Chapter VII: Part 7

So when the day began to dawn, we found that we were very near the
English Shore, but whereabout we could not yet tell. The Ship in which
the Prince of Orange was sailed so near the Shore that with much
facility a man might cast a stone on the Land; we were driven very
slowly, all our Sails being struck. The morning was very obscure with
the Fog and Mist, and withal it was so calm that the Vessels now as
’twere touch’d each other, every Ship coming as near unto the Ship
wherein the Prince of Orange was as the Schipper thereof would permit
them. Here we were moving for a while very slowly by the Shore, and
could see all the Rocks there abouts very plain. We perceived that we
should land thereabout, but no place near was commodious for either
Men or Horses, it being a steep Rock to march up. The Ships did all
observe the motion of the three Lanthorns, which were driven by the
Coast of England back again, for we had sailed somewhat beyond Torbay.
And being thus calm’d for a while, it afterwards pleased the God of
Heaven, that He gave us a West or Westerly Wind, which was the only
Wind that could blow to bring us safe into the Bay; for even to this
place we had an East and South-East Wind, which was indeed a good Wind
to bring us from Holland, and along all the Channel, but not to carry
us into the Bay, there were so many Rocks and Shelves on that side.
Making some Sail again, his Highness the Prince of Orange gave order
that his Standard should be put up, and accordingly it was done, the
White Flag being put uppermost, signifying his most gracious offer of
Peace unto all such as would live peaceably: And under that the Red or
Bloody Flag was set up, signifying War unto all such as did oppose his
just Designs. The Sun recovering strength soon dissipated the Fog, and
dispers’d the Mist, insomuch that it prov’d a very pleasant Day. Now
every Vessel set out its Colours, which made a very pleasant show. By
this time the People of Devonshire thereabout had discovered the
Fleet, the one telling the other thereof; they came flocking in droves
to the side or brow of the Hills to view us: Some guess’d we were
French, because they saw divers White Flags; but the Standard of the
Prince, the Motto of which was, For the Protestant Religion and
Liberty, soon undeceived them.

Others more discreet said, that it was the Dutch Fleet so much talk’d
of in the Nation, and so long expected by most people. This Day was
very remarkable in England before, being the fifth of November, the
Bells were ringing as we were sailing towards the Bay, and as we
landed, which many judged to be a good Omen: before we came into the
Bay’s mouth, as we were near the Rocks, the People ran from Place to
Place after us; and we being so near as to see and discern the Habit
of the Country People, and they able to see us and hear our voices, a
certain Minister in the Fleet, on board the Ship called the Golden
Sun, went up to the top of the uppermost Cabin, where the Colours hang
out, a Place where he could easily behold all the people on the Shore,
and where they might most perfectly see him, and pulling a Bible out
of his Pocket, he opened it, and held it so in his right Hand, making
many flourishes with it unto the People, whose Eyes were fix’^d on
him, and duly observ’d him, thereby signifying to the People the
flourishing of the Holy Gospel (by God’s Blessing upon the Prince of
Orange’s Endeavours), and calling out as loud as he was able, said
unto them on the top of the Rock: For the Protestant Religion, and
maintaining of the Gospel in the Truth and Purity thereof, are we all
by the Goodness and Providence of God come hither, after so many
storms and Tempests. Moreover, said he, it is the Prince of Orange
that’s come, a Zealous Defender of that Faith which is truly Ancient,
Catholic, and Apostolical, who is the Supream Governour of this very
great and fomidable Fleet. Whereupon all the People shouted for Joy,
and Huzzas did now echo into the Air, many amongst them throwing up
their Hats, and all making signs with their Hands. So after the
Minister had given them some Salutations, and they returned him the
same again, he came down from off the upper Deck, unto the vulgar one
among his Acquaintance, who spoke to him about the People on the brow
or side of the mountain.

The bells were evidently ringing for the 5th of November, and I find that the bells of the parish church of Brixham are still rung on that day, but I apprehend that the custom has been continued in commemoration of the landing of the Prince.

All who know Brixham, even in its present populous condition, can corroborate the accuracy of Whittle’s description of the coast, and recognize his felicitous expression of the people on shore being “on the brow of the mountain.”

Whittle proceeds as follows:—

The Prince of Orange being come into the middle of the Bay, called
Torbay, attended with three or four Men of War only, that is to say,
one or two sailing before his Vessel, and one on each side the Ship in
which he was; and all the Merchant Ships, Pinks and Fly-boats coming
round him, as near as they durst for safety, the rest of the Men of
War being out in the Rear to secure all the little Pinks and
Fly-boats, and withal to prevent the English Fleet from disturbing us
in our Landing.

At the upper end of Torbay there is a fair House, belonging to one Mr.
Carey, a very rigid Papist, who entertained a Priest in his House.
This Priest going to recreate himself on the Leads, on the top
thereof, it being a most delightsome day, as he was walking there he
happened to cast his Eyes towards the Sea, and espying the Fleet at a
distance, withal being purblind in his Eyes, as well as blinded by
Satan in his mind, he presently concludes that ’twas the French Navy
(because he saw divers White Flags) come to land the Sons of Belial,
which should cut off the Children of God, or as they call us, the
Hereticks. And being transported with joy, he hastened to inform his
own Disciples of the House, and forthwith they sung Te Deum. This was
a second grand Mistake, the third time will fall to our Lot to sing Te
Deum for our safe Landing (as the Prince had it done at Exeter
Cathedral in the Quire): And because false Reports were spread abroad,
that the People of this House had shot several of the Prince of
Orange’s Souldiers, and thereupon they had burnt down the House. I
must inform the candid Reader that there was nothing at all in it, for
our People did not give them one reviling word, nor they us; some
lodged there while we were at Torbay.

