Part 25
Average price. No. of horses sold. £ s. d. 1629 39 2 9 8 1630 97 2 9 9 1631 60 2 19 8½ 1632 26 2 16 2 1633 33 3 5 0 1634 29 2 18 0 1635 21 2 1 10 1636 17 2 15 7 1637 22 2 19 1 1638 31 2 18 0 1639 36 2 14 0 1641 9 2 14 5 1642 3 — 1643 2 1 15 6 1647 46 4 3 4 1648 5 2 14 0 1649 37 3 15 10 1650 17 4 5 8 1651 12 3 16 0
The absence of sales during the years 1644–46, and the small number disposed of in 1641–3, may be accounted for by the following entry in the Parish Register:—
1647. The Regester of the Towne and Burrough of Barnestaple, by the cause of the troubles and the contagion [plague] was not kept from the year anno 1642 till the year anno 1647.
The following prices were realized for cattle sold at the various fairs mentioned above:—
8 heifers, black like, price £30 10s. 0d. 2 black oxen, topp cutt on farther eare. Price £13. 2 heifers and 1 steward. Price £6 13s. 4d. 1 red ox. Price £4 3s. 4d. 2 oxen. Price £10.
The opening of the fair takes place with the ceremonies which have attended it for many generations. On the morning of the first day a large stuffed glove, fixed at the end of a pole, is displayed from a window of the Guildhall, having before the year 1852 been exhibited from the west corner of the Quay Hall, which was demolished in that year to widen the street and quay, and which had been, until the dissolution of religious houses by Henry VIII., an ecclesiastical building, known as St. Nicholas’ Chapel. In the Receiver’s accounts for 1615 occurs the entry:—
Paid for a glove put out at the fair, 4d.;
and in those for 1622:—
Paid for a paire of gloves at the faire 4d.
Another entry in the same account being:—
Paid for candles to hange by a bull that was not beaten,
from which it may be inferred that bull-baiting was one of the amusements provided for visitors. The display of the glove is usually considered to be a symbol of the welcome extended to all comers. In the Guildhall meanwhile the sergeants-at-mace are busy preparing for all comers who care to partake of it the toast and spiced ale, the latter according to a recipe handed down for centuries. With this ale are filled the handsome flagons belonging to the Corporation, and the loving cups charged from them are passed round to the assembled guests. A few toasts are then given, among them that of “The Ladies,” the response to which often affords a good deal of amusement, for humorous Mayors have been known to astonish a bachelor in the company, sometimes “a young man from the country,” by calling upon him to respond; and while some orators have passed the ordeal successfully, others have found the situation an embarrassing one. The speeches ended, and the toast and ale consumed, about noon a procession of the Mayor, Corporation, and officials is formed, and, escorted by a large crowd of on-lookers, the Town Clerk reads the following proclamation at the High Cross and other places in the Borough:—
=Proclamation for the Fair.=
THE MAYOR of this BOROUGH doth hereby give notice that there is a FREE FAIR within this Borough for all manner of persons to BUY and SELL within the same which fair begins on this day WEDNESDAY the and shall continue until 12 o’clock on the night of FRIDAY next the instant during which time the Mayor chargeth and commandeth on HIS MAJESTY’S behalf all manner of persons repairing to this TOWN and FAIR do keep the KING’S PEACE.
AND that all BUYERS and SELLERS to deal justly and truly and do use true WEIGHTS AND MEASURES and that they duly pay their TOLL, STALLAGE and other DUTIES upon pain that shall fall thereon
AND if any OFFENCES INJURY or WRONG shall be committed or done by or to any person or persons within this TOWN FAIR and LIBERTY the same shall be redressed according to JUSTICE and the LAWS of this REALM
DATED this day of September 190
=God Save the King.=
In the olden time it was the custom to have a stag hunt on the second day, and the “fair ball” is still, and has long been, kept up. It was formerly the practice for many tradesmen to keep open house during the fair, of which practice some of their customers took very liberal advantage. Calling on one shopkeeper to pay a small account, they and members of their family who accompanied them would enjoy a hearty meal, and after an hour or two in the fair would repeat the proceeding with another, and sometimes with a third. This has now been put a stop to by the reduction of profits, through the competition brought about by the advent of Co-operative Societies and Companies, and other causes. Not only have the glories of Barnstaple fair been celebrated in prose, but the poet has sung of them, and this sketch may be appropriately concluded by giving one of the compositions that used to be sung:—
=BARNSTAPLE FAIR.=
Oh! Devonshire’s a noble county, full of lovely views, miss! And full of gallant gentlemen, for you to pick and choose, miss! But search the towns all round about there’s nothing can compare, miss! In measurement of merriment, with Barnstaple Fair, miss! Then sing of Barum, merry town, and Barum’s merry Mayor too, I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to!
