A SIDMOUTH LOVE STORY

Sometimes the inscription on a tombstone seems to want to tell a story, the composer of the text being, as it were, an author pushed for space.  On a  horizontal slab of granite in Salcombe Regis churchyard  can, with difficulty, the inscription will soon be illegible, be read the following:

Sacred to the memory of

CHARLES SATTERTHWAITE

of Lancaster

who departed this life

at Sidmouth

?  ?  1815

Aged 26 (?) Years

and of Frances Nannette Sheridan

the daughter of

Charles Francis Sheridan

The Secretary of War in Ireland

14(?)  October  1816

Aged 27 years

Surviving her Husband 

Only one Year 

She returned to Sidmouth

for the purpose of being laid

in the same Ground.

They were married in Cheltenham on 14th December 1809.    They were young and wealthy.  He was of Rigmaiden Hall in Westmorland.  His father was John Satterthwaite , a prosperous West India merchant, 

of Castle Park, Lancaster.  She was the eldest daughter of Charles Francis Sheridan, a colourful character with a distinguished literary wife.  Frances Nanette was, moreover , a niece of  the great and famous Richard Brinsley Sheridan, playwright and politician.  I think I have read somewhere that she too was devoted to the stage.  There was a boy born  to them in 1810 and another in 1812.  Charles and Frances must have seemed an enviable couple but they were both to die tragically young.    

The story that their churchyard tomb tells is surely a love story.   They came to Sidmouth in 1815, probably for the sake of Charles' health.  I like to think that they loved the place.   Salcombe Regis must have held some special significance for them;  Charles was buried there.  A year later Frances Nanette, knowing that she was dying, made the journey to Sidmouth  to see the town again and to lie at her husband's side. 

EVACUEE CHILDREN VISIT EXETER, 1940.

Shortly after the outbreak of the Second World War seventy-five children who had been evacuated from London to Exmouth  came by train, with their teachers, to visit Exeter.   They were from Lambeth and Waterloo and they were, says a report in the Express and Echo, (Wednesday 27th March 1940) "thrilled at the prospect of seeing ancient buildings and of having history combined with holiday."

Their schedule was a demanding one.  They started with a tour of St Nicholas Priory.   Their guide there was the Curator , at that time a Miss Upright.   I feel sure she lived up to her name.  Next, the Bishop of Crediton, no less, took them round the Cathedral and they were then given lunch in the Cathedral Rest Rooms.  Thence they were taken to the Guildhall where Mace-Sergeant W.E. Lovick showed them the Cap of Maintenance and the Sword of State and talked to them about the hall, the city regalia and the famous paintings on the walls. After this they were let loose in Rougemont and Northernhay where "they made Athelstan's Tower resound with Cockney accents." 

I read this report with a curious feeling of loss.  No doubt the reality of a party so large of children so young was as chaotic then as it would be today but the impression I received was of an England where children were actually interested in their nation's history and where good citizens were willing and able to show and share the city's glories and  to demonstrate their own civic pride.  

CAPTAIN REDVERS BULLER'S VICTORIA CROSS

 

A week or two ago it seemed that Exeter City Council were going to move the magnificent statue of Redvers Buller in order to protect the sensibilities of those Exeter College students, a minority surely, who are offended by his presence at their gates.  Fortunately this is now not likely to happen and we shall not probably need to mount a 'LEAVE SIR REDVERS WHERE HE IS! - MOVE EXETER COLLEGE!' campaign.

Yes, there was once a British Empire.  The conversation will continue as to how much harm or good it did to the causes of humanity, (whatever they are!)   But there can be no doubt that its servants were often great men, brave and courageous, who endured hardships and overcame tremendous difficulties.  We do well to remember them.  Buller was such a man.    And the artists who commemorated such men and women were skilful craftsmen whose work lives on.  

