A LANDSLIP
The chalk beds on sand--The subsidence of 1839--The great
chasm--Present conditions--The White Cliff--Beer quarries--Jack
Rattenbury.
There are a good many more curious things to be seen in England than
is generally supposed, if we will but go out of the highways to look
for them. Certainly one of the most extraordinary and impressive is
the great landslip between the mouth of the Axe and Lyme Regis; one
which even extended further west beyond the estuary. On this bit of
coast, where Devonshire passes into Dorset, the cliff scenery is
very fine. The White Cliff is a magnificent headland that possesses
the peculiarity of appearing to lean over preparing to slide into
the waves, owing to the inclination of the varicoloured strata of
which it is composed. To understand the phenomenon which occasioned
the subsidence of a whole tract of coast with the alteration of the
coastline, something must be said of the cause of the catastrophe.
The chalk bed striped with lines of glistening black flints is
superposed upon a bed of what is locally termed fox earth, a bed of
gravel or sand that intervenes between it and the clay beneath. Now
the rain that falls on the chalk downs infiltrates and, reaching the
sand and unable to sink through the clay, breaks out in land springs.
But where the chalk cliffs start sheer out of the sea, there the
springs ooze into the sea itself, and, dissolving the texture of
the sandy bed, resolve it into a quicksand, liable at the time of
great floods to be washed out from under the superincumbent chalk.
Should this take place, there is no help for it, but down the chalk
bed must go. If you were lying on a bed, and the mattress under your
feather bed were pulled away, you would descend, sinking to a depth
equivalent to the thickness of the subtracted mattress. That is
plain enough.
Now all along the coast to the east of Lyme Regis there is an
undercliff--evident tokens of a subsidence of this description which
has taken place at some time. When this undercliff has been eaten up
by the sea, and a fresh face of crag exposed, then again there will
occur a displacement, a pulling out of the mattress, and down will
go the chalk above with all the houses and fields upon it. But the
sea has not as yet done more than nibble at this undercliff.
It was not quite so to the west of Lyme. There sheer cliffs of
glistening white rose above the pebbly shore, so abruptly and with
such slight undulations, that several miles ensued before it was
possible for those on the height to descend to the beach. Naturally,
where the rain-water percolated through the chalk it formed no
valleys with streams.
Thus the cliffs stood--for no one knows how long--till the end of
December, 1839.
Previous symptoms of the approaching convulsion were not altogether
wanting. Cracks had been observed for more than a week opening along
the brow of the Downs, but they were not sufficiently remarkable to
attract much attention, as such fissures are by no means uncommon
on this bit of coast. However, about midnight of December 24th, the
labourers of Mr. Chappel, the farmer who occupied Dowlands (about a
quarter of a mile inland from the brow of the cliff, and over half
a mile from the nearest points of the approaching convulsion) were
returning from a supper given them by their employer, whereat the
ashen faggot had been burnt according to custom, and were making
their way to their cottages, situated near the cliff. Then they
noticed that a crack which crossed their path, and which they had
observed on their way to the Christmas Eve supper, had widened, and
that the land beyond had sunk slightly. Nevertheless they did not
consider the matter of great importance, and they went to their
homes and to bed. About four o'clock in the morning they were roused
by their houses reeling, by the concrete floors bursting and gaping,
and the walls being rent. They started from their beds in great
alarm, and about six o'clock arrived at the farm to rouse their
master; they had found their escape nearly cut off, as the crack had
widened and the land on the sea side had sunk considerably, so that
they had, with their wives and children, to scramble up--and that
with difficulty, and, in the darkness, with no little danger.
Happily all escaped in time.
During Christmas Day there was no great change; parties of the
coastguard were stationed on the Downs throughout the ensuing night
to watch what would happen.
About midnight a great fissure began to form which ran in almost
a direct line for three-quarters of a mile. This fissure rapidly
widened to 300 feet, descending, as it seemed at first, into the
very bowels of the earth, but as the sides fell in it finally was
choked at a depth of 150 feet.
One James Robertson and a companion were at that hour crossing the
fields which then extended over this tract, and stumbled across a
slight ridge of gravel, which at first they thought must have been
made by some boys, but one of them stepping on to it, down sank
his leg, and his companion had to pull him out of a yawning chasm.
Next moment they saw that the whole surface of turf was starred and
splitting in all directions, and they fled for their lives. The
sound of the rending of the rocks they described as being much like
that of the tearing of cloth or flannel. Two other members of the
coastguard, who were stationed on the beach, now saw something begin
to rise out of the sea like the back of a gigantic whale; at the
same time the shore of shingles on which they stood lifted and fell,
like the heaving of a breast in sleep. The water was thrown into
violent agitation, foaming and spouting, and great volumes of mud
rushed up from below. The great back rose higher and ever higher,
and extended further till at last it formed a huge reef at a little
distance from the beach. This ridge was composed of the more solid
matter, chert and other pebbles, that had been in the sand under
the chalk, and which by the sinking of the chalk was squeezed out
like so much dough. It remained as a reef for some years, but has
now totally disappeared, having been carried away by the waves.