There’s nothing happens in the year but happens at our fair, sir! ’Tis then that everything abounds, that’s either new or rare, sir! The Misses make their start in life its gaieties to share, sir! And ladies look for beaux and balls to Barnstaple Fair, sir! Then sing of Barum, merry town, and Barum’s worthy Mayor too, I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to!
The little boys and girls at school their nicest clothes prepare, ma’am! To walk the streets and buy sweetmeats and gingerbread so rare, ma’am! Their prime delight’s to see the sights that ornament our square, ma’am! When Powell brings his spangled troop to Barnstaple Fair, ma’am! Then sing of Barum, merry town, and our indulgent Mayor too, I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to!
If milk be scarce though grass be plenty, don’t complain too soon, dame! For that will very often happen in the month of June, dame! Though cows run dry while grass runs high, you never need despair, dame! The cows will calve, and milk you’ll have, to Barnstaple Fair, dame! Then sing of Barum, wealthy town, and its productive Fair too, And drink “the corporation, and the head of it, the Mayor too.”
If pigeons’ wings are plucked, and peacocks’ tails refuse to grow, friend! In spring; you may depend upon’t in autumn they will shew, friend! If feathers hang about your fowls in drooping style and spare, friend! Both cocks and hens will get their pens to Barnstaple Fair, friend! Then, friend leave off your wig, and Barum’s privileges share too, Where everything grows once a year, wing-feathers, tails and hair, too!
If winter wear and summer dust call out for paint and putty, sir! And Newport coals in open grates make paper-hangings smutty, sir! And rusty shops and houses fronts most sadly want repair, sir! Both shops and houses will be smart, to Barnstaple Fair, sir! And Barum is a handsome town, and every day improving, sir! Then drink to all who study its improvement to keep moving, sir!
King George the Third rode out of Staines, the hounds to lay the stag on; But that was no great thing of sport for mighty kings to brag on; The French, alas! go _à la chasse_ in _von po shay_ and pair; But what’s all that to Button Hill? to Barnstaple Fair? For we will all a hunting go, on horse, or mule, or mare, sir! For everything is in the field to Barnstaple Fair, sir!
To Button Hill, whose name to all the sporting world sure known is, Go bits of blood, and hunters, hacks, and little Exmoor ponies; When lords, and ladies, doctors, parsons, farmers, squires, prepare To hunt the stag, with hound and horn, to Barnstaple Fair. Then up and ride for Chillam Bridge or on to Bratton Town, sir! To view the rouse, or watch the yeo, to see the stag come down, sir!
There’s nothing else in jollity, and hospitable fare, sir! That ever can with Barnstaple, in Fair time, compare, sir! And guests are very welcome hospitality to share, sir! For beer is brew’d, and beef is brought, to Barnstaple Fair, sir! Then sing of merry England, and roast beef, old English fare, sir! A bumper to “the town and trade of Barum and its Mayor,” sir!
Boiled beef, roast beef, squab pie, pear pie, and figgy pudding plenty, When eight or nine sit down to dine, they’ll find enough for twenty; And after dinner, for dessert, the choicest fruits you’ll share, sir! E’en walnuts come from Somerset, to Barnstaple Fair, sir! Then sing of Barum, jolly town, and Barum’s jolly Mayor too, No town in England can be found, old Barum to compare to.
I will not sing of Bullock Fair, and brutes whose horrid trade is, To make us shut our window blinds, and block up all the ladies: Nor of the North Walk rush and crush, where fools at horses stare, sir! When Mister Murray brings his nags to Barnstaple Fair, sir! But sing of Barum, jolly town, and Barum’s jolly Mayor too, No town in England can be found old Barum to compare to.
The ball one night, the play the next, with private parties numerous; Prove Barnstaple people’s endless efforts, sir, to humour us; And endless, too, would be my song if I should now declare All the gaieties, and rarities, of Barnstaple Fair. Then loudly sing, God save the King, and long may Barum thrive, O! May we all live to see the Fair, and then be all alive, O!
TIVERTON AS A POCKET BOROUGH.
BY THE EDITOR.
