Chapter XI: Part 11

“JACK” RATTENBURY.
(_From a Lithograph by W. Bevan._)
]

About this time war broke out between England and France, and fearing the press-gang, he returned to Beer. There he found his uncle engaged in collecting men for privateering, an enterprise which appealed to his roving spirit, and joining the crew, he, with twenty-two others, was conveyed to Torquay and put on board the _Dover_, commanded by Captain Matthews. In due course the _Dover_ was ready for sea, and in March, 1792, started for her first cruise off the Western Islands. He thus describes his feelings on this occasion:—

And even now, notwithstanding the lapse of years, I can recall the
triumph and exultation which rushed through my veins, as I saw the
shores of my native country recede, and the vast ocean opening before
me; I was like a bird which had escaped from the confinement of the
cage, and obtained the liberty after which it panted. I thought on
some who had risen from the lowest to the highest posts, from the
cabin boy to the admiral’s flag. I wished to make a figure on the
stage of life, and my hopes and expectations were restless and
boundless, like the element around me.

The privateering enterprise, however, does not appear to have been very successful. After cruising about the Western Islands for several weeks without meeting with any adventure worth relating, the _Dover_ at last fell in with three American merchant ships laden with French goods, but as their commanders contended that they were not lawful prizes, they were allowed to go. It transpired later on that these very vessels were afterwards taken by an English cruiser. Not long after, the _Dover_ was captured by a French ship, and the crew, including John Rattenbury, were taken to Bordeaux and confined in the prison of that place. He does not appear to have been badly treated by his jailers, and he was allowed a certain amount of liberty, which enabled him to make the acquaintance of the master of an American vessel, then lying in Bordeaux harbour, Captain Prowse by name, who, taking a liking to the lad, allowed him to conceal himself on board his ship. It was, however, more than twelve months before the vessel was allowed to leave the port in consequence of an embargo on all foreign shipping, when, having taken in a cargo of wine, etc., it was cleared for New York, which port was reached after a passage of forty-five days. Here Rattenbury engaged himself as cook and cabin boy on board a ship sailing for Havre de Grâce. On arrival there he was anxious to get home again. He therefore transferred himself to an American merchantman belonging to Boston named the _Grand Turk_, bound for London, as he supposed, but much to his disappointment it proceeded to Copenhagen instead. He returned in her to Havre de Grâce, and thence after sundry adventures found himself in Guernsey, where, to his delight, he met his uncle, who took him back to Beer.

He was now sixteen years of age, and remained quietly at home for six months, part of which time he spent in fishing. After the roving life he had led, he found this occupation most uncongenial, and the smuggling trade, which was then being plied very briskly in the neighbourhood, offering great inducements, he determined to try his fortune at it. He accordingly joined a vessel engaged in this trade between Lyme and the Channel Islands, but after four months he engaged on another vessel, the _Friends_, a brig, commanded by Captain Jarvis. While in Tenby harbour she was captured by a French privateer. He thus narrates the incident:—

At eight o’clock the captain set the watch, and it was my turn to
remain below; at twelve I went on deck, and continued till four, when
I went below again, but was scarcely dropped asleep when I was aroused
by hearing the captain exclaim, “Come on deck, my good fellow! here is
a privateer, and we shall all be taken.” When I got up, I found the
privateer close alongside of us. The captain hailed us in English, and
asked us from what port we came and where we were bound. Our captain
told the exact truth, and he then sent a boat with an officer in her,
to take all hands on board his own vessel, which he did, except myself
and a little boy, who had never been to sea before. He then sent his
prize-master and four men on board our brig, with orders to take her
into the nearest French port. When the privateer was gone, the
prize-master ordered me to go aloft and loose the main-top-gallant
sail. When I came down I perceived that he was steering very wildly,
through ignorance of the coast, and I offered to take the helm, to
which he consented, and directed me to steer south-east by south. He
then went below and was engaged in carousing with his companions. They
likewise sent me up a glass of grog occasionally, which animated my
spirits, and I began to conceive a hope not only of escaping, but also
of being revenged on the enemy. A fog, too, came on, which befriended
the design I had in view. I therefore altered the course to east by
north, expecting that we might fall in with some English vessel. As
the day advanced, the fog gradually dispersed, and the sky getting
clearer, we could perceive land. The prize-master and his companions
asked me what land it was; I told them it was Alderney, which they
believed, though at the same time we were just off Portland. We then
hauled our wind more to the south until we cleared the Bill of the
Island. Soon after we came in sight of land off St. Alban’s. The
prize-master then again asked what land it was which we saw; I told
him it was Cape la Hogue. My companions then became suspicious and
angry, thinking I had deceived them, and they took a dog that had
belonged to our captain and threw him overboard in a great rage, and
knocked down his house. This I supposed to be done as a caution, and
to intimate to me what would be my own fate if I had deceived them. We
were now within a league of Swanage, and I persuaded them to go ashore
to get a pilot. They then hoisted out a boat, into which I got with
three of them, not without serious apprehension as to what would be
the event; but hope animated, and my fortunate genius urged me on. We
now came so near shore that the people hailed us, and told us to keep
further west. My companions now began to swear, and said the people
spoke English; this I denied, and urged them to hail again; but as
they were rising to do so, I plunged overboard, and came up the other
side of the boat. They then struck me with their oars, and snapped a
pistol at me; but it missed fire. I still continued swimming, and
every time they attempted to strike me, I made a dive and disappeared.
The boat in which they were now took in water, and finding they were
in a vain pursuit and endangering their own lives and safety, with
little chance of being able to overtake me, they suddenly turned round
and rowed away as fast as possible to regain the vessel. Having got
rid of my foes, I put forth all my efforts to get to the shore, which
I at last accomplished, though with great difficulty. In the meantime
the men in the boat reached the brig, and spreading all their canvas,
bore away for the French coast. Being afraid that they would get off
with the vessel, I immediately sent two men, one to the signal-house
at St. Alban’s and another to Swanage, to obtain all the assistance
they could to bring her back.