He then proceeds with the following account of the landing:—

The major part of the fleet being come into the Bay, Boats were
ordered to carry the Prince on Shore, with his Guards; and passing
towards the Land, with sundry Lords, the Admiral of Rotterdam gave
divers Guns at his Landing; the Boat was held length-ways until he was
on shore: So after he had set his Fleet on Land, then came all the
Lords and Guards, some going before his Sacred Person, and some coming
after. There are sundry little Houses which belong unto Fishermen,
between the two Hills, at Torbay where we landed. The People of these
Houses came running out at their Doors to see this happy Sight. So the
Prince, with Mareschal Schomberg, and divers Lords, Knights, and
Gentlemen, marched up the Hill, which all the Fleet could see over the
Houses, the Colours flying and flourishing before his Highness, the
Trumpets sounding, the Hoit-boys played, the Drums beat, and the
Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, and Guards shouted; and sundry Huzzas did
now echo in the Fleet, from off the Hill, insomuch that our very
hearts below in the water were even ravished for joy thereof. On this
Hill you could see all the Fleet most perfectly, and the Men of War
sailing up and down the Seas, to clear them of all enemies; the Ships
in the Rear making all the sail and speed they could.

The Navy was like a little City, the masts appearing like so many
Spires. The People were like Bees swarming all over the Bay; and now
all the Schievelingers are set to work to carry the Men and Horses
unto Shore with speed, for as yet they had done nothing. The Officers
and Souldiers crowded the Boats extreamly, many being ready to sink
under the Weight; happy was that Man which would get to Land soonest:
And such was the eagerness of both Officers and Souldiers, that divers
jeoparded their Lives for haste. Sundry Oars were broken in rowing,
because too many laid hands on them, some jump’d up to their Knees in
Water, and one or two were over Head and Ears. Extraordinary pains was
now taken by all sorts of Men to get their necessary things to shore,
every one minding his own concern. The Night was now as the Day for
Labour, and all this was done, lest the Enemy should come before we
were all in readiness to receive them. The Country Harmony was,
ringing of Bells for our arrival.

The Officers and Souldiers were continually marching up the Hill after
the manner of the Guards, with their Colours flying and flourishing,
Hoit-boyes playing, Drums beating, and all shouting and echoing forth
Huzzas.

Whittle does not give many particulars of the landing of the Prince himself. Probably they did not land at the same time. It is interesting as to this to refer to the details given by Blewitt in the _Panorama_. His account is as follows:—

The 4th of November it anchored safely in Torbay. This was the
anniversary of the Prince’s birth and marriage, and he therefore
wished to render it more memorable by landing on the British shore.
The preparations, however, could not be completed that night, but on
the following day, the Prince, attended by his principal officers,
proceeded to raise his standard on Brixham Quay. At this time Brixham
contained but few houses, and the good people, astonished at the
appearance of such an armament, are said to have stood in silent
wonder on the beach. At last William approached the shore and demanded
whether he was welcome, when after some further pause he was asked his
business, and his explanation considered satisfactory, he was, after a
little more parley, informed that he was welcome. “If I am, then,”
said the Prince, “come and carry me ashore,” and immediately a little
man, one of the party, plunged into the water and carried him
triumphantly ashore to the steps of the pier. On his landing the
inhabitants are said to have presented their illustrious visitor with
the following address:

“And please your Majesty King William,
You’re welcome to Brixham Quay
To eat buckhorn and drink bohea,
Along with me,
And please your Majesty King William.”

This story Mr. White very properly calls an absurd one, as the Prince was not a King, and tea was a fabulous price.

In a note to this account, said to have been communicated by the Rev. H. F. Lyte, it is stated as follows:—

The subsequent history of the “little man” who carried the King on
shore is rather singular. Having a short ambling pony, which was
commonly used in fish-jolting, he rode bare-headed before the Prince
to Newton and afterwards to Exeter, and so pleased him by his zeal
that he told him to come to him to court, where he should be seated on
the throne, and he would make a great man of him. He also gave him a
line under his hand, which was to be his passport into the royal
presence. In due time accordingly the little man took his course to
London, promising his townsmen that he should come back among them a
Lord at least. When, however, he arrived there some sharpers, who
learnt his errand at the inn where he put up, made our poor little
Brixhamite gloriously drunk, and kept him in that state for several
successive weeks. During this time one of the party, having obtained
the passport, went to court with the little man’s tale in his mouth,
and received a handsome present from the King. Our adventurer,
recovering himself shortly afterwards, went to the Palace without his
card of admission and was repulsed as an impostor, and came back to
Brixham never to hold up his head again.

