Highways and Byways

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Chapter II

To those who delight in searching for the picturesqueness of bygone days, it is a little disappointing to discover that in this corner of Devon the harbours are all choked up. For in the two Western counties, so deeply indented by the sea, fronting to both channels, renowned throughout all history both for the number and the quality of their seamen, all that is best and greatest has settled on the seaboard, and unites itself with the coming and the going of ships. There was a time when shipping entered freely into East Devon ; but that is so very long ago that the tale is more for the archaeologist than for the ordinary reader.

It is melancholy when one climbs down the steep hill barrier by which the Valley of the Axe is approached from Lyme, to see this wide and open river bottom, so obviously designed by Nature to hold a navy, occupied by marshy river meadows, while the stream, which higher up its course flashes swiftly over a gravelly bed, seems here to have lost its strength, and crawls slowly on beneath the hill, powerless to carry down its silt, or sweep seawards the pebbles which the ocean tosses up. There needs no history to tell us that this was once a place of consequence. At a glance it shows its wasted value, proclaiming loudly how great a part it might have played in the story of England had its waters not been choked and its citizens condemned to idleness when there was need of sailors. As it is,

Chap. II The Estuary Of The Axe 19

full four centuries have passed since any active life existed here. When Leland rode this way in the reign of Henry VIII., he could only say, "Ther hath been a very notable haven at Seaton, but now ther lyith between the two points of the old haven a mighty rigge and barre of pible stones in the very mouth of it, and the River Axe is driven to the very est point of the haven cauUid Whitclif, and ther at a very small gut goith into the sea ; and ther come in small fisschar boats for Boccur." So far the port had fallen three centuries ago and more, for want of such protective work as the townsmen were too idle or too unskilled t© undertake. Perhaps it was even then too late to save the harbour ; and certainly now the time has long gone by when any useful effort could be made. Yet only in the present century the farmers in the district, moved perhaps by a sense of the advantages of water carriage, but more strongly by a certain pride in the ancient maritime consequence of their river, which lingers with curious tenacity even after all these centuries, agreed to dig it out, and restore its glories. Entering on this gigantic undertaking without any true sense of its difficulty they sent each so many of his own farm labourers, and had actually made some progress, when there came a flood great enough to destroy all that had been done, and the farmers, not perhaps unwillingly, abandoned the unequal task. There is something admirable and rather pathetic in the spectacle of these rustics setting themselves so boldly to a public work whose difficulties would tax the genius of our greatest engineers; and though it failed, so great an effort of public spirit deserves to be commemorated.

The last occasion on which Seaton influenced the life of England seems to have been in 1347, when the town contributed two ships to. the fleet with which Edward III. set sail for Calais. If one seeks for other associations, it is necessary to go back much further, deserting the trodden ways of history for the mire of archaeological discussion. Indeed, this valley is one over which the antiquaries have gathered like a cloud of

c a to SEATON AND ITS PEDIGREE chap.

vultures, and inasmuch as no visitor to Seaton will be allowed to escape scot free, it may be just as well to say what all the pother is about.

Nobody who walks along the esplanade at Seaton — unless indeed he is wisely giving all his attention to the cliffs and sea and the fine inland hills — can fail to see the word " Moridunum" written up in large letters on the stone work; and most people who have noticed it have probably been rash enough to inquire what it means. This question is what the Seatonian has been waiting for. He will promptly buttonhole you, and explain that there is an ancient document called **Antoninc'H Itinerary," which was in truth to the Roman legions very much what "Patterson's Roads" was to the modern traveller, giving him some more or less accurate ideas of the distances he had to march and the stations he would pass in this far-distant land of Britain. Now of these stations Exeter has been recognised ; and further east is another named "Moridunum," a name over whose signification the quarrel burst out. The older antiquaries, a very credulous set of people full of wild ideas and speculations, decided that " mor " meant " sea," and having settled this, identified Seaton as the Roman station. Other more careful inquirers, since their time, have come to different conclusions, but the Seatonians will not hear of them, and maintain that in the first two centuries of our era their waste harbour was alive with the coming and going of frequent Roman galleys. We had better leave them to fight out the dispute among themselves ; but before passing on it may be said that in this corner of Devon there are almost the only signs of any long- settled Roman occupation which exist west of Somersetshire. Indeed the scarcity of such remains in the former county contrasts strangely with their frequency up to the very border of the latter, and points without doubt to some marked difference in the nature of the dominion exercised by the invaders in the west.

