DUKE UNIVERSITY DIVINITY SCHOOL LIBRARY EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE Reproduced by permission of the arlist and the Governors of Blundell's School. ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE. From the painting by Professor Hubert Von Herkomer; presented to “ Blundell’s” by Mr. John Coles, J.P., in commemoration of the Tercentenary of the School. Frontisptece.} EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE A RECORD OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD BY Fo? J. SNELI&oeea. AUTHOR OF ‘‘ A BOOK OF EXMOOR,” ETC. WITH SEVENTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS AND A FACSIMILE LETTER NEW YORK THOMAS WHITTAKER 2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE Sul 993 sha | TV RBRS PRE AAC © HE idea of the present work—that of weaving the interest of a fine neighbourhood and a famous school around a single great personality— suggested itself to the writer several years ago, when he confided his design to the late Mr. R. D. Blackmore, and received his hearty God-speed. It might have been well—it certainly seemed so at the time—had the book been published during the Archbishop’s life- time, seeing that the period, though full of attraction, is somewhat remote. A higher standard of accuracy might then have been attained. Dr. Temple, how- ever, preferred that no biographical sketch of any sort or kind should appear until after his death ; and to this decision the writer, however reluctantly, felt he must needs bow. The Tercentenary of Blundell’s School is to be celebrated in June 1904, and the authorities, having regard to the comparatively recent decease of the greatest and one of the most attached of Blundell’s sons, have decided to identify the event with his memory by the institution of Temple scholarships and the unveiling of a portrait. It is to be hoped, there- fore, that the volume, enshrining as it does so much Viii PREFACE that was dear to Dr. Temple, may be of service to his schoolfellows.as well as to the general public. Blundell’s School has produced a, whole army of heroes, and it may be that more impartial posterity will rank Bishop Bull higher in the scale of merit than Archbishop Temple; we do not know about that— but the romantic region of the Blackdowns has waited long for its great man, for the inspiring human figure that shall draw to Culmstock Beacon and Dunkeswell Abbey a larger array of pilgrims than has hitherto wended its way to the “chines” and “ coombes ” and “castles” of the East Devon range—henceforth Temple’s country. On the whole, however, these western hills must yield the palm to Blundell’s School, a great historic foundation which, during the three centuries of its existence, has been of incalculable benefit to the West Country first, and then to the nation. Of course, the school has known many changes; it has experienced ups and downs, and in the old days abuses, like rank © weeds, flourished within its precincts. As human nature is constituted, it seems inevitable that pride and prejudice should dog prosperity ; and institutions, like individuals, sometimes take a long time in learning that it is the duty of the strong to protect and en- courage the weak, not to oppress them. A healthy boy, unless he has been very carefully trained, is in danger of becoming a perfect tyrant, though he may be at the same time a charming fellow, whose maturity will strangely belie his hectoring youth. Concerning PREFACE ix the persecution of the native boys, which in some cases was horrible, I believe it to have been due in no small measure to the love of party and the tendency to make and take sides, which has since found better expression. When the writer was at the school no day-boy was ever bullied as such; indeed, whether for numbers or prowess, day-boys could speak with the boarders in the gates. One of the late Archbishop’s principal reasons for admiring the old style of education was, that under it boys were allowed some amount of initiative and independence in their studies. At present it would no doubt be difficult, especially in a large school like Blundell’s, to translate into practice what many would approve theoretically. Still, the writer remembers with interest that the headmaster (Mr. A. L. Francis, M.A.), who still guides the fortunes of the school, granted him a good deal of latitude; and he ventures to think that, with proper tact on the part of the boy or his parents, similar privileges might even now be secured. It is right to state that this expression of opinion is quite voluntary and entirely irresponsible, being: merely a particular application of a general truth, “ What has been, may be.” While the existing generation has a tolerably clear appreciation of the late primate as a man, nobody perhaps can supply us with a psychological analysis of what he was as a boy. Of course, we know that he was a good boy—which is much—but one would desire, if possible, to enlarge our scope somewhat, and a * x PREFACE extract a moral from Dr. Temple’s career. Working backwards, I have come to the conclusion that he was a “ hard-witted ” rather than a “ quick-witted ” lad. The distinction is Ascham’s, and the reader might do worse than consult the Scholemaster for a full exposi- tion of the point. One passage, however, we feel we must quote, since it appears as if written not of any chance boy or boys, but proleptically of Temple. “Contrariwise, a wit in youth that is not over-dull, heavy, knotty, or lumpish, but hard, rough, and some- what staffish, as Tully wisheth ot:um, quietum non languidum ; and negotium cum labore, non cum periculo ; such a wit, if it be at first well handled by the mother, and rightly smoothed and wrought as it should, not overthwartly and against the wood, by the schoolmaster, both for learning and whole course of living, proveth always the best. Hard wits be hard to receive, but sure to keep ; painful without weariness, heedful with- out wavering, constant without newfangleness ; bearing heavy things, though not lightly, yet willingly ; entering hard things, though not easily, yet deeply; and so come to that perfectness of learning in the end that quick wits seem in hope, but do not in deed, or else very seldom, ever attain unto. Also for manners and life, hard wits commonly are hardly carried either to desire every new thing, or else to marvel at every strange thing; and. therefore they be careful and diligent in their own matters, not curious and busy in other men’s affairs; and so they become wise them- selves, and also are counted honest by others. They PREFACE Xi be grave, steadfast, silent of tongue, secret of heart. Not hasty in making, but constant in keeping any promise. Not rash in uttering, but wary in con- sidering every matter; and thereby, not quick in speaking, but deep of judgment, whether they write or give counsel in all weighty affairs. And these be the men that become in the end both most happy for themselves and always best esteemed in the world.” The sources of this work have been many and manifold, printed and oral. I have had chats galore with the fathers of Culmstock, and, Messrs. Channon, and Lee, and Norton, and Wood, and Furbear, God rest you, gentlemen, for the information you have given me. If some of it appears not here, yet peradventure it shall blossom forth in another garden another day, for this simple volume may not contain all. The Transactions of the Devonshire Association and the Proceedings of the Somerset Society, the files of Zhe Tiverton Gazette and those of The Blundellian, in which periodical too many years ago I myself commenced author, have been laid under contribution; and of books, saving Blackmore’s romances, the most relevant and valuable were three—Mr. W. H. Hamilton Rogers’ Memorials of the West, Mr. A. L. Humphreys’ Materzals towards a History of Wellington (to which I have added my rent and reckoning for the usufruct), and Colonel Harding’s laborious but decidedly uninspired flistory of Tiverton. To the writers of divers anony- mous contributions to The Blundellian 1 would fain tender individual and heartfelt acknowledgments, since Xii PREFACE their timely efforts have much facilitated my task ; but their modesty and my ignorance oppose a bar, and, from internal evidence, I fear that most, if not all, of these provident, and providential, seniors have entered the Silent Land. A goodly proportion of the Tiverton lore came to me in this wise. An old butcher of the town, named Davey, was in his last days fired with the worthy ambition of perpetuating his recollections, and, as a first step, communicated them to Mr. T. G. Field, then editor of The Devon and Somerset Weekly News, who very goodnaturedly found space for them in that journal. When Davey had pretty well emptied himself he handed me the notes, with the proviso that, if at any future time I dealt with a local topic, I would endeavour to utilise them. That promise I have now redeemed. In conclusion, I may remark that, the work having been written for .the most part before the fiscal con- troversy became a burning question, it was in no sense projected as a bulwark of Free Trade, as the phrase was formerly understood. Like almost everybody else, I was under the impression that Free Trade (in the old sense) was as much a symbol of British supremacy as the Union Jack, and could never become a party shibboleth. But those who live the longest see the most. F. J. SNELL. TIVERTON, NortH DEVON. CONTENTS PREFACE A : : ; ‘ : . Vii CHAPTER I THE BLACKDOWN RANGE. 4 3 e ‘ I CHAPTER II FROM AGE TO AGE é : : ed ite UR CHAPTER III PT te dk Veh a: ty a MAN ae eee CHAPTER IV THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS . . 71 CHAPTER V JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL . - 105 CHAPTER VI THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 124 xiii xiv CONTENTS CHAPTER VII HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON CHAPTER VIII TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S CHAPTER IX HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN. CHAPTER X MORE ABOUT TIVERTON CHAPTER XI THE REIGN OF “SAS” . CHAPTER XII SOME FESTIVALS CHAPTER XIII AT OXFORD CHAPTER XIV AS OLD BOY AND GOVERNOR PAGE 194 213 232 273 301 316 ILLUSTRATIONS ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE . é . . . é : . Frontispiece To face page BEACON HILL . ° . . A > : . ° . . . 8 THE RUINS, DUNKESWELL ABBEY . . ° . . . . ° 32 CULMSTOCK BRIDGE F ; ; : : : ‘ : : oo 56 DR. TEMPLE AND HIS MOTHER. - 7 : : “ 088 PETER BLUNDELL . . : . : = ¢ . o . 7 £20 FRONT VIEW OF BLUNDELL’'S OLD SCHOOL . 5 Fs . e Spun (6) INTERIOR OF BLUNDELL’S OLD SCHOOL 5 . . . . . 160 R, D. BLACKMORE . ‘ ‘ i 7 é , : : 3 . 184 FORE STREET, TIVERTON, IN 1834 5 . . . . ° - 208 VEN. ARCHDEACON SANDERS, ° ° . . , c ° . 236 WASHFIELD WEIR . . . . 5 : ° . . . » 252 ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE’S NAME, CARVED ON THE WALL OF BLUNDELL’'S COOOL Cw My C TT Tepue al | Ester, Cs \eun reo nd co al ae Wehae Wa eet THE PORTER’S LODGE OF THE OLD SCHOOL, 1831 Saks hs Sigh Soa GAl OLD BLUNDELL’S; INTERIOR OF THE UPPER SCHOOL, 1831 J Veh 06 BUUNDELE'S SCHOOL, PRESENT DAY =. 0: 03. w/a) /2 356 ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE ON HIS WAY TO BLUNDELL’S CHAPEL . - 328 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE CHAPTER I THE BLACKDOWN RANGE \ X JE shall a little later introduce Archbishop Temple, and give some account of his early days, but it will be appropriate that we should at the outset devote some chapters to the western hills amidst which he, as well as the perhaps no less famous Black- more, spent a most interesting part of their lives. Although the compiler of that valuable work, Zhe Beauties of England, has been good enough to describe the Blackdown Range as “a dreary waste”—a matter on which we hope to say something presently—from a geologist’s point of view, at any rate, it is a verit- able paradise. To use the expression of one of them, it is “classic ground.” In speaking of the Black- down Range, we employ a phrase sanctioned by usage, but there is something to be said for it in principle. Viewed from any point which commands their full I 2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE extent, the outline of these hills is strikingly horizontal, and their upper surfaces constitute a series of table- lands. If this does not realise one’s conception of a range of hills, then it may well be thought difficult to attach a definite meaning to words. However, no less an authority than De la Beche takes exception to the term, and, as the physical character of this part of Devon is so well set forth in his Report, we feel it our duty, in the interests of accuracy, to transcribe some of his remarks: “ They [the Blackdown Hills] cannot be said to form a range of hills, but rather an elevated table-land cut into, more particularly on the west and south, by deep valleys, which thus divide it into several long lines, chiefly running to the west, south-west, and south. The longest continuous line of this kind is that which extends from Staple Hill on the north and runs about seventeen miles by Brown Down, Birch Hill, the hill forming the left side of the valley of the Otter, to Honiton, Faraway Hill, on the west of Northleigh, Gittisham Hill, and the hill on the east of Ottery St. Mary to Beacon Hill, above Harpford on the Otter. A depression here takes place for about three-quarters of a mile, after which Peak Hill and High Peak Hill, near Sidmouth, continue the line to the sea for about two miles and a quarter, so that, including the depression, this line of high land extends about twenty miles, varying in elevation from 600 to 750 ft. Bold pro- montories and isolated portions at the termination of the lines of elevated land have, from their commanding positions, been seized upon at different periods for military purposes, and the remains of ancient earth- works or camps are seen in various directions, among THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 3 which may be noticed Castle Neroche, rising above Curland, Membury Castle, Musbury Castle, Hawksdown, near Axmouth; Sidbury Hill, near Sidmouth; Dumpdon, 879 ft. above the sea, on the north of Honiton; and Hembury Castle, near Broadhembury.” To these may be added the landward remnant of the camp on High Peak, west of Sidmouth, and the en- trenchment on Stockland Hill. There is a sense in which the Blackdown Range may be described as a detached portion of Dartmoor, and it holds a sisterly relation to Haldon, which is one stage nearer that alpine region of Devon. In both cases the uppermost deposits, which are of no great thick- ness, correspond, and differ, alike in the nature and condition of their materials, from what is directly beneath them. If we ask of what these uppermost deposits consist, the geologist tells us that they are composed principally of flints. But here and there, and in some plenty, other déérzs is to be found. In this natural museum, as it may be termed, we come upon fragments of red porphyry, altered slates, black schorly granite and quartz from Dartmoor. All the latter specimens are rounded like sea-shingle, and the whole mass appears water-worn. In the upper Black- down beds the crystalline rocks are less in proportion to the others than is the case on Haldon, but the pebbles are identical in character and have been derived, there is no reason to doubt, from the same quarter. In other words, they are Dartmoor detritus, disintegrated material of rocks. But what does this imply? The fact that the pebbles are rounded may be considered to supply the answer. They are not only like sea-shingle, they are sea-shingle; the pebbles, gravels, and sands have 4 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE been deposited by the sea. Now let us look at the table-land character of the Blackdown Hills. To what is this due? Evidently, to the action of water, to the grinding, levelling action of the breaking waves, which can alone have transported the wreck of Dartmoor rocks. These horizontal uplands have been happily styled “platforms or terraces of denudation,’ which phrase applies, of course, to the time when they formed part of the seashore. In calculating the extent of either range, it is fair to include all the valleys ramifying its table-land, since they are integral parts of its physical geography. Thus estimated, the area of the Blackdowns from the coast northward is roughly 165 square miles and the com- bined area of Great and Little Haldon about five square miles. The time was, no doubt, when this elevated plateau covered the whole region bounded by the Quantocks on the north and Dartmoor on the west. With the large problem thus opened up we do not propose to deal, but we will endeavour to solve a smaller, but not less interesting, question, in the belief that, should we succeed in answering it, we may be determining the other point—the origin of that great void—as well. Blackdown and Haldon are furrowed by deep ravines. What has become of the material which once filled them? Or, we may ask, where are now the beds that spanned the wide gulf between the two ranges, which ages since were united? There can be no doubt as to the reply. The prime agents in this work of terrestrial revolution are the Exe and the Culm, with their tributaries. The Culm itself enters the Exe at some distance above its estuary, and then what do we THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 5 find? All Devonshire people and all who have travelled on the main line of railway must have been struck with the immense accumulation of mud on both sides of the river, and opposite its mouth. The Exmouth Warren, as the insulated portion is called, is a familiar object to residents and visitors, and has acquired sufficient consistency to permit of picnics being held amidst its tall grass. It has also an interesting history, of which only the opening chapter can be recorded here. Now the difference in colour between the sea- beach at Exmouth and the Warren, sand-banks, and littoral zone is so remarkable that even the most casual visitors cannot fail to notice it, and the reason for this difference is nearly as obvious. The ordinary beach is mainly the waste of the sea-cliffs, whereas the lfning of the river's mouth consists for the most part of what the river has brought down and deposited. Some of this is comminuted hard palzozoic grit, mingled with not a little of the looser trias, or upper new sandstone. But the denudation of the greensand, of which, as we shall find, both Haldon and the Blackdowns have an ample supply, must have proceeded more rapidly, and therefore, it is to be supposed, has contributed a larger proportion of silt. The conse- quence is that we meet with Blackdown once more on the south-east coast of Devon, where it is doomed to the same ignominious fate that has overtaken the submerged forests of the rude northern coast. The late Mr. Downes summed up the matter very pleasantly as follows: “ Nature, eschewing her usual tortuous ways, has by simple water-carriage turned an old littoral deposit into a new one. The difference is mainly this: The 6 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE moorland solitude is exchanged for the seaside watering- place and its two lines of railway, between which The stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; while the naturalist, instead of looking for Cardium hillanum and Mactra angulata amid furze-brake and heather, picks up Cardium edule and Mactra solida amid bladder-wrack and bathing-machines.” Before we proceed further with our geological studies, we think it is quite time that we scotched that base calumny on the beauty of the neighbourhood. Having no wish to pose as quixotically tender on the subject, we may at once concede that the broad flat tops, in themselves, make no strong appeal to the zsthetic faculties ; and, more than that, the going, whether by road or across country, is none too easy. Nevertheless, Blackdown has undeniable charms, which lie partly in its wider prospects and partly in its delectable valleys. To look down from the high land over the rich vale of the Culm towards Uffculme is to fancy yourself in Elysium or, at all events, in an earthly paradise. Not less pleasing is the broad and fruitful valley of the Otter to the west of Honiton. The vantage-ground may be Hembury Hill, Coombe Raleigh Hill, Gittisham Hill, or Dumpdon Beacon. Speaking in geological language, Dumpdon Beacon is an outlying » fragment of the cretacean, or chalky, plain rising amid the undulating triassic ground, and, owing to its isolation, - makes a striking feature in the landscape. Similar fragments are Shute and Dalwood Hills in the Yarty valley, which is extremely pretty. The same com- pliment may be paid to the Sid valley and the little THE BLACKDOWN RANGE Z valley of Branscombe, although here we seem to be getting far away from what is commonly understood by the Blackdown Hills. Return, then, to Blackborough Beacon, or Hembury Fort, and you will find extended before you a panorama embracing practically the whole country from sea to sea. Hence you may trace the coast-line of the English Channel, save for a portion hidden by Woodbury Hill, from Budleigh Salterton to Babbacombe. In the opposite direction the waves of the Bristol Channel are not visible, but that is the fault of the Quantocks and the cliffs of Watchet, which emerge, so to speak, just in time to shut off the view. To the north-east you catch glimpses of Exmoor, and far away to the south-west, like an enchanted land, appear the shadowy outlines of mountainous Dartmoor. Gazing on this magnificent scene, that enthusiastic Devonian, Mr. W. H. Hamilton Rogers, gave free expression to the poetic feelings it is so well fitted to inspire : The broad Atlantic bends before thy throne, Its rocky footstool with white lips hath kist, Where, granite-brow’d, thou sit’st in grandeur lone, Thy temples wreathed with heaven’s unsalted mist. Feet in the brine, and face veiled by the cloud, And vesture still by changing Nature wrought ; Titan of earth and sky, silent and proud, Even beauty, kneeling, hath her homage brought: Time as a shadow sweeps across thy plains, Leaving no record of his printless feet; Thy glances follow, as one who disdains To stop a foe ’tis aimless all to meet; And all our generations come and go, As snowflakes on thy shoulders, melting slow. We have described the appearance of Blackdown, with its projecting spurs and intersecting valleys, as seen 8 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE from rival heights, but hitherto we have said nothing of the aspect it presents to the low-lying country which lies like a sea around it, and which the geologist knows as the triassic area. Contemplated from this inferior region, the long level outlines lose something of their rigidity, and the scenery acquires a greater diversity. Depressed peaks with gentle slopes falling away on either side now alternate with stretches of flat summit flanked by. less elevated terraces. This is really an ocular illusion, for while perhaps there is a slight undulation, the effect is due far more to the irregular configuration of the table-land, which produces a tricky perspective. The advanced portions show as peaks or plateaux, according as they are viewed directly or obliquely, while the parts which recede look as if they were much lower. It would be paradoxical and absurd to speak of the Blackdown Hills as wooded, but the slopes of the pretty coombes near Hemyock and Dunkeswell are clothed with plantations, which form an agreeable contrast with the generally bare summits. Then, too, there are striking atmospheric effects. Referring to the pits and grubbings for scythe-stones, to the north of Broadhembury, Mr. Ussher calls attention to the way in which the patches of pale buff sand exposed here and there on the slope catch the fugitive gleams of light, which they reflect with wonderful brilliancy. Elsewhere he observes : “ The slopes of the Blackdowns often present most beautiful contrasts of light and shade, as when their contour is veiled in one of those tender hazy tints that the humid atmosphere of Devon so often imparts to distant ‘objects, and the light from a rifted cloud streams bright on some grassy slope, From a drawing by Frits Althaus. BEACON HILL. THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 9 or kisses the hillside with a subdued beam, whose borders melt away in bluish or purplish greys.” Such treats are the free gifts of Nature, but man also, though by mere accident and as the result of strictly practical operations, brings to pass at a certain season—namely, in the spring—a superb pyrotechnic display. There is some amount of furze on the Blackdowns, and plenty of grass, and these are things— the uninitiated would hardly suspect it—which benefit by being burnt. It serves them, in fact, as a sort of annual “cure.” So there has been established a pleasant custom whereby gorse fires are for a short time of daily occurrence. The reflection spreads around for miles, and in some neighbourhoods people not in the secret are alarmed by what they suppose to be big farm-fires. At Culmstock they know better, and there at times the scene is magnificent. The adjacent hills seem one mass of flame, often no fewer than five— Hackpen Hill; Beacon Hill, Hillmoor, Sampford Hill, and Maidendown—burning fiercely at the same time ; and the village is lit up with reflections from the nearer heights. Such a spectacle will live long in the memory of any one privileged to witness it; and as the late Archbishop was doubtless of the number, we should think that the experience was one which came back to his mind most forcibly in visiting and meditating on his Blackdown home. The custom of burning moors, by the way, is known in Devonshire parlance as “swaling.” The occurrence of the suffix “pen” in “ Hackpen” deserves notice, as there are other “pens” in the neighbourhood. Three miles away is Upcot Pen, and about midway between them is what is now generally IO EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE described as Blackborough Beacon. The picturesque little knoll, however, has an older name, which is still not quite forgotten; and this older name is “ Mortal Pen.” Now these are all projecting spurs, and, having regard to the exposed positions, which would have been utterly unsuitable for folding sheep, we are driven back on the conclusion that the term is just the well- known Keltic word for “head.” Mortal Pen supplies one more proof of the unwisdom of prophesying with- out knowledge. Not very long ago there circulated in the neighbourhood—we doubt if it does still—an old couplet, which ran thus: When Mortal Pen Beacon sinks under the hill, Then, I reckon, the whole of the world shall be still. This may have been merely a poetical rendering of a much commoner proverb, “ When the sky falls, we shall catch rooks,” and expressed the rhymester’s conception of an extremely improbable event, but there is a weird- ness and mystery about this utterance which takes it quite out of the category of common sayings, and does infinite credit to the unknown seer. Unfortunately for both seer and saying, Mortal Pen Beacon as sunk under the hill. At all events, the outlier has subsided to a lower level than the main mass, and this, while admitting the convenient ambiguity of the oracle, we take to be the meaning of the fateful words. What has occurred to bring about this curious state of things ? The answer is as follows : Two or three generations ago there seems to be no doubt that Blackborough (or Mortal Pen) Beacon was of the same height as the adjacent table-land, the proof being that boys used to survey the table-land THE BLACKDOWN RANGE II from the fir-trees growing on the “pen.” Mr. Downes, who visited and reported on the locality in 1880, averred that he had abundant concurrent testimony that from this point it was possible to see as far as a place called Hanger Hedge, more than a mile distant to the south- east. Then it was found that Mortal Pen contained whetstones, and the auri sacra fames, which has been accountable for so many acts of desecration, urged the inhabitants of Poncheydown to make an organised attack on the Beacon, which they completely disem- bowelled, boring a tunnel right through the middle of it. The inevitable result was a settling of the ground, which, it may be, is still in progress. Even then they were not satisfied. At the same time that these in- dustrious vandals turned the hill inside out, they stripped it of its heather and sward, which had served as its external protection, and laid bare its surface with the plough. The soil being light and sandy, and lying on a steep slope, is in consequence washed away in large quantities by the rains. While these two causes are productive of the same result, it is the settling of the ground, consequent on the many pits and shafts which have penetrated its interior, and of which, in numerous cases, no trace has been left, that has cul- minated in the miracle whereby Mortal Pen has lost quite thirty feet of its height. From the tops of its fir-trees nothing can any longer be seen of the adjacent table-land, nothing even of its surface; and in that sense Mortal Pen Beacon has sunk beneath the hill. At the base of the Blackdown beds at the whetstone pits we find about twenty-five feet of homogeneous rusty-coloured rocksand. Above this rocksand lie the beds quarried for whetstones, perhaps about twenty-five I2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCITBISHOP TEMPLE feet thick, leaving another twenty-five feet or so for the superincumbent chert and flint. Dr. Fitton thus divides the middle beds or zones: Reddish sandrock. “Fine vein.” Concretions of firm consistence, used for scythe-stones. Two inches to one foot. “Top sandrock.” Sand with irregular concretions ; of no use. Three to four feet. “Gutters.” Concretions of stone in four or five courses in the sand. This bed is most commonly used for scythe-stones. Three to five feet. “Burrows.” Stone and sand of the same kind, but used only for building. Two to three feet. “Bottom stones.” A range of concretions affording excellent scythe-stones. Two to six inches ; sometimes as much. as five feet. “Rocksand.” Chiefly sand with fewer concretions ; of no use. Four feet. “Soft vein.” Concretions which afforded excellent scythe-stones. Two to six inches. Another authority observes: “ Lithologically, the Blackdown Hills may be said to consist of (1) an im- persistent capping of chalk flints in a clayey matrix ; (2) chalk beds of varying thickness; (3) greensand, containing highly fossiliferous bands with concretions, the whole being very nearly horizontally stratified.” Although we have ourselves employed the term “ green- sand ” for the sake of convenience, this being a technical expression, we do not on that account commit ourselves to any opinion of its appropriateness. Any Blackdown man will testify that the so-called greensand is yellow ; and exception was taken to the term by the late Sir Roderick Murchison, who wittily remarked that he had THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 13 only two objections to the name—firstly, that the deposits:so called were not green ; and, secondly, that they were not sazd. Mr. Downes, however, maintained that locally there was some justification for the term from the presence of chloritous grains in what he will not allow to be other than sand. He points out also that moisture and ferruginous bands have much to do with variations of colour. “The physical features,” he continues, “are those which the greensand of the western counties almost invariably exhibits. Blackdown may still be called table-land, though it is deeply furrowed by streams, which cut right through the greensand to the red marl beneath. Its outline is very irregular, but the practised eye can easily trace it at a distance of many miles. From the fact that it yields to pluvial denudations far more readily than the red marl, it shows, where it caps the red marl, a steeper slope than that of the underlying deposit. There is generally also a difference in the character of the vegetation. Both these features are well exhibited in the country around Sidmouth. The observer standing on Salcombe Hill-may trace the line of junction ata glance, looking inland along escarpments and outliers, and then verifying his observation in the coast sections below. The peculiarity of outline is rather obscured in the region of the Kentisbeare and Broadhembury whetstones by the talus of refuse which has been shot out of them, but it is clearly traceable again to the north at Hackpen, and at Culmstock Beacon.” Mention of the “talus of refuse” brings us back to the fact that the greensand beds are highly fossiliferous. This is not the place for an exhaustive list of the fossils discovered in them, and from a scientific point o view I4 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE it is much to be lamented that no attempt was made to assign them to their respective zones until Mr. Downes arrived during the last throes of the industry. The method of collecting Blackdown fossils was of the most haphazard description. Many years ago, when the operations at the whetstone pits were in full swing, it would have been possible with care and diligence to establish a valuable system of classification, but almost invariably—perhaps, after all, there was no help for it—collectors did not obtain their specimens on the spot, but purchased them from the quarrymen. The latter soon recognised that there was a market for the abundant fossil fauna, so wonderfully preserved in chalcedony. So when’ a quarryman, driving out a barrowful of refuse, reached the light, he looked to see whether there was a sufficient number of fossils, and those in good enough preservation, to make it worth his while to put them aside. Should that prove to be the case, he would thrust them in his coat pocket, breeches-pockets, dinner-basket, and indeed any place where they would be safe for the moment. By-and-by the hour arrived for leaving work and going home, when the valuable contents would be transferred to the pig’s bucket or an old hat, such being the recognised cabinets for articles of vertu. After a while perhaps the same quarryman meets with another find, or, it may be, several in another zone, in another pit, and in another part of the hill. However, the various fossils are all consigned to the same pig’s bucket, until it is too full to contain more, and all the old hats and bonnets in the house are in a state of similar confusion. When at length the collector appeared, the quarryman himself would have found it difficult to remember where THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 15 he had dug out particular specimens. The collector probably never thought of asking. Delighted to secure the precious hoard, for which he speedily found room in his portmanteau, he hastened on his way, and the quarryman, now that he had the jingling perquisite, saw no reason for detaining him. Blackborough is a microscopical parish, four miles south of Culmstock. So small is it that it does not appear in some maps of the county, and in many © respects it may be considered a dependency of Kentis- beare, itself not over populous. Half a century ago, we are informed, the incumbent was an Oxford first- class man named Thompson, who read with pupils; and among the latter was the well-known humorist, Sir F. C. Burnand, of Punch, and the late Mr. James Payn. In the old days all the grindery for miles came from this neighbourhood, the name given to it being “Devonshire batts”; and for this reason the Blackdowns were commonly referred to as _ the “Scythe-stone Hills.” The whetstone pits are situated close to Blackborough Church, and extend as far as Hembury Fort, a distance of a mile and a half. As we have intimated, the stones suitable for sharpening scythes are embedded in sand, which, as we are no longer talking in the dialect of science, we shall venture to describe as yellow. To give the raw stones a plain face women chipped and “yowed” them with a rubber—z.., another stone—having first placed them in a tub of water to soften them and render them more responsive to the hewing process. A stone twelve inches in length would be considered valuable, while large stones, ineligible as grindery, were named “ builders’ stones.” The galleries were propped 16 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE up with posts, and at intervals there were “ thirt-holes,” where a whetstoner would stop and draw up his barrow, to allow another to pass. The country was simply honeycombed with these galleries, so that it resembled a big warren. It was a dangerous locality to traverse by night, as a man might fall into a pit, and never come out alive. If any of the whetstoners got buried in the sand, his comrades scooped him out with their hands. For the inhabitants generally, and for occasional visitors, there is no more healthy neighbourhood than the Blackdowns. The elevated situation, the breezes fresh as ever swept over cliff or moorland, and the springs of pure water gushing out at the junction of the red marl and yellow sand combine to render these hills a perfect sanatorium. It was far different with the whetstoners, whose occupation, unfortunately, was very unhealthy ; and few of those regularly employed in the industry lived to old age. The truth is, the fine silicious dust, resembling powdered glass, produced the same effects on the workpeople as are found among the needle-filers of the northern counties. The particles, flying from the chipping tool, were inhaled, and set up an irritation of the lungs, with the result that fine men often died of consumption before they had quite reached middle life. One of the most interesting things in Blackmore’s Perlycross is Dr. Fox’s account of his nocturnal visit to the whetstone pits. With sundry trifling omissions, for which we humbly apologise, the narrative is as follows : “From Priestwell [Prescott] I came back to Perlycross [Culmstock], and was going straight home to see about my letters, when I saw a man waiting at the cross-roads THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 17 for me, to say that I was wanted at the whetstone pits, for a man had tumbled down a hole and broken both his legs. Without asking the name I put spurs to Old Rock and set off at a spanking pace for the whetstone pits, expecting to find the foreman there to show me where it was. It is a long roundabout way from our village, at least for any one on horseback, though not more than three miles perhaps in a straight line, because you have to go all round the butt of Hagdon [Hackpen] Hill, which no one would think of riding over in the dark. I should say it must be five miles at least from our cross-roads. “Old Rock was getting rather tired. However, we let no grass grow under our feet ; and dark as the lanes were, and wonderfully rough, even for this favoured county, I got to the pit at the corner of the hill as soon as a man could get there without breaking his neck. Well, you know what a queer sort of place it is. I had been there about a year ago. But then it was daylight ; and that makes all the difference. I am not so very fidgety where I go, when I know that a manis in agony, but how to get along there in the dark, with the white grit up to my horse’s knees, and black pine barring out the moonshine, was—I don’t mind confessing it—a thing beyond me. And the strangest thing of all was, that nobody came near me. I had the whole place to myself, so far as I could see—and I did not want it. “T sat on Old Rock, and I had to sit close, for the old beauty’s spirit was up, in spite of all his weariness. What got into his old head, who shall say? But I failed to see the fun of it, as he did. There was all the white stuff that comes out of the pits, like a great cascade of diamonds, glittering in the level moonlight, 2 18 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE with broad bars of black thrown across it by the pines, all trembling, and sparkling, and seeming to move. Those things tell upon a man somehow, and he seems to have no right to disturb them. But I felt that I was not brought here for nothing, and began to get vexed at seeing nobody. So I set up a shout, with a hand to my mouth, and then a shrill whistle between my nails. The echo came back very punctually; but nothing: else, except a little gliding of the shale, and shivering of black branches. Then I jumped off my horse, and made him fast to a tree, and scrambled along the rough bottom of the hill. “There are eight pits on the south side, and seven on the north, besides the three big ones at the west end of the hill, which are pretty well worked out according to report. Their mouths are pretty nearly at a level about a hundred feet below the chine of the hill. But the tumbledown—I forget what the proper name is—the excavated waste, that comes down, like a great beard, to the foot where the pine trees stop it “«Brekkles is their name for it, interrupted Mr. Mockham ; ‘dvekkles or brokkles—I am not sure which. You know they are a colony of Cornishmen.’ “Yes, and a strange, outlandish lot, having nothing to do with the people around, whenever they can help it. It is useless for any man to seek work there. They push him down the brekkles—if that is what they call them. However, they did not push me down, although I made my way up to the top, when I had shouted in vain along the bottom. I could not get up the stuff itself; I knew better than to make the trial. But I circumvented them at the further end; and there I found a sort of terrace, where a cart could get along THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 19g from one pit-mouth to another. And from mouth to mouth I passed along this rough and stony gallery, under the furzy crest of hill, without discovering a sign of life, while the low moon across the broad western plain seemed to look up rather than down at me. Into every black pit-mouth, broad or narrow, bratticed with timber, or arched with flint, I sent a loud shout, but the only reply was like the dead murmuring of a shell. And yet all the time I felt somehow as if I were watched by invisible eyes, as a man upon a cliff is observed from the sea. “This increased my anger, which was rising at the thought that some one had made a great fool of me; and forgetting all the ludicrous side of the thing— as a man out of a temper is apt to do—I mounted the most conspicuous pile at the end of the hill, and threw up my arms, and shouted to the moon, ‘Is this the way to treat a doctor?’ “The distant echoes answered, ‘ Doctor! Doctor!’ as if they were conferring a degree upon me, and that made me laugh, and grow rational again, and resolve to have one more try instead of giving in. So I climbed upon a ridge, where I could see along a chine, through patches of white among the blackness of the furze ; and in the distance there seemed to be a low fire smouldering. For a moment I doubted about going on, for I had heard that these people were uncommonly fierce with any one they take for a spy upon them; and here I was entirely at their mercy. But, whenever I have done a cowardly thing, I have always been miserable afterwards ; and so I went cautiously forward towards the fire, with a sharp look-out and my hunting- crop ready. Suddenly a man rose in front of me, 20 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE almost as if he jumped out of the ground, a wild-looking fellow stretching out both arms. I thought I was in for a nasty sort of fight, and he seemed a very ugly customer. But he only stepped back, and made some inquiry, so far as I could gather from his tone, for his words were beyond my intelligence. “Then I told him who I was, and what had brought me there; and he touched his rough hat, and seemed astonished. He had not the least difficulty in making out my meaning, but I could not return the compliment. ‘Naw hoort along o’ yussen, was his nearest approach to English ; which I took to mean, ‘ No accident among us’; and I saw by his gestures that he meant this. In spite of some acquaintance with the Mendip miners and pretty fair mastery of their brogue, this whetstoner went beyond my linguistic powers, and I was naturally put out with him. Especially when in reply to my conclusion that I had been made a fool of, he answered, ‘Yaw, yaw, as if the thing was done with the greatest ease, and must be familiar to me. But in his rough style he was particularly civil, as if he valued our profession, and was sorry that any one should play with it. He seemed to have nothing whatever to conceal ; and so far as I could interpret, he was anxious to entertain me as his guest, supposing that time permitted it. But I showed him where my horse was, and he led me to him bya better way, and helped me with him, and declined the good shilling that I offered him. This made me consider him a superior sort of fellow ; though to refuse a shilling shows neglected education.” - This description is just a little fanciful. It is not true, for instance, that the whetstoners were a colony of Cornish people. There may perhaps have been THE BLACKDOWN RANGE 21 Cornishmen among them, as was only probable in a flourishing mining industry, but the bulk of the whetstoners were natives. Nor, again, were they of that savage and exclusive temper which Blackmore represents. They certainly intermarried with the in- habitants of the neighbouring villages, for a Culmstock man, eighty-six years of age, informs me that both his aunts married whetstoners. He himself, in his visits to the pits, saw no signs of any extraordinary ferocity. Country-folk generally were rougher in their habits than they are now, and there was often a degree of rivalry between Perlycombes and Perlycrosses, but the whetstoners were decidedly not regarded as outlaws and foreigners. There are only a few of them now, these being employed by a Mr. Redwood. Practically, the industry has been extinct for many years, for the sufficient reason that whetstones of a suitable quality have become extremely scarce. Whilst they held out, the business is said to have been a paying affair. The whetstones were usually disposed of to an agent at Honiton, but at the many fairs held in the neigh- bourhood the whetstoners were their own merchants. At Tiverton fair, for instance, they might be seen standing behind their wares, which were erected in pyramidal form, and chaffering with the farmers and others who came to buy. Lastly, a word as to the iron pits. Several local writers have referred to the existence of pits of various sizes and depths to be met with on the wild tops of many of the high hills in the district. Some of these pits have been obliterated in the process of cultivation, but not all. They occur on the Blackdowns, Ottery East Hill, and other places ; Dunkeswell Common being 22 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE as good a spot as any. As has been said, the pits are of various sizes, they are very irregular, and, for the most part, contiguous. There are instances of pits large enough to accommodate a horse and carriage. We have seen that above the greensand is a stratum of flints and clay, and above this a subsoil bed. It is in this last that iron ore—the sort known as surface iron—is found. It is odd that they should have dug so many separate pits or “pockets,” but this was the process. The smelting was carried on elsewhere. Great quantities of scoria have been discovered at different spots in the Blackdown country. There is a large heap at Clivehayes Farm, Churchstanton ; and formerly a similar quantity was to be seen at Bower- hayes Farm, near Dunkeswell Abbey. Smaller heaps might be found in a field at Tidborough, near Hemyock, and at Kentisbeare, Culmstock, Uffculme etc. These are supposed to be indications of the enterprise of the Romans, or of Romanised Britons. The Blackdowns, perhaps, were too far from the sea to attract the attention of the Phoenicians, the great metallurgists of antiquity, but seeing that traces of them have been discovered as far inland as Rhodesia, we cannot be sure that they did not try their luck here, coming up from Sidmouth or Seaton. CHAPTER Tl FROM AGE TO AGE T the close of the preceding chapter we slid, half- unconsciously, into history, or archeology, but before alluding to either Roman or Phcenician, we referred more than once to Hembury Fort, which for various reasons is the most remarkable of the many “castles” with which the country is studded. This, then, shall serve as our starting-point in the journey through the ages. Hembury Fort surprises not so much by its size as by its situation and strength, and cannot be looked at without admiration. Travellers on the London and South-Western Railway on their way to town will not fail to observe on their left the bold eminence crowned with huge earthworks, which, if they have good sight, they will likewise be able totrace. The fort is distant some three miles from Honiton, and appears to have been one of a chain of fastnesses wherewith the old inhabitants of Devon defended their borderland against the incursions of their Dorset neighbours, the Duotriges, with whom they probably lived in a state of tribal warfare. The ancient British chief who fixed his eyry on this elevated spot must certainly be credited with excellent judgment, as it was not only a difficult place to storm, but an 23 24 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE admirable look-out station commanding the plain over which the enemy would have to advance. Hembury Fort is of ovate form, and measures 400 yds. in length and 130 yds. in breadth. Was this fort ever occupied by the ema We cannot be sure. In the J/ézmerarzes of Antoninus and Richard of Cirencester mention occurs of a Roman post called Moridunum, which lay between Durnovaria, or Dorchester, on the east, and Isca, or Exeter, on the west. The name “Moridunum” has been considered to be a Latinisation of the more ancient British form Moéry-dun, signifying a town or fortress on a hill by the sea, and therefore Camden, Gale, Stukeley, and other authorities agree in preferring High Peak Hill. Apart from this supposed derivation, there is nothing to choose between the two sites, for both Hembury and High Peak Hill tally with the /inerarces, and are at the required distance from Exeter—fifteen Roman miles. Mr. Hutchinson, who at first supported the traditional opinion, subsequently hit upon another derivation— More-y-dun. More simply means “great”; and the name Move-y-dun, standing for the Great Castle, or Town, or Hill Fortress will very well apply to Hembury Fort. It is expedient to remember, however, that these time-honoured remains are scattered abundantly over the hill-tops that frown on the vale of Honiton—pro- bably no district in England is richer in them. Almost every swelling prominence has its entrenched fortress, and some of these fastnesses are so extensive that a small army would have been required to defend them against attack on every side. Possibly therefore there may be other claimants to the honour of representing Moridunum, though, estimating by the test of distance, FROM AGE TO AGE 25 the chances lie between Hembury Fort and High Peak Hill. If it had been the latter, perhaps Antoninus would have stated that it was a maritime station, instead of leaving this to be inferred from dubious etymological evidence.. If ever there were Druids in Devon, which Mr. R. N. Worth has taught us to question, Hembury Fort must have formed part of the military preparations of which those hierarchs were excused from any share. Antiquaries of the old school will rejoice to hear that there formerly existed on Uffculme Down a precious Druidical relic—or, possibly, their joy will be overcome by grief at its disappearance. We refer to a small enclosure believed to have been ancient, and known by the name of “Pixie Garden.” It was twenty or thirty yards square, and in the middle, according to an old man called Baker, was a “mump,” or mound. The enclosure was divided into four compartments by inter- secting hedges, and Lysons, who remembered the place well and had often jumped over the hedges when a boy, speaks of a mound in each compartment. These were levelled at the beginning of the last century by the cultivation of the land. Pennant in his Scotch Tour describes square enclosures, in which the ceremonies of the Bel-tein were practised on the first of May, the fire being in the centre. Those who are unwilling to share Mr. Worth’s heresy will no doubt trace a connection between the northern and southern evidences of the ancient cult. It is not worth while to linger further over this obscure period, or to ask whether they were long-headed or round-headed men who constructed these forts and officiated in these groves. Rather let us pass to the 26 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE somewhat distant era when the last Roman legionary had quitted these shores, and the land had become Christianised. In Tennyson’s /dylls of the King the reader will find the following lines, which are more pertinent than he will be inclined at first to suspect : The brave Geraint, a Knight of Arthur's court, A tributary prince of Devon, one Of that great Order of the Table Round, Had married Enid, Yniol’s only child, — And loved her, as he loved the light of Heaven. * * * * * And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart Adored her as the stateliest and the best And loveliest of all women upon earth. And seeing them so tender and so close, Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint. But when a rumour rose about the Queen, Touching her guilty love for Lancelot, Tho’ yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard The world’s loud whisper breaking into storm, Not less Geraint believed it; and there fell A horror on him, lest his gentle wife, Thro’ that great tenderness for Guinevere, Had suffer’d, or should suffer, any taint In nature: wherefore going to the King, He made this pretext that his kingdom lay Close on the borders of a territory Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights, Assassins, and all flyers from the hand Of justice, and whatever loathes a law: And therefore till the King himself should please To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm, He craved a fair permission to depart, And there defend his marches; and the King Mused for a little on his plea, but, last, Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores Of Severn, and they past to their own land. Speaking of this prince, Dr. Guest writes: “In the FROM AGE TO AGE 27 days of Geraint, Domnonia, though stripped of half its provinces, must have been, both in power and dignity, the first of British kingdoms” ; and there has been pre- served a famous letter written to this ruler by Aldhelm, abbot of Malmesbury, in 1705, the year in which the latter was summoned by Ine, King of Wessex, to be the first Bishop of Sherborne. The Latin inscription is very remarkable, and has been thus rendered by Dr. Guest: “To the most glorious lord of the western kingdom, whom—He that searches hearts and weighs our actions is my witness—I love with brotherly affec- tion; to King Gerontius, and at the same time to all the priests of the Lord scattered throughout Domnonia, Aldhelm, abbot, etc., sends greeting in the Lord.” After stating that he derives his authority from a synod of priests drawn from nearly the whole of Britain and assembled for the purpose, he goes on to say that rumours have reached the synod that the priests of Domnonia fell very far short of the Catholic faith, thereby giving rise to grave schism and cruel scandal. The two points of failure were refusal to submit to the tonsure of St. Peter, chief of the apostles, and the non-observance of the rule of the Council of Nice respecting the observance of Easter. The reasons given for adopting the Roman tonsureare: first, that it was a commemora- tion of Christ’s crown of thorns; secondly, that it was a means whereby the priests under the New Testament might be distinguished from those under the Old; thirdly, that Roman prisoners of war were commonly crowned with a garland. The mode of computing the fall of Easter is explained with sufficient learning, and enforced by an appeal to St. Augustine, after which follows a passage of more interest to us, since it throws 28 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE light on the relations between the Welsh and English churches at the commencement of the eighth century : “ What a wide departure is it from the Catholic faith and from Gospel tradition, that the priests of the Demetz [Welsh] on the other side of the Severn Sea, priding themselves on the nicety of their private and personal living, shrink in abhorrence from communion with us. So much so that they will not condescend to join us in divine service in church, nor to take their meals with us side by side in friendly fellowship at table. They even cast away the fragments of their food, and the broken meat from their tables, to be devoured by hungry dogs and filthy swine. Their vessels and cups they throw down, to get such cleansing and purification as are to be had from the sand and dirt of the floor, or the ashes of the fireplace. They offer us no friendly salutation, no kiss of holy brotherhood is given, as according to the apostolic precept—‘Greet ye one another with a holy kiss’ No water and napkin is provided for cleansing the hands, no basin for washing the feet; notwithstanding that the Saviour, having girded himself with a towel, washed the disciples’ feet, giving as an example ‘As I have done unto you, even so do ye unto others.’ Nevertheless, if any of us, that is to say, the Catholics, visit them for the purpose of taking up our abode with them, we are not admitted to the society of our guild [or convent] before we have passed forty days in penitence. In this respect they hold an unhappy resemblance to those heretics who make a profession of purity, that is tosay, of the cleanli- ness of the body.” He then implores the fraternity and beseeches them on bended knees, by their common hopes of a heavenly FROM AGE TO AGE 29 kingdom, no longer to reject the teaching and decrees of the blessed Peter, or to despise the tradition of the Roman Church. Whether his previous irony and reproaches were calculated to win them or bring about a reconciliation, must be a matter of opinion. However, the controversy of theologians was soon to yield, for a time at least, to the clash of swords. The year 710 is one of the landmarks in local history, for then “ Ine and Nun, his kinsman, fought against Geraint King of the Welsh (Weala).” In the passage above quoted Tennyson, it will be observed, speaks of “ this pretext,” but the allusion to bandit earls, and caitiff knights, and assassins, whether it be intended so or not, may be read as a poetic version of the initial skirmishes preceding the general advance and victory of the West Saxons under their great King Ine. The alien hosts were opposed by “the most glorious lord of the western realm,’ Geraint, and the final battle was fought on the crest of the Blackdown Hills, when the King of Wessex defeated the King of Dyfnaint (Devon) and Geraint and his followers turned their faces from the English, and fled, leaving their arms and spoils to the pursuers. In this desperate encounter one of Ine’s ealdormen, Sigvald or Higebald, was slain, and possibly, though there is no mention of such an occurrence, his kinsman, Nun or Nunna, also. About two miles and a quarter east of the Wellington Monument, and not far from Forches Corner (so called because a gallows—/urce—once stood there), was to be seen in 1836 a large tumulus, known as Noon’s Barrow, which is believed by a competent authority to have marked the site of Nun’s burial-place, and that of the great battle. Noon’s Barrow has vanished 30 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE in all but name, and in the same manner Simonsborough, a spot about half a mile south-east of the Wellington Monument, at a cross-roads on the brow of the hill, has lost the tumulus which caused it to be so designated. That such a tumulus existed, cannot well be doubted, for Simonsborough hamlet, Great and Little Simonsborough farms, Great Barrow Close and Little Barrow Close have all been named after it. Some antiquaries suspect that “Simon” is a corruption of “Sigvald,” the name of Ine’s man slain in fight, but, unless there has been some confusion, it is much more likely to represent “Siegmund.” This name is familiar to us from the Nibelungenlied, and who shall say that snatches of the old Germanic epics may not have been borne by Saxon adventurers to their new homes in the west? Still, this particular Siegmund had certainly no connection with the Blackdown Hills. According to tradition a British chieftain, Simond or Simmond, was killed in battle and buried on this spot; and it was the belief of the country people in the neighbourhood that the barrow could never be reduced in size, because if stones were removed from it, others by supernatural agency were put in their place. At length a hardened sceptic named James Bale resolved to subject this cherished faith to a practical test. The venerable legend was, as the result, found to be untenable, but the triumph over superstition involved the sacrifice of the ancient cairn, of which, as has been stated, there is no longer any trace. Now, the boundary between Devon and Somerset presents this peculiarity, that it does not, as in other cases, follow the watershed of the hills, but cuts off, as it were, the heads of three Devon streams—the FROM AGE TO AGE aE Yarty, the Otter, and the Culm. Why isthat? Probably because the limits of England and “Wales” remained fixed for fifty or sixty years after this battle, when the boundary line was drawn to the south of the fortress of Neroche, which must have been stormed by the Saxons, at the fords of Yarty, and Otter, and Culm, where it still lies. At the same time a rampart was thrown up by the conquered to mark the new limits ; and in those parts of the hill-country which are yet in their wild state can still be traced the old mound, with the ditch always to the north, proving it to have been a barrier raised by the south against a northern enemy. When the Saxons again advanced, it was probably along the line of the Devonshire Axe, and then they came to stay. By that time the boundary had become so firmly established that the Defnas, as the new settlers were called, adopted it as the dividing line between themselves and the Sumersztas, or people of Somerset. It is thought, however, that the Saxons obtained possession of Devon as much by colonisation as by conquest. Probably, from time to time, bodies of immigrants were allowed to enter the British kingdom, where they settled, forming their “tuns,” or clusters of residences, on the banks of streams. Whether they had to seek special leave from the British kings, whether they were subject to any duty or service in return for the privileges accorded them, are difficult questions, but that the fatal practice of admitting the foreigners prevailed, to the undoing of the more ancient inhabitants, seems in every way probable. How else can we account for the circumstance that in the year 700 there flourished in the city of Exeter a Saxon school capable of impart- 32 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE ing adequate religious instruction to Winfrith, afterwards the great St Boniface, the apostle of the Germans ? “Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,” in a green combe at the source of the Culm, stands all that remains of Dunkeswell Abbey, which was founded by William Lord Brewer in 1201. Two years before, this great nobleman, as pious as he was rich, had purchased the manor of Dunkeswell from either Henry de la Pomeroy or William Fitzwilliam, who, “compelled by his necessities,” had mortgaged it to one Amadio, a Jew; and this, together with much other land in the neighbourhood, was given by the munificent baron to the new abbey, which was colonised from Ford, and by consequence Cistercian. The term “Cistercian” is derived from Cistertium, or Cisteaux, in the diocese of Chalons ; and the members of this order were called white monks from a white gown or cassock they wore at church. According to one authority they adopted this white habit in obedience to the command of the Blessed Virgin, who appeared to St. Bernard, the founder of a hundred and fifty houses ; and to her most of their monasteries, Dunkeswell among the rest, are dedicated. Referring to the particular vocation, the daily round and common task, of the Cistercian monk in the thirteenth century, Mr. Brooking-Rowe remarks that it must have required no small confidence in his powers of endurance when the novice took the vows that bound him for life to the austerities of the order. “The monasteries,” he says, “ were situated in secluded spots, so as to render any intercourse with the outside world difficult. The food of the inmates was of the plainest kind, silence was rigidly enforced, communica- tion within the walls was carried on mainly by signs, Ay aff Wai ' Mil i hice Misa From a drawing by Frits Althaus. THE RUINS, DUNKESWELL ABBEY, FROM AGE TO AGE a the fratry or day-room had no fireplace, and was exposed to the rigour of the weather, one end being left open to the air; and when the poor monk, after perchance his supper of fruit and herbs, sought his dormitory, the cold night air played about his hard couch, admitted by the slits in the long wall, unglazed and unshuttered, which served as windows. The stranger or wayfarer was hospitably treated, but not allowed to enter the refectory or cloister. Luxury, ease, and the ordinary comforts of life were frowned upon and for a long time banished. Labour and prayer, prayer and labour, alone occupied the thoughts of the Cistercians. “They were the farmers proper of the monastic orders. While other communities had their mills and granges, mainly for their own use, about them, the Cistercian made agriculture his business, and sent the product of his land forth for the use of the outer world. In every Cistercian house were two classes—the monks proper and the conversi, the masters and servants. Both classes took the vows; but the lives of the conversi were spent mainly in labour upon the farms and other menial work, performing such religious duties only as might reasonably be expected from lay-folk who had to obtain their livelihood by the sweat of their brow. They were the poorest of the poor, and often the vilest, and many sought the convent when no other door was open to them and death stared them in the face. Taken in hand by the monks, compelled to earn their bread, they soon became useful, and the outcast of society found in the Church a shelter denied them by the world.” Speaking of the principle on which the Cistercian made choice of a site, Mr. Brooking-Rowe observes : 3 34 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE “His habitation was far from the haunts of men, in a valley, and, as far as possible, in the narrowest part of it ; and close to a river the settlement was made. Insuch a situation in many a fertile spot throughout England the farmer-monk made his home, and the situation of this abbey (Dunkeswell) is very secluded, but very beautiful and very characteristic of a Cistercian selection. In five of such localities in our fair county (Buckfast, Buckland, Newenham, Ford, and Dunkeswell) members of the order, at varying intervals, took up their abode. The earliest house was founded in 1137, only nine years after the first—that of Waverley, in Surrey—was planted in England, and the remaining four were established at different times—one in the twelfth and the other three in the thirteenth century.” During the rule of Abbot Thomas, whose name occurs as early as 1253, the possessions of the monastery were greatly increased by exchanges and dealings with the Prior of St. John of Jerusalem; and later we find the abbey holding the manor of Broadhembury. Like other owners of property in those turbulent days, the monks did not enjoy their own in perfect security. The farmstead known as Dunkeswell Grange is situated on St. Cyres’ Hill, hard by the River Wolf; and a little to the north is Dunkeswell Turbary, which was also part of the abbey land, and where the hill-folk possessed the right of cutting turf. This was perhaps the principal scene of the agricultural operations carried on in connection with the monastery. But Dunkeswell Abbey doubtless had more than one grange. (A Cistercian abbey in Gloucestershire had ten granges in the parish of Margam alone, and many more outside.) One such grange, it is pretty FROM AGE TO AGE aS certain, was to be found on Hackpen Hill, close to Culmstock, for, as is shown by an ancient coroner’s roll, during the reign of Edward the First one John Cogan, of Uffculme, was ringleader in a violent trespass on the manor. The sacrilegious ruffians broke into the abbot’s houses and ejected the monks and conversi, or lay brethren, beat and wounded the abbot’s servants, drove out more than sixty oxen and twenty cows (with the result that two oxen perished), made off with the much-prized pitchforks, and committed other damage. This performance was pretty scandalous, and the monks might have claimed our entire sympathy were it not for the fact that they were themselves by no means immaculate. Preserved in Bishop Bronse- combe’s register is an interesting record showing the value they placed on holy things. It appears that the bishop’s predecessor, William Brewer (1224, 1244), said to have been grandson of Lord Brewer the founder of the abbey, had made over to the, monks the parish church of St. David at “ Doddeton.” Although the building had been granted to their use, no doubt there had been a tacit assumption that, as religious men, they would not abuse the gift. But that is precisely what they did. They not only appropriated the land, but suppressed public worship, sold the church bells and cast out the fonts. In a word, they completely secularised the church, and thus rendered it available for any profane purpose they might find convenient. For these heinous acts they were very properly called to account, and having confessed their misdeeds and expressed themselves willing to make satisfaction, were ordered to restore 36 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE the church to its proper rank, and provide for the celebration of divine service. They were empowered to take the rents and revenues, but it was stipulated in the episcopal ordinance that, if the land of the parish should fall into the hands of secular persons, service was to be performed by a secular priest. The date of this instrument is February, 1259. There has been some discussion as to the identity of “ Doddeton.” The word looks as if it might stand for Doddington, but apparently there is no place of that name on or near the Blackdowns. It is a fact, however, that the manor of “ Donitone” had been bestowed by William the Conqueror on the abbey of St. Michael in Peril of the Sea, in Normandy ; and was therefore, if we may venture the expression, in the ecclesiastical market. Moreover, at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries the place had a freechapel. The late Mr. J. B. Davidson was of opinion that the manor of Donitone occupied the western half to the parish of Yarcombe, where the name Den- nington occurs in connection with an estate called Dennington, a farm (Little Dennington), and Denning- ton Lane. From these evidences of unworthiness it is refreshing to turn to the simple piety of a Culmstock layman, John Prestecote, who died about 1412. Prestecote’s will contains some interesting items. He left two legacies—-one of a mark, or thirteen shillings and four- pence, and another (in a codicil) of sixty shillings— towards the cost of a bell in Culmstock Church, which bell, there is reason to surmise, still exists. The third bell in the tower, which is reputed to be oldest bell in the deanery, and, unlike the others, has never been FROM AGE TO AGE 37 recast, bears the original Latin inscription, AVE MARIA GRATIA PLENA, with the monogram R. S. Now Prestecote gives directions that his body shall be buried in the chapel of the Blessed Mary at Culmstock —most likely a chantry within the walls of the church, to which he bequeaths many vestments, and ornaments, and books. Among the vestments was perhaps the ancient cope which hangs against the chancel wall. Similar gifts are bestowed on a chapel which he mentions in one place as his chapel ; and an idea prevails that traces of this building may be seen in the founda- tions of an old cottage at Prescott. The testator further directs that each chaplain present at his funeral shall receive sixpence—a larger sum then than now—and any that are blind twopence. Other amounts are devised to lazar or leper houses at Exeter, Totnes, Plympton, and Honiton—a circumstance which throws a strong but consolatory light on the ravages of that awful scourge in fair Devon. To his daughter Joan are bequeathed two oxen, two cows, and forty sheep, a bed suitable to her rank, and a best cloak of scarlet cloth lined with fur. To Walter Northcote, Prestecote leaves his steel armour, except his sword, with all his books on the law of land; and to the prioress of Polsloe, Exeter, his best silver cup with cover—called “ Franceys”—to remain at Polsloe Priory for ever, and be designated “ Prestecote” in memory of the donor. With reference to Prestecote’s sepulture, a curious discovery was made in the spring of 1903. Ata certain point the south wall of Culmstock Church projects two or three inches in an outward direction, and the Vicar (the Rev. T. S. Rundle), having long suspected that 38 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE something was here built up, caused a portion of the stonework to be removed. The result was that part of an ancient monument, or handsome altar tomb, which must have extended two or three feet into the church, was brought to light. A recess corresponding to the arch over the tomb has since been made, and the only thing now visible is a portion of one of the ledges. For the information of visitors the vicar has posted the following notice in the church: “This stone was reopened to view on April 17th, 1903, after having been built in and plastered over for nearly a century. It has been sadly mutilated, and the more important parts, including a figure of the person to whose memory it was built, have been entirely destroyed, together with the mouldings round the arch. Some fragments of stonework were found when the tomb was opened. The stone ledge now visible probably supported the upper part of the tomb. “It is not known to whose memory the tomb was erected, but it is conjectured that it may be the tomb of John Prestecote, of Prestecote, a wealthy parishioner. He was buried at Culmstock about 1412.” We must now proceed with our account of Dunkeswell Abbey, which flourished for nearly three hundred and fifty years, and probably during the later stages of its history underwent the same sort of changes which we find in other Cistercian establishments. As is well known, the zeal and activity of the order became greatly enfeebled by the wealth of the monks and the gradual abandonment of the austere life to which they had been originally attached. The lay brethren, or con- versi, were no longer welcome at the abbeys, farming was given up, and the granges and other lands leased FROM AGE TO AGE 39 to secular holders. Thus, at the beginning of the sixteenth century the abbots had become great land- lords ; and, as was the custom of monastic dignitaries, the abbot of Dunkeswell had a town residence in Exeter, somewhere in the parish of St. Paul. The abbey adopted the arms of the founder, William Lord Brewer—two bends wavy; and the fine common seal, upwards of three inches long, represents the Blessed Virgin, with saints on either side, all under canopies. Unluckily there is only one impression of the seal in existence, and that very mutilated. Underneath the saint on the sinister side of the middle figure is a shield with the Brewer arms. There has been pre- served also an impression of the abbot’s counter-seal, which is of vesica shape and about one and three- quarters of an inch long. The abbot is represented in a standing posture, and holding his crosier in his right hand. The last abbot was John Ley. He was confirmed by the Suffragan Bishop of Exeter in 1529, and ten years later surrendered his house to the King’s Com- missioners. Altogether there were eight monks in the abbey at the time of the surrender, and with regard to two of them, something is known of their subsequent fate. John Gay was appointed on the dissolution perpetual curate of Sheldon, a former possession of the abbey ; and the abbot himself, on the death of Thomas Chard (or Tybbes), last abbot of Ford, in 1546, became vicar of the neighbouring parish of Payhembury. The annual revenue of the abbey had been nearly 4300. This, of course, was now confiscated, and the site of the monastery buildings, the home farm and mill, and other lands were granted to John Lord Russell. The tower of the church contained, at the dissolution, four bells 40 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE of the value of £28 5s. These also passed to the new — owner of the abbey lands. As the entry on the subject expresses it with prosaic and business-like brevity : “My Lord of Bedford had the leade w™ the gifte of the lande,” and, ringing the changes on these words, Mr. Brooking-Rowe continues: “My Lord of Bedford took care to appropriate the lead, without reference to the preservation of the fabric, with everything else capable of being turned into money; and the grand buildings, for such they must have been, and the de- spoiled abbey soon shared the fate of many a stately monastery, for centuries the home of labour, thanks- giving, and prayer.” When we contemplate the vandalism involved in these reckless acts and yet more fatal neglect, we cannot restrain a feeling of indignation at the conduct of those responsible for them ; but that not insignificant body of our countrymen who look back with un- disguised sympathy to the medieval type of religion may be excused for entertaining even deeper sentiments. Something of the horror with which such proceedings inspire them is reflected in the beautiful lines, On the Dissolution of the Religious Houses, by the late Rev. J. M. Neale. The poem is too long to be quoted in its entirety ; the reader must therefore be content with excerpts. The Abbey Church is dedicate ! ’Tis glorious to behold Tall arch, slim shaft, and goodly pier, And shrine that flames with gold. The rich deep hue of storied glass, The vaulting groin on high, The Rood Screen with its serges seven, And carvéd imagery : FROM AGE TO AGE 41 Pier behind pier, and arch o’er arch, That lead both heart and view Where the high altar stands to close That matchless avenue. * * * * * The Abbey Church is desolate! The Abbot’s faithless hand Surrender’d up to tyrant sway Both revenues and land; No more the Matin-songs of praise, Nor Holy Vespers, rise; Hush’d is the voice of Compline, ceas’d The Daily Sacrifice: They break the glass, they melt the brass, They strip the massy lead: They rifle for their lucre The cerecloths of the dead: They laugh to scorn the humble prayer Writ o’er the senseless clay, That asketh ‘‘Of your charite A Paternoster say”; They overthrow the altar tomb With effigy and lore, “For Jesu’s tender love in peace Repose they evermore”: For windows rich in imag’d Saints The pink May blossom glows ; For frescoed roof and gilded shrine, The nightshade and the rose: You meet the rude, loud voice and jest, The viands and champagne. Or from the heartless connoisseur, In studied phrase, you hear Of light and shade, and heat and warmth, Of capital and pier: Or the philosopher will teach, How superstitious rite And ancient mummery have fled Before Religion’s light! 42 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE With such strong denunciations ringing in our ears, we approach with rather more than ordinary trepidation the last stage of our subject, lest, in seeking to point out the artistic features of the old abbey, we may qualify for the description of ‘heartless connoisseur.” Our chief regret, however, is that so little remains on which to centre one’s attention. At the corner of a cottage in which dwells that modern representative of the lay brother, the sexton, stands the grand entrance to the abbey—a broad perpendicular arch ; and the gatehouse, with its windows and winding stone staircase, belongs to the same style of architecture. Inside the gateway was probably a large outer court, but the ground is now occupied by a vegetable garden, through which a path leads you to the site of the old conventual church, on the north side of the abbey. Despite the modern chapel-of-ease which has been erected on the same spot, it is not difficult to observe the shape of the more ancient building. In a meadow outside were ranged in a straight line extending some two hundred feet south- ward the abbey buildings. They appear to have formed one side of a square which constituted the abbey precinct, at the extreme edges being a few pieces of broken wall. In dry summers the outlines of the buildings may be traced from the grass over the founda- tions becoming quickly scorched. It would seem that a long passage extended from the transept of the church, and on either side of this long passage were chambers, while at the end was a much larger room. The present churchyard being on the site of the abbey church, when graves have been dug near the modern edifice skeletons of the monks have been dis- FROM AGE TO AGE a 453 interred. The ancient mode of burial appears to have been as follows: No coffins were used, but the bodies were laid in the soil, and a row of stones was arranged over them in the shape of a roof, which prevented the earth falling on them.» A number of encaustic tiles, portions of pillars, and carved stonework have been brought to light, and many of the old tiles have been utilised in the pavement of the new church. Some of them display a shield cheguy; on others are figured an elephant towered and a lon rampant between crosslets. The most singular discovery yet remains to be told. We have already stated that in dry weather traces of the conventual buildings are still discernible, and we have drawn particular attention to the large room at the end of a long passage. In this room, at a short distance from the wall, a small square was observed to become dry so much more quickly than other portions of the ground as to excite remark and awaken the belief that beneath lay something peculiar. The ground was opened, when there were discovered, about two feet from the surface, two large stone coffins, placed side by side. These coffins measured 6 ft. 6 in. in length, and were of the usual type, having a circular depression for the head, and a smaller furrow for the heels. The covers, which were of Purbeck marble, had been polished, but, apart from the ancient cavetto moulding round the edge, there was no ornament. On the lids being raised, two perfect skeletons were disclosed, and these a surgeon of the neighbourhood pronounced to be male and female. The bones, having been deposited in the more ruinous of the two coffins, were buried within the confines of the old abbey church, 44 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE while the better coffin was left above-ground in a corner of the present churchyard for the gratification of the learned. We,tremble to think what Dr. Neale would have said about this. The “heartless connoisseur” has indeed been coddled ! Meanwhile, the question may be asked, Who were the occupants of the coffins? Well, there ought to be no doubt as to the answer. Lord Brewer, as we have seen, was buried in the abbey ; and the other skeleton was probably, almost certainly, that of his lady. But this, if it be admitted, still leaves a question un- answered: How was it that these great people were interred so far from the abbey church? Probably at that time what we have spoken of as a “large room” was an ancient chapel, which was in existence prior to the erection of the conventual church. After the latter was completed, the remains were not disturbed and their resting-place was perhaps retained as a chantry in which masses were sung for the repose of the benefactors’ souls. Concerning the architecture of the church, no record or tradition exists to attest its style, but capitals of columns and fragments of polished marble shafts, which are being constantly discovered in the soil, cause it to be assigned to the Early English or lancet period. Its dimensions were undoubtedly large; and the monastic buildings as a whole were on an imposing scale. The western tower has fallen at a comparatively recent date. The Reformation was not altogether popular in the West of England, and the measures taken to enforce it led in 1548 to a serious rising, in the suppression of which the Carew brothers, Sir Peter and Sir Gawen, FROM AGE TO AGE 45 took a considerable part. Sir Gawen, who was the fourth son of Sir Edmund Carew, of Mohuns Ottery, resided at Wood, the ancient seat of the Whytings at Kentisbeare, on the western slope of the Blackdown Hills. He was thrice married, and his second wife was Mary, daughter of Sir Robert Wotton, Comptroller of the Household to Henry, and widow of Sir Henry Guyldford, K.G. She “lyethe buried” in Whyting’s aisle in Kentisbeare Church, and over the high tomb is a brass containing an inscription to her memory and a confession of the Protestant faith. Although Dunkeswell Church is modern, it contains something as old as the abbey church, from which indeed it may have come. We refer to the fine circular Norman font with its roll of castle twist sur- mounted by an arcade that forms a wreath round the bowl and is adorned with figures, one of which is a bishop in the act of blessing. Even more remarkable is the square Norman font in the neighbouring church of Luppit, on which are carved heads and what appears to be a representation of a hunting-scene, for gracing the foremost animal are the long ears of a hare. The meaning of the name Dunkeswell (pronounced Dunkswell) is somewhat obscure. The old form was “ Donkewell,” but we cannot be sure that the appellation had aught to do with asses, especially as dun is a well- known Keltic term for hill, of which numerous examples might be culled from the West Country. “ Dunkeswell,” says Polwhele, “signifies the hill with the clear well.” We sincerely hope it does, although, if this be the meaning, it makes a curious hybrid, and we do not know that Polwhele is a person to swear by in matters " ‘i 46 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE of etymology. However that may be, there is a notice- able well in the village, which is called after St. Patrick, and the village revel is, or was, held on St. Patrick’s Day, and, for that not absolutely conclusive reason, the parish church is believed to be dedicated to the patron saint of Erin. CHAPTER III POT-POURRI FTER a brief halt we resume our pilgrimage, still pursuing the same method of recalling the great events of history by the aid of local illustrations. We stated in the previous chapter that the abbey of Dunkeswell in the thirteenth century acquired the manor of Broadhembury. It remained the property of the fraternity until it was seized by Henry VIII. who bestowed it on Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton. Henry Wriothesley, his grandson and the man to whom Shakespeare dedicated Venus and Adonis and the Rape of Lucrece, sold it to Edward Drewe, serjeant-at-law to Queen Elizabeth ; and Edward’s son Thomas built about 1610 the manor-house—a stately mansion known as the Grange, probably because it was erected on the site of one of the granges belonging to the abbey. The name of Broadhembury calls up recollections of Augustus Montague Toplady, author of “Rock of Ages,” who was vicar of the parish from 1768 to 1775. The inhabitants are naturally proud of the connection, and visitors are often attracted to the scene of Toplady’s labours among the western hills. Mr. Rogers tells a quaint story that has come down from the days when the hymn-writer drew breath in the village : 47 48 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE “A very aged inhabitant, whose years had reached within three of fourscore years, and who was still hale and active, told us that in his younger days he re- membered those who had known and heard Toplady, and spoken of his kind sympathetic disposition, and his fervour as a preacher. From him, too, we heard the story of the poet’s going out into the lanes and woods at night, clothed in white (his surplice, doubtless) singing his hymns as he walked, often to the terror of . his simple-minded parishioners, who deemed they saw an apparition, until undeceived by their pastor’s kindly voice,” The Blackdown people are rather prone to believe in supernatural visitants, the “ Christmas ghost” being quite an institution. A few years ago a peaceful house- hold at Blackborough was awakened in the small hours of the morning by groanings unutterable. For a moment consternation prevailed, and then with fear and tremb- ling the male members of the family prosecuted a search for the hobgoblin. They found, however, nothing more uncanny than an itinerant tinker asleep on his back in the hayloft, and suffering from a bad attack of eguzna noctis complicata. Harking back to the seventeeth century, we naturally look for traces of the great Civil War, and are not entirely disappointed. One of the few medizval fort- resses in the neighbourhood was Hemyock Castle, of which there are still a few remains. At the entrance of the castle were two round towers with a portcullis, and the whole was enclosed with a moat. Portions of four towers and the gateway and part of the moat comprise all that is left, and these are fast falling into decay. The castle was probably erected by one of the Hydons, POT-POURRI 49 and it continued to be the seat of that family for generations. It afterwards passed to the Dynhams, and from them to Pophams and Leighs. In the early part of the last century it was purchased by General Simcoe, who proposed to rebuild it on the original model, but the design was never carried out. We have been unable to gather any precise information on the subject, but it appears that at the time of the Civil Wars the castle was held for the Parliament, and, according to the tradition of the place, it was destroyed soon after the Restoration. From Hemyock to Culmstock is a matter of two miles or so alongia good road, and in respect of Common- wealth traditions also the two are near neighbours. The particular tradition to which we are about to refer is closely connected with Blackmore’s fancy name for the village—Perlycross. As we are dealing with etymologies, it would appear proper to bestow some passing reflections on the ordinary name. The suffix “stock” need not detain us, since, either in the present form or as “stoke,” it isamong the commonest of place- symbols. It is the former part—the name of the river —that interests us. Of one thing we may be certain— it has nothing to do with any kind of coal, but it does seem possible that an origin may be found for it in the revered name of the great Irish missionary. In old documents and maps the form “Columb” is preferred, ! Instead of carrying out this somewhat fantastic project, General Simcoe erected Walford Lodge, Dunkeswell. This. officer had had a very distinguished career, first as commander of Simcoe’s Scouts in the American War of Independence, then as Governor of San Domingo during the insurrection, and, finally, as Governor-General of Canada. 4 50 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE which is, at least, suggestive. Then the neighbourhood swarms with the names of saints, some in conjunction with “Culm” or “Columb,” others not. Thus we have “Culm John,” “Culm Davy” (or “Columb David”), and Clyst St. Lawrence. If Devon has no town or village called after St. Columba (who, the reader may be reminded, was a man), the adjacent Duchy of Corn- wall affords evidence that the celebrated Irish saint was by no means unknown in the southern part of the kingdom. Nor is the naming of a river after a saint without parallel elsewhere. The St. Lawrence, St. Maurice, and St. Francis in Canada are examples of the sort of compliment which the devout Catholic is disposed to pay to those whose aid he may invoke." Blackmore’s poetical substitute presents, apparently, less difficulty. “ Perle,’ we consider, is merely another spelling of “purl,” which is often used of streams (¢.¢., “a purling brook”); and as for “cross,” it refers, no doubt, to the cross-roads near the church. But Black- more, who was wonderfully learned in antiquarian matters—being aware, for instance, that a member of the Snell family was Mayor of Exeter, and, he might have added, member of Parliament for the city, in the seventeenth century—probably knew that at one period the spot was marked by an actual cross. In Polwhele’s time (czvciter 1800) there stood in an open space between Fore Street and Silver Street an ! While by no means pinning ourselves to this explanation, which, to be honest, we regard as highly problematical, we are hardly better pleased with Mr. Baring-Gould’s derivation—"“ Welsh cé@//; Gael. cao/, narrow, slender”; inasmuch as it entirely ignores the ‘‘m,” which, it seems to us, is just as important as the other three letters. POT-POURRI 51 old market-house and shambles, and, what is more to the point, an old wayside cross. By order of the “Church of Exeter,” to which the manor of Culmstock belonged, these buildings were pulled down, and subsequently a new market-house was erected. Hard by was an ancient building, called the Great House, which in 1778 was an inn, but in Polwhele’s time “a mere heap of stones without one tolerable room in it.” Concerning this dilapidated structure the old men of the village had an interesting story. They said it was the work of one Baker, who was stated to have held temporary possession of the manor during the Commonwealth régime. This tradition was confirmed by the date “1653,” affixed to the front. By a curious coincidence —for the Puritans were no great lovers of crosses, which they were more apt to pull down than to set up—the erection of the wayside cross was also assigned to the same Master Baker. We are tempted to brush aside this account as too improbable, but it receives perhaps some support from the fact that house and cross were built of the same material, and in the same style. (Baker, of course, may not have built the house at all.) When packhorses, once so largely employed, were superseded by waggons, the cross, it is averred, was removed so as to allow of more room for the vehicles to pass. All traces of these old buildings have long since disappeared. A wild country like the Blackdowns is a likely resort for fairies, who love desolate places. Hence it was a happy idea of Richard Bovet, a member of a well- known Wellington family, to write and publish, as he did in 1684, that valuable work of his entitled Pandemonzum, or the Devil’s Cloyster, in which has been preserved é iy. 52 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE much curious information regarding seventeenth-century elves that might otherwise have been lost. “The place,” says he, “near which they most ordi- narily showed themselves was on the side of a hill called Blackdown. Those that have had occasion to travel that way have frequently seen them there, appearing - like men and women of a stature generally near the smaller size of men; their habits used to be red, blue, or gfeen, according to the old way of the country garb, with high-crowned hats.” That these fairies should be fond of dancing will surprise nobody who has the least acquaintance with the manners and customs of their fantastic realm ; and, lest we should forget, there are pixy-rings in the meadows where they hold their revels on moonlit nights in summer. We must confess, however, to some little astonishment on reading that this particular tribe kept fairs. The fact leaked out in a somewhat curious way. A farmer was returning one night from market when he saw a great array of fairies, and, being of an in- quisitive disposition, drew near to learn what they were at. Now fairies have a great abhorrence of being overlooked, especially by mortal eyes; and when they are offended, possess both the will and power to punish. So the upshot was that the foolish farmer was im- mediately struck lame and went a-crippling all his days. “There were some,” says Bovet, “whose names I have now forgot, but who assured me that they had at many times seen this fair-keeping in the summer time, as they came from Taunton market; but that they must not adventure in amongst them, for that every one that had done so had received great damage by it. Any person who is incredulous of what is related ‘ POT-POURRI 53 may, upon inquiry of the neighbour inhabitants, receive ample satisfaction not only as to what is here related, but abundantly more, which I have heard solemnly related by them.” Culmstock village stands in a peculiar relation to the Blackdowns, being, as it were, the toll-gate to civilisation. We cannot hope to rival by our own feeble efforts the happy description of the place by its loving son, R. D. Blackmore, whose nature-pictures are always of supreme excellence; and the time has already come when Temple’s parish should receive more particular notice. “The old church standing on a bluff above the river is well placed for looking up and down the fertile valley. Flashes of the water on its westward course may be caught from this point of vantage, amidst the tranquillity of the ancient trees and sunny breadths of pasture. For there the land has smoothed itself into a smiling plain, casting off the wrinkles of hills and gullies, and the frown of the shaggy brows of heather. The rigour of the long flinty range is past, and a flower can stand without a bush to back it, and the wind has ceased from shuddering. “ But the Perle [Culm] has not come to these pleasures yet, as it flows on the north side of the churchyard, and some hundred feet beneath it. The broad shallow channel is strewn with flint, and the little stream cannot fill it, except in times of heavy flood, for the main of its waters has been diverted to work the woollen factory, and rejoins the natural course at the bridge, two or three hundred yards below. On the further side, the land runs to the barren height of Beacon Hill, which shelters Sir Thomas Waldon’s house [Axon?—see 7/ra], 54 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE and is by its conical form distinct from the other extremities of the Blackdown Chain. For the southern barrier of the valley (which is about three miles wide at its mouth) is formed by the long dark chine of Hagdon [Hackpen] Hill, which ends abruptly in a steep descent; and seeing that all this part of the vale, and the hills which shape it, are comprised in the parish of Perlycross [Culmstock], it will become clear that a single parson, if he attempts to go through all his work, must have a very fine pair of legs, and a sound constitution, to quicken them.” Of the church, which is dedicated to All Saints, we have before spoken and shall have occasion to speak again. Here we must be guilty of an act of treason against Blackmore’s “heights of history,” as he terms his romance, for at Culmstock you shall look in vain for the black ruins of an abbey, against which the grand old church is said to stand forth in the grey power of life. What the novelist seems to have done is to have brought the abbey, or the ruins thereof, bodily from Dunkeswell, where such a scene presents itself. The embattled tower offers several points of interest. Rather low, it is exceptionally capacious, and, unlike the generality of its type, possesses a turret. With regard to the interior, the visitor will be much struck with the appearance of the belfry. For the purpose, one may presume, of swinging the bells, the wall has, to a great extent, been cut away. This defect, however, is to be remedied. At one time the tower contained a gallery, and, curiously enough, access to this gallery was obtained by the ordinary belfry stairs. The oaken door leading to it is very old, so that the gallery would appear not to have POT-POURRI 55 been of modern erection. The wall at this point is over five feet thick—which suggests the obvious criticism that, if many church towers are so constructed, it is no wonder that they have successfully withstood the worst effects of time and weather. The most remarkable feature of the tower has yet to be mentioned. This is a yew-tree which springs out of the south face, from a ledge running under the parapet. Naturally Blackmore has a word to say on this extraordinary tree, which from its insecure foot-hold so boldly flaunts the empyrean. “ This tower,” he says, “ was famous among its friends, not only for substance and height, and proportion, and piercings, and sweet content of bells; but also for its, bold uplifting of the green against the blue. To wit, for a time much longer than any human memory, a sturdy yew-tree had been standing on the topmost stringing-course, in a sheltering niche of the southern face, with its head overtopping the battlements, and scraping the scroll of the south-east vane. Backed as it was by solid stone, no storm had succeeded!in tugging its tough roots out of the meshes of mortar; and there it stood and meant to stand, a puzzle to gardeners, a pleasure to jackdaws, and the pride of all Perlycrucians. Even Mr. Penniloe, that great improver, could not get a penny towards his grand designs, until he had signed a document with both churchwardens, that, happen what might, not a hair of the head of the sacred yew-tree should perish.” No certain information can be given as to the history or origin of this singular “freak.” The topic is briefly discussed in a guide-book of 1858, wherein it is stated that none of the old people then living could furnish Te ae “ 56 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE any account of the matter. All they could say was that the tree had been there ever since they were children ; hence the writer concluded, fairly enough, that it was at least a hundred years old. At that rate its present age must be a century and a half, but it is probably more. The tree is said to be “going back,” and we fear the impeachment is true. It shows un- doubted signs of failure. Some of the upper branches have died and been removed, and those which remain appear to lack nourishment. In Temple’s boyhood the boughs were strong enough to support a man, and a lad of fifteen, named Jones, is remembered as sitting out amongst the branches, thus, as our older divines would have expressed it, “tempting Providence.” The commonly accepted version of the growth of the tree in so unexpected a quarter is that the seed was carried up by the wind or a bird from one of the yews in the churchyard, settled in the mouldering mortar, germinated, and brought forth a yew. On the cover of the book of Culmstock churchwardens’ accounts may be found the following statement, certified to be copied from the title-deeds of the Prescott estate : “ The yew-tree standing between the church porch and the chancel door was planted by John Were, of Gulliford, in this parish, at his own charge, the 16th day of February, 1718, which was thirteen years at that time arising from the berry.” This tree no longer exists, but it may well be that the yew-tree on the tower is the product of some of its seed. Culmstock folk take a deep interest in their trees, as witness the following notice at the commencement of the same book: “Two horse-chestnut trees were planted in the church- “HOATUH MOOLSW’TNO ‘SUDYNV SA AQ Surmpap 0 MOAT ss i POT-POURRI 57 yard, one near the eastern, the other near the western end, on the 30th of October, 1809, being the fifth day after the day which was set apart for a general jubilee to commemorate the commencement of the fiftieth year of his Majesty King George the Third. The nuts from which the trees sprang dropped from a tree in his Majesty’s garden at Richmond, and were picked up and planted at Bridwell, in the parish of Halberton, in the year 1801, by Richard Hall Clarke, Esq. They are to be called the Jubilee Trees, and it is to be hoped they will not be injured or removed so long as they produce a green leaf. Planted by Henry Southey and others in the presence of James Hellings and Captain Jewell Collier, Churchwardens, Robert Fry, Captain Ist troop Cavalry, East Devon Legion.” Here are two items relating to the subject in the accounts proper—viz., “ Paid for drawing the Jubil [szc] trees from Birdwell [phonetic for Bridwell], 3s. ; and for planting ditto, 3s. 6d.” One of the trees is now gone, but the other still flourishes, a conspicuous object in Culmstock Churchyard. To the inhabitants of Culmstock, who have not many public structures, and especially to the more juvenile members of the community—happy youngsters! they have yet a relish for the wonderful in nature and in art, and thus resemble their remote ancestor, the noble, untutored, unsophisticated savage—the bridge is something to contemplate and pride oneself on. It originally consisted of three arches, one of which was swept away by a flood, and in 1774 two arches were built to take its place. “In Polwhele’s time” there are said to have been six arches, five for the main stream, and one at some distance from the rest, for the water of 58 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE the mill-stream. There is no reason to doubt the accuracy of this report, for the “lake” has been diverted from its ancient channel, which lay through the garden of the Railway Hotel. The square brick arch, which has been inserted with no great taste at the southern end, is designed to carry off the superfluous water of the main stream. This at ordinary times is not much, since the mill-leat performs the duty to admiration, and in- deed much impoverishes the river from which it derives its sustenance. Well, we do not think that any visitor of intelligence will seek to flatter his sense of personal superiority by professing not to like Culmstock bridge. The bridge itself is worth looking at, but the sight is rendered infinitely more charming by the weir which stretches immediately below, and over which the reunited stream falls softly, like the rustle of silver lace. We are speaking now of its normal conduct, for the Culm is at times a great transgressor, and instead of resembling a modest and dainty lady, descends with all the fury of an Amazon. Blackmore describes the river under both aspects. In Cvocker’s Hole he says: “ Culmstock bridge is a very pretty place to stand and contemplate the ways of trout, which is easier work than to catch them. When I was just big enough to peep above the rim, or to lie upon it with one leg inside for fear of tumbling over, what a mighty river it used to seem, for it takes a treat there and spreads itself.” And in Perlycross a huge deluge consequent on a thaw is thus pictured. “ The Perle [Culm] became a roaring flood, half a mile wide in the marshes ; and the Susscott brook dashed away the old mill-wheel, and whirled away some of it as far as Joe Crang’s anvil, fulfilling thereby an old POT-POURRI 59 prophecy. Nobody could get—without swimming horse or self—from Perlycombe [Hemyock] to Perlycross [Culmstock], or from Perlycross to Perliton [U ffculme] ; and old Mother Pods was drowned in her cottage. The view of the valley from either Beacon Hill or Hagdon [Hackpen] was really grand for any one tall enough to wade so far up the weltering ways. Old Channing vowed that he had never seen such a flood and feared that the big bridge would be washed away ; but now was seen the value of the many wide arches which had puzzled Christie Fox in the distance.” Other persons besides Christie Fox, who know the Culm only as a petty stream, will be inclined to treat this account as incredible, but we do not think it is a bit exaggerated, or, if so, only slightly. Talk to old villagers like William Shaddock, who has lived for many years in one of the cob-built cottages bordering the river, and they will tell you how the Culm has stood in those cottages breast-high, while it has poured in enormous volume over the hedge which rises loftily on the other side of its broad bed. It has to be re- membered that the main current is reinforced at such times, from its well-head near Dunkeswell downwards, by a number of small contributory streams, which under the influence of heavy rains, rapidly assume the character of torrents. Anything more discomforting to the riverside people can hardly be imagined, but some of the cottagers, at all events, seem to have taken these visitations philosophically, and even with humour. Old Mrs. Frost, who dwelt near Culmstock bridge and was therefore in the heart of the hurly-burly, to escape a wetting mounted her table. Presently the influx of water lifted and moved the article of 60 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE furniture on which she had sought refuge, when the cheery old dame exclaimed, “ Now we're off!” Next to, or perhaps before their bridge, the Culmstock folk are deeply interested in their beacon, which is a potent source of attraction to outsiders. It stands at the western extremity of an elevated plateau, the sides and summit whereof are clothed with abundance of fern and heather, and it is approached by a somewhat rugged lane branching off from one of the two roads leading to Hemyock. Where the lane ends a steep path begins, plentifully strewn with grit-stones, but resolving itself, in its topmost stage, into. a sort of glacis, bare of foot-holds and exceedingly slippery. Arriving after severe toil at the object of our quest, we are rewarded by one of those magnificent prospects for which the Blackdowns are famous, and somebody has been good enough to provide seats for weary wayfarers—a thoroughly charitable act. The beacon itself is a small dome-shaped building open at the top and pierced, if we may borrow a term sanctioned by ecclesiologists, by two “squints.” A doorway is there, but no door, and within are circular seats, whereby hangs a tale. Many years ago, when Samuel Townsend kept the Tuns, it was not the custom for country people to patronise banks, and so mine host had bestowed the twenty sovereigns which he had laid by to pay his rent in a cash-box. The cash-box was missed, and Townsend, much upset, “gave information.” Inquiries showed that the precious receptacle had been taken out into the meadow by a lodger or some one acquainted with the servant-girl, and the wretch confessed that he had concealed his share under the seats in ae —— POT-POURRI 61 the beacon. His story having been verified, he was marched off to Justice Clarke at Clayhidon, committed to the assizes, and transported. The charred appearance of the roof would indicate that the beacon has been applied to its intended use ; and probably at one time it supported a brazier. We are afraid, however, that Culmstock beacon, in its individual capacity, has no history. With regard to beacons in general, we learn from Lord Coke that before the reign of Edward III. they consisted merely of stacks of wood set up in high places. Under that warlike and prudent monarch pitch-boxes were substituted, and in times of danger watch was kept at the beacons, by most of which troops of horsemen called by the queer name of hobbelers were stationed to give notice of the approach of anenemy. The erection of beacons was a branch of the royal prerogative, and the care of them was entrusted to one or more of the adjacent hundreds, while the cost of maintaining them was defrayed by a tax levied on each hundred by the sheriff of the county. Somehow we cannot persuade ourselves to assign the existing beacon so ancient a date, and we feel it a sufficient tax on our historical conscience to admit the possibility of its going back to that great crisis in the life of the nation when swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame spread, High on St. Michael’s Mount it shone ; it shone on Beachy Head. Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along its southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire. We harbour no doubt, however, that the beacon has blazed on many occasions of national importance, and sent up a column of jubilation when tidings of victory 62 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE reached the parish, as must have been the case during the long struggle with France in the days of Bonaparte. Archbishop Temple had a great love for Beacon Hill, and during one of his occasional visits to his property remarked to an old retainer, “Oh, for half an hour over there!” whilst he regretted that his busy life and many duties rendered such a pleasure unattain- able. As a boy, however, we think he must have been far more attracted by another and more imposing structure reared on the same table-land. For this, as we shall see, he had probably a particular reason, but, whether he had or not, the sight of the Wellington Monument must have suggested to him, as it suggests to us, the inquiry, What precisely was the Iron Duke’s connection with the neighbourhood ? Apparently it was very slight. Still, there seems to be no doubt that he took his title as marquis, and afterwards as duke, from the Somerset town and not from the town in Shropshire. In 1813, having received from Parliament a grant of £100,000, he acquired possession of the manor of Wellington with hereditary rights. In 1814 the Duke paid a visit to the town and met with a public reception, which, we believe, presented no unusual features. The inhabitants, how- ever, atoned for any lack of originality on the occasion by the festivities with which they celebrated the con- clusion of peace in that year. These were on so grand a scale that we can well fancy that some of his older neighbours may have poured into young Temple’s attentive ear glowing accounts of the fine doings in the town, when the Marquis became a duke. It has been mooted that the elaborate nature of the pro- ceedings was “a plant.” From the purchase of the POT-POURRI 63 manor the inhabitants drew the not unreasonable conclusion that the Duke either intended or might be induced to fix his residence at Wellington, and by the warmth and energy of this celebration they did their best to encourage him. levis \Tuesday, and the 28th of June; The firing of cannon and the ringing of bells usher in as lovely a morning as ever smiled on the earth and bid the townsfolk prepare for the delights of the day. In an incredibly short space whole streets are adorned with rare and radiant devices, which the vanity of the good denizens assures them are out of all whooping, and defy imitation. Here a beauteous festoon of evergreens, entwined with flowers, sur- mounts the blessed word “ Peace,” spelt in bold and well-shapen letters of laurel. A few steps farther, and the eye falls on cornucopias—we know not, and care not, whether there be a classical plural—with gracious bending wheat. There a wide spread of oak marks a house-front, even to the uppermost windows with their vases of flowers ; and, best of all, over the gateway of the White Hart, lo! Peace, her foot planted on a globe, and compassed with laurel. For private decorations, so much. At the west entrance of the town springs, wide and lofty, a triumphal arch of oak and laurel, over the midst of which beams, in counterfeit presentment, the gay and smiling and good-humoured countenance of Mr. John Bull; and that his mood may not lack apology, over the whole wide roadway extends the inscription : John Bull has done his duty. At the east entrance stands a companion arch decked ee 64 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE with the portrait of the Duke and a motto so large that it almost shouts: Long live the Duke of Wellington. At nine o'clock the items that are to compose the gorgeous pageant begin to gather in the big field on the west ; at eleven, formed into their places, they set out on their march churchwards, a vast concourse rapturously applauding them. The order of procession is as follows: Gentlemen of Wellington, four abreast. Three Trumpeters. Captain C. Bellet—Herald—Captain W Bellet. Twelve Yeomen, three abreast, Four clergymen in canonicals, DUKE OF WELLINGTON. Eight aides-de-camp. Maimed soldiers and sailors two-and-two. Oxen and Plough. Music. Husbandmen’s Club Representation of a Farmyard. Women’s Society. Music. Britannia in a Car, with Shield and Trident, drawn by richly caparisoned horses. Union Society. Women’s Society. Band of Music. Two Shepherdesses leading a Lamb. Bishop Blaize. Woolcombers’ Society. Band of Music. Women’s Society. Representation of Trade and Commerce. Providing Brothers’ Society. A Loom. Drums and Fifes. POT-POURRI 65 Men Weaver's Society. Women Weaver’s Society. MusIc. Union Brotherly Society, Drums and Fifes. John Bull, accompanied by Peace and Plenty, drawn in a beautifully decorated car, by two Oxen. Sunday-School children, five abreast, Boy's School preceding. Forty Cavalry, three abreast. A bare enumeration of its component parts can convey no sufficient idea of the glories of this procession, which we may now examine in rather more detail. The gentlemen of Wellington wore white and blue cockades, and the horses they bestrode were dressed in ribbons. A “respectable person”—apparently not a gentleman —represented the Duke of Wellington. He was attired in full regimentals and sat in a gilt car embellished with laurel. The car was drawn by horses decked with white favours, and harnessed four abreast. His Grace was the object of the loud and incessant plaudits of the encircling company, and his carriage was attended by a black servant. Following the car was a troop of yeomanry, and this was succeeded by a band of music playing martial airs. Next came a company of husbandmen with wands, and a company of females in white dresses, with coloured scarves, ribbons, and flowers. Amongst the latter— and this was the case with several other societies— was one attired as a queen, and over her was borne a canopy surmounted with a crown. Music followed, after which appeared one of the most pleasing features of the procession. This was a lofty car whereon stood a female in the bloom of youthful beauty, representing Britannia. One foot rested on a cannon, in her right 5 | Bi arte 66 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE hand was a trident, and her left was supported by a shield. At her feet lay military trophies and the classical incidents of the character ; but, more perhaps than shield and helm, the loveliness of Britannia’s face and her dignified bearing drew torrents of applause from the gratified beholders. (Confidentially, she was a Miss Clarke.) The car, to which were attached four steeds gay with ribbons, was accompanied by a fine band playing “Rule Britannia!” After this came rustics, with agricultural implements and emblems, flags, and devices, on one of which was painted Isaiah ii. 4. The woolcombers formed a numerous body and did honour to their craft. They wore caps of vari-coloured wool in the flock and white shirts crossed by coloured scarves with blue knots. The woolpack was supported on a staff, and a most reverend-looking Bishop Blaize followed, in canonicals. He was preceded by prettily dressed boys, with small Bibles in their hands, and behind him marched a shepherd lad with a lamb in his arms, attended by a shepherdess. In this part of the pro- cession was borne a large purple flag, whereon was painted a device illustrative of the trade, with the inscription “Trade and Commerce.” On the reverse side was an animated likeness of the Duke of Welling- ton, with the motto “England’s Champion.” Next in order were the weavers attired in white shirts and pink and blue scarves, with wands, while the women were adorned with a profusion of ribbons and flowers. With them were carried two flags, one of which bore the motto “ Freedom and Independence,” and the other When the shuttle stands still, All trades go ill. POT-POURRI 67 Aloft on a car was a man actively employed at a loom. After that appeared John Bull in a rustic car drawn by four oxen. This character was admirably supported by a respectable yeoman, whose large but well-pro- portioned figure supplied a realistic portrait of the full- fed, hearty, typical Englishman. “ Typical,’ however is hardly correct, for it would have been difficult to find his fellow in the whole kingdom. His weight was twenty-three stone, and the width of his back across the shoulders just one yard two inches. He was seated before a baron of beef, which he attacked with becoming resolution. Hard by was an immense jug of strong beer, which he decanted into a glass of proportionate size. In the fore part of the car were two beautiful girls, representing Peace and Plenty. Peace showed with her olive-branch and her dove, and at her side was the sister-goddess carrying a cornucopia and a basket of fruit, and flanked with sheaves of ripe wheat. The car bore two _ inscriptions—on the front “Peace and Plenty”; on the back “John Bull Triumphant.” Then followed a representation of John Bull’s farm- yard. In the first car were seen a sheep, a calf, a pig, and an ass; in the second, standing wheat-sheaves ; and in the third, a fine collection of peacocks, guinea-fowls, ducks, geese, etc. The next item was the boys and girls of the Sunday school with ribbons and labels, on which were inscribed various mottoes—eg., “Give God thanks,” “Britons, rejoice,” etc; and a troop of yeomanry brought up the rear.” On returning from Divine service a vast number of people sat down to roast and boiled meat and 68 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE plum-pudding, which were provided for the occasion on tables; and ranged along the boards was an un- limited supply of beer and cider. In the evening there was a grand display of fireworks. It is worthy of remark that the town of Wellington, by its mode of celebrating the conclusion of peace, set an example in the way of public rejoicing which was generally followed in the West of England. . The origin of the Wellington Monument may be briefly stated. A few gentlemen of the neighbourhood being desirous of erecting some permanent memorial of the Duke’s great achievements, a meeting was held at the White Hart Inn on September 5th, 1815, when an influential committee was formed, and it was resolved to issue a circular inviting subscrip- tions, and containing, amongst others, the following paragraph : “The local advantages offered by the elevated site of Blackdown for the intended purpose is (szc) not less happily in union with the respect designed towards the noble Duke on the occasion than it is with the national object of exhibiting to the inhabitants of a vast tract of country an impressive record of the deeds of glory, which in destroying the most for- midable despotism in Europe have elevated the national character of our country into unprecedented splendour.” A second meeting was held on January 19th, 1816, at the Thatched House Tavern, St. James’s Street, London; and the Duke of Wellington, on being informed of his countrymen’s wishes, gave his sanc- tion to the project, as appears from the following letter : POT-POURRI 69 “Paris, February 18th, 1816. “My DEAR LORD SOMERVILLE,— “T received by your last post your letter of the 22nd, and [ assure you that I am much flattered by the measures which have been adopted with a view to erect a monument for the Battle of Waterloo on the estate at Wellington. “JT have received Mr. Kinglake’s report. I have so little knowledge of my own affairs, and possessing no former report to which I can refer, I can form no opinion of it. My opinion has long been that I have either too much or too little property in the neighbour- hood ; and I will readily, as depends on me, follow your advice in increasing it either by way of enclosure (sic). I shall be obliged to you if you will give such directions as you may think necessary respecting the same. “Ever, my dear Lord Somerville, “Yours most sincerely, “ WELLINGTON.” The foundation stone of the monument was laid on October 20th, 1816, but more than twelve months elapsed before its completion. In 1860 the structure had become so ruinous that it was practically rebuilt on a more imposing scale; and further repairs, we understand, were carried out a few years ago. Its exposed situation naturally renders the monument especially liable to the assaults of wind and weather. In its present state the structure contains a stairway numbering 225 steps, and the interior is enveloped in darkness—a circumstance which appears to try many people’s nerves. Upon the erection of the monument a man named 7O EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE ' : Doubledanger conceived the idea of organising a pleasure fair, which he called, after the great battle, the Waterloo Fair. He hoped to see it develop into an annual institution, and for about two years it was held on the 18th of June—the anniversary of the victory—in the open space around the pillar, after which it collapsed. Such, at least, is Mr. A. L. Humphreys’s statement, but people on the spot, who know of the fair as a matter of tradition, report that it lasted many years. It may be added that the second bell in Culmstock tower was recast in the last century “to the memory of the Duke of Wellington.” CHAPTER) SV THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS AJOR OCTAVIUS TEMPLE bought and took possession of Axon, a small estate in the parish of Culmstock, in 1830. It is only a small estate, consisting of some fifty acres, and the house, which has since been considerably enlarged, is plain and of modest proportions, the only ornament of the white facade with its two rows of oblong windows being the porch. So far back as tradition extends, it was always regarded as a gentleman’s residence, but the occupier, more for amusement than profit, usually engaged in farming. This was the case with Major Temple’s predecessor, who was not merely a farmer, but a sportsman, and kept greyhounds for coursing, a practice not imitated by the gallant major. Major Temple reserved the Entrance Field and one or two other closes for his personal experiments, and the rest of his land he let off to neighbouring agriculturists. If the late Archbishop’s father had been himself a farmer in the ordinary sense of the word, the fact would have been, of course, in no way a disgrace, but, as he was believed during his lifetime—largely as the result of his confessions—to be a son of the soil, while all the time, we are informed, he prided himself 71 72 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE in a quiet and reasonable manner on his gentle birth, it is just as well to devote a line or so to what Devonshire folk would call his “havage.” On both his father’s and his mother’s side he was, and owned himself to be, purely Cornish. His grandfather was the Rev. William Temple, who, if he did not write himself into fame, was the intimate companion of men who did. He knew Boswell, and Johnson, and Thomas Gray; revised Boswell’s Account of Corsica, and on the death of Gray in 1771 wrote a character-sketch of the poet in a letter to Boswell. Boswell published it in the London Magazine, and Johnson thought so well of the appreciation as to include it in his Lzves of the Poets. William Temple perhaps could never have indited an Elegy in a Country Churchyard, but he could and did write an Essay on the Clergy: Their Studies, Re- creations, and Decline of Influence, which proved a happy inspiration. The production was greatly to the liking of Bishop Horne, a considerable author in his way ; and his own Bishop Keppel, who presided over the yet undismembered diocese of Exeter, was stimulated to advance Temple’s worldly interests. Thus after a tough fight with poverty the essayist was at length preferred to the “best living” that Keppel had in his gift—the vicarage of St. Gluvias with the chapelry of St. Budock, in Cornwall. If 4500 a year, and a wife and family, and a country cure, and opportunities for literary study can make a man happy—and why should they not?—then the Rev. William Temple had no right to complain. He had eleven children, one of whom, Octavius, entered the army, and another, Francis Temple, the navy. The latter rose to be an i Fy THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 73 admiral, and on his retirement from the service withdrew to a small estate near Truro, where the late Archbishop frequently spent his vacations, and doubtless it was there, as well as on his father’s land, that he learned the “ploughing” of which so much has been made. Admiral Temple died in 1863. On his mother’s side the Archbishop was of very good family, she being a Carveth of Bartilever, Cornwall. The pedigree of the Carveths is given in Mr. J. Maclean’s History of Bodmin, where it is traced through many illustrious ancestors to Guy de Beauchamp, second Earl of Warwick, 1315. That Major Temple possessed sterling qualities— “principle,” as it is called in Devonshire villages—is not denied, but the verdict of some old inhabitants who survive and can remember those far-off days in Culmstock is qualified—not to say, hostile. One good deed which these critics grudgingly place to his credit was his having joined with Mr. John Short, of Prescott, in procuring for the poor of the parish fifty acres of land, at Hillmore and Maidendown, as allotments. This is conceded to have been mainly his doing, though the fact is contemplated with wonder as being out of character with his general record. Few persons, however, are aware of the immense amount of trouble which it cost Major Temple to see this scheme realised. The land was the property of the Dean and Chapter of Exeter, and he had therefore to pay frequent visits to London in order to gain the sanction of the Eccle- siastical Commissioners. As the mail-coaches are said not to have exceeded ten miles an hour, the journey to town and back occupied three days and three nights ; and, in addition to the trouble, there was the 74. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE expense. For all this he received scant thanks; and to this day he is disparaged as “ cruel to the poor” and a “born slave-driver,’ which is considered to have been his employment when he went out to Sierra Leone. Indeed, it is not too much to say that his memory is execrated by the few remaining ancients, who can look back to the time before the reform of the Poor Law, when the lax system of relief was, in many places, grossly abused. It seems that Major Temple and Mr. Short, both zealous reformers, were anxious to amend this state of things, and build a central workhouse for the Wellington Union on Maidendown, where it would be quite close to Axon and not far from Mr. Short’s hall at Prescott. Listening to the natives, one learns that a perfect storm arose over this proposal, and that in the end the guilty authors of the project were compelled to fly from the neighbourhood. The ex- pedient whereby the oppressors were finally expelled was, it is said, a threat of assassination. One fine day a suspicious-looking box was discovered on Maiden- down ; and this, on being opened, was found to contain a cat’s head stuck through with a knife, and accom- panied by a letter in which the major was warned that his hat would be bathed in his own blood. Attempts were made to identify the writer, but although many persons were called up in connection with the affair, nobody was arrested. Meanwhile, in the opinion of the perpetrators, the ruse was considered to have succeeded, for the men who had been “ bitter to the poor” and sought to break up their humble homes for the sake of public economy, deemed it for some reason or other advisable to quit the parish. Major THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 75 Temple departed to Sierra Leone, and what became of Mr. Short the villager wotteth not, but it is triumphantly asserted that Prescott became too hot for him, and in a very little while his place knew him no more. It was not only the Poor Law, however; other opinions, equally unpopular, led up to this “culmina- tion.” For one thing, Major Temple believed in the repeal of the Corn Tax, and rode into Tiverton to support the Radical candidate—the only man in the parish that did so. On the following Sunday the labourers, having been persuaded by the farmers that, should this measure pass, there would be no work for them, pulled up the sods in the churchyard, as they came out of church, and pelted him with them till he was mud all over. That the farmers and labourers should take this view of the case was, of course, not unnatural, but there was at least one person in Culm- stock who shared Major Temple’s convictions, and that was little William Lee, who lived at Red Ball. The boy did not at all appreciate the bread he was condemned to eat, as the “huds” pricked his throat ; and he boldly told a couple of farmers, who rode past him earnestly discussing the burning topic of the day, that he hoped the Corn Laws would be repealed, and then the bread would be of better quality. _ Lee, who is no longer little, but a mighty man of commerce at Exeter, tells a tragic story of the fate which over- took an avaricious farmer, who, some years later, borrowed forty or fifty pounds so as to pay his rent, whilst he hoarded his corn in the expectation of a dearer market. In the meantime Peel’s bill passed, the price of corn immediately went down, and the 76 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE farmer was ruined. This was indeed a “gamble in food.” Returning to Major Temple, he had lived a hard life. His son once described him in ambiguous, yet significant, terms as “a working-man, a soldier, who had served his country in various parts of the world,” and he probably paid small heed to sentiment and had wholly forgotten the intense convervatism that characterises West Country parishes. Had he remained at Culmstock, it is practically certain that he would never have lived down the terrible prejudice his conduct was bound to create. He had wounded the farmer and the labourer just where each was most sensitive; and, looking at the matter from their respective standpoints, one may surely find some excuse for them. But when we have allowed that the major was of an unsympathetic disposition and regarded men and women with the eyes of a martinet, we have made the utmost concession to his detractors, for there is abundant evidence that he was thoroughly just, extremely regular, and very practical and _business- like, which the Culmstock folk, some of them, were not. On the whole it might be safe to conclude that at Culmstock Major Temple was in a somewhat un- congenial sphere, but there was one element in the population, which in the early part of the last century numbered fifteen hundred, that must have attracted his regard. The militia camp at Forches Corner was within easy distance of Culmstock, and doubtless some of the lads in the parish belonged to the constitutional force. The yeomanry cavalry was certainly represented in the parish, and the non-commissioned officers, as well THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS TE as the commissioned ones, went by their military titles, which were freely accorded them by their admiring neighbours. Indeed, so far did their martial calling prevail over their civil occupation, that, in chatting with old residents, it is sometimes hard to discriminate between those carpet-knights and genuine ex-army men, who, after many years of hard service, had returned to end their days in their native village—or in some- body’s native village. Whether the Wellington Monument was an attrac- tion, or however we may choose to explain it, there is no doubt that in the parish of Culmstock, which meets the parishes of Wellington, Sampford Arundel, and Hemyock at a point between the monument and Wrangcombe Hill, there was for some time quite a colony of Waterloo heroes. We find there a retired army surgeon named Ashford, who kept a pack of harriers. Ashford had been wounded, and according to Mr. John Pook, a member of a very old Culmstock family, the way he came by his hurt was as follows: When the French were “ practising ”»—z.e.. manceuvring —just before the battle, the doctor thought he would do a little reconnoitring on his own account and crept under a hedge. Whilst in this position he was struck by a ball in the leg ; and, on the circumstance becoming known, it became a common saying in the army, and afterwards in the village, that “ Ashford paid for peep- ing.” Another Waterloo hero, settled at Culmstock, was a Captain Williams, who had been an intimate of Ashford, and, indeed, owed his life to him. We do not know the precise facts of the case, more than that Williams, when on active service, had received a dangerous gunshot wound in the head, and that 78 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE Ashford’s skill and devotion had alone, humanly speaking, saved him. Besides these officers there was a journeyman shoe- maker, William Berry by name, who had been a private in Major Temple’s old regiment and fought in eighteen engagements, including the Battle of Waterloo. Al- though now following the peaceful avocation of cobbler, he loved to talk of his perilous adventures by flood and field, and, from time to time, would stop work in order to regale the ’prentices with sensational stories of war’s alarms—how he had thrown himself flat on his stomach to avoid the effects of a bursting shell, and how men had been killed on his right hand and on his left. ‘“ Were you ever killed?” once asked a Culmstock Peterkin, but the unconscious satire, we may be sure, fell unheeded on the excitable son of Mars. Through Berry have descended some particulars— we, of course, will not vouch for their authenticity— regarding Major Temple’s life in the army. He was known in the regiment by the sobriquet of “ Blueskin,” which inevitably reminds one of “ Bluebeard,” possibly a family connection of the original. This, however, is doubtful. Careful researches have shown us that Jack Sheppard had a companion with this nickname, and a nag belonging to General Washington was likewise so distinguished. Comparison of these cases leads to no result, and perhaps one may get on a better track—that of fire and brimstone. Brimstone ~ is not only employed in the manufacture of gunpowder, but burns with a blue flame, which would probably leave a blue mark on the skin. Brimstone is further associated with the nether regions, to which Major THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 79 Temple, it is said, occasionally referred. He was a martinet in his regiment, as well as out of it, and, according to the testimony of the said Berry, when inordinately enraged at the men, he would shout: “I'll send you to Sierra Leone, where there'll be only a sheet of brown paper between you and hell.” If Major Temple really said this, it is curious, since he himself afterwards went out and died in that very place. Need- less to say, we intend no offensive or unkind suggestion. Another man who had shared in the glories of Waterloo and now resided at Culmstock was Sergeant Doble. It was commonly reported that in the later stages of the engagement the British were ankle-deep in blood, and some apprehension was felt that the troops might at last give way under the awful strain. Doble, a brave and intelligent soldier, was determined that his company at least should not set the example, and, in his broad Devonshire, he informed the few sur- vivors that he would shoot the first man that “renig’d.” It is pleasing to record that the Waterloo men at Culmstock were sober, steady men, whom everybody trusted and who never swore. Blackmore’s Sergeant Jakes may be regarded as a sort of composite photograph. The novelist doubt- less knew both Berry and Doble, but he appears to have blended them with another character—-the village schoolmaster, who was a certain William Jacobs. Jacobs had lost an arm, not in the wars, but in a woollen factory. That this way of accounting for Jakes is correct, may be demonstrated thus, if demonstration be required. The sergeant loved, and his brother wedded, that naughty but fascinating damsel, Tamar Haddon. Now the parish register, which cannot lie, 80 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE shows that Robert Jacobs married Elizabeth Haddon. The Haddons had been well-to-do people, who could walk from Beacon Hill to Hackpen Hill on their own land, but they were not thrifty, and so the property went from them. The publican’s name was not Walter, but John, and he had some spanking daughters, one of whom may well have served as artist’s model for Tamar. We write under correction, but there is reason to suspect that the name of Major Temple may be entered on the scroll of Waterloo heroes. From some remarks of the late Rev. R. B. Carew, rector of Bickleigh, who was a schoolfellow and lifelong friend of the late Archbishop, we gathered that he understood Major Temple to have been present at the battle, and the same impression obtained at Culmstock. Moreover, we have always been of the opinion that Major Temple was a rough prototype, or an ingredient in the character, of Colonel Sir Thomas Waldron, Blackmore’s “fine old English gentlemen” in Perlycross. The situation of Axon certainly agrees far better with the novelist’s description of Walderscourt than does Bradfield, the ancestral home of the Walronds, except as regards the perplexing statement that Beacon Hill was north- east of the place, which may have been either a slip of memory or a slip of the pen. As against this we must set the “facts” that Mr. Penniloe, in directing his steps thitherward from the Vicarage, crosses the Perle (Culm) by way of a plank bridge a little above the church, traverses the meadows and cornland, “ with the round Beacon Hill in front of him”; and that this path, “saving half a mile of twisting lanes,” leads him straight to the house. Waiving this point, let THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 81 us see what Blackmore has to tell of the baronet himself : “ Sir Thomas Waldron, of Walderscourt, had battled as bravely with the sword of steel as the Churchman had with the spiritual weapon, receiving damages more substantial than the latter can inflict. Although by no means invalided, perhaps he had been pleased at first to fall into the easy lap of peace. After eight years of constant hardships, frequent wounds, and famishing, he had struck his last blow at Waterloo, and then settled down in the English home, with its comforting cares and mild delights.” Major Temple was a very good judge of work, and paid his labourers and tradesmen punctually every week. He used to give his orders each morning from his bedroom or dressing-room window, and soon after- watds went round to see that they had been properly executed. He had a great objection to smoking, especially during business hours, and some of the men he employed were sadly addicted to the practice. Amongst these was Ashton, the carpenter, who was at work in the linhay just opposite the house, when he felt he must have a whiff or two, and accordingly lit his pipe. In a moment or two the major’s footsteps were heard approaching, and the carpenter, having hastily bestowed his pipe in his waistcoat pocket, resumed his task with all diligence. “ Ashton,” quoth the major testily, “you’ve been smoking again.” “No, sir,’ replied the man, with an air of sturdy innocence. “T say you have,” repeated his employer. “Why, the flames are bursting out of your pocket.” 6 82 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE The carpenter clapped his hand to his side in conster- nation, and found to his dismay that he had set fire to his waistcoat, having in the hurry of the moment forgotten to tap the contents out of his pipe. After enjoying Ashton’s confusion and alarm, Major Temple withdrew, without another word, perfectly satisfied that the carpenter had received a lesson which would have a salutary effect upon him. For a martinet, Major Temple, to judge from the stories one hears about him, was singularly placable. It is remembered that one hot summer day, two carpenters—we are not certain whether Ashton was one—left a door unhung and went off to the Red Ball for refreshment, no drink being supplied in the house. As they outstayed the statutory hour, they did not return that day, and on the morrow had to face what they had good reason to suppose would prove a severe ordeal. They skulked out of the way as much as they could, but at length the major sent a message requiring them to appear before him and answer for their crime. Fortunately, he was in a relenting mood. An abject “Beg pardon, your honour!” set everything right, and the matter was not again referred to. With regard to the circumstances of the family, it is believed that there was no lack of money whilst Major Temple was living, and if neither he nor his sons went in for any kind of sport, the reason is alleged that they were “too near.” The major was certainly mighty particular. One day he found a young boy picking up “fir-gogs” just inside his gate, and stopped his horse to inquire why he did not pick up the “ gogs ” that had fallen outside. When Mrs. Temple caught the same boy barking one of the trees in the drive, THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 83 we cannot wonder at her scolding him, albeit he in his old age holds himself immaculate and furnishes a plausible explanation of the circumstance. Major Templewas a short thick-set man,and Frederick, in growing up, promised to resemble him. The family consisted of three sons, William, Frederick, and John, and four daughters. Three of the ladies married, and were known in later life as Mrs. Thorold, Mrs. Hugo, and Mrs. Mowbray. In the days of Frederick’s boyhood the two first had already quitted the parental roof, but Mrs. Mowbray, whose Christian name was Catherine, was still single, and during the early years of the Temples’ residence at Culmstock, a schoolgirl. Jane Netta, we believe, remained Miss Temple to the end. When their father (whose advanced opinions made him obnoxious to his superiors and are thought to have been the cause of his banishment) left the parish to take up the duties of Lieutenant-Governor of Sierra Leone, Miss Catherine accompanied him. His constitu- tion, which had probably been undermined by previous service, did not withstand that deadly climate very long. At first, indeed, it was rumoured that he had been shot, but, according to the amended report, he had perished from beri-beri. So Miss Catherine re- turned alone, and in the division of labour, which was essential in an orderly family, became the farmer, Miss Netta being the housekeeper. Webber, however, a neighbouring agriculturist, was occasionally called in to consult. The late Archbishop, in his speeches, frequently insisted on the extreme poverty—even indigence—in which he was brought up. After stating that he was only thirteen when his father died, and that, as the Cue % +. > Pig 84 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE result, he had to earn his own living from the age of seventeen, he went on to remark: “ Although I had an excellent education, I had experience, nevertheless, of a great deal of privation during that time. I knew what it was, for instance, to be unable to afford a fire on cold days and nights, and I knew what it was sometimes to live upon very poor fare. I knew what it was—and | think it was the thing that pinched me most—to wear patched clothes and patched shoes. When I mention these things, I do so in order to make you understand how heartily my sympathies go with working-men. I believe there is probably at this moment not another man in England who can thresh better than I could. Threshing is gone out of fashion. It is all done by machinery now, and there are very few people who learn to thresh. I learnt to plough, and I could plough as straight as any man in the parish.” It has been asserted, perhaps on the strength of such “confessions,” that Major Temple intended his son Frederick to be a farmer, but one of that calling, who was brought into close contact with the family, is altogether opposed to the belief. There was, he thinks, no idea whatever of his gaining a livelihood in this way. In the same speech from which we have taken the above quotation, the Archbishop observed : “ My sym- pathy has always been from early childhood with those who work mainly with their bodies, because I myself was brought up amongst them.” The Nortons, who dwelt on Maidendown, would, we feel sure, have occupied a prominent place in that category, for William Norton, now of Halberton, used to fetch young Temple when he attended Blundell’s School, and his brother, John en THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 85 Norton, who resides at Old Beat, nearer the old home- stead, has still several of Major Temple’s whilom possessions in his keeping. They include a dagger, a pistol, a pick, and an iron bar for driving in posts. By the way, Major Temple had his own method of dealing with posts, which Norton cannot recollect having seen adopted elsewhere. The sharpened ends were always burnt before being driven into the soil, the object being to harden them and render them less liable to decay. Often, he says, he has taken part in the operation, in which Master John, boy-like, greatly de- lighted. The “ pitching-pick ”—z.e., the implement used for tossing hay on to a rick, and for similar purposes —bears Major Temple’s initials, “O. T.,” and Norton believes that this is the case also with certain hogsheads now on Maidendown. The major used to sell his cider at so much per hogshead, and the hogsheads were removed in a three-wheel butt. Now a three-wheeled butt is a sort of large barrow on three low wheels of solid wood, and it was used chiefly for drawing earth or manure from one part of the farm to another. John Temple, the youngest son, was full of mischief. He not only sailed toy boats on the pond, but erected a small platform, on which, knowing their aversion for water, he would deposit cats, and there they would sit and mew until Master John was pleased to release them. Both Frederick and John were high- spirited youths, and Norton well remembers them whooping along the roads in the joy of their young lives, but perfectly subdued in the presence of their mother, whom they loved and respected. Although there is no antecedent probability against the late Archbishop’s excellence as a ploughman, 86 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE it is to be regretted that we have merely his own attestation of it. In ploughing, as in other accom- plishments, experts are apt to be critical, and we cannot be sure that his high opinion of himself would be endorsed by Hodge. A late eminent professor of mathematics at Cambridge, whose parents were very poor, worked for a farmer when a boy, and was enabled to proceed to the university only through the kindness of strangers. On hearing of the young. man’s success an old farm hand could hardly credit it. “I don’t know about that,” he said, “but he was one of the stupidest boys that ever drove plough for me. I’ve droed scores of clats of ea’th at the head of en.” Reverting to Walderscourt for a moment, our own real opinion is that Blackmore, in the exercise of his novelist’s privilege, transplanted old Bradfield Hall to a site nearer Culmstock, just in the same way ashe brought the abbey from Dunkeswell; and, as we have intimated, the position of Walderscourt coincides more or less closely with that of Axon. It may be as well to quote the passage in question: “Southward stretched the rich Perle [Culm] valley, green with meadows beloved by cows, who expressed their emotions in the noblest cream; on the north- east side was Beacon Hill, sheltering from the bitter winds and forming a goodly landmark, while to the north and west extended heathery downs, with sweet short grass, knolls of Scotch fir, and gorse for ever blooming. Across these downs, and well above the valley-margin, ran one of the two great western roads, broad and smooth as a ballroom floor, and ringing some forty times a day with the neigh, and the tramp, THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 87 and the harness rattle of four steeds tossing their heads up, and the musical blast of long brass horn, or merry notes of key-bugle.” A stage or two in those days meant a fortune to a man, and it was well known on the western road that a certain mayor got about forty miles in a coach as his wife's dowry. In the West of England the mail served as a regulator, just as the sun on the hills acted as a chronometer. How did old roadside Jim know the time for easing his linen bag of its contents of bread and bacon? By the mail. Blackmore gives the names of certain coaches— the Magnet, the Defiance, the Quicksilver, and the Tallyho! These were undoubtedly the names of actual coaches. The Quicksilver, we believe, belonged to Devonport ; and, as for the Tallyho! it was described to us years ago by an old blacksmith. He said it had on the “boot” a figure of Reynard going at full speed, with a white tip to his tail. The Exeter Telegraph was perhaps the fastest coach on the road. There was no racing in the strict sense of the word, but sometimes the coachman had all he could do to keep his thoroughbred leaders from springing when they heard rival bars rattling alongside; and for ordinary persons it seems to have been really dangerous to drive on the main roads. The coaches changed horses at the Red Ball and the Lamb. The former, which stands at only a short distance from Axon, has since fallen into decay, but then possessed large stabling accommoda- tion. Blackmore calls it—no doubt intentionally—the Blue Ball; the historical Blue Ball was situated at the other end of the Blackdown Range. One day in the old coaching time Temple alighted 88 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE with his luggage at the familiar sign; and with his instinct for economy decided not to charter a convey- ance, though his impedimenta were too heavy to be carried by hand or on his back. However, he was at no loss what to do. He knew where Norton senior kept his barrow at Maidendown, and without saying a word to the owner or anybody else, wheeled it down to the inn and brought the portmanteau himself. It may be worth mentioning that, when the railway had been constructed, it halted for a long time, as regards heavy traffic, at Beam Bridge, near Wellington; and during this period the Uffculme bells were despatched to London, to be recast. The day of their return was observed as a parish holiday ; and the Uffculme band marched out to the Lamb, on the main turnpike road, to welcome them. By-and-by the cry was raised “ They — are coming!” and the band started piping to what they innocently supposed to be the eagerly awaited freight. Instead of that, it turned out to be nothing but a passing cider-press ! But it is time that we returned to the Temple sisters, Catherine and Netta. Both were exemplary young ladies, who spent little on dress, that they might have the wherewithal to assist their poorer neighbours—and they weve poor. There was no wheaten bread in the labourer’s home; and, as regards fresh meat, that was a luxury seldom enjoyed. The Temples could not help to any extent with money gifts, but they were very sympathetic. In the hall at Axon was a big cupboard containing a variety of things, such as payments for work done and goods received tied up in small bags, so as to be ready the moment they became due. Miss Netta also ran a private dis- Photo copyright George A. Deane, Rugby. DR. TEMPLE AND HIS MOTHER. ‘From a photograph taken in the ’fifties. THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 89 pensary completely equipped with domestic remedies ; and mothers of families might frequently be seen wend- ing their way to Axon, with babies on their arms, to apply for some simple drug, proved to be efficacious. On Sunday afternoon, when the maids had been packed off to church, the young ladies conducted a Sunday school for the boys and girls of the neighbourhood, and taught them the catechism. The Temples were, of course, strict Church people, and Mrs. Temple was accustomed to drive to Culmstock Church ina pony- carriage. Latterly, Miss Netta rode a donkey. It seems to have been quite fashionable at Culmstock for ladies to ride donkeys, for the two rich Miss Pooks, who married the two Collier brothers, James and John, were likewise in the habit of using these safe but woefully slow and ungainly quadrupeds. Temple himself taught in the Sunday school of the village, and there are still people living at Culmstock, Uffculme, and elsewhere who attended the school when he worked in it. The late Archbishop thus described his experiences: “I was at the time just eleven years of age, and was not very much of a teacher, I am afraid ; and certainly those who had charge of the Sunday school did not entrust very much teaching to me. But I had to teach the children to say their collects ; and I no doubt looked very formidable in the eyes of the children, because I found that a single look was sufficient to reduce every boy and girl to absolute order at once, and a teacher who can secure that is, I think, rather successful—at any rate in discipline, if not in instruction.” There can be no question as to Temple’s success in point of discipline. One day certain boys infringed the rules of the schooi, ' — i * 90 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE then held in the old Red Lion premises, and, wishing to avoid pains and penalties, resolved to be off and not to attend the afternoon service. Young Temple divined their intention, and, taking a short cut on the right bank of the stream, came up with them near the bridge. Here he seized two of the truants, marched them to church by the ears, and stood between them until the close of the service. There was a good deal of the clergyman in Temple, even as a boy, and the old folk speak of him with positive adoration. “He was a real gentleman,’ say they, “and would never pass the poorest person without recognition.” This attribute continued to characterise him through life; and a Culmstock man, if he was at all decent, was always sure of a hearty grip of the hand. Norton’s daughter, Mary, who was for some time in his service, defined this trait in an epigram. “He was my Lord Bishop at Exeter, but Mr. Temple anywhere else.’ Those who have met him on Old Boys’ Day at Tiverton, which was perhaps the next best thing to meet him as a fellow-villager, will under- stand what that means. But we are not quite sure that Mary was right. When Temple arrived at Exeter, he found residing in the city William Lee, who was born at Red Ball,’ had attended his sisters’ Sunday school, and often incurred a thrashing for showing insufficient respect to the allotments at Maidendown, which Major Temple had been at such infinite pains in providing. The finding of William was real treasure-trove to Temple, by whose invitation he spent many evenings at the Palace, and who despatched him on confidential errands to his estate on the Blackdowns. 