I find that this story of the little fisherman carrying the Prince on shore is still current at Brixham, the reason given for it being that it was low tide at the time; the ending of the story as given to me being that the “little man” who journeyed to London to see the Prince, owing to being in difficulties from having lost his horse, and his boat being out of repair, did see the King, and received a large sum of money, said to be £100, with which he built a house in Brixham and lived “happily for ever after.” His name was Varwell, and one story is that the Prince, on being carried safely on shore, desired him to ask a favour of him, upon which the fisherman desired that no press-gang might be sent to Brixham. The actual spot on which the Prince landed was where the fish market now stands, and the stone on which the Prince first placed his foot was long preserved there and pointed out with pride and veneration. In 1828 William IV., then Duke of Clarence, having come into Torbay, landed at the New Quay at Brixham, and this stone was removed from the fish market to this place to have the additional honour of receiving the second Prince of that name who had dignified Brixham by his presence; and while the Duke stood on the stone the Rev. H. F. Lyte, on the part of the inhabitants, presented him with a box of heart of oak eight hundred years old, a portion of the timber of the old Totnes bridge, lined with velvet, containing a small portion of the stone, which the Duke in his reply promised to preserve as a precious relic.

The stone itself was built into a small granite column erected to commemorate the landing of the two Princes, and was set up in the fish market; but in consequence of its inconvenient situation it was taken down and subsequently erected on the Victoria Pier.

Blewitt remarks that the landing of the Prince on the shoulders of the little fisherman was a very different kind of landing to that which Northcote has assigned to William in his celebrated picture. An old Dutch print, at present in my possession, purporting to be a delineation of the landing, represents on the land a large and imposing castle, into which the troops as they land are triumphantly marching, the Prince’s flag flying from the summit.

To return to Whittle’s narrative, we find him giving the following account of the proceedings subsequent to the landing:—

As soon as the Prince had viewed well the Ground upon the top of the
Hill, and found the most commodious place for all his Army to encamp,
he then gave Orders for everything, and so returned down the Hill unto
the Fishermen’s little Houses: One of which he made his Palace at that
time, instead of those at Loo, Honsterdyke, and the Hague. The Horse
Guards and some Foot were round about him at other Houses, and a
strong Guard but a little below the House wherein his Highness was.
All the Lords were quartered up and down at these Fishermen’s Houses,
whereof these poor Men were glad. Now the camp began to be filled with
Officers and Souldiers; for no Officer must move from his Company or
Post. The Foot Guards belonging to the Prince of Orange did encamp
within an enclosure of plowed Land, about which there was a natural
Fence, good Hedges and little Stone Walls, so that no Horse could
touch them; Count Solms being their Colonel or Commander. Count
Nassau’s Regiment encamp’d in another Craft or Inclosure joyning to
that of the Guards, having the like Fence about it as before. The
Regiment belonging unto Colonel Fagell encamp’d in a Craft or
Inclosure next to that of Count Nassau, and so all the English, Dutch,
French, and Scots encamp’d according to the aforesaid manner. The
Souldiers were marching into the Camp all hours in the Night; and if
any straggled from their Companies, it was no easy matter to find them
in the dark amongst so many thousands; so that continually some or
other were lost and enquiring after their Regiments.

It was a cold, frosty night, and the stars twinkl’d exceedingly;
besides, the Ground was very wet after so much Rain and ill Weather;
the Souldiers were to stand to their Arms the whole Night, at least to
be all in a readiness if anything should happen, or the enemy make an
Assault; and therefore sundry Souldiers were to fetch some old Hedges
and cut down green Wood to burn therewith, to make some Fire. Now one
Regiment beginning all the rest soon followed their Example. Those
that had Provision in their Snap-sacks (as most of the Souldiers had)
did broil it at the Fire, and others went into the villages
thereabouts to buy some fresh Provisions for their Officers, being we
were newly come from Sea; but alas! here was little Provision to be
gotten. There was a little Ale house amongst the Fishermen’s Houses
which was so extremely throng^d and crowded that a Man could not
thrust in his Head, not get Bread or Ale for Mony. It was a happy time
for the Landlord, who strutted about as if indeed he had been a Lord
himself, because he was honoured with Lords’ Company.

The little “ale-house” was probably the Buller’s Arms, which is still in existence. Report says that the Prince himself slept there, though this is doubtful, and that he left behind him there, or where he slept, a ring, which fell into the possession of the landlord, and was preserved with great care by subsequent possessors, eventually coming into the possession of one Mary Churchward, who died somewhere about twenty years ago, from whom the ring was stolen some years before her death by a thief who entered her bedroom at night and carried it off owing to the lady being in the habit of sleeping with her window open. Persons now in Brixham remember the lady bitterly lamenting the loss of the ring on account of its having belonged to the Prince of Orange.

Whittle continues:—

On the morrow after we landed, when all the Souldiers were encamp’d,
the Prince with sundry Noblemen rode and viewed each Regiment, and
then return’d to Dinner at this little House. The number of his
Highness’s Regiments landed here at this Bay was about six and twenty,
the number of Officers about one thousand, the number of Field
Officers about seventy-eight. The number of all his Forces and
Souldiers about fifteen thousand four hundred and odd men. You might
have seen several hundred Fires all at once in this Encampment, which
must needs signify to the Country round about that we were landed. The
Prince here was pleased to accept of Peoples Good-Will for the Deed,
because things were not here to be bought for Mony, no Market-Town
being near. Many People from all the adjacent places came flocking to
see the Prince of Orange. The Horses were landed with all the speed
that might be, and truly were much out of order, and sorely bruised,
not able to find their Legs for some days: Everything that was of
present use was posted to shoar, but the Artillery, Magazine, and all
sorts of Baggage and cumbersome things were left on Shipboard, and
order’d to meet us at Exeter.

