Transcriber’s Note:
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This e-text is based on the 1908 edition of the book. Minor
punctuation errors have been tacitly corrected. Inconsistencies
in hyphenation and spelling, such as ‘ale-house’/‘alehouse’ and
‘Mary Wilcocks’/‘Mary Willcocks,’ have been retained. The asterism
symbols in the book catalogue at the end of this text have been
inverted for presentation on electronic media.
The following passage has been corrected:
# p. 126: ‘1852’ → ‘1825’
# p. 685: ‘fro mthe’ → ‘from the’
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DEVONSHIRE CHARACTERS
AND STRANGE EVENTS
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
YORKSHIRE ODDITIES
TRAGEDY OF THE CÆSARS
CURIOUS MYTHS
LIVES OF THE SAINTS
ETC. ETC.
[Illustration:
_G. Clint, A.R.A., pinxt._ _Thos. Lupton. sculpt._
MARIA FOOTE, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS OF HARRINGTON, AS MARIA DARLINGTON IN
THE FARCE OF “A ROWLAND FOR AN OLIVER” (1824)]
DEVONSHIRE
CHARACTERS
AND STRANGE EVENTS
BY S. BARING-GOULD, /M.A./
WITH 55 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
REPRODUCED FROM OLD PRINTS, ETC.
O Jupiter!
Hanccine vitam? hoscine mores? hanc dementiam?
/Terence/, _Adelphi_ (Act IV).
LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMVIII
PLYMOUTH: WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LIMITED, PRINTERS
PREFACE
In treating of Devonshire Characters, I have had to put aside the chief
Worthies and those Devonians famous in history, as George Duke of
Albemarle, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake, Sir Joshua Reynolds,
the Coleridges, Sir Stafford Northcote, first Earl of Iddesleigh, and
many another; and to content myself with those who lie on a lower
plane. So also I have had to set aside several remarkable characters,
whose lives I have given elsewhere, as the Herrings of Langstone (whom
I have called Grym or Grymstone) and Madame Drake, George Spurle the
Post-boy, etc. Also I have had to pretermit several great rascals,
as Thomas Gray and Nicholas Horner. But even so, I find an _embarras
de richesses_, and have had to content myself with such as have had
careers of some general interest. Moreover, it has not been possible to
say all that might have been said relative to these, so as to economize
space, and afford room for others.
So also, with regard to strange incidents, some limitation has been
necessary, and such have been selected as are less generally known.
I have to thank the kind help of many Devonshire friends for the
loan of rare pamphlets, portraits, or for information not otherwise
acquirable--as the Earl of Iddesleigh, Lady Rosamond Christie, Mrs.
Chichester of Hall, Mrs. Ford of Pencarrow, Dr. Linnington Ash, Dr.
Brushfield, Capt. Pentecost, Miss M. P. Willcocks, Mr. Andrew Iredale,
Mr. W. H. K. Wright, Mr. A. B. Collier, Mr. Charles T. Harbeck, Mr.
H. Tapley Soper, Miss Lega-Weekes, who has contributed the article
on Richard Weekes; Mrs. G. Radford, Mr. R. Pearse Chope, Mr. Rennie
Manderson, Mr. M. Bawden, the Rev. J. B. Wollocombe, the Rev. W. H.
Thornton, Mr. A. M. Broadley, Mr. Samuel Gillespie Prout, Mr. S. H.
Slade, Mr. W. Fleming, Mrs. A. H. Wilson, Fleet-Surgeon Lloyd Thomas,
the Rev. W. T. Wellacott, Mr. S. Raby, Mr. Samuel Harper, Mr. John
Avery, Mr. Thomas Wainwright, Mr. A. F. Steuart, Mr. S. T. Whiteford,
and last, but not least, Mr. John Lane, the publisher of this volume,
who has taken the liveliest interest in its production.
Also to Messrs. Macmillan for kindly allowing the use of an engraving
of Newcomen’s steam engine, and to Messrs. Vinton & Co. for allowing
the use of the portrait of the Rev. John Russell that appeared in
_Bailey’s Magazine_.
I am likewise indebted to Miss M. Windeatt Roberts for having
undertaken to prepare the exhaustive Index, and to Mr. J. G. Commin for
placing at my disposal many rare illustrations.
For myself I may say that it has been a labour of love to grope among
the characters and incidents of the past in my own county, and with
Cordatus, in the Introduction to Ben Jonson’s _Every Man out of his
Humour_, I may say that it has been “a work that hath bounteously
pleased me; how it will answer the general expectation, I know not.”
* * * * *
I am desired by my publisher to state that he will be glad to
receive any information as to the whereabouts of pictures by another
“Devonshire Character,” James Gandy, born at Exeter in 1619, and a
pupil of Vandyck. He was retained in the service of the Duke of Ormond,
whom he accompanied to Ireland, where he died in 1689. It is said that
his chief works will be found in that country and the West of England.
Jackson of Exeter, in his volume _The Four Ages_, says: “About the
beginning of the eighteenth century was a painter in Exeter called
Gandy, of whose colouring Sir Joshua Reynolds thought highly. I heard
him say that on his return from Italy, when he was fresh from seeing
the pictures of the Venetian school, he again looked at the works of
Gandy, and that they had lost nothing in his estimation. There are many
pictures of this artist in Exeter and its neighbourhood. The portrait
Sir Joshua seemed most to value is in the Hall belonging to the College
of Vicars in that city, but I have seen some very much superior to it.”
Since then, however, the original picture has been taken from the
College of Vicars, and has been lost; but a copy, I believe, is still
exhibited there, and no one seems to know what has become of the
original.
Not only is Mr. Lane anxious to trace this picture, but any others in
Devon or Ireland, as also letters, documents, or references to this
artist and his work.
