Chapter VI: Part 6

In the next year another attack was made on the Royalist forces under Colonel Digby in Great Torrington, resulting in a fight on the Commons on the north side of the town, in which the attacking force was repulsed. A description of this engagement is given by Lord Clarendon in his _History of the Rebellion_.

Between this last date and that of the blowing up of the Church, there is the following interesting entry in the Register of Burials of July, 1644:—

Thomas Moncke gent. lieuetennt to Colonell Thomas Moncke of Poderidge
Esq beeing slaine in South Streete the IX^{th} day about 12^{th} a
’clocke att night by somme of his owne company by reason of some
misprision of the word given being the IX^{th} day att 12^{th}
aforesaid was buried the 10^{th} day.

The “Colonell Thomas Moncke” in this entry was the father of the unfortunate lieutenant, and brother of the celebrated George Monk, Duke of Albemarle and Earl of Torrington, who subsequently played the leading part in the Restoration of King Charles II. Potheridge, in the parish of Merton, which is now converted into a farm-house, was the family seat of the Monks.

On the morning of Monday, the 16th February, 1645, the Parliamentarian Army, with Fairfax as General and Cromwell Lieutenant-General, marched from Ashreingney viâ Stevenstone, reaching Great Torrington late in the evening, and after some hard fighting in the dark succeeded in forcing their way into the town and driving the Royalist soldiers, under Lord Hopton, through the streets and across the Torridge in the direction of Cornwall. Hardly had the victors effected an entrance, before the Church, which had been used by the Royalists as a magazine for their powder, was blown up, the explosion wrecking the surrounding houses and dealing ruin and destruction in all directions.

There are several very graphic accounts of the catastrophe and the incidents immediately leading up to it, by eye witnesses, which cannot be excelled in accurate and vivid description by any additional embellishments. The following is that of Joshua Sprigge, the chaplain of Fairfax:—

Monday, February 16th, the drums beat by four of the clock in the
Morning; the general rendezvous of the army was appointed to be at
Rings-Ash, about three miles from Chimleigh; where, accordingly, by
seven of the clock in the morning, the whole army was drawn up in
battalia, horse and foot, on the moor five miles short of Torrington,
and so marched in order ready for a present engagement, in case the
enemy should attempt any thing in our march through the narrow lanes;
the forlorn hope of horse, commanded by major Stephens and Captain
Moleneux, being advanced towards Stephenston (master Rolls’ house near
Torrington), his excellency understood that the enemy had 200 dragoons
in the House, whereupon a commanded party of horse and foot were sent
to fall on them; but upon the advance of our forces towards them, the
enemy quit the place; yet our horse marching fast, engaged their rear,
took several of their dragoons prisoners, and afterwards the forlorn
hope of horse on both sides were much engaged in the narrow and dirty
lanes; at last we beat them from master Rolls’ house, all along the
lane almost to Torrington. About five of the clock in the evening the
van of the army was drawn up in the park, the forlorn hope of foot was
drawn out near the forlorn hope of horse in the midway, between master
Rolls’ house and Torrington, and there lined the hedges to make good
the retreat of the horse; the enemy likewise drew out of the town four
or five closes off, and lined the hedges with musketeers within a
close of ours, and flanked their foot with horse; whereupon good
reserves were sent to second our forlorn hope of foot, lest the enemy,
knowing the ground, and we being strangers unto it, might suddenly
encompass us (it being by this time dark night, and the whole army
being then come up, having marched ten miles that day). About eight at
night the enemy drew off from some of the closes they formerly
possessed; whereupon we gained the ground they quitted, and a council
of war being called, whether it was advisable, being night, to engage
the enemy’s body, then in the town, who were ready with the best
advantages of ground and barricadoes to receive us; it was the general
sense of the council to make good our ground and double our guards
till the next morning, that we might the better take view of the
places where we were like to engage; whereupon the general and
lieutenant-general went from master Rolls’ house to see the guards
accordingly set, but, hearing a noise in the town, as if the enemy
were retreating, and being loath that they should go away without an
affront, to that purpose, and that we might get certain knowledge
whether they were going off or not, a small party of dragoons were
sent to fire on the enemy near the barricadoes and hedges. The enemy
answered us with a round volley of shot; thereupon the forlorn hope of
foot went and engaged themselves to bring off the dragoons, and the
reserve fell on to bring off the forlorn hope; and being thus far
engaged, the general being on the field, and seeing the general
resolution of the soldiery, held fit that the whole regiments in order
after them should fall on. And so both sides were accordingly engaged
in the dark for some two hours, till we beat them from the hedges and
within their barricadoes, which were very strong, and where some of
their men disputed the entrance of our forces with push of pike and
butt-end of musket for a long time. At last it pleased God to give us
the victory, our foot first entering the town, and afterwards the
horse, who chased the enemy through the town, the Lord Hopton,
bringing up the rear, had his horse shot dead under him in the middle
of the town, their horse once facing about in the street, caused our
foot to retreat, but more of our horse coming up pursued them to the
bridges, and through the other barricadoes at the further end of the
town, where we had no sooner placed guards at the several avenues, and
had drawn our whole army of foot and most of our horse into the town,
but the magazine of near eighty barrels of powder, which the lord
Hopton had in the church, was fired by a desperate villain, one Watts,
whom the enemy had hired with thirty pounds for that purpose, as he
himself confessed the next day, when he was pulled out from under the
rubbish and timber, and the lead, stones, timber, and iron work of the
church were blown up into the air and scattered all over the town and
fields about it where our forces were; yet it pleased God miraculously
to preserve the army, that few were slain besides the enemy’s (that
were prisoners in the church where the magazine was blown up), and
most of our men that guarded them who were killed and buried in the
ruins: and here was God’s great mercy unto us, that the general being
there in the streets escaped with his life so narrowly, there falling
a web of lead with all its force which killed the horse of one master
Rhoads of the lifeguard who was thereon next to the general in the
street, but doing neither him nor the general any hurt. There were
taken in the town about 600 prisoners besides officers, great store of
arms (the lanes and fields being bestrewn with them), all their foot
were scattered, their horse fled that night towards Cornwall in great
confusion: the prisoners we took confessed they had about 4,000 foot
and 4,000 horse at least; the service was very hot, we had many
wounded, it was stoutly maintained on both sides for the time.