Whittles reference to the fact that many people from the adjacent places came flocking to see the Prince is confirmed by other writers.

Local tradition in my own family, handed down from parent to child with no little pride, says that among those who flocked to see the Prince from here were two Windeatts, Samuel and Thomas—father and son, and a lady whose great niece subsequently intermarried with the Windeatts. At the time of the Prince’s landing, Samuel Windeatt, a man about forty, and a strict Nonconformist, was living in Bridgetown, where the family had been settled for some years. Hearing the joyful news that the Protestant Prince of Orange was in Torbay, he immediately set off to “Broxholme” on horseback, taking his little son Thomas, then about eight years old, in front of him, to see the Deliverer of England and his troops. They narrated the fact on their return that the country people around brought quantities of apples and rolled them down the hill to the soldiers; and the truth of this incident was curiously confirmed some years since. A member of my family having mentioned this to a gentleman who in his early days farmed in this part of the country, he gave me the following interesting account of the stories handed down to him:—

There are few now left who can say as I can that they have heard their
father and their wife’s father talking together of the men who saw the
landing of William the Third at Torbay. I have heard Capt. Clements
say he as a boy heard as many as seven or eight old men each giving
the particulars of what he saw then. One said a ship load of horses
hauled up to the Quay and the horses walked out all harnessed, and the
quickness with which each man knew his horse and mounted it surprised
them. Another old man said, “I helped to get on shore the horses that
were thrown overboard and swam on shore, guided by only a single rope
running from the ship to the shore”; and another would describe the
difference in the rigging and build of the ships, but all appeared to
welcome them as friends.

My father remembered only one “Gaffer Will Webber,” of Staverton, who
served his apprenticeship with one of his ancestors, and who lived to
a great age, say, that he went from Staverton as a boy, with his
father, who took a cart-load of apples from Staverton to the high-road
from Brixham to Exeter, that the soldiers might help themselves to
them, and to wish them “God-speed.”

I merely mention this to show how easily _tradition_ can be handed down, requiring only three or four individuals, for two centuries.

The lady I referred to as one of those who flocked to see the Prince was a Miss Juliana Babbage, from a brother of whom the late Charles Babbage, the famous mathematician, was descended. She came, when a girl of twelve, from Barbadoes, and was also a decided Nonconformist. On the 5th November, 1688, she was attending the old meeting-house in Totnes, at a thanksgiving service for the discovery of the gunpowder plot, and while there was told that the Prince of Orange was in Torbay landing his troops. She also hailed the news with joy, and as soon as service was over set off to walk to Brixham, accompanied by an old lady of her acquaintance, and making their way to the Prince, they boldly welcomed him to England. He shook hands with them, and gave them some of his proclamations to distribute, which they did so industriously that not one was left in the family as a memorial. A crimson velvet and gold purse, a pincushion, and a gold chain, which she is said to have worn on the occasion, as well as a curious gold locket with hair belonging to her, are still in the possession of our family.

These stories come to me from a relative who has attained an honoured old age, who, owing to the early death of her mother, passed her childhood and girlhood in an old family circle, and heard from the lips of those elderly relatives tales of old times, which they had received in like manner from their relatives. This lady says her grandmother told her she well recollected her father joking her mother as to what might have happened if the Prince had not succeeded, saying, “Oh! mistress, your aunt might have swung for it!”

The terror infused into the minds of the men of the West by the bitter persecution which followed the unsuccessful rising on behalf of the Duke of Monmouth, was doubtless sufficient to deter the leading men from openly espousing the Prince’s cause at this moment.

The first gentleman of any position to do so, and this he probably did at Brixham, as he lived in the neighbourhood, was Mr. Nicholas Roope, who was appropriately rewarded for his adhesion to the Prince by being appointed, within a short time of the Prince reaching St. James’, Governor of Dartmouth Castle, in the room of Sir Edward Seymour the elder, who had then recently died.

In an interesting letter from the last Governor of Dartmouth Castle (Governor Holdsworth) to Sir H. P. Seale, Bart., dated May 1st, 1857, the warrant for his appointment is set out in full. It runs in the name of William Henry, Prince of Orange, and is dated 7th of January, 1688–9, and this was followed, on the 18th July of the same year (1689), by a regular commission, when the Prince had become King of England.

The authority for the statement that Mr. Roope was the first to join the King is contained in a letter from Mr. Roope to the Earl of Nottingham in reply to one from his Lordship containing a complaint against him. These letters are set out in full in Governor Holdsworth’s letter.

