Part 16
Arrived near Newton, the Prince, as Whittle says, went to Ford House, within a short distance of the town, the residence of Sir William Courtenay, who endeavoured cautiously to abstain from doing anything to compromise himself with the King, should the latter prevail, and so managed not to be at home on the Prince’s arrival, but left directions that he should be hospitably lodged and feasted. Here he probably stayed two nights to enable the whole of the troops to come up and be in order for the march to Exeter, to which place Dr. Burnet and Lord Mordaunt with four troops of horse were sent on in advance.
The room at Ford House in which the Prince slept is still pointed out; it is called the “Orange room,” and is papered and upholstered in orange.
Mr. Blewitt, in the _Panorama of Torquay_, says:—“It is _said_ that his first proclamation was read from the base of the ancient cross at Newton by the Rev. John Reynell, the minister of Wolborough”; and Mr. White, in his valuable _History of Torquay_, published in 1878, repeats this statement as a fact. The stone pedestal on which formerly stood the ancient cross, still remains near the tower at Newton, in the parish of Wolborough, and is now surmounted by a public lamp. On this pedestal is the following inscription:—
THE FIRST DECLARATION OF WILLIAM III., PRINCE OF ORANGE, THE GLORIOUS DEFENDER OF THE LIBERTIES OF ENGLAND, WAS READ ON THIS PEDESTAL BY THE REV. JOHN REYNELL, RECTOR OF THIS PARISH, 5TH NOVEMBER, 1688.
That the Prince’s declaration was read from the old cross there can be little doubt, but that the inscription cannot be looked upon as much of an authority is clear from the statement that the declaration was read on the 5th; for the Prince’s army did not commence to land at Brixham until that day, and could not have possibly reached Newton until the 7th; and that it is erroneous also in stating that it was read by Reynell is evident from the following very interesting paragraph from Whittle’s Diary:—
Now being on their march to Newton Abbot, a certain Divine went before the Army; and finding that ’twas their Market-day, he went unto the Cross, or Town Hall; where, pulling out the Declaration of the Prince of Orange, with undaunted Resolution, he began, with a loud and audible voice, to read as follows: William Henry, by the Grace of God, Prince of Orange, &c., of the Reasons inducing him to appear in Arms in the Kingdom of England, for preserving of the Protestant Religion, and restoring the Laws and Liberties of England, Scotland, and Ireland, &c.
When the people heard the Prince of Orange’s name mentioned, they immediately crowded about him in a prodigious manner to hear him, insomuch that some jeoparded their lives.
The Declaration being ended, he said, God bless and preserve the Prince of Orange: To which the People, with one Heart and Voice, answered Amen, Amen; and forthwith shouted for Joy, and made the Town ring with their echoing Huzzas. The Minister, _nolens volens_, was carried into a Chamber near the Place: the Windows were shut, the doors lock’d and bolted, to prevent the crowd from rushing in.
The People of the House, and others very kindly asked him: Sir, What will you be pleased to eat? or, What shall we provide for you? Name what you love best, it shall be had. The Minister answered, What you please, give me what you will. So they brought forth such as was ready; and having eaten and drunk well, they desired him to spare them but one Declaration. Yes, says he, for I have enow in my Pocket, and pulling them out, he gave Three, because they were of distinct Parishes. He told the People, he would go and visit their Minister, and cause their Bells to ring, because the Prince of Orange was come into the Parish, at Sir Will Courtney’s, tho’ not into the Town; and (says he) this being the first Market-Town, I cannot but think it much the more proper and expedient. Whereupon he went to the Minister’s House, and enquiring for him he was courteously invited in, and desired to sit down: The Reverend Minister of the Parish coming presently to him, they saluted each other; and after some communications passed between them, this Divine from the Army, desired the Keys of his Church Doors, for to welcome the Prince of Orange into England with a Peal (that being the first Market-Town they came to). The Minister answered; Sir, for my own part, I am ready to serve his Highness any way, but of my own accord cannot give the Keys; but you know you may command them, or anything else in my House in the Name of the Prince of Orange, and then I will readily grant it. So the Divine said: Sir, I demand your Keys of the Church Door only for an hour to give his Highness a Peal, and then I will return them safely unto you.
The Minister presently directed him to the Clerk’s house, and desired him to come and take a Glass of Wine with him after the Peal was ended, (but the Ringers coming together, they rung sundry Peals) and he returned the Keys to the Minister.
The People of the Town were exceeding Joyful, and began to drink the Prince of Orange’s Health. The Country People in the Town were well inclined towards us; and here was the first favour we met with worth mentioning. His Highness was most kindly receiv’d and entertain’d at Sir Will Courtney’s, the Souldiers generally well treated by the Vulgar.