From other sources we learn that the main body of the Royalist Horse was stationed at the end of the barricade on the north side of the town, and the Prince’s Guards were in the Castle Green. The word for the night was, “We are with you,” and the signal was a handkerchief tied round the right arm. The word for the night of the Parliamentarian Army was, “Emmanuel, God with us,” and each man carried a sprig of furze in his hat.

Fairfax himself also gives a detailed account of the affair in a letter to the Speaker of the House of Commons, in which he says:—

Accordingly on Monday morning I drew out the army to an early
rendezvous at Ring-Ash, within six miles of the enemy; the weather
still continued very wet and so by all signs was like to hold till we
advanced from the rendezvous; but suddenly, when we were upon march,
it, beyond all expectation, began to be fair and dry, and so continued
whereas we had scarce seen one fair blast for many days before. The
enemy (as we understood by the way), had all their horses drawn
together about Torrington, and with their foot prepared to defend the
town, which they had fortified with good barricadoes of earth cast up
at every avenue, and a competent line patched up round about it, their
horse standing by to flank the same, and some within to scour the
streets. Our forlorn hope had order to advance to Stephenson-park,
about a mile from the town, and there to stay for the drawing up of
the army, there being no other place fit for that purpose nearer to
the town on that side we came on. But when we came near we understood
that the enemy had with 200 dragoons possessed the house in the park,
and were fortifying it, being of itself very strong, but upon our
nearer approach their dragoons quitted the house, and our forlorn hope
falling on them took many prisoners and pursuing them near the town
were engaged so far as they could not well draw back to the park which
occasioned to sending up of stronger parties to make them good where
they were, or bring them off; and at last there being some fear that
the enemy would draw about them and hem them in, Colonel Hammond was
sent up with three regiments of foot, being his own, Colonel Harlow’s,
and mine, and some more horse to lie for reserves unto them, by which
time the night was grown on so that it was not thought fit unless the
enemy appeared to be drawing away to attempt anything further upon the
town till morning, in regard none of us knew the ground nor the
advantages or disadvantages of it; but about nine of the clock, there
being some apprehension of the enemy’s drawing away, by reason of
their drawing back some outguards, small parties were sent out towards
the town’s end to make a certain discovery which going very near their
works before the enemy made any firing, but being at last entertained
with a great volley of shot and thereupon supposed to be engaged,
stronger parties were sent up to relieve them, and after them the
three regiments went up for reserves, till at last they fell on in
earnest. After very hot firings, our men coming up to the barricadoes
and line, the dispute continued long at push of pike and with
butt-ends of muskets till at last it pleased God to make the enemy fly
from their works, and give our men the entrance; after which our men
were twice repulsed by their horse and almost all driven out again,
but colonel Hammond, with some other officers and a few soldiers, made
a stop at the barricadoes, and, so making good their re-entrance,
rallied their men, and went on again, major Stephens with their
forlorn hope of horse coming seasonably up to second them: the enemy’s
foot ran several ways, most of them leaving their arms, but most of
their officers, with the assistance of horse, made good their own
retreat out of the town towards the bridge, and taking the advantage
of strait passages, to make often stands against our men, gave time
for many of their foot to get over the bridge; their horse without the
town, after some attempts at other avenues to have broken in again
upon us, being repulsed, at last went all away over another bridge,
and at several other passes of the river, and all fell westward; the
ground where their horse had stood and the bridge they went over lying
so beyond the town, as our horse could not come at them but through
the town, which, by reason of strait passages through several
barricadoes, was very tedious, by means whereof, and by reason of
continued strait lanes the enemy had to retreat by, after they were
over the river, as also by the advantage of the night, and by their
perfect knowledge of the country and our ignorance therein, our horse
could do little execution upon the pursuit, but parties being sent out
several ways to follow them, as those disadvantages would admit, did
the best they could, and brought back many prisoners and horses. We
took many prisoners in the town, who, being put into the church where
the enemy’s magazine lay, of above fourscore barrels of powder, as is
reported, besides other ammunition either purposely by some desperate
prisoner, or casually by some soldier, the powder was fired, whereby
the church was quite blown up, the prisoners and most of our men that
guarded them were killed and overwhelmed in the ruins; the houses of
the town shaken and shattered, and our men all the town over much
endangered by the stones, timber, and lead, which with the blast were
carried up very high, and scattered in great abundance all the town
over and beyond; yet it pleased God that few of our men were slain or
hurt thereby, save those in the church only, our loss of men otherwise
in this service was small, though many wounded, it being a hotter
service than any storm this army hath before been upon, wherein God
gave our men great resolution; and colonel Hammond especially, and
other officers engaged with him, behaved themselves with much
resolution, courage and diligence, recovering the ground after their
men were twice repulsed; of prisoners taken in this service about 200
were blown up, 200 have taken up arms with us, and about 200 more
common soldiers remain prisoners: besides many officers, gentlemen,
and servants, not many slain, but their foot so dispersed as that of
about 3,000, which the most credible persons do affirm they had there,
and we find, by a list taken among the lord Hopton’s papers,
themselves did account them more, we cannot hear of above 400 that
they carried off with them into Cornwall, whither their horse also are
gone, being much broken and dispersed as well as their foot. By the
considerations and circumstances in this business which I have here
touched upon, you will perceive whose hand it was that led us to it,
and gave such success in it, and truly there were many more evident
appearances of the good hand of God therein than I can set forth: let
all the honour be to Him alone for ever.