At Berry Pomeroy, some few miles distant from the scene of the Prince’s landing, was then living Sir Edward Seymour the younger, sometime Speaker of the House of Commons, son of the Seymour who was Roope’s predecessor in the Governorship of Dartmouth Castle, and one of the most influential men of his time, whose birth, says Macaulay, put him on a level with the noblest subjects in Europe, and who, in political influence and in Parliamentary abilities was beyond comparison the foremost among the Tory gentlemen of England. He openly joined the Prince at Exeter, and he it was who contributed greatly to the success of the Prince’s cause by suggesting that an association should be founded, and that all the English adherents of the Prince should put their hands to an instrument binding them to be true to their leader and to each other. He doubtless was well informed of what was now going on at Brixham, and we can hardly imagine him to have been a passive spectator of the great enterprise. Tradition says that the Prince had a secret interview with him at a house, now a cluster of labourers’ cottages, still known as Parliament House, situate on the confines of Berry parish on the road from Berry House to Brixham, and that there he agreed to come out for the Prince at Exeter, for which city he was member. Another account gives the place of meeting at Marldon, at a spot now called Parliament Hill. The present Duke of Somerset, with whom I have communicated on this point, has been good enough to inform me that he believes the building called Parliament House to have been the place where the country gentlemen assembled and agreed to support the Prince, and that the latter probably had some interview with Seymour at that time, as it was by his inducement that the country gentlemen, when they met at Exeter, signed their names to the paper I have been referred to, promising to support the Prince, and that for this probably the Prince appointed him Governor of Exeter.

His Grace also informs me that the late Duke, who had the family papers examined, said that all documents relating to these transactions appeared to have been carefully destroyed, and that this precaution was natural after the recent failure of Monmouth’s landing in the West of England, though it deprives us, as he says, of many incidents that would now be very interesting.

There is little information to be gained from the parish records of Brixham on the subject of this paper, but from them it appears that at least one poor nameless foreigner was left behind at Brixham when the Prince’s army began its march to Exeter, and probably succumbed to the effects of the voyage, which, from Whittle’s narrative, appears to have been fatal to five hundred horses; for in the Register of Burials for the parish for the year 1688 there appears the following entry:—

Nov. 21, a fforeigner belonging to the Prenz of Oringe.

In another book, containing an account of those buried in woollen, in accordance with the law passed to encourage that trade, the entry is as follows:—

November 21, a Dutchman cujus nomen ignotum.

There is a steep lane leading from the outer harbour up the hill to where the station now stands, which the present vicar of Brixham considers derives its name, Overgang, apparently a Dutch word, from “Obergang,” or Gang-ober or “over,” and that it arose from the fact of troops after the landing being repeatedly ordered to gang over this hill. This may be so; but as I find that the word “gang,” meaning to go or to walk, was in use in England in the time of Spenser, it is not improbable that this lane gained its name before the advent of the Prince of Orange.

The Prince’s army marched from Brixham on its way to Newton on the 6th or 7th November, passing along the narrow lanes of Churston, Paignton, Cockington, and Kingskerswell, taking apparently a part of two days on the march, the roads being so bad as to make locomotion slow and tedious.

Report says that at a place called Collins’ Grave, near the higher lodge at Churston, where there is high ground overlooking the river, the army encamped one night; also that the Prince himself stayed at a house in Paignton, now the Crown and Anchor Inn. A room there is still shown as the “Prince’s room.”

In a Protestant sense it is interesting that William landed within sight of the Bible Tower at Paignton, where Coverdale, the translator of the Bible, undoubtedly dwelt, and where he is said to have been probably engaged on his translation; and doubtless this tradition was not lost sight of by those about the Prince on his sleeping at the “Crown and Anchor,” just outside the palace wall.