Towards the close of the year 1903 the Earl of Harrowby generously presented to the Mayor and Corporation of Tiverton a very complete collection of manuscripts carefully preserved by his ancestors and relating to the Parliamentary connection between themselves and the old Corporation of Tiverton, swept away by the municipal Reform Act of 1834–5. The general nature of the tie has long been known. It was a political nexus binding privileged burgesses to an influential family, and the sanction was interest. The motto might have been, on both sides, _do ut des_, for, while there were many professions of personal attachment, which may have been real, it was well understood that the cornerstone of the whole edifice was mutual advantage. As the connection, venal in origin, crystallized into permanence and respectability, it lost something of its sordid character. Sentiments of honour and loyalty, and even chivalric devotion, were spoken and cultivated, but these were the accidents, the trimmings. The substance remained what it had always been—reciprocal profit. All this was vaguely familiar to the present generation of townspeople, to whom traditions of the _ancien régime_ had descended from their forefathers, but the arrival of twenty-six stout files, crowded with an infinite variety of curious particulars, has made an evident change in the situation. We no longer behold through the dark windows of distorted memory. Now at last we see face to face; and for the authors of some of those “human documents” the Day of Doom would have already dawned, but for the screen of their own insignificance, which incriminating papers may remove, but the discretion of the censor at once re-erects.
Before we speak of Tiverton as an appanage of the Ryders, it will be desirable to glance at the subject of pocket boroughs in general. There are no pocket boroughs or rotten boroughs now, and readers who have bestowed no special attention on political or constitutional developments, may be glad of some measure of illumination as to their rise and their place in the representative system of England. An impression formerly prevailed that the institution dated from the great Revolution, but this, it will be easy to show, was a fallacy. It was much older. On the other hand, the pocket-borough was never substituted by the arbitrary action of the Crown for the open borough, although it was the settled belief of many of the inhabitants of Tiverton that under the provisions of that mighty instrument, Magna Carta, the right of returning members had been inalienably secured to them, and the circumstance that this right was in fact exercised by neighbouring towns, like Barnstaple and Taunton, was considered proof that the local potwallers, or potwallopers, were the victims of invidious and illegal discrimination. “Magna Carta,” said Sir Edward Coke, “is such a fellow that he will not fear an equal”; and if it had been true that open voting in the boroughs had been promulgated as the law of the land after Runnymede, it has been judicially determined that no departure from that principle, brought about by the use of the Royal prerogative or by any other means, would have been recognized as valid. The terms of Magna Carta, however, do not countenance the view that the burgesses of any given town became entitled at their own option to send deputies to Parliament, or that universal suffrage was the rule. On the contrary, Parliamentary representation had at that time no existence either in theory or in practice. The Commons were simply tenants _in capite_ of the Crown. After 1265, no doubt, elections began to be held, and many little places were summoned to return members, who received salaries from their constituencies in payment of their services. This charge rendered the honour a costly burden, and Edward I., one of the wisest of our princes, varied the direction of the writs so as to distribute the maintenance of the new third estate over as wide an area as possible. The towns themselves did not greatly value the franchise, and, in many instances, petitioned to be relieved of the dubious privilege. It seems unquestionable that the mere receipt of an occasional summons did not create or confirm any inherent or indefeasible right of unbroken representation, nor do we meet with any attempt to institute such a system until the days of the Reformation, when a new spirit invaded the country and the Commons, as a branch of the Legislature, made rapid strides in numbers and importance.
Then it was that the lawyers of the Inns of Court, many of them Puritan in sympathy, disinterred the ancient records, and, on the strength of one or two summonses, insisted that such demesne towns, some mere villages, were boroughs by prescription, and as such possessed the right to send representatives to Parliament for all time. The consequence was that about thirty towns, in which great men at Court had an interest, resumed their lapsed privileges, and by the reign of Queen Elizabeth the Lower House had received an accession of sixty fresh members. This seems to have been brought about in the first instance by the sheriffs sending precepts to the places in question, and although in the thirteenth year of Elizabeth a debate took place regarding the admission of members from towns not hitherto represented, the practice was not seriously challenged owing to the efficient patronage and protection of the courtiers before named. In subsequent reigns the Commons themselves proceeded to enlarge their body. James I., indeed, talked of reform, but that pedantic monarch, far from checking the growth of the borough system, was the very sovereign to whom Tiverton was indebted for its charter.
The small borough, in the nature of things, tended to become a pocket-borough. In the reign of Elizabeth the Earl of Leicester “owned” the town of Andover; and the degree to which this form of property was stretched is amusingly illustrated by the well-known story of Ann Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, who lived in the days of the Merry Monarch. The Secretary of State, Sir Joseph Williamson, had sent her a letter in which he named a particular candidate for her borough of Appleby. Incensed at this presumption, the haughty dame returned the following reply: “I have been bullied by an usurper, I have been neglected by a court, but I will not be dictated to by a subject. Your man shan’t stand.”
The system, it goes without saying, lent itself to numberless kinds of abuse. It has been stated that at one period a mistress of the King of France acquired some borough, and that the Nabob of Arcot was able to secure the return of seven or eight members, all pledged to his interest. These assertions may be true or they may not, but the possibility of such anomalies did not deter apologists from affirming that the system was not by any means an unmixed evil.