A letter of John Rushworth, the Secretary to Fairfax, written at Torrington on the 22nd of February, 1645–6, states that:—

The other day, being the market day, Master Peters preacht unto the
country people and souldiers in Torrington (the Church being blown up)
he was forced to preach out of a belcony, where the audience was
great: he made a great impression upon the hearts of the people.

This was the celebrated Hugh Peters, the Puritan preacher, who attended the army in its journeyings.

The following curious certificate is given in the preface to a work by the Rev. John Heydon, dedicated to Sir Thomas Fairfax, the title page of which reads:—

The Discovery of the wonderfull preservation of his Excellencie Sir
Thomas Fairfax, The Army, the Records of the Town, the Library, and
blessed Bible, under the hands of the Maior, Aldermen, Capt. and
Schoolmaster of Torrington in Devon. In an Epistle to his Excellency
(and also in the end of a Book, entituled, _Man’s Badnesse and God’s
Goodnesse_: or, some Gospel Truths laid down, vindicated and
explained), by his Excellencies speciall Command. Never Printed
heretofore by any. By John Heydon, Minister of the Gospel. London,
Printed by M. Simmons, 1647.

The certificate runs:—

We whose names are here subscribed do testifie, that when the Publick
place of God’s worship was blown up by a hellish plot, and his
Excellency was wonderfully preserved, there fell out by Divine
Providence, that which we look upon as _mira non mirabilia_, viz.,
though both the Books of Common Prayer were blown up or burnt, yet the
blessed Bible was preserved and not obliterated, although it were
blown away; and also the Library, and the books, together with the
Records of the Town were wonderfully preserved: I do testifie, John
Voysey, Maior. We also testifie, Richard Gay, William White Capt.,
John Ward, Henry Semor Schoolmaster, and John Heydon Minister of the
Gospel. And I shall be ready to shew the Originall to whomsoever
desires it, and craves condigne punishment if the Originall be
adulterated.

Further on Mr. Heydon says:—

Now the Lord confirm you in the true grace of God wherein you stand,
and make you more instrumentall to the Kingdom and Nations that are
Christian the world over, and make you a leading peece to all Generals
that now are, or shall be here after, and move your heart to pity the
Town of Torrington, and as much as in you lyes, to erect a publick
Place for God’s worship there, upon the Publique Stock; the people
being poore, yet those that are Christian, both Magistrates and
Commanders, that have little incouragement from those that they have
adventured their lives for, and expended their estates, for their
safety; the Lord put better hearts into them I say, those are
thankefull to God, and have gladly received those that would impart
the Gospel to them, and keep dayes of Thanksgiving, etc., for so great
a deliverance, and though they stand in the open streets, neither cold
nor rain can deter them from it; they being true Eagles will feed on
the carkasse Christ in the Gospel purely preach’t, as Mr. Peters and
divers of the Army can witnesse, and their own testimony for my self
annexed, that spent a day by way of Thanksgiving since my being under
the Command of Coll. Henry Gray, as it follows word for word in their
Certificate annexed, the 20. Decemb. 1646: This day Mr. John Heyden
Chaplain to the Honorable Coll. Gray, did powerfully preach the Gospel
of Jesus Christ in Torrington magna, to the great comfort and
incouragement of that great audience which were present.—John Voysey
Maior, Richard Gay, John Harwood, John Ward, William White, and Henry
Semor.

The blowing up of the Church of Great Torrington is recorded on two stones built into the walls of the south transept. The inscriptions on these stones run as follows:—

This Chvrch was blowen up with Powder Febry ye 16^{th} ano 1645 and
rebuilt A^d 1651;

and

This Church was re-erected ano Domini 1651.

Under the date of February, 1645, there is this entry in the Register of Burials:—

There have bin buried the 16th 17th 18th 19th and 20th 21st dayes 63
soldyers;

and other entries appear in July and August of the same year of interments of soldiers.

