h 
 
 ' LIBEARY 1 
 
 OF 
 
 David F. Watkins. 
 
 \ No. x/z^ I 
 
 '\ - ■- r 
 
 V f
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 Lucius K. Chase 
 Maria ".''atkinsGhase 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Ransome lu Ghase 
 David P. Ghase
 
 A DESCRIPTION 
 
 PART OF DEVONSHIRE 
 
 BORDERING ON 
 
 THE TAMAR AND THE TAVY ; 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY, 
 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, SUPERSTITIONS, SCENERY, ANTIQUITIES. 
 
 BIOGRAPHY OF EHmENT PERSON'S, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 IN A SERIES OF LETTERS TO 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 BY MRS. BRAY, 
 
 AUTHOR OV ' TRAVELSIN NORMANDY,' ' FITZ OF FITZFORD,' ' THE 
 TALBA,' ' DE FOIX,' F.TC. 
 
 " I own the- power 
 Of local sympathy that o'er the fair 
 Throws more divine allurement, and o'er all 
 The great more grandeur, and my kindling *muse. 
 Fired by the universal passion, p jurs 
 Haply a partial lay." 
 
 Carkinotons Dartmoor. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES.— VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXXVI.
 
 <, 
 
 LONDON: 
 Printed by William Clowes and Sons, 
 Stamford Street.
 
 DA 
 
 47£) 
 
 DsBr 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In the following work, difficult as it may be to 
 please all tastes, the writer has endeavoured to 
 furnish something that may suit each class of read- 
 ers. For the historian and the antiquary, she has 
 laboured with no small diligence; so that they may 
 not have to complain that her work is wanting in 
 substantial matter. For the tourist, she has given 
 descriptive sketches from observations made on the 
 spot. For those who are fond of biography, she 
 has selected subjects which she hopes may be found 
 of interest ; whilst the sketches of living characters 
 are drawn from her own acquaintance with them. 
 For the lovers of poetry and romance, she has 
 given abundance of tales, stories, superstitions, old 
 customs and traditions peculiar to tliis delightful 
 county. All these matters she has endeavoured 
 to introduce in a manner to give variety, and to 
 relieve the more serious portions of the book : so 
 that if, now and then, the mere general reader 
 
 S3 
 
 a 2
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 should meet with a subject for which he has no 
 rehsh, he has but to pass on a few pages, and he 
 will then find that the volumes are not exclusively 
 confined to subjects which, with the curious, or 
 the historian, will probably be deemed of most 
 import. 
 
 Mr. Southey suggested the plan with a view to 
 originality ; — namely, to make a local work possess, 
 what it had hitherto been deemed little capable 
 of possessing — a general interest. 
 
 Holding the opinions of the Laureate in that 
 
 high respect to which they are entitled, the writer, 
 
 therefore, has attempted to act on his plan, in the 
 
 present instance. She has only to add, that where- 
 
 ever she may have fallen short of her object, it has 
 
 not been for want of either labour or endeavour; 
 
 and ydih this conviction, she hopes to meet with 
 
 candour and indulgence on the part of both critic 
 
 and reader. 
 
 A. E. B. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, Devon, 
 Dec. 4th, 1835.
 
 SUBJECTS 
 
 OF 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST*. 
 
 Letter I. 
 Letter IL 
 Letter III. . 
 \Letter IV. 
 Letter V. 
 Le*ter VL 
 LetttrVII. . 
 Letter VIII. 
 Letter IX . 
 Letter X. \ 
 Letter XI. . 
 Letter XII, 
 Letter XIII. 
 Letter XIV. 
 Letter XV. . 
 Letter XVI. 
 Letter XVII. 
 Letter XVIII. 
 Letter XIX. 
 Letter XX. 
 Letter XXI. 
 
 Page 
 
 1 
 
 16 
 
 34 
 
 58 
 
 69 
 
 90 
 
 109 
 
 139 
 
 158 
 
 167 
 
 193 
 
 212 
 
 225 
 
 245 
 
 256 
 
 274 
 
 294 
 
 303 
 
 324 
 
 345 
 
 359 
 
 See end of Vol. III. for a complete Index to the Volumes. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 a3
 
 LETTERS TO THE LAUREATE, 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents — Allusion to the original plan of the wurk being suLTgested 
 bv the Laureate — Sources to be employed in its progress — Climate, 
 situation, and natural advantages of the Town — Anecdote of 
 Charles II. — Dartmoor heij^his, rivers, and streams : their character 
 — Weather: humorous lines on the same — Mildness of the climate; 
 vegetation ; laurels, &c. — Myrtles : account of some extraordinary 
 ones at Warleigh — House Swallows, or Martens — Story of a deep 
 snow : a gentleman imprisoned by it — Origin of the name of 
 Moretou Hampstead — Frozen Swans — A Christening Anecdote of 
 the last generation — Snow in the lap of May — Pulmonary con- 
 sumption unknown on Dartmoor — Snow-drops : sti-awbern'-plants ; 
 butterflies at unusual seasons — Blackbirds and Thrushes — ^Vinter 
 weather — Monumental stones of Romanized British Chiefs — 
 Reasons given bv the ^V^iter for going at once to Dartmoor — Vestiges 
 of the Aboriginal Inhabitants of that region. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, Devon, Feb. 11, 1S32. 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Ever since you so kindly suggested that, ac- 
 cording to a plan you yourself pointed out, I sliould 
 attempt giving an account of this place and neigh- 
 bourhood, I have felt exceedingly desirous to begin 
 the task, that, previous to yoiu* honouring TaA-istock 
 with the promised visit, you may know what objects, 
 possessing anv interest in themselves, or in relation 
 to past times, may be found here worthy your attcn- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. [lET. 
 
 tion; and though to do justice to such a work as 
 you have suggested to me would require your own 
 powers fully to execute it, and conscious as I am 
 how inadequate I must be to the undertaking, yet 
 I will attempt, as far as I am able, to meet your 
 wishes — well knowing, by my own experience, that 
 you are one of those who receive, with kindness and 
 indulgence, any information that may be gleaned 
 even from the humblest source. 
 
 Nor shall I forget that it is your wish I should give 
 not only all the history and biography of this place, 
 and gather up whatever of " tradition and manners 
 can be saved from obli\ion," but also (again to quote 
 your own words) state " every thing about a parish 
 that can be made interesting" — " not omitting some 
 of those ' short and simple annals' of domestic life 
 which ought not to be forgotten." WTiilst I attempt, 
 therefore, to give to subjects of historical import the 
 serious attention they demand, I shall likewise en- 
 deavour to vary and lighten those more grave parts 
 of my letters, by stating, sometimes, even trifling 
 things, in the hope they may not be altogether void 
 of interest or amusement ; for a traveller, though he 
 sets out on a serious pursuit, may be pardoned if he 
 now and then stoops to pick up a \vild flower to 
 amuse his mind for a moment, as he journeys on liis 
 way. In the accounts wiiich I purpose transmitting 
 to Keswick, I shall not only give you such inform.a- 
 tion as I have myself been able to collect, but I shall 
 also, when I come to speak of Tavistock Abbey, 
 derive some assistance bv occasional references to a 
 
 kJ 
 
 series of papers wTitten by my brother,* respecting 
 
 * Alfred John Kempe, F.S.A,
 
 I.] CLIMATE OF TAVISTOCK. 3 
 
 that monastic foundation, which appeared in the 
 Gentleman's Magazine about two years ago. 
 
 I have, I beheve, before mentioned to you, that at 
 a very early period of life, Mr. Bray entertained some 
 thoughts of ^^Titing a history of his native town, 
 including descriptive excursions in its vicinity — the 
 latter more particularly embracing the western limits 
 of Dartmoor. Though, from liA^ng retired, and not 
 meeting with that encouragement wliich is so useful 
 and so cheering to young authors, he never threw 
 into a regular form his purposed work ; yet he made 
 for it a considerable body of notes, principally derived 
 from his personal observations on the scenes and 
 antiquities that excited his interest and attention. 
 Some of these papers have now become exceedingly 
 valuable, because, unfortunately, many of the me- 
 morials of past times, which they most minutely de- 
 scribe, have of late years been seriously injured, or 
 entirely destroyed. In my letters, therefore, I pro- 
 pose, from time to time, to transmit to you very 
 copious extracts from these papers, as it would be 
 both needless and presumptuous in me to attempt 
 gi-ving my ovra account of those vestiges of antiquity 
 and picturesque scenes, which have already been so 
 carefully investigated and faithfully delineated by 
 m}- husband. 
 
 Before I enter, therefore, upon any historical notices 
 of Tavistock, I shall say something respecting the 
 climate, situation, and natural advantages of our 
 neighbourhood : since I am much disposed to think 
 that the monks, who knew so well how to choose their 
 ground, whenever an abbey was in question, v/ere 
 induced to fix on this spot on account of its many 
 and most desirable localities for the erection of that 
 
 B 2
 
 4 ANECDOTE OF CHARLES II. [lET. 
 
 noble pile, whose existence gave celebrity to the place, 
 and was as a refu2;e of honour and security to the 
 learning, science, and piety of those times — which 
 now, with more flippancy than truth, it is so much 
 the fashion to rank under the name of the " dark 
 ages," though our own boasted light was caught from 
 that flame which they had saved from extinction. 
 
 I have invariably found, vath persons who rather 
 choose to see the faults and deficiencies than to trace 
 the advantages either of the natural or the moral 
 world, that whenever I speak in praise of Devon- 
 shire, or of Tavistock in particular, they oppose to 
 such commendation — the climate ; and ask me how 
 I can be partial to a place so constantly exposed to 
 rain ? The objection has received even the sanction 
 of royalty, since it is traditionally averred that whilst 
 Charles II. was in Tavistock (in his father's life- 
 time, during the civil wars) he was so annoyed by 
 wet weather, that if any body remarked it was a fine 
 day, he was wont to declare ever after, " that, how- 
 ever fine it might be elsewhere, he felt quite sure it 
 must be raining at Tavistock." 
 
 That we have a more than due proportion of wet 
 I will not deny; but it is, I believe, a fault com- 
 mon to mountainous countries ; and if we have some 
 discomforts arising from this circumstance, I am con- 
 vinced that we owe to it many of our advantages 
 also. I have never seen your majestic mountains 
 and lakes ; but, judging from a beautiful collection 
 of drawings,* in iny own possession, of Cumberland 
 and Westmoreland, I am induced to believe that a 
 very great resemblance may be traced between the 
 
 * By the late lamented C. A. Stothard, F.S.A.
 
 I.] TAVISTOCK. 5 
 
 valleys of those fine counties and our own; and I 
 rather think that you also have no want of showers. 
 
 Our Dartmoor heights are frequently distinguished 
 by bold and abrupt decli\ities of a mountainous cha- 
 racter ; our verdure is perpetual — and we owe to 
 those watery clouds, which so much annoyed the 
 lively young prince, not only our rich pastures, but 
 the beauty of our numerous rivers and matchless 
 mountain streams. Of these I shall have occasion to 
 speak hereafter, since, go where we will, they meet us 
 in our walks and rides at every turn — and always 
 like pleasant fi'iends, whose animation and cheer- 
 fulness give an additional delight to every surround- 
 ing object. So much, indeed, do I feel prejudiced 
 in their favour, that, after having become for so long 
 a time familiar with the tumult and the beaut}' of our 
 mountain rivers, I thought even the Thames itself 
 sluggish and dull, and very far inferior to the Tavy 
 or the Tamar. 
 
 Tavistock owes much of its humidity to the neigh- 
 bourhood of Dartmoor ; for there the clouds, which, 
 OAving to the prevalence of the westerly winds in this 
 quarter, pass onward from the Atlantic ocean, are 
 attracted by the summits of its gi-anite tors, and, 
 spreading themselves in every direction, discharge 
 their contents not only on the moor itself, but for 
 many miles around its base. Some ingenious person 
 (whose name I do not know, or it should find a re- 
 cord) has described our weather with much humour 
 in the following lines : — 
 
 " The west wind always brings wet weather, 
 The east wind wet and cold together, 
 The south wind surely brings us rain, 
 The north wind blows it back iiLrui:..
 
 6 TAVISTOCK. [let. 
 
 If the sun in red should set, 
 The next da\- surely will be wet; 
 If the sun should set in gray, 
 The next will be a rainy day," 
 
 Thus you see, my dear sir, poets will sometimes be 
 libellers, and help to keep alive a popular prejudice ; 
 for let the weather-grumblers say what they will, I 
 can aver that our climate (whose evil reputation is 
 taken for granted, without sufficient inquiry into its 
 truth), bad as it may be, has, nevertheless, its re- 
 deeming qualities ; and, amongst others, assuredly 
 it teaches us to know the value of a good thing when 
 we have it, a virtue getting somewhat scarce in these 
 times ; for a real fine, dry, sun-shiny day in Tavi- 
 stock can never pass unnoticed, all living things 
 rejoice in it ; and the rivers run and leap and sparkle 
 with such brilliancy, and offer so much to delight the 
 eye and cheer the spirits, that the clouds and the 
 damp and the rain that helped to render them so 
 full and flowing, are all forgotten in the gladness of 
 the genial hour; and the animals, and the birds, 
 with the insect tribe (which is here so numerous and 
 varied) play, or sing, or flutter about with a vivacity 
 that would almost make one believe they hailed a 
 fine day as truly as would King Charles, could he have 
 met with such a recreation on the banks of old Tavy. 
 
 The mildness of our chmate is so well known, that 
 it needs no eulogy of mine ; our laurels and bays are 
 the most beautiful evergreens in the world, and, like 
 those of one who shall be nameless, never fade. Our 
 myrtles, too, flourish in the open air ; and we used to 
 boast of some very fine ones that grew in our garden. 
 In a hard frost, however, they should be carefully 
 matted; for the severe weather of January, 1831,
 
 I.] MILDNESS OF CLIMATE. 7 
 
 killed ours, in consequence of their having been 
 neglected in this particular. I cannot give a stronger 
 proof of the mildness of our climate, than by men- 
 tioning the following circumstance, which I received 
 from my esteemed friend, Mrs. EadchfFe, of Warleigh. 
 That lady says, in one of her letters to me, " Four 
 myrtle trees grew^ in the open air, in the recesses of 
 Warleigh House, from twenty-seven to tliirty feet in 
 height, the branches spreading nearly fi'om the roots. 
 One was a foot and a half in circumference at the 
 base, and proportionably large to the top. The 
 other three were nearly as high, and one of them 
 was two feet in circumference near the root. Two 
 of the four were of the broad-leaved kind, one small- 
 leaved, and the other double-blossomed, the flowers 
 of which might be gathered from the windows. 
 They were cut down in 1782, fi-om the apprehension 
 of their causing the walls of the house to be damp. 
 The late Mr. Radcliife, who cut them down, remarks, 
 in a memorandum, ' I have been the more par- 
 ticular in describing these myrtles, as I doubt not 
 they were the largest in England. Four-and-twenty 
 fagots, of the usual size, were made of the brush- 
 wood. The stem, main branches, and principal parts 
 of the roots were in weight 452 lbs.' Tea-cacldies, 
 made ft'om the wood, and a block of it, remain in 
 our possession at Warleigh." 
 
 I here also may add (as another proof of the mild- 
 ness of our air) the following particulars, which 
 I have seen stated in Dr. Moore's Catalogue, lately 
 published, of the birds of Devon. The Doctor says, 
 " Of the house swallow, or marten, I have seen the 
 old birds feeding their young on the 20th of Sep- 
 tember, 1828, at Warleigh ; and have been assured.
 
 8 A DEEP SNOW. [let. 
 
 by a good observer, that martens have frequently 
 been seen flpng durmg miki weather even in the 
 Christmas 2ceek, at Plympton. These bh'ds build 
 in the holloAvs of the rocks under Wemburv Cliffs, 
 as well as about the houses in this neighbourhood." 
 
 Our ^^dnters are seldom severe ; and when we have 
 snow it docs not lie long vipon the ground. But 
 Dartmoor, n-om its great elevation, is far more hable 
 to snow storms and hard weather than we are, who 
 live in a less elevated country. Mr. Bray recollects 
 that, when he was a boy, returning from school at 
 Christmas, three men with shovels went before the 
 carriage as it crossed the moor, in order to remove 
 the snow heaps that, in particular places, would 
 otherwise have rendered it impassable. 
 
 The severest A\inier that I have heard of witliin 
 tlie memory of persons now living, occurred about 
 tAventy years since, when my husband's father met 
 with an adventure that was a good deal talked of at 
 the time, and found its way into the public prints. 
 Had you crossed the moor to visit us when you 
 v>"ere last with j^our friend Mr. Lightfoot, it is not 
 impossible you might have had a somewhat similar 
 one, since I perfectly well recollect then hearing that, 
 for several days, the road from Moreton to Tavistock 
 was exceedingly difficult of access on account of the 
 drifted snow. I here give you Mr. Bray's adventure. 
 
 That gentleman had been at Exeter to take the 
 oaths as portreeve of the borough of Tavistock, and 
 was returning by the nearest road through Moreton 
 Hampstcad, situated about twelve miles from Exeter 
 and twenty from home. There was a hard frost on 
 the ground, and the evening being exceedingly cold, 
 Mr. Bray determined to pass the night at a httle
 
 I.] UNEXPECTED ADVENTURE. 9 
 
 comfortless inn (the only one, I believe, which could 
 then boast such a title in the place), and to continue 
 his journey across Dartmoor on the following morning. 
 
 He retired to a bed that was anything but one of 
 down, and lay shivering all nighty, \nshing for the 
 hour that was to convey him to his o%vn home, where 
 warmth and comfort might be found at such a sea- 
 son. Morning came; but what was his amazement, 
 when, on getting up, the first thing he beheld was 
 the whole face of the sun'ounding country covered by 
 such a fall of snow as he had never before witnessed 
 in Devon, his native county. How to get home 
 was the question ; and, like many other puzzhng 
 quenes, it was more easily started than answered. 
 
 With much eagerness Mr. Bray now consulted 
 landlord and drivers, on the practicability of so de- 
 sirable an object. After much dehberation, every 
 possible expedient being suggested and discussed, 
 the thing was found to be impossible, for the roads 
 were literally choked up \\ith snow, not one could be 
 found passable, either on horseback or in a carriage ; 
 nothing less than a whole regiment of labourers, 
 coidd they have been found, to dig out a passage 
 for many miles, coidd have effected the object ; and 
 even then, so tliickly did the skies continue to pour 
 do^nl theu" fleecy showers, such efforts might have 
 been unavailina:. To reach Tavistock was out of 
 the Cjuestion ; and he next inquired if it might be 
 practicable to get back to Exeter. But the road in 
 that direction was equally choked up ; and the drivers 
 assured him, in their Devonshire phrase, that " not 
 only so thick was the fall of snow, but so hai'd was 
 the frost, that the conchables" (meaning icicles, pro- 
 bably derived from the conch shell, to which indeed 
 
 b3
 
 10 MORETON HAMPSTEAD. [lET. 
 
 they bear some fanciful resemblance) '• hung from 
 the horses' noses as they stood in the stables." 
 
 There was nothing to be done ; and as people must 
 submit to mischances when they cannot run away 
 from them^ he was condemned to exercise Job's vir- 
 tue^, as many others do, because he could not help it. 
 Finding this to be the case, he now began to think 
 how he should contrive to pass the time during liis 
 imprisonment, and the landlady was called up and 
 considted as to what recreations or comforts her 
 house could afford to a distressed gentleman under 
 such circumstances : the prospect was a di"eary one, 
 for neither boohs nor company Avere to be found. 
 Mr. Bray's situation, however, being communicated 
 to the clergyman and squire of the place, he became 
 indebted to both for the kind attentions mth which 
 they endeavoured to cheer the time of his detention 
 at Moreton Hampstead, that lasted during the space 
 of three iceeks ; and at length, Avhen he did escape, 
 he was obhged to reach his own home by travelhng 
 through a most circuitous road. 
 
 Thus, in regard to him, are verified all the con- 
 stituents that are said to have given rise (but with 
 what etymological accuracy I will not vouch) to the 
 name of Moreton Hampstead; i. e. a town on the 
 moor instead of home — for tradition says, that it was 
 so denominated from the circumstance of persons 
 returning after Exeter market being oftentimes com- 
 pelled to pass the night in a few AATetched hovels, 
 on the spot where the town now stands, in lieu of 
 home ; these hovels having originally been colonized 
 by certain vagabonds and thieves who broke out of 
 Exeter gaol in days of old.* 
 
 * I speak here, of course, only of the country tradition ; for the
 
 I.] EFFECTS OF HARD WEATHER. 11 
 
 I have heard, Hkewise, of one or two other in- 
 stances of the effects of hard weather in this neigh- 
 bourhood, which I deem worthy of record in the 
 annals of our town, because they are rare. The 
 first relates to some favourite swans of the above- 
 named gentleman. These fine birds were in pos- 
 session of a piece of water, which had formerly been 
 part of the stew-ponds of the abbey. One morn- 
 ing, during a hard frost, the swans were seen, like 
 the enchanted, inhabitants described in one of the 
 Arabian tales, who had become, all on a sudden, 
 statues of marble. There the birds were — white, 
 beautiful, but motionless. On approaching near 
 them, they were found to be dead and frozen — 
 killed during the night by a sudden and severe frost. 
 I add the follovang anecdote, not onl}"^ as a very 
 remarkable circumstance in this my letter on frost 
 and snows, but also as forming the very first I can 
 meet mth in the life of my husband, whose claim to 
 being ranked among the worthies of Tavistock I 
 intend by and by to estabhsh, when I come to my 
 biographical department. But as I like my cha- 
 racters, vrhenever they can do so, to speak for them- 
 selves, I shall tell this story in Mr. Bray's own words. 
 It may also afford a useful hint to those who are 
 fond of obser\T.ng the gradual changes in the man- 
 ners and customs of polished society ; since our 
 modern fine ladies will be somewhat surprised at 
 the pohteness of the last generation, on occasions 
 of emergency. Here is the extract fi'om Mr. Bray's 
 letter, addressed to myself when I was in London 
 last year. 
 
 real etymology must be from the Saxon ham stede, — i. e., the place 
 of the house, &c.
 
 12 SNOW IN MAY. [let. 
 
 " You must allow this is a very cold May, though 
 a dry one. Mrs. Sleeman, with whom I dined at 
 Whitchurch the other day, told me that it was a 
 common saying among her friends, when any one 
 remarked that the weather was cold in May, ' But 
 not so cold as it was at Mr. Bray's christening, when, 
 on the first of May, so much snow fell in the even- 
 ing, that the gentlemen who were of the party were 
 obliged to carry home the ladies in their arms.' I 
 knew not that any thing remarkable had happened 
 on the day of my christening ; bvit, by tradition, I 
 knew that on my hirth day so great was the re- 
 joicing, that after drinking some imperial Tokay, 
 followed, perhaps, by wines less costly, if not even 
 by common punch, the doctor threw his wig into the 
 fire, and burnt it, whether as an offering to Bacchus 
 orLucina, I know not; but, as I understand the wig 
 was full-bottomed, and v/ell saturated Avith powder 
 and pomatum, the incense could not have been very 
 fi'agrant on the occasion." 
 
 These instances of hard weather are not, however, 
 common ; for so celebrated is the mildness of the 
 climate in this part of the west, that when the doctors 
 can do no more with their consumptive patients, 
 they often send them into Devon, and many have 
 recovered, whose cases were considered hopeless. I 
 have heard it repeatedly asserted, and fi'om a careful 
 inquiry believe the assertion to be true, that no 
 person born and bred on Dartmoor was ever yet 
 known to die of pulmonary consumption \ a certain 
 proof that, however bleak and rainy that place may 
 be, it cannot be unhealthy. This, indeed, is easily 
 accounted for, since the land is high, the air pure, 
 and the waters are carried off by mountain-torrents 
 and streams.
 
 I.] MILDNESS OF DEVON. 13 
 
 As additional proofs of the mildness of our climate, 
 I may add, also, a few facts that have come under 
 •my own observation. I have seen in our garden 
 (Avhich is very sheltered) snow-drops as early as the 
 first week in January. We have some strawberry 
 plants, (I think called the Roseberry, but am not 
 certain,) that grow under the windows of the parlour 
 where I am noAV writing to you ; and so late as the 
 14th of last November, did I pluck a few well- 
 flavoured strawberries from these plants. The slugs 
 devoured some others that were remaining before 
 they were half ripe. The Rev. Dr. Jago, of Milton 
 Abbot, who is a most intelligent observer of nature, 
 informs me, that on the 18th of last December, he 
 saw in his garden the yellow butterfly, an insect 
 seldom seen in midland counties before the month of 
 March. 
 
 I confess that, though a great admirer of birds, I 
 am not sufficiently acquainted mth the feathered 
 tribes to understand critically their " life and con- 
 versation," a circumstance which renders Wliite in 
 his Selborne, and the author of the Journal of a 
 Naturalist, so truly delightful ; but I believe it is no 
 wonder, though it may be as well to mention it, that 
 our blackbirds and thrushes sang to us at Christmas 
 their carols, so lightly and so sweetly, that I, who 
 had the concert for nothing, was as well pleased Avith 
 it as an amateur might be to pay the highest price to 
 hear Signer Paganini play his violin. 
 
 And now what shall I add more in favour of our 
 poor abused climate and its weather ? Shall I tell 
 you that I have often, in the " hanging and disown- 
 ing " month of November, found lively spirits, sun- 
 shine, and beauty on the banks of the Tavy? and
 
 14 MILDNESS OF DEVON. [lET. 
 
 that in December, when the good people of London 
 are lost in fog, in " the dark days before Christmas," 
 as they call them, and substitute gas lights for the 
 sun's beams, I have often enjoyed a lovely walk to 
 Crowndale, the birth-place of Sir Francis Drake, and 
 have experienced that pleasure which I can describe 
 in no language so well as you have done it, in your 
 own winter excursion to Walla Crag; an excursion 
 whose records \nW. endiu^e as long as the scenes it 
 describes, and which will be read with deHght so long 
 as there are hearts alive to nature, truth, and feeling. 
 " The soft calm weather has a charm of its own ; a 
 stillness and serenity unlike any other season, and 
 scarcely less delightful than the most genial da3^s of 
 spring. The pleasure which it imparts is rather 
 different in kind than inferior in degree : it accords 
 as finely mth the feelings of declining life, as the 
 bursting foliage and opening flowers of May with 
 the elastic spirits of youth and hope*." 
 
 I am aware that some of my worthy friends in this 
 part of the world, who find consolation in charging 
 all their infirmities to the score of the weather, would 
 be apt to exclaim against me, and say that I have 
 given too favourable an account of that at Tavistock; 
 but I confess that I like, literally speaking, to be 
 vjeather-wise, and to look on the cheerful side even 
 of the most unpromising things ; and if we have so 
 much rain, and cannot help it, surely it is as vrell to 
 consider the bounties which flow upon us from the 
 skies, as to find nothing in them but sore throats 
 and colds, and to fancy that our Devonshire showers 
 fall, like the deluge, on no other errand than that of 
 destruction. 
 
 * See Colloquies, vol. i.. p. 116.
 
 I.] MILDNESS OF DEVON. 15 
 
 And now, my dear Sir, having commenced my 
 letters, like a true native of England, with talking 
 about nothing but the weather, I shall give you my 
 reasons for proposing to take you, in the next, to 
 Dartmoor, before I set you down amongst the ruins 
 of our abbey. First, then, Tavistock owes not only 
 many of its advantages, but its very name to its river, 
 which rises on Dartmoor. And though the glory of 
 our town, in after ages, was its stately abbey; yet 
 as the river Tavy has associated its appellation with 
 the place from times beyond human record, that fact 
 is a sufficient presumption that it possessed, in the 
 aboriginal age, a certain degi'ee of importance. 
 
 This, indeed, we may consider as confirmed by the 
 inscribed monumental stones of Romanized British 
 chiefs that have been found in this neighbourhood, 
 two of which are still preserved as obeHsks in our 
 garden. On Dartmoor, where this river rises, we 
 find such abundant vestiges of the aboriginal in- 
 habitants of this part of the west, that very imper- 
 fect would be any history of Tavistock which com- 
 menced in the Saxon era. I know there are those 
 who have been sceptical about the Druidical remains 
 on the moor ; but no one should venture to deny the 
 existence of what they have never seen, only because 
 they have never heard of it. We will begin, there- 
 fore, upon Dartmoor in the next letter ; and I trust 
 you will find it not altogether unworthy your atten- 
 tion, as it has much engaged that of. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 Your most gratefully obliged 
 and faithful servant, 
 
 A. E. Brat.
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Dartmoor — Origin of its name — made into a forest by 
 King John— Henry III. gave it bounds — Edward III. bestowed 
 it on the Black Prince — Its extent, &c. — Impression it is calculated 
 to produce on the mind — Granite Tors — Sunshine unfavourable to 
 the Moorland scenery ; various effects produced by the clouds, times, 
 and seasons — Rivers, their character, &c. — ^Variety and beauty of 
 the mosses and lichens — Channels worn by the rivers — Crags and 
 cliffs — Tavy Cleave, its grandeur — Scenery of the Moor where com 
 bined with objects of veneration, their founders being the Druid 
 priests and bards — ^The Moor barren of trees — Soil — Primary and 
 secondary rock — Pasture for cattle — Peat — A hut ; the crook of 
 Devon ; peasantry of the JMoor, children, &c. described — Language 
 of the people. Origin of the word ' Logan ' — Snow-storm on the 
 Moor, and the adventures of a traveller, with a traveller's tale. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, Feb. 20, 1832. 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Dartmoor, or the forest of Dartmoor, 
 (as it is still called in all grants and deeds of the 
 Duchy of Cormvall,) is situated in the western limits 
 of the county of Devon. It is thirty miles in extent 
 from north to south, and fourteen from east to west. 
 Few places are really less known, and few are more * 
 deserving- of attention. It is considered to derive 
 its name from the river Dart, wliich rises on the 
 moor, in the midst of a bog at Cranmere pool. 
 This river, which is sometimes written Darant, is 
 supposed to be called the Dart from the remark- 
 able rapidity of its course. " Dartmoor was," says 
 liisdon, " made into a forest by King John, and not
 
 LET. II.] ORIGIN OF DARTMOOR. 17 
 
 only confirmed by King Henry III., but had bounds 
 set out by him in a charter of perambulation." And 
 Edward III. gave it to his son the Black Prince, 
 when he invested him with the title of Duke of 
 Cornwall. 
 
 This vast tract of land, which has been computed 
 to contain 100,000 acres,* is distinguished by heights 
 so lofty and rugged, that they may in some parts be 
 term.ed mountainous; and though a large portion 
 of the high road, over which the traveller passes in 
 crossing it, presents an unvaried scene of solitariness 
 and desolation, yet to those who pvirsue their in- 
 vestigation of the moor beyond the ordinary and 
 beaten track, much will be found to dehght the 
 artist, the poet, and the antiquary. 
 
 By a mind alive to those strong impressions which 
 the vast and the majestic never fail to create, Dart- 
 moor will be viewed wth a very different feeling 
 to that experienced by the common observer who 
 declares it is " all barren." To him, no doubt, it 
 is so : since, in its bleak heights, he is sensible to 
 nothing but the chilling air ; in its lofty tors, still 
 rude as they Avere created, he sees nothing but bare 
 rocks ; and in its circles of stones, its cairns and its 
 fallen cromlechs, he finds no associations to give 
 them an interest by connecting them \vith the his- 
 tory and manners of ages long past away. 
 
 The feelings inspired by visiting Dartmoor are of 
 a very different order from those experienced on 
 viewing our beautiful and cultivated scenery. The 
 rich pastures, the green hills, the woodland declivi- 
 
 * There are said to be 20.000 acres in addition to this, distin- 
 guished by the name of the Commons.
 
 18 SCENERY. [let. 
 
 ties of Devon ; its valley s^ alive with sparkling 
 streams, and skirted by banks whose verdure never 
 fails, studded as they are \vith cottages and farms, 
 convey to the mind that sense of pleasure which ren- 
 ders the spirits cheerful and buoyant. There is 
 nothing in such scenes to raise a thought allied to 
 wonder or to fear; we know that we could dwell 
 among them in security and peace ; they delight 
 and soften the mind, but they seldom raise in it 
 those deep and impressive reflections, which scenes 
 such as Dartmoor affords seldom fail to create. 
 
 The peculiar character of the moor is derived 
 from its granite tors; these are mostly found on 
 the summits of its munerous heights, and lie piled, 
 mass on mass, in horizontal strata. Some por- 
 tion of dark iron-stone is found amongst them. 
 There are, also, rocks of secondary formation, and 
 several that are considered by geologists to be of 
 volcanic fusion. 
 
 No one who would wish to view the moor in all its 
 grandeur should go there on a very fine or rather 
 sunny day : for it then possesses none of those 
 effects produced by that strong opposition of light 
 and shadow, which mountain-scenery and rugged 
 rocks absolutely recjuirc to display the bold cha- 
 racter of their outline, and the picturesque combina- 
 tions of their craggy tops. Indeed, most scenery 
 derives its pictorial effect principally from the clouds, 
 and even the most beautiful loses half its beauty 
 when viewed in unbroken light. I have seen Dart- 
 moor under most of the changes produced by sun- 
 shine, cloud, or storm. The first shows it to dis- 
 advantage ; for the monotony of its barren heights 
 then becomes predominant. A gathering storm
 
 II.] THE MOOR IN A TEMPEST. 19 
 
 gives it a character of sublimity ; but a day svich as 
 artists call a '-painters day" is that which gives 
 most interest to moorland scenery. 
 
 The pencil is more adapted than the pen to de- 
 Hneate such scenes as mil then be found on the 
 moor. I have often seen it when, as the clouds 
 passed slowly on, their shadowy forms would fall 
 upon the mountain's breast, and leave the summit 
 ghttering in the sun vdih a brilliancy that might 
 bear comparison ^^^Lth the transparent hues of the 
 richest stained glass. The purple tints of evening 
 here convey to the mind ^-isions of more than natural 
 beauty; so etherially do the distant heights mingle 
 themselves with the clouds, and reflect all those 
 delicate and subdued tints of sunset, that render the 
 dying day like the departure of some beneficent 
 prince, who leaves the world over which his course 
 has cast the lustre of liis own "long and lingering" 
 glory. 
 
 And often have I seen the moor so chequered 
 and broken with hght and shade, that it required 
 no stretch of the imagination to convert many a 
 weather-beaten tor into the towers and ruined walls 
 of a feudal castle. Nay, even human forms, gigantic 
 in their dimensions, sometimes seemed to start wildly 
 up as the lords and natural denizens of this rugged 
 wilderness. But who shall picture the effects pro- 
 duced by a gathering tempest? when, as the poet of 
 such scenes so truly describes — " The cloud of the 
 desert comes on, varying in its form A\dth every blast ; 
 the valleys are sad around, and fear, by turns, the 
 storm, as darkness is rolled above." In these mo- 
 ments, the distant heights are seen in colours of 
 the deepest purple, whilst a soHtary ray of the sun
 
 20 MOSSES AND LICHENS. [lET. 
 
 will sometimes break through the dense masses of 
 cloud and vapour, and send forth a stream of light 
 that resembles in brilhancy, nor less in duration, the 
 flash of "Uquid fire." 
 
 The rivers, those veins of the earth that, in their 
 circulation, give life, health, and vigour to its whole 
 frame, here How in their greatest purity. So constant 
 IS the humidity produced by the mists and vapours 
 which gather on these lofty regions, that they are 
 never dry. Sometimes they are found rising, like 
 the Dart, in solitude and silence, or springing fi'om 
 so small a source that we can scarcely fancy such a 
 little rill to be the fountain that sustains the ex- 
 pansive waters of the Tavy and the Teign. But all 
 these rivers, as they pass on, receive the contribu- 
 tions of a thousand springs, till, gathering as they 
 flow, they become strong, rapid, and powerful in 
 their course. Sometimes, bounding"over vast masses 
 of rock, they exhibit sheets of foam of a dazzling 
 whiteness : and frequently form numberless little 
 cascades as they fall over the picturesque combina- 
 tions of those broken slabs of granite which present, 
 growing on their surface, the greatest variety of 
 mosses and lichens to be found throughout the v.hole 
 county of Devon. 
 
 Often do the waters play upon rocks literally 
 covered with moss, that has in it the blackness and 
 richness of the finest velvet. In others, the lichen is 
 white as the purest marble, or varied with the grada- 
 tions of greys, browns, and ochres of the deepest or 
 the palest tints. There is also to be found, on the 
 moor, a small and beautiful moss of the brightest 
 scarlet ; and nothing can be more delicate than the 
 fibrous and filigree formation of various other species.
 
 II.] RIVER-SCENERY. 21 
 
 that can alone be compared to the most minute 
 works in chased silver, which they so much resemble 
 in colonr and in form. 
 
 There are scenes on the moor, hereafter to be 
 noticed more particularly, where the rivers rush 
 throui^h the narrow channels that they haAe torn 
 asunder at the base of the finest eminences of over- 
 hanging crag and cliff. Such is Ta\'}'^ Cleave, an 
 obiect that fills the mind ^^'ith a sense of surprise 
 mingled vnth delight. There, after heavy showers 
 or sudden storms, is heard the roar of the Ta\y, 
 with a power that renders the observer mute whilst 
 he listens to it. There the waters flow Anldlv for- 
 ward as their rush is reverberated amidst the clefts 
 and caverns of the rocks ; and, as they roll their 
 dark and troubled course, they give to the surround- 
 ing scene that character of awe and subhmity which 
 so strongly excites the feelings of an imaginative 
 mind ; for there the deepest solitude to be found in 
 nature is broken by the incessant agitation of one of 
 the most powerful of her elements. Such a contest 
 of waters — of agitation amidst repose — might be 
 compared, by a poet, to a sudden alarm of battle 
 amidst a land of peace, and those struggling Avaves 
 to numerous hosts, as they press on vnth eagerness 
 and furv to the field of strife. 
 
 Indeed, the whole of the river-scenery of Dart- 
 moor is full of interest, more especially where it 
 becomes combined \vith those objects of venera- 
 tion which claim as their founders that " deathless 
 brotherhood" the Druid priests and bards of the 
 most ancient inhabitants of the West. Except in a 
 few instances, the moor is totally barren of trees ; 
 but they are not wanted ; since its vastness, — its
 
 22 MOOR-HUT. [let. 
 
 granite masses, — its sweeping outlines of height or 
 precipice, are best suited to that rugged and solemn 
 character which is more allied to grandeur and sub- 
 limity than to the cheerfulness and placidity of a 
 cultivated or woodland-landscape. 
 
 The soil of the moor is of a deep black colour, 
 and in most parts it is merely a formation of decayed 
 vegetable matter, covering a foundation principally 
 of granite ; for it is not altogether confined to this 
 primary rock, as occasionally there are others of 
 secondary formation. Though there are some bogs 
 as well as marshes on the moor, yet the soil affords 
 the finest pasture for cattle in summer, and produces 
 a vast quantity of peat, that supplies fuel throughout 
 the whole of the year ; whilst the sod also is useful 
 in another way, since a good deal of it is employed 
 in the building of huts, generally composed of loose 
 stones, peat, and mud, in which the few and scattered 
 peasantry of the moor are content to make their 
 dwelling. A hardy and inoffensive race, they, at no 
 very remote period, were looked upon as being little 
 better than a set of savages ; and to this day they 
 are assuredly a very rude and primitive people. A 
 Dartmoor family and hut may be worth noticing ; 
 and a sketch of one will, generally speaking, afford 
 a tolerable idea of all, though there are exceptions, a 
 few comfortable cottages being scattered here and 
 there upon the forest. Imagine a hut, low and 
 irregular, composed of the materials above-named, 
 and covered with a straw roof, or one not unfrcquently 
 formed \\dth green rushes, so that at a little distance 
 it cannot be distinguished from the ground on which 
 it stands. Near the hut there is often seen an out- 
 house, or shed, for domestic purposes, or as a shelter
 
 II.] THE CROOK OF DEVON. 23 
 
 for a cart, if the master of the tenement is rich 
 enough to boast such a convenient rehef to his labour 
 in carrying home peat from the moor. 
 
 But this cart is a very rare possession ; since the 
 moormen most commonly convey their peat, and all 
 things else, on what is called a crook, on the back of a 
 poor, patient, and shaggy-looking donkey. You will 
 say, " What is this crook ? " and I must answer, that 
 I can really hardly tell you ; unless (as did Mr. Bray 
 for the late King, when he was Prince of Wales, at 
 the request of Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt) I make a draw- 
 ing of it, and send it in my letter. This I hope to 
 do when I can find leisure, together Vvath a few more 
 sketches by way of illustrating any subject that may 
 absolutely require the aid of the pencil. In the in- 
 terval, try if you can understand such an account as 
 the follomng, which I confess is an attempt to de- 
 scribe what is indescribable. Imagine the poor 
 donkey, or a half-starved horse, laden first with a 
 huge pack-saddle, never intended to bear anything 
 else but a crook ; and across this saddle is placed 
 that very machine, which is made of wood, and so 
 constructed as to keep from faUing to the ground 
 any load of peat, firewood, &c., that is frequently 
 piled up twice as liigh as the poor beast that bears 
 it. At either side of tliis machine arise too crooked 
 pieces of wood, turning outward hke the inverted 
 tusks of the walrus. These in themselves have a 
 somewhat formidable appearance, but more so when, 
 after they are unloaded, the thoughtless driver, as 
 too frequently happens, places his pitchfork in an 
 oblique direction from the saddle to one of the shafts 
 of the crook : for thus, whilst the animals are ad- 
 vancing at a brisk pace and in no very regular
 
 24 THE DEVILS TOOTHPICK. [lET. 
 
 order, the prong of it may lacerate the leg of any 
 unhappy horseman that meets them, and has not 
 time or dexterity to avoid their onset. The crook is 
 here known by the name of the Devils Toothpick. 
 
 I may here perhaps be permitted to mention an 
 anecdote of the late Mr. Bray, connected with the 
 present subject. On ascending a hill in an open 
 carriage near Moreton, he overtook a man on foot 
 who had the care of several horses, laden with fag- 
 gots on crooks. From the steepness of the acdivity, 
 he was obliged to guide liis horse in a somewhat 
 sinuous direction, and he soon found that some or 
 other of the crook horses invariably crossed him on 
 the road, and considerably impeded his progress. 
 This he was satisfied was ov.-ing to two words of the 
 driver, namely, gee and ree, which he took a ma- 
 licious pleasure in calling out contrary to what he 
 ought, — making them go to the right when they 
 should have gone to the left, and vice versa. Mr. 
 Bray remonstrated, but in vain. At length, wlien 
 he reached the brow of the liill, he said to the churl, 
 " You have had your frolic, and now I will have 
 mine ;" and, not only whipping his o\\'n horse but 
 the others also, he put them into a full gallop. The 
 consequence was that they all threw oft their loads 
 one after the other, the driver begging him in vain 
 to stop, and receiving no other answer than " You 
 have had your frolic, and now I have mine." 
 
 Tlie manners of the peasantry mav in some mea- 
 sure be estimated by tlicir dwellings. They are not 
 overclean ; and thougli tliey are surrounded on all 
 sides by mountain-streams and rills of the purest 
 water, I have generally found, close to tiieir doors, 
 as if they dchghted in the odour it produced, a pool
 
 II.] THE MANNERS OF THE PEASANTRY. 25 
 
 into wliich are thrown old cabbage-leaves and every 
 sort of decapng vegetable matter. 
 
 Out of these huts, as you pass along, you will see, 
 running to gaze upon you, some half-dozen or more 
 of children, not overburdened vdih clothes, and such 
 as they have, like Joseph's coat, being often of 
 many colours, from the industrious patching of their 
 good mothers. The urchins, no doubt, are not bred 
 up as Turks, since ft-equent ablution makes no part 
 of their devotion. Now and then, however, you find 
 a clean face, which is as rare as a dry day on Dart- 
 moor ; and when this is the case, it is generally 
 found worth keeping so, as it discloses a fine, fat, 
 round pair of cheeks, as red, — I must not say as 
 roses though writing to a poet, for the simile would 
 be much too delicate for my Dartmoor cupids, — but 
 as red as a piece of beef, which is a great deal more 
 like the cheeks in question. Legs and arms they 
 have that would suit the infant Hercules ; and if 
 they had any mind to play otf the earliest frolic of 
 that ^eno^\^led hero, the moor would supply the 
 means, since snakes and adders it has in abundance, 
 and a good thing it would be if they were all 
 strangled. 
 
 The hair of these children, which, to borrow the 
 language of Ossian, " plays in the mountain winds," 
 is generally the sole covering of their heads. Tliis 
 sometimes is bleached nearly white with the sun; 
 and, as you pass along, there they stand and stare at 
 you with all their eyes. One token of civilized life 
 they invariably give, as they salute 3'ou vnth that 
 sort of familiar bob of the head now become a refined 
 mode of salutation in fashionable life, so widely 
 differing from the bowing and bending of the days 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 PECULIAR DIALECT. [lET. 
 
 of Sir Charles Grandison, when no gentleman could 
 salute another as he ought to do mthout removing 
 from his head a little three-cornered cocked-hat, and 
 when the management of a lady's fan was an essential 
 part of her good manners in the dropping of a 
 courtesy. 
 
 But I am digressing : to return then to the sub- 
 ject. A peasant, born and bred on the moor, is 
 generally found to be a simple character, void of 
 guile, and, as Othello says of himself, — 
 
 " Rude in speech, 
 
 And little versed in the set phrase of peace ;" 
 
 and to this may be added, very unintelligible to all 
 who are not accustomed to the peculiar dialect of the 
 moor. It is not English ; it is not absolutely Devon- 
 shire, but a language compounded, I should fancy, 
 from all the tongues, — Celtic, Saxon, Cornish, — and, 
 in short, from any language that may have been 
 spoken in these parts during the last 2000 years. 
 I would attempt to give you a few specimens, but I 
 cannot possibly guess how I am to spell their words 
 so as to convey to you any idea of them. I have 
 been assured that they retain some British words 
 resembling the Welsh, and that now and then they 
 use the form of the old Saxon plural, for they some- 
 times talk about their housm and their shooen ; and 
 I once heard a woman tell one of her daughters, in 
 a Dartmoor cottage, " to log the child's cradle." 
 There, thought I, is a British word ; log means to 
 rock, hence logging, or logan stone. Borlase said 
 he could never trace the origin of the word logan. 
 What a pity he had not been driven by a shower of 
 rain into a Dartmoor cottage, where there was a 
 young child and a mother anxious to rock it asleep.
 
 II.] A traveller's tale. 27 
 
 How the ears of a real antiquary would have tingled 
 to have heard but that single expression from the 
 mouth of a peasant, born and bred in the very heart 
 of Druid antiquity. 
 
 Though it certainly is a great libel on the poor 
 people of Dartmoor to consider them, as was the case 
 about a hundred years ago, to be no better than 
 savages, yet, no doubt, they are still of " manners 
 rude," and somcAvhat peculiar to themselves ; but as 
 an instance, like a fact in law, carries more weight 
 with it than a discussion, take therefore the follow- 
 ing as an illustration. It was related to me but 
 last night, by my husband, who had it from a gentle- 
 man who, I conclude, received it from the gentleman 
 to whom the circumstance occurred ; and as all these 
 parties who related it Avere, as Glanville says of his 
 relators when telling his tales about old witches, " of 
 undoubted credit and reputation and not at all cre- 
 dulous," I do not know that you will receive it any- 
 thing the worse for coming to you at the fovu'th 
 hand. Well, then, once upon a time, as the old 
 story-books say, there was a gentleman who, mounted 
 on a horse, (at the breaking up of a very hard and 
 long frost, when the roads were only just beginning 
 to be passable,) set out in order to cross over Dart- 
 moor. Now, though the thaw had commenced, yet 
 it had not melted the snow-heaps so much as he 
 expected : he got on but slowly, and towards the 
 close of day it began to freeze again. The shades 
 of night were draAving all around him, and the 
 mighty tors, Avhich seemed to grow larger and taller 
 as he paced forward, gradually became euA^eloped in 
 vapour and in mist, and the traveller with liis horse 
 did not know Avhat to do. 
 
 c2
 
 28 A traveller's tale. [let. 
 
 To reach Ta\istock that night would be im- 
 possible, as a fresh snow-storm was fast falling in 
 every direction, and would add but another impedi- 
 ment to the difficulties or dangers of his way. To 
 stay out all night on the cold moor, mthout shelter 
 or food, must be certain death, and where shelter 
 was to be found somewhat puzzled the brains of our 
 bewildered traveller. In this dilemma he still paced 
 on, and at length he saw at a distance a certain dark 
 object but partially covered with snow. As he drew 
 nearer, his heart re\dved; and his horse, which 
 seemed to understand all the hopes and fears of his 
 master, pricked up his cars and trotted^ or rather 
 slid, on a little faster. The discovery Avhich had 
 thus rejoiced the heart of man and beast was not 
 only that of the dark object in question, but also a 
 thick smoke, which rose like a stately column in the 
 clear frosty air from its roof, and convinced him that 
 what he now beheld must be a cottage. 
 
 He presently drew nigh and dismoimted ; and the 
 rap that he gave \\ith the butt-end of his whip upon 
 the door was answered by an old woman opening 
 that portal of hope to him and his distresses. He 
 entered and beheld a sturdy peasant, that proved 
 to be the old woman's son, and who sat smoking his 
 pipe over a cheerful and blazing peat fire. The tra- 
 veller's wants were soon made known. An old out- 
 house with a litter of straw accommodated the horse, 
 which, it is not unlikely, ate up his bed for the want 
 of a better supper ; but this is a point not sufficiently 
 known to be asserted. 
 
 Of the affairs of the traveller I can speak with 
 more certainty ; and I can state, on the very best 
 authority, that he felt very hungry and wanted a
 
 II,] A traveller's tale. 29 
 
 bed. Though there was but one besides the old 
 woman's in the house, the son, who seemed to be a 
 surly fellow, promised to give up his own bed for the 
 convenience of the gentlemaii ; adding that he would 
 himself sleep that night in the old settle by the 
 chimney-corner. The good dame busied herself in 
 preparing such food as the house could afford for 
 the stranger's supper ; and at length he retired to 
 rest. Neither the room nor the bedding Avere such 
 as promised much comfort to a person accustomed to 
 the luxuries of polished life ; but as most things 
 derive their value from comparison, even so did these 
 mean lodgings, for they appeared to him to be pos- 
 sessed of all that heart could desire, Avhcn he re- 
 flected how narrowly he had escaped being perhaps 
 frozen to death that night on the bleak moor. 
 Before going to rest, he had observed in the chamber 
 a large oak-chest : it was somewhat curious in form 
 and ornament, and had the appearance of being of 
 very great antiquity. He noticed or made some 
 remarks upon it to the old woman who had lighted 
 him up stairs in order to see that all things in his 
 chamber might be as comfortable as circumstances 
 woidd admit for his repose. There was something, 
 he thought, shy and odd abovit the manner of the 
 woman when he observed the chest ; and, after she 
 was gone, he had half a mind to take a peep into it. 
 Had he been a daughter instead of a son of Eve he 
 would most likely have done so ; but, as it was, he 
 forbore, and went to bed as fast as he could. 
 
 He felt cold and miserable ; and who that does so 
 can ever hope for a sound or refreshing sleep .'' His 
 was neither the one nor the other, for the woman 
 and the chest haunted him in his dreams; and a
 
 30 A TRAVELLER S TALE. [lET, 
 
 hollow sound, as if behind his bed's head, suddenly 
 started him out of his first sleep, when a circumstance 
 occurred which, hke the ominous voice to Macbeth, 
 forbade him to sleep more. As he started up in bed, 
 the first thing he saw was the old chest that had 
 troubled him in his dreams. There it lay in the 
 silvery silence of the moonlight, looking cold and 
 white, and, connected with his di*eam, a provoking 
 and even alarming object of his curiosity. And then 
 he thought of the hollow sound wliich seemed to call 
 him from his repose, and the old woman's odd 
 manner when he had talked to her about the chest, 
 and the reserve of her sturdy son, and, in short, the 
 traveller's own imagination supphed a thousand sub- 
 jects of terror ; indeed so active did it now become 
 in these moments of alarm that it gave a tongue to 
 the very silence of the night, and action even to the 
 most inanimate things ; for he looked and looked 
 ascain, till he actuallv fancied the hd of the chest 
 began to move slowly up before his eyes ! 
 
 He could endure no more ; but, starting from his 
 bed, he rushed fonvard, grasped the lid mth trem- 
 bling hands, and raised it up at once. Who shall 
 speak his feehngs when he beheld what that fatal 
 chest now disclosed ? — a human corpse, stiff and 
 cold, lay before his sight ! So much was he over- 
 come vai\\ the horror of his feelings, that it was 
 with extreme difficulty he could once more reach the 
 bed. 
 
 How he passed the rest of the night he scarcely 
 remembered; but one thought, but one fear, pos- 
 sessed and affonized his whole soul. He was in the 
 house of murderers ! he was a devoted \'ictim ! there 
 was no escape : for where, even if he left the chamber.
 
 II.] A traveller's tale. 31 
 
 at such an libiir, in such a night, where should he 
 find shelter, on the vast, frozen, and desolate moor ? 
 He had no arms, he had no means of flight ; for if 
 plunder and murder might be designed, he Avould 
 not be suffered to pass out, when the young man 
 (now, in his apprehension a common trafficker in the 
 blood of the helpless) slept in the only room below, 
 and through which he must pass if he stuTed from 
 where he was. 
 
 To dwell on the thoughts and feelings of the tra- 
 veller, during that night of terror, would be an end- 
 less task; rather let me hasten to say that it was 
 with the utmost thankfulness, and not Avithout some 
 surprise, that he found himself alive and undisturbed 
 by any midnight assassin, when the sun once more 
 arose and threw the cheerful light of day over the 
 monotonous desolation of the moor. Under any 
 circumstances^ and even in the midst of a desert, 
 there is pleasure and animation in the morning ; like 
 hope in the young heart, it renders all things beau- 
 tiful. If such are its effects under ordinary circum- 
 stances, what must it have been to our traveller, who 
 hailed the renewed day as an assm'ance of renewed 
 safety to liis own life ? He determined, however, to 
 hasten away ; to pay liberally, but to avoid doing or 
 sapng anything to awaken suspicion. 
 
 On descending to the kitchen he found the old 
 woman and her son busily employed in preparing 
 no other fate for him than that of a good breakfast ; 
 and the son, who the night before was probably 
 tired out vnth labom', had now lost what the gentle- 
 man fancied to have been a very surly humour. He 
 gave his guest a country salutation, and hoping "his 
 honour " had found good rest, proceeded to recom-
 
 32 A traveller's tale. [let. 
 
 mend the breakfast in tlie true spirit, though in a 
 rough phrase, of honest hospitality; particularly 
 praising the broiled bacon, as " Mother was reckoned 
 to have a curious hand at salting un in." 
 
 Daylight, ci\'ility, and broiled bacon, the traveller 
 now found to be most excellent remedies against 
 the terrors, both real and otherwise, of his own imagi- 
 nation. The fright had distiu'bed his nerves, but 
 the keen air of those high regions, and the savoury 
 smell of a fine smoking rasher, were great restora- 
 tives. And as none but heroes of the old school of 
 romance ever live \^dthout eating, I must say our 
 gentleman gave con%-incing proofs that h.e under- 
 stood very well the exercise of the knife and fork. 
 Indeed so much did he feel re-assured and elevated 
 by the total extinction of all his personal fears, that, 
 just as the good woman was broiUng him another 
 rasher, he out Anth the secret of the chest, and let 
 them know that he had been somewhat surprised by 
 its contents; venturing to ask. in a friendly tone, 
 for an ex-planation of so remarkable a circumstance. 
 
 " Bless your heart, your honour, 'tis nothing at 
 all," said the young man, " 'tis only faythcr !" 
 
 " Father ! yom- father !" cried the traveller, " what 
 do you mean ?" 
 
 " ^Vhy you see, your honour," replied the peasant, 
 " the snaw being so thick, and making the roads so 
 cledgey-like, when old fayther died, two weeks agon, 
 we couldn't carry un to Tavistock to bury un ; and 
 so mother put un in the old box, and salted un in : 
 mother's a fine hand at salting un in." 
 
 Need a word more be said of the traveller and his 
 breakfast; for so powerful was the association of 
 ideas in a mind as imaginative as that of our gentle-
 
 II.] A TRAVELLERS TALE. 33 
 
 man^ that he now looTvcd \yiih. horror upon the 
 smoking rasher, and fancied it nothing less than a 
 shce of '* old fayther." He got up, paid his lodging, 
 saddled his horse; and quitting the house, where 
 surprise, terror, joy, and disgust had, by turns, so 
 powerfully possessed him, he made his AA'ay through 
 every impediment of snow and storm. And never 
 could he afterwards be prevailed upon to touch 
 bacon, since it always brought to mind the painful 
 feelings and recollections connected vfiih the adven- 
 ture of " salting un in." 
 
 c3
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Wild animals in ancient times on the Moor — Old custom 
 of Fenwell rights — Banditti once common — Road across the Moor ; 
 mode of travelling before it was made — Atmosphere, remarkable — 
 Thunder and lightning, not common — Tradition of Conjuring Time 
 noticed — Witchcraft, still a matter of belief — Extrtmes of heat and 
 cold — Shepherd lost ; his dog — Two boys lost in the snow — Hot 
 vapour on the Moor, its appearance — Scepticism respecting the 
 druidical remains, noticed ; its being wholly unsupported by reason, 
 knowledge, or enquiry — The Damnonii, their origin with the rest 
 of the ancient Britons ; their history, &c. &c. — Camden quoted — 
 Aboriginal inhabitants of the Moor; their Druids, &c. — Orders of the 
 Bards — Poetry — Regal power assumed by the Priesthood — Priests 
 and Bards distinct orders — Sacred groves, &c. — Allegory of Luclan 
 — Tacitus quoted, and other authorities respecting the Druids — Their 
 customs, laws, &c., briefly noticed — Vestiges of British antiquity at 
 Dartmoor — Spoliation there carried on — an assault made on the an- 
 tiquities of the Moor a few years ago, related. 
 
 Ficarage, Tavistock, February 23rd, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I HAVE somewhere seen it asserted that, 
 in former times^ Dartmoor was infested by many 
 wild animals ; amongst them the wolf and the hear : 
 for the latter I have found no authority that would 
 justify me in saying such was the case ; but Prince, 
 I see, mentions in his ' Worthies of Devon/ that, in 
 the reign of King John, the Lord Brewer of Tor 
 Brewer received a licence from his sovereign to hunt 
 the fox, the wild-cat, and the wolf throughout the 
 whole of the county of Devon : Dartmoor, no doubt, 
 afforded a fine field for such a chase. And I may
 
 LET. III.] VENWELL RIGHTS. 35 
 
 here notice that there is a tradition (mentioned also 
 by Polwhele) amongst the people on the borders of 
 the mooF:, which they state to have derived from 
 their forefathers, " that the hill country was inha- 
 bited whilst the vallies were full of serpents and 
 ravenous beasts." 
 
 There is, like\nse^ an old custom, commonly re- 
 ferred to as the " Fenwell rights," which supports 
 the truth of the assertion respecting the wolves : 
 since the " Venwell rights," as the peasantry call 
 them, are nothing less than a right claimed by the 
 inhabitants of a certain district of pastiurage and 
 turf from the fens free of all cost : a privilege handed 
 down to them through many generations, as a reward 
 for services done by their ancestors in destroying 
 the wolves, which, in early times, so much infested 
 the forest of Dartmoor. Many stories and traditions 
 are, indeed, connected ■with these wild regions: 
 some of Mdiich, in due season, I purpose giving you ; 
 and many remarkable customs, now falling fast into 
 decay, were there practised; whose origin, as I shall 
 endeavoiu* to show, ma}* be traced back even so far 
 as the earliest times of which we have any authentic 
 records, subsequent to the invasion of Britain under 
 Caesar. 
 
 It is nothing wonderful that such an extensive 
 waste as the moor, so full of rocks, caverns, tors, and 
 intricate recesses, should have been, in all ages, the 
 chosen haunt of banditti ; and in former days they 
 did not fail to avail themselves of its facilities for 
 conveying away plunder, or for personal security 
 against detection ; whilst the gentry of those times, 
 unless in a numerous and armed company, feared to 
 cross the moor, so dangerous as it was known to be
 
 36 DARTMOOR MISTS. [lET. 
 
 from lawless men, and so reputed to be haunted by 
 the spirits and pixies of credulity and superstition. 
 
 There is now an excellent road across the moor ; 
 as I trust you will find when you next travel west- 
 ward. This road was made between sixty and 
 seventy 3'ears ago ; and till that work was executed 
 it was most perilous to the traveller : for if he missed 
 his line of direction, or became entang-led amidst 
 rocks and marshy grounds, or was enveloped in one 
 of those frequent mists, here so much to be dreaded, 
 that prevented him even from seeing the course of 
 the sun above his head, he had no alternative, but 
 to follow, as M'ell as the difficulty of the way would 
 admit, the course of a river or stream ; and if tliis 
 last resource failed, he was likely to be lost on the 
 moor, and, in the depth of winter, to be frozen to 
 death, as many have there been. 
 
 The atmosphere of Dartmoor deserves particular 
 notice ; it is at all times humid. The rain, Avhich 
 frequently falls, almost without intermission, for 
 many weeks together, is generally ' small ; and re- 
 sembles more a Scotch mist than a shower. Some- 
 times, however, it will pour down in torrents ; but 
 storms, attended with thunder and lightning, are 
 not very common : and whenever they do occur, one 
 would think that the peasantry still retained the 
 superstitious awe of the aboriginal inhabitants of 
 the moor, who worshipped tlmnder as a god under 
 the name of Tiranis ; for they call a storm of that 
 description conjuring time, from the thorough per- 
 suasion that such effects are solely produced by the 
 malice of some potent spirit or devils : though, 
 mingling their Pagan superstitions wilh some ideas 
 founded on Christianity, (just as their forefathers
 
 III.] EXTREMES OF COLD AND HEAT. 37 
 
 did when, on their first conversion, they worshipped 
 the sun and moon, as well as the cross,) they make 
 a clerg^nnan to have some concern in the business : 
 for Avhile " conjuring time ' is going on, he, in their 
 opinion, is as hard at work as the dexils themselves, 
 though in an opposite fashion ; since, on all such 
 occasions, they say, " that somewhere or other in 
 the county there's a parson a laying of a spirit all in 
 the Red Sea, by a talking of Latin to it ; liis clerk, 
 after each word, ever sajdng Amen." 
 
 Indeed, our superstitions here are so numerous, and 
 so rooted amongst the poor and the lower classes, 
 that, I think, before I bring these letters to a close, 
 I shall have it in my power not a little to divert you. 
 Witchcraft is still devoutly believed in by most of 
 the peasantry of Devon : and the distinctions (for 
 they are nice ones) between a witch and a white 
 mtch, and being be\\dtched, or only overlooked by a 
 witch, crave a very careful discrimination on the part 
 of their historian. 
 
 The extremes of cold and heat are felt upon the 
 moor \nth the utmost intensity. Many a poor 
 creature has been there found frozen to death amidst 
 its desolate ra'vines. I remember ha\'ing heard of 
 one instance, that happened many years ago, of a 
 poor shepherd who so perished, and was not found 
 till some weeks after his death : when his dog, 
 nearly starved, (and no one could even conjecture 
 how the faithful animal had sustained his life during: 
 the interval,) was discovered \nstfully watching near 
 the body of his unfortunate master. 
 
 I have also learnt that, a few years since, two lads, 
 belonging to a farm in the neighboiirhood, were sent 
 out to look after some strayed sheep on the moor.
 
 38 HEAT AND VAPOUR. [lET. 
 
 A heavy fall of snow came on, and the boys, not 
 returning, the farmer grew uneasy, and a search 
 after them was commenced without delay. They 
 were both discovered, nearly covered with snow, 
 benumbed, and in a profound sleep. With one of 
 the poor lads, it was already the sleep of death ; but 
 the other was removed in this state of insensibility, 
 and was at length, with much difficulty, restored to 
 Ufe. 
 
 On a sultry day, the heat of the moor is most 
 oppressive; as shade or shelter are rarely to be 
 found. At such a time, there is not, perhaps, a 
 cloud in the sky : the air is perfectly clear and still ; 
 yet, even then, you have but to look steadily upon 
 the heights and tors, and, to your surprise, they will 
 appear in waving agitation. So thin, indeed, is the 
 hot vapour which on such sultry days is constantly 
 exhaled from the moor, that I can only compare it 
 to the reeking of a Hme-kiln. The atmosphere is 
 never, perhaps, other than humid, except in such 
 cases, or in a very severe frost. I have heard my 
 husband say that the wine kept in the cellars of his 
 father s cottage on Dartmoor (for the late Mr. Bray 
 built one there, and made large plantations near the 
 magnificent river-scenery of the Cowsic) acquired a 
 flavour that was truly surprising ; and which, in a 
 great degree, was considered to arise from the bottles 
 being constantly in a damp state. This perpetual 
 moisture upon them was wont to be called " Dart- 
 moor dew ; " and all who tasted the wine declared it 
 to be the finest flavoured of any they had ever ch'unk 
 in England. 
 
 Before I enter upon a minute account of the 
 British antiquities of Dartmoor, it will, perhaps, be
 
 III.] DAMNONIl. 39 
 
 advisable to offer a few remarks, wliich, I trust, may 
 assist in tliro-s^iiig some light upon a subject hitherto 
 treated with shght notice, and not unfrequently with 
 absolute scepticism ; since some, who have never 
 even investigated these remains upon the moor, — 
 who have never even seen them, — have, notwith- 
 standing, taken upon themselves to assert that there 
 are none to be found. But assertion is no proof; 
 and those who shun the labour, patience, and inquiry 
 which are sometimes necessary in order to arrive at 
 truth must not wonder if they often miss the path 
 that leads to it ; but they should at least leave it 
 fairly open to others, who are willing to continue the 
 search. 
 
 It is not my purpose in this letter to enter upon 
 any discussion as to who were the first settlers in 
 tliis part of Britain. Wisliing to inform mj'self 
 upon the subject, many and opposite opinions have 
 I examined; and the only impression that I have 
 received from these discussions was, that the ^Titers 
 themselves were too much puzzled in the mazes of 
 controversy to con\T.nce their readers, however much 
 they might have conAdnced themselves, that each, 
 exclusively, entertained the right opinion. 
 
 It seems to me, therefore, the wsest way to rest 
 satisfied that the Damnonii had one common origin 
 with the rest of the ancient Britons ; and without 
 attempting to penetrate that obscurity which has 
 defied for so many ages the ingenuity of the most 
 patient investigators, to admit without scepticism 
 the commonly-received opinion — namely, that the 
 first settlers in this part of the west were, like the 
 people of Gaul, descended from the Celtse, a branch 
 of the nations from the east. Devonshire, according
 
 40 THE DAMNONII. [lET. 
 
 to Camden, was called Duifneunt, deep valleys, by 
 the Welsh ; and certainly a more appropriate name 
 could never have been chosen for a country so 
 peculiarly characterized by the beauty and richness 
 of its valleys, watered as they are by pure and rapid 
 rivers or mountain streams*. 
 
 The Damnonii, perhaps, were less warlike than the 
 inhabitants of other kingdoms of the Britons ; since 
 they readily submitted to the Roman power, and joined 
 in no revolts that were attempted against it : a cir- 
 cumstance which, according to some historians, was 
 the cause that so little was said about them by the 
 Eoman writers. The Damnonii were distinguished 
 for the numbers and excellence of their flocks and 
 herds. It is possible that this very circumstance 
 might have rendered them less warHke than their 
 neighbours, since the occupations of a pastoral life 
 naturally tend to nourish a spirit of peace ; whereas, 
 the toils, the tumult, and the dangers to which the 
 hunters of those days were constantly exposed in the 
 chase, which so justly has been called " an image of 
 war," must, on the contrary, have excited and kept 
 alive a bold and restless spirit, that delighted in 
 nothing so much as hostile struggles and achieve- 
 ments in the field. 
 
 But still more probable, perhaps, is the conjecture 
 that the Damnonii, from their long and frequent 
 intercourse with the Phoenicians, who traded to their 
 
 * Camden saj's, " the hither country of the Damnonii is now called 
 Denshire ; by the Cornish Britons Dennau ; by the Welsh Britons 
 Duffneynt, — that is, deep valleys ; because they live everywhere 
 here in lowly bottoms ; by the English Saxons, Deiimerchine, from 
 whence comes the Latin Devonia, and that contracted name, used 
 by the vulf^ar, Denshire. It was certainly styled Dyfneiut by the 
 Welsh. See Richards in voce.
 
 III.] THE DRUIDS. 41 
 
 coast, as well as to that of Cornwall, for tin, had 
 become more civilized than the inhabitants of the 
 other kingdoms of Britain. Possibly, indeed, they 
 had learnt to know the value of those arts of peace 
 to which a warlike life is so great an enemy. Hence 
 might have arisen their more willing submission to 
 their Roman conquerors, who were likely to spread 
 yet further amongst them the arts and advantages 
 of ci\Tlized society. This is mere conjecture, but 
 surely it is allowable — since there must have been 
 some cause that operated pov/erfully on a whole 
 kingdom to make it rest satisfied with being con- 
 quered ; and we have no evidence, no hint even 
 given by the earliest wTiters, to suspect the courage 
 or manly spirit of the aboriginal inhabitants of 
 Devon. 
 
 So celebrated v/ere the British priesthood at 
 the time of the invasion of the Romans under 
 Caesar, and so far had their fame extended into 
 foreign lands, that we know, on the authority of his 
 writino-s, " such of the Gauls as were desirous of 
 being perfectly instructed in the mysteries of their 
 religion (which was the same as that of the Britons), 
 always made a journey into Britain for the express 
 purpose of acquiring them." And in these king- 
 doms, as in other nations of Celtic origin, it is most 
 likely that those who preferred peace to tumult, — 
 who had a thirst after the knowledge of their age, 
 — or who liked better the ease secured to them by 
 having their wants supplied by others than the labour 
 of toihng for themselves, became the disciples of the 
 Druids. Their groves and cells, appropriated to 
 study and instruction, afforded security and shelter; 
 and there, undisturbed by outward circumstances.
 
 42 THE DRUIDS. [lET. 
 
 they could drink of that fountain of sacred know- 
 ledge which had originally poured forth a pure and 
 undefiled stream from its spring in the Eastern world, 
 but had become turbid and polluted as it rolled 
 through the dark groves of druidical superstition. 
 
 In these groves, it is bclicAed, they learnt the secret 
 of the one true and only God, the immortality of 
 the soul, and a future state of rewards and punish- 
 ments. But this was held too excellent for the 
 people, who it was deemed requhcd a grosser doc- 
 trine, one more obvious to the senses. To them, 
 therefore, it was not fully disclosed; it was not to 
 be shown in all its simple and natural lustre ; the 
 doctrines which " came of men " were added to it ; 
 and these being of the earth, like the vapours wliich 
 arise from it, ascended towards Heaven only to ob- 
 scure its light *. 
 
 The poetry of the ancient British priesthood has 
 ever been a subject of the highest interest ; and its 
 origin, perhaps, may be referred to the most simple 
 cause. Nothing of import was allowed to be written 
 clown ; nor is there any possible means of knowing 
 
 * There can be little doubt that the Druids, Celts, and Cyclops were 
 all of the same origin. The Druids, in fact, were nuthing more than 
 the priesthood of that colony of the Celtic race established in Britain. 
 There cannot be a stronger proof of the truth of this assertion, than 
 that all Celtic works, in whatever kingdom they are found, are exactly 
 similar. Dr. Clarke, in his delightful * Travels,' mentions several 
 antiquities of Celtic date in Sweden and elsewhere, the same in their 
 construction as those found on Dartmoor. He tells us, that old Upsal 
 was the place renowned for the worship of the primeval idolatry of 
 Sweden ; that a circular range of stones was the spot where its ancient 
 kings went through the ceremony of inauguration. " This curious 
 circle exists in the plains of Mora, hence it is called Morasteen, the 
 word mora strictly answering to our v/ord moor.'''' — Clarke's Travels, 
 vol. ix., p. 216.'
 
 III.] DRUIDICAL SYMBOLS. 43 
 
 wlleii symbols, or written characters, were first intro- 
 duced among them. To supply this defect, it be- 
 came absolutely necessary that the laws, both civil 
 and religious, should be placed in such a form as 
 most readily to be committed to memory, and so 
 transmitted to their posterity. For this purpose no 
 means could be so effective as those of throAving them 
 into the form of apophthegms in verse : the triads 
 are an example. 
 
 In process of time, however, what at first was had 
 recourse to as a matter of necessity, became a subject 
 of delight and emulation ; and poetry, in all proba- 
 bility, was cultivated for its OAvn sake : for its capa- 
 bility of expressing the passions of the soul, for the 
 beauty of its imagery, and the harmony of its num- 
 bers. Those who had most genius would become 
 the best poets ; and giving up their time and atten- 
 tion to the art in which they excelled, it is not im- 
 probable tliat they were left to the full exercise of 
 their talent, and became a distinct, and at last a 
 secondary, order of the Druids : those graver per- 
 sonages, who did not thus excel in verse, retaining 
 and appropriating to themselves the liigher order of 
 the priesthood, — that of performing the rites and 
 ceremonies of rehgion, sitting in judgment on the 
 criminal, and acting the part both of priests and 
 kings : for certain it is that though the regal title 
 was still retained by the princes of the Celtse, all 
 real power was soon usurped by the priests ; and it 
 is not a httle remarkable that, both in ancient and 
 modern times, this tendency to encroachment on the 
 part of the priesthood has always been observable 
 in those who were followers of a false or corrupted 
 religion. Where God, on the contrary, prevails in
 
 44 THE BARDS. [lET. 
 
 all the purity of his worship, where he says to his 
 chosen servants " these shall be my ministers," re- 
 spect, submission, and a willing obedience to civil 
 government, for conscience' sake, invariably accom- 
 panies the holy function and its order. But idolatry, 
 in ancient times, among the heathen Celtse, — in 
 modern, under the popes, — constantly produced a 
 tendency to a quite opposite spirit : Idngs there 
 might be, so long as they were secondary ; but the 
 priesthood, we too often find, were struggling for 
 power, and under the Roman pontiffs, as Avell as 
 under the druids, were frequently found usurping 
 and dispensing- it vnih the most arbitrary rule. 
 
 To return from this digression to the bards : and 
 as I am writing from the very land they once in- 
 habited, and to the bard who, in our own times, so 
 deservedly wears the laurel of England, I feel a more 
 than ordinary interest in my subject, which I trust 
 will plead my apology if I somewhat dwell upon it. 
 
 Supposing, then, that at first there was but one 
 order of the Druidical priesthood, (and I have found 
 nothing to contradict this supposition, which seems 
 most natural,) and that in such order some of the 
 members excelled others in the readiness of throwing 
 into verse the laws and customs of their rchgion and 
 government, and that this talent at length was their 
 sole occupation, till they became, in some measure, 
 secularized priests, it would naturally follow that in 
 process of time the Druids absolutely divided and 
 separated themselves into tivo orders, priests, and 
 bards. And, amongst the latter, another division 
 soon, perhaps, arose ; for some of these excelled in 
 composing the verses connected with the religion 
 and rites of the sacred festivals, whilst others pro-
 
 III.] THE BARDS. 45 
 
 bably took more delight in celebrating the actions of 
 chiefs and kings, and in singing the fame of their 
 heroes who had fallen in battle. Hence came the 
 third order. Those who celebrated the praises of 
 the gods, of covirse, stood higher, in a land of super- 
 stition, than those who merely sung the praises of 
 men. The former, therefore, were called hymn- 
 makers, or vates ; and the latter, bards. So great 
 was the power of this priesthood, whether wholly or 
 separately considered, that its members not only 
 exercised all rites of a sacred nature, but determined 
 upon and excited war, — interfered to command 
 peace, — fi-amed the laws and judged the criminal; 
 and also held within their hands the most useful 
 as well as the most delusive arts of life. They 
 cured the sick, — foretold the events of futurity, — 
 held commerce with invisible spirits, — exercised 
 augviry and divination, — knew all the stars of 
 Heaven and the productions of the earth, and 
 were supreme in all controversies of a public or of 
 a private nature ; whilst their ^vi'ath against those 
 who displeased them vented itself in their terrific 
 sentence of excommunication, — a religious sentence 
 which has scarcely a parallel in history, if we except 
 that of excommunication as it was once enforced by 
 the tyrannic cluu'ch of Rome. 
 
 In the sacred groves, the disciples learnt the fear- 
 ful rites of human immolation to the deified objects 
 of human craft; and, mingling in their study of 
 poetry the beauty and innocence of fiction with some 
 of its worst features, they also made h}Tnns in praise 
 of the seasons, of the birds and the plants, and cele- 
 brated the seed-time, and the " golden harvest," in 
 the numbers of their verse. Here, Hkemse, they
 
 46 DRUIDICAL ORATORY. [lET. 
 
 learnt to frame those war-songs of impassioned 
 eloquence, which depicted the hero in such glowing 
 colours, that they who listened caught the inspira- 
 tion and rose to emulate liis deeds ; and their kino:s 
 and chiefs were sent forth to the battle " %^ith a soul 
 returned from song more terrible to the war." 
 
 The refinements of pohshed life and education 
 were not theirs; but their imagination, unfettered 
 by rules, and impressed from infancy by the wild 
 grandeur of the scenes in Avliich they lived, was 
 strong and bold as the martial spirit of theh race. 
 Those arts which teach men to subdue or to hide 
 their feelings were unkno^^'n; and, follo^^dng the 
 impulse of nature, they became masters in the true 
 eloquence of the heart. Hence arose the power of 
 the bards, in whose very name there is so much of 
 poetry, that, in our own language, we could find 
 no other term so suited to express the feathered 
 songsters of the air, and, therefore, were they called 
 " the bards of the woods*." 
 
 The power of oratory was eminently displayed in 
 N aU their compositions; and so highly was that art 
 esteemed by the Druids of the Celtse, that it gave 
 birth to the beautiful allegory told by Lucian, who 
 savs that, whilst he was in Gaul, he saw Hercules 
 represented as a httle old man, who was called by 
 the people " Ogmius ; " and that this feeble and 
 aged deity appeared in a temple dedicated to his 
 worship, drawing towards him a multitiide who were 
 held by the shghtest chain fastened to their oars and 
 to his tongue. Lucian, wondering what so strange 
 
 * Most of the peasantry in Devonshire still pronounce this word 
 (birds) bardt.
 
 III.] ANC1E^'T BRITISH BARDS. 47 
 
 a symbol was intended to denote, begged that it 
 might be explained to him ; when he was presently 
 told, " that Hercules did not in Gaul, as in Greece, 
 betoken strength of body, but, what was of far 
 greater power, the force of eloquence ; and thus, 
 therefore, Avas he figured by the priests of Gaul." 
 Lord Bacon possibly might have had tliis image in 
 his mind when he so emphatically declared that 
 " knowledge is power." 
 
 All the Celtic tribes appear to have studied these 
 arts with extraordinary success. The Germans, as 
 well as the Gauls and Britons, did so ; for " they 
 abound," says Tacitus, ■' vdih rude strains of verse, 
 the reciters of wliich are called bards; and with 
 this barbarous poetry they inflame their minds Avith 
 ardour in the day of action, and prognosticate the 
 event from the impression which it happens to make 
 on the minds of the soldiers, who grow terrible to 
 the enemy, or despair of success, as the war-song 
 produces an animated or a feeble sound." 
 
 The genius for poetry e^-inced by their bards was 
 one of the most remarkable qualities observable 
 among the ancient priesthood of Britain : so simple, 
 yet so forcible, was the imagery they employed, — 
 so feeUng the language of then* productions, — that, 
 even at this day, such of their poems as have come 
 down to us can never be read \\dth other than the 
 deepest interest by those in whose bosom there is a 
 responsive chord, true to nature and to feehng. 
 The passions they expressed in these poems were 
 rude but manly ; their indignation was aimed against 
 their foes, — against cowardice and treachery ; whilst 
 the virtues of courage, — of generosity, — of tender- 
 ness, — of the " liberal heart " and " open hand,"
 
 48 ANCIENT BRITISH BARDS. [lET. 
 
 were honoured and praised by the Sons of Song ; 
 and the brave man went forth to battle, strong in 
 the assurance that, if he conquered or if he fell, his 
 fame would be held sacred, and receive its honours 
 from the harp of truth. 
 
 The learning of the British priesthood has been 
 frequently spoken of by ancient authors in terms of 
 commendation ; and in tliis particular they have 
 been ranked with the nations of the East. Pliny 
 compares them to the magi of Persia, and says they 
 were the physicians as well as the poets of the 
 country. Caesar observes that they had formed 
 systems of astronomy and natural philosophy. 
 Twenty years of study was the allotted time for 
 rendering a novice competent to take upon him the 
 sacred order ; and, when initiated, the education 
 of the sons of the British nobles and kings, the 
 mysteries of religion, legislation, and the practice of 
 the various arts that were exclusively theirs, must 
 have afforded ample scope for the constant exercise 
 of that learning wliich had been acquired with so 
 much diligence and labour. 
 
 That they exercised their genius, also, on matters 
 of speculative philosophy, cannot be doubted ; since 
 Strabo has recorded one of their remarkable opinions 
 respecting the universe ; — " that it was never to be 
 destroyed, but to undergo various changes, some- 
 times by the power of fire, at others by that of 
 water." And Cajsar mentions their disquisitions 
 on the nature of the planets, " and of God, in 
 the power he exercised in the works of his crea- 
 tion." Many opinions, purely speculative, have been 
 broached to account for the choice of a circular figure 
 in their temples. Some have supposed it was de-
 
 III.] DRUIDICAL LEARNING. 49 
 
 signed to represent that eternity which has neither 
 a beginning nor an end. But it is not improbable 
 that, as they taught the multitude to worship visible 
 objects, the form of their temples might have had a 
 reference to those objects; and the planets they so 
 much studied (the sun and moon, in particular, as 
 the chief amongst their visible deities) might have 
 suggested an imitation of their form in the circular 
 shape of the temples dedicated to their worshij). 
 
 The use of letters was not unknown to the Druids 
 of Britain; for Csesar states " that in all affairs and 
 transactions, excepting those of religion and learn- 
 ing," (both of which belonged to the mysteries of 
 Druidism,) "■ they made use of letters, and that the 
 letters which they used were those of the Greek 
 alphabet*." There was no want, therefore, of that 
 learning which is requisite for the purposes of history, 
 had they chosen to leave a written record of the 
 public transactions of their country. But in these 
 early times the poet was the only historian ; and his 
 verses were committed to memory, and were thus 
 handed down from age to age. The laws were 
 framed and preserved by the same means ; so that, 
 
 * The Rev. Edward Davies, in his most interesting account of the 
 Lots and Ihe Sprig Alphabet of the Druids, has very satisfactorily 
 shown that many antiquaries, by an inattentive reading of a particular 
 passage in Caesar, adopted the erroneous notion that the British priests 
 allowed nothing to be written down ; whereas, Caesar only states that 
 they allowed their scholars to commit nothing to writing. The 
 symbols, or sprigs, chosen from different trees, gave rise to the sprig 
 alphabet of Ireland ; and Toland, in his verj' learned work on the 
 Druids of that country, has established fhe fact of their h.ivirig some 
 permanent records, by a reference to the stone memorials of Ireland, 
 which in his day, about a century ago, still bore the vestiges of 
 Druidical inscriptions. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 DRL'IDICAL SCHOOLS. [lET. 
 
 in those days, what are now the two most opposite 
 tilings in the hterature of modern nations, — law and 
 poetry, — went hand in hand ; and the lawyers of the 
 ancient Britons were unquestionably the wearers of 
 the long blue robes instead of the black ones*. 
 
 It Avas, indeed, a favourite practice with the 
 nations of antiquity to transmit their laws from 
 generation to generation merely by tradition. The 
 ancient Greeks did so ; and the Spartans, in par- 
 ticular, allowed none to be written down. The 
 Celtse observed the same custom; and Toland 
 mentions that, in his time, there was a vestige of it 
 still to be found in the Isle of Man, where many of 
 the laws were traditionary, and were there known 
 by the name of Breast Laws. WTien speaking of 
 the jurisprudence of these primitive nations, Tacitus 
 gives a very striking reason for the administration of 
 the laws being confined to the priesthood. " The 
 power of punisliing," sa^-s that delightful historian, 
 " is in no other hands : when exercised by the 
 priests, it has neither the air of -vindictive justice 
 nor of military execution ; — it is rather a leligious 
 sentence.''' * * '• And all the people," says Strabo, 
 " entertain the highest opinion of the justice of the 
 Druids : to them all judgment, in public and private 
 — in ci\dl and criminal cases, is committed."' 
 
 We learn, also, from the classical writers, that the 
 Druids had schools or societies in which they taught 
 
 * In the ' Triads,' the bards are described as wearers of this par- 
 ticular dress, whicli no doubt was adopted to distinguish them from 
 the white-robed Druids : " Whilst Menu lived, the memorial of bards 
 was in request ; whilst he lived the sovereign of the land of heroes, 
 it was his custom to bestow benefits and honour and fleet coursers on 
 the wearers of the /ong blue roles."
 
 III.] DRUIDICAL SUPERSTITIONS. 51 
 
 their mysteries, both civil and religious, to their 
 disciples ; — that such seats of learning were situated 
 in forests and groves remote from, or difficult of, 
 general access ; since secrecy and mystery were the 
 first rules of theh instructions. Had they taught 
 only truth, neither the one nor the other would have 
 been requhed ; since it is only falsehood that seeks 
 a veil, and when that is once lifted, she is sure to be 
 detected. False rehgions, or those corrupted by 
 the inventions of men, have always observed the 
 same kind of mysticism, not only in rude but in 
 polished ages also. No one was suffered to lift the 
 sacred mantle of the goddess Hertha, except the 
 priest : the people were charged to believe in her 
 most terrific superstitions, but none could see her 
 and Hve*. The popes insisted on the same kind of 
 discipline : their own infallibihty was the chief point 
 of faith; but no layman was to open that sacred 
 book in which it could not be found. 
 
 To enlarge on the frauds, the arts of magic, 
 soothsapng and divination, practised by the Druids 
 to blind and lead the multitude, would extend much 
 beyond the proposed hmits of this letter. Should it 
 never go farther than Keswick, all that I have said 
 respecting the ancient priesthood I know would be 
 unnecessary. But should these papers so far meet 
 your approval as to sanction their hereafter appear- 
 ing in print, I must consider what might be useful 
 to the mere general reader ; and it is possible that 
 some one of that class may not have troubled him- 
 self much about the early history of that extra- 
 ordinary priesthood who once held a power so truly 
 
 * See * Manners of the Germans.' Murphy's Tacitus, page 351. 
 
 d2
 
 52 WILDS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 regal in the islands of Great Britain. To such 
 readers, this sketch, slight as it is, may not be un- 
 acceptable, should it only excite in them a wish to 
 consult better authorities ; and I trust, also, it may 
 serve the chief purpose which I now have in view — 
 namely, that of raising some degree of interest, by 
 speaking of the Druids, to lead them, should they 
 have the opportunity, to an examination of those 
 ancient Aestiges and structures that still remain on 
 the wilds of Dartmoor. Of these I shall speak in 
 the subsequent letters ; and in doing so I shall 
 endeavour to execute my task with fidelit}-, since 
 not the least motive in prompting me to it is the 
 wish I entertain to throw some light on a subject 
 that has hitherto been involved in much obscuritv ; 
 and even my labours, like those of the " little busy 
 bee," may bring something to the hive, though they 
 are gathered from the simplest sources around me. 
 
 I may also add, that in pointing out to this neigh- 
 bourhood in particular the connexion that really 
 exists between the remains of British antiquity (so 
 widely scattered on the moor) and the early history 
 and manners of the iirst inhabitants of their country, 
 it is to be hoped that a sufficient interest may be 
 excited in favour of those vestiges, to check the 
 unfeeling spoliation which has of late been so rapidly 
 carried on. When we find on Dartmoor masses of 
 granite, buried under the earth and resting iqion its 
 surface, — here lying close to the road, and there 
 impeding the culture of its soil — surely it would 
 be better to serve the pvu'poses of commerce from 
 sources like these, than to despoil (as they are now 
 doing) the summits of its eminences, — of those very 
 tors that give beauty and majesty to the desolation
 
 Ill 
 
 1 ASSAULT ON DARTMOOR. 63 
 
 of the moor. The cairns, — the obelisks, — the circles, 
 and the poor remains of British huts, might he per- 
 mitted to last out their day, and to suffer from no 
 other assaults than those which are inevitable — time 
 and tempest ; and these are enemies that will not 
 pass over them in vain. 
 
 Dartmoor has, indeed, been a field to the spoiler ; 
 and many of its most interesting memorials have 
 been destroyed within the last twenty or thirty 
 3"ears : for during those periods, vast walls of stones, 
 piled loosely together without cement, and extend- 
 ing, in every direction, for many miles, have been 
 placed up as boundaries or enclosures for cattle. 
 This great demand for stones caused the workmen 
 to remove those which lay, as it were, ready to their 
 hand ; you may judge, therefore, what havoc it made 
 with the circles, cairns, and cromlechs. Others 
 — such as were straight and tall — have been carried 
 off (so the people of the moor tell me) to make 
 rubbing-posts for cattle, a rubbing-post being some- 
 times called " cows' comfort" in Devon. 
 
 One assault on the antic^uities of Dartmoor was so 
 atrocious that it must not here be passed in silence. 
 Many years ago, a young man of this place cele- 
 brated his freedom from his apprenticeship by lead- 
 ing out a parcel of young fellows, as wanton and as 
 silly as himself, to Dartmoor, for no other pin-pose 
 than that of giving themselves the trouble to do 
 what they could in destroying its antiquities. As if, 
 like the ancient inhabitants of the moor, they had 
 been worshippers of the god Hu, — the Bacchus of 
 the Druids, — they commenced the day with a liba- 
 tion, for they made punch in the rock-basins, and 
 roared and sung as madly as any of the old devotees
 
 54 ASSAULT ON DARTMOOR. [lET. III. 
 
 mio'lit have done durino- tlie riots of a saturnalia in 
 honour of Hu himself in the days of his pride. This 
 rite accomplished, and what small remains of wit 
 they might have had being fairly di'iven out by these 
 potent libations, they \vere ungrateful enough to 
 commence their havock by destropng the very 
 punch-bowl which had served them, and soon set 
 about the rest of theh work. They were a strong 
 and a willing band ; so that logans were overturned, 
 obelisks knocked down, and stones rooted from their 
 circles, till, work as hard as they would, they found 
 the Druids had been too good architects to have their 
 labours shaken and upset in a day. They left off at 
 last for very Aveariness, ha^dng accomphshed just 
 sufficient miscliief to furnish the morahzing antiquary 
 who wanders over Dartmoor with the reflection their 
 wanton havoc suggests to his mind, — that A\dsdom 
 builds not withoiit time and labour ; but that folly 
 overturns in a day that which it could not have pro- 
 duced in an age — so much easier is it at all times to 
 effect evil than to do good*. 
 
 AUow me the honour to remain. 
 My dear Sir, 
 Ever truly and faithfully yours, 
 
 A. E. Bray. 
 
 * I am the more induced to dwell on this circumstance, since, even 
 in our own day, a naval officer overturned the celebrated logan ia 
 Cornwall ; and, much to the credit of government, was compelled to 
 set it up aguiu, which he effected with extreme ditEculty.
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Subject coutinued — Dartmoor, a region fitted by na- 
 ture for the rites of Druidism — Tors retain their British names — 
 Hessor3--tor, Bel-tor, Mis-tor, Ham-tor, noticed by Borlase — Bair 
 (or Baird) Down — Wistman's Wood — Secrecy and mystery observed 
 by the Druids in their societies — Solitary places and deep groves — 
 Antique Forest ; its only vestige — Trunks of trees found in bogs 
 and below the surface — Birds sacred to British superstition still seen 
 on the Moor — Black Eagle once found there — Story of the white- 
 breasted Bird of 0.\;enham — Heath Polt, or Moor Blackbird— Birds 
 in flocks— Dartmoor probably the largest station of Druidism in 
 Britain — Reasons assigned as the probable causes wherefore the 
 Druidical Remains on the Moor are of less magnitude than those of 
 other and more celebrated stations — Circles on the Moor ; memorials 
 of consecration of the Tors — Architects of Egypt ; level country — 
 Vixen Tor compared to the Sphinx; rock-basins on its top — Lines 
 from Carrington — Morning on the Moor — Herds of Cattle, &c. — 
 Extraordinary Feat of a Dartmoor Pony — Insect world — Cuckoo 
 lambs — Birds of the Moor, rare and common, briefly noticed. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, Devon, Feb. 25, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 The earliest records respecting the history of 
 Dartmoor must be sought on the moor itself, and 
 that with no small diligence and labour. And as I 
 presume no reasonable person would den}- that the 
 Damnonii, as indeed all the other inhabitants of 
 Britain, \iphcld the priesthood of Druidism, I shall 
 proceed to show that, tliroughout the whole comity, 
 no place was so fitted to the august rites of their 
 superstition, to the solemn com*ts of their judicature.
 
 56 HILLS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 or to the mj-ster}- and retirement which they sought 
 in the initiation of their disciples, as amid the rugged 
 and rock-crowned hills of Dartmoor. 
 
 We know that the Druids not only held it unlaw- 
 ful to perform the rites of their religion ^^'ithin 
 covered temples, but that they preferred, whenever 
 they could be found, eminences and lofty heights for 
 that purpose ; as such situations gave them a more 
 open and commanding view of those planets which 
 they studied as philosophers and worshipped as 
 idolaters. 
 
 Dartmoor abounds in heights that, in some in- 
 stances, assume even a moimtainous character; and 
 when we find that many of these retain to the present 
 hour the A"ery names of those false gods (though cor- 
 rupted in their pronunciation, as are the names of 
 towns and A-illages. by the lapse of years and the 
 changes in language) to whom altars were raised by 
 the priesthood of Britain, surely this circumstance 
 alone becomes a strong presumptive e\-idence that 
 the moor itself was a chosen spot for the ancient and 
 idolatrous worship of the Damnonii. I shall here 
 give a few of the most prominent examples ; and it 
 is not unlikely that any one learned in the old British 
 tongues — the Cornish or Welsh — would be able to 
 find a significant meaning in the names of various 
 other heights and tors on the moor, that now sound 
 so strange and whimsical to unlearned ears like my 
 own. 
 
 The Britons worshipped the Almighty, or, as he 
 was not unfrequentlv called, the God of Battles, 
 under the name of Hesus. On Dartmoor we find a 
 height called Hessory-for. The sun, that universal 
 object of adoration even from the earliest times Avith
 
 IV.] TOR-HEIGHTS. 57 
 
 heathen nations, was also held sacred by the Druids, 
 and the noblest altars and temples were dedicated 
 to his honour. The sun was adored under various 
 names, but none more commonly than that of Belus, 
 or Bel*; and on Dartmoor we have Bel-tor to this 
 day. The sun, and also the moon, Avere sometimes 
 worshipped under the names of Mithra or Misor : on 
 the moor we have Mis-tor, a height on whose con- 
 secrated rocks there is found so large and perfect a 
 rock-basin as to be called by the peasantry Mis-tor 
 Pan. Ham, or Amnion, was ranked amongst the 
 British deities : on Dartmoor the heathen sod still 
 possesses his eminence, unchanged in name, as we 
 there find Ham-tor to this dav ; and my venerable 
 and learned friend, the Rev. Mr. Polwhele, in liis 
 ' History of Devon,' refers to the worship of that 
 deity all the numerous Hams of this county f. We 
 have also a spot which you as a poet must visit, — 
 Baird-dou-n (pronounced Bair-down), which Mr. 
 Bray conjectures to mean the hill of bards ; and, 
 opposite to it, Wistman's, or (as he also conjectures) 
 Wisemans Wood, of which I shall presently speak 
 in a very particular manner, as embracing some of 
 the most remarkable points of Druid antic[uity to be 
 found throuo'hout the whole rano-e of the moor. 
 
 We learn from Csesar, and other classical writers, 
 that the Druids lived in societies and formed schools. 
 
 * Borlase notices these tors on Dartmoor as still bearing the names 
 of Druid gods. 
 
 t According to Kennel's ' Glossarj-,' hov.-ever, Hamma is from the 
 Saxon Ham, a house ; hence Hamlet, a collection of houses. It some- 
 times meant an enclosure ; hence to hem or surround. This is the 
 seuse in which it seems chiefl}' used in Dtvonshire, as the South- 
 hams, &c. 
 
 d3
 
 58 SCEKERY OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 in which they taught the mysteries of their learning, 
 their rehgion, and their arts. We find, also, that 
 such seats of instruction were situated in forests and 
 groves, remote from or difficult of general access ; 
 since secrecy and mystery accompanied all they 
 taught. Where, therefore, could the priesthood of 
 the Damnonii have found, throughout the whole of 
 the west, a place more suited to these purposes than 
 Dartmoor ? 
 
 It was a region possessed of every natural ad- 
 vantage that could be desired in such an age and by 
 such a people. It was surrounded and girded by 
 barrier rocks, hills and eminences, mountainous in 
 their character. No enemy could approach it with 
 any hostile intent, Avithout having to encounter 
 difficuftics of an almost insurmountable nature ; and 
 such an approach would have been announced by 
 the flaming beacons of the hundred tors, that would 
 have alarmed and called up the country to prepare 
 for defence in every direction. 
 
 Though Dartmoor is now desolate, and where the 
 oak once grew there is seen but the lonely thistle, 
 and the " feebly-whistling grass," and its hills are 
 the hills of storms, as the torrents rush down tlimr 
 sides, yet that it was once, in part at least, richly 
 clothed with wood cannot be doubted. The very 
 name, so ancient, which it still bears, speaks its 
 original claim to a sylvan character — the Forest of 
 Dartmoor*; and though of this antique forest no- 
 thing now remains but the wasting remnant of its 
 days, in the " lonely wood of Wistman," (as Car- 
 
 ' * Foresta q. d. Feresta, hoc est ferarum static. Vide Du Cange in 
 voce, who defines it also Saltus, Silva, Nemus, evidently inclining to 
 the opinion that it should be a woody tract/
 
 IV.] wistman's wood. 59 
 
 rington has designated it,) to show where the groves 
 of the Avise men, or Druids once stood, yet evidence 
 is not wanting to prove what it has been : since in 
 bogs and marshes on the moor, near the banks of 
 rivers and streams, sometimes imbedded twenty feet 
 below the surface of the earth, are found immense 
 trunks of the oak and other trees *. 
 
 These rivers and streams, which everywhere 
 abound on the moor, aiforded the purest waters; 
 and many a beautiful and bubbling fountain, which 
 sprang from the bosom of that earth, once wor- 
 shipped as a deity by the Celtic priesthood, (and to 
 whom they ascribed the origin of man) became, no 
 dovibt, consecrated to the mysteries of her circle and 
 her rites. It is not unprobable that one or two 
 springs of this nature, still held in high esteem on 
 the moor, may owe their sacred character to the 
 superstitions of the most remote ages : such, per- 
 haps, may be the origin of that estimation in which 
 Fice's Avell is still held ; but of this more hereafter. 
 
 The groves of oak, whose " gloom," to use the 
 language of Tacitus, " filled the mind \ni\\ awe, and 
 revered at a distance, might never be approached 
 but with the eye of contemplation," were filled with 
 the most varied tribes of feathered inhabitants. Some 
 of these were of an order sacred in the estimation 
 of Druid superstition. The raven was its tenant, 
 whose ill-omened appearance is still considered as 
 the harbinger of death, and still is as much dreaded 
 b}'^ the peasantry as it was in the days of ancient 
 augury and divination. The black eagle, that native 
 
 * A very large trunk of an oak tree so found on Dartmoor is now 
 preserved in the vicarage gardens of Tavistock.
 
 60 DRUIDICAL OMENS. [lET. 
 
 of the moor, long spread her sable wing;, and made 
 her dwelling amidst the heights and the crags of 
 the rocky tors, when she had long been driven from 
 the valleys and the more cultivated lands. She is 
 still said to revisit the moor, like a spirit of other 
 times, who may be supposed to linger around the 
 scenes in which she once proudly held her sway; 
 but her nest is nowhere to be found*. There also 
 the " white-breasted bird of Oxenhamf ," so fatal to 
 that house, still appears with her bosom pure and 
 unsullied as the Druid's robes, and, like him, raises 
 a cry of augury and evil. Her mission done, she is 
 seen no more till she comes again as a virgin mourner 
 complaining before death. There, too, may be 
 found the heath poult, or moor black-bird, once held 
 sacred : so large is it, and sable in colour, that it 
 might, at a little distance, be mistaken for the black 
 eagle. Her eye, with its lid of the brightest scarlet, 
 still glances on the stranger who ventures on the 
 recesses of the moor ; and, like a Avatchful genius at 
 the fountain, she is chiefly seen to make her haunt 
 near the source of the river Dart. 
 
 * "I have been told," says Mr. Polwhele in his 'Devon,' " by a 
 gentleman of Tavistock, that, shooting on Dartmoor, he hath several 
 times seen the black eagle there, though he could never discover its 
 n(st." 
 
 f " There is a family" (says Prince, speaking of Oxenham, in his 
 ' Worthies of Devon') " of considerable standing of this name at South 
 Tawton, near Oakhampton in this county ; of which is this strange 
 and wonderful thing recorded, That at the deaths of any of them, a 
 bird, with a white breast, is seen for a while fluttering about their 
 beds, and then suddenly to vanish away. Mr. James Howell tells us 
 that, in a lapidary's shop in London, he saw a large marble-stone, to 
 be sent into Devonshire, with an inscription, ' That John Oxenham, 
 Mary, his sister, James, his son, and Elizabeth, his mother, had each 
 the appearance of such a bird fluttering about their beds as they were 
 dying." '
 
 IV.] WOODS, ETC., OF DARTMOOR. 61 
 
 No place could have been better adapted for 
 observing the flight of birds in Druid augury, than 
 the woods and heights of Dartmoor. I have often 
 there seen them in flocks winging their way, at a 
 vast elevation across its hills. Sometimes they 
 would con<rreo;ate too-ether, and \\'ith a sudden 
 clamour that was startling, rush out from the crags 
 and clefts of one of the granite tors, with the utmost 
 velocity. At others, they would pause and rest for 
 a moment among the rocks, or skim along the rivers 
 and foaming streams, and dip their wings and rise 
 again with restless rapidity. 
 
 The vast quantity of rock, the masses of granite 
 that are ever3"where strewn throughout the moor, 
 the tors that crowned the summits of every hill, 
 must have afforded such facilities for the purpose of 
 their altars, circles, obelisks, cromlechs and logans, 
 that no part of this kingdom had, perhaps, a more 
 celebrated station of Druidism than Dartmoor : not 
 even Mona, Classerness, nor the plains of Abury 
 and Salisbury. But they who, like the Druids 
 themselves, have been accustomed to pay an almost 
 idolatrous worship to that primitive and most noble 
 structure Stonehenge, may here exclaim, — " If this 
 be true, how is it that you have no such memorial of 
 equal magnitude on Dartmoor ?" 
 
 To this I answer, Stonehenge (like Carnac in 
 Britanny, which I have cvirsorily visited and de- 
 scribed*) stands on a plain : it required, therefore, 
 such a structure to give to the ceremonies of dru- 
 idical worship that awful and imposing effect which 
 Tacitus so repeatedly implies to have formed the 
 
 * In ' Letters written during a Tour through Normandy and 
 Britanny in 1818.'
 
 62 ANTIQUITIES ON DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 chief character of their relig-ioiis mysteries. On the 
 plains of Salisbury nature had clone nothing for the 
 grandeur of Druidism, and art did all. On Dart- 
 moor the priests of the Britons appropriated the 
 tors themselves as temples, erected by the hand of 
 nature, and ^^ith such majesty, that their chcles were 
 only memorials of their consecration : so that what 
 in level countries became the most imposing object, 
 was here considered as a matter of comparative 
 indifference. In such scenes a Stonehenge would 
 have dwindled in comparison vnih the granite tors 
 into perfect insignificance ; it would have been 
 as a pjTamid at the foot of Snowdon. The archi- 
 tects of Egypt, like the Druids of Salisbury Plain, 
 had a level country to contend with, and they gave 
 to it the glory of mountains, as far as art may be 
 said to imitate Nature in the effect of her most stu- 
 pendous works. 
 
 Whoever attentively examines the tors and ves- 
 tiges of antiquity on Dartmoor will soon be convinced 
 that art was but very sHghtly employed in the 
 masses of granite which crowm the heights that were 
 consecrated to the divinities of British idolatiy. In 
 Vixen-tor, that sphinx of the moor, the mass was so 
 completely formed by nature to suit their desires, 
 that three basins, chiselled on the very summit of 
 this lofty and insulated rock, is the only mark left of 
 its having been selected for an}- one of the nu- 
 merous rites of Druidical superstition. 
 
 On Dartmoor, then, we may fairly conclude that 
 whatever was most advantageous to the hierarchy of 
 the ancient Britons was most amply to be found; 
 and, in my next letter, I shall proceed to a more 
 minute examination of what use was made of such
 
 iV.J SUBLIMITY OF DARTMOOH. 63 
 
 advantages, b)-^ describing wliat still remains to 
 interest us as records of the being, the histoiy, and 
 the religions rites of the priests of the Damnonii. 
 Nor can I conclude these remarks without observing 
 that, on the moor, the Druid moved in the region of 
 the vast and the subhme : the rocks, the ^^'inter 
 ton-ent the distant and expanded ocean, the works 
 of the great God of nature, in their simplest and in 
 their most imposing character, were all before his 
 view; and often must he have mtnessed, in the 
 strife of elements, that scene so beautifully described 
 by our poet, who has celebrated the moor with a 
 feeling true to nature, and with a boldness and 
 •\dgour suited to the grandeur of the subject he 
 pourtrayed. 
 
 " Fierce, frequent, sudden is the moorland storm ; 
 And oft, deep sheltered in the stream-fed vales, 
 The swain beholds upon the lessening tor 
 The heavens descend in gloom, till, mass on mass 
 Accumulated, all the mighty womb 
 Of vapour bursts tremendous. Loud resounds 
 The torrent rain, and down the guttered slopes 
 Rush the resistless waters. Then the leap 
 Of headlong cataract is heard, and roar 
 Of rivers struggling o'er their granite beds — 
 Nor these alone — the giant tempest passed, 
 A thousand brooks their liquid voices raise 
 Melodiously, and through the smiling land 
 Rejoicing roll." 
 
 And here, ere I say farewell, let me pause a moment 
 to express my regret for that indifference wdth which 
 many persons, in this part of England, look on 
 Dartmoor. Carrington found in it a subject for a 
 poem that has ranked Iris lamented name amongst 
 the first of our British bards. And though all are 
 not poets, nor have the feelings that are allied to
 
 64 MORNING ON THE MOOR. [lET. 
 
 poetry, yet all might find some pleasure, would they 
 but learn to value it, — a pleasure pure as it is 
 powerful, — in the heights and valleys of the lonely 
 moor. 
 
 A morning's walk there, in the spring or the 
 summer, is attended with a freshness, from the 
 bracing temperature of the air, which gives cheer- 
 fulness to the mind and content to the heart. A 
 thousand circumstances in Nature everywhere lie 
 around to interest him who would but A^ew her with 
 a kindly and a feeling eye. The mists that hang 
 about the tors are seen gradually dispersing ; and 
 the tors themselves, as we watch them, seem to put 
 on a thousand forms, such as fancy sTiggests to 
 delight the mind in which she dwells. The cattle 
 are seen arovmd, grazing on the verdant pastures, 
 studded with myriad drops of dew. As we look on 
 them, they call to mind some of the bronze works of 
 antiquity that so nobly represented those creatures : 
 for in symmetry of form and limb, as well as in rich- 
 ness of colour, the cattle of Devon are models of 
 beauty in their kind. The wild horses and colts, 
 with their unshorn and flowing tails and manes, 
 recall also to our recollection the forms of antique 
 sculp tvire. To observe them in action, as they 
 bound, race, or play together, in the very joy 
 of their freedom, afibrds a spectacle of animal 
 delight that is replete with interest. The horse 
 thus seen in his natural state, before he is ridden 
 by man, becomes a perfect study for a painter, 
 and gives a much finer view of that noble creature 
 than can be witnessed by those who have only seen 
 him trimmed and saddled from a stable*. And the 
 
 * The following circumstance, respecting a pony tliat was one of. a
 
 IV.] ANIMALS ON THE MOOR, 65 
 
 poor ass, that useful and patient drudge, — an animal, 
 excepting the goat, the most picturesque in nature, 
 — is seen quietly browsing on the grass, waiting the 
 hour of labour in the ser\'ice of his master. 
 
 The instinct of the lambs and the care of their 
 mothers have often interested me, as I have observed 
 the perseverance with which one of the latter woidd 
 range around the flock till she found her own off- 
 spring, to give it the earliest meal of her living milk. 
 And the bleating of some other poor little straggler, 
 as it would stand still and call vipon its dam, Avas so 
 like the cry of infancy, that it could not fail to raise 
 a feeling of pity for so helpless and harmless an 
 animal*. 
 
 The rivers and streams, as they run in the morn- 
 ing light, have something so exhilarating that it 
 glads the heart and the eye to look on their lively 
 and sparlvling Avaters as they flow, 
 
 " Making sweet music with the enamelled stones." 
 
 And then the fresh air of the moor, which renders 
 the very step light as we inhale it, and the clear 
 blue skies, and the varying and changing clouds, 
 
 very fine breed the late Mr. Bray had on the moor, is worth noticinj^ 
 here. It is also mentioned by Mr. Burt in Carrine^ton's Poem. The 
 late Caj)t. Cotgrave, who was engaged in some duty at the French 
 prison, had seen a pony he wished to detach from the herd at Bair- 
 down. In the endeavour to effect his object, tlie animal was driven oa 
 some blocks of granite by the side of a tor. A horseman instantly 
 rode up in order to catch it, when, to the astunisliment of all who 
 witnessed the feat from below, the pony fairly and completely leapt 
 over horse and rider, and escaped with a fleetness that set at defiance 
 all further pursuit. 
 
 * Early lambs are never reared on Dartmoor, on account of the cold- 
 ness of the air. Those that come late, however, are considered to do 
 well there. These are called cuckoo lambs, as being contemporary with 
 the appearance of that bird.
 
 66 INSECT WORLD. [lET. 
 
 now white, now roseate, or opening and closing 
 before tlie view, are all objects of the highest 
 enjoyment. And the insect world, that starts at 
 once, as it were, into its ephemeral being, — a world 
 of which none in Nature presents a greater variety, 
 — all useful, all governed by a beautiful economy in 
 their order and their kind, — can never be seen 
 with indifference by those who have once given 
 such subjects even but a slight attention. We are 
 pleased to see around us, reviving into life, even our 
 most familiar acquaintance, the common hovise-fl}' ; 
 and the very insects that love rivers and haunt 
 pools add some degree of animation to the hour. 
 No place will afford a more interesting field for the 
 entomologist than the hills and vales of Dartmoor. 
 There, too, Ave meet in spring, upon a sunny day, 
 the pale yellow butterfly, usually the tenant of the 
 garden and the floAver-bed ; and it is often seen, 
 like infancy by the side of age, sporting on the 
 front of some old grey rock, or settling on the Avild 
 thyme, — or on the golden fiu-zc, — as its Avings \abrate 
 Avith a quickness that Avill sometimes dazzle the 
 sight. 
 
 And hoAv beautiful is " the song of earliest birds," 
 the thrush that never tires, or the lark that smgs first 
 and soars highest, like youth A\'ho thinks the Avorld is 
 a region of pleasure to be compassed on the Aving of 
 hope. Dartmoor is rich in birds, and those often of 
 an uncommon kind*. The pretty little Avheatear, or 
 English ortolan, builds its nest amongst the old 
 rocks, Avliose colour it so resembles in the black and 
 grey of its Avings, that you sometimes do not observe 
 
 * Dr. Moore, of Plj'inouth, has lately published a catalogue of all 
 the birds that frequent the different parts of the count}' of Devon.
 
 IV.] BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. 6T 
 
 it perched upon the clefts till you hear its small cry. 
 There too has been seen the goshawk, so rare in 
 Devon ; and the Idte, that is now seldom found in 
 its peaceful and inhabited valleys, still prowls, like a 
 bandit, about the moor, as if he came to make his 
 prey with impunity amidst its vmfrequented A\dlds. 
 And the honey-buzzard, rare as it is in this county, 
 has there, nevertheless, been marked chasing the 
 dragon-fl}^ as that beautiful insect endeavoured to 
 evade its enemy, and woidd 
 
 " Dart like a fairy javelin by." 
 
 And the ring-ouzel finds its dwelling in the hollows 
 and cavities of the rocks, and the poor little 
 reed-WTen makes them her home ; and robin, that 
 favourite of old and young, there need fear no pilfer- 
 ing youngster — since so much is this pretty bird the 
 familiar friend of children in oiu* neighbourhood, 
 that the boys will pelt any one of their companions 
 who may steal but an egg from "' poor Cock Robin's " 
 nest. The snow-buzzard and the stormy petrel are 
 sometimes found on these liills ; and even the bit- 
 tern will make her cry amidst its desolation. But 
 these are bu'ds of a melancholy season ; since the 
 first we know, by its name, comes in the dreary time, 
 and the petrel, suffering from the storm that gives 
 her a claim upon our commiseration, has been driven 
 to land, and found dead upon the moor. 
 
 But in a spring or a summer morning no birds 
 are seen but those which give delight. They are 
 not vain monitors ; for all their occupations are 
 divided between rejoicing and industry. They sing 
 in the gladness and thankfulness of their existence, 
 or they labour to find food and shelter for their
 
 68 REFLECTIONS. [lET. IV. 
 
 young'. To them nothing is indifTerent Avithin the 
 range of their capacity. The straw or the fallen 
 leaf, — the tuft of wool that hangs on the briar as it 
 was torn from the sheep, — a very hair is treasured 
 and placed to the account of what is useful in the 
 internal structure exhibited by the little architect in 
 its nest. 
 
 To Avatch the economy of birds, — to mark the 
 enjoyment of the animal world, — to view with an 
 eye of interest and contemplation the fields with 
 " verdure clad," and every opening blossom burst- 
 ing into beauty and to life, are enjoyments that 
 instruct and delight youth, middle and old age. 
 They supply vis with a source of innocent employ- 
 ment, to which none need be dead but those who 
 wilfully become so by keeping their eyes closed 
 before that book of Nature which is everywhere 
 spread around, that we should read in it those 
 characters of an Almighty hand that lead the mind 
 to wonder at and adore his goodness, and the 
 heart to acknowledge and to feel his power, as a 
 Father, who in his " wisdom has created " and pre- 
 serves them all. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir ; 
 And believe me. 
 
 With grateful esteem. 
 Ever most truly yours, 
 A. E. Bray.
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Bair-down supposed to have been the Hill of Bards — 
 Inscriptions on the Rocks: how cut — House on the Eminence — 
 Beautiful Ravine : Bridge of a lofty single arch over the River 
 Cowsick — Trees planted in the ravine by the late Mr. Bray — 
 Remarks on the ttymology of Bair-down — and Wistman's Wood 
 — Observations on the English Distich — Merlin's Cave in the 
 Rocks — Wand or rod — Rural Inscriptions on the Granite. 
 
 I'icarage, Tavistock, March 2, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Haying given you, in my former letters, 
 a general account of Dartmoor, I shall now proceed 
 to a more particvilar description of its localities, and 
 in doing so I shall principally avail myself of the 
 journals of my husband, written at different in- 
 tervals so far back as the year 1802 down to the 
 present period. I purpose beginning with Bair- 
 down : first, because it was enclosed by the late 
 worthy and respected Mr. Bray, who there built a 
 house, and was fond of retiring to it during the 
 summer and autumn ; and secondly, because, as vou 
 Avill presently find, my husband considers Bair-down 
 to have been the hill of bards. In addition to m}-^ 
 former allusions on this subject, I may here state, 
 that should it be thought he is incorrect in his view 
 of the original claims of the hill to a bardic cha- 
 racter, he has now at least fully established them.
 
 70 BAIR-DOWK. [let. 
 
 by the inscriptions on the granite with which he has 
 partly covered several of those enormous masses 
 that arise, vdih so much magnificence, in the midst 
 of the river Cowsick, that flows at the foot of the 
 eminence on which the house was built by his father. 
 
 Some of these inscriptions are noAV so moss-grown, 
 so hidden Avith lichen, or so worn with the weather 
 and the winter torrents, that a stranger, unless he 
 examined the rocks at a particular hour of the day 
 when the sun is favourable, would not be very hkely 
 to discover them. Others, though composed by him 
 for the same purpose, were never inscribed, on 
 account of the time and labour it required to cut 
 them in the granite. The mode he adopted with 
 those which have been done Avas as follows : he used 
 to paint the inscriptions himself, in large characters, 
 upon the rocks, and then employ a labourer vnth 
 what is here called a pick (pick- axe) to work them 
 out. Some of these inscriptions were in triads, and 
 eno-raved on the rocks in the bardic character of the 
 sprig alphabet, as it is given by the Rev. Edward 
 Davies in his ' Celtic Remains.' 
 
 As a further motive to the task, he Avished to 
 indulge his fancy by peopling, as it were, a wilder- 
 ness, with his favourite authors to enhven its 
 solitude: and when I shall presently tell you the 
 number of poems he Avrote at that early period of 
 his life (which, a few only being ever printed, 
 still remain in manuscript) as he delighted to 
 cultivate the poetical A-isions of a youthful fancy 
 on the moor, yoii Avill not wonder that he should 
 have attempted, with somewhat the same senti- 
 ments as those so beautifully described by Shak-
 
 v.] HOUSE ON BAIR-DOWN. 71 
 
 speare, to give a tongue to the very rocks, so that 
 there might be found, even in the midst of a desert, 
 
 '' books in the running brooks. 
 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 
 
 The eminence of Bair-down, on which stands the 
 cottage erected by his late father, is situated about 
 eight miles from TaAistock, near the Moreton road. 
 It is extensive, and to one approacliing it from this 
 quarter is seen suiTounded on the north and east 
 by lofty tors. In the latter direction it declines 
 gently but deeply, where flows the Dart ; whilst the 
 descent is more sudden at the south, and on enter- 
 ing the grounds from the turnpike road, presents 
 itself, most unexpectcdh', as a ra^*ine, its sides 
 picturesquely clothed A^dth wood, through which, 
 amid innumerable rocks, rushes the foaming Cow- 
 sick. As you continue to advance, the path winds 
 by the side of this ra-vdne, wliich gradually opens and 
 presents a scene of the most peculiar and romantic 
 kind, — a scene so beautiful that, though I have often 
 viewed it, it always affords me that dehght which is 
 generally supposed to be the result of novel im- 
 pressions. The Cowsick rushes down this ravine, 
 over the noblest masses of granite, broken into a 
 thousand fantastic forms, and scattered in every 
 direction. A picturesque bridge of a single, lofty 
 arch, crosses the river at that spot where the fall is 
 most striking and precipitous : after heavy rains, it 
 there presents a combination of waterfalls that are 
 of the greatest beauty. In the midst of the stream, 
 at some short distance from the bridge, the river 
 branches off in two rocky channels, as it is there 
 internqited by a Httle island, on which stands a thick 
 grove of trees. On either side the banks of tliis
 
 72 ETYMOLOGY OF BAIR-DOWN. [lET. 
 
 steep ravine are seen a number of trees of various 
 kinds, all in the most flourishing state, on account of 
 their being so sheltered from the bleak winds of the 
 moor. 
 
 Such is Bair-down. All the trees were planted 
 by my husband's father, who built the house and 
 the bridge, and who raised the loose stone walls as 
 enclosures for cattle for many miles in extent ; and, 
 in short, who literally expended a fortune on the 
 improvements and enclosures on this estate. In 
 the barn behind the cottage, for two years, divine 
 service was performed every Simday, by one of the 
 Prince of Wales's chaplains, by a dispensation from 
 the Bishop of Exeter. This estate is now let by 
 Mr. Bray to a respectable farmer, named Hannaford 
 (of whom you vvill hear more in these letters) for a 
 very trifling rent. I now take my leave of you ; for 
 all that here follows is from the pen of my husband. 
 The only share I have in it, is that of transcribing 
 it, verbatim, from his old journals. Adieu, there- 
 fore, till we meet again. 
 
 REMARKS ON THE ETYMOLOGY OF BAIR DOWN. 
 RURAL INSCRIPTIONS, &c. 
 
 By Edward A. Bkay, 1802. 
 
 The most obvious idea as to the origin of this name 
 is, that it either has a reference to Bear, the sub- 
 stantive, or Bare, the adjective. But thougli a 
 vague rumour, which can hardly be styled tradition, 
 states that it was so called because it was the spot 
 where the last bear was destroyed on the moor ; I 
 should rather think that some recent poetical spirit 
 has thus given, " to an airy nothing, a local habi-
 
 v.] wistman's wood. 73 
 
 tation and a name." And the second supposition 
 can hardly be supported, when we come to consider 
 that this part of the moor, so far from being hare, 
 or void of vegetation, is perhaps nearly the best land 
 in the whole of this extensive desert. Rejecting, 
 therefore, those ideas as equally unfounded, we must 
 derive our information from other sources ; and for- 
 tunately these soiu'ces are immediately at hand. 
 On the opposite side of the river Dart, which bounds 
 my father's property, stands Wistman's wood — the 
 only remaining vestige of the ancient forest. Wist 
 is the preterit and participle of IVis, from pirra^j 
 Saxon, wissen, German, to know; and is not at 
 present altogether obsolete, as it is still used in 
 scripture in this sense. From the same etymon 
 comes also wise : "sapient ; judging rightl}— having 
 much knowledge' — (Johnsons Diet.) Thus Wiss- 
 man's or Wistman's Wood signifies Silva Sapien- 
 tiiim*, the wood of wisemen. The Druids and Bards 
 were unquestionably the philosophers or wisemen 
 of the Britons. We may naturally conjecture, there- 
 fore, that this Avas their principal or their last place 
 of assembly ; and the many stone circles on Bair- 
 down immediately opposite the wood confirm the 
 opinion. I am not ignorant that Wistman's Wood 
 is sometimes called also TVelchmans Wood : the one 
 name may easily be the corruption of the other ; but 
 if not, and they are distinct appellations, the con- 
 clusion will be pretty much the same. 
 
 * See Stuart's ' View of Society,' p. 337, to prove that the Wites 
 were the same as Sapientes; and LL. Anglo-Saxon ap Wilkins there 
 referred to. See also a curious supplication del County de Devon- 
 shire to Edward III. Coke's 4. Institute, p. 232. Barons and Autres 
 Sages, &c. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 WISEMEN. [let. 
 
 When llic ancient inhabitants of this country were 
 subjiig-ated b}' the Romans, some retired into Wales, 
 and others into CornwalL Cornwall was considered 
 as part of Wales, and, from its form, was called 
 Cornn Walhse, the horn of Wales. Indeed it is 
 frequently styled West Wales by the British -vNTiters. 
 (See 'Rees's Cyclop.') The inhabitants, therefore, 
 of Cornwall, as well as Wales, might be called 
 Welch. And in this supposition I am confirmed by 
 Borlase, who states that the Saxons " imposed the 
 name of JVeales on the Britons, driven by them Avest 
 of the rivers Severn and Dee, calling their country, 
 in the Latin tongue, Wallia." It is not improbable 
 that, in the centre of Dartmoor, a colony might 
 still be permitted to exist, either from their in- 
 significance or their insulated situation ; and that 
 this colony might be called by the other inhabitants 
 Welchmen, from their resemblance to the inhabit- 
 ants of Cornwall and Wales. 
 
 No colony can be supposed to have existed among 
 the ancient Britons without haAdng their Druids 
 or Wisemen, who, indeed, had the Avhole of the 
 spiritual, and the greater part of the temporal, 
 power in their hands. Bair-down, then, from its 
 commanding situation, and its gently-ascending 
 acclivities, on which were spread their sacred circles, 
 must, without doubt, have been frequently resorted 
 to by them. 
 
 Dun, now altered to down, signifies a hill. We 
 may natvu'ally imagine, therefore, that it was ori- 
 ginally called Baird, or Bard-dun, Bardorum-mons, 
 the hill of bards. And the etymology of the word 
 bard will confirm this opinion: it is derived by 
 changing u into h, which is by no means uncommon.
 
 v.] ETYMOLOGY OF BAIR-DOWN. 75 
 
 particularly as the German iv is pronounced like our 
 r, from waird, whence comes the modern English 
 word. This, like the Greek ettos-, signified not only 
 \"erbum, a word, but carmen, a song. The bards 
 then were so called from being singers, or persons 
 who celebrated in songs the achievements of warriors 
 and great men. What, therefore, was originally pro- 
 nounced Baird-down may easily be supposed, for the 
 sake of euphony, to be reduced to Bair-down. 
 
 P.S. On further inquiry I find that some derive 
 bard from bar, a fury. The analogy between this 
 and the furor pocticus of the Romans must strike 
 every one. The plural in Welch is bchdd. Taiiesin 
 is called Pen Beirdd, i.e. the Prince of the Bards. 
 Thus Bcirdd-dvm is literally the hill of the Bards. 
 
 The Druids were divided into Vacerri, Beirdd, 
 and Eubages. The second order, or Bards, sub- 
 sisted for ages after the destruction of the others, 
 and, indeed, were not totally extirpated by the 
 bloody proscription of Edward. 
 
 Rural Inscriptions on the Rocks of Bair-down. 
 
 A gentleman, for whose taste and learning I 
 entertain the highest respect, on my submitting " the 
 Inscriptions " to his criticism, commvmicatecl to me, 
 in conversation, the following remarks. Not feeling 
 myself suflTiciently confident personally to discuss the 
 subject, and convinced that his opinions arc entitled 
 to the most mature and serious refliection, I propose 
 at present to state my reasons why I cannot implicitly 
 submit to them. He objected to their being (a§ 
 
 E 2
 
 76 THE ENGLISH DISTICH. [lET. 
 
 most of them are) in the form of disiichs, from an 
 idea that it was impossible to condense any really 
 characteristic or poetical thought into two lines in 
 the EncjUsh language. This, he said, might possibly 
 be accomplished in Latin; but extracts and selec- 
 tions from the best authors of different ages and 
 countries Avould, he thought, be still better. 
 
 Now^ in stating the reasons by which I was ac- 
 tuated in the composition of these inscriptions, and 
 in confining myself to their present form, it will be 
 necessary to mention the ideas that suggested them- 
 selves to me upon the subject. At first the idea 
 occurred to me, as well as to my fi-iend, that nothing 
 more would be required than to select passages from 
 my favourite authors, and I actually laid some Latin 
 and Itahan poets under contribution for that very 
 purpose ; but I found that the long hexameter lines 
 of Virofil could not easilv be brought within the 
 compass of a rude granite stone, where capitals only 
 could be used, and those too of no small dimensions; 
 that many of the most appropriate passages were of 
 some length ; and that, were 1 to have followed the 
 example of Procrustes, however they might still be 
 discovered to be disjecti membra poetce, the sight 
 would have given more disgust than satisfaction to 
 the eye of the spectator. A consideration of no 
 small importance likewise occurred; namely, that 
 though I traced them myself beforehand upon the 
 surface, it was not probable that the person I em- 
 ployed to cut them into the solid granite would be 
 so attentive as not to commit blunders, especially as 
 his labours were only proceeded in daring my ab- 
 sence. It was obvious that fewer mistakes would 
 probably occur in English, of which, at any rate, he
 
 v.] INSCRIPTIOS ON THE ROCK. 77 
 
 may he presumed not to be so entirely ignorant as 
 he certainly is of the former, being only a common 
 mason. In addition to which, inscriptions of this 
 kind have been so frequently repeated that I could 
 not hope to attract attention by any novelty of 
 application. On further reflection, however, I made 
 a great alteration in my original design, and, con- 
 sidering poetical inscriptions as of subordinate con- 
 sequence, resolved to consecrate particular rocks to 
 particular persons. As the name alone of Theocritus 
 or of Virgil could not fail to communicate to a 
 poetical mind a train of pleasing associations, I did 
 nothing more, at first, than inscribe upon a few 
 rocks " To Theocritus," " To Virgil," &c. This of 
 itself, in so wild and sohtar}" a scene as Dartmoor, 
 was not without its effect : it seemed to people the 
 desert ; at any rate one miglit exclaim, '• The hand 
 of man has been here !" I then conceived that it 
 would give more animation to the scene by adding 
 something either addressed to, or supposed to be 
 uttered by, these fancied genii or diA-inities of the 
 rock; and accordinglv, for the sake of conciseness as 
 well as a trial of skill, composed them in couplets. 
 I certainly should have found it much easier to have 
 expanded them into quatrains, or any indefinite 
 number of lines ; but I chose to impose this task 
 \qDon myself for other reasons as well as those above 
 stated, which, however, I cannot help thinking are 
 sufficient. 
 
 I entertain a higher opinion of the English lan- 
 guage than to think it so deficient in conciseness 
 as to be unable to adapt itself to the form of a dis- 
 tich. I am rather inclined to think that the moral 
 distichs of Cato might be very adequately translated
 
 78 merlin's cave. [let. 
 
 in the same form. D'Avanzati's translation of Taci ■ 
 tus has acquh-ed great reputation for its conciseness ; 
 but, for the sake of curiosity, I have proved that it 
 may be more concisely translated into English than 
 Italian. I may possibly have failed, however, in 
 showng its superior excellence in this particular by 
 my inscriptions, but these I have not the vanity to 
 unagine as just criteria of its powers. 
 
 In the island, to which I would appropriate the 
 name of the Isle of Mona, I propose to put none but 
 Druidical inscriptions, principally in the form of 
 triads. These shall be in bardic characters, as they 
 are represented in DaA-iess ' Celtic Researches.' 
 By way of amusement to those who may vnsh to 
 decipher them, I shall mark this simple alphabet on 
 a white rod, and call it the virgula divinaforia, or the 
 diviner's wand, which is still so celebrated among 
 the miners, so that literally few, if an}', wdll be 
 able to understand it without the assistance of this 
 magic rod. It wU add to the effect to call a recess, 
 or kind of grotto, that is contiguous to this island, 
 Merlin's Cave, and on a rock, wliich may be con- 
 sidered as his tomb, to inscribe — 
 
 These mystic letters would you know, 
 Take Merlin's wand that lies below. 
 
 It will be right, perhaps, to have two wands, of equal 
 length ; one to be a kind of key to the other ; one to 
 be marked with the Bardic letters, and the other at 
 corresponding distances \rith. the Enghsh alphabet, 
 thus — 
 
 ABC DEFGHIKLMNO?ESTUVWY
 
 v.] INSCRIPTIONS. 79 
 
 Inscription the First. — To my Father. 
 Still lived the Druids, who the oak revered, 
 (For many an oak thy peaceful hands have rear'd,) 
 The hill of Bards had echoed with thy name, 
 Than warrior deeds more worthy songs of fame. 
 
 No. II. 
 To the Same. 
 Who gilds the earth with grain can bolder claim 
 The highest guerdon from the hands of Fame, 
 Than he who stains the martial field with blood, 
 And calls from widow 'd eyes the bitter flood. 
 
 No. III. 
 To the Same. 
 This tender sapling, planted now by thee, 
 Oh ! may it spread a fair umbrageous tree ; 
 "Whilst seated at thy side I tune my lays, 
 And sing beneath its shade a father's praise. 
 
 Drvidic,\i, and other Inscriptions. 
 No. I. 
 Ye Druid train, these sacred rocks revere, 
 These sacred rocks to minstrel spirits dear ! • 
 If pure your lips, if void your breast of sin, 
 They'll hear your prayers, and answer from within. 
 
 No. II. 
 Read only thou these artless rhymes 
 Whom Fancy leads to other times ; 
 Nor think an hour mispf nt to trace 
 The customs of a former race : 
 For know, iu ever}' age, that man 
 Fulfils great Nature's general j)lan. 
 
 No. III. 
 Oh ! thou imbued with Celtic lore, 
 Send back thy soul to days of yore, 
 When kings descended from their thrones 
 To bow before the sacred stones. 
 And Druids from the aged oak 
 The will of Heaven prophetic spoke.
 
 80 INSCRIPTIONS. [let. 
 
 Insckiptions on the Rocks of Bair-down, in the river 
 CowsicK, &c. 
 
 To Merlin. 
 Born of no earthly sire, thy magic wand 
 
 Brought Sarum's hanging stones from Erin's land: 
 To me, weak mortal ! no such power is known, 
 And yet to speak I teach the sacred iitone*. 
 
 Inscriptions in Triads, &c. 
 No. I. 
 Though worshipp'd oft by many a different name, 
 God is but one, and ever is the same, 
 To him at last we go, from whom at first we came. 
 
 No. II. 
 
 Know, though the body moulder in the tomb, 
 
 That body shall the living soul resume, 
 
 And share of bliss or woe the just eternal doom. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 Proud man I consider thou art nought but dust ; 
 
 To Heaven resign thy will, be good, be just. 
 
 And for thy due reward to Heaven with patience trust. 
 
 No. IV. 
 Their earthly baseness to remove, 
 Souls must repeated changes prove. 
 Prepared for endless bliss above. 
 
 * It is pretended that Merlin was the son of an Incubus and a 
 vestal. He is said, by the power of magic, to have brought from 
 Ireland those immense masses of granite that form Stonehenge, which 
 means, according to some antiquaries, hanging-stones ; or stones hanged, 
 hung, or connected together ; or as the poet says, " poised by magic." 
 The hinge of a door may probably be referred to the same origin. 
 Mt-rlin's original name was Anibrosius. It is thought that Amesburj', 
 or Ambresbury, near Stonehenge, took its name from Ambrosius 
 Aurelius, a British Prince. May not the credulous vulgar have 
 confounded him with Merlinus Ambrosius, and thus ascribed this pro- 
 bably Druidical monument to the supernatural powers of this celebrated 
 enchanter ?
 
 V-] INSCRIPTIONS. 81 
 
 No.V. 
 Adore great Hu*, the god of peace; 
 Bid war and all its woes to cease ; 
 So may our flocks and fruits increase. 
 
 No. VI. 
 
 To Odiuf bow with trembling fear, 
 The terrible, the God severe : 
 Whose bolt, of desolating fire, 
 Warns not, but wreaks his vengeful ire ; 
 Who roars amid the bloody fight ; 
 Recalls the foot that turns for flight; 
 Who bids the victor's banners fly; 
 And names the name of those to die. 
 
 Inscriptions to the Bakds alluded to bv Guey. 
 
 Tu Cadwallo. 
 Mute is thy magic strain, 
 •' That hush'd the stormy main." 
 
 To Hoel. 
 Thy harp in strains sublime express'd 
 The dictates of thy " high-born " breast. 
 
 To Urien. 
 
 No more, awaken'd from thy " craggy bed," 
 Thy rage-inspiring songs the foe shall dread. 
 
 To Llewel/yn. 
 Mid war's sad frowns were smiles oft wont to play 
 Whilst pour'd thy harp the " soft," euamour'd " lay. 
 
 To Modred. 
 Thy " magic song," thine incantations dread, 
 " ilade huge Piiulimmon bow his cloud-topt head." 
 
 * Hu Gadran, the peaceful ploughman. One of the names of the 
 deify among the Celta;. 
 t Odin, the Deity of the Goths and other Northern nations. 
 
 E 3
 
 82 INSCRIPTIONS. [let. 
 
 Additional. Tkiads. 
 No. I. 
 From Mela. 
 Ut forent ad bella meliores ; 
 y^ternas esse animas, 
 Vitamque alteram ad manes. 
 
 The soul 's immortal — then be brave, 
 Nor seek thy coward life to save ; 
 But hail the life beyond the grave. 
 
 Another from Diogenes Laeutius, 
 
 -sSs/v Qiou;, 
 
 aa.) avo^iiav atrxtiv. 
 
 Adore the Gods with daily prayer, 
 Each deed of evil shun with care, 
 And learn with fortitude to bear. 
 
 Alluding to the Duuids' belief in the Metempsychosis*. 
 
 Here all things change to all — what dies, 
 
 Again with varied life shall rise : 
 
 He sole unchanged who rules the skies. 
 
 Alluding to the Dkuidical Sprig Alphabet. 
 
 Hast thou the knowledge of the trees .'' 
 Press then this spot with votive knees, 
 And join the sacred mysteries. 
 
 A Triad, founded on the Maxims of the Druids in Rapin's 
 History of England, vol. i. p. 6, Introduction. 
 
 None must be taught but in the sacred grove : 
 
 All things originate from Heaven above ; 
 
 And man's immortal soul a future state shall prove. 
 
 * Cajsar speaking of the Druids (Lib. 0, Sec. 13) says, — In primis 
 hoc volunt peisuadere, non iuterire animas, sed ab alias post mortem 
 transire ad alias : atque hoc maxime ad virtutem excitari putant, metu 
 mortis lu'g'ecto.
 
 y.] INSCRIPTIONS. 83 
 
 To MY Father. Inscuibed on a rock in the kiver Cowsick, 
 
 THE BANKS OF WHICH HE HAD PLANTED. 
 
 Ye Naiads ! venerate the swain 
 Who joiii'd the Dryads to j'oxir train. 
 
 Inscription for an Island in the river Cowsick, to which I 
 
 HAVE given the NAME OF MoNA. 
 
 Ye tuneful birds ! ye Druids of the grove ! 
 Who sing not strains of blood, but lays of love. 
 To whom this Isle, a little Mona 's given — 
 Ne'er from the sacred spot shall ye be driven. 
 
 Inscription for a rock on the lower Island. 
 Who love, though e'en through desert wilds they stray. 
 Find in their hearts companions of the way. 
 
 For the same Island. 
 To thee, O Solitude ! we owe 
 Man's greatest bliss — ourselves to know. 
 
 Inscription on a rock in the woods near the Cowsick. 
 The wretch, to heal his wounded mind, 
 A friend in solitude will find ; 
 And when the Blest her influence tries, 
 He'll learn his blessings more to prize. 
 
 For a rock on Bair-dovvn. 
 
 Sweet Poesy ! fair Fancy's child ! 
 Thy smiles imparadise the wild. 
 
 Inscription for an Island in the Cowsick, xo which I have 
 
 GIVEN THE name OF VeCTIS. 
 
 When erst Phoenicians cross'd the trackless main 
 For Britain's secret shore, in quest of gain, 
 This desert wild supplied the valued ore. 
 And Vectis' isle received the treasured store. 
 
 For a rock in Wistman's Wood. 
 The wreck of ages, thise rude oaks revere ; 
 The Druid, Wii^dom, sought a refuge here, 
 When Rome's fell eagles dreuch'd with blood the ground 
 And taught her sons her mystic rites profound.
 
 84 INSCRIPTIONS. [let. 
 
 For the Same. 
 These rugged rocks, last barrier to the skies, 
 Smoked with the Druids' secret sacrifice ; 
 Alas : blind man, to hope with human blood 
 To please a God, all merciful, all good. 
 
 Inscription for a Rock on Bair-down. 
 Mute is the hill of Bards, where erst the choir, 
 In solemn cadence, struck the sacred wire : 
 Yet oft, methinks, in spells of fancy bound. 
 As swells the breeze, I hear their harps resound. 
 
 Inscription near the Islanu. 
 Learning's proud sons ! think not the Celtic race, 
 Once deem'd so rude, j'our origin disgrace : 
 Know that to them, who counted ages o'er, 
 The Greeks and Romans owe their learned lore. 
 
 (Celtic Res : passim.) 
 
 Inscription for a Rock near the Cowsick, 
 Here, though now reft of trees, from many an oak 
 To Druid ears prophetic spirits spoke ; 
 And, may I trust the muse's sacred strain. 
 Reviving groves shall speak of fate again. 
 
 Near the Same. 
 Ye minstrel spirits! when I strike the lyre. 
 Oh ! hover round, and fill me with your fire! 
 
 To Boadicca, 
 Roused by the Druid's songs, mid fields of blood, 
 Thine arm the conquerors of the world withstood. 
 
 To Caractacits, 
 Imperial Rome, that ruled from pole fo pole. 
 Could never tame, proud chief! thy mighty soul. 
 
 To Ta/iesin. 
 How boil'd his blood ! how thrill'd the warrior's veins ! 
 "When roused to vengeance by thy patiiot strains.
 
 v.] INSCRIPTIONS. 85 
 
 To Fingal and his Bards. See Ossian, passim. 
 Spirit of Loda* ! round their shadowy king, 
 Here may the ghosts of song his deeds of glory sing. 
 
 To Carrilf. 
 Mid flowing shells, thy harp of sprightly sound 
 Awoke to mirth the festive warriors round. 
 
 To Ossian. 
 When sings the blast around this mossy stone, 
 I see thy passing ghost, I hear thy harp's wild tone. 
 
 Tu Cronnan J. 
 Oft to the warrior's ghost, of mournful tone, 
 Thy harp resounded near his mossy stone. 
 
 To Ryiio §• 
 First of his sons of song, thy war-taught string 
 Defiance spoke from woody Morven's king. 
 
 To Ullin. 
 Son of the harp of Fame ! thy fateful power 
 Could fill with joy the warrior's dying hour. 
 
 To Malvina. 
 Oft thy white hand the harp of Ossian strung, 
 When, hapless sire ! thine Oscar's fate he sung | 
 
 To Minona ^. 
 Thy harp's soft sound, thou fair-hair'd maid, was dear, 
 More dear thy voice to Selma's royal ear. 
 
 * The same as Odin. 
 
 f This name imports sprightly and hannonious sound. 
 
 \ This name signifies mournful sound. 
 
 ^ One of Fingal's principal Bards. 
 
 II Oscar, the son of Ossian, and lover of Malvina, was slain in 
 battle. 
 
 ^f This name signifies soft air. Fingal is styled King of Selma as 
 well as of Morven.
 
 86 INSCRIPTIONS. [let. 
 
 To the Cowsick- 
 To thee, fair Naiad of the crystal flood, 
 I offer not the costly victim's blood ; 
 But as I quaff thy tide at sultry noon, 
 I bless thee for the cool, reviving boon. 
 
 To jEsop. 
 E'en solitude has social charms for thee, 
 Who talk'st with beast, or fish, or bird, or tree. 
 
 To Thomson. 
 To Nature's votaries shall thy name be dear, 
 Long as the Seasons lead the changeful year. 
 
 To Shakspeare. 
 To thee, blest Bard ! man's veriest heart was known, 
 Whate'er his lot — a cottage or a throne. 
 
 To Southey,for a rock in fVislman's J-Vood. 
 Free as thy Madoc mid the western waves, 
 Here refuged Britons swore they'd ne'er be slaves. 
 
 To Savage. 
 What ! though thy mother could her son disown, 
 The pitying Muses nursed thee as their own*. 
 
 To Spenser. 
 The shepherd, taught by thine instructive rhyme, 
 Learns from thy calendar to husband time. 
 
 To Shenstone. 
 Nurtured by taste, thy lyre by Nature strung, 
 Thy hands created what thy fancy sung. 
 
 To Browne. 
 I bless thee that our native Tavy's praise 
 Thou'st woven mid Britannia's pastoral lays. 
 
 See Johnson's ' Life of Savage,' and his poem of the ' Bastard,
 
 T.] INSCRIPTIONS. 87 
 
 To Burns, 
 Long as the moon shall shed her sacred light, 
 Thy strains, sweet Bard ! shall cheer the Cotter's night 
 
 To Col/ins, 
 In orient climes let lawless passions rove. 
 Blest be these plains with friendship and with love. 
 
 To Bacon. 
 
 Thy prayers induced Philosophy on earth 
 To call the sciences and arts to birth. 
 
 To Walton. 
 The angler's art who from thy converse learns. 
 Happier and better to his home returns. 
 
 To Falconer. 
 Oft shall the rustic shed a feeling tear, 
 The shipwreck'd sailor's piteous tale to hear. 
 
 To Dante. 
 To Faith, not Purgatory, know, 'tis given, 
 To shut the gates of hell, and ope the gates of Heaven. 
 
 To Rowe, 
 Oh turn, ye fair, from flattery's voice your ear, 
 Nor live to shed the penitential tear. 
 
 To Mathias. 
 On Thames' loved banks thou strik'st th' Ausonian lyre. 
 And call'st from Arno's waves the minstrel choir. 
 
 To Watts. 
 
 The pious rustic from thy sacred lays 
 
 May learn to sing the heavenly shepherd's praise.
 
 88 INSCRIPTIONS. [LEr. 
 
 To Rochester. 
 Dearer than self was nothing to thy breast — 
 NoW; since thou'rt nothing, sure thou'rt doubly blest *. 
 
 To Aikin. 
 Nature's free gifts thou taught' st th' admiring swains f, 
 To calendar, and praise with grateful strains. 
 
 To Scott. 
 Cease not thy strains ; from dawn till close of day, 
 I'd list, sweet minstrel ! to thy latest lay. 
 
 To Witland. 
 Thy magic wand, by Oberon's fairy power 
 Mid barren wilds can weave love's roseate bower. 
 
 To P'arro. 
 Thy patriot virtue taught the happier son 
 To turn the soil his father's falchion won J. 
 
 To Chaucer. 
 Rude though thy verse, discordant though thy 13're, 
 Each British minstrel owns thee for his sire. 
 
 To La Fontaine. 
 He taught the beasts that roam the plains 
 To speak a moral to the swains. 
 
 To Coiiley. 
 Oft mid such scenes the livelong day 
 ** The melancholy Cowley " lay. 
 
 To Young. 
 Oh I lead my thoughts to Him, the source of light, 
 Kre sleep enchains them in the cave of night. 
 
 * ])r. Johnson considers Rochester's poem on Nothing his best 
 composition. 
 
 f See Dr. Aikin's ' Calendar of Nature.' 
 X Varro wrote on Husbandry.
 
 INSCRIPTIONS. 89 
 
 To Parnell. 
 Oh ! be it mine with men to dwell, 
 But oft to seek the hermit's cell. 
 
 To Gray. 
 The youthful swain, where his " forefathers sleep," 
 Shall sing thine elegy, sweet Bard ! and weep. 
 
 To Rogers, 
 To every swain grown grey with years 
 Memory his native vale endears. 
 
 To Akeiiside*. 
 
 Imagination's airy dream 
 
 Finds Aaiads in each purling stream. 
 
 To Anne Radciiffe. 
 Nature, enthusiast nymph ! a child 
 Found thee, and nursed thee in the wild. 
 
 I have now, my dear Sir, given you a very nu- 
 merous collection of Mr. Bray's inscriptions for the 
 rocks of B air-down and the river Cowsick; yet, 
 numerous as they are, there remain not less than 
 115 in distichs, which I have not sent, because they 
 would have been too many for insertion in these 
 letters. In the next, I purpose taking you to 
 Wistman's Wood, where I trust you will find some 
 objects worthy your attention ; till then. 
 
 Allow me the honour to remain, &c. 
 
 A. E. B. 
 
 * Alluding to his ' Pleasures of Imagination,' and his 'Hymn to 
 the Naiads.'
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Wistman's Wood — Considered as the posterity of a 
 Druid grove — The antiquity of such groves, as places of resort of 
 Eastern idolaters — Examples found in the Bible quoted — Customs 
 of the ancient idolaters — Horses devoted by them to the Sun — 
 Customs of the ancient Germans and Gauls in their Superstitions 
 — Celtic priesthood — Record preserved in the Office of the Duchy 
 of Cornwall respecting Wistman's Wood — The subject of its high 
 antiquity further considered — Hill of Bards, and Wood of the 
 Wisemen contiguous — Account of the Wood, and its localities in 
 their present state — Progress towards it — Adders plentiful on the 
 Moor — Superstition respecting them— How to charm them — Ashen 
 wand — Serpent's egg — Diviner's rod — Pliny's notice of the magic 
 of Britain — Taliesin's account of the wand — The Caduceus, its 
 oriijin — Toland's account of ancient amulets — Custom of charm- 
 ing adders : a vestige of British superstition — Spring of water — 
 Lucan's notice of Caesar on entering a Druid grove — Lines on 
 Wistman's Wood — The Farmer's legend about the old grove — ^The 
 ascent to it — Masses of granite — The extraordinary oaks of Wist- 
 man's Wood described — Isabella deFortibus by some said to have 
 planted the Wood — Ages of trees. &c. — Silver coins found; and 
 human hair in a kairn on the Moor — British monuments destro3'ed 
 — Crockernton — Circles of stone numerous — Wistman's Wood pro- 
 bably the last retreat of the Druids and Bards of Damnonia. 
 
 yicarage, Tavistock, March 6, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I NOW take up my pen to give you some 
 account of Wistman's Wood, which, if you ^vill allow 
 the expression, we have always considered as the 
 posterity of a Druid grove ; and I cannot help think- 
 ing that when I shall have stated the various cir- 
 cumstances which induce us to come to this con-
 
 VI.] ANCIENT IDOLATERS. 91 
 
 elusion, you will admit it is not wholly M-itliout pro- 
 bability or reason. 
 
 Every one at aU conversant with history is aware 
 that no community of the British priesthood was 
 without its sacred grove, a custom derived from the 
 most remote countries and ages, for the Bible in- 
 forms us that such groves were the resort of Eastern 
 idolatry in its most fearful rites, and that svich were 
 generally found on eminences or " high places." We 
 read in the Second Book of Kino-s, that when '• the 
 children of Israel did secretly those things that were 
 not right against the Lord their God, they built 
 them high places in all then- cities," they " set them 
 up images and groves on every high liill and under 
 every green tree, and there they burnt incense in all 
 the high places." And again we find these corrupt 
 Israehtes " left all the commandments of the Lord 
 their God, and made a grove, and worshipped all 
 the host of Heaven, and served Baal." 
 
 The Druid priesthood did the same in after ages ; 
 and their groves, their altars and " high places," are 
 still remaining, though in the last vestige of their 
 decay, as witnesses of their idolatry, in the extensive 
 wilderness of Dartmoor. How striking a resemblance 
 does the following passage of scripture bear to the 
 superstitions and practices of Celtic nations ! Speak- 
 ing of ^Uiab, it is recorded that " he reared altars 
 for Baal, and made a grove ; and worshipped all the 
 host of Heaven and served them;" and that "he 
 made his son pass through fire, and observed times 
 and used enchantments with familiar spirits and 
 wizards." And Avhen Josiah conquered these in- 
 fidels, it is AATitten that he destroyed the " groves 
 and vessels made for Baal, — for the sun, the moon,
 
 92 QUOTATIONS FROM THE BIBLE. [lET. 
 
 and the planets, and put down the idolatrous priests 
 ■who had burnt the incense to them on high places ;" 
 and that " he defiled Tophet, which is in the valley 
 of the children of Hinnom, that no man might make 
 his son or his daughter to pass through the fire to 
 Moloch." And he " took away the horses that the 
 king-s of Judah had given to the sun*." How much 
 does this superstition (of the horses given to Baal, 
 or Bel, the God of the Sun,) agree ^\ith a passage 
 in Tacitus, Avhere, speaking of the manners of the 
 ancient Germans, he says, "a number of milk-white 
 steeds, unprofaned by mortal labour, are constantly 
 maintained at the pubUc expense, and placed to 
 pasture in the religious groves! Wlicn occasion 
 requires, they are harnessed to a sacred chariot; 
 and the priest, accompanied by the king, or chief 
 of the state, attends to watch the motions and the 
 neighings of the horses. No other mode of augury 
 is received with such implicit faith by the people, 
 the nobility, and the priesthood. The horses, upon 
 these solemn occasions, are supposed to be the or- 
 gans of the Gods, and the priests their favoured 
 interpreters." 
 
 Csesar and Diodorus both speak of the Druid 
 groves of superstition ; and Tacitus does the same 
 in regard to the Germans, who, as well as the Gauls 
 and Britons, were followers of the Celtic idolatry. 
 " Their deities," says that admirable historian, " are 
 not immured in temples, nor represented under any 
 kind of resemblance to the human form. To do 
 cither were, in their opinion, to derogate from the 
 
 * III the same chapter we read, that Josiah " slew all the priests 
 of the high places that were there, upon the altars, and burnt men's 
 bones upon them."
 
 VI.] ANTIQUITY OF WISTMAN's WOOD. 93 
 
 majesty of supreme beings. Woods and groves are 
 the sacred depositaries, and the spots consecrated to 
 their pious uses : tlicy give to that sacred recess the 
 name of the divinitv that fills the place." So nu- 
 merous are the allusions of the classical writers to 
 the groves of Druidism, that it is not necessary to 
 recite examples ; since no fact is more clearly esta- 
 blished tlian that no society of the Celtic priesthood 
 was without its grove, for the purposes of instruction, 
 retirement, augury, and numerous other religious 
 rites. The custom of cutting the misletoe from the 
 oaks of these sanctuaries is too generally known to 
 need any particular notice ; since the commonly- 
 received idea of a Druid, with those who scarcely 
 read at alb presents itself to the mind under the 
 figure of an old man with a long beard, who cuts 
 misletoe from the oaks with a golden hook. 
 
 In order to ascertain how far the conjecture is 
 founded on probabihty that Wistman's "Wood, on 
 Dartmoor, is the posterity of a Druid grove, we 
 must consider its known antiquity*— its localities — 
 the extraordinary appearance and actual state of the 
 dwarf and venerable trees, that still flourish in decay 
 amidst the rudest storms, and in one of the rudest 
 spots throughout the whole of the moor ; — the pro- 
 bable age of these oaks, and how far one tree would 
 be likely to succeed another ; — and though last, not 
 
 * In the office of the Duchy of Cornwall there is preserved a 
 Perambulation of the Moor, of very high antiquity, by which it appears 
 that AVibtman's Wood was nearly in the same state as at present at 
 the time of the Norman Conquest. This is a very curious fact, and 
 it should be borne in mind by the reader, as it goes far to establish the 
 opinion the writer has ventured to give on this most interesting vestige 
 of the forest.
 
 94 LOCALITY OF VVISTMAn's WOOD. [lET. 
 
 least, their relative situation with the other British 
 antiquities, by which they are in fact surrounded, and 
 that close at hand. Mr. Bray's derivation of the 
 name of Wistman's Wood, given in the last letter, 
 must also be borne in mind ; since this most curious 
 antiquity in the vegetable world is very near Bair- 
 down : so that if he is right in his derivation in both 
 instances, the hill of Bards, and the Avood of the 
 Wisemen, or Druids, were contiguous. 
 
 Wistman's Wood, then, lies on the side of a steep 
 hill, opposite Bair-down ; at its base mns the western 
 branch of the river Dart. Let me fancy for a moment 
 that you are Avithus— (a dream I one clay hope to see 
 realized) — join our excvu'sion, and, whilst attempting 
 to visit this eminence, are helping me along from 
 Bair-down ; a friendly arm being a very necessary 
 support to a female who ventures on the expedi- 
 tion ; Avhich to one like myself, not OA^erburdencd Avith 
 strength or health, is a task of no small labour, 
 though replete AA'ith interest. 
 
 The farmer, Hannaford, is our guide ; and after 
 having passed up and doAA^n hill, and o\'er one of the 
 bovmdary-Avalls, or enclosures, some of the stones of 
 AA'hich he removes (and builds up again) to alFord us 
 an easier Avay of clambering over it, Ave haAO ma- 
 naged, by jumping from rock to rock, in part to 
 ford the river Dart, the waters not being so high as 
 to prevent our doing so, till at length Ave come to 
 one place so puzzling — so difficult — that our Her- 
 culean guide can see no other Avay of getting me 
 over but that of taking me up, and putting me across 
 with as much ease and good Avill as Gulliver AA'ould 
 have displayed in assisting the Queen of Lilliput in 
 crossing a puddle. At last we arc landed on the
 
 VI.] CHARMING ADDERS. 95 
 
 opposite bank, and there lies Wistinan's Wood, 
 rocks and all, before us ; — an inviting- object to 
 curiosity and specidation with those who love to 
 indulo-e in visions of the " olden time." 
 
 The summit of the eminence cannot be seen, on 
 account of its steep ascent ; and huge piles, mass on 
 mass of granite blocks seem to rise and grow before 
 us as we pace upwards towards the wood. Every 
 step requires wary walking, since to stumble amidst 
 such rocks, holes, and hollows might be attended 
 with an accident that would prevent all further in- 
 vestigation ; and the farmer says, " 'Tis a wisht old 
 place, sure enough, and full of adders as can be." 
 This last cominunication somewhat cools my en- 
 thusiasm about Druid groves ; but the farmer offers 
 and supphes a speedy remedy, — one, too, of most 
 m5'stical origin, and not a little heathenish, being 
 derived from the very Druids upon whose haunts 
 we are about to intrude ; for he transfers to my 
 hand the ashen bough or sprig that he was caiTying 
 in his ovm, and initiates me, on the spot, into the 
 pagan rites of charming adders, to render them 
 harmless as the poorest worm that crawls upon the 
 earth. He tells me, that the moment I see an adder 
 I have nothing to do but to draw a cu'cle with an 
 ash rod round it, and that the creature will never go 
 out of it ; nay, if a fire were kindled in the ring, it 
 would rather go into the fire itself than ])ass the 
 circle. He believed, also, that an animal bitten by 
 this venomous reptile may be cured by having a 
 kind of collar woven of ash-twigs suspended round 
 his neck. He likewise mentions having, a year or 
 two ago, killed a very large adder that had been
 
 96 DRUIDICAL AKTS. [lET. 
 
 tamed by the above charm, when he took fifteen 
 young ones from its belly. 
 
 To return to our expedition : these superstitions 
 (as we pause a moment to take breath before we 
 continvie the rough ascent) become the subject of 
 our conversation ; and we cannot help remarking 
 how appropriate they are to the place of Druid 
 antiquity, since the one may be traced to the ser- 
 pent's egg, and the other, very probably, to the 
 virga divinatoria, or diviner s rod. Indeed all ma- 
 2:icians and sorcerers are described, from the earliest 
 ao'es, as beino; armed with a wand or rod : we read 
 of this, too, in the Bible, where the rods of the 
 magicians were turned into serpents, and the rod of 
 Moses, so transformed, swallowed them up. That the 
 Druids professed magical arts cannot be doubted, 
 since Pliny calls that priesthood " the magi of the 
 Gauls and Britons ;"' and of this island he says, 
 " Magic is now so much practised in Britain, and 
 with so many similar rites, that we cannot but come 
 to the conclusion, that they immediately derived it 
 from the magi of the Persians." The bard Taliesin 
 thus speaks of the magic wand of the Druids : 
 " Were I to compose the strain, were I to sing, 
 magic spells wovud spring, like those produced by 
 the circle and wand of Twrch Trwytli." I think I 
 have somewhere read, that the sophists of India, 
 also, pretended to possess the power of charming 
 venomous reptiles ; and there can be little doubt the 
 art was long practised in Britain, since it has been 
 supposed that the caduceus seen in the hand of 
 Mercury had its origin in the British isles, where 
 the Druids exercised the arts of charming serpents. 
 And Toland, who, in his very learned work, has
 
 VI.] SPRING AT WISTMAN"s AVOOD. 97 
 
 brought to light so much curious information respect- 
 in a- Druidism, informs us that, in tlie Lowlands of 
 Scotland, many glass amulets were found which the 
 people of that country called adder stanes. The 
 Druids, Ave know, carried magic amiilets about their 
 persons ; and it may also be remarked, that the 
 adder itself was held as a symbol of the Helio-arkite 
 god, and, therefore, of his priest, who took his sta- 
 tion on the sacred mount, or in the no less sacred 
 Diluvian lake *. 
 
 Now, all these things considered induce me to 
 believe that as Dartmoor must from the earliest 
 times have been most prolific in vipers, the mode of 
 charminiT them with an ashen wand, still retained 
 by the peasantry of the moor, is nothing less than a 
 vestige of the customs of Druid antiquity. 
 
 Having paused a moment to consider the origin 
 of the ashen wand and the circles about the adders, 
 we once more turn our attention to Wistman's 
 Wood; and near its commencement, on the sovith 
 side, we find a spring of the clearest and the purest 
 water, which Hannaford, the farmer, tells us never 
 fails. It bursts from beneath a rock, and, like most 
 of the blessings of Providence (Avhethcr we avail 
 ourselves of them or not), it still pours its limpid 
 
 * The serpent's egg, which the Druids pretended to catch in the 
 air, in order to impose upon the midtitude, was held as a mystery. 
 They wore this egg round their necks ; no one in Britain except them- 
 selves knew the secret of manufacturing this kind of glass. " The 
 priests,'' says Davies, " carried about them certain trinkets of vitrified 
 matter, and this custom had a view to Arkite mysteries." The great 
 Druid temple at Carnac (which I visited in early life) is, I am 
 informed, now ascertained to be in the form of a serpent. Might it 
 not, therefore, have had reference to the mysteries of the Diluvian, 
 Helio-avkitc god P Carnac stands very near the sea shore. 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 A druid's grove. [let. 
 
 fountain in fruitful abundance, amidst the mldness 
 and desolation of the spot, and nourishes a thousand 
 beautiful mosses and flowers, that render the moor, 
 thouo-h a desert in one sense of the word, as a rich 
 Avilderness for Flora and her train. 
 
 We now view with surprise the oaks before us : 
 and such is their singular appearance, that, ^^ithout 
 stopping to reason upon the subject, we are all dis- 
 posed to think that they are really no other than the 
 last remnant of a Druid grove ; or rather the last 
 vestige of its posterity. You, being a poet (for I 
 must still be allowed to fanc}'^ you b}^ my side), think 
 of Lucan ; and repeat the passage in his ' Pharsaha,' 
 where he describes the impression made on the 
 Koman soldiery under Caesar, on their entering 
 beneath the gloom and solemnity of a Druid grove ; 
 their iiorror, their silent dread to touch with the axe 
 that old and honoured wood : till Csesar snatching it 
 from their trembling hands, aimed the iirst blow 
 and violated the oaks so long held sacred to a dark 
 and sanguinary superstition. 
 
