We had been walking in the dark for some hours, but the road was straight, and as we had practically had a non-stop walk from Honiton we were ready on our arrival at Exeter for a good supper and bed at one of the old inns on the Icknield Way, which, with several churches, almost surrounded the Cathedral.

(Distance walked thirty-eight miles.)

Saturday, November 11th.

Exeter, formerly known as the “City of the West” and afterwards as the “Ever-Faithful City,” was one of the most interesting places we had visited.  It had occupied a strong strategical position in days gone by, for it was only ten miles from the open sea, sufficient for it to be protected from sudden attacks, yet the river Exe, on which it is situated, was navigable for the largest ships afloat up to about the time of the Spanish Armada.  Situated in the midst of a fine agricultural country, it was one of the stations of the Romans, and the terminus of the ancient Icknield Way, so that an army landed there could easily march into the country beyond.  Afterwards it became the capital of the West Saxons, Athelstan building his castle on an ancient earthwork known—­from the colour of the earth or rock of which it was composed—­as the “Red Mound.”  His fort, and the town as well, were partially destroyed in the year 1003 by the Danes under Sweyn, King of Denmark.  Soon after the Norman invasion William the Conqueror built his castle on the same site—­the “Red Mound”—­the name changing into the Norman tongue as Rougemont; and when King Edward IV came to Exeter in 1469, in pursuit of the Lancastrian Earls Clarence and Warwick, who escaped by ship from Dartmouth, he was, according to Shakespeare’s Richard III, courteously shown the old Castle of Rougemont by the Mayor.  We could not requisition the services of his Worship at such an early hour this morning, but we easily found the ruins of Rougemont without his assistance; though, beyond an old tower with a dungeon beneath it and a small triangular window said to be of Saxon workmanship, very little remained.  The ruins had been laid out to the best advantage, and the grounds on the slope of the ancient keep had been formed into terraces and planted with flowers, bushes, and trees.  As this work had originally been carried out as far back as the year 1612, the grounds claimed to be the oldest public gardens in England:  the avenues of great trees had been planted about fifty years later.

Perkin Warbeck was perhaps one of the most romantic characters who visited Exeter, for he claimed to be Richard, Duke of York, who, he contended, was not murdered in the Tower of London, as generally supposed.  As the Duke he claimed to be more entitled to the Crown of England than Henry VII, who was then on the throne, Perkin Warbeck, on the other hand, was described as the son of a Tournai Jew, but there seemed to be some doubt about this.  In any case the Duchess of Burgundy acknowledged him as “her dear nephew,” and his claim was supported by Charles VIII of France and James IV of Scotland; from the former he received a pension, and from the latter the hand of his relative Lady Catherine Gordon in marriage.