Devon, Its Moorlands, Streams and Coasts | Page 5

plans were
ripening, and the event is marked in the Receiver's accounts by the
entry: 'Two bottles of wine given to John Fortescue, before the coming
of Margaret, formerly Queen.' Not long afterwards Warwick and the
Duke of Clarence fled to Exeter, which had to stand a siege on their
behalf; but the effort to take the city was half-hearted, and in twelve
days the attempt was abandoned. Edward IV arrived in pursuit, but too
late, for 'the byrdes were flown and gone away,' and a quaint farce was
solemnly played out. The city had just shown openly that its real
sympathies were Lancastrian, but neither King nor citizens could afford
to quarrel. 'Both sides put the best face on matters; the city was loyal;
the King was gracious ... the citizens gave him a full purse, and he gave
them a sword, and all parted friends.'
Richard III's visit was more eventful. The allegiance yielded him by the
West was of the flimsiest character, and in the autumn of 1483 a
conspiracy was formed, and Henry, Earl of Richmond, was proclaimed
King in Exeter. Here Richard hastened at the head of a strong force, to
find that nearly all the leaders had fled, and there remained only his
brother-in-law, Sir John St Leger, and Sir John's Esquire, Thomas
Rame. So the King 'provided for himself a characteristic entertainment,'
and both knight and squire were beheaded opposite the Guildhall.
Before he left, Richard went to look at the Castle, and asked its name.
The Mayor answered, 'Rougemont'--a word misunderstood by the King,
who became 'suddenly fallen into a great dump, and as it were a man
amazed.' Shakespeare's lines give the explanation of his discomfiture.
'It seems,' comments Fuller, 'Sathan either spoke this oracle low or
lisping.'
The next siege of Exeter was when the followers of Perkin Warbeck
surged in thousands round the city. Their assault was vigorous and
determined; they tried to undermine the walls, burned the north gate,
and, repulsed at this point, broke through the defences at the east gate.
After a sharp struggle in the streets, the rebels were thrust back, and
were forced to march northwards, leaving Exeter triumphant. Three
weeks later Henry VII entered Exeter with Warbeck, as his prisoner.

The King was very gracious to the city that had just given such eminent
proofs of its loyalty, and bestowed on the citizens a second sword of
honour and a cap of maintenance, and ordered that a sword-bearer
should be appointed to carry the sword before the Mayor in civic
procession.
Henry VIII gave Exeter 'the highest privilege,' says Professor Freeman,
'that can be given to an English city or borough.' He made it a county,
'with all the rights of a county under its own Sheriff.' An Act of
Parliament was also passed to undo the harm done by Isabel de
Fortibus, representative of the Earls of Devon, when she made a weir
about the year 1280--still called Countess Weir--that blocked the free
waterway to the sea. As the tide naturally comes up the river a little
way beyond Exeter, before the weir was made ships had been able to
sail up to the watergate of the city. The first attempts to improve
matters after this Act was passed failed, but a canal was constructed
with tolerable success in the reign of Elizabeth.
In 1549 came the siege of Exeter that followed the burning of Crediton
barns. The Devonshire rebels had been reinforced by a large number of
Cornishmen, who resented the new Prayer-Book, and the law obliging
them to hear the services in English instead of Latin, more bitterly and
with greater reason than the people of Sampford Courtenay. For to
them it was more than unwelcome change in the Liturgy; it meant also
that their services were read in an alien tongue. 'We,' the Cornish,
'whereof certain of us understand no English, utterly refuse the new
English,' was their protest. It is curious to think that more than half a
century later English was a foreign language in Cornwall. In James I's
reign, 'John Norden ... constructing his Speculum, his topographical
description of this kingdom,' writes: 'Of late the Cornishmen have
muche conformed themselves to the use of the English tongue;' and
adds that all but 'some obscure people' are able to 'convers with a
straunger' in English. The bitterness aroused by the religious question
was intensified by a report which was 'blazed abroad,' as Hooker says,
'a Gnat making an Elephant, that the gentlemen were altogether bent to
over-run, spoil, or destroy the people.' No one could have acted with
greater loyalty and courage than the Mayor, John Blackaller, and his

powers were put to a hard trial before the end of the siege. Not only
was there an active and