +deserted galleries and among cliff-faces torn bare by vanished +generations of men, green things have made their home and flourished +with luxuriance, to the eternal drip of surface water. Ferns and +foxgloves and a thousand lesser plants thrive in niches and crevices of +the stone; and there is a splendid passage of flame, where the mimulus +has found its way by some rivulet into the quarry, and sheets a +precipice with gold. + +By steps and scarps the sides fall, narrowing always to the bottom; but +the cliff planes are huge enough for sunshine and shadow to paint +wonderful pictures upon them and find the colours--the olive and blue +and mossy green, or the great splashes and patches of rose and russet +that make harmony there. They melt together brokenly; and sometimes they +are fretted with darkness and spotted with caverns, or mottled and +zigzagged by rusty percolations of iron. + +One noble cliff falls sheer five hundred feet to a wilderness of rock, +and across its huge front there hang aerial threads, like gossamers, +while at its crown black wheels and chimneys tower into the sky. Below, +upon the bluff of a crag, there turns a wheel, and a great pump, with +intermittent jolt and grunt, sucks the water from the bottom of the +quarry and sends it to tanks up aloft. This machine, with its network of +arms and wheels, hangs very black on the cliff-side, and a note of black +is also carried into the midst of the grey and rosy cliff-faces by +little wheels that hang from the gossamers and tiny threads depending +from them. They drop to the mites in the silver-grey cheese beneath, and +from time to time masses and wedges of nearly two tons weight are +hoisted upward and float through the air to the surface, like +thistle-down. + +The quarry is full of noises--the clank of the pumps, the rattle of the +trucks, the hiss of pneumatic and steam drills, the clink of tampers and +the rumble and rattle of the great rocks dislodged by crowbars from the +cliffs. Men shout, too, and their voices are as the drone of little +gnats; but sometimes, at the hour of blasting, an immense volume of +sound is liberated, and the thunder of the explosion crashes round and +round the cup and wakes a war of echoes thrown from cliff to cliff. + +Once there were dwellings within the cup; but the needs of the quarry +caused their destruction, and now but two cottages remain. The ragged +cliff-edges creep towards them, and they will soon vanish, after +standing for a hundred years. + +Everywhere the precious stone, now silver-green, now silver-grey, is +being dragged up the great incline, or wafted through air to the workers +above; and once aloft, another army of men and boys set to work upon it +and split and hack and chop and square it into usefulness. On all sides +the midgets are burrowing below and wrestling with the stone above; +thousands of tons leave the works weekly, and yet such is the immensity +of the mass, that the sides of the quarry seem hardly changed from year +to year. For more than three hundred and fifty years has man delved at +Old Delabole. Elizabethans worked its rare slate; and since their time, +labouring ceaselessly, we have scratched out this stupendous hole and +covered our habitations therefrom, through the length and breadth of +the United Kingdom. Cathedrals and cottages alike send to Delabole for +their slates; there are extant buildings with roofs two hundred years +old, that show no crack or flaw; while more ancient than the stones that +cover man's home must be those that mark his grave, and Delabole slates +in churchyards, or on church walls, might doubtless be found dating from +Tudor times. + +Five hundred men and boys are employed at Old Delabole, and their homes +cluster in the little village without the works. Their type is Celtic, +but many very blonde, high-coloured men labour here. All are polite, +easy, and kindly; all appear to find their work interesting and take +pleasure in explaining its nature to those who may be interested. The +slate fills countless uses besides that of roofing, and the methods of +cleaving and cutting it cannot easily be described. Steam plays its +part, and the masses are reduced to manageable size by steel saws which +slip swiftly through them; then workmen tackle the imperishable stuff, +and with chisel and mallet split the sections thinner and thinner. It +comes away wonderfully true, and a mass of stone gives off flake after +flake until the solid rock has turned into a pile of dark grey slates, +clean and bright of cleavage and ready for the roof. Green-grey or +"abbey-grey" is the mass of the quarry output; but a generous production +of "green" is also claimed. This fine stuff runs in certain veins, and +offers a tone very beautiful and pleasant to the eye. Lastly, there are +the reds--jewels among slates--that shine with russet and purple. This +stone is rare, and can only be quarried in small quantities. All +varieties have the slightest porosity, and take their places among the +most distinguished slates in the world. + + + + +TINTAGEL + + +Ragged curtains of castellated stone climb up the northern side of a +promontory and stretch their worn and fretted grey across the sea and +sky. They are pierced with a Norman door, and beyond them there spreads +a blue sea to the horizon; above it shines a summer sky, against whose +blue and silver the ruin sparkles brightly. Beneath, a little bay opens, +and the dark cliffs about it are fringed with foam; while beyond, "by +Bude and Bos," the grand coastline is flung out hugely, cliff on cliff +and ness on ness, until Hartland lies like a cloud on the sea and little +Lundy peeps above the waters. Direct sunshine penetrates the haze from +point to point, now bringing this headland out from among its +neighbours, now accentuating the rocky islands, or flashing on some +sea-bird's wing. + +Shadow, too, plays its own sleight; the cliff that was sun-kissed fades +and glooms, while the scarps and planes before shaded, shine out again +and spread their splendour along the sea. Light and darkness race over +the waves also, and now the fringes of foam flash far off in the +sunshine and streak the distant bases of earth; now they are no more +seen, when the cloud shadows dim their whiteness and spread purple on +the blue. + +A ewe and her lamb come through the gateway in the castle wall. They +share the green slopes with me and browse along together. Overhead the +gulls glide and a robber gull chases a jackdaw, who carries a lump of +bread or fat in his beak. The gull presses hard upon the smaller bird, +and Jack at last, after many a turn and twist, drops his treasure. +Whereupon the gull dives downward and catches it in mid-air before it +has fallen a dozen yards. + +The flora on these crags is interesting, though of little diversity. +Familiar grasses there are, with plantain and sheep's sorrel, the silene +and cushion pink, the pennywort and blue jasione, the lotus and +eye-bright; but unsleeping winds from the west affect them as altitude +dwarfs the alpines, and these things, though perfect and healthy and +fair to see, are reduced to exquisite miniatures, where they nestle in +the crannies of the rocks and flash their pink and white, or blue and +gold, against the grey and orange lichens that wash the stones with +colour and climb the ruin in the midst. + +In sheltered nooks the foxglove nods, but he, too, is dwarfed, yet seems +to win a solid splendour of bells and intensity of tint from his +environment. + +Other castle fragments there are--scattered here and on the neighbour +cliff to the east; but they are of small account--no more than the +stumps of vanished ramparts and walls. Even so, they stood before any +word was printed concerning them, or pictures made. An ancient etching +of more than two hundred years old shows that their fragments were then +as now, and only doubtful tradition furnishes the historian with any +data. + +But the castle is perched on a noble crag, whose strata of marble and +slate and silver quartz slope from east to west downward until they +round into sea-worn bosses and dip under the blue. The story of +gigantic upheavals is written here, and the weathered rocks are cleft +and serrated and full of wonderful convolutions for dawn and dusk to +play upon. Here more wild flowers find foothold, and the wild bird makes +her home. The cliffs are crested with samphire, and the white umbels of +the carrot; they are brushed with the pale lemon of anthyllis, and the +starry whiteness of the campion; they are honeycombed beneath by +caverns, where the sea growls on calm days and thunders in time of +storm. + +Westward of the mount, guarding the only spot where boat can land from +these perilous waters, a fragment of the ruin still holds up above the +little bay, within bow-shot of any adventurous bark that would brave a +landing. + +Here is all that is left of the last castle on this famous headland. Of +the so-called "Arthurian" localities, the most interesting and richest +in tradition is that of North Cornwall, and at its centre lie these +ancient strongholds. In addition to the Castle of Tintagel one finds +King Arthur's Hall and Hunting Seat, his bed and his cups and saucers, +his tomb and his grave. + +It is a long and intricate story, and none may say what fragment of +reality homes behind the accumulated masses of myth and legend. With the +bards of the sixth century and those that followed them we find the +English beginnings of Arthur and his celebration as a first-class +fighting man. Then it would seem he disappeared for a while, and takes +no place, either in history or romance, until the ninth century. In 858, +however, one Nennius, a Briton, made a history of the hero, some three +centuries after his supposed death in 542. The "magnanimous Arthur" of +Nennius fought against the Saxons, and, amid many more noble than +himself, was twelve times chosen commander of his race. The Britons, we +learn, conquered as often as he led them to war; and in his final and +mightiest battle--that of Badon Hill--we are to believe that 940 of the +enemy fell by Arthur's hand alone--a Homeric achievement, unassisted +save by the watching Lord. Thereafter his activities ranged over other +of the Arthurian theatres and campaigns before he died at Camlan. + +But alas for song! From Geoffrey of Monmouth to Tennyson, that last +prodigious battle on the Camel has been the joy of poetry, and the +mighty adventure between Arthur and Mordred has been told and retold a +thousand times; yet if those warriors ever did meet, it was certainly in +Scotland, and not Cornwall, that the encounter took place. Camlan is +Camelon in the Valley of the Forth, and here a tolerably safe tradition +tells that the King of the Picts, with his Scots and Saxons, defeated +the Britons and slew their King. + +Leland reported to Henry VII. that "This castle hath been a marvellous +strong fortress and almost _situ in loco_ inexpugnabile, especially from +the dungeon that is on a great and terrabil crag environed with the se, +but having a drawbridge from the residue of the castel on to it. Shepe +now feed within the dungeon." + +That Arthur was begotten at Tintagel we may please to believe; but that +he died far from the land of his birth seems sure. + +As for the existing ruin, it springs from that of the castle which saw +the meeting of Arthur's parents, Uther Pendragon and the fair Igraine; +but the original British building has long since vanished, and the +present remains, dating from the Norman Conquest, did not rise until six +hundred years later than the hero's death. An old Cornish tradition +declares that Arthur's mighty spirit passed into a Cornish chough, and +in the guise of that beautiful crow with the scarlet beak, still haunts +the ruins of his birthplace. + + + + +A CORNISH CROSS + +[Illustration: A CORNISH CROSS.] + + +Kerning corn waved to the walls of the little churchyard and spread a +golden foreground for the squat grey mass of the church that rose behind +it. The building stood out brightly, ringed with oak and sycamore, and +the turrets of the tower barely surmounted the foliage wrapped about it. +Rayed in summer green the trees encircled church and burying-ground with +shade so dense that the sun could scarce throw a gleam upon the graves. +They lay close and girdled the building with mounds of grass and slabs +of slate and marble. The dripping of the trees had stained the stones +and cushions of moss flourished upon them. Here was the life of the +hamlet written in customary records of triumphant age, failures of +youth, death of children--all huddled together with that implicit pathos +of dates that every churchyard holds. + +But more ancient than any recorded grave, more venerable than the church +itself, a granite cross ascended among the tombs. Centuries had +weathered the stone so that every angle of its rounded head and +four-sided shaft was softened. Time had wrought on the granite mass, as +well as man, and fingering the relic through the ages, had blurred every +line of the form, set grey lichens on the little head of the Christ that +hung there and splashed the shaft with living russet and silver and +jade-green. The old cross rose nine feet high, its simple form clothed +in a harmony of colours beautiful and delicate. The arms were filled +with a carved figure of primitive type and a carmine vegetation washed +the rough surfaces and outlined the human shape set in its small tunic +stiffly there. Green moss covered the head of the cross and incised +patterns decorated its sides to within a foot or two of the grass by a +churchyard path from which it sprang. + +The design was of great distinction and I stood before one of the finest +monuments in Cornwall. On the north side ran a zigzag; while to the +south a more elaborate key-pattern was struck into the stone--a design +of triangles enfolding each other. The back held the outline of a square +filled with a cross and a shut semicircle carved beneath; while upon the +face, under the head which contained the figure, there occurred another +square with a cross. The shaft upon this side was adorned with the +outline of a tall jug, or ewer, from which sprang the conventional +symbol for a lily flower. + +There was another detail upon the southern side which seemed to lift +this aged stone back into the mists of a past still more remote, for +there, just above the ground, might be read the fragment of an +inscription in debased Latin capitals. They were no longer decipherable +save for the solitary word "FILIUS" which was easily to be +distinguished, and this fragment of an obliterated inscription spoke +concerning a period earlier by centuries than the carving and +decoration. Indeed it indicated that the memorial was a palimpsest--a +pre-Christian pillar-stone transformed at a later age to its present +significance. + +There are above three hundred old crosses still standing in Cornwall, +and not a few of these, dating from time beyond the Roman period, +originally marked the burying-places of the pagan dead. At a later +period, long after their original erection, they were mutilated. But the +greater number of these grand stones belong to Christianity, and by +their varied decorations the age of them may approximately be learned. + +Some bear the _Chi Rho_ monogram, which stands for the first two letters +of the Greek "Christos," and these belong to the seventh century; but +the more numerous appear to date from that later period when the sacred +figure of the Christ began to be substituted in religious architecture +for the symbolic lamb that always preceded it. The Eastern Church +authorised this innovation, after A.D. 683, and pronounced that "The +Lamb of Christ, our Lord, be set up in human shape on images henceforth, +instead of the Lamb formerly used." The earliest type is not +particularly human, however, and the little, archaic, shirted doll of +Byzantine pattern, which ornaments so many of these Cornish crosses, has +not much save archæological interest to commend it. Until Gothic times +this was the conventional pattern, and it is assumed that these early +crucifixes dated from the eighth century and onward until a more +naturalistic figure began to appear. + +Scattered over the far-flung landscape of the West our Cornish crosses +stand; by meadow and tilth and copse, among the little hamlets of the +peninsula, in lonely heaths and waste places overrun by wild growing +things, they shall be found. Sometimes the Atlantic is their background +and sometimes the waters of the Channel. They were set on the roads that +led to the churches, and served not only as places for prayer, but also +as sign-posts on the church-ways. Now many of the more splendid +specimens have been rescued, as in the case of this great cross, and +stand in churchyards, or under the shadow of sanctified buildings. Their +fragments are also scattered over the land, here set in walls, here at +cross-roads, now as a gate-post, or a stepping-stone, or foot-bridge. +Sometimes they serve for boundary stones, and are yearly beaten; +occasionally they support a sundial; not seldom the Ordnance Surveyors +have outraged them with bench marks. Often only the stunted head and +limbs of the wheel-crosses remain, their shafts vanished forever; still +more frequently the cross-bases or pedestals alone have been chronicled +and the stones that surmounted them exist no longer. None can say how +numerous they were of old time; and it may happen, while many have been +destroyed past recovery or restoration, that others still exist in +obscure places, or sheltered by the saving earth, for a future race of +antiquaries to discover and reclaim. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A West Country Pilgrimage, by Eden Phillpots + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 36967-8.txt or 36967-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/9/6/36967/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A West Country Pilgrimage + +Author: Eden Phillpots + +Illustrator: A. T. Benthall + +Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36967] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="368" height="600" alt="Cover" title="Cover"> +</div> + +<p class="h2">A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE</p> +<p class="h3">Eden Phillpotts</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<a href="images/i_005f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_005t.jpg" width="425" height="600" alt="TINTAGEL." title="TINTAGEL."> +</a> +<span class="caption">TINTAGEL.</span> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter"> +<h1 id="booktitle">A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE</h1> + +<p class="h3">BY</p> + +<p class="h2">EDEN PHILLPOTTS</p> + +<p class="h4">AUTHOR OF<br> +"DANCE OF THE MONTHS," "A SHADOW PASSES," ETC.</p> + +<br> + +<p class="h3"><i>ILLUSTRATED BY A. T. BENTHALL</i></p> + +<br> + +<p class="h4">LONDON<br> +LEONARD PARSONS<br> +PORTUGAL STREET</p> + +<br> + +<p class="h5"><i>First Published, May 1920</i></p> + +<p class="h5"><i>Leonard Parsons, Ltd.</i></p> + +<br> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<p class="h2">CONTENTS</p> + +<div class="centered"> + <table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"></td> + <td class="tdr">Page</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#HAYES_BARTON"><b>HAYES BARTON</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">7</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_SAD_HEATH"><b>THE SAD HEATH</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">15</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#DAWLISH_WARREN"><b>DAWLISH WARREN</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">21</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_OLD_GREY_HOUSE"><b>THE OLD GREY HOUSE</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">29</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#BERRY_POMEROY"><b>BERRY POMEROY</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#BERRY_HEAD"><b>BERRY HEAD</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">41</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_QUARRY_AND_THE_BRIDGE"><b>THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">47</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#BAGTOR"><b>BAGTOR</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">55</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#OKEHAMPTON_CASTLE"><b>OKEHAMPTON CASTLE</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">63</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_GORGE"><b>THE GORGE</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">69</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_GLEN"><b>THE GLEN</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">77</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#A_DEVON_CROSS"><b>A DEVON CROSS</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">85</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#COOMBE"><b>COOMBE</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">91</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#OLD_DELABOLE"><b>OLD DELABOLE</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">97</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#TINTAGEL"><b>TINTAGEL</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">103</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#A_CORNISH_CROSS"><b>A CORNISH CROSS</b></a></td> + <td class="tdr">111</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="HAYES_BARTON" id="HAYES_BARTON"></a>HAYES BARTON</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_012f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_012t.jpg" width="400" height="302" alt="HAYES BARTON." title="HAYES BARTON."> +</a> +<span class="caption">HAYES BARTON.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[9]</span></p> + +<p>East of Exe River and south of those rolling heaths +crowned by the encampment of Woodberry, there lies a green +valley surrounded by forest and hill. Beyond it rise great +bluffs that break in precipices upon the sea. They are dimmed +to sky colour by a gentle wind from the east, for Eurus, however +fierce his message, sweeps a fair garment about him. Out of +the blue mists that hide distance the definition brightens and +lesser hills range themselves, their knolls dark with pine, their +bosoms rounded under forest of golden green oak and beech; +while beneath them a mosaic of meadow and tilth spreads in pure +sunshine. One field is brushed with crimson clover; another +with dull red of sorrel through the green meadow grass; another +shines daisy-clad and drops to the green of wheat. Some +crofts glow with the good red earth of Devon, and no growing +things sprout as yet upon them; but they hold seed of roots +and their hidden wealth will soon answer the rain.</p> + +<p>In the heart of the vale a brook twinkles and buttercups +lie in pools of gold, where lambs are playing together.</p> + +<p>Elms set bossy signets on the land and throng the hedgerows, +their round tops full of sunshine; under them the +hawthorns sparkle very white against the riot of the green. +From the lifted spinneys and coverts, where bluebells fling<span class="pagenum">[10]</span> +their amethyst at the woodland edge, pheasants are croaking, +and silver-bright against the blue aloft, wheel gulls, to link the +lush valley with the invisible and not far distant sea. They +cry and musically mew from their high place; and beneath +them the cuckoo answers.</p> + +<p>Nestling now upon the very heart of this wide vale a +homestead lies, where the fields make a dimple and +the burn comes flashing. Byres and granaries light gracious +colour here, for their slate roofs are mellow with lichen +of red gold, and they stand as a bright knot round +which the valley opens and blossoms with many-coloured +petals. The very buttercups shine pale by contrast, and the +apple-blooth, its blushes hidden from this distance, masses +in pure, cold grey beneath the glow of these great roofs. Cob +walls stretch from the outbuildings, and their summits are +protected against weather by a little penthouse of thatch. +In their arms the walls hold a garden of many flowers, +rich in promise of small fruits. Gooseberries and raspberries +flourish amid old gnarled apple trees; there are strawberries, +too, and the borders are bright with May tulips and peonies. +Stocks and wallflowers blow flagrant by the pathway, murmured +over by honey bees; while where the farmhouse itself +stands, deep of eave under old thatch, twin yew trees make +a dark splash on either side of the entrance, and a wistaria +showers its mauve ringlets upon the grey and ancient front. +The dormer windows are all open, and there is a glimpse of +a cool darkness through the open door. Within the solid +walls of this dwelling neither sunshine nor cold can penetrate, +and Hayes Barton is warm in winter, in summer cool. The<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> +house is shaped in the form of a great E, and it has been +patched and tinkered through the centuries; but still stands, +complete and sturdy in harmony of design, with unspoiled +dignity from a far past. Only the colours round about it +change with the painting of the seasons, for the forms of hill +and valley, the modelling of the roof-tree, the walls and the +great square pond outside the walls, change not. Enter, and +above the dwelling-rooms you shall find a chamber with wagon +roof and window facing south. It is, on tradition meet to be +credited, the birthplace of Walter Ralegh.</p> + +<p>Proof rests with Sir Walter's own assertion, and at one time +the manor house of Fardel, under Dartmoor, claimed the +honour; but Ralegh himself declares that he was born at Hayes, +and speaks of his "natural disposition to the place" for that +reason. He desired, indeed, to purchase his childhood's home +and make his Devonshire seat there; but this never happened, +though the old, three-gabled, Tudor dwelling has passed through +many hands and many notable families.</p> + +<p>"Probably no conceivable growth of democracy," says a +writer on Ralegh's genealogy, "will make the extraction of +a famous man other than a point of general interest." +Ralegh's family, at least, won more lustre from him than +he from them, though his mother, of the race of the +Champernownes, was a mother of heroes indeed. By her +first marriage she had borne Sir Walter's great half-brother, +Humphrey Gilbert; and when Otho Gilbert passed, the widow +wedded Walter Ralegh, and gave birth to another prodigy. +The family of the Raleghs must have been a large and scattered +one; but our Western historian, Prince, stoutly declares that<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> +Sir Walter was descended from an ancient and noble folk, +"and could have produced a much fairer pedigree than some +of those who traduc'd him."</p> + +<p>The tale of his manifold labours has been inadequately told, +though Fame will blow her trumpet above his grave for ever; +but among the lesser histories Prince's brief chronicle is +delightful reading, and we may quote a passage or two for +the pleasure of those who pursue this note.</p> + +<p>"A new country was discovered by him in 1584," says the +historian, "called in honour of the Queen, Virginia: a country +that hath been since of no inconsiderable profit to our nation, +it being so agreeable to our English bodies, so profitable to the +Exchequer, and so fruitful in itself; an acre there yielding over +forty bushels of corn; and, which is more strange, there being +three harvests in a year: for their corn is sow'd, ripe and cut +down in little more than two months."</p> + +<p>I fear Virginia to-day will not corroborate these agricultural +wonders.</p> + +<p>We may quote again, for Prince, on Sir Walter's distinction, +is instructive at this moment:—</p> + +<p>"For this and other beneficial expeditions and designs, +her Majesty was pleased to confer on him the honour of Knighthood; +which in her reign was more esteemed; the Queen +keeping the temple of honour close shut, and never open'd +but to vertue and desert."</p> + +<p>Well may democracy call for the destruction of that +temple when contemplating those that are permitted entrance +to-day.</p> + +<p>Then vanished Elizabeth, and a coward king took her place.<span class="pagenum">[13]</span></p> + +<p>"Fourteen years Sir Walter spent in the Tower, of whom +Prince Henry would say that no King but his father would +keep such a bird in a cage."</p> + +<p>But freedom followed, and the scholar turned into the +soldier again. Ultimately Spain had her way with her scourge +and terror. James ministered to her revenge, and Ralegh +perished; "the only man left alive, of note, that had helped +to beat the Spaniards in the year 1588."</p> + +<p>The favour of the axe was his last, and being asked which +way he would dispose himself upon the block, he answered, +"So the heart be right, it is no matter which way the head +lieth."</p> + +<p>"Authors," adds old Prince, "are perplexed under what +topick to place him, whether of statesman, seaman, soldier, +chymist, or chronologer; for in all these he did excel. He +could make everything he read or heard his own, and his own +he would easily improve to the greatest advantage. He +seemed to be born to that only which he went about, so dextrous +was he in all his undertakings, in Court, camp, by sea, by land, +with sword, with pen. And no wonder, for he slept but five +hours; four he spent in reading and mastering the best authors; +two in a select conversation and an inquisitive discourse; +the rest in business."</p> + +<p>We may say of him that not only did he write <i>The History +of the World</i>, but helped to make it; we may hold of all Devon's +mighty sons, this man the mightiest. Fair works have been +inspired by his existence, but one ever regrets that Gibbon, who +designed a life of Ralegh, was called to relinquish the idea +before the immensity of his greater theme.