Whatever Seaton may or may not have been in bygone days,

II SEATON AND BEER 21

it is now a pleasant breezy watering place, neither so beautiful nor so interesting as many other towns further west, but noted all along the coast for the freshness of its breezes and its open situation. For the two white cliffs which terminate its bay lie far apart, and the sea winds sweep up the wide valley without hindrance, creating a climate which is brisk and stimulating. The little place is unsophisticated too, — a long beach, a pebble ridge on which half a dozen boats lie bottom upwards, a few sailors lounging round them, a good hotel, a couple of streets running to a point — there is nothing more in Seaton ; and in search of active memories one strolls on to Beer.

The pleiasantest way from Seaton to Beer is over the western cliff by a steep and broken path. From the summit of this crumbling white chalk bluff there is a singularly fine view up the valley of the Axe, winding in dim luxuriance till it is lost among the hills of Shute ; and one has scarcely turned away from this rich prospect of inland beauty before the path drops rapidly to a deep and narrow cove, hardly seen until one is immediately above it, and suggesting irresistibly by the seclusion of its situation certain pursuits which brought to the fishermen of Beer for many generations more profit than favour in the eye of the law. There is Vio harm in speaking of these matters now; for Beer has been this many a day like the sinner that repenteth, and is rather pleased to detail its former transgressions, feeling perhaps that a certain spice of devilry handed down from former days is an agreeable relief to the more prosaic occupations of the present time. But it is certainly not more than fifty years since the whole community of Beer — men, women, and children all alike — was desperately addicted to smuggling, and found its glory and its chief delight in eluding the vigilance of the revenue officers ; and it is a curious instance of the changed conditions of life in England that law, which never was otherwise than reluctantly obeyed on the western coasts of England until the present century was far advanced, has at last succeeded in tying down the restless

« A COMMUNITY OF SMUGGLERS chap.

energies of the men and women of Beer to the peaceful pursuits of trawling and the manufacture of lace.

Beer, like many other places, bred its hero, one whose wiles were as many as those of Ulysses, and who bids fair to obtain, at least on the South Devon coast, an equal length of memory. " Jack Rattenbury " was his name ; and it fortunately happened that he kept a journal, which was published some fifty years ago, so that we are fully instructed, not only about Jack's engaging character as it appeared in his own not too critical eyes, but also about many other circumstances which cast light on the wild life of those times.

" I bought a vessel," Jack says, " for smuggling, in which I made three successful voyages to Alderney ; and on my return from the last, thinking all was safe, I went on shore with a few friends to spend an hour at a public-house. In the same room were a sergeant and several privates of the South Devon Militia, and also some horse soldiers, amounting on the whole to some nine or ten in number. After drinking two or three pots of beer, the sergeant, whose name was Hill, having heard my name mentioned by some of my companions, went out with his men, and soon they returned again, having armed themselves with swords and muskefs. The sergeant then advanced towards me and said, *You are my prisoner. You are a deserter, and must go along with me.' For a moment I was much terrified, knowing that if I was taken I should, in all probability, be obliged to go aboard the fleet ; and this wrought up my mind to a pitch of desperation. I endeavoured, however, to keep as cool as possible ; and in answer to his charge, I said, * Sergeant, you are surely labouring under an error ; I have done nothing that can authorise you in taking me up or detaining me. You must certainly have mistaken me for some other person.' In this manner I contrived to draw him into a parley ; and while it was going on I jumped into the cellar. I then threw off my jacket and shirt, to prevent any one from holding me, and having armed myself with a reap-hook

II A JOVIAL LAWBREAKER 23

and a knife, which I had in my pocket, I threw myself into an attitude of defence at the entrance, which was a half-hatch door, the lower part of which I shut, and then declared that I would kill the first man that came near me, and that I would not be taken from the spot alive. At this the sergeant was evidently terrified ; but he said to his men, * Soldiers, do your duty ; advance and seize him.' To which they replied, * Sergeant, you proposed it ; take the lead and set us an example, and we will follow.' No one, however, offered to advance, and I remained in the position I have described for four hours, holding them at bay. Not knowing how to act, the sergeant at last sent for Lieutenant Durall ; but before he arrived, some women ran into the house with a story that there was a vessel drifted ashore, and a boy in danger of being drowned. This tale they told in such a natural manner, that it attracted the attention of the sergeant and his men ; and while they were listening and making inquiries about it, I jumped over the hatch, and rushed through the midst of them, without their being able to lay fast hold on me, in consequence of the precaution which I had taken to lay aside my clothes. I then ran toward the beach, and some men got me into a boat and conveyed me on board the vessel, where I immediately hoisted the colours."