 When you have finished your quotation from 
 Lucan, I tell you that Rowe, who was his translator 
 into English verse, is said to have been born in 
 Lamerton, only three miles from Tavistock ; of which 
 pretty little village his father Avas the incumbent. 
 And Mr. Bray, Avho has long been an enthusiast 
 about Dartmoor and the Druids, is ready to follow 
 your quotation by repeating the noble lines from 
 Mason's ' Caractacus ' descriptive of a Druid grove ; 
 whilst I, determined to have my share of poetical 
 feeling, recite the sonnet, written by my husband, 
 when very young, on Wistman's Wood ; quite aware 
 that, though I repeat it to the author of ' INIadoc,' he
 
 VI.] LEGEND OF THE OLD TREES. 99 
 
 has tliat generous feeling, not always found in those 
 who have reached the summit of their art, to listen 
 with good nature and indulgence to the productions 
 of others who may stand afar off : — 
 
 To Wistman's Wood. 
 Sole relics of the wreath that crown'd the moor ! 
 
 A thousand tempests (bravely though withstood. 
 
 Whilst, shelter'd in your caves, the wolfs dire brood 
 Scared the wild echoes with their hideous roar,) 
 Have bent your aged heads, now scathed and hoar 
 
 And in Dart's wizard stream your leaves have strew'd, 
 
 Since Druid priests your sacred rocks imbrued 
 With victims ofFer'd to their gods of gore. 
 In lonely grandeur, your firm looks recall 
 
 What history teaches from her classic page; 
 How Rome's proud senate on the hordes of Gaul 
 
 Indignant frown'd. and stay'd their brutal rage. 
 Yet Time's rude hand shall speed, like iheirs, your fall, 
 
 That selfsame hand so long that spared your age. 
 
 Whilst these poetical feelings prompt each to 
 some suitable expression of them, the farmer, a 
 matter-of-fact man, looks as if he thought us all " a 
 little mazed," as they say in Devonshire, " about the 
 Avisht, old trees ;" and now it being his turn to say 
 something, he gives us his own legend about them; 
 which is, that according to tradition, or as he ex- 
 presses it, " as the people do tell, that the giants 
 once were masters of all the hill country, and had 
 great forests, and set up their karns (he calls them 
 by their right name), and their great stones and 
 circles, and all they old, ancient things about the 
 moor." 
 
 As w^e advance w^e again contemplate \\i\h. wonder 
 and interest the cxtraordinaiy object before us. It 
 is altogether unlike anything else. There is a steep 
 height, to toil up Avhich I compare to going up the 
 
 f2
 
 100 I DWARF OAK TREES. [lET. 
 
 side of a pyramid ; but you say it is a mole-hill com- 
 pared to Slciddaw ; and Mr. Bray talks about the 
 grand mountains of North Wales ; neither of whicli 
 I have ever visited, thoug-h I have seen a real moun- 
 tain in South AYales, and toiled up one, too. 
 
 The ascent to Wistman's Wood is strewn all over 
 with immense masses of granite, that lie scattered 
 in every direction. The soil about these rocks is 
 very scanty, and appears, the same as in many other 
 parts of the moor, to be composed of decaj-ed vege- 
 table matter. In the midst of these gigantic blocks, 
 growing among them, or starting, as it were, from 
 their interstices, arises wildly, and here and there 
 widely scattered, a grove of dwarf oak trees. Their 
 situation, exposed to the bleak winds, which rush 
 past the side of the declivity on whicli they grow, 
 and through the valley of the Dart at their base (a 
 valley that acts like a tunnel to assist the fury of the 
 gust), the diminutive height of the trees, their sin- 
 gular and antiquated appearance, all combine to 
 raise feelings of mingled curiosity and wonder. The 
 oaks are not above ten or twelve feet high, so stunted 
 is their growth by the sweeping winds to which they 
 stand exposed; but they spread far and wide at 
 their tops, and their branches twist and wind in the 
 most tortuous and fastastic manner ; sometimes re- 
 minding one of those strange things called man- 
 drakes ; of which there is a superstition noticed by 
 Shakspeare — 
 
 Like shrieking mandrakes, torn from out the earth. 
 
 In some places these branches are literally festooned 
 with ivy and creeping plants ; and their trunks are 
 so thickly embedded in a covering of fine velvet
 
 VI.] DWARF OAK TREES. 101 
 
 moss, that at first sight you would miagine them to 
 be of enormous thickness in proportion to their 
 height. But it is onl}- their velvet coats that make 
 them look so bulky ; for on examination they are not 
 found to be of any remarkable size. Their whole 
 appearance conveys to you the idea of hoary age in 
 the vegetable world of creation; and on visiting 
 Wistman's Wood, it is impossible to do other than 
 think of those " groves in stony places' ' so often 
 mentioned in Scripture, as being dedicated to Baal 
 and Ashtaroth. This ancient seat of idolatry seems 
 to have undergone, also, a great part of the curse 
 that was pronounced on the idolatrous cities and 
 groves of old ; for here, indeed, do " serpents hiss," 
 and it shall never be inhabited, '• neither doth the 
 shepherd make his fold there ;" " but the wild beasts 
 of the desert and the owl dwell there," and " the 
 bittern" still screams amidst its " desolation." 
 
 Many of the immense masses of granite around 
 and under the trees are covered Avith a cushion of 
 the thickest and the softest moss ; but to sit down 
 upon them would be rather too hazardous ; since 
 such a seat might chance to disturb from their com- 
 fortable bed a nest of adders that are very apt to 
 shelter in such a covert; and fevr persons, now-a- 
 days, would feel quite so confident as honest Hanna- 
 forcl in the power and efficacy of tlie ashen wand 
 to render them innocuous. The oaks, though stunted 
 and turning from the west winds to which they are 
 most exposed, are by no means destitute of foliage ; 
 and the o-ood-natured farmer cuts me down a branch 
 to carry home in triumph, after having achieved the 
 adventure of a visit to^\ istman's Wood, — a visit by 
 no means common with ladies. This branch has
 
 102 TRADITION OF WISTMAN's WOOD. [lET. 
 
 upon it several acorns, the smallest I ever saw in all 
 my life ; but the leaves are of the usual size, and as 
 vigorous as most other trees of the same kind. 
 
 I shall now give you a short extract from a very 
 brief entry in Mr. Bray's journal of August 9th, 
 1827, concerning this wood. He says as follows : — 
 " Tradition relates that Wistman''s Wood was planted 
 by the celebrated Isabella de Fortibus, Countess of 
 Devon*. But I do not hesitate to say, that, to any 
 one who has visited the spot, it is e^ddent no other 
 hand has planted it than that of God. No one 
 would or could have planted trees in the midst of 
 such rocks. f They unquestionably can be no other 
 than the remains of the original forest; which, 
 though in its original acceptation — according to Du 
 Cange in V. Foresta, it comes ffom feris, that is, 
 ferarum statio, a station for wild beasts — it means 
 but ' a wild uncultivated ground interspersed with 
 wood,' J must yet have had some trees, at intervals, 
 in every part of it. At present (except here, and in 
 some modern plantations, of which those of my 
 father are the finest) there are none, though the 
 trunks of trees are occasionally found in the bogs. 
 It is not improbable that these trees were first very 
 
 * Among the peers of Henry the Second, was William de Fortibus, 
 Earl of Albemarle, created Earl of Devon in right of his wife Isabel, 
 sister and heiress to Baldwin de Redvers, or Rivers, eighth Earl of 
 Devonshire. The title thus created in 1262 became extinct in 1270. 
 
 f That Wistman's Wood was 7wt planted by Isabella de Fortibus is 
 proved by the fact before noticed, that the record uf a perambulation 
 of the moor (made immediately after the Norman conquest) is still / 
 preserved in the otKce of the Duchy of Cornwall, by which we find 
 W' ibtman"s Wood was even at that remote period much the same as it 
 now appears. 
 
 X Todd"s Johnson's Diet. See also there the leijal sense of the 
 word.
 
 VI.] Evelyn's silva. 103 
 
 generally destroyed by fire, in order to extirpate the 
 wolves. The few that remained were destroyed by 
 cattle afterwards pastured there ; and it is only, per- 
 haps, owing to their being- so surrounded and inter- 
 spersed with rocks that those of the wood in question 
 have been preserved from a similar depredation. 
 
 " At the late visitation at Ta\dstock, on the 31st of 
 May, Archdeacon Froude, a gentleman possessed of 
 considerable antiquarian information, told me that 
 he had lately obtained part of a tree from this wood, 
 with a view, if possible, to discover its age by the 
 number of circles fi-om its centre to the circum- 
 ference; that, by the aid of a microscope, he had 
 counted about seven Imndred ; but that at times the 
 divisions were so minute as hardly to be distin- 
 guishable ; that, different from any other trees he 
 had ever seen, the circles were more contracted, and 
 in a manner condensed, on one side than on any 
 other ; and that he supposed this was the side the 
 most exposed to the beat of the weather. On con- 
 sulting Evelyn's Silva, I found the follo^\dng pas- 
 sages in his second volume, which may throw some 
 light upon the subject : — 
 
 " ' The trunk or bough of a tree being cut trans- 
 versely plain and smooth, sheweth several cii'cles or 
 rings more or less orbicular, according to the ex- 
 ternal figure, in some parallel proportion, one with- 
 out the other, from the centre of the wood to the 
 inside of the bark, dividing the whole into so many 
 
 circular spaces by the largeness or smallness 
 
 of the rings, the quickness or slowness of the growth 
 of any tree may, perhaps, at certainty be estimated." 
 —p. 201. 
 
 " ' The spaces are manifestly broader on the one
 
 104 SILVER COINS, ETC. [lET. 
 
 side than on the other, especiall}^ the more outer, to 
 a double proportion, or more ; the inner Leing near 
 an equahty. 
 
 " ' It is asserted that the larger parts of these rings 
 are on the south and sunny side of the tree (which is 
 very rational and probable) insomuch, that bv cutting 
 a tree tranverse, and drawing a diameter through the 
 broadest and narrowest parts of the ring, a meridian 
 line may l)c described. 
 
 " ' It is commonly and very probably asserted, that 
 a tree gains a new ring every year. In the body of 
 a great oak in the New-Forest cut transversely even 
 (vshere many of the trees are accounted to be some 
 hundreds of years old) three and four hundred have 
 been distino-uished.' These and other remarks, he 
 attributes (p. 204) to ' that learned person, the late 
 Dr. Goddard.' For the age of trees, see Clarke's 
 Travels, vol. vii., p. 312. 4th Edit. 8vo. 
 
 " 2\Iy tenant, Hannaford, said that his uncle had 
 found a few silver coins, about the size of a sixpence, 
 in some of the kairns on the moor, and promised, if 
 possible, to obtain for me a sight of them. He 
 further informed me that he had lately destroyed 
 what he called a cave,* which he described as com- 
 posed of a large oblong stone supported, as a cover, 
 by others set on edge at the head and foot, and on 
 cither side ; and that, among the stones and earth 
 within, he found some human hair clotted together, 
 but no bones or other vestige of the body. Hair, it 
 is said, wiU ctow as lone; as there is any moisture in 
 the body ; but whether it will last longer than bones 
 
 * Or Kic've : which sij^nlfies, I believe, any large vessel, fiom a 
 puncheon to a caldron. There is a waterfall in Cornwall called 
 St. Nathan's Kieve, probably from the basiu into which it falls.
 
 VI.] VESTIGES OF DRUIDISM. 105- 
 
 is a question that seems hardly yet decided. Might 
 it not have been the scalp of an enemy, or hair 
 offered up to the manes of the departed, or to some 
 deity, of which this might be the altar ? The re- 
 mains of one of these British monuments still exist 
 on Bair-down ; but the ancient circular enclosures (of 
 Avhich there are so many near Wistman's Wood) that 
 I myself remember there, were unfortimatcly de- 
 stroyed when my father erected his ring-fence." 
 
 I have, my dear Sir, already given you Mr. Bray's 
 conjectures as to the etymology of Wistman's Wood; 
 and the opinion of its having been a grove sacred 
 to the rites of Druidism, obtains no inconsiderable 
 support from its immediate localities; since, notwith- 
 standing the spoliation of successive ages, there still 
 remain, close to it, many British antiquities. Such, 
 for instance, as three cairns (and several others have 
 been destroyed within the last twenty years to supply 
 stones for the boundary walls. Sec), some hut rings, 
 and the circles noticed by Mr. Bray in his Journal : 
 these are all near the wood ; whilst to the south of it 
 lies Crockerntor, the undoubted seat of British juris- 
 prudence on the moor, and of which I shall speak at 
 large in my next letter. To the west, separated only 
 by the narrow valley that is watered by the river Dart, 
 is found Bair-down, or the hill of Bards. And Little- 
 ford tor is also not far distant from Wistmans Wood, 
 contiguous to which is seen a group of above sixty 
 hut circles. Thus then do we find that this venerable 
 grove, situated in the very heart of the moor, is on 
 all sides surrounded by vestiges of Druid antiquity. 
 
 Before I conclude this account of the wood (in 
 which there is not one circumstance fictitious, ex- 
 cepting my having indulged in the fancy of your 
 
 F 5
 
 106 BRITISH BARDS. [lET. 
 
 being of the party when I visited it in 1827), I ought 
 to mention that Mr. Bray conjectures that it was 
 very probably one of the last retreats of the Druids 
 of Damnonia, after they were exposed to the perse- 
 cution of the Roman power. There appeal's to me 
 nothing improbable in this conjecture ; for we all 
 know how long after that epoch the bards sought 
 shelter, and existed in Caledonia, Armorica, Wales, 
 and Cornvv'all. Dartmoor, so near the last named 
 retreat, from its mountainous character, its v.ant of 
 roads, its deep recesses, its loneliness and general 
 difficulty of access, must long have stood as an im- 
 penetrable barrier against persecution.* 
 
 On the moor, shelter and even safety might be 
 found for those who, to the last, struggled to main- 
 tain their power ; and who, rather than yield up the 
 sacred privileges of that priesthood in wliich they 
 had been trained from their earliest years, fled to 
 rocks and deserts as their retreat ; and there still 
 preserved their sway, though reduced in numbers 
 and confined within a comparatively small space for 
 their dominion. 
 
 That such men were long welcome to, and upheld 
 by the British people, is proved by the circumstance 
 of the Bards ha\-ino' existed for so manv erenerations 
 in Scotland, Ireland, Cornwall, and Wales, when 
 they were extinct in all other parts of Great Britain. 
 The natives of the soil, it cannot be doubted, long 
 maintained a veneration for their ancient customs 
 and superstitions; and their bards possessed that 
 
 * Mr. Polwhele considers that the Romans never penetrated into 
 Dartmoor; and that this circumstance is the cause of no Roman- bar- 
 rows or antiquities being there found: all that have hitherto been 
 discovered being undoubtedly British.
 
 VI.] GENIUS OF THE BARDS. 107 
 
 feeling, that tenderness wliich is ever the companion 
 of poetry ; and without Avhich real genius, in any 
 branch of literature, surely cannot exist : for if 
 Platos definition of genius be really true, that, even 
 in its highest order, it is nothing more than " extent 
 of sympathy," the bards might claim it as their own. 
 Hence arose their power, and hence was it that they 
 kept alive, by their pathetic appeals to the hearts of 
 the Britons, all the pity that their own persecuted 
 state was likely to call forth. They were, it is true, 
 " fallen fi-om their high estate," and from their ac- 
 knowledged power; they were seared and blighted — 
 yet fi-om that very cause were they become but the 
 more cherished and honored ; even as the ancients 
 hallowed those spots of earth that had been blasted 
 by the lightning and the thunder-bolt of Jove — 
 misfortune had touched them, and they were sacred. 
 In their bards, also, the Britons heard the voice 
 of " other times," the history of their forefathers, the 
 legends and traditions of their country. Such re- 
 citals could elevate or soften the souls of tlieir 
 auditors, as they sat around with the glistening eye^ 
 the suppressed respiration, and the varying and 
 accompanpng feeling to each modulation of tlieir 
 song, that could nerve the arm to action, or melt 
 the heart to pity, as the subject arose to energy, 
 or, chord by chord, died away in low sounds as the 
 melody of melancholy spoke Avith irresistible power 
 in the cadence of their harp. And when he, too, 
 should be no more, the hardy British chief looked to 
 the genius of the bards as the bulwark of his fame. 
 The mossy stone and the cairn might mark the spot 
 where rested the mortal fabric of his body, but his 
 more enduring monument was in immortal verse;
 
 108 GENIUS OF THE BARDS. [lET. 
 
 that spirit of poesy, which, given hy the great Giver 
 of all good, is as a ray of the divinity here on earth. 
 Long, therefore, were the Lards cherished, long did 
 they survive, honored in their ruin and in their fall ; 
 and now, perhaps, in the lonely and melancholy wood 
 of Wistman, we behold one of the last decaying 
 vestiy-es of their retreat. 
 
 Allow me to remain, my dear Sir, 
 Yours, &c., &c., 
 
 A. E. B.
 
 109 
 
 LETTER YII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHF.Y, ESQ. 
 
 Contents: — Fabrics of unhewn stone of Eastern origin — Examples 
 given — The Gorseddau or Court of Judicature ; its high antiquity — 
 The solemnity of trial — Druid judges in civil and religious causes — 
 Courts of Judicature held iir the open air with the nations of anti- 
 quity — Crockerntor or Dartmoor — Such a Court in the Cantred of 
 Tamare — Since chosen for the Court of the Stannaries— Account of 
 Crockerntor in ancient and modern times — Tin traffic — Stannaries, 
 &c. — The Judge's chair — Parliament-rock, &c., described — Longa- 
 ford Tor — Rock basin — Many barrows on Stennen Hill — A pot of 
 money, according to tradition, found ia one of them — Bair-down 
 Man, or British obelisk — The Grey Wethers; stones so called — 
 — Causes for Crockerntor being chosen by the Stannaries for their 
 Parliament — Probably the Wittenagemot of this district succeeded 
 on the very spot where the Gorseddau was held in British times — 
 Grimspound a yast circular wall ; its antiquity — Account of similar 
 structures by Strabo and Caesar — Arthur's Stone, a British structure 
 of great interest — Flocks and herds of the Britons — Tin traffic — The 
 scarlet dye mentioned by Pliny, probably alluding to the scarlet 
 moss, from which dyes are formed, on the Moor — Excursion in 
 search of Dennabridge pound — Horses in their free state — The 
 river at Dennabridge — Judge Buller exonerated from having re- 
 moved the great stone, used as a table by the old Stannators at 
 Parliament-rock — The stone found at last far from its original 
 station — Dennabridge pound, its extent, &e., described — Trunk of 
 an oak free, found by Ilannaford, in a bog — Oak bowls fomid in a 
 bog on the Moor; their great antiquity — River Cowsick — Inscrip- 
 tion to Shakspeare on the rock below the bridge. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, March 9t/i, 1 832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I PURPOSE in this letter giving you some account 
 of a place on Dartmoor which, it is most probable, 
 was used in the days of the Britons as a tribunal of
 
 110 TEMPLES, ETC., OF STONE. [lET. 
 
 justice. Unlle^\^l stones and circles of the same, it 
 is generally admitted, were raised for courts of this 
 description ; and we have the most ancient and un- 
 doubted authority — the Bible, for considering that 
 fabrics of unhewn stone derive their origin (like the 
 more rational parts of the religion of the Druids) 
 from those eastern nations of which the Celtse were 
 a branch. 
 
 We find that the custom of erecting, or of conse- 
 crating monuments of this nature as memorials of a 
 covenant, in honour of the dead, as places of wor- 
 ship, &c., prevailed even from the earliest times. 
 Jacob and Laban made a covenant in Gilead ; and 
 no sooner was this done, than " Jacob took a stone 
 and set it vip for a pillar." Joshua in passing over 
 Jordan with the ark caused a heap of stones to be 
 raised, that they '• should be for a memorial unto the 
 children of Israel for ever." And certain tribes 
 also " built there an altar by Jordan, a great altar 
 to see." And after Joshua had destroyed Achan, 
 *' they raised over him a great heap of stones unto 
 this day." The Jewish conqu-erors did the same by 
 the King of Ai ; and on Absalom " did they heap 
 stones :" and Eachefs monument, the first we read 
 of in the Bible, was of stone, for Jacob " set up a 
 pillar upon her grave." * 
 
 There cannot, 1 think, be a doubt that the courts, 
 as well as the temples of unhewn stone, had their 
 origin in the East. And as the laws of the British 
 peo])le were delivered to them by the Druids, not as 
 secular ordinances, but as the commands of the gods 
 whom they adored, this cu'cumstancc no doubt added 
 
 * Vide Herodotus for the stones set up by Sesostris.
 
 VII.] THE GORSEDDAU. Ill 
 
 to the solemnity of their administration : so that it is 
 not improbable the spot appointed for the Gorseddau 
 or Court of Judicature was chosen with a view to 
 the most advantageous display of its august rites. 
 Hence an elevated station, like the temples of their 
 worship, became desirable; and there must have 
 been a more than ordinary feehng of awe inspired 
 in the mind of the criminal, by ascending heights 
 covered, perhaps, with a multitude^ to whose gaze he 
 was exposed, as he drew nigh and looked upon those 
 massive rocks, the seat of divine authority and judg- 
 ment. Hov,- imposing must have been the sight of 
 the priesthood and their numerous train, surrounded 
 by all the outward pomps and insignia of their office ; 
 as he listened, may be, to the solemn hymns of the 
 Vates, preparatory to the ceremonial of justice, or as 
 he stept ^^ithin the sacred enclosure, there to receive 
 condemnation or acquittal, to be referred to the 
 ordeal of the logan, or the tolmen, according to the 
 will of the presiding priest ! — As he slowly advanced 
 and thought upon these things, often must he have 
 shuddered and trembled to meet the Druid's eye, 
 when, to use the words of Ossian, he stood by •• the 
 stone of his power." 
 
 The Druids not only adjudged, but with their 
 own hands executed the terrific sentence they had 
 decreed. The human victims which they immolated 
 to appease, or to render propitious their deities, 
 (particularly those offered to Hesus the God of 
 Battles, and to Bel, or the Sun,) were generally 
 chosen from criminals ; unless when the numbers 
 demanded by the sacrifice induced them to mingle 
 the blood of the innocent with that of the guilty, to
 
 112 ANTIQUITY OF THE GORSEDDAU. [lET. 
 
 supply tlicir cruel rites. And as these sacrifices 
 were not merely confined to the eve of a hattle, or to 
 make intercession for the calamities of a kingdom, 
 but were frequently offered up at the prayer of any 
 chief or noble afflicted by disease, it is not unlikely 
 that the condemned criminal was hurried from the 
 Gorseddau to suffer as a victim to the gods, against 
 whose supreme will all crimes were held to be com- 
 mitted that were done upon the earth. 
 
 That these ancient courts of justice were kept in 
 the open air seems to be the most probable opinion, 
 since such was the custom with many of the nations 
 of antiquity ; the Areopagus of the Greeks is an 
 instance. And in earlier ages we find it to have 
 been much the same ; as we read in the Bible of the 
 ciders pronouncing judgment " sitting in the gates." 
 These gates were at the entrance of a town or city ; 
 a court that must have been in some measure held 
 in the open air. With the Celtic nations it was un- 
 questionably a practice that long prevailed amongst 
 their posterity ; since, in the ancient laws of Wales, 
 the Judge was directed '' to sit with his back to the 
 sun or storm, that he might not be incommoded by 
 either."' * 
 
 One of these primitive courts, handed do^\^l as 
 such by successive ages from the earliest times, 
 through the various changes of government and 
 
 * Dr. Clarke when describing the Celtic remains at Morasteen, 
 near old Upsal, says, "We shall not quit the subject of the Morasteen 
 (the circle of stones) without noticinj;, that, in the central stone of such 
 monuments, we may, perhaps, discern the origin of the Grecian (Bjj^a) 
 TUma, ax stone trihiinal, M\A of the ' set thrones of judgment' men- 
 tioned in Scripture and elsewhere, as the places on which kings and 
 judges were elevated ; for these were always of stone."
 
 VI!.] CROCKERNTOR, 113 
 
 religion, is to this day foimd on Dartmoor : it is 
 known by tlic name of Croclcerntor,* the most 
 curious and remarlcablc seat, perhaps, of Druidical 
 judicature throughout the whole kingdom. It re- 
 mained as the Court of the Stannaries till within 
 the last century, and hence was it commonly called 
 Parliament-rock. On this spot the chief miners of 
 Devon were, by their charters, obliged to assemble. 
 Sometimes a company of two or three hundred 
 persons would there meet, but on account of the 
 situation, after the necessary and preliminary forms 
 had been gone through, they usually adjourned to 
 Tavistock, or some other Stannary town, to settle 
 their affairs. The Lord Warden, who was the 
 Supreme Judge of the Stannary Courts, invariably 
 issued his summons that the jurors should meet at 
 Crockerntor on such a day; and by an accidental 
 reference to an old magazine, I find a record of a 
 meetino; of this nature havino; been there held so 
 late as the year 1749. If this was the last meeting 
 or not, I cannot say, but I should think not, and that 
 the custom died gradually away, till it was altogether 
 abolished. 
 
 Some powerful motive, some deep veneration for 
 ancient usages, or some old custom too well esta- 
 blished to be easily set aside, must have operated to 
 have caused these Stannarj- Courts, in comparatively 
 modern times, to be held on such a spot as Crock- 
 erntor : whose rocks stand on the summit of a loftv 
 
 * Mr. Polwhele saj's, in his Devon, '' For the Cantred of Tamare 
 we may fix, I think, the seat of judicature at Crockerntor on Dartmoor; 
 here, indeed, it seems already fixed at our hands, and I have scarce a 
 doubt but the Stannary Parliaments at this place were a continuation 
 even to our own times of the old British Courts, before the age of 
 Julius Cffisar.'
 
 114 PARLIAMENT-ROCK. [lET. 
 
 height open on all sides to the bleak winds and to 
 the weather, affording no shelter from a storm, re- 
 mote from the habitations of men, and, in short, 
 presenting such a combination of difficulties, and so 
 many discomforts to any persons assembling on 
 matters of business, that nothing can be more im- 
 probable, I had almost said impossible, that such a 
 place should have been chosen for the Stannary 
 Courts, had it not been handed down as a spot con- 
 secrated to justice from the earliest ages. 
 
 Having offered these few introductory remarks on 
 the subject of Crockerntor, I now give you the fol- 
 lowing extracts from Mr. Bray's journal of his sur- 
 vey of the western limits of Dartmoor, so long ago 
 as the year 1802 ; when, though a very young man, 
 he was the first person who really examined and 
 brought into notice many of those curious Druidical 
 antiquities in which it abounds. He spoke of them 
 in various quarters ; and some persons were induced, 
 by what he said, cursorily to explore them. Of 
 these a few, now and then, published some account, 
 and though not unfrequently availing themselves of 
 Mr. Bray's information, I do not know, excepting in 
 one instance, that any person ever did him the jus- 
 tice to acknowledge the obligation, or even to men- 
 tion his name as ha\dng been the first to lead the 
 Avay to an investigation of what was still to be found 
 on the moor : — 
 
 EXTRACT FROM THE JOURNAL. 
 
 " September 20th, 1802. Crockerntor, or Par- 
 liament-rock, is situated on ]3artmoor, near the turn- 
 pike-road leading from Moreton to Tavistock, at the 
 distance of about eleven miles from the former, and 
 nine from the latter. Prince, in his ' Worthies of
 
 VII.] PARLIAMENT-ROCK. 115 
 
 Devon/ p. 168, in Ids account of the family of 
 Crocker, after informing us that Crockernwell re- 
 ceived its name from them, says — ' There is another 
 famous place in this province, which seem.s to derive 
 its name also from this family, and that is Crockern- 
 tor, standing in the forest of Dartmoor, where the 
 parliament is wont to be held for Stannary causes ; 
 unto which the four principal stannary towns, Tavi- 
 stock, Plimton, Ashbui'ton, and Chagford, send each 
 twenty-four burgesses, who are summoned thither 
 when the lord warden of the Stannaries sees oc- 
 casion : where they enact statutes, laws, and ordi- 
 nances, which, ratified by the lord \v^arden aforesaid, 
 are in full force in all matters between tinner and 
 tinner, life and limb excepted. This memorable 
 place is only a great rock of moorstone, out of which 
 a table and seats are hewn, open to all the weather, 
 storms and tempests, having neither house nor 
 refuge near it, by divers miles. The borough of 
 Tavestock is said to be the nearest, and yet that is 
 distant ten miles off.' 
 
 " I am not inclined to agree with Prince abovit 
 the origin of the name of this rock, nor, from the 
 present appearance of it, do I think his a correct 
 description. The first thing that struck me was a 
 rock, with a fissure in the middle, Avith one half of it 
 split, either by art or nature, into four pretty regular 
 steps, each about a foot and a half high and two feet 
 broad.* Whether these were used as seats of emi- 
 
 * Crockerntor is not entirely granite, it is partly, I believe, of trap 
 formation. The following very curious passage from ' Clark's Travels,' 
 vol. iv., will be found most interesting here: — '■ Along this route, par- 
 ticularly between Cana and Turan, we observed basaltic phenomena ; 
 the extremities of columns, prismatically formed, penetrated the sur-
 
 116 
 
 PARLTAMENT-ROCK. 
 
 [let. 
 
 nence at the assembly of the tinners, I cannot pre- 
 tend to say. 
 
 " Before this mass, towards the north, is a short 
 ledge of stones evidently piled up by art, which 
 mio-ht have been a continued bench. On ascend- 
 ing higher, I arrived at a flat area, in which, 
 though almost cove?red with rushes, 1 could plainly 
 trace out four lines of stones forming an oblong 
 scjuare, twenty feet in length and six in breadth, 
 pointing nearly east and west. The entrance seems 
 to have been at the north-west corner. At the 
 north side, four feet distant, is another imperfect 
 
 face of the soil, so as to render our journey rough and unpleasant. 
 These marks of regular or of irregular crystallization generally denote 
 the vicinity of a bed of water lying beneath their level. The traveller, 
 passhig liver a series of successive plains, resembling, in tlieir gra- 
 dation, the order of a staircase, observes, as he descends to the 
 inferior stralum upon which the water rests, that where roclis are dis- 
 closed, the appearance of crystallization has taken place ; and tlien the 
 prismatic configuration is vulgarly denominated basaltic. \Vhen this 
 series of depressed siuTaces occurs very frec^uently, and the prismatic 
 form is very evident, the Swedes, from the resemblance such rocks 
 have to an artificial flight of steps, call them trap ; a word signifjnng, 
 in their language, a staircase. In this state science remains at pre- 
 sent concerning an appearance in natiu-e which exhibits nothing 
 more than the com.mon process of cri/stallization, upou a larger scale 
 than has hitherto excited attention."" — p. I'Jl,
 
 VII.] TIN TRAFFIC. 117 
 
 line, and ten feet on cither side is a straight natural 
 buttress of rock. Possibly the table might have 
 stood in the centre of this area, and these lines may 
 be vestiges of the seats around it. I can hardly 
 suppose the stone was so large as to rest on these as 
 its foundation, though there are no stones in the 
 middle that might have answered that purpose. 
 Whilst the Lord Warden and Stannators presided 
 at this table, probably the rest of the assembly filled 
 up the remainder of the area, or climbed the rocks 
 on each side. 
 
 " As an instance of the powers of the Stannary 
 Court, I have been informed that a member of the 
 House of Commons having spoken in it of the 
 Stannaries in a manner that displeased the Lord 
 Warden, as soon as the offending member came 
 within the jurisdiction of his court, he immediately 
 issued his precept, arrested him, and kept him in 
 prison on bread and water till he had acknowledged 
 his error and begged pardon for his transgression. 
 
 " Tin, on being melted, is put into moulds, holding 
 generally somewhat above three hundred weight 
 (then denominated block-tin), where it is marked, as 
 the smelters choose, with their house-mark [that 
 brought to Tavistock bears, I have generally ob- 
 served, an Agnus Dei, or lamb holding a pennon] 
 by laying brass or iron stamps in the face of the 
 blocks while the tin is in a fluid state, and cool 
 enough to sustain the stamping iron. When the 
 tin is brought to be coined, the assay-master's de- 
 puty assays it by cutting off with a chisel and 
 hammer a piece of one of the lower corners of the 
 block, about a pound weight, partly by cutting and 
 partly by breaking, in order to prove the roughness
 
 118 judge's chair. [let. 
 
 [query toug'hncss ?] and firmness of the metal. If 
 it is a pure good tin, the face of the block is stamped 
 with the duchy seal, which stamp is a permit for the 
 owner to sell, and, at the same time, an assurance 
 that the tin so marked has been examined and found 
 merchantable. The stamping of this impression by 
 a hammer is coining the tin, and the man who does 
 it is called the hammer-man. The duchy sealr is 
 argent, a lion rampant, gules, crowned, or with a 
 border garnished with bezants." See Rees' Ency. 
 
 The punishment for him who, in the days of old, 
 brought bad tin to the market, was to have a certain 
 quantity of it poured dov/n his throat in a melted state. 
 
 Tin was the staple article of commerce with the 
 Phoenicians, who used it in their celebrated dye of 
 Tjrian purple, it being the only absorbent then 
 known. This they procured from the Island of 
 Britain. Its high value made the preservation of 
 its purit}" a thing of the utmost consequence ; any 
 adulteration of the metal, therefore, was punished 
 with barbarous severity. The Greeks were desirous 
 of discovering the secret whence the Phoenicians 
 derived their tin, and tracked one of their vessels 
 accordingly. But the master of her steered his 
 galley on shore, in the utmost peril of shipvn-eck, to 
 avoid detection; and he was rewarded, it is said, by 
 the State for having preserved the secret of so 
 valued an article of national commerce. 
 
 The next extract I here send you is from Mr. 
 Bray's Journal of June 7th, 1831. 
 
 " My wife, her nephew, and myself, set out from 
 Bairdown, between twelve and one o'clock, for 
 Crockcrntor. In addition to the wish she had lono- 
 felt of seeing it, her curiosity was not a little raised
 
 VII.] PARLIAMENT-ROCK. 119 
 
 by my tenant's telling her that he could show her 
 the Judges Chair. And I confess that my own was 
 somewhat excited to find out whether liis traditionary 
 information corresponded with my own conjectures, 
 made many years ago, as to this seat of the president 
 of the Stannators. He took us to the rock (situated 
 somewhat below the summit on the south side of the 
 Tor) which bears the appearance of rude steps, the 
 highest of which he supposed to be the seat. It 
 seems to be but little, if at all, assisted by art, 
 unless it Avere by clearing away a few rocks or stones. 
 Below it is an oblong area, in which was the table, 
 whilst around it (so says tradition) sat the court of 
 Stannators : whence it is also known by the name of 
 Parliament-rock. This stone, I had been informed, 
 was removed bv the late Judo;c BuUer to Prince 
 Hall; but my tenant told me that it was dravrn by 
 twelve yoke of oxen to Dennabridge, now occupied 
 by farmer Tucket, on the Ashburton road, about ten 
 miles from TaA^istock. It is now used, he said, as a 
 shoot-trough, in which they wash potatoes, &c. 
 
 " From this, as far as I can comprehend his mean- 
 ing, I should conceive that it serves the purpose of 
 a lip. or embouchure, to some little aqueduct that 
 conveys the water into the farmer's yard. The Tor 
 itself is of no great height, and is now much lower 
 than it was, by large quantities of stone having been 
 removed from its summit for erecting enclosures and 
 other purposes. It could not be chosen, therefore, 
 for its supereminent or imposing altitude; though 
 possibly it might be so for its centrical situation; 
 but I am disposed to think that it was thus honoured 
 from being used as a judicial court from time imme- 
 morial. My reasons I shall mention hereafter. I
 
 120 LONGFORD TOR. [lET. 
 
 shall remark here, however, that it is the first tor of 
 any consequence that presents itself on the east side 
 of the Dart, upon the ridge that immediately over- 
 hangs its source. 
 
 " We then proceeded along this ridge to Little 
 Longaford, or Longford Tor. This, in Greenwood's 
 map, which is defective enough in regard to names, 
 is thus distiniruished from a larsfer one ; whilst the 
 tors that follow Crocherntor in succession are there 
 called Littlehee tor, Lonfj tor, Hio-her- white tor, 
 and Lower-white tor. White tor. or Whitentor, as 
 my tenant pronounced it, we did not visit ; and as I 
 have some doubts about the real names of the tors, 
 I shall only say that the first (a small one) that we 
 approached had something in its appearance which 
 so much reminded me of Pewtor, that I asked the 
 oTuide if there were anv basins in it : at first he re- 
 plied in the negative, but afterwards said he thought 
 he had once observed a basin on one of these tors. 
 This was enouo-h to ensure a search, and v.e were 
 not long in finding one. It was in the shape of a 
 rude oval, terminating in a . point or lip, about 
 twenty inches long, eighteen wide, and six deep. A 
 square aperture among the rocks here, somewhat 
 like a window, suggested the idea of its possibly 
 having been used as a tolmcn, through which 
 children, and sometimes, I believe, grown people, 
 were drawn to cure them of certain diseases. The 
 second tor was much less, but large enough to afford 
 Mrs. Bray, who felt fatigued, sufficient shelter from 
 the sun and wind whilst we proceeded; and there 
 we left her busied with her sketch-book. 
 
 "• Between this and the great tor we found several 
 pools ofAvater, though it was the highest part of the
 
 VII.] WHITEN TOR. 121 
 
 rido-c, and thouo-li the season had been so free from 
 ram (a ch'cumstancc not very common in Devon- 
 shire) as not only to render the swamps of Dartmoor 
 passable, but almost to dry np the rivers. Longford 
 Tor is more conical than most of the eminences of the 
 forest, having very much the appearance of the keep 
 of a castle. Unlike also the generality of tors, which 
 mostly consist of bare blocks of granite, it has a great 
 deal of soil covered with turf, and only interspersed 
 with masses of rock, whilst the summit itself is 
 crowned with verdure. Towards the north is White 
 or Whiten Tor: for the Devonians soften, or, as some 
 may think, harden, words by the introduction of a 
 consonant, l)ut more frequently of a vowel ; and they 
 are laughed at for saying Black- a-brook instead of 
 Blackbrook, though we perceive nothing objection- 
 able in Black-a-moor, which is precisely upon the 
 same principle of euphony. On tliis tor, some years 
 ago, were found some silver coins, and, 1 believe, 
 human hair. And on Stennen hill, Avhich lies below 
 it, if I may trust my informant, are many barrows, in 
 one of which was supposed to have been found ' a 
 pot of money,' whilst two men of the name of Nor- 
 rich and Clay were employed in taking stones from 
 it. The former, it is said, discovered it without com- 
 municating it to his companion, but sent him to 
 fetch a ' bar-ire,' or crow-bar, whilst he availed 
 himself of the opportunity to appropriate the con- 
 tents to himself. The inference seems principally 
 to be drawn from the circumstance that he after- 
 wards was known to lend considerable sums of 
 money at interest. 
 
 '• The greatest extent of view from Longford Tor is 
 towards the east and south-cast. In that dhection, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 LONGORD TOR, ETC. [lE'T. 
 
 as far as I could collect, you see Staple Tor (so that 
 there seems to he two of this name on the moor). High, 
 or Haytor, Bagtor, Hazeltor, &c. On Haytor (which 
 is commonly called Haytor rocks), though at so great 
 a distance, is \asihle a kind of white land or belt 
 about its basOj made bv the removal of o;ranite : so 
 that we can more easily account for it than those of 
 Jiipiter. Of the tors that lie towards the south 
 and south-west, Hessory is certainly higher than 
 Longford (which my guide at first doubted), as also 
 Mistor. Nearer are Bair-down and Sidford tors. 
 Eair-dovrn-man (which, however^, we could not see) 
 is a single stone erect, about ten feet high. To 
 these succeeded, towards the north. Crow, or Crough- 
 tor, and Little Crowtor. I learnt from m}* guide 
 that at a place called Gidley there are circles much 
 larger and far more numerous than near Mcrrivale. 
 There are also two parallel lines about three feet 
 apart, which stretch to a considerable distance. In 
 order to see them, you must go to Newhouse, about 
 twelve or thirteen miles on the Moreton road from 
 Tavistock, and there turn oif into the moor for about 
 four or five miles. I also learnt that near the rabbit 
 warren there is something that goes by the name of 
 the King's Oven. 
 
 " We again on this day visited Wissman, Wistman, 
 or Welshman's Wood (concerning the etymology of 
 v;hich I have some remarks in my former joapers) : it 
 is about half a mile in extent, and consists princi- 
 pally of oaks, but is here and there interspersed with 
 what is called in Devonshire the quick-beam or 
 moimtain-ash. I conceive it to have been the wood 
 of the Wise-men, and Bair-down, on the oppo- 
 site side, the Hill of Bards. On the latter were
 
 VII.] CROCKERN TOR. 123 
 
 formerly many circles, which, I am sorry to say, were 
 destroyed by the persons employed by my father in 
 malvins: his enclosures. Would they have a'iven 
 themselves but a little more trouble the}' might have 
 found a sufficient supply ainong those stones or roclcs 
 which are thickl}- scattered on a spot opposite the 
 wood, and to which they give the name of the Grey 
 Wethers. I think that the same name has been 
 given to some stones at Abury, with which is sup- 
 posed to be erected Stonehenge. If so, the coin- 
 cidence is not a little remarkable. They possibly 
 may be so called from resembling at a distance a 
 flock of sheep. The resemblance indeed had struck 
 me before I heard the name. 
 
 "I shall now state the reasons wh)' I think Crocks 
 ern Tor was chosen by the miners as the chief station 
 for holding their Stannary Courts. It is but little 
 more than a mile from what I venture to consider as 
 the Hill of Bards and the Wood of Wisemen, or 
 Druids. On, or near each of these are numerous 
 circles, which, Avhether they were appropriated to 
 domestic or religious purposes (most probably to 
 both), clearly indicate that it must have been a con- 
 siderable station. This was not only supplied with 
 water from the river, but two or three springs arise 
 from the rocks at the bottom of the wood itself. 
 Well sheltered and well watered (for not only had 
 they trees to screen them from the storm, but they 
 had also a comparatively snug valley, open onl}^ to 
 the south), it is no wonder that the aborigines .here 
 fixed their habitation. The circles, the wood, the 
 existing names, all seem to lead to the supposition 
 tliat some of the high places in their immediate 
 neighbourhood were originally those of superstition 
 
 g2
 
 124 GRIMSPOUND. [let. 
 
 and judicature, ■where priest, judge, and governor 
 were generally combined. The tor that we may 
 thus imagine was appropriated by the ancient Bri- 
 tons, might afterwards (from traditionary veneration 
 for the spot) be used by the Saxons for assembling 
 together their Wittenagemot, or meeting of Wise- 
 men, and lastly, for a similar reason, by the miners 
 for their Stannary Coiu-ts." 
 
 Before I give you Mr Bray's account of Denna- 
 bridge Povmd, which will be the next extract from 
 his Journal, it may not be amiss to observe that 
 there is on Dartmoor another remarkable vestige, 
 and one better known, of like antiquity, called 
 Grimspound. Like that of Dcnnabridge, this truly 
 Cyclopean work is an enclosure, consisting of moor 
 stone blocks, piled into a vast circular Avail, extend- 
 ing roiuid an area of nearly four acres of ground. 
 Grimspound has two entrances, and a spring of 
 water is found within, where the ruins of the stone- 
 rins: huts are so nvmierous as to suggest the idea of 
 its having been a British town. It is well known that 
 the foundations of all these primitive dwellings were 
 of stone, though their superstructure, according to 
 Diodorus and Strabo, was of wood. For they "live," 
 says the former, "in miserable habitations, which are 
 constructed of wood and covered with straw." And, 
 when speaking of the Gauls, the latter says, " they 
 make their dwellings of wood in the form of a circle, 
 with lofty tapering roofs." 
 
 In some instances it is not improbable that the 
 larger stone circles are vestiges of enclosures made 
 for the protection of cattle. The Danmonii were 
 celebrated for their flocks and herds : and the wolves, 
 the wild cats, and the foxes, with which this country
 
 VII.] STONE CIRCLES. 125 
 
 once abounded, must have rendered such protection 
 highly necessary for their preservation. I have often 
 remarked on Dartmoor two or three small hut-rings, 
 and near them a larger circle of stones ; the latter I 
 have always fancied to have been the shelter of the 
 flocks, and the former the dv»ellings of their owners. 
 There is nothing perhaps very improbable in this 
 conjecture : since many tribes of the ancient Britons 
 were, like the Arabs, a wandering and a pastoral 
 people ; and it is also worthy observation, that to this 
 day the Devonians never fold their sheep ; but. on 
 Dartmoor in particular, still keep them within an 
 enclosure of stone walls set up rudel}- together with- 
 out cement. Where extensive stone circles are found 
 near what may be called a cursus, or via sacra (of 
 which I shall have much to say hereafter), or near 
 cromlechs and decaying altars, we may fairly con- 
 clude such to have been erected not as the habita- 
 tions of individuals, but as temples sacred to those 
 Gods whose worship would have been considered as 
 profaned within any covered place, and whose only 
 appropriate canopy was held to be the Heavens in 
 which they made their dwelling. 
 
 The circles within Grimspound are different from 
 these ; and that this vast enclosure (as well as Den- 
 nabridge Pound) was really a British town, seems to 
 be svipported by the accounts given of such struc- 
 tures by Strabo and Caesar. The latter describes 
 them as being surrounded by a mound or ditch for 
 the security of the inhabitants and their cattle. And 
 Strabo says, "When they have enclosed a very large 
 circuit with felled trees, they build within it houses 
 for themselves and hovels for their cattle."* 
 
 * "The universality of Celtic manners, at a very remote period, is 
 proved by the existence of conical thatched houses, as among the
 
 126 ENCLOSURES OF GRANITE. [LET 
 
 That the people of Dartmoor should prefer gra- 
 nite to felled trees for such an enclosure is nothino' 
 wonderful, inasmuch as the moor abounds Avith it : 
 in fact it must have been then, the same as in the 
 present day, a much easier task to have piled to- 
 gether the blocks and pieces of stone, strev.ed all 
 around them, than to have felled trees for the pur- 
 pose of forming their walls ; and how much greater 
 was the security afforded by a granite fence, to one 
 of mere timber ! In other parts of Britain, such as 
 Ca?sar saw and described, rock or stone was not so 
 easily or so plentifully to be fovmd. The Britons, 
 therefore, very naturally availed themselves of what 
 the country wovild most readily afford ; and the wild 
 and vast forests supplied materials for their pubhc 
 Avails as Avell as theu- private dwellings. 
 
 Stones, hoAvever, it is probable, Avere in all places 
 considered as indispensable in the erection of those 
 structures sacred to the rites of religion ; and hence 
 is it that Ave often see such enormous masses piled 
 on places Avhere it seem^s little less than miraculous 
 to find them : for no stones of a similar nature 
 being seen in their immediate neighbourhood, gives 
 rise to the belief that they must have found their 
 present stations by being moA^ed from a distance, and 
 not unfrequently to the summits of the loftiest hiUs 
 and mountain's : such, for instance, is that most extra- 
 ordinary cromlech called Arthur's Stone on the 
 eminence of CeA'yn Bryn in South Wales *. That 
 riiost of these structures AA^ere of a sacred nature can- 
 Britons, and rude stone obelisks, adjacent tumuli, and Druidical 
 circles, in Morocco." — Genlkmen's Magazine, July, 1831. Dr. Clarke, 
 the celebrated traveller, gives a very interesting account of vestiges 
 similar to those found on Dartmoor in Sweden and other northern 
 counties. See the ninth volume of his Travels. 
 
 * An account of this ancient British monument was laid before the.
 
 Vll.] DAMNONIl AND THEIR CATTLE. 127 
 
 not well be doubted. No impulse either on the 
 public or the private mind is so strong as that dic- 
 tated by a feeling of religion, even when it is mis- 
 directed : no labours, therefore, have ever equalled 
 those of man when he toils, in peace or in war, for 
 the honour or the preservation of his altars. 
 '• That Grimspound and Dennabridge sheltered 
 both the Britons and their cattle seems the more 
 probable when we recollect the general customs of 
 that people, and of the Damnonii in particular; 
 since, in every way, their flocks must have been to 
 them of the highest value. The}' were allowed to 
 be the most excellent in Britain ; the constant ver- 
 dure of this county no doubt rendered them such. 
 They were not merely useful at home, but an article 
 of commerce abroad ; and Csesar says, that " the 
 Britons in the interior parts of the country were 
 clothed in skins." It is not improbable, therefore, 
 tliat the Damnonii found their account in the wool 
 and skins of those flocks for -which they were so 
 famed, as a convenient clothing for their neighbours. 
 Their tin trafiic v/ith the Phoenicians had early 
 initiated them into a knowledge of the advantages 
 and benefits of commerce. And as I have long 
 taken a pleasure in busying myself to trace out, in 
 connexion with ancient times, whatever may be 
 foimd in nature or in art on Dartmoor, I amuse, 
 myself with fancying that I have discovered an 
 allusion in Pliny to the beautiful and scarlet moss 
 still found on the moor, which, not many years ago, 
 was used as a dye for cloth. Indeed, it is not im- 
 probable that, as such, it became an article of com- 
 merce even in the days of the ancient Britons ; for 
 
 Society of Antiquaries by my brother, Alfred J. Kempe. It may be 
 found in the twenty-third volume of the Aichaiologia.
 
 128 BRITISH DYES. [lET, 
 
 Pliny says, Avhcn speaking of British dyes, that they 
 Avere enriched by *' wonderful discoveries, and that 
 their piirpk\s and scarlets were produced only by 
 certain wild herbs." 
 
 How sadly have I rambled in these pages ! It is 
 a good thing that in letters there is no sin in being 
 dcsidtory, or how often should I have offended ! 
 But letters are something like the variations of an 
 air of music; you may run from major to minor, and 
 through a thousand changes, so long as you fall into 
 the subject at last, and bring back the ear to the 
 right key at the close. Once more, therefore, I fall 
 back on Dennabridge Pound, and here follows the 
 extract from Mr. Bray''s journal : — 
 
 " On the 25th of July, 1831, I set out in search 
 of two objects on the moor ; namely, the table, said 
 to have been removed from Crockern Tor, and Den- 
 nabridge Pound, which (like all, or most others on 
 the moor) I had understood Avas on the site of a 
 Celtic circle. On going up the hill beyond Merri- 
 vale bridge, some horses and colts, almost wild, that 
 were in an inclosure near the road, came galloping 
 towards us, and, either from curiosity or the instinc- 
 tive feeling of sociability, kept parallel with the 
 carriage as far as their limits would allow. One of 
 them was of a light sorrel colour ; whilst its mane, 
 which was almost white, not only formed a line con- 
 trast, but added considerably to the picturesque 
 effect of the whole by its natural clusters waving 
 and floating, now in the air, now adown its neck, 
 and now over its forehead, between its eyes and 
 cars. My attention, perhaps, was the more directed 
 to it, from having previously asked my servant who 
 drove us, why the manes of my ponies were turned 
 in opposite directions, as 1 thought (though I pos-
 
 VII.] EXTRACT FROM bray's JOURNAL. 12^ 
 
 sibly may be mistaken) that it was one, among 
 many other cavahy regulations, that the mane of a 
 horse shoukl turn differently from that of a marc. He 
 seemed to recognise the rule by his reply, which 
 was, that he could not get the mane of one of them 
 to lie on the proper side. I could not help thinking 
 that we deformed our horses by cropping their 
 manes and tails, besides cruelly depriving them of 
 their natural defence against flies. And enthusias- 
 tically as I admire the taste of the Greeks, par- 
 ticularly in sculpture, I cannot but confess that^ if 
 I ma}^ be allowed to consult my own eyes for a 
 standard, they seem to have violated true taste and 
 rejected a rich embellishment, in representing, as 
 on the Elgin marbles in the British Museum, all 
 their horses with hogged manes. Having thus run 
 from painting to sculpture, and from England to 
 Greece, though it may still, perhaps, be traced to 
 association of ideas, I must be allowed to return to 
 those connected with our native soil, and somewhat, 
 perliaps, with the objects of our present pursuit 
 (which may account also, accumulatively, if more 
 apologies be wanting, for these digressions), by 
 stating that I had but a little before remarked, en 
 badinant, to my wife, that she might fancy herself 
 Boadicca hastening in her war-chariot to meet the 
 Druids in their enchanted circles. 
 
 " Near a bridge, over which we had passed, I ob- 
 served, on the right of the road, a circle, seven 
 paces in diameter, witli a raised bank around, and 
 liollow in the centre. Having come about ten miles 
 from Tavistock, Avhich I had understood was the 
 distance of Dennabridgc Pound, I entered a cottage 
 neaij to make inquiries for the object of our pur- 
 
 g5
 
 130 DENNABRIDGE. [lET. 
 
 suit, but could gain little or no information, finding 
 only a girl at home who had not long resided there. 
 I had observed on the map that- there was not only 
 Dennabridge Pound, but also a place called Denna- 
 bridg-e. which I learnt from this o:irl was about a 
 quarter of a mile distant. Seeing nothing at the 
 former place that at all corresponded with the object 
 of mv search, I resolved on proceeding to the latter ; 
 not A^ithout hopes that I shoidd meet with some 
 kind of primitive bridge, consisting perhaps of im- 
 mense flat stones,, supported on rough piers, which 
 was the ordinary construction of ou.r ancient British 
 bridges. 
 
 • " Seeing a person whom I considered one of the 
 natives near a cottage, I pointed to a lane that 
 seemed to lead towards the river, and asked if it was 
 the wav to Dennabridge. The answer I received 
 was, ' This, Sir, is Dennabridge.' My informant 
 seemed as much surprised at my question, as I was 
 at his reply, and we both smiled, though probably 
 for different reasons. No signs of one being \"isible, 
 I inquired (and I think naturally so) where was the 
 bridge that gave name to the place ? ' He said that 
 he knew not why it was so called, but that there was 
 no bridffc near it. Obser\"ino-. hovrever, at some 
 distance down the river, Avhat seemed not unhke the 
 piers of one, of which the incumbent stones or arches 
 might liave fallen, I asked if a bridge had ever stood 
 there. He believed not, but said that they were 
 rocks ; situated, however, so near each other, that it 
 was the way by which persons usually crossed the 
 river. Understanding that the spot was difficidt of 
 access, particularly for a lady, we did not go to it ; 
 but I am rather disposed to think that the place is
 
 Vll.] • JUDGE BULLER's STONE. . 131 
 
 not so called, as was lucus a non lucendo, but that 
 these rocks were considered as a bridge, or at least 
 quasi a bridge. And perhaps it deserved this name 
 as much as that which is thus mentioned bj' ]Milton 
 in his description of Satan's jom-ney to the earth. 
 
 ' Sin and Death amain, 
 Following Ills track, such was the will of Heaven, 
 Paved alter him a broad and beaten way 
 Over the dark abyss, whtse boiling gulf 
 Tamely endured a bridge of wond'rous length. 
 From Hell continued, reaching the utmost orb 
 Of this frail world.' 
 
 " On further conversation \\ith this man, I learnt 
 that he lived at Dennabridge Pound, v.diere there 
 was no stone of the kind I inquired for, but that at 
 Dennabridge itself, hard by, was a large stone that 
 possibl}' might be the one in question. I asked if 
 he had ever heard that it had been brought thither 
 by the late Judge Buller. He said that it must 
 have been placed there long before the judge's timej 
 that he knew the judge well, and had lived in 
 that neighbourhood forty years or more. Perhaps I 
 might have obtained the information I wanted long- 
 before, had I asked for what I was told to ask; 
 namely, for a stone that was placed over a shoot. 
 But, absurdly, I confess, I have always had an ob- 
 jection to the word ; because, in one sense at least, 
 it must be admitted to be a vulgarism even by pro- 
 vincialists themselves. The lower classes in Devon- 
 shire, almost invariably, say shoot the door, instead 
 of shut the door. And when it is used by them to 
 express a water-pipe, or the mouth of any channel 
 from which is precipitated a stream of water, I have 
 hitherto connected it with that vulgarity which arises 
 from the above abuse of the word. But if we write
 
 132 OPINIONS ABOUT THE STONE. [lET. 
 
 it:, as perhaps avc ought, shute, from the French chute, 
 which signifies /a//, we have an origin for it that may 
 by some, perliaps, be considered the very reverse of 
 I'ulgar, and have, at the same time, a definite and 
 appropriate expression for wliat, otherwise, without 
 a periphrasis, coukl hardly be made intelligible. 
 
 '' At the entrance of the farm-yard adjoining, is, I 
 doubt not, the stone 1 had gone so far in search of, 
 thoui^h I could not 2;ain sach satisfactorv informa- 
 tion as I anticipated. The farmer who lives on the 
 spot exonerates the Judge, as did my first informant, 
 from having connnitted the spoliation with which ho 
 has been charged. He says that it has been there, 
 to his own knowledge, for fifty years ; and that he 
 has heard it was brous-ht from Crochern Tor about 
 cightv years ago. He further says that it was re- 
 moved by the reeve of the manor. His wife, who 
 is the daughter of this reeve (or his successor, I do 
 not remember which), says that she, also, always 
 heard that it had been brought from Crockern Tor, 
 but she docs not think that it could have been the 
 table, as she remembers that her father used to take 
 persons to the spot as a guide, and show them the 
 table, chair, and other objects of curiosity on the 
 tor. I thought I could perceive that the reeve of 
 the manor Avas at any rate considered a great per- 
 sonage, and not the less so, perhaps, by being the 
 Cicerone, or guide to the curiosities of the forest ; 
 for this is the word by which the inhabitants are 
 fond of dcsiji-natino- the treeless moor. I do not 
 know whether the reeve, with the spirit of an anti- 
 quary, had any veneration for a cromlech, and there- 
 fore wished to imitate one ; but, if such were his 
 intention, he succeeded not badly : for the stone
 
 VII.] 
 
 DEKNABRIDGE POUND. 
 
 133 
 
 (which is eight feet long by nearly six wide, and from 
 four to six inches thick) is placed, as was the quoit 
 in such British structures, as a cover, raised upon 
 three rude walls, about six feet high, over a trough, 
 into which, by a shufe, runs a stream of water. And 
 
 probably the idea that the removal of this stone 
 was by some one in authority, may have given rise to 
 the report, that such person could be no less than 
 Judge Buller, who possibly might be supposed to 
 give sentence for such transportation (far enough 
 certainly, but not beyond sea), in his judicial ca- 
 pacity : to Avhich, perhaps, some happy confusion 
 between him and the judge or president who sat in 
 the Stannary Court may have contributed. Na3% 
 possibly the reeve or steward may have considered 
 himself to be the legal representative of the latter, 
 and to have removed it to his own residence. We 
 thence returned to Dennabridge Pound. On clam- 
 bering over the gate, I was surprised to find close 
 to it a rude stone scat. Had I any doubt before 
 that the pound was erected on the base of an ancient
 
 134 
 
 DRiriDICAL STONE CHAIR. 
 
 [let. 
 
 Britisli, or rather Celtic circle, I could not entertain 
 it now : for I have not the slightest doubt of the 
 high antiquity of this massy chair. It is not im- 
 probable that it suggested the idea of the structure 
 over the trough. And it is fortunate that the reeve 
 had not recourse to this chair, instead of the stan- 
 nary table, for the stone he wanted. It certainly 
 was handier; but possibly it would have deprived 
 him of showing his authority and station by occa- 
 sionally sitting there himself But I am fully con- 
 vinced that it was originally designed for a much 
 greater personage ; no less perhaps than an Arch- 
 Druid, or the President of some court of judicature. 
 Two Lipright stones, about six feet high, serve as 
 sides or elbows. These support another, eight feet 
 long, that forms the covering overhead. The latter, 
 being-in a sloping direction, to g-ivc greater shelter 
 both from vnnd and rain, extends to the back, which 
 consists also of a single stone. In front of it are 
 two others, that supply the immediate seat, whilst a 
 kind of step may be considered as the foot-stool.
 
 VII.] Aft OAK IMBEDDED IN A BOG, 135 
 
 " The enclosure, pound, or circle, is about 4G0 paces 
 in circumference on the inside. The wall of it has a 
 double facing, the external part being a little higher 
 than the inner. Thoug-h far beyond the memory of 
 man, this superstructure is unquestionably modern, 
 when compared Avith the base or foundation, which is 
 ruder, and of laro;cr stones. There are a few rocks 
 scattered about in the area. I thought, however, 
 that I could distino-uish the vestio-e of a small circle 
 near the centre, through which passed a diametrical 
 line to the circimiference, but somewhat bent in its 
 southern direction tov,ards the chair. 
 
 " On reaching E air-down, I was told by my tenant 
 Hannaford, that there could be no doubt but I had 
 seen the right stone, and that he believed the report 
 of its being removed by Judge BuUer was wholly 
 without foundation. On referrino; afterwards to 
 Mr. Burt's notes to Carrington's poem on Dartmoor, 
 I find he treats it as ' a calumny.' I believe that 
 by our diiferent conversations Avith Hannaford we 
 have made him a bit of an antiquary, and I was no' 
 less surprised than delighted when he informed mc 
 that, only a few days before, he had brought home 
 an oak that he had discovered in a bog, at a place 
 called Broad-hole, on Bair-down. I have heard Sir 
 Thomas Tyrwhitt say that he had found alders and 
 willows in a bog near Tor Royal ; but I do not re- 
 member to have heard of any oak being so found, 
 at least of such dimensions. The tree thus dis-. 
 covered, which consists of the trunk, part of the root, 
 and also of a branch, is ten feet long, and, at its 
 lower extremity, is nearly five feet in girth. The 
 whole of the trunk is perfectly sound, but not alto- 
 gether so dark or solid as I should have expected :
 
 13& INSCRIPTIONS ON THE ROCKS. [lET. 
 
 for gcncrall}^ I believe, and particularly when it has 
 l)ecn deposited in a bog. it is as hard and as dark as 
 ebonv. A branch of it had for some time been 
 visible in the bank of the river Cowsick, and this 
 induced Hannaford to examine it, and finally to 
 exhumate it from the depth of eight feet. It is not 
 improbable that this is a vestige of the antediluvian 
 forest of the moor. Distant from Wistman's Wood 
 about two miles, and by the side of another river, it 
 could never have formed part of it ; indeed it is pro- 
 bably larger than any there : and we have no ac- 
 count for ao^es of anv other oaks existins: on the 
 whole of this extensive desert. A da}- or two after 
 lie brought it to Tavistock, and it is nov/ in my pos- 
 session. 
 
 " I learnt from him that some years since some 
 oak bowls* were found in a bog, by a person called 
 John Ash, between the Ashburton and ]\Ioreton 
 roads. 
 
 "' On crossing the bridge which was erected by my 
 father over the Cowsick. Mrs. Bray expressed a wish 
 that I would point out to her some of my inscrip- 
 tions on the rocks below, which, from some strange 
 chcumstance or other, she had never seen ; and even 
 now I thought that, without much search, we should 
 not have found them ; not recollecting, after so long 
 a period, where I had placed them. But, on looking 
 
 * Bowls formed of oak were used by the ancient Britons. Jlentiou 
 is made of them in Ossian : and in the Cad Godden, or the Battle of 
 the Trees, by Taliesin, the followinj^ passage occurs: — "I have 
 been a spotted adder on the mount" (alluding to the serpent's egg) ; 
 " I have been a viper in the lake. I have been stars among the 
 supreme chiefs ; I have been the weigher of the falling drops"' (the 
 water in the rock basins), " drest in my priest's robe, and furnished 
 with my bowl,"
 
 VII. 1 INSCRIPTIONS ON THE ROCKS. 137 
 
 J 
 
 over the parapet, she observed, on oiie of the rocks 
 beneath, the name of her favourite Shakspeare. 
 Perhaps, under other cu'cumstances, it might have 
 altog-etlier escaped notice ; but the sun was at that 
 instant in such a direction as to assist her in de- 
 cyphering it, as it did some of our EngHsh officers 
 in Egj-pt, who thus were able to interpret the in- 
 scription on Pompey's Pillar, which the Frencli 
 spavants had so long attempted in vain. Many an 
 officer (for a large body of troops had guarded, for 
 years, the French prison on the moor) no doubt had 
 visited Bair-down, and probably fished on the river, 
 and yet these inscriptions seem never to have at- 
 tracted their notice, nor, indeed, that of other per- 
 sons ; or, if they have, it has never reached my ears. 
 But I have long been taught to sympathise with 
 Virgil, when he exclaims — 
 
 * Rura mihi, et rigui placeant ia vallibus amnes, 
 Flumina amem sylvasq^ue iuglorius.' — Geo. 1. ii. 485. 
 
 " Had my name been so reno\med as ' virum vo- 
 litare per oras,' I doubt whether 1 should have 
 experienced greater pleasure than I felt when my 
 wife first discovered my inscription on the rock, and 
 expressed the feelings it excited in her. I question 
 whether, for the moment, she felt not as much en- 
 thusiasm as if she had been on the Rialto itself, 
 and there had been reminded of the spirit-stirring 
 scenes of our great dramatist in the ' Merchant of 
 Venice.' I have somewhere read, that a philosopher 
 having been ship\\Tecked on an island which he 
 fancied might be uninhabited, or, what perhaps was 
 worse, inhabited by savages, felt himself not only 
 perfectly at ease, but delighted at seeing a mathe-
 
 138 INSCRIPTIONS, ETC. [lET. VIK 
 
 niatical figure drawn upon the sand; because he 
 mstantly perceived that the island was not only the 
 abode of man, but of man in an advanced staw of 
 ci\ilization and refinement. It certainly was a better 
 omen than a footstep ; for the impression of a human 
 foot might have excited as much fear, if not surprise, 
 as that which startled Crusoe in his desert island. 
 Perhaps I fondly had anticipated that, long ere this, 
 on seeing these inscriptions, some kindred being 
 might have exclaimed, ' A poet has been here, or 
 one, at least, who had the feelings of a poet.' I 
 would have been content, however, to remain un- 
 knov\n still longer, thus to be noticed, as I was by 
 one so fully competent to appreciate those feehngs 
 which, no doubt, to most would have appearpd 
 ridiculous, if not altogether contemptible." 
 
 As, since the days of Sir Charles Grandison, it is 
 quite inadmissible for ladies to write to their friends 
 the fine things that arc said of them, I certainly 
 should have stopt short before I came to this com- 
 phment about mjself. But my husband, Avho was 
 pleased to pay it, insisting that, if I took anything 
 ft'om his Journal, I should take all or none, I had no 
 choice. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir, 
 And believe me ever most respectfully 
 and faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray.
 
 139 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 TO ROBKRT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Account of the remains of the great Cursus near Merri- 
 vale Bridge — Plan of it — Fallen Cromlech; barrow; obelisk; 
 larffe circle ; foundation of circular British huts — Processions in 
 
 " the Cursus in ancient times — Their chaiiot races, &c. — The Welsh 
 poem of Gododin; its great curiosity and interest as an historical 
 record — its mention of a similar Cursus at Stonehenge — Remarks 
 on Cromlechs — Various in their character, and uses, examples 
 given — Drewsteign-Tor, the finest Cromlech en Dartmoor — Crona- 
 lech near the Cursus of the Moor, probably a stone of sacrifice — 
 Barrows on Dartmoor opened in 1790; urns found in them con- 
 taining ashes, or the bones of human bodies, with coins and in- 
 struments of war — British monumental inscribed stones — Augury 
 of birds common with the D'uids — Great antiquity of the super- 
 stition — Remarks on the subject — Sacred springs and fountains — 
 The Cauldron of Cerid wen— Casting lots; twigs, branches, and herbs 
 used in sortilege — Water in rock basins, for what purposse col- 
 • lected — Rocking or Logan Stones still found on the Moor — their 
 uses — Ancient British bridges on Dartmoor described — Ancient 
 trackways and leets of Mines seen on the Moor — Gold and silver 
 found in Britain, mentioned by Tacitus — Silver found in Devon. 
 
 flcarage, Tavistock, j4prii lOlfi) \S32. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 We have on Dartmoor, at a short distance from 
 Mcrrivale hridg-e, and nearly four miles from Wist- 
 man's Wood, some very remarkable vestiges of the 
 Cursus, or Via Sacra, used for processions, chariot 
 races, &c., in the Druidical ceremonies. This Cursus 
 is about 36 paces in breadth, and 217 in length. It
 
 140 
 
 THE GREAT CURSUS, ETC., 
 
 [let. 
 
 
 
 x^' 
 
 ••.•'■ \» 
 
 ■"t, 
 
 o^:. 
 
 / 
 
 
 v 
 
 o 
 
 I 
 
 
 ^i 
 
 « 
 
 i 
 
 ^1 
 
 j: ^^1^ O 
 
 o 
 
 •© 
 
 jj/«p of the great Cttrsus, Circles, Sfc, near Merrivale-bridje, Dartmoor.
 
 Vlll.] NEAR MERRIVALE-BRIDGE. 141 
 
 is formed of pieces of graiiite that stand one, two, 
 or sometimes three feet above the ground in which 
 they are imbedded : a double hne of them appears 
 placed with great regularity on either side, as you 
 will sec in the drawing of the ground plan. A circle 
 in the middle of the cursus breaks the uniformity of 
 line in part of it. There are, near this extensive 
 range of stones, many remains of Druidical anti- 
 quity ; such as a fallen cromlech, a barrow, an obelisk, 
 a laro-e circle, and several foundations of the round 
 huts, or hovises of the Britons. A cursus of this 
 nature is found near Stonehenge ; Boulase, I believe, 
 mentions one at Classerniss in the Isle of Lewis, 
 another is seen in Anglesea, and we have this re- 
 markable vestige on Dartmoor. 
 
 Processions formed a distinguished part of the 
 ceremonies observed in Druidical festivals. Accord- 
 ing to Davies, the sacred ship of glass was borne 
 along the cursus with the utmost pomp on the day 
 of observing the mysteries of the Helio-arkite God. 
 The procession of Godo, the British Ceres, was no 
 less splendid : it took place in the evening, as that 
 of the solar deity did in the morning. And the 
 cursors at such moments must have presented scenes 
 like those exhibited by the abominable priests of 
 Baal, of whom we read in the Bible : for in the midst 
 of their wild dances, they cut and lacerated their 
 bodies in honour of her mystic rites. "Let the 
 thigh be pierced with blood," says Taliesin. And 
 Aneurin thus describes the ceremonies of the pro- 
 cession sacred to Hu, the British Bacchus. "In 
 honour of the mighty king of the plains, the king of 
 the open countenance, I saAV dark gore arising on 
 the stalks of plants, on the clasp of the chain, on the
 
 142 PROCESSIONS AND CHARIOT RACES [lET. 
 
 bunches (alluding to the flowers on the necks of the 
 oxen), on the king lumself (the God Hu*), on the 
 bush, on the spear. Ruddy was the sea-beach, Mdiilst 
 the circular revolution was performed by the attend- 
 ants of the white bands (the Druids) in graceful 
 extravagance." The bard thus continues : " The 
 assembled train were dancing after their manner, 
 and singing in cadence mth garlands on their 
 brows, "f 
 
 Chariot races, as well as the above-noticed proces- 
 sions, were also common vnth our British ancestors : 
 they were like^vise performed in the cursus ; and it is 
 not improbable that they became a part of the reh- 
 gious ceremonies of the festivals. In Germany, wg 
 know they were so ; as the sacred chariot of the 
 goddess Avho ruled over the affairs of men, its pro- 
 cession, and race, is most strikingly described by 
 Tacitus in his delightful book on the manners of 
 the Germans. I forbear to transcribe the passage, 
 as I wish to mention one less known, that occurs in 
 the very curious and ancient Welsh poem of Godo- 
 din : a poem, which, like the chronicles of Froissart, 
 affords the most lively picture of the manners of the 
 times to v.hich it relates. Gododin is a poetical 
 narrative, or history, of the conduct of Hengist and 
 Vortigcrn in the cruel slaughter of the ancient 
 Britons. 
 
 This act of treacher}?^, the poet tells vis. took place 
 in the curaus near the great temple of Stonehenge ; 
 which he calls " the area of the sons of harmony," no 
 
 "^ IIu was the great demon God of the British Druids. Has he not 
 ever been the same ? For what passions are more demoniacal thaii 
 these excited b}' a devotion to the God of vine ? 
 
 f From the Rev. E. Davies's translation of Aneuriu's song.
 
 Vill.] OF HEKGIST AND HORSA. 143 
 
 doubt in allusion to the bards. In addition to the 
 light which Gododin throws on ancient manners, its 
 incidents would afford the finest subject for a poem 
 in the style of your "]Madoc:'' it woidd not be un- 
 worthy even of your muse. The time, the puice, the 
 Tariety of character, the cold-hearted cunning of the 
 wily Saxon, or of the " Sea-drifted Wolf," as Hengist 
 is styled by the Welsh poet ; the distracted state of 
 the Druid, who, casting the lots just before the feast 
 begins, and finding their presage fatal to the Britons, 
 fears to warn them, as he meets the eye of Hengist 
 fixed sternly upon him ; the franlxuess and honest 
 confidence of the betraj'ed British chiefs ; the sud- 
 den and fearful catastrophe, as the bowl with the 
 flowing mead is raised to the lip ; the resolute con- 
 duct of the bards who perish in defending the tem- 
 ple ; the magnanimity of Eidiol (the yoimg hero of 
 the tale), vvho escapes at last fromahost of enemies; 
 all these and many other circumstances are highly 
 dramatic, and would afford materials for a poem or 
 romance, of great power and interest. So minutely 
 does the Welsh bard describe everything connected 
 vath his subject, that he mentions even the amber 
 beads worn as a WTeath on the brows of Hengist ; a 
 a circum. stance whose correctness is ascertained by 
 the heads of many Saxon princes being seen thus 
 adorned in sundry coins that have been fovmd in 
 England. 
 
 I mentioned, at the commencement of this letter, 
 that there is, near the remains of the ancient ciu'sus 
 on Dartmoor, a fallen cromlech. I shall here, there- 
 fore, before I proceed to the account of it, venture to 
 offer a few observations respecting the purposes to 
 which cromlechs were devoted ; since, though I have 
 always delighted in pursuits connected with antiquity.
 
 144 CROMLECHS. [lET. 
 
 I never yet could find any amusement in looking 
 upon an old stone, or any other rude vestige, vmlcss I 
 could in some measure trace out its history, or un- 
 derstand what relation it might bear to the manners 
 and customs of former ages : for Avithout this con- 
 nexion to give it an interest, to admire any thing 
 merely because it is old, seems to me as great an 
 absurdity, as it would be in the most uneducated 
 person to affect delight in looking on the pages of 
 Homer, when he did not understand one Avord of 
 Greek, and possibly had never heard of the Iliad. 
 
 I am well aware that antiquaries differ in their 
 opinions respecting the purposes to which cromlechs 
 were applied. Far be it from me to suppose that I 
 could throw any additional light on the subject : but 
 as I have attentively read many of those opinions, 
 and some were wholly opposite, I have been led to 
 conclude that each may be in the right, though not 
 exclusively, and that cromlechs were applied to more 
 than one purpose ; that they were sometimes used as 
 altars of sacrifice, at others as sepulchral monuments, 
 and not unfrequcntly as a mark of covenant. Mr. 
 Owen considers them in the latter view, as the Grair 
 Gorsedd or altar of the bards, placed within the ring 
 of federation. To them, therefore, may be applied 
 those lines of the poet — 
 
 " AVithln the stones of fuderation there. 
 On the green turf, and under the blue sky, 
 A noble band, the bards of Britain stood, 
 Their heads in rev'rence bare, and bare of foot, 
 A deathless brothtrhooJ."* 
 
 Those cromlechs under which are found urns and 
 human bones, were most likely sepulchral. We learn 
 
 * Madoc.
 
 VI 
 
 II.] CROMLECHS. 145 
 
 from Ossiaii that deceased heroes were deified by 
 the ancient inhabitants of these islands; since the 
 British Homer thus speaks of the tomb of Loda in 
 a poem whose subhmity would stir the coldest bosom, 
 Carric-Thura. 
 
 " A rock bends aloni^ the coast with all its cchoino- 
 woods. On the top is the circle of Loda, the mossy 
 stone of power I"' 
 
 And again thus speaks the " spirit of dismal Loda," 
 in his emphatic address to Fingal — " The King of 
 Sora is my son, he bends at the stone of my poiver." 
 
 All cromlechs with wells or springs beneath them 
 were most probably stones of federation;* since the 
 forms of initiation with the bards invariably took 
 place at a cromlech, where water might be found, as 
 necessary to the mysteries. This initiation repre- 
 sented death, and a renovation from the dead : for 
 the aspirant of Druidism was obliged to pass the 
 river of death in the boat of Garan Hu, the Charon 
 of Britain. Sometimes he was immersed in the water, 
 or at others buried, as it were, beneath the cromlech ; 
 since, says Davies, " it was held requisite that he 
 should have been mystically buried as well as mys- 
 tically dead." And cromlech, according to Logan, 
 is a Punic Mord, and signifies the bed of death. The 
 cells sometimes found imder these antiquities no 
 
 * Arthur's stone on Cevyn Bryn no doubt was such. It stood within 
 a 7-iriff of smaller stones ; and a spring of water called the Ladi/'s tvell 
 was found lieneath it. Henwen, or old ladj-, was the goddess of the 
 Arkite ceremonies. Arthur and his seven sons were said by the 
 Druids to have been saved in the ark from the general deluge. The 
 Helio-arkite rites celebrated their preservation. The ring of smaller 
 stones around this vast Cromlech, the names of Arthur's stone, ^xi^ 
 the L(\d>j well, so directly refer to the structure, the goddess and the 
 hero of the rites, that there can be, I think, no doubt the stone itself 
 was that oi federation for the bards of the Arkite ceremonies. 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 CROMLECHS. [lET. 
 
 doubt -were used as the temporary burial-places of 
 the bards, prc^dous to the cercmouios of initiation ; 
 ceremonies that mig-ht differ according- to the parti- 
 cular attributes or character of the g-od to Avhose 
 honour and worship the bard more immediately 
 devoted his life. This act of burial in the cells was 
 considered as a necessary trial of his patience and 
 his fortitude ; it was seldom, if ever, dispensed with, 
 and as it took place the day or night previous to 
 initiation, it reminds us, in some measure, of that 
 ceremony of later times, the vigil of arms practised 
 by the novitiate of chivalry, on the night before he 
 paid the vows, and received the honours of knight- 
 hood. 
 
 By far the finest cromlech on Dartmoor is near 
 Drewsteignton* — the very name speaks its high 
 claim to veneration ; and on the noble pile of rocks 
 in that neighbourhood may be seen some rock basins 
 that remain entire even to this day. 
 
 The fallen cromlech on the moor, which I men- 
 tioned at the beginning of this letter, derives its 
 chief value from its immediate vicinity to the Cursus, 
 or Via Sacra of the Druidical processions. From its 
 situation it is more likely to have been a place of 
 sacrifice than a stone of federation, or a memorial 
 
 * Drew, in the Celtic, and dnis, in the Greek, signified an oak. 
 The oak was sacred to the great gud of the Druids. From Drewester, 
 priest of the oak, we have the word Druids. The oak god was some- 
 times styled Buanaur, Ihe quickenev, before whom heaven and earth 
 trembled. " A dieadful foe, whose name in the table book is Drys- 
 sawr, the deity of the door." This, says Davies, " must apply to the 
 deified patriarch, \¥ho received his family into the ark, and his con- 
 nected votaries into the Druidical sanctuary.'' Acorns were held as 
 offerings from the bards. Taliesin speaks of the " proud, the magni- 
 ficent circles round which the majestic oaks, the symbols of Tarouuy, 
 the God of thunder, spread their arms.''
 
 VIII.] DARTMOOR CURSUS. 147 
 
 for the dead. And this conjecture, I tliinl:, v.ill not 
 be found far fetched, when we recollect that Godo, 
 the British Ceres, on the day of her festival, not 
 only had her procession in the cursus, but also her 
 sacred fire kindled in her temple or on her stone, 
 which was never to be extinguished for a year and a 
 day. It was, in fact, like that of Vesta, (originally 
 derived from the Magi,) a perpetual fire. I have 
 found one reference that bears upon this point in 
 the translation of the ancient poems of the bards 
 by Davies. It occurs in Gododin, before noticed, 
 where the sacred fire near the Cursus of Stonehenffe 
 is called '-the perpetual fire."* This very circum- 
 stance, therefore, renders it still more probable that 
 the fallen cromlech in question, near the Dartmoor 
 cursus, was a stone of sacrifice, wliere offerings were 
 made to the sacred fire of the British gods. And 
 henceforth I shall never visit that spot without in- 
 dulging one of those day-dreams of romance that 
 are so truly delightfid. I shall fancy white-robed 
 Druids, and blue-robed bards, and the procession of 
 Godo, with all its attendant rites and offerings made 
 on that very stone, where the cattle of the moor now 
 solace themselves with rubbing their noses and their 
 backs : " to what base uses may Ave not return ! " Yet 
 if Imman victims were ever there offered up amid 
 the barbarous rites of idolatry, who would regret 
 such degradation, who woidd do other than rejoice 
 to see the harmless use to which it is now applied ! 
 
 I mentioned also, that the line of the great cursus 
 on Dartmoor v/as in one part broken by a stone 
 circle. On circles, in their general character, I have 
 
 * Stonehenu;e was a temple of the sun ; and fire was invariably 
 used in the worijhip of its deity. 
 
 II 2
 
 148 MYTHOLOGICAL ARK. [lET. 
 
 before ventured some remarks in my former letters. 
 But respecting tliis foimd on the line of stones which 
 forms the Via Sacra, I liave a few observations to 
 offer, as I am inclined to think it was more imme- 
 diately connected with the ceremonies of the Helio- 
 arkite procession. The idea struck me, when I found 
 that Davies, in his very learned work on the mytho- 
 logy of the British Druids, so clearly proves that 
 the Caer Sidi was no other than a figure of the 
 sacred vessel in which the mythological Arthur and 
 his seven sons escaped the general deluge. The 
 Caer Sidi was, in fact, the ark of Noah. But as, in 
 process of time, the British priests, like most other 
 idolaters, blended their worship of the planets with 
 whatever vestiges they might retain of true religion, 
 (derived to them through Gomer the son of Japhet, 
 and the father of the Celtic nations,) even so did 
 they transfer the name of the ark to that " great 
 circle " in v.hich those luminaries, " emblems of their 
 gods, presided and expatiated. In British astro- 
 nomy it was become the name of the Zodiac."* In 
 the most ancient songs of the bards, this Caer Sidi, 
 or sacred circle, is constantly alluded to, sometimes 
 as a ship preserving what was left of the inhabitants 
 of the old world ; at others as a celestial circle ; and 
 often as the temple of Druidical worship ; and the 
 circle of the Helio-arkite god is spoken of when the 
 procession of the sacred ship becomes the theme of 
 song.f 
 
 Not far from the cursus there is seen a barrow, no 
 
 * Davies' Celtic Remains. 
 
 ■j- "With the circle of ruddy geins on my shield do I not preside 
 
 over the aiea of hlood, which is ^uardod l>y a hundred chiefs P" So 
 
 writes Taliesin in liis poem of Cad Godden. '• This shield," says 
 
 Davies, " was of the Helio-arkite God, and of his priest, having the
 
 VITI.] ANCIENT BARROWS. 149 
 
 doubt the o-ravc of yome chief or noble of the Dam- 
 nonii ; as it is well kno^^^l that heaps of earth (some- 
 times containing a kistvaen, or stone chest for the 
 body, and at others only an lu-n) or barrows were 
 the burial-places of the ancient Britons. Of these 
 tumuli;, Mr. Polwhele (whose learning and talents 
 entitle his opinions to be received with the utmost 
 respect) says, none are Roman. That gentlemaii also 
 tells us tliat in the year 1790, a friend with whom he 
 held a literary correspondence opened some of the 
 barrows on Dartmoor; and found in them " urns filled 
 with ashes, or the bones of a human bodv, too-ether 
 with ancient coins and instruments, sometimes of war." 
 This account reminds us of the manner in which the 
 ancient inhabitants of Caledonia made their graves : 
 for if a warrior became the tenant, they placed his 
 sword by his side, and the heads of twelve arrows ; 
 and not unfrequently the horn of a deer, as a symbol 
 of the deceased havino- been a hunter. 
 
 The Britons, also, sometimes erected a single 
 stone in memory of the dead. Possibly the obelisk 
 seen near the cursus (which has no inscription) may 
 be a memorial of this nature, and if so, of very 
 high antiquitv ; since, judging by two noble funeral 
 obelisks of Romanized British chiefs (now preserved 
 in our garden), I should imagine that, after the 
 Romans had overrun Britain, and not before, the 
 Britons inscribed their monumental stones and pil- 
 lars. On this point, however, I shall have more to 
 sav when I come to the subject of inscribed stones 
 
 image of Caer Sidi, the Zodiac, or of the Druidical temple, formed of 
 gems and set in gold." The device still maybe seen upon old British 
 coins. The hierarch presided in the nreno/' Me a//ar, which was guarded 
 by the priests and drenched with human blood.
 
 150 
 
 DRUID ICAL AUGURY. 
 
 [let. 
 
 This Skeich repr/'senis the Obe/ish\ and a Circle 7iear it. on Dartmoor. 
 
 fow.id in tills neiglibourliood, botli of the Britisli and 
 the Saxon period. 
 
 I have before noticed Vvhat a fine field Dartmoor 
 must have afforded the Druids for the augury of 
 birds ; and as I do not wish to break in upon the 
 extracts from Mr. Bray's Journals, that will supply 
 matter for many of my letters, before I take my 
 leave of the Druids, I wish to offer a few desultory 
 remarks that will not, I trust, be found altogether 
 misplaced. Certain it is that in this neighbourhood, 
 and on the moor in particular, birds are still consi- 
 dered as ominous of good or evil, more especially of 
 the latter ; and no reasoning will operate with the 
 people who have imbibed these prejudices from their 
 infancy, to make them consider such opinions as an 
 unhallowed credulity. 
 
 Augury, indeed, seems to have been a vmivcrsal 
 superstition even in the earliest ages ; and 1 have 
 always thought that, like most other heathenish
 
 VIII.] SACRED WELLS, 151 
 
 customs, it took its rise in truth ; for surely it is not 
 improbable that the dove of Noah bearing back to 
 the ark the olive branch, in token of the flood having 
 ceased, might have given birth to the coniidence re- 
 posed in all augiu'ies of the feathered tribes, a con- 
 iidence which extended itself throughout the known 
 world. The Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, the 
 Gauls and Britons, and many other nations of anti- 
 quity, consulted the flight and appearance of birds. 
 In ^Yales, the custom long held sway, and the bards 
 sometimes celebrated these omens in their songs. 
 Taliesin thus alludes to them, when he makes a 
 priest say, " A cormorant approaches me with long 
 wings. She assaults the top stone vdth her hoarse 
 clamour : there is wrath in the fates ! Let it burst 
 through the stones ! Contention is meet only amongst 
 the grey wolves." 
 
 I have noticed, likewise, that there are certain 
 springs on the moor which appear to have been 
 considered with more than ordinary interest, such 
 as Fitz's or Fices well. And where we find so many 
 vestiges of Druidical antiqvuty, it is most natural 
 to conclude that even these springs were held in 
 veneration at a very remote period. Water, we 
 know, was used for man}- sacred pxu'poses by the 
 Druids : it was in fact essential in many of their 
 religious rites. The celebrated cauldron of Ccrid- 
 wen (which, according to Davies. implied not a single 
 vessel used for one simple purpose) was nothing 
 more than water taken from a sacred fountain and 
 impregnated with a decoction of certain potent 
 herbs. The " cheerful and placid vervain " was 
 chief amongst these ; and this decoction was used, 
 like the holy water of the Church of Rome, for
 
 152 ROCK BASINS, [lET. 
 
 purification or sprinkling. The cauldron of Cerid- 
 wen Avas placed in two vessels within the circle, or 
 temple, east and west, and the priests moved round 
 them reciting hymns or prayers. Pliny bears testi- 
 mony to the use of vervain : as he sa^s it was used 
 by the Druids in their sortilege or lots of divination. 
 And Tacitus, also, gives a particular account of the 
 manner in which the German priests practised this 
 custom of casting lots. I cannot immediately find 
 the passage ; but, if I recollect right, he mentions 
 branches or twigs, as well as herbs, being used in 
 sortilege. Some of the latter it was likewise usual 
 to gather near a sacred fountain. 
 
 The purposes to which the water secured in rock 
 basins, as it fell from the clouds, might have been 
 applied, has, I am aware, long been a subject of 
 dispute with antiquaries. But it is not improbable 
 that the water in the rock basins, like the disputed 
 cromlechs, was applied to more purposes than merely 
 that of lustration or sprinkling. My reason for 
 tliinking so is grounded on certain passages in the 
 poems of the bards ; and if we reject the writings of 
 the bards as authorities, Avhere sliall we supply their 
 place ? Wc might surely with as much reason reject 
 the authority of Froissart for the manners and cus- 
 toms of the middle ages. Taliesin speaks of the 
 mystical water as being the fountain of his oavii 
 inspiration ; and Davies (whose profound learning 
 in Celtic anticpiity cannot be too highly appreciated) 
 tells us that in a mythological tale, describing the 
 initiation of that celebrated bard, the goddess Cerid- 
 wcn prepared the water from the sacred rock, and 
 placed in it her potent herbs that had been collected 
 with due observance of the planetary hours.
 
 VIII.] PRIMITIVE BRIDGES. 153 
 
 Rockinsf or Losran stones are still found on Dart- 
 moor, notwithstanding the havoc that has been 
 made amongst them during so many ages. There 
 can, I thinlc, be no doubt that these stones were 
 eno-ines of cunninsj; in the hands of the Druids ; who 
 most probably made the multitude believe that they 
 possessed a power more than natural, and could 
 alone be moved by miracle at the word of the priest. 
 One of their tricks respecting the secret means of 
 settinof a lo"an in motion on Dartmoor was acci- 
 dentally discovered by Mr. Bray, in a way so re- 
 markable, that I shall forbear any other mention of 
 it in this place, purposing, hereafter, to send you 
 his own account of the circumstance. The logan 
 was in all probability not only resorted to for the 
 condemnation or acquittal of the accvised, but tlie 
 very threatening, the mere apprehension of its su- 
 pernatural powers in the detection of guilt, might 
 have led the criminal to a full confession of those 
 offences with which he stood charged. 
 
 Amongst the British antiquities of the moor, I 
 must not forget to mention the rude vestiges of its 
 primitive bridges. They are indeed so remarkable, 
 that any description must convey but a very imper- 
 fect idea of them ; and if I could but enjoy healtli 
 sufficient to allow me to execute the schemes I have 
 in mind, these bridges would form one subject for 
 the graphic illustrations I am desirous of attempting 
 for my work; yet alas, I fear to say I will do an}^- 
 thing, since 1 cannot depend upon myself even for 
 one daj-'s health. 
 
 The construction of these bridges is exceedingly 
 simple, being nothing more than masses of granite 
 piled horizontally, and thus forming the piers, on a 
 
 h5
 
 154 ANCIENT MINES. [lET. 
 
 foundation of solid rock, that nature has planted in 
 the midst of the stream. The piers being thus 
 formed, the bridge is completed by huge slabs of 
 moor stone laid across and supported from pier to 
 pier. Some few of these picturesque and primitive 
 bridges still remain entire ; others are seen in ruins. 
 It is not unlikely they are unique in their construc- 
 tion ; at least I can say that though I have visited in 
 England, South Wales, and Britanny, many places 
 celebrated for Celtic remains, I have never yet seen 
 anything like our ancient Dartmoor bridges. They 
 appear to have been placed in those spots where, 
 on ordinary occasions, stepping-stones would have 
 answered the purpose : but the sudden and violent 
 rains with which the moor is visited render stepping- 
 stones very insufficient for the convenience or secu- 
 rity of the passenger. No person but one Avho is 
 accustomed to witness the sudden swell, the turmoil, 
 rapidity and force of a river or torrent in a moun- 
 tainous region, during heavy rains, can have the 
 least idea of the violence with which a traveller, 
 attempting to cross from rock to rock, would be 
 carried off and overwhelmed by one false step or slip 
 in his hazardous passage. So sudden, sometimes, is 
 the rush and swell of our Dartmoor rivers in storms 
 of rain, that immense masses of granite, generally 
 standing aloft above the waters, will be in a moment 
 covered with a sheet of foam that resembles those 
 fearful breakers at sea which always indicate hidden 
 and fatal reefs of rock. 
 
 On the moor, also, are several ancient trackways 
 together with stream-works, of very high antiquity. 
 Mr. Bray is disposed to consider them of the same 
 date with the Druidical remains. The art of working
 
 VIH.] SILVER MINES. 155 
 
 metals was known to the Britons ; and the mmes of 
 Dartmoor, though now fallen into neglect, were for 
 many successive ages worked with considerable 
 profit. Leland mentions them; and Mr. Pol whole 
 says, " we are informed from records, that all the old 
 mines on Dartmoor are on its western side towards 
 the Tamar ; there are strong marks both of shode 
 and stream works." Leland speaks of these, and 
 adds that " they were wrought by Aiolens of water." 
 Mr. Polwhele is of opinion that the Damnonii carried 
 on their tin-traffic with the Greeks of Marseilles, and 
 that the port Ictis in all probability was the Isle of 
 St. Nicholas in Plymouth Harbour.* 1 have heard 
 (though I have never been fortunate enough to see 
 any) tliat, in breaking into old mines in this neigh- 
 bourhood, heads of axes and other antiquities made 
 of flint have been found : flint indeed has been the 
 primitive material for most implements, not only with 
 the ancient Britons, but with uncivilized nations even 
 to the present day. 
 
 Of any minute particulars respecting the com- 
 merce of tlie Damnonii, nothing, I believe, is known. 
 Like that of the other kingdoms of Britain, it prin- 
 cipally consisted in hides ^nd tin. But as Tacitus 
 expressly declares that Britain produced both gold 
 and silver, as well as other metals, it is not unpro- 
 bable that, even so early as the Roman conquest, the 
 silver mines of this neighbourhood were not iniknown 
 to the Britons. The silver of Devon, in later times, 
 was held in high estimation. Edward IIL derived 
 from it such considerable benefit, that it assisted 
 him to carry on his brilliant and chivalrous career in 
 
 * Pinkerfon is of opinion that the Cassiterides did not mean exclu- 
 sively the Scilly Isles, but also Great Britain.
 
 156 
 
 FAYS AND PIXIES. [leT. 
 
 France. These mines at one period were conducted 
 by the Jews, who rendered them so flourishing, that 
 the reigning monarch (if I remember right it was 
 Edward II.) baiiished them the kingdom from 
 motives of suspicion, as a reward for their skill, 
 labour, and success. In the days of Elizabeth 
 several veins were discovered ; and that great prin- 
 cess, with her accustomed wisdom, pursued a very 
 different policy to that of Edward II., for, finding 
 her croMn mines had fallen into neglect, and that 
 foreigners understood the mining art better than the 
 English, she in\ited and allured them from Ger- 
 many and elsewhere, by liberal offers of reward, to 
 pass over sea and teach their craft to the miners of 
 Devon. A cup weighing 137 ounces was presented 
 to the City of London by Sir Francis Bulmer; it 
 was formed from the silver of the Coombe-Martin 
 mines in the north of our county. 
 
 My letter has extended to such a length that I 
 must forbear to add more, reser\-ing for some future 
 opportunity what I may have to say, not only about 
 our Dartmoor minerals, but also concerning certain 
 Acstiges of ancient customs still found to linger, 
 though in decay, amongst the peasantry of the moor; 
 and, though last not least, a word or two respecting 
 the life and adventures of those merry little pixies 
 and fays, which, though never seen, are here still 
 averred to have a local habitation as well as a name, 
 and to do all those various petty acts of mischief, 
 which, in a family, or amongst domestics, in other 
 counties, have, whenever inc^uiry is made respecting 
 them, ''Nobody" for their author: not so is it in 
 Devon; our " Somebody" is never wanting; and as 
 it is a being who can slip through a keyhole, sail on
 
 VIII.] FAYS AND PIXIES. 157 
 
 a moon-beam, and, quite independent of all locks 
 and bolts, enter closets and cupboards at will, we 
 arc never at a loss to hear who it is that pilfers 
 sweatmeats, or cracks cups and saucers, to the an- 
 no3'ance of staid old housekeepers, who may think 
 that both should be held sacred, and that tea-cups, 
 like hearts, were never made to be broken. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir, 
 And beheve me ever most respectfully 
 and sincerely yovn-s, 
 
 A. E. Bray.
 
 158 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Account of the Circles of Stone near Merrivale Bridge — 
 Wails, or Stoae Hedges, how formed en the Moor — Account of 
 forty contiguous Circles of Stone — Traditionary account and vulgar 
 error respecting the Circles near Merrivale Bridge — Plague at 
 Tavistock in the year 1625 — Temporarj" appropriation of the Circles 
 at that period to a Market gave rise to the error — Borlase quoted ; 
 his opinion of the Circular Temples of the Britons — Further ac- 
 count of the Great Cursus near Merrivale Bridge — Barrow — Crom- 
 lech — Kistvaen, or Sepulcliral Stone CavitA" — Origin of the word 
 Cromlech — Borlase again quoted — Obelisk near the Cursus — 
 Hessorv Tor — ^\"iew from it — Curious Rock on the simimit of the 
 Tor answers in every respect to a Druidical Seat of Judgment — 
 Rimdle"s Stone. 
 
 ficarage, Tavistock, April 18/A, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 This cvenino:. on lookins: over some notes made 
 bv mv husband, at the thne he first explored the 
 ■svesteni Hmits of Dartmoor. I find he notices, more 
 particularlv than I have done, the chclcs and cursus 
 near Men'ivale bridge. I think it will be better, 
 therefore, before I enter on anv other subject, to 
 give you the foUo^nng extract from his papers, as it 
 mil convey a more complete idea of those antiquities 
 than you can have formed from my preAilous account 
 of them. 
 
 '•' October 7th. 1S02. — This morning we paid a 
 visit to the stone circles, whiclt are about five miles 
 from Ta^■istock, on the liill bcvond Merrivale. or 
 MerriWll. bridge, over the river Walkham. They
 
 IX.] STONE CIRCLES. 159 
 
 arc on each side of the Moreton road, by which, 
 indeed, two of them are intersected. Tlie first 
 (which, as well as many others, has hecn partly de- 
 stroyed, in order to budd a neighbouring stone 
 hedge) is twenty feet in diameter. I here, perhaps^ 
 mav be allowed to remark, that the hedges on Dart- 
 moor are formed of stones piled on each other with- 
 out any mortar, or eyen earth, to the hcioht of about 
 five feet. These walls are found better, in many 
 respects, than any others; for, by admitting the 
 winds through their interstices, they are not liable 
 to be blo^^■n do\^^l by the storms which are here so 
 tremendous ; and, by being of so loose a texture, the 
 cattle are afraid to come near, much more to break 
 over them, for fear of their falling upon them. 
 
 '• Findinsr the cuxles were so numerous, I measured 
 the remainder by the shorter method of pacing 
 them. They consist in all of about forty : six beino- 
 on the left side of the road, and the remainder on 
 the other. The greater number of them are about 
 eight paces in diameter, though one is sixty, in Avhich 
 are enclosed two or three small ones. This is about 
 the centre of the whole. There are two or tlu^ee of 
 an oval form ; many of them have two upright stones 
 at the entrance, wliich is generally towards the south. 
 The other stones are mostly placed on their edge, 
 lengthways, and are frequently ranged in double 
 rows. Within the larrrest circle is one of about eioht 
 paces, enclosing a much smaller, of which it forms a 
 part. Close to it are some flat rocks, about a foot or 
 two hia'h. This was, perhaps, the central altar. To- 
 Avards the north-east and south-west sides are two 
 ill-defined circular lines of stone, Ayhich might pro- 
 bably be the circmnyallation or boundary of the holy
 
 160 PLAGUE AT TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 precincts. Many of these circles have evidently 
 been entirely destroyed for the sake of the stones. 
 Foundations have been lately laid for two moor 
 huts,* one of which will enclose a circle, and the 
 other intersect one. Though they are generally 
 about eight paces, a few are only three or four. 
 Part of the spot chosen for these erections was a 
 natural karn, or bed of stones ; so that the greatest 
 labour, perhaps, was clearing the ground. The 
 areas of the circles are generally free from stones. 
 
 " The account given by tradition respecting these 
 circles requires some notice here. I shall preface it 
 with saying, that one of the four great plague years 
 in London was 1625, in which about 35,000 of 
 its inhabitants perished. And this is the year in 
 Avhich this fatal malady most raged at Tavistock. 
 The burials in our register at that period amount 
 to 522. On the following year they had decreased 
 to 98 ; and on the preceding year (in the latter 
 part of which it prol)ably, in some degree, prevailed) 
 they amounted but to 132; the very number, save 
 one, that were buried in one month (namely Sep- 
 tember) in the year of this awful visitation. Of 
 this, or a similar one. another memorial remains in 
 these circles on Dartmoor, near Merrivale bridge 
 (though they certainly are of far greater antiquity, 
 and are either Druidical, or the vestiges of a Celtic 
 town), for they are stated by tradition to be the 
 enclosures in which, during the plague at Tavistock 
 (that they might have no intercourse with its inha- 
 bitants), the country-people deposited the necessary 
 supply of provisions, for which, within the same, the 
 towns-people left their money. 
 
 * These, however, were never completed.
 
 IX.] THE POTATO. 161 
 
 " That these ch-cles may have been applied to this 
 purpose is not improbable ; particularly as the spot 
 is still known (and, indeed, is so distinguished in 
 some maps) by the name of the ' Potato JNIarkct.' 
 Nor is it altogether improbable that it was during 
 the plague in question. For the potato was first 
 brought fi-om Mrginia by Sir Walter Raleigh (the 
 contemporary, nay, fellow- soldier, of our great towns- 
 man. Sir Francis Drake, and himself also a native of 
 Devonshire), ' who, on his return homeward, in the 
 year 1623, stopping at Ireland, distributed a num- 
 ber of potatoes in that kingdom. These having been 
 planted multiplied accordingly; and in a few years 
 the cultivation of them became general. It may be 
 noticed that the discovery of this inestimable root 
 has been of the greatest consequence to mankind, as 
 it is now almost miiversally cultivated, though at 
 first its introduction was very much opposed. It 
 has been remarked that, \nth the greatest propriety, 
 it may be denominated the bread-root of Great 
 Britain and Ireland." ^ Indeed by our neighbours, 
 the French, it is called by a name, to which earth- 
 apple would be synonimous in our o\Am language. 
 
 "Nor is it, perhaps, to be wondered at, that the 
 era of this cautious traffic should be no longer known, 
 or almost as little remembered as the purposes to 
 which these granite circles were originally applied. 
 From oiu' long immunity we have been induced to 
 think that the plague was no more likely to return 
 to us than the barbarous superstitions of our Celtic 
 ancestors. But. of the sons of men, who shall say to 
 the pestilence, ' Hitherto shalt thou come, but no 
 farther V 
 
 * Rees's Cyclopredia.
 
 162 DRUIDICAL CIRCLES. [lET. 
 
 " It is absurd to imagine that any circles would 
 be formed of sucli vast stones solely for tlie pur- 
 pose of a marlvct during the time of the plague, 
 though, being on the spot, they might have been 
 so applied. If they were designed onlv to be 
 boundaries to distinguish the property of different 
 persons, a circular line or trench, on some spot 
 fi-ee fi'om stones, might have been formed with 
 greater ease. It has been suggested by some, that 
 these enclosures were made to defend the flocks 
 from the wolves. This idea, though more specious 
 at first, is ccpially objectionable ; for, if tliis were the 
 case, they must have been built to some height, 
 and, at leasts parts of the walls must have remained 
 in an erect position, or the ruins have been still 
 found below. But this is not the case; not one 
 stone, in most instances, being on the top of another. 
 
 " It is natural to conclude, then, that, like the other 
 A'estiges on the moor, they must have been the works 
 of the Britons or the Druids ; and this last conclusion 
 will presently be siipported by some other remains 
 found near them, and which (after mentioning the 
 purposes to which Druidical circles were applied) I 
 shall endeavour to describe. They may be considered 
 as temples or places set apart by the Druids for the 
 pui^poses of religion. Borlase considers that ' some 
 might be employed for the sacrifice, and to prepare, 
 kill, examine, and burn the A-ictims.' ' Others," he 
 conjectures, ' might be allotted to prayer ;' for the 
 station of those selected as the victims, and some 
 for the feastings of the priests. Thus, whilst one 
 Druid was preparing the victim in one circle, another 
 might be engaged in his devotions, or in ' de- 
 scribing the limits of his temple, and a third be
 
 IX.] DRUIDICAL CIRCLES. 163 
 
 going- his round at the extremity of another circle of 
 stones." Nor is it unhkely that many other Druids 
 were occupied in these mysterious evohitions. Some, 
 perhaps, were busy in the rites of augury, and, at 
 the same time, all employed, each in his proper 
 place, in the ceremonials of idolatry, ' under the 
 inspection of the high priests, who, by comparing and 
 observing the indication of the whole, might judge 
 of the will of the gods vnih the greater certainty.' 
 
 " The circles, above described, are on the slope of 
 a hill. On the top of it, which spreads into a plain of 
 some length, are two parallel double lines of stones, 
 stretching south-west by north-east. The remains 
 of a circle are at the commencement of one, where 
 is also an erect stone. This hne is 198 paces in 
 length, at the end of which is a stone, now fallen, 
 nine feet long. The stones that form the line are 
 about two feet apart, and the same space exists be- 
 tween the two rows. From this to the opposite 
 double line are thirty-six paces. The last is imper- 
 fectly extended to the length of seventy-four paces 
 more ; there are two stones, one erect, the other 
 fallen. Returning from the point opposite the other, 
 where is also a stone erect, after walking seventy-one 
 paces, I came to a low circular mound which I con- 
 jecture is a barrow, with a kistvacn on the top of it. 
 This I shall describe hereafter. From this circle, at 
 the distance of forty-seven paces, I met with a large 
 stone, which served as an index to a cromlech four- 
 teen paces distant. Sixty-nine paces farther brought 
 me to two large stones ; and tliirty paces from these 
 I reached the end, where is a stone erect. Thus, 
 including the additional line, this is 217 paces in 
 leno-th. To the otlier, which it here also somewhat
 
 164 CROMLECHS. [lET. 
 
 surpasses, are twenty-six paces ; so that these Hues 
 of stone are ten paces nearer at the north-east end 
 than they are at the other. But, considering the 
 length, they may be looked upon as parallel. The 
 area between, as well as the space without them, for 
 some distance, is free from stones. 
 
 " For what purpose this avenue, or cursus, was used 
 it is now impossible to determine ; though the several 
 adjacent remains, known to have been frequently 
 erected by the Druids, are a strong confirmation of 
 the opinion, that it must have been the work of one 
 and the same people and period. This avenue, 
 Avhich was probably subservient to religion, might 
 possibly have been appropriated for the sacred pro- 
 cessions of the priests. It might be used, also, to 
 bear the funeral pomp of their departed brethren, 
 as by the side of the south-west end of it is seen a 
 circular heap of stones sixty-five paces round. This 
 was probably a barrow, or place of burial. From the 
 end of this line at the south-west, at the distance of 
 seventy-one paces, we found another barrow, men- 
 tioned above. It is in the centre of the two lines, 
 and is twelve feet in diameter. In the middle of it 
 is a hollow in the form of a diamond, or lozenge, 
 which is undoubtedly a kistvaen, or sepulchral stone 
 cavity. It was almost concealed with moss, but, 
 with some difficulty, we dug to the depth of three 
 feet; and, discovering nothing, thought it useless to 
 dig farther, as, in appearance, we had reached the 
 natural stratum, which was of a clayey substance, be- 
 low the black peat. It is probable that nothing was 
 deposited there but ashes. 
 
 " The cromlech which we afterwards visited is 
 fallen, but bears evident signs of having been in an
 
 IX.] DERIVATION OF CROMLECH. 165 
 
 erect position. This, also, is supposed to be a se- 
 pulchral monument. The word cromlech is derived 
 fi'ora krum (crooked), and lech (a flat stone) ; as it 
 consists of a flat stone, generally of a gibbous or 
 convex form, supported on other stones in an erect 
 position. 
 
 " Many are the opinions respecting cromlechs. 
 Borlase says, ' that the use and intent of them was 
 primarily to distinguish and do honour to the dead, 
 and also to enclose the dead body, by placing the 
 supporters and covering-stone, so as they should 
 surround it on all sides.' The quoit or covering- 
 stone of this on the moor, one end of it being 
 buried in the ground, is ten feet and a half long, 
 six feet and a half Avide, and one foot and a half 
 thick. Under it are three or four stones now Iving 
 prostrate, but undoubtedly they formerly were in an 
 erect position, as its supporters. 
 
 " At some distance, towards the south of the pa- 
 rallel lines, is a circle of nine low stones, twelve 
 paces in diameter, rising fi'om the smooth surface of 
 the ground. Near it is an erect stone ten feet and a 
 half hio'h. From its connexion with the circle it was 
 probably placed there by the Druids, and might 
 have been one of their idols. At some distance 
 from the other end of the parallel lines we perceived 
 some stone posts about five or six feet high, stretch- 
 ing in a line to the south-east, but having no con- 
 nexion with what has been described. On going up 
 to them we fouiid on one side the letter T, and on 
 the other A. On inquiring afterwards, we learnt 
 that they served as guide-posts from Tavistock to 
 Ashburton, before the turnpike-road was made over 
 the moor.
 
 166 SEAT OF JUDGMENT. [lET. IX. 
 
 " We next visited two tors to the south, but saw 
 notliing' worthy remark, and then turning to the 
 east ascended Hessory Tor, which is six miles from 
 Tavistock, and is reckoned the highest part of the 
 forest. There we had a most extensive view in every 
 direction. The sea was visible over the summits of 
 the lofty tors towards the south and sotith-west. 
 Towards the north-wTst, also, we thoug-ht we could 
 distinguish it, as we perceived an horizon evidently 
 too straight to be land. On tlie top of this tor is a 
 curious rock, which, from its shape, I should be in- 
 clined to think was not unknown to the Druids. Its 
 front, towards the south-east, was thirty-two feet. 
 At the height of eight feet from the ground are two 
 canopies, projecting nine feet. At the distance of 
 eight feet is a kind of buttress, twenty in length, 
 and four in heiglit. It answers in every respect to 
 the idea we entertain of a Druidical seat of judg- 
 ment. Descending to the road we reached it near a 
 high stone post, Avhich is commonly called RundeiFs 
 stone. This is considered as the boundary of the 
 forest, and the letter B on the south side of it may 
 refer to the limits of the moor." 
 
 Having given you this extract from Mr. Bray's 
 papers, I forbear to add more to this letter, than that 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Ever faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray.
 
 167 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents: — Bogs ou the Moor, called Dartmoor Stables — Mists on 
 the IMoor, their density — Popular belief among the Peasantry of 
 being Pixy-led — Fairies and Pixies of the Moor — Liues frcm Dray- 
 ton — Fairies of older date in Britain than the times of the Crusaders, 
 Duergar or Dwarf — Their origin by some attributed to the Lamise — 
 Fosbrook's Opinioa quoted respecting their origin with the Nations 
 of the North — Their peculiar Character — Druids supposed to wor- 
 ship Fairies — Derivation of the word Pi>^^-Pixies a distinct genus 
 from Fairies — Said in Devon to be the Souls of Childriu v.'ho die 
 uubaptized — The reputed Nature, Character, and Sports of Pixies 
 — Traditionary Tales respecting them — A Pixy bribed with fine 
 clothes — Said to change Children in the Cradle — Stoty of a 
 Changeling — Pixy Houses, where found — Lines from Drayton's 
 Nymphidia — Conrade and Phoebe, a Faiiy Tale in verse, by the 
 Rev. E. A. Bray, quoted — The wild waste of Daitmoor haunted by 
 Spirits and Pixies — Causes assigned by the Peasantry for these 
 Spirits not being so common as in former days — Pixy-led folk — 
 Tlieir distresses — Turning Jackets and Petticoat?, a practice to 
 prevent the disaster — A Tale of an Old \Voman and the Pixies, 
 very faithfully recorded, as handed down by Tradition to modern 
 times — Another Tale, not less wonderful, concerning two Damsels 
 — Legend of the Old Woman, the Tulip-bed, and ihe gratitude of 
 Pixies. 
 
 Jlcarage, Tavistock, April 'lAth, 1S32. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I BELIEVE I have not yet said much aboiit 
 our bog's on tlie moor, which, from some hickicss 
 horse or other beino- now and then lost in them, 
 have obtained, as their popular name, that of the 
 Dartmoor Stables. These boo-s in old times must 
 have been exceedingly formidable and perilous; 
 since, to borrow an expression fi'om the poetaster
 
 168 DARTMOOR MISTS. [lET. 
 
 who celebrated the roads of General Wade in the 
 Hig-hlands, I may truly say of the moor, " had you 
 travelled its roads before they were made," you 
 Avould have blessed the good fortune that enabled 
 you to cross such a wilderness without being lost. 
 For even now that we have a passage through it, 
 which displays all the happy resvilts of Mr. Mac 
 Adam's genius, yet, nevertheless, if a mist suddenly 
 comes on, the stranger feels no small apprehension 
 for his own safety. 
 
 Mr. Bray assures me that when he used, in early 
 life, to follow up with enthusiasm his researches on 
 the moor, not heeding the weather, he has frequently 
 been suddenly surprised and enveloped in such a 
 dense mist, or rather cloud, that he literally could 
 scarcely see the ears of the animal on which he rode. 
 Once or twice he was in some peril by getting on 
 boggy grouTid, Avhen his horse, more terrified than 
 himself, would shake and tremble in ever}- joint, and 
 become covered with foam, from the extreme agony 
 of fear. If such adventures have now and then hap- 
 pened, even in these latter days, how far more fre- 
 quently must they have occurred, when there was no 
 regular road whatever across the moor ! How often 
 a traveller, if he escaped with life, must have wan- 
 dered about for hours in such a wilderness, before 
 he could fall into any known or beaten track, to lead 
 him from his perils towards the adjacent town of 
 Tavistock, or the villages with Avhich it is sur- 
 rounded ! 
 
 I mention this because I think there cannot be a 
 doubt that similar distresses gave rise to the po- 
 pular belief still existing, not only on the moor, but 
 throughout all this neighbourhood, that whenever a 
 person loses his way he is neither more nor less than
 
 ;?;.] PIXY FREAKS. 169 
 
 " Pixy-led.'' And as I wish to give you in this 
 letter some little variety of subject, suppose we leave 
 for a while the old Druids and their mystic circles, 
 and say something about the fairies or pixies of the 
 moor ; though, as I shall presently state, and give 
 my reasons for so doing, I consider the latter to be 
 a distinct race of genii from the former. You are 
 a poet, and have, therefore, no doubt a very fi'iendly 
 feeling towards those little pleasant elves that have 
 supplied you with many a wild and fanciful dream of 
 fairy land. You will listen, then, with good A\ill to 
 one who proposes, in this letter, to become the faith- 
 ful historian of sundry fi-eaks and adventures they 
 are said to have played oiF in our neighbourhood, 
 the remembrance of v/hich, without such record, 
 might become lost to posterity; and as fairies or 
 pixies often do as much mischief in their supreme 
 career as greater personages, I do not see why they 
 should not claim some celebrity as well as other 
 spirits of evil, who may have exhibited their achieve- 
 ments on a larger and more important scale. To 
 borrow an expression from Drayton, that exquisite 
 poet of fairy hmd (who, perhaps, is not inferior even 
 to Shahspeare for the frolics of his Pigwggin, in 
 the Nymphidia), I would say that, as no historian 
 has here been found to record the acts of our pixies, 
 I, imworthv as I may be to accomplish the task, will, 
 nevertheless, adventure it — 
 
 " For since no muse hath been so bold, 
 Or of the latter, or the old, 
 Their elvish secrets to unfold, 
 
 Which lie from other's reading, 
 Mv active muse to liLrht shall brin ' 
 The court of a proud fairy king, 
 And tell there of the revellinj^ ; 
 Jove prosper my prucieding." 
 VOL. I. T
 
 170 ANTIQUITY AND ORIGIN [lEX. 
 
 However, as I wish to model m}- historical records of 
 the pixies on the very best examples, I shall bear in 
 mind that it is usual in all grave histories, before 
 reciting the heroic or other actions of individuals, to 
 say something of the origin, rise and progress of the 
 people to w^hom they belong. Thus, then, before I 
 relate the froHcs of 
 
 " Hop and Mop, and Drop so clear, 
 Pip, and Trip, and Skip, that were 
 To Mab, their sovereign dear. 
 Her special maids of honour," 
 
 it mav not be amiss to tell what I have been able to 
 glean about the accredited opinions and traditions 
 concerning the fairy race in general, ere we come to 
 particulars. And who knows but such a task may 
 be more liberally rewarded than is usual with luck- 
 less authors, even by — 
 
 " A bright silver tester fine 
 All dropt into my shoe." 
 
 Dr. Percy gives it as his opinion that these " elves 
 and demi-puppets " are of much older date in this 
 country than the time of the crusaders, to whom 
 some Avriters have referred their introduction on 
 British ground. Tliis opinion receives no small 
 confirmation from the kno^vai credulity and number- 
 less superstitions of the Anglo-Saxons. Amongst 
 other wonders of the unseen world of spirits, they 
 believed in the existence of a certain race of little 
 devils, that were neither absolutely spirits nor men, 
 called Ducrgar, or dwarfs; and to whose cunning 
 and supernatural skill they attributed sundiy petty 
 acts of good or e^il that far exceeded the power of 
 man. They were considered so far to partake of
 
 X.] OF FAIRIES. 17]^ 
 
 human nature, that their bodies were material, 
 though so hght and airy, that the}^ could at will 
 pass through any other created substance, and be- 
 come indistinct and even invisible to the sio^ht. 
 
 Some writers have affirmed that the fairies derive 
 their origin from the lamiae, whose province it was 
 to steal and misuse new-born infants; and others 
 class them ^nth the fauns or sylvan deities of anti- 
 quity. And a very learned and meritorious author * 
 considers that the superstition respecting fays is 
 founded on the Abrunse of the northern nations, i.e. 
 their penates. Amongst the ancient Germans, he 
 states, they were merely images made of the roots 
 of the hardest plants, especially the mandragora. 
 These little images were about six or seven inches 
 or a foot high. They mostly represented females 
 or Druidesses ; and remind us of a child's doll of 
 modern days. They were usually kept in a httle 
 box, and offered meat and drink by then* possessors : 
 occasionally they were taken out and consulted in 
 the telling of fortunes ; when, not improbablv, being 
 managed by some wire or machinery like the pup- 
 pets that now delight childhood, they Avould bow 
 their heads and raise their arms in answer to a ques- 
 tion. These penates were considered as lucky for 
 the household in which they had their abode ; and 
 they were held to have a marvellous power in the 
 cure of diseases or pains. 
 
 The Druids are supposed to have worshipped 
 fairies, amongst their many deities ; and certain it is 
 they are often mentioned by the most ancient Welsh 
 
 * The Rev. Thomas Dudley Fosbroke, in his excellent and laborious 
 work, the " Encyclopaedia of Antiquities," gives a very interesting 
 account of the faiiies of different nations, 
 
 1 2
 
 i72 DERIVATION OF PIXY, [lET. 
 
 bards, by whom they were called " the spirits of the 
 hills." There can be no doubt that these little 
 beings were considered as a race of genii by the 
 northern nations as the Duergi or pigmies. May 
 not this have given origin to the word pixies, the 
 name by which they are to this day known in the 
 west of England ? Brand's derivation seems impro- 
 bable.* The pixies are certainly a distinct race 
 from the fairies ; since, to this hour, the elders 
 amongst the more knowing peasantry of Devon will 
 invariably tell you (if you ask them what pixies 
 really may be) that these native spirits are the souls 
 of infants, who were so unhappy as to die before they 
 had received the Christian rite of baptism. 
 
 These tiny elves are said to delight in solitary 
 places, to love pleasant hills and pathless woods ; or 
 to disport themselves on the margins of rivers and 
 mountain streams. Of all their amusements, dancing 
 forms their chief delight ; and this exercise they are 
 said always to practise, like the Druids of old, in a 
 circle or ring. Browne, our Tavistock poet, alludes 
 to this custom, when he writes — 
 
 A pleasant mead, 
 Where fairies often did their measures tread, 
 "Which in the meadows make such circles green. 
 
 These dainty beings, though represented as of 
 exceeding beauty in their higher or aristocratic 
 order, are nevertheless, in some instances, of strange, 
 uncouth and fantastic figure and visage : though 
 such natural deformity need give them very little 
 
 * He says, "I suspect pixy to be a corruption of pucket, vfluch 
 anciently sif^nified little better than the devil, whence in Shakspeare 
 ihe epithet of 'sweet' is given to Puck by way of (jualitication." 
 Surely pixy is more like pi^jniy than " puckes."
 
 X.] FAIRY TRANSFORMATION. 
 
 ■^^ 
 
 uneasiness, since they are traditionally averred to 
 possess the power of assuming various shapes at 
 will ; a power of which Ariel exhibits a specimen, who, 
 as well as being able to ''ride on the curled clouds," 
 to " flame amazement," and to mock and mislead the 
 drunken Trinculo and his companions, could trans- 
 form himself into a harp}', and clean off a bancjuet 
 with his wings. But whatever changes the outward 
 figure of fairies may undergo, they are, amongst 
 themselves, as constant in their fashions as a Turk ; 
 their dress never varies, it is always green. 
 
 Their love of dancing is not unaccompanied with 
 that of music, though it is often of a nature some- 
 what different to those sounds which human ears 
 are apt to consider harmonious. In Devonsliire, 
 that unlucky omen, the cricket's cry, is to them as 
 animating and as Avell timed as the piercing notes of 
 the fife, or the dulcet melody of rebec or flute, to 
 mortals. The frogs sing their double bass, and the 
 screech owl is to them hke an a^-ed and favoured 
 minstrel piping in hall. The grasshopper, too, 
 chirps with his merry note in the concert, and the 
 humming bee plays *' his hautbois " to their tripping 
 on the green ; as the small stream, on whose banks 
 they hold their sports, seems to share their hilarity, 
 and talks and dances as well as they in emulation of 
 the revelry; whilst it shows through its crystal 
 v/aters a gravelly bed as bright as burnished gold, 
 the jewel-house of fairy land; or else the pretty 
 stream lies sparkling in the moonbeam, for no hour 
 is so dear to pixy revels as that in which man sleeps, 
 and the queen of night, who loves not his mortal 
 gaze, becomes a watcher. 
 
 It is under the cold and chaste light of her beams.
 
 174 FAIRY STORIES, [lET. 
 
 or amidst the silent shadows of the dark rocks, where 
 that hght never penetrates, that on the moor the 
 elfin king of the pixy race holds his high court of 
 sovereignty and council. There each pixy receives 
 his especial charge : some are sent, like the spirit 
 Gathon of Cornwall, to work the will of his master 
 in the mines ; to show by sure signs where lies the 
 richest lode ; or sometimes to delude the unfortunate 
 miner, who may not be in favour, with false fires, 
 and to mock his toils, by startling him with sounds 
 within the bed of the rocks, that seem to repeat, stroke 
 for stroke, the fall of the hammer which he wields, 
 whilst his labours are repaid by the worst ore in the 
 vein ; and then the elfin Avill mock his disappointment 
 with a wild laugh, and so leave him to the silence 
 and solitude of his own sad thoughts, and to those 
 fears of a power more than natural, not the less ap- 
 prehended, because it takes no certain or distinct 
 form, and is liable to be regulated by so much wanton 
 ca])rice. Other pixies are commissioned on better 
 errands than these ; since, nice in their own persons, 
 for they are the avowed enemies of all sluts or 
 idlers, they sally forth to see if the maidens do 
 their duty \vith mop and broom ; and if these cares 
 are nealected — 
 
 "&' 
 
 " To pincli the maids as blue as bilberry, 
 For Mab, fair queen, hates sluts and sluttery." 
 
 The good dames in this part of the world arc very 
 particular in sweeping their houses before they go to 
 bed, and they will frequently place a basin of water 
 by the chimney nook, to accommodate the pixies, who 
 are great lovers of water; and sometimes they requite 
 the good deed by dropping a piece of money into the
 
 X.] FAIRY STORIES. 175 
 
 basin. A young woman of our to\vn, who declared 
 she had received the reward of sixpence for a 
 like ser\dce, told the circumstance to her gossips ; 
 but no sixpence ever came again ; and it was gene- 
 rally believed the pixies had taken offence by her 
 chattering, as they like not to have their deeds, 
 good or evil^ talked over by mortal tongues. 
 
 Many a pixy is sent out on works of mischief, to 
 deceive the old nurses and steal away young children, 
 or to do them harm. This is noticed by Ben Jonson 
 in his "Masque of Queens." 
 
 " Under a cradle I did creep 
 By day ; and, when the childe was a-sleepe 
 At night, I suck'd the breath ; and rose 
 And pluc-k'd the nodding nurse by the nose." 
 
 Many, also, bent solely on mischief, are sent forth 
 to lead poor travellers astray, to deceive them with 
 those false lights called Will-o'-the-wisp, or to guide 
 them a fine dance in trudging home through Avoods 
 and waters, through bogs and quagmires, and every 
 peril ; or, as Eobin Goodfellow says, to 
 
 " Mislead night wanderers, laughing at their harms." 
 
 Others, who may be said to content themselves with a 
 practical joke, and who love frolic more than mischief, 
 will merely make sport by blowing out the candles 
 on a sudden, or kissing the maids "A\dth a smack," 
 as they "shriek out who's this?" as the old poet 
 writes, till their grandams come in, and lecture them 
 for allowing unseemly freedoms with their bachelors. 
 Some are dispatched to frolic or make noises in wells; 
 and the more gentle and kindly of the race will spin 
 flax and help their favourite damsels to do their work. 
 I have heard a story aboiit an old woman in this town.
 
 \, 
 
 176 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. 
 
 who suspected slie received assistance of the above 
 nature, and one evening coming suddenly into the 
 room, she spied a ragged little creature, who jumped 
 out at the door. She thought she would try still 
 further to win the services of her elfin friend ; and so 
 bought some smart new clothes, as big as those made 
 for a doll. These pretty things she placed by the 
 side of her wheel : the pixy returned and put them 
 on ; when clapping her tiny hands in joy, she was 
 heard to exclaim these lines (for pixies are so poeti- 
 cal, they always talk in rhyme), — 
 
 Pixy fine, pixy gay, 
 Pixy now will ran away. 
 
 And off she went ; but the ungrateful little creature 
 never spun for the poor old woman after. 
 
 The wcked and thievish elves, who are all said to 
 be squint-eyed, are dispatched on the di'eadful errand 
 of changing children in the cradle. In such cases (so 
 say our gossips in Devon) the pixies use the stolen 
 child just as the mortal mother may happen to use 
 the changehng dropped in its stead. I have been as- 
 sured that mothers, who credited these idle tales, 
 (and it must be allowed they are very poetical and 
 amusing,) have been known sometimes to pin their 
 children to their sides in order to secure them; 
 though even this precaution has proved vain, so 
 cunning are the elves. I heard a story not long- 
 ago, about a woman who lived and died in this town, 
 and who most solemnly declared that her mother 
 had a child that was changed by the pixies, whilst 
 she, good dame, was busied in hanging out some 
 linen to dry in her garden. She almost broke her 
 heart on discovering the cheat, but took the greatest
 
 X.] FAIRY STORIES. 177 
 
 care of the changeling ; which so pleased the pixy 
 mother, that some time after she returned the stolen 
 child, who was ever after very lucky. 
 
 A j^ixy house (and presently I shall give an 
 account of a grand one which Mr. Bray visited at 
 Sheep's Tor) is often said to he in a roclc : some- 
 times, however, a mole-hill is a palace for the elves ; 
 or a hollow nut, cracked by the "joiner squirrel," 
 ^\ill contain the majesty of pixy land. And Dray- 
 ton, who writes of these little poetical beings as if 
 he were the chosen laureate of their race, thus 
 describes their roval dv>'ellino: : 
 
 " The walls of spiders legs are made, ' 
 "Well morticed and finely laid, 
 He was the master of his trade 
 
 It curiously that biiilded : 
 The windows of the eyes of cats, 
 And for a roof, instead of slats, 
 Is cover'd with the skins of bats, 
 With mooushiue that are gilded.'' 
 
 And then for the royal equipage of fairy land wc 
 have the following beautiful description ; which is so 
 similar to that of Shakspeare's Queen jMab, that we 
 are almost tempted to conckidc, either that Drayton 
 borrowed from Shakspeare, or our great dramatist 
 from him : both, it will be recollected, wrote and 
 died in the reign of James I. 
 
 "Her chariot ready straight is made, 
 Eiich thing therein is fitting laid, 
 That she by nothing might be staid. 
 
 For nought must he her letting: 
 Four nimble gnats the hursi^s were, 
 Their harnesses of gossamere, 
 Fly Cranion, her charioteer, 
 Upon the coach-box getting. 
 
 i5
 
 178 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. 
 
 Her chariot of a snail's fine shell, 
 Which for the colours did excel), 
 The fair Queen Mab becoming well; 
 
 So lively was the limning ; 
 The seat the soft wool of the bee. 
 The cover (gallantly fo see) 
 The w ing of a pied butterflee. 
 
 I trow, 'twas simple trimming ! 
 
 The wheels composed of crickets' bones, 
 And daintily made for the nonce, 
 For fear of rattling on the stones. 
 
 With thistle-down the}- shod it : 
 For all her maidens much did fear 
 If Oberon had chanced to hear 
 That Mab his queen should have been there, 
 
 He would not have abode it." 
 
 Her attendants are thus mounted : — 
 
 " Upon a grass-hopper they got, 
 And what with amble and with trot, 
 For hedge nor ditch they spared not, 
 
 But after her they hie them ; 
 A cobweb over them they throw. 
 To shield the wind if it should blow, 
 Themselves they wisely could bestow, 
 Lest any should espy them." 
 
 I know not how it is, but Draj'ton seems to have 
 fallen into sad neglect ; yet, let any one but open 
 his fairy tale of Pigwiggin, and if he can close the 
 book before reading it to an end, that man must have 
 but little poetry in his soxd. In tlie legend of the 
 Owl, also, though somewhat tedious, perhaps, at the 
 commencement, the terse and animated manner in 
 which, in a few lines, he paints the character of the 
 various birds, is such as White, the immortal author 
 of " Selborne," would have fully appreciated, had he 
 had the good luck to be acquainted with that poem. 
 
 Before I quit the subject of fairy verse, 1 cannot 
 resist observing, that Mr. Bray, when a mere youth,
 
 X.] FAIRY STORIES. 179 
 
 was so much delighted Avith the pixy lore of his 
 native country, that he vncote some elfin tales ; which, 
 if I may be allowed to say so, would not have dis- 
 graced an older or more practised poet. He then 
 had never seen the worhs of Drayton : but in one of 
 the tales, called " Conrade and Phoebe" (which I 
 would give here, but he says it is too long for my 
 letter), I find the folloAving description of a fairy car, 
 that I think bears some resemblance to the spirit of 
 Drayton, and, I feel assured, will not displease you. 
 The elfin queen is about to transport Conrade, an 
 unfortunate, but favoured mortal, to recover his lost 
 mistress : — 
 
 '•' Her iv'ry wand aloft she rears, 
 And sudden from the sky appears 
 
 A silver car in view ; 
 By dragons drawn, whose scales were gold ; 
 It lighten'd as their eyes they roll'd. 
 
 And through the ether flew. 
 
 With Conrade in the car she springs, 
 The dragons spread their radiant wings, 
 
 And, when she slacks the reins, 
 Swifter than lightning upward rise ; 
 Then dart along the yielding skies, 
 
 And spurn the earthly plains. 
 
 Her train, as dew-drops of the morn, 
 Suspended on the flow'ry thorn. 
 
 Hang round the flying car; 
 Young Conrade, though he soar'd on high. 
 Still downward bent his wond'ring eye. 
 
 And view'd the earth afar. 
 
 As oft the eagle, 'mid the skies, 
 Below a timid dove espies, 
 
 And darts to seize his prey. 
 The dragons thus, at length, no more 
 With heads to heaven directed soar. 
 
 But earthward bend their way."
 
 180 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. 
 
 However, I am digressing, and talking about 
 Drayton and my husband, when I ought to be " tell- 
 ing about nothing but a real pisgie tale," as the 
 children say here, Avhen they sit round the fa'e and 
 listen to the legends of their grandmothers. In 
 collecting these anecdotes respecting the pixy race, 
 I must acknowledge my obligations to Mary Col- 
 ling, the amiable young woman whose little verses 
 you so kindly noticed, and whose artless attempts 
 have also been so favourably received by her friends 
 and the public* Mary, to oblige me, chatted with 
 the village gossips, or listened to their long stories ; 
 and the information thus gained was no small addi- 
 tion to my own stock of traditions and tales " of the 
 olden time." Some of these will be given in the course 
 of my letters to Keswick, though a. few I must hold 
 back, because, having already commenced (though I 
 know not if I shall ever find health sufficient to 
 complete it) a series of tales of the west, founded on 
 tradition, of which " Fitz of Fitzford "' was the first, I 
 must not spoil what little interest I maj- raise in any 
 such works, by telling the leading point of the story 
 beforehand; a custom which, though rendered popu- 
 lar by a great and successful example, injures, per- 
 haps, the interest of what follows in the narrative. 
 For this reason you will not have the legend of 
 Jfarh'igli in these letters, as I have finished my tale 
 founded upon it, and hope when I get better to 
 make some arrangements to enable me to send it to 
 you in print; and I fear the legend of Cotele mvist 
 be witjiheld for the same purpose. But as I pre- 
 sume not to encroach upon fairy land, all the J)ixy 
 
 * Sec Fables and other Pieces in Verse, by Mary Maria Colling j 
 piiblibhi;(l by LoiigmLiii and Co., London.
 
 X.] FAIRY STORIES. 
 
 ISl 
 
 tales I can gather shall be at your service ; and here 
 follow some of them. 
 
 It is reported that in days of yore, as well as in 
 the present time, the wild waste of Dartmoor was 
 much haunted by spirits and pixies in every direc- 
 tion; and these frequently left their own especial 
 domain to exercise their mischievous propensities 
 and orambols even in the town of Ta^•istock itself, 
 though it was then guarded by its stately abbey, 
 well stocked with monks, who made war on the pixy 
 race with " bell, book, and candle " on every oppor- 
 tunity. And it is also averred, that the devil (who, 
 if not absolutely the father, is assuredly the ally of 
 all mischief) gave the pixies his powerfid aid in all 
 matters of delusion ; and would sometimes carry his 
 audacity so far as to encroach even upon the vene- 
 rable precincts of the abbey grounds, always, how- 
 ever, carefully avoiding the holy water ; a thing which, 
 like the touch of Ithuriel's spear to the toad in 
 Paradise, would mfallibly transform him from any 
 outward seeming into his own proper shape and 
 person. But of late years the good people here 
 affirm (though I know not why they should do so, 
 but as an historian I am bound to be faithful, and 
 to oive facts rather than comments), that, by means 
 of the clergy being more learned than formerly, 
 and the burial service being so much enlarged to 
 what it was in other days, the spirits are more closelj^ 
 bound over to keep the peace, and the pixies are 
 held tolerably fast, and conjured away to their own 
 domains. 
 
 The yjixies, however much they may have been 
 deified by the Druids, or northern nations, were 
 never, I believe, considered as saints in any Ca-
 
 182 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. 
 
 tliolic calendar ; tliougli it is affirmed that they have 
 so great a respect for a church that they never come 
 near one. Some very good sort of people, calUng 
 themselves Christians, do the same even in these 
 days : but whether it be from so respectful a motive, 
 is perhaps somewhat questionable. Pixies, then, are 
 said to congregate together, even by thousands, in 
 some of those wild and desolate places where there 
 is no church. Various are the stories told about 
 these noted personages : amongst others, that in 
 a field near Down-house, there is a pit which the 
 pixies, not very long ago, appropriated for their ball- 
 room. There, in the depth of night, the owl, who 
 probably stood as watchman to the company, would 
 hoot between whiles ; and sounds, such as never 
 came from mortal voice or touch, would float in the 
 air, making " marvellous sweet music ; " Avhilst the 
 "elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves," 
 would whirl in giddy round, making those " rings, 
 whereof the ewe not bites/' that have for ages puz- 
 zled the conjectures of the wisest and most grave 
 philosophers, to account for them according to the 
 natural order of things. 
 
 Whitchurch Down (a favourite ride with me and 
 my pony ; for it sometimes is a hard matter to get 
 him into any other road, — but of his adventures and 
 my own more hereafter) is said to be very famous 
 for the peril there incurred, of being piic?/-/er/; for 
 there many an honest yeoman and stout farmer, 
 especially if he should happen to take a cup too 
 mvich, is very apt to lose his way ; and whenever he 
 does so, he will declare, and offer to take his Bible 
 oath upon it, " That as sure as ever he's alive to tell 
 it, whilst his head was running round like a mill-
 
 X.] ' " FAIRY STORIES. 183 
 
 wheel, he heard vdih his own ears they bits of 
 pisgies, a laughing and a tacking their hands, all to 
 see he led astray, and never able to find the right 
 road, tho" he had travelled it scores of times long 
 agone, by night or by day, as a body might tell." 
 And many good old folks relate the same thing, 
 and how pisgies delight to lead the aged a wander- 
 ing about after dark. 
 
 But as most e\ils set men's wits to work to find 
 out a remedy for them, even so have we found out 
 ours in this part of the world against svich provoking 
 injuries. For whosoever finds himself or herself 
 pixy-led, has nothing more to do than to turn jacket, 
 petticoat, pocket, or apron inside out, and a pixy, 
 who hates the sight of any impropriety in dress, 
 cannot stand this ; and off the imp goes, as if, 
 according to the vulgar saying, he had been " sent 
 packing with a flea in his ear." Now this turning 
 of jackets, petticoats, &c., being found so good as a 
 remedy, was, like a quack doctor s potion, held to be 
 excellent as a preventive : and as some good mother 
 may now and then be prevailed with to give her dar- 
 ling Doctor Such-a-one's panacea to keep off a disease 
 before it makes its appearance, even so do our good 
 old towns-folk practise this turning inside out, ere 
 they venture on a walk after sun-down, near any 
 suspected place, as a certain preventive against 
 being led astray by a pixy. But pray listen to a 
 tale that is as true (so at least I am assured), aye, 
 as true as most tales that are told by gossips over 
 the "yule clog," to make the neighbours merry or 
 sad on a Christmas-eve. 
 
 Once upon a time there was, in this celebrated
 
 184 FAIRY STORIES, ' [lET. 
 
 town, a Dame Somebody, I do not know her name, 
 and as she is a real character, I have no right to give 
 her a fictitious one. All I with truth can say, is, 
 that she was old, and nothing the worse for that; 
 for age is, or ought to be, held in honour as the 
 source of wisdom and experience. Now this good 
 old woman lived not in vain, for she had passed her 
 days in the useful capacity of a nurse ; and as she 
 approached the term of going out of the world her- 
 self, she was still useful in her generation, by help- 
 ing others into it — she was, in fact, the Sage-fcmme 
 of the village ; for though I have the utmost dislike 
 to mixing up French, or any foreign words, with the 
 good, plain English of my native land, I here for 
 once venture on a French expression, because it is, 
 in certain particulars, considered as a refinement 
 so much in fashion, that I must not ventvu'c to neg- 
 lect it. 
 
 One night, about twelve o'clock in the morning, 
 as the good folks say avIio tell this talc. Dame Some- 
 body had just got comfortably into bed, when rap, 
 rap, rap came on her cottage door, with such bold, 
 loud, and continiied noise, that there was a sound of 
 authority in every individual knock. Startled and 
 alarmed by the call, she arose from her bed, and 
 soon learnt that the summons was a hasty one to 
 bid her attend on a patient who needed her help. 
 She opened her door ; when the summoner appeared 
 to be a strange, squint-eyed, little, ugly, old fellow, 
 who had a look, as she said, very like a certain dark 
 personage, who ought not at all times to be called 
 by his proper name. Not at all prepossessed in 
 favour of the errand by the visage of the messenger.
 
 X.] FAIRy STORIES. 185 
 
 she nevertheless could not, or dared not resist the 
 command to follow him straight, and attend upon 
 " his ■\\dfe." 
 
 '• Thy ^ife ! " thought the good dame : " Heaven 
 forgive me ; but as sure as I live I be going to the 
 birth of a little divel." A large coal-black horse, 
 with eyes like balls of fire, stood at the door. The 
 ilMooking old fellow, without more ado, whisked her 
 up on a high pillion in a minute, seated himself 
 before her, and away went horse and riders, as if 
 sailing through the air, rather than trotting on the 
 ground. How Dame Somebody got to the place of 
 her destination she could not tell; but it was a 
 great rehef to her fears when she found herself set 
 down at the door of a neat cottage, saw a couple of 
 tidy children, and remarked her patient to be a 
 decent-looking woman, having all things about her 
 fitting the time and the occasion. 
 
 A fine, bouncing babe soon made its appearance, 
 who seemed very bold on its entry into life, for it 
 gave the good dame a box on the ear, as, with the 
 coaxing and cajolery of all good old nurses, she 
 declared the " sweet little thing to be very like its 
 father." The mother said nothing to this, but gave 
 nurse a certain ointment with directions that she 
 should " strike the child's eyes Avith it." Now you 
 must know that this word strike in our Devonshire 
 vocabulary, does not exactly mean to give a blow, 
 but rather what is opposite, to rub, smooth down, or 
 touch gently. The nurse performed her task, though 
 she thought it an odd one : and as it is nothing 
 new that old nurses are generally very curious, she 
 wondered what it could be for ; and thought that, 
 as no doubt it was a good thing, she might just as
 
 186 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. 
 
 well tr)'^ it upon her own eyes as well as those of the 
 baby; so she made free to strike one of them by 
 way of trial ; when, O ! ye powers of fairy land, what < 
 a change was there ! 
 
 The neat, but homely cottage, and all who were 
 in it, seemed all on a sudden to tmdergo a mighty 
 transformation; some for the better, some for the 
 worse. The new-made mother appeared as a beau- 
 tiful lady attired in white ; the babe was seen 
 wrapped in swaddling clothes of a silvery gauze. 
 It looked much prettier than before, but still main- 
 tained the elfish cast of the eye, like his redoubted 
 father : whilst two or three children more had un- 
 dergone a metamorphosis as uncouth as that re- 
 corded by Ovid when the Cercopians were trans- 
 formed into apes. For there sat on either side the 
 bed's head, a couple of little flat-nosed imps, who 
 with " mops and mows," and with many a grimace 
 and grin, were "busied to no end"* in scratching 
 their own jjolls, or in pulling the fairy lady's ears 
 with their long and hairy paws. 
 
 The dame, who beheld all this, fearing she knew 
 not what in the house of enchantment, got away as 
 fast as she could, without saying one word about 
 "striking" her own eye vnth the magic ointment, 
 and what she had beheld in consequence of doing 
 so.* The sour-lookinc: old follow once more handed 
 her up on the coal-black horse, and sent her home in 
 a ivhip-sissa. Now what a whip-sissa means is more 
 than I can tell, though I consider myself to be tole- 
 
 * It has been the popular belief of all ages that no mortal can see 
 a fairy without his eyes being rubbed with a magic ointment. Corne- 
 lius Agrippa, if I remember right, though it is long since I have seen 
 his^book, gives a very amusing receipt for compounding such a salve.
 
 X.] FAIRY STORIES. 187 
 
 rably well acquainted with the tongues of this '' West 
 Countrie." It may mean, perhaps, " Whip, says he," 
 in allusion to some gentle intimation being feelingly 
 given by the rider to the horse's sides with a switch, 
 that he should use the utmost dispatch; but my 
 derivation of the word, like that of some better 
 etymologists on difficult occasions, may be a little far 
 fetched ; I, therefore, leave the point to be settled 
 by the learned. Certain it is, the old woman re- 
 turned home much faster than she went. But mark 
 the event. 
 
 On the next market-day, when she sallied forth to 
 sell her eggs, who should she see but the same, 
 wicked-looking old fellow, busied, like a rogue as he 
 was, in pilfering sundry articles from stall to stall. 
 
 "O! hoi" thought the dame, "have I caught 
 you, you old thief? But I'll let you see I could set 
 master mayor and the two town constables on your 
 back, if I chose to be telling." So up she went, 
 and with that bold free sort of air, which persons, 
 who have learnt secrets that ought not to be known, 
 are apt to assume when they address any great 
 rogue hitherto considered as a superior, she inquired 
 carelessly after his wife and child, and hoped both 
 were as well as could be expected. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the old pixy thief, " do you 
 see me to day?" 
 
 " See you ! to be sure I do, as plain as I see the 
 sun in the skies ; and I see you are busy into the 
 bargain." 
 
 " Do you so ! " cried he : " Pray with which eye do 
 you see all this ? " 
 
 " With the right eye to be sure." 
 
 " The ointment ! the ointment ! " exclaimed the
 
 188 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. 
 
 old fellow : " take that for meddling with what did 
 not belong to yon — you. shall see me no more." 
 
 He struck her eye as he spoke, .and from that hour 
 till the day of her death she was blind on the right 
 side; thus dearly paying for having gratified an idle 
 curiosity in the house of a pixy. 
 
 One or two stories more shall suffice for the pre- 
 sent ; for you know that queen of story-tellers, the 
 great Scheherazade, always made it a point to hold 
 something in reserve to disarm the wrath of the 
 sultan in an hour of peril. And though I do not 
 think there is so much danger of losing my head 
 (and I certainly am not good enough to write mth- 
 out it), as there may be that you should lose your 
 patience, yet I will even try once more which shall 
 tire first, you in reading, or I in relating, in this 
 letter, the very true and faithful history of all the 
 wonders, both natural and supernatural, of our never- 
 sulficiently-to-be-celebratcd county and its pixies. 
 And the following tale may somewhat remind you of 
 a merry little rogue, who, if he was not immortal 
 before, has certainly been rendered so by Shak- 
 spcarc — Kobin Goodfellovv'. It is not unlike one of 
 liis pranks. 
 
 Two serving damsels of this place declared, as an 
 excuse, perhaps, for spending more money than they 
 ought upon finery, that the pixies were very kind to 
 them, and wovild often drop silver for their pleasure 
 into a bucket of fair water, which they placed for the 
 accommodation of thos6 little beings every night, in 
 the chimney corner, before they went to bed. Once, 
 however, it was forgotten; and the pixies, finding 
 themselves disa])pointed by an empty bucket, wliisked 
 up stairs to the maid's bed-room, i)opped through
 
 X.] ' FAIRY STORIES. 189 
 
 the key-hole, and began in a very audible tone to 
 exclaim against the laziness and neglect of the 
 damsels. 
 
 One of them who lay awake, and heard all this, 
 jogged her fellow-servant, and proposed getting up 
 immediately to repair the fault of omission : but the 
 lazy girl, who liked not being disturbed out of a 
 comfortable nap, pettishly declared "that, for her 
 part, she would not stir out of bed to please all the 
 pixies in Devonshire." The good-humoured damsel, 
 however, got up, filled the bucket, and was rewarded 
 by a handful of silver pennies found in it the next 
 morniuir. But, ere that time had arrived, what was 
 her alarm, as she crept towards the bed, to hear all 
 the elves in high and stern debate, consulting as to 
 what punishment should be inflicted on the lazy 
 lass who Avould not stir for their pleasure. 
 
 Some proposed " pinches, nips, and bobs," others 
 to spoil her new cherry-colOured bonnet and ribands. 
 One talked of sending her the tooth ache, another of 
 ffivins: her a red nose : but this last was voted a too 
 severe and vindictive punishment for a pretty yovmg 
 woman. So, tempering mercy with justice, the pixies 
 were kind enough to let her off with a lame leg, 
 which was so to continue only for seven years, and 
 was alone to be cured by a certain herb, growing on 
 Dartmoor, whose long and learned and very difficult 
 name the elfin jvidge pronounced in a high and au- 
 dible voice. It was a name of seven syllables, seven 
 being also the number of years decreed for the 
 chastisement. 
 
 The good-natured maid, wishing to save her fellow 
 damsel so long a suflFering, tried with might and main 
 to bear in mind the name of this potent herb. She
 
 190 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. 
 
 said it over and over again, tied a knot in her garter 
 at every syllable, as a help to memory then very po- 
 pular, and thought she had the Avord as sure as her 
 own name ; and very possibly felt much more anxious 
 about retaining the one than the other. At length 
 she dropt asleep, and did not wake till the morning. 
 Now, whether her head might be like a sieve, that 
 lets out as fast as it takes in, or if the over-exer- 
 tion to remember might cause her to forget, cannot 
 be determined; but certain it is, when she opened 
 her eyes, she knew nothing at all about the matter, 
 excepting that Molly Avas to go lame on her right leg 
 for seven long years, unless a herb with a strange 
 name could be got to cure her. And lame she went 
 for nearly the whole of that period. 
 
 At length (it was about the end of the time), a 
 merry, squint-eyed, queer-looking boy, started up 
 one fine summer day, just as she went to pluck a 
 mushroom, and came tumbling, head over heels, 
 towards her. He insisted on striking her leg with 
 a plant which he held in his hand. From that 
 moment she got well ; and lame Molly, as a reward 
 for her patience in suffering, became the best dancer 
 in the whole town at the celebrated festivities of Mav 
 day on the green. 
 
 The following tale will be the last I shall send in 
 this letter : it Avould afford, perhaps, a good subject 
 for poetry. 
 
 Near a pixy field in this neighbourhood, there 
 lived on a time an old woman who possessed a cot- 
 tage and a very pretty garden, wherein she cultivated 
 a most beautiful bed of tulips. The pixies, it is tra- 
 ditionally averred, so delighted in this spot, that they 
 would carry their elfin babies tliithcr, and sing them
 
 X.] FAIRY STORIES. 191 
 
 to rest. Often, at the dead hour of the night, a sweet 
 lullaby Avas heard, and strains of the most melodious 
 music would float in the air, that seemed to owe their 
 origin to no other musicians than the beautiful tulips 
 themselves ; and wliilst these delicate flowers waved 
 their heads to the evening breeze, it sometimes seemed 
 as if they were marking time to their own singing. 
 As soon as the elfin babies were lulled asleep by such 
 melodies, the pixies would return to the neighbouring 
 field, and there commence dancing, making those 
 rings on the green, which showed, even to mortal 
 eyes, what sort of gambols had occupied them during 
 the night season. 
 
 At the first dawn of light, the watchful pixies once 
 more sought the tulips, and, though still invisible, 
 they could be heard kissing and caressing their 
 babies. The tulips, thus favoured by a race of genii, 
 retained their beauty mvich longer than any other 
 flowers in the garden ; whilst, though contrary to 
 their nature, as the pixies breathed over them, they 
 became as fragrant as roses ; and so delighted at all 
 this was the old woman who possessed the garden, 
 that she never sufiered a single tulip to be plucked 
 from its stem. 
 
 At length, however, she died ; and the heir who 
 succeeded her destroyed the enchanted flowers, and 
 converted the spot into a parsley bed, a circumstance 
 which so disappointed and offended the pixies, that 
 they caused it to wither away ; and, indeed, for many 
 years, nothing would grow in the beds of the whole 
 garden. But these sprites, though eager in resent- 
 ing an injury, were, like most warm spirits, equally 
 capable of returning a benefit ; and if they destroyed 
 the product of the good old woman's garden, when it
 
 192 FAIRY STORIES. [lET. X. 
 
 had fallen into unworthy hands, they tended the bed 
 that ^v^apped her clay with affectionate solicitude. 
 For they were heard lamenting- and singing sweet 
 dirges around her grave ; nor did they neglect to 
 pay this mournful tribute to her memory every night 
 before the moon was at the full ; for then their high 
 solemnity of dancing, singing, and rejoicing took 
 place, to hail the c|ucen of the night on completing 
 her silver circle in the skies. No human hand ever 
 tended the grave of the poor old woman, who had 
 nurtured the tulip bed for the delight of these elfin 
 creatures ; but no rank weed was ever seen to grow 
 upon it ; the sod was ever green, and the prettiest 
 flowers would spring up without sowing or planting, 
 and so they continued to do till it was supposed the 
 mortal body was reduced to its original dust. 
 
 And of pix}" legends I now, mcthinks, have given 
 you enough to prove that the people of this neigh- 
 bourhood, in the lower ranks of life (from whose chit- 
 chat all these were gleaned), possess, in no small 
 degree, a poetical spirit for old talcs. The upper, 
 and more educated classes, hold such stories as 
 unworthy notice ; and many would laugh at me for 
 having taken tlie trouble to collect and repeat them ; 
 but however wild and simple they may be, there is 
 so much of poetry and imagination in them, that I 
 feel convinced you v/ill consider them worthy of being 
 saved, by some written record, from that oblivion, to 
 which, in a few years, they would otherwise be inevi- 
 tably consigned. 
 
 I remain, my dear Sir, 
 
 very faithfully yours, 
 
 Akna Eliza Bray.
 
 193 
 
 LETTER XL 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — The danger of the sudden mists on Dartmoor — A letter 
 mentioned, written on the subject by the late Mr. Edward Smith, who 
 was enveloped in one on Mistor — Mr. E. Smith, a man of talents, 
 very unfortunate — His family of old standing in the county — Cha- 
 racter of his father — A sketch of him given — His children distin- 
 guished for talent — Edward, the youngest, the most gifted and least 
 prudent— Some account of him — His early career — At sea — Returns 
 — Goes to AVadham College — The peculiar powers of his mindstated 
 — Determines to turn author — His first projected Work — His merits 
 and defects as a writer — Some mention of celebrated persons who 
 have commenced their career at various ages of their lives — The 
 character and misfortunes of Edward Smith — His marriage — His 
 children — His distresses — The death of his wife — Of his infant — Of 
 his youngest child — Affecting circumstance at the grave on his 
 attending the funeral — His own death at the age of twenty-seven — 
 His letter, with his interesting account of his visit to Mistor. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, Apnl oOth, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I ME^"TIO^■ED in my last letter the dense mists 
 with which travellers were often in danger of being 
 enveloped during their journey over Dartmoor, and 
 that I had no doubt such mists occasioned those 
 wanderings out of the right road, which gave rise to 
 the popular belief of being pixy led. On looking 
 over my husband's papers about the moor, I find a 
 very interesting letter addressed to him, by the late 
 Mr. Edward Smith of this town, a young man who 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 EDWARD SMITH. [lET. 
 
 possessed considerable natural talents, and who once 
 intended writing a history of his native place ; for 
 which (although I have never seen them) he made, 
 as I am told, some interesting collections. 
 
 We well knew poor Smith, who died, I believe, 
 of a broken heart; and whose sad sufferings and 
 misfortunes were, in a great degree, the .result 
 of imprudence. But he is gone — there are many 
 who have dwelt upon his errors and his faults, but 
 let me, though I. was not blind to these, rather 
 here speak of his good qualities, for he had many. 
 Ever since his death I have entertained a wish to 
 pay some tribute of sympathy to his memory ; and, 
 now that he lies in an early grave, to ask for him, 
 what he can no longer ask for himself, mercy from 
 the world, for his errors, and that some charity be 
 shown to one, who, in the midst of all his faults, had 
 a heart capable of warm affections and sincere grati- 
 tude; feelings that never can exist where there is 
 not at least a capability of virtue. Before I give 
 you, therefore, a copy of Edward Smith's letter, (and 
 it is the only one of his in our possession that would 
 be likely to interest a third person,) I shall say some- 
 thing about liim. His family, indeed, especially in 
 two of its members, are deserving notice in the bio- 
 graphy of this place ; and though I mention him 
 here, even if it be a little out of rule, it is not of 
 much consequence, for you will read the letter with 
 more interest when you know some few particulars 
 respecting the deceased writer. 
 
 1 have often heard him state that the Smiths of 
 Tavistock were a very old family in the county of 
 Devon, and, in some branch or other, related to the 
 noble house of Edgcumbc. I also understood that
 
 XI.] BARBER SMITH. 195 
 
 they had suifered the loss of property by espousing 
 the cause of the unfortunate and injured Charles I. 
 They sunk in the world, and became poor in con- 
 sequence : but poverty from such a cause is as glori- 
 ous to the descendants of an honourable family', as 
 was the battered armour and ragged pennon to the 
 knight banneret of old ; who, when a certain new- 
 made and new-cased votary of chivalry treated 
 somewhat contemptuously the older knights shabby 
 appearance in the tournament at court, vouchsafed 
 the silken aspirant no other answer than"' tMs : — 
 "My arms and banner have seen the field of Agin- 
 court ! " 
 
 I do not know any minute particulars respecting 
 this family at an early period : for little did I think 
 when poor Smith told me, as we one day walked 
 under the abbey walls in our garden, the few anec- 
 dotes here mentioned, that I should ever live to 
 become his biographer ! He was then not five and 
 twenty years old, and full of health, spirit, and am- 
 bition. I remember well that he used to say liis 
 maternal grandfather had been the parish clerk of 
 Tavistock. I believe it was one great object of 
 his literar}^ ambition (and who could blame him for 
 it, had he lived to accomplish his A-iews ?) to show the 
 world that he had still the spirit of his loyal ances- 
 tors within him, which had survived, in blood at 
 least, their change of fortune. 
 
 So much had his family fallen, that his father for 
 years was a barber of this place. I have heard he 
 was a cheerful, sharp-^vitted man, sang an excellent 
 comic song, and was both an amusing and original 
 character : as. in fact, Avere many of the barbers of the 
 old school. Barber Smith (for so was he called) by 
 
 k2
 
 196 BARBER SMITH. [lET. 
 
 all accounts was a clever, bustling fellow, who made 
 a pleasant mode of telling news and collecting gene- 
 ral intelligence a part of his business. His avoca- 
 tions brought him in contact with a vast variety of 
 characters ; and to entertain each customer, whilst he 
 sat under the operation of ha\4ng his chin lathered 
 and shorne, or of his hair being curled, fiizzed and 
 powdered, was, with him, an important point: it 
 enlarged his business — for he had a rival barber, 
 whose name was Tristram or Trim Physic, who, 
 as well as himself, was a very honest man — and liis 
 chit-chat made liis little daily \-isits of necessity an 
 agreeable occurrence with his various patrons; a 
 thing nothing wonderful — as in the country, if gen- 
 tlemen are not literary, they are apt sometimes to 
 feel the hours hang on hand, especially when rainy 
 weather interferes with their out-door amusements 
 or sports. 
 
 The happy genius of Barber Smith made him, 
 therefore, always welcome. The gouty old gentle- 
 man welcomed him as the man of news and infor- 
 mation, who could give the current notions of the 
 place in regard to the ministry and the affairs of the 
 nation. The squire learnt from him the earliest 
 report respecting what horses were to be entered to 
 run for the cup at the next races. The doctor had 
 the gratification to hear the generally received 
 opinion of his own success and skill : and the cler- 
 gyman heard how his Sunday's sermon went off, and 
 what the dissenters were doing, as likely to raise 
 themselves or oppose him in the parish. The justice 
 had the satisfaction of hcarine; the last cause tried 
 over again, as he submitted to the razor; and his 
 own settlement of the case as confidently asserted.
 
 XI.] BARBER SMITH. 197 
 
 as if confirmed by the twelve judges on the bench. 
 The good mothers too had then* share of the gossip, 
 and heard all the chit-chat about their neighbours, 
 as they seated their little boys on the high chair, and 
 held a bowl-dish on their heads, that Barber Smith 
 might snip round the brim, so as to leave not one 
 stray hair longer or shorter than another. 
 
 In truth, the good man was welcome to all, the 
 imivcrsal favourite. None thought him to be of 
 consequence enough to eclipse themselves ; and his 
 wit and talents, lieing of the good-humoured sort, 
 were admitted without envy. His presence brought 
 cheerfulness, and inspired no restraint ; and as the 
 love of novelty is a very general passion, how could 
 the folks do other than feel pleased with one who 
 alwa^'s carried with him a large stock of news .'' His 
 vocal powers, too, made him very popular : I have 
 often heard my husband say, that when a little boy, 
 he was allowed to go into the long-room (at the 
 great dinner of the court-leet given to the tenantry 
 and freeholders by the Duke of Bedford) to hear 
 ■with delight the comic songs of Barber Smith ; who, 
 in those davs, Avas the very INIathews of Ta\-istock. 
 This universal desire for his presence and conver- 
 sation rendered the worthy man exceedingly good 
 friends with himself; for, as it requires the very 
 head of an ancient philosopher not to grow some- 
 what intoxicated with popular applause, I must say, 
 from all I have heard, that Barber Smith was not a 
 little vain and conceited. Yet I speak it of him in 
 no disrespect ; for he Avas, unquestionably, a person 
 of worth in his station. 
 
 He died many years before I became an inhabit- 
 ant of Tavistock ; but I have no doubt of his merit :
 
 198 EDWARD SMITH, [lET. 
 
 for when I recollect that he had six sons — that the 
 eldest of these so raised liimsclf in the service of his 
 country (he died a major of marines) as to receive 
 the thanks of the House of Commons for liis gallant 
 and spirited conduct in quelling a mutiny ; that 
 Edward (the subject of this letter) struggled so far 
 successfully through the world as to become a stu- 
 dent at Wadham College, Oxford; that another 
 brother, a dissenting minister, attempted and pub- 
 lished a translation of some of the classics ; that a 
 fourth son, also a man of talent, became master of 
 a grammar-school in Devon ; that another has suc- 
 ceeded as a most respectable chemist ; and the last 
 brother is now, I believe, a thriving tradesman in 
 
 London 1 cannot help thinking the barber of a 
 
 cou^ntry town, whose children could thus raise them- 
 selves above the disadvantages of birth and station, 
 must have been himself a man of more than ordi- 
 nary merit ; and that in his own person he set them 
 the example of hoAv much is to be done by industry 
 and individual exertion. Edward, of all the brothers 
 the most gifted, was the least prudent, and conse- 
 quently the least fortunate. I regret I did not 
 learn more minutely the particulars of his early life. 
 I know he held some station in the navy ; but as, 
 when we first knew him, he was falling under that 
 cloud which finally overshadowed all his prospects, 
 we felt reluctance to make inquiries that would have 
 occasioned, perhaps, much pain to satisfy them. 
 All 1 can with truth say is, that his gallant brother, 
 the major, (who djdng suddenly at the inn here, 
 chanced to pass the last evening of his mortal pil- 
 grimage imder our roof,) told me that poor Edward 
 was, he behevcd, truly kind and feeling at heart.
 
