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Title: Cornish Characters - and Strange Events
Author: Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine), 1834-1924
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Cornish Characters - and Strange Events" ***

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                           CORNISH CHARACTERS
                           AND STRANGE EVENTS

                           BY THE SAME AUTHOR

                        UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

                         DEVONSHIRE CHARACTERS
                           AND STRANGE EVENTS

                    With 55 Full-page Illustrations
                    Reproduced from Old Prints, etc.



                           AND STRANGE EVENTS

                        BY S. BARING-GOULD, M.A.

                    WITH 62 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
                    REPRODUCED FROM OLD PRINTS, ETC.

                    [Illustration: ONE · AND · ALL]

                                   "We all are men,
                 In our own natures frail, and capable
                 Of our flesh; few are angels."
                               HENRY VIII (Act V, Sc. 2).




Cornwall, peopled mainly by Celts, but with an infusion of English
blood, stands and always has stood apart from the rest of England,
much, but in a less degree, as has Wales. That which brought it into
more intimate association with English thought, interests, and
progress was the loss of the old Cornish tongue.

The isolation in which Cornwall had stood has tended to develop in it
much originality of character; and the wildness of the coast has bred
a hardy race of seamen and smugglers; the mineral wealth, moreover,
drew thousands of men underground, and the underground life of the
mines has a peculiar effect on mind and character: it is cramping in
many ways, but it tends to develop a good deal of religious
enthusiasm, that occasionally breaks forth in wild forms of
fanaticism. Cornwall has produced admirable sailors, men who have won
deathless renown in warfare at sea, as "Old Dreadnought" Boscawen,
Pellew, Lord Exmouth, etc., and daring and adventurous smugglers, like
"The King of Prussia," who combined great religious fervour with
entire absence of scruple in the matter of defrauding the king's
revenue. It has produced men of science who have made for themselves a
world-fame, as Adams the astronomer, and Sir Humphry Davy the
chemist; men who have been benefactors to their race, as Henry
Trengrouse, Sir Goldsworthy Gurney, and Trevithick. It has sent forth
at least one notable painter, the miner's boy Opie, and a dramatist,
Samuel Foote, and a great singer in his day, Incledon. But it has not
given to literature a great poet. Minor rhymes have been produced in
great quantities, but none of great worth. Philosophers have issued
from the mines, as Samuel Drew, eccentrics many, as Sir James Tillie,
John Knill, and Daniel Gumb. And Cornwall has contributed a certain
number of rascals--but fewer in number than almost any other county,
if we exclude wreckers and smugglers from the catalogue of rascality.

Strange superstitions have lingered on, and one very curious story of
a girl fed for years by fairies has been put on record.

It is somewhat remarkable that Cornwall has produced no musical genius
of any note; and yet the Cornishman is akin to the Welshman and the

Cornwall has certainly sent up to London and Westminster very able
politicians, as Godolphin, Sir William Molesworth, and Sir John Eliot.
It furnished Tyburn with a victim--Hugh Peters, the chaplain of Oliver
Cromwell, a strange mixture of money-grasping, enthusiasm, and humour.

It has been the object of the author, not to retell the lives of the
greatest of the sons of Cornwall, for these lives may be read in the
_Dictionary of National Biography_, but to chronicle the stories of
lesser luminaries concerning whom less is known and little is easily
accessible. In this way it serves as a companion volume to
_Devonshire Characters_; and Cornwall in no particular falls short of
Devonshire in the variety of characters it has sent forth, nor are
their stories of less interest.

The author and publisher have to thank many for kind help: Mr. Percy
Bate, Mr. T. R. Bolitho, Rev. A. T. Boscawen, Mr. J. A. Bridger, Mr.
T. Walter Brimacombe, Mr. A. M. Broadley, Mr. R. P. Chope, Mr. Digby
Collins, Mr. J. B. Cornish, Mrs. Coryton of Pentillie Castle, Miss
Loveday E. Drake, Mr. E. H. W. Dunkin, F.S.A., Mr. J. D. Enys of Enys,
the Rev. Wm. Iago, Mrs. H. Forbes Julian, Mrs. de Lacy Lacy, the Rev.
A. H. Malan, Mr. Lewis Melville, Mr. A. H. Norway, Captain Rogers of
Penrose, Mr. Thomas Seccombe, Mr. Henry Trengrouse, Mr. W. H. K.
Wright, and Mr. Henry Young of Liverpool--and last, but not least,
Miss Windeatt Roberts for her admirable Index to the volume.

The publisher wishes me to say that he would much like to discover the
whereabouts of a full-length portrait of Sir John Call, with a view of
Bodmin Gaol in the background.

                                                    S. BARING-GOULD.



  WILLIAM PENGELLY, GEOLOGIST                                       1

  SIR CHARLES WILLS, K.B.                                          12

  LIEUTENANT GOLDSMITH AND THE LOGAN ROCK                          18

  HUGH PETERS, THE REGICIDE                                        26

  JAMES POLKINGHORNE, THE WRESTLER                                 54

  HENRY TRENGROUSE, INVENTOR                                       59

  THE BOTATHAN GHOST                                               72

  JOHN COUCH ADAMS, ASTRONOMER                                     83

  DANIEL GUMB                                                      91

  LAURENCE BRADDON                                                 96

  THOMASINE BONAVENTURA                                           108

  THE MURDER OF NEVILL NORWAY                                     117

  SIR WILLIAM LOWER, KNT.                                         126

  THE PIRATES AT PENZANCE                                         130

  DAME KILLIGREW                                                  133

  TWO NATURALISTS IN CORNWALL                                     141
      John Ralfs
      George Carter Bignell

  SIR JOHN CALL, BART.                                            154

  JOHN KNILL                                                      169

  THOMAS TREGOSS                                                  176

  ANTHONY PAYNE                                                   181

  NEVIL NORTHEY BURNARD                                           186

  SIR GOLDSWORTHY GURNEY, KNT., INVENTOR                          192

  THE JANES                                                       206

  THE PENNINGTONS                                                 222

  DOCTOR GLYNN-CLOBERY                                            228

  THREE MEN OF MOUSEHOLE                                          232

  DOLLY PENTREATH                                                 238

  ROBERT JEFFERY OF POLPERRO                                      247

  ADMIRAL RICHARD DARTON THOMAS                                   258

  COMMANDER JOHN POLLARD                                          269

  THE CASE OF BOSAVERN PENLEZ                                     270

  SAMUEL FOOTE                                                    280

  THE LAST LORD MOHUN                                             298

  THE LAST LORD CAMELFORD                                         318

  WILLIAM NOYE                                                    329

  WILLIAM LEMON                                                   342

  SAMUEL DREW                                                     346

  THE SIEGE OF SKEWIS                                             364

  THE VOYAGE OF JOHN SANDS                                        370

  CHARLES INCLEDON                                                375

  THE MURDER OF RICHARD CORYTON                                   388

  SIR JAMES TILLIE, KNT.                                          399

  LIEUTENANT JOHN HAWKEY                                          408

  DR. DANIEL LOMBARD                                              424

  THE DREAM OF MR. WILLIAMS                                       427

  SIR ROBERT TRESILIAN                                            432

  PIRATE TRELAWNY                                                 441

  JAMES SILK BUCKINGHAM                                           455

  MARY ANN DAVENPORT, ACTRESS                                     466

  THE ROYAL FAMILY OF PRUSSIA                                     470

  CAPTAIN RICHARD KEIGWIN                                         479

  THE LOSS OF THE "KENT"                                          489

  VICE-ADMIRAL SIR CHARLES V. PENROSE                             500

  SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS, BART.                                  515

  ANNE JEFFERIES                                                  531

  THOMAS KILLIGREW, THE KING'S JESTER                             544

  NICOLAS ROSCARROCK                                              554

  LIEUTENANT PHILIP G. KING                                       559

  HICKS OF BODMIN                                                 569

  CAPTAIN TOBIAS MARTIN                                           579

  THE MAYOR OF BODMIN                                             586


  THE BOHELLAND TRAGEDY                                           614

  MARY KELYNACK                                                   620

  CAPTAIN WILLIAM ROGERS                                          623

  JOHN BURTON OF FALMOUTH                                         627

  THE FATE OF SIR CLOUDESLEY SHOVEL                               637

  FRANCIS TREGIAN                                                 652

  ANN GLANVILLE                                                   663

  JONATHAN SIMPSON, HIGHWAYMAN                                    670

  DAVIES GILBERT                                                  675

  JAMES HOSKIN, FARMER                                            682

  JOHN HARRIS, THE MINER POET                                     692

  EDWARD CHAPMAN                                                  701

  JOHN COKE OF TRERICE                                            704

  THOMAS PELLOW OF PENRYN                                         707

  THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBARTES FAMILY                               718

