Volume 19 (2019)

The

Transactions of the Sabine Baring-Gould Appreciation Society

Volume 19 (2019)

Contents:

Introduction 1 Talks given at the Tavistock Meeting, October 2018 Locating Curgenven (Roger Bristow) 2 Mrs Curgenven of Curgenven (Becky Smith and Pat Tansell) 12 The Folklore of Bodmin (Katherine Stansfield) 19 Priests and Parsons in the Novels of Baring-Gould (Norman Wallwork) 28 Additional material: Winefred – A Story of the Chalk Cliffs (Roger Bristow) 49 The Undercliffs Reserve (Donald Campbell) 62

Notes on the contributors 66

The Transactions of the Sabine Baring-Gould Appreciation Society

The original talks from which the articles in this journal are drawn were given at the annual gathering of the Sabine Baring-Gould Appreciation Society held at Tavistock, 5 to 7 October 2018 with the exception of ‘Winefred – A Story of the Chalk Cliffs’ and ‘The Undercliffs National Reserve’, which were presented at the 2005 meeting in Seaton and which have not been published previously. .

The copyright for the articles appearing in this publication rests with the original author

Published for SBGAS by Greenjack Publications, 59 Roberts Close, Cirencester, Gloucestershire, GL7 2RP

Transactions Editor: Martin Graebe e-mail: [email protected] Phone: 01285 651 104

This is the final issue of the SBGAS Transactions as the Society was wound up in March 2019.

Introduction

The last Annual Gathering of the Sabine Baring-Gould Appreciation Society was held in Tavistock in October 2018, and featured papers concerned with Baring- Gould’s novel Mrs Curgenven of Curgenven, and other relevant topics.

Roger Bristow talked about the locations mentioned by Baring-Gould in Mrs Curgenven and the way in which Baring-Gould placed his characters in the landscape.

Becky Smith and Pat Tansell talked about the construction of the novel and the actors in it.

Katherine Stansfield told us about the folklore of Bodmin Moor and explained some of the superstitions in Mrs Curgenven.

Widening the picture, Norman Wallwork described the various men of the cloth that Baring-Gould described in his novels and the often-negative pictures that he drew of them. They included, of course, the Rev. Pamphlet, from Mrs Curgenven, whom Baring-Gould treated without mercy.

In this, the final issue of the Transactions of the Sabine Baring-Gould Appreciation Society, we have taken the opportunity to include two of the papers from the 2005 meeting which were not published because of the illness of the founding Editor, Phillip Weller. The meeting took place in Seaton and featured Baring-Gould’s novel Winefred – A Story of the Chalk Cliffs. This features another of Baring-Gould’s ‘strong women’ – Winefred Marley.

Roger Bristow gave one of his inimitable introductions to the locations used in the novel.

Donald Campbell talked about the Undercliff between Seaton and Beer which is a site of Special Scientific Interest with unique physical characteristics which were used by Baring-Gould as a setting for his novel.

Thank you to these contributors, some of whom have appeared regularly in the pages of the SBGAS Transactions and to all those who have contributed over the years. This series of journals will, I am sure, prove to be of great value to future followers of Sabine Baring-Gould.

Martin Graebe 1

Locating Curgenven Roger Bristow

In the novel, we have a surname and a village with the name Curgenven. We know that Sabine used some unusual names for the titles of his novels: Mehalah, Bladys, Nebo etc which sound implausible, but in fact are real names. So, is Curgenven based on a real person and a real village.

The name Curgenven The name CURGENVEN appears to have been an invention by the Reverend Thomas LEAN (born 1644 in Lelant, Cornwall), who changed his name to Curgenven round about 1680. The name persists to the present day.

Locating Curgenven Sabine clearly based his ‘Curgenven’ on a real village – all the clues are in the novel and by piecing them together one by one I think that I have identified with a 99% certainty, the village on which this was based.

Early in the story, we are told that Curgenven lies on the edge of a granite mass. At this stage, this could be one of five of the west country granites. But the proximity of Liskeard narrows it down to the Bodmin Granite. We can quickly narrow down the search further because Percival Curgenven, who lives in Liskeard, has to live no more than 9 miles from his cousin and patron, Captain Curgenven of Curgenven House, in order to receive an annuity of £150.

If you now plot all the localities mentioned in the book you end up with quite a cluster across Bodmin Moor. But if you remove all the sites that only feature in the book because of Esther’s and Justinian’s flights across the moor, we are getting closer to identifying Curgenven [Figure 1.1].

When Theresa sets off with the jewel box to meet Physic, she passes the Cheesewring [Figure 1.2]. This is a pile of granite slabs 360m high. The name derives from the resemblance of the piled slabs to a "cheesewring", a press-like device that was once used to make cheese. It is adjacent to the Cheesewring Quarry [SX259 723] which provided the stone cladding for London Bridge.

Having passed the Cheesewring, she arrives at the Hurlers. Here, Sabine has one of his digressions from the story and relates how the Hurlers came into being. One 2

Sunday, men of three [unnamed] parishes met on the moor to hurl a silver ball to see which parish sent forth the best ‘hurler’. But in an interlude they started to throw stones and granite slabs to the top of the hill one on top of the other and which now constitutes the Cheesewring. Then the men of two of the parishes, Linkinhorne and Southill were faint and would throw no more until they had drunk ale. Then the wrath of Heaven was kindled against the Sabbath breakers and all were turned into stone.

Sabine only identifies two of the parishes – South Hill and Linkinhorne – South Hill need be considered no further as it lies too far to the east of Bodmin Granite. Linkinhorne parish, in which the Hurlers lie, has a vicarage, but no rectory [Jane Curgenven’s father lived in a Rectory] or ‘Big’ house. For reasons given below, I conclude that the third parish was North Hill Parish.

It is a parish with a Church and adjoining rectory, and with a stately house, Trebartha Hall, located someway away from the Church and rectory, on the northern edge of the parish and close to edge of the Bodmin Granite [Figure 1.3]. It was a parish with which Sabine was very familiar:

1). Through his excavations at Trewortha Marsh and excursions in the surrounding areas. He describes the marsh only briefly in Mrs Curgenven as ‘a wild and boggy area’. A fuller description is given in the Book of Cornwall (pp. 83-5) accompanied by two plates, but of course there is a full description of An Ancient Settlement on Trewortha Marsh in the Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, 1892, Vol. 11, pp. 57-70 and Vol. 13, pp.289-90.

2). He is familiar with the church, dedicated to St Torney whose Holy Well is situated by the River Lynher. In A Book of Cornwall (pp. 83, 88) he refers to ‘a curious monument to a chrisom child’ in the church [chrisom - a white cloth or robe formerly put on a baby at baptism as a symbol of innocence: it was used as a shroud if the child died within a month of birth].

3). The church and rectory are some distance from Trebartha Hall. Sabine states (p. 2) that the two are half-a-mile apart – actually it is three-quarters of a mile, but whatever, it is quite a walk between the two.

4). TREBARTHA Hall is only a short distance from the edge of the Bodmin Granite. In the Book of Cornwall (p. 83), Sabine describes Trebartha Hall as ‘… one of the loveliest sites in England, second in my mind only to Bolton Abbey’. In the novel, Sabine describes Curgenven Manor (p.12) as ‘A large house, a Queen Anne mansion of grey stone with granite dressings, and tall windows telling of stately rooms within’. It was burnt down in1949.

5). Sabine spent the night there on Aug. 21st 1891 (Wawman, 2009, p. 182). This for me clinches it – Trebartha Hall is the basis for Curgenven Manor.

Tolmenna? Tolmenna is Esther’s home. It is somewhere on the moor, but not specifically identified. The first mention (p.87) of Tolmenna is when Esther says ‘… that it is under Boarrah [Bearah]. The next mention (p.272) is when Theresa goes to meet Physic with the jewel box. It places Tolmenna beyond The Hurlers, but this seems too far (6km) from Curgenven to be plausible.

The flights of Esther and Justinian [See Figure 1.4] Esther’s first flight takes her from Tolmenna, along the Withy Brook, around Trewortha Marsh to the Grey Mare and then on to Tolborough Tor There, there is a row of five stones running away to the south-east from the large cairn at the top. Sabine describes it (p.298) ‘… with a cairn crowning the summit, a chambered cairn with a passage leading into its depth, where dwelt the pixies. On p.302 he refers to ‘… pixies dancing round the cairn’.

The flight continues to Coddah Tor and close to Garrow Farm where Esther saw ‘Already under the granite-crowned Garrah, a star shone forth, where in a solitary farm [Garrow Farm?] a lamp had been kindled’. From there, she continues to Brown Willy. Because of its ‘rude’ connotation, there have been various attempts to change the name. Luckily common sense prevails. It is the highest point in Cornwall (420m). It is here where Esther finds shelter for the night.

Esther’s second flight is essentially the same as her first flight. She sets off from Smallacoombe where her grandparents now live after Tolmenna was pulled down by Physic. Smallacoombe is described as ‘… an old building on the further side of the stream [west side of the Withy Brook] – a building long used as a cowhouse or stable, with a roof to keep the interior dry, but was without window or chimney’. On p.184, it states ‘Happily no bullocks had been housed in the shed for a couple of years, so that it was in passably clean condition’.

Esther then crosses the treacherous Trewortha Marsh which she knows intimately, unlike the policeman following her. She safely reaches the Grey Mare rock again and then sets off to Brown Willy

Justinian’s route to find Esther Justinian sets off on horseback from Curgenven Manor/Trebartha Hall and skirts the northern edge of the Bodmin Granite via the 5 Lanes Inn, now the King’s Head, and Trevillian’s Gate. At Trevillian’s Gate, he leaves his horse and sets off for Crowdy 4

Marsh which Sabine describes as ‘… particularly ugly and dangerous’ and on to Rough Tor and from there to Brown Willy.

References Baring-Gould, S. 1899 (Aug.). A Book of the West. Volume 2: Cornwall, pp. vii, 341, 33 illus. London: Methuen & Co.

Baring-Gould, S. 1892. An Ancient Settlement on Trewortha Marsh. Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, 1892, Vol. 11, pp. 57-70 and Vol. 13, pp.289-90.

Wawman, R. 2009. Never Completely Submerged. The Diary of Sabine Baring- Gould. Transcribed and edited by R. Wawman. Grosvenor House Publishing. Pp.311.

Fig. 1.1 Localities relevant to ‘Locating Curgenven’

Fig. 1.2 The Cheesewring

Fig. 1.3 North Hill Parish with the Rectory and Trebartha Hall highlighted

Fig. 1.4 Map showing the routes of Esther’s flights and Justinian’s journey to find her

A Gazetteer of the localities mentioned in Mrs Curgenven of Curgenven Roger Bristow

Altarnun, p. 239 SX223 812 Boarrah [Bearah] Tor, p. 84,182 SX257 747. Granite tor 360m high. Tolmenna (qv) was situated ‘… under Boarrah’ (p.87) Bodmin Road, p. 297. Former coaching road from Launceston to Bodmin. Brown Willy, pps.280,297,298,300 SX159 800. A granite tor, the highest point (1378ft; 420m) in Cornwall. Because of its ‘rude’ connotation, there have been various attempts to change the name. Luckily common sense prevails. Cheesewring, p.182 SX258 725. A pile of granite slabs 360m high, formed by weathering. It is adjacent to the Cheesewring Quarry [SX259 723] which provided the cladding for London Bridge. The name derives from the resemblance of the piled slabs to a "cheesewring", a press-like device that was once used to make cheese. Wilkie Collins described the Cheesewring in 1861 in his book Rambles Beyond Railways. Coddah [Codda] Tor, p. 298,300 SX180783. A granite tor 321m (1053ft) high that Esther crossed on her way to Brown Willy. Colquite Cottage, p.184. Colquite is quite a common Cornish name, but the lone cottage near Trewortha Marsh has not been identified. There is a Colquite Menhir [SX226 767] on the south side of Trewortha Marsh. Crowdy Marsh, p.280 SX150 834. Crowdy Marsh is a designated Special Area of Conservation. It is one of several valley mires found around the edge of Bodmin Moor. Most of the gently-sloping wide valley is now occupied by a freshwater reservoir, but feeder streams still meander via a network of water tracks between low peaty mounds over the remainder. In A Book of Cornwall (p. 86), Sabine states that Crowdy Marsh ‘… is particularly ugly and dangerous.’ Curgenven Manor. This appears to be based on Trebartha Hall (qv). On p. 12 it is described as ‘A large house, a Queen Anne mansion of grey stone with granite dressings, and tall windows telling of stately rooms within’. In A Book of Cornwall, Curgenven Rectory SX 271766. p.2 ‘… half-a-mile’ [880yds] from Curgenven Hall; actually about three-quarters-of a mile [1360yds].

Dozmare/Dosmare [Dosmary] Pool, pp. 74,132 SX194 744 is a small lake, that originated in the post-glacial period. The outflow from the pool is into Colliford Lake and is therefore one of the sources of the River Fowey. In the past the name has been spelt as Dozmaré and as Dosmery Pool. At the end of the 19th century, it was described by Sabine Baring-Gould in A Book of Cornwall (p.87) as abounding in fish and surrounded by numerous remains of the working of flint in the Stone Age. The pool and surrounding area were designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest in 1951 for its biological interest and is within the Cornwall Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Five Lanes Inn [Altarnun], p. 325 SX225 807. Still a thriving pub, but now known as the King’s Head. Fowey Well, p.300 SX162 800. This is where the River Fowey rises Garrah [Garrow] Tor, p.297 SX145 784. A granite tor 330m (1080ft) high viewed in the distance by Esther as she headed for Brown Willy. Already under the granite- crowned Garrah, a star shone forth, where in a solitary farm a lamp had been kindled. Grey Mare [Greymare Rock], pp.184, 297, 309, 310 SX225 772. Grey Mare rock is an isolated granite boulder on the southern slope of East Moor. Hendra [Downs], p.315 SX195 795. The mist rolls in from Brown Willy, then across Hendra Down to engulf Esther and Justinian on Grey Mare and allowing her to escape the police. Hurlers, p.271 SX258 715. Sabine describes the Hurlers as ‘… rings of upright stones planted in a prehistoric period for unknown purposes. Three of these circles remain; a line of stones has been destroyed that at one time stretched across the moor to it, only two of these have been spared, standing about five and half feet above the ground’. He gives a little more detail in A Book of Cornwall, 1899, pp. 106-7, together with a sketch of the Cheesewring (p.106). Jamaica Tavern [Inn], p. 324 SX183 768. Historic inn on the former coaching road from Launceston to Bodmin. The inn was made famous in the eponymous novel by Daphne Du Maurier. In Sabine’s time it was a ‘temperance house’. Kilmar [Tor], p. 68, p.182 SX254 749. An elongated granite tor, 396m (1,299ft) high. In the Book of Cornwall (p.83), Sabine gives the Celtic name, Cêlmawr, meaning the great place of shelter. He goes on to say that the view of Kilmar, from the north-west, across Grey Mare Rock, and across Trewortha Marsh is ‘… as fine anything on the Bodmin Moor’s. Linkinhorne Parish, p. 272, SX320 736. ‘Adjoins North Hill Parish to the north, and South Hill Parish to the south.