<span class="pagenum">[14]</span></p> + +<p>In the western meadow without the boundary of Hayes +Barton there lies a great pool, where a cup has been hollowed +to hold the brook. Here, under oak trees, one may sit, mark +a clean reflection of the farmhouse upon the water, and regard +the window of the birth chamber opening on the western +gable of the homestead. Thence the august infant's eyes first +drew light, his lungs, the air. He has told us that dear to +memory was that snug nook, and many times, while he wandered +the world and wrote his name upon the golden scroll, we may +guess that the hero turned his thought to these happy valleys +and, in the mind, mirrored this haunt of peace.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="THE_SAD_HEATH" id="THE_SAD_HEATH"></a>THE SAD HEATH</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_022f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_022t.jpg" width="400" height="303" alt="THE SAD HEATH." title="THE SAD HEATH."> +</a> +<span class="caption">THE SAD HEATH.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[17]</span></p> + +<p>Through the sad heath white roads wandered, trickling +hither and thither helplessly. There was no set purpose +in them; they meandered up the great hill and sometimes +ran together to support each other. Then, fortified by +the contact, they climbed on across the dusky upland, where it +rolled and fell and lifted steadily to the crown of the land: +a flat-headed clump of beech and oak with a fosse round about +it. Only the roads twisting through this waste and a pool +or two scattered upon it brought any light to earth; but +there were flowers also, for the whins dragged a spatter of +dull gold through the sere and a blackthorn hedge shivered +cold and white, where fallow crept to the edge of the moors. +For the rest, from the sad-coloured sky to the sentinel pines +that rose in little detached clusters on every side, all was +restrained and almost melancholy. The pines specially distinguished +this rolling heath. They lifted their darkness in +clumps, ascending to the hill-tops, spattered every acre of +the land, and sprang as infant plants under the foot of the +wanderer. Scarcely a hundred yards lacked them; and they +ranged from the least seedling to full-grown trees that rose +together and thrust with dim red branch and bough through +their own darkness.<span class="pagenum">[18]</span></p> + +<p>There was no wind on the heath, and few signs of spring. +She had passed, as it seemed, lighted the furzes, waked a +thousand catkins on the dwarf sallows in the bogs, and +then departed elsewhere. One felt that the deserted heath +desired her return and regarded its obstinate winter robes +with impatience. It was an uplifted place, and seemed to +shoulder darkly out of the milder, mellower world beneath. +Far below, an estuary shone through the valley welter +and ran a streak of dull silver from south to north; while +easterly rose up the grey horizons of the sea.</p> + +<p>In the murk of that silent hour, a spirit of thirst seemed +to animate the heather and the marshes that oozed out beneath. +The secret impressed upon my conscious intelligence was one of +suspense, a watchful and alert attitude—an emotion shared +by the trees and the thickets, the heath and the hills. It +ascended higher and higher to the frowning crest of the land, +where round woods made a crown for the wilderness and marked +castramentations of old time. So unchanging appeared this +place that little imagination was needed to bring back the past +and revive a vanished century when the legions flashed where +now the great trees frowned and a hive of men, loosed from +a hundred galleys, swarmed hither to dig the ditches and +pile these venerable earthworks for a stronghold.</p> + +<p>Thus the place lay in the lap of that tenebrous hour and +waited for the warm rain to loose its fountains of sap and +brush the loneliness with waking and welcoming green. It +endured and hoped and seemed to turn blind eyes from the +pond and bog upward to question the gathering clouds.</p> + +<p>Nigh me, a persistent and inquiring thrush clamoured<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> +from a pine. I could see his amber, speckled bosom shaking +with his song.</p> + +<p>"Why did he do it? Why did he do it? Why did he?"</p> + +<p>He had asked the question a thousand times; and then a +dark bird, that flapped high and heavy through the grey +air, answered him.</p> + +<p>"God knows! God knows!" croaked the carrion crow.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="DAWLISH_WARREN" id="DAWLISH_WARREN"></a>DAWLISH WARREN</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_030f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_030t.jpg" width="400" height="301" alt="DAWLISH WARREN." title="DAWLISH WARREN."> +</a> +<span class="caption">DAWLISH WARREN.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[23]</span></p> + +<p>There is a spit of land that runs across the estuary of the +Exe, and as the centuries pass, the sea plays pranks with it. +A few hundred years ago the tideway opened to the West, +not far from the red cliffs that tower there, and then Exmouth +and the Warren were one; but now it is at Exmouth that the +long sands are separated from the shore and, past that little +port, the ships go up the river, while the eastern end of the +Warren joins the mainland. So it has stood within man's +memory; but now, as though tired of this arrangement, +wind and sea are modifying the place again, for the one has +found a new path in the midst, and the other has blown at +the sand dunes until their heads are reduced by many feet +from their old altitude.</p> + +<p>These sands are many-coloured, for over the yellow staple +prevails a delicate and changing harmony of various tones, +now rose, now blue, as though a million minute shining particles +were reflecting the light of the sky and bringing it to +earth on their tiny surfaces. But in truth these tender shades +show where the sand is weathered, for if we walk upon it and +break the thin crust created by the last rain, the dream tints +depart, and a brighter corn colour breaks through. Coarse +mat-grass binds the dunes and helps to hold them together +against the forces of wind and water; but their tendency is<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> +to decrease. Perhaps observation would prove that their +masses shift and vanish more quickly than we guess, for the +sand is the sea's toy, and she makes and unmakes her castles +at will.</p> + +<p>As a lad, I very well remember the silvery hills towering +to little mountains above my head; and again I can hear the +gentle tinkle of the sand for ever rustling about me where I +basked like a lizard in some sun-baked nook. I remember +the horrent couch grass that waved its ragged tresses above +me, and how I told myself that the range of the sand dunes +were great lions with bristling manes marching along to Exmouth. +Presently they would swim across to the shore and +eat up everybody, as soon as they had landed and shaken +themselves. And the mud-flats I loved well also, where the +sea-lavender spread its purple on sound land above the network +of mud. I flushed summer snipe there and often lay motionless +to watch sea-birds fishing. Many wild flowers flourished +and the glass-wort made the flats as red as blood in autumn. +It was a dreamland of wonders for me, and now I was seeking +mermaids' purses in the tide-fringe and sorrowing to find them +empty; now I was after treasure-trove flung overboard from +pirate ships, now hunting for the secret hiding-places of +buccaneers in the dunes.</p> + +<p>The ships go by still; but not the ships I knew; the flowers +still sparkle in the hollows and brakes; but their wonder has +waned a little. No more shall I weave the soldanella and sea-rocket +and grey-green wheat grass into crowns for the sea-nymphs +to find when they come up from the waves in the +moonlight.<span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p> + +<p>It is a place of sweet air and wonderful sunshine. On a +sunny day, with the sand ablaze against the blue sky, one might +think oneself in some desert region of the East; but then +green spaces, scarlet flags and a warning "fore!" tell a different +story. For golfers have found the Warren now. Where +once I roamed with only the gulls above and rabbits below +for company, and for music the sigh of the wind in the bents +and the song of the sea, half a hundred little houses have +sprung up, and bungalows, red and white and green, throng +the Warren. At hand is a railway-station, whence hundreds +descend to take their pleasure, while easterly this once peaceful +region is most populous and the Exmouth boats cross the +estuary and land their passengers.</p> + +<p>One does not grudge the joy of the place to townsfolk or +golfers; one only remembers the old haunt of peace, now +peaceful no more, the old beauties that have vanished under +the little dwellings and little flagstaffs, the former fine +distinction that has departed.</p> + +<p>Dawlish Warren now gives pleasure to hundreds, where +once only the dreamer or sportsman wandered through its +mazes; and that is well; but we of the old brigade, who +remember its far-flung loneliness, its rare wild flowers, its +unique contours, its isolation and peculiar charm, may be +forgiven if we forget the twentieth century for a season and +conjure back the old time before us.</p> + +<p>Topsham, in the estuary, wakens thoughts of the Danes +and their sword and fire, when Hungar and Hubba brought +their Viking ships up the river, destroyed the busy little port, +and, pushing on, defeated St. Edmond, King of the East<span class="pagenum">[26]</span> +Angles. The pagans scourged this Christian monarch with +whips, then bound him to a tree and slew him.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tho' no place was left for wounds,<br></span> +<span class="i0">Yet arrows did not fail.<br></span> +<span class="i0">These furious wretches still let fly<br></span> +<span class="i0">Thicker than winter's hail.<br></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So writes the old poet quoted by Risdon, who adds that the +Danes, cutting off St. Edmond's head, "contumeliously threw +it in a bush."</p> + +<p>But Topsham in Tudor times was a place of importance, a naval port, a +mart and road for ships. Thanks to weirs built across the waterway by +the Earls of Devon, Exeter began to lose its old-time trade, when the +tide was wont to ascend to the city. Therefore Exeter fought the earls, +and in the reign of Henry VIII. the city obtained a grant to cut a canal +from Topsham. Thus vessels of fifteen tons burthen could ascend to the +capital, and Topsham sank under the blow and lost its old importance.</p> + +<p>Exmouth also figures in the reign of Edward I. as a naval +port. In 1298 she contributed a fighting ship to the Fleet, +and in 1347 sent ten vessels to aid the third Edward's expedition +against Calais. From Exmouth, too, Edward IV. and +Warwick, "the King Maker," embarked for the Continent.</p> + +<p>Risdon also makes mention of Lympston, another village +in the estuary, aforetime in the lordship of the Dynhams, +"of which family John Dynham, a valiant esquire siding with +the Earl of March, took the Lord Rivers and Sir Anthony +his son at Sandwich in their beds, when he was hurt in the leg, +the 37th Henry 6."<span class="pagenum">[27]</span></p> + +<p>The villages are worth a visit still, but Exmouth is best +known to those who visit Dawlish Warren now. For the open +sea welcomes all who come hither, and the little holiday homes +that stand on either side of the tidal stream are too few for +those who would dwell here in July and August if they could.</p> + +<p>I have seen dawn upon the Exe, and watched the mists +rise upon these heron-haunted flats to meet the morning. +Then the villages twinkle out over the water, and a land +breeze wakens the sleepy dunes, ruffles the still waters and +fills the red sails of little fishers that come down to the sea.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="THE_OLD_GREY_HOUSE" id="THE_OLD_GREY_HOUSE"></a>THE OLD GREY HOUSE</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_040f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_040t.jpg" width="400" height="310" alt="THE OLD GREY HOUSE." title="THE OLD GREY HOUSE."> +</a> +<span class="caption">THE OLD GREY HOUSE.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[31]</span></p> + +<p>Among the ancient, fortified manors of the West Country +there is a pleasant ruin whose history is innocent of event, +yet glorified with a noble name or two that rings down through +the centuries harmoniously. You shall find Compton Castle +where the hamlet of Lower Marldon straggles through a deep +and fertile valley not many miles from Torbay.</p> + +<p>Compton's time-stained face and crown of ivy rise now +above a plat of flowers. Trim borders of familiar things +blossom within their box-hedges before the entrance, and at +this autumn hour fat dahlias, spiring hollyhocks, and rainbows +of asters and pansies wind a girdle beneath the walls.</p> + +<p>It is a ruin of wide roofs and noble frontage. Above its +windows sinister bartizans frown grimly; the portals yawn vast +and deep; only the chapel-windows open frankly upon the face +of the dwelling; but above, all apertures are narrow, up to +the embattled towers.</p> + +<p>In the lap of many an enfolding hill Compton huddles its +aged fabric, and, despite certain warlike additions, can have +risen for no purpose of offence, for the land rakes it on every +side; it stands at the bottom of a great green cup, whose slopes +are crowned with fir and beech, whose sides now glimmer under +stubble of corn, green of roots, and wealth of wide orchards, +bright with the ripening harvest. Close at hand men make<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> +ready the cider-presses again, and the cooper's mallet echoes +among his barrels.</p> + +<p>Much of the castle still stands, and the entrance hall, +chapel, priest's chamber, and kitchen, with its gigantic hearth +and double chimney, are almost intact. A mouldering roof +of lichened slates still covers more than half of the ruin; but +the banqueting hall has vanished, and many a tower and +turret, under their weight of ivy, lift ragged and broken to the +sky. Where now jackdaws chiefly dwell and bats sidle through +the naked windows at call of dusk; where wind and rain +find free entrance and pellitory-of-the-wall hangs its foliage +for tapestry, with toadflax and blue speedwell; where Nature +labours unceasing from fern-crowned battlement to mossy +plinth, there dwelt of old the family of Gilbert.</p> + +<p>One Joan Compton conveyed the manor for her partage in +the second Edward's reign; and of their posterity are justly +remembered and revered the sons of Otho Gilbert, whose lady—a +maiden of the Champernownes—bore not only Humphrey, +the adventurer, who discovered Gilbert's Straits and founded +the first British settlement of Newfoundland; but also his +more famous uterine brother, Walter Ralegh. For upon Otho +Gilbert's passing, his dame mated with Walter Ralegh of +Fardel, and by him brought into the world the poet, +statesman, soldier, courtier, explorer, and master-jewel of +Elizabeth's Court. A noble matron surely must have been +that Katherine, mother of two such sons; and less only in +honour to these knights were Sir Humphrey's brothers, of +whom Sir John, his senior, rendered himself acceptable to God +and man by manifold charities and virtues; while Adrian<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> +Gilbert is declared a gentleman very eminent for his skill +in mines and matters of engineering and science.</p> + +<p>Within these walls tradition brings Sir Walter and Sir +Humphrey together. We may reasonably see them here +discussing their far-reaching projects, while still the world +smiled and both basked in the sunshine of Royal favour. +Yet, at the end of their triumphs, from our standpoint in +time, we can mark, stealing along the avenue of years, the +shadow, hideous in one case and violent in both, destined +presently to put a period to each great life.</p> + +<p>When the little <i>Squirrel</i>, a vessel of but ten tons burthen, +was bearing Sir Humphrey upon his last voyage from Newfoundland, +before his vision there took shape the spectre of +a mighty lion gliding over the sea, "yawning and gaping wide +as he went." Upon which portent there rose the storm whereby +he perished. Yet the knight's memory is green, and his +golden anchor, with pearl at peak, badge of a Sovereign's +grace, is not forgot; nor his crest of a squirrel, whose living +prototype still haunts the fir trees beside the castle; nor his +motto, worthy of so righteous a genius and steadfast a man: +"<i>Malem mori, quam mutare</i>."</p> + +<p>The navigator passed to his restless resting-place in 1584; +his half-brother, still busy with the colonisation of Virginia, +did not kneel at Westminster and brush his grey hair from the +path of the axe until Fate had juggled with him for further +four-and-thirty years. Then his sword and pen were laid down; +his wise head fell low; and the portion of the great: well-doing, +ill report, was won.</p> + +<p>At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end; when<span class="pagenum">[34]</span> +the owl glides out from his tower to the trees and the beetles +boom, twilight shadows begin to move and the old grey house +broods, like a sentient thing, upon the past; but no unhappy +spirits haunt its desolation, and the mighty dead, despite their +taking off, revisit these glimpses of the moon to clasp pale +hands no more. Abundant life flows to the gate and circles the +walls. Arable land ascends the hills, and the clank of plough +and cry of man to his horses will soon be heard in the stubble +of the corn. The orchards flash ruddy and gold; to-morrow +they will be naked and grey; and then again they will foam +with flowers and roll in a white sea to the castle walls. Time +rings his rounds and forgets not this sequestered hollow. Today, +beside the entrance-gate of Compton, the husbandman +mounts his nag from that same "upping-stock" whence a +Gilbert and a Ralegh leapt to horse in England's age of gold.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="BERRY_POMEROY" id="BERRY_POMEROY"></a>BERRY POMEROY</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 405px;"> +<a href="images/i_048f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_048t.jpg" width="405" height="600" alt="BERRY POMEROY." title="BERRY POMEROY."> +</a> +<span class="caption">BERRY POMEROY.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[37]</span></p> + +<p>Hither, a thousand years and more ago, rode Radulphus +de la Pomerio, lord of the Norman Castle of the Orchard; for +William I. was generous to those who helped his conquests. +Radulphus, as the result of a hero's achievements at Hastings, +won eight-and-fifty Devon lordships, and of these he chose +Beri, "the Walled town," for his barony, or honour.</p> + +<p>Forward we may imagine him pressing with his cavalcade, +through the wooded hills and dales, until this limestone crag +and plateau in the forest suddenly opened upon his view, and +the Norman eagle, judging the strength of such a position, +quickly determined that here should his eyrie be built. For +it was a stronghold impregnable before the days of gunpowder.</p> + +<p>So the banner with the Pomeroy lion upon it was set +aloft on the bluff, and soon the sleep of the woods departed +to the strenuous labour of a thousand men. There is a +great gap in the hill close at hand that shows whence came +these time-worn stones, when a feudal multitude of workers +were set upon their task. Then, grim, squat and stern, +with a hundred eyes from which the cross-bow's bolts +might leap, arose another Norman castle, its watch-towers +and great ramparts wedged into the woods and beetling over<span class="pagenum">[38]</span> +the valley beneath. It sprang from the solid rock, dominated +a gorge, and so stood for many hundred years, during which +time the descendants of Ralph exercised baronial rights and +enjoyed the favour of their princes. The family, indeed, continued +to prosper until 1549, but then disaster overtook them +and they disappeared, disgraced. It was during this year that +Devon opposed the "Act for Reforming the Church Service." +Tooth and nail she resented the proposed changes; and among +the malcontents there figured a soldier Pomeroy, now head +of his house, who had fought with distinction in France +during the reign of Henry VIII. Like many another military +veteran since his time, he assumed an exceedingly definite +attitude on matters of religion, and held tolerance a doubtful +virtue where dogma was involved. Him, therefore, the discontented +gentlemen of the West elected their leader, and, after +preliminary successes, the baron lost the day at Clist Heath, +nigh Exeter. He was captured, and only escaped with his +life. He kept his head on his shoulders, but Berry Pomeroy +became sequestrated to the Crown.</p> + +<p>By purchase, the old castle now owned new masters, for +the Seymours followed the founders in their heritage, and +the great Elizabethan ruin, that lies in the midst of the +Norman work and towers above it, is of their creation.</p> + +<p>Sir Edward—a descendant of the Protector—it was who, +when William III. remarked to him, "I believe you are of +the family of the Duke of Somerset?" made instant reply, +"Pardon, sir; the Duke of Somerset is of my family." This +haughty gentleman was the last of his race to dwell at Berry +Pomeroy; but to his descendants the castle still belongs, and<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> +it can utter this unique boast: that since the Conquest it has +changed hands but once.</p> + +<p>The fabric of Seymour's mansion was, it is said, never +completed, but enough still stands to make an imposing ruin; +while the earlier fragments of the original fortress, including +the southern gateway, the pillared chamber above it and the +north wing of the quadrangle, complete a spectacle sufficiently +splendid in its habiliments of grey and green.</p> + +<p>Nature had played with it and rendered it beautiful. Ivy +crowns every turret and shattered wall; its limbs writhe +like hydras in and out of the ruined windows, and twist +their fingers into the rotting mortar; while along the +tattered battlements and archways, grass and wild flowers +grow rankly together and many saplings of oak and ash +and thorn find foothold aloft. Over all the jackdaws chime +and chatter, for it is their home now, and they share it with +the owl and the flittermouse.</p> + +<p>Seen from beyond the stew ponds in the valley below, the +ruins of Berry still present a noble vision piled among the +tree-tops into the sky, and never can it more attract than at +autumn time, when the wealth of the woods is scattered and +only spruce and pine trail their green upon the grey and +amber of the naked forest. Then, against the low, lemon +light of a clear sunset, Berry's ragged crown ascends +like a haunted castle in a fairy story; while beneath the +evening glow, the still water casts many a crooked reflection +from the overhanging branches, and the last leaves hanging +on the osiers splash gold against the gloom of the banks. +The hour is very still after wind and rain; twilight broods<span class="pagenum">[40]</span> +under gathering vapours, while another night gently obscures +detail and renders all formless and vast as the darkness falls. +The castle is swallowed up in the woods; the first owl +hoots; then there is a rush overhead and a splash and scutter +below, as the wild duck come down from above, and, for a +little while, break the peace with their noise. Their flurry on +the water sets up wavelets, that catch the last of the light +and run to bank with a little sigh. Then all is silent and +stars begin to twinkle through the network of boughs at +forest edge.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="BERRY_HEAD" id="BERRY_HEAD"></a>BERRY HEAD</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 395px;"> +<a href="images/i_056f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_056t.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="BERRY HEAD." title="BERRY HEAD."> +</a> +<span class="caption">BERRY HEAD.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[43]</span></p> + +<p>Upon this seaward-facing headland the great cliffs slope +outward like the sides of an old "three-decker." They bulge +upon the sea, and the flower-clad scales of the limestone are +full of lustrous light and colour, shining radiantly upon the +still tide that flows at their feet. For, on this breathless +August day, the very sea is weary; not a ripple of foam +marks juncture of rock and water.</p> + +<p>The cliffs are spattered with green, where scurvy-grass and +samphire, thrift and stonecrop find foothold in every cleft; +but the flowers are nearly gone; the rare, white rock rose +which haunts these crags has shed her last petal and the +little cathartic flax and centaury; the snowy dropwort, storks-bill +and carline thistles have all been scorched away by days +of sunshine and dewless nights. Only the sea lavender still +brushes the great, glaring planes of stone with cool colour, and +a wild mallow lolls here and there out of a crevice.</p> + +<p>By the coastguard path holiday folk tramp with hot faces, +but, save for the gulls, there is little sound or movement, for +land and sea are swooning in the heavy noontide hour. The +birds are everywhere—cresting the finials of the rocks, swooping +over the sea, busy teaching the little grey "squabs" to +use their wings and trust the air. Now and then a coney +thrusts his ears from a burrow, likes not the heat, and pops<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> +back again to his cool, dark parlour. Brown hawks hang +above the brown sward. Life seems to be retreating before +the pitiless sun, yet the sear, scorched grasses will be green +again in a few weeks when the cisterns of the autumn rains +open upon them. Already tiny, blue <i>scilla autumnalis</i> is +pressing her head through the turf.</p> + +<p>Islets lie off-shore, so full of light that they glow like +bubbles blown of air and seem to float on the surface of the +sea. Their shadows fall in delicious purple on the aquamarine +waters and warm hues percolate their ragged, silver faces, +while the gulls cluster in myriads upon them, and, black and +silent among the noisy sea-fowl, stand dusky cormorants with +long necks lifted. Like pale blue silk, shot and streamed over +with pure light, the Channel rises to the mists of the horizon. +Light penetrates air and water and earth, so that the weight +of land and water are lifted off them and lost; indeed the +scene appears to be composed of imponderable hazes and +vapours merging into each other; it is wrought in planes of +light—a gorgeous, unsubstantial illumination as though the +clouds were come to earth. The eternal melody of the gulls +pierces the picture with sound, hard and metallic, until their +din and racket seem of heavier substance and reality than the +mighty cliffs and sea from which it pours. Yet the birds +themselves, in their floatings and their wheelings, are lighter +than feathers. They make the only movement save for fisher +craft with tan-red sails now streaming in line round the Head +to sea. For the Scruff they are bound—a great, sandy +bottom where sole and turbot dwell ten sea-miles off-shore.</p> + +<p>Inland gleam cornfields of heavy grain ripe for harvest<span class="pagenum">[45]</span>—pale +yellow of oats and golden brown of wheat, where the +poppies stir with the gipsy rose; and flung up upon the cliff-edge +rise lofty ramparts, ribbed with granite and bored by +portholes for cannon. A modern gun a league out at sea +would crumble these masonries like sponge-cake; but they +were lifted in haste a hundred years ago, when England +quaked at the threatened advent of "Boney," whose ordnance +could not have destroyed them. The great fortresses were +piled by many thousands of busy hands, yet time sped quicker +than the engineers, and before the forts were completed, +Napoleon, from the deck of the <i>Bellerophon</i> in the bay beneath, +had looked his last on Europe.</p> + +<p>Still the unfinished work sprawls over the cliffs, and whence +cannon were meant to stare, now thrust the blackberry, brier +and eagle-fern through the embrasures, and stunted black-thorns +and white-thorns shine green against the grey.</p> + +<p>One clambers among them to seek the gift of a patch of +shade, and wonders what the first Napoleon would have +thought of the hydroplane purring out to sea half a mile +overhead.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="THE_QUARRY_AND_THE_BRIDGE" id="THE_QUARRY_AND_THE_BRIDGE"></a>THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_064f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_064t.jpg" width="400" height="302" alt="THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE." title="THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE."> +</a> +<span class="caption">THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[49]</span></p> + +<p>Lastrea and athyrium, their foliage gone, cling in silky +russet knobs under the granite ledges, warm the iron-grey +stone with brown and agate brightness, and promise many a +beauty of unfolding frond when spring shall come again. For +their jewels will be unfolding presently, to soften the cleft +granite with misty green and bring the vernal time to these +silent cliffs.</p> + +<p>The quarry lies like a gash in the slope of the hills. To +the dizzy edges of it creep heather and the bracken; beneath, +upon its precipices, a stout rowan or two rises, and everywhere +Nature has fought and laboured to hide this wound driven so +deep into her mountain-side by man. A cicatrix of moss and +fern and many grasses conceal the scars of pick and gunpowder; +time has weathered the harsh edges of the riven stone; the +depths of the quarry are covered by pools of clear water, +for it is nearly a hundred years since the place yielded its +stores.