The Teign
'Ting (whose banks were blest
By her beloved nymph dear Leman) which addrest,
And fully with herself determined before
To sing the Danish spoils committed on her shore,
When hither from the east they came in mighty swarms,
Nor could their native earth contain their numerous arms,
Their surcrease grew so great, as forced them at last
To seek another soil, as bees do when they cast;
And by their impious pride how hard she was bested,
When all the country swam with blood of Saxons shed.'
DRAYTON: _Poly-olbion_.
The Teign rises, as do most of the rivers in Devon, on Dartmoor, and
starts across the moorlands towards the north. After a few miles it is
joined by the Wallabrook, and at that point turns eastwards.
The moorland country about it is very beautiful, but especially when the
heather and furze are in flower together, and far and wide stretches a
most royal display of rose-purple and gold. Ferns hang over the
transparent brown water, with its glancing lights, and tiny ferns and
polypodys peer out from the crannies and hollows of big grey boulders.
Here and there bushy willows grow along the edge, or a mountain-ash
shows its feathery, deep green foliage and clusters of scarlet berries.
A clapper bridge--that is, a bridge formed out of a single slab of
granite--over twelve feet long lies across the Wallabrook near the
meeting of the streams. Beside it grows a mountain-ash, and the
quivering and wavering leaves, and their shadows that quiver and waver
in the ripples beneath, make a profound contrast to that massive,
immovable stone, that from its look may certainly be included among
those Dartmoor antiquities which Sir Frederick Pollock says 'may very
well have been as great a mystery to the contemporaries of Julius Caesar
as they are to ourselves.' Modern opinion, however, denies that these
bridges on the moor are of a very great age. Close by on the north
stands Scorhill Circle, one of those stone circles over the history of
which antiquaries still differ.
A little farther down, on the north bank, is a tolmen, and there is a
tradition that to creep through the hole brings luck. The rock has, of
course, been associated with the Druids and their rites, but the hole is
really a natural one.
About three miles farther down the river one arrives at Chagford, and
perhaps the two things that a stranger will first notice about this
little town are, that the air is very exhilarating and the people
particularly courteous. For the rest, though not echoing Lord
Clarendon's remark, that, but for the calamity of Sidney Godolphin's
death, it is 'a place which could never otherwise have had a mention in
this world,' one must admit that it is not very remarkable. The moment
when Chagford came most violently into contact with public affairs was
that mentioned by Lord Clarendon, and most heartily must the inhabitants
have wished themselves back in their usual peaceful solitude. Sir John
Berkeley, at that time, 'with a good party, volant, of horse and
dragoons,' was descending in 'all places in the surrounding country
where Parliamentarians were known to be assembled, "dissolving" them,
and taking many prisoners.' Of one of these 'necessary and brisk
expeditions' Chagford was the goal, and arriving very early in the
morning, still in the dark, they fell upon it before day. The chilly
January dawn broke over a much-discomforted town, ringing with shots,
the trampling of horses, and the clash of steel, but the Royalist troops
were sturdily resisted, and Godolphin was slain, it is said, in the
porch of the Three Crowns Inn. Clarendon writes of him: 'There was never
so great a mind and spirit contained in so little room;' and in his
account of the skirmish he says: 'As his advice was of great authority
with all the commanders ... so he exposed his person to all action,
travel, and hazard; and by too forward engaging himself in this last
received a mortal shot by a musket, a little above the knee, of which he
died in the instant.' Sidney Godolphin, it will be remembered, was one
of the celebrated 'four wheels of Charles's Wain, all Devonshire and
Cornish men, and all slain at or near the same place, the same time, and
in the same cause....
'"Th' four wheels of Charles's wain,
Grenvill, Godolphin, Trevanion, Slanning slain."'
In early days Chagford was one of the four Stannary towns, the others
being Ashburton, Tavistock, and Plympton. Risdon mentions that 'This
place is priviledged with many immunities which tinners enjoy; and here
is holden one of the courts for Stannary causes.'
The river flows from Chagford in a north-easterly direction till
Drewsteignton stands due north, when it turns to the east. Drewsteignton
is a large village, and has a granite church, the tower of which is
Decorated, and the nave Perpendicular. In this parish was the barton of
Drascombe, and in the reign of Edward I, Walter de Bromehall held it 'by
the sergeanty of finding our Lord the King, whensoever he should hunt in
the forest of Dartmoor, one bow and three barbed arrows. And it was let
at five shillings a year rent.' One would imagine that King Edward I can
seldom have found time to amuse himself so far west, and the tenant
would not find the conditions a heavy tax.