In the _Journal of the House of Lords_ (Vol. x., 318) is the following entry respecting the re-building of the Church:—

_10 June 1648_ _Ordered_, By the Lords and Commons assembled in
Parliament, That a Grant be prepared, and that the Commissioners of
the Great Seal be hereby authorized and required to pass the same
under the Great Seal, to the Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council, of
the Town of _Greate Torrington_, in the County of _Devon_, for a
General Collection of the Charity of well-disposed People, through all
the Counties of _England_ and Dominion of _Wales_ for Reparation of
the Great Church of the said Town, which was utterly demolished by the
Enemies Firing thereof with their Magazine of Powder, to the Value of
Six Thousand Pounds at least; which the Inhabitants, by reason of the
Miseries of the late War, and Ruin of the said Town, are no Way able
to repair.

The only external part of the Church which appears to have escaped is the vestry, though a few of the piers and arches at the east end seem to be in their original condition, and perhaps also the arch of the north transept.

GEORGE M. DOE.

HERRICK AND DEAN PRIOR.

BY F. H. COLSON, M.A.

The little village of Dean Prior, five miles from Brent on the high road from Plymouth to Ashburton, is indissolubly associated with the name of one of the greatest of our lyric poets; a poet, indeed, who has a certain touch and power which is quite unique in English poetry. Robert Herrick was vicar of this parish for about thirty-two years. The main facts of his life may be very shortly told. Born in London in 1591, he was educated at St. John’s College and Trinity Hall, Cambridge. He spent the earlier part of his life, after taking his degree, probably partly in Cambridge and partly in London. It was not till 1629, when he was thirty-eight years old, that he was ordained and presented to Dean Prior. Here he remained till 1648, when he was ejected, and a certain John Syms, a Puritan of some fame and worth, established in his place. Herrick went to London and there published his two books of verse, _Hesperides_ and _Noble Numbers_. In 1662 he was sent back to his living, and there spent the remainder of his days. He died and was buried in the churchyard of Dean Prior in 1674.

There is not much in this little parish at the present day to remind one of Herrick. The vicarage is probably an enlargement of the poet’s house. The newer part stands on a somewhat higher level than the old, and this last is probably the “cell,” whose humble comforts Herrick extols in one of his most true and charming pieces. The present vicar, Mr. Perry-Keene, who is himself something of a poet, and knows and loves well his great predecessor, showed me what he believes to be Herrick’s “byn.”

Just opposite the Vicarage stands the Church, which Mr. Perry-Keene tells me has been altered a great deal. It now contains a monument to Herrick erected in 1857 by a remote kinsman, Mr. William Perry Herrick.

Opposite this recent memorial, in the south aisle, stands a far more interesting monument. It is a brass with three figures—husband, wife, and son—but no name or inscription which might give a clue to the name is legible. Underneath it, however, run the following verses:—

No trust to metals nor to marbles, when
These have their fate and wear away as men.
Times, Titles, Trophies may be lost and spent,
But virtue rears the eternal monument.

What more than these can Tombs or Tomb-stones pay?
But here’s the sunset of a tedious day.
These two asleep are: I’ll but be undrest,
And so to Bed, Pray wish us all good rest.

This beautiful and interesting epitaph is printed by Mr. Grosart in his fine edition of Herrick, as being indisputably the work of the poet. Mr. Grosart also states positively that the figures on the monument are those of Sir Edward and Lady Giles, of whom the former died at Dean Court in 1637. Mr. Grosart speaks on these points with such certainty that I was surprised to find that the external evidence for both statements is absolutely nil. As a matter of fact, the monument itself hardly appears to belong to Herrick’s time. Mr. Perry-Keene’s opinion is (and I confess that my own very slight knowledge of such subjects would have led me to the same conclusion) that the figures are Elizabethan rather than Caroline. It seems, therefore, hardly safe to print the inscription as being _undoubtedly_ Herrick’s work. At the same time I do believe that the lines are Herrick’s. There is a very distinct Herrickian ring about them, particularly about the last three, which to my mind is almost unmistakeable. Observe the phrase “I’ll but be undrest.” It borders on the grotesque; in almost any other poet’s hand it would have been grotesque. In his hand it acquires a certain beautiful quaintness, becomes what Herrick himself calls a “phrase of the royal blood.” I commend this charming epitaph, therefore, to the reader as the one existing memorial which connects Dean Prior with Herrick, though I think he should at the same time be cautioned, that the ascription of the lines to the poet is based solely on internal evidence.

About a mile from the Church stands Dean Court, now a farm-house, in Herrick’s time a manor house, and occupied during his incumbency by the above-mentioned Sir Edward Giles, and afterwards by the Yardes. To-day it looks what it is, and unless there has been considerable alteration and demolition, it seems a poor house for such important families.

A charming village is Dean Prior, as indeed are all the villages on the outskirts of Dartmoor. No wonder that essayists on, and editors of, Herrick have traced his freshness and quaintness to the simplicity of a West Country parish, and that the perfume of flowers which pervades his pages almost _ad nauseam_ seems to his readers to be inspired by the soft and luxurious air of Devonshire. In a word, Herrick’s _Hesperides_ has seemed to be the work of a Devonshire man drawing his inspiration from Devonshire, as Barnes from Dorset or Burns from Ayrshire.