CONTENTS
PAGE
/Hugh Stafford and the Royal Wilding/ 1
/The Alphington Ponies/ 16
/Maria Foote/ 21
/Caraboo/ 35
/John Arscott, of Tetcott/ 47
/Wife-sales/ 58
/White Witches/ 70
/Manly Peeke/ 84
/Eulalia Page/ 95
/James Wyatt/ 107
/The Rev. W. Davy/ 123
/The Grey Woman/ 128
/Robert Lyde and the “Friend’s Adventure”/ 136
/Joseph Pitts/ 152
/The Demon of Spreyton/ 170
/Tom Austin/ 175
/Frances Flood/ 177
/Sir William Hankford/ 181
/Sir John Fitz/ 185
/Lady Howard/ 194
/The Bidlakes, of Bidlake/ 212
/The Pirates of Lundy/ 224
/Tom D’Urfey/ 238
/The Bird of the Oxenhams/ 248
/“Lusty” Stucley/ 262
/The Bideford Witches/ 274
/Sir “Judas” Stukeley/ 278
/The Sampford Ghost/ 286
/Philippa Cary and Anne Evans/ 292
/Jack Rattenbury/ 301
/John Barnes, Taverner and Highwayman/ 320
/Edward Capern/ 325
/George Medyett Goodridge/ 332
/John Davy/ 351
/Richard Parker, the Mutineer/ 355
/Benjamin Kennicott/, /D.D./ 369
/Captain John Avery/ 375
/Joanna Southcott/ 390
/The Stoke Resurrectionists/ 405
/“The Beggars’ Opera” and Gay’s Chair/ 414
/Bampfylde-Moore Carew/ 425
/William Gifford/ 436
/Benjamin R. Haydon/ 457
/John Cooke/ 478
/Savery and Newcomen, Inventors/ 487
/Andrew Brice, Printer/ 502
/Devonshire Wrestlers/ 514
/Two Hunting Parsons/ 529
/Samuel Prout/ 564
/Fontelautus/ 581
/William Lang, of Bradworthy/ 594
/William Cookworthy/ 600
/William Jackson, Organist/ 608
/John Dunning, First Lord Ashburton/ 618
/Governor Shortland and the Princetown Massacre/ 633
/Captain John Palk/ 700
/Richard Weekes, Gentleman at Arms and Prisoner in the Fleet/ 709
/Steer Nor’-West/ 718
/George Peele/ 726
/Peter Pindar/ 737
/Dr. J. W. Budd/ 754
/Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Chichester, Bart./ 772
ILLUSTRATIONS
/Maria Foote, afterwards Countess of
Harrington/ _Frontispiece_
From an engraving by Thomas Lupton, after a picture by
G. Clint, /A.R.A./
to face page
/Hugh Stafford/ 2
From the original painting in the collection of the
Earl of Iddesleigh
/The Roasted Exciseman, or the Jack Boot’s Exit/ 4
From an old print
/The Tyburn Interview: a New Song/ 8
By a Cyder Merchant, of South-Ham, Devonshire.
Dedicated to Jack Ketch
/The Misses Durnford. The Alphington Ponies/ 16
From a lithograph
/The Misses Durnford. The Alphington Ponies/
(Back View) 18
Lithographed by P. Gauci. Pub. Ed. Cockrem
/Maria Foote, afterwards Countess of Harrington/ 22
From an engraved portrait in the collection of A. M.
Broadley, Esq.
/Caraboo, Princess of Javasu,/ _alias_ /Mary Baker/ 36
From an engraving by Henry Meyer, after a picture by E.
Bird
/Mary Wilcocks, of Witheridge, Devonshire,/ _alias_
/Caraboo/ 44
Drawn and engraved by N. Branwhite
/Arscott of Tetcott/ 48
From the picture by J. Northcote, /R.A./
/Old Tetcott House/ 54
/Mariann Voaden, Bratton/ 74
/Mariann Voaden’s Cottage, Bratton/ 74
/A Village “Wise Man”/ 78
/Manly Peeke in his Encounter with Three Adversaries
Armed with Rapiers and Poignards/ 90
/James Wyat/, /ÆTAT./ 40 108
Reproduced from the frontispiece to _The Life and
Surprizing Adventures of James Wyatt, Written by
Himself_, 1755
/Rev. W. Davy/ 124
From an engraving by R. Cooper, after a picture by Wm.
Sharland
/Slanning’s Oak/ 188
From an oil painting by A. B. Collier, 1855
/Frontispiece to “The Bloudie Booke; or the Tragical
End of Sir John Fitz”/ 192
/Lady Howard/ 194
/Bidlake/ 212
/Thomas D’Urfey/ 238
From an engraving by G. Virtue, after a picture by E.
Gouge
/Frontispiece to “A True Relation of an Apparition,”
etc., by James Oxenham/ 248
/John Rattenbury, of Beer, Devonshire, “The Rob Roy of
the West”/ 302
From a lithograph
/Edward Capern, the Postman-Poet of Devonshire/ 326
From a painting by William Widgery, in the Free
Library, Bideford
/Charles Medyett Goodridge in his Seal-skin Dress/ 332
/Richard Parker/ 356
From a drawing by Bailey
/B. Kennicott/, /S.T.P./ 370
From the portrait at Exeter College, Oxford
/Captain Avery and his Crew taking one of the Great
Mogul’s Ships/ 376
From a drawing by Wm. Jeit
/Joanna Southcott/ 390
Drawn from life by Wm. Sharp
/Silver Pap-boat prepared for the Coming of Shiloh,
presented to Joanna Southcott in June, 1814/ 402
From the original in the collection of A. M. Broadley,
Esq.