The following is Whittle’s graphic account of the march to Newton:—

Upon Wednesday about Noon, Order was given to march towards Exeter,
and so every Souldier was commanded by their Officers to carry
something or other besides his own Arms and Snap-sack, and this made
many murmur exceedingly. Sundry scores of Horses were thrown overboard
which died at Sea, so that by just Computation the Prince lost about
six hundred Horses at least by the Storm. As we marched here upon good
ground, the Souldiers would stumble and sometimes fall, because of a
dissiness in their Heads after they had been so long toss’d at Sea,
the very ground seem’d to rowl up and down for some days, according to
the manner of the Waves: Therefore, it is the Lords Goodness that our
Foes did not come upon us in this juncture and unfit Condition. The
whole Army marched all the same way, in a manner which made very ill
for the Rear Regiments, and cast them much behind. Many Country People
which met us did not know what to say or think, being afraid that we
should be served as the D. of Monmouth’s handful of Men were.
Notwithstanding, some were so courageous as to speak out and say,
truly their Hearts were for us, and went along with us, and pray’d for
the Prince of Orange; but they said the Irish would come and cut them
in pieces if it should be known. Some Souldiers asked them if they
would go with them against the Popists? and many answered they were
enough themselves, and wanted no more. His Highness, with Mareschal
Scomberg, Count Sohms, Count Nassau, Heer Benting, Heer Zulustein,
Earl of Shrewsbury, Earl of Macclesfield, Viscount Mordaunt, Lord
Wiltshire, and divers other Knights and Gentlemen, came in the Rear of
the middle Line; for as soon as we could conveniently, we were to
march in three Lines, and the Prince was commonly or always in the
middlemost Line, which was the meetest place. So he went unto a
certain Gentleman’s House, about two miles off, where the last Line
encamp’d the Second Night, and lodged there, his own Guards being with
him. The first day we marched some hours after Night in the Dark and
Rain; the lanes hereabout were very narrow, and not used to Wagons,
Carts or Coaches, and therefore extreme rough and stony, which
hindered us very much from making any speed. Divers of the Dutchmen
being unaccustomed to such bad ways and hard marching in the Dirt,
wished themselves back again in their own Country, and murmured
because of the Dark and Rain. At length we came to the Corn-stubble
Inclosures on the side of a Hill, where we encamp’d that Night. It was
a red clay, and it rain’d very hard the greatest part of the Night;
the Winds being high and stormy. Nevertheless, the poor Souldiers
being much wearied with the Tent-Polls, Spare Arms, and other Utensils
for War, which they had carried all Day and some hours after Night, as
well as with the badness of the March, lay down to take their Repose;
and verily the water run over and under some of their legs the major
part of the Night, and their Heads, Backs and Arms sunck deep into the
Clay, being so very wet and soft, notwithstanding they slept all Night
very sweetly, in their Pee or Campagne Coats. The Souldiers here
fetch’d some old Hedges and Gates to make their Officers and
themselves some Fire (as they had done the night before), else some
would have perished in the Cold, being all over in a Froth with Sweat
in marching. And the old Hedges and Gates not being enough, they
fetch’d away the new ones, for the Weather was not only raw and cold
but we ourselves were so too, having nothing to eat or drink after so
bad a day’s journey. The Souldiers had some good Holland’s Beef in
their Snap-sacks, which they brought, and their Officers were very
glad to get part with them, so they broil’d it at the Fire; some had
bought Chickens by the way, but raw, which they broil’d and eat as a
most delicate Dish. Sundry Captains offer’d any Mony for a Guide to
bring them to a House thereabout, where they might have some provision
for their money, but no Guide could be found; it was exceeding dark,
and being all Strangers and unacquainted with the Country, we could
not tell where to find one House, for those few that were scattering
here and there were either in some little grove of Trees, and so hid
from our Eyes, or else in a bottom amongst the Hills, and so could not
be seen. These Quarters did not content our Minds, for tho’ we got as
near to the Hedges as we could possible with our Fires, yet we could
not be warm. Many of the Souldiers slept with their feet in the Ditch,
and their Heads on the side thereof. We thought this Night almost as
long as that in the Storm at Sea; and judged it to be the dawn of Day
some hours before it was. The Morning appearing rejoiced our very
Hearts, for we thought now we should march presently; and we were sure
of this, that worse Quarters we could never meet with, but much better
we hoped to find. A private souldier, therefore, going in the next
Croft for to seek a convenient place, he found it to be an Inclosure
with Turnips, so bringing his Burden away with him, he came to the
Fire and gave those there some, telling his Comrades of the Place, who
soon hastened thereto, and brought enow with them: Some roasted them
and others eat them raw, and made a brave Banquet. The Souldiers were
busy in discharging their Musquets, after the Wet and Rain, for they
durst not trust to that Charge; and about 11 of the Clock the Army
received Orders to march.

The Prince of Orange with the Lords and Gentlemen, rode from this
place unto Sir William Courtenay’s, within a mile of Newton Abbot, the
first Line being about Newton, and the last on their march thither.
The Place where we encamped was trodden to Dirt, and stuck to our
Shoes wretchedly. Now the Regiments marched sundry Roads, of which we
were right glad, hoping to meet with better Quarters than the Marl and
Clay Crofts. The People came in flocks unto the Cross-ways to see the
Army, but especially the Prince. We met with much civility on the
Road; now they began to give us Applause, and pray for our Success;
sundry Persons enquired for the Declaration of his Highness.

Arrived near Newton, the Prince, as Whittle says, went to Ford House, within a short distance of the town, the residence of Sir William Courtenay, who endeavoured cautiously to abstain from doing anything to compromise himself with the King, should the latter prevail, and so managed not to be at home on the Prince’s arrival, but left directions that he should be hospitably lodged and feasted. Here he probably stayed two nights to enable the whole of the troops to come up and be in order for the march to Exeter, to which place Dr. Burnet and Lord Mordaunt with four troops of horse were sent on in advance.

The room at Ford House in which the Prince slept is still pointed out; it is called the “Orange room,” and is papered and upholstered in orange.

Mr. Blewitt, in the _Panorama of Torquay_, says:—“It is _said_ that his first proclamation was read from the base of the ancient cross at Newton by the Rev. John Reynell, the minister of Wolborough”; and Mr. White, in his valuable _History of Torquay_, published in 1878, repeats this statement as a fact. The stone pedestal on which formerly stood the ancient cross, still remains near the tower at Newton, in the parish of Wolborough, and is now surmounted by a public lamp. On this pedestal is the following inscription:—

THE FIRST DECLARATION OF
WILLIAM III., PRINCE OF ORANGE,
THE GLORIOUS DEFENDER OF THE
LIBERTIES OF ENGLAND,
WAS READ ON THIS PEDESTAL BY
THE REV. JOHN REYNELL,
RECTOR OF THIS PARISH,
5TH NOVEMBER,
1688.

That the Prince’s declaration was read from the old cross there can be little doubt, but that the inscription cannot be looked upon as much of an authority is clear from the statement that the declaration was read on the 5th; for the Prince’s army did not commence to land at Brixham until that day, and could not have possibly reached Newton until the 7th; and that it is erroneous also in stating that it was read by Reynell is evident from the following very interesting paragraph from Whittle’s Diary:—

Now being on their march to Newton Abbot, a certain Divine went before
the Army; and finding that ’twas their Market-day, he went unto the
Cross, or Town Hall; where, pulling out the Declaration of the Prince
of Orange, with undaunted Resolution, he began, with a loud and
audible voice, to read as follows: William Henry, by the Grace of God,
Prince of Orange, &c., of the Reasons inducing him to appear in Arms
in the Kingdom of England, for preserving of the Protestant Religion,
and restoring the Laws and Liberties of England, Scotland, and
Ireland, &c.