By good fortune the _Nancy_, a cutter belonging to the Custom’s Service, happened to be lying in Swanage Bay, under the command of Captain Willis, who, giving chase, re-captured the brig and brought her into Cowes Roads. She was restored to her owners, on their paying salvage, but Rattenbury received no reward for his services, and two days after re-joining the brig, was impressed into the Royal Navy and put on board a cutter cruising off the Channel Islands. On her return to Spithead, Rattenbury escaped on board a fishing smack and was landed at Portland, whence he proceeded, on foot, to Beer, exchanging his cap with a young man whom he met on the way for a hat. Some days after a party from the cutter sent in search of him reached Lyme, but although they failed to catch Rattenbury they had arrested the young man with whom he had exchanged hats. He was released, however, when they discovered that he was not the man they were in search of.

During the next six months he occupied himself with fishing and smuggling, but his roving spirit once more took him to sea, and in March, 1800, we find him sailing for Newfoundland on board a brig belonging to Topsham, commanded by Captain Elson. He was now twenty-two years of age. On its way out the brig put into Waterford for provisions, but had not been at sea many days before it had to put back to Waterford for repairs, having sprung a leak. These were speedily effected owing to the kindness of Lord Rolle, who lent seventeen of his soldiers to assist in the work. In due course they reached St. John’s, Newfoundland, and after discharging a part of their cargo, proceeded to Placentia and afterwards to Pacee, where the ship was laid up for three months, while the crew were employed in catching and curing cod. When they had secured sufficient for a cargo, they set sail, in November, for Oporto, but they had not been at sea many days before they were chased and captured by a Spanish privateer, and a prize crew put on board. Rattenbury and an Irish lad were, however, allowed to remain on board, and the former, by making himself generally useful, gained the confidence of the Spanish prize-master, so that when the prize reached Vigo, Rattenbury, instead of being sent to a prison, was taken by the prize-master to his own house, and given such a good character that the owner of the privateer gave him his liberty and presented him with thirty dollars and a mule to take him to Vianna, where the British Consul gave him a pass to Oporto. Here he met his late captain and ship-mates, who had also been given their liberty, and after some days found a vessel bound for Guernsey, on which he was engaged as mate. After an exceedingly rough passage he reached Guernsey on the 25th March, 1801, where he found a packet about to sail for Weymouth, in which he took a passage, and thus reached Beer once more.

On the 17th April, 1801, he married a young woman to whom he had become engaged before setting out for his last voyage and settled down at Lyme. Failing to find any regular employment, he determined to try privateering again, and accordingly joined the _Alert_, a lugger belonging to Weymouth, commanded by Captain Diamond. In her he sailed, in May, for Alderney, where, having taken in a stock of wine and spirits, a course was steered for the Western Islands in the expectation of falling in with Spanish vessels, but the venture was not successful, and the _Alert_ returned to Weymouth on the 28th December, 1801.

Rattenbury now remained at home for four years, and was employed in piloting and victualling ships. One day, while at Bridport, he was taken by the press-gang. He managed, however, to escape, and was pursued by the lieutenant and nine men of the _Greyhound_. During the chase his wife appeared on the scene, and seized the lieutenant round the neck. A scuffle ensued, in which the townspeople joined, and Rattenbury was able to get clear away. After this adventure he went to live at Beer, and made many trips in smuggling with varied success; but the lieutenant of the _Greyhound_ was his most persistent enemy, and was determined to capture him. On one occasion, at Weymouth, hearing that the lieutenant was on his track, he took refuge in a public-house, the landlord of which was a friend of his. The lieutenant having received information as to his hiding-place proceeded to the spot, and at two o’clock in the morning roused up the house, threatening to fire at the landlord through the window and force an entrance if he did not immediately come down and open the door. On the alarm being given, Rattenbury concealed himself in the chimney, and remained there for about an hour, while the premises were being searched. On the departure of the lieutenant he came out of the chimney in a parlous condition, black with soot and much bruised, but, as he says, “triumphing over the sense of pain itself, in the exultation which he experienced at having once more escaped out of the clutches of this keen-eyed Lieutenant and indefatigable picaroon.”

Becoming sick of being constantly hunted, he determined to take to privateering again, and shipped accordingly on board the _Unity_, a cutter then fitting out at Weymouth, commanded by Captain Head. About February, 1805, they proceeded to sea, touching at Alderney to take in provisions and spirits, and steered a course for Madeira, Teneriffe, etc., in the hope of falling in with prizes; but they met with no success, and returned to Beer in August of the same year. In consequence of his continued want of success in privateering, he determined never again to engage in it, “a resolution,” he says, “which I have ever since kept, and of which I have never repented.”