Oldmixon, in his _History of the Reign of the Stuarts_, simply says that “the first place the Prince of Orange’s Declaration was publicly read was Newton Abbot, a market town near Exeter, and the first man who read it was _a_ clergyman.” No doubt the fact that it was read by a clergyman gradually changed into the statement that it was read by _the_ clergyman of the parish, and so Reynell became credited with a bold act, which, from Whittle’s account, he was far too cautious a man to commit, however favourable he may have been to the Prince’s cause. The lettering of the inscription is evidently modern, and the Rev. H. Tudor, the present Rector of Wolborough, informs me that a man, now dead, told him he was employed to cut or re-cut it, and was never paid for doing so.
The question remains, and it is an interesting one, who was the divine who first proclaimed the Prince by reading the Declaration? I was first inclined to believe, from the detailed manner in which the story was told, that it was Whittle himself. It is not improbable, however, that it was the renowned Dr. Burnet, afterwards Bishop Burnet. He was the Prince’s own chaplain, and doubtless the head and chief of the clergy who accompanied the Prince, and from his undaunted spirit, and the leading part he took in the Cathedral at Exeter, he was undoubtedly the divine most likely to have performed this act. One gentleman with whom I have been in communication on the point, and whose opinion always carries weight, says:—
Burnet was such a busybody, that I feel certain if anything was to be done by a clergyman he would have put himself forward to do it.
No information is to be gleaned from the parish registers or the books I have inspected relative to what occurred at Newton during the time of the Prince’s visit, but I have been favoured with the following interesting story from a lady now residing at Newton, of the advanced age of ninety-six, told her by her father, who heard it from his grandmother, who was a Miss Joan Bearne, the daughter of Mr. Bearne, a lawyer of Newton Abbot; viz., that when a girl of sixteen, there was a stranger staying at her father’s house for about three weeks, who was only known as “the gentleman,” and who was out during the day, and only returned in the evening; that on the entry of William of Orange into Newton from Ford House, her father took her out to see him, and that walking by the side of the Prince was the strange gentleman, who, on passing where Mr. Bearne was standing, pointed him out as “his host for three weeks” to the Prince, who at once lifted his hat to him.
[This paper having been written in 1880, sundry allusions must be interpreted in the light of that circumstance.—THE EDITOR.]
REYNOLDS’ BIRTHPLACE.
BY JAMES HINE, F.R.I.B.A.
Any interest attaching to Plympton belongs to the olden time. Of many other places it may be said that the new has entirely supplanted the old. Modern business requirements, new warehouses, and thoroughfares, have had the effect of stamping out all vestiges of the past, and even the traditions of them. An unpretending Railway Station and a dozen or more new houses have not had this effect at Plympton. The town has no novelties to shew us; the lions are just what they were two hundred years ago.
Plympton in the olden time had its castle and its priory, its two churches, and later its Guildhall and Grammar School. Not quite in the olden time, but only just on the verge of our prosaic modern time, Plympton gave to the world England’s greatest painter—a circumstance which (though forgotten by the native, who on being asked by a tourist where Sir Joshua Reynolds was born, replied he “never heeard of sich”) should indeed make this honoured little town almost as famous as Stratford-on-Avon.
In the Doomsday Book, Plympton is designated “Terra Regis,” so also are Tavistock, Ashburton, and Tiverton, “all which places were then the King’s demesne towns,” but not boroughs.
A date anterior to the Norman Conquest has been ascribed to the castle, on the ground of its similarity to Trematon, Launceston, and Restormel castles, which Borlase and Grose assert to have been built before the year 900. The antiquaries, however, of the eighteenth century are often extremely inaccurate in their classification both of military and ecclesiastical structures. St. German’s Church, the ancient cathedral of Cornwall, is designated Saxon by them, whereas its features, as any tyro will now see, are undoubted Norman; in fact, there are no remains of Saxon architecture in Cornwall, and it would be surprising if there were, seeing that the Saxons never had any permanent hold on this part of Britain; for, though Egbert is said to have reduced the Cornish Britons to “nominal subjection” about the year 810, we find that Athelstan as late as 936 was in conflict with the British forces, and drove them across the Tamar, and not until that year had Exeter been subjected to his government.
Restormel Castle is undoubtedly of Norman construction, and it is probable that the most ancient portions of Launceston Castle are nearly two centuries later than the date ascribed by Borlase.
Although, therefore, from the naturally strong position of all these castles, it is probable that the Britons occupied these positions for defence, no visible remains can be considered as anterior to the Norman Conquest. In the absence of any architectural details at Plympton Castle—the masonry in the walls being somewhat analogous to the British masonry found in different parts of Cornwall—there may be more room for doubt and conjecture here than in respect to the other castles; yet the rudeness of the masonry may be accounted for by supposing that only the vassal inhabitants of the neighbourhood were employed in the works, under Norman architects and overseers.
