Part 14

I think if we compare these two poems, which embody Herrick’s attitude to nature and country life during the Dean Prior period, with some of the earlier (as I think) lyrics in the _Hesperides_, we shall feel that if Dean Prior took something from him, it also gave him something. Compare them, for instance, with “Fair Daffodils, we weep to see,” or the song to “Meddows,” which begins “Ye have been fresh and green.” These last are beautiful fancies, among the most beautiful in our language, but they have not the depth or fulness of feeling which the triplet has. _That_ breathes the spirit of the true lover of rural life, and so it seems to me that if Herrick, in this little out-of-the-way village, felt the lyric power gone, if the “fairy fancies” no longer “ranged” or “lightly stirred” as before, on the other hand, something of the peace of a country village, something of the peace which Wordsworth felt two centuries later, had descended upon him.

Finally, let me call the reader’s attention to the two “Graces for little children,” also to be found in _Noble Numbers_:—

Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee For a Benison to fall On our meat and on us all.

And again—

What God gives and what we take, ’Tis a gift for Christ His sake; Be the meal of beans and pease, God be thanked for those and these. Have we flesh or have we fish, All are fragments from His dish. He His Church save and the King, And our peace here like a spring Send it ever flourishing.

If I may indulge in a little fancy, I should say that this last was written for some small Dean Prior “maid”; written on one of those delicious balmy days which a Devonshire spring sometimes, though not, alas! always, brings; written during the first half of Herrick’s first incumbency, when peace still “flourished” at Dean Prior, though perhaps the shadows of the coming trouble were not unfelt by those who could read the signs of the times. Both these “Graces” always seem to me to have a peculiar charm and freshness, and even by themselves they would go far to justify the view that has been maintained in this essay, that Herrick’s genius, if hampered and enfeebled in some ways, was in other ways matured and mellowed by his sojourn in “dull Devonshire.”

The following passage, which is an extract from an article in the _Quarterly_ of August, 1809, by Mr. Barron Field, may be of some interest:—

Being in Devonshire during the last summer, we took an opportunity of visiting Dean Prior for the purpose of making some inquiries concerning Herrick, who, from the circumstance of having been vicar of that parish (where he is still talked of as a poet, a wit, and a hater of the county) for twenty years, might be supposed to have left some unrecorded memorials of his existence behind him. We found many persons in the village who could repeat some of his lines, and none who were not acquainted with his "Farewell to Dean Bourn"—

“Dean Bourn, farewell; I never look to see Dean, or thy watry incivility,”

which, they said, he uttered as he crossed the brook upon being ejected by Cromwell from the Vicarage, to which he had been presented by Charles I. “But,” they added, with an air of innocent triumph, “he did see it again,” as was the fact after the Restoration. And, indeed, although he calls Devonshire “dull,” yet as he admits, at the same time, that “he never invented such ennobled numbers for the press as in that loathed spot,” the good people of Dean Prior have not much reason to be dissatisfied.

The person, however, who knows more of Herrick than all the rest of the neighbourhood, we found to be a poor woman in the ninety-ninth year of her age, named Dorothy King. She repeated to us, with great exactness, five of his _Noble Numbers_, among which was the beautiful Litany quoted above. These she had learned from her mother, who was apprenticed to Herrick’s successor in the vicarage. She called them her prayers, which, she said, she was in the habit of putting up in bed whenever she could not sleep, and she therefore began the Litany at the second stanza, “When I lie within my bed,” etc. Another of her midnight orisons was the poem beginning—

“Every night thou does me fright, And keep mine eyes from sleeping,” etc.

She had no idea that these poems had ever been printed, and could not have read them if she had seen them. She is in possession of few traditions as to the person, manners, and habits of life of the poet, but in return she has a whole budget of anecdotes respecting his ghost, and these she details with a careless but serene gravity which one would not willingly discompose by any hints at a remote possibility of their not being exactly true. Herrick, she says, was a bachelor, and kept a maid-servant, as his poems, indeed, discover; but she adds, what they do not discover, that he also kept a pet pig, which he taught to drink out of a tankard. And this important circumstance, together with a tradition that he one day threw his sermon at the congregation, with a curse for their inattention, forms almost the sum total of what we could collect of the poet’s life.

F. H. COLSON.

THE LANDING OF THE PRINCE OF ORANGE AT BRIXHAM, 1688.

BY THE LATE T. W. WINDEATT.

The landing of the Prince of Orange—the Prince who "saved England"—on the shores of Devon in 1688, must always be a matter of interest. The subject has been dealt with by Macaulay and other historians with more or less detail. I certainly should not, therefore, have ventured on the subject myself had it not been for the fact of having had placed in my hands, through the courtesy of Mr. J. B. Davidson, of Secktor, a somewhat rare pamphlet, containing many interesting facts not noted in the papers referred to by Mr. Pengelly, and from my being the repository of some local anecdotes worth preserving.