 XI.] EDWARD SMITH. 199 
 
 but that he had been of a thoughtless, warm, and 
 irritable temper ; and, by some neglect of his minor 
 duties, and those forms of disciphne which are as 
 necessary to be observed by the gifted as by the 
 common mind, he had given offence to a superior, 
 and had lost, in consequence, that golden oppor- 
 tunity which, when once forfeited by a young man 
 in the outset of liis career, seldom \'isits him again 
 with the like prospect of success. The major spoke 
 this with every charitable allowance for his brother ; 
 and regretted he had died before he could retrieve 
 himself in the eye of the world. 
 
 He also told me that Edward Smith was for some 
 short time at Wadham College. I conclude liis 
 finances did not suffer him to remain there long 
 enough to profit much by his studies; He could hear 
 of no situation ; and as he had good talents, and was 
 a respectable antiquary, he determined to turn au- 
 thor for liis support. Tliis determination made him 
 seek the acquaintance and notice of Mr. Bray, who 
 received him vnih. every kindness, and did what he 
 could to fonvard and assist his pui'suits ; and Ed- 
 ward Smith ever returned his kindness with the 
 utmost gratitude and respect. He thought of 
 making his first work a history of the antiquities of 
 Ta\4stock: it was proposed to dedicate it to the 
 Duke of Bedford, and to publish it by subscription. 
 Many names were obtained in its support. 
 
 At that time he was frequently at the Vicarage ; 
 and we never saw him without having cause to 
 remark the lively and acute powers of his mind. 
 He was (what all authors ought to be) a great 
 reader ; and he read aloud with peculiar feeling and 
 energy. He had a strong memory, reflected on
 
 200 EDWARD SMITH. [lET. 
 
 what he read, and possessed so clear an arrange- 
 ment of the knowledge he thus gamed, that he could 
 always applv it with effect. He had been much 
 abroad, and could give a very interesting account of 
 what he had observed in his wanderings. The spe- 
 cimen I shall here send you of his Avriting is one of 
 the best I have ever seen from his pen. Its merit, I 
 am inclined to think, arises from its not having been 
 tvritten for publication ; for Smith, as a young author, 
 fell into a common error, which time and a good 
 critic would have cured — he thought it necessary to 
 AVTite for the public press in a different manner to 
 that he would have adopted if MTiting for a private 
 or familiar reader ; the consequence was, (at least in 
 the little I ever heard him read of what he wrote,) 
 that his style Avas somewhat inflated and affected, 
 though he knew how to choose his matter well 
 enough. I mention this in no disparagement of his 
 merit. Many writers of talent, especially in the 
 present day, have AvilfuUy steered for the same rock 
 instead of avoiding it; and many, calling them- 
 selves critics, have, been too imskilful to point out 
 the danger to those whom thc}- think themselves 
 fully competent to guide. To say whether the 
 talents of Smith (which were most conspicuous in 
 conversation) would, or would not, have produced 
 any lasting fruits as an author, is now impossible to 
 decide. He had certainly strong and original 
 powers of thinking and expression ; but he died 
 before any work was completed or published. We 
 see in the very highest order of writers, that excel- 
 lence in composition shows itself at very different 
 and unequal periods. Chatterton, that " marvellous 
 boy," produced his extraordinary Avorks and died
 
 Xr.] EDWARD SMITH. 201 
 
 before he was twenty. Young, on the contrary, did 
 not produce his "Night Thoughts" till he was 
 turned of sixty. Richardson (if my memory is 
 faithful) Avas about that age when he wrote his first 
 novel. Miss Fanny Kemble has -wTitten a power- 
 ful tragedy at eighteen ; S\\ift never wrote at all 
 till he was four and thirty ; and Pope produced his 
 best work (for so Johnson considers his "Essay on 
 Criticism") when he was twenty. To say, therefore, 
 what a person possessed of superior talents may or 
 may not achieve, if he be cut off in liis youth, is im- 
 possible. 
 
 Such were the misfortunes, perhaps I may add the 
 imprudence of Smith, that the necessities of to-day 
 interfered with the prospects of to-morrow. He 
 was obliged to solicit some of his subscriptions 
 before the work could be committed to the press ; 
 and living on what he received, he could never find 
 means to set the engravers and printers upon their 
 task, for his work was not of that nature to secure 
 publication on the bookseller s risk. The Duke of 
 Bedford, I know, kindly sent him thirty pounds in 
 the hope to forward it ; liis brothers, especially the 
 major, gave him frequent assistance ; Mr. John Car- 
 penter, of Mount Tavy, was, to the last, his generous 
 benefactor ; and he had other friends who did what 
 they could to relieve him. 
 
 But to live entirely on soliciting and receiving the 
 casual help of friends is ncitlier wholesome for the 
 moral nor the intellectual cliaracter; it blunts the 
 best feelings of a man, by sinking in him the honest 
 pride of independence, which is as the safeguard of 
 honour ; it sours and irritates the temper (especially 
 in a mind conscious of superior talents), and makes 
 
 k5
 
 202 EDWARD SMITH. [lET. 
 
 the dependent acutely alive to every petty pain, 
 so that ho is on the watch to take offence. A word 
 is often misconstrued, and received as a reproach to 
 liis necessities, when it is only intended as a warn- 
 ing to his imprudence : wliilst, fearful of losing one 
 atom of that respect which is due to the powers of 
 liis mind, he is apt sometimes to lay claim to it with 
 a high hand ; and the world, like most givers, is 
 inclined to A\-ithhold from a demand, what it would 
 freely bestow, if left to itself, as a tribute paid to 
 merit, but not on compulsion. 
 
 Poor Smith suffered in every way by his early 
 imprudence ; since, to add to his distresses, he mar- 
 ried a young woman of this place, who. hke liimself, 
 had notliing. And two children brought with them 
 an accession to their fathers anxieties, and such an 
 additional call on the assistance of his relatives and 
 friends, that none could sufficiently help him, so as 
 to set him free from his accumulated necessities. 
 His poverty, hkewise, had compelled him at times 
 to receive some trifling countenance or assistance 
 from little and \"ulgar minds ; and as to persons of 
 this description superiority is an offence, they en- 
 joyed the petty triumph of making the man of talent 
 feel, in his distress, that it was their turn to be su- 
 perior. I once heard poor Smith truly say (and I 
 believe almost the same thing was spoken by Savage 
 in liis adversity), " that a guinea sul)scription to his 
 book gave no man a right to insult him, or to force 
 upon him dictation and advice when unsought for;" 
 the advice, too, being often given more to show conse- 
 qvience in the adviser than to l^enefit the object of it. 
 Tliis led to warfare ; and Smitli \\ as of a temper, like 
 that seen in some wild creatures in the animal world.
 
 XI.] EDWARD SMITH. 203 
 
 where a blow will raise their fury, rather than tame 
 their spirit ; so that he retorted angrily, instead of 
 attempting by mildness to turn away wTath. 
 
 Misery, also, had been to him like the hair shirt 
 to the religionist of Eome ; not a wound to kill, but 
 a fi-etting and irritating suffering. It affected his 
 temper, and made him take up imprudent arms in 
 his own cause; for the slightest contempt he re- 
 turned vnili bitterness. This bitter invective I 
 believe was often deserved by his enemies : it was 
 therefore the more keenly felt and resented; and 
 those who triumphed over a superior mind because 
 that mind was in misery, soon found they had no- 
 thing to fear ; for the poor are generally the power- 
 less. For my OAvn part, I could never think of Smith, 
 in liis last struggles with the Avorld, without being 
 strongly reminded of the poet Savage, whose life, 
 from the pen of Johnson, none but a heart of stone 
 could read unmoved. Savage lived to raise a great 
 name as an author ; Smith died before liis abilities 
 produced any lasting memorial of his name: but 
 both have left an example, the one in pubHc, the 
 other in private life, that (to use the words of the 
 admirable biographer of the poet) "no superior 
 apacity or attainments can supply the place of want 
 of prudence ; and that neghgence and irregularity, 
 long continued, render even knowledge itself useless, 
 and genius contemptible." 
 
 So far truth, for the sake of others, obhged even 
 the enlarged charity of Johnson — a charity, that, like 
 his piety and life, did honour to human nature — to 
 declare of Savage, whom he pitied and regarded in 
 the midst of all his errors. But Johnson had that 
 discrimination as well as goodness which could de-
 
 204 EDWARD SMITH. [lET. 
 
 tect tlie germ of \-irtuous feelings amidst the mldest 
 growth that may be found in the shiggard's garden 
 of folly and of \'ice. The naturalist, in the darkest 
 night, will pause to look with pleasure on the solitary 
 ray of light emitted by the little glow-worm as it lies 
 on the lowly turf: the great moralist did the same — 
 one spark of good never escaped liis-searching eye. 
 So may it be with all (however inferior their powers 
 or their capacity) who attempt to record the charac- 
 ter of the dead. For the example of the living, for 
 the honour due to God, for the just demands of truths 
 no vice should be ever sophisticated into a A-irtue ; 
 for such is but " seeming." But where human frailty 
 (the consequence more of imprudence than a wicked 
 heart) produces distress ; where that frailty has been 
 exposed to suffer increase by the manifold tempta- 
 tions of poverty and want, there, (in the name of Him 
 who was all mercy, who took on himself the lowest 
 estate to show an example of long suffering to the 
 poor.) there let charity be extended in the most en- 
 larged degree. May such a consideration (and it has 
 trulv guided me in this slight and imperfect sketch of 
 the character of poor Edward Smith) weigh with all 
 who judged him harshly in life, and have not spared 
 him even in the grave. A few lines' more A\'ill show 
 what hastened liim to where he indeed has wearily 
 sunk to rest. 
 
 After ha\dng given birth to two children. Smith's 
 wife, whose health was delicate, fell into a decline. 
 During the early part of her illness, as .she and her 
 husband were one day playing with the elder infant, 
 at the very moment it was in the fathers arms, and 
 smiling in his face, it Suddenly and instantaneously 
 expired. The shock increased Mrs. Smith's illness ;
 
 XI.] EDWARD SMITH. 205 
 
 it was soon pronounced fatal; and I have heard 
 distress of mind helped to bring on her first indis- 
 position. Life became to her a long and lingering 
 disease ; for youth and nature struggled hard with 
 her decay. And now the amiable part of poor 
 Edward Smith's character showed itself in the most 
 marked manner — he devoted himself to her comfort, 
 with the zeal of the most ardent affection. All he 
 had (so I have learned since his death), even to his 
 books, (and what a sacrifice was that to him !) were 
 sold one by one, to procure her every relief. He 
 never left her by day, and at night he would watch 
 by her sick-bed with all the tenderness of the most 
 anxious care. So ill was she, yet so painfully did she 
 linger on, that I have been assured, for some weeks 
 before her death, he never enjoyed one night's un- 
 disturbed repose. I have also heard that he had 
 drawn so continually on the bounty of his friends, 
 that he concealed his extreme wants at the very hour 
 when relief was most needed. 
 
 At length his wife died ; and left him with the 
 youngest helpless infant. It was affecting to hear 
 how the poor father, on the day of her death, woidd 
 take the cliildin liis arms, endeavouring to recall the 
 li\dng image of its mother by looking in its face ; un- 
 conscious as it was of the ^vidowed grief and the deso- 
 lation of that father's heart. He was relieved of this 
 care ; for, as the child was so very young, a relation 
 of the mother took it home. I have again but this 
 day heard, from one who was nearly connected \^'ith 
 him, the account of the deep melancholy that settled 
 on his mind from the hour of his Anfe's death. He 
 frequently visited her grave, and gave himself up to 
 such a state of despondency during those ^"isits, that.
 
 206 EDWARD SMITH. [lET. 
 
 at lengthy a friend would watch him, and follow after 
 to draw him from the spot. For some little time, 
 however, he endeavoured to rally his spirits ; and 
 being universally pitied, he was not deserted in his 
 misery; though he now shunned observation, and 
 even kindness, as much as he could. But the earthly 
 cup of sorrow, of whose bitterness he had tasted 
 even at its brim, was not yet drained to the very 
 dregs — there was yet a draught in store for him. 
 His last child died; and that he followed to the 
 grave. Well might he say of death, as did the 
 melancholy poet of the night, 
 
 Insatiate archer I could not one suffice P 
 
 Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ! 
 
 It is the custom in this town, for young women 
 clothed in white, with a handkerchief drawn through 
 the coffin rings (underhand, as it is called), to act as 
 bearers at a child's funeral. A young person, who 
 assisted in performing this office at the burial of poor 
 Smith's infant, gave me a very interesting account of 
 his demeanour on that sad day. He attended the 
 funeral, though all present were shocked to observe 
 his altered appearance. His eye, that had, in other 
 and happier days, possessed uncommon brightness 
 and Aivacity, was now sunk in his head — it was dim 
 and downcast. He was very pale and thin ; and all 
 energy and spirit seemed dead within liim. For 
 some time he stood over tlie grave, after the cere- 
 mony was concluded, in silence, contemplating tliat 
 earth which was about to close on all the nearest and 
 dearest of liis affections. The young person who 
 gave me this account was his school-fellow in their 
 infant days ; and had been well known to his de- 
 ceased wife. From long habits of acquaintance, she
 
 XI.] LETTER TO MR. BRAY. 207 
 
 ventured to speak to him, even in these moments, 
 some words of sympathy. She held out her hand as 
 she did so. He took it, grasped it, and looked at 
 her with an expression of such heart-rending distress, 
 as, she said, she should never forget ; but tears rose 
 in his eyes, and looking once more on the grave, he 
 said — " It A\ill yet hold another T' 
 
 Soon, indeed, was that other numbered with the 
 dead already gone before ; for the blow had been 
 struck that to liim, I doubt not, in the end, was 
 one of mercy. Not long after, he was seized with 
 a fever, the consequence of his recent sorrows and 
 the long-continued anxiety of liis distresses. At 
 first, hopes were entertained of his recovery; but 
 delirium came on, and all was soon over : for, on the 
 1st of January, 1827, he expired, in the 27th year of 
 his age. He was buried in the churchyard of his 
 native iovm of Tavistock. Since then, his amiable 
 and gallant brother has been laid to rest in the same 
 ground ; and I, who, excepting my husband, was the 
 last friend with whom he conversed but a few hours 
 before his death, pui*pose, in some future letter, to 
 give a brief account of his life, and to pay a tribute 
 of respect to his memory. 
 
 I here give you the extract from Mr. Edward 
 Smith's letter, addressed to my husband in 1823. 
 
 " On Tuesday, the 11th of August, about twelve 
 o'clock, I set out on a fishing excursion, to the river 
 Walkham, above Merrivale bridge. This part of 
 that romantic river is situated entirely on Dartmoor. 
 As soon as 1 reached the high lands under Coxtor, my 
 walk became highly interesting, from the peculiar 
 state of the weather : being one instant enveloped 
 in a blaze of light from an unclouded August sun.
 
 208 LETTER TO MR. BRAY. [lET. 
 
 and almost in the next shrouded in an impervious 
 foi 
 
 ^g- 
 
 " The weather, however, was favourable for fishing, 
 and reaching jNIcrrivale Hamlet about half after one, 
 I commenced ; the sport excellent — but having (pro- 
 mised to meet some friends at Prince Town to dinner 
 at five, I shut up my rod as soon as I had reached 
 the western foot of that immense hill, called, I be- 
 lieve, Mistor, whose eastern base conjoins A\ith Rundle 
 stone. At this spot I was probably about a mile 
 or mile and a half (following the rough and sinuous 
 course of the river) above IMerrivale bridge. An 
 idea struck me that ere I could reach across the hill 
 towards Prince Town, I might be caught in a fog, 
 but Avith a carelessness which I subsequently la- 
 mented, I determined on risking it. Up the moun- 
 tain, therefore, I stretched, but scarcely had I reached 
 a quarter of a mile, ere a cloud, dense, and dark, and 
 flaky, fell, as it were, instantly upon me. So sudden 
 was the envelopment, that it startled me. On every 
 side appeared whirling masses of mist, of so thick a 
 consistency, that it affected my very respiration. 
 I paused ; but impelled by some of those ill-defined 
 feelings which lead men to action, they know not why, 
 I determined to proceed — indeed, I fancied it would 
 be impossible I could err in describing a straight 
 line over the summit of the hill ; but in this I was 
 sufficiently deceived. 
 
 "• I stretched on, and the way seemed to lengthen 
 before me. At last I descried a few of those immense 
 fragnicnts of granite with which the summit Avas 
 strewed. Their appearance, through the illusive 
 medium of the fog, was wonderfully grand, wavy, 
 fantastic, and as if* possessing life. Although all
 
 XI.] MISTS ON DARTMOOR. 209 
 
 plane with the surface, such was the optical deception, 
 they appeared upright, each in succession perpendi- 
 cular — until I should arrive so close, that it required 
 almost the very touch to prove the deception. There 
 were, also, some scattered sheep, one here and there. 
 At the distance of twenty or thhty yards, for I am 
 sure I could distinguish nothing farther, they had 
 the appearance of a moving unshapen mass, infinitely 
 larger than reality. Every now and then, too, one 
 of these animals would start from the side of a block 
 of granite close to my feet, aifrighted — sometimes 
 w^th a screaming bleat, as if, like myself, filled with 
 surprise and awe. 
 
 " Arrived now, as I considered, on the summit, I 
 stood still and looked around — the scene was like one 
 of those darkly remembered dreams which illness, 
 produced by lassitude and grief, sometimes afflicts us 
 with — an obscure sense of a scene where we have 
 been darkly wandering on. There was above, be- 
 neath, and all around me, a mass, flaky, and at times 
 even rushing, of white fog — there is no colom' by 
 which it could be named — a sombre whiteness — a 
 darkness palpable and yet impalpable — that scrip- 
 tural expression best suits it, ' the very light was 
 darkness.' 
 
 " I bent my course onward : now amongst massy 
 fragments of granite, the playthings of the deluge, 
 and now among^st boo:s and rushes. I became im- 
 patient to catch some object familiar to me. I quick- 
 ened my pace ; but the farther I proceeded, the more 
 and more did the fog bewilder me. My eye-sight 
 became affected, my very brain began to whirl, till at 
 length I sat down from sheer incapabihty to walk 
 on.
 
 210 MISTS ON DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 " My situation was now painful, the evening was 
 rapidly approaching — the fog increased in murkiness, 
 and all hopes that it would clear away had vanished. 
 I looked around for some large fragment of stone, 
 under shelter of wliich to take up my quarters for the 
 night. I liad from exertion been hot even to excess, 
 I was now shivering and chilled. At length the 
 idea of maternal anxiety relative to where I might be 
 struck me, and I determined once more to advance. 
 Reflecting, from the boggy nature of the ground I 
 now trod, I had perhaps gone on towards the north, 
 I turned directly to the left and went s^^iftly forward. 
 The ground noAV began to inchne, and I suddenly 
 found myself descending a steep acclivity — presently 
 I heard the distant rushing of water ; I stopped to 
 calculate where it could be. At length I concluded 
 my former conjecture right, and that I had been all 
 this while toihng in a northerly instead of an easterly 
 direction from the mountains summit, and that I was 
 approaching a stream called Blackabrook. The 
 sound, however, enlivened me ; it was like the voice 
 of a conductor, a friend, and I pressed onward ; the 
 descent, however, was still steep, verv steep, and this 
 destroyed again the conjecture which I lately thought 
 sure : still I pressed on — when suddenly, so instan- 
 taneously that I can compare it to nothing save the 
 lifting of a veil, the fog rushed from me, and the 
 scene which opened induced me almost to doubt my 
 senses. At my feet the river Walkliam brawled 
 amongst the rocks scattered throughout its bed — at 
 my left Avas just sufficient of jMerrivale open to show 
 the eastern arch of its picturesque bridge, wliilst in 
 the distance the fantastic rocks of Vixen Tor were 
 still wreathed in mist. At my right, Avithin two or
 
 XI.] MISTS ON DARTMOOR. 211 
 
 three hundred yards, was the very spot I had first 
 quitted to ascend the mountain; and in my front 
 that grand tor at the back of Mcrrivale Hamlet rose 
 froA\Tiingly dark, its topmost ridges embosomed in 
 clouds, whose summits were gilded by the broad sun, 
 now rapidly descending behind them. 
 
 "■ The whole scene was like magic — even whilst 
 looking on it, it appeared to me a dream. 1 doubted 
 its reality — 1 covild not imagine, toiling up, then 
 across the summit, then down the sides of a rugged 
 mountain, how it was possible I covdd have retm-ned 
 to a spot from whence I even then felt almost sure I 
 had been continually receding. I had, moreover, 
 been full two hours and a half in progress, but still 
 the stubborn certainty was before me. 
 
 " I had actually walked up the mountain, taken a 
 complete circuit of its summit, and almost retraced 
 my steps down to the spot I first quitted. 
 
 " In an instant the fog enveloped me again — by 
 this time 1 had purchased experience. I therefore 
 quickly regained the banks of the river, traced its 
 stream, reached Merrivale bridge, and on once more 
 placing my foot on the beaten road, determined 
 never again to try the experiment of finding my 
 way across a trackless Dartmoor mountain when the 
 clouds were low about it." 
 
 So concludes poor Smith's letter to Mr. Bray. I 
 will not now add more than the assurance that 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Ever faithfully yours, 
 
 A. E. Bray.
 
 919 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents :— Visit to Vixen Tor— The Tor formed of three contiguous 
 lofty rocks — Different appearances of the rock in different situations 
 — These and the Tor described — Difficult of ascent — Rock basins 
 on its summit — Their probable uses — Borlase quoted — Logan stones 
 — Second visit to Vixen Tor some years after the first— Further ob- 
 servations on that remarkable ruck — Ascent made in 1831 by a 
 friend of the writer. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, May 2nd, 1832, 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I SEND you in tliis Mr. Bray's account of a 
 visit to Vixen Tor, extracted from his Journal of 
 1801. 
 
 " On the 17th of September, accompanied by a 
 friend, I left Tavistock early in the morning, mth 
 the intention of spending the day in viewing some 
 of the neighbouring tors of Dartmoor. As we ap- 
 proached the first, Coxtor, we found its head covered 
 Avith mist ; but as the horizon was clear behind us, 
 we concluded it was only a partial collection of 
 vapours, so frequently attracted by the lofty emi- 
 nences of the forest,* and expected that the wind, 
 which was very high, would soon dissipate them. 
 However, on proceeding, we found it was a wet mist, 
 
 * Tliough the whole of this uncultivated tract of country, from Cox- 
 tur, whicli is about three miles from Tavistock, is generally called 
 Dartmoor, the forest itself does not begin till we arrive at the distance 
 of six miles ; the intermediate parts being considered as commons 
 belonging to the different neighbouring parishes.
 
 LET. XII.] VIXEN TOR. 213 
 
 which soon spread over the country, and prevented 
 us from seeing more than a few feet before us. 
 
 " Before the turnpike road was made over the moor, 
 those who acted even as guides frequently lost their 
 way on this almost trackless desert, through the 
 sudden diffusion of the mist. AVhcn this was the 
 case, they generally wandered about in quest of 
 some river, as, by following the course of it, they 
 were sure at last of finding an exit to their inhospi- 
 table labyrinth. 
 
 " Since Coxtor, we understood, was principally en- 
 titled to attention for the extensive prospect it 
 afforded, we knew it would be fruitless now to 
 ascend it, and having determined to relinquish the 
 design of visiting the tors in regular succession, pro- 
 ceeded to Vixen Tor^ for the purpose of climbing to 
 the top of that lofty rock. My friend had formerly 
 effected it ; and the information he gave me of 
 having found an excavation or circular hollow on its 
 very summit, which coincided with the idea I had 
 formed of a Druidical basin, powerfully excited my 
 >vish to accomplish it. 
 
 "Vixen Tor presents itself to the eye from the road 
 leading from Tavistock to Moreton in a picturesque 
 and striking manner. Three contiguous lofty rocks 
 raise themselves from the middle of a spacious plain, 
 and, at different points of view, assume a vast variety 
 of fantastic appearances. Sometimes you may fancy 
 it bears a resemblance to a lion's head;, at others to 
 the bust of a man ; and when seen from the Moreton 
 road, it greatly resembles the Sphinx in the plains 
 of Egypt,* whilst the mountains beyond may give 
 no bad idea of the pyramids around it. 
 
 * Mr. Burt, in his Notes on Carrington's Dartmoor, published more
 
 214 
 
 VIXEN TOR. 
 
 [let. 
 
 
 Fixen Tor, as seen from the Moretofi road, in the view resembling 
 
 the Sphinx, 
 
 Eidiculous as it may appear, I can never \\evf it 
 from one particular point, \vithout thinking on the con- 
 venient but grotesque mode of riding on horseback, 
 which is, I believe, more generally practised in the 
 West of England than in any other part of the king- 
 dom, called riding double. A horse that carries double 
 is esteemed as valuable in this part of the world, as, 
 in any other, may be one that serves in the two-fold 
 capacity of a hackney and a draft horse. In addition 
 to its convenience, no person will deny that it is a 
 sociable method of riding, when he is informed, that 
 the gallant may thus accommodate his fair one by 
 taking her an airing en croupe on a pillion behind 
 him. Some ladies, who are not afraid of singularity, 
 will occasionally squire one another, when they are 
 in want of a beau ; and this is called riding jollifant. 
 
 " From the sketch I have made of Vixen Tor in this 
 whimsical view, an opinion may be formed whether 
 I have any excuse for entertaining such a fancied 
 resemblance. The gentleman, who has a cocked 
 
 than twenty years after this account was written, also compares Vixen 
 Tor to the Sphinx of Egypt.
 
 XII.] VIXEN TOR. 215 
 
 hat on his head, is rather short, but sufficiently pro- 
 minent in front. The lady, too, is rather of a cor- 
 pulent size, and proudly overlooks her husband ; her 
 cloak, however, may be supposed to be somewhat 
 expanded by the wind ; whilst her head is sheltered 
 with a calash. Even the head of the horse and the 
 handle of the pillion behind may be distinguished 
 with no gi-eatcr stretch of fancy. 
 
 "In addition to this, it cannot fail to attract the 
 traveller's eye as being the focus (if I may be al- 
 lowed the expression) or principal object of a grand 
 and beautifully varied view. Before it is the rugged 
 foreground of the moor, rough with stones and heath; 
 beside it is a deep valley, where flows the river Walk- 
 ham ; around it are a number of hills, all verging to, 
 or meeting in, this point, whilst, on one of them, the 
 tower of Walkhampton conspicuously elevates itself; 
 and, behind the whole, is a distant \'iew of Plpnouth 
 Sound vnth the woody eminence of INIoimt Edg- 
 cumbe. On the south-west it is much increased in 
 its appearance of height by the abrupt declivity of 
 the ground. It here seems an immense ridge of 
 rocks, on which stand three lofty piles in an almost 
 perpendicular elevation. At the foot of this ridge are 
 some curiously- shaped masses of rock, one of w^hich 
 projects for several feet in a horizontal direction. 
 
 " On the opposite side there is a perpendicular fis- 
 sure, which we found large enough to admit us, and 
 attempted to climb through it to the top of the 
 loftiest pile ; but the Avind was so Aaolent, and forced 
 itself with such impetuosity up this narrow passage, 
 that we at length gave up the attempt, but not till 
 our eyes were filled with dust and moss. The roar 
 occasioned by it was at times tremendous, but varied
 
 216 VIXEN TOR. [let. 
 
 with our change of situation, from the dashing of a 
 cataract to the soft whispers of the breeze. 
 
 " A rock to the north-west afterwards attracted our 
 attention, which, from its fancied resemblance to the 
 form of that animal, we called the tortoise. At its 
 northern end there is a projection of three feet, which 
 forms the head of the Tortoise. Under it the green 
 turf is enclosed with three stones; and this enclosure, 
 fi'om its wearing the appearance of art, first gave us 
 the idea of its having been appropriated to the uses 
 of Druidical superstition ; probably as a hearth, or 
 receptacle for burnt offering. 
 
 "Determining thoroughly to examine this rock, I 
 climbed to the top. which is formed by a large fiat 
 stone, eleven feet from north to south, and nine 
 from east to west, di^•ided about the middle by a 
 fissure. We discovered on the southern division 
 the ill-defined vestiges of four basins, in which was 
 some rain water, uniting with one another in a 
 tranverse direction. A little channel, or dipping- 
 place, communicated with the southern extremity of 
 the rock. On the other half, a thorn bush was 
 growing on a tuft of mould, rising about three or 
 four inches from the surface. 
 
 " By observing a little circular hollow at one end 
 of it, I was induced to push in my stick, and though 
 it met with resistance, I found it was not from 
 stone. It occurred to us, therefore, that there might 
 be a basin beneath, and we began with our sticks to 
 dig into the mould, which was of as firm a texture, 
 being the decomposition of decayed vegetable sub- 
 stances, as the ground below. Indeed, it was of the 
 same black colour as the peaty soil of the whole 
 moor, which shows evident signs of its vegetable
 
 XII.] ROCK BASINS. 217 
 
 origin. On loosening the mould, we gradually dis- 
 covered that our conjecture was well founded. 
 
 We were more than an hour eno-as^ed in this 
 undertaking; and, for want of better instruments, 
 my friend sat down and made use of his heels in 
 kicking away the earth. Whilst thus employed, I 
 was astonished to find that, with every blow, the 
 half of the stone on which he sat. though it was of 
 such large dimensions, shook, and was followed by a 
 sound occasioned by its collision with the rock below. 
 Having at length removed all the earth, we disco- 
 vered two regularly shaped basins, communicating 
 with each other, whilst a natural fissure served for 
 the dripping place. The length of the largest was 
 three feet, width two, and depth eight inches. The 
 smallest was only two feet long. 
 
 I have no doubt but these basins have been 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 ROCK BASINS. [lET. 
 
 covered with earth for centuries ; as, in no shorter 
 space of time, could moss or other vegetable sub- 
 stances be converted into so firm a mould. Indeed, 
 from other rocks near it, we stript off the moss, though 
 five or six inches thick, Avith perfect ease, and found 
 it of a texture almost as tough as a mat, but Avithout 
 any particle of earth. That the earth could not be 
 placed in this cstxitj by the hands of man, or depo- 
 sited there by the Avind, is, I think, pretty certain ; 
 as, at the bottom of the Avhole, Ave found a thin coat 
 of intertAvisted fibres, Avliich, though stained of a 
 black colour above, by the earth, Avas Avhite beneath, 
 and kept the rock perfectly clean. The thorn bush 
 likoAvise, AA^hich, in so exposed a situation, Avould not 
 groAV unless it had met Avith perfectly-formed earth, 
 and then Avould not have attained any size till after 
 a long period of years, indicates that the basin has 
 not been exposed for ages to the eye of day. 
 
 It AA'ill not. I hope.be deemed a useless digression, 
 to mention Avhat is supposed to have been the use of 
 these rock basins. Borlase, in his Antiquities of 
 Cornwall, informs us, that they AA^ere designed to 
 contain rain or snoAv Avater, Avhich is alloAved to be 
 the purest. This the Druids probably used as holy- 
 water for lustrations. They preferred the highest 
 places for these rccc]>tacles. as the rain Avater is 
 purer the farther it is removed from the ground. 
 Its being nearer the heavens, also, may have con- 
 tributed not a little to the sanctity in Avhich it Avas 
 held. The officiating Druid might haA'e stood on 
 these eminences and sanctified the congregation by 
 this more than ordinary lustration before he prayed 
 or gave forth his oracles. " The priest, too," says 
 Borlase, " might judge by the quantity, colour, mo-
 
 XII.] LOGAN STONES. 219 
 
 tion, and other appearances in the water of future 
 events, and dubious cases, without contradiction 
 from the people below." " By the motion of the 
 logan stone the Avater might be so agitated, as to 
 delude tlie inquirer by a pretended miracle, and 
 might make the criminal confess, satisfy the credu- 
 lous, bring forth the gold of the rich, and make the 
 injured, rich as well as poor, acquiesce in what the 
 Druids thouglit proper." 
 
 Aloo;an sio;iiifies in Cornish a shakin<r rock. That 
 the rock we visited is of this description, I hesitate 
 not to affirm, as it was still capable of being moved, 
 though the fissure was almost filled up mth stones, 
 some of Avhich we wiih difficulty removed by means 
 of a crooked stick. " It is probable the Druids made 
 the people belieAC, that they only, by their miracu- 
 lous powers, could move these logan rocks, and by 
 this pretended miracle condemned or acquitted the 
 accused, and often brought criminals to confess, what 
 would in no other way be extorted from them." It 
 is possible they encouraged the idea " that spirits 
 inhabited them, and this motion they might insist on 
 as a proof of it. and thus they became idols." The 
 Druids by placing even a pebble in a particular 
 direction might render unavailing the attempts of 
 others to move the rock, and, by taking it away and 
 moving the immense mass with apparent ease them- 
 selves, convince them of their superior powers. 
 
 On a rock at a little distance we discovered another 
 basin, with a lip or dripping place to the south-west 
 of a complete oval form, two feet and a half in length, 
 and one foot nine inches in width. The depth of it 
 was about six inches ; we found in it some rain water 
 that seemed remarkably cold to the toucli. 
 
 l2
 
 220 VIXEN TOR. [let. 
 
 On our return we visited several other rocks, but 
 met with nothing worthy of remark, excepting some 
 fine views of the vale through which flows the river 
 Walkham, and some distant reaches of the river 
 Tamar. 
 
 SECOND VISIT TO VIXEN TOR. 
 
 EXTRACTED ALSO FROM MR. BRAy's JOURNAL. 
 
 " October the 3d. — We left Tavistock early in the 
 morning with tlie intention of climlnng to the top of 
 Vixen tor, and afterwards inspecting Mistor. 
 
 " We ascended the former on the north-east side, 
 through a fissure of about two feet in width, made by 
 a division between two of the piles. We reached 
 Avith difficulty (for it was like climbing up a chimney) 
 the top of the lowest rock, where we sat for some 
 time to rest ourselves. From this, with a wide stride, 
 we got a footing on the other, and at length attained 
 the summit. 
 
 " The uppermost rock is divided into two or three 
 masses, on ])arts of which we found moss and green 
 turf, which, though damp with the dew, afforded us 
 a seat. Faciuir the east are three basins. One four 
 feet long, three feet two inches wide, and eight inches 
 deep. This has a lip at the edge. Of the two re- 
 maining basins, which communicate together, one is 
 four feet in diameter, and fourteen inches deep. 
 The other is one foot and a half in diameter, and 
 nine inches deep, 'ihey were the most regularly 
 circular basins we had yet seen. And from tliese, 
 also, a 11]) discharged the water over the edge of the 
 rock. 
 
 " Thougli in the vale below we had not perceived
 
 XII.] VIXEN TOR. 221 
 
 it, yet here the wind was high. x\s the foundation 
 of the rock is much lower on tlic south-west side, we 
 Avished to drop the hue thence, in order to fmd its 
 height. Having only a hall of thin packthread, to 
 which was affixed a small lead bullet, we attempted 
 to thro\v it over, as, owing to a projection, we could 
 not drop it ; but the wind bknv the thread out of its 
 proper direction, and we were unsuccessful in two or 
 three attempts ; at last we wound the thread round 
 the bullet and secured it better ; but could not tell, 
 though the thread was all expended, whether it had 
 reached the bottom. To satisfy ourselves as to this, 
 though I stood in great need of the assistance of my 
 compiuiion, I resolved to get down bv mvself ; in 
 which, however, I succeeded better than I expected. 
 Mv friend had intimated that lie sliould be vaieasy 
 till he heard my voice at the bottom. Indeed it was 
 no small satisfaction to myself wlicn I was able to 
 assure him of my safety by a loud shout, which was 
 instantly returned by him. 
 
 " On lindinir that the line did not reach the bottom, 
 and that he had no more, I requested he would th.row 
 down the stick to which it was tied ; but the wind 
 carried it away, and on striking against the moss, the 
 lead was not heavy enough to clear it. Though 
 vexed that our labour was partly in vain, I took a 
 sketch of the rock with my friend on the top of it, to 
 show we had ascended it. Whilst thus employed, 
 he startled me by throwing down one of his boots, 
 and afterwards the other, in order to have a firmer 
 footing in his descent. In his way down he was so 
 fortunate as to recover the string, and, as I Imd 
 marked how far it reached, I was in hopes, after all.
 
 222 VIXEN TOR. [let. 
 
 to know the elevation of the rock : as, in folding 
 it over, he had entangled it, we had the greatest 
 difficult V in unravelling it ; and though two or 
 three times we cut tliis gordian knot, we were 
 afraid our hopes would prove vain. My vexation, 
 which I confess was great, though about a thread, 
 conduced not to mend the matter. However, by 
 cutting, and tieing, and making allowances for the 
 entangled parts, we found the height of the central 
 rock to be about 110 feet. We returned to the road 
 on our way to Mistor, and arrived at Merrivale 
 bridge. It here began to rain : and, as an inhabit- 
 ant of the moor, who was working on the road, 
 infomied us that, if rain came on about half-past ten 
 o'clock, which was then the hour, and did not clear 
 up by eleven, it would prove a wet afternoon, we 
 resolved to wait this eventful half hour, and sheltered 
 our horses in a hovel near. But having waited till 
 our patience was exhausted, we turned our horses 
 towards Tavistock, wliithcr we arrived, not in so dry 
 a state as when we set out." 
 
 ADDITIONS BY MR. BRAY. 
 
 " In the Autumn of 1831, within a few weeks, or 
 possibly a few days, of thirty years, since the above 
 excursion, I took a young fi'iend to Vixen tor. He 
 had heard of my getting to the top of it, but that no 
 one else, it was believed, had done so since. I said 
 that I wondered at it ; particularly as I had often 
 mentioned that I had left a twopenny piece in one 
 of the basins; which at least, I thought, might have 
 induced some shepherd boy to attempt it. On his 
 asking how I ascended, I told him that I climbed
 
 XII.] VIXEN TOR. 223 
 
 through the fissure on the eastern side as up a 
 chimney, by working my way mth my arms, and 
 knees and back. 
 
 '• He said he should like to try it himself, and 
 would go to reconnoitre the spot. He instantly 
 galloped up the hill amongst the rocks ; and whilst I 
 followed him on foot, not ^^ithout some apprehension 
 for his safety, he leapt his horse over a wall of loose 
 stones, and, to my surprise, when I saw him again, it 
 was on the summit of the rock. We had previously 
 seen there a raven pacing to and fro ; and I make 
 no doubt it must equally have surprised the bhd at 
 any human being thus daring to ' molest her ancient 
 solitary reign.' For, that she might see him, either 
 from her 'watch-tower in the skies,' or from the 
 top of some neighbouring tor, is probable ; as, on a 
 ledge of the rock, we saw signs of its being the 
 settled habitation of this feathered biped. 
 
 " He had thrown off his coat, and, being dressed 
 in black — what Avith the contrastive wliitencss of his 
 sleeves, and liis varied position as he sought for the 
 basin and the coin deposited in it, formed an object 
 as picturesque as it was singular. He said that the 
 greatest part of the surface was covered with grass 
 or moss upon earth or mould of some depth, and 
 that, therefore, he could distinguish but few vestiges 
 of the basins, and nothing of the twopenny piece. 
 To see him descend was still more picturesque, as 
 the attitudes were still more varied and unusual, 
 rendered also more graj)hically striking by being 
 foreshortened. To tliis must be added the play of 
 the muscles, as sometimes he hung by liis arm, and 
 at other other times poised himself on his foot. Nor 
 can I forget, on my part, the sense of his danger.
 
 224 VIXEN TOR. [let. 
 
 which jrave it a yet sri-cater interest ; for I felt no 
 Kttle fear, (and fear, we l<now, is frequently the 
 accompaniment of subUme emotions,) as, at length, 
 he found some difficulty in fixing- his feet, and indeed 
 stopped about halfway down to take offhis boots, that 
 he might secure a firmer footing. I may here, per- 
 haps, be permitted to remark that we thus have 
 some data as to the period of the formation of vege- 
 table moi^ld in basins, and on the tops of rocks." 
 
 So concludes Mr. Bray's observations on Vixen 
 tor. My next letter will contain variovis particulars 
 about the Moor : till then. 
 
 Allow me to remain, my dear Sir, 
 With every respect, 
 l.iost faithfully and truly yours, 
 
 Ann.\ Eliza Bray.
 
 225 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Pewtor Rock — Ascent to the eminence — Spacious area 
 tliere found — Diuidical Seat of Jii(li;ment ; moie perfect than the 
 Judfrmtnt Seat at Kainbre in Cornwall — Basins on the summit — 
 Remarks on the Druids as legislators — Hindoos had recourse to 
 aggeration in elevating stones — Note on the subject giving the 
 opinion of Mr. Southey — Rock basins more particularly described 
 — Objections to rock basins being a work of art refuted — Proofs of 
 their being a work of art stated — Fastness or Stronghold of the 
 ancient Britons — Small cavern at the bottom of the hill — Huck- 
 worthy Bridge — Walkhampton — Sheepstor — \'isit lo the Pixies' 
 House — Return to the village — Second attempt to reach the object 
 of curiosity — Little boy becomes a guide — The Palace of the Pixies 
 at last discovered — Description of it — Dripping of water heard — 
 Story of Elford hidden in the cave — Excursion to Cockstor — Roose- 
 tor and Stapletor — Mound of stones; circular form — Account of 
 Cockstor — Roosetor remarkable — Pendent ro.!ks — Two more Basins 
 discovered — A most curious example of Druidical antiquity described 
 — Stapletor — A most interesting combination of nature and art — 
 Ascent to Stapletor — Rock Basins — Pile of rocks, pendent above, 
 very remarkable — The companion of the writer determines to ascend 
 the pile — Difficulty of so doing— He accomplishes the task — Dis- 
 covery of a Logan Stone on the summit — The Logan shakes under 
 the discoverer— Danger and difficulty of descent — The inquiry 
 pursued further on this Tor — Interesting discovery of a remarkable 
 Tolmen — This the only instance of a Tolmen found on Dartmoor — 
 Uses of the Tolmen with the Druid priesthood of Britain — Ordeals, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 Ficarage, Tavistock, May G, 1832. 
 
 My DEAR Sjr, 
 
 From Mr. Bray's Journal of September, 1802, 
 1 extract the following account of 
 PEWTOR ROCK. 
 " We once more resimiecl our excursions on the 
 
 l5
 
 226 PEWTOR. [let. 
 
 Moor, which, to my mortification, we were prevented 
 from doing sooner by the unfavourable state of the 
 weather. We proceeded over Whitchurch down to 
 Pewtor, situated about two miles and a half from 
 Ta\dstock. 
 
 "The ascent to this eminence is covered with 
 rocks : among wliich are two that project in a pen- 
 dent manner, several feet from the top of a buttress 
 of the same material. On the summit of the tor is 
 a spacious area, level, and pretty free from stones, 
 and of a form approaching to an oblong square. 
 At each corner, which is nearly facing one of the 
 cardinal points, is an elevation of massy rocks, with 
 their fissures or strata in a horizontal direction, 
 that give them the appearance of rocks piled upon 
 one another. From the opening at north-east to the 
 corresponding one at south-west it measures 27, and 
 from that at north-west to its opposite, 18 paces. 
 
 " The rock at the northern angle principally at- 
 tracted our attention. From the form of it I could 
 not hesitate to suppose that it was a Druidical seat of 
 judgment. On the top is a large canopy stone, pro- 
 jecting about six feet, very Uke the sounding-board 
 of a pulpit. Below it is a seat, projecting two feet 
 and a half in the form of a w-edgc. A smooth stone 
 supplies the back of this juridical chair ; and a stone 
 on each side may be considered as forming its elbow 
 supporters. At its foot is a })latform of rocks, some- 
 what resembling steps, elevated two or three feet 
 from the ground, which is distant from the canopy 
 about five feet. 
 
 " This curious rock is in every respect more perfect 
 than the judgment-seat at Karnbre, in Cornwall, 
 described by Borlase, p. 115. The canopy is much
 
 Xlir.] ROCK BASINS. 227 
 
 larger, and the seat more easy to be distinguished. 
 Before that at Karnbre there is an area, Avhose outer 
 edge is fenced with a row of pillars, probably so placed 
 for the purpose of keeping the profane at an aAvful 
 distance. Here the elevated platform answers the 
 same end in a gTandcr manner. 
 
 " That this rock was appropriated by the Druids 
 to their religious uses is without doubt ; as it not 
 only possesses the singularities above described, 
 but also several basins on its top. A gentleman, 
 Avhose residence is situated almost at the foot of the 
 hill, informed me he had often visited this romantic 
 spot, and admired the extensive prospects it affords ; 
 but had never seen or heard of these rock-basins. 
 On my pointing them out, he immediately assented 
 to their being the work of art. 
 
 " But before we proceed to their examination, I 
 shall request permission to state my opinions re- 
 specting a Druidical seat of jiidgment. The Druids, 
 we know, were possessed of almost sovereign sway ; 
 indeed, in some respects, of power superior even to 
 their kings. For the monarch seldom dared to exe- 
 cute any thing Avithout consulting the Druids ; whose 
 supposed intercourse with their deities afforded them 
 the pretence of arrogating to themselves a preter- 
 natural knowledge of futurity. Criminals, especially 
 those guilty of sacrilege or any impiety, or where the 
 accusation was doubtful, may be naturally supposed 
 to have been brought before the venerable Arch- 
 Druid. The awe wliich his presence must have 
 inspired, increased by the stu])cndous trib\inal on 
 which he sat, doubtless ft-eqviently occasioned a con- 
 scientious confession from the guilty breast. 
 
 " To say that the Druids erected these amazing
 
 228 ROCK BASINS. [lET. 
 
 piles themselves, would be to grant them the powers 
 wliich they made their superstitious votaries imagine 
 they possessed. It is probable they selected those 
 rocks that were naturally the best adapted to their 
 purpose, and if they used art, carefully concealed 
 every trace of it ; in order to make their followers 
 imagine that they were piled and arranged for them 
 by the gods themselves. 
 
 " The Druids may be supposed to have occasioned 
 those singular forms of rock of which they were so 
 fond, by breaking off parts of them, or detaching one 
 mass from another, rather than by placing or pihng 
 them together in these immense heaps : though 
 were I even to assert the latter, I might be greatly 
 supported by the astonishing stnicture of Stone- 
 henge, and also by what the Hindoos, almost equally 
 unskilled in arts, have been kno'>\n to effect in India. 
 On the tops of some of tlieir pagodas are amazing 
 masses of rock. To place them in such elevated 
 situations, they had recourse to aggeration ; they 
 took the laborious method, by accumulated earth, of 
 forming an easy ascent, or inclined plane, to the top ; 
 by means of levers rolled them to the summit ; and 
 then removed the mound *. 
 
 * In a letter, which I was honoured with receiving from Jlr, Southey, 
 after this had been sent to Keswick, the foUowinfj observations occurred ; 
 and I here venture to transcribe them, as I doubt not they will be 
 found of interest to the reader — •' If such of your Tors as the drawinjajs 
 represent have not been formed simply by taking away parts of them 
 (as within living memory was done in this immediate neighbourhood, 
 to make the Bolder stone appear wonderful), I think the stones are 
 more likelj^ to liave been raised by mechanical means, than by the 
 rude process of aggeration. The largest stone at Stonehenge might 
 have been raised by a three-inch cable ; and we know that ihe mis- 
 chievous Lieutenant who threw down the rocking-slone at the Land's 
 End, succeeded in raising it again. The Druids tliemsidves may not
 
 XIII. J 
 
 ROCK BASINS. 
 
 229 
 
 " On the top, then, of this rock, I had the pleasure 
 of discovering the basins before aUudcd to. which 
 confirmed the ideas 1 had ah-cady formed of the pur- 
 poses to which this tor was apphed. Of these, I 
 counted four of a perfect, and five of an im})crfect 
 form. From north-west to south-east, the length of 
 the rock is seventeen feet, and it is nine feet wide. 
 
 At a is an imperfect or shallow basin ; into which 
 communicates, at e, a larger one, in length three feet, 
 width two, and depth ten inches. The bottom of 
 this is flat and smooth. At r/ is a small imperfect one, 
 the outward edije of which seems broken off. Near 
 it, at i, is another, 2 feet in length, and eleven inches 
 in deptli. At / m is a basin, whose side is evidently 
 broken off. This is three feet in length, and 
 thirteen inches deep, and communicates with four 
 others ; two of which are perfect, and two imperfect. 
 
 have possessed either the skill or the means necessary for such ope- 
 rations: but the Pheniciaus, with whom tliey traded, might have 
 helped ihem; and both Dartraoor and Salisbury Plain jire within 
 easy reach of a sea-port."
 
 230 ROCK BASINS. [lET. 
 
 " It is probable there were many more basins ; as 
 the rock on which these excavations are made, being 
 thin, is broken, and the line of separation runs 
 through the basins. No vestiges remain of the other 
 part ; which probably fell to the ground, and may 
 now be covered with soil. The workmen must have 
 taken great pains not to perforate or split the rock ; 
 as at the bottom of these basins it is but little more 
 than an inch in thickness. 
 
 " It seems almost needless to prove these basins 
 are the work of art ; but it may be proper to obviate 
 some objections started by persons who have never 
 seen, or never thoroughly examined them. They 
 say these excavations are mere hollows in the rock, 
 formed by time and weather. Setting aside the 
 shape of them, which is far too regular to be ascribed 
 to these causes, I would ask why they are confined to 
 a few particular rocks ? For as almost all tlie rocks 
 on Dartmoor arc of the same description, namely, 
 granite, why should some yield to the effects of 
 time sooner than others ? 
 
 " Granite, I believe, is seldom found to be carious, 
 and is more liable to be rendered smooth than per- 
 forated, by the above causes ; as by being exposed 
 to the weather, the sandy granulations of which it 
 is composed are worn off", and the edges as well as 
 top of the rock arc moulded into a convex or gib- 
 bous form. How is it that moss and soil, formed of 
 decayed vegetable substances, are found in these 
 very hollows ? surely if the rock cannot resist the 
 impetuosity of the weather, much less can the tender 
 vegetable. 
 
 " I allow tliat in rivers we i'requently find rocks 
 with considerable perforations ; but these aie made
 
 XIII.] ROCK BASINS. 231 
 
 by the whirlpools, or eddies of the torrent. It surely 
 would be too absurd to think these basins were the 
 effect of the deluge ; for nothing but the deluge 
 could cover the tops of such elevated mountains. 
 Besides, if the weather produced these wonders, they 
 would be continually increasing, and cease to be 
 novelties. Can it be imagined, for an instant, that 
 nature would select only those rocks that are sin- 
 gular and remarkable enough in other respects, to 
 add to their peculiarities by forming basins on the 
 tops of them ? It is strange that men will have 
 recourse to miracles to account for what may be 
 explained by such simple means. 
 
 " By standing at the north-west opening, you have 
 a perspective view of the four bastions, if I may be 
 allowed the expression, and a distant prospect of 
 Plymouth Sound. This curious tor here wears so 
 regular an appearance, that one might almost as 
 easily assent to its being a work of art as of nature : 
 possibly it partakes of both. The area may be sup- 
 posed to have been cleared, as there are only five 
 or six stones witliin it ; which probably served as 
 altars. The four openings also seem to have been 
 partly owing to art. But if the whole be the Avork 
 of Nature, every one must allow that she has for 
 once deviated from her accustomed plan. 
 
 " It is not improbable that this spot was used as a 
 fastness, or stronghold, by the ancient Britons ; and, 
 with Aery little addition, it might now be rendered 
 impregnable even to the improved system of warfare 
 of the present day. A spot of this kind, Avhence is 
 so extensive a view of the sea, and whence might be 
 descried the approach of the enemy in every direc- 
 tion, could not surely have been entirely neglected ;
 
 232 PIXY GROT. [let. 
 
 and it is well known that one and the same place 
 was frequently converted to the purposes both of 
 religion and war. 
 
 " We had been informed that at the bottom of the 
 hill there was a curious cavern, which, however, by 
 no means answered the expectations we had formed 
 of it. The aperture, which is about four feet long 
 and two wide, might be easily taken for the entrance 
 of a rabbit burrow. With some difficultv we en- 
 tered this narrow passage, and found an excavation 
 about fourteen feet in length, eight in width and 
 five in height. It terminated in a narrow hole; 
 and was probably the adit to a mine, or part of a 
 stream-work; as, in the same direction, there are 
 several pits close to it, which seem to have been 
 opened in search of metal. I apprehend it has not 
 unfrequently been used by smugglers, as a secret 
 deposit for their liquors. 
 
 " In our way to Walkhampton, after descending a 
 most precipitous road, Ave passed over Huckworthy 
 bridge, around which arc a few cottages partially 
 concealed with trees. On ascending the opposite 
 hill, we had a very picturesque view of this rural 
 bridge, with its arches, partly covered Avith ivy, 
 bestriding a rocky river, that OAves its source to 
 Dartmoor ; one of Avhose lofty tors closed tljis ro- 
 mantic scene. At Walkhampton, Avhich is a small 
 village, Ave gained directions to Sheepstor, Avhere 
 Ave liad heard there Avas an excavation called the 
 'Pixies' Grot,'* and to Stanlake, near Avhich aa'O 
 Avere informed the Dock-lect j formed a fine cascade. 
 
 '■' Pics'L's, or pixies, are supposed to he iiivibible beings of the fairy 
 tribe. 
 
 f I^et't is used in Devonsliire to signify a stream of water.
 
 Xlll.] SHEEPSTOR. 233 
 
 " After passing over some downs or commons of 
 no great extent, we entered a road, at the bend of 
 which we had a view of Sheepstor, Avith its rocky 
 summit peering over a bridge ahnost covered with 
 ivy. The banks of the rividct beneath it were 
 fringed with willows ; whilst beyond the ivied arch, 
 appeared the tops of some lofty trees that waved 
 their branches over the roofs of the cottages that 
 were visible between them. On reaching the little 
 hamlet of Sheepstor, we were informed by the 
 matron of it, whom from her age and appearance 
 we denominated the Septuagenarian Sibyl, that we 
 might easily find out the 'pixies' house,' where 
 Ave should be careful to leave a pin, or something of 
 ccpial value, as an offering to these invisible beings ; 
 otherwise they would not fail to torment us in 
 our sleep. After thanking the good dame for 
 her advice and information, we proceeded in search 
 of it. 
 
 " By making a circuit, Ave rode to the very summit 
 of this lofty tor, on AA^hich is a spacious area of 
 srreen turf. We searched for some time amid tliis 
 labA'rinth of rocks for the residence of the pixies, but 
 in A-ain, and lamented wo had not taken a guide. 
 We determined, hoAvever, to make a complete survey 
 of the tor on foot, thinking that at least AA'e should 
 be recompensed bv the sight of the distant scenery, 
 or the nearer picturesque formation of the rocks. 
 
 " In the vale beloAV, the little tower of the village 
 to Avhich this eminence gives its name forms a pleas- 
 ing object. To the Avest is an extensive horizon ; 
 the north is bounded by other equally lofty tors, one 
 of Avhich is almost in the form of a regular cone or
 
 234 SHEEPSTOR. [let. 
 
 pyramid. Below strays a little winding rivulet, con- 
 tent to wash the foot of the haughty mountain.* 
 
 "At the north side of the tor we discovered a 
 narrow fissure, amid some large and lofty rocks ; and 
 imagining we had at last found the object of our 
 search, squeezed ourselves into it with no httle 
 difficulty. The lissm-e was eqvially narrow all the 
 way ; and as it took an angular direction, we got out 
 with as much labour on the other side. We did 
 not, however, follow the recommendation of our 
 aged informant, as we agreed that Oberon and his 
 Queen Titania never could condescend to honour 
 this spot wth their presence. 
 
 " On returning for our horses, we discovered near 
 the top of the tor two stone ridges, almost covered 
 with turf, that intersected each other at nearly right 
 angles, and formed a cross. In the middle was a 
 flat horizontal stone. Measuring from tliis central 
 point, the ridge to the east was twelve paces, west 
 six, north seven, and south eleven. We afterwards 
 discovered a larger one below, at the south side of 
 the tor. At first we conjectured they were sepul- 
 chral monuments ; and afterwards thought they 
 might have been folds for sheep ; which at the same 
 time was endeavouring to account for the name of 
 the mountain. But after all, these conjectures are 
 entitled to little attention ; as nothing can be ac- 
 curately decided without more minute examination 
 than we were then capable of giving. 
 
 " We returned to the village, little satisfied with 
 our excursion ; but, on inquuy, found, notwithstand- 
 
 * The leet that supplies Plymouth with its waters begins not far 
 distant from the base of this tor.
 
 XIII.] SHEEPSTOR. 235 
 
 ing all our search, that we had failed in discovering 
 the wonderful grotto. With a Httle boy for our guide, 
 we again ascended the mountain. Leaving our 
 horses below, we followed om- conductor over some 
 ru<r2:ed rocks, till he came to one in which was a 
 narrow fissure. On his telling vis this was the en- 
 trance, we laughed, and said none but the 'pixies 
 and himself could enter it ; but, on his assuring us 
 it was the spot, I resolved to make the attempt. 
 With great difficulty I succeeded, and found a hollow 
 about six feet long, four wide, and five feet high. 
 It was formed by two rocks resting in a slanting 
 position against another in a perpendicular duec- 
 tion. The cavity was certainly singularly regular, 
 and had somewhat the form of a httle hovel. A 
 rock served for a seat, and the posture of sitting 
 was the only one in which I could find myself at 
 ease. A noise occasioned by the dripping of water 
 is distinctly heard ; and as the cause of it is out of 
 sight, it produces at first a sensation somewhat ap- 
 proaching to surprise, till reflection tells us the 
 occasion of it : which might possibly have prepared 
 the mind to imagine it the resort of in\isible 
 beings.* 
 
 " We now returned about a mile and a half, and 
 
 * The Eev. Mr. Pohvhele, in his Devon, notices it, and in a note 
 gives the following; extract from a correspondent. 
 
 " Here, I am informed, Elford used to hide himself from the search 
 of Cromwell's party, to whom he was obnoxious. Hence he could 
 command the whole country ; and having some talents for painting, 
 he amused himself with that art on the walls of his cavern, which I 
 have been told (says Mr. Yon^e of Puslinch) by an elderly gentleman 
 who had visited this place, was very fresh in his time. The country 
 people have many superstitious notions respecting this hole." 
 
 None of the paintings now remain on the sides of the rock.
 
 238 cocKSTOR. [let, 
 
 turnins: to the rifflit, went in search of the cascade ; 
 which, as well as the cave just mentioned, is beyond 
 measure indebted to the exaggerating tongue of 
 Fame. This is produced by the dock-leet, iiomng 
 from the side of a hill, across a little rivulet, over a 
 bridge or aqueduct. The effect is not in the least 
 picturesque, and by no means recompensed us for 
 our trouble." 
 
 The following is extracted from Mr. Bray's Jour- 
 nal of the same year, Avritten a few days after the 
 above. 
 
 EXCURSION TO COCKSTOR,* ROOSETOR AND 
 STAPLETOR. 
 
 " On ascending Cockstor, which is on the left of 
 the Morcton road, we observed several ridges, 
 some of which are of a circular form. They do not 
 seem, however, to be of Druidical origin, as they 
 are too irregular, and are principally formed of 
 mounds of earth ; whereas the circles of the Druids 
 Avere generally constructed of stones alone. They 
 possibly may be the remains of enclosures to defend 
 the sheep from the wolves, which, at an early 
 period, are said to have been very numerous on the 
 forest. 
 
 " Towards the so\ith of the tor is an inclosure of 
 this description of an oblong form; at the end of 
 Avhich is a singular rock, Avith two lines or fissures 
 on its side, in the form of a cross. Hence is a grand 
 and extensive view of the sea, the blue hills of 
 Cornwall, the town of Tavistock situated in a deep 
 valley, the lofty eminence of Brentor and the distant 
 
 * Cockstor ; possibly so called from the lu'ath-cock, formerly very 
 plentiful on Dartmoor.
 
 Xlil.] COCKSTOR. 237 
 
 horizon beyond it. The top of Cockstor spreads 
 into a kind of plain ; in the middle of which is a 
 rocky prominence, that appears to have been a place 
 of defence. Around it we traced the ruins of a 
 circular wall. The foundations of a small buildin": 
 Avithin it, eleven feet by eight, were plainly visible, 
 as the Avails were about four feet high. The en- 
 trance and fire-place could be clearly distinguished. 
 By the side of it was a mound of stones, which is the 
 loftiest point of the tor, and probably was used as 
 a beacon or signal-post. 
 
 "The decHvitous sides of this tor, to the north 
 and east, are covered wdth either mole or ant-hills, 
 as contiguous to one another as they can possibly 
 , be placed. We remarked, however, a few lines or 
 belts without any, and on approaching these spots, 
 found them wet and swampy. It is singular that 
 this is the only tor we have yet seen that possesses 
 these excrescences. They seem to indicate a depth, 
 and consequently comparative richness of soil. Far- 
 ther to the north is a mound of stones of a circular 
 form, with a deep concavity in the middle. The 
 circumference of this ridge measures twenty-nine 
 paces. The stones of which it is composed are 
 thickly covered with moss. At a little distance 
 from it is a karn, or heap of stones, flat at the 
 top. 
 
 "Descendinjr this mountain, we crossed a narrow 
 valley, and mounted the side of another tor, in a 
 north-east direction. After passing near some pits or 
 trenches, which we imagine are the vestiges of stream 
 works, we met with an aged sliepherd, who was col- 
 lecting his flock, and informed us the hill we were 
 ascending was
 
 238 ROOSETOR. [let. 
 
 ROOSETOR. 
 
 " This name may possibly be derived from Rhds 
 or Boo, signifying, in Welsh and Cornish, a heathy 
 mountain. At present, however, there is no heath 
 near it ; and indeed scarcely any is to be seen on the 
 whole forest, as it is constantly burnt almost as soon 
 as it appears. By this means the heath polts. which 
 were here numerous, are nearly extirpated, Avhilst 
 the sheep are benefited by the rich pasture that 
 succeeds. Tlie south side of the tor has a grand 
 and picturesqvie appearance. Two immense piles of 
 rocks are of so pendent a form as to threaten every 
 instant to fall upon the beholder. One of them is 
 supported on its two extremities, about a couple of 
 feet from the ground, by some low rocks, and seems 
 as if it had been bent in the middle by its own 
 weight. And this probably was the case, for a per- 
 pendicular fissure or hiatus, that extends from the 
 convexity of the base into the body of the lower 
 stratum, proves that rocks, on their formation, must 
 have been of a soft, yielding nature. 
 
 " This first groupe of rocks showed no spnptoms 
 of art ; but on another pile, which was fifteen feet 
 high, we found two basins — one two feet by one 
 and a half; the other one foot in diameter. The 
 rock consisted of seven layers, or strata, and the 
 basins were on the stone next to the top, which 
 was small. Another pile, though much lower, we 
 ascended with the greatest difficulty. On the top 
 of it were a few imperfect basins. But a mass of 
 rocks, near the latter, afforded us a very curious 
 specimen of the works of the Druids.
 
 XIII. J 
 
 STAPLETOR. 
 
 239 
 
 "On the uppermost stone of the mass Ave dis- 
 covered a basin, in depth a foot and a quarter, with 
 smaller ones surrounding it, and little channels, 
 communicating with others in a serpentine direction. 
 On this tor we fovmd a sheepfold between some 
 rocks, which were serviceable in the formation of it ; 
 and were informed by another shepherd that it was 
 still used. A tor, it seems, is generally appropriated 
 to a particular flock. Hence we proceeded to 
 
 STAPLETOR, 
 
 probably corrupted from Steepletor, as it has two 
 or three piles of rock of a considerable height. On 
 asking the old shepherd whether he thought we 
 could climb them, he laughed at the idea. How- 
 ever, we determined to ascend the lowest first, which 
 we did with no great difficulty, and discovered on it 
 a basin, a foot and a half in diameter and one foot 
 deep. This, contrary to all we had hitherto seen, 
 was full of dirty water, which was probably occa- 
 sioned by decayed moss. Over it hung a loftier 
 pile, which we resolved to ascend as high as we 
 could, without much hope of reaching the top. My 
 friend, however, got to the very summit of it, on 
 which he informed me was a wide but shallow basin. 
 I followed liim till I reached the third stone from
 
 240 
 
 STAPLIiTOR. 
 
 [let. 
 
 the top, which I could feel vdth my hand, but was 
 unable to summon resolution cnou<>-h to ascend 
 higher. 
 
 " Whilst I was leaning with my breast against the 
 stone, he moved from his position, and I felt the rock 
 shake under him. On mv mentionino; this circum- 
 stance, he did not seem to give it credit ; but I soon 
 convinced him, by shaking it myself, till, mth some 
 degree of apprehension, he requested me to desist. 
 
 " I begged he would continue on the top. till I 
 had descended and tahen a sketch of it, with him- 
 self on the summit ; but first gave him a plumb-line 
 to let down, and we found he was elevated thirty 
 feet. Whilst sketching, I conversed with him, and 
 could almost fancv I heard a voice from the clouds. 
 He not only stood upright, but stretched out his 
 hands and foot in the position of Mercury, and 
 seemed rather like a statue on the top of a loffy 
 column than a human being on the summit of a 
 natural rock. Besides its elevation, it hangs con- 
 siderably out of its perpendicular ; wliich so blended 
 the feelings of fear for my friend and surprise at his 
 intrepid firmness, that I felt the most indescribablo
 
 XIII.] 
 
 STAPLETOR. 
 
 241 
 
 sensations, and my fingers could scarcely hold the 
 pencil. 
 
 *' I again made an attempt to join him, hut halted 
 in my former situation ; and the more he endeavoured 
 to encourage me, added to my own attempts to over- 
 come it, the more the perturbation of my mind in- 
 creased. Never had I experienced such a conflict 
 in my breast ; and, unable to bear it longer, I again 
 descended. On letting himself down, I was obliged 
 to direct my companion where to place his feet. Had 
 he missed his hold, it would have been instant de- 
 struction. As he was now on the same spot where 
 I had stood, I requested he would move the rock, 
 thinking he could do it with greater ease, as he is 
 much strono:er than myself, and the rock must have 
 been rendered somewhat lighter by his having re- 
 moved from it. But my astonishment was incon- 
 ceivably great at his assuring me he coiild not move 
 it in the least. This convinced us he must have 
 acted as a poise ; which was confirmed afterwards by 
 
 VOL. 1. M
 
 242 
 
 TOLMEN. 
 
 [let. 
 
 our examining the inclination of the rock, and the 
 point on which he stood. As one part of the rock 
 projected considerably, it reqviired something on the 
 opposite side to balance it, and when this was re- 
 moved it destroyed the libration ; so that there was 
 less danger of its falling when he was on it than 
 otherwise. When he was half way down, the shep- 
 herd again joined us, with the laugh of stupid 
 wonder, and saying he had observed him on the 
 top, asked how he could possibly get down. 
 
 " On the same groupe of rocks is a singular 
 Druidical monument, or tolnieu, for such I am con- 
 vinced it is. The word is composed of Toll, a hole, 
 and Men, a rock, in the Cornish lang^uaffe. After a 
 description of this, which is different from any men- 
 tioned by Borlase, we will consider the purposes to 
 which works of this description were applied. On 
 
 the tcrp of a rock, witli a flat siu-face, a stone, nine 
 feet long, and six wide, is supported by two other
 
 XIII.] tolmi::n. 243 
 
 stones. One of the supports is placed on the very 
 edge of the rock. Neither point of bearing is an 
 inch in thickness, so that, in all appearance, a slight 
 effort would remove it. Through this aperture I 
 crept, not without apprehension, and took especial 
 care not to touch its supporter even in the slightest 
 manner. 
 
 " The tolmen is denominated by Borlase a stone 
 deity. By going under the rock, or through the 
 passage formed by it, he thinks one acquired a 
 degree of holiness ; or that it was used to prepare 
 for, and initiate into, the mysteries of Druidism, 
 their future votaries. Some, too, he says, might 
 be resorted to by people troubled wth particular 
 diseases, who, l)y going through these passages, left 
 their complaints behind them.* 
 
 " After all, however, it is probable that this rock 
 cannot come under such denomination, as tolmens in 
 general are large orbicular rocks, supported from the 
 ground by two small ones. And as nothing similar 
 to it is to be found in Borlase's account of Druidical 
 remains in Cornwall, I may be allowed, perhaps, to 
 indulge my own conjectures. 
 
 * " Creeping; under tolmens for the cure of diseases is still prac- 
 tised in Ireland, and also in the East, as is shown by ]\Irs. Colonel 
 Elwood in her travels." — Genlleman's Magazine, July, 1831. 
 
 M 2
 
 244 VIXEN TOR. [let. xiii. 
 
 " I am inclined, then, to think that this was de- 
 sic^ned as a kind of moral touchstone. The Druids 
 might lead the accused to the spot, point out to him 
 the apparently tottering rock, and by threatening to 
 make him pass under it, when, if guilty, it would fall 
 and crush him, extract from the delincjuent the con- 
 fessions of his fear. Vv'e know, though Borlase has 
 unaccountably overlooked it, that ordeals of various 
 kinds were used by the ancient inhabitants of this 
 kingdom ; and the rock ordeal may be supposed as 
 effectual as any other. After examining some more 
 rocks, where we found nothing remarkable, v/e re- 
 turned, with the determination of soon visiting Mis- 
 tor, which is the next to the north-east, and which 
 our good shepherd informed vis was the most curious 
 on the moor, and that we should there meet with 
 what was called Mistor pan : this we concluded must 
 be a Druidical basin of a large size. 
 
 " I may here observe, that Vixon, or Vixen Tor, 
 described in a former excursion, receives its name, 
 as I am told, from Vixen, the female of a fox ; these 
 animals resorting there from a neighbouring wood, 
 near the Walkham, to breed among the hollows of 
 the rocks." 
 
 In my next letter I propose giving you several 
 other extracts from Mr. Bray's Journals. In the 
 interval. 
 
 Allow me, my dear Sir, 
 
 The honour to remain, 
 Very faithfully and truly yours, 
 
 A. E. Bray.
 
 245 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTIIEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Mistor described — Tumuli and circles near Mistor — Ashes 
 found in the circles — Barrows — Stream-work,&c.— Brentor — Beacon 
 station with the ancient Britons — Account of this most conspicuous 
 and remarkable tor — Church on the very tup uf it — Its commanding 
 station — Legend respecting it — Another tale respecting its founua- 
 tion — Most probable tradition concerning its erection — Bientor a 
 striking ubject at a distance — Cannlen's nntice of the Gubbins, a 
 rude race of men inhabiting a neighbouring village — Wherefore 
 called cramp. eaters — Longevity, instance of it in Elizabeth Wil- 
 liams — Geology of Brentor — Mr. Polwhele (quoted. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, May 10/A, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I SEND you in this Mr. Bray's account of an 
 excursion, made in the same year as the former, to 
 
 MISTOR ON DARTMOOR. 
 
 " This tor, which is situated about five miles from 
 Tavistock, we visited to view the pan already men- 
 tioned.* It lies to the left of the IMoreton road, 
 near the river Walkham. A small rock, or tor, ])ro- 
 bably little Mistor. is near it : this we ascended : 
 it had nothing- but its natural, yet regular appear- 
 ance, almost like that of masonry, to attract our 
 notice. 
 
 " On continuing our ride hence, we found the 
 
 * The pnpular k'gend respecting blister pan is, that it was formed 
 by the devil, and used by him as a frying-paii on particular occasions.
 
 246 
 
 MISTOR. 
 
 [let. 
 
 ground swampy, and before we reached Great Mis- 
 tor, crossed a stream work of considerable extent. 
 Here there are four or five masses of regularly piled 
 roclcs, on one of which, about the centre of the tor, is 
 a basin, the largest we had yet seen, three feet in 
 diameter, and six inches in depth. The bottom was 
 flat and smooth. It had a lip, with a channel to the 
 north-east. Near it, on the same rido-e, is a sinsru- 
 larly formed rock ; from its appearance, we concluded 
 
 it was a logan stone, but tried in vain to move it. 
 We examined every part of the tor, but could find 
 no other work of art : if there ever had been any, it 
 was probably destroyed some years ago by the law- 
 less rout of idle young men, who sallied out and pur- 
 posely overthrew every rock they were able to move 
 in this neighbourhood. Whilst Ave were employed 
 in these investigations, we sheltered ourselves from 
 a shower of rain, by entering a chasm amid the 
 rocks, and made them echo with the voice of song." 
 
 The next extract is from the same Jovu'nal, kept 
 by Mr. Eray during his excursions on the n\oor. 
 
 TUMULI AND CIRCLES NEAR MISTOR. 
 *•' HaAang occasion to pass over Dartmoor, without
 
 XIV.] MISTOR. 247 
 
 an}'- intention of renewing my researches on it at that 
 time, I thoug-ht I observed, as I ascended Merrivale 
 hill, a mound or two, at the left hand, at some 
 distance fi'om the road. It was rather remarkable 
 they had not before attracted my notice, particularly 
 as, in our last excursion, I cast my eyes over it in 
 doubt whether I should examine it more minutely 
 or not. 
 
 "As I was not much straitened for time, I di- 
 rected my course to the spot, v/hich is an enclosure, 
 and found the first barrow I came to was of an 
 oblong square, thirty-five paces round the base, with 
 shelving sides and flat at the top. It was covered 
 with moss, rushes and grass, and had a broad but 
 shallow trench around it. It stretched east and west, 
 or rather north-east and south-west. Another near 
 it was of the same dimensions. A little beyond 
 this Avas one thirty-seven paces round. They all 
 pointed to the same quarter of the heavens. At a 
 distance I perceived several others, and determined 
 to return to my horse, which I had fixed to the 
 hedge, and ride to them. I was conAdnced, from 
 their shape and situation, that they were barrows or 
 tinnuli, which were in remote ages receptacles of 
 the dead. 
 
 " Owing to enclosures I was obliged to return to 
 the turnpike road, and, near the circles above-men- 
 tioned, found a man employed in building a hut, the 
 foundations of which I had before remarked. He 
 informed me that he had a grant from Mr. Lopez " 
 (the late Sir M. Lopez) "of several acres around, 
 and intended to reside there Avith his family. On 
 my asking him Avhat he imagined the circles Avere 
 designed for, he repeated the old stor}"-, that they
 
 248 MisTOR. [let. 
 
 were used as a market during the plague at Tavis- 
 tock, the account of which he traced back to his 
 gi'eat grandfather. He told me he would show me 
 the spot where the market-house stood, together 
 with the ivraxeUimj ring, or place appropriated for 
 \vrestling. The circles he conceived were booths ; 
 and, said he, ' To prove they were, I've found many 
 of their fire-places with ashes in them.' 
 
 " This alone was wanting to corroborate my opinion 
 of their being used by the Druids in their sacrifices, 
 or as dwellings by the aboriginal inhabitants of the 
 forest. He promised me he would let me know when 
 he had discovered any more. On accusing him of 
 having destroyed some of the circles, he said the 
 stones were very handy for him, and he did not know 
 what use they now were of But, on my informing 
 him, that I should endeavour to bring them into 
 notice, which might possibly induce the curious to 
 visit them, and if he acted as their guide he might 
 meet ^vith some remuneration, he promised he would 
 restrain his destroying hand. On finding he had 
 resided for most part of his life near Vixen Tor, I 
 asked whether he had ever been on the top of it, to 
 which he replied, it was impossible ; and I could 
 hardly persuade ■■ m I had myself accomplished that 
 feat. 
 
 " I thence diittx«.t. my route in pursuit of the 
 remaining barrows towards Mistor, and leaving my 
 horse near the stream-work mentioned in one of my 
 former rambles, entered the enclosure, Avhich reaches 
 from the river Walkham half way up the rocky side 
 of Mistor. The first barrow I arrived at was twenty- 
 seven paces round, the next twenty-seven, another 
 thirty-four. Near this was one thirty-eight, and
 
 XIV.] MISTOR. 249 
 
 another twenty-five. They were in general about 
 four and a half feet high. Not far distant was the 
 largest I had yet seen ; the circumference of which 
 was forty-eight paces, and its height six feet. Near 
 this were two more, one twenty-eight paces, the other 
 thirty-two in circumference. It may possibly be said 
 that they are nothing more than old peat stacks, as, 
 where the turf has been removed, the earth is very 
 black, but this is the natural colour of the soil on the 
 moor. It would be absurd to imagine such pains 
 would be taken to place them all in the same di- 
 rection, or to make them all of nearlv the same size. 
 But the strongest proof, till one of them be opened, 
 (which at some future time I hope to do,) is that the 
 next I came to evidently had its sides faced with 
 stone. This was twenty-four paces round. At the 
 east end of it is a cu-cle, ten paces in diameter ; it was 
 different from any other I had before seen. Stones 
 were piled upon each other to the height of two feet, 
 which was about the width of the wall. The en- 
 trance was to the south, \\hence you have a fine 
 view of the sea, Maker heights, and Vixen Tor. 
 
 " Near this was another barrow, thirty-two paces 
 round, more distinctly faced with stone. Thus in all 
 there are thirteen tumuli witliin the space of less 
 than half a mile ; and since tliey are surrounded on 
 all sides by such evident Druidical rcnnains as basins 
 and circles, we may surely attribute them to the 
 same origin. Indeed, this spot seems to have been 
 the sacred cemetery of the Druids. 
 
 " I forgot to mention above, that an idea may be 
 started, from their proximity to a stream-work, that 
 these mounds were formed of the rubbish arising 
 from them. This, however, could by no means be 
 
 .AI 5
 
 250 BRENT TOR. [lET. 
 
 the case, as they surely would not have carried it to 
 such a distance from the work, nor was there any 
 reason to form a trench around, or to make them in 
 so artificial a shape. Near these tumuli are several 
 lines of stones stretching in various directions, some 
 straight, and others in a cu'cular direction. To the 
 north-east of them, I found very unexpectedly a great , 
 number of circles, of all sizes, from three or four 
 paces to sixty or seventy in diameter. The largest 
 united three or four small ones, and had lines of 
 connexion wdth some at a distance. On the range 
 of its circumferential line, a square is formed, on the 
 inside, by three or four stones, v.hich has an entrance 
 fi'om without. This I conjecture to have been the 
 sacred hearth or altar for burnt sacrifice. And near 
 one of the circles is a pit or cavity, which possibly 
 might have been applied to the same purpose." 
 
 The next extract which I here send you from Mr. 
 Brays papers is an account of liis excursion to 
 
 BRENT TOR. 
 
 " On my road, I passed Hurdv.dck, about a mile 
 from the towm ; it was formerly the property of the 
 Abbot of Tavistock. And the remains of a bam, 
 of considerable extent, with bold projecting but- 
 tresses, built, probably, about the same period with 
 the Abbey, prove it to have been a place of no mean 
 consequence. Indeed, the Abbot was called to the 
 House of Peers, in the time of Henry VIH. by the 
 title of Baron Hurdwick. 
 
 " At the nortliern extremity of Hcathfield, Brent 
 Tor is a conspicuous object. In Gibson's edition of 
 Camden's Britannia, we are informed that Brent 
 Tor is a name signifying ' a high rocky place.' As
 
 XIV.] BRENT TOR. 251 
 
 Tor alone can lay claim to the greater part, if not the 
 whole of this definition, (for tur, tower, turris, are all 
 of the same import, meaning something elevated; 
 and tor, moreover, is generally, at least in Devon- 
 shire, coniinedto a rocky hill,) i\\e first syllabic, and 
 thus the very name of the place itself, is totally 
 omitted. 
 
 " Brent is the participle of hrennen, to burn. And 
 little doubt can be entertained that Brent Tor was 
 an ancient beacon, iipon which wood, turf, or other 
 rude articles of fuel, were burnt by way of signal; 
 and we know that the church upon its summit is even 
 at present 'a famous sea mark.' Four or five 
 tumuli, about a mile distant, on Heathfield, are stiU 
 called the Beacons. It was probably, in the time 
 of the early Britons, a stronghold, or hill fort ; as, 
 on the northern side, may be traced two or three 
 mounds, that seem to have been raised for the pur- 
 pose of defence. 
 
 " The summit of this lofty eminence is generally so 
 damp and wet, that the ver}' coffins are said to float 
 in the vaults. This, no doubt, is greatly exagge- 
 rated : but most of the hills on Dartmoor are so wet 
 and boggy, from being frequently covered ^^ith mist, 
 that thej^ j^^stly might be designated as 'cloiid- 
 capt tors.' In addition to which, the western Minds, 
 being here the most prevalent, bring the clouds from 
 the Atlantic ocean ; and these, surcharged with 
 vapour, from crossing such an immense expanse of 
 water, are attracted and broken by the hills of Devon- 
 shire. This, in fact, is the principal cause of the 
 humidity, but, at the same time, the perpetual ver- 
 dure, for which this country is so remarkable. 
 
 " The chvu'ch on Brent Tor is dedicated to St. Mi-
 
 252 BRENT TOR. [lET. 
 
 chael. And there is a tradition among- the vulgar 
 that its foundation was originally laid at the foot of 
 the hill : but that the enemy of all angels, the Prince 
 of darkness, removed the stones by night from the 
 base to the summit ; probably to be nearer his own 
 dominion, the air : but that, immediately on the 
 church being dedicated to St. Michael, the patron of 
 the edifice hurled upon the devil such an enormous 
 mass of rock, that he never afterwards ventured to 
 approach it. Others tell us that it was erected by 
 a wealthy merchant, who vowed, in the midst of a 
 tremendous storm at sea, (possibly addressing him- 
 self to his patron, St. Michael.) that if he escaped in 
 safety, he would build a church on the first land he 
 descried. If this was the case, he seems to have 
 performed his vow with more worldly prudence than 
 gratitude ; as it is one of the smallest churches any 
 wliere to be met with. Indeed, it frequentlv, and 
 not inappropriately, has been compared to a cradle. 
 The tower has but three small bells. It is a daughter 
 church to Tavistock ; and the Michaelmas fair, now- 
 held at the latter place, used formerly to be cele- 
 brated at Brent Tor, doubtless in honoiu- of its 
 tutelar saint. The stone still lies by the road side, 
 on which the pole with a glove, the usual concomitant 
 of a fair, was erected. Probably, however, it was 
 originally the base of a cross. 
 
 "The church stands on the very summit of the 
 rock, within a few feet of the declivity, on its most 
 precipitous side. These words, iijscribcd on a tablet, 
 are seen on tlie south wall — ' U])on this rock will I 
 build my church.' There are no monuments; but 
 tlic following rude inscription is worthy notice : — 
 ' Heare under this stone lyeth tlie bodie of John
 
 XIV.] THE GUBBINS. 253 
 
 Cole, Jun. of Litton, who departed this life the 23d. 
 of November, 1694, seta: 22. Also, Johan, his 
 sister, who was buried the 1st of February, 1694, 
 aeta: 11.' 
 
 ' If thou be serious (Friend) peruse this stone; 
 If thou be not soe : pray: let it alone. 
 Against death's poison, vertue's the best art ; 
 When good men seem to die, they but depart. 
 Live well : then at the last with us thou'lt feele 
 Bare dying makes not death, but dying ill.' 
 
 " Brent Tor is a pleasing object at a distance ; here 
 towering abruptlv, there gently rising from the ex- 
 tensive plain of Hcathfield ; but when viewed near, 
 it is too void of foreground; though a projecting 
 rock, at the north-west end, under which is a little 
 shed, or stable, gives it a prominent feature, and in 
 some degree supplies the deficiency : for as one 
 passes along the road beneath, the form of the hill is 
 perpetually varying ; and the effect is totally changed, 
 as the tower is seen on the one side or on the other 
 of this impending cliff. 
 
 " In Camden, the inhabitants of a neighbouring 
 village, called the Gubbins, are stated to be ' by 
 mistake represented by Fuller (in his Enghsh Wor- 
 thies) as a lawless Scvthian sort of people.' The 
 writer contents himself \vith asserting that it is a 
 mistake, thoxigh upon what authority does not ap- 
 pear ; as even at the present day. the term Gubbins 
 is well known in the vicinity, though it is applied to 
 the people, and not the place. They still have the 
 reputation of having been a ^\^ld and almost savage 
 race ; and not only this, but another name, that of 
 cramp-eaters, is still applied to them by way of re- 
 proach. 
 
 " Instead of buns, which are usually eaten at 
 country revels, in the ^^'cst of England, the inhabi-
 
 254 CRAMP EATERS. [lET. 
 
 taiits of Brent Tor could produce nothing but cramps, 
 an inferior species of cake ; probably owing to the 
 badness of their corn, from the poverty of the soil. 
 Thus they were called cramp-eaters, as the v/hiskered 
 warrior in the Batrachomyomachia, or battle of the 
 froo's and mice, of Homer, was denominated Sito- 
 phagus, or cake-eater. And if a had pun may be 
 allowed, they might be learnedly called cacophagi. 
 We know that the gipsies are descended from the 
 Egyptians; but, notwithstanding Fuller's credit is 
 thus fully re-established, we must not venture to 
 suppose that the modern inhabitants of Brent Tor 
 aspire to carry back their genealogy to the ancient 
 Scythians ; particularly as history informs us that 
 their country was not held in high esteem, even by 
 its natives. For a certain petulant Greek objecting 
 to the celebrated Anacharsis that he was a Scythian, 
 ' True,' says Anacharsis, ' my country disgraces me, 
 but you disgrace your country.' 
 
 " If, however, longevity be a characteristic of sa- 
 vage nations, the inhabitants of Brent Tor will not, 
 perhaps, be displeased at being compared to them 
 in this particular. There is now living among them 
 a woman called Elizabeth Williams, of the age of 
 one hundred and six, who still retains the full 
 possession of her faculties. She says she was mar- 
 ried at the age of twenty-four, at Lamerton. And 
 by the parish register of that place, it appears that 
 this occurred in April, 1736 ; so that, if this account 
 be correct, she can be no more than ninet3--eight 
 years old. Her maiden name was Blatchford. 
 
 " It may not be imintcresting here to subjoin 
 Mr. Polwliele's notice of Brent Tor rock, extracted 
 from his I^evon. ' The summits of these (the Dart- 
 moor) Tors are found to be composed, in general.
 
 XIV.] MR. POLWHELE ON BRENT TOR. 255 
 
 partly of granite and partly of dark brown iron-stone, 
 which in some places appears to have been in a state 
 of fusion. Brent Tor, and several other tors on the 
 west side of the river, are vmdoubtedly volcanic. 
 Brent Tor is very curious ; it being one mass of hill, 
 rising to a great height from a perfect plane, and 
 entirely divested of every thing of the kind besides 
 itself, and differing from all other tors which we 
 visited. We found it covered, between the rocks, 
 ^^^th a fine verdure, and ever}' indication of a very 
 rich soil, far different from the heath which surrounds 
 it. We brought away some bits of the rock, Avhich, 
 in general, is a deep rusty blue, inclining to black, 
 hard and heavy, with pores here and there as if 
 worm-eaten ; some of the pores contain a little of a 
 brownish red earth, but whether of the ochre kind 
 we could not determine. Near the top of the tor 
 some pieces were found more porous, even re- 
 sembling a cinder, or piece of burnt bread, and very 
 light ; we supposed it to be a variety of tophus. 
 Another observation was verv strikingr, that this tor 
 does not contain a single particle of granite, that we 
 could discover. In this it differs from most of the 
 other tors we visited, though we found some on the 
 west side of the river Lid, which contained stones of 
 a similar porosity. From the above observations, 
 wc were led to believe that this remarkable tor was 
 the effect or remains of some lono'-ao-o extino;uished 
 volcano ; as, in its appearance, Jbituation, soil, strata, 
 &c., it argues strongly for it. It bears, also, a great 
 similarity to the description in Brydone's Tour 
 through Sicily, &c., of the hills which he calls 'the 
 offspring of Etna.' " 
 
 Allow me to remain yours, &c. 
 
 A. E. Bray.
 
 256 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Source of the Tavy on Dartmoor — North Crockern-tor — 
 Account of some verj' curious circles found in this excursion — 
 Longbetor — South Beetor — Bel-tor, or Belletor — Excursion to 
 Tavy Head — A Farmer becomes guide — Upright stone marks the 
 spot of the grave of a suicide — Cranmere Pool — Source of the river 
 Tavy — The tracks of foxes seen — A hare chased by a fox — Super- 
 stition respecting the spirits condemned to the pool — ^The guide's 
 credulity — His account of having been himself bewitched by an 
 old woman — Extraordinary walking race mentioned by the Far- 
 mer — Head of the river Walkham — Crossing the fen — Peter Tor, 
 a fortified stronghold — The romantic and melancholy story of 
 George Stevens related. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, May Vdth, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I PURPOSE sendino; vou, in this letter, an account 
 of the source of the river Tavy, v.hich rises on 
 Dartmoor, and flowing- through the adjacent country, 
 gives name to Ta^•istock, wliich is situated on its 
 banks. But wishing to be as regular as I can, I 
 sliall continue my extracts from Mr. Bray's Journal 
 in the order in wliich I find it A\Tittcn. The follow- 
 ing brief notice of some Druidical vestiges comes 
 before liis account of the source of the Tavy. It is 
 dated — 
 
 " Sept. 20th, 1802. As the family had determined
 
 XV.] RIVER TAVy. 257 
 
 on going to Bair-down this day, I was glad to be 
 of the party, to continue my observations towards 
 the north of Crockern-tor, whicli I had lately visited. 
 After passing Merrivale bridge, we thought we saw 
 a circle or two on the right of the road, in a valley 
 where there are directing-posts from Tavistock to 
 Ashburton. As I had not been exactly on that spot 
 before, we proceeded to it ; and the first circle we 
 fovmd was fifty-six paces in diameter ; including a 
 smaller one to the westward, another to the south-east 
 and a third to the north-east. That to the west- 
 ward had a diametrical line intersecting it. To the 
 north and south were two or three large flat stones 
 set on end ; and in the circle were some rocks, which 
 possibly might have served the purpose of altars. 
 
 " At a little distance from this is another circle, 
 or rather three parts of one ; for a portion is very 
 rudely traced : it is one hundred and sixteen paces 
 in circumference. Adjoining, bvit on the outside, is 
 a smaller circle, with a diametrical line, and Avithin 
 it are two others, somewhat large, connected with 
 the circumferential line. On the ovitside of this 
 is a large fiat rock, which serves as a back to v.hat 
 was once, I conjecture, an altar-hearth, as there are 
 some stones, now partly throAvia down, that form a 
 square before it. Near this spot were three or four 
 smaller ones, not deser\dng any particular notice. 
 
 " Continuino- our route to the left, on the east we 
 arrived at a small tor on the acclivity ascending to 
 Hessory tor, on which is a basin two feet and a half 
 long and six inches deep. My father, who had never 
 before seen a rock basin, was convinced, though this 
 was by no means a regular one, that it must have 
 been a work of art. We fell into the road again at
 
 258 BELLETOR. [leT. 
 
 Eundle's stone, on which, on the south side, is the 
 letter R, in alto relievo. Hence I had often thought 
 I perceived to the east-south-east a tower ; and 
 though every person who had lieard nie mention it 
 considered it as supposititious, I, by means of a 
 glass, noAv saw it A^ery distinctly : from its direction 
 as well as appearance, I think it must he Lord Cour- 
 tenay's Belvidere. 
 
 " My father left me at Bair-down ; and I resolved 
 to visit by myself the tors, four in number, to the 
 east of the Cart. The first tor is just above Wist- 
 man's Wood : it is called Longbetor. On one stone 
 I found three imperfect basins ; on another a shal- 
 loAV one ; and on a third, three more, also imperfect. 
 This tor bears evident marks of having suffered 
 from some concussion of the earth ; for the strata 
 lie in all directions, and some piles of rocks have 
 fallen from their perpendicular, and, thoagh falling 
 against others, have not separated. At South 
 Beetor, on the same ridge, there is a basin two feet 
 and a half in diameter : it is shallow. Waydown 
 tor, though much the highest of the four, has no- 
 thing remarkable, excepting the view, which is very 
 extensive. It is almost the only tor of such a height 
 that is covered with grassy tm-f. 
 
 " Belletor (or Bell tor) * has on its summit a cir- 
 cular mound of stones, hollow in the middle, with 
 two little piles at the east and west. This is evi- 
 dently artificial ; as there are no loose stones near, 
 excepting those fallen from the top. A rock or two 
 to the north had nothing worthy notice. In many 
 
 * Su])pose(l, as stated in a former letter, to derive its name from 
 Bel, or Bulus, the sun, worshipped by the Britons.
 
 XV.] EXCURSION TO TAVY HEAD. 259 
 
 places the ground was bogg}- ; I was obliged, wlien 
 this was the case, to tie my horse to some rushes, 
 not Avithout some degree of fear that he would cat 
 himself loose." 
 
 EXCURSION TO TAVY HEAD. 
 
 KROM THE JOURNAL OF THK SAME. 
 
 " Sept. 22. After taking an early breakfast, ac- 
 companied by my friend, I set out to visit Tavy- 
 head. We went first to the village of Peter Tav}'', 
 where my father had recommended me to make in- 
 quiry of a farmer of the name of Mudge. We met 
 two men driA*ing sheep to Tavistock market, and, 
 on applying to them for information, found it was 
 the farmer and his son. On learning who we were, 
 he insisted on accompanying us himself, and accord- 
 ingly returned for a horse ; and to be more expe- 
 ditious, mounted him without any saddle. 
 
 '' We soon found he was well acquainted vnih all 
 the western parts of the moor. Indeed he was com- 
 municative in every respect ; and informed us that 
 he had a large family ; which, at times, from misfor- 
 tunes and losses, he should not have been able to have 
 brought up. had it not been for the many kindnesses 
 of his landlord, who, amongst others, permitted him 
 to pay his rent only jvist when it was convenient to 
 himself. My companion asked him who his land- 
 lord was, and I was not a little surprised to find 
 he was my father. I was gi'eatly affected at the 
 good farmer's expressions of aifectionate gratitude 
 to his benefactor, and his attentions to myself. 
 
 "Near Peter Tavy is an upright stone, where 
 was b'aried a man who, some years ago, poisoned
 
 260 EXCURSION TO TAVY HEAD. [lET. 
 
 himself in consequence of the infidelity of his mis- 
 tress. We first rode to Limebarrow, which is an 
 immense heap of stones, with a httle cavity on the 
 top : in the centre is a large stone. It is eighty-five 
 paces in circumference. The tor near it^ a very low 
 one, has nothing worth notice. 
 
 " About half a mile farther, we left our horses to 
 the care of some persons who were employed in 
 carrying away ' tunes' (peat) and proceeded on 
 foot towards Cranmere Pool, the source of the river 
 Tavy. If we had not taken a guide it would have 
 been impossible to have attempted it ; for even as it 
 was, Ave were half way up the leg every instant in 
 crossing a bog, or morass, of two miles in extent, 
 and another soon after of the same dimensions. At 
 a spot Avhere the verdure was entirely carried away 
 by water, and Avherc there was nothing but soft 
 black peat, we ascended a circular mound, seem- 
 ingly artificial, whence wc had an extensive view : 
 to the south Beltor, and Way-down tor, with the 
 tors on Bair-down, and Hessory tor ; to the west 
 Gestor, Furtor, West Hantor, Sharpy-tor, and Sour- 
 ton-tor ; to the north, Amarcombe, West Miltor and 
 East Miltor, Rowtor, and others, with I believe 
 Sheperton, Wild and Watern tors. 
 
 " To the north-east we perceived a flag on a hill 
 about a mile distant, to which we went, and con- 
 jectured it was affixed there by those employed in 
 the trigonometrical survey of the county; though 
 one would think, from its not being worn, that 
 it had been but lately erected. The Dart rises at a 
 little distance from it. 
 
 *' We saw frequently the track of foxes ; and our 
 guide informed us that once he had seen a fox in
 
 XV.] CRANMERE POOL. 261 
 
 chase of a hare. This is a fact rather new, I beUeve, 
 in natural history. About a mile farther, in the 
 midst of a bog of a considerable extent, we found 
 Cranmere Pool. It is not, as represented in the 
 map. on the top of a hill, but in a low part of the 
 bog-; however, the bog itself is on high ground. 
 The pool was dry, and through it we observed the 
 foot-marhs of a fox. I walked into it some little 
 distance ^\ithout sinking higher than my ancle. It 
 does not appear to be more than a hundred feet in 
 diameter ; nor can the water itself be more than six 
 or eight feet deep when it is full. I am inclined to 
 think that its size m\ist have been exaggerated by 
 the fears of those who viewed it only at a distance ; 
 for in wet weather it cannot well be approached. 
 Indeed, at present, we found many deep holes 
 around it full of water, and partly covered with long 
 grass, so thick that it required the utmost circum- 
 spection to wade along in safety. 
 
 " Our guide informed us that it is believed spirits 
 are here condemned to suffer. Our guide, indeed, 
 was not very sceptical ; for he said that an ill- 
 minded old woman, who is still alive and lives near 
 him, had hewUched himself, so that for seventeen 
 weeks he never slept an hour, nor ate more than a 
 biscuit or two ; that he never felt hungry nor sleepy ; 
 that always at twelve o'clock at night, precisely, 
 such pains as of pricking of pins, would so torment 
 him in his side, that he was obliged to be taken out 
 of bed, and that then he would sit up till six o'clock 
 in the morning, when these tortures regularly left 
 him ! 
 
 " The pool is about eight miles from Peter Tavy, 
 and within three of Zeal, near Oakhampton. On
 
 262 PETER TOR. [let. 
 
 our remarking to our guide how lustily he walked, 
 he informed us his age was sixty-five, but that 
 he could never walk so well as his son, who, for the 
 wager of a guinea, had run eleven miles in forty-five 
 minutes, from Tavistock bridge to Nackersknoll. 
 
 " Returning from Cranmere Pool, we again 
 crossed the Tavy, which is here a little rivulet. 
 We also saw the head of the river Walkham. We 
 mounted Furtor, on which is a basin two feet and a 
 half in diameter, and eight inches deep. There, also, 
 are two small contiguous basins, one of which has a 
 perforation communicating v/ith the side of the 
 rock. 
 
 " Hence we again waded to our horses, after walk- 
 ing about ten miles across the fen. We were not a 
 little heated and fatigued ; but, had it not been for a 
 pretty brisk Avind, we should have been much more 
 so. We rode about half a mile, and, coming to a clear 
 stream, went to dinner on a venison pasty, which I 
 had carried in my valise, and quenched our thirst 
 Avith grog. Soon after we took leave of our good 
 old guide, and went to Peterstone rock, the liighest 
 stone of which, about forty years ago, he said had 
 been split in pieces by lightning. 
 
 " Peter Tor was evidently a fortified stronghold, 
 as it is surrounded by a mound of stones, and, in the 
 midst, three or four rocks are encompassed with the 
 same. Hence is a distant view of the Sound, &c. 
 The tor is composed of black granite, covered Avith 
 moss. The strata are not, as usual, horizontal but 
 jagged, and generally perpendicular. EeloAv it is a 
 large oval ridge of stones, one hundred and thirty- 
 three paces long, Avith seven small internal circles. 
 From a tor near Peter TaAy is a very fine and ex-
 
 XV.] GEORGE STEVENS. 263 
 
 tensive view — the Avinding river, Tavistock, Mount 
 Edgcumbc, Kit Hill, Brentor, &c." 
 
 In the first part of the above account, which I have 
 extracted from his old Journal, Mr. Bray mentions 
 the uprig'ht stone that marks the spot where a young 
 man was buried who had poisoned himself, in con- 
 sequence of the infidelity of his mistress. That spot 
 is at the meeting of four cross-roads, now grass- 
 grown ; it is knoAra by the name of Stevens's grave. 
 The death of this unhappy suicide occurred many 
 years ago ; but I have endeavoured to learn such 
 particulars of the melancholy story, as could be 
 gleaned from the accounts given by a few old per- 
 sons who had heard all about it in their youth.* 
 The tale is not devoid of interest. It is indeed one 
 of those tragedies in real life that are sometimes 
 chosen as the foundation on which to build a work 
 of fiction. As far as melancholy incident may be 
 concerned, the following circumstances, I think you 
 vrill say, need no addition. 
 
 The name by wliich the little lonely mound of 
 earth, marked by its vipright stone, is still known in 
 tliis country, declares that of its unfortunate tenant ; 
 and ages will in all probability pass away before 
 Stevens's grave will be forgotten, or before the 
 superstitious dread is no more, which now makes 
 the neighbouring peasantry shun the spot, after sun- 
 down, where the condemned spirit of the suicide is 
 still believed to walk from midnight to cock-crowing; 
 
 * Had I commencetl these letters before the death of the late 
 Miss Mary Adams of Tavistock (who died at a great age), I could 
 have obtained far more information on this, and all other traditionary 
 subjects, than I now possess. Miss Adams was the depository of every 
 legend or story connected with this neighbourhood, that had been 
 handed down for centuries, from generation to generation.
 
 264 GEORGE STEVENS. [lET. 
 
 since, wiili us, in so just horror is the crime of self- 
 murder held, that the poet's assertion, respecting all 
 who leave the world by their own hand, would be 
 here received A\'ithout a doubt — 
 
 "The common damned shun their society." 
 
 The Christian name of Stevens was, I believe, 
 George, but this point I have not ascertained for a 
 certainty. Yet we will, if you please, call him such 
 here ; for, though it mav be erroneous, it is of no 
 great consequence. George Stevens, then, was a 
 country youth, who followed the occupation of his 
 father, that of husbandry ; though, from his haAing 
 been to school, and possessing a quick capacity, he 
 was more educated and less rude in his manners 
 than were country lads in general, either in his day, 
 or in our own. He was. it should seem, of a sus- 
 ceptible, thoughtful, and grave nature. In fact, 
 he was exactly that sort of character where the 
 deepest and the strongest feelings are ever found 
 to exist, though wholly unsuspected by their com- 
 mon acquaintances, who look only on the surface of 
 things, just as an idle observer looks on a still and 
 quiet pool, and, because it neither rushes tumultu- 
 ously forward, nor swells itself into billows and 
 breakers, thinks not it can be of any real depth or 
 force, but estimates its power only by its appearance. 
 George, likewise, loved a book, whenever he could 
 get one; and though at this distance of time I cannot 
 possibly say what miglit have been the nature of his 
 studies, I should conclude, as there were then no 
 circulating libraries in the neighbouring town of 
 Tavistock, tliat liis books must have been such as 
 he could borrow from the village schoolmaster, or
 
 XV.] GEORGE STEVEKS. 265 
 
 find, by chance, in any farm-liouso, where he had an 
 acquaintance. 
 
 V\liatevci' they were, no doubt they assisted to 
 give a certain degree of refinement to his feeUngs : 
 and George's love of reading, in a mind so serious, 
 produced perhaps a habit of tlioughtfuhicss and 
 reflection, that was strengthened by his soUtary and 
 quiet occupations, amidst the wild scenes in which 
 he led his master s sheep to graze amongst the hills 
 and valleys in the romantic neighbourhood of Cudlip 
 town and Dartmoor. I do not know whether George 
 ever read poetry, but as he became the victim of a 
 powerful and ill-requited passion, I should be tempted 
 to fancy he had done so. For if it be true that the 
 reading of Robinson Crusoe has made many boys 
 run away, and become sailors, hov," can we doubt 
 that the reading of poetry, (more especially lovc- 
 poetr}-,) by filling the mind with images of beauty, 
 tenderness, and pericction, has made many become 
 lovers; their mistresses often being invested with the 
 charms there ascribed to the heroines of such produc- 
 tions by the excited imagination of their admirers ? 
 Be this as it may, whatever books George read, or 
 whether or not he indulged in romantic dreams,, 
 amidst romantic scenery, in his pastoral cniploy- 
 ment, certain it is he became deeply enamoured 
 with a young girl, the fame of whose beauty is not 
 even now totally extinct. 
 
 Her name was ]\Iary. And though her station in 
 society was much the same as liis own, the child of a 
 husbandman, yet her friends Avere poorer than his. 
 Her father lived in a little cottage that stood near 
 the path which George so frequently passed in 
 drivmg his sheep to pasture. She v/as young and 
 
 VOL, I. N
 
 266 GEORGE STEVENS. [lET. 
 
 beautiful, and left mucli to herself. And often, as 
 he Avent along, would he pause to gaze on IMary, as 
 she sat ''■ spinnmg or knitting in the sun" at her 
 cottage-door, and singing some rustic melody with a 
 cheerfulness that spoke a careless heart, and a spirit 
 as li<>ht as that which animated the feathered tribes 
 around her, as they seemed with theu' httle warbling 
 notes to answer to her song. 
 
 Thus was it, almost in their childish days, that the 
 acquaintance between these young persons began ; 
 and to them may be applied the lines of Words- 
 worth — 
 
 "With but a step between their several homes, 
 Twins had they been in pleasure ; 
 ***** 
 
 And strangers to content if long apart. 
 
 How soon this intimacy ripened into love, or how 
 long it was before George received her troth, as he 
 plighted to her his own, I cannot tell. But as, in the 
 simplicity of rustic life, there are no forms of etiquette 
 to be observed, and nothing that is factitious, I con- 
 clude there were no greater difficulties to be over- 
 come, than a little shyness on the part of George 
 (for true love is always modest) in telling Mary she 
 had all his heart ; and a downcast look, a blush, and 
 a corresponding feeling of modesty, possibly revealed 
 to him, even before her lips confirmed the truth, that 
 she was nothing loth to find herself the chosen of his 
 affections. There was, however, one obstacle to tlie 
 happiness of the youthful pair, which even higher 
 born and more polished lovers sometimes experi- 
 ence, — they had no money to begin the world with, 
 and their friends thought them too young to marry 
 without it. The usual counsels of time, patience.
 
 XV.] GEORGE STEVENS. 267 
 
 and hope deferred no doubt were urged to make them 
 pause before the knot was tied that never could be 
 broken. 
 
 The lovers, perhaps, thought then* case a hard 
 one ; and it was now observed that Mary did not, as 
 she used to do, sit for hours together spinning or 
 working at hei'*cottage-door, and only relic\'ing her 
 toil by her song, or by welcoming a casual acquaint- 
 ance, who stopped to be " telling with her,"' as the 
 common phrase of the county expresses a gossip 
 between two friends. Mary now found some occa- 
 sion or other to stray fi'om home ; and she would be 
 out on the down, as well as George, to look after 
 the sheep, (for her father, by dint of frugality, had 
 managed to add one or two to his little stock, in the 
 attempt to do something in the farming way for 
 liimsclf,) or water was to be fetched fi-om the rivulet, 
 or there was an errand or a message, that none but 
 Mary was so ready to carry out of doors. And on aR 
 these occasions, it chanced, such was the fortune of the 
 affair, that George Stevens was always near at hand 
 to help her. He would be seen on the hills, looking 
 after Alary's scanty flock more carefully than his 
 own; or \xiih. delight plucking for her the wild honey- 
 suckle, or any pretty flower that love taught him to 
 select as an offering to beauty. And on a holiday, 
 George and Mary were never parted : in the merry- 
 making of the village he was her partner ; so like\vise 
 in the summer evening walk ; and never was he happy 
 excepting by her side. 
 
 But alas ! 
 
 " The course of tiue love never did run smoofh:" 
 
 nor does the story of George's ill-fated attachment 
 in the least contradict the assertion of the poet. 
 
 n2
 
 268 GEORGE STEVENS. [lET. 
 
 Abovit this time there came into the neig-hbourhood 
 a young man, who took a large farm that was to be 
 let. It had a good house and plenty of land, and 
 he had Idne and all things fitting ; and was, indeed, 
 for one in his station, a very great man. In addi- 
 tion to the advantages of fortune, he was of a comely 
 person, and wore a smart coat on a Sunday ; and all 
 the country girls admired him ; and his father being 
 dead, he had no one to control his actions, so that it 
 was thought it Avould be the making of any young 
 woman on whom he fixed his eyes for a wife. But 
 those eyes, for some time, looked with indiffer- 
 ence on all, till they beheld Mary, and then they 
 looked no farther for a choice. Conscious of his 
 own qualities, both personal and otherwise, the 
 young farmer thought so little about being refused 
 for the sake of a pennyless clown, that I fear the 
 sweet-hearting of Mary with George, a circvimstancc 
 known well enough in the neighbourhood, never 
 once entered his head as likely to be any serious 
 obstacle to his wishes. Perhaps, too, he had not 
 the most exalted notions of female constancy when 
 exposed to temptation. His courtship was strongly 
 advocated by Mary's friends. And as he possessed 
 that power which worldly wealth confers, of being 
 able to advance an inferior by his notice, or to 
 depress him by withholding the employment he 
 could afford to give him on his farm, it is not im- 
 probable the father of Mary found his own interest, 
 and that of his other children, deeply concerned in 
 the success of this new suitor for his daughter's 
 hand. 
 
 Tlie situation of George was now pitiable : he was 
 discountenanced ; and Mary kept as much as pos-
 
 XV 
 
 ,-.] GEORGE STEVENS. 2G9 
 
 sible witliin doors, in order to put a stop to those 
 coimtry walks and pretty pastimes Avliicli had hitherto 
 brought her and her old sweetheart so much together. 
 Let me not be unjust, howev^er, to her memory; since 
 though common report averred that George died in 
 consequence of her infidelity, there is no proof, that 
 I could ever find, that she really was unfaithful. This 
 part of the tale is involved in much obscurity. To 
 hazard, therefore, even some conjectures, in attempt- 
 ing to unravel the cause that led to the catastrophe, 
 may be admissible. It is not improbable that the 
 vanity of IMary was flattered that a poor girl, like 
 herself, could win the affections of a man wlio 
 would have been considered a great match for any 
 wealthy farmer's daughter all the country round. 
 She was envied her supposed good fortune. And 
 how apt is this very circumstance to pamper self- 
 love, to raise airs of importance and of triumph, that 
 injure, if they do not destroy, the most amiable feel- 
 ings of the female heart ! So that if she did not 
 actually accept the farmer as a suitor, I should 
 apprehend, by what followed, that she must have 
 received him with complacency ; and this, with a 
 lover, was not the way to extinguisli his hopes. For 
 my own part, I am willing to consider her conduct 
 in the most charitable view, and to think that fear 
 might have had as large a share in her apparent 
 infidelity as vanity itself. She fancied, perhaps, that 
 she ought not altogether to risk the benefit her 
 father received from her lover's notice and assist- 
 ance, by a too rude or abrupt rejection of his suit. 
 Poverty, indeed, has many ways of temptation to 
 evil. Even her father himself /Triy/i^ (I do not say 
 he did) have appealed to her feelings of duty and
 
 270 GEORGE STEVENS. [lET. 
 
 affection, and might have begged her not to deprive 
 him of a friend so important to his welfare, who had 
 become sucii solely on her account. 
 
 But be this as it may, certain it is poor George 
 now felt all the misery of neglect and ill-requited 
 affection. His deep and powerful feelings, which, 
 to the common eye, had been concealed under a 
 calm demeanour in happier days, now, like hidden 
 iires, burst forth with fearful Adolence, and one rash 
 act was but the prelude to another. Previous, how- 
 ever, to this storm of passion (which I am about to 
 relate) he had struggled to forget one who, he feared, 
 no longer deserved his affection. But the very effort 
 to do so kept alive that fatal remembrance. He 
 neglected his business ; he grew melancholy, careless 
 of himself, and took no interest in anything around 
 him ; often wandering out on the moor, and particu- 
 larly haunting one spot where he had been accus- 
 tomed to sit on a mound of earth, imder a tree, to 
 watch the coming of Mary, as she would steal away 
 from home, and, with the foot of a fairy, would trip 
 up the hill to meet him. 
 
 It was on that spot he had delighted to pay her 
 his little services of love, to give her flowers, (they 
 were all he had to give,) and to receive from her the 
 often renewed assurance that she loved him more 
 than all the world. There would George sit, hour 
 after hour^ and still, at intervals, bring flowers, as if 
 he would cheat reality with some fond fancy of his 
 own creation. But, alas ! there was no INIary to 
 receive the gift, no kind hand, no laughing and 
 eager eye to meet his, and bid him welcome. Lonely 
 and deserted, he would cast down his flowers, even 
 as Mary had cast down all the hopes she had once
 
 XV.] GEORGE STEVEISS. 271 
 
 raised in his heart to raalvc him happy. And now, 
 may be, he thought, as he sat, of the story he had 
 many times read, when a boy, of the bean which had 
 been sown by Hope till it grew into a fair plant, 
 towering- to the skies ; and then came the giant 
 Disappointment, with a curtal axe, and in one mo- 
 ment the irrowth of months and seasons was no more. 
 
 At length his feelings changed their character, 
 but not their force, a sense of injury surmounted 
 every fear. A sense, also, too deeply cherished, that 
 Mary, by whom he was once so fondly loved, would 
 still hold him dear, did she but know the strength of 
 his affection, made him resolve, reckless of all else, 
 to secure her even bj- the sight of his very despair, 
 if no other means might be left to awaken her feel- 
 ings. In this tempest of passion, he set out for the 
 cottage ; but chancing to meet in his way the rival 
 who had destroyed his peace, George attacked him 
 vdih such frenzy, that he had just cause to fear he 
 had laid himself open to the power of the law, which 
 his antao'onist threatened to use ao-ainst him. 
 
 After this quarrel, it appears that George once 
 more saw Mary. What passed at that interA-iew I 
 know not ; but it is probable she entered into some 
 explanation vdih him relative to her late conduct. 
 She might also have promised to dismiss liis rival 
 for ever from her sight. It is hkcly something of 
 this kind passed, as George, that night, returned to 
 his home, in a more calm and tranquil state of mind 
 than he had done for many weeks before. I am 
 willing to hope that ]Mary did not intend to deceive 
 him ; for George, it was said, had betrayed to her 
 his dreadful and A\'icked design on his own life, if 
 he ever again saw his rival in her company. It is
 
 272 GEORGE STEVENS. [lET. 
 
 not impossible that the desire she entertained to 
 serve her father, the hope to soften her refusal, so 
 as still to preserve her rich suitor as that father's 
 friend, mig-ht have suggested to her the imprudent 
 step she now took, a step so likely to be misappre- 
 hended by a jealous and impassioned mind. She 
 sought, or consented to hold, an interview Viitli the 
 farmer, not under her father's roof, but in the open 
 fields ; and, as if fate had prepared the most bitter 
 trial for the unfortunate George, whilst walking and 
 earnestly conversing with the suitor, whom she had 
 promised to dismiss for his sake, he saw her seat 
 herself Avith him under the very tree Vv'here he had 
 so often met her, Avhen she was his own Mary, without 
 a doubt of her fidelity. 
 
 Whether or not George met her after this, if he 
 sought any explanation of her purpose in granting 
 the meeting to his rival or no, I cannot tell ; all that 
 I can relate is, that, already labouring imder the 
 effects of a feverish and irritating state of mind, 
 hurried aw^ay by passion and grief, and " not having 
 the fear of God before his eyes,'' George Stevens 
 rushed home on the evening of the same day, and 
 took the poison, which in a few hours proved 
 fatal. The inquest brought in a verdict of self- 
 murder. No funeral rite was performed ; and his 
 remains were buried, according to the laAv, then in 
 full force, with a stake driven through the body, 
 where four cross-roads meet. The spot, to this day, 
 is called Stevens's Grave. Of the fate of tlie un- 
 happy Mary, whose imprudence or infidelity pro- 
 duced these dreadful events, 1 know nothing, and 
 all inquiry has hitherto proved vain. In the above 
 tale fas stories seldom lose any part of their terrors
 
 XV.j SMITTEN-HART LANE. 273 
 
 by transmission from one generation to another) 
 there may be, and I dare say there is, some exagge- 
 ration : but certain it is the wretched man died in 
 consequence of his ill-requited love. 
 
 Near Stevens's grave are two places that bear re- 
 markable names, the one being called 2?^acA.- Shields, 
 and the other, Smitten-Hart Lane. I heard these 
 flames with a glow of delight, because I felt certain 
 that some old story or legend must be connected 
 with places thus designated. But all inquiry was 
 useless. One silver-headed elder, more than eighty 
 3'ears old, whom I questioned very closely at Cudlip 
 toAvn, said that he "did tliink he had heard his 
 grandmother, when he was a boy, tell some story 
 about Smitten-Hart Lane." But he shook his white 
 locks, and added, he now knew nothing about " they 
 old fancies." 
 
 Yet the very names of those places afford a hint 
 for a tale of poetry or romance, to one who loves to 
 indulge in the airy-castle building of the imagina- 
 tion, a very harmless occupation, and a very delight- 
 ful one : and you will smile, perhaps, when I tell you 
 that, not being able to find a tradition for either of 
 those prettily named spots, I amused myself, as I 
 rode home, in making one for both ; such, however, 
 being wholly fictitious, have, of course, no admission 
 in these letters. Hoping that the little melancholy 
 episode (for such, perhaps, it may be called) of 
 George Stevens may have afforded you some interest 
 in the relation. 
 
 Allow me to remain, my dear Sir, 
 
 Very respectfully and faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray. 
 
 n5
 
 274 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Excursion to Tavy Cleave — Beautiful eiFects of light 
 and shade on the lofty tors — Rocks above Tavy Cleave — 
 Their singular character — Arthur's Seat — Tavy Cleave described^ 
 Approach to the river — Dry incrustation of foam — Bed of the 
 river, &c. — Gertor — Sharpy Tor — Air Tor — Life of a Lamb saved — 
 Fall from a horse — Return — Interesting excursion upon the rail- 
 toad — Names of the tors variously pronounced — spoliation among 
 the tors — Curious process in working the granite described — The 
 picturesque scenes around the rail-road — Architecture in which 
 granite is used with most effect — Better for pillars than pilas- 
 ters, &c. — The subject continued — Remarks on various styles of 
 architecture — On that employed on the gateway of Dartmoor 
 Prison — Picturesque appearance of a figure at work — Immense 
 machinery — Blocks of granite, &c. — King Tor — Huts for la- 
 bourers — Singular appearance of the men at work, clustered 
 around, and almost hanging like bees, among the detached rocks — 
 Destruction of these magnificent works of nature, the Tors, de- 
 plored — Granite enough to be found without destroying the Tors- 
 Caves, or catacombs would be formed by under-ground excava- 
 tions — Mines might also be discovered — Allusion to Columbus — 
 Bark seen dropped in the road — Wistman's Wood probably in dan- 
 ger — Excursion resumed — Effects of a storm on the roads — Swell 
 Tor — Difficulty of distinguishing the Tors — A vehicle observed 
 near Merrivale bridge — Dartmoor prison near the rail-road — Dense 
 fog — First spoliation of the Moor seventy years ago— The present, 
 there going on, far greater and irreparable. 
 
 Vicarane, Tavistock, May 23il, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I SEND you, in this, some account, written by 
 Mr. Bray, of our excursion to 
 
 TAVY CLEAVE, ON DARTMOOR. 
 ''Sept. 8tli, 1830. In our progress towards Tavy 
 Cleave, Avliilst stood before us two of the summits
 
 XVI.] TAVY CLEAVE. 275 
 
 of tliose lofty tors that surround it, \vc saw between 
 them, stretcliing to the remotest horizon, a number 
 of intersecting hills, on which the light from the 
 different distances was continuall}- shifting, the tors 
 themselves being in the deepest shadow. It in- 
 stantly reminded me of the eff'ects produced by the 
 gently alternating light and shadow of the Diorama. 
 It is seldom that such a scene is found in nature, 
 ■where the fore-gi-ound remains fixed in gloom, and 
 light and shade seemed to chase each other over 
 the varied landscape ; because, in general, we see a 
 continuation of extent, and the gradual, and there- 
 fore almost imperceptible changes that take place ; 
 whilst here the different points of distance were so 
 happily combined, that the eye, as it glanced from 
 one to the other, beheld one illuminated and the 
 other obscured, now in succession and now in oppo- 
 sition, as the flitting clouds passed over them. 
 
 " The rocks above Tavy Cleave are not so much 
 composed of the usual strata of granite as they are 
 a conglomeration of small disjointed parts. Im- 
 mediately below one of the walls (for such, therefore, 
 we may call them) of the summit, the stones appear 
 to have been thrown, by the hand of nature, into a 
 circular direction. Indeed, one might almost fancy 
 them to have been ejected from the crater of a vol- 
 cano as in a whirhnnd, and not to have lost their 
 rotatory motion on their descent. Most of them 
 being on their edge, they look like petrified Avaves, 
 and may be compared, perhaps, to the Mcr de Glace, 
 not however in ice, but granite. 
 
 " Two of these broad masses of rocks are diA-ided 
 by an aperture, through which, with most advantage, 
 may be viewed the scene below. Between a bold
 
 276 TAVY CLEAVE. [lET. 
 
 declivity on tlie left, divided into two or three 
 pointed eminences, and another less precipitate on 
 the right, winds in a deep ravine or cleft (which 
 probably gives name to the spot) the Tavy, at first 
 over some shelving rocks, that give rise to long 
 filaments of foam, and then to a broad white belt, in 
 a transverse direction ; till, meeting with a ridge, or 
 perhaps a fissiire (for the cause is invisible) it as- 
 sumes, even amid its own dark waters, the appearance 
 of a cascade, equally white Avith foam; and at last 
 transforms itself, as it were, into a deep black pool. 
 
 " On descending the summit towards the south, 
 we came to a spot which, as it reminded me of the 
 sensations I experienced in reading the account that 
 Sir Walter Scott, in one of his novels, gives us of 
 the hills that overhang ' auld Ecekie,' I ventvired to 
 call Arthur's Seat ; and near it, as if to keep up the 
 illusion, there is a kind of crondech, in the midst of 
 a natural cairn. And, perhaps, from our nearer 
 vicinity to Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, the tradi- 
 tionary residence of this hero of the ' olden time/ 
 we have as great a right as the Scotch to honour 
 our crags with his name. 
 
 '■''^When we approached the river, we were almost 
 covered with what seemed showers of thistle-down. 
 But on coming closer we saw no spot on wlrich 
 thistles bv anv possibility could grow. We soon dis- 
 covered, however, that it was the efflorescence or 
 dry incrustation of foam, Avhich had collected be- 
 tween and upon the rocks beneath what I have de- 
 scribed as the cascade. It is somewhat similar, 
 perhaps, to the ecume de mcr, or petrified sea-foam, 
 of which tobacco-pipes are sometimes made. 
 
 " The bed of the river here being, principally, a
 
 XVI.] GERTOR AND SHARPY TOR. 277 
 
 horizontal stratum, seems part of the floor or origi- 
 nal crust of the earth : and, if it have undergone any 
 alteration, it is probably by a partial subsidence ; 
 whilst the tors around appear to have been elevated 
 by a projectile force, and down their sides may still 
 be seen what may be called^ perhaps, cataracts of 
 stones."' 
 
 The next extract I shall here send will be an 
 omitted passage from j\Ir. Bray's former Journal of 
 the year l!Sl4, beginning with a notice of 
 
 GERTOR. 
 
 ''A conical hill of coarse granite. The sides of 
 some of the strata appear as if pressed against one 
 another and afterwards separated, being quite smooth 
 as to the surface, and jagged as to the edges. 
 Gertor aifords a bold view of the winding ravine 
 through Avhich flows the Tavy. I next proceeded to 
 
 SIIARPYTOR. 
 
 " It well deserves the name, for some of tire points, 
 almost in a perpendicular direction, appear as sharp 
 as the head of a spear. There are four eminences 
 at a short distance from one another overhan^'in"- 
 the Taw. Air Tor, or Hare Tor, to the north of the 
 former, commands a very extensive view, looking 
 down upon Lidford Castle. On tlie vcrv summit is 
 seen a kind of natural mound of eartli, where ap- 
 pears also something like a circle. It is, however, 
 holloAv in the centre, and there was in it the burrow 
 of a rabbit or other small animal. On the south- 
 west side the granite is coarse, mingled with a 
 square-shaped white spar. Here is a small oval 
 basin. In going to this tor, I was obliged to leave
 
 278 DARTMOOR RAIL-ROAD. [lET. 
 
 my liorsc at a distance, owing to the boggy nature 
 of the soil. On returning, I heard the bleating of a 
 sheep very near, but looking around, discovered no 
 signs of one. I found, however, that it proceeded 
 from nearly beneath me, and at length ascertained 
 that it was a lamb which had got under the rocks. 
 I at first, through the interstices of the rock, saw 
 its nose only ; but at last succeeded in dragging 
 it out by its legs. Thus, my journey, long and 
 fatiguing as it was, would have been amply recom- 
 pensed had it only afforded me the opportunity of 
 saving the life of this harmless animal. I next 
 visited the lower part of Air Tor to the north ; and 
 observed some few projecting nodules of shining 
 mundic in the granite. Between this and the next 
 tor there is a small artificial karn with a concavity, 
 and two sharp pointed heaps on its edge. On riding 
 down the hill, my horse entangled his foot between 
 the rocks, and by the violent effort he made in extri- 
 cating himself, which was so great as to tear off his 
 shoe, I was thrown over his head ; but most proA-i- 
 dentially with no other hurt than slightly bruising 
 my leg, and spraining my hand. This, of com-se, 
 put an end to any further progress that day." 
 
 The next extract is from Mr. Bray's Journal of 
 last year. 
 
 EXCUllSION ON DARTMOOR RAIL-ROAU. 
 
 "May 17th, 1831. — Having, in the course of last 
 year, entered upon the rail-road at Roborough Down, 
 and pursued it till 1 came opposite Walkhampton, 
 when I W' as obliged to return to Tavistock, this morn- 
 ing, soon after eleven o'clock, I mounted my horse 
 to resume my exploration. Crossing Whitchurch
 
 XVI.] DARTMOOR RAIL-ROAD. 279 
 
 Do\vii, and Tolch Moor, and passing that truly pic- 
 turesque spot, Huckworthy Bridge, I rode through 
 part of Walkharapton, and entered the lane, nearly 
 in a Une with the church, that brought me to the rail- 
 road. The rail-road itself is naturally of a very 
 monotonous character. It reminded me of a s^arden 
 walk with an edging of iron instead of box. In some 
 few places granite, or what is generally called moor- 
 stone, had been substituted ; but it docs not seem to 
 answer the pm-pose, as it is of a brittle nature, and 
 therefore apt to chip. The tors on the right of the 
 rail-road, as it winds towards the moor, are called by 
 different names in Greenwood's map from those 
 wliich I collected, as well as I could, from one of the 
 Avorkmen. 
 
 " The first which is marked on the map has no name 
 attached to it *. The next is Leedon, or Leeden 
 Tor; (then Fur Tor;) then Crip Tor; then another 
 unnamed (Swill Tor) ; and then King Tor f . But, 
 according to my informant, the first is called (no 
 doubt a corruption of Inga Tor) Innator, (or, as he 
 pronounced it, Innator Tar : indeed, I have fre- 
 quently heard this reduplication of the final syllable^ 
 with the difference of only a broader accent : as 
 Coxtor-tar, Pewtor-tar,) the second Yeast Tor, the 
 third Swill Tor, the fourth and fifth King Tor and 
 Little King Tor. From the second and third having 
 so marked a reference to that recent nuisance, a beer- 
 shop, I should have thought he meant to quiz me, 
 had I not recollected that yeast is only known in 
 
 * From a plan attached to Sir T. TjTwhitt's pamphlet on the Rail- 
 road, I find it is called Inga Tor. 
 
 f According to Sir T. Tyrwhitt. Perhaps, however, after all, his 
 plan may not have been exactly followed.
 
 280 GRANITE TURRETS. [lET, 
 
 Devonshire under the name of barm. Till, therefore, 
 I gain better information as to their names, I shall 
 mention them numerically. On ascending towards 
 the first tor, I could not but lament the spoliations 
 which had been made in it by the hand of man. 
 Indeed, it was principally Avith a view to see what 
 havoc had been, and was still likely to be, made in 
 these majestic masses of roch, that I now sought 
 them; for I had observed, at a distance, patches, 
 and sometimes lono- lines of a whitish hue, in the 
 midst of these sombre eminences, which reminded me 
 of streams of lava flowing down the sides of volcanic 
 mountains ; and 1 could almost fancy that some of 
 these o-ranitic turrets had lost their battlements, and 
 perhaps even had fallen themselves as into a crater. 
 On a nearer view, the opening occasioned by the 
 deportation of some of these enormous blocks of 
 granite seemed to me like a breach in some Cyclopean 
 fortress ; the outer part of the wall that still re- 
 mained bcino: blackened and v.'orn with weather and 
 with age, whilst the fragments thrown or fallen from 
 it v,cre white and sharp edged. Of the masses 
 scattered below, some were squared, as if for tombs 
 and sepulchres; others reminded me of the teeth of 
 the maunnoth, on one of which I think Bufl^bn some- 
 where mentions that three Frenchmen could sit. 
 These were such as had been split, and had a serrated 
 appearance, by the holer, made in them for the in- 
 sertion of wedges, thus 
 
 i i ' I » '/ 
 
 t ,.y 
 
 " This tor appears to have been for some time
 
 XYI. GRAMTE BORING. 281 
 
 abandoned by the stone-cutters. But I heard from 
 another, not far distant, the ' drcadfid notes of pre- 
 paration,' occasioned liy those wlio were employed 
 in drilling such holes as I have just mentioned. 
 The mode I had hitherto seen practised for splitting 
 granite was by picking out short longitudinal inci- 
 sions v,ith a pickaxe, thus The method 
 
 now adopted is to auake perforations only, thus . . 
 . . . And this they do, not by an auger or borer, 
 somewhat like a crow-bar, with which (by dropping 
 it with a rotatory motion) they make holes for blast- 
 ing, that require a larger calibre to contain the 
 charge of powder, but with a lighter and more ele- 
 gant instrument, being a light rod of iron between 
 four and five feet in length, having a swell or grasp 
 
 in the centre, thus ^ . Indeed, it is not 
 
 much unlike an ornament occasionally introduced in 
 printing. It makes an acutcr sound than that of 
 the common borer ; and when tvro or three are at 
 work -snth it upon the same block, the sound may bo 
 said to be not altogether unmusical. It is astonish- 
 ing with what precision, after they have lifted it up, 
 that they again dart it into the hole they are deep- 
 ening. I climbed to the top of the tor, which con- 
 sisted of the usual blocks piled one upon another ; 
 and some of them being removed, I had a view of 
 their internal structure. The horizontal strata, if so 
 these blocks might be called, were intersected per- 
 pendicularly, and thus formed a kind of wall facing 
 pretty nearly south. The resemblance v.as the 
 great ei*, as there was a kind of incrustation which 
 here and there had fallen off^ and looked not a little 
 like stucco. 
 
 " The second tor was in full work, nay, might
 
 282 
 
 SKETCH FROM THE 
 
 [let. 
 
 almost be compared to an ant-hill ; to which, indeed, 
 when they have removed all its picturesque asperities, 
 it will bear a j^et closer resemblance. To malce 
 mountains of mole-hills is a common proverb. This 
 is to make mole-hills of mountains. On approaching 
 this tor, the rail-road for once assumes a picturesque 
 appearance, where it takes a sudden turn at the base 
 of a lofty rock ; Avhicli seemed, notwithstanding, al- 
 most a 'baseless fabric,' as the light was visible 
 through an aperture between the smaller stones on 
 which it was up-piled. The hills in the distance 
 formed for it a good background. 
 
 " I made a slight sketch of it in a blank leaf of my 
 pocket-book, which I have here affixed. 
 
 "■ Some huts, one a blacksmith's shop, now pre- 
 sented themselves. And before it stood a vehicle, 
 not much unlike a rude kind of \'is-a-vis, with an 
 awning. This I had observed passing on with some 
 degree of rapidity before us. I conclude that in 
 these carriages with iron wheels, though as cumbrous 
 and perhaps uneasy as the scythed cars of the 
 Britons, many pleasure-parties make excursions from
 
 XVI.] RAIL-ROAD. 283 
 
 Plymouth : for a man accosted me, and said that if I 
 wished to sec the Avorks, Mr. Johnson, or Thompson, 
 or a person of some such name, would show them to 
 me. I was not so desirous of seeing what had been 
 done as what had been left undone ; and, findins: 
 that the man was deaf, had little conversation mth 
 him, or indeed with any other : possibly so much the 
 better, as I was in a humour to give them more blame 
 than praise for their industry. At some futiu'e period, 
 I hope to visit the spot again, and to procure infor- 
 mation, not only about the works, but on subjects of 
 a more general nature, which men of any intelligence, 
 from having been long upon the spot, cannot fail to 
 have collected. In one respect their labour seems to 
 me to be misapplied; namely, their cutting and 
 squaring stones not much larger than bricks, which (as 
 if to prove that they can be applied to that purpose) 
 they have piled up in the form of low walls. But 
 granite, at least that of Dartmoor, which is of a coarse 
 and rather friable texture, cannot be worked with 
 much sharpness ; and, indeed, the beauty, or at least 
 the natural character of granite structures, is their 
 massiveness. In architecture, it cannot be disputed, 
 that to different materials a different form and struc- 
 ture is most applicable and appropriate. Rustic may- 
 be classed as concave or hollowed architecture ; fjra- 
 nitic, as convex or rounded architecture; andjwr- 
 yhyritic, as sharp, square, and angular'architccture. 
 A flight of granite steps, which may be had of almost 
 any dimensions, — for I saw to-day slabs in their 
 natural state, thirty or forty feet long, and a block 
 that was wTought, more than twenty, — should have a 
 kind of moulding at the edge like stairs in carpentry, 
 thus
 
 284 FORMS FOR [let. 
 
 ~\ 
 
 and not thus H 
 
 For tlie same reason, granite is Letter for pillars than 
 pilasters, and for round columns rather than square. 
 The remaining arches of the gateways and windows 
 of Tavistock Abbey, Avhich consist of coarse Dart- 
 moor granite, present little that can be called a sharp 
 edge; for though they have many mouldings and 
 ornaments, yet they are invariably rough and large. 
 And the pinnacles, instead of having what are usu- 
 ally called crockets (quasi little crooks ?) have, for 
 Avant of a better name, what I will venture to call 
 bosses. The granite employed in the diminutive but 
 cathedral-like church of Buckland Monachorum, 
 being of a closer grain, is enriched with sharper or- 
 naments, and comes, as I have heard, from Robo- 
 rough Down. The natural form of the tors them- 
 selves, which consists of stones piled one upon ano- 
 ther, seems to suggest a style of architecture that 
 would best suit it. If a single column were to be 
 erected, it should not be in the Corinthian, or even 
 in the Doric, or the Tuscan order ; but somewhat like 
 a candelabrum, or a minaret, or perhaps a vase thus 
 
 Indeed, the latter is not much unlike that natural 
 mass of granite in Cornwall called the Cheese wring. 
 The name, no doubt, was suggested by the stones 
 bearing some resemblance to cheeses in a press. But 
 the blocks of granite, at least on Dartmoor, are, I
 
 XVI.] GIIAKITE ARCHITECTURE. 285 
 
 think, more like loaves piled up in a baker's shop, 
 thus 
 
 Inscriptions might be cut out, on the most prominent 
 parts, in the incuse manner, and even some rough 
 ornaments in basso relievo. A fine opportunity Avas 
 lost, or rather, what is worse, abused, in regard to 
 the gateway of Dartmoor prison. As well as I re- 
 collect, it is formed thus 
 
 n 
 
 which, if it resemble any architecture, is most like 
 that of the Chinese. And what makes it more hi- 
 deous is, that you see the cramps by M'hichthis mass 
 of ugliness is joined together. The form that follows 
 might possibly have been less objectionable, and at 
 least more in character. 
 
 But. perhaps, after all, a trilithon like one of those 
 at Stonchengc, would have been the best portal : 
 thus 
 
 It was rather a curious, and, indeed, not unpictur- 
 csque siglit, to observe how difTerently the workmen 
 were employed. One man particularly struck me, 
 wlio, with a pickaxe as ponderous as a sledge hammer, 
 was standing on a very large square stone^ and pick-
 
 286 OPERATIONS ON [lET. 
 
 ing it into sliape. He seemed like a statue upon its 
 base, put in action ; as tliat of Vulcan, for instance ; 
 and I know not whether a spectacle of this descrip- 
 tion is not as much worth seeing, as the scenic groups 
 formed by our would-be classic neighbours the French. 
 The drapery, however, is not quite so well disposed ; 
 but the muscular development far better. Passing 
 under some machinery suspended over my head, 
 which satisfied me that every recourse had been had 
 to artificial as well as natiu-al powers in this work of 
 destruction, I ascended an inclined plane of great 
 breadth, on Avliich were massy chains running upon 
 rollers, and extending to a considerable distance up 
 the tor. This brought me to another huge mass of 
 machinery equally elevated. This I did not venture 
 to pass, as it was connected with two immense cranes, 
 by which the workmen were then employed in poising 
 and depositing on their unwieldy carriages the blocks 
 of granite taken from what might here be called a 
 regular cjuarry, for they seemed to have laid open 
 the very centre of the tor, Avhose summit towered 
 perhaps sixty or seventy feet perpendicularly above 
 them. When, by taking a circuit, I got to the top 
 of it and looked down, it was bke looking into the 
 bowels of the mountain. 
 
 " On proceeding to the third tor, I found that they 
 had made a considerable opening in the side, but had 
 not got so deep as in the other. Here, instead of 
 an inclined plane, they removed the masses by the 
 mere strength of horses. 
 
 " The fourth (or what I believe is King Tor) is at 
 some distance ; and, in going to it, I passed several 
 huts that seemed to be constructed for the use of 
 the labourers; some Avere little better than mere
 
 XVI.] THE RAIL-ROAD. 287 
 
 cavities to shelter them from the heat of the weather. 
 The workmen were principally clustered around, and 
 almost hanging (like bees) from what, comparatively 
 speaking, might be called detached rocks, thrown 
 about in a wild and picturesque confusion, but which 
 they will soon reduce to a mere heap of rubbish. 
 The summit of this tor is rather of a bolder cast 
 than the others, with a few recesses which might 
 almost be denominated caves. Some of these 
 masses are so perpendicular as to resemble walls ; 
 and indeed I could almost fancy myself looking out 
 from embrasures and loop-holes. Perhaps I may 
 be laughed at, if not censured, for lamenting what 
 I consider the destruction of such magnificent struc- 
 tures erected by the hand of Nature; particularly 
 as it is for the erection of habitations for the use of 
 man, or for bridges, piers, wharfs, store-houses and 
 other public edifices that are the consequence of, and 
 continue to increase, his civihzation and improve- 
 ment. But there is granite enough to be found, 
 where its removal would in every way be an im- 
 provement, without touching these hallowed vestiges 
 of a former world. What would a mineralogist say if 
 the bold and sliarp crystallizations of his finest speci- 
 mens were blunted and broken, and almost pounded 
 into dust ? How unsightly is a mine (especially after 
 it has ceased working, and its machinery is removed) 
 with its heaps of rubbish ! These workers in stone 
 would make Mist Tor (which, whether it be so called 
 from mist — for it undoubtedly might have served 
 for the habitation of the western ' Children of the 
 Mist' — or from its connexion with the mysteries of 
 Druidical superstition, for it has the largest basin 
 on the moor, hence designated by the aborigines
 
 288 CHILDREN OF THE MIST. [lET. 
 
 ' Mistor pan' — I will not pretend to decide) like 
 Kit hill. And then, as did a neighbouring- Baronet 
 on Kit hill — some future admirer of the picturesque, 
 instead of the majestic blocks of granite, 'tier above 
 tier,' might erect a puny fortification, with round 
 towers, which, when the turf that was used in filling- 
 it, is SAVollen by the next rain, will burst and show 
 the ignorance of the ensfineer that constructed it. 
 
 " I have often heard my father say, that there 
 were stones enough on Dartmoor to build all the 
 cities of Europe. I am almost afraid to mention it, 
 lest the suggestion might be adopted; but should 
 the Macadamizing system, now so much the rage, be 
 changed for the lloman mode of making roads, which 
 was by paving them with large blocks of stone, (and 
 these should seem particularly appropriate for rail- 
 roads) Dartmoor would furnish an almost exhaustlcss 
 supply. Should these clearings l)e thus fully realized, 
 it is hoped that an opposite mode of doing so to that 
 of America would be adopted ; and that, in clearing 
 it, not of wood but of stone, they will hide their de- 
 vastations by clothing them with trees. It may be 
 hoped, too, that, in the centre of the moor, (where 
 they sliould have begun these spoliations, and not 
 have thus injured the beautiful scenery on its out- 
 skirts, which 6"a?i?ioi but be seen, and which is height- 
 ened by being contrasted with that of cultivation,) 
 they will leave at least one tor in all its rude magni- 
 ficence of nature. Indeed, I am not sure but that 
 they might have added to, instead of diminishing 
 from, the interest of the scene, by quarrying under- 
 ground, and forming catacombs. I must confess 
 that I have often v.ondered and lamented that tlierc 
 are no natural caves or caverns among the tors of
 
 XVI. ] CATACOMBS. 2S9 
 
 Dartmoor, nothing that deserved any other name 
 than more fissures. These might he thus supphed ; 
 and mines too might be thus discovered, and thus 
 might they have also found a low level to imwater 
 them. I certainly should not wish to form a colony 
 of troglodytes, which would be worse than gipsies, 
 from whom, till lately, we were pretty free : but these 
 excavations might afford occasional shelter from the 
 storms ; and might enable men to work at all seasons, 
 even in the depth of winter ; for they would not be 
 prevented by snow, provided they kept the entrance 
 free from it. Nay, snow might even contribute to 
 their warmth, as it is preservative of the vege- 
 table world in the winter. Who knows but, in 
 ti;pe, the catacombs of Dartmoor may be as famous 
 as those of Egypt ? We already may be said, by 
 our tors, particularly Vixen Tor, to have her sphinx 
 and her pyramids. 
 
 " The fifth tor (which I believe is Little Kingtor) 
 I did not visit, though the rail-road wound around 
 it : for, as my time was drawing short, I beckoned to 
 my servant to bring on the horses, and returned by 
 the circles near Mcrrivale. 
 
 "Tuesday, the 24th of May, 1831.— In the morn- 
 ing there was a thick fog, but, thinking it was only 
 for heat, I resolved on resuming my excursions on 
 the moor, though at the risk of being terrified amid 
 the tors. The day before, there had been a great 
 deal of thunder, accompanied with rain, which more 
 than usually attracted my observation from falling 
 in very large drops. There were still some symptoms 
 of a stormy atmosphere; but I ventured. The road 
 immediately ascending to the moor was so cut up by 
 the floods of rain that rushed from it as to resemble 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 SWELL TOR. [let. 
 
 the bed of a torrent. A geologist might have 
 studied from it the mode of alhivial formation. At 
 the bottom of the descent there was nothing but 
 mud, then a layer of sand several inches thick, and 
 above, large stones, and the very foundation of the 
 road laid bare. 
 
 " I proceeded to that part of the rail-road which I 
 had before quitted, and found this also had not alto- 
 gether escaped the effects of the late storm. After 
 tracing it for some distance up a kind of rising valley, 
 I observed a tor, apparently of no great magnitude, 
 at my right, and determined on visiting it. Meeting 
 with some workmen, I inquired the name of it, and 
 was surprised to learn it was Swell tor, which, of 
 course, I concluded was the same I had been toH 
 before Avas Swill tor. I still, however, had my doubts, 
 and inquired the name of the next, which they said 
 was the Inclined, or Inclined Plane tor; by this I 
 found that they made no scruple to vary, and even 
 completely change the names of these tors. No 
 wonder, then, among the South Sea islands, that 
 some call it Otaheite, and others Tahiti. For, if not 
 Polynesian, in these my Polyorean researches, I could 
 seldom meet with two persons who gave me the same 
 names. Nor do I wonder at navigators mistaking 
 one island for another, when I made the mistake of 
 ascending one tor for another, though I had been on 
 it but a Aveek before. Some allowance, however, may 
 be made for me, when it is remembered that accord- 
 ing to the side by which you ascend, most tors as- 
 sume a very different appearance. And thus may 
 we conceive the facility with which navigators have 
 often mistaken an island for part of a continent, and 
 vice versa. I may here, perhaps, be allowed to
 
 XVT.] MISTAKE OF NAVIGATORS. 291. 
 
 allude to the difficulty they are under when they 
 somethnes see a strange sail at a distance, to decide 
 vrhether it be a friend or an enemy ; and at the 
 absm-d mistakes they often make in consequence. 
 
 " On ascending the hill from Merrivale bridge, I 
 observed some kind of vehicle taking a most unusual 
 direction from the road, apparently among the Druid- 
 ical circles, or rather the cursus. I certainly did not 
 take it for an ancient British chariot, not only because 
 it moved but slow, but also because it hacl a head, or 
 a\\Tiing, I almost fancied it a cargo of antiquaries, 
 or at least a party of pleasure come to explore the 
 antiquities of the spot, but, on approaching nearer, 
 I found it was a cart laden with hay. On returning 
 to the rail-road, I hesitated whether I would not 
 pursue a branch of it that led to a quarry in the side 
 of a hill under Hessory tor. I was somewhat de- 
 sirous to discover whether it was worked open or exca- 
 vated, particularly as it coincided A\ith my theory that 
 there was no necessity to demolish the tors them- 
 selves; but the fog was again coming on, and I 
 thought it more prudent to curtail my exciu'sion. 
 
 "Near this branch road is a long shed, in wliich, 
 from the sounds that came from it, I had reason to 
 believe that many were employed in hewing into form 
 the blocks that had been brought from tliis quarry. 
 And indeed I could not but conclude that it afforded 
 harder and larger masses than those I had visited on- 
 the summits of the tors, as I saw some immense co- 
 lumns lying near, which, I understood fi'om one of the 
 workmen, were to be employed in the construction of 
 some market in London. About a mile farther on, I 
 found some other parts of columns of the same di- 
 mensions. The distant tors on the right, towards 
 
 o2
 
 292 HESSORY TOR. [lET. 
 
 the south, seemed more closely clustered, and of a 
 bolder and more abrupt form than what is generally 
 met with on the moor. The new Plymouth road 
 wnds among them. The rail-road, which, at last, 
 nearly joins it, brought me to the Prison. 
 
 " The fog had become more dense, and was carried 
 by the wind in large flakes, so that on seeing them 
 approach, I at first almost mechanically closed my 
 eyes, as I should against flakes of snow or clouds of 
 dust; but as they approached they vanished into 
 thin air. I soon joined the Moreton road, and re- 
 turned to Tavistock. 
 
 " The first spoliation (if I may so call it) of the 
 moor, was, as I have heard from my father, about 
 seventy or eighty years ago, when a young man of 
 this place, on the expiration of his apprenticeship, 
 gave a kind of fete champetre on the moor, and they 
 amused themselves with throAving down such rocks 
 as were nicely poised, (some of which, perhaps, were 
 a kind of logan rock,) and having drunk punch in 
 some of the Druidical bowls, took a pleasure in 
 afterwards breaking them. The second spoHation 
 was that occasioned by removing from Crockerntor 
 the rude table of granite, around which the members 
 of the Stannary Court sat when they there held their 
 parliaments. The spoliation that is now going on is 
 on a far larger scale, and, alas ! can never be replaced 
 as Avas the logan rock in Cornwall. 
 
 " I could almost Avish tliat Don Mio;ucl were asrain 
 in England, (though I wouhl confine his tyranny to 
 the tors,) as I cannot help thinking that these free 
 masons deserve more punishment than those of Por- 
 tugal. Perhaps, however, I am more severe upon 
 tliis fraternity than they deservCj as I lost by them
 
 XVI.] SPOLIATORS. 293 
 
 an inscribed stone, and a few days ago was on the 
 point of losing another, which they had marked out 
 for a corner stone in the wall they are erecting in 
 front of the Vicaraa^e." 
 
 So concludes this portion of Mr. Bray's journal. 
 I ^^ill not now add more than the assurance that 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Very faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray.
 
 294 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Excursion to the Warren in search of the King's Oven 
 — Arrival at an old house called an Inn — Invitation to the traveller 
 held out in verse — Romantic adventure — Derivation of the word 
 Merrivale — A search after antiquities under a broiling sun — Ridges 
 of stones — Circular barrow seventy-six paces in circumference — The 
 King's Oven found — Probably a place used by the aborignal inha- 
 bitants of the moor for their barbarous cookery — A circle — A stone 
 cross — Curious remains of a British bridge examined and described, 
 found near a circular enclosure like Dennabridge pound — Visit to 
 Fitz's Well on the moor — The structure above the well proved not 
 to be so old as, by mistake, it has been represented — Not older than 
 the time of Elizabeth — Account of the well, with the tradition 
 respecting its history as connected with the pixies and Sir John and 
 Lady Fitz. 
 
 Plcarage, Tavistock, May 25th, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 My next extract from Mr. Bray's Journal will 
 yet detain yon on Dartmoor : it gives an account of 
 our excursion to the 
 
 WARREN, &c. 
 
 "27th July, 1831. — Accompanied by my wife, I 
 set out in search of the King s Oven, the name of 
 which certainly excited more than ordinary expecta- 
 tions. On reaching New House, formerly an inn, I 
 inquired of a female who was standing at the door, 
 if there were any room in the stable for my horses. 
 Her reply was that the stable was full of turf, by 
 which she meant peat. We had come fourteen miles.
 
 XVII.] . THE WARREN. 295 
 
 in an extremely hot day ; but, anticipating no great 
 accommodation for tliem, I had brought corn, and 
 therefore du'ccted my servant to lead them about, 
 and to feed them in the best manner he could. 
 " Had the stable been empty, it could aiford, I 
 
 . believe, but httle accommodation at the best, and 
 the house itself, even in its better days, though it 
 held out an iuA-itation far more magnificent than the 
 usual one, ' Entertainment for man and horse,' would 
 
 ■ perhaps have little exceeded that which is celebrated 
 in poetry as the death-scene of the profligate Lord 
 Eochcster, who is described as having died ' In the 
 worst inn's worst room.' The inscription, I am told, 
 on the sign, which I tliink I mvist have seen myself 
 when a boy, Avas, as well as I recollect, — though, as 
 
 . I doubt not it was ' spelt by the unlettered muse,' 
 could give it verbatim et literatim — 
 
 " Here is cider and beer. 
 Your hearts for to cheer. 
 And if you want meat 
 To make up a treat, 
 There are rabbits to eat." 
 
 " New House (wliich Hannaford, when he men- 
 tioned to me that the Kings Oven was at no gi'eat 
 distance from it, seemed to consider a misnomer, for 
 lie said he believed it was one of the oldest houses 
 on the moor) is sm-roundcd by a warren, which thus 
 afforded an easy opportunity of fulfilling at least tlte 
 latter part of the above promise, and they probably 
 were able to eive a Welsh rabbit into the bargain. 
 Having provided ourselves AA-ith sandAnches, in a 
 kind of cartouche box, which originally, however, 
 was made for botanizing, and a pocket pistol, vulgo 
 a small bottle of brandy, (for I would not have my
 
 296 THE WARREN. [lET. 
 
 readers expect any perilous adventures with banditti,) 
 I made no lamentations on the absence or entire 
 annihilation of most of these eatables and drinkables, 
 but contented myself with inquiring of the repre- 
 sentative of the ci-devant landlady, which was the 
 way to the King's Oven. She hardly seemed at first 
 to understand the question, and indeed was evidently 
 altogether so uninformed, that I was satisfied she 
 was not the person whom I thought I possibly 
 might find there, and of whom I had heard the fol- 
 lowing story. 
 
 " A common pack-horse driver, or carrier, was in 
 the habit of putting up at a public house on St. 
 David's hill at Exeter, which, indeed, was a pretty 
 general rendezvous for persons of this description. 
 They there, over their beer, amused themselves 
 "with singing. Whether the person above alluded to 
 sang the loudest or the sweetest, I know not, but his 
 voice was so pre-eminently distinguishable from that 
 of his companions, as to attract the attention of the 
 daughter of a clergyman who resided near. I pre- 
 sume not to say who made the first advances : it is 
 clear who made the first impressions. The result, 
 however, was that she married him, and he took her 
 as his bride to this same house in the very heart of 
 the moor. I made no inquiry about her of its pre- 
 sent inhabitant, as I thought she was as little likely 
 to give any information on matters connected with 
 romance as with those of antiquity. 
 
 " On asking, however, if she had never heard that 
 there was anything curious to be seen in the neigh- 
 bourhood, she said that she had lived there no more 
 than two years, but that once a pedlar entered the 
 house, and, remarking how much it was out of repair.
 
 XVII. J THE WARREN. 297 
 
 and that perhaps the wisest plan would be to pull it 
 down^ advised her, if such should be her resolution, 
 to build it on a spot the other side of the road, where 
 a foundation for a similar purpose had been already- 
 laid, or at least the ground dug out for it. He said 
 it was in a hne with the corner of their field near 
 the mire, by which I afterwards found she meant 
 the bog. 
 
 " And here, at the risk of being charged perhaps 
 with digression, I must mention, that on previously- 
 passing Merrivale bridge, and, farther on. Higher 
 Merripit and Lower Merripit, I had ventured to 
 account for the name of these places, by supposing 
 it derived from miry, corrupted into merry. They 
 all, especially the two latter, are near a bog. And 
 thus, if she were not the means of giving me informa- 
 tion, she Avas, as not unfrequently happens, the means 
 of my gaining it, or at least of confirming my own 
 opinion, which, I believe, with most is considered 
 equivalent to information. Though her cvmosity 
 liad never led her there, she was good-natured 
 enough, however, to assist in gratifying mine, and 
 offered to accompany us to the spot which she 
 thought was meant by the Dedlar. When I arrived 
 there, however, I was as wise as before, for I knew 
 not whether I was to see a mound or a cavity, and 
 of each of these there were many, as we were evi- 
 dently surrounded by the ' old workings ' (as they 
 are called in Devonshire) of a tin mine, which had 
 subsequently been converted into a Avarren. The 
 day was extremely hot, and, as my companion was 
 tired and almost fainting with the heat, I resolved 
 (though to think of then looking for an oven seemed 
 
 o3
 
 298 KING S OVEN. [let. 
 
 somewhat a work of supererogation) to go in search 
 of it alone. 
 
 '•' Sometimes thinking of the burning iiery fiimace 
 of Nebuchadnezzar, and sometimes of Kinsc Arthur's 
 Oven, which I believe is a kind of cromlech in Scot- 
 land, I rambled about with an umbrella over my 
 head in search of I knew not what. I thought also 
 more than once of a A\ald-goose-chace, and was 
 almost induced again and again to give it up ; but 
 tempted by the pleasure of exploring unknown 
 regions, I persevered. 
 
 " As I ascended the hill, I perceived some ridges 
 of stone, which, whether they were the remains of 
 inclosures or tracklines, I could not tell. I found 
 on an elevated point of \-iew what seemed Hke the 
 King's broad arrow, which appeared to have been 
 but recently made in the turf. And had it not been 
 so long ago, I could have fancied it one of those 
 marks made diu'ing the trigonometrical survey by 
 direction of the Ordnance under Colonel Mudge. 
 Soon after, I came to something like a small i-ude 
 circle, Mith what might have been an erect stone or 
 pillar, but now fallen, and, whether by lightning 
 or otherAA-ise, split, longitudinally and laterally, in- 
 to four parts, in pretty nearly equal proportions. 
 Advancing farther, I observed the outline of the 
 summit of the hill somewhat rough with stones and 
 rushes, and, hastening towards it, found, as I con- 
 clude, the object of my search. 
 
 "• It is a circular barrow composed of small stonesi 
 seventy-six j^aces in circmnference. Its form ap- 
 proaches but little to conical, being, I should think, 
 but three feet high. I saw on it no lichen or moss.
 
 XVII.] king's oven. 299 
 
 wliicli is generally found on structures of this descrip- 
 tion that have remained in their original form, and I 
 therefore should conclude that many of the stones 
 have, at a comparatively late date, been carried away. 
 It can boast of almost a panoramic view of consider- 
 able extent, particularly towards the north-east and 
 south. Near it is a kind of trench, about six feet 
 long, with a shorter, meeting it at right angles in the 
 centre, the sides of which are lined with stone. And 
 in the same direction are several pits, and one in 
 particular of some extent in the shape of an inverted 
 cone.* 
 
 " On our way homeward, a little before we came 
 to Merripit, I observed a circle on my right hand 
 intersected by the road ; and a little farther on to 
 the left, on the other side of the road, a stone cross, 
 nine feet and three quarters long, noAV fallen, and 
 Ipng near a circular pit. Its arms are very short, 
 but the whole is of a more regular shape and better 
 wrought than such crosses as are generally found on 
 the moor. 
 
 " At Post Bridge, I got out of the carriage to 
 measure one of the flat stones of that structure, 
 which I found to be fifteen feet by five and a half. 
 These immense slabs are supported on four piers, at 
 either extremity one, two having originally been in 
 
 * It is not improbable this was really the King's Oven, or used for 
 the purpose of baking by some British chief — since it was a custon^ 
 with the people of Britain as well as of Gaul, to dig a deep pit, line it 
 with stones, and make the stones hot by burning heath or wood upon 
 them. In similar pits, says the editor of Ossian, "they laid venison 
 at the bottom, with a stratum of stones above it, and thus did they 
 alternately till the pit was full : the whole was covered with heath to 
 confine the steam." Near these holes or pits there was generally also 
 found a " heap of smooth flat stones of the flint kind," used perhaps 
 for baking bread.
 
 300 FITZ'S WELL. [let. 
 
 the centre, of which one is fallen, and now lies in the 
 bed of the river. It was probably erected by the 
 aboriainal Britons, and mio;ht almost be taken for the 
 work of the Cyclops themselves. On passing over 
 the new bridge, near which is another cross, close to 
 the road, I observed at some distance to the right 
 a circular inclosure, somewhat similar to what I sup- 
 pose was the foundation of Dennabridge pound." 
 
 The next extract from ]Mr. Bray's Journal is an 
 account of a visit to 
 
 FITZ'S WELL, ON DARTMOOR. 
 
 "August 10th, 1831. — Having many years since 
 attempted to find Fitz's, or, as it is generally called, 
 rices well, by crossing the moor from Bair-doA\-n, 
 when my horse, on getting into a bog, so trembled in 
 every hmb, that I gave up the search, and, from some 
 circumstance or another, never resumed it ; I deter- 
 mined, this day, to renew my investigations. 
 
 " I directed my course to the house on the moor, 
 near Ilundle stone, Avhere a female offered to suide 
 us to the well. We proceeded in a northerly di- 
 rection, along the eastern bank of the leat that 
 conveys the water to the prison. After we had gone 
 about half a mile, we turned off at a risfht ano^le, 
 following the direction of what appeared to be an 
 old hedge or part of an inclosure, at no great dis- 
 tance to the left of which wc reached the well, not, 
 liowever. without some of the party getting wet in 
 the feet, as it is nearly in the midst of a bog. It is 
 situated on a gentle declivity, near Blackbrook, (over 
 which, a little lower down, is an ancient footbridge,) 
 the edifice about the well consisting of Hat slabs of 
 granite , the cover being three feet ten inches, by
 
 XVIT.] FITZ'S WELL. 301 
 
 three feet three inches. The height of this rude 
 structure is about three feet. The well, according 
 to Carringtons work, ' measures three feet square 
 by two feet and a half deep.' On the front edge of 
 the cover is the inscription, which I hesitate not to 
 say is given very incorrectly in the vignette of his 
 book. 
 
 " I am willing, however, to make every allowance 
 to the artist, as he possibly might labour under 
 similar disadvantages to myself, if not even greater ; 
 for the whole was in shadow, whilst the sun shone 
 bright behind it. Had it been at noon, or an hour 
 or two previous, for it faces nearly east, it would have 
 been partially illumined, and the shadow of the letters, 
 which are in relief, would have assisted in decy- 
 phcring them. But I am sufficiently convinced tliat 
 the letters I F are not reversed, but in their natural 
 order ; and that instead of being 1 168, it is 1568. 
 
 " I think it most likely that Fitzs well was con- 
 structed by John Fitz, the old lawyer and astrologer 
 of Fitz-ford ; whose traffic with the stars, in fore- 
 telling the fate of his only son, is still the theme of 
 tradition. 
 
 " John Fitz, the elder, was, if I may so express 
 myself, a water-fancier as well as an astrologer; for 
 he built the conduit-house at Fitz-ford ; and I have 
 in my possession his autograpli. It is thus written : 
 John Fytz ; and appears on the counterpart lease of 
 a field, giving him liberty to convey water ' in pipes 
 of timber, lead, or otherwise,' to liis mansion-house 
 at Fitz-ford. It is dated the 10th of Elizabeth. 
 Now Elizabeth began to reign 1558, and the struc- 
 ture called Fitz's well on Dartmoor was, as we have 
 seen, erected in 1568 "
 
 302 FITZ'S WELL. [let. XVII. 
 
 Since Mr. Bray wTote the above notes in his Jour- 
 nal, I have learnt from Mary Colling, who is well 
 acquainted A\ith all the traditions of her native town, 
 that the foUoAving is still told by the elders of Tavis- 
 tock, respecting Fice's Well. 
 
 John Fitz, the astrologer, and his lady, were once 
 pixy-led, whilst riding on Dartmoor. After long 
 wandering in the vain effort to find the right path, 
 they felt so fatigued and thirsty, that it was with 
 extreme delight they discovered a spring of water, 
 whose powers seemed to be miraculous ; for no sooner 
 had they satisfied their thirst, than they were ena- 
 bled to find their way through the moor towards 
 home, without the least difficulty. In gratitude for 
 tliis deliverance, and the benefit they had received 
 from the water, old John Fitz caused the stone me- 
 morial in question, bearing the date of the year, to 
 be placed over the spring, for the advantage of all 
 pixy -led travellers. It is still considered to possess 
 many healing virtues. 
 
 I have the honor to remain. 
 My dear Sir, 
 Yours, &c. &c. 
 
 Anna Eliza Bray.
 
