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Mary Maria Colling

From Bray (1838)

TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ.

MY DEAR SIR

I have heard Mary Colling (who is a most intelligent and exact registrar of all the old tales, traditions, and characters of any note in her native town) tell a very interesting story concerning a poor woman, formerly of this place, the particulars of which Mary received from a near relative of the person concerned in the tale, and these I deem not unworthy mentioning to you.

...

Amongst the living characters that Mary Colling, to use her own words, "loves to be telling about," is Old Nanny, the water-cress woman, - "Mary," said I one day, "you have promised to bring me acquainted with your old Nanny, about whom you tell me so many anecdotes. I want to see her: what sort of a person is she in her appearance?"
"If you please, ma'am, I'll show you, I've got her in my pocket."
"In your pocket, Mary! why old Nanny is not a play, is she?"
"Oh no; but I know you will not laugh at me for what I have done. But as you said the other day you should like to see Nanny, I have been trying to draw her picture for you on a bit of paper, in her tidy cloak, and with her basket on her arm, just as she comes to our house with one thing and the other that we buy of her. There it is, ma'am."

Mary put into my hands a little sketch of a whole length figure that, considering Mary who attempted it had, I will venture to say, scarcely seen any prints beyond those to be found in her own little books, and knew nothing of the rules of drawing, really did surprise me and Mr. Bray too; the figure had so completely the character of a market-woman prepared for her calling. I gave the sketch all the praise it deserved; for Mary is one of those to whom praise does good; it inspires her with hope and cheerfulness, and not with a shadow of vanity. "But, Mary," said I, still looking at the sketch, "in your drawing, you put me in mind of the Greek painter, whose story no doubt you have read; you remember he despaired of being able to depict the grief of a father for his daughter's loss, and so he covered the face with a veil. Thus have you, not feeling yourself equal to give me a sketch of old Nanny's features, very ingeniously contrived completely to hide the face, all saving the tip of the chin, under the poke of the bonnet. Now Nanny's face is the very thing I most wish to see."

"And it's as honest and as good-tempered a face as you will see, ma'am, in a summer's day. And Nanny's very good-looking, too, for one of her years; for she's up four-score years old, and that's a great age."
"Indeed! and yet you tell me she goes out on Dartmoor to pick cresses and hurtleberries to gain a living. Do tell me all about her." And then Mary Colling gave me Nanny's history as nearly as possible in the following words:-

"Old Nanny, the water-cress woman, is, as I have tried to make her in the drawing, rather short and stout, and looks the picture of health and cheerfulness. Her right name is, I think, Anne Burnford James. Her grandfather was, as she told me, a clergyman, who bore a great character in his day, particularly for conjuring away a very troublesome ghost, and confining him in a tower; the clock of which has never since struck, as the old people of the country say. Nanny is a widow, and well known as a very hard-working woman. She lives with her daughter-in-law, who is also a widow with three children; and, like Ruth and Naomi, they will not part, and they worship God together. You have heard tell, no doubt, how many sailors' families lived about Plymouth and this country formerly, whose ship some said was lost, but most believe it was taken by pirates, and that he was killed. The eldest boy goes to school at Greenwich,the others are very sickly, and live at home with their mother. She is poor, industrious, and honest; and what with old Nanny's hard labour and the little allowed by the parish, they all make a very decent appearance; and now the daughter-in-law has set up a little shop to supply poor people with trifling things; and the profit of it helps pay the rent.

"Poor old soul! she is up with the lark, and oftentimes during summer she goes to Dartmoor to gather hurtleberries, called by the country people, hurts. And sometimes she's away to the woods for nuts or blackberries; or else to the hedges and fields for herbs and elderberries. She frequently rises on a frosty morning, long before day, and walks four or five miles to pull water-cresses, when the stream where they grow has been half frozen. She told me that one more, after coming out of the water into which she had been obliged to go, to gather the cresses, her clothes were frozen about her. These vegetables and herbs she sells, and supplies persons who make elder-wine or blackberry-syrup. The poorer class have a great opinion of old Nanny as a doctress, and she is the most kind and useful person in the world to them; and does cures, and is is very clever in dressing a would. No one better understands the medical qualities of different herbs, which she says are too much despised and neglected by the real doctors. She finds many rare ones on Dartmoor; and always turns her apron before she goes there in search of them, because she was once pixy-led on the moor."