I am bound, however, to say that I believe this to be true only with considerable limitations. Generally speaking, I hold that while the _Noble Numbers_ do undoubtedly belong to the Dean Prior period, the same cannot be said with equal certainty of the _Hesperides_, or at least of that part of the _Hesperides_ which has given Herrick his immortality. The book contains, no doubt, several pieces, perhaps some sixty in all, which are shewn by internal evidence to have been written later than 1628, but of these, few, if any, are of special merit. The real Apples of the Golden Garden are practically undated.

Now we must remember that not only was Herrick thirty-eight when he went to Devonshire, an age at which many poets have produced their best work, but that he hated, or, to use his own oft-repeated expression, “loathed” Devonshire. This hatred is expressed in numerous passages. The following, written at the time of his ejection from the living, may serve as a specimen:—

First let us dwell in widest seas,
Next with severest savages,
Last let us make our best abode
Where human foot as yet ne’er trod.
Search worlds of ice and rather there
Live than in loathèd Devonshire.

“No bird,” says Plato, “sings when it is cold or hungry or suffering any pain,” and it is a natural inference from passages like this of Herrick’s that his native genius suffered rather than gained from his sojourn at Dean Prior. But on this point he has left us his own testimony in two important passages. The first runs thus:—

Before I went
In banishment
Into the loathèd West,
I could rehearse
A lyric verse,
And speak it with the best.

The second is—

More discontents I never had
Since I was born than here,
Where I have been and still am sad,
In this dull Devonshire.
Yet justly too I must confess
I ne’er invented such
Ennobled numbers for the press
As where I loathed so much.

At first sight these two passages seem contradictory, but the contradiction vanishes when we remember that Herrick’s book of sacred poems is called _Noble Numbers_. To these and these only, as it seems to me, the “ennobled numbers” of the second passage refers, and the plain meaning of these lines is that Herrick, as vicar of Dean Prior, felt his old powers of song-making gone, and gave his attention mainly to sacred poetry.

To the same conclusion point some lines in the “Farewell to Poetry,” written probably when he took orders:—

I my desires screw from thee, and direct
Them and my thoughts to that sublime respect
And conscience unto priesthood.

But he adds:—

When my diviner muse
Shall want a handmaid as she oft will use,
Be ready then for me to wait upon her,
Though as a servant, yet a maid of honour.

I do not of course suggest that all this is to be taken quite literally, or that we are to affirm positively that all Herrick’s best lyrics date from an earlier period; but that it is generally true I see no reason to doubt, more especially as in the many hundred lyrics which

Sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds and flowers,
Of April, May and June, and July flowers,

there is, so far as I can see, little or no trace of Devonshire.

The great poets—whom Herrick looked on as his masters—Catullus and Horace, understood the magic of a name, and were fond of grouping their best thoughts round the names of the particular spots which they knew. Anyone who reads Catullus’s lines on Sirmio, or Horace’s on Tivoli, anyone, we may add, who knows Burns, or Wordsworth, or Scott, will feel the significance of the fact that Herrick only once mentions by name any place in Devonshire. It is not that he dislikes localising, for he lingers affectionately enough over the names of

Richmond, Kingston, and of Hampton Court.

And on the one occasion, when a Devonshire scene is described by name, it is in the following lines on “Dean, a rude river in Devon, by which he sometimes dwelt”:—

Dean Bourn, farewell! I never look to see
Dean, or thy watry incivility.

The reader of Herrick will remember that he goes on to say that the “currish, churlish” people of Dean are as rocky as their river. Herrick could hardly be expected to admire Dartmoor itself. The love of moor and mountain hardly existed in his time; but the glen of Dean Bourne is a different thing, and surely nothing but invincible prejudice can have made Herrick describe it in such “currish and churlish” terms.

Herrick is _par excellence_ the poet of flowers and fruits. Cherries, cowslips, daffodils, and primroses are inseparably connected with his verse. That the rich luxuriance of Dean Prior must have been a source of continual pleasure to him we cannot doubt. Yet even in this department of nature one misses local touches. Where are the high hedgerows, the ferns, and the fox-gloves? and where are the apple orchards of Devon?

Herrick was very fond of observing village festivities and studying folk-lore, and it is generally assumed that the poems which deal with these subjects were written in Devonshire and based on Devonshire observations. This may be so, though I do not know of any evidence in favour of it. On the other hand there is one small circumstance which seems to me significant. In Herrick’s descriptions of barley-breaks, harvest homes, and Christmas festivities, there is much mention of beer but none of cider. Cider making had its poetry for Keats:—

Or by a cider-press with patient look
Thou watchest the last oozings hour by hour.

It seems strange that it should never be mentioned by the poet of cider-land.

One of Herrick’s parishioners stands out pleasantly in the pages of _Hesperides_—“my Prue,” otherwise Prudence Baldwin, the house-keeper, who apparently followed him to London at his ejection and returned with him in 1662. It is generally assumed that the persons attacked in the epigrams were parishioners. If so, no wonder they were churlish. It does not appear that many of the fifty or sixty persons addressed in what Mr. Grosart calls “verse-celebrations,” were West-Country people, and on the whole there is as little of local life as of local scenery in the _Hesperides_.