/Crib presented to Joanna Southcott in anticipation
of the Birth of the Shiloh by Believers in her Divine
Mission as “A Goodwill Offering by Faith to the
Promised Seed”/ 402
Reproduced from the original print in the collection of
A. M. Broadley, Esq.
/Mr. Gay/ 414
From an old print
/The Grammar School, Barnstaple, where Gay was
Educated/ 416
/Gay’s Chair/ 422
/Bampfylde Moore Carew, “King of the Beggars”/ 426
From an engraving by Maddocks
/W. Gifford/ 436
From an engraving by R. H. Cromek, after a picture by
I. Hoppner, /R.A./
/B. R. Haydon/ 458
From a drawing by David Wilkie
/Captain Cooke, 1824, aged 58/ 478
Drawn, from nature, on the stone by N. Whittock
/The Noted John Cooke of Exeter, Captain of the
Sheriff’s Troop at Seventy-four Assizes for the County
of Devon/ 482
From a lithograph by Geo. Rowe
/Thomas Savery/ 488
/Sketch of Newcomen’s House, Lower Street, Dartmouth,
before it was demolished/ 494
/The Chimney-piece at which Newcomen sat when he
Invented the Steam Engine/ 494
/The Steam Engine, near Dudley Castle./ Invented by
Capt. Savery and Mr. Newcomen. Erected by y^e later,
1712 496
From a drawing by Barney. Reproduced by kind permission
of Messrs. Macmillan & Co.
/Andrew Brice, Printer/ 502
Reproduced by kind permission from a print in the
possession of Dr. Brushfield
/The Wrestling Champion of England, Abraham Cann/ 518
From a drawing
/Rev. John Russell/ 530
Reproduced by permission of the Editor of _Bailey’s
Magazine_
/The Rev. John Russell’s Port-wine Glass, Chamberlain
Worcester Breakfast Service, and Barometer/ 558
Purchased at the sale of his effects in 1883 by Mrs.
Arnull and presented by her to Mr. John Lane, in whose
possession they now are
/Samuel Prout/ 564
From a drawing in the possession of Samuel Gillespie
Prout, Esq.
/William Cookworthy of Plymouth/ 600
From the original portrait by Opie in the possession of
Edward Harrison, Esq., of Watford
/Mr. Jackson, the Celebrated Composer/ 608
From an engraving after J. Walker
/Lord Ashburton/ 618
From an engraving by F. Bartolozzi, after a picture by
Sir Joshua Reynolds
/Horrid Massacre at Dartmoor Prison, England/ 648
From an old print
/Plan of Dartmoor Prison/ 650
/North Wyke/ 710
/Dr. Wolcot/ 738
/Dr. John W. Budd/ 754
From a photograph by his brother Dr. Richard Budd, of
Barnstaple
/Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Chichester, Bart./ 772
DEVONSHIRE CHARACTERS AND STRANGE EVENTS
HUGH STAFFORD AND THE ROYAL WILDING
Hugh Stafford, Esq., of Pynes, born 1674, was the last of the Staffords
of Pynes. His daughter, Bridget Maria, carried the estate to her
husband, Sir Henry Northcote, Bart., from whom is descended the present
Earl of Iddesleigh. Hugh Stafford died in 1734. He is noted as an
enthusiastic apple-grower and lover of cyder.
He wrote a “Dissertation on Cyder and Cyder-Fruit” in a letter to a
friend in 1727, but this was not published till 1753, and a second
edition in 1769. The family of Stafford was originally Stowford, of
Stowford, in the parish of Dolton. The name changed to Stoford and
then to Stafford. One branch married into the family of Wollocombe,
of Wollocombe. But the name of Stowford or Stafford was not the most
ancient designation of the family, which was Kelloway, and bore as its
arms four pears. The last Stafford turned from pears to apples, to
which he devoted his attention and became a connoisseur not in apples
only, but in the qualities of cyder as already intimated.
To a branch of this family belonged Sir John Stowford, Lord Chief Baron
in the reign of Edward III, who built Pilton Bridge over the little
stream of the Yeo or Yaw, up which the tide flows, and over which the
passage was occasionally dangerous. The story goes that the judge one
day saw a poor market woman with her child on a mudbank in the stream
crying for aid, which none could afford her, caught and drowned by the
rising flood, whereupon he vowed to build the bridge to prevent further
accident. The rhyme ran:--
Yet Barnstaple, graced though thou be by brackish Taw,
In all thy glory see that thou not forget the little Yaw.
Camden asserts that Judge Stowford also constructed the long bridge
over the Taw consisting of sixteen piers. Tradition will have it,
however, that towards the building of this latter two spinster ladies
(sisters) contributed by the profits of their distaffs and the pennies
they earned by keeping a little school.
I was travelling on the South Devon line some years ago after there
had been a Church Congress at Plymouth, and in the same carriage with
me were some London reporters. Said one of these gentry to another:
“Did you ever see anything like Devonshire parsons and pious ladies?
They were munching apples all the time that the speeches were being
made. Honour was being done to the admirable fruit by these worthy
Devonians. I was dotting down my notes during an eloquent harangue on
‘How to Bring Religion to Bear upon the People’ when chump, chump went
a parson on my left; and the snapping of jaws on apples, rending off
shreds for mastication, punctuated the periods of a bishop who spoke
next. At an ensuing meeting on the ‘Deepening of Personal Religion’
my neighbour was munching a Cornish gilliflower, which he informed me
in taste and aroma surpassed every other apple. I asked in a low tone
whether Devonshire people did not peel their fruit before eating. He
answered _leni susurro_ that the flavour was in the rind.”
[Illustration: HUGH STAFFORD
_From the original painting in the collection of the Earl of
Iddesleigh_]
Cyder was anciently the main drink of the country people in the West of
England. Every old farmhouse had its granite trough (circular) in which
rolled a stone wheel that pounded the fruit to a “pummice,” and the
juice flowed away through a lip into a keeve. Now, neglected and cast
aside, may be seen the huge masses of stone with an iron crook fastened
in them, which in the earliest stage of cyder-making were employed for
pressing the fruit into pummice. But these weights were superseded by
the screw-press that extracted more of the juice.
