'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 sirnaméd 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 sirnaméd 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 sirnaméd 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."'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.'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 downeUnto 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 heShould venture himself in such actions as they,To rob in such sort upon the hye-way.'
'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 sirnaméd 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 sirnaméd 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 sirnaméd 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."
'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.
'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 downeUnto 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 heShould venture himself in such actions as they,To rob in such sort upon the hye-way.'
Berry Pomeroy CastleBerry Pomeroy Castle
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 stretching 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 building Berry Pomeroy must have been. The outer walls 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 theConqueror. A hexagonal tower flanks the gateway on either side. Above it is the guard-room, in which two pillars support circular arches that are in a very perfect condition, and the grooves in the walls for the portcullis may easily be traced. It is usually reported that the Pomeroys' coat of arms is still 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 wall connects the gateway with a tower called St Margaret's Tower, of which merely the shell remains, smothered in overhanging ivy, brambles, long grass, and a tapestry of plants, and beneath the tower is a small, 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 buildings, 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 ceiling, gives an impression that the rooms are small. Over all is an uncomfortable sense of desertion, and the high empty windows, with stone mullions and square labels, somehow give a skull-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 itawakens an uneasy sensation that it is itself a ghost—the ghost of an unsatisfied ambition, the creation of many minds who planned and toiled, 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 usually 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 importance remain. Ralph de la Pomerai was so 'greatly assistant to William 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 rebellious noble, who must have been a terror to his weaker neighbours. Occasional glimpses 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 Isabella, daughter and one of the heirs of John de Moles, deceased, and marrying her against the king's will to William 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 Nevil: '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 EdwardPomeroy fell out with 'the Mayor of Totnes and his brethren'; several gentlemen arbitrated between them, and eventually 'awarded that the said Sir Edward Pomeroy shall clearly exclude, forgive, and put from him all malice and debates ... and from hensforth to be loving unto theym,' and the same conciliatory 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 family to own the Castle, fell into disgrace through joining in the Western rebellion 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 family of the Seymours, or to touch on any that are not connected with Devonshire. Amongst the Duke of Somerset's papers are some extremely 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 amannish, or rather of adivellish, 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 all 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, andfrom various letters, orders, and 'precepts,' it is obvious that these preparations brought him great responsibility 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 constables; ... 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 council 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 all sudden service without defect.'
His grandson, another Sir Edward, was a very loyal and devoted servant of Charles I. In 1643 he was given full power and authority in His Majesty's name 'to impress, raise, enroll, and retain one regiment of 1,500 foot soldiers;' and in the following 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 'legally adjudicated by the judge of our Admiralty there ... for the time being.'
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 following letter is from the Earl of Warwick to Colonel Seymour:
'In Torbay, aboard theJames,'1644,July18.'I return you my serious acknowledgment of your civility, 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 family and the honour I have borne it, the recalling whereof to memory adds to the trouble of our present distance, which I hope God will, in due time, reconcile, 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 will in his time scatter them and undeceive those that wait upon him for counsel.'
'In Torbay, aboard theJames,
'1644,July18.
'I return you my serious acknowledgment of your civility, 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 family and the honour I have borne it, the recalling whereof to memory adds to the trouble of our present distance, which I hope God will, in due time, reconcile, 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 will 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,July16.'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 hostility 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 obligations are swallowed 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 possibility 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 asopus Dei, which is enough to silence all 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.'
'Bath,
'1643,July16.
'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 hostility 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 obligations are swallowed 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 possibility 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 asopus Dei, which is enough to silence all 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 Dartmouth, 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, will 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 all arms, only a carbine instead of pistols, and no rider. Dortington:—Mr Champernowne 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 all through Cromwell's days. Letters and papers of this period shed a light on the difficulties and hardships that in some cases befell the families of Cavaliers. Sir Thomas Fairfax intervened on behalf of MistressSeymour, who was then at the estate of Maiden Bradley in Wiltshire, saying that he had forbidden the soldiers to molest her in any way, and begging the Committee for the County to insure that no civilian 'should prejudice her in the enjoyment of her rights.' The lady had a humbler but very earnest advocate, a servant of 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 well 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 Council 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 following '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, and 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'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 all his sacrifices, but he was reappointed Governor of Dartmouth, and in 1679 his son writes to tell 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 carefully balanced epitaph in Maiden Bradley Church describes him as
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 early part of the fifteenth century. It stands low on the slope of a narrow, winding green valley, and on the west the hill has been cut back to make room for the walls.
The castle faces east, a garden-plot lies in front, and the foundations 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 embattled, and a very high archway is built in the centre of the wall. The colour is difficult to describe, for the castle is very much overgrown 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 projections carried on machicoulis, through the openings of which stones and other missiles could be thrown on the heads of assailants.' 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 wall above the spot where the altar stood, and in this space the faint traces of a fresco can still just be seen. In the wall that shuts off the guard-room is a cinquefoiled piscina and a four-light window, the stonework of which is like that in the east window, and this window allowed anyone in the guard-room to join in Divine service. In the west wall 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 cinquefoiled openings in his wall enabled the priest to look down into the chapel., and the height of the sill from the floor suggests that it may have served him as aprie-dieu. The moulded base of a stone cross still remains over the ancient belfry, which rises out of a mass of ivy.