The critics, then, seem to me perverse, who, in spite of Herrick’s assurances, declare that he only pretended to dislike Dean Prior. They rely, presumably, on his keen eye for country beauties. Now I venture to doubt whether Herrick, as we see him in the _Hesperides_, is one of the real nature-poets. He knows and loves certain aspects of nature, more particularly fruits and flowers, bright colours and sweet smells. Even amongst these he is often happiest when he can trace some likeness to human beauty. The famous “Cherries ripe” grew on Julia’s lips, not in an orchard. Above all poets he understands the picturesqueness of dress, and when after a catalogue of Julia’s silks and laces in their “wild civility” he confesses that he dotes less on nature than on art, he probably speaks the truth. It is the same with country life; he has none of the deep respect for the peasant’s healthy and thrifty life, which lies at the bottom of Virgil and Horace and Wordsworth’s work. He has plenty of interest in their May-days and other merry-making, but little, I think, in their life as a whole. And the few praises of country life to be found in the _Hesperides_ do not seem to me to ring very true.

If, then, I read Herrick’s life at Dean Prior aright, he is not the genial parson, moving light-heartedly among the people, drinking in the soft air of Devonshire and pouring it out in spontaneous song, passing from his sermon to the Maypole, blending Paganism with Christianity and ribaldry with religion, without sense of harm or incongruity—writing, in fact, the _Hesperides_ on weekdays and the _Noble Numbers_ on Sundays. Rather it was by the Cam and the Thames that he imbibed his inspiration, made love to his half-imaginary mistresses, and learnt—

How roses first grew red and lilies white.

In Devonshire he is a changed man, sobered partly by isolation and partly by clerical responsibility. He has, no doubt, his light-hearted and even wanton moods, and often writes poetry in the old vein; but he feels that the old lyrical effusiveness is going or gone, and finds his main occupation in writing sacred poetry.

At any rate he did not write gross or indecent verse during this period. This all too plentiful element of the _Hesperides_ need not be fathered on Dean Prior. He himself calls it—

Unbaptised rhymes
Writ in my wild, unhallowed times.

There is surely no reason why these words should not be taken in their literal sense, which is that they were written in Herrick’s youth and before he took orders, and the pilgrim to Dean Prior need not harrow his imagination with the revolting picture of this elderly bachelor sitting in the little vicarage spinning out these miserable and often pointless indecencies. No doubt it may be asked why, if these were poems of Herrick’s youth, condemned by his better judgment, he published them in 1648. Two answers may be given to this question, though I do not say that either of them is an excuse. In the first place he had been turned out of his living and probably wanted money. In the second place, the fact that he describes himself on the title page as Robert Herrick, Esq., seems to indicate that he considered his clerical profession had gone with his incumbency, and if so, he very probably had deluded himself into the idea that clerical responsibility had gone also.

I will devote the rest of my allotted space to a few remarks on that part of Herrick’s work which undoubtedly belongs to the Dean Prior period. I mean the “pious pieces,” or _Noble Numbers_. Now it is not to be denied that there is a great deal of poor stuff in the _Noble Numbers_. Nobody is likely to care much for the metrical creeds, or the tawdry and sensuous poems on the Nativity or Passion. Still the little book contains some pieces which English literature could ill spare. There is, for instance, the strange and, indeed, startling “litany to the Holy Spirit.” This hymn is actually included in one at least of our popular hymn-books, and I have sometimes heard parts of it sung in a village church. I wonder what the congregation would have thought of these two stanzas, which, needless to say, are not to be found in the hymn-book version:—

When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but in his fees
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When his Potion and his Pill
Has or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing but to kill,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

Probably they would be greatly shocked, and indeed everyone must admit that the stanzas show a certain strange devilry mixing itself with Herrick’s most reverent thoughts. At the same time, I do not think there is any real or intentional irreverence in them. There is one stanza in the “Litany” which has, I think, a personal interest:—

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drowned in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

Now compare this with the following:—

Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep,
And time seems then not for to flie but creep.
. . . . . .
Just so it is with me who listening pray
The winds to blow the tedious night away.

And again—

Through all the night
Thou dost me fright,
And holdst mine eyes from sleeping.

I infer from these that Herrick suffered much from sleeplessness, and if so, may we not with considerable probability trace the genesis of this celebrated litany to some sleepless nights in the little vicarage of Dean Prior?

Again it is to the _Noble Numbers_ that we owe the beautiful “Lord, Thou hast given me a cell.” Familiar as this poem is, it is only a just tribute to Dean Prior that these sweet praises of its simple plenty should be set down here.

A THANKSGIVING TO GOD FOR HIS HOUSE.

Lord, Thou hast given me a cell
Wherein to dwell;
A little house, whose humble roof
Is weather-proof;
Under the sparres of which I lie
Both soft and drie;
Where Thou my chamber for to ward
Has set a guard
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Me while I sleep.
Low is my porch, as is my Fate,
Both void of state;
And yet the threshold of my doore
Is worn by th’ poore,
Who thither come, and freely get
Good words or meat.
Like as my Parlour, so my hall
And Kitchen’s small:
A little Buttery, and therein
A little Byn
Which keeps my little Loafe of Bread
Unchipt, unflead:
Some little sticks of Thorne or Briar
Making a fire,
Close by whose living fire I sit
And glow like it.
Lord, I confess too, when I dine,
The Pulse is Thine,
And all those other bits, that bee
There plac’d by Thee;
The Worts, the Purslaine, and the Messe
Of Water-cresse,
Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent;
And my content
Makes those, and my beloved Beet
To be more sweet.
’Tis thou that crownst my glittering Hearth
With guiltlesse mirth;
And giv’st me Wassaile Bowles to drink,
Spic’d to the brink.
Lord,’tis Thy plenty-dropping Hand
That soiles my land;
And giv’st me, for my Bushell sowne,
Twice ten for one:
Thou mak’st my teaming Hen to lay
Her egg each day:
Besides my healthful Ewes to beare
Me twins each year.
The while the conduits of my kine
Run creame (for Wine).
All these, and better Thou doest send
Me, to this end,
That I should render, for my part,
A thankful heart,
Which, fired with incense, I resigne,
As wholly Thine;
But the acceptance, that must be,
My Christ to Thee.