In 1763 Lord Bute, the Prime Minister, imposed a tax of 10s. per
hogshead on cyder and perry, to be paid by the first buyer. The
country gentlemen, without reference to party, were violent in their
opposition, and Bute then condescended to reduce the sum and the mode
of levying it, proposing 4s. per hogshead, to be paid, not by the first
buyer, but by the grower, who was to be made liable to the regulations
of the excise and the domiciliary visits of excisemen. Pitt thundered
against this cyder Bill, inveighing against the intrusion of excise
officers into private dwellings, quoting the old proud maxim, that
every Englishman’s house was his castle, and showing the hardship
of rendering every country gentleman, every individual that owned a
few fruit trees and made a little cyder, liable to have his premises
invaded by officers. The City of London petitioned the Commons, the
Lords, the throne, against the Bill; in the House of Lords forty-nine
peers divided against the Minister; the cities of Exeter and Worcester,
the counties of Devonshire and Herefordshire, more nearly concerned in
the question about cyder than the City of London, followed the example
of the capital, and implored their representatives to resist the tax
to the utmost; and an indignant and general threat was made that the
apples should be suffered to fall and rot under the trees rather than
be made into cyder, subject to such a duty and such annoyances. No
fiscal question had raised such a tempest since Sir Robert Walpole’s
Excise Bill in 1733. But Walpole, in the plenitude of his power and
abilities, and with wondrous resources at command, was constrained to
bow to the storm he had roused, and to shelve his scheme. Bute, on
the other hand, with a power that lasted but a day, with a position
already undermined, with slender abilities and no resources, but with
Scotch stubbornness, was resolved that his Bill should pass. And it
passed, with all its imperfections; and although there were different
sorts of cyder, varying in price from 5s. to 50s. per hogshead, they
were all taxed alike--the poor man having thus to pay as heavy a duty
for his thin beverage as the affluent man paid for the choicest kind.
The agitation against Lord Bute grew. In some rural districts he was
burnt under the effigy of a _jack-boot_, a rustic allusion to his name
(Bute); and on more than one occasion when he walked the streets he was
accused of being surrounded by prize-fighters to protect him against
the violence of the mob. Numerous squibs, caricatures, and pamphlets
appeared. He was represented as hung on the gallows above a fire, in
which a jack-boot fed the flames and a farmer was throwing an excised
cyder-barrel into the conflagration, whilst a Scotchman, in Highland
costume, in the background, commented, “It’s aw over with us now, and
aw our aspiring hopes are gone”; whilst an English mob advanced waving
the banners of Magna Charta, and “Liberty, Property, and No Excise.”
[Illustration: The ROASTED EXCISEMAN
or
The JACK BOOT’S EXIT.]
I give one of the ballads printed on this occasion: it is entitled,
“The Scotch Yoke, and English Resentment. To the tune of _The Queen’s
Ass_.”
Of Freedom no longer let Englishmen boast,
Nor Liberty more be their favourite Toast;
The Hydra Oppression your Charta defies,
And galls English Necks with the Yoke of Excise,
The Yoke of Excise, the Yoke of Excise,
And galls English Necks with the Yoke of Excise.
In vain have you conquer’d, my brave Hearts of Oak,
Your Laurels, your Conquests are all but a Joke;
Let a rascally Peace serve to open your Eyes,
And the d--nable Scheme of a Cyder-Excise,
A Cyder-Excise, etc.
What though on your Porter a Duty was laid,
Your Light double-tax’d, and encroach’d on your Trade;
Who e’er could have thought that a Briton so wise
Would admit such a Tax as the Cyder-Excise,
The Cyder-Excise, etc.
I appeal to the Fox, or his Friend John a-Boot,
If tax’d thus the Juice, then how soon may the Fruit?
Adieu then to good Apple-puddings and Pyes,
If e’er they should taste of a cursed Excise,
A cursed Excise, etc.
Let those at the Helm, who have sought to enslave
A Nation so glorious, a People so brave,
At once be convinced that their Scheme you despise,
And shed your last Blood to oppose the Excise,
Oppose the Excise, etc.
Come on then, my Lads, who have fought and have bled,
A Tax may, perhaps, soon be laid on your Bread;
Ye Natives of Worc’ster and Devon arise,
And strike at the Root of the Cyder-Excise,
The Cyder-Excise, etc.
No longer let K--s at the H--m of the St--e,
With fleecing and grinding pursue Britain’s Fate;
Let Power no longer your Wishes disguise,
But off with their Heads--by the Way of Excise,
The Way of Excise, etc.
From two Latin words, _ex_ and _scindo_, I ween,
Came the hard Word Excise, which to _Cut off_ does mean.
Take the Hint then, my Lads, let your Freedom advise,
And give them a Taste of their fav’rite Excise,
Their fav’rite Excise, etc.
Then toss off your Bumpers, my Lads, while you may,
To Pitt and Lord Temple, Huzza, Boys, huzza!
Here’s the King that to tax his poor Subjects denies,
But Pox o’ the Schemer that plann’d the Excise,
That plann’d the Excise, etc.
The apple trees were too many and too deep-rooted and too stout for the
Scotch thistle. The symptoms of popular dislike drove Bute to resign
(8 April, 1763), to the surprise of all. The duty, however, was not
repealed till 1830. In my _Book of the West_ (Devon), I have given an
account of cyder-making in the county, and I will not repeat it here.
But I may mention the curious Devonshire saying about Francemass, or
St. Franken Days. These are the 19th, 20th, and 21st May, at which time
very often a frost comes that injures the apple blossom. The story goes
that there was an Exeter brewer, of the name of Frankin, who found that
cyder ran his ale so hard that he vowed his soul to the devil on the
condition that his Satanic Majesty should send three frosty nights in
May annually to cut off the apple blossom.
And now to return to Hugh Stafford. He opens his letter with an account
of the origin of the Royal Wilding, one of the finest sorts of apple
for the making of choice cyder.