  THEODORE PALEOLOGUS                                             727


  THOMAS PITT, LORD CAMELFORD                          _Frontispiece_

                                                         TO FACE PAGE

  WILLIAM PENGELLY                                                  2

    From a painting by A. S. Cope, reproduced by permission of Mrs. H.
    Forbes Julian

  LIEUTENANT-GENERAL SIR CHARLES WILLS                             12

    From an engraving by Simon, after a picture by M. Dahl

     IN CORNWALL                                                   18

    Taken after the Rock was displaced on the 8th of April, 1824. From
    a lithograph by Vibert, after a drawing by Tonkin

     LOGAN ROCK                                                    22

    From a lithograph by Vibert, after a drawing by Tonkin

  HUGH PETERS                                                      26

    From an old engraving


    From a drawing as he appeared in the Ring at Devonport on Monday,
    23 October, 1826, when he threw Aḇͫ. Cann, the Champion of
    Devonshire, for a stake of 200 sovereigns

     FOR SAVING LIFE AT SEA                                        60

    From an oil painting by Opie the younger, reproduced by permission
    of Mr. H. Trengrouse

  THE WRECK OF THE "ANSON"                                         66

    From a sketch by Mr. H. Trengrouse

  "PARSON RUDALL"                                                  72

    From a painting in the possession of the Rev. S. Baring-Gould

  JOHN COUCH ADAMS                                                 84

    From a mezzotint by Samuel Cousins, A.R.A., after a picture by
    Thomas Mogford. From the collection of Mrs. Lewis Lane

  JOHN COUCH ADAMS                                                 88

  THE CHEESE-WRING                                                 92

    From an etching by Letitia Byrne, after a drawing by J. Farington,

  NEVILL NORWAY                                                   118

    From a painting in the possession of Miss A. T. Norway

  SIR WILLIAM LOWER                                               126

  THE KILLYGREW CUP                                               134
                                             JANE KILLYGREW

    This cup has been recently valued at the sum of £4000. It measures
    just two feet in height

  GEORGE CARTER BIGNELL                                           142

    From a photograph

  JOHN RALFS                                                      146

    Reproduced by permission of Miss Loveday E. Drake

  SIR JOHN CALL, BART.                                            154

    From a portrait (by A. Hickle) in the possession of his
    great-granddaughter, Mrs. de Lacy Lacy

  WHITEFORD--THE RESIDENCE OF SIR JOHN CALL                       164

    From a drawing in the possession of Mrs. de Lacy Lacy

  JOHN KNILL                                                      170

    After a picture by Opie in the possession of Captain Rogers, of

     COMMANDER"                                                   172

    From the collection of Percy Bate, Esq., of Glasgow

  ANTHONY PAYNE                                                   182

    From a painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller, purchased by Sir Robert
    Harvey, High Sheriff of Cornwall, 1901, and presented to the
    Institute of Cornwall

  NEVIL NORTHEY BURNARD                                           186

    From a bas-relief by the sculptor himself, in the possession of S.
    Pearn, Esq., Altarnon

     ALTARNON. Cut by Burnard when 16 years of age                188

  TOMBSTONES CUT BY BURNARD                                       188

    That on the right is upon the grave of his grandfather in Altarnon
    Churchyard, and was cut when the sculptor was only 14 years old;
    the one on the left is in Bodmin Churchyard

  TOMBSTONES IN ALTARNON CHURCHYARD. Cut by Burnard               190

  SIR GOLDSWORTHY GURNEY                                          192

    From a lithograph by W. Sharp, after a drawing by S. C. Smith


    From a drawing by R. Scadden

  MONSCHOLE, IN MOUNT'S BAY, FROM THE ISLAND                      238

    From a drawing by Captain Tremenhere

  SAMUEL FOOTE                                                    280

  THE LAST LORD MOHUN                                             298

    From a mezzotint by I. Faber, after a picture by Sir Godfrey


    From a contemporary mezzotint in the British Museum

     FIRST                                                        330

  SIR WILLIAM LEMON, BART., M.P. FOR CORNWALL                     342

    From an engraving by J. H. Meyer

  SAMUEL DREW                                                     346

    From an engraving by R. Hicks, after a painting by F. Moore

  HENRY ROGERS, PEWTERER                                          364

  CHARLES INCLEDON, AS MACHEATH                                   376

    From an engraving by J. Thomson, after a painting by Singleton

  SIR JAMES TILLIE, KNT.                                          400

  SIR JAMES TILLIE'S MONUMENT AT PENTILLIE                        406

  EDWARD JOHN TRELAWNY                                            442

    From a drawing by D. Lucas

  JAMES SILK BUCKINGHAM                                           456


    From an engraving by Ridley, after a picture by De Wilde


    From a drawing in the possession of J. B. Cornish, Esq.


    From a photograph by Gibson & Sons, Penzance

  VICE-ADMIRAL SIR CHARLES V. PENROSE, K.C.B.                     500

    From a picture by Allingham

     CHARLES THE SECOND                                           544

    From an engraving by I. Vander vaart, after a picture by W.

  LIEUTENANT PHILIP GIDLEY KING                                   560

    From an engraving by W. Skelton, after a drawing by J. Wright

  WILLIAM R. HICKS                                                570

  WILLIAM R. HICKS OF BODMIN                                      576

    From a Caricature

     MAY 31ST, 1838.                                              594

     AS HE APPEARED AT THE ELECTION IN 1832                       608

  MARY KELYNACK                                                   620

  CAPTAIN W. ROGERS                                               624

    From an engraving by Ridley and Blood, after a picture by Drummond

  JOHN BURTON OF FALMOUTH                                         628

  SIR CLOUDESLEY SHOVEL                                           638

  ANN GLANVILLE                                                   664

  DAVIES GILBERT                                                  676

    From a mezzotint by Samuel Cousins, A.R.A., after a picture by
    Henry Howard, R.A. From the collection of Mrs. Lewis Lane

  JOHN HARRIS, THE MINER POET                                     692

     TRURO                                                        718

    After Sir Godfrey Kneller

  MEMORIAL BRASS IN THE CHURCH OF LANDULPH.                       728

    Reproduced by permission of E. H. W. Dunkin, Esq., F.S.A., from
    his book on Cornish Brasses

                           CORNISH CHARACTERS
                           AND STRANGE EVENTS

                           AND STRANGE EVENTS

                      WILLIAM PENGELLY, GEOLOGIST

William Pengelly was born at East Looe on January 12th, 1812, and was
the son of the captain of a small coasting vessel and nephew of a
notorious smuggler. The Pengellys had, in fact, been connected with
the sea for several generations. His mother was a Prout of the same
family as the famous water-colour artist.

As a child his career was almost cut short by fire. An aunt came to
stay with the Pengellys, arriving a day before she was expected. Early
on the following morning, when sitting in her bedroom window, wrapped
in a thick woollen shawl, she saw her little nephew William rush out
of the house enveloped in flames. She hurried after him, and managed
to smother the fire with her woollen garment, and thus saved the
child's life, though she was herself so badly burnt that she carried
the scars to her dying day. The little boy had risen early, and had
kindled a fire so that he might go on with his lessons before any one
else was astir in the house, with the result that he set light to his
clothes, and except for the premature arrival of his aunt, must
certainly have been burnt to death.

At the age of twelve he went to sea. He says:--

"Our voyages were short. I do not remember an instance of being at sea
more than three consecutive days; so that, except when windbound, we
were almost always taking in or taking out cargo. The work was hard,
but the food was abundant, and on the whole the life, though rough,
was not unpleasant.

"To me--thinking nothing of the pecuniary aspects of the question--the
most enjoyable occasions were those which fierce contrary winds brought
us, when we had to seek some harbour of refuge. These were by no means
necessarily holidays, for, if the weather were dry, advantage was taken
of the enforced leisure to give our craft a thorough cleaning, or to
repair her rigging, or to make up the books. Moreover, the crew employed
me to write letters to their wives from their dictation. These epistles
were generally of a remarkable character, and some of them remain firmly
fixed in my memory. The foregoing labours disposed of, and foul winds
still prevailing, we had a washing day, or, better than all, a bout of
tailoring, which did not generally get beyond repairing, though
occasionally the ambitious flight of making a pair of trousers was
attempted. On tailoring days it was understood that my clothes should be
repaired for me, in order that I might read aloud for the general
benefit. We assembled in our little cabin, where the stitching and
smoking went on simultaneously, and with great vigour. My poor library
consisted of a Bible, the eighth volume of the _Spectator_, Johnson's
_English Dictionary_, a volume of the _Weekly Miscellany_, the _History
of John Gilpin_, _Baron Munchausen's Travels_, Walkinghame's
_Arithmetic_, and a book of songs. My hearers were not very fastidious,
but allowed me to read pretty much what I pleased, though, truth to
tell, the _Spectator_ was not a favourite; some portions of it were held
to be nonsensical, and others were considered to be so lacking in
truthfulness that it was generally termed the 'lying book.' This ill
repute was largely due to the story of Fadlallah (No. 578). Walkinghame
was by no means unpopular. I occasionally read some of the questions,
and my shipmates endeavoured to solve them mentally; and as the answers
were all given by the author, I had to declare who had made the nearest
guess, for it was very often but little more. Of all the questions, none
excited so much interest as that which asks, What will be the cost of
shoeing a horse at a farthing for the first nail, two for the second,
and so on in geometrical progression for thirty-two nails, and which
gives for the answer a sum but little short of four and a half million
pounds sterling. This was so utterly unexpected that it went far to
confer on Walkinghame the same name that Fadlallah had given to the

[Illustration: A. S. Cope, pinxt.