The scenery by the river is very fine all about here, and Fingle Gorge
is generally considered to be the most beautiful of the many beautiful
glens through which the Teign passes. It is a deep ravine with high and
steep sides, that are thickly wooded and broken by great boulders. At
Fingle Bridge four winding valleys meet; that is, the combe down which
the river sweeps from above curves one way, and the narrow opening into
which it disappears twists sharply round in another. A cleft, half
hidden in trees, divides the line of hills that shut in the tiny
valley-meadow on the west, and a road and a small stream scramble down a
less severe descent between the high sides, from the north-east. But
from no point near the bridge would it be more possible to see far up
any cleeve, than it would be for a ladybird, perched at one end, to
trace all the lines of a stag's horn. If in one direction there was a
gentle slope and smiling prospect beyond, the peculiar effect would be
gone. There is a stillness, and almost a solemnity, in this little
opening closed in narrowly on every side by the steep hills rising
straight above it on every side, and looking as unchanging as if what
they are to-day, that they have been since the beginning of time.
Besides, there is a feeling of wildness and remoteness which cannot be
exactly accounted for by the scenery. A living writer has said that
there is that, in a beautiful landscape in a country inhabited from
prehistoric time, that there is not in an equally lovely scene in a new
country. Though no tangible marks of the presence of men may be left,
there is an intangible something that makes itself felt though it cannot
be defined, and the view is on that account the more interesting, and
makes a deeper appeal to the spectator.
In Fingle Gorge, actual though not conspicuous traces of the Britons are
easily found. Immediately above a precipitous ascent to the north are
the remains of an old camp, which antiquaries have decided was British.
On the opposite height is another camp, called Cranbrook Castle. 'This
camp is of irregular form, circular towards the north-east and
south-east, but almost square on other quarters. On its south side it
has a high rampart and a deep ditch. On its northern side, the steepness
of the hill formed the only defence.' It has been supposed that at this
narrow pass the last struggle the Damnonians made against the Romans
took place; but whether this were the case or not, the holders of the
camp possessed a supreme coign of vantage, and could have chosen no
better place for checking an enemy's advance.
As the crow flies, Moreton Hampstead is about three miles south of
Fingle Gorge, but the roads are rambling. The name was originally
Moor-Town, standing as it once did on the edge of the moor; and the
manor, like the barton of Drascombe, was held on a curious tenure.
'Which manor was the Earls of Ulster in King Edward the first's age, who
held it of the king for one sparrow-hawke yearly to be yielded.' Moreton
is a small place, and in these days perhaps its most marked
characteristic is the Dancing Tree, or Cross Tree, as it is sometimes
called, for it has grown out of the steps that encircled the now broken
village cross. This tree, an elm, was pollarded, and the branches so
trained that it was possible to lay a dancing floor between them when it
was wanted; the floor was then railed round, and a ladder placed to lead
up to it. Mr Baring-Gould, in his 'Book of the West,' quotes some most
interesting references to the tree from a journal kept by an old
gentleman living at Moreton Hampstead, in the beginning of the
nineteenth century:
'_June 4th, 1800._--His Majesty's birthday. Every mark of loyalty was
shown. In the afternoon a concert of instrumental music was held on the
Cross Tree....
'_August 19th, 1807._--This night the French officers assembled in the
Cross Tree with their band of music. They performed several airs with
great taste.'
The 'French officers' were prisoners of war, staying on parole at
Moreton Hampstead.
'Unfortunately, and to the great regret of the inhabitants of Moreton,
the tree was wrecked by a gale on October 1, 1891.'
About a mile to the north of Fingle stands Great Fulford, an estate
mentioned in the Domesday Book, which belongs to the Fulford family.
They have owned it continuously since the reign of Richard I. Many
members of the family have distinguished themselves, but the most
picturesque figure is that of Sir Baldwin, who was 'of so undaunted
resolution,' says Prince, 'that, for the honor and liberty of a royal
lady in a castle besieged by infidels, he fought a combat with a
Sarazen; for bulk and bigness an unequal match (as the representation of
him cut in the wainscot at Fulford-hall doth plainly show); whom yet he
vanquished and rescued the lady.' Sir Baldwin's name must have been
woven in many a romance and ballad in later days.