1 Red Ball is the style of a hamlet named after the inn. ' THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS gI Between the Archbishop’s account of his entrance on the path of learning and that of the villagers there is a curious discrepancy, which we cannot explain. Temple himself stated that, until he went to Blundell’s School, Tiverton, he received no instruction except from his mother, but we have been told by several independent witnesses that, whilst at Culmstock, he attended a school kept by a Mr. Kelso. One thing is certain—namely, that neither Kelso nor his school was mythical; since we have heard enough about them to satisfy the most sceptical as to their corporeal existence. It is not a question merely of Mr. Kelso. There was a Mrs. Kelso and three Miss Kelsos, and they were all, apparently, supported by the husband and father’s professional earnings. As for the school, the building in which it was carried on had been lately an inn called the Red Lion, and an interesting specimen of its class. By the way, as this sign is fairly common in the West Country, the reader may be glad to learn its origin. Prior to the union of England and Scotland the red lion, with two unicorns for supporters, was the national emblem on the Scottish coat-of-arms. James I., substituted the lion for the wyvern of the last of the Tudors—not much to the liking of his new subjects, who gave vent to their disappointment in the nursery rhyme’: The lion and the unicorn fighting for the crown, The lion beat the unicorn all round the town. The arms thus altered were ordered to be displayed in all churches, law-courts, town-halls, etc., and the loyalty of the Bonifaces voluntarily extended the practice. 7 Q2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE The Red Lion at Culmstock was supposed to be coeval with the church tower, chiefly on the ground of the “race” masonry common to both; in other words, the two buildings were constructed of stones arranged in regular courses, the stones in each course being of uniform height. Another feature which gave distinction to the Red Lion was a handsome porch, said to have been glued on to the body of the building by the application of hot mortar. Not being a practical mason, the writer would prefer not to express an opinion on the likelihood of this story, but one may readily believe that the porch was a great con- venience, as well as ornament, to the ancient inn—at any rate, in the eyes of its patrons. After a while the Red Lion either fell on evil days or was coveted for higher use. Mr. Kelso came, saw, and metamorphosed the premises into a private school. The villagers say that not only Temple, but his sister Catherine was educated at the ci-devant Red Lion, and some of them can remember the compact figure of the major, as he stood outside and called “Kit! Kit!” to attract his daughter’s attention. As one or two of the Archbishop’s school-fellows—respect- able people—are still living, it seems nothing less than an outrage to doubt their word, and yet his own assertion is rather more than a tacit denial—a flat contradiction. On the whole, we are inclined to believe that Temple’s memory on this point must have played him false. We are perfectly sure that so frank and straightforward a man—one, more- over, who rather exaggerated than minimised the straitened circumstances of his youth, would never THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 93 have hesitated in acknowledging any benefit he may have derived from Mr. Kelso’s tuition. Probably, therefore, his stay in the school was very brief and had been totally erased from his recollection. The Red Lion, alas! no longer exists, the site having been thrown into the churchyard. In 1872, at a distribution of prizes to the successful students of the Exeter Science Classes—then in their infancy—Dr. Temple bore witness to his mother’s “admirable mode of teaching,’ thanks to which he became a tolerably good arithmetician “at a very early age.” When, he said, he went to school at thirteen, he did not think there was anything in arithmetic he could not do. Mrs. Temple’s system of teaching the Bishop described as keeping up his practice in the elementary rules. When he reached division, he had to do sums in addition, subtraction, and multiplication. From the beginning to the end she never allowed him to let go the commencement. Two years before, on a similar occasion at Plymouth, he had volunteered a statement from which it appears that Major Temple sometimes assisted his wife in in- structing their children. The newspaper report, which may, of course, have been inaccurate, is as follows: “On presenting a work on algebra the Bishop remarked to the pupil that when he was himself nine years of age, his father taught him the four rules of algebra, and then he came to a page which he could not under- stand. He read over that page day after day for more than three months, and then he found the meaning of it. He mentioned this to them to show the necessity and advantage of perseverance.” Assuming this re- port to be correct, which it seems fair to do, it is "ae > 94 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 4 inconsistent with Temple’s subsequent avowal that he went to Blundell’s School taught by his mother alone ; and, if his gallant father had a finger in the pie—why, the villagers may tell truth, and good Mr. Kelso may have had a finger in it too. Among the Temples’ more intimate acquaintances the first place must be accorded to the Blackmore family at the vicarage. (Major Temple was for a brief period churchwarden, and his bold signature is still legible in the parish books.) As a parish clergyman the Rev. John Blackmore displayed considerable energy, especially in the view of the fact that he was not the vicar of Culmstock, but merely the curate-in- charge. One of his achievements was the erection of the National School, which stands opposite the church and is now only used as a Sunday school. In order to raise funds for the building a bazaar was held, and the young Temples, Frederick and John, made and sold walking-sticks on the occasion. Richard Doddridge Blackmore, the curate’s son, tells us that, during his father’s residence, the old church was suddenly “found wanting—wanting foundation, and broad buttress, solid wall, and sound timbered roof, and even deeper hold on earth for the high soar of the tower ;” but, if we may treat Perlycross as history, and the novelist encourages us so to do, there is reason to think that he somewhat exaggerates Mr. “ Penniloe’s” architectural exploits. An inscription in the church informs us that the north aisle and clerestory were erected in 1825. _Now we have ascertained from an inspection of the register that Mr. Blackmore’s first baptism is dated May 31st, 1835, and his last October 4th, 1841. Hence it would seem that the main work THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 95 of restoration had been carried out some ten years before his time. Still, there is no doubt that important alterations were made under Mr. Blackmore’s inspiration. Clerk “ Channing’s” grandson summarises his achieve- ments as follows: He built the National School ; supplied the first “ hand-organ,” and the carved ceilings of the north and south aisle of the church; and re-erected the “communion-screen” in the chancel. Nobody knew, he says, from what source Mr. Blackmore obtained the necessary funds, but it was supposed that his wife’s relations were rich. (Perlycross mentions the Dean and Chapter of Exeter as contributors). Mr. Channon states that he well remembers Parson Blackmore, who has often given him a good thrashing; and amongst his mementoes is a photograph of his corrector, taken from a pencil-drawing. Concerning the beautiful stone-screen of which so much is made in the opening chapters of Perlycross, Mr. Rundle believes that it was first shifted from its original position at the entrance of the chancel in 1799. At the tower end it served as a screen for the ringers, unless the account in Perlycross is to be received as historically correct—viz., that it was plastered up in the west wall, and rediscovered by Mr. Blackmore, who set it up—there is no question about this—as a reredos. One of Mr. Blackmore’s “notes” was zeal for tem- perance. Culmstock, at ordinary times, was not a specially drunken place, though the Devonshire rustic had then, as now, a hearty appreciation of beer and cider, and on fair days—May 21st and Michaelmas —was conscientiously bibulous. On such occasions the Three Tuns, the Ilminster, etc, were reinforced ee Ely 7 96 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE with five or six “bush-houses ”—extemporised inns. The occupiers easily obtained licenses, and thereupon proceeded to decorate the fronts with boughs of oak, one on each side of the door, thereby intimating to all whom it might concern that liquor was on sale within. The normal quiet of the village was broken up by the arrival of a horde of navvies for the con- struction of the White Ball tunnel. Navvies are _ always a rather lawless race, whose invasion of a neighbourhood bodes ill for the cause of order and - sobriety ; and for their benefit, primarily, Mr. Black- more instituted temperance meetings. It is needless to point out the interest of this circumstance, having regard to Dr. Temple’s strenuous advocacy of this branch of social reform. The curate-in-charge had three sons and two daughters. A daughter, Charlotte Ellen, and a son, Frederick Platt, were born to him during his residence at Culmstock; and one of the daughters married a pupil of her father, who, as may be gleaned from “R. Ds” Lales from the Telling House, eked out his income by reading with young men. Possibly he was the “Bude Light.” A sister-in-law of Mrs. Trickey, an old lady still living in the village and nearly ninety years of age, was servant in the Blackmore family for the long period of thirty years, and her niece, Ellen Trickey, lived with the Rev. John Blackmore at Ashford, near Barnstaple (whither he removed on leaving Culmstock), and with Mr. R. D. Blackmore at Teddington. The original of Thyatira Moggridge was Lydia Shapland, who was still alive a few years ago, and in receipt of a pension from Mr. Blackmore. Thyatira, it will be remembered, was converted by THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 97 a stroke of her master’s readiness “from the doctrines of the ‘antipzdo-Baptists ’—as they used to call them- selves—to those of the Church of England.” Perhaps it would be too much to expect from Mr. Blackmore any keen sympathy with the Culmstock dissenters, but they certainly called themselves by no such name as he attributed to them. The Culmstock Baptists, moreover, have good right to pride themselves on the history of their cause, since their place of worship at Prescott is one of the few surviving chapels built at the time of the Five Mile Act. Of course, it has been grossly “restored,” though long after Parson Blackmore’s time. Such traditions, however, do not appeal to the average country clergyman, and Mr. Blackmore found all his time taken up in combating the heresy as it asserted itself in his own day. He carried on an active con- troversy with a Baptist minister called Gabriel, on doctrinal points; and Mr. John Pook had a printed pamphlet, giving both sides of the argument, in his possession, till a few years ago he threw it in the fire as useless. In his local romance R. D. Blackmore makes a good deal of the Tremletts, who are undoubtedly an old Culmstock race. They are heard to speak of “father” and “grandfather,” and the impression prevails that they have been in the parish for at least two hundred years. They are accordingly referred to as “ancient,” but “towards property” they are not known to have possessed any. Within the last sixty or seventy years, at any rate, they have been only labourers. Old Betty Tremlett lived in a cottage at Millmoor, and the Rev. John Blackmore took a great interest in her. She is described as having been a ri 98 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE “humble Christian woman ;” and one of the parson’s daughters—a Mrs. Faunthorpe, if we caught the name aright—used to send her money regularly. The boys, unsympathetic as boys usually are, called her “ Betty Poorly,” because she was always ailing; and she was probably a frequent occupant of the old “dropping” chair. This institution is unknown in our days, but R. D. Blackmore explains in a note that “in country parishes an easy-chair for the use of the sick and elderly was provided from the Communion offerings, and lent to those most in need of it. When not so required, it was kept under cover, and regarded with some reverence, from its origin and use.” It is remarkable that on the Blackdowns has flourished for many generations a numerous clan of Blackmores, most of them belonging to the farming class. A good old friend of ours who is connected with the clan through his wife is strongly persuaded that the novelist’s family originally sprang from the same stock, but a careful examination of a very full pedigree submitted to us failed to reveal their names. Partly for this reason, and partly on the ground that we believe the reverend gentleman and his distinguished son to have been of North Devon descent, we are unable’ to accept our friend’s theory. Still, the coincidence, if no more, is interesting. Temple was confirmed by a very extraordinary father-in-God, whom, curiously, he was destined to succeed in the see of Exeter. Dr. Philpotts’ life abounded in controversies, of which we do not propose to say much, but, in many quarters, they made him very unpopular. For a long time he vehemently opposed the Catholic Emancipation Bill, and in 1828 THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 99 went so far as to declare that, rather than assent to that measure, George IV. must lay his head on the block. Yet the very next year Philpotts himself gave way, and was appointed to the bishopric of Exeter, whereupon “H. B.,” the caricaturist, drew a picture of him as a voracious rat with a mitre on its head. As bishop, Philpotts resisted the passage of the Reform Bill, and got himself so much disliked that he was hissed in the streets of Exeter, and burnt in effigy in his old parish of Stanhope. Such a vigorous personality naturally gave scope for scores of anecdotes, of which we will find room for two. One relates to his residence at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, and betrays a tart humour. Though little disposed to conviviality, he was persuaded to join a wine party, in which, after the student who sat next him had sung, “ Here’s to thee, Tom Brown,” young Mr. Philpotts was reminded that it was his turn to contribute a story. ‘“ Well then,” said he, “if I must tell a story, it is that I should like to hear Mr. So-and-so sing another song.” This first has, at least, the merit of being more pleasant than some of his later sayings. During Lord Grey’s administration Dr. Philpotts first scandalised and then amused the Peers by his onslaughts on the opposite party. On becoming Prime Minister and leader of the House, Lord Mel- bourne thought he would try to curb his fury; so, turning to the Archbishop of Canterbury, he begged leave to tell him a story. He did not say, “I should like to hear that right reverend prelate sing that song again.” The story he told was this. A _ warlike prince-bishop of the middle ages was defeated and 100 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE captured by the Imperial'troops. Thereupon the Pope sent his legate to the Emperor with the demand, “Release my son.” By way of reply the secular monarch sent back to the Pope a suit of armour which the bishop had worn in the battle. “And now,” quoth Lord Melbourne, appealing to the Primate, “I ask you, as the Emperor then asked the Pope—Is this thy son’s coat?” The House laughed, while the Archbishop smiled and shook his head. But the militant Dr. Philpotts sat undismayed. We have referred to Temple’s family, his earliest teachers, and his spiritual masters and pastors; and now, as Lord Melbourne said, we may venture to put in a word about the choirmaster. The parish clerk, Channon, was in no way remarkable. He loved his pipe and his glass of ale, and “dooed his duty”—and that is all. Mr. William Collier was an altogether different sort of man. He could play almost any instrument, was passionately fond of music, and joined the choir before he was five! Although still remembered for his musical talents in his native village, Mr. Collier was known over a much wider area for his mastership of a pack of otter-hounds, in which office he succeeded his father, Mr. John Collier, who was very squeamish about the premature decease of the hunted otter, and essentially a terror to evil-doers in the Culmstock country, even to the extent of being harsh. Having often accompanied Mr. William Collier in his wading expeditions up and down stream, we cannot describe him better than as a sporting Temple, for, there is no doubt about it, he would have order, and the same is true of his father before him. An interesting story is told as to the way William Bist THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS IOI Collier became master. When he was sixteen or seven- teen years of age, he was posted with another boy to guard a “stickle’—ze, to prevent the otter escaping downstream. The water was bumpy and discoloured, and his father, by way of precaution, and without saying anything to the boys, posted two older individuals farther down. Young Collier soon discovered the ruse, and, regarding it as a serious aspersion on his sports- manship, desired his father, the same day at dinner, to give him the hounds for once, “and,” said he, “I will show you what I can do.” The next morning a draw took place in the Yarty near Kilmington, and after toiling for two hours or more, the young master brought to bank a dog-otter, weighing twenty-four pounds, which he carried home as a trophy to his proud and delighted sire. In Mr. Collier's youth hounds had frequently to do long weary road work before they reached the river- side. Otter-hunting is still the sport of the early riser and the man who would enjoy to the full his day with the hounds must be extremely keen and not easily tired. But compared with the performances of the older school, the work of the modern follower of the otter-hounds is mere child’s play. Ina letter of Mr. Collier’s, quoted in the Badminton volume, he tells how in the days before railways he left Hillmoor at two o'clock in the morning, jogged on to Exebridge, left his pony there, then drew up the Barle, and killed his otter on the way. Then a crust of bread and cheese at Withypool, and at it again, over Winsford Hill to the Exe, where he killed another otter, picked up his pony at Exebridge, and back again with tired hounds the same night to Hillmoor, thus covering at least sixty miles, 102 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE During the last six years of his career Mr. Collier, at the invitation of the Hon. G. Lascelles, paid an annual visit to Hampshire, where his skill and patience in the chase excited immense admiration. He once hunted a trail in the New Forest for sixteen miles, and killed—a simply unprecedented feat. Mr. William Collier, like his nephew, Mr. Frederick Collier, the present master, was educated at Blundell’s School, Tiverton, of which we shall presently hear more in connection with Temple and others. Before bringing this chapter to a close it may be well to direct attention to two or three little matters about which there hangs a certain amount of obscurity. Even in Culmstock may be found persons possessed with the idea that the late Archbishop was a native of the place, and recently some visitors had pointed out to them at Axon the very room in which he was born. It is commonly stated that this event occured on November 30th, 1821, at Santa Maura, in the Ionian Isles, but it seems possible that this account is a trifle inaccurate. Several years ago a young lady, who had been acting as governess in a family at Culmstock, became a patient at the Great Northern Hospital, where she was visited by an aged clergyman who was interested in hearing about Temple’s early home. This mysterious divine, whom we have not succeeded in tracing, claimed to be well informed as to the circumstances of Temple’s birth, which he affirmed took place at sea, Mrs. Temple and her infant being soon afterwards landed at Santa Maura, then, like the rest of the Ionian Isles, a part of the British Empire. Speaking at Exeter on one occasion, Dr. Temple remarked, “I have been bound up with the diocese of =i = THE TEMPLES AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 103 Exeter, which then embraced Cornwall, from my earliest childhood, because all my ancestors belong to Cornwall, and my earliest years were spent in Devon. I belonged to a Devonshire parish from the time I was nine years old ; I was educated at a Devonshire school ; to college I took with me a Devonshire scholarship; and I may add that I found friendships there which I trust will never be broken.” The Devonshire parish to which the bishop (as he then was) alluded was doubtless Culmstock, but it would seem from another statement that his first experience of Devonshire life and scenery was obtained in the neighbourhood of Barnstaple. On January 12th, 1870, in response to the toast of his health, he observed in the music hall of that town, “As I was saying this morning to the Mayor, I feel here more at home than anywhere else in England. I was born abroad—in the Ionian Isles—a subject of her Majesty in one of her dependencies, and I did not come to England until I was nine years old—or nearly so—and all my earliest recollections of England be- long to this part of Devonshire. Here it was that I spent some considerable time before I went to school farther south at Tiverton, and all these hills and these beautiful streams and the scenery seem to me as if they were part of my very self, because I seem to know them as forming part of my earliest recollections of anything. Since that time I have come back often and often to these parts. I have walked with my own legs over most of these hills, and seen with my own eyes much of that beautiful scenery which lies around here.” We have made persevering inquiries at Barnstaple with respect to this connection, but the oldest inhabitants 104. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE can throw no light on the subject, and the probability is that the family occupied lodgings in the town for a few months before settling down at Axon. One more mystery. In Culmstock church there is a beautiful stained-glass window erected, it is believed, to the memory of Major Temple. The window is situated at the east end of the nave, and cannot fail to be seen by any one immediately on entering the church. Yet its history is practically unknown. It was placed there many years ago, but there is no inscription or tablet to indicate when or by whom. As far as the vicar can ascertain there is no entry on the subject in the church records, and nobody at Culmstock has any idea how it came to be erected. Alike to the visitor and the churchgoer it is merely an ornament. Some years ago the window needed attention, and in reply to the vicar’s appeal the late Archbishop at once forwarded a sufficient sum to cover the cost of repair. He declined, however, to acquiesce in the vicar’s desire that a tablet should be placed underneath, nor would he state by whom the window was erected. CHAPTER, .V JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL HE chief hero of the town of Wellington, which holds his bones, is beyond question Sir John Popham. If all be true that report speaks of him he must have been a most remarkable and eccentric character, and some of the passages in his life were not good, though romantic. Born about 1531 at Huntsworth, in Somerset, he is stated to have been stolen when a child by the gipsies, who kept him with them for some time, and, ere they parted from him, branded and disfigured him for life. Later, ’tis said, he performed some more than questionable feats on the Kent road. Issuing from a Southwark inn, he would lie close on Shooter’s Hill and waylay travellers from the Continent proceeding to London by this road, and as often as not rich enough to be worth plundering. Referring to this period in his career, Fuller remarks that he was “as stout and skilful a man at sword and buckler as any in that age, and wild enough in his recreations.” At length Master Popham turned over a new leaf, and that arch-gossip Aubrey has told us how this very desirable reformation was brought about. After repeating that for several years he “addicted himself but little to the laws, but bad company, and was wont I05 106 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE to take a purse with them,” he goes on, “His wife considered her and his situation, and at last prevailed with him to lead another life, and to stick to the study of the law, which, upon her importunity, he did, being then about thirty years old. He spake to his wife to provide a very good entertainment for his comrades to take leave of them; and after that day fell extremely hard to his study, and profited ex- ceedingly. He was a strong, stout man, and could endure to sit at it day and night.” Here we are concerned with Popham rather as a Somerset worthy than as a judge and politician, and of his public career we can say but little. It may be recorded, however, that as Attorney-General he prosecuted the beautiful and unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, while, as Lord Chief Justice, it fell to his lot to condemn that gallant West-countryman, Sir Walter Raleigh, which, it is just to observe, he did in feeling terms. He also pronounced sentence of death on Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plotters—a circumstance that would have excited greater interest at one time than it does now, the Fifth of November having ceased to be remembered with the same fiery enthusiasm as of old. Another distinction of Popham’s—what some would call a “feather in his cap’”—was his share in the colonisation of Virginia and New England. On this side of the Atlantic we tend to associate the memory of those days with the achievements of our splendid mariners, Drake and Grenville, and if we do not forget Raleigh, have a trick of ignoring the solid services of men like Popham, who, nevertheless, did yeoman’s work for civilisation. In America the name of the great Chief Justice is still recalled with gratitude _ JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 107 and admiration. Popham obtained the charters both of the London and Plymouth companies; and at the mouth of the Kennebec River in Maine stands the following inscription: “The first colony on the shores of New England was founded here August 19th, 1607, under George Popham.” Now this George Popham was the nephew of the Chief Justice, by whom he and Raleigh and Gilbert were sent out, and who is des- cribed as the very soul of the expedition. No wonder, then, if at Popham celebrations he is honoured as “the man under the shadow of whose great name was laid the foundation of the colossal empire of the Western World.” It is unlucky for Sir John Popham that from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century he was the victim of a circumstantial slander, which it is too much to say has now received its quietus. Not that its base- lessness is at all in question, but when a poet of Sir Walter Scott’s popularity gives support to a legend, it acquires not merely a new lease of life, but stronger and deeper roots and more wide-spreading branches than if it had been confined to the whispers of the country-side or the pages of an old book. The twenty-seventh canto of Rokeby consists of the following ballad : “And whither would you lead me then?” Quoth the Friar of Orders Grey: And the ruffians twain replied again, “ By a dying woman to pray.” “T see,” he said, “a lovely sight, A sight bodes little harm, A lady as a lily bright, With an infant.on her arm.” i? Poe % 108 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE ‘Then do thine office, Friar Grey, And see thou shrive her free; Else shall the sprite that parts to-night Fling all its guilt on thee. “Let mass be said and trentals read, When thou'rt to convent gone, And bid the bell of St. Benedict Toll out its deepest tone.” The shrift is done, the Friar is gone, Blindfolded as he came; Next morning all in Littlecot Hall. Were weeping for their dame. Wild Darell is an alter’d man, The village crones can tell ; He looks pale as clay, and strives to pray, If he hears the convent bell. If prince or peer cross Darell’s way, He'll beard him in his pride— If he meet a Friar of Orders Grey, He droops and turns aside. This ballad is founded on a tradition supplied to Sir Walter by Lord Webb Seymour, whose account, as the poet observes, ‘contains an exquisite picture of an old English hall (which by the way, is still the property of the Popham family) and deserves to be reproduced in full. “ Littlecote House stands in a low and homely situa- tion. On three sides it is surrounded by a park, that spreads over an adjoining hill; on the fourth, by meadows which are watered by the River Kennet. Close on one side of the house is a thick grove of lofty trees, along the verge of which runs one of the principal avenues to it through the park. It is an irregular building of great antiquity, and was probably erected about the time of JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 109 the termination of feudal warfare, when defence came no longer to be an object ina country mansion. Many circumstances, however, in the interior of the house seem appropriate to feudal times. The hall is very spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by transom windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls are hung with old military accoutrements that have long been left a prey to rust. At one end of the hall is a range of coats of mail and helmets, and there is on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and guns, many of them with matchlocks. Immediately below the cornice hangs a row of leathern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak table, reaching nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have feasted the whole neighbourhood, and an appendage to one end of it made it answer at other times for the old game of shuffle-board. “The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style particularly an armchair of cumbrous workmanship, constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high back and triangular seat, said to have been used by Judge Popham in the reign of Elizabeth. The entrance into the hall is at one end by a low door, communicating with a passage that leads from the outer door in the front of the house to a quadrangle within ; at the other it opens upon a gloomy staircase, by which you ascend to the first floor, and, passing the doors of some bed- chambers, enter a narrow gallery, which stands along the back front of the house from one end to the other of it, and looks upon an old garden. This gallery is hung with portraits, chiefly in the Spanish dress of the sixteenth century. In one of the bedrooms, which 110 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE you pass in going towards the gallery, is a bedstead with blue furniture, which time has now made dingy and threadbare, and in the bottom of one of the bed- curtains you are shown a place where a small piece has been cut out and sewn in again—a circumstance which serves to identify the scene of the following story : “It was on a dark rainy night in the month of November, that an old midwife sat musing by her cottage fireside, when on a sudden she was startled by a loud knocking at the door. On opening it she found a horseman, who told her that her assistance was required immediately by a person of rank, and that she should be handsomely rewarded ; but that there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, and therefore she must submit to be blindfolded, and to be conducted in that condition to the bedchamber of the lady. With some hesitation the midwife con-" sented ; the horseman bound her eyes, and placed her on a pillion behind him. After proceeding in silence for many miles, through rough and dirty lanes, they stopped, and the midwife was led into a house which, from the length of her walk through the apartments, as well as the sounds about her, she discovered to be the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was removed from her eyes she found herself in a bed- chamber, in which were the lady on whose account she had been sent for and a man of a haughty and ferocious aspect. The lady was delivered of a fine boy. Immediately the man commanded the midwife to give him the child, and catching it from her he hurried across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL Ill was strong, and, by its struggles, rolled itself upon the hearth, when the ruffian again seized it with fury, and in spite of the intercession of the midwife, and the more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under the grate, and, raking the live coals upon it, soon put an end to its life. “The midwife, after spending some time in affording all the relief in her power to the wretched mother, was told that she must be gone. Her former conductor appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed her behind him to her own house; he then paid her handsomely and departed. The midwife was strongly agitated by the horrors of the preceding night, and she immediately made a deposition of the facts before a magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of detecting the house in which the crime had been com- mitted ; one was that the midwife, as she sat by the bedside, had, with a view to discover the place, cut out a piece of the bed-curtain, and sewn it in again; the other was that as she descended the staircase she had counted the steps. Some suspicions fell upon one Darell, at that time the proprietor of Littlecote House and the domain around it. The house was examined and identified by the midwife, and Darell was tried at Salisbury for the murder. By corrupting his judge, he escaped the sentence of the law; but © broke his neck, by a fall from his horse in hunting, in a few months after. The place where this happened is still known by the name of Darell’s stile—a spot to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of evening have overtaken on his way. “Littlecote House is two miles from Hungerford, in Berkshire, through which the Bath road passes. The Be II2 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE fact occurred in the reign of Elizabeth. All the important circumstances I have given exactly as they are told in the country; some trifles only are added either to render the whole connected or to increase the impression.” Aubrey’s correspondence is much more precise and gives us to see Sir John Popham’s supposed part in the business. “Sir ... Dayrell, of Littlecote in Com. Wilts, having gott his lady o’ waiting woman with child, when her travell came, sent a servant with a horse for a midwife, whom he was to bring hood-winked. She was brought and layd the woman, but as soon as the child was born she sawe the knight take the child, and murther it, and burn it in the fire in the chamber. She having done her businesse, was extraordinarily rewarded for her paines, and sent blindfolded away. This horrid action did much run in-her mind, and she had a desire to discover it, but knew not where ’twas. She con- sidered with herself the time she was riding, and how many miles she might have rode at that rate in that time, and that it must be some great person’s house, for the roome was 12 foot high; and she should know the chamber if she sawe it. She went to a Justice of the Peace, and search was made. The very chamber found. The Knight was brought to his tryall ; and, to be short, this judge had this noble house, parke, and manner, and (I think) more, for a bribe to save his life. “Sir John Popham gave sentence according to law, but being a great person, and a favourite, he procured a nolle prosequt.” Neither of these versions appears to have had any JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 113 foundation in fact, the truth being that “Wild Darell” died in his bed at Littlecote several years before Popham became a judge. The two men, however, were relations, and when Popham was Attorney-General William Darrell, the last of his race who owned Littlecote, constantly repaired to him for advice in connection with his interminable law-suits. When the unfortunate man died in 1589 Popham purchased the estate, in a perfectly regular way, from the creditors. But not content with this beautiful seat he also, it is said, built him a house at Wellington, where the old Court now stands, and a relic of the original edifice survives, we are told, in a Tudor doorway. It is very likely that Chief Justice Popham made consider- able alterations in Wellington Court, but there is some doubt as to whether he built this residence. Tradition assigns its erection to the fabulous hero Guy, Earl of Warwick, who lived in Saxon times. This of course is absurd, but it is possible that the pilgrim-soldier, whose fame was handed down in many a chap-book, may have been confused with Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who flourished in the reign of Edward II. Of Popham’s life at Wellington would that we could tell something, but frankly, we cannot. This, however, we know, that in old age he “graced” the town with his presence, that he was “a great benefactor to it” at his death, and that when he departed this life in 1607 he was buried in the parish church, where a magnificent monument that still exists was erected to his memory. The local legends, reflecting the ingratitude which so often pursues the philanthropist, even when dead, are generally unfavourable. Perhaps this is because Popham acquired an unenviable reputation as a “ hanging 8 II4 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE judge,” and, in this connection, we naturally cannot forget the Darell scandal, reports of which may have been carried to Wellington and biassed the popular mind. Whatever the explanation may be there is no doubt as to the fact, as certain accounts abundantly testify. Before, however, we proceed to deal with these, it may be as well to cite another of Aubrey’s cock- and-bull stories, for although it does not concern Popham himself, it has got attached to his family, and appears to have been culled on the spot. “At the hall in Wellington, in the county of Somerset, the ancient seat of the Pophams, and which was this Sir John’s, Lord Chief Justice (but query if he did not buy it) did hang iron shackles, of which the tradition of the country is that long ago one of the Pophams (lord of the place) was taken and kept a slave by the Turks for a good while, and that by his lady’s great piety and continual prayers he was brought to this place by an invisible power with these shackles on his legs, which were hung up as a memorial and continued till the house (being a garrison) was burnt. All the people steadfastly believe the truth hereof.” It will be remarked that it was his wife’s devotion, and no goodness of his own, that moved Heaven to work this miracle for Popham’s ancestor. Still, the legend may pass as of neutral tint. As regards the descendant, if the country-people’s belief goes for any- thing, his harshness met in the end with a terrible requital. On the top of Wellington Hill, to the west of the monument, is a copse, wherein is a gully yclept Wilscombe Bottom, adorned with a waterfall. The little stream sinks into a hole with a floor of soft marl, and then goes on its way towards Bryant’s Farm. JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL Il5 The hole is the thing,—what do you suppose it is called ? Why, “Popham’s Pit ;” and it is regarded as one of the by-entrances to those— Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all. At certain times the king of those regions himself is said to emerge from this hole, and should cattle by any chance fall into it they are believed to disappear immediately and sink lower and lower into the abyss. In an evil hour Sir John Popham was riding in this copse, when his horse, reeling over the edge of the pit, threw and killed him; and now, the story goes, the knight’s ghost haunts the sylvan shades, advancing towards the town at the not very alarming rate of one cockstride a year. The following rigmarole originally appeared in Mr. F. T. Elworthy’s West Somerset Grammar, where he gives it as an illustration of the dialect. Mr. A. L. Humphreys reproduces it in modern dress, but a suspicion of dialect renders a tale more racy. We will endeavour to steer a middle course between the two extremes of scientific precision and vapid commonplace. “T s’pose you han’t heard "bout the girt oak-tree up to Wellington Park wood, which, they used to say, Lord Popham was conjured into. Well, don’t ee zee? up there, you know, sir, there’s a girt deep bottom goes down so steep as the tower, very steep like, as one mit zay, same as the side going up over Wellington Hill. You mind poor old Tom Alway, don’t ee, sir? That’s the old Tom Alway’s father—this yur oak-tree, he helped to throw un, and when they throwed un, 116 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE if he’ didn’t turn right top-on-tail. Yes, sure, and the head o’ un was right down under; and there he bide and they was all o’ ’em afeared for to go anenst un ; and they said he was so conjured nobody couldn’t never drag un out ; and there he remained. At last I went up, because they said the horses would be sure to be killed, with ten oxen, and I hitched ’em up to un, and the bullocks pulled un out, and dragged un into the hanging close, and I never seed nort, and they was all o’ ‘em a-waiting and a-looking how I should have been killed, and calling of me a fool for to go; but I never seed nort, nor yet nobody at all. “And you knows Wellington Park house, don’t ee, sir? I mind when I used to live up there, up in the garret ; there was a place there then like an oven like, and I seed some books with reading in ’em in the oven, and they said ’twas Lord Popham’s books, and they said how a man went up and sat astride ’pon the roof, that he [the devil] mightn’t carry the roof away. Yes, ’tis a terrible old house, sir, but I never didn’t see nobody there, no worse than myself, as one mit zay. Nevertheless, I’ve heard ’em zay how the ser- vant chap was going for to let out [z¢., into the pasture] the hackney, after his master had come home from market, and there was a man stood in the gateway, and he couldn’t open the gate, and when they took un to doing the next morning—because he hadn’t put out the horse, don’t ee zee, sir ?—he said, said he, how he couldn’t put un out, because there was a man stood right in the gateway, so that he couldn’t open un [the gate], and they always used to zay how they considered that there man was Lord Popham.” 1 Je. the oak. JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 117 Either in the West Country or in London Popham became acquainted with one Master Peter Blundell, a native of Tiverton, and, in his later years, a person of some consequence. So much may be inferred from the evidence we possess of his wealth and generous spirit, and perhaps also from the fact that he terms the Chief Justice his “ right dear and honourable friend.” This Peter Blundell began life as a poor boy. He ran errands for the carriers that came to the town, and, as Prince says, “was tractable in looking after their horses and doing little services, as they gave him orders.” The same authority proceeds, “By degrees he got a little money, of which he was very careful, and bought therewith a kersey, which a carrier was so kind as to carry for him to London gras, and to make him the advantage of the return. Having done so for some time, he at length got enough to load a horse, and went with them himself, where, being found very diligent and industrious, he was received into good employment by those who managed there the kersey trade (for which Tiverton was then very famous), and he continued therein until he was rich enough to set up the calling for himself.” This account Prince received from a Mr. Newte, one of the rectors of Tiverton, whose father was a rector before him, and whose grandfather had lived in the neighbourhood in the days of Blundell. It is therefore in all probability authentic. Other particulars regarding him are scanty. The inscription, which is now in the tower of New Blundell’s, but for nearly three centuries kept its place over the outer gateway of the old school, of which he was the founder, shows, if it shows anything, that he died at the age of eighty-one. According to 118 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE his own desire he was buried in the parish church of St. Michael Paternoster, afterwards better known as St. Michael Royal. This church was burnt in the Great Fire of London, and any monument that may have been erected to his memory must have perished in the flames. The register, however, was preserved, and contains the date of his burial—“the 9th day of May, 1601.” So we think the chances are that he was born in 1520. It is only fair to add that the statement that he was a native of Tiverton is based on a tradition, but on a very likely tradition. - Peter Blundell was a bachelor, and, when in London, probably made his home with Mr. William Whitmore, a citizen and alderman of London, who was descended from an ancient Shropshire family. That, it seems, is the best explanation of the fact that on his death he left to Widow Whitmore, her relations and her servants, a sum amounting in the aggregate to nearly four thousand pounds. But his manner of expressing himself in his will, which is all in his own handwriting, appears to indicate either that he was not residing con- tinuously in London, or that he had some thought of returning to die among his own people. It seems quite certain that at the time he made his will, and probably up to the day of his death, he still carried on his business at Tiverton, between which place and London it had long been his custom to travel forwards and backwards for trading purposes. Although Blundell left no direct descendants he had many collateral relations—notably, his nephew, Robert Chilcot, or Comyn, who is considered to have occupied a con- fidential position in his firm, and who emulated his good deeds. JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 1@ fe) Just three years before Blundell’s death Tiverton was the scene of a great tragedy in the shape of a terrible fire which reduced practically the whole town to ashes. Only fifteen years had elapsed when the calamity was repeated, and the thriving little centre was again deluged with flame. Had these events occurred earlier they must have sadly interfered with Blundell's com- mercial undertakings, but in 1598 his fortune was already made. It is not our intention to attempt a description of either of these fires, of which harrowing accounts are given in contemporary chap-books, but it may be worth while to glance for a moment at the picture they afford of the old town in the time of its antecedent prosperity. Merchants knew it well, the town of Tiverton in Devonshire, for it was the principal market for cloth in all the western parts. Pleasantly situated on the banks of the clear River Exe, it was garnished with many goodly and costly buildings—the abodes of wealthy merchants; and no town in that region of the same size could compare with it for population. Each Monday a market was held for cloth and other goods, when crowds of country-people flocked into the place, especially those engaged in the cloth industry. They had abundant reason, for they were sure of sales and were paid in ready money for their commodities, no matter how large the amount. And it is noted as an excellent custom that the weavers and _ tuckers received their coin “always before dinner,’ which was no small comfort to their minds and as great a benefit to their stomachs. In this connection it is interesting to observe that in his will Blundell left fifty pounds “to the mending of bad ways” in the neighbourhood, 120 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE and that there may be no misunderstanding he adds, “J mean highways, that people come to the markets of Tiverton or from it with wains, ploughs (2.2. teams) and carriages of horses or otherwise.” This was only one of a bewildering list of benefactions. He did not forget his tuckers at Tiverton, and he remembered the poor prisoners in London, and the artificers of Exeter also came in for a share of his bounty. He bequeathed, too, twenty pounds a year for the apprenticing of four poor boys, born and bred in Tiverton, to farmers. But his most important charity was the foundation of the school which bears his name. We cannot speak of it otherwise than as a charity, since Blundell expressly stipulated that it should be “a free school and not a school of exaction;” and if his purpose has been partially defeated by the course of events and the superior wisdom of modern times, that is no reason why full credit should not be allowed him for his kind intention. The erection of this school was evidently a sort of day-dream of Blundell’s, and it is said that the old man was fond of quoting the words of William of Wykeham addressed to Edward III., “Though I am not myself a scholar, I will be the means of making more scholars than any scholar in England.” To achieve such success in the world of commerce, Blundell must have been a man with a very practical turn of mind, and we see numerous traces of this eminently English quality in his last will and testament. It is clear that he had thought out all the details of the school he proposed to found with the utmost minuteness, blended with a copious measure of enthusiasm. He wished his “fair school” to be built on or near the PETER BLUNDELL, FOUNDER OF TIVERTON SCHOOL, DIED I60I. From a portrait given by Thomas Whitmore to Robert Newton Incledon, and by him to the Trustees of the School, JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL I2I River Exe or Lowman—the two streams which have given Tiverton its name (Twy-ford-ton); and, in addition to the school proper, there were to be a hall, a buttery, and a kitchen, a “convenient” garden and woodyard, and a “fit” house. His provisions extended even to a “great fair chimney, with an oven,” which he desired to be set up in the kitchen. The whole of the premises were to be enclosed with a “strong wall,’ and there was to be one exit only—a “ fair strong gate.” In the face of the many splendid benefactions of which Peter Blundell’s will is the record, it would seem absurd to tax that good man with anything approaching mean- ness or parsimony, and therefore when he says that the usher “shall have one chamber to himself only,” he curbs the extravagance of ushers, who, he plainly thinks, ought to be satisfied with this reasonable accommodation. The execution of the project was left to a body of trustees, with Sir John Popham at their head; and the distinguished judge carried out the duties imposed on him with capacity and zeal till his death in 1607, when the complicated arrangements were still incom- plete. The late Sir George Chesney liked to think of Blundell’s as in some sense an Elizabethan school. “It is true,” he confessed, “that when the school was founded Queen Elizabeth was dead, but some of the men of the Elizabethan era were living. It was a great epoch in our history—an epoch in which Englishmen dis- played, in a remarkable way, the power of their race to engage in adventure of all kinds by land and sea, and developed the literature which has now become a great heritage of all time. Blundell’s School is in one sense a Shakespearian school, for it is contemporary I22 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE with Shakespeare. This alone gives Blundell’s School © a claim to esteem and regard.” Sir John Popham, as we have seen, was already a great man in the reign of Elizabeth, and, as such, may well have conversed with Shakespeare; and if Popham, why not his friend Blundell’ also? A portrait of Popham, which came into the possession of the trustees at the close of the eighteenth century, now hangs in the big school of New Blundell’s. It represents him as Lord Chief Justice of England in robes of scarlet and ermine and SS collar, with a ruff and cap of Eliza- bethan cut. Aubrey counted him a “huge, heavy, ugly man” ; his portrait is less uncomplimentary, but conveys the impression of one who could easily hold his own. Hard by is what a local antiquary, Mr. Arthur Fisher, cruelly calls the “ mythical” portrait of Peter Blundell. Perhaps it is mythical ; at all events, we have no certain knowledge of its origin. In the Blundellan for 1882 we find the following note : “The portrait of the founder, now hanging in the schoolroom, was given by Thomas Whitmore, Esq., of Apley Park, Shropshire, to Robert Newton Incledon, Esq., and by him to the trustees of the school. Mr. Incledon was elected a feoffee in 1785.” Mr. Incledon, however, tells us that in the year 1694 a likeness of the founder was presented to the school by Sir William Whitmore, a descendant of Blundell’s friend, but was unfortunately lost in transit. This statement has been supposed to put the authenticity of the existing portrait out of court. It is certainly 1 Blundell may have become acquainted with the poet through the Whitmores. His friend Mr. William Whitmore was part- owner in 1609-10 of Ann Hathaway’s cottage at Shottery. JOHN POPHAM AND PETER BLUNDELL 123 strange that Incledon made no mention of his treasure in his notes on the school first printed in 1792, and republished ten years later. Still he may have received it afterwards; and possibly, the portrait which Sir William designed for the school was, for some reason or other, never sent. Anyhow, we would rather not say “mythical” yet. CHAPTER VI THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’ S SCHOOL IR JOHN POPHAM, though he did not live long enough to carry out all his arrangements, certainly performed his task with conspicuous zeal and fidelity. He secured a site just where Blundell had desired—near the River Lowman ; and within four years of the merchant’s decease the school, dwelling- house, and offices were in being. Over the outer gate- way was set a brass plate, with the following somewhat cryptic inscriptions : Hospita disquirens Pallas Tritonia sedem, Est Blundellinae percita amore scholae. Ascivit sedem, placuit cupiensque foveri, Hospes ait, Petre sis, qui mihi fautor eris. This free Grammar School was founded at the only cost and charge of Mr. Peter Blundell, of this town, some- time Clothier, Anno Dom. 1604 Aetatis suae 81. The Latin quatrain has exercised a weird fascination over college-bred Old Boys, and we recollect being present at an annual dinner, when the late Archbishop 124 THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 125 announced that one of the party had offered a prize of a sovereign for the best English rendering. The writer sent in some English doggerel, which he was surprised to find among the three best versions, but the prize was not awarded, the judges, amongst whom was Temple, considering that none of the translations was of sufficient merit. In this decision one com- petitor, at least, cheerfully concurs; and speaking for ourselves, we very much doubt whether a more felicitous version of a singularly infelicitous original will ever be penned than one which saw print, for the first time, some sixty years ago, Viz. : When wand'ring Pallas sought some sweet retreat, In Blundell’s School at length she fix’d her seat; “ Peter,” she said, ‘ beneath thy roof I'll rest, And at thy table sit a well pleas’d guest.” Quite the best thing produced by this competition was the following irreverent parody : Where are you going to, my pretty maid? I am seeking a home for myself, she said. And where do you come from, my pretty maid ? From the Lacus Tritonis, Sir, she said. And pray, fair lady, where may that be? "Tis an academical pleasantrie, Meaning Girton College, Cantabrigiz. And what is your fortune, my pretty maid? My learning’s my fortune, sir, she said. I was first in the list of Wranglerie, I was senior in Classics pre-eminentlee, Which, I think, you'll allow was a goodly degree, I am Scient: et Art: et Medicinae. Et Legum, Doctrixque Philosophiae. Then all that you want is the £ s. d. And you just leave for men the D.D., said he. (I am charmed to the heart with this academee; a. | vt : i _ i 126 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE Such a home to attain would fill me with glee, I long to be petted, aside said she.) Now prithee, fair sir, thy name tell me. Peter Blundell, my name, at your service, said he. Then be thou my hee—hum—host, Peter Blundell, said she, For I see youll take care of me properlee. We have already commented on the curious irregu- larity which makes the completion of the school apparently coincide with the date of Blundell’s death. It is possible that the confusion may have arisen from the fact that his executors did not wait for the erection of the school premises before initiating the benevolent scheme on which he had set his heart. In 1601—the very year that Blundell died—Popham offered the mastership to Dr. Hall, a famous divine, afterwards Bishop of Exeter and Norwich in succession. In his autobiography Hall gives the following account of the negotiations : “There was at that time a famous school erected at Tiverton in Devon, and endowed with a very large pension ; whose goodly fabric was answerable to the reported maintenance; the care whereof was, by the rich and bountiful founder, Mr. Blundell, cast princi- pally upon the then Lord Chief Justice Popham. That faithful observer, having great interest in the master of our house,! Dr. Chaderton, moved him earnestly to recommend some able, learned, and discreet governor to that weighty charge ; whose action should not need to be so much as his oversight. It pleased our master, out of his good opinion, to tender this condition~ unto me ; assuring me of no small advantages, and no great toil ; since it was intended the main load of the work should be upon other shoulders. ! Emmanuel College, Cambridge. i q n THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 127 “TI apprehended the motion worth entertaining. In that severe society our times were stinted ; neither was it safe or wise to refuse good offers. Dr. Chaderton carried me to London, and there presented me to the Lord Chief Justice, with much testimony of approba- tion. The judge seemed well apaid with the choice. I promised acceptance ; he the strength of his favour. “No sooner had I parted from the Judge than in the street a messenger presented me with a letter from the right virtuous and worthy lady, of dear and happy memory, the Lady Drury, of Suffolk, tendering the rectory of her Halstead, then newly void, and very earnestly desiring me to accept of it. Dr. Chaderton, observing in me some change of countenance, asked me what the matter might be. I told him the errand, and delivered him the letter, beseeching his advice; which when he had read, ‘Sir’ quoth I, ‘methinks God pulls me by the sleeve, and tells me it is His will I should rather go to the east than to the west.’ ‘Nay, he answered, ‘I should rather think that God would have you go westward, for that He hath contrived your en- gagement before the tender of this letter ; which there- fore coming too late may receive a fair and easy answer.’ “To this I besought him to pardon my dissent ; adding that I well knew that divinity was the end whereto I was destined by my parents, which I had so con- stantly proposed to myself that I never meant other than to pass through this western school to it; but I saw that God, who found me ready to go the farther way about, now called me the nearest and directest way to that sacred end. The good man could no further oppose, but only pleaded the distaste, which would 128 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE hereupon be justly taken by the Lord Chief Justice, whom I undertook fully to satisfy, which I did with no great difficulty, commending to his lordship in my room my old friend and chamber-fellow, Mr. Cholmley who, finding an answerable acceptance, disposed himself to the place; so as we two, who came together to the University, now must leave it at once.” Joseph Hall, then, may be reckoned the first head- — master of Blundell’s School, and so figures in the list. His friend and nominee Mr. Cholmley, in spite of his good disposition, never succeeded to that position, and the first headmaster who actually discharged the duties was a Mr. Samuel Butler, who came, it is thought, from Barnstaple and brought his scholars with him. Mr. Butler held office for the long term of thirty-seven years—a period of service which, up to the present, no subsequent headmaster has exceeded. Popham had studied at Balliol College, Oxford, and he employed a portion of the two thousand pounds which Blundell had bequeathed for “the increase of good and godly ministers of the Gospel” in establishing scholarships at his old college, one of which was to be held more than two centuries later by Frederick Temple. Not a year had elapsed after Blundell’s death before Popham nominated the scholars—two at Balliol College, Oxford, two at Emmanuel, and two at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. These arrangements were afterwards amended. Sums were invested for the support of a fellow and scholar at Balliol, and two fellows and two scholars at Sidney Sussex; and still later, another fellowship and another scholarship were estab- lished at the former college. In Temple’s case, as in that of many other men, a Blundell’s scholarship THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 129 at Balliol proved a stepping-stone to a Blundell’s fellowship. The late Archbishop, referring in the Exeter Guildhall to his early days in Devonshire, once remarked: “I was at a school at no great distance from you, a school which was then certainly one of the best in the West-country, and which [ think still holds the same place. From thence I received what was really the chief means of my attendance at Oxford, for I took with me the Balliol scholarship, and so long as I was there I received the benefit of this Devon foundation. I was a Blundell scholar, and I was a Blundell fellow. I remained a Blundell fellow until an offer was made to me to enter the service of the Crown.” The final transformation took place some years after the late Archbishop had given up residence at Oxford, when the two fellowships and the two scholarships were melted down into five scholarships, as at present. The last two Blundell’s fellows were the Rev. W. C. Salter and the Rev. D. M. Owen, the latter of whom, happily still living, must feel uncommonly like a dodo. The Sidney Sussex fellow- ships are also extinct, but although the top rungs of the educational ladder have been, locally speaking, sawn off, the penultimate steps, as represented by the close scholarships, have been spared for the younger generations of Blundell’s foster-sons. We do not propose to attempt a picture of the school as it probably appeared in 1604, since it would be more grateful to postpone a description of the buildings to a later page in their history, when they had had time to grow mellow and venerable and gain something of that ineffable charm, not untinged with pathos, which invests even material things that have 9 130 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE been steeped in human companionship and love. Here we will be content with recording a few details, which it will be convenient to mention without delay. The roof of the main building, which rises to a height of thirty-six feet (that of the walls being eighteen), is said to have been copied from the chapel of Frithel- stock Abbey ; and there is a tradition that much of the timber employed in the building consisted of Spanish oak and chestnut, from the wreck of the Armada. Although this class of evidence cannot be received as entirely authentic, there is at least a chance of its being true. The pulpit of St. James’s Church at Exeter is also said to be spoil of the Armada; and Torquay can still show the Spanish barn at Torre Abbey, where a large number of prisoners were confined. Possibly some of those prisoners belonged to the St Peter, of five hundred tons, one of the two hospital ships appointed for the Spanish navy, which came ashore in Hope Bay, near Salcombe. The crew was thoroughly dispirited, and before the authorities could take measures for securing the prize in the Queen’s name, she was set upon and plundered by the country-people. After a time news of the wreck reached George Cary, of Cockington, one of the deputy- lieutenants of the county, at Plymouth, and he im- mediately rode across country to Hope, and arranged for the disposal of the crew and the recovery of what remained of the cargo. He found the hulk lying full of water on a rock, when she soon fell to pieces ; and perhaps some of her timbers may have been utilised for the interior fittings of Blundell’s School. Whatever their origin, the ceilings endured to the end, but the floors and wainscot, having become much THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 131 decayed, were renewed in 1773. The great gate, which was apparently of wood, had been removed for the same reason in 1697, and iron gates substituted. It was at this time also that the porter’s lodge was erected, Blundell not having included in his plans either lodge or porter. The school was still young when the Great Civil War broke out. Tiverton Castle was held for the King, and in October 1645 Fairfax with his troopers clattered down the green and proceeded to occupy the school, pending the siege which Massey had already begun. There, on the same Friday on which he arrived, Fairfax held a council of war. Mr. Arthur Fisher, one of the best living authorities on Blundell lore and a most devoted and intelligent Old Boy, says the two generals and seven or eight colonels “sat heavily in the school-house.” The phrase, a reminiscence of Blackmore, was probably seductive, for we can discern no lack of energy in the proceedings of the Parliament generals, who stormed and captured the Castle on the ensuing Sunday, doubtless to the great “amazement” of their hosts, whose sympathies would have been all the other way. The dramatic episode has inspired a very pretty ballad, entitled “A Page of Blundell’s History.” The clang and crash of hoof and mail Awoke the burghers brave ; The Ironsides rode up the glen By Lowman’s silent wave. Right straight to Blundell’s dome they sped And thunder’d at the gate: Trembling, the porter draws the bolt, Nor durst, so summon’d, wait. 132 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE With clank and tramp the troopers wake Strange echoes round the Green, Of boyish battles, mimic wars, Lately the joyous scene. Foremost the stern commander rides, His charger iron-grey, Past Ironing Box the Ironside, That field of many a fray. They enter now the lofty walls, Where some prepare a meal; Some tie their horses to the screens; Some prove the glitt’ring steel. Again the Armada’s timbers hear Fierce warfare’s dread alarms. Vengeance has come! The Briton now ’Gainst Briton turns his arms. Soon forth there sped two horsemen brave, To view the place of might ; On Exe’s bank they rein’d their steeds, And marvell’d at the sight. The Castle old, out of the mist Of Exe’s winding flood, All ruddied o’er (the day’s bright orb Appearing) nobly stood, Majestic were the rugged elms ; Fair was the greenwood bower ; St. Peter’s sacred fane thereby Raised high its holy tower. Silent was all the air around ; As diamonds shone the dew; Spangled with stars the verdant turf Flow'rets of many a hue. Well might those horsemen halt and gaze Upon a sight so fair, For loyal hearts and royal blood Had tabernacled there. THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 133 Back straight to Blundell’s School the twain, Spell-bound in solemn thought, Ride silently, and there arrived, The vision they report. Through all the vicissitudes of that troublous time the work of the school appears to have been carried on practically without interruption. It is clear from entries in the great book of accounts that the masters drew their salaries regularly, and the only suspicious circumstance in connection with these items is the extra- ordinary amount spent in repairs, which, it has been thought, could hardly have been necessitated by ordinary wear and tear on account of the recent erection of the buildings. In 1647 over forty-five pounds was expended in this way. Nearly twenty thousand “helling stones” or slates, more than fifty hogsheads of lime, and labour for two hundred and fifty-seven days had to be paid for. Between 1648 and 1653 over a hundred and thirty-seven pounds—a large sum for those days— was required for “ mending schoolhouse.” The stone is believed to have been drawn from Collipriest Quarry. With reference to the alternate visitations of Puritan and Cavalier, Master Culpepper tells us that Essex’s horses, “being drawn up in a body, many of them lost their shoes upon White Down, in Devonshire, near Tiverton, because moonwort” grows there, and “moonwort will loosen shoes from those horses’ feet that go on the places where it groweth.” We wonder whether our authority was aware, in assigning this explanation, that the spot (which is about two miles from Tiverton, on the road to Cullompton) is bewitched. Of a surety it is. Within the memory of persons still living, or lately deceased, men and women were afraid 134 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE to pass the desolate scene after nightfall; and horses, tis said, on approaching the fatal cross-roads, would instinctively start and plunge. How came White Down to be haunted? Possibly for the following reason. In 1626, as Exeter was suffering from the plague, the assizes were held at Blundell’s School, when, according to a certain Farmer Roberts, the judge’s name was Dinham, and one Master Fry was High Sheriff of Devon. During the proceed- ings a Dutchman was found guilty of robbery, and a Chevithorne man, named Comins, of sheep-stealing. Sentence of death was passed on them, and they were hanged at White Down, or “ Whiddon,” as the country- talk hath it. We may be mistaken, but we trace a connection between these executions, the haunted con- dition of the spot, and the loss of the horse-shoes. The moonwort theory we reject entirely, holding it no better, and, in this context, considerably worse, than moonshine. As will be seen later, White Down is a place pos- sessing some slight association with Archbishop Temple. We do not propose to follow the history of the school step by step. This could only be done by way of the masters, most of whom appear to have been good, but dull, men ; and even Mr. Rayner, one of the best, owes what celebrity he enjoys far less to his own undoubted talents than to the colossal caprice of Bampfylde Moore Carew. Writers, artists, actors, and others of the class oft inappositely dubbed “ Bohemian,’ make obeisance before him ; bow down before Carew, for what ye are content to do half-heartedly, with many a regretful sigh for the flesh-pots of Egypt—or not at all—this courageous son of Blundell did literally, com amore, and throughout a lifetime. THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 135 Bampfylde Moore Carew was the son of the Rev. Theodore Carew, Rector of Bickleigh, near Tiverton, and was born in July 1703. When twelve years old he was sent to the great school in the neighbouring town, and there made the acquaintance of many lads as well born and bred as himself. He is said to have been an apt scholar, and he certainly retained what he learnt, for when in the course of his wild career he elected to pose as a parson, he could patter enough Latin and Greek to obtain—we use the phrase in a social, not the legal, sense—benefit of clergy. Such, however, were not the arts on which Carew most prided himself. He had a style of cheering the hounds of which he alone knew the secret ; and he was the patentee of another accomplishment, not quite dissimilar—that of fascinating dogs. He was a sort of Orpheus, and any of the canine species, of whatsoever breed or dis- position it might be, could not choose but follow him. Whether he vexed the soul of any local master of hounds—and is there anything a master of hounds regrets more keenly than the loss of “ Spanker”?—does not appear, but by hook or by crook a fine subscription pack was compiled by the boys at Blundell’s School, the officials being Bampfylde Moore Carew, John Martin, Thomas Colman, and John Escott, all youths of good family, and therefore, of course, privileged to do what was right in their own eyes. One day a farmer called on the young sportsmen with the welcome intelligence that in one of his fields there was a deer with a collar round his neck. The farmer, too, was a sportsman, and served the scholars very obligingly as “whipper-in;” otherwise it might have occurred to him that harvest was approaching, and 136 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE a chase just then boded no good to the standing corn. Perhaps it did occur to him; the consideration, at all events, met with scant favour from the boys, who hunted and killed their deer, and on examining the inscription on the collar, found it to be the property of Colonel Nutcombe, of Clayhanger. (By the way there is, or was, at Nutcombe Barton a fine old mantle- piece adorned with hunting scenes—probably not connected with this event.) The run across a highly cultivated country bristling with crops occasioned something like a hue and cry; and Mr. Rayner found all his time occupied with receiving deputations of farmers and landowners who arrived in the last stage of perspiration and fury. An inquiry was of course inevitable, and the ringleaders, fearing the school equivalent of capital punishment, decided to “elope,” and the next day entered Brick House, an inn about a mile on the old road to Bampton. Here they fell in with a mixed company of seventeen or eighteen gipsies, feasting. Ducks and fowls, flowing cups of October, songs and country dances captivated the truants, who begged to be admitted into the fraternity. . At first the gipsies, not believing them to be in earnest, demurred, and the boys were advised, before making their final choice, to “sleep over” it. When morning came, the prospect still seemed desirable, and accordingly the good-natured gipsies consented to adopt them. Oaths were administered, the proper ceremonies gone through, and from that hour Bampfylde Moore Carew was gipsy confest—so much a gipsy that ultimately he was chosen king. This story must have been perfectly familiar to Temple, who was at school with the late Mr. Thomas "IOOHOS AIO STIHGNOTH JO MUA LNOW ‘ ywaas An &q ydvadoyst] B Mod * THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 137 Carew, M.F.H., and Rev. Robert Baker Carew, for so many years rector of Bickleigh. These gentlemen were not, as has been sometimes believed, lineal descendants of the gipsy. They were rather collateral relations many times removed. Neither is it true, as was idly reported, that the family would gladly have destroyed all trace of their famous kinsman, and even took steps to have burnt any copies of his Life found circulating in the town, and especially in the school. On the contrary, the Rev. R. B. Carew was disposed to treat the matter humorously and declined to see in the purloining of stray puppies any serious blot on the family escutcheon. This excellent clergyman, who shared Temple’s birthday, once told me of an interesting coincidence. Mr. J. S. Cotton, late editor of the Academy, had written to me, as a former contributor, invoking my help for an article on Colonel Stedman which he was inditing for the Dictionary of National Biography. Stedman was supposed to have been buried at Bickleigh; and obedient to Mr. Cotton’s wishes, I posted down to the village to inspect the register, which was deposited at, the rectory. Mr. Carew was then almost totally bind, but the butler and myself succeeded in unearthing the desired entry, viz. : 1797,—John Gabriel Stedman, Tiverton, Aged 52. March 7th. This settled, Mr. Carew, always the essence of kindness, took me out into the adjoining churchyard, showed me where Stedman was buried, and told me what he knew of that extraordinary person, of whom I had previously never heard or read. Stedman, he said, had distinguished himself in two ways—by writing a 138 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE work on Surinam, and marrying a half-caste called Joanna. Before he died he expressed a wish to be interred, as our kings and queens were formerly, at midnight and by torchlight ; and, of all the odd things, he wanted to lie at Bickleigh, side by side with Bampfylde Moore Carew, for whom, as a kindred spirit, he probably felt particular esteem and admiration. Now Carew is buried in the churchyard under the window of the south aisle, which is next the chancel, while Stedman lies on the opposite side of the church, immediately before the vestry door. Why his body was not laid to rest in the spot he had chosen is not known for certain. Perhaps he had been anticipated by some humble parishioner, whose bones could not be disturbed ; perhaps the rector was unwilling to be a party to a kind of post-mortem comedy. But the Bohemian touch was not wanting. The rector, it seems, was commonly known in the village as “ Maister,” and an old thatcher who lived in a cottage opposite the south gate of the churchyard, and who had been present on the occasion, informed Mr. Carew that “Maister” and his curate, Mr. Walker, having to sit up on a cold night to perform the ceremony, comforted themselves in the approved fashion. The cordial took effect on “ Maister,” and he had not proceeded far when, turning to Mr. Walker, he said hastily, “ Here! you bury him.” We now come to the coincidence. Forty years before the mother of the old thatcher had attended the funeral of Bampfylde Moore Carew, who, after twice visiting America, returned to his native village, where he died June 28th, 1758. Singularly enough, the gipsies, or “ polliards” as they were sometimes called, were under the delusion that THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 139 Carew was buried, not at Bickleigh, but several miles farther down the Exe, at Rew, where at certain seasons they surrounded his imaginary grave, and, having strown flowers on it, sang the “ Polliards’ Ode,” viz. : FIRST VOICE Free from sorrow, free from care, Free as water, fire, and air, We, the motley sons of chance, Round this hallow’d grave advance. CHORUS Thus by love and duty led, [All bowing. We kiss the turf on Carew’s head. SECOND VOICE King of freemen, thou shalt rise, And find a crown in yonder skies; While kings who governed slaves below Shall envy thee, and sink to woe. CHORUS Thus, thus by love and duty led, [All bowing. We kiss the turf on Carew’s head. GRAND CHORUS Farewell, adieu, our King Carew ; And when the cuckoo sings again, On evry hill and ev'ry plain, Welll seek the grave that holds our King, And dress it with the sweets of spring. A noticeable feature in this ode is the vacillation shown between the ancient and modern modes of pronouncing the name Carew. On the first two occasions the rhythm requires that it should be pronounced “ Carey,” @ la General Sir R. Pole-Carew and the other members a I40 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE of the Cornish branch of this great West-country family. A contemporary of Bampfylde Moore Carew, Thomas Hayter, distinguished himself in a different way. On leaving the school in 1720, he was granted by the trustees a “temporary exhibition,” and with this entered Exeter College, Oxford. In 1749 he was appointed Bishop of Norwich, and soon afterwards preceptor to the young princes who were to become known as George III. and the Duke of York. A memorandum in the Bishop’s handwriting, copied by Colonel Harding, shows the Old Blundellian at work. “A plan of instruction for their Royal Highnesses during the ensuing winter, laid before his Majesty and approved by him, September 25th, 1751. “Tt is proposed that their Royal Highnesses do rise at seven o'clock, and translate such parts of Cesar’s Commentaries as they had before read till half-past eight, at which hour breakfast, allowing until nine as a sufficient length of time for that purpose; at which time will be lectures in History and Geography. “As soon as their Royal Highnesses shall have acquired the necessary knowledge, they will be taught Geometry. “At ten the translations from Czsar are to be reviewed and corrected, and new parts of that author read by their Royal Highnesses and explained to them. “ At eleven writing, arithmetic, and dancing three times a week, and the French master the other three days. “Their Royal Highnesses will be also instructed in the principles of Fortification, THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL I4I “From twelve o'clock riding and other exercises, etc. until dinner, which is proposed to be at three o'clock. “ After dinner the princes usually visit her Royal Highness the Princess [z.e. their mother] at Leicester House ; where Mr. Younge attends them three days in the week to improve them in the German language and History ; and Mr. Desnoyer [presumably the French master] the remaining three days. “Tt is proposed that the hours from seven to nine in the evening be spent in reading some useful and entertaining books such as Addison’s works, and particularly his political papers published in the year 1715; and that in general a view be had to give their Royal Highnesses a true notion of the nature of the constitution of this country, its interests, and the present state of its connection with foreign powers. “Every Sunday morning after breakfast the Bishop of Norwich reads to their Royal Highnesses a practical explanation of the principles of the Christian religion, and recapitulates the substance of the preceding lectures ; and the utmost attention has been, and will be, had to explain and inculcate to their Royal High- nesses the great duties of Religion and Morality, and particularly those that more immediately concern their Royal Highnesses, from their high rank and station.” In 1761 Hayter was translated to the see of London, and the following year he died, aged fifty-nine. Dr. Temple was therefore not the first member of the school to occupy Fulham Palace. One of the ablest of the masters was Samuel Wesley, the eldest brother of the more famous John and Charles Wesley, who received the appointment in 142 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE 1734, and held it for nine years. To Wesley, who was in several senses an ambitious man, residence at Tiverton was far from pleasing. He sighed for the intellectual dissipations of the metropolis, and, like Herrick, could not be content in “dull Devonshire.” In a letter to his brother Charles written from Blundell’s School, 29th September, 1736, he describes his case thus: “I am in a desert as well as you, having no conversable creature but my wife till my mother came last week.” He evidently imported some of this sourness into his school duties, and when Henry Kiddell, in a poem entitled “Tiverton,” which was published in 1757, hit off the idiosyncrasies of various masters, he refused to say a good word for him: Wesley alone (curst with excessive pride)— Wesley alone shall want me for a guide; To him I leave dry puns in scales to poise, And wield the birch, the terror of all boys. The truth is, Wesley belonged to the genus zrritabile vatum a fact which ought to have made Kiddell at least more considerate to his failings. Another circum- stance which bespeaks our regard is that he devoted his talents to celebrating in elegant couplets the virtues of Peter Blundell : Exempt from sordid and ambitious views, Blest with the art to gain, and heart to use; Not satisfied with life’s poor span alone, Blundell through ages sends his blessing down. Since worth to raise, and learning to support, A patriarch’s lifetime had appeared too short While letters gain esteem in Wisdom’s eyes, Till Justice is extinct and Mercy dies, His alms perpetual, not by time confined, Last with the world, and end but with mankind. THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF BLUNDELL’S SCHOOL 143 The following is offered as a specimen of Wesley’s satirical skill : Strange is the power of snuff, whose pungent grains Can make fops speak, and furnish beaux with brains; Nor care of cleanliness, nor love of dress, Can save their clothes from brick-dust nastiness. Some think the part too small of modish sand Which at a niggard pinch they can command; Nor can their fingers for that task suffice, Their nose too greedy, not their hands too nice; To such a height with these is fashion grown, They feed their very nostrils with a spoon. One, and but one, degree is waiting yet To make our senseless luxury complete ; Some choice regale, useless as snuff, and dear, To feed the mazy windings of the ear. CHAPTER -Val HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON EMPLE entered Blundell’s during the head- mastership of Dr. Dicken, but there is reason to think that the school acquired the characteristics which then marked it, and that peculiar reputation to which we now look back with mingled surprise and amusement, under Dicken’s immediate predecessors, the Rev. Richard Keats and Dr. Richards. It was they who formed the school that Temple knew. The late Archbishop, as a young man, must have been perfectly acquainted with the more recent features of the school’s history, for, as we shall see, he made a point of attending the annual school-feast, at which Old Boys were wont to fight their battles o'er again, and the writer himself has been present at luncheons, not only with Temple but with some of Dr. Richards’ pupils, who regaled their auditors with graphic descriptions of that lively time. In Temple’s early manhood, many of those who took part in these celebrations belonged to the age of Keats—to the juniors a sort of heroic age, wherein certain traditions were first planted. Mr. Keats was appointed upper master in 1775, and resigned in 1797. Under him “ lines ” were commenced, and amongst other innovations was an exercise for 144 HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 145 the monitors, who were required to produce, almost extempore, an epigram on a given subject. This was not announced until half-past eight, and the epigram had to be ready by nine. A similar plan was in vogue at Winchester, where Keats had been educated ; and a curious anecdote has been handed down concerning a Wintonian who had been an object of ridicule in the college on account of his odd ways and the fact of his wearing a wig. On the master proposing the thesis “ Decus et tutamen,’ this boy immortalised himself almost immediately by stepping out, placing his wig on his hand, and saying— Haec coma quam cernis varios mihi suppetit usus, Then turning the wig inside out so as to form a night- cap, he continued— Tutamen capiti nocte, and, placing it on his head, concluded— dieque decus. Interesting notices concerning Keats have been bequeathed to us by old pupils, themselves long since dead and gone. “There was a peculiarity in his manner,” says one, “which, successful as it eminently was with him, could scarcely be recommended as a pattern to other masters. It required the singular combination of gravity with drollery (which characterised him) to command the most profound respect. At the same time he carried on a constant playfulness of manner, so much so that a more uniformly severe teacher may with difficulty comprehend how each boy in the school stood in awe of a master who had a sobriquet for almost every one of them, and who bao) 146 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE watched the opportunity with the instrument of cor- rection (which he carried over his shoulders, composed of a piece of knotted whip-cord at the end of a stick, nick-named by him ‘ Discipline’) to strike the toes of any boy who rested them against the front board under the desk, affecting to be about to chastise some nearer delinquent, so as to throw off his guard the really contemplated victim.” Here are some extracts from a letter received by a Tiverton gentleman in 1858 from one of Keats’ disciples, which throw light on the constitution of affairs towards the close of his headmastership : “TI am sorry to be informed of the degradation of Tiverton School. I was sent there when about nine, but was not under Mr. Ley, having been so far instructed by my father as to be placed in the Upper School. I was then sent to Winchester, but, failing in interest to be put in the college, was sent to Mr. Richards, brother, I believe, to him of Tiverton, and at that time usher of Hyde Abbey. I hated this school so much that, Mr. Keats being in Winchester, I entreated him to take me back, which he did. I was head boy at Tiverton before I was fifteen. The manners at Tiverton and Hyde Abbey were so different! At Tiverton the pugilistic art and amusement and wrestling were patronised. Orchard excursions ; a fowl or duck now and then unexpectedly killed; baiting a badger or two; getting into the gates, and keeping a few donkeys for equestrian exercises on Saturday and Sunday till turned out towards Cullompton Common on Monday morning, were beneath Mr. Keats’ notice. At Hyde didicisse fideliter artes was construed differently ; esollit mores signified to become effeminate ; HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 147 mec sinit esse feros, to become cowards and mean. I never was flogged at Tiverton, but Tiverton manners and those of Hyde Abbey differing so greatly procured me that attention daily, which, not being suitable to my feelings, I would not stay....The Tiverton factory was built in my young days by my friend Dennys’ father and a Mr. Lardner as a woollen manu- factory, and a great temporary misfortune it was to Tiverton. It ruined at once all the homely but comfortable serge-makers, and all their combers, carders, and spinners. I am told, but cannot vouch for it, that in about a year upwards of two hundred persons had to receive pay from the parish who, until then, had never expected such a misery, to say nothing of the alteration that abject poverty caused in their motals.,. ...” Such then was the end of the system by which Peter Blundell and many another old Tiverton merchant made their fortunes. Returning to Keats, his principal achievement at the school was the institution of the composition and speaking medals, these prizes in after years ranking about as high in the estimation of Blundellians as the Hertford and Ireland at Oxford. The old Wintonian no sooner found himself established at Tiverton than he approached the trustees with this proposal, which, says Mr. Incledon, “met with a cheerful reception.” That was in 1776. For the moment nothing was done towards realising the project, but in the following year the trustees subscribed enough for a die and some silver and copper medals. The. die cost nearly fifty pounds, the price of a silver medal was about eight shillings, and that of a copper medal four shillings. 148 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE The design of the medal, executed by a Mr. Pingo, was due to the “politeness” of Coplestone Warne Bampfylde, Esq., one of the trustees. The obverse represented Minerva crowning a youth with a laurel wreath, and bore the inscription DETUR DIGNIORI; the reverse showed the school, beneath which was, PETRUS BLUNDELLUS, FUND. DON. MDCIV. ; and above IN PATRIAM POPULUMQUE FLUXIT. The Marquis of Rockingham and two or three other gentlemen having requested that a medal might be struck off at their expense, permission was granted, but subsequent applica- tions were refused. ‘Thus the medals were confined to the noble marquis, leader of the Whig party and for a short time Prime Minister, and the fortunate gentlemen who were early ; the trustees, who had them in both silver and copper; the boys, who received them as prizes ; and the headmaster, Mr. Keats, who was pre- sented by the trustees with a silver medal in recognition of his services. In 1833, the old die being quite worn out, a new one was provided, when the representation of the school on the reverse was taken from a drawing by Mrs. Boulton, wife of the then lower master. What time the scheme was still in its infancy, the boys were induced to send in their exercises on the promise of silver medals for the successful competitors. Accordingly in 1777 the long series of literary bouts was initiated, and a prize awarded John Matthew for a Latin oration on the founder of the school, while William Wrey was proclaimed the best speaker. Look- ing a little farther down the list, we find that in 1780 the speaking medal was won by A. Elijah Impey. In the following year the same boy won the medals for speaking and verse composition, and in 1782 the medal HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 149 for prose composition. The name “Impey” will pro- bably give pause to the student of eighteenth-century politics. Yes, he was the son of the Elijah Impey so well known as the friend of Warren Hastings. Sir Elijah, the father, was of course a Justice of the High Court in India, and in a letter addressed to “ Arch” now in the British Museum, he remarks, “ Your uncle has shown me the letter you wrote him from Tiverton, by which you inform him of your having gained a medal at your school. . . . Though I was disappointed at your not staying at Westminster, you have so far amply made up for it.” From this it would seem that the boy had chosen the school contrary to his father’s wishes. In a letter to his brother Michael, the judge observes, “I much approve of Arch’s going to Oxford from Tiverton school. I hope his master was liberal in the pecuniary recompense which he offered him, and that when he goes to College, he will not be stinted.” Alas! Impey’s name does not appear in the list of - “temporary exhibitions” or “occasional gratuities,” which, as we have seen in the case of Hayter, it was the practice to confer on boys at the school, though something of the kind wasclearly earned. However,some years ago a portrait of the medallist, framed in Blundell oak, was presented to the school by Mr. Arthur Fisher, who has thus atoned for the parsimony of Mr. Keats. Mr. Keats’ son, Richard Goodwin, who was educated at the school, became a distinguished naval officer, and at the time of his death was a G.C.B. and Governor of Greenwich Hospital. He was contantly employed on active service, but one of the battles in which he took part deserves particular mention, as the Old Blundellian was quite the hero of the occasion. We 150 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE refer to the attack on the French squadron off St. Domingo, on February 6th, 1804. Previous to this action Captain Keats suspended from the mizen-stay a portrait of Lord Nelson, so bringing home to the hearts of all present the memorable words of their late great and gallant commander, “England expects every man to do his duty.” The officers on the quarter-deck took off their hats, and the band played “God save the King,” and “Nelson and the Nile.” In the midst of their enthusiasm the fleet advanced in close succession and perfect order, the Superb, a seventy-four commanded by Captain Keats, leading. The enemy now made an effort to escape by cutting their cables. The squadron, however, succeeded in destroying two ships, one carrying a hundred and twenty guns, and the other seventy-four ; and in less than two hours three others were captured, of which one was an eighty-gun ship, and the two others seventy-fours. For this gallant action Keats received the thanks of Parliament, and a handsome present from the Patriotic Fund. The commander, Admiral Duck- worth, in his despatches, thus commented on the affair: “T cannot be silent, without injustice, to (szc) the firm and manly support for which I am indebted to Captain Keats, and the effect that the system and good order in which I found the Swgevd must ever produce; and the pre-eminence of British seamen could never be more highly conspicuous than in this contest.” On Mr. Keats’ resignation in 1797 he was succeeded by the Rev. William Richards, LL.D., of New College, Oxford, and flagellatory memory. Many are the stories which have been told in our hearing of this stern pedagogue. With every school anniversary he seemed to grow grimmer, his birchings increased in both number HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON I51 and violence, and his eyes glared with greater malignity. Artemus Ward observes that it is the privilege of schoolmasters to lick creation, and it seemed to us that Dr. Richards not merely licked his pupils, but in doing so beat all rivals out of the field, Dr. Busby not excepted. Conceive our amazement, therefore, on turn- ing to Colonel Harding’s “short and simple annals” of the masters, to read that this monster of Old Boys’ Day, this chastiser with scorpions, held the post of headmaster “with credit to himself and advantage to his numerous pupils.” In our zeal for accuracy we were tempted to emend on the margin “with advantage to himself and credit to his numerous pupils,” which would have better harmonised with tradition, and, to some extent, with fact. Dr. Richards was certainly a very successful headmaster. According to a state- ment made in public by the late Sir John Duntze, he amassed sixty thousand pounds out of the school, which was never more prosperous than under his sway. There were over a hundred boys within the gates, and the total number at one time exceeded two hundred. When he retired, after a reign of twenty-six years, he was presented with a handsome piece of plate purchased by grateful old pupils, and bearing the modest and elegant inscription : VIRO EGREGIO ET DOCTISSIMO GULIELMO P. RICHARDS, LL.D., QUI VIGINTI SEX ANNOS SCHOLAE TIVERTONIENSIS PRAEFUIT, DISCIPULI EJUS TANTORUM IN SE BENE: FICIORUM HAUD IMMEMORES HOC MUNUSCULUM SUMMA CUM REVERENTIA TRIBUERUNT, 152 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE This parting gift, whether deserved or not, assuredly . did credit to the donors. We are far from saying that Dr. Richards did not deserve it, and are much averse from affixing any unjust stigma to the memory of one who may have had his faults, but who, we are confident, had his virtues also. Probably there were two Dr. Richards ; or, in other words, he was regarded in different lights by different classes of boys—a “ terror to evil-doers” and a “praise to them that did well.” The only other plea that we can urge in extenuation is that his temper did not improve with age—“ Crabbed age and youth never did agree”; or, vice versa, it may have been, as is the case with some, that as his locks whitened his disposition became more mellow, more benevolent, more saintly. But we must confess that we cannot dismiss as false the accumulated evidence convicting him of harshness and_ neglect. It is remembered against him that he not unfrequently began the day’s work by flogging half a dozen boys, some of whom admired him for it. An old school- fellow of Jack Russell, writing on the subject of Old Boys’ Day, remarked “I wish the school all success, as all Old Blundellians do; but you never had such a master since old Richards, and you never can have 1 It may perhaps interest the reader to learn how far a school- master might go in the direction of severity. In Burns’ /ustice of the Peace, published in the very year that Richards became headmaster of Blundell’s, we meet with the following paragraph: “Where a schoolmaster, in correcting his scholar, happens to occasion his death if in such correction he is so barbarous as to exceed all bounds of moderation, he is at least guilty of man- slaughter; and if he make use of an instrument improper for correction, and apparently endangering the scholar’s life, as an iron bar, a sword, or kick him to the ground, and then stamp on his belly, and kill him, he is guilty of murder.—1 Haw. 73, 74.” HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 153 such another!” Precisely. The master’s indifference to the comfort of his pupils was appalling. Breakfast consisted of a roll with a small quantity of milk ; “tea” was} breakfast over again, and supper there was none. At dinner the boys had only one carver—an old woman who used her fingers and knuckles as freely as her carving knife. The meat, too, was sometimes brought on to the table portentously “high.” Morning ablutions were performed at a pump, and the hardihood of the boys was increased still further by the variations of temperature to which they had to submit. During the winter gales it was a by no means rare event for - sleet to find its way through the unceiled roof and drip on the boys’ copy-books, while at other times all writing had to be suspended because the ink in the desks was frozen. Singularly enough, most of the evidence clusters about the year 1810; and the first witness whom we shall call will be the Very Rev. W. R. W. Stephens, biographer and son-in-law of Dean Hook: “Soon after this the two brothers were removed to Tiverton, in Devonshire. Their recollections of the school were not pleasant. The teaching was indifferent, the discipline severe, and the food scanty. They saved up their spare pence to buy buns and loaves to alleviate the pangs of hunger. In the letters, however, written by Walter at this time there are no complaints, and in his handwriting there is a very great improve- ment. The style of his letters becomes curiously grand and sententious, but they are written then, as ever after, in pure, sound English. In one too long for transcrip- tion bearing date November Ist, 1811, he begins,— “ My dear mamma,— You will with me pity that wicked 154 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE boy, Henry George Salter, who is now publicly expelled from the school; and his master, Master (szc) Richards, blotted his name from the Register, October 30th, 1811, that it may be handed down to generations. Then follows an account of how this wicked boy enticed another to run away with him, having borrowed a watch, which he afterwards sold, saying they would go to London, where he would persuade his grand- mother to leave him her immense fortune, which he would divide with his companion. The runaways were captured, and Salter wrote a contrite letter, upon which young Walter observes, ‘Well, so far, one would think him to be penitent Salter, but I say Salter the hypocrite’ ; and he then goes on to relate how this naughty boy repeated the escapade, after which he was expelled in the awful manner described in the beginning of the letter.” We now come to Jack Russell—the famous Parson Jack of later years, who often sat side by side with the late Archbishop, when Bishop of Exeter, at Old Boys’ luncheons, and received from him plenary absolu- tion for his indulgences in the hunting-field. Russell was in his fourteenth year when he came to Blundell’s from Plympton Grammar School, and, like the rest of them, was brought up hard. There is a story to the effect that the headmaster, returning ‘from his daily ride, heard a complaint against Russell, seized him by the collar, and thrashed him out of hand with a heavy whalebone riding-whip. The late Rev. E. W. L. Davies thus relates the cause of the trouble : “Old Richards on one occasion found that his boys kept rabbits. He ordered them all to be got rid of. Now Russell did not keep rabbits, but he did keep ferrets. —— > HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 155 A lad named Hunter kept rabbits. Hunter was a bully, but he was also a monitor. The monitors then as now were a lordly race, and as Russell was but a little way above ‘the block,’ he would have been expelled to a dead certainty if he had given a practical illustration (@ /a Bulteel) of his views of bullying. As it was, he was obliged to content himself with putting Hunter’s rabbits in along with his ferrets. The rabbits naturally got the worst of it, and so in the long run did Russell. Not from Hunter, who, like most bullies, was a coward at heart, and dared not touch him, but from old Richards, to whom Hunter told his tale, and who gave Jack the soundest horse-whipping he ever had in his life.” When he was about sixteen, Russell, tired of ratting and rabbiting, began to yearn for the ding-dong of the hounds. Almost incredible as it appears, he and a kindred spirit named Bob Bovey actually started a pack of their own. The farmers, whose 'goodwill he had already won with his ferrets, gave him most cordial support. One would say “he'd a-got a hare sitting in Fuzzy Park bottom, and ef Maister Rissell wid on’y bring up his cry, he'd turn un out sure ’nuff.”. Another would tell him that his “old blind mare had mit wi’ a mishap, got stogged in the mire, zo he’d a-knacked her on the ’ead, and Maister Rissell was kindly welcome to her vor the dogs!” Of course, this sort of thing could not last long. Dr. Richards sent for Bob Bovey and expelled him on the spot. Then came Russell’s turn. “You keep hounds?” said old Richards, blue with rage. “No, sir,” replied Russell fearlessly. 