_Reproduced by permission of Mrs. H. Forbes Julian_]

William Pengelly tells a curious story of his father, Richard

"After completing his fifteenth year he was thinking of going to sea.
When he was sixteen, his father, who was a sailor, was drowned almost
within sight of his home. The effect on the boy was to make him pause,
and on his friends, to urge him to give up the idea. For some months
these influences kept him quiet, but at length his restlessness
returned so strongly, that he would have gone to sea at once, had he
felt satisfied that his father would have approved the step. To
ascertain this point he prayed frequently and earnestly that his
father's spirit might be allowed to appear to him, with a pleasing or
frowning aspect, according as he might approve or disapprove. At
length he believed his prayer to have been answered, and that when in
the field ploughing he saw his father, who passed by looking intently
and smilingly at him. This decided him. He became a sailor at
seventeen, and as such died at a good old age."

One bitterly cold night at sea, young Pengelly and some other of his
shipmates having closed the cabin door, lit a charcoal fire, and
speedily fell asleep, succumbing to the fumes of carbonic acid.
Happily one of the crew who had been on deck entered the cabin. He
found the greatest difficulty in awakening his comrades to sufficient
consciousness to enable them to stumble up the ladder to get a breath
of fresh air, for their sleep had well-nigh become that of death. The
strong and hardy seamen soon recovered, but the boy was so seriously
affected that, long after he had been carried upon deck, he could not
be roused, and was only restored to consciousness by means of
prolonged exertions on the part of his shipmates. His earliest
geological experience was made when a sailor-boy weather-bound on the
Dorsetshire coast, and he was wont to relate it thus:--

"I received my first lesson in geology at Lyme Regis, very soon after
I had entered my teens. A labourer, whom I was observing, accidentally
broke a large stone of blue lias and thus disclosed a fine ammonite
--the first fossil of any kind that I had ever seen or heard of.

"In reply to my exclamation, 'What's that?' the workman said, with a
sneer, 'If you had read your Bible you'd know what 'tis.' 'I _have_
read my Bible. But what has that to do with it?'

"'In the Bible we're told there was once a flood that covered all the
world. At that time all the rocks were mud, and the different things
that were drowned were buried in it, and there's a snake that was
buried that way. There are lots of 'em, and other things besides, in
the rocks and stones hereabouts.'

"'A snake! But where's his head?'

"'You must read the Bible, I tell 'ee, and then you'll find out why
'tis that some of the snakes in the rocks ain't got no heads. We're
told there, that the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's
head, that's how 'tis.'"

When in his sixteenth year William Pengelly lost his younger brother,
and after that his mother would not suffer him to go to sea. Some
years were spent at Looe in self-education.

While still quite young he was induced by a relative of his mother to
settle at Torquay, at that time a small place, but rapidly growing and
attracting residents to it. Here he opened a small day-school on the
Pestalozzian system, and was one of the first to introduce the use of
the blackboard and chalk. The school opened with six scholars, but
rapidly increased to about seventy.

It was now that scientific studies began to occupy Pengelly's
attention, and above all, geology.

In 1837 he married Mary Anne Mudge, whose health was always delicate.

Little by little his renown as a geologist spread, and he did not
confine himself to the deposits in Devonshire, but travelled to
Scotland and elsewhere to examine the rocks, and to meet and consult
with eminent scientists.

In 1846 his private pupils had grown so numerous that he was able to
give up his school altogether and become a tutor of mathematics and
the natural sciences. He tells a very amusing story of a visit made
during holiday time to an old friend.

"I one day learned that my road lay within a couple of miles of the
rectory of my old mathematical friend D----. We had been great friends
when he was a curate in a distant part of the country, but had not met
for several years, during which he had been advanced from a curacy of
about £80 to a rectory of £200 per year, and a residence, in a very
secluded district. My time was very short, but for 'auld lang syne' I
decided to sacrifice a few hours. On reaching the house Mr. and Mrs.
D---- were fortunately at home, and received me with their wonted

"The salutations were barely over, when I said--

"'It is now six o'clock; I must reach Wellington tonight, and as it is
said to be fully eight miles off, and I am utterly unacquainted with
the road, and with the town when I reach it, I cannot remain with you
one minute after eight o'clock.'

"'Oh, very well,' said D----, 'then we must improve the shining hour.
Jane, my dear, be so good as to order tea.'

"Having said this he left the room. In a few minutes he returned with
a book under his arm and his hands filled with writing materials,
which he placed on the table. Opening the book, he said--

"'This is Hind's _Trigonometry_, and here's a lot of examples for
practice. Let us see which can do the greatest number of them by eight
o'clock. I did most of them many years ago, but I have not looked at
them since. Suppose we begin at this one'--which he pointed out--'and
take them as they come. We can drink our tea as we work, so as to lose
no time.'

"'All right,' said I; though it was certainly not the object for which
I had come out of my road.

"Accordingly we set to work. No words passed between us; the servant
brought in the tray, Mrs. D---- handed us our tea, which we drank now
and then, and the time flew on rapidly. At length, finding it to be a
quarter to eight--

"'We must stop,' said I, 'for in a quarter of an hour I must be on my

"'Very well. Let us see how our answers agree with those of the author.'

"It proved that he had correctly solved one more than I had. This
point settled, I said 'Good-bye.'

"'Good-bye. Do come again as soon as you can. The farmers know nothing
whatever about Trigonometry.'

"We parted at the rectory door, and have never met since; nor shall we
ever do so more, as his decease occurred several years ago. During my
long walk to Wellington my mind was chiefly occupied with the mental
isolation of a rural clergyman."

In 1851 he lost his wife, and some years after both his children by her.

In 1853 he married a Lydia Spriggs, a Quakeress.

William Pengelly's scientific explorations may be divided under three
heads. The first was his minute and accurate examination of the
deposits that form Bovey Heathfield, where there are layers of clay,
sand, and lignite. He was able to extract numerous fossil plants, and
thereby to determine the approximate age of the beds.

Next he took up the exploration of ossiferous caves; and he began this
work with that of Brixham, in Windmill Hill.

The floor of this cavern was excavated in successive stages or layers,
starting from the entrance. Bones were found in the stalagmite and in
the first, third, and fourth beds, and worked flints in the third and
fourth beds only; but where the third bed filled the cavern up to the
rock, its upper portion contained neither bones nor flints. The bones
were those of the mammoth, the rhinoceros, the urus, hyæna, cave lion
and cave bear, etc.

But by far the most laborious scientific undertaking of Pengelly's
life was the exploration of Kent's Cavern, near Torquay. This cave was
known as far back as 1824, when a Mr. Northmore, of Cleve, near
Exeter, made a superficial examination of it to ascertain whether it
had been a temple of Mithras, and quite satisfied himself on this
point. He was followed by Sir W. C. Trevelyan and by the Rev. J.
MacEnery. But it was not till 1865 that a complete, scientific, and
exhaustive exploration was undertaken by the British Association,
which made a grant of £100 for the purpose. Mr. Pengelly was appointed
secretary and reporter to the committee for the examination of the
cave and its deposits.

It was found that the floor of the cave exhibited the following
succession: (1) Blocks of limestone sometimes large, clearly fallen
from the roof. (2) A layer of black mould ranging from a few inches to
upwards of a foot in depth. (3) Beneath this came a floor of granular
stalagmite, about a foot in thickness, formed by the drip of water
from the roof. (4) A red loam containing a number of limestone
fragments. (5) A breccia of angular fragments of limestone and pebbles
and sandstone embedded in a reddish sandy calcareous paste.