The pamphlet I have referred to is entitled, “An Exact Diary of the late Expedition of His Illustrious Highness The Prince of Orange (now King of Great Britain), from his Palace at the Hague to his Landing at Torbay, and from thence to his arrival at Whitehall. Giving a particular account of all that happened and every Day’s March. By a Minister Chaplain in the Army.” It consists of seventy-three pages, was printed for Richard Baldwin, near the Black Bull, in the Old Bailey, in 1689, licensed April 23rd, 1689. It is dedicated to the Earls of Bedford and Portland, Viscount Sidney of Sheppy, and Sir John Maynard, one of the Lords Commissioners of the Great Seal; and from the Dedication it appears that the writer was one “John Whittle.”

This Sir John Maynard was at this time Recorder for this borough, and member for the borough during the Long Parliament. He was a very able lawyer, and at this time near ninety. It is related of him that when he came “with the men of the law” to welcome the Prince, the latter took notice of his great age, and said that he had outlived all the men of the law of his time. Whereupon Maynard replied, he had like to have outlived the law itself if his Highness had not come over.

That this pamphlet is genuine, and was written by an English clergyman who accompanied the expedition throughout, there is strong internal evidence; and Macaulay cites it as one of the authorities for several of his statements with reference to the expedition, though he does not quote largely from it.

In this diary or, more strictly, narrative, which enters more fully into particulars than the other pamphlets, Mr. Whittle gives a graphic account of the arrangements for, and the departure of, the expedition, the storm which sent it back again, its refitting, second departure, and safe (if not miraculous) arrival in Torbay, of all of which the writer was evidently an eye-witness.

The number of our capital ships or men-of-war was about fifty, which were very well rig’d, mann’d, and provided with all things requisite; the number of our fire-ships was about five and twenty; lesser Men-of-war or Frigats about six and twenty; the number of Merchant Ships, Pinks, Fly-boats and others was about three hundred and odd; so the total number of the Fleet as they sailed from the Brill was about four hundred and odd ships. But at our setting out the second time, at Hellevort-Sluys, there were near an hundred vessels more, which were Schievelingers or Boats which the Fisher-men of Schieveling went to sea in.

Whittle gives the following account of the final departure of the expedition:—

Upon Thursday, Novemb. 1, Old Stile, Novemb. 11, New Stile, after the Prince of Orange had din’^d with all English, Dutch, Scotch, and French Lords, Knights and Gentlemen attending his Sacred Person, about three or four of clock in the afternoon, he went on board a new vessel of about Twenty-eight Guns, with the Rotterdam’s Admiral call’d the Brill, as some will have it, and being now in his Cabin, fired, for to give notice unto all the Fleet to weigh their anchors and make Sail, which was accordingly done by every Ship with all possible expedition. The whole Fleet was divided into three Squadrons; the Red Flag was for the English and Scotch, commanded by Major-General Mackay; the White Flag was for the Prince’s Guards and the Brandenburghers, commanded by Count Solms; the Blew Flag was for the Dutch and French, commanded by Count Nassau. Now every Ship had a certain Mark, or Token, that it might be known unto what Squadron she belong^d.

So once more the whole Fleet (thro’ God’s blessing) was under sail for England, with a very favourable East Wind. The darkness coming on us, all the Ships set out their Lights, which was very pleasant to see, and the Ship in which the Prince of Orange was, had three Lanthorns, the Men of War two, and each other Ship one.

Whittle brings the fleet to the English shores, and thus continues:—

On the morrow-morning, being the Lord’s day, Novemb. 4, Old Stile, which was the happy Birthday of his thrice Illustrious Highness, the Prince of Orange; most men were of opinion that we should land either in the Isle of Wight, Portsmouth, or some other convenient place, about which matter they were much mistaken, for the Prince of Orange did not sail, but observe the duty of the day; so all were driven of the Waves. Prayers and Sermon being done, he went to Dinner with some Nobles attending him, and about Four of Clock in the afternoon made sail, all the whole Fleet following the example of his ship; now every Schipper endeavour’d for to keep sight of the three Lanthorns or Admiral of Rotterdam’s Ship for the sake of his Highness therein. The darkness shutting upon us all our Lights were set out as before.

