Part 12
Now, while there is no doubt that Chard united in his own person the offices of Abbot and Suffragan Bishop, the above account is at fault in attributing “the stag’s head cabossed” to the then Bishop of Exeter, for it formed no part of the armorial bearings either of Bishop Oldham or of his successor, Veysey. In a letter from Dr. Chard to Cardinal Wolsey “the stag’s head cabossed” is used as the _seal_, and is expressly referred to in the body of the letter as “_sigillum meum_,” and we find the same device associated with his name or monogram in various parts of the Abbey buildings; the most probable solution being that it relates to the ancient cognizance of the Abbey, or the site whereon it stands, which, as we have already seen, was Hertbath (_balneum cervorum_).
Further confirmation of Dr. Chard’s double office of Bishop and Abbot is found in a remarkable panel in the frieze (_see illustration_), which appears to have been designed for the purpose of attesting this fact, if not in actual words, yet in unmistakable and appropriate symbolism. The small top corner shields of this panel contain the letters T. C., and the lower ones an abbot’s and a bishop’s staff, respectively; whilst on the hatchment-shaped panel in the centre occurs the stag’s head and bishop’s staff, the name “Tho. Chard” on a scroll entwined round an abbot’s staff; and above these, as a fitting termination to the whole, appears the abbot’s cap, surmounted by the bishop’s mitre.
The entrance porch contains a fine west window of the same character as those of the adjoining great hall, which in their turn correspond with those of the cloister, and above them is a frieze of grotesque animals. To quote once more from the book already referred to:
This part of the building has been shorn of its length, as, on minute inspection, will appear. The royal arms are not in the centre, as they no doubt originally were. They consist of a rose crowned, encircled with a garter, and supported by a dragon and greyhound, the badges of Henry VII.... Although the remaining portion of this wing has been altered, it was built by Thomas Chard, the battlements corresponding with the tower and chapel; and as a more decisive proof that it was so, there is, at the western end of the building, but hid by ivy, the portcullis cut in stone, another of the badges of Henry VII.; and to the north, or back side, are the initials T. C., with the crosier and cap.
The ancient guest-chamber, so integral a part of these old foundations, appears to have been at right angles to the great hall, as it was noticed some years ago on the collapse of portions of the ceiling that the ancient timber roof was still _in situ_. We shall have a little to say later about the alteration and adaptation of the interior for the purposes of a modern mansion, when, happily, much of Dr. Chard’s work was not disturbed; but we have, unfortunately, no record of the condition of the fabric prior to the restorations of the above prelate, and his task seems to have been little less than the rebuilding of the greater part of the edifice. The antiquary Leland, visiting the Abbey during Dr. Chard’s alterations, writes: “_Cœnobium nunc sumptibus plane non credendis abbas magnificentissime restaurat_.”[47] This beautiful structure had scarcely had its delicate stonework mellowed by the soft winds from the Devonshire moors, when the Dissolution, long impending, burst in fury upon the larger religious houses, and on March 8th, 1539, Thomas Chard was induced to sign the surrender of his beloved Abbey of Ford, which was endeared to him by many sacred associations, and on which he had lavished his own private fortune and the artistic genius of a master mind. The following is a translation (according to Dr. Pring) of the document of surrender, the wording of which, we may be sure, accorded ill with the reluctant hands that attached the names and seals:—
To all the faithful in Christ, to whom this present writing shall come: Thomas Chard, abbot of the monastery or abbey, and of the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary, of Ford, in the county of Devon, of the Cistercian order, and the same place and convent, everlasting salvation in the Lord.