Rattenbury now settled down ostensibly to a life of fishing, but actually of smuggling, in which he met with many adventures and every variety of fortune. He had not been long at this employment when he was captured by the _Roebuck_ while off Christchurch, in Hampshire; but during the chase one of the man-of-war’s men, named Slaughter, had his arm blown off in the act of firing one of the guns. The captain was anxious to land the wounded man, and ordered a boat alongside to take him ashore, into which Rattenbury smuggled himself, and on reaching shore got clear off. That same evening he borrowed a boat and rescued his companions from the _Roebuck_, together with three kegs of gin, part of his contraband cargo which had been seized.

In the spring of 1806, he was captured by the _Duke of York_, cutter, in a fog, and was taken to Dartmouth. On nearing that port, he jumped overboard, swam ashore, and concealed himself in some bushes. Two women, however, who had seen him, inadvertently revealed his place of concealment, and he was re-taken. When he came on board again

... He was in such a pickle that his own shipmates could not help
laughing at him, and the captain, completely aggravated, exclaimed, “I
will put you on board a man-of-war and send you to the East Indies,”
to which he replied by calling him an old rascal, an expression which
only tended to sharpen his anger still more.

The smugglers were all tried by the magistrates of Dartmouth, who sentenced them to a fine of £100, to go on board a man-of-war, or to jail. They unanimously agreed to the last condition, but by six o’clock in the evening they were all so heartily sick of their quarters, which resembled the “Black Hole of Calcutta,” that they agreed to serve in the Navy, and were accordingly entered for the _Kite_, then lying in the Downs. They were removed the same evening to the _Safeguard_, brig, which lay in Dartmouth Roads. Next morning Rattenbury asked permission to go on board the _Duke of York_, on the pretext that he had a private communication to make to the captain. While on board, he seized an opportunity for escaping, jumped down on the bob-stay, and signalling with his finger a small boat which was passing at the time dropped into her, and in five minutes was landed at Kingswear, opposite Dartmouth, whence he made his way home by land.

Later on he was captured by the _Humber_, sloop, commanded by Captain Hill, and taken to Falmouth, where he was committed by the magistrates to jail. Next morning he and one of his shipmates were put into two post-chaises in charge of two constables to be taken to Bodmin. As the constables stopped for liquid refreshment at every public-house on the road they came to, they became somewhat merry towards evening. This was Rattenbury’s opportunity. While the constables were taking their potations at the “Indian Queen,” a public-house a few miles from Bodmin, he bribed the drivers not to interfere in what was to follow, and as soon as the constables came out they were overpowered by the smugglers. Rattenbury ran to a cottage close by, and the woman who occupied it showed him a way through the back door and garden, and having run a mile, on looking back, he saw his companion, who had escaped in the same way. That night they reached Newquay together, and next morning found their way on hired horses to Mevagissey, whence they took a boat to Budleigh Salterton.

On another occasion he defended himself in a cellar for four hours with a reaping hook and a knife, against a sergeant and ten men, all armed, and only escaped capture through a diversion created by some women arriving with a made-up story that a vessel had drifted ashore and that a boy was in danger of drowning.

Towards the end of 1808, through the influence of Lord Rolle, the soldiers posted at Beer for the purpose of catching Rattenbury were ordered away, and the ever-present fear of capture being thus removed, he determined to settle down as a law-abiding citizen, and with this object in view took a public-house, spending his leisure hours in fishing. But unfortunately this business did not prosper, so that about November, 1812, he reverted to his old trade of smuggling. In due course he was captured by the _Catherine_, a brig commanded by Captain Tingle, and brought to Brixham. While there his wife was allowed to visit him, and with her he arranged a plan of escape. She, in company with the wives of his shipmates, were to come alongside the _Catherine_ on the next day with a good boat. This was done, and Rattenbury, with his companions, jumped into the boat for the avowed purpose of helping “the ladies” out of her up the side of the brig. As soon as the women were all out of the boat, Rattenbury gave the order to “shove off,” and although chase was immediately given and shots fired, the smugglers managed to land at a headland called “Bob’s Nose.” They quickly scrambled up the cliff, but Rattenbury, taking off his coat and hat and leaving them at the top of the cliff, rolled himself down again to the beach and made for Torquay. On the next day he met his wife, and they set off together for Beer. His companions, however, were pursued, the chase being watched from the neighbouring hills by several hundred people from Brixham, but only two were re-taken.

Rattenbury remained in his public-house till November, 1813, when he was obliged to close it owing to want of business and the bad debts he had contracted. He was now in a bad way, without any obvious means of subsistence, except fishing, which did not pay, and with a wife and four children to support. To add to his misfortunes, in the autumn of the same year, he lost his boat in a gale. He, nevertheless, managed to pick up a little by piloting, and in the beginning of 1814 was fortunate enough to obtain employment with a Mr. Down, of Bridport, who kept a small boat for fishing. With the wages thus obtained he was enabled by August to buy another boat.