“Since you have seen the Royal Wilding apple, which is so very much
celebrated (and so deservedly) in our county, the history of its
being first taken notice of, which is fresh in everybody’s memory, may
not be unacceptable to you. The single and only tree from which the
apple was first propagated is very tall, fair, and stout; I believe
about twenty feet high. It stands in a very little quillet (as we call
it) of gardening, adjoining to the post-road that leads from Exeter
to Oakhampton, in the parish of St. Thomas, but near the borders of
another parish called Whitestone. A walk of a mile from Exeter will
gratify any one, who has curiosity, with the sight of it.
“It appears to be properly a wilding, that is, a tree raised from the
kernel of an apple, without having been grafted, and (which seems well
worth observing) has, in all probability, stood there much more than
seventy years, for two ancient persons of the parish of Whitestone,
who died several years since, each aged upwards of the number of years
before mentioned, declared, that when they were boys, probably twelve
or thirteen years of age, and first went the road, it was not only
growing there, but, what is worth notice, was as tall and stout as it
now appears, nor do there at this time appear any marks of decay upon
it that I could perceive.
“It is a very constant and plentiful bearer every other year, and then
usually produces apples enough to make one of our hogsheads of cyder,
which contains sixty-four gallons, and this was one occasion of its
being first taken notice of, and of its affording an history which, I
believe, no other tree ever did: For the little cot-house to which it
belongs, together with the little quillet in which it stands, being
several years since mortgaged for ten pounds, the fruit of this tree
alone, in a course of some years, freed the house and garden, and its
more valuable self, from that burden.
“Mr. Francis Oliver (a gentleman of the neighbourhood, and, if I
mistake not, the gentleman who had the mortgage just now mentioned) was
one of the first persons about Exeter that affected rough cyder, and,
for that reason, purchased the fruit of this tree every bearing year.
However, I cannot learn that he ever made cyder of it alone, but mix’d
with other apples, which added to the flavour of his cyder, in the
opinion of those who had a true relish for that liquor.
“Whether this, or any other consideration, brought on the more happy
experiment upon this apple, the Rev. Robert Wollocombe, Rector of
Whitestone, who used to amuse himself with a nursery, put on some heads
of this wilding; and in a few years after being in his nursery, about
March, a person came to him on some business, and feeling something
roll under his feet, took it up, and it proved one of those precious
apples, which Mr. Wollocombe receiving from him, finding it perfectly
sound after it had lain in the long stragle of the nursery during all
the rain, frost, and snow of the foregoing winter, thought it must be
a fruit of more than common value; and having tasted it, found the
juices, not only in a most perfect soundness and quickness, but such
likewise as seemed to promise a body, as well as the roughness and
flavour that the wise cyder drinkers in Devon now begin to desire.
He observed the graft from which it had fallen, and searching about
found some more of the apples, and all of the same soundness; upon
which, without hesitation, he resolved to graft a greater quantity of
them, which he accordingly did; but waited with impatience for the
experiment, which you know must be the work of some years. They came at
length, and his just reward was a barrel of the juice, which, though
it was small, was of great value for its excellency, and far exceeded
all his expectations.
[Illustration]
The _TYBURN_ INTERVIEW: A New SONG.
By a /Cyder Merchant/, of South-Ham, Devonshire.
Dedicated to _JACK KETCH_.
To the Tune _A Cobler there was_, &c.
As Sawney from _Tweed_ was a trudging to Town,
To rest his tir’d Limbs on the Grass he sat down;
When growsing his Oatmeal, he turn’d up his Eyes,
And kenn’d a strange Pile on three Pillars arise.
_Derry down_, &c.
Amaz’d he starts up, “Thou Thing of odd Form,
That stand’st here defying each turbulent Storm;
What art thou? Thy Office declare at my Word,
Or thou shalt not escape this strong Arm and broad Sword.”
_Derry down_, &c.
Quoth the Structure, “Altho’ I’m not known unto thee,
Thy Countrymens Lives have been shorten’d by me;
To strike thee at once, know that _Tyburn’s_ my Name,
In _Scotland_, no doubt, you have heard of my Fame.
_Derry down_, &c.
When arm’d all rebellious, like Vultures you rose,
A Set of such Shahrags, you frighten’d the Crows;
To rid the tir’d land of such Vermin as you,
I groan’d with receiving but barely my Due.
_Derry down_, &c.
And still I’m in Hopes of another to come,
For _Tyburn_ will certain at last be his Home;
He’ll come from the Summit of Honour’s vast Height,
With a Star and a Garter to dubb me a Knight.”
_Derry down_, &c.
His Passion now _Sawney_ no more could contain,
“My Sword shall strait prove all thy Hopes are in vain”;
So saying; he brandish’d it high in the Air,
When strait a _Scotch_ Voice cry’d out--_Sawney_ forbear!
_Derry down_, &c.
The Phantom that spoke now appear’d in a trice,
And to the fear’d _Scotsman_ thus gave his Advice:
“Calm thy Breast that now boils with Vexation and Rage,
And let what I speak thy Attention engage.
_Derry down_, &c.
No longer with Fury pursue this old Tree,
His Back shall bear Vengeance for you and for me;
For know, my dear Friend, the Time is at Hand,
When with _Englishmen_, _Tyburn_ shall thin half the Land.
_Derry down_, &c.
The Case is revers’d by a good Friend of ours,
All Treason is _English_, and Loyalty yours:
Posts, Honour, and Profit all _Scotsmen_ await,
While the Natives shall tremble and curse their hard Fate.
_Derry down_, &c.
The War is no more, and each Soldier and Tar,
The Strength and the Bulwark of _England_ in War,
Are coming to prove our Friend’s deep Penetration,
As the first Sacrifice to our _Scotch Exaltation_.”
_Derry down_, &c.
Here ended the Phantom, and sunk in the Ground,
While the blue Flames of Hell glar’d terrible round;
When for _London_ young _Sawney_ around turn’d his Eyes,
Where he march’d for a Place in the _new-rais’d_ /Excise/.