[Sidenote:
Per me Thomā abbem Willūs Rede, prior John Cosen Robte Yetminster. Johēs Newman. Johēs Bridgwat^{r}. Thomas Stafford. Johēs Ffawell. W. Winsor. Elizeus Oliscomb. William Keynston. William Dynyngton. Richard Kingesbury. ]
Know ye that we, the aforesaid abbot and convent, by our unanimous assent and consent, with our deliberate minds, right, knowledge, and mere motion, from certain just and reasonable causes especially moving our minds and consciences have freely, and of our own accord given and granted, and by these presents do give, grant, and surrender and confirm to our illustrious prince, Henry VIII., by the grace of God, king of England, lord of Ireland, supreme head of the Church of England in this land, all our said monastery or abbacy of Ford aforesaid. And also all and singular manors, lordships, messuages, etc. In testimony whereof, we, the aforesaid abbot and convent, have caused our common seal to be affixed to these presents. Given at our Chapter House of Ford aforesaid, on the 8th day of the month of March, and in the thirtieth year of the reign of King Henry aforesaid. Before me, William Petre, one of the clerks, etc., the day and year above written.
By me, Willm̄n Petre.
No sooner had the document been signed than the work of pillage commenced; but one is inclined to agree with the Devonshire historian Prince, that, “by what lucky chance he knew not, Ford Abbey escaped better than its fellows, and continueth for the greatest part standing to this day.” At the same time, there is little doubt that much havoc took place, although, perhaps, not to the extent recorded by Risdon, who says it now merely “somewhat showeth of what magnificence once it was.”
It is just possible that Thomas Chard’s beautiful work softened the hearts of the spoilers, and its very wealth of ornament caused it to be retained as too valuable a prize to be utterly demolished; but, whether standing entire or razed to the ground, it appears to have been an encumbrance, for on October 28th, in the year of its surrender, it was granted by the King, “with all and singular its manors, lordships, and messuages, etc.,” to Richard Pollard, Esq.
At the time of its dissolution the annual revenues of the Abbey were computed at £374 10s. 6¼d. by Dugdale, and at £381 10s. 6d. by Speed, and the net revenue was, no doubt, somewhere between these two sums.
Born probably at Tracy, near Awliscombe, Honiton, about the year 1470, Thomas Chard was one of the most distinguished ecclesiastics of his day, and evidently, as his works attest, an accomplished architect and a most munificent man. The highly ornamental façade of the institution over which he presided as last abbot is considered to be the finest example of its kind in the West of England. On entering holy orders, Chard appears to have held several livings in Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, and was elected Abbot of Ford about 1520. Previous to this, in 1508, he was appointed Suffragan to Bishop Oldham by the title “Episcopus Solubricencis,” in 1513 Warden of the College of Lady St. Mary, at Ottery, and in 1515 Prior of the Benedictine or Cluniac Priory of Montacute. It has been suggested that as Dr. Chard was Warden of Ottery College about the time that the beautiful Dorset Chapel was built (1513-18)—one of the most lovely pieces of Perpendicular building we possess—the inspiration of this eminent architect may have done much to influence the splendid design of this portion of the Church of Lady St. Mary at Ottery.
It was Bishop Chard who officiated for Bishop Veysey, of Exeter, at the noble obsequies of Katherine Courtenay, daughter of Edward IV., and widow of William Courtenay, Earl of Devon, buried at Tiverton in 1527. It is thought that his choice for this office was determined by his headship of the Monastery of Ford, of which foundation the Courtenays had always been great patrons and benefactors.
The burial place of Thomas Chard is unknown, but may possibly be in the chapel of the Hospital of St. Margaret, near Honiton. Dr. Oliver, who visited this chapel many years ago, writes: “The west door is secured by a large sepulchral slab, to which was formerly affixed a brass plate.” This has long since disappeared, but many writers agree that there is little doubt that this slab covered the dust of the Abbot-Bishop.
The old abbey seal,[48] which had eluded the research of many antiquaries, including the editors of Dugdale’s _Monasticon_, was discovered by Mr. Davidson, of Sector, near Axminster. It is of oval form, the usual shape for monastic seals, and is divided into three compartments, in the uppermost of which is a bell suspended in a steeple, and in the canopy beneath we see the Blessed Virgin with the Divine Infant on her knee. On one side is the shield of Courtenay, bearing—_or_, three torteaux, with a label of three points. On the other side is the shield of Beaumont—barry of six, _vair_ and _gules_. The lowest compartment occupies rather more than half the seal inside the inscription, and shows an abbot standing, in his right hand a pastoral staff, and holding in his left hand a book; and at his feet are three monks kneeling, with their hands together in supplication.