And now let me ask the reader to note the following triplet, which occurs in a Christmas Anthem in _Noble Numbers_:—

We see Him come and know Him ours,
Who with His sunshine and His showers
Turns all the patient earth to flowers.

I think if we compare these two poems, which embody Herrick’s attitude to nature and country life during the Dean Prior period, with some of the earlier (as I think) lyrics in the _Hesperides_, we shall feel that if Dean Prior took something from him, it also gave him something. Compare them, for instance, with “Fair Daffodils, we weep to see,” or the song to “Meddows,” which begins “Ye have been fresh and green.” These last are beautiful fancies, among the most beautiful in our language, but they have not the depth or fulness of feeling which the triplet has. _That_ breathes the spirit of the true lover of rural life, and so it seems to me that if Herrick, in this little out-of-the-way village, felt the lyric power gone, if the “fairy fancies” no longer “ranged” or “lightly stirred” as before, on the other hand, something of the peace of a country village, something of the peace which Wordsworth felt two centuries later, had descended upon him.

Finally, let me call the reader’s attention to the two “Graces for little children,” also to be found in _Noble Numbers_:—

Here a little child I stand,
Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee
For a Benison to fall
On our meat and on us all.

And again—

What God gives and what we take,
’Tis a gift for Christ His sake;
Be the meal of beans and pease,
God be thanked for those and these.
Have we flesh or have we fish,
All are fragments from His dish.
He His Church save and the King,
And our peace here like a spring
Send it ever flourishing.

If I may indulge in a little fancy, I should say that this last was written for some small Dean Prior “maid”; written on one of those delicious balmy days which a Devonshire spring sometimes, though not, alas! always, brings; written during the first half of Herrick’s first incumbency, when peace still “flourished” at Dean Prior, though perhaps the shadows of the coming trouble were not unfelt by those who could read the signs of the times. Both these “Graces” always seem to me to have a peculiar charm and freshness, and even by themselves they would go far to justify the view that has been maintained in this essay, that Herrick’s genius, if hampered and enfeebled in some ways, was in other ways matured and mellowed by his sojourn in “dull Devonshire.”

The following passage, which is an extract from an article in the _Quarterly_ of August, 1809, by Mr. Barron Field, may be of some interest:—

Being in Devonshire during the last summer, we took an opportunity of
visiting Dean Prior for the purpose of making some inquiries
concerning Herrick, who, from the circumstance of having been vicar of
that parish (where he is still talked of as a poet, a wit, and a hater
of the county) for twenty years, might be supposed to have left some
unrecorded memorials of his existence behind him. We found many
persons in the village who could repeat some of his lines, and none
who were not acquainted with his "Farewell to Dean Bourn"—

“Dean Bourn, farewell; I never look to see
Dean, or thy watry incivility,”

which, they said, he uttered as he crossed the brook upon being
ejected by Cromwell from the Vicarage, to which he had been presented
by Charles I. “But,” they added, with an air of innocent triumph, “he
did see it again,” as was the fact after the Restoration. And, indeed,
although he calls Devonshire “dull,” yet as he admits, at the same
time, that “he never invented such ennobled numbers for the press as
in that loathed spot,” the good people of Dean Prior have not much
reason to be dissatisfied.

The person, however, who knows more of Herrick than all the rest of
the neighbourhood, we found to be a poor woman in the ninety-ninth
year of her age, named Dorothy King. She repeated to us, with great
exactness, five of his _Noble Numbers_, among which was the beautiful
Litany quoted above. These she had learned from her mother, who was
apprenticed to Herrick’s successor in the vicarage. She called them
her prayers, which, she said, she was in the habit of putting up in
bed whenever she could not sleep, and she therefore began the Litany
at the second stanza, “When I lie within my bed,” etc. Another of her
midnight orisons was the poem beginning—

“Every night thou does me fright,
And keep mine eyes from sleeping,” etc.

She had no idea that these poems had ever been printed, and could not
have read them if she had seen them. She is in possession of few
traditions as to the person, manners, and habits of life of the poet,
but in return she has a whole budget of anecdotes respecting his
ghost, and these she details with a careless but serene gravity which
one would not willingly discompose by any hints at a remote
possibility of their not being exactly true. Herrick, she says, was a
bachelor, and kept a maid-servant, as his poems, indeed, discover; but
she adds, what they do not discover, that he also kept a pet pig,
which he taught to drink out of a tankard. And this important
circumstance, together with a tradition that he one day threw his
sermon at the congregation, with a curse for their inattention, forms
almost the sum total of what we could collect of the poet’s life.