During the next few years he was engaged in running contraband cargoes from Cherbourg, and some of his expedients for outwitting the revenue officers are very ingenious. On one occasion the officer who was searching his ship for contraband goods came across a goose, which he was desirous of purchasing, but as it was stuffed with fine lace instead of the orthodox sage and onions, Rattenbury naturally preferred not to sell it. At another time he had soldered up some valuable French silks in a tin box, so that when his boat was being overhauled he was able to throw it overboard while the searchers were in another part of the boat, and the package being buoyant was subsequently recovered.

One dark night he landed a cargo at Seaton Hole, and began carrying the kegs one by one on his back up the cliff, when he tumbled over a donkey lying in the path. The beast set up such a vigorous braying that it awoke the preventive officer, who was asleep at the foot of the cliff, and the whole cargo was consequently seized.

In the summer of 1820, he contemplated building himself a house, and bought a piece of land for the site. He at once commenced collecting stones on the coast in his boat, and till the end of the year was superintending building operations.

In 1825, while returning from a smuggling expedition, he was captured off Dawlish by the crew of a coastguard boat and lodged in Exeter jail, where he remained till the 5th April, 1827, when he was released through the influence of Sir William Pole. In May, and again in July, he was in London giving evidence in connection with a scheme for the construction of a harbour at Beer and a canal from Beer to Thorverton. He then remained at home engaged in his old occupations till 1829, when Lord Rolle got him into the Royal Navy, but falling sick, he was discharged on 6th January, 1830. His last smuggling adventure happened in January, 1836. He was bringing twenty tubs of brandy in a cart from Torquay to Newton Bushel, and when within a mile of the latter place, at ten o’clock at night, he was overtaken by some mounted officers, and the horse, cart, and its contents were seized. Rattenbury, however, effected his escape. This adventure ended his career as a smuggler. At the Exeter Assizes, held in March, 1836, he appeared as a witness on behalf of his son, who was charged with having been engaged with others in an affray on Budleigh Salterton beach, in which some revenue officers were roughly handled. The case excited considerable interest, and Rattenbury’s cross-examination by Mr. Sergeant Bompas afforded much amusement. The following are some extracts from a contemporary account of the trial:—

Rattenbury _loquitur_. He keeps school at sea—fishes for sole, turbot,
brill; any kind of fish that comes to hook. B.: Which do you catch
oftenest, soles or tubs? R.: Oh, the devil a tub—(great
laughter)—there are too many picaroons going now-a-day. B.: You have
caught a good many in your time? R.: Ah, plenty of it! I wish you and
I had as much of it as we could drink—(laughter). B.: You kept school
at home and trained up your son? R.: I have always trained him up in a
regular honourable way, larnt him the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and
the Ten Commandments. B.: You don’t find there, Thou shalt not
smuggle? R.: No, but I find there, Thou shalt not bear false witness
against thy neighbour. B.: Nobody smuggles now-a-day? R.: Don’t they,
though! (Laughter.) B.: So these horses at Beer cannot go above three
or four miles an hour? R.: If you had not better horses you would
never get to London. I seldom ride on horse-back. If I do, I generally
falls off seven or eight times in a journey—(great laughter).

Rattenbury’s adventures now come to an end, and he appears to have settled down to a quiet life for the remainder of his days, Lord Rolle having generously allowed him a pension of one shilling a week for life.[27]

MAXWELL ADAMS.

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Footnote 27:

This account of John Rattenbury is compiled from a somewhat scarce
little book entitled _Memoirs of a Smuggler_, compiled from his Diary
and Journal, containing the Principal Events in the Life of John
Rattenbury, of Beer, Devonshire, commonly called “The Rob Roy of the
West.” Sidmouth: J. Harvey, 1837. 12mo.

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FAIR.

BY THOMAS WAINWRIGHT.

Barnstaple Fair, although now deprived of some of its ancient commercial importance by the establishment of great markets at other centres in North Devon, still attracts great numbers of purchasers of horses, Exmoor ponies, cattle, and sheep, reared by the agriculturists of the neighbourhood. Buyers attend the fair not only from all parts of Devonshire, but also from places beyond the borders of the county, among others cavalry officers come in some years to purchase horses for the military service of the country, while visitors from a wide district around the town arrive in large numbers to enjoy the “fun of the fair.”

This annual event has a very ancient history, for the claim of the town to the right to hold the fair is granted in Charters and recognized in Inquisitions from an early period, in one of which Inquisitions the jurors say that among divers liberties and free customs used and enjoyed by the burgesses of the Borough by the Charter of the Lord Athelstan, of famous memory, King of England, is the right to hold one fair in the year. The date of the fair was anciently July 21st, 22nd, 23rd, and 24th, as appears from the following regulations, which were in force for a long period:—

1st. The fair shall continue for four days, viz., on the eve and the
day of the blessed Mary Magdalene and the two next days following.

2nd. The whole soil of Boutport Street and the other streets within
the said Borough belongs to the Mayor and Comonaltie of the said
Borough during the fair and until 12 o’clock at noon on the day
afterwards.

3rd. The said Mayor and Comonaltie may set and demise the said soil
one day before the eve of the said fair, and have the whole profits of
the said fair and the bailiff of the said Borough shall collect and
receive the same.

4th. Also they shall there have the cognizance of Pleas and a court of
Pie Poudre, as incident to all fairs.

_From a Lithograph_] [_by J. Powell._
QUEEN ANNE’S WALK AND THE QUAY, BARNSTAPLE.