As the great chasm was formed, the masses from the sides falling
in were, as it were, mumbled and chewed up in the depths, and to
the eyes of the frightened spectators sent forth flashes of light;
they also supposed that an intolerable stench was emitted from the
abyss. But this was no more than the odours given out by the violent
attrition of the cherty sandstone and chalk grinding against each
other as they descended.
Throughout the 26th the subsided masses of the great chasm continued
sinking, and the elevated reef gradually rising; but by the evening
of that day everything had settled very nearly into the position in
which it remains at present, although edges have since lost their
sharpness and minor rents have been choked.
A writer whose reminiscences have been recently published describes
briefly the aspect of the place after the sinkage.
"I rode over to see this huge landslip. The greater part of a
farm had subsided a hundred feet or more. Hedges and fields,
with their crops of turnips, etc., were undisturbed by the fall,
and broken off sharply from the ground a hundred feet above.
There was a rather dislocated ridge on the shore, which formed
a sort of moraine to the slip. On this part were some cottages
twisted about, but still holding together, and having their
gardens and even their wells attached; yet the shock of the
falling mass had been so great as to cause the upheaval of an
island off shore."
The aspect of the landslip on the farms of Bindon, Dowlands,
Rousdon, and Pinhay at present is full of interest and of
picturesque beauty. Ivy has grown luxuriantly and mantles the crags,
elder bushes have found the sunk masses of rock suitable to their
requirements, and in early summer the air is strong with the scent
of their trusses of flowers, and in autumn the whole subsidence is
hung with thousands on ten thousands of shining black clusters of
berries. Above a sea of foliage the white cliffs shoot out in the
boldest fashion, and out of the gorge start horns, pinnacles of
chalk of the most fantastic description. The whole is a labyrinth of
chasms, not to be ventured into with good clothing, as the brambles
grow in the wildest luxuriance and are clawed like the paws of a
panther. But, oh! what blackberries may be gathered there--large,
sweet, luscious as mulberries. Moreover, the whole sunk region is
a paradise for birds of every description, and not a step can be
taken that does not disturb jackdaws, magpies, warblers of every
kind. One of the cottages that went down has been rebuilt with the
old material. As already said, it descended at least a hundred feet
with its well. The well still flows with water; that, however, is
not now marvellous--how it was that it held water previously is the
extraordinary fact.
At the extremity of the landslip the visitor will see that there
is still movement going on, but on a small scale--cracks are still
forming and extending through the turf. It may be safely said that
the landslip between the mouth of the Axe and Lyme Regis is one of
the most interesting and picturesque scenes to be found in England.
There is a good deal more in the neighbourhood to be seen than the
landslip at Rousdon and Pinhay. If the cliffs be explored to the
west of the mouth of the Axe, they will be found to well repay the
visit. The splendid crag of the White Cliff towers above the sea,
showing the slanting beds of the cherty matter below the dazzling
white of the chalk, and from their inclination giving to the whole
cliff an appearance of lurching into the waves. Beyond this is Beer,
a narrow cleft in the hills, in which are fishermen's cottages, many
of them very picturesque, and above them rises a really excellently
designed modern church.
A walk up the valley leads to the famous Beer quarries that have
been worked for centuries. This splendid building-stone lies below
the chalk with flints. There are eight beds, forming a thickness
of twelve feet four inches, resting on a hard, white, calcareous
rock five or six feet thick, which reposes in turn on sandstones.
There is very little waste from these quarries, which are carried on
underground; and all that is seen of them are the yawning portals
in a face of white cliff. But a shout at the entrance will summon
a workman, who will conduct the visitor through the labyrinth
underground. The roof is sustained by large square pillars formed by
portions of the workable beds left standing.
The stone is nearly white, and chiefly composed of carbonate of
lime, with the addition of some argillaceous and silicious matter,
and a few scattered particles of green silicate of iron. When first
quarried this stone is somewhat soft, and is easily worked, but it
rapidly hardens on exposure.
Opposite the new quarry are the mounds that mark the site of the old
quarry, from which the stone was extracted for Exeter Cathedral. The
subterranean passages there are now blocked, but during the time of
the European war they were much used by smugglers, who abounded in
Beer. The _Memoirs of Jack Rattenbury_, the most notorious of these,
were published at Sidmouth in 1837, but are not of conspicuous
interest. Beer Head has suffered from landslips, and is broken into
spires of rock in consequence.
Books on the Landslip, and on Seaton:--
CONYBEARE and DAWSON, _Memoir and Views of Landslips on the
Coast of East Devon_, 1840. A very scarce work.
HUTCHINSON (P. O.), _Guide to the Landslip near Axmouth_.
Sidmouth, 1840.
DAVIDSON (J. B.), "Seaton before the Conquest," in _Transactions
of Devonshire Association_, 1885.
MUMFORD (G. F.), _Seaton, Beer, and Neighbourhood_. Yeovil,
_n.d._