</p> + +<p>One great silence is the quarry now—an amphitheatre +of peace and quiet hemmed by the broken abutments of +granite, and opening upon the hillside. The heather extends +over wide, dun spaces to a blue distance, where evening lies +dim upon the plains beneath; round about a minor music of +dripping water tinkles from the sides of the quarry; a current +of air brushes the pools and for a moment frets their pale +<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> +surfaces; the dead rushes murmur and then are silent; here +and there, along the steps and steep places flash the white +scuts of the rabbits. A pebble is dislodged by one of them, +and, falling to the water beneath, sets rings of light widening +out upon it and raises a little sound.</p> + +<p>In the midst, casting its jagged shadow upon the water, +springs a great, ancient crane from which long threads of iron +still stretch round about to the cliffs. It stands stoutly yet +and marks the meaning of all around it.</p> + +<p>At time of twilight it is good to be here, for then one +may measure the profundity of such peace and contrast +this matrix of vanished granite with the scene of its present +disposal; one may drink from this cup all the mystery that +fills a deserted theatre of man's work and feel that loneliness +which only human ruins tell; and then one may open the +eye of the mind upon another vision, and suffer the ear of +imagination to throb with its full-toned roar.</p> + +<p>For hence came London Bridge; the mighty masses of +granite riven from this solitude span Thames.</p> + +<p>Away in the heath and winding onward by many a curve +may yet be traced the first railroad in the West Country. It +started here, upon the frontier hills of Dartmoor, and sank +mile upon mile to the valleys beneath. But of granite were +wrought the lines, and over them ran ponderous wagons. +Many thousand feet of stone were first cut for the railway, +before those greater masses destined for London set forth +upon it to their destination.</p> + +<p>Like the empty quarry this deserted railway now lies silent, +and the place of its passing on the hills and through the forest<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> +beneath is at peace again. From the Moor the tramway drops +into the woods of Yarner, and here, between a heathery hillside +and the fringes of the forest, the broken track may still be +found, its semi-grooved lengths of granite scattered and clad +in emerald moss, where once the great wheels were wont to +grind it. The line passes under interlacing boughs of beeches +and winds this way and that, like a grey snake, through the +copper brightness of the fallen leaves; it turns and twists, +dropping ever, and ceases at last at the mouth of a little canal +in the valley, where barges waited of old to carry the stone +to the sea.</p> + +<p>Here also is stagnation now, but picturesque wrecks of +the ancient boats may still be seen at Teigngrace in the +forgotten waterway. They lie foundered upon the canal with +bulging sides and broken ribs. Their shapes are outlined in +grasses and flowers; sallows leap silvery from the old bulwarks +and alders find foothold there; briar and kingcups +flourish upon their decay; moss and ferns conceal their +wounds; in summer purple spires of loosestrife man their +water-logged decks, and the vole swims to and from his +hidden nest therein.</p> + +<p>Here came the Hey Tor granite, after dropping twelve +hundred feet from the Moor above. Leaving the great wains, +it was shipped upon the Stover Canal and despatched down +the estuary of Teign to Teignmouth, whence larger vessels +bore it away to London for its final purpose.</p> + +<p>It came to supersede that bridge of houses familiar in the +old pictures, the bridge that was a street; the bridge that in +its turn had taken the place of older bridges built with wood:<span class="pagenum">[52]</span> +those mediæval structures that perished each in turn by flood +or fire.</p> + +<p>It was in 1756 that the Corporation of London obtained +an order to rebuild London Bridge; but things must have +moved slowly, for not until fifty years later was the announcement +made of a new bridge to pass from Bankside, Southwark, +to Queen Street, Cheapside. The public was invited to invest +in the enterprise, and doubtless proved willing enough to +do so. The ancient structure, long a danger to the +navigation of the river, vanished, and in 1825, with great +pomp and ceremony, the foundation-stone of the "New London +Bridge" sank to its place. A recent writer in <i>The Academy</i> +has given a graphic picture of the event, and described the +immense significance attached to the occasion. From the +earliest dawn of that June morning, London flocked to waterside +and thronged each point of vantage. Before noon the +roofs of Fishmongers' Hall, of St. Saviour's Church, and every +building that offered a glimpse of the ceremony were crowded; +the river was alive with craft of all descriptions; the cofferdam +for the erection of the first pier served the purpose of a +private enclosure, where notable folk sat in four tiers of +galleries under flags and awnings.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock, by which time the great company must have +been weary of waiting, two six-pounder guns at the Old Swan +Stairs announced the approach of the Civic and State authorities. +The City Marshal, the Bargemasters, the Watermen, the +members of the Royal Society, the Goldsmiths, the Under-Sheriffs, +the Lord Mayor and the Duke of York appeared.</p> + +<p>"His Lordship, who was in full robes," so says an eye-witness<span class="pagenum">[53]</span> +of the event, "offered the chair to his Royal Highness, +which was positively declined on his part. The Mayor, therefore, +seated himself; the Lady Mayoress, with her daughters +in elegant dresses, sat near his Lordship, accompanied by two +fine-looking, intelligent boys, her sons; near them were the +two lovely daughters of Lord Suffolk, and many other +fashionable ladies."</p> + +<p>Then followed the ceremony. Coins in a cut-glass bottle +were placed beneath a copper plate, and upon them descended +a mighty block of Dartmoor granite. "The City sword and +mace were placed upon it crossways, the foundation of the +new bridge was declared to be laid, the music struck up +'God save the King,' and three times three excessive cheers +broke forth from the company, the guns of the Honourable +Artillery Company on the Old Swan Wharf fired a salute, and +every face wore smiles of gratulation. Three cheers were +afterwards given for the Duke of York, three for Old England, +and three for the architect, Mr. Rennie."</p> + +<p>Then did a journalist with imagination dance a hornpipe +upon the foundation-stone—for England would not take its +pleasure sadly on that great day—and subsequently many ladies +stood upon it, and "departed with the satisfaction of being enabled +to relate an achievement honourable to their feelings!"</p> + +<p>And still the noble bridge remains, though the delicate +feet that rested on its foundation-stone have all tripped to +the shades. The bridge remains, and its five simple spans—the +central one of a hundred and fifty-two feet—make +a startling contrast with the nineteen little arches and huge +pedestals of the ancient structure. New London Bridge is<span class="pagenum">[54]</span> +more than a thousand feet long; its width is fifty-six feet; +its height, above low water, sixty feet. The central piers are +twenty-four feet thick, and the voussoirs of the central arch +four feet nine inches deep at the crown and nine feet at the +springing. The foundations lie twenty-nine feet, six inches +beneath low water; the exterior stones are all of granite; +while the interior mass of the fabric came half from Bramley +Fall and half from Derbyshire.</p> + +<p>More than seven years did London Bridge take a-building, +and it was opened in 1831. The total costs were something +under a million and a half of money—less than is needed for +a modern battleship.</p> + +<p>And already, before it is one hundred years old, there +comes a cry that London's heart finds this great artery too +small for the stream of life that flows for ever upon it. One +may hope, however, that when the necessity arrives, this +notable bridge will not be spoiled, but another created hard +by, if needs must, to fulfil the demands of traffic. Perhaps +a second tunnel may solve the problem, since metropolitan +man is turning so rapidly into a mole.</p> + +<p>From quarry to bridge is a far cry, yet he who has seen +both may dream sometimes among the dripping ferns, silent +cliff-faces and unruffled pools, of the city's roar and riot +and the ceaseless thunder of man's march from dawn till +even; while there—in the full throb and hurtle of London +town, swept this way and that amid the multitudes that +traverse Thames—it is pleasant to glimpse, through the reek +and storm, the cradle of this city-stained granite, lying silent +at peace in the far-away West Country.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="BAGTOR" id="BAGTOR"></a>BAGTOR</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_074f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_074t.jpg" width="400" height="292" alt="BAGTOR." title="BAGTOR."> +</a> +<span class="caption">BAGTOR.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[57]</span></p> + +<p>From the little southern salient of Bagtor at Dartmoor +edge, there falls a slope to the "in country" beneath. +Thereon Bagtor woods extend in many a shining plane—from +wind-swept hill-crowns of beech and fir, to dingles and snug +coombs in the valley bottom a thousand feet beneath.</p> + +<p>On a summer day one loiters in the dappled wood, for +here is welcome shade after miles of hot sunshine on the +heather above. Music of water splashes pleasantly through +the trees, where a streamlet falls from step to step; the last +of the bluebells still linger by the way, and above them great +beech-boles rise, all chequered with sun splashes. On the earth +dead leaves make a russet warmth, brighter by contrast with +the young green round about, and brilliant where sunlight +winnows through. There, in the direct beam, flash little flies, +which hang suspended upon the light like golden beads; while +through the glades, young fern is spread for pleasant resting-places. +Pigeons murmur aloft unseen, and many a grey-bird +and black-bird sing beside their hidden homes.</p> + +<p>At last the woodlands make an end, old orchards spread +in a clearing, and the sun, now turning west, has left the +apple trees, so that their blossom hangs cool and shaded on +the boughs. Behind—a background for the orchard—there +rise the walls of an ancient house, weathered and worn—a +mass of picturesque gables and tar-pitched roofs with red-brick<span class="pagenum">[58]</span> +chimneys ascending above them. No great dignity or +style marks this dwelling. It is a thing of patches and +additions. Here the sun still burns radiantly, makes the roof +golden, and flashes on the snow-white "fan-tails" that strut +up and down upon it.</p> + +<p>Great Scotch firs tower to the south, and the light burns +redly in their boughs against the blue sky above them. A +farmhouse nestles beside the old mansion under a roof of +ancient thatch, that falls low over the dawn-facing front, and +makes ragged eyelashes for the little windows. The face of +the farm is nearly hidden in green things, and a colour note of +mauve dominates the foliage where wistaria showers. There +are climbing roses too, a Japanese quince, and wallflowers and +columbines in the garden plot that subtends the dwelling. +Mossy walls enclose the garden, and beneath them spreads the +farmyard—a dust-dry place to-day wherein a litter of black +piglets gambol round their mother. Poultry cluck and scratch +everywhere, and a company of red calves cluster together in +one corner. A ploughman brings in his horses. From a byre +comes the purr of milk falling into a pail.</p> + +<p>On still evenings bell music trickles up to this holt of +ancient peace from a church tower three miles away; for we +stand in the parish of Ilsington on the shoulder of Dartmoor, +and the home of the silver "fan-tails" is Bagtor House—a +spot sanctified to all book-lovers. Here, a very mighty +personage first saw the light and began his pilgrimage; at +Bagtor was John Ford born, the first great decadent of English +letters, the tragedian whose sombre works belong to the sunset +time of the spacious days.<span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p> + +<p>In April of 1586 the infant John received baptism at +Ilsington church; while, sixteen years later, he was apprenticed +to his profession and became a member of the Middle +Temple. At eighteen John Ford, who wrote out of his own +desire and under an artist's compulsion only, first tempted +fortune; and over his earliest effort, <i>Fame's Memorial</i>, a +veil may be drawn; while of subsequent collaborations with +Webster and Decker, part perished unprinted and Mr. Warburton's +cook "used up" his comedies. Probably they are +no great loss, for a master with less sense of humour never +lived. But <i>The Witch of Edmonton</i> in Swinburne's judgment +embodies much of Ford's best, and his greatest plays all +endure.</p> + +<p>The man who wrote <i>The Lover's Melancholy</i>, <i>'Tis Pity +She's a Whore</i>, <i>The Broken Heart</i> and <i>Love's Sacrifice</i> was born +in this sylvan scene and his cradle rocked to the murmur of +wood doves. True he vanished early from Devonshire, and +though uncertain tradition declares his return, asserting that, +while still in prime and vigour, he laid by his gown and pen +and came back to Bagtor, to end his days where he was born, +and mellow his stormy heart before he died, no proof that +he did so exists. His life's history has been obliterated and +contemporary records of him have yet to appear.</p> + +<p>As an artist he must surely have loved horror for horror's +sake, and, too often, our terror arouses not that pity +to which tragedy should lift man's heart, but rather +generates disgust before his extraordinary plots and the +unattractive and inhuman characters which unravel them. +One salutes the intellectual power of him, but merely<span class="pagenum">[60]</span> +shudders, without being enchained or uplifted by the nature +of his themes. It has been well said of Ford that he +"abhorred vice and admired virtue; but ordinary vice or +modern virtue were to him as light wine to a dram drinker.... +Passion must be incestuous or adulterous; grief must be +something more than martyrdom, before he could make them +big enough to be seen."</p> + +<p>There is a little of Michaelangelo about Ford—something +excruciating, tortured. The tormented marble of the one +is reflected in the wracked and writhing characters of the +other; but whether Ford felt for the sorrow of earth as the +Florentine; whether he shared that mightier man's fiery +patriotism, enthusiasm of humanity and tragic griefs before +the suffering of mankind, we know not. One picture we have +of him from old time, and it offers a gloomy, aloof figure, little +caring to win friendship, or court understanding from his +fellows:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep in a dump John Ford was alone got,<br></span> +<span class="i0">With folded arms and melancholy hat.<br></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So depicted the gloomy artist might serve for tragedy's +self—arms crossed, brows drawn, eyes darkling under the +broad-brimmed beaver, with the plotter's night-black cloak +swept round his person. Or to a vision of Michaelangelo's "Il +Penseroso" we may exalt the poet, and see him in that +solemn and stately stone, finally at peace, his last word +written and the finger of silence upon his gloomy lips.</p> + +<p>Hazlitt finds John Ford finical and fastidious. He certainly +is so, and one often wonders how this mind and pen +should have welcomed such appalling subjects. He plays<span class="pagenum">[61]</span> +with edged tools and too well knows the use of poisoned +weapons, says Hazlitt; and the criticism is just in the opinion +of those who, with him, account it an artist's glory that he +shall not tamper with foul and "unfair" subjects, or sink +his genius to the kennel and gutter. That, however, is the +old-world, vanished attitude, for artists recognise no "unfair" +subjects to-day.</p> + +<p>Indeed, Ford can be not seldom beautiful and tender and +touched to emotion of pity; but by the time of Charles, the +golden galaxies were gone; their forces were spent; their +inspiration had perished; England, merry no more, began +to shiver in the shadow of coming puritan eclipse; and that +twilight seems to have cast by anticipation its penumbra +about Ford.</p> + +<p>There is in him little of the rollicking, superficial coarseness +of the Elizabethans; the stain is in web and woof. His great +moments are few; he is mostly ferocious, or absurdly sentimental, +and one confesses that the bulk of his best work, +judged against the highest of ancient or modern tragedy, +rings feebly with a note of too transparent artifice. He is +moved by intellectual interest rather than creative inspiration; +there is far more brain than heart in his writings.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he knew it and convinced himself, while still at +the noon of intelligence, that he was no creator. Perhaps he +abandoned art, through failure to satisfy his own ideals. At +any rate it would seem that he stopped writing at a time +when most men have still much to give.</p> + +<p>One would like at least to believe that he found in his +birthplace the distinguished privacy he desired and an abode<span class="pagenum">[62]</span> +of physical and mental peace. He may, indeed, have come +home again to Devon when his work was ended; he may have +passed the uncertain residue of life in seclusion with wife and +family at this estate of his ancestors; his dust may lie +unhonoured and unrecorded at Ilsington, as Herrick's amid +the green graves not far distant at Dean Prior.</p> + +<p>It is all guesswork, and the truth of John Ford's life, as +of his death, may be forever hidden. One sees him a notable, +silent, subtle man, prone to pessimism as a gift of heredity—a +man disappointed in his achievement, soured by inner +criticism and comparison with those who were greater than he.</p> + +<p>So, weary of cities and the company of wits and poets, he +came back to the country, that he might heal his disappointments +and soothe his pains. His life, to the unseeing eyes +around him, doubtless loomed prosperous and complete; to +himself, perchance, all was dust and ashes of thwarted ambition. +Again he roamed the woods where he had learned to +walk; won to the love of nature; underwent the thousand +new experiences and fancied discoveries of a townsman fresh +in the country; and, through these channels, came to contentment +and sunshine of mind, bright enough to pierce the +night of his thoughts and sweeten the dark currents of his +imagination. It may be so.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="OKEHAMPTON_CASTLE" id="OKEHAMPTON_CASTLE"></a>OKEHAMPTON CASTLE</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_084f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_084t.jpg" width="400" height="339" alt="OKEHAMPTON CASTLE." title="OKEHAMPTON CASTLE."> +</a> +<span class="caption">OKEHAMPTON CASTLE.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[65]</span></p> + +<p>A high wind roared over the tree-tops and sent the leaf +flying—blood-red from the cherry, russet from the oak, and +yellow from the elm. Rain and sunshine followed swiftly +upon each other, and the storms hurtled over the forest, +hissed in the river below and took fire through their +falling sheets, as the November sun scattered the rear-guard +of the rain and the cloud purple broke to blue. A great +wind struck the larches, where they misted in fading brightness +against the inner gloom of the woods, and at each buffet, +their needles were scattered like golden smoke. Only the +ash trees had lost all their leaves, for a starry sparkle of +foliage still clung to every other deciduous thing. The low +light, striking upon a knoll and falling on dripping surfaces of +stone and tree trunk, made a mighty flash and glitter of it, so +that the trees and the scattered masonry, that ascended in +crooked crags above their highest boughs, were lighted with +rare colour and blazed against the cloud masses now lumbering +storm-laden from the West.</p> + +<p>The mediæval ruin, that these woods had almost concealed +in summer, now loomed amid them well defined. Viewed from +aloft the ground plan of the castle might be distinctly traced, +and it needed no great knowledge to follow the architectural +design of it. The sockets of the pillars that sprang to a groined<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> +entrance still remained, and within, to right and left of +the courtyard, there towered the roofless walls of a state +chamber, or banqueting hall, on the one hand, a chapel, +oratory and guard-room on the other. The chapel had a +piscina in the southern wall; the main hall was remarkable +for its mighty chimney. Without, the ruins of the kitchens +were revealed, and they embraced an oven large enough to +bake bread for a village. Round about there gaped the +foundations of other apartments, and opened deep eyelet +windows in the thickness of the walls. The mass was so +linked up and knit together that of old it must have presented +one great congeries of chambers fortified by a circlet +of masonry; but now the keep towered on a separate hillock +to the south-west of the ruin, and stood alone. It faced +foursquare, dominated the valley, and presented a front +impregnable to all approach.</p> + +<p>This is the keep that Turner drew, and set behind it a +sky of mottled white and azure specially beloved by Ruskin; +but the wizard took large liberties with his subject, flung up +his castle on a lofty scarp, and from his vantage point at +stream-side beneath, suggested a nobler and a mightier ruin +than in reality exists. One may suppose that steps or secret +passages communicated with the keep, and that in Tudor +times no trees sprang to smother the little hill and obscure +the views of the distant approaches—from Dartmoor above +and the valleys beneath. Now they throng close, where oak +and ash cling to the sides of the hillock and circle the stones +that tower to ragged turrets in their midst.</p> + +<p>Far below bright Okement loops the mount with a brown<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> +girdle of foaming waters that threads the meadows; and +beyond, now dark, now wanly streaked with sunshine, ascends +Dartmoor to her border heights of Yes Tor and High Willhayes. +Westerly the land climbs again and the last fires of +autumn flicker over a forest.</p> + +<p>I saw the place happily between wild storms, at a +moment when the walls, warmed by a shaft of sunlight, +took on most delicious colour and, chiming with the gold +of the flying leaves, towered bright as a dream upon the +November blue.</p> + +<p>At the Conquest, Baldwin de Redvers received no fewer +than one hundred and eighty-one manors in Devon alone, +for William rewarded his strong men according to their +strength. We may take it, therefore, that this Baldwin de +Redvers, or Baldwin de Brionys, was a powerful lieutenant to +the Conqueror—a man of his hands and stout enough to hold +the West Country for his master. From his new possessions +the Baron chose Ochementone<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> for his perch; indeed, he +may be said to have created the township. With military +eye he marked a little spur of the hills that commanded +the passes of the Moor and the highway to Cornwall +and the Severn Sea; and there built his stronghold,—the sole +castle in Devon named in Domesday. But of this edifice no +stone now stands upon another. It has vanished into the +night of time past, and its squat, square, Norman keep scowls +down upon the valleys no more.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Okehampton" is a word which has no historic or philological +excuse.</p></div> + +<p>The present ruins belong to the Perpendicular period of +<span class="pagenum">[68]</span>later centuries, and until a recent date the second castle +threatened swiftly to pass after the first; but a new lease of +life has lately been given to these fragments; they have been +cleaned and excavated, the conquering ivy has been stripped +from their walls, and a certain measure of work accomplished +to weld and strengthen the crumbling masonry. Thus a +lengthened existence has been assured to the castle. "Time, +which antiquates antiquities," is challenged, and will need +reinforcement of many years wherein again to lift his scaling +ladders of ivy, loose his lightnings from the cloud, and marshal +his fighting legions of rain and tempest, frost and snow.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="THE_GORGE" id="THE_GORGE"></a>THE GORGE</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 399px;"> +<a href="images/i_092f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_092t.jpg" width="399" height="600" alt="THE GORGE." title="THE GORGE."> +</a> +<span class="caption">THE GORGE.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[71]</span></p> + +<p>Reflection swiftly reveals the significance of a river gorge, +for it is upon such a point that the interest of early man is +seen to centre. The shallow, too, attracts him, though its +value varies; it must ever be a doubtful thing, because the +shallow depends upon the moods of a river, and a ford is not +always fordable. But to the gorge no flood can reach. There +the river's banks are highest, the aperture between them most +trifling; there man from olden time has found the obvious +place of crossing and thrown his permanent bridge to span the +waterway. At a gorge is the natural point of passage, and +Pontifex, the bridge-builder, seeking that site, bends road to +river where his work may be most easily performed, most +securely founded. But while the bridge, its arch springing +from the live rock, is safe enough, the waters beneath are like +to be dangerous, and if a river is navigable at all, at her gorges, +where the restricted volume races and deepens, do the greatest +dangers lie. In Italy this fact gave birth to a tutelary genius, +or shadowy saint, whose special care was the raft-men of Arno +and other rivers. Their dangerous business took these <i>foderatore</i> +amid strange hazards, and one may imagine them on +semi-submerged timbers, swirling and crashing over many a +rocky rapid, in the throats of the hills, where twilight homed<span class="pagenum">[72]</span> +and death was ever ready to snatch them from return to +smooth waters and sunshine. So a new guardian arose to +meet these perils, and the boldest navigator lifted his thoughts +to Heaven and commended his soul to the keeping of San +Gorgone.</p> + +<p>Sublimity haunts these places; be they great as the Grand +Cañon of Arizona and the mountain rifts of Italy and France, +or trifling as this dimple on Devon's face of which I tell to-day, +they reveal similar characteristics and alike challenge the mind +of the intelligent being who may enter them.</p> + +<p>Here, under the roof of Devon, through the measures that +press up to the Dartmoor granite and are changed by the +vanished heat thereof, a little Dartmoor stream, in her age-long +battle with earth, has cut a right gorge, and so rendered +herself immortal. There came a region in her downward +progress when she found barriers of stone uplifted between +her and her goal; whereupon, without avoiding the encounter, +she cast herself boldly upon the work and set out to cleave +and to carve. Now this glyptic business, begun long before +the first palæolithic man trod earth, is far advanced; the river +has sunk a gulley of near two hundred feet through the solid +rock, and still pursues her way in the nether darkness, gnawing +ceaselessly at the stone and leaving the marks of her earlier +labours high up on either side of the present channel. There, +written on the dark Devonian rock, is a record of erosion set +down ages before human eye can have marked it; for fifty +feet above the present bed are clean-scooped pot-holes, round +and true, left by those prehistoric waters. But the sides of +the gorge are mostly broken and sloping; and upon the shelves<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> +of it dwell trees that fling their branches together with amazing +intricacies of foliage in summer-time and lace-like ramage in +winter. Now bright sunshine flashes down the pillars of +them and falls from ledge to ledge of each steep precipice; it +brightens great ivy banks and illuminates a thousand ferns, +that stud each little separate knoll in the great declivities, +or loll from clefts and crannies to break the purple shadows +with their fronds. The buckler and the shield fern leap +spritely where there is most light; the polypody loves the +limb of the oak; the hart's tongue haunts the coolest, darkest +crevices and hides the beauty of silvery mosses and filmy +ferns under cover of each crinkled leaf. And secret waters +twinkle out by many a hidden channel to them, bedewing their +foliage with grey moisture.</p> + +<p>On a cloudy day night never departs from the deepest +caverns of this gorge, and only the foam-light reveals each +polished rib and buttress. The air is full of mist from a waterfall +that thunders through the darkness, and chance of season +and weather seldom permit the westering sun to thrust +a red-gold shaft into the gloom. But that rare moment is +worth pilgrimage, for then the place awakens and a thousand +magic passages of brightness pierce the gorge to reveal its +secrets. In such moments shall be seen the glittering concavities, +the fair pillars and arches carved by the water, and +the hidden forms of delicate life that thrive upon them, +dwelling in darkness and drinking of the foam. Most notable +is a crimson fungus that clings to the dripping precipices like +a robe, so that they seem made of polished bloodstone, and +hint the horror of some tragedy in these loud shouting caves.