It is an agreeable picture which Jack draws for us, and one sees how important was the part which the women played when their husbands were in peril. This kind of thing was going on not only at Beer, but at every creek and inlet on the coast ; and as what Jack tells us is thus typical of the scenes enacted at many other places, where for want of a chronicler the memory of them is lost, we may find space for another of his stories, one, moreover, which shows how lustily his wife could help him on occasion.

Jack, it seems, had grown tired of smuggling, and tried to gain an honest living in a public-house. But fortune was against him and drove him back on the career for which his

24 SOME REGRETTABLE INCIDENTS chap

natural gifts so plainly marked him out. It was in 1812, not long after he had taken to the sea again, asking only to be let alone that he might regain what the pursuit of honesty had cost him, that he was chased, cannonaded, and captured by a meddling cruiser stationed in Torbay to convoy the Brixham fishing fleet, but which left her proper duty in order to capture Jack. There was some difficulty in doing this ; and the commander of the cruiser was therefore the more enraged to find nothing more compromising in his prize than a pint of gin in a bottle. Jack affected indignation. " I said, * You have treated us shamefully. You have taken my vessel on the high seas and retained it, though you found nothing on board to justify you on being so ; and it is, I conceive, an act of piracy.' To this he replied, *I care nothing about it.' My wife, hearing of my situation, came on board. Our interview was short, but long enough for me to entreat her to get a good boat and come off to me next morning. When she came the second mate had charge of the vessel, the other officers being on shore, which was favourable to my design. As soon as she was alongside I jumped into the boat, and made a motion to my companions to do the same, that we might assist the women on board. One of them did so, and I whispered to him to wait till they were all out of the boat ; and immediately on this, I called out aloud, * Shove off.' I then put my oar against the side of the vessel, but the second mate caught hold of it and broke off the blade. Being very angry, I threw the remaining part at him, and called to my companions to hoist the sail. He exclaimed, *If you do, I'll fire at you.' To which I replied, * Make sure of your mark.' At this he fired, and the shot went through the sails. He was preparing to do so again when my wife wrested the piece out of his hands. Having recovered it he fired again, and the shot striking the rope of the sail, it fell down. He then stopped firing, thinking that we were sufficiently frightened to induce us to return on board ; but in the meantime we had hoisted the sail up again

II A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE 25

and pushed off. They then got the boat out and chased us, keeping up a continual fire at us ; but though the sails were full of shot holes, none of the men received any injury. We put in at a promontory called Bob's Nose ; ^ my companions jumped out ; I was the last man, having steered the boat ; and as I was in the act of doing so a shot passed close to my head, but did not touch me.

" As soon as I got on shore I scrambled up the cliffs, and when I had reached the top I looked back, but could see no one. I then took off my jacket and left it, thinking if they met it they would suppose I had thrown it off to facilitate my speed in getting away. After this I rolled myself down the cliffs, not far from where we landed. At the same time I saw our pursuers following my companions, and several hundred people on Brixham Cliffs looking on. About one o'clock I saw the men belonging to the brig go by and embark, and when all seemed quiet, I started over hedges, fields, and ditches, and got safely to Torquay."

Such was the smuggling life of the western counties within the lifetime of our fathers, or, to speak more accurately, such was one aspect of it. For the west country smugglers were not all Jack Rattenburys ; and this jovial, good-tempered duel with the law, this wrestling without ugly throws, this fencing with the buttons on the foils, was by no means the whole story. The play was very often in most deadly earnest, as was natural, seeing that the players were men whose fathers, for centuries untold, had imbibed the fierce traditions of a race of wild sea rovers. Corsairs were their ancestors, and just as we go round the coast, gloating on smuggling stories, so they dwelt with equal glee on the traditions which were then plentiful and living, of Vaughan the pirate, and of Captain Hamond, and of Clinton Atkinson, whose deeds are now forgotten, but were known then to the very children.

^ Surely he means " Hope's Nose," for which he would naturally make as he was escaping from Brixham.