Liskeard, p.210 SX250 645. An ancient stannary and market town. Sabine gives a short description of the town and its origin. Wilkie Collins in his Rambles Beyond Railways had a low opinion of it: ‘… that abomination of desolation, a large agricultural country town’. At the beginning of Mrs Curgenven, this is where Percival Curgenven and his son Justinian lived. It was ‘… within 9 miles of Curgenven’ (p. 33). Mr Physic, solicitor and property agent, also lived here. Newel Tor, p. 306 SX237 741. Another granite tor, 346m (1135ft) high, which was on Justinian’s route as he goes after Esther. North Hill Parish. This I believe is ‘Curgenven Parish’ complete with church, rectory and hall. From the entry in A Book of Cornwall, (p.83), Sabine obviously visited North Hill church. Rivers Lynher and Withy (confluence), p.182 SX261 772 River Fowey, p. 298. Rises at Fowey Well (qv) and flows south-south-eastwards across Bodmin Moor, before turning west-south-west, and then southwards to enter the English Channel at Fowey. Rough Tor, p.280,p.326 SX146 808. A granite tor 400m (1313ft) high, the second highest in Cornwall. There was a cave nearby where Esther intended to hide. Smallacomb [Smallacoombe], p.213, SX239 748, near Trewortha Marsh, now a ruin. Where Esther’s father moved to after Tolmenna was pulled down. On p.181, this was described as ‘… an old building on the further side of the stream [west side of the Withy Brook] – a building long used as a cowhouse or stable, with a roof to keep the interior dry, but was without window or chimney’. On p.184, it states ‘Happily no bullocks had been housed in the shed for a couple of years, so that it was in passably clean condition’. Southill Parish, p. 272 SX330 727. Adjoins Linkinhorne parish to the north Tolborough [Tor], p. 298,302 SX175 778. A granite tor rising to 348m (1131ft) to the north of the A30 in the middle of Bodmin Moor. There is a row of five stones running away to the south-east from the large cairn at the top. Sabine describes it (p.298) ‘… with a cairn crowning the summit, a chambered cairn with a passage leading into its depth, where dwelt the pixies’. On p.302 he refers to ‘… pixies dancing round the cairn’. Tolmenna, p. 87 Home of Esther Morideg. Not located precisely. On p. 87, Esther states that it is ‘under Boarrah’. On p.74 it states that to get to Curgenven, ‘… it is a long way over moor and stream’. Later in the novel (p.271) it appears to be ‘… past the Hurlers’, but this seems too far (6km) from ‘Curgenven’ to be plausible. Trebartha Hall, p. 312 SX262 777. This appears to be the house on which Curgenven Manor was based. It was an 800 year-old house destroyed by fire in1949.

In the Book of Cornwall, Sabine describes is as ‘… one of the loveliest sites in England, second in my mind only to Bolton Abbey’. Trebartha: The House By The Stream” by Bryan Latham (Hutchinson Press, 1971) describes the history of the house, the estate, the hamlet and the families that have lived in the area. Sabine stayed here on Aug. 21st 1891. Tresillan [Tresellern] Marsh, p.182 SX240 763. Adjoins Trewortha Marsh on the Withy Brook Tresillan Church, p.310 [SX240 762]. Reputedly sunk deep down in Tresellern Marsh and ‘… whose bells could be heard tolling for service’. Trevillian’s Gate, p. 326 SX163 839 A listed 18thC building in the parish of Davidstow. At one time in the 19C it was an inn. This is where Justinian left his horse when he set off across the moors to Brown Willy to find Esther. Trevisa Hill, p. 140 Not located, but near Liskeard Trewortha Marsh, p. 182 SX233 758 on the Withy Brook. A boggy area known in detail by Esther across which she escapes, but one that defeats the pursuing policeman. Trewortha Tor, p. 306 SX245758. A granite tor on the south side of the Withy Brook rising to 318m. Turnpike, p. 279. This is where Esther, with the ‘pistern’ that Theresa shot Mr Physic, meets the turnpike keeper, Mr Pike. It is not clear exactly where this turnpike is, but it appears to run down the Lynher Valley towards Liskeard. Webb’s Hotel, Liskeard, p.302. A Grade II listed building in Pike Street, Liskeard. This is where Percival ‘… dined at the ordinary at Webb’s Hotel’ whilst trying to get the murder of Mr Physic cleared up. Withy Brook, p. 182 SX250 726. Rises near the Cheesewring and flows NNW before turning eastwards to flow through Trewortha and Tresillan marshes and joining the R. Lynher near Curgenven.

Mrs Curgenven of Curgenven Becky Smith and Pat Tansell

The book was written during 1892, when Sabine was in his late fifties. It was published in the Cornhill Magazine in 11 instalments, soon followed by a three- volume edition by Methuen. The novel preceding it was In the Roar of the Sea, which was also Cornish. He also published an article about Trewortha that year. Before that came Urith and Arminell. It was followed by Cheap Jack Zita, The Queen of Love and Kitty Alone. Of those six novels, this is perhaps the best, although all the others have enthusiasts. The real bestsellers had all been written – Mehalah, John Herring, Red Spider – and BG’s reputation thoroughly established. There was an appetite for his novels, reviews were assured and sales reliable.

One of BG’s best novels, it is carefully constructed, with credible characters – on the whole. It repays a second or third reading, with the rich complexity more and more satisfying, although perhaps marred by the very savage treatment of the clergyman, Reverend Pamphlet. In some ways it is untypical – there is very little topographical description, for example, except for Trewortha, which was one of the places in Cornwall that BG knew well. In fact, he had been doing a lot of excavation work there shortly before writing this novel.

The construction is almost delicate at times. New characters are introduced gradually, with brief glimpses of them at first, before their importance becomes apparent.

The storyline is familiar. No Name by Wilkie Collins comes to mind. Also, Somehow Good by William de Morgan. They all involve the ramifications arising from invalid, ambiguous or missing wills, following inadvertent bigamy.

There is no evidence to prove whether Sabine knew of the case or not but there was a real case of bigamy by a person named Curgenven. In 1865, John Curgenven was sent to Bodmin Gaol after he admitted the charge against him. He had married his cousin Charlotte Langdon Curgenven at Veryan, Cornwall in September 1852 and then, having told Eliza Hardy that he was a widow, he married her at Portlemouth, Devon in July 1862.

Summary of the story – which is not easy. The estate of Curgenven has been inherited by Lambert, who is far from fitted to the position. His wife, Jane,

12 however, makes a perfect squiress or lady of the manor. She revels in it. When confronted by a first wife, rendering her marriage invalid, she flatly refuses to accept reality. This continues throughout the story. Lambert left a will in which he discloses his first marriage and leaves the estate to his daughter – Alice - by the second ‘wife’. An earlier will is the ‘official’ one, in which his cousin Percival takes over the squireship, but the second wife’s status is retained. This one is put into operation, and the lawyer suppresses the subsequent one.

Percival and his son Justinian move into the big house, and Percival quickly marries Theresa, Lambert’s first wife. Mr Physic, the lawyer, tries to blackmail first Jane, then Percival and finally Theresa, with the second will – which has undesirable implications for them all. Theresa pays him £300, but when he asks for a further £1000, she takes a stand and waves a gun at him – accidentally killing him.

Esther the moor-girl, witnesses this, and takes the blame onto herself. The final chapters focus mainly on her efforts to escape the police.

Theresa dies from emotional exhaustion, basically. This is made much worse by the stupidity of Percival and Justinian. They are both vague and incapable of following anything at all complex. To the end, they never really understand Theresa, and inadvertently say and do a lot to increase her distress.

She sees Lambert’s ghost, in a rather odd little scene.

Justinian marries Alice, thereby neatly retaining the position of squire, and his father lives with them. Esther marries the local police constable, and they drop out of civilisation, living freely on the moor. The ending reflects the opening, with Jane deploring the fact that her daughter is now Mrs Curgenven of Curgenven.

Let’s go through it again in more detail.

Chapter One opens with a speech by the character who gives the book its title, explaining it to her husband’s estate manager and solicitor, Mr Physic. We are told she is ‘good-looking’. Mr Physic looks like a pug, but he is very powerful in the community.

There are two Mrs Curgenvens – Lambert Curgenven marries Jane bigamously., in the groundless hope that his first wife has quietly and conveniently died. Mr Physic has been authorised to search for her, and makes a faint-hearted job of it. He is aware of the legal risks, but sees no serious hazard to himself. 13

When confronted by his two wives, Lambert promptly shoots himself. Subsequently, it is only the first wife who feels are grief for him, and that is rather tepid. His current wife, Jane, shows no sign of missing him – neither does his daughter, Alice. The passage of time in the story is never made clear, but the sense is that it all happens within no more than six months or so. Jane and Alice return to the vicarage where Jane grew up, and which is virtually adjacent to the big house of Curgenven.

Three women – Jane, Theresa and Esther - propel the story along, all of them vivid three-dimensional characters. They get considerably more page-space than the men – with Theresa the biggest player. The men in the story revolve around these women, their destinies influenced, even controlled, by them. Despite their apparent powerlessness, without these women there would be no story. It appears that BG deliberately made his male characters irresponsible, colourless and inert. However, the strongest relationship in the story is that between the father and son, Percival and Justinian. They have never been apart and show great concern for each other’s welfare.

There are three main male characters – Mr Physic, Percival and Justinian. The Reverend Pamphlet makes a fourth, as Alice Curgenven makes a fourth female. But there is also Thomasine (Tamsin), the grandmother with a ‘double iris’ who practises as a witch, using her ‘witch ladder’ and many other objects and plants that can both cure and curse as necessary, The Moridegs live in a paddock on the moor, in a house me of granite. (Pages 69 and 131)

Jane Curgenven is a complex character. She is the daughter of the entirely deplorable Reverend Pamphlet, a fact we are constantly reminded of. She has been brought up to regard appearances and social standing as of supreme importance. By nature, she is ‘not unkind’ and she devotes a lot of genuine attention to the village school. At the age of about 18 she married Lambert Curgenven, who had inherited the estate of Curgenven by a succession of accidents, becoming the local Squire in the process. Lambert is a careless irresponsible man, with little interest in the property he has inherited. He has been a sea captain, and now spends most of his time inventing automata and useless but entertaining gadgets. Jane believes that without her constant vigilance ‘the whole world would go into a dishevelled, slouching, happy-go- lucky condition.’ Like her father, she is terrified of social disapproval.

Theresa Curgenven was born to a shadowy gipsy couple, who died while she was a baby. A highborn lady adopted her and taught her the trappings of civilisation. She is a perfect example of the competing influences of nature and 14 nurture. Proud, but with little to be proud about. She has knocked about the world, performing on the stage, always short of money, unable to find a protective husband because of her early marriage to Lambert Curgenven. She has been perpetually pestered by suitors, offering – we assume – considerable improvements to her situation, but she turns them all away – unlike Lambert, who marries again regardless. She is a misfit wherever she goes.

Esther Morideg could lay claim to the role of heroine in the story. When we first meet her, she is a victim of Jane’s implacable discipline, which makes her cry. She has a witch-like grandmother, who curses Jane Curgenven. We are made very aware of two worlds colliding, with the Moridegs standing out as aliens at the respectable garden party. Later, Alice and Justinian make an effort to bridge these worlds, with minimal success. Esther is distressed by this.

The curse has immediate effect, with the almost magical appearance of Theresa, Lambert’s first wife. The Moridegs believe implicitly in magic, with the Good People, or pixies, a real presence for them.

On Lambert’s death, Jane persists in claiming her rights as his wife. With great difficulty, Mr Physic persuades her that she must give up the grand house and substantial estate, leaving it all to Lambert’s cousin Percival – or else suffer the humiliation of being discovered as not having been lawfully married. She has a daughter, Alice, and Percival has a son, Justinian.

Set pieces – the stream of demanding tenants and dignitaries approaching Percival (mentioned in the Western Morning News review) when he takes possession of the Curgenven estate. The descriptions of the Scottish home of Jane’s sister. The meeting of Jane and Theresa in the church. They escalate towards the end of the story – Esther’s escape, Justinian’s epic night-time trek to find her.

By the halfway point, not a great deal has happened. We know that Mr Physic is the villain of the piece. Not only does he cheat and lie as a matter of course, but he has the intention of evicting the Morideg family from their moorland home, so as to open a mine on the land they occupy. This he actually does, in another set piece, where the community all rally to the assistance of the moorland family. When Physic is confronted by decent behaviour based on ethical standards, he is puzzled. Both Jane and Percival Curgenven put reputation and self-respect ahead of financial gain, much to Mr Physic’s confusion. Since we are given no information about the man’s earlier life, we are left with the implication that it is his profession that explains his total lack of morality or finer feeling. 15

The main event by the midway is the offstage marriage of Theresa and Percival., after the very briefest of acquaintance. We see the proposal, in fine detail, and then jump to the universally negative reactions amongst the rest of the cast. Jane is appalled, Justinian is jealous and upset, Mr Physic assumes dishonest motives on the part of Theresa.

But we have had hints as to what is yet to come. We have seen Esther running through the marshes of Bodmin moor, swift and sure-footed. We have the suspense concerning Jane’s situation, and concern for Theresa with her poor health and inability to take any independent action. It is, in short, the women in the story who engage our interest, much more than the men. Mr Physic and Reverend Pamphlet are both caricatures, with simple motives and lack of any human understanding. Percival is rootless and ill-defined. Justinian is equally unformed. They are likeable enough, but not reliable. Their shoulders are not broad enough to carry the story and the action forward. Even the barely- glimpsed Bathsheba (Percival’s housekeeper) and Thomasina (Esther’s grandmother) have a more energetic influence on what happens next. Alice, however, is never more than two-dimensional, showing no feelings about her father’s death, no obvious love for Justinian. She is friendly towards Esther, and nothing more than that. The complications of the will require close concentration from the reader – and the depths of Mr Physic’s iniquity are not always credibly presented. We are not sure, for some time, whether or not he made a copy of the will, for example. Only as justification for Theresa having killed him are we told the worst.

The story reaches a climax with Esther being rescued from starvation and exposure, and taken to Constable Trevaskis’s house. Almost carelessly, it is decided that she did not shoot Physic. Instead it is deemed that his death was suicide. Here, Sabine has again been careful with the plotting, to ensure that the alternative story has enough apparent evidence to be convincing.

The setting, as I said earlier, is much less vivid than many other BG novels. There are two short descriptions of Liskeard. The first simply says, ‘Liskeard is not a place to which persons of independent means were attracted’, and then later, in Chapter 34, we have this:

‘The town of Liskeard is a strange one. The first question the visitor asks is; ‘What can have brought it there?’ It does not occupy the ridge or spur of a hill, as one that has gathered round a border castle; it does not occupy a valley by a river, as one that has nestled about an abbey; it is not planted at a convergence of roads, as one that lives and thrives on commerce. It consists of a multitude of houses tumbled promiscuously over steep hill and narrow dale, so that the chimneys of one house throw their smoke in at the windows 16

of another, and a street is contorted as literally as a letter ‘S’ and undulates vertically as a switchback railway.

The reason why Liskeard is a town, and was planted where it is, must be sought down a narrow lane that leads to a great unfailing, limpid spring, pouring forth a flood of the purest water through four orifices. The old British saints loved to settle by springs of water, and there is hardly a church in Cornwall that is not associated with a holy well. No well in the country is so copious, so marvellous in its unfailing supply, as that of Liskeard. It may have received divine homage in pagan times; it certainly received consecration by some shaggy Celtic hermit; he settled by it, wrought miracles with its water, and his cell became the nucleus of a town.’

Even later in the book, we finally come to the more detailed and well-informed account of Trewortha and its marsh. Not until Chapter 49 does BG really let himself go, with a page of geological explanation for the formations of the area. ‘Trewortha Marsh is probably unique,’ he tells us in the first line of the chapter, before going back through the millennia of changes that have made it what it is.