<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> +Below the mass of the river, very dark under its creaming +veil of foam, shouts and hastens; above, there slope upwards +the cliff-masses to a mere ribbon of golden-green, high aloft +where the trees admit rare flashes from the azure above them. +Beech and ash spring horizontally from the precipices, and +great must be the bedded strength of the roots that hold their +trunks hanging there. With the dark forces of the gorge +dragging them downward and the sunshine drawing them +triumphantly up—between gravitation and light—they poise, +destruction beneath and life beckoning from above. They +nourish thus above their ultimate graves, since they, too, +must fall at last and join those dead tree skeletons whose +bones are glimmering amid the rocks below.</p> + +<p>Here light and darkness so cunningly blend that size is +forgotten, as always happens before a thing inherently fine. +The small gorge wrought of a little river grows great and +bulks large to imagination. The soaring sides of it, the shadow-loving +things beneath, the torture of the trees above, and the +living water, busy as of yore in levelling its ancient bed to the +sea, waken wonder at such conquest over these fire-baked rocks. +The heart goes out to the river and takes pleasure to follow +her from the darkness of her battle into the light again, where, +flower-crowned, she emerges between green banks that shelve +gently, hung with wood-rush and meadow-sweet, angelica and +golden saxifrage. Here through a great canopy of translucent +foliage shines the noon sunlight, celebrating peace. Into the +river, where she spreads upon a smooth pool, and trout dart +shadowy through the crystal, the brightness burns, until the +stream bed sparkles with amber and agate and flashes up in<span class="pagenum">[75]</span> +sweet reflections beneath each brier and arched fern-frond +bending at the brink.</p> + +<p>Nor does the rivulet lack correspondence with greater +streams in its human relation; she is complete in every +particular, for man has found her also; and dimly seen, amid +the very tree-tops, where the gorge opens, and great rocks +come kissing close, an arch of stone carries his little road +from hamlet to hamlet.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="THE_GLEN" id="THE_GLEN"></a>THE GLEN</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 471px;"> +<a href="images/i_102f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_102t.jpg" width="471" height="600" alt="THE GLEN." title="THE GLEN."> +</a> +<span class="caption">THE GLEN.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[79]</span></p> + +<p>There is a glen above West Dart whence a lesser stream +after brief journeying comes down to join the river. By many +reaches, broken with little falls, the waters descend upon the +glen from the Moor; but barriers of granite first confront +them, and before the lands break up and hollow, a mass of +boulders, piled in splendid disorder and crowned with willow +and rowan, crosses the pathway of the torrent. Therefore the +little river divides and leaps and tumbles foaming over the +mossy granite, or creeps beneath the boulders by invisible ways. +Into fingers and tresses the running waters dislimn, and then, +that great obstacle passed, their hundred rillets run together +again and go on their way with music. By a descent that +becomes swiftly steeper, the burn falls upon fresh rocks, is +led into fresh channels and broken to the right and left where +mossy islets stand knee-deep in fern and bilberry. Here +spring up the beginnings of the wood, for the glen is full of +trees. Beech and alder, with scrub of dwarf willow at their +feet, cluster on the islets and climb the deepening valley +westward; but in the glen stand aged trees, and on the crest +of the slope haggard spruce firs still fight for life and mark, +in their twisted and decaying timbers and perishing boughs, +the torment of the unsleeping wind. Great is the contrast +between these stricken ruins with death in their high tops,<span class="pagenum">[80]</span> +and the sylva beneath sheltered by the granite hill. There +beech and pine are prosperous and sleek compared with the +unhappy, time-foundered wights above them; but if the +spruces perish, they rule. The lesser things are at their feet +and the sublimity of their struggle—their mournful but +magnificent protest against destiny—makes one ignore the +sequestered woodland, where there is neither battle nor victory, +but comfortable, ignoble shelter and repose. The river kisses +the feet of these happy nonentities; they make many a stately +arch and pillar along the water; in spring the pigeon and the +storm-thrush nest among their branches; and they gleam with +newly-opened foliage and shower their silky shards upon the +earth; in autumn they fling a harvest of sweet beech mast +around their feet. The seed germinates and thousands of +cotyledon leaves appear like fairy umbrellas, from the waste +of the dead leaves. The larger number of these seedlings +perish, but some survive to take their places in fulness of +time.</p> + +<p>By falls and rapids, by flashing stickles and reaches +of stillness, the little river sinks to the heart of the glen; +but first there is a water-meadow under the hills where an old +clapper-bridge flings its rough span from side to side. This is +of ancient date and has been more than once restored against +the ravages of flood since pack-horses tramped that way in +Tudor times. Here the streamlet rests awhile before plunging +down the steeps beyond and entering the true glen—a place of +shelving banks and many trees.</p> + +<p>In summer the dingle is a golden-green vision of tender +light that filters through the beeches. Here and there a<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> +sungleam, escaping the net of the leaf, wins down to fall on +mossy boulder and bole, or plunge its shaft of brightness +into a dark pool. Then the amber beam quivers through +the crystal to paint each pebble at the bottom and reveal +the dim, swift shades of the trout, that dart through it +from darkness back to darkness again. In autumn the +freshets come and the winds awaken until a storm of foliage +hurtles through the glen, now pattering with shrill whispers +from above and taking the water gently; now whirling in +mad myriads, swirling and eddying, driven hither and thither +by storm until they bank upon some hillock, find harbour +among holes and the elbows of great roots, or plunge down into +the turmoil of the stream. The ways of the falling leaf +are manifold, and as the rock delays the river, so the trees, +with trunk and bough, arrest the flying foliage, bar its hurrying +volume and deflect its tide. In winter the glen is good, +for then a man may escape the north wind here and, finding +some snug holt among the river rocks, mark the beauty +about him while snow begins to touch the tree-tops and the +boughs are sighing. Then can be contrasted the purple masses +of sodden leaves with the splendour of the mosses among +which they lie; for now the minor vegetation gleams at this, +its hour of prime. It sheets every bank in a silver-green +fabric fretted with liquid jewels or ice diamonds; it builds +plump knobs and cushions on the granite, and some of the +mosses, now in fruit, brush their lustrous green with a wash +of orange or crimson, where tiny filaments rise densely to bear +the seed. Here, also, dwelling among them, flourishes that +treasure of such secret nooks by stream-side, the filmy fern,<span class="pagenum">[82]</span> +with transparent green vesture pressed to the moisture-laden +rocks.</p> + +<p>Man's handiwork is also manifested here; not only in +the felled trees and the clapper-bridge, but uniquely and +delightfully; for where the river quickens over a granite +apron and hastens in a torrent of foam away, the rocks +have tongues and speak. He who planted this grove and +added beauty to a spot already beautiful, was followed by +his son, who caused to be carved inscriptions on the boulders. +You may trace them through the moss, or lichen, where the +records, grown dim after nearly a hundred years, still stand. +It was a minister of the Church who amused himself after this +fashion; but in no religious spirit did he compose; and the +scattered poetry has a pleasant, pagan ring about it proper +to this haunt of Pan.</p> + +<p>Upon one great rock in the open, with its grey face to the +south-west and its feet deeply bedded in grass and sand, you +shall with care decipher these words:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Poesy! fair Fancy's child!<br></span> +<span class="i0">Thy smiles imparadise the wild.<br></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Beside the boulder a willow stands, its finials budding with +silver; upon the north-western face of the stone is another +inscription whose legend startles a wayfarer on beholding the +bulk of the huge mass. "This stone was removed by a +flood 17—."</p> + +<p>On the islets and by the pathway below, sharp eyes may +discover other inscribed stones, and upon one island, which +the bygone poet called "The Isle of Mona," there still exist<span class="pagenum">[83]</span> +inscriptions in "Bardic characters." These he derived from +the <i>Celtic Researches</i> of Davies. Furnished with the +English letters corresponding to these symbols, one may, if +sufficiently curious, translate each distich as one finds it. +Elsewhere, beside the glen path, a sharp-eyed, little lover of +Nature, tore the coat of moss from another phrase that beat +us both as we hunted through the early dusk:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Naiads! venera<br></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This was the complete passage, and we puzzled not a little to +solve its meaning. On dipping into the past, however, I +discovered that the inscription was intended to have read as +follows:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Naiads! venerate the swain<br></span> +<span class="i0">Who joined the Dryads to your train.<br></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The rhyme was designed to honour the poet's father, who set +the forest here; but accident must have stayed the stone-cutter's +hand and left the distich incomplete.</p> + +<p>And now a sudden flash of red aloft above the tree-tops +told that the sun was setting. Night thickened quickly, +though the lamp of a great red snow-cloud still hung above the +glen long after I had left it. Beneath, the mass of the beech +wood took on wonderful colour and the streamlet, emerging +into meadows, flashed back the last glow of the sky.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="A_DEVON_CROSS" id="A_DEVON_CROSS"></a>A DEVON CROSS</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_112f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_112t.jpg" width="400" height="313" alt="A DEVON CROSS." title="A DEVON CROSS."> +</a> +<span class="caption">A DEVON CROSS.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[87]</span></p> + +<p>There are two orders of ancient human monuments on +Dartmoor—the prehistoric evidences of man's earliest occupation +and the mediæval remains that date from Tudor times, +or earlier. The Neolith has left his cairns and pounds and hut +circles, where once his lodges clustered upon the hills. The +other memorials are of a different character and chiefly mark +the time of the stannators, when alluvial tin abounded and +the Moor supported a larger population than it does to-day. +Ruins of the smelting houses and the piled debris of old tin-streaming +works may be seen on every hand, and the moulds +into which molten tin was poured still lie in hollows and ruins +half hidden by the herbage. Here also, scattered irregularly, +the Christian symbol occurs, on wild heaths and lonely hillsides, +to mark some sacred place, indicate an ancient path, or +guide the wayfaring monk and friar of old on their journey +by the Abbot's Way.</p> + +<p>Of these the most notable is that venerable fragment known +as Siward's Cross—a place of pilgrimage these many years.</p> + +<p>Now, on this day of March, snow-clouds swept the desert +intermittently with their grey veils and often blotted every +landmark. At such times one sought the little hillocks thrown +up by vanished men and hid in some hollow of the tin-streamers' +digging to escape the pelt of the snow and avoid the buffet<span class="pagenum">[88]</span> +of the squall that brought it. Then the sun broke up +the welter of hurrying grey and for a time the wind lulled and +the brief white shroud of the snow melted, save where it had +banked against some obstacle.</p> + +<p>The lonely hillock where stands Siward's Cross, or "Nun's +Cross," as Moormen call it, lies at a point a little above +the western end of Fox Tor Mire. The land slopes gently to +it and from it; the great hills roll round about. To the east +a far distance opens very blue after the last snow has fallen; +to the south tower the featureless ridges of Cator's Beam with +the twin turrets of Fox Tor on their proper mount beneath +them. The beginnings of the famous mire are at hand—a +region of shattered peat-hags and morasses—where, torn to +pieces, the earth gapes in ruins and a thousand watercourses +riddle it. All is dark and sere at this season, for the +dead grasses make the peat blacker by contrast. It is a +chaos of rent and riven earth ploughed and tunnelled by bogs +and waterways; while beyond this savage wilderness the +planes of the hills wind round in a semicircle and hem the +cradle of the great marshes below with firm ground and good +"strolls" for cattle, when spring shall send them in their +thousands to the grazing lands of the Moor again.</p> + +<p>The sky shone blue by the time I reached the old cross +and weak sunlight brightened its familiar face. The relic +stands seven feet high, and now it held a vanishing patch of +snow on each stumpy arm. Its weathered front had made +a home for flat and clinging lichens, grey as the granite for +the most part, yet warming to a pale gold sometimes. Once +the cross was broken and thrown in two pieces on the heath;<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> +but the wall-builders spared it, for the monument had long +been famous. Antiquarian interest existed for the old relic, +and it was mended with clamps of iron, and lifted upon a +boulder to occupy again its ancient site.</p> + +<p>For many a year experts puzzled to learn the meaning of +the inscriptions upon its face, and various conjectures concerning +them had their day; but it was left for our first Dartmoor +authority, William Crossing, who has said the last word +on these remains, to decipher the worn inscription and indicate +its significance. He finds the word "Siward," or "Syward," +on the eastern side, and the word "Boc-lond," for "Buckland," +on the other, set in two lines under the incised cross that +distinguishes the western face of the monument.</p> + +<p>"Siward's Cross" is mentioned in the Perambulation of +1240. "It is named," says Mr. Crossing, "in a deed of +Amicia, Countess of Devon, confirming the grant of certain +lands for building and supporting the Abbey of Buckland, +among which were the manors of Buckland, Bickleigh and +Walkhampton. The latter manor abuts on Dartmoor Forest, +and the boundary line, which Siward's Cross marks at one of +the points, is drawn from Mistor to the Plym. The cross, +therefore, in addition to being considered a forest boundary +mark, also became one to the lands of Buckland Abbey, and +I am convinced that the letters on it which have been so +variously interpreted simply represent the word 'Bocland.' +The name, as already stated, is engraved on the western +face of the cross—the side on which the monks' possessions +lay."</p> + +<p>Elsewhere he observes that Siward's Cross, "standing as<span class="pagenum">[90]</span> +it does on the line of the Abbot's Way, would seem not improbably +to have been set up by the monks of Tavistock as +a mark to point out the direction of the track across the Moor; +and were it not for the fact that it has been supposed to have +obtained its name from Siward, Earl of Northumberland, who, +it is said, held property near this part of the Moor in the +Confessor's reign, I should have no hesitation in believing such +to be the case."</p> + +<p>No matter who first lifted it, still it stands—the largest +cross on Dartmoor—like a sentinel to guard the path that +extended between the religious houses of Plympton, Buckland +and Tavistock. And other crosses there are beyond the Mire, +where an old road descended over Ter Hill. But the Abbot's +Way is tramped no more, and the princes of the Church, with +their men-at-arms and their mules and pack-horses, have +passed into forgotten time. Few now but the antiquary and +holiday-maker wander to Siward's Cross; or the fox-hunter +gallops past it; or the folk, when they tramp to the heights +for purple harvest of "hurts" in summer-time. The stone +that won the blessings of pious men, only comforts a heifer +to-day; she rubs her side against it and leaves a strand of +her red hair caught in the lichens.</p> + +<p>The snow began to fall more heavily and the wind increased. +Therefore I turned north and left that local sanctity from +olden time, well pleased to have seen it once again in the stern +theatre of winter. It soon shrank to a grey smudge on the +waste; then snow-wreaths whirled their arms about it and +the emblem vanished.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="COOMBE" id="COOMBE"></a>COOMBE</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i_120f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_120t.jpg" width="400" height="299" alt="COOMBE." title="COOMBE."> +</a> +<span class="caption">COOMBE.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[93]</span></p> + +<p>Life comes laden still with good days that whisper of +romance, when in some haunt of old legend, our feet loiter for +a little before we pass forward again. I indeed seek these +places, and confess an incurable affection for romance in my +thoughts if not my deeds. I would not banish her from art, +or life; and though most artists of to-day will have none of +her, spurn romantic and classic alike, and take only realism +to their bosoms; yet who shall declare that realism is the last +word, or that reality belongs to her drab categories alone?</p> + +<p>"There is no 'reality' for us—nor for you either, ye sober +ones, and we are far from being so alien to one another as ye +suppose, and perhaps our goodwill to get beyond drunkenness +is just as respectable as your belief that ye are altogether +<i>incapable</i> of drunkenness."</p> + +<p>A return to romance most surely awaits literature, when +our artists have digested the new conditions and discovered +the magic and mystery that belong to newly created things—whether +Nature or her human child has made them; but for +the moment, those changes that to-day build revolution, stone +on stone, demand great seers to record the romantic splendour +of their promise, sing justly of all that science is doing, write +the epic of our widening view and show man leading the +lightning chained in his latest triumph. For us, who cannot +measure such visions, there remains Nature—the incurable<span class="pagenum">[94]</span> +romantic—who retains her early methods, loves the sword better +than the pruning-hook, and still sometimes strikes jealously +at her sophisticated child, who has learned to substitute a +thousand wants for the simple needs that she could gratify.</p> + +<p>At Coombe, on the coast of North Cornwall, there +yet lies a nest of old romance, wherein move, for dream-loving +folk, the shadows of an old-time tale. Nature reigns +unchanged in the valley and her processions and pageants +keep their punctual time and place; but once a story-teller +came hither, and the direct, genial art of a brave spirit found +inspiration here. From this secluded theatre sprang <i>Westward +Ho!</i> and none denies willing tribute to him who made that +book.</p> + +<p>Seen on this stormy December day with a north-wester +raging off the sea and the wind turning the forest music to +"a hurricane of harps," Coombe Valley lives with music and +movement. Far away in the gap eastward rises a blue mound +with Kilkhampton Church-tower perched thereon, and thence, +by winding woods, the way opens to the historic mill. Full +of tender colour are the tree-clad hills—a robe of grey and +amber and amethyst, jewelled here and there, where the last +of the leaves still hang. Wind-beaten oak and larch, beech +and ash twine their arms together and make a great commotion +where the woven texture of their boughs is swaying +and bending. Their yield and swing challenge the grey daylight, +and it plays upon them and flings a tracery of swift +brightness over the forest. The light is never still, but +trembles upon the transparent woods, so that every movement +of their great mass wins an answering movement from the<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> +illumination that reveals them. Beneath, under the tremulous +curtain and visible through its throbbing, lies the earth's +bosom, all brown with fallen leaves. It swells firm and solid +under restless branch and bough, and listens to the great +song of the trees. Sometimes a sunburst from the sky touches +the woodland, and the ramage aloft sparkles like a gauze of +silver over the russet and gold beneath.</p> + +<p>In the heart of the valley there runs a river, and, freed +from her work, the mill-stream leaps to join it. The mill-wheel +thunders, as it did when little Rose Salterne set stout +hearts beating and dreamed dreams, wherein no sorrow homed +or horror whispered. But time has not forgotten Coombe +Mill, and, to one who may love flowers, the evidence of progress +chiefly lies among them. There is a garden here and many a +plant, that had not yet faced the buffets of an English winter +when Kingsley's heroine tended her clove-pinks and violets, +now thrives contented in this little garth.</p> + +<p>Beside the mill-pond, flogged by the December storm, +Kaffir lilies wave their crimson and the red fuchsia flourishes. +A bush of golden eleagnus is happy, and a shrubby speedwell +thrives beside it; honeysuckles climb to the thatch of the +white-washed homestead; a rambler rose hangs out its last +blossoms; and a yellow jasmine also blooms upon the wall. +Marigolds and lavender and blue periwinkles trail together in +a bright wreath against the darkness of the water-wheel; +there are stocks and Michaelmas daisies, too, with the silver +discs of honesty and the fading green of tamarisk.</p> + +<p>Many suchlike things flourish in this cradle of low hills, +for winter is a light matter here, and great cold never comes<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> +to them. They push forth and creep into the lanes and +hedges; they find the water-meadows and love the shelter of +the apple trees and the brink of the stream.</p> + +<p>Beside the mill there towers a great ivy-tod in fruit, and +rises the weathered mill-house, stoutly built to bear the strain +within. Once granite mill-wheels ground the corn, but now +their day is over and they repose, flower crowned, in the hedges +outside. The eternal splashing of water has painted a dark +stain here, and ferns have found foothold. One great hart's +tongue lolls fifty wet green leaves out from the gloom of +the wheel-chamber.</p> + +<p>All is movement and bustle; the mill-stream races away +to the river, and the river to the sea. The tree-tops bend and +cry; the clouds tell of the gale overhead, now thinning to let +the sunshine out, now darkening under a sudden squall and +dropping a hurtle of hail.</p> + +<p>From the mill-pool to the west opened another vision of +meadows with a little grey bridge in the midst of them. Hither +winds the stream, trout in every hover, and the brown hills rise +on either side, barren and storm-beaten. Then, at the mouth +of the land between them, a great welter of white foam fills +the gap, for the storm has beaten the sea mad, and the roar +of it ascends in unbroken thunder over the meadows. Behind +the meeting-place of land and ocean, there roll the lashed +and stricken seas, all dim and grey; and their herds are +brightened with sunshine or darkened by cloud, as the wind +heaves them to shore. But there is no horizon from which +we can trace them. They emerge wildly out of the flying +scud of cloud that presses down upon the waters.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="OLD_DELABOLE" id="OLD_DELABOLE"></a>OLD DELABOLE</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<a href="images/i_128f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_128t.jpg" width="386" height="600" alt="OLD DELABOLE." title="OLD DELABOLE."> +</a> +<span class="caption">OLD DELABOLE.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[99]</span></p> + +<p>Where low and treeless hills roll out to the cliffs, and the +gulls cry their sea message over farms and fields, a mighty +mouth opens upon the midst of the land and gapes five hundred +feet into the earth. In shape of a crater it yawns, and its many-coloured +cliffs slope from the surface inwards. The great cup is +chased and jewelled. Round it run many galleries, some deserted, +some alive with workers. Like threads of light they circle +it, now opening upon the sides of the rounded cliffs, now suspended +in air under perpendicular precipices. In the midst is +the quarter-mile incline that descends to the heart of the cup +and connects the works above with the works below; and +elsewhere are other gentle acclivities, where moraines of fallen +stone ooze out in great cones beneath the cliffs. Under them +stand square black objects, dwarfed to the size of match-boxes, +which wrestle with this huge accumulation of over-burden. +Steam puffs from the machines; they thrust their scoops into +the fallen mass; at each dig they pick up a ton and a half of +rubbish and then deposit it in a trolley that waits for the load +hard by. A network of tram-lines branches every way in the +bottom of the cup, and extends its fingers to the points of +attack; and where they end—at smudges of silver-grey scattered +about the bottom of the quarry—there creep little atoms, like +mites on a cheese.<span class="pagenum">[100]</span></p> + +<p>Centuries have bedecked and adorned the sides of this +stupendous pit; and while naked sheets and planes of colour, +the work of recent years, still gleam starkly, all innocent of +blade and leaf, elsewhere in deserted galleries and among +cliff-faces torn bare by vanished generations of men, green +things have made their home and flourished with luxuriance, +to the eternal drip of surface water. Ferns and foxgloves and +a thousand lesser plants thrive in niches and crevices of the +stone; and there is a splendid passage of flame, where the +mimulus has found its way by some rivulet into the quarry, +and sheets a precipice with gold.</p> + +<p>By steps and scarps the sides fall, narrowing always +to the bottom; but the cliff planes are huge enough for +sunshine and shadow to paint wonderful pictures upon them +and find the colours—the olive and blue and mossy green, +or the great splashes and patches of rose and russet that make +harmony there. They melt together brokenly; and sometimes +they are fretted with darkness and spotted with caverns, or +mottled and zigzagged by rusty percolations of iron.</p> + +<p>One noble cliff falls sheer five hundred feet to a wilderness +of rock, and across its huge front there hang aerial threads, like +gossamers, while at its crown black wheels and chimneys tower +into the sky. Below, upon the bluff of a crag, there turns +a wheel, and a great pump, with intermittent jolt and grunt, +sucks the water from the bottom of the quarry and sends it to +tanks up aloft. This machine, with its network of arms and +wheels, hangs very black on the cliff-side, and a note of black +is also carried into the midst of the grey and rosy cliff-faces +by little wheels that hang from the gossamers and tiny threads<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> +depending from them. They drop to the mites in the silver-grey +cheese beneath, and from time to time masses and wedges +of nearly two tons weight are hoisted upward and float through +the air to the surface, like thistle-down.</p> + +<p>The quarry is full of noises—the clank of the pumps, the +rattle of the trucks, the hiss of pneumatic and steam drills, the +clink of tampers and the rumble and rattle of the great rocks +dislodged by crowbars from the cliffs. Men shout, too, and +their voices are as the drone of little gnats; but sometimes, at +the hour of blasting, an immense volume of sound is liberated, +and the thunder of the explosion crashes round and round +the cup and wakes a war of echoes thrown from cliff to cliff.</p> + +<p>Once there were dwellings within the cup; but the needs +of the quarry caused their destruction, and now but two +cottages remain. The ragged cliff-edges creep towards them, +and they will soon vanish, after standing for a hundred years.</p> + +<p>Everywhere the precious stone, now silver-green, now +silver-grey, is being dragged up the great incline, or wafted +through air to the workers above; and once aloft, another army +of men and boys set to work upon it and split and hack and chop +and square it into usefulness. On all sides the midgets are +burrowing below and wrestling with the stone above; thousands +of tons leave the works weekly, and yet such is the immensity +of the mass, that the sides of the quarry seem hardly changed +from year to year. For more than three hundred and fifty +years has man delved at Old Delabole. Elizabethans worked +its rare slate; and since their time, labouring ceaselessly, we +have scratched out this stupendous hole and covered our +habitations therefrom, through the length and breadth of the<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> +United Kingdom. Cathedrals and cottages alike send to +Delabole for their slates; there are extant buildings with roofs +two hundred years old, that show no crack or flaw; while +more ancient than the stones that cover man's home must be +those that mark his grave, and Delabole slates in churchyards, +or on church walls, might doubtless be found dating from +Tudor times.