“I John o’ Gaunt, do give and grant,
From me and mine, to thee and thine,
The barton fee of Umberlee.”
Sir Robert de Basset not only bade adieu to Whitechapel, whither he never returned, but shortly before the death of Queen Elizabeth, he made another change, and for the sake of his wife’s health, took up his residence at Heanton Court, she having brought to him the manors of Sherwill and Heanton Punchardon. Situated on the right bank of the Taw, about three miles below Barnstaple, Heanton Court is now only a picturesque farmhouse, but sixty years ago, according to an eye-witness, the walls were still worse, and resembled a dilapidated factory. This place, as will be shown more plainly hereafter, was the original of the Narnton Court of the Maid of Sker.
Now Sir Robert and his wife were both descended from the Plantagenets—his wife certainly, and Sir Robert himself, if there was any truth in the allegation that his great-great-grandmother was the illegitimate daughter of Edward IV. Be that as it may, the knight saw fit to join himself to the inglorious company of claimants to the vacant throne of the Virgin Queen, two hundred in number; and, on the accession of King James, he had, in consequence to escape down the river Taw and sail into the open sea en route for the Continent. Two years later an edict was promulgated, assuring the pretenders that, on dutiful submission, they would be allowed to escape with a fine. So the Bassets came back, and on bended knees craved King Jamie’s forgiveness. Mrs Basset of Watermouth Castle is said to be the possessor of the embroidered silk apron worn by Lady Basset on this memorable occasion. The monarch used rough language, intimating to the male suppliant that he was a big bird, and that he must clip his wings—no idle threat, since he imposed a fine necessitating the sale of fifteen manors. The title also was annulled.
The next station to Umberleigh on the London and South-Western line is Burrington, where Mrs Shapland was discovered (Maid of Sker, chapter lxiv.).
About three miles and a half west of Southmolton lies the parish of Filleigh, in which is situate Castle Hill, the beautiful seat of Earl Fortescue, with its park of over eight hundred acres, a feature of which is an avenue of trees nearly a mile long, leading to a triumphal arch. The name Castle Hill is actually a misnomer, as the mansion is not of the old baronial type; but the top of the wooded eminence, on whose slope it stands, has an artificial ruin, serving to keep the description in countenance. From the terrace the ground drops away to an ornamental lake, and what with the clusters of trees, the shrubbery, and the rare garden, Castle Hill may be fairly commended as a domain worthy of the ancient family by which it is owned. One old building which has now disappeared, was called the “Hermitage.” This was the subject of a poem by Mr Badcock, a native of Southmolton, in the London Magazine for 1782, but I have been unable to discover much about it, save that it bore the inscription: “I have seen an end of all perfection, but Thy commandment is exceeding broad”—a suitable text, one may think, for a hermitage.
The grounds of Castle Hill were remodelled by Hugh Fortescue, Lord Clinton, created Earl Clinton and Baron Fortescue in 1746. He died without issue in 1751, when the earldom became extinct. The barony passed to his half-brother Matthew, who died in 1785, and was succeeded by his son Hugh. In 1789 the latter was created Earl Fortescue and Viscount Ebrington, the second title being derived from his Gloucestershire seat, Ebrington Hall. He was followed by his son, also called Hugh, who had taken an active part in the debates on the Reform Bill in the Lower House, and was appointed Lord-Lieutenant and Custos Rotulorum of the County of Devon. An interesting episode in this nobleman’s career was a visit to Napoleon in December 1814, of which he published a vivacious description.
The present earl was born in 1818. As is well known, he has long suffered from an affection of the eyes, brought about by a conscientious discharge of public duty. Viscount Ebrington, his eldest son, now occupies the honourable position so ably filled by his grandfather.
For a full history of the Fortescue family in all its branches, the reader is referred to the late Lord Clermont’s large and handsome volume on the subject, of which it contains an exhaustive account. Here it may be observed that the name, which is a little remarkable, is traced to an incident in the battle of Senlac, when Richard le Fort saved the life of William, Duke of Normandy, by protecting him with his shield from the blows of his assailants. From that time, and for that reason, he was known as Richard le Fortescue, or Strong Shield. Such, at least, is Holinshed’s story. Tradition further states that after the Conquest Richard returned to Normandy, where his descendants through his second son, Richard, continued to flourish till the eighteenth century. The eldest son, Sir Adam, who had also fought at Senlac, remained behind in England, and was the ancestor of all the English Fortescues.
Among the benefactors of Southmolton occurs the name of Lord Fortescue of Credan, who left £50 to the poor of the parish. A Justice of the Common Pleas, and descended from an offshoot of the Castle Hill branch (which, by the way, is not the senior), the Conveyancer’s Guide preserves the following amusing anecdote respecting him. The baron was the possessor of one of the strangest noses ever seen, much resembling the trunk of an elephant. “Brother, brother,” said he to the counsel, “you are handling the case in a very lame manner.” “No, no, my lord,” was his reply, “have patience with me, and I will make it as plain as the nose on your lordship’s face.”