BRIDPORT.
Bridport was an important place even in the time of Edward the Confessor, when it contained 120 houses and a priory of monks. It was the birthplace of Giles de Bridport, the third Bishop of Salisbury, whose fine tomb we had seen in that cathedral, and who died in 1262; of him Leland wrote, "he kivered the new Cathedral Church of Saresbyrie throughout with lead." In the time of the Plantagenet kings Bridport was noted for its sails and ropes, much of the cordage and canvas for the fleet fitted out to do battle with the Spanish Armada being made here. Flax was then cultivated in the neighbourhood, and the rope-walks, where the ropes were made, were in the streets, which accounted for some of the streets being so much wider than others. Afterwards the goods were made in factories, the flax being imported from Rusfia.
We did not quite reach the sea that night, as it was a mile or two farther on; but we put up at the "Bull Hotel," and soon discovered we had arrived at a town where nearly all the men for ages had been destined for the army or navy, and consequently had travelled to all parts of the world—strong rivals to the Scots for the honour of being found sitting on the top of the North Pole if ever that were discovered.
King Charles II was nearly trapped here when he rode into the town in company with a few others and put up at the "George Inn." The yard of the inn was full of soldiers, but he passed unnoticed, as they were preparing for an expedition to the Channel Islands. Charles received a private message that he was not safe, and that he was being pursued, and he and his friends hastily departed along the Dorchester road. Fortunately Lord Wilton came up, and advised them to turn down a small lane leading to Broadwindsor, where Charles was immediately secreted; it was lucky for him, as the pursuing party passed along the Dorchester road immediately afterwards, and he would certainly have been taken prisoner if he had gone there. A large stone was afterwards placed at the corner of Lea Lane, where he turned off the high road, and still remained there to commemorate that event, which happened on September 23rd, 1651.
One Sunday morning in 1685 about three hundred soldiers arrived in the town from Lyme Regis, where the Duke of Monmouth had landed on his unfortunate expedition to seize the crown of his uncle James II. They were opposed by the Dorset Militia and fired upon from the windows of the "Bull Inn," where we were now staying, being eventually forced to retire.
In still later years Bridport was kept alive in anticipation of the hourly-expected invasion of England by the great Napoleon, who had prepared a large camp at Boulogne, the coast of Dorset being considered the most likely place for him to land.
(Distance walked thirty miles.)
Friday, November 10th.
We left the "Bull Hotel" a little before daylight this morning, as we had a long walk before us, and in about half an hour we reached Bridport Quay, where the river Brit terminates in the sea, now lying before us in all its beauty. There were a few small ships here, with the usual knot of sailors on the quay; but the great object of interest was known as the Chesil Bank, "one of the most wonderful natural formations in the world." Nothing of the kind approaching its size existed elsewhere in Europe, for it extended from here to Portland, a distance of sixteen miles, and we could see it forming an almost straight line until it reached Portland, from which point it had been described as a rope of pebbles holding Portland to the mainland. The Bank was composed of white flint pebbles, and for half its distance from the Portland end, an inlet from the sea resembling a canal, and called "the Fleet," passed between the land and the Bank, which was here only 170 to 200 yards wide: raised in the centre and sloping down to the water on either side. The pebbles at the Bridport end of the Bank were very small, but at the Portland end they were about three inches in diameter, increasing in size so gradually that in the dark the fishermen could tell where they had landed by the size of the pebbles. The presence of these stones had long puzzled both British and foreign savants, for there were no rocks of that nature near them on the sea-coast, and the trawlers said there were no pebbles like them in the sea. Another mystery was why they varied in size in such a remarkable manner. One thing was certain: they had been washed up there by the gigantic waves that rolled in at times with terrific force from the Atlantic; and after the great storms had swept over the Bank many curious things had been found, including a large number of Roman coins of the time of Constantine, mediæval coins and antique rings, seals, plates, and ingots of silver and gold—possibly some of them from the treasure-ships of the Spanish Armada, which were said to have been sunk in the Bay. Geologists will explain anything. They now assert that the Bank is the result of tidal currents which sweep along the coast eastwards—that they have destroyed beds in the cliff containing such pebbles, and as the current loses strength so the bigger and heavier stones are dropped first and the smaller only reach the places where the current disappears.