 303 
 
 LETTER XYIII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Southern hills of Dartmoor eleven hundred feet above 
 the level of the sea — Luminous evaporations there seen — Tin 
 mines — Grey granite ; of what composed — Manganese found near 
 Moreton-Hampstead — Devonshire marbles beautiful; their form- 
 ation — Slate remarkably beautiful — The various uses to which ap- 
 plied in this county — Extraordinary carved slab of slate — Slaters 
 called Helliers — The earth often of a bright red — Crystals found in 
 it — Black garnets — Spar, where found — Loadstone on Dartmoor— 
 Prideaux' Geological Survey quoted respecting various parts of the 
 Moor — Brentor, its curiosity and geology — Black-downs, a pri- 
 maeval mountain tract — Convulsions of nature have been great on 
 the moor — Shock of an earthquake there felt — Full account of the 
 storm and its awful effects, at Widdecomb, in the year 1638 — 
 Carrington's lines on it given — Low towers of the churches on the 
 moor — Botany, wherefore here but slightly noticed — Value of some 
 knowledge of drawing ; easily attained — The golden blossom of the 
 furze magnificent in Devon — Admired by Linnecus — May-blos- 
 soms — The digitalis, or foxglove grows in the greatest luxuri- 
 ance — Whortle-berries — White clover — Wild flowers ; some of the 
 ■poetical names given to them by the peasantry — Provincial names 
 for the birds, &c. — Mr. Polwhele's account of the entomology— 
 The finny tribe — Trout excellent — Salmon plentiful — Reptiles — 
 The long Cripple-Snake and Toad seen together — Story of a 
 
 . re.narkable toad — Lizards — Adders common on the moor — The 
 Bat abundant in the ruins of an old tower in the Vicarage garden. 
 
 Pwarage, Tavistock, June \st, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 On lookino- over tlie notes I have made for 
 tliese Letters, I find several respecting Dartmoor, 
 that are of so miscellaneous a nature that I do not 
 know very well how to throw them into any con- 
 nected form; and yet I think they, contain infor-
 
 304 GREY GRANITE. [lET. 
 
 mation on some points that ought not to be passed 
 in silence. Will you, therefore, admit a letter which 
 must, I fear, be little better than a string of uncon- 
 nected paragraphs : for in what other way can I give 
 you such notes as the following ? 
 
 I find that the southern hills of that immense 
 waste called Dartmoor are about eleven hundred 
 feet above the level of the sea ; and that luminous 
 mineral evaporations and ignes fatui are commonly 
 seen in the valleys and hollows of the moor in dark 
 nights: 'some of these,' says Polwhele, 'are like 
 balls of Hght rising about live feet from the earth, 
 then falling back and rebounding.' In former times 
 the mines were numerous; at present very few are 
 worked, though it is conjectured that this vast tract 
 is rich in its subterranean product of metals and 
 ores. Tin mines are amongst these, particularly in 
 the parish of Sampford-Spincy ; and some years ago 
 the sexton, whilst digging a grave in the church of 
 Whitchurch, near Tavistock, struck into a lode of 
 tin. I have in these Letters repeatedly mentioned 
 the grey granite which so much abounds on the 
 moor. This consists of white felspar, black mica 
 and quartz. It is remarkable that no sort of granite 
 is more readily rough-hewn, and none with greater 
 difficulty brought to receive a pohsh. Iron is found 
 in it, and a large vein of that metal was discovered 
 in the Sampford-Spiney mine. In the fissures of 
 the granite there are seen, also, two varieties of tin, 
 Stannum crystallis columnaribus nigris, and Stan- 
 num amorphum ruforigricans. Manganese is found 
 in abundance near Moreton-Hampstead.* 
 
 * Pohvhele's Devon, passim.
 
 XVIII.] SLATE. 305 
 
 Our Devonshire marbles, of M'hicli the most 
 beautiful chimney-pieces are wrought, are too cele- 
 brated to need mvich notice in this letter. The 
 Drewsteignton marbles are chiefly black, or of the 
 richest dark blues, and elegantly veined ; they are 
 capable of receiving the highest polish, and are 
 sometimes found spotted with shells or other fossil 
 remains, so hardened as to form a part of the 
 marble. Our slate, too, is very celebrated : it is often 
 of so deep a grey, as to approach almost to black. 
 Chimney-pieces, highly polished, are made of it. 
 The Rev. Mr. Evans, of Park Wood, has in his 
 house one of this description, so exceedingly beauti- 
 ful, that, on first seeing it, I took it for black marble. 
 Some of the finest quarries are in our neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 This slate is very valuable, and with us it is 
 used not merely for a^general covering against the 
 weather, but for various other purposes. We have 
 a hearth in our kitchen of one entire slab, that 
 measures eight feet in length by four in breadth. 
 In Devon it is often used for tombstones. When 
 we visited the cluu'ch of Launceston in Cornwall, 
 about two years ago, we saw lying against the wall 
 of the churchyard part of a memorial of this de- 
 scription, which ought to have been carefully pre- 
 served in the church itself, as one of the most 
 curious and beautiful specimens of carving in slate 
 perhaps in the whole kingdom. The arms and sup- 
 porters of the deceased, the crest with many flourish- 
 ing decorations, and the whole style of ornament, 
 declared it to be a work of the time of Henry VIII. 
 when simplicity Avas getting out of fashion. This 
 broken slab of monumental slate, for the sharpness
 
 306 * RED EARTH. [lET. 
 
 and perfection of its execution, and the delicacy of 
 its finish, Avas equal to any sculpture I have ever seen 
 in marble ; and Avhen we consider the brittle nature 
 of the material in which it is wrought, there cannot 
 be a doubt that, as a work of art, it is one of sreat 
 value and curiosity. From the situation in which it 
 stood when we saw it, I should fear that, in a few 
 years, it Avill be totally destroyed. Slaters with us 
 still retain that antique name by which, if I remem- 
 ber correctly, they are distinguished by Chaucer; 
 for here they are called helUers, and the slate roof 
 of a house is termed the helling. 
 
 But our granite, marbles and slate, are not the 
 only productions of the earth for which we are 
 famous : the earth itself is deserving notice for the 
 vast variety of its tints, and the richness they add to 
 the landscape. I need not tell you, who have been 
 at Exeter, how brilliant is the red earth of that 
 neighbourhood, and that it is ahvays considered the 
 best and most productive*. Eougemont castle in 
 that city derives its name from the colour of the 
 soil on which it stands and the stone of wliich it is 
 built. Mr. Polwhele mentions that crystals are 
 found in it ; and that the earth in which diamonds 
 are discovered at Golconda is of the same nature. 
 
 Crystals, also, are sometimes seen on Dartmoor 
 amongst the granite. In Sampford-Spiney above 
 
 * Even in Otaheite it is so ; for there we learn, by the accounts of 
 recent travellers, that the poor savages have a tradition that the first 
 man was made out of the red earth of a certain mountain. On my 
 mentioning having read this to Mr. Bray, he remarked how much 
 this tradition of a savage nation accorded with the Mosaic account 
 of the creation ; since the word Adam, the name of the first man, in 
 the Hebrew signifies red earth.
 
 .XVII.] . LOADSTONE. 307 
 
 -one thousand were discovered " being all of a short 
 thick column, mth tapering pyramidal ends." These 
 are very rare in England. " They are always met 
 •with in parcels in the same place, generally detached 
 and sintrle, thouo-h sometimes a few of them cohere 
 together ; they are beautifully transparent, and of 
 extreme brightness." Semipellucid columnar quartz 
 crystals are frequently found in the fissm-es of 
 the Dartmoor granite ; and the black garnet is dis- 
 covered at Moreton-Hampstead, like schorl crystals, 
 and the amorphous minutely granulated black schorl. 
 We have, also, on the moor, a compact species of 
 spar that bears a fine polish and is capable of being 
 worked the same as marble. I observed, a few days 
 since, several rocks of this description rising two or 
 three feet above the surface of the ground, near 
 Holwell, on AMiitchurch down. " In Devon sliire,'* 
 says Risdon, ''is found the miraculous loadstone, 
 not discovered in this island till the sixteenth cen- 
 tury : the loadstone, though of an inferior kind, has 
 been found on Dartmoor." According to Prideaux, 
 some of the hills, or mountainous tracts of the 
 moor, attain a height of nearly two thousand feet; 
 the valleys, though they run in various directions, 
 nevertheless have a tendency to the north and south. 
 The hills are most elevated towards the borders, 
 where the o:ranite seems of a harder and closer tex- 
 tui'e. The colour here and there varies, though its 
 general appearance is grey, yet is it found " from 
 almost black with schorl, to pure shining white, and 
 some occm's of a rich red, superior in beauty to any 
 Egyptian granite, particularly where it contains 
 tourmahne." It is metalliferous, tin being common ; 
 copper is sometimes found. The granite, though
 
 308 . MARKS OF THE DELUGE. [lET. 
 
 rich in schorl, is poor in mica, consequently contain- 
 ing less magnesia, and the more subject to the 
 operations of the weather from that cause. The line 
 of granite from the town of Tavistock to Heytor 
 may be pretty accurately traced by the copse, 
 which clothing the declivities of the slate-rocks 
 that abut against it, disappears suddenly on the 
 gritty soil. Cocks-tor is a mountain of trap, which 
 runs in a northerly direction to Whiter-tor and 
 Brazen-tor, " it is almost pure horn blende, in dif- 
 ferent degrees of compactness, and consequently of 
 specific gravity." At Cocks-tor and Whiter-tor it is 
 seen in contact with clay slate, at Brazen-tor with 
 granite. This slate is likewise observed on the 
 western sides of the first-named tor, where it comes 
 in contact Avith the trap. This preserves its lami- 
 nar structure ; it has assumed the aspect of flint, and 
 gives fire on receiving a blow from the hammer. In 
 some places it is become riband jasper, but finer as 
 a mineral*. 
 
 Mr. Bray noticed in a former paper, that Brent- 
 tor was considered by geologists to be a volcanic 
 production ; and as there is evidence of the action of 
 fire on the moor, so likewise is there of water. Allu- 
 vial tracts are here and there displayed ; and though 
 the nature of the primary granite rocks cannot be 
 doubted, yet it is the opinion of Polwhele that vast 
 fragments of stone so widely scattered every where 
 around, or piled in the rudest heaps, clearly indicate 
 some terrible wreck of a former world. The emi- 
 nence, for instance, which arises above the logan 
 stone at Drcwsteignton, displays the boldest and 
 the most marked vestiges of the great flood. It is 
 
 * Prideaux's Geological Survey, passim.
 
 XVIII.] NATURAL CONVULSION. 309 
 
 the same in other parts, particularly near Heytor 
 rock — there "the hills are broken up or strangely 
 rounded. The rocks along the sides of the hills are 
 smoothed by the waters, or shattered by the force of 
 the torrent : whilst an infinite number of pebbles are 
 dashed around these abrupt masses. The valleys 
 have on one spot an even surface, but gravelly and 
 sandy. On another, they are ploughed up into the 
 wildest irregularities : all around, indeed, the very 
 entrails of the earth are laid open. These Avere not 
 common floods ; they were such as might divulse 
 the whole strata of the hills, wash away the sub- 
 stances that had been accumulating for ages, and 
 bring others instantaneously into their place. *" An 
 intelligent correspondent of the same author ob- 
 serves — "that the convulsion which produced the 
 mountain tracts of Blackdown and Haldon, raisins: 
 themselves, perhaps, partly, if not wholly, from the 
 sea, was not enough to throw off all their superficial 
 strata from the clay-stones and shells that remain 
 on them; they may, therefore, be called alluvial 
 mountain tracts. Bvit the convulsion being stronger 
 that formed the heights of Dartmoor, all superficial 
 strata were thrown off, and the granite, which is 
 considered as a primaeval stratum, appeared. This 
 stratum has nothing upon it but a thin vegetable 
 mould that it has since collected. This, therefore, 
 in the language of a geologist, may be called a pri- 
 mseval mountain tract." 
 
 That Dartmoor has experienced, at different 
 periods, many convulsions of nature cannot be 
 doubted by those who have examined with attention 
 the features of that most interestins; waste. The 
 
 * Polwhelc's Devon.
 
 310 EARTHQUAKE. [lET. 
 
 last convulsion of any extraordinary cliaracter oc- 
 curred in the year 1752, when, on the 23d day of 
 February, a smart shock of an earthqualvC was felt 
 at many places on the moor, and in its immediate 
 neighbourhood — Manaton, Moreton-Hampstead and 
 Widdecombe. In the last-named village some 
 houses were injured, and one of the pinnacles of the 
 tower of the church was thrown down. Widde- 
 combe, indeed, seemed destined to suffer by the 
 convulsion of the elements. The most fearful of 
 these sufferings was alluded to in an extract from 
 Mr. Bray's old Journal, given in a former letter. 
 It deserves, however, a more particular notice ; and 
 the following accovmt, founded on the authority of 
 Prince, \n\\, I trust, be not altogether devoid of 
 interest, though it relates to a most melancholy 
 subject. 
 
 On Sunday the 21st of October, 1638, whilst 
 the Rev. George Lyde was performing the evening 
 service in his church of Widdecombe, he was sud- 
 denly surprised by such darkness that he could with 
 difficulty proceed in his duty. This was followed by 
 intermitted peals of thunder that sounded afar off 
 like the discharge of artillery. The darkness so 
 increased, as the tempest drew nearer, that the con- 
 gregation could scarcely see each other; and whilst 
 the hurricane raged without in fearful Adolence, the 
 choristers sang one of the psalms in praise of Him 
 "who maketh the clouds his chariot, who walketh 
 upon the wings of the wind, who hath His way in 
 the whu-lwind, and in the storm." At length the 
 whole face of the heavens became covered bv dense 
 and black clouds, and all was dark as midnight.; 
 In a moment this was fearfuU}^ dispersed, and the
 
 XVIII.] EARTHQUAKE. 311 
 
 church appeared to be suddenly iUumined by flames 
 of forked fire. According to Prince, these terrific 
 flames were accompanied mth smoke, and " a loath- 
 some smell like brimstone." A ball of fire also 
 burst tlu-ough one of the windows, and passed down 
 the nave of the church, spreading consternation in 
 its passage. 
 
 Many of the congregation thought it the final 
 judgment of the world : some fell on their faces, and 
 lay extended hke dead men upon the ground ; others 
 beat their breasts, or cried aloud mth terror ; many 
 wept and prayed. The reverend Pastor continued in 
 his pulpit, amazed by this event, yet by Di\-ine Pro- 
 vidence unharmed liimself, though a sad spectator of 
 the dreadHil sufferings around liim. His Avife was 
 scorched by the lightning, but her child, seated by 
 her in the same pew, received no injury. A woman, 
 who attempted to rush out, was so miserably burnt, 
 that she expired that night. Many other persons, 
 hkcAAdse, in a few days after, died from the same 
 cause. One unhappy man had his skuU so horribly 
 fractured, that the brains were found cast iipon the 
 pavement in an entire state. " But the hair of his 
 head," says the chronicler of this event, " stuck fast 
 to the pillar near Mm, where it remained a Avoful 
 spectacle a long while after." Several seats were 
 turned upside dovA^i, yet those who were on them 
 received no injury. One man, on rushing out at the 
 chancel, saw liis dog, that ran before him, whirled 
 towards the door, where the animal fell dovra dead. 
 On seeing this, the master stepped back, and his hfe 
 was preserved. A beam ft-om the roof fell between 
 the pastor and his clerk; neither was injured. So 
 violently was the tower of the church shaken, that
 
 312 EARTHQUAKE. [lET. 
 
 vast stones were tost from it, as if from the destroy- 
 ing hands of "an hundred men." A pinnacle of the 
 tower, in its fall, broke through the roof, wounded 
 many, and killed a woman. The pillar against 
 which the pulpit stood became black and sulphurous ; 
 yet, though thus surrounded by danger on every 
 side, the undaunted minister of God never forsook 
 his station ; and, in reply to a proposal made by some 
 one present, that all should venture from the church, 
 he exclaimed, "Let us make an end of prayer, since 
 it is better to die here than in another place !" 
 
 The affrighted congregation, however, seeing the 
 building so fearfully shaken and tottering above their 
 heads, dared not remain ; and Mr. Lyde was left to 
 finish the prayer, Avith the dead and the maimed around 
 him ; four persons being killed, and sixty-two griev- 
 ously burnt by the lightning, or wounded by the 
 fallino: of the stones. Carrinoj'ton thus alludes to 
 this awful visitation in his poem of "Dartmoor:" — * 
 
 * The wildest tales respecting this storm, so severely felt in WiJ- 
 decombe church, are still the theme of tradition with the peasantry of 
 Dartmoor. One story is, that the devil, dressed in black, and mounted 
 on a black horse, inquired his way to the church, of a woman who 
 kept a little public-house on the moor. He offered her monej' to 
 become his guide ; but she distrusted him, on remarking that the 
 liquor went hissing down his throat, and finally had her suspicions 
 confirmed by discovering he had a cloven foot, which he could not 
 conceal even by his l)Oot. Another version of the story says, that the 
 compact being out which the devil had made with some wicked youth, 
 he had the power to seize him, even in the church, if he there found 
 him sleeping. On his way through the churchyard, the Jlvil one 
 overturned some boys he found playing at marbles upon the graves; 
 and finding his victim sleeping in the pew as he expected, he caught 
 him up by the hair, flew with him through one of the windows, and 
 knocked down the pinnacle, that did so much mischief in his flight. 
 There arc many other adventures told concerning the devil in this 
 exploit ; but these are the principal. Bishop Hall, in his admirable
 
 XVIII.] EXTRACT FROM CARRINGTON. 313 
 
 " Far o'er hill and dale 
 Their summons glad the Sabbath-bells had flung ;— 
 From hill and dale obedient they had sped 
 Who heard the holy welcoming ; and now 
 They stood above the venerable dead 
 Of centuries, and bow'd where they had bow'd 
 Who slept below. The simple touching tones 
 Of England's psalmody upswell'd, and all, 
 W^ith lip and heart united, loudly sang 
 The praises of the Highest. But anon, 
 Harsh mingling with that minstrelsy, was heard 
 The fitful blast ; — the pictured windows shook, — 
 Around the aged tower the rising gale 
 Shrill whistled ; and the ancient massive doors 
 Swung on their jarring hinges. Then — at once — 
 Fell an unnatural calm, and with it came 
 A fearful gloom, deep'ning and deep'ning, till 
 'Twas dark as night's meridian ; for the cloud, 
 Descending, had within its bosom wrapt 
 The fated dome. At first a herald flash 
 Just chased the darkness, and the thunder spoke, 
 Breaking the strange tranquillity. But soon 
 Pale horror reign'd, — the mighty tempest burst 
 In wrath appalling ; — forth the lightning sprang, 
 And death came with it, and the living writhed 
 In that dread flame-sheet. 
 
 " Clasp'd by liquid fire — 
 Bereft of Hope, they madly said the hour 
 Of final doom was nigh, and soul and sense "^ 
 
 Wild reel'd ; and, shrieking, on the sculptured floor 
 Some helpless sank; and others watch'd each flash 
 With haggard look and frenzied e3'e, and cower'd 
 At every thunder-stroke. Again a power 
 Unseen dealt death around ! In speechless awe 
 The boldest stood ; and when the sunny ray 
 
 sermon "Of the Invisible World," ascribes many storms to the 
 agency of wicked spirits ; and mentions that of Widdecombe as an 
 instance. 
 
 I have seen it mentioned in the Quarterly Review, that the Ettrick 
 Shepherd, in one of his tales, makes the devil be discovered by the 
 wine hissing down his throat whilst drinking. This is a very remark- 
 able coincidence with our Dartmoor tradition ; which is not, I will 
 venture to say, known beyond this neighbourhoodi 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 814 OF STORMS AT DARTMOOR. [LETi 
 
 Glancing again on river, field, and w'ood, 
 . Had chased the tempest, and they drank once more 
 The balmy air, and saw the bow of God, 
 His token to the nations, throwing wide 
 Its arch of mercy o'er the freshen'd earth, 
 How welcome was that light — that breeze — that bow ! 
 And oh how deep the feeling that awoke 
 To Heaven the hymn of thankfulness and joy !" 
 
 Thougli storms attended with thunder and Kght- 
 ning are by no means common on the moor, yet, 
 when they do occur, they are of a nature so ter- 
 rific^ that every one must acknowledge the mercy 
 of Divine Providence in not suffering them to be 
 more frequent. Were I to repeat to you the notices 
 of such storms given by various Avriters, no spot of 
 earth, of like extent, in this kingdom, could, perhaps 
 claim so fearful a record as the forest of Dartmoor. 
 The toAvers of the churches in this neighbourhood 
 are by no means lofty, and spires are unknown. Pos- 
 sibly this circumstance may be the result of design; 
 the wisdom of our ancestors might have suggested 
 the necessity of erecting low towers in a region of 
 high lands and mountainous tors, where any very 
 elevated buildings perched upon them would have 
 become as points of attraction to the clouds sur- 
 charged with the electric fluid. This, however, is a 
 subject I leave to be discussed by those who are 
 much better acquainted with it than myself 
 
 It is not my intention in these letters to say any 
 thing concerning the botany of the moor. I am too 
 ignorant of the subject to write about it, and even if I 
 possessed the knowledge that is requisite for such a 
 task, it would be unnecessary ; since Mr. Polwhelc, 
 in his ' Devon,' has given a most copious account of 
 all its plants, both common and rare. Another con-
 
 XVIII.] ADVANTAGES OF DRAWING. 315 
 
 sideratioii, also, makes me less anxious on this point. 
 It is that you have truly observed in your Colloquies, 
 that botanical books are only of interest to botanists. 
 You are not, I believe, particularly partial to that 
 science; and few readers are so. Should these let- 
 ters, therefore, ever go farther than Keswick — should 
 they go into the hands of any one who might be 
 curious on such a point, I have stated Avhere that 
 curiosity may be most amply satisfied. The few 
 remarks I have to offer respecting the wild products 
 of the soil are such as would strike any one who, in 
 early life, hke myself, has been fond of the pencil ; 
 and who consequently acquires a feeling for, or, as 
 artists term it, an eye for the picturesque ; an eye 
 Avhich becomes the inlet to one of the most innocent, 
 delightful, and lasting pleasures of human life ; a 
 pleasure (and I speak it fi'om experience) that ren- 
 ders the spirits, in hours of health and peace, as light 
 as the air we breathe ; that can cheer the mind, and 
 revive the body after sickness ; that has a power even 
 to soothe grief, to tranquillize the vexations of worldly 
 cares ; and, above all, that fills the whole heart with 
 the best and the most grateful feelings towards that 
 Divine Providence, who has every where spread 
 around us such a world of beauty and Aariety, for the 
 solace, the delight, and the service of his creatures. 
 
 It is on this account, therefore, that even the 
 slightest knowledge of drawing becomes so valuable ; 
 since it teaches the young student to see a thousand 
 minute beauties of light, shadow, form, and colour 
 that would escape an unciiltivated observer. And 
 tliis is the reason why I would have all young persons 
 taught to draw, the same as they arc taught to write ; 
 since, though it requires talent to make a good 
 
 p2
 
 316 THE WILD FURZE. [lET. 
 
 artist, and genivis to form a great one, yet I am per- 
 suaded that there are few, if any, so dull, but that 
 they may be taught to imitate the forms they see 
 before their eyes, even the same as they learn to 
 write the alphabet ; and when I add that on ven- 
 turing to make this observation to Mr. Stothard, 
 sen., the historical painter, he concurred in such 
 opinion, it will be found not unsupported by a very 
 high authority. 
 
 During the Spring in our neighbourhood, and, I 
 believe, in most parts of Devon, nothing can exceed 
 the gorgeous display made by the golden blossom of 
 our furze. It is said that when Linnaeus was in 
 England he was more struck with the magnificent 
 appearance of this wild furze than with any other of 
 our native plants. It grows most abundantly on 
 tracts of waste land, by the side of roads, and on 
 certain portions of Dartmoor. Near Moreton-Hamp- 
 stead it is seen so thick and splendid, that it might 
 be compared to an embroidery of gold on velvet of 
 the richest green. I have seen this f\u-ze, when 
 skilfully managed by a tasteful artist, introduced 
 with good effect in foregrounds ; where, like the rich 
 opposition of colour in the pictures of Titian, it con- 
 trasts finely with the deep and ultra-marine tints of 
 the sky and the distant tors. Our May blossoms, 
 too, growing on the thorns in the hedges, are ex- 
 ceedingly luxuriant, and beautifully clustered. And 
 scarcely does the yellow blossom of the furze dis- 
 appear, when there comes forth in such abundance 
 as I have never seen in any other county, that most 
 elegant of all wild flowers, and most delicately painted 
 in its bell, the Digitalis, or Foxglove; or, as the 
 peasantry here call it, the Flop-a-dock. The height
 
 XVIII.] THE FOXGLOVE AND WHORTLEBERRY. 317 
 
 to which these plants grow m Devon is extraor- 
 dinary. I have seen many hills so covered with 
 them, that thus viewed in combination they have 
 produced an effect truly magnificent; especially 
 where some of our noble ferns interposed to add 
 that variety of form and colour so essential to the 
 picturesque. The wliite foxglove is an exceedingly 
 rare plant even here, where I have always under- 
 stood botanists find so choice a field for their pur- 
 suits : it is found on Dartmoor. In Somerset and 
 Devon, the common people use a decoction of it as a 
 most powerfvd emetic ; too powerful, I should think, 
 to be taken with safety. 
 
 Whortleberries are both fine and plentiful on 
 some parts of the moor. They are delicious (some- 
 what resembling in flavour the American cranberry) 
 when made into tarts and eaten with that luxury 
 of all luxuries, the clouted, or, as we call it, scalded 
 cream of our delightful county. The heath-polt 
 principally feeds on the whortleberry that grows 
 wild on the moors. Round the tors of the forest 
 the finest white clover springs up spontaneously; 
 and no doubt this in a great degree renders the 
 moor so excellent in the pasture it affords the sheep. 
 
 Though I have confessed my entire ignorance 
 of botanical subjects, which I regret, I can tell, never- 
 theless, many of our wdld flowers by the names that 
 are prevalent among the peasantry. Some of these 
 it may be as well to mention, since they are of an- 
 tique date. And who would do other than look with 
 an eye of interest on the pretty flowers that were 
 chosen by Ophelia to form her ' fantastic garlands,' 
 as she strayed by the 'glassy strcanV under the 
 willow that grew ' ascaunt the brook T
 
 318 WILD FLOWERS. [lET. 
 
 "There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 
 Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; 
 When down her weedy trophies, and herself, 
 Fell in the weeping brook." 
 
 We have here ' crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and 
 long'-pnrples,' and many other plants whose names 
 are as ancient, as poetical, or as fantastic ; for here, 
 too, the ' long-purples' are called ' dead-men's fin- 
 gers.' And poor Ophelia herself might have sung 
 snatches of old tunes, as she formed garlands from 
 flowers so wildly called as ours. We have the maiden- 
 hair, a pretty pendent plant for her ' coronet j' and 
 the lost-love that would have reminded her of Hamlet ; 
 and the shepherd's calendar, and the one o'clock, the 
 very dial of poetry ; and the cuckoo-flower, that opens 
 its little pink buds at the time the bird from which 
 it borrows its name does his note. And we have, 
 too, the snap-drarjon, as varied and as beautiful as 
 any garden flower. And the thor-mantle, excellent 
 as a medicine in fevers; and the cafs-eyes, that are 
 as blue as ether, A\ith a little white pupil in the 
 centre; and bri(jJif-eyc, with its glossy leaves; and 
 mother of millions with its numerous small drooping 
 flowers; and honesty, whose bells hang like open 
 purses by the side of its stem. Milk-maidens are 
 little white flowers that grow in the meadows, or on 
 the banks of running streams. And Love supplies 
 many with his name ; for we have a plant called 
 seven years'' love, and love entangled, a wild pictur- 
 escjue flower that grows on the tops of old houses ; 
 and love in a puzzle, a delicate plant with leaves re- 
 sembling in colour the wings of an earl}' butterfly. 
 We have also the blue hare-hell. The harmless nettle 
 is here called archangels. And indeed we have a vast
 
 XVIII.] NAMES OF BIRDS- 319 
 
 variety of others that speak ha their very names the 
 huaginativc and poetic character of our forefathers in 
 this lovely county. 
 
 As we have provincial names for the plants, so 
 have we likewise for the birds. A grave naturalist 
 would smile did he hear some of these. That beau- 
 tiftilly-feathered bird, the yellow hammer, which I 
 can never meet without delight, as he spreads his 
 wings and mounts and flutters aloft, is here known 
 by no other name than the one M'hich so truly ex- 
 presses his character — the gladdij ; and it does, 
 indeed, glad one's very eyes to see him. And then 
 when T open the postern gate in the old Abbey 
 walls at the end of the garden, and. look out upon 
 the foaming Tavy and its rocks, there I meet a pretty 
 little fellow skimming over them, or dropping his 
 wings and resting a moment, and constantly wag- 
 ging his fan-tail of black and grey feathers over the 
 old stones ; an action which has procured for him the 
 name of the dish-ivasher. And we have, too, the 
 mazed finch, a truly Devonian appellative, given to 
 one species of this tribe in consccjuence of its ^^'ild 
 and incessant motion. We have, also, as the little 
 boys here say, 
 
 " The robin red-breast and the wren, 
 God Almighty's cock and hen." 
 
 And then we have birds called by as compound 
 epithets as if the good folks who gave them had 
 studied Homer. For we have the ox-eyed tit-mouse, 
 a little bit of a bird not biofirer than a wren, with a 
 breast as white as snow. We have, likewise, the 
 heck-malL a busy bird, and fond of making himself 
 comfortable : a hole in an old apple tree, or a snug- 
 cell in the Abbey wall that some loosened stone has
 
 320 KAMES OF BIRDS. [lET. 
 
 left for him, arc to him as a palace ; and there he 
 lives as happy as a more ambitious bird amongst the 
 loftiest rocks, even as 
 
 " The lordly eagle sitting in his chair." 
 
 The hoop is a bird of the same family, who makes 
 more noise than he does work ; and being somewhat 
 choice in his dwelling, he selects an old hole that is 
 well sheltered with ivy. The furze chatterer, it is 
 probable, admires our golden bushes, from which he 
 takes his name, as much as did Linnajus himself, 
 since he regularly frequents them ; and there, if he 
 is not to be seen, he is constantly to be heard ; 
 and, like most gi-eat talkers, repeats the same note 
 over and over again. We also have a bird called 
 black-headed Bob, a merry fellow ; and well does he 
 deserve his name ; for whilst his bill is not idle in 
 picking up what he can, his head bobs about from 
 side to side, with a motion as perpetual as that of a 
 Chinese jos. Part of his family arc aristocratic, 
 for the black-winged duke is certainly of his kindred; 
 but whereas Bob carries all his sable colours, like a 
 black-plumed warrior, upon his head, the duke dis- 
 plays his sables more like a mantle, about his back 
 and wings. The stone-knocker is the very mason of 
 his tribe : he is fond of rivers and mountain streams, 
 and will peck, peck the very granite with his bill, till 
 he finds a hole to his taste, and then he makes him- 
 self happy and ])rings home his love. 
 
 Knowing little about entomology, I have had re- 
 course to Mr. Polwhelc, to sec what help he could 
 give me ; and as common insects arc not grand 
 enough to be named after such a catalogue as 13ob 
 and his kindred have aftbrdcd in the feathered tribe.
 
 XVllI.] OF INSECTS AND FISHES. 321 
 
 I shall only say that Mr. Polwhele declares of insects, 
 lie is acquainted with none here which are not com- 
 mon to other counties, unless it be the stag beetle, 
 and the mole cricket. He gives a very full and 
 curious account of both these insects. And here I 
 may observe that the cricket's cry, which, I believe, 
 in all other counties is considered a cheerful and a 
 welcome note, the harbinger of joy, is deemed by 
 our peasantry ominous of sorrow and evil. The 
 Phalcena Pavonia, or emperor moth, has been seen 
 sporting and showing his magnificent wings on the 
 boundary walls of the Abbey in our garden*. 
 
 I must not venture upon any account of the 
 finny tribes; for so little did I know about them, 
 that till I read 'Walton's Angler' (which almost 
 made me long to go a fishing myself in our streams) 
 I scarcely knew what kind of fish inhabit rivers only, 
 and not the seas. And having no taste for fish, it is 
 merely by the report of others that I can assure you 
 our trout is as fine as trout can be ; and that the 
 rivers on the moor abound with them in such plenty, 
 that good old Izaak, or your friend Sir Humphry 
 Davy, would have delighted to throw a fly along its 
 banks. We have, too, salmon in abundance ; and 
 we have, likewise, the old story, common to all 
 salmon countries, namely, that the ''prentices' in 
 former times used to make it a part of the bargain 
 in their indentures not to be obliged to dine off 
 salmon more than five times a week. 
 
 Our reptiles, saving one, are known by then* ge- 
 neral names, none having provincial ones, except- 
 
 * A beetle of the most rare kind has been lately discovered in the 
 woods of Walreddon, about two miles from Tavistock. It is said to 
 l)e the only specimen of this peculiar sort that has ever been found in 
 England. I made a note of its name, &c., but have mislaid it. 
 
 p3
 
 322 OF REPTILES, ETC. [lET. 
 
 ing the snake, and he is called the long cripple^; 
 but why or wherefore is more than I know. Toads 
 we have in abundance ; they principally frequent 
 the pools in this county. I remember a fine fat one, 
 that was long an inhabitant of a hole under the 
 ancient still-house of the Abbey in our garden ; and 
 so fearless was he, that in my favourite walk to this 
 spot, he would pop out of his hole, squat himself 
 down in the middle of the path, and look at me as if 
 he were a sentinel keeping watch before the old 
 tower. He had very large bright eyes ; and was, I 
 can vouch from long acquaintance, as beautiful and 
 as civil as a toad could be. Mr. Bray once observed 
 one of these reptiles under a hedge with a monstrous 
 snake coiled round him, but if to exert his powers of 
 fascination upon the poor toad, or to do battle with 
 him, he covdd not determine. Mr. Polwhele gives 
 a curious account of a toad that inhabited a hole 
 before the hall door of a Mr. Arscott of Tedcott, in 
 this county, which, during the space of thirty years, 
 was a familiar friend with that gentleman, and would 
 feed from his hand. 
 
 We have several species of Lizards. The eft 
 and the long cripple are also common here; and as 
 to vipers, only take a j-amble on Dartmoor on a very 
 hot day, and you will see more of such reptiles than, 
 I will venture to say, you have ever seen before, or 
 would wish to see again. I never venture there 
 without putting on a good pair of stout boots ; and I 
 would advise all my female friends, who may be enthu- 
 siastic in search of the pictvucsque, to follow my 
 cxampk^ ; since the finest scenery of the moor is to 
 be found amidst the wild and hidden valleys, and the 
 broken rocks, where vipers most abound. To go 
 
 * Perhaps from long creeper.
 
 XVIII.] A CURIOUS BAT. 323 
 
 among them as guarded as possible against being 
 bitten A\ill be fovmd a necessary precaution*. 
 
 I now, I believe, have named our principal rep- 
 tiles. Under what class the bat is to be ranked 
 I do not know ; for though it has wings it is not a 
 bird; and as it does not crawl it can hardly be 
 called reptile. But I mention it here because the 
 remains of the Abbey, beaiitifuUy hung with ivy, 
 abound vnih the finest bats I have ever seen. They 
 sometimes come into our house; and one, with a 
 noble pair of horns, (that reminded me of the horn- 
 head dress worn by the ladies in the time of 
 Henry IV., when they were obliged to heighten the 
 doors at court to give them free passage,) we caught 
 at night ; and as I wished more particularly to ex- 
 amine it by daylight, I put my prisoner into the 
 warming pan, to secure him for that purpose. Next 
 morning, when I gently raised the lid, no bat was to 
 be found ; and as nobody knew any thing about the 
 matter, it was settled by universal consent in our 
 kitchen, that either a, piscjy had 'let he out,' or that 
 with his horns he had pushed up the lid and effected 
 his own escape, or that, worst of all, a certain dark 
 personage, whose nightly operations are still devoutly 
 believed in by many of the Devonians, must have 
 had some hand in the business. 
 
 And, now, having written you a very long letter, 
 and much about trifles, allow me to conclude, with 
 every respectful feeling, 
 
 My dear Sir, most truly and faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray. 
 
 * The labourers on the moor, particularly the peat-cutters, may be 
 said to swathe their legs with ropes of straw, to guard against the 
 vipers.
 
 324 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Vestiges of ancient customs still found on the Moor — 
 Sacred solemnities of the Druids to Bel, or the Sun— Bel Tor the 
 scene of ancient rites — May-fires in Cornwall and Devon — Druid- 
 ical or British custom respecting Cattle, formerly observed on the 
 Moor — Vestige of the sacrificial rite to the God Bel — Cuckoo's 
 note, an omen — Lines on the Cuckoo — May-day in the West of 
 England — The Hobby-horse; its high antiquity — Conjecture re- 
 specting its being a vestige of the Sacied Horse, &c. — Horses, as 
 sacred offerings, so considered bj^ many nations of antiquity — a vestige 
 of such offerings found in chivalrous times — Examples given— The 
 Druidical Festivals of the West— That of Godo— The British Ceres 
 — Harvest — The curious ceremony still observed by the Reapers, 
 near Dartmoor, at the end of the Harvest, described asv/itnessed by 
 the Writer — Conjectured to be the vestige of a British custom — 
 Plants held sacred— Herbs — Charms— Old Women generally per- 
 form the rite — Two Charms in barbarous rhymes given — The Apple 
 tree — Old custom of saluting it— The last'of October, the great day 
 with the British Priesthood — To beg fire, in former times, at the doors 
 of the rich, on that day, once practised by the Peasantry of the 
 West — Now extinct — Old Midsummer Day — Cattle pounded — De- 
 cay of ancient customs on the Moor — An interesting Letter from 
 the Reverend Thomas Johnes on the Animals of the West, given at 
 large. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, June 9ih, 1832. 
 
 My DEAR Sir, 
 
 I purpose giving you, in tliis letter, some slight 
 account of tlic few vestiges of those ancient cus- 
 toms which still linger in their decay, not only on 
 Dartmoor, but throughout this neighbourhood. My
 
 LET. XIX.] ANCIENT RITES. 325 
 
 reason for introducing them here, is, that I consider 
 they derive their origin from British times. 
 
 Many of the sacred solemnities of the Druids were 
 observed on particular days. Amongst these was the 
 festival of the god Belus, or Bel, on the first of May. 
 I have before noticed that on the Moor we have 
 Bel-tor, commonly pronounced by the peasantry 
 Belle-tor ; thus adding the vowel to the termination 
 of the word, as they do in the name of the forest 
 itself, which they often call Dartemoor : it is, per- 
 haps, the ancient pronunciation, for we find Chaucer 
 accents the e ; Avhen speaking of a native of a Devon- 
 sliire tovra, he says 
 
 " For that I wot he was of Dartemouth." 
 
 I have no doubt that on May-day, sacred to Bel, or 
 the Sun, his tor on Dartmoor exhibited all the rites 
 and ceremonies due to the worship of that god. 
 There on its summit, in all probability, the cairn 
 fires were kindled, as victims were immolated, and 
 the earliest fruits and blossoms of the earth received 
 the benediction of the priest. It is not improbable, 
 that the spring season of the year was chosen for the 
 high festival of the Sun, in order to celebrate his re- 
 newed power, since he might then be considered as 
 beginning to dispense his warmer beams to raise the 
 seeds of the ground in promise of the future harvest. 
 Many august ceremonies were likewise observed on 
 May Eve. Toland gives a very curious account of the 
 Beltan fires, that in his time were still kindled on a 
 heap of stones, called a kairn, in many parts of 
 Ireland, whilst the peasantry danced and sang around 
 the flames. 
 
 In the counties of Cornwall and Devon, "May
 
 326 MAY-FIRES, ETC. {lET. 
 
 fires " were long numbered amongst the sports of 
 May-day, though, I believe, in our county they are 
 now fallen into total oblivion. So likewise is that 
 very ancient custom with the peasantry of the Moor^ 
 to collect together a quantity of straw, to pile it up 
 on one of the heaps of stone, and then setting fire to 
 it, force their cows to pass over the expiring em- 
 bers in order to make them fruitful in milk, and to 
 preserve them from disease during the rest of the 
 year. As nothing has been heard of this custom of 
 late years, I conclude it is extinct : but can there be 
 a doubt it was a vestige of the sacrificial rites to the 
 god Bel !* And this opinion is confirmed by the cir- 
 cumstance of the Druids sacrificing on May Eve a 
 spotted cow. " It was the season in which British 
 mythology commemorated the egress from the ark ; 
 the place wliere this cow was sacrificed afforded rest 
 to the deified patriarch, who is here styled Ysadawn, 
 the consumer*." 
 
 The cuckoo's note was hailed by the British 
 priesthood as the harbinger of the sacrifices of ^lay 
 Eve. With the Devonians the cuckoo is still an 
 om.inous bird ; since to hear him for the first time on 
 the left hand — as I did this year — is considered a 
 marvellous sign of ill luck. Some unlettered muse 
 of our county has thus, truly enough, expressed his 
 peculiarities in rhpne. 
 
 In the month of April, 
 He opens his bill; 
 In the month of JMay, 
 He singeth all Jay ; 
 In the month of June, 
 He alters his tune ; 
 In the month of July, 
 Away he doth fly. 
 
 * Davies's British Mythology,
 
 XIX.] may-day: 327 
 
 !May-dav is still celebrated in the West of Eng- 
 land, though not so gaily as it used to be some yeais 
 ago, when I have heard my husband sa}^ the milk- 
 maids of this place would borrow plate of the gen- 
 tly to hang upon their milk-pails, intermixed with 
 bunches of riband and crowns of flowers. It is, I 
 believe, universally allowed that no custom has a 
 higher claim to heathen antiquity, than the erection 
 of a May -pole, garlanded with flowers, as the signal- 
 post of mirth and rejoicing for the day. These May- 
 poles have, I believe, of late years, experienced some 
 change : in former times they were often stationar)^ ; 
 now, we generally see only the verdant pyramid 
 crowned Anth flowers. This pp'amid joins the pro- 
 cession, and sometimes even the dance ; it receives 
 its motion from having concealed within it a good 
 stout fellow; strong and tall enough to perform 
 the part for the day. Jack in the Bush is liis name ; 
 and he has existed (so am I fold) as long as the 
 May-pole itself. 
 
 Robin Hood, St. George and the Dragon, ]\Iaid 
 Marian, the Hobby-horse and the Ladle, have long 
 been forgotten with us, though once so famous in the 
 West. Yet I cannot pass the mention of the Hobby, 
 without venturing a conjecture of my own respecting 
 his origin, which differs from the generally received 
 opinion. The antique Hobby (hke the present May- 
 pole) was formed by a man being dressed up, so as 
 to disguise his humanity, vdih a pasteboard head, 
 resembling that of a horse, decorated with a real 
 mane, and the performer could also boast a real tail. 
 He was, in fact, made to look as much like a four- 
 footed animal, as a biped could possibly be made to 
 do. Ribands, gilt paper, and gaudy flowers were
 
 328 
 
 THE HOBBY. [lET. 
 
 disposed about him by way of decoration, and the 
 ladle stuck in the mouth of the horse, received the 
 donation pennies of the boys and girls, to be spent 
 in keepmg up the sports. Tliis Hobby was very gay 
 and gorgeous, and hence have we, in all probability, 
 the common saying of '' as fine as the horse," to ex- 
 press extravagant decoration in the dress of an in- 
 dividual. This is the grotesque figure to M-hich 
 Hamlet alludes when he exclaims " Heigho ! the 
 Hobby-horse is forgot," and well might he do so, for 
 it was falling into neglect even in the days of Eliza- 
 beth, though it sur^-ived in the West longer than in 
 any other part of the kingdom. 
 
 Now this May-day Hobby, with all submission to 
 the learned, I cannot help thinking, has a claim to 
 much higher antiquity in its origin than they are 
 pleased to assign to it ; and that it is nothing less 
 than a vestige, or figure rather, of the sacred horse, 
 dedicated to Bel, the god of the Sun, on the first of 
 May, by the British Druids. The custom, no doubt, 
 came from the East, as did most customs of the 
 Celtic nations. Dedicating horses to the Sun is 
 spoken of even in the Bible ; where we are told that 
 the good King Josiah, who destroyed the groves of 
 the idolatrous priests, took away the horses they had 
 dedicated to the Sioi. Tacitus, also, in describing the 
 manners of the ancient Germans, mentions the neigh- 
 ing of the sacred horses, as being consulted for the 
 purposes of divination by priests and kings. The 
 Saxons, before their conversion to Christianity^ de- 
 voted horses to Odin, as a more noble offering than 
 that of pigs, sacrificed to Frea his wife. And, how- 
 ever impatient tlie Roman Catholics may be at the 
 mention of it, there is nothing more certain than tliat
 
 XIX.] SACRED OFFERINGS. 329 
 
 many of the customs and ceremonies of tlieir church 
 were borrowed from the idolatrous rites of the an- 
 cient heathens. That custom, so frequent in tlie 
 ages of chivahy, of offering at the altar the horse of 
 the victor, in all probability derived its origin from 
 pagan antiquity. Many instances of such offerings 
 might be cited ; one or two will here suffice. 
 
 Setting aside the mischievous tendency of the su- 
 perstitions connected with the Church of Rome, its 
 rites and ceremonies were often of an imposing 
 character, though they stirred the imagination more 
 than they affected the heart. There must have 
 been something very noble in such sights as were 
 presented by the offerings in question : when Phi- 
 lippe de Valois, for instance, after a great victory, 
 entered the cathedral of Notre Dame fully armed 
 and mounted on his war-horse, as he moved slowly 
 on, surrounded by the solemn assembly of priests and 
 warriors, whilst emblazoned banners waved above his 
 head, and the flame of a thousand tapers glanced 
 amidst column and fretted arch, to offer up his arms 
 and his horse to " Our Lady of Victory." So likewise 
 at the fimeral of the valiant Gaston Phoebus Count 
 de Foix, his horse and arms were solemnly offered at 
 the altar of Orthes, and were afterwards redeemed 
 for a large sum in gold. 
 
 To retin-n to the Druidical festivals of the West. 
 That we have still some vestiges of that sacred to 
 Godo, the British Ceres (so frequently mentioned in 
 the ancient poems of the bards), whose rites were 
 observed at the time of harvest, cannot, I think, be 
 doubted. And as I have myself witnessed these, I 
 can speak v.ith more confidence on the subject.
 
 330 SPIRIT OF THE HARVEST. [lET. 
 
 The folloA\nng few particulars will be found not un- 
 worthy the notice of the antiquary. 
 
 One evenins:, about the end of harvest, I was 
 riding out on my pony, attended by a servant who; 
 was born and bred a Devonian. We were passing 
 near a field on the borders of Dartmoor, where the 
 reapers were assembled. In a moment the pony 
 started nearly from one side of the way to the other, 
 so sudden came a shout from the field, which gave 
 him this alarm. On my stopping to ask my servant 
 what all that noise was about, he seemed surprised 
 by the question, and said " It was only the people 
 making their games as they always did, to the spirit 
 of tJie harvest' Such a reply was quite sufficient to 
 duce me to stop immediately ; as I felt certain here 
 was to be observed some curious vestige of a most 
 ancient superstition ; and I soon gained all the 
 information I could A\'ish to obtain upon the subject; 
 The offering to the spirit of the harvest is thus 
 made. 
 
 When the reaping is finished, toward evening 
 the labourers select some of the best ears of corn 
 from the sheaves ; these they tie together, and it is 
 called the nack. Sometimes, as it was when I wit- 
 nessed the custom, this nack is decorated with flowers, 
 twisted in with the reed, which gives it a gay and 
 fantastic appearance. The reapers then proceed to 
 a fiiyh place (such, in fact, was the field on the side 
 of a steep hill where I saw them) and there they go, 
 to use their own words, to " holla the nack.' The 
 man who bears this offering stands in the midst, 
 elevates it, whilst all the other labourers form them- 
 selves into a circle about him ; each holds aloft his 
 hook, and in a moment they all shout, as loud as
 
 XIX.] VESTIGES OF DRUIDISM. 331 
 
 they possibly can, these words, which I spell as I 
 heard them pronounced, and I presume they are 
 not to be found in any written record. ' Arnack, 
 aniack, arnack, we^avcn. we/mven, we/iaven*." — This 
 is repeated three several times ; and the firkin is 
 handed roimd between each shout, by wav, I con- 
 clude, of libation. "When the weather is fine, dif- 
 ferent parties of reapers, each stationed on some 
 height, may be heard for miles round, shouting, as it 
 were, in answer to each other. 
 
 The evening I witnessed this ceremony, many 
 women and children, some carr\-ui£: boughs, and 
 others ha^-ing flowers in their caps, or in their 
 hands, or in their bonnets, were seen, some dancing, 
 others singing, whilst the men (whose exclamations 
 so startled my pony) practised the above rites in a 
 ring. When we recollect that in order to do so 
 the reapers invariably assemble on some high place, 
 that they form themselves into a circle, whilst one of 
 their party holds the offering of the finest ears of 
 corn in the middle of the ring, can we for a moment 
 doubt this custom is a vestige of Druidism .'' The 
 
 * " A knack,'''' saj-s Fosbroke, "'is a curious kind of figure, hung 
 up and kept till the next j-ear.'' Thus we have in Shakspeare — " A 
 knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap." I venture, also, to consider that 
 " Wthaven" is a corruption of wee ane, a little one, or child. See 
 Johns. Die, wee. For this note, and the following, I am indebted 
 to Mr. Bray. He suggests that F'^y may be derived either from jiix 
 or pax, possibly both, as these words have been confounded by no less 
 a lexicographer than Johnson. Pix signifies " a little chest or box, 
 in which the consecrated host is kept in Roman Catholic countries ;" 
 and Pax " a sort of little image, a piece of bread, having the image 
 of Christ upon the cross on it; which the people, before the Refor- 
 mation, used to kiss after the service was ended, that ceremony being 
 considered a.svi kiss of peace. ' Kiss the /jot, and be quiet with your 
 neighbours.' Chapman's Comedy of May Day (1611)."
 
 332 PLANTS HELD SACRED. [lET. 
 
 man so elevating the offering is, in all probability, 
 no other than the siiccessor of the priest, whose duty 
 it was to offer up the first and best fruits of the 
 harvest to the goddess who fostered its increase, as 
 his brother priests formed about him that circle which 
 was held sacred in the forms and offices of religion ; 
 and I cannot but conclude that we have not throug-h- 
 out the whole kingdom a more curious rite, derived 
 from Pagan antiquity, than the one just mentioned 
 that I witnessed on the borders of Dartmoor. 
 
 I do not here alhide to the mode of charminjj 
 adders Avith the ashen bough or wand, still practised 
 on the moor ; because I have before spoken at large 
 on that subject. A few other customs, though less 
 striking in their character, merit some attention, as 
 they all help to throw light on that obscurity Avhich 
 involves the earliest ages in the history of this part 
 of England. 
 
 We know from ancient writers that the British 
 priesthood held sacred many plants, herbs, and trees. 
 Their reverence for the all-heal, or miseltoe, is too 
 universally known to require being noticed here. 
 But it is not a little remarkable that the common 
 people of Dartmoor, and, indeed, throughout all this 
 neighbourhood, hold in great reverence many herbs, 
 which they use to cure divers diseases, accompanying 
 their applications, even as did the Druids, with sun- 
 dry mystical charms in barbarous verse. Though 
 I had attempted to get some of the old women to 
 repeat to me these charms, I never could succeed 
 with them ; and never should, had it not been for 
 Mary Colling. The reason was this : the lower 
 orders entertain an idea tliat if once these charms 
 get, as they say, ' into a printed book,' all their effi-
 
 XIX.] HERBS — CHARMS. 333 
 
 cacy will be for ever destroyed. The good old souls, 
 therefore, when I questioned them (having pre- 
 viously taken it into their heads that all I heard 
 would go into print) would not risk a charm in my 
 hearing. With Mary they were less suspicious, and 
 by her means many of their charms stand at this 
 hour in jeopardy. Nothing can be more barbarous 
 than the rhymes that compose them ; and these are 
 used over many of their decoctions from herbs that 
 are really medicinal. The names by Avhich such de- 
 coctions and herbs are known would puzzle a better 
 botanist than I shall ever be ; since who, for in- 
 stance, would ever guess what was meant by organs 
 tea, an excellent potation for a cold, and here much 
 in request. Other names equally strange could I 
 repeat, if by any possibility I could guess what 
 letters of the alphabet when put together wovild 
 produce any word to express a similar pronunciation 
 of uncouth sounds. 
 
 I have been charmed myself, though against my 
 will, by the good-natured assiduity of an old servant, 
 who, when I was suffering from inflammation in 
 the eyes, determined to cure me by one of these 
 heathenish rites. Mr. Courtenay, of Walreddon 
 House, in this neighbourhood, was also charmed, 
 for the same complaint, by an old woman who ex- 
 ercised her skill upon him without his permission ; 
 and as he has never since been troubled with his 
 old disorder, the cure is duly ascribed to successful 
 magic by the Aailgar. 
 
 Divested of their superstitions, we have, indeed, 
 in this town and neighbourhood many usefiil elderly 
 women, who act not only as charmers, but as nurses ; 
 and who, with a little more instruction, might be-
 
 334 CHARMS. [lET- 
 
 come as ser\'icable as that most praiseworthy and 
 respectable of all the religious orders of the Church 
 of Rome — the Nuns of Charity; an order so emi- 
 nently useful, that every one "will join vnth you in 
 wishing that some lady, who had talents and influ- 
 ence sufficient to carry it into effect, would lead the 
 way for a similar order being established in this 
 country on a Protestant fovmdation. To return to 
 oiu- good old women. The charms which they hold 
 in such estimation are carefully handed down from 
 one generation to another. This is done by a 
 woman communicating the secret of these mysteries 
 to a man, or a man to a woman, as the most likely 
 means of preser\dng them in their full efficacy ; now 
 and then, however, they tell the secret to one of 
 their own sex. Here is a barbarous string of rhymes 
 to stop an effusion of blood : 
 
 "Jesus was born in Bethlehem, 
 Baptized in river Jordan, when 
 The water was wild in the wood, 
 The person was just and good, 
 Gud spake, and the water stood 
 And so shall now thy blood — 
 
 •' In the name of the Father, Son, &c." 
 
 If a man, or woman has been injured by a scald 
 or burn, then shall the charmer place her hand 
 ■ gently on the hurt, and in a soft voice shall say : 
 
 " Three angels came from the north, east, and west, 
 One brought fire, another brought ice, 
 And the third brought the Holy Ghost, 
 So out fire and in frost. 
 "In the name, &c." 
 
 But these are Christian charms, grafted, no doubt, on 
 heathenish superstitions. There are others, how- 
 ever, more decidedly of Pagan origin.
 
 XIX.] SALUTING THE APPLE-TREE. 335 
 
 The apple-tree, brought into this country by the 
 Romans, was soon held in almost sacred estimation 
 bv the Britons ; it is frequently referred to as sym- 
 bohcal by the Welsh bards*. Probably the reve- 
 rence that Avas paid to it might have arisen from 
 the miseltoe being found to gi'OAv upon it, as well 
 as upon the oaky . On Christmas-eve, the farmers 
 and their men, in this part of the world, often take 
 a laro-e bowl of cider with a toast in it, and carrying 
 it in state to the orchard, they salute the apple-trees 
 with much ceremony, in order to make them bear 
 well the next season. This salutation consists in 
 throwing some of the cider about the roots of the 
 trees, placing bits of the toast on the branches ; and 
 then forming themselves into a ring, they, like the 
 bards of old, set up their voices, and sing a song, 
 wliich may be found in Brands Popular Anti- 
 quities J. 
 
 The last of October was, however, the principal, 
 and, indeed, the most terrific day of all Druidical 
 festivals : and truly may it also be called one of 
 
 * Hywell, the son of Owen, thus sings: — "I love in the summer 
 season the prancing steeds of the placid-smiling chiefs; in the 
 presence of the gallant Lord who rules the foam-covered nimbly- 
 moving wave. But another has won the token of the apple sprai/, 
 and Gwalchmai thus sings: — 'The point of the apple-lree supposing 
 blossoms, proud covering of the wood, declares — every one's desire 
 tends to the place of his affections.'"' — Daviess Bards. 
 
 f On reading this letter, Mr. Southey had the kindness to make 
 the following note : 
 
 " Miseltoe is so rare upon the oak, that a reward was offered for 
 discovering it there some five or six and thirty years ago, by the 
 Society of the Adelphi, I believe. It was found (and the prize 
 obtained for it) at a place called the Boyse, in Gloucestershire, on 
 the borders of Herefordshire, and there I saw it." 
 
 + Brand mentions the custom of saluting the apples as still prac- 
 tised in Cornwall and Devon, He gives two of the songs thus : —
 
 33G THE LAST OF OCTOBER. [lET. 
 
 craft ; since on that day every person was compelled 
 to extinguish all fire in his house, and come to the 
 priest in order to obtain from liim a consecrated 
 brand, taken from the altar to renew it. But if any 
 begged this, without having previously paid what- 
 ever might be due to the priest, it was denied to 
 him, and the terrific sentence of excommunication 
 pronounced. This sentence consigned the miserable 
 defaulter to a lingering death from cold and hunger. 
 His cattle were seized ; he had no fire to cheer his 
 home, or to dress food for his subsistence, or to warm 
 him in the depth of winter, whilst surrounded by 
 frosts and snows. No friend, kindred or neighbour, 
 was allowed to supply liim vnih fire, under pain of 
 incurring the like cruel sentence. Never, surel}-, 
 did an idolatrous priesthood invent a more certain 
 or more cruel means of enforcing their extortions. 
 
 To beg fire at the doors of the rich on the 
 last day of October, when the gift was generally 
 accompanied by some trifling donation in money, 
 I have somewhere read, was, ^vith the poor, formerly 
 a custom in the western parts of England, as well as 
 in Wales. It is now, I believe, wholly extinct. But 
 
 "Here's to thee, old apple-tree, 
 Whence thou raay'st bud, and whence thou may'st blow ! 
 And whence thou may'st bear apples enow ! 
 
 Hats full ! caps full ! 
 
 Bushel — bushel — sacks full 
 
 And my pockets full too ! Huzza !" 
 The other song runs thus : 
 
 '•Health to thee, p;ood apple-tree, 
 
 Well to bear, pocket-fulls, liat-fuUs, 
 
 Peck.fulls, bushel-bag-fulls." 
 This last is, I understand, the song of this neighbourhood on ob- 
 serving the custom.
 
 XIX.J ANIMALS OF DARTMOOR. 337 
 
 on old Midsummer-day, the farmers of the moor 
 ride about, and lay hands on all the stray cattle or 
 sheep they can find; these are consigned to the 
 Pound ; and they receive so much per head for all 
 thus found. 
 
 The decay of ancient customs on Dartmoor is 
 mainly to be attributed to Avhat are considered its 
 improvements. The chief amongst these was the 
 erection of the French prison. I have been told 
 it was calculated to contain ten thousand prisoners ; 
 if this statement is correct or not I cannot say. 
 The building, also, of Prince Town, Tor Koyal, the 
 mansion of Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt, and other habi- 
 tations belonging to persons of property" and influ- 
 ence, are all things that have helped to ci\-ilize the 
 peasantry of the moor, and to root out, in a great 
 degree, their ancient superstitions; though, I be- 
 lieve, in no part of England has the march of intel- 
 lect marched at a slower pace than on the moor. 
 Many of its inhabitants cannot read ; they speak 
 the broadest Devonshire ; but are, in their general 
 character, a simple and honest race, and as hardy as 
 the aborio'inal inhabitants of the soil. 
 
 O 
 
 Having now endeavoured to give you a general 
 idea of a place so little known in an historical and 
 topographical view as Dartmoor, I hope in my next 
 letters to conduct you to Tavistock and its vicinity, 
 where, I trust, I may find some subjects not alto- 
 gether unworthy your attention. Sincerely thanking 
 you for allowing both Mr. Bray and myself thus far 
 to be your guides over the moor. 
 
 Permit me to remain, my dear Sir, 
 With much respect, very truly and faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna Eliza Bray. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 338 QUADRUPEDS. [lET. 
 
 P. S. — My dear Sir, — Since -writing the above, I 
 have been favoured with some few particulars re- 
 specting our animals in this neighbourhood, from a 
 friend who is well known amongst us on account of 
 his talents and worth — the Rev. Thomas Johnes, 
 Hector of Bradstone, Devon. This gentleman^ for 
 whom we entertain a very high regard, to the pursuits 
 of a scholar unites those of a naturalist, and has a 
 feeling command of his pencil in the delineation of 
 our scenery. Whenever you honour us with a \'isit 
 at Tavistock, Ave hope to take you to his house, that 
 you may see his beautiful collection of birds. These 
 he stuffed himself, and in a manner superior to any 
 I ever yet saw elsewhere ; for he has been most happy 
 in giving such a position to each as best to convey 
 an idea of the action of the bird. Many of them 
 are very beautiful : one hawk I particularly remem- 
 ber, with its prey ; it looks as if it had at the instant 
 darted upon it and grasped it in its talons. 
 
 Mr. Johnes thus begins his letter to me : — " At 
 last I have summoned resolution to send j'ou the 
 long-promised account of the animals of this counlr}'. 
 I anxiously hope that you will not be disappointed; 
 and I am sure you mil treat me with all due consi- 
 deration when you reflect how confined and hack- 
 neyed is the svibject which I have handled. * * * * 
 The different species of four-footed animals, natives 
 of this country, are so few in number, and for the 
 most part so familiar to the sight, that a particular 
 description of each, or a lengthened detail of their 
 habits and manners, would be superfluous. 
 
 " The effect of that variety of soil and climate, 
 which is a striking peculiarity of the district you have 
 undertaken to describe^, is most conspicuous in the
 
 XIX.] QUADRUPEDS. 339 
 
 breeds of domesticated quadrupeds : the wild sorts 
 preserve their distinctions of size and form pretty 
 constantly wherever they are found in this kingdom. 
 Ha\dng first noticed the few varieties of domestic 
 quadrupeds which are the produce of this district, I 
 shall add such remarks on the others as are furnished 
 by my own observations and the experience of cre- 
 dible friends. 
 
 " The Dartmoor pony is usually about twelve hands 
 and a half in height, coarse in its form, but sur- 
 prisingly spirited and hardy. The late Edward 
 Bray, Esq., of Tavistock, reared great numbers of 
 these horses, which were disposed of at an annual 
 sale held on the moor. Since the death of that gen- 
 tleman the breed is become almost extinct. 
 
 " The North Devon breed of oxen, in great purity, 
 is the common neat stock of this country. Its excel- 
 lence consists in the superiority of its fatting quality. 
 Heifers or cows of three and four years old are pre- 
 ferred for feeding ; and they are fit for the market 
 in the short period of twenty Aveeks. They are not 
 much esteemed for the dairy, yielding but a small 
 qv;antity of milk, and not of the richest quality. 
 There is great symmetry in their form, and an ap- 
 pearance of high breed, but they are apt to be too 
 long in the legs, and too flat in the ribs, 
 
 " The Dartmoor sheep, which produces the well- 
 known Oakhampton mutton, is a small breed weigh- 
 ing about fourteen pounds per quarter. They are 
 kept on the moor during the summer, and the cheap- 
 ness of their feed, which amounts to twenty pence 
 a score for that season, and from seven to nine pence 
 for the winter, makes it profitable to the farmer to 
 keep large flocks of them principally for the sake of 
 
 q2
 
 340 QUADRUPEDS. [lET. 
 
 their avooI. which averages seven pounds a fleece. 
 Their superior flavour may be ascribed principally to 
 the nature of the animal, and partly to the circum- 
 stance of their beins^ killed at a more mature ae:e 
 than is usual in other places : — by no means can it 
 be attributed to the herbage of the moor, which is 
 exceedinoflv coarse and deficient in nourishment. 
 
 "The red deer, called in Devonshire the forester, 
 or forest deer, was once abundant in the extensive 
 woods on the banks of the Tavy and the Tamar, and 
 many packs of stag-hounds were kept in the neigh- 
 bourhood*. The hall in the manor-house of Brad- 
 stone is still adorned with the trophies of this glo- 
 rious chase, the skulls and horns of the forester 
 forming an appropriate series of metopes round that 
 ancient room. But it is long ago extinct. A soli- 
 tary straggler now and then visits us from the north 
 of Devon : one was seen in the woods of Hornacott 
 Manor, on the banks of the Tamar, in the spring 
 and summer of 1831. 
 
 "The otter is an inhabitant of all the rivers in this 
 neighbourhood. The river Ottery, or Ottry, which 
 rises in the parish of Ottcrham, and falls into the 
 Tamar at Werrington, is supposed to derive its name 
 from the numbers of these animals formerly found in 
 it. The hunting of the otter is hereabouts a favour- 
 ite and agreeable summer sport. It is necessary to 
 
 * So numerous were the red deer in this immediate neij^hbourhood, 
 that the late Mr. Bray often mentioned that he could recollect, in the 
 lime of the present Duke of Bedford's grandfather, the farmers peti- 
 "lioned his j^race to get rid of them, on account of the injury thej' did 
 fo the crops. The Duke sent down his stag-hounds from Woburn, 
 the finest chases took place, and the deer were extirpated. So glutted 
 was the town with venison at the time, that only the haunches were 
 cavedj and the rest given to the dogs.
 
 XIX.] GAME. 341 
 
 commence at or before day-break, as the animal 
 seldom moves in the day-time, and the heat of the 
 sun quickly exhales the scent. It is a hardy and 
 wary creature, very tenacious of life ; and success in 
 this sport can only be insured by men and dogs who 
 have been long and well trained to it. Its couch is 
 formed in the bank of a stream, and the access to it 
 is under water : there is a vent-hole for air at some 
 distance on the top of the bank ; here it deposits 
 its young, four or five in number. It weighs from 
 eighteen to twenty pounds, though some have been 
 killed weighing thirty pounds. The north Teign is 
 at present the favourite resort of the otter, simply 
 because it abounds in fish, which are not hindered 
 from coming up from the sea by weirs, as is the case 
 in most other of our rivers. 
 
 "The polecat, foumart, or fitch, is found every 
 where hereabouts, but particularly in the neighbour- 
 hood of the large marshes, or as they are very pro- 
 perly called, 7ni)'es of Dartmoor : where, besides 
 rabbits, rats, and birds, it preys on frogs and lizards ; 
 and even the remains of fish have been found in its 
 lair. This was first noticed by Bewick, and it was 
 confirmed by an old gamekeeper on the moor, who 
 thought this curioiis circumstance was first remarked 
 by himself. All the animals of this tribe, from the 
 stear to the weasel, are fond of the neighbourhood of 
 water ; the sable is known to be amphibious, and a 
 variety of this species, an inhabitant of North Ame- 
 rica, mentioned by Pennant, has obtained the name 
 of the fisher. 
 
 " Since the preservation of game has been at- 
 tended to in this ncio-hbourhood, the martin cat and 
 others of its kin have become scarce. This weasel is 
 of a dark brown colour, and the tlu'oat and belly are
 
 342 FOXES. [let. 
 
 ■white, wliicli distinguislies it from the pine weasel, 
 whose breast is yellow. The latter animal, though 
 rare in this kingdom, was not uncommon a few years 
 ago in the plantations of Mr. Carpenter, in the parish 
 of Milton Abbot. 
 
 " The stoat, vair, or vairy, is the commonest of 
 the weasel tribe. The most remarkable circumstance 
 concerning it is its winter change of garb from brown 
 to white, when it is called the ermine. This change 
 is not universal in our latitude, as brown stoats are 
 found in the winter, and others \vith various degrees 
 of white. The change commences at the lower part 
 of the sides ; and the last part wliich turns white is 
 the forehead. It is singular enough that the males 
 are most subject to this change, a female white stoat, 
 or ermine, being considered a rai'ity by the war- 
 reners. 
 
 " There is a pretty variety of the squirrel found 
 hereabouts, which differs from the common sort in 
 having the tail or brush and the pencils of the ears 
 of a yelloA^sh white. I hear they are common about 
 Kingston Hall, in Dorsetshire. 
 
 "■ Of the fox, there are two sorts natives of this 
 country — the greyhound fox and the cur fox. The 
 greyhound fox is found on Dartmoor, where it is 
 known by the name of the wolf fox, and has some- 
 times been met with of an extraordinary size. One 
 killed there a few years since, when stretched out, 
 measured five feet from the middle claw of the fore 
 foot, to the tip of the middle hind claw. A friend of 
 mine, in this neighbourhood, had a tame vixen fox 
 of the cur sort chained up about a hundred yards 
 from his house. During the first spring of her con- 
 finement she was visited by a dog-fox, and in due 
 season brought forth six cubs. The male appeared
 
 XIX.] BADGER. 343 
 
 fully sensible of the captivity of his mate, and with 
 very substantial gallantry supplied her with abun- 
 dance of food, as the items of her larder for one 
 night will show. 
 
 One full-grown hare ; 
 Eight young rabbits ; 
 Six moles. 
 
 What a supper ! He seems never to have meddled 
 with feathered game, though the neighbouring co- 
 vers abounded in pheasants. The same thing was 
 repeated in the following spring. 
 
 "The badger is common, and used here for the 
 cruel sport of baiting. Its skin is exceedingly thick 
 and tough. I once dissected a badger which had been 
 baited for three days, during which it killed several 
 dogs, and was at last itself killed by a large mastiifj 
 yet I could not detect a single perforation of the 
 skin, though there was a great deal of extravasated 
 blood, pointing out the parts which had suffered 
 most from dogs. Its stomach contained only moles' 
 fur. The badger is the fox s pioneer — the latter 
 seldom, perhaps never, digging a hole for himself. 
 Wlien pressed for an habitation, he fixes on the hole 
 of a badger, and ejects the owner by a certain name- 
 less process, most offensive to the delicate senses 
 and cleanly habits of the badger. 
 
 "Akeen sportsman of this neighbourhood has made 
 an iuffcnious use of the instincts of these two ani- 
 mals in order to stock his preserves with foxes. He 
 tethers a badger to a suitable spot in his plantations 
 where he soon digs a convenient domicile, the badger 
 is then removed, and a young fox put in full pos- 
 session of the kennel. 
 
 " We have two kind of rats, the water-rat and the 
 brown Norway rat.
 
 344 MICE AND BATS. [lET. XIX. 
 
 " It was remarlced more than two hundred years 
 ago by an historian of the adjoining county* that, 
 ' of all manner of vermine, Cornish houses are most 
 pestered with rats ; a brood very hurtfuU for devour- 
 ing of meat, clothes, and writings by da}^ ; and alike 
 cumbersome through their crying and rattling while 
 they damicc their gallop gallyards in the roofc at 
 night.' This was said of the black rat, which has 
 been exterminated by the brown or Norway rat, of 
 which we may truly say that it comes not a whit 
 behind its predecessor either in daily rapine, or in 
 the provoking cumbersomeness of its gaily ar ding by 
 night. 
 
 "We have mice — the dormouse, house mouse, 
 shrew, called here the screw, the field-mouse, and the 
 short-tailed field-mouse. 
 
 " I have noticed three species of bats ; the short- 
 eared bat, which is greyish dun ; the long-eared bat, 
 and a small bat with black nose and legs, and the 
 fur of a reddish cast. 
 
 " The hedo-ehoof is common. It is the same calum- 
 et o 
 
 niated and ill-used animal here as in other places. 
 And thus much for the quadrupeds of this district. 
 The birds are more in number, and of greater variety 
 and rarity. They will form the subject of my next 
 commvmication ." 
 
 So concludes Mr. Johnes ; and as I have a short 
 notice to add, from Mr. Bray's Journal of this year, 
 respecting a few vestiges, not hitherto mentioned, on 
 the moor, I ])ropose to send them with the copy of 
 the bird letter, above promised, at some future op- 
 portunity. In the interval. 
 
 Allow me the honour to remain, &c. &c., 
 
 A. E. Bray. 
 
 * Carew's Survey of Cornwall.
 
 345 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 Contents. — The Birds of Darfmoor, &c. &c. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I have great pleasure in now being able to 
 convey to you the following interesting letter, which 
 I have just received from the Eev. Mr. Johnes, on. 
 the birds of this district. 
 
 " TO MRS. BRAY. 
 "Dear Madam, 
 
 " The Tors of Dartmoor, lofty though they be 
 and desolate, are yet too accessible to afford shelter 
 to the eagle or its eyrie. Dr. E. Moore of Plymouth 
 indeed mentions a pair, which built some years since 
 on Dewerstone rock, in Bickleigh Vale, but he speaks 
 from report only. The osprey, or bald-buzzard, is 
 the only bird of this tribe kno\vn in Devonshire, 
 where it is supposed by good ornithologists to be 
 more frequently met with than in any other part of 
 England. The common buzzard frequents the sea- 
 coast in great numbers, where it breeds in the cliffs. 
 The honey buzzard occurs but rarely ; it has, how- 
 ever, been noticed on Dartmoor. The moor buzzard 
 is not uncommon. About August they are fre- 
 quently found hawking about the cultivated lands, 
 and near farm-houses. It is affirmed that kites were 
 common in this district forty or fifty years ago. At 
 present they are so rare, that I have never seen one 
 
 q3
 
 346 BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 alive ; and but one, a very beautiful specimen, in the 
 collection of the late W. Baron, Esq., at Tregear *. I 
 was told that they were frequently found in that 
 neighbourhood. The goshawk is admitted into the 
 Favina of Devon, on the authority of Dr. Tucker of 
 Ashburton, who says it has been found on Dartmoor. 
 The sparrow-hawk is one of the few hawks which do 
 not migrate, but stay here all the year. I have not 
 noticed the hen-harrier, or the ring-taU (its female), 
 in the winter months. The country people call it 
 the furze-kite. 
 
 "The kestrel, called here the mnd-fanner and Avind- 
 hover, from its motion when hovering over the same 
 spot in search of its quarry, comes in great numbers 
 in the spring to breed in the lofty rocks of Morwell 
 and Cartha Martha. In the latter place more than 
 fifty have been shot during one summer. Some few 
 remain all the year. I have dissected many, and 
 have never found any thing in the stomach but a 
 small green lizard, which I have not been able to 
 find alive. The hobby, called in falconry the lady's 
 hawk, comes here in the spring, and builds in our 
 woods on the tops of high trees, but is not common. 
 This bird is a great destroyer of the lark, as noticed 
 
 * Mr. Bray, however, tells me that, about thirty years ago, a kite, 
 having one of its wings clipped, was kept for several years in his 
 father's garden. It was fond of placing itself on the steps of the 
 portico of the house, and not unfrequently, by pecking at their feet, 
 alarmed such strangers as would enter it. The leathers of its wing 
 having, through neglect, been suffered to grow, the bird was accus- 
 tomed to mount the walls of the garden, and thence to dart at those 
 who were in it: for some time, no greater injury had been effected. 
 But at last, when Mr. Bray himself entered the garden, having per- 
 haps become more daring from impunity, it took a lower flight, and 
 would probably have struck him in the face had he not prevented 
 it by knocking it down with his stick.
 
 XX.] BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. 347 
 
 by Williighby. In tlic stomachs of two I found 
 nothina- but tlie remains of that bh*d. Hence it was 
 called by Johnson accipiter alaudarius. 
 
 " The merlin is sometimes seen here in October, 
 but rarely. It probably escapes our notice by its 
 small size and quickness of motion. 
 
 " Of owls we have four sorts, one of which is mi- 
 gratory, namely, the short-eared owl ; though I have 
 fovmd the long-eared owl only in the autumn and 
 ■winter, and in the neighbourhood of moors. But 
 Col. Montagu says they have been killed in summer. 
 
 " Of the short-eared owl I possess two specimens, 
 a male and female. The male is smaller than the 
 female. They are found, I believe invariably, on 
 the grov\nd in long grass, and young fir plantations, 
 I believe they migrate to England only occasionally, 
 and then in considerable numbers. I have neither 
 seen nor heard of one for several years. It is called 
 also the woodcock owl from the time of its appear- 
 ance. The brown owl is found in woods and espe- 
 cially among rocks covered with ivy. It is common. 
 The white oavI, or barn owl : this beautiful bird is 
 common, and a useful friend to the farmer, by whom 
 it is usually protected. They fly in the day-time, 
 and in the breeding season the quantity of mice they 
 destroy is prodigious. They prey three hours in the 
 morning, and three in the evening, during Avhicli 
 time each bird brings to its yormg, at the very low- 
 est calculation, twenty-four mice, making the sum 
 of three hundred and thirty-six in the course of one 
 week, besides what it destroys for its OAvn food. This 
 bird, as well as the broAvn owl, hoots. Tliis fact is 
 clearly ascertained. 
 
 " The ash-colourcd shrike is so very seldom seen
 
 348 BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. [leT. 
 
 in England, that it scarcely deserves to be called a 
 British bird, but the red-backed shrike is common 
 enough in the summer. It builds in hedges, fre- 
 quently near a public road, and leaves us in autumn. 
 
 "Ravens, crows, daws, jays, magpies, and rooks 
 are abundant in their several localities. The latter, 
 though doubtless a useful bird to the farmer in ge- 
 neral, yet in dry springs is quite a nuisance. Last 
 year they almost destroyed the potato crops in the 
 neighbourhood of a large rookery, by digging up 
 the seed, which the looseness of the earth permitted 
 them to do with ease. The Royston crow is found 
 on the sea-coast in the winter. 
 
 " Starlings come here in September, and are found 
 in company with the rooks in the beginning of the 
 season. In December and January they are in vast 
 numbers about the grass fields, but leave us in the 
 latter end of January or the beginning of February. 
 They do not breed hereabouts. 
 
 " The ring-owzel visits Dartmoor in April, where it 
 breeds, and departs in the beginning of November. 
 The cock is a very restless and wary bird. His 
 spring call, which consists of two notes repeated foiu' 
 times with a short pause, is incessant; while the hen 
 is sitting he sings mornings and evenings delight- 
 fully, and is then very daring. The nest is fre- 
 quently found in the side of a turf tye, that is, a pit 
 from which they dig turfs for fuel. 
 
 " The missel-thrush is common, and in August they 
 are seen in flocks of from twenty to thirty in the 
 fields where the beat (that is the slight layer of turf 
 which is spaded off" the land) is burnt, preparatory to 
 ploughing for wheat. It is singular that so shy a 
 bird should build its nest in such open and frc-
 
 XX.] BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. 349 
 
 quented places. April 13, 1834, I found the nest 
 of a missel thrush in the fork of a young apple-tree, 
 about two feet from the ground, in an exposed situ- 
 ation near the road leading to the house. It was 
 composed on the outside of the stems of couch and 
 other grasses, a mixture of clay, a little moss of the 
 apple-tree, and lined with hay. It then contained 
 one egg. The bird continued to lay every day re- 
 gularly between 9 and 10 in the morning until 
 Friday the 18th, and immediately began to sit. On 
 that day and the following it was restless, and easily 
 frightened from the nest, but aftersvards sat Aery 
 close until that day fortnight, May 2, when four 
 young birds were produced. I could not discover 
 what became of the other two eggs, though I searched 
 the nest and the ground round the tree very closely. 
 On the 9th May they opened their eyes. The ra- 
 pidity of their growth was amazing, the four quite 
 filled the nest. Their feathers also grew so fast, that 
 they were completely flushed on Sunday the lith, a 
 small space under the pinions excepted. On the 
 folloAvino- dav thev left the nest. Thus the number 
 of days occu.pied from the commencement of laying 
 to the perfecting the young amounted to only thirty. 
 
 " I once saw a song-thrush, which had been taken 
 from the nest and kept in a cage for sixteen years, 
 it then died. It was very grey about the head and 
 back, and apparently died of old age. 
 
 " The wryneck is a rare bird here, but is found in 
 sequestered spots near the Cornish moors, where 
 there are large timber trees : this bird and the 
 nuthatch are similar in their habits, but the latter 
 does not migrate. 
 
 " I have been able to detect but two species of
 
 350 BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 the woodpecker : the green and the greater spotted ; 
 the first is common, but the other very rare. 
 
 " The hooper is sometimes met with in the au- 
 tumn, but may be considered as a very rare wan- 
 derer : yet I have heard a gentleman, of great 
 respectability, and very observing, say that he many 
 years ago saw the nest of this bird Avith four young 
 ones, which was taken in the wood close to the house 
 at Morwell, in the Parish of Tavistock. 
 
 " The cross-bill I beheve to be very rare : for 
 though we have many orchards, I have never heard 
 of one in this neighbourhood ; and yet in the eastern 
 part of Cornwall, about Egloskerry, where orchards 
 are scarce, it has been occasionally found in old fir 
 plantations. 
 
 " The grosbeak is also rare : I have seen but one 
 specimen, killed in November, 1828, 
 
 "The cirl-bunting is found, but always near the 
 sea-coast ; there it remains all the year, and changes 
 its plumage in the autumn, so as to become more 
 like the yellow-hammer : some, however, come over 
 from the continent in the spring, as they are then 
 found in greater numbers than in the A\dnter. 
 
 "Linnets, buntings, and bulfinches are common, 
 except the reed-sparrow; which is found on the 
 reedy banks of the Tamar below Morwell rocks. 
 
 " The mountain-finch has been taken here, but 
 only in severe winters. The rest of the tribe are 
 common, except the siskin. 
 
 " The pied wagtail remains here during the winter. 
 I have seen the grey wagtail on the Tamar in June ; 
 no doubt it breeds there. 
 
 " The redstart is uncommon ; but there are cer- 
 tain spots where a pair is found every year. Some
 
 XX.] BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. 351 
 
 specimens are almost black on the back : the country- 
 folks call them fire-tails. 
 
 " Sand-martins build on the Taniar in great num- 
 bers ; I have seen them on the river Gary, in the 
 early part of March. The latest swallow I have ob- 
 served was on the first of December ; it was ap- 
 parently a young one, but very vigorous. 
 
 "The night-jar is not uncommon here ; but I have 
 no tiling to record concerning it, except that I have 
 never been able to find its nest. 
 
 ''Ring-doves are very common. The turtle-dove 
 is seen but rarely in the autumn, solitary. I have 
 occasionally seen flocks of a middle-sized dark blue 
 pigeon, amounting to many hundreds, flpng about 
 the valley of the Tamar, in the latter end of au- 
 tumn, the weather mild, but have never been able to 
 procure one of them. They appear to be always on 
 the wing in the day-time, flying very high in the air. 
 
 "Domestic poultry of every sort are here most 
 abundant, and very cheap; I have seen a goose, 
 weighing nine povmds, sold in Launceston market 
 for half-a-crown. Cart-loads are taken every week 
 from Launceston to Devonport and Plymouth by the 
 Regraters. 
 
 " The pheasant has been introduced of late years 
 by the Duke of Bedford, and Sir W. P. CaU. The 
 ring-necked variety is the most common. 
 
 " We have some partridges, and the quail is some- 
 times met with in the summer. 
 
 " Of the black grous, some few still remain on Dart- 
 moor, where they breed in the turf tyes. All attempts 
 to preserve this beautiful bird are unsuccessful. The 
 great extent of the moor, while it is the sole pro- 
 tection of a few indi\iduals, renders it impossible to
 
 352 BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 defend them from the depredations of the miners 
 and turf-cutters, who frequent the moor. 
 
 " Of the great Norfolk plover (edicnemus) a spe- 
 cimen was killed on Dartmoor, Oct. 5, 1831, by F. 
 Scoble Willisford, Esq.: it weighed seventeen ounces. 
 This bird Avas a female. In the stomach we found 
 the elytra and legs of a small black beetle. It is 
 seldom met with so far west, and was not known 
 to the moormen. By the description given us, ano- 
 ther had been shot a few days before at Widdecomb- 
 in-the-Moor, probably the male of this. 
 
 " The lapwing and golden plover are common 
 enough in the cultivated lands during the severity of 
 winter : the former breeds in great numbers on 
 all our moors ; and the natives assured me that the 
 golden plover bred in Fox Tor mire, which is a vast 
 and dismal swamp on Dartmoor. 
 
 " Ring dotterals are found in large flocks, in 
 company with stints, &c., on the sea-coast, and in the 
 estuary of the Tamar. 
 
 " The sandpiper retires in pairs to the interior, in 
 the latter end of April, and is found on all the rivers 
 of this country during the breeding season. 
 
 "The oyster-catcher is rather a scarce bird; but a 
 few pairs are found, especially on the north coast, in 
 the summer and autumn. 
 
 "The water-crake I have never seen; but the 
 Avater-rail is very common, as is also the water- 
 owzel, which is found on all our rocky streams. 
 
 "Dr. Turner, as quoted by Ray, says that the rail 
 he never saw nor heard of but in Northumberland. 
 Hereabout it is not uncommon, and in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Ivy Bridge three couple have been 
 shot in one day by a single sportsman.
 
 XX.] BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. 353 
 
 "The kingfisher is found in greatest numbers 
 near the sea ; they are rather uncommon far inland. 
 
 " I once saw a specimen of the spoonbill, which 
 was taken in one of the creeks which communicates 
 with Hakeavre. 
 
 " The bittern is very rare, and only met with in 
 severe winters, such as was that of 1 831-32, when a 
 great number was killed in this district. 
 
 "The curlew breeds on all our moors, and is found 
 on our coast during the winter months. The Avhim- 
 bril is not so common. 
 
 " I know but one heronry in this immediate neigh- 
 bourhood, which is at Warleigh, the seat of the Rev. 
 W. Radchffe. 
 
 "In January, 1832, a waggoner passing over 
 Wliitchurch Down saw a large bird rise from the 
 road- side close to him ; he struck it down with his 
 wliip, and it was presented to me by C. Willesford, 
 Esq. of Tavistock. The bird was evidently ex- 
 hausted by fatigue and hunger. The following is 
 the description of it : — Leiigth two feet nine inches, 
 breadth three feet six inches ; bill six and a half 
 inches, leg five and a half; middle toe, which is 
 pectinated, five and a half; tail-feathers twelve ; fore 
 part of the head black ; hind part of ditto rufous, 
 the feathers forming a small crest. Back part of the 
 neck rusty ash colour, front part of ditto white 
 streaked with black, the streaks growing larger as 
 they descend to the breast, where they are long and 
 loose : these spots are formed by the feathers of the 
 fore part of the neck having their inner webs black, 
 the outer webs being white. The back is brown, 
 each feather being edged with rust colour, as are 
 also the greater and less wing-coverts. Quill fea- 
 thers black, fadine: into rust colour on the inner 
 
 o
 
 354 BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 web. Two inside toes webbed to the first joint. I 
 find no description of heron Avith which this agrees 
 so well as the purple heron {Ardea purpurea, Lin.) 
 of which Montagu says, ' that not more than two 
 of this species have been met with in this country.' 
 It may, therefore, be considered as one of our rarest 
 stragglers. 
 
 "A woodcock, weighing only seven ounces, was 
 shot at Trebartha, in the year 1833 : it was in very 
 perfect plumage, and excellent condition. 
 
 ^' The common snipe and the dunling breed on 
 Dartmoor, but the jack snipe leaves us in the spring. 
 
 " Of what are usually called fen birds we have but 
 few, and they are only met with occasionally, driven 
 most probably out of their course, during their mi- 
 gration, by adverse winds. 
 
 " The water-hen is common on the Tamar ; but 
 the coot seldom visits us. 
 
 " The grey phalaropc. This bird is very rare in 
 thenorthof England, according to Bewick. Scarcely 
 an autumn passes bvit I have a specimen or two sent 
 me. Mr. Jackson, of East Looe, informs me that 
 on the 27th and 28th Oct. 1831, heavy gale S.S.W., 
 great numbers of the grey phalarope appeared on the 
 coast, in flocks of about fifty each. They invariably 
 alighted on the sea and swam with ease and elegance 
 among the breakers, and darted to and fro after 
 maggots and chrysalides. They were by no means 
 shy, but appeared lean and fatigued. 
 
 "Baron-bills, called in Cornwall murres, guille- 
 mots, and puffins, or naths, abound on the north 
 coast of Cornwall about Boscastlc and in the parish 
 of St. Ginnys. 
 
 " The great northern diver. I saw a specimen of 
 this bird alive, in full plumage, at Plymouth, in the
 
 XX.] BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. 355 
 
 montli of July^ about twelve years ago. It was 
 taken at sea by some fishermen, who were carrying 
 it about as a curiosity. I do not recollect on what 
 they fed it. 
 
 "The great imber is often seen on the coast in 
 Wliitsand Bay in the summer, and very high up the 
 Tamar in winter. 
 
 " Teons are often found on the sea-coastj and they 
 have been killed on the Tamar. 
 
 " Of gulls, the great guU is rare. Out of the sto- 
 mach of one, answering to the description of the 
 wage], which Linnaeus and Pennant treated as a 
 distinct species, I took an entu-e redwmg ; an evi- 
 dence of its indiscriminate voracity. 
 
 " Larus canus, the common gull. We have a 
 curious emigration of these birds in the spring; 
 they leave the sea-coast and appear in the grass 
 lands in flocks of five, ten, or fifteen, in search of the 
 caterpillars of beetles, which at that time are pro- 
 duced under the surface. The time of their appear- 
 ance varies from February till March, and they 
 disappear the beginning of May. It is to us the 
 first harbinger of spring. It is called in some parts 
 hereabouts the barley bird, from the time of its ap- 
 pearance, at barley sowing, I suppose, as I never 
 observed them alight anywhere but in the pastures. 
 
 " The goosander. Tliis is so rare a bird, that 
 Montagu, dm-ing the long period which he devoted 
 to the study of ornithology in this county, '^ never 
 had the good fortune to dissect a single specimen.' 
 Feb. 5, 1830, I dissected a male goosander, shot on 
 the Tamar. I have the trachea in my possession ; 
 it corresponds with the description given by Wil- 
 lughby. And on the 9th I dissected another, which
 
 356 BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. 
 
 Trachea of the Goosander. Trachea of the Dimdher. 
 
 r'^ 
 m 
 
 1 inch 8-lOths, 
 
 1 inch G-lOths. 
 
 ^TT 
 
 1 inch 4-lOths. 
 
 Lc'iigtl), 1 foot 6 inches. 
 
 Length, 1 foot 21 inches.
 
 XX.] BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. 357 
 
 resembled tlic former in every respect. At the same 
 time I dissected a dundiver : it was a female : there 
 was notliiiig- remarkable in the trachea, excepting 
 perhaps that it was a little wider and flatter at the 
 upper part than at the divarication of the bronchia. 
 These two last were killed at one shot by Mr. Wal- 
 ter Wekcs, of Bradstone, out of a flock of seven 
 goosanders and dundivers. 
 
 •' The dundiver is found here, a single specimen or 
 so, every winter. 
 
 " There is still much obscurity concerning the 
 history of these birds; some contending that the 
 dundiver is the female of the goosander, others that 
 they are of distinct species. In the year 1832 I 
 dissected a bird in the plumage of the dundiver. 
 The trachea (of which I have given a drawing) is so 
 very different from that of the goosander, that I 
 cannot believe this bu'd to be a young goosander in 
 its immature plumage. Still, however, we want the 
 female of the goosander. I am inclined to think, 
 from the number of specimens 1 have examined, that 
 there are tvro sorts of birds with the plumage of the 
 dundiver, one very much larger than the other, and 
 of which I possess a specimen : this may be the 
 female of the sfoosander. The male of the smaller 
 species may continue in the same plumage of the 
 female, without changing when at maturity. 
 
 " Of the smew or white nun, and the red-headed 
 smew or Avcasel-headed coot, I have seen specimens 
 shot on the Tamar far inland. 
 
 " In January, 1830, many wild swans were killed 
 in this district. In this severe season the common 
 wild goose was seen only at the beginning of winter. 
 AVhen the frost set in severe, this bird, together
 
 358 BIRDS OF DARTMOOR. [lET. XX. 
 
 with the widgeon and others of the duck tribe, which 
 usually remain wth us during the Avinter, retired 
 most probably further to the south, and were suc- 
 ceeded by the wild swan, the wliite-fronted or laugh- 
 ing goose, the scaup, goosander, and the dundiver^ 
 birds seldom seen in this latitude. 
 
 " The corvorant is not rare, but not so common as 
 the shay, which is numerous on the north as well as 
 the south coast. 
 
 " The gannet is sometimes taken by the fishermen 
 during the summer. Ray calls it a Cornish bu-d." 
 
 So concludes Mr. Johnes' account of our birds : I 
 will not add more than the assurance that 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Very faithfully youi's, 
 
 Anna E. Bray.
 
 359 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Introductory to Mr. Bray's Letter, from the library to 
 the drawing-room, addressed to his Wife — Inscribed Obelisk 
 erected in the Vicarage garden — ^The biography of an old Stone- 
 Search formerly made after it at Buckland Monachorum — Colloquy 
 with the village Sexton — An Antiquary's discovery near the Black- 
 smith's shop — Sir Ralph Lopez presents this record of ancient 
 days to the Writer — Account of the inscribed Stone — Polwhele's 
 eonjecture that it originally stood within a Pagan temple — Pro- 
 bably a memorial of a Romanized Briton — The inscription given — 
 Various readings concerning the same — Roman and British names 
 — Tlie Stone bears reference to the period when the Celtic lan- 
 guage pervaded the whole Island — Conjecture respecting its having 
 been the Stone of an ancient barrier in the public games — Its 
 original station — A similar Stone near Roborough Down — In- 
 scription upon it — Various interpretations of the same — Allusion 
 to the Dobuni — Henry and Camden quoted — The inscription on 
 the Stone of British origin — Visit to this antiquity — Subject con- 
 tinued — Probable date of the erection — A third and similar Stone 
 mentioned — Manner of its discovery — Its high antiquity — Its in- 
 scription, &c. — Removal of these relics to the Vicarage Garden — 
 Other and curious inscribed Stones also preserved in Betsey 
 Grimbal's Tower — An Antiquary robbed of part of his treasure — 
 "Some account of one of these antiquities— Possibly a memorial 
 of Alfred the Great — Reasons assigned for the conjecture — Sub- 
 ject continued — Various readings of the inscription — Conclusion — 
 Excursion to Over Torr-rock Basins — The Walkham — Peat carts — 
 Bair-down opening a Kistvaen — Human bones found on the Moor 
 —Obelisk near Bair-down. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 The following letter, on a subject that I think 
 you will find of considerable interest, was addressed 
 
 >->:/-
 
 360 MR. bray's letter. [let. 
 
 by Mr. Bray to myself; and as I deem it better to 
 send it to you entire, instead of making any extracts 
 from it, I now therefore enclose it in this packet, and 
 I trust you vn\\ be as much pleased as I have been 
 in the perusal of its contents. 
 
 "TO MRS. BRAY. 
 
 " Vicarage, Tavistock, March 10, 1834. 
 
 "My dearest Eliza, 
 
 " I have seen advertised, though I have never 
 read the work, ' Legends of the Library at Lilies, by 
 the Lord and Lady there.' The public, therefore, 
 I hope will bear to be informed that, though we oc- 
 casionally may assist, or at least encourage, one an- 
 other by mutual advice and criticism, we do not 
 study together ; and that, though only a partition 
 divides us, I address this from the library to you 
 in the drawing-room. 
 
 " I fear that you almost suspected I should never 
 fidfil my promise of giving you some account of the 
 inscribed stones connected with this neighbourhood ; 
 and I fear yet more that the account will rather 
 suffer than improve by the delay. But such as it is> 
 I now present you with it, and leave you to present 
 it to whom you may. 
 
 " Of the lettered obelisk I have lately erected in 
 our garden, I have often heard you say, ' I wish it 
 would speak, and tell me all the tilings it has either 
 seen or heard, that I might note them do\ni.' My 
 reply has been, that were it to open its mouth, it 
 would but frighten you, and not only make you more 
 nervous than you frequently are in your speech, but 
 also in your ivriting. It certainly has been the silent 
 witness of many pleasant conversations I have shared
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONE. 361 
 
 with you whilst walking in the garden; and thus 
 much am I disposed to personify both it and its 
 companions as to give some account (as far as I 
 know) of their histor}-, I had almost said of their 
 biography. 
 
 " I vail be<jin then with the stone last mentioned. 
 And first:, as I have transplanted it into my garden, 
 and from no small distance, lest it should be thought 
 indigenous to the soil, I will notice what I think I 
 have heard botanists call its habitat, or place of its 
 natural and possibly native abode ; for as soon could 
 I believe that Deucalion converted stones into men 
 by throwing them behind him. as that any one pre- 
 vious to myself had incurred either the trouble or 
 expense to convey such a cargo of stone-crop into 
 his garden, without, too, the least prospect of being 
 productive. 
 
 " Ha\-ing learnt from Polwhele's ' History of Corn- 
 wall ' (for I had not then seen his History of Devon) 
 that an inscribed stone existed at Buckland Mona- 
 chorum, distant from Tavdstock about four miles, I 
 went tliither on the 2Sth of September, 1804, \A-ith 
 no other clue to its discovery than that it Avas ' close 
 to the church-yard.' On my arrival at the village 
 1 inquired for the sexton, thinking that he was the 
 most likely person to give me information. He 
 could hardly, however, be convinced that the object 
 of my search could be other than the monument 
 then but lately erected in the church to the memory 
 of the brave defender of Gibraltar, General Lord 
 Heathfield; considered, by some, one of Bacons 
 best productions. And on my correcting him in 
 this particidar, he still perversely conjectured, from 
 my asking about an inscription, that I sought from 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 362 INSCRIBED STONE. [lET. 
 
 him a description of the church. But on using more 
 famihar lang-uage, and describing it as a stone post 
 with letters upon it, he smiled, and said, ' I suppose. 
 Sir, that must be it behind your back.' I turned 
 round, and perceived, within a few paces from me, 
 the subject of my inquiry. It served as a coigne 
 to a blacksmith's shop, adjoining the entrance to the 
 church-yard. 
 
 "In the course of the year 1831, (for I have mis- 
 laid my memorandum of it.) on again idsiting Buck- 
 land, I found that the blacksmith's shop had recently 
 been taken doum, and the stone in question was l}Tiig 
 "vvith its inscription exposed towards the street, Avith 
 the possibility of its being worn, if not obhterated, 
 by every passing wheel. On applpng to Sir Ralph 
 Lopez, as lord of the manor, (intimating that I had 
 already in my possession a stone of probably the same 
 era,) he most kindly made me a present of it. I 
 sent, therefore, a waggon vni\\ three horses, together 
 with what is here called a jack, an engine for lifting 
 it. But I nearly ran the risk of sending them in 
 vain ; for the tenants then assembled at the Court 
 Baron refused to let my servant touch it till, fortu- 
 nately, the lord himself arrived, and removed the 
 embargo. It was brought by a circuitous route of 
 more than five miles to avoid some precipitous hills, 
 and erected, as before noticed, in my garden. 
 
 " It is a rude and rough pUlar of granite, but cer- 
 tainly more picturesque than were it a more regular 
 column. Besides, it is not only the more interesting 
 from its resemblance to the consecrated stones or 
 idols of our pagan ancestors, but also from its resem- 
 blance, by rising in a gently-sweeping line from the 
 ground, and somewhat tapering at the top, to -the
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONE. 363 
 
 trunk of a stately tree. The inscription also strength- 
 ens the similitude ; as it may well be compared to 
 those rustic letters carved, more with feeling than 
 with art, on the bark of some venerable beech. Pol- 
 whele is of opinion that (as well as many others of 
 the same description) it originally stood within the 
 precincts of a pagan temple, where, in consequence 
 of the reputed sanctity of the spot, was subsequently 
 erected a Christian church. I hope, however, that I 
 may not be accused of the guilt of sacrilege in re- 
 moving it ; for it certainly deserves a better fate 
 than to be applied to such ' base uses ' as to be a 
 ' buttress/ or ' coigne of vantage ' to the ' castle ' of 
 any modern Mulciber ; nay, what is worse, than to 
 be laid prostrate in the street. It might, even at 
 best, have been appropriated to the purpose of a 
 gate-post, as is actually the case with another in- 
 scribed stone in the neighbourhood; and, indeed 
 (of which more hereafter), this, or something of a 
 similar description, seems to have been its original 
 destination : for even in the midst of the inscription 
 is a cavity, in the form of an oblong square, which 
 possibly may have been cut for the reception of a 
 latch or bar. Its obeHsk form is more apparent 
 when viewed laterally ; as, at the back, which is of a 
 smoother and blacker surface (probably caused by 
 the contact of a contiguous stratum), it is rather 
 acutely gathered to a point; seemingly, however, 
 more by nature than by art. 
 
 " Polwhele, even in his 'History of Devon,' presents 
 us only wdth some few particvdars as to the nature 
 and dimensions of the stone, but not ^vitli the in- 
 scription. As he is not quite exact in the dimen- 
 sions, I here give them. Its height, as it at present 
 
 r2
 
 364 
 
 INSCRIBED STONE. 
 
 [let. 
 
 stands, is seven feet two and a half inches. Its 
 breadth at the bottom is seventeen, at the top four- 
 
 teen inches. From the top to the beginning of the 
 inscription are two feet one and a half inch. And
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONE. 365 
 
 the ca\dty is eight inches long and two and a half 
 deep. 
 
 "This, and other similar monuments, he imasrines 
 to have been Komano-British, and to have been 
 erected to the memory of ' a Christianized Eoman.' 
 I should rather consider it as the memorial of a Ro- 
 manized Briton, previous perhaps to the introduction 
 of Christianity into this island. There is no cross, 
 nor any request to pray for the soul of the departed, 
 which are so commonly found on the sepvilchral 
 monuments of the early, or rather Romanized, Chris- 
 tians. 
 
 " The inscription may be read (sepulchrum, sive 
 memorise) Sabini filii Maccodechetii. Of wliich the 
 translation, I conceive, may be (the grave, the grave- 
 stone, or to the memory) of Sabinus the son of Mac- 
 codechetius. The Romans, we know, had usually 
 three names — the prsenomen, the nomen, and the 
 cognomen. The prsenomen, answering to our Chris- 
 tian or proper name, marked the individual; the 
 nomen marked the gens or clan, consisting of several 
 families ; the cognomen marked the familia or im- 
 mediate family. Thus in Publius Cornelius Scipio, 
 Publivis is the praenomen, Cornelius the nomen, and 
 Scipio the cognomen. Sometimes there Avas also a 
 fourth name, called the agnomen, added from some 
 illustrious action or remarkable event. The Britons 
 (as indeed the Romans themselves) originally had 
 but one name. We may suppose, therefore, that 
 this was erected at a very early stage of society, be- 
 fore the Britons, in imitating them, had entered into 
 the more refined distinctions of their civilized in- 
 vaders. At the same time it is evident that even 
 these barbarians, previous to any intercourse with
 
 366 ANTIQUITY OF THE STONE. [lET. 
 
 the Eomans, felt, in some degree, tlie pride of an- 
 cestry : for in this very inscription, though contain- 
 ing but three words, are noticed as many generations. 
 Mac (as stUl in Scotch), signifying son, we have first 
 Codechet, the grandsire, then Maccodechet liis son, 
 and lastly Sabinus his grandson. And from this, 
 too, we may conclude that the period to which this 
 stone has reference was when the Celtic language 
 (of which the Gaelic or Erse is bvit a dialect, as also 
 the Cornish) was not confined to Scotland, but per- 
 vaded the whole island. And, according to the 
 opinion of antiquaries, the Celtic, at the time of the 
 Roman invasion, was universally spoken all over the 
 west of Europe. 
 
 "From the cavity or mortise, above alluded to, 
 nearly in the centre of it, and calculated to receive a 
 bar, I am inclined to think that this might l)e one 
 of the stones of an ancient barrier ; erected, not im- 
 probabl}^ at a spot set apart for the celebration of 
 public games. These, among the earhest nations, 
 and even among the Greeks and Romans, were 
 generally of a religious nature. And as the Celts 
 are now, I believe, universally admitted to be more 
 ancient than cither of these nations, might not, I 
 ask, the circus of the latter be taken from the Celtic 
 cutIc, and their stadium or cursus from the Celtic 
 avenue or parallelitha ? 
 
 " We first hear of this stone, Avhcre, perhaps, it 
 was originally placed, at Buckland Monachorum, or 
 Monks' Buckland, and close to the church-yard. 
 Now we know that in the early ages of Christianity 
 spots already sacred were generally chosen on which 
 to erect a church, that the heathen might thus be the 
 better conciliated to a change of religion.
 
 XXI.] ANTIQUITY OF THE STONE. 367 
 
 "Whether for the purpose of showing him gi'eatcr 
 honour, or because it was at hand, and on that ac- 
 count made use of, it is not unhkely that the Roman- 
 ized Britons dedicated this stone, at his death, to 
 the memory of one who was descended from those 
 their Celtic ancestors by whom it had originally been 
 erected. It is evident, I think, that it could not 
 have been converted to the purpose of a gate-post 
 (as is another stone in that neighboiu'hood) subse- 
 quent to the inscription ; as the letters, by being 
 lessened in size, have been made to accommodate 
 themselves to the interruption occasioned by the 
 ca\-ity. Nor is it likely that so large and lofty a 
 stone would originally have been selected for a com- 
 mon gate-post, wliilst, on the other hand, its size 
 and height v/ould naturally have recommended it in 
 constructing a grand barrier by which to regulate 
 the public games." 
 
 "There is a stone, probably of about the same 
 era as the preceding, which may be found by follow- 
 ing the lane leading from the rock on Roborough 
 Dowm to Buckland Monachorum till you come to a 
 turning on the right hand that Avill bring you to a 
 field, of which it forms the gate-post. I am thus 
 particular in my directions, as, in searcliing for it 
 myself, I rambled mthout success for miles, and that 
 too for several days, having received no other infor- 
 mation than that it was a stone in a hedge near Ro- 
 borough Down. 
 
 " The inscription contains three names ; but it may 
 be doubted whether they aU are the names of indi-
 
 368 
 
 INSCRIBED STONES. 
 
 [let. 
 
 vidvial persons, or wlietlier one may not be of a pro- 
 fessional, and another of a national description. 
 
 "Various interpretations have suggested them- 
 selves. Some of these I shall mention, and leave 
 the reader to determine for himself. 
 
 -nOl 
 
 w 
 
 ^ 
 
 r 
 
 i! 
 
 i I 
 
 ,f 
 
 "The grave-stone — 'of Dobunnius Faber, the son 
 of Enabarrus.' 
 
 — ' Of Dobunnius the smith,' &c. 
 
 ■ — ' Of Faber, one of the Dobuni,' &c.
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONES. 369 
 
 " Faber, in later ages, was no nncommon name. 
 But I am not aware of any nearer approximation to 
 it among the Romans themselves than Fabricius. A 
 skilful workman in any art (and more particularly 
 in metal, for Faber has more especial reference to a 
 smith or worker of iron) would be of such paramount 
 importance in barbarous ages, that his trade or oc- 
 cupation would naturally become not only an ad- 
 dition to, but in itself a proper name. And probably 
 it is so in the present instance. Indeed there is still 
 no name more common than Smith in our own lan- 
 guage. And it is no less probable that the first 
 name in the inscription is that of his people ; as Do- 
 bunnius alone, without adding the smith, would be 
 a sufficient designation, particularly as he is also 
 stated to be the son of Enabarrus ; and few persons, 
 it may be supposed, unless they were chieftains 
 themselves, or the sons of chieftains, would be ho- 
 nored with any monument at all. Nor is it likely 
 that, were there two names, the first would have been 
 British and the second Koman, but, vice vei'sd, out 
 of compliment to their masters. And here I must 
 be allowed to add — as possibly throwing some light 
 on the date, and perhaps also connexion of these 
 stones in point of time, as they certainly were in re- 
 gard to place — that Sabinus, to whom the former 
 was erected, might have been so called in compli- 
 ment to a Roman officer of that name, the brother of 
 Vespasian, who was afterwards emperor. These, 
 with others imdcr Aulus Plautius, commanded the 
 army consisting of four complete legions, with their 
 auxiharies and cavalry, making about fifty thousand 
 men, which was sent, a, d. 43, by Claudius into Bri- 
 tain. See Henry, vol. i. p. 30. 
 
 r3
 
 370 inscrij3ed stones. [let. 
 
 " If, instead of being a variety in spelling, tlie re- 
 duplication of N signifies the gen. pL, namely Du- 
 boniorum, the figure ^ might purposely be used for 
 two instead of II., lest the latter should be taken for 
 the gen. sing, of a person. As there seems to be 
 some trace of letters at the end of the first line, these 
 might indicate that he was of the second cohort of 
 the Dobuni. Cohort, we know, was often used in- 
 definitely for a band or company of any number of 
 men. 
 
 " Henry (p. 32) tells us that ' a part of the Dobuni 
 submitted to the Romans. These were probably 
 the subjects of Cogidunus, who became so great a 
 favourite of Claudius, and succeeding emperors, for 
 his early submission and steady adherence to their 
 interest.' Also vol. ii. p. 459 App. : ' The second 
 legion, which was surnamed Augusta, or the Au- 
 gust, came into Britain a. d. 43, in the reign of 
 Claudius, under the command of Vespasian (who 
 was afterwards emperor), and continued here near 
 four hundred years to the final departure of the Ro- 
 mans. It was on this account that this legion was also 
 called Britannica, or the British.' Camden says that 
 ' The Cassii had conquered the Dobuni before the 
 arrival of Caesar, who made the prince of this country 
 commander-in-chief of the forces of the whole island.' 
 Also — 'The Dobuni inhabited Gloucestershire and 
 Oxfordshire. Their name seems to be derived from 
 Diiffen, a British word signifying deep or low, be- 
 cause inhabiting for the most part a plain, and val- 
 leys encompassed with hills. And I am the more 
 induced to be of this opinion, because I find that 
 Dion calls these people by a word of the same signi- 
 fication, Bodunni, if there is not a transposition of the
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONES. 371 
 
 letters. For Bodo, or Bodiin, in the antient lan- 
 guage of the Gauls, as Phny informs us, doth signify 
 Deep.' 
 
 " \A^iether, therefore, the name on this stone be 
 that of an individual or of a nation, it certainly is of 
 British origin. It is by no means improbable that 
 the spot near wliich it stands (in the vicinity of Ro- 
 borough rock) might have been a military station for 
 the Romans or their auxiliaries and allies, as, from 
 its elevation, it commands an extensive horizon, in- 
 cluding the beacons of Brent Tor, and other tors on 
 Dartmoor, and is also witliin a few miles of Ta- 
 merton, probably the antient Tamare. 
 
 " The reader may possibly lament that he has 
 wasted a few minutes in reading these observations ; 
 but let him know, for his comfort, that I have wasted 
 many hours, not only in attempting to interpret, but 
 even to decipher the inscription. In order to get 
 what, I believe, is technically called ' a rubbing,' I 
 have gone over and over again to the spot where the 
 stone is situated, amply pro\'ided with silver paper 
 (it ought, I am told, to have been tea-paper), black- 
 lead, and brushes of various kinds. But, sometimes 
 owing to the wind, and sometimes to the rain, I was 
 never able to take any thing like an impression, and 
 was forced, therefore, to content myself with different 
 sketches in pencil, of wdiich I have tried to select 
 the best. 
 
 '^ With a hope of succeeding better at my leisure, 
 and perhaps, also, with the assistance of the sun 
 when, at a certain point in its course, it would illu- 
 mine only the surface and throw the letters into 
 shade (as the inscription on Pompey's Pillar, in
 
 372 INSCRIPTION ON STONE. [lET. 
 
 Egypt, which had so puzzled the French scavans, 
 was at last thus deciphered by some officers of our 
 army), I set on foot a negociation for its transfer to 
 my garden, as a companion to my two other stones. 
 But though antiquarian covetousness was seconded 
 by beauty, in the person of one of the daughters of 
 Sir Anthony Buller, who resides near the spot, the 
 farmer was inexorable, and it there remains as a gate- 
 post to his field. 
 
 " I must be allowed to state that on the reverse 
 of the inscription may be seen G. C. It will add but 
 little to the presumption of my former conjectures if 
 I venture to suggest whether this may not stand for 
 Galba Csesare. Servius Sulpicius, the seventh of 
 the twelve Cgesars, was surnamed Galba, from the 
 smallness of his stature. The word signifies a mite 
 or maggot ; but, according to some, it implies, in the 
 language of Gaul, fatness, for which the founder of 
 the Sulpitian family Avas remarkable. Galba was 
 next succeeding emperor but one to Claudius, Avho 
 will be found mentioned in the following extract 
 fi'om Henry, vol. i. p. 260 : ' Cogidunus, who Avas 
 at that time (as his name imports) prince of the 
 Dobuni, recommended himself so effectually to the 
 favour of the Emperor Claudius, by his ready sub- 
 mission, and other means, that he Avas not only con- 
 tinued in the government of his OAvn territories, but 
 had some other states put imder his autlioritj. 
 This prince lived so long, and remained so steady a 
 friend and ally to the Romans, that his subjects, 
 being habituated to their obedience in his time, never 
 rcA^olted, nor stood in need of many forts or forces 
 to keep them in subjection.' Perhaps the reader
 
 XXI.] ANTIENT STONES AT TAVISTOCK. 373 
 
 will good-naturedly admit, and be thankful for, tlie 
 following lines of Sliakspeare by way of apology for 
 tliis whimsical digression : — 
 
 ' Figures pedantical, these summer flies 
 Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : 
 I do forswear them." 
 
 " My mind being not a little occupied Anth the 
 inscription I had seen at Buckland (not then even 
 surmising that there was another near it, namely, 
 the one last noticed), I ashed my father, who was 
 born and lived at Tavistock, if he had ever heard of 
 any inscribed stone in our immediate neighbourhood. 
 He said that, about twenty years ago, presentment 
 was made, at the Court Leet of the Duke of Bed- 
 ford, of a large stone forming part of the pavement 
 of West Street, as a nuisance ; it having become so 
 worn and slippery as to be dangerous to horses. As 
 his Grace's agent, therefore, he had ordered it to 
 be taken up. when, if his memory failed not, he 
 thought he had seen letters on the under part of it. 
 The stone, he added, had afterwards been placed as 
 a bridge over the mill-leat near Head weir. This 
 weir is about half a mile distant from Ta\-istock, and 
 crosses the river Tavy for the purpose of conveying 
 a stream of water, here called a leat, to the parish 
 
 mills. 
 
 "On visiting the spot, I found the stone. Its 
 
 smooth surface was still uppermost, and the bottom 
 
 of it so close to the stream, that I could only get my 
 
 hand under it, and on doing so, fancied that I felt 
 
 letters. On the strength of this I caused it to be 
 
 taken up, and found I had conjectured rightly. 
 
 The letters, fortunately, had been twice preserved j
 
 374 ANTIENT STONES AT TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 first;, fi'om the friction of wheels and the tread of 
 horses and passengers in the street ; and secondly, 
 from the slower but scarcely less certain erosion of 
 the passing waves. I resolved, therefore, to bring 
 it to a place of greater safety ; and on the 22d of 
 October, 1804, about a month after I first visited 
 the stone at Buckland, had it removed, and placed 
 by the side of the arch, then within the grounds of 
 the Abbey-house, and noAV within the precincts of the 
 churchyard. This I the more particidarly notice, 
 as an engraving of it in this situation, has, I believe, 
 appeared in a little topographical work called the 
 'Antiquarian Cabinet.' 
 
 " On my quitting the Abbey-house for the "Vi- 
 carage, I brought it hither and placed it where now 
 it stands, near the ch'amng-room window. Some of 
 my friends, perhaps flunking it out of place, com- 
 pared it to a sentinel. In some degree to ob\datc 
 this, and to hide a defect not much in character Avith 
 a soldier, namely, what might be called a hunch 
 back (for the Avheels, I suppose, had worn it into this 
 shape), I planted at its foot some Irish ivy. Tliis 
 has so wonderfully increased, particularly at the top, 
 that, on cutting part of it away in front, to render 
 the inscription legible, it has assumed, curiously 
 enough, the form of a sentry box. I felt loth, I 
 confess, to cut away more of the ivy than was abso- 
 lutely necessary for this purpose, from the circum- 
 stance that, for many years, a couple of blackbirds 
 have built their nest there, or frequented it ; which 
 is the more remarkable from their general shyness, 
 and, seemingly at least, their aversion to the haunts 
 of men.
 
 XXI.] 
 
 INSCRIPTION ON STONE. 
 
 375 
 
 " The inscription, as the first already noticed, con- 
 tains the names of father and son ; viz., Nepraniis, 
 the son of Condevus. Some, perhaps, may be in- 
 chned to read Con6evus, as the fourth letter is more 
 like our small b than D. The rudeness of the 
 sculpture, however, may account for this. And indeed 
 Mr. Samuel Lysons, in his ' History of Devonshire,' 
 has not hesitated, on a wood-cut, to represent it 
 completely formed as the latter. I am not much 
 surprised at this inaccuracy, from the hasty sketch he 
 made, in my presence, when I first directed his at- 
 tention to the stone in question several years ago ;
 
 376 INSCRIBED STONES. [lET. 
 
 and only mention it now that the reading proposed 
 may be supported by the opinion of so great an 
 antiquary. AVith respect to Conde, in Latin Con- 
 date (and to -which perhaps we may trace Condevus), 
 there are several towns of this name in France. It 
 is an appellation in ant lent geography, probably 
 of Celtic origin, bearing relation to the idea of con- 
 fluent, and means a place built on the spot where two 
 rivers meet. There was a Homan station, also, of 
 the name of Condate, in this island, as appears from 
 the second iter of Antoninus*. The person here 
 commemorated, therefore, may have taken his name 
 from one of these towns, as docs one of the branches 
 of the Bourbon family in France. At any rate the 
 name is of British or Celtic origin. 
 
 " Of the stones Avhicli I now propose to notice, my 
 earliest remembrance is, that when I was a boy they 
 were lying in a little plot of garden-ground over the 
 gateway of the Abbey commonly known by the name 
 of Betsy Grimbal's Tower. I thence, several years 
 ago, removed and placed them as on a kind of shrine 
 in front of the arch before mentioned. 
 
 " On exchanging my residence for the vicarage, I 
 restored them pretty nearly to their former situation, 
 by placing them beneath instead of on the top of the 
 gateway. They Avere there more accessible, and, as 
 I imagined, equally safe. In this respect, however, 
 I was unfortvmatcly mistaken : for, two or three 
 years since, on going to show them to a friend, the 
 stone marked 2 was no where to be found. I was the 
 more provoked at the loss, as I am not Anthout sus- 
 picion that I myself, though altogether unintention- 
 ally, was in some degree accessary to the theft : for, 
 * Rees's Cycle, and Henry's Hist.
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONES. 377 
 
 only a few weeks before, having- but just mounted my 
 horse, it shied at the noise or motion of a mason who 
 was working near the gate, and I sent back my ser- 
 vant to tell him that it was a very improper place for 
 him thus to be cuttino-astone, and beo-cred he would 
 remove it. I have reason to think that it was the 
 very stone in question, and that he had no other 
 view in pmdoining it than to convert it into a pig's 
 trough. 
 
 "The other stone I have placed, for shelter as well 
 as security, beneath the trellised-shed before the 
 door of my house. I am not without suspicion, 
 however, that not only masons but antiquaries 
 have little fear either of lares or penates ; though 
 at the feet of the former there should be the fijjure 
 of a dog barking (with the words 'cave canem'), 
 and though the latter be placed in the inmost and 
 most secret parts of the house. Indeed it may be 
 apprehended that too many might be tempted to 
 steal even the household gods themselves. 
 
 " Whether these stones were but parts of one and 
 the same, it is difficult to determine. If they were, 
 it is probable that there existed an intermediate 
 portion. Certain it is that they were of the same 
 description of freestone, were of the same thickness, 
 and had upon them letters of precisely the same 
 form and Avorkmanship. By no greater stretch of 
 imagination than antiquaries are sometimes known 
 to indulge in, and perhaps Avith not much greater 
 credulity than they frequently possess, one if not both 
 these stones might plausibly enough be considered 
 as commemorative of Alfred the Great. There are 
 parts of two words, one immediatclv below the other, 
 the former ending in fridus, the other in mis. ]May
 
 378 
 
 INSCRIBED STONES. 
 
 [let. 
 
 tlicy not, therefore, be Alfridus Magnus ? The 
 orthography, at least in early thnes, was far from 
 being settled. 'Anglo-Saxon writers, and among 
 these the Idng himself, commonly AVTite his name 
 Alfred, and this orthography is frequently followed 
 on ancient coins : in some instances, however, as on 
 a coin in the British Museum, the name is ^v^itten 
 Aelfred : in other WTiters, and indeed on some 
 coins too, we find Elfred *.' Nay, it was not only 
 written Alfredus but also Aluredus f . But this 
 respects only the beginning of the Avord. We may 
 naturally infer, however, that there was some degree 
 of uncertainty in regard to the termination also. In 
 Smith, ' De Eepublica Anglorum,' we find our Alfred, 
 the son of Ethelwolfe, written Alfredus ; but Alfred, 
 the son of Oswy, he spells Alfridus ; whilst Rapin 
 and Hume call them both Alfred. 
 
 [FR1DV5|ITVSEST 
 
 "A pretty strong objection, however, to this 
 hypothesis is, that Alfred died a. d. 901 ; and the 
 Abbey was not begun till 961 ! I might say it 
 
 Penny Cyclopaedia. 
 
 t Ainswortli. &c.
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONES. 379 
 
 was his cenotaph, or that it was removed from the 
 place of his sepulture. However much disposed the 
 monks might be to avail themselves of his name, 
 either as a king on earth or as a saint in heaven, the 
 expression situs est hie is too strong for a cenotaph, 
 and would accord better with his reHcs, which we 
 might easier believe they would pretend to have, 
 rather than that they carried away his gravestone. 
 It is not a little remarkable, however, that his re- 
 mains were transported more than once from the 
 place of their original interment. ' His body,' says 
 Eapin, ''was buried first at Winchester, next re- 
 moved into the church of the Neiv Monastery ; and 
 lastly, his body, monument, church and monastery 
 were all removed (about two hundred years after) 
 without the north gate of the city, since called the 
 Hide.' Nor indeed is it perhaps less remarkable 
 that, conditor a, on the other stone, may mean con- 
 ditor Anglia3 legum, as well as conditor Abbatise. 
 ' And Alfred,' says Blackstone *, ' is generally 
 styled by the same historians the legiim Anglicanarum 
 conditor, as Edward the Confessor is the restitutor.' 
 And possibly, after all, it will be considered not 
 the least remarkable of these coincidences that there 
 were no less than three monks of AVinchester who 
 became Abbots of Tavistock; namely, Livingus, 
 who died in 103S ; Aldred, his successor, who died in 
 1069; and Phihp Trcntheful, who was confirmed as 
 Abbot in 1259. Is it altogether improbable that one 
 of these, from the veneration he may naturally be 
 supposed to feel for the name of Alfred, might have 
 placed this memorial of him in a spot to which he 
 had been himself translated, when he remembered 
 
 * Vol. i., p. 6G.
 
 380 INSCRIBED STONES. [lET. 
 
 that the removal of the very remains of this great 
 monarch had taken place either for their greater 
 safety or greater honour ? Or the mere estimation 
 in wliich he was held by the fraternity at large, which 
 is sufficiently proved by his translation of ' Boethius 
 de Consolatione Philosophise' being printed at their 
 -press, may account for their pretending to possess 
 either his grave-stone or his relics, though each 
 might be equally suppositious*. 
 
 "The monastery called the 'Newen Mynstre,' 
 and afterwards Hyde Abbey, which was founded by 
 Alfred, and completed by his son Edward, being in 
 an unhealthy and inconvenient situation, 'a new 
 and magnificent church and monastery were erected 
 just without the north Avail of the city, on the spot 
 called Hyde-meadow, to which the monks removed 
 in 1110, carrying with them the remains of several 
 illustrious personages who had been buried in the 
 former Abbey, among which were those of Alfred 
 himself, and some of his descendants. The church 
 and monastery were soon afterwards demolished, and 
 ■even the tombs of Alfred, and other eminent persons, 
 were despoiled. Precisely on the space occupied 
 by the Abbey-church, was some time ago erected a 
 bridewell, or house of correction, on the plan of the 
 benevolent Howard.' And ' between fifty and sixty 
 
 * I probably was led into this error of confounding together two 
 separate works, from having somt;whore seen it noticed that an Anglo- 
 Saxon grammar was published here ; and knowing that Alfred had 
 translated Boethius into Anglo-Saxon. This translation, however 
 was not printed, I believe, till 1G98, at Oxford. But perhajis I may- 
 be indulged in the conjecture that the monks possessed this v/ork in 
 MS,, and might attach such value to a more recent version as to com- 
 mit it to the press, from knowing that the original had previously been 
 translated by so renowned a prince.
 
 XXI.] INSCRIBED STONES. 381 
 
 years ago (I extract this from from Rees's Cyclo- 
 pscdia), among the remains of the buildings, was 
 fovmd a stone with this inscription in Saxon cha- 
 racters, "Alfred Rex DCCCLXXXI." ' 
 
 " This date is twenty years before his death. It 
 might otherwise have been taken for his gravestone. 
 Some mystery we find even here is connected with 
 the memory of this illustrious personage. 
 
 '' With respect to the stone marked No. 2 (if it 
 be not connected with the preceding), many con- 
 jectures present themselves ; but I shall offer only 
 two, as requiring the least addition ; namely, 
 Indolcm .... 
 Conditor (Abbatiae) 
 Preestet amoenam : 
 which we may suppose a prayer that the founder 
 (for O Thou that hear est prayer is not, be it remem- 
 bered, confined by Romanists to God) might con- 
 tinue his favorable disposition to the Abbe}- ; or, if 
 we imagine the sentence to refer to the person to 
 whose memory the stone was inscribed, we may com- 
 plete the inscription in some such form as the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 (Oramus ut ille) 
 Indolem (eandem quam) 
 Conditor (abbatise nostrse) 
 Prsestet. Amen. Amen. 
 " Let us pray that he may show the same disposi- 
 tion as did the founder of our Abbe3^ Amen. 
 Amen." 
 
 " There can be no doubt, however, that the 
 lateral sentence may be thus completed — (In spc 
 resurge) ndi sub jacet intus. And from the word
 
 382 INSCRIBED STONES. [lET. 
 
 intus we may at once conclude that the stone formed 
 the cover of the stone coffin or sarcophagus. 
 
 iilf^DOLE> 
 
 1^ 
 
 ||COMDITOR/^ 
 P PRESIETAM- NW 
 
 " Some years since, previous to placing the painted 
 glass in the window of his dining-room at Endsleigh, 
 the Duke of Bedford applied to me for a sketch of 
 the arms of the Abbey of Tavistock ; and I ventured 
 to emblazon them from the description contained in 
 Prince's ' Worthies of Devon.' 
 
 " I find, however, from a fragment of Beer stone 
 sent to me in September, 1833, by Mr. Rundle, 
 builder, Avho met with it among other pieces of 
 sculpture in taking down part of the brewery here, 
 that there is a want of correctness, not only in my- 
 self, but even in Prince. He describes the arms as 
 * Gules, two crosiers saltireways between two mart- 
 lets, or, in a chief argent three mullets sable.'
 
 XXI J 
 
 INSCRIBED STONES. 
 
 383 
 
 " I instantly recognized tlie mullets, but I was at 
 a loss respecting the crosier ; the martlets, also, must 
 have been four instead of two. I was satisfied, how- 
 ever, that it is a fragment of the arms of the 
 Abbey when I found crosiers thus described in Fos- 
 broke's 'Encyclopaedia of Antiquities.' 'They were 
 sometimes barely curled, sometimes hke beadles' 
 staves, — more like maces than crosiers.' 
 
 " From two hands that still remain at the top and 
 side, it is evident that the shield was supported by 
 two angels, one on the dexter, and the other on the 
 sinister side. 
 
 " On the 30th October, 1833, Mr. Rimdle sent me 
 also another stone, with an inscription in black letter 
 painted on a white fillet, being a kind of upper 
 border to the same, the ground of which was ver- 
 miUon. The words are Rerjina cell (cseh) lefare 
 
 (Isetare) a probably Alleluia. Rejoice, O Queen 
 
 of heaven — Hallelujah. Of course they are ad- 
 dressed to the Virgin Mary, and possibly were 
 placed on her altar. 
 
 " In November, 1833, Mr. Rundlc also sent me 
 two other stones. One seemed to be a kind of
 
 384 INSCRIBED STONES. [lET. 
 
 plinth, on which, in red characters, was painted what 
 I take to be the contraction of Jesu, * which is fol- 
 lowed by fill del miserere . . . o . . . probably nosfrl. 
 The other was the capital of a coknnn or pilaster, 
 having at the top gilt quatrefoils, whilst at the bottom 
 are bunches of grapes painted red. Between them 
 is the inscription (as far as I am able to decipher it) 
 
 Orate pro divo E The latter word, perhaps, 
 
 might have been Eustachio, to whom the parish 
 church was dedicated ; so that it is difficult to de- 
 cide whether these sculptured remains were taken 
 from the conventual or the parochial church, pos- 
 sibly from both, when the former was pidled down 
 and the latter freed from its idolatries (for there 
 stood in it the altar of St. Eustace) at the time of 
 the Ivcformation. It is probable that the}- were not 
 removed for preservation, but used, when wanted, 
 as mere materials for other buildings. 
 
 " Thus, my dearest Eliza, have I endeavoured to 
 fiiliil my promise of contributing towards your work 
 b}^ giving some account of the inscribed stones, &c., 
 connected with this neighbourhood, and remain, 
 " Your faithful and affectionate husband, 
 
 "E. A. Bray." 
 
 Before I make up this packet for Keswick I shall 
 add the following extracts from Mr. Bray's Journal 
 respecting an 
 
 * I am indebted to Mr. Kompu for the information that tf)U stands 
 for Jesu : an adoption of the h for the great eta. " Jesus is written 
 I. II. S. (in antient JWSS.) which is the Greek m2, or ir,;, an ab- 
 breviation of Iwoui" — Caslet/s Catalogue of the Royal Library, 
 pref., p. xxiii.
 
 XXI.] OVER TOR. 385 
 
 EXCURSION ON DARTMOOR TO OVER TOR. 
 
 " Stli August, 1832, — Having seen but the basins 
 on Pew Tor, and from their elevation being unable to 
 reach them, Mrs. Bray expressed a wish to wash her 
 hands in one of those that were the most accessible 
 on Dartmoor. The basin called Mistor pan being 
 the largest, and, if I recollected rightly, not difficult 
 of access, we got out of the carriage, near the Merri- 
 vale circles, with the intention of paying it a visit. 
 But it was at no small distance, with a considerable 
 ascent all the way, principally amid rocks, the 
 weather was extremely warm, and my companion 
 very weak from illness. We gave up, therefore, our 
 original design, and resolved to content ourselves 
 with exploring a neighbouring tor, which we after- 
 wards learnt was called Over Tor. I was the more 
 induced to do so from never having visited it 
 before ; and probably for the same reason that, had 
 it not been for what I have above stated, we should 
 not have visited it now ; namely, because it seemed 
 but insignificant in itself, and because my mind was 
 occupied with a far more important undertaking, 
 that of reaching Mistor. 
 
 "But Over Tor, though of no great magnitude, 
 most amply repaid us for the visit. Probably from not 
 being so elevated, and therefore less exposed to ' the 
 pelting of the pitiless storm,' it is less bare and de- 
 nuded than most others. Indeed it is almost covered 
 with lichen and pendant moss : so much so, that it 
 forcibl}' reminded me of grotto-work ; to which the 
 cavities, that are here more numerous than usual, 
 not a little contributed. Even some of the incum- 
 bent strata, possibly from being thin, and Httle else 
 
 VOL. I, s
 
 386 OVER TOR. [let. 
 
 than laminae, when I struck them with my umbrella 
 sounded hollow. A flower, also, in the shape of a 
 white pointed star, glittered amid the dark verdure of 
 the moss, and might well be compared to the spark- 
 lino- shells with which these artificial structures are 
 generally decorated. That art, too, had been used 
 even here, is evident ; for Mrs. Bray had the pleasure 
 of herself discovering a rock-basin. And as we have 
 not only the classic, or at least far-fetched authority 
 of Venus's Looking-glass, but the nearer one of 
 Lady Lopez's hat, (being no other than the covering 
 of an old lime-kiln,) I may be allowed, perhaps, to 
 designate this as Mrs. Bray's wash-hand basin. It 
 had water in it at the time ; and though it was not 
 enough for the purpose above stated, it was enough 
 to enable us, in imitation of the ceremony to which, 
 probably, it was formerly applied, to sprinkle each 
 other. The basin, I should think, is about a foot in 
 diameter at the bottom *. The exterior brim stands 
 boldly prominent, thin, and somewhat curved (at 
 least on its upper surface) like the cup of a convol- 
 \ailus. Standing, or, perhaps, seated beside it, the 
 Druid might scatter his lustrations on his votaries 
 below; whether they were the multitude generally 
 at the base of the rock, or such select few as might 
 be admitted nearer for initiation on a kind of natural 
 platform, about five feet below, composed of the 
 rock itself. 
 
 "Mrs. Bray was fortunate also in making two other 
 discoveries, namely, a fallen rock on which were two 
 basins ; and a fallen tolmcn. I already have alluded 
 
 * I subsequently found it by admeasurement fourteen inches; and 
 one foot and a half above.
 
 XXI.] OVER TOR. 387 
 
 to some young men, who, on one of them coming of 
 age, or rather on the expiration of liis apprenticeship, 
 which was probably simultaneous, celebrated this 
 most important era by throwing down some rocks 
 on Dartmoor. I never could learn the exact spot, 
 but had reason to imagine that it was on or near 
 Mistor. I now am satisfied that it could be no other 
 than Over Tor ; and except, perhaps, the over- 
 throw of the Cromlech at the Cursus, they did no 
 further mischief. This no doubt was enough, and 
 more than enough ; and well would they have de- 
 served the same sentence, could it have been put in 
 execution, that Avas passed on, and undergone, by 
 that Lieutenant in the Navy who threw down the 
 Logan rock in Cornwall, and was forced to put it 
 up again. Were it not for this latter circumstance, 
 I should hardly have attributed the xiolence so 
 visible on this tor to human agency, but to an 
 earthquake or some con\-ulsion of nature. But the 
 power of the wedge, though perhaps the simplest, 
 is almost incalculable. The rock itself, I conceive, 
 afforded materials for its own destruction. 
 
 "The basins are generally to be found on the 
 upper lamina ; betAveen which and the next a stone 
 may easily be inserted, and, being struck and forced 
 inward by another, and that by a third, one end of 
 this thin mass is elevated, till, by a corresponding 
 depression, the other end preponderates, and the 
 summit of this lofty structure which had defied a 
 thousand storms not only falls below, but carries 
 ruin and destruction far around. Indeed, I can- 
 not but think that the very name of Over Tor is 
 awing to this overthrow of the rocks, which, whether
 
 388 OVER TOR. [let. 
 
 natural or artificial, must strike the most inattentive 
 observer. At any rate the etymology is not so far- 
 fetched as St. Mary Overy, a name given to a church 
 in Southwark, as I was informed by a learned anti- 
 quary, from the circumstance that near it people 
 were accustomed to go over the ferry to the city. 
 Certain it is that you can trace this cataract of rocks, 
 as you might fancy a cataract of water suddenly 
 arrested and fixed by ice. 
 
 " The rock on wliich this elevated pile was poised 
 is still as horizontal as the base itself beneath it. 
 The second rock has slid from it, but, finding a point 
 d'appui on a kind of platform which is itself of con- 
 siderable elevation, remains only in an oblique 
 position. The third rock is completely pendant 
 from the platform, but is prevented falling by the 
 fourth, that has found a base on some rocks beloAV, 
 and thus completes this accidental bridge : for a 
 chasm of no small dimensions is formed by it, and 
 an ox we saw had retired to it for shade and shelter. 
 The fifth, on which are the basins, is perpendicular. 
 Contiguous to this, and thrown, I think, out of their 
 position by its falling against them, are two rocks, 
 which we ventured to consider were tolmens. They 
 rest on a rock whose face is as smooth and perpen- 
 dicular as a wall, thirteen feet and a half in length, 
 and seven feet in height. There seems to have been 
 a semicircular inclosure of stones in front of it; 
 and, from the vipper edge of this wall, one of the 
 two rocks projects three feet and a half, like the 
 sounding-board of a pulpit. Three or four stones, 
 somewhat similar to that which supports the tolmen 
 at Staple Tor, are lying under them, and were
 
 XXI.] RABBIT WARRENS. 389 
 
 probably applied to that purpose here. Were this 
 the case, there is reason to conclude that these tol- 
 mens, which seem to have been parallel, if not rest- 
 ing against one another, were overthrown by the 
 shock occasioned by the fall of the rock on wliich are 
 the basins; for it seems to have struck them near 
 their point of conjunction, and, causing them to open 
 to the right and left, deranged their supports and 
 destroyed their equilibrium. The fallen basins are 
 of an oblong shape, two feet by one, and about four 
 inches and a half deep. The view from behind tliis 
 tor (itself forming the foreground, rich in colour 
 and every possible variety of outline) is truly mag- 
 nificent. Its more elevated points afford a bold 
 contrast both in shape and shadow to the faint and 
 sweeping undulations of the distant horizon. Ply- 
 mouth Sound, Mount Edgecombe and Hamoaze 
 are conspicuoiis and attractive objects. Walkhamp- 
 ton tower (or possibly that of Sampford Spiney) 
 glitters in the view, whilst the bold mass of Vixen 
 Tor, and the crowned summit of Pew Tor beyond 
 it, form a broad and sombre background for Mcrri- 
 vale bridge, and the sparkling river Walkham that 
 winds beneath. 
 
 "I here may mention that on approaching this 
 tor Ave found several mounds of earth, from about 
 five and twenty to thirty paces in circumference. 
 They are not in the usual shape of barrows, being 
 of an oblong square, whilst the latter are generally 
 round or oval. From their proximity to the circles, 
 the cursus, and the tor, which, from its basins, &c., 
 we have thus connected Avith Druidism, one might 
 be tempted to imagine that these were places of 
 
 s3
 
 390 SQUAfel'ife THE CIRCLE. [lET. 
 
 sepulture for persons of that order ; but on my af- 
 terwards asking Hannaford, the farmer, if he knew 
 anything about them, he said they were rabbits' bur- 
 rows ; and I am indined to think he is perfectly right. 
 "But should some antiquary be hereafter taken 
 in, and describe the labours of Watts (for such was 
 the name, I was told, of the builder of these warrens) 
 as those of the Celts or Druids, it may be allowed 
 to excite a smile but not a sneer. There are also 
 heaps of stones, evidently the work of art, though now 
 almost covered with moss. The stones are mostly 
 placed edgeways, forming a kind of low flat arch, 
 with hollows and interstices beneath. Indeed, they 
 may be said to be built rather than thro^A^i together. 
 These, too, were probably applied to the purpose 
 above stated, namely a shelter for rabbits. But 
 wdiere there are so many indisputable vestiges of the 
 Druids, it is little to be wondered at that an anti- 
 quary should be thinking more of them than of a 
 warren. Besides, many of the barrows, kahns, kist- 
 vaens, &c., of which traces still remain near the 
 cursus, are in themselves of far less magnitude and 
 importance. Watts, one would think, took an anti- 
 cipated delight in puzzling the antiquaries. We 
 might say of liim in the words of Horace, Dlruit, edi- 
 ficat (he pulls do^\^l, he builds up) ; but, instead of 
 continuing the quotation, mutat quad rata rofundis 
 (he changes square things into round), we might re- 
 verse it, and say, that he has achieved yet greater 
 labours, namely, succeeded in squaring the circle : 
 for, to make an inclosure near his cottage, of whicli 
 the foundation still remains, he has converted what 
 was probably a circle into an oblong square.
 
 XXI.] B.VIR-DOWN. 391 
 
 THE WALKHAM*. 
 Close to Merrivale bridge, I was shocked (for I can 
 use no milder expression) to see in the bed of this 
 truly romantic river some of the largest rocks split 
 with wedges, and, instead of presenting their usual 
 flowino; outline and their dark natural eoloiu- enriched 
 %vith moss and lichen, obtruding themselves on the 
 eye, not only bare but in straight and angular de- 
 formity. It is to be hoped, however, that they Avill 
 soon be removed. I am sorry to observe that they 
 have begun to take stones for the roads from the 
 bed of our own beautiful Tavy. But such is the 
 march of intellect and improvement. As a farther 
 proof of its progressing even on the moor, I soon 
 afterwards remarked a hand-bill pasted on one of 
 the rocks near the side of the road. I could not 
 help thinking that my inscriptions were more in 
 character. But even these, I found, when I reached 
 Bair-down, were beginning to be illegible. Indeed, 
 when looking from the bridge for the name of 
 a poet to which I had consecrated one of the rocks 
 beneath, we could only see some faint traces of the 
 letters when the sun shone out. It was about two 
 o'clock, and perhaps (from the spot where we stood) 
 it might be wholly undistinguishable at any other 
 hour. This vanishing and reappearing excited some 
 desrree of interest, and reminded me of the effect of 
 the Diorama. The loudest roar that then ascended 
 from the Cowsick was occasioned by the rush of 
 water over the rock that crosses the river, which I 
 
 * In our excursion of this day, I observed that among the various 
 forms that \'ixen Tor assumes, this lofty mass of rock has one which 
 I have omitted when elsewhere describing them ; but which now 
 forcibly impressed itself on my fanc}' ; uamel}-, that of a lion sucking 
 his paw.
 
 392 KISTVAEN ON [lET. 
 
 learnt fi'om Hannaford is fifty-nine feet in length — 
 it is perfectly straight : this they once talked of con- 
 verting into an obelisk. 
 
 "In the course of our journey hither, our atten- 
 tion had been attracted to some objects in the hori- 
 zon which my companion said she could almost fancy 
 were mo\'iug tors. They certainly appeared large 
 objects and made but slow progi*ess. I knew there 
 was no road in that direction, yet they continued to 
 follow one another in a line. At length they turned, 
 and as they approached nearer to us, I could dis- 
 tinguish that they were not only dark from rising in 
 contrast with the sky, but were black in themselves ; 
 and I almost could imagine they were a funeral pro- 
 cession ; and, of course, that of some giant who was 
 to lay his bones beneath some mighty kau-n. But, 
 at times, their tottering, nay, oscillating motion, like 
 that of ships in a storm, did not exactly correspond 
 with the solemn and steady pace observed on such 
 occasions. And at last I found they were carts 
 piled high with peat, working their way through the 
 rocks, now turning and rolling to the right, and now 
 to the left, under the guidance, now in front, now in 
 rear, and now on either side, of men who exerted 
 almost gigantic strength in preventing them from 
 falling." 
 
 EXCURSION ON DARTMOOR. KISTVAEN, &c., ON BAIR- 
 DOWN, nth Sept. 1832. 
 
 " About two or three minutes walk from the 
 house, in a north-east direction, are the remains of 
 a kistvaen which we had long proposed to open. 
 Three stones, about six or eight inches high, form- 
 ing three sides of an oblong square, were all that
 
 XXI.] B AIR-DOWN, 393 
 
 was -v-isible. On remonns: some turf and rushes. We 
 found a rough pavement around them to the extent 
 of three or four feet. The stone at the western end 
 (for tliey face pretty nearly the cardinal points) is 
 two feet eight inches long. The northern stone is 
 three feet ten inches ; the southern about the same 
 dimensions, and the eastern stone is wanting. 
 
 "We opened the centre, about two feet and a 
 half; and there came to the natural substratum, a 
 hard gravel. The stones of inclosure reached to the 
 same depth. Hannaford, who is somewhat acquainted 
 with what he calls these caves, in procuring stones for 
 walls, &c., was of opinion that it had been opened 
 before, and that the stone at the east, together A\ith 
 the covering stone, had been removed for similar 
 purposes. I had reason afterwai'ds fully to agree 
 with liim, for we found nothing amid the peat earth 
 that filled the cavity but a small fi-agment of earth- 
 enware. It was of the very coarsest texture, some- 
 what smooth on one side, and extremely rough on the 
 other. The surfaces were reddish, but the centre 
 of a deep brown. It probably was the only remain- 
 ing portion of an urn that had been broken and taken 
 away with its contents, whatever they might be, by 
 some previous and more fortunate explorer ; though 
 it is Hkely enough that the discovery gratified no 
 other feeling than that of mere curiosity. An anti- 
 quary, perhaps, had he been present, might have 
 decided, I mil not say with what certainty, whether 
 it was or was not the sepulchre of some chieftain or 
 arch-Druid on the hill of Bards. About a quarter 
 of a mile distant, immediately outside the present 
 boundary of Bair-down, (for my father gave it up 
 for the purpose, I beUeve, of building a chapel which
 
 394 BAIR-DOWN MAN. [lET. XXI. 
 
 was never erected,) and nearly opposite the road that 
 leads to Plymouth, I was informed by Hannaford 
 that a person named John Kerton, among what he 
 called 'burroughs and buildings,' found some hu- 
 man bones ; and that he told him he could not rest 
 till he buried them again. 
 
 " I learnt from the same authority, having pre- 
 viously requested him to measure it, that the erect 
 stone or obelisk, called Bair-do-svn Man, (probably 
 corrupted from men, a stone,) is eleven feet high, and 
 eight feet round." 
 
 The length of these extracts from Mr. Bray's 
 Journal prevents my at present adding more than 
 that 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Very sincerely and faithfully yours, 
 Anna Eliza Bray. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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 vzi^- 
 
 A DESCRIPTION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PART OF DEVONSHIRE 
 
 BORDERING ON 
 
 THE TAMAR AND THE TAVY ; 
 
 ITS 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY, 
 
 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, SUPERSTITIONS, SCENERY, ANTIQUITIES, 
 
 BJOGRAPHY OF EMINENT PERSONS, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 IN A SERIES OV LETTERS TO 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 BY MRS. BRAY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'travels IN NORMANDY,' ' FITZ OF FITZ-FORU,' ' THE 
 TALBA,' ' DE FOIX,' ETC. 
 
 " I own tlie power 
 Of local sympathy that o'er the fair 
 Throws more divine allurement, and o'er all 
 The great more Kraiideur, and my kindling muse. 
 Fired by the universal passion, pours 
 Haply a partial lay." 
 
 Carrinoton's Dartmoor. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES—VOL. III. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN. MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, 
 
 MDCCCXXXVI.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by William Clowes and Sons, 
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 VOLUME THE THIRD. 
 
 Letter XXXII. 
 Letter XXXIII. 
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 Letter XXXVII, 
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 Letter XXXIX. 
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 LETTERS TO THE LAUREATE, 
 
 <^c. Sfc. 
 
 LETTER XXXTI. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents.— The Walla Brook : a stream celebrated by Browne the 
 poet — Old oaks destroyed — Few materials for a life of Browne — 
 His death ; little noticed at the time of its occurrence — Browne 
 born at Tavistock — His family — His early life — Goes to Oxford — 
 The influence of local scenery on the mind of a poet — Browne re- 
 moves to the Inner Temple — Panegyrics the fashion of his day — 
 First part of Britannia's Pastorals — Selden, Drayton, Glanville, &c., 
 friends of the poet — He produces his poem of the Shepherd's Pipe 
 — The second part of Britannia's Pastorals published — With what 
 success he studied the law not certainlj' known — Returns to Exeter 
 College, Oxford — Appointed tutor to Robert Dormer, Earl of Car- 
 narvon — Browne takes his degree of Master of Arts — Clarendon's 
 character of the young Earl, who died in the battle of Newberry — 
 William Earl of Pembroke becomes the friend of the poet — The 
 generous character of the Earl — Browne purchases an estate — 
 Never marries — Little in his person — He dies — The place of his 
 burial unknown — His poem of Lydford Law — Extract from Chappie 
 — Judge Jeffries held sittings at Lydford — this judge did not give 
 rise to the saying of Lydford Law — The poet wrote the verses 
 whilst Sir Richard Grenville was governor of the Castle — Sir Eger- 
 ton Brydges printed certain poems of Browne at the Priory press — 
 Mr. Beloe's collection of poems addressed to Browne — The charac- 
 ter of a true poet — Britannia's Pastorals brought once again into 
 notice by Davis the bookseller in 1772 — The merits of Browne as a 
 poet — His Masque of Circe — His defects — His mention of the 
 conduit-pipes; probably suggested by the once famous conduits of 
 his native town — His episode of the Loves of the Walla and the 
 
 Tavy — This poem probably suggested by one of Ovid Extracts 
 
 from his works. 
 
 VOL. III. B
 
 2 WALLA BROOK. [lET. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, Febniari/ 5. 1833. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 There is a scene in this neio-hbourhood, si- 
 tuated about half a mile from Tavistock, that I 
 always visit with the greatest interest, not only for 
 the pleasing objects which are there found com- 
 bined, but from the poetical associations with which 
 they are connected. The scene I allude to is the 
 Walla Brook, a little stream of unpretending cha- 
 racter, that, over a rocky bed, comes murmuring doA^Ti 
 the gentle descent of some sloping grounds, and 
 unites itself with the Tavy nearly opposite to Row- 
 don woods. The Walla was. till very lately, over- 
 hung by some vestiges of oak trees so old and 
 decaying, that I never could look at them without 
 fancying that in the days of Browne the poet he 
 had often reclined under their picturesque branches 
 on the margin of the stream ; and there, perhaps, 
 emplovcd his imagination in composing the beau- 
 tiful episode he introduced in his ' Britannia's Pas- 
 torals,' called the • Loves of the Walla and the Tavy,' 
 But the old oaks are now gone ; somebody has 
 cut them down, most probably for fire-wood, since 
 as timber they could be of no value ; and there now 
 lies the stream, stripped of its overhanging branches, 
 and looks melancholy, and seems to murmur for the 
 loss of its old neighbours. 
 
 I conclude the person, whoever he might be, who 
 committed this act of .spoliation had never heard 
 of the poet, else he could never thus have laid low 
 the sylvan patriarchs so long the tenants of his 
 favoiu-itc brook. The scene, too, is spoiled for the 
 pencil, for the venerable appearance of these trees 
 contrasted finely with the playful, the light and
 
 XXXII.] BROWNE THE POET. 3 
 
 animated character of the river. Before, however, 
 saying anything- more about the Walla Brook I 
 shall pause to speak of the poet, who has given to it 
 an interest which no other riM.ilet, so humble in itself, 
 can claim. Such is the power of poetry ; it raises into 
 notice the most neglected things, and often places 
 the wreath of honour on the most lowly head. 
 
 There are very few materials for a life of 
 William Browne, and those few were principally 
 collected (most likely from tradition) by Prince, who 
 wrote the 'Worthies of Devon' more than a century 
 ago. That Browne died during the civil wars is 
 very probable ; and if we consider how much the 
 public mind was occupied with the eventful scenes 
 in which every man then bore a part, we can scarcely 
 wonder that a poet, who never lent his pen to the 
 popular feeling, passed out of life little noticed ; 
 that his memory was not considered sufficiently im- 
 portant to demand any record of his actions ; and 
 that his poems, which cherished and taught the 
 peaceful enjoyments of life and the tranquil beauties 
 of the country, should have sunk into neglect, 
 when the only books published or read, with any 
 chance of success, were such as fostered the worst 
 passions, anarchy and rebellion ; or the perpetual 
 disputations of sectaries, and the foulest libels on 
 the Church and the King. Men of worth, when 
 they have neither power nor opportunity to stir 
 actively in evil times, to support a good but falling 
 cause, are generally found in the obscurity of private 
 life, suffering in mind, in fortune, or in both ; and 
 Avhen they die less regret is shown for their loss, 
 since, in a time of intense public excitement, the 
 feelings are too much engrossed by the fate of a 
 
 b2
 
 4 LIFE OF BROWNE. [lET. 
 
 kingdom to turn vdih their wonted kindness on the 
 interests of individual benevolence and sympathy. 
 Indeed rebellion and revolution seem to harden the 
 heart, as well as to stir the fiercer passions ; how 
 else can we account for the ferocious and almost 
 unnatural crimes accompannng ci^-il war ? 
 
 That Browne, therefore, who certainly lived in 
 these times (as we learn by his own pen, and by 
 poems addi'essed to him by his friends), and died 
 long before the Restoration, should have left scarcely 
 any other memorial than what his own genius has 
 secured for him in his works, and that little should 
 be known about liim, can excite no wonder. The 
 prominent characters of his day were the eminent 
 in crime or in suffering. His name belongs not to 
 the former class of these, nor have we any authority 
 for saying he Avas n\unbered with the latter : it is, 
 therefore, only as a poet that enough of him is 
 known to be judged by posterity \vdth anything like 
 certainty ; though it speaks well for his character as 
 a man that many of the eminent and \-irtuous of his 
 time were found amongst his associates and friends. 
 Of this more hereafter. 
 
 William Browne, a poet contemporary with Shak- 
 speare and Spenser, was born in the town of Ta- 
 vistock about the year 1590. He was the son of 
 a private gentleman, whose family were of ancient 
 standing in the county of Devon, — Prince says, 
 most likely of the "knightly family of Broome, of 
 Brownes-Ilarsh near Great Torrington.' The uncle 
 of our poet was no doubt a brave man, and in all 
 probability followed the sea, as he was that favourite 
 friend of Sir Francis Drake called Brute Browne, 
 who was killed by the side of the great Admiral in
 
 XXXII.] LIFE OF BROWNE. 5 
 
 his own ship ofr Porto Rico, and whose death 
 Drake so emphatically declared he would not un- 
 bend his spirit by lamenting it till he had requited 
 the Spaniards for the deed. The family of Browne, 
 in the male line, became extinct before Prince ga- 
 thered the few remaining records concerning him; 
 and the estates which had so long been theirs in 
 this county, the worthy chronicler tells us, fell, 
 therefore, "among distaffs,"' — a mode of phraseology 
 he often uses to express the weaker sex, — though 
 some of the records of Devon would show that, in 
 moments of trial where honour and loyalty were at 
 stake, the distaffs were not in less worthy hands 
 than the swords. 
 
 Thomas Browne, the father, finding William much 
 addicted to books, very wisely determined to give 
 him a liberal education. He was therefore sent to 
 Oxford, and as his learning is spoken of prior to his 
 removal to the university, it is not unlikely he had 
 received the elements of classical knowledge at the 
 grammar school at Tavistock; and that the first 
 effusions of his infant muse were offered to the 
 Tavy, the river he celebrates with so much fondness, 
 and on whose banks, he more than once tells us in 
 his poems, he first drew breath. That Browne 
 should have attached himself to pastoral poetry was 
 probably the result of early associations, smce most 
 feeling minds retain a lasting regard for their early 
 local impressions, unless they are born in a popu- 
 lous city where man, more than natural scenery, 
 engages the attention of their opening years. But 
 it was the good fortune of Browne that he was born 
 in the vicinity of a beautiful country; in a town 
 venerable for its history and antiquity, and en-
 
 6 LIFE OF BROAVKE. [lET. 
 
 riclied Avith the then existing remains of monastic 
 times. Near the regions, too, of the vast and fear- 
 ful in the forest of Dartmoor, and the beautiful and 
 the wild in the rocks and woods of Morwel ; what 
 subjects must these have been to the infant genius 
 of a poet ! — where every ramble of his boyhood 
 presented objects such as were passed AA-ith indiffer- 
 ence by the common eye, but to a mind like his 
 could not fail to afford a full field for observation, 
 reflection, and inquiry. That such was the case, 
 and that he made himself familiarly acquainted with 
 the feathered denizens of his native woods; the 
 flowers and plants that grew on the margin of his 
 beloved stream ; and the trees that chequered it 
 witli light or shade as their branches Avaved above, 
 Ave learn from his own poems ; his lively descriptions 
 every where bear witness to it ; and the pastoral 
 chai-acter of many of his most excellent productions 
 show that his favourite theme was his best. 
 
 Subjects of this nature have so repeatedly been 
 chosen for poetry, that critics sometimes object to 
 their frequent recurrence ; but surely this is an 
 objection more nice than wise. The study of 
 creation is inexhaustible : and, when treated bv the 
 feeling mind, never wearies. So impressive are all 
 the A\orks of the Divine hand ; so greatly do the 
 circumstances of nature vary, whilst their general 
 character is the same ; that the eye of a poet, as he 
 looks abroad throughout the changing seasons of 
 the year, in the fruitfulness of summer showers, or 
 in the dreariness of winter days, continually finds 
 some object, however familiar, present itself to him 
 in a new aspect ; there is something before unob- 
 served, or unfelt : hence a fresh interest arises ; a
 
 XXXII.] LIFE OF BROWNE. -7 
 
 new train of ideas spring up, and he receives those 
 vivid impressions which render his compositions as 
 original as they are pleasing ; for all he does is in 
 strict imitation of nature ; like a skilful painter 
 who, feeling every grace of the Ijcautiful object that 
 lies before his view, transfers it with ease upon the 
 canvass, to which he gives an artificial life. Browne, 
 Prince tells us, was removed to Oxford about the 
 beginning: of the reiffn of James I. : he coidd not 
 then have been more than fifteen or sixteen years 
 old ; and as he made a rapid progress in his studies, 
 his diligence must have kept pace with his opportu- 
 nities and talents. At Oxford he cultivated his 
 fondness for the muses; and on removing to the 
 Inner Temple, to pursue the study of the law, he 
 did not neglect that which was, in all probabilit}^ 
 more congenial to his inclinations ; as we find that, 
 at the early age of twenty-three, he produced the 
 first part of his celebrated work, ' Britannia's Pas- 
 torals.' 
 
 In his days re\"iews, friendly or adverse, were 
 unknown : new works were not handed into the 
 world, like our Devonshire ores, in the mass, 
 stamped by royal authority to secure their reception. 
 But though reviews were yet unknown, panegyrics, 
 which preceded them, were not; and one author of 
 established name gave a friendly introduction to an 
 aspirant in the world of letters, by addressing him 
 in a copy of verses, or an adulatory sonnet, that was 
 prefixed to his book as a sanction of its merits. 
 Browne's folio was not wanting in these ; and it is 
 honourable both to him and to liis friends that it 
 should have been so, since it is a clear proof he had 
 not to encounter the heart-depressing feelings of 
 coldness or neglect : his claim to poetical genius was
 
 8 LIFE OF BROWNE. [lET. 
 
 admitted, fostered, and rewarded by that highest of 
 all rewards, the commendation of the wise and the 
 good. Nor can we think other than well of the pri- 
 vate character of the poet who, at so early a period, 
 had won the friendship of Selden, of Drayton, of his 
 fellow-townsman, the great and good Sir John 
 Glanville, of George Withers, and of many others 
 whose praise alone was fame. Amongst the wits, 
 too, who eiilogized Browne was numbered Ben 
 Jonson. In the year following the publication of 
 this folio, encouraged no doubt by the favourable 
 reception he had found with the learned and the 
 tasteful of his day, he produced the ' Shepherd's 
 Pipe,' in seven eclogues; a work that by some 
 writers has been considered the model after which 
 Milton wrote his ' Lycidas.' 
 
 His next publication was the second part of ' Bri- 
 tannia's Pastorals,' a work that established his repu- 
 tation, and increased the number of his literary and 
 noble friends. With what success he studied the 
 law does not appear, as he is never spoken of by his 
 contemporaries in the character of a laA\^'er ; and by 
 his attention having been so much directed to the 
 poetical Avorks he sent abroad, it is most likely he 
 did not follow his profession with much zeal, and 
 therefore Avitli little success. Certain it is that 
 neither law nor poetry were very profitable to him 
 in a worldly sense, as his fortune was fiu- from 
 ample ; and he finally abandoned the Inner Temple 
 and returned to Exeter College, Oxford, as tutor to 
 Robert Dormer, the young Earl of Carnarvon ; a 
 nobleman whose name is enrolled among the most 
 gallant and amiable of the cavaliers who fell in the 
 cause of their injured king. 
 
 Whilst engaged in directing the studies of his
 
 XXXII.] LIFE OF BROWNE. 9 
 
 pupil, BroA\Tie took his degree as Master of Arts in 
 a way which did him honour. Nor can we doubt 
 that he performed his duties as tutor in other than 
 the most praiseworthy manner ; and fostered all 
 those high and generous principles of loyalty and 
 courage in his pupil which none can better under- 
 stand than a poetical mind regulated by a love of 
 truth, and of that religion from whose source it 
 springs, and supplies all the branches of knowledge 
 which cultivate or form the moral character as 
 healthful streams do the earth, and bring forth its 
 richest fruits. How long Bro^^^le remained as tutor 
 to this young nobleman is not known, nor is there 
 any mention of his ha^^ng accompanied him on his 
 travels abroad — a thing, however, not impossible. 
 
 Clarendon gives a most lively sketch of Lord 
 Carnarvon's character. He speaks of his education 
 having been adorned and finished by travel in the 
 countries of Spain, France, and Italy ; and that he 
 had subsequently spent some time in Turke}^ and 
 the East. On his return home. Clarendon tells us 
 that the young earl followed with considerable zeal 
 the field sports of hawldng and hunting, the fa- 
 vourite exercises of the qualit}'' and gentry. But 
 the troubles commenced ; the king's standard was 
 set up in opposition to fanaticism and rebellion, and 
 the bravest and noblest in the land hastened to its 
 support. The Earl of Carnarvon was amongst 
 these ; he had a short but glorious career : in one 
 fatal battle Charles lost friends such as no after 
 time could replace, for Sunderland, Falkland, and 
 Carnarvon fell in Newberrv fioht ! Well, indeed, 
 might Clarendon exclaim, that "on that day king 
 and kingdom both were lost !" 
 
 b3
 
 10 LIFE OF BROWNE, [lET. 
 
 It was after Browne had qviitted the Earl of Car- 
 narvon, that he found a gracious patron and friend 
 in William Earl of Pembroke ; a loyalist to whose 
 character the immortal historian of the great rebel- 
 lion pa3s the most ample tribute. He speaks of 
 Pembroke as a nobleman of such severely just feel- 
 ings, that he would contra.ct a private friendship with 
 no man unless his pub he principles were like his own. 
 He describes him also as the generous patron of 
 men of learning and talent. Under such auspices 
 the fortunes of our poet improved ; he became an 
 inmate in the earl's family, and gained sufficient 
 by whatever employment had been appointed him 
 to purchase an estate. Where it was situated is 
 not known ; but who can doubt it was in his native 
 county of Devon, for which he expresses so strong 
 an attachment in all his works ? It does not ap- 
 pear that he was ever married. Wood says of his 
 person, that he had a little body, but with it a great 
 mind. Prince tells us that it was not known Avhen 
 or where he died ; " for I presume," says that bio- 
 grapher, "he was a diiferent person from him of 
 the same name who died at Ottery St. Mary, in the 
 county of Devon, in the year of our Lord 1645." 
 It is to the honour of Browne's memor}- that he was 
 a royalist. This circumstance in his character is 
 placed beyond all doubt, not merely by his friend- 
 ship Avith the Earl of Pembroke, who would have 
 no friends but sucli as felt as he did, but by Dray- 
 ton having addressed to him a poem, now printed 
 Avith his Avorks, on the ' Evil Times,' in which he 
 appeals to BroAvne as a friend who deplores them 
 ccjually Avith himself. 
 
