WHO LOST THEIR LIVES IN THE SAID
BRIG WHICH FOUNDER'D IN THE STORM
ON THE 29TH DAY OF OCTOBER 1823
WITHIN SIGHT OF THIS CHURCH.
Readers be at all times ready, for you
Know not what a day may bring forth.
Teignmouth was a strange-looking town, and the best description of it
was by the poet Winthrop Mackworth Praed, who described it as seen in
his time from the top of the Ness Rock:
A little town was there,
O'er which the morning's earliest beam
Was wandering fresh and fair.
No architect of classic school
Had pondered there with line and rule--
The buildings in strange order lay,
As if the streets had lost their way;
Fantastic, puzzling, narrow, muddy,
Excess of toil from lack of study.
Where Fashion's very latest fangles
Had no conception of right angles.
Possibly the irregular way in which the old portion of the town had been
built was due to the inroads of the French, who had invaded and
partially destroyed the town on two occasions; for in those days the
English coast between Portland and Plymouth was practically undefended.
By way perhaps of reprisal Teignmouth contributed seven ships and 120
mariners to Edward III's expedition to Calais in 1347.
[Illustration: "THE PARSON AND CLERK ROCK," DAWLISH.]
That unfortunate young poet John Keats visited Teignmouth in 1818. He
had begun to write his poem "Endymion" in the Isle of Wight the year
before, and came here to revise and finish it. The house where he
resided, with its old-fashioned door and its three quaint bow windows
rising one above another, was pointed out to us, as well as a shop at
that time kept by the "three pretty milliners" in whom poor Keats was so
greatly interested. Endymion was a beautiful youth whom Selene, the
moon, wrapped in perpetual sleep that she might kiss him without his
knowledge. Keats, who was in bad health when he came to Teignmouth, was
reported to have said he could already feel the flowers growing over
him, and although he afterwards went to Rome, the warmer climate failed
to resuscitate him, and he died there in 1820, when only twenty-five
years old.
We had expected to have to walk thirty miles that day, via Newton Abbot,
before reaching Torquay; but were agreeably surprised to find we could
reduce the mileage to twenty-three and a half by crossing a bridge at
Teignmouth. The bridge was quite a formidable affair, consisting of no
less than thirty-four arches, and measured 1,671 feet from shore to
shore. It was, moreover, built of beams of wood, and as it had been in
existence since the year 1827, some of the timber seemed rather worn.
The open rails at the sides and the water below, and our solemn
thoughts about Keats, tended to give us the impression that we were not
altogether safe, and we were glad when we reached the other side, and
landed safely at St. Nicholas, or rather at the villages which formed
the southern portion of Teignmouth. With the Ness Rock, a huge dark red
rock with a nose turned upwards towards the sky, to our left, we walked
briskly along the coast road towards Torquay in order to reach that town
before dark, as we were obliged to find a good inn to stay in over the
Sunday. Continuing along this road, with fine views in the neighbourhood
of Anstey's Cove, we soon arrived at Torquay, of which we had heard such
glowing descriptions on our journey.
Near the entrance to the town we overtook a clergyman, with whom we
entered into conversation, telling him of our long journey, in which he
was much interested. We asked him if he could recommend us a good hotel
where we could stay until Monday morning, as we did not walk on Sundays;
and he suggested that we should stay at one of the boarding-houses. We
had never thought of staying at these places, but when he said he knew
of one that would just suit us, and would be pleased to accompany us
there, we were delighted to accept his kind offer.
[Illustration: TEIGNMOUTH NESS LIGHTHOUSE.]
I knew my brother was rather suspicious of boarding-houses, and when we
arrived opposite the rather nice house where the clergyman had taken us
I noticed he looked rather critically at the windows both below and
above. When he saw that the curtains were drawn equally on each side of
the windows and all the blinds drawn down to almost exactly the same
distance, he was quite satisfied, as he had often said it was a sure
sign that there was somebody in the house who was looking after it, and
that similar order would be certain to reign within.
[Illustration: ANSTEY'S COVE. TORQUAY.]
The clergyman was evidently well known to the people at the house, and
an introduction to the master and mistress, and (shall we record?) to
their two daughters as well, placed us immediately upon the best of
terms with the whole family. We received every attention, and after a
good tea we had a walk in and around the town, and were well pleased
with the appearance of Torquay. It was a much larger place than we had
anticipated. In a stationer's shop window we saw exhibited a small
_Guide to Torquay_, published in Manchester, and sold for the small sum
of one penny, from which we learned that the population of Torquay had
risen enormously during the past few years, for while it registered
11,294 in 1858 and 16,682 in 1868, in 1871, the year of our journey, it
stood at 26,477; and it further informed us that the distance from there
to London was 216 miles, and that "the express which leaves Paddington
at 9.15 and arrives at Torquay at 4.34 has a third-class carriage for
Torquay"--an example of the speed of express trains in those days. The
_Guide_ must have only just been issued, evidently in advance for the
coming year, as it gave the Torquay High Water Table from May to October
inclusive for 1872, and the following precise account of Anstey's Cove.