156 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE “Do you dare to tell me a lie?” asked the doctor, striking the boy with great violence. “Tis no lie, sir,’ answered Russell: “Bovey stole them yesterday, and sent them home to his father.” “That’s lucky for you, or I’d have expelled you too,” rejoined Richards. Accordingly, Russell stayed on three years longer, and gained the speaking medal and an exhibition of #30 per annum for four years. The first instalment of his exhibition he spent in buying a horse, and though he bought him of a friend, that friend, being the Rev. John Froude, of Knowstone, could not resist the temptation presented by a deal in horse-flesh, and cruelly “did” him. Mr. Baring-Gould,in his Book of the West, relates the following story, which we fancy he must have obtained from the Rev. J. B. Hughes, late headmaster of Blundell’s. Until we saw it in that work we had never heard of it, and can express no opinion as to its truth. “I tell the following tale because it was told in Blundell’s School of Russell, during his lifetime, as one of his pranks, but I mistrust it. I believe the story to be as old as the twelfth century ; and if I remember aright, it occurs in one of the French Fabliaux of that period. “Dr. Richards had some very fine grapes growing against his garden wall, under the boys’ bedroom window. ‘Jack was as good as his master, and the young scamp was wont to be let down in a clothes- basket by night, by his mates, to the region of the grapes, and to return with a supply when hauled up. “The Doctor noticed how rapidly his grapes dis- appeared, and learning from his man John the cause, HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 157 took his place under the vine with his gardener, who was ordered to lay hold of the boy in the basket and muffle his mouth, lest he should cry out. This he did when Russell descended ; and Richards took his place in the clothes-basket. The boys hauled away, wonder- ing at the accession of weight, but when they saw the Doctor’s head level with the window, panic-stricken they let go their hold of the rope, and away went Doctor and basket to the bottom. “No bones were broken, and nothing came of it, the Doctor being rather ashamed of the part he had played in the matter.” A somewhat different view of Richards from that which we find in the foregoing recollections is afforded us in some letters of a boy who came to Blundell’s from Wiltshire, and ultimately from Wales; and from Blundell’s went to Oxford, where he took a first-class, and became a fellow and tutor of his college, Vinerian scholar, and proctor. In a letter dated “ Tiverton School, Wednesday, February 11th, 1318,” he writes: “TI suppose you already know that I have left my uncle’s paternal roof, and am here in Tiverton. I left Broad-Hinton on Tuesday, 3rd of this month, slept at Bath that night, left it on Wednesday morning at ten o'clock, and then proceeded on my journey, and arrived here at four o'clock on Thursday morning. I found it very cold all night, as I was outside of the coach, and, to add to my discomfort, there was no one up at the inn at which the coach stopped here, so that I had to stand about in the cold, half-frozen as I was, till they had got up to. let me in, but they soon made up a comfortable fire. I had my bed warmed, and then went to bed. I took my breakfast at the inn 158 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE next morning, as I was very hungry, not having eaten anything since I left Bath ten o'clock the preceeding morning. “ About twelve o’clock I came to Mr. Richards (the headmaster). I was shown to the parlour where he was, and after having sat a little while, he took me out and introduced me to a couple of head boys who were then arrived, and desired them to take care of me. He was in every respect kind to me. I break- fasted with him in the parlour on Sunday morning. He is a married man and his family consists of two little girls, the eldest only about four years old. He is of a very good disposition, and I like him very much, as much as I know of him. I went to school on Monday. There are two schoolrooms, one. for the lower and the other for the higher classes; but there is no fire in them, and we are dreadfully cold while there. I am in the higher school, in the third class below the head class. We sleep two in a bed no bigger than my little desk-bed at home. “There are only about a hundred boarders here. We have for breakfast a penny roll and about a tea- cup-full of milk and water. We are only helped once at dinner ; sometimes we get a good plateful, and at other times scarcely enough to feed a crow, just as it happens. We have a small piece of bread and butter or cheese for supper and a teacup-full of beer. These are our meals. From what I have said you can judge how I am situated, yet I am as comfortable as I can expect to be in so large an establishment. You must not think, my dear mother, that I am un- happy here, for I shall be as happy as a prince when I have heard from you. I shall look forward to the HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 159 time when we shall meet again and be able once more to talk to each other. I hope you will excuse the bad writing, and every other defect in this letter, as I am in a hurry to send it by this evening’s post, and consider that there are about a dozen boys playing and talking together.” In another epistle to his mother he observes: “T received Tom’s letter on Monday, in which he says it is your wish that I should write a long letter, so that you might receive it. before Sunday. You wished to know every particular as to the school. I think it is a very good one, and I trust I shall improve under Mr. Richards’ care. Tell Tom and Harry that Latin verse is a very essential requirement here, as I have to do twenty lines a week (but the class does thirty) in our play-hours, and two themes, an English and Latin one, every week. I will tell you the books I read that you may satisfy yourself. They are Cesar, Virgil, Horace, Homer. As to Mr. Richards, he is very careful of the boys, if they are unwell or have colds or anything the matter with them, so that you have no reason to be anxious on that account. We can get into no mischief, even if we were disposed, which I hope is not the case, as we do not go out- side the gates of the play-ground after three o’clock. “Our names are called over at half-past seven in the morning, when every one who is not in school forfeits twopence and stands a good chance of a box on the ear from Richards. They are called over again at nine when we breakfast; at one, dinner; at six, supper ; at eight, when we go to bed,—so that we are obliged to be pretty regular. We go to church twice a day if it is a fine Sunday, but the Sunday before 160 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE last being a very wet one, Mr. Richards read prayers to a numerous audience, as we were all there. We have prayers read every night before we go to bed by one of the monitors. We must be tolerably ex- peditious in getting into bed, because Mr. Richards comes round in about two or three minutes after, and if we are not all in bed he is very angry. Sometimes the boys hear him come up, perhaps before they have pulled off their trousers, and when they try to jump in in that state, they get entangled in them sometimes, If you send a box, I should like to have a neat pen- knife with two blades that is very sharp, and if you could send a hone to sharpen it upon and plenty of paper, as there is so much writing in this school that we fill three sheets of this sized paper [quarto] every week; and likewise send some fine paper, a good quantity, for letters, and sealing wax and wafers, as it will be cheaper than having them here. If Tom has got any books that he thinks will be useful, he might send them, such as Cornelius Nepos, Xenophon’s Memorabilia or Cyropaedia. As to paying the postage of the letters, I think you need not do that, as Mr. Richards pays for them all, and not the boys. Don’t make yourself uneasy by thinking that I am uncomfort- able here or anything of that kind, for it is not the case.” Another boy hailing from Wiltshire was Abraham Hayward, who, like Hook, was to become famous. His rather remarkable Christian name—which he hated —was the surname of his mother’s family. At the age of seven he was sent to a private school at Bath, and three years later migrated to Blundell’s, where it is recorded he found both the diet and discipline From a lithograph by B. Rudge. INTERIOR OF BLUNIELL’S OLD SCHOOL. HEROES BEFORE AGAMEMNON 161 exceptionally severe. Indeed, it was his belief in after life that the hard fare permanently injured his health. However, he became a good Latin scholar, an excellent swimmer, and a very skilful fisherman and diver. As Hayward’s charm was, to a great extent, immediate and personal, and so less known and appreciated by those of the present generation than by his. own con- temporaries, it may be recalled that he had the qualities, with their defects, of the finished man of fashion. He was an associate of the magnificent Count D’Orsay, and, as all Englishmen are said to do, dearly loved a duke. Although by no means prepossessing, he was a great favourite with women, and made it his boast that he wanted only half an hour’s start to beat the handsomest man in town. But Hayward was no mere superficial dandy. He was of sufficient eminence in his profession to become a Queen’s Counsel, while a high authority declared that for the purposes of cultivated society Lord Macaulay and Mr. Hayward were the two best read men in London. His chief attraction lay in his ready wit, his wonderful power of story-telling, and his repartee. This comes out hardly at all in his letters and only to a limited degree in his essays, which, however, are distinctly more interesting. When asked to write an autobiography, he replied, “No, my reminiscences are in my essays ;” and, in truth, they are a lasting proof of his great literary skill and vast range of reading. Many of them originally appeared in the Quarterly. While Hayward could scarcely be expected to look back on his privations with gratitude, or even patience, he would probably have been willing to attribute some measure of his success to the mental, and even physical II oth URE "" 162 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE training he received at Blundell’s. In his declining years he evidently regarded the school with esteem— not to say affection; for in 1870 he presented the library on its foundation with a copy of his translation of Faust, published so long ago as 1832, and still reckoned one of the best. Moreover, he complimented the school by styling it the “Eton of the West,” which description was not exactly flattery, since in Hayward’s time, whatever may be the case now, Blundell’s had never a rival in the westernmost shires. ! CHAPTER VIII TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL'S T was on a cold, dark morning in January, 1833, that Frederick Temple entered Blundell’s with all the uncomfortable sensations of a new boy. One of his companions on this occasion—Tom Clarke—still survives. He was the son of a gentleman living in Bampton Street, Tiverton, and mentions with pardonable pride that Temple’s name appears in the old school register just below his own. His elder brother, Dick, had entered five years earlier, and as he also is in the land of the living, must be rapidly qualifying for the position of doyen of the school, though, we believe, he has not quite attained it. Both brothers knew Temple very well, and it adds to the interest of the acquaintance- ship that their father, though residing at Tiverton, was the owner of the Bridwell estate near Uffculme, and in a direct line between the school and Temple’s home at Axon. Consequently the fine old hall must have been a sort of landmark to the future Archbishop in his long trudge twice a week between those consecrated spots. One of the monitors in the days of Temple, and the very boy in whose charge he was placed, was named Edward Pearce. He spent the greater part of - his life at Dorchester, where he was partner in the bank of Eliot, Pearce & Co., and died in 1885. 163 164 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE What were Temple’s first impressions of Blundell’s ? We do not know that he has ever described them, but it is not difficult to realise his feelings. As the door closed behind him with a clang—it is safe to aver that no Blundellian “ of the old school” will ever forget that awful sound—he must have felt that escape was im- possible, and that it was his duty to make the best of the trying circumstances. Prayers are read, and then the headmaster calls the new boys to his table. Already his class have come up to say some work. They are the monitors, and naturally inspire the novice with instant awe. Probably, after the manner of young men, they make fun of points in his personal appear- ance. The headmaster examines the other boys, and meanwhile the Culmstock lad looks about the room. In after life, when recounting his boyish experiences, Temple would speak of the panels on the walls as “those dear old panels,” and of the roof as “that dear old roof,’ but at this moment in his career he probably saw nothing dear or fine in them, and he might have been excused for doubting whether he was in a barn or a church. The caps and gowns were certainly ecclesiastical, and the upper and lower master were both clergymen. On the other hand, it is likely enough that several of the fellows were eating apples; and if he had looked very hard, he might perchance have seen one boy hand another a ferret. Such, at least, were the evil ways of Blundellians seventy years ago. At length the master asks him to write his name, and the examination over, he is told to go back to “the block.” He starts at this expression, and a monitor is sent with him into the lower school. The “block” turns out to be nothing worse than the bench on which TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 165 the lowest class sit, and from which they take their name. At four o'clock he has to answer the usual questions, “ What’s your name?” “How old are you?” “Where do you live?” “How much money have you got?” etc. and is shown the Ironing Box and Poole’s Lane, the battlefields of Blundell’s. This, it must be confessed, is a fancy sketch, although in perfect harmony with the uniform experience of boys attending the school, and in that sense authentic. But if Temple has given us no complete account of the first day of his connection with the school, he has recalled one incident sufficiently characteristic. “I was sitting,” he said, “in front of the fire in the room where we spent our leisure time, when a big boy came in and pulled my hair. I was rather a sharp- tempered lad, and immediately rising, knocked my assailant off the seat on which he was sitting. He did not strike me in return, but standing beside me, said, ‘You're a plucky little fellow, and no mistake, But depend upon it, you'll catch it if you go on like that.’” We have referred above to Temple’s personal appear- ance. The recollections of those who were with him at the time enable us to form a tolerably good idea of his look and bearing at the age of twelve. Many years ago Dr. Salter, late Principal of St. Alban’s Hall, Oxford, in a letter to the Rev. J. B. Hughes, observed that he perfectly well remembered Temple arriving at the school—a tall big-jointed, shambling boy, with his long black hair falling over the collar of his jacket ; and another old school-fellow, after remarking that he was a good football player, proceeds to say, “1 have a vivid recollection of the activity he displayed, rushing 166 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE to and fro with trousers much too short, coarse blue worsted stockings, and big heavy shoes.” Woe to the player with whom those shoes came in contact! but the wearer was not spared in return. At first he was unpopular, and very much bullied. On one occasion when he was chased by the boys round and round the school green, Mrs. Folland, wife of the porter, opened the door of the lodge and took him in for protection. For this act of kindness the lads boycotted her for three weeks—a serious matter, since all the boarders bought their “tuck” from her. However, the new boy soon asserted himself, and be- came one of the best football players in the school. Temple’s early unpopularity and Mrs. Folland’s solicitude were, no doubt, partly to be accounted for by the fact that he was not “inside the gates’—ze,, a regular boarder. He lodged indeed with this very Mrs. Folland in what was then called Cop’s Court, but now is named the Retreat. The entrance to this court is in Gold Street, but it runs down in the direction of the school, so that Temple, if not inside the gates, was not far outside them. Mrs. Folland was known to the rising generation of Blundellians as old Mother Cop. Her husband was named “Cop” because he wore copper boots at flood-time, and so the distinction was shared by the wife whom he loved and the court wherein he dwelt. Mrs. Folland, a kind, motherly dame, looked after Temple with exemplary care, and he repaid her attentions with gratitude. For example, she always went to bed at nine o'clock, and whenever he called on the Clarkes or dined with their relative Mr. Rayer, at Tidcombe Rectory, he would always return early so as not to keep her up. TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 167 Such conduct reflects much credit on Temple, but probably made little impression on the young gentle- men, who prided themselves on being within the gates, and were disposed to treat other Blundellians as out- siders. Blackmore, in Lorna Doone, supplies us with a graphic description of the manners of these privileged youths and the style in which they rode rough-shod over the home-keeping boys. “On the 29th day of November, in the year of our Lord 1673, the very day when I was twelve years old, and had spent all my substance in sweetmeats, with which I made treat to the little boys, till the large ones ran in and took them, we came out of school at five o’clock, as the rule is upon Tuesdays. Accord- ing to custom, we drove the day-boys in brave rout down the causeway, from the school porch even to the gate where Cop has his dwelling and duty. Little it recked us and helped them less that they were our founder’s citizens, and haply his own grand-nephews (for he left no direct descendants), neither did we much inquire what their lineage was. For it had been long fixed among us who were of the house and chambers, that these same day-boys were all ‘caddes, as we discovered to call it, because they paid no groat for their schooling, and brought their own commons with them. In consumption of these we would help them, for our fare in hall fed appetite; and while we ate their victuals we allowed them freely to talk with us. Nevertheless, we could not feel, when all the victuals were gone, but that these boys required kicking from the premises of Blundell’s. And some of them were shop-keepers’ sons, young grocers, fellmongers, and poulterers, and these, to their credit, seemed to know 168 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE how righteous it was to kick them. But others were of high family, as any need be, in Devon—Carews, and Bouchiers, and Bastards—and some of them would turn sometimes, and strike the boy that kicked them. But, to do them justice, even these knew they must be kicked for not paying.” In such an establishment as Blundell’s a day-boy, if his existence was to be tolerable, must be either a lion or a fox. We have heard of one Tiverton lad, bearing the very unusual name of Barzillai, who essayed the part of fox, and played it with remark- able success. Owing to the privilege which the day- boys enjoyed, and the boarders did not, of transacting business in the town after three o'clock, Barzillai con- stituted himself a sort of agent for the boarders at times when they were under restraint, and received and executed all kinds of commissions, principally in the confectionery line. One day the worthy baker, concerned for the boy’s morals, went to his father, a fellow-tradesman, and confided to him the extent of his dealings. “What a stomach your son must have!” he re- marked. “And wherever does he get so much money ?” “ Don’t you trouble about that,” answered the apothe- cary, laughing. “Of one thing you may be certain— no matter what money Barzillai may have, he comes by it honestly.” A Catholic divine, of great culture and erudition, has observed, “ Newman was sent to no public school ; and we may be thankful that his sensitive nature, almost feminine in its delicacy, was not exposed to the ways of that barbarian life” And another writer of the same church—Father Lockhart—has illustrated TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 169 in a striking way Newman’s art of self-defence in those contingencies for which the training of a public school may be deemed a special preparation. There was a tradition at Oxford in his time that on a market- day when the upper end of the High Street, near Carfax Church, was much crowded with roughs, and the Town and Gown elements were liable to come into collision, Newman was walking past All Saints’ Church in the line of march of a furiously drunken butcher, who came up the street foul-mouthed and blasphemous. When they were near together, a muscular Christian, who was stroke of his college boat, expecting violence, came close behind the butcher, and was just making ready to fell him when he saw the man stop short—Newman was speaking to him. “My friend,’ he said very quietly, “if you thought of the meaning of your words you would not say them.” The savage was tamed on the spot; he touched his hat, turned round, and went back. All’s well that ends well, but let us suppose that the butcher had been less amenable to reason, and there had been no muscular friend at hand to extend his protection. How would Newman have fared then? Manning and Trench and Wordsworth, who had all been at Harrow, might have been trusted to give a good account of themselves, and Temple was as muscular as any of them. Physical stamina and endurance, one of the best results of public school life, is not to be decried; and although it may have been well for Newman not to have been put through the mill, we cannot think that intelligent opinion will favour such coddling in the case of average boys, and the practice of many Roman Catholic families is entirely opposed I70 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE to it. However, the usages of public schools in those days were undeniably rough. There is a legend at Blundell’s that a commission sat at Tiverton to inquire into the malpractices among the boys; and the origin of this commission is said to have been the burning to death of a new boy in the initiatory rite of “roasting.” The process was as follows. The big boys, having strapped the new boy sideways on a form, placed him with his back as near as might be to the hall fire, while they basted him from time to time with cold water. Should the tyro stand this Indian torture courageously, he was received as worthy of the ‘school ; otherwise, he was marked off for further bullying. On the occasion in question some sudden excitement summoned the boys to the Green; and when they came back the sufferer was roasted so as to be beyond human aid, and soon after died. A tragic variation of the tale makes the elder boys leave the hall, and the small boys listen to the agonised cries of the victim, whom they feared to help lest, on the © return of the big boys, they should themselves occupy his place. The story is no doubt partly mythical, though it probably assisted in bringing about the inquiry which did so much to ameliorate the condition of small boys at Blundell’s. While such fiendish experiments as these are to be un- reservedly condemned, “fagging” in some of its aspects —perhaps on the whole—was a beneficent institution. The school, for practical purposes, was assembled in two houses within the gates. The headmaster’s, or upper house, had about forty-five boarders, and the lower house, Dr. Boulton’s, about twenty-five. There were many day-boys, whose lot, we now know, was unfortunate. TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S I71 Unless they could pay their way by dinners, teas, suppers, and outings to favoured boarders, they were treated as the scum of the earth, fit only to be bearers of messages into forbidden precincts of the town, and thrashed at will by any small house-boy who dis- approved of their conduct. This the youngster could do with impunity, for the small boarder knew, and the big day-boy he was licking was equally aware of the fact, that the least sign of resistance would inevitably draw into the quarrel the whole force of boarderdom, much to the disadvantage of the day-boy, who could count upon no similar succour. As a rule the town boys had little to do with the internal affairs of the boarding-houses, but there were exceptions. If there was a prospect of turning their services to account, the boarders, we may be sure, did not lack wit to see it, or audacity to profit by it. A case in point occurs to us. One morning, when the day- boys arrived as usual to share the tasks of their superiors, they were informed that there had been a tremendous row during the night. The day before had been the Fifth of November, and the doors of the sleeping apart- ments having been barricaded, the inmates had kept up the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot in style, letting off fireworks through the windows, and. paying no heed to the stern demand of the headmaster for admission. Crowbars were then sent for and the doors forced, after which the names of the ring-leaders were taken and order restored for the night. The mutineers were now awaiting the consequences ; and the day-boys, though they had taken no part in the orgy, were required to give their retrospective sanction to it. In other words, they were warned that 172 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE when the headmaster mounted the rostrum to denounce penalties on the transgressors, they must receive his remarks with hooting, or else they would one and all be given a good licking. As the offence was a most serious one, involving the expulsion of one or two monitors, and the birching of one or two others advanced to the dignity of tail-coats, it was, to say the least, a very pretty dilemma for those commanded to join in the chorus.! Most of the fagging took place in connection with the fare, which, as regards the official menus, was no better than it had been in Richards’ time, and, indeed, from time immemorial. Breakfast consisted of a bowl of milk, a warm roll, and a pat of butter, which the boys had to spread with their spoons, no knives being allowed. For dinner there was a sufficient quantity of good meat and vegetables, with a mug of beer ; and supper was as primitive as breakfast, being composed of a larger slice of bread and butter, a lump of cheese, and a mug of beer. We have come upon a difference of opinion among old boys regarding this dietary. One of them maintains that it was wholesome and sufficient, and the small boys were content with it, while another maintains that a penny roll looked very small indeed to a hungry boy, who had been at work for two hours; and suggests that the limited spread may have been due to the system of Protection, which still prevailed in this country, though soon to be abolished in favour of the cheap loaf. 1 Referring no doubt to this incident, Colonel Cranston Adams once said that when at school his name was given up as a ring- leader of an unlawful display of fireworks, holden on the Fifth of November, and that he was flogged by Mr. Sanders for a thing he never did, never wished to do, and could not have done if he had. It would be seen what it was to have family luck ! TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 1738 However that may have been, the big boys grew fastidious, and formed into small societies or clubs of four or five members, which supplied, each for itself, a tea-set and some plates, knives, and forks, together with a little capital out of which a store of tea and coffee was provided. These were known as “ drinking- parties.” Whenever one member of the club received a hamper, its treasures were placed at the disposal of the whole party, and its bacon especially was sent down in slices day by day to “Old Mother Cop” at the gates to be fried. If she supplied a dinner-plate full of fried potatoes browned over, with the fried bacon placed on top, she charged one shilling for the dish ; but if she simply fried the bacon and returned it on a hot pewter plate, she was content with the dripping-fat. Mrs. Folland was an excellent cook. “She dressed,” said one of her clients, “ everything we could afford to get for breakfast, but nothing in my recollection was ever so good as the fried potatoes, and never since have I tasted that dish in such perfection.” The working of each of these clubs was confided to a senior small boy or “fag,” who was allowed by the monitors, the custodians of order, to go into the kitchen and perform various jobs for the benefit of his employers. His chief duties were to see that the break- fast and tea tables were properly laid, the tea properly made, the regulation milk obtained, slightly in advance, in the morning—cold ; and that enough milk was re- tained in the morning to serve for the evening meal. He had also to keep the services clean, and for all this he shared as one of the club without being required to contribute towards its expenses. The situation of 174 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE “fag” was eagerly sought after by the senior small boys. A fag, who was dismissed for drinking out of the spout of the teapot after breakfast, protested that the charge was unjust—he had only poured the tea down his throat out of the spout. The plea, uttered with many tears, met with no acceptance, his masters failing to recognise the distinction. The water with which the boys washed was placed in their rooms overnight. It was poured into open basins, not jugs, and out of this circumstance arose a practice which was partly bullying, partly fagging. The monitors and big boys dwelt—we are speaking of the upper house—in the kitchen rooms. The senior small boys occupied the outer hall and four- bedded room, and the small boys tabernacled in the inner hall, which communicated at one corner with the outer hall and at the opposite corner, diagonally, with the headmaster’s apartments. Now the big boys liked fresh water for washing purposes, and as the inner hall boys could not be got at in time for the fetching of it, when the first bell rang, about half a dozen outer hallers sprang to their feet and put on trousers, stockings, shoes, and shirt. Each seized a basin, ran to the one pump of supply, and there, waiting his turn, procured a basinful of fresh water for the kitchen rooms. There was no precise punishment if this were omitted, but there rested on the boy refusing to do it in his turn a degree of disfavour, whilst those who complied were rewarded with little immunities, such as absolution from “bolstering” and fagging at cricket or football or the pardon of an accidental lie- abed. But waiting one’s turn at the pump in shirt- sleeves without any waistcoat on a winter's morning, TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 175 when the thermometer was many degrees below freezing point, was bitter cold work. Colonel Adams has stated that when he first went to school he had to sleep in the inner hall chamber, which was locked up every night. If they could afford to buy a basin they did ; if not, they went to the pump. For eighteen or twenty boys, he said, to go through these ablutions ata pump on a cold morning was rather severe, but was, no doubt, very wholesome and healthy. He added that he had very often to wash at the pump, because he, or someone else, broke his basin, but he did not know that it did him any great harm. When there was a holiday, and the big boys in the kitchen felt disposed to divert themselves before break- fast, they would get up a “bolstering.” Their weapons were bolsters beaten down tight at one end, so as to form a hard feather club, with the twisted upper end of the bolster as a handle. Their victims were small boys selected for minor delinquencies, or for general unpopularity in the halls, and each in his turn had to lie down on a bed and be pommelled by five bolsterers, two on either side and one at the bottom of the bed. All prided themselves on the force and regularity of their hits, so that unless for a chance foul blow, which occasionally came across his midriff and knocked his wind out, the victim felt like an anvil smitten by well- skilled blacksmiths, who never missed their mark. There was another and very cruel form of big-boy bullying, of which the masters were perfectly aware, but which they were powerless to check. The boys dined at two tables—the seniors at a long one, at which a master, generally the headmaster, presided ; and the small juniors at a short table, where their wants were 176 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE attended to by the housekeeper. It was thought a promotion to go from the little table to the great one, but the honour was in some respects costly. At the little table every boy had ample time to eat his fill. At the upper or long table the boys had a sufficiency of food, but as they were helped according to house- seniority, it always happened that the seniors were half-way through their dinner before the juniors were supplied. Here came in the bullying. If a match was on (we refer to school-matches ; out-matches were never played in those days, for there were no railway facilities, and the gates were always closed at 3 p.m.), or if for any other reason the big boys wanted to get away, they, as soon as they had finished dinner themselves, would pass down the word “ Drop arms!” and instantly every boy had to lay his knife and fork across his plate, and have done with it. It was in vain that the master pointed out the unfinished food. “ Appetite had failed.” It was in vain also that the master purposely kept the whole table waiting. Such mistaken kindness _ did but tantalise the hungry small boys, who knew but too well what would result to any yielding to the temptation to eat. “Drop arms!” always shortened the dinner-hour, and sent many a boy almost empty away from the dinner-table. There was one other form of bullying at the table which, though trivial, deserves mention. The knives had some of them served for many generations of boys, and the two-pronged steel forks had suffered in the wars to the extent, in some cases, of losing a prong. They were laid indiscriminately, and thus it happened daily that a house-senior would find laid for him a knife with an extremely attenuated point, and a maimed TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 177 fork. He had the right, which was constantly exercised, of exchanging these for any better knife and fork that he might find below him, so that if by any accident (such as wet weather driving the boys into hall) a longer period than usual elapsed between the advent of the boys and the coming of the master, a number of changes would take place, which would leave the un- fortunate juniors with one-pronged forks and knives about as strong and as stiff as watch-springs. Now as toanother kind of indoor bullying. Of course, . every new boy was “cramped,” which means that just after he had got over his home-sickness and consequent wakefulness of nights, and had acquired the art of going off to sleep when he went to bed, tormentors would stealthily cover his big toe with a running noose passed under the bed-clothes—and pull. The sequel need not be described. An amusing story is told with reference to this custom ; and, in order that it may be perfectly intelligible, it may be as well to remind the reader that the inner hall (bed-chambers) communicated at one corner with the outer hall (bed-chambers), and at the opposite corner with the headmaster’s quarters. “Once,” says the narrator, “I recollect our obtaining a signal revenge on our tormentors in this wise. I was then of the inner hall. One night we received through the key-hole—we were locked in—an order from the outer hall to cramp ‘ Nibby’ (now a dignitary in the Church, and then and always a favourite). ‘ Nibby’ was roused and a whispered consultation took place. We knew too well what a refusal to obey an order from the outer hall meant, and we therefore resolved upon the refuge of the weak—evasion. We asked for the cord, and it was passed through the key-hole to us, We 12 178 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE took out a sufficient length to reach ‘ Nibby’s’ bed, and we went through the form of making it fast to his toe ; only instead of his toe we substituted a small toggle of wood, which we placed in his hands. Then we signalled through the key-hole that all was right, and the outer hallers began to pull in their line. ‘ Nibby,’ of course, followed the pullers, protesting, hopping, making noises, and otherwise much exhilarating the outer hallers. “ Meanwhile we remained in our beds, quiet as mice, for an ominous light flitting around the door leading into the headmaster’s quarters had given us a caution. On a whisper to ‘Nibby’ he left the toggle of wood, which represented his toe, against the keyhole of the outer hall door and retreated swiftly to his bed. Just as he had done so the private door opened, and the headmaster and old Rich, his butler, swept through the room, and—well, we just had our revenge in seeing what happened to the Outer Hallers next morning. They didn’t try ‘cramping’ us again after that, and they were thoroughly laughed at into the bargain.” Another form of bullying was “ pulling out.” If a boy had made himself objectionable to his fellows, or if—which was much the same in that imperfect state of civilisation—he was a stranger or new boy, he was apt to be “pulled out.” By this is meant that when time enough had been allowed him to go to sleep, either he would be turned right over on to the floor between his bed and the next, or he would be landed bodily on the floor at the foot of the bed—mattress, feather- bed, clothes and all—and suffered in each case to pick himself up as best he could. There was a kind of bullying extant at Blundell’s TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 179 to which not a few of those subjected to it have accorded their approval—namely “sheep-washing.” Small boys, and especially new boys, were taken up to Taunton Pool, and having been stripped, were hurled into the deepest part of it, to swim if they had the presence of mind to try it, or to sink if they had not. There was always plenty of rescue near, and therefore no danger in the pastime, and the teaching it gave to bold boys, who had self-possession and resource, far outweighed its disadvantages in frightening milk- sops. R.D. Blackmore depicts the process, no doubt from experience, in the immortal pages of Lorna Doone. “Of all the things I learnt at Blundell’s, only two abode with me, and one of these was the knack of fishing, and the other the art of swimming. And indeed, they have a very rude manner of teaching children to swim there; for the big boys take the little boys and put them through a certain process which they grimly call ‘sheep-washing. In the third meadow from the gate of the school, going up the river, there is a fine pool in the Lowman, where the Taunton brook comes in, and they call it the ‘ Taunton Pool” The water runs down with a strong, sharp stickle, and then has a sudden elbow in it, where the small brook trickles in; and on that side the bank is steep, four, or it may be five, feet high, overhanging loamily ; but on the other side it is flat, pebbly, fit to land upon. Now the large boys take the small boys, crying sadly for mercy, and thinking, mayhap, of their mothers; with hands laid well at the back of their necks, they bring them up to the crest of the bank upon the eastern side, and make them strip their clothes off. Then the little boys, falling on their 180 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE naked knees, blubber upwards piteously, but the large boys know what is good for them and will not be entreated. So they cast them down, one after other, into the splash of the water, and watch them go to the bottom first, and then come up and fight for it, with a blowing and a bubbling. It is a very fair sight to watch, when you know there is little danger ; because, although the pool is deep, the current is sure to wash a boy up on the stones, where the end of the depth is. “As for me, they had no need to throw me more than once, because I jumped in of my own accord, thinking small things of the Lowman after the violent Lynn. Nevertheless, I learnt to swim there, as all the other boys did ; for the greatest point in learning that is to find out that you must do it. I loved the water naturally, and could not long be out of it; but even the boys who hated it most came to swim in some fashion or other, after they had been flung, for a year or two, into the Taunton Pool.” Blackmore speaks of fishing. This too had its accompaniment of bullying, for at the old pump in the court the! younger boys were made to clean out minnows, which were caught by the bigger boys. It was their practice to put these minnows into a bottle with a little vinegar and a few bay leaves, and they would then consider them a toothsome morsel. Another of the duties of the younger boys was to clean out and blow’ up by means of a quill an old football, which often had a most unpleasant smell. Hardly a day passed that did not bring with it acts of bullying which would now be regarded as exaggerated and far beyond the limit of toleration, but no notice was TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 181 then taken of them, so common were they. The acts of which we are speaking differed from the foregoing, which were part of a system, and, whether good or bad, helped to shape the character and career of every son of Blundell. The irregular outbreaks of domineer- ing seniors, though possibly inspired by example and remembrance of what had happened to themselves, be- longed to quite another category, for they spelt more than hardship—injustice. Take, for instance, the follow- ing. A small boy was requested (z.e. ordered) by a big boy—afterwards a “ dear, good, hard-working clergy- man ”—to remove from his finger a bit of broken skin. He did it clumsily, and as the result had to stand up before his superior and be hit seven times in the wind. The boy ought to have died, but he was tough enough to survive. There was no redress. The masters were a class apart. They sat and heard the lessons in the schools ; they came into the hall and heard prayers read on holidays; one of them—usually the headmaster— presided at dinner; and they came round to see that their charges were in bed. But there the connection ended. They took no part in the house-rule. The big boys saw to that. Of all the institutions at Blundell’s the first and most prominent was the duel. Fighting of all sorts was discouraged by the masters, and fighting on sudden provocation was discouraged by the big boys. A fight quick on the quarrel was never heard of, except now and then when a dispute ended in a combat in one of the bed-chambers, which served the senior small boys as studies in the afternoon. But all this not- withstanding, insult given and received had to be 182 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE avenged by a fisticuff fight. Again, the big boys arranged that. The favourite time and place for fighting was Thursday afternoon, which was a _ half-holiday, and outside the upper school under shelter of the porch—so, at least, says one account. Unless the occasion was of unusual interest the spectators were but few. Two or three big boys attended to the fairness of the play, and just who liked looked on. But, besides this, fights with single seconds took place up Lowman, and fights still further up the river on a spot where a large ring showed. En- counters also are remembered as having come off in the Lower School. Once a challenge given in the churchyard of St. Peter’s through a quarrel between two monitors in church resulted in a tremendous battle up Lowman. None of the small boys desired this fighting, but the evil traditions of the school, preserved among the elder ones, rendered it inevitable. In the foregoing description we have been guided by the recollections of an old boy, who seems to have been deeply versed in all that went on at the school in his day, which coincided roughly with Temple’s day. We are, however, bound to confess that in certain particulars his reminiscences conflict with rooted traditions on the subject. The spot commonly associated with school fights is a triangular plot of grass bounded by two paths leading to the main causeway, which plot was called the Ironing Box. In more peaceful times it was used for quoits. “Once soon after I came,” says a pupil of Sanders, “I had the satisfaction of meeting on it [the Ironing Box] a boy who began to bully me from the first, but after our meeting we lived on equal terms. The affair was conducted on the principles so TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 183 eloquently described by Mr. Blackmore in his Homeric account of the meeting of John Ridd and Robin Snell, which, I suppose, every Blundell’s boy knows by heart.” We are not so sure of that ; anyhow, it will be as well to turn to the book and refresh our memory of the historic scene. The narrative is rather long to be cited in full; we will try, as far as possible, to abridge it. “ A certain boy leaning up against me would not allow my elbow room, and struck me very sadly in the stomach part, though his own was full of my parliament. And this I felt so unkindly that I smote him straight- way in the face without tarrying to consider it, or weighing the question duly. Upon this he put his head down and presented it so vehemently at the middle of my waistcoat that for a moment or two my breath seemed dropped, as it were, from my pockets, and my life seemed to stop from great want of ease. Before I came to myself again, it had been settled for us that we should move to the Ironing Box, as the triangle of turf is called, where the two causeways coming from the school porch and the hall porch meet and our fights are mainly celebrated; only we must wait until the convoy of horses had passed, and then make a ring by candle-light, and the other boys would ike it)... “By this time the question of fighting was quite gone out of our discretion; for certain of the elder boys, grave and reverend signiors, who had taken no small pleasure in teaching our hands to fight, to ward, to parry, to feign and counter, to lunge in the manner of sword-play, and the weaker child to drop on one knee, when no cunning or fence might baffle the onset —these great masters of the art, who would far liefer see 184 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE us little ones practise it than themselves engage, six or seven of them came running down the rounded causeway, having heard that there had arisen a ‘snug little mill’ at the gate. Now whether that word hath origin in a Greek term meaning a conflict, as the best-read boys asseverated, or whether it is nothing more than a figure of similitude, from the beating arms of a mill, such as I have seen in counties where there are no water-brooks, but people made bread with wind—it is not for a man devoid of scholarship to determine; enough that they who made the ring intituled the scene a ‘mill, while we who must be thumped inside it tried to rejoice in their pleasantry till it turned upon the stomach. “ Moreover, I felt upon me was a certain responsibility, a dutiful need to maintain, in the presence of John Fry, the manliness of the Ridd family and the honour of Exmoor. Hitherto none had worsted me, although in the three years of my schooling I had fought more than three-score battles, and bedewed with blood every plant of grass towards the middle of the Ironing Box. And this success I owed at first to no skill of my own, until I came to know better; for up to twenty or thirty fights I struck as nature guided me, no wiser than a father-longlegs in the heat of a lanthorn, but I had conquered, partly through my native strength and the Exmoor toughness in me, and still more that I could not see when I had gotten my bellyful. And now I was like to have that, and more; for my heart was down to begin with; and then Robin Snell was a bigger boy than I had ever encountered, and as thick in the skull, and hard in the brain, as ever I could claim’ to: bec + “Tt is not a very large piece of ground in the angle R. D. BLACKMORE. From an unpublished photograth, by kind permission of Mr. Frederick Jenkins. ps TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 185 of the causeways, but quite big enough to fight upon, especially for Christians, who have to be cheek by jowl at it. The great boys stood in a circle around, being gifted with strong privilege, and the little boys had to lie flat and look through the legs of the great boys. But while we were yet preparing, and the candles hissed in the fog-cloud, old Phoebe, of more than four- score years, whose room was over the hall porch, came hobbling out, as she always did to mar the joy of the conflict. No one ever heeded her, neither did she expect it; but the evil was that two senior boys must always lose the first round of the fight, by having to lead her home again. “JT marvel how Robin Snell felt. Very likely he thought nothing of it, having always been a boy of an hectoring and unruly sort. But I felt my heart go up and down, as the boys came round to strip me, and greatly fearing to be beaten, I blew upon my knuckles. Then pulled I off my little cut jerkin, and laid it down on my head-cap, and over that my waistcoat ; and a boy was proud to take care of them. Thomas Hooper was his name, and I remember how he looked at me. My mother had made that little cut jerkin in the quiet winter evenings, and taken pride to loop it up in a fashionable way, and I was loth to spoil it with blood, and good filberds were in the pocket. Then up to me came Robin Snell (mayor of Exeter thrice since that) and he stood very square, and looked at me, and I lacked not to look at him. Round his waist he had a kerchief, busking up his small-clothes, and on his feet light pumpkin shoes, and all his upper raiment off. And he danced about in a way that made my head swim on my shoulders, and he stood some inches 186 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE over me. But I, being muddled with much doubt about John Fry and his errand, was only stripped of my jerkin and waistcoat, and not comfortable to begin. “*Come now, shake hands,’ cried a big boy, jumping in joy of the spectacle, a third former, nearly six feet high ; ‘shake hands, you little devils. Keep your pluck up, and show good sport, and the Lord love the better man of you!’ “Robin took me by the hand, and gazed at me disdainfully, and then smote me painfully in the face before I could get my fence up. “«What be bout, lad?’ cried John Fry; ‘hutt un again, Jan, wull’e? Well done, our Jan boy.’ “For I had replied to Robin now with all the weight and cadence of penthemimeral czsura (a thing, the name of which I knew, but could never make head or tail of it), and the strife began in a serious style, and the boys looking on were not cheated. Although I could not collect their shouts when the blows were ringing on me, it was no great loss; for John Fry told me afterwards that their oaths went up like a furnace fire. But to these we paid no heed or hap, being in the thick of swinging, and devoid of judgment. All I know is, I came to my corner, when the round was over, with very hard pumps on my chest, and a great desire to fall away. “«Time is up, cried head-monitor, ere ever I got my breath again, and when I fain would have lingered awhile on the knee of the boy that held me, John Fry had come up, and the boys were laughing because he wanted a stable lanthorn, and threatened to tell my mother. “*Time is up,’ cried another boy, more headlong ¥ than head-monitor. ‘If we count three before the come of thee, thwacked thou art, and must go to the women. | felt it hard upon me. He began to count one, two, three, but before the ‘three’ was out of his mouth J was facing my foe, with both hands up, and my breath going rough and hot, and resolved to wait the turn of it. For I had found seat on the knee of a boy, sage and skilled to tutor me, who knew how much the end very often differs from the beginning. A rare ripe scholar he was; and now he hath routed up the Germans in the matter of criticism. Sure, the clever men and boys have most love towards the stupid ones. “Finish him off, Bob, cried a big boy, and that I noticed especially, because I thought it unkind of him, after eating of my toffee, as he had that afternoon ; ‘finish him off, neck and crop ; he deserves it for sticking up to a man like you.’ “But I was not to be finished off, though feeling in my knuckles now as though it were a blueness and a sense of chilblain. Nothing held except my legs, and they were good to help me. So this bout, or round, if you please, was foughten warily by me, with gentle recollection of what my tutor, the clever boy, had told me, and some resolve to earn his praise before I came back to knee again. But never, I think, in all my life, sounded sweeter words in my ears (except when my love loved me) than when my second and backer, who had himself part of my doings now, and would have wept to see me beaten, said: ““Famously done, Jack, famously! Only keep your wind up, Jack, and you'll go right through him!’ “Meanwhile John Fry was prowling about, asking TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 187 1 a rv “i x 188 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE the boys what they thought of it, and whether I was like to be killed because of my mother’s trouble. But finding now that I had foughten three-score fights already, he came up to me woefully, in the quickness of my breathing, while I sat on the knee of my second, q with a piece of spongious coralline to ease me of my bloodshed, and he says in my ears, as if he was clapping spurs into a horse : “* Never thee knack under, Jan, or never coom naigh Hexmoor no more.’ “With that it was all up with me A simmering buzzed in my heavy brain, and a light came through my eye-places. At once I set both fists again, and my heart stuck to me like cobblers wax. Either Robin Snell should kill me, or I would conquer Robin Snell. So I went in again, with my courage up; and Bob came smiling for victory, and I hated him for smiling. He let at me with his left hand, and I gave him my right between his eyes, and he blinked, and was not pleased with it. I feared him not, and spared him not, neither spared myself. My breath came again, and my heart stood cool, and my eyes struck fire no longer; only I knew that. I would die rather than shame my birthplace. How the rest of it was I know not, only that I had the end of it, and helped to put Robin in bed.” Temple’s first fight was very much of this description save that his opponent did not put in anything like so desperate a resistance as Robin Snell. Mr. Thomas Clarke well remembers the occasion, and testifies that the enemy was soon sent running off. Referring to this encounter in his old age, the late Archbishop observed, “He was not a good boy, I am sorry to TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 189 say, and to tell the truth, he was a bit of a coward. He hit out at me, but I contrived to dodge him, and then my turn came. The end of it was that he turned tail, and ran away, with me after him, shouting as he went, ‘Take him off, take him off.’” Dr. Temple recalled this incident with evident pleasure, mentioning that his antagonist was six inches, or more, taller than himself. But he had the candour to add that, unlike John Ridd, he was not uniformly successful. An old Tiverton butcher named Davey, who was full of reminiscences of former times, and had a singularly retentive and accurate memory, assured us that one of Temple’s adversaries was a youth who afterwards prospered as “mine host” of the White Horse—an ancient place of entertainment, at whose sign the Cavaliers had hanged an obstreperous Puritan miller. This fight between the future Boniface and the future Archbishop has always seemed to us a notable instance of “coming events casting their shadows before” ; and, looked at in this way, may rank as a symbol of the never-ending battle between Ormasd and Ahriman, between light and darkness. Dr. Temple was, of course, a staunch advocate of total abstinence. One result of this coarse fighting temper was that the juniors were not only encouraged, but compelled, by the big boys to fight outside the gates as well as in. The boy-world of Tiverton was in those days divided into three sections. First there was the aristocracy, named by themselves Blundell’s boys, and nicknamed by their enemies “tin-pots” or “tay-pots.”! Secondly, 1 Some uncertainty exists on this point. If “tin-pots” is right, the name may be explained as a pun on Latin scholars, “Latin” meaning tin, or more simply as an abbreviation of “ Latin,” the last 1g i ‘St 190 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE there were the “Blue” boys of the rival foundation school, hated by the Blundellians, who at the same time regarded them as beneath contempt. And thirdly, there were their direct opponents, the “cads,” or “ chaws,” as they were sometimes called. The precise status of these “cads” was somewhat doubtful, but it was shrewdly suspected that somewhere in the town there was a “commercial” boarding-school. If so, its existence was known only to be ignored. Now these “cads” would nvade up Lowman, and bathe in Taunton Pool, the school bathing-place, now abolished ; and against them the big boys compelled the small scholars to wage incessant war. If more than two of them met any number of “cads” without offering battle, they would have an account to settle when they got home and the circumstance was found out, while a beating given by the “cads” to small parties was, as a rule, speedily avenged. It is remembered that on one occasion a number of Blundellians going up Lowman met two of their small boys badly beaten, and with their fishing-rods broken. A large party of “cads” had done it on their way to Taunton Pool. The Blundellians returned for reinforce- ments, and proceeded to the Pool, on approaching which they descried a big detachment of the foe bathing. Withy rods were cut, and about a third of their number crossed the river, and, favoured by the high bank on the left, surrounded the Pool, cutting off the “cads” from their clothes. Then, as the miserable wretches were syllable being alone preserved. ‘ Tay-pots” or “ tay-kettles,” on the other hand, would refer to the recitations or “spoutings” which were part of the school discipline, and in which the boys were taught to strike an attitude. , a TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S IgI compelled by cold to come to land, the avengers thrashed their naked bodies with the rods. We may not ask whether such conduct was gentlemanly, or brave, or a credit to the boys concerned. Such questions are futile, for the simple reason that it was the use of the school in those times. Moreover, the party was led by a well-placed boy in the third form, the class then next the monitors. Not the least interesting part of the affair was the sequel. The parents of the beaten boys came that afternoon and made complaint, and the beaten lads themselves appeared in order to identify their assailants. The masters threatened the culprits with expulsion, gave them time to change their clothes, and when they mustered in the upper school, no identification took place. And now for what we are sure must interest every- body—the Archbishop’s verdict on this remarkable state of things. It was given at St. Edmund’s School— the boys’ institution in connection with the Clergy Orphan Corporation—Canterbury. “The school which I attended was certainly a very good school at the time I was there, although of a rougher kind than would be usual in England now. It was my lot at school always to have to wash at the pump in the morning. All the boys washed at the pump. It was not, in some respects, as nice as washing in one’s bedroom, but it had its merits, because if a boy was inclined not to wash himself the others washed him. I have before now helped to hold a fellow under the pump because we did not consider that he had washed enough. It was altogether a rougher state of things than now exists. “Then, too, we had in the school a great deal of 192 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE fighting, which has now wonderfully diminished. We used to fight each other on rather small provocation con amore, and, as a general rule, if two fellows fought they became intimate friends before they left the school, and dated their friendship from the time they used their fists on each other’s faces. But the school possessed a characteristic which, I think, especially clings to English schools, and that was that the boys at bottom were high-minded, gentlemanly fellows. I am afraid that in those days the boys did tell untruths to the masters, but they considered themselves bound never to tell lies to anybody else. In those days the masters were looked upon as enemies in every way, to be plagued and tormented, if it could be done with safety. I think that feeling has now entirely disappeared. Nowadays the masters take part in the boys’ games, and the level of teaching has become more Christian, and certainly animated by a higher spirit.” Pagan as Blundell’s may have been, it was able to inspire the boarders, if not the day-boys, with the deepest affection, which continued to their latest breath. Some years ago Mr. W. F. Dewey related that once in London he was summoned to the bedside of a dying man who had sent for him solely because he had been a fellow-student of his at Blundell’s. The dying man talked to him about the school, and showed great delight in his recollections. As regards the day-boys we are less certain. Temple and Blackmore, who (and this may have made a difference) were only town-boys by adoption, seem to have digested any unpleasant memories, and not merely forgiven—clearly, they loved the school. But we have a vivid remembrance of TEMPLE ENTERS BLUNDELL’S 193 an interview with a grizzled old general, who had seen service in all parts of the world, who bore an honoured name, and who hated Blundell’s, because he had been bullied, and bullied unmercifully, there. He had been a day-boy. * aq CHAPTER) & HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN ROM what has preceded it is evident that the annals of Blundell’s School and its most illus- trious disciple cannot be separated from those of the town of Tiverton, though—with sadness we confess it— the relations between school and town have not seldom been anything but amicable. So far as Archbishop Temple is concerned, such separation is plainly im- possible, partly because he lodged in the town and was a day-boy, and partly because he would have seen no point in the distinction, his love for Tiverton being only second to his love for Blundell’s, and the whole forming part of his deep and heart-felt attach- ment to the old county of Devon. Town and Gown touched at so many points that we might have experi- enced a difficulty in deciding where to begin, but as attention is being directed to Blundell’s boys, and to Temple in particular, there is no room for doubt or hesitation. We must speak first of the hope of Tiverton —the “Blue” boys and the “cads,” with whom those favoured youths were always more or less at variance. To describe the Bluecoat School as a vzval establish- ment to Blundell’s is to accomplish a delicate stroke of humour or irony, for the children—they were of both 194 HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 195 sexes, not only boys—frequenting that academy were drawn from a different social stratum even from the humblest of “caddish” Blundellians, being in the most literal sense “charity boys” ; whereas the others, if they paid no groat for their schooling, for the most part entered Blundell’s to finish their education. It has been stated by an old Blue boy, who was a contemporary of Temple and remembered him well, that his schoolfellows were better writers and ready- reckoners, and more articulate speakers, than the mass of scholars to-day. This witness and encomiast of days gone by was one of the boys privileged to be elected to the great social and educational advantages of the charity school, as it stood in St. Peter’s churchyard. Richly endowed by generous and impartial patrons, it was yet part and parcel of the church-house, the boys and girls being required, in return for their clothing and instruction, to be diligent church-goers, both Sundays and week-days. The master of the boys was Hugh Wood, and the mistress of the girls Joan Gill. Each had fifty scholars, who were admitted at nine years of age, and to whom various occupations were assigned. The girls began with spinning wool into worsted, and later they were taught to knit their own worsted into stockings. This knitting, by the way, was a kind of task work, as ‘two hundred pairs had to be turned out per annum, the dirty and “ holy ” adornments being discarded every half-year. It is possible that those girls who failed to accomplish their tasks were punished with “tatey” heels longer than the others ; and when the day came for them to go into the boys’ school to learn writing— as they did when they had reached the susceptible age 196 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE of from twelve to fourteen years—the exposure would be a severe infliction, worse than any amount of cor- poral punishment. And, saying this, we lay not the soft impeachment against the respectable master and mistress that corporal punishment was not exercised by them. On the contrary, their reputation for ability to “lay it on,” whether in respect of hand or back or any other portion of the human anatomy, was equal to that of the best pedagogue of the time. The method of correcting refractory boys—our friend did not testify whether girls were so treated—was original, the culprit being hoisted up on the back of another boy, who held his hands, so that the spanking was rendered easier for the far from lenient master, who, we were assured, was as strict with the girls as with the boys. The young ladies, it need not -be said, received no en- couragement from Mr. Wood in winking and “carrying on” with the bashful lads who sat opposite, and by whom the writing days were anticipated with mixed feelings. They might even then have been laying the founda- tions of deep matrimonial schemes, to be carried into effect when the tight knee-breeches were superseded by the more modish trousers. When our late friend first went to school the suits were of grey material, but as the colour was thought to be not quite in keeping with the character and dignity of the establishment it was altered to blue. But a difficulty arose about the stockings. In order to change the colour of these also, the boys were sent in pairs to the old dye-house— then where the Tiverton Drill Hall now stands— having the stockings slung from a broom-handle which rested on their shoulders. Now mark what wickedness there was amongst boys seventy years ago! The HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 197 stockings, fastened together at the toes, were dipped into a blue dye, and handed back to the boys streaming wet. When the lads returned to the school they might have been taken for “missing links” with the blue-faced monkeys, so freely had they indulged in smearing each other on the way. The stockings, still wet, were served out by the master and mistress, and the gratified recipients took them home to be rinsed. Our lamented friend washed his stockings in the Low- man, down by the bridewell. Next came the great annual treat, when the new clothes were inspected by the “benefactors.” As the school was endowed it is hard to say why anybody .should be so distinguished, but the nomination of the boys and girls rested, it seems, with certain of the inhabitants. The scholars, then, having been properly drilled by the frequent repetition of their speech, were paired up and set off, generally on the last Monday of November, to the houses of the gentry. Hand in hand they walked through the town in their new habiliments. How idyllic! Arrived at the door of the “benefactor,” the eldest would summon up courage to strike with the mighty knocker, and they would be invited indoors. Gathering up more courage for the speech, they would say, “We are sent here by Joan Gill and Hugh Wood to return thanks for our clothing and good education ;” and then they were “paced” by the benefactor, somewhat in the manner of an expert tailor, to show off the figure and form and fit. Approval] was generally expressed by the bestowal of sixpence each, and an invitation to “something to eat” in the kitchen. What became of the sixpence we cannot say. We imagine, however 198 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE that there was the usual standing treat of coffee and ginger-beer by the boys, and then would come the turn of the girls. So it is safe to conjecture that nothing was left for the fathers and mothers, wherewith to mark the auspicious day. Sundered from Blundell’s School by the sluggish Lowman lay one of the most disreputable parts of the town, called Elmore. It was tenanted by all sorts of dissolute people ; indeed, the whole quarter from Cherry Gardens to Lowman Bridge was compared to a well-known Biblical city, in that there was not a righteous man in it—no, not one. Every denizen, whether male or female, was utterly depraved, and there was a kind of conspiracy among them to check every advance made from outside with a view to improve and elevate them. They had a special aversion for the watchman—a thoroughly incompetent official, who has been happily replaced by the more courageous police-constable. Sunday observances in Elmore were usually carried out in due form round the cock-pit, or held round the tables set up here and there for the purpose of bearing the weight of jars or mugs of foaming brown, which was readily supplied by the publicans. How long the tables, chairs, and occupants remained upright is a problem, but disturbances and free fights were of daily and nightly occurrence, and the special constables of the district, when summoned to quell an affray, would advance far enough to observe the number of those who were participating, and then beat a hasty, if discreet, retreat to a more desirable neighbourhood. On fair-days the “ Stretch, ” since covered with decent dwelling-houses and a school and mission-room, was HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 199 the domicile of proprietors of dancing bears, monkeys, and other portable menageries, and a perfect pande- monium reigned until they took their departure to fresh woods and pastures new. The more tractable of the inhabitants of Elmore were not beneath, or above, practical joking. It was no unusual event for churchgoers to find suspended from the rails in front of the building the announcement, “ Mangling done here.” Nor was it a rare occurrence for those whose names graced their front doors to discover that during the night an unskilled artist, with a paint brush and pot, had added to or substracted from the original embellishments, so that the name had become un- recognisable to the owner or tenant as belonging to him. A really colossal freak of this order was perpe- trated one Saturday night. The next morning, as the people were entering St. Peter’s Church by the south porch, they were shocked at seeing, stuck on the top of the monument of Martin Dunsford, the venerated historian of the town, an enormous hat, two or three feet high, with a proportionately wide circumference. This hat was painted black, except for an aggressively bold inscription in gold letters—“Collard, hatter.” This had been removed from its place over the owner’s shop during the night by skylarkers, who, it transpired, had at the same time detached a barber’s pole from one Hurley’s shop, opposite the Angel, and nailed it against that of a well-known lawyer of the town, who had the reputation of being a terribly close shaver of his clients. But these were tricks of a mild description ; the worst phases of Elmore are as un- mentionable as they are scarcely imaginable now. Eccentric characters are a never-failing source of 200 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE amusement to boys, and Tiverton appears to have been exceptionally well provided with such specimens. As we have been speaking of Elmore, we may begin with an individual hailing from that neighbourhood, although his work lay in a remote quarter of the town. Gath’s factory, once a hive of prosperous industry, has been closed for many decades, probably none of the employés being now alive to tell its tale. Situ- ated at the bottom of Westexe, it carried on a con- siderable trade in the manufacture of woollen fabrics, and afforded employment to men and women, and boys and girls. The workpeople were generally derided as “greasy factory hands,” presumably from the peculiar nature of their employment, in which it was necessary to use oil. Certain it is that the “hands,” young and old, were distinguished for their dirty and greasy appearance. The wages, too, at this factory were on so low a scale as barely sufficed to keep the employés ftom the parish. Among these was a man well known, not only among his fellows in the mill, but in the town at large, named John Hex, but nick-named “ Plant-the-leg.” It would have been hardly correct to call him an imbecile, for not only was he able to perform his allotted task at Messrs. Gath’s “greasy” establishment, but he had a mind stored with an infinite quantity of odd sayings and quotations, which, like Shakespeare’s “fool in the forest,” he would vent in mangled forms. John had a weakness, also, in the shape of over-attachment to the ale-house ; and it was in the evening, when he returned to his home in Elmore by a zig-zag course through the streets, that his characteristic qualities became manifest. A number of boys, and sometimes men, would stop him ae HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 201 with the demand, “Plant your leg, John Hex, and spout!” Whereupon he would assume the attitude that gave rise to the term “plant,” and regale them witha homely saying, a proverb from Solomon, or a couplet of poetry. Our informant, when a boy, heard him deliver himself of such aphorisms as the following: “ Man goeth forth to his labour till the evening.” “One soweth, another reapeth.” “Let not ambition mock our useful toil.” “ The juice of the grape for the high and haughty, the _ meaner liquor for the poor and needy,” ete. It remains to be told that, to the great regret of the townsfolk, the old factory had to be closed, and many, too many, of the “greasy” workpeople were compelled to go upon the rates or embrace the alterna- tive—the workhouse. Among the latter was the pro- verbial philosopher, and we must hope that his wisdom was duly appreciated by the other inmates of that dreary mansion. As the Blundell’s boys were adepts at bathing, they would naturally have taken particular interest in the caprice of one Martin, who dwelt in that centre of refinement, “the bottom of Westexe.” He lived alone— that is to say, he was never married—and for many years he was in the habit of bathing every morning, both summer and winter, in the Exe, near the weir. This was perhaps a laudable practice, but the strange thing about him was that he bathed in his clothes, and in the summer months, when he came out of the water, allowed them to dry on his body. One terribly severe winter the river was frozen so hard, both above and below the bridge, that not only was skating indulged in, but various sports were held and a drinking-booth 202 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE. erected on the ice. Of course, poor Martin’s customary morning dip was no longer feasible, and by a curious coincidence, at the very time the ice hardened he was seized with an illness which ended in his death. This was attributed to his persistence in a practice never before heard of, which might have gone unpunished when in his youth he had been strong and robust, but had, as it was thought, carried him off at last. Martin himself took quite another view. Even when dying he protested to those about him that his illness and approaching dissolution were the result, not of his cold bathing and marvellous process of drying, but of the suspension of the custom, consequent upon the river being frozen. Those who are familiar with the circus and menagerie combined, its “hundred horses” and numerous artistes of both sexes, can have little idea of what the first of these entertainments consisted, when about seventy’ years ago it was announced by posters that “ Saunders’ Troupe of Equestrians” would shortly visit Tiverton. A field near the town would be engaged for a week, and a space roped in for the performers. The spectators stood round, no sitting accommodation being deemed necessary. The “riders” were two in number, a man and a woman, Saunders confining himself to a poor attempt at tight-rope dancing. The band consisted of two local musicians—to wit, Jack Pardon with his: flute and James Hussey with a clarionet. No charge was made for admission, but the means of carrying on the show were supplied by the proceeds of a shilling lottery, the prizes of which were few and of small value. After the prizes had been awarded to the holders of the lucky tickets, the entertainment always HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 203 concluded with a representation of John Gilpin’s famous ride, during which the pony, trained for the purpose, threw John, to the infinite amusement of the spectators, several times over his head. A decided advance was made a year or two later, when “ Powell’s Equestrian Troupe” was advertised to . appear. They were a great improvement on Saunders’, inasmuch as there were six or eight horses, several lady riders, a capital clown, and their own band of four musicians, besides the drum. The performances, which lasted three or four days, resembled those just described, and were held in the same field. Attached to these shows there were necessarily two or three rough fellows to look after the horses, fit up and rope the ring, drive the vans, etc. Amongst them was a half-witted man, who, being unsuited for such duties, was left behind and settled at Tiverton, where he gained a precarious livelihood as a loafer. While with the circus he was nicknamed “ Jack Pickaxe,” and by this sobriquet he continued to be known to the day of his death, many years later. A good part of his time was spent either in the workhouse or in the town bridewell. Preference was given by him to the latter, where, although the living was nothing to boast of, little or no hard work was exacted from him. This was not the case at the workhouse, where he Was required to break stones for the streets. As Mr. Pickaxe’s appearances before him became more and more frequent, the mayor resolved to try an experiment on him by padlocking his nether limbs in the stocks, which instrument of torture was placed immediately against the iron railings of -St. George’s Church, but was seldom applied to its intended purpose. a 204. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE Accordingly, one day our hero found himself in durance vile, where he remained for three or four hours, to the intense delight of the boys, who enjoyed the fun of teasing him. Naturally, Mr. Pickaxe’s feelings were of another description, and he was heard to observe that after such a degradation he could never respect himself. In country districts, at least, we occasionally see notices of out-door amusements, in which the attractions include old English sports. It is doubtful, however, whether such events often or ever represent a complete revival of the competitions that formerly took place, and therefore a brief note on the subject may not be unwelcome. Imagine, then, a field engaged for the purpose on an Easter or Whit Monday, and something like the following bill of fare provided for the public, more particularly for the juveniles : “ Foot-race for a Silk Hat.” “Grinning through a Horse-Collar” (no boys to compete). “Basins of Hot Gruel” (for women only, the lady whose basin was first emptied to be the winner). “Running for a smock” (once round the field; also, for women only). . The prizes for these last were about ten or fifteen shillings, the “smock ” being presented in addition to the amount of cash. The crowning event of the day was climbing a greased pole for a leg of mutton. On one occasion futile attempts were made to reach the tempting joint, and for a long time the only results were damaged small-clothes and loss of temper. Just as the sports committee began to think that the affair would end (ey a m HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 205 in a draw, a young fellow named Reeves essayed the task, and succeeded. Coming with his pockets full of gimlets—which he had borrowed from his master, an ironmonger—he deftly screwed in the first, and, resting his foot on it, screwed in two more higher up. Then he ascended step by step, or gimlet by -gimlet, screwing and climbing, till amid the cheers of the crowd he reached and untied the luscious joint. With the cord thus obtained he hung the mutton from his neck, and then accomplished the descent, unscrewing and pocketing the gimlets, while the band—a clarionet, an octave (or piccolo), and a drum—struck up “See the Conquering Hero comes!” It would almost resemble leaving the part of Hamlet out of the play, were we to omit to mention the donkey-race. This came off in splendid style, no less than half a dozen “mokes” contesting for the prize of a sovereign. The race was conducted on what may appear to some a novel principle, for, instead of the prize being given to the fastest animal, it was awarded —on one occasion, at all events—to the donkey which came in last. Nor was this the only peculiarity, since every competitor had to mount the back of a rival’s donkey. The object of each rider, therefore, was to kick and prod his neighbour’s steed, so as to cause, if possible, his own ass to arrive first at the winning- post. The state of the odds and the name of the winner are alike forgotten, but, in view of the importance of the fixture, it may be assumed that large sums changed hands. A lottery on a small scale wound up the pro- ceedings. “Who'll have a ticket? Only sixpence. All prizes and no blanks!” 206 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — Of these lotteries and some other popular amuse- ments of Tiverton in may be said, in the language of the immortal bard, that they were “more honoured — in the breach than in the observance.” The remark is applicable, for instance, to the ceremonies accompany- — ing that grandest festival of the year, “Oak Apple Day,” which, at we shall see, was as punctiliously — observed in the school as in the town, but in a more — becoming and less boisterous manner. Oak Apple — Day is often in or about Whitsuntide, and Whitsunday — itself may actually fall on the twenty-ninth of May. | Formerly, when the two events synchronised, it was : the custom, in decorating churches, to add garlands of oak to the floral tributes that marked the occasion. — Speaking of “Oak Apple Day” as such, we may recall that an Act of Parliament, passed in the twelfth year of King Charles II. and confirmed the following year, appointed the twenty-ninth of May “to be forever kept holy,” in remembrance of “ the Restitution of the King and Royal Family and the Restoration of the Government after many years’ interruption, which unspeakable mercies were wonderfully com- — . pleated” on that day. The “holy day” has, however, — been abolished by the same authority which created - it, though not a few loyalists still dona sprig of oak in hat or buttonhole, and in western villages the cottages are often decorated with boughs of oak. This pretty survival is only a pale reflection of the great doings at Tiverton—if so much, for some of the methods employed to celebrate the occasion were, as we have implied, anything but pretty. Indeed, they were distinctly coarse. The shops in all the principal streets were closed on that day at noon, and HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 207 to every door in every street was tied a branch of oak, testifying that the householder was loyal to the King, or, more precisely, to the memory of a King, for on a rough computation the merry monarch had been dead and buried for a hundred and fifty years. Boys, as well as big youths and spruce shopmen, wore a sprig of oak in a buttonhole or on their hats, which last were bespread for the nonce with gilt. About one o’clock four men in white attire, trimmed with parti-coloured ribbands, started from Lowman Green with a bough of oak formed into a bower, large enough to hold a chair on which a three-year-old could sit, the child also being gaily attired and crowned with flowers, so as to impersonate Charles IJ. The in- dispensable box for the offertory was placed beside him. Two of the men carried the portable bower, while the other two, with drawn swords, guarded the precious contents—boy and cash and all. The duty of the quartette was to sing from door to door the story of Oliver’s crime, the said Oliver being represented by one Joe Rouser, whom a certain Tatey Digger led about with a rope, much as the Finns do dancing bears. Rouser considered that he best performed his réle by wearing a black mask and bearing a bag of greasy dirt and soot suspended from his neck. It is, perhaps, needless to add that, on marching through the town, the guards had all their work cut out to keep off this Mephistophelian creature from soiling the garments of their Royal. charge. On such days there devolved on the boys a respon- sible duty, which they discharged with a proper sense of its importance, and to which they needed no urging. This was to pelt Oliver Cromwell with mud and turf, 208 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE stones being, as was only right, strictly prohibited. The necessity of the early closing of shops was, however, — none the less apparent. As for Oliver, he seems to have had an enjoyable time after all, as his keeper allowed him rope enough to catch the boys, and when — he had liberally smeared their faces with the contents of his bag, he was politely hauled back to resume his assaults on the King. Our informant stated that the streets were always crowded whilst these merry pro- ceedings lasted, and the occasion was regarded as a public holiday much to be enjoyed. He mentioned that — he had seen as many as twenty lads and young men stooping over the gutters and washing their faces, all at the same time. The writer was born much too late to have himself witnessed this remarkable spectacle; and though tra- dition is good where one can obtain nothing better, it necessarily lacks something of the vividness which comes of actually beholding the things that one describes. This, and the exceptional grotesqueness of the May- game, will excuse the insertion of an account by one who came, and saw, and reported his impressions, long after, to the readers of the Lezsure Hour in 1853. “In the year 1810, and of course for many generations previously, the 29th of May was as complete a holiday — in this town as it could ever have been in any part of England since the first year of the Restoration. At early dawn the whole town was awakened by the furious clanging of church bells, and instead of rising to pursue their usual occupations, they had to turn out and sally forth into the neighbouring fields, woods, and hedgerows, where they set to work felling huge branches of oak from the trees, with which the locality <# “ISVE ONIMOOT “PEQT NI ‘NOLUPAIL “LAGYLS AAOI spoay “AT Aq YPossoujy D MOT mi "ga near e Ee — | i se? ¥ see = ai HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 209 abounded, and which [the branches] they brought into the town on their shoulders to decorate the fronts of their houses. Woe to the luckless or drowsy trades- man who by the usual time of opening shop had not metamorphosed his shop-front into a green bower! Oak-apples which had been carefully collected for many days previous were gilded or silvered and worn in the hat or button-hole by all who could procure them. “King Charles was personated by a rosy boy of two or three years of age, dressed in white and decorated with ribbons or flowers, with a crown on his head, and sitting in a compact bower made by interlacing oak-branches, open in front, and carried by two men without coats or waistcoats, their shirt-sleeves and hats decorated with ribbons; on each side were his body- guards, dressed in a similar way and armed with cudgels, with which they would repel the attacks of Cromwell, who ever and anon advanced towards the bower, yelling like a wild beast in search of his prey. “The exhibition usually halted at the houses of those most likely to contribute to the Royal treasury, which ‘was for very good reasons taken charge of by his Majesty in person, a box being placed on the seat beside him for that purpose. The bower, provided with legs, was placed opposite the door or window, and the guards in broad Devonshire dialect struck up a song known by every schoolboy,— It was in the year of forty and wan, When the meddaws an veealds wur all in thur bloom, etc. “The whole town was delivered up to the tender mercies of the mob. It was a day on which ruffianism _ may be said to have:been at a premium, the greatest 14 210 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE ruffan being invariably selected from among a hun- dred or two of candidates to enact the part of Oliver Cromwell. “This historical personage made his appearance upon the stage about eleven o'clock in the day, by which time it was supposed that all unavoidable business might be transacted; and no female dared venture forth after that hour. The appearance of Oliver Crom- well was the general signal for flight wherever he came. Imagine a brawny six-foot man, his face begrimed all over with a mixture of lamp-black and oil, and surmounted by a prodigious shock of hair dripping with grease, the lank locks of which hung dangling over his savage eyes; his body, like that of a prize- fighter, sometimes naked to the waist, round which was tied a bag containing several pounds of the mixture with which his own skin, so far as it was visible, was anointed. This was Oliver Cromwell, and his mission was to catch hold of anybody and everybody that he could overtake, and by forcing their heads into his capacious bag, make them free of the common- wealth if they refused to come down with a ransom, the amount of which he fixed at his own discretion, according to the circumstances of his captive. “ As a fleet and powerful fellow was invariably chosen to play Oliver, it was of course necessary to take measures to prevent him from becoming, in the ex- citement of the chase, too indiscriminate in the bestowal of his favours. As he was pelted by the mob, and plentifully swilled with water, of which there are run- ning streams in most of the streets, it is no wonder that he should lose his temper, and become really savage, after having played the tyrant and the target HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY TOWN 211 for a few hours. By way of restraint, therefore, he was tied round the waist with a stout rope about fifty yards long, the end of which was in charge of his Cabinet Council, consisting of half a dozen congenial spirits, who probably shared his profits, and who, if they chose, could moderate his pace or pull him suddenly up when in pursuit of unlawful prey—such, for instance, as a parish doctor on a visit to a patient, or a magistrate amusing himself with a sight of the popular sport. That they were not very particular in these exceptional cases may be gathered from the fact that we once saw the Reverend Caleb Colton, the author of Lacon and The Sampford Ghost, who was a clergyman of Tiverton and perfectly well known to every individual in the town, made captive by Oliver. The reverend gentleman suffered hideously from the grasp of the Protector, and only escaped a dive into the grease-bag by the prompt payment of a guinea. “Tt is not easy to imagine all the circumstances presented by this unique and disgraceful spectacle ; the uproar and tumult which swarmed round Oliver wherever he went—the panic which seized the pursuing multitude when he turned and pursued them—the insane yells and cries of encouragement when he had caught some unlucky or obnoxious individual—and, above all, the hideous appearance of the wretch himself, when worn out with the toils of his disgusting occupation, and savage with the jeers and injuries of the mob. Between the green boughs which covered every house front, the windows were filled with spectators, among whom women and children looked on in safety upon a spectacle little calculated to inculcate the sociai or domestic virtues. 212 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE “In our time Oliver held undisputed possession of the town until five o'clock in the afternoon, when his reign was at an end, and he was led off to retire- ment to count and enjoy, if he could, the fruits of his labours. After he disappeared the more respect- able inhabitants were at liberty to come forth from. their dwellings. “On the transportation of Rouser, who had been the rough representative of Cromwell for so many years, the whole drama languished. Some feeble at- tempts were made to revive it, but the taste of the populace for such. sports was on the decline; and a few indiscreet applications of ‘smut’ brought magis- terial authority to bear upon ‘Old Oliver,’ who, together with the Royal Charles, has altogether disappeared © from these realms. “It may seem surprising at the first glance that a custom so silly and puerile in its origin, and so hateful and immoral in its operation, should have survived in all its completeness through five or six generations, and lasted until our own day, but the force of precedent will keep alive even greater abuses.” Such, then, were the good old days that our fore- bears mention regretfully, comparing them with these degenerate times when men are fenced about with rules of law and order. What a pity that an over- zealous justice of the peace should have exerted his authority for the purpose of getting this public holiday suppressed ! CHAPTER X MORE ABOUT TIVERTON MONG the quaint customs that formerly prevailed in the country was the Christmas play. At Tiverton the “mumming chaps,” who eked out their number with “Blue” boys, made the round of the great houses in the town and neighbourhood, and, when that had been completed, visited the more important farms. Everywhere they were received with favour, had plenty to eat and drink, and when they took their departure their somewhat crude performances were rewarded with proper gratuities. Mrs. Ewing’s Peace Egg (published by the S.P.C.K.) is composed of a hash of several traditional Christmas plays—TZhe Peace Egg, The Wassail Cup, Alexander the Great, A Mock Play, and The Silverton Mummers Play, all of which appear to have contained common elements, otherwise such a process were much to be deplored. Even as it is we would rather have had the separate versions than the resultant “compilation.” We have never seen the Silverton play, and know nothing more of it than we gathered from Mrs. Ewing’s introduction. As Silverton is only seven miles distant from Tiverton, and reckoned well within its zone, we may be permitted to quote her remarks on the subject : 213 214 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE “The Silverton version is an extreme example of the continuous development of these unwritten dramas. Generation after generation, the most incongruous char- acters have been added. In some cases this is very striking testimony to the strength of rural sympathy with the great deeds and heroes of the time, as well as to native talent for dramatic composition. “Wellington and Wolfe almost eclipsed St. George in some parts of England, and the sea-heroes are naturally popular in Devonshire. The death of Nelson in the Silverton play has fine dramatic touches. Though he ‘has but one arm and a good one too, he essays to fight—whether Tippo Sahib or St. George is not made clear. He falls, and St. George calls for the Doctor in the usual words. The Doctor ends his peculiar harangue with ‘ Britons! our Nelson is dead.’ To which a voice, which seems to play the part of Greek chorus, responds—‘ But he is not with the dead, but in the arms of the living God!’ Then, enter Collingwood— Collingwood : Here comes I, bold Collingwood, Who fought the French and boldly stood ; And now the life of that bold Briton’s gone, [ll put the crown of victory on,—- with which ‘he takes the crown off Nelson’s head and puts it on his own.’” It has been our good fortune to obtain temporary possession of a manuscript copy of an old Tiverton play, the subject being AJlerander and the King of Egypt. The age of the MS., which can be roughly dated, proves it to have been written about the time when the late Archbishop was a schoolboy at Tiverton, at which period these Christmas plays were still in their zenith. : | MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 215 We propose to print it 7 extenso—a proceeding for which, in a volume like the present, no excuse is needed, but it may be stated that considerable difficulty is ex- perienced in getting hold of connected versions of these popular effusions. ALEXANDER AND THE KING OF EGYPT ACT ft. Scene I, Enter ALEXANDER, SILENCE, brave gentlemen, if you will give an eye, Alexander is my name, I'll sing a tragedy. A ramble here I took, the country for to see; Three actors I have brought so far from Italy. The first I do present—he is a noble king; He’s just come from the wars, good tidings he doth bring. The next that doth come in he is a doctor good, Had it not been for him, I’d surely lost my blood. Old Dives is the next, a miser you may see, Who by lending of his gold is come to poverty. So, gentlemen, you see, our actors will go round, Stand off a little while, more pastime will be found. Scene II. Enter ACTORS. Room, room, brave gallants, give us room to sport, For in this room we wish for to resort; For, remember, good sirs, this is Christmas time. The time to cut up goose-pies now doth appear, So we are come to act our merry Christmas here. At the sound of the trump and beat of the drum, Make room, brave gentlemen, and let our actors come. We are the merry actors that traverse the street, We are the merry actors that fight for our meat, We are the merry actors that show pleasant play; Step in, thou King of Egypt, and clear the way. 216 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE King of Egypt: 1 am the King of Egypt, as plainly doth appear, And Prince George, he is my only son and heir, Step in, therefore, my son, and act thy part with me, And show forth thy fame before the company. Prince George: 1 am Prince George, a champion brave and bold, For with my spear I’ve won three crowns of gold ; *Twas I that brought the dragon to the slaughter, And I that gained the Egyptian monarch’s daughter. In Egypt’s field I prisoner long was kept, But by my valour I from them escap’d. I sounded loud at the gate of a divine, And out came a giant of no good design ; He gave me a blow which almost struck me dead, But I up with my sword and cut off my head. Alexander: Hold, slacker, hold! pray, do not be so hot, For in this spot thou know’st not whom thou’st got; Tis I that’s to hash thee, and smash thee, as small as flies, And send thee to Satan to make mince pies. Mince pies hot, mince pies cold, I'll send thee to Satan ere thouw’rt three days old. But hold, Prince George, before you go away, Either you or I must die this bloody day; Some mortal wounds thou shalt receive by me, So let us fight it out most manfully. ACT II. ScENngE I. ALEXANDER a”d PRINCE GEorGE fight. The latter is wounded and falls. King of Egypt: Curst Christian, what is this that thou hast done? Thou hast ruin’d me by killing my best son. Alex; He gave me a challenge, why should I him deny? How high he was, but see, how low he lies! K. of Egypt: O Sambo, Sambo, help me now, For I was never more in need For thee to stand with sword in hand, And to fight at my command. Doctor: Yes, my liege, 1 will thee obey, And, by my sword, I hope to win the day. : . Sen MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 217 Yonder stands he, who has kill’d my master’s son, And has his ruin thoughtlessly begun. I'll try if he be sprung from Royal blood And through his body make an ocean flood. Gentlemen, you see my sword’s point is broke, Or else I’d run it through that villain’s throat. K. of Egypt: is there never a doctor to be found, That can cure my son of his deadly wound? Doctor : Yes, there is a doctor to be found, That can cure your son of his deadly wound. K. of Egypt: What diseases can he cure ? Doctor : 1 can cure the itch, the palsy and gout, If the Devil’s in him, I'll pull him out. In fact, there is nothing but what I can master And [ll cure your brave son’s fatal disaster. ScENE II. PRINCE GEORGE a7ises, Prince George: O horrible! terrible! The like was never seen— A man drove out of seven senses into fifteen, And out of fifteen into fourscore ; O horrible! terrible! the like was ne’er before. Alexander : Thou silly ass, that liv’st on grass, Dost thou abuse a stranger ? I live in hopes to buy new ropes, And tie thy nose to a manger. P. George: Sir, unto you I bend. Alex. : Stand off, thou slave! I think thee not my friend. P. George: A Slave! sir, that’s for me by far too base a name. That word deserves to stab thine honour’s fame. Alex,: To be stab’d, sir, is least of all my care. Appoint your time and place—I’ll meet you there. P. George: V\l cross the water at the hour of five. Alex.: Vll meet you there, sir, if I be alive. P. George: But stop, sir, Vl wish you a wife both lusty and young ; Can talk Dutch, French, and the Italian tongue. Alex.: Yl have none such, P. George: Why, don’t you love learning ? 218 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE Alex, : Yes, I love my learning as I love my life, I love a learned scholar, but not a learned wife. Stand off, thou dirty dog, or by my sword thou'lt die, Ill make thy body full of holes, and cause thy buttons to fly. K. of Egypt: Sir, to express thy beauty Pm not able, For thy face shines like the very kitchen table, Thy teeth are as white as the charcoal ‘neath the grate, Stand off, or else you'll feel this sword upon your poor bare pate. Alex, : Stand off, thou dirty dog, or by my sword thou'lt die, I'll make thy body full of holes, and cause thy buttons to fly. ScENE III. The Kine or Ecypt fights and is killed. Enter PRINCE GEORGE. P. George: Oh, what is here? Oh, what is to be done ? Our King is slain, the crown is likewise gone. Take up his body, bear it hence away, For in this place no longer shall it stay. THE CONCLUSION. Bouncer Buckler, velvet’s dear, And Christmas comes but once a year, Though when it comes it brings good cheer. But farewell, Christmas, once a year; Farewell, farewell, adieu, friendship and unity, I hope we have made sport, and pleased the company. But, gentlemen, you see, we're but actors four; We've done our best, and the best can do no more. Besides these amateur exhibitions Tiverton had its regular theatre, which was a popular institution and patronised by the townspeople both small and great. We were recently informed that a Mrs. Pell, the wife or widow of Colonel Pell, was in the habit of attending every night, until her presence in the stalls began to be looked upon as part of the nature of aa MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 219 things. Moreover, there resided at “ Rix,” a country- house in the parish, one Major Johnson, an eccentric gentleman, whose society was much courted by persons of a convivial disposition, and whose taste and early habits led him to evince a great fondness for the drama. Consequently, on each visit of Mr. Davis and his company, the majors box at the theatre found him invariably present. His manners and brogue sufficiently proclaimed his nationality, and he often consented to appear as a singer of Irish comic ballads in character. The announcement on the bills that “after the first piece Major Johnson will kindly sing a comic song,” always helped to fill the house, and when, after an encore, he gave a second song, the applause, from the gallery especially, was tremend- ous. When, for instance, he chose an Irish love-song, beginning— Och, Judy, dear crathur, she’s won all my soul, The sight of her eyes put my heart in a filliloo, he brought down the house. A great feature in the management was the engage- ment for a night or two of a “star” actor or actress from one of the London theatres. During the close season these were generally willing to accept engage- ments on easy terms, thus adding materially to their income. On one occasion a Miss Love, of Covent Garden fame, was thus introduced as a singer and danseuse, and seldom had Tiverton witnessed such dancing, or heard such delightful melody as she dis- coursed. Unfortunately, this siren had one failing— too great an attachment to stimulants. Unless care- fully watched by a friend, who always accompanied 220 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE her in the provinces, she would indulge this weakness while in her dressing-room, previous to being called on. On the occasion of her Tiverton engagement — she had executed a dance styled on the bills a “Pas de Trois and Cressy Waltz” in a manner that en- tranced her audience, and had retired below to her dressing-room, where she refreshed herself after her great exertions with a large quantity of brandy. When she was called up for a vocal effort she walked with difficulty, but as soon as the band had played a few bars, she commenced her song the burden of which was an indictment against the male sex for their reluctance to “pop the question.” In each verse she reproached the marriageable youth for their neglect . of this duty, and stamping her dainty foot on the stage, while she pointed with her arm to the boxes, would say or sing, “Why don’t the men propose?” During the song she had to keep moving a step or two to the right and the left, or backwards, for in her state to stand still was difficult. Her task for the night being thus ended, her sedan chair took her to her lodgings. We must not forget that one infatuated youth took the hint and actually went the length of proposing, but, being ineligible from Miss Love’s pale of view, was summarily rejected. At this time the manager was fortunate in having an excellent “villain.” In all provincial and “ strolling” companies the actor who went by this name was an important, and indeed indispensable, element, for he had to personate all the disreputable characters from tyrant kings to bandits and murderers. He was required to be an adept in the use of the sword and, when slain, to fall gracefully, so as not to allow his legs to — ———— MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 221 appear when the curtain was rung down. Such an one was Mr. Kent, who possessed the further ad- vantages of a dark, forbidding countenance, grisly black hair and beard, and the voice of a Stentor. It was really fetching, we are told, to see him at- tempt to carry off the heroine. Just at the right moment he was confronted by her lover, the young officer, who shouted “Hold, villain—draw!” and the next moment ran him beautifully through the body. An old Tiverton resident, from whom we have obtained these particulars, once had an opportunity of seeing this “villain” in a part for which he was pre-eminently fitted—viz., that of Mephistopheles in the play of Faustus. From time to time, in his dilemmas, the deluded victim of Satanic influence would shout the name of his “familiar,’ when in an instant Mephistopheles would come to his side as his guide, philosopher, and friend. By way of adding to the impressiveness of the piece, thunder and lightning would be produced—the former by means of large sheets of iron held by the corners behind the scenes and violently shaken, and the latter by a mixture of gunpowder and saltpetre being blown through a long tube like a coach-guard’s horn against a light. The position of the apparatus was at the side of the stage, and nothing could be seen but the flash, which last was extremely vivid, the tube being pointed towards the actors. Among the members of the company at one time were a Mr. and Mrs. Wingrove, who were said to have PPe-= "9 taken to the stage not from necessity, but by choice, having previously occupied a good position in society. 