Launceston was one of the surprises that we frequently came across--a
town that we had never heard of before and doubtless one that an
American seldom sees. Yet the massive castle, whose circular keep crowns
an eminence overlooking the town, was one of the objects that loomed
into view long before we reached the place, and its gloomy grandeur, as
we wandered through its ruins in the fading twilight, deeply impressed
us. A rude stairway led to the top of the great circular tower, rising
high above the summit of the hill, which itself dominates the country,
and the view stretching away in every direction was far-reaching and
varied. The castle has been gradually falling into ruin for the last six
hundred years, but in its palmy days it must have been one of the
grimmest and most awe-inspiring of the fortresses in the west country.
Scarcely another ruin did we see anywhere more imposing in location and
more picturesque in decay. Masses of ivy clung to the crumbling walls
and all around spread a beautiful park, with soft, velvety turf
interspersed with shrubbery and bright dashes of color from numerous
well cared-for flower beds.
Not less unique is St. Steven's church, the like of which is not to be
found elsewhere in Britain. Its walls are covered with a network of fine
carving, vine and flower running riot in stone, and they told us that
this was done by English stonecutters, though nearly all such carving
on the cathedrals was the work of artisans from the continent. The
Launceston church is pointed to as an evidence that English workmen
could have done quite as well had they been given the chance. Aside from
this wonderful carving, which covers almost every stone of the exterior,
the church is an imposing one and has lately been restored to its
pristine magnificence. Launceston had its abbey, too, but this has long
since disappeared, and all that now remains of it is the finely carved
Norman doorway built into the entrance of the White Hart Hotel.
Our next day's run was short, covering only forty-two miles between
Launceston and Exeter. For about half the distance the road runs along
the edge of Dartmoor, the greatest of English moorlands. A motor trip of
two or three days through the moor itself would be time well spent, for
it abounds in romantic scenery. The road which we followed is a good
one, though broken into numerous steep hills, but a part of the way we
might as well have been traveling through a tunnel so far as seeing the
country was concerned. A large proportion of the fences are made of
earth piled up four or five feet high, and on the top of this ridge are
planted the hedges, generally reaching three or four feet higher. There
were times when we could catch only an occasional glimpse of the
landscape, and if such fences were everywhere in England they would be
a serious deterrent upon motoring. Fortunately, they prevail in a
comparatively small section, for we did not find them outside of
Cornwall and Devon. This experience served to impress on us how much we
lost when the English landscapes were hidden--that the vistas which
flitted past us as we hurried along were among the pleasantest features
of our journey. It was little short of distressing to have mud fences
shut from view some of the most fascinating country through which we
passed.
The greatest part of the day we spent in Exeter. The Rougemont Hotel,
where we stopped for the night, is spacious and comfortable, and a
series of stained-glass windows at the head of the great staircase tells
the story of Richard Ill's connection with Exeter; how, according to
Shakespeare's play, the Rougemont of Exeter recalled to the king's
superstitious mind an ancient prophecy of his defeat at the hands of
Richmond, later Henry VII.
Leaving Exeter early, we planned to reach Bath in the evening--only
eighty-one miles over an almost perfect road--not a very long run so far
as actual distance is concerned, but entirely too long considering the
places of unusual interest that lie along the way. We passed through the
little town of Wellington, noted chiefly for giving his title to the
Iron Duke, and it commemorates its great namesake by a lofty column
reared on one of the adjacent hills.
No town in Britain has an ecclesiastical history more important than
Glastonbury, whose tradition stretches back to the very beginning of
Christianity in the Island. Legend has it that St. Joseph of Arimathea,
who begged the body of Christ and buried it, came here in the year 63
and was the founder of the abbey. He brought with him, tradition says,
the Holy Grail; and a thorn-tree staff which he planted in the abbey
grounds became a splendid tree, revered for many centuries as the Holy
Thorn. The original tree has vanished, though there is a circumstantial
story that it was standing in the time of Cromwell and that a Puritan
who undertook to cut it down as savoring of idolatry had an eye put out
by a flying chip and was dangerously wounded by his axe-head flying off
and striking him. With its awe-inspiring traditions--for which,
fortunately, proof was not required--it is not strange that Glastonbury
for many centuries was the greatest and most powerful ecclesiastical
establishment in the Kingdom. The buildings at one time covered sixty
acres, and many hundreds of monks and dignitaries exerted influence on
temporal as well as ecclesiastical affairs. It is rather significant
that it passed through the Norman Conquest unscathed; not even the
greedy conquerors dared invade the sanctity of Glastonbury Abbey. The
revenue at that time is said to have been about fifty thousand pounds
yearly and the value of a pound then would equal twenty-five to fifty of
our American dollars. However much the Normans respected the place, its
sanctity had no terrors for the rapacious Henry VIII. The rich revenues
appealed too strongly and he made a clean sweep, hanging the mitered
abbot and two of his monks on the top of Tor Hill. The Abbey is the
traditional burial-place of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, and four of
the Saxon kings sleep in unmarked graves within its precincts.