26 THE VALLEY OF THE AXE chap.

There will be more to say of some of these people presently. But for the moment we have lingered long enough upon the coast, and we cannot move on to Sidmouth without going up the valley of the Axe, even if it be no further than to Shute, whose dark fir woods catch the eye from every side standing heavily against the sky line. There would be much to say about this fine valley, had we time to climb the slopes of Hawksdown, Musbury, and half a dozen other hills whose crests are topped by very ancient earth-works, or to gather up the memories of the bloody deeds which Jeffreys wrought among the farms and cottages when fugitives from Sedgemoor came slinking homewards through the dusk of the short summer nights. But these scenes are best forgotten; and indeed they seem strangely remote from a land which smiles as this does with springing com and budding apple blossom, and late primroses and early bluebells in the hedges, while the anglers go up and down the low margin of the river — no brawling hasty stream, like those which tumble over boulders from the moor, but a sedate and quiet water, well loved by those who know it best. There are many interesting places on its banks ; Colyford, that ancient borough of some fifteen houses, which confers upon its mayor the least onerous dignity in England ; Colyton, which has a remarkable church ; Colcombe Castle, where dwelt Sir William Pole, that great antiquary on whose work most of the Devon history is founded ; and at no great distance Shute, which still belongs to the descendants of the antiquary, and is in itself a place of interest and note.

At the base of the pine-clad hill which was so conspicuous from the coast, stands an ancient gatehouse, picturesquely draped with ivy, giving entrance to a park within which lies the manor house, " Old Shute House," as it is called, in distinction from the more modern dwelling which was built a century ago on an eminence some half a mile away. The old house is a handsome Tudor building, worn and weather-beaten, but still standing almost as perfect as it was four centuries ago.

II SHUTE HOUSE 27

High battlemented walls inclose a gray stone courtyard, antique and beautiful, where heavy mullioned windows, which once looked out on knights and gallant gentlemen dismounting, now behold only the farmer's dog stretching himself on the sunny stones, or a rough farm pony clattering under the silent archway.

Here the family of De la Pole has dwelt for three centuries and more since the great Sir William lived. Before them Shute was ruled by the turbulent family of Bonvile, who, in this secluded spot, conspired with such vigour for the Yorkist party that the house became the headquarters of the White Rose in the west. They appealed to the sword, and by it they perished. Lord Bonvile fell in the second battle of St. Albans ; his son and grandson were slain at Wakefield. One can imagine how the news was brought to what was thenceforth a house of mourning, for the male line was extinct, and one frail girl remained to carry on the great inheritance. One might roam the whole day long among the woods of Shute, or around its very ancient deer-park, without exhausting its associations, which, indeed, go back to days far more ancient than are mentioned here. But we cannot stay to trace them. The ancient gatehouse, the old church, half hidden by its stately cedars, the deer-park, and the hospitable modern house — on all these we must turn our backs ; and retracing our steps to Colyford, mount the steep and winding hill by which Sidmouth is approached.

Alas, poor cyclist 1 it is a foretaste of much toil to come. " Si quis, suadente diabolo. . . ." It is no use to take a cycle into Devon unless one is prepared to work. And after all, what is a bicycle ? Surely a machine for carrying one where one wishes to go ! And where could one wish to go more than to a spot whence there is spread out a view so fine as that which meets the weary cyclist when he turns, breathless and hot, to scan the height up which he has climbed ? The Axe valley lies beneath, spread open like a map, marked out in squares

28 SIDMOUTH CHAP.

and ovals by the prominent hedgerows. Hawksdown, Musbury, and the whole eastern barrier stand in dark shadow beyond the shining stream, the blue sea breaks on the pebble ridge of Seaton in a curving line of foam, the white cliff gleams, and far out beyond the breakers the sunlight catches the brown sail of a fishing boat, which glows like ruddy bronze.

From this point onwards there is a good and easy road along the ridge until one comes in sight of the valley running down to Sidmouth. Here there is what is doubtless the worst hill in the county ; but having once got down it, the road runs pleasantly among pretty villas, and through tidy streets out upon a long parade skirting round a beach of pebbles which curves inland between two lofty cliffs of that deep red sandstone which gives so rich a colouring to nearly the whole of the South Devon coast, and which from this point is hardly broken till Torbay is reached. Pleasantly the little town lies there fronting its sunny bay, the blue water ripples round the base of the blood-red cliffs, the wet pebbles shine with divers colours, the wind blows warm and softly in this sheltered spot, a southern atmosphere of idleness pervades the town, the very river makes no sound as it slips out to sea.