222 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE Both would appear in comedy or farce, but their forte — was singing, and they gave nightly performances, some- times as soloists, and occasionally in a duet. One of these duets—a special favourite with the audience, who insisted on “encore verses”—was named “ Mr. and Mrs. John Prevo.” It consisted of a mimic lovers’ quarrel, in which each of the parties accused the other of naughty tricks, and which ended in a reconciliation and the lady falling into her husband’s arms. The method of the duet was simple—first the gentleman sang a verse hinting a fault, and his angry spouse retorted in the next. She was especially indignant when in one of the verses her husband thus taunted her. With that gossip, Mrs. Jones, How you rattle o’er the stones! Why, you don’t spare my horses, Mrs. John Prevo! During the song, roars of laughter were caused by the lady weeping so copiously as to require a dry handker- chief. This she supplied from her pocket; at the same time she took the one ostensibly tear-wetted to the foot- lights, and deliberately wrung it over the head of the old bass-viol player. Then spreading it on the back of a chair, she would go on with her alternate accusation and defence. With regard to solos there lies before us a manu- script copy of the words, but not the music, of “ Mr. Paul Pry’s Song,” intended to have been sung on New Year’s Eve. It is as follows: (Pryingly) 1 hope I don’t intrude (Fearfully) 1 thought I heard a cough. (Apologetically) 1 hope I am not rude. (Confidentially) 1 say—the year’s going of. NS ee MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 223 (nquisitively) Where can he be going to? (Ruminatively) It’s very odd !—it’s serious / (Self-satisfactively) 'm rather knowing too! - (nsinuatively) But isn’t it mysterious ? (Comfortably) ’Twas better than the other— (informingly) The one that went before ; (Consolingly) But then there'll be axother, (Delighiedly) Aud that’s one comfort more. (Alarmedly) Vm half afraid he’s gone / (Kindlily) Must part with the old fellow ? (Hastily) Excuse me—I must run—(e27#) (Returns) Forgot my umbrella. (Determinedly) Vll watch the new one though, (Circumspectly) And see what hell be at—(exit) (Returns) Beg pardon—didn’t bow (dows ; exit) (Returns) Beg pardon—left my hat. (Lingeringly) It’s always the wish of Paul (Seriously) To be guite correct and right; (Respectfully) Ladies and gentlemen all— (Retreatingly) 1 wish you a very good-night (Recollectively) And, ladies and gentlemen all, (nterjectively) You laugh so much, I declare— (Vexedly) Ym not Mr. Liston!—I’m Paul! (Zastly) I wish you a Happy New Year! (Exit finally). Not far from the theatre was the old post-office, which was also not without an element of interest. Seventy years ago, in the coaching days, the postage of a letter from Bristol was eightpence. The four-horse mail-coach, plying eastward and westward daily on the country road, stopped to change horses at the Halfway _ House, Willand, so named because it was equidistant from Exeter and Taunton. To this inn the mail-bags were brought out from Tiverton, and there others were 224 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — received for the town. The postman was armed and rode on a good saddle-horse. Twice a day he repaired to the old post-office in St. Peter Street, and receiving - the leathern bags from the postmaster or postmistress, threw them across the saddle. He also carried two pouches, one containing a large brass-barrelled pistol, and the other a brass horn, in length about three feet. With the first instrument he defied all comers, and with the latter he announced his return from the time he — reached Lowman Bridge until he arrived at the post- — office. The beautiful parish church, dedicated to St. Peter, has undergone many alterations, not all of them im- provements, but the sixteenth century porch and chapel, erected by John Greenway, a Tiverton merchant, and literally covered with all manner of quaint symbols, remain externally untouched, except, alas! by the rude hand of Time. As regards the interior, the fine old screen, which extended right across the church im- mediately in front of the chancel and served as a gallery for the “ Blue” boys and girls, has vanished, as has also the dismal “ Latin School Gallery,” built over the main entrance at the west end of the south aisle, where many generations of Blundellians were instructed, Sunday after Sunday, in the practice of piety. There is—or was until lately—at Holcombe Court a magnifi- cent relic of old St. Peter’s, on which young Frederick Temple and his contemporaries must often have gazed with wonder and admiration—viz.,a huge candelabrum which for a very long period adorned the middle aisle, and whose elaborate design earned for the church, then in a somewhat ruinous condition, a wide reputation in the west. The gift of Mr. Nathaniel Thorne, churchwarden MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 225 in 1707, who appears to have spared no expense on it, the candelabrum was suspended from a large gilt rose, three feet in diameter, a ring being inserted in the centre. In the ornamental ironwork, a few feet below, was a brass halo, from which projected brass rods of various lengths and shapes, the gilt tips being contorted most curiously. Farther down was a great gilt diadem, the inside of which presented the appear- ance of the customary purple velvet lining. Beneath this were the letters “G. R.,” each about three feet across, and evidently the initials of Queen Anne’s successor and the lawful owner of Britain’s diadem. Farther down yet was a large silver-gilt dove, with an olive-branch in her mouth; and the next insignia, in order of descent, consisted of a wreath representing the rose, thistle and shamrock intertwined, the colours being thrown out in relief by the purple decoration within. The candelabrum proper was composed of four tiers of brass candlesticks, each projecting beyond the next above, and numbering ten, twenty, thirty, forty receptacles for candles. The lowest rank of brass rods must have extended two or three feet over each side of the middle aisle as it is now. All the spaces between the branch rods were filled with brasswork in imitation of rosettes, the bottom rank being larger than the top. The lowest pendant was a great brass sphere bearing the date of the presentation and the names of the then rectors and churchwardens. Yes, rectors—plural, for the spiritual oversight of Tiverton was vested in the incumbents of four livings, whose duties consisted in little more than delivering four sermons in as many weeks, or, in other words in getting through a fortnight’s work in a month 15 226 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE The rectors—one, however, was a “ perpetual curate”— sometimes deemed even this too great a strain on their constitutions, and availed themselves of the services of one or other of the masters of Blundell’s School. The Rev. Dr. Boulton, for instance, was frequently applied to, and, when asked, readily con- sented to act as /ocum tenens for a brother-clergyman. Once upon a time four parsons preached in succession from St. Peter’s pulpit, and the initials of their surnames, Gilbert, Williams, Spurway, and Pye, were read as an instruction to “ go when Spurway, preaches.” Spurway, who was rector of “Pitt Portion” from 1821 to 1874, sometimes startled his congregation by his very pointed sermons. One Sunday his subject was dishonesty in business, and the next morning a tradesman, who had amassed a small fortune, called on him and com- plained of being preached at. Spurway’s response was to the effect that if the cap fitted his parishioner had better wear it. A gentleman whom Temple may have known very well—he was an uncle of one of his friends—was some- what deaf, an infirmity which led him to desire a seat near the reading desk. His wife suggested to an old woman that, in return for a consideration, she should relinquish a seat in the old gentleman’s favour, when she received the unexpected reply, “No, not 1; my — soul’s so dear to me as ever Squire’s is to he. I bain’t — gwain to gie up my seat.” We may add that one of Dr. Temple’s last acts as — Bishop of Exeter was to secure the passage of a bill abolishing the system of four independent, and yet not independent, rectors, whose main preoccupation — was to avoid friction. The new arrangements were By Nia? MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 227 based on the principle Divide et impera, and, we believe, have worked well from a pastoral point of view, though the parishes in possession of the less gifted orators may perhaps sigh for the ancient régzme, when the local Chrysostom rotated from sanctuary to sanctuary, and gratified the stationary pew-holders with his well- turned periods and eloquent delivery. In 1835 Tiverton acquired as its member of Parliament Lord Palmerston, even then a politician and statesman of the greatest eminence, and destined, ere death terminated the connection thirty years later, to attain the high position of Prime Minister. Although an Irishman, he is remembered as a typical exponent of what we will venture to call the John Bull style of diplomacy, and in his last days was revered by all parties as a true patriot, who had raised England to the pinnacle of glory. In Temple’s youth Palmerston was regarded, very differently, as a dangerous oppor- tunist, who had turned Whig and helped to pass the Reform Bill, the Poor Law, and other uncalled-for and un-Christian measures ; and although in 1835 he had slipped into the representation of Tiverton unopposed, it was felt by the faithful Tories that they could not, without injury to their reputation, allow this performance to be repeated, and at the general election of 1837 Lord Palmerston had to fight for his seat. Now the Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, and others of the Tory leaders had been guilty, equally with Lord Palmerston, of supporting the new workhouse legislation —which was awkward. Nevertheless, the old-fashioned Conservatives—or may they not have been the smart party-agents ?—deemed this their best card, which they played accordingly. Here is one of their bills, which 228 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE the Blundellians of the day may have perused with sympathetic interest. STOP AND READ HONEST POVERTY Under a Whig Administration is become a sin; It parts MAN and WIFE, PARENTS and CHILDREN, With a lingering Starvation and Perpetual Imprisonment, READ YOUR WEEK’S FARE!!! Six Pounds, Two Ounces of Bread, Fifteen Ounces of Butcher's Meat, Seven Pounds of Potatoes, Ten Ounces of Pudding, N.B.—The Pudding made with PORK WATER 7” some Unions!!! Eight Pints azd a Quarter of Soup. Five Pints of Broth, Ten Pints and a Half of GRUEL!!! Now, you able-bodied Men, go to the Peer, and thank his Lordship for his extraordinary attention to your Comforts!!! An immense quantity of this sort of literature was circulated, and amongst the pamphleteers was a certain “ Junius,” who was suspected to be none other than Dr. Anthony Boulton. Whether the suspicion was just we cannot say, but one of “ Junius’s” productions bears all the marks of having been written by a clergyman. For instance, in speaking of the “aged, sick and un- fortunate poor,” he complains that they have been “deprived of the religious right of worshipping God in the churches of their forefathers,” and declares that : : i : MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 229 under the Act “the face of the poor is wickedly ground down,” which may be described perhaps as an argument from Scripture. Whatever the truth may have been, the Reformers got it into their heads that Dr. Boulton was the man, and they retaliated as only heated poli- ticians do or can, taunting him with his weak sight, which compelled him to wear goggles, and calling him “the green-eyed monster.” Nor, of course, did they miss the opportunity afforded by Dr. Boulton’s pro- fessional duties, and especially the dreaded function wherein he flourished his birch and administered to the trembling culprit pezne forte et dure. To this elegant satire, as we shall see, the customs of the school lent not less than ordinary point. Although Palmerston was received on this and subsequent occasions with anything but cordiality by the authorities, his relations with the school afterwards improved, and whenever his lordship visited the town the boys had a holiday. Needless to say, they loved him for that. Mr. Clement Waldron, some years ago, referred to a time in his schooldays when for some delinquency he was condemned to an imposition, and had to write a set of Latin verses on Andromeda. Now Waldron hated Andromeda and Perseus and everything belonging to them, because, though it might seem easy, he could not get Andromeda into a hexameter verse. He was in this dilemma when two gentlemen in white beaver hats came into the school, and asked what he was trying to do. He explained, and one of them said to the other, “ Acland, write the boy’s verses.” The gentleman addressed took paper and pencil, and obligingly wrote the verses. The two visitors were Lord Palmerston and Sir Thomas Acland, who, having 230 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE taken a “double first” at Oxford, was no doubt better — able to assist than his distinguished friend. ; Then there is the evidence of the MS. Register, which shows that Palmerston had every desire to be on good terms with his political opponents, as the masters invariably were. The evidence consists of a letter and an old “dinner ticket.” Inserted in the register are two of these tickets, one of which bears the inscription : “This engraving by Hogarth was presented by the Rev. W. Toms, of South Molton, to the Rev. Aldersey Dicken, Master of the School, and by him fixed in this book, Jan. 19th, 1825.” The other, which is inscribed “Ticket for School Feast 1840,” differs slightly from its companion, in that it displays, in addition to Hogarth’s name, that of “ T. Cook,” the engraver, and the imprint, “ Published by Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, Oct. Ist, 1809.” With the latter example is inserted the following letter from Lord Palmerston to Francis Hole, Esq. Abril 8th, 1859. My Dear HOL_e, I send you the enclosed as suggested by the writer of the note. Perhaps you will give the Ticket to the Master of the School. Yours sincerely — PALMERSTON, These incidents betoken a peaceful, and even friendly, state of things, but in Temple’s time matters, as we have seen, were far otherwise. Echoes of the strife out of doors penetrated into the halls of learning, and the masters were betrayed into little abuses of their authority. Temple himself testified to their unfairness. “T can remember,” he said, “in the history of Blundell’s MORE ABOUT TIVERTON 231 School how in former days we took our part, like boys, in the politics of the time. Some of us were Tories and some Liberals, as the case might be. I can remember when feelings were rather hot upon the matter, and sometimes things occurred which would not be so willingly allowed now. I can remember—being, as I was, a very hot Tory—that my master, a certain Mr. Evans, put me at the head of my class, because I was a Tory. Well, I then thought this was an exceedingly righteous act on his part, whatever I feel about it now. But although I remember a great difference of opinion in those days, I do not remember any time at which Blundellians would not join in expression of the most thorough loyalty to the Queen of this country.” CHAPTER XI THE REIGN OF “SAS” HEN Temple was entered at Blundell’s his teachers were principally two—Dr. Dicken, the upper master, who had succeeded the terrible Richards in 1823, and Dr. Boulton, the lower master. The former, who bore the very unusual Christian name of Aldersey, was the eldest son of a clergyman holding the neighbouring living of Witheridge, and educated at Blundell’s, where he obtained one of the Sidney Sussex exhibitions. At Cambridge he became fellow and tutor of Peterhouse, and was the author of the Seatonian prize poem in 1818. As he had already won the speaking medal and the medal for verse composition at Blundell’s, it is fair to assume that in achieving this distinction the training he had received in his old school was of especial advantage to him; and that, when he returned as headmaster, it was with a strengthened belief in the value of the traditions in which he had been steeped. Dr. Dicken, however, was possessed by no narrow spirit of academic conservatism ; and, in the course of his headmastership, made himself responsible for an innovation which was certainly not without effect on Temple’s career. We allude to his introduction 232 J of mathematics as a subject of study in the school. This was a fortunate step, for otherwise it is cer- tain Temple would never have gained his double first. It is recorded of Dr. Dicken that he was most patient and encouraging in his treatment of pupils less pro- mising than their fellows. This feature in his character was highly honourable to him, but does not appear to have much bearing on our immediate subject, as Temple raced through the lower school in about half a year. His friend, Tom Clarke, was not in such a hurry. “I was never much good at work,” he says. “Why, there was a visiting master, who came once a week to teach mathematics. Every week I showed him one sum. It was always the same—a rule of three, which I knew by heart.” Possessing as he did so many good qualities, one is not surprised that Dr. Dicken won golden opinions. The following statement, taken from a Devonshire paper published on July 6th, 1833; will show what was thought of him. “It is acknowledged on all hands that an instructor more amiable or kind-hearted, united with such extensive and varied learning and indefatigable research, has never presided over this noble establishment.” However, Temple was not to enjoy the benefit of his headship long. Having taken his D.D. in 1831, he was presented by his college to the rectory of Norton, Suffolk, and left Tiverton at Midsummer, 1834, in order to devote himself to his pastoral duties. Before he finally quitted the neighbourhood, his old pupils subscribed together and presented him with a piece of plate bearing the following inscrip- THE REIGN OF “SAS” 233 234 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — tion, surmounted by Dr. Dicken’s coat-of-arms and motto : ALDERSEY DICKEN, S. T. P. HOC UBI PLURIMA DEBENTUR MUNUSCULUM QUODQUE INDICET QUAM DECLARET SUMMA EJUS IN SE MERITA AFFERENDUM CONSENSERUNT DISCIPULI. A.D. M,DCCC,XXXIV. On what was long esteemed a memorable day, the donors and others assembled on the school green, and the senior head boy, to whose lot it fell to make the presentation, was the Rev. Edward Arthur Dayman, of whom we shall hear again. Amongst the spectators was the new headmaster, the Rev. Henry Sanders. .Dr. Dicken was not often seen in Tiverton after this, but it is evident from the congratulations which he always sent to the Old Boys at their annual gatherings that the school had ever a warm place in his affections. He died at Bournemouth in January, 1879, at the age of eighty-four. We remarked above that Dr. Dicken was, naturally, steeped in the traditions of the school; and although he has left behind the reputation of being not only a man of learning, but an amiable Christian gentleman, it is worthy of note that he upheld, or at any rate, did not seek to suppress, one of the most distinctive and firmly rooted customs of the place—namely, the habit the boys had of settling their differences in the ring. Mr. Clarke affirms that he has often seen Dr. Dicken pass when a fight was in progress, and THE REIGN OF “SAS” 235 look away in order that he might seem not to have observed it. The lower master, Dr. Boulton, was gifted with a similar short-sightedness, so that when he met a boy out of bounds he appeared not to notice him. In his case, however, as he had some trouble with his eyes, the lack of discernment may have been accidental. The Doctor was irreverently but somewhat lovingly termed by the boys of that day “Tony Boulton.” An older man than Dicken, he was a martyr to the gout, and this affliction forced on him an occasional retirement from duty. As soon as he became con- valescent his class was conducted into his dining-room, where the admiration of the boys was excited by a set of magnificent chessmen, which were arranged on the sideboard. Dr. Boulton was the author of a queer little cardboard catechism containing questions and answers (¢.g., “ Who was Tubal Cain? ”), and in use at “the block.” The master with whom Temple had most to do at Blundell’s, and with whom also he was clesely associated in after life. was the Rev. Henry Sanders, who, he said, possessed the wonderful gift of reaching one’s - very soul. Mr. Sanders was educated at Christ Church, Oxford, and amongst his college acquaintances was the “good” Earl of Devon, afterwards chairman of the governors of Blundell’s School. He was a most amiable man, and his memory is cherished not only on account of his connection with the great Archbishop, but quite as much for his personal qualities, which gained him the esteem of his brother-clergy and many lay friends. Canon Dayman, an Old Blundellian, but not a pupil of Sanders, in the course of a sermon on St. Peter’s 236 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE day, 1888, referred to him in the following terms: “T had many opportunities of seeing and knowing him, and he always impressed me with the belief that he was a man of energetic character with a strong sense of duty and a very kind heart. Of this last quality I will venture to give an instance. Some years ago he told me that a common friend of ours was danger- ously ill, and I found he had been extremely kind to him, visited him, and done all that could be done for him until his death. Our friend, whom I too was able to see before his death, was a class-fellow with me at Blundell’s, and had been a curate at Tiverton. His name,/ I doubt not, will arise to the recollection of many.” At Blundell’s Mr. Sanders was known as “ Sas,” and in his domestic economy, as well as in the general school arrangements, followed the traditional lines. The beds were unlike any that most of the boarders had ever seen, or were yet to see. They were box- beds, and so constructed that all the bedding could be put into the box, and the bedsteads folded up into it. It is not thought that they were ever thus used, but the boys found a very good use for the boxes. Lights were, of course, put out at a certain time, and then, if a boy wanted to read a book, he would hang his counterpane over the front of the box and light his candle, which was impaled on a stick fixed into the side of the box. Occasionally “Sas” would make a round of the bed-rooms, and catch a boy with a light ; and sometimes a boy would go to sleep, and the box and counterpane would be set on fire. But 1 Mr. Dayman alluded to the Rev. W. C. Salter, late Fellow and Tutor of Balliol, and Principal of St. Alban’s Hall, Oxford. ee ee ee eee a From the painting by Arthur Hacker. ~ Photo by H. Hippisley, Tiverton. VEN. ARCHDEACON SANDERS. US THE REIGN OF “SAS” 237 it made no difference ; after a short time the practice began again. In the winter the boys got up at half-past six by candle-light, and went into the school at seven. There were three calls-over—at 7, 7.5, and 7.15. The two first were called by a “lie-abed,” with no master or monitor present ; the third was called by a monitor, and at that “Sas” was present, with all the monitors. The monitors took it in turn by weeks to call over, and none of them came into the school till 7.15, when “Sas” entered. Each monitor had a small boy to call over for him at 7 and 7.5, and this boy had the privilege of lying in bed for an extra quarter of an hour during the weeks in which he was off duty; hence his title of “lie-abed.” Ifa boy failed to answer adsum, he was fined a penny, twopence, or threepence according as he was absent at the first, second, or third call-over. The fines were deducted from the “pays” on Saturday; and if the culprit had not suffi- cient to pay, “non-sol.” was put after his name, and the fine was taken out bya short and painful process. At nine the boys went into the hall for breakfast. The position of the day boys, in this respect, is thus described by Mr. T. Clarke: “School began at seven in the morning. The roll was then called, and if you were late you were fined a penny. I never remember Temple being late, but my bill was usually sixpence a week. Afternoon school ended at five, and in the winter it was so dark that we used to play ‘hunt the hare’ behind the master’s chair. Once Dr. Boulton called me up, but I had been playing ‘ pigs- driven-to-market, and was chained to the desk by the legs. I got four cuts on each hand for that.” 238 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE — So far we have given no strict account of the interior — of the school, which was sufficiently impressive. It consisted of two long rooms, the upper and lower — school, with an open roof, and divided by a passage with a double screen, the higher part of which was of © open work. Over the entrance to each school was carved in either oak or chestnut, “P 1604 B”; and above the passage was a gallery leading to a room over the porch. The walls were wainscoted up to the sills — of the mullioned windows, and two rows of seats or blocks, one higher than the other, ran round the rooms. These were divided into six sets for six classes—monitors, third form, upper and lower second, and upper and lower first. All the wood-work of the roof and blocks was extremely massive, and, as has been already in- dicated, there was the tradition that the timber was Spanish chestnut from the wreck of the Armada. Not only were the panels covered with the names of former boys, but large pieces had been sawn off the blocks to be turned into snuff-boxes, which might serve as memorials of the school. All the blocks, except those below the monitors and third form, had desks in front of them, these last two blocks being unused save on the awful occasion of a flogging. Then “Sas” called out, “Bring me a birch!” The junior of the third form left the school, went down to the porter’s lodge, received a birch from “Cop,” and brought it to “ Sas,” having first carefully beaten it against the walls to knock off any obnoxious buds, which might render it too painful. Mention of desks reminds us of the making of “ winkeys,” so graphically described by Blackmore. “This is the manner of a ‘winkey, which I have set | . . EE SS. Ee oN THE REIGN OF “SAS” 239 “down lest child of mine, or grandchild, dare to make one on my premises; if he does, I shall know the mark at once, and score it well upon him. The scholar obtains, by prayer or price, a handful of saltpeter, and then with the knife, wherewith he should be trying rather to mend his pens, what does he do but scoop a hole where the desk is some three inches thick. This hole should be left with the middle exalted, and the circumfere dug more deeply. Then let him fill it with saltpeter, all save a little space in the midst, where the boss of the wood is. Upon that boss (and it will be the better if a splinter of timber rise upward) he sticks the end of his candle of tallow or ‘rat’s tail,’ as we called it, kindled and burning smoothly. Anon, as he reads by that light his lesson, lifting his eyes now and then, it may be, the fire of the candle lays hold of the peter with a spluttering noise and a leaping. Then should the pupil seize his pen, and, regardless of the nib, stir bravely, and he will see a glow as of burning mountains, and a rich smoke, and sparks going merrily ; nor will it cease, if he stir wisely, and there be good store of peter, until the wood be devoured through, like the sinking of a well-shaft. Now well may it go with the head of a boy intent on his primer, who betides to sit thereunder! But above all things, have good care to exercise this art before the master strides up to his desk, in the early grey of the morning.” Under Mr. Sanders’ rule the making of “winkeys” appears to have been disused, for a few years after Blackmore left, and before the great débdcle, it had be- come a tradition known only by the holes in the desks. “Winkeys,’ however, were not the only injury to 240 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE which the desks, and many other parts of the establish- ment, were subject. In the same chapter of Lorna Doone we read: “ But if you doubt of my having been there, because now I know so little, go and see my name ‘John Ridd’ graven on that very form. Forsooth, from the time I was strong enough to open a knife, and to spell my name, I began to grave it in the oak, first of the block whereon I sat, and then of the desk in front of it, according as I was promoted from one to other of them.” . This touch was no doubt autobiographical, for, © although during our own term at Blundell’s we cannot remember noticing Blackmore’s name in any of the wood-work, it still remains carven in stone. Once upon a time a wag, approaching the school building, © exclaimed, “Surely this wall must be a kind of sacred rock, whereon are carved the glorious deeds of Tiverton worthies, even as the conquests of Darius are graven — on the rocks of Susa!” Nearer inspection, however, revealed to him that the inscriptions were all due to schoolboy industry, were nothing but names, where- upon he was led to moralise, “What a force is the desire for immortality !” Especially to the very young, when to build oneself — an everlasting name brings about a sense of triumph — and very comfortable satisfaction. At Blundell’s a — good deal depended on the energy and perseverance ~ expended on the task ; otherwise, as in the ice of © Chaucer’s “House of Fame,” whereto the school may — be likened, names might enjoy but a brief existence in the freestone. The doors of the school, studded with huge iron rivets, did not present an encouraging — , THE REIGN OF “SAS” 241 surface to the schoolboy knife, so terribly edaxr rerum ; and it is quite conceivable that the rivets were meant to resist such attempts. The interior, on the other hand, gave plentiful evidence of the carving propensity. Every panel and desk was cut about, as if for years nothing had been taught but bad name-graving. All this imparted to the place a time-honoured aspect which was not by any means a disadvantage. Indeed, to an eye accustomed to the spick-and-span appearance of school and college buildings of recent date, the rooms, with their old wood-work and handsome black and white roof, pro- duced a delightful effect, redolent as they were of the venerableness of immemorial antiquity, besides being charming to look upon. The numerous carvings, we must confess, did not in practice add to the convenience of the sitting or writing accommodation, but, whether good or bad, these are now things of the past, of which an ever-diminishing band are the lawful possessors. Those survivors will no doubt accord a ready assent to some lines quoted by an Old Blundellian—a con- temporary and friend of Temple—in St. Peter’s Church, Tiverton, on a certain school anniversary: Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days; The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, The very name we carved subsisting still; The bench on which we sat, while deep employ’d, Though mangled, hack’d, and hew’d, yet not destroyed. This fond attachment to the well-known place, Whence first we started into life’s long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e’en in age, and at our latest day. 16 242 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE But it is high time that something was said of the work of the school, which differed considerably from the system of education in vogue at present. The course of study was simpler, but, within its limits, more thorough. The Greek and Latin grammars had to be known by heart from one end to the other, in- cluding the small type in the accidence ; and, as Greek at all events was new to him, Temple, in common with other boys, must sometimes have found his lessons hard. Another difficulty was the daily task of Latin versification, and here it was a good thing for a junior if he had friends in the monitors’ form, for without such assistance many a boy would have struggled helplessly with the troublesome requirements of the art. There were, of course, books of tags handed down . from generation to generation, which “Sas” must have ~ known by heart, but it is surprising how much ingenuity — was called out in originating new ideas. . Whatever may be said of Latin verse composition — as a daily task, and we may venture to say that this | was rather too much of a good thing, we believe it to have been a great aid in the development of a sound ~ English style. It accustomed boys to take pains, and to make the most of their mental resources, even when — they possessed no great ability. This supposes that, after a preliminary training for which they were indebted to their elders, they conscientiously applied themselves to the wholesome drudgery; but it is © not like boys to spend their labour on that which satisfies not, when they can devolve the duty on. some one else, and the apparition of a genius, who could write not only an original copy for himself, but four or five original and different copies for THE REIGN OF “SAS” 243 his friends as well, was a positive misfortune for the school. Such an one was a boy who was called the “ Doctor.” He was not generally popular, but is remembered as having perpetrated a very excellent pun. It was the custom then, as now, for boys to learn the different parts of Greek verbs. The Doctor was given aduxvéowan, which proved a stumbling-block as far as the future tense was concerned. However, rising to the occasion, he humorously cited the aorist, and with a rueful countenance, allowed dq¢vEdunpy (“a fix I’m in”). This promising youth afterwards gained a scholarship at Exeter College, Oxford, took a double first, and won the Newdigate with a poem in blank verse—the only man, we believe, who ever did so. He was elected to a fellowship at Brazenose, and carried off the Chan- cellor’s Prize for an English essay. He was a frequent contributor to the Westminster Review in its great days, an earnest student of Dante, and an acute critic of literature in general. His reputation in this depart- ment stood so high that at the close of Matthew Arnold’s term as Professor of Poetry at Oxford, many were anxious that he should offer himself as a candidate for the vacant post. His personality, however, whimsical in the extreme, was always more impressive than any- thing he did, and therefore we fear that in mentioning the name by which he was known in mature life, we are introducing an entirely forgotten personage. The precocious genius was the Rev. S. Harvey Reynolds. In its more picturesque relations we shall refer to the institution of “spouting” in greater detail hereafter ; as an ordinary school exercise, something must be said of it here. Every Friday three boys from the monitors 244 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE K and third form used to stand out in the middle of the - school and “spout.” That is, they would recite a certain number of lines of English poetry, with appropriate action. An Old Boy records that his first piece was — Milton’s “L’Allegro,” and declares that it has still for him the tenderness of a first love. “Sas’s” comment on his performance was, “Very well indeed, but no action.” After that the novice took care to follow Shakespeare’s advice to the players. We shall touch on this subject again; meanwhile it will be well to set down some “confessions” of Temple regarding his progress through the school. “T came here” said he, “taught only by my mother, and having no other teacher, with no other supply of knowledge than an acquaintance with Latin grammar, though unable to construe a Latin sentence, a slight knowledge of the books of Euclid, and of Bonnycastle’s Arithmetic. From this school I began to learn every- thing else I wanted for carrying me through life. “T came here, when I was twelve years old, being placed at the bottom of the school with boys of seven or thereabouts. I felt exceedingly ashamed of being so low in the school, and made every exertion to rise higher, until I was promoted to the monitors’ class, the highest place in the school. In every form I made it — a rule to do two things: first, carefully to construe the lessons, and secondly, to parse every single word, and to look out the rule of grammar which governed it. That I did throughout the school, though I do not know ~ whether Mr. Sanders, who was then the master, found it out. “On one occasion, when I did not get the prize and complained of having to contend against others who ee THE REIGN OF “SAS” 245 had been in the class a considerable time longer than I, Mr. Sanders looked at me curiously, and said, ‘Umph! You are a greedy boy, and had better go to your place.’ “] remember soon after I got into the monitors’ class, I was partner ina great hoax. There was a test for a Greek Iambic prize, and amongst ourselves we calculated how the boys would come out in the list. I was put down No. 6, but came out fifth, which I thought covered me with glory. I stayed in the monitors’ class nearly two and a half years, spending my time in an excellent place, which, I am sorry to say, has since been abolished, and that was a kind of hiding-place behind the master’s desk, where I, as well as others in our form, used to secrete ourselves and do a great deal of work. I found the great benefit I derived from this was that I could prepare my lessons, and then catch the eye of my master when I was ready.” The Rev. J. B. Hughes informs us that he often heard Temple tell the tale how he observed that the head- master, when looking over exercises, always tried to catch the eye of the authors, and, when he succeeded, signalled to them to come up and stand by the desk, - while the looking-over process went on ; but he, Temple, thinking this a loss of time, kept his eyes sealed on the book he was reading, and so was not called up till last. This amusing lack of complaisance recalls a still more humorous story publicly related by the Archbishop : “ Delightful it was, too, as time went on, still to know the dear old headmaster, whom we used sometimes, I am ashamed to say, to disobey in secret. And not always in secret. Now and then we were caught in the act, and I, for myself, can remember when I barely 246 EARLY ASSOCIATIONS OF ARCHBISHOP TEMPLE escaped condign punishment. And I only escaped because the headmaster said to me, ‘Temple, I do believe you are the most impudent boy that ever lived. And, at the same time, I don’t deny that you are a good boy, and that you work at your lessons, and, as a general rule, do what you are told. You are a good boy, certainly, but I must really teach you to restrain your spirits.’ And I thought to myself, ‘What is to be the end of this?’ He added, ‘You must not do any- thing of the sort again, I assure you, because it won't be the same next time.’ Then I found there was to be no punishment at all, which was, of course, a very con- siderable relief; and I took very good care not to do the same thing afterwards, which had in it a little trace, but only a little trace, of being presumptuous, and, as he said, impudent.” As to the positive value of the education imparted at Blundell’s, it is impossible to name a more competent judge than Temple himself. A recognised expert, he sat on the Schools Inquiry Commission, the constitution of which body was remarkable in that four of the members had associations of one kind or another with Blundell’s School. All the commissioners had a high opinion of the Devonshire school, and constantly referred to it as a model establishment. But Temple: “ What- ever may be the future of this school, I consider it always stood as a type of those old grammar schools to which England owes so much, because in them so many eminent men have received the instruction which raised them from an obscure situation to become good servants of the nation in Church and State. Such a school as this, with its old traditions, with its old system of teaching, and its regular steady working, is one of THE REIGN OF “SAS” 247 the greatest privileges which Englishmen ever know. I don’t say there is not a great deal wrong that needs reformation, and many things I should like to see changed, although, I must confess, many changes have been made since I left of which I do not heartily approve. But still, in this school a sound and substantial edu- cation was always inculcated into the minds of the scholars. “What is wanted is not the subversion of anything that is done, but an addition. We were, when I was here, taught to rely on our own exertions, and were well tested. We were not made merely to listen to a teacher, but to learn. I have sometimes thought that we might have been taught to learn a little more than we did, and have wished that the course was a little wider than it was, yet I have never been able to get rid of the feeling that, if you have a few lessons and a great deal of time, to those who, like myself, took a great deal of interest in the work, you found an incentive in the freedom in which you were left. I know I read nearly the whole of Euripides in my spare time, and I don’t think I should have done so much if I had been given the same amount of work in school-lessons. You may depend upon it there is a real and special value in thus throwing a boy on his own resources, and allowing him to learn in such a way as that. “JT can remember as quite a commonplace thing that I got hold of a book no doubt known to most of you—Bland’s Algebraic Problems—and worked entirely through it in playtime, and found afterwards that it gave me the lower parts of algebra, which I doubt if I could have obtained from any teacher whatever. I must tea R tert * 5 t. 5 pies , ‘ { Br ey ‘ 5 7 ' P ¢ te iteds Ag ys % Step Ee et. wat fii ‘ ini mi ‘% ‘ ; UR ee? a” * oe INDEX ACLAND, SiR THomAs (a), 302 Acland, Sir Thomas (4), 229 Aldhelm, Abbot, 27 Alexander and the King of Egypt, 214-8 Armada, The Spanish, 61, 130 Arnold, Matthew, 326 Arnold, Dr., 314, 326 Ashford, Dr., 77 Aubrey, 105, 112, 122 Axe, River, 31 Axmouth, 2 Axon, 71, 74, 86, 88, 89 BABBACOMBE, 7 Balliol College, 128, 129, 301-15; scholars, 305, 306, 326 Baptists, 97 Baring-Gould, Rev. S., 50, 156 Barnstaple, 103, 128 Beacon Hill, 2, 9, 53, 59, 62, 80, 86 Beatrice, The Princess, 311 Beauties of England, The, 1 Beche, De la, 1 Bernard, St., 32 Berry, William, 78 Birch Hill, 2 Bishops, American, 323 Blackborough, 15 ; beacon, 6 337 Blackdown (or Blackdown Range), 1-22, 29, 51 Blackmore, Rev. John, 94-7 Blackmore, Richard Doddridge, 16, 53, 58, 94, 240, 255-9, 284 Blackmore clan, 98 Blackwood’s Magazine, 268 “ Blue” boys, 194-8 Blundell, Peter, 117-23 142, 297, 298 Blundell’s School (Old), 129-31, 133, 238-41, 278, 331; (New), 325, 326 Bodmin, Mr, J. Maclean’s history of, 73 Bolstering, 175 Boniface, St., 32 Boswell, 72 Boulton, Mrs., 148 Boulton, Dr., 226, 228, 229, 235, 237 Bovet, Richard, 51 Box-beds, 236 Branscombe, 6 Brewer, Lord, 32, 39, 44 Bridwell, 57, 163 Bristol Times and Mirror, The, 266 Broadhembury, 2, 13, 34, 47 22 338 Brooking-Rowe, Mr., 32, 40 Brown Down, 2 Buck, Mr. J. H., 323 Budleigh Salterton, 7 Burnand, Sir F. C., 15 Butler, Samuel, 128 ‘Bygone days in Devonshire and Cornwall, Mrs. Whitcombe’s, 291 Caps, 167 Calls-over, 237 Camden, 24 Candelabrum, 224, 225 Carew, Bampfylde-Moore, 134-40 Carew, The Lady, 45 Carew, Rev. R. B., 80, 137, 260, 271, 311 Carew, Sir Edmund, 45 Carew, Sir Gawen, 45 Carew, Sir Peter, 45 Carew, Mr. T., 137 Carveths, The, 73 Carving, 240, 241 Cary, George, 130 Castle Neroche, 2, 31 Channel, Bristol, 7; English, 7 Channon, Mr. Robert, 97 Chesney, General Sir George Tompkyns, 121, 267-70 Cholmley, Mr., 128 Chomley, Rev. Hugh, 291 Christmas Ghost, 48 Churchstanton, 22 Circuses, 202, 203 Cistercian Order, 32-4, 38, 39 Clarke, Mr. Richard Hall (2), 57 Clarke, Mr. Richard Hall (6), 163, 331 Clarke, Mr. Thomas, 163, 233, 234, 237, 309 INDEX Collier, Captain Jewell, 57 Collier, Mr. William, r1o1-102 Colton, Rev. Caleb, 211 Columba, St., 50 Coombe Raleigh, 6 “Cop,” 166, 167, 238, 256 Cornishmen, 18, 20 Cotton, Mr. J. S., 137 Cramping, 177, 178 Crockers Hole, 58 Cross, Rev. T. U., 324, 326 Culm, 4, 6, 31, 58, 80 Culmstock, 9, 16, 22, 49-51, 53-62; beacon, 13, 60-62 Culpepper, Master, 133 Curland, 2 Curriculum, 242, 271, 272 Datwoop HILts, 6 Dant, Mr. C. H., 304 Darell, William, 108, 111-13 Dartmoor, 3, 7 Davey, William, 189 Davidson, Mr. J. B., 36 Dayman, Canon, 234, 235, 310, 311 Demetae, The, 28 Dicken, Dr., 230, 232-4 Doble, Sergeant, 79 “ Doddeton,” 35, 36 Domnonia, 27 Downes, Rev. W., 5, 10, 12-14 Dunkeswell, 8, 45; Abbey, 22, 32-6, 38-44, 47 ; Common, 21; Church, 45 Dunning, Mr. E. H., 331 Dunsford, Mr. Henry, 271 Duntze, Sir John, 151 Duotriges, The, 23 Dyfnaint, 29 INDEX 339 EccENTRIC CHARACTERS, 200- | HACKER, MR. ARTHUR, 271 204 Edward III., 61, 120 Elmore, 198, 199 Elworthy, Mr. F. T., 115 Emmanuel College, 128 Epigrams, Latin, 145 Ewing, Mrs., 213 Exe, River, 4, 201 Exeter, The Dean and Chapter of, 73, 95 Exhibitions, 149 Exmouth, 5; Warren, 4, 5 Factory, TIVERTON, 147 Fagging, 170-5 Fairies, 52 Faraway Hill, 2 Fellowships, Blundell’s, 128, 129, 3097 Fifth of November, 171, 172 Fighting, 181-9, 270, 331 Fisher, Mr. Arthur, 122, 149 Fitton, Dr., 11 Folland, Mrs., 166, 173, 256 Forches Corner, 29, 76 Frithelstock Abbey, 130 Fry, Capt. Robert, 57 Fuller, Thomas, 105 GALE, 24 Games, 277-82 George III.,,140 Geraint, 26, 27, 29 Gittisham Hill, 2, 6 Gladstone, Mr., 257 Govett, Rev. Clement, 254 Gray, Mr. S. O., 268 Gray, Thomas, 72 Guy de Beauchamp, 73, 113 Hackpen Hill, 9, 17, 35, 54, 59, 80 Haddon family, 80 Hadow, Rev. George, 303-304 Haldon, 3, 4 Hall, Bishop, 126 Harding, Colonel, 288, 290 Harpford, 2 Hawksdown, 2 Hayter, Bishop, 140, 141 Hayward, Abraham, 160-62 “FH. B.,” 99 Heathcoat, Mr, John, 294, 316, 317 Hellings, Mr. James, 57 Hembury Fort, 2, 6, 23-5 Hemyock, 8, 59; Castle, 48 Hinds-Howell, Canon, 254 Hogarth, 230 Hook, Dean, 153-4 Horne, Bishop, 72 Hughes, Rev. J. B., 165, 245, 255, 317 Humphreys, Mr. A. L., 70, 15 Hutchinson, Mr. P. O., 24 Hyde Abbey, 146 Idylls of the King, The, 26 Impey, Archibald Elijah, 148-9 Impey, Sir Elijah, 149 Incledon, Mr. Robert Newton, 122, 147 Ine, King of Wessex, 27 Inkpot, 324-5 Ironing-box, 182, 331, 333 Itineraries, 24 JENKYNS, DR., 302-303, 306-309 Jex-Blake, Dr., 314 Johnson, Dr., 72 Johnson, Major, 219 340 INDEX Jowett, Rev, B., 306 Justice of the Peace, 152 (note) Keats, REV, RICHARD, 144-50 Keats, Sir Richard Goodwin, 149-50 Keble, 252 Kekewich, Colonel S. B., 267 Kelso, Mr., 91 Kentisbeare, 13, 22, 45 Keppel, Bishop, 72 Kiddell, Henry, 142 Kneller Hall, 262, 312, 313 Lawson, REv. ROBERT, 260-61 Lazar (or leper) houses, 37 Lee, Mr. William, 75, 90 Leighs, The, 49 Leisure Hour, The, 208-212 Littlecote House, 108-111 Lion, The Red, 91, 92 Lockhart, Father, 312 Lorna Doone, 167, 179, 183 Love, Miss, 219-20 Luppit, 45 MACKENZIE, MR. L., 327 Maidendown, 9, 73, 74, 84, 88 Malcolm, Sir George, 261 Manning, Cardinal, 169, 312 Matthew, John, 148 Medals, 147, 148 Melbourne, Lord, 99 Membury Castle, 2 “ Moridunum,” 24 Morrell, W. J., 324 Mortal Pen, 9-11 Mummers, 213 Murchison, Sir Roderick, 12 Musbury Castle, 2 NEALE, REv., J. M., 40 Nelson, Lord, 150, 214 New England, 106, 107 Newman, Cardinal, 168, 169, 312 Newte, family of, 334, 335 Noon’s Barrow, 29, 30 Norman, Miss Mildred, 327 Northleigh, 2 Norton, Mr. William, 84 Nun, 29 John, 85; Mr. Oak, great, 334 Old Boys’ Day, 291-9, 322 Otter, River, 2, 31 Ottery East Hill, 21 Ottery St. Mary, 2 Owen, Canon, 307 Owen, Rev. Donald M., 129, 271, 312, 313 PALMERSTON, LORD, 227-30 Pandemonium, or the Devil's Cloyster, 51 Parody, 287, 288 Paul Pry’s Song, 222-3 Payne, Mr. A. R., 322-3 “ P. B.,” 282-8, 333 Peace-egg, The, 213 Peace rejoicings (1814), 63-8 Peak Hill, 2 Pennant, 25 Perlycross, 16, 80, 94, 95 Philpotts, Bishop, 98-100 Pixie Garden, 25 Polliards’ Ode, 139 Poncheydown, II Pook, The Misses, 89 Pook, Mr. John, 77, 97 Popham, Sir John, 105 116, 121, 126, 127 : ! : INDEX Pophams, The, 49, 107, 114 Popham’s Pit, 115 Post-office, Old Tiverton, 223, 224 Prayers, 299 Prescott, 16, 37 Prestecote, John, 36-8 Prince, 117 Prince Consort, The, 313 RACES, 295-7 Rectors, 225, 226 Reynolds, Rev. S. Harvey, 243 Richards, Dr., 150-62 Roasting, 170 Rogers, Mr. W. H. Hamilton, 7) 47 Rokeby, 107 Rolle, Lord, 302 Romans, 22 Russell, Rev. John, 154-7 St. JAMES’s CHURCH, EXETER, 130 St. Peter's 224, 293 S¢. Peter, The, 130 Salcombe Hill, 13 Salter, Rev. W. C., 129, 165, 236, 312 Sampford Hill, 9 Sanders, Rev. Henry, 235-72, 284, 316 Santa Maura, 102 Scholarships, Blundell’s, 301 Scott, Dr., 306 Scott, Sir Walter, 107 Seymour, Lord Webb, 108 Shairp, Principal, 305 Shakespeare, 47, 122 Sheepwashing, 179 Church, Tiverton, 341 Sheppard, Jack, 78 Short, Mr. John, 73-5 Shute Hills, 6 Sid Valley, 6 Sidbury Hill, 2 Sidmouth, 2, 13 Sidney Sussex College, 128 Sigwald (or Higebald), 29 Silverton Mummers Play, 213, 214 Simcoe, General, 49 Simonsborough, 30 Southey, Henry, 57 “Speaking,” 275-7, 289-90 Sports, 204, 205 Stephens, Very Rev. W. R. W., 153 Stocks, 203 Stukeley, 24 Sumersetas, 3! Sunday School, 89 Superb, The, 150 Swaling, 9 Tales from the Telling House, 96 Taunton Pool, 179, 190 Taylor, Mr. T. D., 258, 265, 266 Taylor, Mr. Robert Henry, 264 Taylor, Rev. Richard Howell, 262-4 Temple, Admiral, 72 Temple, Archbishop, 62, 84, 85, 89, 91, 128, 129, 163, 165-7, 188, 189, 191, 192, 226, 230, 231, 244-9, 255, 260, 262-6, 272, 282-3, 295, 301-315, 322-35 Temple, Colonel John, 83, 85, 256-60 Temple family, The, 83 Temple, Major Octavius, 71, 81-5, 924 INDEX q 342 | Temple, Miss Catherine, 83, 88, | Washington, 78 92 Watchet, 7 Temple, Miss Netta Jane, 83, 88, | Waterloo, Battle of, 77-81 89 Waterloo Fair, 70 Temple, Mrs. (mother of the Archbishop), 73, 82, 89, 91, 93 Temple, Mrs. (wife of the Arch- bishop), 327 Temple, Rev. William, 72 Tennyson, 26 Tidcombe, 166, 252, 333, 334 Tiverton, 117-9, 194-231, 332-3 Tiverton Castle, Siege of, 131, 132 Toplady, Augustus Montague, 47, 48 Torre Abbey, 130 Trees, 55-7 Trustees’ Day, 289-91 “ Tuns,” 30 Twenty-nioth of May, 206-12; 273-82 UFFCULME, 6, 22, 35 Uffculme Down, 25, 88 Upcot Pen, 9 Ussher, Mr., 8 WALDRON, MR. CLEMENT, 229 Ward, Artemus, I51 Ward, W. G., 307, 311 Washfield, 253, 254 Wellington, Duke of, 62-6, 68-70 Wellington Monument, 29, 30, 62, 68-70 Wellington, town of, 51, 62-8, 105 113 Welsh, The, 28, 29 Wesley, Charles, 141, 142 Wesley, John, 141, 292 Wesley, Samuel, 141-3 Whetstones, I1-21 White Down, 133, 134, 258 Whitmore, William, 118, 122 Whitmore, Sir W., 122 © Williams, Captain, 77 Winchester College, 145, 146 Windows, Stained-glass, 104, 326 Winfrith, 32 Wingrove, Mr. and Mrs,, 221, 222 “ Winkeys,” 238, 239 Woodbury Hill, 7 Wriothesley, Henry, Southampton, 47 Wriothesley, Thomas, 47 Wykeham, William of, 120 Earl of YarTY, RIVER, 6, 31, 101 Yeatman, Rev. H. F., 298 York, Duke of, 140 Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury. Messrs. HUTCHINSON & CO.’S NEW BOOKS BY MRS. ALEC-TWEEDIE BEHIND THE FOOTLIGHTS By the Author of ‘‘ Mexico as I Saw It,” ‘* George Harley,” etc. In demy 8vo, cloth gilt, 18s. net. 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