During the Civil War, Great Fulford was garrisoned for the King, but was
eventually forced to surrender to Fairfax.
Leaving the river and walking north-east, the wayfarer will come in time
to the parish of Whitstone, rather more than three miles from Exeter.
The church has several interesting features. From the south transept a
hagioscope slants through the wall to the chancel; and in one of the
windows of the north aisle is a bit of very old, though not very
beautiful, stained glass. A gallery at the west end bears a series of
panels emblazoned with coats of arms. In the chancel is some Jacobean
carving, and behind the altar there stand a double row of carved eagles,
most of them drooping their heads to one side. Close to the church is a
huge tithe barn, the date of which appears to be between 1450 and 1500.
In a little entry-way joining the Rectory lie the old stocks, opposite
carved panels, and the wood of which is so old that it has almost lost
its grain.
In the early part of the nineteenth century, the rector of the parish,
the Rev. Charles Brown, collected a large amount of varied information
concerning the parish into a manuscript volume, and from this record the
present rector has most kindly allowed me to make some extracts. Mr
Brown begins by explaining the meaning of the name, derived from the
Celtic _Wad_, a hill or ridge, which became in time _Whit_, and _don_,
land--Whitstone, the hill land. Whitstone certainly deserves the name,
as it is high, looking towards Dartmoor, but the Celtic form is more
correctly kept by a hill in the parish, which is still called Wadaldon,
or more commonly Waddlesdown.
Against the entries of burials in the parish register Mr Brown made
biographical notes, pithy, and quite free from that too flattering note
often sounded in epitaphs. Here are some examples:
'William Speare, D.D., buried 1812.... He formed a Paddock of 120 acres
[of land left him in this parish]. His penuriousness was as remarkable
as his taste. Often I have seen him in Exeter, whither he rode every
day, with one spur only, and that tied to his boot with string.
'1814.--James Hammett, 39, was before he came to reside in Whitstone, a
follower of Joanna Southcott, from whom he purchased for half a crown a
piece of parchment, which was to entitle him to free admission into
Heaven.
'1820.--James Sutton, 82, was for many years Sexton of the Parish, was
buried according to his request near the Rectory Granary. He said that
the Rector had been very kind to him; he would lie as near as possible
to his house.
'1829.--Ann Hexter, School-mistress at home and Mistress of the Sunday
School many years. Was for twenty years occasionally insane, and at last
never free from lunacy.
'1832.--William Earls--poor--humble--honest--was made happy by my
present of what he called "Multiplying Glasses."
'Thomas Lake, 85, said he had never taken medicine and would not begin
at 85.
'1833.--John Coven, my carpenter, 26 years, never defrauded his
employers of a minute's work; but his obstinacy was equal to his
honesty. He spent all his gains, openly declaring that the Parish should
maintain him when he could no longer work. At his death he had received
L60, but he gave up to the Overseers a legacy of L30.
'1834.--John How, 73. Having a pension of 4.0 a week, as Serj. of
Marines, once refused a shill. from me, saying he did not want it.'
The notes include a compressed but lurid tale:
'1835.--Thomas Snowden, 54. He died the day his son was christened, of
apoplexy.' The curate, W. Ley, had been present at a festive christening
dinner, and had left Mr Snowden still entertaining a fellow guest. The
seizure took place while they were alone. 'Mrs S. sent for Ley, and,
taking him into the room, said: "That's the man who has just killed my
husband." That man she afterwards married.'
Some interesting memoranda from the overseers and churchwardens give a
glimpse of hard days in the past. In 1811 an entry shows the
churchwardens making an effort to relieve the acute distress caused by
the high price of food. Wages were particularly low, and a succession of
bad harvests raised the price of wheat to famine price, whilst the war
with Napoleon prevented any grain coming into the country, from France
or America. So we find rice and barley sold to poor parishioners cheaper
than they could have bought it for themselves.
'_Account of Barley bought for the use of the Poor._
April and May, 105 Bushels at 13d. per Bush.; June,
135 at 11d.; August, 20 at 9s. 6d.
Sold at 8d. per Bush. loss L57 11 2 1/2
Four Hogs. 12 Rice cost 8 15 9
Sold for 6 0 5 1/2
Loss 2 15 3 1/2'
In 1796 there is a cryptic entry:
'Paid for a man for the Navy L11 13 0.'