One is tempted to suspect that it was Sabine’s recent experience of excavating the Trewortha area that gave him the impetus for writing this story. If so, he restrains himself from describing it, or using it in the plot, until almost at the end of the tale. Having fallen into the bog himself – an event he describes in at least two places in other writings – he cannot resist inflicting the same fate on one of his characters. The setting is brought to life with great skill, as is that of the moor in general. We readily enter into the community around Curgenven and Liskeard, as the story progresses, enjoying the Dickensian touches and the convolutions that are mostly set in train by Mr Physic, the corrupt solicitor.

The moral ambiguities are kept at the forefront, from the start. We are invited to cast judgement on Lambert, Percival, Reverend Pamphlet, and most of the other characters in turn, until we reach the great central climax when Theresa kills Mr Physic and Esther immediately offers to shoulder the blame. The implications of this are so complex and powerful that Theresa dies of the strain of accepting and acting on them. Percival and Justinian never seem to grasp what really happened – they are bewildered to the end, but also self-satisfied and incurious. Justinian is destined to become a Justice of the Peace, Chairman of Governors ‘and all that sort of thing’. Reverend Pamphlet becomes an Archdeacon, as he has wished for throughout the story. The right men in the right places, says BG, ironically. In essence, the only person who gets his just desserts is Mr Physic. The others are promoted beyond their capabilities, or forced to compromise. Esther, for example, was in love with Justinian, but couldn’t have him. Jane is permitted to keep the secret of her invalid marriage. 17

The Moridegs suffer the upheaval of having their home destroyed, through no fault of their own, and have to build it back up for themselves.

The last line of the book echoes the first – spoken by Jane.

The Folklore of Bodmin Moor Katherine Stansfield

To understand the folklore of Bodmin Moor, it’s necessary to understand the place itself. Parson R.S. Hawker, writing in 1870, offers a useful historical insight:

‘There is no part of our native country of England so little known, no region so seldom trodden by the feet of the tourist or the traveller, as the middle moorland of old Cornwall. […] Throughout this district there is, even in these days, but very scanty sign of human habitation. Two or three recent and solitary roads traverse the boundaries; here and there, the shafts and machinery of a mine announce the existence of underground life; a few clustered cottages or huts, for the shepherds, are sprinkled among the waste; but the vast and uncultured surface of the soil is suggestive of the bleak steppes of Tartary or the far wilds of Australia’.1

This landscape – its shape, its weather, its soil – impacted on every aspect of the lives of those who lived here in Hawker’s day and who continue to make their home here. There are still very few roads across the moor; the people who lived there well into in the twentieth century moved about on foot or on horseback. They cut the moor’s turf for fuel. They grew what crops they could, grazed their animals. They mined it. They quarried it. The moor was the place they lived, and it gave them their living, but before the twentieth century it could be a hard life. Today, the moor remains a place that demands caution and which shapes beliefs.

A hundred years after Hawker wrote his description, not much had changed, as shown by this guidance from local historian Pat Munn, writing in 1972:

‘Should you explore the inner moor, set out no later than noon and choose a fine day. Take with you a compass, a torch and a whistle, the Ordnance Survey map 186, some rope and provisions. With these and in waterproof clothing and stout footwear, you and your companions will be prepared. For the moor can be dangerous, its bogs lying in wait between the greener grass and abandoned industrial works enticing the curious’.2

This is a landscape that wants to harm the unwary.

1 Robert Stephen Hawker, Footprints of Former Men in Far Cornwall (London: Westaway Books, 1870: 1948), p.29 2 Pat Munn, The Story of Cornwall’s Bodmin Moor (Bodmin: Bodmin Books, 1972: 1976) p.7 19

1. Marsh and Stones Those who live on the moor really have to know the landscape to stay safe, which we see in Esther’s knowledge of the marsh when she outruns the constables. In such vast open tracts of land, beset with hazards, landmarks take on a special kind of significance, becoming mystical or talismanic. The moor is comprised of large granite outcrops and undulating plains. It’s one of the wettest places in the UK, and the rainfall drains down into these little valleys that can soon become treacherous. In his Book of the West, Baring-Gould refers to ‘really ghastly bogs’ at the feet of Roughtor and Brown Willy: ‘marshes worse than anything of the sort on Dartmoor, places to which you hardly desire to consign your worst enemies, always excepting promoters of certain companies. I really should enjoy seeing them flounder there’.3 A good way to avoid drowning in a marsh is to use landmarks to guide you and a well-known example is Dozmare Pool.

The pool is actually an inland lake, in sight of Roughtor and Brown Willy. A rare source of fresh water in the middle of the moor, it’s likely that the pool has long been a place of local significance, and there are numerous associated with it. The most famous is that the pool is the home of the Lady of the Lake, from whom King Arthur receives the sword Excalibur, and where the sword is returned as Arthur lies dying on the battlefield. This is obviously quite a lofty, antiquarian belief that I doubt would have been common amongst working people, those akin to the Moridegs. But what was common amongst moorland people was the belief that the pool was bottomless, until a severe drought in 1890 proved this wasn’t the case.4 Dozmare Pool features in Mrs Curgenven as the place Tamsin Morideg throws her witch ladder, in the belief that when the ropes that bind her curses begin to rot, the curses will rise to the surface as bubbles and take effect. I’ll explore more about these kinds of curses later on.

Other landmarks that loom large in the lives of moorland people are pieces of granite, or moorstone as it’s known on the moor. The stones have all sorts of folklore attached to them. There are two groups of stones on Bodmin Moor: natural formations such as the Cheesewring, and man-made arrangements, with the Hurlers being a well- known example.

Given the often odd appearance of the natural formations, it’s hardly surprising that earlier generations, lacking scientific explanations, should turn to what we might consider superstition and folklore.5

3 Sabine Baring-Gould, A Book of the West, Being an Introduction to Devon and Cornwall (London: Methuen, second edition 1902), p.124. 4 Pat Munn, The Story of Cornwall’s Bodmin Moor, p. 92. 5 Philip Payton, Cornwall: A History (Fowey: Cornwall Editions, 1996: 2004), p.3. 20

In the nineteenth century, antiquarians began recording these stories – men such as Robert Hunt and William Bottrell, and Baring-Gould too, of course.

‘Typically, natural rock formations were seen to have inherent supernatural powers of their own, or were otherwise the work of giants. A more sinister overlay intimated dark Druidical rites among the rock basins, with lurid tales of human sacrifice persisting so strongly that even the Rev. William Borlase, the eighteenth-century antiquarian who was in many ways the father of modern geological and archaeological studies, readily attributed the natural monuments to the work of the druids’.6

A popular tale associated with the Cheesewring is that the top-most stone turned three times at the sound of a cock crow.7

Another famous natural rock formation is the Men-an-Tol, which of course features in Mrs Curgenven, but to achieve this, Baring-Gould has moved it from its actual resting place in Morvah, south Cornwall. In Cornish the name means ‘the hole stone’. In the novel, Esther believes that couples whose hands are joined through the stone are bound, destined to be married. There are several other beliefs associated with this stone, all ‘activated’ when a person crawls through it

• Healing: cures back pain, rickets, scrofula • Fertility: if a woman is passed feet first through the Men-an-Tol ring stone seven times during a full moon she will soon fall pregnant • Guardianship: a piskie (Cornish pixie) waits at the stone and can undo ill-wishes (i.e. curses – more on which to come) • Foretell the future: Robert Hunt recorded that if two brass pins were laid crosswise on top of each other on the ring-stone they would move of their own accord depending on the whether the answer to a question was yes or no.8

In the novel, the Moridegs have taken the stone for their own purposes, to use for building their house, which was a common practice. People have long made use of moorstone, regardless of its antiquity. Bodmin Moor contains many Neolithic and early Bronze Age structures, including cairns:

‘A cairn is the upland equivalent of an earthen barrow and is constructed chiefly of the readily available stone, although earth may also have been used. Some were sited where they would be most visibly prominent against the

6 Payton, Cornwall: A History, p.3 7 Ibid 8 All sourced from ‘Men-an-Tol Stones’, Britain Explorer, https://britainexplorer.com/listing/men-an-tol/ (accessed 16th March 2019) 21

skyline; [ . . .] As burial places or memorials to the dead they no doubt commanded great respect and, standing high on the moorland, they have been spared cultivation with the plough’.9

Quoits are a similar sight on the moor. A famous example is the Trethevy Quoit, a Neolithic Dolmen burial chamber. These reminders of the dead are all over this landscape, acting as landmarks but also as symbols of mortality and the mysteries of the past. But with the pragmatism born of the hard life on the moor, people have used them for their own ends, and not just for building. Moorland stone have also been used for ideological purposes, of which the Hurlers are a good example.

The Hurlers are a grouping of three Late Neolithic or Early Bronze Age stone circles. English Heritage states that this form of grouping is extremely rare in England, and a grouping of three such regular circles is unique.10 The mystery of this kind of structure gave rise to folklore, of course, and in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in Cornwall this tended to have a particularly Methodist slant. As Baring Gould tells us in his Book of the West: ‘The legend is that some men were hurling the ball on Sunday, whilst a couple of pipers played to them. As a judgement for desecrating the Lord’s day they were all turned into stone’.11 Many of the stories associated with stones on the moor involve Sabbath-breaking.

2. Church, Chapel, Devil In his book on Hawker, Baring-Gould sums up the vacuum in the church towards the end of the eighteenth century:

‘The condition of the Church in the diocese of Exeter at the time when John Wesley appeared was piteous in the extreme. Non-residence was the rule: the services of the sanctuary were performed in the most slovenly manner, the sacraments were administered rarely and without due reverence in too many places, and pastoral visitation was neglected’.12

Hawker himself tells us that he was the first resident incumbent in his parish of Morwenstow for almost a hundred years. In considering the rise of Methodism in Cornwall for the purposes of this talk, one statistic in particular is enlightening: John

9 Pamela Bousfield, ‘Pre-History’ in A History of St Breward by the St Breward History Group (n.p. 1988), p. 2. 10 ‘History of the Hurlers Stone Circles’, English Heritage, https://www.english- heritage.org.uk/visit/places/hurlers-stone-circles/history/ (accessed 16th March 2019). 11 Sabine Baring-Gould, A Book of the West, Cornwall, p. 107. 12 Sabine Baring-Gould, The Vicar of Morwenstow: Being a Life of Robert Stephen Hawker (London: Methuen, 1899: 1913), pp. 128-9. 22

Wesley toured Cornwall thirty-one times between 1743 and 1789.13. He was often focusing on the more densely populated southern parts of Cornwall, where mining had swelled the population (and the poverty), but to do so he had to cross Bodmin Moor so his influence was felt there, and chapels followed in his wake. Trewint Cottage in Altarnun, right on the moor, is where he often rested and preached when in this area, and which became a place of great importance for Cornish Methodism.

Like many religious groups, the Methodists didn’t destroy the beliefs that preceded theirs – they co-opted and transformed them. 14 This leads to one of the many paradoxes we see in Cornwall in terms of belief systems during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries: a mix of beliefs and cultures, old and new, with sometimes a sense of covering all one’s bases. Some examples include:

• The Methodists’ use of the ‘magical’ transformative powers of ancient stones even as they seek to challenge belief in this kind of ‘superstition’, exemplified by the Hurlers • Parson Hawker at Morwenstow, in his own published work, proclaimed his firm belief in devils who tried to assail him on the cliff path as he rode his pony between services on a Sunday. He’s known as much for his conviction that the ‘evil eye’ existed as he is for his high-church ritualism • When I was researching my novel Falling Creatures (set in 1844), I learnt that when a new chapel opened in the Halworthy area, many working people went to both the chapel and the church, to keep their options open

Baring-Gould has a useful anecdote on this subject:

‘In the parish of Altarnon [sic] was an old pious Wesleyan, and when the weather was too bad for him to go to chapel he was wont to go to one of the crosses of granite that stood near his cottage, kneel there, and say his prayers. He died not long ago’.15

Crosses such as these were erected by the early Christian church, often as way- finders for pilgrims (Munn p.22).16 For people who lived on the moor, they acted as physical reminders of the church’s presence, even as the chapels began to appear.

Another physical reminder of the early church, and the ways in which spiritual beliefs are transformed, is the large number of holy wells dedicated to saints. It’s thought there are around two hundred of these wells in Cornwall and the Scilly Isles, and Bodmin Moor is no exception.

13 Munn, The Story of Cornwall’s Bodmin Moor, p. 68. 14 Payton, Cornwall: A History, p. 13. 15 Sabine Baring-Gould, A Book of the West, Cornwall, p. 39 16 Munn, The Story of Cornwall’s Bodmin Moor, p. 22. 23

Holy wells tended to be sites that had long been invested with importance, often near water which is of course so basic to human existence. A common belief was that a deity guarded the site and need to be thanked in some way, through offerings of various kinds. When Christian missionaries began to arrive in Cornwall from Ireland and Wales in the sixth century, very often their veneration was focused at these existing places of ‘worship’, and re-branded to reflect the new arrivals.

3. Charms and Charmers Many wells in Cornwall are said to have curative powers:

‘The trees and bushes around the well are used to tie, or impale, pieces of cloth upon. The strip of material is torn from a garment belonging to, and worn by, the person seeking relief for some ailment or affliction, and is left by the well after the charm or prayer has been invoked’.17

These pieces of cloth were known as ‘clouties’. In his work on the saints, Baring- Gould was aware of such practices, and rather scornful. This is what he says of them in his Book of the West:

‘I doubt if any Cornish people are so foolish as to do such a thing as suspend rags about a well with the idea of these rags serving as an oblation to the patron of the spring for the sake of obtaining benefits from him’.18

Baring-Gould is writing here at the end of the nineteenth century, but on a visit to St Nectan’s Glen near Boscastle in 2017, clouties were very much in evidence. The person who is responsible for the enduring association of St Nectan with this area is none other than Robert Stephen Hawker who created the myth of Nectan having a hermitage here. When I was growing up, I often found these clouties on the moor, tied to Hawthorn trees, as well as bent pins, presumably used to ask questions, just as in the case of the Men-an-Tol. Charming, too, was still being practiced when I was growing up on Bodmin Moor in the early 1990s.

There are three kinds of charmer:

• ‘Peller: probably derived from ‘repeller’ or ‘expeller’ of evil spells. If an illness was believed to have been caused by the sufferer being ill-wished, the peller could dispel the evil and ‘charm’ away the illness • Wise ones: those who could recognize ill-wishing but couldn’t do anything about it

17 Rose Mullins, White Witches: A Study of Charmers (Launceston: PR Publishing, n.d.) p.8. 18 Sabine Baring-Gould, A Book of the West, Cornwall, p. 32. 24

• Charmers: healers who used their knowledge of herbal remedies and charms, along with ‘paranormal power’.19

In Mrs Curgenven, Tamsin Morideg is said to be a cunning woman. That could refer to charming, but her creation of the witch ladder, into which she binds curses for Physic, suggests she’s a peller. If someone can remove ill-wishing, presumably they can apply it too.

The witch ladder itself isn’t a particularly Cornish tradition. The first documented example was found in Somerset in 1878.20 These objects still appear to be used in witchcraft practices today, and you can buy them online. In preparing this talk, I found one on the craft marketplace site Etsy, for which the description read, ‘This witches’ ladder is created to bring you good fortune and prosperity while protecting you from loss. It can be used as a talisman to hang near a door, window, or alter [sic]. It can also be used as a meditation tool, to focus on the good things you wish to bring into your life or carried [sic] with you’. This is of course the opposite of Tamsin’s intentions!