_Derry down_, &c.
Ye National Schemers, come tell me, I pray,
Your Intention in this. _To bring more Scotch in play_!
For this must the Tax be enforc’d with all Speed,
For Thousands are coming between _here_ and _Tweed_.
_Derry down_, &c.
Ah! hapless _Old England_, no longer be merry,
Since _B--_ has thus tax’d your Beer, Cyder and Perry;
Look sullen and sad, for now this is done,
No doubt in short Time they’ll tax _Laughing_ and _Fun_.
_Derry down_, &c.
Yet let the Proud Laird, who presides at the Helm,
Extend his Excise to each Thing in the Realm:
A Tax on _Spring-Water_ I think would be right,
For _Water_, ’tis known, is as common as _Light_.
_Derry down_, &c.
_Meat_, _Butter_, and _Cheese_, “By my Saul that will do!
’Twill affect all the _Land_, and bring _Money_ in too;”
Proceed, my good Laird, and may the _H-lt-r_ or _A--e_,
Reward you for saying each _infamous_ T--x.
_Derry down_, &c.
“Mr. Wollocombe was not a little pleased with it, and talked of it
in all conversations; it created amusement at first, but when time
produced an hogshead of it, from raillery it came to seriousness, and
every one from laughter fell to admiration. In the meantime he had
thought of a name for his British wine, and as it appeared to be in the
original tree a fruit not grafted, it retained the name of a Wilding,
and as he thought it superior to all other apples, he gave it the title
of the Royal Wilding.
“This was about sixteen years since (i.e. about 1710). The gentlemen of
our county are now busy almost everywhere in promoting it, and some of
the wiser farmers. But we have not yet enough for sale. I have known
five guineas refused for one of our hogsheads of it, though the common
cyder sells for twenty shillings, and the South Ham for twenty-five to
thirty.
“I must add, that Mr. Wollocombe hath reserved some of them for hoard;
I have tasted the tarts of them, and they come nearer to the quince
than any other tart I ever eat of.
“Wherever it has been tried as yet, the juices are perfectly good
(but better in some soils than others), and when the gentlemen of the
South-Hams will condescend to give it a place in their orchards, they
will undoubtedly exceed us in this liquor, because we must yield to
them in the apple soil. But it is happy for us, that at present they
are so wrapt up in their own sufficiency, that they do not entertain
any thoughts of raising apples from us; and when they shall, it must be
another twenty years before they can do anything to the purpose, though
some of their thinking gentlemen, I am told, begin to get some of them
transported thither, (by night you may suppose, partly for shame and
partly for fear of being mobbed by their neighbours) and will, I am
well assured, much rejoice in the production.
“The colour of the Royal Wilding cyder, without any assistance from
art, is of a bright yellow, rather than a reddish beerish tincture;
its other qualities are a noble body, an excellent bitter, a delicate
(excuse the expression) roughness, and a fine vinous flavour. All the
other qualities you may meet with in some of the best South-Ham cyder,
but the last is peculiar to the White-Sour and the Royal Wilding only,
and you will in vain look for it in any other.”
Mr. Stafford goes on to speak of his second favourite, the White Sour
of the South Hams.
“The qualities of the juices are precisely the same with those of
the Royal Wilding, nay, so very near one to the other, that they are
perfectly rivals, and created such a contest, as is very uncommon,
and to which I was an eye-witness. A gentleman of the South-Hams,
whose White-Sour cyders, for the year, were very celebrated, (for our
cyder vintages, like those of clarets and ports, are very different
in different years) and had been drank of by another gentleman, who
was a happy possessor, an uncontested lord, _facile princeps_, of the
Royal Wilding, met at the house of the latter gentleman a year or two
after: the famed Royal Wilding, you may be sure, was produced, as
the best return for the White-Sour that had been tasted at the other
gentleman’s; and what was the effect? Each gentleman did not contend,
as is usual, that his was the best cyder; but such was the equilibrium
of the juices, and such the generosity of their breasts (for finer
gentlemen we have not in our country) that each affirmed his own
was the worst; the gentleman of the South-Hams declared in favour of
the Royal Wilding, and the gentleman of our parts in favour of the
White-Sour.”
As to the sweet cyder, Mr. Stafford despises it. “It may be acceptable
to a female, or a Londoner, it is ever offensive to a bold and generous
West Saxon,” says he.
Mr. Stafford flattered himself one year that he had beaten the Royal
Wilding. He had planted pips, and after many years brewed a pipe of the
apples of his wildings in 1724. Mr. Wollocombe was invited to taste
it. “The surprise (and even almost silence) with which he was seized
at first tasting it was plainly perceived by everyone present, and
occasioned no small diversion.” But, alas! after it was bottled this
“Super-Celestial,” as it had been named, as the year advanced, appeared
thin compared with the cyder of the Royal Wilding, and Hugh Stafford
was constrained after a first flush of triumph to allow that the Royal
Wilding maintained pre-eminence.
According to our author, the addition of a little sage or clary to
thin cyder gives it a taste as of a good Rhenish wine; and he advises
the crushing to powder of angelica roots to add to cyder, as is done
in Oporto by those who prepare port for the English market. It gives a
flavour and a bouquet truly delicious.
At the English Revolution, when William of Orange came to the throne,
the introduction of French wines into the country was prohibited, and
this gave a great impetus to the manufacture of cyder, and care in the
production of cyder of the best description. But the imposition of a
duty of ten shillings a hogshead on cyder that was not repealed, as
already said, till 1830, killed the industry. Farmers no longer cared
to keep up their orchards, and grew apples only for home consumption.
They gave the cyder to their labourers, and as these were not
particular as to the quality, no pains were taken to produce such as
would suit men’s refined palates. The workman liked a rough beverage,
one that almost cut his throat as it passed down; and this produced the
evil effect that the farmers, who were bound by their leases to keep
up their orchards, planted only the coarsest sort of apples, and the
higher quality of fruit was allowed to die out. The orchards fell into,
and in most cases remain still in a deplorable condition of neglect.