On June 19th, 1880, the exploration of Kent's Hole was brought to an
end. It was the most complete and systematic investigation of a cavern
that had ever been undertaken, and on a much greater scale than that
at Brixham. A task of this kind is peculiarly exacting. It cannot be
entrusted to workmen; it cannot be left to a committee whose members
pay but intermittent visits: it demands the constant oversight of one
man; and this superintendence was given to Pengelly. The total amount
spent on this exploration was £2000. Pengelly states in one of his
papers that in the fifteen and a quarter years during which the
excavation was in progress he visited Kent's Hole almost daily, and
spent over the work, on an average, five hours a day.

"Above the stalagmite, and principally in the black mould, have been
found a number of relics belonging to different periods, such as
socketed celts, and a socketed knife of bronze, and some small fragments
of roughly smelted copper, about four hundred flint flakes, cores, and
chips, a polishing stone, a ring (made of Kimmeridge clay), numerous
spindle whorls, bone instruments terminating in comb-like ends, pottery,
marine shells, numerous mammalian bones of existing species, and some
human bones, on which it has been thought there are traces indicative of
cannibalism. Some of the pottery is distinctly Roman in character; but
many of the objects belong, no doubt, to pre-Roman times."

What was found beneath the stalagmite belonged to a long anterior
period, where it had lain sealed up for, at the very least, two thousand
years. In this deposit of the cave earth were found a large number of
chips, flakes, and implements of flint and chert, stones that had served
as pounders, and some pins, needles, and harpoons of bone.

Some mammoth bones were found in Kent's Cavern, and those of the cave
lion, the sabre-toothed tiger, the glutton, cave bear, woolly
rhinoceros, horse, reindeer, and beaver.

Mr. W. Pengelly died on March 17th, 1894.

A writer in the _Transactions of the Devonshire Association_ for 1894
says: "For science he lived, and for science he laboured, even long
after the age when the average man seeks rest and quiet. Starting out in
original lines of thought, and untrammelled by traditions of years long
ago, he met with many rebuffs, and the conclusions which he derived from
his investigations and minute and patient inquiry were almost laughed to
scorn. But he adhered to his work and clung to his beliefs, with
enthusiastic devotion, and in the end he lived to see even those who had
originally stoutly opposed his views convinced of their verity, and
their inestimable value to archæological and geological science."

Pengelly himself left this piece of advice to the student:--

"Be careful in scientific inquiries that you get a sufficient number
of perfectly trustworthy facts; that you interpret them with the aid
of a rigorous logic; that on suitable occasions you have courage
enough to avow your convictions; and don't be impatient, or annoyed,
if your friends don't receive all your conclusions, or even if they
call you bad names."

It must be remembered that Pengelly and Sir Charles Lyell were those
who startled English minds with the revelation of the enormous period
of time in which man had lived on the earth, and of the slow
progression of man through vast ages in the development of
civilization. How that he began with the rudest flint implements, and
progressed but very slowly to the perfection of these stone tools; how
that only in comparatively recent times did he discover the use of
metals and pottery; how of metals he first employed bronze, and not
till long after acquired the art of smelting iron and fashioning tools
and weapons of iron. All this startled the world, and men were very
unwilling to accept the doctrine propounded and to acknowledge the
facts on which this doctrine was based.

The _Life of William Pengelly_ was written by his daughter Hester
Pengelly, and published by Murray, 1897. Reference has been made as
well to the obituary notice in the _Transactions of the Devonshire
Association_ for 1894.

                        SIR CHARLES WILLS, K.B.

Sir Charles Wills belonged to a very ancient and widely ramified family
in Cornwall. The first, however, of whom anything authentic is known was
Anthony Wills, of Saltash, who died in 1576. They were settled at
Landrake, at Morval, Botusfleming, Wyvelscombe, Exeter, and Gorran.

Anthony Wills, of Gorran, youngest son of Digory Wills, of Botusfleming,
had a son, Anthony Wills, who was the father of the Right Hon. Sir
Charles Wills, K.B., general of His Majesty's forces, baptized at Gorran
23rd October, 1666. Sir Charles had two brothers, Richard, of Acombe, in
the county of York, and Anthony, of the Inner Temple, who died in
Ireland 1689. The arms of the family are, _arg_. three griffins passant,
in pale, _sa._, within a bordure engrailed of the last _besantée_.

Sir Charles was a subaltern in 1693, when serving in the Low Countries
under William III. The King went to Holland at the end of March in that
year, and returned on the last day of October, when the armies went into
winter quarters. Wills was in the battle of Landen and at the siege of
Namur. On the 13th October, 1705, he was appointed colonel of the 30th
Regiment, and sailed with it to Spain. He acted as quartermaster-general
to the troops in that country, was present at Llenda, Almanza, and
Saragossa, and was made prisoner in 1711 with the army under General
Stanhope, but was released at the end of the war.

[Illustration: _Lieutenant General Wills Commander of his Maj.^{ties}
Forces in the Action against the Rebells at Preston in Lancashire._]

He had been appointed brigadier-general in 1707, major-general on 1st
January, 1709, and lieutenant-general 16th November, 1710. After the
peace of 1715, being in command of the troops in the Midland district,
he marched northwards to meet the rebels from Scotland, and he and
General Carpenter met them at Preston. Preston was a town both Jacobite
and Roman Catholic; and in it was the army of the Pretender, composed of
Scottish Highlanders and Lancashire gentry and their retainers.

General Carpenter, who had been marching into Scotland, turned back
into Northumberland, and by forced marches had reached Durham, where
he combined with General Wills, who had been sent some time before
into the north to quell the many riots that preluded the insurrection.

Wills concentrated six regiments of cavalry, for the most part newly
raised, but commanded by experienced officers, at Manchester, whence
he moved to Wigan. There it was arranged that Wills should march
straight upon Preston, while Carpenter, advancing in another
direction, should take the insurgents in flank. As the Hanoverians
approached, General Forster, who commanded the Jacobites, gave
satisfactory evidence that he was no soldier; he fell into a fright
and confusion, and betook himself to bed. But Lord Kenmure roused him,
and in a hurried council, where all the gentlemen had a voice, and
where those spoke loudest who knew least of war, a plan of defending
Preston was adopted. But the plan, at least as executed, consisted
merely in throwing up some barricades in the streets and in posting
some men in defence of them. Brigadier Mackintosh either knew not the
ground or his better judgment was overruled; for Preston offered many
advantages as a defensive position which were altogether neglected. In
front of the town was a bridge over the Ribble, that might have been
held by a handful of men, and from the bridge to the town, for a
distance of a mile, the road ran through a hollow between steep banks
for a mile. But river, bridge, and road were all left undefended. When
Wills rode up to the bridge and saw that it was unprotected he could
hardly believe his eyes; and then he concluded that the insurgents
must have abandoned Preston and begun their retreat into Scotland, so
that there would be no fighting that day.

But as he came to the outskirts of the town, he heard a tumultuous
noise within, and saw the barricades that Forster had thrown up, and
was saluted by a shower of bullets. He ordered his dragoons to
dismount and attack two of the barricades. This service was gallantly
performed; but the regulars were sorely galled by a fire from the
houses as well as from the barricades.

As night was falling Wills withdrew his men, after they had suffered
considerable loss. Early on the following morning General Carpenter
came up with a part of his cavalry; and then Forster, who had scarcely
lost a man, and whose force more than doubled that of the regular
troops, lost heart entirely, and without consulting his friends, sent
Colonel Oxburgh to propose a capitulation.

General Wills, irritated at the loss he had sustained on the preceding
evening, seemed at first disposed to reject the proposition altogether;
but at last he agreed "that, if the rebels would lay down their arms and
surrender at discretion, he would protect them from being cut to pieces
by the soldiers, until further orders from the Government."

When Oxburgh's mission was known in the town, and the result of it,
the more warlike portion of the insurgents were indignant and railed
against the coward Forster; and so incensed were they against him
that, according to an eye-witness, if he had ventured into the street,
he would infallibly have been torn to pieces.

The brave Highlanders, seeing that nothing was to be expected from the
Lancastrian boors who had joined them, proposed rushing with sword in
hand and cutting their way through the King's troops. But their
leaders thought this too hazardous a proceeding and counselled
surrender. They gave up Lord Derwentwater and Colonel Mackintosh as
hostages, and induced the clans to lay down their arms and submit.
Including English and Scotch, only seventeen men had been killed in
the defence of Preston.

The Lancastrian peasants got away out of the town, but fourteen
hundred men were made prisoners by a thousand, or at the outside
twelve hundred English horse. Among those captured were Lords
Derwentwater, Widdrington, Nithsdale, Winton, Carnwark, Kenmure,
Nairn, and Charles Murray. There were others, members of ancient and
honourable families of the north, of Scotland, and of Lancashire.

The invasion of England by the Jacobites had thus ended ingloriously.
The noblemen and gentlemen of rank and influence who were taken were
sent to London in charge of Brigadier Panter and a hundred men of
Lumley's Horse.