Turning our attention back to the nineteenth century, it’s hard to know how widespread cunning men and women were, but this letter to the county-wide newspaper The West Briton, published in 1856, gives a sense of the scale:

‘It is humiliating to think that there are such characters . . . as gipsies, witches, conjurors, fortune-tellers, and charmers . . . living now, in this nineteenth century, and artfully earning a livelihood out of the credulity of mankind. And, strange to tell, vast numbers of people love to have it so. If they are out of health, or lose animals by disease or accident, they straightaway conclude that they are bewitched, and away they go to the professed conjuror. It used to be Johnny Hooper of Laddock; it is now Mr ______Thomas of Nanstallan, in the parish of Bodmin. This man carries on a flourishing trade in the conjuring way, and seldom goes home from a fair or market quite sober, and withal is an immodest snuff-taker’.21

Well-known examples of these ‘gipsies, witches and conjurors’ are two women from the Helston area, which was seemingly a hotbed of charmers. Tamsin Blight was known as the White Witch of Helston; fishermen asked her for charms to keep them safe at sea, and farmers asked her for cures for sick animals. Is her name a link to

19 Rose Mullins, White Witches, p. 6. 20 Chris Wingfield, ‘Witches' Ladder: the hidden history’, http://england.prm.ox.ac.uk/englishness-witchs-ladder.html (accessed 16th March 2019) 21 Letter to The West Briton, 1856, reproduced in Life in Cornwall in the Late Nineteenth Century, ed. Rita Barton (Truro: Bradford Barton, 1972) p.21. 25

Tamsin Morideg? Granny Boswell was of Romany stock and known as a fortune teller.

In terms of the work of charming, those who were curing rather than harming would use a mixture of words and plants or objects in their work. Some common issues that cunning women, charmers and wise ones were asked to deal with included sickness in animals, adder bites, and getting rid of warts. The latter was achieved by rubbing the afflicted area with bread or meat or cloth, then burying whatever was used. As this rotted, the warts would fall away. Another common task was removing the evil eye; on this matter, Hawker was confident as to its prevalence:

‘I do not exaggerate when I affirm at all events my own persuasion, that two- thirds of the total inhabitants of Tamar side [Cornwall] implicitly believe in the power of the Mal Occhio, as the Italians name it, or the Evil Eye’.22(Footprints, p.102)

Hawker included himself in this percentage of believers, and when he met someone he believed had the evil eye, he made a special sign with his hand to ward off their powers. 23 He had his own local white witch in Morwenstow, known as Sally Found:

‘Local people believed she could cast spells on their livestock and even conduct thunder and lightning. Her husband took his name from being found in an outhouse as a babe and was always employed by Hawker during harvest time as otherwise he said something was sure to go wrong’.24

Again, we can see the pragmatism of belief here, the tendency to ‘cover one’s bases’.

Another routine task for white witches was to stop bleeding. Here’s one such charm, which in its prayer-like incantation shows the relationship between these beliefs and scripture:

Christ was born in Bethlehem; Baptized in the River Jordan. The river stood – So shall they blood [say the patient’s name] In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. (White Witches, p.12)

Calling on white witches to stop bleeding is perhaps unsurprising in a world where accidents were common and often fatal. The main moorland industries of farming,

22 Hawker, Footprints of Former Men in Far Cornwall, p. 102. 23 H. L. Lewis, In the Footsteps of Robert Stephen Hawker (Truro: Cornwall Council, 2009) p. 17. 24 Ibid 26 mining and quarrying meant dangerous occupations. With no healthcare in the way that we would recognize it, people would turn to anything that might help, and if you believed in the abilities of white witches, people like Tamsin Morrideg, then you wouldn’t want to cross them.

Your life might depend on it.

A Witch Ladder

Priests, Pastors and Prelates in the Novels of Baring-Gould Norman Wallwork

In his tome The Church Revival Baring-Gould looks back to his earliest ecclesiastical memories:

‘When I was a boy, in my neighbourhood all the clergy with two exceptions were in theory High Churchmen. One of the exceptions was a very worthy, spiritually-minded man who served two churches, and was mildly Evangelical; the other was the Vicar of Tavistock. The vicars there were appointed by the Whig Dukes of Bedford, who always nominated men of no definite Church opinions’.25

Vicars of ‘no definite Church opinions’ were one of Baring-Gould’s bêtes noires and the majority of clergy featured in his novels bear this characteristic.

As we shall see, Baring-Gould’s senior clergy, bishops, deans and cathedral canons only appear as minor characters and are without exception either rogues, villains or fools. The parish parsons carrying a more significant part in his novels are generally treated with slightly more mercy.

The dissenting ministers of his novels do not fare well. Dislike of non-conformity ran deep in the Lew Trenchard tradition. When, in 1788, Madam Gould of Lew Trenchard lost her son, she drove one Saturday, in her coach, to Courtlands, Exmouth to visit the household of her daughter. Margaret, her heiress apparent was married to Charles Baring. On the Sunday Charles Baring took his mother-in-law to worship at Lympstone dissenting chapel – to the enlargement of which Charles had contributed. Madam Gould sat grim and motionless throughout the service and silent in the carriage on the return to Courtlands. As soon as she was in the hall she ordered her coach. She declined the invitation to dinner.

‘I will not eat with you, nor visit you again' I leave at once. And, Charles, never whilst I live shall you set foot in Lew House, and never shall you or Margaret inherit an acre there. I shall leave everything to my grandson William’.

And, says Baring-Gould, Charles Baring never did set foot in Lew House.

A minority of the novels featuring clergy are set in historic times including Pabo the Priest in 12th century Wales, Noémi in 15th century France, The Chorister in the

25 The Church Revival 1914 p. 70 28

Cambridge of 1637 during the Civil War, and Urith in the West Country of Monmouth’s rebellion in 1685.

Pabo the Priest, 1899 Beginning with Pabo the Priest we are in the twelfth century Wales. The bishopric of St. David’s falls vacant. In order to irritate and subjugate the Welsh, Henry 1st chooses as the new bishop, Bernard, a felonious Flemish steward from the Queen’s household. Henry compels Bernard to renounce his wife. The king then arranges for Bernard to be priested and consecrated, at a day’s notice, as Bishop of St David’s and Primate of all Wales. Behind the undue haste is the bypassing of the legitimate successor to the Welsh bishopric – Daniel, the hereditary native Celtic candidate.

Bernard, the upstart bishop, is a middle-sized man with sandy hair, pale eyes that seem without depth, a peak of a nose, a mouth resembling a slit and a chin and jowl strongly marked. The steward become bishop is devoid of the Welsh language and culture and is charged with filling vacant Celtic ecclesial livings with a spy-ring of English clerics. Bernard is to force on to the church in Wales the full might of the Latin Church and its Roman rites. Local Celtic Christian usages are to be suppressed – not least those pertaining to Latin marriage laws and wedded clergy.

Baring-Gould’s hero, Pabo, is a native Welsh Archpriest and hereditary chieftain of his tribe. He is a tall man, with dark hair and large deep eyes, soft as those of an ox, yet capable of flashing fire. He is thirty-five, grave and intense of face. At his first encounter with the new prelate, Pabo reacts to the bishop’s outrageous insult to his wife. With incandescent Welsh blood rising in his veins Pabo strikes Bishop Bernard, bloodies his mouth and breaks his teeth.

Protected by the secrecy the whole community the priestly Pabo goes into exile and survives in a hermit’s cell. The authorities are deceived into believing that Pabo has perished on a funeral pyre. But he is ultimately revealed as alive. One native hostage a day is to be hanged unless the people’s Archpriest gives himself up. Returning, Pabo is cast into prison. But through a Welsh royal connection he escapes. News of the Celtic community’s integrity and of Bishop Bernard’s greed reaches Henry at court. Pabo is restored to his people as their Archpriest and a racially mixed principality ensues under Norman law and Welsh custom.

Noémi,1895 - The Bishop of Sarlat Noémi - the story of warring factions among the French and English in 15th century France - is partly set in a district ruled and protected by the Bishop of Sarlat.

The secular warrior prelate is an amiable, frightened, and feeble man, little suited to coping with the difficulties of his situation. He prays to the relic of the Holy Napkin 29 and uses and despises Jews. He is far from being an energetic ruler. He promises incessantly to intervene to his utmost but rarely raises an episcopal finger.

Urith: A Tale of Dartmoor, finished 1889 – The Reverend Luke Claverdon The novel Urith provides us with the 17th century parson Luke Claverdon ordained by the Bishop of Exeter to the curacy of Peter and Mary Tavy parishes.

A character featured throughout the novel, Luke is a tall, gaunt young man, with large soft brown eyes, and a pale face, who is scrupulously attired in correct clerical costume - a cassock and knee-breeches, white bands, and a three-cornered hat.

Luke’s life has not begun happily. His parents die when he is young. Anthony Claverdon senior, of the Hall estate, only grumblingly takes charge of the boy Luke. As head of the estate he resents the behaviour of his brother in dying, and encumbering him with the care of a delicate nephew.

Luke predates the birth the younger Anthony Claverdon, his cousin. There was therefore a time when Anthony senior feared the Hall estate would devolve on his frail, white-faced, and timid nephew.

Fond of books and unsuited to farming an estate Luke had been sent away to school and academia before obtaining the local curacy.

Like Baring-Gould himself, Luke relishes the pre-historic antiquities of Dartmoor. Anthony senior leaves Luke to sustain himself on the miserable salary that the non- resident Rector pays to his curate.

The childhood friendship between Luke and Urith Malvine matures as one becomes a curate in charge of souls and the other grows into the full bloom of womanhood.

Luke, coming to appreciate Urith’s beauty, grows to love her deeply. Hopelessly, he fights many a battle to conquer a passion which his judgement tells him must be subdued. A wild undisciplined girl could never be moulded into the proper mate for a village pastor.

Without patron or prospect Luke has to live and die a curate unable to support a wife. The passion he cannot conquer he holds in control. Though the glamour of the woman for whom he burns dazzles and confuses Luke the object of the curate’s passion knows nothing of it.

Urith, in any case, is preoccupied with her love for Anthony Claverdon the younger. At the same time, she begs Luke unsparingly to intercede with the Claverdon 30 household hostile to the burgeoning relationship. Luke spends sleepless nights struggling to reconcile his pleading for Urith and Anthony with the longings in his own heart. Added to which Luke has doubts about the union of the prodigal Anthony and the passionate and sullen Urith.

Luke tries to warn Anthony junior that setting up a household with Urith will require more than passion. But Anthony takes the view that whereas he understands the world of love, his cousin understands only the world of Hebrew and Greek! To Anthony Luke is no more than the interfering parson.

The day arrives when, in anguish of heart, Luke publishes the couple’s banns of marriage. In the vestry afterwards squire Claverdon threatens Luke with the intervention of the rector. Luke finally turns on the Squire Anthony and rebukes him for his past injustices to two generations of Urith’s family.

Urith’s emerging tragedy is to be laid at the door of schemestress Julian Crymes who sets her cap at the recently married Anthony. Even when Luke Claverdon surmises that Anthony might fall in battle at the Duke of Monmouth’s side or meet the gallows, the curate still believes he could not dare to take a widowed Urith to himself. When the ruined squire, Anthony senior, sets up home-made gallows to hang himself it is Luke who stays the hand of suicide and persuades his uncle to play the man.

As the novel, closes, it is only Luke Claverdon who successfully predicts that the unforgiving Anthony senior will finally be reconciled to his family. And, as the Claverdon monument below the communion-rails at Peter Tavy was finally to indicate, Luke Claverdon, far from remaining the curate of his parish ultimately became its rector.

The Chorister: A Tale of King’s College Chapel in the Civil Wars (1854) – The Reverend James Fleetwood and The Puritan divine, Zedekiah Pluckover Set in the Cambridge of 1637, there are two clerics in what we may regard as Baring- Gould’s earliest novel and short story. The first cleric, The Reverend James Fleetwood is a Fellow of Kings and persuades one of the choristers, the gentle and intellectual fifteen-year-old William of Granchester to procure the services of his glazier uncle. Secretly together by cover of darkness, they will remove and bury the threatened stained glass from the chapel.

The other cleric is the Puritan divine, Zedekiah Pluckover. A minister greatly annoyed to discover that he has been thwarted in his intentions. The panels have been removed and secreted away. And all before he could superintend the pulling down and destroying of the chapel’s stained-glass with its ‘foul emblems of Popery, and of the woman that sitteth on the beast!’ 31

Zedekiah Pluckover is also the spiritual guide and director of the young Josiah Everett, whose budding parliamentarian sympathies are sufficiently developed for him to betray his fellow-chorister, William of Granchester.

Towards the end of Friday matins parliamentary soldiers and an officer walk into the choir stalls at King’s and arrest The Reverend James Fleetwood. Without time to remove his white surplice the priest-fellow is escorted through the Cambridge streets to the old Castle.

Though a mere chorister, the young William of Grantchester is brought into the King’s ante-chapel, now a stable and army billet with a kindled fire. Minister Pluckover arrives to interrogate William. When William admits the windows are safely hidden but refuses to reveal their whereabouts Pluckover squeezes the blood out of William’s hand.

A second interrogation of William is headed jointly by Minister Pluckover and no less than Cromwell himself. Chorister William is condemned to death. Standing before the altar he is greeted by his treasured friend and priest-fellow. The Fellow of Kings challenges the cruelty of Cromwell – but in vain. Cromwell gives the signal and chorister William is shot dead. Fleetwood lays the lifeless body before the altar.

Cheap Jack Zita (1893) – The Dean and Chapter of Ely Cheap Jack Zita is set in 1816 and opens in the cathedral yard at Ely with the Cheap Jack offering his wares within twenty yards of the Bishop’s palace. The Bishop himself is in an upper room, ensconced behind a curtain and laughing at the antics below till his black episcopal apron ripples, his bald head waxes pink and his calves quiver.

Baring-Gould tells us there were no squires in the Isle of Ely. Every acre of land belonged to either the Bishop or the Dean and Chapter – a situation that paralysed all initiative. The Bishop, the Dean and the canons got their groceries, their drugs, their wines and their stationery from the Ely tradesmen. In return for their custom, these tradesmen professed the strictest churchmanship and the staunchest Toryism.

The magistrates were connected to the Chapter by marriage. The constables were nominated on the basis of their piety. The lawyer, the surgeon, the surveyor, the architect, the justices and the chief constable were each kept on a child’s leash the bishop, the dean and the archdeacon.

When the mob from Littleport entered Ely hoping to meet up with their compatriots from Islesham and Swaffham the Bishop had already taken his household with him on a confirmation tour.

In Dewisland (1903-1904) In Dewisland is set west Wales, in the early 1840s, during the turnpike riots by the tenant farmers. Baring-Gould authentically portrays the Rebecca Rioters. Men disguised as women called themselves ‘Rebecca and her daughters’ after the biblical Rebecca in Genesis who would find blessing in possessing the gate her enemies. (Genesis XXIV, verse 60).

John Evans is a witness as the rioters attack Peter Sturgis’ turnpike, chopping the gate into wooden chips as they proceed. As the military descends the Rebeccaites flee throwing their female disguises into the crowd of onlookers.

In a cowering knot stood a number of those who had been passive lookers-on, hemmed in by the soldiery. Ridiculous among them, and suddenly under arrest was, Canon Jenkyns, one of the canons of St. David’s Cathedral. There he stood with a woman's frilled cap on his head and a red cloak over his shoulders, that had been clapped on him by one of the Rebeccaites when about to make an escape.