 The few particulars here related are all that have
 
 xxxii.] Browne's works. 11 
 
 come down to iis respecting William Browne, our Ta- 
 vistock poet ; it now remains to mention successively 
 his works. Besides his ' Britannia's Pastorals,' and 
 the ' Shepherd's Pipe,' he wrote (though it was 
 never published +ill the j^ear 1772) ' a masque for 
 the gentlemen of the Inner Temple.' On the death 
 of Prince Henry, he produced an elegy, which pos- 
 sesses many conceits but no pathos. He wrote also 
 some minor pieces ; amongst them a humorous 
 poem, in which he alludes to the old saying of ' Lyd- 
 ford Law.' This he composed after a visit to Lydford 
 Castle ; an ancient fortress, situated qbout seven 
 miles from Tavistock. An imperfect copy of this 
 was first printed in Prince's * Worthies of Devon.' 
 Respecting this poem, Mr. Chappie (the editor of 
 Risdon) says — "I happen to be furnished vAih. a 
 true copy of the original very manuscript, by the 
 transcriber, late Mr. Hals', of Cornwall, own hand ; 
 wherein are three ichule stan::as which that of 
 Mr. Prince has not. — Mr. Hals acquaints us also 
 with the occasion of its having first been written. 
 'Mr. William Browne,' says he, ' a.d. 1644, coming 
 to Lydford Castle to visit his friend Lieut. Col. 
 James Hals (son of Sir Nicholas Hals, late of Fen- 
 tongellan, Cornwall, Kt.), then and there a prisoner 
 of war of the parliament party, under the custody 
 of Sir Richard Gren\ille, Kt., King Charles the 
 First's General in the West ; and the said Mr. 
 Browne (and his companions) having had a full 
 view of this town and Castle of Lydford, soon after 
 his return to Tavistock, sent Mr. Hals, under his 
 own MS. those now (viz., by Mr. Prince) printed 
 verses, with the MS. additions of verses 9, 10, 11, of 
 which ^Ir. Prince absolutely wanted knowledge.' "
 
 12 LYDFORD LAW. [lET. 
 
 I have been induced to give the above long and 
 quaint extract, because it serves to prove that the 
 old saying of Lydford Law, to express an arbitrary 
 procedure in judgment, Avas known in Browne's 
 days ; and could not therefore, as it is commonly 
 said, have had its origin at the time Judge Jeffries 
 held his sittings in the courts of Lydford Castle, for 
 Browne's poem absolutely begins with the following 
 allusion : — 
 
 '•' I oft' have heard of Ltjdford law, 
 How in the morn they hang and draw, 
 
 And sit in judgment after ; 
 At first I wondered at it much, 
 But since I find the matter such 
 
 As it deserves no laughter.' 
 
 Convinced by reading this that Judge Jeffries could 
 have had nothing to do with our old saying, I de- 
 termined to try if I could not trace out in the his- 
 tory of this part of the West some circumstance, 
 that was at least likely to give rise to it ; and I 
 think 1 have succeeded. However, you shall judge 
 if T am right or wrong in my conjectures. 
 
 Browne, be it borne in mind, wrote these verses 
 after his visit to his friend Col. Hals, then 8h- 
 Rkhard Grenvilles prisoner of war, in Lydford 
 Castle; and of Sir Eichard's conduct Avhilst go- 
 vernor of that castle, we have a very formidable 
 picture drawn by the pen of Clarendon. The com- 
 missioners of Devon applied to the prince (after- 
 wards Charles IL) petitioning that he would regu- 
 late "the exorbitant power of Sir Richard Gren\dlle, 
 who raised what money he pleased, and committed 
 what persons he pleased." The commissioners for 
 Cornwall likewise "presented a ver}' sharp com- 
 plaint against him, for the strange acts of tyranny
 
 XXXII.] SIR E. BRYDGES. 13 
 
 exercised by him." — " That he had" (amongst other 
 arbitrary deeds) " committed very many honest sub- 
 stantial men, and all the constables of the east part of 
 the county, to Lydford prison^'' (it was in the Castle) 
 " in Devon slure, for no offence, but to compel them 
 to ransom themselves for money." In another in- 
 stance he hanged " one Brabant, an attorney-at-law" 
 (he was employed by Grenville's wife in conducting 
 a suit against her husband for ill treatment), '• and 
 afterwards, before the council, said he did it because 
 the man was a spy." He was also charged with a 
 vexatious practice of caUing out the Posse Comitatus 
 on a sudden, merely to avail himself of the fine and 
 imprisonment of defaulters. One of the constables 
 he hanged up without trial ; and then stated he had 
 executed the man for negligence in his duty. Put- 
 ting together these acts^, I think we need look no 
 farther than the time of Sir Richard Grenville's 
 government in Lydford Castle, to find a very likely 
 origin for the saying of Lydford Law referred to in 
 the poem of Browne. Thus, then. Judge Jeffries — 
 whose ghost, according to a tradition of this place, 
 still visits the old court-room at Lydford, in the 
 shape of a black pig — stands acquitted on this 
 charge ; having assuredly quite enough to answer 
 for, without any additional matter. 
 
 You mentioned to me in a letter, and Mr. Bray 
 had also drawn my attention to the same thing, 
 that some years since Sir Egerton Brydges had 
 printed at the Priory press, and published a volume 
 of Browne's original poems, that had never before 
 been given to the world. This volume is now, I 
 beheve, very scarce; I have never had the good 
 fortune to see it, nor can I obtain a copy of it. It
 
 14 MR. BELOE. [let. 
 
 was spoken of by some WTiter in the ' Gentleman's 
 Magazine' a few years ago, as containing many 
 poems, principally lyric, equal, if not superior to 
 the 'Britannia's Pastorals.' 
 
 Mr. Beloc, the author of the ' Anecdotes of Lite- 
 rature,' possessed a curious copy in manuscript, of 
 a collection of complimentary poems addressed to 
 William Browne, by his bretliren of Exeter College, 
 Oxford. These, in addition to being curious as 
 compositions of that day, serve to show the high 
 degree of estimation and regard in which the poet 
 was held by his most intimate associates, — an un- 
 doubted evidence of his worth. Amongst the friends 
 who so eulogised him, we find Edward Kail, who 
 appears to have been one of the sons of the learned 
 bishop of that name. His verses are far beyond 
 the general run of complimentary poems ; they pos- 
 sess some elegance, and a happy turn of thought 
 and expression, that evince the writer himself must 
 have been no indifferent poet. Beloe's collection 
 was, excepting Sir E. Brydges', I beheve, the last 
 publication of any original matter connected with 
 Browne. 
 
 With a true poet, the world of Nature will ever 
 be his chief delight : with him nothing is viewed in 
 vain ; and all he acquires by study and observation, 
 he devotes to the highest purposes. Whatever is 
 glorious in the heavens, he sees with reference to 
 God; and his contemplations become essentially 
 religious : these inspire him with all noble thoughts ; 
 a generous contempt for riches ; for all seliish ends 
 are inconsistent with the fervour of his enthusiasm, 
 and the solemn aspirations of his mind. His genius 
 soars on a seraph's wing; and whatever is grand.
 
 XXXII.] A TRUE POFT. 15 
 
 whatever is fearful, the beautiful and the wild are 
 to him as familiar friends. Solitude Avith him is 
 " sweet society ; " and the view of Nature in her 
 serenest hour conveys to him lessons of virtue and 
 of peace. Every image he traces, every idea that 
 presents itself to his imagination becomes as a trea- 
 sure, whence he selects those varied illustrations 
 which add force to moral truth, and clothe religion 
 in a robe of purity and grace. The theatre of rising- 
 hills, the fountain of " many waters," " the gush" of 
 song as the light of day plays on mountain, path, 
 and wood, the bursting vegetation, and every open- 
 ing bud bathed in dew, to him are objects of holy 
 joy ; and he learns from them that wisdom which 
 delivers the soul from the thraldom of worldly cares, 
 and fears and passions ; whilst his affections become 
 fixed on Him in whom there is neither change nor 
 shadow of turning; the God of all creation is his 
 father ; heaven is his home, and eternity the measure 
 of his hopes. 
 
 Such is a true poet; and such were the sacred 
 poets of Jerusalem, ere they were led away captive 
 to sing "• the Lord's song in a strange land." Even 
 in these latter times we have had some gifted with 
 this sacred spirit of poesy, whose lainps have burnt 
 bright before the altar. But Ave haA'e also had others 
 who have made the music of harmonious verse a 
 snare to the ear, and a deeper snare to the soul, in 
 the pollutions they have conveyed to it by beguiling 
 the senses. But their verses deserA^e not the ho- 
 noured name of poetry, since they do not contain 
 its essence — truth ; the form may be there, yet the 
 spirit is Avanting ; for the muse Avill not rest on pol- 
 luted ground.
 
 16 MERITS OF BROWNE. [lET. 
 
 To return fi-om this digression. It is not my in- 
 tention to attempt any minute criticism of the works 
 of Wilham Browne ; a far more competent hand 
 than mine is required for the task. The writings 
 of our poet, though soon after his death they fell 
 into neglect, were once again brought into notice by 
 Mr. Davis the bookseller, in 1772. Posterity has 
 awarded to Bro\\aie those honours which are some- 
 times by envy combining with untoward circum- 
 stances denied to the lii-ing, but seldom to the 
 dead when they are truly deserved. Some few re- 
 marks I shall alone venture to offer, since an ac- 
 quaintance vnih the local scenes from which he drew 
 many of his lively pictures enable an admirer of liis 
 poetry more fully to appreciate the merit of his 
 descriptions, and the delicacy of his colouring in its 
 most varied shades. However much Browne may 
 have been praised for the fertility of liis invention, 
 and the strength of his numbers, it seems to me 
 that his chief excellence lies in the picturesque man- 
 ner in which he imitated nature. His birds, his 
 flowers, and his rural scenery have all the vi\-id 
 fidelity of truth. Indeed, he tells us himself at the 
 beginning of his first book, that he intended to copy 
 after nature, as she was seen surrounding the place 
 of his birth: 
 
 '• My raiisc for lofty pitches shall not rome, 
 But homely pipen of my native home."' 
 
 With rural scenery he had also studied rural cha- 
 racter, and whenever he touches on the feelings that 
 are cliiefly called into play in a country life, it is 
 evident he had seen and participated in those feel- 
 ings he describes. In the higher efforts of imagi-
 
 XXXII.] MERITS OF BROWNE. 17 
 
 nation he is far beneath Spenser, whose works he is 
 considered to have studied with the diHgence of a 
 pupil in his school. This may be traced in Ms 
 ' Shepherd's Pipe,' which though it possesses many- 
 beautiful passages, is not to be compared with the 
 * Shepherds Calendar" of his master. There is no- 
 thing in it that approaches in excellence Spenser's 
 inimitable fable of the bramble and the oak. Nor 
 did Browne equal Drayton in those wild flights of 
 fancy that make many poems of the latter (the 
 'Nymphidia" in particular) so attractive, that we 
 grow familiar with the fairy gTOund over which he 
 guides our wilhng feet. It has been said that 
 Browne's ' Masque of Circe,' written for the gentle- 
 men of the Inner Temple, gave to Milton the hint 
 from which he borrowed his 'Masque of Comus;' 
 but there seems little probability such was the case. 
 The song of the syren in ' Circe' has been justly- 
 celebrated; and the poem possesses many striking 
 passages; but as a whole it is greatly inferior to 
 ' Comus" in graceful sentiment and elegant diction. 
 
 Browne's great fault, more or less seen in all his 
 poems, was that he never knew where to stop ; so 
 that he often weakens an image, or renders tedious 
 a description, by running it out to an unconscionable 
 length. This, though a fault, is one often found 
 where there is much vivacity of imagination, and 
 copiousness of expression : the plants of a barren 
 soil have no luxuriance that requires pruning to 
 give greater strength to those branches that it 
 would be desirable to cultivate mth the utmost care. 
 However Browne, as a poet, might excel in rural 
 imagery, he was able to soar in the higher regions 
 of his art, though he seldom ventured within their
 
 18 browne''s defects. [let. 
 
 confines : some few passages of this description in 
 his 'Britannia's Pastorals' arc such as our gTeatest 
 epic poets would not have disowned, as of a spirit 
 kindred with their own. His verse is peculiarly har- 
 monious, and flows on with a smoothness that is 
 seldom broken by any harsh turn or mean image 
 and word ; though these latter faults are not such 
 as he is wholly free from ; indeed they sometimes 
 intrude in the midst of an elevated description, or 
 noble figure, in his subject. Thus we find in the 
 first song of the second book, he injures the so- 
 lemnity with which he is conducting the approach 
 of "all-drowsie night," in her car of jet from her 
 secret caverns, by making the steeds of " iron grey " 
 with which she is drawn send " moist drops " ujion 
 the earth, which they '' maijily sweat.'' Here the 
 expression is coarse, and the image disagreeable : it 
 offends the reader in the midst of a very striking 
 picture. We would also wish (a few lines farther 
 on) that the poet in describing the rivulets had 
 omitted the '' conduit-pipes ^ and had rather called 
 those rivulets by their simple and proper name, in 
 their progress from the " many a crystall s})ring." 
 
 It is, however, but fair to surmise that these 
 " conduit-pipes " were probably suggested to him by 
 the upper and lower conduit in the main street of 
 his native town ; for though these might not be com- 
 pared to the fountains of Rome, yet, in his da}-, and 
 even till within a few years past, they were objects 
 of peculiar attraction, and places of general resort 
 with all the old and young women and children in 
 the neighbourhood. There the}' gathered to fill 
 their water-buckets ; to chat or wash their clothes 
 at these fountains. The groups of girls thus as-
 
 XXXIl.] THE WALLA AND TAVY. 19 
 
 sembled and employed might, in some degree, re- 
 mind one of Nausicaa and her damsels, who^ by the 
 command of Pallas, washed the bridal robes of state 
 in that limpid fountain where the virgins of Phseacia 
 were wont to 2:)urify their vestments and pursue 
 their sports, as their mantles lay outspread and dry- 
 ing on the grass around them. This is probably 
 rather too fine a simile for the old Tavistock conduit 
 and the pretty Devonians assembled around it wash- 
 ing their clothes; and as these ancient conduits 
 no longer exist, I have never seen the picturesque 
 gi'oups they once afforded, though I am assured by 
 Mr. Bray thej^ were svich as would have supplied 
 the most admirable subjects for the pencil of an 
 artist like Prout, whose fondness for washino- fimires 
 is well known to all the admirers of his works. 
 
 Of all Browne's poems, that which is most likely 
 to interest an inhabitant of Tavistock is the episode 
 he introduces in the second book of • Britannia's 
 Pastorals,' the ' Loves of the Walla and the Tavy.' 
 I may be wrong in the conjecture, but I cannot help 
 fancying the idea of this episode was suggested to 
 him by Ovids Egeria transformed into a fountain. 
 Walla, by her own prayer, like Egeria, is changed 
 into a stream, and runs to meet her beloved Tavy. 
 This episode is replete with the most beautiful 
 imagery, and many of the scenes it describes with 
 so much truth and feeling w ill be recognised b};- a 
 lover of " sweet Ina's coombe," and " Walla's silver 
 stream." Ere quitting the subject of Browne's 
 works, I cannot help selecting a few of the many 
 beautiful passages with which they abound, as the 
 best comment upon the merit of our poet witli
 
 20 EXTRACTS FROM BROWNE. [lET. 
 
 which I can conclude this long letter. How lively 
 is the following description ! 
 
 " Looke as a lover with a ling'ring kisse. 
 About to part with the best halfe that's his, 
 Faine would he stay but that he fears to doe it. 
 And curseth time for so fast hast'ning to it ; 
 Now takes his leave, and yet begins anew 
 To make lesse vows than are esteemed true, 
 Then sayes he must be gone, and then doth finde 
 Something he should have spoke that's out of minde, 
 And whilst he stands to looke for't in her eyes, 
 Their sad sweet glance so tyes his faculties, 
 To think from what he parts, that he is now 
 As farre from leaving her, or knowing how 
 As when he came ; begins his former straine. 
 To kisse, to vow, and take his leave againe. 
 Then turns, comes backe, sighes, parts, and yet doth goe, 
 Apt to retire, and loth to leave her soe." 
 
 How animated is this picture of boys hunting the 
 " squirrel !" 
 
 " Then as a nimble squirrel from the wood. 
 Ranging the hedges for his filberd-food. 
 Sits partly on a hough his browne nuts cracking. 
 And from the shell the sweet white kernel taking. 
 Till (with their crookes and bags) a sort of boyes 
 (To share with him) come with so great a noyse 
 That he is forc'd to leave a nut nigh broke, 
 And for his life leape to a neighbour oake ; 
 Thence to a beech, thence to a row of ashes, 
 Whilst through the quagmires and red water plashes 
 The boyes run dabbling through thicke and thin, 
 One tears his hose, another breakes his shin j 
 This, torn and tatter'd, hath with much adoe 
 Got by the brj^ers, and that hath lost his shoe: 
 This drops his baud ; that headlong falls for haste; 
 Another cryes behind for being last: 
 With stickus and stones, and many a sounding halloo, 
 The little foole, with no small sport, they follow ; 
 Whilst he, from tree to tree, from spray to spray, 
 Gets to the wood and hides him in his dray ;
 
 XXXII.] EXTRACTS FROM BROWNE. 21 
 
 Such shift made riot ere he could get up, 
 And so, from bough to bough, he wonne the toppe ; 
 Though hindrances, from ever coming there, 
 Were often thrust upon him by despaire." 
 
 A stag in chase is thus introduced with great 
 beauty : — 
 
 <* More he had spoke, but that a bugle shrill 
 Run through the valley from the higher hill ; 
 And as they turnd them towards the hart'ning sound, 
 A gallant stag, as if he scoru'd the ground, 
 Came running with the winde, and bore his head 
 As he had been the king of forests bred ! 
 Not swifter comes the messenger of heaven, 
 Nor winged vessel with a full gale driven. 
 Nor the swift swallow flying neere the ground." 
 
 The industry of the house-marten, a common bird 
 here, is thus prettily described : — 
 
 " So soone as can a marten from our towne 
 Fly to the river underneath the downe, 
 And backe returne with mortar in her bill 
 Some little cranny in her nest to fill." 
 
 The following is a most lively description of a 
 concert of birds ; 
 
 "Two nights thus past: the lily-handed Morne 
 Saw Phoebus stealing dewe from Ceres' corne. 
 The mounting larke (^dale's herauld) got on wing, 
 Bidding each bird choose ovit his bow and sing. 
 The lofty treble sung the little wren ; 
 Robin the meane, that best of all loves men ; 
 The nightingale the tenor, and the thrush 
 The counter-tenor sweetly in a bush : 
 And that the music might be full in parts. 
 Birds &om the groves flew with right willing hearts: 
 But (as it seem'd) they thought (as do the swaines. 
 Which tune their pipes on sack'd Hibernia's plaines) 
 There should some droaning part be, therefore will'd 
 Some bird to file into a neighb'ring field, 
 In embassie unto the king of bees.
 
 22 EXTRACTS FROM BROWNE. [ LET 
 
 To aide his partners on the flowers and trees, 
 Who condescending gladly flew along 
 To heare the base to his well-timed song. 
 The crow was willing they should be beholden 
 For his deep voice, but being hoarse with scolding. 
 He thus lends aide : upon an cake doth climbe, 
 And, nodding with his head, so keepeth time." 
 
 The Devonshire legend, that fairies and pixies 
 
 steal honey from the hives of bees, is thus noticed by 
 
 Browne : — 
 
 " For as I oft have heard the wood-nimphs say, 
 The dancing fairies when they left to play, 
 Then backe did pull them, and in holes of trees 
 Stole the sweet honey from the painfull bees. 
 Which in the flower to put they oft were seene. 
 And for a banquet brought it to their queene." 
 
 Many an inhabitant of Tavistock will recognise 
 
 the following scenes : — 
 
 " A little grove is seated on the marge 
 Of Tavy's streame, not over thicke nor large, 
 Where every morn a quire of Silvans sung,^ 
 And leaves to chatt'ring windes serv'd as a tongue, 
 By whom the water runs in many a ring, 
 As if it fain would stay to heare them sing, 
 And on the top a thousand young birds flye 
 To be instructed in their harmony. 
 Neere to the end of this all-joyous grove 
 A dainty circled plot seem'd as it strove 
 To keepe all bryers and bushes from invading 
 Her pleasing compasse by their needlesse shading, 
 Since it was not so large but that the store 
 Of trees around could shade her best and more. 
 In midst thereof a little swelling hill, 
 Gently disburthen'd of a christall rill, 
 Which from the green side of the flowry bancke 
 Eat downe a channell — there the wood-nimphs drank." 
 
 Here are the lines alluding to Ina's Coombe, now 
 more commonly called Inscoombe, situated about a J 
 mile and a half from Tavistock : — -
 
 XXXII.] r.XTRACTS FROM liROWNE. 23 
 
 " There lyes a vale extended to the nortli 
 Of Tavy's streame, which prodigall, sends forth 
 In autumne more rare fruits than have been spent 
 In any greater plot of fruitful Kent. 
 Two high brow'd rocks on eyther side begin, 
 As with an arch to close the valley in. 
 Upon their rugged fronts short writhen cakes 
 Untouch'd of any feller's banefuU stroakes, 
 The ivy, twisting round their barkes, hath fed 
 Past time wylde goates which no man followed ; 
 Low in the valley some small herds of deere, 
 For head and footmanship withouten peer. 
 Fed luidisturbed ; the swains tha thereby thrived, 
 By the tradition from their sires derived, 
 Call'd it sweet Ina's-coombe : but whether she 
 Were of the earth or greater progeny 
 Judge by her deeds; once this is truely knowne, 
 She many a time hath on a bugle blowne, 
 And thrungh Ihe dale pursu'd the jolly chase, 
 As she had bid the winged windes abase." 
 
 Another scene in our neighbourhood is thus beau- 
 tifully described : — 
 
 " Betweene two hills, the highest Phoebus sees 
 Gallantly crown'd with large skie-kissing trees, 
 Under whoso shade the humble valleys lay 
 And wikle-bores from their dens their gamboles play,* 
 There lay a gravel'd walke oregrowne with greene, 
 Where neither tract of man nor beast was seene ; 
 And as the plow-man when the land he tils, 
 Throwcs up the fruitfull earth in ridged hils, 
 Betweene whose chevron form he leaves a balke ; 
 So "twixt those hils had nature fram'd this walke, 
 Not over darke. nor light, in angles bonding, 
 And like the gliding of a snake descending: 
 All husht and silent as tliu mid of night : 
 No chatt'ring pie, nor crow appear'd in sight; 
 But further in I heard the turtle-dove 
 Singing sad dirges on her lifeless love: 
 Birds that compassion from the rocks could bring 
 Had only license in that place to sing : 
 * The '• wllde-horeis'' as wl'11 as the '' niijhtingafes^' of Browne, in 
 Devonshh-e, I apprehend must have been poetical licenses.
 
 24 EXTRACTS FROM BROWNE. [lET. 
 
 Whose doleful notes the melancholy cat 
 Close in a hollow tree sat wond'ring at. 
 And trees that on the hill side comely grew, 
 When any little blast of ^ol blew 
 Did nod their curled heads, as they would be 
 The judges to approve their melody." 
 
 The poet thus describes himself, when about to 
 relate his tale of ' Walla, Tavy's fairest love :' — 
 
 " Among the rest a shepheard (though but young, 
 Yet hart'ned to his pipe) with all the skill 
 His few yeeres could, began to fit his quill, 
 By Tavie's speedy streame he fed his flocke, 
 Where when he sate to sport him on a rocke. 
 The water nymphs would often come unto him, 
 And for a dance with many gay gifts woo him. 
 Now posies of this flowre, and then of that ; 
 Now with fine shels, then with a rushy hat, 
 With corall or red stones brought from the deepe 
 To make him bracelets, or to marke his sheepe. 
 Willie he hight. Who by the ocean's qneene 
 More cheer"d to sing than such young lads had beene.. 
 Tooke his best-framed pipe and thus gan move 
 His voice of Walla, Tavy's fairest love." 
 
 The progress of the whole episode reminds the 
 reader of Ovid. After the nymph Walla is trans- 
 formed into a stream, the poem thus concludes : — 
 
 "To Tavy's cbristall streame her waters goe 
 As if some secret power ordayned so ; 
 And as a maide she loved him, so a brooke 
 To his imbracements onely her betooke. 
 On Walla's brooke her sisters now bewayle 
 For whom the rocks spend tears when others fail, 
 And all the woods ring with their piteous moanes : 
 Which Tavy hearing, as he chid the stones. 
 That stopt his speedy course, raising his head 
 Inquired the cause, and thus was answered : 
 ' Walla is now no more. Nor from the hill 
 Will she more pluck for thee the daffadill, 
 Nor make sweet anadems, to gird thy brow : 
 Yet in the grove she runs, a river now.
 
 XXXll.] - EXTRACTS FROM rsRO'.VNE. 25 
 
 Looke as the feelinj^ plant, which learned swaines 
 
 Relate to grow on the East Indian plaines, 
 
 Shrinkes up his dainty leaves, if any sand 
 
 You throw thereon, or touch it with your hand : 
 
 So with the chance the heavy wood-nymphs told, 
 
 The river, inly touch'd, began to fold 
 
 His arms acrosse, and, while the torrent raves, 
 
 Shrunke his grave head beneath his silver waves. 
 
 Since when he never on his bankes appearos 
 
 But as one franticke : when the clouds spend teares, 
 
 He thinks they of his woes compassion take, 
 
 (And not a spring but weeps for Walla's sake ;) 
 
 And then he often (to bemoane her lacke) 
 
 Like to a mourner goes, his waters blacke, 
 
 And every brooke attending in his way, 
 
 For that time meets him in the like array." 
 
 VOL. lir.
 
 26 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Period of the great rebellion — Commencement of the 
 reign of Charles I. — Prosperous state of England — The amiable 
 character of the king — Discontents — Factions — Arts practised by 
 the leaders of rebellion — The Marquess of Hertford; Sir Ralph 
 Hopton, &c., sent into the west — Various fortunes experienced by 
 the royalists — Stratton Heights — State of Devon at this period — 
 Sir Ralph Hopton at Launceston Castle — Tavistock a very dis- 
 affected place — Pym its member-r-Lewknor the Vicar — Sir Bevil 
 Grenville, his gallantry and spirit — Sir Nicholas Slanning, go- 
 vernor of Pendennis Castle — Names and quality of gentlemen who 
 rose in arms for the king — Muster-roll of Slanning — Earl of Stam- 
 ford retires to Tavistock after Ruthen's defeat at Saltash — The 
 royalists march to meet him at Tavistock — Stamford departs the 
 town — The royalists in distress from the want of supplies — Terms 
 of treaty entered upon whilst at Tavistock — The republicans not to 
 be relied upon in their promises and protestations — Victory of 
 Stratton Heights — Sir Ralph Hopton — Battle of Lansdown — Sir 
 Bevil Grenville killed — Sir Nicholas Slanning killed — Prince 
 Charles (afterwards Charles II.) comes to Tavistock, 1645 — 
 Appoints certain lords to meet him there — Receives letters from the 
 king — The prince and his councillors deliberate — Answer returned 
 to the king — Arrival of the Cornish trained bands — The lords 
 again deliberate — The prince resolves to march to Totness — A 
 detachment of the royalists surprised by the enemy who beat up 
 their quarters — The retreat from Tavistock to La'iuceston left to 
 the conduct of Sir Richard Grenville — His careless manner of 
 performing that duty — In 1644, the house at Fitz-ford held out 
 against the rebels — Taken by Lord Essex — One hundred and fifty 
 persons in Fitz-ford made prisoners — Character of Lady Howard — 
 An account of her life — Her numerous marriages — Her beauty, 
 talents, and wealth — Buckingham procures her for the wife of Sir 
 Richard Grenville — Sir Richard's character — His ill-treatment of 
 his wife — His licentiousness and extravagance — Suit in chancery 
 concerning her property — Disastrous consequences to the husband —
 
 XXXIII.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 27 
 
 Walreddon another mansion and domain of Lady Howard — Sir 
 Richard escapes his long imprisonment — Goes beyond sea — De- 
 cree of the Star Chamber — Sir Richard returns — Becomes a royal- 
 ist, his wife takes part with the republicans — He settles in her 
 house near Tavistock — Buckland Monachorum given to him also 
 by the king — Sir Richard's abuse of prosperity and power — He 
 waylays, catches, and hangs the attorney employed by his wife 
 against him — Time of Lady Howard's death uncertain — Legend 
 of Lady Howard and the goblin hound — Romantic and traditionary 
 tale of Lady Howard and her daughter — Her will — Tradition 
 respecting Charles II. 's flight to Tavistock — Old buildings con- 
 sidered the scene of Charles's concealment, pulled down — Said 
 to have originally belonged to Orgar, Earl of Devon — The archi- 
 tecture of later date — Remarkable traditionary tale of the spirit 
 and courage of a girl when the town of Tavistock was in the hands 
 of the rebels — Singular letter from a mad woman — Painted glass 
 and tombs destroyed — A very curious poem written by a school- 
 master, called 'Tavistock's Encomium'; given at full length. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, April \?ith, 1833. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 The next remarkable period of which I have 
 to speak in the history of our town, is that of the 
 great rebelHon ; when it will be found this place 
 was, more than once, a busy scene of action, of ne- 
 gotiation, of contest, and of all those varied move- 
 ments of hope and fear that influenced the adherents 
 of either party during so perilous a time. 
 
 That in the commencement of the reiffn of 
 Charles I. abuses existed, that the prerogative of 
 the crown was not sufficiently defined, and that in 
 some instances an arbitrar\^ power was exercised 
 by the king, are truths not denied even by the 
 warmest advocates of loyalty. But what were these 
 grievances in comparison with tlic man}* blessings 
 then enjoyed by the country at large ? And is it not 
 cruel and most unjust to condemn Cliarles for some 
 
 c2
 
 28 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 few arbitrary deeds, without taking into consider- 
 ation the acts of his predecessors^ and the ahnost 
 more than mortal rule that was then held sacred and 
 unalienable in princes ? The acts of Henry VIII., 
 of Mary, of Elizabeth, and even of James I., the 
 way in wliich they commanded parliaments and 
 tutored councils, were too often in the highest 
 degree an exercise of the most arbitrary will ; and 
 could it be expected that Charles, educated in a 
 court where the divine right of kings Ma.s never dis- 
 puted, — Avhere, from his cradle, he was taught that 
 absolute obedience was due to the crown, — should at 
 once forget the lessons and examples held up to him 
 for years ? Yet, as an attentive examination into 
 all his acts will prove, he was far less arbitrary than 
 his predecessors. Clarendon declares that he was 
 doubtful of his ovm judgment, where that judgment 
 •was often the soundest and the best ; and too much 
 led, from this very want of confidence in himself, by 
 the opinions of those around him. He had not, in- 
 deed, at all times about him a Falkland and a 
 Hyde for his bosom counsellors and friends. 
 
 Yet if we consider the state of England, as the 
 great historian of those days has depicted, at the 
 commencement of Charles's reign, we shall wonder 
 by what infatuation, if the chastising hand of God 
 ■\vas not in it, a country coidd be led on to the scenes 
 cf outrage then committed, and to the murder of so 
 amiable and virtuous a prince ! Tlie kingdom was 
 at peace, and commerce so flourished, that Perin- 
 chief tells us, even in return for the Spanish gold, 
 then coined at an English mint, the merchants ex- 
 ported their own goods, mostly of native commodi- 
 ties. Husbandry was thriving, the land increasing
 
 XXXIII.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 29 
 
 in value and cultivation. Over the wide seas the 
 English name and character was respected. The 
 laws were administered with care; and even the 
 courts against which the greatest objections were 
 raised, seldom punished other than notorious of- 
 fenders. The arts of painting, sculpture, and archi- 
 tecture were cherished and encouraged bv a king 
 of the most refined taste ; they were indeed rising 
 to a degree of perfection, that had his life and 
 throne been spared, would have made this kingdom 
 rival in her schools those of foreign countries in 
 their proudest days. Above all, the Church was 
 graced by men of such eminence, piety, and learn- 
 ing, that the works of many of the prelates and 
 divines of that day will exist as long as tlie lan- 
 guage in which they are ^^Titten endures. Yet these 
 blessings were strangely overlooked by a thankless 
 and indulged people ; they thought most of what 
 they still wanted, and undervalued Avhat they had ; 
 for nothing could satisfy the wilful and discontented : 
 to give happiness to such was useless. Like the 
 calmest and most crystalline spring, if it pours 
 forth its waters into the sea. they will become dis- 
 tasteful, and turbulent amidst angrv waves ; even 
 so Gods choicest blessings poured on a thankless 
 people lose all there is in them of blessing, and 
 presently change their nature ; for every thing must 
 be ill, where there is no disposition to think it well. 
 The reign of Charles was, indeed, disastrous ; that 
 long train of prosperity had corrupted the nation, 
 even as prosperity sometimes corrupts individuals 
 in their fortunes. In his day there was the inso- 
 lence of wealth, and a growing self-opinion founded 
 on error, the certain forerunner of a sullen impa-
 
 30 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 tience of authority : a love of change came with these 
 opinions ; and the vulgar^ who are ever eager after 
 novelty, and think the newest thing the wisest and 
 the best, Avere fed with the hopes of a Avild and fana- 
 tical liberty; were entertained mth scoffs and libels 
 against the ( 'hurch, the King, and the Nobility. And 
 Avho is there that has looked on human life and 
 need be taught that ignorance and vulgarity delight 
 in the censure of great persons, and give a ready 
 credence to the Avorst that can be spoken of all 
 who are above them in station, conduct, or educa- 
 tion ? A demao-ogue who will entertain a mob A\dth 
 declaiming against these (especially if they are of 
 an order which is invested mth reverence from its 
 religious character) will ever be popular with the 
 multitude. Eapidit}^ too, was another principle 
 exerted as essential in the times of rebellion : a 
 leader of faction did not pause ; for there Avas no- 
 thing he feared so much as the calmness attending 
 the leisure of reflection — Avhen reason speaks more 
 than passion. 
 
 Thus did the designing, the violent, and the dis- 
 affected, in Charles's days, eagerly unite Avith all Avho 
 Avould but help the work of mischief. The hopes of 
 the spoliation of the Church Avere a sufficient spin- to 
 raise the outcry against bishops ; and the mob, Avho 
 love action Avhcn pillage is likely to folloAV, Avere ready 
 enovigh to assemble on the least sign from their lead- 
 ers. No one Avas thought so inconsiderable but 
 that his services were Avelcomed at such a time ; for 
 though to support the honour of a kingdom, to de- 
 fend its institutions and preserve its sanity, requires 
 courage, constancy, and sense, the meanest and 
 A'ilest of their kind are fully competent to the Avork of
 
 XXXIII.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 31 
 
 destruction, whilst men who are the most cowardly in 
 situations where their actions are seen, as it were 
 singly by all, so that they fall within cognizance of 
 the laws, become bold and even brutal in a rabble, 
 where, however great the injury may be that is 
 effected, the blame is general more than particular. 
 
 Had the redress of real grievances been the only 
 motive that stirred on the patriots, as they are 
 called, of Charles's time, they would soon have been 
 satisfied, for grievances were complained of and 
 redressed ; but every concession, as do all conces- 
 sions made from fear, produced a yet higher, less 
 reasonable, and more insulting demand. And when 
 terms were proposed to the king, as in the nego- 
 tiations at Carisbrook, during his captivity, his ene- 
 mies first proposed sometliing within the possibility 
 of liis consent ; but no sooner did they find he was 
 likely to grant it, than something else was added, 
 repugnant to his feelings and his conscience, to 
 which they knew he could not consent ; and thence 
 they took occasion to represent him as faithless, and 
 not to be relied on in any terms jn'oposed ! Thus 
 was his honour defamed, his principles impugned, 
 and that reverence for his person which his virtues, 
 as well as his station, so justly entitled him to com- 
 mand, was no longer entertained for him : it was but 
 one of those sure modes to overturn the throne, by 
 rendering him who fills it an object of contempt and 
 distrust in the minds of men. 
 
 Yet, says a ^vl*iter of the time, who was not too 
 favourable to the royal prerogative, "many who took 
 part against the king, thought they did it to 
 defend him from dangerous counsellors ; to maintain 
 the pri\ileges of parliament ; to guard the protestant
 
 32 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 faith from the insidious attacks of popery, and to 
 preserve the ancient laws of the land." Such were 
 the false pretences that led away the weak rather 
 than the wicked. Others required pretexts less 
 reasonahle than these ; and with such the desire of 
 seeing a government that was to be a perfect one 
 (in sucli measure of perfection as no mortal state 
 ever yet attained, and can alone he found in hea- 
 ven) was made the motive and spur for disaifection. 
 These were evils enough, but not all. If it is fatal, 
 as surely it is, to any state to have no establislied 
 Church, it is scarcely less dangerous to have a coun- 
 try overrun with sectaries. This cause of misery, 
 in the mixed disputes of civil and religious govern- 
 ment, was, in the reign of Charles, the ever-burning 
 torch that kept alive the fires of sedition and re- 
 bellion. When the popular faction, which judged 
 all things by their own excited feelings, and nothing 
 by truth, v.hose voice was drowned in the noise of 
 numbers, had shaken or overthrown all the ancient 
 institutions, all the ties of obedience and honour in 
 Church and State, the Monarchy, hitherto upheld by 
 them, fell like a noble cedar of the forest, whose 
 lofty head was alone to be brought low by the whirl- 
 wind or the axe. 
 
 Such was the end of that general system of 
 change and reformation which produced the civil 
 wars in the times of Charles I.; a fearful example 
 that it is dangerous to commence any s^^stem of 
 reformation contrary to the known laws and ordi- 
 nances of God — contrary to the Avisdom and prac- 
 tice of ages. When the zealots and patriots of 
 Charles's days stepped beyond the boundary of 
 duty ; when they ceased to honour the king ; when
 
 xxxiii.] THE gh::at rebellion. 33 
 
 they forgot the written word, which forbids resistance 
 to God's vicegerent here on earth, they were no 
 longer patriots bnt rebels ; then was it the pride of 
 the heart, and not tlie love of freedom, which became 
 the motive and the measure of their actions. They 
 advocated the liberty of the subject, and became 
 slaves to the tyranny of an armed force. Their 
 House of Commons rose up against law, and sub- 
 mitted to those who made their own will a law. 
 They aided in the murder of a king, and were 
 driven from their seats by a dictator. They com- 
 menced their career by tampering with things that 
 should have been held inviolate : they would taste 
 the sweets of liberty (a wild liberty of their own 
 choosing), but like the honey of Jonathan (in those 
 scriptures they affected to follow to the letter) too 
 many found death in the flavour, for the poison 
 remained when the sweetness was no more found. 
 
 Good, it is true, at length arose out of evil ; but 
 that was Gods doing, not theirs. They made the 
 havoc of the tempest : He alone sent the calm which 
 succeeded it, in the restoration of the Throne and 
 the Church. 
 
 At the time that Charles, finding it necessary to 
 strengthen his power in the several parts of England 
 Avhere he could hope to make a stand against the 
 Parliament, sent into the west the jNIarquess of 
 Hertford with many nobles devotedly attached to 
 his cause ; he sent there, likeAvise, Sir Ralph Hop- 
 ton, Sir John Berkeley, and Sir Hugh Pollard ; the 
 latter gentleman being a native of Devon, and pos- 
 sessing considerable influence amongst all classes in 
 the county. Many others of the best families in 
 the shire, the most respected, and having large 
 
 c3
 
 34 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 estates emulously followed their example, and spared 
 neither their property nor their lives in the service 
 of the king. Various were the fortunes experienced 
 by these brave men. They were sometimes raised 
 to the highest hopes of ultimate success, as in the 
 battle of Stratton Heights, and at others, as in the 
 yielding of Exeter and Plymouth, they were re- 
 duced to the most melancholy prospects of the 
 futiu'e. Yet, imsubdued in spirit, many were the 
 plans, some recorded in liistory, others but the 
 theme of tradition, concerted, even in the most 
 hopeless extremities, to raise the men of the West 
 in the cause of the Idng. So sharp were the con- 
 tests in tliis county, that there is scarcely an old 
 house belonging to a family of any consequence, 
 during the period of rebelHon, but it underwent a 
 regular siege — was taken and retaken (like Ford 
 House and Sydenham, and Great Fulford), bat- 
 tered and injured, with all the circiunstances at- 
 tending wars so bitter in their nature, where one 
 townsman, or one friend, frequently found himself 
 placed in opposition to another, without the kindly 
 feelings of private intercourse ha^"ing been previ- 
 ously broken. 
 
 Clarendon remarks that in Devon, " though there 
 was a wonderful and superstitious reverence tawards 
 the name of a parliament, and a prejudice to the power 
 of the court, yet was there a full submission and love 
 of the established government of Church and State, 
 especially to that part of the Church as concerned 
 the liturgy, or book of common prayer, Avhicli was 
 a most general object of veneration with the people." 
 So much, indeed, did tliis love of the liturgy pre- 
 vail, that during those times when the ascendancy
 
 XXXIII.J THE GREAT REBELLION. 35 
 
 of the parliament was greatest in the West, ser\'ice 
 was in many of the family mansions regularly ob- 
 served b}' some secreted minister of the Church, who 
 performed it often at the hazard of his liberty and 
 his life. Walker, in his very curious book on the 
 sequestered clergy, furnishes so many well-authen- 
 ticated histories of the persecution and zeal of these 
 good and learned men in our county, that a xevy 
 interesting little volume on the subject might be 
 collected from him and Prince. 
 
 It was about the time that Sir Ealpli Hopton 
 arrived at Launceston in Cornwall, when an order 
 of the sessions was granted to the high sheriff, a 
 gentleman loyal to the king, to raise the posse comi- 
 tatus for the purpose of dispersing the milawful 
 assembly of committee men (Sir Alexander Carew 
 and Sir Richard Buller being at their head) at 
 Launceston, under Avhose authority Sir George 
 Chudleigh, a gentleman of talents, courage, and 
 fortune, was most actively employed at Ta^■istock. 
 with five or six troops of horse, to raise men on the 
 parliament side. Sir George intended to advance 
 farther westward, but he paused on learning news 
 of the hostile preparations being made by Sir Ralph 
 Hopton, previous to the battle of Stratton Heights; 
 Chudleigh, therefore, thought it prudent not to stir 
 farther than necessary from his present quarters, 
 and he merely drew off a part of his force to Lifton. 
 
 Tavistock, I fear, notwithstanding the brave man- 
 ner in which the old house at Fitz-ford held out for 
 the king, was a very disaffected place. Nor can we 
 wonder at this, when we recollect that it was under 
 the immediate influence of the Earl of Bedford, who
 
 36 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 had taken part ^Yitll the rebel parhament ; that the 
 notorious and artful Pym Avas its member, and that 
 Stroude and his crew of evil spirits, making their 
 haunt at Newnham, only a few miles from the town 
 of Plymouth, kept up a constant intercourse with 
 this neighbourhood, even whilst thc}' were engaged 
 in their duties elsewhere. There was likewise in Ta- 
 vistock a certain Mr. Thomas Lewknor, then vicar of 
 the town, and though of him I have been able to 
 learn no particulars, yet as he was noted by the 
 parliament committee in their report as " a preach- 
 ing minister," and suffered to remain quiet in his 
 cure, \YC may rest satisfied that he v.as more a pru- 
 dent than a zealous servant of the Church, and did 
 not harangue his flock on the sin of rebellion to the 
 king. Lewknor enjoyed, according to the same 
 report, a very good living ; in proportion to the 
 times much better than it is now, since it is there 
 valued at two hundred and forty pounds per annum, 
 and a glebe yearly valued at seven pounds ; the 
 whole making a large income in those days for a 
 country clergyman, though in so populous a town.* 
 No glebe now goes with the church. 
 
 After raising the posse comitatus of the West for 
 the king, the loyal gentlemen next determined on 
 raising voluntary regiments of foot among themselves, 
 their followers, tenantry, and friends. Sir Bevil Gren- 
 ville, that truly chivalrous leader in generosity, gal- 
 lantry, and courage ; and the noble and accomplished 
 Sir Nicholas Shinning (son of the Slanning who was 
 
 * Eleven pouiuls per annum was, in the days of Henry VIII., the 
 pension charged for the vicar, on the Russell family, by the original 
 grant of the abbey lands.
 
 XXXIIl.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 37 
 
 killed in the duel by Sir John Fitz) exerted them- 
 selves resolutely and unremittingly in the royal 
 cause. Sir Nicholas was at this time governor of 
 Pendennis Castle, and a member of the House of 
 Commons.* So likewise were John Arundel and 
 Trevannion, both gentlemen of the greatest worth. 
 These also undertook to raise a troop of horse, 
 volunteers, for the king. Tremaine, Trelawny, 
 
 * The muster-roll of Sir Nicholas Slanning is still in existence. 
 In fact it is at this time in our house. My brother copied it, and 
 inserted it, in his notices of Tavistock Abbey, in the Gentlemans 
 Magazine. The following are curious items: — '"Stannary of Ta- 
 vistocke — A perfect muster-roll, containing the several hundreds, 
 parishes, and hamlets, together with the officers and souldiers within 
 the said stannary. Officers, Sir Nicholas Slanning, Lieutenant-Co- 
 lonel ; .roseph Drake, Esq, Captain-Lieutenant; John Jacob, 
 Gent., Ensign." Names of four sergeants and eight corporals: then 
 follow the names of the men from the different hundreds, making in 
 all a force of 1 5G, of which about two-thirds bear muskets, and the 
 rest pikes. '• Seen and confirmed by us under our hands and seales — 
 (the first name effaced) Nicholas Slanning, Edw. Yarde, Joseph 
 
 Drake." At the back of the roll are the following notes respecting 
 
 the arms of the company. They are very curious. 
 
 "Horse defensive armes, are a backe, brest, and pot, pistol proofe; 
 offensive, a sword and case of pistells, ther barrel not under 14 inches 
 in length; horse furniture, a great saddle or pad with burrs and straps 
 to affix the holster." 
 
 « Footman's armes : musquett barrell not under three foot ; the 
 gage of the bore for twelve bullets (new) but ye old way fourteen to 
 ye pound ; a coller of bandaliers ; with a sworde." 
 
 •' Pykeman's armes : a pyke of ashe not under 16 foote, head and 
 foote included, with a backe, brest, head-piece, and sworde, ye old pyke 
 fifteen (feet); musquetier, halfc pound poudder, and 3 yardes of 
 matche, half a pound of buUetts." 
 
 « Horse, a q"'- a pound poudder and soe of bullets ; 5s. for every 
 day's omission " (of attendance). Clarendon tells us all the ammunition 
 was supplied by Sir Nicholas Slanning from the store at Pendennis 
 Castle; and that whilst at Tavistock he was distressed by the small 
 supply that remained. The above scanty list shows the correctness of 
 the historian.
 
 38 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 Edgecumbe, and many other men of fortune and 
 merit, hastened to show their zeal in the same cause 
 at this eventful time; and Sir Richard Grenville 
 (younger brother of Sir Bevil) was soon after sent 
 into the West bearing the king's commission, which, 
 notwithstanding some good services he rendered, 
 was by him grievously disgraced and abused. 
 
 Not long after the gentlemen of the West had 
 thus associated themselves in support of the royal 
 standard. Sir Ralph Hopton obtained a victory 
 (a. d. 1641) over the Parliament forces at Bradock 
 Down, near Liskeard, in Cornwall, where Ruthen had 
 led the rebels on. In this engagement the royalists 
 were singularly fortunate ; since, without the loss of 
 one gentleman of any note, and very few men, they 
 made twelve hundred of the enemy prisoners, seized 
 their colours, ammunition, cannon, and stores, and set 
 Ruthen flying, who speedily took shelter in Saltash, 
 with a view to fortifying it against further assaults 
 from his pursuers. The Earl of Stamford, hearing 
 of his ill success, retired, in great disorder, into Ta- 
 vistock, where he hoped to act as a check on the 
 growing successes of the royal party. 
 
 The royalists no sooner heard of Stamford having 
 taken his station in our town, than they determined 
 to rout him out, and secure the place for the king. 
 Sir Bevil Grenville, Sir Nicholas Slanning, Colonel 
 Trevannion, and others, advanced, therefore, mth 
 all their forces, towards Tavistock. But the Earl 
 not liking their visit, and probably thinking so many 
 guests were more than he could entertain in a man- 
 ner that would be satisfactory to the Parliament, fled 
 before their arrival, and took refuge in Plymouth. 
 The royalists, disappointed in their expected en-
 
 XXXI 11.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 39 
 
 counter with Stamford, dispersed their companies 
 in various quarters, and actively employed themselves 
 wherever they could fall in with an enemy ; at the 
 same time they succeeded in harassing Chudleigh, 
 and prevented his raising any effectual body, so as 
 to render him formidable in this part of Devon. 
 
 Wearied with their labours, and finding, from 
 want of sufficient ammunition, that it was impossible 
 they could stir the rebels in the strongholds of their 
 retreat, they once more retii'ed to Tavistock, where 
 they refreshed their men, arranged their affairs, and 
 laid plans for future action. Notwithstanding these 
 ardent exertions, and their generously throwing 
 their own means into the common stock, the want 
 of supplies, especially of ammunition, grievously 
 troubled them. Indeed, the successful manner in 
 which they had hitherto kept the enemy at bay, and, 
 in many instances, had routed him, was surprising ; 
 since all their warlike stores had amounted to no- 
 thing more than those furnished by Sir Nicholas 
 Slanning from Pendennis Castle, and what they had 
 fortimately taken in action. 
 
 So formidable an obstacle was this want of sup- 
 plies to all their measures, that, whilst at Tavistock, 
 they were induced to listen to certain proposals 
 made by the rebel gentlemen of Cornwall, "that 
 a treaty," says Clarendon, " might be entered into, 
 whereby the peace of the two counties of Cornwall 
 and Devon might be settled, and the war removed 
 into other parts." Though such a treat}' was not 
 welcome to the royalists, yet, crippled in their means, 
 without ammunition, and urged on by the popular 
 cry around them for peace, they went so far as to 
 consent to a truce, for the purpose of taking into 
 consideration the terms of the treaty. The debates
 
 40 THK GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 were preceded by every one receiving the sacrament, 
 with a most solemn oath made by either party, that 
 it was for no individual interest, but for the general 
 peace and welfare of the West, to maintain the Pro- 
 testant faith established by law in the Church of 
 England, and the just rights and prerogative of the 
 King, with the privileges of Parliament, &c. ; that 
 he who took the oath there acted without any equi- 
 vocation, mental reservation, or evasion whatsoever. 
 The royalists, judging the sincerity of their enemies 
 by their own, in this matter, and not supposing it to 
 be possible that they could cherish any motives of 
 guile, after having so solemnly disavowed them, 
 were induced to retire into Cornwall to consider 
 further on the treaty. But they speedily found 
 that no reliance was to be placed in the amicable 
 terms proposed by their enemies; and soon after 
 meeting with Captain Carteret, formerly the con- 
 troller of the king's navy, Avho undertook to procure 
 for them as much ammunition as they could desire 
 to possess, in consecjuence of these circinnstances the 
 treaty commenced at Tavistock was never carrfed 
 into effect. And so ready had the opposite party 
 held themselves for hostilities, that on the very 
 day after the cessation of preliminaries, Chudleigh 
 marched on the town of Launceston, and took it 
 whilst the inhabitants thought themselves secure, 
 and were not provided for such a visit, in conse- 
 quence of the late truce, and the hopes of its final 
 adjustment. The royalists, however, were not long 
 in retaliating ; since, imder the command of Sir 
 Ralph Hopton, they speedily achieved that great 
 victory at St rat ton Heights, where the Earl of 
 Stamford and Chudleigh were completely routed. 
 The battle of Lansdown, near Bath, soon after
 
 XXXin.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 41 
 
 followed ; there the great and good Sir Bevil Gren- 
 ville lost his life. Sir Nicholas Slanning was also 
 in this action, and displayed an intrepidity that 
 resembled the heroic spirit of a chivalrous age. He 
 is recorded on that day * to have performed actions 
 nothing- less Avonderful than daring : he led on his 
 followers in the mouth of cannon and musketry, 
 whilst the balls were fl}ing around him in all direc- 
 tions, towards the thickest of the fight. In this 
 perilous position he remained unhurt, so that he 
 seemed to carry with him " a charmed life," and in 
 the eyes of liis devoted men appeared almost more 
 than mortal; he had, indeed, raised in them a 
 spirit of enthusiasm which resembled his own ; and 
 the names of Grenville and Slanning struck terror 
 into the hearts of the enemy. His next action was 
 his last. He accompanied Prince Rupert to the 
 assault made on Bristol, a short time after Lans- 
 down fight; and, to the dismay of the whole army, 
 fell before the walls of that city, on the 26th of July, 
 1643. His friends, Godolphin and Trcvannion, 
 perished in the same encounter. Slanning was one 
 of the four gentlemen, all of Cornwall or Devon in 
 their birth, who were called the four wheels of 
 Charles's wain. Oiu- county biographer. Prince, men- 
 tions a monody, composed at the time, on the death 
 of these heroes, of which he gives two lines, — 
 
 " The four wheels of Chailts's wain, 
 Grenville, Godoljihin, Trevaiinion, Slanning, slain." 
 
 Certainly such men deserved to be celebrated in 
 better verse. The royalist and poet, the unfortu- 
 nate Shirley, would have done justice to their memory, 
 
 * See Clarendon, Priiic\>, and Fuller.
 
 42 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 had lie made their fall the subject of elegiac verse, 
 as he afterwards did the fall of the king, in those 
 immortal lines that would stir the coldest bosom with 
 feelings of sympathy and pity *. 
 
 The visit of Prince Charles to our town, still 
 the theme of tradition, is likewise recorded in his- 
 tory. It occurred in 1645, whilst the Parliament 
 forces so closely invested the city of Exeter (on the 
 east side by their works, and on the west by their 
 men), that no relief could be conveyed to the citi- 
 zens, who were in danger of suffering even from 
 famine during the siege. The prince, seeing the 
 peril in which his father's affairs stood in the West 
 at such a crisis, determined on calling a meeting, for 
 the purpose of consultation, at Tavistock, and thither 
 he summoned to attend in council all the noblemen 
 and gentlemen within reach, in whom he could 
 repose any confidence in a business of such import. 
 Some jealousies, however, on the part of LordWent- 
 worth, and the spirit of intrigue so natural to Sir 
 llichard Grenville, unfortunately interfered with the 
 schemes of Charles at the moment, and his council 
 was little more than one in name, in conseqvience of 
 the non-attendance of the principal persons who 
 were expected. The prince, finding his presence 
 would be absolutely necessary to compose discon- 
 tents, remove jealousies, and bring things into 
 better order, determined to advance into Devon 
 with as many men as he could collect to reinforce 
 
 * The beautiful monody by Shirley, written after the death of 
 Charles I., was introduced info one of his plays. It begins, — 
 " The glories of our mortal state 
 Are shadows, not substantial things, &c."
 
 XXXIII.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 43 
 
 Lord Wentwortli's party, so that Wentworth might 
 no longer have cause to complain his men were not 
 strong enough to bring the enemy to battle. 
 
 The day after Christmas day, in the ) ear 1645, 
 Prince Charles quitted Truro, passed through Bod- 
 min, and on the following morning entered Ta- 
 vistock, where he found waiting for him the few 
 persons who had obeyed his summons for the council. 
 These were Brentford, Capel, Hopton, and Cole- 
 pepper ; and lastly came Sir Eichard Grenville. 
 Sir Richard sent on his three regiments of foot to 
 Okehampton, under the command of General Moles- 
 worth, and the Cornish men were expected to come 
 up in a body in less than a week. At this time the 
 blockade of Plymouth was maintained by General 
 Digby ; so that a strong party of royalists, on 
 every side, were assembled, or assembling, to for- 
 Avard those plans on which Charles and his friends 
 should determine to proceed. There was, however, 
 a cause of anxiety that could not at this moment be 
 so easily set at rest — the want of sufficient supplies 
 for such a body of men. 
 
 Scarcely had the prince reposed a few hours on 
 his arrival at Tavistock, when he received a letter 
 from the king (which is given at large by Cla- 
 rendon), containing a command that, had he obeyed 
 it, would at once have changed the whole aspect of 
 the sovereign's affairs in the West. Charles informed 
 his son that he was at Oxford, and had just dis- 
 patched a trumpet to London to demand a pass for 
 his messengers, as he had resolved to propose a per- 
 sonal treaty Avitli the rebels of that city. He be- 
 lieved they would be induced to entertain his pro- 
 posals ; and if so, his real security would rest in the
 
 44 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 prince, his eldest son, being in another country ; a 
 circumstance which would make the rebels hearken 
 and yield to reason. The king, therefore, proceeded 
 to command the prince to take the earliest oppor- 
 tunity of transporting himself into Denmark, France, 
 or Holland, observing all security as to his passage, 
 since nothing else was to be feared. 
 
 This epistle was wi-itten in the Lord Colepepper's 
 ciphers: he Avas obliged, therefore, to be trusted 
 with the letter, in order to decipher it ; and though 
 at first the contents Avere held very secret, yet it was 
 deemed better to lay them before the council, ere an 
 answer was sent off to the king. 
 
 The lords, after fully considering the matter, 
 deemed the prince's absence from the army in the 
 West (to say nothing of the difficulty and hazard of 
 getting him on ship-board) would be so discourag- 
 ing, and produce such ill consequences at such a 
 time, that the royal command could not be obeyed 
 without doing a manifest injury to him who gave it. 
 The Tavistock councillors therefore drew up a let- 
 ter, to which each person signed his name, pointed 
 out the dangers attending the plan for ilight, &c. 
 and dispatched it by the Oxford courier with all 
 haste; yet fearing miscarriage, on the next day 
 another messenger, bearing a copy of the same 
 letter, was sent forward by another road, that the 
 king might not be held in ignorance of their opi- 
 nions, and the true state of his affairs in the West. 
 
 Shortly after this sulijcct had been discussed, the 
 Cornish trained bands arrived in Tavistock ; they 
 were above two thousand in number, and had 
 marched up, many being taken from the mines, in 
 good healtli and spirits, and willing to match their
 
 XXXIII.] THE GREAT REBELLION. 45 
 
 enemies on tlie first simimons to the field. The 
 arrival of these men cheered the hopes of the royal 
 party, and they were received with every welcome. 
 
 Again the council of Tavistock resumed their 
 deliberations ; when it was strongly urged by the 
 majority, that the prince should forthwith lead the 
 Cornish trained bands and his own guard (then 
 stationed near the towai) to Totness, where a maga- 
 zine should be formed of all ifiecessary provisions, 
 and certain money and stores, collected in Cornwall, 
 be forwarded by sea, and conveyed thence to this 
 new treasury against a time of need, after relieving 
 the present wants of the royalists. Totness, too^ 
 was considered a convenient town whence the prince 
 might join his adherents at Exeter; and should the 
 rebel army endeavour to intercept him, the dis- 
 tressed garrison of the city could then quit their 
 stronghold, in which they had been literally held 
 prisoners, and relieve themselves at such a juncture. 
 The prince might retreat or engage, as his interests 
 and the position of his aifairs should render it most 
 advisable. These deliberations, and the intelli- 
 gence forwarded from various parts of the country 
 to the councillors, occupied some days, and were 
 not hastily dismissed. We have a tradition here, 
 likely enough to be true, that it rained so inces- 
 santly all the time the prince was in our town, that 
 he expressed his impatience at such abominable 
 weather, and the recollection of it never forsook him ; 
 as, after his restoration to the throne, it was his cus- 
 tom to say, did any one observe the fineness of the 
 weather — "Yes. the day is fair enough ; but depend 
 upon it it must be raining at Tavistock." 
 
 The council having determined on their measures.
 
 46 THE GREAT REBELLION. [lET. 
 
 a numerous force was about to inarch forward to 
 Totness, when the news came that the enemy had ad- 
 vanced, and beaten up Lord Wentworth's quarters 
 in tAVO several places. Soon after this, Wentworth 
 hhnself appeared, in great agitation, not knowing 
 the circumstances of his loss in either quarter, for 
 the accounts he had received were certainly ex- 
 aggerated, though the truth was bad enough when 
 fully ascertained. The prince proposed marching, 
 with all his force, immediately to Totness ; but those 
 about him feared that it must have already fallen 
 into the hands of the enemy ; and that after the late 
 disasters, he could not hope to rally his horse in any 
 strength, till such of the troops as had been en- 
 gaged in the late contests should have had two or 
 three days' rest. In consequence of the disorderly 
 retreat of the horse soldiery, it was also found abso- 
 lutely necessary to draw off the blockade from Ply- 
 mouth; so that Tavistock would no longer be a 
 place of safety for Prince Charles. He was advised 
 to hasten on to Launccston in Co?'nwall, and for his 
 further security, to leave the horse in charge of the 
 Devon side of the river. From Cornwall it was 
 proposed he should advance to the relief of Exeter ; 
 that city still remaining besieged and in great dis- 
 tress, being in want of even the necessaries of life. 
 
 The conduct of the retreat to Launceston, and 
 bringing the supplies of food from Tavistock, was 
 intrusted to Sir Kichard Grenville, who performed 
 that duty in so careless and heedless a manner, that, 
 " besides the disorders he suffered in Tavistock by 
 the soldiers," says Clarendon, " a great part of the 
 magazine of victuals, and three or four hundred 
 pair of shoes were there left and so lost." And so
 
 XXXIII.] LIFE OF LADY HOWARD. 47 
 
 ill did Sir Richard conduct himself after this neglect 
 of duty, that the Prince was obliged to commit him 
 to prison in Launceston Castle. In a short time he 
 was removed to the custody of the keeper of the 
 mount in Cornwall, where he was held in durance, 
 till the parliament forces gaining possession of that 
 county, Charles gave him leave to go beyond seas, 
 that he might not fall into the hands of his enemies ; 
 Sir Eichard Grenville's licentious and violent courses 
 having not less than his loyalty rendered him ab- 
 horrent to the godly, whilst his reckless, intriguing 
 and tyrannical disposition had done the most irre- 
 parable injuries to the king's cause during the time 
 he acted as general in the west. 
 
 During the rebellion in the year 1644, the house 
 of Fitz-ford, in Ta^dstock, (then belonging to Sir 
 Eichard Grenville by his marriage with Lady How- 
 ard,) held out for the king. It was taken by Lord 
 Essex, who seized, besides arms, stores and two 
 pieces of cannon, one hundred and fifty persons 
 A^athin the house, whom he made prisoners. It does 
 not appear Sir Richard was himself of the num- 
 ber. Lady Howard (I cannot help calUng her by 
 the name by which she is so universally known 
 in this place) was the A\-ife of four husbands. One 
 more would have rendered her a fit rival for Chau- 
 cer's wife of Bath ; but if all, or only half the stories 
 told of her are true, she must have been a sort of 
 female Blue Beard, not less formidable in her dis- 
 position than commanding in her person and her 
 manners. She was born in Tavistock, nor will her 
 fame be speedily forgotten ; all the hobgobhn tales 
 of later times are more or less connected with this 
 remarkable Avoman, whom they represent as cruel, 
 unfeeling, and wicked, I here pui-pose giving such
 
 48 LIFE OF LADY HOWARD. [lET. 
 
 account of her life, as I have been able to collect it 
 from authentic materials or tradition. 
 
 I do not know in what year she was born, but as 
 she was the daughter of that unhappy young man. 
 Sir John Fitz, who, in the latter part of the reign 
 of Elizabeth, killed the first Slanning of note, and 
 soon after fell on his own sword, we are certain she 
 must have been in existence previous to the reign 
 of James I. ; she v.'as most probably an infant when 
 her father died by his own hand : her mother was 
 Gertrude, daughter of Sir \\'illiam Courtenay, of 
 Poderham Castle, Kt., early married to Sir John 
 Fitz, and early left a widow with this one child, 
 Mary, the heiress of immense wealth. Nature had 
 been no less bountiful to this child than fortune; 
 for she grew up remarkably handsome, was pos- 
 sessed of strong and mascviline powers of mind, and 
 had attained more than the ordinary accomplishments 
 of her sex or her station. She had many suitors, and 
 the first (gentlemen of the West were anxious to win 
 the beautiful and gifted heiress of Fitz-ford. 
 
 Her first husband was Sir Alan Percy, Kt., sixth 
 son to Henry Earl of Northumberland; he did not 
 long survive his marriage ; and she next gave her 
 hand to Thomas, son and heir of the powerful 
 Thomas Lord Darcy, Earl of Rivers. On her again 
 becoming a widow, her alliance Avas courted by the 
 Earl of Suffolk, for his third son Sir Charles How- 
 ard, who won her, but soon died, and left her still in 
 the pride of rank, fortune, and beauty, one of the 
 stateliest dames that fi-equented the court of Hen- 
 rietta Maria, where she cultivated the fi-iendship of 
 Buckingham ; who, as we shall speedily find, exerted 
 his influence with her so as to render her propitious 
 to the addresses of one of his own dependents, Sir
 
 XXXIII.] LIFE OF LADY HOWARD. 49 
 
 Sichard Grenville, whose fortunes he had imder- 
 talvcn to improve. The duke thought a rich wife 
 no small advance towards the work, and tluis did 
 the heiress of Fitz give herself to her fourth, 
 last, and worst husband. There is some mystery 
 attached to the way in which she managed her 
 own fortune in all these marriages ; at one pe- 
 riod, as wc shall presently see, it afforded a rich 
 harvest for lawyers in a regular chancery suit ; when 
 a third party stept in between man and wife and 
 claimed the bone of contest ; yet his power could 
 not have been absolute though he obtained an 
 award ; since her only child, a daughter, being dead, 
 or supposed dead, before her, she bequeathed her 
 estates (Walrcddon and Fitz-ford amongst the 
 rest) to her kinsman, the Hon. Sir William Courte- 
 nay, of Powclerham Castle, Bart. ; and though Fitz- 
 ford was afterwards purchased by the Russell family, 
 Walreddon is the property of a Courtena}- to this 
 day. 
 
 The most considerable notices that I have found 
 respecting Lady Howard, occur in Clarendon ; he 
 docs not mention her by name, but speaks of her, in 
 the first instance, as the rich Devonshire widow who 
 married Sir Richard Grenville ; and lastly, he re- 
 fers to the Suffolk family, with whom she was con- 
 nected by her previous marriage with Sir Charles 
 Howard. These are' proofs sufficient that it must 
 be our Lady Howard, and no other, who has been 
 immortalized bv the o-rcat historian. Clarendon 
 says that Sir Richard Grenville contrived to insinu- 
 ate himself into the favour of the fixmous Duke of 
 Buckingham; and his credit every day increasing 
 with his patron, the favourite, " out of the generosity 
 of his nature, resolved to raise him in his fortunes: 
 
 VOL. III. D
 
 50 LIFE OF LADY HOWARD. [lET. 
 
 towards the beginning whereof, by his countenance 
 and solicitation, he prevailed with a rich widow to 
 marry him, avIio had been a lady of extraordinary 
 beauty, which she had not yet outlived, and though 
 she had no great dower by her last husband, a 
 younger brother of the Earl of Suffolk (Sir Charles 
 Howard), yet she inherited a fair fortune of her o^vn, 
 near Plymouth ; and was besides very rich in a per- 
 sonal estate, and was looked vipon as the richest 
 match of the West."' 
 
 By the fair fortune of her own near Plymouth, 
 Clarendon most likely means the house and estate 
 of Walreddon ; which, though distant but two miles 
 fi'om Tavistock, certainly is not so far from Pl}^- 
 mouth, but that such an expression might be used 
 to point out its situation in the neighbourhood of 
 a large and well-known town. The historian thus 
 continues : — 
 
 " This lady, by the duke's credit. Sir Richard 
 Grenville, for he was now made a Knight and Baro- 
 net, obtained, and was thereby possessed of a plentiful 
 estate upon the borders of his own county, where 
 his own famil}' had great credit and authority. The 
 war being quickly at an end, and he deprived of his 
 great patron, he had nothing now to depend upon 
 but the fortune of his wife ; which though ample 
 enough to have supported the expense a person of 
 ]iis quality ought to have made, was not large 
 enough to satisfy his vanity and ambition ; nor so 
 great as he, upon common reports, had promised 
 himself by her. By not being enough pleased with 
 her fortune, he grew less pleased with his wife ; who 
 being a woman of a haughty and imperious nature, 
 and of a wit far superior to his, quickly resented
 
 XXXIII.] FORTUNES OF SIR R. GRENVILLE. 51 
 
 the disrespect slie received from him; and in no 
 degree studied to make herself easy to him. After 
 some years spent together in these domestic, mi- 
 sociable contestations, in which he possessed himself 
 of all her estate, as the sole master of it, without 
 allomng her out of lier oaati any competency for her- 
 self, and indulging to himself all those licenses in 
 her own house, which to women are most grievous, 
 she found means to withdraw herself from him, and 
 was Avith all kindness received into the family in 
 which she had before married, and was always very 
 much respected. Her absence was not ungrateful 
 to him, till the tenants refused to pay him au}' more 
 rent, and he found himself on a sudden deprived of 
 her whole estate, which was all he had to live on : 
 for it noiu appeared that she had, before her marriage 
 with him, settled her entire fortune so absolutely upon 
 the Earl of Suffolk, that the present right was in him, 
 and he required the rents to be paid to him. This 
 begat a suit in chancery between Sir Richard Gren- 
 ville and the Earl of Suffolk, before the Lord Coven- 
 try, who found the conveyances in law to be so firm, 
 that he coidd not only not relieve Sh Richard Gren- 
 villein equity, but that in justice he must decree the 
 land to the earl, which he did. This very sensible 
 mortification transported him so much, that being 
 a man who used to speak bitterly of those he did 
 not love, after all endeavours to engage the earl in 
 a personal conflict, he revenged himself upon him in 
 such opprobrious language as the government and 
 justice of that time would not permit to pass un- 
 punished; and the carl appealed for reparation to 
 the court of the Star Chamber, where Sir Richard 
 was decreed to pay three thousand pounds to the 
 king, who gave the fine likewise to the earl : so that 
 
 d2
 
 52 FORTUNES OF SIR R. GRENVILLE. [lET. 
 
 Sir Richard was committed to the prison of the Fleet 
 in execution for the whole six thousand pounds, 
 which at that time was thought by all men to be a 
 very severe and rigorous decree, and drew a general 
 compassion towards the unhappy gentleman." 
 
 For some years Sir llichard endured this impri- 
 sonment, which made him the more bitter against 
 his wife : he at length escaped his captivity and fled 
 be3^ond seas. There he remained till the great 
 changes in England having caused many decrees of 
 the Star Chamber to be repealed, and the persons 
 awarded to pay penalties absolved, he came home 
 and petitioned to be heard in mitigation of his case. 
 Before this came on, the rebellion brohe out in 
 Ireland, and Sir Richard Grenville was, on account 
 of his military sldll, sent thither as captain of a troop 
 of horse. As what I have to say of him must be 
 principally confined to circumstances connected with 
 his quarrel with his wife, I shall not follow him in 
 his career either in Ireland or England. When the 
 civil wars distracted this country, and the Parlia- 
 ment became openly rebels. Sir Richard joined the 
 royal cause, and was soon appointed to a consider- 
 able command in the West. His wife inclined to 
 the Parliament, so that one of the first things granted 
 •to liim by the king was the sequestration of her 
 •estates to his own uses. " Upon which title," saj^s 
 Clarendon, "■ he settled himself in her house near 
 Tavistoclv, and took the stock, and compelled the 
 tenants to pay him their rents." If the house in 
 which Sir Richard now made his residence might be 
 Walreddon or Fitz-ford, we are not told, bvit most 
 probably the latter, as it was situated so very near 
 the town. At one period, when the king's affairs 
 prospered in the West, and the Earl of Essex's forces
 
 XXXIII.] MALICE OF SIR R. GRENVILLE. 53 
 
 were dissolved, so mucli was Grenville in favour 
 with the roj'al party, that Charles granted him all 
 the Earl of Bedford's estates (as well as Lady- 
 Howard's and those of the Drake family), by which 
 the abbey lands of Tavistock, and of Buckland 
 Monachorum became his ; and during the blockade 
 at Plyraovith, he resided in the latter place, Avhicli 
 had formerly been inhabited l)y the great Sir Francis 
 Drake. But Sir Kichard Grenville was not a man 
 to possess prosperity with moderation ; he speedily 
 abused all these favours, and liis conduct in a public 
 as well as in a private capacity soon proved that 
 power could not have been intrusted to worse hands 
 than his own. Many of his acts were so notoriously 
 disgraceful, tyrannical, and cruel, that the}- were at 
 length formally brought as charges against him 
 before the Council, where he was especially required 
 to appear in person, and answer for his misdeeds 
 whilst governor of Lidford Castle. One circum- 
 stance of his cruelty deserves here particular notice, 
 as it shows the bitterness and malice with which he 
 entertained any recollection of the past quarrels with 
 his wife. During the time of her proceedings 
 against him in Chancery, she had employed an 
 attorney at law, whose name was Brabant ; he bore 
 the character of being an honest man, and loyal to 
 the king. He lived somewhere in this part of 
 Devonshire. Many years elapsed since the deci- 
 sion of that suit against him, before Sir Richard 
 became a man of so mucli importance by his high 
 military command in the West. No sooner did Bra- 
 bant learn the news of his arrival, than, well knowing 
 he was not of a disposition to forget or to forgive an 
 old adversary, he judged it prudent to keep as much
 
 54 DEATH OF LADY HOWARD. [lET. 
 
 as possible out of his way. Having occasion, how- 
 ever, to make a journey that would take him near 
 Sir Richards quarters, he disguised himself as well 
 as he could, and put on a Montero cap. Sir Ri- 
 chard, who probably had been on the look-out to 
 catch him, notwithstanding all these precautions, 
 received intelligence of the movements of the man 
 of law. He caused him to be intercepted on his 
 road, made prisoner, and brought before him. In 
 vain did Brabant protest that he was journeying 
 on no errand but his own private affairs ; for Sir 
 Richard affecting, on account of his Montero cap, to 
 believe him to be a spy, without a council of war, or 
 any further inquir}', ordered the luckless lawyer to be 
 hanged on the spot; and thus did he murder his wife's 
 advocate, many years after he had committed the of- 
 fence of managing her cause in the Chancery courts. 
 When Lady Howard (for she would now never be 
 recognised by any other name in Ta\'istock) died I 
 do not know, nor where she was buried; though I 
 have heard a vague tradition that she ended her 
 days in great mental agony, at some house she had 
 near Oakhampton, where, also, according to a more 
 common tradition, she now runs every night in the 
 shape of a hound, to perform penance, according to 
 the wild legend before noticed concerning her. 
 There is a story, too, but I am not enough ac- 
 quainted with its detail to repeat it, which says some- 
 thing about one of her husbands (I do not know 
 which) being drowned, whilst riding in liis coach on 
 the day of his marriage, in the deep pool, still called 
 Ficc's or Fitz's Pool, in the river Tavy. This tale 
 I believe to be quite as true as that of the goblin 
 hound, the coach of bones, &c.
 
 XXXIII.] TRADITION OF LADY HOWARD. 55 
 
 The particulars of a story I have now to relate 
 about her, from the careful way in which they ha^e 
 been most minutely handed down from generation 
 to generation, in some of the most respectable fa- 
 milies in the neighbourhood, and from the bad fame 
 and ill character of Lady Howard, I should be much 
 tempted to consider are, if not wholly true, at least 
 grounded on fact. I have been in the room, indeed 
 once slept in it (though I saw no ghost), where the 
 catastrophe of this story is said to have occurred, at 
 Walrcddon House. 
 
 Lady Howard had an only daughter, (I do not 
 know by which marriage.) whose history was in- 
 volved in considerable mystery. She is said to have 
 taken some strange dislike to the child from the 
 very hour of its birth, so that she could not endure 
 the infant in her sight. A lady of some station, who 
 was a visitant at Walreddon and Fitz-ford (for 
 Lady Howard resided occasionally at each dwelling,) 
 observing^ the cruel treatment the child received from 
 her unnatural mother, felt so much compassion for 
 her (as she really feared for the little girl's hfe if 
 she continued where she was), that she caused her 
 to be secretly conveyed from Walreddon to a distant 
 part of the country, where, with every care, bvit in 
 as private a manner as possible, she brought her up 
 as if she had been her own child. Lady Howard 
 felt not at all displeased at the idea of her daughter 
 having been stolen ; and if she had committed no 
 other crime than the cruelty with which she treated 
 her, she deserved her nightly ride in the coach of 
 bones for that offence alone. If the lady who had 
 carried off the infant, spread a false report of her 
 death or not, tradition has not informed us ; but it
 
 56 TRADITION OF LADY HOWARD. [leT. 
 
 positively affirms that years rolled on, and no intel- 
 lip-encc being received concerning her, Lady Howard 
 believed that the vdsh she had often been heard to 
 express was accomplished, and that her danghter 
 was really dead. 
 
 In the interval the child grew up a beautiful 
 young woman, and so opposite to her hard-hearted 
 motlicr in disposition, that she was universally be- 
 loved for her kind and affectionate manners. The 
 friend who had stolen her began now to reflect what 
 a fine young woman she was grown, Avhat an orna- 
 ment she would be to her family, and, as there was 
 no other child, what a pity it would be if Lady 
 Howard died without knowing she had such a pro- 
 mising daughter alive, or without being reconciled to 
 her ; as it was not to be supposed she would obsti- 
 nately shut her eyes to the young lady's merits, and 
 refuse to give up a prejudice so unreasonable as that 
 she had conceived against her whilst yet a cliild. 
 Nevertheless, she knew enough of Lady Howard's 
 character to feel she must be warily dealt with in 
 the matter ; and, after long deliberation, she fancied 
 the most likely way to succeed would be to contrive 
 to introduce the mother to the daughter in a manner 
 that Avould afford her an opportunity of becoming 
 well accpiainted with her merits, without the danger 
 of a favourable impression being prevented by any 
 preconceived prejudices. 
 
 She took the opportunity, therefore, of introducing 
 the young lady to her mother as the orphan of a 
 particular friend ; and so much was Lady Howard 
 delighted with her, that she became fond of her, and 
 expressed a wish for her society. The friend who 
 had brought abovit the meeting felt so rejoiced at
 
 XXXllI.] TRADITION OF LADY HOWARD. 57 
 
 the liappy prospect it had opened for her adopted 
 child, that she judged it best to let the truth bo 
 kno\m ; and on Lady Howard passing- some high 
 encomium on the girl, she told her " that it was her 
 long-lost daughter of whom she had spoken in such 
 warm terms, and that she merited all her affec- 
 tion." 
 
 The words Avere scarcely spoken, when a look ot 
 horror overspread the countenance of the undeceived 
 mother ; her passions rose to a degree of frenzy, and 
 with many dreadful threats, and considerable vio 
 lence, she turned her own child, who implored her to 
 show her but the slightest mark of parental feeling, 
 from her doors. Time again rolled on, and Lady 
 Howard, being advanced in life, her daughter was 
 persuaded to make another attempt to .soften her 
 obdurate heart ere she died. 
 
 Lady Howard was at this time living in her house 
 of Walreddon, and thither went her daughter. At 
 the moment of the meeting, her mother was de- 
 scending an upper flight of large, old, oak stairs, 
 that led to the state apartment on the second floor ; 
 the daughter was ascending the hall stairs from 
 below, which led in the same direction. Seeing her 
 mother thus suddenly appear, she threw herself on 
 her knees on the landing place, and caught hold of 
 her dress, scarcely knowing what she did in such 
 moments of agitation. Lady Howard rushed towards 
 the state room, her daughter still holding her clothes 
 Avith a firm grasp, and passionately imploring her to 
 look on her with pity. At this instant they Avere 
 mider Avhere the folding doors stood partly open ; 
 Lady Howard seized them, and Avith a force so 
 
 d3
 
 58 OTHER TRADITIONS. [lET. 
 
 sudden closed them on her child that her arm was 
 broken between the leaves of the door. The unna- 
 tural mother turned her from the house, and never 
 saw her more. 
 
 What became of the poor gh'l is not known ; tra- 
 dition is silent respecting her fate; but it should 
 seem as if Lady Howard had felt some touch of 
 remorse on her account before she died ; for after 
 bequeathing Wabeddon and Fitz-ford to the Cour- 
 tenay family, there was a certain portion of her pro- 
 perty reserved with a clause, that she gave it to any 
 person who coidd prove herself to be the daughter 
 of Mary, sole heiress of the late Sir John Fitz, and 
 widow of Sir Richard Grenville. The legacy so 
 strangely bequeathed was never claimed. 
 
 We have a tradition here, silly enovigh in itself; 
 but, as it is current, I mention it. The story goes 
 that when Prince Charles halted on his route into 
 the West, after the battle of Worcester, certain di- 
 minutive equestrian figures, formed of pottery, were 
 placed on the house-tops of every dwelling where he 
 sought shelter, in order to denote speed, and give a 
 signal which was well understood by his friends. 
 Tradition likewise asserts that, after Worcester 
 fight, he w^as, for a short space of time, in Ta\4stock, 
 and left the town to seek a refuge in Hayne House, 
 the seat of the Harris famil}^ whence he attempted 
 to make his way to the coast. There may be some 
 truth in the last part of this story ; as, till within a 
 few years, when Hayne House miderwent altera- 
 tion, I am informed, by my intelligent friend Mr. 
 Hughes, that a very secret chamber, of small di- 
 mensions, built apparently Avithin the walls, and en-
 
 XXXIII.] OTHER TRADITIONS. 59 
 
 tered by a softly-sliding panel, used to be shown as 
 the hiding-place of the young prince, afterwards 
 Charles the Second, in his distressing flight. 
 
 At no very distant period, some ancient and ex- 
 tensive premises were pulled down in Ta^dstock, iu 
 order to clear the way for the butter-market. There 
 was an inn attached to them, and near a very old, 
 picturesque archway, which gave entrance to a build- 
 ing whose roof was decorated with the little eques- 
 trian figures before noticed, which the elders here 
 Avould have it were placed up as signals after the 
 battle of Worcester, and that, of course, in the 
 house so signalized, the prince himself lodged. If 
 he really did lodge there, and very possibly he 
 might, I have no doubt it was during the time he 
 underwent the rainy penance, with the Lords of his 
 Council, in the year 1645, before he fled to Laun- 
 ccston, when Sir Richard Gren\dlle left to the town 
 that legacy of old shoes to remember the royal visit, 
 recorded by Clarendon. In the house just named 
 there was a very large apartment, beautifully pa- 
 nelled with carved oak, and a coat of arms of the 
 time of Elizabeth, having the crown between the 
 letters '■' E. R.,"" and beneath, the words " YivatRe- 
 gina." 
 
 These premises were, in parts, much older than 
 the days of good Queen Bess ; they formed, indeed, 
 a wing to those antique buildings said to have been 
 the residence of Orgar, Duke, or Heratoge, of De- 
 von, and of Ordulph, his son. They corresponded 
 with another wing, terminating with the archway at 
 the bottom of Kiiworthy Lane ; but that archway is 
 of the Tudor age, and certainly not older than the 
 reign of Henry the Seventh ; though tliis is a fact
 
 60 OTHER TRADITIONS. [lET. 
 
 which no architect could ever persuade the good 
 people of Tavistock to believe. They will have it 
 that it is of Saxon date. One of the learned of 
 this place once argued the point with me, and I very 
 simply said, " But the archway has the label mould- 
 ing — an ornament which the slightest acquaintance 
 with Gothic architecture will show you (and there 
 are numerous examples of it in this neighbourhood) 
 was common during the Tudor age, nor indeed is it 
 found to exist before that period." 
 
 ^ly opponent stared on hearing the words label 
 ornameiif, and said he had often looked at the gate, 
 and covild not see anything like a label upon it. I 
 soon found he had been lookino- for ^vhat he would 
 certainly never find — viz., an ornament that should 
 resemble, in form and flourish, a label attached to an 
 apothecary's phial ! Gothic architecture assuredly 
 had many whims and freaks, but none, that I know 
 of like this. 
 
 One of the most curious traditionary stories re- 
 specting the days of rebellion we received from a 
 poor mad Avoman of this place, who, in consequence 
 of being harmless, is suffered to go free ; and as 
 this story is also told by those who are in their right 
 senses, I shall mention it, though the poor mazed 
 woman has an undoubted privilege to claim it as her 
 own talc, since it relates to one of her family in 
 former days. The method she took to communicate 
 it to Mr. Bray was not a little singular. She wrote 
 him a letter, and dropped it in the post. This 
 epistle, though it was wild and disordered in several 
 parts, yet showed that she possessed some " method 
 in her madness;" for whilst, among other things, 
 she told him that several gentlemen had given her
 
 XXXIII.] OTHER TRADITIONS. 61 
 
 half-a-crown a-piece, she very significantly added, 
 " Go thou and do likewise." The story she told 
 conccrnin<j her relative in the times of Charles the 
 First, I had heard before from my husband's mother, 
 the late Mrs. Bray, who was a great collector of old 
 tales, of all ages and all kinds. Her version of the 
 story enabled me to comprehend the poor woman's 
 in the letter, which was somewhat confused. I now 
 have thcit letter before me on my desk; it begins 
 thus : — 
 
 " I, then Jenny C s, but thirty-four years 
 
 have been Jenny C be, (meaning she was mar- 
 ried thirty-four years ago,) was born in Crebar, in 
 tlie parish of Tavistock. My mother's name was 
 
 H , and her great- grandfather's name was 
 
 M , the last that served South Sydenham four 
 
 hundred years ; and, on the other side of her an- 
 cestors, their name was S , and he kept a \^'ine- 
 
 cellar at the King's Arms : it was his land in the 
 time of the civil Avars ; and he had a daughter in a 
 decline !" Jenny then proceeds to give, in this very 
 curious epistle, the sum and substance of the tale 
 concerning this •• daughter in a decline ;" but as her 
 version really would require a running comment to 
 make it understood, I beg leave to give the whole 
 story in a more brief form. 
 
 The parliament forces, after the}'' captured Fitz- 
 ford House, made wild work in the town Avith Avhat- 
 cver belonged to the royalist party, or had any con- 
 nexion with the old-established order of things. To 
 this troop of parliamentarians I haA'e always attri- 
 buted the injuries sustained by the monuments. Sec. 
 in our church. I consider them guilty of having 
 rendered noseless Judge Glanville and his wife ; of
 
 62 OTHER TRADITIONS. [lET. 
 
 ha\ing knocked out whatever might remain of the 
 painted glass in the church-lights ; and of doing the 
 same in the vestry, where we know, by the church- 
 warden's accoimts, there was a new painted ^^'indow 
 set up in the days of Richard the Second, and 
 nothing was more offensive to the puritans than 
 such decorations : they made war, indeed, on all 
 saints (as they stood in Gotliic brilhancy, whenever 
 the sun shone out), and showed them no quarter. 
 In a very old and rare book of the doings of that 
 period, which is in Mr. Bray's library, I once read 
 the deposition of one of the godly, made before the 
 sitting committee of county sequestrators, wherein 
 he triumphantly relates how that very many church 
 windows did he, A^-ith his own single hand, demolish, 
 in doing "the Lord's loork ;" and, amongst other 
 feats, mentions his having smashed in a whole row 
 of devils, represented, with "papist idolatry," as 
 stirring up the souls in their fiery furnaces of pur- 
 gatory below, the '•' prime devil of all having a long- 
 tail behind, most shameful to behold in any Christian 
 place of worship." But to Jenny's story; for, some- 
 thing like her poor ^^its, I have been wandering. 
 
 The parliament troopers, kno^^'ing that the honest 
 vintner who kept the A\-ine-cellar at the King's Arms 
 was a rovalist, clctcrmincd that his mne should never 
 more be dra^^^l to pledge royal healths ; and think- 
 ing that the safest way to remove the temptation 
 would be to get rid of the cause, they very soon 
 resolved to wash that down their own throats, and 
 that not a drop of ungodly wine should be left in 
 mine host's cellars after that day. They commenced 
 proceedings, however, by clearing the way above 
 stairs; and 'the spoiling of the Egyptians" ha^-ing
 
 XXXIII.] OTHER TRADITIONS. 63 
 
 become a standard item in the di^^mty of troopers, 
 all were considered by them as such who had any- 
 thingj worth spoliation. Concerning tliis part of the 
 story, my chief authority, Jenny's letter, says, '■ it 
 was havoc-work in the parlour." No doubt it was, 
 and in the kitchen, too ; for mine host was famous 
 for beef and black-puddings ; which reminds an his- 
 torian, so circumstantial as myself, of those lines of 
 Butler,— 
 
 " And fat black-puddings, proper food 
 For warriors who delight in blood." 
 
 The daughter of the vintner was, poor thing, in 
 a consumption ; but being a girl of spirit, and her 
 mind remaining in firmer condition than her bod}'^, 
 she bethought herself, when she heard what was 
 going on, whether or not her Avasted and ghastly 
 appearance might not be made of service at this 
 crisis. So she resolutely snatched up, neither dag- 
 ger nor poniard, thovigh she was about to play the 
 heroine, but — a white table-cloth; and as all spirits, 
 real or otherwise, never walk but in white robes, the 
 table-cloth made a magnificent mantle for a ghost 
 of the very first order. Thus attired, she stole down 
 stairs, and took her post in the dingy confines of an 
 old M-ine-cellar, situated at the extremity of a long, 
 narrow, formidable, and very-ominous-dark passage. 
 (By the wa}', I am aware compound adjectives are 
 now much in vogue in subjects connected with gran- 
 deur and sviblimity ; pray, therefore, admire, as you 
 are a critic, the construction of the above sentence ; 
 you AA-ill not meet with such every day.) Now the 
 vintner's daughter, though she was no ghost, looked 
 very like one, and placing herself against the cellar 
 door, she stood, '' Hke patience on a monument,"
 
 64 
 
 OTHER TRADITIONS. [lET. 
 
 smiling at her own device to cheat the troopers. 
 These she speedily heard making their way down 
 the steps; she groaned a groan, and stood still. 
 The corporal, who headed the marauding party, 
 started at the sound, and his eye caught the pale, 
 thin, white, and shadowy figure that, in a motionless 
 attitude, stood Avith upraised and menacing hand 
 before the door. " AVhat the devil is that ?" said 
 one of the fellows. '•' Swear not at all," said the 
 corporal, " for maybe yonder is the devil's dam, who 
 may take offence at thy familiar oaths." " De\il or 
 no devil," said the first speaker, " I Anil send a shot 
 at the white mark." He raised his pistol, and took 
 a steady aim at the vintner's daughter. She neither 
 moved nor spoke, such was her resolution. " Do 
 not fire," said the corporal, " the figure mocks thy 
 attempts, do not strive with spirit, for yonder tiling 
 is neither flesh nor blood ; let us be gone from this 
 place, or something may happen." "Now I look 
 again," said another trooper, '• I see it is a ghost ; 
 the Lord have mercy upon us ! I will sing a psalm;" 
 and with that he began to shake, and quavered out 
 a few tremulous notes of some most godly stave. 
 At the hearing of this the ghost was moved, and 
 making as if she would advance upon the whole 
 party, she sent every mother's son of them flying 
 Avith fright ; up the steps they ran, much faster than 
 they had descended. The cellar escaped rifling; 
 the house Avas instantly abandoned ; nor did they 
 even stay to carry off" the booty they had collected 
 above stairs. These arc the particulars of the story 
 of Jenny's grandmother's great grandfather's daugh- 
 ter, in the days of Charles I. She adds, in her 
 letter, that " the young Avoman, avIio shoAved such
 
 XXXIII.] CURIOUS VERSES. G5 
 
 resolution, died" — I suppose she means of the con- 
 sumption that so well fitted her to perform the part 
 of a ghost in the presence of the troopers. 
 
 The following- curious piece in verse I insert here, 
 because, though I know not the author's name, I 
 have heard it is considered to be the composition of 
 a schoolmaster of this town, who held that office 
 towards the latter part of the reign of Charles II. 
 If this is true or false, I cannot determine ; but of 
 the poet we may venture to say, Avhocver he might 
 be, the same as Fuller said of Scaliger, that he is one 
 who writes " as if he rather snorted than slept on 
 Parnassus, for his verses sound better to the brain 
 than to the ear." A very rare old printed copy of 
 them, on a large sheet of paper, like a bill stuck 
 against a wall, has been lent me by Mr. Crapp, of 
 tliis town. Here is the copy. Our chronicler in 
 rhyme calls this production of his muse 
 
 " A PANEGYRICK POEM; 
 
 TAVESTOCK'S ENCOMIUM."' 
 Within this couutie's bowels lies a moor, 
 Of old calFd Dart, down from whosie mountains roar 
 Combining fountains, which without delay 
 ToK'ardes the ocean do their streams display; 
 And (as if over-tired) make their graves 
 Betwixt the northern and the southern waves. 
 Wes', and beneathe this dismall forest lies 
 A fruitful vale, in form tiiangle-wise, 
 "Wherein stands Tavkstock, whose glorious state 
 Hath much been dark'ned by tlie checks of Fate. 
 But yet her Abbies and her mon'ments' story 
 Arc strong asseitors of her ancient glor}- ; 
 Trading (the life of places) here's to jiull 
 The finest locks of all the Cornish wool. 
 This into yarn, her people doth convert, 
 AVhich other tradesmen otherwhere impart.
 
 66 CURIOUS VERSES. [lET. 
 
 To make those famous serges, which are hurled 
 
 By ship from England through the boundless world : 
 
 Yet not the meanest part of wool there brought, 
 
 Is by herself into fine Kersies wrought, 
 
 Whose noted goodness in the strength and wear 
 
 Need not the passport of the Aulniger. 
 
 Her suburbs or precincts six miles do stretch, 
 
 Upon the east and westward four do reach, 
 
 One mile towards the south she branches forth 
 
 And claimeth two miles straight upon the noith ; 
 
 Abounds with tythings and fair villages. 
 
 Woods, waters, pleasant groves and tillages ; 
 
 Her grazing pasture, Carmel-like for feeding. 
 
 Her mountain's top like Bashau hills for breeding. 
 
 Her earth is fruitful, and her ground is free, 
 
 To lend all sorts of grain to industry. 
 
 So fam'd for leeks and onions in this isle, 
 
 As if she suck'd her fat from Egypt's Nile, 
 
 Her well-filled channels for the people's use 
 
 Through every street their christal streams diffuse, 
 
 Those (pallisadoed with revengeful power) 
 
 The stony pavements do most neatly scour ; 
 
 Nor are they barren, for her shallowest brook 
 
 Affords rich matter for the angler's hook, 
 
 Salmon, trout, peal, and other luscious fish, 
 
 With her's no dainty, but an usual dish. 
 
 Store likewise of all fennish fowl do swim 
 
 In winter time upon sweet Tavy's brim ; 
 
 And other kind of covies fly and hop 
 
 From each valley to each mountain's top ; 
 
 Her fields and woods yield likewise noblest game. 
 
 With hound and hawk the hunters range the same, 
 
 To start the hare, and rouse the fallow deer, 
 
 Pursue the fox with ho ! see ho ! see here. 
 
 Her air without is wholesome, and withia 
 
 Her bowels stored with choice copper and tin * ; 
 
 But yet observe her more transcendent worth, 
 
 Her happy soil hath nurtured and brought forth 
 
 More noted men than all their bordering towns, 
 
 Or any one place in Britannia's bounds, 
 
 Whose names have been and are of such account 
 
 They've triumph rode from Berwick to the Mount, 
 
 * One of the four stannaries of Devon.
 
 XXXIII.] CURIOUS VERSES. 67 
 
 Upon the wings of fame for poetry, 
 
 Profoundest law, and school-divinity. 
 
 Rhetorick, gosple preaching, and such parts 
 
 As are most proper to the sons of arts. 
 
 Go to the Inns of Court, and there demand 
 
 Who most renowned amongst the gown-men stand ? 
 
 Who could unfold the enigmas of the law, 
 
 Resolve thy doubts, find or correct a flaw, 
 
 Who most employ'd among the sages were, 
 
 At Common Pleas, King's Bench, or Chancery bar, 
 
 Whose chambers most the thronging clients ply'd, 
 
 They'll name three men brought up by Tavy's side*. 
 
 Go to our Oxford University, 
 
 Ask who is best skilled in divinity, 
 
 Who hath the fathers or the school-men read. 
 
 They'll single out a man at Tav'stock bred f. 
 
 Enquire agen iu whom there may be found 
 
 Galen and Paracelsus' virtues bound. 
 
 Whose physick seldom due success did want, 
 
 And thou'lt assigned be to a Tav'stock plant |. 
 
 Thence walk into our great Metropolis, 
 
 Demand for preaching who most noted is, 
 
 Whose notions are most quaiut, and whose great pains 
 
 Are most enamelled with rhetoric strains. 
 
 Ask who for those things hath the lawrell won, 
 
 And they'll assure thee 'tis a Tav'stock man §. 
 
 Go ask the famous poets of our times 
 
 Who best could fancy in seraphick rhimes, 
 
 Whose muse drank deepest at Font Hellicon, 
 
 They'll tell Tav'stock Browne's profundly done||. 
 
 * The author of this piece has the following notes, printed on the 
 side of the verses, explanatory of his allusions to the great men in 
 question. Note 1. is — " John Glanville, Serjeant at Law, one of the 
 judges of the Common Pleas. Sir John Glanville, Kt. his son, 
 Serjeant at Law. Sir John Maynard, Kt. Serjeant at Law." 
 f " Dr. Joseph Maynard, late Rector of Exon Coll. Oxon." 
 + " The worthy Peter Elliot, Doctor of Physick, Oxon.'' 
 § The author says in his note, — "The Rev. Dr. Calamy, London, 
 hath enjoyed this man's labour more than 20 years." This would go 
 far to prove that the poem was written in the time of William and 
 Mary ; as Benjamin Calamy (here alluded to) served long in London, 
 and there died in their reign. Sherlock preached his funeral sermon. 
 I have found no other authority than this poem for his being a Tavistock 
 man. I have, therefore, not included Calamy in our biography. 
 (1 "Thomas Browne, born in Tavestock."
 
 68 ANClEiNT WORTHIES. [lET. 
 
 Go coast Great Britain's Isle, and in each creek 
 Among the noble sons of Neptune seek 
 Who, has swam farthest in the liquid seas. 
 Or who first ranged the world's antipodes : 
 Who round about the world's vast globe did roll, 
 Even from the arctick to the antarctick pole ; 
 They will with one consent this verdict make, 
 'Twas our immgutai. mortai., Tav'stock Drakf. *. 
 Get also 'mongst great Mars his thundering crew, 
 And all his warlike champions over view, 
 Search whether can be found again the like 
 For noble prowess to our Tav'stock PiKEf, — 
 In whose ri.'nowned never-dying name 
 Live England's honour, and the Spaniard's shame ; 
 Advance then, Tav'stock, and no longer lye 
 Enrolled in sheets of such obscuritj'. 
 May generations on thyself insert 
 Proportion'd honour to thy great desert; 
 And when that Envy dare to wound thy fame. 
 Let her grow leaner by thy rising name. 
 
 Having now given j^oii this very curious encomium 
 on our town, I will not venture to add a word more 
 in its praise. I am sorry I do not know the name of 
 the ingenious author, who took so much pains to 
 record the fame of his native place, as he really de- 
 serves to be remembered ; but all the efforts I have 
 made to discover it have proved vain. He certainly 
 might be styled our Laureate ; and but for his poem 
 we should never have known that Ave had such a 
 "Tav'stock plant" as the "worthy Peter Elliot, 
 Doctor of Physic,'' nor that "Dr. Joseph Maynard, 
 of Exon Coll., Oxford" was also "Tav'stock bred." 
 I doubt the author's correctness about Calamy, and 
 
 * Note three says, — '• The renowned heroe, Sir Francis Drake, bo: n 
 at Crowndle in Tavestock." 
 
 f Noie four states, — " Captain Richard Pike, who fought three 
 Spaniards at once, chosen out of an army of six thousand, and beat 
 them." This must have been the famous Captain Pike, whose name 
 so often occurs in the voyages of Drake.
 
 .XXXIII.] ANCIENT WORTHIES, 69 
 
 tlioiig-li I have taken much pains to satisfy that doubt, 
 hitherto I have been unsuccessful. Benjamin Ca- 
 lamy was the son of the nonconformist, and came 
 into the Estabhshcd Church; he is spoken of by 
 Sherlock as eminent for his piety, learning', and 
 eloquence ; but where he was born is not stated. 
 I have the honour to remain, 
 My dear Sir, 
 Very respectfully and trulv vours. 
 
 A.' E. Eray.
 
 "70 [let. 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 • 
 
 Contents.— Maristow ; its ancient church— Saxon church and font 
 
 Tomb of Sir Thomas Wise ; mutilated in the civil wars— Country 
 about Maristow very beautiful — Sydenham House ; it lies in a 
 valley — The picturesque bridge— Delightful woods— The house — 
 Interior courts— Arms uf Wise— The gable injured by modern win- 
 dows — The old gentleman who was the former proprietor of Syden- 
 ham — Large room— The Banquet-room ; injured by the carved oak 
 being painted over— The hall small and low— Sydenham garri- 
 soned for King Charles— Taken by Col. Holboiirn in lf,45— The 
 left gable in a ruinous condition— The family injured by the fines, 
 imprisonments, and sequestrations, the consequences of their loyalty 
 to the unfortunate king — Great staircase — The upper rooms — The 
 old pictures — Nine daughters of Sir Thomas Wise ; represented all 
 beauties — Very curious and interesting portrait of the stately Lady 
 Mary Gary — Pictures injured by cleaning — Portrait of the sister of 
 the famous rebel, Mr. St. John — Portrait of the gallant Col. Arthur 
 Tremaiue— Portrait of Bridget Hatherleigh, heiress of Sydenham, 
 and wife of Ihe Colonel— A very clever picture, being the portrait of 
 a lady, and probably painted by Sir Peter Lely— Splendid red bed, 
 temp. Charles I.— Furniture curious— Cabinets— The chamber re- 
 minds the writer of a romantic traditionary tale of the time of the 
 civil wars — The tale told — Hangings, arras, &c.— Magnificent horse 
 furniture for the sheriff's lady in the olden time— The shifting 
 panel— The secret door — The concealed staircase ; to what it leads 
 — Eccentricities of the old gentleman, tlie late Mr. Tnmaine— An 
 account of the discovery of some most curious and original letters 
 of the great Sir Bevil Grenville at Stow House, Cornwall— Mr. 
 D'Israeli written to concerning them — His answer — Report of their 
 being destroyed — Amusing anecdotes of the old gentleman — Story 
 of Fuseli's night-mare, &c. — Arms of Tremaine — Antiquity of the 
 family— Twin brothers in the time of Elizabeth — Story of twin sis- 
 ters of the present day — Lamerton church noticed — CoUacombe 
 House; ancient seat of the Tremaincs — Old monuments — Rowe, 
 the poet, said to be born at Lamerton— A Tremaine founded an
 
 XXXIV.] MARISTOW. 71 
 
 hospital at the west end of Tavistock, temp. Richard II. — Thomas 
 Tremaine, the father of sixteen children — Edmund, the second son, 
 followed the fortunes of Edward, Earl of Devon — He suffers with 
 his master ; is racked in the tower to discover the secrets of Eliza- 
 beth in Mary's time — Rewarded for his zeal, patience, and courage 
 on the maiden queen's accession to the throne — Romantic and in- 
 teresting particulars respecting the twin brothers, Andrew and 
 Nicholas Tremaine — Their habits, feelings, affections, and pursuits 
 the same — They volunteer to join the English forces in France — 
 Fall before Newhaven in 1563 — Their epitaph — Excursion to Me- 
 vej- — The church — The antique oak — Broken base of a cross — Old 
 house — Ancient character of the houses and cottages around — 
 Swarm of children — Set off for Sheep's-tor — Up-hill road — Au- 
 tumnal effects — Beautiful scenery — Fagging walk — A striking scene 
 — An attempt to give some idea of it in description — Arrive at the 
 village of Sheep's-tor — Inquire the way for the palace of the Pixies 
 — Visit the church ; an ancient building — The school-house ; a 
 peep into it — Reflections suggested by a visit to the church-yard — 
 A beautiful passage on the village church and church-yards ex- 
 tracted — Set off for the Pixies' house — The road to it presents scenes 
 of great grandeur and beauty — Character of Sheep's-tor; its blocks 
 of granite, &c. — A beautiful peasant girl becomes guide to the 
 Pixies' house — Handsome women and children at Sheep's-tor — 
 Women of Cornwall and Devon remarkable for beauty — The Pixies' 
 house described — Difficult and dangerous of access — Attempt to 
 climb to it amid the rocks — Obliged to give up the attempt on 
 account of the difficulty — Return by a shorter road — Pass an old 
 house — Reach Mevey — Melancholy and affecting circumstances 
 attending the death of two persons, by cholera, at Sheep's-tor, 
 in 1832. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, March 5th, 1832. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I PURPOSE in this letter giving you some 
 account of an excursion we made in the autumn of 
 1831, to a very interesting old house in this neigh- 
 bourhood ; and one that deserves notice in an his- 
 torical view, as, during the great rebellion, it was 
 gallantly defended in support of the royal cause. 
 In our way to Sydenham, for so is the old house
 
 72 MARISTOW. [let. 
 
 called, we visited the church of Maristow, which is 
 beautifully situated on a hill, with a range of fine 
 and venerable lime-trees in front of the sacred 
 edifice. There cannot be a doubt this building is 
 of great antiquity, as we observed above the interior 
 doorway, that leads from the porch into the body of 
 the church, a Saxon arch. I have no doubt it was 
 the remains of the original entrance. This curious 
 arch was deeply buried in whitewash. The font 
 is also Saxon, and of very rich and singular work- 
 manship. 
 
 In the church we found an elaborate but heavy 
 tomb of Sir Thomas Wise, Kt., and his lady (Sir 
 Thomas was the builder of Sydenham), temp. Charles 
 I. The effigy of the knight, the size of life, repre- 
 sents him in armour, lying under a canopy, with his 
 wife by his side. The female head is very charac- 
 teristic ; amd has that fleshy appearance considered 
 by artists as forming so great a merit in the works 
 oi' the chisel. What a pity her nose has been 
 knocked off! I saw no inscriptions; but when I 
 recollected this tomb had been erected in the days of 
 the unfortunate Charles, and that the church was 
 near Sydenham house, I felt quite certain tliat the 
 violence evidently employed in its mutilation had 
 been the handywork of the Covenanters; and I 
 thoutrht of Clarendon and Sir Walter Scott, who 
 have immortalized the days of rebellion. The hands 
 of both figures had been knocked off; and oh, mon- 
 strous misappropriation ! some wise modern, wish- 
 ing to repair the damag(% had not only made tlie 
 small mistake of placing the large rough hands of 
 the good knight on the lady ; but had also joined 
 to, and decorated his stumps with her slender and
 
 XXXIV.] SYDENHAM. 73 
 
 delicate fingers I We saw the figures of the children 
 round four sides of the tomb ; these were all statues 
 placed on a deep ledge. They had also not been 
 spared in the war made upon the church. At the 
 back of the monument (for the faces of the two 
 principal recumbent figures look to the east) there 
 were seen kneeling, facing each other, a youth and 
 a damsel praying at a desk. These effigies were 
 likewise in the dresses of the time of Charles I. 
 There were, also, on the ledge, two cradles in 
 marble, with infants in them ; the babes being at- 
 tired in the richest lace, which Avas most delicately 
 carved; and there was another little child repre- 
 sented sitting in a chair, and dressed in lace from 
 head to foot. The cradles Avcrc square in shape, 
 and not made to rock; the children were all as 
 chubby as young cherubs are usually represented. 
 
 On quitting the church, we continued our ride 
 through a wild, hilly, and picturesque scene, till we 
 arrived at Sydenham, the object of our journey. 
 This most interestiuE^ old house was commenced in 
 the time of Elizabeth, and finished in that of James 
 I., by the knight whose effigy is above described. 
 The plan of the house forms the letter E, a com- 
 pliment often paid by builders to the maiden queen. 
 Sydenham lies in a valley ; a clear stream runs in 
 front of it, leaving space for the road. Over this 
 stream there is a bridge, above which, arising from 
 the banks, hang some fine old trees. On crossing, 
 the road runs u.p a very steep hill, through a thick 
 wood of such beauty, that nothing more delightful 
 in its kind can be found in Devon. It is to be la- 
 mented that a portion of this noble wood Avas felled 
 by the late possessor, who thus turned the pictur- 
 
 VOL. III. E
 
 74 SYDENHAM. [lET. 
 
 esque plantations of his forefathers into money; 
 and truly he could have had no love of old trees, 
 for he actually chose for his lopping the very spot 
 that is seen from the house. This is now replanted ; 
 hut years must pass away before it can regain any- 
 thing like its original aspect. The high lands in 
 the immediate vicinity of this princely domain are 
 beautiful in their forms, and, for the most part, 
 richly clothed wth wood. 
 
 Before the house, which is surrounded by a wall, 
 a pair of very high and open-worked iron gates 
 give access to the interior of the court. There the 
 entire front of the extensive range of buildings 
 presents at one view a magnificent example of the 
 domestic architecture of the age of Elizabeth. Above 
 the centre doorway, to which you ascend by a flight 
 of steps, is seen, Avithin a niche, the arms of Wise, 
 carved, painted, and gilt. The picturesque gables 
 that project from the body of the mansion to make 
 the shape of the letter E, the mullions that support 
 the windows, the grey colour of the stone, the mas- 
 sive, but not inelegant, architecture, all strike the 
 eye of the visitant, and excite so much admiration, 
 that one cannot but regret the days are gone by 
 when such a house as this was the distinguishing and 
 necessary possession of every old English family in 
 the country. I was not a little vexed to find that 
 the ofable, to the rio'ht hand as we entered, had been 
 despoiled of its bcautifid old windows, and common 
 modern sashes substituted ! Those removed (judg- 
 ing from what was left in the opposite and cor- 
 responding gable) had been very large and hand- 
 some, indeed beautiful in their construction, and 
 must have been quite as wann ; so that there was no
 
 XXXIV.] SYDENHAM. 75 
 
 accounting for the change, excepting that it must 
 have been a whim of a certain old Mr. Tremaine^ 
 the father of the late possessor of Sydenham, who 
 was born in the year 1708, and died in 1808. He 
 certainly entertained a particular dislike to every- 
 thing in true taste, or as it originally stood ; for this 
 old gentleman it was who actually took the trouble 
 not only to alter the Avindows, but to paint a magni- 
 ficently carved oak staircase with the colours of pink 
 and white ! A large room, called the banquet- 
 room, likewise carved in oak, in a way to excite 
 admiration, and most tastefully gilt in various parts, 
 so as to relieve the dark brown of the oak in the 
 carving, he caused to be buried in common house- 
 paint ; and had the massive granite chimneypiece, 
 in the great hall, painted likewise ! I would have 
 assigned to this Avorthy a paint pot for his arms, with 
 two brushes proper, by way of supporters. Yet I 
 ought to speak very reverently of him, for he was 
 the father of my husband's godfather. 
 
 On entering, I was somewhat disappointed in the 
 hall ; it is built too low for such a mansion. Several 
 coats of arms, painted and gilt, but not by the old 
 gentleman, adorn its sides. This hall bears the 
 date of 1658, the time the house underwent some 
 repairs ; no doubt they were needed after the ci\^ 
 wars. Sydenham was garrisoned for King Charles, 
 and taken by the Parliament forces, commanded by 
 Colonel Holbourn, in January, 1645. One gable of 
 the house is in a very ruinous condition ; we were 
 told it had never been finished. This we considered 
 a mistake ; and that the ruinous state in which it is 
 now seen was most probably the consequence of the 
 siege it underwent in behalf of royalty. It is very 
 
 e2
 
 76 PAINTINGS AT SYDENHAM. [lET. 
 
 likely the family to whom it belonged could not 
 afford such extensive repairs as were required to re- 
 store the building to its original condition ; since the 
 Kestoration found them poor, having suffered severely 
 by fine, sequestration, and imprisonment; favours 
 \vhicli the liberty men of Cromwell's time were par- 
 ticularly free in conferring upon all those who feared 
 God and honoured the King after the old fashion. 
 I never can believe that a man so costly as Sir 
 Thomas Wise should build this house, live to see it 
 finished, and bequeath it to his son Edv/ard, and 
 leave one gable of it imperfect in the interior ; the 
 very carved doors, Avhich still hang decaying on 
 their rusty hinges, contradict the assertion : it is far 
 more likely that the Parliament troopers made wild 
 work in the house ; or that this gable had been con- 
 verted into guard-rooms, &c., for stores and ammu- 
 nition ; no wonder, therefore, it was sacked and 
 ruined. 
 
 I saw the place in too hurried a manner (not 
 wishing to intrude upon the present proprietors, 
 who most kindly indulged us with seeing it) to 
 make very minute observations ; but I was particu- 
 larly struck with the great staircase; so noble in 
 its proportions, so richly carved, and lighted by a 
 Avindow above eighteen feet in height. We ascended, 
 and went from room to room above. The pictures 
 were numerous, and of great interest. Nine daugh- 
 ters of Sir Thomas Wise, all beauties, and each 
 painted on a separate canvass, still shone in the 
 loveliness of youth, and in tlie graceful dresses of the 
 time of Charles I., when ladies had not yet shut 
 their eyes to the beauty of the antique statues, nor 
 had fallen into the madness of fancying that a waist
 
 XXXIV.] PAINTINGS AT SYDENHAM. 77 
 
 resembling tlie body of a wasp (a fashion alike 
 destructive of health and of true proportion) was a 
 beauty to be purchased by the squeezing and tor- 
 ture of tight staysj till the very bones are forbidden to 
 grow, and the frame becomes the prey of various and 
 often fatal diseases *. These daughters of Sir Tho- 
 mas Wise are represented with the hair low on the 
 crown of the head, whilst only a few short, thin curls 
 play over the forehead, and hang in full and thick 
 clusters in the neck ; through whose ringlets might 
 be seen, in some of them, the double drop earring 
 of pearl, so common at that period. Several of these 
 heads were really very handsome, and, though not 
 painted by a Vandyke, were far superior to the pro- 
 ductions of the subsequent English painters (Sir 
 Peter Lely and Kneller excepted) till the days of 
 Reynolds and Eomney, when the English school of 
 portrait painting was, in great excellence, revived. 
 
 In another room we saw a picture, though much 
 decayed and without a frame, of great interest. — 
 This represented the stately daughter of the Vis- 
 count Carrickfergus, married first to Sir Thomas 
 Wise (by whose side she rests in the church), 
 secondly to Mr. T. Harris, and lastly to Sir Henry 
 Carew (pronounced Gary.) In the picture there is 
 the grand, self-satisfied, and studied air of a very 
 fine lady (not very beautiful, but liaAing on all the 
 decorations of beauty she could possibly hang about 
 her) whilst sitting for her picture. The dress is of 
 
 * The writer of this letter having herself known two cases of re- 
 markably fine 3'oung women, who, it was proved by surgical exami- 
 nation alter death, had endured the greatest tortures of their length- 
 ened illness, and died from the effects of tight stays, takes this oppor- 
 tunity of adding one warning mure to the foUj-, the madness, the sia 
 of a practice which consigns so manj' to the grave.
 
 ? 
 
 78 PAINTINGS AT SYDENHAM. [lET. 
 
 the time of Charles I., bvit the most gay I ever saw 
 of that period ; and as a proof that she was deter- 
 mined to exliibit something out of the common 
 mode, suspended by a chain and fastened to her 
 bosom, she had, upon a rich lace collar, an enormous 
 watch, that very much resembled a warming pan. 
 This, in her day, Avas a more rare trinket than it is at 
 present ; but I never before recollect having seen a 
 watch so placed in an old picture. She displays, 
 also, a large ring on one of her fingers, on which, 
 according to tradition, there was engraved this posy 
 in allusion to her three husbands : — 
 
 " Thrice happy Mary 
 Harris, Wise and Gary." 
 
 This portrait is altogether so curious, that it well 
 deserves to be framed, very carefully cleaned, and 
 engraved. Cleaning pictures no ignorant person 
 should attempt ; indeed, in this collection, I observed 
 three clever flower and fruit pieces, that had been 
 really beautifully painted, entirely spoilt by the 
 delicate glazing of the transparent colours on an 
 opaque body (the mode generally adopted by Ve- 
 netian artists) having been entirely destroyed by 
 some rude hand in cleaning their surface. I re- 
 gret I had not time to note the names of all the 
 different pictures that struck us as being of in- 
 terest. Amongst others there was a very good 
 one, in the school of Vandyke, probably by a pupil 
 of that great master, which represented the sister of 
 the famous Mr. St. John, who acted so much in con- 
 cert with Hampden and Pym during the rebellion. 
 This lady was, by marriage, connected with the 
 family of Trcmainc, hence we find her picture pre- 
 served at this house. Over the chimneypiece, in
 
 XXXIV.] PAINTINGS AT SYDENHAM. 79 
 
 tlic same lower apartment, we observed the portrait 
 of the gallant Col. Arthur Tremaine, who lived to 
 see the monarchy, for wliich he had fought and 
 bled, restored ; and to wed ^nth fair Mistress 
 Bridget Hatherleigh, who at that period had be- 
 come, for want of male issue, the heiress of Syden- 
 ham. Bridget was granddaughter, in the female 
 line, to Sir Thomas Wise (for liis son Edward 
 died unmarried), and by her marriage v»ith the 
 brave Colonel the house and lands of Sydenham 
 came to the family of Tremaine. The very letter 
 of introduction presented by the Colonel when 
 he came wooing to the young heiress is still pre- 
 served in the house; and I am promised a copy 
 of this very curious epistle. The writer, I under- 
 stand, in introducing the lover, did not mince the 
 matter ; but tells the fair Bridget, that as Col. Ar- 
 thur's lands and her own lie so near together, she 
 earnestly recommends that both estates may be 
 legally made "conjugal." 
 
 How far the lady rehshed tliis reference to her 
 property instead of herself, I do not know ; but as 
 the Colonel's picture represents a fine soldier-hke 
 looking man, one that would speak frankly in love 
 or in war, I dare say she was well pleased ; and he 
 probably thought more favourably of Bridget's 
 beauty than I did of the record of it on the canvass 
 that still hangs near his own. I fancied I could 
 detect a scowl on the brow, and an air of firmness 
 and authority, that told tales of a love of petticoat 
 government. I saw many other old pictures, and 
 heard the names of most of them. There were two 
 or three gloomy-looking Koundlieads : the^' had no 
 business amidst so much loyalty. There was also
 
 \ 
 
 80 CURIOUS ANCIENT FURNITURE. [lET. 
 
 a very clever picture, about the time of Sir Peter 
 Lely, of a lady remarkable for the grace and ele- 
 gance of her form. The name of the painter was 
 unknown ; but from the st^^le and beautiful colour- 
 ing in the flesh tints, I could not help thinking this 
 was a portrait by Sir Peter himself. 
 
 In one of the sleeping chambers there is a most 
 splendid red bed, of the age of Charles 1. It had 
 three prince's feathers, as they are called, \nthin the 
 head of the bed, formed of the same stuff with the 
 furniture. The whole was lofty and elegant, unlike 
 any modern couch, and very low and comfortable 
 for the sleeper. I saw, like\\ise, a great number of 
 old chests; and felt, I confess, a good deal of 
 woman's curiosity to be peeping into them; fancy- 
 ing that possibly might there be hidden some trea- 
 sured narrative, some forgotten papers of the 
 eventfid times that every object in the house 
 brought \d\-idly before the mind. There were In- 
 dian chests too, and old chairs, and rich chased 
 metal tables, and the most costly ancient cabinets, 
 that again set me longing to be peeping — and I 
 thought of the old names by which the little drawers 
 and boxes in such were called, — the shuttles ; and I 
 thought too of an old story that I had once a mind 
 to turn into a novel, about a lady who died of a 
 broken heart, and would never tell the cause — but 
 when on her death-bed, she pointed Avith her hand 
 to the cabinet that stood near, and said, "Lift the 
 scr ;d shuttle," she paused; — and ere she could 
 speak again, the hand of death was upon her. Her 
 husband rushed from the bed; and scarcely had 
 she breathed her last, when he found too truly the 
 cause of her melancholy fate revealed by raising
 
 XXXIV.] CURIOUS ANCIENT FURNITURE. 81 
 
 " tlie shuttle. " Before her marriage she had been 
 beloved by a gentleman of great worth, and, more 
 in caprice than from any real displeasure, had 
 slighted him. In a moment of wounded feeling, he 
 mounted his horse, rushed to the battle, and after 
 standing near Charles I. to the last, fell on New- 
 berry field, covered with wounds. The lady had 
 married an officer in the Parliament forces, and 
 convinced, even on her bridal day, that she could 
 neither forget her old love nor be happy with her 
 new, to whom her father had given her hand, she 
 wrote a letter revealing the secret of her soul, and 
 beof2:ino- to be buried near William. On the en- 
 
 "&o 
 
 velope were these words beneath a black seal : — 
 
 '•' When I am dead and cold, ' 
 
 Then let the truth be told." 
 
 This apartment at Sydenham, its ftirniture, the 
 bed, the cabinet (all of the time of Charles I.), so 
 exactly suited as an appropriate scene for this me- 
 lancholy tale, that imagination in a moment sug- 
 gested the rest of the picture ; and I fancied I 
 could see the dying lady, and the husband, and all 
 the painful circumstances of that remarkable event. 
 What a subject would this tale afford for the mas- 
 terly writer who so powerfully deals in such scenes — 
 the author of the ' Passages from the Diary of a 
 Physician ! ' * In the chamber I am describing, a 
 whole and complete specimen of the domestic fur- 
 niture of the period might be found, even to the 
 elegant toys for the ladies ; such as letter-stands, 
 pincushion, a box for needle-work, &c. The chau's 
 were covered with what is called the cut and double- 
 
 * First published in 'Blackwood's Magazine.' 
 
 e3
 
 \ 
 
 OTHER CURIOUS FURNITURE. [lET. 
 
 piled red velvet, in the most beautiful patterns. I 
 saw also in tliis house, what I had now and then read 
 of in old books, a chamber hung with "watchet 
 hangings." These hangings were of damash, within 
 a frame of oak, and were suspended in the com- 
 partments of the wainscot. It occurred to me that 
 here might be seen tlie distinction between the 
 " arras" and the '• hanffinffs." The hano-ins-s be- 
 ing, as above stated, hung Hke pictures on the 
 walls; the arras (originally a rich stuff, manufac- 
 tured at Arras, in France) being, on the contrary, 
 a piece of long and loose tapestry hanging from the 
 ceiling to the floor, so that any one could slip be- 
 hind it, as did Polonius, when he paid so dear for 
 hiding. There is stUl to be seen at Cotele House, 
 in this neighboiu-hood, a fine specunen of a chamber 
 hung Arith arras. 
 
 At Sydenham we saw too, what I am sure Sir Samuel 
 Meyrick would gladl}- possess, to place in his superb 
 collection of old armour, &c., at Goodrich Court. 
 One of the Tremaine family haA-ing been, to use the 
 old phrase, " pricked do\ni for sheriff of the sliire," 
 his lady, who I suppose on some state occasion was 
 to ride with her husband in his public capacity, 
 had such a set of horse furniture for her palfi-ey, 
 as exceeds in magnificence anything I ever fancied 
 of the kind. It is of red velvet, so beautifully fine 
 and closely woven, that not even the smallest root 
 of a thread could be seen ; and so carefully Avas it 
 preserved, that it looked as if just new from the 
 shop. These housings were made to slip over the 
 saddle, and hang loose by the sides like a horse- 
 cloth. The}' are most elegantly ornamented with 
 the finest silver lace, that appears almost new ; and
 
 XXXIV.] SECRET CHAMBERS. 83 
 
 the crupper, &c., are decorated with a number of 
 silver ornaments representing cockle-shells, chased 
 in the most delicate manner. We saw also the 
 holsters for the sheriff's pistols, and very splen- 
 did they were. The whole of these tilings did not 
 appear to be older than the time of William and 
 Mary : I judge of their age by their corresponding 
 with the like decorations seen in the pictures of that 
 period. 
 
 In the banquet-room, where there was such a 
 magnificent carved oak panelHng (painted wliite 
 by the old gentleman), there was one panel con- 
 trived to open the same as a door, but not ha\TLng 
 the slightest appearance that it would do so when 
 seen closed. This opens to a dark, stone closet, 
 with a flight of winding stau's that leads up to the 
 very top of the house, and is secretly connected with 
 other chambers. For many years it has not been 
 explored, owing to its rmnous condition. This is 
 a pity, for the search might lead to the discovery of 
 sometliing hidden during the civil vvars. How 
 much I should hke, assisted by the light of a torch, 
 to explore these unknown holes and corners of Syd- 
 enham; and to disturb the owls and bats that, I 
 dare say, have contrived through some aperture to 
 take possession. I can well believe that the house 
 might have been searched, even by Cromwell's 
 troopers, and the dark closet and the winding stairs 
 have never been detected. 
 
 Mr. Tremaine, the present worthy and respected 
 proprietor, does not often reside in this princely but 
 decaj-ing mansion. He mherited it by will from 
 the last old gentleman (he dying unmarried), who, 
 though he had never seen him, left it on account of
 
 84 ; MR, TREMAINE. [lET. 
 
 liis bearing the name, and being a younger branch 
 of the family, vdth whom however he had kept iip 
 no connection. 
 
 Tlie late Mr. Tremaine Avas a good man. kind, 
 sociable^ but eccentric. Being single, rich, and 
 having much church patronage, he had many hang- 
 ers-on ; and his house and friendsliip were objects 
 eagerly sought after by the poor clergy, who longed 
 to find subsistence in the solid patronage of a 
 livmg. One of those on whom he had bestovred the 
 latter died before his friend, and he left ^Ir. Tre- 
 maine all he had in the world. Dr. Geach, an emi- 
 nent physician, late of Plymouth, wrote on him the 
 following epitaph, which is certainly somewhat equi- 
 vocal ; for one cannot but perceive that it ma}- have 
 been meant as a compliment to the deceased at the 
 expense of his brethren : 
 
 " Tliis was a j^rateful priest ; his wealth, though small. 
 He to his patron gave, v/ho gave him all.'' 
 
 Whilst we were conversing with the present pro- 
 prietor, that gentleman communicated to us the fol- 
 lowing most interesting circumstance : — 
 
 Some years since, Mr. Tremaine represented the 
 county of Cornwall, and whilst canvassing for votes^ 
 he chanced to solicit the suffrage of a respectable 
 farmer, Avho lived in an old house called Stow, in 
 the county. Stow was once the residence of the 
 great Sir Bevil Grenville, who lost his life in Lands- 
 down fight, near Bath. The farmer had discovered 
 in a lumber room of the house an old trunk ; when, 
 on examining its contents, he found it contained a 
 mass of papers, all of the time of Charles I., and 
 amongst them a variety of orujinal letters: some
 
 XXXIV.] SIR B. GRENVILLE's LETTERS. 85 
 
 addressed to Sir Bevil Grenville ; others, copies of 
 letters Avritten by him, in his own hand. 
 
 Mr. Tremaine told us, that the farmer was a man 
 of a strong mind, naturally inquisitive after know- 
 ledge, and so well had he employed his evenings 
 over these curious documents, that he had made 
 himself familiar with their contents, and showed 
 Mr. T. many of the most interesting. The sub- 
 jects of one or two of these that gentleman re- 
 peated to us. There was a letter by a friend 
 addressed to Sir Bevil, endeavouring to dissuade 
 him from joining the king's cause ; and pointing 
 out the dangers to himself and family that must 
 arise from his doing so. With this was found the 
 copy of Su' Bevil's answer, giving, to use Mr. Tre- 
 main's own words, "in manly language," his reasons, 
 alike generous and disinterested, for the determi- 
 nation he had formed to join the injured king. 
 Another admirable letter was addressed by Sir 
 Bevil to the tutor of his son at Oxford, charging 
 him to hold the lad prepared to follow in the steps 
 of his father, as he was resolved not to withhold his 
 son from doing his duty to God and to the king. 
 Clarendon, if my memory serves me truly, speaks of 
 this 3-outh, and says he was but fifteen years old 
 when he took the field. 
 
 I imdcrstood from Mr. Tremaine that all these 
 letters, so curiously discovered, were highly honour- 
 able to Sir Bevil ; and that they threw some addi- 
 tional light on the conduct of the royal cause in the 
 West. I felt so deeply interested in the account thus 
 given, that I begged to know if it were possible we 
 might be suffered to examine the papers and to 
 take copies. !Mr. Tremaine told me he had copied
 
 86 SIR B. grenville's letters. [let. 
 
 one or two sentences of one of the letters^, wlucli I 
 should hereafter see, but the letters themselves were 
 no longer ^vithin reach ; for as he had talked a good 
 deal about them after his mter^-iew A\-ith the farmer, 
 the affau- came at length to the knowledge of Lord 
 Carteret, the proprietor of Stow, who sent for the 
 whole collection, and removed them to his o\rQ. 
 house. 
 
 On our return from Sydenham, Sir Bevil Gren- 
 ville and his letters still occupied my mind. I knew 
 that ]\Ir. Disraeli was then employed in completing 
 a work so valuable to English liistory, his Com- 
 mentaries on the reign of Charles I. I knew how 
 much that gentleman sought after and valued origi- 
 nal papers ; and I could not help thinking what a 
 prize these would be to liim. I was not acquainted 
 with him; but I thought that circumstance ought 
 not to be of sufficient consideration to prevent my 
 doing what might prove a real service to literature ; 
 and, if the truth must be spoken, my enthusiastic 
 veneration both for King Charles and Sn Be"\Tl 
 GrenviUe made me feel a wish that these papers, 
 honourable no doubt to the memory of both, should 
 be brought forward by one so able to do them jus- 
 tice. This consideration gave me courage ; I pro- 
 cured, from my own pubhshcr, the address of 
 Mr. D" Israeli, and wTote him a letter informing 
 him all I knew of the circumstance, and pointing out 
 where the treasure might be found. I was soon 
 gratified by the most handsome letter of thanks 
 from ^Ir. D" Israeli, who had, even before he an- 
 swered me, set on foot some incpiiry, but had not 
 then met with any friend who could give an intro- 
 duction to Lord Carteret in order to see the papers.
 
 XXXIV.] RECOLLECTIONS OF SYDENHAM. 87 
 
 Surely tlie name and pursuits of one wlio has done 
 so much for Enghsh Hteraturc would have been 
 sufficient. 
 
 On this subject I have only to add, that not long 
 before I commenced my letter to you, I received a 
 piece of information, which I most heartily hope may 
 have arisen from some mistalvc, for doubtless it can- 
 not be true — namely, that these curious papers have 
 been destroyed. If they have not been destroyed, it 
 is to be hoped they ^\ill one day see the light, as 
 valuable documents of the times in which the writers 
 flourished, and Sir Bedl perished, in so good a 
 cause. 
 
 I have heard Mr. Bray relate many circumstances 
 connected with Sydenham, that occurred whilst he 
 insited there when a child. One or two of these are 
 not a httle amusing ; I shall therefore endeavour to 
 repeat them, as nearly as I can in his own words : — 
 
 " The old house, the stories connected with it, and 
 the air of antiquity which every thing presented at 
 Sydenham, made a deep impression on me when a 
 boy ; so that my \dsits there were not a little 
 accompanied with a feeling of awe; and one of 
 them was made in a manner that astonished others 
 as much as it did myself. My godfather (who used 
 at sixty to be styled young Mr. Tremaine, as liis 
 father, who was hA"ing at ninety, was called old Mr. 
 Tremaine) one day brought me from school near 
 Exeter. Our progress was slow, for though liis 
 carriage, in Avliich he travelled, might be called 
 light, yet the roads were heavy and so bad, that the 
 shades of night surrounded us before we got to the 
 end of our journey. My godfather, who always 
 travelled with a servant mounted as an outrider.
 
 8S RECOLLECTIONS OF SYDENHAM. [lET. 
 
 commanded lights ; when, to my inexpressible sur- 
 prise on Avitncssing the preparation, a long pole 
 (stowed somewhere about the carriage in readiness 
 for the purpose) was produced, at the top of which 
 was affixed a large globular lantern, that, on being' 
 lighted resembled a fire balloon, and made a most 
 extraordinary appearance. Mounted and carry- 
 ing aloft pole and lantern, the outrider went be- 
 fore the coach to the end of our journey, causing 
 every "belated peasant" we chanced to meet on 
 the road to fly before us, alarmed at so unusual a 
 spectacle, and very possibly, when he saw it pursue 
 its sinuous covu'se, like a serpent, towards him, ap- 
 prehending more than mortal danger in its ap- 
 proach. 
 
 " I remember two instances of terror that occurred 
 to inc, A\lien a child, at Sydenham, which I con- 
 nected at the moment with tlic marvellous and su- 
 pernatural that filled my head whenever I visited 
 that place. 
 
 "Young Mr. Tremaine had decorated the Avails 
 of an apartment, adjoining the ancient hall, v/ith a 
 print of Fuseli's Night Marc. It represented a 
 horrid demon squatting on the bosom of a beautiful 
 woman asleep upon a bed, and a mare's head was 
 thruslinf>: itself throu<>'h the curtains. 
 
 " To a child the pictvu-e was sufficiently frightful 
 of itself : but in addition to this, as, from the dim 
 light burning in the room where I was left alone, 
 I could only sec its general outline, and stood 
 gazing on it, and thinking of devils and witches, I 
 heard a most ominous noise — stump, stump, on the 
 floor of tlic liall. in slow and regular succession, Avith 
 a slight soft step betAveen each stump, Avithout seeing
 
 XXXIV.] RECOLLECTIONS OF SYDENHAM. 89 
 
 any living being* (thongli the door stood open to 
 the hall) to whom I could attribute such sounds. I 
 was but a mere child, and I dared not venture forth 
 to find out the cause ; yet I well remember the 
 chill of superstitious terror that ran through my 
 veins, and the relief it was to my mind when, on com- 
 municating the circumstance to ray father, as a great 
 secret, he dispelled the mystery by telling me that 
 one of the old footmen had a wooden leg, that he 
 was noted for marching with it in a most solemn pace, 
 and that no doubt his parading through an obscure 
 part of the hall must have made itself audible in 
 the apartment Avhere I was viewing Fuseli's Night 
 Mare with fear and wonder. 
 
 " On another evening the maids at S^'denham had 
 left me, before putting me to bed, in the large old 
 kitchen by myself. A hound, escaped from the 
 kennel, ran in, when immediately I heard a loud 
 exclamation of ' Out, Sir, get out, to kennel with 
 you, out I say !' The dog looked about him, saw no 
 one but myself, a little fellow for whom he felt no 
 fear, and did not stir. But immediately after com- 
 menced, in smart strokes, the smacking of a vdiip, 
 wliich so frightened the intruder, that he hung his 
 tail between his legs, and ran howling off. I was now 
 'almost as frightened as the dog, well knowing there 
 was nobody but myself in the old kitchen, and yet 
 the sounds came from the lower end of it. I took 
 courage to see what it could be that made the noise, 
 when I found, to my surprise, that an animal, of the 
 feathered tribe, was thus exercising an assumed 
 power over one of the four-footed creation, for it was 
 no other than a parrot in its cage, that had thus 
 commanded the hound to tvu'n out by a most dex- 
 terous imitation of word and whip."
 
 90 PEDIGREE OF MR. TREMAINE. [lET. 
 
 These, and many otlaer little circumstances of my 
 husband's childish days connected with Sydenham 
 he has often told me; and I, being very fond of 
 stories, anecdotes, &c., whether they concern adults, 
 old people, or young children, have carefully trea- 
 sured them up, in what I once heard a Turk, who 
 spoke broken English, call liis "knowledge box," 
 meanino; his head. 
 
 The family of Tremaine is of ancient standing; 
 their arms, in some measure, form a rebus of their 
 name ; they consist of tliree united arms %\ith clenched 
 hands; and two hands above support a Saracen's 
 head as the crest. I amuse myself with fancying 
 the origin of these bearings must have been that 
 three brothers fought gallantly in the Holy Land, 
 and, having overcome, by their united efforts, some 
 fierce Saracen chief, they brought his head in triumph 
 to Richard of the lion heart. Hence he gave them 
 their arms, and the surname of Tremaine, as the 
 three hands that had united to do liim such good 
 service in the holy wars. I dare say the present 
 Mr. Tremaine, if he ever sees tliis letter, will not be 
 a httlc amused at my finding an origin for his family 
 arms. But the Herald's College, I have heard, are 
 never at a loss in these matters, when called on to 
 satisfy a doubtful point, so I may plead a very high 
 authority for a trifling exercise of the inventive fa- 
 culty, or, as Butler says — 
 
 " For every why to have a wherefore." 
 
 However, I need not invent cither honours or ro- 
 mance for the family of Tremaine ; the first is theirs 
 by a long line of brave and loyal ancestry, and is 
 still worthily sustained in the present representative 
 of their house. And for the last there is a real story 
 of twin brothers, in past days, that has in it romance
 
 XXXIV.] TWIN SISTERS. 91 
 
 enough for a novel, and proves that Shakspeare did 
 not deal in the improbable when he A\Tote his play 
 of the ' Comedy of Errors.' Indeed I once witnessed 
 an instance of the kind myself, wliich, had I not seen 
 it, I could scarcely have credited. I remember twin 
 sisters, who used, when I lived in town, for years to 
 Bit near me at church, and I could never tell one 
 from the other, if I met either alone ; nor did their 
 most intimate friends know any difference, so mi- 
 nutely, so exactly did they resemble each other in 
 every point. Of these young ladies a pleasant story 
 went abroad ; but if true or not I cannot pretend to 
 say, as I heard it only from the current report of the 
 neighbourhood in which they lived. One of them 
 had been on a visit to a fi-iend in the country, and 
 there captivated a young gentleman, who became 
 her accepted lover. He followed her to town to 
 obtain her friends' consent ; was shown into a room 
 on his arrival, where the other sister, whom he had 
 never seen, was sitting alone, and instantly mistaking 
 her for his betrothed, addressed her as such. The 
 young lad}'-, who had a mind to keep up the joke, let 
 him go on for a few minutes, when the door opened, 
 and in came the other twin. The lover, astonished 
 to find two sweethearts where he expected but one, 
 and not knowing Avhich was the right, felt liimself 
 under the necessity of begging they would be kind 
 enough to tell liim to which lady he was engaged. 
 This story may have its origin in truth, and been 
 improved upon by the voice of common fame, which 
 seldom lessens wonders; but its very circulation 
 where the sisters lived proves how exactly they must 
 have been alike, for such a tale to gaia any ground 
 at aU.
 
 92 LAMERTON. [lET. 
 
 The story of the twin Tremaines is not a whit less 
 ■wonderful, as I am now about to show, on the autho- 
 rity of Prince. 
 
 There is, nearly three miles from Tavistock, a 
 pretty sequestered village called Lamerton ; of which 
 Mr. Kowe was the rector, and where, it is said, in 
 this part of the world (though Johnson says other- 
 wise), his son, the celebrated dramatic poet, was 
 born. A small stream waters this picturesque spot ; 
 many fine old trees, the surrounding hills and valleys, 
 and several thatched cottages, render it altogether 
 a scene of gi*eat variety and most pleasing in its 
 character. The old church, too, has that interest 
 which ever accompanies the Gothic and venerable 
 monuments of past days, when the house of prayer 
 was a house of beauty and repose, and the nobles 
 and wealthy of the land thought it an honour to 
 contribute to the buildino- of the church. It is no 
 Ipnger so ; well, indeed, might Espriella, the de- 
 lightful Spanish traveller, say, " as we think more of 
 ourselves, and less of religion, more of this world, 
 and less of the next, we build better houses and worse 
 churches." In those days, too, the clergy- were held 
 in that reverence which their sacred character and 
 their high mission entitled them to receive from all 
 orders and classes of men ; when the world was 
 Avise enough to be taught the way to heaven by their 
 appointed guides, and did not go about to lose 
 themselves in wandering after every new sect, whose 
 chief merit was a heresy in opposition to the Esta- 
 blished Church. 
 
 In tlie parish of Lamerton is Collacombc*, an 
 old house that for generations was the seat of the 
 
 * In tin; hall window of this house are 3545 small panes of glass.
 
 XXXIV.] MR. TREMAINe's MONUMENT. 93 
 
 Tremaines (in their origin a Cornish family) before 
 the marriao;e of Col. Arthur with Brido-et Hathcr- 
 leio^li induced them to remove their dwellino; to the 
 more splendid mansion of Sydenham. When Ave 
 visited the church, we were much pleased with 
 viewing the old monument there existing of the 
 family of Tremaine. The figures^ in high relief in 
 front of the base, are executed in a very superior 
 style of art, and deserve well to be drawn and 
 engraved, before time shall have destroyed them 
 altogether; for they have already suffered many 
 injuries; and the following tale will serve to show 
 how much a feeling of more than ordinary interest 
 connects itself Avith this old tomb in the little se- 
 qviestered church of Lamerton. If Eowe might be 
 born here or not, he must often have visited it whilst 
 his father was rector ; and I can fancy his eye and 
 heart must have frequently been engaged in con- 
 templating the monument ; for a poet could not look 
 on this silent record of the dead, whose lives had 
 been so marked wdth wonder from the very hour of 
 their birth, and whose mortal career had closed 
 under such melancholy circumstances, Avithout feehng 
 that generous sympathy, that tenderness and pity, 
 the inseparable accompaniments of a poetic mind; 
 feelings, unless sadly blunted and perverted, that 
 add the charm of pure and natural affections to his 
 A'erse. 
 
 But before I speak of the tAvin brothers, I must 
 say a foAV Avords respecting their father and his 
 family. One of his ancestors, in the reign of Ri- 
 chard II., founded an hospital at the Avest end of the 
 toAvn of Tavistock, and dedicated it to St. George. 
 Thomas Tremaine, the parent of the celebrated
 
 94 FIDELITY OF E. TREMAINE. [lET. 
 
 twins, had in all eight sons and as many daughters. 
 Edniimd, the second of this numerous issue, became 
 the devoted follower of Edward Earl of Devon and 
 Marquess of Exeter, and suffered severely by his un- 
 shaken attachment to that nobleman during his 
 many troubles. Indeed, the fidelity and courage of 
 Edmund were put to a hard trial, which he sus- 
 tained vnih noble constancy and resolution ; for the 
 Marc[uess, having been committed to the Tower, as 
 well as the Princess Elizabeth, on suspicion of being 
 concerned in Wyatt's rebelhon. Queen Mary, or her 
 counsellors, thought that young Tremaine must have 
 some knowledge of liis master's affairs. They caused 
 him, therefore, to be racked in the Tower of London, 
 in the hope that he would reveal enough to prove 
 the guilt of the Marquess and the Lady Elizabeth. 
 But no tortiu^es could compel him to accuse the in- 
 nocent, or to betray the confidence of his friend. 
 To the honour of the maiden Queen be it spoken, 
 she did not forget the fidelity he had e\dnced imder 
 such a cruel test ; as, on her accession to the throne, 
 she rewarded Edmund by making him one of the 
 clerks of her Privy Council. 
 
 Nicholas and Andrew, sons of the afore-named 
 Thomas Tremaine, were twins ; they were born, as 
 well as Edmund, at Collacombe House, in Lamer- 
 ton. Prince says of them — " They possessed, from 
 very good testimony, so great a likeness of person 
 and sympathy of affection, as can hardly be paral- 
 leled in history." They were of equal height, and 
 exact form, had the same-coloured hair, and were of 
 such close resemblance in feature and gesture, that 
 they could not be known the one from the other, 
 even by their oaati parents, brethren, or fi'iends. To
 
 XXXIV.] TWIN TREMAINES. 95 
 
 distinguisli tlicm tlieywould wear a knot of difFerent- 
 coloured ribands, and sometimes, in sport, tlicy 
 would change them and their clothes, which occa- 
 sioned many playful mistakes, and produced, per- 
 haps, mth young men in an hour of frolic, scenes 
 that might have rivalled, in their pleasantry, those 
 in the comedies of the Roman and Eng-lish dra- 
 matists. 
 
 So great, indeed, was the sympathy existing 
 between them, in mind as well as body, that their 
 very affections were the same, for they loved or dis- 
 liked the same persons and things, followed the 
 same pursuits, were lively or melancholy at the same 
 season, and, more wonderful than all, if one was 
 be sick, the other was so, though apart, and ^\'ithout 
 any knowledge of his brother's illness. So much 
 did they love each other, that they could not endure 
 to be long separated, and they would eat, drink, 
 sleep, Avake, study, or play together, as if they had 
 but one soul animating two bodies. 
 
 In the year 1.563, these brothers bore arms among 
 the English forces sent into France : the one as a 
 captain of horse, the other as a volunteer. In one of 
 the many engagements near the town of Newhaven 
 (now Havre de Grace), Andrew and Nicholas stood 
 side by side. Throughout their brief military career 
 they had displayed the greatest courage, being ever 
 foremost in the post of honovu' and of danger. On 
 this day they acted with an energy that was not less 
 exemplary to others than it was hazardous to them- 
 selves. At last one of the twins fell; the other 
 instantly took his place, and seemed bent on sharing 
 his beloved brother's fate : no entreaty could induce 
 him to withdraw from so dangerous a station. For
 
 96 MEAVY OAK. [lET. 
 
 some time he maintained it Avith unabated coiirag-e, 
 and at length fell dead on the spot. The monument 
 in Lamerton chmx'h is that of their family; most 
 probably their remains were brought home, and 
 there deposited, as the follo\ving epitaph on Nicholas 
 and Andrew appears inscribed on a tablet of marble, 
 with several rude rhymes to the memory of the same 
 race : — 
 
 " These liken'd twins, in form and fancy one, 
 Were like-affected, and like habit chose ; 
 Their valour at Newhaven siege was known, 
 Where both encoimter'd fiercely with their foes ; 
 There one of both sore wounded lost his breath, 
 And t'other slain, revenging brother's death.'' 
 
 Before I conclude my letter, I purpose giving you 
 some slight account of another excursion in our 
 neighbourhood that much delighted us. It Avas to 
 Meavy. The village thus called is situated in a 
 beautiful valley, watered by a stream so clear, that 
 every pebble may be seen in its bottom. The 
 church, Avhich has nothing remarkable in it, is of 
 plain architecture : its date, I should think, was not 
 earlier than the beginning of the fifteenth century. 
 
 The great ciu'iosity of Meavy is the oak, which 
 stands just without the churchyard; it is a most 
 noble ruin of that king of forest trees. The top is 
 quite bald v.'ith 'dry antiquity;" but from the va- 
 rious branches about the centre still sprout leaves 
 of a beautiful bright green, though when we saw 
 them they were somewhat changed and crisped by 
 the touch of autumn. The trunk of this mighty tree 
 is immense in chcumfercncc, and so hollow, that it 
 appears to be supported by scarcely anything more 
 than the outward shell connected with the roots.
 
 XXXIV.] HEAVY OAK. 97 
 
 This noble piece of antiquity is still imposing ; it 
 looks, indeed, an emblem of sinking majesty, and in- 
 spires feelings of veneration and awe, not unmixed 
 with those which arise from reflecting on the vanity 
 of years ; since Time, whatever be their strength or 
 their continuance, will at last make them, even as 
 tliis tree, fall before him. There is no tradition re- 
 specting the age of the great Meavy oak ; but I 
 doubt not it witnessed the Saxon heptarchy, if not 
 the Roman Conquest ; nor is there anytliing extra- 
 vagant in the supposition, when we recollect that in 
 the survey of Dartmoor (still preserved in the office 
 of the Duchy of Cornwall), and made soon after the 
 Norman Conquest, the oaks in \Vistman''s Wood are 
 described very much the same as they appear at 
 this day*. 
 
 Close to the oak stands the broken base of the 
 cross that is usually found before the entrance to a 
 country church. The school-house, as old as the 
 days of Edward IV., is a most pictiu'esque building, 
 and stands near the churchyard f . There is, too, 
 an ancient over-shot mill in the village that would 
 form a sweet pictvire ; and the half of a house (the 
 rest having been lately taken down) that I well 
 remember when it presented the complete form of 
 the letter E ; it was built in the days of Elizabeth, 
 and was no doubt the manor-house. One remark- 
 able circumstance seemed to distinguish both the 
 village and neighbourhood of Meavy : it is that, 
 excepting one new-built, we did not see a single 
 
 * I am indebted to Archdeacon FrouJe for this curious piece of 
 information. 
 
 f I hear it is quite altered since we saw it, 
 VOL. III. F
 
 98 VILLAGE OF MEAVY. [^liT. 
 
 house, barn, or cottage of a later period than the 
 thnes of Henry VII. and VIII., and Ehzabeth, and 
 many of an earher date. 
 
 The swarm of children in tliis \-illage, all with 
 cheeks as fidl, round, and red as an apple, that 
 grouped together on every step of the broken cross, 
 greatly amused us, and we seemed no less to amuse 
 them. They watched our ponies with delight, 
 laughed as they whisked their long tails, pulled each 
 other as we passed by, and pushed a shy Httle boy 
 forward to bob his head, by way of a bow; and, 
 lastly, they admired our John's new buttons ; but 
 not so my straw bonnet, winch I heard one little 
 girl very audibly Avlusper to another was not so 
 pretty as '-Betsy's Sunday one." We left our 
 carriage, John, ponies, and children, about the 
 oak, Avhilst we walked down to the bridge : it is 
 formed of one high arch that crosses a beautifid 
 river, where we watched the trout plapng about for 
 some time, since, such was the perfect purity and 
 clearness of the stream, we could see them as plainly 
 as if they were gold and silver fish in a glass globe 
 of water. 
 
 We next inquired our way to Sheep's Tor (or 
 Sliittistor, its real name, and as I saw it spelt in the 
 old deeds at Mr. RadclifFe's at Warleigh), and, 
 being directed to follow the road through the Aillage, 
 ■were told that a mile and lialfs walking would bring 
 us to it. We set off, but soon found it was a Scotch 
 mile and a half, with a bittock. 
 
 The -whole of the road was so up-hill, that it was 
 well we had such a succession of beautiful scenery, or 
 I should have been tempted to give way to weariness.
 
 XXXIV.] ROAD TO SHEEP's TOR. 99 
 
 and have lain down by the road side. The pencil, 
 not the pen, must do justice to what we saAv ; and 
 my alternate complaints at the rough stones, the hill, 
 the laboiu' of the ascent, and exclamations of delight 
 about the scenery, exceedingly amused my fellow-tra- 
 veller. The land to the left (on the opposite side of 
 the beautifidly-wooded valley, with its river winding 
 amidst it) presented the finest forms of bold, inter- 
 secting, abrupt hills, each with a granite cro^^^l or 
 tor upon its head. Tired as I was, I could not resist 
 pulling out my sketch-book to mark in their general 
 outlines, as a memorandum. The mellow tints of 
 autumn upon the woods, greens, browns (russet, or 
 taAmy), produced altogether a rich and varied com- 
 bination of colour ; whUst in some places, the leaves 
 being much fallen, we saw distinctly, yet not nakedly^ 
 the ramifications of the trees, then* boles often seen 
 hung with ivy or covered mth moss. At length we 
 came to a pretty ancient stone cottage ; near it there 
 was an old and upright granite cross, about ten feet 
 high. Here two roads branched off, both leading in 
 the same direction (only the upper being much longer 
 and roundabout than the lower), and unfortunately 
 we took the most toilsome of the two, and so pur- 
 sued our way up-hill, up-hill, still faggmg through 
 a road that was made to bid defiance to all tliinsTs in 
 this world but a broad- wheeled waggoU;, or a paii' of 
 Irish legs. 
 
 I thought we should never even get in sight of 
 Sheep's Tor, and we talked of gi^^lng it up as hope- 
 less, notwithstanding we admitted the scenery around 
 us to be well worthy the trouble we had taken ; for 
 we could now command one of the finest views in the 
 
 f2
 
 100 ROAD TO sheep's TOR. [lET. 
 
 whole county of Devon. We saw Lefore us the 
 extensive range of the Dartmoor heights ; the lovely 
 vale of Meavy, Roborough Down, and the waters of 
 the Hamoaze forming the middle distance ; and we 
 actually looked over Mount Edgcumbe and the 
 Cornish hills, and could see the ocean beyond like a 
 sheet of silver, in one broad glitter, reflecting the 
 sun ; whilst the heights in that vicinity, so lofty in 
 themselves, seemed to lie beneath, and, with the 
 upper air, were of one deep ultra-marine hvie. The 
 effect was sublime ; I lost all sense of fatigue as I 
 looked upon it — so much will a strong feeling of the 
 beautiful overcome even the weakness of the body ; 
 and I looked till I longed, with Ariel, " to sail on 
 the curled cloud " over such a scene. But cold 
 reality will at last drive away even the raptures of 
 fancy : we had still a long and toilsome road to 
 trudge through; and so, for lack of wings, I was 
 obliged once more to move on my feet, though they 
 ached sadly with the journey. 
 
 We hailed with hope a little ugly, modern, white 
 cottage, that now appeared in sight. It was but a 
 short distance from the road, yet I could not summon 
 resolution enough to go out of the way one step to 
 it ; but Mr. Bray did, to ask if we were in the right 
 track for Sheep's Tor, and was answered — ^" Yes, Sir, 
 no great ways, only a mile and a half off" !" " Oh, my 
 poor feet," said I ; " but covu'age and Esperanza, we 
 will go on!" So on we went again; still tlie same 
 labour and the same beautiful scene varying at every 
 step before our eyes ; whilst in these elevated regions 
 we breathed an air so pure and keen, that it would 
 have made even the iinest lady eat at least half a
 
 XXXIV.] VALLEY OF SHEEP's TOR. 101 
 
 pound of beef for her dinner ; and I began to feel 
 so hungry, that I regretted I had not had prudence 
 enough to furnish my Uttle basket with something 
 else than a sketch-book. 
 
 At length, on a sudden turn round the hill, a 
 scene presented itself which made even me, pre- 
 pared as I had been by Mr. Bray's account to expect 
 something magnificent, start and exclaim with ad- 
 miration and wonder. No doubt, also, the glorious 
 effects of the sky (for it Avas truly a painter's day) 
 added tenfold beauty to all we saw. There is no 
 describing scenery ; one slight sketch with the pencil 
 is worth a hundred pages of mere description. I 
 again made a rude outline of Avhat was before us : 
 yet I must say something, as my sketch is not suf- 
 ficiently filled up to be of any use as an illustration, 
 though it is a memorandum to myself. 
 
 Below us lay the valley (through which we still 
 had to pass) : it was very close and narrow, and the 
 road abruptly runs up the steep hill beyond : it is 
 skirted by trees all the way to the little village of 
 Sheep's Tor, decorated with its ancient church. 
 This building, and the village itself, when their 
 situation is compared with the mighty Tor towering 
 above them in the background, look as if they were 
 in a valley ; yet the hill to be ascended before they 
 can be reached is truly formidable. This we mas- 
 tered ; and came at length to a small space some- 
 what level, where a few broad flat stones formed a 
 little bridge over a pretty, clear, and gurgling stream : 
 near this stood some old cottages ; and we soon 
 found ourselves in the village. There we vainly 
 endeavoured to procure a guide to what a good 
 woman we talked with called " Fiskie House" on the
 
 102 CHURCH OF sheep's TOR. [lET. 
 
 side of Sheep's Tor. Piskie House is a natural 
 fissure, or narrow cavern amongst tlie roclcs, Avhere 
 Elford the royaUst (and one of the characters of 
 my tale in manuscript*) was said to take shelter for 
 a considerable time, to avoid the pursuit of Crom- 
 well's troopers. One little boy told me he was 
 afraid to go there ; and his mother truly said " That 
 it was a critical place for children." We then went 
 to the church, a pretty Gothic building, in some 
 parts as old, I should think, as the fourteenth cen- 
 tury ; in others, windows and doors had been intro- 
 duced, evidently the work of the sixteenth. Over 
 the doorway, well carved in granite, and placed in a 
 little square niche, was a death's head, with ears of 
 corn sprouting out of the holes for the eyes, no doubt 
 in allusion to the passage of St. Paul. Beneath were 
 these words : " Mors janua \'itaj." Above, " Ani- 
 ma rcsurgat," and " Hora pars \4t8e." ^y looking 
 through the church windows, which Avcre very low, 
 we could see perfectly Avell the interior. A finely 
 carved, painted, and gilt Gothic screen still remains, 
 though much injured by time. There Avas, too, a 
 Gothic oak pulpit. The school-house stands near 
 the sacred edifice ; it is of great antiquity. No 
 creature being in the house, I ventured to open the 
 ponderous, nail-headed oak door, and walked into 
 a little hall. I soon saw all within was quite in its 
 old state, paiielling of oak, &c. ; but nobody being 
 al home, and fearing I might be taken for a thief 
 if any one suddenly returned, I walked out again, 
 not having half satisfied my curiosity for peeping 
 
 * Now published under the title of " Warleigh," &c., a legend of 
 Devon.
 
 XXXIV.] THE CHURCHYARD. 103 
 
 into such vestiges of past times ; and just as I re- 
 treated, a low savage growl that met my ears from 
 the interior made me understand that my visit had 
 roused some Cerberus, who very probably would not 
 have given me so civil a welcome as I might fancy 
 one bent on antiquarian piu'suits entitled to re- 
 ceive. 
 
 I returned to my husband (^dth whom I had not 
 been able to prevail to get him to join me in tres- 
 passing on the school-house) as he stood talldng to 
 one of the villagers in the churchyard. We paused 
 for some little while around the graves, reading 
 the few tomb-stones before we contmued our pro- 
 gress. 
 
 I never can visit a country churchyard without 
 feelings of so mixed a character, that 1 should find 
 it difficult to define them; there is so much of 
 pleasure, so much of melancholy (the most refined 
 of all pleasures) in the mood inspired by the scene. 
 The hope of the li\-ing, the rest of the dead, then fill 
 the mind : we think of the joy of the infant christen- 
 ing ; of the marriage rite ; the bells that summon 
 us to the holy duty on the holy day ; the blessing of 
 prayer and praise to the Father of all good, and to 
 the Son, the author and finisher of our faith and 
 our salvation ; — the rite of burial, that noblest ser- 
 \-ice of a liturgy truly sublime ; the sorrow of friends 
 as they surround the grave, and hear those solemn 
 words, " Ashes to ashes, dust to dust !" which strike 
 with a chill like that of death on the mourning heart, 
 as the poor remains of all that was once loved 
 (better, maybe, than life itself) are consigned to 
 the dark and narrow house, where no sound shall 
 strike on the "dull cold car of death" till it comes
 
 104 MORAL REFLECTIONS. [lET. 
 
 in that dread peal that proclaims the judgment of the 
 earth. 
 
 What subjects are these to dwell upon — what 
 awful thoughts, what deep feelings do they not in- 
 spire ! And who can \'isit a country churchyard, 
 surrounded by all the quiet sanctity of deaths and 
 remain insensible ? If there are those who can do 
 so, I woidd not envy them an indifference which 
 shuts out the most salutary and ennobling feelings 
 of the mind, — those that bring us nearer to God, 
 and to the unseen things which are eternal. But 
 why should I attempt to talk about the church and 
 churchyards, when there is a passage of unequalled 
 beavity on the subject that I cannot here resist giv- 
 ing ? It is one I never yet could read without a tear. 
 
 "The peasant, however much his religious edu- 
 cation may be neglected, cannot grow up without 
 receiving some of the natural and softening im- 
 pressions of religion. Sunday is to him a day of 
 rest, not of dissipation ; the Sabbath bells come to 
 his ear with a sweet and tranquillizing sound ; and 
 though he may be inattentive to the service of the 
 church, and uninstructcd in its tenets, still the church 
 and the churchyard arc to him sacred places : there 
 is the font in which he was baptized ; the altar at 
 which his parents became man and wife; the place 
 where they and their fathers before them have list- 
 ened to the word of God ; the graves wherein they 
 have been laid to rest in the Lord, and where he is 
 one day to be laid beside them. Alas for him who 
 cannot comprehend how these things act upon the 
 human heart * !"' 
 
 * ' Essays Moral and Political ;' Essay the Fourth, ' On tiie State 
 of the Poor,' &c. Vol. 1st, p. 1 12. Murray, 1832.
 
 XXXIV.] THE TOR OF GRA^"ITE. 10& 
 
 We quitted the churcliyard and set off on our 
 road, wliicli wound up the hill crowned by the ma- 
 jestic Tor, the Tor itself producing the most beau- 
 tiful and striking effect when seen in combination 
 with the church. As we rose, so did this mighty 
 object seem to rise with us, and to grow more and 
 more imposing the nearer Ave chew to it. For some 
 way up its ascent grass may be seen, springing from 
 a light soil formed of decayed vegetable matter on a 
 substratum of graiiite. When we reached within a 
 short distance of what might be called the bosom of 
 the Tor, which spread above us in a bold and shelv- 
 ing sweep of about two hundred feet, the granite was 
 totally bare, saving where it Avas here and there co- 
 vered by its coating of mosses and lichens. It hes 
 tossed about in enormous masses in every possible di- 
 rection ; now appearing as if piled together mass on 
 mass, tower above towei-, whilst vast and innumerable 
 fragments lay on their sides, presenting their acute 
 angles in a manner that brought to mind a petri- 
 fied sea of breakers. Of these there are thou- 
 sands and thousands all the way up to the very 
 summit, which is flat or table-formed, and very pre- 
 cipitous towards its southern extremity. On our 
 way up we inquired at a cottage that stood by the 
 side of the road if we could procure a guide to the 
 Pixie-house ; for so many years had elapsed since 
 Mr. Bray visited the spot, that he did not immedi- 
 ately recollect its situation. A young woman who 
 lived at this cottage came out with a fine child in 
 her arms, and very good-naturedly offered to be- 
 come our guide : she said she had been there once, 
 but she did not think I covild reach it, as it was a 
 
 f3
 
 106 JANE LUSCOMBE. [LET. 
 
 rough, dangerous place ; and I soon found she spoke 
 . the truth. 
 