The vestiges of Norman rule are clearly traceable in the county and borders of Devon. The same independent character which Exeter maintained against the Saxon authority, that city endeavoured to assert against the Conqueror; and the obedience of the western capital required to be insured by a number of castles, of a date not long subsequent to the Conquest. The castles of Barnstaple, Exeter, Totnes, Plympton, and Trematon guarded the rivers which gave access to the interior of the county; and the fortresses of Okehampton, Launceston, Lydford, Berry, and Tiverton, the inland passes. Of the castles enumerated here, Berry at least has been entirely rebuilt at a later period.
Plympton Castle was the chief residence of the Earls of Devon and Lords of Plympton. King Henry, the youngest son of the Conqueror, in the first year of his reign, granted the Lordship to Richard de Redvers or Rivers and his posterity, to enjoy also the title and possessions belonging to the Devonshire Earldom. The said Richard was one of William the Conqueror’s generals in the battle of Hastings, and obtained the barony of Okehampton from William Rufus. He was one of the chief councillors of Henry the First, and was so highly esteemed by him that he was created first Earl of Devon since the Conquest. The castle stood on the north side of the town, occupying a space of about two acres, extending 700 feet from east to west, including the ditch, and 400 feet from north to south. Leland says of this structure, in his Itinerary, “On the side of the town is a fair large castelle and dungeon in it, whereof the walls yet stand, though the lodgings be clean decayed.” At present there only remains a portion of the circular keep or tower, fifty feet in diameter, on a mound about sixty feet high. The ruined walls average fourteen feet in height and are nine feet thick, grouted with mortar or concrete as hard as the stones themselves. Around the keep in the thickness of the wall is a plastered flue, fifteen inches by ten inches, the purpose of which is not obvious. It has been suggested that it was designed for the conveyance of sound. It seems more probable that it was for ventilation. There is a similar flue at Rochester Castle. The habitable portions of Plympton Castle must have been of considerable extent. These, including the state apartments, and lodgings (as Leland calls them) for the military and retainers, were within the outer castle walls, and built around a spacious basse-court. The ballium wall—embattled and flanked with towers—was raised on a platform about 30 feet above the fosse or ditch, in the position now indicated by a modern path, and by a belt of trees planted about a hundred years ago. The basse-court has long been a quiet village green, and the site of the ballium wall, where stern warriors peered over frowning battlements, is now a “lovers’ walk.” Such are the tendencies of modern civilization. Surrounding the castle wall was a deep moat about 40 feet wide, still to be traced, except on the eastern side, where it has been filled up. In Leland’s time it was full of water, and stored with carp. There are no remains whatever of the great gateway of the castle (with its drawbridge and portcullis), which, as shewn by the seal of the Lords of Plympton, was on the north side. There were probably towers at the different angles.
In the time of Baldwin de Rivers, second Earl of Devon and Lord of Plympton, the castle was the scene of events which strikingly illustrate the then unsettled state of the country, and the insubordination of even the most privileged class. Baldwin de Rivers was considered one of the richest and bravest men of the age; but having with some other nobles rebelled against King Stephen, on account, it is said, of the king refusing to confer certain honours on them, he fortified himself in his castle at Exeter, where he was besieged by the monarch; and it appears that certain knights, to whom he had entrusted his castle of Plympton, being apprehensive of the Earl’s danger, or alarmed about their own safety, treated for the surrender of Plympton; and the king sent two hundred men with a large body of archers from Exeter to Plympton, who unexpectedly appeared under the walls of the castle about daybreak, and, according to the chronicler, the fortress was then almost entirely destroyed.
The lands of the Earl, which extended far and wide round Plympton Castle, and said to have been abundantly stocked and well cultivated, were harried by the king’s troops, who drove off to Exeter many thousands of sheep and oxen.[6] Baldwin was then dispossessed of all his honours, and banished the kingdom; but afterwards siding with the Empress Matilda, in the civil wars which ensued, he was restored to all his honours and possessions by Henry II. He died A.D. 1155, and was succeeded by his son, Richard de Redvers.
Footnote 6:
Devonshire wool was already a valuable commodity, and was bought at that time, it is said, by Flemish merchants who frequented Devonshire ports.
Baldwin, the eighth Earl, was the last of the male Redvers or Rivers who held the barony of Plympton. His death, by poison, occurred in France in 1262, and the inheritance of the Earls of Devon and Lords of Plympton descended to Isabella de Redvers, the wife of the Earl of Albemarle, who styled herself Countess of Devon. Their only issue was a daughter, Aveline, who married the Earl of Lancaster, and she dying in 1293, without issue, Hugh Lord Courtenay, next heir to Isabella, Countess of Devon, and lineally descended from John Courtenay, Lord of Okehampton, who married the daughter of Sir William de Redvers, became ninth Earl.