]

The time for holding the fair was changed subsequently, probably during the reign of King James I., the new regulations being as follows:—

If the 19th of September be on a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, the
fair shall finish on the following Saturday night, but if on either of
the three subsequent days it shall be allowed to continue until Friday
in the next week.

Another change was made in the year 1852, the fair being then fixed to commence on the Wednesday nearest to September 19th, and to continue for the two days following only, and this is the present regulation respecting its date and duration. By the latest arrangement the dealings in horses and ponies are limited to Thursday, the second day, the first being still devoted to the sale of cattle and sheep, and the third being _par excellence_ the pleasure day, although the shows, swings, “horses,” and other attractions, and the stalls, do a great trade on the other days also.

The place for holding the fair has also been changed. A century ago the cattle were disposed of in Boutport Street, the horses in the North Walk, and the shows and stalls for pleasure-seekers were located in the Square. For a few years, about 1880, the cattle and sheep were placed in Victoria Road, but by the present arrangement the cattle and sheep are disposed of in the Cattle Market, the horses in the Strand, and the pleasure-seekers find their shows and other attractions in the North Walk. It has already been mentioned that the cattle and sheep now sold, though still many, are not so many as in the old days when Barnstaple fair was the only event of the kind in North Devon. In the year 1824, it was recorded that 1,440 bullocks were driven in by the northern entrance into the town, over Pilton Bridge, of which not 300 were driven out by that road, and of these more than half were sold, and that it was calculated that £20,000 was expended in the purchase of cattle.

In the Borough Records we have accounts of the sales of horses and cattle at an early period, which are interesting as showing the mode in which security was given by the purchasers and the prices paid. The following are extracts from these records:—

Barnestaple. The register of horses and mares bought, sold and
exchanged in the ffayre there holden on the feast day of the Nativitie
of our blessed Virgin Mary, the 8th day of September [O.S.] in the
fowerth yeare of our Sov’eigne Lord Charles, by the grace of God of
England, France and Ireland King, defender of the faith, &c.

[Tolls] For every horse, mare, or colt 8d., viz., for record 4d. and
for custome 2d. apiece of the buyer & seller.

For every bullock 2d., viz., 1d. a piece of the buyer and seller; for
every pigg 1d. a peece; for every calf 1d. a peece.

Abraham Hearson, of Tawton, sold unto one William Earle of Biddiford,
one black mare, with a hitch in the near ear, Price 33sh, John Dillon
knoweth the seller.

Henry Puggesley, of Bratton, sold unto Walter Thomas, of South Malton,
one little bay nagge, with a square halfpenny under the farther ear,
Price 27 sh. The parties know each other.

William Blake, of Chiltenhampton sold unto John Ballamey of Stover a
bay mare with a halfpenny and a slit in the neare eare. Price 43sh.
4d. Roger Blake of Chittington, knoweth the seller.

William Barber, of Instowe sold unto Thomas Axford, of Lifton one bay
mare with a spade in the further eare, Price 33sh. 4d. Amos Ford
knoweth the seller.

Matthewe Brooke of Clovelly sold unto John Pine of Burrington one
little sorell nagge, toope cut in the neare eare & a slitt in the
farther, price 54sh. 8d. Hugh Dennis Upoostree knoweth the seller.

John Bellamy of Stooerd exchanged with John Ruddicliffe of Bishopp
Nimpton one pinshutt nagge colour blacke for a little blacke nagge,
top cut in the farther eare & a ob, [halfpenny] in the neare. John
Bellamey giveth 13sh. 4d. to boote.

Arthur Serjante of Kirchbe in Lancaster sold unto Richard Chapple of
Ilfarcombe in the County of Devon one greye geldinge snipt in the
bottome of both eares. Price £3 2s. 6d. The parties know each other.

Thomas England of Bristoll sold unto Richard Lyssett of Newport, one
browne baye mare top cutt in the neare eare. Price 10sh.

The total number of horses disposed of at this fair was 44, while 6 were exchanged; the prices of two are not given; the remaining 36 average £2 0s. 0½d. each, the highest price paid being £4 5s. for “one bay nagge,” and the lowest 10s. for the bay mare sold by the Bristol dealer.

At fairs in other years the business done in horses was as follows:—

Average price.
No. of horses sold. £ s. d.
1629 39 2 9 8
1630 97 2 9 9
1631 60 2 19 8½
1632 26 2 16 2
1633 33 3 5 0
1634 29 2 18 0
1635 21 2 1 10
1636 17 2 15 7
1637 22 2 19 1
1638 31 2 18 0
1639 36 2 14 0
1641 9 2 14 5
1642 3 —
1643 2 1 15 6
1647 46 4 3 4
1648 5 2 14 0
1649 37 3 15 10
1650 17 4 5 8
1651 12 3 16 0

The absence of sales during the years 1644–46, and the small number disposed of in 1641–3, may be accounted for by the following entry in the Parish Register:—

1647. The Regester of the Towne and Burrough of Barnestaple, by the
cause of the troubles and the contagion [plague] was not kept from the
year anno 1642 till the year anno 1647.

The following prices were realized for cattle sold at the various fairs mentioned above:—

8 heifers, black like, price £30 10s. 0d. 2 black oxen, topp cutt on farther eare. Price £13. 2 heifers and 1 steward. Price £6 13s. 4d. 1 red ox. Price £4 3s. 4d. 2 oxen. Price £10.

