VALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

3 9002 06773 6877

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY Gift of

William M. Barnum

DEVON

THE GUILDHALL, EXETER

DEVON
ITS MOORLANDS, STREAMS, & COASTS
BY LADY ROSALIND NORTHCOTE
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
AFTER FREDERICK J. WIDGERY

LONDON EXETER
CHATTO fc? WINDUS JAMES G. COMMIN
M CM VIII

Deep-wooded combes, clear-mounded hills of morn,
Red sunset tides against a red sea-wall,
High lonely barrows where the curlews call,
Far moors that echo to the ringing horn, —
Devon ! thou spirit of all these beauties born,
All these are thine, but thou art more than all :
Speech can but tell thy name, praise can but fall
Beneath the cold white sea-mist of thy scorn.
Yet, yet, O noble land, forbid us not
Even now to join our faint memorial chime
To the fierce chant wherewith their hearts were hot
Who took the tide in thy Imperial prime ;
Whose glory's thine till Glory sleeps forgot
With her ancestral phantoms, Pride and Time.
Henry Newbolt

Preface
THE first and one of the greatest difficulties to confront
a writer who attempts any sort of description of a
place or people is almost sure to be the answer to the
question, How much must be left out ? In the present
case the problem has reappeared in every chapter, for Devon
is ' a fair province,' as Prince says in his ' Worthies of Devon,'
and ' the happy parent of ... a noble offspring.'
My position is that of a person who has been bidden to take
from a great heap of precious stones as many as are needed to
make one chain ; for however grasping that person may be, and
however long the chain may be made, when all the stones have
been chosen, the heap will look almost as great and delightful
as before : only a few of the largest and brightest jewels will be
gone. ^ i j r.\
The fact that I have been able to take only a small handful
from the vast hoard that constitutes the history of Devon will
explain, I hope, the many omissions that must strike every reader
who has any knowledge of the county — omissions of which no
one can be more conscious than myself. A separate volume
might very well be written about the bit of country touched on
in each chapter. !£"
This book does not pretend to include every district. I have
merely passed through a great part of the county, stopping
here at an old church with interesting monuments, there at a
small town whose share in local history — in some instances, in the
country's history — is apt to be forgotten, or at a manor-house
vij

Preface
which should be remembered for its association with one of the
many ' worthies ' who, as Prince says — with the true impartiality
of a West-countryman in regard to his own county — form ' an
illustrious troop of heroes, as no other county in the kingdom, no
other kingdom (in so small a tract) in Europe, in all respects,
is able to match, much less excel.'
From the ' Tale of Two Swannes,' a view of the banks of the
River Lea, published in 1590, I have ventured to borrow the
verses that close an address ' To the Reader ' :
' To tell a Tale, and tell the Trueth withall,
To write of waters, and with them of land,
To tell of Rivers, where they rise and fall,
To tell where Cities, Townes, and Castles stand,
To tell their names, both old and newe,
With other things that be most true,
' Argues a Tale that tendeth to some good,
Argues a Tale that hath in it some reason,
Argues a Tale, if it be understood,
As looke the like, and you shall find it geason.
If, when you reade, you find it so,
Commend the worke and let it goe.'

VII]

Contents

Sonnet by Henry Newbolt

page v

Preface

vii
Chap. I. Exeter
i
II. The Exe
'3
III. The Otter and the Axe
47
IV. Dartmoor
,7l
V. The Teign
89
VI. Torbay
106
VII. The Dart
119
VIII. Kingsbridge, Salcombe, and
the
South
Hams
141
IX. The Three Towns
*5S
X. The Tamar and the Tavy
179
XI. The Taw and the Torridge
201
XII. Lundy, Lynmouth, and the
Borders
of
Exmoor
244
XIIL Castles and Country-Houses
272
List of authorities consulted
3*5
Index
3l7
IX
Illustrations

The Guildhall, Exeter

Frontispiece

Exeter from Exwick

To face page 2

Exeter Cathedral

5

The Exe : Tiverton

13

Topsham

41

Exmouth from Cockwood

45

Ottery St. Mary

47

Sidmouth

51

Branscombe

61

Beer Beach

65

Seaton Headland

67

The Windypost, or Beckamoor Cross

71

Yes Tor : Dartmoor

72

Lustleigh Cleave

75

Wistman's Wood

77

Widecombe-in-the-Moor

81

Sheepstor

83

Lydford Bridge

84

Hey Tor

89

Fingle Bridge

91

Chudleigh Glen

ICI

Teignmouth and Shaldon

103

Torquay from. the Bay

106

XJ

Berry Head

"3

Brixham Trawlers

"5

Postbridge

119

Dartmeet Bridge

121

Holne Bridge

123

Fore Street, Totnes

129

Sharpham Woods : River Dart

J33

Dartmouth Castle

x39

Salcombe

141

Bolt Head

146

Slapton Lea

I5I

The Tamar, near Saltash

!55

Drake's Island, Plymouth Sound

171

Brent Tor. From Lvdford Moors

179

Tavy Cleave

185

Brent Tor

198

Bideford

201

Appledore

211

Clovelly

2I5

Morthoe

221

Bull Point : Morthoe

223

Barnstaple Bridge

227

Torrington

230

Lantern Rock : Ilfracombe

244

Countisbury Foreland

255

Lynmouth

259

XI]

Illustrations

Malmsmead

263

Lorna's Bower

265

Waterslide : Doone Valley

267

Doone Valley

269

Powderham Castle

272

Berry Pomeroy Castle

285

Compton Castle

295

Okehampton Castle

297

Sydenham House

299

Bradfield

306

Pynes, near Exeter

308

Xll]

Devon CHAPTER I
Exeter
' Richmond ! When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And call'd it Rougemont : at which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.'
King Richard III., Act IV, Sc. ii.
THERE are not many towns which stir the imagination
as much as Exeter. To all West-Countrymen she is a
Mother City . . . and there is not one among them,
however long absent from the West, who does not feel,
when he sets foot in Exeter, that he is at home again, in touch
with people of his own blood and kindred. ... In Exeter all the
history of the West is bound up — its love of liberty, its indepen
dence, its passionate resistance to foreign conquerors, its devotion
to lost causes, its loyalty to the throne, its pride, its trade, its
maritime adventure— all these many strands are twined together
in that bond which links West-Countrymen to Exeter.' Mr.
Norway is a West-Countryman, and he sums up very justly the
sentiment, more or less consciously realized, of the people for whom
he speaks, and especially the feeling of the citizens.
Not only the Cathedral, the Castle, and Guildhall, bear legends
for those who know how to read them, but here and again through
all the streets an ancient house, a name, or a tower, will bring back
the memory of one of the stirring events that have happened. One
royal pageant after another has clattered and glittered through the
streets, and the old carved gabled houses in the side-lanes must
many a time have shaken to the heavy tramp of armed men,
gathered to defend the city or to march out against the enemy.
' Exeter/ says Professor Freeman, ' stands distinguished as
the one great English city which has, in a more marked way than
I A

Devon [ch. i
any other, kept its unbroken being and its unbroken position
throughout all ages. It is the one city in which we can feel sure
that human habitation and city life have never ceased from the
days of the early Caesars to our own. . . . The city on the Exe,
Caerwisc, or Isca Damnoniorum, has had a history which comes
nearer than that of any other city of Britain to the history of the
ancient local capitals of the kindred land of Gaul. ... To this day,
both in feeling and in truth, Exeter is something more than an
ordinary county town.'
The city is very picturesquely placed, and before ruthless. ' im
provements ' swept away the old gates and many ancient build
ings, the general effect must have been particularly delightful.
' This City is pleasantly seated upon a Hill among Hills, saving
towards the sea, where 'tis pendant in such sort as that the streets
(be they never so foul) yet with one shower of rain are again
cleansed . . .,' wrote Izacke, in his Antiquities of Exeter. ' Very
beautiful is the same in building;' and he ends with some vague
ness, ' for considerable Matters matchable to most Cities in Eng
land.' The earliest history can only be guessed at from what is
known of the history of other places, and from the inferences to be
drawn from a few scanty relics ; but there is evidence that Exeter
existed as a British settlement before the Romans found their way
so far West. It is not known when they took the city, nor when
they abandoned it, nor is there any date to mark the West Saxon
occupation. Professor Freeman, however, points out a very inter
esting characteristic proving that the conquest cannot have taken
place until after the Saxons had ceased to be heathens. ' It is the
one great city of the Roman and the Briton which did not pass
into English hands till the strife of races had ceased to be a strife
of creeds, till English conquest had come to mean simply conquest,
and no longer meant havoc and extermination. It is the one city
of the present England in which we can see within recorded times
the Briton and Englishman living side by side.' In the days of
Athelstan, ' Exeter was not purely English ; it was a city of two
nations and two tongues. . . . This shows that ... its British
inhabitants obtained very favourable terms from the conquerors,
2

EXETER FROM EXWICK

ch. i] Sxeter
and that, again, is much the same as saying that it was not taken
till after the West Saxons had become Christians.'
The earliest reliable records of the city begin about 876, when
the Danes overwhelmed the city and were put to flight by King
Alfred. A few years later they again besieged Exeter, but this time
it held out against them until the King, for the second time, came
to the rescue, and the enemy retreated. Alfred, careful of the city
and its means of defence, built a stronghold — very possibly in the
interval between these two invasions — upon the high ground that
the Briton had chosen for his fastness, and on which the Castle rose
in after-days. Rather more than a hundred years later Athelstan
strengthened the city by repairing the Roman walls. But it is with
an event of greater importance that Athelstan 's name is usually
associated, for it was he who made the city a purely English one
by driving out all the Britons into the country beyond the Tamar.
It is probable that there was already a monastery in Exeter in
the seventh century, and that it was broken up during the storms
that raged later. In any case, Athelstan founded or refounded a
monastery, and in 968 Edgar, who had married the beautiful
daughter of Ordgar, Earl of Devon, settled a colony of monks in
Exeter. About thirty years afterwards the Danes, under Pallig,
sailed up the Exe and laid siege to the town, but were repulsed
with great courage by the citizens. Beaten off the city, they fell
upon the country round, and a frightful battle was fought at
Pinhoe. A curious memorial of it survives to this day. During the
furious struggle the Saxons' ammunition began to run low, and the
priest of Pinhoe rode back to Exeter for a fresh supply of arrows.
In recognition of his service, the perpetual pension of a mark
(13s. 4d.) was granted him, and this sum the Vicar of the parish
still receives. Two years later the Danes made a successful
assault upon the city, and seized much plunder, but made no stay.
Edward the Confessor visited Exeter, and assisted at the instal
lation of Leofric as first Bishop of Exeter, when the see was
transferred from Crediton. The Queen also played a prominent
part in the ceremony, for Exeter and the royal revenues within it
made part of her ' morning gift.' Leofric instituted several re-
3 A 2

T)evon [cn- *
forms, added to the wealth of his cathedral, and left it a legacy of
lands and books. The most interesting of the manuscripts is the
celebrated Exeter Book, a large collection of Anglo-Saxon poems
on very different subjects. To give some idea of their variety, it
may be mentioned that, amongst other poems of an entirely dis
tinct character, there are religious pieces, many riddles, the legends
of two saints, the Scald's or Ancient Minstrel's tale of his travels,
and a poem on the ' Various Fortunes of Men.'
Seventeen years after King Edward's visit, William the Con
queror's messengers came before the chief men of Exeter demand
ing their submission. But the citizens sent back the lofty answer
that ' they would acknowledge William as Emperor of Britain ;
they would not receive him as their immediate King. They
would pay him the tribute which they had been used to pay to
Kings of the English, but that should be all. They would swear no
oaths to him ; they would not receive him within their walls.'
William naturally would not listen to conditions, and arrived to
direct the siege in person. For eighteen days the repeated attacks
of the Normans were sturdily resisted ; then the enemy dug a
mine, which caused the walls to crumble, and surrender was inevit
able. 'The Red Mount of Exeter had been the stronghold of
Briton, Roman, and Englishman;' under the hands of the Nor
man here rose the Castle of Rougemont, of which a tower, a
gateway, and part of the walls, stand to this day. In proportion to
the size and strength of that castle, however, the remains are
inconsiderable, but it fell into decay very long ago, and as early
as 1681 Izacke writes of ' the Fragments of the ancient Buildings
ruinated, whereon time . . . hath too much Tyrannized.'
In the year after King Stephen began to reign, Baldwin de
Redvers, Earl of Devon and keeper of the Castle, declared for the
Empress Maud, and held the Castle for three months against the
citizens, headed by two hundred knights who had been sent by the
King. At the end of this time the wells ran dry, so that the be
sieged were driven to use wine for their cookery, and even to
throw over their ' engines,' set on fire by the enemy.
Henry II granted to the citizens of Exeter the first of their many
4

EXETER CATHEDRAL

ch. i] Sxeter
charters of privileges, and in the reigns of King John and
Henry III the municipal system was very much developed, and
the city first had a Mayor. Under Edward I a beginning was
made towards the almost entire reconstruction of the Cathedral.
Bishop Warelwast, the nephew of William I, had raised the
transeptal towers — a feature that no other English cathedral
possesses — and since his time the Lady Chapel had been added, but
the design of the Cathedral as a whole was evolved by Bishop
Quivil. He planned what was practically a new church, and his
intentions were faithfully carried out. Before his day the towers
were merely ' external castles,' but Bishop Quivil broke down
their inner walls, and filled the space with lofty arches, and the
towers became transepts. Bishop Stapledon spent huge sums in
collecting materials, but before much progress with the work had
been made he was murdered by a London mob, in the troubled reign
of Edward II ; and the actual existence of much of the building
is due to Bishop Grandisson, who, sparing himself in no matter,
lavished treasure and devotion on his Cathedral. Writing to Pope
John XXII, the Bishop said ' that if the church should be worthily
completed, it would be admired for its beauty above every other of
its kind within the realms of England or France.'
One of the most beautiful features of the Cathedral is the
unbroken length of roof at the same height through nave
and choir, the effect intensified by the exquisite richness and
grace of the vaulting. And the spreading fans gain an added
grace, springing as they do from that ' distinctive group of
shafts ' which, says Canon Edmonds, ' makes the Exeter pillar
the very type of the union of beauty and strength.' In the central
bay of the nave, on the north side, is the Minstrels' Gallery, one
of the few to be found in England. It is delicately and elaborately
sculptured, and each of the twelve angels in the niches holds
a musical instrument — a flageolet, a trumpet and two wind
instruments, a tambour, a violin, an organ, a harp, bagpipes,
the cymbals, and guitars.
The choir is unusually long, and from the north and south
aisles open chapels and chantries, in some of which the carving
5

Devon [ch. i
is very rich and fine. The Bishop's throne is elaborately carved,
and more than sixty feet high, and yet there is not one nail in it.
During the Commonwealth a brick wall was built across the west
end of the choir, completely dividing the Cathedral. This was
done to satisfy the Presbyterians and Independents, each of whom
wished to hold their services here, and the two churches formed
by this division were called Peter the East and Peter the West.
The screen in the west front was added after the Cathedral was
finished ; it is covered with statues in niches, figures of ' kings,
warriors, saints, and apostles, guardians as it were of the
entrance to the sanctuary.' High above them, in the gable niche,
is the statue of St Peter, to whom the Cathedral is dedicated.
King Edward and Queen Eleanor kept Christmas at Exeter in
1285, and here the King held the Parliament which passed the
Statute of Coroners that is still law. During this visit the King
gave leave to the Bishop and Chapter to surround the close with a
wall and gates, for at this time it was used to heap rubbish
upon, and ' the rendezvous of all the bad characters of the place.'
Edward III granted his eldest son the Duchy of Cornwall — a grant
that carried with it the Castle of Exeter, and to the King's eldest
son it has always since belonged.
Henry VI in 1482 visited the city in peace and splendour.
Margaret, his Queen, came about eighteen years later, while
Warwick's plans were ripening, and the event is marked in the
Receiver's accounts by the entry : ' Two bottles of wine given to
John Fortescue, before the coming of Margaret, formerly Queen.'
Not long afterwards Warwick and the Duke of Clarence fled to
Exeter, which had to stand a siege on their behalf ; but the effort
to take the city was half-hearted, and in twelve days the attempt
was abandoned. Edward IV arrived in pursuit, but too late, for
' the byrdes were flown and gone away,' and a quaint farce was
solemnly played out. The city had just shown openly that its
real sympathies were Lancastrian, but neither King nor citizens
could afford to quarrel. ' Both sides put the best face on matters ;
the city was loyal ; the King was gracious . . . the citizens gave
him a full purse, and he gave them a sword, and all parted friends.'
6

ch. i] Sxeter
Richard Ill's visit was more eventfid. The allegiance yielded
him by the West was of the flimsiest character, and in the autumn
of 1483 a conspiracy was formed, and Henry, Earl of Richmond,
was proclaimed King in Exeter. Here Richard hastened at the
head of a strong force, to find that nearly all the leaders had fled,
and there remained only his brother-in-law, Sir John St Leger, and
Sir John's Esquire, Thomas Rame. So the King ' provided
for himself a characteristic entertainment,' and both knight and
squire were beheaded opposite the Guildhall. Before he left,
Richard went to look at the Castle, and asked its name. The
Mayor answered, ' Rougemont ' — a word misunderstood by the
King, who became ' suddenly fallen into a great dump, and as it
were a man amazed.' Shakespeare's lines give the explanation
of his discomfiture. ' It seems,' comments Fuller, ' Sathan either
spoke this oracle low or lisping.'
The next siege of Exeter was when the followers of Perkin War-
beck surged in thousands round the city. Their assault was
vigorous and determined ; they tried to undermine the walls,
burned the north gate, and, repulsed at this point, broke through
the defences at the east gate. After a sharp struggle in the streets,
the rebels were thrust back, and were forced to march northwards,
leaving Exeter triumphant. Three weeks later Henry VII entered
Exeter with Warbeck, as his prisoner. The King was very
gracious to the city that had just given such eminent proofs of
its loyalty, and bestowed on the citizens a second sword of honour
and a cap of maintenance, and ordered that a sword-bearer should
be appointed to carry the sword before the Mayor in civic pro
cession. Henry VIII gave Exeter ' the highest privilege/ says Professor
Freeman, ' that can be given to an English city or borough.' He
made it a county, ' with all the rights of a county under its own
Sheriff.' An Act of Parliament was also passed to undo the
harm done by Isabel de Fortibus, representative of the Earls of
Devon, when she made a weir about the year 1280 — still called
Countess Weir — that blocked the free waterway to the sea. As the
tide naturally comes up the river a little way beyond Exeter, before
7

T)evon [ch. i
the weir was made ships had been able to sail up to the Watergate
of the city. The first attempts to improve matters after this Act
was passed failed, but a canal was constructed with tolerable
success in the reign of Elizabeth.
In 1549 came the siege of Exeter that followed the burning of
Crediton barns. The Devonshire rebels had been reinforced by a
large number of Cornishmen, who resented the new Prayer-Book,
and the law obliging them to hear the services in English instead
of Latin, more bitterly and with greater reason than the people of
Sampford Courtenay. For to them it was more than unwelcome
change in the Liturgy ; it meant also that their services were read
in an alien tongue. ' We,' the Cornish, " whereof certain of
us understand no English, utterly refuse the new English,' was
their protest. It is curious to think that more than half a century
later English was a foreign language in Cornwall. In James I's
reign, ' John Norden . . . constructing his Speculum, his topo
graphical description of this kingdom,' writes : ' Of late the
Cornishmen have muche conformed themselves to the use of the
English tongue / and adds that all but ' some obscure people '
are able to 'convers with a straunger' in English. The bitterness
aroused by the religious question was intensified by a report which
was ' blazed abroad/ as Hooker says, ' a Gnat making an
Elephant, that the gentlemen were altogether bent to over-run,
spoil, or destroy the people.' No one could have acted with
greater loyalty and courage than the Mayor, John Blackaller, and
his powers were put to a hard trial before the end of the siege.
Not only was there an active and vigorous enemy without, but
within the walls the majority secretly, and some persons openly,
sided with the enemy. The most unceasing vigilance and un
faltering resolution were needed to frustrate all plots and plans.
One great danger was averted by a certain John Newcomb, an ex-
miner, who, suspicious of a possible peril, watched diligently for
its slightest sign. One day an anxious crowd looked at him
' crawling about on the ground with a pan of water in his hand.
Every now and again he would listen attentively, with his ear
in the dust, and, rising, place the pan on the spot. At last he has
8

ch. i] Sxeter
it. Like the beating of a pulse, the still water in the pan vibrates
in harmony with the stroke of the pickaxe far underneath, and the
old miner rises exultant.' A counter-mine was hurriedly made,
and through a tiny opening it was seen that barrels of gunpowder
and pitch and piles of faggots were heaped beneath the west gate.
Fortunately, this gate stood below the steep slope on which the
city lies, and on discovering the enemy's alarming preparations,
every householder was ordered, at a given signal, to empty a great
tub of water into the kennel, and every tap in the city was turned
on. ' At which time also, by the Goodness of God, there fell a
great Shower, as the like, for the Time, had not been seen many
years before.' A tremendous torrent rushed down the streets, and,
being concentrated upon the mine, completely flooded it.
There is no place here to speak of the straits to which the
citizens were put before a sufficient number of troops reached Lord
Russell to enable him to march to the relief of the besieged. Nor
is there room for an account of the splendid resistance made by
the rebels to the great force pitted against them, which included
a regiment of seasoned German Lanzknechts and three hundred
Italian musketeers, besides English cavalry. ' Valiantly and
stoutly they stood to their Tackle, and would not give over as
long as Life and Limb lasted . . . and few or none were left alive. . . .
Such was the Valour and stoutness of these men that the Lord
Greie reported himself, that he never, in all the Wars that he had
been in, did know the like.'
In recognition of the loyalty shown by the citizens under this
great trial, Queen Elizabeth ' complimented the city with an
augmentation of arms,' and ' of her own free will added the well-
known motto, Semper Fidelis.' Encouraged by the Queen's pro
tection, commerce increased and prospered. Guilds had long
flourished in Exeter, and it is recorded that as early as 1477 there
was a quarrel between the Mayor and citizens and the Company
of Taylors. A Guildhall existed even before there was a Mayor
of Exeter, but the present building dates from 1464. It has a fine
common hall, with a lofty, vaulted roof and much panelling, and
the panels are set with little shields, the arms of the Mayors, of
9

Devon [ch. i
various companies, and certain benefactors to the city. Later was
added the cinque-cento front that projects over the footway, and
has become so essential a characteristic in the eyes of those who
care for Exeter. This front was built in 1593, and ' in its confusion
of styles — English windows between Italian columns — it has all
the impress of that transitional age.'
Many of the trades that throve in Exeter formed guilds, and in
looking casually at the names of a few of them, one finds that the
bakers had already a Master and Company in 1428-29, and
that some years later the charter of the Glovers and Skinners was
renewed. In 1452 there was a dispute as to whether the Cord-
wainers or Tuckers should take precedence in the Mayor's pro
cession, and later again the Guild of Weavers, Sheremen, and
Tuckers came still more prominently before the public.
' Trafiquing ' in wool and woollen goods was the most im
portant trade, and though its zenith was passed in the seventeenth
century, it continued to do well till the later half of the eighteenth.
Defoe speaks of the ' serge manufacture of Devonshire ' as 'a trade
too great to be described in miniature,' and says he is told that
at the weekly market 'sixty to seventy to eighty, and sometimes a
hundred, thousand pounds' value in serges is sometimes sold."
Probably the account given him was a little exaggerated, but
Lysons quotes the statement that in the most prosperous days
£50,000 or £60,000 worth of woollen goods had been sold in a
week. Many were the petitions sent up to Parliament in the reign
of William and Mary, begging protection for the local wool-trade,
and that competition from unhappy Ireland might be dis
couraged. The great hall of the New Inn was used as an exchange,
and here were held yearly three great cloth-fairs, where merchants
from London and from all parts gathered, and stalls and shops in
the inn were let to ' foreigners.' The Tuckers' Hall, built of
ruddy stone, still stands in Fore Street, and the hall has a fine
cradle roof with plaster panels.
The most powerful of all the companies was incorporated later
than many of the guilds, for the Merchant Adventurers received
their charter from Queen Elizabeth. Their power and wealth was
10

ch. i] Sxeter
very considerable ; they cast their lines in all directions, and they
secured a monopoly of trading with France. This company sup
plied with money, and had a stake in, some of Sir Humphrey
Gilbert's and Captain Davis's enterprises, and Sir Francis Drake
himself invited the 'gentilmen merchauntes' and others of the city
to ' adventure with him in a voiage supportinge some speciall
service ... for the defence of ' religion, Quene and countrye.'
About Charles I's reign the importance of the company gradually
declined, and the society was eventually dissolved.
During the Civil War, Exeter was twice besieged, but on neither
occasion so rigorously as in 1549. When the war broke out, the
Earl of Bedford appointed the Mayor, the Sheriff, and five Alder
men, Commissioners for the Parliament. The defences were put in
order and arms collected, and amongst other expenses is recorded
' £300 for 17 packs of wool taken from Mr Robin's Cellars for the
Barricadoes.' Nevertheless, zeal for the Parliament must have
been but lukewarm, for when Prince Maurice's troops surrounded
the city, it was surrendered at the end of fourteen days, and after
the besieged had suffered no further inconvenience than ' the
being kept from taking the air without their own walls.' The next
year Queen Henrietta Maria came to a city which was considered
a safer refuge than Oxford, and here Princess Henrietta was
born, and was baptized in the Cathedral with great pomp, ' a
new font having been erected for the purpose, surmounted by a
rich canopy of state.' Charles II always showed the warmest
affection for his sister, famed, as Duchess of Orleans, for her
beauty and charm, and a portrait of the Princess given by the
King to the city hangs in the Guildhall. It is a full-length portrait,
and she is represented standing, one hand lightly gathering to
gether the folds of her white satin dress.
During the autumn and winter of 1645-46 Exeter was grad
ually hemmed in by bodies of Parliamentary troops stationed
at posts in the neighbourhood, and with the new year the siege
became a closer one. It would seem, however, that there was
no very acute distress from lack of food ; but Fuller, who was
in the city at the time, mentions with satisfaction the appearance
11

Devon [ch. i
of ' an incredible number of Larks ... for multitude like Quails
in the Wildemesse, and as fat as plentifull . . . which provided a
feast for many poor people, who otherwise had been pinched for
provision.' As the spring advanced, the King's cause lapsed into
a condition too hopeless to be bettered by further resistance, and
on April 9 Sir John Berkeley, for over two years the faithful
guardian of the city, signed the articles of its surrender, on
honourable terms, to Sir Thomas Fairfax.
There is no space to speak of later dramatic incidents in
Exeter — the trial and execution of Mr Penruddocke and Mr Grove,
leaders of a Royalist rising of Wiltshire gentlemen, whose speeches
on the scaffold are given at length by Izacke ; nor of the joy that
greeted the Restoration, when ' Tar-barrels and Bonefires capered
aloft '; nor of Charles II's visit, nor the entrance of the Duke of
Monmouth in 1680 with five thousand horsemen, and nine hundred
young men in white uniforms marching before him. One may not
even pause before the gorgeous spectacle of William Ill's arrival,
heralded by a procession in which appeared two hundred negroes
in white-plumed, embroidered turbans, and a squadron of Swedish
horsemen ' in bearskins taken from the beasts they had slain,
with black armour and broad flaming swords.'
It has been only possible to name the most outstanding points in
the history of a city — once more to quote Professor Freeman — ' by
the side of which most of the capitals of Europe are things of
yesterday. . . . The city alike of Briton, Roman, and Englishman,
the one great prize of the Christian Saxon, the city where Jupiter
gave way to Christ, but where Christ never gave way to Woden-
British Caerwisc, Roman Isca, West Saxon Exeter, may well
stand first on our roll-call of English cities. Others can boast of a
fuller share of modern greatness ; none other can trace up a life so
unbroken to so remote a past.'

12

CHAPTER II
The Exe
' Goodly Ex, who from her full-fed spring
Her little Barlee hath, and Dunsbrook her to bring
From Exmore ; when she hath scarcely found her course.
Then Creddy cometh in 
 her sovereign to assist ;
As Columb wins for Ex clear Wever and the Clist,
Contributing their streams their mistress' fame to raise.
As all assist the Ex, so Ex consumeth these ;
Like some unthrifty youth, depending on the court.
To win an idle name, that keeps a needless port ;
And raising his old rent, exacts his farmers' store
The landlord to enrich, the tenants wondrous poor :
Who having lent him theirs, he then consumes his own,
That with most vain expense upon the Prince is thrown ;
So these, the lesser brooks unto the greater pay ;
The greater, they again spend all upon the sea.'
Drayton : Poly-olbion.
THE River Exe rises in a bog on Exmoor, beyond the
borders of Somersetshire. ' Be now therefore pleased
as you stand upon Great Vinnicombe top ... to cast
your eye westward, and you may see the first spring of
the river Exe, which welleth forth in a valley between Pinckerry
and Woodborough/ says Westcote.
But our author has no feeling for the rolling hills, and noble lines,
and hazy blue distances of Exmoor, and without one word of
praise continues : ' Let us for your more ease, and the sooner to be
quit of this barren soil, cold air, uneven ways, and untrodden
paths, swim with the stream the better to hasten our speed.'
The first little town that the Exe comes to in Devonshire is
Bampton, nowadays best known, perhaps, for its pony-fairs, when
(so runs one account) ' Exmoor ponies throng the streets, flood the
pavements, overflow the houses, pervade the place. Wild as
hawks, active and lissom as goats, cajoled from the moors, and
13

Devon [ch. \x
tactfully manoeuvred when penned, these indigenous quadrupeds
will leap or escalade lofty barriers in a standing jump or a cat-like
scramble.' Cattle and sheep are less conspicuously for sale at this
popular and crowded fair, held on the last Thursday in October.
The first fact recorded of Bampton's history is of such ancient
date that it may be hoped the vastness of the achievement has
been rounded and filled out during the flight of time ; for the his
torian, with unconscious irony, blandly remarks that here ' Cyne-
gils, first Christian King of the West Saxons,' put twenty thousand
(or maybe more) Britons to the sword. He does not mention how
Cynegils continued his propagation of the Gospel.
The nave of the church at Bampton is built in the manner most
common to this country — that is, early Perpendicular, but the
chancel is Decorated. In many of the churches there is some portion
of Decorated work. The screen and roof of the church are worth
seeing, and in the churchyard are several unusually large and fine
old yew-trees, one or two girdled by stone benches. Leaving Bamp
ton, onepasses alongagreen and fertile valley, the fields interrupted
at intervals by copses, where thickets of undergrowth and multi
tudes of young saplings are struggling for the mastery — a picture
of prodigal wealth in plants, bushes, and trees.
Seven miles to the south is Tiverton. Tiverton is a small town,
but its story is interesting, and incidents cluster round the castle,
church, the well-known school, and the former kersies and wool-
market, and, besides, it is filled with memories of the melancholy
experiences it has passed through — fires, floods, the plague, and at
least one siege.
The borough was originally granted by Henry I to his cousin,
Richard de Riparis (or de Red vers or Rivers), Earl of Devon,.
whose descendants possessed it for nearly two centuries, when,
the direct line failing, the borough and title passed to a cousin, a
Courtenay, in whose family the title still remains.
Richard de Redvers, ' the faithful and beloved counsellor ' of
Henry I, is supposed to have begun the Castle of Tiverton, and he
attached to it ' two parks for pleasure and large and rich demesne
for hospitality.' His grandson, William Rivers, was one of the
14

ch. ii] The Exe
four Earls who carried the silken canopy at the second coronation
of King Richard I, after his return from Palestine. William's
daughter, Mary, married Robert Courtenay, Baron of Okehamp
ton ; and so it was that, when the House of Rivers became extinct
in the male line, their possessions passed to the Courtenays, and
Mary's great-grandson became first Earl of Devon of the line of the
Courtenays. It is not thought probable that the Castle as it stands contains
work older than the fourteenth century. Part of the building of
that date remains unaltered, and part has been transformed into a
modern house. The old walls are in places covered with ivy, and on
the southern side are pierced by one or two pointed windows whose
stonework is more or less broken. A round tower at the south
eastern angle still looks very solid and undisturbed. At a few yards'
distance, on the south of the Castle, stand the ruins of the chapel ;
the walls of three sides are still standing, although imperfect and
partly fallen down, and almost smothered in ivy. Originally this
square tower at the south-west angle was joined to the Castle, and
two more round towers stood at the northern angles. Near the
chapel is a low wall, and looking over it one sees a very steep slope
to the river, sixty feet beneath. A wide and deep moat surrounded
the Castle on the other sides.
It is said that Tiverton suffered both in the Civil War of 1150
and also in the Wars of the Roses, and though there is little evi
dence to support this assertion, there can be no doubt that in
directly the town must have been disagreeably affected. For Bald
win de Redvers fortified his castle at Exeter, and it is very likely
that retainers from Tiverton were sent to strengthen the garrison ;
and when the Earl was driven from the country by King Stephen,
his servants and their families were probably distressed by want,
if not by the sword.
During the Wars of the Roses, three successive Earls of Devon
lost their lives, and many of their followers must have fallen too,
leaving defenceless widows and children.
The Earls of Devon had many manors, but lived much in their
Castle at Tiverton, and some were buried in the adjoining church
15

Devon [ch. ii
of St Peter. To the third Earl, known as ' the Good ' or ' the
Blind ' Earl, and his wife a tomb was erected, ' having their effi
gies of alabaster, sometimes sumptuously gilded.' So writes Ris-
don, about the year 1630, and adds regretfully, ' Time hath not so
much defaced, as men have mangled that magnificent monument.'
It has now entirely disappeared. The epitaph it bore was this :
' Hoe ! Hoe ! who lyes here ?
'Tis I, the goode erle of Devonshire,
With Mabill, my wyfe, to mee full dere.
Wee lyved togeather fyfty fyve yere.
That wee spent wee had ;
That wee lefte wee loste ;
That wee gave, wee have.'
The church is a fine Perpendicular building, and has a high em
battled tower, with slender crocketedpinnacles springing sixteen feet
above the summit. The roof is battlemented, and the tracery in
the windows is graceful. On either side of the chancel stands an
altar-tomb — that on the north side being in memory of John Wal-
dron, on the south of George Slee, both benefactors to the town in
having founded almshouses. The sides of the tombs are boldly and
curiously sculptured, being covered with raised devices, and a
deeply lettered inscription is engraved in the top of each. A pic
ture of St Peter being delivered by the angel from prison, painted
by Richard Cosway, hangs over a north doorway. Cosway
was born in Tiverton, and the letter that accompanied his gift
expressed good feeling and his warm affection for his native
town. The most distinctive feature of the church is the very decorative
' Greenway ' chapel. John Greenway was a rich wool-merchant
of Tiverton, and on the walls of the chapel was inscribed this
couplet :
' To the honour of St. Christopher, St. Blaze, and St. Anne,
This chapel of John Greenwaye was began.'
It is interesting to note, of the three saints to whom the chapel
was dedicated, that St Christopher was the patron of mariners and
one of the ' sea-saints,' St Blaze the special patron of wool-
16

ch. ii] The Sxe
combers ; while St Anne particularly presides over riches. An
old distich runs :
' Saint Anne gives wealth and living great to such as love her most,
And is a perfite finder-out of things that have beene lost.'
So that the help of all three was peculiarly necessary to make John
Greenway a prosperous man !
The chapel is late Perpendicular, and it is most elaborately
carved and decorated. The roof is covered with different kinds of
ornamentation, and the cornice bears the arms of Greenway, of the
Drapers' Company, and other devices. Along the corbel line are
carved scenes from the Bible, beneath is a sea of gentle ripples,
with several large ships in full sail upon it, and above and beside
the windows is a multitude of different designs — merchants' marks,
animals, roses, anchors, horses and men ; and a very delightful ape
sits on a projecting pedestal, close to the porch. The porch is ex
tremely elaborate, both within and without. On the frieze are six
panels, each carved with a different Scriptural subject, separated
from one another by single figures. Over the porch are the arms of
the Courtenays, and above them an emblem and more carving, be
sides two large niches, now empty, at each side of the door. Inside
the porch, over the door leading into the church, is a carving of the
Assumption, and the roof is richly carved with merchants' marks
and other ciphers and designs on little shields. The roof inside the
chapel is also carved ; and in the floor is a brass engraved with the
figures of the merchant and his wife — he in a long fur-edged robe,
and she wearing embroidered draperies and jewels, and a poman
der ball hanging on one of the long ends of her girdle.
It is interesting to hear that in this church Mendelssohn's
Wedding March was first played at a wedding. The ' Midsummer
Night's Dream ' music had just been published as a pianoforte
duet, when Mr Samuel Reay, of Tiverton, made an arrangement
of it for the organ, and the first marriage at which the march
was played was that of Mr Tom Daniel and Miss Dorothea-
Carew, in June, 1847.
Tiverton was famed in early days for its trade in wool. It is
17 B

Devon [ch. ii
supposed that woollen goods were first manufactured here towards
the end of the fourteenth century, and at the beginning of the
sixteenth several merchants of the town were making ventures far
and wide. Baizes, plain cloths, and kerseys were the most
important of the manufactures, and there was some commerce in
these with Spain. Traffic in woollen goods was now very brisk in
different parts of the country, and during the reign of Henry VIII
special statutes were enacted ' affecting cloths called white straits
of Devon, and Devonshire kerseys called dozens.' In Elizabeth's
reign trade prospered here as elsewhere ; but later friction arose on
the question of imports. The manufacturers on more than one
occasion tried to introduce Irish worsted to weave into cloth, and
this was met by the most violent opposition from the wool-combers,
who believed that it would take away their work, although it was
explained that their work depended on making serge for Dutch
markets, for which the Irish worsted could not be used. The wool-
combers had at different times various causes for complaint, and
these they vented in riots so serious that (about 1749) the authori
ties asked for the protection of some troops, who were accordingly
sent to Tiverton, and, on a fresh uproar not long after their
arrival, were called out to quell the mob. Towards the latter half
of the eighteenth century the woollen trade languished ; but in the
first quarter of the nineteenth century a new business sprang up —
that of producing machine-made lace and tulle.
Tiverton's merchants marked their prosperity in an admirable
manner, for over ninety gifts in land, money, and alms
houses have been made. The gifts and bequests were usually
intended to benefit the poor, but in a few cases they were for
the general good. In addition there remains the memory of
about twenty ' benefactions,' many of which were ' absorbed in the
tumult of the Civil War or generally dissipated by neglect or mis
management.' Greenway founded almshouses, as well as the aisle
in the church, and although these dwellings have been altered
to some extent, the tiny chapel still attached to them is very
picturesque. A cornice contains twelve circles, within each a
pierced quatrefoil, and in the centre of every quatrefoil a shield,
18

ch. ii] The 6xe
bearing a coat of arms, a merchant's mark, or other design. The
cornice is supported by several rather grotesque animals, and
below, in stone letters, this legend :
' Have Grace, ye men, and ever pray
For the Sowl of John and Jone Greenway.'
A wide moulded arch forms the doorway, and above are coats
of arms and an eagle rising from a bundle of sticks, an emblem
attached to the Courtenay arms that appears in several parts of
St Peter's Church.
On Waldron's almshouses is this curious inscription :
' John Waldron, merchant, and Richord his wife,
Builded this house in tyme of their life ;
At such tyme as the walls wer fourtyne foote hye,
He departed this world even the eyghtynth of July (1579).
' Since youth and life doth pass awaye.
And deathe at hand to end our dayes,
Let us do so, that men may saye,
We spent our goods God for to prays.'
On one wall is a pack of wool bearing Waldron's staplemark and
a ship, and below them the words, ' Remember the poor.'
The greatest gift by far was that of Peter Blundell, who built
and endowed the well-known school that is called after him, and
founded six scholarships at Oxford and Cambridge as a further
benefit to the scholars of Blundell's. His will dictates most par
ticular instructions regarding the salaries of the master and usher,
and as to the actual building, even directing that there should be
' in the kitchen one fair great chimney with an oven.'
In 1882 the school was transferred to Howden, but the building
' that Peter Blundell planned, beneath the steep hill close to the
Lowman, is long and rather low, the colour a warm, soft yellow,
still more softened by stray indefinite tints of cream and buff. The
slate roof is high-pitched, the windows are square and mullioned,
and there are two porches, each with a window directly above
the hooded doorway, and crowned by a gable. The school-house
stands back in a yard of plots of grass and pebbled paths, and
shaded by great old lime-trees surrounded by a high wall.
1.9 b 2

Devon [ch. ii
Samuel Wesley was at one time head-master here, and was not
universally popular, for his scathing wit blighted the esteem earned
by his high gifts and principles.
Many of Blundell' s scholars have done good work in the world,
but perhaps the most famous of them are the late Archbishop of
Canterbury (Dr. Temple) and R. D. Blackmore, the novelist, who
were here in the 'thirties, contemporaries and friends, both ' day
boys ' and lodging in the same house in Cop's Court. Twenty years
before the Archbishop came to Blun dell's, that celebrated sports
man ' Jack ' Russell was here, embarked on a stormy career,
perpetually in scrapes due to his passion for sport, which even
led him to the point of trying to keep hounds while he was
actually at school. Contemporaries of Blackmore's were two
distinguished soldiers and writers on military subjects, Sir Charles
Chesney and his brother Sir George, the author of that account
of an imaginary German invasion which created so much excite
ment when, under the name of ' The Battle of Dorking,' it
appeared in 1871 in Blackwood's Magazine.
Fire has caused terrible loss and disaster here, for as many as
seven big conflagrations have taken place in Tiverton, and in one
alone six hundred houses were destroyed, besides £200,000 worth
of goods and merchandise. In addition, at least eight smaller, but
still considerable, fires took place at comparatively short inter
vals, so that between the years 1598 and 1788 the townsfolk
suffered from this cause no fewer than fifteen times.
A curious account exists of the fire in 1598 — ' when,' says the
chronicler, ' he which at one a clocke was worth Five Thousand
Pound, and as the Prophet saith [a footnote suggests the prophet
Amos, vi. 5, 6] dranke his Wine in bowles of fine silver plate,
had not by two a Clocke so much as a wooden dish left to eate his
Meate in, nor a house to couer his sorrowful! head, neyther did
thys happen to one man alone, but to many. ... In a twinkling
of an eye came that great griefe uppon them, which turn'd their
wealth to miserable want, and their riches to unlooktfor pouer-
tie : and how was that ? Mary, Sir, by Fyer.
' But no fier from heaven, no unquenchable fier such as worthily
20

ch. ii] The Sxe
fell on the sinfull Citie of Sodom and Gomorra ; but a sillie flash
of fier, blazing forth of a frying pan . . . and here was dwelling in a
little lowe thatcht house, a poore beggarly woman : who, with a
companion, began to bake pancakes with strawe ' — here he be
comes sarcastic — ' for their abilitie and prouission was so good that
there was no wood in the house to doe it. . . . Sodenly, the fier
got into the Pan.' Straw lying close by was ablaze in a moment,
then the roof, then, alas ! by means of an ' extreame high wind,'
a hay-house standing near, and ' in less than halfe an hower the
whole Toune was set on fier.'
A terrible picture is drawn of the rapidity and voracity of the
flames — people crying for help in every direction, ' insomuch that
the people were so amazed that they knew not which way to turne,
nor where the most neede was' — and of the number of people who
were burned and the desolation of the town.
As to those saved, ' the residue of the woefull people remaining
yet aliue, being overburdened with extream sorrow, runs up and
down the fieldes like distraught or franticke men. . . . Moreouer,
they are so greatly distrest for lacke of food, that they seeme to each
mannes sighte more liker spirits and Ghostes, than living creatures.'
The account concludes with a moral pointed in many figures of
speech, to the effect that this great trouble was a judgment on the
rich, who did not sufficiently consider their poor neighbours, and
various cities are exhorted to take warning thereby. ' O famous
London . . . Thou which art the chief Lady Cittie of this Land,
whose fame soundeth through al Christian Kingdoms, cast thy
deere eyes on this ruinous Towne. . . . Consider this thou faire
citie of Exeter, thou which art next neighbour to this distressed
Town . . . pitie her heauie happe, that knowes not what miserie
hanges ouer thy owne head.'
An appeal to the public was made on behalf of these sufferers,
and Queen Elizabeth responded with a grant of £5,000.
In the fire of 1612 the destruction was eve greater. ' No noyse
thundered about the streets, but fire, fire, in every place were
heard the voyces of fire. ... All the night long the towne seemed
like unto a burning mountaine, shooting forth fiery comets, with
21

Devon [ch. ii
streaming blazes, or like unto the Canopie of the World, beset
with thousands of night candles or bright burning Torches.'
When the Civil War broke out, Tiverton, though not unani
mous, mainly sided with the Parliament. After the Battle of
Stratton, however, the triumphant Royalists suddenly descended
on the town, turned out Colonel Weare, who was in command
of the Parliamentary forces, and took possession. Many skir
mishes must have taken place either in or about the town, for
large bodies of the troops belonging to King or Parliament moved
backwards and forwards in the immediate neighbourhood during
the course of the war.
Culpeper, the herbalist, to illustrate the powers of the plant
moonwort, tells of a wonderful incident that occurred to Lord
Essex's horse, presumably when his army was here in 1644.
Moonwort has (or perhaps had) a miraculous effect on iron, with
power to open locks or unshoe horses. ' Country people that I
know, call it Unshoe the Horse. Besides I have heard commanders
say, that in White Down in Devonshire, near Tiverton, there were
found thirty horse-shoes, pulled off from the feet of the Earl of
Essex's horses, being there drawn up in a body, many of them
being but newly shod, and no reason known, which caused much
admiration, and the herb described usually grows upon heaths.'
Probably almost all the neighbourhood thought witchcraft a
better explanation .
It is very difficult entirely to disentangle accounts that seem to
contradict each other, but apparently Essex moved away from
Tiverton after a short stay, and certainly the King sent his army
to Tiverton the same autumn to halt there for a while on its way
from Plymouth to Chard. And as this army was returning, reduced
and exhausted, from fighting and long, hard marches in Cornwall,
it could not have been sent to a town in possession of the enemy.
The next year Fairfax sent General Massie to take Tiverton. The
Governor, Sir Gilbert Talbot, was in a far from happy position,
for afterwards he wrote : ' My horse were mutinous, and I had
but two hundred foot in garrison, and some of my chief officers
unfaithful.' In spite of his disadvantages, he was able to repulse
22

ch. ii] The Sxe
the enemy in their first attack on church and castle, though unable
to prevent their gaining possession of the town. Two days later
Fairfax himself arrived, and batteries, furnished with ' several
great Peeces,' were erected against the church and castle. The
actual fighting lasted only a short time, for a shot broke the
chain of the drawbridge, and it fell ; the Parliamentary soldiers
rushed across it without even waiting for the command, and the
Royalists lost their heads and their courage and fled.
A copy of a letter that General Massie wrote from Tiverton to a
Cheshire gentleman still exists, and in it he refers to a pamphlet,
sent with the letter, even the title-page of which throws light on
Puritan methods of influencing popular opinion against the
Cavaliers. This startling page runs as follows :
A True and Strange
RELATION of a
BOY,
Who was entertained by the Devill to be servant to him
with the consent of his Father, about Crediton in the West,
and how the Devill carried him up in the aire, and shewed him
the torments of Hell, and some of the Cavaliers there, and
what preparation there was made for Goring and Greenvile
against they came.
Also how the Cavaliers went to rob a Carrier, and how the
Carrier and his Horses turned themselves into
FLAMES OF FIRE.
Leaving Tiverton and following the Exe downstream, the way
farer may ponder two proverbs referring to Tiverton, neither of
them especially flattering. It used to be, and no doubt is still, con
sidered lucky to start off running directly the cuckoo is heard for
the first time in the year, and thirty or forty years ago, if a girl
obeyed this tradition, anyone near her would laugh and say :
' Run, run ! and don't let no Tiverton man catch you !' The
other saying is cryptic : ' He must go to Tiverton and ask
Mr Able.' An interpretation suggested is that this was originally
said to a questioner who asked for unattainable information, and
that ' Mr Able ' meant anyone able to furnish it. It is not
23

Devon [ch. ii
exactly a satisfactory solution, and as to the reference to Tiverton,
though it may be complimentary, one doubts whether it does not
carry more than a suspicion of sarcasm.
Four miles to the south of Tiverton is a pleasant well-wooded
valley, in which stands Bickleigh. This village was the birthplace
of a rascal, who was such a brilliant and talented rascal that his
adventures are very interesting. Witty, courageous, and full of
resource, he had, besides, two strong points in his favour. In
spite of a very rough and wandering life, his warm affection for
his wife never failed, and — all dogs adored him ! Bampfylde Moore
Carew belonged to a very old family in the West, and his father
was rector of Bickleigh. A happy-go-lucky career was fore
shadowed at the very outset, for his two * illustrious godfathers,'
Mr Hugh Bampfylde and Major Moore, disputed as to whose name
should stand first, and, as they could not agree, the matter was
decided by spinning a coin. A few of the most interesting events
in his career may be quoted from a little biography first published
anonymously in 1745, thirteen years before his death. Carew was
sent to BlundeU's, where for a while he did well, although his tastes
led him to be out with ' a cry ' of hounds that the scholars of
Blundell's kept among them, whenever it was possible. On one
occasion some farmers complained to the head-master of the
damage that had been done in hunting a deer over standing corn,
and the boy, to escape punishment, ran away from school and
joined some gipsies. Carew took very kindly to the life, but
repeated accounts of his parents' unhappiness brought him
home after a year and a half's wanderings. Though overwhelmed
with ' marks of festive joy,' the call ' of the wind on the heath,'
was too strong to be resisted, and in a short time he slipped
away again and went back to his chosen people. He must have
been a very finished actor, with a genius for ' make-up,' to have
imposed on half the people that he befooled. Amongst his first
roles were those of a shipwrecked mariner ; a poor Mad Tom,
trying to eat live coals ; and a Kentish farmer, whose drowned
• farm in the Isle of Sheppey could no longer support his wife and
' seven helpless infants.' Carew's restless disposition took him to
24

ch. ii] The Sxe
Newfoundland, and on his return he successfully played the parts
of a nonjuring clergyman, dispossessed of his living for conscience'
sake ; a Quaker — here is a good example of his wonderful gift
— in an assembly of Quakers ; a ruined miller ; a rat-catcher ;
and, having borrowed three children from a tinker, a grandmother.
Carew once wheedled a gentleman, who boasted that he could not
be taken in by beggars, into giving him liberal alms twice in one
day — in the morning as an unfortunate blacksmith, whose all had
been destroyed by fire ; whilst in the afternoon, on crutches, his face
' pale and sickly, his gestures very expressive of pain,' he pleaded
as a disabled tinner, who, from ' the damps and hardships he
had suffered in the mines,' could not work to keep his family.
At the death of Clause Patch, the King of the Gipsies, Carewwas
elected King in his stead. Before he died, the aged King, feeling
his end approaching, bestowed a few last words of advice on
his followers, well worth quoting.
Of begging in the street and interrupting people who are talking,
he said : ' If they are tradesmen, their conversation will soon end,
and may be well paid for by a halfpenny ; if an inferior clings to
the skirt of a superior, he will give twopence rather than be pulled
off ; and when you are happy enough to meet a lover and his
mistress, never part with them under sixpence, for you may be
sure they will never part from one another.'
This is followed by shrewd advice as to the choice of an appeal :
' Whatever people seem to want, give it them largely in your
address to them. Call the beau sweet Gentleman ; bless even his
coat or periwig ; and tell him they are happy ladies where he's
going. If you meet with a schoolboy captain, such as our streets
are full of, call him noble general ; and if the miser can be in any
way got to strip himself of a farthing, it will be by the name of
charitable Sir. ... If you meet a sorrowful countenance with a
red coat, be sure the wearer is a disbanded officer. Let a female
always attack him, and tell him she is the widow of a poor marine,
who had served twelve years, and then broke his heart because
he was turned out without a penny. If you meet a homely
but dressed-up lady, pray for her lovely face, and beg a penny.'
25

Devon [ch. ii
After his election as King of the Gipsies, or King of the Beggars,
as he is more often called, Carew was soon involved in fresh ad
ventures. But one day grey ill-luck looked his way; he was
arrested and sent for trial to Exeter. Courage and audacity never
failed him, for when the Chairman of Quarter Sessions announced
that the prisoner was to be transported to a country which he pro
nounced Maryland, Carew calmly criticised his pronunciation,
and said he thought that Maryland would be more correct. To
Maryland he was sent in charge of a brutal sea-captain, and on his
arrival, burdened with a heavy iron collar riveted round his neck,
was set to all sorts of drudgery. Before very long he contrived to
escape into the forests, and after some danger from wild beasts he
reached a tribe of friendly Indians, who received him with great
kindness. Later he stole a canoe, and, returning to civilized
regions, posed as a kidnapped Quaker, in which character he
succeeded in gaining the compassion of Whitefield, the great
preacher, who gave him ' three or four pounds of that county paper
money.' By the help of several ingenious ruses he was able to get
home again, and soon afterwards, aided by a turban, a long, loose
robe, and flowing beard, appeared as a destitute Greek, whose
' mute silence, his dejected countenance, a sudden tear that now
and then flowed down his cheek,' touched the hearts of the be
nevolent. In an unlucky moment he was impressed for the navy ;
next travelled in Russia, Poland, Sweden, and other countries,
but, returning to England, was again seized, put in irons, and
transported. With his usual indomitable spirit and resource, he
escaped once more into the forests, and after dangers and hard
ships reached England. Finally, he ended his days in peace where
he began them, and was buried at Bickleigh in 1758.
Five miles east of Tiverton is a village called Sampford Peverell,
which in the early part of the nineteenth century suddenly sprang
into notice through the strange proceedings of a mysterious spirit,
known as the Sampford Ghost. This ' goblin sprite/ as one ac
count calls it, declared itself in a manner well known to psychical
researchers, by violent knockings, and by causing a sword, a heavy
book, and an iron candlestick to fly about the room. Two maid-
26

ch. ii] The Sxe
servants received heavy blows while they were in bed, and there
were other strange and distressing phenomena. These manifesta
tions were continued for more than three years. Numberless
visitors, drawn by curiosity from all parts of the country, came to
investigate the matter, but no explanation could be found, and
though there were suspicions that the whole affair was a very
elaborate hoax, and a reward of £250 was offered for information
that might throw light upon it, no single attempt was made to
claim the money.
Sampford Peverell is a small place, and rather out of the way,
but so long ago as in the reign of Edward I it is recorded that
John de Hillersdon held the manor on a tenure that reflects the
unquiet state of the country. He held it ' in fee, in serjeanty, by
finding for our lord the King, in his army in Wales, and elsewhere
in England, whensoever war should happen, one man with a horse
caparisoned or armed for war at his proper costs for forty days to
abide in the war aforesaid.' Hugh Peverell held the Manor of
Sandford, near Crediton, on much the same terms, but had to
provide ' one armed horseman and two footmen.'
Following down Sampford stream for about three miles, one
arrives at the point where the stream reaches an opening into the
Culm Valley, and empties itself in the Culm. A very short dis
tance beyond is the little town of Cullompton, of which the most
interesting feature is a fine Perpendicular church. An old writer
insists that here was formerly ' the figure of Columbus, to which
many pilgrims resorted, and which brought considerable sums to
the priests '; but of this statement I can find neither confirmation
nor denial. The tower of the church is high and decorated.
Within, the roof, richly carved and gilded, rests on a carved wall-
plate, supported by angel corbels, and most exquisite is the
carving of the rood-screen, which has also been gilded and
coloured. A very rare possession of this church is ' a portion of
a Calvary, and above is an ornamental rood-beam, supported by
angels ; the Golgotha, carved out of the butts of two trees, is
now in the tower, and is hewn and carved to represent rocks be
strewn with skulls and bones ; the mortice holes for the crucifix
27

Devon [ch. ii
and attendant figures remain.' Early fifteenth-century figures
painted on the wall were discovered when the church was ' re
stored ' in 1849, but they were covered with whitewash !
The making of woollen goods throve in earlier times in Cul
lompton, and a rich clothier, John Lane by name, and his wife
Thomasine, added a very beautiful aisle to the church about 1526.
The roof of the ' Lane ' aisle is covered with exquisite fan-tracery,
rich carvings, and figures of angels, and pendants droop from the
centre. The pillars, the buttresses, and parts of the outside walls
are decorated by carvings of Lane's monogram, his merchant's
mark, and different symbols of his trade.
Three miles south-east of Cullompton is another church famed
for its beautiful screen. The Plymtree screen is probably unique
in bearing on its panels the likenesses of Henry VII, his son
Prince Arthur, and Cardinal Morton. The upper part of the screen
is a magnificent bit of carving. Graceful pillars rise like stems, and
their lines curve outwards into the lines of palm-leaves, over
spreading one another, while the arches they form are filled with
most delicate tracery, supported on the slenderest shafts. Above
are four rows of carving, each of different design — one a vine, with
clusters of grapes, and this is repeated more heavily on the
capital of a pillar in the nave. The screen must have been glorious
in gold and vermilion, and gold lines cross each other, making a
sort of lattice-work, with ornaments at the points of intersection —
a large double rose, a little shield with the Bouchier knot, or the
Stafford knot, or a very naturally carved spray of oak-leaves.
Below, the panels are painted with saints and angels and bishops.
The King, Prince, and Cardinal appear in a representation of the
Adoration of the Three Kings, each one bringing his offering in a
differently-shaped vessel. Mr Mozley, a former Rector of Plymtree,
has written a most interesting pamphlet on the subject, tracing
out the likeness of these portraits to other pictures or busts of
the three. He points out that, whereas in most paintings of the
Three Kings each has a crown, that of the foremost usually laid
on the ground, in this group King Henry alone is crowned ; the
Cardinal has none ; and the Prince, who is represented as very
28

ch. ii] The Sxe
young, is wearing a boy's cap. Mr Mozley has searched carefully
for a reason that would account for the group in this little church,
and has found what seems to be a perfectly sufficient connecting
link. Lord Hastings, who married the heiress of Lord Hungerford,
and incidentally acquired the Manor of Plymtree, was the warm
friend and political ally of Cardinal Morton. The son and suc
cessor of Lord Hastings was a close personal friend of Henry VI,
and in consequence a colleague of the Cardinal, the King's chief
counsellor. There is no date on the screen, but from various de
ductions it is believed to have been painted about the end of the
fifteenth century, or a little later, and either during the lifetime or
just after the death of the three subjects of the group, and of
Lord Hastings.
Bradninch lies a short distance to the west of Plymtree, and this
church contains a very fine screen and an old and remarkable
painting of the Crucifixion. It was originally placed in an aisle
that was built in the reign of Henry VII by the Fraternity of
St John, or the Guild of Cordwainers.
The Culm runs past Bradninch, at a little distance to the east,
and a few miles farther on the river passes under the dark hills of
Killerton Park, a heavily wooded and irregular ridge, rising at
either extremity and ending in a decided slope down to the flat
space just around. The house is not an old one, although the Ac-
lands have been here since the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when Sir
John Acland moved from the estate at Landkey, near Barnstaple,
where they were already settled in the reign of Henry II. He built
a house at Culm John (quite close to Killerton) that was garri
soned for the King during the Civil War, and held out when almost
every other place in Devonshire had surrendered. But it has since
been pulled down.
There are many stories of different members of this family, but
perhaps the most romance lies in that of Lady Harriot Acland,
who, with serene courage, followed her husband through the
horrors and hardships of a campaign.
In 1776 Major Acland was with the army that had been sent to
crush the American struggle for Independence, and his wife had
29

Devon [ch. ii
accompanied him. The following extract is taken from a statement
by General Burgoyne, the General commanding the troops in
Canada : ' In the course of that campaign, she had traversed a
vast space of country in different extremities of seasons. ' She was
' restrained from offering herself to a share of the hazard expected
before Ticonderoga, by the positive injunction of her husband.
The day after the conquest of that place he was badly wounded,
and she crossed the Lake Champlain to join him.'
When he was recovered, Lady Harriot continued to follow
his fortunes through the campaign, and acquired a ' two-wheel
tumbril, which had been constructed by the artillery.' Colonel
Acland was with the most advanced corps of the army, and they
were often in so much danger of being surprised that they had to
sleep in their clothes. Once the Aclands' tent and all that was in it
was burned, but this accident ' neither altered the resolution nor
the cheerfulness of Lady Harriot, and she continued her progress a
partaker of the fatigues of the advanced corps. The next call upon
her fortitude was more distressful. On the march of the 19th, the
Grenadiers being liable to action at every step, she had been
directed by Major Acland to follow the route of the artillery and
luggage which was not exposed. At the time the action began she
found herself near a small uninhabited hut, where she alighted.
When it was found the action was becoming general and bloody,
the surgeons of the hospital took possession of the same place as
the most convenient for the first care of the wounded. Thus was
this lady in hearing of one continued fire of cannon and musketry
for some hours together, with the presumption, from the post of
her husband at the head of the Grenadiers, that he was in the most
exposed part of the action. She had three female companions — the
Baroness of Reidesel, and the wives of two British officers, Major
Harnage and Lieutenant Reynell ; but in the event their presence
served but little for comfort. Major Harnage was soon brought to
the surgeons, very badly wounded ; and a little while after came
intelligence that Lieutenant Reynell was shot dead. Imagination
will want no help to figure the state of the whole group.' Not long
afterwards Lady Harriot passed through an even severer ordeal.
30

ch. ii] The Sxe
During another engagement ' she was exposed to the hearing of
the whole action, and at last received the shock of her individual
misfortune mixed with the intelligence of the general calamity ;
the troops were defeated, and Major Ackland, desperately
wounded, was a prisoner.
' The day of the 8th was passed by Lady Harriot and her com
panions in common anxiety ; not a tent, not a shed being standing
except what belonged to the hospital, their jrefuge was among the
wounded and dying.
' I soon received a message from Lady Harriot, submitting to
my decision a proposal (and expressing an earnest solicitude to
execute it if not interfering with my designs) of passing to the camp
of the enemy and requesting General Gates's permission to attend
her husband. ... I was astonished at this proposal. After so long
an agitation of the spirits, exhausted not only for want of rest, but
absolutely want of food, drenched in rains for twelve hours to
gether, that a woman should be capable of such an undertaking as
delivering herself to the enemy, probably in the night, and un
certain of what hands she might fall into, appeared an effort above
human nature. The assistance I was enabled to give her was small
indeed ; I had not even a cup of wine to offer her ; but I was told
she had found from some kind and fortunate hand a little rum
and dirty water. All I could furnish to her was an open boat and
a few lines written upon dirty and wet paper, to General Gates,
recommending her to his protection.
' Mr Brudenell, the chaplain to the Artillery, . . . readily under
took to accompany her, and with one female servant, and the
Major's valet-de-chambre (who had a ball, which he had received in
the late action, then in his shoulder), she rowed down the river to
meet the enemy. But her distresses were not yet to end. The night
advanced before the boat reached the enemy's outposts, and the
sentinel would not let it pass, nor even come on shore. In vain
Mr Brudenell offered the flag of truce. . . . The guard threatened
to fire into the boat if they stirred before daylight.' And ' for
seven or eight dark and cold hours they were obliged to wait.
Happily, when at length she did reach the shore, Lady Harriot was
3i

Devon [ch. ii
received with all courtesy by General Gates, and had the joy of
nursing her husband back to health.
A little to the south-west of Killerton Park lie the well-ordered
park and beautiful grounds of Lord Poltimore. John Bampfylde,
his ancestor, was lord of this manor in the reign of Edward I,
but the line of succession has been threatened by an episode,
told by Prince (in his ' Worthies of Devon '), that reads like a folk-
story. At one time the head of the family was a child, who, left
an orphan very young, was given as a ward 'to some great person
in the East Country.' This gentleman carried the child away to
his own home, and, although not going quite so far as the wicked
uncle in The Babes in the Wood, behaved very treacherously to
his ward; ' concealing from him his quality and condition, and
preventing what he could any discovery thereof, his guardian
bred him up as his servant, and at last made him his huntsman.'
To any who concerned themselves about the boy, the false
guardian ' some years after gave it out, he was gone to travel (or
the like pretence), in-so-much his relations and friends, believing
it to be true, looked no further after him.' But Bampfylde's
tenants were more faithful, and one of them, on his own responsi
bility, rose to the tremendous effort and enterprise of starting off
in search of him. His loyalty was rewarded with full success, for
he was able to find and identify the young man, and, biding his
time, the tenant grasped an opportunity of talking quietly to
him, and ' acquainted him with his birth and fortunes, and finally
arranged his escape.' And in this way the true heir came to his
own again.
In the spring of 1646 Poltimore House was chosen by Fairfax as
the meeting-place of his commissioners and those sent by Sir John
Berkeley, and here they discussed the articles of the surrender of
besieged Exeter, and drew up the treaty that could be accepted by
both sides.
Sir Coplestone Bampfylde, having ' a vigorous soul,' worked
for the Restoration with so much zeal that messengers were sent
from the Parliament to arrest him, and he was forced to hide.
But ' his generous mind could not be affrighted from following
32

ch. ii] The Sxe
his duty and honour/ and as the citizens of Exeter, by this time
very dissatisfied with the Government, were beginning to arm,
declaring for a free Parliament, Sir Coplestone and other gentle
men composed an address, demanding the recall of the members
secluded in 1648, and ' all to be admitted without any oath or en
gagement previous to their entrance.' He next took his way to
London, to present ' an humble petition of right ' on behalf of the
county to General Monk, but was seized by the Parliament and
flung into the Tower. His imprisonment was brief, and Charles II
rewarded Bampfylde's energy by choosing him to be the first High
Sheriff of the county of his reign, and later appointing him to other
posts of ' trust and honour.'
John Bampfylde, a descendant of Sir Coplestone's, was a poet,
and among his verses occurs this charming sonnet, on that not
unknown event in Devon — a Wet Summer :
' All ye who far from town in rural hall,
Like me, were wont to dwell near pleasant field,
Enjoying all the sunny day did yield —
With me the change lament, in irksome thrall,
By rains incessant held ; for now no call
From early swain invites my hand to wield
The scythe. In parlour dim I sit concealed,
And mark the lessening sand from hour-glass fall ;
Or 'neath my window view the wistful train
Of dripping poultry, whom the vine's broad leaves
Shelter no more. Mute is the mournful plain,
Silent the swallow sits beneath the thatch,
And vacant hind hangs pensive o'er his hatch,
Counting the frequent drip from reeded eaves.'
Poltimore is nearly two miles east of the Exe, and if a straight
line across country were followed to the river, the traveller would
arrive almost at the point where the Culm flows into the larger
stream. The valley here is rather broad, and the river winds
between pleasant, rich, green meadows and wooded hills, most
of which rise in gentle, easy slopes. Not quite two miles north of
Exeter, the Exe turns due south, and is joined by the Creedy,
running south-west. Westcote, in flowery language, describes the
scene, painting a picture which would stand good to-day, but
33 c

Devon [ch, ii
that nearly all the mills are gone. Cowley Bridge, ' built of fair
square stone,' stands just above the junction, ' where Exe
musters gloriously, being bordered on each side with profitable
mills, fat green marshes and meadows (enamelled with a variety
of golden spangles of fragrant flowers, and bordered with silver
swans), makes a deep show, as if she would carry boats and
barges home to the city ; but we are opposed by Exwick wear,
and indeed wears have much impaired his lustre and portable
ability, which else might have brought his denominated city rich
merchandise home to the very gates.'
Here one may leave the Exe to follow the Creedy upstream for
five miles or so, till Crediton is reached. ' Creedy ' comes from the
Celtic word Crwydr, a hook or crook, a name that its tortuous way
must have earned. The river runs between crumbling banks of
soft earth, and shifts its course a little after any great flood. It is
curious to notice the difference after heavy rains between the Exe
and the Creedy, for while the former will be still a comparatively.
clear brown, even when it comes down a great swirling flood,
thundering over the weirs and hurrying along honeycombs of foam,
the Creedy will have turned to a surging, turbid volume of water,
of a deep red, terra-cotta colour, that leaves traces of red mud in
the overhanging trees when the river has subsided.
The valley is a narrow one, and on the hill-sides are copses and
orchards, lovely as a sea of pink and white blossoms, and very
admirable on a bright day in September, when the bright crimson
cider apples, and golden ones with rosy cheeks, are showing among
the leaves, and the hot sunshine, following a touch of frost,
brings out the clean, crisp, sweet scent of ripe apples till it floats
across roads and hedges. Leland remarks that ' the ground
betwixt Excestre and Crideton exceeding fair Corn Greese and
Wood. There is a praty market in Kirton.' Kirton was the popular
name for the town. Its origin is far to seek, for the saying runs :
' Crediton was a market town,
When Exeter was a vuzzy* down.'
* Vuzz, i.e. furze.
34

ch. ii] The Sxe
However this may have been, it is, at any rate, certain that the
Bishops of Devon were seated at Crediton for over one hundred
and forty years before, in 1050, Leofric removed to Exeter. And
nearly two and a half centuries before the first Bishop settled at
Crediton, religious feeling was awake, as is shown by the story of
St Boniface, or, as he was originally called, Wynfrith. This saint,
the great missionary to the Germans, is believed to have been born
here in the year 680, and at a very early age he wished to become
a monk. His desire was not at once granted, for his father could
not bear to part with him, and much opposition had to be overcome
before he was allowed to go to school in Exeter. After he was
ordained, Boniface won the respect and confidence of Ina, King of
the West Saxons, but feeling that his work lay in another country,
he went to Thuringia, to throw his strength into the conversion of
the heathen. Combining ' learning, excellency of memory, integrity
of life, and vivacity of spirit, he was fit for great employment/
says an old writer, and he was chosen Archbishop of Mentz, be
coming the chief authority on all spiritual matters in Germany.
In spite of the heavy cares and toils entailed by his high office, St
Boniface still laboured personally among the recalcitrant heathen,
and in his seventy-sixth year
' Had his death by faithless Frisians slain.'
Eight Bishops lived and died at Crediton, and the ninth de
manded that the see should be transferred from Crediton to
Exeter. The chief reason put forward was that Exeter was a
strong city, and less likely to be ravaged by Irish Danes and other
' barbarian pirates/ but Professor Freeman suggests that Leofric
also desired the change because he had been educated on the
Continent, where it was never the custom for a Bishop's chief seat
to be in a village when a larger town was in his diocese. Anyhow,
Leofric obtained his wish, and was led to his throne in St Peter's
Church in Exeter by the King on one hand and the Queen on the
other; in the presence of two Archbishops and other nobles.
The palace and park at Crediton remained in the possession of
the Bishops till the Dissolution. 35 c 2

Devon [ch. ii
The beautiful Church of St Cross stands either upon or close to
the site of the original cathedral of the Bishops, which, on the
removal of the See to Exeter, was made a collegiate church,
with precentor, treasurer, dean, eighteen canons and as many
vicars, besides singing-men or lay-vicars.
The present church is mainly Perpendicular, though the Lady
Chapel is early Decorated, and there are portions of still earlier
work. The tower is central, square, and rather low. It is sur
mounted by four embattled turrets, and battlements run round
the roof of the church. The whole building is of a soft rose-red
colour, but the walls within were once whitewashed, and are now
of a slightly cooler tint. The clustered pillars look as if, over a
warm, soft grey, a faint, transparent tinge of rose-colour had
passed, leaving a very lovely effect ; they are tall and graceful,
and delicate carving adorns the capitals. The nave is lofty
and unusually long. On the south side of the chancel are
sedilia, once elaborately decorated and glorious in vermilion
and gold ; a design resembling a very large but intricate network
in gold spreads over the backs of the sedilia, and a little figure,
with faint traces of colour and gilding, stands at one end. On the
north side of the chancel is the effigy, lying at full length, of
William Peryam ; and close by is a monument to John Tuckfield,
engraved with an epitaph full of praise, in which occur these
lines, in peculiar lettering and spelling :
' Why do I live, in Life and Thrall,
Of Joy and all Bereaft,
Yor Winges were grown. To Heaven are flown,
'Cause I had none am Leaft.'
The Lady Chapel is beautifully decorated. At the south end of
the choir is a large tomb, on which lie, side by side, the effigies of a
knight in armour and a lady with a wonderful head-dress, large
and square. The figures are somewhat mutilated, but the little
angels that supported her head can just be distinguished. The
tomb is supposed to be that of Sir John Sully and his wife ; he,
having fought at Crecy and Poictiers, lived to give evidence, at
the age of 105, in the great Scrope and Grosvenor controversy.
36

ch. ii] The Sxe
In the south porch is a bit of early English work, a piscina and
holy-water stoup side by side, under one arch, with a very slender
detached shaft between. The upper portion of the font is late
Norman, and is dark, shallow, and square. Behind the font a small
door and tiny staircase lead up to the parvise, where is stored a
library that was given for the priest's use. The books include a
' Vinegar ' Bible, an Eikon Basilike, and other treasures.
There is a curious account of a miracle that took place in this
church on August I, 1315, while Bishop Stapeldon was cele
brating Mass. Thomas Orey, a fuller by trade, of Keynsham,
became suddenly blind one day in Easter week for no apparent
reason. A vivid dream that, if he should visit the Church of Holy
Cross at Crediton, his sight would return, induced him to journey
there with his wife, and several witnesses, afterwards called by the
Bishop to give evidence, solemnly asserted that when he arrived
in the town he was totally blind. Two days he spent in the church,
and on the third, he being ' instant at prayer before the altar of
St Nicholas, suddenly recovered his sight.'
Crediton had for a long time a very important trade in woollen
goods, which were made here as early as in the thirteenth century.
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth it was one of the principal centres
of the manufacture in the county, and, indeed, caused Exeter so
much jealousy that weavers, tuckers, and others, petitioned the
authorities until it was ordained that the serge-market should be
removed from here, and a weekly one set up in Exeter, to the great
and natural indignation of Crediton. ' Their market for kersies
hath been very great, especially of the finer sort/ says Westcote,
' for the aptness and diligent industry of the inhabitants . . . did
purchase it a supereminent name above all other towns, whereby
grew this common proverb — as fine as Kirton spinning . . . which
spinning was very fine indeed, which to express, the better to gain
your belief, it is very true that 140 threads of woollen yarn spun
in that town were drawn together through the eye of a tailor's
needle ; which needle and threads were, for many years together,
to be seen in Watling-street, in London, in the shop of one Mr
Dunscombe.' 37

Devon [ch. ii
Crediton was once, for a brief but fateful moment, the focus of a
very serious movement. During 1549 discontent showed itself in
many parts of England, and very gravely in the West, where a
rising of Devonshire and Cornish men brought about the ' Affair of
the Crediton Barns,' and culminated in the siege of Exeter. The
first definite outbreak was at Sampford Courtenay, on Whit
Monday, June 10. On Sunday the Book of Common Prayer was
used for the first time, but the people were dissatisfied. They did
not care to hear the service in their own tongue instead of in Latin,
and they resented all the other changes. And when on Monday the
priest was ' preparing himself to say the service as he had done
the day before . . . they said he should not do so. . . . In the end,
whether it were with his will or against his will, he ravisheth him
self in his old Popish attire, and sayeth Mass, and all such services
as in Times past accustomed.'
The news of this incident spread ; other villages followed suit,
and the local magistrates unwillingly recognized that the ferment
of rebellion was working, and met together to try and reason the
people into a more submissive frame of mind. But the movement
was too full of force to be arrested by such gentle methods, and the
justices, ' being afraid of their own shadows, . . . departed without
having done anything at all.' Unfortunately, their reasoning had
merely an irritating effect, so that, when a certain gentleman
named Helions tried mildly to enforce some of the remonstrances,
a man struck him on the neck with a billhook and killed him.
This blow seems to have stirred the mob into taking a definite
course of action, and they marched on Crediton. News of the dis
turbance had, meanwhile, reached the King, and Sir Peter and Sir
Gawen Carew were sent down in haste to deal with the matter.
From Exeter, they and several other gentlemen rode to confer
with the people ; but the people, having had notice of the arrival
of the knights, ' they intrench the highways, and make a mighty
rampire at the Town's End, and fortify the same,' and ' also the
Barns of both sides of the way.' The walls were pierced with
' loops and holes for their shot,' and ' so complenished with
men, well appointed with bows and arrows and other weapons,
38

ch.ii] The Sxe
that there was no passage nor entry for them into the town.' Nor
would they listen to " the Gentlemen,' but refused all conference.
The ' Warlike Knights ' then tried force, but were driven back
with loss, by a heavy volley. ' Whereupon some one strong
man of that company,' says Hooker (who must have admired
decision), ' unawares of the gentlemen, did set one of the barns
on fire, and then the Commoners, seeing that, ran and fled away
out of the town.' This ended all the trouble in Crediton, though
the smoking barns served as fuel to the growing spirit of revolt,
and the ' Barns of Crediton ' became a party-cry.
Clarendon mentions briefly that Charles I came here on his way
into Cornwall, and reviewed the troops under Prince Maurice.
About one hundred and fifty years later the distant echoes of
war sounded faintly in Crediton, for French prisoners of war on
parole, Napoleon's soldiers, were allowed to live in this town.
Vague rumours of them may still be heard. The sexton remembers
that his mother often told about them, and one of the first people
he buried was a man named Henry, ' though/ he explained,
' they spell it rather differently.' The melancholy fate of this
stranger throws a light on one of the disregarded tragedies in the
train of war, for Henri was not a soldier, but the son of a French
prisoner. For some reason he never went home, and died in the
workhouse. Amongst the conditions that the prisoners on parole had to sign
was : ' Not to withdraw one mile from the boundaries prescribed
there without leave for that purpose from the said Commissioners;'
and on some roads a stone was put up marking the limits. One of
these stones, of grey limestone, and very like a milestone with no
inscription, is still to be seen jutting out from the bank of Sho-
brooke Park, on the Stockleigh Pomeroy road. Another witness to
the presence of the French prisoners lies in the name that clings
to a bit of road running behind the Vicarage, for it is still sometimes
called the Belle Parade, and tradition says that here they used to
assemble "on Sundays.
Returning along the river, one passes through the. property of
the late Sir Redvers Buller. Downes is a white house standing
39

Devon [ch. ii
amongst green open lawns sloping to the river, and it has a back
ground of great trees and ample shrubberies. The Bullers at one
time lived chiefly in Cornwall, and Downes was originally a
shooting-box. A hay-loft stood at one end, and when the house
was enlarged the archway under which the hay-waggons were
driven was left standing, and now forms part of the drawing-room
— a room with an unusually high ceiling. A member of the family
has been kind enough to send me notes of one or two incidents in
the history of the Bullers.
' The whole Buller family was at one time reduced to a single
individual, John Francis Buller. He died of the smallpox. His
mother insisted on seeing him after death. It was in the days
when air was considered highly prejudicial to smallpox patients,
who were covered with red cloth, and every window and cranny
through which air might enter was carefully closed. To minimize
the risk to his mother, who would listen to no dissuasion, all the
windows and doors were opened, and a draught of air admitted,
with the result that when his mother entered the room the dead
man rose from his bed and received her.' Mr Buller lived to
marry Rebecca, daughter of the Bishop Trelawney who was one
of the seven Bishops sent to the Tower by James II. His arrest
created intense indignation in his own county ; and he is the
Trelawney referred to in the well-known fragment, all that
remains of a ballad written at the time to express Cornish feeling :
' And shall they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen ?
And shall Trelawney die ?
There's twenty thousand Cornishmen*
Will know the reason why.'
A later Mr Buller of Downes had a brief but unpleasant experi
ence of the feeling of the mob in regard to the Reform Bill.
' I recollect hearing that at the time of the first Reform Bill
(1830) the members of the House of Commons were threatened
with dire consequences if they could not give what the mob con
sidered satisfactory answers to their questions.
' Mr Buller of Downes was on his way to the House in his own
* In another version * underground ' — i.e., miners.
40

ch. ii] The Sxe
carriage, when a crowd stopped him, demanding to know how he
meant to vote. He took no notice of their request, but remained
quietly seated, when some of the men opened the carriage door
with cries of, " Pull him out ! Pull him out !" and were proceeding
to carry out their threat, when his servant, who was standing
behind the carriage, sprang up to the roof, and, waving his hat,
shouted : " What ! don't you know my master, Squire Buller ?
Why, he's always for the people !" Whereupon the door was closed
again with a bang, the coachman told to drive on, and " Squire
Buller " reached the House without further molestation.'
Two miles farther on the river passes the village of Newton St
Cyres, or Syriak Newton, as some of the older writers called it. The
church has several interesting features, and escaped the ruthless
' restoration ' that so many village churches suffered from at the
beginning of the nineteenth century. Alders and willows overhang
the stream, which winds its way to the south-west, and about two
miles farther on one arrives again at Cowley Bridge. The Valley of
the Exe gets ever wider and flatter, and after Exeter has been
passed the flatness on either side of the banks increases as the river
draws near the estuary.
Topsham stands at the head of the estuary, and is a pleasant
little town, whose great days are gone by. It is difficult to believe
that in the reign of William III Topsham had more trade with New
foundland than any other port in the country excepting London.
Presumably it was at this time that certain Dutch merchants
came to live here, and built themselves quaint narrow houses of
small Dutch bricks', painted the colour of bath-bricks. Rounded
gable-ends are a feature of these houses, which may still be seen
along the Strand. In many cases the clerk's house, a smaller,
humbler dwelling of exactly the same design, stands close to the
merchant's, separated by their respective gardens.
Till wooden ships were superseded, frigates for the navy were
built here, but now, although some of the largest ships stop and
unload their cargoes for Exeter, there is little of the stir and bustle
that the town must once have rejoiced in.
Miss Celia Fiennes, who rode through England about 1695,
41

Devon [ch. ii
mentions Topsham in her diary as ' a little market place and a
very good Key ; hither they convey on horses their serges and soe
load their shipps wh comes to this place, all for London.' She also
speaks of Starcross, on the farther side of the river, ' where the
Great shipps ride, and there they build some shipps.'
In the end of the seventeenth century there sprang from
Topsham a man of great resoluteness, pluck, and the spirit to
fight against tremendous odds in cold blood. Robert Lyde,
mate of the Friend's Adventure, himself wrote an account of his
fortunes on board that vessel. Lyde's great bitterness against
the French is explained by the fact that he had already suffered
intensely at their hands. Two years before he had been captured
at sea by a French privateer, and imprisoned at St Malo, ' where
we were used with such inhumanity and cruelty that if we had
been taken by the Turks we could not have been used worse.' The
prisoners were almost starved, and their condition was wretched in
every respect. ' These and their other barbarities made so great
an impression on me that I did resolve never to go a prisoner there
again, and this resolution I did ever since continue in.' But when
he was for the second time made prisoner — this time on board the
Friend's Adventure — there seemed no escape from this evil fate.
The crew were all removed from the ship, excepting Lyde and one
boy, who, under a prize-master and six men, were to help in
sailing her to St Malo. The idea of returning to the identical prison
where he had endured such misery made Lyde desperate, and, find
ing no easier expedient, he determined to pit himself against the
seven as soon as he could persuade the boy to join him. The boy,
not unnaturally, hung back from such a venture, and before he
could screw his courage to the sticking-place they had arrived off
a small harbour near Brest, and the French had fired a ' patteroe '
for a pilot. ' Whereupon, considering the inhuman usage I for
merly had in France, and how near I was to it again, struck me
with such terror that I went down between decks and prayed God
for a southerly wind, to prevent her from going into that harbour,
which God was most graciously pleased to grant me, for which I
returned my unfeigned thanks.' 42

ch. ii] The Sxe
Lyde's anxiety to attack the French was now redoubled, and
when they invited him to their breakfast, he was so ' ready to
faint with eagerness to encounter them ' that he could not stay in
the same cabin. He went up ' betwixt decks ' to the boy, ' and
did earnestly entreat him to go up presently to the cabin and stand
behind me, and knock down but one man, in case two laid on me,
and I would kill and command all the rest presently. ' The boy, how
ever, was timid, and when Lyde, to spur him into resistance, told all
the horrible details of his former captivity, he calmly replied : ' If
I do find it as hard as you say when I am in France, I will go along
with them in a privateer.' ' These words,' writes Lyde, ' struck
me to the heart, which made me say : " You dog ! What ! will you
go with them against your King and Country, and Father and
Mother ? Sirrah ! I was a prisoner in France four months, and
my tongue cannot express what I endured there, yet I would not
turn Papist and go with them. If I should take my brother in
a French privateer, after he had sailed willingly with them, I
would hang him immediately." ' Perhaps at this point the boy
began to fear opposing Lyde as much as attacking all the French
men, for he now consented to help, and was told that if he would
knock down the man at the helm, all the others should be Lyde's
affair. The sang-froid of the ensuing conversation is remarkable.
' Saith the boy, " If you be sure to overcome them, how many do
you count to kill ?" I answered that I intended to kill three of
them. Then the boy replied, " Why three, and no more ?" I
answered that I would kill three for three of our men that died in
Prison when I was there.' Lyde went on to express a hope that
some day a ' Man-of-War or Fireship ' will try to avenge ' the
Death of those four hundred men that died in the same Prison of
Dinan.' But the boy's fears found the present scheme too merci
ful, and he protested, ' Four alive would be too many for us.'
The attack was made when two Frenchmen were asleep in the
cabin. ' I went softly aft into the cabin, and put my back against
the bulkhead, and took the iron crow and held it with both my
hands in the middle of it, and put my legs to shorten myself, be
cause the cabin was very low. But he that being nighest to me,
43

Devon [ch. ii
hearing me, opened his eyes, and perceiving my intent and upon
what account I was coming, he endeavoured to rise to make re
sistance against me, but I prevented him by a blow upon his fore
head which mortally wounded him.' The other man received a
heavy blow as he was rising, ' very fiercely endeavouring to come
against me. . . . The master, lying in his cabin on my right hand,
rose and sat in his cabin, and seeing what I had done, he called
me by most insulting names.' But ' having his eyes every
way,'" Lyde turned on him with a blow which made him ' lie as
still as if he had been dead.'
He then went to ' attack the two men who were at the pump,
where they continued pumping without hearing or knowing what
I had done;' but one of the wounded men crawled out of the
cabin, and when the men at the pump ' saw his blood running out
of the hole in his forehead, they came running aft to me, grinding
their teeth as if they would have eaten me ; but I met them as
they came within the steeridge door, and struck at them ; but the
steeridge not being above four foot high, I could not have a full
blow at them, whereupon they fended off the blows, took hold of
the crow with both their hands close to mine, striving to haul it
from me ; then the boy might have knocked them down with
much ease, but that his heart failed him.' The master was by this
time so far recovered that he was able to join the other two,
so that Lyde fought for his life against the three. The boy at one
moment, thinking him overborne, ' cried out for fear. Then I said,
" Do you cry, you villain, now I am in such a condition ? Come
quickly and knock this man on the head that hath hold of my left
arm." The boy took some courage, but struck so faintly that he
missed his blow, which greatly enraged me ; and I, feeling the
Frenchman about my middle hang very heavy, said to the boy,
" Go round the binikle and knock down that man that hangeth on
my back "; so the boy did strike him one blow on the head, and he
went out on deck staggering to and fro.' After a further tremen
dous effort, Lyde killed one of the three struggling with him, and
the two others then begged for quarter ; and at last he set sail
for Topsham, with five living prisoners under hatches. But his
44

EXMOUTH FROM COCKWOOD

ch . ii] The Sxe
troubles were not yet all passed. Exhausted as he was, he dared
not rest, and suffered from want of sleep, bad weather, and, when
he reached home, a cold welcome. Arrived at Topsham Bar, he had
no English colours to run up, and the pilot he signalled feared to
come out. Lyde did not dare to bring in the ship by himself at
night, and was blown off the coast, so that he had the further
labour of getting close to the bar a second time. In the end he did
succeed in getting safely home.
Just beyond Topsham the little river Clyst joins the Exe. It
has given names to a surprising number of villages and manors,
considering the shortness of its course — Clyst St Mary, Clyst
St Laurence, Honiton Clyst, and so on. At Clyst St George a
small estate used to be held on the curious tenure of ' the annual
tender of an ivory bow.' About two miles east of the river the
land begins to slope upwards to the moorland of Woodbury
Common, and on one part of the heath are the remains of an
ancient entrenchment called Woodbury Castle. ' No castle at all,
built with little cost,' says Westcote, ' without either lime or
hewn stone : only a hasty fortification made of mother-earth for
the present to serve a turn for need, with plain ditches, the
Saxons' usual structure, who commonly lay sub dio, with no other
shelter or coverture than the starry canopy.'
Woodbury and Lympstone — a village on the edge of the
estuary — were once owned by the family of De Albemarle, which
name was gradually transformed into Damarel, and in this guise
is not uncommon in the West to-day.
Two and a half miles farther on is Exmouth — a town fortunate
in the delightful views on every side. The sea stretches away
to the south ; on the north-east the hills rise towards Wood
bury Common ; on the west lie the broad, shining reaches of the
river, and beyond them the beautiful heights of Haldon. Here
' Ex taketh his last tribute with a wider channel and curled
waves, shedding itself into the sea.'
Exmouth has a rather curious history. In the early part of the
eighteenth century it was little more than a hamlet, chiefly con
sisting of fishermen's cottages; but soon afterwards it became a
45

Devon [ch. ii
fashionable watering-place — according to report, because one of
the judges on circuit was charmed with the sea-bathing here.
The town continues to flourish and is greatly patronized by visi
tors. The strangeness of the history lies in the fact that Exmouth
should ever have been reduced to such a humble condition, for it
inherited great traditions. When the Danes descended on it in
iooi, they found there a town and a castle, and being ' valiantly
repelled by the guardians ' of the latter, they revenged themselves
by burning the town.
In the reign of King John, Exmouth was a port of some conse
quence, and when Edward III was at war with France it was able
to contribute no fewer than ten ships for an attack on Calais.
Risdon says there was ' sometime a castle, but now the place hath
no defence than a barred haven and the inhabitants' valour.' It
is a little puzzling that both he and Westcote, writing about the
beginning of the seventeenth century, should imply that the old
fortress had no successor, for a very few years later Exmouth was
garrisoned for the King. Either a fort must have been erected in
the short interval, or some building turned into a tolerable substi
tute, for in the spring of 1646 ' Fort Exmouth ' was blockaded
by Colonel Shapcote, and defended with great courage by Colonel
Arundell. It capitulated less than a month before the surrender
of Exeter.

46

WHHO

CHAPTER III
The Otter and the Axe
' Dear native brook ! Wild streamlet of the West !
How many various fated years have past,
What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
Numbering its light leaps ! yet so deep imprest
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
I never shut amid the sunny ray,
But straight with all their tints thy waters rise.
Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,
And bedded sand, that, veined with various dyes,
Gleamed through thy bright transparence ! On my way,
Visions of childhood ! oft have ye beguiled
Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs :
Ah ! that once more I were a careless child !'
Coleridge : Sonnet to the River Otter.
THE River Otter rises in Somerset, and runs nearly due
south, bearing slightly westwards till it reaches Honiton.
Here it makes a curve still farther to the west, and from
Ottery St Mary runs southwards to the sea. In West-
cote's day, when the derivations of names were taken in a light-
hearted spirit, it was said : ' The river Otter, or river of otters
(water-dogs), taking name from the abundance of these animals
(which we term otters) sometime haunting and using it.' But
the more serious authorities of to-day do not allow that the otters
in this river have anything to do with the matter, and say that
the name comes from the Welsh y dwr, the water. It is a rapid
and very clear stream, flowing through green and fertile valleys.
Honiton filled Defoe with admiration when he came to it on his
journey to the West. He describes it as ' a pleasant, good town,
that stands in the best and pleasantest part of the whole country
. . . and to the entrance into Honiton the view of the country is
the most beautiful landscape in the world, a mere picture, and I
do not remember the like in any one place in England.' Beyond
this pleasantness there is nothing very remarkable in the town ;
47

Devon [ch. iii
perhaps its most uncommon feature being a stream of clear
water that runs down the street, with square dipping-places at
intervals. To the west the town looks over a space of comparatively
flat country, but on the north-west it is overshadowed by
St. Cyres Hill, and farther north is the bold height of
Dumpdon. On the top of this hill are the remains of an oval
camp, and a few miles away to the north-west is the better-known
camp called Hembury Fort. The fort stands very high, and
looks south to the sea beyond the Vale of the Otter, and west to
Haldon and the fringes of Dartmoor over Exeter. Three ram
parts surround the fort, which covers a large space of ground,
and it is ' divided into two parts by a double agger. . . . Several
Roman coins, and an iron " lar " representing a female figure
three inches high, have been found here.'
A great Roman road passes by Honiton. The Fosseway ran
from Caithness to Totnes (according to some authorities, on
into Cornwall) , and crossed the country between Exeter or Seaton
and Lincolnshire. It is thought that the Romans, in making
their famous roads, usually followed the line of still older British
ways. In coaching days Honiton was well known as a stage for
changing horses. Gay, who was a Devonshire man, a native
of Barnstaple, says in his Journey to Exeter, iyi6, from London :
' Now from the steep, 'midst scatter'd farms and groves,
Our eye through Honiton's fair valley roves ;
Behind us soon the busy town we leave.
Where finest lace industrious lasses weave.'
Here the poet mentions the one characteristic of the town
known to strangers — the lace-making. When or how it was
first started is not exactly known, but there is a theory that
certain Flemings, escaping to England from the persecutions of
the Duke of Alva, settled near Honiton and introduced the art
towards the end of the sixteenth century. The evidence is too
slender to prove that this was so, but there is no doubt that
by the beginning of the next century the industry was well
48

ch. iii] The Otter and the <Axe
established, for in the Church of St Michael is a memorial brass
plate recording that James Rodge of Honiton
in ye County of Devonshire (Bonelace Siller)
Hath given unto the Poore of Honinton P'ishe
The Benefytt of ^ioo for ever.
Who deceased ye 27 of July A'o. Di. 1617. iEtate suae 50.
Remember ye poore.
So it is obvious that before 1617 there must have been enough
lace to dispose of to make the sale of it profitable.
About forty years later Fuller wrote a spirited defence of lace-
making on economic grounds. It was then ' made in and about
Honyton, and weekly returned to London.' He says : * Though
private persons pay for it, it stands the state in nothing. . . .
Many lame in their limbs and impotent in their arms, if able in
their fingers, gain a livelyhood thereby, not to say that it saveth
some thousand of pounds yearly, formerly sent over seas to fetch
Lace from Flanders.' At this time the lace trade flourished
greatly, although there was always a difficulty in competing with
Belgium, because of the superiority of its silky flax, finer than
any spun in England. Later the workers fell on evil days, for
during the American War there was little money to spend on
luxuries ; and, besides, about this time the fashion of wearing
much lace came to an end. In 1816 the introduction of ' machine
net ' supplanted the vrai reseau, the groundwork of the lace made
by hand, and this took away work from very many people, besides
lowering prices, so that the workers became discouraged, and the
quality as well as the quantity of the lace suffered much in conse
quence. Queen Adelaide tried to stimulate the dwindling trade by
ordering a lace dress, every flower in which was to be copied from
Nature. The initials of the flowers chosen spelt her name :
Amaranth,
Daphne, Eglantine,
Lilac,
Auricula, Ivy,Dahlia, Eglantine. 49 D

Devon [ch. iii
Queen Victoria's wedding-dress was made at Beer, and of later
years there has been a revival of lace-making, especially in the
neighbourhood of Honiton and of Beer ; and considerable quanti
ties are made by village women living at home.
But lace is not the only thing that comes from Honiton. Cider is
made there, and in the reign of George II making it must have been
a very profitable occupation. Defoe notes: ' They tell us they send
twenty thousand hogsheads of cider hence every year to London,
and (which is still worse) that it is most of it bought there by the
merchants to mix with their wines — which, if true, is not much to
the reputation of the London vintners. But that by-the-bye.'
As cider-making was then in such a prosperous condition, it is
easy to understand the tremendous outcry that arose a few years
later, when Lord Bute imposed the enormous tax of ten shillings
per hogshead, to be paid by the first buyer. The storm provoked
was so violent, the opposition of country gentlemen of all shades
of politics so unanimous, that the Prime Mimister modified the
tax to one of four shillings on each hogshead, to be paid by the
grower, who was thereby rendered liable to the domiciliary visits
of excisemen. This alteration was vehemently protested against-,
and Pitt championed the opposition on the grounds that it was an
Englishman's pride that every man's house was his castle, and
denounced as intolerable a Bill that allowed excisemen to invade
the house of any gentleman who ' owned a few fruit-trees and
made a little cider.' The City of London sent petitions to the
Commons, the Lords, and the Throne ; and the counties of
Devon and Hereford, the cities of Exeter and Worcester, urged
their respective Members to make all possible resistance to the
tax. Lord Bute's personal unpopularity increased enormously,
and a shoal of squibs, caricatures, and pamphlets appeared, in
which he was held up to ridicule and contempt. One caricature
represented him as ' hung on the gallows over a fire, on which a
jack-boot fed the flames, and a farmer was throwing an excised
cyder barrel into the conflagration. In rural districts he was
burnt under the effigy of a jack-boot, a rural allusion to his name.'
An amusing story is told of Lord North in connection with this
50

ch. iii] The Otter and the *Axe
tax. Not long after it had been imposed, he and Sir Robert
Hamilton came to Ashe, near Axminster, on a visit — Lord North,
then a Lord of the Treasury, distinctly uneasy as to the risk of
coming into Devonshire, for the county was still seething with
dissatisfaction against the Government. ' He was one day thrown
into great alarm by a large party of reapers, who, having finished
cutting the wheat of the estate, approached the house with their
hooks in their hands, shouting the usual cry, " We have'n ! we
have'n !" The portentous words Lord North applied to himself,
and, pale with terror, considered himself a dead man. Sir Robert
Hamilton seized a sword, and was sallying forth to repulse the
visitors, when, meeting a member of the household, an explanation
took place, by which the fears so unconsciously excited were
removed.' It was a most ancient custom in the West — indeed, it is said
to be a remnant of the pagan rite of dedicating the first-fruits to
Ceres — to set aside either the first armful of corn that was cut or
else some of the best ears, and bind them into a little sheaf, called
a ' neck.' A fragment of the vivid description given by Miss
O'Neill in ' Devonshire Idyls ' must be quoted : ' The men carried
their reaping-hooks ; the sheaf was borne by the old man. Bare
headed he stood in the light of the moon. Strange shadows
flecked the mossy sward on sundown as he held the first-fruits
aloft and waved his arms.
' " We ha'un !" cried he, and the cry was long and wailing. The
strange intimation fell on the ear like an echo from pagan days.
One could fancy the fauns and weird beings of old had taught the
cadence to the first reapers of earth. " We ha'un !" cried he, and
all the men in the circle bowed to the very ground. ... "We
ha'un !" cried Jonas again, and again the reapers bowed and
waved. Then the old men took up another strain, at once more
jubilant and more resonant, and with an indescribable drawling
utterance sang out " Thee Neck !"— sang it out three times, and
twice the waving circle of bright steel flashed.'
On leaving Honiton, if the river is followed upstream for a
short distance, the traveller will find himself close to ruined
51 D 2

Devon [ch. iii
Ottery Mohun, the home of two celebrated families in succes
sion. Unfortunately, it has been entirely destroyed by fire.
A farm now stands among the ruins, and two fine Perpendicular
archways, and a deeply moulded and hooded arch over the front
door, alone bear witness to its former state. In the spandril above
the outer archway is carved, ' amid elegant scroll-work and foliage,
an arm, vested in an ermine maunch, the hand grasping a golden
fleur-de-lys ' — the old coat-armour of the Mohuns ; and on the other
spandril ' three lions passant in pale,' the bearing of the Carews.
The Mohuns were a Norman family of distinction, but in later
days were notorious rather than famous. The old peerage having
died out in the Middle Ages, a member of a cadet branch, by shame
less and persevering begging, induced Charles I to grant him a
barony. This title only survived a few generations, and the fifth
and last bearer of it was known as ' the wicked ' Lord Mohun.
His life was short — he was barely over forty when he died — but
eventful, for he was twice tried before his peers, each time on the
charge of being accessory to a murder, and the story has often
been told of the desperate duel in which Lord Mohun was killed
by the Duke of Hamilton, whom he had mortally wounded. Spec
tators burst upon the scene to discover the two principals dying
on the ground, and the two seconds fiercely fighting each other.
The history of the Carews is more interesting. Ottery Mohun
came to them towards the end of the thirteenth century, through
the heiress of the elder branch of Mohuns, whom John Carew
married. Their names were eminent in camp, court, and council,
in one reign after another ; but it is only possible to speak here of
two, Sir Gawen, and his nephew Sir Peter, on whose death the
branch that had been settled at Ottery Mohun for three cen
turies became extinct in the direct line. There is not even space
for the career of another of Sir Gawen's nephews, to whom Queen
Elizabeth wrote, with her own hand, in regard to his efforts in
subduing the Irish :
' My faithful George,
' If ever more services of worth were performed in shorter
space than you have done, we are deceived among many witnesses.'
52 .

ch. iii] The Otter and the <Axe
Sir Peter's youth was spent very strangely even for that age of
hazards and chances. As a child he was sent to school in Exeter,
where he was so exceedingly naughty that complaints were made
to his father, and Sir William, who had remarkable ideas of dis
cipline, came to Exeter, ' tied him on a line and delivered him to
one of his servants to be carried about the town as one of his
hounds, and they led him home to Mohun's Ottery like a dog.'
Not long afterwards he was with his father in London, when,
' walking in Paul's,' they met a French gentleman, an old
acquaintance of Sir William's, who took a sudden fancy to the
boy, and offered to bring him up in France as if he were his own
son. The offer seems to have been accepted off-hand, but, unfor
tunately for the boy, the sudden fancy drooped almost as quickly
as it sprang up, and, after enjoying life for a brief moment as
an indulged page, he was turned out into the stables, ' there as
a mulett to attend his master's mule.' Here he remained till a
Mr Carew, a kinsman, happened to come to the French Court,
and near the Court gate passed ' sundry lackeys and horseboys
playing together, one of whom called to another, "Carew Anglois !
Carew Anglois !" ' This attracted Mr Carew's attention. He
called the boy and questioned him, and finding ' Carew Anglois '
to be his cousin, Mr Carew took him under his protection, rebuked
the fickle guardian, and trained up Peter ' for a space ... in the
court of France, like a gentleman.' Peter, still very young, but
extremely independent, was present at the siege of Pavia, and as
his patron had just died, and he perceived ' fortune to frown upon
the French side,' he went over to the Emperor's camp, and
entered into the service of the Prince of Orange. Five or six years
later he came home, bringing with him letters of highest commenda
tion to the King, Henry VIII, who received him with great favour.
Sir Gawen and Sir Peter together took a prominent part in
1549, in dealing with the insurrection of Devonshire and Cornish
men against the Reformed religion. Sir Peter, indeed, was after
wards blamed for being over-zealous, and thereby aggravating
the trouble ; but he was able to clear himself, and was ' well allowed
and commended for what he had done.'
53

Devon [ch. iii
In Queen Mary's reign fresh trouble arose, from which he
escaped less easily. Many fervent Protestants were made uneasy
by the symptoms of Romish rule that began to appear, and
were still more disturbed by the news of the Queen's projected
marriage with Philip of Spain, which they felt boded ill for their
liberties, spiritual and temporal. The Carews were in the counsel
of Sir Thomas Wyatt, the Duke of Suffolk, and others, who planned
risings to depose the Queen. In a simultaneous movement, the
Carews were to raise the West under the nominal leadership of
Lord Courtenay, Sir Thomas Wyatt was to raise Kent, and the
Duke the Midland counties. But before the preparations were
complete, suspicion fell on the Carews, and a letter was despatched
from the Council, directing the Sheriff of Devon to send Sir Peter
and Sir Gawen to London.
Sir Gawen, who was in Exeter about this time, thought it best
to return quietly to his own home, and because his movements
now attracted an undesirable amount of attention, he one night
' went out over the walles of the said cytie yn his bowtes.' The
account condescends to a touching detail that should appeal to
all. Even the agitation of flying from arrest on a charge of treason
could not keep Sir Gawen from feeling footsore, and ' for that his
bowtes grieved hym he cutt them upon the waye.' Sir Gawen
was arrested a few days later, and suffered a long imprisonment.
Meanwhile Sir Peter, in answer to the summons to surrender
himself, sent the reply that he had already started for London.
But meeting on the way the bearer of a message which assured
him that two of his ' dearest friends ' here failed him, he turned
aside and escaped in a little boat from Weymouth.
Those who interest themselves in dreams and visions may care
to hear of Lady Carew's experience at this moment. The night
that Sir Peter sailed, Lady Carew dreamed very vividly ' that
as he was going aboard his bark, he should fall into the seas and
be drowned '; and so great was her trouble on awaking, that she
sent a messenger to the seaside to make inquiries for Sir Peter.
And when the messenger arrived at Weymouth, he heard the
startling news that getting ' out of the boat to enter into the
54

ch. iii] The Otter and the *Axe
bark, his [Sir Peter's] foot slided or slipped, and he therewith fell
into the seas, and had been drowned if one standing by had not
taken hold of him.'
Notwithstanding several misfortunes on the way, Sir Peter
arrived safely in France, where he lived an exciting and adven
turous life for several years, and was then treacherously seized
and carried to England and the Tower. Here the much-abused
Philip proved himself a real friend, for in an admirable letter to
the Queen he intercedes for ' Pedro Caro ' and his wife, and Sir
Peter was eventually forgiven by Queen Mary, and honoured by
Queen Elizabeth.
Between Honiton and Sidmouth is an inn called The Hunter's
Lodge (more recently The Hare and Hounds), and opposite the
house is a block of stone, over which hovers a gruesome mystery.
It is said that in the dead of night the stone used to stir in its place,
and roll heavily down into the valley, to drink at the source of the
Sid, and, some say, to try to wash away its stain. Human blood
has given it this power — the blood that gushed upon it when the
witches slew their victims, for it was once a witches' stone of
sacrifice. Five miles to the south-west of Honiton is Ottery St Mary,
a pretty little town built on very steep slopes, and full of in
teresting associations. It lies among '" fair meadows bathed
in sunshine ; with the Otter river winding through them . . .
yonder are the red Devon steers grazing up to their dewlaps in
buttercups : beyond them dusky moors melt into purple haze.'
By making a slight detour one passes the pleasant lawns and
copses of Escot. Once the property of the Alfords, Escot was
bought in 1680 by Sir Walter Yonge (father of George IPs un
popular ' Secretary-at-War '), who built a new and large house
and lavishly improved the grounds. But prodigality was the
bane of the Yonges, and not much more than one hundred years
later it passed away from Sir Walter's ruined grandson, and was
bought by Sir John Kennaway.
The streets of Ottery are steep and sinuous, and both roadway
and footwalk are paved with pebbles and cobble-stones. The
55

Devon [ch. iii
Manor of Ottery was given by Edward the Confessor to the Dean
and Chapter of Rouen, and it continued in their possession during
the reigns of nine Kings. Then the Dean, finding that the task
of collecting his rents and dues was ' chargeable, troublesome,
and sometimes dangerous . . . desired to sell it, and met with a
very fit chapman, John Grandisson, Lord Bishop of Exon.'
Ottery's greatest treasure is the beautiful church, a miniature
of Exeter Cathedral, and it is to Bishop Grandisson that its great
beauty is due. He did not build the church ; indeed, the shadow
of a terrible scandal had fallen upon it forty-five years before his
rule began. For in the year 1282 ' that discreet man, Mr Walter
de Lechelade,' the Precentor of Ottery, was waylaid coming from
Exeter Cathedral in his canonical robes, and murdered by
' certain sons of perdition full of fiendish ferocity.' ' Mr Walter
de Lechelade ' was probably extremely unpopular locally, because
he had obtained the leasefor life of the Manor and Church of Ottery
from the authorities at Rouen, and was allowed to make all the
profit he could out of the revenues. It is interesting to note the
ecclesiastical manner of dealing with such a difficulty at that date.
Out of the twenty-one persons convicted of being concerned
in the murder, no fewer than eleven were clerics ! The Vicar of
Ottery St Mary was among the number, and it is sad to say that
suspicion fell even on the Dean of Exeter.
Bishop Grandisson found an early Enghsh church. He length
ened the nave, altered the chancel, added a beautiful Lady Chapel,
and raised towers on the already existing transepts. These tran
septal towers are peculiar to this church and the other on which
he spent his enthusiasm, Exeter Cathedral. On one tower is a
steeple — there was one on the Cathedral — the lead scored by
cross-slanted lines. The church is of grey stone. The nave and
towers are battlemented, and at intervals in the outer walls are
niches, now bereft of the figures they held. Very graceful stone
tracery is in many windows, pinnacles and crosses rise from the
roof, and the whole effect is of an impressive building of rich and
elaborate detail. The number of consecration crosses is remark
able, for there are thirteen without and eight within the walls,
56

ch. iii] The Otter and the *Axe
and each marks a spot touched by the Bishop with holy oil.
Every one is a square stone panel, carved with an angel bearing
a small cross. Some are much defaced, but a few are still perfect,
and beneath several of them are the remains of iron supports,
showing where a light was burned before the ' cross ' on great
festivals. The arches of the nave are supported by clustered columns
with most delicately carved capitals ; and in the nave are two
very elaborately decorated tombs — of the Bishop's brother, Sir
Otho de Grandisson, and of Beatrice, Sir Otho's wife — each under
a monumental arch, with hanging tracery and a crocketed ogee
canopy. The finely carved and pierced minstrels' gallery in the Lady
Chapel is an exquisite piece of work ; but amongst all that is to be
most admired is the exceedingly beautiful fan-tracery in the roof
of the ' Dorset ' aisle — an aisle built by Cicely, heiress of Lord
Bonville, and widow of the Marquis of Dorset, who died in 1501.
Two short pleached alleys of limes stand within the church
yard wall, looking down over a little square into which several
streets open, and the old stocks still lie in the shadow of the trees.
Bishop Grandisson obtained a licence to establish here a 'monas
tery or collegiate church for a fixed number of secular canons . . .
governed mainly by a Warden, a Minister, and Sacrist, and a
Chanter or Precentor,' and he drew up a most comprehensive set
of statutes for their guidance. Occasionally he issued additional
' monitions,' as, for example, when the Warden had allowed
stage-plays to be performed in church during the Christmas holi
days. It is reasonable to suppose, however, that they were
' mystery plays ' or ' moralities.'
Lord Coleridge says : ' The town was dominated by the College.
The bridge by which you entered the town from the West was the
bridge of the Holy Saviour. In one of its recesses the sacred
light was ever kept burning, inviting those who passed to pray.'
Henry VI and Henry VII both visited the College. The Dis
solution swept it away, but a part of its endowment was devoted
to founding the King's Grammar School.
57

Devon [ch. iii
Many incidents befell Fairfax and his troops at Ottery. It was
chosen for their winter-quarters in 1645, and they arrived worn-
out and exhausted and in great need of refreshment. Ill-fortune,
however, awaited them, as the Rev. Joshua Sprigg, General Fair
fax's chaplain, tells us in Anglia Rediviva, his account of this
army's movements. A mysterious disease broke out, very fatal,
so that there were ' dying of soldiers and inhabitants in the town
of Autree, seven, eight, and nine a day, for several weeks together.'
A Colonel Pickering died of it, on whom the chaplain wrote an
elegy. One has heard of blank-verse that is merely ' prose cut
into lengths,' but his lines suggest that they must have been on
the rack to bring them to the right measure. The author feared
that it was the lack of action that had proved fatal.
' Must thou be scaling heaven alone,
For want of other action ?
Wouldst thou hadst took that leisure time
To visit some responsal clime !'
But Sprigg's deep affection and respect cannot be disguised even
by his words.
At Ottery, Sir Thomas Fairfax received and entertained two
envoys from besieged Exeter, who came with a view to discussing
the possible terms of a general peace ; but their mission was, of
course, unsuccessful. A pleasant event was the presentation to
the General of a fair jewel, set with rich diamonds of great value,
' from both Houses of Parliament, as a testimonial to his great
services at Naseby.' The jewel was tied with ' a blue ribbon
and put about his neck.' Fairfax was staying in the old Chanter's
House, now the property of Lord Coleridge, and the ceremony
took place in a long panelled room, with deep-set window, then
called the Great Parlour. Here also Fairfax held a deeply
important conference with the ' Lord Generall Cromwell,' when
he came to decide the plan of campaign in the West.
Ottery St Mary is able to pride itself on being the birth
place of the poet Coleridge, whose family had long been connected
with the county. The poet's father was Vicar, and Master of the
Grammar School. Great as was his genius, Coleridge was not
58

ch. iii] The Otter and the tAxe
in every respect worthy of his birthplace, for in one of his letters
he actually announces that he prefers Somerset to Devon ! —
evidence which clearly proves the correctness of the popular
belief that poets have no judgment. But his real affection for
the Otter is shown in his sonnet to the river on whose banks he
lived in early years. Another poem, the ' Songs of the Pixies,'
was inspired by the Pixies' Parlour, a tiny cave with roots of
old trees for a ceiling, that stands halfway up a low cliff over
hanging the river, just beyond the town. In this poem are the
lines : ' When fades the morn to shadowy-pale,
And scuds the cloud before the gale,
Ere the Morn, all gem-bedight,
Hath streak'd the East with rosy light,
We sip the furze-flower's fragrant dews,
Clad in robes of rainbow hues. . . .
Then with quaint music hymn the parting gleam
By lonely Otter's sleep-persuading stream ;
Or where his wave with loud, unquiet song
Dashed o'er the rocky channel froths along ;
Or where, his silver waters smoothed to rest,
The tall tree's shadow sleeps upon his breast.'
Ottery has other associations with literature, and it is interest
ing to remember that Thackeray lived near here in his youth, and
that Ottery is the ' Clavering ' of Pendennis, which was written
while he was staying at Escot Vicarage close by.
A winter traveller in passing through the lanes near here recalls
some beliefs of a past generation : ' The faint chimes of St Mary's
in distant Ottery are playing their Christmas greeting over many
a mile of moorland. We are passing the old " cob " walls and
grey-headed barns of a substantial farmstead. The cocks will
crow here all the night before Christmas Day, according to the
beautiful legend of the county, to bid
' " Each fettered ghost slip to his several grave."
The very oxen at midnight will fall down on their knees before
the manger. The next turn brings us to the Otter rushing along
some forty feet below with angry stream.' Almost at the mouth
59

Devon [ch. iii
of the river is the village of Otterton, and here was a Benedictine
Priory, founded in the reign of King John. The Prior of this
little monastery had certain privileges. Amongst others, ten marks
had to be subscribed among the tenants for ' a palfrey to be pre
sented to a new Prior on his coming to reside in the midst of his
flock, and every plough had to plough one acre of land for him
annually.' He had the ' right of pre-emption of fish in all his ports,
and the choice of the best fish.' Conger-eels were specially men
tioned in a marginal note. Besides this, he claimed every porpoise
caught in the sea or other neighbouring waters, but paid for it
with twelve pence and a loaf of white bread to each sailor, and
two to the master of the boat from which it was caught. Lastly,
the Prior claimed the half of every dolphin. But no Prior is likely
to have had many chances of asserting this right.
The river runs into the sea by the charming little town of
Budleigh Salterton ; but it is more interesting to cross the water
at Otterton, and passing through the village of East Budleigh,
nearly opposite, to go towards Hayes Barton, the house where
Sir Walter Raleigh was born.
Fardell, near Ivybridge, was the ancestral home of the Raleighs,
but Sir Walter's father settled at Budleigh. In front of the garden
a swirling stream crosses a strip of green ; and in the garden, at
the right time, one may see the bees busy among golden-powdered
clusters of candytuft, and dark-red gillyflowers, and a few flame-
rose-coloured tulips, proud and erect. The house is very pic
turesque ; it has cob walls and a thatched roof, and is built in
the shape of the letter E ; a wing projects at either end, and in
the middle the porch juts out slightly. The two wings are gabled ;
there is a small gable over the porch and two dormer ones over
the windows at each side of it, the windows having lattice lights
and narrow mullions. Dark carved beams above them show up
well against the cream-coloured walls. The heavy door is closely
studded with nails, and over it fall the delicate sprays and lilac
' butterfly ' blossoms of a wistaria. The house has been little
altered, and its outward appearance was probably almost the
same in Sir Walter's boyhood as it is to-day.
60

z <

ch. iii] The Otter and the *Axe
In front of Hayes Barton is a hill covered with oak-woods, and
to the west the ground begins to slope upwards to the high moor
land of Woodbury Common. Sir Walter had a great affection for
his boyhood's home, and later, in trying to buy it back, he wrote
to the then owner : ' I will most willingly give you whatsoever
in your conscience you shall deem it worth ; ... for ye naturall
disposition I have to that place, being borne in that house, I had
rather seat myself there, than anywhere else.'
To realize Sir Walter at all adequately, he must be contem
plated as soldier, sailor, statesman, courtier, explorer, poet, his
torian, Governor of colonies abroad and of very important offices
at home — most of all as a seer, for his eyes discerned a light that
did not dawn on his contemporaries. He and his half-brother,
Sir Humphrey Gilbert, foresaw ' that colonization, trade, and the
enlargement of empire, were all more important for the welfare of
England than the discovery of gold.' Major Hume, who is by
no means over-prejudiced in Raleigh's favour, has said in his
' Life of Sir Walter Raleigh ' : ' To him is due the undying glory
of having made the great northern continent of America an
English-speaking country. With him it was no accident. The
plan sprang fully formed from his great brain. He was greedy
of gain, but he spent his money like water in this great project.
He knew full well that there was no gold to reward him ; that
the profit, if any, must be slow, and must accrue mainly to the
nation, and not to an individual ; and yet he laboured on for thirty
years in the face of defeat, disaster, contumely, and disgrace, in
full faith and confidence that the great continent was by God's
providence reserved for England.'
Raleigh's biographers have wondered at his immense know
ledge of naval matters, and particularly of naval warfare, for the
Ark Raleigh, which he had built after his own plans, was admitted
to be the best ship in the fleet at the time of the Armada. Per
haps his genius for absorbing information developed very early,
and Sir John Millais's picture of the two little boys, fascinated
by the words of the sailor speaking to them of the breathless
adventures he had fought through, the gorgeous sights that he
61

Devon [ch. iii
had seen in the lands overseas, helps to explain it. Most West-
Countrymen can tell a tale dramatically, as the sailor is telling it
— the picture was painted at Budleigh Salterton — and it may be
that, with Raleigh's amazing faculty for gathering knowledge,
he learned enough of seamanship as he grew up to enable him to
grasp and hoard in his memory every detail of the subject as it
came before him in later life.
It is impossible to judge any character of a past century
without trying to realize in many questions of conduct the gulf
that lies between the former point of view and our own, and
whatever Sir Walter's faults were, his genius was incomparably
greater. His failings were those of his age, and were more
than surpassed by the shortcomings of several of Queen Eliza
beth's very eminent statesmen. Raleigh left Oxford when he
was only seventeen, and joined Mr Henry Champernowne's band
of gentlemen volunteers who were fighting for the Protestant
Princes in France. After six years' fighting he left the army and
betook himself to the Middle Temple,' where possibly he spent more
time over lyrics than over the law, for a biographer, describing
this period of his life, passes over his legal acquirements, but says
that ' his vein for ditty and amorous ode was esteemed most
lofty, insolent, and passionate.' He and Spenser were very con
genial companions, and later Spenser, speaking of their great
friendship, said : ' He pip'd, I sang, and when he sang, I pip'd.'
Sir Walter left the Temple for the sea, then went to fight in
Ireland, and at the time of the Armada he was Lord Warden
of the Stannaries, and responsible for the companies of tinners,
who had turned to soldiering. He planned one expedition after
another to the New World, and sent them out mainly at his own
expense, giving careful instructions to those in charge to observe
carefully any plants or produce of any kind that might profit this
country, whereas usually explorers searched eagerly for precious
metals alone. It was due to these instructions that the potato
was brought to England. Rumour for long maintained that Sir
Walter actually brought back the plant himself, but, as a matter
of fact, the credit of this is due to Heriot, a man of science
62

ch. iii] The Otter and the *Axe
employed by Raleigh. He showed it with the other ' commodi
ties ' he had collected to Sir Walter, who took the potatoes with
him to Ireland, and planted them in his new estate of Youghal.
And though it was most probably Sir John Hawkins who in
troduced tobacco into England, it certainly was Sir Walter who
brought smoking into fashion. In parenthesis, a warning may
be given that anyone who wanders from east to west along the
south coast of Devon will be wearied beyond measure by the
numbers of rooms, banks, porches, and gardens, shown as the
identical spot ' where Sir Walter smoked his first pipe.' Dr
Brushfield, in an exhaustive article on ' Raleghana,' counts only
six places, but they reach from Penzance to Islington, and one is
in Ireland.
After the last dreary voyage, rendered fruitless by the con
temptible double-dealing of James I, and during his trial, Sir
Walter's self-possession and courage showed at their best. ' From
eight in the morning till nearly midnight he fronted his enemies
with unshaken courage. The bluster of Attorney-General Coke
roared around him without effect. " I want words," stormed the
great prosecutor, " to express thy viperous treason."
' "True," said Raleigh, " for you have spoken the same thing
half a dozen times over already." '
It was characteristic of his grand views of life that within
the four walls of a prison he should undertake no less a work
than the History of the World. The unfinished history shows
a depth of learning and dignity of style, very wonderful in the
writings of a man who spent his life in incessant and absorbing
action. It must have been the vast number of the chances and
changes of life he had seen around him, and himself experi
enced, that inspired him to write that splendid apostrophe : ' O
eloquent, just, and mighty Death ! whom none could advise, thou
hast persuaded ; what none have dared, thou hast done ; and whom
all the world have flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world
and despised ; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched
greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and
covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hie facet.'
63

Devon [ch. iii
Not only in his visions of colonies was Raleigh far in advance of
his time. Major Hume quotes his ideas on trade and commerce,
the statesmanship displayed in his Prerogative of Parliaments,
and his writings on the construction of ships and naval tactics, to
show that in each subject he had arrived at conclusions now
generally accepted, but only discovered by the public long
after his death. This biographer ends by describing him as
' perhaps the most universally capable Englishman that ever
lived.' Sir Walter's last lines were written a few hours before his death,
in his Bible : ' Even such is Time, that takes on trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust ;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days.
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust !'
Following the coast, ' running eastward with many winding and
waving creeks,' Sidmouth is soon reached. Westcote is philo
sophical over both Sidmouth and Seaton : 'In former times,
very famous ports (and every place and man hath but his time).'
Sidmouth was an important fishing town several hundred years
ago ; it is now a popular watering-place, set among high red cliffs,
amidst very pretty scenery, and favoured with a great deal of
sunshine. Leading inland are very high and steep hills, different
in shape from most of the hills in the neighbourhood, for they
are neither rounded, pointed, nor sloping, but have a curious
square, rather flat-topped look, and scarped sides.
Farther eastward, one comes to Branscombe, a straggling
village in a broad hollow where three valleys meet. A stream
flows down each combe, and eventually all three join and run
together into the sea at Branscombe Mouth. There is a great
deal to admire in the steep sides and irregular curves, softened by
the spreading woods in these valleys, and close to the shore a
hill rises almost precipitously for six hundred feet.
64

ao <u
ca OSwwca

ch. iii] The Otter and the *Axe
A very short distance further on, the white cliffs of the tiny cove
of Beer come into view. Beer is an exceptionally delightful
village, because of its strong individuality. At the top of the
inlet the houses are clustered irregularly in little offshoots, but
the main street runs down a deep cleft narrowing towards the
sea, between white gleaming chalk cliffs such as are rare in this
county. A rapid stream races down the side of the street, and,
dashing over a rock at the edge of the beach, buries itself in the
shingle. Beer Head and the cliff that separates the village from
Seaton run out into the sea, so that it is completely shut in, and
from the water's edge it is impossible to see past those massive
walls standing against the sea and sky on either side. The cove
is so small that one wonders it counts as a harbour at all, but
the beach is covered with many small boats and several heavily-
built trawlers. As I saw it, the water was a clear blue-grey, and
some sea-gulls were placidly floating a few yards from land, rising
and falling as the waves rolled in, and looking as if they must
be buried by each one. From Beer Head there is a splendid view
of the coast ; to the east, beyond Seaton, the landslip, and Lyme
Regis, the line stretches grey and dim in the distance towards
Portland ; westwards, beyond Sidmouth's red cliffs, one sees
how the land bends southward to Budleigh Salterton, and still
further south towards Exmouth.
The little inobtrusive haven of Beer was in every way convenient
for smugglers, and was naturally much beloved by them. Not
more than seventy or eighty years ago, all the people in the village
were supposed to take a share in the perils and joys of the ventures
whenever they got the chance. The greatest of their number was
a certain Jack Rattenbury, who began his life at sea when he
was nine years old. Five years later he had already decided, ' I
wished to make a figure on the stage of life,' and joined a priva
teering expedition. The ship was captured by the French, and
Rattenbury taken prisoner. He escaped from prison, but not
from Bordeaux, where for more than a year he was forced to stay,
and he then sailed on his own account to America, and back to
Havre, Copenhagen, and Guernsey. By the time he reached
65 E

Devon [ch. iii
home again he was only sixteen ! His life was an unceasing
turmoil : smuggling, privateering, being impressed for the navy,
and devising wiles for slipping away again, with the variation of
being taken prisoner by French or Spaniards.
A steep road runs through lovely scenery from Ottery to
Seaton. At intervals it passes through woods, or looks down into
the misty, green, undulating country northwards ; then, climbing
a ridge, the sea, framed in woods, is seen over little hollows in the
distant cliffs to the south. The road crosses a common with a
few knots of wind-swept fir-trees, and runs steeply down to
Seaton. On the west side of the bay the cliffs are a creamy
white ; eastwards, the shades are chiefly buff and pale brown.
The variety of their strata make the cliffs interesting to geologists,
for here are found layers of different kinds of chalk, limestone,
greensand, marls, chert, and interspersed lines of flints.
Seaton is a pleasant little town without any remarkable
feature. In the church is this curious epitaph with the date
1633 a.d. : John Starre

Starr on hie !
Where should a starr be
But on Hie ?
On the east side of Seaton is the flat wide Valley of the Axe.
The river is broad and rather important -looking, but it makes a
most inglorious exit into the sea, for a huge pebble ridge rises as an
impassable barrier, and the river has to twist away farther east
and run out obliquely through a narrow channel. Axmouth, on the
farther side, is a pretty old-fashioned little village, the thatched
whitewashed cottages forming a street that curves round almost
into a loop, while a chattering stream runs between the houses. In
the church is the figure of a tonsured priest, with chasuble, stole,
and alb, supposed to be one of the early Vicars of Axmouth. At
his feet lies a dog, and the legend goes that this was not merely
the customary image of a dog seen on tombs, but the effigy of
his own favourite, whom he desired to be buried at his feet ;
66

SEATON HEADLAND

ch. iii] The Otter and the <Axe
and as an indemnity for this order he left a piece of ground to
be devoted to charitable purposes, called Dog Acre Orchard.
Mr Rogers, in his ' Memorials of the West,' tells us that the name
remains till to-day.
A very short distance beyond is the great landslip which
fell in 1839, when about fifty acres of the cliff slid more than a
hundred feet to the shore beneath, but in such a way that part of
an orchard descended with its growing trees, and they continued
to flourish at their new level. More wonderful still, two cottages
settled down on to the shore, without falling in pieces. The ground
began to slide on the night of Christmas Eve, and by the evening
of December 26 the great mass had fallen. To the west is a
great chasm, and the cliff rises high on the seaward side. Farther
east, no cliff rises beyond the chasm, but little hillocks and sand-
dunes slope unevenly to the beach. The undercliff has not in the
least the barren look of an ordinary bit of waste ground touching
the shore, but is covered with grass and thick undergrowth, oaks
and hawthorns, and masses of ivy, and beneath them the long
spear-like leaves and scarlet-berried pods of the wild-iris.
If one returns to the Axe and begins to follow up its innumerable
bends, one arrives opposite the little town of Colyton, which is
not quite on the river. Mr Rogers says that the name comes
from the British Collh y tun, and has the pretty meaning of ' the
town where the hazels grow.'
Here is a fine church, chiefly Perpendicular, well known, among
other reasons, for a richly carved tomb, on which is the effigy of
a very small lady, a coronet on her head and a dog at her feet,
with coats of arms hanging above. The figure was always known
by the curious name of ' Little Choak-a-bone.' The old story said
that the lady was the daughter of Lord Devon and his wife,
Princess Katherine, daughter of Edward IV, and that she died
because a fish-bone choked her. Now this has been corrected,
and it is believed that the monument is of the wife of the fifth
Earl of Devon, who lived nearly one hundred years earlier. But
no disproof has been brought against the fish-bone !
Close to Colyton are the ruins of an old house of the Courtenays,
67 E 2

Devon [ch. iii
Colcombe, which has been partly converted into a farm-house.
Here Princess Katherine occasionally lived during her widow
hood. Colcombe suffered much in the Civil War, for it was gar
risoned by Prince Maurice, who led his troops into several
skirmishes with the enemy, and during one of these affairs (it is
supposed) the Castle was burned down.
The poor people living near Colcombe must have had a very
bad time, with energetic Royalist and Parliamentary troops on
either hand. Some sad little entries at this time are quoted from
the diary of a serge-maker of Colyton, in which he counts up what
he lost in cloth through the inroads of the ' Lyme Men ' (Parlia
mentarians), and the ' wostard woole ' and ' sarge ' torn from
him by ' Percy's men ' (Royalists).
Unluckily, it is not possible to pause among the throng of
interesting memories that are called up by almost every step of
the way. One may not sketch the career of Dr Marwood, who
journeyed to London from these parts and cured ' a certain
noble Lord,' a favourite of Queen Elizabeth, but returned home
because, ' finding himselfe much envyed by the Court physitians,
he thought he was not safe there !' — a naive reflection on the
doctors that reminds one of their contemporary Catherine
de' Medici's creature, Rene of Milan, who was popularly known
as V empoisonneur de la reine.
It is only possible to make a brief reference to a manor, nowa
days a farm — Ashe, where the great Duke of Marlborough was
born. Marlborough can hardly be called a son, but perhaps a
grandson, of the county, for though Sir Winston Churchill was of
Dorsetshire, the Churchills were an old Devonshire family, of
whom one branch had migrated to the next county. Ashe was
the home of the Duke's mother, Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John
Drake, and here she returned when the Civil War was just ended,
and the triumphant Parliamentarians were making themselves
very objectionable, especially to such a fervent Royalist as her
husband. Sir Winston was eventually forced to compound for so
large a sum that it was convenient for them to live for some years
with Lady Churchill's father. 68

ch. iii] The Otter and the <Axe
There is, unfortunately, no space to look at the very
interesting history of the Bonvilles, the ruins of whose old house,
Shute, in its beautiful park, among deer and woods and magnifi
cent cedars, is close to Ashe. The title became extinct in the Wars
of the Roses, for the family suffered beyond recovery, and the last
Lord Bonville had the overwhelming grief of losing his only son
and grandson in the Battle of Wakefield. The great estates passed
to his little great-granddaughter, Cicely Bonville, who, more than
forty years later, built the Dorset aisle in the church at Ottery
St Mary.
The fine building, Newenham Abbey, stood close to the out
skirts of the park, and Sir Nicholas Bonville was a great bene
factor to the Abbey, but it was founded by two brothers, Sir
William and Sir Reginald Mohun. The Abbey Church alone
was three hundred feet in length and one hundred and fifty feet
in breadth, and now of all the buildings, there remain but a few
fragments of walls and the stonework of a chapel window.
Axminster, not a mile away, was in Leland's day ' a pratie
quik Market Town.' It was the scene of one very interesting
event, for here the Duke of Monmouth's followers first met the
royal troops under the renowned General Monk, then Duke of Albe
marle, and caused them to fly before their inferior undisciplined
numbers. Albemarle dared not risk a battle, as he became
alarmed by the temper of his troops, and feared lest they might
go over to Monmouth if they did but catch sight of their beloved
hero ; for the General's troops belonged to the Devonshire militia,
and Monmouth was adored by all the country-people in the
West. The General ordered a hurried retreat, without attempt
ing any engagement, and Monmouth marched triumphantly
to Taunton. The callous brutality of Sedgmoor, and the
atrocious barbarities of the Bloody Assizes following it, are too
intolerable to think of. A ballad has been written called ' The
Sorrowful Lamentation of the Widdows of the West ', and one
wonders whether its obsequious tone is due to the author being
a partisan of James II, who expressed what he thought they
ought to feel, or whether the verse-maker was one in their midst,
69

Devon [ch. iii
who saw that there was indeed no spirit left in them. I quote
a few of the verses :
' Alas 1 we Widdowes of the West, whose Husbands did rebell,
Of Comfort we are dispossest, our sorrows did excell.
Here for their Crimes they lost their lives. Rebellion was the cause,
And we confess, that was their wives, they did oppose the Laws.
When Monmouth came ashore at Lime, it was a Fatal Day ;
To carry on that base design, which did their lives betray ;
And many daily did presume to come unto his aid,
Bridge-water, Taunton, Dean, and Frome, the Nation to invade.
We said it was a horrid thing, and pray'd them to forbear
To take up arms against their king, who was the Lawful Heir,
Yet like distracted men they run to cast their lives away,
And we their Widdowes are undone ; this is a dismal day.
Alas ! we had no cause at all, our Laws was still the same,
That we should to confusion fall, and hundreds thus be slain.
They knew not what they went about ; confusion did attend.
The Heavens would not bear them out, since they did thus offend."

70

THE WINDYPOST, OR BECKAMOOR CROSS

CHAPTER IV
Dartmoor
' Dartmoor ! thou wert to me, in childhood's hour,
A wild and wond'rous region. Day by day
Arose upon my youthful eye thy belt
Of hills mysterious, shadowy. . . . I feel
The influence of that impressive calm
Which rests upon them. Nothing that has life
Is visible : — no solitary flock
At will wide ranging through the silent Moor
Breaks the deep-felt monotony ; and all
Is motionless save where the giant shades,
Flung by the passing cloud, glide slowly o'er
The grey and gloomy wild.' Carrington : Dartmoor.
THE region of the Forest of Dartmoor and Commons of
Devon is one which excites a vast difference of opinion.
For some it has an extraordinary fascination, whilst to
others it is only, like a beautiful view in the Highlands
which I once heard depreciated by a native — ' just hills.' And the
hills on Dartmoor are not even very high. Yes Tor, till lately
thought to be the highest point, is only a little over two thousand
feet ; and High Willhayes, its superior, cannot claim to be more
than a few feet higher. So there are no towering heights or
tremendous precipices to explain its peculiar spell. Sir Frederick
Pollock, in paying true homage to the moor, gives the reason that
accounts for Dartmoor's dominion — its individuality. ' The reader
may think fit to observe, and with undisputable truth, that there
are many other moors in the world. Yes, but they are not
Dartmoor.' And there is no more to be said.
A very truthful and vivid description of the moor has been given
by the late Mr R. J. King : ' The dusky sweep of hills stretches
away with an endless variety of form and outline ; in some parts
71

Devon [ch. iv
sharply peaked, and crested with masses of broken rock ; at
others, rounded and massive, and lifting a long line of sombre
heath against the sky". The deep hollows which separate the hills
are thickly covered with fern and heather, over which blocks of
granite are scattered in all directions ; and, as in all similar dis
tricts, each valley has its own clear mountain stream, which re
ceives the innumerable waterfalls descending from the hill-sides.
The whole country has a solitude, and an impressive grandeur,
which insensibly carries back the mind to an earlier and ruder age.'
' . . . Granite-browed, thou sitt'st in grandeur lone,
Thy temples wreathed with heaven's unsalted mist ;
Feet in the brine, and face veiled by the cloud,
And vestiture by changing nature wrought —
Titan of earth and sky — silent and proud,
Even beauty kneeling hath her homage brought.
Time as a shadow speeds across thy plains,
Leaving no record of his printless feet ;
******
And all our generations come and go,
As snowflakes on thy shoulders melting slow.'*
Let the time or season be what it may, the moor has some fresh
charm to offer. In the early summer there is a special soft greenness,
and the hot air quivers above and about the rocks ; later the hill
sides are coloured by the lilac-pink of the ling and the richer tones
of bell-heather ; and when the autumn leaves are fading and
falling ' inland,' there may come such a day of sunshine and
glorious blue sky, with the larks singing on every side among the
golden furze-blossoms, that one is able to forget the calendar.
And then, amongst the great boulders covered with white lichen
that lie along the sides of streams, the leaves of the whortle
berries turn scarlet over the little round fruit, with its plum-like
bloom. Sometimes in winter the snow lies in patches on the hills,
among stretches of pale grass and rich, dark, red-brown masses of
heather. On the edge of the moor, the springs by the roadsides
flow through a sparkling white border into a shining ice hollow,
* W. H. Hamilton Rogers, 'Dartmoor.'
72

YES TOR : DARTMOOR

ch. iv] Dartmoor
and, looking away, one sees snow-covered heights against a pale
blue sky, in the unbroken stillness of distance. Perhaps the
moor is specially irresistible when the full moon throws its magic
over hill and valley, suggesting infinite possibilities. In the clear
air the hills look very solemn and impressive, and the long,
broken reflections of the moonbeams lie in every stream as it
ripples over rocks or breaks against boulders; while the foam
gleams and trembles as flakes are torn away by the current and
swallowed up by the black shadows. In such a time and place one
may learn the meaning of ' a silence that can be heard.'
ftf Dartmoor rises high above the surrounding country, and keeps
his white winter livery lying upon it long time, if not washed
away by rain. The air is delicious, but it must be admitted that
the moor has a very ample share of wind, rain, and mists. Fault
finders have also complained of the bogs, and occasional accidents
to travellers' horses have given the mires the significant name
of ' Dartmoor Stables,' although the moor ponies are supposed
always to be able to pick a safe path through dangerous places.
From a certain point of view, Dartmoor reminds one of the
mirror of the Lady of Shalott, for here
' Shadows of the world appear.'
Or, rather, the shadows of a past world are reflected in its wastes,
witnessing to prehistoric man ; to the tinners, who appear out of
the mists of antiquity, and who peopled the moor through the
Middle Ages ; to the dawn of Christian teaching in the country ;
and to the Normans, with their forest rights and laws. Antiquities
abound, although there are instances where it is most difficult to
decide whether the remains are prehistoric, or merely traces of
mediaeval mining. 'It is possible that "old men's workings," as the
traces of abandoned mines are called in this country, may account
for more of them than is generallyadmitted.' But modern observa
tions have severely excluded any fanciful theories. ' Certain stone
inclosureswhich have passed for British fortifications are now more
plausibly considered to have been made (at a sufficiently remote
time, we may freely allow) for the protection of cattle.' However,
73

Devon [ch. iv
after deducting any objects of doubtful antiquity, there remain an
enormous number as to which there can be no question — stone
rows, kistvaens, menhirs, large circles of upright stones, forts and
barrows, and pounds enclosing hut-circles. It is interesting to
read the views of antiquaries at different stages of the nineteenth
century, and their flat contradictions of the opinions of their pre
decessors. A good instance is given in the new edition of that
mine of information, Rowe's ' Perambulation of Dartmoor/ where
certain verdicts as to the origin of Grimspound are quoted.
' Polwhele states that it was a seat of judicature for the Cantred of
Darius ; Samuel Rowe, that it was a Belgic or Saxon camp ; Orme-
rod considered it a cattle-pound pure and simple ; Spence Bate was
convinced that it was nothing more than a habitation of tinners,
and of no great age ; while now the work of the Rev S. Baring-
Gould and Mr Robert Burnard goes far to show that its construc
tion reaches back into a remote past, and that its antiquity is
greater than any former investigator dared to assign to it.'
The great numbers of prehistoric people who lived on the
moor are very remarkable. ' Tens of thousands of their habita
tions have been destroyed,' says Mr Baring-Gould, ' yet tens of
thousands remain. At Post Bridge, within a radius of half a mile,
are fifteen pounds. If we give an average of twenty huts to a
pound, and allow for habitations scattered about, not enclosed in
a pound, and give six persons to a hut, we have at once a popula
tion, within a mile, of 2,000 persons.' Perhaps they climbed so
high because on the lower slopes the forest was thick, and wild
beasts were more to be feared, though, according to tradition, they
were certainly not free from danger on the moor ; for ' wolves and
winged serpents were no strangers to the hills or valleys.' All their
possessions that we are aware of belong to the early Bronze Age,
when flint was used in great quantities, and bronze was known,
but was rare and very valuable. The amber pommel of a dagger,
inlaid with gold pins, and part of a bronze dagger blade, were
found in a barrow on Hameldon, and a few other bronze weapons
have been discovered ; flint implements in abundance. Great num
bers of flint scrapers for cleaning the skins of animals, and small
74

LUSTLEIGH CLEAVE

ch. iv] Dartmoor
knives for ..cutting up meat, have been picked up ; arrow-heads
are scarce, and it would seem that they left very few celts or axes,
and spear-heads.
Of the exceedingly interesting remains, perhaps the most inter
esting — at any rate, to the uninitiated — is Grimspound. The
boundary wall, which is double, encloses four acres ; it is from ten
to twelve feet thick, but not above five and a half feet in height.
Within the circle are twenty-four hut-circles, and in some of them
charcoal and fragments of pottery have been found. A brook,
dipping under the walls, and passing through the enclosure,
supplied the camp with water.
Drizplecombe, near Sheep's Tor, is rich in a variety of anti
quities, for it has three stone rows, a large tumulus, a kistvaen,
and a later relic — a miner's blowing-house. One of the avenues
is two hundred and sixty feet long, and one is double for a
part of the way, and each of the three starts from a menhir, or
long stone. Near Merivale Bridge are two double stone rows, but
the stones are small. Close by are a sacred circle, a kistvaen, a
pound and hut-circles, and one cairn, besides the ruins of others
that have been destroyed. It would be absurd to pretend to enter
on such a wide subject here. Some idea of its extent may be
gathered by considering one single branch of it : Mr Baring-
Gould has stated that no fewer than fifty stone avenues have
been observed in different parts of the moor. And hut-circles
and ancient track-lines are unnumbered, although very many
antiquities of all kinds have been destroyed when granite was
wanted for rebuilding churches, or for making doorways or gate
posts, or even for mending roads.
The early antiquaries discovered the hand of the Druids in
certain unusual rock-shapes, now known to be the work of Nature
— such as rock-basins, which are developed in the granite by the
action of wind and rain ; tolmens, or holed stones ; and logans,
or rocking-stones. Granite on the moor generally weathers
irregularly, and if the lower part of a piled-up mass partly
crumbles away, a huge layer of harder granite remains balanced
on one or two points, and becomes what is called a logan-stone.
75

Devon [ch. iv
In some cases, though the slab is almost impossible to remove,
it will rock at a finger-touch. Perhaps the most striking example
on Dartmoor is the Rugglestone, near Widdecombe, which it
has been calculated weighs about one hundred and ten tons ;
but there are several in the neighbourhood, and a logan called
the Nut-Crackers is perched among the thickly scattered boulders
on Lustleigh Cleave. This lovely little valley lies on the eastern
edge of the moor, and the River Bovey flows through it. Masses
of granite crown the ridge ; lower on the hill-side is a jungle of
tall bracken, and the stream is overshadowed by a wood, crowded
with matted undergrowth and with innumerable rocks tumbled
together. Granite more consistent than that found on most of the tors —
that is, ' not broken into the usual layers of soft beds alternating
with hard layers ' — forms the great masses of rock on Hey Tor,
and these have not weathered into strange, jagged outlines
William Howitt wrote a charming description of Hey Tor in his
' Rural Life of England,' from which I quote a few lines : ' Below,
the deep dark river went sounding on its way with a melancholy
music, and as I wound up the steep road all beneath the gnarled
oaks, I ever and anon caught glimpses of the winding valley to
the left, all beautiful with wild thickets and half-shrouded faces
of rock, and still on high these glowing ruddy tors standing in
the blue air in their sublime silence. My road wound up and
up, the heather and bilberry on either hand.'
A ' wonder ' which has been associated with the Druids is the
grove of oaks called Wistman's Wood. It lies close to Two
Bridges, on the slope above the West Dart, and at a little distance
looks more like a furze-brake than a wood. All the oaks ar
dwarfs, stunted by the lack of soil and force of the winds. Mr
Rowe quotes from a ' botanical writer/ who examined some of
them : ' The bole of this tree was about three feet high, and its
total height to the topmost branches fifteen feet. The circumfer
ence of the trunk was six feet, and its prime must have been
about the date of the Norman Conquest.' Some of the boughs,
like the trunks, are immensely thick for the height of the trees, and
76

WISTMANS WOOD

ch. iv] Dartmoor
they are covered with very deep cushions of bright green moss
and hangings of polypody, and whortleberries grow upon them.
Every step between the trees is perilous, among the uneven
crowded masses of rocks and half-concealed clefts. Many of the
boulders are moss-covered, a kind of sedge and long, flag-like
grass spring among the crevices and add to the pitfalls, and the
whole wood really has the air of having been bewitched. Mrs Bray's
impressions of it are interesting. She found the slope ' strewn
all over with immense masses of granite. ... 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. . . . They spread far and wide at their
tops, and their branches twist and bend in the most tortuous
manner ; sometimes reminding one of those strange things called
mandrakes, of which there is a superstition noticed by Shake
speare — ' " Like shrieking mandrakes torn from out the earth." '
Though some of the stone circles on the moor are due to miners
rather than to prehistoric man, their antiquity may very well
win respect ; for, according to the views of the early nineteenth
century, it was quite probable that the Phoenicians were trading
with this island for tin in the year iooo B.C. ! It is unnecessary to
say that the reasoning which supports this theory is very ingenious,
and later opinions do not allow that the Phoenicians ever traded
directly with Britain at all. The metal, it is held, was brought to
the Mediterranean coast through the medium of ' the Veneti of
what is now Vannes, and the tin trade was carried through Gaul to
Marseilles.' To take a great leap from the date originally suggested,
there is certain evidence that British tin was conveyed over this
trade route in the year 40 B.C. The Romans taught the Britons
better methods of mining, and how tin might be used for household
needs. Another long interval without any mention of the subject
brings us to the reign of the Normans, when it seems that the mines
were almost entirely in the hands of the Jews. On their expulsion
by Edward I, the mines were neglected for a few years, and next a
77

Devon [ch. iv
charter was granted to several Devonshire gentlemen, at their re
quest, conferring the important privilege of holding plea of all
actions relating to the mines, ' those of lyfe, lymme, and lande ' ex
cepted. Henceforward the Devonshire miners were separated from
the Cornish, and held stannary parliaments on the top of Crockern
Tor. The summit is piled with granite, and out of the rock was
hewn ' a warden's or president's chair, seats for the jurors, and a
high corner stone for the crier of the court, and a table,' says Pol-
whele ; and here the ' hardy mountain council ' — twenty-four
burgesses from each of the stannary towns — assembled. ' 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,'
wrote Prince. It is much to be regretted that nearly all traces
of the court have now disappeared, and a report says that the
table and seats were carried away to be used for some buildings
not far off. It is said that the last parliament was held on this
tor in 1749, but for some time before that date the court merely
met on the tor, and, after the jurors had been sworn in,
adjourned to one of the stannary towns.
From the charter of Edward I onwards, mining seems to have
prospered, with one or two intervals of great depression, and as
late as 1861 seventy-four mines were being worked in Devonshire.
" Streaming ' for tin was very much practised in the Middle Ages,
and the sides of valleys all over Dartmoor are scored with the
works of the tin-streamers, who turned about the streams and
examined the beds for ' grain-tin.' Many of the ruined ' blowing-
houses ' are still to be seen on the moor. Mrs. Bray mentions a
curious testimony to the wildness and remoteness of the parts in
which some of the miners must have worked : ' A very old wood
cut . . . 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.'
It was owing to the mines that Dartmoor became a part of the
78

ch. iv] Dartmoor
Duchy, for the ' metalliferous ' moors of Dartmoor and Cornwall
had, on that account, long been Crown lands ; and therefore, when
Edward III created his eldest son Prince of Wales and Duke of
Cornwall, the Chase of Dartmoor, and the Castle and Manor of
Lydford were granted to him with the estates in Cornwall. Dart
moor has existed as a forest practically from time immemorial, and
the date when forest laws were first imposed on it is, in the opinion
of the learned, ' lost in antiquity.' The first charter affecting the
state of the moor was bestowed in 1204, when King John was
compelled reluctantly to grant a Charter of Forests, disafforesting
the lands that had been gradually appropriated by the Kings since
Henry I. Surrounding the forest proper are lands known as the
Commons of Devon, and, usually speaking, they are included in
any general reference to Dartmoor. Every parish in Devonshire,
excepting Barnstaple and Totnes, has a right to pasture cattle on
them for the payment of a small sum. Two classes of men have
special rights in the moor : owners and occupiers of tenements with
in the forest, and venville tenants, or owners of land in particular
vills, or towns, adjoining the forest. Claims and counter-claims as
to their exact rights and liabilities have been pressed in successive
centuries, but various ancient documents set forth these tenants'
rights, ' time out of mind, to take all things that might do them
good, saving green oak and venison.' These privileges include
pasturing all ' commonable beasts ' on the moor, digging turf for
fuel, stone and sand for mending houses and lands, and taking
heath for thatching, ' paying their dues and doing their suits and
services.' The ' suits and services ' involved attendance at the
Prince's Courts, and the tenants' help at the time of the bullock
and pony drifts — that is, when the herds are driven off the moor
by the moormen to a point chosen by the Duchy steward, and
are there identified by their owners.
In the Duchy records appear various well-known names that
one does not naturally associate with the Forest. The Conqueror
granted it to his half-brother, Robert, Earl of Montaigne ; King
John gave the Earldom of Cornwall to his second son, Richard
Plantagenet, afterwards King of the Romans. This Prince
79

Devon [ch. iv
' much augmented the powers of the stannaries of Devon and
Cornwall, and under his auspices they thrived exceedingly.' For
a short time the earldom was bestowed on Piers Gaveston ;
Thomas Cromwell and some others had a lease of the lead-mines
on the moor for twenty-one years ; the first Earl of Bedford was
' Custos of the Forest or Chase of Dartmoor '; and Sir Walter
Raleigh was appointed Ranger and Master Forester, besides
being Lord Warden of the Stannaries. The first perambulation
of the forest boundaries probably took place in 1224, and others
have been made at intervals ever since ; yet a long tale of
grievances from that date almost up to the present time mightbe
heard from commoners whose rights have been encroached upon.
The bounds of property owned by religious houses at certain
points were marked by granite crosses, of which a great number are
still to be found on the moor. Some of them, however, were stand
ing long before the monasteries were built. To take one instance,
the cross on Sourton Down has an inscription which, it has been
declared, belongs to the sixth century, and which can still be
deciphered when the sun is setting and the rays slant across it. The
Abbot's Way, leading over the moor, is marked by crosses. It ran
westwards from Buckfast Abbey, and divided at Broad Rock,
near Plym Head, in the middle of the moor — one branch going to
Tavistock, and the other to Buckland Abbey. The path cannot
now be traced the whole way, but the crosses show the line. Becka
moor Cross (or the Windy Post, as it is sometimes called), between
two and three miles south-east of Tavistock, is a typical Dartmoor
cross, and a fine example, but it cannot be numbered among the
very old ones, for it seems to date from the sixteenth century.
Perhaps the Dartmoor village best known by name is Widde-
combe-in-the-Moor, and its fame is spread by the song ' Widde
combe Fair;' this is the most popular of Devonshire folk-songs, and
the air served the Devon Regiment as a march in the Boer War.
But Widdecombe has more solid claims to consideration, and
one of them is the large and beautiful church, with its very fine
tower and high crocketed pinnacles, each pointed by a cross. The
roof is adorned by ' bosses, carved and painted with heads, flowers
80

K
c
o
sli
X
h

ch. iv] Dartmoor
and leaves, and also figures or marks which obscurely shadow forth
the learning of the alchemist.' The presence of these symbols is
explained by a tradition that the church was built by miners.
' On one of the bosses is the combination of three rabbits, each
with a single ear, which join In the centre, forming a triangle —
a favourite alchemical symbol, called the hunt of Venus.' Parts
of the rood-screen remain, and on the panels are painted saints and
doctors of the Church, and a king and queen. On October 21,
1638, a terrible storm raged here during service-time. First fell
' a strange darkenesse '; then a terrific thunder-clap ; ' the ratling
thereof ' was much like ' the report of many great cannons.'
' Extraordinarie lightning ' flashed, ' so flaming that the whole
church was presently filled with fire and smoke/ and a smell of
brimstone, and a great ball of fire came in at the window and
passed through the church. The church itself was much torne
and defaced, ' stones throwne from the Tower as thick as if
an hundred men had been there throwing.' Several people were
killed and many ' grievously scalded and wounded.' The history
of the storm has been told in verse, and the lines were painted
on tablets and placed in the church. Mrs Bray found ' the
wildest tales ' of the storm floating among the people in the neigh
bourhood, and, amongst them, ' 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 money to become his guide ; but she distrusted
him, in 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 boot.'
Widdecombe is called cold and bleak, and it is not only with
the terrific tempest that its name is associated, for when the
snow fell thickly the South Devon folk used to look — as perhaps
they still do — towards the moor, and say to the children :
' Widdecombe hills are picking their geese, faster, faster,
faster.' About twelve miles south-west of Widdecombe is Sheeps Tor,
a sharply defined height that has given its name to the parish
81 F

Devon [ch. iv
and tiny village that it overshadows. Originally it was called
Shettes Tor — that is, Steep Tor, the word being derived from the
Celtic syth.
Hidden among the great piles of moor-stone heaped upon the
tor is a cave known as the Pixies' House. Mrs Bray describes an
expedition that she made to Sheeps Tor, and how, on asking her
way to the cave, she was told to ' be careful to leave a pin, or
something of equal value, as an offering to these invisible beings ;
otherwise they would not fail to torment us in our sleep.' Grass
grows on the lower slopes, but near the summit there spreads a
' bold and shelving sweep of about two hundred feet, the granite
. . . totally bare, save where it was here and there covered by a
coating of mosses and lichens. It lies tossed about in enormous
masses in every direction.' The cave itself is in the midst of ' most
confused masses of rock, that looked as if they had been tossed
about by the fiends in battle,' and the entrance itself is a ' cleft
between two rocks.' A story of human interest is also connected
with the cave, for here Walter Elford, Lord of the Manor, was
forced to hide when the country was being searched for him.
Squire Elford was a Parliamentarian, and one of the ' secluded '
members of the Long Parliament ; but he was so far thrown into
opposition by the development of the Protector's policy that he
reached the point of plotting against him, and in consequence
a party of Desborough's troops were sent in pursuit of the squire
to his own house. Fortunately, among the huge boulders the
entrance to the cave was very difficult to find, and the Pixies'
House proved a saferefuge until the search-parties were withdrawn.
About fifteen miles from Widdecombe, on the north-west side of
the moor, lies Lydford, whose size is in no way proportionate to
its antiquity. ' Doubtless,' says Risdon, ' in the Saxons' hept
archy, it was a town of some note, that felt the furious rage of the
merciless Danes.' And it is true that in 997 Lydford was burned
down by them. At this time Lydford had its own mint, and money
was coined here ; and in the Domesday Book it was described
as being taxed equally with London. But the village is very con
spicuously a victim of ' the whirligig of time/ and William Browne
82

SHEEPSTOR

ch. iv] Dartmoor
gives a most unflattering picture of its appearance in the middle
of the seventeenth century :
' I oft have heard of Lydford law,
How in the morn they hang and draw,
And sit in judgment after :
At first I wondered at it much ;
But soon I found the matter such
As it deserves no laughter.
' They have a castle oh a hill ;
I took it for some old windmill,
The vanes blown off by weather.
Than lie therein one night 'tis guessed
'Twere better to be stoned, or pressed,
Or hanged, ere you come hither.

' Near these poor men that lie in lurch,
See a dire bridge, a little church.
Seven ashes and one oak ;
Three houses standing, and ten down ;
They say the rector hath a gown,
But I saw ne'er a cloak :

' This town's enclosed with desert moors,
But where no bear nor lion roars,
And nought can live but hogs :
For, all o'erturned by Noah's flood,
Of fourscore miles scarce one foot's good,
And hills are wholly bogs.'
The Castle is not very large, and is now utterly in ruins, though
the walls of the square keep are still standing. In Browne's day it
was used as the stannary prison, and was denounced in an Act of
Parliament as ' one of the most heinous, contagious, and detest
able places in the realm.' For many years after this Lydford
was a lonely village, generally ignored, in spite of its fine air and
beautiful scenery. Towards the moor it looks up to an irregular
barrier (about a mile or so distant) of very picturesque tors, and
in the opposite direction a fertile and pleasant country spreads
83 f 2

Devon [ch. iv
beneath it. The River Lyd winds through scenes that are always
delightful and sometimes very striking, but the cascade has been
so much praised that, if seen in summer, it is apt to be disappoint
ing. Lydford Gorge, however, is properly placed among the ' won
ders ' of Devonshire — to use Fuller's expression. The gorge is deep
and exceedingly narrow, and the sides are precipitous. The river,
rushing between blocks of stone, flows so far below the road that
from the bridge, where the chasm is only a few yards wide, it is
almost invisible. Risdon says : ' It maketh such a hideous noise,
that being only heard, and not seen, it causeth a kind of fear to
the passengers, seeming to them that look down to it, a deep
abyss.' A story (that may quite easily be true) is told of a man
arriving late one night in Lydford from Tavistock, to the
amazement of Lydford people, who knew that their bridge
had been broken down. In the darkness the traveller had
noticed ' nothing more than that his horse had made a sudden
spring ; but on being afterwards led to the chasm he was
struck with a mingled sensation of horror, surprise, and
thankfulness.' From an historical point of view, it is ludicrous to think of Lyd
ford and Princetown, its neighbour (as one counts neighbours
on a moor) — Lydford, in all its glory nearly a hundred years
before the Conquest, and Princetown, created by the Prince
Regent. It is, I believe, the highest village in England, and in
walking up to it there comes a feeling that this is rather like
walking up a gigantic snail-shell, and that, when one reaches the
top, it is the very top and end of all things. A tranquillity reigns
over the tiny town which even the occasional sight of warders
with their loaded rifles does not break ; and the workaday world
seems to have been left far below.
But the desolate moor as seen from this point, the bleak winds,
and very frequent rain, brought cold comfort to the French
prisoners of war, on whose account the prison was built. Their
views are probably reflected in a gloomy description of Princetown,
traducing the climate, which was given by a French writer, quoted
by Mr R. J. King. ' For seven months in the year/ says a
84

LYDFORD BRIDGE

ch. iv] Dartmoor
M. Catel, ' it is a vraie Sibene, covered with unmelting snow.
When the snows go away, the mists appear.'
The lot of the French prisoners, however, was tempered by certain
alleviations, anp very many of them were allowed to live on parole
in specified towns, most of which are near the moor. In 1813 a large
number of American prisoners of war were added to the eight
thousand French at Princetown, but for some reason were not at
first allowed the same privileges. This may help to account for the
aggrieved tone in which one of them refers to his French fellow-
prisoners, as well as to the British. Andrews wrote a journal which
was afterwards published. ' The Seigneurs/ he says, ' received
remittances from their friends or had money of their own, and were
able to support themselves in a genteel manner.' They were
allowed to have plays with a stage and scenery once a month, and
also ' had their schools for teaching the arts and sciences, dancing,
fencing, and fiddling.' He criticises them severely: ' They drink,
sing and dance,' and, with a fine allusion to emphasise his point,
declares : ' But the Americans have not that careless volatility,
like the cockle in the fable, to sing and dance when the house is on
fire over them.' The French were released after the abdication of
Napoleon ; a year later, peace was signed between England and
America, and then, till 1850, the buildings were unoccupied. In
that year the decision was made that they should be used as a
convict prison, and as a result, one must agree with Sir Frederick
Pollock, it 'is the ugliest thing physically and morally on the
moor.' It is pleasanter to turn back to the moor itself — to topics less
out of character with it. Foremost appear stories of magic, black
and white, ancient beliefs and legends without end. Mr King,
whose knowledge of the country was at once vast and minute, is
quoted as having said ' that he believed almost every form of
superstition or superstitious observances condemned in the Peni
tential of Bartholomew, Bishop of Exeter, 1161-1184, might be
found sheltering itself under the Dartmoor Tors.' (This remark
must have been made about the middle of the nineteenth century.)
' The same wild creed has been handed down from generation to
85

Devon [ch. iv
generation ; the same spots on the lonely moor, and the same
gloomy pools in the river, that were shunned by his forefathers,
are avoided as " critical " (to use his own word) by the Devonshire
peasant now . . . and whoever may find himself in the heart of its
lonely wastes when daylight is closing, and the air seems to fill
with ' " Undescribed sounds
That come a-swooning over hollow ground,
And wither drearily on barren moors,"
will scarcely wonder that the spirits of the elder world should not
yet have been effectually dislodged from their ancient solitudes.
. . . The Pixies, thoroughly mischievous elves, who delight to lead
all wanderers astray, dwell in the clefts of broken granite, and
dance on the green sward by the side of the hill streams; . . . some
times, but very rarely, they are seen dancing by the streams
dressed in green, the true livery of the small people. They ride
horses at night, and tangle their manes into inextricable knots.
They may be heard pounding their cider and threshing their
wheat far within the recesses of their " house " on Sheepstor — a
cavern formed by overhanging blocks of granite. Deep river pools
and deceitful morasses, over which the cotton grass flutters its
white tassels, are thought to be the " gates " of their country,
where they possess diminutive flocks and herds of their own.
Malicious, yet hardly demoniacal, they are precisely Dryden's
" spirits of a middle sort " —
' " Too black for heaven, and yet too white for hell,
Who just dropped half-way down, nor lower fell "
— a character which cannot, however, be assigned to their un
earthly companions, the wish-hounds. These have no redeeming
tinge of white, and belong to the gloomiest portion of the under
world.' A true lover of the moor, and very sensitive to its element of
mystery, Mr King has put what he has seen and imagined into
verse that must be most appreciated by those who know the
Forest best : 86

ch. iv] Dartmoor
THE FOREST OF THE DARTMOORS.
The purple heather flowers are dark
In the hollow of the hill,
Though far along each rocky peak
The sunlight lingers still ;
Dark hang the rushes o'er the stream —
There is no sound below,
Save when the fern, by the night's wind stirred,
Waves gently to and fro.
Thou old wild forest ! many a dream
Of far-off glamoury,
Of gentle knight and solemn sage,
Is resting still on thee.
Still float the mists across the fells,
As when those barons bold,
Sir Tristram and Sir Percival,
Sped o'er the weary wold.
*****
Then through the glens of the folding hills,
And over the heath so brown,
King Arthur leads his belted knights
Homewards to Carlyoun ;
A goodly band, with long white spears,
Upon their shoulders set,
And first of all that Flower of Kings
With his golden coronet.
And sometimes, by the clear hill streams,
A knight rides on alone ;
He rideth ever beside the river,
Although the day be done ;
For he looketh toward the western land
Where watcheth his ladye,
On the shore of the rocky Cornewayle,
In the castle by the sea.
*****
And now thy rocks are silent all.
The kingly chase is o'er.
Yet none may take from thee, old land.
Thy memories of yore.
In many a green and solemn place.
Girt with the wild hills round.
The shadow of the holy cross
Yet sleepeth on the ground.
87

Devon [ch.

iv

In many a glen where the ash keys hang
All golden 'midst their leaves,
The knights' dark strength is rising yet,
Clad in its wild-flower wreaths.
And yet along the mountain-paths
Rides forth that stately band,
A vision of the dim old days —
A dream of fairyland.
' It is the wide extent of these solitary wastes which makes them
so impressive, and gives them their influence over the imagina
tion. Whether seen at mid-day, when the gleams of sunlight are
chasing one another along the hill-side ; or at sunset, when the
long line of dusky moorland lifts itself against the fading Ught of
the western sky, the same character of extent and freedom is im
pressed on the landscape, which carries the fancy from hill to hill,
and from valley to valley, and leads it to imagine other scenes, of
equal wildness, which the distant hills conceal
' " Beyond their utmost purple rim." '
Perhaps the scenery of Dartmoor is never more impressive
than under those evening effects which have last been suggested.
The singular shapes assumed by the granite cappings of the tors
are strongly projected against the red light of the sunset, which
gleams between the many openings in the huge piles of rock,
making them look like passages into some unknown country be
yond them, and suggesting that idea of infinity which is afforded
by no other object of sight in equal degree. Meanwhile, the
heather of the foreground is growing darker and darker ; and the
only sound which falls upon the ear is that of the river far below,
or perhaps the flapping of some heron's wings, as he rises from his
rock in the stream and disappears westward —
' Where, darkly painted on the blood-red sky,
His figure floats along.'

88

CHAPTER V
The Teign
' Ting (whose banks were blest
By her beloved nymph dear Leman) which addrest.
And fully with herself determined before
To sing the Danish spoils committed on her shore,
When hither from the east they came in mighty swarms,
Nor could their native earth contain their numerous arms,
Their surcrease grew so great, as forced them at last
To seek another soil, as bees do when they cast ;
And by their impious pride how hard she was bested,
When all the country swam with blood of Saxons shed.'
Drayton ; Poly-olbion.
THE Teign rises, as do most of the rivers in Devon, on
Dartmoor, and starts across the moorlands towards the
north. After a few miles it is joined by the Wallabrook,
and at that point turns eastwards.
The moorland country about it is very beautiful, but especially
when the heather and furze are in flower together, and far and
wide stretches a most royal display of rose-purple and gold.
Ferns hang over the transparent brown water, with its glancing
lights, and tiny ferns and polypodys peer out from the crannies
and hollows of big grey boulders. Here and there bushy willows
grow along the edge, or a mountain-ash shows its feathery, deep
green foliage and clusters of scarlet berries. A clapper bridge —
that is, a bridge formed out of a single slab of granite — over twelve
feet long lies across the Wallabrook near the meeting of the
streams. Beside it grows a mountain-ash, and the quivering and
wavering leaves, and their shadows that quiver and waver in the
ripples beneath, make a profound contrast to that massive, im
movable stone, that from its look may certainly be included among
those Dartmoor antiquities which Sir Frederick Pollock says
' may very well have been as great a mystery to the contem
poraries of Julius Caesar as they are to ourselves.' Modern opinion,
89

Devon [ch. v
however, denies that these bridges on the moor are of a very
great age. Close by on the north stands Scorhill Circle, one of
those stone circles over the history of which antiquaries still differ.
A little farther down, on the north bank, is a tolmen, and
there is a tradition that to creep through the hole brings luck.
The rock has, of course, been associated with the Druids and
their rites, but the hole is really a natural one.
About three miles farther down the river one arrives at Chagford,
and perhaps the two things that a stranger will first notice
about this little town are, that the air is very exhilarating and
the people particularly courteous. For the rest, though not
echoing Lord Clarendon's remark, that, but for the calamity of
Sidney Godolphin's death, it is ' a place which could never
otherwise have had a mention in this world,' one must admit
that it is not very remarkable. The moment when Chagford
came most violently into contact with public affairs was that
mentioned by Lord Clarendon, and most heartily must the in
habitants have wished themselves back in their usual peaceful
solitude. Sir John Berkeley, at that time, ' with a good party,
volant, of horse and dragoons,' was desceningd in ' all places in the
surrounding country where Parliamentarians were known to be
assembled, " dissolving " them, and taking many prisoners.' Of
one of these ' necessary and brisk expeditions ' Chagford was the
goal, and arriving very early in the morning, still in the dark,
they fell upon it before day. The chilly January dawn broke
over a much-discomforted town, ringing with shots, the trampling
of horses, and the clash of steel, but the Royalist troops were
sturdily resisted, and Godolphin was slain, it is said, in the porch
of the Three Crowns Inn. Clarendon writes of him : ' There
was never so great a mind and spirit contained in so little room ;'
and in his account of the skirmish he says : ' As his advice was
of great authority with all the commanders ... so he exposed his
person to all action, travel, and hazard ; and by too forward
engaging himself in this last received a mortal shot by a musket,
a little above the knee, of which he died in the instant.' Sidney
Godolphin, it will be remembered, was one of the celebrated ' four
90

FINGLE BRIDGE

ch. v] The Teign
wheels of Charles's Wain, all Devonshire and Cornish men, and
all slain at or near the same place, the same time, and in the same
cause . . . ' " Th' four wheels of Charles's wain,
Grenvill, Godolphin, Trevanion, Slanning slain." '
In early days Chagford was one of the four Stannary towns,
the others being Ashburton, Tavistock, and Plympton. Risdon
mentions that ' This place is priviledged with many immunities
which tinners enjoy ; and here is holden one of the courts for
Stannary causes.'
The river flows from Chagford in a north-easterly direction
till Drewsteignton stands due north, when it turns to the east.
Drewsteignton is a large village, and has a granite church, the
tower of which is Decorated, and the nave Perpendicular. In
this parish was the barton of Drascombe, and in the reign of
Edward I, Walter de Bromehall held it ' by the sergeanty of
finding our Lord the King, whensoever he should hunt in the
forest of Dartmoor, one bow and three barbed arrows. And it was
let at five shillings a year rent.' One would imagine that King
Edward I can seldom have found time to amuse himself so far
west, and the tenant would not find the conditions a heavy tax.
The scenery by the river is very fine all about here, and Fingle
Gorge is generally considered to be the most beautiful of the
many beautiful glens through which the Teign passes. It is a
deep ravine with high and steep sides, that are thickly wooded and
broken by great boulders. At Fingle Bridge four winding valleys
meet; that is, the combe down which the river sweeps from above
curves one way, and the narrow opening into which it disappears
twists sharply round in another. A cleft, half hidden in trees,
divides the line of hills that shut in the tiny valley-meadow on the
west, and a road and a small stream scramble down a less severe
descent between the high sides, from the north-east. But from no
point near the bridge would it be more possible to see far up any
cleeve.than it would be for a ladybird, perched at one end, to trace
all the lines of a stag's horn. If in one direction there was a gentle
slope and smiling prospect beyond, the peculiar effect would be
9i

Devon [ch. v
gone. There is a stillness, and almost a solemnity, in this little
opening closed in narrowly on every side by the steep hills rising
straight above it on every side, and looking as unchanging as if what
they are to-day, that they have been since the beginning of time.
Besides, there is a feeling of wildness and remoteness which cannot
be exactly accounted for by the scenery. A living writer has said
that there is that, in a beautiful landscape in a country inhabited
from prehistoric time, that there is not in an equally lovely scene
in a new country. Though no tangible marks of the presence of
men may be left, there is an intangible something that makes itself
felt though it cannot be defined, and the view is on that account
the more interesting, and makes a deeper appeal to the spectator.
In Fingle Gorge, actual though not conspicuous traces of the
Britons are easily found. Immediately above a precipitous
ascent to the north are the remains of an old camp, which anti
quaries have decided was British. On the opposite height is
another camp, called Cranbrook Castle. ' This camp is of
irregular form, circular towards the north-east and south-east,
but almost square on other quarters. On its south side it has a
high rampart and a deep ditch. On its northern side, the steep
ness of the hill formed the only defence,' It has been supposed
that at this narrow pass the last struggle the Damnonians made
against the Romans took place ; but whether this were the case
or not, the holders of the camp possessed a supreme coign of
vantage, and could have chosen no better place for checking an
enemy's advance.
As the crow flies, Moreton Hampstead is about three miles south
of Fingle Gorge, but the roads are rambling. The name was
originally Moor-Town, standing as it once did on the edge of the
moor ; and the manor, like the barton of Drascombe, was held
on a curious tenure. ' Which manor was the Earls of Ulster in
King Edward the first's age, who held it of the king for one
sparrow-hawke yearly to be yielded.' Moreton is a small place,
and in these days perhaps its most marked characteristic is the
Dancing Tree, or Cross Tree, as it is sometimes called, for it has
grown out of the steps that encircled the now broken village
92

ch. v] The Teign
cross. This tree, an elm, was pollarded, and the branches so
trained that it was possible to lay a dancing floor between them
when it was wanted ; the floor was then railed round, and a ladder
placed to lead up to it. Mr Baring-Gould, in his ' Book of the
West/ quotes some most interesting references to the tree from
a journal kept by an old gentleman living at Moreton Hamp
stead, in the beginning of the nineteenth century :
' June 4th, 1800. — His Majesty's birthday. Every mark of
loyalty was shown. In the afternoon a concert of instrumental
music was held on the Cross Tree. . . .
' August 19th, 1807. — This night the French officers assembled
in the Cross Tree with their band of music. They performed
several airs with great taste.'
The ' French officers ' were prisoners of war, staying on parole
at Moreton Hampstead.
' Unfortunately, and to the great regret of the inhabitants of
Moreton, the tree was wrecked by a gale on October 1, 1891/
About a mile to the north of Fingle stands Great Fulford, an
estate mentioned in the Domesday Book, which belongs to the
Fulford family. They have owned it continuously since the
reign of Richard I. Many members of the family have dis
tinguished themselves, but the most picturesque figure is that
of Sir Baldwin, who was ' of so undaunted resolution,' says Prince,
' that, for the honor and liberty of a royal lady in a castle besieged
by infidels, he fought a combat with a Sarazen ; for bulk and
bigness an unequal match (as the representation of him cut in
the wainscot at Fulford-hall doth plainly show) ; whom yet he
vanquished and "rescued the lady.' Sir Baldwin's name must
have been woven in many a romance and ballad in later
days. During the Civil War, Great Fulford was garrisoned for the
King, but was eventually forced to surrender to Fairfax.
Leaving the river and walking north-east, the wayfarer will
come in time to the parish of Whitstone, rather more than three
miles from Exeter. The church has several interesting features.
From the south transept a hagioscope slants through the
93

Devon [ch. v
wall to the chancel ; and in one of the windows of the north aisle
is a bit of very old, though not very beautiful, stained glass.
A gallery at the west end bears a series of panels emblazoned
with coats of arms. In the chancel is some Jacobean carving,
and behind the altar there starrd a double row of carved eagles,
most of them drooping their heads to one side. Close to the
church is a huge tithe barn, the date of which appears to be
between 1450 and 1500. In a little entry-way joining the Rectory
lie the old stocks, opposite carved panels, and the wood of which
is so old that it has almost lost its grain.
In the early part of the nineteenth century, the rector of the
parish, the Rev. Charles Brown, collected a large amount of
varied information concerning the parish into a manuscript
volume, and from this record the present rector has most kindly
allowed me to make some extracts. Mr Brown begins by ex
plaining the meaning of the name, derived from the Celtic Wad,
a hill or ridge, which became in time Whit, and don, land —
Whitstone, the hill land. Whitstone certainly deserves the name,
as it is high, looking towards Dartmoor, but the Celtic form is
more correctly kept by a hill in the parish, which is still called
Wadaldon, or more commonly Waddlesdown.
Against the entries of burials in the parish register Mr Brown
made biographical notes, pithy, and quite free from that too
flattering note often sounded in epitaphs. Here are some
examples :
' William Speare, D.D., buried 1812. ... He formed a Paddock
of 120 acres [of land left him in this parish]. His penuriousness
was as remarkable as his taste. Often I have seen him in Exeter,
whither he rode every day, with one spur only, and that tied to
his boot with string.
' 1814. — James Hammett, 39, was before he came to reside in
Whitstone, a follower of Joanna Southcott, from whom he pur
chased for half a crown a piece of parchment, which was to
entitle him to free admission into Heaven.
' 1820. — James Sutton, 82, was for many years Sexton of the
Parish, was buried according to his request near the Rectory
94

ch. v] The Teign
Granary. He said that the Rector had been very kind to him ;
he would lie as near as possible to his house.
' 1829. — Ann Hexter, School-mistress at home and Mistress of
the Sunday School many years. Was for twenty years occa
sionally insane, and at last never free from lunacy.
' 1832. — William Earls — poor — humble — honest — was made
happy by my present of what he called " Multiplying Glasses."
' Thomas Lake, 85, said he had never taken medicine and
would not begin at 85.
' 1833. — John Coven, my carpenter, 26 years, never defrauded
his employers of a minute's work ; but his obstinacy was equal
to his honesty. He spent all his gains, openly declaring that the
Parish should maintain him when he could no longer work. At
his death he had received £60, but he gave up to the Overseers
a legacy of £30.
' 1834. — John How, 73. Having a pension of 4.0 a week, as
Serj. of Marines, once refused a shill. from me, saying he did not
want it/
The notes include a compressed but lurid tale :
' 1835. — Thomas Snowden, 54. He died the day his son was
christened, of apoplexy.' The curate, W. Ley, had been present
at a festive christening dinner, and had left Mr Snowden still
entertaining a fellow guest. The seizure took place while they
were alone. ' Mrs S. sent for Ley, and, taking him into the
room, said : " That's the man who has just killed my husband."
That man she afterwards married.'
Some interesting memoranda from the overseers and church
wardens give a glimpse of hard days in the past. In 1811
an entry shows the churchwardens making an effort to relieve
the acute distress caused by the high price of food. Wages
were particularly low, and a succession of bad harvests raised
the price of wheat to famine price, whilst the war with
Napoleon prevented any grain coming into the country, from
France or America. So we find rice and barley sold to poor
parishioners cheaper than they could have bought it for them
selves. 95

Devon [ch. v
' Account of Barley bought for the use of the Poor.
April and May, 105 Bushels at 13d. per Bush. ; June,
135 at nd. ; August, 20 at 9s. 6d.
Sold at 8d. per Bush  loss £57 11 2\
Four Hogs. 12 Rice cost . . . . 8 15 9
Sold for . . . . 6 0 5£
Loss . . . . 2 15 z\ '
In 1796 there is a cryptic entry :
' Paid for a man for the Navy . . £11 13 0/
Nothing more, though a few words in reference to the matter
would be very welcome. Possibly the best explanation is, that
at a time when men were being impressed for the navy on every
hand, and the Government was making immense efforts to get men
and money, the parish provided the bounty-money for a man1
perhaps a parishioner, who had just joined with or without his
good-will. But this is insecure ground, and the meaning can but
be guessed at. In 1807 there is a very different, but also unusual,
item :
' Mr. Sowden's huntsman for killing a fox, . . 3s. 4d.'
To return to Mr Brown's ' Record,' the memoranda are
followed by a long and very interesting list of ' Parochial Super
stitions,' some of which, but not all, are generally known. He
also tells one or two stories with a caustic touch where he might
have suggested a supernatural atmosphere.
' " The Parsonage is haunted." This has been asserted for
100 years, at least. It is still asserted, and proved too by
the following story, invented by Jacob Wright, a lively servant of
mine in 1814. " ' Jacob,' said my master, ' come into my room.
I am going to lay the ghost — don't be frightened.' Well, we went
in, and frightened enough I was when I saw the ghost fly out of
the window with Master's hat and wig." '
If only Mr Brown had had enough imagination to omit the word
' invented ' ! His eyes must have twinkled again while he was
enjoying the following speech : ' It is reported that a calf with
two heads has been seen in Hare Lane. Hannah Splatt says :
96

ch. v] The Teign
" Though I have walked about as a nurse at all hours, I never
saw anything more frightful than myself." ' The italics in both
cases are his. Superstitions are followed by a long list of words
that strike him (who must have come from ' up the country ')
as peculiar, though many of them are commonly used to-day. And
he makes one delightful quotation. In mentioning the fact that
Devonshire people say ' to ' where others say ' at ' — for instance,
' working to blacksmith's,' or ' living to Exeter ' — he writes :
' Dr Atterbury used to say that if he had been Bishop of Exeter,
the Devonshire folks would have called him Dr To Terbury.'
Rejoining the Teign, one descends a valley very beautiful, but
less striking than Fingle Gorge, the sides wider apart and less
high, but thickly wooded. It is especially lovely in late March
or early April, when the woodbine wreaths give an earnest of
what the spring's full touch will bring, and buds are bursting
and tiny quilled leaves showing on the hazels scattered among
the oaks that form the chief substance of the coppices. Near
Dunsford lies a sea of blue-green daffodil spears, with the pale gold
flowers showing among them. These flowers push up among the
rustling brown leaves, under interlacing branches overhead, but
at a turn of the river a large flat meadow spreads out before one,
and here the daffodils indeed ' dance ' in their myriads. Just
beyond is the bridge below Dunsford, and here are several tiny
islands, each about large enough to hold a sapling and a tangle
of overflowing green that trails into the water ; and rushing by
on each side, after falling over a little weir, the river dashes itself
into a line of foam and races on under the archway.
Some miles down the valley and east of the river is Doddis-
combsleigh, whose chief feature is its church. The chancel is
early Decorated, the nave and north aisle Perpendicular, and in
the windows of this aisle, and more especially in the east window,
is some good stained glass — a rarity in the churches in this neigh
bourhood. The subject, a rather uncommon one in England, is
the Seven Sacraments, and, as the old glass was no longer intact,
the window has been lately restored.
Farther south, and on the other side of the river, is Christow,
97 G

Devon [ch. v
with its granite Perpendicular church. In the porch is a tribute
to long service — a stone to
Nicholas Bussell, 46 years dark
Heere dyed xix Feb. 1631.
Tradition says that the stone marks the actual spot where he
died, and the wording of the epitaph favours the idea. It may
be that he went to church in a very feeble state, perhaps thinking
that neither parson nor congregation could get on without him,
and with a supreme effort crowned his many years of service.
The valley has a solitary look, as if it were very remote from
hurry or turmoil, with the green, silent hills rising high towards
Haldon's moorlands on one side, and to Dartmoor on the other.
But when the tides of the Civil War surged backward and forward,
the valley of the Teign had its full share of trouble. Those who
lived there were too near Exeter for their peace and comfort, and
must have been repeatedly harassed by the troops of one side or
the other while they were clattering to or from the city, or
quartered in the villages near, and the commotion must have been
especially trying when Fairfax was beginning the siege of Exeter
by hemming in the city with his outposts.
Canonteign House was garrisoned for the King, and was con
sidered ' a strong fort ' ; but at the end of the year 1645, when
the Royalist cause was lost, it was taken by a body of troops
from the regiment of Colonel Okey, who after the Restoration
was executed as one of the Regicides. A short account of the
affair is given in 'Anglia Rediviva': 'Information being given
that the house of one Mr Davis at Canonteen (being within four
miles of Exeter) stood convenient for a garrison, and might
bear a useful proportion towards the blocking up of Exeter,
hindering of provision from the Southams, some more of Colonel
Okey's dragoons were ordered thither to possess the same, who
accordingly went and fulfilled their orders, December 21, and
were no longer in the house ; but Monday, December 22, in the
morning, the enemy sent a force against it, who stormed the
house, burnt the out-houses ; yet Captain Woggan, who com
manded the dragoons, behaved himself so gallantly that he beat
98

ch. v] The Teign
the enemy off, killed four, desperately wounded a lieutenant-
colonel, and took divers prisoners.'
The manor of Canonteign was bought by the first Lord
Exmouth, who built a new Canonteign House near the old one.
In Christow Church is a memorial of the great Admiral — the flag
flown by his ship during the battle of Algiers. A broadside
ballad commemorating that splendid fight has a fine disregard for
the more pedantic rules of making verse, and the metre is a good
example of what is called ' rugged '; but those who are superior
to such details will appreciate the directness and air of enjoy
ment that are very appropriate to the song of a gallant sailor :
THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS.
' Come, all you Britons, stout and bold, that love your native land.
Rejoicing in your victory, Lord Exmouth gave command.
Lord Exmouth will your rights maintain, as you shall plainly see.
How we all fought like lions bold, to set the Christians free.
Chorus.
' You British tars, be steady, and maintain your glorious name ;
You will ever find Lord Exmouth to lead you into fame.
' On the 17th July in Plymouth Sound we lay.
Lord Exmouth made a signal our anchor for to weigh ;
We exercis'd our great guns, believe me what I say,
That we might do the best we could on that glorious day.
' When we came to Gibraltar, for three days there we lay,
Our cabins there we all knock'd down, our decks we cleared away,
That nothing in our way might be, for we their batteries saw,
Prepar'd to send their burning shot upon our decks below.'
Here follows a detailed account of the order of the ships going
into battle and of the fight itself, finishing with : fc
' And there's one thing more I relate, which is to be admir'd,
At five o'clock that afternoon we set their ships on fire.
Our rocket-ships and fire-ships so well their parts did play.
The Algerines from their batteries were forc'd to run away.
' Now this glorious action's over, and Christians are set free,
The Algerines are bound down— there's here no slavery ;
But if they break their terms of peace, Lord Exmouth doth declare
If he should visit them again, not one of them he spare.'
99 G 2

Devon [ch. v
Chudleigh stands a little above, and to the east of the river.
From very early times it has been specially connected with the
bishops of Exeter, for Bishop Osbert built a palace here about
1080. In the third year of Richard IPs reign the palace was
fortified under a licence to Bishop Brantyngham, but now only
a very few fragments of it are still to be seen. The manor of
Chudleigh was bound to provide twelve woodcock for the bishop's
table on the day of his election, but should they be unobtainable,
twelve pence was considered a just equivalent ! In 1547 Bishop
Vesey alienated ' the manor, town, palace, and limekiln,' and
rather more than a hundred years later it came into the possession
of Lord Clifford. The present Lord Clifford is lord of the manor.
At the beginning of the fourteenth century there was a lively
trade in woollen goods, which were made here in considerable
quantities, and this industry was carried on with varying pros
perity through several centuries. In the reign of James I the trade
was particularly flourishing, and, though gradually lessening, it
was in existence till the end of the reign of George II.
The people of Chudleigh are said to have been careful to favour
neither side in the Civil War — a small and defenceless town,
swept through by each party in turn, could hardly take any
other course. In January, 1646, while Exeter was still holding
out against the Parliament, Fairfax and his army were quartered
here. The surrounding country is very pretty, and Chudleigh
Rock and Chudleigh Glen are particularly delightful. The Rock
is of blue limestone, and a deep cavern runs far into it, once
supposed to be haunted by the pixies. It is still called the
' Pixies' Parlour.' A stream runs through the Glen, and joins
the Teign just below the town.
Near Chudleigh is Ugbrooke Park, which, with its hills and
valleys, streams, lakes, trees, and deer, has all that is wanted to
make a park beautiful. ' Fair Rosamond ' is so well known by
that title alone that it is sometimes forgotten that she was a
De Clifford. In her lifetime, their principal estate was in
Herefordshire, but later the heiress of Ugbrooke brought this
property by marriage to Antony Clifford.
100

CHUDLEIGH GLEN

ch. v] The Teign
Perhaps themember of the family who played the most important
part in history is Sir Thomas Clifford, afterwards the Lord Clifford
whose initial is the first of the five that together spell ' Cabal.'
In its early days, he was the leading spirit of that famous council.
One branch of the Cliffords had settled in Holland, and it was
probably in staying there with his relations that Sir Thomas had
been brought to the notice of Charles II and first gained his
influence over him. Lord Macaulay is not complimentary in his
references to any member of the Cabal, but such commendations
as he has to give are bestowed on Clifford. Sir Thomas, he says,
' had greatly distinguished himself in the House of Commons.
Of the members of the Cabal, he was the most respectable. For,
with a fiery, imperious temper, he had a strong though a lament
ably perverted sense of duty and honour.' Farther on he adds
that Clifford ' alone of the five had any claim to be regarded
as an honest man.' Sir Thomas started a scheme which was
practically the origin of the National Debt. Several states
men who enjoyed the King's favour greatly desired the Lord
Treasurer's office, and here Charles displayed his usual astute
ness ; for, being, as always, in want of money, he said to them
that the man who should be Lord Treasurer was the man who
could show him a way of putting money into the Treasury. The
plan that Sir Thomas proposed to the King, and which was
put into execution, Lord Clifford has most kindly sketched out
as follows : ' The first Lord Clifford of Chudleigh was made Lord
Treasurer by Charles II, and recommended the King to seize the
money deposited in the Exchequer and secured by the allocation
of various revenues. These loans had always up to this been
faithfully met. By seizing this money, nominally only for a year,
he acquired the sum of £1,300,000 at 6 per cent. At the succession
of William and Mary the Public Debt was £664,263, and this was
probably part of the money so seized ; but it was not till
5 William and Mary, c. 20, that the authority of Parliament was
given for a loan to be raised by the then created Bank of England,
from which, period usually dates the National Debt. Evelyn
ascribes the inception of this idea to Ashley Shaftesbury, who,
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Devon [ch. v
foreseeing its illegality, and possibly its disastrous results (for
many persons were ruined), left it to Clifford to propose it to the
King. He gave 6 per cent, interest. When the Bank of England
loan was raised (5 W. and M.) the interest was 8 per cent.'
There is a fine picture of the Lord High Treasurer, by Sir Peter
Lely, at Ugbrooke, of which two replicas hang, one in the Treasury,
and the other at Ham House, which belonged to the Duke of
Lauderdale, who was the L of the Cabal. Lord Clifford is wearing
a crimson robe, under a magnificent flowing mantle of ermine,
and in his right hand is the white wand of office. His face shows
shrewdness and determination, and a certain geniality, which
suggests that, though on occasion he might not have scrupled to
act as an oppressor, yet he would always have liked to do so as
pleasantly as possible.
A remnant of former friendship was shown seven years after
the Cabal was dissolved. In December, 1680, when the country
was still seething against Popery, a Bill was brought before the
House of Lords which provided, amongst other things, that all
Papists of influence should be removed from their own estates
to a far distant county. Lists of the gentlemen ' selected '
in each county were made out (and have been reprinted
among the manuscripts of the House of Lords), and after the
last list is written : ' In addition to the above Lists, there was
one for Devonshire, which appears to have been given to Earl
Shaftesbury . . . but which is not forthcoming.' A subsequent
collection of the names of those ' selected ' in this county follows
this statement, but Lord Clifford's name does not appear among
them ; therefore Lord Shaftesbury's reason for ' mislaying ' this
one list is supposed to be that he had suppressed in it the name
of his former friend's son ; and no second formal list for Devon
shire seems to have been made. The Bill never became law.
At Newton Abbot the river reaches its most southerly point
and again turns east. Lysons says that its ' market and fair were
spoken of in the reign of Edward I ;' but there are not many old
buildings, and those that there are seem completely swamped by
numerous modern ones. The parish church, to the south of the
102

TEIGNMOUTH AND SHALDON

ch. v] The Teign
town, contains much that is most interesting ; and Forde House,
a fine Jacobean building, welcomed under its roof Charles I on
two occasions, and, having changed owners meanwhile, greeted
William of Orange, when, thirty-three years later, he was on his
way from Torbay.
Along the northern bank of the estuary lie the two villages of
Kingsteignton and Bishopsteignton, the manor of the first being
part of the ancient demesnes of the Crown, as that of the second
was of the See of Exeter. At the Kingsteignton ' revel ' a curious
custom used to be observed, for a part of the proceedings was
that ' a ram was hunted, killed, roasted, and eaten.' Mr Baring-
Gould gives these details, and adds a village anecdote. ' The
parson there once asked a lad in Sunday-school, " How many
commandments are there ?" " Three, sir," was the prompt
reply — " Easter, Whitsuntide, and the Revel." '
Bishopsteignton has a church in which there are portions of
Norman work, and in theparishlie the remains of a Bishop's palace,
' From ancient times,' says Lysons, ' one of the country seats of
the bishops/ It was practically rebuilt by Bishop Grandisson.
I was once given an interesting piece of information relating
to Bishopsteignton by an old man living near Newton St Cyres.
He said that in a general way the women there used to be very
small, and folks said that was because they had been changed
by the pixies when they were babies.
It is unnecessary to dwell on the fact that Teignmouth, besides
being a port, is a most flourishing watering-place. The colouring
is very rich, and especially lovely when set off by a brilliant sky
and glittering blue water. Blood-red cliffs lead north and south,
and the green of grass and plants, broken by masses of wild-flowers
of all tints, here scattered thinly, there in clumps, overlaps and
creeps down the face of the rock wherever there is foothold.
Between Teignmouth and Dawlish an ' island-rock ' of the
warmest red runs out into the sea, and through an arch in it the
rippling water may be seen beyond. Looking down at Teignmouth
from the hill on the opposite side, the town seems to run very
flatly into the angle between sea and river. In the estuary, at
103

Devon [ch. v
low tide, the ships and boats lie in pools among the sand-banks,
with the gulls circling and screaming about them.
It has been said that " the cliffs of Teignmouth owe their .deep-
red hue to the slaughter of the inhabitants by the Danes in 970,
when " the very rocks streamed with blood " '; and the old people
confidently assert that the dwarf-elder (called hereabouts ' Danes-
elder ') grows only upon the site of old battle-fields ' where the
Danes' blood was spilt !' These legends are not altogether base
less, for there is no doubt as to the pitiless brutality which the
Danes showed in their various incursions into Devon between
the years 894 and 1013. Drayton's image is bold and gruesome :
' When all the country swam with blood of Saxons shed.'
Teignmouth was last troubled by an enemy in 1690, when
Admiral de Tourville, having defeated the united Enghsh and
Dutch fleets off Beachy Head, sailed down the Channel and
anchored one night in Tor Bay. The Devonshire militia flew to
arms. ' In twenty-four hours all Devonshire was up. Every
road in the county from sea to sea was covered by multi
tudes of fighting men, all with their faces set towards Torbay.'
De Tourville, upon this discouraging reception, gave up any ideas
he may have had of disembarking, and merely sent some galleys
to Teignmouth, who first turned their cannon on the town and
afterwards landed and burned it.
The general excitement that this attack created found voice in a
ballad called ' The Devonshire Boys' Courage, 1690.' It is utter
doggerel, but expresses the contemporary views of the people, and
was sung to a tune called ' Liggan Water,' a title that, according
to Mr William Chappell, refers to an Irish stream. I give only
a few verses :

^m^m^^^^i^^

^^^g^^L^tar^i

s^

104

ch. v] The Teign
' Brave Devonshire Boys made haste away
When news did come from Tinmouth-bay,
The French were landed in that town
And Treacherously had burnt it down.
' When to the Town they did draw near,
The French did straightways disappear ;
Because that they had then beat down
And basely burnt poor Tinmouth-town.
' On Haldon-Hill they did design
To draw their men up in a line ;
But Devonshire Boys did make them run ;
When once they did discharge a Gun.
' Brave Blew coat Boys did watch them so,
They to no other place dare go ;
For if they had returned again,
I'm sure the Frenchmen had been slain.
' Let Monsieur then do what he can,
We'll still Reign Masters o'er the Main ;
Old England's Right upon the Sea
In spight of France maintain'd shall be.
' No Seaman fears to lose his Blood,
To justifie a Cause so good ;
To fight the French, who have begun
With burning down poor Tinmouth-town.
' The Cornish Lads will lend a hand,
And Devonshire Boys will with them Band,
To pull the pride of Monsieur down,
Who basely burn'd poor Tinmouth-town..'

105

CHAPTER VI
Torbay
' Torbay, unknown to the Aonian Quire,
Nothing oblig'd to any Poet's lyre . . .
The Muses had no Matter from thy Bay,
To make thee famous till great William's Day. . . .
To Orange only and Batavia's Seed
Remain'd this glory, as of old decreed,
To make thy Name immortal, and thy Shore
More famous and renown'd than heretofore. . . .
O happy, happy Bay ! All future times
Shall speak of thee renown'd in foreign Climes ! . . .
Muses have matter now, enough to make
Poets of Peasants for Torbaia's sake. . .
King David's Deeds were sung, and Triumphs too,
And why should not Great Orange have his due ?
Supream in Earth, Dread Sovereign thou art ;
Long may'st thou reign, we pray with all our heart.'
Avant : Torbaia digna Camesnsis.
IT is impossible for those who have had no better fortune than
to see Torbay only in prints or photographs to gather more
than a very imperfect idea of what its best can be. The cliffs
near Paignton are red, nearer Torquay they are a warm russet,
alternating with a rosy grey where limestone comes to the sur
face ; and some of the rocks beneath, shining with salt water, are
pink, interlined with white veins. In fair weather the warm tints
of these cliffs, chequered by a green lattice-work of plants and
bushes, and the rich, full colours of the sea, make a picture that
is more easily remembered than described.
The great promontories of Hope's Nose and Berry Head stand
between three and four miles apart at the northern and southern
points of this rounded, shallow bay. Torquay itself is a new town,
and only developed into being one in the early part of the last
century. At the time that there was real fear of Napoleon making
106

¦ ¦¦ ¦

TORQUAY FROM THE BAY

ch. vi] Torbay
a descent on this coast, fortifications were built on Berry Head,
and houses were wanted for the officers in charge. One authority
suggests that Torquay was brought into general notice by serving
as a lodging for the families of officers in the Channel Fleet under
Lord St Vincent, who used Torbay as an anchorage. But in any
case its existence is really due to Napoleon. Certainly the growth
was rapid, for Lysons, writing about 1820, speaks of Torquay
as having been till lately a hamlet, — and even its name is
modern. The one important building was the Abbey, founded in 1196
by William, Lord Briwere, and endowed by him with the whole of
the Manor of Wolborough and part of the Manor of Torre. The
probable origin of this great gift is interesting. The Abbey was
founded soon after the return from Austria of the hostages who
had been kept there till the ransom of King Richard I was paid,
and it has been generally supposed that, as the eldest sons of the
greatest noblemen were sent, Lord Briwere's only son was among
the number, and that the Abbey was a thank-offering, the fruit of
a vow made by the father in regard to his son's happy return.
Lord Briwere installed in the Abbey seven monks of the Premon-
stratensian Order. Alicia, daughter of Lord Briwere, married
Reginald de Mohun, and as, on the death of her brother, she in
herited the Torre property, it is easily seen how Tor-Mohun came
to be the name of the parish. Successive bequests to the mon
astery made it the richest house of the Order in England, though
at the time of its dissolution there were only fifteen monks besides
the Abbot. The peace and prosperity of the Abbey were once
broken, Dr Oliver tells us in his ' Monasticon Dicecesis Exoniensis,'
by a painful incident : ' In 1390, notwithstanding the Abbot's
irreproachable life and manners, some malicious person spread a
rumour that he had beheaded one of the Canons of Tor called
Simon Hastings.' The Abbot was ' greatly distressed,' and the
Bishop pronounced the accusation to be a falsehood of the
' blackest dye,' and, besides, declared that he, the said Canon,
was alive and well. But that it should be possible to bring such
a charge against an ' irreproachable ' Abbot in this casual way,
107

Devon [ch. vi
and that the accusation should for a moment be listened to, is a
view of those days not often opened to one.
t After changing hands several times, the Abbey became the
property of theiCarys (in 1662), and their descendants still live
in it. Many alterations have been inevitable, but much of the
character of the building still remains. Parts of the walls of
the original church are still standing, and enough of the masonry
is left to show the exact plan. It was longer than any other
church that has since been built in Torquay, and wanted only
seven feet to equal the length of Exeter Cathedral between the
west end and the organ-screen. The refectory stretches towards
the west; it has been converted into a chapel, and a stone
cross rises from the roof. The embattled gateway and the whole
of the building near it are of a soft rose colour ; beyond stands
a tower, duller in tint, and at right angles the old grange, known
since Elizabethan days as the Spanish Barn. For the Capitana,
the first ship of the Armada to be taken, feU to Sir Francis Drake
off Torbay, and the four hundred men captured on her were
brought to Tor Abbey and imprisoned in the grange.
Leaving Torquay, and going some miles to the north, and
slightly inland, one arrives at Haccombe, the smallest parish in
England. This year (1908) the population numbers nine. It is also
conspicuous for having as its Rector the sole ' Arch-priest ' in
the kingdom, and for its independence, for though Haccombe
Church is subject to the jurisdiction of the Bishop, it claims to be
free from any ruling of the Archdeacon. A college or arch-
presbytery was founded there in 1341, ' which college/ says
Lysons, ' consisted of an arch-priest and five other priests,
who lived together in community.' The Arch-priest, or Rector,
as he is usually called, is the only remaining member of the
college. Haccombe passed by a succession of heiresses from the Hac-
combes, who held it in the time of William I, to the Carews, during
the fourteenth century, to which family it still belongs. On the
church door hang two horseshoes, commemorating a victory that
George Carew, Earl of Totnes, wrested from his cousin, Sir Arthur
108

ch. vi] Torbay
Champernowne. A wager was laid as to whose horse could swim
farthest into the sea, and the horse of ' the bold Carew ' won.
The story is told in the following ballad :
' The feast was over in Haccombe Hall,
And the wassail-cup had been served to all,
When the Earl of Totnes rose in his place,
And the chanters came in to say the grace.
' But scarce was ended the holy rite,
When there stepped from the crowd a valiant knight ;
His armour bright and his visage brown.
And his name Sir Arthur Champernowne.
' " Good Earl of Totnes, I've brought with me
My fleetest courser of Barbary ;
And whether good or ill betide,
A wager with thee I mean to ride."
' " No Barbary courser do I own ;
But I have," quoth the Earl, " a Devonshire roan ;
And I'll ride for a wager by land or sea,
The roan 'gainst the courser of Barbary."
' " 'Tis done," said Sir Arthur, " already I've won ;
And I'll stake my manor of Dartington
'Gainst Haccombe Hall and its rich domain."
So the Earl of Totnes the wager hath ta'en.
*****
The land is for men of low degree ;
But the knight and the Earl they ride by sea.

. n

To horse ! to horse !" resounds through the ha]'
Each warrior steed is led from its stall ;
And with gallant train over Milburn Down
Ride the bold Carew and the Champernowne.
' But when they came to the Abbey of Tor,
The Abbot came forth from the western door.
And much he prayed them to stay and dine,
But the Earl took naught save a goblet of wine.
' Sir Arthur he raised the bowl on high,
And prayed to the Giver of victory ;
Then drank success to himself in the course,
And the sops of the wine he gave to his horse.
109

Devon [ch. vi

' Away they rode from the Abbey of Tor,
Till they reached the inlet's curving shore ;
The Earl plunged first in the foaming wave,
And was followed straight by Sir Arthur the brave.
' The wind blew hard and the waves beat high.
And the horses strove for the mastery ;
Till Sir Arthur cried, " Help, thou bold Carew !
Help, if thou art a Christian true !
' " Oh, save for the sake of that lady of mine !
Good Earl of Totnes, the manor is thine ;
The Barbary courser must yield to the roan,
And thou art the Lord of Dartington."
' The Earl his steed began to restrain,
And he seized Sir Arthur's horse by the rein ;
He cheered him with words, and gave him his hand,
And he brought Sir Arthur safe to land.
' Then Sir Arthur, with sickness and grief oppressed,
Lay down in the Abbey chambers to rest ;
But the Earl he rode from the Abbey of Tor
Straight forward to Haccombe Chapel door.
' And there he fell on his knees and prayed,
And many an Ave Maria he said ;
Bread and money he gave to the poor,
And he nailed the roan's shoes to the chapel door.'
How far this account is accurate it is difficult to say, but the
Champernownes are still at Dartington.
Some miles south, and a little to the west, about midway be
tween Haccombe and Torquay, lies Kingskerswell, a village not
very much heard of nowadays, but once the property of a very
distinguished soldier and statesman. ' The Lord Nicolas de Mules
(or Meoles, or Molis), a counsellor of estate, had this manor in
the time of Henry III, to whom the King granted other lands
to hold by knightly service  He was Sheriff of Hampshire and
Governor of Winchester Castle, and held the islands of Guernsey,
Jersey, Serke, and Aureney committed to his trust. In 23
Henry III he was Sheriff of Yorkshire, and afterwards sent Am
bassador to denounce war against France, and, being an expert
no

ch. vi] Torbay
soldier, was upon the King's return to England appointed Sene
schal of Gascoigne, being held in such esteem by Henry III that
he admitted James, his son and heir, to have education with
Prince Edward at the King's charge. Continuing stiU in Gascoigne,
he obtained a signal victory over the King of Navarre.' Risdon
adds the information that Sir Nicolas took the King ' prisoner
in the field.' On his return he took part in the ' War against the
Welsh,' and must have acquitted himself brilliantly, since here
after honours were showered upon him. He was made Governor
of the Castles of Carmarthen and Cardigan, then ' Constable of
Dover Castle and Warden of the Cinque-ports, and the same
year Sheriff of Kent, also Governor of the Castles of Canterbury
and Rochester ; and of Sherborne and Corfe Castle,' in the county
of Dorset. It is almost bewildering to follow his rapid plunges
from one sphere of action to another, and it certainly emphasizes
the fact that the strenuous life is no novelty. It contradicts,
too, a view rather generally held, that the spirit of restless daring
and love of adventure that have distinguished innumerable men
of Devon belonged solely to Elizabethan days — a view that has,
no doubt, sprung up because the great lights that shone in that
glorious reign have eclipsed all lesser ones.
But the poppy of oblivion has fallen on the name of Sir
Nicolas, and he is no conspicuous figure in the most local histories ;
even Prince does not count him among his ' Worthies.'
From Kingskerswell one passes through a fertile and pleasant
country, which suggests to the passer-by that the time and labour
needed in weeding and chopping down must be almost greater
than that spent in sowing and growing plants. The number of
orchards here has perhaps given rise to a proverb, said to be
peculiar to South Devon, but calling to mind Tusser's treatise
on Husbandry :
' If good apples you would have,
The leaves must go into the grave.'
This explanation of the rhyme has been suggested : ' Rather, per
haps, be in the grave — i.e., You must plant your leaves in the fall
of the leaf.' Ill

Devon [ch. vi
A road leading south, then to the east, reaches Paignton, which
stands almost midway between north and south in the bay. The
old town was at a little distance from the sea, but latterly new
houses have been built in all directions, and have brought it close
to the water's edge. Paignton has a fine church, chiefly Perpen
dicular, but parts are of earlier work, and there is a most beauti
ful carved screen.
The adventures of a native of Paignton — a certain Will Adams,
born about 1612, ' of mean and obscure parentage ' — are not to be
forgotten. He was, says Mr Norway, ' one of those " Turkish cap
tives " of whom so many were languishing in Algiers two centuries
ago, and who, there is little doubt, were specially in the minds of
the authors of the petition in our Litany, " For all poor prisoners
and captives "... and it may very well be that Adams' name was
coupled with this prayer on many a Sunday in Paignton Church,
for the agony of his captivity lasted full five years.' At the end of
that time he and his companions, despairing of rescue, set to work
on what would indeed have seemed to most people a hopeless ven
ture. They began to make a boat with a keel twelve feet long, but
' because it was impossible to convey a piece that length out of the
city, but it must be seen and suspected, they cut it in two and
fitted it for joyning, just in the middle.' Then ' because boards
would require much hammering and that noise would be like to
betray them, they bought as much canvas as would cover their
boat twice over.' With as much ' pitch, tar, and tallow, as would
serve to make a kind of tarpauling cloth, two pipe staves saw'd
across ... for oars, a little bread and two leather bottles full of
fresh water, and as much canvas as would serve for a sail,' their
preparations before ' launching out into the deep ' were complete.
But even their courage was not the most splendid in the affair.
When the prisoners had actually started, they found that the boat
was overloaded, so ' two were content to stay on shore.' They
were ' content ' to return to toil and slavery indefinitely, and to
face the bitter wrath and vengeance of their captors, enraged
by the loss of so many prisoners.
Those who escaped had much to endure. Their boat leaked, and
112

PS

w

!

M

ch. vi] Torbay
the salt water spoiled their bread. ' Pale famine stared them in
the face,' writes Prince, and they suffered even greater tortures
from thirst and heat. ' On the fifth day, as they lay hulling up
and down, God sent them some relief, viz., a tortois,' which they
came upon asleep in the sea and caught. With strength almost
gone, they reached Majorca, where, luckily, the Viceroy was
kindly disposed towards them, and they started home in one of
' the King of Spain's gallies.'
Adams died at a good old age in his native place.
The fine cliff called Berry Head runs far out into the sea at the
southern edge of Tor Bay, and standing back, within the bay, is
the small and pretty town of Brixham — celebrated for its trawlers,
and for being the landing-place of William III. The red and brown
sails of ' Brixham trawlers ' scattered over the blue-grey waters of
the bay seem very familiar, and it is a question for consideration
how many exhibitions at the Royal Academy have not included a
picture bearing that title. The fishery is an old one, and in the
reign of Henry VIII the Vicar could claim personal tithes in fish
equal in value to £340 of our money.
Fishermen and others gave a very cordial welcome to the Prince
of Orange when he arrived on November 5, 1688. But by no one
can he have been more vehemently applauded than by the author
of the lines I have quoted at the head of the present chapter —
the Rev Philip Avant, Vicar of Salcombe. The poem, originally
written in Latin, and translated by the author, takes up almost
the whole of his small and rather rare volume, Torbaia digna
Camcensis. It is in parts unintentionally amusing, and is interest
ing as showing how far the frenzied fervour of bigotry may carry
a naturally amiable person, for in the narrow intervals between
his torrents of denunciation it is clear that Mr Avant was, in
ordinary matters, a kindly-disposed man.
A pamphlet graphically describing the ' Expedition from Torbay
to Whitehall ' was written by another clergyman, John Whittle
by name, a ' Minister Chaplain in the Army,' and from this
pamphlet long extracts are given in a paper on this subject by the
late Mr Windeatt. Some of these quotations I am now venturing
113 H

Devon [ch. vi
to repeat: ',tThe morning was very obscure with the Fog and Mist,
and withal it was so calm that the Vessels now as 'twere touch'd
each other, every ship coming as near unto the ship wherein the
Prince of Orange was, as the Schipper thereof would permit them.
. . . His Highness the Prince of Orange gave orders that his Stan
dard should be put up, and accordingly it was done, the White
Flag being put uppermost, signifying his most gracious offer of
Peace unto all such as would live peaceably. And under that, the
Red or Bloody Flag was set up, signifying War unto all such as
did oppose his designs. The Sun, recovering strength, soon dissi
pated the Fog, and dispers'd the Mist, insomuch that it prov'd a
very pleasant Day. By this time the people of Devonshire there
about had discovered the Fleet, the one telling the other thereof ;
they came flocking in droves to the side or brow of the Hills to
view us. Some guess'd we were French because they saw divers
White Flags ; but the standard of the Prince, the Motto of which
was, For the Protestant Religion and Liberty, soon undeceived
them. . . . Bells were ringing as we were sailing towards the Bay,
and as we landed, which many judged to be a good omen.' A
little later, when they had landed, people ' came running out at
their doors to see this happy sight. So the Prince with Marschal
Schomberg, and divers Lords, Knights and Gentlemen, marched
up the Hill, which all the Fleet could see over the Houses, the
Colours flying and flourishing before his Highness, the Trumpets
sounding, the Haut-boys played, the Drums beat, and the Lords,
Knights and Gentlemen shouted ; and sundry Huzzas did now
echo in the Fleet, from off the Hill, insomuch that our very hearts
below in the water were even ravish'd for going thereof.'
There is an absurd story, here quoted with mild ridicule, that on
the Prince's landing he was received by the inhabitants of Brix
ham with this address :
' And please your Majesty King William,
You're welcome to Brixham Quay,
To eat buck-horn and drink bohea,
Along with me,
And please your Majesty King William.'
114

3RIXHAM TRAWLERS

ch. vi] Torbay
The ' And please ' must be a corruption of ' An it please,' which
does make sense, but the rhyme cannot have been invented until
later, for it certainly was not within the power of a fisherman to
offer ' bohea,' or any other kind of tea, in those days. ' Buck-
horn ' is rather puzzling, for it gives no clue as to what it might
be. Anybody who has heard of edible buck-horn (or buck's-
horn) at all, would probably think of an obscure and humble
salad herb, now practically forgotten, and at no time a dainty
to be pressed on ' King William's ' notice in this manner. The
Enghsh Dialect Dictionary comes to the rescue by explaining
that in Cornwall, Devon, and Cumberland, ' buck-horn ' is a
name for ' salted and dried whiting.' ' Bok horn ' also appears
in the Receiver's accounts at Exeter (about 1488), when the
citizens, having a quarrel with the Bishop, tactfully sent successive
presents of fish to the Lord Chancellor while the case lay before
him. Buck-horn is still sold in Brixham.
The soldiers' first experiences in England were not agreeable, as
' they were marching into Camp all hours in the Night'; and some
having been unlucky enough to get astray from their companies,
' it was no easy matter to find them in the dark amongst so many
thousands. It was a cold, frosty night, and the stars twinkl'd ex
ceedingly ; besides the Ground was very wet after so much Rain
and ill Weather ; the Souldiers were to stand to their arms the
whole Night, at least to be in readiness if anything should happen,
or the enemy make an Assault, and therefore sundry Souldiers
were to fetch some old Hedges and cut down green Wood to burn
these with, to make some Fire.'
Mr Windeatt, writing in 1880, gives an astonishing instance of
how few links a chain may sometimes need in order to stretch from
century to century. He says a gentleman gave him the following
account : ' There are few now left who can say, as I can, that they
have heard their father and their wife's father talking together
of the men who saw the landing of William III at Torbay. I have
heard Captain Clements say he as a boy heard as many as seven or
eight old men each giving the particulars of what he saw then.
One saw a shipload of horses hauled up to the quay, and the
115 H 2

Devon [ch. vi
horses walked out all harnessed, and the quickness with which
each man knew his horse and mounted it surprised them. Another
old man said : " I helped to get on shore the horses that were
thrown overboard, and swam on shore guided by only a single
rope running from the ship to the shore "; and another would
describe the rigging and build of the ships, but all appeared to
welcome them as friends.
' My father remembered only one — " Gaffer Will Webber," of
Staverton, who served his apprenticeship with one of his an
cestors, and who lived to a great age — say that he went from
Staverton as a boy with his father, who took a cartload of
apples from Staverton to the highroad from Brixham to Exeter,
that the soldiers might help themselves to them, and to wish them
" Godspeed." '
The gentlemen of the county were more tardy in their welcome,
and perhaps this is not very surprising, when one considers that
they can scarcely have recovered from the terrible vengeance
that seared all who had followed Monmouth only three years
before. Sir Edward Seymour, formerly Speaker of the House of Com
mons, was one of the first and, says Macaulay, the most
important of the great landowners who joined the Prince at
Exeter. He was ' in birth, in political influence, and in parlia
mentary abilities . . . beyond comparison the foremost among
the Tory gentlemen of England.'
Sir Edward evidently rode in great state, for the Duke of
Somerset, his descendant, still has a very imposing red velvet
saddle, elaborately embroidered with heraldic and other designs
in silver, that ' Mr Speaker Seymour ' used on this occasion.
The march was continued in the most miserable discomfort.
Six hundred horses had died either at sea or from the effects of the
storm, and the men, still suffering from a ' dissiness in the Heads
after they had been so long toss'd at Sea,' had extra burdens to
carry. The weather was wet and stormy, the roads were ' extreme
rough and stony,' and when they encamped and lay down for the
night, ' their Heads, Backs and Arms sank deep into the Clay.'
116

ch. vi] Torbay
Further, their rations were so spare that when they came on an
inclosure with turnips they felt they had found a feast. ' Some
roasted them and others eat them raw, and made a brave Ban
quet.' However, matters improved the next day as they drew
nearer to Newton Abbot. People came in crowds to see them.
' Now they began to give us applause and pray for our Success.'
Hitherto they had but wavered as they said, ' the Irish would
come and cut them in pieces if it should be known.' On ap
proaching Newton, ' a certain Divine went before the Army, and
finding 'twas their Market day, he went unto the Cross, or Town
hall,' and read the Declaration of the Prince of Orange. ' To
which the people with one Heart and Voice answered Amen :
Amen, and forthwith shouted for Joy, and made the Town ring
with their echoing Huzzas.'
Such was the auspicious reception of the 'Deliverer of the Nation
from Popery, Slavery, Brass Money and Wooden Shoes.'
A very different note, jarring against this triumphal strain, is
struck by a Jacobite ballad on the same event, too long to quote
entirely here. It bears the conciliatory title of
THE BELGICK BOAR.
God prosper long our noble King,
Our hopes and wishes all :
A fatal landing late there did
In Devonshire befall.
To drive our Monarch from his throne
Prince Naso took his way.
The babe may rue that's newly-born
The landing at Torbay.
The stubborn Tarquin, void of grace,
A vow to Hell does make,
To force his father abdicate
And then his crown to take.
* * * *
Then declarations flew about,
As thick as any hail,
Who, tho' no word was e'er made good,
Did mightily prevail. 117

Devon [ch. vi

We must be Papists or be slaves,
Was then the gen'ral cry,
But we'll do anything to save
Our darling liberty.
We'll all join with a foreign prince.
Against our lawful king ;
For he from all our fancy' d fears
Deliverance doth bring.
* * * *
Then our allegiance let's cast off,
James shall no longer guide us ;
And tho' the French would bridle us,
None but the Dutch shall ride us.

118

POSTBRIDGE

CHAPTER VII
The Dart
' I cannot tell what you say, green leaves,
I cannot tell what you say ;
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
And a word in you this day.
' I cannot tell what you say, rosy rocks,
I cannot tell what you say ;
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
And a word in you this day.
' I cannot tell what you say, brown streams,
I cannot tell what you say ;
But I know that in you too a spirit doth live,
And a word doth speak this day.
' Oh ! green is the colour of faith and truth,
And rose the colour of love and youth.
And brown of the fruitful clay.
Sweet Earth is faithful, and fruitful and young, ,
And her bridal day shall come ere long,
And you shall know what the rocks and the streams
And the whispering woodlands say.' Kingsley : Dartside.
OF all the rivers of Devonshire, the Dart claims the first
place, both for beauty and for interesting associations ;
and between the lonely wastes about its source on
Dartmoor, and the calm, broad reaches above Dart
mouth, the scenery is not only always beautiful, but adds the
great charm of being beautiful in quite different ways.
Drayton recognises the claim, for in the Poly-olbion, speaking
of the ' mother of rivers,' Dartmoor, he says :
' From all the other floods that only takes her name.
And as her eld'st in right the heir of all her fame.'
119

Devon [ch. vii
And a few lines later he makes Dart declaim :
'  There's not the proudest flood
That falls betwixt the Mount and Exmore shall make good
Her royalty with mine, with me nor can compare ;
I challenge anyone to answer me that dare.'
The East Dart rises about a mile south of Cranmere Pool, and at
first makes its way through bare bogs, with great black holes
gaping open here and there in the peat, tussocks of coarse grass
and dry, rustling bents, isolated tufts of heather, and now and
again wide spaces of waving cotton-grass. All around is ' an ever
lasting wash of air ' and a sense of spaciousness, which it is to
be hoped no cynically named ' improvements ' may ever diminish.
Westcote comments on the name. ' Of some it is supposed that
the river takes name of the swiftness of the current ; the like is
thought of the river Arrow in Warwickshire, and of the Tygris
in Mesopotamia, which among the Persians doth import a shaft.'
f There is a saying that ' the river " cries " when there is to be a
change of wind. " Us shall have bad weather, maister ; I hear
the Broadstones a-crying." The Broadstones are boulders of
granite lying in the bed of the river. The cry, however, hardly
comes from them, but from a piping of the wind, in the twists of
the glen through which the turbulent river writhes.'
Many tales on the Moor speak of the amazing swiftness with
which a freshet will suddenly swell and sweep down, an over
whelming flood. Only a few years ago a farmer was crossing a
very safe ford when he saw the freshet coming, and tried to hurry
his horse, but before he could reach the bank the torrent caught
his cart and overturned it, and he and his horse were drowned.
' River of Dart, O river of Dart,
Every year thou claimest a heart.'
The ominous couplet springs from no misty legend, but from
melancholy experience.
The East Dart runs throughout its course in a south-easterly
direction, and at Post Bridge just below the road from Moreton
Hampstead to Tavistock it is crossed by an old bridge, one of
the many rugged witnesses to unwritten history scattered all over
120

DARTMEET BRIDGE

ch. vii] The Dart
Dartmoor. It is a massive structure, built of rough granite
blocks ; the ' table-stones ' that rest on the piers are each about
fifteen feet long.
The West Dart rises farther south than the East Dart, and runs
almost due south as far as Two Bridges, and then, in many
curves to the east — sometimes almost hidden in the depths of the
hollow that has been worn between the high bare sides of the
valley — till about five miles from Two Bridges it reaches Dartmeet.
From the top of a tor close to the point where the two streams
meet the effect is rather curious, for sunk deep between the wide
barren stretches of moor and desolate tors, broad green ribbons
of trees and undergrowth, broken by tufts and uneven edges,
mark the course of the rivers till they wind away out of sight.
Their darker green makes them stand out against the sides of the
valleys, and they are the only trees in sight. In summer the
river is often very low, and then masses of great boulders in the
river-bed are seen, and some of the biggest are. crowned with
ferns, high tufts of grass, or little bushes, with the clearest water
streams between them. The bridge is over the East Dart, above
the meeting of the waters, and from just below it is possible to
get a charming view of the arches thrown up against a sunlit
mass of shimmering leaves.
From here the Dart runs south almost to Holne, the birthplace
of that true lover of Devon, Charles Kingsley. At this point
it makes a great loop to the north, flowing among lovely scenery
along a steep and narrow valley, where great rocks break
through the woods ; then curving round in Holne Chase, it turns
south again to Holne Bridge, which is crossed by the Ashburton
road. .The town is about three miles to the east.
Ashburton is one of the old stannary towns, and besides mining,
it was known for its trade in woollen goods, especially serges. In
fact, ' the seal of the Port-reeve bears a church between a teasel
and a saltire, with the sun and moon above.' The teasel was used
to raise the nap in making cloth, and was a symbol of that in
dustry, as the sun and moon were symbols of mining. In 1697 the
manufacturers felt foreign competition so keenly that the Port-
121

Devon [ch. vii
reeve, traders, and inhabitants of Ashburton signed a petition to
Parliament, begging that an Act might be passed to discourage
the importation of Irish and other foreign woollen goods.
This borough sent members to Parliament from the reign of
Edward I, but in time its representation ceased. The privilege was
given back to the borough after the Restoration, through the in
tervention of Sir John Northcote, and was held until Ashburton
was disfranchised in 1868.
A few miles farther down the river is Buckfastleigh, a small
but very flourishing town, and one of the very few that still pro
duce the serges and woollen goods for which the county was once
famous, in the sixteenth century especially, for then, as Green
tells us, ' the broadcloths of the West claimed the palm among
the woollen stuffs of England.' The church stands apart on a
height overlooking the town, and the tapering spire adds to the
effect given by its commanding position. By far the most inter
esting building here is Buckfast Abbey, founded in the reign of
Henry II, on the site of a Benedictine abbey of Saxon days.
The place must have been very remote and inaccessible when
the Benedictines first settled there, and the Saxon name given in
Bishop iElfwold's charter in 1016 was ' Buckfsesten, i.e., Deer-
fastness,' which would seem to argue that the Abbey was sur
rounded by thick woods, and was particularly lonely, even for
those times. Sable, a crozier in pale, argent, the crook or, sur
mounted by a buck's head, caboshed of the second, horned gules,
were the ancient arms of the Abbey, as they are still, though now
impaled with the Clifford arms, by permission of Lord Clifford.
The second colony of monks here were Cistercians, and the
monastery became very prosperous and the richest house of that
order in the county. King John deposited some of his jewels,
gold and silver in their keeping, and in 1297 Edward I visited the
Abbey. The Cistercians were great wool-traders, and did much
for both trade and agriculture in the districts near them. It has
been supposed that the sunken track called the Abbot's Way was
used in carrying the wool from the moorland farms belonging to
the monastery towards Plymouth and Tavistock. In the thir-
122

HOLNE BRIDGE

ch. vii] The Dart
teenth century the monks showedltheir^interest in trading by
joining the ' Gild Merchant ' of Totnes. °A memorandum on the
back of one of the ' membership rolls ' in 1236 records an agree
ment between the burgesses of Totnes and the abbot and convent
of Buckfast ; that the monks might be able ' to make all their
purchases in like manner with the burgesses, the abbot and monks
agree to pay twenty-two pence on the Saturday before Christmas
day.'* The buildings at the time of the Dissolution were very large,
and there was a fine church, but of these only a Perpendicular
tower adjoining the cloisters, and a large tithe-barn, are in a state
of good preservation at the present day. A modern house was
built on the western side of the vanished cloisters, but in 1882
the Abbey was bought for a colony of Benedictine monks from
Pierrequivire in Burgundy, who have partly rebuilt the monastery
on its ancient lines, and are restoring the Abbey church.
A few miles away to the south-west is Dean Prior, and the
living that Herrick held when he poured out his grumbles and
complaints about ' dull Devonshire.' Herrick was a true Cockney,
and the earliest part of his life was spent in a house in Cheapside.
When he grew up, he had the good luck to come into the brilliant
and witty company that gathered round Ben Jonson, so it must be
allowed that he had an excuse for sometimes thinking that life in
an obscure hamlet, two hundred miles from London, was a
dreary exile. But, as Mr R. J. King remarks, in spite of all his
grievances, he had in him a sense that responded very readily to
the pretty customs and observances of the village, that marked,
here with a handful of flowers, there with a sheaf of wheat or a
branch of holly, the different festivals of the year.
Herrick's poem ' Christmas Eve ' refers to a local custom that
appealed to him :
' Come, guard this night the Christmas-pie,
That the thief, though ne'er so sly,! . j
With his flesh-hooks, don't come nigh.
To catch it
* Transactions of the Devonshire Association, 1873.
123

Devon [ch. vii
From him, who all alone sits there,
Having his eyes still in his ear,
And a deal of mighty fear, To watch it.'
Mr King makes this interesting note on it : ' This custom, so far
as I know, is unnoticed by anyone but Herrick.
' A solitary watcher, ' " Having his eyes still in his ear,
And a deal of mighty fear,"
guarded the pie through the night before Christmas.
'The pie represented the manger of Bethlehem, and its contents
the wise men's offerings. The Devonshire "Christmas play" has
had a curious fate. Except, perhaps, in some of the moorland
parishes, it has disappeared at home. But the Newfoundland
fisheries were long carried on for the most part by sailors from the
neighbourhood of Dartmouth and Tor Bay, and Mr Jukes tells us
that the streets of St John's at Christmas-time continue to ex
hibit St George, the Turkish Knight, and all their companions, in
full vigour.'
The charm of Herrick's verses on country joys is deepened —
to the folk-lorist in particular — by remembering that the rustic
ceremonies he commemorates were probably the usual customs
observed at Dean Prior in his time. On a hot August evening he
may have watched the happy and excited children who are de
scribed in the poem ' The Hock-Cart, or Harvest-Home.'
' About the cart, hear how the rout
Of rurall youngling raise the shout,
Pressing before, some coming after,
These with a shout, and those with laughter.
Some blesse the carte, some kisse the sheaves,
Some prank them up with oaken leaves ;
Some cross the fill-horse, some with great
Devotion stroake the home-borne wheat.'
And many lines point to his acquaintance with all kinds of
village festivals, as, for instance, those which he addresses to
' Master Endymion Porter.' 124

ch. vii] The Dart
' Thy wakes, thy quintels, here thou hast,
Thy May-poles too, with garlands grac't.
Thy morris-dance, thy Whitsun-ale,
Thy sheering feast, which never faile,
Thy harvest home, thy wassaile bowle,
That's tost up after Foxi'th'hole,
Thy mummeries, thy twelfth-tide kings,
And quenes, thy Christmas revellings,
Thy nut-browne mirth, thy russet wit,
And no man pays too deare for it.'
(' Foxi'th'hole ' is a hopping game, in which boys beat each
other with gloves.)
Herrick was fortunate in having a kind and hospitable neigh
bour. Sir Edward Giles was famed for his uprightness and
generous disposition, and was looked up to by all the neighbour
hood. He succeeded to ' a large park and very handsome house,'
whose existence was partly due to the problem of the unem
ployed that was perplexing the benevolent more than three hun
dred years ago ; for John Giles, ' to the honour of his memory . . .
began building of the house, and setting up the walls about his
park, in the time of a very great dearth ; whereby hundreds of
poor men . . . were daily fed at his table, who else together with
their families in probability would have perished for want.' Sir
Edward succeeded immediately to his father, who was ' a good
old gentleman,' with a taste for small jokes that must have been
sometimes a little tedious. The son had too ' active and vigorous a
spirit ' to rest ' within the compass of an island, wherefore . . .
he travelled beyond the seas,' and in the Low Countries 'trayl'd
a pike in her Majesty's service, Queen Elizabeth of glorious
memory.' Having carved for himself a high reputation, he came
to the court of King James, to find that his fame had preceded
him, and he received the honour of knighthood at the time of the
King's coronation. This gave the old knight a chance for a little
jest, which his son must have found rather exasperating. When
he came home, his father received him with all ceremony, though
' more jocularly than seriously . . . saluted him with his title of
Sir Edward Giles at every word, and by all means would place him
125

Devon [ch. vii
above him, as one dignified with the more honourable degree ;
until at length inquiring of him: "Sir Edward, pray tell me," said
the old gentleman, "who must discharge the fees and charges of
your knighthood and honour?" Being answered, "That he hoped
he would be pleased to do that," "Nay, then," says the old gentle
man, " come down, Sir Edward Giles, and sit beneath me again,
if I am he that must pay for thy honour." ' One can imagine his
beaming satisfaction over it all !
Among Sir Edward's friends was the 'eminent and pious and
learned Divine/ Dr Barnabas Potter, whom he presented with the
living of Dean Prior. Herrick and his predecessor were indeed a
contrast to one another, for Dr Potter was ' melancholy, lean, and
a hard student.' He was afterwards transplanted from his peace
ful solitude to Court, where he was appointed Chaplain in Ordinary
to Prince Charles, and was known as the Penitential Preacher.
Afterwards, when preferred to the bishopric of Carlisle, ' he was
commonly called the Puritanical Bishop, and they said of him
in the time of king James, that Organs would blow him out of the
church, which I do not believe, the rather because he lov'd Vocal
Music, and could bear his own part therein.' Altogether, he and the
future Merry Monarch must have been very congenial companions.
Going farther south, and still keeping to the west of the
river, the traveller comes to Rattery, close to which is Venton
House, once owned by the Gibbses. In the reign of Edward III
John Gibbs was chosen to undertake important work, for he was
called to serve on several Commissions appointed to carry out the
King's business in the county. The most interesting of these Com
missions seems to have been the one appointed in 1462, for the
purpose of collecting ships for the King's fleet from those ports
— the Commissioners to be responsible for furnishing them com
pletely, from ' Masters and Mariners ' to ' bows and bowstrings,
wheat, beans, and ale.'
The members of the family whose doings were the most amus
ing, though not the most to be admired, were William Gibbs and
his son Thomas, who were proceeded against in the Star Chamber
by the Chaplain and Curate of Rattre (Rattery) Church. Some
126

ch. vii] The Dart
manuscript notes very kindly sent to me by Mr Herbert Gibbs
give a good instance of the light-hearted manner in which it
was possible to break and imake the peace in a country district
about the year 1517. The Church of Rattery claimed that
William Gibbs owed £21 2s. 8d., and he claimed that the church
owed him sixty-three shillings, and, putting into practice the
adage that Possession is nine points of the law, he boldly took
out of the church • a yron boxe locked with two lockes,' and helped
himself to the money. The complainants brought their case to be
tried before the Bishop of Exeter and several justices, but Andrew
Hillersdon, son-in-law to William Gibbs, was among them, with
the result that the only penalty imposed was to find surety for his
good ' aberying ' (bearing) of 100 marks. Although this was a very
mild verdict, it infuriated the culprit, whose next step was to
shear the Church lambs, and carry off ' 11 youes with their lambs ';
and on the Thursday night before the Feast of St. Matthew
he, with his son Thomas and many others, did ' then and there
ryottusly assemble theym togeders to kyll your said orators, ley-
in awayte,' and the said ' Thomas Gybbys with a swarde and a
bokeler made a sawte ' upon John Hals, '. . . so as the said John
Hals was in danger of his lyf and toke the church and church yerde
for his savegard and kept the same by the space of two hours.'
His enforced vigil had the added bitterness that, according to the
complainants, he had had no previous quarrel of any kind with
his assailant. But this demonstration was not enough to satisfy
the Gibbses, and the next Sunday they came again to Rattery ' in
manner of a new insurrection with twenty-three persons and
above,' and with such a fierce aspect that they caused ' great feer
and dreed ' to their neighbours, who in alarm of worse to come
warned ' your said orators ... to kepe them absent from their said
church and from their divine service, and so they dyd.' The com
plainants now evidently felt that the time for definite action on
their part had come, and the case was eventually carried before
the ' Lord Cardinal!, Chancellor of 'England/ but the account of
the proceedings does not give his verdict. i- i.jj
Returning to the river, Dartington Hall, the beautiful home of
127

Devon [ch. vii
the Champernownes, is soon reached. Dartington was originally
the gift of the Conqueror to William de Falaise, and passed through
the hands of the Lords Audley and of John Holland, Duke of
Exeter, half-brother of Richard II, before Sir Arthur Champer
nowne exchanged for it the lordship of Polslo, and settled here in
the reign of Elizabeth. And now, says Westcote, ' it glories in the
knightly tribe of Champernowne.' Originally Dartington con
sisted of two large quadrangles, but one has long been in ruins.
The most striking feature is the hall, which is seventy feet long and
forty feet wide, and has pointed windows, a huge old fireplace, and
a porch with a groined ceiling. This dates from the fourteenth cen
tury, and part of the quadrangle, together with the gateway at the
south end, is early fourteenth-century work.
The Champernownes are a very ancient and distinguished
family, though Prince complains that their ' actions and exploits
for the greatest part is devoured by time.' Sir Arthur Champer
nowne was ' a good soldier and an eminent commander in the Irish
wars ' of the sixteenth century, and was conspicuous for his zeal
and valour. Prince gives an odd little bit of gossip about an
heiress of this family. He says she was ' a frolic lady,' and no un
usual epithet could be more descriptive ; for the lady ' married
William Polglas, within three days after her father's death ; and
within two days after her husband Polglas's death, she was
married again unto John Cergeaux ! '
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth Mr Henry Champernowne
headed one hundred gentleman volunteers, who, with the Queen's
permission, went to help the cause of the ' Protestant Princes ' in
France ; and it is interesting to learn that Sir Walter Raleigh,
then seventeen years old, was one of this company.
The Champernownes of Dartington were, however, only a
younger branch of the family. The elder branch lived ' in great
splendour ' at Modbury. A story is told about them of which,
perhaps, the most accurate version may be found in Britton and
Brayley's 'Beauties of England and Wales': 'Tradition speaks
very highly ... of the magnificent manner in which the Champer
nownes lived, and particularly of their keeping a very fine band of
128

FORE STREET, TOTNES

ch. vii] The Dart
singers and musicians, which band, if report may be credited, was
theoccasionof the family'sruin, "forthat Mr Champernowne taking
it on the Thames in the time of Queen Elizabeth, her Majesty was
so delighted with the music, that she requested the loan of it for a
month ; to which Mr Champernowne, aware of the improbability
of its ever returning, would not consent, saying that he ' hoped
her Majesty would allow him to keep his fancy.' The Queen was
so highly exasperated at this refusal, that she found some pre
tence to sue him at law, and ruin him, by obliging him, in the
course of the proceedings, to sell no fewer than nineteen manors."
This anecdote, at least the circumstance of the sale of the nine
teen manors about the above period, is in a great degree con
firmed by the title-deeds of some lands in and about Modbury.'
A very short distance to the south lies the ancient and very
picturesque town of Totnes, in which, from the round Norman
keep at its crown, to the river winding round the foot of the hill,
witnesses to the past are jostling against tokens of the present time.
When Leland journeyed through it, the town already gave the
idea of having passed its meridian, and his words are clear and
concise : ' The Castelle of Totnes standith on the hille North West
of the Towne. The Castell waulis and the stronge Dungeon be
maintained. The Loggingis of the Castelle be clene in Ruine.'
The early chroniclers go back gloriously into the dim mists of
antiquity for the origin of Totnes, and when no carping critics in
sisted on analyzing popular history and distilling all the romance
out of it, the story of the town was very fine indeed. The founder
of Totnes, then, was Brutus of Troy, who after long wanderings
arrived in this charming bit of country, and on this hill made the
great announcement :
' Here I stand, and here I rest,
And this place shall be called Totnes.'
Moreover, the stone that he stepped ashore upon is still here, and
the Mayor stands on it whenever it is his duty to proclaim a new
Sovereign. The claims of Totnes have been set forth with no undue modesty.
' It hath flourished, and felt also the storms of affliction, under
129 1

Devon [ch. vii
Britons, Romans, Saxons, and Normans. To speak somewhat
of the antiquity thereof, I hope I shah take no great pains to
prove it (and that without opposition) the prime town of Great
Britain.' Its history is taken in grand strides. Having explained
that the coming of Brutus was held by some to be contemporary
with the rule of Eli as high-priest in Israel, the writer continues :
' The first conqueror Brutus gave this town and the two pro
vinces, Devon and Cornwall, then but one, to his cousin and great
assistant, Corinceus, as is well known ; whereof the western part is
(as they say) called Cornwall ; who peopled it with his own regi
ment ; and being an excellent wrestler, as you have heard, trained
his following in the same exercises ; whereof it comes that the
western men in that sport win the mastery and game wheresoever
they come. . . . The second conqueror, William of Normandy, be
stowed this town, together with Dartmouth and Barnstaple, on a
worthy man named Judseel.'
The space of time between the first and second ' conquerors '
does not seem to strike the historian as a rather wide gap, and the
doings of the one and the other are related with almost equal con
fidence and with the same air of authority.
Judhael de Totnes is supposed to have built the castle, and al
though only the walls of the round keep now remain, the trouble
of the long climb up to it is well repaid by the lovely view that
is gained from the ruin. Fertility and abundance seem to be
the characteristics of the land, and the ridiculous suggestion
that the town's name has been corrupted from Toute-d-l'aise
is one shade less absurd, because that title would be so very
appropriate. Here and there a silver gleam shows where the river
runs between heavily wooded banks. To the east a green and
smiling country of gentle hills and valleys leads to that shade of
past splendour, the Castle of Berry Pomeroy ; and far away to the
north-west, it is possible to see the high, sharp tors on Dartmoor.
Looking straight down, the uneven roofs seem tumbled over one
another in a way that suggests that different ages have casually
showered them into the little town.
Totnes received its first charter from King John, and there are
130

ch. vii] The Dart
few older boroughs in the country. Originally a walled town,
Fore Street is still crossed by the East Gate, which has been re
built in comparatively modern times. Within is a room decorated
by an early Renaissance frieze and ' linen-pattern ' panelling. The
upper stories of some of the old houses project over the lower ones,
and in the High Street they jut quite across the pavements, and
rest upon columns, making piazzas or covered ways along the
street. Such piazzas are very uncommon in England, but there is
a short one, called the Butter Walk, at Dartmouth. t t
The church is a very fine Perpendicular building, of a warm
rose colour, and it has a high battlemented tower from which three
figures look out of their niches. Some very grotesque gargoyles
peer down from the roof at intervals. The great treasure of the
church is its screen, carved so finely that the pattern seems like
lacework, and it is difficult to realize that it can be of stone. The
main lines of the carving curve and spread upwards almost like
the lines of palm-leaves, and the screen is coloured and gilded.
There is another beautiful and delicate, though less elaborate, bit
of carving which divides a little chapel from the south side of the
chancel. Under the tower arch is a curious monument to Christo
pher Blackhall, who died in 1635, and his four wives, who are
kneeling one behind the other. The dates of their deaths are
very clearly marked by the different fashions of their dresses —
a compact and upstanding ruff adds to the stiff precision of the
first wife's appearance ; while the sloping lines of a ' Vandyke '
collar embellish the dress of the fourth.
On the north side of the church stands the old Guildhall, and
in front of it another tiny piazza, bordered by granite pillars.
Inside ' linen-pattern ' panelling lines the walls ; there are carved
seats all round the upper end, and in the council-chamber beyond
are some fragments of fine moulding.
Before leaving the town, a curious custom practised in the
eighteenth century must be mentioned— that of taking dogs to
help in catching salmon. Defoe came here in his travels in the
West, and saw,; the fish being caught. The fish, he says, in the
flowing tide swim into a ' cut, or channel,' which has a ' grating of
131 1 2

Devon [ch. vii
wood, the cross-bars of which . . . stand pointing inward towards
one another. . . . We were carried thither at low water, where we
saw about fifty or sixty small salmon, about seventeen to twenty
inches long, which the country people call salmon-peel,' caught by
putting in a net at the end of a pole. ' The net being fixed at one
end of the place, they put in a dog (who was taught his trade be
forehand) at the other end of the place, and he drives all the fish
into the net, so that, only holding the net still in its place, the
man took up two or three and thirty salmon-peel at the first
time.' He finishes the story by saying that they bought some for
dinner at twopence apiece. ' And for such fish, not at all bigger,
and hot so fresh, I have seen six and sixpence each given at a
London fish-market.'
The river leaves Totnes in broad, sweeping curves between the
hills, and rolls on past the lovely woods of Sharpham, and on its
course to Dartmouth passes the early homes of two men who
each played a part in English history. At Sandridge, close to the
river, lived Captain John Davies, or Davis, whose name is familiar
as the discoverer of Davis's Straits. Prince, who himself lived not
far away, takes the fascination of Dartmouth, and the longing for
the sea that Dartmouth seemed to inspire, as quite natural, and
says casually that, living so near this town, ' Mr Davis had ... a
kind of invitation, to put himself early to sea.'
These were in the days when the Merchant Adventurers were at
the height of their importance and prosperity, and it was in the
hope of opening up a trade for the woollen goods of the West-
country with India and China that Captain Davis set out to look
for the North- West Passage.
To face all the hazards of this journey, so very far away from
civilization, and the perils and shocks that might await him in
the frozen North, he fitted out a little fleet which consisted of the
' Barke Sunneshine, of London, fifty tunnes, and the Moonshine,
of Dartmouth, thirty-five tunnes, the ship Mermayd, of a hundred
and twenty tunnes, and a pinesse of tenne tunnes named the North
Starr e.'* But in spite of this name of good augury the little
* ' An Elizabethan Guild of the City of Exeter,' by William Cotton.
132

SHARPHAM WOODS I RIVER DART

ch. vii] The Dart
pinnace never came home again, and one can only admire with
awe the daring that ventured to sail a boat of ten tons across
the boisterous Atlantic into the unknown Arctic Seas. Traces
of Davis's wandeings along the coasts of North America may still
be found in the names he bestowed on different points. ' On
sighting first the land, he named the bay which he entered after
his friend, Gilbert Sound ; we find also Exeter Sound, Totnes
Roads, Mount Raleigh, and other familiar titles. A few years
later John Davis found the right course to India and China, and
introduced the trade from this country which exists to the present
time.' A greater man than Davis lived farther down the river at Green-
away, opposite the pretty village of Dittisham, which, with its
strip of beach and ferry, looks as if it had been ' made for a
picture.' Sir Humphrey Gilbert, stepbrother to Sir Walter
Raleigh, was a great man to whom Fortune was not overkind,
but his ' virtues and pious intentions may be read . . . shining
too gloriously to be dusked by misfortune.' His aims were
higher than the hopes that stirred most of his contemporaries,
and of his ' noble enterprizes the great design . . . was to discover
the remote countries of America, and to bring off those savages
from their diabolical superstitions, to the embracing the gospel.'
He made two efforts to graft a colony with little success, but his
third effort was rather happier ; and having left Devonshire in
June, 1583, he ' sailed to Newfoundland and the great river of
St Laurence in Canada ; which he took possession of, and seized
the same to the crown of England, and invested the Queen in an
estate for two hundred leagues in length by cutting a turf and rod
after the antient custom of England.' From the developments of
that great country that are now taking place, it cannot but be in
teresting to look back along the vista of years to this very simple
ceremony. Later this group of emigrants lost heart, and nearly all re
turned to England, and possibly Sir Humphrey may have won
dered whether this venture also would have but a flickering exist
ence, and would leave no lasting result of the work on which he
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Devon [ch. vii
had spent his years and his strength and his riches. Or it may
be that no doubts troubled him, for he had a ' noble and gallant
spirit,' and his dauntless motto was ' Quid non ?' The story of
his death makes an appropriate ending to his life. He was with
his colony in Newfoundland when ' necessaries began to fail/ and
he was urged to return home. He started in the Squirrel, a ship
of ten tons. When they were far out at sea a violent tempest blew
up, and those in the Golden Hind (a larger ship accompanying
them) saw with horror the imminent danger that their friends
were in. But Sir Humphrey was quite composed, and those in the
Golden Hind were near enough to hear him cry ' aloud to his com
pany, in these words : " We are so near to heaven here at sea
as at land." ' In the height of the storm the little boat was swal
lowed up by the waves, and all on board perished.
A portrait of Sir Humphrey hung in his grand-nephew's house
at Compton, where Prince saw it. ' The one hand holdeth a
general's truncheon, and the other is laid on the globe of the world,
Virginia is written over ; on his breast hangs the golden anchor,
with the pearl at the peak ; and underneath are these verses,
which, tho' none of the best, may here supply the place of an
epitaph : ' " Here you may see the portraict of his face.
Who for his country's honor oft did trace
Along the deep ; and made a noble way
Unto the growing fame, Virginia.
The picture of his mind, if ye do crave it,
Look upon Virtue's picture, and ye have it." '
The ' golden anchor ' was a jewel which the Queen had given
him as a special mark of favour, for she looked on him very gra
ciously, in spite of the fact that his efforts did not then seem as if
they would be crowned with success. A song was made about the
year 1581, in which he and Sir Francis Drake divide the honours.
' Sir Francis, Sir Francis, Sir Francis is come.
Sir William, and eke Sir Robert, his son,
And eke the good Earl of Southampton
Marcht on his way most gallantly on ;
134

ch. vii] The Dart
Then came my Lord Chamberlain, with his white staff,
And all the people begun for to laugh,
And then the Queen begun to speak,
" You're welcome home. Sir Francis Drake !"
' The Queen's Speech.
' " Gallants all of British blood,
Why do ye not sail in th' ocean flood ?
I protest ye are not all worth a Philberd
Compared with Sir Humphrey Gilberd."
' The Queen's Reason.
[Probably added in 1584-85.]
' For he walkt forth a rainy day,
To the Now-Found-land he took his way,
With many a gallant fresh and green.
He never came home again,
God bless the Queen !'
Notes to this song explain : ' We understand as the three-fold
holders of the name, " Sir Francis," three persons ; Sir Francis
Drake, Knighted by the Queen after his return from circum
navigating the world in 1580 : Sir Francis Walsingham, and Sir
Francis Vere. Sir William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, and his son, Sir
Robert. . . . The Lord Chamberlain probably meant the despicable
Sir James Crofts, who hated and calumniated Drake.'
The song probably reflects the temper of the time.
' They never came back agen.
God bless the Queen.'
The lines are very characteristic of the spirit of the age that was
bound to conquer. There was sorrow for those who were gone, but
no complaint, no grudging those who had perished where the fame
or power of the Queen could be furthered. Gloriana's subjects
found no price too great, no sacrifice worth counting ; a leader
might fall, but the great scheme must go on, her rule spread
farther and wider, and the hazards and failures overstepped.
Although upon all parts of the South Hams there hovers a spell
that is inexplicable, perhaps it is felt more in Dartmouth than in
any other place one can think of. Possibly it is the loveliness of sea
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Devon [ch. vii
and land, flowers in the crevices of the cliffs hanging low towards
the water's edge, the round tower rising out of the sea, the pic-
turesqueness of the town, with its thronging associations, or just
the intangible influences of bygone days. But there is something
of enchantment about the tower, especially when it is contem
plated from the water. And to fully appreciate the whole, one
should slip out of the harbour past the Mew Stone, where the sea
gulls rise like a drift of snowflakes on a sudden gust, into the midst
of sliding walls of transparent green water beyond, where — if there
is wind enough — glassy hillocks all round, at moments, hide every
thing else from sight. Besides the fascination of watching waves
towering above the boat, and following it as if they would fall
over and bury it in their depths, and climbing them, with the
sudden plunge into the hollow beyond, it may be, especially if
shoals of mackerel are near, that one may have the pleasure of
coming upon a flock of gulls, swimming, swooping, flapping about,
and all busy fishing. Or perhaps there will be a group of brown
divers, floating placidly on the waves, and then suddenly dis
appearing, one or two at a time or several in a moment. And pos
sibly a great black creature may appear a little way off, tossing
and seeming to turn somersaults in the water, and another and
another, and one may find oneself among a school of porpoises,
and hear the curious puffing sounds they make that are not quite
like anything else. From a little distance out, looking back across
the changing lights that glance over the water, one gets a quite
fresh view of the harbour's mouth, shut in by its high cliffs, half
veiled by soft masses of green.
Dartmouth had a great stake in the country's welfare in early
days, and was a port of much stir and traffic. From here sailed
many of the ships that Richard I gathered together to take the
English who were going with him on the Third Crusade. William
Rufus started once from this harbour when there was trouble in
Normandy, and King John paid the town two visits. In Ed
ward Ill's time Dartmouth had already become renowned for her
shipping and sent six ships for the King's service in a fight in which
engaged the combined French, Flemish, and Genoese fleets ; and
136

ch. vii] The Dart
she sent two more a few years later to help in his war against Scot
land. Fifty years later this loan was entirely eclipsed by the mag
nificence of contributing no fewer than thirty-one ships to the siege
of Calais.
Chaucer's words have often been quoted :
' A schipman was ther ; wonyng far by weste,
For ought I woot, he was of Dertemouth.'
As if it were more likely that a typical seaman would come from
Dartmouth than anywhere else ! In no harbour could that great
training-ship the Britannia have been more appropriately moored,
nor could a more fitting place be chosen for the long range of
buildings on the hill above, the Naval College that has superseded
it. Risdon tells us that the town has been ' sundry times subject
to the attacks of foreigners,' and particularly mentions one occa
sion in the reign of Henry III, when the French made such a
furious onslaught, that the women turned out by the side of their
menkind and hurled flints at the enemy. These found themselves
' courageously resisted by the towns-men and -women, Amazonian-
like.' In 1470 Dartmouth was a step in the retreat of Warwick, ' the
King-maker,' when Edward IV pursued him as far as Exeter.
Warwick embarked here for France, and his arrival in those un
settled times must have created much bustle and excitement
amongst all the gossips of the place. The Earl was ' in danger of
being surprized, whereupon leisurely (for his great spirit disdained
anything that should look like a Flight) he retired to Exeter, where
having dismissed the Remainder of the troops that attended him,
he went to Dartmouth, and there, with many ladies in his company
and a large Retinue, he took ship and sailed directly to Calais.'
Amongst the celebrities of Dartmouth is a certain John Hawley,
a great merchant of immense wealth. A couplet ran of him :
' Blow the wind high, or blow the wind low.
It bloweth still to Hawley' s hawe '
— that is,tohishouse. Prince interprets this by saying thatHawley
had so many ships all over the world that any wind that blew
was of advantage to some of them. 137

Devon [ch. vii
When Leland came here, he remarked on the great ruins of
' Hawley's Haul ... a rich merchant and a noble warrior against
the French Men.' Hawley is buried in the beautiful church of
St Saviour's, and a large brass represents him as lying between
his two wives.
In this church is a most delicately carved screen, and leaves,
sprays, and grapes are conspicuous amongst the details of its
graceful design. The groined cornice is decorated by exquisite
fan-tracery, and various saints and ' doctors of the church ' are
painted on the panels of the lower part. In the high carved stone
pulpit are tabernacled recesses, once enclosing figures, but now
containing ' royal badges and devices'; and both screen and pulpit
were coloured and gilded, and are rather dimmed by time. The
church has many very interesting features, and in the south porch
is a most curious wrought-iron door, showing a tree with long,
drooping branches and large diamond-shaped leaves, and two
wonderful heraldic lions impaled on it.
The Castle was built in the time of Henry VII, on the site of an
older one ; for when Edward IV reigned, the men of Dartmouth
built themselves a castle at the desire of the King, who promised
that if they would by this means protect the town — and, further,
would guard the harbour by putting a chain across the mouth —
they should have £30 yearly from the customs of Dartmouth and
Exeter. The chain stretched across to Kingswear, and a hollow
in the rock by the ruins of an old guard-house shows where it once
passed. The little square castle of Kingswear stands close by, and
from certain points of view both Kingswear and the beautiful
round tower of Dartmouth Castle seem to be rising straight out of
the waves.
In 1685 an agreement very much like the earlier one was made.
James II had some cause for uneasiness and for looking closely to
his defences, and, as it happened, three years later there landed,
only a few miles away, the man who, superseding him, was hailed
by the majority as England's Deliverer. But when James came
to the throne he had already seen Dartmouth conquered by an
enemy's troops ; for, although Prince Maurice had secured it in the
138

DARTMOUTH CASTLE

ch. vii] The Dart
earlier stages of the war, Fairfax had taken it later. Among the
Duke of Somerset's papers are some orders given by a Council of
War, at which ' Colonel Edward Seymour, Governor of Dartmouth
town and garrison,' was present, providing very minutely for the
defence of the town and for the supplies of the garrison. Stories
of the Parliamentary troops quartering themselves in churches
are sometimes told, with the unfair implication that they alone
were guilty of such desecration ; for where need was urgent the
Royalists took the same course. Here we find orders : ' Captain
Haughton . . . with forty men shall he in Townstall church, for
the fortifying thereof against the enemy, and that the said cap
tain, his officers and company, shall have their victuals from Mount
Boone.' Also that a ' month's provision of victuals be laid into St
Petrox church for five hundred men, and the said Major Torner
and his select officers shall be keepers thereof.' The Church of
St Clement at Townstall was fortified with ten cannon.
Fairfax attacked in the first days of January, 1646, in excep
tionally cold weather. Honourable conditions of surrender had
been first offered to the Governor, but were refused, and he pre
pared to fight to the end. ' In extreme bitter cold weather and
snow ' the Parliamentary forces moved forward, and, after exam
ining the town as closely as they could, decided to take it by storm.
Additional troops were ordered up to strengthen the besiegers, and
Sir Thomas Fairfax sent for a squadron to prevent any help
reaching the Royalists by sea. On Sunday evening ' the soldiers
were all drawn out ; about seven at night forlorn hopes were set,
the evening very mild, as at midsummer, the frost being newly
gone ; the word was given : God with us. . . . About 11 o'clock at
night the storm began.'
Three separate attacks were made simultaneously on different
parts of the town, and though the besieged fought bravely, they
fought in vain, and by the next morning all but the Castle and the
little fort above were in the hands of the enemy. Sir Hugh
Pollard, the Governor (Sir Edward Seymour was at this time
taking part in the defence of Exeter), had been wounded the night
before, and, realizing that his position was hopeless, ' after some
139

Devon [ch. vii
dispute,' he surrendered on Fairfax's terms, and yielded himself
and his officers prisoners, the common soldiers being set at liberty
to repair to their dwellings.'
The fort above Kingswear, commanded by Sir Henry Cary, was
protected by strong bulwarks, and the defence being very well
carried out, the garrison obtained better terms. ' To save time,'
writes Fairfax to the House of Peers, ' I willingly condescended to
let Sir Henry Cary march away with the rest, leaving the arms,
ordnance, ammunition, with all provisions.'
This was all accomplished on the Monday, and on the evening
following the attack the Parliament was in full possession of the
town.

140

SALCOMBE

CHAPTER VIII
Kingsbridge, Salcombe, and the
South Hams
' On the ninth day of November, at the dawning in the sky,
Ere we sailed away to New York, we at anchor here did lie ;
O'er the meadows fair of Kingsbridge, then the mist was lying grey ;
We were bound against the rebels, in the North America.
O, so mournful was the parting of the soldiers and their wives.
For that none could say for certain they'd return home with their lives.
Then the women they were weeping, and they curs'd the cruel day
That we sailed against the rebels, in the North America.'
Farewell to Kingsbridge.
KINGSBRIDGE lies in a fold of the hills that rise beyond
the head of the creek running inland from Salcombe
Harbour, and seen from the water it is very picturesque —
the houses clustered together and clinging to the slope,
and the spire of St Edmund's Church standing out against the still,
green background. Mr Mason has written of ' the mists on the
hills, and the gulls crying along the valley,' by Kingsbridge, and
this exactly sums up its individuality. It has the peculiar
atmosphere of a sea-town, but why, precisely, it is difficult
to say.
The Fore Street is steep and winding, and on one side stands a
church which, without any very striking feature, is quietly im
pressive. It is a cruciform building, and a steeple rises from the
centre. A chapel, dedicated to St Edmund, King and Martyr,
stood on this spot before the year 1250 ; but it was rebuilt and
aisles were added by the Abbot and monks of Buckfast in the
beginning of the fifteenth century. In the south transept of
the present church are remains of early English work, and the
font is Early English. Hagioscopes slant through the chancel
walls from the aisle on either side. The very unusual name of
a benefactress must be noticed — Tryphena Tobys.
141

Devon [ch. viii
Dodbrooke is joined so closely to Kingsbridge that their streets
run into each other, and they are separated only by small streams
now partly covered in. It would be almost impossible for a
stranger wandering about to say offhand which town he was in.
Dodbrooke is really the older of the two. A grant to hold a
market was made to Alan Fitz-Roald, in or possibly just before
the year 1256. About this time a serious quarrel occurred, when
' Henry Fitz-Alan impleaded Matthew Fitz-John, with forty
others, for throwing down a pillory in Dodbrooke. Forty seems a
good many against the pillory ! But the affair was not one of those
cases in which a spark causes a fire, but was rather an outburst of
flame in a long-smouldering feud between the Fitz-Alans and the
Lords of Stokenham over the manor of Dodbrooke. In the end,
the Fitz-Alans triumphed.
Three hundred years later we find the people of Dodbrooke com
plaining of the heavy contributions that they were called on to
make towards furnishing ' ships of war '; for after the Armada had
been defeated the means of defence on these coasts were for some
years kept up to a very high standard. Mr Richard Champer
nowne, — who, it must be admitted, from the general tenor of his
ways, seems to have been one of those well-meaning but egotistical
and meddlesome people who are always being surprised and hurt
because their good offices are not better received, — wrote to the
local authorities as follows :
' Cousin Cary, and the rest of the Commissioners for the ship
causes, I have received some grievous complaints of some poor
men who are taxed in Dodbrook to this, more than all their goods
are worth. . . . Surely, as the country must bitterly speak
against those [who] are procurors and assistants in this country,
so would it be as highly disliked both of her Majesty as of the
Lords, if they knew rightly of whom, and on what sort, this tax is
levied.' But, alas ! a severe snub was the result of this appeal, and the
unhappy Mr Cary must have deeply regretted that he had oblig
ingly forwarded the grievance to the Lords of the Council.
Their answer ran : ' The Court. . . . The Council to George
142

ch. viii] Kingsbridge, Salcombe, South Hams
Carey, J. P. . . .' They learn by his late letter that the county is
unwilling to contribute the charges imposed upon it for ' setting
out ships, etc' It is paid cheerfully by other counties, and he is
desired to return the names of those persons who are obstinate in
refusing payment.
There is no building of special interest excepting the church,
which is dedicated to St Thomas a Becket. The arches dividing
the aisles from the nave are high and rather pointed, giving an
impression of loftiness. There is a beautiful carved screen, with
painted figures on the panels ; and the font is a very early one.
Of the infants baptized in it, one at least obtained a rather un
enviable celebrity — Dr John Wolcot, better known as ' Peter
Pindar.' His bitter satires earned for him a harvest of hatred and
abuse, but nobody denied his wit. ' There is a pretty story of
the older Pindar that a swarm of bees lighted on his cradle in his
infancy and left honey on his lips ; but we fear in the case of our
hero they were wasps that came, and that they left some of the
caustic venom of their stings.' A surgeon's son, he studied
medicine himself, but was unpopular with his patients for the
reason that his ideas were too far ahead of his time. His opinion
that " a physician can do little more than watch Dame Nature, and
give her a shove in the back when he sees her inclined to do right,'
was considered a shocking heresy, and, no doubt, a confession of
his own ignorance.
Before leaving Dodbrooke, mention must be made of the
' white ale ' peculiar to the place — a compound of malt, hops,
and flour, fermented with an ingredient called ' grout.' Some of
the statements about this ale show the curious tendency of tradi
tions to transfer themselves from points in the nebulous past to
points that are just beyond the range of living memory. It is
difficult to discover when 'white ale' was first made, but the general
idea is that it was invented a very long time ago, though personally
I have not been able to find any indisputable reference to it
earlier than in the edition of Camden's \'\ Britannia ' published in
1720, where there is a brief notice that the people of Dodbrooke
pay tithes in white ale to the Rector. A will dated 1528, however,
143

Devon [ch. viii
gives directions in regard to a gift that was to include ' cakes,
wine, and ale,' and it has been supposed that the particular kind
made in this town would be the ale here referred to. Yet I was
told by an inhabitant of the neighbourhood who was a good deal
interested in local traditions, that it was introduced by the French
doctor of the prisoners of war at Kingsbridge Barracks, for the
benefit of those who found themselves ill at ease in this climate
— an event that could not possibly have taken place till the very
end of the eighteenth century.
There is a charm over all this country, not solely due to its
beauty. It is true that it is rather drowsy, that the ' spell of the
briar-rose ' in part lies over it, but it may be that this adds to
the charm. There is an absence of competition, an air of plenty
and of kindness, a golden glamour that gives the impression that
Nature has told the people theirs is a generous portion, and they
may sit still and be content. And they are content.
There is such an overbrimming wealth of bushes and plants and
flowers on every side, that the fact of the water in the estuary being
salt scarcely seems to prevent their growing in it ! Along the bank
washed by the flowing tide, and almost touching the masses of
tough golden-brown seaweed on the rocks, are multitudes of the
daisy-flowers of sea-mayweed, flowering samphire, the stars of
sow-thistle, and bright yellow bunches of charlock and straggling
spires of wild-mignonette, against a darker background of black
thorn, hawthorn, ivy, and furze, lightly powdered with trails of
bramble-blossom. Creeks, edged with low hills, wind away from
the estuary. When the tide is low, great stretches of mud and
sand lie on either side, and here may be seen black cormorants
and crowds and crowds of gulls, here and there a heron, and
quantities of smaller birds. The scene changes entirely at the
mouth of the creek, for here the banks rise into high rugged cliffs,
and the water frets restlessly over sunken rocks.
Salcombe is a tiny little town, with steep, narrow streets and
high-walled gardens on each side of the close lane that ends the
principal street ; and between the gardens the air is fragrant with
sweet clematis, that, as well as red valerian, tumbles in clusters
144

ch. viii] Kingsbridge, Salcombe, South Hams
over the walls. Salcombe has a very good claim to remem
brance, for on a peninsular rock at the mouth of the harbour
stand the ruins of a fortress that held out for King Charles later
than any other place in Devonshire. It was defended by Sir
Edward Fortescue, and surrendered only on May 7, 1646.
On the opposite side of the estuary, high on the cliffs, lies the
small village of Portlemouth. The cross-shaped church is dedi
cated to a Celtic saint, St Winwaloe, locally called St Onolaus.
A proverb without much point (probably only the fragment of a
more coherent saying) mentions St Winwaloe amongst several
saints whose days fall on windy dates.
' First comes David, next comes Chad,
And then comes Winneral, as though he were mad,
White or black,
On old house thack [thatch].'
[St David's Day, March 1 ; St Chad's Day, March 2 ; St Winwaloe's Day,
March 3.]
In his church here is a very finely carved screen, and of one of
the figures on it Mr Baring-Gould tells an amusing story : ' The
sixth is Sir John Schorne, a Buckinghamshire rector, who died in
1308, and was supposed to have conjured the devil into a boot.
He was venerated greatly as a patron against ague and the gout.
There is a jingle relative to him :
' " To Maister John Schorne, that blessed man born,
For the ague to him we apply,
Which judgeth with a bote ; I beshrew his heart's rote
That will trust him, and it be I." '
South of Portlemouth the land ends in the grand headland of
Prawle Point, the most southerly point in Devon. Prawle Point
is very striking, and is ' principally composed of gneiss rock, which
on the western side is weathered like a surface of snow which
has been exposed to the sun's rays. It is everywhere broken
into crags.' Prawle Point — ' Prol in Anglia ' — was known to
foreigners for many centuries ; and Mr R. J. King, in an admirable
article on Devonshire, says that it ' is mentioned by an ancient
commentator on Adam of Bremen's " Historia Ecclesiastica,"
145 K

Devon [ch. viii
as one of the stations at which vessels touched on their voyage
from Ripa in Denmark. The passage was made from the
" Sincfala," near Bruges, and " the station beyond '|Prol ' " is
St Matthieu — one day's sail. Adam of Bremen dates about 1070,
and his commentator a little later.'* St Matthieu is in Brittany.
To the south of Salcombe rise the great cliffs of Bolt Head, and
a few miles farther to the west is Bolt Tail. Mr Norway points
out that ' no other town in South Devon possesses, nor, indeed,
more than one or two on any coast, a headland so high and dark
and jagged as the entrance to the harbour. It is wild and rugged
like a Cornish headland, and the walk across it to Bolt Tail is the
finest between Portland and the Lizard.' A few miles to the west
is Thurlestone, and all about here the coast is most dangerous. A
ship flung in a storm towards the shore has no chance on the jagged
rocks that spur-like, jut out from the cliffs, and the tide races in
shore with terrific power, even when it is not driven by a wild
south-westerly wind. This part of the coast was naturally a
happy hunting-ground for smugglers, and was not altogether inno
cent of wreckers. A fearful wreck that happened in 1772 is still
remembered. A large vessel — the Chantiloupe, from the West
Indies — went ashore in Bigbury Bay. All the passengers but one
were drowned, and over the death of a lady there hangs a terrible
doubt. On realizing the desperate plight of the ship, she had
hurriedly dressed herself in her most beautiful clothes and jewels,
no doubt hoping that, as they were so close to land, there was a
good chance of escape. She was, indeed, thrown up on the beach,
but, it is to be hoped, already dead, for, with shocking callousness,
the people watching there snatched away all her valuables and
left her lying there. An account of the wreck, written in 1874,
tells that at that date a lady living near the bay still had a corner
of the victim's apron, a very beautifully embroidered bit of
fine muslin. The unfortunate passenger's name was never
really known, but rumour has always connected her with Edmund
Burke ; for it is certain that he feared some relatives or friends
of his were on that ship, and on hearing of the wreck he came
* ' Sketches and Studies.'
146

ch. viii] Kingsbridge, Salcombe, South Hams
down and investigated the matter of the lady's death himself.
But he could get no information. The account of the wreck goes
on to quote the views of a man who lived near the spot : ' The old
man who seemed to know most about it said : " The lady was
a-murdered, he believed ; Jan Whiddon's father's dog found this
here lady buried in the sand, he scratched up her hand." ' The
story is quoted at some length, and is characteristic of a Devon
shire countryman's combined caution and sense of fate, for it
finished : ' " 'Twas never found out who murdered her . . . but all
who were concerned in it, or supposed to be [the villagers obviously
believed three men to be guilty] came to a bad end." '
In repeating these stories, I feel rather in fault, for I have
listened to, and been impressed by, the views of a native of these
parts, who was extremely severe on anyone that wrote about
wreckers and reflected discredit on this coast, giving the idea that
' we robbed and murdered people.' A little to my surprise, he
said he liked reading books about Devonshire, and admired some
well-known novels deahng with the county, though he thought
them quite inaccurate. ' But,' he added tolerantly, ' they say
that, to get at the truth from a guide-book, you must divide what
you read in three, and then take away half.' He admitted, all
the same, that there had been a certain amount of wrecking
in the days of the pirates (smugglers ?), and putting lights in
the wrong places. When he was a boy, what they liked best was
a wreck with a ' general ' cargo, so that the men could sell the
mineral and the wives could wear the silk ; but there were fewer
wrecks of any kind nowadays. It is very quiet in the winter (east
of Kingsbridge), unless anyone is going to be buried, and the only
other chances of any stir are if there is a wedding or a christening,
or a wreck in Start Bay.
Thurlestone takes its name from a ' thirled ' or pierced rock, on
the shore through which the waves have drilled an arch. The
rector of Thurlestone has very kindly allowed me to make some
extracts from a manuscript history of the parish in his possession,
the earlier notes of which have been taken from entries made at the
time of the events, in the Bishop of Exeter's registers, and have,
147 k 2

Devon [ch. viii
therefore, the value of contemporary evidence. They are very
interesting, as giving glimpses at the course of events in a remote
parish through several centuries.
During part of the fourteenth century the parishioners seem
to have been rather turbulent and the history tells of storms.
Some while before the first entry, in June, 1328, someone had not
only been murdered, but actually done to death within the church.
There is no record of the punishment of the culprit or culprits,
or of any sign of penitence shown by the parish ; but probably
some steps had been taken, for at that date Bishop Grandisson
commissioned the Archdeacon of Totnes to reconcile the parish
church of Thurlestone, ' which had been polluted by the shedding
of blood therein. For some reason not given the Archdeacon was
excused from performing this duty, and Stephen Abbot of Buck-
fast was commissioned to officiate. . . . On the 8th of the Kalends
of August, 1328, the Bishop issued his mandate to the Archdeacon.
of Totnes, informing him that the Abbot, having proceeded to
Thurlestone, had reconciled the church, and that he was to re
quire the Parishioners to pay the customary dues within eight
days of the serving of this Monition to that effect.' The dues,
however, were not forthcoming, and on October 6 the Bishop, who
allowed no insubordination, threatened the defaulters with ex
communication unless they paid the desired amount within six
days. ' This had the desired effect, and on the 20th of October the
Bishop sent to the Rector and the parishioners the formal acquit
tance. On the same day, he commissioned Sir Robert de Pynho,
the Rector, to absolve the parishioners and relax the interdict
imposed on their Parish Church.'
An unpleasant experience of Sir Henry Benet, priest and Canon
of the Church of Crediton, and Rector of Thurlestone, witnesses to
the lawlessness of the time in East Devon. He was ' peaceably
entering the town of St Mary [Ottery St Mary] on Tuesday Inertia
feria) of the then instant Pentecost Sunday,' when ' certain unknown
persons, sons of perdition . . . under colour of a precept which they
falsely asserted they had received from the Sheriff of Devon, rushed
on Sir Henry and . . . rashly, violently and sacrilegiously laid hands
148

ch. viii] Kingsbridge, Salcombe, South Hams
on him and inhumanly forced him into the public prison for thieves
and criminals.' A ' Denuntiation of Excommunication ' against
these ' sons of perdition ' in Bishop Grandisson's register is un
dated, but it follows an entry made in March, 1349-50.
A later rector must have been a pleasant acquaintance and a
good friend. The Rev. John Snell ' was a person of firm and un
shaken loyalty,' and when ' Fort-Charles ' was about to be be
sieged, he joined the garrison in order to give all the help he could
to Sir Edward Fortescue. On the surrender of the fort, amongst
the very honourable conditions that Sir Edward obtained was the
agreement that Mr Snell ' should be allowed the quiet possession
of his Parsonage ; but Articles, like oaths, in those days, were only
matter of Form, and accordingly (about the year 1646) he was
soon after plundered of his cattle and other goods without-doors,
and several times forced to fly for his life.' Later, his lot was made
still harder by the confiscation of his living, which he did not regain
until after the Restoration. In the old parish register is a note,
probably interpolated by John Snell when he had returned to his
living, and with outraged feelings had been looking at the volume,
and reading the entry referring to the appointment of a lay regis
trar in his parish. The registrars elected in 1653 were not only
given charge of the parish registers, but took another office out
of the hands of the clergy. No marriage might take place without
the registrar's certificate that he had called the banns. The couple
then took the certificate to the nearest magistrate, who, after
hearing each of them repeat a brief formula, was authorized to
declare them legally married.
Mr Snell's exclamation of distress appears under a notice which
' certyfyed John Calder (?) of the parish of Thurelston to bee
Register of the sayde Parish,' and was signed by ' Will Bastard,'
and dated ' September 20th, 1653.' Above and below the date
is written : ' Monstrum horrendum informe.
[This is ye Houre and Ye]
Anno Dom. 1653.
[Power of darkness.]'
149

Devon [ch. viii
On Mr Snell's tombstone is a long Latin epitaph, from an
English version of which the following lines are taken :
' He was the silent storehouse of the poor,
The dear delight of those who needed nought,
To all the pattern of a holy life.'
The Thurlestone chronicle records a certain number of beliefs
and charms, and on one of them the present rector makes a note
of peculiar interest : ' The Bishop of Malborough [Dr Earle, then
Vicar of West Alvington and Malborough] tells me that his curate,
the Rev. Robert Hole, South Huish, saw this charm used success
fully to stop blood on a man called James Pierie.
' A CURE FOR STAUNCHING BLOOD.
' Jesus was born in Bethlehem.
The water was wild in the wood.
He spake the word and it stood,
And so will ( — 's — 's) blood,'
' In the nameof the Father, and of the Son, and of the HolyGhost. Amen.
' Used by Betty Edgecombe, white witch of Malborough and West
Alvington.' Not far from Thurlestone was another parson who worked
hard to embarrass the besiegers of the Royalists in Salcombe
Castle, and who had his share of thrilling adventures. Mr Lane
was the rector of Aveton Giffard, a parish at the head of the
estuary of the Avon, which opens into Bigbury Bay. When the
war broke out he took an active part, in conjunction with several
gentlemen in the neighbourhood, in ' raising Succours for his
Majesty.' And at the same time he began to make a ' Fort on
a Hill ' (part of the Glebe), which commanded the bridge
over the Avon, crossed by Parliamentary troops marching
to the siege of the Castle. Meanwhile, soldiers from Plymouth
came up in boats, plundered the house, and took, says Mr. Lane's
youngest son, ' Two of my brethren, Richard and John, not giving
them time to put on their stockings, and forced them to carry
what of the Goods they could to Awmar (a creek), where they
150

ch. viii] Kingsbridge, Salcombe, South Hams
carried off Stolen Sheep and Plundered Goods with my two
eldest brothers. When the war was ended the triumphant Par
liamentarians attempted to revenge themselves on their sturdy
enemy, and searched the country for ' Bishop Lane, the Tray tor,'
who was driven to hide in his church tower. For three or four
months his people secretly brought him food, and he was then
able to make his escape, and in the end reached France in safety.
If the traveller returns to Prawle Point, and then follows the
coast towards Dartmouth, he will soon come to the ridge of
Start Point, which ' stretches boldly to sea, sloped on each side
like the roof of a house, and crowned along its entire length by
fanciful crags, strangely weathered and shaggy with moss.'
Round the Point at a certain state of every tide there is a formid
able tide-race, and always a swell so strong as to make small boats
very careful of the weather before they try to sail round the Start.
Dartmouth lies almost due north, and the coast-line between is
very lovely, though it has not the impressiveness of the cliffs
farther west. Slapton Sands are over two miles long, and the
hills stand back far enough from the shore to leave room for Slap-
ton Lea, a fresh-water lake, almost smothered with tall, feathery
reeds and rushes in the summer, separated from the sea by a
barrier of pebbles. The line of these wooded hills is broken by
three little valleys, and down each one flows a brook that feeds the
Lea. At the southern edge is Tor Cross, a handful of cottages under
the shadow of a cliff that shuts away the shore-line to the south.
The long stretch of sands is delightful. They are dotted all
over with the glaucous leaves and brilliant flowers of the yellow-
horned poppy, and bristling blue viper's bugloss, and on the in
land edge there is a scattered border of the rest-harrow's pink
butterfly blossoms. The short turf beyond is sprinkled with the
little white bladder campion and thrift and many other flowers.
At the northern end of the sands the road turns inland, and
presently comes to Blackpool, very small, but one of the most
perfect of miniature bays. The cliffs are ' of various colours and
very lustrous,' and almost on the brink the road winds its way
amongst woods of firs and pines that seem to breathe out a pecu-
I5i

Devon [ch. viii
liarly spice-like sweetness. When I saw it the sea was like
molten silver, for the sunlight poured on it from beyond clouds,
and the sun itself was not to be seen. But though this bay
looks as if it had fallen from a poet's dream, it has been the
scene of many stern events and disasters ; for ships have mistaken
the inlet for Dartmouth Harbour, with lamentable results. Many
a time, too, it has been used by those who knew the coast well,
but had their own reasons for wishing to land without attracting
notice, for it is quite cut off by the shoulder of the hill from Dart
mouth, and is near no other town.
In Queen Mary's reign the secret landing of doubtful characters
was a danger that had to be diligently guarded against, and
the Lords of the Council received an agitated letter from
Sir John St Leger on this subject just after the flight of Sir Peter
Carew. Sir Peter had a castle and many friends at Dartmouth, and
Sir John quotes him as often having said that if he were the King's
enemy he could take ' Dartmouth Castle ' and ' burne the Towne
with fewer than a hundred persons and lett ynto the haven suche
as pleased hym. I, also, am creadeably informed the way howe he
should be able to do so. That within a myle, or les, of the said
Towne, there is a very good open place called Black poole, for the
queene's enemyes to lande, and invade, and from thense may
come to the saide towne from the back side.'
But when Queen Elizabeth came to the throne, and Sir Peter
was reinstated and held in great honour, the coast was still
far from safe, and there is a letter written by the Queen in 1564
to her ' Right Trustie and wel-beloved ' Sir Peter, commission
ing him to get ready and arm two ships, that, as the ' cost
of Devonshyre and Cornwall is by reput much harted with
pyrattes and Rovers,' so he should repress and, as far as possible,
capture them. Twenty-four years later a far more serious danger
threatened, and the preparations against the Spanish Armada
were very elaborate. Masses of the most stringent orders are
still preserved amongst the House of Lords manuscripts, and to
quote a few wfll give an idea of their nature and scope.
On July 11, 1588, it was ordered : ' That all persons of what
152

ch. viii] Kingsbridge, Salcombe, South Hams
degree soever . . . whose armour and furniture shall not be found
serviceable, for the first offence shall be put into the stocks one
whole day, publicly ; and for the second offence to the gaol for
ten days,' etc. Careful instructions are sent as to the choice of
watchmen for the beacons and their duties ; and a brief note
refers to a letter written by the Council to Sir Walter Raleigh, then
Warden of the Stannaries, demanding the muster-rolls of the
tinners, both horse and foot, ' who poured to war ' as well from
Dartmoor's as from ' Mendip's sunless caves.'
After the Armada had been defeated, there were fears of another
Spanish invasion, and in January, 1595-96, news came to the
Deputy-Lieutenants and Justices of the Peace of Devon that
' The Queen has found it convenient to have her navy and certain
companies of Soldiers for land-service in readiness to be victualled'
with all possible speed ' for her service . . . 400 quarters of wheat,
200 oxen, and 200 flitches of bacon are required from Devon
shire.' There are notices, too, respecting such gentlemen as ' have been
charged with light horses and petronels,' and of the particular
divisions of coast apportioned to each. For instance, in a certifi
cate dated June 25, 1596, it is stated that ' Mr Seymour's colonel-
ship reacheth from Plymouth to Dartmouth. Mr Cary's from
Dartmouth to Exmouth. Sir Thomas Dennis from Exmouth to
Axmouth. ' And, going into particulars : ' For Salcomb, Mr Wil
liam Courtenay with the assistance of the constable and other
officers there. . . . Long Sands [Slapton] and Black pool to be de
fended by Mr Ameredith and Mr Roope.' The notice continues to
give an exact list of the places next one another along the coast, the
names of the officers and numbers of men appointed to defend
each. In spite of all that was done, in the summer of 1598 the Lords of
the Council were dissatisfied, and wrote to the Lord-Lieutenant to
complain of ' the number of horse, which we think to be very few
in that country in regard to the largeness and wealth of the same.'
But- the people in the county looked at the matter in a different
light, and in the following April, at a meeting in Exeter, it was
153

Devon [ch. viii
resolved that a letter should be written to the Lords of the Council
to convey ' the desire of the country ' to be freed from a certain
' contribution ' wherewith they find themselves much burdened
and grieved in respect of the manifold impositions daily coming
upon them.'
Demands and complaints seem to have been bandied back
wards and forwards for some time afterwards, for in 1600 there
came this brief but alarming note from the Lords of the Council :
' June 23, Greenwich. — The composition money for Devonshire,
though the whole amounts but to £113 6s. 8d., remains partly un
paid ; we have therefore sent down a messenger to bring before us
all those who remain in arrear.'
Fortunately, the period of acute alarm had now passed away,
and the train-bands were dismissed, so that the burden of levying
contributions must for a while have been lightened.

154

THE TAMAR, NEAR SALTASH

CHAPTER IX
The Three Towns
' Upon the British coast what ship yet ever came.
That not of Plymouth hears, where those brave navies lie,
From cannons thund'ring throats that all the world defy ?
Which to invasive spoil, when th' English list to draw,
Have check' d Iberia's pride, and held her oft in awe :
Oft furnishing our dames with India's rar'st devices,
And lent us gold and pearl, rich silks and dainty spices.'
Drayton : Poly-olbion.
' ¦ "^ E patient, I beseech you, I am in a labyrinth, where I
L^find many ways to proceed, but not one to come forth.'
1 J Such is Westcote's plea while attempting to describe
""^^"^ Plymouth, and it may be echoed from the heart by
anyone who is in the same perplexing position. The words so
exactly sum up the difficulty. One is bewildered by the multi
tude of associations thronging on every side in a town in which,
unlike other West Country ports, the pulse of life throbs as strongly
as it did in the centuries long gone by. ' The sea-front of Ply
mouth,' says Mr Norway, ' is the most interesting spot within
the British Empire, if not also the most beautiful. It is a large
claim, but who can deny it ?'
No one who has not studied the history of the Three Towns
can realize how keenly Plymouth has been affected by every
declaration of war or peace that this country has known — at
latest, since the reign of Edward I — nor how vividly its victories
and disasters have been brought home to the people. The number
of fleets that have returned to this port in triumph, or sometimes
in humiliation, and the succession of ever-famous expeditions
that have sailed from the Sound, must continually have carried
their thoughts across the seas, and prevented petty local affairs
from bounding their horizon. The old chronicles seem to show
that stirring events perpetually1? followed each other at short
155

Devon [ch. ix
intervals, and when no great expedition was occupying men's
minds, there were usually plenty of adventurous spirits to provide
excitement — privateers, such as those who took service with the
Prince of Conde, and searched the Channel for Roman Catholic
ships, and others, ready for ' semi-piratical ventures.' There were
also moments when Plymouth was the victim, and in dread
watched for the Turkish and Algerine pirates who were known
to be hovering near, and were making raids in the neighbourhood.
Plymouth seems to keep a peculiarly strong hold on the
affections of her sons, no matter how far or wide they wander,
and it is said that the city ' has given its name to more towns
than any other town or city in the world. There are seventeen
Aberdeens outside Scotland. There are twenty-nine Londons, but
forty Plymouths.'
From the Hoe, one point after another that catches the eye
suggests a fresh train of ideas. To the east is Sutton Pool, with
its coasting vessels and fishing-boats ; south, across the Catte-
water, lies Mount Batten, whose round tower recalls the long and
resolute defence of the town in the Civil War. Still farther south
are the high grounds of Plymstock and Bovisand, with their
modern fortifications ; to the north stretches the town and far
in the distance the heights of Dartmoor ; and to the south-west,
over the Cornish border, lies beautiful Mount Edgcumbe, which
' so affected the Duke of Medina-Sidonia,' Fuller tells us, ' (though
but beholding it at a distance from the Sea), that he resolved it
for his own possession in the partage of this kingdom (blame him
not if choosing best for himself), which they had preconquered in
their hopes and expectation.' Mr Norway sketches the view in
rapid touches : ' The Sound lies veiled in a thin blue mist, behind
which a hot sun beats, scattering it gradually with the aid of a
stiff breeze off the land. But it hangs around Mount Edgcumbe
on the right, where the grey towers of the mansion stand in
shadow among dark woods, while on the summit of the hill above
the green fields catch the sunlight. A little lower, Drake's Island
lies impalpable and dim amid the mist which sweeps so softly
round the forts and the green grassy slopes as to touch it all with
156

ch. ix] The Three Towns
mystery one moment, while the next it is bright again with sun
light, sparkling amid the dazzling sea. Within the breakwater
the sea is alive with craft.'
The little island in the Sound has been transferred from patron
to patron. Originally called after St Michael, to whom its chapel
was dedicated, the name was changed to that of St Nicholas,
the patron saint of mariners, and eventually the island was re
named in honour of Plymouth's greatest hero. The chapel had
been destroyed before Drake's day at the bidding of the Privy
Council, and fortifications were reluctantly built upon it by the
Mayor and Corporation, the Council ' mervelinge of their un-
willingnesse to proceede in the fortefynge of St Michaell's Chapele
to be made a Bulwarke.'
Plymouth is not rich in old buildings. The Citadel was rebuilt
in the reign of Charles II, and the new Guildhall is little over
thirty years old. St Andrew's, a large Perpendicular building
with a fine tower, is the only old church, but it stands on the site
of a much older one — the church of the Augustinians of Plympton
Priory. Really, neither Stonehouse nor Devonport has any history.
In the reign of Henry III, Stonehouse consisted of the dwelling
of Joel de Stonehouse, who at that time owned the manor, and
it is only comparatively lately, since it has been transformed into
a huge naval storehouse, and the great Marine Barracks have
been built, that it has become of importance.
Devonport, looking over the broad glittering waters of Hamoaze,
was till the year 1824 known only as Dock, or Plymouth Dock.
Charles II planned a dockyard here, but the work of making it
was not begun until the reign of William and Mary.
The very early history of Plymouth is not specially interesting
to anyone who cares over-much for sober fact ; but looking at it
in the generous spirit of the ancient chroniclers, and not stickling
over probabilities, the story of the first great event in Plymouth
is almost as fine as the traditions of Totnes itself. Giants, we all
know, flourished in Cornwall, and soon after the arrival of the
Trojans — about 1200 B.C. — they made a furious onslaught upon
157

Devon [ch. ix
the invaders, but were defeated after a desperate battle. The
crowning struggle between Goemagot (the name afterwards turned
into Gogmagog), chief of the giants, and Corinaeus the Trojan,
took place in Plymouth Hoe, as Drayton's vigorous lines declare :
' Upon that loftie place at Plimmouth called the Hoe,
Those mightie Wrastlers met, with many an irefull looke
Who threatned, as the one hold of the other tooke :
But, grappled, glowing fire shines in their sparkling eyes.
And whilst at length of arme one from the other lyes,
Their lusty sinewes swell like cables, as they strive :
Their feet such trampling make, as though they forc't to drive
A thunder out of earth ; which staggered with the weight :
Thus, either sat most force urg'd to the greatest height.'
A memorial of this terrific conflict, ' the portraiture of two men
of the largest volume,' was cut in the turf on the Hoe at an early
date, and was only destroyed when the Citadel was built about 1671.
In the Domesday Book Plymouth appears as the Manor of
Sutton, and this was later on divided into three separate
portions — Sutton Valletort or Vautier, Sutton Prior, and Sutton
Raf. The village of Sutton Valletort was ' the germ of ancient
Plymouth.' Sutton was given by Henry I to Reginald de Valle
tort, who bestowed lavish gifts on the monastery at Plympton ;
and as his example was followed by his successors, the title of
the second portion of the manor is easily accounted for. The
whole place was dominated by the Valletorts and the Priors, but
the power of the monks increased steadily, till, at an inquisition
held in 1281, ' it was presented that the Ville of Sutton belonged
to the Prior of Plympton, with assize of bread and beer, and this
right was allowed.' Sutton was now becoming a flourishing
town, and some years later the King made inquiries about his
property in it, for the burgesses had petitioned that some waste
land might be granted them at a yearly rent. To this ' the Prior
and the Valletorts declared that the town was wholly theirs, and
none of the King's,' and the dispute was followed by a series of
efforts, on the part of the townspeople, to free themselves from
the rule of the Priors — efforts which succeeded each other, at no
long intervals, through the next hundred and twenty years.
158

ch. ix] The Three Towns
As time went on, the Crown gradually granted rights to the
burgesses, and increased their responsibilities, till in 1439 an
Act of Parliament was passed incorporating the three Suttons
as a free borough, with one Mayor, and the manorial rights of
the Priory were ceded to the Mayor and Corporation, who paid
to the Priory a fixed yearly sum in compensation. The name
Plymouth, which had been used in speaking of the port, was now
formally adopted for the whole town.
From the ' mene thing, as an inhabitation for Fischars,' that
Leland says it was in the reign of Henry II, the town grew rapidly,
and before the end of the thirteenth century it was represented
in Parliament. In 1287, for the first time on record, the splendid
harbour was officially recognized as a grand rendezvous, and three
hundred and twenty-five vessels gathered here before sailing for
Guienne under the command of the King's brother. Half a century
later, orders were sent that men and ships should be collected at
Plymouth to escort Princess Johanna, the King's daughter, to
Gascony, and escorts for various Princes had to be provided on
several occasions. The Black Prince was kept by contrary winds
in the port for forty days, when he was on his way to France
to fight the ' glorious battell at Poictiers.' In the early part of
the fifteenth century Plymouth suffered severely from the attacks
of the French and Bretons, and in 1403 the Bretons, under the
Sieur du Chastel, burned six hundred houses in the part since
called Briton Side. The name became gradually transformed
into ' Burton,' but the memory of the raid survived so far,
Mr Worth tells us, as to enable the boys who lived in the Old
Town to taunt the ' Burton boys ' during the wars with France,
by reminding them of the harm that the French had done to their
quarter. On Freedom Day, a ' local Saturnalia kept as such from the
earliest times,' one of the features was the fighting between the
Old Town and Burton boys for a barrel of beer, provided by the
Mayor. Long after this custom had been dropped, the recollection
of it was revived by the sign of a public-house, the Burton
Boys, though eventually the owner changed the sign to that
159

Devon [ch. ix
of the Black Lion, as he ' wished for some more peaceful
name ' !
Plymouth does not seem to have been much affected by the
Wars of the Roses, but Henry VII, as Earl of Richmond, '" while
he houered upon the coast,' came ashore at Cawsand, and here
' by stealth refreshed himselfe ; but being advertised of streight
watch, kept for his surprising at Plymouth, he richly rewarded his
hoste, hyed speedily a ship boord, and escaped happily to a
better fortune.'
The fisheries of the port are old and important. The earliest
grant now to be traced, made by Reginald de Valletort to Plympton
Priory, was that of all his fishing rights in Tamar and Lynher — a
privilege which Mr Worth thinks was probably bestowed ' not
long after the manor passed into the , hands of the Valletort
family.' In 1384 Parliament decreed that all fish caught in the
waters of Sutton, Plymouth, and Tamar should be displayed for
sale in Plymouth and Aish [Saltash] only, which sounds as if
Plymouth were already jealous of other fish-markets, as was
certainly the case later on. During parts of the sixteenth century
the industry flagged, and in Henry VIII's reign a royal proclama
tion ordered abstinence from flesh on Saturdays as well as Fridays,
with the frank explanation that this was ' not only for health and
discipline, but for the benefit of the Commonwealth, and profit of
the fishing trade.' In Queen Elizabeth's reign matters were still
worse, for the eating of fish had now come to be a badge of religious
opinions, and ' " to detest fish " in all shapes and forms had
become a note of Protestantism.'
And not only had the demand for fish lessened, but the fisheries
had fallen into the hands of foreigners. The Yarmouth waters were
' occupied by Flemings and Frenchmen,' ' the narrow seas by the
French,' ' the western fishing for hake and pilchard by a great
navy of French within kenning of the Enghsh shores,' and Scots
and Spaniards fished other parts of the coasts. Cecil, who was
anxious for greater reasons, to find ' means to encourage
mariners,' set to work to revive the English fishing-trade, and with
great difficulty succeeded in carrying a Bill through the House of
160

ch. ix] The Three Towns
Commons, making ' the eating of flesh on Fridays and Saturdays a
misdemeanour, punishable by a fine of three pounds or three
months' imprisonment, and as if this was not enough, adding
Wednesday as a subsidiary half-fish day.'
About this time Plymouth tried to rid itself of at least one
branch of foreign competition by appealing to the Privy Council to
forbid ' the exportation of pilchards, save in ships of Devon and
Cornwall, because " divers ships and mariners lye idle without
employment within our harbour," while foreign ships were con
tinually employed.' Pilchards were a very important item, and
many regulations were made in reference to them. One order,
dated 1565-66, gives a good example of Plymouth's views of free
trade. It ran : ' That no ahen should lade or buy fresh pilchards
above the number of 1,000 in a day ; no man . . .'being free to buy
or sell above 5,000, unless the fish " were in danger of perishing." '
The business of curing fish was a large one and very jealously
guarded. At the British Museum, among the Lansdowne manu
scripts, is a letter to Lord Burghley from Mr Richard Browne,
showing that this subject was sometimes the source of friction
between the citizens themselves. It begins :
' My honorable good Lord, as I have ben always most bound
vnto yor ho., so I humbly besech you to stand my good Lord.'
The letter goes on to explain that the writer had been granted a
' pattent for salting, drying, and packing of fishe in the counties
of Devon and Cornwall,' but letters from the Privy Council had
caused the ' staie thereof.' These letters were apparently inspired
by the complaint to the Council of ' marchants,' who were injured
because the terms of the ' pattent ' laid down ' that the inhabit
ants should be servid before the marchents, paying nothing unto
me for it,' as he adds in a slightly aggrieved manner. The writer
begs that these terms may be altered, and the only conditions
should be those affecting such fish ' as shuld be transported in con-
syderacon of the Quene's Majesty's right.' For, he pathetically
remarks, he has paid ' a great some of money ' for his privileges,
and still ' am bound to pay the rent into the exchequer,' although
not allowed to reap the benefit therefrom. Besides, great incon-
161 L

Devon [ch. ix
venience is caused by the suspension of his business, and letters of
complaint have been addressed to him from Devonshire and
Cornwall desiring ' yl he pforme his offer yl they may have fishe
for their owne provesion frely.'
It was the outburst of ventures of every description, with all
their different aims — ventures of soldiers, explorers, privateers,
and merchants — in the reign of Queen Elizabeth that brought
Plymouth to its greatest glory. In the interval between William
Hawkins' first voyage to the South Seas — about 1528 — and 1601,
when Captain William Parker sailed to Panama and took Porto
Bello, Plymouth was the starting-point of forty voyages, every
one of which is historical. Mr Worth gives the exact date of each,
and the names of the commanders. ' Here,' says Carew, ' mostly
have the troops of adventurers made their Rendezvous for at
tempting new discoueries or inhabitances.' And Westcote, in the
reign of James I, writes : ' Whatever show it makes in description,
it is far larger in fame, and known to the farthest and most remote
parts of the world.' In Camden's opinion, this great reputation
was won ' less by the convenience of the harbour, as for the valour
and worth of the Inhabitants,' and the worthies of Plymouth are
indeed beyond number. Among the comparatively few whose
names have not been lost, there stands out conspicuously
Sir William Wilford, who after a French invasion returned the
charge by swooping down on Brittany, where he ' made them
to pay, besides costs and charges, more than sixfold damages.' And
Captain Cocke, a ' Cock of the Game indeed,' according to Fuller ;
' A Volanteer in his own ship,' he went out against the Armada, and
' lost his life tos ave his Queen and Countrey.' Then there is Cock-
rem, who sailed with William Hawkins, and was left alone among
the Brazilians as a hostage for one of the ' Savage Kings ' Hawkins
brought back with him — but, as Mr Norway says, ' Plymouth has
too many heroes ; in the crowd the faces of all but one or two are
blurred.' For three generations the Hawkinses were ' the master spirits '
of Plymouth, and of them all Sir John Hawkins was the most
famous. His character was a curious medley of incongruous
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ch. ix] The Three Towns
features, bluff straightforwardness and crooked diplomacy, faith
ful affection — such as his bold schemes to help his captured com
rades proved — balanced by a hard indifference that ignored the
misery of the wretched negroes he sold to West Indian planters.
Pluck and daring were the only qualities he showed consistently
from first to last. His zeal in slave-hunting, repulsive to us, is
excused by Froude on the ground that ' negro slavery in theory
was an invention of philanthropy.' Labourers were a necessity
for the Spanish colonist, ' the proud and melancholy Indian pined
like an eagle in captivity, refused to accept his servitude, and
died ; the more tractable negro would domesticate like the horse
or the ass.' Though Hawkins met with much good as well as bad
luck, he was one of those who have need to remember that fate
does not shower favours on all men, but ' if a man look sharply
and attentively, he shall see Fortune ; for though she be blind, yet
she is not invisible,' and his success was to a very great extent due
to his stout heart and quick discernment. These qualities stood
him in good stead at San Juan de Ulloa, when his few ships were
overwhelmed by a much larger fleet. ' The name of Hawkins
was so terrible that the Spaniards dared not give him
warning that he was to be attacked ;' but mounted their
batteries in the dark, and from land and sea ' every gun which
could be brought to bear ' opened upon the unprepared English.
After sinking two Spanish ships and setting a third on fire,
Hawkins saw that flight was their only chance, and, gathering his
men together in two small tenders, he ' crawled out under the fire
of the mole and gained the open sea.' The position of affairs was
dispiriting in the extreme. Many men and three good ships were
lost, besides treasure worth more than a million pounds, that had
been won, by running innumerable dangers, during the past year.
His ships were overcrowded, the store of food and water was
scanty, and no harbour west of the Atlantic was open to them.
Under the weight of adversity, Hawkins offered ' a lesson for all
time on the use of bravado, the crowning grace of every leader
who does not seek it at the cost of better things.'
' When the Minion stood off,' says Hortop, who wrote the tale
163 l 2

Devon [ch. ix
on his return to England, ' our generall courageously cheered up
his soldiers and gunners, and called to Samuel his page for a cup
of beer, who brought it to him in a silver cup. And he, drinking
to all the men, willed the gunners to stand to their ordnance lustily
like men. He had no sooner set the cup out of his hand, but a
demi-culverin shot struck away the cup and a cooper's plane that
stood by the mainmast and ran out on the other side of the
ship, which nothing dismayed our generall, for he ceased not to en
courage us, saying, " Fear nothing : for God who hath preserved me
from this shot will also deliver us from these traitors and villains." '
Hawkins is chiefly known by his voyages and enterprises, and
all that he did for his country by monotonous hard work is not
so often remembered. For twenty-one years he ' toiled terribly '
as Treasurer of the Queen's Marine Causes and ComptroUer of
the Navy, and when the ships were sent out to meet the Armada
they were ' in such condition, hull, rigging, spars, and running
rope, that they had no match in the world either for speed,
safety, or endurance.'
There is no space here to speak of Sir John's father, ' the
pioneer of English adventure in the South Seas,' who made three
famous voyages to Brazil, and laid a good foundation for future
traffic in that he ' behaved wisely ' to the natives ; nor to do more
than glance at the ventures of Sir John's son, Sir Richard Hawkins,
the 'Complete Seaman,' whose ' high-spirited actions, had they
been all duly recorded (as pity it is, they were not),' says Prince,
' would have made a large volume in themselves.' Sir Richard re
discovered the Falkland Isles, and passed the Straits of Magellan.
His fleet was reduced to a single vessel, and he had taken five
richly laden ships, when ' the King of Spain's vice-roy in those
parts ' sent ' eight ships to intercept him. Sir Richard Hawkins
held the fight for three days, with but three score and fifteen men
and boys, against thirteen hundred of the enemy, and those the
choice of Peru.' In the end, being ' dangerously wounded in six
several places,' and with many of his crew killed or wounded, he
was forced to surrender upon ' honourable articles of life and
liberty,' which, however, were not observed, and he was sent to
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ch. ix] The Three Towns
Spain, where for long years he remained a prisoner. Sir Richard
left an account of his ' Voyage to the South Sea ' — a ' record of
misfortune, but of misfortune which did no dishonour to him
who sank under it ; and there is a melancholy dignity in the
style in which Hawkins tells his story, which seems to say that
... he respects himself still for the heart with which he endured
a shame which would have broken a smaller man.' A second
William Hawkins, Sir John's brother, commanded a Huguenot
vessel under the commission of the Prince of Conde ; and yet
another William of a younger generation went as ambassador of
the East India Company to the Great Mogul, and succeeded in
setting up a trading station at Surat.
Every Plymouth hero, however, is eclipsed by Sir Francis Drake,
who is always counted their chief, though he was born near Tavi
stock. ' Could my pen as ably describe his worth as my heart
prompteth to it, I would make this day-star appear at noon-day
as doth the full moon at midnight,' is Risdon's ecstatic exclamation.
When all his grand qualities and successes have been contem
plated, it is still rather surprising to find the extraordinary im
pression he created in that epoch of heroic enterprise. The stories
of magic that have clustered round his name witness to his
wonderful personality, for naturally they are much more significant
than those that have been woven around the older heroes of a
more superstitious, less civilized age. These legends must have
been handed down to generation after generation, for, writing
about 1835, Mrs Bray mentions that the peasantry near Tavistock
still talked of the ' old warrior,' as they called him. To choose one
or two at random, there is the story that once, after he had been
away for a very long time, his wife supposed him to be dead, and
thought that she was free to marry again. A spirit whispered the
news to Sir Francis, who was at the Antipodes. At once he fired a
great cannon-ball, ' so truly aimed that it shot up right through
the globe, forced its way into the church, and fell with a loud
explosion between the lady and her intended bridegroom. " It is
the signal of Drake !" she exclaimed. " He is alive, and I am still
a wife. There must be neither troth nor ring between thee and
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Devon [ch. ix
me." ' Another story tells that after he had finished the ever-
famous game of bowls on Plymouth Hoe, which was interrupted by
tidings of the Armada, Sir Francis cut up a block of wood, and
flung the chips into the sea, when every ship became a fire-ship,
and the enemy's fleet was really destroyed because of the ' irresist-
able strength of those vessels that he had called up to " flame
amazement " on the foes of Elizabeth and of England.'
When the citizens of Plymouth wanted a more abundant supply
of water, they appealed to Drake, and he was ready to help them.
' So he called for his horse, mounted, rode to Dartmoor, and
hunted about till he found a very fine spring. Having fixed on one
that would suit his purpose, he gave a smart lash to his horse's
side, pronouncing as he did so some magical words, when off went
the animal as fast as he could gallop, and the stream followed his
heels all the way into the town.' It is not possible here to pick
more legends from the group, excepting one which was certainly
told among the people a few years ago. Drake promised, they
said, that if ever the country were hard pressed by any foe, and his
countrymen should call him by striking his drum, he would hear
them, and come back and scatter the enemy.
Of Drake it has been said that ' his Puritanism went hand-in-
hand with his love of adventure. ' To sell negroes to the planters,
to kill Spaniards, to sack gold-ships, was in the young seaman's
mind the work of " the elect of God " '— a belief that no doubt
partly explains how the most desperate circumstances seemed
unable to teach him the meaning of fear. It is easy to under
stand how a leader who combined such glorious courage with
great unselfishness could take his men anywhere. On arriving
off the coast, on his first independent voyage to America, he
found this encouraging greeting — ' a plate of lead, fastened to a
very great tree,' engraved with a message which began :
' Captain Drake,
' If you fortune to come into this port, make haste away,
for the Spaniards which you had with you here last year have
betrayed this place.' 166

ch. ix] The Three Towns
The message was signed by Captain Garret of Plymouth.
Quite undismayed by the warning, Drake led his company to
Nombre de Dios, which they successfully attacked. ' Here he
received a dangerous wound ; though he valiantly concealed it a
long time, knowing if the general's heart stoops, the men's will
fall, and that if so bright an opportunity once setteth, it seldom
riseth again.' And he went forward till ' at the public treasury
they had discovered . . . bars of silver, piled up against the wall,
seventy foot in length, ten in breadth, and twelve in height . . .
withal telling them, " That he had brought them to the mouth
of the treasury of the world." ' But before much could be done
his strength failed and he fainted, when his followers became aware
of the wound that he had not mentioned, but from which he was
losing ' so much blood as filled his very footsteps in the sands.'
They were at once anxious to take him back to his ship ; Drake,
on recovering consciousness, being the only man who wished
them to persevere in their search for gold and jewels. But his
men ' added force to their entreaties, and so carried him to his
pinnace.' As soon as he was able, Drake started on fresh enterprises
with varying success, and after several months had passed on
returning laden with treasure to the point on the coast at which
he expected to meet his pinnaces, to his great dismay he found
none, but saw seven Spanish ships lying in the distance. The com
pany instantly fell into despair, convinced that their pinnaces
had been taken and the crews tortured, and that they themselves
were left alone in the midst of the enemy's country, from which
they could not escape. Drake's self-possession alone was unshaken,
and, after casting about for some way of reaching safety, he
noticed trees floating slowly down the river. With " the most con
fident and cheerful expression, he asked : " Who would accompany
him to sea on the raft he was about to form with those timbers ?" '
A sail was ' made of a bisket-sack/ and with ' an oar shaped out
of a young tree for a rudder,' they set out to sea, in danger of
being swamped by every wave, and often waist-deep in water.
After about six hours of extreme peril they sighted the pinnaces,
167

Devon [ch.ix
and in the end Drake succeeded in reaching them, and was able
to carry away the rest of his company and the treasure.
An incident that happened when Drake was taking leave of
some friendly negroes showed his generous disposition. ' Pedro,
... an eminent person among the Symerons, and one who had
been greatly serviceable to Captain Drake, had a great mind to
a rich cymeter the captain had, but was unwilling to ask it, lest
he should prize it also : which known, the captain freely presented
it to him. Who being willing to make a grateful return, desired
him to accept of four wedges of gold, as a pledge of his thanks :
whose importunity not being able to avoid, Captain Drake re
ceived them courteously, but threw them into the common stock,
saying, " That it was just that those who bore part of the charge
with him, in setting him to sea, should likewise enjoy their full
proportion of the advantage at his return." '
All Drake's voyages and adventures, however, did not prevent
him from keeping in touch with Plymouth and local interests.
In 1581 he was Mayor ; for four years he represented the borough
in Parliament, and he certainly did bring the citizens water from
Dartmoor, though at greater pains than in the fashion described
in the legend. In memory of this great service there is still an
annual ceremony called the Fishing Feast. The Mayor and
Corporation inspect the leat by which the water is brought to
Plymouth, attended by a huge crowd of spectators, and after
wards two toasts are drunk — one in water, to ' The pious memory
of Sir Francis Drake,' and the other in wine — ' May the descen
dants of him who brought us water never want wine.'
Plymouth townsfolk had every reason to be glad when the
Pelican sailed into the harbour after her voyage round the world,
for it was not only a national hero, but their own particular
countryman and good friend, that they hurried out to welcome.
Amongst ' Commendations by Principal Persons friendly to the
Author or the Work ' which preface a book written by Sir Hum
phrey Gilbert, are some lines by Sir Francis which are very ex
pressive of the views that seem to have guided his life. The book,
whose aim must have been to encourage the idea of settling in the
168

ch. ix] The Three Towns
new colony, is called ' A true Report of the late Discoveries and
Possession taken in the Right of the Crowne of Englande, of the
New found Landes.' I do not quote the whole poem :
' Who seekes by gaine and wealth to advance his house and blood,
Whose care is great, whose toile no less, whose hope is all for good,
If anie one there bee that covettes such a trade,
Lo heere the plot for commonwealth, and private gaine is made.
' He that for vertue's sake will venture farre and neere,
Whose zeale is strong, whose practize trueth, whose faith is void of feare,
If any such there bee, inflamed with holie care,
' Heere may hee finde a readie meane his purpose to declare,
So that for each degree this Treatise dooth unfolde
The path to fame, the proofe of zeale, and way to purchase golde.'
Drake's audacity was never more amazing than in the expedi
tion of 1587, when he sailed along the Spanish and Portuguese
coast, plundering and burning the ships in their own harbours.
His fearlessness filled the Spaniards with a very generous
admiration. ' So praised was Drake for his valour of them, that
were it not that he was a Lutheran, they said, there was not the
like man in the world.' Once, when the King invited a lady of the
Court to go in his barge on a lake near Madrid, ' the lady said she
dared not trust herself in the water even with his Majesty, lest Sir
Francis Drake should have her.' His name passed even into
nursery songs, and one of them has been translated as follows :
' My brother Don John
To England is gone,
To kill the Drake,
And the Queen to take,
And the heretics all to destroy ;
And he will give me,
When he comes back,
A Lutheran boy,
With a chain on his neck,
And our Lady Grandmama shall have
To wait upon her a Lutheran slave.'
It was about sixteen months later that Drake, amongst the
band of famous captains gathered at 'Plymouth, watched the long-
169

Devon [ch. ix
awaited Armada sailing in a great crescent up the Channel. The
English popular view of the invasion is, perhaps, reflected in a
ballad which was written soon after the event. It is called ' Sir
Francis Drake ; or, Eighty-eight.'
' In eyghtye-eyght, ere I was borne.
As I can well remember,
In August was a fleet prepared,
The moneth before September.
' Spayne, with Biscayne, Portugal!,
Toledo, and Granado,
All these did meet, and made a fleet,
And called it the Armado.
' When they had gott provision,
As mustard, pease, and bacon ;
Some say two shipps were full of whipps,
But I thinke they were mistaken.
' There was a little man of Spaine
That shott well in a gunn-a —
Don Pedro bright, as good a knight
As the knight of the sunn-a.
' King Phillip made him Admiral,
And charged him not to stay-a —
But to destroy both man and boy,
And then to runn away-a.
' The King of Spayne did freet amayne.
And to doe yet more harme-a,
He sent along to make him strong
The famous Prince of Parma.
When they had sayl'd along the seas,
And anchored uppon Dover,
Our Englishmen did board them then.
And cast the Spaniards over.
' Oure Queene was then att Tilbury ;
What could you more desire-a ?
For whose sweete sake Sir Francis Drake
Did sett them all on fyre-a.
' But let them look about themselfes ;
For if they come again-a.
They shall be served with that same sauce
As they were, I know when-a.'
170

DRAKES ISLAND, PLYMOUTH SOUND

ch. ix] The Three Towns
In 1595 Sir Francis and Sir John Hawkins started on that ill-
starred expedition to the West Indies, from which neither
returned. Sir Francis died, and was buried at sea.
' The waves became his winding-sheet, the waters were his tomb ;
But, for his fame, the ocean sea was not sufficient room.'
The translation of what Prince calls an ' ingenuous epigram '
written in Latin is beneath his portrait in the Guildhall :
' Sir Drake, whom well the world's end knew,
Which thou didst compasse round.
And whom both poles of Heaven one saw,
Which North and South doe bound :
The starrs above will make thee known,
If men here silent were ;
The Sunn himself cannot forget
His fellow Traveller.'
In 1606 the Plymouth Trading Company was granted its
charter. The Company was formed with the aim of planting
colonies in America but it was not a great success, and the ex
tortionate claims of the members to a monopoly of very important
privileges brought them into violent collision with the more
flourishing Massachusetts Company, as well as with owners of
certain fishing- vessels, whom they called ' interlopers.' The
company was eventually dissolved in 1635.
In 1620 there came into Plymouth Harbour that little band of
Puritans known to posterity as the Pilgrim Fathers. For the
sake of liberty of conscience they had been living for some years
at Leyden, and they had now resolved to take up a new life in
America. The start was not auspicious, for after leaving South
ampton they were forced to put into Dartmouth for repairs, and
were afterwards obliged to stop at Plymouth, where the Speedwell
was declared to be unseaworthy. Serious alterations of their plans
had to be made, but at last, ' all troubles being blown over,' the
travellers were ' compacted together in the one ship,' and on
September 6, 1620, ' thirteen years after the first colonization
of Virginia, two months before the concession of the grand charter
of Plymouth, without any warrant from the sovereign of England,
171

Devon [ch. ix
without any useful charter from a corporate body, the passengers
in the Mayflower set sail for a New World.'
King Charles and Queen Henrietta Maria paid a visit to the
town, to speed a fleet sent, with disastrous results, against Spain.
The expedition was in a miserable plight to begin with. For some
while before it was able to leave the country, a hungry penniless
army had been thrown upon the citizens of Plymouth. An
enormous debt had been created in equipping it, and the soldiers'
allowances were hopelessly inadequate to provide them with a
proper supply of food or clothes. ' A more ragged, ribald, and
rebellious herde never gathered on the eve of an important ex
pedition. Mutiny was common in the town, and the ringleaders
were tried at Drum-head, and shot in the nearest open space. . . .
Incensed at the disregard of their appeals, the publicans thrust
the soldiers to doors ; and the outcasts, turning highwaymen,
stole cattle and sheep with impunity, slew the animals, and cooked
the joints " in the open eye of the world," and sullenly vowed that
they would have " meat rather than famish." ' The fleet returned
some weeks later in shame and disgrace, and the state of the men
was even more miserable than when they started, for now the
plague was raging amongst them. ' There was neither " meat nor
drink available " ; such provisions as had been doled out were
often unfit for food, and " men die after eating them." ' Penning
ton, the Vice-Admiral at Plymouth, sent petition after petition
to the authorities for necessary supplies. ' Send the money, or it
will break my heart, for I am so followed about and called upon
that I know not what to do.' The misery was long drawn out, for
when the plague was at an end, and townspeople were able to
return to their homes, there was but a short respite before they
were again overwhelmed by a great number of undisciplined
soldiers, and ' no means of housing, feeding, or clothing them.'
Naturally, they helped themselves at the expense of the citizens.
' Haunted by the cries of my soldiers,' Sir Ferdinando Gorges, the
Governor, was reduced to distributing among them a cargo of oil
that had been captured, with the assertion that it was ' as healthy
as butter.' 172

ch. ix] The Three Towns
' Most despair here,' wrote Lord Holland briefly, and ' the
distress was so acute that the Mayor raised the standard of revolt.
The losses of the town had been calamitous — first at the hands of
pirates, next by collapse of trade, and finally by the billeting.'
No doubt Plymouth's consistent hostility to the King's party
throughout the war is in part explained by the results of this
wretched state of affairs, and by the persecution of their Vice-
Admiral, the heroic member for St Germans, Sir John Eliot.
As soon as the war broke out, Plymouth's sympathies were
plainly shown, and before long Sir Ralph Hopton made an attack
on the town. On December i, 1642, Royalists and Parliamen
tarians ' stood upon the Lary for the space of three hours ' facing
one another, but each too cautious to make the first move and
leave a point of vantage. The siege was seriously undertaken three
months later, when Hopton concentrated all his forces upon the
town. As Plymouth could always be supplied by sea, there was
no chance of its being starved into submission, and already it was
gravely doubted whether the town would ever be taken. By the
beginning of July nearly all the Royalist forces had been drawn
off, and Plymouth set to work with great energy to strengthen the
defences by building a new wall. Tradition says that even women
and children took a share in the work. In August an attack was
made by Colonel Digby, but the town was at this time threatened
by a greater danger — the treachery of Sir Alexander Carew,
commander of the Fort and of Drake's Island. ' He was
proved an Apostate,' says a contemporary account, ' and went
about to betray that island and the town of Plymouth into the
hands of Cornish cavaliers, but was prevented by the fidelity of
his honest soldiers.' Sir Alexander was arrested by order of the
Mayor, and sent to London, where eventually he was beheaded.
Prince Maurice marched on the town after he had taken Dart
mouth, and there followed three weeks of assaults and skirmishes,
much hard fighting, and many desperate struggles. In the end
the besiegers succeeded in capturing Mount Stamford, a fort on the
south of the Cattewater, " the first and only advantage gained by
the Royalists during the protracted and often revived siege.' An
173

Devon [ch. ix
invitation to surrender on lenient conditions made the towns
people waver, but the Governor, Colonel Wardlaw, stood firm.
All were ordered to take a solemn vow and covenant, which
pledged each one to take part in the defence ' to the utmost of my
power.' And the town, hitherto ' divided and heartless in its
defence, now grew to be united.'
On Sunday, December 3, there fell the Sabbath-day Fight, and
the most critical moments of the siege. Prince Maurice and ' all
the gallantry of his army ' threw their whole force against the
garrison, who advanced to meet them. ' The Roundheads were
outnumbered ten to one, and driven back in absolute rout for the
space of three fields.' Joined by a small number of reinforcements,
they rallied after an interval, and charged the enemy, who yielded.
The garrison pressed their advantage. ' The retreat, foUowed up,
became a rout,' and the acutest danger was past.
Not long afterwards the siege was raised for a time. The poor
people had suffered much from the scarcity of food, though once
they had been cheered by a wonderful supply. ' There came an
infinite number of pilchards into the harbour within the Barbican,
which the people took up with great ease in baskets, which did not
only refresh them for the present, but a great deal more were taken,
preserved and salted, whereby the poor got much money.' It was
not only by endurance that the women had shown their courage,
for in the midst of some of the engagements they had brought
out provisions ' for the refreshing of our soldiers, though many
women were shot through the clothes.'
Assaults, occasional sorties, and intervals of comparative peace
followed one another till, in September 1644, the King appeared
in person before the town, and tried first by force of arms and then
by offering very indulgent terms to bring about its surrender. The
answer to the King was not sent till the day after his summons had
been received, but ' if not speedy, it was decided — " Never." ' A
second futile assault was made by the Royalists, and then the
King and Prince Maurice with their troops, turned their backs on
Plymouth. For four months longer the blockade was continued,
and at the end of that time Sir Richard Grenville made a very
174

ch. ix] The Three Towns
determined effort, attacking at four points simultaneously. A
desperate struggle ensued in which he gained nothing and lost
three hundred men killed, and many hundreds wounded. Another
twelve months passed without any serious attempt to storm the
town, and in January, 1646, on Fairfax's advance upon Dartmouth
the siege was finally raised, the Royalists marching away in such
haste that guns, arms, and ammunition were left behind.
Charles II paid several visits to the town, and on one occasion
he attended the service at St Andrew's Church where a state
canopy and throne had been prepared for him and where sufferers
were brought to him to be ' touched for the king's evil.' A
ridiculous incident marked another visit. The Mayor, rather
agitated by the honour of entertaining the King, and anxious
to find the best means of giving him pleasure, had the happy
inspiration of inviting His Majesty to look at the outworks that
had protected Plymouth " in the time of the late war.' The
King's reply was ' on a sudden ' to walk to the landing-steps, get
into his pinnace, and start for Mount Edgcumbe. The Mayor
in great dismay, followed by the Aldermen, who had come in
their robes in state to attend on the King, hurried down to the
water's edge and taking possession of a wherry, they started off
as fast as they could in pursuit. It is satisfactory to know that
by the time they succeeded in catching up the King he had quite
recovered his usual good-humour.
Plymouth was to some degree affected by the Revocation of
the Edict of Nantes, for it had always been a refuge for the
Huguenots — the Rochellers, as they are often called in sixteenth-
century chronicles — and now many of them fled to this shelter.
The first party of about fifty people crossed the Channel in an
open boat, and their flight was followed by a great number of
refugees. These settled in the town, and many of their descendants
married English people, and the little colony became absorbed into
the general population. A curious glimpse of the original refugees
is given in a letter written in 1762 by Mr Pentecost Barker, of
Plymouth, to the Rev. Samuel Merivale. He says : ' Those, of
whom I remember many scores, who came from France in 1685-6,
175

Devon [ch. ix
etc., are mostly dead, and their offspring are more English than
French, and will go to the English Church, though some few may
come to us. What an alteration Time makes ! There was ... a
French Calvinist Church and a Church of England French Church
here, besides a Church at Stonehouse. Many women in wooden
shoes — very poor, but very industrious — living on limpets, snails,
garlick, and mushrooms.'
In the latter half of the eighteenth century Plymouth vibrated
with the excitement of fights and victories at sea, several engage
ments being fought at a short distance off the coast. Many
prizes and some of our own disabled ships were brought into the
harbour, ' dismasted and riddled French battleships,' sometimes
even with ' their decks blackened with powder and coursed by
the blood of the victims.' Unless the local annals are closely
studied, it is almost impossible to realize the rapid succession of
these events, and the effect they must have produced on the
townspeople. A sarcastic picture has been drawn of a student
attempting to work in the midst of the bursts of enthusiasm that
perpetually thrilled the town. He is first interrupted by ' a shout
in the street, and the servant rushed in to announce that the
enemy had landed,' and the Volunteers were going out to meet
them. The student, having disposed of this report, settles to
work again, when ' the strains of a soul-stirring march, with
abundant drum, were borne on the air, and the servant again
bounded into the room to proclaim the return of the — th Regi
ment, " with only 200 returned out of 600, sir, colours shot
through and through, poor fellows, all looking terribly tanned —
here they are, sir, just passing the door." The pageant is wit
nessed by the student, and as the tumult subsides he resumes his
scholarly pursuits. Soon a great gun shakes every window in
the house. " What can this mean ?" Enter Sam once more. "I
beg your pardon, sir, but they say a man-of-war's in the Sound,
bringing in two ships of the line, French prizes. All the people
are running to the Hoe, sir ; I hope you'll let me go." Down
goes the book once more, and the student is as mad as his neigh
bours as the victorious ship and her prizes, with the Jack flying
176

ch. ix] The Three Towns
triumphantly over the tricoloured flag, sails majestically into the
harbour amid deafening cheers. . . . Such was the average
Plymouth day.'
Several times the town was threatened by a French invasion
and badly scared, but the greatest fear was felt in 1779, when for
four days the united French and Spanish fleets lay off the Sound.
Plymouth had every reason to be afraid ; for, had the enemy but
known it, there were at that moment but two small armed vessels
to defend the harbour. Crowds of women and children left the
town in haste and confusion, thousands of country-people
tramped to the coast to have a look at the enemy. A few private
persons made single-handed efforts to strengthen the defences,
and a little later ' the bustle was again revived by the hourly
arrival of troops, baggage, waggons, and powder.'
It is said that in Totnes the saying, ' Going to Paignton to
meet the French,' is still a synonym for meeting trouble half
way. Amongst endless stories of fears and flights, there is one
of delightful imperturbability :
' One old sailor . . . had his wits about him, when his daughter
shook him out of a deep sleep with the news that the French had
landed. Rubbing his eyes, he told her to go and look at the
weather-cock. She came back, saying the wind was from the
north. " I thought so," said he, " and so it was yesterday. The
French can't land with this wind." And so the ancient mariner
turned round and went to sleep again.'
Alarms, suspense, and occasional ecstasies of triumph followed
one another till the final defeat of Napoleon. For several days
the Bellerophon actually lay in Plymouth Harbour, to the intense
excitement of the towns-people, who circled round the ship as
closely as might be in the hope of catching a glimpse of the captive
Emperor. To the north-east of Plymouth lies Saltram, the great house
and wide, beautiful grounds that belong to Lord Morley. Saltram
is in the parish of Plympton St Mary, once celebrated for the
large and important Priory which for some time governed
the affairs of Plymouth. Plympton St Mary is neighbour to the
177 M

Devon [ch. ix
parish of Plympton St Maurice and the little town of Plympton
Erie. On the north of the town are the ruins of the Norman castle
built chiefly by Richard de Redvers, and razed to the ground in
the reign of Stephen. It was rebuilt not long afterwards. A
fragment of a small keep is all that remains of the stonework, but
the Normans' castle was raised upon a fort that was standing
when they arrived, and ' the earthworks of the conquered are
more enduring than the stone defences of the conqueror.' The
mound on which the keep stands, and the banks that enclose a
base-court about seven hundred and ten feet long and three
hundred and eighty feet wide, have been little harmed or altered
and are still in a very perfect condition ; but the moat that once
surrounded them has been partly filled in.
The father of Sir Joshua Reynolds was master of the Grammar
School of Plympton Erie, and here the great painter was born. In
the crowded days of his middle life he gave a proof of his interest
in his native town by being its Mayor, and on his election pre
sented the town with his own portrait painted by himself. The
picture was hung in the Guildhall, and Sir Joshua asked the Re
corder of the borough to see that it was hung in a good position.
In his reply the Recorder paid a compliment whose full meaning
he did not grasp. He explained that ' he had seen to this, and the
portrait hung between old pictures of Ourry and Edgecumbe
which serve as foils, and set it off to great advantage. This
letter greatly amused Sir Joshua, who knew that these old
pictures were early works of his own.'

178

SRENT TOR. FROM LYDFORD MOORS

CHAPTER X
The Tamar and the Tavy
' Tavy creeps upon
The western vales of fertile Albion ;
Here dashes roughly on an aged rock,
That his intended passage doth up-lock ; . . .
Here digs a cave at some high mountain's foot,
There undermines an oak, tears up his root : . . .
As (woo'd by May's delights) I have been borne
To take the kind air of a wistful morn
Near Tavy's voiceful stream (to whom I owe
More strains than from my pipe can ever flow),
Here have I heard a sweet bird never lin*
To chide the river for his clam'rous din ; . . .
So numberless the songsters are that sing
In the sweet groves of that too-careless spring . . .
Among the rest a shepherd (though but young.
Yet hearten'd to his pipe), with all the skill
His few years could, began to fit his quill.
By Tavy's speedy stream he fed his flock.
Where when he sat to sport him on a rock,
The water-nymphs would often come unto him,
And for a dance with many gay gifts woo him.
Now posies of this flower, and then of that ;
Now with fine shells, then with a rushy hat,
With coral or red stones brought from the deep
To make him bracelets, or to mark his sheep.'
W. Browne : Britannia's Pastorals.
TAVISTOCK is a quiet little 'ancient borough,' which
at the first glance from the hill to the north-west
suggests the early-Victorian word 'embowered,' for it
looks as if the rudiments of the town had arisen
in the midst of a large wood. The town lies chiefly in a
hollow, and the trees that cover the sides surround and encroach
upon the streets in the pleasantest way, and their foliage, the hills
on every side, and the rushing Tavy through the midst, give an un-
* Cease. 179 M 2

Devon [ch. x
townlike air that is charming. But to imagine, from this rustic
and very still look, that the place lacked history, would be to
make a great mistake. On the contrary, its history starts in
such very early days that only a few scattered rehcs remain to
show the wave of human life that passed over the country.
Between a.d. 240 and the latter half of the sixth century,
the Irish made many invasions, overran the South and West
of England, and settled colonies in parts of Devon and Cornwall,
more especially along their northern coasts. Mr Baring-Gould, in
a most interesting paper, sketches out the various descents and
settlements, and traces them by their stone monuments and by
the names of the Irish saints that they left in churches and
villages and holy wells. Some of the invaders established them
selves near Tavistock, and tokens of them have been found in
the neighbourhood in the shape of three stones bearing inscrip
tions — one in Ogham characters. The stones are now in the
Vicarage garden. ' On one, which is over seven feet high, occurs
a name, probably of a Sept or tribe in Kerry, where several
stones inscribed with the same name are found. On the third
are the words : " Dobunii Fabri fili Enabarri. . . ." Dobun was
a fdber, or smith. In Celtic organizations every tuatha, or tribe,
had its chief smith. . . . Dobunii ... is the Latin for the geni
tive Douvinias, also a Kerry name. . . . Here, then, we have
written and engraven in stone for our learning the record of an
Irish settlement from Kerry in the neighbourhood of Tavi
stock.' Mr Baring-Gould further mentions briefly the different tribes
and peoples that have invaded and possessed themselves of the
land, to be in turn conquered by new-comers, and the eventual
amalgamation of races, and quotes Professor Sullivan to the dis
comfiture of those who rhapsodize over the ' pure Celt ' in Great
Britain or Ireland — for, after all, it was Irish colonists and
conquerors who ' gave their name to Scotland, and at one time
occupied the coast of Wales and ' West Domnonia.'
Professor Sullivan writes : ' The Irish tenants of to-day are
composed of the descendants of Firbolgs and other British and
180

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
Belgic races ; Milesians . . . Gauls, Norwegians, Anglo-Saxons,
Anglo-Normans, and English. . . . This is a fact which should
be remembered by those who theorize over the qualities of the
" pure Celt," whoever they may be.' There are many amateurs
whose views would be less tedious if they could be convinced by
Professor Sullivan.
The memory of one Irish saint clung for centuries to Tavistock,
for the abbey was dedicated jointly to St Mary the Holy Virgin,
and to St Rumon, an Irish missionary who came over to Corn
wall. The abbey has unfortunately been totally destroyed,
and various buildings now stand on its site. The old chapter
house was pulled down by a certain Saunders, ' of barbarous
memory,' ' to make way for a modern house now called the Bed
ford Hotel.' The refectory is used as a Unitarian chapel, and still
keeps its fine pinnacled porch. A ruined tower covered with ivy,
called Betsy Grimbal's Tower (a young woman was supposed to
have been murdered in it), stands in grounds close by, and the
other chief fragments still to be seen are the monks' still-house, a
little bit of the abbey church wall, and the remains of a battle-
mented wall following the line of the river. The north gateway is
the most perfect remnant and that has been restored. Of the
religious houses in the Diocese of Exeter this monastery was the
most important, and it eclipsed them all by ' the extent, conveni
ence, and magnificence of its buildings.' Orgar, Earl of Devon,
founded it in 961, and Ordulph, his son, completed it on such a
grand scale, that there was room for one thousand inhabitants.
The abbey had only stood for about thirty years, when a fright
ful blow fell : the Danes burst upon the country, harrying it
with fire and sword. They landed in Cornwall, and here Egbert
hastened with his army and defeated them at Hingston Down ;
but a great horde broke away, and crossing the border
descended on Tavistock, where the inhabitants in a body rose
to meet them and a terrible battle was fought. Its deadly
nature is summed up with great directness in an old jingle :
' The blood which flowed down West Street
Would heave a stone a pound weight.'
l8l

Devon [ch. x
The abbey was robbed and then burned to the ground. No
time, however, can have been lost in rebuilding it, for about thirty
years later Livingus, the Abbot, was made Bishop of Devonshire,
and was specially chosen by King Canute to accompany him on
his pilgrimage to Rome.
Tavistock was a Benedictine monastery, over which forty
abbots ruled in succession. Some of the later ones were noted
for their lack of discipline — even to the point of allowing the
monks ' to affect the fashionable costume of the times, adopting
the secular buttoned hoods and beaked boots '; but the earlier
abbots were both pious and learned, and one of the earliest
printing-presses set up in England was owned by the abbey.
The first statutes of the stannaries that ever were printed were
printed here : a ' Confirmation of the Charter perteynynge to all
the tynners wythyn the couty of Devonshyre wyth their Statutes
also made at Crockeryntorre by the whole asset and coset of al the
sayd tynners ' — of the date 1510. In very early days the abbots
were ' lessees of the Devonshire stannaries . . . and controllers
of the issues of royal mines in Devon and part of Cornwall/ says
Dr. Oliver.
At the Dissolution the King presented the abbey and most of
its estates to the Earl of Bedford. The first trace of this
great family in Devonshire that I have been able to find is a
lawsuit in regard to certain lands, between John Russell and
Rohesia his wife and Henry de Pomeroy, which took place in
the reign of King John. But there was a much closer connec
tion with the county in later days. Unfortunately, space makes
it impossible to touch on more than a few of the most striking
events in the career of John Russell, first Earl of Bedford, to
whom the Abbey was granted.
On January 11, 1506, the Archduke Philip of Austria was driven
by a violent storm to take shelter at Weymouth, where Sir
Thomas Trenchard, Governor of the Coast, hurried to receive him,
and to offer such entertainment as he could provide. It so hap
pened that there was staying with Sir Thomas a young cousin
lately returned from his travels, who combined great ' skill in
182

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
foreign languages . . . with his sprightly conversation and polite
address.' The Archduke was enchanted to find someone better ac
quainted with his speech and customs than the stay-at-home
squires who surrounded him, and when he set out for Windsor he
would not leave Mr Russell behind. To the King the Archduke
praised his protege in glowing words, and he was given a small
post at Court. Nature had favoured him at the start, for he is
said to have been of ' a moving beauty that . . . exacted a liking if
not a love from all that saw him,' and to this valuable gift
was added that of a ' learned discourse and generous deport
ment.' On the accession of Henry VIII, he won the good-will of the
young King by the zeal with which he threw himself into ' the
dance, the Masque, the pagent, the tourney,' in which Henry him
self delighted ; and he soon had a chance for distinguishing himself
in serious matters. In 15 13 he accompanied the King in his cam
paign in France, and on the march an unusually large cannon
was ' overturned in a lagoon. . . . Impatient to signalise himself
by some intrepid exploit, Mr Russell had the boldness to attempt
its recovery, in the face of ten thousand French,' and ' with but
two hundred and fifty adventurers under him as resolute as him
self, he succeeded in the effort.'
In 15 17 Mr Russell was appointed Deputy-Governor of Tournay ;
in 1532 he was knighted after taking part in a descent on the
coast of Brittany, and in later years he rose to positions of great
and greater importance. When Henry was supporting the Con
stable de Bourbon against his Sovereign, Francis I, Sir John was
entrusted with the dangerous mission of conveying a huge sum of
money through a country where many were well affected to the
French King.
One of his first steps was to leave his company at a town on the
frontier with orders to spread the news that he was ill, whilst he
hastened without escort and with the money — Henry had prom
ised the Duke de Bourbon 100,000 crowns a month — to Geneva.
Here he heard the comforting news that the Swiss and Frenchmen
were so certain of robbing him that they had already ' lotted
183

Devon [ch. x
every of the captains his portion of the said money.' With great
speed and secrecy he caused it to be ' packed in bales, trussed with
baggage, as oats or old clothes, to make it bulky, and nicked with
a merchant's mark.' As a further precaution he begged the help
of the Duke of Savoy, who eventually allowed muleteers in his
service to hire mules as if for his own use to take it across the
mountains, and ' so bruit it to be carried as his stuff unto the
Duchess his wife.' Arrived at Chambery, the secret of the bales
was allowed to leak a very little, and Sir John, knowing that there
were ' divers ambushes and enterprises set for to attrap me,' set
out again with his bales towards Geneva. Out of sight of the
town he altered his course for Mont Cenis. And this expedient
was in itself a blind, for two or three days before Sir John's de
parture the treasure had been sent very secretly on other mules
to Turin, where it arrived safely. He finishes his account with
conscious simplicity : ' Which ways was occasion, as I think the
said enterprises to fail of their purpose.'
Sir John met with many very exciting adventures, of which
perhaps the most interesting is one that happened to him at
Bologna, for here he was very skilfully rescued from an un
pleasant position by the great Thomas Cromwell, then a practically
unknown soldier. Sir John was passing through the town, when
he was very treacherously stopped and surrounded in his hotel
by the municipal authorities. Cromwell managed to persuade
them that he was a Neapolitan acquaintance of Sir John, and that
if he might speak to him he would be able to induce the knight
to surrender himself into their hands. But what he actually did
was to suggest to Sir John that he should change clothes with a
servant that Cromwell had brought with him, and in this disguise
he helped him to escape from the town.
When Cromwell came to England, it was Sir John who first
commended him to Wolsey's notice.
In the reign of Charles I, William, Lord Russell (afterwards
Earl of Bedford), and Pym, the great commoner, were returned
together as co-members for Tavistock; and when war was declared
the Earl of Bedford sided with the Parliament and was appointed
184

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
to raise the Devonshire Militia for them. He was not personally
hostile to the King but thought, like others, that if Charles
saw the Parliament in arms against him, he would realize that
the nation was resolute in defence of its liberty. The Earl of
Bedford, at the head of his recruits, engaged the enemy near
Sherborne Castle, and was victorious ; and at the battle of Edge
Hill he ' was reported by Lord Wharton to have done extra
ordinary service.' Later he was among those most anxious
for a treaty of peace, but he suffered from holding too moderate
views. In taking up arms against the King he had offended
the Queen too bitterly to be well received when he, in company
with some other peers, went to the Court at Oxford, and his
sympathy with the King alienated him from the Parliament.
Sincerely anxious for peace, he soon saw the hopelessness of all
efforts in that direction, and long before the struggle was over he
practically withdrew from public affairs.
Tavistock's greatest glory, Sir Francis Drake, has already been
spoken of ; but among the lesser lights is a Captain fully worthy
to have sailed in the company of Queen Elizabeth's illustrious
Captains, though he lived in the less triumphant days of Charles I.
Captain Richard Peeke, or Peke, or Pike (he signs himself Peeke
in his pamphlet, but in a private letter Dr. Meddus, a contem
porary, refers to him as Pike), has left no account of his career,
only that of his great adventure in Spain.
A local schoolmaster hails him with these flamboyant lines :
' Search whither can be found again the like
For noble prowess to our Tav'stock Pike, —
In whose renowned, never-dying name
Live England's honour and the Spaniard's shame.'
In 1625 Peeke joined the force that King Charles and
Queen Henrietta helped to start from Plymouth. Sir Edward
Cecil was in command, and, as a result of this expedition,
earned for himself the nickname of Sit-Still. Peeke's account
is excellent, although he begins by saying that he knows not
' the fine Phrases of Silken Courtiers '; but ' a good Shippe I
185

Devon [ch. x
know and a poore Cabbin and the language of a Cannon ... as my
Breeding has bin Rough (scorning Delicacy) so must my Writings
be.'
The first attack was made on ' Cales ' (Cadiz), and Peeke gives
a vivid description of the hot and stubborn fight that took place.
before the fort of Puntal surrendered. The whole army was then
landed, but Peeke did not go with them ; ' for I was no Land
Soldier, and therefore all that while kept aboard.' As the fate of
the expedition has nothing to do with his story, it is enough to
say that the men got very much out of hand, the Commander, in
great alarm, hurriedly retreated, and, without attempting to
follow up his victory on land, set sail in pursuit of a Spanish fleet
that he never came up with, and three weeks later returned in
disgrace to England.
To return to Richard Peeke. After the army had all landed he
thought that ' the late storms had beaten all the Spaniards in '
for a time, and that he would go on shore for a little diversion.
Meeting some Englishmen coming back to the ships, laden with
" Oranges and Lymons ' which they had taken from some gardens
not far off, he set off to find some fruit for himself, the men
assuring him that there was no danger. Less than a mile away,
however, he came, ' (for all their talking of no danger), on Three
Englishmen starke dead, being slayne, lying in the way,' and
another " not fully dead. ... I then resolved (and was about it) for
Christian Charities sake, and for Countries sake, to have carried
him on my back to our Shippes, farre off though they lay. . . . But
my good intents were prevented ; for, on a sodaine, came rushing
in vpon me a Spanish Horseman, whose name as afterwards I was
informed was Don Juan of Cales, a Knight. . . . Five or sixe
Skirmishes wee had, and for a pretty while fought off and on.'
As the fight went on Peeke got the better of Don Juan, who ' fell on
his knees and crying out in French to me, Pardone moy, je vous
pree. Je suie un buon Chrestien. . . . Having a Soldier's minde to
Rifle him, I searched for jewels, but found only five Pieces of Eight
about him.' Here Fortune turned, for ' fourteen Spanish Mus-
kateers, spying me so busy about one of their Countreymen,'
186

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
came to his rescue, and Peeke was forced to yield himself prisoner.
' True Valour (I see) goes not aluaies in good Cloathes, for Don
Juan (when my hands were in a manner bound behind me) . . .
wounded me through the Face, from Eare to Eare, and had there
killed me, had not the fourteen Muskateers rescued me from his
Rage.' Peeke was again severely wounded while being led through
the streets of Cadiz, but met with better treatment in prison,
though his forebodings were gloomy. And when he was soon
afterwards sent for by the Governor to Xeres, he went ' wondrous
unwilling . . . because I feared I should ther be put to Tortures.'
On the day of trial he was brought before a great assembly of
nobles, ' my sword lying before them on the table. It was reached
to me ; I tooke it and embraced it in mine arms, and with teares in
my eyes kist the Pommel of it. He [the Duke of Medina] then de
manded how many men I had kild with that Weapon ? I told him,
if I had kild one, I had not bene there now before that Princely
Assembly, for when I had him at my foote, begging for mercy, I
gave him Life, yet he then very poorely did me a mischiefe. Then
they asked Don John (my Prisoner) what Woundes I gave him ;
He sayd, None : Upon this he was rebuked and told, that if upon
our first Encounter, he had run me through, it had been a faire and
Noble Triumph ; but so to wound me, being in the hands of others,
they held it Base.' Peake was now questioned as to the name of his
ship, the Captain, and the number of cannon on board. ' I sayd,
forty Peices. But the Lords, looking all this while on a Paper
which they held in their hands, Duke Medyna sayd, In their note
there was but thirty-eight.' He afterwards found that in that
paper they had every detail about ' our Shippes, their Burden,
Men ... as perfect as wee ourselves had them in England. Of what
strength (quoth another Duke) is the Fort of Plymouth ? I
answered, very Strong. What Ordnance in it ? Fifty, sayd I.
That is not so, sayd he, there is but seuenteene. How many
Soldiers are in the Fort ? I answered, Two hundred : That is not
so (quoth a Conde), there is but twenty.
' Marquesse Alquenezes asked me, of what strength the little
187

Devon [ch. x
Island was before Plymouth. I told him, I know not ; Then
(quoth he), wee doe.
' Is Plymouth a Walled Towne ? Yes, my Lords. And a good
Wall ? Yes, say I, a very good Wall : True, sayd a Duke, to leape
ouer with a Staffe. And hath the Towne, sayd the Duke of
Medyna, strong Gates ? Yes. But, quoth he, there were neither
Wood nor Iron to those Gates, but two dayes before your Fleete
came away.' Among many other questions, they asked why ' in
all this Brauery of the Fleete the English had not taken Cales as
well as Puntal ?' To which Peeke, who must have often asked this
question of himself, replied boldly that ' the Lord Generall . . .
was loath to rob an Almeshouse, hauing a better Market to goe
to. Cales, I told them, was held Poore, unmanned, unmunitioned.
What better market ? sayd Medyna. I told him Genoa or
Lisbon.' All around stood the ' Common People,' who made the
ordeal still harder by ' many jeerings, mockings, scornes, and
bitter jests ' against the English, ' which I must not so much as
bite my lippe against, but with an inforced patient care stood still.
. . . Amongst many other raproches and spightfull Names, one of
the Spaniards called English Men Gallinas (Hennes) . This amused
the ' Great Lords,' and one of them asked the prisoner if the
Spaniards, when they came to England (in war), would prove
such hens as the English. To which Peeke answered, ' somewhat
emboldned by his merry countenance,' that they would prove
chickens. ' Darst thou then (quoth Duke of Medyna, with a
browe half angry) fight with one of these Spanish Pullets ? 0
my Lord ! sayd I, I am a Prisoner, and my life at stake, and
therefore dare not be so bold as to adventure upon any such
Action, . . . Yet . . . with all told him, he was unworthy of
the Name of an English Man, that should refuse to fight with
one Man of any Nation whatsoever. Hereupon my Shackells were
knockt off and my Iron Ring and Chayne taken from my
Neck.' The first challenger was quickly disposed of. ' I was then de
manded, If I durst Fight against an other ? I told them my
188

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
heart was good to adventure ; but I humbly requested them to
giue me pardon if I refused. For to my selfe I too well knew that
the Spaniard is Haughty, Impatient of the least affront : And
when he received but a touch of any Dishonour, Disgrace or
Blemish (especially in his owne Countrey, and from an English
man) his Revenge is implacable, mortall and bloudy.
' Yet being by the Noblemen pressed agen and agen to try my
Fortune with an other, I (seeing my Life was in the Lyon's paw,
to struggle with whome for safety there was no way but one, and
being afrayd to displease them) sayd : That if their Graces and
Greatnesses would giue me leave to play at mine owne Countrey
Weapon called the Quarter Staffe, I was then ready there an
Oposite, against any Commer.' When a ' hansome and well
Spirited Spaniard steps foorth, with his Rapier and Poniard,'
Peeke explained that he ' made little account of that One to play
with, and should shew them no Sport.
' Then a second (Arm'd as before) presents himselfe ; I de
manded if there would come no more ? The Dukes asked, how
many I desired ? I told them, any number under sixe. Which
resolution of mine, they smiling at, in a kind of scorne, held it not
Manly ... to worry one Man with a Multitude.
' Now Gentlemen, if here you condemne me for plucking (with
mine owne hands) such an assured danger upon mine head :
Accept of these Reasons for excuse.
' To dye, I thought it most certaine, but to dye basely, I would
not : For Three to kill One had bin to mee no Dishonour ; To
them (Weapons considered) no Glory : An Honourable Subjection
I esteemed better, than an Ignoble conquest. . . . Only Heaven I
had in mine eye, the Honor of my Country in my heart, my Fame
at the Stake, my Life on a narrow Bridge, and death before and
behind me.'
With a supreme effort Peeke succeeded in killing one of his
opponents and disabling the other two. Then for a moment he
feared the threatening anger of the crowd, but the nobles showed
great generosity in their admiration of his pluck, whether they
felt mortified or not, and he was treated with extreme kindness,
189

Devon [ch. x
both^then and afterwards. He ' was kept in the Marquesse
Alquenezes House, who one day . . . desired I would sing. I
willing to obey him (whose goodnesse I had tasted), did so, and
sung this Psalme : When as we sate in Babylon, etc. The meaning
of which being told he saide to me, English Man, comfort thyself,
for thou art in no Captivity.'
Peeke was then sent to the King of Spain, who tried to keep him
in his service, but with a becoming gratitude for the favours
shown to him, Peeke begged to be allowed to return home, ' being
a Subject onely to the King of England.' Whereupon the King very
magnanimously gave ' one hundred Pistoletts to beare my charges.'
A play has been written called ' Dick of Devonshire,' in which
the adventures of ' Dick Pike ' are set in the midst of a Spanish
tragi-comedy. Nothing is known of Peeke's life after he came back to his
own country, but there are strong reasons for believing that he
returned to Tavistock. And if it was himself, and not a name
sake, who flourished there, in 1638, our hero might be seen in an
entirely new role, for that year Richard Peeke filled the peaceful
office of people's churchwarden !
Tavistock's fine church is dedicated to St Eustachius, and it has
a high battlemented tower crowned with slender pinnacles. The
tower is ' pierced with arches in all four sides, so that it stands on
piers. It is thus a true campanile, and was never joined to the
church.' There are monuments to several families in the nave and
chancel, and stories and memories crowd especially round two of
them. One is the tomb of John Fitz of Fitz-ford and his wife, at
the back of which their son Sir John kneels at a desk with a book
before him.
Fitzford House is close to Tavistock, and with the property
came to Sir John's daughter, Lady Howard, round whose name
many tales have gathered. In Mrs Bray's time Lady Howard was
regarded as ' a female Bluebeard,' but a later verdict is more
charitable, and it is now thought that the unhappy lady has been
much maligned. Being a great heiress, her hand was disposed of
when she was only twelve years old, and she was married to Sir
190

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
Alan Percy, who died three years afterwards. There is a
proverb — ' Winter-time for shoeing,
Peascod-time for wooing ;'
but Lady Howard must have been wooed at all seasons. One
month after her husband's death she escaped from her chaperon,
and secretly married Lord Darcy's son, who only survived a few
months. When she was hardly sixteen, she found a third husband in
Sir Charles Howard, by whose name she is always known, although
after his death she married Sir Richard Grenville. Her last ' ven
ture,' as Prince calls it, was a very wretched one ; Sir Richard
treated her abominably, and she retaliated to the worst of her
power. After her death, Mrs Bray says (in that delightful store
house of local traditions, ' The Borders of the Tamar and the
Tavy '), there arose a belief that she was ' doomed to run in
the shape of a hound from the gateway of Fitzford to Okehampton
Park, between the hours of midnight and cock-crowing, and to
return with a single blade of grass in her mouth whence she
started ; and this she was to do till every blade was picked, when
the world would be at an end.'
' Dr Jago, the clergyman of Milton Abbot, however, told me
that occasionally she was said to ride in a coach of bones up the
West Street towards the Moor. . . . My husband can remember
that, when a boy, it was a common saying with the gentry at a
party, " It is growing late ; let us be gone, or we shall meet Lady
Howard as she starts from Fitzford." '
A still more conspicuous monument in the church is connected
with the other tragedy. The family of Glanvills had long been
settled near Tavistock, and the figure is of Judge Glanvill in his
robes. At his feet kneels a life-size figure of his wife. ' Her buck
ram waist, like armour, sleeves, ruff, and farthingale are all mon
strous ; and her double-linked gold chains are grand enough for
the Lord Mayor. On the whole she looks so very formidable, that
thus seen stationed before the Judge, she might be considered
as representing Justice herself, but it would be in her severest
mood.' 191

Devon [ch. x
The mournful story is that of another member of'the family,
Eulalia Glanvill, who was forced against her will to'marry an old
man named Page, when she was in love with a young^man, George
Strangwich. After much misery, she and Strangwich agreed to
murder Page, and the story is told in several ballads, in one of
which there is a ring of sincerity which makes the ' verses sound
better to the brain than to the ear.' It is now thought that the
ballad was written by Delaney, but in the early editions the
ballad was attributed to Mrs Page herself, and a copy in the
Roxburghe Ballads is headed : ' Written with her owne hand,
a little before her death.' ' The Lamentation of Master Page's
Wife ' was sung to the tune of ' Fortune my Foe ' :
' Unhappy she whom Fortune hath forlorne :
Despis'd of grace, that proffered grace did scorne !
My lawlesse love hath lucklesse wrought my woe ;
My discontent content did ov'rthrow.
' In blooming yeares my father's greedy mind,
Against my will, a match for me did find ;
Great wealth there was, yea, gold and silver store ;
And yet my heart had chosen long before.
' On knees I prayde they would not me constraine,
With teares I cride, their purpose to refraine ;
With sighs and sobs I did them often move.
I might not wed, whereas I could not love.
' But all in vaine my speeches still I spent,
My Father's will my wishes did prevent ;
Though wealthy Page possest my outward part,
George Strangwidge still was lodged in my heart.
*****
' Lo ! here began my downfall and decay !
In mind I mus'd to make him straight away,
I, that became his discontented wife,
Contented was he should be rid of life.
*****
1 Well could I wish that Page enjoy'd his life
So that he had some other to his wife ;
But never could I wish, of low or hie,
A longer life, and see sweet Strangwidge die.
192

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
' You Parents fond that greedy-minded be,
And seek to graffe upon the golden tree,
Consider well, and rightfull Judges be,
And give your doome 'twixt Parents' love and me.
' I was their child, and bound for to obey,
Yet not to wed where I no love could lay ;
I married was to much and endless strife,
But faith before had made me Strangwidge wife.
' You Denshire Dames and courteous Cornwall Knights
That here are come to visit woefull wights,
Regard my griefe, and marke my wofull end,
And to your children be a better friend.
' And then, my deare, which for my fault must dye,
Be not afraid the sting of death to try ;
Like as we liv'd and lov'd together true.
So both at once, we'll bid the world adue.'
' The Lamentation of George Strangwidge ' many times
lapses into bathos, but as in a way it answers the other ballad,
I will quote a few verses :
' O Glanfield ! cause of my committed crime.
Snared in wealth, as Birds in bush of lime,
What cause had thou to beare such wicked spight
Against my Love, and eke my hart's delight ?
' I would to God thy wisdome had been more, .!
Or that I had not ent'red at the door ;
Or that thou hadst a kinder Father beene
Unto thy Childe, whose yeares are yet but greene.
' Ulalia faire, more bright than summer's sunne,
Whose beauty had my heart for ever won,
My soule more sobs to thinke of thy disgrace,
Than to behold my owne untimely race.
' The deed late done in heart I doe lament,
But that I lov'd, I cannot it repent ;
Thy seemely sight was ever sweet to me.
Would God my death could thy excuser be.'
Kilworthy House, which in those days belonged to the Glan-
vills, is now the property of the Duke of Bedford.
193 N.

Devon [ch. x
Tavistock seems to have maintained an open mind, or perhaps
was forced into keeping open house, during the Civil War ; but
Fitzford House, then belonging to Sir Richard Grenville, held
out resolutely for the King, until overpowered by Lord Essex.
The people seem to have been rather indifferent to the cause of
the war, and very sensible of its hardships, for it was here sug
gested that a treaty might be made, ' whereby the peace of
those two counties of Cornwall and Devon might be settled
and the war removed into other parts.' It was a really excellent
method of shifting an unpleasant burden on to other shoulders,
but in actual warfare, unfortunately, impracticable, although
the treaty was drawn up and for a short time a truce was
observed. At the end of this year (1645) Prince Charles paid a visit to the
town, and was so much ' annoyed by wet weather, that ever after,
if anybody remarked it was a fine day, he was wont to declare that,
however fine it might be elsewhere, he felt quite sure it must be
raining at Tavistock.' One cannot help wondering if his courtiers
kept to English tradition of perpetually speaking of the weather.
To walk away from Tavistock along the Tavy's bank is to
follow the footsteps of that river's special poet, William
Browne. His poems are not so well known as they might
be, and his most celebrated lines are nearly always attributed
to Ben Jonson — I mean the fine epitaph on ' Sidney's sister,
Pembroke's mother ' — though any doubt as to the author of the
lines is cleared up by a manuscript in the library of Trinity College,
Dublin. Not very many details of his life are known, but he
had the happiness of being better appreciated by his contem
poraries than by posterity, and Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton
wrote complimentary verses, as a sort of introduction to volumes
of his poems when they were published. Browne's work is
very uneven, many of his poems are charming, some diffuse
and rather poor ; but he had a sincere feeling for Nature, and
his nymphs and swains revelled in posies and garlands in the
shade of groves full of singing birds.
In the third book of his long poem, ' Britannia's Pastorals/
194

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
there is a quaint and pretty song, of which one verse
runs: ' So shuts the marigold her leaves
At the departure of the sun ;
So from the honeysuckle sheaves
The bee goes when the day is done ;
So sits the turtle when she is but one,
And so all woe, as I, since she is gone."
A deliciously whimsical touch marks his description of a feast
of Oberon : ' The glasses, pure and thinner than we can
See from the sea-betroth'd Venetian,
Were all of ice, not made to overlast
One supper, and betwixt two cowslips cast.
A prettier hath not yet been told,
So neat the glass was, and so feat the mould.
A little spruce elf then (just of the set
Of the French dancer or such marionette),
Clad in a suit of rush, woven like a mat,
A monkshood flow'r then serving for a hat ;
Under a cloak made of the Spider's loom :
This fairy (with them, held a lusty groom)
Brought in his bottles ; neater were there none ;
And every bottle was a cherry-stone,
To each a seed pearl served for a screw,
And mosi of them were fill'd with early dew.'
Now and again in his verses there peeps out a joyful pride in
his county, and his love of the Tavy is deep to his heart's core.
Some way below Tavistock is Buckland Abbey, founded by
Amicia, Countess of Devon, in 1278, and for long years the home
of Cistercians. At the Dissolution the Abbey was granted for
a small sum to Sir Richard Grenville (grandfather of the hero of
the Revenge), who altered it into a dwelling-house. Sir Richard,
his grandson, sold it to John Hele and Christopher Harrys,
who were probably acting for Sir Francis Drake, and he formally
bought it of them ten months later. The house was built in the
body of the church, and it is still easy to trace its ecclesiastical
origin from some of the windows and architecture. In the hall
195 N 2

Devon [ch. x
is a fine frieze, with raised figures in high relief and an elaborate
background, the subject a knight turned hermit. The knight,
wearing a hermit's robe, is sitting beneath spreading boughs, and
a skull is lodged in a hollow of the tree-trunk. His charger and his
discarded armour lie near him. In the same hall rests the famous
drum that went round the world with Drake, the drum referred
to in the traditional promise. that Mr Newbolt has put into verse :
' Take my drum to England, hang it by the shore ;
Strike it when the powder's running low ;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port of Heaven,
An' drum them up the Channel, as we drummed them long ago.'
A short distance below the Abbey, the Tavy, now broadened
into a wide but still shallow stream, ripples and hurries over the
pebbles in a deep valley between wooded hills. Returning to
Tavistock and going up the river, one arrives at the pretty and
very remote village of Peter Tavy. The houses are scattered
about in an irregular group, a stream runs through them to join
the Tavy, and just above the wide bridge the brook divides,
flowing each side of a diamond-shaped patch, green with long
grass and cabbages. A steep slope leads up to the little church,
which stands back, and a tiny avenue of limes leads up to it from
the lichgate. The tower is battlemented, and the church must
have been partly rebuilt, for parts of it are early English and the
rest late Perpendicular. Within are slender clustered columns,
supporting wide arches, and different designs are sculptured on
the sides of the granite font.
Close by is a glen, which Mrs Bray says, ' I have ventured to
name the Valley of Waterfalls, on account of the vast number
of small but exquisitely beautiful falls seen there.' A narrow lane
with high hedges leads round the shoulder of the hdl to the steep
little valley, where the Tavy jostles against obstructive boulders,
and a high, narrow, unstable-looking bridge of tarred timber
(sometimes called a ' clam ' bridge) crosses the stream. Climbing
up on the farther side, the road soon reaches the village of Mary
Tavy. In reference to these villages a very old joke is told of a
Judge unacquainted with these parts who, in trying a case, not un-
196

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
naturally confused the names with those of witnesses, and ordered
that Peter and Mary Tavy be brought into court. Mary Tavy
has not the unusual attractiveness of Peter Tavy. It looks barer,
and is overshadowed by that peculiarly comfortless air always
given by chimneys or machinery of mines. The church stands
above the road, and beside it a large old tree, whose lower
branches are so abundantly covered with polypody that the
fronds hang like long fringes from either side of each branch. The
porch has a white groined ceiling, crossed with fragments of the
old timber roof, on which are bosses carved in different designs.
From Mary Tavy a road runs nearly parallel to the river.
Beyond Horndon the houses are fewer and more scattered, and
somehow there is a suggestion that one is coming nearer and nearer
to the verge of civilization. The few houses look nice in them
selves, with the exception of a farm, so cheerless and neg-
lected-looking, that it was a surprise to find it inhabited ; and
not far beyond this house the road reaches another and very
different farm, looking full of comfort — and goes no farther.
This farm has the significant name of Lane End, and one realizes
from its solitary, exposed position that the high and substantial
wall surrounding it was built for sound reasons. It stands on
the moor, and the cultivation is of the roughest kind ; the fields,
such as they are, being plentifully sprinkled with huge boulders.
In winter, when there is much fear of snow, these fields serve as
an enclosure for the ponies that are driven-in off the moor —
looking like wild animals in their long, hanging, furry coats.
The river is heard dashing over the rocks below, and about a
mile farther on is Tavy Cleave.
The last time I saw it a vague threat hung over everything,
adding a cold fascination to the moor. The hills showed tints of
faint green and palest brown, and patches of bracken gave a
consoling shade of russet. Hare Tor rose beyond, silent and
impressive, covered with snow. The Tavy had a new beauty, for
it was almost frozen over, and the dark water, and along whirling
scraps of foam, showed between the blocks of ice and snow, and
the boulders were each bordered with shining white. The sky was
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Devon [ch. x
heavy with snow-clouds, and beneath them and in the rifts were
stormy red sunset tints, while a cold blue-grey mist was creeping
up the valley.
There are some places — the Castle of Elsinore, for instance —
that seem to have an amazing and incomprehensible gift of
resisting civilization. They may be brought up to date, and
trimmed, and filled with inappropriate people, and everything
else done that should spoil them, but in spite of it all they do not
for a moment look as if any modern extraneous objects had a
meaning for them. They belong to their own day and its manner,
and to no other.
The same sort of feeling hovers about Tavy Cleave, and a great
sense of the mystery that here more, there less, broods over the
moor. But there is no suggestion as to who it is that the moor
has most truly and absolutely belonged to, nor even the region
of time : only the feeling that the valley is, in a finer than the
usual sense, haunted.
As a valley Tavy Cleave is very beautiful, with its steep sides
and clear rushing stream and red granite rocks, half in and half
out of the river, that have a charm they entirely lose when once
away from the water. Mr Widgery shows how admirable they
are in their proper place, with their reflections quivering beneath
them. Sometimes a kind of black moss grows upon them, and
tiny bits of white lichen, giving together a curious tortoiseshell
look. Above, the hill-sides are covered with heather and broom
and whortleberries among masses of loose rocks, and now and
again there is the vivid green of a patch of bog. The great
masses of rocks crowning the separate points on the hillside,
like ruined rock-castles, add to the air of mystery.
Looking to the west from above the Cleave, one sees — as from
any distance round one sees — the most characteristic height of
Brent Tor, with the tiny church on the top. It is not that the
tor is so very high, but in some astonishing way it always seems
to appear as a landmark, north, south, east, or west, when one
imagines it to be absolutely out of range. The sides are steep and
rocky, and the church stands ' full bleak and weather-beaten, all-
198

BRENT TOR

ch. x] The Tamar and the Tavy
alone as it were, forsaken, whose churchyard doth hardly afford
depth of earth to bury the dead ; yet doubtless they rest there
as securely as in sumptuous St Peter's until the day of Doom.'
The story told of the church is that a man once almost gave him
self up for lost — some say in a storm, others in an impenetrable,
unending fog — in the Channel, and vowed that, if he ever came safe
to shore, he would build a church on the first bit of land he saw.
As Brent Tor is far inland, the fog story sounds the more probable,
for there is no saying how mist wreaths may drift. The church is
dedicated to St Michael de la Rupe, and here another tradition
comes in, for it is popularly supposed that, when the building of
the church was begun, the devil pulled away all the day's work
in the night. At last St Michael came to the rescue, and hurled
such an enormous mass of rock upon the devil that he fled away
and hindered no more. The building is very tiny, and a country
man told me that as a child he used to be puzzled by the cryptic
warning : ' If you get into the second aisle of Brent Tor Church,
you will never get out again.' Of course — there is no second
aisle. The beauty of many of the places on the banks of the Tamar
is celebrated. Among the exquisite woods and lawns of Endsleigh
— through which one Duke of Bedford cut no less than forty
miles in rides — the river twists and winds for a long dis
tance at one point, and curves round almost into a ring.
A little farther south are Morwell Rocks, which Mr Norway had
the good fortune to see in the spring. ' The trees stretch far
away along the river, dense and close to the water's edge, a
mountain of gold and sunny green, broken in the midst by a high
grey crag, which stands up sheer and grey amid the mass of
gorgeous colour. This is the first peak of a great range of lime
stone cliffs, which for the most part, as the hill sweeps round
above the village of MorweUham, are hidden in the woods. But
when that tiny cluster of cottages and wharves is left behind,
the stream creeps closer to the hill, and it is as if the buried rock
stirred and flung the coppice off its shoulders, for the limestone
precipices rise vertically out of the water to a vast height. The
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Devon [ch. x
summits are weathered into most fantastic shapes, pinnacles and
towers break the skyline, and wherever a crevice in the rock
has allowed the lodging of a little earth, some oak-tree roots
itself, or a wild tangle of greenery drops down the scarred surface
of the cliff.'
A little farther down, the Tamar and the Tavy join, and with
the Cornish Lynher form the Hamoaze — a view of land and water
that is very admirable. It is not a scene whose dimly realized
charm grows gradually stronger, but one whose triumphant beauty
is beyond dispute. The innumerable creeks and inlets, the rich
abundance of foliage and pasture, and the sweeping sense of
spaciousness from the open sea that comes off Plymouth Sound,
help to make the grand effect ; and the feelings of few can be
quite unstirred by the battleships, or perhaps black sinister
destroyers, and the multitude of other shipping lying at anchor in
that famous haven, and by the thought of all that they mean
to us.

200

BIDEFORD

CHAPTER XI
The Taw and the Torridge
' Hither from my moorland home,
Nymph of Torridge, proud I come ;
Leaving fen and furzy brake,
Haunt of eft and spotted snake . . .
Nursling of the mountain sky,
Leaving Dian's choir on high,
Down her cataracts laughing loud,
Ockment leapt from crag and cloud,
Leading many a nymph, who dwells
Where wild deer drink in ferny dells. . . .
Grsecia, prize thy parsley crown ;
Boast thy laurel, Caesar's town ;
Moorland myrtle still shall be
Badge of Devon's Chivalry !'
Kingsley : Westward Ho /
' «A LL who have travelled through the delicious scenery of
¦ /^ North Devon must needs know the little white town
/ % of Bideford, which slopes upwards from its broad tide-
river paved with yellow sands, and many-arched old
bridge, where salmon wait for autumn floods, toward the pleasant
upland in the west. Above the town the hills close in, cushioned
with deep oak-woods, through which juts here and there a crag
of fern-fringed slate ; below they lower and open more and more
on softly rounded knolls and fertile squares of red and green,
till they sink into the wide expanse of hazy flats, rich salt-marshes,
and rolling sand-hills, where Torridge joins her sister Taw, and
both together flow quietly toward the broad surges of the bar
and the everlasting thunder of the long Atlantic swell.'
It is difficult to imagine that there could be a more fitting
description of Bideford than that drawn in the opening words
of ' Westward Ho !' Bideford, it has been said, is spoilt by ugly
modern houses, but the remark implies a matter-of-fact view,
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Devon [ch. xi
for the ugliness and modernness are only skin-deep, and can
easily be ignored. A matter of far greater importance is that
there is an old-world essence, a dignity in the whole tone and spirit
of the town, that keep it in touch with the glorious past.
Faithful followers of the heroes on the borderland of myth —
King Arthur, Charlemagne, Holger Danske — believed that in
their country's need these would arise from the shades to lead
their people to victory ; and at Bideford one feels that, should
any ' knight of the sea ' return, he would find a town not strange
to him, and, if the stress were sharp enough to pierce the thin
husk that later civilization has added, a people who would under
stand and not fail him.
The name comes from By-the-ford, but a ford between East-
the-water and the town must have been rather perilous, and only
possible at low-tide. In the early part of the fourteenth century
some of the chief inhabitants resolved to build a bridge, but several
efforts were made in vain, for they were always thwarted by
failure to find a firm enough foundation. Then Sir Richard
Gurney, priest of the place, was ' admonished by a vision ... to
"begin that excellent work . . . where he should find a stone
fixed in the ground.' This dream he thought nothing of, ' until,
walking by the river, he espied such a stone or rock there rolled
and fixed firmly, which he never remembered to have seen
formerly,' and was hereby convinced ' that his dream was no
other than an heavenly inspiration.' The whole neighbourhood
combined to help, the rich sending money and lending the services
of their workmen, and the poor giving such time and labour as
they could afford. The bridge, which has since been widened, is a
very fine one, of twenty-four arches. Westcote says : ' A bark of
60 tons (without masts) may pass and repass with the tide, which
flows near five miles above it.'
Gifts and bequests were made to the bridge, and the funds
belonging to it became so large, and the business connected with
them so important, that in 1758 a hall was built for the use of
the feoffees, and decorated with the royal arms and the arms of
the bridge. 202

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
St Mary's Church was built about the same date as the bridge,
but about forty years ago all but the tower was pulled down and
rebuilt. It had suffered considerably from the ravages of the
Reformers, whose horror of ritualism reached the point of throw
ing the font out of doors, whereupon ' one schismatic,' more crazy
than the rest, took it, says Watkins, in wrath, ' for the purpose
of a trough for his swine to feed out of ; and if he had had his
deserts, he would have made one of their company.' The font
was probably rescued by some pious person, for the one now in
the church is a fine Norman one, with cable moulding.
In this church was baptized ' Raleigh,' the Indian brought
back by Sir Richard Grenville from Carolina, and called after
the great Sir Walter, who was doing much for that country. Sir
Richard kept ' Raleigh ' in his own house, and the dark stranger
must have caused great chattering and excitement among the
children and some of their elders in the town, but he did not
survive transplantation, and a year later was buried in Bideford
Churchyard. In the register he is described as a native of
Wynganditoia. On the south side of the church is the tomb of Thomas Gren
ville, who lies in armour, with a dog — not, as on most monuments,
at his feet, but by his side. On the tomb are various coats of arms,
and over it rises an arch ornamented with high stone tracery.
A curious screen between the tower and the church has been made
from the old carved bench-ends. Most of the subjects are
grotesque, and on some of the panels are gnome-like heads, with
long beards, big hats, and impudent, leering expressions.
In the churchyard is a tombstone with this epitaph :
' Here lies the body of Mary Sexton,
Who pleased many a man, but never vex'd one,
Not like the woman who lies under the next stone,'
Nowadays there is not much foreign trade, although a few
vessels with outlandish names may be seen lying stranded at
low-water alongside the quay. But Bideford had a full share of
the prosperity that Devonshire ports enjoyed in the reign of
Queen Elizabeth. The merchants were encouraged by Sir
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Devon [ch. xi
Richard Grenville, who, fired by the ' gallant and ingenious ' Sir
Walter Raleigh, ventured first fortune and then himself in com
manding an expedition planned by his friend and kinsman. The
expedition did not meet with great success in its main object,
which was to establish a colony for the settlers, who, finding insur
mountable hardships and difficulties, were all brought home later
by Sir Francis Drake ; but a Spanish treasure-ship of immense
wealth was captured on the way back. It was said that in different
ventures ' Bideford, in consequence of its lord, had some share,
but chiefly with respect to its mariners.' So, after Sir Richard had
fought his splendid last fight, and when his immediate influence
was gone, independent merchants and mariners went on to fresh
enterprises, and commerce continued to increase. Trading with
Spain for wool soon became an important branch, but of still
greater consequence was the trade with Newfoundland. When
William and Mary reigned, Bideford was sending more ships
there than any other port in the kingdom but London and
— strange to say — Topsham. In the next reign the merchants
suffered immense losses from French privateers, who, making
the island of Lundy their headquarters, spied almost every
ship that passed up and down the Bristol Channel. To them,
Bideford or Barnstaple Bay was ' emphatically the Golden Bay,
from the great number of valuable prizes which they captured
on it.' Traffic with America had, however, greatly declined,
before it was killed by the War of Independence.
In the history of Bideford the name of Grenville shines on
many occasions. Both Devon and Cornwall claim this eminent
family, their ' chiefest habitation ' of Stow being in Cornwall,
while, according to some authorities, their first dwelling-place in
this part of the world was at Bideford.
Richard de Grenville, near the end of the fourteenth century,
for his valour and courage in the Welsh wars was awarded the
town and county of Neath, in Glamorgan. Being pious as well
as brave, he devoted all this wealth to the Church, building and
endowing a monastery for Cistercian monks. A quaint ' pro
phecy ' regarding this family was said to have been found many
204

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
years later in the Abbey of Neeth, where it was kept ' in a most
curious box of jett, written in the year 1400/
It begins : ' Amongst the trayne of valiant knights
That with King William came,
Grenvile is great, a Norman borne,
Renowned by his fame ;
His helmet ras'd and first unlac'd
Upon the Cambrian shore,
Where he in honour of his God
The Abbey did decore
With costly buildings, ornaments,
And gave us spatious lands,
As the first-fruits which victory
Did give into his hands.'
Watkins refrains from any comment as to the genuineness
of the ' prophecy ' (of which I have only quoted a small portion),
but perhaps the critical would gather from the whole tone, and
especially from the closing lines, which have a flattering reference
to the reign of a King Charles, that it was written about the date
of its discovery.
The dignity and authority, the commanding presence of Sir
Richard as a country gentleman, a neighbour, a Justice of the
Peace, are admirably suggested in ' Westward Ho !' Apart from
warfare on land or sea, he interested himself in a host of affairs
at home, and was both member of parliament and High Sheriff
for Cornwall. He was also called to serve on Commissions for
making inquiries about pirates and strengthening the defences of
the coast ; and notes show that within six months he was occu
pied with places as far east and west as Dover and Tintagel.
In 1587 he was appointed by the Queen to review the ' trained
bands ' in Devon and Cornwall, that nothing of their equipment
might be lacking when the expected enemy arrived ; and when
the shattered remnants of the Armada were straggling down the
Irish Channel, Sir Richard had special orders to ' stay all ship
ping upon the north coast of Devon and Cornwall.' The catalogue
alone of the tasks allotted to him shows how greatly the Queen
confided in his powers and judgment ; yet all the tale of his
205

Devon [ch. xi
life is completely overshadowed by the magnificence of his
death :
' And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,
With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather-bow.
" Shall we fight or shall we fly ?
Good Sir Richard, tell us now.
For to fight is but to die !
There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set."
And Sir Richard said again : " We be all good Englishmen ;
Let us bang those dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,
For I never turned my back upon Don or devil yet."
Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a hurrah, and so
The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe.
With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below ;
For half of their fleet to the right and half on the left were seen,
And the little Revenge ran on through the long sea-lane between.
*******
And the sun went down and the stars came out far over the summer sea,
But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came.
Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame ;
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her
shame.'
When the day dawned, ' all the powder of the Revenge to the
last barrell was now spent, all her pikes broken, fortie of her
best men slaine, and the most part of the rest hurt.' Then Sir
Richard ' commanded the maister Gunner, whom he knew to be
a most resolute man, to split and sinke the ship ; that thereby
nothing might remaine of glorious victorie to the Spaniards ;
seeing in so manie houres fighte with so great a Navie they were
not able to take her, having had fifteene houres time, fifteene
thousand men, and fifty and three suite of menne of warre to
perform it withail.'
The Captain and most of the crew felt that this supreme
sacrifice was not required of them, and offered to treat with
the Spaniards, who, filled with generous admiration for the
amazing courage that had been shown by their adversaries,
offered honourable terms of surrender. Sir Richard, who had
206

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
received several wounds, and who was at the point of death, was
carried on board the Spanish Admiral's ship, where his life ebbed
away within a few days. ' Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a
joyful and quiet mind, for that I have ended my life as a true
soldier ought to do that hath fought for his country, Queen,
religion, and honour : My soul willingly departing from this body,
being behind the lasting fame of having behaved as every valiant
soldier is in his duty bound to do.'
Sir Richard's famous grandson, Sir Bevil Grenville, was a brave
soldier, but less awe-inspiring ; ' the most generaUy beloved man
in Cornwall,' according to Clarendon ; and he adds that ' a brighter
courage and a gentler disposition were never married together.'
When war was declared, volunteers flocked to his standard, and
in his first engagement, near Liskeard, he inflicted defeat on the
Parliamentary troops, and took twelve hundred soldiers and all
the guns.
At Stratton his achievements were even more brilliant, for his
troops began at a serious disadvantage. The enemy, with ample
supplies and ammunition, were encamped on the top of a hill ;
' the Royalist troops, less than half their number, short of ammu
nition, and so destitute of provisions that the best officers had
but a biscuit a day, lay at Launceston.' Undaunted by these dis
couraging conditions, they determined to attack, and having
marched twenty miles, the soldiers arrived at the foot of the hill,
weary, footsore, and exhausted from want of food. From dawn till
late afternoon the storming-parties were again and again repulsed,
till their powder was almost gone ; then they scaled the hill in the
face of cannon and muskets, to take the position by the force of
swords and pikes. Grenville's party was the first to struggle up
to the top, and it was almost immediately joined by the other
columns, when the enemy broke in confusion and fled.
Sir Bevil met his death at Lansdowne, when, with grim dogged-
ness, the Royalists were again climbing the heights in the face of
the enemy's fire. Very many fell, and he among them. ' Young
John Grenville, a lad of sixteen, sprang, it is said, into his father's
saddle, and led the charge, and the Cornishmen followed with their
207

Devon [ch. xi
swords drawn and with tears in their eyes, swearing they would
kill a rebel for evey hair of Sir Bevil's head.'
It is not possible to follow the careers of others of his family, but
a saying in the West Country ran : ' That a Godolphin was never
known to want wit, a Trelawney courage, or a Grenville loyalty.'
Their love of adventure perhaps descended from an earlier Sir
Richard Grenville, who puts forward his views in a poem called

SIR RICHARD GRENVILLE'S FAREWELL.
[Also entitled ' In Praise of Seafaring Men in Hope of Good Fortune,
and describing Evil Fortune.']
Who seeks the way to win renown.
Or flies with wings of high desert,
Who seeks to wear the laurel crown,
Or hath the mind that would aspire —
Let him his native soil eschew,
Let him go range and seek a new.
Each haughty heart is well content
With every chance that shall betide —
No hap can hinder his intent ;
He steadfast stands, though fortune slide.
The sun, quoth he, doth shine as well
Abroad as erst where I did dwell.

To pass the seas some think a toil ;
Some think it strange abroad to roam ;
Some think it grief to leave their soil,
Their parents, kinsfolk, and their home.
Think so who list, I take it not ;
I must abroad to try my lot.

If Jason of that mind had been,
The Grecians, when they came to Troy,
Had never so the Trojans fooled.
Nor ne'er put them to such annoy ;
Wherefore, who list to live at home,
To purchase fame I will go roam.
208

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
Directly, Bideford suffered very little from the Civil War.
In the early days the town was for the Parliament, and two
forts were built, one on each side of the river ; but after a defeat
near Torrington, in the autumn of 1643, the citizens surrendered
to the royal army. ' Their spirit for rebellion was considerably
reduced,' says their special historian ; ' they remained perfectly
neutral to the dreadful end of that unhappy war/
Unfortunately, it is not possible here to dwell upon the delightful
minor annals of Bideford, such as the history of that stalwart
pamphleteer, Dr Shebbeare, who, for his repeated attacks on the
Ministry, was condemned to stand in the pillory at Charing Cross.
The sentence was carried out, but not exactly in the usual manner,
for ' Mr Beardmore, the under-sheriff, being a friend of the
Doctor's, permitted him to stand unconfined on the platform of
the pillory, attended by a servant in livery holding an umbrella
over him.' It is lamentable that the authorities were sufficiently
vindictive and small-minded to visit this act of friendly tolerance
on Mr Beardmore with a fine of £50 and two months' imprisonment.
Dr. Shebbeare was also imprisoned ; but later in life the tide
turned, and the King was persuaded to pension him with £200.
As Dr Johnson was pensioned about the same time, with the same
sum, the joke ran that the King had shown benevolence to a He
Bear and a She Bear.
It is also impossible to do more than touch on the tragic episode
of 1682 — the trial of three unhappy women, Susanna Edwards,
Temperance Lloyd, and Mary Trembles, who were accused of
having practised witchcraft. Here are a few fragments of the
evidence given at the trial. A witness said that, while nursing
a sick woman, a magpie fluttered once against the window, and
that Temperance admitted that this ' was the black man in the
shape of a bird.' Another time ' a grey or braget cat ' of rather
mysterious movements was an object of suspicion, and Temper
ance was reported to have confessed that ' she believed it to be
the Devil.' The evidence of a dead woman was brought forward,
she having ' deposed that the said Temperance had appeared to
her in the shape of a red pig.' Susanna Edwards, under strict
209 0

Devon [ch. xi
examination, ' confesseth that the Devil hath appeared to her in
the shape of a Lyon, as she supposed.'
Some of the questions put to the wretched ' witches ' were
simply grotesque, and reflect, as Watkins causticaUy observes,
on the inteUigence of the examiner. Temperance was asked :
' Temperance, how did you come in to hurt Mrs Grace Thomas ?
Did you pass through the key-hole of the door, or was the door
open ? . . .
' H. [the examiner]. Did you know any Marriners, that you
or your Associates destroyed, by overturning of ships or boats ?
' Temperance. No ! I never hurt any ship, bark, or boat in
my life.
' H. You say you never hurt ships nor boats ; did you never
ride over an arm of the sea on a Cow ?'
To the north of Bideford is a little peninsula formed by the
mouth of the Torridge on the east, the far wider estuary
of the Taw on the north, and the open sea on the west. The
whole course of the Torridge is very capricious. The source
is within four miles of the sea, not far south of Hartland,
and, at once turning inland, the stream takes a south-easterly
direction till it reaches the first slopes that, rising out of the
fertile country, mount gradually as they stretch towards the
borders of Dartmoor. At this check the Torridge runs due east
till, within a few miles of Okehampton, it turns in a great rounded
loop, and flows north and slightly west to the north coast again.
The Taw's course is far more direct. It rises in Dartmoor,
and, occasionaUy bending slightly to east or west, it makes a
fairly straight way towards the north tiU Barnstaple is reached,
and then, turning almost at a right angle, runs westward to
the sea.
Following the strip of land along the west bank of the Torridge
from Bideford, the road passes Northam, and on the north-eastern
point, at the meeting of the rivers, stands Appledore. Before
reaching Northam, by diverging a little to the west, one arrives at
the remains of an ancient castle, Kenwith Castle, known for a long
time as Hennaborough or Henny HiU, where about a.d. 877 the
210

.^MWf'.Sr

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
Danes were valiantly driven back, after a furious battle, by King
Alfred and his son. Hubba, the leader of the Danes, feU, and their
magical banner, Reafan — the Raven — was taken. According to
one tradition, it was ' wrought in needlework by the daughters
of Lothbroc, the Dane, and, as they conceived, it made them
invincible.' Another account rather contradicts this, as it
declares that the wonderful standard bore a stuffed raven, who
' hung quiet when defeat was at hand, but clapped his wings
before victory.' AU the legends, however, point to the faith of the
Danes in the magical powers of the banner, and their chagrin on
losing it must have been very great.
The Danes buried Hubba ' on the shore near his ships, and,
according to the manner of northern nations, piled on him a heap
of copped stones as a trophy to his memorial, whereof the place
took name Hubba-stone.' Risdon speaks of the ' sea's encroach
ing,' and of the stones having been swept away by it before his
day, but the name stiU clings to the spot where it stood.
A little fort at Appledore was built, it is said — but the
authority is not infaUible — at the same time that the forts were
thrown up at Bideford, and towards the end of July, 1644, it
was caUed on to make a defence. Barnstaple had suddenly
rebelled against the Royalists, and the citizens resolved to
take possession of the guns that commanded the river's
mouth. Sir John Berkeley, writing what must have been
an unsatisfactory letter to Colonel Seymour, in answer to a request
for more men, speaks of the troops sent to help the defenders :
' Your desire and expectance of supply is most just and reason
able. Having been exhausted of men by the Prince, and
having sent to the relief of Appledore, by His Majesty's com
mand, 500 under Colonel Apsley ... I am not able to give you the
least assistance at present.' And Sir Hugh PoUard, writing at
the same time, mentions that Colonel Apsley's force will meet ' a
many of Doddington's horse at Chimleigh, to the relief of the fort
at Appledore, which is straitly besieged by those of Barnstaple.'
The garrison consisted of forty Cornishmen, and before the
siege was raised they were ' much straitened both for dread and
211 o 2

Devon [ch. xi
fresh water.' They were particularly badly off because ' a certain
colonel, who is stigmatized covertly as "no Cornishman," had been
entrusted with the victualling of the fort, but had neglected his
duty.' Close to the sea, on the west, lies Westward Ho ! — a tiny (and
modern) watering-place, named after Kingsley's famous book.
Along the western shore as far as the Taw stretch Northam
Burrows, covered for some distance by a fine elastic turf that
is far-famed, and by patches of rushes. Beyond the golf-links
the ground breaks into sand-hills, aU hiUocks and hoUows of
pure sand, soft and yielding, dented by every footstep, set with
rushes and spangled with crane's-bill, yeUow bedstraw, tiny
purple scented thyme-flowers, and a kind of spurge.
Both sand-hills and common are protected from the sea by the
well-known Pebble Ridge, which stretches for two mUes in a
straight line. It is a mass — fifty feet wide and twenty feet high —
of large, smooth, roUed slate-stones, some being two feet across,
though most of them are smaller.
Turning westwards along the coast, Lundy is often to be seen
like a faint blue cloud on the horizon, especiaUy when a softening
haze hovers over the land — but on a clear day it is very distinct.
And on a fine evening, when the dim blue twUight is creeping
up on every side, it has the very air of an enchanted island against
the radiant crimson that for a few moments spreads and glows
in the west after sundown.
A little distance farther on is Portledge, ' the most antient seat
of the name and family of Coffin,' says Prince ; and he men
tions a boundary deed between Richard Coffin and the Abbot
of Tavistock, written ' in the Saxon tongue, which giveth good
confirmation thereof.' Sir Wflliam Coffin was one of several
Devonshire gentlemen who were ' assistants ' to Henry VIII in
the tournaments of the ' Field of the Cloth of Gold,' being of great
courage, and ' expert at feats of arms.' A story which is often
told of him gives a good iUustration of his strong will. While
living on a property that belonged to his wife in Derbyshire,
Sir WiUiam chanced one day to pass a churchyard, and seeing a
212 ( ( ((

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
group of people standing about, he asked what was happening.
Being told that ' they had brought a corps to be buried, but the
priest refused to do his office unless they first delivered him the
poor man's cow, the only quick goods left,' for a burial fee, he
commanded the priest to read the service. But the priest declined
to do so until he had received his fee. On this answer, Sir
William ' caused the priest to be put into the poor man's grave,
and earth to be thrown upon him ; and he still persisting in his
refusal, there was still more earth thrown in, until the obstinate
priest was either altogether or well nigh suffocated.'
Prince is entirely delightful over this story. He goes on : ' Now,
thus to handle a priest in those days was a very bold adventure ;'
as if to bury a priest alive was usuaUy considered a pleasant
amusement. Sir William, however, not only lived through the
storm that the high-handed action raised, but actually succeeded
in moving Parliament to pass an Act regulating the burial fees that
might be asked of the poor. So our biographer finishes with the
triumphant axiom : ' Evil manners are often the parent of good
laws !'
Eleven miles west of Bideford is CloveUy. Here one feels,
rather despairingly, that anyone who has seen this wonderful
village can listen to no description of it ; while to those who have
never seen it, no description is of any value.
A road leads towards it through the Hobby, a wood over
hanging the sea, which Kingsley describes as ' a forest wall five
hundred feet high, of almost semi-tropic luxuriance.' The
road was ' banked on one side with crumbling rocks, festooned
with heath, and golden hawkweed, and London pride, like velvet
cushions covered with pink lace, and beds of white bramble-
blossom alive with butterflies ; while above my head, and on
my right, the delicate cool canopy of oak and birch leaves shrouded
me so close that I could have fancied myself miles inland, buried
in some glen unknown to any wind of heaven, but that every
where between green sprays and grey stems gleamed that same
boundless ocean blue.'
The viUage itself lies in a ravine of the rock, and the ' street '
213

Devon [ch. xi
is so precipitous that the eaves of one house are on a level with the
foundations of its next neighbour above. Kingsley and Dickens
have written descriptions that, scarcely overlapping, seem to
complete each other.
' I was crawling up the paved stairs, inaccessible to cart or
carriage, which are flatteringly denominated CloveUy street ; . . .
behind me a sheer descent, roof below roof, at an angle of 75°, to
the pier and bay, two hundred feet below and in front of me ;
another hundred feet above, a green amphitheatre of oak and
ash and larch, shutting out aU but a narrow slip of sky, across
which the low, soft, formless mist was crawling, opening every
instant to show some gap of intense dark rainy blue, and send
down a hot vaporous gleam of sunshine upon the white cottages,
with their grey steaming roofs and bright green railings packed
one above another upon the ledges of the cliff ; and on the tall tree
fuchsias and gaudy dahlias in the little scraps of court-yard;
caUing the rich faint odour out of the verbenas and jessamines,
and, alas ! out of the herring heads and taUs also, as they lay in
the rivulet, and lighting up the wings of the gorgeous butterflies,
almost unknown in our colder eastern climate, which fluttered
from woodland down to garden, and from garden up to woodland.'
The human element tinges the other sketch more strongly :
' The vfllage was built sheer up the face of a steep and lofty
cliff. There was no road in it, there was no wheeled vehicle in
it, there was not a level yard in it. From the sea-beach to the
cliff-top two irregular rows of white houses, placed opposite to
one another and twisting here and there, and there and here, rose
like the sides of a long succession of stages of crooked ladders, and
you climbed up viUage or climbed down the viUage by the staves
between, some six feet wide or so, and made up of sharp, irregular
stones. The old pack-saddle, long laid aside in most parts of
England, as one of the appendages of its infancy, flourished here
intact. Strings of pack-horses and pack-donkeys toUed slowly up
the staves of the ladders, bearing fish and coal, and such other
cargo as was unshipping at the pier from the dancing fleet of
village boats and from two or three little coasting traders. As
214 ( < < 1

CLOVELLY

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
the beasts of burden ascended laden, or descended light, they got
so lost at intervals in the floating clouds of viUage smoke, that they
seemed to dive down some of the viUage chimneys and come to the
surface again far off, high above others. No two houses in the
village were alike in chimney, size, shape, door, window, gable,
roof-tree, anything. The sides of the ladder were musical with
water, running clear and bright. The staves were musical with
the clattering feet of the pack-horses and pack-donkeys, and the
voices of the fishermen urging them up mingled with the voices
of the fishermen's wives and their many chudren. . . . The red-
brown cliffs, richly wooded to their extremest verge, had their
softened and beautiful forms reflected in the bluest water, under
the clear North Devonshire sky of a November day without a
cloud. The viUage itself was so steeped in autumnal foliage, from
the houses joining on the pier to the topmost round of the
topmost ladder, that one might have fancied it was out a-bird's-
nesting, and was (as indeed it was) a wonderful climber.'
The harbour is very small, but on a cliff-bound, dangerous coast
it is one of the very few between Bideford and Padstow.
CloveUy's great herring fishery used to be famous, but it is not
now so large as it used to be.
Above the viUage, the beautiful park of CloveUy Court lies
along the cliffs, looking over the wide distances of Bideford Bay ;
and on a fine day the Welsh coast may be seen. Inland, great
forest trees tower above a miniature forest of bracken, and at the
opening of a glade one may catch glimpses of the deer appearing
and vanishing again.
The Carys were in very ancient days settled at St Giles-in-the-
Heath, but a branch of them came to CloveUy in the reign of
Richard II. They were of the same race as the Carys of Torre
Abbey, and the family of whom Lord Falkland is the head.
John Cary, who acquired the property, was a distinguished
character. As a Judge, ' he scattered the rays of justice about
him, with great splendour.' He was caUed to show firmness and
loyalty under the most trying circumstances, but, ' true as steel
. . . the greatest dangers could not affright him from his duty and
215

Devon [ch. xi
loyalty to his distressed master Richard II, unto whom he faith
fully adhered when most others had forsaken him.' When the
King had been deposed, ' this reverend Judge, unable and un
willing to bow like a wUlow with every blast of wind, did freely
and confidently speak his mind.' So faithfully did he maintain
King Richard's cause that, when Henry IV came to the throne, the
Judge was banished the kingdom, and his goods and lands were
confiscated. These, Sir Robert Cary, his son, recovered literaUy
at the point of the sword, for a ' certain Knight-errand of Arragon,'
of great skill in feats of arms, ' arrived here in England, where he
chaUenged any man of his rank and quality.' Sir Robert accepted
the challenge, and a ' long and doubtful combat was waged in
Smithfield, London.' In the end the ' presumptious Arrogonoise '
was vanquished, and Henry V, to whom Sir Robert's gaUantry
appealed, restored him ' a good part of his father's lands,' and
granted him leave to bear ' in a field sUver, on a bend sable, three
white roses,' the arms of the conquered knight — the arms that the
Carys stiU bear. The CloveUy branch of the fanuly is now
extinct. A little to the south of CloveUy, and on high ground, are CloveUy
Dykes, the remains of an old camp, sometimes called British
and sometimes Roman. It is large and circular, and the position
was strengthened by three great trenches, about eighteen feet
deep and three hundred feet long, which lie around it. The
camp commands the only old road in the surrounding country.
About seven or eight miles to the west is the grand headland
of Hartland Point. It is a narrow ridge that rises precipitously
three hundred and fifty feet above the water, projects far out
into the sea, and abruptly ends the coast-line to the west. The
coast is very fine, but also most dangerous, and the cliffs, cleft
here and there by great chasms, fall sheer down to needle-points
of hard black slate rock jutting out into the sea.
The name of Herty Point, as it used to be caUed, was originaUy,
says Camden, ' Hercules's promontory,' and this title has given
rise to ' a very formal story that Hercules came into Britain and
killed I know not what giants.' Here Camden pauses in his
216

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
description of the place, to consider whether there ever was a
Hercules at all, and, if so, whether there were not reaUy forty-
three Hercules ; and if this was not so, whether Hercules was
perhaps ' a mere fiction to denote the strength of human pru
dence,' or, again, possibly a myth personifying the sun, and
his labours the signs of the zodiac, ' which the sun runs through
yearly.' On the whole, he decides that, at any rate, Hercules
never came to Britain, but the name might have been given to the
point by the Greeks "out of vanity,' because 'they dedicated
everything they found magnificent in any place to the glory of
Hercules.' Four mUes south-east of the headland lies Hartland town.
It has been briefly described as ' a very quiet street of grey stone
cottages and white-washed houses on a high and windy tableland.'
Close by is Hartland Abbey, founded, according to tradition, by
Githa, the wife of Earl Godwin, and mother of Harold II, in honour
of St Nectan ; for she ' highly reverenced the man, and verily
believed that through his merits her husband had escaped ship
wreck in a dangerous tempest.' In the reign of Henry II,
leave was given to Oliver de Dynant to change the community of
secular canons into regular canons of St. Augustine's order, and
to found a monastery for them. But between the successors of
the founder and the canons matters did not always run smoothly ;
in fact, on one occasion, about a hundred years later, they actuaUy
came to blows in the church, as is made clear by an entry in
the register of Bishop Bronescombe, for it records that the
bishop had reconciled the church, ' which had been poUuted by
an effusion of blood in an affray between Oliver de Dinham and
the canons.'
After the Dissolution the Abbey was bestowed by the King
upon the Sergeant of his cellar, a man named Abbott. Parts of
the Abbey remained unaltered and in good repair tiU the end of
the eighteenth century, when, in budding the present house, the
unfortunate taste of the period destroyed the hall, which was
over seventy feet long, and a portion of the cloisters, which were
then still perfect. Parts of them, however, are still standing.
217

Devon [ch. xi
The cloisters had been rebuUt at a very early date, for Dr. Oliver
quotes an inscription which was over one of the arches that shows
them to be the work of the Abbot John of Exeter, who resigned
in 1329. Bishop Stapledon had found many defects in the structure
of the Abbey, when he made his visitation in 1319, and had ordered
them to be at once remedied. During the alterations made about
one hundred and twenty years ago, the monument of a Knight
Hospitaller was found, and within the last few years smaU pieces
of carved stone have been dug up — amongst others, a Madonna's
head with traces of blue and gold still upon it ; a monk kneeling,
and a knight and lady hand in hand. The Abbey is now the
property of Sir Lewis Stucley.
Nearer the shore, and on high ground, is the church of St
Nectan, whose taU pinnacled tower is a landmark to saflors.
The tower is Perpendicular, but most of the church is late
Decorated, and the north side has a Norman doorway. The
great feature is the very beautiful screen which stretches across
the whole church ; but the cradle roofs are good, and there is other
carving. On the pulpit is the figure of a goat with tusks, and the
puzzling inscription, ' God save King James. Fines.' The Norman
font is curiously sculptured with grotesque faces that look down
on to equaUy quaint faces on the pedestal — an aUegory in stone
which Mr Hawker of Morwenstow interpreted as the righteous
looking down on the wicked.
Three or four miles farther on is the actual border-line, and
here one must turn, although, looking south towards Widemouth
Bay, it is irresistibly tempting to quote a few verses of rank
doggerel, written on a shipwreck which happened there on
November 23, 1824. The verses were probably inspired by
terrible stress of emotion, and suggest the idea that they were
written with a spar rather than with a pen ; but no doubt they
were for ever the joy and pride of their author.
' Come all you British seamen,
That plough the raging main.
Who fight for King and Country,
And your merchants do maintain.
2l8

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge

I'll sing you of a shipwreck
That was here the other day.
At a place that's called Widemouth,
Near Bude, and in that bay.
Chorus.
' So my British tars be steady,
And maintain your glorious name ;
Till you're drowned, killed, or wounded.
You must put to sea again.
' The twenty-third of November,
That was the very time,
A fine and lofty schooner brig,
The Happy Return, of Lyme,
The bold and noble Captain
Escaped from the deep,
And died with cold that very night
Near to a flock of sheep.
Chorus.
' So my British tars, etc.
' The mate, as fine a seaman
As could stand on a deck.
Had with his noble Captain
Escaped from the wreck ;
No refuge could be found on shore,
No good could there be done ;
He returned on board the deck and died :
The poor man lost his son.
Chorus.
' So my British tars, etc.
' This poor man's son was not drown'd,
But found dead the next day ;
Three only of this manly crew
Escaped death and sea.
Have pity on poor seamen,
Kind gentlemen, I beg ;
The one of them is wounded,
The poor man broke his leg.
Chorus.
' So my British tars, etc.
219

Devon [ch. xi

' I've twice myself been shipwreck'd,
Twenty-two years at sea.
But never saw a gang of thieves
Before that very day ;
Had it not been for Captain Thomas,
And his loyal Preventive crew,
They'd have stolen the cargo andthe deck.
The mast and rigging too.
Chorus.
' So my British tars, etc.
' This schooner came from Dublin,
To London she was bound ;
' I could not believe such daring thieves
Stood on the British ground.
The Farmers of the country,*
That distress ought to relieve,
Some of them were stealing butter,
While others stole the beef.
Chorus.
' So my British tars, etc.
' Seamen call this place West Barbary.
To me it does appear.
More of the cargo would have sav'd.
Were they wrecked on Algier :
The people might as well come in,
Rob the market or the fair ;
But to rob distressed seamen,
No one had business there.
Chorus.
' So my British tars, etc.
' Now to complete this shipwreck,
And for to end this song,
I've told you nothing but the truth,
No mortal I have wrong'd.
Great praise is due to Pethick.f
His wife and family brave.
That did their best that very time
Poor seamen's lives to save.
Chorus.
' So my British tars, etc'
* St. Ginnes. t The cottager by the seaside.
220

MORTHOE

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
Kingsley remarks that ' an agricultural people is generally as
cruel to wrecked seamen as a fishing one is merciful,' and speaks of
the many stories he has heard of ' baysmen ' on this coast ' risking
themselves like very heroes to save strangers' lives, and at the
same time beating off the labouring folk who swarmed down
for plunder from the inland huls.'
Retracing the way to Northam Burrows, passing through them
to their most northerly point, and crossing the Taw, one arrives
at a strip of shore — Braunton Burrows — which corresponds
to the strip on the southern bank of the river.
' A great chaos of wind-strewn sand-hills/ inhabited by armies
of rabbits, and haunted by peewits and gulls, the Burrows are
brightened by masses of wild-flowers, from the great mullein — once
known as hedge-taper, because of its pale torch of blossoms — to
the tiny delicate rose-pink bells of the bog-pimpernel. ' To the
left were rich, aUuvial marshes, covered with red cattle sleeping
in the sun, and laced with creeks and flowing dykes. . . . Beyond
again [looking back to the south] two broad tide-rivers, spotted
with white and red-brown saUs, gleamed like avenues of sdver
. '. . tiU they vanished among the wooded hiUs. On the eastern
horizon the dark range of Exmoor sank graduaUy into lower and
more broken ridges, which roUed away, woodland beyond wood
land, tiU aU outlines were lost in a purple haze ; whUe far beyond
the granite peaks of Dartmoor hung like a delicate blue cloud,
and enticed the eye away into infinity.'
In the midst of the sand-dunes are the remains of a little, very
old chapel, St Anne's Chapel, which is said to have been buUt by
St Brannock. North of the Burrows the land rises into cliffs,
on which grew (I hope, grows) the great sea-stock ; and Baggy
Point, at the southern end of Morte Bay, runs out into the sea.
Beyond the Point, the broad yellow line of Woolacombe Sands
stretches along the bay towards Morte Point.
Not far off was the manor of the Tracys, Woolacombe Tracy.
A curse was brought on this family by WUliam de Tracy, ' first
and forwardest of the knights who murdered Thomas a Becket.'
For, 'the Pope banning, cursing, and excommunicating/
221

Devon [ch. xi
a 'Miraculous Penance ' was imposed on the Tracys, ' that
whether they go by Land or Water, the Wind is ever in their faces.'
FuUer, who gives this information, concludes dryly : ' If this was so,
it was a Favour in a hot Summer to the Females of that Family,
and would spare them the use of a Fan.' On William de Tracy
himself feU the special curse, that ever after his death he should
be compelled to wander at night — some say over Woolacombe
Sands, others among Braunton Burrows — tiU he could make a
rope of sand. But, whenever the rope is nearly woven, there
comes a black dog, with a ball of fire in his mouth, and breaks it ;
so the penance is never at an end. Shrieks and wails have been
heard by people in cottages near the shore. Sometimes the un
easy spirit haunts the northern landing-place of the ferry from
Braunton Burrows to Appledore, and a wild, long-drawn cry of
' Boat ahoy !' comes ringing in the darkness over the waters. No
one answers that cry now after dusk, for once, many years ago,
the ferryman, who is well remembered among the Appledore
people, went over, and no man was there, but the black dog
jumped into the boat. The ferryman, not much liking this, put
back again as fast as he could, but when Appledore was nearly
reached the dog swamped the boat, made his way to shore,
and was lost in the shadows of Northam Burrows. " And the
boatman's nerve was so much shaken that soon afterwards he
gave up the ferry.
A monument to William de Tracy was wrongly supposed to Ue
in the church of Morthoe, or Morte, as it is more commonly called,
on the north of the bay. The memorial is of another William de
Tracy, rector here tUl his death in 1322. It is an elaborately sculp
tured altar-tomb, and bears the incised effigy of a priest ; on the
sides are figures of St Catherine and St Mary Magdalene, to whom
jointly the rector founded a chapel in his church. The church
is mainly Perpendicular, but it has an Early English chancel.
The northern curve of the bay ends in Morte Point, and here is
a cromlech in ruins, for ,the massive slab of rock which formed
the cover-stone has f aUen from the upright stones on which it used
to lie. 222

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
Beyond the point, at the end of the reef, is a huge rock caUed
the Morte Stone, very dangerous on that exposed coast. The
Normans are supposed to have given its sinister name, and
many since their time have found it a true rock of death. No fewer
than five vessels have been lost there in one winter. Rather more
than a mUe to the north, Bull Point, jutting out into the sea,
abruptly ends the coast-line on the north ; the cliffs fall back
slightly, and stretch away eastward, above ' black fields of shark's-
tooth tide-rocks, champing and churning the great green rollers
into snow.'
Returning to the Taw, inland, upon the eastern side of the Bur
rows, one passes Braunton, two or three miles short of the estuary.
The most interesting point about this viUage is its association
with its name-saint, St Brannock — for the ancient name was
Brannockstown. Old writers rather wildly assert that the saint
was the son of a ' King of Calabria,' but Mr Baring-Gould, in a
rapid sketch, says that he was the Irish confessor of a King of
South Wales, who, not finding happiness in the life he was leading,
migrated to North Devon. The legends that sprang up about
his name are steeped in a golden haze. When St Brannock
arrived, the whole place was ' overspread with brakes and woods.
Out of which desert, now named the Borroughs (to teU you some
of the marvels of this man), he took harts, which meekly obeyed
the yoke,' and made them ' plow to draw timber thence to build
a church, which may gain credit if it be true.' The caution of
this commendation is delightful. More, alas ! we do not learn,
for the writer forbears ' to speak of his cow (which being killed,
chopped in pieces, and boiling in the kettle, came out whole and
sound at his call), his staff, his oak, and his man Abel, which would
seem wonders. Yet all these you may see at large, lively repre
sented to you in a fair glass window.' It is very disappointing
that the window filled with the further wonders, the very names
of which have a charm, should have perished.
St Brannock Church is large, and, like Morte Church, is partly
Perpendicular and partly Early English. It has an unusuaUy
wide panelled roof, and on one of the panels is carved a sow and
223

Devon [ch. xi
some little pigs — an Ulustration of a legend connecting the saint
with the church, for the tradition ran that he had been told in
a dream to buUd his church ' wherever he should first meet a sow
and her family.' A similar group is to be seen in the porch
of the church at Newton St Cyres. Some of the bench-ends in
St Brannock's Church are very beautifuUy carved.
The road to Barnstaple, bending to the south-east, foUows the
estuary of the Taw for nearly six mUes.
The town is very prettfly placed, but it is dominated by modern
buildings, and has not" the air of antiquity with which its history
might have invested it. The river sweeps round a bend of a
green and pleasant valley just above the town, and along the
strand is a walk shaded with trees, looking over the river to a
pastoral country beyond. Nearer the bridge is Queen Anne's Walk,
' an open portico near the river, called the Quay Walk, being an
exchange of the merchants, etc.,' renamed when it was rebuilt
in Queen Anne's reign. From the bridge westward the scene has
an air of peaceful contentedness. Sea-guUs flutter among the
sand-banks, from which ' the sea retires itself ' at low-tide, leaving
only a small, shining stream, which seems ' to creep between
shelves and sands.' Beyond are green marshes, and gentle
rounded hiUs behind them lead on one from another. The
country is much the same all along the river to the sea.
Bideford is proud of its bridge, which is very high, and
has sixteen arches. Several people have been given the credit
of building it, and its date is supposed to be some time during
the thirteenth century.
The church, dedicated to St Peter and St Paul, is cross-
shaped, and the lead steeple looks well against the sky,
especially when it is surrounded by a shoal of swaUows swooping
and darting about it in all directions. The church has been
much restored, and altered from the original budding ; evidently
there were once three altars in it ; and a piscina stiU remains in the
south aisle, close to the west waU of the transept. A curious
monument was erected in 1634 hy Martin Blake, the Vicar, to
his son and four chddren who died very young. A heavy
224

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
and elaborate framework surrounds a severe likeness of a melan
choly-looking man, who is resting his head on his hand. On the
monument are short detached sentences, numbered :

' i. He was cut off in the flower of his life.

' 10. His heart on fire for the love of God.
' n. Martin Blake, the Father, was taken from the Pulpit, and sent to
Exeter jail for four years.
' 12. The Pulpit empty, and the congregation waiting for him.
' 13. He wishes to depart this life, and be at peace with his children.
' 14. But it is necessary I should remain in the flesh for the good of my
people. ' 15. He that shall endure to the end shall have a crown of life.'
Mr Blake suffered much during the Civil War, but I can find
no record of any imprisonment beyond his being in 1657 ' a
prisoner at large in Exeter for six weeks.' In 1646 he was
petitioned against on account of his Royalist sympathies, ' by
one Tooker,' to whom he had shown great kindness, and who
intrigued against him in the most abominable manner. Though
Sir Hardress WaUer wrote to the Committee of sequestrations on
his behalf, he was suspended, and as about a year later his sus
pension was canceUed, the infamous Tooker very hurriedly con
cocted a petition, ostensibly from Barnstaple, praying that the
' Discharge ' might be repealed. Walker comments on the
astonishing speed with which Tooker managed this business.
' The Reader . . . wUl certainly think, as I do, that he who walked
to and fro in the Earth, helped them to it ; tho' not in the Quality
of a Courier, but in his other Capacity, that of the Father of Lies'
Mr Blake, however, was aUowed to return to his living, but ' not
without the cumbrance of a Factious Lecturer,' and was not in
fuU possession till after the Restoration.
Barnstaple asserts that it became a borough at a very early
date — in fact, that it ' obtained divers liberties, freedoms, and
immunities from King Athelstan '; but whether this were so or
225 p

Devon [ch. xi
not, the inhabitants certainly received a charter from Henry I,
and further privileges were added by King John. The barony of
Barnstaple, first granted to Judhael de Totnes, passed to the
Tracys, then by marriage to the Lords Martin, and again by an
heiress to the Lords Audley. The son of this heiress was the
' heroical ' Lord Audley who so greatly distinguished himself at
the Battle of Poitiers.
Barnstaple sent three ships to join the fleet that met the
Armada. Risdon caUs it ' the chief town of merchandise next
the* river's mouth,' and says that the people 'through traffic
have much enriched themselves,' although their haven is so
shallow ' that it hardly beareth small vessels.' Yet spring-tides
sometimes flood the marshes all round, and on one occasion some
of the people ' to save their lives were constrained from their upper
rooms to take boat and be gone.' Westcote speaks of it as trading
especially with ' Spain and the islands,' and tiU the latter half of
the eighteenth century wool for the serge-makers from Ireland
and America was brought to this port ; but its trade h as now
almost dwindled away.
Barnstaple Fair is a great institution, and, though not quite
the event that it used to be, stfll keeps up many traditional cere
monies. On the first morning a large stuffed glove is put out on
the end of a pole from a window of the GuildhaU, and is supposed
to be the symbol of welcome to all comers. This sign was
adopted long ago, and in the accounts in 1615 and 1622 are
two entries : ' Paid for a glove put out at the fair, 4d.,' and ' Paid
for a paire of gloves at the faire, 4d.'
In the Guildhall, toast and spiced ale are handed round in
loving-cups to all comers, and after two or three speeches the
Mayor and Corporation proceed to the High Cross and other
places in the borough, and the Town Clerk reads the Proclama
tion of the Fair. A ' Fair Ball ' is still given, but the custom of
a stag-hunt on the second day has been dropped.
Barnstaple was a sort of shuttle-cock during the Civil War.
Here, as elsewhere, the citizens were not aU of one mind ; though
the merchants and the majority were for the Parliament,
226

BARNSTAPLE BRIDGE

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
and it was taken possession of first by one side and then by the
other. In August, 1643, Barnstaple and Bideford sent a combined
force against the royal troops under Colonel Digby at Torrington,
but being completely routed, their courage was shaken, and a
few days later Barnstaple was surrendered to Prince Maurice.
The next year, however, most of the garrison having been drawn
away, the inhabitants arose and took possession of the town for
the Parliament. Prince Maurice hurriedly sent Colonel Digby to
bring them to reason, but with great determination they resisted
the Royal troops, who were driven back. During the next three
months the fortunes of the Parliament in the West were at a
very low ebb, and in September the town was summoned by
Lord Goring. The store of ammunition was very low, and as
soon as they were blockaded, the townspeople found themselves
short of provisions. ' At that time but weakly garrisoned, the
town surrendered on terms, and the garrison quitted it on the
17th, leaving 50 pieces of ordnance.'
In the following May the Prince of Wales arrived, for, says
Clarendon, ' no place was thought so convenient for his residence
as Barnstaple, a pleasant town in the north part of Devonshire,
weU fortified, with a good garrison in it, under the command of
Sir Allen Apsley.' The King sent orders to the Prince, who at
this time was little more than fifteen years old, ' by the advice of
his councU, to manage and improve the business of the West, and
provide reinforcements for the army.' The Prince's council had
no easy task, for they were harassed by several causes. Lord
Goring's jealousy and selfishness were a great hindrance ; in con
sequence of a petition regarding the violence of his horse, the
Prince, says Clarendon, ' writ many earnest letters to the Lord
Goring.' Another great difficulty to be grappled with here was
a fierce quarrel between Sir Richard GrenviUe and the Com
missioners of Devon and Cornwall, who complained of him in
such bitter terms, that anyone who judged from their report
must have concluded him to be ' the most justly odious to both
counties that can be imagined.' 227 P 2

Devon [ch. xi
Prince Rupert paid the Prince a visit in June, and not long
afterwards Lord Goring's horse arrived in hot disorder, having
been chased most of the way from Bridgwater by Fairfax's
troops. In the following spring the town was besieged by the
Parliament's troops, and the day after the treaty for the surrender
of Exeter was completed, Fairfax himself marched to Barnstaple.
The Governor, seeing that resistance was hopeless, gave " the
castle and the town ... as a security for surrender of the fort at
eight days' end ' ; and on honourable terms Barnstaple yielded
to the enemy. It was the last town in Devonshire to be delivered
to the Parliament.
About two miles upstream the river ' Taw vails bonnet to
Tawstock, in our ancestors' speech,' says Westcote, and he goes
on to describe it as ' a pleasant and delicate seat indeed, in a rich
sod, and inhabited by worthy personages.' The modest claim has
been put forward that the view here includes " the most valuable
manor, the best mansion, the finest church, and the richest
rectory, in the county.' Possibly other parishes may not agree
with aU the superlatives, but the beautiful features of the valley
certainly offer a temptation to use them.
Tawstock Court was once the property of the Earls of Bath,
and now belongs to their descendant, Sir Bourchier Wrey. An
Elizabethan gateway is aU that is left of the old house, which was
burnt down, and rebuilt in 1787. The beautiful cruciform church
is chiefly Decorated, but parts are of a later date ; it is dignified
by a fine central embattled tower, crowned by pinnacles. In the
church are several altar-tombs to the Bourchiers, Barons Fitzwarine
and later Earls of Bath, and to their wives, and there is a very
early effigy carved in wood.
Leaving the Taw and crossing the country to the south, and a
little to the west, one reaches the Torridge, and Torrington, a town
' built scatteringly, lying at length, as it were, upon the brow of a
hiU hanging over the river.' It is, perhaps, chiefly known as the
scene of a skirmish and an engagement during the Civil War. The
skirmish, already mentioned, took place when the Parliament's
partisans set out from Barnstaple and Bideford to attack Colonel
228

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
Digby, who, with a smaU force, had established himself there.
It was indeed a case of fortune favouring the bold, for the
Royalists were taken unawares, and had it not been for the daring
of ' the Colonel, whose courage and vivacity upon action was
very eminent, and commonly very fortunate,' the day might well
have been with the other side. Colonel Digby had divided a
smaU number of horse into little parties in different fields, and
was waiting for some of his troops to join him before attacking
the enemy, when a band of about fifty Parliamentary musketeers
came towards the ground where they stood. Realizing that, if
these once gained possession of the high banks between the two
forces, his party must be driven off, Colonel Digby, with instant
decision, took four or five officers with him, and charged with
such vigour that the raw country troops, smitten with panic,
threw down their arms and ran, ' carrying so infectious a fear
with them, that the whole body of troops was seized by it and fled.'
Colonel Digby followed, with all the horse at his disposal, ' till/
says Clarendon complacently, ' their swords were blunted with
slaughter.' Perhaps the Royalists were more anxious to impress
a salutary warning against the sin of rebeUion than to kiU the
fugitives, for Clarendon finishes the account by saying that
the rebels ' were scattered and dispersed all over the country,
and scarce a man without a cut over the face and head, or some
other hurt, that wrought more upon their neighbours towards
their conversion, than any sermon could be preached to them.'
This affair practicaUy brought about the submission of Barnstaple,
Bideford, and Appledore.
The second engagement was of a far more important character,
with fatal consequences to the King's cause in the West —
already in a hopeless condition. In the early spring of 1646, Lord
Hopton marched to Torrington, and was waiting there for the
arrival of about half his ammunition and provisions, when he
heard that Sir Thomas Fairfax, with a large army, was in the
immediate neighbourhood. To the best of his power, he hurriedly
made such defences as were possible. His position was excellent,
for Torrington stands on a hill almost surrounded by deep valleys,
229

Devon [ch. xi
but his force was very inferior in numbers to that of the enemy.
It is curious that the second engagement at Torrington began
accidentaUy. Fairfax's army had had a series of encounters with
an outlying troop of Royalist dragoons on approaching the town,
and by the time they drew near the day was nearly spent. As the
Royalists were weU prepared for their arrival, the lanes and fields
near the town being lined with musketeers, the Parliamentary
Generals resolved to stay at a little distance and wait for the
morning to attack. The Royalist word for the night was, ' We
are with you,' and their sign, that each man had a handkerchief
tied round his right arm. The word for the other army was,
' Emmanuel, God with us,' and their signal, a sprig of furze in
every hat.
About nine o'clock a noise in the town suddenly awoke the
suspicion that the Royalists were retreating, so, says Sprigg,
' that we might get certain knowledge whether they were going
off or not, a smaU party of dragoons were set to fire on the enemy
near the barricadoes and hedges ; the enemy answered us with a
round voUey of shot.' Whereupon the engagement became
general, and both sides fought ' in the dark for some two
hours, tiU we beat them from the hedges and within their
barricadoes, which were very strong, and where some of
their men disputed the entrance of our forces with push of pike
and butt-end of musket for a long time.' At length the Parlia
mentary troops prevaUed, and their horse ' chased the enemy
through the town.' Lord Hopton, bringing up the rear, had his
horse shot dead under him in the middle of the town, but, in spite
of the fact that he was slightly wounded, he made yet another
effort to rally his troops, and they, ' facing about in the street,
caused our foot to retreat.' Then a body of horse dashed up with
a vehemence that the Royalists could not stand against, and they
were obliged to fly ; ' one of the officers publicly reporting,' says
Clarendon bitterly, ' lest the soldiers should not make haste
enough in running away, that he saw their general run through
the body with a pike.'
Scarcely were the Parliamentarians in possession of the town,
230

TORRINGTON

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
when a frightful explosion occurred. The church, which unknown
to them, Lord Hopton had used as a powder-magazine, was blown
up and about two hundred prisoners whom the Roundheads had
confined in the church were kiUed. In his account of the disaster,
Sprigg, who was obviously, from passages in his writings, a man
of warm feelings, and a clergyman by profession, refers very
cheerfuUy to the fact that ' few were slain besides the enemy's
(that were prisoners in the church where the magazine was blown
up), and most of our men that guarded them, who were kiUed
and buried in the ruins,' and not for one moment does the melan
choly fate of the many victims seem to damp his joy.
The victory was a very important one, and a public thanks
giving was held in consequence — indeed, this was the last real
resistance made by the Royalists in the West.
The church has been very unfortunate, for since it was rebuilt
in 1651 the tower has been blown down, and it feU through the
roof, doing a good deal of damage. An old print shows this
tower to have been a wonderful erection of slates and tiles,
projecting eaves, and irregular gables, surmounted by a little
dome, with a weathercock on the top of all. It was replaced by
a slender, tapering, but more conventional spire.
Margaret, Countess of Richmond, and mother of Henry VII,
lived here for some time, and left a generous gift, for, ' pitying the
long path the pastor had from home to church,' she ' gave to him
and his successors the manor-house with lands thereto ' : and
on this site of the manor-house stands the present vicarage.
Besides making this gift, ' on every occasion a friend to learning,
even in its infancy, she built a room for a library, and furnished
it with the most useful books then to be had.'
Torridge Castle, a building of the fourteenth century, stood on
the verge of a steep descent to the river. In Risdon's day it was
almost gone, the ruins had ' for many years hovered, which, by
extreme age, is almost brought to its period;' and in 1780 the
chapel, the only part left, was partly pulled down and afterwards
turned into a school.
About a mile or so to the east stands Stevenstone — a new house,
231

Devon [ch. xi
in the midst of a fine deer-park. For over three centuries Steven-
stone was owned by the RoUes, and when Fairfax's troops ad
vanced on Torrington, two hundred dragoons were being enter
tained by ' Master RoUs,' and the advance was disputed by these
dragoons, who, after a long and straggling fight in the narrow
and dirty lanes, eventually fell back on the town. Here Fairfax
took up his quarters after the town had been taken.
A few miles upstream the Torridge passes Potheridge, the birth
place of General Monk, whose ancestors had owned property here
since the reign of Henry III.
The character of George Monk is extraordinarUy interesting,
a curious point being that, though he was essentiaUy cautious,
level-headed, and, as Clarendon says, ' not enthusiastical,' and
therefore unlikely to rouse very vivid sentiments in others, as a
matter of fact he awoke violent feelings either of glowing en
thusiasm or of extreme bitterness. It is easy to understand his
unpopularity with keen partisans who looked on their opponents
and all their ways with abhorrence, and therefore failed to under
stand how an honest man could fight for the King, then accept a
command from Cromwell, and finaUy become the prime mover
of the Restoration. But — ' If a man does not keep pace with his
companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer ' ;
and it may well be that the beat that ruled Monk's steps was the
peaceable government and welfare of the people, and especiaUy
of the army, and to the personal claims and rights of the rulers
he was indifferent. The general state of things needed reform
badly enough. Monk's acts were never inconsistent, but he had
a genius for silence. When war in England broke out, he returned
from fighting for the King in Holland, to fight for him at home.
When CromweU offered him his release from the Tower, at the
price of helping to subdue the Irish rebels, his accepting the
command was to the advantage of this country.
To begin with, Monk was forced to turn soldier with unexpected
suddenness. The Under-Sheriff of Exeter publicly affronted
Sir Thomas Monk, on which his son, aged sixteen, went to Exeter
and gave the offender ' the chastisement he deserved (without
232

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
any intention of murder).' This step created a good deal of
disturbance, and to avoid more, ' our young gentleman ' was
packed off to ' the School of War in the Low Countries.'
He was taken prisoner early in the Civil War, and after over
two years of close imprisonment, agreed to accompany the Lord
Deputy Lisle to Munster. After leaving Ireland he gained
brilliant successes at sea over the Dutch. Prince tells a tale that
is characteristic of him and of CromweU. The seamen who had
served under Monk had been told that they should receive their
fuU pay as soon as the prizes were sold off, but were unreasonably
impatient ; and while Monk was actuaUy at Whitehall putting
their claims before the Protector, news was brought him ' that
three or four thousand seamen were come as far as Charing Cross
with swords, pistols, and clubs, to demand their pay. General
Monk, thinking himself wronged in this, ran down to meet them,
drew his sword, and feU upon them; CromweU foUowing with one or
two attendants, cut and hew the seamen, and drove them before
him.' Prince finishes the story with applause of the boldness that
' should drive such great numbers of such furious creatures as
English seamen.' Later, Monk's command in Scotland resulted
in a state of order and quietness then very unusual in that
country. Accusations of dealing unfairly with the Parliament in 1659
may be leveUed against him with some justice, but how was
loyalty possible to a household so divided against itself as were
the rulers of the Kingdom ? The Army and the Parliament were
in bitter antagonism to each other, and Lambert's soldiers had
shut the Parliament out of Westminster. The members of the
Rump Parliament, the earlier ' secluded ' members, the Presby
terians, the Independents under Lambert, the Royalists, and
smaUer parties, were all working for their own ends. When Monk
marched south, a deputation was sent to meet him from the
Council of Officers, ostensibly to make terms between their army
and his, but also with the secret object of establishing an under
standing between him and Fleetwood that would enable the
latter to get rid of his friend and colleague, General Lambert.
233

Devon [ch. xi
Meanwhile Lambert, jealous of Fleetwood, sent a private and
friendly message to Monk by Major-General Morgan, who not
only betrayed his party at Lambert's bidding, but betrayed
that patriot as weU, for at the same time that he gave the
message, he also delivered a secret letter from Lord Fairfax,
begging Monk to adopt a course which would have been fatal to
Lambert. And the country as a whole was heartily sick of both
factions. Had Monk openly declared himself for the Stuarts, at the time
that he first began to prepare for the Restoration, he would
probably have imperilled the success of the whole scheme, and
most certainly would have plunged the country again into the
horrors of Civil War. When he did reveal his negotiations with
the exiled Court at Breda, ' London would not have borne many
days, or even many hours longer, the extreme tension it was then
suffering — the City one way, Westminster the other way ; Monk's
army between them, and Fleetwood's wolves prowling aU round,
and ready to pour in.'
Apart from all else, tribute must be paid to Monk's marveUous
skiU in so ordering affairs that the Restoration was brought
about almost without the cost of a drop of blood. During the
winter of 1659, a far larger army than his own lay for many weeks
a few mUes to the south on the Border, sent there with the
especial purpose of watching and if necessary attacking him.
But Monk knew how to bide his time and to prolong negotiations
to suit his convenience tiU in the end, without a blow being struck,
he marched his army south to London. Masterly was the diplo
macy and grasp of detail which, on the eve of announcing the
Restoration, dispersed over the country aU soldiers who would
be inclined to stand by the Parliament, making any serious
attempt at a revolt on their part impossible.
One failing his most fervent admirer cannot ignore — a strong
leaning to avarice. But his popularity was unbounded, and ' it
was his singular fortune to win in succession the affection of
three very different populations, those of Dublin, Edinburgh, and
London.' In Ireland his men were devoted to him. ' A soldier,
234

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
tho' sick and without shoes, would strive to go out with honest
George Monk.' After the death of CromweU he was offered the
crown, but he refused, ' holding it a greater honour to be an
honest subject than a great usurper.'
During the frightful visitation of the Plague, the Earl of Craven,
and the Archbishop of Canterbury and Monk, were the only high
officials who stayed at their posts, and exposed themselves per-
petuaUy to the ' seeds of death.' So great was the public con
fidence in him, that at the time of the Great Fire, he being then
at sea, ' the people did believe and say : " If he had been there, the
city had not been burned." ' No idol of the mob could ask a more
whole-hearted adoration.
The popular feeling is expressed in a rather limping acrostic on
his name, of which I quote only the first quarter. It was caUed
' England's Heroick Champion, or The ever-renowned General
George Monck.' The date is about 1659-60.
' G ood may'st thou be, as thou are great,
E ver regarded,
O r like Alexander compleat,
R ichly rewarded.
G ainst thy virtue none dare stand,
E xcluded Members now are
Back return' d by thy hand.
' M any miles didst thou compass,
O nly us to free ;
N othing by thee too hard was,
C ompared to be.
K eep us in thy protection !
We were all greatly distrest ;
Bring thou in all the best.
' G reat bonfires then was made,
E xpressing joy,
O f us that sorrow did invade,
R efresh our annoy.
G uard us with thy aid, we desire ;
E xaltation we all will raise
Unto heaven in thy praise.
235

Devon [ch.

XI

' M uch good hast thou already done,
O ver this land ;
N ow our hearts thou hast quite won :
C ommand ! Command !
K indly we will entertain
Those that were excluded,
For they have not intruded.'
In later years, as Duke of Albemarle, he returned to the estate
of his forefathers, and rebuilt Potheridge in a very magnificent
manner. It has since been pulled down.
If the traveUer foUows the Torridge upstream, he wiU be led
south tiU he is within two mUes of Hatherleigh, and here the
river curves away westwards, and then in a northerly direction.
In the spring, this clear, rippling stream has a special charm —
thousands and thousands of daffodds grow along the banks though
only sparingly in the fields beyond, so that, if the river happens
to be low and the water not to be seen at a little distance, the
windings of the river through the wide green valley are marked
by two broad lines of pale, clear yeUow.
Hatherleigh Moor was given a bad name very long ago. The
saying is double-edged :
' The people are poor, as Hatherleigh Moor,
And so they have been for ever and ever.'
But the people of the little town are able to graze their
cattle and cut furze for fuel on it. Hatherleigh parish has two
holy wells. St John's Well stands on the moor, and there used to
be a pretty custom of fetching its water for a baptism. The water
of St. Mary's Well was good for the eyes, and within the memory
of persons still alive pagan traditions were observed around it
on Midsummer Eve. Amidst ' wild scenes of revelry . . . fires were
lit, feasting and dancing were indulged in.'
For some years, in this part of the country, whUe he was curate
to his father, who had the neighbouring living of Iddesleigh,
the renowned ' Jack ' Russell preached on Sundays and hunted
on weekdays. He was immensely popular, and so many stories
are told of him and his hounds that it has been already said,
236

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
' Russell is fast becoming mythical.' He was not the ideal of
a modem parish priest, but this is the opinion of one who remem
bers him. The writer begins by speaking of a friend of RusseU's
as a man who ' seems ... to have been as good a Christian as
he was a gentleman ; not ecstatic perhaps, but in the sense of
leading a godly, righteous and sober life. And,' he goes on, ' the
same may with certainty be predicated of Russell . . . Russell,
like a wise man, got right home to Nature. It was not for nothing
that the gipsy chieftain left him his rat-catcher's belt, and begged
for burial at his hands in Swymbridge churchyard.'
Perhaps the following story" of him is not quite so well known
as many others :
Mr Russell once advertised for a curate : ' Wanted, a curate for
Swymbridge : must be a gentleman of moderate and orthodox
views.' Soon after this advertisement had appeared Mr Hooker, Vicar
of Buckerell, was standing in a shop door in Barnstaple, ' when
he was accosted by Will Chappie, the parish clerk of Swym
bridge, who entered the grocer's shop. " Havee got a coorate yet
for Swymbridge, Mr Chappie ?" inquired the grocer, in Mr Hooker's
hearing. " No, not yet, sir," replied the sexton. " Master's
nation purticler, and the man must be orthodox." " What does
that mean ?" inquired the grocer. " Well, I reckon it means he
must be a purty good rider."
• Here we must leave the Torridge altogether, and go eleven
miles south-east to the point where the Taw leaves the uplands
of Dartmoor. Almost the first viUage that the river passes is
South Zeal, close to South Tawton, and near South Zeal was the
old home of the Oxenhams, the famUy about whom the weU-
known legend of the white bird is told. When an Oxenham is
about to die, a white bird flaps at the window or flies about the
sickroom, and stories of the bird having been seen at such times
have been told at intervals, through two centuries. The evidence
in some instances seems fairly good, but where an apparition is
expected it is not unlikely imagination may play tricks, or a
chance event may be interpreted as an omen.
237

Devon [ch. xi
Lysons quotes from Mr Chappie's manuscript coUections a case
that happened in 1743, the story being given to Mr Chappie by the
doctor. Mr William Oxenham was ill, and ' when the bird came
into his chamber, he observed upon the tradition as connected
with his family, but added he was not sick enough to die, and
that he should cheat the bird, and this was a day or two before
his death, which took place after a short illness.'
It is necessary to pass over thirteen or fourteen miles, but at
Chumleigh one must turn aside to the east, for about six miles in
that direction was the ancient home of the Stucleys. Affeton
Castle has been for many years altogether in ruins, but in the
middle of the last century Sir George Stucley roofed over the
old gate-house and made it habitable as a shooting-box. This
is the only part of the castle stiU standing, though the farm
house close by is no doubt built upon some of the foundations.
' Lusty Stukeley ' (the name was spelt in several ways) was far
from among the worthiest of his family, but distinctly the most
entertaining. His ideas were certainly ' spacious ' enough for
the great days in which he lived, though he was too crack-
brained and full of self to fall into line with his betters, whose
deeds still bear rich fruit. ' He was,' says Fuller severely,
' one of good parts, but valued the less by others, because over
prized by himself.'
If it be allowed that the personality of everyone inclines to
being drab or flamboyant, his may be compared to fireworks.
Thomas Stukely, who was born about 1530, was for a younger
brother unusually well endowed, ' but his profluous prodigality
soon wasted it ; yet then, not anyway dejected in mind, he pro
jected to people Florida, and there in those remote countries
to play rex.' He ' blushed not ' to tell Queen Elizabeth ' that
he preferred rather to be sovereign of a mole-hiU than the
highest subject to the greatest king in Christendom.' His
audacity reached the point of bandying words with the Queen,
who seems, from the polite irony of her tone, to have been amused
by his vanity.
' I hope,' said the Queen, ' I shaU hear from you when you
238

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
are stated in your Principality ?' 'I will write unto you,' quoth
Stuckley. ' In what language ?' said the Queen. He returned,
' In the stUe of Princes, To our dear Sister.'
And on this Stukely departed, but not to Florida, for he met
with reverses which dashed his plans, but not his spirits. West-
cote quotes ' a ditty made by him, or of him,' apparently at
this time : ' Have over the waters to Florida.
Farewell good London now ;
Through long delays on land and seas,
I'm brought, I cannot tell how.
' In Plymouth town, in a thread-bare gown.
And money never a deal :
Hay ! trixi trim ! go trixi trim !
And will not a wallet do well ?'
Unfortunately, his career was a great failure. From sunning
himself at the Court of Elizabeth, he turned to paths of disloyalty,
and became the ' Pope's pensioner.' The Pope created him
Marquis of Leinster, and added several minor titles, and then this
' Title-top heavy General ' attempted in vain to carry treason
able help to the Irish rebels. Yet he had ' the fortune to die
honourably.' Arrived in Lisbon at the moment when the King of
Portugal was starting in a campaign to Barbary, Stukely was
persuaded to join his army, and fell, fighting gaUantly, at the
Battle of Alcasar, 1578.
' A Fatal Fight, where in one day was slain
Three Kings that were and one that would be fain.'
About five miles to the north, at King's Nympton, the PoUards
were settled for some generations, and many of them ' lived to
be as proper gentlemen as most in this or any other county.' Sir
Hugh PoUard fought in the CivU War, and as Governor of Dart
mouth Castle made a brave and resolute though unsuccessful
defence. After the Restoration, Charles II appointed him Comp-
troUer of the Household. It was said of Sir Hugh ' that he was
very active and venturous for his Majesty in the worst of Times,
and very hospitable and noble with him in the best.'
239

Devon [ch. xi
Five miles north of Bishop's Nympton is the old town of South
Molton, and the manor was part of the demesne of Edward the
Confessor. In the reign of Edward I, Lord Martin held it ' by
sergeantry to find a man with a bow and three arrows to attend
the Earl of Gloucester when he goeth to Gower [in Wales] to
hunt.' In the spring of 1654, Charles II was proclaimed King in South
Molton, for the Wutshire gentlemen who had risen against the
Government, headed by Sir Joseph Wagstaff and led by Colonel
Penruddock and Mr Hugh Groves, made their way so far west
before they were overpowered. Sir Joseph escaped, but the other
two leaders were beheaded at Exeter.
A little to the north of the town, and about eight mUes south
of Barnstaple, are the wide grounds of Castle HiU — broad lawns
and slopes, clear streams, and rich feathery masses of woodland
that, shaded and softened by distance, spread far away.
The Fortescues, not long after the Conquest, were granted
lands in Devonshire, and in one generation after another they have
come forward to take a part in public affairs — often a Samson's
share of toil. Sir John Fortescue fought at Agincourt, and was
chosen Governor of Meaux by Henry V. Sir Edward Fortescue,
when he had surrendered Salcombe Castle, had the consolation of
knowing that this fort had been held for the King later than
any other place in Devonshire. Sir Faithful and Sir Nicholas
Fortescue were distinguished commanders in the same war. In
the reign of Henry VI, Sir Henry Fortescue was Lord Chief
Justice of Ireland, though his fame is very much eclipsed by the
greater brilliancy of his brother.
Sir John Fortescue, Lord Chief Justice, is usually spoken of as
Lord ChanceUor, though it is doubted whether he ever received
a valid appointment ; for when the honour was bestowed upon
him, Yorkists and Lancastrians were already at war. As the
trouble deepened, Sir John laid aside his robe for his sword, and
fought bravely for the ' falling cause ' in the terrible battle of Palm
Sunday. Later, he accompanied the King and Queen in their
flight, and while abroad, with courageous optimism, began to
240

ch. xi] The Taw and the Porridge
instruct the Prince in the ' lawes of bis country and the duties of
a King of England.' Of Sir John's two celebrated treatises —
De Natura Legis Naturae, and De Laudibus Legunv Angliae —
the latter and most famous was specially compUed for the benefit
of the Prince, and Sir Edward Coke has enthusiasticaUy declared
it ' worthy to be written in letters of gold for the weight and
worthiness thereof.'
A Fortescue of a later generation who ' took to the law,' even
tually became Master of the Rolls. He was a great friend of
the poet Pope, and from the gentle mockery in some of the long
letters of the poet stiU in existence, it would seem that Mr Fortes
cue had a proper share of prejudice in favour of his own county.
In 1724 Pope writes : ' I am grieved to teU you that there is one
Devonshire man not honest ; for my man Robert proves a vile
feUow, and I have discarded him.' And in another letter, nearly
ten years later, in March, 1734-35 : ' Twitnam is very cold these
easterly winds ; but I presume they do not blow in the happy
regions of Devonshire.'
Sir John Fortescue, born in 1533, had the honour of being
chosen 'Preceptor to the Princess Elizabeth.' Later he was
appointed Keeper of the Great Wardrobe ; whereupon it was
remarked that Sir John Fortescue was one whom the Queen
trusted with the ornaments of her soul and body. ' Two men,'
Queen Elizabeth would say, ' outdid her expectations, — Fortescue
for integrity, and Walsingham for subtlety and officious services.'
Towards the end of the eighteenth century a member of one
of the branches of Fortescues who settled in Ireland was created
Lord Clermont. He was very much liked by the Prince of Wales,
and both Lord and Lady Clermont were a great deal at Court.
; In WraxaU's ' Posthumous Memoirs ' there is an amusing account
of an evening spent by Lady Clermont in launching into London
society the Count Fersen who was noted for his devotion to
Marie Antoinette. Already ' Swedish Envoy at the Court of
France,' he had arrived in England, ' bringing letters of intro
duction from the Duchesse de Polignac to many persons of dis
tinction here, in particular for Lady Clermont. Desirous to present
241 Q

T)evon [ch. xi
him in the best company, soon after his arrival she conducted him
in her own carriage to Lady WiUiam Gordon's assembly in Picca-
diUy. She had scarcely entered the room and made Count Fersen
known to the principal individuals of both sexes, when the Prince
of Wales was announced. I shall recount the sequel in Lady
Clermont's own words to me, only a short time subsequent to the
fact. "His Royal Highness took no notice of me on his first arrival,
but in a few minutes afterwards, coming up to me : ' Pray, Lady
Clermont,' said he, ' is that man whom I see here Count Fersen,
the queen's favourite ?' ' The gentleman,' answered I, ' to
whom your royal highness alludes is Count Fersen ; but so far
from being a favourite of the queen, he has not yet been presented
at Court.' ' D  n !' exclaimed he, ' you don't imagine I
mean my mother ?' ' Sir,' I replied, ' whenever you are pleased
to use the word " queen " without any addition, I shaU always
understand it to mean my queen. If you speak of any other queen,
I must entreat that you wdl be good enough to say the Queen of
France, or of Spain.' The Prince made no reply ; but after having
walked once or twice round Count Fersen, returning to me : ' He's
certainly a very handsome feUow,' observed he. ' Shall I have
the honour, sir,' said I, ' to present him to you ?' He instantly
turned on his heel, without giving me any answer ; and I soon
afterwards quitted Lady William Gordon's house, carrying Count
Fersen with me. We drove to Mrs St John's, only a few doors
distant, who had likewise a large party on that evening. . When I
had introduced him to various persons there, I said to him,
' Count Fersen, I am an old woman and infirm, who always go
home to bed at eleven. You will, I hope, amuse yourself. Good
night.' Having thus done the honours as well as I could to
a stranger who had been so highly recommended to me, I
withdrew into the ante-chamber and sate down alone in a corner,
waiting for my carriage.
' " While there the Prince came in, and I naturally expected,
after his recent behaviour, that he would rather avoid than accost
me. On the contrary, advancing up to me : ' What are you doing
here, Lady Clermont ?' asked he. ' I am waiting for my coach,
242

ch. xi] The Taw and the Torridge
sir,' said I, ' in order to go home.' ' Then,' replied he, ' I will put
you into it and give you my arm down the stairs.' ' For heaven's
sake, sir,' I exclaimed, ' don't attempt it ! I am old, very lame,
and my sight is imperfect ; the consequence of your offering me
your arm wiU be that, in my anxiety not to detain your royal
highness, I shall hurry down and probably tumble from the top
of the staircase to the foot.' ' Very likely,' answered he, ' but
if you tumble, I shall tumble with you. Be assured, however, that
I will have the pleasure of assisting you and placing you safely
in your carriage.' I saw that he was determined to repair the
rudeness with which he had treated me at Lady WUliam Gordon's,
and therefore acquiesced. He remained with me tUl the coach
was announced, conversed most agreeably on various topics, and as
he took care of me down the stairs, enjoined me at every step not
to hurry myself. Nor did he quit me when seated in the carriage,
remaining uncovered on the steps of the house tUl it drove off from
the door." '

243 Q 2

CHAPTER XII
Lundy, Lynmouth, and the Borders
of Exmoor
' Ay, ay, the year's awaking,
The fire's among the ling,
The beechen hedge is breaking,
The curlew's on the wing :
Primroses are out, lad,
On the high banks of Lee,
And the sun stirs the trout, lad,
From Brendon to the sea.
' I know what's in your heart, lad, —
The mare he used to hunt,
And her blue market-cart, lad,
With posies tied in front —
We miss them from the moor road.
They're getting old to roam ;
The road they're on's a sure road.
And nearer, lad, to home.'
H. Newbolt : April on Waggon Hill.
THE charm of the coast-line of North Devon lies partly
in its great irregularity. ' At one spot a headland,
some five hundred feet high, rough with furze-clad
projections at the top, and falling abruptly to a bay ;
then, perhaps, masses of a low, dark rock, girding a basin of
turf, as at Watermouth ; again, a recess and beach, with the
mouth of a stream ; a headland next in order, and so the dark
coast runs whimsicaUy eastward, passing from one shape to
another like a Proteus, until it unites with the massive sea-front
of Exmoor.' At the eastern ridge of the county, the hiU on which
Oldbarrow Camp stands rises more than eleven hundred feet
straight out of the sea.
Ilfracombe's tiny bay is almost surrounded by rocks, but a pier
was built by one of the Bourchiers, Earls of Bath, and his successors
244

LANTERN ROCK : ILFRACOMBE

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
— one Sir Bourchier Wrey after another — have improved and
enlarged it. Westcote speaks of it as ' a pretty harbour for ships
of smaU burden, but dangerous to come in in some winds, especiaUy
for strangers ; for whose better security they keep a continual
pharos to direct their course.' The lighthouse now stands on the
Lantern Rock, at the mouth of the harbour, where once stood a
little chapel dedicated to St Nicholas. The dedication explains
its position, for St Nicholas was a sea-saint, whose protection
used to be speciaUy implored as a defence against shipwreck.
Nowadays Ilfracombe is of no consequence as a port, but six
centuries ago it must have been of some importance, for when
Edward III was besieging Paris it contributed six ships and
eighty-two mariners to a fleet. Although the nucleus of the
town is old, and indeed consisted only of one ' scattering street,*
its development is very modern, and has happened since it became
popular as a watering-place.
The architecture of the church is very varied. The tower is
probably Norman, finished by Perpendicular battlements and
pinnacles ; it is buUt above the centre of the north aisle, and
projects into the church. There are also remains of Transitional
work, and in the chancel is a Decorated piscina.
Leading inland from Ilfracombe are ' lovely combes, with their
green copses, and ridges of rock, and golden furze, fruit-laden
orchards, and slopes of emerald pasture, pitched as steep as house-
roofs, where the red long-horns are feeding, with their tads a
yard above their heads.' About twenty-two miles to the west,
the sea-line is broken by an island, about which there is an in
definable air of romance. Lundy is three and a half miles long,
its greatest width is a few yards short of a mUe, and it is sur
rounded by high and dangerous cliffs and rocks — too well known
even in the present day by the ships wrecked on them. Perhaps
those oftenest heard of are the reefs of the Hen and Chickens,
' fringed with great insular rocks, bristling up amid the sea/
which dashes on them in a never-ceasing cloud of foam on the
north, and the fatal Shutter on the south-west. Lundy has been
described as a ' lofty table-headed granite rock. . . . The cliffs
245

Devon [ch. xii
and adjacent sea are alive with seabirds, every ledge and jutting
rock being alive with them, or they are whirling round in clouds,
filling the air with their discordant screams.' Westcote remarked :
' In breeding time, in some places, you shall hardly know where
to set your foot but on eggs,' and adds that it affords ' conies
plentifuUy, doves, stares (which Alexander Nectan termeth
Ganymede's birds).' Mr Chanter translates ' Ganymede's birds
to be gannets, as there were very many of these birds there ' ;
but an older commentator soars higher, and thinks of eagles and
ostriches !
A description of Lundy as it was in the middle of the eighteenth
century is dimly suggestive of Robinson Crusoe. ' WUd fowl were
exceeding plenty, and a vast number of rabbits. The island was
overgrown with ferns and heath, which made it almost impossible
to go to the extreme of the island. Had it not been for the supply
of rabbits and young sea-guUs our tables would have been but
poorly furnished, rats being so plenty that they destroyed every
night what was left of our repast by day. Lobsters were tolerably
plenty, and some other fish we caught. The deer and goats were
very wUd and difficult to get at. The path to the house was so
narrow and steep that it was scarcely possible for a horse to ascend
it. The inhabitants by the assistance of a rope climbed up a rock
in which were steps cut to place their feet, to a cave or magazine
where Mr Benson lodged his goods.' There have been considerable
differences of opinion about the name, and Mr Baring-Gould
believes : ' Lundy takes its name from the puffins, in Scandi
navian Lund, that at all times frequented it ; but it had an earlier
Celtic name, Caer Sidi, and is spoken of as a mysterious abode in
the Welsh Mabinogion.'
Many centuries later it seems to have had the power of inspiring
fabulous tales, for Miss Celia Fiennes, who looked at it in her
journey from CornwaU, makes a statement almost as wonderful
as some of Sir John Mandevfile's tales of Barnacle Trees and
other marvels. She says : ' I saw the isle of Lundy, which formerly
belonged to my Grandfather, William Lord Viscount Say and
Seale, which does abound with fish and rabbits and aU sorts of
246

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
ff owles, one bird y' lives partly in the water and partly out and so
may be caUed an amphibious creature ; it's true that one foot is
like a turkey, the other a goose's foote ; it lays its eggs in a place
the sun shines on and sets it so exactly upright on the small end,
and there it remaines till taken up, and all the art and skill of
persons cannot set it up soe againe to abide.'
Legends apart, Lundy has been the scene of many thrUling
adventures, and has had an eventful history. The advantages
of its position for watching and faUing upon richly laden mer
chant ships on their way to and from Bristol and other towns,
and the great difficulties that met any enemy trying to land,
resulted in the island being appropriated by one band of pirates
after another, of whom the De Moriscoes were the most cele
brated. Henry II, getting tired of their turbulence and lawless
ness, granted the island to the Knights Templars, but it does not
appear they were ever able to establish themselves there. In 1158
the raids of the Moriscoes became so intolerable that a special
tax was imposed in Devon and Cornwall for the defence of their
ports, and for furnishing means for an attack on Lundy, but Sir
William de Morisco seems to have triumphantly survived the
storm. Later he was taken prisoner by the French in a sea-fight,
but was eventually released.
Sir WiUiam, his son, was charged, upon the evidence of a semi-
lunatic, with conspiring to assassinate Henry III, and on the
strength of it was condemned to death — a sentence that, as he
fled to Lundy, was not carried out for four years, when he was
taken by stratagem. Lundy was then seized by the King, but
forty years later the Moriscoes once more gained possession of it.
Edward II granted the island to one of the Despencers, and in his
own distress attempted to take refuge here :
' To Lundy, which in Sabrin's mouth doth stand,
Carried with hope (still hoping to find ease),
Imagining it were his native land,
England itself ; Severn, the narrow seas ;
With this conceit, poor soul ! himself doth please.
And sith his rule is over-ruled by men.
On birds and beasts he'll king it once again. )
247

Devon [ch. xii

' 'Tis treble death a freezing death to feel ;
For him on whom the sun hath ever shone,
Who hath been kneeled unto, can hardly kneel,
Nor hardly beg what once hath been his own.
A fearful thing to tumble from a throne !
Fain would he be king of a little isle ;
All were his empire bounded in a mile.'
But the winds were against him, and he was driven on to the
Welsh coast, into the hands of his enemies.
During the reign of Henry VIII, French pirates seized the
island, and plundered and robbed at large, but they were accounted
for by the valour of CloveUy fishermen, who made a determined
attack, and kiUed or made prisoners of the whole band. In 1608
a commission was held to consider the grievances of merchants
who complained of piracy in the Bristol Channel ; and in 1610
' another commission was issued to the Earl of Nottingham to
authorize the town of Barnstaple to send out ships for the capture
of pirates, and the deposition was taken of one WiUiam Young,
who had been made prisoner by Captain Salkeld, who entitled
himself " King of Lundy," and was a notorious pirate.' Two
years later ' the John of Braunton and the Mayflower of Barnstaple
caught as notorious Rogues as any in England.' After another
thirteen years : ' The Mayor of Bristol reports to the Countil that
three Turkish pirate vessels had surprised and taken the island of
Lundy with the inhabitants, and had threatened to burn Ilfra
combe.' During an inquiry foUowing this report, evidence was
given that seems very curious when one considers the date, nearly
halfway through the seventeenth century : ' From Nicholas
Cullen, " That the Turks had taken out of a church in Cornwall
about sixty men, and carried them away prisoners." '
French pirates made Lundy their headquarters three years
later, and in June, 1630, Captain Plumleigh reported that
' Egypt was never more infested with caterpillars than the
Channel with Biscayers. On the 23rd instant there came out of
St Sebastian twenty sail of sloops ; some attempted to land on
Lundy, but were repulsed by the inhabitants.'
One of the most conspicuous of all Lundy's owners was a certain
248

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
Thomas Benson, merchant of Bideford, who, with great sang
froid and considerable humour, combined smuggling and piracy
with being a member of Parliament. Unfortunately, his varied
occupations after a while brought him to grief. Amongst other
charges, it was proved that he had ' entered into a contract with
the Government for the exportation of convicts to Virginia and
Maryland, and gave the usual bond to the sheriff for so doing.
But instead of doing this he shipped them to Lundy, where he
employed them in building waUs and other work in the island.
Every night they were locked up in the old keep of the Mariscoes.
He regarded himself as King of Lundy, and ruled with a high
hand.' In answering this accusation he offered the ingenious
excuse for his breach of contract : ' That he considered Lundy to
be quite as much out of the world as these colonies.'
From Ilfracombe, towards Lynton, the road at first foUows
the edge of the cliff, high above the sea. One tiny bay curves
inland tiU the road seems almost to overhang the water, blue-
green with undertones of grey, and the foam splashing on the
broken rocks. AU around is a sense of wide spaces and fresh
ness. Headland beyond headland rises to the east, the Little
Hangman, Great Hangman, and Highveer Point, softened by a
transparent grey haze. A little to the right of them are the first
ridges of Exmoor, some long, some short, ending in full curves
and slopes clearly outlined against the sides of their higher
neighbours, and the highest against the sky. In the prettiest of
hoUows, Watermouth Castle looks down a slope of richest pasture
to the sea sparkling below, and a great mass of rock shields it
from storms blowing off the water. Clouds of foliage soften the
lines of the hiU rising behind the Castle.
A short distance inland is the viUage of Berrynarbour, chiefly
to be remembered as the birthplace of John Jewel, Bishop of
Salisbury, ' a perfect rich gem, and true jewel indeed,' over whose
virtues Westcote falls into panegyrics. ' If anywhere the observa
tion of Chrysostom be true, that there lies a great hidden treasure
in names, surely it may rightly be said to be here ; grace in John
and eminent perfection in Jewel.' 249

Devon [ch. xii
John Jewel was born in 1522, and when very young was sent
to Oxford, where he showed a passion for learning, and before
long became famous as a lecturer and preacher. ' His behaviour
was so virtuous that his heaviest adversary . . . could not not
withstanding forbear to yield this testimony to his commenda
tion : " I should love thee, Jewel, wert thou not a Zuinglian. In
thy faith thou art a heretic, but sure in thy life thou art an angel." '
Jewel's friendship with Peter Martyr, and other marks of his
Protestant leanings, were the reason of his being expelled, in
Queen Mary's days, from Corpus Christi CoUege. But he had ' a
little Zoar to fly unto ' — Broadgates Hall, now Pembroke CoUege.
As danger became more imminent, he escaped to Switzerland,
and did not come back to England until Elizabeth's reign had
dawned. Fuller's brief summary is that he ' wrote learnedly,
preached painfully, lived piously, died peaceably, Anno Domini
1572.' And his ' memory ' (to return to Westcote) was ' a fragrant,
sweet-smelling odour, blown abroad not only in that diocese, but
generally through the whole kingdom.'
Our author finishes his remarks on Berrynarbour by quoting
an epitaph then to be found in the church, a building which has
a fine Perpendicular tower with battlement and pinnacles. The
memorial was to Nicholas Harper :
' Harper ! the music of thy life.
So sweet, so free from jar or strife ;
To crown thy skill hath rais'd thee higher,
And plac'd thee in the angels' choir :
And though that death hath thrown thee down,
In heaven thou hast thy harp and crown.'
A short distance farther on, the road runs down into Combe
Martin Bay, following the little creek that narrows and narrows'
inland between high rock waUs till two smaU houses seem almost
to block it, and the road twists round them and runs up the
enclosed vaUey beyond. The viUage is an odd one, for it is over
a mile long, but hardly any houses stand away from the main
street, which is made up of cob-walled, thatched cottages, quite
large shops, little slate-roofed houses, and vUlas in their own garden,
250

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
aU jumbled together as if they had been thrown down accidentaUy.
Masses of red valerian, and some of the graceful bright rose-bay
wiUow-herb, give colour to the banks and overhang the waUs.
Combe Martin has the rare distinction amongst English parishes
of owning mines with veins of silver as well as lead. Camden tells
us that the sUver-mines ' were first discovered in Edward the
First's days, when three hundred and fifty men were brought from
the Peak in Derbyshire, to work here.' This statement Fuller
amplifies by the note that ' It was forged for the Lady Eleanor
Dutchesse of Barr, daughter to the said King, who married the
year before.'
In the reign of Edward III the mines yielded the King ' great
profits towards carrying on the French war,' and Henry V ' made
good use of them,' but after that they were neglected for a long
whfle. In Queen Elizabeth's reign, Adrian GUbert, Sir Humphrey's
brother, began to work them again, and Sir Beavis Bulmer
foUowed with considerable success, ' by whose mineral skill great
quantity of sUver was landed and refined.'
The Queen presented the Earl of Bath with a rich and fair sUver
cup made here, bearing this inscription :
' In Martin's-Comb long lay I hid,
Obscure, depress'd with grosser soil ;
Debased much with mixed lead,
Till Bulmer came, whose skill and toil
Refined me so pure and clean
As richer nowhere else is seen.
' And adding yet a farther grace,
By fashion he did enable
Me worthy for to take a place
To serve at any prince's table.
Comb-Martin gave the ore alone,
Bulmer fining and fashion.'
The mines have been worked at intervals since, and as late as
1845 a smelting-house was built in the vaUey.
The church is of rose-coloured stone, and has a high battle-
mented tower, in which are niches with figures in them. There is
a good screen, with paintings of the Apostles on the panels. In the
251

Devon [ch. xii
south aisle is a monument to the wife of WiUiam Hancock, ' an
effigy the size of life, exquisitely and elaborately sculptured in
white marble. It bears the date 1634. Dame Hancock is repre
sented in the dress of that time, covered with point lace and looped
with knots of riband ; she has a pearl necklace round her throat
and her hair in curls, and bears some resemblance to the portraits
of Henrietta Maria, queen of Charles I.'
From Combe Martin the road to Lynton turns inland and makes
a deep curve to the south, and two or three mUes from its most
southerly point, and about ten miles from Ilfracombe, is Arlington
Court, the home of one of the many branches of that great North
Devon family, the Chichesters. The first of this name were settled
at Chichester in Sussex, but by maniage with the daughter and
heiress of John de Raleigh, about the middle of the fourteenth
century, John Chichester came into the possession of several
manors in North Devon. About a hundred and fifty years later,
Youlston, with other manors, was granted to ' John Chichester
and Margaret his wife and their heirs for ever, at the annual rent
of a rose, at the feast of St John the Baptist.'
Sir John Chichester was among the most zealous Protestants
in suppressing the rising that broke out in the West in 1549.
After the insurrection was crushed, ' it was declared that the
rebels used the church beUs in every parish to excite the people.
The beUs were taken down, and aU the clappers were made a
present to Sir John Chichester, as a reward for having assisted
against the rebels. Strype says : " No question he made good
benefit thereof." '
Sir John had reason to be proud of his seven sons, for four ' were
knights, one created a baron, and one a viscount.' Ireland was the
special field of their triumphs, and it is a curious coincidence that
four hundred years before one of their ancestors, ' Master Robert
de Cicester, . . . being a discreet person,' had been speciaUy
chosen to go on the King's business to that country.
Prince' caUs Sir Arthur Chichester, the second son, ' one of the
chiefest ornaments of our country.' He received his baptism of
fire in France, under the command of Henri IV, and ' for some
252

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
notable exploit done by him . . . was by that puissant prince
honoured with knighthood.' He fought in the Armada, and the
next year sailed as one of Drake's captains, and then became
lieutenant-colonel of a regiment in the West Indies. Fuller
speaks of his career in Ireland in the sympathetic tone of his
day towards that unhappy country. ' By his valour he was
effectuaUy assistant, first to plough and break up that barbarous
Nation by Conquest, and then to sow it with seeds of civility when
by King James made Lord Deputy of Ireland.' The ' good laws
and Provisions ' made by former Governors were ' like good lessons
set for a Lute out of tune, useless untiU the Instrument was fitted
for them.' Sir Arthur established new and wider circuits for
Justices of Assize, with the most exceUent results, for, ' like good
Planets in their several spheres, they carried the influence of
Justice round about the Kingdom.' And, if FuUer is right,
although he governed with a very firm and sometimes heavy
hand, he contrived to avoid the unpopularity which it would be
imagined must have faUen to his share amongst an oppressed
and rebeUious people. Indeed, not only did the Irish under his
authority seem, for a time, resigned to English rule, but they
even showed a passing desire to imitate their fashions ; for, ' in
conformity to the English Custome, many Irish began to cut
their mantles into cloaks.'
In 1612 Sir Arthur was created Lord Chichester of Belfast,
and, having resigned his office of Lord Deputy, was caUed back
to it two years later — the same year, his biographer observes,
that the Irish harp took its place in the arms of England. His
1 administration,' says Leland, ' was active, vigUant, cautious, firm,
and suited to a country scarcely emerging to civilization and order.'
A rather florid ' Elegie on the Death of my Lord Chichester '
reflects contemporary opinion :
' From Chichester's discent he tooke his name,
And in exchange of it, return'd such fame
By his brave deeds, as to that race shall be *
A radiant splendour for eternitie.
For fame shall write this Adage. Let it last
Like the sweete memorie of my Lord Belfast.'
253

Devon [ch. xii
In Swymbridge Church there is a monument of a youthful
Chichester, ' whose portrait is given, and whom the bird of Jove
is represented as carrying off to serve Ganymede in heaven.
Turning back towards the coast, the thought of Sir Robert
Chichester, son of Lord Chichester's eldest brother, is suggested.
For tradition says that he is forced to haunt the shore near
Martinhoe, weaving traces out of sand {the occupation of aristo
cratic ghosts in North Devon !), and, having fixed them to his
carriage, he must drive up the face of the crag and through
a narrow cleft at the top, known as Sir Robert's Road. ' The
natives believe that they hear his voice of rage as he labours at
his nightly task ; and at other times they fancy that they see him
scouring over ChaUacombe Downs, foUowed by a pack of hounds,
whose fiery tails gleam in the gathering darkness.'
The descent into Parracombe is almost alarming, as the village
is at the bottom of a valley with precipitous sides. Driving
down-hill, the ground falls away so sharply that just beyond the
horses' heads one sees only space. The old and interesting
church of St Helen is Early English ; it is now used only on
rare occasions, and a new church has been built close by.
St Helen's keeps its old chancel screen, but it is in a mutUated
Condition, for the rood-beam was taken away to be cut up into
bench-ends !
Over all this valley hovers the charm of an overflowing abund
ance, which particularly shows itself in the pleasant gardens of
fruit and flowers, and the overgrown hedges with their rich
decoration of berries, crimson leaves, and purple and golden flowers.
Directly north is the bit of coast that Kingsley so vividly de
scribed : ' What a sea-wall they are, those Exmoor hUls ! Sheer
upward from the sea a thousand feet rise the mountains ; and as
we slide and stagger lazily along before the dying breeze, through
the deep water which never leaves the cliff, the eye ranges, almost
dizzy, up some five hunrded feet of rock, dappled with every hue,
from the intense dark of the tide-line ; through the warm green
and brown rock-shadows, out of which the horizontal cracks of
the strata loom black, and thlrbreeding guUs show like lingering
254

COUNTISBURY FORELAND

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
snowflakes ; up to the middle cliff, where delicate grey fades into
pink, pink into red, red into glowing purple ; up to where the purple
is streaked with glossy ivy wreaths, and black-green yews ; up to
where all the choir of colours vanishes abruptly on the mid-hill,
to give place to one yellowish-grey sheet of upward down, sweeping
aloft smooth and unbroken, except by a lonely stone, or knot of
clambering sheep, and stopped by one great rounded waving line,
sharp-cut against the briUiant blue. The sheep hang like white
daisies upon the steep ; and a solitary falcon rides, a speck
in air, yet far below the crest of that tall hill. Now he sinks to
the cliff edge, and hangs quivering, supported, like a kite, by the
pressure of his breast and long curved wings, against the breeze.'
About six mUeswest of Lynmouth is the lovely valley of Heddon's
Mouth — that is, ' the Giant's mouth ; Etin, A.S., a giant.' It is a
very narrow green cleft, shut in by two precipitous cliffs rising
eight hundred feet straight out of the sea. Heddon's Mouth Water
hurries along the glen, buries itself in a bank of shingle, and flows
out again lower down the beach. Huge rocks tumbled together
make great barriers that block each side of the cove. On the
eastern side, close to the mouth of the vaUey, part of the towering
waU seems to have fallen away, showing bare rocks and soil of a
warm light brown tempered by shades of pink. The western
side is very steep, but covered with short grass, sea-pinks and
thyme, and crowned by a great mass of boulders. The face to
the sea is slightly hoUowed, suggesting that on this side also part
of the cliff has fallen. East and west, one great headland after
another is seen, misty but impressive, above a silvery grey sea.
Inland the valley changes suddenly from barren cliffs to a pro
fusion of copses and thickets, and several beautiful deeply cleft
combes, overbrimming with thick trees, open into the vaUey.
Among the wayside bushes are the pretty purple-crimson flower-
heads and thick cool leaves of that not very common wild-flower,
livelong. A road passing through a wood and by a little rushing stream
overhung by hazels, leads towards Lynton, and crosses the tiny
railway, on whose bank masses of the slender stems of great
255

Devon [ch. xii
moon-like evening primroses shine in the grey twilight with an
almost weird effect.
The more interesting way to Lynton is along the coast-road,
which is soon reached from the vaUey. Beneath the road the
cliffs fall precipitously hundreds of feet to the sea, and a few
little horned sheep and some white goats, scrambling on the
face of them, seemed to have the same hold as flies on a window-
pane. Ravens are often seen even now amongst these almost
inaccessible rocks. The road runs through a fir-wood, and as it
rises and f aUs one may catch delicious glimpses of the sea through
the ruddy stems and the great dark fans and tasselled ends of the
branches ; and the scent of pine-needles and of the sea stirring
amongst them makes the charm stiU greater. The road looks
down into Wooda Bay, which is also surrounded by woods, and
passes to the tinier but very lovely Lee Bay. A little combe
leads down to the shore, sheltered by leaves which, luminous from
the sunshine above them, shade the glen from the fierce rays, and
it is filled with a subdued, mysterious light. Stem beyond stem
is partly hidden by the fresh, vigorous green shoots springing
round them, or hanging in garlands from branch to branch, and
suggests the wonderful fairyland that Richard Doyle saw, and
enabled many people to see.
A little stream, breaking into miniature waterfaUs and reflecting
the foliage in its pools, finaUy disappears into the shingle, to emerge
close to the sea. A few yards away is a tiny dropping-weU on the
face of the cliff, almost hidden by a green veU of plants that grow
at the foot of the rocks or swing from the clefts.
Close to the bay stands Lee Abbey, a comparatively modern
house, on the site of the old house of the De Wichehalses — a
famUy who, considering the not very remote date of their history,
have been surrounded with a surprising number of fables: Mr
Blackmore contributed a share.
The Wichehalses had not a Dutch origin ; the daughter of the
house called Janifred never existed, and consequently the whole
tragic tale of her lover's faithlessness and her sad fate is entirely
imaginary. ' The Wichehalses,' says Mr Chanter, who has studied
256

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
their history with minute care, ' originally took their name from
their dweUing-place, a hamlet called Wych, near Chudleigh.
Nicholas, a younger son, but founder of the most eminent branch,
settled in Barnstaple about 1530, and made a large fortune in
the woollen trade, part of which he spent in buying property in
North Devon — amongst others, the Manors of Lynton and Countis-
bury. Here his grandson Hugh Wichehalse removed in 1627,
leaving Barnstaple with his wife and children for the double reason
that political troubles were already brewing and rumours were
afloat that the plague was drawing near/
Hugh Wichehalse seems to have avoided all strife as far as
possible, but his son John threw himself vehemently on to the
side of the Parliament, and became notorious for persecuting the
Royalist clergy in the country round, whose lot in any case was
a sorry one. John sold some of his estates and left a portion to his
younger son, so that his eldest son (another John) and his wife,
both of whom were extravagant, soon found themselves in
difficulties. John Wichehalse made himself justly unpopular by
the part he played after Sedgemoor. A Major Wade, in the Duke
of Monmouth's army, had escaped from the battle-field and,
with two other men, was hidden by a farmer at Farley. A search
was made for them, in which Wichehalse joined with one of his
servants, whom he had armed. His conduct was particularly
odious, because Wade was a great friend of some of his own
relations, who had very generously, by gifts, loans, and good
counsel, repeatedly helped him out of his difficulties. In course
of time they arrived at the right farm, and while they were coming
in by the front door, Wade and the others escaped by the back.
Babb, Wichehalse's servant, and another of the party saw the
men running, and fired, and Wade was shot through the body,
so that he was disabled and taken prisoner. Wichehalse's
servants also killed another of Monmouth's men, and his body-
was impaled on a gate near Ley.
' In the neighbourhood,' says Mr Chanter, 'the blame was put on
his servant, John Babb, who was said to have incited his master
to kiU every rebel they could find ; and local tradition has it that
257 R

Devon [ch. xii
the Babbs, who had been the favourite retainers at Ley, never
prospered after. When their master left Lynton they moved to
West Leymouth, as the modern Lynmouth was called then, and
employed themselves in the herring-curing industry, which the
cottagers said failed because Babb was engaged in it ; and years
after his granddaughter, Ursula Babb, was pointed out as the last
of the race with the curse on it, and, as she was reported to possess
the evil eye, became a great object of fear to aU around.'
John Wichehalse and his wife went to London, and wasted their
goods untd he died, when the mortgages were foreclosed, and no
property in Lynton was left to the family. The melancholy fate
of their daughter Mary may have suggested the more romantic
story of Janifred. Mary Wichehalse married, but later returned
to Lynton, where, under the care of a faithful servant, she spent her
time wandering over the cliffs looking at the lost inheritance.
Some say that she feU off the rocks, and others that she was
washed away by the tide, but both accounts agree that she was
drowned. The Valley of Rocks is wild, grand, and rather dreary, ' all
crags and pinnacles.' Southey was deeply impressed by it :
' Imagine a narrow vale between two ridges of hiUs somewhat
steep ; the southern hiU turfed ; the vale, which runs from east
to west, covered with huge stones and fragments of stone among the
fern that fiUs it ; the northern ridge completely bare, excoriated
of all turf and all soil, the very bones and skeletons of the earth ;
rock reclining upon rock, stone piled upon stone, a huge terrific
mass — a palace of the preAdamite kings, a city of the Anakim,
must have appeared so shapeless, and yet so like the ruins of what
had been shaped after the waters of the flood had subsided. I
ascended with some tod the highest point ; two large stones in
clining on each other formed a rude portal on the summit. Here
I sat down. A little level platform, about two yards long, lay
before me, and then the eye immediately feU upon the sea, far,
very far below. I never felt the sublimity of solitude before.'
Names have been given to the great rock-masses. The Castle
Rock looks far over the sea, the DevU's Cheesewring is on the
258

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
inner side of the valley, and there are many others. A narrow path
cut in the deep descent of the cliffs leads from the valley, ' where
screes and boulders, red and grey and orange, covered for the most
part with lichen or tendrUs of ground-ivy, lend splashes of vivid
colouring to the hill-side ;' and about a mile farther on is Lynton.
Perched on the cliffs nine hundred feet immediately above Lyn
mouth, Lynton looks down to the inlet, into which two ravines
open from the south. Down these ravines rush the East and West
Lyns, hidden among the woods ; and the two streams join just
before they reach the sea-shore. Countisbury Foreland stands
high to the east of the harbour and stretches far out into the sea,
and between the foreland and the mainland is another long, steep,
winding cleft.
I once saw the bay in an exquisite light very early in the morn
ing. Earth and sky and sea were aU veUed in the softest grey,
and in the sky was one little flush of pale rose pink. But for a
sea-gull crying under the cliff, the stiUness was absolute.
Lynmouth consists of a tiny quay, a little group of houses, and
the ravines beyond. It is impossible to imagine any place where
buildings and tourists could more exasperate a true lover of
earlier days. Still, they cannot have more than a superficial
effect — except at the meeting of the streams, which is quite spoilt
by the houses on either side.
The music of the Lyns has been noticed by many comers, and
about sixty years ago the Rev. H. Havergal, whilst staying here
and listening to the continuous tone of the Lyn at low-water,
composed this chant : MUSIC OF THE LYNS. -J-

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As a place for visitors to admire, Lynton was discovered
259 R 2

Devon [ch. xii
in the beginning of the nineteenth century. The French Revo
lution and Napoleonic wars obliged those who were in the habit
of going abroad for change and amusement to look for it in com
paratively unknown parts at home. In 1807 the first hotel —
not counting a smaU and inconvenient viUage hostelry — was
opened ; and even at this date there were no wheeled vehicles in
either viUage, ponies and donkeys carrying everything. Until this
time Lynton and Lynmouth had been the quietest of little fishing-
viUages, without even the doings of a resident squire or rector to
furnish a subject for a little gossip.
The ecclesiastical history of the little neighbouring parish of
Countisbury is very much mixed up with that of Lynton. Mr
Chanter prints some of the Countisbury churchwardens' accounts,
which, as he observes, are chiefly remarkable for the prominent
part that beer played in every event, from killing a fox to the
visitation of ' ye Dean Ruler.' s. d.
' Pd when one fox was killed for beer . . . . 20
Pd more for beare when one fox was kiUed . . 26
Pd for bear when two foxes were kiUed . . . . 76
Pd for ale for the fox hunters . . . . . . 20'
Other entries are for kiUing ' wild cats, greys [badgers], and
hedge hogs . . . salaries of dog-whipper . . . fox-hunter, etc., and
repairs to the base viol.'
Lynmouth and Lyn were noted for the fishery, and especially
for their herrings and oysters. The fishery was developed in
quite early days by the abbots of Ford Abbey, who claimed the
whole coast-line of Lynton and of Countisbury. CeUars and
curing-houses, caUed " red-herring houses,' were built close to the
beach, and were apt to be swept away by any violent storm, for
the little harbour has a double reason for dreading bad weather —
not only do the breakers surge over their usual limits and wash
away or damage aU that is in their way, but at the same time the
streams come down a roaring, foaming torrent, which rolls along
great boulders and hurls itself against all obstacles. In 1607 a
260

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
whole row of red-herring houses was swept away, and since that
date the records of disputes as to repairs to the harbour and peti
tions from the fishermen teU how greatly they have suffered from
this cause. The fishing has dwindled until it is now a very
trifling matter indeed.
The smaU parish of Countisbury is high on the cliffs, on the
eastern side of the river, and the road to it from Lynmouth rises
at once to a height of eleven hundred feet. A little Perpendicular
church with an embattled tower crowned by pinnacles stands at
the mercy of every wind that blows.
Farther to the east, and almost on the boundary-line of Somer
set, is Oldbarrow Camp, which differing archaeologists have
claimed to be British, Roman, and Danish. From this hiU the
faU to the sea is precipitous, and the descent into Somerset is
almost as steep ; inland, the ground also sinks away, leaving a
magnificent view and a grand sense of space. Even when the
light is fading there is a great charm, for looking down into the
hoUow, one sees a faint blue tinge lying like bloom upon the misty
twilight that fiUs the vaUey — a sharp contrast to the clear dark
ness of the evening sky. Countisbury Camp is not far from Old
barrow, and in Lynton there are two more ancient ' castles,' each
consisting of a single fosse and rampart, and other monuments.
Several stone circles, ' over forty feet in diameter,' have been
wickedly removed from the Valley of Rocks ' for the purpose of
seUing them as gate-posts ! . . .' Spindle-wheels, or pixie grinding-
stones, as the natives call them, have been found in the neigh
bourhood, as weU as arrow-heads and ' a skinning knife with a
ground edge of black flint.'
The winding valley of the West Lyn is very beautiful, but not
so wud as that of the East Lyn ; it lies deep down beneath fir-
woods, whose serried spires mount higher and higher on the steep
hiU-side. A little way from Lynton, along this lovely road, is
Barbrook MiU, and close by a cottage covered with purple clematis,
among trees loaded with rosy apples.
FoUowing up the East Lyn from Lynton, the fitness of Dean
Alford's words is realized : 261

Devon [ch. xii
LYN-CLEAVE.
This onward deepening gloom ; this hanging path
Over the Lyn that soundeth mightily,
Foaming and tumbling on, as if in wrath
That might should bar its passage to the sea ;
These sundered walls of rock, tier upon tier,
Built darkly up into the very sky,
Hung with thick wood, the native haunt of deer
And sheep that browse the dizzy slopes on high.
These ' walls of rock ' are now and again cleft by the narrow
openings of steep and wUd ravines. It is intensely solitary ; there
is scarcely any sound or movement, but perhaps a buzzard high
in the air may hang over the valley for a few moments. About two
miles from the harbour is Watersmeet, where the Farley Water
rushes into the Lyn. When the leaves are on the trees the stream
can hardly be seen from the road, for it lies below a high, steep
bank. By the water's edge in the shaded light there is a suggestion
of mystery, and the bed of the stream is so shut in that but for
the stirring of the leaves, the shifting gleams of sunlight in the
waters, and the freshness of the air, one could almost imagine one
self underground. The glossy leaves of festoons of ivy and wdd-
flowers cover the red rocks. The Farley Water falls over a succes
sion of little waterfaUs, swirling and foaming in the pools between,
and then slips over little rocky ridges and slopes covered with
duck-weed so wide that the ' stream covers it like no more than
a thin film of glancing emerald.' Below, the valley opens enough
to allow space for a tiny lawn, overhung with oak-trees ; and here
it is joined by the Lyn, which has raced along the farther side
of a steep tongue of land.
The road passes a fir-wood, bright with golden-rod and ragwort
and soft blue scabious, and by-and-by turns eastward, and reaches
the scattered vUlage of Brendon. Brendon ' church-town ' is
made up of church, school, parsonage, and a few farms, and can
scarcely be called a viUage. The church stands high on the hiU
above the river ; it is very small, and has been rebuUt compara
tively lately ; its dedication is the most interesting thing about it.
262

MALMSMEAD

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
AU who ever rejoiced in 'The Water Babies ' should remember this
Irish saint. ' Did you never hear of the blessed St Brandan, how he
preached to the wild Irish, on the wild, wUd Kerry coast ; he, and
five other hermits, till they were weary and longed to rest ? . . .
So St Brandan went out to the point of Old Dunmore, and looked
over the tide-way roaring round the Blasquets, at the end of all
the world, and away into the ocean, and sighed, " Ah that I had
wings as a dove !" And far away, before the setting sun, he saw
a blue fairy sea, and golden fairy islands, and he said, " Those are
the islands of the blest !" Then he and his friends got into a hooker
and sailed away and away to the westward, and were never heard
of more.'
A little higher up the little river (here known as Brendon
Water) is a very old bridge, now unused, and a wide modern
bridge, which crosses the two branches of the divided stream just
below a little green island. Bushes crowd and overlap each other
on the banks, and it is very likely a grey water-wagtail will dart
from among the leaves and flit jauntily upstream.
The road aU this way foUows the water — for some distance the
boundary between the counties — and here it is sunk between the
barriers of the County WaU separating Devonshire and Somerset
shire. A great bare cliff, covered only with short grass, and scanty
tufts of heather and furze growing thinly upon it, towers above the
road ; the other side of the valley is lower, gentler, and wooded.
Malmsmead Bridge crosses over the Badgeworthy Water, as the
stream — which seems to change its name nearly every half-mUe in
the most perplexing manner — is here called, a little higher than
the point at which it is joined by its tributary, Oare Water. Above
the bridge the road becomes a rough track that leads up into
the very wUd and beautiful valley of Badgeworthy Water, well
known by name to all lovers of ' Lorna Doone.' Some of the natives
are apt to mislead strangers by wrongly calling this glen the Doone
VaUey. Further upstream the vaUey becomes narrower, and the
sides steeper, winding in long beautiful curves. The shallow
stream is brown, but very bright and clear and pebbled ; boggy
patches lie here and there by the side, and in one patch the sweet-
263

Devon [ch. xii
ferns grow so large and thick that their characteristic ' sharp
sweet ' scent is strong enough to betray them before one catches
sight of the finely-cut fronds. On the east side of Badgeworthy
Water is Deer Park, where many deer lie and the fir-woods come
down to the water's edge. On the opposite side is Badgeworthy
Wood, chiefly of oaks, most of which are not very large, but many
of them are gnarled. The number of oak-apples that I have seen
in this wood was amazing ; on one tree they seemed like cherries
on a cherry-tree. Nearly all were scarlet, and they glowed in the
sunshine. ' Lorna Doone ' has brought so many visitors to the scene that it
is no news to say that the account of the water-slide is fictitious.
This word is deliberately chosen instead of ' exaggerated,' which is
often applied to Mr Blackmore's picture of the faU ; for he was
not describing scenery — he was setting a scene in his novel, and
there was no reason why he should be bound to inches, or even
feet ! And this argument applies to what he has said of the Doone
VaUey. At the same time, in his ' Exploration of Exmoor/ Mr
Page observes that a true description of the valley of Badge-
worthy Water would very nearly represent Mr. -Blackmore's
Glen Doone ; and it still seems absolutely apart from the ordinary
race and fret of life.
Two long, smooth slopes of rock one below another form the chief
part of the water-slide, and the thin stream slipping over them
makes one wish to see howthe faU would lookwhen the water comes
down, a roaring torrent, swoUen by heavy rains and melting snow.
On one side of the water-slide the ground rises very sharply, but
up the other side a tiny path twists through the wood, and opens
quite suddenly on a very stiU vaUey with steep sides and a broad,
open space between. A mountain-ash bearing vividly scarlet
bunches of berries hangs over the stream close to the opening ;
but beyond, only a few stunted thorns grow sparsely amongst an
abundance of heather, furze, bracken, and whortleberries. Lorna's
bower seems to have been seen to some extent through the
author's imagination. In a shallow combe at a little distance
are the ruins of what appear to have been the walls of enclosures,
264

LORNA S BOWER

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
but they are very indefinite. These are all that remain of the
Doones' houses, but recent research denies that the Doones ever
existed !
From the top of the hiU above the water-slide there is a very
beautiful view of the winding glens opening out of each other,
and at this point one is able to follow their curves for a long way
before the hiUs shut them out of sight. With the sun shining
through the haziest clouds, and the radiant glow of a diffused
light calling out delicate tints on the distant slopes, the whole
scene seems most fitly described by the old words of praise, ' a
fair country.'
Retracing the path to Malmsmead, one is irresistibly tempted
to go a few steps into Somerset to look at the tiny church of Oare,
where, Mr Blackmore says, Lorna Doone and Jan Ridd were
married. The church is very narrow, and it stands among trees
on the slope above the stream. On the south side of the nave,
close to where the old east waU stood (the chancel is new), is an
early piscina of a curious shape ; it is supported by a large carved
human head, with a hand to each cheek, and there is a thick, solid
cap on the top.
ChaUacombe is a smaU village on the western border of Exmoor,
seven or eight nines south of Lynton, and the church looks far
over the moors. Westcote derives the name from ' Choldicombe,
or rather Coldecombe, from its cold situation, next neighbour to
Exmoor / and he speaks of ' divers hillocks of earth and stones . . .
termed burrows and distinguished by sundry names,' in the parish,
and hints at their uncanny nature by teUing how ' fiery dragons
have been seen flying and lighting on them.' Such tales he dis
misses scornfuUy, but he tells of ' a strange accident ' that hap
pened ' within these seven years, verified by oath of the party, who
otherwise might have had credit for his honesty.' A labouring
man, having saved enough money to buy a few acres of waste
land, began to buUd himself a house on it, and from a burrow
near by he fetched stones and earth. He had cut deep into the
hiUock, when ' he found therein a little place, as it had been a
large oven, fairly, strongly, and closely walled up ; which com-
265

Devon [ch. xii
forted him much, hoping that some great good would befaU him,
and that there might be some treasure there hidden to maintain
him more liberaUy and with less labour in his old years : where
with encouraged he plies his work earnestly untU he had broken
a hole through this waU, in the cavity whereof he espied an earthen
pot, which caused him to multiply his strokes untU he might make
the orifice thereof large enough to take out the pot, which his
earnest desire made not long a-doing ; but as he thrust in his arm
and fastened his hand thereon he suddenly heard, or seemed to
hear, the noise of the trampling or treading of horses coming, as
he thought, towards him, which caused him to forbear and arise
from the place, fearing the comers would take his purchase from
him (for he assured himself it was treasure) ; but looking about
every way to see what company this was, he saw neither horse nor
man in view. To the pot again he goes, and had the like success
a second time ; and yet, looking aU about, could ken nothing.
At the third time he brings it away, and therein only a few ashes
and bones, as if they had been of children, or the like. But the
man, whether by the fear, which yet he denied, or other cause, which
I cannot comprehend, in very short time after lost senses both of
sight and hearing, and in less than three months consuming died.'
This tale is foUowed by another, of a ' mystical sciencer,' and
Westcote finishes with the comment that the stories are ' not unfit
tales for winter nights when you roast crabs by the fire, whereof
this parish yields none, the climate is too cold, only the fine dainty
fruits of wortles and blackberries.'
A little to the north of ChaUacombe is the great hiU of Chap
man Burrows, where stands a ' taU, lean slab of slate, the Long-
stone.' It is nine feet high, and in the broadest part about two
feet eight inches wide. The history of the Longstone is unknown,
but the suggestion has been made that it may be an ancient relic, a
menhir, and this view is supported by the fact that about a dozen
large tumuli lie on the slopes around. One of these is between ten
arid twelve feet high and three hundred feet round at the base.
Burrows are found all over Exmoor. ' The eye of reflection sees
stand uninterrupted a number of simple sepulchres of departed
266

WATERSLIDE. DOONE VALLEY

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
souls. ... A morsel of earth nowdamps in silence the eclat of noisy
warriors, and the green turf serves as a sufficient shroud for kings.'
By far the greatest part of Exmoor lies in Somerset, so that
here one must not wander far amongst great round hills, wide
distances, and deep combes. One has heard of strangers who
have been disappointed by the first sight of Exmoor, for its
heights are not very evident. There are no peaks, no sharply-cut
isolated hiUs, nor any with a very striking outline, except Dun-
kery ; but the whole moor is a tableland, across which the coach
road runs at a level from twelve hundred to fourteen hundred
feet above the sea : ' A bare roUing waste of moorland stretching
away into the eastern distance, like the ocean " heaving in long
swells," ' and large spaces of bracken, of bogs fringed with cotton-
grass and rough grass and whortleberries, among which rise little
glittering streams that splash their way down into the vaUeys
beneath. The sides of the glens leading from the borders of the moor are
crowded with endless masses of mountain-ashes, and whether the
leaves make a background to the flat creamy clusters of sweet,
heavily scented flowers or to great bunches of scarlet fruit, the
long ranks give a very rich effect.
Mr R. J. King has observed that Exmoor, ' stiU lonely and un
cultivated,' was probably at one time during the English con
quests a boundary or ' mark,' ' always regarded as sacred and
placed under the protection of some deity or hero.' Amongst
some very interesting remarks, he says that the intermingling
in Devonshire of the Celtic and Teutonic races ' may be traced
in folk-lore, not less distinctly than in dialect or in features. . . .
Sigmund the Waelsing, who among our English ancestors repre
sented Sigfried, the great hero of the Niebelungen-lied, has
apparently left his name to the deep pool of Simonsbath . . .
again, side by side with traditions of King Arthur, to the parish
of Simonsward in CornwaU.'
It is difficult to imagine any moorlands destitute of supersti
tion, and plenty linger on Exmoor. Mr Page (writing in 1890)
gave some instances that have occurred comparatively lately,
267

Devon [ch. xii
He speaks of ' overlooking ' and of witchcraft, and says that ' not
many years since the vUlagers of Withycombe, by no means
an Ultima Thule among hamlets, firmly believed that certain
ancient dames had the power of turning themselves into white
rabbits.' ' An astonishing instance of belief in witchcraft ' within his own
experience was one where an old woman — ' as harmless a creature
as can be found in the country ' — was believed by her neighbours
to have not only the evU eye, but also ' the power of turning her
self into a black dog, in which form she was met a short time
since, during the twUight hour, in a neighbouring lane. For these
aU-sufficient reasons the poor old soul was, for a whUe, unable to
obtain the services of a nurse during an illness from which she is
only now recovering.'
Another story shows the remarkable powers of a wise woman.
Mr Page explains that he cannot give the real name of the couple,
but caUs them GUes. GUes deserted his wife. ' For a whUe Mrs
GUes bore his absence with a fortitude born, perhaps, of no very
great love for her partner. Then she suddenly took it into her
head to have him home. She did not telegraph, she did not even
write ; but one day the errant husband was seen by the astonished
viUagers hurrying towards his deserted home. And his footsteps
were marked with blood ! The witch-wife had compeUed his return
in such haste that not only the soles of his boots, but those of his
feet, were worn out.'
Mr Page mentions that ' the old mediaeval custom of touching
a corpse stiU prevails. At an inquest lately held at or near South
Molton, each of the coroner's jury, as he filed past the body, laid
his fingers on the forehead. This act, it was believed, would free
him from dreams of the deceased.
Omens and portents such as mysterious knockings, a particular
sound of church-beUs, or a bird flying into a room, are very grave
warnings, and a story of this character comes from near Taunton.
' A farmer riding home from Taunton Market noticed a white
rook among the sable flock settling over a field. When he reached
home there were symptoms of uneasiness among his cattle, and
268

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
that night the dogs barked so vociferously that he had to get up
and quiet them. In the morning he was dead.'
Writing of other traditions, ' one of the most beautiful of
Easter customs stiU survives. Young men have not yet ceased on
the Resurrection morning to climb the nearest hUl-top to see the
sun flash over the dark ridge of Quantock, or the more distant line
of Mendip/ To see the newly-arisen sun on Easter morning was
an augury of good luck. ' Early in the century Dunkery, probably
because it is the highest land in Somerset, was favoured above all
surrounding hUls, and its sides, says Miss King, ' were covered
with young men, who seemed to come from every quarter of the
compass, and to be pressing up towards the Beacon.'
Exmoor stag-hunting is far-famed, for it is the only corner of
England where wUd red deer are stiU to be found. The fashion
of coming here to hunt from a distant part of the country is
comparatively modern, but Hugh PoUard, Ranger of the Forest,
kept a pack of stag-hounds at Simonsbath more than three
hundred years ago, and the Rangers who succeeded him continued
to keep the hounds.
Even before the Conquest, the moor had been a royal hunting-
ground. Deeds show that in the reign of Edward the Confessor
there were at least three Royal Foresters ; and WiUiam I, says
Mr Rawle, 'probably reserved to himself the forest rights, for
the Conqueror, according to the Saxon Chronicle, " loved the tall
deer as though he had been their father," and would scarcely be
likely to forgo any privileges concerning the vert and venison.'
Various tenures show that later Kings kept Exmoor as a preserve.
Walter Aungevin held land in Auri and Hole (near South Molton)
under Edward III, ' by sergeantry that whensoever our lord the
King should hunt in the forest of Exmoor, he should find for him
two barbed arrows.' And Morinus de la Barr, farther to the west,
near Braunton, held his land on the same tenure with the addition
of finding ' one salmon.'
Nearly thirty years later in the same reign, a very curious
tenure is registered. ' Walter Barun held certain lands and tene
ments in the town of Holicote, of the King in capite, by the service
269

Devon [ch. xii
of hanging upon a certain forked piece of wood the red deer that
die of the murrain in the King's forest of Exmoor ; and also of
lodging and entertaining the poor strangers, weakened by in
firmities, that came to him, at his own proper costs, for the souls
of the ancestors of our Lord King Edward.'
The Forest of Exmoor was part of the jointure of several Queens
of England. Henry VIII settled it on Catherine of Aragon, and
it was afterwards held by Jane Seymour. James I gave it to
his Queen, but Charles I had other views, and announced his
intention of drawing ' the unnecessary Forests and Waste Lands '
[Dartmoor and Exmoor] ' to improvement.' Needless to say, the
scheme died in its early stages, and when Charles II came to the
throne, he granted a lease of the forest to the Marquis of Ormonde.
Besides the wUd-deer on Exmoor, there are, as everyone knows,
creatures almost as wUd — herds of Exmoor pomes. Very few now
are pure ' Exmoors,' except those belonging to Sir Thomas Acland.
Among these ponies the true breed has been carefully preserved,
and there has been no crossing. It seems a little odd to think of
Exmoor ponies being mentioned in Domesday, but Mr Chanter
quotes an entry referring to the stock in the parishes of Lynton
and Countisbury, ' 72 brood mares, probably the Exmoor ponies
running half wdd on the moor ; in Brendon, 104 wild mares {equas
indomitas) are mentioned.'
' The average height is 12J hands, and bays and buffy bays
with mealy noses prevail ; in fact, are in the majority of three to
one.' The older ponies live out aU the year round, but stacks of
hay and straw are built by the herdsmen against the time when
the snow lies deep. ' StiU, like honest, hard-working labourers,
the ponies never assemble at the wicket tiU they have ex
hausted every means of self-support by scratching with their
fore-feet in the snow for the remnants of the summer tufts, and
drag wearUy behind them an ever-lengthening chain of snowbaUs.'
The moor makes an excellent sheep-walk, but attempts to
cultivate it have not prospered. As far as agriculturists are con
cerned, ' Exmoor is best left alone — the " peat and heather in hill
and dale." ' 270

ch. xii] Lundy, Lynmouth, etc.
There is an old ballad called ' The Farmer's Son of Devon
shire,' in which the views of one character, ' Brother Jack/ show
a distinct resemblance to those of the great John Fry in ' Lorna
Doone.' Here are a few verses. The sub-title is a long one, begin
ning : ' Being the Valiant Coronel's Return from Flanders.' To
the tune of ' Mary, live long.'
' Will. Well met, Brother Jack, I've been in Flanders
With valiant Commanders, and am return'd back to England again ;
Where a while I shall stay, and shall then march away ;
I'm an Officer now.
Go with me, dear Brother, go with me, dear Brother,
And lay by the Plow.
I tell thee, old boy, the son of a farmer.
In glittering armour, may kill and destroy
A many proud French ;
As a Squire or Knight, having courage to fight,
Then valiantly go,
In arms like a Soldier, in arms like a Soldier,
To face the proud foe.
' Jack. But, dear Brother Will, you are a vine vellow,
And talk mighty mellow, but what if they kill
Thy poor brother Jack
By the pounce of a gun ? If they shou'd I'm undone.
You know that I never, you know that I never,
Had courage to fight.
[Will replies at some length.]
' Jack. The enemies' men with horror will fill me,
Perhaps they may kill me, and where am I then ?
This runs in my mind ;
Should I chance to be lame, will the trophies of Fame
Keep me from sad groans ?
A fig for that honour, a fig for that honour,
Which brings broken bones.
' Such honour I scorn, I'd rather be mowing,
Nay, plowing or sowing, or threshing of corn,
At home in a barn ;
Then to leave Joan my wife, and to loose my sweet life,
In peace let me dwell ;
I am not for fighting, I am not for fighting,
So, Brother, Farewell.' 271

CHAPTER XIII
Castles and Country-Houses
' As Marly's bright green leaves give place
To tints of rich and mellowed glow ;
As close the shortening autumn days.
Whilst summer lingers, loth to go ;
Quick rises each familiar scene.
And fancy homewards turns her gaze ;
Such are the hues in Oakford seem,
And such a light o'er Iddesleigh plays —
Methinks the oaks of dear old Pynes
With richer brown delight the eye ;
Nor would I take these reddening vines
For our wild cherry's crimson dye.'
Earl of Iddesleigh.
POWDERHAM Castle is a fine bmlding in a lovely setting.
On the east the park leads down towards the marshy edge
of the broad rippling estuary, on either side there spread
trees and bracken, with the deer feeding among them,
and hills sloping graduaUy upwards make a very pretty back
ground. The Castle is difficult to describe, for one century after another
has added a wing or pulled down a corner, and the result is an
irregular building of very varying architecture. Even the exact
colour is not easy to teU, but different shades of grey prevad. The
north tower, the earliest part, is buUt of smaU and uneven stones.
There is a tradition that Powderham was begun by William of Eu
soon after the Conquest, and another story is that it existed before
that date, and was bmlt by a Saxon to prevent the Danes sailing
up the river to Exeter ; but the oldest portion now standing is
probably due to Sir PhUip Courtenay, who was born about
a.d. 1337.
The Castle was strongly fortified, and in the Civil War with
stood an attack planned by General Fairfax himself. The General,
272

 '. t*SL

POW'DERHAM CASTLE

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
says Sprigg, ordered ' a design in hand against Pouldrum-house,
by water and land, which, being on Friday, December 12, was
immediately put in execution. . . . The design against Pouldrum-
house was this, and thus carried : Lord's Day, December 14, nine
of the clock at night, Captain Deane (the comptroller of the
ordnance) was commanded over Ex with 200 foot and dragoons,
to possess Pouldrum-castle, but the enemy had some few hours
before got 150 into it, unto those that were there before, which
our men not discovering before they had landed, would not return
without attempting something. The church at Pouldrum being
not far distant from the castle, they resolved to possess and make
the best of it, and accordingly did so, and the next morning they
got provisions from NutweU-house unto them into the church,
and began to fortify the same. The enemy at Excester, much
startled hereat, fearing the castle would be lost, as weU as the
river blocked up by the fortifying of this church, sent therefore,
on Monday, the 15th, a party of 500 foot, who joining with 200
from the castle assaulted our men about seven at night, threw in
many hand granadoes amongst them, and so continued storming till
ten, but were beaten off with much loss, leaving their dead on the
place, and carrying with them many wounded, as appeared by
the snow, that was much stained with blood as they retreated.'
The Parliamentary soldiers remained in the church, and Sprigg,
not unnaturaUy, vaunts their stoicism a little. ' They were re
solved to continue in their duty ; and notwithstanding the
extremity of the cold, by reason of the great frost and snow, and
want of all means to resist or qualify the same in the church, having
no firing there, they would not quit the same tUl they received
orders to do so ; which hard service (hard in every respect) . . . they
were not immediately discharged of.' However, the next day,
' the general considering further the bitter coldness of the weather,
and the hardness of the duty they would necessarUy be put unto,
if they should make good the church, sent orders to them to draw
off, wh that they might do with the more safety, two regiments
were appointed to draw down and alarm the enemy on that side
Excester, whUe they made good their retreat over the river.'
273 S

Devon [ch. xiii
Powderham held out gaUantly for more than another month,
notwithstanding that ' Colonel Hammond was set down with
some force ' about it ; and Fairfax, on his return from his victory
at Dartmouth, ' marched to Chidley, endeavouring first to take a
view of Pouldrum,' meditating a freshattack. But the garrisonhad
reached their limit of endurance, and the same night (January 24,
1646) the Castle was surrendered.
About the year 1700 great alterations were made, and now
battlemented towers and French windows, iron balconies, and
loopholes in massive walls many feet thick, in strange juxta
position, show how it has been adapted to the taste and needs of
its successive owners. On the west is a large courtyard, the Castle
itself forming one side of the quadrangle ; on the east, a broad
terrace, set with little box-edged beds, high vases, and clipped
cypresses, and little turrets at the angles. Smaller terraces run
north and south of the Castle, and along the south terrace is a
magnificent thick, high, and very dense yew-hedge. The centre of
the east front is alow tower, and at each end are projecting wings.
In the south wing is the present chapel, once a granary. Perhaps
its most uncommon feature is the number of old bench-ends,
most of whose panels are carved with heads, some of which were
shaped piously, though others are grotesque. Through the chapel
is the priest's room, a large and delightful one, lighted on three
sides ; with Pope Gregory in stained glass, and the Courtenay arms
beneath, in one window.
The walls of the ' staircase haU ' are a pale blue-green, and
show a bold and very elaborate decoration, a belated example of
the manner of Grinling Gibbons. Long white garlands, holding
together flowers, fruit, spears, a quiver of arrows, birds, beasts,
trumpets, and a mass of intricate designs, hang down the waUs in
high relief. The fine banqueting-haU has a carved and vaulted
roof, and high at one end is a gallery. Deep paneUing runs aU
round the haU, and at the head of the panels are little shields, the
coats of arms of thq English and French branches of the Cour
tenays, and of the ladies whom the successive heads of the family
have married — with, in every case, the shields of her parents and
274

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
grandparents as weU. The heraldic chimneypiece is high and very
elaborate. In the long drawing-rooms hang two examples of the
few life-size groups that Richard Cosway painted. Both pictures
are of three daughters of the house ; the dresses are white, and the
whole colouring extremely delicate. In the most delightful of the
two the ladies are standing, and their figures and attitudes are ex
tremely graceful. In the second picture all three are sitting on the
ground, and though very pretty, this group has not the particular
charm of the first. The large ' music-room ' has been arranged to
suit its name, for on the walls are tiny frescoes representing the
triumph of Music, musical instruments are sculptured in marble
on the chimneypiece, and even pattern the Aubusson carpet. In
the paneUed entrance-hall is some fine carving, and here hang the
rather melancholy portraits of the unhappy Marquis of Exeter
and his unfortunate son, and a large picture of a Lord and Lady
Devon, most of their fourteen daughters, and their only son.
Powderham was brought to the Courtenays as the dowry of
Margaret Bohun, daughter of the Earl of Hereford, and she left
it to her fifth son, Sir Philip Courtenay, the ancestor of the present
owner. It would be impossible here to attempt the most imperfect
outline of the changing fortunes of this ' imperial family,' even
from the date at which they settled in England, and without any
reference to the days when Courtenays were Kings of Jerusalem
and Emperors of Constantinople. Members of this famUy have
played important parts in different crises of the nation's history,
and very many have been eminent in peace and war. From the
chronicle of their lives and losses, battles and honours, I am able
to quote here only a few scattered instances.
Sir Hugh Courtenay, born 1327, was often ' employed by the
King in his wars in France and Scotland,' and fought at the battle of
Crecy. The next year, among other ' brave Martialists,' he diverted
himself by mimic battles at Eltham, and it is recorded that at
this tournament the King gave him ' an Hood of White Cloth,
embroidered with men in the posture of Dancers, buttoned with
large Pearls.' Authorities are divided as to whether he or his
275 s 2

Devon [ch. xiii
father, the Earl of Devonshire, was one of the founders of the
Order of the Garter. Sir Hugh's son of the same name married
MatUda, daughter of the Earl of Kent, and his wife — usuaUy
known as the Fair Maid of Kent, Lady Matilda Courtenay —
inherited her mother's beauty — ' " the fairest lady in England,"
saith Froissard.' Hugh Courtenay died young, and his widow fell
in love with ' Lord Valeran, Earl of St Paul, who, having been
taken Prisoner in the Marches of Calais, was kept in the English
Court, and by his winning Behaviour did much engage the Ladies
Affections to him. The Princess her Mother [who as a widow
had married the Black Prince] was at first much against the
match, but at last she yielded, and the king her brother gave his
consent, and for her dowry bestowed upon the Earl the Manor of
Byfleet. Walsington says that this marriage was celebrated on
the Octaves of Easter, at Windsor, with great Pomp, and the Earl
got from France a great many Musicians and Dancers for that
purpose.' Sir Hugh was the eldest of seventeen chUdren, and several. of
the sons were distinguished men. On the eve of the Battle of
Navaretto, Sir Hugh, Sir Phdip, and Sir Peter were knighted
together by the Black Prince. Their eagerness to fight on land or
sea led, on one occasion, to an unfortunate result. In 1378 the
Duke of Lancaster was exasperating the fleet under his orders by
his ' slow Proceedings and unnecessary delays,' and a part of it
set out without him. ' Sir Phdip and Sir Peter Courtenay, two
brothers who had the Command of some ships, espying some vessels
belonging to the enemy, inconsiderately assaulted them, being
the whole Spanish Fleet, and though they bravely fought, and
defended themselves, yet in the end were beaten, most of them
who were good gentlemen of Devonshire and Somersetshire being
slain. Sir Peter with some others were taken Prisoners, and Sir
Philip was sore wounded but escaped the hands of his enemies.'
Later on Sir Philip was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and must
have wrestled with enough turbulence and riot to satisfy any
one. His manner of governing seems, at any rate, to have pleased
the King, who, whilst Sir Philip was stiU in office, showered
276

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
honours upon him — ' the Park of Bovey Tracey . . . Dartmoor
Forest, and the Manour of Bradnich.' He was made ' Steward of
aU the King's Manours and Stannaries in the county of Cornwall/
and later on was appointed to other posts of importance. Un-
luckfly, Sir Philip's chief principle of action seems to have been
that might is right, and complaints being made to the King that he
had expeUed two of his neighbours from parts of their lands, and
imprisoned the Abbot of Newenham, and two of his monks, ' with
great force,' the intrepid knight was sent to the Tower. However,
after a little while, ' at the request of the Lords and Commons, he
was restored to his place and good name.'
William Courtenay, a brother to Sir Philip, was Bishop of
London at the critical time when Wyclif's doctrines were first
stirring men's minds, and after the murder of Archbishop Sudbury,
Bishop Courtenay was translated to Canterbury, and began to
take very severe measures against the heretics. A strange event
marked a meeting, of many dignitaries of Church and State,
who had gathered to censure Wyclif's teaching and find means for
its extermination. ' When they were just going to begin their
business a wonderful and terrible earthquake happened through
out aU England, whereupon differs of the suffragans being
affrighted thought fit to leave off their business, but the Arch
bishop encouraged them to go on, and they proceeded to examine
Articles of Wickliff, and to give their censure upon them.'
The Archbishop persuaded Parliament to pass an Act against
certain preachers of heresy, that they might be arrested and kept
' in strong Prison untU they shaU justify themselves according to
the Law of the Holy Church,' and brought the ChanceUor of
Oxford literaUy to his knees, begging the Archbishop's pardon for
having shown favour to the LoUards against special commands.
His strong wUl was exercised in all matters, great and small,
and offenders were punished in the most conspicuous fashion.
The Archbishop took a high hand in dealing with affairs of the
Diocese of Exeter, and the Bishop of Exeter greatly resented
it, and appealed against him to Rome. The Archbishop then
' cited ' Bishop Brantyngham ' to answer certain Articles to be
277

Devon [ch. xiii
proposed to him in the Visitation,' but some of the ' Bishop's
Officers ' met the bearer at Topsham, and ' did beat him, and
forced him to eat the Citation, Parchment, Wax, and aU.' The
contempt of his commands, and the maltreatment of his messenger,
naturally roused the Archbishop to wrath, and he inflicted
this very heavy penance : ' That in the Church of Canterbury,
St Paul's in London, and the Cathedral Church of Exeter, they
should upon three Holy Days named, being in their shirts only, in
a Procession going before the Cross, carry Wax Tapers burning
in their hands, and then that they should give to the Priest a
Salary to say Mass every day at the Tomb of the Earl of Devon
shire ; and lastly, every one of them was enjoined to pay a sum of
money, for repairing the WaUs of the City of Exeter.' In addition
to the public disgrace, the trouble and cost of this penance must
have been immense.
The sixth of these brothers, Sir Peter Courtenay, was, says
FuUer, ' a true son of Mars and actuated with such heroic fire,
that he whoUy addicted himself unto feats of arms.' It has been
already mentioned that he fought in the Spanish wars, and in
mUder moments he distinguished himself at ' justs and tourna
ments now justled out of fashion by your carpet knights.' As a
prisoner of war in France, his captivity was lightened by the
attentions he received, even from the King of France himself,
and he was on such good terms with his captors that after his
release he gained leave of Richard II ' to send into France, by
Northampton Herald, and by Anlet Pursuivant, as a return for
the civilities he received in France . . . eight cloths of Scarlet,
Black and Russet, to give to certain Noblemen of that Realm ;
as also two Horses, six saddles, six little bows, one sheaf of large
Arrows and another sheaf of Cross-bow Arrows ; likewise a Grey
hound, and other dogs for the King of France's Keeper.'
The Wars of the Roses were especiaUy fatal to the House of
Courtenay, no less than three Earls of Devon losing their lives for
King Henry, and in consequence the elder branch of the family
became extinct.
A pleasanter time to look back upon was the beginning of the
278

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
reign of Henry VIII. Henry VII had married Elizabeth, the elder,
and the Earl of Devonshire Katherine, the younger, of Edward IV's
daughters, and after Henry VI IPs accession to the throne the
Earl of Devonshire seems to have been much at Court. In the
early months of 1509 preparations were made for ' solemn Justs
in Honour of the Queen. The King was one, and with him three
Aids : the King was called Cceur Loial, and the Earl of Devon
shire, Bon Voloire, Sir Thomas Nevet, Bon Espoire, Sir Edward
Nevil, Valiant Desire, and their Names were put in a fine Table,
and the Table was hung on a Tree curiously wrought, and they
were caUed Les Chevaliers de le Forest Salvigne, and they were to
run at the TUt with ah comers.'
The irony of the King's choice of a nom de guerre seems to have
escaped the historian.
' On the ist day of May 1510, 2 Henry VIII, the King, accom
panied with a great many valiant Nobles, rode upon managed
Horses to the Wood to fetch May, where he and three others, viz.,
Sir Edward Howard, Charles Brandon, and Edward Nevil, which
were ChaUengers, shifted themselves, and did put on coats of
green Sattin, guarded with crimson Velvet ; and on the other side
were the Earls of Essex and Devonshire, the Marquis of Dorset,
and the Lord Howard, and they were ah in crimson Sattin, guarded
with a pounced Guard of green Velvet. On the third Day the Queen
made a great Banquet for the King and those who had justed, and
after the Banquet she gave the Chief Prize to the King, the second
to the Earl of Essex, the third to the Earl of Devonshire, and the
Fourth to the Marquess of Dorset. Then the Heralds cried aloud,
My Lords, For your noble Feats in Arms, God send you the Love
of the Ladies whom you most admire.'
The next year the Earl of Devonshire died, and was succeeded
by his son, Henry, who for a time was high in the favour of his
royal cousin. He seems also to have taken part in many ' Justs
and Tourneys.' One summer ' the Queen desired the King to bring
to his Manour of Havering in Essex, to the Bower there, the
Gentlemen of France that were Hostages, for whose Welcome she
provided aU things in a liberal manner.' The entertainment
279

Devon [ch. xiii
seems to have taken the shape of a small masked baU, and ' the
King gave many gifts where he liked.' At the Field of the
Cloth of Gold, the Earl of Devonshire had the honour of tilting
with the French King, ' and they ran so hard together that
both their Spears broke, and so they maintained their Courses
nobly.' The next year ' the King kept his Christmas at Greenwich in
great splendour ' ; and there was another tournament and many
chaUenges. ' Noble and rich was their Apparel, but in Feats of
Arms the King exceUed tho rest.'
In the year 1525 the Earl was created Marquis of Exeter, and
seven years later, before starting for France, the King formally
named his cousin Heir Apparent to the Crown. After this
Fortune turned her back on him, and though, at the King's
bidding, he dealt with the northern rebels, taking with him
' a joUy company of Western Men, weU and completely appointed,'
it was thought that his power, shown by ' so sudden raising divers
thousands,' awoke the King's jealousy. The influence of the
Marquis ' over the. west was second only to the hold which the
Duke of Norfolk had upon the eastern counties '; and therefore,
when two years later it was reported he had said, ' Knaves rule
about the King. I trust to give them a buffet one day,' Cromwell
was glad to seize the opportunity of simultaneously striking at
feudalism in the West, and of dealing a blow at the inflexible
Cardinal Pole, the Courtenays' kinsman. The Marquis was at
once arrested on the charge of being an accomplice of the Cardinal,
and was beheaded on Tower HiU.
Edward, his son, who was only twelve years old at the time
of his father's death, was committed to the Tower, ' lest he should
raise Commotions by revenging his Father's Quarrel,' and here
he remained for twenty-seven years. There is a pretty account
of Queen Mary coming to the Tower, soon after her accession,
where ' Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, Dr Gardiner, late Bishop of
Winchester, Edward Courtenay, son and heir to Henry Marquis
of Exeter, the Dutchess of Somerset, Prisoners in the Tower, kneel
ing on the Hill, within the same Tower, saluted her Grace, and
280

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
she came to them and kissed them, and said, " These be my
prisoners," and caused them presently to be set at liberty.'
The very next day the Queen restored to her cousin the title
of Earl of Devon (forfeited by his father's attainder), and soon
after aU his lands that remained in her possession, and also showed
him other favours. In fact, ' it was reported that she carried
some good affections towards the Earl, from the first time that
she saw him. . . . Concerning which, there goes a story that the
young Earl petitioning the Queen for leave to travel, she advised
him to marry and stay at home, assuring him that no lady in the
land, how high soever, would refuse to accept of him for a husband,
by which words, she pointed out herself to him, as plainly as
might either stand with the Modesty or Majesty of a Maiden
Queen.' But, says FuUer with extreme candour, ' either because
his long durance had some influence on his brain, or that naturally
his face was better than his head, or out of some private fancy
and affection (which is most probable) to the Lady Elizabeth,'
who, another writer declares, ' of that moderate Share of Beauty
that was between them, had much the better of her,' the Earl
evaded the honour hinted to him, and begged leave to pay his
addresses to the younger Princess. The Queen's feelings and vanity
were deeply wounded, and, on a suspicion that the Princess as
weU as himself were concerned in Wyatt 's rebeUion, they were
both sent to the Tower.
Cleaveland teUs a charming story of the Princess and of a child
who lived in the Tower. ' During the time that the Lady Elizabeth
and the Lord Courtenay were in Prison, a little boy, the son of a
Man that lived in the Tower, did use to resort unto their chambers
and did often bring her Grace Flowers, as he did to the other
Prisoners that were there, whereupon some suspicious heads,
thinking to make something of it, on a Time called the ChUd unto
them, promising him Figs and Apples, and asked him when he
had been with the Earl of Devonshire, knowing that he did use
to go to him : The Boy answered, That he would go by and by thither.
Then they demanded of him, when he was with the Lady Eliza
beth ? He answered Every Day. Then they asked him, what
281

Devon [ch. xiii
the Lord Devonshire sent by him to her Grace ? The Child said,
I will go and know what he will give to carry to her : such was the
discretion of the chfld (says Mr Fox), being but four Years of Age.
This same is a crafty Boy, said the Lord Chamberlain ; How say
you, my lord Shandois ? I pray you, my Lord, says the Boy,
give me the Figs you promised me; No, quoth the Lord, thou
shall be whipt, if thou come any more to the Lady Elizabeth or
the Lord Courtenay. The Boy answered, I will bring my Lady and
Mistress more flowers, whereupon the Chfld's Father was com
manded to permit the Boy to come no more up into the chambers.
The next Day, as her Grace was walking in the Garden, the Child
peeping in at a Hole in the Door, cried unto her, Mistress, I can
bring no more flowers : Whereat she smfled, but said nothing, under
standing thereby what they had done. Soon after the Chamberlain
rebuked highly his Father, commanding him to put him out of
the House ; Alas ! poor Infant, said the Father : It is a crafty
Knave, quoth the Lord Chamberlain, let me see him here no
more.' Soon after Queen Mary's marriage, her husband tried hard to
persuade her to release her sister and the Earl, ' and nothing, says
Heylin, did King Philip more Honour amongst the English.'
It is to be remembered to his good, that he interceded very
earnestly, and in the end successfully, for another Devonshire
conspirator in Wyatt's rising, Sir Peter Carew.
The Earl, fearing that he might, ' upon the first disorder, be
committed to the Tower, to which his Stars seemed to condemn
him,' prudently resolved to go abroad ; but he must have been
born under a very unlucky planet, for the next year he was seized
with illness, and died at Padua. With him the title became extinct
for about two hundred and fifty years ; then Lord Courtenay, a
descendant of the Powderham branch of Courtenays, established
his claim to the earldom. As the attainder of the Marquis of
Exeter was never reversed, that title was never revived in this
famUy. Among the ' Roxburghe BaUads ' is one relating to the Cour
tenays, called ' The Stout Cripple of CornwaU.' No notes throw
282

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
any light upon the possible origin of the story or offer any opinion
as to the probabUity of the ballad being an account of a true
incident, or ' founded on fact,' or whoUy imaginary.
' Of a stout Cripple that kept the highway.
And beg'd for his living all time of the day,
A story I'll tell you that pleasant shall be —
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.
' He crept on his hands and his knees up and downe,
In a torn jacket and ragged patcht gowne ;
For he had never a leg to the knee —
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.
' He was of stomake courageious and stout,
For he had no cause to complaine of the gout ;
To go upon stilts most cunning was he,
With a staff on his neck most gallant and free.
' Yea, no good-fellowship would he forsake,
Were it in secret a purse to take,
His help was as good as any might be,
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.
' When he upon any such service did go.
The crafty young Cripple provided it so,
His tools he kept close in an old hollow tree,
That stood from the city a mile, two or three.
* Thus all the day long he beg'd for relief,
And late in the night he play'd the false theefe,
And seven years together this custom kept he,
And no man thought him such a person to be.
' There were few graziers who went on the way,
But unto the Cripple for passage did pay,
And every brave merchant that he did descry,
He emptied their purses ere they passed by.
' The gallant Lord Courtenay, both valiant and bold,
Rode forth with great plenty of silver and gold,
At Exeter there (for) a purchase to pay,
But that the false Cripple his journey did stay.
' For why, the false Cripple heard tidings of late,
As he lay for almes at this noble-man's gate,
What day and what houre his journey should be ;
'* This is," quoth the Cripple, " a booty for me."
283

Devon [ch.

xm

' Then to his companions this matter he moved,
Which he in like actions before-time had proved ;
They make themselves ready, and deeply they sweare.
This money's their own, before they come there.
' Upon his two stilts the Cripple doth mount,
To have the best share he makes his account ;
All clothed in canvas downe to the ground,
He takes up his standing, his mates with him round.
' Then comes the Lord Courtenay, with half a score men,
That little suspected these thieves in their den,
And they (thus) perceiving them come to their hand,
In a darke (winter's) evening, they bid him to stand.
' " Deliver thy purse," quoth the Cripple, " with speed —
For we be good fellows and thereof have need."
" Not so," quoth Lord Countenay, " but this I'll tell ye,
Win it and wear it, else get none of me."
' With that the Lord Courtenay stood on his defence,
And so did his servants ; but ere they went hence.
Two of the true men were slain in the fight,
And four of the thieves were put to the flight.
' And while for their safeguard they run thus away,
The jolly bold Cripple did hold the rest play,
And with his pikestaff he wounded them so,
As they were unable to run or to go.
' With fighting the Lord Courtney was driven out of breath,
And most of his servants were wounded to death.
Then came other horsemen riding so fast.
The Cripple was forced to flye at the last.
' And over a river that ran there beside,
Which was very deep and eighteen foot wide,
With his long staff and his stilts leaped he,
And shifted himself in an old hollow tree.
' Then through the country was hue and cry made,
To have these bold thieves apprehended and staid ;
The Cripple he creep on his hands and his knees,
And on the hieway great posting he sees.
' And as they came riding, he begging doth say,
" O give me one penny, good masters, I pray ;"
And thus on to Exeter creeps he along,
No man suspecting that he had done wrong.
284

iRRY POMEROY CASTLE

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
' Anon the Lord Courtney he spies in the street,
He comes unto him and he kisses his feet,
Saying, " God save your honour and keep you from ill,
And from the hands of your enemies still !"
' " Amen !" quoth Lord Courtney, and therewith flung downe
Unto the poor Cripple an English crowne ;
Away went the Cripple, and thus did he thinke,
" Five hundred pound more would make me to drinke."
' In vain that hue and cry it was made,
They found none of them, though the country was laid ;
But this grieved the Cripple both night and by day,
That he so unluckily mist of his prey.
' Nine hundred pound this Cripple had got,
By begging and thieving— so good was his lot —
" A thousand pound he would make it," he said,
" And then he would quite give over his trade."
' But as he (thus) strived his mind to' fulfill,
In following his actions so lewd and so ill,
At last he was taken, the law to suffice,
Condemned and hanged at Exeter 'size.
' Which made all men greatly amazed to see,
That such an impotent person as he
Should venture himself in such actions as they,
To rob in such sort upon the hye-way."
On a hill about two miles east of Totnes stand the ruins of
Berry Pomeroy, at a little distance almost hidden in the thick
woods around them. Vistas of green leaves without end open
from the road to the castle, long lines of beeches and oaks stretch
ing out of sight and broken by glades chequered with flickering
lights and shadows. On the north and east side of the walls the
ground falls away precipitously to a great depth, and a stream
runs along the valley beneath. The ruins are covered with ivy,
saplings and bushes spread their fresh shoots and sprays among
the crumbling stones, and all is open to the sky; but enough
remains to show what a noble budding Berry Pomeroy must have
been. The outer waUs of the Castle were built by the Pomeroys
—it is thought probable by Henry de Pomeroy, in the reign of
King John, though the Castle was granted them by William the
285

Devon [ch. xiii
Conqueror. A hexagonal tower flanks the gateway on either side.
Above it is the guard-room, in which two piUars support circular
arches that are in a very perfect condition, and the. grooves in the
walls for the portcuUis may easily be traced. It is usually reported
that the Pomeroys' coat of arms is stUl visible on the gateway, but
as the lodge-keeper, who for many years has trimmed the ivy at
intervals, has never seen it, it may be that a little imagination has
come to the help of mere eyesight.
A curtain waU connects the gateway with a tower called St
Margaret's Tower, of which merely the sheU remains, smothered
in overhanging ivy, brambles, long grass, and a tapestry of plants,
and beneath the tower is a smaU, dark dungeon. To the
left, across the quadrangle and along the western wall, are a
number of rooms more or less imperfect that belonged to the
Pomeroys' castle. They lead one into another, and contain
enormous fireplaces and chimneys. Opposite the gateway the
ruins are much more broken down, in parts hardly more than
fragments and tall trees peer over a low wall, the crowning point
of a very steep ascent.
Just inside the gateway, on the right, is the skeleton of the
splendid west front, due to Sir Edward Seymour. The inner
buddings, which rose in Tudor days, are of a character entirely
different from that of the older remains, and the Seymours'
spacious ideas were reflected in the magnificence of their castle.
The windows and traces of fireplaces in the walls show that it
must have been four stories high and held a maze of rooms.
One becomes confused wandering through enclosed spaces, cell
like, for the great height, unbroken by floor or ceUing, gives an
impression that the rooms are small. Over all is an uncomfort
able sense of desertion, and the high empty windows, with stone
muUions and square labels, somehow give a skuU-like appearance
to the frame of the west front. There is not the feeling of repose
that there is about some ruins, which seem to disown their debt
to man, and to be bent on pretending that they are as entirely
a work of Nature as any lichen-covered boulder lying near them.
I do not know if Berry Pomeroy is said to be haunted, but it.
286

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
awakens an uneasy sensation that it is itself a ghost — the ghost
of an unsatisfied ambition, the creation of many minds who
planned and toUed, soared and fell.
As a matter of fact, the Seymours' castle was never finished,
and it is curious that, as it was destroyed in comparatively
recent times, there should be no account of such an important
event. The theory most usuaUy accepted is that it was burned by
lightning ; but there is no absolute proof that this was the case.
Of the Pomeroys of Berry Pomeroy few records of much im
portance remain. Ralph de la Pomerai was so ' greatly assistant
to WUliam the Conqueror in subduing this kingdom, that no less
than fifty-eight lordships in Devonshire were awarded him. Henry
de Pomeroy, in the reign of King John, was a powerful and
rebeUious noble, who must have been a terror to his weaker neigh
bours. Occasional gUmpses of this family are given by old deeds
and papers, as, for instance, in 1267, when a ' Pardon ' was granted
by ' Edward, eldest son of the king, to Sir Henry de la Pomeroy,
who was against the king in the late disturbances in the kingdom.'
About the same date is a grant by Sir Henry, ' for the health of his
soul,' of the Manor of Canonteign, the advowsons of four churches,
and ' other possessions to the Prior and Convent of the Blessed
Mary of Martin ... by ordinance of Walter, Bishop of Exeter.'
Some years later Edward I, now King, sent a second pardon to
Sir Henry ' and Joan, his wife, for detaining IsabeUa, daughter
and one of the heirs of John de Moles, deceased, and marrying her
against the king's wUl to WUliam de Botreaux, the younger.' So
that he appears to have followed his own pleasure with extreme
independence. A note on a more peaceful subject is extracted from the Testa
de NevU : ' Geoffrey de la Worthy holds one tenement, four acres
of land and a half, and two gardens of Henry de la Pomeroye,
in Bery, rendering at Easter and Midsummer four shillings and
nine pence, and one pound of wax and three capons, the price of
the wax sixpence, and the capons one penny.' One penny !
The terms of settling several other disputes are preserved — in
one case at great length. In the reign of Henry VII, Sir Edward
287

Devon [ch. xiii
Pomeroy fell out with ' the Mayor of Totnes and his brethren ' ;
several gentlemen arbitrated between them, and eventually
' awarded that the said Sir Edward Pomeroy shaU clearly exclude,
forgive, and put from him aU malice and debates . . . and from
hensforth to be loving unto theym,' and the same concUiatory
spirit was to be shown by the other side. As a really satisfactory
conclusion, Sir Edward was desired to send the Mayor and his
brethren a buck to be eaten in state, ' Provided that the same
Sir Edward be at the etyng of the same bucke, in goodly manner.
Furthermore we award that the said maiour and his brethren
shal paye for the wyne which shal be dronke at the etyng of the
same bucke.'
Sir Thomas Pomeroy, the last of this famUy to own the Castle,
feU into disgrace through joining in the Western rebeUion against
the Prayer-Book, and his estate passed to the Protector Somerset.
It would be absurd in this chapter to attempt to touch on more
than a very few points in the history of the great famUy of the
Seymours, or to touch on any that are not connected with Devon
shire. Amongst the Duke of Somerset's papers are some ex
tremely interesting letters and documents relating to Sir Edward
Seymour's descendants in this county. The second wife of the
Protector Somerset, Ann Stanhope, is described in no flattering
terms, one biographer attributing some of the Duke's later troubles
to ' the pride, the haughty hate, the unquiet vanity of a mannish,
or rather of a divellish, woman.' Haywood says she was ' subtle
and violent in accomplishing her ends, and for pride, monstrous.'
It can easily be imagined, therefore, that she persuaded the
Duke to set aside her stepson in favour of her own eldest son ;
but aU the honours that should have passed to him were forfeited
by the attainder of the Duke. The title of Earl of Hertford
was, however, restored to Ann Stanhope's son in the reign of
James I.
The true heir, Sir Edward Seymour, to whose descendants the
dukedom has now reverted, was given Berry Pomeroy by his
father. His grandson, Edward, showed great zeal in making ready
the defences of the coast when the Armada was expected, and

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
from various letters, orders, and ' precepts,' it is obvious that
these preparations brought him great responsibUity and an
immense amount of work. In 1586 a letter was forwarded to
him from the Lord-Lieutenant in reference to the 'beacon watches.'
Instructions were sent that ' one, two, or three horses for post '
should be kept at a convenient place near each beacon, that one
or more might be ready to start at a moment's notice if the signal
were given. Further directions were : ' That the wisest and
discreetest men of every parish be appointed to assist the con
stables ; . . . Commandment to every person within every parish
that they do not [set any furze or] heath on fire after seven of the
clock in the afternoon.' And there were a host of orders regarding
' the trained soldiers, and also all others mustered and charged
with armour.'
Later Colonel Seymour was called into councU with the Earl of
Bath, the Lord-Lieutenant of the county, and others, to draw up
orders as to stores of ' powder, match, and lead,' that ' one moiety
more of each sort ' be kept in towns than was previously ordered,
and that ' armour, weapons, horses, and other necessary furnitures
for the wars be held in perfect readiness ... for aU sudden service
without defect.'
His grandson, another Sir Edward, was a very loyal and devoted
servant of Charles I. In 1643 he was given fuU power and
authority in His Majesty's name ' to impress, raise, enroU, and
retain one regiment of 1,500 foot soldiers ;' and in the foUowing
August he was appointed to the important post of Governor of
Dartmouth. Besides supervising the garrison and the defences of
the town, this officer was required to raise loans, supply ordnance,
ammunition, and other necessaries — sometimes even troops — to
captains in the neighbourhood. He was also desired to do his best
to provide money and ' sea- victuals ' for ships going out in the
King's service, and received particular instructions from the King
to prevent any ' ships, vessels, prizes, or anything belonging to
them,' that might be captured, from being plundered or disposed
of before they had been ' legaUy adjudicated by the judge of our
Admiralty there ... for the time being.'
289 T

Devon [ch. xiii
The tone of letters that passed between certain generals, Royalist
and Puritan, about this date, furnishes an additional reason for
mourning the tragedies of the time. The foUowing letter is from
the Earl of Warwick to Colonel Seymour :
' In Torbay, aboard the James,
'1644, July 18.
' I return you my serious acknowledgment of your civUity, and
should most gladly embrace an opportunity to serve you, not only
for your respects, but also for that ancient acquaintance I have
had with your noble famUy and the honour I have borne it, the
recaUing whereof to memory adds to the trouble of our present
distance, which I hope God wUl, in due time, reconcUe, so as the
mutual freedom of conversation which we sometimes enjoyed
may be restored, which I shall the more value as it may give me
advantage of testifying my esteem of you. ... It is a pity the truth
should be clouded by some mis-informations that have overspread
these parts. God wUl in his time scatter them and undeceive
those that wait upon him for counsel.'
A few days later, in Colonel Seymour's reply to this letter, he
admits he has been culpably generous to his adversary. ' Truly,
for my own part, I had rather err with mercy than justice, for
had not my lenity made me a delinquent to duty, your Lordship
had wanted some of Dartmouth now aboard you.'
At the beginning of the war a fine letter was written by Sir
William Waller to his friend and present adversary, Lord Hopton :
' Bath,
'1643, July 16.
' The experience I have had of your work, and the happiness I
have enjoyed in your friendship, are wounding considerations to
me when I look upon this present distance between us ; certainly,
my affections to you are so unchangeable that hostUity itself
cannot violate my friendship to your person, but I must be true to
the cause wherein I serve. The old limitation — usque ad alias —
holds still, and where my conscience is interested, all other obliga-
290

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
tions are swaUowed up. I should most gladly wait upon you,
according to your desire, but that I look upon you as engaged in
that party beyond the possibUity of a retreat, and, consequently,
incapable of being wrought upon by my persuasions, and I know
the conference can never be so close between us but that it would
take wind and receive construction to my dishonour. That great
God who is the searcher of my heart, knows with what a sad sense
I go on upon this service, and with what a perfect hatred I detest
this war without an enemy, but I look upon it as opus Dei, which
is enough to sUence aU passion in me. The God of Peace, in his
good time, send us the blessing of peace, and, in the mean time,
fit us to receive it. We are both upon the stage, and must act the
parts that are assigned to us in this tragedy ; let us do it in a way
of honour and without personal animosities.'
Later, Colonel Seymour gave up the Governorship of Dart
mouth, and was succeeded by Sir Lewis Pollard.
Among the Seymour papers are some interesting notes, dated
' 1645, May 22/ relating to horses and arms raised in the
Hundred of Stanborough. ' Mr Bampfield, parson, wUl bring a
horse and arms to-morrow at Berry. . . . John Key of Rattery
affirms that he hath three horses in the King's service; that he
hath one mare only, which he proffers ; his estate not above 40 li.
per annum, and hath no money. Dipford : — Mr William Fowell,
late of Dipford Downs, assessed a horse and arms complete ; his
wife appears ; says that Prince Maurice had one horse and Captain
Newton had another for a country horse very lately ; all the
answer. Mr John Newton doth not appear. Buckfastleigh : —
Mr Richard Cable hath brought one gelding with aU arms, only
a carbine instead of pistols, and no rider. Dortington : — Mr Cham
pernowne brought a little pretty fat old horse, but nothing else.'
In 1647 Colonel Seymour's lands and goods were sequestrated,
and he himself was kept either in prison or on parole aU through
CromweU's days. Letters and papers of this period shed a light on
the difficulties and hardships that in some cases befeU the families
of Cavaliers. Sir Thomas Fairfax intervened on behalf of Mistress
291 T 2

Devon [ch. xiii
Seymour, who was then at the estate of Maiden Bradley in WUt-
shire, saying that he had forbidden the soldiers to molest her in any
way, and begging the Committee for the County to insure that no
civUian ' should prej udice her in the enj oyment of her rights. ' The
ladyhada humbler but very earnest advocate, aservantof Sir Henry
Ludlow's, who had been in danger of being ruined ' had she not
been means for my preservation.' She had begged his liberty of
Colonel Molesworth when the King's soldiers were hunting for
him, in order to exchange him for one of their side taken prisoner,
' a blackamoor.' Mistress Seymour, too, gave this poor man a
good price for some wheat, ' which then none else would do, and
had she not bought it, it is very likely that it would have been
taken away by the soldiers, as the corn in the barn was.'
Mistress Seymour was evidently strong-minded as weU as
charitable, as is shown in a letter written by her husband
from the Marshalsea, at Exeter, — an appeal to be given a
hearing. He complains that being ' hurried away to prison and
no bail taken, no crime or accusation produced, makes me sigh
when I remember the liberty due to a freeborn subject in England';
and the thrust is followed by a threat : ' If this request be denied,
I have found a way to be even with them ; for, if not granted, I
intend to send up my wife. . . . And I pray advise the Council
of State from me, in relation to their own quiet, let them grant
my request rather than be punished with her importunity.'
The CouncU were evidently impressed by Colonel Seymour's
wisdom, for two months later they granted him a pass to return
home. His liberty was, however, very much clipped, and rather
more than two years later the foUowing ' parole ' was exacted of
him : ' Undertaking to remain at the dwelling-house of Mr Holt
in Exeter, and when required to deliver himself a prisoner to
Captain Unton Crooke.' Signed.
Sir Edward Seymour died in 1659, an(i Colonel Seymour, now
Sir Edward, became a member of Parliament a year or so later.
His letters to Lady Seymour from London are amusing from their
variety of news and gossip. Sir Edward's style was terse, not to
say jerky. One letter he begins by bitter complaints of their
292

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
'most undutiful son,' his 'obstinacy 'and' untowardness,' and then
passes on to speak of his own imminent return. Then : ' I was this
day sennight, which was the last Saturday, upon the scaffold,
where I saw Sir Henry Vane's head severed from his shoulders . . .
The Queen perfectly recovered. Cherries are cried here in the
streets for a penny a pound.'
Sir Edward received scanty reward for aU his sacrifices, but he
was reappointed Governor of Dartmouth, and in 1679 his son
writes to teU him that he had been ' pricked Sheriff for the County
of Devon ... by the King with all the kindness imaginable,' and
an assurance that if Sir Edward felt the work too much for him,
a subordinate should be found and the ' chargeable part ' made
easy. The Earl of Bath wrote by the same post : ' His Majesty
declared in Council that he made choice of you, not only
because you were the best man of your county, but also a
person on whom he could by long experience place his greatest
confidence.' Sir Edward died in the winter of 1688, and his son became the
fifth Sir Edward Seymour of Berry Pomeroy in succession.
The new Sir Edward was a very distinguished man, who in
1672 had been unanimously chosen Speaker of the House of
Commons. He was the Seymour whose influence Lord Macaulay
rated so highly, and whose support was extremely valuable to
William of Orange when he arrived in England. Unfortunately,
few of Sir Edward's papers, or papers referring to him, are now
to be found. A long and carefuUy balanced epitaph in Maiden
Bradley Church describes him as
A man of such endowments
AS ADDED LUSTRE TO HIS WHOLE ANCESTRY,
COMMANDED REVERENCE FROM HIS CONTEMPORARIES,
AND STANDS THE FINEST PATTERN TO POSTERITY.
$ # * * *
THE SENATE, THE BULWARK OF THE ENGLISH LIBERTY,
IN WHICH HE PRESIDED FOR SEVERAL YEARS,
FOUND HIS ELOQUENCE AN ADVOCATE,
HIS INTEGRITY A GUARDIAN,
HIS VIGOUR A CHAMPION FOR ITS PRIVILEGES.
293

Devon [ch. xiii
About five miles north-east of Berry Pomeroy stands Compton
Castle, and there is a tradition that they were once connected by
a subterranean passage. Compton is a very interesting example of a
fortified manor-house, built in the earlypart of the fifteenth century.
It stands low on the slope of a narrow, winding green vaUey, and
on the west the hiU has been cut back to make room for the walls.
The castle faces east, a garden-plot lies in front, and the founda
tions of an ancient wall divide it from the lawn beyond. Close to
the central door stands the base and broken shaft of a stone cross.
The picturesque western front of the castle is gabled and em
battled, and a very high archway is buUt in the centre of the wall.
The colour is difficult to describe, for the castle is very much over
grown with ivy and a faint green lichen has crept over the stones
in many parts, but the shades pass from a rich cream colour to a
soft grey. A very marked feature is ' the great number of projec
tions carried on machicoulis, through the openings of which stones
and other missiles could be thrown on the heads of assaflants.'
Both the chief doorway and a postern gate to the south were
defended by portcullises.
On the north side an Early Perpendicular window marks the
chapel. The central doorway opened into the large and almost
square guard-room, and on the north side of this room a pointed
doorway leads into the chapel, which keeps some of its special
characteristics. At the east end a square space is sunk in the waU
above the spot where the altar stood, and in this space the faint
traces of a fresco can stiU just be seen. In the waU that shuts off
the guard-room is a cinquefoUed piscina and a four-light window,
the stonework of which is like that in the east window, and this
window aUowed anyone in the guard-room to join in Divine
service. In the west waU is a hagioscope, and from a room next
the chapel a newel staircase led to the priest's room on the floor
above. A little window with two cinquefoUed openings in his
waU enabled the priest to look down into the chapel., and the
height of the sUl from the floor suggests that it may have served
him as a prie-dieu. The moulded base of a stone cross still
remains over the ancient belfry, which rises out of a mass of ivy.
294

COMPTON CASTLE

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
There are a bewUdering number of rooms, many now inacces
sible, and the height of the walls shows that there were two or
three, and in the north-east block four, stories. The banqueting-
haU, forty-two feet in length and twenty-three in width, has
utterly disappeared, and only the gable-marks of the roof against
the buddings on the south side have enabled Mr Roscoe Gibbs to
draw his very careful deductions. In the kitchen the huge fire
place, stretching the whole width of one waU, stiU keeps its great
fire-bars ; next the kitchen is the steward's room, above which
two stories stul stand, though the upper one is absolutely in ruins.
Outside these rooms is a large open space, now grass-grown, and
the sprays and buds of a cluster-rose tap against the massive waUs.
Close by lies a heavy round of granite, slightly hollowed out
towards the centre, which is shown as one of the stones used for
grinding corn. In an upper room is a hiding-place for treasure —
two long, shaUow cavities in the floor, of which there cannot have
been the slightest sign when the floor was covered with planking.
A vaulted passage leads to the south court, and in one corner of
this court rises a watch-tower over a horrible little dungeon or
chamber of torture.
The waUs throughout the whole building are from two and a half
to four feet thick, and a thick and solid waU nearly twenty-four
feet high protects an inner court, where even in January the turf
is firm, springy, and close. At the farther end, on steps leading
into the garden, a peacock looks wonderfully appropriate, and
some white fantaUs strutting in front of the heavy waUs add very
much to the picture. There is scarcely any sign of the old
'pleasaunce,' except a low and fairly broad box-hedge, which
runs each side of a path in the present garden, where a few
violets and one or two strawberry-blossoms are tokens of the
softness of the air.
The Castle has changed owners many times. ' Stephen ' held it
of Judhael of Totnes ; then it passed to the De la Poles ; Lady
Alice de la Pole gave it to the Comptons, and seven generations
later a Compton heiress brought it, in the reign of Edward II, to
the family of Gilberts, of whom Sir Humphrey Gilbert was a
295

Devon [ch. xiii
descendant. The GUberts seem to have lived alternately at Comp
ton and on their older property, Greenway, and with one interval
the castle belonged to them tiU nearly the end of the eighteenth
century.- The only trace of them now to be seen is in the spandrels
of a smaU cinquef oil-headed opening on the projecting gabled
wing to the south of the central door. Each spandrel is sculptured
with their crest, a squirrel holding a hazel branch.
Mr. Eden PhiUpotts has painted the ruins with a characteristic
touch :
'At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end of day,
when weary birds rustle in the ivy ere they sleep, hearts and
eyes, gifted to feel and see a little above the level prose of working
hours, shaU yet conceive these heroes of old moving within their
deserted courts. Some chambers are stUl whole, and bats sidle
through the naked window at the call of dusk ; some are thrown
open to sun and rain and storm ; the chapel stands intact ; the
scoop for holy water lies stnl within the thickness of its waU. But
aloft, where rich arras once hid the stone, and sUver sconces held
the torch, Nature now sets her hand, brings spleenwort and harts-
tongue, traUs the ivy, the speedwell, and the toad-flax. . . .
' Ivy-mantled, solemn, sUent, it stands like a sentient thing,
and broods with blind eyes upon ages forgotten ; when these grey
stones still echoed neigh of horse and bay of hound, rattle of steel,
blare of trump, and bustle of great retinues.'
The castle of Okehampton stands about half a mUe from the
town, and looks on one side over fertUe hUls and valleys, woods,
and rich meadows, and the gleaming waters of the West Oke-
ment, on the other towards the bold, changeless outlines of the
outer barriers of Dartmoor. The Castle was once surrounded by
its park. Risdon mentions that originally there were ' Castle,
market, and park adjoining. . . . The park, which containeth
a large circuit of land, King Henry the eighth, by the persua
sion of Sir Richard PoUard, disparked and alienated the same.'
The Okement, rippling over a rocky bed — the name uisg maenic
means the ' stony water ' — hurries past the foot of a knoll on
which the castle rises out of a cloud of green leaves that shelter
296

OKEHAMPTON CASTLE

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
and half hide the walls. Protected by the river and a steeply
scarped bank on the south, a natural ravine on the north, and a
deep notch cut on the western side, the mass of slate rock that it
stands on was a point of vantage. On the crest of the hill the
keep stands on a mound, with which two sets of buildings were
connected by curtain waUs. These buildings stretch down the
slope to the east, the space between the two blocks narrowing
towards the gateway.
Mr Worth observes that in Devonshire and CornwaU most of the
smaUer Norman keeps were round, as at Totnes, Launceston, and
Plympton; but the stronger castles had square keeps. Okehampton,
though not a large or very strong fortress, was distinguished by its
square keep, and ' occupies what may be caUed a middle position.'
Tradition has always held that Baldwin de Brionis, to whom
the Conqueror gave the manor, buUt the Castle, and Mr Worth,
after a searching examination, thinks that, as regards the lower
part of the keep waUs, this may very weU be the case ; for they are
not only Norman, but Norman of the period in which Baldwin
lived. The other duUdings are later, but vary in date, the most
modern being the part of the block which contains the Chapel, and
which was probably reconstructed from older buddings towards
the close of the thirteenth century.
There are gaps in the waUs of the keep, but the ruins show that
there were four rooms, two above and two below ; some of the
windows and a fireplace in one of the upper rooms are still to be
seen. In the northern block of buildings was the great hall — forty-
five feet long and twenty-five feet wide — lighted by two large
windows to the south, and entered by a boldly moulded granite
doorway. A second doorway in one corner led to a staircase-turret
which led to the roof.
On the southern side the buddings are larger and less imperfect.
Here is the chapel, ' evidently, ' says Mr Worth, ' a portion of a larger
structure, which has, perhaps, for the most part disappeared. . . .'
East of the chapel are the guard-rooms, in a two-storied block
of two rooms on each floor. A doorway in the north-eastern corner
leads into the porter's lodge, a smaU room in the gate-tower with
297

Devon [ch. xiii
' a loop window in the eastern waU commanding the approach.
Above this chamber there is one precisely simUar in the upper
story (the floor, of course, is gone), and it is noteworthy that this
is the only part of the fabric that retains its roof, which is sup
ported by three massive stone ribs.'
The barony of Okehampton was one of many grants made
by the Conqueror to Baldwin de Brionis, and some generations
later it passed by marriage to the Courtenays, in which famUy it
remained untU the Marquis of Exeter was attainted and beheaded
in 1538. The Castle was among the possessions that Queen Mary
restored to the Earl of Devon, and on his death in 1556 his lands
were divided amongst his heirs. Okehampton Castle feU to the
share of the Mohuns, and in 1628 John Mohun was granted a
peerage and took the title of Lord Mohun of Okehampton. The
last Lord Mohun died in 1712.
To the barony of Okehampton belonged Floyer's Hayes, in the
parish of St Thomas the Apostle, near Exeter, and it was held on
this curious tenure : ' That if the Courtenays, Earls of Devon,
came at any time into Exe Isle, they [the Floyers] were to attend
them, decently apparelled with a clean towel on their shoulders,
a flagon of wine in one hand and a sUver bowl in the other, and
offer to serve them with drink.'
About thirteen mUes south-west of Okehampton, Sydenham
stands in a beautiful valley, overshadowed by woods, in which
the shining green of the laurels, the darker masses of the rhodo
dendrons' tapering leaves, patches of russet bracken, and feathery
light green moss make a feast of colour, even when overhead there
is only the bare tracery of twigs and branches. The coverts lie
on a hiU-side that is steep and fairly high, and at the foot is a
rushing stream which is crossed by a bridge exactly opposite the
front of the house.
The following notes have been most kindly sent me by Mrs.
Tremayne :
' The Manor of Sidelham, or Sidraham, now called Sydenham,
appears to have been originally held by four Saxon Thanes, whose
names have not been preserved, and to have passed from them
298

SYDENHAM HOUSE

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
into the hands of that powerful noble, JudhaeU de Totnais. On his
banishment by William Rufus, his property was confiscated, and
Sydenham gave its name to a family who still possessed it in the
reign of Henry III, and was succeeded by a family called Mauris,
from whom it passed in marriage to Trevage, and from Trevage to
Wise. Part of the house dates from the fourteenth century, and
is said to have originaUy formed a quadrangle or H, but in the
reign of Elizabeth it was built into the shape of an E, and is a
very perfect example of Tudor domestic architecture.
' Sir Edward Wise, in the reign of James I, very much beautified
the house, and legend says that he tried to add such height and
such an amount of granite to it that Risdon writes, " The very
foundations were ready to reel under the burthen." The house
lies in a lovely wooded vaUey on the banks of the River Lyd, and it
has four separate entrances, each opening on to a court or garden.
Access to the front-entrance — commonly called the Green
Court — is through a fine iron gateway, and above the central
door are the Wise arms. Most of the windows have eight rounded
granite muUions and smaU leaded panes of glass, and in some the
original glass stiU remains. Two windows in the front are of
Charles I.'s date, and have quaint fan-shaped lights. Over the
large granite open fireplace in the front-haU is the.date 1656, when
the house underwent repair after damage, caused, it is said, in the
CivU Wars. There is a story repeated in many histories of Devon,
and told by Lysons amongst others, that Sydenham was taken in
1644 by Colonel Holborne ; but I have every reason to believe that
the Sydenham garrisoned and taken was Combe Sydenham, in the
parish of Stogumber, near Taunton, but the fact that within the
last forty years a sword and other weapons, also seventeenth-
century horseshoes, have been found may be taken as a proof that
fighting of some sort did take place.
' In making alterations in the kitchen chimney some twenty
years ago, a little hiding-place, or priest's room, was found open
ing out of it, and in it was an oak table and the remains of a
chair ; and since then large and small unsuspected rooms have
been discovered, and it has been said that in the largest a troop
299

Devon [ch. xiii
could lie hidden — as indeed it could with ease. Quite recently
a secret passage leading from the house towards the river has been
found, bearing out the legend always handed down, " that the
Lady Wise of the day escaped with a large party by a secret
passage near the river, and got into the woods undetected by
the soldiers who were round the house." It is very probable
that the secret rooms mentioned and the passage communicated.
' There is fine oak paneUing in most of the rooms, and in the
dining-room the paneUing is inlaid in a delicate design with an
ivory-like substance. Secret passages exist to this day in the walls,
which are of immense thickness, in some places being seven feet
in depth. There are three oak staircases, the main one being finely
carved with figures standing at the angles, and another having
very fine newels.
' In what goes by the name of the King's Room there is an
ancient bed, with fine old red sdk curtains andthePrince of Wales's
plumes over it, in which Charles I and Charles II are reported to
have slept. It is quite likely that Charles II, when Prince of Wales,
did come here, as he is known to have been many weeks in the
neighbourhood.' The garden is delightful, and no change in it has been made for
very many years. A wide lawn slopes away from the house, and a
very small straight rivulet runs through it just a foot or two from
the path. At the foot of the slope is a tiny lake, which, though very
narrow, divides the lawn from end to end, and beyond the water
the ground rises graduaUy. Clipped bushes and a large flower-
border mark the farther edge of the lawn.
The Tremaynes were originally a Cornish family, but they came
to Devonshire early in the fourteenth century. For at this time
IsabeUa Trenchard of CoUocombe married Thomas Tremayne,
and after his death Sir John Damarel, ' and so much gain'd the
affection of her second husband that he gave her and her heirs
by Tremain (having none of his own) ' some of his estates.
Thomas Tremayne and Philippa his wife lived during the
sixteenth century, and had sixteen children, several of whom dis
tinguished themselves. Andrew and Nicholas were twins, and so
300

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
amazingly alike ' in all their lineaments, so equal in stature, so
colour'd in hair, and of such resemblance in face and gesture,' that
they were only recognized, ' even by their near relations/ ' by
wearing some several coloured riband or the like "... yet somewhat
more strange was that their minds and affections were as one : for
what the one loved the other desired : . . . yea, such a confedera
tion of inbred power and of sympathy was in their natures, that
if Nicholas were sick or grieved, Andrew felt the like pain, though
far distant and remote in their persons.'
When Sir Peter Carew fled the country, suspected of plotting
against Queen Mary, Andrew Tremayne embarked with him at
Weymouth, and later Nicholas joined his twin in France, and they
threw in their lot with a troop of adventurers who harassed the
Channel. Froude has said : ' The sons of honourable houses . . .
dashed out upon the waters to revenge the Smithfield massacres.
They found help where it could least have been looked for :
Henry II of France hated heresy, but he hated Spain worse.
Sooner than see England absorbed in the Spanish monarchy, he
forgot his bigotry in his politics. He furnished these young
mutineers with ships and money and letters of marque. The
Huguenots were their natural friends ; with Rochelle for an
arsenal, they held the mouth of the Channel, and harassed the
communications between Cadiz and Antwerp.'
OccasionaUy the twins met with iU-luck, and an entry in the
Acts of the Privy Council records that : ' To be committed to
several prisons, to be kept secret, without having conference with
any . . . Andrew Tremayne to the Marshalsey and Nicholas Tre
mayne to the Gate House, suspected of piracy.' Afterwards they
went back to their life of risks and chances on the high seas.
But when Elizabeth came to the throne a different view was
taken of these rovers. ' Privateering suited Elizabeth's conveni
ence,' says Froude. ' Time was wanted to restore the Navy. The
privateers were a resource in the interval . . . they were really the
armed force of the country.' So (in 1559) instructions were sent
to the English Ambassador in Paris that certain gentlemen, among
whom were the Tremaynes, ' as shaU serve their country, the
301

Devon [ch. xiii
Ambassador shall himself comfort them to return home. Circum
spection must be used.' The postscript is characteristically
cautious. The Queen valued Nicholas as a trustworthy messenger, where
a matter needed discreet handling, and the bearer of it was likely to
be in danger. In 1559-60 the Bishop of Aquila wrote to the King of
Spain : ' The Queen has just sent to France an Englishman called
Tremaine, a great heretic, who is to disembark in Brittany. I
understand that he goes backwards and forwards with messages
to the heretics in that country.' On one journey he was arrested
when carrying letters in cipher, and Throckmorton, the English
Ambassador in Paris, wrote to the Due de Guise, asking for his
release. Nicholas was a special favourite of the Queen, but as he
loved a camp better than a court, she gave him leave 'to enter into
the service of the King of Navarre, by which means he wUl be
better able to serve her.' The King of Navarre, however, did not
greatly appreciate Tremayne, and a short time afterwards Throck
morton writes : ' The bearer, Mr Tremayne, came out of England
with intent to see the wars in Almain, or elsewhere, thereby to be
better able to serve the Queen. He has been here a good whUe to
hearken which way the flame wiU rise to his purpose ; but now,
finidng all the Princes in Christendom inclined to sit still, returns
home. Desires CecU to do something for him to help him to live,
as it will be right weU bestowed. The Queen wiU have a good
servant in him, and CecU an honest gentleman at his command.'
Andrew had entered the army, and in Scotland reaped fame
from the briUiant cavalry charge which drove the French back
into Leith. Lord Grey wrote in 1560-61 that he had chosen
Captain Tremayne to escort Lord James, ' because he is a gentle
man of good behaviour, courtesy, and weU trained, and also that
he stands in the favour of the Lords of Scotland by reason of his
valiant service at Leith.'
In the winter of 1562-63 the Queen began openly to help the
Huguenots at Havre, and Nicholas Tremayne was sent there at
the head of ' fifty horsemen pistolliers.' In the following May
Captain Tremayne's band and some others, in a skirmish, " re-
302

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
pulsed the Rheingrave's whole force, slain and taken near
400, with one ensign and seven drums. Not more than twenty of
their own were killed and wounded, none to his knowledge taken.'
Four days later Tremayne's troops, over-confident, risked too
much, and their Captain was shot, to the great grief of his fellow-
officers. Warwick wrote to CecU : ' Whereas you write that you
are more sorry for the death of Tremain than you could be glad
of the death of a 100 AUmaynes, I assure you that there is never
a man but is of the same opinion.' The Queen was much grieved
by the loss. ' She had resented,' says Froude, ' the expulsion of
the French inhabitants of Havre . . . she was more deeply affected
with the death of Tremayne ; and Warwick was obliged to tell her
that war was a rough game ; she must not discourage her troops
by finding fault with measures indispensable to success ; for Tre
mayne, he said, " men came there to venture their lives for her
Majesty and their country, and must stand to that which God
had appointed either to live or die." '
Risdon concludes his account of the twins by saying that they
died together; but this is not altogether accurate, for, about a week
after the death of Nicholas, Andrew with three hundred soldiers
set sad from Berwick for Havre. It is, however, quite true that
they died in the same place, and the interval between their deaths
was very short, for about seven weeks after his twin was killed
Andrew Tremayne succumbed to the plague.
Edward Tremayne, another brother, foUowed the fortunes of
the Marquis of Exeter, and was ' a great sufferer for his inviolable
fidelity to his noble master.' So firm was his devotion that even
torture failed to extort from him a confession that the Marquis
and ' the Lady Elizabeth ' had been involved in Wyatt's con
spiracy. His ' invincible resolution ' asserted their innocence,
even on the rack, and Queen Elizabeth later recognized this
splendid loyalty by making him ' one of the clerks of Her Majesty's
most honourable privy-council.'
CecU had a high opinion of Tremayne, and in 1569 showed his
faith in Tremayne's judgment by sending him to Ireland, to sift
the terrible but conflicting stories of its miseries and rebeUions, and
303

Devon [ch. xiii
' to let him know quietly the real condition of the country.' Tre
mayne, to begin with, wrote hopefully of remedies for all that was
wrong, but after a year's study and experience realized that the
trouble lay deeper than he had at first understood. Nevertheless,
some notes on the state of Ireland by Edward Tremayne are en
dorsed by Lord Burghley ' A good advice.' The Queen showed her
confidence by entrusting to him (in 1580) a very delicate task.
The treasure that Drake brought home in the Pelican had to be
registered ; the examination must be made before some public
officer, but the Queen feared that it might be necessary to make
restitution to Spain, and, not objecting to a little crooked dealing,
was very anxious that the total amount of the booty should never
be made known. In obedience to the instructions he received
from her, Tremayne writes to Walsingham : ' I have at no time
entered into the account, to know more of the very value of the
treasure than he made me acquainted with. And to say the truth,
I persuaded him to impart to me no more than need, for so I saw
him commanded in her Majesty's behalf, that he should reveal the
certainly to no man living.' Here foUows a fine tribute to Drake's
unselfishness : ' And withal, I must say, as I find by apparent
demonstration, he is so inclined to advance the value to be de
livered to her Majesty and seeking in general to recompense aU
men that have been in this case dealers with him, as I dare take
an oath with him, he wUl rather diminish his own portion than
leave any of them unsatisfied.'
Edmund Tremayne, of a later generation, faithfully served his
King in the troubled times of the CivU Wars, ' and was several
hundred pounds deep in their books, at Haberdashers' HaU, for his
loyalty. He is also stated to have repaid a considerable portion of
the money borrowed for the necessities of the Queen during her so-
journ at Exeter, at the time of the birth of the Princess Henrietta.
Later he was imprisoned and his goods were sequestrated.'
A very treasured possession in the famUy is the ' tongue token,'
believed to have originaUy belonged to this Edmund Tremayne.
These tokens, smaU enough to put under the tongue in case of
need, were given to the bearers of messages from those of high rank
304

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
or importance, as a proof of the genuineness of the bearer,
where there was too much danger to risk a written word.
This token is a tiny oval of gold, with the head of King
Charles on one side and his initials on the other. Edmund Tre
mayne is supposed to have received this token when he carried
the news of the Princess's birth from Exeter to the King at
Oxford. Mr Tremayne's grandson, Edmund, married Arabella, the
daughter and heiress of Sir Edward Wise, who brought Sydenham
to the Tremaynes. Various traces of the Wises remain, among
them a portrait of a golden-haired Lady Wise. She is painted
wearing a white satin dress, an immense Vandyck collar, and many
ornaments. Among her possessions was a magnificent set of ' horse
furniture,' made, it is supposed, for some state occasion when she
rode with her husband in the year (1633) that he was High Sheriff.
It is of very fine and rich crimson velvet, arranged to fit over the
pommels of the saddle and hang down on either side. The furniture
includes an imposing red velvet stirrup, and both this and the
saddle-cloth are elaborately and beautifully worked with sUver
embroidery, and hung with sUver tassels to match ; and a piece
of velvet that lay over the crupper is thickly strewn with delicate
little sUver cockle-sheUs.
About fourteen mUes north-east of Exeter, in the vaUey of the
Culm, stands Bradfield ; an avenue of cedars leads up to the house,
which is an Elizabethan one in a very perfect condition. The ban-
queting-haU is paneUed throughout, and its fine carved roof is sup
ported by elaborately carved and pierced hammer-beams. High
at one end is the minstrels' gaUery, and at the other is a latticed
window, which opened on to a corridor, and is said to have been
used by the lady of the house, who could see from it anything
that might be happening in the haU. A high arch on one side of
the haU divides a small paneUed room, where the guests gathered
before dinner. The arch is of white stone, and little blocks,
each bearing a shield or flower, are set at intervals on the
mouldings. The music-room is panelled, and above the panels are hangings
305 u

Devon [ch. xiii
of Spanish leather covered with graceful designs. The fireplace
and very interesting ' porch ' projecting into the room look like
late Italian Renaissance work, though, from the dresses of the
carved figures on them, they are supposed to have been actuaUy
made in England. The porch is richly carved and painted, and
slender strips of very light wood are inlaid amongst a mass of
ornamental details. The figures seem more than a little incon
gruous to each other. On one panel are Adam and Eve with
the Tree of Knowledge between them, and above appear ladies
and gentlemen of the court of Queen Elizabeth— little coloured
figures, standing well out from the backs of their niches.
The fireplace is very elaborately carved and painted, and here,
too, are figures in curious juxtaposition surrounded by very rich
decorations. Amongst others may be seen a farmer and his
wife, a cook, with a large goose that she is about to kiU, and a
dairymaid, with a miniature cow in her arms. High above these
are the sons and daughters of Jesse in splendid robes and
crowns. Bradfield, in ancient days BradefeUe, was once held by a family
of that name. The deed that carried it to the Walronds is not
dated, but a marginal note says that ' Fulke Paynel ' was dead in
I Henry III. The deed runs as foUows :
Fulke Paynel grants to Richard Walerond of Exeter all his land
of Bradfield in his Manor of Offeculme. Richard Walerond is to
make two suits yearly, one at ' La Hockeday,'* and one at Michael
mas amercement, to consist of one sextary of wine of the value of
sixpence and not more. Grant of common pasture throughout the
manor, except in fields and meadows. One pound of pepper to be
paid at Michaelmas annuaUy. In recognition of this grant Richard
Walerond ' pays to Fulke Paynel five marks of sUver, and gives to
Hande his wife ' one golden ring, and to WUliam his heir one
golden brooch.
* ' La Hockeday ' is commonly, but incorrectly, supposed to com
memorate the freedom of the English by the massacre of the Danes on the
Feast of St. Brice, 1002. ' Hoke-tide ' began on the Monday after the
second Sunday after Easter. 306

BRADFIELD

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
Witnesses : Simon son of Roger, Hamelin de Boulay, William de
Lomene, Walter de Tiddecomba, Simon de Baunton and Robert
his brother, Peter Comyn, Radulphus de Doddescomba, Walter
de SoffewUl, ' and many others.'
Among the Walrond papers is an agreement dated Michaelmas,
1261, regarding a farm ' let for nineteen years, in consideration of
four marks paid and one mark a year for six years and rent of six
shillings a year . . . and two capons at Michaelmas and one bushel
of winter wheat at Christmas in each year, from one ferling of land
in Cumb.'
I believe that the views held by Sir Henry Walrond of the
arrival of WUliam of Orange are not clearly recorded, but whatever
they were, a note written by General Ginkel, during the march
from Tor Bay to WhitehaU, was, considering the position of
things, decidedly peremptory :
' Sir van Ginkel, Lt.-General of the Cavalry of the United
Netherlands, in the service of his Highness, the Prince of Orange,
etc. ' We have taken up our quarters in the house of Sir Hendrie
Waldron, which quarters we desire shall be kept open as long as
the troops of His Highness shall remain in this town or neighbour
hood ; we have also left in the care of the aforesaid Sr Hendries
Waldron two black horses, and likewise the gray mare, which he
shall keep for us.
' Given at Columpton the T7T November, 1688.
' Bar de Real de Ginkel.'
A charming echo from the past sounds in a very different
epistle — a love-letter from Sir WUliam Walrond to a Mistress
Courtenay. The letter is written on a sheet of paper covered with
gold-leaf and bordered with elaborate designs. The case belonging
to it is embroidered in fine crewel-work in (more or less) natural
colours, representing figures, scenery, and a house in the back
ground, and it suggests the needles of Little Gidding.
307 u 2

Devon [ch. xiii
' Honoured Lady,
' The happiness I late enjoy'd by the fruition of your sweete
society gives an incentive to mee to let you knowe how deep you
are percuUest* in my brest, though their injurious feare [youth's
usual concomitant] obscured those larger narratives of my most
intensive love and really devoted service . . .' twas my present fate
then to be lesse expressive when I most admir'de these eminent
perfections which both art & nature have adorn'd you with and as
being doubtful of obtaining what I heartUy desired remained your
captive but in confidence of your candid disposition am now your
humble petitioner to bee so far happified as to be deemed your
honouring servant. Let then, I beseech you (worthy, lady) this
poor and unpolished character of my due respects and firm affec
tions achieve the happiness of kissing your fairest hands and you
shall thereby engage at present and in future
' Your most honouring
* friende and servant,
* Anderdon this 27th of October, 1659.' ' WlLL WALROND.
Pynes stands in the Exe VaUey, just within three mUes of Exeter
Cathedral. It is of red brick with white dressings, and has many
high narrow windows. A view has been put forward that the
politics of country gentlemen in the early part of the eighteenth
century may always be traced by their trees ; those who were in
favour of WUliam III set lime-avenues, whUe Jacobites planted
Scotch firs. There is a tradition in the famUy that, whUe the
Northcotes were for the Prince of Orange, the Staffords were for
King James, but it seems quite as likely that political significance
was not always the chief point in planting trees. In any case, there
are many Scotch firs, and a lime-avenue (peculiarly in keeping
with the style of the house) is shown by prints to have led far over
the hUl to Upton Pyne, but is now, alas ! represented only by one
or two aged survivors.
The manor belonged to the famUy of Pyne in the reign
of Henry I, and after many years was brought by an heiress to
* Portcullised. 308

. . ~ • •»-

PYNES, NEAR EXETER

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
the Larders. From this famUy, after another interval, it passed
by marriage to the Coplestones, of whom it was bought by Hugh
Stafford. The Staffords, or, as the name originaUy was, Stowfords,
migrated from Stowford in Dolton near Torrington, soon after
the Restoration. Hugh Stafford, born in 1674, was very keenly
interested in the subject of apple-growing and cider. He wrote a
'Dissertation' on the subject, and especiaUy on a certain apple
caUed the Royal WUding, from which it had just been discovered
(about 1710) a very superior kind of cider could be produced.
Unfortunately, Lord Bute's cider-tax so greatly discouraged the
manufacture that after it had been imposed farmers only made
enough for their own use and their labourers', and were not very
critical as to the quality. In consequence, the choicest kinds of
fruit were neglected, and both the Royal WUding and the White
Sour of the South Hams, another much-prized apple, are no longer
to be found.
The daughter and heiress of Mr Stafford married her neigh
bour,. Sir Henry Northcote. The Northcotes have been settled
in Devonshire since the reign of Henry I, when Galfridus de
Northcote held the lands of Northcote at East Down, near
Barnstaple, and in the middle of the sixteenth century Walter
Northcote was living at Uton, in the parish of Crediton. In
this neighbourhood his descendants remained until Sir Henry's
marriage, when they came to Pynes.
John Northcote was one of the Devonshire justices who attended
Quarter Sessions during the later part of the reign of Elizabeth,
and he lived tiU within ten years of the outbreak of CivU War.
From his epitaph, it appears that he was tried by the Star
Chamber ; the verse has been translated as foUows :
' To him the Queen's Commission in his youth
Trusted the scales of Justice and of Truth.
Fair was the balance held, and pure his fame,
Though by Star Chamber tried, as gold by flame.'
Nothing is known of the trial, not even the charge, but it is
pretty certain that, in common with several other justices at
309

Devon [ch. xiii
that time, he had showed ' a want of " forwardness " ' in collect
ing ship-money.
Another justice, Walter Yonge, notes in his diary that in 1627
letters were sent to the justices of Devon, ' to the Mayors of port-
towns, Exeter, Dartmouth, Totnes, Plymouth, and Barnstaple,
bidding the towns provide ships, and the country, men and
victuals.' Later, letters were sent demanding that a large sum
should be raised ' to set a fleet at sea ... we having but six or
seven days to raise the money, and to return it to London ; but
our county refused to meddle therein.' John Northcote was Sheriff
just at this time, and was most probably held responsible for the
intractability of his countrymen.
Sir John Northcote, his son, was born in 1599, and became a
Member of Parliament, he and Sir Edmund Fowel representing
Ashburton in the Long Parliament. During his first few weeks
in the House of Commons, Sir John took notes of the proceedings,
and the smaU brown volume in which they are written stiU
exists. The notes have been transcribed by Mr A. H. A. HamUton,
and are very interesting, for they record threatenings of the
great storm so soon to burst over England. The pages open with
' Proceedings against the Earl of Strafford. Mr Pimm's [Pym]
Report ' — which report prefaces terrible accusations with a
personal touch : ' Long known the person charged by acts of
friendship.' Many letters, reports, and commissions, refer to Jesuits and
priests, and often the Queen's name appears intervening on their
behalf ; laws against them were more and more relaxed, ' signify
ing his Majesty's pleasure at instance of her Majesty,' tiU the
Commons became uneasy, and a ' petition ' was framed to the
King, to remind him of his ' protestation ' at the opening of his
reign, that the Queen ' should not intermeddle with matters of
religion.' The long and stubborn opposition to the exaction of ship-
money, ' Voted Ulegal and entered nullo contradicente,' is given.
The Judges who had declared the tax to be legal were supposed
to have been tampered with by Strafford, and Mr Hyde (afterwards
310

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
Lord Clarendon) suggested that they should be interviewed as to
what had passed. The following is a bit of the debate as it was
taken down ; as Sir John did not write shorthand, he was naturaUy
able to give only the gist of each speech :
' Mr Hide. That some of the house be sent to know what
solicitations [had been made].
*******
' Sir Franc. Seymour. That proof be first made.
' Mr Pelham. That it wUl amount to high treason and to
prepare present charge.
' Sir Jo. Wray. The posy of his grandfather, Just and True.
Sir Ed. Cook [said] whoever shah go about to overthrow Common
Law, the Common Law wiU overthrow him. His motion, Currat
Lex. ' Sergeant Evers. To have first the votes of the Lords.
' Sir P. Stapylton. That Mr Peard be sent to Judge Jones.
' Sir Jo. Strangwayes. That Justice Crook be sent to.
' Lord Fawkland. That they be sent to aU at once.
' Sir Nevill Poole. That Lord Keeper be forth coming.
' Mr Controller. That respect be had to Judges. That none
be urged to be accuser, but concluded that ah be sent to.
' Sir Jo. Culpeper. Of twelve one was a Judas. To send to all
the Judges that gave the Judgment, and to send immediately.'
Another debate shows the King and Parliament for the moment
on unusuaUy good terms. Sir Benjamin Rudyard said : ' God
blest his Majesty with hopeful and fruitful progeny. To put in
mind to provide for them. The first prince born amongst us this
ioo years. Queen's good affection to Parliament. Concern her
Majesty to uphold the glory and government of this kingdom.'
When the crisis came, most of the Devonshire members
seem to have supported the Parliament, guided, no doubt, to
some extent by the wonderful influence of ' King ' Pym. Pym
sat for Tavistock ; ' his coUeague was a son of the House of Russell.
WUliam Strode sat for Buralston, and his elder brother for Plymp
ton.' Northcote was slightly connected with the Strodes, and
when war broke out he followed the Earl of Bedford. In Septem-
3"

Devon [ch. xiii
ber, 1642, Sir Hugh Pollard wrote to the Earl of Bath : ' The Earl
of Bedford is now at Taunton, in want of men and money ; he
hath sent to his friends Chudleigh, Bampfield, and Northcote,
for a supply of both, whose oratory cannot get one trained man
to move, nor above eight volunteers.'
The letter receives a curious comment from the succeeding ones.
At that very time the Earl of Bedford was issuing orders for the
arrest of Sir Hugh PoUard, and four days afterwards Sir George
Chudleigh and Sir John Northcote wrote to Major Carey, express
ing their approval of Captain Dewett's conduct in capturing the
Earl of Bath. Sir John was now at the head of a regiment of
twelve hundred men, and seems to have held the command
during the first two years of the CivU War. He took an active
part in the defence of Plymouth, and in i643]'at Modbury a
victory was won by the forces under Lieutenant-General Ruthen,
Sir J. Bampfield, and Sir John Northcote, over Lord Hopton's
troops. Many of the Parliamentarian gentlemen were anxious for
peace, and just after this skirmish tried to arrange an ' associa
tion ' or neutrality between Devon and CornwaU ; but the idea
was quashed by Commissioners from London. A few months later
Clarendon mentions that Sir John was sent by the Earl of Bedford,
the Parliamentary General of Horse, to negotiate a treaty with
the Marquis of Hertford.
Sir John was elected to the Parliament of 1656, and showed
himself a constant lover of liberty. He inveighed against the
powers granted to CromweU's House of Peers. ' It was minded
you . . . that no law was rightly made but by King, Lords, and
Commons. I am sure this law was not made so.' He lays stress on
the point that the old House of Lords ventured aU that they had,
and protests against their being superseded by new-comers. ' That
they should be excluded and these advanced is not just nor
reasonable.' A little later he spoke again on the same subject :
' We thought in the long Parliament we might restrain the in
ordinate power of the Chief Magistrate. That was the ground of
our quarrel in the late war ; but ... it seems we cannot bound these
Lords' exorbitant powers. ... I did fight against an exorbitant
312

ch. xiii] Castles and Country-Houses
power in the King's hands, and / will fight against it again to the
last drop of blood, if his Highness command me, whenever such
power shaU be set up, if it be to-morrow, and in whatever hands
it be.' John Northcote was one of the two Knights of the Shire for
Devon in the Convention Parliament, the other being the Lord
General Monk. The Restoration was gladly welcomed by him,
but he ' spoke repeatedly in favour of pardon and amnesty, and
when necessity arose, he seems to have confronted the triumphant
Cavaliers in debate as boldly as he had met them, or their fathers,
in the field.' This was the last Parliament that Sir John sat in.
A little later he turned to the West, and spent most of the days
that were left him in Devon.

313

List of Authorities Consulted

Baring-Gould (S.) : A Book of Dartmoor.
Baring-Gould (S.) • A Book of the West.
Baring-Gould (S.) : Devonshire Characters and Strange Events.
•Blount (T.) : Tenures of Lands.
Blundell's Worthies, edited by M. L. Banks.
Bray (Mrs.) : The Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy.
Britton (J.) and Brayley (E. W.) : Beauties of England and Wales. ,
Britton (J.) and Brayley (E. W.) : Devonshire Illustrated.
"Camden (W.) : Britannia.
Carew (Bampfylde Moore) : Life and Adventures.
Carewe (Sir Peter), Dyscourse and Dyscoverye of the Lyffe of, . . .
collected by John Vowell, als. Hoker, of the Citie of Excester, gent.
Carrington (N. T.) : Dartmoor.
Chanter (J. F.) : A History of the Parishes of Lynton and Countisbury.
Chanter (J. R.) : Lundy Island.
Chichester (Sir A. P.) : History of the Chichester Family.
- Cleaveland (E.) : Genealogical History of the Noble and Illustrious
Family of Courtenay.
-Clermont (Lord) : History of the Fortescues.
Cotton (R. W.) : Barnstaple and the Northern Part of Devonshire
during the Great Civil War.
Cotton (W.) : An Elizabethan Guild of the City of Exeter.
Cotton (W.) and Woollcombe (H.) : Gleanings from Municipal and
Cathedral Records of Exeter.
Dartmoor Preservation Association's Transactions.
Defoe (D.) : A Tour through the Whole Island of Great Britain.
Devon Notes and Queries.
Devonshire Association's Transactions.
Edmonds (Chancellor) : Exeter Cathedral.
Everitt (W.) : Devonshire Scenery.
Fiennes (Celia) : Through England on a Side-Saddle in the Time of
William and Mary.
Fox (S. P.) : Kingsbridge and its Surroundings.
Freeman (E. A.) : Exeter.
Friend (H.) : Bygone Devonshire.
Froude (J. A.) : History of England.
Fuller (T., d.d.) • Worthies of England. 315

Devon
Gilpin (W.) : Observations on the Western Parts of England.
Harding (W.) : History of Tiverton.
Harris (J. H.) : My Devonshire Book.
Izacke (R. and S.) : Remarkable Antiquities of the City of Exeter.
Kelly's Directory of Devonshire.
King (R. J.) : Sketches and Studies.
Kingsley (C.) : Miscellanies.
Leland(J.): Itinerary.
Lysons (D. and S.) : Magna Britannia.
Mozley (T.) : Henry VII, Prince Arthur, and Cardinal Morton.
Murray's Handbook of Devon.
Norway (A. H.) : Highways and Byways in Devon and Cornwall.
Oliver (G., d.d.) : History of the City of Exeter.
Oliver (G., d.d.) : Lives of the Bishops of Exeter.
Oliver (G., d.d). : Monasticon Dicecesis Exoniensis.
Page (J. L. W.) : An Exploration of Exmoor.
Peeke (Richard, of Tavistock) : His Three to One.
Pollock (Sir F.) : Dartmoor and the Walkham. Eng. Illus. Mag., 1884.
Polwhele (R.) : History of Devonshire.
Pridham (T. L.) : Devonshire Celebrities.
Prince (J.) : Worthies of Devon.
^—Ralegh (Sir Walter) : Life, by Martin Hume.
Rawle (E. J.) : Annals of the Ancient Royal Forest of Exmoor.
Rawle (E. J.) : The Doones of Exmoor.
Risdon (T.) : Chorographical Description or Survey of the County of
Devon.
Rogers (W. H. H.) : Memorials of the West.
Rowe (C. R.) : South Devon.
Rowe (J. Brooking) : History of the Borough of Plympton Erie.
Rowe (S.) : A Perambulation of Dartmoor.
Snell (F. J.) : Memorials of Old Devonshire.
— Sprigg (J.) : Anglia Rediviva ; or, England's Recovery.
Vowell (J., alias Hoker) : Antique Description of the City of Exeter.
— -Walker (J.) : Sufferings of the Clergy.
Walpole's Universal British Traveller.
Watkins (J.) : An Essay towards a History of Bideford.
Westcote (T.) : View of Devonshire in MDCXXX.
Whitfeld (H. F.) : Plymouth and Devonport in Times of War and Peace.
Widecombe Tracts, 1638.
 Wiffen (J. H.) : Historical Memoirs of the House of Russell.
Worth (R. N.) : History of Plymouth.
Worth (R. N.) : The West-Country Garland.

316

Ind

ex

Acland, Lady Harriot, 29 ; Sir John,
29 ; Sir Thomas, 270
Adams, Will, 112
Adelaide, Queen, and Honiton lace, 49
Affeton Castle, 238
Ameredith, William, 153
American prisoners at Princetown, 85
Apsley, Colonel, 211 ; Sir Allen, 227
Arms and motto granted to Exeter, 9
Arlington Court, 252
Arundell, Colonel, 46
Ashburton, 121
Ashe, 68
Athelstan, monastery founded at
Exeter by, 3
Atterbury, Bishop, anecdote of, 97
Audley, Lord, 128
Avant, Philip, 113
Axminster, 69
Axmouth, 66
Babb, John, 257 ; Ursula, 258
Ballads, poems, and songs, local, 69,
70, 83, 87, 99, 104, 106, 109, 117,
123, 124, 125, 134, 141, 149, 170,
179, 192, 193, 195, 201, 206, 208,
218, 239, 247, 251, 261, 271, 283
Bampfylde, Bampfield, Hugh, 24 ;
John, 32, 33, 291 ; Sir John Cople
stone, 32
Bampton, 13
Barker, Pentecost, 175
Barnstaple, 224
Barun, Walter, 269
Baunton, Robert de, 307 ; Simon de,
307
Bedford, Earls of, 80, 182
Beer, 65
Bellerophon in Plymouth Harbour, 177
Benet, Sir Henry, 148
Benson, Thomas, 249
Berkeley, Sir John, 12, 32, 90, 211
Berry Head, 113
Berrynarbour, 249
Berry Pomeroy, 285
Bickleigh, 24
Bideford, 201

Bigbury Bay, unknown lady drowned
in, 146
Blaekaller, John, 8
Blackhall, Christopher, 131
Blackmore, R. D., 20
Blackpool, 151
Blake, Martin, 224, 225
Blowing-house on Dartmoor, 75
Blundell, Peter, 19
BlundelPs School, Tiverton, 19
Bohun, Margaret, 275
Bolt Head and Bolt Tail, 146
Boniface, 35
Bonville, Cicely, 57 ; Nicholas, 69
Botreaux, William de, 287
Boulay, Hamelin de, 307
Bradfield, 305
Bradninch, 29
Branscombe, 64
Braunton Burrows, 221
Bray, Mrs., on Wistman's Wood, 77
Brendon, 262
Brent Tor, 71, 198
Brioniis, Baldwin de, 297, 298
Briwere, Alicia de, 107 ; William, Lord,
107
Bromehall, Walter de, 91
Brown, Rev. Charles, 94
Browne, Richard, 161 ; William, 82, 194
Brudenell, Mr, 31
Buckfast Abbey, 122
Buckfastleigh, 122
Buck-horn, 115
Buckland Abbey, 195
Budleigh, East, 60
Budleigh Salterton, 60
Buller, Charles, 40 ; John Francis, 40
Bulmer, Sir Beavis, 251
Burgoyne, General, 30
Burke, Edmund, 146
Burleigh, Lord, 161
Bussell, Nicholas, 98
Cabal Government, the, 101
Cable, Richard, 291
Calder, John, 149
Canonteign, 98, 99

317

Devon

Carew, Sir Alexander, 173 ; Bampfylde
Moore, 24 ; Dorothea, 17 ; Sir Gawen,
38. 52. 53. 54; George, 52, 108;
John, 52 ; Sir Peter, 38, 52, 53, 54,
152, 282, 301 ; Sir William, 53
Carew arms, 52
Carey, Cary, Colonel, 153 ; George, 142 ;
Sir Henry, 140 ; John, 215 ; Sir
Robert, 21 6-
Castle Hill, 240
Cecil, Sir Edward, 185 ; Sir Robert,
135 ; Sir William, 135
Cergeaux, John, 128
Chagford, 90
Challacombe, 285
Champernowne, Sir Arthur, 108, 128 ;
Henry, 62, 128 ; Richard, 142 ;
William, 291
Chapman Burrows, 266
Chappie, Will, 237
Charles II at Plymouth, 175
Charm for staunching of blood, 150
Chesney, Sir Charles, 20 ; George, 20
Chichester, Sir Arthur, 252 ; John, Sir
John, 252 ; Robert de. Sir Robert,
252, 254
Choak-a-bone, tomb of, 67
Christmas custom at Dean Prior, 124
Christow, 97
Chudleigh, 100
Chudleigh, Sir George, 312
Churchill, Sir Winston, 68
Cider, Lord Bute's tax on, 50
Civil War, the, 11, 12, 22, 32, 50, 58,
90, 98, 139, 173, 194, 207, 226, 229,
273. 289, 312
Clements, Captain, 115
Clermont, Lady, anecdote of, 241
Clifford, Anthony, 100; Sir Thomas, no
CloveUy, 213
Clyst River, 45
Cocke, Captain, 162
Coffin, Richard, 212 ; Sir William, 212
Colcombe, 68
Coleridge, Lord, on Ottery, 57
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 58
Colyton, 67
Combe Martin, 250
Common rights on Dartmoor, 79
Compton Castle, 294
Comyn, Peter, 307
Convicts at Lundy, 249
Cornish, the, their ignorance of Eng
lish, 8
Cosway, Richard, 16

Countess Weir, 7
Countisbury, 260, 261
Courtenay, Lord, 54 ; Edward, 280 ;
Lady Elizabeth, 281 ; Henry, 279 ;
Hugh, Sir Hugh, 275, 276 ; Lady
Matilda, 276 ; Sir Peter, 276, 278 ;
Sir Philip, 272, 275, 276 ; Robert,
15 ; William, 153, 277
Coven, John, 95
Cranbrook Castle, 92
Crediton, 34
Creedy River, 34
Crockern Tor, 78
Crofts, Sir James, 135
Cromwell, Thomas, 80
Crosses on Dartmoor, 80
Cullen, Nicholas, 248
Cullompton, 27
Culm River, 27
Damarel family, 45
Damarel, Sir John, 300
Dancing Tree at Moreton, 92
Danes, the, in Devon, 104 ; at Exeter,
3 ; at Northam, 210
Daniel, Tom, 17
Dart, the, 19
Dartington Hall, 127
Dartmoor Forest, 7 1
Dartmouth, 136
Davis, Captain John, n, 132 ; Mr, 98
De Albemarle family, 45
Dean Prior, 123
Deane, Captain, 273
Defoe, Daniel, on Honiton cider, 50;
on trade of Exeter, 10
Dennis, Sir Thomas, 153
Devon, earldom of, restored, 281
Devonport, 157
' Devonshire Boys' Courage,' 104
Dickens's, Charles, description of Clo
veUy, 214
Digby, Colonel. 173, 227, 229
Dittisham, 133
Dodbrooke, 142
Doddescomba, Radulphus de, 307
Doddiscombsleigh, 97
Dog Acre Orchard, Axmouth, 67
Dog buried with parson of Axmouth, 66
Dogs as fish-catchers, 132
Doone Valley, the, 264
Downes, 39
Drake, Sir Francis, 11, 108, 134, 165,
185, 195, 204 ; Sir John, 68
Drewsteignton, 91

318

Index

Drizzlecombe, 75
Druidical remains, supposed, 76
Duel between Lord Mohun and Duke
of Hamilton, 52
Dunsford, 97
Dynant, Oliver de, 217
Earls, William, 95
Easter customs on Exmoor, 268
Edgecombe, Betty, 150
Edward the Confessor in Exeter, 3
Edwards, Susanna, 209
Elford, Walter, 82
Eliot, Sir John, 173
Endsleigh, 199
Epigram on Sir Francis Drake, 171
. Epitaphs, 16, 36, 49,66, 203, 250, 293, 309
Escot, in Ottery, 55
Exe, the, 13
Exeter, 1 ; arms and motto, 9
Exeter Canal, 8
Exeter Cathedral, 5
Exeter Guildhall, 9
Exmoor, 267
Exmoor ponies, 270
Exmouth, 45
Exmouth, Lord, 99
Fairfax, Sir Thomas, 12, 23, 58, 98,
139, 229, 272, 274, 291
Falaise, William de, 128
Fersen, Count, and Lady Clermont, 241
Fiennes, Miss Celia, 41, 246
Fingle Bridge, 91
Fingle Gorge, 92
Fires at Tiverton, 20, 2 1
Fitz, John, 190
Fitz-Alan, Henry, 142
Fitzford House, 190, 194
Fitz- John, Matthew, 142
Fitz-Roald, Alan, 142
Floyer's Hayes, 298
Folk-lore, 254
Forde House, 103
' Forests of the Dartmoors,* 87
Fortescue, Sir Edward, 149, 240 ; Sir
Faithful, 240 ; Sir Henry, 240 ;
John, Sir John, 6, 240, 241 ; Sir
Nicholas, 240
Fortibus, Isabel, 7
Fossway, the, at Honiton, 48
Fowell, Sir Edmund, 310 ; William, 291
Freeman, Professor, description of
Exeter, 1,12; on Exeter's privileges,
7 ," on Roman conquest of Exeter, 2

French prisoners at Crediton, 39 ; at
Princetown, 85
Fulford, Sir Baldwin, 93
Fuller, Thomas, on Honiton lace, 49
Garret, Captain, 167
Gates, General, 31
Gaveston, Piers, 80
Gibbs, Hon. Herbert, 127 ; John, 126 ;
Thomas, 126, 127 ; William, 126, 127
Gilbert, Adrian, 251 ; Sir Humphrey,
n, 61, 133, 168, 251, 295
Giles, Sir Edward, 125 ; John, 125
Ginkel, General de, 307
Glanvill, Eulalia, 192 ; Judge, 191
Godolphin, Sidney, 90
Gorges, Sir Ferdinando, 172
Goring, Lord, 227
Grandisson, Beatrice de, 57 ; Bishop
John de, 5, 56 ; Sir Otho, $7
Great Fulford, 93
Greenaway, 133
Greenway, Joan, 19 ; John, 16, 19
Grenville, Sir Bevil, 207 ; John, 207 ;
Richard de, Sir Richard, 174, 191,
194, 195, 203, 204, 205, 207, 208,
227 ; Thomas, 203
Grimspound, 74, 75
Grove, — , 12
Groves, Hugh, 240
Guildhall, Exeter, 9
Guilds in Exeter, 9, 10
Gurney, Sir Richard, 202
Haccombe, 108
Hals, John, 127
Hameldon Barrow, 74
Hamilton, Duke of, 52 ; Sir Robert, 51
Hammett, John, 94
Hammond, Colonel, 274
Hancock, William, 252
Harnage, Major, 30
Harper, Nicholas, 250
Harrys, Christopher, 195
Hartland, 217
Hartland Abbey, 217
Hartland Point, 216
Harvest custom in Devon, 5 1
Hastings, Lord, 29 ; Simon, 107
Hatherleigh, 236
Haughton, Captain, 139
Hawkins, Sir John, 63, 162, 171 ; Sir
Richard, 164; William, 162, 165
Hawley, John, 137
Hayes Barton, 60

319

Devon

Heddon's Mouth, 255
Hele, John, 195
Hembury Fort, 48
Henrietta, Princess, born at Exeter, 1 1
Henrietta Maria, Queen, at Exeter, 1 1
Herrick, William, 123
Hexter, Ann, 95
Hillersdon, John de, 27
Holborne, Colonel, 299
Hole, Robert, 150
Holland, John, 128 ; Lord, 173
Holne, 121
Holt, Mr., 292
Holy wells at Hatherleigh, 236
Honiton, 47
Honiton lace, 49
Hooker, Mr, 237
Hopton, Ralph, Lord, 173, 229, 230,
231
Hounds as tin-carriers, 78
How, John, 95
Howard, Sir Charles, 191 ; Lady, 190
Huguenots at Plymouth, 175
Hungerford, Lord, 29
Hunters' Lodge Inn, 55
Hut-dwellings on Dartmoor, 74
Ilfracombe, 244
Izacke's description of Exeter, 2
Jago, Dr, 191
Jewel, Bishop John, 249
Judhael de Totnes, 130, 226, 228, 295
Kennaway, Sir John, 55
Kenwith Castle, 2 to
Key, John, 291
Killerton, 29
Kilworthy House, 193
King, R. J., on Dartmoor, 71
Kingsbridge, 141
Kingsley, Charles, 121 ; description of
CloveUy, 214
Kingskerswell, no
King's Nympton, 239
Kingsteignton, 103
Kingswear, 140
Lake, Thomas, 95
Landslip at Lyme, 67
Lane, John, 28, 150; Richard, 150;
Thomasine, 28 ; Mr, 150
Lechlade, Walter de, 56
Leofric, first Bishop of Exeter, 3
Ley, W., 95

Library, ancient, in Exeter Cathedral,
4 ; in Crediton Church, 37
Lloyd, Temperance, 209
Lomene, William de, 307
Longstone, the, 266
Ludlow, Sir Henry, 292
Lundy Island, 245
Lyde, Robert, 42 ;
Lydford, 82
Lydford Gorge, 84
Lynmouth, 259, 260
Lynton, 259
Marwood, Dr, 68
Mary Tavy, 196
Massie, General, 22, 23
Merivale, Samuel, 175
Mohun, Lord, 52 ; John, 298 ; Sir
Reginald, 69 ; Richard de, 107 ; Sir
William, 69
Mohun arms, 52
Moles, Mules, Isabella de, 287 ;
Nicholas de, 1 10
Molesworth, Colonel, 292
Monk, George, Duke of Albemarle, 33,
69, 232 ; Sir Thomas, 232
Moore, Major, 24
Moretonhampstead, 92
Morisco, Sir William de, 247
Morton, Cardinal, 29
Morwellham, 199
Morwell Rocks, 199
Mules, see Moles
Mozley, Rev. — ,28
National Debt, origin of the, 101
Newcomb, John, 8
Newenham Abbey, 69
Newton, John, 291
Newton Abbot, 102
Newton St Cyres, 41
Norden, John, 8
North, Lord, and cider tax, 51
Northcote, Galfridus de, 309; Sir
Henry, 309 ; John, Sir John, 122,
309, 310, 312, 313 ; Walter, 309
Oare, 265
Ogham inscription at Tavistock, 180
Okehampton Castle, 296
Okey, Colonel, 98
Oldbarrow Camp, 261
Orange, William, Prince of, 113
Osey, Thomas, 37
Otter River, 47

320

Index

Otterton, 60
Ottery Mohun, 52
Ottery St Mary, 5 5
Ottery St Mary Church, 56
Oxenham, William, 238
Paignton, no
Parker, William, 162
Parracombe, 254
Paynel, Fulke, 306
Peeke, Captain Richard, 185
Penruddocke, — , 12 ; Colonel, 240
Peryam, Wiliiam, 36
| Peter Tavy, 1 96
* Peverell, Hugh, 27
Pickering, Colonel, 58
Pilchard fishery, 161
Pilgrim Fathers, the, 171
'.,., Pirn, John, 184
::: Pinhoe, Danish fight at, 3
Pixies, the, 86
Pixies' House, 82
Pixies' Parlour, 100
Plumleigh, Captain, 248
Plymouth, 155
Plympton, 177
Plymtree, 28
Pole, Alice de la, 295
Polglas, William, 128
Pollard, Hugh, Sir Hugh, 139, 211, 239,
269, 312 ; Sir Lewis, 291 ; Sir
Richard, 296
Pollock, Sir F., on Dartmoor, 71
Poltimore, 31
Poltimore, Lord, 32
Pomeroy, Pomerai, Sir Edward, 288 ;
Henry de, 182, 285, 287 ; Ralph de
la, 287 ; Sir Thomas, 288
Porter, Endymion, 124
;:,;Portledge, 212
JJJPotheridge, 232
Potter, Barnabas, 126
Powderham Castle, 272
Prawle Point, 145
Prayer-Book riot, 38
Priests' hole, a, 299
Princetown, 84
Pynes, 308
Pynho, Sir Robert de, 148
Quivil, Bishop Peter, 5
jf Raleigh, John de, 252 ; Sir Walter, 60,
g 80, 128, 133, 153, 203, 204
Rame, Thomas, 7

Rattenbury, Jack, 65
Rattery, 126
Reay, Samuel, 17
Redvers, Baldwin de, 4, 15 ; Mary de,
15 ; Richard de, 14 ; William de, 14
Reidesel, Baroness of, 30
Revel, the, at Kingsteignton, 103
Reynell, Lieut., 30
Richmond, Henry, Earl of, 7 ; Mar
garet, Countess of, 231
Robin, Mr, 11
Rodge, James, 49
Roope, Mr, 153
Rougemont Castle, Exeter, 4
Rugglestone, the, 76
Russell, Lord, 9 ; Rev. John, 20, 236 ;
John, 182 ; William Lord, 184
St. Leger, Sir John, 7, 152
Salcombe, 144
Salkeld, Captain, 248
Saltram, 177
Sampford ghost, the, 26
Sampford Peveril, 26
Sandridge, 132
Schorne, Sir John, 145
Screen at Plymtree, 28
Seaton, 66
Sexton, Mary, 203
Seymour, Colonel, 153, 211, 289, 290;
Edward, Sir Edward, 116, 139, 286,
288, 289, 292, 293
Shapcote, Colonel, 46
Shebbeare, Dr, 209
Sheeps Tor, 8 1
Shute, 69
Sidmouth, 64
Silver mines at Combe Martin, 251
Simon, son of Roger, 307
Slapton Sands and Lea, 151
Slee, George, 16
Smuggling, 65
Snell, John, 149
Snowdon, Thomas, 95
Soffewill, Walter de, 307
South Molton, 239
South Tawton, 237
Speare, William, 94
Splatt, Hannah, 96
Sprigg, Joshua, 58
Stafford, Hugh, 309
Stanhope, Anne, 288
Stannary Parliament, 78
Stapleton, Bishop Walter de, 5
Starcross, 42

321

X

Devon

Starre, John, 66
Start Point, 151
Stevenstone, 231
Stonerows, etc., on Dartmoor, 74
Stonehouse, 157
Stonehouse, Joel de, 157
Storm at Widecombe, 80
' Stout Cripple of Cornwall, the,' 283
Strangwich, George, 192
Strode, William, 311
Stucley, Stukeley, Sir George, 238 ;
Sir Lewis, 218 ; Thomas, 238
Suffolk, Duke of, 54
Sully, Sir John, 36
Superstitions on Dartmoor, 85 ; at
Whitstone, 96
Sutton, James, 94
Sydenham, 298
Talbot, Sir Gilbert, 22
Tavistock, 179
Tavy Cleave, 197
Tawstock, 228
Teign, the, 89
Teignmouth, 103
Tenure, curious, 269
Thackeray, W. M., at Ottery, 59
Thomas, Grace, 210
Thurlestone, 147
Tiddecomba, Walter de, 307
Tin trade on Dartmoor, 77
Tiverton, 14
Toby, Tryphena, 141
Tongue token, a, 305
Topsham, 41
Tor Abbey, 107
Torbay, 106
Tor Cross, 151
Torner, Major, 139
Torquay, 106
Torridge Castle, 231
Torrington, 228
Totnes, 129
Tourville, Admiral de, 104
Tracy, William de, 22 1
Trelawny, Rebecca, 40
Tremayne, Andrew, 301, 302, 303 ;
Edmund, 302, 305 ; Nicholas, 301,
302, 303 ; Thomas, 300
Trembles, Mary, 209
Trenchard, Isabella, 300 ; Sir Thomas,
182
Tuckers' Hall, Exeter, 10
Tuckfield, John, 36

Ugbrooke, 100
Valletort, 'Reginald de, .160
Valley of Rocks, 258
Vane, Sir Henry, 293
Ven ton. House, 126
Vere, Sir Francis, 135
Wade, Major, 257
Wagstaff, Sir Joseph, 240
Waldron, John, 16, 19 ; Richard, 19.
See also Walrond
Wallabrook, the, 89
Waller, Sir Hardress, 225 ; Sir William,
290
Walrond, Walerond, Sir Henry, 307 ;
Richard, 306 ; Sir William, 307. See
also Waldron
Walsingham, Sir Francis, 135
Warbeck, Perkin, at Exeter, 7
Wardlaw, Colonel, 174
Warelwast, Bishop William, 5
Weare, Colonel, 22
Webber, Will, 116
Wesley, Samuel, 19
Westward Ho, 212
Whiddon, John, 147
White ale, 143
White bird of the Oxenhams, 237
Whitstone, 93
Whittle, John, 113
Wichehalse, Hugh, 257 ; John, 257,
258 ; Mary, 258 ; Nicholas, 257
Widecombe-in-the-Moor, 80
Wilford, Sir William, 162
William the Conqueror besieges Exeter,
4
Wise, Arabella, 305 ; Sir Edward, 299,
305
Wistman's Wood, 76
Witchcraft, 209, 268
Witches' Stone near Honiton, 55
Woggan, Captain, 98
Wolcot, Dr John, 143
Woodbury Castle, 45
Woolacomb Tracey, 221
Worthy, Geoffrey de la, 287
Wrey, Sir Bourchier, 228, 245
Wright, Jacob, 96
Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 54
Wynfrith, St, 35
Yonge, Walter, Sir Walter, 55, 310
Young, William, 248

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