The possession by the Courtenays during succeeding centuries of the Earldom of Devon and the Barony of Plympton, was marked by many interesting and even tragical incidents, but these have no very immediate connection with the subject of this paper.[7]
Footnote 7:
One remarkable circumstance—mentioned by Pole—concerning Henry Courtenay, created Earl in 1525, may be noted. “This Henry,” says Pole, “was soe intimate unto King Henry the 8th, that having no issue he intended to have made hym his successor unto the crown; but afterwards he fell into high displeasure of the King, so, as being questioned with divers others for ayding of Cardinale Poole, and intencion for the raising of forces on the Pope’s behalf, he was arraigned, convicted, and executed for treason.”
The barony of Plympton was subdivided in the reign of Queen Mary. In the beginning of the eighteenth century it was in the hands of three families. It is now invested in the Earl of Morley.
The castle (probably rebuilt after its partial demolition in the time of Baldwin de Rivers, second Earl) does not appear to have been much molested between the reigns of Stephen and Charles I.; at least, we have no record of any memorable event during that long interval.
At the beginning of the Civil War, Plympton was the headquarters of the force which the Royalists then had in the county. It was one of the principal quarters of Prince Maurice’s army whilst besieging Plymouth, from October, 1642, to January, 1643. The King had a garrison here, which, however, was taken by the Earl of Essex, in the month of July, 1644. The castle at this period was mounted with eight pieces of ordnance.
The fertile valley of the Plym was often a tempting field for plunder to the Plymouth parliamentary troops, as it had been to the archers of King Stephen five centuries before. Its rich pasturage and produce induced a fraternity of pious monks at a very early period to settle here; which brings me to speak of the once famous priory of Plympton, the richest and most flourishing in Devon.
The first monastery or college existing here is said to have been founded by one of the Saxon kings, possibly Ethelwolf, who had a palace, so tradition informs us, at Yealmpton, about four miles distant. This establishment, however, early came to grief. Leland says:—
The glory of this towne (Plymptoun Marie) stoode by the priorie of blake chanons, there buildid and richely endowid with landes.
The original beginning of this priorie was after this fascion: one William Warwist, bisshop of Excester, displeased with the chanons or prebendaries of a fre chapelle of the fundation of the Saxon kinges, because they wold not leve theyr concubines, found meanes to dissolve their college, wherein was a deane or provost, and four prebendaries, with other ministers.
The prebende of Plympton self was the title of one, and the prebend of S. Peter and Paule at Sultown, now caullid Plymmouth, another. Bisshop Warwist, to recompence the prebendaries of Plympton, erectid a college of as many as wer ther at Bosenham in Southsax, and annexid the gift of them to his successors, bisshops of Excester. Then he set up at Plympton a priorie of canons regular, and after was ther buried in the chapitre house.
Diverse noble men gave after landes to this priorie, emong whom was Walterus de Valletorta, lord of Tremerton, in Cornewal, and, as sum say, of Totnes, who gave onto Plymtown priorie the isle of S. Nicholas cum cuniculis, conteyning a two acres of ground, or more, and lying at the mouthes of Tamar and Plym ryvers.
There were buryed sum of Courteneis and diverse other gentilmen in the chirch of the priorie of Plymtoun.
The second establishment, then—dedicated to the Virgin Mary and SS. Peter and Paul—of the Order of St. Augustine, was founded in 1121 by William Warelwast, Bishop of Exeter, the nephew and chaplain of William the Conqueror. He was one of the most gifted and energetic ecclesiastics of his day, and to him we are indebted for the earliest existing portions of Exeter Cathedral, including the two noble Norman towers. He seems to have set his heart on making Plympton priory the richest and most important in this part of the kingdom, and conveyed to it very large properties in Exeter. Many noblemen followed his example.
The rental of the priory shows that certain lands and rents were attached to the several conventual offices of almoner, precentor, cellarer, and chaplain of the infirmary.
Some idea of the wealth of the monastery may be gathered from the fact that at the dissolution it was rated at £912 12_s._ 8_d._ per annum, whereas the whole annual revenue of the 173 Augustine priories in the kingdom amounted to £33,027, the average being about one-fourth that of Plympton.
The founder, Bishop Warelwast, was buried here (as Leland says) in the chapter house of the priory, as were also the remains of his nephew, the fifth Bishop of Exeter. “Whoever is acquainted,” says Dr. Oliver, “with the deeds and writings of subsequent bishops, the immediate patrons of Plympton Priory, must have observed how closely they imitated the zeal of the founder in watching and guarding its interests and promoting its welfare.” Amongst other privileges, the prior and convent possessed the right of appointing the rural dean of Plympton.
The venerable building had been destroyed before Leland’s time, as is evident from his saying “the chirch that there a late stood,” meaning, of course, the priory church.
“At present,” says Dr. Oliver, “scarcely a vestige remains of any of the conventual buildings”; but in this respect, as we shall hereafter see, he is not quite correct.