The opening of the fair takes place with the ceremonies which have attended it for many generations. On the morning of the first day a large stuffed glove, fixed at the end of a pole, is displayed from a window of the Guildhall, having before the year 1852 been exhibited from the west corner of the Quay Hall, which was demolished in that year to widen the street and quay, and which had been, until the dissolution of religious houses by Henry VIII., an ecclesiastical building, known as St. Nicholas’ Chapel. In the Receiver’s accounts for 1615 occurs the entry:—

Paid for a glove put out at the fair, 4d.;

and in those for 1622:—

Paid for a paire of gloves at the faire 4d.

Another entry in the same account being:—

Paid for candles to hange by a bull that was not beaten,

from which it may be inferred that bull-baiting was one of the amusements provided for visitors. The display of the glove is usually considered to be a symbol of the welcome extended to all comers. In the Guildhall meanwhile the sergeants-at-mace are busy preparing for all comers who care to partake of it the toast and spiced ale, the latter according to a recipe handed down for centuries. With this ale are filled the handsome flagons belonging to the Corporation, and the loving cups charged from them are passed round to the assembled guests. A few toasts are then given, among them that of “The Ladies,” the response to which often affords a good deal of amusement, for humorous Mayors have been known to astonish a bachelor in the company, sometimes “a young man from the country,” by calling upon him to respond; and while some orators have passed the ordeal successfully, others have found the situation an embarrassing one. The speeches ended, and the toast and ale consumed, about noon a procession of the Mayor, Corporation, and officials is formed, and, escorted by a large crowd of on-lookers, the Town Clerk reads the following proclamation at the High Cross and other places in the Borough:—

=Proclamation for the Fair.=

THE MAYOR of this BOROUGH doth hereby give notice that there is a FREE
FAIR within this Borough for all manner of persons to BUY and SELL
within the same which fair begins on this day WEDNESDAY the
and shall continue until 12 o’clock on the night of FRIDAY next the
instant during which time the Mayor chargeth and commandeth on
HIS MAJESTY’S behalf all manner of persons repairing to this TOWN and
FAIR do keep the KING’S PEACE.

AND that all BUYERS and SELLERS to deal justly and truly and do use
true WEIGHTS AND MEASURES and that they duly pay their TOLL, STALLAGE
and other DUTIES upon pain that shall fall thereon

AND if any OFFENCES INJURY or WRONG shall be committed or done by or
to any person or persons within this TOWN FAIR and LIBERTY the same
shall be redressed according to JUSTICE and the LAWS of this REALM

DATED this day of September 190

=God Save the King.=

In the olden time it was the custom to have a stag hunt on the second day, and the “fair ball” is still, and has long been, kept up. It was formerly the practice for many tradesmen to keep open house during the fair, of which practice some of their customers took very liberal advantage. Calling on one shopkeeper to pay a small account, they and members of their family who accompanied them would enjoy a hearty meal, and after an hour or two in the fair would repeat the proceeding with another, and sometimes with a third. This has now been put a stop to by the reduction of profits, through the competition brought about by the advent of Co-operative Societies and Companies, and other causes. Not only have the glories of Barnstaple fair been celebrated in prose, but the poet has sung of them, and this sketch may be appropriately concluded by giving one of the compositions that used to be sung:—

=BARNSTAPLE FAIR.=

Oh! Devonshire’s a noble county, full of lovely views, miss! And full of gallant gentlemen, for you to pick and choose, miss! But search the towns all round about there’s nothing can compare, miss! In measurement of merriment, with Barnstaple Fair, miss! Then sing of Barum, merry town, and Barum’s merry Mayor too, I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to!

There’s nothing happens in the year but happens at our fair, sir! ’Tis then that everything abounds, that’s either new or rare, sir! The Misses make their start in life its gaieties to share, sir! And ladies look for beaux and balls to Barnstaple Fair, sir! Then sing of Barum, merry town, and Barum’s worthy Mayor too, I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to!

The little boys and girls at school their nicest clothes prepare, ma’am! To walk the streets and buy sweetmeats and gingerbread so rare, ma’am! Their prime delight’s to see the sights that ornament our square, ma’am! When Powell brings his spangled troop to Barnstaple Fair, ma’am! Then sing of Barum, merry town, and our indulgent Mayor too, I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to!

If milk be scarce though grass be plenty, don’t complain too soon, dame! For that will very often happen in the month of June, dame! Though cows run dry while grass runs high, you never need despair, dame! The cows will calve, and milk you’ll have, to Barnstaple Fair, dame! Then sing of Barum, wealthy town, and its productive Fair too, And drink “the corporation, and the head of it, the Mayor too.”

If pigeons’ wings are plucked, and peacocks’ tails refuse to grow,
friend!
In spring; you may depend upon’t in autumn they will shew, friend!
If feathers hang about your fowls in drooping style and spare, friend!
Both cocks and hens will get their pens to Barnstaple Fair, friend!
Then, friend leave off your wig, and Barum’s privileges share too,
Where everything grows once a year, wing-feathers, tails and hair,
too!