On January 5th, 1716, Wills was appointed to the colonelcy of the 3rd
Regiment of the line, and on the death of Lord Cadogan was transferred
in August, 1726, to that of the 1st Regiment of Foot Guards.

It was customary at all times for the King's company of the 1st
Guards to fly the Royal Standard, which was carried by that company on
all state occasions. It was of crimson silk throughout, with the
King's cypher and crown in the middle and the arms of the three
kingdoms quartered in the four corners. The staff of this standard was
also more ornamented than that of the other twenty-seven companies.
The lieutenant-colonel's colours were also of crimson silk throughout.
These colours were renewed every seven years.

In 1723 the King went to Hanover, when a camp was formed in Hyde Park
under the command of Lieut.-Colonel Wills. He had been elected M.P.
for Totnes in 1714, and he represented that borough till 1741. In 1725
he was made Knight of the Bath and Privy Councillor.

In 1733, in consequence of the increase of smuggling carried on even
in London, Strickland, Secretary for War, addressed a letter in the
form of a warrant to the Governor of the Tower and to the officers in
command of the Guards, authorizing them to furnish detachments of men
to assist in securing contraband goods; and in consequence of the
increase of the duties to be performed by the men of the Foot Guards,
their establishment was raised in 1739 by ten men per company.

In 1740, as the political horizon on the Continent was threatening,
Walpole had to choose between declaring war with Spain and resigning. He
disapproved of war, but rather than resign declared it. The people of
London were delighted and rang the bells in the steeples. "Ah!" said
Walpole; "they are ringing the bells now; they soon will be wringing
their hands." Camps, in anticipation of hostilities, were ordered to be
formed in various parts of England. In March orders were conveyed to Sir
Charles Wills and others to direct their officers to provide themselves
with tents and everything needful for encamping, and those troops under
Sir Charles were to occupy Hounslow. He superintended the formation of
the camp where the whole of the Horse and Foot Guards were to assemble,
and previous to departing they paraded in Hyde Park, on June 15th, under
Sir Charles, who had a lieutenant-general and a major-general on the
staff with him. Thence he proceeded to the encampment on the Heath
marked out for the purpose.

The twenty-four companies of the 1st Guards under the command of
Colonel Richard Ingoldsby, second major of the regiment, remained
encamped on Hounslow from June 16th for several months--in fact, till
the middle of October.

Sir Charles Wills was now filling the post of General Commander of the
King's forces, but had been failing in health and strength, and soon
became quite unable to take any active work; and he died on December
25th, Christmas Day, 1741, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

He had never been married. He had purchased land at Claxton, and this
and all he had he bequeathed to Field-Marshal Sir Robert Rich, Bart.,
of Roxhill, in Suffolk, Governor of Chelsea Hospital.

                      LIEUTENANT GOLDSMITH AND THE
                               LOGAN ROCK

In the parish of S. Levan is a promontory running out into the sea,
once cut off by embankments on the land side, and converted into a
cliff castle, that bears the name of Trereen-Dinas. The headland
presents a succession of natural piles of granite tors, the first of
which, rising perpendicularly, is crowned by the far-famed Logan Rock,
a mass weighing about ninety tons, and so exactly poised upon one
point that any one, by applying his shoulder to it, could make the
whole mass rock sensibly. Not only so, but in a high wind it could be
seen rolling on its pivot.

Doctor Borlase, in his _Antiquities of Cornwall_, 1754, says: "In the
parish of S. Levan, Cornwall, there is a promontory called Castle
Treryn. This cape consists of three distinct groupes of rocks. On the
western side of the middle groupe, near the top, lies a very large
stone, so evenly poised, that any hand may move it to and fro; but the
extremities of its base are at such a distance from each other, and so
well secured by their nearness to the stone which it stretches itself
upon, that it is morally impossible that any lever, or indeed force
(however applied in a mechanical way), can remove it from its present

This overbold statement, added to the persistence of the people of the
neighbourhood, that no man could throw the Logan Rock from its
balance, stirred up a silly young lieutenant, Hugh Colvill Goldsmith,
of H.M.S. cutter _Nimble_, on the preventive service, lying off the
Land's End on the look-out for smugglers, to attempt to do what the
popular voice declared to be impossible. Lieut. Goldsmith was a nephew
of the famous Oliver Goldsmith, and had consequently some flighty
Irish blood in his veins.


_Taken after the Rock was displaced on the 8th of April_, 1824]

"On April 8, 1824," says the _Gentleman's Magazine_, "a party of
sailors belonging to H.M. cutter _Nimble_, commanded by Lieut.
Goldsmith, came on shore for the purpose of removing from its
situation that great curiosity the Logging (rocking) Stone; and which
object they were unfortunately enabled to accomplish. This mass of
granite, which is nearly 100 tons weight, was one of the three objects
that excited the curiosity of every visitor to the west part of
Cornwall. It stood on the summit of a mass of rocks at the Land's End,
and was so poised on a natural pivot, that the force which a man could
exert was sufficient to cause it to vibrate. In this situation it
remained from a period anterior to our authentic records, as it is
noticed by our earliest writers, until the _barbarian_ above
mentioned, in sheer wantonness, removed it from its place. This act of
vandalism has excited the greatest indignation at Penzance, as it will
in every part of Cornwall, and throughout the kingdom. It appears that
Lieut. Goldsmith landed at the head of fourteen of his men, and with
the assistance of handspikes and a handscrew, called by the sailors
jack-in-the-box, with much labour and perseverance threw over the
stone. What renders the act most atrocious is, that two poor families,
who derived a subsistence from attending visitors to the stone, are
now deprived of the means of support."

It was found that the handspikes and jack were of no avail. Accordingly
Goldsmith made his fourteen men put their shoulders to the stone and
bring it into such violent oscillation that at last it toppled over.

The Logan Stone, thus displaced, would have rolled down from the tor
on which it had rested and have shot into the sea, had it not happily
been arrested by a cleft in the rock.

The indignation of the people was great, so that the life of Lieut.
Goldsmith was threatened by the sturdy fishermen, should he land. But
the desire to land was taken from him, for the whole county was
roused, and a gathering of the magistrates was summoned to consider
what could be done, and to memorialize the Admiralty against the
perpetrator of this wanton act of mischief.

Happily Mr. Davies Gilbert was at the time in London, and he at once
proceeded to the Admiralty and complained of the vandalism perpetrated,
and requested that the lieutenant should be ordered to replace the block
as found, and that the proper apparatus, capstan, blocks, chains, etc.,
should be furnished by the dockyard at Devonport.

This was undertaken, and orders were despatched to Lieut. Goldsmith
that he must either restore the Logan Rock to its old position, at his
own cost, or forfeit his commission. As the expense would be wholly
beyond his means, Mr. Davies Gilbert very liberally subscribed £150
for the purpose.

A writer, Lieut. L. Edye, in the _Western Antiquary_ for 1887, says:
"In his trouble he appealed to my grandfather (Mr. William Edye) for
advice and assistance, stating that the Admiralty had called upon him
either to replace the stone or forfeit his commission. My grandfather,
ever ready to render assistance to any one in trouble, readily
assisted, and having travelled into Cornwall (as a friend) and seen
the damage done, applied to the Admiralty for the loan of plant and
men. Their Lordships complied with the request, but stipulated that
the cost must be entirely defrayed by Lieut. Goldsmith."

We will now see what Goldsmith had to say for himself. The following
is an extract from a letter written by him to his mother, dated April
24th, 1824:--

"The facts in question, my dear mother, are these: On the 8th of this
month we were off the Land's End, near the spot where the Rock stood.
Our boats were creeping along shore beneath it for some goods which, we
suspected, might be sunk in the sands near it. I took the opportunity of
landing to look at the Logan Rock with my mate; and hearing that it was
not in the power of men to remove it, I took it into my head to try my
skill, and, at this time (half-past four o'clock p.m.), the boats having
finished what they had to do, and it blowing too fresh for them to creep
any longer, I took them and their crew with me, and, having landed at
the foot of the rocks, we all scrambled up the precipice. We had with
us, at first, three handspikes, with which we tried to move the Rock,
but could not do it." By move the rock he really means--displace it. A
child could move it on its pivot. "The handspikes were then laid aside,
and the nine men who were with me took hold of the Rock by the edge, and
with great difficulty set it in a rocking motion, which became so great,
that I was fearful of bidding them try to stop it lest it should fall
back upon us, and away it went unfortunately, clean over upon its side,
where it now rests. There was not an instrument of any kind or
description near the Rock when thrown over, except one handspike, and
that I held in my hand, but which was of no use in upsetting the Rock;
and this is the truth, and nothing but the truth, as I hope for

