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Devon, Its Moorlands, Streams and Coasts

Chapter 10 No.10

Word Count: 7903    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

ar and

cree

vales of fer

roughly on a

ded passage do

e at some high

s an oak, tears

y's delights) I

kind air of

iceful stream

an from my pipe

ard a sweet bi

iver for his c

the songster

ves of that too-

a shepherd (t

o his pipe), wi

could, began t

edy stream he

sat to sport

hs would often

e with many ga

this flower, a

shells, then w

ed stones broug

celets, or to m

Britannia's

y in a hollow, and the trees that cover the sides surround and encroach upon the streets in the pleasantest way, and their foliage, the hills on every side, and the rushing Tavy through the midst, give an un-townlike air that is charming. But to imagine, fro

y left in churches and villages and holy wells. Some of the invaders established themselves near Tavistock, and tokens of them have been found in the neighbourhood in the shape of three stones bearing inscriptions-one in Ogham characters. The stones are now in the Vicarage garden. 'On one, which is over seven feet high, occurs a name, probably of a Sept or tribe in Kerry, where several stones inscribed with

comers, and the eventual, amalgamation of races, and quotes Professor Sullivan to the discomfiture of those who rhapsodize over the 'pure Celt' in Great Britain

. Gauls, Norwegians, Anglo-Saxons, Anglo-Normans, and English.... This is a fact which should be remembered by those who theorize over the qualities

Bedford Hotel.' The refectory is used as a Unitarian chapel, and still keeps its fine pinnacled porch. A ruined tower covered with ivy, called Betsy Grimbal's Tower (a young woman was supposed to have been murdered in it), stands in grounds close by, and the other chief fragments still to be seen are the monks' still-house, a little bit of the abbey church wall, and the remains of a battlemented wall following the

Cornwall, and here Egbert hastened with his army and defeated them at Hingston Down; but a great horde broke away, and crossing the border descended on Tavis

ich flowed do

a stone a po

n rebuilding it, for about thirty years later Livingus, the Abbot, was made Bishop of Devo

the earlier abbots were both pious and learned, and one of the earliest printing-presses set up in England was owned by the abbey. The first statutes of the stannaries that ever were printed were printed here: a 'Confirmation of the Charter perteynynge to all the tynners wythyn the coūty of Dev

regard to certain lands, between John Russell and Rohesia his wife and Henry de Pomeroy, which took place in the reign of King John. But there was a much closer connection with the county in

travels, who combined great 'skill in foreign languages ... with his sprightly conversation and polite address.' The Archduke was enchanted to find someone better acquainted with his speech and customs than the stay-at-home squires who surrounded him, and when he set out for Windsor he would not leave Mr Russell behind. To the Ki

nce for distinguishing himself in serious matters. In 1513 he accompanied the King in his campaign in France, and on the march an unusually large cannon was 'overturned in a lagoon.... Impatient to signalise himself by so

ater years he rose to positions of great and greater importance. When Henry was supporting the Constable de Bourbon against his Sovereign, Francis I,

in bales, trussed with baggage, as oats or old clothes, to make it bulky, and nicked with a merchant's mark.' As a further precaution he begged the help of the Duke of Savoy, who eventually allowed muleteers in his service to hire mules as if for his own use to take it across the mountains, and 'so bruit it to be carried as his stuff unto the Duchess his wife.' Arrived at Chambéry, the secret of the bales was allowed to leak a very little, and Sir John, knowing that there were

ir John was passing through the town, when he was very treacherously stopped and surrounded in his hotel by the municipal authorities. Cromwell managed to persuade them that he was a Neapolitan acquaintance of Sir John, and that if he might speak to him he woul

it was Sir John who first com

ainst him, he would realize that the nation was resolute in defence of its liberty. The Earl of Bedford, at the head of his recruits, engaged the enemy near Sherborne Castle, and was victorious; and at the battle of Edge Hill he 'was reported by Lord Wharton to have done extraordinary service.' Later he was among those most anxious for a treaty of peace, but he suffered from holding too moderate views.

y C

een Elizabeth's illustrious Captains, though he lived in the less triumphant days of Charles I. Captain Richard Peeke, or Peke, or Pike (he signs himself Peeke in h

r hails him with th

r can be found

wess to our T

nowned, nev

onour and the Sp

edition, earned for himself the nickname of Sit-Still. Peeke's account is excellent, although he begins by saying that he knows not 'the fine Phrases of Silken C

with them; 'for I was no Land Soldier, and therefore all that while kept aboard.' As the fate of the expedition has nothing to do with his story, it is enough to say that the men got very much out of hand, the Commande