Nothing more, though a few words in reference to the matter would be
very welcome. Possibly the best explanation is, that at a time when men
were being impressed for the navy on every hand, and the Government was
making immense efforts to get men and money, the parish provided the
bounty-money for a man, perhaps a parishioner, who had just joined with
or without his good-will. But this is insecure ground, and the meaning
can but be guessed at. In 1807 there is a very different, but also
unusual, item:
'Mr Sowden's huntsman for killing a fox, 3s. 4d.'
To return to Mr Brown's 'Record,' the memoranda are followed by a long
and very interesting list of 'Parochial Superstitions,' some of which,
but not all, are generally known. He also tells one or two stories with
a caustic touch where he might have suggested a supernatural atmosphere.
'"The Parsonage is haunted." This has been asserted for 100 years, at
least. It is still asserted, and proved too by the following story,
invented by Jacob Wright, a lively servant of mine in 1814. "'Jacob,'
said my master, 'come into my room. I am going to lay the ghost--don't
be frightened.' Well, we went in, and frightened enough I was when I saw
the ghost fly out of the window with _Master's hat and wig_."'
If only Mr Brown had had enough imagination to omit the word 'invented'!
His eyes must have twinkled again while he was enjoying the following
speech: 'It is reported that a calf with two heads has been seen in Hare
Lane. Hannah Splatt says: "Though I have walked about as a nurse at all
hours, I never saw anything _more frightful_ than myself."' The italics
in both cases are his. Superstitions are followed by a long list of
words that strike him (who must have come from 'up the country') as
peculiar, though many of them are commonly used to-day. And he makes one
delightful quotation. In mentioning the fact that Devonshire people say
'to' where others say 'at'--far instance, 'working to blacksmith's,' or
'living to Exeter'--he writes: 'Dr Atterbury used to say that if he had
been Bishop of Exeter, the Devonshire folks would have called him Dr To
Terbury.'
Rejoining the Teign, one descends a valley very beautiful, but less
striking than Fingle Gorge, the sides wider apart and less high, but
thickly wooded. It is especially lovely in late March or early April,
when the woodbine wreaths give an earnest of what the spring's full
touch will bring, and buds are bursting and tiny quilled leaves showing
on the hazels scattered among the oaks that form the chief substance of
the coppices. Near Dunsford lies a sea of blue-green daffodil spears,
with the pale gold flowers showing among them. These flowers push up
among the rustling brown leaves, under interlacing branches overhead,
but at a turn of the river a large flat meadow spreads out before one,
and here the daffodils indeed 'dance' in their myriads. Just beyond is
the bridge below Dunsford, and here are several tiny islands, each about
large enough to hold a sapling and a tangle of overflowing green that
trails into the water; and rushing by on each side, after falling over a
little weir, the river dashes itself into a line of foam and races on
under the archway.
Some miles down the valley and east of the river is Doddiscombsleigh,
whose chief feature is its church. The chancel is early Decorated, the
nave and north aisle Perpendicular, and in the windows of this aisle,
and more especially in the east window, is some good stained glass--a
rarity in the churches in this neighbourhood. The subject, a rather
uncommon one in England, is the Seven Sacraments, and, as the old glass
was no longer intact, the window has been lately restored.
Farther south, and on the other side of the river, is Christow, with
its granite Perpendicular church. In the porch is a tribute to long
service--a stone to
NICHOLAS BUSSELL, 46 years clark
Heere dyed xix Feb. 1631.
Tradition says that the stone marks the actual spot where he died, and
the wording of the epitaph favours the idea. It may be that he went to
church in a very feeble state, perhaps thinking that neither parson nor
congregation could get on without him, and with a supreme effort crowned
his many years of service.
The valley has a solitary look, as if it were very remote from hurry or
turmoil, with the green, silent hills rising high towards Haldon's
moorlands on one side, and to Dartmoor on the other. But when the tides
of the Civil War surged backward and forward, the valley of the Teign
had its full share of trouble. Those who lived there were too near
Exeter for their peace and comfort, and must have been repeatedly
harassed by the troops of one side or the other while they were
clattering to or from the city, or quartered in the villages near, and
the commotion must have been especially trying when Fairfax was
beginning the siege of Exeter by hemming in the city with his outposts.