Compton Castle
There are a bewildering number of rooms, many now inaccessible, and the height of the walls shows that there were two or three, and in the north-east block four, stories. The banqueting-hall, forty-two feet in length and twenty-three in width, has utterly disappeared, and only the gable-marks of the roof against the buildings on the south side have enabled Mr Roscoe Gibbs to draw his very careful deductions. In the kitchen the huge fireplace, stretching the whole width of one wall, still keeps its great fire-bars; next the kitchen is the steward's room, above which two stories still 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 walls. 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, shallow 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 walls throughout the whole building are from two and a half to four feet thick, and a thick and solid wall 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 fantails strutting in front of the heavy walls 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 adescendant. The Gilberts seem to have lived alternately at Compton and on their older property, Greenway, and with one interval the castle belonged to them till nearly the end of the eighteenth century. The only trace of them now to be seen is in the spandrels of a small cinquefoil-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 Phillpotts 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, shall yet conceive these heroes of old moving within their deserted courts. Some chambers are still 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 still within the thickness of its wall. But aloft, where rich arras once hid the stone, and silver sconces held the torch, Nature now sets her hand, brings spleenwort and harts-tongue, trails the ivy, the speedwell, and the toad-flax....
'Ivy-mantled, solemn, silent, 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 mile from the town, and looks on one side over fertile hills and valleys, woods, and rich meadows, and the gleaming waters of the West Okement, 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 persuasion of Sir Richard Pollard, disparked and alienated the same.' The Okement, rippling over a rocky bed—the nameuisg maenicmeans the 'stony water'—hurries past the foot of a knoll on which the castle rises out of a cloud of green leaves that shelterand 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 walls. These buildings stretch down the slope to the east, the space between the two blocks narrowing towards the gateway.
Okehampton Castle
Mr Worth observes that in Devonshire and Cornwall most of the smaller 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 called a middle position.'
Tradition has always held that Baldwin de Brionis, to whom the Conqueror gave the manor, built the Castle, and Mr Worth, after a searching examination, thinks that, as regards the lower part of the keep walls, this may very well be the case; for they are not only Norman, but Norman of the period in which Baldwin lived. The other buildings 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 buildings towards the close of the thirteenth century.
There are gaps in the walls 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 buildings 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 small room in the gate-tower with'a loop window in the eastern wall commanding the approach. Above this chamber there is one precisely similar 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 supported 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 family it remained until 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 fell 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 silver bowl in the other, and offer to serve them with drink.'
About thirteen miles 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 rhododendrons' 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 hill-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 theminto the hands of that powerful noble, Judhaell 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 originally 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.
Sydenham House
'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 valley 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 mullions and small leaded panes of glass, and in some the original glass still 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-hall is the date 1656, when the house underwent repair after damage, caused, it is said, in the Civil 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 opening 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 troopcould 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 panelling in most of the rooms, and in the dining-room the panelling 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 silk curtains and the Prince 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 gradually. 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 Isabella Trenchard of Collocombe 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 distinguished themselves. Andrew and Nicholas were twins, and soamazingly 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 confederation 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.'
Occasionally the twins met with ill-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 Tremayne 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 convenience,' 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 shall serve their country, theAmbassador shall himself comfort them to return home. Circumspection 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 will be better able to serve her.' The King of Navarre, however, did not greatly appreciate Tremayne, and a short time afterwards Throckmorton 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 while to hearken which way the flame will rise to his purpose; but now, finding all the Princes in Christendom inclined to sit still, returns home. Desires Cecil to do something for him to help him to live, as it will be right well bestowed. The Queen will have a good servant in him, and Cecil an honest gentleman at his command.'
Andrew had entered the army, and in Scotland reaped fame from the brilliant 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 gentleman of good behaviour, courtesy, and well 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, 'repulsed 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 Cecil: 'Whereas you write that you are more sorry for the death of Tremain than you could be glad of the death of a 100 Allmaynes, 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 Tremayne, 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 sail 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, followed 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 conspiracy. 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.'
Cecil 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 rebellions, and'to let him know quietly the real condition of the country.' Tremayne, 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 endorsed 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 thePelicanhad 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 follows 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 delivered to her Majesty and seeking in general to recompense all men that have been in this case dealers with him, as I dare take an oath with him, he will 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 Civil Wars, 'and was several hundred pounds deep in their books, at Haberdashers' Hall, 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 sojourn 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 family is the 'tongue token,' believed to have originally belonged to this Edmund Tremayne. These tokens, small enough to put under the tongue in case of need, were given to the bearers of messages from those of high rankor 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 Tremayne 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 silver embroidery, and hung with silver tassels to match; and a piece of velvet that lay over the crupper is thickly strewn with delicate little silver cockle-shells.
About fourteen miles north-east of Exeter, in the valley 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 banqueting-hall is panelled throughout, and its fine carved roof is supported by elaborately carved and pierced hammer-beams. High at one end is the minstrels' gallery, 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 hall. A high arch on one side of the hall divides a small panelled 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 hangingsof 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 actually 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 incongruous 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.