</p> + +<p>Five hundred men and boys are employed at Old Delabole, +and their homes cluster in the little village without the works. +Their type is Celtic, but many very blonde, high-coloured men +labour here. All are polite, easy, and kindly; all appear to +find their work interesting and take pleasure in explaining its +nature to those who may be interested. The slate fills countless +uses besides that of roofing, and the methods of cleaving and +cutting it cannot easily be described. Steam plays its part, +and the masses are reduced to manageable size by steel saws +which slip swiftly through them; then workmen tackle the imperishable +stuff, and with chisel and mallet split the sections +thinner and thinner. It comes away wonderfully true, and a +mass of stone gives off flake after flake until the solid rock has +turned into a pile of dark grey slates, clean and bright of cleavage +and ready for the roof. Green-grey or "abbey-grey" is the +mass of the quarry output; but a generous production of +"green" is also claimed. This fine stuff runs in certain veins, +and offers a tone very beautiful and pleasant to the eye. Lastly, +there are the reds—jewels among slates—that shine with russet +and purple. This stone is rare, and can only be quarried in small +quantities. All varieties have the slightest porosity, and take +their places among the most distinguished slates in the world.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="TINTAGEL" id="TINTAGEL"></a>TINTAGEL</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum">[105]</span></p> + +<p>Ragged curtains of castellated stone climb up the northern +side of a promontory and stretch their worn and fretted grey +across the sea and sky. They are pierced with a Norman door, +and beyond them there spreads a blue sea to the horizon; above +it shines a summer sky, against whose blue and silver the ruin +sparkles brightly. Beneath, a little bay opens, and the dark +cliffs about it are fringed with foam; while beyond, "by +Bude and Bos," the grand coastline is flung out hugely, cliff +on cliff and ness on ness, until Hartland lies like a cloud on the +sea and little Lundy peeps above the waters. Direct sunshine +penetrates the haze from point to point, now bringing this +headland out from among its neighbours, now accentuating +the rocky islands, or flashing on some sea-bird's wing.</p> + +<p>Shadow, too, plays its own sleight; the cliff that was sun-kissed +fades and glooms, while the scarps and planes before +shaded, shine out again and spread their splendour along the +sea. Light and darkness race over the waves also, and now +the fringes of foam flash far off in the sunshine and streak the +distant bases of earth; now they are no more seen, when the +cloud shadows dim their whiteness and spread purple on the +blue.</p> + +<p>A ewe and her lamb come through the gateway in the castle +wall. They share the green slopes with me and browse along +together. Overhead the gulls glide and a robber gull chases a<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> +jackdaw, who carries a lump of bread or fat in his beak. The +gull presses hard upon the smaller bird, and Jack at last, after +many a turn and twist, drops his treasure. Whereupon the +gull dives downward and catches it in mid-air before it has +fallen a dozen yards.</p> + +<p>The flora on these crags is interesting, though of little +diversity. Familiar grasses there are, with plantain and +sheep's sorrel, the silene and cushion pink, the pennywort and +blue jasione, the lotus and eye-bright; but unsleeping winds +from the west affect them as altitude dwarfs the alpines, and +these things, though perfect and healthy and fair to see, +are reduced to exquisite miniatures, where they nestle in the +crannies of the rocks and flash their pink and white, or blue and +gold, against the grey and orange lichens that wash the stones +with colour and climb the ruin in the midst.</p> + +<p>In sheltered nooks the foxglove nods, but he, too, is dwarfed, +yet seems to win a solid splendour of bells and intensity of tint +from his environment.</p> + +<p>Other castle fragments there are—scattered here and on +the neighbour cliff to the east; but they are of small account—no +more than the stumps of vanished ramparts and walls. +Even so, they stood before any word was printed concerning +them, or pictures made. An ancient etching of more than +two hundred years old shows that their fragments were then +as now, and only doubtful tradition furnishes the historian with +any data.</p> + +<p>But the castle is perched on a noble crag, whose strata of +marble and slate and silver quartz slope from east to west +downward until they round into sea-worn bosses and dip under<span class="pagenum">[107]</span> +the blue. The story of gigantic upheavals is written here, +and the weathered rocks are cleft and serrated and full of +wonderful convolutions for dawn and dusk to play upon. Here +more wild flowers find foothold, and the wild bird makes her +home. The cliffs are crested with samphire, and the white +umbels of the carrot; they are brushed with the pale lemon +of anthyllis, and the starry whiteness of the campion; they +are honeycombed beneath by caverns, where the sea growls +on calm days and thunders in time of storm.</p> + +<p>Westward of the mount, guarding the only spot where boat +can land from these perilous waters, a fragment of the ruin +still holds up above the little bay, within bow-shot of any +adventurous bark that would brave a landing.</p> + +<p>Here is all that is left of the last castle on this famous +headland. Of the so-called "Arthurian" localities, the most +interesting and richest in tradition is that of North Cornwall, +and at its centre lie these ancient strongholds. In addition to +the Castle of Tintagel one finds King Arthur's Hall and Hunting +Seat, his bed and his cups and saucers, his tomb and his grave.</p> + +<p>It is a long and intricate story, and none may say what +fragment of reality homes behind the accumulated masses of +myth and legend. With the bards of the sixth century and +those that followed them we find the English beginnings of +Arthur and his celebration as a first-class fighting man. Then +it would seem he disappeared for a while, and takes no place, +either in history or romance, until the ninth century. In 858, +however, one Nennius, a Briton, made a history of the hero, +some three centuries after his supposed death in 542. The +"magnanimous Arthur" of Nennius fought against the Saxons,<span class="pagenum">[108]</span> +and, amid many more noble than himself, was twelve times +chosen commander of his race. The Britons, we learn, conquered +as often as he led them to war; and in his final and +mightiest battle—that of Badon Hill—we are to believe that +940 of the enemy fell by Arthur's hand alone—a Homeric +achievement, unassisted save by the watching Lord. Thereafter +his activities ranged over other of the Arthurian theatres +and campaigns before he died at Camlan.</p> + +<p>But alas for song! From Geoffrey of Monmouth to Tennyson, +that last prodigious battle on the Camel has been the joy +of poetry, and the mighty adventure between Arthur and +Mordred has been told and retold a thousand times; yet if those +warriors ever did meet, it was certainly in Scotland, and not +Cornwall, that the encounter took place. Camlan is Camelon +in the Valley of the Forth, and here a tolerably safe tradition +tells that the King of the Picts, with his Scots and Saxons, +defeated the Britons and slew their King.</p> + +<p>Leland reported to Henry VII. that "This castle hath been +a marvellous strong fortress and almost <i>situ in loco</i> inexpugnabile, +especially from the dungeon that is on a great and terrabil +crag environed with the se, but having a drawbridge from the +residue of the castel on to it. Shepe now feed within the +dungeon."</p> + +<p>That Arthur was begotten at Tintagel we may please to +believe; but that he died far from the land of his birth seems +sure.</p> + +<p>As for the existing ruin, it springs from that of the castle +which saw the meeting of Arthur's parents, Uther Pendragon +and the fair Igraine; but the original British building has long<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> +since vanished, and the present remains, dating from the +Norman Conquest, did not rise until six hundred years later +than the hero's death. An old Cornish tradition declares that +Arthur's mighty spirit passed into a Cornish chough, and in the +guise of that beautiful crow with the scarlet beak, still haunts +the ruins of his birthplace.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="A_CORNISH_CROSS" id="A_CORNISH_CROSS"></a>A CORNISH CROSS</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"> +<a href="images/i_144f.jpg"> + <img src="images/i_144t.jpg" width="375" height="600" alt="A CORNISH CROSS." title="A CORNISH CROSS."> +</a> +<span class="caption">A CORNISH CROSS.</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[113]</span></p> + +<p>Kerning corn waved to the walls of the little churchyard +and spread a golden foreground for the squat grey mass of the +church that rose behind it. The building stood out brightly, +ringed with oak and sycamore, and the turrets of the tower +barely surmounted the foliage wrapped about it. Rayed in +summer green the trees encircled church and burying-ground +with shade so dense that the sun could scarce throw a gleam +upon the graves. They lay close and girdled the building +with mounds of grass and slabs of slate and marble. The +dripping of the trees had stained the stones and cushions of +moss flourished upon them. Here was the life of the hamlet +written in customary records of triumphant age, failures +of youth, death of children—all huddled together with that +implicit pathos of dates that every churchyard holds.</p> + +<p>But more ancient than any recorded grave, more venerable +than the church itself, a granite cross ascended among the +tombs. Centuries had weathered the stone so that every angle +of its rounded head and four-sided shaft was softened. Time +had wrought on the granite mass, as well as man, and fingering +the relic through the ages, had blurred every line of the form, +set grey lichens on the little head of the Christ that hung +there and splashed the shaft with living russet and silver +and jade-green. The old cross rose nine feet high, its simple<span class="pagenum">[114]</span> +form clothed in a harmony of colours beautiful and delicate. +The arms were filled with a carved figure of primitive type +and a carmine vegetation washed the rough surfaces and +outlined the human shape set in its small tunic stiffly there. +Green moss covered the head of the cross and incised patterns +decorated its sides to within a foot or two of the grass by +a churchyard path from which it sprang.</p> + +<p>The design was of great distinction and I stood before one +of the finest monuments in Cornwall. On the north side ran +a zigzag; while to the south a more elaborate key-pattern was +struck into the stone—a design of triangles enfolding each other. +The back held the outline of a square filled with a cross and +a shut semicircle carved beneath; while upon the face, under +the head which contained the figure, there occurred another +square with a cross. The shaft upon this side was adorned +with the outline of a tall jug, or ewer, from which sprang the +conventional symbol for a lily flower.</p> + +<p>There was another detail upon the southern side which +seemed to lift this aged stone back into the mists of a past +still more remote, for there, just above the ground, might be +read the fragment of an inscription in debased Latin capitals. +They were no longer decipherable save for the solitary word +"FILIUS" which was easily to be distinguished, and this fragment +of an obliterated inscription spoke concerning a period +earlier by centuries than the carving and decoration. Indeed +it indicated that the memorial was a palimpsest—a pre-Christian +pillar-stone transformed at a later age to its present significance.</p> + +<p>There are above three hundred old crosses still standing +in Cornwall, and not a few of these, dating from time<span class="pagenum">[115]</span> +beyond the Roman period, originally marked the burying-places +of the pagan dead. At a later period, long after +their original erection, they were mutilated. But the greater +number of these grand stones belong to Christianity, and by +their varied decorations the age of them may approximately +be learned.</p> + +<p>Some bear the <i>Chi Rho</i> monogram, which stands for the +first two letters of the Greek "Christos," and these belong to +the seventh century; but the more numerous appear to date +from that later period when the sacred figure of the Christ +began to be substituted in religious architecture for the symbolic +lamb that always preceded it. The Eastern Church authorised +this innovation, after <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 683, and pronounced that "The +Lamb of Christ, our Lord, be set up in human shape on images +henceforth, instead of the Lamb formerly used." The earliest +type is not particularly human, however, and the little, archaic, +shirted doll of Byzantine pattern, which ornaments so many +of these Cornish crosses, has not much save archæological +interest to commend it. Until Gothic times this was the +conventional pattern, and it is assumed that these early +crucifixes dated from the eighth century and onward until +a more naturalistic figure began to appear.</p> + +<p>Scattered over the far-flung landscape of the West our +Cornish crosses stand; by meadow and tilth and copse, among +the little hamlets of the peninsula, in lonely heaths and waste +places overrun by wild growing things, they shall be found. +Sometimes the Atlantic is their background and sometimes the +waters of the Channel. They were set on the roads that led +to the churches, and served not only as places for prayer, but<span class="pagenum">[116]</span> +also as sign-posts on the church-ways. Now many of the more +splendid specimens have been rescued, as in the case of this +great cross, and stand in churchyards, or under the shadow +of sanctified buildings. Their fragments are also scattered +over the land, here set in walls, here at cross-roads, now as a +gate-post, or a stepping-stone, or foot-bridge. Sometimes they +serve for boundary stones, and are yearly beaten; occasionally +they support a sundial; not seldom the Ordnance Surveyors +have outraged them with bench marks. Often only the +stunted head and limbs of the wheel-crosses remain, their shafts +vanished forever; still more frequently the cross-bases or +pedestals alone have been chronicled and the stones that surmounted +them exist no longer. None can say how numerous +they were of old time; and it may happen, while many have +been destroyed past recovery or restoration, that others still +exist in obscure places, or sheltered by the saving earth, for a +future race of antiquaries to discover and reclaim.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A West Country Pilgrimage, by Eden Phillpots + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 36967-h.htm or 36967-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/9/6/36967/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A West Country Pilgrimage + +Author: Eden Phillpots + +Illustrator: A. T. Benthall + +Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36967] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + [Illustration: TINTAGEL.] + + + + + A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE + + BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + + AUTHOR OF + "DANCE OF THE MONTHS," "A SHADOW PASSES," ETC. + + _ILLUSTRATED BY A. T. BENTHALL_ + + LONDON + LEONARD PARSONS + PORTUGAL STREET + + _First Published, May 1920_ + + _Leonard Parsons, Ltd._ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + HAYES BARTON + THE SAD HEATH + DAWLISH WARREN + THE OLD GREY HOUSE + BERRY POMEROY + BERRY HEAD + THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE + BAGTOR + OKEHAMPTON CASTLE + THE GORGE + THE GLEN + A DEVON CROSS + COOMBE + OLD DELABOLE + TINTAGEL + A CORNISH CROSS + + + + +HAYES BARTON + +[Illustration: HAYES BARTON.] + + +East of Exe River and south of those rolling heaths crowned by the +encampment of Woodberry, there lies a green valley surrounded by forest +and hill. Beyond it rise great bluffs that break in precipices upon the +sea. They are dimmed to sky colour by a gentle wind from the east, for +Eurus, however fierce his message, sweeps a fair garment about him. Out +of the blue mists that hide distance the definition brightens and lesser +hills range themselves, their knolls dark with pine, their bosoms +rounded under forest of golden green oak and beech; while beneath them a +mosaic of meadow and tilth spreads in pure sunshine. One field is +brushed with crimson clover; another with dull red of sorrel through the +green meadow grass; another shines daisy-clad and drops to the green of +wheat. Some crofts glow with the good red earth of Devon, and no growing +things sprout as yet upon them; but they hold seed of roots and their +hidden wealth will soon answer the rain. + +In the heart of the vale a brook twinkles and buttercups lie in pools of +gold, where lambs are playing together. + +Elms set bossy signets on the land and throng the hedgerows, their round +tops full of sunshine; under them the hawthorns sparkle very white +against the riot of the green. From the lifted spinneys and coverts, +where bluebells fling their amethyst at the woodland edge, pheasants +are croaking, and silver-bright against the blue aloft, wheel gulls, to +link the lush valley with the invisible and not far distant sea. They +cry and musically mew from their high place; and beneath them the cuckoo +answers. + +Nestling now upon the very heart of this wide vale a homestead lies, +where the fields make a dimple and the burn comes flashing. Byres and +granaries light gracious colour here, for their slate roofs are mellow +with lichen of red gold, and they stand as a bright knot round which the +valley opens and blossoms with many-coloured petals. The very buttercups +shine pale by contrast, and the apple-blooth, its blushes hidden from +this distance, masses in pure, cold grey beneath the glow of these great +roofs. Cob walls stretch from the outbuildings, and their summits are +protected against weather by a little penthouse of thatch. In their arms +the walls hold a garden of many flowers, rich in promise of small +fruits. Gooseberries and raspberries flourish amid old gnarled apple +trees; there are strawberries, too, and the borders are bright with May +tulips and peonies. Stocks and wallflowers blow flagrant by the pathway, +murmured over by honey bees; while where the farmhouse itself stands, +deep of eave under old thatch, twin yew trees make a dark splash on +either side of the entrance, and a wistaria showers its mauve ringlets +upon the grey and ancient front. The dormer windows are all open, and +there is a glimpse of a cool darkness through the open door. Within the +solid walls of this dwelling neither sunshine nor cold can penetrate, +and Hayes Barton is warm in winter, in summer cool. The house is shaped +in the form of a great E, and it has been patched and tinkered through +the centuries; but still stands, complete and sturdy in harmony of +design, with unspoiled dignity from a far past. Only the colours round +about it change with the painting of the seasons, for the forms of hill +and valley, the modelling of the roof-tree, the walls and the great +square pond outside the walls, change not. Enter, and above the +dwelling-rooms you shall find a chamber with wagon roof and window +facing south. It is, on tradition meet to be credited, the birthplace of +Walter Ralegh. + +Proof rests with Sir Walter's own assertion, and at one time the manor +house of Fardel, under Dartmoor, claimed the honour; but Ralegh himself +declares that he was born at Hayes, and speaks of his "natural +disposition to the place" for that reason. He desired, indeed, to +purchase his childhood's home and make his Devonshire seat there; but +this never happened, though the old, three-gabled, Tudor dwelling has +passed through many hands and many notable families. + +"Probably no conceivable growth of democracy," says a writer on Ralegh's +genealogy, "will make the extraction of a famous man other than a point +of general interest." Ralegh's family, at least, won more lustre from +him than he from them, though his mother, of the race of the +Champernownes, was a mother of heroes indeed. By her first marriage she +had borne Sir Walter's great half-brother, Humphrey Gilbert; and when +Otho Gilbert passed, the widow wedded Walter Ralegh, and gave birth to +another prodigy. The family of the Raleghs must have been a large and +scattered one; but our Western historian, Prince, stoutly declares that +Sir Walter was descended from an ancient and noble folk, "and could have +produced a much fairer pedigree than some of those who traduc'd him." + +The tale of his manifold labours has been inadequately told, though Fame +will blow her trumpet above his grave for ever; but among the lesser +histories Prince's brief chronicle is delightful reading, and we may +quote a passage or two for the pleasure of those who pursue this note. + +"A new country was discovered by him in 1584," says the historian, +"called in honour of the Queen, Virginia: a country that hath been since +of no inconsiderable profit to our nation, it being so agreeable to our +English bodies, so profitable to the Exchequer, and so fruitful in +itself; an acre there yielding over forty bushels of corn; and, which is +more strange, there being three harvests in a year: for their corn is +sow'd, ripe and cut down in little more than two months." + +I fear Virginia to-day will not corroborate these agricultural wonders. + +We may quote again, for Prince, on Sir Walter's distinction, is +instructive at this moment:-- + +"For this and other beneficial expeditions and designs, her Majesty was +pleased to confer on him the honour of Knighthood; which in her reign +was more esteemed; the Queen keeping the temple of honour close shut, +and never open'd but to vertue and desert." + +Well may democracy call for the destruction of that temple when +contemplating those that are permitted entrance to-day. + +Then vanished Elizabeth, and a coward king took her place. + +"Fourteen years Sir Walter spent in the Tower, of whom Prince Henry +would say that no King but his father would keep such a bird in a cage." + +But freedom followed, and the scholar turned into the soldier again. +Ultimately Spain had her way with her scourge and terror. James +ministered to her revenge, and Ralegh perished; "the only man left +alive, of note, that had helped to beat the Spaniards in the year 1588." + +The favour of the axe was his last, and being asked which way he would +dispose himself upon the block, he answered, "So the heart be right, it +is no matter which way the head lieth." + +"Authors," adds old Prince, "are perplexed under what topick to place +him, whether of statesman, seaman, soldier, chymist, or chronologer; for +in all these he did excel. He could make everything he read or heard his +own, and his own he would easily improve to the greatest advantage. He +seemed to be born to that only which he went about, so dextrous was he +in all his undertakings, in Court, camp, by sea, by land, with sword, +with pen. And no wonder, for he slept but five hours; four he spent in +reading and mastering the best authors; two in a select conversation and +an inquisitive discourse; the rest in business." + +We may say of him that not only did he write _The History of the World_, +but helped to make it; we may hold of all Devon's mighty sons, this man +the mightiest. Fair works have been inspired by his existence, but one +ever regrets that Gibbon, who designed a life of Ralegh, was called to +relinquish the idea before the immensity of his greater theme. + +In the western meadow without the boundary of Hayes Barton there lies a +great pool, where a cup has been hollowed to hold the brook. Here, under +oak trees, one may sit, mark a clean reflection of the farmhouse upon +the water, and regard the window of the birth chamber opening on the +western gable of the homestead. Thence the august infant's eyes first +drew light, his lungs, the air. He has told us that dear to memory was +that snug nook, and many times, while he wandered the world and wrote +his name upon the golden scroll, we may guess that the hero turned his +thought to these happy valleys and, in the mind, mirrored this haunt of +peace. + + + + +THE SAD HEATH + +[Illustration: THE SAD HEATH.] + + +Through the sad heath white roads wandered, trickling hither and thither +helplessly. There was no set purpose in them; they meandered up the +great hill and sometimes ran together to support each other. Then, +fortified by the contact, they climbed on across the dusky upland, where +it rolled and fell and lifted steadily to the crown of the land: a +flat-headed clump of beech and oak with a fosse round about it. Only the +roads twisting through this waste and a pool or two scattered upon it +brought any light to earth; but there were flowers also, for the whins +dragged a spatter of dull gold through the sere and a blackthorn hedge +shivered cold and white, where fallow crept to the edge of the moors. +For the rest, from the sad-coloured sky to the sentinel pines that rose +in little detached clusters on every side, all was restrained and almost +melancholy. The pines specially distinguished this rolling heath. They +lifted their darkness in clumps, ascending to the hill-tops, spattered +every acre of the land, and sprang as infant plants under the foot of +the wanderer. Scarcely a hundred yards lacked them; and they ranged from +the least seedling to full-grown trees that rose together and thrust +with dim red branch and bough through their own darkness. + +There was no wind on the heath, and few signs of spring. She had passed, +as it seemed, lighted the furzes, waked a thousand catkins on the dwarf +sallows in the bogs, and then departed elsewhere. One felt that the +deserted heath desired her return and regarded its obstinate winter +robes with impatience. It was an uplifted place, and seemed to shoulder +darkly out of the milder, mellower world beneath. Far below, an estuary +shone through the valley welter and ran a streak of dull silver from +south to north; while easterly rose up the grey horizons of the sea. + +In the murk of that silent hour, a spirit of thirst seemed to animate +the heather and the marshes that oozed out beneath. The secret impressed +upon my conscious intelligence was one of suspense, a watchful and alert +attitude--an emotion shared by the trees and the thickets, the heath and +the hills. It ascended higher and higher to the frowning crest of the +land, where round woods made a crown for the wilderness and marked +castramentations of old time. So unchanging appeared this place that +little imagination was needed to bring back the past and revive a +vanished century when the legions flashed where now the great trees +frowned and a hive of men, loosed from a hundred galleys, swarmed hither +to dig the ditches and pile these venerable earthworks for a stronghold. + +Thus the place lay in the lap of that tenebrous hour and waited for the +warm rain to loose its fountains of sap and brush the loneliness with +waking and welcoming green. It endured and hoped and seemed to turn +blind eyes from the pond and bog upward to question the gathering +clouds. + +Nigh me, a persistent and inquiring thrush clamoured from a pine. I +could see his amber, speckled bosom shaking with his song. + +"Why did he do it? Why did he do it? Why did he?" + +He had asked the question a thousand times; and then a dark bird, that +flapped high and heavy through the grey air, answered him. + +"God knows! God knows!" croaked the carrion crow. + + + + +DAWLISH WARREN + +[Illustration: DAWLISH WARREN.] + + +There is a spit of land that runs across the estuary of the Exe, and as +the centuries pass, the sea plays pranks with it. A few hundred years +ago the tideway opened to the West, not far from the red cliffs that +tower there, and then Exmouth and the Warren were one; but now it is at +Exmouth that the long sands are separated from the shore and, past that +little port, the ships go up the river, while the eastern end of the +Warren joins the mainland. So it has stood within man's memory; but now, +as though tired of this arrangement, wind and sea are modifying the +place again, for the one has found a new path in the midst, and the +other has blown at the sand dunes until their heads are reduced by many +feet from their old altitude. + +These sands are many-coloured, for over the yellow staple prevails a +delicate and changing harmony of various tones, now rose, now blue, as +though a million minute shining particles were reflecting the light of +the sky and bringing it to earth on their tiny surfaces. But in truth +these tender shades show where the sand is weathered, for if we walk +upon it and break the thin crust created by the last rain, the dream +tints depart, and a brighter corn colour breaks through. Coarse +mat-grass binds the dunes and helps to hold them together against the +forces of wind and water; but their tendency is to decrease. Perhaps +observation would prove that their masses shift and vanish more quickly +than we guess, for the sand is the sea's toy, and she makes and unmakes +her castles at will. + +As a lad, I very well remember the silvery hills towering to little +mountains above my head; and again I can hear the gentle tinkle of the +sand for ever rustling about me where I basked like a lizard in some +sun-baked nook. I remember the horrent couch grass that waved its ragged +tresses above me, and how I told myself that the range of the sand dunes +were great lions with bristling manes marching along to Exmouth. +Presently they would swim across to the shore and eat up everybody, as +soon as they had landed and shaken themselves. And the mud-flats I loved +well also, where the sea-lavender spread its purple on sound land above +the network