'not fully dead.... I then resolved (and was about it) for Christian Charities sake, and for Countries sake, to have carried him on my back to our Shippes, farre off though they lay.... But my good intents were prevented; for, on a sodaine, came rushing in vpon me a Spanish Horseman, whose name as afterwards I was informed was Don Juan of Cales, a Knight.... Five or sixe Skirmishes wee had, and for a pretty while fought off and on.' As the fight went on Peeke got the better of Don Juan, who 'fell on his knees and crying out in French to me, Pardone moy, je vous pr

that Weapon? I told him, if I had kild one, I had not bene there now before that Princely Assembly, for when I had him at my foote, begging for mercy, I gave him Life, yet he then very poorely did me a mischiefe. Then they asked Don John (my Prisoner) what Woundes I gave him; He sayd, None: Upon this he was rebuked and told, that if upon our first Encounter, he had run me through, it had been a faire and Noble Triumph; but so to wound me, being in the hands of others, they held it Base.' Peake was now questioned as to the name of his ship, the Captain, and the number of cannon on board. 'I

gth the little Island was before Plymouth. I

Iron to those Gates, but two dayes before your Fleete came away.' Among many other questions, they asked why 'in all this Brauery of the Fleete the English had not taken Cales as well as Puntal?' To which Peeke, who must have often asked this que

is amused the 'Great Lords,' and one of them asked the prisoner if the Spaniards, when they came to England (in war), would prove such hens as the English. To which Peeke answered, 'somewhat emboldned by his merry countenance,' that they would prove chickens. 'Darst thou then (quoth Duke of Medyna, with a browe half angry) fight with one of these Spanish Pullet

requested them to giue me pardon if I refused. For to my selfe I too well knew that the Spaniard is Haughty, Impatient of the least affront: And when he recei

ayd to displease them) sayd: That if their Graces and Greatnesses would giue me leave to play at mine owne Countrey Weapon called the Quarter Staffe, I was then ready there an Oposite, against any

Dukes asked, how many I desired? I told them, any number under sixe. Which resolution of mine,

ng (with mine owne hands) such an assured danger u

(Weapons considered) no Glory: An Honourable Subjection I esteemed better, than an Ignoble conquest.... Only Heaven I had in m

tion of his pluck, whether they felt mortified or not, and he was treated with extreme kindness, both then and afterwards. He 'was kept in the Marquesse Alquenezes House, who one day ... desired I would sing. I willin

ude for the favours shown to him, Peeke begged to be allowed to return home, 'being a Subject onely to the

hire,' in which the adventures of 'Dick Pike'

hat he returned to Tavistock. And if it was himself, and not a namesake, who flourished there, in 1638, our hero mig

so that it stands on piers. It is thus a true campanile, and was never joined to the church.' There are monuments to several families in the nave and chancel, and stories and me

ady Howard was regarded as 'a female Bluebeard,' but a later verdict is more charitable, and it is now thought that the unhappy lady has been much maligned. Being a

time for

time for

death she married Sir Richard Grenville. Her last 'venture,' as Prince calls it, was a very wretched one; Sir Richard treated her abominably, and she retaliated to the worst of her power. After her death, Mrs Bray says (in that delightful storehouse of local traditions, 'The Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy'), there aros

s up the West Street towards the Moor.... My husband can remember that, when a boy, it was a common saying with the

s. At his feet kneels a life-size figure of his wife. 'Her buckram waist, like armour, sleeves, ruff, and farthingale are all monstrous; and her double-linked gold chains are grand enough for th

to murder Page, and the story is told in several ballads, in one of which there is a ring of sincerity which makes the 'verses sound better to the brain than to the ear.' It is now thought that the ballad was written by Delaney, but in the ear

whom Fortune

, that proffered

e hath luckless

t content di

eares my fathe

ll, a match f

e was, yea, gold

art had chose

de they would no

ride, their pur

sobs I did th

d, whereas I c

ine my speeche

ill my wishes

Page possest

ge still was lod

.

gan my downf

d to make him

me his disco

he should be

.