Considering its once vast extent, the remaining ruins are scanty,
although enough is left to show how imposing and elaborate it must have
been in its palmy days. And there are few places in the Kingdom where
one is so impressed with the spirit of the ancient order of things as
when surrounded by the crumbling walls of Glastonbury Abbey.
[Illustration: ST. JOSEPH'S CHAPEL, GLASTONBURY ABBEY.]
At Wells is the cathedral that gives the town an excuse for existence.
Although one of the smallest of these great English churches, it is in
many respects one of the most symmetrical and beautiful. Its glory is
centered chiefly in its west front, with deep buttresses and many
sculptured images of kings and saints. We had only an unsatisfactory
glimpse of the interior, as services happened to be in progress. The
town of Wells is a mere adjunct to the cathedral. It has no history of
its own; no great family has ever lived there; and it can claim no
glory as the birthplace of distinguished sons. Still it has a distinct
charm as a quiet little Somersetshire town which has preserved its
antiquity and fascination. Its name is taken from the natural wells
still found in the garden of the Bishop's palace.
Bath, though it has the most remarkable Roman relics in the Kingdom, is
largely modern. It is now a city of fifty thousand and dates its rise
from the patronage of royalty a century and a half ago. It is one of the
towns that a motorist could scarcely miss if he wished--so many fine
roads lead into it--and I shall not attempt especial comment on a place
so well known. Yet, as in our case, it may be a revelation to many who
know of it in a general way but have no adequate idea of the real extent
of the Roman baths. These date from 50 to 100 A.D. and indicate a degree
of civilization which shows that the Roman inhabitants in Britain must
have been industrious, intelligent and cleanly.
Excavations have been conducted with great difficulty, since the Roman
remains lie directly under an important part of the city covered with
valuable buildings. Nearly all of the baths in the vicinity of the
springs have been uncovered and found in a surprising state of
perfection. In many places the tiling with its mosaic is intact, and
parts of the system of piping laid to conduct the water still may be
traced. Over the springs has been erected the modern pump-house and many
of the Roman baths have been restored to nearly their original state. In
the pump-house is a museum with hundreds of relics discovered in course
of excavation--sculpture, pottery, jewelry, coin and many other articles
that indicate a high degree of civilization. Outside of the Roman
remains the most notable thing in Bath is its abbey church, which, in
impressive architecture and size, will compare favorably with many of
the cathedrals. In fact, it originally was a cathedral, but in an early
day the bishopric was transferred to Wells. There is no ruined fortress
or castle in Bath, with its regulation lot of legends. Possibly in an
effort to remedy the defect, there has been erected on one of the hills
that overlook the town a structure which goes by the epithet of the Sham
Castle.
On leaving Bath, we followed the fine London road as far as Chippenham,
a prosperous agricultural town celebrated for its wool market. To the
north of this is Malmesbury, with an abbey church whose history goes
back to the Ninth Century. A portion of the nave is still used for
services and is remarkable for its massive pillars and Norman doorway,
the great arch of which has perhaps a hundred rude carvings illustrating
scenes from scripture history. The strong walls of the church caused it
to be used at times as a fortress, and it underwent sieges in the
different wars that raged over the Kingdom. The verger pointed out to us
deep indentations made by Cromwell's cannon and told us that one of the
abbey's vicissitudes was its use for some years as a cloth manufacturing
establishment.
From Malmesbury we followed the road through Cirencester to Cheltenham,
one of the most modern-looking cities which we saw in England. Like
Bath, it is famous for its springs, and a large share of its population
is made up of retired officers of the army and navy. The main streets
are very wide, nearly straight, and bordered in many places with fine
trees. However, its beginning dates from only about 1700, and therefore
it has little claim on the tourist whose heart is set upon ancient and
historic things.
Of much greater interest is its neighbor, Gloucester, about twelve miles
away. The two cities are almost of the same size, each having about
fifty thousand people. Gloucester can boast of one of the most beautiful
of the cathedrals, whether considered from its imposing Gothic exterior
or its interior, rich with carvings and lighted by unusually fine
stained-glass windows, one of which is declared to be the largest in the
world. The cathedral was begun in 1088, but the main tower was not
completed until nearly five hundred years later, which gives some idea
of the time covered in the construction of many of these great churches.
Gloucester boasts of great antiquity, for it is known that the
Britons had a fortified town here which they defended against the Roman
attacks; and after having become possessed of it, the Romans greatly
strengthened it as a defense against incursions from the Welsh tribes.
Before the Norman Conquest, it was of such importance that Edward the
Confessor held his court in the town for some time. Being in the west
country, it naturally was a storm-center in the parliamentary struggle,
during which time a great deal of the city was destroyed. But there are
many of the old portions still remaining and it has numbers of beautiful
half-timbered buildings. One of these was the home of Robert Raikes,
known to the world as the founder of the Sunday School. Gloucester is
worthy of a longer stay than we were able to make, and in arranging an
itinerary one should not fail to provide for a full day in the town.
[Illustration: IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE.