'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.'
'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.'
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 company 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 confident 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,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 received 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 afterwards two toasts are drunk—one in water, to 'The pious memory of Sir Francis Drake,' and the other in wine—'May the descendants of him who brought us water never want wine.'
Plymouth townsfolk had every reason to be glad when thePelicansailed 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 Humphrey Gilbert, are some lines by Sir Francis which are very expressive of the views that seem to have guided his life. The book, whose aim must have been to encourage the idea of settling in thenew colony, is called 'A true Report of the late Discoveries and Possession taken in the Right of the Crowne of Englande, of theNew foundLandes.' 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 unfoldeThe path to fame, the proofe of zeale, and way to purchase golde.'
'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 unfoldeThe path to fame, the proofe of zeale, and way to purchase golde.'
Drake's audacity was never more amazing than in the expedition 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 JohnTo 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 haveTo wait upon her a Lutheran slave.'
'My brother Don JohnTo 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 haveTo 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-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, Portugall,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 SpaineThat shott well in a gunn-a—Don Pedro bright, as good a knightAs 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 strongThe 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 DrakeDid 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 sauceAs they were, I know when-a.'
'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, Portugall,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 SpaineThat shott well in a gunn-a—Don Pedro bright, as good a knightAs 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 strongThe 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 DrakeDid 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 sauceAs they were, I know when-a.'
Drake's Island, Plymouth Sound
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 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 forgetHis fellow Traveller.'
'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 forgetHis 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 extortionate 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 Southampton they were forced to put into Dartmouth for repairs, and were afterwards obliged to stop at Plymouth, where theSpeedwellwas 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,without any useful charter from a corporate body, the passengers in theMayflowerset 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 expedition. 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."' Pennington, 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.'
'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 1, 1642, Royalists and Parliamentarians '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 Dartmouth, 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.' Aninvitation to surrender on lenient conditions made the townspeople 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, followed 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 verydetermined 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,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 engagements 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 Regiment, "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 witnessed 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 neighbours as the victorious ship and her prizes, with the Jack flyingtriumphantly 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 halfway. 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 weathercock. 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 theBellerophonactually lay in Plymouth Harbour, to the intense excitement of the townspeople, 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 theparish of Plympton St Maurice and the little town of Plympton Erle. 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 Erle, 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 presented the town with his own portrait painted by himself. The picture was hung in the Guildhall, and Sir Joshua asked the Recorder 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.'
Brent Tor. From Lvdford Moors
'Tavy creeps uponThe 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 borneTo take the kind air of a wistful mornNear Tavy's voiceful stream (to whom I oweMore strains than from my pipe can ever flow).Here have I heard a sweet bird never lin[7]To chide the river for his clam'rous din;...So numberless the songsters are that singIn 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 skillHis 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 deepTo make him bracelets, or to mark his sheep.'W. Browne:Britannia's Pastorals.
'Tavy creeps uponThe 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 borneTo take the kind air of a wistful mornNear Tavy's voiceful stream (to whom I oweMore strains than from my pipe can ever flow).Here have I heard a sweet bird never lin[7]To chide the river for his clam'rous din;...So numberless the songsters are that singIn 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 skillHis 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 deepTo 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-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 relics 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 themselves near Tavistock, and tokens of them have been found in the neighbourhood in the shape of three stones bearing inscriptions—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 afaber, or smith. In Celtic organizations everytuatha, or tribe, had its chief smith.... Dobunii ... is the Latin for the genitive 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 Tavistock.'
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 discomfiture 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 andBelgic 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 Cornwall. 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 Bedford 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 battlemented 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, convenience, 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 frightful 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 StreetWould heave a stone a pound weight.'
'The blood which flowed down West StreetWould heave a stone a pound weight.'
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 coūty of Devonshyre wyth their Statutes also made at Crockeryntorre by the whole assēt and cōset 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 connection 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 happened that there was staying with Sir Thomas a young cousin lately returned from his travels, who combined great 'skill inforeign languages ... with his sprightly conversation and polite address.' The Archduke was enchanted to find someone better acquainted 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 protégé 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 deportment.'
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 himself delighted; and he soon had a chance for distinguishing himself in serious matters. In 1513 he accompanied the King in his campaign 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 himself, he succeeded in the effort.'
In 1517 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 Constable 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 promised 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 'lottedevery 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 Chambéry, 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 departure 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 unpleasant 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 appointedto 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 extraordinary 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.
Tavy Cleave
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 contemporary, 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 likeFor noble prowess to our Tav'stock Pike,—In whose renowned, never-dying nameLive England's honour and the Spaniard's shame.'
'Search whither can be found again the likeFor noble prowess to our Tav'stock Pike,—In whose renowned, never-dying nameLive 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 Iknow 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 Muskateers, spying me so busy about one of their Countreymen,'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 demanded 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 littleIsland 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 theSpaniardscalledEnglishMenGallinas(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? O 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 demanded, If I durst Fight against an other? I told them myheart 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 demanded 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,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,EnglishMan, 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 namesake, who flourished there, in 1638, our hero might be seen in an entirely new rôle, 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 SirAlan Percy, who died three years afterwards. There is a proverb—