 I never saw a peasant girl, for she scarcely ap- 
 peared to be twenty years old, with whom I was 
 more struck than with Jane Luscombe, for that was 
 her name. She wore hob-nailed shoes, and nothing 
 could be more homely and poor than the whole of 
 her dress. She had no stays, so that her waist had 
 its full size, and every movement of her noble figure 
 was peculiarly graceful. Her head was a study for 
 a painter ; the features regular and delicate, with a 
 deep blue eye that was radiant in its expression ; 
 and these beauties were rendered of the highest 
 interest by the kind^ modest, and good-natured 
 character of her countenance. I would ask no other 
 recommendation for the lovely Jane, as I am certain 
 such a countenance could not deceive : I am sure 
 she is simple, in the best sense of the word^ and no 
 less gentle and feeling. Her complexion was tanned 
 a good deal by the sun ; but where her neckkerchief 
 had slipped aside I saw a throat finely formed of a 
 dazzling wliiteness. I was so delighted with Jane 
 that I almost forgot the Pixie-house, as I enjoyed a 
 pleasure, which has ever been to me one of a ^'cry 
 high order, that of looking on a beautiful human 
 face. 
 
 Jane and I soon became good friends, for I ad- 
 mired her fine baby, as did Mr. Bray, and that was 
 the May to the mother's heart. She told us her 
 husband was a labouring man ; that, in the hope to 
 do better, he was about to remove to Plymouth; 
 she was very poor, and the child in her arms was 
 the youngest of three. Thank God, she said, they
 
 XXXI v.] FEMALE BEAUTY. 107' 
 
 ■were healthy and happy, though she coukl seldom ' 
 afford to buy meat, and she nursed the baby on milk 
 and water. I shall never forget the goodnature 
 with which she jvuided us over rocks and stones, all 
 the while carrying the child, that was no light bur- 
 then, to find out the Pixie-house ; yet such were her 
 feelings, about the kindness due to the stranger and 
 the traveller, that it was with extreme difficulty, and 
 not, till urged and even entreated by me to do so, 
 that she would take anything from ]\Ir. Bray, as 
 some trifling recompense for the trouble we had 
 given her. Nor must I leave the subject of our fair 
 guide without obserA^ng that the very air of Sheep's 
 Tor seems to be fiicndly to beauty : the women and 
 children in the village we had before remarked were 
 very pretty, and had the finest complexions that 
 could be seen ; and Mr. Bray told me that when 
 he asked his way at the cottage, where I felt too 
 tired to go with him, a woman came out and spoke 
 to him whose face was truly beautiful. Indeed many 
 of the peasantry of Cornwall and Devon are distin- 
 guished by their personal attractions more perhaps 
 than in any other county of England. I remember 
 one evening Avhen Mr. Bray, my mother, brother, 
 and self were returning fromCotele, a woman, carry- 
 ing a child and dressed literally in rags, crossed our 
 path ; and judge how striking she must have been 
 when we each exclaimed, immediately on seeing her, 
 " Did you ever sec any thing so beautiful .'*" I re- 
 gret I do not know who she was, as she realized all 
 that even a poet coidd dream of female beauty in 
 a human form. 
 
 To return to the Pixie-house. Aloft amidst the 
 most confused masses of rock, that looked as if they
 
 108 THE PIXIE-HOUSE. [lET. 
 
 had been tossed about by the fiends in battle, m a 
 place which seemed (so it appeared to me at least) 
 as if inaccessible to any mortal creature^ there was 
 seen a somewhat projecting stone like a pent-house. 
 Beneath was a cleft between two low rocks. This 
 is the entrance to the palace of the Pixies, and the 
 cavern where Elford is said to have found a re- 
 treat from persecution. I do not here describe it, 
 having, in the Dartmoor letters, already given you 
 Mr. Bray's account of it. How Elford could live 
 there ; how food could be conveyed to him, or how 
 any living thing but a raven, a crow, or an eagle 
 could make his home in such a spot, is to me, I con- 
 fess, a puzzle ; and had not the paintings on the 
 interior sides of the rocks, executed by Elford, 
 been really seen in these latter days to bear witness 
 to the fact, I should have dovibted the tradition 
 altogether. 
 
 Thinking that if Elford got up thither (and I 
 knew that Mr. Bray had done so many years before) 
 I too could do the same, I ventured up a few of the 
 rocks ; but though I did not fear for my neck, I did 
 for my shins, as the deepest holes (so hidden, too, 
 by soft moss, that they became traps) lay between 
 the masses of granite, in the steep and fearful as ■ 
 cent to the Pixie-house. What with stepping and 
 jumping from rock to rock, Mr. Bray having, as a 
 sailor would say, taken me in tow, and pulled me 
 over one or two that were of formidable height 
 and difficulty (rising one above the other, in their 
 ponderous masses, like a flight of steps), I certainly 
 got somewhat near the spot that had so much ex- 
 cited my curiosity ; nay, having at last been com- 
 pelled to go on all-foursj I crawled over a few rocks
 
 XXXIV.] RETURN TO MEAVY. 109 
 
 more, but was forced to give it vip, finding the at- 
 tempt much too hazardous, and that an accident 
 might be attended with serious consequences. Ex- 
 hausted and ahnost worn out, I lay down whilst Mr. 
 Bray continued the attempt ; but not being quite 
 so resolute in conquering these kind of difficulties 
 as he was twenty years ago, at last he gave in too ; 
 and then came the labour of helping me down 
 again, which he found not a whit less troublesome- 
 than pulling me up. 
 
 Wc had now to resume our weary way back again 
 to Meavy ; and I never was so tired in all my life as 
 when we reached the village, though, thanks to Jane 
 Luscombe, our road was shorter in returning than 
 in going, as, by her direction, we crossed the fields 
 instead of wandering round about them. In our way 
 back we passed a beautiful place ; it was a hovise 
 bearino- over the door the date IGIO. It is called 
 Knolle, and lies sheltered in a most sequestered and 
 romantic dell. It was altogether a house and scene 
 suited for romance : if Jane had lived there, and 
 been unmarried, she might have become the he- 
 roine. 
 
 On our return to Meavy we found John, still 
 siu'rounded by the children, ready to receive us. 
 The ponies had long since eaten their provender, 
 and stood ready harnessed to carry us home. John 
 had been on the look-out and had grown uneasy, 
 fearing we had met with some mischance amongst 
 the rocks. Recollecting, after we were gone, that 
 the basket with our luncheon had that day been 
 forgotten, he had very good-naturedly saved for us 
 the bread and cheese that he had provided for his 
 own refreshment. We did not refuse a share, and
 
 110 CHOLERA AT SHEEP's TOR. [lET. 
 
 might have had the whole, and to this act of thought- 
 fidness on his part we were indebted for being 
 rescued from the cravings of hunger. And more- 
 over our John, who is a bit of a naturalist, and as 
 kind and single-hearted a soul as ever breathed, had 
 just seen some rare bird that he wanted to show 
 to " mistress," but she came too late for the sight. 
 The good-natured creature and the children had 
 got so well acquainted during our absence, that I 
 heard them ask liini to come again soon and bring 
 the ponies with liim. They gave us a shout on 
 leading the village, and we drove home as fast as the 
 road fi-om Meavy to Roborough Down would let us. 
 Once we had to pass over so bad a place, and re- 
 ceived such a jolt, that we nearly had an upset, to 
 complete the adventures of the day. 
 
 Before I conclude this letter I purpose mention- 
 ing a melancholy instance of two deaths, by cholera, 
 that occurred in the little village of Sheep's Tor in 
 the summer of 1832, when that fatal disease raged 
 with such violence at Plymouth. The appearance 
 of cholera in this remote village was deemed so ex- 
 traordinary (as the deceased persons had held no 
 communication with Plymouth, indeed had scarcely 
 stirred from home, and lived with the utmost clean- 
 liness in such a healthy, elevated spot), that the cir- 
 cumstance induced a very particular inquiry, when 
 the following facts were ascertained : — 
 
 There lived at Plymouth a man and his wife 
 
 named N ; they had two children, and pleaded 
 
 such extreme poverty, that, whenever they chanced 
 to see a friend or relative, they made it a rule to get 
 out of them a sixpence or a shilling as a relief to 
 their alleged necessities. The cholera came upon
 
 XXXIV.] SHOCKING DEPRAVITY. Ill 
 
 tlicm like a tliief in tlie night, and N , his wife, 
 
 and both the children were in a few hours dead ! 
 The brothers of the deceased man now proceeded 
 to the house to give orders for the interment of this 
 fallen famil}-. and to see what effects might be left 
 in then- dwelling of supposed poverty. They found 
 fifty or sixty sovereigns, and a bill on a country 
 bank for about seventy pounds ! with clothes and 
 other things. You will be shocked to read what 
 next occiuTed. 
 
 Unawed by the fearful spectacle before their eyes, 
 and as if they bore "a charmed Hfe' that was inca- 
 pable of sharing the danger so apparent, these two 
 
 brothers quarrelled about the diWsion of N 's 
 
 property, and actually fought over the corpse ! This 
 indecent scene of strife alarmed the neighbourhood ; 
 the constables were sent for, and the brothers de- 
 camped. One, the most violent, possessed himself 
 of some of his dead brother s clothes, and fearful of 
 the consequences of having committed a breach 
 of the peace, set off for Sheep's Tor (about seven 
 miles from Plymouth, and as many from Tavistock), 
 and took refuge in the cottage of a man and his 
 wife who there kept a little village shop, and to 
 whom he was related. Tliis ruffian, who had fought 
 over the body and brought away the infected 
 clothes, received no injury; but, alas, the poor 
 honest couple who sheltered him caught the fatal 
 disease, died, and were buried in the churchyard 
 close to which they lived. On the morning of the 
 wife's death (only the day after her husband) a poor 
 orphan boy, I am told, came into Ta\-istock to say 
 to the doctor — "■' that father and mother both were 
 gone, and he had been left alone with the dead !"
 
 112 MYSTERIOUS PROVIDENCE. [lET. 
 
 Is not this most melancholy stoiy a proof (if proof 
 were wanting) that the pestilence is contagious ? 
 and is it not also an example of one of those m^ste- 
 rious acts of Providence wliich we cannot fathom ? 
 since, in a mere hmnan view of the subject, one 
 would be tempted to say that the innocent had 
 received the punishment due to the guilty. But 
 who shall judge the ways of God ; who shall scan 
 the secrets of his hidden pro\-idence ? 
 
 I have another melancholy story to tell about 
 cholera, but as it occurred in Tavistock, I reserve it 
 for some future letter ; in the interval allow me the 
 honour to remain. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 Very respectfully and sincerely yours, 
 
 Anna Eliza Bray.
 
 XXXV.] 113 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — A'visit to a friend — Miss Diiiham — Her amiable charac- 
 ter — Her family — Extraordinary dream — The story narrated — 
 Thomas Kenwood, his courage and promptitude, iu what circum- 
 stances displayed, narrated— Receives the silver medal — The late 
 Major Smith of the royal marine artillery — A sketch of his life ; 
 his gallantry in action, &c. — His illness and death — Is buried 
 at Tavistock — Mr. John Hitchins — His great genius — The peculiar 
 character of his talents — He neglects his own powers — He cannot 
 copy — His great capabilities — Two brothers, the Robjohns — Their 
 ingenuity — Self taught; they construct an organ — Mr. Peirce ; his 
 talents for mechanical inventions — Mary Colling ; a notice of her — 
 Her story not here fully repeated, because before narrated — How 
 she taught her canary bird to talk — Her amiable conduct after the 
 publication and success of her little volume. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, j4pril 17, 1833. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 There is in this town a lady for whom I 
 entertain the highest respect and esteem ; and 
 knowing her to be very intelhgent, I called on her 
 this morning to ash her, as she has lived here many 
 years, if she could aiford me any additional infor- 
 mation respecting Tavistock. She knew nothing 
 more about our town than the historical circum- 
 stances relating to Orgar, &c., already detailed in 
 these letters; but, in the course of conversation, 
 she mentioned so remarkable a story concerning her 
 own family, that I requested her to let me take down 
 the particulars in writing, and asked her if she
 
 114 MISS DINHAM. [lET. 
 
 would object to my naming them to you in the 
 present correspondence. She said certainly not, and 
 that I was at liberty likewise to mention her name 
 as my authority for what was stated. I rejoice in 
 thiS;, as I should not like to mention these things 
 without doing so ; and a more respectable authority 
 than Miss Dinham's can nowhere be found : she is 
 a woman of such strict principles and worth, that 
 whatever she says may be relied on, whether it con- 
 cern the least or the most important matter. My 
 friend is advanced in life ; for years she has been a 
 sufferer from almost constant illness of a very pain- 
 ful nature ; and the patience, the resignation, even 
 the cheerfulness with which she bears her afflic- 
 tions have often excited my warmest S3'mpathy and 
 esteem. But all her trials throvighout life, and they 
 have been many. Miss Dinham considers as the 
 dispensation of a wise Providence, and a murmur 
 never escapes her. She is remarkably well read in 
 the best authors of her own language, has strong 
 good sense, and has written sometimes in the hours 
 of sickness some feeling poetry. She is a mem- 
 ber of one of the oldest families in Cornwall, that 
 came into this country with the Conqueror, and 
 settled in Cornwall. They took their name from 
 Dinant, a castle of which they were the lords in 
 Normandy. In process of time the name became 
 corrupted into Dinan, or Dinham, and many brave 
 and loyal men have, through several generations, 
 maintained the honour of their ancient house.* 
 
 My friend's brother, the late Mr. Edmund Din- 
 ham, was the lineal descendant of the eldest branch .• 
 
 * Oliver de Dinan of Cardinham, Cornwall, summoned to Par- 
 liament as a baron in the reign of Edward I.
 
 XXXV.] AN EXTRAORDINARY DREAM. 115 
 
 the circumstances I have to relate concerning liini 
 occurred whilst Miss Dinham was a child. She was 
 on a Aisit at her cousin's. Sir John Philipps of 
 Boscastle, Cornwall ; but she well remembers hear- 
 ing the event much talked of at the time, and 
 afterwards frequently repeated to her by her late 
 mother. I am thus particular, because stories of 
 such a nature as that I have to mention can sel- 
 dom be traced to the parties so immediately con- 
 cerned in them. 
 
 About fift}' years ago Mrs. Dinham dreamed that 
 her son Edmund, then a child, had fallen into the 
 river Cam, in a deep pool called the Horse Pool, at 
 Camelford, in Cornwall ; and that she saw the boy 
 floatinof' on the surface of the water dressed in a 
 little red tunic, which he commonly wore. She 
 awolcp soon after, got up and hastened down to the 
 breakfast parlour, where her husband had been some 
 time before she rose. She repeated the dream to 
 him, and he laughed at her for indulging super- 
 stitious fears, and said dreams were never worth 
 attention. 
 
 The dream however dwelt upon her mind, and 
 when the maid brought in the boy dressed in the 
 red tunic she did not like to see it, but nevertheless 
 let the dress pass unnoticed, thinking her husband 
 woiild laugh at her still more if she expressed any 
 misgivings about the little fellow's frock. That 
 day, however, she kept more than usually a careful 
 eye over him ; but on being called off for a short 
 time, on her return she missed the cliild. He must 
 have run out at the door during her short stay in 
 another part of the house. She instantl}^ took the 
 alarm, and inquired amongst the neighbours if they
 
 116 EDMUND DINHAM. [lET. 
 
 had seen the boy, thinking and hoping he might 
 have strayed to play with other children at some 
 house near her own. Not findiiig him, the recol- 
 lection of the river Cam rushed across her with 
 fearful forebodings, and she ran down to the spot 
 that had been so deeply impressed on her by the 
 dream, in an agony of mind no tongue could de- 
 scribe. Judge what were her feelings Avhen, on draw- 
 ing near the banks of the stream, she was met by 
 several persons, bearing the poor boy, his little red 
 tunic streaming with water, livid and senseless, and 
 showing; no other sio-n of life than that of bleeding 
 violently at the nose. The mother exclaimed, in a 
 distracted manner, " Good God ! you have taken 
 him out of the Horse Pool ! Is he dead or alive ?" 
 
 '• He was taken out of the Horse Pool," replied 
 one of the men who was carrying along the body, 
 " but how could you know it ? he is but this mo- 
 ment saved ! We hope there is life." 
 
 The manner of his preservation from a watery 
 grave was not a little remarkable. I shall give this 
 also, as I Avrotc it down from his sister's lips. A 
 woman who was the laundress of the family, but who 
 on that day was working at another house in the 
 neighbourhood, had occasion to wash her tubs. 
 Something, she said, possessed her, she could not 
 tell why, that she would go down to the river to do 
 it, which she had never done before. She set off on 
 her errand, and had not far to go, for the river was 
 near the house. Whilst so em])loyed, she thought 
 she saw the dress of a child floating upon the water. 
 She stopped a minute or two and looked, and it dis- 
 appeared. This alarmed her, and she waded along 
 the bank of the river towards the spot where she had
 
 XXXV.] EDMUND DINHAM SAVED. 117 
 
 last seen the object that excited her surprise. It 
 rose again to the surface of the waters, and she then 
 saw it was a child. Anxious to save it, she Avaded 
 on towards the deep part called the Horse Pool, but 
 from the sandy and shelving nature of the ground 
 she lost her footing at every step, and the stream 
 was carrying her forward towards the fatal pool. 
 
 She screamed fearfully for assistance, and saw the 
 red tunic, the slvirt of which could now alone be 
 seen, sink again. Her reiterated cries at length 
 brought some hay-makers, mIio were Avorldng in a 
 field near the banks of the river, to the spot, at the 
 instant she was herself beginning to sink ; but she 
 had resolution and recollection sufficient, even in 
 those moments, to call out — that a child had sunk 
 in the deep part of the Horse Pool. They gave im- 
 mediate assistance ; the woman was brought safe to 
 the banks ; but the pool by this time had become so 
 piiddled that the poor boy could not be seen. One 
 man, expert in swimming, plunged under water, and 
 brought up Edmund Dinham, apparently lifeless. 
 
 On his being conveyed home, Mr. Marshall, at 
 that time a surgeon of great eminence in Cornwall, 
 was instantly sent for; fortunately he was on the 
 spot, and witliout delay obeyed the summons. On 
 his first arrival, he considered it a hopeless case. 
 All those means usually taken to resuscitate the 
 expiring spark of human life were applied, and at 
 length with complete success. Edmund Dinham 
 was saved, and lived to become a worthy and ho- 
 nourable member of society. He died about eighteen 
 months ago, in Cornwall, where, after an active lifcj 
 he had retired to end liis days.
 
 118 COURAGE OF T. KENWOOD. [lET- 
 
 Amono'st the remarkable characters in this town 
 deserving particular notice is Thomas Henwood, a 
 youth whose promptitude and intrepidity in saving 
 the life of a fellow-creature merits the highest 
 praise, and has been rewarded by a silver medal 
 from the Humane Society of London, and, above 
 all, by that self-satisfaction which the remembrance 
 of the circumstance must afford him to the last hour 
 of his existence. Thomas Henwood, the son of 
 poor but respectable parents, was about fifteen 
 years old when the event I have to detail occurred. 
 He was a lad of a quiet disposition, modest in his 
 address, and always steady and industrious in his 
 calling. 
 
 On Tuesday, Oct. 31st, 1826, a child of three 
 years old, the son of Mr. Long, of the town mills, 
 whilst at play near the leat, fell into the stream. 
 Providentially they were not working at the time. 
 The child floated down the narrow channel towards 
 another fulling-mill, but passed out at the sluice, 
 and by the force of the current was carried across 
 the river Tavy, towards the second arch of the 
 Abbey, or Guile Bridge. The river was high in 
 consequence of late rains. The body was rapidly 
 approaching ; had it passed under the arch all 
 would have been over, since only a few yards be- 
 yond it there is a wear, or fall of water, partly over 
 rocks, where no human means could have rescued 
 the infant. At this fearful crisis, when nothing of 
 the child could be seen but one of its little arms 
 raised above the water, yovmg Henwood, aware of 
 the perilous condition of the infant, and that the 
 moment it passed under the arch all chance to save
 
 XXXV.] MEDAL GIVEN TO T. HENWOOD. 119 
 
 it -would be over, without the pause of a moment, or 
 a tliought for his own safety, instantly leaped the 
 parapet, and from the embankment plunged into 
 the river. The waters reached above his shoulders : 
 he struggled with them in extreme peril of his 
 own life, but supported by the generous impulse of 
 humanity, he felt no fear. Notrnthstanding, there- 
 fore, the incumbrance of his clothes, he was enabled 
 to swim to the deep part of the river near the arch ; 
 and amidst the cheerings and greetings of the 
 crowd, which had by this time collected on the 
 banks, he caught a firm hold of the poor child, 
 and with a presence of mind, in such a situation 
 truly admirable, brought it towards an accessible 
 part of the river, in a position to preserve its 
 powers of respiration ; and thus soon afterwards 
 had the satisfaction of delivering the boy to his 
 fi'iends, unharmed. 
 
 By the recommendation of Mr. Crapp, of this 
 town, a narrative of the circumstances was drawn 
 up, and signed by some of the most respectable in- 
 habitants of Tavistock, who witnessed the intre- 
 pidity of Henwood. Mr. Bray, the portreeve, and 
 many others, joined in recommending him to the 
 notice of the Humane Society, and he was sent for 
 by the committee, that he might be present at the 
 next anniA'ersary. Henwood received the silver 
 medal, I beheve, from the hand of the Duke of 
 Sussex. On his return we sent for him, when he 
 brought us his medal to look at it; and we were 
 much interested with the modesty of his manners, 
 and the feeling way in which he alluded to the pre- 
 servation of the poor little boy.
 
 120 MAJOR SMITH. [lET. 
 
 Another remarkable native of onr town was the 
 late Major Smith, of the Eoyal Marine Artillery. 
 He was the son of a barber of this place, before 
 noticed in my former letters, and was brought up 
 to his father's trade. The late Admiral Bedford, 
 however, obser\'ing Smith to be a youth of more 
 than ordinary promise, thought he was calculated 
 to do well in a military or naval profession. The 
 Admiral generously befriended him and brought 
 him forward. 
 
 In what capacity Mr. Smith first went to sea I do 
 not know ; but shortly after he became an officer of 
 marines. In this post he Avas soon noticed for his 
 activity, courage, and good conduct during the war. 
 He was engaged in many actions; but that by 
 whicli he chiefly rose to distinction occurred in the 
 year 1801, Avhen he evinced so much promptitude, 
 decision and intrepidity, in quelling a mutiny that 
 broke out on board his Majesty's ship the Castor, 
 in the AVest Indies, that honourable mention was 
 made of his services on that occasion, in the record 
 of the court martial lielcl on the mvitincers. Capt. 
 Western, the president, also expressed to him the 
 high sense the court entertained of his conduct on 
 the 13th of December, and of the firmness and 
 steady discipline displayed by the small party of 
 marines under his command. To his spirited ex- 
 ertions, indeed, in the execution of Capt. Fanshaw's 
 orders (under whom he was then lieutenant) the 
 court attributed the quelling this very dangerous 
 mutiny. I wish I was fully acquainted with all the 
 circumstances concerning it, but I am not ; though 
 I well remember, after the major's death, hearing
 
 XXXV.] MAJOR SMITH. 121 
 
 one of his brothers say — that he had rushed on the 
 mutmeers at the very moment they had armed, and 
 were about taking possession of the ship, with the 
 intent to put to death the chief officers. Smith's 
 intrepidity (for his men were, in numbers, compara- 
 tively notliing to the rebels) overawed them, and 
 they yielded ; when, had they not beer taken by 
 surprise, and dealt with by a master spirit, they 
 could with case have over-matched Lieut. Smith 
 and his handful of men. For this truly gallant ac- 
 tion he afterwards, so I am told, received the thanks 
 of the House of Commons, aiid was, most de- 
 servedly, promoted to a company. 
 
 He married a lady of family, the sister of General 
 Anderson Morshead, the late Governor of ^lalta. 
 After a long and arduous service abroad, where his 
 health suffered by his exertions in the career of 
 duty, and by a tropical climate, he returned to Eng- 
 land, and lived for some years near Portsmouth. 
 He was universally esteemed by a numerous and 
 respectable circle of friends, and greatly beloved in 
 his corps. 
 
 I first saAv him in the summer of the year 1830. 
 Wc were sitting in the library, when a servant 
 brought a card with the name of Captain Smith. 
 !Mr. Bray had not seen him since he was a boy, 
 (though he had often heard the most honourable 
 mention of him, in a private as well as public capacity) 
 did not immediately recollect who it could be, but 
 desired that he should be shown in. A gentleman 
 about fifty years old entered the room, dressed in 
 plain clothes, but whose military air was not to be 
 mistaken ; and never shall I forget the painful feel- 
 ings he excited, as he sunk into a chair and attempted 
 
 VOL. HI. G
 
 122 MAJOR SMITH. [lET. 
 
 to speak to ns. The first impression that his ap- 
 pearance made on me, as he sat gasping- for breath 
 was that he Avonld die on the spot. We offered 
 assistance, but he waved his hand, and said he 
 should be better in a minute. 
 
 From having had, for some years, very bad health 
 myself, I had been addicted to the reading of medi- 
 cal books (a practice 1 would b}^ no means recom- 
 mend to my fi'iends), and, singular enough, that very 
 morning I had been enjjao-ed in readins; an account 
 of certain cases of water on the chest. I felt con- 
 vinced, from what I saw of Captain Smith's suf- 
 ferings, that he was the victim of that fatal disorder. 
 As soon as he could speak, he told us, unasked, such 
 was the case. That he had long been very ill; had 
 a mind to try his native air, and visit his aged 
 mother, who still hved in this town. Before he 
 came to Tavistock, he had been at Exeter to see a 
 brother who lived there, where he had consulted an 
 eminent physician. He purposed staying here, he 
 said, about two or three weeks, and then intended 
 going on to Widey Court, near Plymouth, the seat 
 of General Anderson Morshead, and where liis lady 
 then resided. There, too, he Avas to meet his wife, 
 who, in a fortnight, had promised to join liim in 
 Devonshire. 
 
 After Captain Smith had somewhat recovered 
 his breath, though he still seemed to clraAv it with 
 great suffering, he entered into conversation Avith 
 Mr. Bray, and expressed the pleasure he felt in 
 seeing him again in his natiA'e toAvn. He spoke of 
 his deceased brother EdAvard (a brief sketch of 
 Avhosc melancholy career I \\a,vo before stated) Avith 
 the greatest feeling, and lamented his early death
 
 XXXV.] MAJOR SMITH. 123 
 
 and blighted hopes in the most aiFectionate manner. 
 The conversation turned, also, on other subjects, 
 and we soon remarked the ease and intellip-ence 
 with which he touched on every topic that arose. 
 We found he was a man who had seen much of the 
 world wdth an attentive mind, and all his observa- 
 tions displayed that remarkable acuteness which, as 
 well as the tone of his voice, and a peculiarly quick, 
 animated expression of the eye, reminded us so much 
 of his deceased brother Edward. 
 
 During the interview, he happened to say that 
 he had always been fond of music. On hear- 
 ing this I asked him, should he feel himself well 
 enough, to join a little musical party we were 
 to have on the evening of the 23rd of July ; and 
 he cheerfully accepted the in^-itation. He was 
 one of the first who came on that evenino;; and 
 as he seated liimself on the sofa, it struck us that, 
 within a few days, there was an alteration in him 
 much for the worse. He gradually, however, re- 
 vived, and became more animated than I should 
 have supposed it possible one in such a state of 
 health could have been. We had some young ladies 
 present, who sang very delightfully; they gave us 
 the beautiful Jubilate Hjmn ; and he remarked to 
 me that he felt every note of that melody ; he recol- 
 lected having heard it abroad. In the course of the 
 evening I showed him the beautiful etchings exe- 
 cuted by Mr. Stothard, the historical painter, from 
 his o^^^l masterly designs that decorated the shield 
 presented by the merchants of London to the Duke 
 of Wellington. The sight of these engi-avings, every 
 subject of them depicting some striking event in the 
 
 g2
 
 124 MAJOR SMITH. [lET. 
 
 career of the Duke, seemed to call up the spirit 
 ■which had so long supported him in his arduous 
 profession. I shall never forget the animated man- 
 ner with which he made his observations, and told 
 me many interesting little circumstances respecting 
 the Peninsular war, with his customary acuteness and 
 clearness of expression. 
 
 After this I was obliged to give my attention to 
 the rest of the company, and Mr. Bray took his seat 
 by the side of the captain, with whom he held a 
 long and interesting conversation during the greater 
 part of the evening. I again drew near him, and 
 asked if he found the room too warm, as I felt the heat 
 very oppressive, notwithstanding one of the windows 
 was open. He said he did not, but that he should 
 soon take leave ; I must excuse his staying supper. 
 Again and again did he express the pleasure it had 
 aifordcd him in the long conversation he had held 
 with Mr. Bray. He told me he felt thirsty; and 
 had begged the servant to bring him a glass of 
 cider. It struck me this might be improper for him, 
 and I begged him not to take it, but to let me order 
 him some Avine and water. But he said it would not 
 hurt him, and drank it eagerly, though Mr. Bray 
 likewise attempted to persuade him not to touch 
 it. I tliought he seemed much worse after drink- 
 ing this ; and, on his rising to go, we so far pre- 
 vailed with him that lie consented to let oar servant 
 John walk with him to the inn where he was 
 staying. 
 
 There was something in him, notwithstanding his 
 cheerfulness, that persuaded me he was much worse 
 than he had any idea of; and I followed him out of
 
 XXXV.] MAJOR SMITH. 125 
 
 the room to know if there was anything we coukl do 
 for him, or if he would not call in medical assistance. 
 He said " No, he was not worse than he had long 
 been," shook me very cordially by the hand, thanked 
 me for feeling an interest in his health, and said that 
 kindness vv'as always a balm to suffering. 
 
 I stayed till I saw John lead him out. Little did 
 I think that he was at that moment on the verge of 
 eternity ! and that he would so soon leave the cheer- 
 fulness of society, the voice of song to which he had 
 listened with so much delight, for the silence and the 
 solitariness of the tomb. When all the company 
 had left us, we talked of poor Captain Smith ; and 
 on my remarking to Mr. Bray that if he stayed here 
 much longer I feared he might have the melancholy 
 task of officiating at his funeral, we agreed to call 
 on him the next morning, to advise him not to delay 
 Ills removal to Widey Court, and to send for his wife 
 to meet him there. 
 
 After breakfast, on the following day, however, 
 John came suddenly in, and told his master that the 
 landlord of the Bedford Arms had sent to inform him 
 that Captain Smith was no more. That morning 
 the post had brought him a letter, which the waiter^ 
 fearing to disturb him, had carried softly into his 
 room, and laid on the table. He did not go near 
 the bed. His bell not being rung at the usual hour 
 and all remaining silent, it excited some uneasiness ; 
 when, on approaching the bed, he was found qviite 
 dead ; and by the position in Avhich the body lay, it 
 seemed as if he had attempted to rise, probably 
 finding himself in a state to require immediate as- 
 sistance.
 
 126 DEATH OF MAJOR SMITH. [lET. 
 
 The letter lying with the seal unbroken on the 
 table was official. It was found to be an announce- 
 ment to the deceased that, two or three da3's before, 
 in consideration of his long and meritorious services, 
 he had been promoted to the rank of jMajor of his 
 regiment. This new honour came but to add to 
 those of his funeral, and he was buried in the church- 
 j'ard of his native town as Major Smith. 
 
 As I purpose devoting tliis letter to give you some 
 slight sketches of the remarkable characters of this 
 place, (and if I omit any it will be fi-om ignorance 
 not intention, since, as far as I am able, I would 
 wish to do justice to the merits of all,) I cannot pass 
 in silence the mention of one Avho is still li\'ing, now, 
 indeed, in the prime of life, and possessed of so much 
 natural genius, that did but his perseverance keep 
 pace -mth it, he might rank himself vnih. the first 
 British landscape painters. But, unfortunately, it 
 too frequently happens, unless early and regular 
 study have rendered industry habitual, we find ap- 
 plication wanting where it coidd not fail to produce 
 the most successful results. 
 
 Mr. John Hitchins, for that is the name of the 
 subject of this sketch, notwithstanding his want of 
 regular application, may be called a self-made artist, 
 and that in a school entirely his own. When he 
 studies at all, it is from nature ; and all his drawings, 
 so produced, are strictly true, and so characteristic, 
 that on looking at them you say immediately, — 
 " These are Devonshire scenes ; such are the pecu- 
 liarities of the rocks, the singular combination of 
 the tors, the wild and picturesque features of the 
 rivers, that render the glens and valleys of the county
 
 XXXV.] MR. HITCHINS. 127 
 
 SO replete with beauty." These are m fact por- 
 traits of our scenery, and, Ukc other portraits, when 
 treated with a masterly hand, they possess that 
 grace and feeling which constitute the poetry of 
 the art. 
 
 Mr. Hitchins is a man possessed of strong powers 
 of mind, and the most accurate taste. In books, or 
 in the fine arts, he has a lively appreciation of what 
 is excellent ; and not the smallest beauty in nature, 
 not a cloud, not a combination of form and colour, 
 or the graceful bend of a tree, escapes his observant 
 eye. So much is due to his merits ; but the faults 
 of a man endowed with so much genius must not be 
 spared. He will, from mere want of resolution to 
 begin, pass month after month, and never touch a 
 pencil, though he has ample time for his art. Yet, 
 when he once takes that pencil in hand, his appli- 
 cation (whilst the fit lasts, and no longer) is of that 
 order which defies difficulties and obstruction. I 
 remember when he once sat on the rocks, near the 
 river in Mary Tavy, drawing incessantly for three 
 days, in the midst of continvial rain, and obliged in 
 one hand to hold an mnbrella over his head, to 
 finish a sketch he had commenced on the spot ; and 
 a beautiful picture it was. He regularly makes a 
 journey to London, once a year, to look at the exhi- 
 bitions, and returns to his native county the moment 
 he has satisfied his desire. He will walk miles 
 and miles along the banks of a river, to enjoy the 
 scenery, with a fishing rod in his hand, come home, 
 describe what he has seen with enthusiasm, forrai 
 plans for the pictures he intends making of the most 
 striking scenes in his late excursion, give hopes that 
 at last he is about to do justice to his own capabi-
 
 128 MPx. HITCHINS. [let. 
 
 lities, and tlicn — the lazy fit comes on again, and lie 
 does little or nothing to carry into effect the plans 
 thus formed. I hesitate not to write these things 
 of him, having often sketched to him his own charac- 
 ter, which he has as often laughingly aclcnov.ledged 
 to he true. I can only add that " Pity tis, 'tis 
 true." 
 
 One of the peculiarities of Mr. Hitchins is, that 
 he cannot copy, even if he would do so ; for w^hen- 
 ever he attempts to copy any one of his own draw- 
 ings, it is always a failure compared to the original 
 sketch. This was the case in the copy he made of 
 his view of Hill bridge for the Duchess of Bedford. 
 It had not the ease and nature of the first effort ; 
 and if her Grace should show that drawing to any 
 London artist, he can form, by seeing that alone, 
 no idea of the genius of our Devonshire Ruysdael, 
 as my brother truly named Mr. Hitchins, when he 
 noticed his local sketches in the ' Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine.' 
 
 In the hope that the opinion of some of the 
 eminent painters of the day might stimulate our 
 Kuysdael to exertion, I took his drawings to town 
 three or four years ago, and submitted them to Mr. 
 Stothard, and other artists of like authority. Their 
 opinions of his genius, and the fruits it was capable 
 of producing, if cultivated by application, were not 
 less favourable than we had long before entertained 
 concerning him ; and 1 brought home my report 
 with the greatest pleasure. I wish it had produced 
 a more permanent effect in rousing the energies of 
 our townsman, since it is lamentable to witness such 
 an instance of superior natural talents thus unknown 
 and buried by the neglect of their possessor. If
 
 XXXV.] THE ROBJOHNS. 129 
 
 Mr. Hitchins had had the good fortune not to be 
 worth a shilling, necessity would have driven him 
 to application, and Devonshire would have numbered 
 him with her Reynolds and her Prouts, as an honour 
 to the county. But it is not too late to amend ; and 
 I heartily hope he may contradict all I say of him by 
 the most vigorous exertions in time to come. 
 
 Mr. Scobel Willesford told me the other day, that 
 we had here two brothers, who deserved to be no- 
 ticed in these letters, on account of their remarkable 
 genius for mechanics ; the more remarkable, as they 
 Avere entirely self-instructed in all thej^ did ; all their 
 ingenious inventions being the result of their own 
 imassisted perseverance. Their name is Rohjohns. 
 And jVIr. Willesford tells me they have actually 
 built an organ, which, he assures me, (and he is 
 himself a good musician,) has excited the wonder of 
 every professional person \\\\o has touched it. The 
 instrument was entirely their own work, nor had they 
 any knowledge of organ -building, but that which 
 the}'- managed to acquire for themselves, and princi- 
 pally by examining the organ in the church. I wish 
 I knew more about these young men, avIio, I believe, 
 are not at present resident in the town, though 
 they Avere born in it. 
 
 We have here, too, another clever mechanical 
 head, Avhich has been employed in the invention 
 of some most useful articles of a domestic nature,. 
 Mr. Peii'ce, an ironmonger, amongst many other 
 ingenious contrivances, is the original inventor and 
 sole maker of the most complete roasting apparatus 
 that ever found its place in a kitchen. We con- 
 stantly use this machine, which is principally formed 
 of tin. It is not at all cumbrous, is complete in 
 
 g3
 
 130 MARY COLLING. [lET. 
 
 itself, and is about two feet five inches in height, 
 and the same in length. The cook has no trouble 
 but that of putting the meat on the spit and bast- 
 ing it. The spring by which the roast turns is 
 wound up like a watch. All air is excluded, except 
 in front of the fire, and the heat thus confined is 
 reflected by the bright tin plates at the top and 
 on the sides of the machine. I do not know if 
 this invention has yet found its way to London, 
 but if there kno^vn, I doubt not it woidd be very 
 successful. 
 
 Having in my former letters * presented you with 
 so full an account of Mary Maria Colling, I do not 
 here give any detailed sketch of her remarkable 
 story, though she certainly claims a prominent place 
 in the biography of Tavistock. She is the same mo- 
 dest, graceful, single-hearted creature that she was 
 before she had the good fortune to be the object of 
 so much kindness and notice both from yourself and 
 other generous friends Avho felt interested in her 
 little story, and the unassisted efforts she had made 
 to form and cultivate hor mind. 
 
 Since the publication of her little volume, she has 
 devoted as much time as the duties of her ser\"ice 
 would admit to her improvement ; and I rejoice to 
 tell those who fancied I might do her an injury 
 instead of a benefit by bringing her forward, that the 
 success of her book (and for one in her station of 
 life it was considerable), and the notice it procured 
 for her from so many honourable quarters, have done 
 
 * Annexed to a little volume of " Fables, and other pieces in verse 
 by Mary Maria Colling." Published by Longman and Co., Loudon, 
 in the year 183 L For an interesting account of Mary's volume, see 
 the y2ud number of the 'Quarterly Review,'— March, 1832.
 
 XXXV.] A TALKING CANARY. 131 
 
 her no harm whatever; but, I trust, much good. 
 There cannot be a more feehng, affectionate, or 
 humble mind, or a more perfectly natural and en- 
 gaging character. I am proud to call Mary my 
 friend, and I shall never meet vnth one more con- 
 stant or deserving. 
 
 I remember you washed to know how she taught 
 her canary bird to talk. I have questioned her on 
 the subject; but I conclude the talking canary must 
 have been a genius, as the same pains she took with 
 him she has lately bestowed on the successor of his 
 cage, but without the same success. She tells me 
 that the deceased bird was a gi-eat favourite, and 
 she, being much alone, used to have him near her 
 Avliilst engaged in her work. That she w'oiild talk to 
 it, and give it bits of bread, sugar, or cake, which it 
 always took very kindly, and would put its bill 
 between the wares, and seem attentive to her. She 
 generally addressed it with the words " Pretty Dick 
 Canary," or "pretty little dear, give us a bit," &c. 
 One day, after she had thus been fondling it, she left 
 the kitchen, and on her return, w4iilst engaged in 
 work, she distinctly heard the words — " Pretty little 
 dear." Knowing that no person but herself w^as in 
 the kitchen, she looked round wdth astonishment, 
 and the canary again distinctly repeated the same 
 words. She mentioned the circumstance to her 
 worthy master, Mr. Hughes, who said it must be 
 fancy: but he was convinced, by himself hearing the 
 bird speak, that she had stated a fact ; and Dick's ta- 
 lents for talking were soon celebrated amongst Mary's 
 acquaintance and friends. So great was her care of 
 the bird after this discovery, that she used to carry 
 it up at night, and hang the cage not very far from
 
 132 MARY colling's avork. [let. 
 
 the bed, I have no doubt her care killed the poor 
 canary, for it did not long survive her extreme at- 
 tention to its comforts. I have somewhere read that 
 the human breath, in a confined atmosphere, will 
 very quickly destroy birds, and Mary's canary may 
 be cited, perhaps, as an example. 
 
 To return to herself. After the publication of 
 her volume, as soon as she had received from the sub- 
 scribers sufficient funds for the purpose, she paid all 
 the expenses incurred in printing, &c. She next 
 erected an inscribed stone in our churchyard to the 
 memory of her beloved grandmother Philp. She 
 made many little presents to " Sister Anne" on 
 her wedding ; and, I know, did many other little acts 
 of generosity and bounty that I do not name lest it 
 should be painful to her feelings : all this was done 
 out of the profits of her book ; and lastly, as a mark 
 of thankfulness to God, whose goodness she always 
 acknowledges in raising up friends to serve her, she 
 jDut down her name as a yearly subscriber of five 
 shillings to the Chiu'ch Missionary Society. After 
 all these payments and donations, I believe her own 
 share of what she had gained amounted only to about 
 twenty pounds ; since (unless the publishers may 
 have recently received further payments for her) 
 nearly one hundred of her subscribers had not paid 
 for their copies of the work ; distance of time and 
 ])lacc very probably having made them delay or 
 forget their little debt, which, though very small to 
 each individual, becomes, in the aggregate, a serious 
 loss to her. 
 
 So much interest did her work awaken for her, 
 that she has had nvunerous presents of books, &c. ; 
 and one sent anonymously with a very handsome
 
 XXXV.] MARY COLLING's WORK, 133 
 
 letter. Mr. Davies Gilbert was so much pleased 
 with her that he endeavoured to trace out her rela- 
 tions in Sussex. His Grace the Duhe of Bedford 
 presented her Avith ten pounds ; and a nohleman, 
 who Avould not even suffer me to let her or any one 
 else know his name in doing- the kind act, was so 
 much interested by reading- the account of her in the 
 ' Quarterly Review/ that he wrote to me, enclosing 
 for her a five pound note ; and the bounty of ten rix 
 dollars, presented by a Danish gentleman, who read 
 her work at Copenhagen, you were kind enough to 
 transmit to her. You were also pleased to express 
 3'our wish to see a reprint of her httle volume. I 
 proposed it to IVIessrs. Long-man and Co., and 
 pointed out to them the probability that a second 
 edition, sold as cheap as the first, or even at a lower 
 price, if they wished it, would be certain to meet with 
 a sale. But from pressure of business, I conclude, 
 and having little time to devote to Avorks on so small 
 a scale, they declined it, though they handsomely 
 admitted the merit of Mary's book, and the very 
 favourable impression it had made AA-herever it AA'as 
 knoAA'n. As Messrs. Longman had declined re- 
 printing it, Mr. Hughes did the same ; and Mary, 
 with her small fund, could not herself Axnture upon 
 the undertaking; and so, to this hour, the Avorkhas, 
 I knoAA', been frequently inquired for in London, and 
 not a copy can be there procured ; Mary had a fcAV, 
 hoAvever, reserved here, but even they are nearly 
 exliausted *. 
 
 * Should this page meet the eye of a London bookseller, or a pub- 
 lisher elsewhere, who might feel disposed to reprint 3Iary CoUing's 
 little volume, I can only say I should be most happy to superintend 
 the printing, &c., once more, and to add some few things of interest to
 
 134 MARY COLLING's WORK. [lET. 
 
 I must now for the present take my leave, assm-ing 
 yon how much 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 Ever faithfully and respectfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray. 
 
 the new edition. There would be no expense incurred for engraving 
 the portrait again, as we have the plate in good condition. I have 
 no doubt the reprint would sell; and such is the opinion of Mr. 
 Southey, and of every literary person to whom I have yet spoken 
 on the subject.
 
 XXXVI.] 135 
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Remarks on the charities of Tavistock — Commuta- 
 tions — Ancient charities — Kenelm Digby, author of the 'Broad 
 Stone of Honour' — His great merit — Charity of a lady to the 
 poor of Tavistock — Hospital of St. George founded and endowed 
 temp. Edward III. — Hospital of the Lazar-house of St. Mary 
 Magdalen and St. Theobald, called the Maudlin— Tolls of fairs, &c., 
 appropriated to the schoolmaster — Annual donation of Robert 
 Charles — St. John's Chapel — Charles Grill's charity — Donation to 
 the parish church of St. Eustace and to the chaplain, or common 
 priest — Glebe formerly attached to the living — Ejected minister — 
 Mr. Lewknor, the vicar of Tavistock — Spared in the times of 
 Charles I. — A tenement given for the benefit of the schoolmas- 
 ter — Oliver IMaynard, of Milton Abbot, his charitable bequest to 
 the poor artificers — Serjeant Glanville's charity — Sir William 
 Courtenay's bequest to the poor of Tavistock — Watts's charity, 
 the Gift-houses — Present charities — The Duke of Bedford their 
 munificent patron — Dorcas Society — Lying-inn charity — Library 
 for the poor — The Dispensary Work-house — Clubs ; saving banks — 
 School on the Lancasterian plan — The grammar-school much 
 fallen into decay — Benefits of the old English grammar-school — 
 The public library — Buildings erected to receive the books, on the 
 model of the Propylajum — Proposed to be pulled down, on a mis- 
 taken principle of taste — Juxtaposition of a variety of architecture 
 admired by artists and architects — Instances given in Venice, 
 Rome, &c., and in Oxford — The Propylseum pulled down — New 
 library — Institution — Lectures — Museum — New librarian in place 
 of the deceased Mr. Knight — Remarkable circumstance respecting 
 the preservation of Mr. Knight, in early life, related — Mr. John 
 Rundle the builder ; a remarkable person ; born in a humble 
 station ; by his own desire brought up a carpenter ; his early 
 thirst after knowledge ; self-taught ; acquires some knowledge 
 of drawing ; his great perseverance ; goes to Exeter and studies 
 Gothic architecture ; thrown from a horse ; converts his sick room 
 into a place of study ; produces a model of the temple of Theseus
 
 136 CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 his beautiful drawing and desi^^n for a Gothic school-house ; his 
 enthusiasm and modesty : his worth and capabilities of becoming 
 an honour to the arts of his country — Subject resumed — Public 
 buildings — New ball-room — Concerts — Miss Elizabeth Greco — Her 
 great talents as a vocalist — No regular theatre — Strolling players — 
 Amusing letter written by the mistress of a strolling company, 
 some years ago, relating her life and adventures — Amusements 
 of a country town — A couple of cheats — French giant — Phantas- 
 magoria — The show-maivs proclamation — Beggars — Amusing 
 instance of imposition — An Irish woman and her child — A large 
 snake seen in Pixy Lane — Extravagant reports. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, June 8lh, 1833. 
 My dear S[R, 
 
 This will be a letter of a very miscellaneous 
 character; as I propose, like Espriclla, to notice 
 even the least thing that is worthy of observation; 
 though I must not hope, like the ingenious Spa- 
 niard, to make old things new by the manner of 
 giving my observations, or, as he does, to throw an 
 interest on the most familiar of our local customs, 
 and to awaken curiosity concerning them as much 
 as if they were those of a foreign or unknown land. 
 
 Had Espriclla visited this town he would have 
 found subjects for many a letter, and would have 
 told his correspondent that the English charity, he 
 so much commeiids, was in no place more largely 
 displayed, the size of the town being considered, 
 than in Tavistock. Some of these public ex- 
 amples of charity he would, too, joyfully have 
 traced to their Catholic origin, and would have 
 lamented that others founded in those days when 
 the blessed Mary and the blessed St. Rumon here 
 held sway (and some, also, of later date) were now 
 vanished, no man knows whither ; or neglected, or 
 forgotten, or commuted for something else deemed
 
 XXXVI.] CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. 137 
 
 as good no doubt Ly those wlio managed the com- 
 mutation ; and possibly it may be so ; nevertheless 
 I hold it to be unfair to the first founders, as they 
 thus have had their original designs^, emanating 
 from their own benevolence, changed or perverted ; 
 their names, Avhich deserved reverence (and would 
 have had it as long as those charities survived), for- 
 gotten : and a doubt still left for cavil or question, 
 if a quid pro quo has really and virtually been given 
 m lieu of those ancient charities, and to as good 
 purpose. 
 
 In making these observations I can have no per- 
 sonal aim, since I am totally iirnorant even of the 
 names of those Avho managed these commutations ; 
 and all arrangements of this description were made 
 so many years ago, that nothing but the fact in its 
 general outline still survives. It is not impossible 
 that the agent named Butcher, the " bashaw," whose 
 character has been handed down to us by Baretti, and 
 is yet the theme of tradition, might have had some- 
 tliing to do with the matter ; and, if so, I should 
 be still more tempted to doubt the justice or wisdom 
 of the act ; for Baretti tells us " that the bashaw 
 (of Tavistock) did right or wrong just as he pleased 
 in this place, and deceived his superiors *." 
 
 I shall here speak of the ancient foundations be- 
 fore I come to the modern ones ; and certainly no 
 man can do other than agree with Kenelm Digby 
 (that most amiable and least bigoted of all our 
 writers in favour of the Church of Home), that 
 
 * Baretti dates his first letter Auj^. \'i, 1700; and Lysous says, 
 "In the year 17G1 all the parish estates were rested in the Duke of 
 Bedford, for the yearly sum of 120/., excepting certain premises since- 
 converted into an alms-house for fifteen poor persons."
 
 138 CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 the ages of faith were those of charity to the poor, 
 the old, the infirm, and the friendless. 
 
 It appears from the manuscript account of the 
 charities of this parish (intrusted to my hands by Mr. 
 Charles Crapp), that the " abstracts " which it contains 
 were " taken out of ye new Feoffm* Deeds on Au- 
 gust 21*', 1738." The document is now before me ; 
 but did I copy the whole verbatim it would be tire- 
 some, as the repetitions of law terms with Avhich it 
 abounds are about as amusing as the reading of a 
 title deed or a conveyance at the present time. It 
 will therefore be sufficient to notice them in general 
 terms, excepting in two or three particulars. 
 
 The first on the hst is that of a Lady Mary some- 
 body (her name begins with a K, but the word is so 
 illegible that I cannot make it out). This Lady 
 Mary in the third year of the reign of James I. 
 gives the yearly rents of certain lands, &c. (at the 
 time of her death being worth 1/. 4s.) to the 
 poor of the parish of Tavistock for ever. The 
 trustees, &c., are also named; and in the MS. of 
 1738, beneath the above entry, are the words, in 
 the same hand^^Titing, "Eightly applyed." Thus 
 we learn the charity was in existence at that date. 
 
 I have before noticed the hospital founded and 
 endowed by one of the ancient house of Tremaine, 
 and dedicated to St. George in the reign of Edward 
 III. Of the extinction of that charity I know 
 nothing, nor have I been able to learn any particu- 
 lars concerning it. In the MS. there is a notice of 
 the hospital or Lazar-house of St. Mary Magdalen 
 and St. Theobald, commonly called the Maudlin. 
 This house survived the destruction of the abbey; 
 and in the twenty-seventh of Elizabeth, John Butte,
 
 XXXVI.] CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. 139 
 
 then prior, and the brothers and sisters of the same 
 house, with one consent, by deed indented under 
 seal, demised to John Fitz, Esq. and others, in trust, 
 as dispensators of the same for the benefit of the 
 poor lazars, or, wanting such, the poor, all the said 
 lands, tenements, orchards, and parks, for the space 
 of one thousand years. The Maudlin Chapel, of 
 which not even a fragment now exists, was in use so 
 late as the year 1672 : this we learn from an entry 
 in the churchwarden's account, which runs thus — 
 " October 20th, 1672, then collected at the MaudUn 
 Chappell, towardes the reliefe of John Bazely, 
 blacksmith, inhabitant in the saide towne of Tavis- 
 tocke, the sum of thhty shillings and sixpence *." 
 
 After the charity of the Maudlin or Lazars, comes 
 a long entry about tolls, fairs, markets, market- 
 house, court of pypowder, &c., originally granted 
 by letters patent, under the great seal of Edward 
 VI., to the Earl of Bedford in 1551. By wliich it 
 appears that the "fairs" (tolls of them) were, so late 
 
 * St. John's Chapel, as I have before mentioned, was a hermitage 
 on the south side of the Tavy. Amongst the parish documents there 
 is preserved a petition to the then Earl of Bedford (which my brother 
 thinks niaj' be dated about 1677), praj-ing — "That as there is a little 
 cottage much ruyned, -with two little garden plots to the same be- 
 longinge, called by the name of St. John's Chappell, bought in the 
 time of the late contagious sickness, and then converted to a pest- 
 house," that his lordship would be pleased to grant it the parish for 
 ninety-nine years, determinable on three lives thereunder named, re- 
 serving to his lordship the ancient rent of one shilling yearly, to be 
 converted "to the use of the poor of the saide parish, unless it should 
 be again required as a pest-house.*' And this was granted. 
 
 St. Margaret's was a small chapelry dependent on the abbey, which 
 Mr. Bray thinks stood near Mount Tavy, and that it was used as a 
 place of worship by the people of the hamlet of Cudlipptown.
 
 140 CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. [LET. 
 
 as in 1733, " applyed to ye schoolmaster, being at 
 ye discretion of ye lessees."' 
 
 The next entry states that Robert Charles, Esq., 
 of Tavistock, did, by his last will and testament, in 
 the thirteenth year of the reign of Elizabeth, give, 
 in trust, to John Fitz, Esq., John Glanville, Esq., 
 and others, the yearly rents (amounting at the time 
 of the donor's death to 41. per annum) for the re- 
 lief '•' of ye poor people within ye two alms-houses 
 adjoining to ye churchyarde of Tavistocke, for eier." 
 This charitv, at the date of the MS., was noted as 
 "Rightly applyed." 
 
 Next follows a long account of certain lands, 
 tenements, reversions, and services, with " ye appur- 
 tenances, in ye borough and parish of Tavistocke," 
 given by will of Charles Grills, Esq., in the ITtli 
 of Elizabeth, for charitable purposes. Beneath the 
 entry appears this note : — 
 
 "N.13. The saide Premises were first vested in 
 Feoffics by Jno. and Charles Grills, of Landrith, in 
 Cornwall, according to a trust reposed in them by 
 Charles Grills their father, by deed dated August 
 3rd, in ye 12th of King James ye 1st. 
 
 " N.B. No uses recited or mentioned." 
 
 Next comes the following entry in the MS. : — 
 
 " Seizen endorsed July 28th, 1739. Given to the 
 Church of St. Eustace (that is, our parish church) 
 for repairs, but particularly a piece called Parshill 
 Piece, to a Chaplin, or common Priest, for ever." 
 
 If any "Chaplin or common Priest" in 1739 re- 
 ceived this donation, I do not know ; never having 
 heard of the bounty so bestowed before I met with it 
 n this document. Some great changes must have
 
 XXXVI.] CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. 141 
 
 been made in tlie church jDi'operty here ; as in the 
 British Museum there is still preserved a regis- 
 ter of all the church livings in several of the prin- 
 cipal counties of England, made about the year 
 1645, for the use of the commissioners under an act 
 "for ejecting scandalous and inefficient ministers*." 
 In this register (at so distant a date) we find the 
 living of Tavistock valued at 240/. per annum ; the 
 Earl of Bedford its patron. The Glebe is there 
 mentioned and valued at II. per annum ; and 50Z. 
 per annum lately added to the incumbent's pension 
 by the Earl of Bedford, which before had been but 
 19/. per annviraf . At the present time there is no 
 glebe attached to the living ; when it was taken away 
 I do not know ; but it was certainly spared in the 
 times of Charles I., as Mr. Lewknor, being then 
 pionounced and returned "a preaching minister," 
 found favoiir with the Parliament party, and was 
 not disturbed in his vicarage. Possibly his patron, 
 the Earl of Bedford, who was opposed to the royal- 
 ists, might have been a friend to him at this crisis ; 
 since the clergy were so persecuted on the most 
 trivial or groundless charges, that Walker, v»'ho 
 di'ev/ up his account from authentic documents, gives 
 a statement respecting a loyal member of the Church 
 who was ejected in Devonshire on pretences of so 
 frivolous a nature, that one amongst the other 
 
 * From ' Xoticcs of Tavistock ami its Abbey," by A. J. Kempe, in 
 the ' Gent. ]Mag.' 
 
 J The pension, or free gift of his Grace the Duke of Bedford, is 
 now 189/., making it, with 11/., the only sum which the vicar can 
 claim, 200/. per annum. The present Duke has lately built a hand- 
 some house in which he allows the vicar to live rent-free.
 
 142 CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. [LET. 
 
 charges brought against him was — that he ate cus- 
 tard pudding in a slovenly and unseemly manner for 
 a minister. 
 
 To follow the manuscript : — next comes an account 
 of a tenement given by one of the Fitz family, in the 
 reign of Philip and iNTary (under a chief rent of six- 
 pence per ann. to the heirs of Fitz), the rent of which, 
 says the document in question, has been annually 
 received and appropriated to the schoolmaster. 
 
 Oliver Maynard, of Milton Abbot, clotMer, by his 
 deed on the 10th of January, 1602, '-for the zeal 
 and good ^\^U which he bore to the well disposed 
 poor artificers, painfuR hand^'craftsmen, labourers, 
 and poor people" of the parish of Tadstock, gives 
 them for ever a certain number of tenements (all 
 specified and very minutely described) in Ta\-istock, 
 one of which is more particularly mentioned, and 
 said to be '■' situate lying and being within the tovm, 
 that is to say, between the tenements and lands of 
 the Right Hon. then Earl of Bedford, on the east, 
 and a tenement pertaining to the parish church of 
 Tavistock, wherein Walter Burgess, deceased, then 
 lately dwelt, on the west side of a street called ye 
 Bouch Rowe on the south side, and the street or way 
 leading from the parish church of Ta\-istock afore- 
 said, towardes Rowden-hill on the north." Then 
 follows an entry which explains that by the deed of 
 Oliver Maynard, it was not the rents but the tene- 
 ments themselves he so liberally bequeathed to the 
 use of the poor artificers, &c. 
 
 The next charity recorded, is that of Sir John 
 Glanvillc, to put a '•' poor, but towardly bo}-, born 
 of honest parents in Tadstocke, to college." As
 
 XXXVI.] CHARITIES OF TAVISTOCK. 143 
 
 I have already mentioned this in the life of Glan^ 
 ville, I here omit the detail concerning it found in 
 the MS. 
 
 The last record (and the document breaks off 
 abruptly, as if not finished, leaving also many blank 
 pages at the close) is that of a grant of certain 
 yearly rents " to be goeing out of Pitscliffe," made 
 on the 14th of May, 29th of Charles II., by Sir 
 William Courtenay, to " ye use of ye poore of Tavis- 
 tocke *," and this is, I apprehend, the same charity 
 as that called the " Courtenay alms-house" men- 
 tioned in the ' Gent. Mag.,' as '• one of the ancient 
 and noble family of Courtenay gave 4?. per annum, 
 to be diA-ided, by vt^ay of pension, among four poor 
 widows in an hospital or almshouse of Tavistock. 
 This building was repaired by George Courte- 
 nay, Esq., of Walreddon, at the beginning of the 
 eighteenth century. 
 
 I do not here pretend to enter on the subject of the 
 commutations that might have been made for seve- 
 ral of these defunct charities, intended by their foun- 
 ders to last for ever. Whatever may have been their 
 fate, it is due to the memory of the benefactors that 
 their names should be preserved in connexion Avith 
 their oriirinal e-rants : here, therefore, (without en- 
 tering upon the question of what has been done 
 sincetheir day) I record them. Watts's charity (of 
 which more hereafter, as I am promised a copy 
 of his very curious wiWj) is stiU in existence ; so, 
 
 * No doubt this was the Sir William Courtenay, to whom Lady 
 Howard bequeathed Walreddon and Fitz-ford. 
 
 •J- 1 have not been able, however, to see it.
 
 144 PRESENT CHARITIES. [lET. 
 
 also, is the almshouse for the poor women, now 
 called the Gift-hor.se, but it is not confined to 
 Avidows. 
 
 I now proceed to mention our present charities, 
 and in doing so I wish it were in my power to give 
 the names of all those benevolent persons Avho have 
 voluntarilv united for their foundation and support. 
 At the head of these stands the Duhe of Bedford, 
 who, on all occasions, has been a munificent con- 
 tributor to the existing charities of this place. We 
 have the Dorcas Society, for giAing garments to the 
 poor on the recommendation of a subscriber, the 
 number of garments distribiited by each being regu- 
 lated by the amount of the individual subscription. 
 We have, also, the Lying-in Charity, regulated in 
 the same manner. 
 
 We have a library to lend out, gratis, books to 
 the poor. This charity is under the more immediate 
 raanairemcnt of ]\iiss Charlotte Bedford, who con- 
 ducts it with praiseworthy care and attention. The 
 books circulated are not merely of a religious nature, 
 but likewise of an instructive and amusins: class. 
 The Dispensary lately established for relieving the 
 sick was originally suggested by Mr. Charles Crapp : 
 it met with some opposition, but Mr. Crapp never lost 
 sight of his object till he gained support enough to 
 ensure its success ; and it has been found of the 
 greatest benefit to the poor. Their feelings are in 
 every way consulted in the regulations of tlic insti- 
 tution, as they are at liberty to choose their own 
 medical man, who attends them, if necessary, at 
 their own home, and both medicine and attendance 
 are given, gratis, on the recommendation of a sub-
 
 XXXVI.] THE SCHOOLS. 145 
 
 scribcr *. The workliousc here, as in most other 
 towns, of late years, has been very full, notwith- 
 standmg we have a savings bank, and clubs formed 
 by artificers, labourers, servants, and even by wo- 
 men, to alleviate sickness or any other kind of dis- 
 tress. The subscribers to these clubs pay so much 
 monthly, and receive an allowance according to the 
 circumstances of their misfortunes, whenever they 
 may befall them ; and if they die something is like- 
 wise allowed to assist in giving the deceased member 
 a decent funeral. 
 
 The school here is on the Lancasterian plan; 
 or, as the name of Lancaster is now falling into 
 disrepute, it is called the British Free School. To 
 this my husband is a subscriber ; but he, like 
 yourself, is a strong advocate for schools on the 
 plan of your lamented friend Dr. Bell, and is 
 most anxious to see one on that truly wise and ad- 
 mirable system established in Tavistock. Many 
 persons here, and amongst the most respectable 
 classes, are equally desirous on the subject ; but un- 
 fortunately the Lancasterian plan has been now 
 some vears followed, and it is considered that, as 
 yet, the town could not support two schools ; never- 
 theless we are not Avithout hopes of one day seeing 
 the fruits of Dr. Bell's system flourish in Tavistock. 
 My husband's objections to the present plan prevent 
 his taking any active share in the management of it. 
 
 It is much to be lamented that the grammar 
 school Avliich, if well encouraged and vigorously con- 
 ducted, would be of essential benefit to the whole 
 town, has fallen much into decay ; but I have always 
 
 * Since the above was written, another society for visithi^ the sick 
 and poor has been instituted. 
 
 VOL. III. H
 
 146 THE PUBLIC LIBRARY. [lET. 
 
 entertained the hope one day to see it revived. The 
 countrj" grammar school deserves to be held in ho- 
 nour : it is, generally speaking, regulated by ancient 
 and established maxims of prudence and true wis- 
 dom : it is content to follow in the old track, and 
 to give to youth that education (founded on re- 
 ligion, the only solid basis of all education) which, 
 in other times, was able to form such characters as 
 our Hookers, our Fullers, our Taylors, and those 
 many illustrious men whose names are engraved, 
 and will for ever endure, on the solid pillar of true 
 English glory. No rank, however humble, is ex- 
 cluded from these venerable institutions; and the 
 '' towardly boy," as good Sir John Glanville ex- 
 pressed it, of any honest parents, may receive the 
 benefit (and to such a boy it would become the 
 blessing) of a sound classical education. 
 
 The next institution I have to speak of here is 
 not one of charity, but one of universal benefit : it 
 is the public Library, of which the four founders 
 deserve an honourable mention. These are (I copy 
 their names as they stand in the record now before 
 me) the Rev. E. A. Bray, Mr. John Commins, Mr. 
 John Taylor (now resident in London), and the 
 Kev. W. Evans of Park Wood. These gentlemen 
 founded tlie public library amongst themselves in 
 the year 1799. They soon entertained hopes of 
 widely extending their plan, and the Duke of Bed- 
 ford became the patron of this most useful insti- 
 tution. Numerous subscribers in a short space 
 gave in their names, and a subscription was next 
 proposed for the erection of a library to contain the 
 books, which had greatly increased in number. A 
 sum of 1000/. was, I believe, speedily raised^ of
 
 XXXVI.] THE PROPYL^tJM. 147 
 
 which 100/. was generously given by John Rundle, 
 Esq., the banker*. A beautiful building, on the mo- 
 del of the Prop3'l8eum, was erected. This stood near 
 a portion of the abbey buildings ; and was not only 
 an elegant object in itself, but, when seen fi-om the 
 hill leading towards Milton, presented so fine a 
 feature both in form and colour, that our friend Mr. 
 Harding, the landscape painter, called it a very gem 
 in the picture ; nor was it less admired by architects 
 and many persons of cultivated taste. But this 
 however was not the taste of some of the good 
 people of Tavistock. The Propylaeum stood near 
 Gothic buildings ; they argued, therefore, that the 
 library oiight to be Gothic for the sake of uniformity, 
 quite forgetting (if they ever knew it) that some of 
 the finest cities and towns of Italy, France, and 
 even some in England, are rendered not only more 
 picturesque, but are even admired on account of the 
 juxtaposition of various styles of architecture. 
 
 True it is that nothing can be more barbarous 
 than to place Grecian ornaments in a Gothic build- 
 ing; but Avhere the building stands alone, and is 
 entire and uniform in all its parts, how can it be in- 
 jured by having another building of a different 
 order in its vicinity ? The streets of Venice form 
 the most picturesque combinations; yet the build- 
 ings of Palladio often stand near those of Gothic 
 date. In Rome the same diversity may be seen ; and 
 in France, Brittany, and the Netherlands numberless 
 instances may be observed in their most admired 
 towns : and who would ever wish to pull down the 
 
 * Tlie gentleman here named is one of the present members for 
 Tavistock. In all matters of public or private charity, he has heen 
 a most liberal benefactor to his native town. 
 
 h2
 
 148 THE LIBRARY. [lET. 
 
 Eadcliffe Library at Oxford because it corresponds 
 not with the early Gothic buildings of that most 
 venerable and beautiful city? But this was not 
 such reasoning as made any impression at Tavis- 
 tock. The Library was not Gothic; and as all 
 the world began to find that, whether they did 
 so or not, they ought to admire the Gothic, the 
 noble Propylscum was voted do\\Ti at a general 
 meeting, and down it came accordingly. The only 
 good reason that I ever learned for its destruction 
 (a destruction Avhich I heard a very clever architect 
 declare he considered a serious loss to the whole 
 town) was that it was built, like some other modern 
 buildings here, for anything rather than endurance ; 
 it was in a cracked and insecure condition. How 
 far this statement might be correct I do not know, 
 but I fully credit it ; since there are those who will 
 be obstinate enough to entertain the opinion, that 
 when some of the builders here set to Avork on any 
 new structure, they calculate how soon they may 
 have to build it up again, as a thing that must hap- 
 pen of necessity. The edifices of the olden time in 
 this neighbourhood, both in the remains of the Abbey 
 and the seats of country gentlemen, ought to make 
 some of these artificers ashamed of their own work. 
 
 After the demolition of the Library was accom- 
 plished, a portion of the Abbey, above the archway, 
 that once formed the principal entrance, was fitted 
 up by the Duke of Bedford to receive the books, 
 and thither they were removed. Tlie library is still 
 supported by yearly subscriptions, and a librarian 
 receives a regular salary from the sums thus col- 
 lected. The books proposed are voted in at the 
 general meetings; newspapers and periodicals are
 
 XXXVI.] THE MUSEUM. 149 
 
 kept on the table of the reading-room, and the sub- 
 scribers may haA'e any work, diu'ing the time allowed 
 for its perusal, at their own houses. 
 
 About five years ago an institution was here 
 founded for the purpose of gi'V'ing lectvu'cs on any 
 subjects connected with art, science, or literature — 
 religion and politics being alone exckidcd, in order 
 to prevent any disputes amongst the members of the 
 society formed for its svipport. The room in which 
 the lectures are held has been handsomely fitted up 
 in the Gothic style. ]Mr. Bray has recommended 
 that, as this neighbourhood is so rich -in minerals, 
 the society should add to their institution a Museum 
 of native specimens of every kind. These could be 
 easily collected at a small ex^sense ; and geological 
 specimens, from Dartmoor and elsewhere, would 
 likoAvise be useful and appropriate in such a selec- 
 tion. A herbal also might be formed, and this 
 would stimulate 3'oung people to the pursuit of 
 botany; since it is universally admitted that no 
 county in England is more fertile than Devonshire 
 in the variety and richness of its plants*. 
 
 Some new regulations have lately been introduced 
 at our institutions, and a new librarian appointed in 
 the place of IVIr. Knight, recently deceased. I can- 
 not here resist the opportunity afforded of mention- 
 in (j a vcrv remarkable circumstance connected with 
 Mr. Knight, who was a most respectable man, which 
 was first communicated to me soon after the publi- 
 cation of my letters, addressed to you, about Mary 
 Colling. 
 
 * A museum has been commenced since Ihis letter was written ; 
 and a Statistical Society is on the point of being established with 
 every prospect of success.
 
 150 LOSS OF THE VESTAL. [lET. 
 
 You recollect the story of George Philp, who was 
 lost, together with his young son, in the Vestal, off 
 the coast of Ne^^foundland. Lieut. Edgecumbe* 
 was on board the ship; and Mr. Knight, then a 
 boy, being related to Edgecumbe, was persuaded 
 by him to go to sea in the next voyage he was to 
 make with his captain. Young Knight consented, 
 and set off to join the Vestal at Plymouth at the 
 appointed time. A trifling circumstance delayed 
 him on the road, so that on his arrival he found 
 himself too late, for the Vestal had weighed anchor, 
 and he caught sight of her, under a favouring gale, 
 far out at sea, making her Avay rapidly throvigh the 
 waves. To join her proved impossible, for though he 
 made the effort, the boat into which he immediately 
 leaped could not reach the ship ; he was therefore 
 obliged to put back. On landing, great!}' disappointed 
 in all his plans, young Knight found an old seaman, 
 standing alone on the beach, and still attentively ob- 
 serving the diminishing vessel, as she continued her 
 course through the distant waters. " That ship will 
 never return," said the old sailor, "she is over- 
 masted." His prediction was, indeed, fulfilled ; for 
 the Vestal sunk in one of those sudden squalls so 
 frequently met with on the banks of Newfoundland. 
 Mr. Knight, when he related his narrow escape from 
 joining a crew, every one of which met with a watery 
 grave, acknowledged in the most feeling manner 
 the merciful intervention of Providence in his pre- 
 servation. He recollected very well seeing poor 
 George Philp and his high-minded wife pass under 
 
 * Of the ancient family of Edf^ccnmbe, who, for more than seven 
 hundred years, have held certain lands near Milton Abbot, where the 
 old mansion stands to this day.
 
 XXXVl.] MR. KNIGHT. 151 
 
 tlie church-bow on the morning of their fatal part- 
 ing. He remembered the pecvihar expression of 
 Mrs. Philp's countenance ; not a tear was in her eye, 
 she was perfectly composed, but she looked as if 
 her heart was dead within her. She was, he added, 
 a most remarkable woman : one so resolute or so 
 patient in hard fortune he had never seen. 
 
 Mr. Knight died last year, and was interred in 
 Tavistock churchyard. He was universally re- 
 spected, and, as librarian, was a loss to the town. 
 
 In mentioning the remarkable persons of this 
 place, I should be guilty of great injustice did I 
 omit Mr. John Riuidle, the builder. This ingenious 
 man was born in a respectable but humble station 
 of life ; and on being threatened with an apprentice- 
 ship that was not congenial to his feelings, he de- 
 clared that if his friends persisted, he would run 
 away to sea ; but if they would but bring him up as a 
 carpenter, he felt in that business he could work his 
 way to something better. His wishes were granted, 
 and in the craft he had chosen he laboured for many 
 years, and was for some time employed at Dock, now 
 Devonport, in very close service ; yet so great was 
 his desire after knowledge, that, even at this period, 
 he would read any book he could possibly get likel)^ 
 to be useful to him; his opportunities, however, werQ 
 few, but he never neglected his Bible, which he 
 studied incessantly, not only as a religious, but as 
 an historical guide of the highest interest and im- 
 portance. 
 
 His health at length obliged him to quit Dock, 
 and on his return to Ta\'istock he was employed as 
 one of the carpenters in building Endsleigh Cottage 
 for his Grace the Duke of Bedford. It so chanced
 
 152 MR. RUNDLE. [lET. 
 
 that Mr. Wj-att, who made the design for that cot- 
 tage, sent down a very clever joiner as a leading 
 man in the management of the carpenters' work, 
 where it req^iired more than common skill. This 
 was a happy circumstance for Mr. Rundle, for he 
 found the joiner was so far master of the art of 
 drawing that he could " plan out " staircase lines, 
 &c. Rundle earnestly solicited that he would in- 
 struct him in this art, and very speedily acquired all 
 that his new master liad the power to teach him. 
 Delighted with his pursuit, he determined to culti- 
 vate his taste ; and having now, by good luck, access 
 to more books than formerly, he not only read for 
 improvement whenever he could steal an hoiu', but 
 he would labour all day as a carpenter, and, after 
 his return home, at six o'clock in the evening, would 
 frecpiently fag hard at teaching himself to draw till 
 one or two in the morning. 
 
 On being sent to Exeter to do some work, he 
 immediately formed tlie design of making himself 
 master of a practical knowledge of Gothic architec- 
 ture. Hour after hour would he spciid in the Ca- 
 thedral of that ancient city, till there was not the 
 minutest ornament within its walls but was familiar 
 to him. lie afterwards went to London to work in 
 his trade. There he remained but eight months ; 
 but whilst on the spot sedtdously studied, at every 
 0])portunity, the architectural wonders of the great 
 metropolis. 
 
 Soon after his return, Mr. Rundle Avas thrown 
 from a horse, and much hurt. He was confined to 
 his chamber. The confinement was irksome to him 
 at first, but he soon found a way to render it a 
 jjlcasure instead of a penance, for a mind so active
 
 XXXVI.] THE BEDFORD ARMS. 153 
 
 as his coiild never rest, and he noAV determined, 
 ^vithout knowino; a sino-le rule of the art, to com- 
 mence modelling. The result was his very clever 
 model of the Temple of Theseus, at Athens. When 
 we saw the model we expressed our surprise, as Ave 
 well might do, knowing how few had been the op- 
 portvinities of the ingenious hand that produced it. 
 But if this surprised us, judge of our astonishment 
 when Mr. Rundle produced an architectural design 
 of his own, beavitifully drawn by himself (with the 
 ground plan, sections, &c., on the same paper, be- 
 neath the elevation of the building), for a public 
 school-house, which I do not scruple to say would 
 have done credit to Sir Geoffrey Wyattville, or Mr. 
 Blorc, or any architect of the present day ; and to 
 add to all his merits, like every true child of genius, 
 he is so perfectly modest and unassuming that he 
 did not seem at all to fancy there was anything more 
 than common in his performance. He talked of 
 Gothic architecture, and Rome, and Athens, as if 
 the enthusiasm of his whole soul was centred in the 
 works of the mighty dead, and not in his own pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 Mr. Rundle is a married man, the father of three 
 children, and is universally respected. Most heartily 
 do I hope that he may meet with a patron wlio will 
 have the power to serve him as well as to appreciate 
 his merits ; for I am convinced he is one of those 
 men who want but encom-agement to become an 
 honour to themselves and to their native country. 
 
 To return from this digression to the subject of 
 our public buildings. We have an excellent inn 
 here, the Bedford Arms, alread3Mnentioned. ItAvas 
 originally a private house, built by Sanders, formerly 
 
 h3
 
 154 MISS GRECO. [let. 
 
 named, and was called the Abbey House. The late 
 Mr. Bray resided there till his death. After that 
 event the house was altered and turned into an inn. 
 The Duke of Bedford is the proprietor of the pre- 
 mises. The old Gothic room, fully described in an 
 early letter, was, about three years ago, taken down, 
 and a very handsome ball-room erected in its stead 
 by the duke. I have been in it but twice : the first 
 time was on a ball night, when from its size, and 
 the comparatively small company assembled, it was 
 dreadfully cold, and I sat shivering all the evening, 
 wishing for the old room ; the dancers, however, did 
 not complain. Since then we have had one concert 
 in it, in which there was one good vocal performer. 
 Miss Elizabeth Greco, who sings indeed delightfully, 
 possessing every qualification that nature can give 
 a vocalist — power, sweetness, taste, feeling, and the 
 most brilliant execution. From hearing our Miss 
 Greco, I found the new room was admirably well 
 adapted for music, and nothing could exceed the 
 effect she produced on the feelings of all present 
 when she accompanied her own voice mth the 
 simplest air on her harp. In London this lady's 
 talents woidd acquire for her fortune and success ; 
 here they are buried in obscurity. 
 
 We have no theatre, the town not being large 
 enough to support such a thing ; but now and then 
 a strolling company find their way here, and exhibit 
 in the Market-House. They are always, however, 
 the very humblest and poorest votaries of the sock 
 and buskin, and generally beg tlieu' way out of the 
 place. I had once, many years ago, a letter ad- 
 dressed to me by the mistress of a company of this 
 description, requesting assistance, and if I had not
 
 XXXVI.] STROLLING PLAYERS. 155 
 
 mislaid it I should have been tempted to give it 
 (suppressing- the writer's name) at full length, since 
 a more curious and original epistle never yet reached 
 my hands. The writer was an Irishwoman, as she 
 told me in the first line. Her father, she said, had 
 been a clergyman, and left her very young and very 
 poor to make her way in the world ; that a love of 
 the fine arts (for she could not put up Avith a vulgar 
 calling) and a particular love of Shakspeare induced 
 her to go on the stage, and, finally, to collect a com- 
 pany, who used to play in the provincial towns of 
 Ireland, where the strong sympathies of the people 
 for some time rendered her very successful. But 
 she had not always been wise, for she soon married 
 for love, she said, a bit of an Irish boy, who had 
 hardly a rag on him when she took him up for the 
 sake of his genius ; but he turned out a plague to her, 
 till one day he died ; but trouble did not die with 
 him, for eight or nine children, God bless them, had 
 been the sorrow and the joy of her life ; and all that 
 were alive she had brought up to be followers of 
 the stage any way, and they could spout Shakspeare 
 almost as soon as they could talk. But Shakspeare, 
 she truly added, would not fill theh bellies; and 
 strolling was a poor trade, for all toA\'ns had not 
 taste sufficient for play-going; and often she did 
 not get enough to pay candles for lighting up the 
 house. She was a \\ddow, God help her, and at that 
 time of writing the letter in great distress ; and 
 hearing, as she Avas pleased to say, I had a soul for 
 the fine arts, she thought I should feel for one whose 
 misfortunes came from loving them too well. And 
 so for the sake of all that was generous, and for the 
 love of the church, to wliich in a way, she added, we
 
 156 STROLLING PLAYERS. [lET. 
 
 both belonged, she begged a few shillings to help 
 her clear of the town, where, she thought, the good 
 people liked a show of wild beasts at a fair, or an 
 organ grinder in their streets, more than they did 
 the " bard of their land ;" for though her own 
 daughter's benefit was " billed " for Romeo and 
 Juliet, and got up to show as pretty a Juliet as ever 
 walked the boards, it had not brought more than a 
 few shillings to the house that blessed night, let 
 alone the free tickets sent in to help make up an 
 audience, and nothing the better was she for them. 
 
 This, to the best of my recollection, was the sum 
 and substance, and style of the letter. The vinfor- 
 tunate lover of the fine arts did not appeal in vain, 
 and her thanks were expressed as warmly as the 
 favour had been solicited. Poor Avoman ! I pitied 
 her with all my heart, as a day or two after, I saw 
 her from my Avindow, Avith her family, make her exit 
 from the toAA'n in a cart, laden Avith the stock of the 
 theatre ; children, scenes, and all, piled up together, 
 and the poor mother seated on the top, and calling 
 out to Juliet, the biggest girl, Avho Avas Avalking in 
 tlie mud, by the side of the vehicle, " To keep out 
 of the mire, or her petticoats Avouldn't they be as 
 black as night ?" 
 
 Strolling players are not our only occasional amuse- 
 ment liere ; Ave have shows from fairs, and otlier 
 exhibitions. Wild beasts, as the letter Avriter ob- 
 served, are great favourites here AA'hen they arrive 
 among us ; a troop of riders sometimes appear ; and 
 I remember once my pony being dreadfully startled 
 at seeing, for the first time, a dromedary Avith a 
 monkey on his back, dressed in a red jacket, Avalk 
 into the toAvn in sIoav and stately pace. At one time
 
 XXXVI.] THE PHANTASMAGORIA. 157 
 
 we had a couple of cheats, who having acquired the 
 arts of eating- beef raw. daubing their faces with rose 
 pink and lamp black, oiling their skins, and gibbering 
 like apes, were exhibited as " the extraordinary 
 male and female Esquimaux Indians, in their natural 
 state, just arrived from the North Pole, to be seen, 
 all alive and very tame, for sixpence a head — two- 
 pence more feeding times : — Walk up ladies and 
 gentlemen." This precious pair of curiosities were, 
 I have since learned, most deservedly committed to 
 Bridewell and hard labour, for six months, as vaga- 
 bonds and sharpers. 
 
 Our last sight was, 1 think, the French giant. 
 Monsieur Louis, who was nearly eight feet high. I 
 did not see him, being generally very well satisfied 
 with hearinof a full and particular account of our 
 wonders. He was, I am informed, a gentlemanly 
 man. and took the air by nights, in order that his 
 exhibition should not suffer, by making himself 
 famiUar to the common eye by day. He was very 
 much gTatified in being sent for to Endsleigh, to 
 amuse the children of the Duke of Bedford. The 
 French giant was, in fact, the most respectable of aU 
 the wonderful persons ever exhibited in this town. 
 
 Not loniT ao-o we had the Phantasmagoria. A 
 gentleman, sitting at his window, took down the 
 proclamation of this wonder from the mouth of the 
 showman. The follo\\ing is a copy, verbatim, as he 
 cried it through the streets : — 
 
 " Will be shown at the Town Hall, Tavistock, at 
 the hours of seven, eight, and nine, to the nobility 
 and gentry, what is called in the French language 
 phantasmagory, in the English, magic lantern. All 
 sorts of birds, beasts, reptiles, and pantomimes.
 
 158 MENDICANT IMPOSTORS, [lET, 
 
 'specially the forked lightning seen in many parts 
 of England, but chiefly in the East and West Ingies ; 
 also what we are and what we is to be ; namel}^ Death 
 as large as any living being — six foot high, with an 
 hour-glass in his hand ; and everything instructing 
 and amusing to all ages and societies, both the old 
 and the juvenile. I hope you will all come. If you 
 cannot all come as many as can come ; and nobody 
 can say it an't worth seeing, except he says it agin 
 his conscience. Boys and girls for the sum of one 
 penny. Their honest working parents for the sum 
 of twopence. Gentlemen and ladies, sixpence each. 
 God save us all f 
 
 As we have occasionally impostors who \'isit tliis 
 neighbourhood, so have we many in the character 
 of beggars. I could relate, from my own experience, 
 some tricks played by the latter class with daring 
 success, but I shall content myself with mentioning 
 the two most amusing instances of imposition that I 
 have ever known here. One of these occurred in 
 our own house, and both would have furnished a 
 rich subject for Qucvedo in his novel of the Spanish 
 Sharper. The following happened some years ago ; 
 I suppress nothing but the name of the party cheated, 
 having been particularly requested so to do, for it is 
 not every one Avho can make up his mind to figure 
 in the character of a dupe ; a character, however, 
 that guileless and single-hearted people are often 
 forced to appear in, by the knavery of the selfish, 
 the cunning, and the designing. 
 
 Without then being more particular, I shall merely 
 state, that some years smce there was a gentleman 
 in this town, very charitably disposed, who enter- 
 tained an especial goodwill and kind feeUng towards
 
 XXXVI.] MENDICANT IMPOSTORS. 159 
 
 old sailors. Any old sailor, by calling* at his door, 
 received the donation of a shilling and a glass of 
 grog. It Avas marvellous to see what a number of 
 veteran blue jackets paid him a visit in the course 
 of a year. At last the servant who opened the door 
 observed that all these sons of the sea had a parti- 
 cular patch on one and the same place of one and 
 the same arm. She began at length to fancy that 
 the old patch must be some badge of honour in the 
 service, and yet she thought it a very odd distinction 
 in his Majesty's navy. She mentioned her observa- 
 tion of the circumstance. It awakened suspicion. 
 The next old blue jacket that appeared, decorated 
 with the order of the patch, was therefore watched 
 and followed to his retreat. He was observed to 
 retire to the house of a certain old woman, not of 
 very good fame, and one who was grievously sus- 
 pected of the crime here known by the name of oier- 
 looking ; that is, casting an exM or witch's eye on 
 another, to do him an injury, or to bewitch him, or 
 sometimes to drive him mad. To the den of this 
 Sycorax was the son of Neptune thus traced, and in 
 a little while he was seen to come forth again, in his 
 own natural character — that of a street beggar, 
 clothed in rags. The cheat was apparent, and, 
 suffice it to saj^ that on further examination it ap- 
 peared that the old woman's house was one of 
 friendly call to all the vagabonds and sharpers who 
 paced the country round ; and that amongst other 
 masquerade attire for her friends, she kept by her a 
 sailors old jacket and trowsers for the pui'pose of 
 plapng off the imposition just detailed. No doubt 
 she was paid for the loan of the dress. 
 
 My next story relates to ourselves. On a sum-
 
 160 A CURIOUS CHRISTENING. [lET, 
 
 mer evening, last year, we were at tea, when one of 
 our servants came in and said, '• that a very poor 
 woman, who was in great trouble, had brought a 
 child to be baptized directly ; for the infant was so 
 bad with fits that the poor woman was afraid it 
 would die before it could be made a christian." 
 
 Up jumped Mr. Bray — " Get a basin of water — 
 where's the prayer book?" 
 
 " I will go too," said I, " and see the child ; per- 
 haps a little Daiby's Carminative, or something, 
 may do it good" — and away we both went into the 
 hall. 
 
 There stood a woman dressed in a large, old, 
 grey cloak, like that of a horse-soldier. An old 
 black bonnet was stuck on one side on her head, 
 beneath which strayed a quantity of long hair, that 
 seemed as if it had never felt a comb. She had a 
 face that was as full and as red as the rising moon ; 
 and her eyes, that looked at you out of theh corners, 
 had in them the sly expression of Ioav cunning. A 
 rich Irish brogue was as good as any certificate to tell 
 the land of her birth. She made us a curtsey, as she 
 stood crying and talking Irish all in a breath ; and 
 under the large cloak she seemed to be alternately 
 cuddUng and shaking a bundle, which she said was 
 a child, but the tip of whose nose even could not 
 be seen, and 1 feared it would be smothered for want 
 of air. 
 
 " Is the child very ill ?" said I, " It does not cry." 
 
 " All the worse for that, my leddy ; 1^1 be having 
 some hope of her, if I could but hear her squeal. 
 But it's no strength she has to cry ; and them fits 
 just killing her for forty-eight hours long, and no 
 keeping 'em down — and I starving — starving ! not
 
 XXXVI.] A CURIOUS CHRISTENIKG. 161 
 
 a morsel of bread, your liononr, have I had in 
 my hps smce yesterday the morn." — Here she be- 
 gan to cry most bitterly. 
 
 " Have you been to the overseer ?" said Mr. Bray, 
 " If you are so distressed, he is obliged to give you 
 immediate relief and a nighf s lodging." 
 
 "And is it the overseer, your honour's spaldng 
 of? I've been at his door morn and eve, and he's 
 away, and far out, and they tells me he'll not be 
 back till twelve o'clock the night, and that's a dark 
 hour for asking help, and I with the sick babby ; 
 and nothing left to sell, or to give to get a lodging, 
 or a crust to keep life and sowl together, and as 
 naked, all but my auld cloak, as a new-born babe. 
 Only see, your honour, and satisfy yourself" — And 
 so saying, she rather unceremoniously threw back 
 part of her cloak (but still kept the child muffled 
 up) and by so doing, obliged Mr. Bray to look 
 another way, for, truth to speak, she was not over- 
 burthcned with clothes. He put his hand into his 
 pocket and gave her a piece of silver. 
 
 " And is it a shilling ? may God bless your honour, 
 for copper's the best charity I ever had afore. And 
 now well christen the child ; and then the Icddy 
 there -will be giving me an auld garment, that I 
 may go away like a christian mudder from the 
 door." 
 
 '•What is the childs name to be?" inquired 
 Mr. Bray, opening the book. 
 
 "Antonio, your honour." 
 
 "Antonio ! " said I, " I thought you told us just 
 now the child was a girl." 
 
 " Very like, my leddy, for I didn't know Avhat I 
 was saying by raison of my head being turned with
 
 162 A CURIOUS CHRISTENI>-G. [leT. 
 
 tlicy fits— but a "boy it is for sure ; and liis fader's a 
 Portugee and a sogier; and he's away, over tlie 
 water, and I and the babby left behind— Hush, hush, 
 hush, my dear Uttle darhng." 
 
 "The cliild is not crying," said I, "it seems re- 
 markably quiet." 
 
 "I do it to make him still while the minister's 
 over the book, my leddy ; for hell squeal by and 
 by, Avhen the fits take liim, A^-ith the sprinkle of the 
 ^vater — and may be you'll hear such a squealing as 
 j-ou never heard afore ; for sometimes he's all black 
 in the face along A\ad the disease. But there'll be 
 comfort in seeing him a clu'istian before he goes 
 away dead." 
 
 Mr. Bray commenced the ser\ice, the mother stilt 
 shaking the child, and keeping it closely muffled up 
 in the " auld cloak ;" but when it came to that part of 
 the ceremony that the infant must be uncovered to 
 receive the sprinkling — out she brought, in a mo- 
 ment, a fine bouncing child, as rosy as a rose, that 
 could not have been very far from two years old at 
 least, with stout limbs and firm flesh ; and the little 
 fellow looked up the very picture of health, smiling 
 and well pleased to undergo the rite of baptism, — a 
 ceremony to which, no doubt, he was pretty AveU ac- 
 customed. That was concluded ; and fuUy convinced 
 that the woman was a cheat, we speedily got rid of 
 her, and though she made a resolute attempt, no 
 " auld garment" did she get from me to pawn at the 
 next town. 
 
 A day or two afterwards, Ave happened to dine at 
 the house of a neighbouring clergyman. There we 
 found that little Antonio had also been baptized in 
 his fits ; and it was very confidently believed he had
 
 XXXVI.] A MONSTROUS SNAKE. 163 
 
 been carried round the country to as many of the 
 clergy as were likely to be cheated into any sort of 
 compassionate donation. 
 
 In speaking- of the wonders of this neighbourhood, 
 I quite forgot to mention one, which was here so 
 exagfserated by rumour, that some of the ffood 
 people at last came to the conclusion that the cause 
 of alarm, a very large snake, was nothing less for- 
 midable in bulk than the great boa itself. 
 
 I think it was in the summer of 1828 that an ap- 
 plication was made to a magistrate to issue an order, 
 for the security of the neighbourhood, that a cer- 
 tain monstrous snake, first seen in Pixy Lane, and 
 afterwards in our orchard, should be well looked 
 after. If the magistrate vras to issue tliis order to 
 apprehend tlie snake, or to secure the attention of 
 the constables, the applicants themselves did not 
 ver}^ clearly define. I never heard such a story as 
 speedily found its way amongst the lovers of the 
 marvellous. No doubt, hoAvever, the snake that 
 had been seen was an extraordinary one; and, as 
 a matter of curiosity, I set to work to learn the 
 most credible account of it that could be met mth. 
 One boy offered to take his "bible oath" that 
 he was leading up (/. e. walking up) Pisgey Lane 
 with another lad, and on going to the hedge to 
 pick something, a great snake leapt out, over the 
 little boy's shoulder, as he was standing beneath ; 
 crossed the road -with great rapidity, and an old 
 man who was near the spot, declared that the body 
 of the long cripple (for so they here call a snake) 
 was as thick as his thigh ; and so long, that he 
 would not say how long it could be. 
 
 I also heard an old woman, considered here a wise
 
 164 A MONSTROUS SNAKE. [lET, 
 
 one, declare, " the reptile was for all the world just 
 such another snake as tempted Eve to cat the apple." 
 In our orchard, however, it produced a very dif- 
 ferent effect; for the formidable monster, luckily 
 for us, having been there last seen, proved as good 
 a guard as any dragon to the fruits there found, so 
 that we had fewer apples stolen that year than we 
 ever had before. What became of the snake no 
 one could tell ; but not in the days of monkish su- 
 perstition could more extravagant tales respecting 
 a reptile have been circulated or believed. On 
 hearing these, I no longer wondered at the .credulity 
 of the old chronicler, who recorded that marvellous 
 story about the monstrous snake at Rouen in Nor- 
 mandy, which swallowed knights whole, armour, horse 
 and all, and at last required a saint himself to 
 kill it.
 
 xxxvii.] 165 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — Old survey of the town in 1726 — A few brief items ex- 
 tracted, which any reader may pass over if he feels no interest 
 in them — Little herb-garden given to the schoolmaster, &c. — Ta- 
 vistock a borough town — Court Lcet and Court Baron — Court 
 of Record — Manor of Tavistock — Burgesses — Markets — Ancient 
 Guildhall; still the court of justice — Remarkable feud between the 
 towns of Tavistock and Oakhampton — Death of Carter Foote — 
 Healthy state of the town — Longevity of the people — Rejoicing on 
 the passing the Reform Bill — Procession — Population — Yearly 
 deaths — Tlie doctors — The country doctor ; his useful and labo- 
 rious calling — The plague of 1626 — Assizes removed from Exeter 
 to Tavistock in 1591 on account of the plague — An extraordinary 
 instance of disease, believed to be the plague, in modern times — 
 The cholera first appeared here in 1832; melancholy instance of its 
 fatal effects — Humble life; examples of the most patient suffering 
 frequently found in it — Accidents in mines — Affecting story of a 
 widow and her son — A remarkable instance of patient submission to 
 the will of God in continued and severe affliction, seen in a poor 
 widow well known to the writer — The widow's tale. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, June 21sY, 1833. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I HAVE this morning been looldng over some 
 notes made from "a survey and valuation of tlie 
 site of the Abbey of Tavistock, together with the 
 demesnes and manor of Hurdwich, in the county of 
 Devon, belonging to the most noble Wriothcslcy, 
 Duke of Bedford," taken l)y Humphrey Smith 
 in 1726. 
 
 I find in this few particulars of any import which 
 I have not already noticed, excepting some brief items
 
 166 rOWX RECORDS. [1..EI- 
 
 th&t OQg^t not to be omitted, as they form a portion 
 (f the h^oiT of the toiiiii. in its minor details. 
 
 William, the first Duke of Bed&rd, bnilt a house 
 Ibar the schoolmaster, and gare him a "little herb- 
 garden,'^ rent fiee. Adjoining the same, and then 
 sitoated within the chnrchyard. tras the school-house 
 belonging to the town: which JohtiEari of Bedford, 
 byhfedeedpolL dated the 6th of Edw. VI., granted 
 §ar two hundred years, with toUs and profits of three 
 &xrs, with a court of pypowder, and a weekly market 
 on Fridays, as bendkctions. 
 
 Since whidi the town has built, at its own cost, a 
 maiket-houseswhmethe cross formerly stood. •• All 
 irindh profits and liberties," says the survey, - are 
 within the borough of Taxistock, and for the use of 
 Ae schoolmaster, and may be worth comm^ annis 
 222., whidi lease expires Anno Dom., 1753. 
 
 ^ Taristock,'' continues this document, ** is a bo- 
 loo^ by prescription, and of great antiquity. Tt 
 eonsists of a portreere and about one hundred and 
 ten freeholdeTs *. The Duke of Bedford's steward 
 holds a court leet and court baron twice' a-vear : 
 Tir. Itfifhaehnas and Lady-day. 
 
 ''At the fifcrst court, the jury returns four persons, 
 out of which the steward nominates one for portree ve^r 
 and sweais him in fijr the year. The members of 
 Paihament are elected by the ms^ority of the free- 
 holders, and ictomed by the portreeTe. The weekly 
 nmket on Frids^ is conaderable. Five foirs are 
 
 * "Has was im. 173^ He itSkmrns irtatonent. I hare been £a^ 
 ^natiwiA teaimmm foesewoL'PveLirteeez — ^Xn^aer of volas (readeady 
 ■ flie BcfiMKL ffiD, 31; ditto jBranrs,2; om-ieade^ 
 oAf ifcT"^^*^ fceGK; dK laaia^ Oae bOL bat 
 iifitfSg ■»■ iif liili III, Ifrrint^ tit i £TftffT «i»«*anif*> rtmn iBpy^^ 
 ,9. K^^ler of votes «BaeT€beBeSbrm.^^S.
 
 XXXni.] TOWW BECORDS. 167 
 
 held during the year, tiz., St. MailE's, 23Td of April, 
 and two days following; St- Andrew's, 28th of No- 
 Tember, and three days following; St John's, 29th 
 of Angnst, the ere, and two days following; tweifith 
 fair, 6th of Jannary, and the day following. 
 
 " This horongh is goremed (1726) by eight mas- 
 ters, the Doke of Bedford's steward at the head of 
 them. There are lands belonging to ibe same^ wordi 
 607. per annnm^ which these masters ^propriate 
 mostly to the repairs of the chnrch. They hare a 
 magistratical power of committing o^nders. The 
 lord (confinnes the old sorrey) has a gaol in this 
 Ids borough, and two seijeants at mace; one of 
 which is keeper of the prison, and has a house to fire 
 in rent free, and a salary f<nr atten£ng the sessions 
 anr! ^,=^^'.7^5. The lord has also a Hundred called 
 H.L :: also Taxistock Hundred, with a Court 
 
 c : P - ^ : "®fy three weeks, power of granting 
 
 repleirins, breaking open with and returns thereat. 
 There is tikewise a weekty Court of Hecord h^dd every 
 Tuesday, at the Guildhall of the saidborougli. 
 
 " The manor of Taristock was most likely held by 
 Oigar, who kept his court here till the Abbey was 
 erected; for we find by a charter of King Henry L, 
 recited by Inspeximus, in a charter of confirmation 
 made 21st of Edward HI., that the king granted to 
 the Abbey the Jurisdiction and Hundred of Ta- 
 Tistock, with market, £urs, &c., with the view of 
 frank-pledge, gallows, pillory, assize of bread and 
 beer, &c. All which privileges were challenged by 
 the abbot in the reign of Edward I., and enjoyed 
 by his successors till the dissolution of monasteoes 
 in 1.539- 
 
 "The portreere has po^essed the poiilege cf
 
 168 TOWN RECORDS. [lET. 
 
 being returning officer of the burgess elected to serve 
 in Parliament ; for we ilncl they made three returns in 
 King Edward I., and King Edward II.'s reign : and 
 have constantly sent their representatives ever since 
 the befrinnins: of Kins; Edward III/s time. The list 
 of the buriresses who have served in Parliament for 
 this borough, begins the 23rd of Edward I. ; but 
 is continued for no more than two other elections, 
 till the beginning of King Edward III.'s reign, 
 whence it is carried on entire (except in the four 
 reigns before mentioned, when the rolls are lost) to 
 the 12th of her late Majesty Queen Anne. The 
 members of Parliament for this corporation now 
 serving, in 1726, are 
 
 " Sir John Cope, jun., Bart. 
 
 "Francis Henry Dralce, Esq." 
 
 That this town was formerly of far greater note 
 than at the present time cannot be doubted; the 
 various historical records of its importance hereto- 
 fore mentioned are sufficient proof of the fact. Ta- 
 ^^stockis still considered to possess one of the finest 
 markets in the West of England for corn : and the 
 woollen manufacture is still carried on ; but not with 
 that success, nor with that superiority in the article 
 produced when the " Tavistock kersey" sold in 
 London was sure to procure the highest prices, and 
 to be hekl unrivalled in the excellence of its manu- 
 facture. Indeed only the most common serges are 
 now made here. And as to the market, though 
 abundant in poultry and butter, it is by no means a 
 cheap one ; and is more famous for tough, lean, and 
 miserable beef, and hard mutton, than for anything 
 else that I have ever been able to discover. Let
 
 XXXVII.] ANCIENT FEUD. 169 
 
 me, however, do justice to the pigs ; since to them 
 wc owe bacon and hams equal to any produced from 
 the Hampshire hogs. Our market is ver^- large and 
 crowded every Friday throughout the year. There 
 is a smaller market on Fridays. 
 
 The Guildhall, mentioned in the survey above 
 quoted, is still the court of justice. There Mr. Bray 
 has performed the duties of a magistrate for nearly 
 twenty years; but, considering himself entitled to 
 the privilege of superannuation, he is now relieved 
 by some gentlemen in the neighbourhood, and 
 seldom makes his appearance in the hall. There 
 is a good deal of business here for the magistrates, 
 and formerly there must have been even more, 
 since Mr. Bray's father could recollect barristers 
 pleading in the Guildhall of Tavistock as in a court 
 of assize. 
 
 Amongst other remarkable circumstances respect- 
 ing this town, one is the extraordinary feud, still the 
 theme of tradition, which for years existed between 
 the Tavistock and the Oakhampton people. How 
 this feud commenced I do not know ; if it is to be 
 traced back to the times when some Norman Baron 
 was lord of the latter place, and lived with his re- 
 tainers perched on the top of a high hill in the strong 
 castle there situated, of which nothing but a heap 
 of picturesque ruins now remains ; if tlie monks of 
 our abbey had any share in this quarrel; if they 
 excommunicated the baron, or armed their yeomanry 
 and tenantry against him, are all matters for amusing 
 conjecture, and will do, as well as any other cause, 
 to fancy as the beginning of so lasting and deadly a 
 feud between two neighbouring towns ; or possibly 
 tlie wars of the red and white roses (and hot wars 
 
 VOL. m. I
 
 170 STORY OF CARTER FOOTE. [lET. 
 
 were they in the West) might have occasioned it ; 
 or even a less matter ; — rivalry in trade, or, in more 
 modern times, rivalry of whig and tory principles ; 
 since, with some individual exceptions, Tavistock is 
 noted for espousing the former, and Oakhampton 
 the latter in politics. Let the cause of hatred, how- 
 ever, be what it may, certain it is the two towns 
 have hated each other with hearty good will from 
 generation to generation ; and, as one proof of the 
 fact, take the following story, for the truth of which I 
 have many respectable living authorities. 
 
 There was some years ago a character of this 
 borough, in humble life, whose name was Carter 
 Foote. On returning from Oakhampton, whither 
 he had journeyed on business, he remoimted his 
 horse, after having enjoyed himself at the public- 
 house, and attempted to pass the river below the 
 bridge, by fordiiig it over. The day had been stormy, 
 and one of those sudden swells of the river (that 
 sometimes happen in hilly countries where the cur- 
 rents rush rapidly fi-om the moors) taking place, he 
 found himself in extreme danger. After lono- en- 
 deavouring to struggle with the current, he leapt 
 from his horse upon a large portion of rock, which 
 still kept its head above water ; and there the unfor- 
 tunate man stood calling aloud for help, though his 
 cries Avcrc scarcely audible, from the roaring of the 
 wind and the water. 
 
 Some person going by ran and procured a rope, 
 which he endeavoured to throw towards the rock ; 
 but finding it impossible to do so without furtlier 
 assistance, he begged two men, belonging to Oak- 
 ham])ton, who drew near the spot, to give him help 
 and save the stranger, whose life was in so much
 
 XXXVII.] REFORM PUOCESSIOK. 171 
 
 peril. One of them, however, very leisurely looked 
 at the sufferer, and only sayins^ " 'Tis a Tav'stock 
 man, let un go," walked off with his companion, and 
 poor Carter Foote was drowned. 
 
 Our town is considered, and justly so, remarkably 
 healthy ; it has abundance of water, and the wind 
 which sweeps across the valley, affords a constant 
 change of air, whilst the river is rapid, and there are 
 no stagnant pools. The parish register proves that 
 the inhabitants live to be very old ; many die beyond 
 eighty, some beyond ninety. On looking over that 
 record yesterday, I saw an entry of the burial of Eliza- 
 beth Gendal, who died very lately at the age of one 
 hundred and two. Last year this poor woman with 
 another, whose name is Jones, and who is nearly 
 one hundred years old, sat together at tea, in the 
 open streets, when there was a grand rejoicing for 
 the passing of the Reform Bill ; an event which was 
 here celebrated by feasting and a procession. 
 
 I saw very little of these rejoicings, for I was at 
 the time a great invalid ; but I received full accounts 
 of them from both parties; and the procession which 
 passed our door was, 1 had been previously informed, 
 classically got up. Now what the classics of Ta- 
 vistock might be (if this were correct information) 
 would puzzle a scholar or an antiquary to de- 
 termine. St. George figured in the procession, 
 dressed like one of Mr. Astley's riders. Moses 
 walked carrying a wooden table of the ten com* 
 mandments ; what part he had to play in the re- 
 joicings I do not know. Joseph, too, was there, in 
 his coat of many colours ; Bishop Blaze likewise 
 joined the company in a woollen wig ; and Jason 
 appeared bearing the golden fleece, and dressed in a 
 
 t2
 
 172 SALUBRITY OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 coclced liat. Such was our classical Tavistock proces- 
 sion in honour of reform ! To me the most gratify- 
 insT circumstance of the day was to see the okl and 
 the poor eating a good dinner "which cost them 
 nothing. 
 
 I mentionedjust now that Tavistock was a healthy 
 place ; hut I did not therefore mean to say that 
 tlie people never fell sick, or never died in it. For 
 however good the air may be, or however great our 
 advantages, sickness and death will come in various 
 shapes among us, to claim their dues of poor morta- 
 lity here the same as every where else. Yet consi- 
 dering that, according to the last census, we have in 
 this parish a population of 5602, about one hundred 
 deaths yearly are not man}'. If the doctors could 
 keep off sickness, Ave have here no lack of them ; and 
 as they have one and all tendered their services with 
 no other reward than the good deed Avill afford them, 
 to administer their help to the poor, when the Dis- 
 pensary in this town was lately established, they 
 deserve a most honourable mention, and that I feel 
 a pleasure in giving them. Indeed a country doctor, 
 the most laborious, the least known, beyond his own 
 immediate sphere, and the greatest slave of the 
 public, is one of its most useful and meritorious 
 servants. His life is harder than that of a miner ; 
 for though the miner may toil all day, he may sleep 
 in his bed at night ; but the country doctor, in hail, 
 rain, snow, or storm, must turn out of a warm bed 
 and ride, often to the dreary waste of Dartmoor, 
 through rough roads and darkness, at the call of 
 lunnanity, and frequently has, as his reward, to con- 
 tend with tlie prejudices of obstinacy and ignorance, 
 or is supplanted at last, as I have known instances.
 
 XXXVII.] THE PLAGUE IN 1626. 173 
 
 by some old woman called in to cliarm the patient, 
 as a more infallible mode of cure than all the learned 
 experience of the faculty : Avhilst, if he deviates, in 
 desperate cases, from the most ordinary practice, or 
 wishes to open the body after death, he is looked 
 upon as a monster and a brute, having no touch of 
 human feeling in his nature. He is called in to give 
 assistance in moments of suffering, fear, and doubt, 
 when if his patient places confidence in his skill, he 
 comes to liim as an angel of hope ; and is trusted as 
 an oracle, or as if he could set at defiance the course 
 of mortality ; but let the patient be cured, and the 
 country doctor no longer wanted, let his bill be de- 
 livered, and then comes the murmiu'ing, and the 
 medicine is considered and calculated by the shop- 
 selling price; whilst the doctors time, his education, 
 his long season of study in the hospitals and the 
 dissecting-room, his broken sleep, his night rides, 
 his wear and tear of constitution, and liis anxiety of 
 mind, go for nothing in the account: and however 
 great may have been his services, or inadecpiato 
 their reward, he too often finds it difficult to con- 
 vince his discontented patient that a thankless mind 
 is in the worst state of moral disease. 
 
 By inquiring amongst our medical men here (and 
 more particularly of our own esteemed and skilfid 
 surgeon) I find that disorders of an inflammatory 
 nature are most common in this town and neiirh- 
 bourhood. Inflammations of the lungs, typhus 
 fever, rheumatism, and that deadl}'^ foe to children, 
 the croup, sometimes occur. There is, too, in Devon- 
 shire, a dangerous cholic, probably the consecjuence 
 of drinking cider when heated with exercise. 
 
 I have before mentioned the ravages the plague 
 made in this place in the year 1026, when the mar-
 
 174 A CASE OF THE PLAGUE. [lET. 
 
 ket was held amono;st the druidical circles on Dart- 
 moor. We have still a tradition current here, that 
 during the time the pestilence raged the town was 
 so deserted, that tlie grass grew between the stones 
 in the streets. It is also said that a very malig- 
 nant fever visited Tavistock about a century ago, 
 when the market was again removed to Hurdwick. 
 In the year 1591, whilst the plague swept off the 
 inhabitants of Exeter in such awful numbers, the 
 summer assizes of that city were removed to our 
 town; and thirteen persons, convicted of capital 
 crimes, were executed on the Abbey green. 
 
 A medical man here, not long since, related to me 
 a most curious instance of disease, which occurred 
 in the lifetime of his father, who was also a profes- 
 sional gentleman. The case in question he confi- 
 dently believed to have been a real instance of the 
 plague. The circumstances alluded to occurred 
 many years ago ; they were as follows : — 
 
 A young man of Tavistock, named Strong, pur- 
 chased a second-hand great coat at Plymouth ; the 
 coat came from abroad, and had been taken from a 
 vessel just come into the harbour. If that vessel 
 had previously performed quarantine or not I could 
 not learn. Three or four days after Strong had 
 worn the coat, he became ill, and complained of great 
 pain in the arm. This increased, inflammation ap- 
 peared in the limb, and he suffered from violent 
 fever : at first it was entirely of an inflammatory 
 character, but rapidly assumed that of typhus. Sup- 
 puration also took place in the arm, which soon 
 became gangrenous ; and on the fourth or fifth day 
 he died. His father and another son were very soon 
 taken ill in the same way, and also died. What part 
 of the body was more particularly affected in these
 
 XXXVll.] CHOLERA IN TAVISTOCK. 175 
 
 persons the medical gentleman who related the case 
 to me did not know ; but he believes the disease was 
 exactly of the same character as in the first victim, 
 differing only in progress, being far more rapid in 
 its changes and in death. Two men attended the 
 funerals of these unfortunate persons, both of them 
 were seized v/ith the fatal contagion ; one died, but 
 the other, whose arm was also in a state of supj)u- 
 ration, was with extreme difficulty saved. These 
 repeated instances proved, beyond a doubt, the con- 
 tagious nature of the disease, whatever it might have 
 been. The clothing, &c. belonging to the dead 
 were destroyed, and no other cases occurred ; little 
 doubt was entertained but that the plague had been 
 communicated to the first victim by the coat pur- 
 chased from the vessel : it is not improbable it might 
 have belonged to some one who died abroad of the 
 pestilence. 
 
 The cholera first appeared in Tavistock on the 
 16th of July, in the year 1832, when a poor woman, 
 who had come over from Plymouth to sell baskets at 
 Laracrton fair, was suddenly taken so ill there, that 
 she was placed in a cart and brought to this town, 
 to the door of Mr. Harness, a surgeon of great skill, 
 and of no less humanity. Her husband, and a child 
 at the breast, were with her. The woman was re- 
 moved to the poor-house in so dangerous a state, that 
 most of the medical men who saw her pronounced 
 she would not be living by twelve o'clock that night. 
 To the honour of Mr. Harness be it spoken, he paid 
 her tlie most unremitting attention; and God so 
 far blessed the strenuous means he adopted, that 
 she survived the shock. On the 21st, however, she 
 appeared in such extreme danger, in consequence
 
 176 A DISTRESSING CASE. [LET. 
 
 of the child not having been allowed to relieve her in 
 the manner nature points out, that in order to save 
 her, and in the hope that the disorder would not be 
 conveyed by the milk, as the worst symptoms of 
 cholera had ceased, the baby was put to the breast. 
 But alas ! that Avhich was designed to sustain life, 
 became to the poor child a speedy and deadly 
 poison. I will not dwell on the detail of circum- 
 stances so painful to every feeling mind. After suf- 
 ferings the most terrific, the infant died of the pesti- 
 lence in about twenty-four hours after it had first 
 been seized. According to the order of council 
 this innocent victim was interred, not in the church- 
 yard, but in a spot chosen for a cholera burial 
 ground, on the side of a hill near the town. It is a 
 quiet and a pleasing spot ; there repose the earthly 
 remains of the poor child. Two other persons, who 
 died of the same disease, were likewise there iu*- 
 terred. In record of the melancholy event above 
 detailed, Mr. Bray has written the following distich 
 by way of epitaph : — 
 
 " Unconscious martyr ! from a mother's breast, 
 
 Thy death, her life, was drain'd : — and now thou'rl blest." 
 
 On the day after the funeral I rode up the hill, 
 and stopped to look upon the infant's grave. It was 
 a sunny and delightful evening, and as I drew near 
 a bird rose fluttering and singing from the new- 
 heaped mound of earth. This little circumstance 
 brought to my mind those beautiful lines on the bu- 
 rial of Madelon, and I could not but feel their truth. 
 
 " A lark sprung up aloft, 
 And soar'd amid the sunshine carolling, 
 So ftdl of joy, that to the mourner's car 
 More mournfully than dirge or passing l.'cU 
 His joyful carol came."'
 
 XXXVn.] TALES OF AFFLICTION. 177 
 
 I have in these letters more than once followed 
 your advice in collecting such short and simple 
 annals of the poor as I could here find of any 
 interest. 
 
 In collecting these how often have I thought that 
 in humble life, especially in the country, hov»' much, 
 in the most aggravated trials of sickness, poverty, 
 and suffering, there may be found of patience, of a 
 quiet submission to the Divine will, that if witnessed 
 in those known to the world would be celebrated as 
 heroic examples of piety and virtue, "Few," says 
 an eminent French writer, "can discover superior 
 merit, cither of talent or of virtue, unless it is 
 pointed out to them by some one who possesses the 
 power as well as the will to bring it into notice ; 
 but all will pay to both the most striking homage 
 when consecrated by the voice of public fame." 
 
 This is true ; and as examples of private worth 
 arc not less useful than those of the most public 
 character, even when found amongst the poorest of 
 the poor, it is a pleasing as well as a desirable task 
 to give them a record ; notwithstanding that record 
 may itself become neglected: some solitary eye may 
 glance on it, some heart Avhich repines in secret 
 under similar trials and difficulties may be touched 
 and encouraged by seeing how much of consolation, 
 of comfort, may be found in bearing with a christian's 
 hope, and a christian's resignation, those strokes of 
 fortune that are, more or less, the lot of all, though 
 it is true many seem to have more than their share 
 of "the ills that flesh is heir to." 
 
 In this neighbourhood accidents frequently occur 
 in the mines : some are of a nature too appalling 
 for repetition. One which I cannot even now recol- 
 
 i3
 
 178 TALES OF AFFLICTION. [lET. 
 
 Icct without shuddering, will find its way to every 
 heart, so deeply was the sufferer an object of general 
 commiseration. 
 
 There is in this town a poor widow, who has 
 several children, and earns her bread as a chare- 
 woman, or in other daily labours. Her eldest soil 
 I well remember; he was a fair headed, fresh- 
 coloured youth, of a pleasing countenance ; very 
 fond of his mother, quiet and harmless, but con- 
 sidered rather weak in his intellects ; and perhaps 
 on this account he was her favourite child. The 
 widow had taken great pains to rear him, and was 
 so tender over him, that when I saw her with the 
 poor lad, I used to think of a line by the unfortunate 
 Neale, — 
 
 " The bird that we nurse is the bird that we love." 
 
 She was very poor, and at last succeeded in get- 
 ting some work for her son in the mines that he was 
 equal to undertaking. I saw him with her not 
 long after, when she one day brought him to our 
 house, in the ^ride of her heart, to tell me that her 
 " dear boy was like a man now, for he could honestly 
 get his own bread," and she repeated with a mo- 
 ther's fondness the proofs of his good conduct, his 
 attention to work, how regular he was in his hours 
 of returning home to her, and that not a penny was 
 idly spent ; " She blessed God for him as a comfort 
 to her, and the bits of children she had to bring up." 
 
 For some time I saw no more of her, till one day 
 I was in the kitchen giving some orders to the 
 servants. The door was open — in rushed the poor 
 widow, without any previous intimation of her being 
 near the house — she threw herself into an old oak
 
 XXXVII.] TALES OF AFFLICTION. 179 
 
 chair that stood by the fire, clasped her hands to- 
 gether, and with a countenance hvid as death, and 
 wild in its expression, exclaimed, in a frantic man- 
 ner, " He is killed, killed, my boy, my poor son ! 
 God have mercy on me, I have lived to see him 
 brought home a corpse — my boy, my dear boy !" 
 
 Shocked at the intelligence, and alarmed for the 
 poor mother, I stood for a moment unable to speak 
 to her. When I did so, and endeavoured to learn 
 some connected account, for all attempts to soothe 
 her feelings must have been ineffectual at such a 
 moment, she was in so distracted a state that she 
 scarcely seemed to know me, and I could learn 
 nothing more than that the lad was killed in the 
 mines, and had been brought home a corpse to her 
 door. It appeared, however, as I afterwards heard^ 
 that her son had quitted her that morning to go to 
 his work : he parted from her wth a kiss, and 
 said, "Mother, God bless you." I could not re- 
 peat the horrid particulars of the accident by which 
 he met his death : he was entangled in one of the 
 wheels of the machinery in the mine ; need more 
 be said to intimate his dreadful fate ? Happily he 
 did not linger; he Avas instantly disengaged by 
 the exertion of his fellow-labourers, but he was 
 quite dead; and without giving his poor mother 
 any notice, they carried home the body to her door. 
 This, for the time, maddened her, as it well miirht 
 do, and for some hours she was unconscious of every 
 thing but the deep and overpowering calamity that 
 had deprived her of her darling son. She had, I 
 was told, seen the body laid out as if she did not see 
 it, and then watched it with an eagerness that
 
 180 TALES OF AFFLICTION. [lET. 
 
 seemed as if she looked for some slight sign of re- 
 turning life. 
 
 Another incident connected with her melancholy 
 tale must not remain unnoticed. The poor, the 
 very poor, deeply as they feel, have not leisure to 
 give their days exclusively to grief. The Avidow 
 had other children, and for them she was obliged to 
 do many little things even Avhilst the poor lad lay 
 a corpse. If what I now have to mention occurred 
 on the day of, or before, the funeral, I cannot tell, 
 but I rather think the former; and though I have 
 often seen her since, I never could be so unfeeling 
 as to ask her any questions connected with that 
 dreadful event. 
 
 She came again to our house after the accident ; 
 her manner was less frantic, but her expressions of 
 sorrow were still wild and energetic. She was in 
 tears ; and she sobbed so much at first that she could 
 scarcely tell me what new grief had added fresh 
 bitterness to her heart-rending loss. " Something," 
 she said, " had hurt her so — she could not have be- 
 lieved it possible that any body could have been 
 so wicked, so cruel to one like her ; a widow woman 
 with her small children, and her dear boy just 
 killed; it Avas cruel — it was so unfeeling." It was, 
 indeed; for tlie poor creature told me that she had 
 " washed out her own apron and her little children's 
 frocks, that thej'^ might all be decent, and have 
 
 on them a bit of black riband for poor " she 
 
 stopped, for she could not speak his name, her sobs 
 would not let her. She continued — '* For his fu- 
 neral ; and she hung them near her door, and some- 
 body had stolen part of them, and carried them off;
 
 XXXVII.] TALES OF AFFLICTION. 181 
 
 and at sucli a time it was so cruel: it was a wicked, 
 a miserable world ; well might the clergyman thank 
 the Lord, as he stood over the grave, for those he 
 took out of it to himself." 
 
 I do not know if the mingled expression of her 
 grief for the loss of her son, and her sense of such 
 a want of human feeling in the person, whoever he 
 might be, that had done her the little injury she 
 sustained at such an hour, was not even more pain- 
 ful to witness than her first frantic burst of sorrow. 
 In the former there was something appalling ; but 
 in the latter there was the expression of a mind 
 broken do^^^l with misery, and even morbidly alive 
 to the least thing that could add but a feather's 
 weight to that affliction. The circumstances above 
 related, connected vnih the melancholy death of her 
 son, made an impression on me that I shall feel and 
 remember as long as life endures. 
 
 There is another poor widow here who comes 
 indeed evcrv week to assist the servants in our 
 house ; and who, for the patience with which she 
 endured the trials of many years, and her most 
 honest character, deserves mention. She is more 
 than seventy : her name is Jenny Dobson : a more 
 single-hearted creature never lived. Her coun- 
 tenance, always placid, possesses such a marked 
 character of honesty and benevolence, that it 
 would excite a feeling of interest for her, even 
 vnih a stranger. Poor Jenny's life was, for years, 
 one of trials and calamities. Ilcr husband was 
 sickly ; and in him she had to bear with the frequent 
 consecjuenccs of long-continued sickness — a peevish 
 temper. She had many children, and owing to his 
 ailing state the burthen of bringing tliem up fell
 
 182 TALES OF AFFLICTION. [lET. 
 
 cliiefly on herself. Her second son, a good young 
 man, married and became the father of a family : he 
 •was taken from them by a dreadful fate. He was 
 killed by a fall of the earth from a sand-pit where 
 he was at work, and was literally crushed to pieces. 
 
 Her eldest son, a labourer, after working in a 
 turnip-field, loaded the cart he had been driving. 
 Unfortunately he twisted the halter, by which he 
 was to lead the horse home, round his arm. The 
 animal took fright, and set off at full gallop. In 
 vain did he endeavour to disentangle his arm ; the 
 unhappy young man was dragged across two fields, 
 and so dreadfully was he injured, that instant death 
 would have been a mercy : he lingered, however, 
 from the Friday till the Monday, when he expired. 
 
 Another of Jenny's sons, whose sufferings and 
 whose patience under them, all, who knew him 
 here, well remember, was the victim of a fatal acci- 
 dent. He received a kick in the forehead from a 
 horse : it turned to a cancer ; and for nine years, 
 such was the natural strength of his constitution, he 
 lingered in the utmost misery. During this time 
 his wife (for he had married early in life, and was 
 the father of several children) and his mother 
 nursed him with the greatest tenderness and care; 
 and the wife, by her incessant labour in weaving 
 serges, and with the help of individual charities, 
 maintained them all with a decency and neatness 
 that deserved the highest commendation. Distress 
 and her sick husband were never pleaded as an ex- 
 cuse for the slightest neglect ; and I am told by her 
 mother-in-law that she would work cheerfully even 
 in those hours when she really wanted rest from her 
 incessant labour. At length, worn out by suffering.
 
 XXXVII.] TALES OF AFFLICTION. 183 
 
 the poor husband's constitution broke up altoge- 
 ther ; and in a few months after he died of dropsy 
 on the chest. 
 
 This morning, that I might make no mistakes in 
 relating these melancholy particulars, our poor old 
 Jenny answered a few questions I put to her ; and 
 before she quitted me, told me all the sad sufferings 
 of her whole life. She said, " She could scarcely 
 tell when her troubles first began ; for she married 
 very young, and her husband was but a labourer 
 in the fields, and she had soon more children than 
 she could find food to give them. And often had 
 she been obliged to dine oflp the most common 
 barley bread, and she used to run home from her 
 own daily work and give the little things a meal of 
 potatoes, and what struggles were hers to get them 
 clothes enough to put on their backs !" 
 
 The latter days of poor Jenny's life promise more 
 fairly for her comfort than the early or the middle 
 part of it. In talking over her troubles with me 
 this morning, though she very seldom says a word 
 about them, she declared that God had supported 
 her through them wonderfull}-. What her feeling 
 of her trials had been God alone could know ; but 
 in them all she had never lost sight of Him, and 
 that her prayer had been, in the worst of them, that 
 He would give her strength to bear her burthen ; 
 and so he had, or how could she have suffered so, 
 and yet been able to maintain herself and her 
 family ? And in the midst of all, there was one bless- 
 ing he had never kept from her, and that was a 
 mind contented with whatever he pleased to give 
 her, and to do any labour.
 
 184 TALES OF AFFLICTION. [lET. 
 
 How many talk of resignation, but how few prac- 
 tise it like this poor creature * ! 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir, and believe me ever, with 
 respectful esteem. 
 
 Most truly and faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray. 
 
 * The poor woman, whose remarkable afflictions have here been 
 noticed, died a few months since, after a lingerini,' and most iiainful 
 illness. She was resijjned to death, and strong in the hope of a 
 Christian. She was interred in Tavistock churchyard.
 
 XXXVIII.] 185 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents. — The writer states the claims of one near and dear to her, 
 to hold a place in the Biography of Tavistock — Proposes to give 
 not a regular life, but a sketch that may be amusing, and of some 
 interest, she hopes, concerning him — Born in Tavistock — His 
 father of the legal profession — His mother determines her son shall 
 be named after Sir Edward Atkyns — Some account of the Atkynses 
 father and sons — Celebrated men in their day — Buried in West- 
 minster Abbey — Christening of little Edward Atkyns — His god- 
 fathers — Eccentric characters — Anecdote of a presentation to Marie 
 Antoinette — A sketch of the Brigadier — Anecdotes of childhood- 
 Early talent for drawing — Edward's inclination for the church — 
 Ditficulty about his going to school — His mother will not let him go 
 to Eton — An anecdote respecting an old fashion in dressing the 
 head — The boy fond of a book— Shy and bashful — More anecdotes 
 about early days — The lad discovers a taste for poetry — Mr. Tasker, 
 the physiognomist, p)rophesies about him on observing his counte- 
 nance at their first meeting — Edward's godfather, Mr. Tremaine, 
 gives a friend a living to hold for his godson, till he might be old 
 enough to take it — His father's determination to make him a 
 lawyer prevents his benefiting by it — Edward is at last sent to 
 school to IMoreton Hampstead — Some account of the rector and 
 his curate — The curate's system of education — Lord Chesterfield 
 much studied at Moreton — The origin of the familiar expression of 
 Soce, used by the Moreton cooks — Baldwin Fulford — A descendant 
 of the ancient family of Fulford — A traditionary story of Richard I. 
 in the Holy Land — Story of a knight and lady — Little Edward 
 goes to Fulford — Melancholy circumstance relating to Sir John 
 Colly ton when a child — "William Uacres Adam, another school- 
 fellow — Oddities amongst the characters of Moreton — The doctor 
 a votary of Hoyle and Galen — Red Post Fynes and the pimch- 
 bowl tree — Little Edward's shyness not cured — His natural dispo- 
 sition renders him unfit for a lawver — Mr. Cake, his master, re-
 
 1S6 CONTENTS. [let. 
 
 moves to Alphinton — Hemarkable character of the master of the 
 rival school — His history — The late Lord GifFord one of his pupils 
 — Halloran's fate — Edward emancipated from school — Publishes a 
 volume of poems in his eighteenth j'ear — Commended by the critics 
 — Park, in his edition of ' Ritson's Selection of Songs,' gives the 
 only two in this volume — Edward forms a plan to write a history of 
 his native town — Collects notes for it — Begins his excursions — He 
 pursues also drawing and music — Composes saveral original me- 
 lodies — Studies the modern languages — Becomes well verstd in 
 Italian literature — Forms an intimacy with some of the French 
 officers, prisoners on parole — His admiijition of Gesner induces him 
 to attempt a series of English Idyls — The first part of tliese 
 published in 1800 — Edward becomes Captain-Lieutenant in the 
 corps of the Royal Devon Miners — The king signs his commission 
 — Edward has the honour to meet the Duke of Clarence, the 
 present king, at a party in London — The Royal Devon Miners 
 turned into an artillery corps — Edward their captain commanddut — 
 Anecdote of Doctor Hunt — In 1801 Edv/ard removes to Loudon; 
 enters as a student at the Middle Temple — At his leisure follows 
 his pursuits — Writes poetry in Italian — Studies the works of 
 Bacon — Becomes acquainted with Dr. Shaw and several eminent 
 persons — With Edwards the bookseller — with Matthias ; an inti- 
 macy follows — Meets Sheridan and many celebrated persons at the 
 house of Richardson the member — Has an interview with Walking 
 Stuart — The philosopher's person, opinions, &c. — Browne, the tra- 
 veller — Lady Hamilton — Anecdotes of Home Tooke — Friends in 
 London ; fashionable society — Edward's studies, pursuits, and 
 amusements — His Vers de Societt — Selections from them given — 
 Various pieces in verse — Sir Sydney Smith — Anecdotes of himself 
 whilst a prisoner in the Temple at Paris— Edward goes the circuit 
 for five years — Dislikes the law as a profession — His acquaintance 
 with Sir Cliarles Manners Sutton — Anecdotes of Edward related by 
 his bar friends —Three cases — His inclinations turned on the Church 
 — Attends the It-ctures of Dr. Porteus — Studies the old divines — 
 Becomes confiirmnd in his resolution to enter the Church — Meets 
 Mr. Mathias and communicates his plan — Circumstances attending 
 his ordination — Goes to Tavistock — The Duke of Bedford makes 
 him Vicar of that town — Keeps a journal of his excursions in the 
 neighbourhood — When Rural Dean, makes drawings of all the 
 chuiches — The writer's apology for becoming, even thus briefly, 
 the biographer of her husband — His clerical career, studies, and 
 pursuits — Translates from the Greek and Latin Fathers — List of his
 
 XXXVIII.] SKETCH OF MR. BRAY. 187 
 
 published works — Takes his degree as Bachelor of Divinity at 
 Trinity College, Cambridge — Acts as a magistrate at Tavistock — 
 His Hymns — A selection from them. 
 
 Vicarage, Tuvislock, September l'2t/i, 1S33. 
 
 My dear Sjr. 
 
 Having mentioned, from Orgar and Elfrida, 
 Drake and Browne, down to Maiy Colling, all those 
 personages who may be said to deserve a place in 
 the Biography of Ta\-istock, I have now but one 
 other to name ; and to him I am largely indebted 
 for the information he has afforded me in the pro- 
 gress of these letters. — Need I add that it is of my 
 hnsband I would s})eak ? His researches in this 
 neighbourhood ; his writings, both published and in 
 manuscript ; his various pursuits, and his labours, 
 for more than twenty years, for the pulpit of our 
 church, would alone entitle him to hold no mean 
 station in the Biography of Devon. But when to 
 these claims are added his discoveries, and his were 
 the first, on the western limits of Dartmoor, con- 
 nected, as they are, with the earliest periods of 
 British history, it would not only be doing injustice 
 to himself but to his native place, did I omit him. 
 I feel, nevertheless, that the mention of IVIr. Bray, 
 imder the head of Biography, is a delicate task for 
 me to execute, so as to speak the truth, and yet 
 avoid egotism ; since to write of one so nearly 
 and dearly connected, is very much like AATiting 
 about one's self. I shall not sit down, therefore, to 
 indite a regular life of him. I shall merely give 
 you some slight account of his original destination ; 
 his change of profession (and the motives which 
 induced it) from the bar to the church; his pur-
 
 188 SKETCH OF MR. BRAY. [lET. 
 
 suits, &c., in brief succession. And here and there 
 I shall add some few anecdotes respecting certain 
 characters with Avhom he was brought in contact, 
 which, as they amused me when I have heard them 
 related, may possibly afford some little entertain- 
 ment to you : if so, my end will be answered ; and 
 I am fully aware, from my own experience, that you 
 have too much good nature to frown at trifles when 
 they are harmless, or introduced with a wish to 
 please. 
 
 My husband was born in the Abbey-ho\ise, at 
 Tavistock. He was the only son (though not the 
 only child, for he has a sister younger than himself) 
 of the late Edward Bray, Esq., who, from an early 
 period of life till the time of his death, in 1816, (for 
 he was of the legal profession,) was employed in the 
 management of the property of his Grace the Duke 
 of Bedford in this part of England. Mr. Bray 
 married Mary, widow of Arthur Turner, Esq.,* 
 and daughter of Doctor Brandrcth, of Houghton 
 Regis, Bedfordshire, a physician of eminence in his 
 day ; and not unknown as having, for many years, 
 enjoyed an intimate acquaintance with Pope, Aken- 
 siclc, Garrick, and many other distinguished per- 
 sons of that age, who frecpiently assembled round 
 his table. Of these, and of her ancestry (of which 
 she was not a little proud, usually asserting that 
 they were related to many of the most antient and 
 noble families in England), Mrs. Bray used to tell 
 several amusing anecdotes with great vivacity. She 
 
 * Ills (laughter (by this first marriage) Dionysia, inherited the 
 whole of Mr. Turner's large fortune ; and married her cousin, Henry 
 Brandreth, Esq., of Ilotighton House, Bedfordshire, where she still 
 resides.
 
 XXXVllI.] THE ATKYNSES. 189 
 
 died at the age of ciglity-eiglit, about four years 
 
 ago. 
 
 It was Mrs. Bray who determined that her son 
 should be named after the family of Atkyns, a 
 branch of her own ancestry, who were remarkable 
 for having a father and his two sons all judges in 
 the times of the Charles's. All three were buried 
 in Westminster Abbey, where their monument still 
 exists ; and the portrait of one of them still hangs 
 in Guildhall; he, I believe, having obtained that 
 honourable distinction in consequence of his being 
 one of the commissioners for the allotment of the 
 ground to the several claimants after the fire of 
 London. 
 
 The portrait of Sir Eobert Atkyns (son of Sir 
 Edward) hangs in the library of our house, and 
 bears so strong a resemblance to my husband, that 
 if he were decorated with the same legal robes, wore 
 his hair in the same fashion, and was as young as 
 Sir Robert at the time he sat to the artist, it might 
 pass for his picture, and would be commended for 
 its fidelity both of feature and expression. This 
 portrait was, by the Brandreth family, usually con- 
 sidered a Vandyke. It is certainly a very beauti- 
 fully painted picture ; but truth obliges me to lessen 
 its value, by positively asserting that it is no Van- 
 dyke, but a production from the pencil of Dahl, who 
 lived in the reign of Charles II., and who, though 
 he left but few works, did enough to establish his 
 reputation as an artist of more than ordinary merit, 
 of which indeed this portrait alone is sufficient proof. 
 One of the Atkynses was the author of the cele- 
 brated ' County History of Gloucester,' and a man 
 of the most extensive learning and acquirements.
 
 190 BRIGADIER HERRING. [lET. 
 
 My husband, on once visiting Gloucester Cathedral, 
 happened to mention that he was a descendant of 
 the historian, and was treated with the greatest 
 respect on that account. 
 
 Little Edward Atkins received his name at a 
 christening accompanied ^^ith all the liberal hospi- 
 tality of those clays when christenings Avere great 
 events in the family history. Godfathers and god- 
 mothers were generally then chosen with a view to 
 some future benefit to the new-made Christian, and 
 Mrs. Bray determined not altogether to lose sight of 
 the usual hope for her son, at least in one quarter ; 
 so she fixed on Arthur Tremaine, Esquire, of Syden- 
 ham House, an old bachelor, who, in consequence of 
 his father being then alive, used, at the age of sixty, 
 to go by the name of yomuj Mr. Tremaine. On 
 what account the other godfather might be chosen, 
 if any particular motive existed for the choice, I do 
 not know, but he was a curious character, and was 
 invariably called Brigadier Herring. 
 
 The Brigadier was a very tall, stout man, who 
 had served in the wars, and possessed also the addi- 
 tional importance attached to having been a grea* 
 traveller, which in his day Avas more remarkable 
 than in our own. Mr. Bray perfectly well remem- 
 bers, though he was then a child, that whenever his 
 godftither dined at the Abbey House, he Avas fond 
 of appearing in the dress in Avhich he had been pre- 
 sented to Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, beino- 
 a blue coat Avith a red collar and cuffs. With this 
 dress the Brigadier invariably put on a change of 
 manners ; for he became courtly and ceremonious, 
 and delighted in repeating the circumstances of the 
 honours he had enjoyed in liis introduction to the
 
 XXXVm.] BRIGADIER HERRING. 191 
 
 Majesty of France. And with this story, though 
 fifty times told, the Brigadier as constantly regaled 
 his friends as they did him whenever he came to 
 dine with them. 
 
 The Brigadier's grandem-, however, was mostly 
 on the outside, for (whether from extravagance or 
 misfortune I do not know) his purse was not always 
 well filled; and, at the christening of little Edward 
 Atkvns, he did Mrs. Bray the honour of borrowing 
 five guineas of her, to present the nurse with her fee 
 and the baby with a spoon, but which he afterwards 
 never happened to recollect. Tired however at 
 lenoth with sing^le-blessedness and ill-fortune, the 
 Brigadier tried matrimony as a relief to both, and 
 married an old lady for her money, declaring that 
 had Marie Antoinette but had her head left on her 
 shoulders to attain the same age, she would have 
 been just such another looking person. But the 
 lady probably not being so confident in the power 
 of her own charms, in which nearly seventy years 
 had made some havoc, attempted to repair by dress 
 what she wanted in beauty, decorating herself in 
 flowers, frock, and sash, like a girl just escaped from 
 school; and tormented her husband with a jealousy 
 that allowed him no repose. 
 
 So much for the godfathers of little Edward 
 Atkvns. He was, I am assured, a very good boy, 
 onlv very much spoilt, and his mother's darling, con- 
 sequently he became somewhat unruly ; and when 
 such was the case nothing would so soon quiet him 
 as a pen or a pencil. His father often told him 
 that so great was his propensity to imitation when a 
 child, that he could write his own name very legibly 
 before he knew a single letter of the alphabet.
 
 192 THE YOUNG ARTIST. [lET. 
 
 Whilst yet a mere boy, he inadc a portrait of his 
 fatlicr, and of two other gentlemen. Though these 
 drawings, of course, possessed no knowledge of art, 
 yet so good were the likenesses, that it was agreed 
 to have them framed, I have also the portrait of 
 an old servant of the family by the same hand, and 
 about the same period, which is such a characteristic 
 drawing of an old man's head, that I hesitate not in 
 saying it would be worth engraving. 
 
 On Mr. Bray's taking the picture of himself to be 
 framed at Exeter (where, indeed, with those of the 
 other gentlemen, his son had just executed it, whilst 
 they were together at the inn), it so chanced that the 
 master of the shop possessed a considerable know- 
 ledge of the arts, and being requested to give his 
 opinion of the portrait, re])lied, that he could not say 
 much for the execution of the work, but that it was 
 an admirable likeness. '•' But what," said Mr. Bra}^ 
 '•' will vou think when I tell you that this bov is the ar- 
 list ?" The other said it was impossible so very young 
 a child could have produced it, " It is true, I do 
 assure you," replied ]\Ir. Bray, " the lad is my own 
 son."' It is perhaps a pity that this very strong na- 
 tural propensity was never regularly cultivated, since, 
 in after life, Edward never resorted to the pencil 
 excepting as a relaxation from other studies. The 
 principles of art he never acquired, yet his sketches, 
 nierelv by eve and feelin";, have been honoured vdih 
 the praises of a Stothard and a Landseer, who both 
 said nature had given Mr. Bray every quality requi- 
 site for an artist. 
 
 Little Edward's own inclinations, however, were 
 always for the church ; and one of his childish 
 amusements, when he visited at the house of some
 
 XXXVIII.] JUVENILE DAYS. 193 
 
 old ladies who were very fond of him, was to dress 
 himself up in the maid's best white apron by way of 
 surplice, and to bury two grotesque wooden figures 
 that stood over the mantel-piece, representing Adam 
 and Eve. I relate these childish anecdotes, because 
 I think so much may be traced of natural charac- 
 teristics in the very sports of children, whilst trifles 
 that, were they repeated, might excite the contempt 
 of the critic, may make a deeper impression than 
 he would be disposed to admit on the feelings and 
 fancy of youth. The great difficulty was about 
 Edward's education. His father wished to send 
 him to Eton, and to make a great man of him, 
 but poor Mrs. Bray never would consent to let 
 her darling loose from her apron string. Unluckily 
 she had heard that a boy had been drowned at 
 Eton, so nothing could prevail with her to let Edward 
 go thither for fear anything should happen to her 
 dear and only son, who represented in his name and 
 (she flattered herself) in his person the great Sir 
 Edward Atkyns, the pride of her OA\m ancestry. Too 
 much doating affection was her only fault towards 
 the boy ; and this very fondness sometimes tormented 
 him ; for wishing that he should have what was tlien 
 in fashion, (and has never been so since,) namely, a 
 pair of fine peaks, as they were called, one being on 
 either side the forehead, she caused the hair to be 
 regularly shaved off", as if she were desirous that he 
 might grow up like one of the portraits of Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, in the days of Elizabeth; and so great was 
 the dread entertained bv the child for these shavings, 
 that he would run and hide himself in a closet, and 
 scream most heartily when the operation was about 
 to begin. 
 
 VOL. 111. v
 
 194 JUVENILE DAYS. [lET. 
 
 So great was his love of a book, that he never was 
 so happy as when he conld get into a corner and sit 
 down and read, hour after hour, alone ; and being a 
 most basliful boy, even to shamefacedness,his mother's 
 praises of him before company were always such 
 a penalty that he was most glad to escape the 
 hearing. He possessed a good \'oice, but was so 
 shy that he could never be persuaded to sing un- 
 less he crept behind a curtain or under the table. 
 The next inclination which this bashful boy dis- 
 covered was for poetry; and, at a very early age, 
 writing verses became to him a source of almost 
 constant delisfht. Nor must I here omit the men- 
 tion of the follo^^^ng circumstance, which occurred 
 while h^ was yet a boy. Mr. Tasker, a celebrated 
 physiognomist, and, of his day, the greatest Greek 
 scholar in the West, who had studied the art of 
 reading the human countenance more from Theo- 
 phrastus and other classic authorities than from 
 Lavater, was a constant observer of every face he 
 chanced to look upon which afforded any promise 
 for his remarks. Tasker also was an adept in ana- 
 tomy ; his principal v.ork, indeed, was a dissertation 
 on the wounds and death of the heroes described in 
 the ' Iliad,' proving the scientific knowledge of the 
 poet. He likewise wrote an ode on the warlike 
 genius of Great Britain, which, though praised, was 
 also censured by Dr. Johnson, for making the Genius 
 of this country a woman. Mr. Bray, in company 
 with his son, one day chanced to meet the pliysiog- 
 noniist at Hathcrleigh. Mr. Tasker had never before 
 seen the boy, nor indeed knew of his existence ; but 
 the latter, after dinner, having retired to ramble about 
 the neighbouring fields, the former observed to Mr.
 
 XXXVIII.] JUVENILE BAYS. 195 
 
 Bray-;, " I understand that young gentleman is your 
 son. I do not think he has spoken one word during 
 the whole of dinner time ; but I will venture to say 
 he is a poet." 
 
 " A poet !" exclaimed Mr. Bray, '• I design him 
 for a lawyer : — what makes you say so ?" " I judge 
 fi-om his eyes," replied Mr. Tasker. Mr. Bray said 
 that certainly the boy had a great love of poetry, 
 and a habit, he believed, of writing verses, though 
 he always hid or destroyed his productions ; and 
 that his pursuits, in general, were of a studious and 
 sohtary character. 
 
 That the physiognomist was not mistaken in his 
 prediction, I shall endeavour to prove before I close 
 this letter, by inserting several original compositions 
 that have never yet seen the light, and which, I think, 
 you will deem not unworthy being drawn from their 
 present obscurity, and ^rill likewise show that Browne 
 is not the only poet to whom Tavistock has given 
 birth. To continue the narrative : — I should have 
 mentioned, when speaking of the godfathers of little 
 Edward, that Mr. Tremaine, designing to confer on 
 him a benefit, had, whilst yet a child, given to a 
 clero-vman who was related to him the living of Lew 
 Trenchard, in Devon, to hold till his godson should 
 be of sufficient age to take the duties of it upon 
 himself. Biit this kind act of Mr. Tremaine was 
 rendered useless by Mr. Bray's determination to 
 make the boy a lawyer ; so that his cousin held the 
 living till about a year ago, when he died. 
 
 The difficulty of how to get the boy educated re- 
 mained for some time in full force ; since Eton and 
 drowninir havins: become svnonimous in the mind 
 of his mother, nothing could prevail with her to let 
 
 k2
 
 196 REV. MR. CLACK. [lET. 
 
 him go thither; and a strange prejudice existed in 
 the family against any other public school. Indeed, 
 it seemed very doubtful if he had any chance left of 
 going to school at all, till his father so far mustered 
 courage as to seize the occasion, in the absence of 
 his wife for a few days, to smuggle little Edward 
 off to school ; and in order that his mother's heart 
 might be set at case, by having him near home, he 
 carried him no farther than to Moreton Hampstead ; 
 where he was set down, with a thousand cautions 
 and charges about his safety, under the care of the 
 Rev. Mr. Cake, curate of the parish, the Rev. Mr. 
 Claclc being rector of the same. 
 
 The history of the worthy rector was not a little 
 remarkable. One of the Lords Courtenay (the 
 father of the present Viscount I believe) fell in love 
 with a most beautiful and amiable girl, the daughter 
 of an inn-keeper at one of the universities where he 
 was a student. He married her ; and extending his 
 kindness towards her family, he brought her brotlier, 
 Mr. Clack, up to the church, and gave him the living 
 of Moreton. This gentleman was as well informed 
 as he was deserving, and possessed a good library. 
 His curate, Mr. Cake, though no great scholar, was 
 as perfect a gentleman as Lord Cliestcrfield himself 
 would desire to see, but without any of the objec- 
 tionable parts of that nobleman's system of polite- 
 ness. By him, little Edward Atkyns was taken as 
 much care of as if he had been made of china, and 
 in danger of being broken. He learnt no more 
 Latin and Greek than he pleased; but, as he loved 
 learning, he took very aptly and eagerly as much as 
 Mr. Cake had power to bestow, and a little more, 
 which, in process of time, he gained for himself.
 
 XXXVm.] REV. MR. CAKE. 197 
 
 There was a book in the school, a very great favour- 
 ite with the master, which the boys called the fat 
 book, in ridicule of its being so very thin in bulk. 
 This was an epitome of 'Lord Chesterfield's Let- 
 ters/ the study of v.hich (in the opinion of, and 
 according to the example set by Mr. Cake) was of 
 far more import than the classics. There is this to 
 be said, however, in favovir of Mr. Cake's system of 
 education, that once a week he made the boys trans- 
 late some of 'Pliny and Cicero's Letters' into their 
 mother tongue ; and afterwards caused them to com- 
 pare their own performance with Melmoth's excellent 
 translation. Thus, after all, Mr. Cake proved him- 
 self to be a lover of letters ; and I have often heard 
 Mr. Bray declare that by these means his attention 
 was very early directed to style in composition. The 
 master had also an English translation of every 
 classic, Avhich he kept in the sanctum sanctorum of 
 his own bed-room ; and thither would the boys enter 
 by stealth, to consult what they called the Blah Books. 
 There was one thing in particular in which this 
 gentleman displayed some antiquarian as well as 
 classical knowledge — it was in a conjecture ; and less 
 happy ones have obtained for many a man the honour 
 of being deemed worthy to become an F.S.A. The 
 cooks of Moreton had a custom, which Molly at 
 the school failed not to observe, of daily announc- 
 ing to the boys the dinner hour, by saying — " Din- 
 ner's ready, Soce.'" Now Mr. Cake considered this 
 to be a remnant of a Romanized British custom on 
 the borders of Dartmoor; and that when tlic first 
 invaders got a footing at Moreton Ilampstead, they 
 were in the habit of calling the native barbarians to 
 feed at their general meal, by the familiar address 
 of " jSocii," or companions.
 
 198 BALDWIN FULFORD. [lET. 
 
 Amongst Edward's school-friends was Baldwin 
 Fulford, a brancli of one of the most ancient families 
 in Devon, whose ancestors were distinguished in 
 history from the times of the crusades down to those 
 of the Stuarts. Baldwin Fulford, the first of that 
 name, was so great a favourite with Coeur de Lion, 
 that in the freedom of their friendship he ventured 
 to say something which gave offence to the king. 
 The courtiers, jealous of his influence, were in hopes 
 it would be his ruin, and failed not to make the 
 most of the offence. But Bichard, either displeased 
 at their malice, or too fond of his favourite to be 
 long angry with him, merely said " Muzzle the 
 bear." From that period a muzzle was added to 
 the bear's head which was his crest. Another of 
 this gallant race, or perhaps Baldwin himself, de- 
 livered a Christian lady, in the true chivalrous 
 spirit of the day, from a Saracen who held her 
 captive Avithin the walls of his castle in Palestine ; 
 and, according to tradition, brought her home 
 to England, where first he gave her liberty, and 
 then offered her his hand, which she accepted, and 
 lived with him the mistress of his feudal halls in 
 Devon. And in commemoration of this victory two 
 Saracens were granted as supporters to the arms 
 of the family, which they still retain. 
 
 During the holidays, Edward was highly grati- 
 fied by going home with his school-fellow to Great 
 Fulford House ; a noble mansion, very celebrated 
 during the civil wars, and where Charles II. was at 
 one time concealed.* 
 
 * When speaking of the Fulford family, I cannot resist mention- 
 ing (thougli it has certainly nothing to do with the subject of this 
 sketch) a rcniaikable circumstance which happened to Miss La 
 Roche, the sister of Mrs. Fulford : it will scarcely gain credit as being
 
 XXXVIII.] DR. VIAL. 199 
 
 Another of Edward's school companions was Sir 
 John Collyton, whose father, whilst yet he was a 
 babe in the cradle, took so strange a dislike to the 
 poor boy, that he would not see him, and cut him off 
 with a shilling, leaving all his property to his 
 sister. William Dacre Adams, afterwards secretary 
 to Mr. Pitt, was another of his school friends, to- 
 gether wdth his brother, now General Sir George 
 Adams ; and with these, and his other young com- 
 panions, he was very happy : a circumstance which 
 so mortified his mother, that when she tried to coax 
 him home again from school, she left him in tears 
 at her disappointment. 
 
 There were two or three very remarkable charac- 
 ters in the town of Moreton, who occasionally 
 shoAved Edward some kind attention, and they 
 deserve a mention amongst the oddities of their 
 day. Fielding would have found in each a siibject 
 that might have furnished hints for character in his 
 'Tom Jones.' One of these was a physician, a 
 Doctor Vial ; whenever had a doctor a more happy 
 name? He was a desperate lover of Avhist; Hoyle 
 and Galen divided his nights and davs : which was 
 most studied, I presume not to say. But nobody 
 amongst the ladies, old or young, was half so popu- 
 lar as the doctor. His morning visits soothed ner- 
 vous affections, and his evening hand at cards was 
 generally irresistible. Could Doctor Vial have 
 played twenty rubbers a night, he might have found 
 
 true, j'et it is so. Miss La Roche went with a party to see the Peak 
 at Derbyshire. Being tired, she got up behind a clergyman who was 
 riding. The horse fell wheri near the very summit of tb.e peak. 
 The clergyman and the animal were both killeil ; but Miss La Roche 
 was providentially saved by her long hair getting entangled in one of 
 the bushes.
 
 200 RED-POST FYNES. [lET. 
 
 partners for them all among the somewhat anti- 
 quated virgins of Moreton Hampstead. They even 
 lost their money to him as willingly as they would 
 their hearts. One evening, in the midst of a deal, 
 horrible to relate^ he fell off his chair in a fit ! 
 Consternation seized on all the company. Was 
 he alive or dead ? they inquired Avith the frantic 
 energy of a Lady Randolph, when asking the fate 
 of her son. What was to be done ? All help was 
 given ; hartshorn was poured almost pure down his 
 throat by one kind female friend, whilst another 
 feelingly singed the end of his nose Avith burnt 
 feathers : all were in the breathless agony of sus- 
 pense for his safety. At length he showed signs 
 of life, and retaining the last fond idea which had 
 possessed him at the moment he fell into the fit, 
 to the joy of the whole company, exclaimed " What 
 is trumps ?" 
 
 The other prominent character in the society of 
 Moreton was a certain old Mr. Fynes, who, I be- 
 lieve, was a justice of the peace. Red-post Fynes 
 was his name ; for being the holder of a good deal 
 of land, and considering himself a man of taste as 
 "well as of propcrt}', he loved to be distinguished for 
 both ; so he painted all the gates of his fields a 
 bright vermilion. Red-post Fynes had a favourite 
 relative whom he used to call his nevvy. His nevvy 
 he brought up to the church, and he afterwards 
 rose to the dignity of a dean. The old gentleman 
 was remarkable for never liaving been able to learn 
 to spell even the commonest words in his own lan- 
 guage; so that on the birth of his daughter he 
 wrote word to a friend, that he had the pleasure to 
 inform him that his wife was brought to bed of a 
 fine gull. The word usage this very ingenious gen-
 
 XXXVIII.] THE PUNCH-BOWL TREE. 201 
 
 tlcmaii spelt without one letter belonging to it, and 
 yet contrived to produce something like the word, 
 at least in sound, for he wrote it thus — yowzitch. 
 The dean finding that his uncle's orthography be- 
 came a subject of perpetual jokes all the country 
 round, grew rather ashamed of it, and so made the 
 old gentleman a present of an Entick. But it was of 
 little use ; for he could never hit on the two first let- 
 ters of any word to turn it out in the dictionary. 
 There was one spot in Moreton which Mr. Fynes 
 considered elevated him, Avhilst he filled it, to a post 
 as important as any occupied by any magistrate 
 throughout the whole county ; and that was his 
 seat as president in the Punch-bowl tree : for it 
 so happened there was in Moreton near his house 
 a very old and very grotesque tree, cut and clipped 
 into the form of a punch-bowl; whilst a table and 
 seats were literally aflfixed within the green enclo- 
 sure, to which they ascended by a little ladder, like 
 the companion-ladder of a ship. 
 
 Here the worthies of the place, of the Squire 
 Western school, would resort, and considered it a 
 point of honour to drink till they could scarcely see 
 each other across the table ; and there would they 
 often tarry till they ' roused the night owl in a catch ;' 
 wliilst nothing could be more ludicrous than the 
 picture presented by this nest of Bacchanals in the 
 midst of the smooth-shaven verdure, receiving all 
 the dust from the high-road beneath them, Avhich 
 mingled with the clouds of their own tobacco. The 
 Punch-bowl tree still, I believe, exists at Moreton, 
 though the oddities of the place, who at one period 
 gave it notoriety, have for years been in their 
 
 graves. 
 
 k3
 
 202 YOUTHFUL SHYNESS. [lET. 
 
 The shyness of little Edward was not conquered 
 at IVIoreton ; a public school perhaps might have 
 done something towards a cure. So great was his 
 bashfulness, that he could never find courage to ask 
 any young lady to dance with him, till all the other 
 boys had picked out the prettiest girls; and then 
 some homely and neglected damsel, who had been 
 left sitting alone, fell to his lot, as the last partner, 
 perhaps, to be found in the room. This natural 
 shyness argued very unfavoiu-ably for the profession 
 which his father in his heart had destined for him, 
 more especially as he was a boy who loved poetry and 
 romance, had no aptitude for business, cared no- 
 thing for money, scarcely knew that two and two 
 made four in his arithmetic, was so timid in com- 
 pany that he kept silence for fear of hearing his own 
 voice, had a decided love of plain dealing, and 
 thought the wrong side of a question should never 
 be made to appear the right. Edward's father 
 destined him for a law3^er : there never was a more 
 mistaken choice. 
 
 At length Mr. Cake removed fi-om Moreton to 
 Alphington, near Exeter. In this village there was 
 an opposition school, the success of which, consider- 
 ing the notorious adventures of the master, is not to 
 be acco\mted for, unless it arose from his teaching the 
 boys at a cheaper rate than the more aristocratic and 
 respectable establishment of Mr. Cake. The name 
 of the master was Halloran. I conclude by this that 
 he must have derived his origin from the land of 
 Erin. It is the more likely, as he was of a very warm 
 and passionate temper, — one of those who act first 
 and think afterwards ; and this he once did in a way 
 that caused him to be indicted for murder in a cri-
 
 XXXVIII.] RIVAL SCHOOLS, 203 
 
 minal court. The deed took place whilst he was in 
 the navy, before he set up the profession of training 
 boys in the way they should go ; a tiling in which, it 
 is to be hoped, his first maxim was " Do as I say, 
 and not as I did." For he had stabbed a man in a 
 passion on board of ship ; and if his legal ad^aser 
 had not stopped his mouth on the trial, by pre- 
 venting his declaring he was drunk when he gave 
 the blow, he would have criminated himself; and it 
 is not unlikely that his own declaration, with this 
 additional offence, would have turned the balance of 
 justice, so as to make him kick the air if not the 
 beam. Mr. Cake's boys used to look down with 
 sovereign contempt on Mr. Halloran's bo3's ; and 
 jibes and jests about Jack Ketch, &c., were never 
 wanting in the small fire of schoolboy wit, when there 
 was any skirmishing between them. Halloran's 
 lads, in fact, were generally the sons of J)etty trades- 
 men in Exeter, or of persons who got for their chil- 
 dren a cramming of Latin and Greek as cheap as 
 they could. Amongst them, however, there was one 
 youth of uncommon talent ; and who, in consequence 
 of that talent, united to his own industry and the kind- 
 ness of friends, gradually rose to high distinction in 
 the profession of the law, and would, had he lived, in 
 all probability have become Lord Chancellor. This 
 youth was no less a person than the late Lord Gif- 
 ford, who commenced his legal career as clerk to an 
 attorney in Exeter. Many years after, he and Mr. 
 Bray (during the time the latter was at the bar) 
 went the same circuit, became friends, and often 
 talked over their schoolboy days together. Ilal- 
 lorans finale must not be forgotten : though he 
 had escaped hanging and drowning too, he was
 
 204 HIS PURSUITS. [let. 
 
 nevertheless fated to pass through trovibled waters ; 
 for, in consequence of forging a frank in the name of 
 Mr. Garrow, he Avas transported to Botany Bay. 
 
 Emancipated from school, Edward speedily veri- 
 fied the prediction of the physiognomist, for he gave 
 himself up heart and soul to poetry ; and in his 
 eighteenth year a neat little volume appeared of 
 these juvenile productions, which were principally 
 circulated amongst friends, yet not wanting the fa- 
 vourable notice of some of the critics of the day. 
 And Park, in his edition of ' Ritson's Collection of 
 Select English Songs,' gave, with warm commen- 
 dation, the only two songs that appeared in that 
 early volume *. 
 
 But it was not poetry alone that engaged his at- 
 tention ; for even at this early period he formed the 
 scheme of writing a history of his native town, made 
 his notes for it, and commenced those excursions 
 which led the way to his subsequent investigations 
 and discoveries on Dartmoor. His pencil was not 
 idle ; and he relieved the hours of more severe ap- 
 plication by the study of music. He had a fine ear, 
 and in this pursuit took so much delight, that in a 
 few years he composed an immense number of origi- 
 nal melodies, a few of which have been very beauti- 
 fully arranged (the words being likewise Mr. Bray's) 
 by a lady accomplished in that science. To these 
 studies he added also those of the modern languages. 
 I am induced more particularly to mention this, 
 because the familiar acquaintance he formed with the 
 Italian and its literature gained for him, a few years 
 
 * These songs I have introduced (at page 183 and page 227), 
 together with his ballad of ' Midsummer Eve,' in the first volume of 
 Fitz, of Fitz-ford ; a legend of Devon.
 