Hear what is the report of the Special Commissioner of the _Gardeners’
Magazine_, as to the state of the orchards in Devon. “They will not,
as a rule, bear critical examination. As a matter of fact Devonshire,
compared with other counties, has made little or no progress of late
years, and there are hundreds of orchards in that county that are
little short of a disgrace to those who own or rent them. The majority
of the orchards are rented by farmers, who too often are the worst of
gardeners and the poorest of fruit growers, and they cannot be induced
to improve on their methods.” The writer goes on to say, that so long
as the farmers have enough trees standing or blown over, to bear
fruit that suffices for their home consumption, they are content, and
with complete indifference, they suffer the cattle to roam about the
orchards, bite off the bark, and rend the branches and tender shoots
from the trees.
“If you tackle the farmers on the subject, and in particular strongly
advise them to see what can be done towards improving their old
orchards and forming new ones, they will become uncivil at once.”
It is sad to have to state that the famous “Royal Wilding” is no longer
known, not even at Pynes, where it was extensively planted by Hugh
Stafford.
Messrs. Veitch, the well-known nurserymen at Exeter and growers of
the finest sorts of apples, inform me that they have not heard of it
for many years. Mr. H. Whiteway, who produces some of the best cyder
in North Devon, writes to me: “With regard to the _Royal Wilding_
mentioned in Mr. Hugh Stafford’s book, I have made diligent inquiry in
and about the neighbourhood in which it was grown at the time stated,
but up to now have been unable to find any trace of it, and this
also applies to the _White-Sour_. I am, however, not without hope of
discovering some day a solitary remnant of the variety.”
This loss is due to the utter neglect of the orchards in consequence
of the passing and maintenance of Lord Bute’s mischievous Bill. This
Bill was the more deplorable in its results because in and about
1750 cyder had replaced the lighter clarets in the affections of all
classes, and was esteemed as good a drink as the finest Rhenish, and
much more wholesome. Rudolphus Austen, who introduced it at the tables
of the dons of Oxford, undertook to “raise cyder that shall compare
and excel the wine of many provinces nearer the sun, where they abound
with fruitful vineyards.” And he further asserted: “A seasonable and
moderate use of good cyder is the surest remedy and preservative
against the diseases which do frequently afflict the sedentary life of
them that are seriously studious.” He died in 1666.
Considerable difference of opinion exists as to the advantage or
disadvantage of cyder for those liable to rheumatism. But this
difference of opinion is due largely, if not wholly, to the kinds of
cyder drunk. The sweet cyder is unquestionably bad in such cases,
but that in which there is not so much sugar is a corrective to the
uric acid that causes rheumatism. In Noake’s _Worcestershire Relics_
appears the following extract from the journal of a seventeenth-century
parson. “This parish (Dilwyn), wherein syder [_sic_] is plentiful,
hath and doth afford many people that have and do enjoy the blessing
of long life, neither are the aged here bed-ridden or decrepit as
elsewhere, but for the most part lively and vigorous. Next to God, wee
ascribe it to our flourishing orchards, which are not only the ornament
but the pride of our country, yielding us rich and winy liquors.” At
Whimple, in Devon, the rectors, like their contemporary, the Rev.
Robert Wollocombe, the discoverer of the Royal Wilding a century or
so later than the Dilwyn parson, were both cyder makers and cyder
drinkers. The tenure of office of two of them covered a period of over
a century, and the last of these worthy divines lived to tell the story
of how the Exeter coach set down the bent and crippled dean at his
door, who, after three weeks ‘cyder cure’ at the hospitable rectory,
had thrown his crutches to the dogs and turned his face homewards
“upright as a bolt.”[1]
The apple is in request now for three purposes quite distinct: the
dessert apple, to rival those introduced from America; that largely
employed for the manufacture of jams--the basis, apple, flavoured
to turn it into raspberry, apricot, etc.; and last, but not least,
the cyder-producing apple which is unsuited for either of the former
requirements.
In my _Book of the West_ I have given a lengthy ballad of instruction
on the growth of apple trees, and the gathering of apples and the
making of cyder, which I heard sung by an old man at Washfield, near
Tiverton. The following song was sung to me by an aged tanner of
Launceston, some twenty years ago, which he professed to have composed
himself:--
In a nice little village not far from the sea,
Still lives my old uncle aged eighty and three;
Of orchards and meadows he owns a good lot,
Such cyder as his--not another has got.
Then fill up the jug, boys, and let it go round,
Of drinks not the equal in England is found.
So pass round the jug, boys, and pull at it free,
There’s nothing like cyder, sparkling cyder, for me.
My uncle is lusty, is nimble and spry,
As ribstones his cheeks, clear as crystal his eye,
His head snowy white as the flowering may,
And he drinks only cyder by night and by day.
Then fill up the jug, etc.
O’er the wall of the churchyard the apple trees lean
And ripen their burdens, red, golden, and green.
In autumn the apples among the graves lie;
“There I’ll sleep well,” says uncle, “when fated to die.”
Then fill up the jug, etc.
“My heart as an apple, sound, juicy, has been,
My limbs and my trunk have been sturdy and clean;
Uncankered I’ve thriven, in heart and in head,
So under the apple trees lay me when dead.”
Then fill up the jug, etc.
THE ALPHINGTON PONIES
During the forties of last century, every visitor to Torquay noticed
two young ladies of very singular appearance. Their residence was in
one of the two thatched cottages on the left of Tor Abbey Avenue,
looking seaward, very near the Torgate of the avenue. Their chief
places of promenade were the Strand and Victoria Parade, but they were
often seen in other parts of the town. Bad weather was the only thing
that kept them from frequenting their usual beat. They were two Misses
Durnford, and their costume was peculiar. The style varied only in
tone and colour. Their shoes were generally green, but sometimes red.