With this description of the seal the claims of Ford Abbey to figure in this volume of “Memorials” are practically finished, yet it may be of interest to continue a little further in the personal and architectural history of this wonderful old house. As we have seen, Henry VIII. granted the abbey and all its appurtenances to Richard Pollard, Esq., who was subsequently knighted by Henry VIII., and from this gentleman it passed to his son, Sir John Pollard, who sold it to his cousin, Sir Amias Poulett, of Hinton St. George, and Curry Mallet, who had held the office of head steward of the abbey under the _régime_ of Dr. Chard (as had his father, Sir Hugh Poulett, before him), and who was for a short time the custodian of Mary Queen of Scots. From Sir Amias Poulett, the abbey and estates passed by purchase to William Rosewell, Esq., Solicitor-General to Queen Elizabeth, and thence to his son, Sir Henry Rosewell, who, in 1649, conveyed them to Sir Edmund Prideaux, Bart., of Netherton, county Devon. He was educated at Cambridge, and after being admitted a student of the Inner Temple was called to the Bar, 23rd November, 1623. He was returned as Burgess for Lyme Regis and took part against the King. He appears to have been a man of marked abilities, as in 1643 we find him appointed one of the Commissioners of the Great Seal, and three years later he was granted the privileges of a King’s Counsel, the combined offices being worth some £7,000 a year. It is somewhat singular that, while holding the first-named office he was allowed to retain his seat in Parliament, and when he relinquished the Great Seal, the House of Commons, as an acknowledgment of his valuable services, ordered that he should practise within the Bar, and have precedence next after the Solicitor-General, to which office he himself was raised in 1647. Although attached to the Parliamentary cause he took no part in the King’s trial, nor in the trials of the Duke of Hamilton and others. Nevertheless, he shortly afterwards accepted from the dominant party the office of Attorney-General, a post which he retained for the remainder of his life. His remarkable organising abilities were shown in 1649, when, as Master of the Post Messengers and Carriers, a post he had acquired in 1644, he established a weekly conveyance to every part of the kingdom, a great improvement on the system he had found in vogue, and under which letters were sent by special messengers, one of whose duties it was to supply relays of horses at a given mileage. It is said that the emoluments accruing to his private purse from this improved postal service were not less than £15,000 a year. Sir Edmund was twice married, and by his first wife Jane, daughter and sole heiress of Henry Collins, Esq., of Ottery St. Mary, he had a daughter Mary. His second wife was Margaret, daughter and co-heir of William Ivery, of Cotthay, Somerset, and by her he had three daughters, and a son Edmund, who succeeded him at Ford Abbey. It was Sir Edmund Prideaux who brought Inigo Jones to the Abbey to carry out certain alterations, which he did by inserting square-headed windows in the walls of the state rooms, and by adding these and other classical affectations on to the old Gothic building he destroyed the harmonious composition of the whole, and it is not, perhaps, a matter of regret that this architect died in 1654, before his designs for converting this fine old house into a sham “classical” building were carried out, although the interior of the house was embellished with magnificent decorations and the whole place made into a beautiful, comfortable, and habitable mansion.
Edmund Prideaux, the younger, had for his tutor John Tillotson, who afterwards became Archbishop of Canterbury. Although he took but little part in the grave political troubles of his day, he is remembered in history as the entertainer of the ill-starred Duke of Monmouth, who visited Ford in 1680, on his journey of pleasure to the west country, where he was royally entertained by his host, whose connection with his noble guest did not end here, as after the Rye House affair he was suspected of favouring the Duke, and the house was searched for arms. When the Duke subsequently landed at Lyme Regis in 1685, Mr. Prideaux, like a prudent man, remained quietly at home, but was visited at night by a small party of rebels requiring horses, and it is said that one of them while in the house drank to the health of Monmouth, which indiscretion becoming known in London, a warrant was issued for Mr. Prideaux’s arrest, and he was taken to the Tower on a charge of high treason. Notwithstanding that nothing could be proved against him, he was kept a close prisoner until he had paid the sum of £15,000 to the infamous Jeffreys, when his pardon was signed on March 20th, 1685. On the accession of William III. he petitioned Parliament for leave to bring in a Bill to charge the estates of Jeffreys with the restitution of this money, but the Act failed to pass.