 XXXVIII.] HIS PURSUITS. 205 
 
 after, that intimate friendship with the celebrated 
 Mr. IMathias, whicli proved one of the happiest cir- 
 cumstances of his life. He had a gi'cat aptitude for 
 learning languages, and spolce the French like his 
 native tongue ; for Tavistock being at that period 
 the chief depot for French prisoners on parole, he 
 formed an acquaintance with several French officers 
 of great intelligence, particularly with a Monsieur 
 Cayeux, who was taken prisoner during the early 
 part of the war. German literature also attracted 
 his attention ; and his high estimation of Gesner 
 induced him to attempt a series of English Idyls. 
 The first part of these was published in 1800 ; and 
 though like the former volume it was circulated prin- 
 cipally amongst friends, and little advertised, yet 
 was it most favourably noticed by some of the lead- 
 ing periodicals ; more especially, I believe, by the 
 ' British Critic' 
 
 I must not omit to mention, that before Mr. Bra3"'s 
 going to London, the late Duke of Bedford came 
 down to Tavistock for the purpose of raising a vo- 
 lunteer corps among his tenantry. That no appear- 
 ance of favouritism might take place, the names of 
 some of the most respectable of the sons of the neigh- 
 bovu'ing gentry (among them was Mr. Bray) Avere 
 to be drawn for, to decide whether they were to serve 
 as officers or privates. Mr. Bray's lot was to serve 
 in the latter capacity. He, however, was never called 
 upon to do so ; as the Duke, on his return, gave, I 
 believe, offence to the ministry by a speech in the 
 House of Peers ; and his offer to raise the corps was 
 not accepted. But some time after, however, on a 
 corps of miners being established as volunteers, under 
 the name of the Royal Devon Miners, to be com-
 
 206 HIS MILITARY RANK. [lET. 
 
 manded by the Vice Warden, Warwick Heele Ton- 
 kin, Esq., Mr. Bray's father and Mr. Tonkin's son 
 were appointed captains, and Edward was fixed on as 
 captain-lieutenant. The ordinary commissions were 
 signed by the Lord Warden, according to an act 
 then recently passed ; but as the grade of captain- 
 lieutenant was not specified in such act, Mr. Bray's 
 commission required the sign manual ; and King 
 George III., therefore, honoured him with the title 
 of " His weU-beloved Edward Atkyns Bray, Esq.," 
 in a regular army commission, excepting such al- 
 teration as the name of the corps required. Mr. 
 Bray still preserves this commission as a relic, as 
 well of regard as of veneration for that most ho- 
 noured sovereign *. 
 
 It was deemed by government that the services 
 of the miners, as they were well acquainted with the 
 management of machinery, would be more efiicient 
 as artillerymen ; and into an artillery corps they 
 were therefore turned. Mr. Bray became their cap- 
 
 * I cannot here omit the mention of a circumstance which brought 
 Mr. Braj' in contact ^vith royalty. Some time after his arrival in 
 London, he had the honour to meet the present king, theu Duke of 
 Clarence, at a party. As he had never before been in company with 
 any of the royal family, a lady belonging to the house had scarcely 
 given him the hint that he would find it was the custom for the whole 
 of the company to rise on the entrance of the Duke, when His Royal 
 Highness walked into the room. He soon after beckoned to her, 
 when she joined him ; and, to Mr. Bray's surprise, she speedily 
 returned, and asked if he could guess wherefore His Royal Highness 
 had beckoned to her. Of course Mr. Bray replied that he could not 
 conjecture. She said it was for the purpose of asking who he was ; at 
 the same time intimating a hope that Mr. Bray bore His Majesty's 
 commission. Certainly Mr. Bray was tall enough for a grenadier 
 officer, being six feet in height, and very upright ; but I believe he 
 did not tell the story in what way he already bore a commission.
 
 XXXVIII.] BECOMES A LAWYER. 207 
 
 tain commandant till they were incorporated mth 
 the stannary artillery of Cornwall. In that capa- 
 city he was twice in barracks at Devonport, then 
 Dock, pre\dovis to his being called to the bar, of 
 which I shall soon have occasion to speak. And 
 here I cannot omit an amusing anecdote respecting 
 his various professions. At a visitation, soon after 
 he had taken holy orders, the Rev. Dr. Hunt, a 
 well-known clergyman in Devon, thus addressed 
 him : — " Mr. Bray, I have had the pleasure of seeing 
 you but three times in my life : the first was in your 
 regimentals, at a dinner given by General England 
 to the mihtary; the second was in your vdg and 
 gown, as a lawj^er, in the court at Exeter ; and now 
 I see you in go\m and bands as Vicar of Ta^'istock." 
 In the year 1801 Mr. Bray removed to Lon- 
 don, and was entered as a student at the Middle 
 Temple : five years after he was called to the bar. 
 During his residence in the Temple, though he de- 
 voted a considerable portion of his time to the study 
 of the laWj he did not fail to cultivate, and assidu- 
 ously, his more favourite pursuits, and applied liim- 
 self closely to Italian poetry. In tliis language he 
 once ventured to write a sonnet, and addressed it to 
 his friend Mr. INIathias. He hkewise sedulously 
 studied the works of Lord Bacon, and wrote copious 
 marginal notes on the greater part of the WTitings 
 of that eminent philosopher. These notes Dr. Shaw, 
 of the British Museum, expressed a wish that Mr. 
 Bray would pubhsh, appended to a new edition of 
 that author. I mention tliis as a proof of the good 
 opinion that great naturalist entertained of my hus- 
 band. The notes on Bacon, however, remain still in 
 manuscript in this house. He had a great respect
 
 208 ACQUAINTANCE WITH [lET. 
 
 for the Doctor, whose real worth was best appreciated 
 by an intimate acquaintance, since his manners Avere 
 somewhat fantastic, as he was fond, perhaps, by way 
 of dclassement, of conversing on ordinary subjects 
 too much in the style of the fashionables of the day. 
 So fond was the doctor of trifles, that he was never 
 better pleased than when requested to repeat " Little 
 Eed Riding-IIood." And indeed it had been one of 
 his amusements to decorate the walls of his favourite 
 room at the British Museum, by sticking it all over 
 with butterflies which he had cut out for that purpose 
 from the work of a brother naturalist. Such were 
 the trifles with which a man whose fame will be most 
 enduring amused his leisure hours ! His own bro- 
 ther, also a doctor (of divinity), used to call him 
 Doctor Cockeshell. 
 
 In London Mr. Bray became acquainted with 
 Mr. Edwards, the celebrated bookseller, whose li- 
 brary, besides being decorated by the finest Etruscan 
 vases, was a treasure house for the most rare and 
 valuable works ; among others, the Princeps edition 
 of Herodotus. It was by Mr. Edwards that he was 
 introduced to Mr. Mathias ; when their mutual love 
 of Italian literature led the Avay to that bond of 
 friendship Avhich so long subsisted between them, 
 and was only interrupted by the departure of the 
 former for Italy. In London, also, Mr. Bray became 
 known to Sheridan, at the house of Mr. Richardson, 
 M. P., with whose family he was on the most inti- 
 mate terms. Richardson was the author of the 
 'Heiress;' and, with some others, wrote the 'Rol- 
 liad.' Tlie acquaintance of this last-named gen- 
 tleman with Sheridan was a most unhappy circum- 
 stance for his family, as it induced him to embark
 
 XXXV! II.] EMINEKT PERSONS. 209 
 
 too much of his property m the losing speculation of 
 Drury Lane Theatre ; and helped on those embar- 
 rassments which left them at his death in such re- 
 duced circumstances, that a widow and four very 
 amiable daughters had but very inadequate means 
 of support *. At the time Mr. Bray knew Sheridan, 
 he had so habituated himself to the pleasures of the 
 bottle, that he had lost much of that vivacity which 
 at one period brought into play his wit and talents, 
 and rendered his society so bewitching. Sheridan, 
 in fact, had sunk into a toper ; and there was very 
 little left of what he had been but an occasional 
 burst of vivacious expression ; when his eye, always 
 remarkable, would become lighted up with a lustre 
 that was almost more than natural. But he would 
 soon sink again into an ordinary person ; and to 
 take two glasses to every others one seemed with 
 him the chief object of attention : so completely 
 mav the bris-htest talents be lost or obscured by 
 the degrading love of drink. 
 
 At Richardson's, likewise, Mr. Bray used to meet 
 that most amiable and excellent man, Mr. Shield 
 the composer, of whose character and manners he 
 always speaks in terms of the highest esteem. He 
 frequently heard this delightful musician with his 
 violin accompany Eichardson's daughters, whilst 
 they would sing to their piano some of the com- 
 poser's songs. Shield was a man of the finest feel- 
 ings, and so alive to harmony, that his tears were 
 
 * Only two of these (laughters are now living. Miss Fanny 
 Richardson, a woman of the most refined manners and accomplished 
 mind, resides, on account of the smallness of her income, ia Ger- 
 many—a sad exile. She is the authoress of some elegant poetry, 
 and a little novel of much merit, called 'Truth and Fashion.'
 
 210 WALKING STUART. [lET. 
 
 frequently the accompaniment of his most favourite 
 melodies. 
 
 In Devonport ]Mr. Bray had become acquainted 
 \nth Dr. Wolcott, better known as Peter Pindar ; and 
 in London with Barry the painter, with Dr, Coombe, 
 Browne the celebrated traveller, Flaxman the sculp- 
 tor, John Kemble, the good-natured and amiable 
 John Taylor, editor of the Sun, with Sir Joseph 
 Banks, Sir Francis Bourgeois, Lady Hamilton, and 
 man}" other eminent or celebrated persons of the 
 day. Concerning these, I have a few anecdotes 
 which may not be altogether devoid of interest in 
 the repetition. Mr. Bray was also shghtly acquainted 
 with Walking Stuart. On looking over some of the 
 notes he made durino; his residence in the Middle 
 Temple, I found a paper ^mtten after his having 
 received a visit from the philosopher, paid to liim in 
 his chambers. I shall here copy it verbatim, as it 
 is not a little curious. 
 
 " Memorandums after an interview and conversation 
 7cith Walking Stuart. 
 
 "This philosopher, like his predecessor of anti- 
 quity who instituted the Peripatetic school, has 
 acquired his name from his perambulations on foot. 
 The difference between them is, however, that the 
 former has visited almost every country in the world 
 in search of knowledge, and the latter investigated 
 and taught it within the narrow limits of the grove 
 of Academus. Stuart has not only taken greater 
 pains in the pursuit of intellectual wealth, but, 
 besides rivalling the Athenian in his oral communi- 
 cations, has diffused it in his writings. To institute 
 a comparison between them would lead me too far, 
 and require greater talents than I possess. I will
 
 XXXVIII.] WALKING STUART. 211 
 
 content myself, therefore, with stating a few re- 
 marks I made during the short tiine I was in his 
 company, and will first introduce him by a descrip- 
 tion of his person. 
 
 " Had 1 not, from his name, supposed liim to be 
 a Scotsman, his person alone would have suggested 
 it. From liis language, which is generally an infal- 
 lible criterion, 1 should not have been able to form 
 any conjecture ; nor indeed do I mean to decide 
 what countryman he is. Were I even to ask him, 
 the answer I should receive would probably be — ' I 
 am a native of the world ;' for in reply to a question, 
 * Whether he had any children T he said, ' Yes, the 
 good and \irtuous are all my cliildren.' Apparently 
 between fifty and sixty years of age, he is rather 
 tall and lusty. His face, with high cheek bones 
 and Roman nose, is dark by nature or by his travels 
 in hot countries. His forehead bears the WTinkles 
 of reflection more than age. By his dress we may 
 imagine Philosophy is not more liberal to her sons 
 at present than she was of old. He wore a black 
 coat, over which was thrown a syjencer with half the 
 arms cut off. Whether it were from economy or 
 taste, 1 thought it had by no means an unpleasing 
 effect. I understand that for some time after he 
 returned from Asia he wore a Persian dress. His 
 hair was powdered. I mention this as, in these days, 
 the hair has expressed a great deal of meaning *. 
 
 " The Avord philanthropy is of too limited a signi- 
 fication to express the system upon which he acts : 
 it is not benevolence to man alone, but to every 
 animated being. He assumes, therefore, the name 
 
 * This was written soon after the days of the French Revolution.
 
 212 PHILOSOPHY OF STUART. [lET. 
 
 of an Homoousiast, from opLoovrLo?, ejusdem essentise, 
 consubstantialis ; compounded of o/xor and ovaix, si- 
 milis essentia. 
 
 " From a short conversation, or rather being pre- 
 sent at a conversation which he held with another 
 gentleman, I cannot be presumed to have formed a 
 precise and correct idea of his opinions ; but I am 
 told that he professes himself an atheist. It has 
 been denied that any human being could really dis- 
 believe the existence of a Deity. AVhoever has 
 professed it has been held to do so from vanity and 
 a wish for notoriety. But of this I am convinced, 
 that, whatever are the opinions which Stuart pro- 
 fesses, he sincerely believes them from a conviction 
 in his own mind of their supposed truth. The con- 
 versation he held in my hearing was mostly of a 
 moral nature, with only a few references to the 
 subject of religion. However, as a proof that his 
 opinions are peculiar on this head, I need only 
 mention that, in quoting some passages from Pope's 
 Essay on Man, he said the following couplet he 
 would have written thus : 
 
 ' All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 [Whose body matter is, and power the soul ;' 
 
 instead of — 
 
 * 'Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.' 
 
 " Of the philosophy of Epictetus he said the sum 
 was no more than this : 
 
 ' What can't be cured 
 Must be endured.' 
 
 " Bolingbroke he considered one of the greatest 
 geniuses that ever lived, though he had his pre- 
 judices.
 
 XXXVIII. J PHILOSOPHY OF STUART. 213 
 
 " The mind, Stuart said, was constantly employed 
 in action of thought, or object of thought. The first 
 is Avhere the mind thinks on things of its own crea- 
 tion, or embodies abstract ideas and gives action 
 to non-existences, such as angels, devils, &c. The 
 second is when it is busied in real things, and such 
 as are objects of the senses. Men had considered 
 mind as a sack, and stuffed it with all kinds of learn- 
 ing; but it should be considered as an instrument, 
 and should be so managed as to bring all its own 
 powers into action. If it be filled, let it be filled 
 with its own ideas. 
 
 " A man of science is not always a man of saga- 
 city : generally, indeed, otherwise. We have made 
 great advances in science, but little in sagacity. 
 
 " Of Sir Isaac Newton, Stuart said that, though 
 he disclaimed hypothesis, and professed to rest his 
 philosophy on facts, he is yet guilty of an hypothesis 
 by calling the influence which bodies have to adhere 
 or to repulse gravitation, i. e. making the effects the 
 cause. 
 
 " Of Home Tookc, he said that he was no sound 
 reasoner, and was too much tied down to the log-ic 
 of the schools, with his 'grant this, and his 'ergo* 
 He was also too fond of sarcasm, or a piece of mere 
 wit. Tooke, in reply to the bishops who thought his 
 doctrines might prejudice Christianity, said that was 
 no concern of his, let them see to that. Adams, 
 President of America, he considered had given the 
 most correct account of popular governments; he 
 in a manner prognosticated the dreadful effects of 
 the French Revolution, by pointing out the dangers 
 of investing a democratical government with too
 
 214 PHILOSOPHY OF STUART. [lET. 
 
 much power. This he proved from history, and the 
 French have given another example. 
 
 " Stuart said that ethics would not admit of ma- 
 thematical truths, but analogical, viz. : sometimes 
 it is virtue to kill a man. Some, he observed, called 
 doubt the gate of knowledge ; but he called it the 
 very temple itself. 
 
 " His travels on foot, he told us, were principally 
 designed to investigate moral truth, the progress of 
 mind, and human happiness. Cliina is the only 
 country he has not visited. He formerly used a 
 vegetable, but now an animal diet. He wants 
 strength of a morning unless he eats his constant 
 supper, fat ham. He never drinks wine, but malt 
 liquors ; smokes sometimes of an evening, and now 
 and then goes to a royal theatre for relaxation. 
 He likes the Serpentine River in Hyde Park for 
 the air and vieiv. He is rather deaf; speaks de- 
 liberately, yet in the most appropriately eloquent 
 style. In a late pviblication lie has attacked the 
 critical reviewers. His philosophy is to teach man 
 how best to promote his happiness ; and his study 
 is the discipline of the mind. His gi'eat conclusion 
 is, that virtue is happiness. 
 
 " He goes every Sunday evening to Mr. Taylor's." 
 
 Of Bro\vne, the traveller, I have not heard Mr. 
 Bray relate many anecdotes, as he was so very 
 silent and sedate a personage that he seldom en- 
 tered into conversation of any length, and did not 
 talk much about Jiis travels. Of the surpassing 
 beauty, the talents and Advacity of Lady Hamilton 
 I have heard much from Mr. Bray's account of her.
 
 XXXVIII.] LADY HAMILTON. 215 
 
 Her person, when he knew her, was the largest of the 
 large ; but her face was still exquisitely beautiful both 
 in feature and expression, with large eyes that seemed 
 to speak her every thought and feeling. She had a 
 peculiar grace in her vivacity, and sang delightfully. 
 He once heard her sin on, in an inimitable stvle, 
 an ItaUan comic song, in Avhich she performed both 
 parts or characters engaged in the scene. The song 
 represented a maestro di capella teaching a young 
 nun to sing. Mr. Bray was infoi-med by liis friend, 
 the late Admiral Bedford, who was intimately 
 acquainted both with her and Nelson, that the 
 hero's attachment to her commenced in a most ro- 
 mantic friendship ; nor would the old Admiral admit 
 that Nelson had ever gone beyond what was strictly 
 right in his devotion to this Circe. If this be true, 
 it Avas a pity that any friendship for another should 
 have caused Nelson to part from an unoffending 
 wife, whose only fault was. that of being her rival's 
 inferior in talents and attractions. 
 
 In London Mr. Bray met Home Tooke at a din- 
 ner party, Avhere some dispute arose about the 
 volunteer system. Tooke, who was siuTounded by 
 his admirers and friends (amongst whom was Sir 
 Francis Burdett), reprobated the system just named 
 in a very violent manner, which might have arisen, 
 as Mr. Bray afterwards learned, in consequence 
 of his own proffered serAaces having been refused. 
 This attack was levelled against the gentleman of 
 the house, who, feeling himself hard pressed, turned 
 round to my husband and said, that it was scarcely 
 right that he, who was only a private, should bear 
 the brunt of such an unmeasured attack when a 
 captain was present.
 
 216 HORNE TOOKE. [leT. 
 
 Mr. Bray happened to be seated next Home 
 Tooke, who absolutely tnrned round in his chair, and 
 immediately opened his tire upon him. Previous to 
 this dinner, Mr. Bray had felt an extreme degree 
 of curiosity to meet Home Tooke, and entertained 
 the highest opinion of the talents and acuteness he 
 had shown in his first edition of the ' Diversions of 
 Purley.' But Tooke's conversation after dinner had 
 been of so improper and even gross a nature, that, 
 coupled with his political violence, it had effectually 
 removed all the previous sense of respect which Mr. 
 Bray entertained for him ; and enabled him, not- 
 withstanding his natural diffidence and his youth, 
 to be cool and collected in his reply to arguments 
 so absurd, that only one need be specified : for 
 Tooke gravely asserted that give him but time, and 
 he would collect together maid-servants who, with 
 their mops and broom-sticks, would turn all the 
 volunteers to the right-about. 
 
 Mr. Bray asked him if courage were not the cha- 
 racteristic of Englishmen ; and begged to know if 
 Englishmen ceased to be such by becoming volun- 
 teers? This turned the tide in his favour; though 
 the decided admirers of Home Tooke were not a little 
 surprised to find that a young man, and a modest 
 one too, would venture to contradict their oracle. 
 And indeed Sir Francis Burdctt took an opportu- 
 nity afterwards of saying to Mr. Bray, "I knew not 
 what you had said to my friend, as I did not hear 
 the whole of the conversation ; but you have done 
 what no other person, to my knowledge, has ever 
 done before — you have put Home Tooke in a pas- 
 sion." 
 
 Amongst Mr. Bray's literary friends he had the
 
 XXXVITI.] SOCIETY IN LONDON. 217 
 
 pleasure to number ]Mr. ]\Icrrivale, the Barrister, 
 Avlio is well known for his continuation of Beattie's 
 ' jMinstreL' and his translations from the Greek An- 
 tholoory. and was, I believe, in Gilford's time, an 
 occasional contributor to the ' Quarterly Eeview.' 
 Miss Ta3"lor, now IMrs. Austin, Doctor Coombe, his 
 son Taylor Coombe, of the British Museum, and 
 many others, were also his friends ; and he occasion- 
 ally met Mrs. Opie, Repton, Dr. Parr, and Jerning- 
 ham in the society of London ; whilst at the houses 
 of Mv. Peter Moore, Lady ]SIetcalf, Lady :Macdo- 
 nald, and others, Mr. Bray mingled with the 
 fashionable world of the da}-, and was present at 
 most of their parties. But the gaieties of the last- 
 named circles did not draw him off from an attention 
 to his professional pursuits; for^, as far as the study 
 of the law on general principles was connected with 
 the history of his country, he took great delight in 
 it : the technical detail was his ayersion. B\it even 
 this he endeayoured to conquer as far as it might 
 be necessary ; whilst the miise of English and 
 Italian poetry became his solace in the intervals of 
 his more serious occupations. Many of Mr. Bray's 
 poetical pieces were written under the inspiration of 
 strong feelings, produced by the circumstances of the 
 moment. Thus his 'Lines on the Battle of Maida' 
 were composed whilst the Park and Tower guns were 
 proclaiming the victory. The ' Ode on the Death 
 of Nelson,' which was published and very favourably 
 received, was written whilst he was waiting to re- 
 ceive a party of friends at his chambers in the 
 Temple, who came thither to witness the procession 
 of boats from Greenwich Hospital up the Thames, 
 VOL. Ill, L
 
 218 VERS DE SOCIETE. [leT. 
 
 bearing the body of the hero previous to its inter- 
 ment in St. Paul's. 
 
 By those friends who were intimately acquainted 
 with Mr. Bray during his residence in town, I have 
 been informed, that though in general company, 
 from his silent and retiring manners, he did not 
 always appear to enjoy it so much as a young man 
 might be expected to do, yet he had always a high 
 relish for that in which either superior intelligence 
 or worth might be found. 
 
 He was never remarked, hoAvever, for deficiency in 
 \ivacity when tete-a-tete with a companion or friend 3 
 but if a third person joined in the chat, he inva- 
 riably gave place to him, and generally relapsed 
 into his usual taciturnity. Yet, like the silent gen- 
 tleman in the ' Spectator,' he was an attentive ob- 
 server of all that passed ; and frequently made any 
 little occurrence the subject of an almost spontaneous 
 poem, or copy of verses ; for which we have no de- 
 finite name, but which our neighbours the French 
 have happily denommated Vers de Societe. Of 
 these he has a very large collection ; I doubt if any 
 poet of the present time has ever produced so many. 
 Of their merit I must not speak ; and as I shall here 
 give only some few as examples, I leave you, who 
 are so far more capable of forming a right judgment 
 than myself, to declare if these Vera de Sucicte 
 wovdd not alone entitle my husband to an honourable 
 place amongst the poets of Devon. You will also 
 sec by them that Mr. Bray was most susceptible in 
 feeling the charm of female society. He may per- 
 haps be accused of ha\ing been too universally so ; 
 but the ladies have no cause to complain ; since the
 
 xxxviii.] MR. brad's poems. 219 
 
 least beauty of person, mind, or character in them 
 never escaped his notice, and generally inspired him 
 to celebrate either in the most enthusiastic or im- 
 passioned verse. It is due, however, to the gravity 
 of his clerical character to state, that, with few ex- 
 ceptions, all these poems were \\Titten when a very 
 young man, and whilst at the bar. I shall here 
 introduce a few of them, and then conclude tliis 
 sketch of their author. 
 
 TO A LADY. 
 Oti expressing her opinion that men could obtain the object of their love 
 more easily than women. 
 Think not that men alone, my fair, 
 
 Have power their passion to declare ; 
 
 Or that your sex, whate'er they feel, 
 
 Must with a modest pride conceal. 
 If Love so partially is kind, 
 
 I'll doubt not if the God he blind. 
 
 But this, by Heaven ! can ne'er be true : 
 
 For if he's partial, 'tis to you. 
 
 "Woman, with livelier feelings warm'd. 
 In nature's loveliest mould is formed ; 
 Each trait that animates her face 
 Possesses such attractive grace. 
 That whoso looks, that self-same hour 
 Must own Love's all-subduing power. 
 
 Since youths there are whom trembling fear 
 Forbids the voice of Hope to hear, 
 (And who but Hope, 'mid powers above. 
 Can guide the hall-fledged wings of Love ?) 
 If such a youth be e'er so blest 
 Unconsciously to fire her breast — 
 Is not a look, a look alone. 
 Enough to make her passion known ? 
 Nay — if she check the rising sigh, 
 And quench the lightning of her eye. 
 The dawn of passion still will break, 
 And kindle blushes in her cheek. 
 
 What if a veil those blushes hide ? 
 Has nature other aids denied P 
 
 l2
 
 220 POEMS. [let. 
 
 No — sympathy, with mystic spell, 
 Can still th' inipassiontMl secret tell ; 
 Whilst every car, l)y nia^ic bound, 
 Heeds not, save one, th' enchanting sound. 
 
 Mark, too, my fair, night's lovely queen 
 Exerts her wondrous powers unseen; 
 And, through the heavens as slow she glides, 
 Directs old Ocoan's ample tides, 
 That sink or swell at her command, 
 To guard and bless our native land. 
 
 So, Beauty ! on its sea-girt shores, 
 Such powers, such secret powers are yours. 
 Your peerless charms with fond control, 
 Direct each passion of the soul ; 
 The dullest heart with transport fill, 
 And wake it with Love's rapturous thrill. 
 
 Temple, 1805. 
 
 AN APOLOGY TO A LADY, 
 
 IV ho had heen infurmed by cmotker, to whom it was communicated in 
 confidence, that the author had characterized her as one who possessed 
 good natural sense, but could not boast of a cultivated nnderslanding. 
 
 The paintt'r, who-^e enthusiast breast 
 With nature's beauties is impress'd. 
 Seeks not the garden's narrow round 
 Where art with studied step is found, 
 W'ho leads you to the trim alcove, 
 The marbled spring, and vista'd grove. 
 
 Ah ! no — He loves the rude-form'd bower. 
 The shepherd's shelter from the shower, 
 The weeping rill and wild cascade 
 That pours its fury through the glade ; 
 And through the forest's sylvan reign. 
 Views the blue hills or spreading main. 
 
 So, to his mistress's rapturous praise, 
 The poet, when he tunes his lays. 
 Sings not the wisdom of her tongu(;. 
 But how with feeling grace she sung; 
 Not that she conn'd the pedant's rules, 
 Or own'd the logic of the schools. 
 But how lier artless lips impart 
 Th' untutor'd dictates of her heart. 
 
 180G.
 
 XXXVIII.] POEMS. 221 
 
 APOLOGY TO MY SISTER, 
 
 IVho had informed anoiher that 1 had not ventured to take my I'dtle 
 niece in my arms, then about four months old. 
 
 ■When gemm'd by morn's refreshing dew, 
 The rose-bud opes its charms to view, 
 What hand profane in evil hour 
 Would dare to pluck the infant flower? 
 For sure it owns a sweeter bloom, 
 Breathes to the gale more rich perfume, 
 And blushes with a deeper red, 
 When ripening in its native bed. 
 
 When with a brother's joy I see 
 Thy lovely babe, so loved by thee, 
 Blushing wiih all her mothers charms, 
 I fear to take ber to my arms ; 
 For, in her smile her joy express'd. 
 She's lovelier on her mother's breast. 
 
 180G. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 niio differed in ojiinio)i with the author, hij -preftrrincj the violet 
 to the rose. 
 
 Yes! more than every flower that blows, 
 Sweet maid ! "tis true, I love the rose: 
 For when its blushing charms 1 see, 
 I sigh, and fondly think of thee. 
 
 Thy cheek displays as soft a bloom. 
 Thy lips exhale as rich perfume ; 
 And when it waves with graceful ease, 
 FannM by the pinions of the breeze, 
 Methinks I see thee, see thee move. 
 Attended by the train of love. 
 
 But ihou — the flower that shrinks from view, — • 
 Thou lov'st the violet's pallid hue. 
 If e'er this pale, this lowly flower, 
 Crush'd to the ground by some rude shower, 
 Sweet maid ! thy pitying eye should see, 
 Oh ! give one sigh, one thought to rae ! 
 
 1806.
 
 222 POEMS. [let. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 On having accompanied her to Penshurst, 
 
 Doubtless, sweet maid ! in Penshurst groves, 
 AVhere gallant S3(lney sang his loves, 
 And taught Arcadia's nymphs and swains 
 To weave the dance on British plains; 
 Where Waller on the page of fame 
 Inscribed his Sacharissa's name ; 
 Ah, yes ! — in these sweet scenes to rove, 
 Must wake the youthful breast to love; 
 And teach it, in poetic strains, 
 To breathe a lover's joys and pains. 
 
 But, to what spot soe'er. by Heaven, 
 To roam with thee, the bliss is given ; 
 Whether at morn in sunny glades ; 
 At noon in solitary shades; 
 Or mid gay Pleasure's noisy train, 
 Molesting midnight's silent reign ; 
 My breast thy converse would inspire, 
 And till it with a poet's fire. 
 
 1806. 
 
 TO THE SAME, 
 On having chosen for an inscription " TJAmitidest r Amour sans aiks.' 
 
 You say, sweet maid ! some poet truly sings 
 Friendship is Love — but Love without his wings. 
 Since 'tis my hapless lot, with sorrowing heart. 
 From thee, ere long, my lovely friend ! to part ; 
 Too soon, I fear, that sorrowing heart will prove 
 Friendship has wings as swift as those of Love. 
 
 Yet Love and Friendship are, 'tis true, the same, 
 Or, if they differ, differ but in name. 
 Friendship is Love, when Reason's hand unties 
 The silken bands that blind his laughing eyes; 
 Friendship is Love, without his torch, whose fire 
 Is kindled at the shrine of fond desire ; 
 Friendship is Love, when blunted is his dart, 
 That only strikes, but never wounds the heart. 
 
 1806.
 
 XXXVIIl.] POEMS. 223 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 Playing on the Harp, 
 
 Fair as the fairest of the choir 
 That hymn before th' Almighty Sire, 
 And draw the rolling orbs above 
 To listen to their harps of love ; 
 "VYhen, light as Zephyr's sportive wings, 
 Thy flying fingers sweep the strings, 
 The chords, that twine my heart arouiiil, 
 All vibrate to the rapturous sound. 
 
 Oh ! could they, at this happy hour. 
 Speak what they feel, with equal power; 
 These artless Hues, that fail to move, 
 Alas ! thy pity or thy love. 
 Were worthy to be sung b}- thee. 
 And married to thy minstrelsy. 
 
 1806. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 On the opening of a rose-bud. \ 
 
 I wonder not the budding rose 
 
 Whilst on your breast, to perfect bloom 
 Its infant petals should disclose, 
 
 And shed, fair maid ! more rich perfume. 
 
 For there it found a warmer bed, ' 
 Sunivd by the radiance of your eyes ; 
 
 Stole from your lips a deeper red. 
 
 And drank more fragrance from your sighs. 
 
 But when you mark with pitying eye 
 No more its drooping head it rears ; 
 
 Ah I better far that it should die, 
 
 Than e'er be water'd with your tears. 
 1S09. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 ffko requested the author to burn her Letter's. 
 
 The rose, thy short-lived gift, my fair I 
 Long mid my secret tablets press' d. 
 
 Though wither'd, still I guard with care — 
 And why ? — It once adorn'd thy breast.
 
 224 POEMS. • [let. 
 
 Then think not to the flames I'll give 
 (Though to deny thee be a sin) 
 
 Thy dearer written leaves, where live 
 The feelings of the heart within. 
 1S09. 
 
 TO MRS. S. . 
 
 Blest in a husband's mutual love, 
 You bid me a like blessing prove ; 
 And kindly promise to commend 
 To some fair maid your grateful friend : 
 Eut first you bid me to declare 
 What charms I wish my bride to share. 
 
 Know then, her stature, high or low, 
 Should grace in ever\' motion show. 
 Her forehead, be it fair or brown, 
 Ne'er but at vice should wear a frown. 
 Her eyes, or black, or blue, or grey, 
 Should pour the intellectual ray. 
 Her cheek, or pale, or rosy red, 
 With modest blushes should be spread. 
 Willi smiling lips she must impart 
 Nought but the dictates of her heart. 
 She must not, light or dark her hair, 
 Refuse a lock for me to wear. 
 In fine — if like yoitrse/f &\\q prove, 
 She'll crown the fondest wish of love. 
 
 THE KISS*. 
 
 When, tempted by the luscious prize, 
 ' The boy with trembling finger tries 
 To rob the hive ,• with buzzing wing 
 The bee inflicts the burning sting : 
 But (such the will of Fate unkind) 
 He leaves it, with his life, behind. 
 
 * I have selected this little poem from many written by Mr. Bray 
 whilst very young (when he relieved his legal studies by poetical 
 composition), on account of its being an example of that style of 
 impassioned song for which the ancient poetess Sappho was so 
 celebrated. I know but of one instance more at all like it ; that is 
 found in the deeply-impassioned verses (firsf pointed out to me l>y Mr. 
 Southiy) of " Day, in melting purple dyisig," in Zophiel, by the 
 matchless Maria del Occidente.
 
 XXXVIII.] POEMS. 225 
 
 So, when enraptured with thy charms, 
 Dear maid ! I caught thee in my arms. 
 And rifled from thy ruby lips 
 More sweets than e"er the insect sips 
 From flow'rets of the brightest hue, 
 Methought my latest breath I drew : 
 My bosom thrilled with pleasing pain ; 
 My boiling blood swell'd every vein; 
 I panted, trembled, shiver'd, sigh'd. 
 And, fainting with the bliss, had died; 
 But thou, by pity moved, or love — 
 (Oh ! grant that it the last may prove !) 
 Breathed in a kiss such vital breath 
 As woke me from the trance of death. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 On a Rose dropping from her bosom, 
 
 "Whilst 'twas my happy lot last eve. 
 With you, my fair ! the dance to weave. 
 The silver rose, with punish"d pride, 
 (For vainly with your breast it vied,) 
 Fill from that breast, its envied seat, 
 A prostrate suppliant at my feet. 
 Pitying, I raised it from the ground. 
 But felt indignant when I found 
 That all its charms to art were due ; 
 From whom its very breath it drew. 
 
 Oh ! then, forgive, if I forbear 
 Again, sweet maid ! to place it there — 
 There, where no empire art should gain, 
 Nor aught but native candour reign. 
 
 TO T. I. MATHIAS, Esq. 
 
 To share thy converse in this blest retreat. 
 The Arts' loved temple, and the Muses' seat ; 
 To view the Tuscan pencil's magic powers. 
 That shows f.iir Venus in her secret bowers,* 
 Or cl.iiming from the Phrygian boy the prize,* 
 "Whilst envy flashes from her rival's eyes; 
 
 Alluding to two pictures by Italian masters in his possession, 
 
 l3
 
 226 POEMS. [let. 
 
 I e'en could fancy that I trod the ground 
 
 For arms, for arts, for poesy renown'd ; 
 
 And that the Thames, as roll its waves along* 
 
 Thy flow'ry banks, was Arno, famed in song ; 
 
 Were not Augusta's boast a nobler tide 
 
 Than all the streams that through Italia glide. 
 
 So, when with wond'ring rapture I peruse 
 Thy verse, a homage to the Tuscan muse, 
 I ne'er could deem it but the tuneful lays 
 Of him, sweet bard ! who sang his Laura's praise. 
 Did not thy strains a nobler rage command, 
 Fired by thy native tongue, free as thy native land. 
 
 IMPROMPTU TO Mrs. OPIE, 
 On her saying she had never, tUl that evening, heard the aulhor''s name. 
 
 Ah ! vain delusion — as a poet 
 
 To think I shared some little fame, 
 Yet find not e'en the tnuses know it, 
 
 For Opie never heard my name. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 On her presenting the author with a couple of pnrses; one of which she 
 said might serve for a card-purse. 
 Since ne'er at cards, or luck, or skill, 
 With others' wealth my purse shall fill ; 
 And o/ie might, to an envious spirit, 
 Seem more than what I need or merit ; 
 Know, lovely maid ! that either purse 
 May prove a blesning, not a curse, 
 (For justly is the wretch accused. 
 By whom Heaven's gifts are wrongly used,) 
 One I'll to Industry consign; 
 For only what I gain is mine ; 
 The other Charity shall hold ; 
 To bless the poor, the sick, the old. 
 And thus I'll think the donor fair 
 Scorns not my honest toils to share, 
 And joins me in such deeds of love 
 As claim the aid of Heaven above. 
 
 * His house, in Scotland-yard, Westminster, had a most delight- 
 ful view of the Thames.
 
 XXXVUI.] POEMS. 227 
 
 SONG, 
 Composed whilst riding over Dartmoor, \st Oct, 1810, 
 
 England, shielded by her laws, 
 True to freedom's righteous cause, 
 Now the sword, vindictive draws 
 
 For others. 
 
 On every shore that ocean laves, 
 To Britons, rulers of the waves, 
 They who scorn to rank as slaves 
 
 Are brothers. 
 
 Fired by valour's quenchless flame, 
 England, conscious that her name 
 Bright shall ever shine with fame 
 
 lu story ; 
 
 Calls the trembling nations round, 
 Roused from apathy profound, 
 To share, through all the world renown'd. 
 
 Her glory. 
 
 England ! blest with liberty, 
 Nations, like thyself, to free — 
 This has been, and e'er shall be, 
 
 Thy charter. 
 
 Dangers ne'er thy breast appal ; 
 Should the foe the world enthral, 
 Thou the very last wilt fall — 
 
 A martyr. 
 
 But no ! — His pride shall soon abate — 
 The tyrant's bloody thread, though late, 
 Th' impending shears of angry Fate 
 
 Shall sever. 
 
 Yes ! — nor think my words are vain. 
 When joined by this prophetic stram — 
 England's freedom shall remain 
 
 For ever ! 
 
 LINES 
 On the Jubilee, 1809, 
 Whilst mid the night that shadows half the world, 
 From uutrack'd orbits meteor stars are hurl'd ;
 
 228 POEMS. [let. 
 
 O'er hapless Gallia, haughty mid her woes, 
 Whilst the fell comet, red with fury glows ; 
 Thy planet, George ! with calm but steady force, 
 Rolls through seiener skies its lengthened course : 
 And, by her guardian Genius fiimly led. 
 Shall long o'er Albion happiest influence shed. 
 
 Time, in his endless circle, where, for signs. 
 Each solar zodiac, ranged as annals shines. 
 Bends back, and points to seven sabbatic spheres, 
 That mark the gradual lapse of grateful years 
 Since a loved monarch graced a splendid throne. 
 And ruled a people justly call'd his own. 
 
 Joy, too, descends from Heaven on seraph wing, 
 And bids whole nations wake the choral string ; 
 In grateful concert to resoimd his praise, 
 As full of virtues, as he's full of days. 
 Long may he reign ! kind Heaven's peculiar care ; 
 A boon conceded to his country's prayer; 
 Till, deathless still to honour and renown. 
 He quit an earthly for a heavenly crown. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 Who insisted that the author should give her his reasons for not playing 
 
 at cards. 
 
 First, then, I fear (I own 'tis true) 
 
 When for iny Sociate's heart I sue. 
 
 Like Omphale* of old renown. 
 
 She'll raise her cM, and knock me down. 
 
 Nor e'er iny anger can I smother 
 
 To see, perhaps, some worthless other 
 
 That heart I hold above all price 
 
 \Mn with a diamond in a trice. 
 
 Rather than this, I'd yield my breath, 
 
 And supplicate the spade of death, 
 
 * Tlie Lydian queen dressed in lier lover's lion's skin, and armed 
 with his club, is said to have kept Hercules in due subjection to a 
 government, now well known, but wliich then perhaps had not re- 
 ceived a name.
 
 XXXVIII.] POEMS. 229 
 
 Me from such torturing pangs to save 
 As gamesters know, to dig my grave — • 
 Where kings and queens (for all must die) 
 And knaves and fools together lie. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 Who procured some u-ine for the author at a crowded supper, hij re- 
 quest ing it for herself. 
 As with a holder wing, the bird of Jove 
 Bears the re^l lightning through the realms above, 
 "When seated with the rich nectareous tide, 
 By Hebe, from the golden vase supplied. 
 
 So, when from thee, than Hebe's self more fair, 
 'Tis mine the cup, thy lips have kiss'd, to share, 
 Warm'd by the draught, my muse should wing her flight, 
 And strive to win Parnassus" loftiest height. 
 And thence, sweet maid! in never dying laj-s, 
 Recount thy beauties, and resound thy praise: 
 But no '.—she dares not hope, with feeble wing. 
 To brush the spray from famed Castalia's spring. 
 
 Since vain the contest with the bird of Jove, 
 Oh ! may she rival Cytherea's dove ; 
 Content to soar, though still with conscious dread, 
 In giddy circles o'er thy rose-crown"d head; 
 In hopes thy pitying lips will bid her rest 
 With trembling pinions on thy downy breast. 
 
 Temple, 1806. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 Whom, on her telling the author that she had heard of the poetical 
 effusions he had presented to the Hon. Anna '•' * *, fie assured that 
 theij ivere prineipatlij written to remove an impression she hud formed, 
 from his silence and reserve, that he was little better than a fool. Her 
 ^'^pl'Ji '^^'' ^'* looks alone should have satisfied her of the jnistake, (jave 
 rise to the present Impromptu. 
 
 Whene'er I join the social train, 
 A young and inexperienced swain. 
 My silence and embarrass'd air 
 They think my ignorance declare.
 
 230 POEMS. [let. 
 
 But thou, who seest with partial eyes, 
 Bidd'st me their envious taunts despise ; 
 For, if ray lips were ne'er to move, 
 My looks their malice would disprove. 
 
 But though, my fair ! thy tongue makes known 
 The dictates of thy heart alone, 
 My breast, with gratitude inspired. 
 Shall ne'er with vanity be fired. 
 No — if each feature of my face 
 Seem'd fraught with animated grace, 
 And silently bespoke my mind 
 By nature and by art refined ; 
 "Twas that my e}'es reflected thine. 
 That bright as love's fair planet shine ; 
 'Twas that, by sympathy possess'd, 
 On mine thy features were impress"d ; 
 And if like thee I look'd and moved, 
 Oh ! tell me — cuuld I be but loved? 
 
 1805. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 On altering for the author a pair of legal into clerical hamls. 
 
 The breast-plate that on Aaron shone 
 Begemm'd with many a mystic stone, 
 Could by its varying rays declare 
 If God had heard the suppliant's prayer. 
 
 Now, when the law's high pomp is o'er. 
 And all her splendours are no more ; 
 The Gospel's humbler heart's expressed, 
 By lowly bands and simple vest. 
 
 Since then, sweet maid ! thy skilful hands 
 Have clipp'd the Imvyer^s ampler bands, 
 To suit the deacon's humbler guise ; 
 Oh ! may they prove to wondering eyes 
 I've quenched ambition's meteor fire. 
 Nor glow with fame or wealth's desire,
 
 xxxviii.] roEMs. 231 
 
 And, spurning all the pride of art, 
 May soft persuasion from the heart 
 Inspire my tongue, by praise or blame. 
 To rouse devotion's purer flame ! 
 1811. 
 
 TO A LADY. 
 
 Sir Sydney Smith, who, together with the author, was on a visit 
 with a friend at Hampton, in order to give us an idea of the oriental 
 costume, bound a shawl round the head of the young lady to whom 
 these lines are addressed, in the form of a turban ; and, saying that 
 it only remained for him to apply a little rouge to her cheek, saluted 
 her. 
 
 Elush not, sweet maid ! around thy head 
 When Albion's boast and Gallia's dread, — 
 Whose looks alone from Acre's wall 
 Could e'eu her proudest chief appal, — 
 With conquering hand the fillet winds. 
 Around tliy brow the turban binds. 
 And steals his fair reward — a kiss : 
 For who would rob him of the bliss ? 
 
 No — greet him with thy country's vows, 
 Weave laurel for the victor's brows, 
 And if he smile upon thy charms. 
 Blush not to clasp him in thine arms. 
 For who so justly claims to prove 
 The ardour of his country's love ? 
 And who that ardour can declare 
 So well, so warmly, as the fair ?* 
 
 * To the above little poem is attached the following note : — 
 " I hope," says Mr. Bray, '' I may be pardoned for mentioning 
 the following circumstance, as it is intimately connected with the 
 preceding verses : — Sir Sydney Smith, who was on the point of taking 
 leave of the company, requested to have a copy of what he was 
 pleased to call his charter ; and the lad}', on my promising to give 
 her another, presented him with the original. On fulfilling my pro- 
 mise, she put it in her bosom ; and afterwards we made a morning's 
 excursion, in my friend's barouche, to Richmond. On our return, how- 
 ever, she lamented that she had lost it, and petitioned for another 
 Copy. I soon supplied her loss ; and, on speculating as to what might 
 become of the Sibyl's leaf, I felt some consolation in reflecting, that
 
 232 POEMS. [let. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Ah ! credit not the rival swain, 
 > Who whispers in thy jealous ear. 
 That other maids my vows obtain, 
 And calls m\f passion insincere. 
 
 I own, dear maid ! I love to seek 
 The plain where sport the viri^in choir ; 
 
 And oft the form, the blushing cheek, 
 The charms of many a fair, admire. 
 
 But, thoufi;h each love-inspiring dame 
 
 Mine eye with earnest gaze surveys, 
 Ah ! cease, my love ! thy swain to blame, 
 
 Because he gives each beauty praise. 
 
 By blending every virgin's grace, 
 
 A something like thyself I see ; 
 For all the cliarms of every face 
 
 Are surely, Rosa ! seen in thee. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Though, Delia, on the flow'ry mead. 
 With thee the sportive dance I lead. 
 View not the virgins with disdain 
 Who for a partner sigh in vain. 
 
 Though oft with truth thou liear'st me swear 
 Tliine eyes are bright, thy face is fair ; 
 Oh ! think not Love has thrown his dart, 
 And pierced for thee my thrilling heart. 
 
 though the person who might find it would easily discover that it 
 alluded to Sir Sydney, he would be unable to divine to whom it was 
 addressed. Immediately on leaving Hampton, I set off with a friend 
 on a tour through South AVales ; and was not a little surprised when 
 he to'.d me that a few days before he had dined with a party at Rich- 
 mond ; and on t'r.e health of Sir Sydney, with th.it of other public 
 characters, being drunk at table, a gentleman who was present said 
 that his son, a little boy, whilst at play, had latt ly found a copy of 
 verses respecting him, which he produced. My friend said he was 
 convinced he knew the author; and, taking one of my letters relative 
 to our intended journey from his pocket, asked him if he did not re- 
 cognise the writing."
 
 XXXVIII.] SIR SYDNEY SMITH, 233 
 
 For I from fair to fair resort. 
 And pay to each my amorous court, 
 In hopes at last a maid to find, 
 The best, the fairest of her kind. 
 
 Thus from the hive the insect flies, 
 And soars o'er flowers of thousand dyes : 
 But. wlien the s-.veetest strikes his view. 
 He shuts its wings, and sips its dew. 
 
 Sir Sydney Smith uas a frequent visiter at the 
 villa of jSIr. Bray's friend at Hampton, on the banks 
 of the Thames. During these visits Sir Sydney 
 told many anecdotes of his being confined in the 
 Temple at Paris. 
 
 Whilst a prisoner there, he carried on some secret 
 communication with his friends, who were desirous 
 of assisting his escape. Sometimes by blowing a 
 particular air on the flute, they were given to under- 
 stand that they were to worlc, or not to work, in a 
 subterranean passage which they were forming for 
 his liberation, as their labours demanded the utmost 
 circumspection, lest they should be overheard by 
 their enemies. Sir Sydney, when permitted to be in 
 the court-yard of the prison for exercise, occasionally- 
 amused himself with a game of balls, somewhat 
 similar to that of fives. His aim was to keep up as 
 manv as he could ; and when tlie eve of the sentinel 
 Avas elsewhere engaged, to glance one of the balls, 
 in which was concealed a paper of instructions, over 
 the wall to his friends. The governor, wlio was his 
 keeper, had so firm a confidence in his honour that, 
 when he was obliged to leave the Temyjle, lie would 
 most earnestly beseech Sir Sydney to be on his 
 parole ; and if he consented would, during his ab- 
 sence, give him full liberty to range within tlie walls 
 of his prison. But if, through caprice or design. Sir
 
 234 LEGAL FRIENDS. [lET. 
 
 Sydney did not agree to pass his word, (and he not 
 unfrequently refused it,) the governor seemed greatly 
 disconcerted, and, he had reason to believe, now and 
 then remained on purpose to watch, instead of fol- 
 lowing his intention of quitting guard for awhile. 
 
 Though for five 3-ears ]SIr. Bray went the western 
 cu'cuit, and bore a ver^* fair reputation in his voca- 
 tion, yet he never liked the law as a profession ; 
 and never could overcome his timidity as a barrister. 
 This was put to a singular trial in the very first 
 witness he had to examine in the Court at Exeter ; 
 for she proved to be one of his father's old servants ; 
 and he had a ver}'^ painful duty to perform in liis 
 professional capacity, in preventing her from crimi- 
 nating her husband. 
 
 During the circuits he formed many pleasant 
 acquaintances ; and one of his legal companions and 
 friends in these circuits, and who was once also a guest 
 at his father's in Ta\'istoclv, was the late Speaker 
 of the House of Commons, the Honourable Sir 
 Charles Manners Sutton*. For the pubhc principles 
 and integrity of tliis gentleman, Mr. Bray always 
 entertained the utmost respect and esteem ; and the 
 days he passed with him in their professional career 
 he numbers now as amongst the most agreeable re- 
 collections of his youth. 
 
 I have been told by my husband's old legal friends, 
 that among them he obtained the name of the Cas- 
 tilian, on account of the high feelings of honour he 
 invariably observed in his profession. From mistrust 
 in his own powers, he may be said to have avoided 
 a l)rief as much as others sought one. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is but justice due to him to say 
 
 * Now Lord Canterbury.
 
 XXXVIII.] LEGAL OPINIONS. 235 
 
 that in three cases of more than ordinar}^ import, 
 thouo;h each differing in its nature from the other, he 
 gave the fullest satisfaction ; these cases related, first, 
 to an opinion on a will, in which the right to some 
 very considerable property was involved ; secondly, 
 to a consultation ; and thirdly, to an award. The 
 consultation was held at Mr. Garrow's chambers, 
 where my husband, as a young man, listened >rith 
 great attention, but did not venture to offer any 
 remarks ; but, on his return with one of the bar- 
 risters, who was his most intimate friend, he said that 
 he could not reconcile himself to the conclusion they 
 had come to, as it was at variance with a case wliich 
 he then mentioned ; and pointed out what he thought 
 would be the right course. His friend naturally 
 enough asked him why he did not mention it at the 
 time : and said he should instantly, on reaching his 
 chambers, write to Mr. Garrow on the subject, and 
 tell him to whom he was indebted for the opinion, 
 which would probably alter the whole aspect of the 
 case : as indeed it did. 
 
 My husband's opinion on the doubtful point of 
 the vnW was confirmed by the highest authority ; and 
 the av^-ard, very unusual in such cases, gave satis- 
 faction to both parties. 
 
 But however mvich respected he might be as a 
 barrister, vet such was liis aversion to the courts of 
 law, that I have heard him say he never put on a 
 wiff and gown to attend Westminster Hall without 
 a painful disturbance of the nerves. And that ex- 
 treme degree of timidity, which he covild never over- 
 come, frequently made him remain silent, or ren- 
 dered his ex|)ressions confused, when he knew his 
 own views to be right respecting the subject in dis-
 
 236 QUITS THE BAR. [leT. 
 
 cussion. Yet, when his feelings were strongly in- 
 terested or excited, he was fully the master of him- 
 self; and in such moments, 1 have been assured by 
 those who have heard him in court, he both com- 
 manded and fixed attention in a very remarkable 
 degree. 
 
 His own inclinations, however, were always turned 
 on the Church; and even whilst in the Temple he 
 studied sedulously those old divines in whose works 
 he so much delighted. In town he also attended 
 the lectures of Dr. Porteus, Bishop of London ; and 
 gave the licads of every lecture, in a scries of letters, 
 to a friend in the countrj- ; who, not long since, 
 assured me he had for many years carefully preserved 
 them, till he lent them to some clergyman in Corn- 
 wall, who took so great an interest in their perusal 
 as never to return them. 
 
 Mr. Bray was not altogether unskilled in points 
 of controversy even at this ])criod ; for Dr. Disncv, 
 the Unitarian minister (who had orginally held pre- 
 ferment in the Church), gave him the Unitarian and 
 improved (as it is called) version of the New Testa- 
 ment, with a view to induce him to embrace his own 
 sentiments ; but so far was this from producing the 
 effect, it confirmed him in his former opinions ; and 
 not content with refuting manv of its principles in 
 notes on the margin, he resolved more sedulously to 
 study the scriptures tlicmselves than lie had ever done 
 before ; and by the blessing of God, he considers this 
 was no small means of brino-ino; him to the decision of 
 entering the Church as a profession. The circum- 
 stance of his ordination was not a little remarkable : 
 I shall here, therefore, relate it. 
 
 His fondness for Italian literature, as was before
 
 XXXVIII.] ORDINATION. 237 
 
 noticed, procured for him the acquaintance and 
 friendship of Mr. Mathias. When he resolved to 
 quit the bar for the Church, previous to executing 
 his intention of g'oing to one of the universities, he 
 secUided himself from the society of his friends, in 
 order to apply closely to the more direct study of 
 theology. 
 
 It was necessary, however, for his health, that he 
 should occasionally take exercise ; and in one of his 
 walks he accidentally met Mr. iMatliias, who inquired 
 what he had latclv done with himself Mr. Bray 
 explained the object and motive of his seclusion. 
 
 On hearing this, Mr. jVIathias was pleased to say, 
 that it was a pity a man of his abilities and acquire- 
 ments should lose so miicli time in the mere form of 
 keeping terms at a university ; that he thought he 
 could be of service to him : for though he had never 
 asked a favour for himself in his life, yet he consi- 
 dered his friend so peculiarly circumstanced, that he 
 Avould do it for him in this instance. He was, he 
 added, well acquainted wth two or tlu'ee of the 
 Bishops ; he would mention Mr. Bray's case ; and if 
 one would not ordain him perhaps another might ; 
 as he knew, whatever might be the learning, or the 
 general capabilities of the individual, that some had 
 tied rq) their hands not to ordain any one who had 
 not previijusJy taken a degree. 
 
 Mr. ]Mathias, like a true friend, as he was, ful- 
 filled his word ; and Mr. Bri.y soon received a letter 
 from him, stating that he had held some communi- 
 cation Avith the Bishop of Norwich, who said, that if 
 he (Mathias) would bring his friend to him, and he 
 found him competent to fill the office of the ministry.
 
 238 HIS ORDINATION. [lET. 
 
 he was happy to say he had not tied up his hands, 
 as some of his brother bishops had done, and that he 
 should be willing to ordain him ; for he had always 
 considered that a person who entered the Church 
 on choice, the result of mature reflection, would be 
 more likely to be an honour to it than where he was 
 destined to the sacred profession at an early age 
 merely to take advantage of the interest of friends. 
 
 Mr. Bray, on a personal acquaintance, had the 
 good fortune fnlly to satisfy the Bishop. He after- 
 wards, also, was received with great kindness at 
 Norwich ; and, in consequence of the absence of the 
 chaplain, was examined by the chancellor. He was 
 ordained, in the ordinary course, in the cathedral of 
 that city. 
 
 Soon after this event he proceeded to Tavistock, 
 on a visit to his father and mother. He had scarcely 
 been there a few weeks, when the Rev. Eichard 
 Sleeman, Vicar of Tavistock, and perpetual curate 
 of Brent Tor, died. At this time Mr. Adam (now 
 Baron Adam, and Lord High Commissioner of 
 Scotland) was on a visit at the house of my husband's 
 father. This gentleman very kindly seconded Mr. 
 Bray, sen., in his application to his Grace the present 
 Duke of Bedford, who immediately named the object 
 of their solicitude to the vacant preferment, in the 
 year 1811. Thus, after so many changes of fortune, 
 Mr. Bray found himself at last in his native town, 
 with his nearest and dearest friends, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of his favourite Dartmoor ; and established 
 as a minister in that church on which he had always 
 fixed his desires and his hopes : and most thankful 
 has he ever felt for the blessing so peculiarly, though
 
 XXXVIII.] LOVE FOR THE ARTS. 239 
 
 SO late, conferred on him in liis choice of a profession. 
 He was indeed most forcibly reminded of the vicis- 
 situdes of his hfe when, on going to Brent Tor, the 
 first time he ever did duty, he met in his way thither 
 one of his old artillery-men, who very cordially 
 saluted liim with " How do you do. Captain ?" add- 
 ing the old proverb, " Once a captain, always a 
 captain." 
 
 Not unmindful of his former pursuits, even in a 
 new profession, Mr. Bray still bore in mind his wish 
 one day to give some account of his native toA^ai and 
 its vicinity. For this pm-pose he kept a slight jour- 
 nal of his excursions, and made many pencil sketches 
 during his walks and rides ; whilst the first year that 
 he was Kural Dean, he made a drawing of every 
 church he A-isited ; in some instances combining the 
 landscape Math the building. This series much 
 interested Mr. Stotharcl, the historical painter, to 
 whom they were shown in London ; and who said, 
 that if engraved, they would make a very good Avork, 
 as picturesque examples of the architecture which 
 chiefly prevailed in this part of England. 
 
 Of Mr. Bray's life as a clergyman, I must not 
 speak ; since, in giving him a place (which I could 
 not omit without the greatest injustice) in the bio- 
 graphy of his native town, it has been my aim to 
 state a few facts connected with him as simply as 
 possible, withholding all commendation of my own, 
 that I miofht not even seem to name them with the 
 slightest degree of favourable prejvidice or partiality. 
 The friends he has found and preserved through life, 
 and the respect and aifection of the worthy, both 
 rich and poor, in his own parish, are all I ask to 
 speak his praise ; he does not need mine.
 
 240 MR. bray's works. [let. 
 
 I must, liOAvever, add, that diffident of his own 
 powers, and anxious that his flock should haA'e the 
 benefit of those old divines from whose stores he had 
 himself derived so much knowledge and instruction, 
 he determined to commence his career, not by giving 
 them his own crude com]30sitions, nor yet mere 
 transcriptions from others, however excellent they 
 might be : for some years, therefore, he compressed 
 and modernized a vast number of those old and 
 sterling writers whose works, though known but to 
 students, will ever remain as monuments of honour 
 to the Church, and to the country that gave them 
 birth. Delighted with this pursuit, he determined 
 to go still farther, and both studied and translated 
 in a manner capable of being delivered from the 
 pvilpit, the most eloquent and orthodox portions of 
 the Greek and Latin Fatliers. 
 
 Of original sermons, Mr. Bray has a very con- 
 siderable collection ; though he did not venture on 
 the composition of these till he had long studied in 
 the school of those great examples above mentioned. 
 He has published, besides the poems already alluded 
 to, ' Sermons selected from the works of the most 
 eminent Divines of the sixteenth, sevent»^enth, and 
 eighteenth centuries ; abridged, and rendered in a 
 modern and appropriate style.' 
 
 'Discourses adapted to the Pal])it, or to the use 
 of Families, from Tracts and Treatises of eminent 
 Divines.' 
 
 ' Select Sermons of the Right Reverend Thomas 
 Wilson, D.D., Bishop of Sodor and Man : abridged, 
 and rendered in a familiar but less colloquial style.' 
 
 'Lyric Hymns,' published 1820. 
 
 The following songs printed (not published) in
 
 XXXVIII.] MR. bray's works. 241 
 
 1821 :—' Idyls; part the first; 'Funeral Ode on 
 tlic Death of Lord Nelson.' 
 
 * Look before you Leap ; or. Caution Recom- 
 mended m decidmof on the Claims of the Roman 
 Catholics, by Anti-Romanus.' 
 
 ' Discourses on Protestantism, as a Fundamental 
 and Pervading Principle in Church and State.' 
 
 These last named sermons are original; they were 
 delivered by Mr. Bray in the church of Tavistock, 
 in the year 1829, and published at the request of 
 many of his most respectable parishioners. 
 
 ' A Sermon, preached at the Visitation of the 
 Yen. the Archdeacon of Totnes, in the Parish 
 Church of Tavistock, on Thursday, June 20th, 1833, 
 and printed at the request of some of the clergy 
 present.' 
 
 i ought to have mentioned that Mr. Bray con- 
 tributed to the ' Classical Journal' some papers on 
 the Classic Metres ; and to another periodical, whose 
 name I have forgotten, some communications on the 
 Italian Sonnet. 
 
 At the particular request of his Grace the Duke 
 of Bedford, my husband took on himself, though 
 much against his own inclinations, the duties of a 
 magistrate, in the year 1812. Thinking himself, 
 therefore, entitled to something like superannuation, 
 after serving his Majesty in this capacity for more 
 than twenty years, he now avails himself of the as- 
 sistance of some of his friends, and seldom takes his 
 seat in the Guildhall of our town. 
 
 In 1822, after keeping the regular terms, &c., 
 as a ten years' mail, Mr. Bray took his degree 
 as Bachelor of Divinity of Trinity College, Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 VOL. III. M
 
 242 LYRIC HYMNS. [lET. 
 
 I shall conclude this account of my husband with a 
 slight mention of his 'Lyric Hymns,' "printed, but 
 never in an}* way advertised, nor circulated, except- 
 ins: amono-st friends, in the year 1620. Of these 
 poems (to which, from the greater variety of metre 
 than is usual in such compositions, it is presumed 
 that music might more easily be adapted.) those 
 marked with an asterisk in the table of contents, 
 were (he tells us in the preface) suggested b}- pas- 
 sages in the works of some old di^■ines." The fol- 
 lowing paragraph I also A-enture to extract from the 
 preface to this my favourite little volume : — '• He may 
 be excused, perhaps, for adding, that the first three 
 hymns are contained in a volume of poems published 
 by the author in 1799 ; and that the ivhole were sent 
 to a London bookseller in 1817, but, owing to 
 certain circumstances, were not then printed. And 
 this he more particularly mentions, lest he might be 
 supposed to have borrowed the hymn entitled ' Life,* 
 fi'om a passage in • Human Life,' a poem published 
 by Mr. Rogers in 1819. He hopes, therefore, to be 
 pardoned, in the present instance, by referring to 
 Bossuet* for the subject of the hymn in question." 
 
 As a proof, however, that when borrowing a subject 
 from a prose writer, as a hint for verse, Mr. Bray is 
 no servile translator, I shall give, at full length, his 
 hymn of ' Life.' 
 
 LYRIC HYMNS. 
 
 LIFE. 
 Life's like a road whose farthest bound 
 Ends in a precipice profound, 
 
 * Abreg6 d'un Sermon preche a Meaux le jour de Paques. Phi- 
 lip, iv. 4.
 
 XXXVIII.] LYRIC HYMNS. 
 
 And, ere its unknown length we range, 
 The danger we're forwarn'd to heed. 
 
 But, such the law thit knows no change. 
 We may not pause, we muU proceed. 
 
 Fain would we backward turn with fear. 
 
 But •• Forward I Forward '." meets our ear. 
 
 Unseen, but not unfelt, a hand. 
 Not all our efforts can withstand, 
 Now drags us up some rocky steep, 
 
 To gaze the dizzy scene below ; 
 Now, in some valley's shadowy deep, 
 
 Urges the viewless path of woe. 
 "Let rest our weaiy iimbs restore !" 
 No '• Forward :" thunders as before. 
 
 Yet, to console us, still remains 
 
 Some short-Uved pleasure 'mid our pains. 
 
 Glittering with mornings orient beam, 
 
 Here laugh the dew-besprinkled flowers ; 
 There winds, through groves, the murmuring stream, 
 
 Whilst birds flit warbling "mid their bowers. 
 " Oh ! sure we here awhile may stay !"' 
 ^1^1 uo— "tis '-Forward! haste! away!" 
 
 But see, behind, where'er we pass. 
 
 Falls with dread crash the crumbling mass. 
 
 And yet, because 'tis ours to wear 
 
 A fading garland wove in haste, 
 Because some tempting fruits we share. 
 
 Short though their savour to the taste; 
 In mirth a fcw charm'd hours we spend. 
 Nor heed to what our footsteps tend. 
 
 Still hurried on, 'mid fancied bliss. 
 Our steps approach the dread abyss. 
 And now, alas ! how changed the scene ! 
 
 The birds are mute within their bowers, 
 The streams less clear, the meads less green, 
 
 Less sweet the fruits, less fresh the flowers. 
 Death hovers o'er the gulf, and Fear : 
 And now we feel that we are near. 
 
 A step, and we are on the brink : 
 
 " Forward I" Ah ! yes, 'tis vain to shrink. 
 
 m2 
 
 243
 
 244 LYRIC HYMNS. [lET. 
 
 Horror thro' all our senses flies ; 
 
 A dizzy vapour loads our head, 
 And presses on our straining eyes. 
 
 'Tis vain our backward patli to tread; 
 The path itself is now no more- 
 All fallen and vanish'd — all is o'er ! 
 
 HYMN. 
 The Sun. 
 
 Mark huw the siibject flowers obey 
 
 The motions of the orb of day ; 
 
 As tho' they could, or would, not flourish 
 
 \'\'ithout his beams their life to nourish : 
 
 They shut, at eve, each dewy leaf, 
 
 And hang their heads all pale with grief. 
 
 But, soon as orient morning glows, 
 We see each leaf its folds unclose, 
 Tho' still in part its charms disguising 
 As tho' to hail its welcome rising. 
 Whilst, for his noontide blessing shed. 
 Those grateful charms are wide dispread. 
 
 Thus, Lord ! but turn thy face away. 
 The heart to sorrow falls a prey ; 
 Whilst, in thy presence, without measure 
 Flows the full flood of heavenly pleasure. 
 Oh! be it mine the world to shun, 
 Of every carnal heart the sun. 
 
 When that or gives or hides its beams. 
 Its joys or sorrows are but dreams : 
 Yes, vain are those your heart to cherish. 
 And yield to these, for aye you perish ; 
 Whilst, Sun of Righteousness ! thy ray 
 Guides us to Life's eternal day. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Choice of Seasons. 
 When comes the stork from distant climes ? 
 When, but at her appointed times ?
 
 XXXVIII.] LYRIC HYMNS. 245 
 
 Unruled by compass or by chart, 
 
 Borne on the pinions of the breeze, 
 
 For foieit^ii realms, o'er trackless seas. 
 Swallows, at their fix'd hour, depart. 
 
 And who the nightingale, sweet bird ! 
 E'er 'mid the heats of harvest heard? 
 Or screaming bittern call her brood, 
 
 When wintry tempests scour the sky ? 
 
 Close in their cells e'en silkworms lie 
 Till burst the mulberry buds, their food. 
 
 Thou, Lord ! appointed times hast given 
 
 To every purpose under heaven. 
 
 E'en acts indifferent, timely done, 
 To good may by thy blessing turn : 
 And e'en what's lawful we may mourn, 
 
 If hut untimely 'twas begun. 
 
 But virtue, piety, inid grace, 
 
 Can ne'er be out of time or place. 
 
 Oh ! whilst my heart is filled with Thee, 
 
 Be mine on earth my voice to raise 
 
 In loud hosannas to thy praise, 
 Nor cease but with eternity. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 '•' Use this u'oy/d as not abusing itJ' 
 Some from the world to wilds have flown, 
 To fix their thoughts on God alone ; 
 But, ah ! too late, lliemselves, they find, 
 They left, e'en as the world, behind. 
 
 "What mortal eye, with constant gaze. 
 Can dare the sun's meridian blaze P 
 If God were ever in our sight 
 'Twould blind us with excess of light. 
 
 From heavenly thoughts a timely rest 
 Endears them with a double zest : 
 Nay, earthly blessings, by thy care, 
 'Tis ours, O God I with joy to share. 
 
 Yet earth's best joys I'd little prize, 
 If long tliey took me from thine eyes : 
 Oh ! be it mine, through them, to view. 
 And, in them, to enjoy Thee too.
 
 246 LYRIC HYMNS. [lET. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Growth in Grace. 
 
 We form our wishes, and fulfil 
 
 (Such ouv vain boast !) the self-same hoHr : 
 Whilst God, who needs but speak his will, 
 
 Takes time to execute his power. 
 
 The gavd'ner sows the rarest seed, 
 That slow its tender leaves untblds ; 
 
 And, scarce distinguish'd from a weed. 
 The eye the future flower beholds. 
 
 At length, matured by suns and showers, 
 By spiing's cold blasts and summer's heats, 
 
 She peers above her rival flowers, 
 Vanquish'd by her superior sweets. 
 
 Can I, then, hope the seeds of grace. 
 That ill my heart have fixed their root, 
 
 (So poor the soil, so close the space,) 
 
 With instant growth shall yield their fruit ? 
 
 Be as Thou wilt thy blessings given ; 
 
 Gladly, O God ! I wait thy leisure: 
 So that Thou bring my soul to heaven, 
 
 The way, the hour, be at thy pleasure. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 The Coniiemned Criminal. 
 
 Just and righteous is my sentence ; 
 
 Certain death awaits my crime : 
 Gracious God ! be mine repentance 
 
 \^■hilst I've still the gilt of time. 
 For, as man his life has ended, 
 
 So is fixed his final doom : 
 Justice, here with mercy blended, 
 
 Flows unmixed beyond the tomb. 
 
 My body is my real prison ; 
 
 My sins, Ah ! they're my real chains ; 
 Thou that from the grave art risen. 
 
 Thou alone canst ease my pains:
 
 XXXVIII.] LYRIC HYMNS. 247 
 
 Thou, a sinful world redeeming, 
 
 Oh ! for me the ransom pay; 
 And thy blood, in mercy streaming, 
 
 Wash each deadly stain away. 
 
 But, thy fears, ah ! why dissemble, 
 
 Why, my soul ! so near the grave. 
 When the good, though aided, tremble 
 
 'Mid iheir work themselves to save ? 
 Jesus ! so I 'scape perdition, 
 
 Let me thy full vengeance share ; 
 Turtured now with jubt contrition. 
 
 Bid thy hand hereafter spare. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 XJncertaintij of Life. 
 
 Thru' eve's thick shades that veil the sky, 
 No moon, no star can dart its r.ij's : 
 
 But still tlie Lord's all-seeing eye 
 Our every thought and deed surveys. 
 
 Our limbs from labour to repose, 
 We welcome the return of night ; 
 
 Tho' vain our hopes and fears, who knows 
 If e'er we hail to-morruw's light ? 
 
 To God, then, let us humbly pray, 
 
 That we each fleeting hour may spend 
 
 As if, with the decline of day, 
 
 Our lives should likewise have an end. 
 
 HYMN. 
 Divine Power. 
 
 " Be light !'' — Light was : no sooner heard 
 Than done, O Ciod, thy sovereign word. 
 Chaos, 'mid his wild commotion, 
 
 Hush'd to peace, thj- will obey'd ; 
 W^ithin his limits sunk the ocean, 
 
 And earth her bulwarks round array'd. 
 
 Oh ! 1)3' thy mighty power controul 
 The raging tumults of my soul.
 
 248 LVRIC HYMNS. [lET. 
 
 Let not doubts my passions darken. 
 
 Plunged iu sin's o'eiwhelmint^ night : 
 But bid them to thy mandates b.earkon, 
 
 And walk by Truth's supernal light. 
 
 Then (thy grace alone can save 
 The prey of Death and of the Grave), 
 Rescued from those dread dominions, 
 
 AVhere ihe gnawing worm ne'er dies, 
 Shall angels bear me on their pinions 
 
 Before thy throne above the skies. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 hiierchange of Conditions. 
 
 Unchangeable Thyself, yet man 
 (Though life, O God 1 is but a span) 
 Thou'st subjected within its range 
 To many a sad but gracious change. 
 
 Unmingled pleasure soon would cloy, 
 ^Vlulst suffering gives a zest to joy : 
 The heart, too swoirn with prosperous pride, 
 Would wholly in itself confide. 
 
 If, in the hottest of the fight, 
 
 We faint and almost torn for flight. 
 
 Thy Spirit frees us from alarm, 
 
 And prompts the vengeance of our arm. 
 
 And if, victorious in the field, 
 
 Not, Lord, to Thee ! our sword and shield, 
 
 But to ourselves we think 'tis due ; 
 
 In chains our insolence we rue. 
 
 Oh ! be not then dismay'd, my soul ! 
 Beneath affliction's dread control; 
 Since, canst thou but the storm outride, 
 Thy keel in calmest course shall glide. 
 
 Nor, if thou'rt blest with prosperous gales. 
 Let vanity inflate thy sails ; 
 Since sudden whirlwinds round may roar, 
 And wreck thee on the wish'd-for shore.
 
 XXXVIII.] LYRIC HYMNS. 249 
 
 HYMN. 
 For Good Friday. 
 
 See ! for sinful man's fransgressiou 
 Hell's dread triumpb, Heaven's depression, 
 
 Jesus, his great work now ended, 
 (Oh, what luve ! that our Creator 
 Should assume our wretched nature !) 
 
 Jesus on the cross extended. 
 
 Those hands, that Heaven's bright sceptre wielded, 
 To weakest rebels calmly yielded : 
 
 Those brows, but late with glory beaming. 
 Crown' d with sharp thorns now droop and languish ; 
 And, furrow'd by his dying anguish, 
 
 Adown his cheeks the blood is streaming. 
 
 See ! thro' those feet the nails are driven 
 That trod the starry floor of heaven; 
 
 And hark ! how peals the rolling thunder! 
 Earth trembles, whilst the skies o'erciouded, 
 The sun's in pitchy darkness shrouded : 
 
 All nature shrinks with fear and wonder. 
 
 The sea lays bare her deepest fountains, 
 The valleys swell, the sinking mountains 
 
 E'en to their very base are shaken ; 
 Whilst at Heaven's call, by holy sages, 
 Who in the tomb have slept for ages, 
 
 Is many a hallow'd grave forsaken. 
 
 And, is it man's last hopeless ruin ? 
 Oh, no — it is his blest renewing ; 
 
 For death "tis Victory's now to swallow. 
 Christ dies, but then is most victorious : 
 His course to heaven is then more glorious. 
 
 And we our Saviour's steps shall follow. 
 
 Having given you tliesc few liymn.s, &c. from a 
 ver}' numerous collection of Mr. Bray's poetical com- 
 positions, I here conclude, for the present, assuring 
 you how much 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Very faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray. 
 M 3
 
 250 [let. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents: — Account of a remarkable boy, Jobn Winter — His extra- 
 ordinary genius for mechanics — His parents — Birth — Only seven 
 years old when he made his first piece of mechanism — His second 
 attempt at nine years of age — His anchor shop model — Its ma- 
 chinery — Brought to great perfection — Completed at thirteen — His 
 last and most remarkable discovery, an improvement on the parallel 
 motion of the steam-engine — His age, character, powers of mind, 
 &c.. described — Mr. Edmund Pearse, surgeon of Tavistock — His 
 collection of minerals — Specimens resembling the pointed or Gothic 
 arch — Unique — Letter from Mr. Pearse to Mrs. Bray on the mines, 
 and anecdotes of mining in the neighbourhood. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, October 5, 1835. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I HAVE recentl}^ become acquainted with a boy 
 who is of this place, and so remarkable that I hasten 
 to give you some account of him. He possesses an 
 extraordinarv genius for mechanics ; a genivis which, 
 if brought forward and encouraged, would not fail to 
 be rendered alike beneficial to himself and to so- 
 ciety. 
 
 His name is John Winter. He is the son of a 
 poor man, who was a wheelwright at Morwel-hara 
 in this parish. Soon after his birth, his father 
 becoming foreman to the iron foundery at Tavistock, 
 the child was removed thither by his parents, and 
 sent to a little school to learn to read and write. In
 
 XXXIX.] JOHN WINTER. 251 
 
 this he took no pleasure ; to use his own words, he is 
 "no scholar," and whilst pursuing these rudiments 
 in his infant jears, his hours hung- so heavy on his 
 hands, that he used to wish school over, that he 
 might be at home to employ his leisure in making 
 liis machinery ; that was all his delight. The first 
 piece of mechanism he made, which I have seen, was 
 the model of a shingle mill for beating out scrap iron. 
 When he executed this he was only seven years old. 
 His father expressed himself pleased with this early 
 attempt, and told him to go on to something of 
 more consequence. 
 
 His next performance was the model of a plating 
 mill for making shovels, which, as well as the former, 
 he copied from the foundery. In the plating mill 
 he succeeded in giving action to all the figures in a 
 most remarkable manner. Two men are seen at the 
 hammer maldng shovels, and two others rolling bars 
 of iron. A man is introduced looking into a furnace 
 to see if it is of a proper degree of heat, &c. He 
 next shuts the door, and looks round to the men to 
 ascertain if they are ready for the bar after it had 
 been heated. Another workman is busied in paring 
 the shovels with hand-shears. Each portion of this 
 model performs its part by unseen machinery. John 
 Winter was but nine years old when he completed it : 
 a task truly wonderful for such a clidd ; the mecha- 
 nism of the v/hole being entirel}^ his own invention. 
 
 His next effort, which cost him three years' labour 
 during his leisure hours, Avas a model on a yet more 
 extensive scale. It represents what he calls an 
 anchor shop. Every portion of this work seems to 
 have attained an extraordinary degree of perfection. 
 Four men are at work upon an anchor, which they
 
 252 JOHN WINTER. [lET. 
 
 strike in every part ; and two others are engaged in 
 making the stem of a second anchor. A party of 
 strangers are arrived to see the works ; and a clerk 
 comes out of his office, accosts them, and afterwards 
 returns. A forge carpenter is very busily engaged, 
 and a boy, with a begging cap in his hand, solicits 
 contributions from the visitants. The figures thus 
 briefly noticed are really good, and were both de- 
 signed, modelled, and put in action by young Win- 
 ter ; but he ffot his little sister to make their dresses, 
 and the son of a barber in the town supplied the clerk 
 with a wig. Not the least wonder of this work is 
 seen by examining the machinery which is affixed to 
 the imder part of the top of the table on which the 
 figures, forges, &c., are seen in due order and motion. 
 Contrary to all clock work, there is no noise of wheels, 
 &c., the noise heard being the hammering of the 
 puppets on the anchors, in exact imitation of the 
 sounds, in time and stroke, of those heard in an 
 iron foundcry. Winter finished this piece of me- 
 chanism when he was in his thirteenth year. 
 
 But his greatest, and from what I hear, his most 
 useful work, is his improvement on the steam engine. 
 He showed us the model of it. He considers that he 
 has discovered a mode of regulating parallel motion 
 in this engine. He first executed a model of his 
 plan in wood, and finding it answer, he is now com- 
 pleting one in brass He is at this time in his seven- 
 teenth year. 
 
 You may suppose the interest which the works of 
 this remarkable youth have excited in us. We have 
 had liim with us at the vicarage, where he gave us a 
 most modest account of himself and of his schemes. 
 On inquiry, Mr. Bray found that he had seen but
 
 XXXIX.] JOHN WINTER. 253 
 
 few models of clock work, and in these he had never 
 seen the machinery which set them in motion. He 
 has often, he told us, laid awake in his bed thinking 
 of his machinery ; and in bed he generally invented 
 all the complex movements of his works. But he 
 could never follow up the train of his ideas after day- 
 light appeared. We were greatly pleased with him : 
 his countenance is open, agreeable, and strongly 
 marked about the brows with the characteristics of 
 genius. To see him without feeling an interest for 
 him is impossible ; and this is increased by his in- 
 telligence and his naturally good manners. He is 
 altogether a very fine youth. 
 
 I must now turn to another subject of considerable 
 interest, and one that I have great pleasure in 
 introducino- to vour notice : the minerals, and anec- 
 
 & 
 
 ) 
 
 dotes connected with mining of this neisrhbourhood. 
 Mr. Edmund Pearse, surgeon of Tavistock, has been 
 kind enough to indulge me with a sight of his beau- 
 tiful museum (for such it may be called) of native 
 and local minerals. Amongst these are specimens 
 of a singular formation, resembling the pointed or 
 Gothic arch, with mathematical exactness; these 
 minerals have only been found in oiie mine that is 
 in this neighbourhood. All mineralogists have pro- 
 nounced them to be unique. The following letter, 
 which I doubt not will interest you as much as it 
 has ourselves, is from the pen of Mr. Pearse : — 
 
 " TO MRS, BRAY. 
 
 " Tavistock, October 2, 1835. 
 
 "Madam, 
 
 '• It would afford me pleasure to furnish you 
 with a statement of such particulars as you require 
 relative to the mines and miners of our neighbour-
 
 254 MR. pearse's letter. [let. 
 
 hood ; but the veiy hmited stock of information I 
 possess on the subject, and the fact of my not being 
 versed either in mineralogy or geological science, 
 renders me rather an incompetent person to supply 
 the required materials. However, I udll furnish you 
 with a brief sketch of some facts which I have been 
 able to collect at diiferent periods from my occa- 
 sional intercourse with the miners and the mines in 
 the immediate vicinity of Tavistock. Dartmoor, it 
 is well known, abounds with lodes of iron and tin ; 
 several of the latter have at all periods been very 
 productive, and many more are now likely to be 
 woi'ked by the Plymouth and Dartmoor Company 
 with spirit and success. In one of these mines, near 
 Moreton Hampstead, manganese and calcareous 
 spar have been found inclosed in masses of solid 
 granite at the depth of sixty fathoms ; a fact which 
 ill accords with most of our popular geological 
 theories. I have several specimens of this man- 
 ganese in my own museum. The same mine also 
 has produced some elegant specimens of variegated 
 quartz, needle tin, red, yellow, black, and rose 
 quartz; also some splendid octohedral, pseudo- 
 morphous crj'stals of a large size, sometimes inclosing 
 a little water ; but no other vestige of the original 
 formation, and no apparent outlet which might have 
 given exit to the materials of the decomposed 
 crystal, forming a beautiful subject for the specula- 
 tions of the electro-chemical mineralogist. 
 
 " The stream works, though less productive than 
 the mines, are still, in many instances, a source of 
 profit to the adventurer. Formerly some grains of 
 gold were found in these streams, and it was not un- 
 common for the miner to carry in his pocket a quill
 
 XXXIX.] MR. PEARSE's LETTER. 255 
 
 in which to deposit them. In and about the old 
 stream works there are now to be seen several re- 
 mains of the Phoenician smelting-houses, called by 
 the miners Jews' Houses : from one of these, near 
 the confluence of the east and west Dart, about 
 three years since, there was taken tin ore, which was 
 redressed and smelted at Crowndalo, by the present 
 Tavistock Smelting Company ; and not far from this 
 place there was found a block of Jew's tin, supposed 
 to be the most ancient in existence, and now in the 
 possession of a g-entleman of this town. The siu'face 
 of this block betrays marks of great antiq\iity, being- 
 much coroded bv the influence of those external 
 ao;ents to which it has been exposed. 
 
 " I remember, about twelve years ago, to have 
 seen a very old woodcut, which exhibited a whole 
 pack of hounds harnessed and laden with little bags 
 of tin, travelling over the mountains of Dartmoor ; 
 these animals being able to cross the deep bogs of 
 the forest in situations where there were no roads, 
 and where no other beasts of burden could pass. 
 The old miners on the moor are rather more super- 
 stitious than those residing in towns. The horse- 
 shoe is iuvariablv affixed to some of the erections 
 belonging to the mine to prevent witchcraft The 
 precise origin of tliis superstitious practice I am 
 unable to learn ; the only explanation I have heard 
 given is, that the devil always travels in circles, and 
 that he is consequently interrupted when he arrives 
 at either of the heels of the .shoe, and obliged to 
 take a retrograde course. 
 
 " The miners have invariably a great horror and 
 dread at whistling underground, believing it to 
 be very unlucky ; they regard it also as unlucky
 
 256 MK. PE arse's letter. [let. 
 
 to work either on Midsummer, or New-year's day, 
 or on the eves of these days; and, formerly, all 
 red-letter days were deemed sacred. On these 
 occasions they also affix to the top of the principal 
 engine, or building, a flag, or bush, which they call 
 a sirifch — it is said that this was originally done to 
 commemorate the opening of the tin trade with 
 China. 
 
 •• It is not uncommon in deep mines, where there 
 are what the miners term vugs — or where there are 
 large pseudomorphous crystallizations — to hear loud 
 and frecpient explosions, and that on occasions and 
 in situations Avhere no miners are at work : these 
 noises the men believe to be occasioned by the work- 
 ing of the fairies, or pixies, whom they call small 
 men; but the true cause is the bvu'sting open of 
 some of these crystals, hollows, and vugs, where the 
 air or "'as had been confined under very hijj-h de- 
 grees of pressure, 
 
 " A miner of this town very lately broke into one 
 of those hollows of considerable size, of a grotto-like 
 appearance, and richly studded with crystals of 
 quartz and pyrites, which, by the light of his candle, 
 had such a brilhant appearance as made the man 
 say 'he thought he was in heaven;' and being 
 asked in what respect lie tliought it resembled 
 lieaven' he replied, ' It was so beautiful, he could 
 compare it to nothing else than to a Jew's shop.' 
 
 '• Huel Fricndsliip, in the parish of Marv Tavy, 
 has been for years, and is now, the richest copper- 
 mine in this district : there has been lately erected 
 on the mine a magnificent steam-engine, which in 
 power may be ranked as the third in England. 
 Tliis mine has furnished for the cabinet of the
 
 XXXIX,] MR. PEARSe's LETTER. 257 
 
 mineralogist specimens of chesel spar beautifully 
 coloured Avitli amethystine tints, tongsfafe of lime, 
 slickensidcs, pavonites, and crystals of pyrites of 
 various forms fi'om the cube to the ekosihedron. I 
 have a crystal of the latter description, whose planes 
 are equilateral triangles highly polished, -with be- 
 velled edges. 
 
 " In the parish of Calstock, on the Cornish 
 banks of the Tamar, Gunnis Lake Mine has been 
 lately re-opened by Capt. Thomas Teage and Co. 
 A few years since, this mine, of all others was the 
 most productive in specimens of vranite, malachite, 
 arseniates, carbonates, sulphates, and native coppers ; 
 also plush copper, resembling the richest velvet, 
 crimson, green, and blue. The Beer Mines are also 
 again at work for silver and lead, and are likely to 
 replenish the cabinets of the curious with tabular 
 quartz, galena, variegated and multiformed jluors, con- 
 taining water, particles of silver, iron, lead, titanium, 
 pyrites and copper. A polyhedral crystal of fluor 
 from this mine is described by Phillips in his ' In- 
 troduction to Mineralogy,' page 170, as bounded by 
 322 planes. 
 
 " The manganese Mines in the neighbourhood 
 of Brent Tor have furnished specimens of singular 
 form and beauty ; some perfect letters and figures, 
 leaves, leaflets, and embossed arborescent forms. 
 
 " The Virtuous Lady Mine, situated on Roborough 
 Down, in the parish of Buckland, immediately below 
 the junction of the Walkham and Tavy, is the most 
 celebrated mine in Devonshire for the variety and 
 singularity of its r-abinct specimens. 
 
 "Besides the brilliant, well-defined crystals of 
 titanium, fishscale iron, dodecahedral and cubic
 
 258 MR. pearse's letter. [let. 
 
 crystals of pyrites, milk and cream quartz, pa- 
 vonites and tetraliedral crystals of copper, red, 
 blue, purple, yellow and violet, it has produced 
 specimens of copper Avliicli, when turned about 
 under the rays of the sun, assume, or rather re- 
 flect, a different colour from every different an- 
 gle of incidence, — orange, gold, crimson, violet, 
 green, &c.. Sec. 
 
 " The capped quartz from this mine are among 
 the finest in the world. I have in my collection one 
 specimen having upwards of thirty truncated crys- 
 tals, every one of which will exhibit, when the cap is 
 removed, corresponding apices to those of the caps. 
 But the most modern, as well as the most inex- 
 plicable of the productions of this mine, are the 
 Gothic arches of spathose iron, which were found 
 in great abundance in the years 1832 and 1833. 
 Some of these arches have been shown to different 
 mineralogists, who have offered various hypotheses 
 relative to their formation. 
 
 "By one they Avere said to be depositions of 
 spathose iron upon some implements used by the 
 miners of a very remote period. 
 
 " Another gave it as his opinion that they were 
 formed in the same way by depositions on a vege- 
 table production, such as the dock-leaf, &c., and were 
 placed in their present situation by some great con- 
 A-ulsion of nature. 
 
 " The theory of their formation advanced by the 
 miners themselves, is just as good as either of the 
 above, which is, that they were moulded by the 
 soles of the shoes of the antediluvian miners, or 
 tlie shoes and feet of tlie small men, that is, the 
 fairies or pixies.
 
 XXXIX,] MR. PEARSE's LETTER. 259 
 
 " Some of these arches are grooved round the 
 edges ; others are quite hollow, showing that they 
 were moulded originally on some other substance 
 of the arched form, which substance is, in most in- 
 stances, entirely removed, but in others some cal- 
 careous matter has been found. These arches are 
 frequently found standing on, and having their hol- 
 lows communicating with, a sort of cavern, of a pseu- 
 domorphous cubic crystalline form, as if they once 
 contained cubic crystals of fluor, or pyrites. In one 
 of these caverns, in my possession, there is, as if 
 precipitated at the bottom, a calcareous stalagmite, 
 on which rests an isolated crystal of copper. About 
 six fathoms from the situation of these arches and 
 caverns, separated by solid rock, there was found a 
 multitude of cubic crystals of pyrites of various 
 magnitudes, well fitting the cubic hollows in the 
 caverns above alluded to *. 
 
 " It is possible that at some distant period, in a 
 great convulsion of nature, these cubes might have 
 been shaken out of their shells, and removed six 
 fathoms distant from them ; but supposing this to 
 have been the case, we still are as much as ever in 
 the dark as to the formation of the Lancet Arch, 
 Avhich seems to have been produced with mathe- 
 matical accuracy and precision. 
 
 '•' The truth is, we are not yet in possession of a 
 sufficient number of facts to warrant our coming to 
 any conclusion on the subject. 
 
 "When adverting above to the superstition of 
 the miners, I had forgotten to relate a circumstance 
 
 * Tliere was raised one of the arches without a hase, and elon- 
 gated, i'ormiiijj a double arch, with a smaller one lying trans-versely 
 across its middle. This specimen is unique.
 
 260 MR. pearse's letter. [let. 
 
 which occurred a few ycms since, near Roborough 
 Rock. Three men were at work late on the Saturday 
 night at the South Devon Wharf, Avhen suddenly they 
 saw issue from the rock a large ball of fire, which, 
 with a rumbling noise, rolled on towards them, and 
 in its approach assumed a variety of forms ; some- 
 times that of a human figure, then of a church with 
 ai'chcd windows, pillars, &c., &c. The men were 
 dreadfully terrified, and calling to their recollection 
 that the Sunday had commenced, they fully believed 
 they saw, and were pursued by the devil ; and this 
 continues to be their firm conviction. 
 
 "The fact is, that it is not very uncommon for 
 inflammable gas to issue from the back of lodes, 
 which ignites as soon as it comes in contact with the 
 oxygen of the atmosphere. The ground where 
 these men were working is full of iron and tin lodes, 
 and there can be no doubt but that their fears not 
 only gave the name but also the form to the meteor. 
 
 " The superstition relative to the dowsing or di- 
 A'ining rod, and the dowsers themselves, is too well 
 known to be noticed here. The only instance that 
 I know of its having been used in Devonshire, Avas 
 at Stickelpath, near Oakham])ton, about six years 
 since, where a dowser was brought up, at a consider- 
 able expense, from the west of Cornwall, by a set of 
 adventurers, who, notwithstanding the favourable 
 ])rcdictions of the dowser, have found their specu- 
 lation an unprofitable adventure. 
 " 1 am. Madam, 
 " With respect, 
 
 " Your obedient Servant, 
 
 '' Edmund Pkarse."
 
 XL.] 261 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents: — Sume short account of the most striking scenes and 
 remarkable places in the vicinity of the Town — Junction of the 
 rivers Tavy and Walkham — Called the Double Water — Grenofen a 
 beautiful place — Raven Rock — The Valley — The Virtuous Lady — • 
 Miniature Alpine Bridge — A girl lost whilst passing it — Super- 
 stition respecting the river Tamar — Walreddon House an ancient 
 domain, fine woods and grounds — Mount Tavy — Rowdon Wood — 
 Park Wood — Account of an extraordinary tempest, or whirlwind, 
 in Rowdon Wood, in 1768 — Admirably described by Mr. GuUett— 
 His description givea — Ride to Ward Bridge — Most delightfi.l 
 scenery — Wood Town — Spenser the poet — Lines quoted from his 
 'Shepheard's Calendar' — View of Vixen Tor from the field — Re- 
 markable effect at sunset — Excursion continued — The Pass, or 
 entrance to the Moor — The Cursus— Spirit of a horse — A runaway 
 racehorse stopped by Sir Win. Trelawny in a remarkable manner — 
 Ride to New Bridge — Magnificent scenery — The public indebted to 
 the Duke of Bedford for a new road over the summit of the rocks — 
 Morwel Roi-ks ; their beauty and grandeur — Endsleigh Cottage — 
 Seat of the Duke of Bedford — Blanch-down Woods — Denham 
 Bridge — Vdlage of Peter Tavy ; its beauty and interest — Chil- 
 dren and peasantry — The Coombe— Valley of Waterfalls — Brent 
 Tor — Cudlipp Town — Mr. Bray's Manor stands in the parish of 
 Tavistock — excluded from the benefit of franchise by the Re- 
 form Bill — Story uf a Judge and Mary Tavy and Peter Tavy — 
 Mary Tavy scenery — The Shellands — Story of a bandit who lived 
 in a wood, and became the terror of the country round Dunter- 
 ton — Some account of the Abbots of Tavistock, by tlie Rev. Mr. G. 
 Oliver of Exeter — The Author takes leave of Mr. Southey — The 
 Conclusion. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, Sept. 24.1 f>, 1833. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I AM aware there ought to be in these letters 
 some account of the most remarkable places in our
 
 262 THE DOUBLE WATER. [lET. 
 
 nciglibourliood, in regard to the beauty of their 
 scenery. But this is a subject on which I have 
 little to say that would be new to you ; having- al- 
 ready, in ' Fitzford/ attempted incidentally to de- 
 scribe all that is most strildnij or worthv around us. 
 I have there spoken at large respecting Morwel 
 rocks, the vicinities of the Lumborne, the Tamar, 
 and the Tavy, Lidford waterfall, the glen, and the 
 castle, the cave and mine of the Virtuous Lady, with 
 the enchanting scenery by which it is surrounded, 
 &c. Nor can I help thinking, notwithstanding you 
 have been accustomed to the grandeur of mountain 
 and lake scenes, that you Avould be struck with the 
 exceeding beauty of our rocky rivers and our valleys. 
 I can well believe that our loftiest hills would look 
 as mole-hills to you, when compared to those of Cum- 
 berland ; but the forms of our tors, by which they 
 are generally crowned, are of the most picturesque 
 character, and so peculiar, that I question if any 
 other county, excepting Cornwall, can boast similar 
 granite pinnacles as the finish of their elevated 
 points. 
 
 The junction of the rivers Tavy and Walkliam, 
 at a wild romantic spot called the Double Water, 
 deserves notice. In its kind, it is one of the most 
 beautiful scenes I ever beheld : so, indeed, is the 
 whole of the valley leading to the Double Water. 
 Near the entrance v,from the Tavistock road) is 
 situated Grenofen *, a house surrounded by de- 
 lightful grounds, lawns, and trees. The Walkham 
 winds in the most beautiful manner through the 
 valley of Grenofen ; here rushing over masses of 
 rock, there clear as crystal, showing every pebble in 
 
 * Lately purchased by the Rev. J. P. Carpenter,
 
 XL. J THE RAVEN ROCK. 263 
 
 its bed, and forming at every turn little picturesque 
 falls of water. Sometimes the stream is interrupted 
 by larger masses, and is seen tumbling over them 
 in a sheet of boiling foam ; Avhilst near, in many a 
 deep hollow, it lies still and clear, reflecting, like a 
 mirror, every object around. The adjacent hills are 
 lofty, often abrupt ; here and there wooded or broken 
 in their sides, presenting a surface of crag and 
 cliff, partially covered witii lichen and ivy. In these 
 recesses the ravens make their nests ; and the rocks 
 are frequently found of the wildest forms, such as 
 Salvator himself woidd have chosen as a suitable 
 scene for the haunts of his banditti. The noblest of 
 these piles is called the Raven Rock ; no doubt from 
 the many birds of that tribe which harbour in it. 
 This, when seen at twilight, with the river rolling 
 and foamino- but a few vards from its base, has an 
 effect that acts powerfully on the imagination. In 
 the days of sviperstition I can well believe it might 
 have been deemed the haunt of pixies and spirits, that 
 make tlieir rings in the greensward at diisk, and lead 
 poor travellers astray, "laughing at their harms." 
 
 Passing the base of the Raven Rock, you still 
 follow the windings of the Walkham till you arrive at 
 the foot of a second acclivity, composed of rocks in 
 forms the most picturesque and fantastic that can 
 be imagined. These have of late been rendered pe- 
 culiarly interesting in consequence of their having 
 become the favovirite haunt of a flock of a'oats. 
 They make the scene alive ; and to view them stand- 
 ing sometimes on the edges of the crags (where you 
 Avould fancy the creatures could scarcely find footing), 
 to see them gambol or climb from one mass to ano- 
 ther, affords a most lively picture of animal enjoy- 
 ment. The junction of the streams^ wliich is not far
 
 264 ALPINE BRIDGE. [lET. 
 
 off, forming' a thousand rushes of water foaming 
 over a broken bed, the cliffs around, the trees, which 
 in some places overhang the banks, and the opening 
 of the magnificent vista of rock, height, river, and 
 wood that constitute the valley, where the cave and 
 mine of the A^irtuous Lady are situated, present alto- 
 gether such a scene as the pencil alone could attempt 
 to portray, so as to give any distinct idea of its cha- 
 racter. 
 
 When our friend Mr. Harding, the landscape 
 artist, was here, Mr. Bray set off to guide him to the 
 Virtuous Lady ; but Harding, who, like most men of 
 genius, is a great enthusiast, was so enchanted with 
 the scenery through which he had to pass in his way 
 thither, that he could never get to the place of desti- 
 nation ; and he sat down near the Goat Rock (as we 
 call it), took out his pencil, and I saw no more of 
 Mr. Bray and his guest till they were driven home 
 by the approach of evening *. 
 
 There is a miniature alpine bridge that crosses 
 the Walkham at its junction with the Tavy, near the 
 spot just named; this consists of a single plank, 
 with a light piece of wood extended as a hand-rail 
 to hold ])y in passing. In one part the plank is 
 supported by a clutter of rocks beneath, as a Devonian 
 would say in describing it. To stop on the middle 
 of this plank and look arovmd, will afford the greatest 
 delight to the lover of the picturesque; but let him 
 beware his head does not turn giddy, for though he 
 would have but a very few feet to fall, such is the trc- 
 
 * That most worthy man and meritorious artist, Mr. Lewis, has 
 made some beautiful tlrawinj^s in this neighbourhood from nature. 
 And one of the finest landscapes of modern times, a view on the Tavy, 
 was painted by him in oil, from his own sketch, and purchased by the 
 Duke of Hedford, who <^ave it to Mr. Wilson, the gentleman who 
 manages his property at Tavistock.
 
 XL.] A GIRL LOST. 265 
 
 mendous force of the current in this place, he would 
 be instantly whirled down like a snow-flake, should 
 the waters be at all full, as they always are after 
 recent rains or sudden heavy showers. A poor girl 
 was lost off this bridge not long ago, in crossing it 
 to go to church. A farmer, also, who had been 
 carried down the stream, was found drowned ; and 
 many thought he had fallen, perhaps, into the river 
 from this plank ; the railing is only on one side ; it 
 is altogether very dangerous. 
 
 The last time we visited this fairy scene was at 
 noon-day ; an hour that makes even cowards bold, 
 especially when the sun is shining out cheerfully, 
 and, like an alchymist, very liberally turning every 
 thinp- into 2,-old. Such at least was the effect I that 
 day Avitnessed ; every object, even the lightest cloud, 
 wore a bright yellow hue. Not afraid of falling, as 
 the plank was quite dry, I stopped half Avay in cross- 
 ing to enjoy the scene arouiid me. Such was the roar 
 of the water, for the stream was very full, that I 
 could not hear a v^ord Mr. Bray said, as he stood 
 calling to me from the bank only a few paces distant. 
 After looking for two or three minutes on the rocks, 
 the rush, the foam, and the whirl of the river, I felt 
 my head beginning to whirl too, so that I delayed 
 not a moment to get off as fast as I could from so 
 dangerous a footing ; and I could very well under- 
 stand how it might be that from time to time so 
 many persons lose their self-possession by a similar 
 affection of the head, and fall into the stream 
 below, whence they are hurried on to meet death in 
 the first deep pool into which they are borne. These 
 bridges are called clams, and they are never found 
 any where excepting across our rocky and mountain 
 
 VOL. III. N
 
 266 WALREDDON HOUSE, [lE T 
 
 streams. Whilst touching- on the subject of drown- 
 in<^ in rivers, I cannot forbear mentioning the super- 
 stitious legend respecting- the Tamar, which is by 
 many believed to be as true as the gospel. It is 
 averred, then, that the river Tamar demands, and 
 will have, the sacrifice of a human life once every 
 year ; and that if one year passes without a person 
 being drowned in its waters, the next the river is 
 sure to take two lives in order to make up the 
 number. 
 
 Walreddon House, before named, a very ancient 
 dwelling, stands not far distant from the Tavy, in 
 the direction of the Virtuous Lady valley and cave. 
 This house was built in the time of Edward VI., but 
 parts of it are of a much earlier date. The present 
 possessor, Mr. Courtcnay, is a great friend of ours, 
 and one we most highly regard and esteem. That 
 gentleman tells me there was formerly a chapel at 
 Walreddon. and other interesting remains of anti- 
 qviity, not the smallest vestige of which now exists. 
 A portion of the old hall, now converted into a 
 dining parlour, still retains the arms of Edward VI. 
 as its most predominant ornament. There are, too, 
 many windows, arch -headed doors, turnings, wind- 
 ings, and passages, that arc truly of ancient date. 
 The latter are somewhat puzzling- ; and when I was 
 once visiting for a fortnight at the house, I used 
 continually to make mistakes in finding my way to 
 my own chamber. Though I have no absolute 
 authority for saying so, yet I dovibt not, whilst Wal- 
 reddon was in the possession of Sir Richard Gren- 
 ville (after his marriage with Lady Howard) it un- 
 derwent a siege. There was a fine old entrance 
 gate, near the house, which some time since fell
 
 XL.] WOODS, AND GROUNDS. 267 
 
 down, and I suspect its ruinous condition was not 
 alone the eftccts of time, more likely of civil contest. 
 The spot in which this aged mansion stands is Avell 
 sheltered from the winds ; but it does not command 
 mvich view ; comfort, more than the picturesque, 
 having been consulted by our forefathers in the 
 erection of their dwellings. The scenery, however, 
 belonging to the domain of Walreddon is of ex- 
 ceeding beauty ; the woods covering the Avliole of a 
 steep range of hills down to the very edge of the 
 river, being broken and interspersed with cliflFs and 
 rocks that arc as delightful in their kind as anything 
 to be found in the West. A ride through Wal- 
 reddon woods is worth coming miles to enjoy ; and 
 Mr. Courtenay tells me he has lately cut a new path, 
 which he thinks exceeds the old one in the variety 
 and beauty of the scenes it unfolds. The house is 
 seen to most advantage from the elevated road (cut 
 on the side of a steep range of hills) leading towards 
 Beer. That road is celebrated throughout the 
 country for its scenery ; nothing can be more wild 
 and picturesque than it is in parts. Opposite Wal- 
 reddon (on the other side of the Tavy) it is charac- 
 terized by features so replete with grandeur, that 
 they may truly be called majestic. 1 attempted to 
 describe the scenery of this road, in Fitz-ford, in 
 making young John Fitz pass it, after his escape from 
 the cave of the Virtuous Lady. Here, therefore, I 
 say no more about it ; for a tale twice told, and a 
 view twice described, would be tedious. 
 
 Mount Tavy is a very pretty place in itself; but 
 not equal to Walreddon or Grenofen as a domain. 
 It is the property of John Carpenter, Esq. Mount 
 Tavy is situated about a mile from Tavistock. Kow- 
 
 n2
 
 26S A REMARKABLE STORM. [lET. 
 
 don Wood, now a portion of the estate, is delightful, 
 it lies on the side of the hill, on Avhose summit the 
 house was bviilt some years ago. That wood over- 
 hangs in many places the river Tavy, and forms a 
 beautiful feature in the landscape, (backed by the 
 heights of Dartmoor,) as the traveller passes on 
 towards Hertford Bridge, or Blackdown. On the 
 other side the river, op])Osite to Rowdon, is Park 
 Wood, the residence of Mr. Evans. When the plan- 
 tations that gentleman has so carefully reared shall 
 have attained their full growth, it will be a very sweet 
 spot ; it is nov/ in the most promising state of im- 
 provement. 
 
 Near Park Wood, indeed, separated from it only 
 by a few fields, is the Walla Brook, celebrated by- 
 Browne. The stream comes playing gently down 
 the side of a hill, and passing under a bridge (over 
 which runs the public road) it unites itself with the 
 Tavy opposite the mount so named. Rowdon Wood 
 many years ago was visited by so remarkable a 
 storm, that it must not here be left unnoticed. Tlic 
 following- account of it I extract from IMr. Polwhelc's 
 ' History of Devon.' " The most extraordinary 
 marks of elemental violence in this neighbourhood 
 are noticed by Mr. GuUett. On the 22nd August, 
 1768, about nine in the morning, the wind fresh at 
 west-south-west, a very strange phenomenon hap- 
 pened at a place called Rowdon Wood, about a mile 
 distant from the town of Tavistock. A ])assage, 
 near forty yards wide, was made through this and 
 an adjoining wood, according to the common opinion, 
 by lightning. Whatever it Avas, it tore up vast oaks 
 and flourishing ashes by the roots, lopped the 
 largest limbs of some, twisted and shivered the
 
 XL.] A REMARKABLE STORM. 269 
 
 bodies of others, carried their tops to a considerable 
 distance, and, in short, made such a devastation as a 
 battery of cannon could scarcely have effected. 
 Vi\ad flashes of lio'htnino- had been seen at Tavistock 
 throuo-h the whole mornin<r, and the thunder was 
 loud and violent. Yet I have reason to think that 
 this wreck of the woods was effected by a Avhirlwind. 
 This whirlwind, whose direction was from about 
 west-south-west to east-north-east, discovered itself 
 in the parish of Beerferris, which borders on the 
 Taniar, about six miles south-west of Tavistock. 
 Here it destroyed an orchard by laying the apple 
 trees level with the ground, and proceeded cast- 
 north-east without making its way by any visible 
 traces till it arrived just opposite the town of Tavis- 
 tock, when it shivered a few large trees upon a hill, 
 and damaged a farm-house. Rowdon Wood was the 
 next object of its vengence, when it rolled up the 
 vale of the Tavy, into the forest of Dartmoor, where 
 it had full scope for exhausting itself. A person 
 standing on an eminence in the town of Tavistock 
 saw it, he says, moving over fields and hedges, about 
 the size of a church, till, being intercepted b}- some 
 houses and woods, he lost sight of it. After its 
 devastation in Rowdon and the contiguous wood, it 
 was seen by a farmer in its passage up the vale of 
 Tavy towards Dartmoor. This man, says Mr. Gul- 
 lett, whom I met upon the spot in llowdon Wood, a 
 few hours after the hurricane, informed me that he 
 lived about two miles farther up the \a.\c, in a house 
 situated on the side of a hill. That there was no 
 public road or travelling of any kind near his house ; 
 but that between nine and ten o'clock he and his 
 family hud been alarmed by the noise as if it were 
 of half-a-dozen coaches rolling over the pavement;
 
 270 BEAUTIFUL SCENERY. [lET. 
 
 that they ran out, and saw a large cloud, like a wool- 
 pack, come tumbling- up the vale (with a most 
 frightful noise) and shaking all the hedges and 
 trees over which it passed, as if it would have shi- 
 vered them to atoms. Tlie remote cause of this I 
 conceive to have been lightning, by a very strong 
 explosion of which the air in that spot was so con- 
 siderably rarefied that the surrounding air rushed 
 in like a torrent to fill up the vacuum, forming a body 
 wonderfully condensed, and powerful by its violent 
 agitation, and thus destroyed the equilibrium of 
 the atmosphere. The equilibrium being destroyed, 
 the whirlwind gained strength in proportion to its 
 velocity, rushing on in the manner I have described. 
 In order to ascertain the point whether the lightning 
 had any immediate influence in this singular wreck, 
 1 then narrowly inspected the shivered trees, not 
 one of which was in the least discoloured ; nor covdd 
 I perceive the smell of sulphur, or any other smell, 
 indeed, than that of green wood. Some of the 
 young saplings escaped uninjured amidst this ruin- 
 ous scene ; owing, as I imagine, to their pliability. 
 But what more especially convinces me that this 
 phenomenon was the effect of a whirlwind is, that 
 trees at the distance of forty or fifty feet from each 
 otlier Avere torn up by the roots, and thrown in quite 
 o])positc directions ; so tliat their tops met and were 
 entangled, which can only be accounted for from the 
 whirling of the wind." 
 
 There are two or three rides, in particular, in our 
 neighbourhood, that I would advise all persons who 
 visit Tavistock for the purpose of viewing the scenery 
 on no account to neglect. One of them is to Ward 
 Bi-idge : in order to reach it the traveller must 
 cross Whitchurch Down, pass by Sampford Spiney
 
 XL.] BEAUTIFUL SCENERY. 271 
 
 Cluircli, and continue along the road which leads to a 
 liovise and grounds called Wood Town, the country 
 residence of Mr. Cornish, a gentleman of this place; 
 and a residence it is that might be termed dwelling 
 in Paradise, so beautiful, so truly delightful is the 
 scenery around it. Wood Town is very near Ward 
 Bridy-e. and after winduij'- down a road which re- 
 sembles in steepness the slantingroof of ahouse, the 
 stranger in search of the picturesque finds himself 
 at the foot of the bridge. If he is as fond of wild 
 and fairy-land scenery as I am, he will do as I did ; 
 which was to trespass on jVIr. Cornish's grounds, by 
 e-ettino; over a sort of rouo-h wall of stones, briars, 
 &c., that will at once bring him into a wood which 
 sweeps down the hill side to the margin of the rocky 
 stream : in this wood grow oaks that have seen cen- 
 turies pass over their heads ; and if the traveller 
 who admires this spot should also happen to be ac- 
 quainted with the poetry of Spenser, the scene before 
 his eyes will forcibly remind him of many so ex- 
 qviisitively depicted in the ' Faerie Queene.' But I 
 must not trust myself to talk about Spenser, or I 
 shall never get out of the wood; Spenser, the first 
 poet, excepting Shakspeare, that in my youthful 
 days I ever read ; who inspired me with a love of the 
 beautiful and the wild, and made me live in a fairy 
 world of fancy, the delight and remembrance of 
 which can end but with life itself. The changes of 
 time, the trials of calamit}', and the many melancholy 
 recollections which, more or less, await all in the 
 maturity of life, cannot efface those momentary 
 gleams of delight that break forth as we retrace in 
 memory the strong impressions of our early days ; 
 and if these are connected with poetry and nature.
 
 272 LINES FROM SPENSER. [lET. 
 
 they awaken in the heart feehng-s which preserve in 
 their character the freshness and vivacity of youth, 
 though wc should Knger near the very portals of the 
 tomb. 
 
 There is, too, at Ward Bridge, close to the river, 
 a combination of rocks, moss-grown, and overhung 
 with such aged oaks, that they must have seen the 
 days of the Tudors ; they form, in parts, many a 
 silvan cell, and these afford just such a recess as I 
 can believe Una wovdd have chosen for the place of 
 her repose ; and near one of the old oaks there grew, 
 when I first saw the spot, a bramble that was not 
 very young, bvit exceedingly flourishing ; and I stood 
 and fancied there was before my eyes the very oak 
 and bramble celebrated in the ' Shcpheard's Ca- 
 lender.' 
 
 " There grewe an aged tree on the greene, 
 A goodly oake sometime it had bene, 
 With armes full strong and largely displayed, 
 But of their leaves they were disarayde : 
 The bodie bigi^e, and mightily p'ght, 
 Thoroughly rooted, and of wonderons higlit ; 
 Whilome hiid bene the king of tlie fielde, 
 And raochell mast to the husbande did yielde, 
 And with his iiuts larded many swine ; 
 But now the grey mosse marred his rine ; 
 His bared boughes were beaten with stormes. 
 His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes. 
 His honour decayed, his branches sere. 
 Hard by his side grewe a bragging brere. 
 Which prowdly thrust into th' element. 
 And seemed to threat the firmament: 
 It was embellisht with blossoms fayre, 
 And there to aye wonted to repayre 
 The shepheards' dauj/hters to gather flowers, 
 To painte their girlonds Avith his cobiwres ; 
 And in his small bushes used to shrowde 
 The sweet nightingale singing so lo-.vde ;
 
 XL.] RIDE TO VIXEN TOR. 273 
 
 Which made this foolish hrere wexe so boltl, 
 
 That oil a time hee caste him to scold 
 
 And snebbe the goode o ike, for hee was old." 
 
 And now having visited Ward Bridge *, and tres- 
 passed on Mr. Cornish's grounds fa thing b}- no 
 means to be omitted bv anv one wlio has a f'eehno- for 
 the beautiful), the picturesque traveller must mount 
 again ; and, as the common saying goes, follow his 
 nose, up the rough, steep, and formidable road that 
 lies before him; it will lead him on to Dartmoor, if 
 he likes to go so far. Let liim now give his pony 
 his head, and he v.ill pick his o\ra wa}^ in sucli a 
 path, much better than the rider could do it for him 
 with the bridle. ]My little shaggy Dobb carries me 
 up this hill as quietly as a lamb ; I let the rein 
 hang loose on my arm, and, whilst he paces gently 
 on, amuse myself sometimes in picking the sweet 
 Avild strawberry that grows in the liedges by the 
 side of the narrow way. ]Mr. Bray rides on before, 
 his pony often starting and frisking, and making a 
 gallant show of spirit ; but my Dobb's merit is of a 
 more modest kind, and as he is beginning to grow 
 old, he cares not one jot for appearances. Dobb 
 knows my taste ; for when we come to a certain 
 gate, situated half way up the hill, with a ijosty on 
 either side of it (as the good people call a post in 
 Devonshire), he stops _; because he remembers that I 
 
 * My brother thus speaks of Ward Bridge, in his 'Notices of 
 Tavistock and its Abbey," in the ' Gentleman's Magazine :' — '■ To 
 obtain an idea of a Devonshire stream in all its beauty, the traveller 
 should visit the Wulkham at Ward Bridge, about four miles from 
 Tavistock. At this spot the stream makes its way between thickly- 
 clustering fragments of dark moss-grown rocks, and on the banks 
 contiguous is an eiichaniing little wood, where the oaks are seen 
 flourishing amidst huge masses of granite, covered with mo-s and 
 lichens." 
 
 n3
 
 274 A PICTURESQUE VIEW. [lKT. 
 
 always get oiF at that same gate in order to walk 
 into the field, and enjoy one of the most striking 
 scenes in all the county : yet, such is the peculiarity 
 of this, that I allow no one, who is pleased to take 
 me for a guide, to open that gate, or visit that spot, 
 excepting at sunset. Seen in the broad glare of day, 
 no one would believe it was the same magical view 
 which, when contemplated at sunset, might almost 
 be fancied into a scene raised by some wizard, with 
 a wave of his Avand, for our delight. 
 
 You stand near the gate in a field that runs along 
 the side of a liill ; this hill sweeps down to the river ; 
 and you see the stream winding in the most undu- 
 lating manner, for a considerable distance, through 
 a valley clothed with wood. Hills rise beyond hills ; 
 their forms are peculiarly striking : they are bold and 
 acute, not too much rounded, so as to become lumpy, 
 (a term of censure which has very falsely been 
 applied to our Devonshire heights by one who knew 
 little of them). Beyond these hills, which stand like 
 the side slips of a scene in a theatre, opens a second, 
 or back scene, and that crowns the whole. Part is 
 distinct, part so aerial, so radiant in the glitter of 
 sunshine, so blended with the ultramarine tints of 
 evening, that you see it at one moment as if it were 
 coming into regular forms and distinctness ; and at 
 another it seems to die away and lose itself in aii\ 
 Fronting this extreme distance, however, arises what 
 you would immediately conceive to be a magnificent 
 feudal castle ; towers, and turrets, and flanking 
 walls stand in awful array before you ; and you think 
 of knights, and ladies, and sentinels on the watch 
 post : and wonder who, in these days, can be the 
 lord of such a stronghold as would have suited the
 
 XL.] VIXEN TOR. 275 
 
 rebel barons in the time of King Stephen, or of King 
 John, when they made him consent to sign Magna 
 Charta. But the castle before you, on Avhich the 
 setting sun povu's a flood of light, is much older 
 than King John's days, older even than those of the 
 Saxons ; the last of the Princes of Dunhevid may 
 have held his court there, or, in the worship of his 
 false gods, have there poured forth the cruel liba- 
 tions of human blood, and have acted woVse deeds 
 than did the most ferocious of the old Saxons when 
 they took possession, and made offerings to Frea 
 or Odin in the very heart of the moor. It is Vixen 
 Tor that rises Avith such majesty of aspect, and as- 
 sumes, when seen from this particular spot, a form 
 so completely castellated, that it would deceive the 
 eye of any stranger who, for the first time, looks upon 
 it at the hour of sunset ; for if he goes there at noon- 
 day he will spoil all, and spoil my description, the 
 truth of which I would call on Dobb himself to 
 ANatness, if he had but a tongue for the service of his 
 mistress, for well does he knoAv the scene. Indeed 
 only the last time we Adsited the field, Dobb, getting 
 loose from the gate-post to which he had been tied 
 up, walked in after me, and very unceremoniously 
 rubbed his nose on mv shoulder, no doubt to let me 
 know how much he admired the view. But Dobb 
 (who has as quick an understanding for the road 
 home as any christian, and is very fond of turning 
 thither, if you feel disposed to let him take his own 
 way) was not so soon to be indulged on this memo- 
 rable evening. 
 
 Up we mounted again; I now led the van; Mr. 
 Bray formed the main body, and our John, as usual, 
 brought up the reai', though at a distance rather
 
 276 JOURKEY TO THE MOOR. [lKT. 
 
 more than customary : probably the distance was on 
 this occasion chosen, not in order to take a nap, as 
 he sometimes does when riding- after his master, but 
 to solace himself vrith a little harmony ; for I soon 
 heard John, in a truly sentimental style, singing, 
 sotto voce, " O ! no, we never mention her," in a 
 most dolorous key, every note of which was out of 
 tune ; for, though our John is a cheerful honest soul, 
 somehow or other, possibly from defect of ear, he 
 always sings in the minor : and as he is exceed- 
 ingly fond of music, it is the more remarkable. 
 
 As we advanced, we found the wild and romantic 
 scenery which surrounded us on every side was 
 scarcely English in its character, and far more like 
 that described by Sir Walter Scott as peculiar to 
 the Highlands. 
 
 I am very sorr}' that I have no adventures to 
 record in our navigation among the rocks to enliven 
 this letter as we journey on towards the moor ; but, 
 excepting a country lad, we really met nobody but 
 a couple of old women ; one of them, dressed in a 
 red cloak, and carrying a bundle of sticks on her 
 shoulder, reminded me of Otway's Hag, v.ith " age 
 grown double :" so fierce and ill-humoured an ex- 
 pression I never belicld in any one of the peasantry 
 in Devonshire, old or vouno- ; had she lived in the 
 davs of Avitch-lmnting, her face might have endan- 
 gered her life; Lavater would have read a lecture 
 on such a physiognomy. Presently we met a man 
 driving that truly moorland burthen, a horse laden 
 with a crook piled with peat. A brood of pigs ^'as 
 our John, in the truly Devonian phrase, called 
 them) we set ilying, as they were grunting and en- 
 joying themselves in a puddle in the middle of the
 
 XL.] THE PASS. 277 
 
 road ; and lastly, John killed an adder that was very 
 large, as he was sunning- himself in one of the nar- 
 row lanes, and which, by certain marks (red rings, 
 I think,) about the head, he pronounced to be the 
 most venomous of its kind. 
 
 At length we came to what ]SIr. Bray, who is very 
 fond of naming every striking place in our excursions, 
 has been pleased to call the Pass, at the entrance of 
 the moor from this road. Certainly giving names is 
 a part of his vocation, and some hundred years 
 hence, I expect, many a rock designated by him, 
 and possibly this of the Pass, may find its way into 
 the maps; for names, like everything else, must have 
 a beginning. And, as I have some ambition to be 
 immortalized myself, especially in this covmtrv, on 
 which, I may say, I have bestowed some pains, I do 
 hope that a certain druidical basin at Over Tor (or 
 Overturned Tor) on the moor, in which I once 
 washed my hands, may, out of respect to my memory, 
 bear for ever and a day the very elegant name Mr. 
 Bray bestowed upon it, that of " Mrs. Bray's wash- 
 hand l)asin."' I had also the honour of discovering 
 it, being the only Druidical vestige, save one, I ever 
 found out on the moor to add to the number of its 
 antiquities. The Pass, tov.'ards which we are pro- 
 ceeding, is nothing more than what a pass ought to 
 be ; there is space enough for the traveller to go 
 throuo-h between two enormous and fantastic-look- 
 ing rocks, that stand on either side the way, and 
 were once, no doubt, joined together as closely as 
 the Siamese twins, till the powers below gave the old 
 earth a good shaking, and sent them asunder. 
 Dobb clears the pass, and finding no temptation to 
 loiter on the road, vthich he sometimes docs, if a httle
 
 278 THE cuRsus. [let. 
 
 inviting grass catches his eye, we soon enter on the 
 moor ; and the road we are now upon leads us to 
 what the Devonians call the Back-see-fore-see * side 
 of Vixen Tor, where the mass of rocks (for this tor 
 consists of three contiguous masses) rise one hun- 
 dred and ten feet above the surface with an air of 
 insulated grandeur, in the midst of an elevated 
 space of ground, where all beyond its immediate 
 vicinity is tors, or hills, or broken fragments of gra- 
 nite; but there is no object to interpose and lessen, 
 by a too close opposition in magnitude, the imposing 
 aspect of this sphinx of the moor. But I have so 
 often talked of Vixen Tor, that I will here say no 
 more about it, and one of these days I hope you 
 may see it yourself. 
 
 You may now, if you please, ride thence to the 
 grand Cursus, (grand in length, but diminutive in 
 height,) and turning into the road near Merrivale 
 bridge, all that remains may be left to the ponies ; 
 for no sooner do they once find that they are on the 
 road home, than they prick up their ears, and set 
 off, each emulous to be the foremost ; and John, who 
 rides the most spirited of all, has sometimes hard 
 work to keep it from bolting ; and, if it did so, 
 he would not be very likely to meet Avith any one 
 on the dreary moor who could succeed in stopping a 
 runaway pony in the very remarkable manner I 
 once saw Sir William Trelawny (the present mem- 
 ber for Cornwall) stop a horse that bolted with 
 the jockey. It carried him twice or thrice round the 
 race-course, to the terror of all the spectators, who 
 
 * On inquiring^ of a Devonian {gentleman, born and bred, what 
 lliis term could possibly mean, he told me it meant " Ike back part of 
 the other front." Surely Ireland is not the only laud of bulls.
 
 XL.] THE TAMAR. 279 
 
 expected the high- spirited animal woidd run till he 
 dropped, and that the lad, who was calling out for 
 help, and wliosc hands were dreadfully cvit in pulling 
 the bridle, would be killed. Sir William Trelawny 
 saw the boy's danger, crossed the ground, rode up, 
 and caught the flpng racer by the tail : thus checked, 
 and probably surprised by the novelty of such a 
 check, the creature was instantly stopped, and the 
 boy Avas safe. This circumstance occurred at the 
 TaAdstock races, on V/hitchurch Down, in the summer 
 of 1830. 
 
 Another of our beautiful rides is from this town 
 to the Tamar, near New Bridge ; and there, before 
 you come to the bridge, turn off on the left hand 
 and pass through a gate, this will lead you down 
 towards a road which runs along (and partly through 
 the most delightful woods) close to the banks of the 
 Tamar. The rocks of Morwel, still on the left, 
 tower above your head, and after passing under them 
 and through a succession of scenery, of which I give 
 no minute description, because it Avould fill pages to 
 do it anything like justice, you wind up a steep ascent 
 (near the wear-head) and pass under the shadow of 
 some of the loftiest trees I ever saw, and meet on your 
 way a beautiful silver stream that comes tumbling 
 down and continues its course till it falls into the 
 Tamar below ; and you hear, also, the rush of un- 
 seen waters — a circumstance that always produces so 
 much effect on the mind in the midst of a v>'ood. On 
 you go, through scenes that are really enchanting, 
 till you turn into the new road. This was, but a 
 very few years since, cut imdcr the immediate di- 
 rection and at the expense of the Duke of Bedford ; 
 and this act of munificence has afforded to the public
 
 230 DUKE OF bkdford's road. [li-t. 
 
 at large so much delig-ht, and thrown open to them 
 such a o:lorious ride through scenes of ahnost match- 
 less o^randeur and beauty m their hind, that it deserves 
 the most honourable mention. The Duke"s Road 
 leads you over the summits of all the fearful rocks 
 and precipices of ]Morwel ; but the}- are only fearful 
 in appearance, for the road itself is perfectly safe, 
 and none but nervous or timid people think of get- 
 ting oif their horses as they pass it. After riding on 
 for some distance, you come to a small wood of dwarf 
 oaks ; vou enter it ; pass along the little path on foot, 
 and fmaliv step out on what you have come all tliis 
 way principally to see — ^lorwel Rock. This is all I 
 shall sav of it, having already described it at large ; 
 for it was this very rock which I chose on account of its 
 beautv, and its extraordinary character, as the scene 
 for the interview in my novel between old Sir Hugh 
 Fitz and Georore Stanwich. I have only one obser- 
 vation to make here respecting it, that Morwel Rock, 
 though truly it is a magnificent object, has no right 
 alone to engross the name, since all the rocks around 
 it arc likewise those of Morwel, and several are quite 
 as beautiful as this ; but its having been considered 
 the greatest lion of its neighbourhood for so many 
 years, the good folks who are accustomed to go 
 thither in the summer months to boil their tea- 
 kettles, will not be prevailed with to think it can 
 have a rival, far less an equal. The whole scene, 
 from that rock to the end of the Duke's Road, 
 affords a succession of the noblest objects that can 
 be witnessed in thi.s, or perhaps in any other county 
 in England ; always excepting the Lakes, which I 
 have not seen, but which, from drav.ings and engrav- 
 ings, I know arc on a more lofty scale of magnificence.
 
 XL.] endsleigh's cottage. 281 
 
 The Duke of Bedford has an elegant house, 
 called a cottage, at Endslcigh. The ride thither, 
 through Blanche-down Wood (though that is a far- 
 about track) is indeed so delightful, that all persons 
 Avho would wish to approach near the cottage with 
 most advantage, to enjoy the scenery, ought to go 
 that way. I do not attempt any minute description 
 of Endsleigh ; many of its most beautiful views have 
 been more than once drawn and engraved; and 
 strangers from all parts of tlie country come to see 
 it. There is a dell, called the Dairy Dell, watered 
 by a running stream, that is of a most pleasing cha- 
 racter; the Swiss Cottage is ver}' pretty, so is the 
 view fi-om the terrace, Avhich at sun-set appears to 
 the greatest perfection ; and the house exhibits 
 much of comfort, combined with g-ood taste, in its 
 decorations. I once heard the Duke of Bedford 
 say, that he had cut rides to the extent of 
 fortv miles in his domain of Endsleiirh. Those I 
 have seen, especially through Blanche-down, m.crit 
 the attention of the traveller, and will well repay 
 him for the trouble of finding them out. I remem- 
 ber one spot in particvdar, not far from Newbridge, 
 that might trulv be called Switzerland on a minia- 
 ture scale. You ride througli a wood, where the 
 birds are so little molested, that I saw pheasants, 
 woodpeckers, and birds of every description, amus- 
 ing themselves by flying from bough to bovigli, in a 
 manner that showed them to be very tame, or fear- 
 less of the approach of a human being. Their 
 haunts seem, indeed, to be undisturbed. Below, the 
 Tamar ran with great ra])idity, foaming over the 
 blackest rocks: — on the opposite .side the river, a
 
 2S2 PETER TAW. [let, 
 
 steep liill, covered with crag-s of granite of a grepsh 
 hue, had, starting from between them, a vast num- 
 ber of young iirs, lately planted : altogether the 
 river, the heights, the granite, and the firs, formed 
 a scene of a character so peculiar, that I never re- 
 collect having: seen one of a similar nature in Eng- 
 land. Mr. Bray agreed yviih me in opinion that it 
 might truly be called Swiss : but when the young 
 firs shall have attained their full growth, the rocks 
 will be hidden, and the peculiarity of the scene 
 alas ! destroyed. 
 
 Denhara Bridge is another of our delightful rides, 
 but the finest parts of its vicinity are diflRcult of 
 access. j\Iy nephew went thither on a fishing ex- 
 cursion, up the ri^er or down it, I do not know 
 Avhich : sometimes he waded ancle deep in the 
 water ; but he thought little of such difficulties in 
 his progress, as he declared, on his return, that 
 he had never witnessed any scenery that excelled 
 wliat he had that day passed through in his ex- 
 cursion. 
 
 The village of Peter Tavy is another point of at- 
 traction in this neighbourhood. Close to it is a 
 narrow glen or valley, called the Coombe, but which 
 I have ventured to name the Valley of Waterfalls ; 
 on account of the vast number of small, but exqui- 
 sitely beautiful falls there seen. All the artists 
 who have liitherto visited Peter Tavy, and we have 
 guided many thither, declare it to be an unrivalled 
 village in the A'ariety of beauties it affords as stu- 
 dies for the painter. A mill there, the property of 
 ^Ir. Bray, has been drawn and painted over and 
 over again, has been hung in Somerset House, and
 
 XL.] THE COOMBE. 283 
 
 the Water-colour Exhibition, and was never yet 
 returned unsold on the hands of an artist*. The 
 subject it affords is slriking-ly characteristic. — A 
 rush of water turns the wheel, and forms a cascade 
 that falls into a rapid moiuitain stream (which rises 
 near, and comes down the Coombe) as clear as the 
 brightest crystal ; the thatched gable of the mill is 
 covered with ivy ; a little bridge crosses the stream 
 opposite the cottage door, and as you stand on this 
 you see the crystal waters come pouring down a 
 shelvino' and rocky channel in a manner that the 
 pencil alone could pourtray. Above your head wave 
 the branches of some aged and picturesque firs, and 
 if you turn towards the Aillage, the cottages are 
 seen in pretty clusters amidst the trees, and the 
 beautiful tower, with its Gothic pinnacles, finishes a 
 scene that is of such peculiar interest, the eye is 
 never weary in looking on it though seen a thousand 
 times before. Near the mill cottage the children 
 assemble in groups : and ponies, donkies, pigs, and 
 cocks and hens, are all found there, forming the most 
 animated accompaniments that a Morland or a Wil- 
 kie would have desired to complete the picture of 
 rustic life. 
 
 Mr. Harding made an oil painting of some cot- 
 tages just above the entrance to the Coombe; he 
 was rather unfortunate in his visit to the latter spot ; 
 for chancing to come hither during the long drought 
 of 1820, there was so little water in the rivers and 
 streams, that he lost the sight of them in all their 
 
 * The mill has been drawn hy Mr. Lewis and his son more than 
 once, by Mr. Harding, Miss Kemjie, Mr. R. Stothard, Mr. Hitchins, 
 Mr. Kempe, Mr. Bray, and lastly by Miss Taylor (now Mrs.Worsley), 
 a lady whose talents are of so high an order, that she justly deserves 
 to be ranked with the best water-colour artists of this age.
 
 284 RURAL SCENES. [lET. 
 
 beauty. Miss Taylor was more fortunate ; we car- 
 ried her to the Coombe when it was exactly in the 
 state to please an artist ; she was indeed delighted 
 with it, and thought it richly- merited the name I 
 had given to it of the Valley of Waterfalls. It is 
 not only the wild and striking manner in which the 
 stream rushes down over the thousand masses of 
 rock, that forms the interest of this spot — the sur- 
 rounding heights are rocky and broken, and afford 
 and endless diversity of views, with Brent Tor rising 
 from the midst of an elevated plain, as the finishing 
 and prominent object in the distance. Had Claude 
 composed the landscape (as he often did in his pic- 
 tures, by putting together select portions sketched 
 from nature), he would have put Brent Tor just 
 where it stands and no where else. 
 
 Peter Tavy is amusing on account of the living 
 groups witli which it teems. Such a place it is for 
 children, that it would alarm the admirers of Mr. 
 Malthus's system, could they but see the infantine 
 race who grow up in health, cheerfulness, and po- 
 verty, in absobite contradiction to the wisdom of 
 that " eminent philosopher,"' and render Peter Tavy 
 one of the most joyous villages under the svm. You 
 may see the little things of a summer afternoon, not 
 overburthened with clothes, sometimes ragged, and 
 Avith neither bonnet nor cap to confine a profusion 
 of flaxen hair, as fat and as rosy as young cupids, 
 dabbling in the water like ducks ; or tumbling over 
 the rocks, and no liarm done, and floating their tiny 
 boats down the current of the stream, as careless 
 and as happy, as if a political economist had never 
 issued an edict against their existence. Here you 
 may (hid a child of seven or eight years old nursing
 
 XL.] RURAL SCENES. 2S5 
 
 a baby ahnost as big as herself, and deriving- con- 
 sequence from the occupation, playing the woman 
 over the other children, or calling out to some one 
 of them by the name of little girl (as one child is 
 very fond of calling another), desiring her to keep 
 out of the water, and not to dirt her pinafore in 
 making mud pies. The elder boys are engaged 
 with their kites, or their more active games, whilst a 
 group of little fellows amuse themselves with piling 
 up loose stones, and making baby walls in imitation 
 of those of granite, called hedges, on the borders of 
 Dartmoor. In Peter Tavy, too, may be seen "the 
 spinners and knitters in the sun ; " and the very 
 old and the very young are often seen together side 
 by side ; and girls with their pitchers ;Slling them 
 with water from the little channels and rivulets that 
 abound throughout the village. These present 
 pictures that are of endless variety and interest 
 to all who delight in the scenes of rural life. 
 
 The school-house displays, too, a large assembly 
 of the rising generation ; it stands near the church : 
 the tower and pinnacles of the latter form a beauti- 
 ful point in the surrounding landscape, from Avhat- 
 cver dii'ection it may be viewed. The churchyard 
 is on all sides surrounded by a number of large old 
 lime trees, that cast a sombre shadow around, quite 
 in harmony with the spot consecrated to the repose 
 of the dead. Near Peter Tavy is Cudlipp Town, 
 of which Mr. Bray is lord of the manor. It is of a 
 character similar to the scenery about Peter Tav}^, 
 and has plenty of Avater and rocks. Cudlipp Town is 
 the place about which there were so many deflates 
 in parliament in the sessions of 1832, when it v.as 
 thought proper to cut out that extensive manor
 
 286 MARY TAVY ROCK. [lET. 
 
 from the parish of Tavistock^, so that the new fran- 
 chise, under the Eeform Bill then about to pass, 
 should not be extended to the tenants there resid- 
 ing. This exclusion, thoug-h the debates it occa- 
 sioned were known to all the kingdom, Mr. Bray, 
 from circumstances not worth detailing, did not 
 know till it was too late to petition to obtain for his 
 Cudlipp Town tenantry the same privileges as the 
 rest of the parishioners were about to receive. 
 
 The last time we visited Peter Tavy in company 
 with some friends, we followed a lane that runs from 
 the church towards Mary Tavy ; and whilst going 
 along, we remarked that these villages were so 
 called from the virgin and saint to which the 
 churches were dedicated. Mr. Bray told us a 
 story about a judge, Avho, on a trial being held 
 concerniiig some land in these parishes, confounded 
 tljc names of the villages with those of the wit- 
 nesses ; and gave an order for Peter and jMary Tavy 
 to be summoned into court. After following this 
 long, narrow, and muddy lane, we at length came 
 to a gate, which we opened, and stood on the brow 
 of a hill. A beautiful sight here burst upon us. 
 Below rolled the Tavy, under cliffs and crags, not 
 of a very lofty but of a most pleasing character; 
 and in the midst of the greensward, on this side 
 the river from its banks, arose an insulated and 
 enormous mass, called Mary Tavy Rock, covered with 
 ivy, lichens, and every sort of rock plant that can, 
 I believe, be found in Devon. Passing this mass *, 
 
 * Whilst this letter was passing through the press, Mr. Lewis, the 
 elder, has again visited Tavistock, and made a beautiful sketch of 
 this sci-ne. He declares this vicinity to be unique in beauty and in 
 bubjetts for an artist.
 
 XL.] TAVY CLEEVE. 287 
 
 Avliich, Mr. Harding said, would in itself furnish 
 many subjects for a painter, we followed the river 
 to one of those light wooden bridges, called clams. 
 This, near Tvlar}^ Tavy, is a great height above the 
 stream, which, as usual, tumbles over vast portions 
 of broken rock, and no where in greater beauty than 
 near this clam. We continued our walk, still on the 
 banks of the Tav}', but meeting it as it comes rapid 
 and foaming from the moor. Sometimes the path, 
 which was rough, led us close to the water; at 
 others it carried us up the banks, and along rocks, 
 till at length we had to scale one which intercepted 
 our progress like a wall, and tlien Ave had to climb 
 up a steep liill, verv near the river, that was beauti- 
 fullv diversified with forest trees. We next per- 
 ceived, on the opposite side, a line of cliffs that rose 
 to a considerable height, partially grown witli wood, 
 where there was any soil on their surface, and the 
 whole backed by elevated lands, and the never-fail- 
 ing crest of all the views in this quarter — Brent 
 Tor, with its little church perched high in the air. 
 
 From this spot, as far as to Tavy Cleeve and 
 
 Rattle Brook, the views are as varied as tliey are 
 
 wild and beautiful ; and I would recommend every 
 
 traveller who comes hither to see our scenery, to find 
 
 his road out to Peter Tavy, crossing Hertford bridge 
 
 in his way, which is in itself worth seeing, thence to 
 
 continue on as far as Mr. Braj's mill in Peter Tavy, 
 
 to ramble to the Coombe. return back through the 
 
 Shellnnds (a parcel of land near the mill whose name 
 
 reminds one of the Scotch word Sheeling), and then 
 
 if he can get any little boy to become his guide (and 
 
 sixpence, I dare say, will procure him that advan- 
 
 taofc), he may iro on to Mary Tavy Hock, the Clam, 
 
 &c. ; and if he be a good walker, and has another
 
 2S8 MASON THE FREEBOOTER. [lET. 
 
 sixpence to spare his guide, he may proceed to Cud- 
 lipp town and Hill bridge ; and so he will have seen 
 all the sights in that quarter in one round. And 
 when he gets to Cudlipp town, and asks where the 
 toivn may be, let him understand that a Devonshire 
 one is not made up of number, as it sometimes 
 consists of a single house, or two or three cottages, 
 for here Ave never rate quantity in such matters. I 
 once was directed to a town which, when I arrived 
 there, I found to consist of two pig-sties and a mud 
 hut ; yet town it was, and will be so called through 
 successive generations. 
 
 And now, having pointed out many of the most 
 interesting scenes in our neighbourhood, I shall 
 conchide this letter with the relation of a remarkable 
 circumstance or two connected with them ; at least 
 the first may be unquestionably considered under 
 that head. 
 
 Our friend Mr. Evans, of Park Wood, the other 
 day told me the particulars of a story about a ruffian 
 who, some fifty years ago, concealed liimself in a 
 wood on the banks of the Tamar. Plis name was 
 Nicholas Mason. What might have been his mo- 
 tive, as he was the son of I'espectable parents, to 
 adopt the trade of a bandit I do not know. But he 
 succeeded in terrifying and laying such heavy con- 
 tributions on the neighbourhood by his nightly 
 depredations, that the farmers and gentlemen at 
 length combined to rout him out. This freebooter 
 was as light of foot as he was of hand ; and one of his 
 j»ractices Avas to get into farm-houses by descending, 
 with the utmost care, the chimneys during the time 
 the families were at rest. His spoils he placed in a 
 bag, and managed to make his retreat in the same 
 dark and strange manner. For some time liis mode
 
 XL.] MASON THE FREEBOOTER. 289 
 
 of action was not suspected, as in the morning all 
 the doors were found locked, just as they \Yere on the 
 previous night, and no signs of violence appeared. 
 The good people, thus robbid, were puzzled what 
 to think, and as a bad character is a very bad thing, 
 the devil being the father of thieving as well as of 
 lying, obtained the credit of achieving in his own 
 person what were in fact but the acts of one of his 
 sons. However, as the robber, grown bold by suc- 
 cess, at length ventvu'ed on hen-roosts and the first- 
 lings of the flock, human agency was suspected to 
 have some concern in the matter. 
 
 The robber vv^as at len"th discovered to have se- 
 creted himself in a cave, situated in a thick wood 
 near the Tamar. The discovery was made by a 
 honnd cpiarrelling with a brother hound for some 
 bones that were scattered near the entrance of 
 Masons den. The squire and huntsmen were led 
 to suspect, from this circumstance, that tliey had 
 found ovit the hiding place of the thief; and having 
 dexterously concerted their measures, so as not to 
 give him any pre\nous alarm, they called in the as- 
 sistance of some sturdy |)loughmen who were work- 
 ing not very far from the spot. The attack com- 
 menced, and the robber, like a hare, got the start of 
 his pursuers ; for huntsmen, hounds, and peasants 
 were all after him. Suddenly he was espied in a 
 thicket of heath and furze, xinder the brow^ of a pre- 
 cipice, as he was seeking concealment among the 
 adjacent rocks. From this strong hold he was 
 speedily hurled by a bold peasant armed with a 
 pitchfork, who managed to crawl up the cliff after 
 him, tliough not without danger, as Mason snapped 
 a pistol at him, which providentially missed fire, 
 VOL. Ill, o
 
 290 MASON THE FREEBOOTER. [l.ET. 
 
 He was at length taken, 3'et not till the huntsmen 
 ancL clogs, that had unkennelled him, were again 
 oblio-cd to follow in chase, so fleet was he of foot, so 
 quick in doubling, and so intimately acquainted 
 with the place in all its nooks, windings, and wa3's of 
 retreat. On being taken he displayed a temper of 
 the most ferocious daring, told the two gentlemen 
 who had been the principal hunters that he regretted 
 they had escaped him, and assured them they owed 
 their safety to their not having caught his eye in time 
 to put his fire-arms in proper order to shoot them. 
 
 The party next examined the cave ; the ruffian 
 had there collected every sort of necessary for his 
 own accommodation : there was a pan of milk (for 
 he used to milk the farmers' cows long before day- 
 light) scalding over the embers of a wood fire ; a 
 fat sheep that he had stolen, and was skinning at the 
 moment of the discovery, hung on the side of the 
 cave, and all sorts of stolen goods were there amassed 
 in regular order. These were removed, as the whole 
 party, with shouts of trivunph, bore along their cap- 
 tive to under o-o the examination of the magistrates 
 in full assembly. His father and mother, poor but 
 honest people (to Avhom he had always been a tor- 
 ment from his earliest days), showed the utmost 
 sorrow for his miscral)le condition, and felt that 
 shame for him which he did not feel for himself 
 Such was the terror this man had inspired, that 
 though he was in custody, and about to stand his 
 trial, many of tbe poor country people feared to 
 swear to their own property found in the cave ; one 
 woman, however, deposed to a shirt as belonging to 
 her husband ; she swore to tlie work being her own, 
 said she could not be mistaken, for she was left-
 
 XL.] THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. 291 
 
 handed. Other witnesses at length came forward, 
 and Mason was convicted and hanged. The wood 
 in which he had secreted himself is situated near 
 Cartha Martha rocks ; it is called Dunterwood. 
 
 After gratefull}- thanking you for the honour you 
 have conferred on me in allowing me, for so long a 
 period, the pleasure of your correspondence, and of 
 receiving, in the kindest manner, such information 
 as I have been able to convey to you concerning the 
 history, &c. of the vicinities of the Tavy and the 
 Tamar, I was about to close these letters, and for the 
 present to take my leave, when a volume I had never 
 before seen was put into my hands. It was the 
 ' Historic Collections, relating to the Monasteries of 
 Devon,' by the Rev. George Oliver, of Exeter. 
 Mr. Oliver is known as a learned antiquary, and a 
 most worthy man, one universally respected. He is 
 the minister of the Roman Catholic chapel in that 
 city. 
 
 I found in his book some most ciu'ious matter 
 relating to the Abbey of Tavistock, which he had 
 principally collected from those uncpicstionable au- 
 thorities, ' The Rcyisfers of the Bishops at Exeter.'' 
 To omit such notices as this historians work have 
 placed within my reach Avould render these letters 
 incomplete ; to abridge them would be unjust to 
 Mr. Oliver and to the subject : I venture, therefore, 
 to give entire the following extracts respecting 
 
 "THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. 
 
 "1st. Aimer, who is described in the Cartulary of 
 
 the Abbey as a good scholar, and exemplary for his 
 
 piety to God and charity to man. He was doomed 
 
 to witness the utter destruction of his monastery by 
 
 o2
 
 292 THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 the Danish invaders. How long he survived this 
 catastrophe is uncertain. 
 
 " 2nd. Lkhujus. He was originally a monk of St. 
 Swithen's Monastery at Winchester. His bene- 
 factions and services to Tavistock Abbey entitle him 
 to the name of its second founder. ' Per Ordg-arum 
 surgendi exordium, per Livingum Episcopum cre- 
 scendi accepit auspicium. — Wil. Malmes.' In 1032 
 he was promoted to the See of Crediton. On the 
 death of his uncle Brithwold, the Bishop of Com- 
 ivall, he succeeded in uniting that diocese in per- 
 petuity to his own see. In 1038 King Harold 
 appointed him to the Bishopric of Worcester, which 
 he continued to hold, with Crediton, until his death, 
 on Sunday, 23rd March, 104(3. He was buried at 
 Tavistock. 
 
 " 3rd. Aldrcd, a monk of Winchester, suc- 
 ceeded Livingus, first as Abbot of Tavistock, 
 and secondly as Bishop of Worcester. In 
 1060, he was translated to York, where he sat 
 imtil his cleatli, on 11th Septembei*, 1069. 
 
 "4th. Sisfricus, who died in the Spring of 1082. 
 
 "5th. Ga?(/)ecZ /., who died in 1088. 
 
 "6th. IVymond. He was deposed by St. Anselm 
 for simony, in 1 102. — See ' Eadmeri Hist.,' fol. 67. 
 
 " 7th. Oshert was abbot in 1 109 *. 
 
 "8th. Gaufred II. was the next abbot. 
 
 "9th. Robert de Plijmpfon, who is supposed 
 to have died in 1145. 
 
 " 10th. Robert Postett, who was abbot nine years. 
 
 " 11th. H alter, who is said to have died in 1174. 
 
 * Woregiut thu very jijiine and iinj)uife(.-t acciiuiit of the followinij 
 abbots until the accession of Philip Trenthefiil in 1259, when we take 
 for our f^uide the Registers uf the Exeter Bishops.
 
 XL.] THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. 293 
 
 " 12tli. Baldwin. 
 
 "13th. Stephen. 
 
 " 14th. Herbert. To this abbot Pope Ce- 
 Icstine II. addressed a bull of privileges, on 
 29th May, (See ' 2 Regist. Vesey,' fol. 41.) 1193. 
 
 " 15th. Jordan was appointed, I believe, in 1204. 
 
 " 16th. fVUliam de Kernit, Prior of Otterton, 
 was elected Jordan's successor in 1220. He held 
 his dignity four years. 
 
 " 17th. John. 
 
 "18th. Alan de Cornwall, who died in 1248. 
 
 " 19th. Robert de Kitecnol. 
 
 "20th. Thomas, who died in 1257. 
 
 "21st. John de Northampton, who presided during 
 two years. 
 
 "22nd. Philip Trentheful, a monlc of St. Swithin's 
 Monastery, at Winchester, was confirmed the next 
 abbot, in October, 1259. He made his profession 
 to Bishop Broncscombe, in the following words : — 
 Vid. Regist. fol. 8. 'Ego frater Philippus, electus 
 Abbas Ecclesie de Tavistock, promitto tibi. Pater 
 Dne Waltere Exon Epe, tuisque successoribvis ca- 
 nonice intronizandis et Sancte Exoniensis Ecclesie, 
 fidem et canonicam per omnia subjcctionem.' 
 
 "23rd. Aliired, confirmed abbot on the 29th 
 Sept. 12G0. 
 
 "N.B. Fecit profcssionem quam obtulit super 
 principale Altarc. — ' Regist. Bronescombe.' 
 
 "24th. John Chubb succeeded, but was de- 
 posed by Bishop Bronescombe, in crastino 
 Sancti Edmundi Regis et Martyris, (21st 
 Nov.) ^ 1269. 
 
 " The bishop describes him as ' Monastcrii bono- 
 rum dilapidator intolerabilis et nianifestus,' repro-
 
 294 THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 bates his scandalous neglect of religious discipline, 
 and enumerates instances of his savage violence and 
 even sacrilege. 
 
 "25th. Robert, who was substituted in the 
 place o^ John Chuhhe, on Palm Sunday, 1270. 
 
 "26th. Robert Champeaux, aliter Campbell, 
 succeeded in 1 278. 
 
 " This abbot is highly commended for his tender 
 piety and zeal for improvement. During his govern- 
 ment several parts of the Abbey were rebuilt, but 
 jDarticularly the conventual church, which is said to 
 have been three hundred and seventy-eight feet 
 long without including the Lady's Chapel. Bishop 
 Stapeldon dedicated this noble church, and two 
 altars in the nave, on the 21st of Aug. 1318. It 
 was finally taken down in 1670. 
 
 " On the 21st of May, the same year, the bishop 
 had dedicated St. Eustachius' pari.sh church at 
 Tavistock, which adjoined to the Abbey inclosure. 
 
 " This amiable and benevolent abbot, with the 
 consent of his convent, a. d. 1291, appropriated for 
 ever the whole profits arising from an estate called 
 Westlydeton (granted two years before to his Ab- 
 bey by Sir Odo Le Arcedeakne), to the providing 
 of the poor with clothes and shoes ; the annual dis- 
 tribution of which Avas made in the cloisters on the 
 second of November, the commemoration of all 
 the Faithful departed. 
 
 "In consequence of tliis ablet's petition, Bishop 
 Stapledon approved and confirmed a perpetual 
 chantry to be erected in the parish church of M hite- 
 church, near Tavistock, for four priests, who should 
 be bound to celebrate the daily and nightly office, 
 together with the service of the dead : to say three.
 
 XL.] THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. 295 
 
 or at least two reqinem masses every day, besides 
 one of ovir Lady. In their suffrages they were to 
 pray for the prosperity of the said abbot and con- 
 vent ; for King' Edward II. and his Queen Isabella ; 
 for the bishop, dean, and chapter of Exeter, and 
 for the founders and benefactors of Tavistock Ab- 
 bey. The superior of these priests was to be called 
 the arch-priest ; he was to live in common with 
 them, and they were to be called his socii or fellows. 
 He was also to be charged with the care of the pa- 
 rishioners : \id. Stapeldon s Regist. fol. 16.5. 
 
 "N.B. The famous charter, ' De Libertatibus Co- 
 mitatus Devon,' gi-anted by King John, and its con- 
 firmation by his son Henry III., were preserved in 
 TaAastock Abbev. Bishop Stapeldon took copies of 
 these originals, and has inserted them in fol. 152 of 
 his re2:ister. 
 
 ''■22nd. Robert Bonus, indncted 13th June, 
 on the recommendation of Pope John XXII. 1328. 
 
 " N.B. Bishop Grandison deposed this 
 abbot for contumacy and intemperate be- 
 haviour, 21th of October, 1333. 
 
 " 23rd. John de Courtenay, substituted for 
 Eobcrt, 2-lth of April, l?34. 
 
 "N.B. This abbot had very little of the spirit of 
 a religious man. He was passionately fond of field 
 sports, was very conceited and foppish in his dress, 
 and a most incurable spendthrift. During his govern- 
 ment discipline seems to have been banished from 
 the convent. Frequently but two of the community 
 were present at the regular meals in the refectory, 
 whilst the rest were feasting sumptuously in their 
 private chambers. From the neglect of repairs the
 
 296 THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 monastery was falling into a dilapidated state, and, 
 moreover, Avas overcharged with debts. ' Monas- 
 terium quod solebat abundare divitiis et honore, 
 crat et est oneribus debitorum usque at mccc. libras 
 sterlingorum et aliorum multiplicium onerum sar- 
 cina prcgavatum." Vide 1st Regist., Grandison, 
 fo. 134. 
 
 "2yth. Richard de Esse succeeded in 134S. 
 
 "oOth. Stephen Langdon succeeded in 1362. 
 
 "31st. Thomas Call ij)ig, confirmed as abbot 
 on the 12th of February, 1380-1. 
 
 " I believe this abbot finished the campanile of 
 the church, begun by his predecessor. He died 
 Jvme 11th. 
 
 " 32nd. John May, confirmed as his succes- 
 sor, 30th July, 1402. 
 He died 7th February, 1421-2. 
 
 " 33rd. Thomas Mede, elected 26th March, 
 and confirmed by Bishop Lacy, 19th April, 1422. 
 
 "N.B. This abbot is accused of neglecting re- 
 gular discipline, of enormous dilapidations, and 
 of simony; but the charge appears to be exag- 
 gerated. 
 
 "34th Thomas Cry spyn, elected llih Jxine, 1442. 
 His death happened 5th April, 1447. 
 
 "35th. Wdiiam Pewe, elected 2d May ; con- 
 firmed abbot 23d of that month, and died 26th 
 December, 1450. 
 
 "36th. ,/ohn Dynynton was elected to succeed 
 William on the 17th of the following January, and 
 was confirmed by Bishop Lacy 20th February. 
 
 " N.B. It appears from 2, 'llymer's Foedera,' p. 
 40B, that this abbot obtained a papal grant to use the
 
 XL.] THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. 297 
 
 pontificals, and to g-ive the episcopal benediction at 
 mass and at table. 
 
 " 37tli. Richard, whose institution is not recorded 
 in the 'Register.' 
 
 " 3Sth. Richard Yerne. I can find no date of his 
 confirmation. 
 
 "Richard Banham: the date of whose election 
 or confirmation I have not succeeded in discovering. 
 King Henry VIII. created him a mitred abbot 22d 
 Jaiiuary, 1513. It may be observed here that these 
 parliamentary abbots ranked among themselves in 
 the upper house according to seniority of creation. 
 The contest which this Abbot maintained with 
 Bishop Oldham has been variously related ; but the 
 foUoAvdng facts, extracted from that bishop's Regis- 
 ter, may be depended upon : — 
 
 "'This abbot was cited 15tli April, 1513, to ap- 
 pear before Dr. Richard Collet, the bishop's com- 
 missioner, to answer to the charge of coiitempt of 
 episcopal authority. The abbot, instead of explain- 
 ing the occasion of his conduct, or offering any 
 apology, produced a written appeal to the Roman 
 court. The appeal was declared by the commis- 
 sioner to be frivolous and inadmissible. For his 
 obstinacy the abbot was suspended that very day ; 
 and, on the 22d of the same month, was excommu- 
 nicated 'propter mvdtiplicem contumaciam.' On the 
 lOth of May he appeared in person before Bishop 
 Oldham at the palace in Exeter, and on his bended 
 knees most humbly and most earnestly intrcated to 
 be absolved from his censures ; and offered to sub- 
 mit himself unconditionally to the bishop's cor- 
 rection. The bishop then tendered the oath of 
 submission to the see of Exeter, and, after he 
 
 o3
 
 298 THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 had taken it, absolved him from his censures, 
 whereupon the abbot paid him down five pounds of 
 gold. 
 
 " ' The repentance of the abbot seems to have 
 been insincere ; for, soon after, he appealed to the 
 Primate, William Warham, and to Richard Fitz- 
 James, Bishop of London. The question chiefly 
 turned on the right of episcopal visitation. These 
 prelates decided on the 8th of February following, 
 that the abbot had not produced any indults, bulls, 
 or vouchers authorizing any exemption from the 
 jurisdictioTi of the ordinary ; they therefore decreed 
 that he and his convent should submit to this re- 
 gularly constituted authority, as their predecessors 
 had done from time immemorial : they recom- 
 mended to the abbot to apply to the bishop for the 
 benefit of absolution ; and they directed the bishop 
 to confer it without hesitation, and to treat the 
 abbot with mildness and paternal affection.' So 
 far Oldham's Register. 
 
 •' This abbot was not discouraged by defeat. From 
 the primate he appealed to the Court of Rome ; and 
 at last succeeded in obtaining from Pope Leo X. a 
 bull of such ample and extraordinary privileges as 
 completely to indemnify him for his former ex- 
 penses and trouble. This bull is dated i4th Sep- 
 tember, 1517 [it is copied in Mr. Oliver's Appendix]. 
 It expressly exempts the Abbey of Tavistock, Avith 
 its several dependencies, from all archiepiscopal, 
 and all episcopal jurisdiction, visitation, and supe- 
 riority, and takes it and them under the sole and 
 immediate protection of the Holy Sec. It declares 
 that all suspensions, interdicts, and excommunica- 
 tions pronounced against them by any other autlio-
 
 XL.] THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. 299 
 
 rity than that of the See Apostolic are absolutely 
 null and void : ' Nulla, irrita et invalida, nulliusque 
 roboris vel momenti.' As an acknowledgment for 
 such sweeping liberality, the abbot was annually to 
 pay to the apostolic chamber, on the feast of SS. 
 Peter and Paul, half an ounce of gold (i. e.), twenty 
 shillings of lawful money of Great Britain. 
 
 " 4Uth. John Feryn, it is said, succeeded in Decem- 
 ber, 1523. But his conlirmation is not recorded 
 in Bishop Veysey"'s Registers. In virtue of the bull 
 of Pope Leo X., I observe that this abbot styles 
 himself, in several leases before me, ' Abbas exempti 
 monasterii Beate Marie et Sci Rumonis de Tavy- 
 stock.' On the surrender of the monastery he was 
 granted a pension of 100/ per annum. Nineteen 
 of his religious obtained salaries at the same time. 
 The grants of these pensions are dated 26th April, 
 31st Henry VIII. 
 
 " The revenues of this Abbey were rated at 902/. 
 5s. Id. per annum. The site of this great Abbey 
 and the principal of its estates were granted by 
 King Henry VIII., on the 4th July, 31st year of 
 his reign, to Lord John Russell. 
 
 " The abbot's residence in Exeter occupied the 
 site of those premises in South-street noAv in the pos- 
 session of Mr. Russell. I have met Avith a lease 
 (dated 7th of November, a few months before the 
 dissolution of the Abbey) by which John, the 
 last abbot, let the said dwelling-house to Edward 
 Brydgeman, and Jane his wife, for the term of 
 sixty years. ' Hospicii nostri vocati Le Inne de 
 Bere cum omnibus suis pertinenciis in vico Australi 
 Civitatis Exon." Querv, was this the house men-
 
 300 THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 tioned in 'Doomsday' as beiiisr morto;ao;ed to the 
 Abbey by a citizen of Exeter ? 
 
 " After the suppression of the Abbey, a chapel ^vas 
 erected within its inclosure, and licensed for the 
 celebration of di\'ine worship, at the request of the 
 noble Lady Dorothy Mountjoy. on the 10th March, 
 1541-2.— Vid. 'Eegist. Veysey/ fob 109. 
 
 •• The registers mention a prior}- in St. Clary's, 
 the principal of the Scylly Islands, as being depen- 
 dent on Tayistock Abbey. 
 
 •• Bishop Brantyngham, 26th Sept. 1374, granted 
 an indulgence of twenty days to all persons within 
 the diocese of Exeter, Penifentibus et Confessis, who 
 should contribute to the support of the Lepers' 
 House, dedicated to St. ]Mary Magdalene, at Tavy- 
 stock. 
 
 '• There was a chapel of St. ^largaret near the 
 town of Tayistock. — Vid. 3. • Regist. Lacy," fol. 53. 
 
 " Also, a chapel of St. John the Baptist, Juxta 
 aquam de Taiy in Parochid de Tavystock. — Ibid. fol. 
 128." 
 
 " License for the Abbat of Tavistocke to 
 WEAR the Pontificalia.* 
 
 "Tlie King, to all to whom these presents shall 
 come, greeting. Be it known that we, of our espe- 
 cial grace, haye granted and giyen permission for us 
 and our heirs, as much as in us lies, to John Den- 
 ynton, Abbat of the house and church of the blessed 
 St. Mary and St. Eumon, to solicit and haye per- 
 mission from the sovereign Pontiff, the present 
 Pope, to use tlie mitre, amice (almucio), sandals, and 
 other pontifical insignia, and of blessing in the 
 
 * From notices of Tavistock Abbev, bv Mr. Kempe.
 
 XL.] THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. 301 
 
 solemnity of masses, and pronouncing absolutions 
 with the same authority, and in the same manner, 
 as any Bishop uses. 
 
 " And that the said Abbat may likewise prosecute 
 any other provisions concerning the above matter, 
 and enjoy the benefit of them for himself and his 
 successors for ever. 
 
 "And further, we, of our greater favour, have 
 granted and given heense to the said Abbat, that 
 he may receive Apostolic Letters and Bulls for the 
 aforesaid provisions, and all and singular therein 
 contained, execute, read, and cause to be read, and 
 them and evcrv of them altogether, fully and wholl}-, 
 quietly, peaceably, and without harm, according to 
 the eifect of the said Letters and Bulls, and each of 
 them, may use and enjoy ; forbidding that the said 
 Abbat or his proctors, fautors, counsellors, helpers, 
 or adherents, or any other his solicitors, readers, or 
 publishers of the said Letters and Bulls, shall be by 
 us or our heirs impeded, disquieted, disturbed, mo- 
 lested or oppressed, the statutes f < r provisors, or- 
 dinations, provisions, enacted to the contrarv, or 
 other things, causes, matters whatever, which on our 
 or any other part may be said or alleged, notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 " Li witness whereof we have caused these our 
 Letters to be made patent. 
 