They were by no means bad-looking girls when young, but they were so
berouged as to present the appearance of painted dolls. Their brown
hair worn in curls was fastened with blue ribbon, and they wore felt or
straw hats, usually tall in the crown and curled up at the sides. About
their throats they had very broad frilled or lace collars that fell
down over their backs and breasts a long way. But in summer their necks
were bare, and adorned with chains of coral or bead. Their gowns were
short, so short indeed as to display about the ankles a good deal more
than was necessary of certain heavily-frilled cotton investitures of
their lower limbs. In winter over their gowns were worn check jackets
of a “loud” pattern reaching to their knees, and of a different
colour from their gowns, and with lace cuffs. They were never seen,
winter or summer, without their sunshades. The only variation to the
jacket was a gay-coloured shawl crossed over the bosom and tied behind
at the waist.
[Illustration: THE MISSES DURNFORD. THE ALPHINGTON PONIES
_From a Lithograph_]
The sisters dressed exactly alike, and were so much alike in face as to
appear to be twins. They were remarkably good walkers, kept perfectly
in step, were always arm in arm, and spoke to no one but each other.
They lived with their mother, and kept no servant. All the work of
the house was done by the three, so that in the morning they made no
appearance in the town; only in the afternoon had they assumed their
war-paint, when, about 3 p.m., they sallied forth; but, however highly
they rouged and powdered, and however strange was their dress, they
carried back home no captured hearts. Indeed, the visitors to Torquay
looked upon them with some contempt as not being in society and not
dressing in the fashion; only some of the residents felt for them in
their solitude some compassion. They were the daughters of a Colonel
Durnford, and had lived at Alphington. The mother was of an inferior
social rank. They had a brother, a major in the Army, 10th Regiment,
who was much annoyed at their singularity of costume, and offered to
increase their allowance if they would discontinue it; but this they
refused to do.
When first they came to Torquay, they drove a pair of pretty ponies
they had brought with them from Alphington; but their allowance being
reduced, and being in straitened circumstances, they had to dispose of
ponies and carriage. By an easy transfer the name of Alphington Ponies
passed on from the beasts to their former owners.
As they were not well off, they occasionally got into debt, and were
summoned before the Court of Requests; and could be impertinent even
to the judge. On one occasion, when he had made an order for payment,
one of them said, “Oh, Mr. Praed, we cannot pay now; but my sister
is about to be married to the Duke of Wellington, and then we shall
be in funds and be able to pay for all we have had and are likely to
want!” Once the two visited a shop and gave an order, but, instead of
paying, flourished what appeared to be the half of a £5 note, saying,
that when they had received the other half, they would be pleased to
call and discharge the debt. But the tradesman was not to be taken in,
and declined to execute the order. Indeed, the Torquay shopkeepers
were very shy of them, and insisted on the money being handed over the
counter before they would serve the ladies with the goods that they
required.
They made no acquaintances in Torquay or in the neighbourhood, nor did
any friends come from a distance to stay with them. They would now
and then take a book out of the circulating library, but seemed to
have no literary tastes, and no special pursuits. There was a look of
intelligence, however, in their eyes, and the expression of their faces
was decidedly amiable and pleasing.
They received very few letters; those that did arrive probably
contained remittances of money, and were eagerly taken in at the door,
but there was sometimes a difficulty about finding the money to pay for
the postage. It is to be feared that the butcher was obdurate, and that
often they had to go without meat. Fish, however, was cheap.
[Illustration: THE MISSES DURNFORD. THE ALPHINGTON PONIES (BACK VIEW)
_Lithographed by P. Gauci. Pub. Ed. Cockrem_]
A gentleman writes: “Mr. Garrow’s house, The Braddons, was on my
father’s hands to let. One day the gardener, Tosse, came in hot
haste to father and complained that the Alphington Ponies kept coming
into the grounds and picking the flowers, that when remonstrated with
they declared that they were related to the owner, and had permission.
‘Well,’ said father, ‘the next time you see them entering the gate
run down and tell me.’ In a few days Tosse hastened to say that the
ladies were again there. Father hurried up to the grounds, where he
found them flower-picking. Without the least ceremony he insisted on
their leaving the grounds at once. They began the same story to him
of their relationship to the owner, adding thereto, that they were
cousins of the Duke of Wellington. ‘Come,’ said father, ‘I can believe
_one_ person can go mad to any extent in any direction whatever, but
the improbability of _two_ persons going mad in identically the same
direction and manner at the same time is a little too much for my
credulity. Ladies, I beg you to proceed.’ And proceed they did.”
After some years they moved to Exeter, and took lodgings in St.
Sidwell’s parish. For a while they continued to dress in the same
strange fashion; but they came into some money, and then were able
to indulge in trinkets, to which they had always a liking, but which
previously they could not afford to purchase. At a large fancy ball,
given in Exeter, two young Oxonians dressed up to represent these
ladies; they entered the ballroom solemnly, arm in arm, with their
parasols spread, paced round the room, and finished their perambulation
with a waltz together. This caused much amusement; but several ladies
felt that it was not in good taste, and might wound the poor crazy
Misses Durnford. This, however, was not the case. So far from being
offended at being caricatured, they were vastly pleased, accepting
this as the highest flattery. Were not princesses and queens also
represented at the ball? Why, then, not they?
One public ball they did attend together, at which, amongst others,
were Lady Rolle and Mr. Palk, son of the then Sir Lawrence Palk.
Owing to their conspicuous attire, they drew on them the attention
of Lady Rolle, who challenged Mr. Palk to ask one of the sisters for
a dance, and offered him a set of gold and diamond shirt studs if he
could prevail on either of them to be his partner. Mr. Palk accepted
the challenge, but on asking for a dance was met in each case by the
reply, “I never dance except my sister be also dancing.” Mr. Palk then
gallantly offered to dance with both sisters at once, or in succession.
He won and wore the studs.