Canonteign House was garrisoned for the King, and was considered 'a
strong fort'; but at the end of the year 1645, when the Royalist cause
was lost, it was taken by a body of troops from the regiment of Colonel
Okey, who after the Restoration was executed as one of the Regicides. A
short account of the affair is given in 'Anglia Rediviva': 'Information
being given that the house of one Mr Davis at Canonteen (being within
four miles of Exeter) stood convenient for a garrison, and might bear a
useful proportion towards the blocking up of Exeter, hindering of
provision from the Southams, some more of Colonel Okey's dragoons were
ordered thither to possess the same, who accordingly went and fulfilled
their orders, December 21, and were no longer in the house; but Monday,
December 22, in the morning, the enemy sent a force against it, who
stormed the house, burnt the out-houses; yet Captain Woggan, who
commanded the dragoons, behaved himself so gallantly that he beat the
enemy off, killed four, desperately wounded a lieutenant-colonel, and
took divers prisoners.'
The manor of Canonteign was bought by the first Lord Exmouth, who built
a new Canonteign House near the old one. In Christow Church is a
memorial of the great Admiral--the flag flown by his ship during the
battle of Algiers. A broadside ballad commemorating that splendid fight
has a fine disregard for the more pedantic rules of making verse, and
the metre is a good example of what is called 'rugged'; but those who
are superior to such details will appreciate the directness and air of
enjoyment that are very appropriate to the song of a gallant sailor:
THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS.
'Come, all you Britons, stout and bold, that love your native land.
Rejoicing in your victory, Lord Exmouth gave command.
Lord Exmouth will your rights maintain, as you shall plainly see,
How we all fought like lions bold, to set the Christians free.
_Chorus._
'You British tars, be steady, and maintain your glorious name;
You will ever find Lord Exmouth to lead you into fame.
'On the 17th July in Plymouth Sound we lay,
Lord Exmouth made a signal our anchor for to weigh;
We exercis'd our great guns, believe me what I say,
That we might do the best we could on that glorious day.
'When we came to Gibraltar, for three days there we lay,
Our cabins there we all knock'd down, our decks we cleared away.
That nothing in our way might be, for we their batteries saw,
Prepar'd to send their burning shot upon our decks below.'
Here follows a detailed account of the order of the ships going into
battle and of the fight itself, finishing with:
'And there's one thing more I relate, which is to be admir'd,
At five o'clock that afternoon we set their ships on fire.
Our rocket-ships and fire-ships so well their parts did play,
The Algerines from their batteries were forc'd to run away.
'Now this glorious action's over, and Christians are set free,
The Algerines are bound down--there's here no slavery;
But if they break their terms of peace, Lord Exmouth doth declare
If he should visit them again, not one of them he spare.'
Chudleigh stands a little above, and to the east of the river. From very
early times it has been specially connected with the bishops of Exeter,
for Bishop Osbert built a palace here about 1080. In the third year of
Richard II's reign the palace was fortified under a licence to Bishop
Brantyngham, but now only a very few fragments of it are still to be
seen. The manor of Chudleigh was bound to provide twelve woodcock for
the bishop's table on the day of his election, but should they be
unobtainable, twelve pence was considered a just equivalent! In 1547
Bishop Vesey alienated 'the manor, town, palace, and limekiln,' and
rather more than a hundred years later it came into the possession of
Lord Clifford. The present Lord Clifford is lord of the manor.
At the beginning of the fourteenth century there was a lively trade in
woollen goods, which were made here in considerable quantities, and this
industry was carried on with varying prosperity through several
centuries. In the reign of James I the trade was particularly
flourishing, and, though gradually lessening, it was in existence till
the end of the reign of George II.
The people of Chudleigh are said to have been careful to favour neither
side in the Civil War--a small and defenceless town, swept through by
each party in turn, could hardly take any other course. In January,
1646, while Exeter was still holding out against the Parliament, Fairfax
and his army were quartered here. The surrounding country is very
pretty, and Chudleigh Rock and Chudleigh Glen are particularly
delightful. The Rock is of blue limestone, and a deep cavern runs far
into it, once supposed to be haunted by the pixies. It is still called
the 'Pixies' Parlour.' A stream runs through the Glen, and joins the
Teign just below the town.
