DUNSTER.
The road from here to Dunster is delightful, and as you approach the quaint old town—for it is a town, difficult as it is to believe it—the castle stands high up on the left embosomed in trees, a real fairy-tale sort of fortress it appears, with a watch-tower perched up on another wooded hill to balance it. The Luttrells have lived here for centuries, and during the Civil War it was for long a Royalist stronghold, held by Colonel Wyndham, the governor. The gallant colonel's spirited answer to the threat of the Parliamentarians to place his aged mother in their front ranks to receive the fury of his cannon should he refuse to deliver up the castle, is a fine example of loyalty. "If ye doe what you threaten," he said, "you doe the most barbarous and villanous act was ever done. My mother I honour, but the cause I fight for and the masters I serve, are God and the King. Mother, doe you forgive me and give me your blessing, and tell the rebells answer for spilling that blood of yours which I would save with the loss of mine own, if I had enough for both my master and your selfe." But fortunately matters did not come to a climax, for Lord Wentworth appeared upon the scene with a strong force and relieved the beleaguered garrison. The loyalty of old Lady Wyndham and her son was further put to the test a few years afterwards when young King Charles lay concealed in their house at Trent near Sherborne.[25]
Within the castle there is a curious hiding-place which carries us back to those troublous times. Local tradition has connected it in error with the visit of the second Charles, whose room is still pointed out; but the king was then not a fugitive, otherwise doubtless this secret chamber would have proved as useful to him as that at Trent House in 1651.
The main street of Dunster, with its irregular outline of houses climbing up a hill, and the quaintest old market-house at the top backed by a dense maze of foliage beyond, is exceedingly picturesque. Judging from the hole made by a cannon-ball from the castle in one of the oaken beams of this remarkable "yarn market," poor Lady Wyndham had a lucky escape. The marvel is the old structure has remained until now in so delightful an unrestored condition. It has the colour which age alone can impart, a red purple-grey which, contrasted with the background as we saw it of laburnum and may, formed a picture long to be remembered. The old inn, the "Luttrell Arms," has many points of interest—some fine fifteenth-century woodwork, in the courtyard, a carved ceiling, and a rich Elizabethan fireplace; but doubtless from the fact that the landlord gets too many inquiries about these things, he is tardy in showing them. The church has one of the finest carved oak screens of Henry VI.'s reign in England, which to our mind looks much better in its unpainted state. One has but to go to Carhampton, close by, to make a comparison. The paint may be in excellent taste, and like it was originally; but when the original paint has gone, is it not best to leave the woodwork plain? Under these conditions the screen at least looks old, but the fine screen at Carhampton does not. A smaller screen in the transept of Dunster church presents yet more bold and beautiful design in the carving; and about this and the ancient tombs and altar, the bright and intelligent old lady who shows one round has a fund of information to impart. She is very proud, and naturally so, of the interesting building under her charge. Up a side street is the nunnery with its slate-hung front: a lofty, curious building some three centuries old or more.
Minehead Church is equally interesting. It stands high up overlooking the sea, and commands a magnificent prospect of the hanging-woods of Dunster and the heights of Dunkery. The rood-screen is good, but has been mutilated in parts. The ancient oak coffer is remarkable for the bold relief of its carving, representing the arms of Fitz-James quartered with Turberville as it occurs in Bere Regis church.
There is a fine recumbent effigy of a man in robes, said to be a famous lawyer named Bracton, although he has much the appearance of a cleric. Whether it was considered conclusive proof that the person interred was a lawyer from the fact that on being opened the skull revealed a double row of upper teeth, we do not know, but there are other evidences. A victim of insomnia is said to resemble a lawyer, because he lies on one side then turns round and lies on the other; and this is precisely what this effigy did. We had the good fortune to fall in with the organist of St. Michael, and he declared that he had taken a photograph of the worthy in which the figure had changed its position, the head being where the feet should be—everything else in the picture being precisely in its right position!
In the church is one of those quaint little figures which in former years was worked by the clock "Jack-smite-the-clock," of which there are examples at Southwold, Blythborough, etc. The former rector held the living for seventy years, and some trouble was caused because he had willed that some of the ancient parish documents were to be interred with him robed in his Geneva gown. It is said his wish was duly carried out, but the papers were afterwards rescued.
Bossington, on the coast to the north-west of Porlock, is a delightful little village, lying at the foot of the great heather-clad hills. The rushing stream and the moss and lichen everywhere add much to its picturesqueness, but we should imagine there is too much shade and damp to be enjoyable in the winter. In the middle of the narrow road stands a very ancient walnut tree with twisted limbs and roots, one of many walnut trees in the village. There are cosy ancient thatched cottages in Porlock, and the "Ship Inn," with its panelled walls, is the most inviting of hostelries, but the popular novel Lorna Doone has rather spoiled the primitive aspect of the place by introducing some buildings out of keeping with the rest.