...

Another of our customs is not, I believe, confined to this place; it is that of the Bible and the key. Many old people suspect when they have lost anything, and suspect it to be stolen, take the fore-door key of their dwelling, and in order to find out the thief, tie this key to the Bible, placing it very carefully on the eighteenth verse of the fiftieth psalm. Two persons hold up the book by the bow of the key, and first repeat the name of the suspected thief, and then the verse from the psalm ["When thou sawest a thief, then thou consentedst with him, and hast been partaker with adulterers"]. If the Bible moves, the suspected person is considered guilty; if it does not move, innocent. Mary Colling tells me she has very gravely seen this done, as an infallible test of finding out the truth.

Mary informs me that one day when herself and her little dog Dimpler took a walk into the country very lovingly together, she happened to pass by a cottage and garden. Pleased with the neatness and prettiness of the spot, she stayed awhile to look on the flowers. A poor woman, seeing she did so, came out, asked her to walk in, and gave her a very pretty nosegay. Mary observed in the cottage window several beautiful plants, each having a small piece of black crape or riband tied around it. She inquired what might be the reason of their being so decorated. When the poor woman told her, with a sigh, that she had very lately buried her husband, and if she had not put the plants into mourning they would have died too. Mary was much affected by the distress she evidently saw putting these questions had given the poor widow, and said she was sorry she had asked about the plants. But the widow told her not to grieve for that; the question was natural enough for one who came from a town, but the custom was a usual thing in the country.

There is much talk in this place about a mysterious and subterranean passages (I should like to find it out) that leads all the way from the Abbey to the gateway of Fitzford. A great deal of wealth in coin and plate, including, as I was told, "a crucifix as large as life," being there deposited. Mary heard an old woman say that she was told by her great-grandmother, that during the civil wars a waggon load of plate was carried in there, and never afterwards brought out...Every body, I observe, has a tale to tell about this old passage; but question them closely, and you are sure to find they heard it from somebody, who heard it from somebody else, and so on - a sort of evidence to be cautiously admitted in a statement of facts.

I was about to conclude this long "and very pithy" letter (as a good friend of mine calls the subjects on which I have been writing), when Mary Colling, who always acts as hr own postman, brought me one written by herself, in reply to some questions I had proposed to her, about certain places, &c., in our town. I shall here, therefore, transcribe a portion of her letter, as it will give you a fair specimen of her prose style. Many are the authors and authoresses of this day who, from not being, like Mary, content to follow nature, and to write as they would talk, produce a less pleasing mode of expression than the following:

TO MRS BRAY.

MY DEAR MADAM

On the south side of the Tavy is a hamlet consisting of several cottages, called in the parish register Dolvins, but better known to the inhabitants by the name of Guernsey, that nick-name having been given to it in consequence of a very noted smuggler who resided there some years ago. At a little distance eastward is another hamlet, called Greenland, from its cold situation; the sun seldom shines upon it, as it is overhung with a very high rock whence issue several springs of water; and during the winter the icicles (or, as the little boys call them, the cockables) which hang from it, are looked upon as a great curiosity, from their size and transparency. The Exeter road, opposite this hamlet, affords a picturesque view of the bright stream of water from the rock which dashes into your favourite Tavy. Near is a rookery and an orchard, that in summer adds to the beauty of the scene. The wild flowers, which there grow in abundance, have also a pretty appearance; and though the place is considered so cold, there is a very good garden that abounds with various sorts of flowers. The female who resides in a neat cottage attached to it, takes great pride in her garden, every corner of it having a something to boast of.