 " Witness the King, at Westminster, the third day 
 of February, (3G Hen \l., a.d. 1457.)' 
 
 And now having conveyed to you in these letters, 
 all the information that I deem of interest, or could 
 collect, respecting this most interesting portion of
 
 302 THE ABBOTS OF TAVISTOCK. [lET. 
 
 my count}'-, I must conclude with repeating the 
 hope that it will not be very long before you fulfil 
 your promise of allowing us the happiness of seeing 
 you, andguiding you in person to the various scenes 
 I have attempted to describe. 
 
 In the interval, allow me to assure you that 
 should these letters appear before the public, what- 
 ever may be their fate, my debt of obligation to you 
 can never be forgotten. To you I owe the first sug- 
 gestion, and 1 may add, the plan of my most pleas- 
 ing task, which has afforded me hours of delight in 
 the composition. And to know that I have been so 
 fortunate in any way to afford you entertainment, 
 or to meet your approval in the attempt, will be, in 
 the recollection of my labours, then- highest and 
 most valued reward. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir, 
 
 And believe me ever gratefully 
 And respectfully yours, 
 
 Anna Eliza Bray.
 
 XL!.] 303 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Additional notes to a former letter ; wherefore here 
 given— Walking Stewart and the Turks — Jerningham, the poet — 
 His anecdotes of Pope, &c. — Sir Francis Bourgeois — Anecdotes of 
 De Lille, the French poet— Memorabilia of the hite celebrated Mr. 
 Mathias — Some of his original letters, connected with the subject 
 of a bi agraphical sketch touched upon in this volume, given at 
 large. 
 
 Vicarage, Tavistock, October 21, 1835. 
 
 My DEAR Sir, 
 
 SI^"CE I committed to the press the slight 
 slcetch I have given of my husband's pretensions 
 that I should class his name in the biography of 
 this place, I have found, in an old box of papers, 
 liitherto most unfortunately neglected, a very large 
 mass of journals, letters, &c., Avritten by Mr. Bray ; 
 and amonjyst them several letters from liis lament- 
 ed friend Mr. Mathias. Had I found these be- 
 fore, I should have been furnished with material 
 for a more copious and interesting account than the 
 one already printed that is addressed to you. It is 
 now, alas ! too late to do much more than to state the 
 circumstance, and regret the oversight. But as the 
 recent death of Mr. Mathias must make any records 
 connected with him of peculiar interest, I cannot 
 altogether forbear adding a few letters of his to my 
 husband, and some notes respecting the latter that 
 refer to the subjects to which I have before alluded 
 in my previous statements ; also an additional nole
 
 304 WALKING STEWART. [lET. 
 
 concerning Walking- Stewart, Jerningham, and otliers, 
 that should have been incorporated with the former 
 extracts from IMr. Bray's papers. The interest of 
 these neglected documents is the only apology I can 
 offer to you for thus giving them out of place ; 
 having (as the former sheet is printed off) no other 
 means of making them a part and parcel of my 
 work. I begin with a continuation, for such it is, 
 of i\Ir. Bray s notices of 
 
 WALKING STEWART. 
 
 " Mr. Ta3lor *, and Stewart, the philosopher, com- 
 monly called Walking Stewart, spent the evening 
 with me. He is considered by some as mad ; and 
 one, in order to prove that he was so, said that none 
 but a madman would have remained on board ship 
 pent up in a hencoop for a fortniglit. 
 
 "But the truth of the story is, that Stewart was 
 in Persia when there was a bloody war between two 
 nations ; where, if he had remained, he wo\dd have 
 been obliged to side with one party or the other. 
 He took, therefore, the only method of getting out 
 of the country, which was to solicit the crew of a 
 Turkish vessel to take him on board. They refused 
 it on the score of his being an infidel, and that it 
 Avould endanger the ship. They contrived, how- 
 ever, a method to cheat the vengeance of their 
 prophet in somewhat the same manner as our stage- 
 coach drivers contrive to evade the act of Parliament 
 limiting the number of passengers, by hanging the 
 frame of a bed at the side of the vessel, in which he 
 was obliged to remain, washed by the spray of the 
 sea, for a week or ten days. This was certainly far 
 
 * Then the Editor of the Sun iiajier.
 
 XLI.] MR. JERNINGHAM. 305 
 
 better than being murdered or made prisoner and 
 confined for life or starved to death. 
 
 " His character has been attempted, but very un- 
 successfully, to be introduced on the stage, in the 
 after-piece of ' Hartford Bridge,' though it has 
 been generally supposed to allude to Browne. This 
 dramatic hero talks of having skipped over moun- 
 tains, laments his having lost his icalking travels, 
 and that he would make no scruple to rob a church, 
 &c.; also of his being fond of singing in different 
 lano-uafres ; which Stewart did once at a meeting of 
 the Charter House. 
 
 " His most peculiar doctrine seems to be a trans- 
 migration not of souls but bodies ; or a perpetual 
 reciprocation of atoms. He says that the works of 
 Bacon contain only the seeds of knowledge." 
 
 In a paper, dated " July 1st, 1803,' Mr. Bray"s 
 notes contain the following particulars respecting 
 that celebrated wit and poet 
 
 MR. JERXINGHAM. 
 
 " I this day dined with my friend !Mr. Taylor, at 
 a restaurateur's, where he introduced me to Mr. 
 Jcrningham, the poet. He is about sixty years of 
 age ; but his florid complexion makes him look some 
 years younger. He mixes a good deal with the first 
 circles, and indeed is almost every night to be found 
 at the Opera. He has also a general acquaintance 
 amone: the literary world, of which he is himself a 
 distinguished ornament. His conversation is stored 
 \dth anecdotes of men of letters, from which, in- 
 deed, the biography of each might be collected. 
 
 '•Talking of Pope and of Martha Blount, the 
 poet's favourite, he said that she was his cousin ; 
 and agreed that she treated Pope with cruelty.
 
 306 MR. JERNIKGHAM. [lET. 
 
 Mr. Jerningliam was introduced to her on his return 
 from abroad, at the time of the coronation, and 
 recollects he was requested not to inention the name 
 of Mr. Pope in her hearing. He has frequently been 
 rowed by the waterman, who was accustomed to take 
 
 Pope, almost every line day, to Lady 's, 
 
 whence he returned home in her chariot. He always 
 dressed in black, with a bag wig, and when the 
 weather was chilly, sat in a chair in the boat, with a 
 covering similar to those used by the porters in their 
 masters' halls. The poet at length became so irri- 
 table, that he gave a general order not to let a gen- 
 tleman be admitted who frequently came to see him, 
 because he talked too much for him. At last, how- 
 ever, the gentleman introduced himself among a 
 party ; but as Pope never spoke to him, he was 
 ol)liged to give up his acquaintance. We formed 
 the plan of paying a visit together to the poet's 
 villa; and Mr. Taylor insisted that when it took 
 place, we should each write some verses on the 
 subject. And, in allusion to our present meeting, 
 he made an extemporaneous parody on Dryden, 
 beginning, 
 
 ' Three poets in three distant counties born,' &c. 
 
 " Bishop Hurd and Potter, the translator of 
 iEschylus, were tutors to the Prince of Wales. 
 The latter only retains the prince's friendship, and 
 whenever lie comes to town is constantly welcomed 
 at Carlton House. Potter, for the greatest part 
 of his life, was in the most indigent circumstances ; 
 and as he was curate to Hurd, Mr. Jerningham, on 
 a vacancy of the Laureateship, wrote to the latter, 
 requesting he would recommend him to his Majesty 
 for the situation. The Bishop said, when he had an 
 opportunity, he would mention it at the levee, though
 
 XLI.] MR. JERNINGHAM. 307 
 
 he might have had an audience on the subject. By 
 this neglect, Warton was appointed, who, thoug-h in 
 no good circumstances at that time himself, said that 
 had he known of the application he would have 
 waived the appointment in favour of Potter. The 
 latter, now in his old age, is in the happiest circmii- 
 stances, being (through the Prince) made Prebendary 
 of Norwich Cathedral. 
 
 " Whilst the Prince w^as under the tuition of Hurd, 
 and lived at Kew, commenced his acquaintance with 
 Mrs. Robinsoii, who took a house in the neigh- 
 bourhood. When the evening fixed for a ren- 
 dezvous was come, the Prince was sure, by some 
 excuse or other, to send the bishop early to bed, well 
 knowing that he would soon fall asleep; then, with 
 a silk ladder, he climbed the garden wall, and was 
 received on the other side by his mistress." 
 
 The following notes from Mr. Bray's papers, 
 dated Janviary 15th, 1804, respecting Sir Francis 
 Bourgeois, are curious ; I therefore give them a 
 place : — 
 
 " Having more than once met Sir Francis Bour- 
 geois, he the other day offered to show me Mr. 
 Dcsenfant's pictures. I accordingly called by ap- 
 pointment this morning at No. 39, Charlotte Street, 
 Portland Place, where he and Mr. Desenfant reside. 
 Two or three gentlemen were there at the same time. 
 One of them, a Mr. Howard, or Troward, (I do not 
 know which,) a lawyer, was present. He was prin- 
 cipally concerned in the management of Hastings's 
 trial. So many MS. books were necessary on that 
 occasion, that they were carried to Westminster in 
 two carts. He kept twelve or fourteen clerks con- 
 stantly reading, in order to mark passages, digest.
 
 308 SIR F. BOURGEOIS. [lET. 
 
 and s>:ive liim an abstract of their contents. Burke 
 was at his liouse for ten or twelve hours abnost 
 every day during that period, and has stayed in his 
 house for a month together. I understand he has a 
 small but highly valuable collection of pictures, 
 some of which Bonaparte wished to purchase of him. 
 " To return to Mr. Desenfant's collection. The 
 first picture Sir Francis showed to me was a nymph, 
 by Titian ; for which, with some others, Le Brun, on 
 the part of Bonaparte, offered him a carte blanche. 
 Perhaps it ma,j be worth six or eight thousand 
 pounds. She is represented as asleep in a recum- 
 bent posture, and naked. Cupid bends over her 
 pointing with his dart, by which we are to suppose 
 that the painter would give us to understand that 
 Love was the subject of her dream. It is the Venus 
 de ]\Icdici in a different posture, and as remarkable 
 for its colouring as for its correctness of drawing. It 
 is kept covered with a silk curtain. On ni}* remark- 
 ing that, like the ^^enus de Medici, the face was not 
 so perfect as the rest of the body, Sir Francis re- 
 marked that, for wise purposes, our tastes were very 
 diffc'rent. This Venus had dark hair ; his taste 
 was, he confessed, for very fair women with red, I 
 suppose aiihurn hair, which he tliought, Avith a little 
 poicde)-, possessed a most bewitching appearance. 
 Women of this description were generally of a fair 
 and delicate complexion ; but I remarked that they 
 were also commonly freckled and I'ather coarse. The 
 latter, he said, might, and should in all women, be 
 corrected Ijy essences and perfumes. In this room 
 is a Madonna and child, with a basket, in the 
 corner, very small, which every one allows to be an 
 undoubted Correggio. In the next are four by
 
 XLI.] SIR F. BOURGEOIS. 309 
 
 Murillo, the Martyrdom of St. Sebastian by Guido 
 Keni, &c. 
 
 "Talking of statues, Sir Francis said that Mr. 
 Townley, of Westminster, had the finest private 
 collection in the kingdom : of which what struck 
 him the most was the bust of Minerva, with her 
 helmet and breast-plate of bronze, that by a kind of 
 contrast save life and animation to the whole. He 
 allowed, however, that this taste may be carried too 
 far, as it was amongst the ancients, who occasionally 
 painted or enamelled the eyes of their statues. 
 This he considered as a false taste. I compared it 
 to a wax doll, whose eyes are made to move by 
 springs. A gentleman present, however, differed 
 from him, and said that the idea from seeing statues 
 with cavities in the eyes, of their being filled up with 
 enamelled ones, was wrong, as they were filled with 
 precious stones, generally sapphires ; which pro- 
 duced an effect altogether astonishing. No one 
 could look at it an instant without being so struck 
 as to be obliged to recede some paces. It was not 
 from its resemblance to nature, but from the dazzling 
 effect of its appearance. 
 
 " Sir Francis said that there were, he understood, 
 some of the finest pictures in the world at the 
 Escurial in Spain. But the finest of them, con- 
 sisting of about twenty Venuses by Titian, were 
 seldom shown ; and indeed some of them had been 
 burnt by the priests from an over-scrupulousness, 
 an idea of their evil tendency. On the whole, how- 
 ever, he agreed that it might affect the generality of 
 persons, as might also statues ; but that artists sel- 
 dom or never experienced any injury from such 
 subjects.
 
 310 SIR F. BOURGEOIS. [lET. 
 
 " One room consisted of Poussins, containing 
 about eight or nine ; a thing beheved to be unpa- 
 ralleled. 
 
 "In the drawing room is a chef cV ceuvre of Cuyp ; 
 but in another a cattle piece, by Potter, superior to 
 anything of the former. Claude was born in the 
 first year of the sixteenth century, so that his own 
 proficiency in painting, and that of the age in Avhicli 
 he lived, may be known together. Sir Francis, at 
 sight, can tell to a year or two when his works were 
 executed. Indeed I think that his own style re- 
 sembles that of Claude, when he painted with a clear 
 and not a glowing tint. The pictures are moved 
 on hinges, and some even draw out into a good 
 light by means of iron supports, — a most excellent 
 plan !" 
 
 From some conversation with a literary gentle- 
 man in town, respecting the celebrated French poet, 
 De Lille, Mr. Bray received much information. The 
 following he noted down : — 
 
 " The Abbe de Lille is not quite blind, as it is 
 generally reported of him. His vivacity in company 
 is very engaging, which is increased by his rich fund 
 of anecdote. With respect to his writings he is 
 impatient of criticism. His undertaking the trans- 
 lation of Milton was at the suggestion of some Eng- 
 lish gentlemen, who, about a dozen in number, 
 agreed to give him, on its completion, one hundred 
 pounds. One of them called on him soon after, and 
 found him witli a wretched little edition of Milton, 
 the text of whicli was so small that, had he conti- 
 nued to read it, it would probably have soon ren- 
 dered him quite blind. He had also a French prose 
 translation. The gentleman made him a present
 
 XLI.] ABBE DE LILLE. 311 
 
 of Newton's edition and a Latin translation, from 
 which he acknowledged he had derived great be- 
 nefit. He was at first greatly at a loss to translate 
 the allegor}^ of Sin and Death, since the personifi- 
 cation in French must have been entirely reversed ; 
 sin (k peche) being masculine; and death {la mort) 
 feminine. However, he at length supphed those 
 personages by Le Trepas and La Revolte. De Lille 
 had not before sufficiently appreciated the genius of 
 Milton ; but soon found reason to consider him the 
 greatest poet that ever existed. The translation, in 
 parts, is remarkably fine, but in others equally cen- 
 surable ; and though those passages have been 
 pointed out to him he would never correct or alter 
 them. The French language labours under the 
 disadvantage of not being able to express, in a con- 
 cise or even elegant manner, the different positions 
 of the body. How could the French translate — 
 ' She sat like Patience on a monument ;' ' Stood like 
 a tower ;' ' Rides in the whirlwind and directs the 
 storm?' &c. In De Lille's translation of Virgil's 
 Georgics, it was objected to him that he had omitted 
 the name of Mecsenas in the opening of the first 
 book. He confessed its impropriety, biit did not 
 alter it." 
 
 The following notes respecting Mr. Mathias I 
 extract from Mr. Bray's notes, which he heads as 
 "MEMORABILIA. 
 
 "27th January, 1807. — In a conversation wliicli 
 I had with Mr. Mathias on Italian literature, he 
 informed me that Gray, though so great a poet 
 himself, and an admirer of the poets of Italy, was 
 unacquainted with the works of Guidi, Menzini, 
 Filicaja, &c., and indeed of almost all that are con-
 
 312 MR. MATHIAS. [lET. 
 
 tained in his ' Compoiiimenti Lirici/ He had once 
 in his possession the commonplace-book of Gray ; 
 and it contained very copious extracts from the 
 ' Comeiitarj' of Crcscimbcni. He told me he coukl 
 gratify mc with a siglit of Gray's handwriting, and 
 fetched from his hbrary a fasciculus, being a kind 
 of commentary in Engbsh on Pindar and Aristo- 
 phanes. It was written remarkably neat and plain, 
 but rather stiff, and bearing evident marks of being 
 written slowly. It had a great resemblance to the 
 Italian mode of writing ; every part of the letters 
 being nearly of an equal thickness. He wrote always 
 with a crow quill. 
 
 " Observing no obliterations or erasures, and in- 
 deed only one or two interlineations, I remarked that 
 it must have been a fair copy, and wondered how he 
 could have taken so mvich pains, unless he had in- 
 tended it for publication. But Mr. Mathias assured 
 me that Gray was so averse to publication, that, had 
 not a surreptitious copy of his ' Elegy in a Country 
 Churchyard' appeared, he never would have pub- 
 lished it ; and, even when he did, it was without his 
 name. The reason that he was so correct was that he 
 never committed anything to paper till he had most 
 maturely considered it beforehand. 
 
 " Mr. Mathias explained to me how he was so well 
 acquainted with these particulars respecting Gray, 
 by informing mc that he was most intimate with 
 Mr. Nichols, the familiar friend and executor of 
 Gray, who had lent him the MSS. On my lamenting 
 that they were never made public, he said tliat it was 
 not for want of his most earnest solicitation ; but 
 that Mr. Nichols Avas an old man, and Avished even 
 to conceal that he was in possession of any such
 
 XLI.] MR. MATIIIAS. 313 
 
 precious reliqucs, lest he should be plagued -vvitli 
 requests to have them copied, or at least to show 
 them. He therefore in a manner enjoined me to 
 secrecy, and I consequently commit the present 
 memoranda to paper merely for my own satisfaction, 
 that by an occasional inspection the pleasure I 
 received from this conversation may be more for- 
 cibly brought to my recollection. For the same 
 reason, and as those MSS. are never likely to be 
 made public, I shall enter more at large upon the 
 consideration of them ; at least as much as a cursory 
 inspection during a morning call would permit. 
 
 '•' As Gray always affixed the date to ever}^ thing 
 he wrote, \vhich, as Mr. Mathias informed me, was 
 also the custom of Petrarch, it seems that he wrote 
 his remarks on Pindar at rather an earlv ao-c. I 
 think the date was 1747. It is very closely written. 
 The Greek characters are remarkably neat : he 
 begins with the date of the composition, and takes 
 into his consideration almost every thino- connected 
 wdth it. both chronologically and historically. The 
 notes of the scholiasts do not escape him ; and he is 
 so minute as to direct his attention to almost ever^- 
 exjoression. He appears to have reconciled many 
 apparent incongruities, and to have elucidated many 
 difficulties. I the more lament these valuable anno- 
 tations remain unpublished, as they would prove 
 that, in the opinion of so great a man, the English 
 language is in ever}' respect adequate to express 
 every thing that criticism the most erudite can re- 
 quire. It presented to my eye a most gratifying 
 novelty to see the union of Greek and English and 
 to find that they harmonized together as well as 
 Greek and Latin. 
 
 VOL. lil. p 

 
 314 MR. MATHIAS. [lKT. 
 
 " The remarks on the plays of Aristophanes were 
 so minute, not only expressing- when they were 
 written and acted, but when they were revived, that^ 
 as Mr. Mathias justly observed, one Avould think he 
 was reading an account of some modern comedy, 
 instead of the dramatic composition of about two 
 thousand years old. Gray also left behind him very 
 copious remarks upon Plato, which had also formerly 
 been in Mr. Mathias's hands; likewise large col- 
 lections respecting the customs of the ancients, &c. 
 And so multiftirious and minute were his investiga- 
 tions, that he directed his attention even to the 
 supellex, or household furniture of the ancients, 
 collecting together all the passages in the classics 
 that had any reference to the svdiject. 
 
 " Mr. Mathias showed me likewise many sheets 
 copied by Gray from some Italian author; also, I 
 believe, an historical composition, and a great many 
 genealogies, of which Gray was ])articularly fond. 
 On my remarking that I wished Gray bad written 
 less genealogies and more .poetry, he informed me 
 that the reason he had written so little poetry was 
 from the great exertion (which he made no reserve 
 in confessing) that it cost him in the labour of com- 
 position. Mr. Mathias informed me that he had 
 seen the original copy of Gray's ' Ode on the Pro- 
 gress of Poesy f that there were not so many alter- 
 ations as he expected ; which was evidently owing to 
 his method of long y)revious meditation ; and that 
 seme of the lines were written three or four times 
 ovor; and then, what is not always the case with an 
 author, the best was always adopted. 
 
 " He said there was nothing of which Gray had 
 not the profoundcst knowledge, at least of such
 
 XLI.] LETTERS OF MK. MATHIAS. 315 
 
 subjects as come under the deuoraination of learning, 
 except mathematics ; of which, as well as his friend 
 Mason, he was as completely ignorant, and which 
 he used frequently to lament. He was acquainted 
 with botany, but hardly seems to have paid it tho 
 compliment it deserves, when he said he learnt it 
 merely for the sake of sparing himself the trouble of 
 thinking." 
 
 I shall here insert a few of the letters, already 
 named, from ]Mr. Mathias, as they are so intimately 
 connected with many points of import in the biogra- 
 phical sketch formerly communicated to you. Brief 
 as are these letters, they nevertheless contain pas- 
 sages that show the mind of the man in private life 
 whose genius enriched the literary world with the 
 ' Pursuits of Literature,' and whose fine taste and 
 profound knowledge of Italian poetry has conferred 
 such essential benefit on all who would study or 
 can appreciate the most beautiful productions of a 
 foreign land. 
 
 The first is addressed to my husband soon after 
 his appointment to the Mcarage of Tavistock. 
 "TO THE REV. E. A. BRAY. 
 "Mdd/e Scotland Yard, Ifhitehall, Oct. 21, 1811. 
 
 "My dear Sir, 
 
 '•Your obliging letter of the 9th instant came 
 to me a few days ago, but I am ignorant of the 
 person who was so kind as to leave it at my house. 
 It gives me the most sensible satisfaction and plea- 
 sure to hear that the Duke of Bedford has pre- 
 sented you to the vicarage of Tavistock, &c.; and I 
 trust it is only an earnest of what his Grace may 
 mtend to do for you hereafter. At present it ap- 
 
 p2
 
 316 LETTERS OF MR. MATHIAS. [lET. 
 
 pears to me as desirable a situation as j'oii could 
 \visli ; but I should be glad if he could obtain for 
 you hereafter a prebend in some cathedral, which is 
 a piece of preferment of the most eligible kind, and 
 tenable vdth any living. Pray bear this in mind, 
 and let your friends solicit for it to him or any other 
 powerful interest, and not to lose the chance or pro- 
 bability of success for want of application. 
 
 " I am glad that you intend to avail yourself of 
 the Bishop of Norwich's offer to ordain you priest 
 at Christmas, as it should not be delayed; and it 
 can never be accomplished in a more pleasing man- 
 ner than by that excellent and amiable man. I 
 shall be most happy to see you when you come up 
 to town. I had hopes of visiting Devonshire this 
 summer ; but if I should live and be able to come 
 next year, I shall wish to avail myself of your kind 
 invitation to pay you a visit. It woidd give me 
 pleasiu'e to meet Mr. and Mrs. Baskerfield at any 
 time or place. 
 
 " You talked of printing (hereafter) some of 
 Bishop Taylor's sermons, modernized : I should 
 rather recommend to your consideration whether it 
 might not be more expedient to call them abridged. 
 He is a writer of such acknowledged eloquence and 
 learning, that it might be rather thought vmneces- 
 sary, at least, if not presumptuous, to modernize 
 such compositions. The removal of a few cpiaint 
 expressions and abridging the matter, which is too 
 copious, would answer every valuable purpose. I 
 have no douljt that your sacred profession will prove 
 a source of comfort, satisfaction, and honour to 
 yourself, and of utility to those whom you are to su- 
 perintend and instruct. I have one more wish, and
 
 XLI.] LETTliRS OF MK. MATHIAS. 317 
 
 a most material one for you, which I hope I may 
 shortly hear, that you are not simjle : 
 
 ' Sed lepida faveat conjuge castus Hj-men.' 
 
 " I shall entertain no doubts on this subject. If 
 I had the pleasure of being acquainted with your 
 relations, 1 should desire to be remembered to 
 them. 
 
 " Believe me always 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 "T.J. Mathias." 
 
 "TO THE REV. E. A. BRAY. 
 
 " Mtdd/e Scotland Yard, Whitehall, Nov. 9, ISll. 
 
 "My DEAR Sir, 
 
 " You are very obliging- in your remembrance 
 of me. I received the woodcocks and the o-olden 
 plovers in good condition, and excellent birds they 
 Avcre. AVhen I take my gun I fear shall not be 
 able to offer you such admirable game ; but I shall 
 be happy if I could be of the least service to you in 
 this part of the world in any other way. 
 
 " I am glad you think of London in your way to 
 Norwich, as I believe you cannot do better than by 
 accepting the offer of the Bishop of Norwich and 
 completing your ordination as priest. * * * * 
 * * I have nothing to reply to jour explanation 
 relating to Bishop Taylor ; if your endeavours to 
 adapt and compress them have been so successful in 
 your congregation, punctum omne tulisti. The only 
 danger, in point of composition, of being too con- 
 versant in writers of that age, arises from the 
 quaintness of tlicir style, and the peculiarities of
 
 318 LKTTKRS OF MR. MATHIAS. [lET. 
 
 their metaphor, sometimes carried to a greater ex- 
 tent tlian could be wished. The vigour of their 
 tlioughts, and the strains of their eloquence are 
 seldom attained by the moderns. I believe there 
 was more real piety among them than among the 
 generality of the moderns. It is very meritorious 
 in you to have laboured with so much success, and 
 to have newly made up the ancient wardrohe, as you 
 term it. 
 
 " I shall be very happy to see you when 3'ou come 
 to London, and I have no doubt that you will pass 
 a useful, and, consecpiently, a happy life. It was 
 well said, 'nisi utile est quod facimus, stulta est 
 gloria.' With my best respects to your familv, and 
 the most sincere wishes for your constant and un- 
 ceasing welfare, believe me 
 " Yours always, 
 
 " Most sincerel}^ 
 
 "T. J. Math IAS." 
 
 The following letter from Mr. Mathias contains 
 so feeling an allusion to a great private, as avcII as 
 public calamity of the time, that there needs no 
 apology for giving it here a place. 
 
 "TO Tin: REV. E. A. BRAY. 
 
 " MukUe Scot/and Yard, Uhitchall, May 25, 1812. 
 
 " Mv DEAR Sir, 
 
 " I AM very much obliged to you for your kind 
 attention to me, and I beg to mahe my best ac- 
 Ivnowledgments for the two letters which I received 
 at different times fi'om you. It gives me a particu- 
 lar pleasure to know that you feel such sincere
 
 XLI.J LETTERS OF MR. MATHIAS. 319 
 
 satisfaction in the change of yonr profession, and I 
 am convinced that our good bishop was happ^^ to 
 achnit so able and zealous a minister into the 
 Church of England. I believe that if you do not 
 force yourself into exertions rather beyond your 
 strength, you will accomplish all the important ob- 
 jects which you have in view, and fulfil the great 
 purpose of your life, the highest which any man can 
 propose to himself, and, as I believe, the most satis- 
 factory beyond all comparison. 
 
 " I am sure that you have felt, in common with 
 every good and reflecting man, the late great na- 
 tional and private loss, which has flung affliction, 
 dismay, and consternation throughout the country, 
 from the atrocious act which we abhor and deplore in 
 the assassination of the most excellent, virtuous, and 
 able man we had amongst us, and from whom, through 
 Providence, we all looked for the preservation of the 
 kingdom, and the direction of the public affairs to a 
 happy issue. The loss of this great man is irreparable 
 in the truest sense ; and to those who knew him, as I 
 have done nearly all his life, it is a loss which no 
 words can describe. The noblest testimony to his 
 merits, ser\TLces, and virtues cannot be made too 
 high : nor can the family of the truly great Spencer 
 Perceval ever be esteemed, or dignified, or provided 
 for in too ample and conspicuous a manner. It is 
 a subject on which it is difficult to speak as we mus 
 feel. We know not yet the extent and full im- 
 portance of his loss, nor can we ever express our 
 abhorrence and dismay at ' the deep damnation of 
 his taking off',"' in words and terms too strong. 
 
 " I have at last finished and printed the poem to 
 which you alluded in vour letter: and T have endea-
 
 320 LETTERS OF MR. MATHIAS. [lET. 
 
 vourcd to introduce the Ljcidas of Milton on the 
 banks of the Arno, and hope he will be received as 
 I wish. I trust you will accept the little volume 
 which I send as a mark of my esteem and regard 
 for you, and of my knowledge of your predilection 
 for the British and the Tuscan muses. You must 
 not rclincjuish your classical recreations in the in- 
 tervals of your serious engagements. Above all, 
 at tend* to your health, which is beyond any price, 
 and by sparing yourself }ou will prolong your power 
 of doing good. 
 
 "■ I still flatter myself that I shall be able, in the 
 course of the summer, to avail myself of your kind 
 wish to sec me in Devonshire ; and when I can 
 name the time, I will give you a line to know if it 
 will be convenient to you. I beg my best com- 
 pliments to all your family, and hope that I shall 
 hear that yon are cjuite recovered from your indis- 
 position. 
 
 " Believe me, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Ever yours most truly, 
 
 " T. J. Matiiias." 
 
 The next letter, here inserted, contains a Latin 
 inscription by Mr. Mathias. It was written in con- 
 sequence of the circumstance I am about to state. 
 In the years 1812 and 1813 Mr. Bray had been in 
 so deplorable a state of debility, that he was for 
 some months unable to do any duty in his church. 
 To a friend (afterwards his curate for many years), 
 the late worthy and Eev. Kicliard Vyvyan AVilles- 
 ford, who did duty for him, Mr. Bray felt desirous 
 of presenting a silver cup in token of gratitude.
 
 XLl.] LETTERS OF MR. MATHIAS. 321 
 
 The cup was made by Eundle and Bridge. Enter- 
 taining a liigli opinion of Mr. ]Matliias's critical 
 judgment in Latin composition, Mr. Bray consulted 
 him respecting the inscription for it, when the fol- 
 lowing letter was sent in reply to this application 
 to his classical friend. 
 
 "TO THE REV. K. A. BR\Y. 
 "Middle Scotland Yard, If/aieha/l, Jpril \2, 1813. 
 
 " My dl:ar Sir, 
 
 " You are very kiiid to me, and I am most 
 sensible of it, particidarly so as I regret sincerely 
 that I had mislaid your former letter, which I had 
 intended to answer long since. Your goodness and 
 attention howeAcr haAO relieved me, and I no 
 longer dcla}' acknowledging both your favours. It 
 gives me great uneasiness to liear that you have 
 been so indifferent, but I hope that you will hence- 
 forth remember that it is as great and essential a 
 part of yoTir duty to take care of your own health 
 and spirits as to perform what is incumbent on 
 you professionally. Too much zeal must not be 
 suffered to destroy your constitution. Your life 
 is most valuable, and the benefit of your labours 
 should be extended and not abrid<red. which mvist 
 be the case if you will not as religiously attend to 
 your o\A-n v.elfare as to that of others. I am very 
 glad that you have taken 3'our assistant, and no real 
 friend of yours will consider it as prudent, if you do 
 not measure your exertions by your strength and 
 natural capability to perform them. If they are too 
 great, or if ever any part of them is too fatiguing, 
 you should, for the time requisite ahstala ivholly 
 
 r3
 
 322 LETTERS OF MR. MATHIA.S. [lET. 
 
 fi'om the exercise of your function, however painful 
 to yourself, as I am convinced that it would be. 
 But it MUST be done, if you would live, and regain 
 an establishment of health. ■ Unum corpus unamque 
 \dtam ' (the expression is from Tacitus) is all we 
 have here, and they must be managed with discretion 
 while Providence continues them to us. We must 
 not shake the glass before the hour is run. 
 
 " I will flatter myself that I may be able, in the 
 course of the year, to pay you a visit, and make a 
 pilgrimage together to the Saint of the Mount, to 
 whom I owe it*. But still, various circumstances do 
 not permit me to be sanguine. If, however, I shall 
 be able, I will let you know in time, if it should be 
 convenient to you to increase my pleasure and satis- 
 faction by your company. 
 
 " As to the cup which you destine for your friend 
 in gratitude, if the following words should meet 
 your own ideas, I \Yould propose it, but entirely 
 submit it to your judgment : — 
 
 ' Ob Salutem Propriam 
 Amicitise Officiis 
 
 Becuperatam 
 
 Salutem Invicem 
 
 Sed Integram Sed Continuam 
 
 [here the name of your friend] 
 
 Gratissimo Animo Propinat 
 
 E. A. Bray.' 
 
 " You must correct any fault you may discover in 
 
 it with your usual candour. There should be no 
 
 punctuation at all in the inscription, and every 
 
 word should begin with a capital letter. With my 
 
 sincerest wishes for the perfect re-establishment of 
 
 * St. Michael's Mount, Cornwall.
 
 XLI.] LETTERS OF MR. MATHIAS, 323 
 
 your health, to enable you to fulfil your mmistry, 
 and every other duty, with that satisfaction, and 
 comfort, and honour, which you merit, believe me 
 " Yours always faithfull}-, 
 
 "T.J. Math I AS." 
 
 "TO THE REV. E. A. BRAY. 
 
 ''Middle Scotland Yard, JVIutehall. Oct. 21, 1815. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 You are very kind in your remembrance of 
 me, and I return you many thanks for your letter 
 which I received a few days ago. I A\^sh you could 
 have given me a more perfect account of your health, 
 as I am rather afraid, from what you hint, that your 
 strength is not so firmly established, as I sincerely 
 wish it were. I hope vou do not exert vourself too 
 much, as I am convinced that your zeal will always be 
 ec[ual to vour ability", and that nothing would induce 
 you to relax your sacred labours but the unavoidable 
 interruptions of health and usual bodily complaints. 
 You know it is sometimes advisable to draw back a 
 little to make advances with greater alacrit}^ St. 
 Paul is foil of military allusions, and I wish that you 
 would keep some of them in mind in your j)crsonal 
 exertions in the great cause, that you may be 
 enabled to proceed with caution and with consequent 
 vigour in your course. I should conceive that vou 
 will perform an acceptable service by offering to the 
 public what you intend ; and I have no doubt that 
 you have been careful to preserve those able expres- 
 sions, and that ancient dignity of the style for which 
 Bishop Taylor and some of our elder clidnes are so 
 conspicuous. Prolixity was their chief defect, and 
 perhaps repetition of the same ideas in continuity 
 may be among their errors ; but they are a glorious
 
 324 LETTERS OF MR. MATHIAS. [lET. 
 
 company of prhnitivc apostles, and an honour to the 
 Church of En<>lancl. Indeed vou have g-reat merit; 
 and you will feel that testimony within, of which 
 it may be said, '^Pluris est quam omnium Sermo.' 
 
 " It is not my lot ever to be engaged in anything 
 that is very important, but I am not at all times 
 absolutely indolent. Last year I published a com- 
 plete edition of Mr. Gray's works in two large vo- 
 lumes in quarto ; the second of which was entirely 
 new, and from his original MSS., which I selected 
 and arranged. Indeed it was the labour of some 
 years. I lately, by the particular wish of some 
 friends, published separately my observations on the 
 character and writings of Mr. Gray, as they stood 
 continued in the postscript to the whole work, and in 
 some other parts of the publication. As it is but a 
 small volume, I am inclined to hope that you will 
 gratify me by accepting it, as a sincere mark of my 
 esteem and regard for you. 
 
 " Believe mc ever most sincerely yours, 
 
 " Thos. J. Mathias. 
 
 " P. S. It would make mc very happy if I could 
 hope that there were a probability of my seeing you 
 a prebendary or canon of one of our principal cathe- 
 drals, as no one would deserve the dignity and 
 distinction more than yourself. Remember the care 
 of your health, — how important it is ! Do less in 
 order to do more, is not advice necessary to many 
 people, but it is to you." 
 
 "TO THE REV. E. A. BRAY. 
 
 " Reading, Nov. \3th, 1815. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " I have received your letter with great 
 pleasure, and particularly so as you speak favour-
 
 XLI.] Ll.TTtRS OF MR. MATllIAS. 325 
 
 ably of your health, and that you are convinced of 
 the necessity of sparing yourself, and of taking that 
 care of yourself which may have a tendency to 
 strengthen your constitution. Too much fatigue of 
 application is generally fatal in its consequences, and 
 rather retards what it is so desirable to promote. I 
 am glad the little volume I sent you came safe, as I 
 know you are an admirer of the great poet, and I 
 wished that you should have the delineation of his 
 extensive and diversified erudition added to the 
 exertions of his genius. 
 
 " You are very good in offering me the sight of 
 your alterations or adaptations of the sermons of 
 some of our elder divines, but 1 really am not a suf- 
 ficient judge of the propriety of such an undertaking, 
 and would by no means take upon me such a deci- 
 sion, and therefore must leave it to your judgment. 
 I said in my last letter what I thought, and that it 
 was something hazardous to amend that nervous and 
 antique eloquence which distinguishes Jeremy Tay- 
 lor, Barrow, and their fellows ; but to abridge their 
 discourses, by omissions, where they are prolix and 
 diffuse, might be done to advantage. I believe it is 
 a most useful and improving exercise for you or 
 any man of talents and ingenuity for their own 
 private use or advantage, and occasionally to preach 
 some of them contracted in this manner ; but to pub- 
 lish them requires a pause or a consideration. Some 
 expressions of Cicero may be applied to these great 
 writers. Of cither of them it may be said: ' Quis 
 gravior in laudendo? in vituperando acerbior? in 
 sententiis argutior ? in docendo edisserendoque sub- 
 tihor ? quem florem aut quod lumen eloquent iai non 
 habet? A nt iquio r intcrdnm est scrmo, et qurcdam 
 forsan honidiora verba ; ita enimtunc loqucbantur.'
 
 326 LETTERS OF MR. MATHIAS. [lET. 
 
 " Single icords here and there ma}: be altered with 
 effect, and perhaps very long sentences might (with 
 great judgment and counsel of the ear, the aurium 
 fastidium) be broken into more than one, and the 
 effect not only preserved but heightened. It is the 
 same with the language and st^le of the translation 
 of the Bible, as it stands at present. I never yet 
 saw any new version or alteration of it which 
 (though it might more fully explain the meaning of 
 the original in some few instances) did not detract 
 from the majesty and the simplicity of our great 
 
 translation, which is, and will be, with the 
 
 the standard of the English in its original strength, 
 energy, and dignity. But on this point there are 
 diversities of opinion ; but I never could change my 
 own on this subject. What you have done has been 
 of infinite use to yourself and to your hearers ; but 
 I am merely speaking in a critical point of view, and 
 as to the general effect, when such A\Titings are sub- 
 mitted to the public eye, and not as discourses de- 
 livered from the pulpit. But pray collect the judg- 
 ment of your friends ; I only have said my o^^^^ 
 private thoughts, with the sincerest approbation of 
 your lionourable and useful diligence, which cannot 
 fail of its best reward. 
 
 " I shall ahvays be happy to hear of your welfare, 
 and cannot but cherish an expectation, as well as a 
 hope, that you may soon obtain that promotion in 
 yovu- profession, to which your labours and the piety 
 of your exertions justly entitle you. 
 
 " Believe me always, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours most faithfully, 
 
 " T. J. Mathias. 
 
 " P. S. I shall return to town in a few days."
 
 XLI.] LETTER OF MR. BRAY. 327 
 
 I find, with the above letter, the rough copy of an 
 
 ansAA'er to it so connected with the subject, that I am 
 
 sure 3'ou will agree wiih. me that it ought not to be 
 
 omitted : — 
 
 " TO T. J. MATHIAS, Esu. 
 
 « Tavistock, Dec. 7th, 1815. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " I DELAYED AATitiug in hopcs of having an 
 opportunity of saving you the expense, if not the 
 trouble, of a letter. But, being disappointed, I can 
 no longer refrain from thanking you for your friendly 
 attention to my last. No one can feel greater ad- 
 miration for the language of oiu- Bible translation 
 than myself I am so sensible of its euphony that, 
 in reading it, I try to give effect to every letter, not 
 alterinjj: even a dnefh into doth. Mv estimation of 
 the book of Common Prayer is little less. And next 
 to these every true churchman must venerate the 
 Homilies. Now the Bishop of Lincoln, in his ' Ele- 
 ments of Christian Theology,' vol. ii. p. 537, recom- 
 mends the select Homilies ' rendered in a modern 
 style,' which have been published by Sir A. Gordon. 
 Surely there is more presumption in this than in 
 alterino- the lano-viao-e of anv of our old divines. But 
 as I have always considered you as an instrument in 
 the hands of Providence that placed me in my pre- 
 sent situation, so I still am willing to believe that I 
 am to learn, through you, that my plan had better 
 be laid aside, or at any rate for the present be post- 
 poned ; and siu-ely, whoever publishes sermons should 
 be actuated, not by his own wishes, but the will of 
 God. 
 
 " I thank you for your kind opinion, that I am not 
 undeserving cathedral preferment, but the interest of
 
 32S LETTER OF MR. BRAY. [lET. 
 
 the Duke of Bedford lies not in that direction ; and, 
 indeed, when I consider his numerous famil}^ I have 
 reason to think that I have akeady experienced the 
 extent of his Grace's patronage. I am convinced, 
 also, that I have already more than I deserve ; but if 
 anything would excite my ambition for such a si- 
 tuation, it would be that I should then have greater 
 opportunities than I now enjoy of following your 
 recommendation in applying for advice to my friends 
 (by such I understand clerical brethren), who are 
 generally pretty numerovis, as indeed they ought to 
 be, in the neighbourhood of a bishop's palace. But 
 even this I shall be well content to forego, if you will 
 permit me occasionally to consult yourself. 
 " I remain, my dear Sir, &c. &c. 
 
 "E. A. Bray."
 
 xLii.] 329 
 
 LETTER XLII. 
 
 TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Contents : — Some omitted notices, wherefore here added — Roborough 
 Down — Anecdote of a sailor's good fortune — Story of one who was 
 more cautious than wise — Kilworthy — Tiddebrook — Horrabridge — 
 Huckworthy — Walkhampton — Morwel House; all picturesque 
 places — Hill Bridge — Kelly — Ancient stained glass — Saxon cof- 
 fin — Ramsdown Common — Kairns — Sortridge — Judge Glanville 
 and his lady — Their portraits discovered — An old chest — Holwell — 
 Picturesque scenery — Conclusion. 
 
 J'icaruge, Tavistock, Oct. 23</, 1835. 
 My dear Sill, 
 
 In the multiplicity of papers, journals, &c., 
 ^\'ritten by Mr. Bray, that I have had to consult in 
 the progress of these letters, interrupted as were my 
 pursuits by ill liealth and many pressing avocations, 
 it is not wonderful that some things shovdd have 
 escaped me that ought to have been noticed in for- 
 mer communications. As my letters to you are 
 now nearly printed, it is too late entirely to remedy 
 these omissions. But a few brief extracts from 
 Mr. Bray's journals, concerning places of interest 
 in our more immediate vicinity, must not be left 
 out. Here, then, I give them, relying on your kind 
 consideration to excuse what has been an error of 
 oversight, not of intention. 
 
 In the road from Tavistock to Plymouth the 
 traveller passes over a high tract of land, command- 
 ing some most delightful views, called Roborougli
 
 330 ROBOROUGH DOWN. [lET. 
 
 Down, where is situated that remarkable insulated 
 rock, of superstitious import, which I chose as the 
 scene of an adventure in my tale before alluded to. 
 Concerning this spot, Mr. Bray has recorded in 
 one of his old journals some amusing particulars. 
 "This rock being of a large size, and insidated in 
 the midst of an extensive down, is in itself remark- 
 able ; but more so from the following circumstance 
 that is said to have happened there not many years 
 ago. A sailor going from Tavistock to join his 
 ship at Plymouth, sat down to rest himself in one 
 of the hollows of the rock, and insensibly fell asleep. 
 On Avaking he continued his journey, but found he 
 had left his purse behind him. He had not time, 
 however, to return for it; and after having made a 
 voyage to the East Indies, on again passing the 
 spot, three years after, he had the curiosity to look 
 for his purse ; which to his surprise, as well as joy, 
 he was so fortunate as to recover. 
 
 " Another singular circumstance is said to have 
 happened on this down. A blacksmith of Tavi- 
 stock, on taking home a jack that he had repaired, 
 was benighted. Finding that his burden retarded 
 his progress, and recollecting he had heard that if 
 you set a watch over a thing it is perfectly safe, he 
 was so ignorant as to give a wrong interpretation 
 to it ; and taking out his own watch, actually left 
 it with the jack by the roadside. Early on the 
 foUowing morning, probably before any one had 
 passed, he returned to the spot, and found that 
 neither of them had been carried oif, attributing it, 
 no doubt, to the efficacy of the preventive." 
 
 Tvespecting Kilworthy, before slightly noticed, 
 Mr. Bray makes the following observations in his
 
 XLII.] KILWORTHY. 331 
 
 journal : — " It is about a mile and a half from Tavi- 
 stock. Though somewhat moflcrnized, it still re- 
 tains features of the ancient structure. And there, 
 too, may yet be found some vestiges of the old style 
 of gardening, when uniformity was the sole object 
 of attention, and when the straight, formal terrace 
 was prefcred to the more natural diversity of an 
 undulating surface. A few walnut and beech trees, 
 of great apparent antiqviity, are seen about the 
 house ; and the rarity, if not total absence of the 
 former in the neio-hbourhood renders them still 
 more remarkable. There are also other trees, prin- 
 cipally firs, which, from being so thick together, 
 seem to have been planted more for shelter than 
 effect. And though from its elevated situation it 
 is certainly exposed, the hand of taste, by judici- 
 ousl}^ thinning them, might let in some of the dis- 
 tant scenery, particularly the bold rocky tors of 
 Dartmoor, without much sacrifice of comfort. At 
 the bottom of a descent from the house is some 
 pleasing sylvan scenery, which re([uires no art to 
 make additions to its beauties. The Walla Brook, 
 immortalized by Browne, is here surmounted with a 
 little foot bridge, and as the key-stone represents 
 a laureated head, one might be allowed, perhaps, to 
 fancy it was in honour of this too-much nei^-lected 
 bard, whose sweetness of numbers was truly re- 
 markable in an age when harshness and discord- 
 ancy seem to have been studiously affected. The 
 episode of the 'Loves of the Walla and the Tavy' 
 is the most pleasing of all his compositions ; though 
 it may be objected, perhaps, that it is too Ovidian. 
 
 '' I ma}^ here also notice Tiddcbrook, situated 
 about a mile and a half from our town, on the old
 
 332 TIDDEBROOK AND HORRABRIDGE, [lKT. 
 
 Plymouth road. It is a curious aucicnt building, 
 having its porch carried up in the form of a tower, 
 embattled at the top. The rest of the structure 
 has the appearance of little better than a farm 
 house. It probably belonged to the abbey ; but I 
 have not been able to collect any information re- 
 specting it. 
 
 "About a mile farther is the village of Horra- 
 brido-e, above mentioned, which receives its name 
 from a bridge of three pointed arches of irregular 
 size ; it is picturesque when viewed from the road, 
 where some fine old trees throw their feathery 
 branches across the stream. 
 
 " The scenery at Iluckworthy also well repays the 
 trouble, not to say danger, of the descent that leads 
 to it. A bridge of two arclies crosses a rapid stream ; 
 but I was vexed to find that a great deal of the 
 ivy tliat used to hang in festoons from the top of 
 these arches had been stripped off. Above the 
 brido-e is a mill, the water from which, white with 
 foam, falls into a pool, from its depth, of the blackest 
 colour. Below it is the machinery of a mine, which 
 crosses the river; and the wheel, in perpetual mo- 
 tion, is one of large diameter. The hill I had just 
 descended, with some cottages interspersed amid 
 wood, presented a striking object, and the varied 
 outline of Dartmoor tors formed a pleasing horizon 
 to complete the picture. 
 
 " Kesolving to explore the river at another oppor- 
 tunity, I proceeded to the village of Walkhampton, 
 and finding there nothing worthy attention, deter- 
 mined to pay a visit to the church. This is situ- 
 ated at some distance from the village, on an 
 elevated spot ; and being surrounded with fields
 
 XLII.] MORWEL HOUSE. 333 
 
 inclosed with stone liedpres, I had great difficuhj'- 
 to find my way to it. The pinnacles of the tower 
 are remarkably elegant, having- a hind of corona or 
 battlement, out of which they spring in a taper 
 form, enriched Avith well-defined ornaments, and 
 surmounted with a cross of the same material. 
 The view from the churchyard is strikingly grand, 
 commanding a great extent of country, of which the 
 bold tors of Dartmoor form no inconsiderable part. 
 
 " Morwel House, in this neighbourhood, deserves 
 some mention, as it Avas formerly the hunting-seat 
 of the Abbot of Tavistock : it is a quadrangular 
 building, in the Gothic style ; the gateway very 
 similar to those of the abbey : it has a groined 
 ceiling of freestone, which appears to have been 
 plastered over and washed with yellow." 
 
 Of that most delightful scene, Flill Bridge, I find 
 the following notice in ^Ir. Bray's Joiu'nal: — 
 
 " About a mile from Peter Tav}- is Cudlipp 
 Town, The road runs aloncr the ridii'c of the 
 steep that hangs over the Tavy, on the opposite 
 banks of which, well covered with foliage, is a strik- 
 ing view of some bold rocks, projecting from a 
 shelving wood. They are cahed Brimhill Tors. 
 Cudlipp Town is a small scattered Aillage, through 
 which passes the road that leads to Hill Bridge, 
 about a mile distant. The tors beyond it form the 
 finest outline (being varied in point of size and 
 distance, and rough with rocks on their summits) 
 of -any series of heights in Devonshire. 
 
 "Hill Bridge is well worthy attention from its 
 singularity, being composed of four perfectly flat 
 arches, if I may be allowed the expression, formed 
 of long flat stones placed side by side, with their
 
 334 HILL BRIDGE. [lET. 
 
 ends resting on the piers. The parapet is but ten 
 or twelve indies hig-h. made merely by similar stones 
 lying along \ipon the others. It is one of the sim- 
 plest bridges I almost ever saw, and quite in har- 
 mony with the surrounding scene. Below it the 
 ■water is dammed back by a weir, for the purpose 
 of carrying a leet to Wheel Friendship ^line. At 
 some distance higher up the stream, another leet is 
 taken up for another mine adjoining." 
 
 Notes on excursions in the neicrhbourhood of 
 Tavistock : — 
 
 '' KELLY. 
 
 '• On the 3d of July. 1833. having lately visited 
 it as Dean Rural. 1 took ^Irs. Bray to see the 
 painted glass in the church at Kelly : Avhich, though 
 much mutilated, is by far the best, and most in cpian- 
 tity of any^ in this vicinity. On mentioning it to 
 Mr. Johnes, of Bradstone, he told me that some of 
 my old friends, now no more, of the Kelly family, used 
 to amuse themselves, when l)oys, with what they 
 called shying at the heads of the Apostles. And 
 certainly one of the windows gives proofs of it : for 
 there are two. if not three fiirures. on which instead 
 of heads, a modern glazier has inserted as many 
 round pieces of plain glass : so that these young 
 iconoclasts seem to have shown some skill in the 
 decollation of these martyrs. And here, too, the 
 glazier showed more skill, or at least more taste, 
 than in other parts of these windows, where, pro- 
 bably, as the pieces best suited in point of size, he 
 has not hesitated to join part of the limbs of one 
 figure with that of another, arms and legs promis- 
 cuou.sly sprouting from different parts of the body.
 
 XLII.] KELLY, 335 
 
 the former often resting on the ground, and the latter 
 in tlie air. Some of the borders, consistino^ of llowers 
 and foUage. arc of the most tasteful patterns and 
 delicate execution. Were the moss on the outside 
 carefully removed, the colours would be the most 
 brilliant within. 
 
 "Workmen Avere emplo3-ed in talcing down the 
 south porch, in order to build a vestry. In removing 
 the pavement, they found immediately under it a 
 stone coffin, probably Saxon. It is rather remark- 
 able that, on visiting it a few days before, as Dean 
 Kural, I said to one of the workmen, who informed 
 me that the porch was to be taken down, that the 
 arch had somewhat the appearance of being Saxon, 
 though certainly of a very rude description, and that 
 possibly it might be as well to preserve the stones, 
 and use them in the same form, for the entrance of 
 the vestry. Over the inner arch was a small corbel or 
 bracket, which the workmen told me ^Ir. Johnes, who 
 had lately been there, seemed to think might have 
 supported the figure of the person buried beneath, 
 and that he might have been the founder of the 
 church. However this maybe, the coffin is certainly 
 of great antiquity, haA"ing a recess for the head, and 
 is of the foUowinu" form : — 
 
 " It is of freestone, five feet eleven inches in length, 
 seventeen inches across the shoulders, sixteen in the 
 breast, and nine at the feet. 
 
 " On our return, we obscryed some heaps of 
 stones and of earth in a field near the road, and, 
 getting out of the carriage, went to examine them.
 
 336 SORTRIDGE. [lET. 
 
 in order to decide wliethcr they \Yere only such, or 
 kairns and barrows. Which of these they are I am 
 still, however, unable to determine ; but I am most 
 inclined to believe that they are monuments of anti- 
 quitv, and not burrows for rabbits, or heaps of 
 stones accumulated from clearing the ground; for the 
 iield has been not many years since inclosed from 
 Eam's Down Common ; and stones instead of being 
 there collected toirether since the iuclosure, have 
 probably been removed thence to make the adjoining 
 road. Indeed many of the rocks are of too great 
 dimensions to have thus been removed for the pur- 
 poses of agriculture. The kairns or heaps of stones 
 are two in number. Of the barrows there are 
 eleven ; one twenty-three paces in circumference. 
 As far as I then had the opportunity of examining, 
 they were Y)rinciY)alh-. if not entirely composed of 
 earth. It is not improbable, therefore, that a battle 
 was fought on this common, and that these are the 
 memorials of it : the kairns mioht have been for the 
 chieftains, and tlie barrows for their followers who 
 fell in the battle. 
 
 "SORTRIDGK. 
 
 " On the first of August, 1833, we went to Sor- 
 Iridge, having understood that the picture of Judge 
 Glanvillc was th.ere which formerlv belonged to my 
 father. The information was not correct; but we 
 found there not only a picture of the judge, but also 
 of his lady. The former bore on it 
 
 '^.tatis SU80 55.' The latter, ' yEtatis suae 54.' 
 1598 1598. 
 
 1727 1728.' 
 
 " Hence we collected that the pictures were ori- 
 ginally painted in tlie former year, and retouched, or 
 rather re-painted in the latter. Indeed, we were
 
 XLII.] OLD PICTURES. 337 
 
 informed that, not many 3-ears ago, a mere boy was 
 suffered to show his skill in restoring them; and 
 they certainly bear most decisive proofs of each of 
 these operations. Dame Glanville could never have 
 been handsome ; but these disfigurements, by mak- 
 mg allowance for them, may possibly make us think 
 that she was handsomer than she was. She appears 
 to have been fond of finery, and this perhaps she 
 thouijht would be a substitute for bcautv. She had 
 many rings on her fingers, and, suspended under her 
 ruff, an immense gold chain. 
 
 " In a passage near the entrance porch is a curious 
 old chest, which, owing to its gloomy situation, we 
 could not very minutely examine. V^e observed that 
 there were many figures in armour, very similar to 
 those that are represented in the triumphs of Maxi- 
 milian. I am in doubt whether they are painted, 
 or rather drawn, in outline, or bvirnt in. Though 
 the surface is flat, they almost appear to be in relief, 
 from the circumstance that the backgrormd, or rather 
 sky, is cut away and reticulated. I at last distin- 
 guished a youth swinging a sword over his head; 
 and, observing a king seated near, conjectured that 
 it might be Da\id essaying his armour. Of this I 
 was afterwards convinced, when we found him, in a 
 second compartment, with his sling in his hand; and 
 in a third, with the head of Goliath. 
 
 " In one of my former excursions, I crossed V.liit- 
 church Down, leaving Holwell at my left hand, and, 
 passing near a couple of cottages, which I was in- 
 formed by a friend were called East and West St. 
 Martin's, and probably belonged to the Abbey, pro- 
 ceeded towards Huckworthy bridge. ISIy object was 
 now to explore the upper part of the river ; and I 
 
 VOL. III. Q
 
 338 SCENERY ON THE WALKHAM. [lET. 
 
 accordingly, after passing the bridge, turned up the 
 lane leading to the left, towards the moor. The 
 scenery here is so strikingly wild and picturesque 
 that I do not recollect having seen any more so in 
 South Wales, which I visited about seven or eight 
 years ago. The view is up a valley of considerable 
 extent, through which flows in a rapid and winding 
 course the river Walkham. The hills on each side 
 are bold and steep, possessing every variety of rock 
 and wood ; with here and there tracts of cultivation, 
 the hedges being so irregular as to add a pleasing 
 intricacy to the scene. This is interspersed occa- 
 sionally with patches of furze in blossom ; and en- 
 livened with the ascending smoke of a few scattered 
 cottages in the most romantic situations. 
 
 " I had never seen the tors of Dartmoor to such 
 advantage ; as I had been mostly accustomed to 
 behold them without any other foreground than the 
 barren moor itself ; where the eye, in going from 
 one tor to another, must pass over the same un- 
 varied blank, unrelieved even by a change of coloiu\ 
 But here, beyond the summit of a hill clothed with 
 the finest Avood, peered the still loftier heights of 
 the rocky tors fading into aerial blue. At every 
 step they seemed to lose themselves, or to burst 
 abruptly to the sight where they were least expected. 
 Indeed they appeared occasionally to change their 
 situations, and sometimes to be nearer, at others at 
 a greater distance, as the intervening objects were 
 more or less numerous, or nearer or less diversified. 
 
 " There is this advantage, also, that as the valley 
 may be said almost to run up between them, they 
 nearly surround it, and are, therefore, more grouped 
 together, or thrown more into perspective. Vixen
 
 XLTI.] FURZETOWN. 339 
 
 Tor, which I had ahvays admired, even in its insu- 
 lated situation, being a vast mass of rock standing 
 on a narrow base, here shows itself with still more 
 imposing grandeur, as it forms the principal object, 
 where all arovmd are striking. The flitting: lio-hts 
 added considerably to the effect ; a gleam of sun- 
 shine sometimes illuminating a rock or a cottage, 
 that otherwise might have escaped attention, 
 
 " For about a mile and a half my eye was fixed 
 upon this fascinating scene, though, from the inter- 
 vening hedge, it seemed as if I was looking through 
 a moving trellis. For a considerable distance the 
 hedge is covered below witli hollies, and above with 
 the thick branches of ash and other trees ; so tliat I 
 am convinced a great deal of the scenery must be 
 lost to the traveller in the summer; but then, in 
 recompense, what he does see must be doubly grati* 
 fying, not only from its being clothed in superior 
 beauty, but even from the abruptness with which it 
 must occasionally burst upon him. 
 
 " There is one spot, near a deep ravine worn with 
 the floods, which now, however, was perfectly drj"-, 
 where the valley must always be seen to the greatest 
 perfection, as there is nothing to obstruct the view, 
 and yet enough may be found to form a foreground. 
 Some neighbouring cottages also gave it additional 
 animation. A little cluster of these, which I under- 
 stood was called Furzetown, were most of them of a 
 singularly grotesque form ; raised amid large rocks, 
 some of which not only served as foundations, but 
 actually jutted out of the walls of which they formed 
 a part. I was surprised to find so much wood im- 
 mediately in the neighbourhood of the moor. One 
 of these cottages had a kind of irregular avenue, 
 
 q2
 
 340 TREE BRIDGE. 
 
 near wliicli ran a little rocky stream, overhung with 
 trees of the most fantastic shapes. One in parti- 
 cular drew my attention, that had apparently fallen 
 across it, and whose lateral branches had formed 
 themselves into young trees." 
 
 So conclude the extracts from Mr. Bray's journals, 
 which it appeared to me desirable should be here 
 added, in order to render complete former cursory 
 notices of many places in our vicinity. Sincerely 
 hoping that it may not be long ere I shall have the 
 gratification of accompanying you to them, allow me 
 to remain. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 Ever most respectfully and faithfully yours, 
 
 Anna E. Bray.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 THE VOLUMES ARE INDICATED BY HOMAN NUMERALS— THE 
 PAGES BY ARABIC FIGURES. 
 
 The Abbey of Tavistock, the glorj- of the town, i. 15. Imposing 
 character of abbeys and monasteries, ii. 76 ; evil consequences of 
 the dissolution of abbeys, 101 ; sites of particular offices in the ruias 
 of abbeys, 1 15, note ; romantic sites of abbeys, 144, 
 
 Abbot of Tavistock, by what title called to the House of Lords, i.250. 
 Succession of the abbots of Tavistock dov/n to the suppression, 
 iii. 291. 
 
 Aboriginal inhabitants of the West, vestiges of, i. 15. 
 
 Absalom's memorial, ii. 152, note. 
 
 Adam, its signification in Hebrew, i, 306, note. 
 
 Adams, Mr., prognostication of the effects of the French revolution, 
 iii.213. 
 
 Adams, Miss Jlary, the great legendary depository, i. 263, note. Con- 
 duct of Saunders, ii. 109; her character and death, 316, note. 
 
 Adders, mode of charming them, i. 95 ; the adder of what a sym- 
 bol, ^7. 
 
 Adoration, universality of the sun as an object of, i. 56. 
 
 Adventure, romantic, i. 296. 
 
 j^^schylus, beautiful allegory of, ii. 12. 
 
 Affliction, tales of, iii. 177. 
 
 Age, a tree's, discovered by its rings, i. 103. 
 
 Aggeration, process of, in forming the tors, i. 228 and note. 
 
 Ahab, grove made by, i. 91. 
 
 Aikin, Dr., distich on, i. 88. 
 
 Air Tor, i. 277. 
 
 Akenside, allusion to his hymn to the Naiads, i. 89. 
 
 Alfred the Great, reasons for considering an inscribed stone com- 
 memorative of, i. '377, et seq. ; his translation of Boethius when 
 printed, 3S0, note. Wisdom of, in his municipal imlity, ii. 16. 
 
 Alfred, son of Ethelred, commiseration for, at his death, ii. 89. 
 
 Alfricus, his charge against Livingus, ii. 89 ; his arlfid conduct, 90. 
 
 Algarus, account of, ii. 60, 63. 
 
 Aimer, first abbot of Tavistock, ii. 58. 
 
 Almighty, under what name worshipped by the ancient Britons, i. 56. 
 
 Alphabet, Greek, letters of, those used by the Druids, i. 49. 
 
 Alpine bridge, miniature, described, iii. 264. 
 
 Altars, Drviidical, i. 25,
 
 342 INDEX. 
 
 Amber beads, worn as a wreath on the brows of Hengist, i. 143. 
 
 Ambrosius, Merlin's original name, i. 80, note. 
 
 Amesburj-, or Ambresbury, its origin, i. 80, note. 
 
 Amulets, glass, of Scotland, i. 97. 
 
 Anacharsis. reply of, i. 254. 
 
 Anecdote of Charles II.. i. 4. 
 
 Aneurin's description of the ceremonial procession sacred to thp 
 
 British Bacchus, i. 141. 
 Angelic hierarchy, grades of, ii. 118. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon monasteries, holiness and superstition of, ii. 97. 
 Animals of Dartmoor, account of, i. .338. 
 Antiquarians, credulity of, i. 377. 
 Antiquities of Darmioor, devastations of^'i. 52, 53; British, of Wist- 
 
 man's Wood, 104, 105. 
 Antiquity, reflections on a due reverence for, ii. 74 ; pleasures result- 
 ing from a contemplation of, 75. 
 Antonio, curious story of the christening of a child by this name, 
 
 iii. 161. 
 Apple-tree, ceremony of saluting, i. 335. 
 Arcedekne, Le, a benefactor of Tavistock Abbey, ii. 87 ; Odo, grant 
 
 of Westly-down, 93. 
 Arch, ruined, described, ii. h2. 
 Arch-Druid, awe inspired by his presence, i. 227. 
 Architecture, to what species granite best suited,!. 283. 
 Arkite mysteries, traces of, i. 97 : notices of the ceremonies, \Ab,note ; 
 
 mythological ark of Noah, 148. 
 Arras and hangings discriminated, iii. 82. 
 Arscot, Mr., i. 322. 
 Arthur, mythological, i. 143. His character and mythological renown, 
 
 ii. 84. 
 Arthur's stone on Cevyn Bryn, i. 126 ; design of the stone, 145, note. 
 Arthur's seat, i. 276 ; King Arthur's Oven, what, 298. 
 Arts, noble employment of, by our forefathers, in the construction of 
 
 ecclesiastical edifices, ii. 76. 
 Ashen twig, pagan notion of its power, i. 95 ; origin of, 96, 97. 
 Ashtaroth, groves dedicated to, i. 101. 
 
 Athenians, judicious selection by, of romantic sites fiT temples, ii. 144. 
 Atkynses, account of, iii. 189. 
 Avenue, extensive Druidical, described, i. 164. 
 
 Augury, Druidical, i. 59,01 ; universality of the superstition of augury 
 in the earliest ages, 150 ; probable origin of the confidence in au- 
 guries from the feathered tribes, 151. 
 
 — , probable origin of augurj- by the entrails of human beings 
 
 and animals, ii. 1 2 ; abolished by the preaching of the gospel, ib. 
 Augustine friars, their distinguishujg habit, ii. 51 ; remark on their 
 expulsion, 58 ; the Augustme order a favourite with the family of 
 the Earl of Devon, 62, iiote. 
 
 B. 
 
 Baal, or Bei, idolatrous worship of, i. 91 ; horses given to, 92. 
 Bacchus of the Druids, i. 53; solemn procession to, 141. 
 Back-see-fore-see, side of Vixen Tor, iii. 278, and note.
 
 INDEX. 343 
 
 Badger of Devon, notice of, i. 343. 
 
 Bair-down, conjectural meaning of, i. 57 ; the hill of bards^ 69 ; 
 general description of the localitj-, 70, e/ «e(?.; inscriptions on the 
 granite, 70. 391 ; beautiful ravine, 71 ; remai-ks on the etymology 
 of Bair-down, rural inscriptions, &c., 72 ; Wistman's Wood, 73 ; 
 British monument on Bair-down, 105; ancient sepulchre, 393; 
 Bair-dowu Man, 394. 
 
 Baking, ancient British, mode of, i. 299,wo/e. 
 
 Banham, John, the mitred abbot of Tavistock, ii. 97. 
 
 Bard, derived from bur, a fury, i. 7b. 
 
 Bardic alphabet, specimen of, i. 78. 
 
 Bards, ancient, of Britain, i. 44, et seq. ; testimony of Tacitus to their 
 eminence in eloquence and poetry, 47 ; last refuge of the British 
 bards, 106 ; existence in places when extinct elsewhere, ib.; genius 
 and character of the bards, 107 ; last vestige of them in the wood 
 ofWistman, 108. 
 
 Baretti, characterized, ii. 270 ; story of the old woman, 272. Charac- 
 ter of Butcher, the ' bashaw ' of Tavistock, iii. 137. 
 
 Barrier, stones anciently used for, in the celebration of public games, 
 i. 366. 
 
 Bairows, on Steimen hill, i. 121 ; purposes and contents of barrows, 
 149; on Mis-tor, 247 ; description of a large circular one, 298 ; 
 discovery of ancient barrows at Kelly, 335, 336. 
 
 Basaltic phenomena between Cana and Turan. i. 115, 116, note. 
 
 Basin, rock, on Dartmoor, i. 53 ; on the summit of Vixen-tor, 62; on 
 Longford-tor, 120 ; account of the discovery of two on Vixen-tor, 
 217: account of others, and purposes to which applied by the 
 Druids, 386, et seq. 
 
 Bat, horned, story of, i. 323. 
 
 Beacon, ancient, notice of, i. 251. 
 
 Beauty, female, of the peasantry of Cornwall and Devon, iii. 107. 
 
 Bedford Arms, notice of, iii. 153. 
 
 Bedford, Duke of. extirpation of the deer by his stag-hounds, i. 340, 
 Tioie. Lands of the Abbey of Tavistock granted to his ancestors 
 at (he dissolution, ii. 97 ; notice of the grant, and of the Bedford 
 family, 103 ; donation by the Duke of Bedford of a peel of bells 
 and an organ, 127, and note. Donation to Mary Colling, iii. 133; 
 yearly sum for which the parish estates of Tavistock were vested in 
 the Duke of Bedford in 1761, 137, 7tote ; amount of pension or free 
 gift, and handsome house for the vicar built by the present duke, 
 141, 7tote ; patron of the public library, 146; William, the first 
 Duke of Bedford, built a house for the schoolmaster, 166 ; Duke 
 of Bedford's road described, 279, 280. 
 
 Beer-shop, recent nuisance of, i. 279. 
 
 Beer-stone, fragment of, i. 382. 
 
 Beetor. South, i. 258. 
 
 Bel, the god of the sun, i. 92 ; immolation of human victims to, 
 111; hiirh festival of the <;od on the first of Mav, 325. 
 
 Bel-tor, of Dartmoor, i. 57 ; description of, 258 ; derivation of its name, 
 lb. note. 
 
 Bell, passing, ancient belief respecting, ii. 127. 
 
 Beloe. i\Ir., his manuscript copy of complimentary poems addressed 
 to William Browne, iii. 14.
 
 344 INDEX. 
 
 Benedict, account of, ii. 69 ; legendary tales of, 70, 71. 
 
 Benedictines, always clad in blaik, ii. 51 ; remark on their incredible 
 increase, 61 ; tiibtite to their learning, 65 ; remarks on the order, 
 69; story of a poor Benedictine at St. Omer's, 73 ; account of their 
 attire and benevolence, 97, 99. 
 
 Betsey Grimbal's tower, described, ii. Ill ; picturesque ruins of, 143 ; 
 its situation, 151; story of Betsey Grimlj;il, 319. 
 
 Beautiful and wild, durability of impressions from the, iii. 271. 
 
 Bible, the preservation and revival of learning indebted to, ii. G8. 
 Euphony of its language, iii. 327. 
 
 Bible ;md the Key, custom of discovering a suspected thief by, ii. 294. 
 
 Birds of Dartmoor, notice of, i. 59, GG ; birds still considered as omens 
 of good and evil, 150; various birds of Devon enmnerated and de- 
 scribed, 319 ; Mr. Johms's accoxmt of the birds of Dartmoor, 345. 
 Concert of birds poetically described, iii. 21. 
 
 Bishoprics, jjlurality of, in iavingus, ii. 88. 
 
 Bishops of Devonshire, sui-cession of, ii. 14. Motives of the outcry 
 against the bishops in Charles l.'s time, iii. 30. 
 
 Blackbird, moor, described, i. 60. 
 
 Blackbirds, anecdotes of, ii. 145. 
 
 Blount, Martha, her treatment of Pope, iii. 305. 
 
 Blue robes of the lawyers of the ancient Britons, i. 50. 
 
 Boadicea, i. 129. 
 
 Bob, black-headed, notice of, i. 320. 
 
 Boothius de Consolatione Philosophiae, notice of the early edition of, 
 ii. 133. 
 
 Bogs on Dartmoor, i. 167. 
 
 Bones, gigantic, discovered, ii. 113. 
 
 Borlase, cited, his opinion of the probable uses of the rock-basins, i. 
 218 ; and of the purposes of the tolmen, 243. 
 
 Botanical books, of interest only to botanists, i. 315 ; botany of Devon, 
 316,317. 
 
 Bourgeois, Sir Francis, notes concerning, iii. 307. 
 
 Bowls, Druidical, devastation of, i. 53, 54, 292. 
 
 Braddock Down, battle of, iii. 38. 
 
 Bray, Mr., unexpected adventure of, i. 8 ; Bair-down enclosed by, 69, 
 
 , Rev. Mr., projecte<l history of Tavistock, i. 3 ; collection of in- 
 scriptions Ironi, 79 — -89; extracts from his journal, Crockern-tor, 
 114; Longford-tor, 120; Dcnnabridge Pound, 128; description of 
 the stone-circles, 158; cromlechs, 164; poetical description of a 
 fairy car by Mr. Bray, 179 ; account of a visit to Vixen-tor, &c., 
 212, 220, el seij. ; to Sheeps-tor, 232 ; description of Klford's cavern, 
 235 ; souice of the Tavy, 256 ; letter addressed to his wife concern- 
 ing the inscribed obelisk, 359, et seq. ; excursion on Dartmoor to 
 Over-t(,r, 385. 
 
 notice of his theological labours, ii. 106, note ; his account 
 
 of the remains of Tavistock Abbey, 108, et seq.; verandah and 
 garden inscriptions, 149, el seq, 
 
 biography of Mr. Bray, the authoress's husband, iii. 188, et 
 
 seq.; anecdotes of his childhood, 192, 193; pronounced a jioet by 
 a pliy-siognomist, 195; put to school at Moretou Ilampstead, 196; 
 his devotion to poetry, 204; his aptitude for learning languages, 
 and pursuits in London, 205 ; his commission as captain-lieutenant
 
 INDEX. 345 
 
 in the Royal Devon Miners, 206 ; meets the king (then Duke of 
 Clarence) at a jmrty, ib-, note ; enters as a student of the Middle 
 Temple, "207; a contributor to the 'Classical Journal,' 217; emi- 
 nent jiersons with whom he became acquainted, with their characters, 
 and anecdotes. 208, el seq ; his Vers de Socicte, 21 S; poems by Mr. 
 Bray, 219 — 232; goes the western circuit, and his timidity as a 
 barrister, 234 ; named the Casii/iaii, ih.; legal opinion on the case 
 of a will, 23') ; quits the bar, 236 ; his friendship with Mr, Mathias, 
 237; enters the church, and ordained by the Bishop of Norwich, 
 238; anecdote of the old artillery-man, 239; his love for the arts, 
 ib. ; his theological duties and works, 240 ; notice of his > Lyric 
 Hymns,' with extracts. 241, et seq. ; remarks on his projected 
 edition of Bishop Taylor's Sermons, 316, 324 ; letter to Mr. Mathias 
 on the euphony of the Bible, and on the Homilies, &c., 327 ; ad- 
 ditional extracts from hs journal, 329. 
 
 Bray, Mrs., desire to wash her hands in one of the basins, i. 385 ; 
 rock-basin discovered by, 386. Lines on the wood-dove, ii. 154. 
 
 Brazen-tor, i. 308. 
 
 Breast Laws of the Isle of Man, i. 50. 
 
 Brent-tor, account of, i. 250; signification of Brent, 250, 251 ; vol- 
 canic, 308. 
 
 Bridge, Alpine, in miniature, described, iii. 264, 205. 
 
 Bridges, primitive, i. 153; ancient British Cyclopean bridge, 299. 
 
 Britannia's Pastorals, of Browne, at what age published, iii, 7. See 
 Br-owne. 
 
 Britons, idolatrous worship of, i, 56. 
 
 Bronscombe, Bishop of Exeter, donations to the Abbey of Tavistock, 
 ii, 94 ; notice of his tomb, ib., note. 
 
 Brooks, described, ii. 166. 
 
 Browne, William, the poet, author of 'Britannia's Pastorals,' notice 
 of, ii. 6 ; lines on his birth-place,/; distich to, 151; his love of 
 nature, and encomium on his native place. 310, 311. 
 
 ^— — biographical sketch of, and notice of his works, iii. 3, el 
 
 seq.; his birth- place, and contemporary with Shakspeare and Spen- 
 ser, 4 ; reasons lor his attachment to pastoral poetry, 5 ; his removal 
 to Oxford at fifteen or s'xteen, 7 ; age at which he produced the 
 first part of ' Britannia's Pastorals,' ib. ; becomes tutor to the young 
 Earl of Carnarvon, 8 ; improvement in his fortunes, 10; his di- 
 minutive person, ib. ; a royalist, ib. ; enumeration of his various 
 pieces, 11; allusion to Lydford law, 12; merits and defects of 
 Browne, 16 — 18; specimens of his poetr\-, 20 ; his ' Loves of the 
 Walla and the Tavy,' characterized, 331. 
 
 Browne, the traveller, his silence in company, iii, 214. 
 
 Brydges, Sir Egerton, iii. 13. 
 
 Buckland Monachorum, inscribed stone at, i. 361. 
 
 Bull, Bishop, his opinion on the agency of dreams, ii. 47, 48. 
 
 Buller, Judge, removed the Stannators' stone, i. 119 ; stone at Den. 
 nabridge, 131 ; probable reason for referrring to him the removal of 
 the Stannators' stone, 133; story of the Judge's removal of it with- 
 out foundation, 135. 
 
 Bnlmer, Sir Francis, enormous silver cup presented by, to the city of 
 London, i. 15G. 
 
 Q3
 
 346 INDEX. 
 
 Burdttt, Sir Francis, iii. 215; remark on Home Tooke's being put 
 
 into a passion, 216. 
 Burial rites of the ancient Britons, i. 149. 
 Butcher, arhitrarj' proceedings of, iii. 137. 
 Butter of the ancient Britons, celebrity of, ii. 3. 
 Butterfly, yellow, early appearance of, in Devon, i. 13 ; its sportive 
 
 action described, 66 ; reflections on the butterfly, ii. 139. 
 
 c. 
 
 Cacophagi. pun on, i. 254. 
 
 Caduceus of INIercury, supposed origin of, iu the British isles, i. 96. 
 
 Caer Sidi, what, i. 148. 
 
 Caesar, testimony of. to the eminence of the ancient British priest- 
 hood, i. 48 ; letters of the Druids, 49 ; schools and societies of the 
 Druids, 57, 58 ; cuts down the sacred oaks, 98. 
 
 Cake, Rev. Mr., bis care of little Edward Atkyns, iii. 196. 
 
 Calamy, Benjamin, iii. 67, note.; sou of the non-conformist, came into 
 the Established Church, G9. 
 
 Canary, talking, accoiuit of one, iii. 131. 
 
 Canute, church preferment heaped by, on Livingus, ii. 88. 
 
 Car, fairy, poetical description of, i. 179. 
 
 Carnac, in Britany, similarity of its position to that of Stonehenge, 
 i. 61 ; its position near the sea-shore, and Druidical temple at, in 
 the form of a serpent, 97, note. 
 
 Carnarvon, Earl of, his gallant death, iii. 8 ; his education and pur- 
 suits, 9. 
 
 Carpenter, Eev. Mr., ii. 124. 
 
 Carpenter, Mr. and Mrs., monuments to,, in Tavistock church, ii. 130, 
 and note. 
 
 Carril, import of, i. 85. note. 
 
 Carrington. ' lonely wood of Wistman,' i. 58 ; his sublime portraiture 
 of Dartmoor, 63 ; tribute to, ib.; citation from, in allusion to the 
 awful visitation at Widdecombe church, 313; encomium on Devo- 
 nia, ii. 311. 
 
 Carter Foot, story of, iii, 170. 
 
 Carteret, Lord, iii. 84. 
 
 Cascades, account of, ii. 345, 353. 
 
 Cassiterides, what they meant, i. 155, note. 
 
 Cat, favourite, anecdote of, ii. 147. 
 
 Catacombs, suggestion for forming, on Dartmoor, i. 28S. 
 
 Catholic. See Homan Catholic. 
 
 Cato's distichs, practical facility of adequately translating into Eng- 
 lish ones, i. 77 . 
 
 Cattle, enclosures for the protection of, i. 124, 127. 
 
 Cave, a. described, i. 104. 
 
 Cavern, singular, described, i. 235 ; deficiency of natural caverns on 
 Dartmoor, 288. 
 
 Cedar of Lebanon, elegant appearance of. ii. 143. 
 
 Celtic origin of the British Druids, i. 42, 7iole ; similarity of con- 
 struction between Celtic antiquities of Dartmoor and those of 
 Sweden, ib. ; comparative resemblance of the Celts and Druids in 
 the art of eloquence, 46,47 ; and in the custom of transmitting their
 
 INDEX. 347 
 
 laws by tradition, 50 ; similarity between Celtic and Jewish idolatry, 
 9 1 ; universality of Celtic manners, 125, jiote. 
 
 Ceridweii, celebrated cauldron of, what, i. 151. 
 
 Chaining of books, anciently for security, ii. 122, note. 
 
 Chair, stone, described and figured, i. 133, 134. 
 
 Chariot-races of our British ancestors, i. 142. 
 
 Charity, English, commended by Espriella, iii. 136 ; remarks on 
 ancient charities, and on the commutations of them, 136, 137; 
 general review of the charities of Tavistock, 138, et seq. 
 
 nuns of. advantage of the establishment of, on a Protestant 
 
 foundation, i. 334. 
 
 Charles, Prince, afterwards Charles II., proceedings of, in the West, 
 during the great rebellion, iii. 42, et seq. ; tradition of the pottery 
 equestrian figures, 58 ; and of his hiding-place, 59. 
 
 Charles I., eminence of the reformed divines down to his days,ii. 104; 
 political and religiotis state of England at the commencement of 
 his reign, iii. 27 ; its flourishing condition, 28, 29 ; outcry against 
 the Church, 30. 
 
 Charles II., remark on the climate of Tavistock, i. 4. 
 
 Charming adders, i. 95 ; serpents, exercised by the Druids, 96. 
 
 Charms, mystical, for curing diseases, i. 332. 
 
 Cheese wring, granitic, of Cornwall, figure of, i. 284. 
 
 Childe, of Plyrasfcck, his tomb, and story of his horse, ii. 53 ; distich 
 by which he willed his land, 54 ; when he lived, 55. 
 
 Children, fortunes of, regulated by the day of the week on which 
 born, ii. 287. 
 
 Chillingworth's remark on Raleigh, ii. 105. 
 
 Cholera, melancholy instance of two deaths by, iii. 140; proof of its 
 contagiousness, 111, 112 ; cholera at Tavistock, 175. 
 
 Christianity in the M'est, remarks on the progress of, ii. 9 ; benefits 
 of civilization conferred by Christianity, 11 ; barbarous rites extir- 
 pated by it, 12 ; general view of its establishment, 13 ; its self-sub- 
 duing spirit, and gentle virtues, 35 ; blessings conferred by it, 36. 
 
 Chrysostora, beautiful remark of, on the operations of the Divine 
 Spirit, ii. 133. 
 
 Church, incalculable benefits of it, in the extirpation of paganism, 
 ii. 11 ; remarlis on the superstitious of the Romish Church, '37 ; on 
 its poetic and imaginative character, 38 ; excellence and glory of 
 the Reformed Church, 104; curious church-registers, 121. 
 
 state of the Church previous to the Great Rebellion, iii. 29; 
 
 objtct of the outcry against it, 30 ; dangers to a state that has no 
 established church, 32 ; fall and restoration of the church, 32, 33 ; 
 picturesque beauty of old churches, and liberality of the wealthy in 
 the building of them, 92. 
 
 Churchwarden's account, specimens of ancient, ii. 116, note ; 122, 7iote. 
 Churchyard, reflections on visiting, iii. 103. 
 
 Cicero, censure on Homer, foi- his manner of treating the gods. ii. 37. 
 
 Circle, magical, i. 95 ; C\ clopean stone-circles of the Damnonii, 124, 
 125 ; account of forty, 159 : Druidical, described, 257. 
 
 Civilization, its benefiis depicted, ii. 10. 1 1. 
 
 Clack, Rev. Mr., iii. 196. 
 
 Clarence, Duke of. anecdote of Mr. Bray being in comnanv with, iii. 
 206,«o/e. J o 1 . :
 
 348 INDEX. 
 
 Clarendon's sketch of Lord Carnarvon, iii. 9. 
 
 Clarke., Dr.. i. 42, note ; singular basaltic crystallizations described in 
 Clarke's Travels, 115, nute. 
 
 Cleopatra's Needle, described, ii. 151, 152. 
 
 Clergy of the Reformation, remarks on, ii. 102; their degradation 
 and impoverisliment, 103. 
 
 , ancient reverence for the, iii. 92. 
 
 Clergyman's daughter, story of, i. 296. 
 
 Climate of Tavistock, mildness of, i. C. 
 
 Clouted cream, account of, ii. 2. 
 
 Coach of bones, ii. 299 ; anecdotes of, 320. 
 
 Cockstor, account uf, i. 238 ; a trap mountain, 308. 
 
 Cole, John, epitaph on, i. 253. 
 
 Collacombe, vast number of panes of glass in, iii. 92, note. 
 
 Colling, jVIarv, notice of, and of her poetry, i. ISO; charms of Devon- 
 shire, 333. Interesting story by, ii. 2-49 ; notices by, of rustic sn- 
 persthions, 290, et seq. ; letter to Mrs. Bray, 297. Her amiable 
 character, and efiorts at impr^jvement, iii. 130 ; her continued hu- 
 mility and affection since the juiblication of her book, 131 ; ac- 
 count (if her talking canary, ib. ; her praiseworthy conduct after the 
 publication of htr work, 132; interest awakened by her work in 
 England and Denmark, 132, 133; proposal by Mrs. Bray to super- 
 intend a reprint of her work, ib., note. 
 
 ' Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society,' ii. 42. 
 
 Commerce of the ancient Hritons, i. 155. 
 
 'Comus' of Milton, hint of, why not borrowed from Browne's 'Circe,' 
 iii. 17. 
 
 Conjuring time, on Dartmoor, i. 3G, 37. 
 
 Connexion between the remains of British antiquity and the early 
 history of the country, i. 52. 
 
 Consumption, i.ulmonarj-, raritj- of, at Dartmoor, i. 12. 
 
 Convent, remarks on the victims of, ii. 37. 
 
 Convulsions, natural, i. 309. 
 
 Coombe, beautiful valley of, iii. 282. 
 
 Coombe-Martin, silver mine of, i. 15G. 
 
 Cornwall, why so called, and considered a part of Wales, i. 74. 
 
 Cotele, legend of, i. ISO. 
 
 Cotgrave, Capt., anecdote of a pony, i. 65. note. 
 
 Cottage, Devonshire, beautiful picture of. ii. 139. 
 
 Courtenay, a Lord, marries an innkeeper's daughter, iii. 196. 
 
 Courtenay, Sir William, iii. 143. 
 
 Courtenaj", A.'r., i. 333. 
 
 Courtnay's, Lord, Behidere, i. 258. 
 
 Cowsick, inscriptions for a rock and island in the river, i. S3 ; bridge 
 over the Cowsick. 136. 
 
 Cramp-eaters, i. 253 ; cramps, what, 254. 
 
 Cranmcre Pool, the source of ihe Tavy, i. 260 ; account of, 261. 
 
 Crapp, Mr., iii. 119; procures the establishment of the Dispensary at 
 Tavistock, 144. 
 
 Cream, scalded, or clouted, its great celebrity in all ages,ii. 3. 
 
 Creation, contemplation of, ii. 135. The study of. inexhaustible, iii. G. 
 
 Credulity, remarkable instance of, i. 20). Credulity the vice of for- 
 mer ages, ii. 46.
 
 INDEX. 349 
 
 Cricket's cry, considered ominous by the peasantry, i. 321. 
 
 Criminals, immolation of, to the British gods, i. 1 i 1 . 
 
 Crocker, family of, i. 115. 
 
 Crockerntor, the seat of British jurisprudence, i. 105; description of, 
 113 ; account of Crockerntor. from Mr. Bray's journal, l\A. et seq.; 
 Judge's chair, 118: Parliament-rock, 119 ; its site, and why chosen by 
 the miners as the chief station for holding their Stannary courts. 123. 
 
 Cromlech, extraordinary, i. 12G ; purposes to which cromlechs were de- 
 voted, 143 ; meaning of the word. 145 ; lallen cromlech described, 
 146; described by Mr. Bray, 164 ; derivation of the word, 1G5; 
 intention and use of cromlechs, ib. 
 
 Cronnan, import of. i. 85. 
 
 Crook, explained, i. 23 ; the devil's toothpick, 24. 
 
 Cross, ancient British, i. 299 ; reflections on the cross as an emblem 
 of Christianity, ii- 73, 76. 
 
 Crowndale, the birth-place of Sir F. Drake, i. 14; beautiful valley of, 
 ii. 156 ; picturesque views in. 165, 166 ; derivation of the name, 169. 
 
 Crystallization, extraordinary, i. 116, note. 
 
 Crystals of Dartmoor, i. 306. 
 
 Cuckoo lambs, i. 65, note ; cuckoo's note, ominous, and rude rhymes 
 on the cuckoo, 326. 
 
 Cudlipp Town, notice of, iii. 28.5. 
 
 Cursus, stone-circles found near, i. 125; Cursus, or Via Sacra, de- 
 scribed, 139 ; map of that near Murrivale bridge, 140 ; notice of other 
 cursus, 141 ; additional notice of the great cursus on Dartmoor, 
 147 ; account of the cursus by Jlr. Bray, 64 ; exploit at, iii. 278. 
 
 Custard. See Ejection. 
 
 Cyclopean works of the ancient Britons, i. 124. 
 
 D. 
 
 Damnonia, remarks on the introduction of Christianity in, ii. 9. 
 
 Damnonii, their descent, origin, i. 39, and early civilization, 40, 41 : 
 upheld the priesthood of Druidism, 55; idolatrous worship of, 56 ; 
 records of the history, and religious rites of their priests, 63 ; stone- 
 circles for the protection of their cattle, 124 ; excellence of their 
 flocks. 127 ; their tin-tratfic with the Phcenicians, ib. ; nature and 
 extent of their trafflc, 155. 
 
 Danes, date of their arrival in England, and ravages committed by 
 them, ii. SI ; battle with Egbert, 82 ; burn the cathedral and 
 palace of Launceston in Cornwall, 85 ; surprise Tavistcck, 86 ; 
 enter the Tamar, and burn the abbey of Tavistock, 87 ; Danish 
 mouarchs, 90. 92. 
 
 Danes Combe, ii. 82, note. 
 
 Dante, distich on, i. 87. 
 
 Dartemoor, why probably the ancient spelling, i. 325. 
 
 Dartmoor heights, their "characteristics and effects, i. 5 : no person 
 born and bred on Dartmoor known to die of pulmonary consump, 
 tion, 12 ; historic notice of Dartmoor, its extent, antitpiities. scenery, 
 &c., \G,etseq.; its wild animals, 34 ; Fenwell rights. 35 ; baa^ 
 ditti, li. ,• mists, 36 ; extremes in its weather, 37; the Druids, 42, 
 et seq.; bards, 44: s-poliatiuns of its ancient structure, 52; de- 
 vastations committed in a drunken frolic, 53,54. 292; antirpiities
 
 350 INDEX. 
 
 and history of Dartmoor, 55; fitness of the locality for the Druidical 
 rites and ceremonies, 56 ; secrecy and mystery in the institutions 
 of the Druids, 58 ; Forest of Dartmoor, 58, 59 ; vegetation, streams, 
 and feathered races of Dartmoor, 59, CO; rocks, granite, and torss 
 of the moor, 61 ; sublimity of its scenery, 63 ; regret at the indif- 
 ference for Dartmoor, //>.; morning on the moor, 64 ; animals, &c., 
 65; entomology of the moor, 66 ; its birds described, 66, 67; re- 
 flections. 68 ; Bair-down, particular description of, 69 ; inscriptions 
 of, 75, 79, 81 ; Dartmoor, the last impenetrahle retreat of the bards, 
 106; tribunal of justice, 109 ; courts of justice described, 112, el 
 seq. ; Stannary-table, 117; Judge's chair, 118; rock-basin, and 
 tolmen, 120 ; notices of various tors, 121, e/ seq. ; Grimspound, 124 ; 
 Cursus, or Via Sacra, 125 ; granitic enclosures, 126 ; the Damnonii, 
 127 ; Dennabridge Pound, 128, 133 ; Celtic circle, 134 ; fossil oak, 
 135 ; description of the locality and various vestiges of antiquity 
 on the moor, 139, et seq.; circles, Cursus, &c. near Merrivale bridge, 
 140 ; Druidical processions, 141 ; chariot-races, 142 ; fallen 
 cromlech, 143 ; stone of sacrifice, 147 ; mythological ark, and helio- 
 arkite ceremonies, 148 ; barrows, 149 ; obelisks, 150 ; sacred wells, 
 151 ; rock-basins, 152; rocking or logan stones, and primitive 
 bridges, 153 ; effects of storms of rain, 154; ancient trackways, 
 154; silver mines, 155 ; remnants of ancient customs, 156 ; circles 
 and cromlechs, 159 — 165 ; bogs and mists, 167, 151 ; pixy freaks, 
 169 ; antiquity and origin of fairies, 170, et seq.; account and 
 figure of Vixen Tor, 212 ; boundary of the forest, ib., note ; account 
 of an excursion to Dartmoor rail-road, 278 ; sketch from the rail- 
 road, 282, 283 ; remarks on the gateway of Dartmoor prison, 285 ; 
 operations on the rail-road, 286, 287 ; sufficiency of the stone on 
 Dartmoor to build all the cities of Europe, 288 ; excursion to the 
 Warren in search of the King's Oven, 294 ; elevation of the southern 
 hills, 304; minerals and ignes fatui, zi. / fossils, &c., 306; load- 
 stone, 307; earthquake, 310; legendary story of the storm, 312, 
 note; storms, 314 ; botany and vegetation, 316, 317 ; birds, 319; 
 insects and fishes, 321 ; reptiles, 322; bats and vipers, 323, and 
 note; vestiges of ancient customs, 324 ; rites, customs, &c., 325 ; 
 May-fires, 326 ; May-day, 327 ; the hobby, 328 ; sacred offerings, 
 329 ; s])int of the harvest, 330 ; vestiges of Druidism, 331 ; sacred 
 plants, 332 ; herbs, charms, 333 ; saluting the apple-tree, 335 ; the 
 last of October, 336 ; animals of Dartmoor, 337 ; rudeness of the 
 peasantry, «'-'.,• quadrupeds, 338 ; game, 341 ; wild animals, 342 ; 
 mice and bats, ;544 ; birds of Dartmoor, 345 ; figure of the trachea 
 of the gooseander and the dundiver, 356. 
 
 Dartmoor, notice of the minerals of, by Mr. Pearse, iii. 253 ; position 
 fur seeing the tors to most advantage, 338. 
 
 D'Avanzati's Tacitus, its reputation, i. 78; more concisely translated 
 into English than Italian, ih. 
 
 Davies, Rev. Edward, i. 4'J, nule. 
 
 Days, ominous, description of, ii. 286, 287. 
 
 Dead, the stone-memorials of, i. 149; practice of erecting memorials 
 for the, ii. 152. 
 
 Dean, Rural, visit to, iii. 334. 
 
 Decoction of sacred herbs, i. 151.
 
 INDEX. 351 
 
 Deer, red, of Devon, i. 340. 
 
 De Foe, incident adopted by, ii. 187. 
 
 Deities of the ancient Britons,!. 56. 
 
 De Lille, Abbe, anecdotes of, iii. 310. 
 
 Deluge, great, vestiges of, i. 308. 
 
 Deunabridge Pound, i. 124. et seq ; general description of, 128, et seq.; 
 
 stone at the Pound described, and opinions respecting it, 132. 133. 
 Desenfant. Mr., account of his collection of pictures, iii. 308. 
 Devil, legend of his riding into Widdecombe church, i. 312, note ; 
 
 stories of the devil, ii. 282, et seq. 
 Devil's toothpick, i. 24. 
 Devon, Earl of, the title, when created, i. 102, tiote. 
 
 loyalty of the gentry of the county during the Great Re- 
 bellion, iii. 34. 
 
 Devonians, custom of softening words, i. 121. 
 
 Devonshire, climate of, i. 4 ; proofs of its great mildness, 12; etymo- 
 logy and origin of the word, 40 ; fossils, crystals, &c., 305 ; ecclesias- 
 tical history of Devonshire, ii. 10 ; general character of a Devonshire 
 cottage, 139 ; present belief of the peasantry of, in witchcraft, 170. 
 
 Dictionary, ancient, chaining of, in the school-house, ii. 122. 
 
 Dinham, Miss, biographical notice of, iii. 114; story of an extraor- 
 dinary dream, 115; drowning of Edmund Dinham, IIG ; his re- 
 storation to life, and subsequent death, 117. 
 
 D'Israeli, Mr., communication to, respecting the Grenville Letters, 
 iii. 86. 
 
 Dissolution of monasteries, reflections on, ii. 101. 
 
 Distaff, mode of expressing the weaker sex by the tenn, iii. 5. 
 
 Distich, English, alleged impossibility of condensing any poetical 
 thought into, i. 76 ; remarks on the above position. 77 ; specimens 
 of, S3 to 89 ; various distichs on persons of eminence, ii. 150. 
 
 Divination by the entrails of human beings, abolished by Christianity, 
 ii. 12. 
 
 Divines, great, of the Reformed and Established Church, enumeration 
 of, ii. 105; characteristics of the writings of the old divines, iii. 
 31 7 ; prolixity their chief defect, 323. 
 
 Divining rod, necessity for, in understanding the Bardic alphabet, i. 78 ; 
 its inutilitj', iii. 259. 
 
 Dobb, his merits and docility, iii. 273. 
 
 Dobson, Jenny, story of, iii. 131. 
 
 Dobuni, their loc.ility, and derivation of the name, i. 370. 
 
 Doctor, country, sketch of one, iii. 172. 
 
 Doney, Mr., account of, ii. 158. 
 
 Dormer, Robert, Earl of Carnarvon, iii. 8. 
 
 Double Water, romantic spot of, iii. 262. 
 
 Down-house, pixy pit at, i. 182. 
 
 Dowser, futile superstition of, iii. 259. 
 
 Drake, Sir Francis, his birth-place, i. 14. Distich on, ii. 150, and 
 note; description of the place, 106, and of the cottage in which he 
 was born, 168 ; traditions of Drake, 170; shooting the gulf, 171; 
 biography and history of Drake, 178, et seq. 
 
 Dramatizing any remarkable incident, former custom of, ii. 317. 
 
 Drawing, advantages of a knowledge of, i. 315.
 
 352 INDEX. 
 
 Drayton, description by, of fairies and fairy houses, i. 177 ; his tales 
 
 characterized, 178. 
 Dreams, remarks on the spiritual agency of, ii. 47 ; dreams moni- 
 tory, 48. 
 
 . storj- of an extraordinary dream, iii. 115. 
 
 Dress of the Druids, i. oO ; comparative advantages of old and modern 
 
 fashions, iii. 76. 
 Drew, its signification, and derivation, i. 146, note, 
 Drewsteignton, cromlech near, i. 146. 
 Drinking, deep, rendered familiar in England by the Saxons and 
 
 Danes, ii. 29. 
 Druids, celebrity of the, at the[time of Caesar's invasion, i. 41 ; simi- 
 larity of origin between the Druids, Celts, and C)-clops, 42, «&/e; 
 historic i:ot:ce of the Druids and the Druidical system, 42, e/ seq. ; 
 Druidical learning. 49 ; schools, 50 ; superstitions, 5 1 ; adaptation 
 of the locality of Dartmoor to the idolatrous rites and worship of 
 the Druids, 56; Druidical groves, 58, 59; augury, 61 ; causes of 
 the splendid remains of Druidical art on Salisbur}' plain, 02; sub- 
 limity in which the Druid moved in the Dartmoor scenery, 63 ; 
 division of their order, 75 ; triad on the metempsychosis, and on 
 Drui(iical maxims, 82 ; magic wands of, 96 ; Druidical groves, 105 ; 
 courts of judicature. 110; administration of justice, and human 
 sacrifices. 111; processions on Druidical festivals, 141 ; Druidical 
 initiation, 145 ; rites and sacrifices, 147 ; sacred ships, 14S ; fitness 
 of Dartmoor for Druidical augury, 150 ; Druidical circles described, 
 162 ; mysterious evolutions o'f the Druids, 163; lustrations, 218; 
 miracles, pretended, with the logan stones, 219 ; Diiiidical seat of 
 judgment, and extriiordinary power arrogated by the Druids, 227 ; 
 sacred cemetery, 249 ; notices of various Druidical ceremonies ob- 
 served on particular days, 325 ; vestiges of Druidisra, 331,332; 
 terrific Druidical rites, 336. 
 
 causes of tlie retention of Druidism in the West, ii. 9, 10. 
 
 Dun, signifies a hill, i. 74. 
 
 Duudiver, notice of, with a figure of its trachea, i. 357, 356. 
 
 Duustan, 1st, account of, ii. 60, el seq. 
 
 Duties, little, advantages of an attention to, ii. 44. 
 
 Dye, scarlet moss used for, i. 127. 
 
 Dynington, John, notice of, ii. 95. 
 
 E. 
 
 Eagle, black, of the forest of Dartmoor, i. 59 ; its nest never disco- 
 vered, 60, nole. High character of the Roman conquests depicted 
 by, ii. 10. 
 
 Earl, court, office, and duties of, ii. 15, el seq. 
 
 Eaily days, permanence of the impressions of, iii. 271. 
 
 Earth, red, brilliant, of Dartmoor, *i._306. 
 
 Earthquake, accouut of, i. 310. 
 
 Easter eve, custom of sending new gloves on, ii. 285. 
 
 Eastern idolatry, seats of, i. 9 1 ; origin of temples of luihewn stone, 1 1 0. 
 
 Ecclesiastical edifices, ancient, reflections on, ii. 76. 
 
 Eden, poetical description of, ii. 141. 
 
 Edgar and Elfrida, storj- ot; ii. ] 8.
 
 INDEX. 353 
 
 Edgeciimbe. Lieut. . lii, 150. 
 
 , Mount, ii. SG. 
 
 , Wm., benefactions of, ii. 95. 
 
 Edward, King, where slain, ii. 17 ; where buried, and whither trans- 
 ferred, 28, note. 
 ' II. banished the Jews, i. 156. 
 
 III., resources derived from the silver mines, i. 155. 
 
 VI., remarks on his early death, ii. 104. 
 
 Edwards, the bookseller, notice of his library, iii. 203. 
 Edwy Atheling, notice of, and of his death, ii. 9"2. 
 Egbert, defeats the Danes and the men of Cornwall, ii. 82. 
 
 Egg, serpent's, superstition traced to, i. 96; connexion of the Druid- 
 ical egg with the Arkite mj'steries, 97, note. 
 
 Ejection of a minister for eating custard pudding in a slovenly man- 
 ner, iii. 1 il. 
 
 Elford, the royalist, account of his cavern, i. 235, and note. Further 
 notice of the natural fissure, iii. 102, 108. 
 
 Elfrida, beautiful, where born, ii. 9 ; story of Elfrida and Ethelwold, 
 17, et seq. ; nunneries founded by, as an atonement for her crime, 
 27, note ; remarks on JIason's Elfrida, 29, et seq.; Elfrida's dislike 
 of Dunstan, C3, note. 
 
 Elgin marbles, hogged manes of the horses of, 129. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen, enlightened policy pursued by, respecting the sil- 
 ver mines of Devon, i. 156 ; honorary monument to, in Tavistock 
 church, ii. 129 ; the inscription given, 130. 
 
 EUwood, Mrs. Colonel, i. 243, note. 
 
 Eloquence of the Druids, i. 46 ; how symbolized, 47. 
 
 Enchantment, fairy, story of, i. 186. 
 
 Enclosures, enormous granite, i. 126, 127. 
 
 Endsleigh cottage, by whom designed and built, iii. 151, 152; de- 
 scription of the cottage and surrounding scenery, 281. 
 
 England, state of, previous to the Great Rebellion, iii. 27, et seq. 
 
 Episcopal see, the first in the city of Dorchester, ii. 1 3. 
 
 Erasmus' Paraphrase, original cost of, ii. 122, 7iote. 
 
 Espriella, reflection on the decay of religious feeling ia the increase of 
 selfishness, iii. 92 ; remarks on his ingenuity as a narrator, 136. 
 
 Established Church, eminence of its divines, ii. 105. 
 
 Ethelred's charter, ii. 58. 
 
 Ethelwold, story of, ii. 19; murdered, 23 ; historic doubts as to the 
 scene of his murder, 25, 26. 
 
 Ettrick Shepherd, the devil how discovered, i. 313, ?iote. 
 
 Evans, Eev. Mr, beautiful slate in liis house, i. 305. 
 
 Mr., estate and plantations of, iii. 2GS. 
 
 Evelyn's Silva, cited, on the transverse section of the l>ough of a tree, 
 i. 103; Evelyn the first Englishman who brought gardening into 
 a regular art, ii. 141. 
 
 Eustace, St., paintings in the church of, ii. 1 IS. 
 
 Eyes, magic ointment for the, i. 185. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fabrics of unhewn stone of Eastern origin, i. 109. 
 
 Fairies, account of, i. 169, et seq. ; worshipped by the Druids, 171;
 
 35-1 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 fairj' transformations, 173; fairy stories, 174: car, 179; magic 
 
 ointment for seeing a fair_v, 186. 
 Farmer, eccentric, storj' of, ii. 255. 
 Farrindon, remark on, ii. 105 ; neglect, and future revival of his 
 
 works, 105, 106. 
 Fathers of the Church, learning indebted to, ii. 67. 
 Fays of Dartmoor, i. 155. 
 Fenwell rights, i. 35. 
 Feud, extraordinary, between the Tavistock and Oakhampton people, 
 
 iii. 169. 
 Fice's well, i. 59. 
 Filial pietj', remarks on, ii. 156. 
 Finga!, lines on, i. 85. 
 
 Fire, sacred to the British Ceres, i. 147 ; fire-begging, notice of, 336. 
 Fits, suj erstitious cure for, ii. 291, and 7iote. 
 Fitz of Fitzford, tale of, i. 1 SO. Monument and arms of John Fitz, 
 
 ii. 128; distich to the family of, 151 ; account of John Fitz and 
 
 Slanning, 322 ; oversight in Mrs. Bray's novel, accounted for, 325. 
 
 Loyalty to Charles of the old house ofFitz-ford, iii, 35 ; capture of 
 
 it by Lord Essex, 47, 61. 
 Fitz, Sir John, suicide of, iii. 48. 
 
 Fitz-ford, discovery of a subterraneous passage at, ii. 295. 
 Fitz's well, account of a visit to, i. 300 ; biographical notice of the 
 
 Fitzes, 301, 302. 
 Flint, the primitive material for mo?t implements, i. 155. 
 Flowers, enchanted, i. 191 ; wild, enumeration of beautiful, 317, 318. 
 
 Universal love of, ii. 140. 
 Foam, incrustation of. i. 276. 
 Fog, remarkable, i. 289, 292. 
 Folly Orchard, the name why given, ii. 109. 
 
 Forest, its real signification, i. 102, and note; the treeless moor de- 
 signated by the word, 132. 
 Foresta, definition of, i. 58. 
 
 Forests, adaptation of, for purposes of mystery, i. 53. 
 Fortescue of Buckland Filleigh, cur'ous blunders on the monument of 
 
 one of the, ii. 130. 
 Fortibus, William de. Earl of Albemarle, i. 102, note. 
 Fortibus, Isabella, tradition of her planting Wistman's Wood, i. 102; 
 
 not planted by her, z6., note. 
 Fountains, sacred, i. 151. 
 Fox, seen to chase a hare, i. 260. Reward for killing one in 1673, ii. 
 
 122, note. 
 Foxglove, magnificent appearance of, in Devon, i. 316 ; white, decoc- 
 tion of, used as an emetic, 317. 
 Friday, superstitions respecting, ii. 287. 
 Froissart, error in locality by, ii. 28. 
 Froude, Archdeacon, attempt to discover the age of a tree by the 
 
 microscope, i. 103. 
 Fulford, Baldwin, notice of, and of the Fulford family, iii. 193, and note. 
 Fuller, pleasant remark on the increase of the Benedictines, ii. 61, 
 
 His remark on Scaliger, iii. 65.
 
 INDEX. 355 
 
 Funeral memorials of the ancient Britons, i. 149. Superstitious 
 
 notion of funeral walking, ii. 127. 
 Furniture, curious ancient, described, iii. 80. 
 Furtor, basin on, i. 262. 
 
 Furze, wild, magnificent appearance of, i. 316. 
 Furzetown, grotesque aspect of iii. 339. 
 
 Fuseli's Night. Mare, effects of the print of, on the mind, iii. 88. 
 Fyues, Red-post, his character and extraordinary ignorance, iii. 200. 
 
 G. 
 
 Garan Hu, the Charon of Britain, i. 143. 
 
 Garden^ the love of it common with amiable persons, ii. 134, 133 ; 
 
 general prevalence in England of a taste for gardening, 138; 
 
 enumeration of great men who delighted in a garden, 140. 
 Garland Day described, ii. 289. 
 Gates, ancient administration of justice in, i. 112, 
 Geach, Dr., epitaph on a faithful priest, iii. 84. 
 Gentleman's Magazine quoted, ii. 11'). 
 Geology of Dartmoor, i. 305, et seq. 
 Gertor, i. 277. 
 Ghost story, ii. 298. 
 Giants, once masters of the hill country of Devonshire, i. 99. Stature 
 
 of the French giant, iii. 4.57. 
 Gigantic bones discovered, and their dimensions, ii. 113. 
 Glanville, Judge, monument of, ii. 129; distich to, 1.51; account of, 
 
 311, et seq. Mutilation of his statue hy the parliamentary forces, 
 
 iii. 61 ; picture of, and of his lady, at Sortridge, with dates 
 
 ■when painteil and retouched, 336. 
 Glanville, Dame, effigy of, ii. 314. Her fondness for finery, iii. 357. 
 Glanville, Joseph, where born, ii. 276 ; historical advantage derived 
 
 hy him in having seen the devil himself. 276, 277. 
 Glanville, Sir J., notice of, ii. 329 ; and of Frank Glanville, 337; the 
 
 Glanville familj-, and last of the Glanvilles, 343, 344. 
 Glass ship, in the Ilelio-arkite mysteries,!. 141, 148. 
 Gloves, new, custom of sending on Easter eve, ii. 285. 
 Godly, havoc committed by the, iii. 62. 
 Godo, the British Ceres, procession to, i. 141; fire consecrated to 
 
 her worship, 147. 
 Gododin, poem of, characterized, i. 142 ; enumeration of incidents in, 
 
 for a poem in the style of Madoc, 143. 
 Gods of barbarous nations, fierce and bloody, ii. 35 ; the gods how 
 
 treated by Homer, 37. 
 Godwin, Earl, treachery of, ii. 90. 
 Good Friday, superstitious notions respecting, among the peasantry, 
 
 ii.286. 
 Gooseander, dissection of, with a figure of its trachea, i. 355, 356. 
 Gordon, Sir A., iii. 327. 
 Gorseddau, spot of the, described, i. 111. 
 Gospel, civilizing effects from the preaching of, ii. 12. 
 Gothic and Grecian buildings, picturesque, combination produced when 
 
 each structure is distinct, iii. 147. 
 Granite, abundance of, on Dartmoor, i. 52 ; masses strewed on the moor,
 
 356 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 61 ; causes of its takinj^the convex or gibbous form, 230 ; granite 
 turrets, 280; account of granite boring, &c. 2S1 ; architecture to 
 which granite is best adapted, 283 ; its abundance on Dartmoor, 
 288 ; composition of grey granite, 304. 
 
 Gray, the poet, anecdotes of, iii. 311 ; his handwriting, 312; his 
 averseness to publication, ib. ; his annotations on Pindar. 313; 
 remarks on Plato, 314; sliglit alterations in his ' Ode on the 
 Progress of Poesy,' arising Irom long previous meditation, 314; 
 prolundity of his knowledge, ib. ; his regret at his ignorance of 
 mathematics, 315. 
 
 Graves of the Caledonians and Britons, i. 140. 
 
 Great Rebellion, notices of the, iii. 27. 
 
 Greco, Miss Elizabeth, her eminence as a singer, ii. 282, 7iote. Her 
 powers and feeling as a vocalist, iii. 134. 
 
 Grenofen, house and valley, iii. 262. 
 
 Grenville, Sir Bevil, his chivalrous loyalty, iii. 36; his death, 41 ; 
 original letters of, discovered, 85. 
 
 Grenville, Sir Richard, arbitrary conduct of, iii. 12; the probable 
 origin of Lydford law, 13; his careless conduct in the retreat to 
 Launceston, 4G ; injury to the royal cause from his misconduct, 
 47 ; historic notice of Sir Richard, 50 ; his bitterness and ma- 
 lice, 53. 
 
 Grey ^Vetb.ers, name given to stone at Abury, i. 123. 
 
 Grimbal, Betsey. See Betsey. 
 
 Grimspound described, i. 124. 
 
 Grot, Pixies', i. 232 ; described, 235. 
 
 Groves, the seats of Druidical instruction, i. 58 ; universality of 
 groves among the ancients as places of idolatry, 91; Groves in 
 stony places, lOl. 
 
 Gubbins, the, notice of, i. 253. 
 
 Guile-bridge, ii. 55, 
 
 Gull, common, curious tmigratiun, i. 355. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hair of the dead body, its continued growth, i. 1 04. 
 
 Halleraud, Mr., jealousy between his boys and Mr. Cake's, iii. 203. 
 
 Hals, Lieut. Col. James, iii. H. 
 
 Ham, or Ammon, a British deity, i. 57 ; derivations from Ham, ib. 
 
 7iote. 
 Hamilton, Lady, her character and person depicted, iii. 215. 
 Hampden, wily conduct of, ii. 331. 
 Hampstead, etymology of, i. 10, 11, note. 
 Hannaford, farmer, i. 94. 
 Hard weather, effects of, i. 1 1. 
 Hardicanute, preference for, by the English, ii. 89. 
 Harding, Mr., enthusiasm of, iii. 264. 
 Harewoud forest, ii. 30. 
 
 Harold, named heir to the crown by Canute, ii. 89. 
 Harris, his fearlessness as a preacher, ii. 106. 
 Harvest, spirit of the, i. 330. 
 Haunted house, story of, ii. 298. 
 Hay tor, white laud at its base, i. 122.
 
 INDEX. 357 
 
 Heatlifield, ICf^endary tale of, ii. 279. 
 
 Helio-arkite god, the adder a symbol of, i. 97. 
 
 Helling, the name for a slate roof, i. 306. 
 
 Hengist, how termed by the Welsh bard, i. 143. 
 
 Hengist Down, on the origin of the name. ii. 82, and note. 
 
 Henry Vlll., reflections on his conduct and motives in the reformation, 
 
 ii. 102; penalties enjoined by his Six Articles, ISl, note. 
 Henwen, old lady, who, i. 145, note. 
 Henwood, Thomas, courage in saving a child from drowning, iii. 
 
 118 ; receives the silver medal from the Humane Society, 119. 
 Herbal, proposed formation of one, iii. 149. 
 
 Herbs, sacred, for charms, i. 332 ; decoction of, in sacred rites, 151. 
 Hercules, in Gaul, bi'tokened strength of body, i. 47. 
 Heretoge, or Duke, his office, and derivation of the name, ii. 17, and 
 
 note. 
 Hermitage of St. John, account of, ii. 78. 
 Heron, purple, account of one. i. 353. 
 Herring, Brigadier, notice of, iii, 190. 
 Hertha, goddess, superstitknis reverence for, i. ^\. 
 Hessory-tor, i. 56 ; quarry in the side of, 291. 
 Hesus, the God of Battles of the ancient Britons, i. 5G; criminals 
 
 sacrificed to, 111. 
 Higher \YhiteTor, i. 120. 
 Hill Bridge, account of, iii. 333. 
 
 Hinge of a door, probable origin of the word, i. 80, note. 
 Historical blunders, specimens of, ii. 30 ; value of historical plays and 
 
 novels when they adhere to truth, 31. 
 Hitchins, Mr. John, the artist, the Devonshire Rysdale, ii. 309. 
 
 account of, iii. 126. 
 Hobby, its probable origin, and the notice of, i. 327. 
 Hody, Judge, notice of, ii. 327. 
 Holiday sports, notice of, ii. 2S6. 
 Homer, Cicero's censure of, ii. 37. 
 Honey buzzard of Devon, i. 67. 
 Honey-stealing by fairies and pixies, iii. 22. 
 Hopton, Sir Ralph, victory obtained hj, iii. 38 ; at Stratton Heights, 
 
 40. 
 Horrabridge, picturesque view of, iii. 332. 
 
 Horse Bridge, conjecture concerning it, ii. 82 j its beauty and situa- 
 tion, 83, note. 
 ' Horse-furniture, magnificent set of, iii. 82. 
 Horses, wild, of Dartmoor, picturesque beauty of, i. 64 ; the supposed 
 
 organs of the gods, in ancient idolatry, 92; deuication of horses to 
 
 the sun, and probable derivation of the hobby, 328. 
 Hound starting at midnight, ii. 320. 
 House-marten, industry uf, described, iii. 21. 
 Howard, Lady, the theme of modern tradition, ii. 123; stories of, 
 
 299, 320. 
 , history of, iii. 47; her numerous marriages, beauty, and 
 
 wealth, 48 ; married to Sir Richard Gr^Miville, 49 ; time of her 
 
 death uncertain, 54 ; the goblin hound, t'y.; traditionary story of 
 
 Lady Howard and her daughter, 55.
 
 358 INDEX. 
 
 Hu, god. the Bacchus of the Druids, i. 53 ; description of the cere- 
 monies in procession to, 141. 
 
 Hu Gadran, the peaceful ploughman, i. 81, note. 
 
 Huckworthy, scenery at, iii. 332. 
 
 Human victims, sacrificial immolation of, i. 111. 
 
 Hurd, Bishop, tutor to the Prince of Wales, iii. 306. 
 
 Hurdwick, Baron, i. 250. One of the titles of the Uuke of Bedford, 
 li. 97. 
 
 Hut-rings on Dartmoor, i. 125. 
 
 I & J. 
 
 Jago, Rev. Dr., i. 13 ; stories relattd by, ii. 320. 
 
 Ictis, port, what it was, i. 155. 
 
 Idolatrj-, ancient groves the seat of, i. 91. 
 
 Jeffries, Judge, not the originator of Lydford law, iii. 12; the court- 
 room at Lydford visited by his ghost in the shape of a black 
 pig, 13. 
 
 Jenny C.'s story, iii. 61. 
 
 Jerningham, the poet, notice of, iii. 305. 
 
 Jews, flourishing state of the silver-mines of Devon under their 
 management, i. 156. 
 
 Imagination, vigorous, of the Druids, i. 46. 
 
 Ina's Coombe, poetical allusion to, iii. 22. 
 
 Inclined Plane Tor, i. 290. 
 
 Infidelity, the vice of the present age, ii, 46. 
 
 Inga Tor and Innator Tor, i. 279, 
 
 Initiation, Druidical, i. 145, 
 
 Insanity, why less prevalent among women than among men, ii, 44. 
 
 Inscribed stones, Mr. Bray's account of, i, 360, et seq. 
 
 Inscriptions, rural, on the granite at Bair-down, i, 75 ; Druidical and 
 other inscriptions, 79, 81 ; inscriptions on monumental stones and 
 pillars, 149. Garden inscriptions, ii. 149. 
 
 John, St., Mr,, portrait of the sister of. iii, 78. 
 
 John, St,, Hermitage of, notice of, ii, 78 ; well of. 80, 
 
 John, St., grant of "the chapel by the Earl of Bedford, 1677, iii. 139, 
 note. 
 
 John's, St., romantic scenery of, ii, 144. 
 
 Johnes, Rev. Thomas, letter from, containing an account of the ani- 
 mals, &c. of Dartmoor, i. 339 ; of its birds, 345. 
 
 Johnson, Dr,, Life of Savage, i. 86, note ; remark on Rochester's 
 ' Nothing,' 88, note. Causes of there being fewer women who lost 
 their reason than men, ii. 44. 
 
 Josiah, destruction by, of idolatrous practices, i. 91, 92, 
 
 Ireland, stone-memorials of, vestiges of Druidical inscriptions on, i. 49, 
 note ; the masses of granite that form Stone-henge brought from 
 Ireland, 80, note. 
 
 Judge's Chair, on Crockern-tor, i, 118, 119. 
 
 Judgment-seat, Druidical, i. 166, 226, 227. 
 
 Judicature, ancient British, seats of, i. 110. 
 
 Jurisprudence of primitive nations, i. 50: ancient British seat of, 
 105, 110. 
 
 Justice ofthe Druids, testimony to, i. 50; courts of, described, 110, lU.
 
 INDEX. 
 K. 
 
 359 
 
 Kempe, A. Johu i o ^^ ' '''"'^• 
 
 mology ^f the'name Tlif^^'i" ^""P^ "^ the >7,u 3^l , ^ 
 
 ";iiwomi3 , account of ii qm . 
 
 King Tor. i 079 °'' "• ^1^3, et seq. 331. 
 
 6, presents on receiving 
 
 iX^ \^^f' ^^r^' '" ^^^'■^-^'- ^" -^00., iii. us. 
 ^--e.to„: SS;'St7^^^^ "^ -• ^ '^' "o^e. 
 I-aw-courts of the Druic l i n n°' "'^ '*^- 
 I-aws, traditional-,. ^V'-' ^^^• 
 I-eamin^.e^; "i'"^'?"^"tnatic 
 
 ■18- Of the 
 
 Xe£n^'"^^"^--'^°'ii 60!""^"' ^"*-^^ priesthood, i. 
 
 J-eet, .f . nZ'ZTD^rT'' ^^ '^^'^ «=^dar of ii 1 4 , 
 I-egend of the old t"ees ^n ?' '■ -^-- 
 I-egends, fairy. See F "'.^^^t-^oor, i. 99. 
 
 I-ent-crockinj/, noti e onhT: 't'^ ^"^ ^«''^-- 
 
 J^i'le. Abbe de'. iii. 310 
 J-imebairow. i. 260 
 -Linnaeus, i. 31 g^
 
 360 INDEX. 
 
 Literature, how far indebted to the Benedictines, ii. 65 ; its huma- 
 nizing influence. 66. 
 
 LittlebeeTor, i. 120. 
 
 Liturgies, earliest, composed in Greek and Latin, ii. 67. 
 
 Livingus, account of, ii. 88, et seq. ; horrible storm at his death, 92 ; 
 presagei'ul thunders when about to expire, 150. 
 
 Loadstone of Dartmoor, i. 307. 
 
 Local scener}', its influence on the mind of a f oet, iii. 5, 
 
 Loda, same as Odin, i. 85. 
 
 Logan stone, origin of the expression, i. 26 ; celebrated logau of 
 Cornwall overthrown by a lieutenant in the navy, 54, note, 387 ; 
 ordeal of the logan, 111; purposes for which used by the artful 
 Druids, 153; signification of logan in Cornish, 219; pretended 
 miracles with the logan stones in the hands of the Druids, ib. 
 
 Long, Mr., his little son rescued from drowning, iii. 113. 
 * Longbetor, i. 258. 
 
 Long creeper snake, i. 322. 
 
 Longevity, instance of, i. 254; at Tavistock, iii. 171. 
 
 Longford' Tor, notice of, i. 120, 121. 
 
 Lopez, Sir Ralph, i.362; his handsome present, ii. 152. 
 
 Lot and Sprig Alphabets of the Druids, i. 49, note. 
 
 Lots of divination, i. 152. 
 
 Love, inconstancy of friendship in, ii. 1 9. 
 
 Love-plants, picturesque, i. 318. 
 
 Louis, Monsieur, the French giant, iii. 157. 
 
 Lower-white Tor, i. 120. 
 
 Lucan, impression made on the Roman soldiery bv the sacred oaks, 
 i. 98. 
 
 Lucian, beautiful allegory told by, i. 46. 
 
 Luggars, brothers, melancholy effects of superstition on, ii. 127. 
 
 Luminous mineral evaporations, i. 304. 
 
 Liiscombe, Jane, account of, iii. 106. 
 
 Lustrations, Druidieal, i. 152, 386. 
 
 Lycidas of Milton, on what modelled, iii. 8. 
 
 Lyde, Rev. George, his undaunted conduct during the earthquake, 
 i. 312. 
 
 Lydford Castle, its distance from Tavistock, iii. 11; Lydford Law, 
 origin of, and poetical allusion to, 12. 
 
 Lj'ric Hymns, notice of, with extracts, iii. 241. 
 
 M. 
 
 Mad woman, traditionary story by, respecting the Great Rebellion, 
 
 iii. 60. 
 Magic, pagan, i. 95 ; magic wands of the Druids, 96 ; ointment for 
 
 the eyes, 185. 
 Malmesbury, scene of Ethelwold's murder, ii. 25. 
 Manatons, and the Manaton service, notice of, ii. 339. 
 Manes, beautiful, i. 128 ; deformity caused by cropping the raaues of 
 
 horses, 129. 
 Manganese of Dartmoor, i. 304. 
 Marbles of Devonshire, i. 305. 
 Maribtow, account of the church of, iii. 72.
 
 INDEX. 361 
 
 Martens in Christmas week, at Plj-mpton, i. 8. 
 Martyrolo)i;y, chainini^ of for secuiit}-, ii. \22. note, 125. 
 Wary Ovtry, St.. far-fetched etymology of, i. 3SS. 
 Mary Tavy Rock, beautiful appearance of, iii. 286. 
 Mason, the freebooter, account of, iii. 258. 
 
 Mason's Elfrida, ii. 29 ; destruction of historical truth in it, 30 ; its 
 merits as a poem, ib. Lamented his ignorance of mathematics, 
 iii. 315. 
 
 Mathematical figure on the sand of a supposed uninhabited island, 
 i. 137,138. 
 
 Mathematics, ii^noranee of, lamented by Gray and Mason, iii. 315. 
 
 Mathias, Mr., distich on, i. 87. 
 
 , iii. 207; originof the friendship between liim and Mr. Bray, 
 
 208 ; regret at his recent death, 303 ; conversations with and letters 
 to Mr. Bray, 311, et spq. ; Latin inscription for a silver cup. 322. 
 
 Maury, Cardinal, his ignorant remarks on English divines, ii. 106. 
 
 May, 28th of, holiday of, ii. 288. 
 
 May-day, high festival to tlie sun on, i. 325 ; May-fiies, 326 ; sacri- 
 fices on Ma3'-t:-ve, ib. : celebration of May-day, 3l7. 
 
 Maynard, Sir John, notice of. iii. 344. 
 
 Meavy oak described, iii. 96 : account of the village, 97, 93. 
 
 Mechanical ingenuity, remarkable instances of in. 129. 
 
 Medicine, school of, always attached to Benedictine monasteries, ii. 
 146, 7iote. 
 
 Mercury's caduceus, had its origin in Brirain, i. 96. 
 
 Merlin's cave, inscriptiim for a rock near, i. 78 ; legend of his origin 
 and magic powers, SO, note. 
 
 Merrivale bridge, circles, &c. near, described, i. 140; further account 
 of the circles of stone, 158 : derivation of the word Merrivale, 297 ; 
 fate of the rocks close to, 391. 
 
 Metempsychosis, Druidical, i. 82. 
 
 Midsummer-day, old, custom of the farmers on, i. 337. Rustic super- 
 stition practised on, ii. 287. 
 
 Miguel, Don, i. 292. 
 
 Milton's description of Satan's journey, i. 131 ; of Eden, ii. 141. His 
 Lycidas, on «hat supposed to have been modelled, iii. 8; the 
 ' Masque of Comus,' why not derived from the ' Masque of Circe/ 17. 
 
 Mineralogy cjf Dartmoor, i. 304. 
 
 Mining and mines of Dartmoor, account of, iii. 255 ; superstition of 
 the miners, 258. 
 
 Minona, distich on, and signification of, i. 85. 
 
 Misletoe, custom of cutsing by the Druids, i. 93; rarity on the oak^ 
 and where seen by Mr.Southey, 335, note. 
 
 Mistor of Dartmoor, i. 57 ; descriljeil, 245 ; Mistor Pan, pppuJar 
 legend respecting, ib. note ; origin of its name, 287. 
 
 Mists of Dartmoor, i. 36, 6 4, 168 ; dangers from the suddeu rcists, 193. 
 
 Mithra, or Misor, sun worshipped under the name of, i. 57. 
 
 Mona, island in the river Cowsick, i 83. 
 
 Monasteries, reflectioiis on the luility and abuse of, ii. 38 ; evils of 
 monastic observances, 44 ; literary benefits accruing from monas- 
 teries, 68 ; reflections on the ruins of, 73; evils attendant on the 
 dissolution of monasteries, 101, cl se<j. 
 VOL. III. R
 
 364 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 184; bucket of fair water, 1S3 ; enchanted flowers, 191 ; Pixy grot, 
 232; distinguishinjif nature of picsics, ib.note; derivation oi ijLtu bv 
 Mr. Bray, 33],Mo/f. ^ » J 
 
 Plague at Tavistock, i. 160. A case of plague, iii. 174. 
 
 Planets, idolatrous notions of Indians respecting, ii. 222. 
 
 Plympton. Prior of. benefactions to the Abbey of Tavistock, ii. 94. 
 
 Plymstock, successful stratagem of the friars to obtain Childe's land, 
 ii. 54, 55. 
 
 Poet, character of the true one portrayed, iii. 14; contrasted view of 
 good and debased poets, 15. 
 
 Poetry, genius for, of the bards of Britain, i. 47. 
 
 Polwhele. Mr., considers that the Romai.s never penetrated into Dart- 
 moor, i. 106, note; desciiption of Br^-nt Tor, 255. 
 
 Rev. Richard, remark on the falsehood respecting Judge 
 
 Glanville, ii. d'17. 
 
 Pope, anecdotes of, iii. 305, 306. 
 
 Popes arid the Druids, resemblances between, i.51. 
 
 Portrait painting of the old and modern school, iii. 77. 
 
 Post Bridge, its vast flat stones, i. -J'JO. 
 
 Potato, historic notice of. i. 161 
 
 Potter, the translator of ^schylus, his indigent circumstances, iii. 
 306 ; his subsequent preferment, 307. 
 
 Prideaux quoted, i. 307. 
 
 Priesthood, ancient, of Britain, their genius for poetr\-, i. 47 ; their 
 learn ng and speculative phd(>sophy,48 ; imposing appearance of the 
 Druiilical priesthood preparatory to the ceremonial of justice. 111. 
 
 Printing, date of its introduction into England, ii. 132; early printed 
 books at Tavistock, 13-3. 
 
 Procession, Dniidical, i. 141. 
 
 Propylieum of Tavistock, notice of. iii. 147. 
 
 Providence, instances of its merciful order and ■roverntnent, ii. 136, 
 137. ° ' 
 
 Prout, subject for his pencil, ii. 1 14. 
 
 Punch made in the rock-basins of Dartmoor, i. 53. 
 
 Punch-bowl tree, grotesque figure of, iii. 201. 
 
 Pym, the notorious, member for Tavistock, iii. 30. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Quarterly Review, interest excited by the paper on Mary Colling in 
 the, iii. 133. 
 
 R. 
 
 Rabbit burrows, sin'_'ular, notice of, i. 3.S9. 
 
 Radcliffe, Mrs., of Warleigh, notice of extraordinary myrtles, i. 7. 
 
 Rail-road, Dartmoor, excursion to, i. 278. 
 
 Rains, heavy, formidable consequences of, on Dartmoor, i. 154. 
 
 Raleigh (nephew of Sir Walter), notice of, and of his sermons, ii. 
 
 105. 
 Raven, considered the harbinger of death, i. 59. The banner of the 
 
 raven a figure of the destructive victories of the Danes, ii. 10. 
 Raven Rock, roir.aiitic locality of, iii. 263. 
 Real presence, penalty for denying, ii. 181, note.
 
 INDEX. 365 
 
 Rebellion, Great, historic notices of, in connexion with Tavistock^, iii. 
 
 Red (leer of Devonshire, i. 340. 
 
 Red earth of Exeter, its brilliance and fertility, i. 306 ; Otaheitan 
 
 tradition, ib. note. 
 Refectory, TavistDck, notice of, ii. 1 12, note, 114. 
 
 Reform procession at Tavistock, account of, iii. 171. 
 
 Reformation, devastations committed at the. ii. 15 ; its general effects 
 on human opinion, 37 ; reflections on the wicked spirit in which 
 it was effected, 71 ; sins of the reformation particularized, 101, 
 et seq. 
 
 Register, church, notice of an early one, of 1539, ii. 124. 
 
 Religion, natural and softening impressions of, on the peasant's mind, 
 iii. 104. 
 
 Religious influence on the affairs of nations, general reflections on, 
 ii. 35. 
 
 Religious warmth, its diminution with the increase of selfishness, 
 iii. 92. 
 
 Religious reflections on the works of nature, ii. 137. 
 
 Repton, Mr., compliment by, to Mr. Bray, ii. 153. 
 
 Retirement, religious, advantages of, ii. 42. 
 
 Richardson, author of the 'Roliiad,' notice of, and of Miss Richard- 
 son, iii. 20S, and note, 209. 
 
 Risdon, his reputation as an antiquary, ii. 25. 
 
 Roads, Roman mode of making, exhaustless supply of stones for 
 on Dartmoor, i. 288. 
 
 Roasting apparatus, ingenious, account of, iii. 129. 
 
 Roasting the shoe, sport of, ii. 237. 
 
 Robin, his tenderness and symjjatfiy, ii. 290. 
 
 Robinson, Mrs., anecdote of the Prince of Wales's rendezvous with, 
 iii. 307. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe, effects of reailiug, i. 265. 
 
 Robjohns, brothers, account of, iii. 129. 
 
 Roborough Down, account of, iii. 330. 
 
 Rochester, distich on Nothing, i. 88. 
 
 Rock-basins of Dartmoor, i. 53; mystical water in, 152 ; figure and 
 account of rock-basins, 217 ; then- probable use in Druidical super- 
 stition, 218 ; further accounts of rock-basins, 227, et seq. 257 ; 
 rock-ordeal, 244. 
 
 Rocking-stones, purposes of in the hands of the Druids, i. 153 ; how 
 used, 219; rocking-stone at Land's End raised again, 228, note. 
 
 Roman Catholics, heathen origin of manj' of ihe ceremonies of their 
 chm-cli, i. 323 ; imposmg character of its rites, 329. Superstitions 
 engrafted by the inventors of Romish frauds and traditions, ii. 37. 
 
 Romans, the, civilization attendant on their conquests, ii. 10. 
 
 Romantic stories, ii. 256, 257. 
 
 Rome, ignorant state of the people at the overthrow of the church of, 
 ii. 103. 
 
 Roosetor, derivation of and account of, i. 238. 
 
 Rose. fuil-l)lown, superstitious plucking of, on Midsummer-day, ii. 287 
 
 Rougemont Castle, wlience it derives its name, i. 306. 
 
 r3
 
 36G INDEX. 
 
 Row<!on Wood, picturesque site of, iil. 267, 268 ; remarkable storm at, 
 
 208, 269. 
 Rowe, the translator of Lucan, where born, i. 98. 
 Rowe, Rev. Mr., rector of I.amertoii, his son, the poet, where born, iii. 
 
 92; emotions of the poet in contemjilating Mr. Tremaine's monu- 
 ■ ment, 93. 
 
 Rumon, St., ii. &0, 55 ; his history, 56. 
 Rundle. John. K-q. M.V., munificent donation by to the public library 
 
 of Tavistock, iii. 147 ; his public and private character, ib. vote. 
 Ruudle, Mr. John, the builder, account of, iii. 151. 
 Ruudle's* stone, i. 258. 
 
 Runtanf;, extraordinary instance of, i. 262. 
 Russell L 'rd John, grant of the dissolved Abbey of Tavistock to, by 
 
 letter's jiatt-nt, ii. 107 ; titles and dignities conferred on him by 
 
 Henry VIII., 107, 108 ; short notice of the house of Russell, lOS. 
 Russell family, pension on the vicar of Tavistock, iii. 36, tiote. 
 Ryiio, lines on, i. 85. 
 
 S. 
 
 Sailors, old, impostors under the garb of, iii. 159. 
 
 Saltash. defeat at, iii. 38. 
 
 Salting lui in, story of, i. 32. 
 
 Sampford Spiney, tin mines of, i 304 ; crystals, 30G. 
 
 Sarah, stor\ of, ii. 257. 
 
 Sarcophagus, ancient, notice of, ii. 112. 
 
 Satanic school, remark on the followers of, ii. 282. 
 
 Saunders, Mr., devastations on the remains of Tavistock committed 
 hy, ii. 109, and note, 110. 
 
 Saxon school at Tavistock, notice of, ii. 131. 
 
 Saxons, arrival of, and foundation of tlie West Saxon kingdom in 
 England, ii. Si ; contests between the Saxons and Britons, 85, 
 
 Scarlet moss used for dye, i. 127. 
 
 Scenery of Dartmoor, i. 58. Beautiful, iii. 93. 
 
 Schools, Druidical, i. 50. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, iii. 72. 
 
 Scymerons, notices of the, ii. 201. 
 
 Secrecy of the Druidical rites and religion, i. 58. 
 
 Seneca, defines woman as an animal fond of dress, ii. 314. 
 
 Serpents, charming, i. 96. 
 
 Seward, Miss, her mistake respecting Gawthorpe Hall, ii, 30. 
 
 Sexton, singular custom of. ii. 127. 
 
 Sharpytor, account of, i. 277. 
 
 Sheepstor described, i. 233. Sublime and beautiful scenery on the 
 road to, iii. 98, 100 ; the valley, 101 ; the church, 102 ; the church- 
 yard, 103; moral reflections, 'l 04 : the tor of granite, 105 ; visita- 
 tion of cholera, 1 10. 
 
 Shepherd's Calendar, cited, iii. 272. 
 
 Sheridan, his character at the period of Mr. Bray's acquaintance with 
 bini, iii. 209. 
 
 Shiriff, :ippointment and duties of, ii. 16. 
 
 >hield, his amiability and sensitiveness, iii. 209. 
 
 Ship, glass. See G/ass.
 
 INDEX. 367 
 
 Shirley characterised, iii. 41 ; beautiful oiortody on the death of 
 Cliarles I., 42, note. 
 
 Slioe, roasting of the, ii. 287. 
 
 Shoot fur shut, used by the lower classes in Devonshire, i. 131. 
 
 Shiove Tuesday, holiday sport on, ii. 286. 
 
 Shiite, etyniolof;^y of, i. 132. 
 
 Shuttle, melancholy anecdote of lifting the, iii. 80. 
 
 Silver mines of the ancient Britons, i. 155 ; enormous' silver cup 
 presented to the City of London, 156 ; story of thejiixy silver, ls8. 
 
 Sixteenth century, its corruption and immorality, ii. 102. 
 
 Slanniiig, Sir Nicholas, iii. 36 ; extracts from his muster-roll, 37)fiole ; 
 his extraordinary f^allantry and death, 41. 
 
 Slate, valuable, of Dartmoor, i. 305 ; beautiful specimen of carving in 
 slate, ib. 
 
 Smith, Mr. Edward, biographical historj'' of, i. 193; his letter ad- 
 dressed to Mr. Bray, 207 ; visit to Mistor, 208. 
 
 Smith, the late Major, acc<iunt of, iii. 120. 
 
 Smitten-hart lane,i. 273. 
 
 Snake, a monstrous one, iii. 163. 
 
 Snow in Ma)', i. 12 ; story of a deep fall of snow, 9. 
 
 Snow-drops, early, in Devon, i. 13. 
 
 Softening words, mode of, by the people of Devon, i. 121 . 
 
 Sonnet to Wistman's Wood, i. 99. 
 
 Sortilege, substances used in. i. 152. 
 
 Sortridge, excursion to, iii. 336. 
 
 South Beetor, i. 258. 
 
 Southey, Robert, ICsq., Letters to, i. 1 ; plan of the work suggested by 
 the Laureate, 1,2; his opinion of the means by which the tors were 
 formed, 228, note; not partial to botany, 315. Causes of the late 
 establishment of Christianity in the West, ii. 10, note; on the story 
 of the itone at Drake's marriage. \7-\,notp; on Drake's dealings 
 with the devil. 175; value of traditionary tales and nursery-songs, 
 276. 
 
 Spenser, lines on a butterfly, ii. 139. His fable of the bramble and 
 the o.ik inimitable, iii. 17, 
 
 Sphinx of the moor, i. 62. 
 
 Sphinx of Kgypt, resemblance to of a tor on Dartmoor, i. 213, 214. 
 
 Spires of churches, unknown in the neighbourhood of Tavistock, 
 i. 314. 
 
 Spiritual agency, remarks on, ii. 46. 47. 
 
 Spoliations of the tors, i. 280, 287, 292. 
 
 Sports, rustic, notice of. ii. 2S6. 
 
 Sprig alphabet of the Druids, i. 49, nole ; of Ireland, ib. ; triad in 
 allusion to, 82. 
 
 Springs, sacred, of the Druids, i. 59. 
 
 Squaring of the circle, i. 390. 
 
 Squirrel, poetical descri[)tion of boys hunting the, iii. 20. 
 
 Slag in chase described, iii. 21. 
 
 StamCord, Earl of, retires in disorder into Tavistock, iii. 38. 
 
 Stannary courts, method of holding, i. 113; great antiquity of, i*. 
 note; table of the court, and powerof the warden, 117; seat of the 
 president of the Stannators, 119. 
 
 Stapletor, acco int of, i. 239.
 
 368 . INDEX. 
 
 stays, tight, ftital effects of, instanced, iii. "7, note. 
 
 Steniieu hill, barrows on, i. i'21. 
 
 Stevens, George, meldncholy story of, i. 263. 
 
 Still-house, the, ii.l43, 151; described, 148, 154. 
 
 Stone, fabrics of unhewn, of Eastern origin, i. 1 09 ; description of 
 those of Dartmoor, and use of stoae-memorials by nations of anti- 
 quity, 110, 1 1 1 ; stone-seats of judgment, \\2, note ; stone-table of 
 the court ofStannators, 1 1 9 ; present state of, ib. ; Cyclopean stone- 
 euclusures, 124; ancient massy stone-chairs described and figured, 
 134; stone-circles, 150; account of those near Merrivale liridge, 
 158; stOne-hedges, how formed, 159; account of inscribed stones, 
 360, 368 ; stones proliably used as barriers inpublic games, 366. 
 
 Stonehenge, reasons for its pre-eminence as a Druidical antiquity, 
 i. 61; meani;;g of the term Stonehenge, 80, note; treaclierous 
 slaughter of the ancient Britons near, 142; a temple of the sun, 
 147, note. 
 
 Stone-kaocker, notice of, i. 320. 
 
 Storm, violent, account of. i.olO ; terrific, of Dartmoor, 314. Remark- 
 able, account of, iii. 2G8. 
 
 Storm-thrush, notice of, ii. 148. 
 
 Slotbard, Mr., sen., i. 316. 
 
 Stow, ori.rinal k-tters fouud at, iii. 84. 
 
 Stratton Hi-i-hts, battle of, iii. 34, 35, 40. 
 
 Strike, its signification in the Devonshire vocabulary, i. 185. 
 
 Strolling company of players, story of the mistress of one, iii. 154. 
 
 Strong, plague received from a great coat, iii. 174. 
 
 Stuait, Walking, biographical sketch and anecdotes of, iii. 210; 
 further characteristics and anecdotes of, 304. 
 
 Sublime scenery, its efiijcts on the mind, iii. 100. 
 
 Subterranean passage, mysterious, discovered, ii. 295. 
 
 Sun, a universal object of adoration, i. 56; traces of the worship of in 
 Britain, 57 ; idolatrous worship of by the .Tews and Celtic nations, 
 91, 92 ; human sacrifices to. 111; high festival of the sun in the 
 spring season, why so chosen, 325. 
 
 Sunday, a day of rest to the peasant, iii. 104. 
 
 Superstitions', Druidical, i. 51; superstitious worship of Jews and 
 Celts, 92; of the people of Devon, 332. Superstitions invented by 
 the Roman Catholics, ii. 37 ; case of the melancholy ( Ifects of 
 superstition, 127; rustic superstitions, 287; ancient superstitions 
 described, 291. 
 
 Swallows, house, partictdars of, i. 7. 
 
 Swell, or Swill Tor, i. 290. 
 
 Swiss scenery, near Endsleigh, described, iii. 281, 282. 
 
 Sydenham register, notice of, ii. 125. 
 
 , in the neighbourhood of Tavistock, iii. 71 ; accoiuit of, 
 
 73; paintuigs at, 76; curious ancient furniture, 80 ; magniticent 
 housings, 82 ; secret chambers, 83 ; Mr. Bray's recollections of 
 Sydenham, 87, 
 
 T. 
 
 Tacitus, gloom of the ancient groves of oak, i. 59; notices of the 
 
 superstitious rites of the ancient Germans, 92. 
 Tales of the West, projected series of, i. 180.
 
 INDEX. 369 
 
 Tales, Old, ii. 276 ; an old witch, '277; Heathfield, and the young 
 lady and the hounds, 280. 
 
 of afHiction, iii. \77,et seq. 
 
 Taliessin, called Pen-Beirdd, i. 75; magic wands of the Druids, 96; 
 m3stical water, the fountain of his inspiration, 13'2. 
 
 Tamar, re<l deer on its banks, i. 3-10; birds enumerated, 350,355. 
 The division between Cora wall and Devon, ii. 2; broad and dee]), 
 26. Beautiful ride to the Tamar and surrounding scenery, iii. 2/9. 
 
 Tamare, Cantred of, i. 117, 7iole ; Tamerton, probably i he ancient 
 Tamare, 371. 
 
 Taronuy, the god of Thunder, i. 146, note. 
 
 Tasker, Mr., his physiognomical prediction respecting Mr. Bray, iii. 
 194; notice of his ode, j6. 
 
 Taylor, Mr., iii. 304. 
 
 Tavistock, climate of, i. 3 ; causes of its humidity, 5 ; proofs of its 
 extraordiuiiry mildaes-s, 7 ; plague at, IGO ; its abbot called to the 
 Hous-; of Peers by the title of Baron Hurdwick, 250 ; inscribed 
 stones at Tavistock, 374; monks of Winchester who became 
 abbots of Tavistock, 379 ; arms of the abbey, 382, 383. 
 
 General description of the town, its site, antiquities, &c., ii. 
 
 2,etseq.; etymology of the name, 5, and note; the Vicarage, 6 ; 
 rise, progress, and benefits of Christianity, 9 ; the abbey, by whom 
 and when founded, 14; its present ruin, (6. ; stury of Elfrida, 17; 
 reflections on the influence of religion on the character of nations, 
 34; spirit of the old catholic faith, 3G ; character of the Church of 
 Rome, 37; advantages and evils of monachism. 38, el seq.; re- 
 marks on the spiritual agency of dreams, 46 ; the foundation 
 of Tavistock Abbej' ascribed to a dream, 48; the abbey when 
 commenced, 49; general history of the abbey, its foundation, 
 prosperity, and overthrow, 49, et seq. ; curious story of Childe of 
 Plymstock, 53, et seq. ; the first abbot, 58 ; Dunstan, 60; Algarus, 
 62; the Augustines and Benedictines, 62, et seq.'J37 ; the bible, 
 68; St. Benedict and Totila, 71 ; reflections on the ruins of Ta- 
 vistock Abbey, 73, 77; the Walk, 7S; the Hermitage of St. John, 
 79 ; AVell of St. John, 80 ; abbey burnt by the Danes, 81 ; portion 
 of the boundary walls, fire-proof, the only jiart left of the original 
 building, 87 ; rebuilding of the abbey, ib. ; benefactors of the 
 abbey, ih. ; remarkable persons who ended their days in the abbey, 
 92; number of its abbots, 95 ; costly attire of Dynington, ii.; his 
 repairs and additions to the ahbevi 96; poverty of the parish 
 priest, ib.; rank and revenues of the abbot, 97; dissolution of 
 the abbey, 100; sins of the Reformation, 100, et seq.; circum- 
 stances attending its dissolution, and the grant of the abbey to 
 whom made, 107; account of the vestiges of the ancient building, 
 108, 111; havoc committed to make way for Abbey House, 109; 
 the south-west gateway, 1 10 ; Grimbal's Tower, 111; discovery of 
 infant bones, and of the giant^s bunes, 112; historic notice of the 
 parish church, 115; curious churchwarden's acconnts of the 9th 
 Richard II., 1 16 ; church of St. Eustace, 118 ; pictures and church 
 registers, 119, 120; Mr. Bray's account of Tavistock church, 125; 
 inclosure of the churchyard by an iron raihng, 126, no/e; ancient 
 monuments, 128, et seq.; Saxon school, 131; the printing press,
 
 370 INDEX. 
 
 and notice of early-printed books at Tavistock, 132, 133; tbe Vica- 
 rage garden, 142; romantic situation of Tavistock Abbey. 144; 
 birds and anionals, 145, et seq. ; garden inscriptions, 149 ; the Still- 
 house, 143, 151, 154; monuments of antiquity, 152; the battle- 
 ments, 153; scenery. &c. 145, 148, 151, 156: Crowndale and the 
 parish clerk, 156, 157; Sir Francis Drake, 166,170, 178: popular 
 legends, 249, et seq. ; the eccentric farmer, 255 ; Baretti, 271 ; old 
 tales and legends, 274, et seq. ; ancient customs, &c. 235. 
 
 Tavistock, scener\- iu its neighbourhood, notice of \Valla Brook, and 
 of Browne the poet, with specimens of his poetry, lii. 2, 20 ; history 
 of the town during the Great Rebellion, 27, et seq.; disloyalty ivi 
 Tavistock during this period, and causes of it, 35 ; traditionary 
 stories, 55 ; premises pulled down to clear the way for the butter- 
 market, 59; extract from • Tavistock's Kncomium,' C5 ; remarkable 
 and conspicuous person. iges of Tavistock, 113, 149, 150; l\Iary 
 Colling, 130; charities, 136; present charities, 144; schools, 145; 
 public library, 146; propylseum, 147; museum, 149; a herbal pro- 
 posed, ih.; strolling players, 155; amusements, 157; mendicant 
 
 '^ impostors, 153 : monstrous snake. 163 ; surve\- and valuation, 165; 
 municipal government and poltical state of the town, 166,167; 
 number of voters under the Reform Bdl, 166, note ; its ancient im- 
 portance, 168 ; markets and guildhall, 169 ; extraordinary feud, 
 ib.; Reform procession, 171; salubrit}- of Tavistock, 172; plague 
 iu 1626, 17.3; curious instance of disease, 174 ; cholera, 175 ; tales 
 of affliction, 177; biographical notices of eminent personages of 
 Tavistock, — Mr. Bray, 187; John Winter, 249; 3Ir. Pearse's 
 letter on the mines near Tavistock, with anecdotes of mining, 253, 
 et seq.; account of scenery in the neighbomhood, 261,270; ac- 
 count of the abbots of Tavistock, from Alraer down to the suppres- 
 sion, 291, et seq.; revenues of tiie Abbey, 299; license for the 
 abbot to wear the pontificalia, 300. 
 
 Tavy, river, its ancient importance, i. 15; Tavy Cleave, 21 ; account 
 of the source of the Tavy, 256; excursion to Tavy-head, 259; to 
 Tavy Cleave, 274. Its source, and accovuit of the town which 
 takes its name from it, ii. 2 ; its picturesque course, 78, SO ; scenery 
 on its banks described, 167. 
 
 scenery of the locality of the junction of the Tavy and Walk- 
 ham, iii. 252. 
 
 views and scenery in the neighbourhood of Tavy Cleave, iii. 287. 
 
 Taylor, Bishop, recommendation to print his sermons abridged, iii. 
 316; piety and eloquence of the old divines, 318; his dignity of 
 style, 323. 
 
 Tea-tree, planting of one, ii. 152. 
 
 Teeth, early decay of among the young women, ii. 291. 
 
 Temple-Bar, resemblance of the gate of Tavistock Abbey to, ii. 109. 
 
 Thistle, holy, rustic notions of its efficacy, ii. 293. 
 
 Thunder-storm, horrible, at the deatli of Livingus, ii. 92. 
 
 Tiddebrook, curious ancient builduig at, iii. 330, 331. 
 
 Tin melting, assa\ing and coining of, notice of, i. 117; punishment 
 for bringing bad tin to market. 113; tin an ingredient iu the cele- 
 brated i'j-fi'i" ''}'•-'" procured from Britain by the PhcEnicians, tb.; 
 two varieties of tin in the fissures of grey granite, 304. 
 
 Tiranes, a god of the aborigines of Dartmoor, i. 36.
 
 I>DEX, 371 
 
 Toad, curious account of one, i. 322. 
 
 Tolmen, ordeal of the, i. Ill : use of in diseases, 120; diagrams, mean- 
 ing of the word in Cornish, and account of tolmens, 242. et seq. ; 
 creeping under to cure diseases practised in Ireland, 243, note; 
 account of tolmens on Over Tor, 3&S. 
 
 Tooke, Home, his character as a reasoner, iii. 213 ; cause of his 
 violence against the voUuiteer sj'sfem, 215. 
 
 Tooth-ache, superstitious cure for the, ii. 291, 292. 
 
 Tors of Dartmoor, probable significance of their names, in Cornish or 
 Welsh, i. 56 ; enumeration of various tors, 57; faeihties afforded 
 Iqr the tois for Druidical structures. Gl ; approiniated as temples, 
 02; general aspect of the tors, 121; account of tlie several tors 
 and their antiquities, 212. et aeq. 257; the tors how formed, '.'28, 
 and note ; import of the word /or, 251 ; spoliations of the tors, 280, 
 287, 292 ; deficiency of natural causes, 288. Grandeur of the tors 
 as seen from the neighbourhood of the Walkham, iii. 333. 
 
 Totila, propliec}" of his death, and its fulfilment, ii. 72. 
 
 Towers of churches, v/hy wisely constructed low, i. 314. 
 
 Traditionary laws of the aucierit Greeks, i. 50. 
 
 Transmigration of souls^ Caesar's testimony to the Druidical belief in, 
 i. 82, note. 
 
 Trap rock, why so called by the Swedes, i. 116, note. 
 
 Traveller's tale, i. 28. 
 
 Tree, attempt to discover the age of one by its circles, i. 103. 
 
 Trelawny, Sir William, gallant exploit of, iii. 278, 279. 
 
 Tremaine, Col. Arthur, * conjugal' anecdote of, iii. 79. 
 
 ]\Ir. iii. 83 ; character of the late Mr. Tremaine. 84 ; epitaph 
 
 on a grateful parish priest, ib.; discovery of Sir B. Grenville's 
 original letters, by a farmer, 84, 85; origin of the arms and nan^-.e 
 of the Tremaine family, 90; monument and ancestry of tiie Tre- 
 maines, 93; fidelity of Edmund, 94 ; story of the twin brothers, ii. 
 
 Triads, inscriptions in, i. 80; additional, 82. 
 
 Tuckett, farmer, i. 119. 
 
 Tulips, enchanted, i. 191. 
 
 Tumuli, account of, i. 247. 
 
 Turkish slaves, contributions for the redemption of. ii. 123. 
 
 Turks, effects of their religion on them, li. 36. 
 
 Twin- brothers, story of. iii. 94. 
 
 Twin-sisters, anecdote of, iii. 91. 
 
 Tyrian dye, British tin an ingredient in, i. 118. 
 
 Tyrwhitt, Sir Thomas, i. 135,337. 
 
 V. 
 
 Valentine, St. custom at the festival of, ii. 285. 
 Venus de' Medici, of Mr. Desenfant"s collection, iii. 308. 
 Veranda, picturesque, described, ii. 143. 
 
 Vervain, placid, used in the sacred decoction, i. 151 ; usjd in Druid- 
 ical sortilege, 152. 
 Vesta, loss of the, iii. 150. 
 
 Vial, Dr., his popularity as a physician, iii. 199. 
 Vintner's daughter, story of, iii. 63. 
 Vipers, multiplicity of, on Dartmoor, i. 322,
 
 372 INDEX. 
 
 Virtuous Lady, cave and mine of, iii. 264. 
 
 Vixen Tur, basins chiselled on its summit, i. 62; account of a visit to 
 
 the tor, 212; fij^ure of it as seen from the Moreton road, 214; 
 
 second visit to the tor, 220 ; from what it receives its name, 244 ; 
 
 singular form assimied by, 391, 7wte. 
 its majestic aspect, iii. 275 ; its imposing grandeur near 
 
 the Walkham, 339. 
 Volcanic character of the tors, i. 255. 
 Vortigern, base conduct of, ii. 83. 
 
 W. 
 
 Wales, Prince of, tutors of, iii. 306 ; anecdote of, during his acquaint- 
 ance with Mrs. Robinson, 307. 
 
 Walk, the, under the wails of Tavistock Abl)e}-, ii. 7S. 
 
 Walkbam river, head of, i. 202 ; modern late of some of its rocks, 
 391 ; its sublime and picturesque appearance, iii. 262. 
 
 Walkhampton church and surrounding scenery, iii. 332, 333. 
 
 Walking, exlracirdinary instance of, i. 262. 
 
 Walla Brook described, iii. 2; poetical tale of Walla, 19, 24; its 
 junction with the Tavy,26S; lamented head of the key-stone of the 
 foot bridge, 33 1 . 
 
 Walreddon House, traditionary story of, iii. .')5 ; account of, 266; 
 surrounding scenery, 267. 
 
 Walsinton, giant of, ii. 92, 93. 
 
 Wands, magic, ancient. 1.95, 95. 
 
 Ward Bridge, scenery in its neighbourhood, iii. 270, 271 ; pictu- 
 resque grandeur at, 272. 
 
 Warewelle, ii. 25 ; nunnery built at, 28. 
 
 Warleigh, legend of, i. 1 80. 
 
 Warren, excursion to the, i. 294. 
 
 Warton, appointment of to tb.e Laureateship, iii. 307. 
 
 Watchet hangings, what, iii. 82. 
 
 Water, use of, in sacred purposes, by the Dniids, i. 1 5 1 ; mystical, 1 52. 
 
 Waterfalls, picturesque, described, iii. 284, 285. 
 
 Watts, singular structures of, i. 390. 
 
 distich on,i. 87. 
 
 charity at Tavistock, iii. 143. 
 
 Waydown Tor, i. 2;'i8. 
 
 Weales, name of, imposed on the Britons driven west of the Severn, 
 i. 74. 
 
 Well of St. John, reflections on, ii. 80. 
 
 Wells, sacred, i. 151. 
 
 Wessex, the best governed of the Anglo-Saxons kingdoms, ii. 10, 
 note; date when Christianity was first propagated in, 13 
 
 Westlyditon lands, 93 ; singular appropriation of its revenues, 96. 
 
 Wetness of the climate of Tavistock, i. 4. 
 
 Wheatear. or English ortolan, notice of, i. GO. 
 
 Whip-sissa, i, 180. 
 
 Whitchurch Down, pixy perils of, i. 182. 
 
 White-breastfd bird, legend of, i. 60, and note. 
 
 Whitentor, i. 120, 121. 
 
 Whortleberries, delicious, of Dartmoor, i. 317.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 373 
 
 Widdecombe church, dreadful earthquake at, i. 310, 312 ; traditionary 
 legend of the appearance of the devil, 312, note. 
 
 Widow and her son, story of, ii. 249, 
 
 Tales of poor widows, iii. 178, 181. 
 
 Wild flowers of Devon enumerated, i. 318. 
 
 Wilds of Dartmoor, abundance of the granite scattered about, i. 52. 
 
 Willesford, C. Esq., i. 353. 
 
 Mr. Scobel, iii. 129. 
 
 Rev. Richard Vyvyan, iii. 320. 
 
 William the Conqueror, prognostication of his invasion, ii. 92. 
 
 Wilhams, Elizabeth, i. 254. 
 
 Winchester cathedral, by whom commenced, ii. 13. 
 
 Winter, John, a remarkable boy, account of, iii, 249. 
 
 Wisdom of our Saxon ancestors, proof of, ii. 16, 17. 
 
 of Providence illustrated, li. 136. 
 
 Wise, Sir Thomas, iii. 72 ; arms of, 74 ; pictures of his nine daugh- 
 ters, 76 ; family and descendants of, 77, 7S. 
 
 Wistman's, or Wiseman's Wood, Druidical antiquities of, i. 57 ; ety- 
 mological explanation of the term, 73 ; inscription for a rock in, 
 83 ; general description of Wistmaa's Wood, 90 ; in the same 
 state as at the time of the Norman conquest, 93, 7wte ; chorography 
 of the wood, 94; spring at, 97; remnant of a Druid's grove, 98; 
 Sonnet to Wistman's Wood, 99 ; legend of the old trees, ib, ; granite 
 and grove of dwarf oak-trees, 100 ; nests of adders among the 
 granite masses, 101; by whom planted, 102; ancient trees, 103; 
 silver coins, 104 ; the last retreat of the bards, and vestiges of them 
 found in the wood, 107, 108 ; its extent, 122. 
 
 Witch, tale of an old, ii. 277. 
 
 W itchcraft of Dartmoor, i. 37; case of, 261 ; present belief in, among 
 the peasantry of Devonshire, ii. 170, 
 
 Wolcott, Dr., Teter Pindar, iii. 210. 
 
 Wolves, extirpation of by firing the woods, i. 103 ; protections against, 
 124, 125. 
 
 Women, cause of the comparative paucity of, who lose their reason, 
 ii.-44. 
 
 W^ood-dove, lines on, ii. 154. 
 
 Wood Town, notice of, iii. 271. 
 
 Woods, ancient, seats of idolatrous worship, i. 91, 93, 105 ; selection 
 of embowering woods as sites for abbeys, ii. 144. 
 
 Wordsworth, lines cited from, i. 266. 
 
 W^oisen, a Devonshire word, ii. 289, note- 
 
 Wren, golden-crested, notice of, ii. 146,wo/e. 
 
 Wyatt, Mr., iii. 152. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Yeast Tor, i. 279, 280. 
 Yellow-hammer, notice of, i. 319. 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zig-zag ornament of churches of Saxon date, by what suggested, 
 ii. 148.
 
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