“Now it may be interesting if I tell you what happened one afternoon as I and Blackmore were walking up the Lowman. We came to a gate at the end of a field, and just before we got over it, I saw something sitting on the gate at the opposite end of the field. It was a figure dressed in white clothing, no head appearing, and while I was wondering what it was, it suddenly disappeared to the right of a gate thro’ a hedge.

“I said to Blackmore, ‘Did you see that white figure sitting on the gate?’

“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I could not make out what it was.’

“When we got to the gate, we hunted the hedge and all about by the stream, but could not find or see anything; so we came to the conclusion that it must have been a ghost. When we got back to the school, I believe we told what we had seen; anyhow, we thought no more about it. But about three days afterwards, some people coming by the coach from Halberton saw the same apparition about the same spot, and told of it in the town, and it came to our ears, and then we immediately related what we had seen.

“This was a great confirmation of our story, and there it must end. But I can state that all that I have said was true. I am no great believer in ghosts, but have related the above whenever in conversation ghosts have come to the front.”

CHAPTER V
THE TOWN OF THE TWO FORDS

An imaginative mind, anxious for exercise, might easily find a worse pretext than the probable appearance of Tiverton at different epochs in its history. Three monstrous fires—in 1598, 1612, and 1731—have reduced the town to ashes, so that, despite its antiquity, it presents, on the whole, an extremely modern aspect, which, as time goes on, tends to become accentuated. Still certain buildings remain—not many, I fear—from which, like Richard Owen in another sphere of palæontology, the lover of the past may gather ideas for his reconstructive task. Ex pede Herculem.

Every stranger, on arriving at Tiverton, is at once struck by the Greenway almhouses, with their quaint little chapel. These were miraculously preserved in the earlier devastations, when, according to contemporary notices, the fire “invironed those sillie cottages on every side, burning other houses to the grounde which stood about them, and yet had they no hurt at all.”[6] In the third welter of flame the almhouses were less fortunate, and it is a singular fact that the only life lost on this occasion—on the two previous there had been many victims—was that of an inmate who obstinately refused to quit the building, saying, “Who ever heard of an almshouse being burnt?” When, at last, he was convinced of the peril of optimism, and he would fain have made good his escape, it was too late—all egress was barred. Even in this, however, there was something miraculous, for, though the almshouses were burnt and transformed into fiery catacombs, the chapel was inexplicably preserved, and remains to this day, with all its rich ornaments and emblematical figures untouched. The inscriptions, however, or, as Blackmore playfully expresses it, “the souls of John and Joan Greenway” are not “set up in gold letters.” Had the name “Gold Street” anything to do with this idea?

The founder of the almshouses was John Greenway, born about 1460, of whom little is known that is authentic. Apparently of lowly origin, “by ability and industry he acquired an ample income” as a merchant. So says Harding, but it is seldom that ample incomes are acquired by brains and diligence alone. The stroke of luck may almost always be charged as a contributory factor. If legend may be believed, Greenway was positively inspired to wealth-making. A simple weaver, young and without prospects, he dreamed a dream which was thrice repeated. Each time a mysterious voice admonished him to proceed to London town, and there, on London Bridge, to await a cavalier on a white nag, who would have a message for him. The sanguine youth obeyed these supernatural instructions; and, taking his stand on the appointed spot, was accosted by an unknown horseman, by whom he was told to return forthwith to Tiverton and dig in a certain quarter. Again Greenway obeyed, and was rewarded by the discovery of a crock or pot of gold, which, as his initial capital, enabled him to launch out into business, and ultimately to found these almshouses in 1517. There is a notion that amidst the exterior carvings of St Peter’s Church, where Greenway built him a lovely chantry with wagon roof and Renaissance door, is sculptured the crock of plenty, but hitherto—owing perhaps to embarras de richesse—it has escaped detection.

Now the embellishments of Greenway’s two chapels deserve close attention, not only on account of their beauty, but for other reasons that will immediately appear. Greenway is represented by his arms (a chevron between 3 covered cups, on a chief 3 sheep’s heads erased), his staple-mark, and his cipher, which are figured on shields inserted in the quatrefoil of the cornices of the chapel in Gold Street and its porch; and by the following rhyme inscribed in bold letters under the main cornice:—