Near Chudleigh is Ugbrooke Park, which, with its hills and valleys,
streams, lakes, trees, and deer, has all that is wanted to make a park
beautiful. 'Fair Rosamond' is so well known by that title alone that it
is sometimes forgotten that she was a De Clifford. In her lifetime,
their principal estate was in Herefordshire, but later the heiress of
Ugbrooke brought this property by marriage to Antony Clifford.
Perhaps the member of the family who played the most important part in
history is Sir Thomas Clifford, afterwards the Lord Clifford whose
initial is the first of the five that together spell 'Cabal.' In its
early days, he was the leading spirit of that famous council. One branch
of the Cliffords had settled in Holland, and it was probably in staying
there with his relations that Sir Thomas had been brought to the notice
of Charles II and first gained his influence over him. Lord Macaulay is
not complimentary in his references to any member of the Cabal, but such
commendations as he has to give are bestowed on Clifford. Sir Thomas, he
says, 'had greatly distinguished himself in the House of Commons. Of the
members of the Cabal, he was the most respectable. For, with a fiery,
imperious temper, he had a strong though a lamentably perverted sense of
duty and honour.' Farther on he adds that Clifford 'alone of the five
had any claim to be regarded as an honest man.' Sir Thomas started a
scheme which was practically the origin of the National Debt. Several
statesmen who enjoyed the King's favour greatly desired the Lord
Treasurer's office, and here Charles displayed his usual astuteness;
for, being, as always, in want of money, he said to them that the man
who should be Lord Treasurer was the man who could show him a way of
putting money into the Treasury. The plan that Sir Thomas proposed to
the King, and which was put into execution, Lord Clifford has most
kindly sketched out as follows: 'The first Lord Clifford of Chudleigh
was made Lord Treasurer by Charles II, and recommended the King to seize
the money deposited in the Exchequer and secured by the allocation of
various revenues. These loans had always up to this been faithfully met.
By seizing this money, nominally only for a year, he acquired the sum of
L1,300,000 at 6 per cent. At the succession of William and Mary the
Public Debt was L664,263, and this was probably part of the money so
seized; but it was not till 5 William and Mary, c. 20, that the
authority of Parliament was given for a loan to be raised by the then
created Bank of England, from which period usually dates the National
Debt. Evelyn ascribes the inception of this idea to Ashley Shaftesbury,
who, foreseeing its illegality, and possibly its disastrous results
(for many persons were ruined), left it to Clifford to propose it to the
King. He gave 6 per cent. interest. When the Bank of England loan was
raised (5 W. and M.) the interest was 8 per cent.'
There is a fine picture of the Lord High Treasurer, by Sir Peter Lely,
at Ugbrooke, of which two replicas hang, one in the Treasury, and the
other at Ham House, which belonged to the Duke of Lauderdale, who was
the L of the Cabal. Lord Clifford is wearing a crimson robe, under a
magnificent flowing mantle of ermine, and in his right hand is the white
wand of office. His face shows shrewdness and determination, and a
certain geniality, which suggests that, though on occasion he might not
have scrupled to act as an oppressor, yet he would always have liked to
do so as pleasantly as possible.
A remnant of former friendship was shown seven years after the Cabal was
dissolved. In December, 1680, when the country was still seething
against Popery, a Bill was brought before the House of Lords which
provided, amongst other things, that all Papists of influence should be
removed from their own estates to a far distant county. Lists of the
gentlemen 'selected' in each county were made out (and have been
reprinted among the manuscripts of the House of Lords), and after the
last list is written: 'In addition to the above Lists, there was one for
Devonshire, which appears to have been given to Earl Shaftesbury ... but
which is not forthcoming.' A subsequent collection of the names of those
'selected' in this county follows this statement, but Lord Clifford's
name does not appear among them; therefore Lord Shaftesbury's reason for
'mislaying' this one list is supposed to be that he had suppressed in it
the name of his former friend's son; and no second formal list for
Devonshire seems to have been made. The Bill never became law.
At Newton Abbot the river reaches its most southerly point and again
turns east. Lysons says that its 'market and fair were spoken of in the
reign of Edward I;' but there are not many old buildings, and those that
there are seem completely swamped by numerous modern ones. The parish
church, to the south of the town, contains much that is most
interesting; and Forde House, a fine Jacobean building, welcomed under
its roof Charles I on two occasions, and, having changed owners
meanwhile, greeted William of Orange, when, thirty-three years later, he
was on his way from Torbay.