If winter wear and summer dust call out for paint and putty, sir! And Newport coals in open grates make paper-hangings smutty, sir! And rusty shops and houses fronts most sadly want repair, sir! Both shops and houses will be smart, to Barnstaple Fair, sir! And Barum is a handsome town, and every day improving, sir! Then drink to all who study its improvement to keep moving, sir!

King George the Third rode out of Staines, the hounds to lay the stag on; But that was no great thing of sport for mighty kings to brag on; The French, alas! go _à la chasse_ in _von po shay_ and pair; But what’s all that to Button Hill? to Barnstaple Fair? For we will all a hunting go, on horse, or mule, or mare, sir! For everything is in the field to Barnstaple Fair, sir!

To Button Hill, whose name to all the sporting world sure known is, Go bits of blood, and hunters, hacks, and little Exmoor ponies; When lords, and ladies, doctors, parsons, farmers, squires, prepare To hunt the stag, with hound and horn, to Barnstaple Fair. Then up and ride for Chillam Bridge or on to Bratton Town, sir! To view the rouse, or watch the yeo, to see the stag come down, sir!

There’s nothing else in jollity, and hospitable fare, sir! That ever can with Barnstaple, in Fair time, compare, sir! And guests are very welcome hospitality to share, sir! For beer is brew’d, and beef is brought, to Barnstaple Fair, sir! Then sing of merry England, and roast beef, old English fare, sir! A bumper to “the town and trade of Barum and its Mayor,” sir!

Boiled beef, roast beef, squab pie, pear pie, and figgy pudding plenty, When eight or nine sit down to dine, they’ll find enough for twenty; And after dinner, for dessert, the choicest fruits you’ll share, sir! E’en walnuts come from Somerset, to Barnstaple Fair, sir! Then sing of Barum, jolly town, and Barum’s jolly Mayor too, No town in England can be found, old Barum to compare to.

I will not sing of Bullock Fair, and brutes whose horrid trade is, To make us shut our window blinds, and block up all the ladies: Nor of the North Walk rush and crush, where fools at horses stare, sir! When Mister Murray brings his nags to Barnstaple Fair, sir! But sing of Barum, jolly town, and Barum’s jolly Mayor too, No town in England can be found old Barum to compare to.

The ball one night, the play the next, with private parties numerous; Prove Barnstaple people’s endless efforts, sir, to humour us; And endless, too, would be my song if I should now declare All the gaieties, and rarities, of Barnstaple Fair. Then loudly sing, God save the King, and long may Barum thrive, O! May we all live to see the Fair, and then be all alive, O!

TIVERTON AS A POCKET BOROUGH.

BY THE EDITOR.

Towards the close of the year 1903 the Earl of Harrowby generously presented to the Mayor and Corporation of Tiverton a very complete collection of manuscripts carefully preserved by his ancestors and relating to the Parliamentary connection between themselves and the old Corporation of Tiverton, swept away by the municipal Reform Act of 1834–5. The general nature of the tie has long been known. It was a political nexus binding privileged burgesses to an influential family, and the sanction was interest. The motto might have been, on both sides, _do ut des_, for, while there were many professions of personal attachment, which may have been real, it was well understood that the cornerstone of the whole edifice was mutual advantage. As the connection, venal in origin, crystallized into permanence and respectability, it lost something of its sordid character. Sentiments of honour and loyalty, and even chivalric devotion, were spoken and cultivated, but these were the accidents, the trimmings. The substance remained what it had always been—reciprocal profit. All this was vaguely familiar to the present generation of townspeople, to whom traditions of the _ancien régime_ had descended from their forefathers, but the arrival of twenty-six stout files, crowded with an infinite variety of curious particulars, has made an evident change in the situation. We no longer behold through the dark windows of distorted memory. Now at last we see face to face; and for the authors of some of those “human documents” the Day of Doom would have already dawned, but for the screen of their own insignificance, which incriminating papers may remove, but the discretion of the censor at once re-erects.

_From a Lithograph_] [_by W. Spreat, Jun._
ST. PETER’S CHURCH, TIVERTON.

]

Before we speak of Tiverton as an appanage of the Ryders, it will be desirable to glance at the subject of pocket boroughs in general. There are no pocket boroughs or rotten boroughs now, and readers who have bestowed no special attention on political or constitutional developments, may be glad of some measure of illumination as to their rise and their place in the representative system of England. An impression formerly prevailed that the institution dated from the great Revolution, but this, it will be easy to show, was a fallacy. It was much older. On the other hand, the pocket-borough was never substituted by the arbitrary action of the Crown for the open borough, although it was the settled belief of many of the inhabitants of Tiverton that under the provisions of that mighty instrument, Magna Carta, the right of returning members had been inalienably secured to them, and the circumstance that this right was in fact exercised by neighbouring towns, like Barnstaple and Taunton, was considered proof that the local potwallers, or potwallopers, were the victims of invidious and illegal discrimination. “Magna Carta,” said Sir Edward Coke, “is such a fellow that he will not fear an equal”; and if it had been true that open voting in the boroughs had been promulgated as the law of the land after Runnymede, it has been judicially determined that no departure from that principle, brought about by the use of the Royal prerogative or by any other means, would have been recognized as valid. The terms of Magna Carta, however, do not countenance the view that the burgesses of any given town became entitled at their own option to send deputies to Parliament, or that universal suffrage was the rule. On the contrary, Parliamentary representation had at that time no existence either in theory or in practice. The Commons were simply tenants _in capite_ of the Crown. After 1265, no doubt, elections began to be held, and many little places were summoned to return members, who received salaries from their constituencies in payment of their services. This charge rendered the honour a costly burden, and Edward I., one of the wisest of our princes, varied the direction of the writs so as to distribute the maintenance of the new third estate over as wide an area as possible. The towns themselves did not greatly value the franchise, and, in many instances, petitioned to be relieved of the dubious privilege. It seems unquestionable that the mere receipt of an occasional summons did not create or confirm any inherent or indefeasible right of unbroken representation, nor do we meet with any attempt to institute such a system until the days of the Reformation, when a new spirit invaded the country and the Commons, as a branch of the Legislature, made rapid strides in numbers and importance.

Then it was that the lawyers of the Inns of Court, many of them Puritan in sympathy, disinterred the ancient records, and, on the strength of one or two summonses, insisted that such demesne towns, some mere villages, were boroughs by prescription, and as such possessed the right to send representatives to Parliament for all time. The consequence was that about thirty towns, in which great men at Court had an interest, resumed their lapsed privileges, and by the reign of Queen Elizabeth the Lower House had received an accession of sixty fresh members. This seems to have been brought about in the first instance by the sheriffs sending precepts to the places in question, and although in the thirteenth year of Elizabeth a debate took place regarding the admission of members from towns not hitherto represented, the practice was not seriously challenged owing to the efficient patronage and protection of the courtiers before named. In subsequent reigns the Commons themselves proceeded to enlarge their body. James I., indeed, talked of reform, but that pedantic monarch, far from checking the growth of the borough system, was the very sovereign to whom Tiverton was indebted for its charter.

The small borough, in the nature of things, tended to become a pocket-borough. In the reign of Elizabeth the Earl of Leicester “owned” the town of Andover; and the degree to which this form of property was stretched is amusingly illustrated by the well-known story of Ann Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, who lived in the days of the Merry Monarch. The Secretary of State, Sir Joseph Williamson, had sent her a letter in which he named a particular candidate for her borough of Appleby. Incensed at this presumption, the haughty dame returned the following reply: “I have been bullied by an usurper, I have been neglected by a court, but I will not be dictated to by a subject. Your man shan’t stand.”

The system, it goes without saying, lent itself to numberless kinds of abuse. It has been stated that at one period a mistress of the King of France acquired some borough, and that the Nabob of Arcot was able to secure the return of seven or eight members, all pledged to his interest. These assertions may be true or they may not, but the possibility of such anomalies did not deter apologists from affirming that the system was not by any means an unmixed evil.

A splendid senate, too, requires the gay ornamental parts, a sort of
shining plumage. The witty, the ingenious, the elegant, should be
represented. They were faithfully represented in our time by a
Sheridan, a Hare, a Fitzpatrick. Would a young adventurer, as Sheridan
was at his entrance in life, have attracted the eyes of the crowd?
Would the attic Hare or courtly Fitzpatrick have contended at a scene
like the Westminster election? We might have lost not only them, but
even the philosophic eloquence of Burke if all the returns were to
proceed from the crowd.—(George Moore, _History of the British
Revolution_, p. 341.)

This brief sketch will perhaps suffice as an explanation of the origin and character of the borough system in general. Let us now turn to the case of Tiverton in particular. As has been intimated, many of the inhabitants believed that Tiverton was a borough by prescription, and that accordingly the crown could not by its charter limit the right of election to members of the corporate body alone. Naturally the evidence relied on was that of State papers. An inquisition _post mortem_ a^o 51 Edw. III. sets out the extent and value of the manor and borough, from which it appears that the two were distinct as to rents and services, and that each had a separate court. By Letters Patent a^o 1 Edw. IV., the King grants the manor, borough and hundred to Humphry Stafford, Knight, in special tail without any other description. These data are obviously insufficient, and search was made at the Rolls Chapel from the thirty-third year of Henry VIII., the year of the earliest return to Parliament extant since the reign of Edward IV. The result was not satisfactory to the enthusiasts who instituted the inquiry, the first return discovered being that of 18 James I., when John Bamfylde and John Davye, Esqrs., were returned by indenture dated the 20th December, by the Mayor, capital burgesses, and assistants. It may be added that in Prynne’s _Brevia Parliamentaria_ there occurs no mention of Tiverton, which, on all these grounds, can hardly have been a borough in the sense desired.

Tiverton, then, we may take it as certain, did not enjoy the right of returning members until the thirteenth year of the reign of James I., when the Mayor, Capital Burgesses, Assistant Burgesses of the town and parish, or the major part of them, were empowered to choose and nominate two discreet and sufficient men to be burgesses of the Parliament. The charter was renewed in the same terms in the fourth year of James II., and again in the reign of George II., so that we need feel no surprise that, when the potwallopers from time to time threatened to assert their supposed right, the members of the Common Council, assured of their legal position, treated such vapourings with calm superiority. Until the tidal wave of reform demolished the bulwarks of their monopoly, the twenty-four were sole masters and arbiters. It was they who had the right to decide who should sit in Parliament for the ancient town—they and they alone. But how that right was exercised, if we except the bare list of the Council’s nominees, there is for a long period no evidence to show.