of mud. I flushed summer snipe there and often lay +motionless to watch sea-birds fishing. Many wild flowers flourished and +the glass-wort made the flats as red as blood in autumn. It was a +dreamland of wonders for me, and now I was seeking mermaids' purses in +the tide-fringe and sorrowing to find them empty; now I was after +treasure-trove flung overboard from pirate ships, now hunting for the +secret hiding-places of buccaneers in the dunes. + +The ships go by still; but not the ships I knew; the flowers still +sparkle in the hollows and brakes; but their wonder has waned a little. +No more shall I weave the soldanella and sea-rocket and grey-green wheat +grass into crowns for the sea-nymphs to find when they come up from the +waves in the moonlight. + +It is a place of sweet air and wonderful sunshine. On a sunny day, with +the sand ablaze against the blue sky, one might think oneself in some +desert region of the East; but then green spaces, scarlet flags and a +warning "fore!" tell a different story. For golfers have found the +Warren now. Where once I roamed with only the gulls above and rabbits +below for company, and for music the sigh of the wind in the bents and +the song of the sea, half a hundred little houses have sprung up, and +bungalows, red and white and green, throng the Warren. At hand is a +railway-station, whence hundreds descend to take their pleasure, while +easterly this once peaceful region is most populous and the Exmouth +boats cross the estuary and land their passengers. + +One does not grudge the joy of the place to townsfolk or golfers; one +only remembers the old haunt of peace, now peaceful no more, the old +beauties that have vanished under the little dwellings and little +flagstaffs, the former fine distinction that has departed. + +Dawlish Warren now gives pleasure to hundreds, where once only the +dreamer or sportsman wandered through its mazes; and that is well; but +we of the old brigade, who remember its far-flung loneliness, its rare +wild flowers, its unique contours, its isolation and peculiar charm, may +be forgiven if we forget the twentieth century for a season and conjure +back the old time before us. + +Topsham, in the estuary, wakens thoughts of the Danes and their sword +and fire, when Hungar and Hubba brought their Viking ships up the river, +destroyed the busy little port, and, pushing on, defeated St. Edmond, +King of the East Angles. The pagans scourged this Christian monarch +with whips, then bound him to a tree and slew him. + + Tho' no place was left for wounds, + Yet arrows did not fail. + These furious wretches still let fly + Thicker than winter's hail. + +So writes the old poet quoted by Risdon, who adds that the Danes, +cutting off St. Edmond's head, "contumeliously threw it in a bush." + +But Topsham in Tudor times was a place of importance, a naval port, a +mart and road for ships. Thanks to weirs built across the waterway by +the Earls of Devon, Exeter began to lose its old-time trade, when the +tide was wont to ascend to the city. Therefore Exeter fought the earls, +and in the reign of Henry VIII. the city obtained a grant to cut a canal +from Topsham. Thus vessels of fifteen tons burthen could ascend to the +capital, and Topsham sank under the blow and lost its old importance. + +Exmouth also figures in the reign of Edward I. as a naval port. In 1298 +she contributed a fighting ship to the Fleet, and in 1347 sent ten +vessels to aid the third Edward's expedition against Calais. From +Exmouth, too, Edward IV. and Warwick, "the King Maker," embarked for the +Continent. + +Risdon also makes mention of Lympston, another village in the estuary, +aforetime in the lordship of the Dynhams, "of which family John Dynham, +a valiant esquire siding with the Earl of March, took the Lord Rivers +and Sir Anthony his son at Sandwich in their beds, when he was hurt in +the leg, the 37th Henry 6." + +The villages are worth a visit still, but Exmouth is best known to those +who visit Dawlish Warren now. For the open sea welcomes all who come +hither, and the little holiday homes that stand on either side of the +tidal stream are too few for those who would dwell here in July and +August if they could. + +I have seen dawn upon the Exe, and watched the mists rise upon these +heron-haunted flats to meet the morning. Then the villages twinkle out +over the water, and a land breeze wakens the sleepy dunes, ruffles the +still waters and fills the red sails of little fishers that come down to +the sea. + + + + +THE OLD GREY HOUSE + +[Illustration: THE OLD GREY HOUSE.] + + +Among the ancient, fortified manors of the West Country there is a +pleasant ruin whose history is innocent of event, yet glorified with a +noble name or two that rings down through the centuries harmoniously. +You shall find Compton Castle where the hamlet of Lower Marldon +straggles through a deep and fertile valley not many miles from Torbay. + +Compton's time-stained face and crown of ivy rise now above a plat of +flowers. Trim borders of familiar things blossom within their box-hedges +before the entrance, and at this autumn hour fat dahlias, spiring +hollyhocks, and rainbows of asters and pansies wind a girdle beneath the +walls. + +It is a ruin of wide roofs and noble frontage. Above its windows +sinister bartizans frown grimly; the portals yawn vast and deep; only +the chapel-windows open frankly upon the face of the dwelling; but +above, all apertures are narrow, up to the embattled towers. + +In the lap of many an enfolding hill Compton huddles its aged fabric, +and, despite certain warlike additions, can have risen for no purpose of +offence, for the land rakes it on every side; it stands at the bottom of +a great green cup, whose slopes are crowned with fir and beech, whose +sides now glimmer under stubble of corn, green of roots, and wealth of +wide orchards, bright with the ripening harvest. Close at hand men make +ready the cider-presses again, and the cooper's mallet echoes among his +barrels. + +Much of the castle still stands, and the entrance hall, chapel, priest's +chamber, and kitchen, with its gigantic hearth and double chimney, are +almost intact. A mouldering roof of lichened slates still covers more +than half of the ruin; but the banqueting hall has vanished, and many a +tower and turret, under their weight of ivy, lift ragged and broken to +the sky. Where now jackdaws chiefly dwell and bats sidle through the +naked windows at call of dusk; where wind and rain find free entrance +and pellitory-of-the-wall hangs its foliage for tapestry, with toadflax +and blue speedwell; where Nature labours unceasing from fern-crowned +battlement to mossy plinth, there dwelt of old the family of Gilbert. + +One Joan Compton conveyed the manor for her partage in the second +Edward's reign; and of their posterity are justly remembered and +revered the sons of Otho Gilbert, whose lady--a maiden of the +Champernownes--bore not only Humphrey, the adventurer, who discovered +Gilbert's Straits and founded the first British settlement of +Newfoundland; but also his more famous uterine brother, Walter Ralegh. +For upon Otho Gilbert's passing, his dame mated with Walter Ralegh of +Fardel, and by him brought into the world the poet, statesman, soldier, +courtier, explorer, and master-jewel of Elizabeth's Court. A noble +matron surely must have been that Katherine, mother of two such sons; +and less only in honour to these knights were Sir Humphrey's brothers, +of whom Sir John, his senior, rendered himself acceptable to God and man +by manifold charities and virtues; while Adrian Gilbert is declared a +gentleman very eminent for his skill in mines and matters of engineering +and science. + +Within these walls tradition brings Sir Walter and Sir Humphrey +together. We may reasonably see them here discussing their far-reaching +projects, while still the world smiled and both basked in the sunshine +of Royal favour. Yet, at the end of their triumphs, from our standpoint +in time, we can mark, stealing along the avenue of years, the shadow, +hideous in one case and violent in both, destined presently to put a +period to each great life. + +When the little _Squirrel_, a vessel of but ten tons burthen, was +bearing Sir Humphrey upon his last voyage from Newfoundland, before his +vision there took shape the spectre of a mighty lion gliding over the +sea, "yawning and gaping wide as he went." Upon which portent there rose +the storm whereby he perished. Yet the knight's memory is green, and his +golden anchor, with pearl at peak, badge of a Sovereign's grace, is not +forgot; nor his crest of a squirrel, whose living prototype still haunts +the fir trees beside the castle; nor his motto, worthy of so righteous a +genius and steadfast a man: "_Malem mori, quam mutare_." + +The navigator passed to his restless resting-place in 1584; his +half-brother, still busy with the colonisation of Virginia, did not +kneel at Westminster and brush his grey hair from the path of the axe +until Fate had juggled with him for further four-and-thirty years. Then +his sword and pen were laid down; his wise head fell low; and the +portion of the great: well-doing, ill report, was won. + +At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end; when the owl glides +out from his tower to the trees and the beetles boom, twilight shadows +begin to move and the old grey house broods, like a sentient thing, upon +the past; but no unhappy spirits haunt its desolation, and the mighty +dead, despite their taking off, revisit these glimpses of the moon to +clasp pale hands no more. Abundant life flows to the gate and circles +the walls. Arable land ascends the hills, and the clank of plough and +cry of man to his horses will soon be heard in the stubble of the corn. +The orchards flash ruddy and gold; to-morrow they will be naked and +grey; and then again they will foam with flowers and roll in a white sea +to the castle walls. Time rings his rounds and forgets not this +sequestered hollow. Today, beside the entrance-gate of Compton, the +husbandman mounts his nag from that same "upping-stock" whence a Gilbert +and a Ralegh leapt to horse in England's age of gold. + + + + +BERRY POMEROY + +[Illustration: BERRY POMEROY.] + + +Hither, a thousand years and more ago, rode Radulphus de la Pomerio, +lord of the Norman Castle of the Orchard; for William I. was generous to +those who helped his conquests. Radulphus, as the result of a hero's +achievements at Hastings, won eight-and-fifty Devon lordships, and of +these he chose Beri, "the Walled town," for his barony, or honour. + +Forward we may imagine him pressing with his cavalcade, through the +wooded hills and dales, until this limestone crag and plateau in the +forest suddenly opened upon his view, and the Norman eagle, judging the +strength of such a position, quickly determined that here should his +eyrie be built. For it was a stronghold impregnable before the days of +gunpowder. + +So the banner with the Pomeroy lion upon it was set aloft on the bluff, +and soon the sleep of the woods departed to the strenuous labour of a +thousand men. There is a great gap in the hill close at hand that shows +whence came these time-worn stones, when a feudal multitude of workers +were set upon their task. Then, grim, squat and stern, with a hundred +eyes from which the cross-bow's bolts might leap, arose another Norman +castle, its watch-towers and great ramparts wedged into the woods and +beetling over the valley beneath. It sprang from the solid rock, +dominated a gorge, and so stood for many hundred years, during which +time the descendants of Ralph exercised baronial rights and enjoyed the +favour of their princes. The family, indeed, continued to prosper until +1549, but then disaster overtook them and they disappeared, disgraced. +It was during this year that Devon opposed the "Act for Reforming the +Church Service." Tooth and nail she resented the proposed changes; and +among the malcontents there figured a soldier Pomeroy, now head of his +house, who had fought with distinction in France during the reign of +Henry VIII. Like many another military veteran since his time, he +assumed an exceedingly definite attitude on matters of religion, and +held tolerance a doubtful virtue where dogma was involved. Him, +therefore, the discontented gentlemen of the West elected their leader, +and, after preliminary successes, the baron lost the day at Clist Heath, +nigh Exeter. He was captured, and only escaped with his life. He kept +his head on his shoulders, but Berry Pomeroy became sequestrated to the +Crown. + +By purchase, the old castle now owned new masters, for the Seymours +followed the founders in their heritage, and the great Elizabethan ruin, +that lies in the midst of the Norman work and towers above it, is of +their creation. + +Sir Edward--a descendant of the Protector--it was who, when William III. +remarked to him, "I believe you are of the family of the Duke of +Somerset?" made instant reply, "Pardon, sir; the Duke of Somerset is of +my family." This haughty gentleman was the last of his race to dwell at +Berry Pomeroy; but to his descendants the castle still belongs, and it +can utter this unique boast: that since the Conquest it has changed +hands but once. + +The fabric of Seymour's mansion was, it is said, never completed, but +enough still stands to make an imposing ruin; while the earlier +fragments of the original fortress, including the southern gateway, the +pillared chamber above it and the north wing of the quadrangle, complete +a spectacle sufficiently splendid in its habiliments of grey and green. + +Nature had played with it and rendered it beautiful. Ivy crowns every +turret and shattered wall; its limbs writhe like hydras in and out of +the ruined windows, and twist their fingers into the rotting mortar; +while along the tattered battlements and archways, grass and wild +flowers grow rankly together and many saplings of oak and ash and thorn +find foothold aloft. Over all the jackdaws chime and chatter, for it is +their home now, and they share it with the owl and the flittermouse. + +Seen from beyond the stew ponds in the valley below, the ruins of Berry +still present a noble vision piled among the tree-tops into the sky, and +never can it more attract than at autumn time, when the wealth of the +woods is scattered and only spruce and pine trail their green upon the +grey and amber of the naked forest. Then, against the low, lemon light +of a clear sunset, Berry's ragged crown ascends like a haunted castle in +a fairy story; while beneath the evening glow, the still water casts +many a crooked reflection from the overhanging branches, and the last +leaves hanging on the osiers splash gold against the gloom of the banks. +The hour is very still after wind and rain; twilight broods under +gathering vapours, while another night gently obscures detail and +renders all formless and vast as the darkness falls. The castle is +swallowed up in the woods; the first owl hoots; then there is a rush +overhead and a splash and scutter below, as the wild duck come down from +above, and, for a little while, break the peace with their noise. Their +flurry on the water sets up wavelets, that catch the last of the light +and run to bank with a little sigh. Then all is silent and stars begin +to twinkle through the network of boughs at forest edge. + + + + +BERRY HEAD + +[Illustration: BERRY HEAD.] + + +Upon this seaward-facing headland the great cliffs slope outward like +the sides of an old "three-decker." They bulge upon the sea, and the +flower-clad scales of the limestone are full of lustrous light and +colour, shining radiantly upon the still tide that flows at their feet. +For, on this breathless August day, the very sea is weary; not a ripple +of foam marks juncture of rock and water. + +The cliffs are spattered with green, where scurvy-grass and samphire, +thrift and stonecrop find foothold in every cleft; but the flowers are +nearly gone; the rare, white rock rose which haunts these crags has shed +her last petal and the little cathartic flax and centaury; the snowy +dropwort, storks-bill and carline thistles have all been scorched away +by days of sunshine and dewless nights. Only the sea lavender still +brushes the great, glaring planes of stone with cool colour, and a wild +mallow lolls here and there out of a crevice. + +By the coastguard path holiday folk tramp with hot faces, but, save for +the gulls, there is little sound or movement, for land and sea are +swooning in the heavy noontide hour. The birds are everywhere--cresting +the finials of the rocks, swooping over the sea, busy teaching the +little grey "squabs" to use their wings and trust the air. Now and then +a coney thrusts his ears from a burrow, likes not the heat, and pops +back again to his cool, dark parlour. Brown hawks hang above the brown +sward. Life seems to be retreating before the pitiless sun, yet the +sear, scorched grasses will be green again in a few weeks when the +cisterns of the autumn rains open upon them. Already tiny, blue _scilla +autumnalis_ is pressing her head through the turf. + +Islets lie off-shore, so full of light that they glow like bubbles blown +of air and seem to float on the surface of the sea. Their shadows fall +in delicious purple on the aquamarine waters and warm hues percolate +their ragged, silver faces, while the gulls cluster in myriads upon +them, and, black and silent among the noisy sea-fowl, stand dusky +cormorants with long necks lifted. Like pale blue silk, shot and +streamed over with pure light, the Channel rises to the mists of the +horizon. Light penetrates air and water and earth, so that the weight of +land and water are lifted off them and lost; indeed the scene appears to +be composed of imponderable hazes and vapours merging into each other; +it is wrought in planes of light--a gorgeous, unsubstantial illumination +as though the clouds were come to earth. The eternal melody of the gulls +pierces the picture with sound, hard and metallic, until their din and +racket seem of heavier substance and reality than the mighty cliffs and +sea from which it pours. Yet the birds themselves, in their floatings +and their wheelings, are lighter than feathers. They make the only +movement save for fisher craft with tan-red sails now streaming in line +round the Head to sea. For the Scruff they are bound--a great, sandy +bottom where sole and turbot dwell ten sea-miles off-shore. + +Inland gleam cornfields of heavy grain ripe for harvest--pale yellow of +oats and golden brown of wheat, where the poppies stir with the gipsy +rose; and flung up upon the cliff-edge rise lofty ramparts, ribbed with +granite and bored by portholes for cannon. A modern gun a league out at +sea would crumble these masonries like sponge-cake; but they were lifted +in haste a hundred years ago, when England quaked at the threatened +advent of "Boney," whose ordnance could not have destroyed them. The +great fortresses were piled by many thousands of busy hands, yet time +sped quicker than the engineers, and before the forts were completed, +Napoleon, from the deck of the _Bellerophon_ in the bay beneath, had +looked his last on Europe. + +Still the unfinished work sprawls over the cliffs, and whence cannon +were meant to stare, now thrust the blackberry, brier and eagle-fern +through the embrasures, and stunted black-thorns and white-thorns shine +green against the grey. + +One clambers among them to seek the gift of a patch of shade, and +wonders what the first Napoleon would have thought of the hydroplane +purring out to sea half a mile overhead. + + + + +THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE + +[Illustration: THE QUARRY AND THE BRIDGE.] + + +Lastrea and athyrium, their foliage gone, cling in silky russet knobs +under the granite ledges, warm the iron-grey stone with brown and agate +brightness, and promise many a beauty of unfolding frond when spring +shall come again. For their jewels will be unfolding presently, to +soften the cleft granite with misty green and bring the vernal time to +these silent cliffs. + +The quarry lies like a gash in the slope of the hills. To the dizzy +edges of it creep heather and the bracken; beneath, upon its precipices, +a stout rowan or two rises, and everywhere Nature has fought and +laboured to hide this wound driven so deep into her mountain-side by +man. A cicatrix of moss and fern and many grasses conceal the scars of +pick and gunpowder; time has weathered the harsh edges of the riven +stone; the depths of the quarry are covered by pools of clear water, for +it is nearly a hundred years since the place yielded its stores. + +One great silence is the quarry now--an amphitheatre of peace and quiet +hemmed by the broken abutments of granite, and opening upon the +hillside. The heather extends over wide, dun spaces to a blue distance, +where evening lies dim upon the plains beneath; round about a minor +music of dripping water tinkles from the sides of the quarry; a current +of air brushes the pools and for a moment frets their pale surfaces; +the dead rushes murmur and then are silent; here and there, along the +steps and steep places flash the white scuts of the rabbits. A pebble is +dislodged by one of them, and, falling to the water beneath, sets rings +of light widening out upon it and raises a little sound. + +In the midst, casting its jagged shadow upon the water, springs a great, +ancient crane from which long threads of iron still stretch round about +to the cliffs. It stands stoutly yet and marks the meaning of all around +it. + +At time of twilight it is good to be here, for then one may measure the +profundity of such peace and contrast this matrix of vanished granite +with the scene of its present disposal; one may drink from this cup all +the mystery that fills a deserted theatre of man's work and feel that +loneliness which only human ruins tell; and then one may open the eye of +the mind upon another vision, and suffer the ear of imagination to throb +with its full-toned roar. + +For hence came London Bridge; the mighty masses of granite riven from +this solitude span Thames. + +Away in the heath and winding onward by many a curve may yet be traced +the first railroad in the West Country. It started here, upon the +frontier hills of Dartmoor, and sank mile upon mile to the valleys +beneath. But of granite were wrought the lines, and over them ran +ponderous wagons. Many thousand feet of stone were first cut for the +railway, before those greater masses destined for London set forth upon +it to their destination. + +Like the empty quarry this deserted railway now lies silent, and the +place of its passing on the hills and through the forest beneath is at +peace again. From the Moor the tramway drops into the woods of Yarner, +and here, between a heathery hillside and the fringes of the forest, the +broken track may still be found, its semi-grooved lengths of granite +scattered and clad in emerald moss, where once the great wheels were +wont to grind it. The line passes under interlacing boughs of beeches +and winds this way and that, like a grey snake, through the copper +brightness of the fallen leaves; it turns and twists, dropping ever, and +ceases at last at the mouth of a little canal in the valley, where +barges waited of old to carry the stone to the sea. + +Here also is stagnation now, but picturesque wrecks of the ancient boats +may still be seen at Teigngrace in the forgotten waterway. They lie +foundered upon the canal with bulging sides and broken ribs. Their +shapes are outlined in grasses and flowers; sallows leap silvery from +the old bulwarks and alders find foothold there; briar and kingcups +flourish upon their decay; moss and ferns conceal their wounds; in +summer purple spires of loosestrife man their water-logged decks, and +the vole swims to and from his hidden nest therein. + +Here came the Hey Tor granite, after dropping twelve hundred feet from +the Moor above. Leaving the great wains, it was shipped upon the Stover +Canal and despatched down the estuary of Teign to Teignmouth, whence +larger vessels bore it away to London for its final purpose. + +It came to supersede that bridge of houses familiar in the old pictures, +the bridge that was a street; the bridge that in its turn had taken the +place of older bridges built with wood: those mediaeval structures that +perished each in turn by flood or fire. + +It was in 1756 that the Corporation of London obtained an order to +rebuild London Bridge; but things must have moved slowly, for not until +fifty years later was the announcement made of a new bridge to pass from +Bankside, Southwark, to Queen Street, Cheapside. The public was invited +to invest in the enterprise, and doubtless proved willing enough to do +so. The ancient structure, long a danger to the navigation of the river, +vanished, and in 1825, with great pomp and ceremony, the +foundation-stone of the "New London Bridge" sank to its place. A recent +writer in _The Academy_ has given a graphic picture of the event, and +described the immense significance attached to the occasion. From the +earliest dawn of that June morning, London flocked to waterside and +thronged each point of vantage. Before noon the roofs of Fishmongers' +Hall, of St. Saviour's Church, and every building that offered a glimpse +of the ceremony were crowded; the river was alive with craft of all +descriptions; the cofferdam for the erection of the first pier served +the purpose of a private enclosure, where notable folk sat in four tiers +of galleries under flags and awnings. + +At four o'clock, by which time the great company must have been weary of +waiting, two six-pounder guns at the Old Swan Stairs announced the +approach of the Civic and State authorities. The City Marshal, the +Bargemasters, the Watermen, the members of the Royal Society, the +Goldsmiths, the Under-Sheriffs, the Lord Mayor and the Duke of York +appeared. + +"His Lordship, who was in full robes," so says an eye-witness of the +event, "offered the chair to his Royal Highness, which was positively +declined on his part. The Mayor, therefore, seated himself; the Lady +Mayoress, with her daughters in elegant dresses, sat near his Lordship, +accompanied by two fine-looking, intelligent boys, her sons; near them +were the two lovely daughters of Lord Suffolk, and many other +fashionable ladies." + +Then followed the ceremony. Coins in a cut-glass bottle were placed +beneath a copper plate, and upon them descended a mighty block of +Dartmoor granite. "The City sword and mace were placed upon it +crossways, the foundation of the new bridge was declared to be laid, the +music struck up 'God save the King,' and three times three excessive +cheers broke forth from the company, the guns of the Honourable +Artillery Company on the Old Swan Wharf fired a salute, and every face +wore smiles of gratulation. Three cheers were afterwards given for the +Duke of York, three for Old England, and three for the architect, Mr. +Rennie." + +Then did a journalist with imagination dance a hornpipe upon the +foundation-stone--for England would not take its pleasure sadly on that +great day--and subsequently many ladies stood upon it, and "departed +with the satisfaction of being enabled to relate an achievement +honourable to their feelings!" + +And still the noble bridge remains, though the delicate feet that rested +on its foundation-stone have all tripped to the shades. The bridge +remains, and its five simple spans--the central one of a hundred and +fifty-two feet--make a startling contrast with the nineteen little +arches and huge pedestals of the ancient structure. New London Bridge +is more than a thousand feet long; its width is fifty-six feet; its +height, above low water, sixty feet. The central piers are twenty-four +feet thick, and the voussoirs of the central arch four feet nine inches +deep at the crown and nine feet at the springing. The foundations lie +twenty-nine feet, six inches beneath low water; the exterior stones are +all of granite; while the interior mass of the fabric came half from +Bramley Fall and half from Derbyshire. + +More than seven years did London Bridge take a-building, and it was +opened in 1831. The total costs were something under a million and a +half of money--less than is needed for a modern battleship. + +And already, before it is one hundred years old, there comes a cry that +London's heart finds this great artery too small for the stream of life +that flows for ever upon it. One may hope, however, that when the +necessity arrives, this notable bridge will not be spoiled, but another +created hard by, if needs must, to fulfil the demands of traffic. +Perhaps a second tunnel may solve the problem, since metropolitan man is +turning so rapidly into a mole. + +From quarry to bridge is a far cry, yet he who has seen both may dream +sometimes among the dripping ferns, silent cliff-faces and unruffled +pools, of the city's roar and riot and the ceaseless thunder of man's +march from dawn till even; while there--in the full throb and hurtle of +London town, swept this way and that amid the multitudes that traverse +Thames--it is pleasant to glimpse, through the reek and storm, the +cradle of this city-stained granite, lying silent at peace in the +far-away West Country. + + + + +BAGTOR + +[Illustration: BAGTOR.] + + +From the little southern salient of Bagtor at Dartmoor edge, there falls +a slope to the "in country" beneath. Thereon Bagtor woods extend in many +a shining plane--from wind-swept hill-crowns of beech and fir, to +dingles and snug coombs in the valley bottom a thousand feet beneath. + +On a summer day one loiters in the dappled wood, for here is welcome +shade after miles of hot sunshine on the heather above. Music of water +splashes pleasantly through the trees, where a streamlet falls from step +to step; the last of the bluebells still linger by the way, and above +them great beech-boles rise, all chequered with sun splashes. On the +earth dead leaves make a russet warmth, brighter by contrast with the +young green round about, and brilliant where sunlight winnows through. +There, in the direct beam, flash little flies, which hang suspended upon +the light like golden beads; while through the glades, young fern is +spread for pleasant