Whittle then brings us down to the morning of Monday, the 5th of November, and proceeds as follows:—

So when the day began to dawn, we found that we were very near the English Shore, but whereabout we could not yet tell. The Ship in which the Prince of Orange was sailed so near the Shore that with much facility a man might cast a stone on the Land; we were driven very slowly, all our Sails being struck. The morning was very obscure with the Fog and Mist, and withal it was so calm that the Vessels now as ’twere touch’d each other, every Ship coming as near unto the Ship wherein the Prince of Orange was as the Schipper thereof would permit them. Here we were moving for a while very slowly by the Shore, and could see all the Rocks there abouts very plain. We perceived that we should land thereabout, but no place near was commodious for either Men or Horses, it being a steep Rock to march up. The Ships did all observe the motion of the three Lanthorns, which were driven by the Coast of England back again, for we had sailed somewhat beyond Torbay. And being thus calm’d for a while, it afterwards pleased the God of Heaven, that He gave us a West or Westerly Wind, which was the only Wind that could blow to bring us safe into the Bay; for even to this place we had an East and South-East Wind, which was indeed a good Wind to bring us from Holland, and along all the Channel, but not to carry us into the Bay, there were so many Rocks and Shelves on that side. Making some Sail again, his Highness the Prince of Orange gave order that his Standard should be put up, and accordingly it was done, the White Flag being put uppermost, signifying his most gracious offer of Peace unto all such as would live peaceably: And under that the Red or Bloody Flag was set up, signifying War unto all such as did oppose his just Designs. The Sun recovering strength soon dissipated the Fog, and dispers’d the Mist, insomuch that it prov’d a very pleasant Day. Now every Vessel set out its Colours, which made a very pleasant show. By this time the People of Devonshire thereabout had discovered the Fleet, the one telling the other thereof; they came flocking in droves to the side or brow of the Hills to view us: Some guess’d we were French, because they saw divers White Flags; but the Standard of the Prince, the Motto of which was, For the Protestant Religion and Liberty, soon undeceived them.

Others more discreet said, that it was the Dutch Fleet so much talk’d of in the Nation, and so long expected by most people. This Day was very remarkable in England before, being the fifth of November, the Bells were ringing as we were sailing towards the Bay, and as we landed, which many judged to be a good Omen: before we came into the Bay’s mouth, as we were near the Rocks, the People ran from Place to Place after us; and we being so near as to see and discern the Habit of the Country People, and they able to see us and hear our voices, a certain Minister in the Fleet, on board the Ship called the Golden Sun, went up to the top of the uppermost Cabin, where the Colours hang out, a Place where he could easily behold all the people on the Shore, and where they might most perfectly see him, and pulling a Bible out of his Pocket, he opened it, and held it so in his right Hand, making many flourishes with it unto the People, whose Eyes were fix’^d on him, and duly observ’d him, thereby signifying to the People the flourishing of the Holy Gospel (by God’s Blessing upon the Prince of Orange’s Endeavours), and calling out as loud as he was able, said unto them on the top of the Rock: For the Protestant Religion, and maintaining of the Gospel in the Truth and Purity thereof, are we all by the Goodness and Providence of God come hither, after so many storms and Tempests. Moreover, said he, it is the Prince of Orange that’s come, a Zealous Defender of that Faith which is truly Ancient, Catholic, and Apostolical, who is the Supream Governour of this very great and fomidable Fleet. Whereupon all the People shouted for Joy, and Huzzas did now echo into the Air, many amongst them throwing up their Hats, and all making signs with their Hands. So after the Minister had given them some Salutations, and they returned him the same again, he came down from off the upper Deck, unto the vulgar one among his Acquaintance, who spoke to him about the People on the brow or side of the mountain.

The bells were evidently ringing for the 5th of November, and I find that the bells of the parish church of Brixham are still rung on that day, but I apprehend that the custom has been continued in commemoration of the landing of the Prince.

All who know Brixham, even in its present populous condition, can corroborate the accuracy of Whittle’s description of the coast, and recognize his felicitous expression of the people on shore being “on the brow of the mountain.”

Whittle proceeds as follows:—

The Prince of Orange being come into the middle of the Bay, called Torbay, attended with three or four Men of War only, that is to say, one or two sailing before his Vessel, and one on each side the Ship in which he was; and all the Merchant Ships, Pinks and Fly-boats coming round him, as near as they durst for safety, the rest of the Men of War being out in the Rear to secure all the little Pinks and Fly-boats, and withal to prevent the English Fleet from disturbing us in our Landing.

At the upper end of Torbay there is a fair House, belonging to one Mr. Carey, a very rigid Papist, who entertained a Priest in his House. This Priest going to recreate himself on the Leads, on the top thereof, it being a most delightsome day, as he was walking there he happened to cast his Eyes towards the Sea, and espying the Fleet at a distance, withal being purblind in his Eyes, as well as blinded by Satan in his mind, he presently concludes that ’twas the French Navy (because he saw divers White Flags) come to land the Sons of Belial, which should cut off the Children of God, or as they call us, the Hereticks. And being transported with joy, he hastened to inform his own Disciples of the House, and forthwith they sung Te Deum. This was a second grand Mistake, the third time will fall to our Lot to sing Te Deum for our safe Landing (as the Prince had it done at Exeter Cathedral in the Quire): And because false Reports were spread abroad, that the People of this House had shot several of the Prince of Orange’s Souldiers, and thereupon they had burnt down the House. I must inform the candid Reader that there was nothing at all in it, for our People did not give them one reviling word, nor they us; some lodged there while we were at Torbay.