Sidmouth is a happy place to idle in, but it has not much to tell us ; and having loitered for an hour on the parade we turn our backs upon it and pass on up the pretty valley and across the hill to the valley of the Otter, whence an easy road leads to Ottery St. Mary, which very ancient town is both famous and beautiful, and well deserves description. But I vow that I am weary of description, and will describe no more, but push on by Otterton and Bicton till I reach a spot at which I needs must pause, for one of the very greatest names of Devon is closely linked with it.

This is the village of East Budleigh, the birthplace of Sir Walter Raleigh, the most interesting, if not the greatest among that group of strangely gifted men, whose fiery energies

II SIR WALTER RALEIGH 29

and passionate pursuit of vast ideas shook the world out of its faith in Spanish greatness and set England once for all in the forefront of colonising nations. Of this vast work Raleigh was the very soul. His seething brain conceived the notion of a colony in Virginia ; his was the restless energy that fashioned and maintained it ; his the knowledge of the Court that smoothed the obstacles thrown in its way by jealous rivals ; and his the purse that made good its huge expenses. And though the settlement of which he dreamed had never any vigorous life, though it withered and died like a thing bom prematurely, yet it did not pass away as if it had not been ; or the idea was one which could not fail, animated by a vitality far exceeding any temporary collapse, and destined, though Raleigh did not know it, to expand in a measure worthy even of the great mind which conceived it.

" Inspired by a restless genius," Prince says of him, " he designed nothing but what was extreme." And, indeed, it is this note of extravagance in Raleigh's character whicli wins for him

30 RALEIGH'S BIRTHPLACE chap.

the interest and love of men to-day, as it did that of the Virgin Queen three centuries ago. In all things Raleigh was magnificent, a man of vast ideals and of schemes which neither he nor the rest of the world were then able to execute. He dreamed and planned and toiled, and failed, leaving his bones by the wayside, but bequeathing to his countrymen a heritage of great ideas, to which they owe no small part of the material fortune which has been won since the weary dreamer laid down his head upon the block, which an ungrateful and subservient monarch had prepared in recompense for unforgotten services.

Hayes Barton, where Sir Walter was born, was not the original seat of the Raleigh family. Their ancestral home was at Farwell, near Comwood ; and it was only on the marriage of Sir Walter's father, with Joan Drake of Exmouth, that he removed to Hayes, which house, besides its proximity to his wife's relations, stood conveniently near his own two manors of Withycome Raleigh and Colaton Raleigh. It is no great distance from the village to the house. One passes out of the street by a road near the church, which runs half a mile or so along the side of a valley, and brings one out at length upon a little hollow where the old house stands at the foot of the hills, apparently not much altered since the Raleigh's left it. It is a long thatched house of two stories with many gables and a picturesque projecting porch. A farmer occupies it now, and will show the room in which Sir Walter was born.

Here we can imagine him, an eager child, poring over such books as he could command, or sitting on the beach at Budleigh Salterton, as Millais has drawn him for us, listening rapt to some story told by a swarthy sailor of wild adventure on that ocean which in those days was still the pathway to wonders in which a child's imagination could rove at will, or five miles away at Exmouth, where the greatest estuary of the west is filled twice a day with great salt floods, bringing up ships from many lands. The lad must have found endless stimulation for his seaward fancy, in wandering round the quays, and talking to the tarry

II TOPSHAM 31

sailors. It was there, doubtless, that he acquired a deep knowledge of all naval questions which distinguished him through life, even when he stood among seamen such as Drake or Frobisher, or that terrible John Hawkins who was so great in the very qualities that Raleigh lacked.

From Exmouth into Topsham is a rather hilly road without much that is interesting to detain us by the way. And the case is not very different when we arrive at Topsham, though the old town, deserted by its former consequence, lies pleasantly enough along the low shore of the estuary, and retains many ancient houses that speak plainly enough of past prosperity. For a long time Topsham was the chief seat of Exeter commerce, the largest ships unloading here in preference to going up the river ; while, independently of its great patron, the little town had a large and valuable trade with Newfoundland. There was thus a very busy active life upon the quays which are now so quiet ; and Topsham sailors held their own in many a fierce sea fight whose memory is lost.

Chance, however, has preserved for us, in a scarce tract at the British Museum, the story of a fight so grim and deadly waged by one Robert Lyde, a Topsham man, two centuries ago, so full of living details, and so eloquent of that firm faith among the Puritans that God was on the side where they would have Him be, guiding their hands at every onstroke, and sustaining them when the force of battle went against them, that its interest as a human document is of the highest, and I regret that I cannot quote it in fuU.^