The canon is arrested, along with Deacon Howell of the Calvinist chapel, who has a bundle of the offending wooden chips, under his arm. Canon Jenkyns, one of five subsequently summoned to appear in court, has to explain to the magistrates that it was a total fluke that he came to be disguised as a Rebeccaite – wearing a woman's frilled cap on his head and a red cloak over his shoulders. The magistrate gives the canon permission to leave the court announcing that he might depart without a stain on his character.

The Frobishers: A Story of the Staffordshire Potteries, 1901 In The Frobishers we have a brief encounter with a South Staffordshire rector - The Reverend Mr. Barker. Dinner is held at Pendabury on the evening after the opening of the hunt.

‘The rector sat on Joan’s right hand. He was an amiable, elderly man, with grey hair and whiskers that were white ; a man such as an Established Church can alone produce, and produce to an almost unlimited extent; we1l-bred, well- educated, harmless in life, and best described by a series of negatives.

In an Established Church, patrons, whether public or private, whether crown or mitre, chancellor or squire, seek to promote only such men as are colourless in opinion and deficient of independence of character, who they may be sure

will give no offence in anything, that the ministry be not blamed, and that they will, in this one quality, sum up all their characteristics.

Mr. Barker, rector of the parish, was a keen angler, an enthusiastic bee-keeper, and a conscientious parish priest’.

Court Royal: A Story of Cross Currents, written 1884, published 1886 Court Royal provides us with a principal clerical character – one in the list of Baring- Gould’s pathetic parsons.

Beavis, the seventh and widowed Duke of Kingsbridge has two younger brothers. The middle brother, Lord Ronald Eveleigh, also widowed is a retired general living on half-pay. By courtesy of his Grace the old soldier has settled at Court Royal with his own rooms.

The youngest brother, Lord Edward Eveleigh is the Venerable, the Archdeacon of Wellington, a Canon of Glastonbury, Rector of Sleepy Hollow and Chaplain to his brother. Lord Edward’s wife, Lady Elizabeth, is known as the Archdeaconess and the Grey Mare of Sleepy Hollow!

The permanent strains on the household finances at Court Royal frequently require the Archdeacon to be in residence either to assist in the book-keeping or to underwrite some of the more pressing debts of the Kingsbridge estates.

To increase his already pluralistic income the Archdeaconess cannot understand why her husband has not been made a bishop. After all he has never offered an opinion on any topic, political or ecclesiastical, that could be objected to by anyone. He is most tolerant. He gives charitably to Dissenters and Church people alike. He never takes sides. He is scrupulously via media. Lady Elizabeth takes the view that whether her husband has the strength to be a bishop does not matter, she has.

To the Somerset rectory door, comes an acquaintance of Lord Edward’s of some 40 years. He is one Rigsby, a Ceylon tea planter, returning with an amassed fortune. But also, much to the delight of the archdeacon with a daughter, Dulcina. The heir to the penniless estate, the Marquis of Saltcombe is unattached. Dulcina is just what Court Royal needs. She can bring her dowry, marry the heir of Kingsbridge and provide a son. The archdeacon, the unofficial overseer of his family’s debts, makes haste to Court Royal to arrange a courtship that will keep the ducal estates in Eveleigh hands.

But mid-way through the Marquess’ indifferent courtship of Dulcina, his long-lost and fondly-remembered lover, Rachel appears from nowhere.

She has abandoned the safe distance between Devon and Sicily, has turned actress and is due to perform at Plymouth Theatre Royal. Following a tragic fire Rachel dies. But Dulcina, discovering the Marquess’ indifference towards her, calls off the engagement.

No marriage, no financial rescue. Archdeacon Lord Edward is summoned from Sleepy Hollow to a Court Royal council with all the family members and advisers. To her great regret, Lady Elizabeth is left behind in Somerset to arrange the services and preachers for Lent. The Duke reveals the depth of the family debts. There is universal agreement that something drastic is to be done. But the archdeacon, who objects to all extremes, doctrinal or practical, advises moderation. At first, he settles himself into Court Royal for the long haul and refuses requests from Lady Elizabeth to return to Sleepy Hollow. But, even the resourceful archdeacon finally runs out of advice and quits Court Royal for his rectory.

Once returned, the exhausted archdeacon has a seizure. The general and the Marquess hurry into Somerset. The General still believes that his priestly brother Edward is the one man on whom the family may safely lean. ‘My God! If we lose him, what shall we do?’ The travellers reach the rectory at dawn. The cool and calm Lady Elizabeth tells them that Lord Edward is no more. ‘He was a very good man, and so dear to me!’

Lord Ronald and the Marquess remain until after the funeral. All the principal clergy and gentry of the neighbourhood are in attendance. There is much weeping from the parishioners. Will the next rector let them have mutton at sixpence a pound?

The significant amounts the archdeacon has left in his will to his wife, to his niece and to an impressive cluster of charities are instantly evaporated once it is revealed what the archdeacon has sunk absolutely everything into the never-ending debts of the Kingsbridge estate. The archdeacon dies in debt to the bank, the butcher, the grocer, to his wine-merchant, to his shoemaker and to his clerical tailor.

Lord Ronald, the General, returns to Court Royal still believing that the wisdom of his clerical brother has been the estate’s best hope. Head in the sand conversations with the Duke centre around the continuing soundness of the estate. Our last image of the three Eveleigh brothers is of the Duke assuring the General that from his own pocket his Grace can settle all the archdeacon’s debts.

Red Spider 1887 In Red Spider we are all sitting comfortably in the Ring of Bells, at Bratton Clovelly. Those gathered for the feast of Coryndon’s Charity are discussing the brothers-in-

35 law’s quarrel between Taverner Langford and Hillary Nanspian. The Rector arrives. Baring-Gould is merciless as he brings the local cleric into the story.

‘He was a bland man, with a face like a suet pudding; he shook hands cordially with every one. ‘We've been talking, parson, about the two who have got across. 'Tis a pity now, is it not?’ Parson Robbins looked from one to another, to gather the prevailing opinion, before he committed himself. Then, seeing one shake his head, and hearing another say, ‘It's a bad job,’ he ventured to say, 'Well, it may be so considered.’ The Rector was too cautious a man to say, 'I consider it so’. He could always edge out of an ‘It may be so considered.’

Parson Robbins was the most inoffensive of men. He never, in the pulpit, insisted on a duty lest he should offend a churchman, nor on a doctrine lest he should shock a Dissenter. It was his highest ambition to stand well with all men, and he endeavoured to gain his point by disagreeing with nobody and insisting on nothing’.

The parson would regale all and sundry with rural advice.

‘Now, what you want with turnips is a good shower after the seed has been sown, and warmth to precipitate the growth at the critical period. At least, so I have been informed.’ ’In wet weather the fly does not appear, or the plant grows with sufficient rapidity to outstrip the ravages of the fly’. This fact of the turnip-fly was one of the few scraps of agricultural information Parson Robbins had picked up, and he retailed it at tithe, club, and feoffee dinners.

As the parson’s role in settling the celebrated quarrel proceeded, he warned listeners that, for the first time in their hearing, he was going to expression an opinion.

‘Ahem!’ said the Rector. ‘I have been in your midst, I may say these forty years, as your spiritual-pastor, and, I thank Heaven, never has there been a single discord between me and my parishioners. If l have not always been able to agree with them, I have taken care never to disagree with them’. I mean they have had their opinions. I have not always seen my way to accepting them, because I have studiously avoided having any opinions at all. After forty opinion-less years I long to see this difference of opinion between nearest neighbours ended.

Bladys of the Stewponey, 1897 In Bladys of the Stewponey we encounter the deliberately named The Reverend Timothy Toogood - the Vicar of Kinver - the most pitiable of all Baring-Gould’s clerics. For a vicar the red-faced, rheumy-eyed was miserably poor. Dressed in the shabbiest clerical garb, his ministry was overshadowed by the other Anglican priest appointed to the parish - the Evening Lecturer. The holder of this ancient office received double the income of the incumbent of the parish. As lecturer his sole duty 36 was to preach one sermon per Sunday. Vicar and lecturer lived in perpetual feud - the vicar laying himself open to reproach by his indiscretions und irregularities.

The vicarage was a mean cottage. The parishioners might have made their parson's position tolerable had they given the lectureship and its stipend to the vicar. But they asserted their independence by appointing their own nominee to the lectureship.

The main politics of the parish consisted in controversy over the merits or the demerits of the two ecclesiastics, and in setting one against the other.

Parson Toogood was kind-hearted and unselfish. In comfortable circumstances he would have been respectable and have deserved respect. But his distresses deprived him of self-esteem, and blunted his moral perception.

His only escape into a position of ease was by becoming the dutiful servant of the squire. The parson would not oppose the squire lest he should lose his favour and with it the chance of promotion to a fat living in the squire’s gift.

Some scruple did enter the mind of the vicar when it was announced that he was expected to consecrate a marital union determined by the outcome of a game bowls. Assured that the couple would go off to be married elsewhere the vicar’s scruples yielded to a fee of five guineas. Any further attack of scruples from Parson Toogood ran the risk of the squire calling in the dreaded Evening Lecturer to perform the marriage.

The Queen of Love, 1894 In The Queen of Love the Cheshire vicarage is occupied by another deliberately named cleric, the Reverend Edward Meek –

‘. . . a gentle, timid man, fond of collecting moths, an authority on Lepidoptera, unable to cope with the difficulties of his position, and without the moral energy to attempt to do so. A good, kind man; but rather scientific than spiritual. He hunted beetles and moths, rather than souls. He was content, in face of the dominant nonconformity, to be left unmolested to minister to a couple of farmers, a sporting squire, and his own family. No man was of less account in Saltwich than the Vicar of Scatterley; and even had those whom [the chapel community] had banned appealed to him for encouragement, he would not, have dared to uphold them. Lest, by so doing, he should offend the nonconformists, and the Serious-Minded of all denominations should conspire against him. And wrest from the Vicar one of the two farmers to whom he still ministered on sufferance’.

Over against the Reverend Edward Meek stood one of the elders of the local dissenting chapel, Jabez Grice, the most commanding power in Saltwich.

‘He was not a man of means or of position. He was foreman at Brundrith’s Salt Works on a salary of forty shillings a week. But he was a man of an intense and aggressive personality. Giants are not necessarily great men, nor are mighty men always big in size.

A man is not to be measured by the number of stones he weighs, and the number of feet and inches he stands. ‘Hammer’ Grice was of moderate size, solid in structure, and with a firm head planted on a short neck and broad shoulders. He was not contained within the clothes that enveloped him.

He filled every room he entered, he filled his own house, he filled [his street]. It may almost be said that he filled all Saltwich. Certainly, no man in that brine- pumping and steaming town had anything approaching his power. In the factory ‘Hammer’ Grice was greater than Brundrith. In political influence he was a greater man than the Member of Parliament; in chapel, pastor and elders were his humble servants.

No committee could be formed without Grice in it, and, when in it, the fellow- members did little else than register the opinions and resolutions of ‘Hammer’”. At an election he swept, votes together with an irresistible force. On a platform he could sway his hearers and make them think and feel with himself. He was not an educated, nor a logical reasoner. He carried his audience with him, not so much by argument as by assertion. No antagonist answered him with impunity. He crushed him under facts, or, at least, statements, or withered him with scorn. Upon his own confession to his son, Andrew, in all matters of doctrinal and moral ruling ‘Hammer’ Grice was ‘the Church’.

Mrs Curgenven of Curgenven (1893) – The Reverend James Pamphlet Featured in Mrs Curgenven of Curgenven is yet another aptly named cleric, The Reverend James Pamphlet, father of Jane, the second wife of Captain Lambert Curgenven.

Again, Baring-Gould shows little mercy.

‘The rector was a tall, elderly man with white whiskers very full and standing out as if each hair were electrified. He wore the most starched of collars and the most glossy of coats. On his face sat a perpetual smile. He would turn his head from side to side and nod urbanely to every pupil teacher and parishioner whose eye he encountered. He continued nodding after each greeting as though his head were hung on a wire. A head so nicely balanced, that it did not recover its equipoise at once.

Such was the Reverend Mr Pamphlet’s scrupulosity that in order not to expose he flock to false doctrine he took precautions not to teach them anything at all. He professed, ‘If I am not via media, then I am nothing’. Somewhere within himself, the rector held to the hopeless dream of preferment and the elegance of a bishop’s apron and gaiters. Jane Curgenven regarded her father as feeble.

The rector on hearing that his son-in-law had just blown out his brains responded, ‘Good heavens! What will people say?’

On hearing that his son-in-law had a previous wife living and was bigamously married to his daughter he further exclaimed, ‘Merciful powers! What will people say?’

‘Can nothing be done to hush up the affair?’ ‘How much might it cost to buy off the first Mrs. Curgenven?’

‘You see’ lamented the Rector, ‘I am in almost daily expectation of advancement - a canonry. If this dreadful affair were to be got wind of – the bishop might pass me over for a very inferior man - one who cannot put in such claims as myself. Men for such posts of importance must be safe in every way – safe in no definitive convictions – safe in nothing awkward in their past – safe not to go off like rockets in the future, select and with no marked individuality’.

‘O that it has come to this! O that my daughter had ever been born! Her survival will cost me a great deal of money and probably an archdeaconry! I have tee- totalled under the bishop – denied myself mu glass of port! And all for nothing!

Learning from her own lips, that Theresa, the first Mrs Lambert Curgenven requires only the property due to her and not a penny of anyone’s money, the Rector smothers Theresa with unsuppressed gratitude, ‘Oh, what a Christian! What a true Christian!’

In the closing scenes of Mrs Curgenven the Rector testifies to the inoffensiveness of his faith and practice.

‘On no matter of import have I made a definite statement. I develop all I say in a cloud of generalities. In my long ministerial career I have given to none anything they could lay hold of. And – but here come the letters’.

The Reverend Mr Pamphlet opened the first. ‘My dear, here is my reward. An archdeaconry and canonry. I really do think I have deserved them, and that I shall be the round man in the round hole.’

The author only thinly disguises his views of the Church hierarchy as he bids farewell to James Pamphlet.

‘The Venerable the Archdeacon strutted about in gaiters and corded hat, bowing, smiling, saying agreeable things to everyone. He had hopes that if he remained absolutely colourless, his teaching absolutely insipid, the way was open to him becoming a bishop’.

Royal Georgie, 1901 As the plot of Royal Georgie unfolds other clerics have walk-on parts but, a key character in the first half of the novel is the heartless and ambitious, The Reverend Josiah Thirkleby. The story opens in the fire-lit and postprandial comfort of Wellcombe Manor where we are introduced to three tipsy guests and their clerical host. The Reverend Josiah Thirkleby, unwilling to live in the humdrum vicarage, has built himself a tasteless Regency mansion to which he has brought, his ward, Georgina.

The sycophantic Mr. Thirkleby, of lofty white and polished brow, of ponderous jaw and steely eyes, has been compelled to surrender the chaplaincy he had to the Prince of Wales. When his master became Prince Regent, The Reverend Mr. Thirkleby was compelled to relinquish his sumptuous position at court. To make matters worse, the fat crown living upon which the former royal chaplain had cast his longing eye had gone to the son of the Dean of Exeter. So for a dozen or more years, as the Vicar of Wellcombe, The Reverend Mr. Thirkleby has had to settle himself in rural obscurity . Here he has undertaken to hide a great indiscretion of the royal court by passing off his ward as his niece. Only a handful of the more suspicious and discerning locals have noticed the resemblance of Georgie to the royal personage on the newly minted coins.

The Reverend Mr Thirkleby has entertained little duty towards the souls of his parishioners and has contented himself with racing through the statutory prayers at a speed none could follow and preaching but once a week. He has interfered as little with the morals of his parishioners as he had with those of his royal master. The villagers have resented their inability to laud it over their new incumbent and are permanently irritated by the un-crossable social void between parson and flock.