In reply to the question about the haunted house, I have learned the following particulars. About half a mile from Tavistock there is a farm called Down House, the dwelling itself was rebuilt about eleven or twelve years ago. It was considered before an ancient place, and haunted by ghosts. Here is a story of one. The family who resided there well knew the hour of the night in which the ghosts made their appearance, and always took care to go to bed before it came. But it happened on a time that a child was very ill, and asked its mother for water; she went to the pitcher to get some, when the child refused any but such as might be got directly from the pump. The mother became quite distressed, unwilling to displease the child, yet afraid to go down to the pump, as it was about the hour in which the ghost walked. She considered upon it a little while, and the child still continuing very anxious about the water, she at last said, "In the name of God I will go down." She did so. Passing over the stairs she perceived a shadow, and then she heard footsteps; and when she came to the pump she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and perceived a tall man. Summoning a good resolution, however, she said, "In the name of God, why troublest thou me?" The ghost replied, "It is well for thee that thou hast spoken to me in the name of God; this being the last time allotted me to trouble this world, or else I should have injured thee. Now do as I tell thee, and be not afraid. Come with me and I will direct thee to a something which shall remove this pump: under it is concealed treasure."

This something was procured, and applied as the ghost directed. The pump was quickly removed, when under it there lay a great deal of money. She was desired to take up the treasure and stock her farm with it. And the spirit told her that is ever any person molested or deprived her of her property, he should suffer well for it. He then ordered her to go and give the water to the child, who, in reward for her courage and trust in God, should recover. The cock crew; directly the figure dwindled again to a shadow, ascended through the air, and she watched till he soon became a small bright cloud" -

There is, says Mary Colling, in another letter, scarcely an old man or woman in Tavistock but can tell some story or other about your Lady Howard. Some have seen her in the shape of a calf; others as a wool-sack full of eyes, rolling along from Fitz-ford. This story is frequently told of her: Two servant girls, whose sweethearts came one Sunday evening to see them, being informed they intended to get up early the following morning to washing, offered to come to the house, at the hour name, for company. The servants were very glad of this, as the house was so haunted, according to report. The young men, anxious to fulfil their promise, determined to get up early. One heard Tavistock chimes play at twelve o'clock and concluded it was four. He arose, awoke his companion, and they went together to Fitz-ford. When they came there, the doors being open and the fires all lighted, they thought that the servants were gone up stairs to prepare the clothes, &c. They agreed upon playing a trick, and got under the stairs in order to frighten the maids. Soon after they heard footsteps, and, peeping out cautiously, they saw two very large black dogs, with eyes as big as saucers, and fiery tongues, which hung out of their mouths. The young men thought at all vents they had best remain quiet, which they did till cock-crowing; when directly the dogs vanished, the fires went out, and the door instantly closed. Soon after the servants came down stairs, and on hearing this story became so alarmed that they determined to quit Fitz-ford, But on recollecting they were each the first-born of their parents, they felt they were safe; as it is said that no witch, ghost, or pixy can injure the first-born child. They became, therefore, reconciled to the place.

Thus ends Mary Colling's account, and my letter too, having sent quite enough hobgoblins for one packet; and lest the post-office should be troubled, and complain to Sir Francis Freeling if I send more, I will conclude with wishing you may be, my dear Sir, ghost-free all your days, saving from a few visits of Sir Thomas More, the renewal of whose "Colloquies" in the library of Keswick, would be a very desirable event for the public, and in which no individual of that body would feel a greater interest than your

Very gratefully obliged,

And most faithful servant,

ANNA E. BRAY.

TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ.

Vicarage, Tavistock, April 17, 1833

MY DEAR SIR

Having in my former letters presented you with so full an account of Mary Maria Colling, I do not here give any detailed sketch of her remarkable story, though she certainly claims a prominent place in the biography of Tavistock. She is the same modest, graceful,m single-hearted creature that she was before she had the good fortune to be the object of so much kindness and notice both from yourself and other generous friends who felt interest in her little story, and the unassisted efforts she had made to form and cultivate her mind.

Since the publication of her little volume, she has devoted as much time as the duties of her service would admit to her improvement; and I rejoice to tell those who fancied I might do her an injury instead of a benefit by bringing her forward, that the success of her book (and for one in her station of life it was considerable), and the notice it procured for her from so many honourable quarters, have done her no harm whatever; but, I trust, much good. There cannot be a more feeling, affectionate, or humble mind, or a more perfectly natural and engaging character. I am proud to call Mary my friend, and I shall never meet with one more constants or deserving.