 This article (my bold type) is from the Durham County Adviser - Friday 13 October 1899:

"SIR REDVERS BULLER

Sir Redvers Buller comes of an old Devonshire family. and had he wished it he might have lived the life of a country gentleman.   But he early decided otherwise, and was wearing the Queen's uniform at nineteen.   Eagles do not catch flies" is the proud motto of his house.   Archibald Forbes, in speaking of Buller's achievements in the Zulu war, says:- 'Here was a man with some six thousand a year, a beautiful house in fair Devon waiting for his occupation, a seat in Parliament all but secured; and yet for the patriotic love of leading that strange medley of reckless adventurers he was living squalidly in the South African veldt,  sleeping in the open for three nights out of the six with a single blanket thrown over his body, his hands so disfigured by cattle sores, the curse of the veldt, that I never saw them not bandaged up.   With his intrepid heroism he had saved the lives of so many of his men that in talking to them, it almost seemed that he had saved all their lives." Sir Redvers Buller, who is just sixty has, it is said, seen more active service than any soldier in Europe.  It was on March 28th 1879, after the retreat from Isandlwana, (says a military writer in "The Gem") that Redvers Buller gained the Victoria Cross.  He had been making one of his intrepid reconnaissances when his men were suddenly surprised by the approach of a large number of Zulus.  It was necessary to retire.  But never for a moment did Buller lose his coolness and calmness.  The Zulus came down the hill in hot pursuit.  Man after man fell before their assegais or were buried under the dislodged boulders.   Captain D'Arcy wa one of the first to fall.  Buller rescued him from his assailants placed him on the back of his horse, and galloped off with him to a place of safety.  Scarcely had he returned when Lieutenant Everitt was dismounted and once again he snatched him from the ground and bore him to the rear,  And yet again, seeing a wounded trooper whose doom seemed assured. he also carried him off the field when the enemy was within a hundred yards of their prostrate victim.  For this almost superhuman feat he now bears the coveted bronze badge."

A SCUFFLE WITH THE MILITIA, EXETER 1772

 A Letter from Exeter September 21st 1772

"A great Concourse of People assembled on Sunday Evening last, to see the Militia at Roll-call. in a large spacious Green at the back of this City;  but the Company being so great, crowded rather too close to the Officers.   Col. Ackland then addressed the Company, and begged they would draw back; which not being readily complied with, he addressed them a second Time, though in a different and somewhat rougher Stile, bidding them stand off, or he would force them to it.  His Threats, however, were attended with just the same Effect as his Entreaties.  Finding all his Endeavours to persuade the Company to draw back, fruitless, he had Recourse to other Means:  He applied to Capt. Chase to march his Company of Light Infantry among the Crowd and knock down all who obstructed the Passage, among whom were several Women with Child, old Cripples, &c.  This Behaviour soon raised the Resentment of the Mob, who, in their Turn, discharged a Volley of Stones, &c. at the Soldiers, and collared and struck the Colonel several times.  The Officers and Soldiers in an Instant, with their Swords drawn, rushed among the Crowd, and endeavoured to seize some of the Ringleaders, on which a dreadful, though not very bloody, scuffle ensued;  the Mob endeavoured to mark the Fellows by cutting their Clothes off their Backs, in doing which they sometimes cut rather too deep.

The Worshipful the Mayor, attended by the Stewards and Constables, repaired to this Scene of Confusion and by taking two Fellows into custody, restored matters to Order.  On examining the Prisoners it appeared that the Officers first collared and drew their Swords on them, without the least Provocation, in Consequence of which they were immediately discharged.  This is not the first Scuffle we have had with these Men-ofWar."

  Derby Mercury 2nd Oct 1772

Eighteenth Century life seems to have been as rumbustious as Hogarth painted it.   Here in Exeter it seems you could spend your Sundays scuffling.   If you were a part-time soldier you could hope to knock down a few old cripples and pregnant women and even to wave your sword at the 'mob'..  If you were with 'the People' you could heave a few bricks at a light-infantryman or even collar a colonel. 

I like the capitalisation of nouns in these old newspaper reports,  'Volley of Stones' is so much more graphic than 'volley of stones'.

SIR REDVERS BULLER

From:  The Stamford Mercury  5th June 1908:

"Fifty thousand admirers subscribed for the equestrian statue of Sir Redvers at Exeter - a memorial which, as Lord Wolseley said when it was unveiled, "will remind future generations of Western men of the brilliant services performed by Devonshire's most illustrious sons of this period, and cannot fail to inspire them with a desire to serve our Sovereign in their turn as well and faithfully as Sir Redvers Buller has done throughout his long and brilliant career."