"For my part, I had no intention, or the most distant thought, of
doing mischief, even had I thrown the Rock into the sea. I was
innocently, as my God knows, employed, as far as any bad design about
me. I knew not that the Rock was so idolized in this neighbourhood,
and you may imagine my astonishment when I found all Penzance in an
uproar. I was to be transported at least; the newspapers have traduced
me, and made me worse than a murderer, and the base falsehoods in them
are more than wicked. But here I am, my dear mother, still holding up
my head, boldly conscious of having only committed an act of
inadvertency. Be not uneasy--my character is yet safe; and you have
nothing on that score to make you uneasy. I have many friends in
Penzance: among them the persons most interested in the Rock, and many
who were most violent now see the thing in its true light. I intend
putting the bauble in its place again, and hope to get as much credit
as I have anger for throwing it down."[1]


The letter is disingenuous, and is the composition of a man impudent
and conceited. He knew the estimation in which the Logan Rock was
held, and it was because Borlase had pronounced it impossible of
displacement that he resolved to displace it. He pretends that he
tried to "move" it, whereas from the context it is clear that he
intended to throw it down, and for this purpose had brought the
handspikes. He boasts vaingloriously of his intention of replacing it
and gaining glory thereby, and never says a word about his having
been given by the Admiralty the alternative of doing that or losing
his commission. Nor does he mention the generous help he received from
Mr. Gilbert and his kinsman Mr. Edye.

On November 2nd, in the presence of vast crowds, ladies waving their
handkerchiefs, and men firing _feux de joie_, the block was raised, Mr.
Goldsmith, his natural conceit overcoming his sense of vexation,
superintending the operation. But, although replaced, it was no longer
so perfectly balanced as before. As one wrote who was present at the
time, "it rocked differently, though well enough to satisfy the people."

An account of the feat, written in the true style of the penny-a-liner,
appeared in the _Royal Cornwall Gazette_ of the 6th November:--

"The Logan Rock is in its place, and _logs_ again. Lieut. Goldsmith
has nobly repaired the error of a moment by a long trial of skill and
energy and courage. I say courage, for it was a work of great peril;
and wherever danger was, there he was always foremost--under the
weight of the mass of machinery, and on the edge of the precipice....
I shall content myself with barely observing, as a proof of the skill
of applying the complicated machinery employed, that many engineers
had their doubts whether it could be so applied, and even when
erected, they doubted whether it would be efficient.

"The moment, therefore (on Friday last), when the men took their
stations at the capstans was an anxious one, and when, after twenty
minutes' toil, Lieut. Goldsmith announced from the stage, 'It moves,
thank God!' a shout of applause burst from all who beheld it.
Endeavour to conceive a group of rocks of the most grand and romantic
appearance, forming an amphitheatre, with multitudes seated on the
irregular masses, or clinging to its precipices: conceive a huge
platform carried across an abyss from rock to rock, and upon it three
capstans manned by British seamen. Imagine the lofty masts which are
seen rearing their heads, from which ropes are connected with chains
in many a fold and of massive strength. A flag waves over all: the
huge stone is in the midst. Every eye is directed to the monstrous
bulk. Will it break its chains? Will it fall and spread ruin? Or will
it defy the power that attempts to stir it? Will all the skill and
energy, and strength and hardihood, have been exerted in vain? We
shall soon know: expectation sits breathless; and at last it moves.

"All's well. Such was the first half-hour. In two hours it was
suspended in the air, and vibrated; but art was triumphant, and held
the huge leviathan fast.

"I will not detail the labour of two successive days; but come to the
last moment. At twenty minutes past four on Tuesday afternoon a signal
was given that the rock was in its place and that it logged again.
This was announced by a spectator. But where was Lieut. Goldsmith? Why
does not he announce it? He has called his men around him: his own and
their hats are off: he is addressing them first, and calling upon them
to return thanks to God, through whose aid alone the work had been
done--a work of great peril and hazard--and by His blessing without
loss of life or limb.

"After this appropriate and solemn act, he called upon them to join in
the British sailors' testimony of joy, three cheers; and then turned
with all his gallant men to receive the re-echoing cheers of the
assembled multitude. That Lieut. Goldsmith, whose character--like the
rock--is replaced on a firm basis, may have an opportunity of
exerting his great talents and brave spirit in the service of his
profession, is the sincere wish of all this neighbourhood."

Lieut. L. Edye, in his communication to the _Western Antiquary_ above
quoted, says: "The result of this foolhardy act was that Lieut.
Goldsmith was pecuniarily ruined, whilst the natives of the locality
reaped a rich harvest by pointing out the fallen stone to visitors."

The Cornish are a forgiving people, and it was actually proposed after
the re-erection of the stone to give to Lieut. Goldsmith a dinner and
a silver cup.

Lieut. Hugh Colvill Goldsmith had been born at St. Andrew's, New
Brunswick, 2nd April, 1789, so that he was aged thirty-five when he
performed this prank. He died at sea off S. Thomas, in the West
Indies, 8th October, 1841, without having obtained advancement.


[1] The letter is given in _Household Words_, 1852, p. 234.

                       HUGH PETERS, THE REGICIDE

The life and character of this man present unusual difficulties. On
one side he was unduly lauded, he was represented, especially by
himself, as a paragon of all virtues; on the other he was decried with
virulence, his past life raked over, and every scandal brought to the
surface and exposed to public view, and we cannot be at all sure that
all these scandals laid to his charge were true.

We do not know much about his origin, and why he was named Peters; he
was the son of a Thomas Dickwood, _alias_ Peters, and Martha, daughter
of John Treffry of Treffry. This Dickwood, _alias_ Peters, is said to
have been a merchant of Fowey, descended from Dutch ancestors who had
escaped from Antwerp for their adherence to the Reformed religion; and
Hugh Peters was born in 1599. But Dickwood is not a Flemish or Dutch
name. Henry Peters, M.P. for Fowey, who died in 1619, married Deborah,
daughter of John Treffry of Place, in 1610, and had one son, Thomas,
who was thrown into prison by Cromwell for his loyalty to King
Charles. Neither Hugh Peters nor his father with the _alias_ appears
in the well-authenticated pedigree of the family of Peters of Harlyn.
It may be suspected that the father of Hugh Peters was a bastard of
one of the Peters family.

Be that as it may, Hugh Peters was sent to Trinity College,
Cambridge, at the age of fourteen--his elder brother at the time was a
student at Oxford--and he took his degree of B.A. in 1616. For a time
he led a rather wild life and joined a party of comedians. Dr. William
Yonge says that "he joined a common society of players: when, after
venting his frothy inventions, he had a greater call to a higher
promotion, namely, to be a jester, or rather a fool, in Shakespeare's
Company of Players." Shakespeare died in 1616, so this must have been
his company continuing to bear his name. He, however, became converted
by a sermon he heard at S. Faith's, and "deserted his companions and
employments, and returning to his chamber near Fleet Conduit,
continued between hope and despair a year or more."

[Illustration: HUGH PETERS

_From an old engraving_]

He was ordained deacon 23rd December, 1621, and priest 8th June, 1623,
by Mountain, Bishop of London, and took his M.A. degree in 1622. He
was licensed to preach at S. Sepulchre's. He says of himself:--

"To Sepulchre's I was brought by a very strange providence; for
preaching before at another place, and a young man receiving some good,
would not be satisfied, but I must preach at Sepulchre's, once monthly,
for the good of his friends, in which he got his end (if I might not
show vanity), and he allowed thirty pounds per _ann._ to that lecture,
but his person unknown to me. He was a chandler, and died a good man,
and Member of Parliament. At this lecture the resort grew so great, that
it contracted envy and anger; though I believe above a hundred every
week were persuaded from sin to Christ; there were six or seven thousand
hearers, and the circumstances fit for such good work."

How six or seven thousand persons could be got into St. Sepulchre's
Church passes one's comprehension. According to his own account, he
got into trouble through Nonconformity. Ludlow, in his _Memoirs_, says
that Peters "had been a minister in England for many years, till he
was forced to leave his native country by the persecution set on foot,
in the time of Archbishop Laud, against all those who refused to
comply with the innovations and superstitions which were then
introduced into the public worship."

There is, however, another and less creditable explanation. He is said
to have become entangled in an intrigue with a butcher's wife. But how
far this is true, and whether it be malicious scandal, we have no
means of judging.

He had, however, married the widow of Edmund Read, of Wickford, Essex,
and mother of Colonel Thomas Read, afterwards Governor of Stirling,
and a partisan of Monk at the Restoration. Mrs. Edmund Read also had a
daughter, Elizabeth, who in 1635 married the younger Winthrop,
Governor of Connecticut.