The eyes of the Reverend Mr Thirkleby’s are ever fixed on the hope of preferment, the attendant comforts of a canon’s stall and the social life of a cathedral close. The fulfilling of his duties towards Georgie is poor. He shows his ward little affection and allows her to be largely unchecked, undirected, unencouraged, imperfectly educated. He is indifferent to her attractive appearance, to her caprice, her passion and her future. Though Georgie does not love her uncle she never wishes him ill.

Dying of overindulgence and an ensuing stroke The Reverend Mr Thirkleby devotes what proved to be his final moments to offering the only documentation about Georgie’s origins to the highest bidder among the three men at his bedside.

At the wake the churchwarden declares the newly expired vicar to be a right proper parson and no highflier – one ‘who never meddled with nobody’.

Georgie wishes she had found it in her heart to love the man who had never inspired her with a generous emotion or afforded her a noble thought. The tears on her cheeks at the funeral service are not due to grief but to the fact that she had been reared to be heartless.

When Georgie presides over the search in her uncle’s den every drawer and shelf reveals either largely long-standing and unpaid bills or dingy sermons that have been used and re-used during many years and none of which sermons were in the hand- writing of the deceased.

In subsequent conversation, at the inn, the churchwarden seeks general agreement that the parish wants no zealot who would attract the attention of the bishop. The proper place for zeal is in the chapel, not the church. The vocation of the established church is to leave folks alone. The Dissenting farmers certainly do want a good preacher at the parish church who would draw folk away from the chapel. In penning their preferences to the Dean and Chapter, the parishioners desire a parson, who like Thirkleby would not preach doctrine nor have any strong opinions.

The next incumbent duly arrives in the shape of the Reverend Henry Weldon. Georgina is instantly drawn to him. As a non-Devonian the parishioners immediately look upon him as an enemy. The vicarage having been let out under the previous incumbency Mr. Weldon throws himself upon the temporary hospitality of Georgina at the Manor House. The new incumbent is assured by Georgina that his ministry will be an easy one as her uncle rarely visited his flock, avoided them if they were sick, gave no offence from the pulpit and never attracted the attention of the bishop.

In addition to being a new broom the fresh incumbent brings into the picture his brother-in-law, Sir John Chevalier, whose eventual proposal of marriage to Georgina is the climax of the novel.

Now rescued from the vicissitudes of Wellcombe Manor, Georgina settles with Sir John’s sister in Northernhay, Exeter. Almost the last scene is in the drawing room where a Jewish convert to Anglicanism, the Reverend Emmanuel Hirsch, is holding forth on the imminent and joyful return of the Hebrew people to Jerusalem – for which enterprise he is now speaking and hoping to raise funds. Among the assembled company we meet the Dean of Exeter. He is an amiable gentleman with a pasty face 41 encircled by whiskers of white hair like the moon on a foggy night. Tired of the long introductions the dean addresses the Reverend Mr. Hirsch

‘Sir, to some of us, at least, time is precious. We have come to this house at some inconvenience, at an early hour. May we ask you at once to open your subject . . . [and] that you would consider the value of our time’.

In the Roar of the Sea: A Tale of the Cornish Coast, 1892 Reading the celebrated ‘Tale of the Cornish Coast’ In the Roar of the Sea we meet two incumbents of St Enodoc’s. We find the first of the rectors, the Reverend Peter Trevisa, endlessly and unprofitably digging his church out of the sand-heaps that habitually swallow it. Pitifully the rector reflects how similarly fruitless have been his attempts to dig his flock out of the moral and spiritual sands that have also engulfed them.

As he senses the end of his life, the elderly rector shares with his daughter Judith, the heroine of the novel, his anxiety about the future care of his mentally handicapped son, Judith’s twin, Jamie. The rector’s ministry in the parish has yielded little surplus income and he does not relish the thought of his children sharing their future with his only sister – particularly as she has gone as housekeeper to Cruel Coppinger.

It has been a constant tribulation to the rector that though he became reconciled to his flock harvesting the contents of wrecks unavoidably cast aground; he has never spoken out against the deliberate wrecking. The rector’s pastoral sowing he believes to have been of no avail. He laments that he has brought light, strength or help to none. Every vine he has tended was cankered and fruitless. Judith assures her father that she owes her strength of character entirely to him. Parson Trevisa receives her encouragement with peace and a smile. In the next instant he is dead.

The new rector comes to twin parishes. With a name to conjure with, the Reverend Desiderius Mules, learning that he is to preside at the marriage of Judith and Captain Coppinger in St Enodoc’s resolves to double his fee. When the ceremony begins Parson Mules resents standing in the sanctuary with the depth of the sand coming over his boots. The wedding party is late. The new rector fears he will catch cold from the wind and the fog drifting in through the church door. He thinks to charge sixpence per minute for lateness. The bell-ringers heave the bell ropes out of the sand. Priest and bridal party wade through the sand to the altar.

At the prospect of uttering the words of her vow Judith faints. Coppinger threatens the rector that if he does not continue – despite the illegality of proceeding – everyone must return on the morrow. Having no wish to return on the morrow, or to

42 be kept waiting yet again the Reverend Mr Mules rushes at the remainder of the wedding office and concludes it at a hand gallop.

Recovering, Judith makes her way to the rectory where the Reverend Mr Miles presumes she has come to consent to the words in the Prayer Book and sign the register.

‘I will not take Coppinger as my wedded husband and thereto I will never give my troth - so help me God. You shall have your fee. I refuse to sign the register. Mr. Mules feared for the trouble he was now in.

Later, when Judith has attempted to poison Coppinger she comes to the rectory for advice and guidance. The rector is all for spreading the word that the fainting episode was an illusion – providing Judith signs the marriage register. She refuses.

After Coppinger perishes in the fire Judith returns to the rectory. To Mr. Miles delight she signs the register willingly and without constraint. Delighted, at last, but ignorant of the events of the night the rector has no idea that Captain Coppinger is dead!

John Herring : A West of England Romance, 1883

The west of England romance John Herring introduces us to the witless and worldly dissenting minister, The Reverend Israel Flamank and to the Baring-Gould’s Vicar of Tawton, the heartlessly named The Reverend Mr Harmless-Simpleton.

From the age of fourteen Mirelle, the Spanish counter-heroine has been educated in Paris, by the English convent sisters of Sacré-Cœur. We note, in passing, that their venerable chaplain, exposed to a life-time of confessions from the nuns and their young ladies, made a good end in a lunatic asylum.

When Tramplara, the gushing and scheming Launceston lawyer first meets Squire Battishill at West Wyke House he brings with him, his friend and shepherd, Israel Flamank, one whose looks betrayed what he was – a dissenting minister. Tramplara claimed that Flamank had enabled him to realise ‘the value of eternity and the infinite nothingness of today’.

Baring-Gould now introduces an episode of history based on the South Zeal mine fraud. In an unholy alliance The Reverend Mr Flamank and Tramplara strive to convince Squire Battishill that Marazion, Jacobstow, Davidstow, Herodsfoot and Redruth are all derived from Biblical names. This being a clear indication that Jews 43 came to Devon and Cornwall with the Phoenicians to mine gold. Upaver on Battishill land is really the gold bearing Ophir of scripture.

Captain Trecarrel regards The Reverend Mr Flamank as a crack-brained preacher and good for nothing. John Herring sees Flamank as an excitable little man but thinks him to be sincere and honest, though he has eventually to inform the minister of the gospel and director of the mine of the total and irretrievable collapse of the Ophir enterprise.

The Reverend Mr Flamank is not so much devastated by the loss of his investment as to his loss of character, the ruin of his influence and the destruction of his position. Believing widows and Christian old maids have ventured their all on his recommendation. Subsequently The Reverend Mr Flamank discovers in the Book of Revelation that the collapse of the Ophir enterprise has been foretold! Nevertheless, the author employs a delicious phrase ‘[the minister’s] credit was suffering eclipse’. In the wake of Mrs Flamank’s tantrum her husband buries his misery in pastoral visitation.

In an aside, with some wickedness of accuracy, Baring-Gould notes that high church clergy tend to get into difficulties over money and low church ones [and dissenting ministers] tend to be over-amorous with their female flock. Mr Flamank, though his heart was full of kindness and he was devoid of guile, he was in the habit of taking ladies’ hands and reading to them from the Song of Solomon. In the wake of the collapse of the Ophir enterprise The Reverend Mr Flamank sets off on a tour of missionary meetings on behalf of the Particular Christians of Cornwall and to collect money for the Pure and Reformed Christian missionary society.

The heart-broken John Herring finds refuge with the Squire Battishill at West Wyke House. The new Vicar of Tawton is the amiable and well-intentioned The Reverend Mr Harmless-Simpleton who became frequent in his calls at West Wyke.

Baring-Gould enjoys telling us that whereas the Simpletons were a large family, that have never thriven at the bar, in medicine, in the army and the navy, the double- barrelled and hyphenated Harmless-Simpletons had for several generations made the Church their happy hunting ground. They had gone up in the Church like corks in water. The fattest livings, prebendal stalls, and even bishoprics had been showered upon them. As Napoleon won all his battles by one rule, so the Harmless-Simpletons had acquired promotion by one single principle.

‘In the field of doctrine they had never taught a truth without first treating it as a taxidermist treats a frog, killing, disembowelling and then blowing out the fleshless, boneless skin with wind, and varnishing the empty nothing. In the field 44

of morals they had never attacked a real enemy, but discharged their parks of ordnance, brought down charges of heavy dragoons, and displayed the most skilful strategy against imaginary foes’.

When the new Vicar of Tawton, Reverend Mr. Harmless-Simpleton calls at West Wyke, he divides his visit into two parts, one of which he devotes to Mr Battishill and the other to Miss Cicely, in the ratio of three to seven. Mr Battishill is pleased to see and hear the vicar, and Miss Cicely becomes deeply impressed with the reverend gentleman's amiability and good intentions.

In their last conversation in the novel Cicely confesses to John Herring that the Reverend Mr. Harmless-Simpleton has asked her to be his wife. With such a well- intentioned and amiable man, John was sure Cicely would be happy.

Kitty Alone, 1894 In Kitty Alone we are introduced to the elderly rector of Coombe-in-Teignhead, the sort of country parson that Baring-Gould could both despise and admire in the same breath – a priest of a mild and kindly disposition, but a stickler for detail.

We are told that The Reverend Mr. Fielding represented a type of clergyman that had completely disappeared.

‘He belonged to the school of Churchmen founded by Newman and Keble. Such priests were cultured, scholarly, refined in thought, steeped in idealism, unconsciously affected. They aimed at what was impossible. They lacked practicable methods. They readily contended to death equally for trifles as for principles.

Mr. Fielding wore tall white collars and a white tie, a black dress coat and open black waistcoat. His hat was usually at the back of his head, and he walked with his head bent forwards and his shoulder against the wall. This was a trick caught and copied from Newman, caught when first Mr. Fielding was under Newman’s influence, and which he now unconsciously followed’.

The Reverend Mr. Fielding was unmarried, a quiet, studious man. Courteous to all, understood by none. He would see that the poor had bread from his rectory kitchen but incessantly offered pious and fruitless comfort at the bedside of dying children.

Advising the new schoolmaster, Walter Bramber, the rector pondered:

‘You are a young man and a young man is sanguine.’

‘I was sanguine once”, said the rector, “That arises from confidence in one's self, and confidence in one's cause, and confidence in mankind. You have a 45

noble cause - the priest and the schoolmaster have the greatest of missions: to educate what is highest in man, spirit and intellect. You have no reason to be shaken by any doubt, to feel any hesitation in adhesion to the cause of education. 'Let there be light!'

The unscrupulous Pasco Pepperill knows how to take advantage of the rector’s naivety and is instantly able to extract a loan of five pounds.

Kitty’s testimony was that she loved the dear old parson. Both she and schoolmaster Bramber find the rector to be their best confidant. The rectory becomes Kitty’s safest refuge. When Kitty stands in the dock the supporting presence of her friend the vicar is her great encouragement. When Kitty and Walter Bramber are wed Parson Fielding is radiant with happiness believing that parson and schoolmaster together offer the best of all prospects for the raising of better generation in Coombe-in- Teignhead.

Miss Quillet 1902 Miss Quillet I have left to the last. In the second half of the plot we meet the unnamed slum priest of St Giles probably based on clergy the youthful author had known when he served as a lay worker in Pimlico. The other cleric is a diocesan bishop of the most despicable kind – one we suspect represents some of the prelates Baring Gould had come to despise.

In her flight from the tragedy of the first part of her story and in her journey of atonement, the Hon. Anne Quillet visits a slum parish soup-kitchen. Here she sets eyes on the vicar of St Giles as he makes his nightly call on the hungry poor of his neighbourhood. Later, when Anne sits down at the vicarage to a supper of boiled mutton, pickles, potatoes and ale, the incumbent is still in his cassock and a grubby clerical collar.

After supper, having secured a private interview the vicar Anne hopes he will understand her flight from two painful prospects and perhaps take her on as a parish worker. What she finds is a priest searching her soul’s depths. The parish is a dirty place and without the motivation her own inward fire the priest knows Anne cannot share authentically in a parish ministry dominated by soiled hands.

Meanwhile, Anne’s younger sister is staying with the daughter of the local bishop. Anne is invited to the palace to lunch. She takes a cab to the residence of the bishop she knows to have a downer on the work at St. Giles - the man who has withdrawn the funding that could have provided a much-needed curate. During lunch Anne looked at the portraits on the walls.

‘Those of the Caroline bishops had their special stamp. The prelates were moustached, and looked like men who might have worn harness like cavaliers as appropriately as rochet and lawn. Those of the Georgian period were courtiers every inch, somewhat full of blood. It was striking how every epoch produced its special type of face. Then came the occupants of the see in the nineteenth century, amiable, smug prelates, men who could not be blown about by any wind of false doctrine, but who would be swayed by every breath of popular opinion. Good, well-intentioned men, without force of character, and dominating wills. Anne wondered whether anyone of them had ever been in a slum’. Miss Quillet, 1902: 208

After lunch, Anne secures a private interview with the bishop. Knowing that she may be looking for church work the bishop suggests a secretary-ship with a missionary agency or work with the Girls’ Friendly Society. She could become a fund-raiser, a Sunday school teacher or an embroiderer. Anne soon discloses her involvement at St Giles and challenges the bishop’s refusal to provide a curate. The bishop exposes his gift for expediency and defends his policy of not embracing any extremes. The shafts of challenge from Anne’s lips displease the bishop. His face becomes cold and hard. He looks at his watch. He announces that he must go for his constitutional. He bows swiftly and turns on his heel.

Anne makes a last visit to St Giles, informs the vicar what he has known all along, that Anne’s vocation lies elsewhere. Out of her generous family allowance Anne provides her slum priest with the money for a parish curate - in place of the grant withheld by the bishop.

On the final pages of The Catholic Revival Baring-Gould describes the archetypical bishop and incumbent of the nineteenth century. This is the cleric he has portrayed has in more than a dozen of his novels.

He writes:

‘In the service of the State it is the mediocrities who are given places of importance, because they are safe men. And it is doubly so in the Church. The really able man is set aside, because he is able, and has ideas of his own; and what is needed is the man who will trudge along the beaten path and never lift his head to look over the wall, or raise his muzzle to snuff the air. Whether it be a premier on the look-out for one to fill an Episcopal throne, or a bishop seeking a man to put into a living of importance, he looks out for a mediocrity. He knows that he can trust him, a man who will cause no trouble, one whose paramount conviction is to retain things as they are. But such men as these the British working man despises.