A splendid senate, too, requires the gay ornamental parts, a sort of shining plumage. The witty, the ingenious, the elegant, should be represented. They were faithfully represented in our time by a Sheridan, a Hare, a Fitzpatrick. Would a young adventurer, as Sheridan was at his entrance in life, have attracted the eyes of the crowd? Would the attic Hare or courtly Fitzpatrick have contended at a scene like the Westminster election? We might have lost not only them, but even the philosophic eloquence of Burke if all the returns were to proceed from the crowd.—(George Moore, _History of the British Revolution_, p. 341.)
This brief sketch will perhaps suffice as an explanation of the origin and character of the borough system in general. Let us now turn to the case of Tiverton in particular. As has been intimated, many of the inhabitants believed that Tiverton was a borough by prescription, and that accordingly the crown could not by its charter limit the right of election to members of the corporate body alone. Naturally the evidence relied on was that of State papers. An inquisition _post mortem_ a^o 51 Edw. III. sets out the extent and value of the manor and borough, from which it appears that the two were distinct as to rents and services, and that each had a separate court. By Letters Patent a^o 1 Edw. IV., the King grants the manor, borough and hundred to Humphry Stafford, Knight, in special tail without any other description. These data are obviously insufficient, and search was made at the Rolls Chapel from the thirty-third year of Henry VIII., the year of the earliest return to Parliament extant since the reign of Edward IV. The result was not satisfactory to the enthusiasts who instituted the inquiry, the first return discovered being that of 18 James I., when John Bamfylde and John Davye, Esqrs., were returned by indenture dated the 20th December, by the Mayor, capital burgesses, and assistants. It may be added that in Prynne’s _Brevia Parliamentaria_ there occurs no mention of Tiverton, which, on all these grounds, can hardly have been a borough in the sense desired.
Tiverton, then, we may take it as certain, did not enjoy the right of returning members until the thirteenth year of the reign of James I., when the Mayor, Capital Burgesses, Assistant Burgesses of the town and parish, or the major part of them, were empowered to choose and nominate two discreet and sufficient men to be burgesses of the Parliament. The charter was renewed in the same terms in the fourth year of James II., and again in the reign of George II., so that we need feel no surprise that, when the potwallopers from time to time threatened to assert their supposed right, the members of the Common Council, assured of their legal position, treated such vapourings with calm superiority. Until the tidal wave of reform demolished the bulwarks of their monopoly, the twenty-four were sole masters and arbiters. It was they who had the right to decide who should sit in Parliament for the ancient town—they and they alone. But how that right was exercised, if we except the bare list of the Council’s nominees, there is for a long period no evidence to show.
However, there was always material for a deal, and in the former half of the eighteenth century Tiverton already figures as a political tied-house. The overlordship afterwards acquired by the Ryder family was then vested in a politician of some note, who in 1728 was one of the representatives of Tiverton, though the Parliamentary connection of his house with Honiton was even closer and of much longer standing, lasting, indeed, from 1640 to 1796. We allude to Sir William Yonge. Martin Dunsford, the first real historian of Tiverton, describes him as “a popular man and closely attached to the minister, Sir Robert Walpole,” adding that he “had great influence over the leading members of the Corporation of Tiverton, and generally directed their choice of burgesses.” The same writer, referring to Sir Edward Montague and Charles Gore, Esquire, who in 1761 held one of the seats successively, makes bold to assert that “there is reason to believe these members were never in Tiverton, but bargained for their seats at a distance either with Sir William Yonge or with Oliver Peard, Esq., the _primum mobile_, of the Corporation.” With regard to the former, there is clearly some misapprehension, as he had died in 1755, but the tradition that this eminent Devonshire worthy was dictator at Tiverton must have rested on a solid foundation. It behoves us, therefore, to render some further account of him.
In the course of his successful career Sir William, who was the fourth holder of the baronetcy, became one of the Lords of the Treasury, and on the restoration of the order in 1725, was created a Knight of the Bath. Subsequently he was appointed Secretary at War and Privy Councillor, and over and above these political distinctions, was entitled to write after his name the honourable symbols LL.D. and F.R.S. As Dunsford implies, he was a great personal friend of Walpole, and his support was of inestimable value to that statesman, “the glory of the Whigs.” Outside the house he does not appear to have counted (save, of course, in Devonshire), but inside, partly by reason of his high ability, and partly on account of his voice, which is stated to have been peculiarly melodious, his speeches were eagerly listened to. One curious fact preserved concerning him is that Sir Robert could speak from notes taken by Yonge, and by no other.