When the people heard the Prince of Orange’s name mentioned, they
immediately crowded about him in a prodigious manner to hear him,
insomuch that some jeoparded their lives.

The Declaration being ended, he said, God bless and preserve the
Prince of Orange: To which the People, with one Heart and Voice,
answered Amen, Amen; and forthwith shouted for Joy, and made the Town
ring with their echoing Huzzas. The Minister, _nolens volens_, was
carried into a Chamber near the Place: the Windows were shut, the
doors lock’d and bolted, to prevent the crowd from rushing in.

The People of the House, and others very kindly asked him: Sir, What
will you be pleased to eat? or, What shall we provide for you? Name
what you love best, it shall be had. The Minister answered, What you
please, give me what you will. So they brought forth such as was
ready; and having eaten and drunk well, they desired him to spare them
but one Declaration. Yes, says he, for I have enow in my Pocket, and
pulling them out, he gave Three, because they were of distinct
Parishes. He told the People, he would go and visit their Minister,
and cause their Bells to ring, because the Prince of Orange was come
into the Parish, at Sir Will Courtney’s, tho’ not into the Town; and
(says he) this being the first Market-Town, I cannot but think it much
the more proper and expedient. Whereupon he went to the Minister’s
House, and enquiring for him he was courteously invited in, and
desired to sit down: The Reverend Minister of the Parish coming
presently to him, they saluted each other; and after some
communications passed between them, this Divine from the Army, desired
the Keys of his Church Doors, for to welcome the Prince of Orange into
England with a Peal (that being the first Market-Town they came to).
The Minister answered; Sir, for my own part, I am ready to serve his
Highness any way, but of my own accord cannot give the Keys; but you
know you may command them, or anything else in my House in the Name of
the Prince of Orange, and then I will readily grant it. So the Divine
said: Sir, I demand your Keys of the Church Door only for an hour to
give his Highness a Peal, and then I will return them safely unto you.

The Minister presently directed him to the Clerk’s house, and desired
him to come and take a Glass of Wine with him after the Peal was
ended, (but the Ringers coming together, they rung sundry Peals) and
he returned the Keys to the Minister.

The People of the Town were exceeding Joyful, and began to drink the
Prince of Orange’s Health. The Country People in the Town were well
inclined towards us; and here was the first favour we met with worth
mentioning. His Highness was most kindly receiv’d and entertain’d at
Sir Will Courtney’s, the Souldiers generally well treated by the
Vulgar.

Oldmixon, in his _History of the Reign of the Stuarts_, simply says that “the first place the Prince of Orange’s Declaration was publicly read was Newton Abbot, a market town near Exeter, and the first man who read it was _a_ clergyman.” No doubt the fact that it was read by a clergyman gradually changed into the statement that it was read by _the_ clergyman of the parish, and so Reynell became credited with a bold act, which, from Whittle’s account, he was far too cautious a man to commit, however favourable he may have been to the Prince’s cause. The lettering of the inscription is evidently modern, and the Rev. H. Tudor, the present Rector of Wolborough, informs me that a man, now dead, told him he was employed to cut or re-cut it, and was never paid for doing so.

The question remains, and it is an interesting one, who was the divine who first proclaimed the Prince by reading the Declaration? I was first inclined to believe, from the detailed manner in which the story was told, that it was Whittle himself. It is not improbable, however, that it was the renowned Dr. Burnet, afterwards Bishop Burnet. He was the Prince’s own chaplain, and doubtless the head and chief of the clergy who accompanied the Prince, and from his undaunted spirit, and the leading part he took in the Cathedral at Exeter, he was undoubtedly the divine most likely to have performed this act. One gentleman with whom I have been in communication on the point, and whose opinion always carries weight, says:—

Burnet was such a busybody, that I feel certain if anything was to be
done by a clergyman he would have put himself forward to do it.

No information is to be gleaned from the parish registers or the books I have inspected relative to what occurred at Newton during the time of the Prince’s visit, but I have been favoured with the following interesting story from a lady now residing at Newton, of the advanced age of ninety-six, told her by her father, who heard it from his grandmother, who was a Miss Joan Bearne, the daughter of Mr. Bearne, a lawyer of Newton Abbot; viz., that when a girl of sixteen, there was a stranger staying at her father’s house for about three weeks, who was only known as “the gentleman,” and who was out during the day, and only returned in the evening; that on the entry of William of Orange into Newton from Ford House, her father took her out to see him, and that walking by the side of the Prince was the strange gentleman, who, on passing where Mr. Bearne was standing, pointed him out as “his host for three weeks” to the Prince, who at once lifted his hat to him.

[This paper having been written in 1880, sundry allusions must be
interpreted in the light of that circumstance.—THE EDITOR.]

REYNOLDS’ BIRTHPLACE.

BY JAMES HINE, F.R.I.B.A.