The sole surviving daughter of Edmund Prideaux (and his wife, Amy Fraunceis), in 1690, married her cousin, Francis Gwyn, Esq., of Llansandr, co. Glamorgan, who thus inherited Ford Abbey, and was succeeded in the estates by his fourth son, Francis Gwyn, who, dying without issue in 1777, devised this house and all his other lands to his kinsman, John Fraunceis, or Francis, of Combe-Florey, on condition of his taking the name of Gwyn, and in this family the Abbey remained until the decease of a John Francis Gwyn, in 1846, when it was purchased by G. F. W. Miles, Esq., and afterwards by Miss Evans. It is now the property of Mrs. Freeman Roper. The famous Jeremy Bentham rented the abbey early in the nineteenth century and here he entertained James Mill and other social and literary magnates. One of the numerous Francis Gwyns was Queen Anne’s Secretary for War, and to him Her Majesty presented the magnificent tapestries now hung in the saloon. They are worked from original cartoons by Raphael, said to have been designed at the request of Pope Leo. Charles I. is said to have purchased the cartoons on the advice of Rubens, and to have removed them from Brussels in 1630. They were first placed, it is thought, at Whitehall, and William III. had them hung at Hampton Court Palace, where they remained until 1865, when they were taken to their present home, the Victoria and Albert Museum. These designs were the property of His Majesty King Edward VII., who has, I think, recently bequeathed them to the nation.
It was in 1842 that, for the convenience of county business, the parish of Thorncombe, containing Ford Abbey, was transferred to the county of Dorset.
DORCHESTER[49]
BY THE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM, D.D.
If Bede is right, the Roman armies did not leave our shores till A.D. 452. Whether it was then, so near the end of the old Western Empire, or a little earlier, it must have been a dark hour for Dorset, which no doubt saw something of the embarkation; some considerable force, in that strict order which to the last the legions maintained, would no doubt march from Durnovaria to Clavinio (Weymouth) to take ship. The light of history falls faint over Dorset and Dorchester for many a year from that Roman exodus. But it is interesting to find that the “Saxons,” to use the familiar term, took a century and a half to master Dorset; our fathers must have made a stubborn fight against endless raids. It is at least possible that the victory of Badon Hill—in which, says the Arthurian legend, the Saxon hordes were ruinously beaten by the “Britons,” led perhaps by a Rome-trained chief—was won in Dorset; Badbury, near Wimborne, in the belief of Edwin Guest of Cambridge, was Badon. But Wessex in due time absorbed Dorset and Dorchester; and now our fields and woodlands were well sprinkled with royal manors, while our town, beyond a doubt, still kept much of its old dignity and culture; for the Saxons left the walled cities largely alone, after disarming their inhabitants. Durnovaria, with its name changed to Dorceastre, still stood fenced with its massive wall and still contained many a stately house, tessellated and frescoed. Kings of Wessex doubtless visited Dorset often, for the chase, and for sustenance on their manors, and to keep state at Dorceastre. Alfred, in all likelihood, was known by sight in the town. His grandson, Athelstan, allowed it the right of coinage—a sure testimony to its importance.
It suffered sorely from the Danes a century later. Sweyn, in 1002, taking awful revenge for the massacre wrought by Ethelred the “Unredy”—that is to say, the “Counsel-less”—marched from Devon to Wilts by Dorset, and left Dorchester a desolation. It is said that he tore down the walls, but this, almost for certain, was not so; they were too massive to be wrecked without long labour, which the rovers would not care to spend; and there is large evidence for their existence far into the seventeenth century. However, Danish fire and sword must have left the town black and blood-stained within its ramparts. Half a century later, under the Confessor, Dorchester counted 172 houses; the number is recorded in _Domesday Book_ (1085-6) as large, in contrast to the eighty-eight at the date of the survey. Very likely the building of the Norman Castle (where now stands the Prison) had to do with the shrinkage; the castle was sure to be a centre of spoliation.