resting-places. Pigeons murmur aloft unseen, and +many a grey-bird and black-bird sing beside their hidden homes. + +At last the woodlands make an end, old orchards spread in a clearing, +and the sun, now turning west, has left the apple trees, so that their +blossom hangs cool and shaded on the boughs. Behind--a background for +the orchard--there rise the walls of an ancient house, weathered and +worn--a mass of picturesque gables and tar-pitched roofs with red-brick +chimneys ascending above them. No great dignity or style marks this +dwelling. It is a thing of patches and additions. Here the sun still +burns radiantly, makes the roof golden, and flashes on the snow-white +"fan-tails" that strut up and down upon it. + +Great Scotch firs tower to the south, and the light burns redly in their +boughs against the blue sky above them. A farmhouse nestles beside the +old mansion under a roof of ancient thatch, that falls low over the +dawn-facing front, and makes ragged eyelashes for the little windows. +The face of the farm is nearly hidden in green things, and a colour note +of mauve dominates the foliage where wistaria showers. There are +climbing roses too, a Japanese quince, and wallflowers and columbines in +the garden plot that subtends the dwelling. Mossy walls enclose the +garden, and beneath them spreads the farmyard--a dust-dry place to-day +wherein a litter of black piglets gambol round their mother. Poultry +cluck and scratch everywhere, and a company of red calves cluster +together in one corner. A ploughman brings in his horses. From a byre +comes the purr of milk falling into a pail. + +On still evenings bell music trickles up to this holt of ancient peace +from a church tower three miles away; for we stand in the parish of +Ilsington on the shoulder of Dartmoor, and the home of the silver +"fan-tails" is Bagtor House--a spot sanctified to all book-lovers. Here, +a very mighty personage first saw the light and began his pilgrimage; at +Bagtor was John Ford born, the first great decadent of English letters, +the tragedian whose sombre works belong to the sunset time of the +spacious days. + +In April of 1586 the infant John received baptism at Ilsington church; +while, sixteen years later, he was apprenticed to his profession and +became a member of the Middle Temple. At eighteen John Ford, who wrote +out of his own desire and under an artist's compulsion only, first +tempted fortune; and over his earliest effort, _Fame's Memorial_, a veil +may be drawn; while of subsequent collaborations with Webster and +Decker, part perished unprinted and Mr. Warburton's cook "used up" his +comedies. Probably they are no great loss, for a master with less sense +of humour never lived. But _The Witch of Edmonton_ in Swinburne's +judgment embodies much of Ford's best, and his greatest plays all +endure. + +The man who wrote _The Lover's Melancholy_, _'Tis Pity She's a Whore_, +_The Broken Heart_ and _Love's Sacrifice_ was born in this sylvan scene +and his cradle rocked to the murmur of wood doves. True he vanished +early from Devonshire, and though uncertain tradition declares his +return, asserting that, while still in prime and vigour, he laid by his +gown and pen and came back to Bagtor, to end his days where he was born, +and mellow his stormy heart before he died, no proof that he did so +exists. His life's history has been obliterated and contemporary records +of him have yet to appear. + +As an artist he must surely have loved horror for horror's sake, and, +too often, our terror arouses not that pity to which tragedy should lift +man's heart, but rather generates disgust before his extraordinary plots +and the unattractive and inhuman characters which unravel them. One +salutes the intellectual power of him, but merely shudders, without +being enchained or uplifted by the nature of his themes. It has been +well said of Ford that he "abhorred vice and admired virtue; but +ordinary vice or modern virtue were to him as light wine to a dram +drinker.... Passion must be incestuous or adulterous; grief must be +something more than martyrdom, before he could make them big enough to +be seen." + +There is a little of Michaelangelo about Ford--something excruciating, +tortured. The tormented marble of the one is reflected in the wracked +and writhing characters of the other; but whether Ford felt for the +sorrow of earth as the Florentine; whether he shared that mightier man's +fiery patriotism, enthusiasm of humanity and tragic griefs before the +suffering of mankind, we know not. One picture we have of him from old +time, and it offers a gloomy, aloof figure, little caring to win +friendship, or court understanding from his fellows:-- + + Deep in a dump John Ford was alone got, + With folded arms and melancholy hat. + +So depicted the gloomy artist might serve for tragedy's self--arms +crossed, brows drawn, eyes darkling under the broad-brimmed beaver, with +the plotter's night-black cloak swept round his person. Or to a vision +of Michaelangelo's "Il Penseroso" we may exalt the poet, and see him in +that solemn and stately stone, finally at peace, his last word written +and the finger of silence upon his gloomy lips. + +Hazlitt finds John Ford finical and fastidious. He certainly is so, and +one often wonders how this mind and pen should have welcomed such +appalling subjects. He plays with edged tools and too well knows the +use of poisoned weapons, says Hazlitt; and the criticism is just in the +opinion of those who, with him, account it an artist's glory that he +shall not tamper with foul and "unfair" subjects, or sink his genius to +the kennel and gutter. That, however, is the old-world, vanished +attitude, for artists recognise no "unfair" subjects to-day. + +Indeed, Ford can be not seldom beautiful and tender and touched to +emotion of pity; but by the time of Charles, the golden galaxies were +gone; their forces were spent; their inspiration had perished; England, +merry no more, began to shiver in the shadow of coming puritan eclipse; +and that twilight seems to have cast by anticipation its penumbra about +Ford. + +There is in him little of the rollicking, superficial coarseness of the +Elizabethans; the stain is in web and woof. His great moments are few; +he is mostly ferocious, or absurdly sentimental, and one confesses that +the bulk of his best work, judged against the highest of ancient or +modern tragedy, rings feebly with a note of too transparent artifice. He +is moved by intellectual interest rather than creative inspiration; +there is far more brain than heart in his writings. + +Perhaps he knew it and convinced himself, while still at the noon of +intelligence, that he was no creator. Perhaps he abandoned art, through +failure to satisfy his own ideals. At any rate it would seem that he +stopped writing at a time when most men have still much to give. + +One would like at least to believe that he found in his birthplace the +distinguished privacy he desired and an abode of physical and mental +peace. He may, indeed, have come home again to Devon when his work was +ended; he may have passed the uncertain residue of life in seclusion +with wife and family at this estate of his ancestors; his dust may lie +unhonoured and unrecorded at Ilsington, as Herrick's amid the green +graves not far distant at Dean Prior. + +It is all guesswork, and the truth of John Ford's life, as of his death, +may be forever hidden. One sees him a notable, silent, subtle man, prone +to pessimism as a gift of heredity--a man disappointed in his +achievement, soured by inner criticism and comparison with those who +were greater than he. + +So, weary of cities and the company of wits and poets, he came back to +the country, that he might heal his disappointments and soothe his +pains. His life, to the unseeing eyes around him, doubtless loomed +prosperous and complete; to himself, perchance, all was dust and ashes +of thwarted ambition. Again he roamed the woods where he had learned to +walk; won to the love of nature; underwent the thousand new experiences +and fancied discoveries of a townsman fresh in the country; and, through +these channels, came to contentment and sunshine of mind, bright enough +to pierce the night of his thoughts and sweeten the dark currents of his +imagination. It may be so. + + + + +OKEHAMPTON CASTLE + +[Illustration: OKEHAMPTON CASTLE.] + + +A high wind roared over the tree-tops and sent the leaf +flying--blood-red from the cherry, russet from the oak, and yellow from +the elm. Rain and sunshine followed swiftly upon each other, and the +storms hurtled over the forest, hissed in the river below and took fire +through their falling sheets, as the November sun scattered the +rear-guard of the rain and the cloud purple broke to blue. A great wind +struck the larches, where they misted in fading brightness against the +inner gloom of the woods, and at each buffet, their needles were +scattered like golden smoke. Only the ash trees had lost all their +leaves, for a starry sparkle of foliage still clung to every other +deciduous thing. The low light, striking upon a knoll and falling on +dripping surfaces of stone and tree trunk, made a mighty flash and +glitter of it, so that the trees and the scattered masonry, that +ascended in crooked crags above their highest boughs, were lighted with +rare colour and blazed against the cloud masses now lumbering +storm-laden from the West. + +The mediaeval ruin, that these woods had almost concealed in summer, now +loomed amid them well defined. Viewed from aloft the ground plan of the +castle might be distinctly traced, and it needed no great knowledge to +follow the architectural design of it. The sockets of the pillars that +sprang to a groined entrance still remained, and within, to right and +left of the courtyard, there towered the roofless walls of a state +chamber, or banqueting hall, on the one hand, a chapel, oratory and +guard-room on the other. The chapel had a piscina in the southern wall; +the main hall was remarkable for its mighty chimney. Without, the ruins +of the kitchens were revealed, and they embraced an oven large enough to +bake bread for a village. Round about there gaped the foundations of +other apartments, and opened deep eyelet windows in the thickness of the +walls. The mass was so linked up and knit together that of old it must +have presented one great congeries of chambers fortified by a circlet of +masonry; but now the keep towered on a separate hillock to the +south-west of the ruin, and stood alone. It faced foursquare, dominated +the valley, and presented a front impregnable to all approach. + +This is the keep that Turner drew, and set behind it a sky of mottled +white and azure specially beloved by Ruskin; but the wizard took large +liberties with his subject, flung up his castle on a lofty scarp, and +from his vantage point at stream-side beneath, suggested a nobler and a +mightier ruin than in reality exists. One may suppose that steps or +secret passages communicated with the keep, and that in Tudor times no +trees sprang to smother the little hill and obscure the views of the +distant approaches--from Dartmoor above and the valleys beneath. Now +they throng close, where oak and ash cling to the sides of the hillock +and circle the stones that tower to ragged turrets in their midst. + +Far below bright Okement loops the mount with a brown girdle of foaming +waters that threads the meadows; and beyond, now dark, now wanly +streaked with sunshine, ascends Dartmoor to her border heights of Yes +Tor and High Willhayes. Westerly the land climbs again and the last +fires of autumn flicker over a forest. + +I saw the place happily between wild storms, at a moment when the walls, +warmed by a shaft of sunlight, took on most delicious colour and, +chiming with the gold of the flying leaves, towered bright as a dream +upon the November blue. + +At the Conquest, Baldwin de Redvers received no fewer than one hundred +and eighty-one manors in Devon alone, for William rewarded his strong +men according to their strength. We may take it, therefore, that this +Baldwin de Redvers, or Baldwin de Brionys, was a powerful lieutenant to +the Conqueror--a man of his hands and stout enough to hold the West +Country for his master. From his new possessions the Baron chose +Ochementone[1] for his perch; indeed, he may be said to have created the +township. With military eye he marked a little spur of the hills that +commanded the passes of the Moor and the highway to Cornwall and the +Severn Sea; and there built his stronghold,--the sole castle in Devon +named in Domesday. But of this edifice no stone now stands upon another. +It has vanished into the night of time past, and its squat, square, +Norman keep scowls down upon the valleys no more. + +[1] "Okehampton" is a word which has no historic or philological excuse. + +The present ruins belong to the Perpendicular period of later +centuries, and until a recent date the second castle threatened swiftly +to pass after the first; but a new lease of life has lately been given +to these fragments; they have been cleaned and excavated, the conquering +ivy has been stripped from their walls, and a certain measure of work +accomplished to weld and strengthen the crumbling masonry. Thus a +lengthened existence has been assured to the castle. "Time, which +antiquates antiquities," is challenged, and will need reinforcement of +many years wherein again to lift his scaling ladders of ivy, loose his +lightnings from the cloud, and marshal his fighting legions of rain and +tempest, frost and snow. + + + + +THE GORGE + +[Illustration: THE GORGE.] + + +Reflection swiftly reveals the significance of a river gorge, for it is +upon such a point that the interest of early man is seen to centre. The +shallow, too, attracts him, though its value varies; it must ever be a +doubtful thing, because the shallow depends upon the moods of a river, +and a ford is not always fordable. But to the gorge no flood can reach. +There the river's banks are highest, the aperture between them most +trifling; there man from olden time has found the obvious place of +crossing and thrown his permanent bridge to span the waterway. At a +gorge is the natural point of passage, and Pontifex, the bridge-builder, +seeking that site, bends road to river where his work may be most easily +performed, most securely founded. But while the bridge, its arch +springing from the live rock, is safe enough, the waters beneath are +like to be dangerous, and if a river is navigable at all, at her gorges, +where the restricted volume races and deepens, do the greatest dangers +lie. In Italy this fact gave birth to a tutelary genius, or shadowy +saint, whose special care was the raft-men of Arno and other rivers. +Their dangerous business took these _foderatore_ amid strange hazards, +and one may imagine them on semi-submerged timbers, swirling and +crashing over many a rocky rapid, in the throats of the hills, where +twilight homed and death was ever ready to snatch them from return to +smooth waters and sunshine. So a new guardian arose to meet these +perils, and the boldest navigator lifted his thoughts to Heaven and +commended his soul to the keeping of San Gorgone. + +Sublimity haunts these places; be they great as the Grand Canyon of +Arizona and the mountain rifts of Italy and France, or trifling as this +dimple on Devon's face of which I tell to-day, they reveal similar +characteristics and alike challenge the mind of the intelligent being +who may enter them. + +Here, under the roof of Devon, through the measures that press up to the +Dartmoor granite and are changed by the vanished heat thereof, a little +Dartmoor stream, in her age-long battle with earth, has cut a right +gorge, and so rendered herself immortal. There came a region in her +downward progress when she found barriers of stone uplifted between her +and her goal; whereupon, without avoiding the encounter, she cast +herself boldly upon the work and set out to cleave and to carve. Now +this glyptic business, begun long before the first palaeolithic man trod +earth, is far advanced; the river has sunk a gulley of near two hundred +feet through the solid rock, and still pursues her way in the nether +darkness, gnawing ceaselessly at the stone and leaving the marks of her +earlier labours high up on either side of the present channel. There, +written on the dark Devonian rock, is a record of erosion set down ages +before human eye can have marked it; for fifty feet above the present +bed are clean-scooped pot-holes, round and true, left by those +prehistoric waters. But the sides of the gorge are mostly broken and +sloping; and upon the shelves of it dwell trees that fling their +branches together with amazing intricacies of foliage in summer-time and +lace-like ramage in winter. Now bright sunshine flashes down the pillars +of them and falls from ledge to ledge of each steep precipice; it +brightens great ivy banks and illuminates a thousand ferns, that stud +each little separate knoll in the great declivities, or loll from clefts +and crannies to break the purple shadows with their fronds. The buckler +and the shield fern leap spritely where there is most light; the +polypody loves the limb of the oak; the hart's tongue haunts the +coolest, darkest crevices and hides the beauty of silvery mosses and +filmy ferns under cover of each crinkled leaf. And secret waters twinkle +out by many a hidden channel to them, bedewing their foliage with grey +moisture. + +On a cloudy day night never departs from the deepest caverns of this +gorge, and only the foam-light reveals each polished rib and buttress. +The air is full of mist from a waterfall that thunders through the +darkness, and chance of season and weather seldom permit the westering +sun to thrust a red-gold shaft into the gloom. But that rare moment is +worth pilgrimage, for then the place awakens and a thousand magic +passages of brightness pierce the gorge to reveal its secrets. In such +moments shall be seen the glittering concavities, the fair pillars and +arches carved by the water, and the hidden forms of delicate life that +thrive upon them, dwelling in darkness and drinking of the foam. Most +notable is a crimson fungus that clings to the dripping precipices like +a robe, so that they seem made of polished bloodstone, and hint the +horror of some tragedy in these loud shouting caves. Below the mass of +the river, very dark under its creaming veil of foam, shouts and +hastens; above, there slope upwards the cliff-masses to a mere ribbon of +golden-green, high aloft where the trees admit rare flashes from the +azure above them. Beech and ash spring horizontally from the precipices, +and great must be the bedded strength of the roots that hold their +trunks hanging there. With the dark forces of the gorge dragging them +downward and the sunshine drawing them triumphantly up--between +gravitation and light--they poise, destruction beneath and life +beckoning from above. They nourish thus above their ultimate graves, +since they, too, must fall at last and join those dead tree skeletons +whose bones are glimmering amid the rocks below. + +Here light and darkness so cunningly blend that size is forgotten, as +always happens before a thing inherently fine. The small gorge wrought +of a little river grows great and bulks large to imagination. The +soaring sides of it, the shadow-loving things beneath, the torture of +the trees above, and the living water, busy as of yore in levelling its +ancient bed to the sea, waken wonder at such conquest over these +fire-baked rocks. The heart goes out to the river and takes pleasure to +follow her from the darkness of her battle into the light again, where, +flower-crowned, she emerges between green banks that shelve gently, hung +with wood-rush and meadow-sweet, angelica and golden saxifrage. Here +through a great canopy of translucent foliage shines the noon sunlight, +celebrating peace. Into the river, where she spreads upon a smooth pool, +and trout dart shadowy through the crystal, the brightness burns, until +the stream bed sparkles with amber and agate and flashes up in sweet +reflections beneath each brier and arched fern-frond bending at the +brink. + +Nor does the rivulet lack correspondence with greater streams in its +human relation; she is complete in every particular, for man has found +her also; and dimly seen, amid the very tree-tops, where the gorge +opens, and great rocks come kissing close, an arch of stone carries his +little road from hamlet to hamlet. + + + + +THE GLEN + +[Illustration: THE GLEN.] + + +There is a glen above West Dart whence a lesser stream after brief +journeying comes down to join the river. By many reaches, broken with +little falls, the waters descend upon the glen from the Moor; but +barriers of granite first confront them, and before the lands break up +and hollow, a mass of boulders, piled in splendid disorder and crowned +with willow and rowan, crosses the pathway of the torrent. Therefore the +little river divides and leaps and tumbles foaming over the mossy +granite, or creeps beneath the boulders by invisible ways. Into fingers +and tresses the running waters dislimn, and then, that great obstacle +passed, their hundred rillets run together again and go on their way +with music. By a descent that becomes swiftly steeper, the burn falls +upon fresh rocks, is led into fresh channels and broken to the right and +left where mossy islets stand knee-deep in fern and bilberry. Here +spring up the beginnings of the wood, for the glen is full of trees. +Beech and alder, with scrub of dwarf willow at their feet, cluster on +the islets and climb the deepening valley westward; but in the glen +stand aged trees, and on the crest of the slope haggard spruce firs +still fight for life and mark, in their twisted and decaying timbers and +perishing boughs, the torment of the unsleeping wind. Great is the +contrast between these stricken ruins with death in their high tops, +and the sylva beneath sheltered by the granite hill. There beech and +pine are prosperous and sleek compared with the unhappy, time-foundered +wights above them; but if the spruces perish, they rule. The lesser +things are at their feet and the sublimity of their struggle--their +mournful but magnificent protest against destiny--makes one ignore the +sequestered woodland, where there is neither battle nor victory, but +comfortable, ignoble shelter and repose. The river kisses the feet of +these happy nonentities; they make many a stately arch and pillar along +the water; in spring the pigeon and the storm-thrush nest among their +branches; and they gleam with newly-opened foliage and shower their +silky shards upon the earth; in autumn they fling a harvest of sweet +beech mast around their feet. The seed germinates and thousands of +cotyledon leaves appear like fairy umbrellas, from the waste of the dead +leaves. The larger number of these seedlings perish, but some survive to +take their places in fulness of time. + +By falls and rapids, by flashing stickles and reaches of stillness, the +little river sinks to the heart of the glen; but first there is a +water-meadow under the hills where an old clapper-bridge flings its +rough span from side to side. This is of ancient date and has been more +than once restored against the ravages of flood since pack-horses +tramped that way in Tudor times. Here the streamlet rests awhile before +plunging down the steeps beyond and entering the true glen--a place of +shelving banks and many trees. + +In summer the dingle is a golden-green vision of tender light that +filters through the beeches. Here and there a sungleam, escaping the +net of the leaf, wins down to fall on mossy boulder and bole, or plunge +its shaft of brightness into a dark pool. Then the amber beam quivers +through the crystal to paint each pebble at the bottom and reveal the +dim, swift shades of the trout, that dart through it from darkness back +to darkness again. In autumn the freshets come and the winds awaken +until a storm of foliage hurtles through the glen, now pattering with +shrill whispers from above and taking the water gently; now whirling in +mad myriads, swirling and eddying, driven hither and thither by storm +until they bank upon some hillock, find harbour among holes and the +elbows of great roots, or plunge down into the turmoil of the stream. +The ways of the falling leaf are manifold, and as the rock delays the +river, so the trees, with trunk and bough, arrest the flying foliage, +bar its hurrying volume and deflect its tide. In winter the glen is +good, for then a man may escape the north wind here and, finding some +snug holt among the river rocks, mark the beauty about him while snow +begins to touch the tree-tops and the boughs are sighing. Then can be +contrasted the purple masses of sodden leaves with the splendour of the +mosses among which they lie; for now the minor vegetation gleams at +this, its hour of prime. It sheets every bank in a silver-green fabric +fretted with liquid jewels or ice diamonds; it builds plump knobs and +cushions on the granite, and some of the mosses, now in fruit, brush +their lustrous green with a wash of orange or crimson, where tiny +filaments rise densely to bear the seed. Here, also, dwelling among +them, flourishes that treasure of such secret nooks by stream-side, the +filmy fern, with transparent green vesture pressed to the +moisture-laden rocks. + +Man's handiwork is also manifested here; not only in the felled trees +and the clapper-bridge, but uniquely and delightfully; for where the +river quickens over a granite apron and hastens in a torrent of foam +away, the rocks have tongues and speak. He who planted this grove and +added beauty to a spot already beautiful, was followed by his son, who +caused to be carved inscriptions on the boulders. You may trace them +through the moss, or lichen, where the records, grown dim after nearly a +hundred years, still stand. It was a minister of the Church who amused +himself after this fashion; but in no religious spirit did he compose; +and the scattered poetry has a pleasant, pagan ring about it proper to +this haunt of Pan. + +Upon one great rock in the open, with its grey face to the south-west +and its feet deeply bedded in grass and sand, you shall with care +decipher these words:-- + + Sweet Poesy! fair Fancy's child! + Thy smiles imparadise the wild. + +Beside the boulder a willow stands, its finials budding with silver; +upon the north-western face of the stone is another inscription whose +legend startles a wayfarer on beholding the bulk of the huge mass. "This +stone was removed by a flood 17--." + +On the islets and by the pathway below, sharp eyes may discover other +inscribed stones, and upon one island, which the bygone poet called "The +Isle of Mona," there still exist inscriptions in "Bardic characters." +These he derived from the _Celtic Researches_ of Davies. Furnished with +the English letters corresponding to these symbols, one may, if +sufficiently curious, translate each distich as one finds it. Elsewhere, +beside the glen path, a sharp-eyed, little lover of Nature, tore the +coat of moss from another phrase that beat us both as we hunted through +the early dusk:-- + + Ye Naiads! venera + +This was the complete passage, and we puzzled not a little to solve its +meaning. On dipping into the past, however, I discovered that the +inscription was intended to have read as follows:-- + + Ye Naiads! venerate the swain + Who joined the Dryads to your train. + +The rhyme was designed to honour the poet's father, who set the forest +here; but accident must have stayed the stone-cutter's hand and left the +distich incomplete. + +And now a sudden flash of red aloft above the tree-tops told that the +sun was setting. Night thickened quickly, though the lamp of a great red +snow-cloud still hung above the glen long after I had left it. Beneath, +the mass of the beech wood took on wonderful colour and the streamlet, +emerging into meadows, flashed back the last glow of the sky. + + + + +A DEVON CROSS + +[Illustration: A DEVON CROSS.] + + +There are two orders of ancient human monuments on Dartmoor--the +prehistoric evidences of man's earliest occupation and the mediaeval +remains that date from Tudor times, or earlier. The Neolith has left his +cairns and pounds and hut circles, where once his lodges clustered upon +the hills. The other memorials are of a different character and chiefly +mark the time of the stannators, when alluvial tin abounded and the Moor +supported a larger population than it does to-day. Ruins of the smelting +houses and the piled debris of old tin-streaming works may be seen on +every hand, and the moulds into which molten tin was poured still lie in +hollows and ruins half hidden by the herbage. Here also, scattered +irregularly, the Christian symbol occurs, on wild heaths and lonely +hillsides, to mark some sacred place, indicate an ancient path, or guide +the wayfaring monk and friar of old on their journey by the Abbot's Way. + +Of these the most notable is that venerable fragment known as Siward's +Cross--a place of pilgrimage these many years. + +Now, on this day of March, snow-clouds swept the desert intermittently +with their grey veils and often blotted every landmark. At such times +one sought the little hillocks thrown up by vanished men and hid in some +hollow of the tin-streamers' digging to escape the pelt of the snow and +avoid the buffet of the squall that brought it. Then the sun broke up +the welter of hurrying grey and for a time the wind lulled and the brief +white shroud of the snow melted, save where it had banked against some +obstacle. + +The lonely hillock where stands Siward's Cross, or "Nun's Cross," as +Moormen call it, lies at a point a little above the western end of Fox +Tor Mire. The land slopes gently to it and from it; the great hills roll +round about. To the east a far distance opens very blue after the last +snow has fallen; to the south tower the featureless ridges of Cator's +Beam with the twin turrets of Fox Tor on their proper mount beneath +them. The beginnings of the famous mire are at hand--a region of +shattered peat-hags and morasses--where, torn to pieces, the earth gapes +in ruins and a thousand watercourses riddle it. All is dark and