A dealer brought a horse to a would-be purchaser. “You will guarantee that he does not run away?’ ‘Sir, he will stand stock-still in the shafts. You must push him to make him go.’

‘And he does not kick?’ ‘Kick, sir! He is so stiff in the back he cannot raise his hindquarters.’

‘And he does not shy?’ ‘He is stone-blind’

‘And he is safe?’ ‘Safe! Absolutely. Why, he's a wooden horse.’ ‘That is the beast for me and my silver-mounted harness. Take him round to the stables and give him the best stall.’

‘Old Country Parson in Cassock’ by W. Parkinson, from Old Country Life

Winefred – A Story of the Chalk Cliffs Roger Bristow

Characters (principal ones in bold)

Ball, Mrs, greengrocer (of Bath), p. 179 Bunce, Mrs, p. 135 Dench, Olver, ferryman and ne'er do well, p. 9 Finch, Susie, young village girl, p. 159 Ford, James (Captain), Mrs Jose's brother, and owner of Beer Quarries Frank, Mr, tradesman, p. 138 Gassett, Sarah, wife of Thomas, p. 5 Gassett, Thomas, shopowner, jeweller (sells polished stones), p. 5 Hawkes & Squire, auctioneers, p. 134 Herne, Louie, former servant at the Nethersole's farm, p.2 Holwood, Joseph, Winefred's father, p. 39 Holwoods of Lambton, p. 186 Holwood, Mrs, daughter of Viscount Finnborough, p. 186 Hopkins, shoemaker, p. 155 Jose (née Ford), Eliza, Mrs, owner of Bindon Jose, Samuel, son of Eliza, p. 96 Jose, Thomasin, daughter of Eliza, p. 96 Man, Tom, late ostler at the Red Lion, p.5 Marley, Jane, mother of Winefred Marley, Philip, brother of Jane Marley, Topsham, father of Jane Marley Nethersole, Mary, wife of Moses, p.2 Nethersole, Moses, farmer, p. 2 Nuttall, David, smuggler, p.21 Prance, Miss, milliner (of Bath), p. 192 Rattenbury, Captain. Job, smuggler, p.14 Rattenbury, Jack, hero, and son of the Captain, p.14 Spratt, Jack, postboy at the Castle Inn, Cullompton, p. 151 Spry, Dickon, the late, hedger, p. 151 Temple, Mr, p. 136 Tomkin-Jones (née Stripe), Mrs, cousin of Mrs Jose, p. 178 Tomkin-Jones, Dr., late husband of Mrs Tomkin-Jones (p. 187) and son of Captain. Shadrach Jones (p. 192) Tomkin-Jones, Jesse, daughter of Dr & Mrs Tomkin-Jones, p.187 Tomkin-Jones, Sylvana, daughter of Dr & Mrs Tomkin-Jones, p.187 Trant, Mrs, draper (of Bath), p. 192 49

Wardroper, Frank, son of Sir Barnaby Wardroper, p. 195 Warne, Mrs, Innkeeper, p. 4 Wetherell, Tate, hedger, p. 151 Winefred, Marley/Holwood, heroine

Winefred Winefred was first published in serialised form in The Graphic in 1899, Vol. 60 (July- Dec.) with illustrations by Edgar Bundy. It was reissued in book form by Methuen & Co, in 1900, with 8 bl. & w. pls. by Edgar Bundy (some, at least, are not the same as those illustrations in The Graphic). Earlier (Jan 14th 1899), SBG had written an article entitled The Landslip which was published in The Queen, Vol. 105, p.52. I have not seen this article, but presume that it describes the same Bindon landslip that features in the novel.

Notes on the text: Page numbers relate to the 1st Edition. Text bold italics are places to be visited or seen during the weekend. Text in bold are localities shown in Figures 2.1 – 2.3, but not to be visited. Text in italics are direct quotations from the novel that are particularly relevant to what we will be seeing and doing during the weekend. Text [in square brackets] notes or amplification added by myself.

The story The novel is principally set in east Devon between Beer and Lyme Regis, but with part of the story set in Bath. The opening date of the story can be fixed quite accurately as late 1839, the year in which the famous Bindon Landslip took place.

As usual with Sabine's novels, the detail of the topography can generally be fairly easily followed (there are exceptions) and we will visit some of these localities on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning [Figure 2.2].

The story opens in November 1839 with Winefred and her mother, Jane Marley, trudging in the rain along the beach at Seaton - described as a disregarded hamlet by the mouth of the Axe, picking up a precarious existence by being visited in the summer by bathers'. Winefred is 18 years old, tall and with rich dark hair and eyes. They first visit Moses Nethersole's farm pleading for work and accommodation as their own house has almost been destroyed by cliff falls, then they go to Mrs Warne at the Red Lion, and then Thomas Gasset, a dealer in polished stones (green and yellow chalcedonies, red jasper and moss agate, and brown petrified wood from the Upper Greensand) - but all to no avail. They continue their walk to the mouth of the River Axe (p.8). This is described as

'flowing into the sea through a trough washed out of the blood-red sandstone that comes to the surface between the hills of chalk; but the fresh water does not mingle with the brine unopposed. A pebble ridge has been thrown up by the sea at the mouth, that the waves labour incessantly to complete, so as to debar the Axe from discharging its waters into it. Sometimes high tide and storm combine 51

to all but accomplish the task, and the river is strangled within a narrow throat; but this is for a time only. Once more the effluent tide assists the river to force an opening which the inflowing tide had threatened to seal.’ (Figure 2).

On the farther side, that to the rising sun, the chalk with dusky sandstone beneath rears itself into a bold headland, Haven Ball [in reality Haven Cliff], that stands precipitously against the sea, as a white cold shoulder exposed to it. Up a hollow of this hill, a combe as it is called, a mean track ascends to the downs which overhang the sea, and extend, partly in open tracts, in part enclosed, as far as Lyme Regis (Figure 1).

There is no highway,…….but there is a track, now open, now between blasted hedges, always bad, and exposed to the gale from the sea and drift of the rain.

But to reach this, the Axe estuary must be crossed. This is nowadays [c. 1900] a matter of one penny, as there is a toll bridge thrown from one bank to the other. But at the time of my story transit was by a ferry-boat (Figure 2, locality 1), and the boat could ply only when there was a sufficiency of water.

[The bridge was built in 1877 – the first concrete bridge in England – and was freed from tolls in 1907. The ferry house was supposedly on the Seaton side of the Axe (p.38)]. p.10. Winefred and her mother cross the Axe in Olver Dench’s ferryboat and climb 400ft to the top of Haven ‘Ball’ [= Cliff]. There, Mrs Marley tells Winefred that her father deserted her 19 years ago and has not communicated or sent any money since. Depressed, cold and wet, Mrs Marley tries to throw herself and Winefred over the cliff edge, but Winefred struggles and prevents this, then faints (p.13). p.14. Winefred recovers in the house of Captain Job Rattenbury [a real-life smuggler – see Devonshire Characters and Strange Events, 1908 – smuggling forms a vital part of the story – we will be hearing more about smuggling when we visit Beer Caves on Sunday (Figure 1)]. p.20, Rattenbury offers Jane Marley a job as housekeeper, but on the condition that she does not try and take his late wife’s place. p.22. Rattenbury’s cottage stood on the Undercliff at a lower level than the Down [i.e. on the surface of a much earlier slip]. There had been no recent sinkages of any importance along this coast. The entire undercliff, raised three hundred feet above the sea, had a ruffled and chopped surface, was broken into ridges and depressed into basins, and was densely overgrown with thorns, brambles of gigantic growth, ivy and thickets of elder.

52 p.23. Winefred asked by Job to deliver a secret message to David Nuttall in Beer – the message – At eleven o’clock on Thursday night, Heathfield Cross (Figure 2, locality 6). p.26. After delivering the message, Winefred went in search of Jack Rattenbury who had gone birdwatching on White Cliff (Figure 2, locality 9) and delivered the same message, but urged Jack not to be involved [in smuggling]. p.38. Winefred’s father, Mr Holwood, turns up at Olver Dench’s cottage. He is a well connected gentleman and regrets his earlier indiscretion and marriage to Winefred’s mother who was beneath him in station. However, it transpires that he has sent a regular quarterly payment to her via Olver Dench, but (p.51) after the first payment, Jane refuses to take the money and Dench pockets it for his own use. Dench had earlier maliciously and erroneously made out to Jane Marley that it was not a proper marriage that took place in the ruined Rousdon [St Pancras] Church (Figure 2, locality 5), he also tries to convince Mr Holwood that it was not a valid marriage, but to no avail (p.42). Because of this marriage, Mr Holwood has not been able to marry someone of a better station in life (p.43). p.47. Mr Holwood determines to see Jane Marley and Winefred. To avoid Dench, he hires a boat to take him to Lyme Regis and intends to walk back along the beach – in the end, he gets out on the beach below Rousdon and sees Winefred on the beach as she is collecting semi-precious stones (pp.52-3); she explains what she does with the stones (pp.55-6). pp.57-8. Winefred explains that her father, who is in Tierra del Fuego, is a bad man who has abandoned them and never communicates with them. Mr Holwood gives Winefred a gold watch and chain and begs her to include the name of her father in her prayers (pp.59-60). pp.61-2. Winefred, whilst on the beach, overhears plans by the Preventive Officers to catch the smugglers in action as they take he smuggled goods from Beer Caves to Heathfield Cross for onward shipment to Honiton, Lyme Regis and Dorchester. pp.64-6. In trying to get home and avoid the Preventive men, Winefred makes her way along the beach until she is below where the ruins of her old cottage stand. There, in the cliff, she sees a rift that extends from top to bottom of the cliff. She enters the rift and starts to climb upwards noting how the flints had been split and displaced by about 15ft on either side. When she emerges at the top, she notes that the ‘… turf was torn, as cloth might be ripped by a sharp tug’. pp.67-71. Jane Marley is visited by Dench who blames Job Rattenbury for the death of Jane’s brother and for the penniless state of her family and also for his own lack 53 of money. He claims that Rattenbury is a rich man and that his money should be divided 4 ways (one for Rattenbury, 1 for Dench, 1 for Jane’s father and 1 for Jane’s brother – the last 2 to come to Jane). Dench wants Jane to find where the money is hidden, and then proposes to her, only to be soundly rejected. pp.75-77. Winefred leaves the cottage to warn the smugglers that they are betrayed. Met them on the ‘Fosse Way’ coming from Beer Quarries (Figure 2, locality 10). pp.78-84. Warns them that the Preventive men are at Heathfield Cross and that soldiers are coming from Musbury. Job Rattenbury states that they must go along the lanes to Hay and Buckland (Figure 2) and stow the contraband there. Winefred advises them to take their goods to the cliffs, lower them down and stow them in the base of the rift that she climbed up – this they do, with Winefred leading the way. Jack leaves Winefred to finish stacking the barrels in the cave at the base of the cliff. There is a rock fall, and Winefred is trapped (pp.85-88). pp.89- 94. The Preventive men come to Rattenbury’s cottage to search for contraband – they find nothing. Jane Marley discovers that Winefred is missing. Rattenbury thinks it is because she has betrayed them and throws Jane out of the cottage. pp.95-101. Jane goes wandering around looking for Winefred. Decides to go to Axmouth and in doing so passes Bindon (Figure 2, locality 3) where she calls in. Bindon is described as formerly a mansion of the Wyke family, now occupied as a farm:

‘… its gables and broad mullioned windows, bore a peaceful, smiling appearance. Later (p.155) Bindon is described as having a front court enclosed by a wall. With this wall, the house formed a quadrangle. The porch and hall windows faced the entrance, looking into a turfed enclosure, whilst a chapel occupied one wing, and the other was given up to barns. The chapel, never consecrated, had been erected for divine service in 1425. (p.156). The barn had a large door under a pent-house roof. It was lime-washed at the extremities, but the floor on which the flails played was of oak boards, beaten hard and smooth. The barn was also provided with unglazed slits.’

Jane returns (p.99) to Rattenbury’s cottage to find him opening a secret drawer in the back of the wardrobe [full of money]. Rattenbury sees her and turns to attack her, but has a stroke and collapses on the floor. She closes up the secret drawer before setting out for help. pp.102-105. As Jane left the house, Winefred, covered in chalk dust, returns accompanied. by Jack Rattenbury who had rescued her from the blocked cave. Jane Marley sees the watch that her husband had given to Winefred and tells Winefred that it was her father who had given it to her (pp.105-6). 54

pp.108-114. Dench turns up at the cottage having heard of Rattenbury’s stroke and proposes to search the property for the money he supposes to be there. He doesn’t find anything before being interrupted by Winefred and Mrs Jose. Dench urges Jane to search for the money so that they can share it. Jane scorns him and states that it was he, Dench, who had betrayed the smugglers to the Preventive men. p.119. Jane Marley goes to examine Rattenbury’s secret store of money – as she does so, she is grabbed from behind by Rattenbury, but this is his last, dying action. pp.120-5. Funeral of Job Rattenbury. Olver Dench (for the third time) and Jack Rattenbury search the house for Job’s money. p.126. Jane Marley lets Mrs Jose know that Winefred has been acknowledged by her father and is to be known under her father’s name – Holwood. Jane Marley lets Dench know that Winefred has been acknowledged by her father (p.131). pp.133-9. Rattenbury’s house and contents auctioned off. The house was bought by Jane Marley for £70 [of Rattenbury’s money]. pp.140-7. Most people, Dench in particular, assumed that Jane Marley’s changed circumstances were because she had stolen Rattenbury’s money. Winefred was greatly upset by the accusations, particularly from Jack. pp.148-153. Jack looks for work as he is virtually penniless (having spurned an offer from Jane Marley of £100). pp.154-160. Mrs Jose has a Christmas party at Bindon. An overdressed Winefred attends and is shunned by both sexes. Jack watches from without, but is seen by Winefred. pp.161-162. Jack goes wandering around the countryside – his route as described in the novel cannot accurately be reconstructed (see Figure 2, routes ‘a’ and ‘b’). Just taking the first part of his description of the route, he appears to have gone northwestwards from Bindon along a track until it crossed the unnamed, westward- flowing, stream that rises at ‘Springhead’ and then joined the ‘old Roman road’ from Axmouth to Lyme (route ‘a’ on Fig. 2). However, from the details that he gives a little later on, Jack appears to have gone westwards and then north-westwards from Bindon along Stepps Road until it crossed the same unnamed, westward-flowing, stream and then joined the ‘old Roman road’ from Axmouth to Lyme (route ‘b’ on Fig. 2). Then follows a bit of nonsense as SBG describes this bit of Roman road as ‘a stretch of the Fosse way that led direct from London to Land’s End’. [The Fosse Way goes up into the Midlands and the Roman Road from Lyme is generally 55 regarded as crossing the River Axe just east of Colyton (Figure 2).] In the novel, the single street of Axmouth is described as on the right of the road, with the stream on the left, and the distance to the beach [?estuary] was a quarter of a mile. The next description tells us that Jack retraced his steps up the track ‘… to take the way above the house [Bindon] that led down the shallow combe running parallel with the Axmouth Valley, and which would lead him to a point somewhat nearer the mouth of the river, but equally convenient for the ferry. It was true that by this means he was describing a letter C.’ The description of a shallow combe running parallel to the Axmouth Valley suggests that this was the one followed by Stepps Road, but this would bring Jack out in Axmouth again. A more plausible route, not one that is parallel with the Axmouth Valley, is down the valley now followed by the South West Coast Path.