The restless John was in the town in 1201, and often later—hunting, no doubt, and taking his “one night’s firm,” the statutable sustenance due to the King and his men. Under Edward I., in 1295, we sent burgesses to the first English Parliament. Our last burgess sat from 1874 till 1885. Dorchester is now only the centre of an electoral division.
In that same reign appears the first mention of our town churches: Holy Trinity, St. Peter’s, and All Saints’. Not that the parishes are no older than that date; indeed, the porch of St. Peter’s contains a twelfth century fragment.
The reign of Edward III. experienced the terror of the Great Plague, carried from China over Asia to Europe, where literally millions of people perished. It burst into England, alas! from a ship which put in at the Dorset shore, and no doubt our town owed to that awful scourge the low state of industry recorded a little later. Things had mended by the time of Henry VI., and from then, upon the whole, the place has been prosperous. In the seventeenth century it was busy with cloth-making and, as now, with the brewing of beer. In the old times of farming it was a great centre of grain commerce. Stories are told of Dorchester fair-days, when wheat-laden wagons stood ranged in long file from Cornhill, along South Street, and far out upon the Weymouth road.
The town had its troubles in “the great century.” In August, 1613, a fierce fire swept it almost clean away. The old churches of Trinity and All Saints vanished, with nearly every other building within the walls (and some outside their circuit, in Fordington), save only St. Peter’s and the houses near it—among which would be that now almost solitary relic of picturesque Old Dorchester, “Jeffreys’ lodgings.”
But the rebuilding must have been energetic, for in the Civil Wars we find Dorchester populous and active enough to be a troublesome focus of “malignity.” “A place more entirely disaffected to the King, England had not,” says Clarendon. One probable cause of this attitude lay in the commanding influence of John White, Rector of Holy Trinity from 1606 to 1648. White was an Oxonian, a man of culture and piety, and evidently of strong personal influence. Preachers to-day may envy, if they please, the pulpit privileges given him by the town. The borough records show, for example, that in 1630 one Nycholls was brought to justice for having “offered speeche concerning Mr. John White’s preaching.” White helped to plan the colony of Massachusetts, but he did not join the emigration. His power was felt at home, in the Westminster Assembly, and in the politics of Dorchester.
In 1642 the walls were solidly repaired, and outside works thrown up at, among other points, Maumbury Ring. Watch was kept day and night at the gates and on St. Peter’s Tower. But the spirit of the town strangely failed when, on the approach of the enemy, one Master Strode predicted that the walls would hold off the King’s men for just half-an-hour. The Governor, Sir Walter Erle, hearing that Lord Carnarvon was coming with two thousand men, and Prince Maurice’s artillery besides, promptly left the place, and the citizens opened the gates on a promise that they should be spared violence. Carnarvon would have kept the promise with chivalrous fidelity, but Maurice let his men loose, and Dorchester was so badly handled that Carnarvon threw up his command and went to serve the King in person. A little later the town behaved much more bravely, and baffled a small Irish force under Lord Inchiquin till help from Weymouth completed the rout of the Royalists. Later again Essex occupied the town in force; and then Sir Lewis Dives, for the King, surprised it with brilliant success, but was badly beaten on a second attempt. Yet later there was a skirmish at Dorchester, when the royalist _Mercurius_ says that no less a captain than Cromwell himself was put to flight by Lord Goring; but the account lacks full confirmation. A story of that skirmish clings to a corner of lower Fordington, a curve in the road near Grey’s Bridge, known as Tupp’s, or Tubb’s, Corner; it is said that a Cromwellian hero of that name fled thereby at a speed memorable for all time.