From London Peters went to Rotterdam, where, if Yonge may be trusted,
he paid such court to and attempted such familiarities with a Mrs.
Franklyn, that she complained to her husband, whereupon Mr. Franklyn
"entertains Peters with crab-tree sauce."

At Rotterdam he became preacher in the English chapel. What had become
of his wife, whether she remained in England or accompanied him to
Holland, we are not informed.

It will be well here to say a few words on the condition of religion
in England at the time.

The plan of Henry VIII had been to make the Church of England
independent of the Pope, but to remain Catholic. At his death the
Protector and the Duke of Northumberland, after the fall of Somerset,
had encouraged the ultra-Protestants. The churches had been plundered,
chantries and colleges robbed, the Mass interdicted, and the wildest
fanaticism encouraged. As Froude says: "Three-quarters of the English
people were Catholics; that is, they were attached to the hereditary
and traditionary doctrines of the Church. They detested, as cordially
as the Protestants, the interference of a foreign power, whether
secular or spiritual, with English liberty."

A more disgraceful page of history has never been written than that
regarding the two protectorates during the minority of Edward VI. The
currency was debased, peculation was rife. "Amidst the wreck of
ancient institutions," says Froude, "the misery of the people, and the
moral and social anarchy by which the nation was disintegrated,
thoughtful persons in England could not fail to be asking themselves
what they had gained by the Reformation.

"The movement commenced by Henry VIII, judged by its present results,
had brought the country at last into the hands of mere adventurers.
The people had exchanged a superstition which, in its grossest abuses,
prescribed some shadow of respect for obedience, for a superstition
which merged obedience in speculative belief; and under that baneful
influence, not only the higher virtues of self-sacrifice, but the
commonest duties of probity and morality, were disappearing. Private
life was infected with impurity to which the licentiousness of the
Catholic clergy appeared like innocence. The Government was corrupt,
the courts of law were venal. The trading classes cared only to grow
rich. The multitude were mutineers from oppression.... The better
order of commonplace men, who had a conscience, but no special depth
of insight--who had small sense of spiritual things, but a strong
perception of human rascality--looked on in a stern and growing
indignation, and, judging the tree by its fruits, waited their
opportunity for action."

When Mary came to the throne there was an immense outburst of
enthusiasm, the time of the Protestant protectorates was looked back
on as a bad dream. In spite of the fact that England was under an
interdict, the Mass was restored, and no rector or vicar cared a straw
for the Papal bull, nor indeed did Mary, who heard Mass in the chapel
of the Tower, and afterwards in S. Paul's.

If Mary had only accepted the advice tendered to her by Charles V, she
would have reigned as a popular monarch, and have settled the
condition of the Church of England on lines that commended themselves
to nobles, commons, and clergy alike, Catholic but not Papal. But she
had looked too long to the see of Peter as her support, and she
managed completely to alienate the affections of her people. The fires
of Smithfield brought the fanatics who had been discredited in the
former reign into favour once more; and when Elizabeth came to the
throne, and had been deposed by Pope Pius V, and her subjects released
from allegiance to her, and plots formed for her assassination, under
favour of the Pope, the religious sentiment in England was cleft as
with a hatchet--some who loved the religion of their fathers were
constrained against their will and consciences to become Papists, and
others became wild and reckless fanatics in a Puritan direction.
Between these two parties sat the vast bulk of the English people,
looking this way, that way, and deeming all religion foolishness, and
self-interest the only thing to be sought after. All the foundations
of the religious world were out of course. The _via media_ is all very
well in theory and when well trodden, but when it is experimental,
and one road to the right leads to Rome and that to the left to
Geneva, the _via media_ may be taken to lead nowhere, and those who
tread it have to do so uncertainly. A session between two stools is
precarious, and the Church of England had been forced by the folly of
Mary to adopt this position. The consequence was that in the reigns of
Elizabeth and James and Charles I there was no enthusiasm in the
clergy of the Church. The bishops were grasping, self-seeking
worldlings. Matthew Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, was the best
among an ignoble crew. When he died, says Froude, "he left behind him
enormous wealth, which had been accumulated, as is proved from a
statement in the handwriting of his successor, by the same
unscrupulous practices which had brought about the first revolt
against the Church. No Catholic prelate in the old easy times had so
flagrantly abused the dispensation system. Every year he made profits
by admitting children to the cure of souls, for money. He used a
graduated scale in which the price for inducting an infant into a
benefice varied with the age, children under fourteen not being
inadmissible, if the adequate fees were forthcoming."[2]

The great majority of the nobility and gentry of England clung to the
doctrine and ceremonies of the ancient Church, and yet were united in
determination to oppose the Papal claims. Benefices in their
presentation were held by priests who said the Communion Service,
which was but the Mass in English, with the ancient vestments and
ritual; and others, next door, were held by men who could hardly be
compelled to wear even the surplice, and who celebrated the Eucharist
but once in the year.

The Church was a hodgepodge of conflicting doctrines and ceremonial.
As Froude says:--

"So long as a single turn of the wheel, a violent revolution, or the
Queen's death, might place a Catholic (Papist) on the throne, the
Established Church held a merely conditional existence. It had no root
in the nation, for every earnest man who was not a Puritan was a
Catholic; and its officers, for the most part, regarded their tenures
as an opportunity for enriching themselves, which would probably be
short, and should in prudence be made use of while it remained.
Benefices were appropriated to laymen, sold, or accumulated upon
favourites. Churches in many places were left unserved, and cobblers
and tailors were voted by the congregations into the pulpits. 'The
bishops,' said Cecil, 'had no credit either for learning, good living,
or hospitality.' The Archbishop of York had scandalized his province
by being found in bed with the wife of an innkeeper at Doncaster.
Other prelates had bestowed ordination 'on men of lewd life and
corrupt behaviour.' The Bishop of Lichfield had made seventy 'lewd and
unlearned ministers, for money,' in one day."[3]

Bishop Barlow, of S. David's, had torn the lead roof off his palace
and the castle at Lawhadden to provide dowers for his daughters, and
would have unroofed his cathedral had he not been prevented by
Elizabeth, because in it was the monument of Edmund, Earl of Richmond,
the father of Henry VII. When translated to Bath and Wells he
destroyed the lady chapel, the finest Perpendicular building in the
West of England, surpassing even Sherborne and Bath, and sold
it--lead, roof, stones, and all. Some of the clergy were mere
temporizers, without convictions, taking their colour from their
patrons, and ready to believe or pretend to believe this or that, as
suited their pockets. The majority were indifferent--ignorant--not
knowing where they stood. Many had thrust their way into Holy Orders
for the sake of the loaves and fishes that might be obtained in the
Established Church, with no work to do, without education, without
zeal, without convictions, and consequently totally without the least
enthusiasm, without any fixed principles.

Laud and the Star Chamber sought to produce conformity by cutting off
ears and slitting noses. But what Laud failed to see was that the only
men in religious England who knew their minds, who had any fixed
principles in religion, were the Papists and the Puritans. What they
should have done, but what probably they could not do, was to inspire
the clergy of the Church with zeal and enthusiasm. But the clergy
could not catch the fire from off the altar; they had entered Orders
for the sake of a rectory, a glebe and tithe, and cared for nothing
else. If one half--nay, one quarter--of the charges brought against
them by the Tryers be true, they were a most unworthy set. In
Elizabeth's reign there had been a difficulty in filling the
benefices, and any Jack and Tom who could gratify the bishop and could
read was ordained and appointed to a benefice. And these were the men
to maintain the doctrine of the Universal Church and Apostolic
tradition against fiery enthusiasts on one side who took their own
reading of Scripture for divine inspiration, and on the other against
the Papists who set their back against the Rock of Peter.

With churches picked bare, with sermons without fire, services
performed without dignity, often with indecorum, without religious
instruction from teachers who did not know what to teach, it is no
wonder that the people turned away to hot-gospellers and tub-thumpers
who, if they could not kindle in them love and charity, could set them
on fire with self-righteousness and religious animosities.

At Rotterdam Peters threw over creed and liturgy of the Church of
England, and leaving the English chapel, became co-pastor with Dr.
William Ames of an Independent meeting-house at Rotterdam, and Ames
died there in his arms. In Holland Peters made the acquaintance of
John Forbes, Professor of Divinity in the University of Aberdeen, a
great Hebraist. In a pamphlet published by Peters in 1646 he says: "I
lived about six years near that famous Scotsman, Mr. John Forbes, with
whom I travelled into Germany, and enjoyed his society in much love
and sweetness constantly; from whom I received nothing but
encouragement, though we differed in the way of our 'churches.'"

After Peters had spent six years in the United Provinces, he suddenly
threw up his pastoral charge and departed for New England, with five
hundred pounds in his pocket, which his friends furnished, and a young
waiting-maid, Mary Morell, whom he shortly after married to one Peter

"In this year (1635)," says one account, "came over that famous
servant of Christ, Mr. Hugh Peters. He was called to office by the
Church of Christ at Salem, their former pastor, the Rev. Mr.
Higginson, having ended his labours resting in the Lord."