F. H. COLSON.

_From a Painting by T. Stothard, R.A._] [_Engraved by George Noble._
THE LANDING OF WILLIAM III. AT TORBAY.

]

THE LANDING OF THE PRINCE OF
ORANGE AT BRIXHAM, 1688.

BY THE LATE T. W. WINDEATT.

The landing of the Prince of Orange—the Prince who "saved England"—on the shores of Devon in 1688, must always be a matter of interest. The subject has been dealt with by Macaulay and other historians with more or less detail. I certainly should not, therefore, have ventured on the subject myself had it not been for the fact of having had placed in my hands, through the courtesy of Mr. J. B. Davidson, of Secktor, a somewhat rare pamphlet, containing many interesting facts not noted in the papers referred to by Mr. Pengelly, and from my being the repository of some local anecdotes worth preserving.

The pamphlet I have referred to is entitled, “An Exact Diary of the late Expedition of His Illustrious Highness The Prince of Orange (now King of Great Britain), from his Palace at the Hague to his Landing at Torbay, and from thence to his arrival at Whitehall. Giving a particular account of all that happened and every Day’s March. By a Minister Chaplain in the Army.” It consists of seventy-three pages, was printed for Richard Baldwin, near the Black Bull, in the Old Bailey, in 1689, licensed April 23rd, 1689. It is dedicated to the Earls of Bedford and Portland, Viscount Sidney of Sheppy, and Sir John Maynard, one of the Lords Commissioners of the Great Seal; and from the Dedication it appears that the writer was one “John Whittle.”

This Sir John Maynard was at this time Recorder for this borough, and member for the borough during the Long Parliament. He was a very able lawyer, and at this time near ninety. It is related of him that when he came “with the men of the law” to welcome the Prince, the latter took notice of his great age, and said that he had outlived all the men of the law of his time. Whereupon Maynard replied, he had like to have outlived the law itself if his Highness had not come over.

That this pamphlet is genuine, and was written by an English clergyman who accompanied the expedition throughout, there is strong internal evidence; and Macaulay cites it as one of the authorities for several of his statements with reference to the expedition, though he does not quote largely from it.

In this diary or, more strictly, narrative, which enters more fully into particulars than the other pamphlets, Mr. Whittle gives a graphic account of the arrangements for, and the departure of, the expedition, the storm which sent it back again, its refitting, second departure, and safe (if not miraculous) arrival in Torbay, of all of which the writer was evidently an eye-witness.

The number of our capital ships or men-of-war was about fifty, which
were very well rig’d, mann’d, and provided with all things requisite;
the number of our fire-ships was about five and twenty; lesser
Men-of-war or Frigats about six and twenty; the number of Merchant
Ships, Pinks, Fly-boats and others was about three hundred and odd; so
the total number of the Fleet as they sailed from the Brill was about
four hundred and odd ships. But at our setting out the second time, at
Hellevort-Sluys, there were near an hundred vessels more, which were
Schievelingers or Boats which the Fisher-men of Schieveling went to
sea in.

Whittle gives the following account of the final departure of the expedition:—

Upon Thursday, Novemb. 1, Old Stile, Novemb. 11, New Stile, after the
Prince of Orange had din’^d with all English, Dutch, Scotch, and
French Lords, Knights and Gentlemen attending his Sacred Person, about
three or four of clock in the afternoon, he went on board a new vessel
of about Twenty-eight Guns, with the Rotterdam’s Admiral call’d the
Brill, as some will have it, and being now in his Cabin, fired, for to
give notice unto all the Fleet to weigh their anchors and make Sail,
which was accordingly done by every Ship with all possible expedition.
The whole Fleet was divided into three Squadrons; the Red Flag was for
the English and Scotch, commanded by Major-General Mackay; the White
Flag was for the Prince’s Guards and the Brandenburghers, commanded by
Count Solms; the Blew Flag was for the Dutch and French, commanded by
Count Nassau. Now every Ship had a certain Mark, or Token, that it
might be known unto what Squadron she belong^d.

So once more the whole Fleet (thro’ God’s blessing) was under sail for
England, with a very favourable East Wind. The darkness coming on us,
all the Ships set out their Lights, which was very pleasant to see,
and the Ship in which the Prince of Orange was, had three Lanthorns,
the Men of War two, and each other Ship one.

Whittle brings the fleet to the English shores, and thus continues:—

On the morrow-morning, being the Lord’s day, Novemb. 4, Old Stile,
which was the happy Birthday of his thrice Illustrious Highness, the
Prince of Orange; most men were of opinion that we should land either
in the Isle of Wight, Portsmouth, or some other convenient place,
about which matter they were much mistaken, for the Prince of Orange
did not sail, but observe the duty of the day; so all were driven of
the Waves. Prayers and Sermon being done, he went to Dinner with some
Nobles attending him, and about Four of Clock in the afternoon made
sail, all the whole Fleet following the example of his ship; now every
Schipper endeavour’d for to keep sight of the three Lanthorns or
Admiral of Rotterdam’s Ship for the sake of his Highness therein. The
darkness shutting upon us all our Lights were set out as before.

Whittle then brings us down to the morning of Monday, the 5th of November, and proceeds as follows:—