Fifty thousand proud Devonians subscribed to put him where he is.   Who would pull him down?

THE EXE FROZEN

It is no secret that the world is warming but the degree (le mot juste!?) to which winters in Exeter have changed is surprising,

 Mr James Commins, the corresponding tobacconist,  whose Reminiscences of Exeter Fifty Years Ago were first published in 1877, addresses his younger readers:   "The young reader must understand,"  he writes, "the winters were much more severe than now;  skating almost a certainty, and snow falling at various times for two or three days and remaining on the ground for several weeks."  

Have not old people been saying something like this to young  people for ever?  And were not the summers always sunnier?  Mr Commins is remembering the early years of the century, perhaps the same hard winters that inspired Dickens' white Christ masses (no other plural seems to me satisfactory) in Pickwick,  Christmas Carol  &c.    In Dickens' day not so old Exonians could tell tall tales, by way of example, of the excessive fall of snow of 1751 when the snow in Devon was three foot deep  and there were many melancholy accidents, waggons overturned, coaches axle-deep on the roads, sheep lost on the farms, extensive damage to property and death through accident..   

The  Januaries, however, of Mr Commins' own times seem severe enough to us today.  There was a heavy fall of snow on New Year's Day 1880 and the Exe froze in 1881.  Typical is the report of Trewman's Exeter Flying Post of January  4th  1871:  The Exe had again frozen over and "New Year's Day and Christmas Day were very much alike, and neither of them differed in any material point from the six days which intervened;  Sunday was, in fact, the twelfth day of hard frost." 

In February 1855,   the Gloucester Journal  had reported: "The whole of the country has alike been influenced by the long-continued frost.  The poor have suffered severely by being thrown out of  employment, and the prosperous and well-to-do have enjoyed themselves by various amusements on the ice,  The tiver Exe was frozen over at Exeter, and a dinner for a convivial party was cooked on the ice by means of a gas-stove; games of skittles and other amusements have taken place, and skaters have abounded on various parts of the river."

I  think it likely that even some of 'the poor' found time for fun and games on the ice but two centuries ago newspapermen, as today, liked to demonstrate a social conscience and to signal their own virtue,  not that I doubt there were enough citizens who suffered from the cold.   Skittles on the ice sounds fun and one would certainly have liked to have had an invitation to that convivial dinner-party.

There have been notably hard winters since then  but the trend is  clear.   Today as I write, the sun is shining and the temperature is at seven degrees centigrade - positively balmy!   
   

THE EXETER WAR MEMORIAL

England can boast many fine war memorials but the bronze group which Devon-born-and-bred sculptor John Angel created for the City of Exeter's War Memorial is as good as any.  Angel was a consummate artist.  His later career was in the United States where there are many examples of his  excellent work. The famous bronze doors of St Patrick's Cathedral in New York are his.   

On the first of August  1923,  shortly after the memorial was unveiled,  The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette published some rather bad couplets under the heading  Exeter War Memorial.  They were  composed by one C.E.B.  

THE SAILOR

Guard of the Seas I sit with eyes that gaze afar;

Foes around me, beneath, affright not the British Tar.

THE SOLDIER.

Ward of the Trenches I sit (I have marched full many a mile)

I have fought, I have suffered,  - I win - and that's why I wearily smile.

THE PRISONER OF WAR.

Prisoner of War I sit behind the fast closed gates.

Unconquered, unbroken, I wait in trust for my rescuing mates.

THE WOMAN.

Woman of Pity ,  I sit and prepare the healing hands

For the shattered and wounded limbs of my Brothers from many lands.

VICTORY.

High above all I stand, bay wreath uplifted to Heaven, 

The Dragon beneath my feet, I honour the men of Devon.

I publish these verses again here because, crude though they are, they remind us of the spirit of the times and of the real sacrifice which these figures represent.   The heroic and colossal four are still sitting in Northernhay Gardens and they are well worth a second look. Victory soars high above their heads like Marianne at the barricades.  Many who pass by do not see her.  Some seem not able to raise their eyes from their mobile phones.  She is truly magnificent.  She rises triumphant, one foot clear of the ground and her lovely arm raised on high.   She is a wonder to gaze on from any angle,  perhaps most glorious  against  summer skies, which  at the moment we do not have, and from Northernhay Gate.