He then proceeds with the following account of the landing:—

The major part of the fleet being come into the Bay, Boats were ordered to carry the Prince on Shore, with his Guards; and passing towards the Land, with sundry Lords, the Admiral of Rotterdam gave divers Guns at his Landing; the Boat was held length-ways until he was on shore: So after he had set his Fleet on Land, then came all the Lords and Guards, some going before his Sacred Person, and some coming after. There are sundry little Houses which belong unto Fishermen, between the two Hills, at Torbay where we landed. The People of these Houses came running out at their Doors to see this happy Sight. So the Prince, with Mareschal Schomberg, and divers Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, marched up the Hill, which all the Fleet could see over the Houses, the Colours flying and flourishing before his Highness, the Trumpets sounding, the Hoit-boys played, the Drums beat, and the Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, and Guards shouted; and sundry Huzzas did now echo in the Fleet, from off the Hill, insomuch that our very hearts below in the water were even ravished for joy thereof. On this Hill you could see all the Fleet most perfectly, and the Men of War sailing up and down the Seas, to clear them of all enemies; the Ships in the Rear making all the sail and speed they could.

The Navy was like a little City, the masts appearing like so many Spires. The People were like Bees swarming all over the Bay; and now all the Schievelingers are set to work to carry the Men and Horses unto Shore with speed, for as yet they had done nothing. The Officers and Souldiers crowded the Boats extreamly, many being ready to sink under the Weight; happy was that Man which would get to Land soonest: And such was the eagerness of both Officers and Souldiers, that divers jeoparded their Lives for haste. Sundry Oars were broken in rowing, because too many laid hands on them, some jump’d up to their Knees in Water, and one or two were over Head and Ears. Extraordinary pains was now taken by all sorts of Men to get their necessary things to shore, every one minding his own concern. The Night was now as the Day for Labour, and all this was done, lest the Enemy should come before we were all in readiness to receive them. The Country Harmony was, ringing of Bells for our arrival.

The Officers and Souldiers were continually marching up the Hill after the manner of the Guards, with their Colours flying and flourishing, Hoit-boyes playing, Drums beating, and all shouting and echoing forth Huzzas.

Whittle does not give many particulars of the landing of the Prince himself. Probably they did not land at the same time. It is interesting as to this to refer to the details given by Blewitt in the _Panorama_. His account is as follows:—

The 4th of November it anchored safely in Torbay. This was the anniversary of the Prince’s birth and marriage, and he therefore wished to render it more memorable by landing on the British shore. The preparations, however, could not be completed that night, but on the following day, the Prince, attended by his principal officers, proceeded to raise his standard on Brixham Quay. At this time Brixham contained but few houses, and the good people, astonished at the appearance of such an armament, are said to have stood in silent wonder on the beach. At last William approached the shore and demanded whether he was welcome, when after some further pause he was asked his business, and his explanation considered satisfactory, he was, after a little more parley, informed that he was welcome. “If I am, then,” said the Prince, “come and carry me ashore,” and immediately a little man, one of the party, plunged into the water and carried him triumphantly ashore to the steps of the pier. On his landing the inhabitants are said to have presented their illustrious visitor with the following address:

“And please your Majesty King William, You’re welcome to Brixham Quay To eat buckhorn and drink bohea, Along with me, And please your Majesty King William.”

This story Mr. White very properly calls an absurd one, as the Prince was not a King, and tea was a fabulous price.

In a note to this account, said to have been communicated by the Rev. H. F. Lyte, it is stated as follows:—

The subsequent history of the “little man” who carried the King on shore is rather singular. Having a short ambling pony, which was commonly used in fish-jolting, he rode bare-headed before the Prince to Newton and afterwards to Exeter, and so pleased him by his zeal that he told him to come to him to court, where he should be seated on the throne, and he would make a great man of him. He also gave him a line under his hand, which was to be his passport into the royal presence. In due time accordingly the little man took his course to London, promising his townsmen that he should come back among them a Lord at least. When, however, he arrived there some sharpers, who learnt his errand at the inn where he put up, made our poor little Brixhamite gloriously drunk, and kept him in that state for several successive weeks. During this time one of the party, having obtained the passport, went to court with the little man’s tale in his mouth, and received a handsome present from the King. Our adventurer, recovering himself shortly afterwards, went to the Palace without his card of admission and was repulsed as an impostor, and came back to Brixham never to hold up his head again.