ish that Page e

ad some othe

uld I wish,

and see sweet S

fond that gre

raffe upon th

, and rightfu

ome 'twixt Paren

hild, and boun

d where I no

to much and

e had made me S

mes and courteou

come to visit

fe, and marke

hildren be a

are, which for m

the sting of

v'd and lov'd

e, we'll bid t

mes lapses into bathos, but as in a way it answ

cause of my co

th, as Birds i

thou to beare s

e, and eke my

d thy wisdome

d not ent're

hadst a kinde

whose yeares ar

more bright tha

had my heart

obs to thinke o

ld my owne u

done in heart

ov'd, I cann

ight was ever

death could t

s belonged to the Glanvills, is now

e people seem to have been rather indifferent to the cause of the war, and very sensible of its hardships, for it was here suggested that a treaty might be made, 'whereby the peace of those two counties of Cornwall and Devon might be settled and th

f anybody remarked it was a fine day, he was wont to declare that, however fine it might be elsewhere, he felt quite sure it must b

gh any doubt as to the author of the lines is cleared up by a manuscript in the library of Trinity College, Dublin. Not very many details of his life are known, but he had the happiness of being better appreciated by his contemporaries than by posterity, and Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton wrote complimentary vers

tannia's Pastorals,' there is a quaint a

he marigold

parture o

e honeysuc

s when the

urtle when sh

e, as I, sinc

touch marks his descript

pure and thinn

sea-betroth

ice, not mad

d betwixt two

hath not ye

ss was, and so

ce elf then (

dancer or su

t of rush, wo

ow'r then serv

made of the

th them, held

bottles; neater

ttle was a c

d pearl serve

m were fill'd w

t a joyful pride in his county, and his lo

Harrys, who were probably acting for Sir Francis Drake, and he formally bought it of them ten months later. The house was built in the body of the church, and it is still easy to trace its ecclesiastical origin from some of the windows and architecture. In the hall is a fine frieze, with raised figures in high relief and an elaborate background, the subject a

o England, hang

n the powder'

Devon, I'll quit t

e Channel, as we dr

tered about in an irregular group, a stream runs through them to join the Tavy, and just above the wide bridge the brook divides, flowing each side of a diamond-shaped patch, green with long grass and cabbages. A steep slope leads up to the little church, which stands back, and a tiny avenue of limes l

sses the stream. Climbing up on the farther side, the road soon reaches the village of Mary Tavy. In reference to these villages a very old joke is told of a Judge unacquainted with these parts who, in trying a case, not unnaturally confused the names with those of witnesses, and ordered that Peter and Mary Tavy be brought into court. Mary Tavy has not the unusual attractiveness of Peter Tavy. It looks barer, and is over

and not far beyond this house the road reaches another and very different farm, looking full of comfort-and goes no farther. This farm has the significant name of Lane End, and one realizes from its solitary, exposed position that the high and substantial wall surrounding it was built for sound reasons. It stands on the moor, and the cultivation is of the roughes

re Tor rose beyond, silent and impressive, covered with snow. The Tavy had a new beauty, for it was almost frozen over, and the dark water, and along whirling scraps of foam, showed between the blocks of ice and sn

nt

be brought up to date, and trimmed, and filled with inappropriate people, and everything else done that should spoil them, but in spite of it all th

roods over the moor. But there is no suggestion as to who it is that the moor has most truly and absolutely belon

hey are in their proper place, with their reflections quivering beneath them. Sometimes a kind of black moss grows upon them, and tiny bits of white lichen, giving together a curious tortoiseshell look. Above, the hill-sides are covered with heath

n some astonishing way it always seems to appear as a landmark, north, south, east, or west, when one imagines it to be absolutely out of range. The sides are steep and rocky, and the church stands 'full bleak a

able, for there is no saying how mist wreaths may drift. The church is dedicated to St Michael de la Rupe, and here another tradition comes in, for it is popularly supposed that, when the building of the church was begun, the devil pulled away all the day's work in the night. At last St Michael came to the rescue, and hur

se and close to the water's edge, a mountain of gold and sunny green, broken in the midst by a high grey crag, which stands up sheer and grey amid the mass of gorgeous colour. This is the first peak of a great range of limestone cliffs, which for the most part, as the hill sweeps round above the village of Morwellham, are hidden in the woods. But when that tiny cluster of cottages and wharves is left behind, the stream creeps closer to th

triumphant beauty is beyond dispute. The innumerable creeks and inlets, the rich abundance of foliage and pasture, and the sweeping sense of spaciousness from the open sea that comes off Plymouth Sound, help to make the grand eff

de

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