Whatever, Jack bumps into Winefred on the track to the ferry (p.163) and she lays in to him for spying on her, for following her and for thinking that her mother is a thief. pp.167-171. Jane resolves to send Winefred away from all the gossiping tongues and to be educated. pp.172-177. Winefred and Jack keep meeting, but argue every time. At the last encounter, Winefred tells Jack that she is going away, but will not tell him where. pp.178-182. Jane discusses with Mrs Jose about sending Winefred away. Mrs Jose suggests to her cousin, Mrs Tomkin-Jones, at Bath. and away she goes (p.183) – more of this by Philip tomorrow. p.195. In Bath, Winefred meets Frank Wardroper, son of Sir Barnaby Wardroper. The Wardroper Crest of Arms is a chevron between three choughs (p.198). Frank W. states that he has never seen a chough –Winefred promises to obtain a pair for him (p.199). pp.205-209. Winefred meets her father in Bath. pp.215-221. Jack Rattenbury delivers a hamper to the Tomkin-Jones from Mrs Jose. Asks to see Winefred (p.217) and discovers that she is with her father. Jack meets Winefred in Sydney Gardens (Figure 3) just after they have been talking to Sir Barnaby and Frank Wardroper. She is rude to Jack. pp.222-229. Jack had obtained work at Beer Quarries (Figure 2, locality 10) through the intervention of Mrs Jose whose brother, Captain James Ford, owns the quarries. Jack climbs up the track to the top of White Cliff (p.224) – sits down at the top – choughs flying around beneath him (p.226). 56

p.235. All the birds disappear from the Undercliff; later (p.293) all the rabbits desert the Undercliff and go onto the Bindon land – a forewarning of things to come. pp.237-241. Mrs Jose reads a letter from Mrs Tomkin-Jones to Jane in which she says that Winefred’s father is to take her away and sever all connection with Jane, and that Winefred fully concurs. p.242. Jane Marley turns up at Bath. At the Assembly Rooms (Figure 3), sees her husband for the first time in years, and is reunited with Winefred (p.245). pp.250-255. Winefred returns to the cottage on the Undercliff and tells Dench that she wants to acquire a couple of choughs. He tells her that they have all abandoned the Bindon side, but still remain at White Cliff. Winefred goes to the Red Lion, Seaton, to see if anyone will get the birds for her – Jack volunteers (p.254). Despite this, she continues to be rude to him. p.257. Jack prepares to get the choughs; Winefred becomes anxious about his safety and tells him that she no longer wants them. p.258. SBG gives the height of White Cliff as 400 ft; actually it is 270ft high. White Cliff is described ‘as a cap of Chalk a hundred feet thick, striated with beds of flint, and this rests on a series of shelving cherty sandstone beds of a tawny hue. The inclination of these gives to the whole headland an appearance of lurching to its fall’ (p.259). pp.260-1. Jack goes over the top tied to a rope. The rope becomes entangled with the rock and Jack unties himself and becomes trapped on the cliff face. Jane Marley turns up on the beach and says to Winefred ‘On me only is the guilt of the robbery, on you – that of his death’. Jack jumps to try and reach the end of the rope – Winefred faints. p.263. Winefred starts to climb the cliff path only to meet Jack coming down with the two choughs – she falls into his arms. Jack confides (p.265) that at one time he thought that Jane Marley had stolen his inheritance. Winefred, now knowing the truth about the money that was used to send her to Bath, says that though she loves Jack they ‘can never belong to each other’. pp.266-270. Winefred urges her mother to confess to Jack that her new-found wealth was stolen from his father. pp.271-276. Jack keeps meeting Winefred on the Downs and tries to persuade her to change her mind – to no avail. 57

pp.277-283. Winefred returns to Bath and the relationship between her father and mother is established as legitimately married. pp.291-294. Another sign of imminent landslip activity – the sea was ‘boiling’ and a ruddy brown island appeared in the sea just off the coast. Jane Marley goes to Mrs Jose to borrow some containers in which to put her belongings. In the meantime, Dench slips into the cottage and when Jane returns with a large carpet-bag, she enters her cottage and unknowingly locks herself and Dench inside. Starts (p.296) to put the money and jewels into the carpet-bag, but is interrupted by Dench who, after a fight, binds and gags her and proceeds to take the rest of the money and then escapes from the cottage. The land begins to shake (p.300).

p.302. Winefred ‘heard a strange rending sound as of thick cloth ripped asunder; at once was seen a jagged fissure running like a lightening-flash through the turf, followed by a gape, an upheaval, a lurch, then a sinkage, and a starring and a splitting of the surface. In another moment a chasm yawned before their eyes, threequarters of a mile long, torn across the path, athwart hedges, separating a vast tract of down and Undercliff from the mainland, and descending into the bowels of the earth’.

It was not safe to stand near the lip of this hideous rent, for that lip broke up and fell in masses into the abyss. Cracks started from it, or behind it, and widened, and whole blocks of rocks and tracts of turf disappeared. The surface beyond the chasm presented the most appalling appearance. It was in wild movement, breaking up like an ice-pack in a thaw. It swayed, danced, fell apart into isolated blocks, some stood up as pillars, some bent as horns, others balanced themselves, then leaned forward, and finally toppled over and disappeared.

p.303. Winefred discerned that a wide tract of land, many acres in length, had separated from the main body and was sliding seaward in a tilted position. At the same moment from out the sea rose a black ridge, like the back of a whale, but this drew out and stretched itself parallel to the fissure.

Dench is seen running from the cottage with the carpet bag and runs towards the onlookers, but comes upon against the ever-widening chasm that was like a mighty polypus mouth that had opened and was chewing and digesting its food in its throat and belly. He turns and runs in the opposite direction only to be stopped by another rent in the ground. He decides that his only escape is to leap the chasm – the crowd urge him to discard the carpet-bag. He leaps, but doesn’t quite make it and is dragged down by the weight of the bag and disappears in the midst of the rock and earth that was in the process of being ‘chewed’.

58 p.306. The chasm (Figure 2, locality 4) was some 360 ft across, and between it and the sea, about 440 yds had slipped away in an incline, much dislocated, but with an abrupt face forming one side of the great chasm (=Goat Island). A rescue party reach the still intact-cottage and frees Jane Marley. Jane confesses to Jack that the money that Dench stole had belonged to his father and that she had kept it – begs (p.309) Jack’s forgiveness. Mr Holwood acknowledges Jane as his wife, and Mrs Jose thrusts Winefred and Jack together with the instruction – kiss her!

Mrs Jose concludes with What a day this has been for rending asunder – and for joining together.

Fig. 2.1 – Winefred Localities 1

Fig 2.2 – Winefred Localities 2

Fig 2.3 – Winefred Locations (Bath)

The Undercliffs National Reserve Donald Campbell

This is a reinterpretation of the talk given to the Sabine Baring-Gould Appreciation Society on 24th September 2005, with quotations from the novel.

An aerial photograph of the Undercliff in the area of Goat Island and the Chasm, site of many events in the novel Winefred, and of the great landslip of 1839, introduced the talk. The Undercliffs, of Bindon, Dowlands, Whitlands and Pinhay, are unstable areas, now mainly wooded, between an inland cliff and sea cliffs, which, in places, are replaced by even more unstable landslips.

"The whole undercliff... had a ruffled and chopped surface that was broken into ridges and depressed into basins."

At the west end of the National Nature Reserve, the Axe flows into the sea beneath the ‘… blood red sandstone that comes to the surface between the hills of chalk’ which ‘with dusty sandstone underneath rears itself into a bold headland’. This is Haven Cliff. Eventually, one reaches Charton Bay, below Whitlands and Rousdon, before arriving in Lyme Regis.

Mr Holwood, Winefred's father, revisiting the area, had been told that this beach was unpleasant walking ‘… as there are no sands, nothing but shingle’. He, however, claimed ‘… he rather liked the shingles’. He was rowed to the dip of the cliffs at Rousdon and ‘… stepped ashore at the pretty piece of wooded Undercliff’. The slides showed much of what Mr Holwood had seen ‘… the outlines of the cliff, the features of the shore; reef and rubble, the line of torn seaweed and pounded shells.’

Lyme Regis had had prosperous days with fishing to Newfoundland and trading along the west African coast, but by the 1700s, it was in decline before the promotion of sea-bathing, the enjoyment of the picturesque and the rising science of geology gave it new life. In 1784, Copplestone Warre Bampfyld, visiting from Hestercombe in Somerset, had painted Whitlands Cliff and the Umble Rock. Slides of these pictures, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum, showed how much less tree covered the Undercliffs had been at that time.

Bampfyld's paintings were typically picturesque and an advertisement for the sale of Pinney (now Pinhay) in 1834 revelled in the romantic world of Alpine Scenery and Italian landscape.

‘The place must be visited and visited again to make the worth of Lyme understand”. A place upon which it has been said, the fossilist and geologist look as the sportsman does on Melton Mowbray’.

Mr Ames, who bought Pinhay, was soon to cause chaos by building a wall across the Undercliff to prevent entry. After being taken to court and losing, he built, instead, high walls on either side of the path for a mile and a half.

Further west, the 1846 tithe map shows West Cliff Cottage and, further west still, the more famous cottage where the Gapper family served teas for many years. This is Landslip Cottage built with stone from another cliff cottage which had subsided in the great landslip. From here, a path used to descend into the chasm.

‘A patch has been cleared which served as a kitchen garden and a small, but good orchard’. Not Rattenbury’s cottage, but West Cliff Cottage on the 1846 Axmouth tithe map. Mrs Mary Gapper in Landslip Cottage.

‘Almost before she had recovered, Winefred found herself in a cottage, warm, where a good fire burnt. She ventured close to the mouth of the chasm. It was torn through the chalky super-incumbent beds and through the subjacent sandstone and a portion of turfy down had moved seaward’.

This turfy down is interesting, for, elsewhere, Baring-Gould mentioned that

‘Winefred was now on the down where the turf was short, strewn with flints bleached by sun and rain’ and writes of ‘A wavering black ribbon [of people] on the short turf’.

In chapter 2, Jane and Winefred climbed:

‘… the mean track [which] ascends to the downs which overhang the sea and extend, partly in open tracts, in part enclosed, as far as Lyme Regis’.

He did mention Bindon, some way inland, as a farm, but the farmer in chapter 1 came ‘… from the other side of the water’ so how much of the down was actually in agricultural use other than grazing? By the time of the tithe map, Axmouth had twice as much arable land as meadow and pasture, and Goat Island, as we now call it, was mainly part of the field called Great Diverscombe which SBGAS members crossed on Saturday afternoon on their way to view the chasm. We know from Roberts and others that it had been planted with wheat, while the field to the east, Lower Lyme Pit, was full of turnips. The boundary between the two, a Devon bank, can still be found.

There are other problems that suggest that Baring-Gould had moved the landslip back in time, before the down was cleared for agriculture. Jack Rattenbury, the Job of the story, had been joined by his son at the end of the Napoleonic wars, had been arrested for the last time in 1836, and made his final appearance in court two months later to help his son avoid transportation for involvement in an affray at Budleigh Salterton. If young Jack was old enough to join his father in 1815 or so, he would have been rather old for Winefred in 1839, but if we move the story earlier, we have problems with Job’s death, for real-life Jack wrote his autobiography in 1837. Perhaps he wrote it earlier and it was published posthumously, but fiction remains fiction.

Goat Island, like the chalk Plateau, is now managed by English Nature and both have a wonderful range of chalk-loving plants near to their most westerly location in Britain. Eight species of orchid, several members of the gentian family and big, bold, Vipers Bugloss flourish, as do their associated butterflies. The whole length of 'soft cliff’ from Sidmouth to West Bay is of national importance for invertebrates.

As well as the wildlife, Donald showed slides of old prints of the chasm from the east and from the west and showing the great reef thrown up.

‘At the same moment from out of the sea rose a black ridge, like the back of a whale, but this drew out and stretched itself parallel to the fissure."

A slide of the most recent landslip, of early 2001, showed that the coast path, on a strip of land some 10 m wide, had fallen by up to 6 m along a length of 300 m. With each cubic metre weighing 2.6 tonnes, we have a mass of over 30 000 tonnes on the move in a 'small' slip.

Finally, out onto the top of Haven cliff for some of the most spectacular views of the whole coast, towards White Cliff and Beer Head with, or without, choughs. D'Urban and Matthew in the 1895 Birds of Devon, have it as a resident in small numbers in north Devon. They also mention '… we know of 6 having been killed at a single shot when feeding at a manure heap near Braunton', while others were trapped in the wild and sent as gifts around the country. Simon Holloway in The Historical Atlas of Breeding Birds 1875 - 1900 talks of extinctions along the south coast in the 1830s to 1950s, with last breeding on the Isle of Wight in 1840, and, by 1900, with the Dorset Coast shaded to indicate ‘occasional’. Perhaps Jack, at Winefred's behest, helped the chough to local extinction, but habitat loss (it needs short turf for feeding) with agricultural improvement above Whitecliff and the Undercliff will also have helped.

Fulmars, not choughs, featured in Donald's rounding off of the Undercliffs treasures. To have such seabirds over woodlands is strangely satisfying, while the combination 64 of views, fossils, past land use, chalk-loving flowers and increasing butterflies, like the Silver-washed Fritillary, make the National Nature Reserve much more than a coast path through developing woodland. With The French Lieutenant's Woman at one end and Winefred and her saga at the other, it also has great literary interest.

Fig. 3.1 Bindon Landslip 1840 (Goat Island is on the right)

Fig 3.2 Bindon Landslip, 1840 65

Notes on the Contributors

Roger Bristow is a geologist by profession and ‘discovered’ Sabine Baring-Gould whilst working in the Essex marshes. He bought a copy of Mehalah and, after reading it avidly, he was hooked. He has compiled an 80-page bibliography of SB- G’s works which includes over 1150 titles. For many years he was the Society’s Secretary and Editor of the SBGAS Newsletter.

Donald Campbell is a bird enthusiast who trained as a zoologist and spent his professional career as a biology teacher. When he took early retirement he had a senior tutor role in a middle and sixth form college. He became chairman of the Exe Vale and district Conservation Society and a voluntary Warden in the Undercliffs National Nature Reserve and a committee member of the East Devon branch of Devon Wildlife Trust.

Becky Smith is a professional author, whose detective novels delight readers the world over. She grew up in Devon where her interest in Baring-Gould’s life and work began. She now lives in rural Herefordshire, from where she emerges from time to time to research her novels and to attend crime writing events around the world. Her imprint, Praxis Books, has republished a number of SB-G’s books.

Pat Tansell, a lifelong resident of Bromsgrove in Worcestershire, is a library assistant by trade and a local history enthusiast in her free time. Searching old newspapers, mostly online, is one of her favourite things and she enjoys finding gems within them, whilst investigating local and other history topics. She chairs the Bromsgrove Society which is a joint civic and history society. She also serves on the Housman Society committee.

Katherine Stansfield is a novelist and poet who grew up in Cornwall and now lives in Cardiff. Her historical crime series ‘Cornish Mysteries’ is published by Allison and Busby. She teaches crime writing and is an associate lecturer for the Open university’s MA in creative writing, a writing fellow at the University of South Wales and a mentor for literature Wales.

Rev Prebendary Norman Wallwork is a Methodist minister living in retirement in Exeter. In addition to appointments in London and the provinces he has taught liturgy and worship at Wesley College Bristol. He was a member of the panel that produced the current Methodist hymnbook Singing the Faith for which one of his own hymns and a number of his revisions were commissioned.