I remember you wished to know how she taught her canary bird to talk. I have questioned her on the subject; but I conclude the talking canary must have been a genius, as the same pains she took with him she has latterly bestowed on the successor of his cage, but without the same success. She tells me that the deceased bird was a great favourite, and she, being much alone, used to have him near her whilst engaged in her work. That she would talk to it, and give it bits of bread, sugar, or cake, which it always took very kindly, and would put its bill between the wires, and seem attentive to her. She generally addressed it with the words "Pretty Dick Canary," or "pretty little dear, give us a bit," &c. One day, after she ahd this been fondling it, she left the kitchen, and on her return, whilst engaged in work, she distinctly heard the words - "Pretty little dear." Knowing that no person but herself was in the kitchen, she looked round with astonishment, and the canary again distinctly repeated the same words. She mentioned the circumstance to her worthy master, Mr. Hughes, who said it must be fancy; but he was convinced, by himself hearing the bird speak, that she had stated a fact; and Dick;s talents for talking were soon celebrated amongst Mary's acquaintance and friends. So great was her care of the bird after this discovery, that she used to carry it up at night, and hang the cage not very far from the bed. I have no doubt her care killed the poor canary, for it did not long survive her extreme attention to its comforts. I have somewhere read that the human breath, in a confined atmosphere, will very quickly destroy birds, and Mary's canary may be cited, perhaps, as an example.

The return to herself. After the publication of her volume, as soon as she had received from the subscribers sufficient funds for the purpose, she paid all the expenses incurred in printing, &c. She next erected an inscribed stone in our churchyard to the memory of her beloved grandmother Philp. She made many little presents to "Sister Anne" on her wedding; and, I know, did many other little acts of generosity and bounty that I do not name lest it should be painful to her feeling: all this was done out of the profits of her book and lastly, as a mark of thankfulness to God, whose goodness she always acknowledges in raising up friends to serve her, she put down her name as a yearly subscriber of five shillings to the Church Missionary Society. After all these payments and donations, I believe her own share of what she had gained amounted only to about twenty pounds; since (unless the publishers may have recently received further payments for her) nearly one hundred of her subscribers had not paid for their copies of the work; distance of time and place very probably having made them delay or forget their little debt, which though very small to each individual, becomes, in the aggregate, a serious loss to her.

So much interest did her work awaken for her, that she has had numerous presents of books, &c.; and one sent anonymously with a very handsome letter. Mr. Davies Gilbert was so much pleased with her that he endeavoured to trace out her relations in Sussex. His Grace the Duke of Bedford presented her with ten pounds; and a nobleman, who would not even suffer me to let her or any one else know his name in doing the kind act, was so much interested by reading the account of her in the "Quarterly Review," that he wrote to me, enclosing for her a five pound note; and the bounty of ten rix dollars, presented by a Danish gentleman, who read her work at Copenhagen, you were kind enough to transmit to her. You were also pleased to express your wish to see a reprint of her little volume. I proposed it to Messrs. Longman and Co., and pointed out to them the probability that a second edition, sold as cheap as the first, or even at a lower price, if they wished it, would be certain to meet with a sale. But for pressure of business, I conclude, and having little time to devote to works on so small a scale, they declined it, though they handsomely admitted the merit of Mary's book, and the very favourable impression it had made wherever it was known. As Messrs. Longman had declined reprinting it, Mr. Hughes did the same; and Mary, with her small fund, could not herself venture upon the undertaking; and so, to this hour, the work has, I know, been frequently inquired for in London, and not a copy can be there procured; Mary had a few, however, reserved here, but even they are nearly exhausted*.

* Should this page meet the eye of a London bookseller, or publisher elsewhere, who might feel disposed to reprint Mary Colling's little volume, I can only say I should be most happy to superintend the printing, &c., once more, and to add some few things of interest to the new edition. There would be no expense incurred for engraving the portrait again, as have the plate in good condition. I have no doubt the reprint would sell; and such is the opinion of Mr. Southey, and of every literate person to whom I have yet spoken on the subject.

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