sere at +this season, for the dead grasses make the peat blacker by contrast. It +is a chaos of rent and riven earth ploughed and tunnelled by bogs and +waterways; while beyond this savage wilderness the planes of the hills +wind round in a semicircle and hem the cradle of the great marshes below +with firm ground and good "strolls" for cattle, when spring shall send +them in their thousands to the grazing lands of the Moor again. + +The sky shone blue by the time I reached the old cross and weak sunlight +brightened its familiar face. The relic stands seven feet high, and now +it held a vanishing patch of snow on each stumpy arm. Its weathered +front had made a home for flat and clinging lichens, grey as the granite +for the most part, yet warming to a pale gold sometimes. Once the cross +was broken and thrown in two pieces on the heath; but the wall-builders +spared it, for the monument had long been famous. Antiquarian interest +existed for the old relic, and it was mended with clamps of iron, and +lifted upon a boulder to occupy again its ancient site. + +For many a year experts puzzled to learn the meaning of the inscriptions +upon its face, and various conjectures concerning them had their day; +but it was left for our first Dartmoor authority, William Crossing, who +has said the last word on these remains, to decipher the worn +inscription and indicate its significance. He finds the word "Siward," +or "Syward," on the eastern side, and the word "Boc-lond," for +"Buckland," on the other, set in two lines under the incised cross that +distinguishes the western face of the monument. + +"Siward's Cross" is mentioned in the Perambulation of 1240. "It is +named," says Mr. Crossing, "in a deed of Amicia, Countess of Devon, +confirming the grant of certain lands for building and supporting the +Abbey of Buckland, among which were the manors of Buckland, Bickleigh +and Walkhampton. The latter manor abuts on Dartmoor Forest, and the +boundary line, which Siward's Cross marks at one of the points, is drawn +from Mistor to the Plym. The cross, therefore, in addition to being +considered a forest boundary mark, also became one to the lands of +Buckland Abbey, and I am convinced that the letters on it which have +been so variously interpreted simply represent the word 'Bocland.' The +name, as already stated, is engraved on the western face of the +cross--the side on which the monks' possessions lay." + +Elsewhere he observes that Siward's Cross, "standing as it does on the +line of the Abbot's Way, would seem not improbably to have been set up +by the monks of Tavistock as a mark to point out the direction of the +track across the Moor; and were it not for the fact that it has been +supposed to have obtained its name from Siward, Earl of Northumberland, +who, it is said, held property near this part of the Moor in the +Confessor's reign, I should have no hesitation in believing such to be +the case." + +No matter who first lifted it, still it stands--the largest cross on +Dartmoor--like a sentinel to guard the path that extended between the +religious houses of Plympton, Buckland and Tavistock. And other crosses +there are beyond the Mire, where an old road descended over Ter Hill. +But the Abbot's Way is tramped no more, and the princes of the Church, +with their men-at-arms and their mules and pack-horses, have passed into +forgotten time. Few now but the antiquary and holiday-maker wander to +Siward's Cross; or the fox-hunter gallops past it; or the folk, when +they tramp to the heights for purple harvest of "hurts" in summer-time. +The stone that won the blessings of pious men, only comforts a heifer +to-day; she rubs her side against it and leaves a strand of her red hair +caught in the lichens. + +The snow began to fall more heavily and the wind increased. Therefore I +turned north and left that local sanctity from olden time, well pleased +to have seen it once again in the stern theatre of winter. It soon +shrank to a grey smudge on the waste; then snow-wreaths whirled their +arms about it and the emblem vanished. + + + + +COOMBE + +[Illustration: COOMBE.] + + +Life comes laden still with good days that whisper of romance, when in +some haunt of old legend, our feet loiter for a little before we pass +forward again. I indeed seek these places, and confess an incurable +affection for romance in my thoughts if not my deeds. I would not banish +her from art, or life; and though most artists of to-day will have none +of her, spurn romantic and classic alike, and take only realism to their +bosoms; yet who shall declare that realism is the last word, or that +reality belongs to her drab categories alone? + +"There is no 'reality' for us--nor for you either, ye sober ones, and we +are far from being so alien to one another as ye suppose, and perhaps +our goodwill to get beyond drunkenness is just as respectable as your +belief that ye are altogether _incapable_ of drunkenness." + +A return to romance most surely awaits literature, when our artists have +digested the new conditions and discovered the magic and mystery that +belong to newly created things--whether Nature or her human child has +made them; but for the moment, those changes that to-day build +revolution, stone on stone, demand great seers to record the romantic +splendour of their promise, sing justly of all that science is doing, +write the epic of our widening view and show man leading the lightning +chained in his latest triumph. For us, who cannot measure such visions, +there remains Nature--the incurable romantic--who retains her early +methods, loves the sword better than the pruning-hook, and still +sometimes strikes jealously at her sophisticated child, who has learned +to substitute a thousand wants for the simple needs that she could +gratify. + +At Coombe, on the coast of North Cornwall, there yet lies a nest of old +romance, wherein move, for dream-loving folk, the shadows of an old-time +tale. Nature reigns unchanged in the valley and her processions and +pageants keep their punctual time and place; but once a story-teller +came hither, and the direct, genial art of a brave spirit found +inspiration here. From this secluded theatre sprang _Westward Ho!_ and +none denies willing tribute to him who made that book. + +Seen on this stormy December day with a north-wester raging off the sea +and the wind turning the forest music to "a hurricane of harps," Coombe +Valley lives with music and movement. Far away in the gap eastward rises +a blue mound with Kilkhampton Church-tower perched thereon, and thence, +by winding woods, the way opens to the historic mill. Full of tender +colour are the tree-clad hills--a robe of grey and amber and amethyst, +jewelled here and there, where the last of the leaves still hang. +Wind-beaten oak and larch, beech and ash twine their arms together and +make a great commotion where the woven texture of their boughs is +swaying and bending. Their yield and swing challenge the grey daylight, +and it plays upon them and flings a tracery of swift brightness over the +forest. The light is never still, but trembles upon the transparent +woods, so that every movement of their great mass wins an answering +movement from the illumination that reveals them. Beneath, under the +tremulous curtain and visible through its throbbing, lies the earth's +bosom, all brown with fallen leaves. It swells firm and solid under +restless branch and bough, and listens to the great song of the trees. +Sometimes a sunburst from the sky touches the woodland, and the ramage +aloft sparkles like a gauze of silver over the russet and gold beneath. + +In the heart of the valley there runs a river, and, freed from her work, +the mill-stream leaps to join it. The mill-wheel thunders, as it did +when little Rose Salterne set stout hearts beating and dreamed dreams, +wherein no sorrow homed or horror whispered. But time has not forgotten +Coombe Mill, and, to one who may love flowers, the evidence of progress +chiefly lies among them. There is a garden here and many a plant, that +had not yet faced the buffets of an English winter when Kingsley's +heroine tended her clove-pinks and violets, now thrives contented in +this little garth. + +Beside the mill-pond, flogged by the December storm, Kaffir lilies wave +their crimson and the red fuchsia flourishes. A bush of golden eleagnus +is happy, and a shrubby speedwell thrives beside it; honeysuckles climb +to the thatch of the white-washed homestead; a rambler rose hangs out +its last blossoms; and a yellow jasmine also blooms upon the wall. +Marigolds and lavender and blue periwinkles trail together in a bright +wreath against the darkness of the water-wheel; there are stocks and +Michaelmas daisies, too, with the silver discs of honesty and the fading +green of tamarisk. + +Many suchlike things flourish in this cradle of low hills, for winter is +a light matter here, and great cold never comes to them. They push +forth and creep into the lanes and hedges; they find the water-meadows +and love the shelter of the apple trees and the brink of the stream. + +Beside the mill there towers a great ivy-tod in fruit, and rises the +weathered mill-house, stoutly built to bear the strain within. Once +granite mill-wheels ground the corn, but now their day is over and they +repose, flower crowned, in the hedges outside. The eternal splashing of +water has painted a dark stain here, and ferns have found foothold. One +great hart's tongue lolls fifty wet green leaves out from the gloom of +the wheel-chamber. + +All is movement and bustle; the mill-stream races away to the river, and +the river to the sea. The tree-tops bend and cry; the clouds tell of the +gale overhead, now thinning to let the sunshine out, now darkening under +a sudden squall and dropping a hurtle of hail. + +From the mill-pool to the west opened another vision of meadows with a +little grey bridge in the midst of them. Hither winds the stream, trout +in every hover, and the brown hills rise on either side, barren and +storm-beaten. Then, at the mouth of the land between them, a great +welter of white foam fills the gap, for the storm has beaten the sea +mad, and the roar of it ascends in unbroken thunder over the meadows. +Behind the meeting-place of land and ocean, there roll the lashed and +stricken seas, all dim and grey; and their herds are brightened with +sunshine or darkened by cloud, as the wind heaves them to shore. But +there is no horizon from which we can trace them. They emerge wildly out +of the flying scud of cloud that presses down upon the waters. + + + + +OLD DELABOLE + +[Illustration: OLD DELABOLE.] + + +Where low and treeless hills roll out to the cliffs, and the gulls cry +their sea message over farms and fields, a mighty mouth opens upon the +midst of the land and gapes five hundred feet into the earth. In shape +of a crater it yawns, and its many-coloured cliffs slope from the +surface inwards. The great cup is chased and jewelled. Round it run many +galleries, some deserted, some alive with workers. Like threads of light +they circle it, now opening upon the sides of the rounded cliffs, now +suspended in air under perpendicular precipices. In the midst is the +quarter-mile incline that descends to the heart of the cup and connects +the works above with the works below; and elsewhere are other gentle +acclivities, where moraines of fallen stone ooze out in great cones +beneath the cliffs. Under them stand square black objects, dwarfed to +the size of match-boxes, which wrestle with this huge accumulation of +over-burden. Steam puffs from the machines; they thrust their scoops +into the fallen mass; at each dig they pick up a ton and a half of +rubbish and then deposit it in a trolley that waits for the load hard +by. A network of tram-lines branches every way in the bottom of the cup, +and extends its fingers to the points of attack; and where they end--at +smudges of silver-grey scattered about the bottom of the quarry--there +creep little atoms, like mites on a cheese. + +Centuries have bedecked and adorned the sides of this stupendous pit; +and while naked sheets and planes of colour, the work of recent years, +still gleam starkly, all innocent of blade and leaf, elsewhere in +deserted galleries and among cliff-faces torn bare by vanished +generations of men, green things have made their home and flourished +with luxuriance, to the eternal drip of surface water. Ferns and +foxgloves and a thousand lesser plants thrive in niches and crevices of +the stone; and there is a splendid passage of flame, where the mimulus +has found its way by some rivulet into the quarry, and sheets a +precipice with gold. + +By steps and scarps the sides fall, narrowing always to the bottom; but +the cliff planes are huge enough for sunshine and shadow to paint +wonderful pictures upon them and find the colours--the olive and blue +and mossy green, or the great splashes and patches of rose and russet +that make harmony there. They melt together brokenly; and sometimes they +are fretted with darkness and spotted with caverns, or mottled and +zigzagged by rusty percolations of iron. + +One noble cliff falls sheer five hundred feet to a wilderness of rock, +and across its huge front there hang aerial threads, like gossamers, +while at its crown black wheels and chimneys tower into the sky. Below, +upon the bluff of a crag, there turns a wheel, and a great pump, with +intermittent jolt and grunt, sucks the water from the bottom of the +quarry and sends it to tanks up aloft. This machine, with its network of +arms and wheels, hangs very black on the cliff-side, and a note of black +is also carried into the midst of the grey and rosy cliff-faces by +little wheels that hang from the gossamers and tiny threads depending +from them. They drop to the mites in the silver-grey cheese beneath, and +from time to time masses and wedges of nearly two tons weight are +hoisted upward and float through the air to the surface, like +thistle-down. + +The quarry is full of noises--the clank of the pumps, the rattle of the +trucks, the hiss of pneumatic and steam drills, the clink of tampers and +the rumble and rattle of the great rocks dislodged by crowbars from the +cliffs. Men shout, too, and their voices are as the drone of little +gnats; but sometimes, at the hour of blasting, an immense volume of +sound is liberated, and the thunder of the explosion crashes round and +round the cup and wakes a war of echoes thrown from cliff to cliff. + +Once there were dwellings within the cup; but the needs of the quarry +caused their destruction, and now but two cottages remain. The ragged +cliff-edges creep towards them, and they will soon vanish, after +standing for a hundred years. + +Everywhere the precious stone, now silver-green, now silver-grey, is +being dragged up the great incline, or wafted through air to the workers +above; and once aloft, another army of men and boys set to work upon it +and split and hack and chop and square it into usefulness. On all sides +the midgets are burrowing below and wrestling with the stone above; +thousands of tons leave the works weekly, and yet such is the immensity +of the mass, that the sides of the quarry seem hardly changed from year +to year. For more than three hundred and fifty years has man delved at +Old Delabole. Elizabethans worked its rare slate; and since their time, +labouring ceaselessly, we have scratched out this stupendous hole and +covered our habitations therefrom, through the length and breadth of +the United Kingdom. Cathedrals and cottages alike send to Delabole for +their slates; there are extant buildings with roofs two hundred years +old, that show no crack or flaw; while more ancient than the stones that +cover man's home must be those that mark his grave, and Delabole slates +in churchyards, or on church walls, might doubtless be found dating from +Tudor times. + +Five hundred men and boys are employed at Old Delabole, and their homes +cluster in the little village without the works. Their type is Celtic, +but many very blonde, high-coloured men labour here. All are polite, +easy, and kindly; all appear to find their work interesting and take +pleasure in explaining its nature to those who may be interested. The +slate fills countless uses besides that of roofing, and the methods of +cleaving and cutting it cannot easily be described. Steam plays its +part, and the masses are reduced to manageable size by steel saws which +slip swiftly through them; then workmen tackle the imperishable stuff, +and with chisel and mallet split the sections thinner and thinner. It +comes away wonderfully true, and a mass of stone gives off flake after +flake until the solid rock has turned into a pile of dark grey slates, +clean and bright of cleavage and ready for the roof. Green-grey or +"abbey-grey" is the mass of the quarry output; but a generous production +of "green" is also claimed. This fine stuff runs in certain veins, and +offers a tone very beautiful and pleasant to the eye. Lastly, there are +the reds--jewels among slates--that shine with russet and purple. This +stone is rare, and can only be quarried in small quantities. All +varieties have the slightest porosity, and take their places among the +most distinguished slates in the world. + + + + +TINTAGEL + + +Ragged curtains of castellated stone climb up the northern side of a +promontory and stretch their worn and fretted grey across the sea and +sky. They are pierced with a Norman door, and beyond them there spreads +a blue sea to the horizon; above it shines a summer sky, against whose +blue and silver the ruin sparkles brightly. Beneath, a little bay opens, +and the dark cliffs about it are fringed with foam; while beyond, "by +Bude and Bos," the grand coastline is flung out hugely, cliff on cliff +and ness on ness, until Hartland lies like a cloud on the sea and little +Lundy peeps above the waters. Direct sunshine penetrates the haze from +point to point, now bringing this headland out from among its +neighbours, now accentuating the rocky islands, or flashing on some +sea-bird's wing. + +Shadow, too, plays its own sleight; the cliff that was sun-kissed fades +and glooms, while the scarps and planes before shaded, shine out again +and spread their splendour along the sea. Light and darkness race over +the waves also, and now the fringes of foam flash far off in the +sunshine and streak the distant bases of earth; now they are no more +seen, when the cloud shadows dim their whiteness and spread purple on +the blue. + +A ewe and her lamb come through the gateway in the castle wall. They +share the green slopes with me and browse along together. Overhead the +gulls glide and a robber gull chases a jackdaw, who carries a lump of +bread or fat in his beak. The gull presses hard upon the smaller bird, +and Jack at last, after many a turn and twist, drops his treasure. +Whereupon the gull dives downward and catches it in mid-air before it +has fallen a dozen yards. + +The flora on these crags is interesting, though of little diversity. +Familiar grasses there are, with plantain and sheep's sorrel, the silene +and cushion pink, the pennywort and blue jasione, the lotus and +eye-bright; but unsleeping winds from the west affect them as altitude +dwarfs the alpines, and these things, though perfect and healthy and +fair to see, are reduced to exquisite miniatures, where they nestle in +the crannies of the rocks and flash their pink and white, or blue and +gold, against the grey and orange lichens that wash the stones with +colour and climb the ruin in the midst. + +In sheltered nooks the foxglove nods, but he, too, is dwarfed, yet seems +to win a solid splendour of bells and intensity of tint from his +environment. + +Other castle fragments there are--scattered here and on the neighbour +cliff to the east; but they are of small account--no more than the +stumps of vanished ramparts and walls. Even so, they stood before any +word was printed concerning them, or pictures made. An ancient etching +of more than two hundred years old shows that their fragments were then +as now, and only doubtful tradition furnishes the historian with any +data. + +But the castle is perched on a noble crag, whose strata of marble and +slate and silver quartz slope from east to west downward until they +round into sea-worn bosses and dip under the blue. The story of +gigantic upheavals is written here, and the weathered rocks are cleft +and serrated and full of wonderful convolutions for dawn and dusk to +play upon. Here more wild flowers find foothold, and the wild bird makes +her home. The cliffs are crested with samphire, and the white umbels of +the carrot; they are brushed with the pale lemon of anthyllis, and the +starry whiteness of the campion; they are honeycombed beneath by +caverns, where the sea growls on calm days and thunders in time of +storm. + +Westward of the mount, guarding the only spot where boat can land from +these perilous waters, a fragment of the ruin still holds up above the +little bay, within bow-shot of any adventurous bark that would brave a +landing. + +Here is all that is left of the last castle on this famous headland. Of +the so-called "Arthurian" localities, the most interesting and richest +in tradition is that of North Cornwall, and at its centre lie these +ancient strongholds. In addition to the Castle of Tintagel one finds +King Arthur's Hall and Hunting Seat, his bed and his cups and saucers, +his tomb and his grave. + +It is a long and intricate story, and none may say what fragment of +reality homes behind the accumulated masses of myth and legend. With the +bards of the sixth century and those that followed them we find the +English beginnings of Arthur and his celebration as a first-class +fighting man. Then it would seem he disappeared for a while, and takes +no place, either in history or romance, until the ninth century. In 858, +however, one Nennius, a Briton, made a history of the hero, some three +centuries after his supposed death in 542. The "magnanimous Arthur" of +Nennius fought against the Saxons, and, amid many more noble than +himself, was twelve times chosen commander of his race. The Britons, we +learn, conquered as often as he led them to war; and in his final and +mightiest battle--that of Badon Hill--we are to believe that 940 of the +enemy fell by Arthur's hand alone--a Homeric achievement, unassisted +save by the watching Lord. Thereafter his activities ranged over other +of the Arthurian theatres and campaigns before he died at Camlan. + +But alas for song! From Geoffrey of Monmouth to Tennyson, that last +prodigious battle on the Camel has been the joy of poetry, and the +mighty adventure between Arthur and Mordred has been told and retold a +thousand times; yet if those warriors ever did meet, it was certainly in +Scotland, and not Cornwall, that the encounter took place. Camlan is +Camelon in the Valley of the Forth, and here a tolerably safe tradition +tells that the King of the Picts, with his Scots and Saxons, defeated +the Britons and slew their King. + +Leland reported to Henry VII. that "This castle hath been a marvellous +strong fortress and almost _situ in loco_ inexpugnabile, especially from +the dungeon that is on a great and terrabil crag environed with the se, +but having a drawbridge from the residue of the castel on to it. Shepe +now feed within the dungeon." + +That Arthur was begotten at Tintagel we may please to believe; but that +he died far from the land of his birth seems sure. + +As for the existing ruin, it springs from that of the castle which saw +the meeting of Arthur's parents, Uther Pendragon and the fair Igraine; +but the original British building has long since vanished, and the +present remains, dating from the Norman Conquest, did not rise until six +hundred years later than the hero's death. An old Cornish tradition +declares that Arthur's mighty spirit passed into a Cornish chough, and +in the guise of that beautiful crow with the scarlet beak, still haunts +the ruins of his birthplace. + + + + +A CORNISH CROSS + +[Illustration: A CORNISH CROSS.] + + +Kerning corn waved to the walls of the little churchyard and spread a +golden foreground for the squat grey mass of the church that rose behind +it. The building stood out brightly, ringed with oak and sycamore, and +the turrets of the tower barely surmounted the foliage wrapped about it. +Rayed in summer green the trees encircled church and burying-ground with +shade so dense that the sun could scarce throw a gleam upon the graves. +They lay close and girdled the building with mounds of grass and slabs +of slate and marble. The dripping of the trees had stained the stones +and cushions of moss flourished upon them. Here was the life of the +hamlet written in customary records of triumphant age, failures of +youth, death of children--all huddled together with that implicit pathos +of dates that every churchyard holds. + +But more ancient than any recorded grave, more venerable than the church +itself, a granite cross ascended among the tombs. Centuries had +weathered the stone so that every angle of its rounded head and +four-sided shaft was softened. Time had wrought on the granite mass, as +well as man, and fingering the relic through the ages, had blurred every +line of the form, set grey lichens on the little head of the Christ that +hung there and splashed the shaft with living russet and silver and +jade-green. The old cross rose nine feet high, its simple form clothed +in a harmony of colours beautiful and delicate. The arms were filled +with a carved figure of primitive type and a carmine vegetation washed +the rough surfaces and outlined the human shape set in its small tunic +stiffly there. Green moss covered the head of the cross and incised +patterns decorated its sides to within a foot or two of the grass by a +churchyard path from which it sprang. + +The design was of great distinction and I stood before one of the finest +monuments in Cornwall. On the north side ran a zigzag; while to the +south a more elaborate key-pattern was struck into the stone--a design +of triangles enfolding each other. The back held the outline of a square +filled with a cross and a shut semicircle carved beneath; while upon the +face, under the head which contained the figure, there occurred another +square with a cross. The shaft upon this side was adorned with the +outline of a tall jug, or ewer, from which sprang the conventional +symbol for a lily flower. + +There was another detail upon the southern side which seemed to lift +this aged stone back into the mists of a past still more remote, for +there, just above the ground, might be read the fragment of an +inscription in debased Latin capitals. They were no longer decipherable +save for the solitary word "FILIUS" which was easily to be +distinguished, and this fragment of an obliterated inscription spoke +concerning a period earlier by centuries than the carving and +decoration. Indeed it indicated that the memorial was a palimpsest--a +pre-Christian pillar-stone transformed at a later age to its present +significance. + +There are above three hundred old crosses still standing in Cornwall, +and not a few of these, dating from time beyond the Roman period, +originally marked the burying-places of the pagan dead. At a later +period, long after their original erection, they were mutilated. But the +greater number of these grand stones belong to Christianity, and by +their varied decorations the age of them may approximately be learned. + +Some bear the _Chi Rho_ monogram, which stands for the first two letters +of the Greek "Christos," and these belong to the seventh century; but +the more numerous appear to date from that later period when the sacred +figure of the Christ began to be substituted in religious architecture +for the symbolic lamb that always preceded it. The Eastern Church +authorised this innovation, after A.D. 683, and pronounced that "The +Lamb of Christ, our Lord, be set up in human shape on images henceforth, +instead of the Lamb formerly used." The earliest type is not +particularly human, however, and the little, archaic, shirted doll of +Byzantine pattern, which ornaments so many of these Cornish crosses, has +not much save archaeological interest to commend it. Until Gothic times +this was the conventional pattern, and it is assumed that these early +crucifixes dated from the eighth century and onward until a more +naturalistic figure began to appear. + +Scattered over the far-flung landscape of the West our Cornish crosses +stand; by meadow and tilth and copse, among the little hamlets of the +peninsula, in lonely heaths and waste places overrun by wild growing +things, they shall be found. Sometimes the Atlantic is their background +and sometimes the waters of the Channel. They were set on the roads that +led to the churches, and served not only as places for prayer, but also +as sign-posts on the church-ways. Now many of the more splendid +specimens have been rescued, as in the case of this great cross, and +stand in churchyards, or under the shadow of sanctified buildings. Their +fragments are also scattered over the land, here set in walls, here at +cross-roads, now as a gate-post, or a stepping-stone, or foot-bridge. +Sometimes they serve for boundary stones, and are yearly beaten; +occasionally they support a sundial; not seldom the Ordnance Surveyors +have outraged them with bench marks. Often only the stunted head and +limbs of the wheel-crosses remain, their shafts vanished forever; still +more frequently the cross-bases or pedestals alone have been chronicled +and the stones that surmounted them exist no longer. None can say how +numerous they were of old time; and it may happen, while many have been +destroyed past recovery or restoration, that others still exist in +obscure places, or sheltered by the saving earth, for a future race of +antiquaries to discover and reclaim. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A West Country Pilgrimage, by Eden Phillpots + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WEST COUNTRY PILGRIMAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 36967.txt or 36967.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/9/6/36967/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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