Any interest attaching to Plympton belongs to the olden time. Of many other places it may be said that the new has entirely supplanted the old. Modern business requirements, new warehouses, and thoroughfares, have had the effect of stamping out all vestiges of the past, and even the traditions of them. An unpretending Railway Station and a dozen or more new houses have not had this effect at Plympton. The town has no novelties to shew us; the lions are just what they were two hundred years ago.

Plympton in the olden time had its castle and its priory, its two churches, and later its Guildhall and Grammar School. Not quite in the olden time, but only just on the verge of our prosaic modern time, Plympton gave to the world England’s greatest painter—a circumstance which (though forgotten by the native, who on being asked by a tourist where Sir Joshua Reynolds was born, replied he “never heeard of sich”) should indeed make this honoured little town almost as famous as Stratford-on-Avon.

In the Doomsday Book, Plympton is designated “Terra Regis,” so also are Tavistock, Ashburton, and Tiverton, “all which places were then the King’s demesne towns,” but not boroughs.

_From an Engraving_] [_by J. E. Wood._
THE CLOISTERS, PLYMPTON GRAMMAR SCHOOL.

]

_From an Engraving_] [_By J. E. Wood._
NORMAN DOORWAY, PLYMPTON PRIORY.

]

A date anterior to the Norman Conquest has been ascribed to the castle, on the ground of its similarity to Trematon, Launceston, and Restormel castles, which Borlase and Grose assert to have been built before the year 900. The antiquaries, however, of the eighteenth century are often extremely inaccurate in their classification both of military and ecclesiastical structures. St. German’s Church, the ancient cathedral of Cornwall, is designated Saxon by them, whereas its features, as any tyro will now see, are undoubted Norman; in fact, there are no remains of Saxon architecture in Cornwall, and it would be surprising if there were, seeing that the Saxons never had any permanent hold on this part of Britain; for, though Egbert is said to have reduced the Cornish Britons to “nominal subjection” about the year 810, we find that Athelstan as late as 936 was in conflict with the British forces, and drove them across the Tamar, and not until that year had Exeter been subjected to his government.

Restormel Castle is undoubtedly of Norman construction, and it is probable that the most ancient portions of Launceston Castle are nearly two centuries later than the date ascribed by Borlase.

Although, therefore, from the naturally strong position of all these castles, it is probable that the Britons occupied these positions for defence, no visible remains can be considered as anterior to the Norman Conquest. In the absence of any architectural details at Plympton Castle—the masonry in the walls being somewhat analogous to the British masonry found in different parts of Cornwall—there may be more room for doubt and conjecture here than in respect to the other castles; yet the rudeness of the masonry may be accounted for by supposing that only the vassal inhabitants of the neighbourhood were employed in the works, under Norman architects and overseers.

The vestiges of Norman rule are clearly traceable in the county and borders of Devon. The same independent character which Exeter maintained against the Saxon authority, that city endeavoured to assert against the Conqueror; and the obedience of the western capital required to be insured by a number of castles, of a date not long subsequent to the Conquest. The castles of Barnstaple, Exeter, Totnes, Plympton, and Trematon guarded the rivers which gave access to the interior of the county; and the fortresses of Okehampton, Launceston, Lydford, Berry, and Tiverton, the inland passes. Of the castles enumerated here, Berry at least has been entirely rebuilt at a later period.

Plympton Castle was the chief residence of the Earls of Devon and Lords of Plympton. King Henry, the youngest son of the Conqueror, in the first year of his reign, granted the Lordship to Richard de Redvers or Rivers and his posterity, to enjoy also the title and possessions belonging to the Devonshire Earldom. The said Richard was one of William the Conqueror’s generals in the battle of Hastings, and obtained the barony of Okehampton from William Rufus. He was one of the chief councillors of Henry the First, and was so highly esteemed by him that he was created first Earl of Devon since the Conquest. The castle stood on the north side of the town, occupying a space of about two acres, extending 700 feet from east to west, including the ditch, and 400 feet from north to south. Leland says of this structure, in his Itinerary, “On the side of the town is a fair large castelle and dungeon in it, whereof the walls yet stand, though the lodgings be clean decayed.” At present there only remains a portion of the circular keep or tower, fifty feet in diameter, on a mound about sixty feet high. The ruined walls average fourteen feet in height and are nine feet thick, grouted with mortar or concrete as hard as the stones themselves. Around the keep in the thickness of the wall is a plastered flue, fifteen inches by ten inches, the purpose of which is not obvious. It has been suggested that it was designed for the conveyance of sound. It seems more probable that it was for ventilation. There is a similar flue at Rochester Castle. The habitable portions of Plympton Castle must have been of considerable extent. These, including the state apartments, and lodgings (as Leland calls them) for the military and retainers, were within the outer castle walls, and built around a spacious basse-court. The ballium wall—embattled and flanked with towers—was raised on a platform about 30 feet above the fosse or ditch, in the position now indicated by a modern path, and by a belt of trees planted about a hundred years ago. The basse-court has long been a quiet village green, and the site of the ballium wall, where stern warriors peered over frowning battlements, is now a “lovers’ walk.” Such are the tendencies of modern civilization. Surrounding the castle wall was a deep moat about 40 feet wide, still to be traced, except on the eastern side, where it has been filled up. In Leland’s time it was full of water, and stored with carp. There are no remains whatever of the great gateway of the castle (with its drawbridge and portcullis), which, as shewn by the seal of the Lords of Plympton, was on the north side. There were probably towers at the different angles.