Along the northern bank of the estuary lie the two villages of
Kingsteignton and Bishopsteignton, the manor of the first being part of
the ancient demesnes of the Crown, as that of the second was of the See
of Exeter. At the Kingsteignton 'revel' a curious custom used to be
observed, for a part of the proceedings was that 'a ram was hunted,
killed, roasted, and eaten.' Mr Baring-Gould gives these details, and
adds a village anecdote. 'The parson there once asked a lad in
Sunday-school, "How many commandments are there?" "Three, sir," was the
prompt reply--"Easter, Whitsuntide, and the Revel."'
Bishopsteignton has a church in which there are portions of Norman work,
and in the parish lie the remains of a Bishop's palace, 'From ancient
times,' says Lysons, 'one of the country seats of the bishops.' It was
practically rebuilt by Bishop Grandisson.
I was once given an interesting piece of information relating to
Bishopsteignton by an old man living near Newton St Cyres. He said that
in a general way the women there used to be very small, and folks said
that was because they had been changed by the pixies when they were
babies.
It is unnecessary to dwell on the fact that Teignmouth, besides being a
port, is a most flourishing watering-place. The colouring is very rich,
and especially lovely when set off by a brilliant sky and glittering
blue water. Blood-red cliffs lead north and south, and the green of
grass and plants, broken by masses of wild-flowers of all tints, here
scattered thinly, there in clumps, overlaps and creeps down the face of
the rock wherever there is foothold. Between Teignmouth and Dawlish an
'island-rock' of the warmest red runs out into the sea, and through an
arch in it the rippling water may be seen beyond. Looking down at
Teignmouth from the hill on the opposite side, the town seems to run
very flatly into the angle between sea and river. In the estuary, at
low tide, the ships and boats lie in pools among the sand-banks, with
the gulls circling and screaming about them.
It has been said that 'the cliffs of Teignmouth owe their deep-red hue
to the slaughter of the inhabitants by the Danes in 970, when "the very
rocks streamed with blood"'; and the old people confidently assert that
the dwarf-elder (called hereabouts 'Danes-elder') grows only upon the
site of old battle-fields 'where the Danes' blood was spilt!' These
legends are not altogether baseless, for there is no doubt as to the
pitiless brutality which the Danes showed in their various incursions
into Devon between the years 894 and 1013. Drayton's image is bold and
gruesome:
'When all the country swam with blood of Saxons shed.'
Teignmouth was last troubled by an enemy in 1690, when Admiral de
Tourville, having defeated the united English and Dutch fleets off
Beachy Head, sailed down the Channel and anchored one night in Tor Bay.
The Devonshire militia flew to arms. 'In twenty-four hours all
Devonshire was up. Every road in the county from sea to sea was covered
by multitudes of fighting men, all with their faces set towards Torbay.'
De Tourville, upon this discouraging reception, gave up any ideas he may
have had of disembarking, and merely sent some galleys to Teignmouth,
who first turned their cannon on the town and afterwards landed and
burned it.
The general excitement that this attack created found voice in a ballad
called 'The Devonshire Boys' Courage, 1690.' It is utter doggerel, but
expresses the contemporary views of the people, and was sung to a tune
called 'Liggan Water,' a title that, according to Mr William Chappell,
refers to an Irish stream. I give only a few verses:
[Illustration: music]
'Brave _Devonshire_ Boys made haste away
When news did come from _Tinmouth-bay_,
The French were landed in that town
And Treacherously had burnt it down.
'When to the Town they did draw near,
The _French_ did straightways disappear;
Because that they had then beat down
And basely burnt poor _Tinmouth-town_.
'On _Haldon-Hill_ they did design
To draw their men up in a line;
But _Devonshire_ Boys did make them run;
When once they did discharge a Gun.
'Brave Blew coat Boys did watch them so,
They to no other place dare go;
For if they had returned again,
I'm sure the _Frenchmen_ had been slain.
* * * * *
'Let _Monsieur_ then do what he can,
We'll still Reign Masters o'er the Main;
Old England's Right upon the Sea
In spight of _France_ maintain'd shall be.
'No Seaman fears to lose his Blood,
To justifie a Cause so good;
To fight the _French_, who have begun
With burning down poor _Tinmouth-town_.
'The _Cornish_ Lads will lend a hand,
And _Devonshire_ Boys will with them Band,
To pull the pride of Monsieur down,
Who basely burn'd poor Tinmouth-town.'