Salem had been planted but a few years before, the first colonists in
Massachusetts having settled there in 1628. Here he remained for over
seven years, combining his duties as a minister of religion and
trading, so that he was spoken of as "the father of our commerce and
the founder of our trade."

He was also a militant Christian, and was present in the fighting
against the Pequot Indians. Concerning the prisoners taken, Hugh
Peters wrote:--

    "SIR,--Mr. Endicott and myself salute you in the Lord Jesus, etc.
    [_sic_]. We have heard of a divisioning of women and children in the
    Bay, and would be glad of a share, viz. a young woman or girl, and a
    boy if you think good. I wrote to you for some boys to Bermuda.

                                                      "HUGH PETERS."

These prisoners were used as slaves, and sold just as were the negroes
later. Peters, we are informed, was not friendly to the notion of
converting the Indians to Christianity. He would entertain compunction
about enslaving them should they embrace the gospel. However, money
was sent over from England for this purpose, and--at the suggestion of
Peters. In the _Colonial State Papers_ (Saintsbury, America and West
Indies, 1661-8, p. 86), is this passage: "Through the motion of Hugh
Peters, England contributed nine hundred pounds per annum to
Christianize the Indians of New England; which money found its way
into private men's purses, and was a cheat of Hugh Peters."

In New England Peters married a second wife, in 1639, another widow,
by name Deliverance Sheffield.

In 1641 he left for England, deputed by the colony to act as ambassador
at the Court of Charles I, to endeavour to procure some mitigation of
the excise and customs duties, which weighed heavily on the colonists.

But on reaching England he found that the Crown and the Parliament
were at variance, and he did not care to return to America and to his
wife whom he had left there, but elected to be the stormy petrel of
the rebellion, flying over the land, and, as Ludlow says, advising the
people everywhere to take arms in the cause of the Parliament.

He was appointed chaplain to a brigade of troops sent into Ireland
against the rebels, and he had no hesitation in wielding the sword as
well as the tongue, the latter to animate the soldiers, the former to
extirpate the Baal-worshippers.

Then he hastened to Holland, where he collected thirty thousand pounds
for the relief of the Protestants of Ireland,[4] who had been
plundered and burnt out of their homes by the rebels.

When Peters had effected his various purposes in Ireland, he returned
to England, and made his report of the condition of affairs there to
Sir Thomas Fairfax and Cromwell.

In 1643 he was appointed, or thrust himself forward, to minister to
Chaloner on the scaffold, as that man had been condemned to death for
participation in Waller's plot. So again in 1644 he was on the
scaffold haranguing and praying for and at Sir John Hotham, who
probably would have preferred to die in quiet.

Peters was now engaged as chaplain to the Parliamentary forces, and
especially as a conveyer of despatches, for all which he received
liberal payment. He was with the Earl of Warwick at the taking of
Lyme, and was despatched by that nobleman to London to give an account
of the affair in Parliament. On another occasion he was entrusted with
letters from Sir Thomas Fairfax relating to the capture of Bridgwater,
on which occasion he was voted a sum of £100. In the same year, 1645,
he was commissioned by Sir Thomas to report the taking of Bristol. In
March of that year Hugh Peters was with the army in Cornwall, and
harangued at Bodmin against the Crown and the Church, and exhorted all
good men and true to adhere to the cause of the Parliament.

Peters had uniformly, since he had been in the Low Countries, postured
as an Independent hot and strong. Hitherto the Presbyterians had the
prevailing party in Parliament, and among the discontents in the
country, but now the Independents began to assert themselves and assume
predominance. Their numbers were greatly increased by the return of the
more fiery spirits who had, like Peters, abandoned England during the
supremacy of Laud. Many of these, coming back from New England, had
carried the doctrines of Puritanism to the very verge of extravagance,
and not the least fiery and extravagant of these was Hugh Peters. These
men rejected all ecclesiastical establishments, would admit of no
spiritual authority in one man above another, and allowed of no
interposition of the magistrate in religious matters. Each congregation,
voluntarily united, was an integral and independent church, to exercise
its own jurisdiction. The political system of the Independents was one
of pure republicanism. They aspired to a total abolition of monarchy,
even of the aristocracy, and projected a commonwealth in which all men
should be equal. Sir Harry Vane, Oliver Cromwell, Nathaniel Fiennes, and
Oliver St. John, the Solicitor-General, were regarded as their leaders,
and Hugh Peters as their prophet.

Peters brought the news to Parliament of the capture of Winchester
Castle, for which service he was paid £50. When Dartmouth was taken,
he hastened thence to London, laden with crucifixes, vestments,
papers, and sundry church ornaments, of which he had despoiled the
beautiful church of S. Saviour's; and received in recompense from the
Parliament an estate of which the House had deprived Lord Craven.

When the city of Worcester was besieged in the year 1646 by the
Parliamentary forces, the governor consented to surrender on condition
that passes were given to the soldiers and to the principal
inhabitants. Peters negotiated the surrender.

A Mr. Habingdon, who wrote an account of the siege at the time, and
who died in the ensuing year, relates that on the 23rd July, 1646,
many gentlemen went to six o'clock prayers at the cathedral to take
the last sad farewell of the church services, the organs having been
removed three days before, and that at ten o'clock in the morning the
several regiments marched forth, and all the gentlemen with the
baggage; and that at one o'clock Peters brought them their passes, and
importuned every one individually to pass his word not again to bear
arms against the Parliament.

Hugh Peters was now such a favourite with the Parliament that they
made an order for £100 a year to himself and his heirs for ever; later
an additional £200 per annum was voted to him, and all this in
addition to his pay as preacher, and to sundry grants as bearer of
news from the army. He was also accorded Archbishop Laud's library.
Nevertheless, as he lamented in his _Legacy of a Dying Father_, he
found it impossible to keep out of debt.

There is this in Peters' favour to be urged, that he opposed the
execution of Archbishop Laud, and urged that instead he should be sent
to New England. So he begged the life of Lord George Goring, Earl of
Norwich, and of the Marquis of Hamilton, and again of the Marquis of

The Presbyterians were in force in the House of Commons, but the army
was composed mainly of Independents, worked up to enthusiasm by their
preachers. It had been six months in the field in the summer of 1648,
engaged against the Cavaliers and Scots. The soldiers were thoroughly
incensed against the King, and they had no respect for the
Presbyterians. Their officers resolved on assuming the sovereign power
in their own hands, and bringing the King to justice, and converting
the Government into a commonwealth.

To accomplish this they presented a remonstrance to the Parliament by
six of their council on November 20th, demanding: (1) that the King be
brought to trial for high treason; (2) that a day be set for the
Prince of Wales and the Duke of York to surrender themselves, or to be
declared incapable of government, and that in future no king should be
admitted but by the free election of the people.

The Commons were struck with dismay, and deferred debate on the
remonstrance for ten days. But the officers despatched Colonel Ewes to
the Isle of Wight with a party of horse to secure the King's person,
and to bring him to Windsor, in order to his trial. The officers then,
on November 30th, sent a declaration to the House to enforce their
late remonstrance, and requiring the majority in the House to exclude
from their councils such as would obstruct the King's trial.

On December 2nd Fairfax arrived in London at the head of the army, and
the House of Commons found itself cornered by the armed force.
Nevertheless, they had the courage to vote that the seizure of the
King, and the conveying him a prisoner to Hurst Castle, had been done
without their advice and consent.

The officers were resolved to carry their point. A regiment of horse and
another of foot were placed at the door of the Parliament House, and
Colonel Pride entered and took into custody about forty of the members
who were disposed to obstruct the cause the army sought to pursue, and
denied entrance to about a hundred more; others were ordered to leave;
and the number of those present was thus thinned down to a hundred and
fifty or two hundred, most of them officers of the army.

The secluded members published a protestation against all these
proceedings as null and void till they were restored to their places;
but the Lords and Commons who remained in the House voted their
protestation false, scandalous, and seditious.

The army, having vanquished all opposition, went on to change the
whole form of government; and to make way for it determined to impeach
the King of high treason, as having been the cause of all the blood
that had been spilt in the late war.

There was commotion in the House and in town and the country. In the
House some declared that there was no need to bring the King to trial;
others said that there existed no law by which he could be tried; but
all this was overruled.

Meanwhile Hugh Peters was not idle. In a sermon addressed to the
members of the two Houses a few days before the King's trial he said:
"My Lords, and you noble Gentlemen,--It is you we chiefly look for
justice from. Do you prefer the great Barabbas, Murderer, Tyrant, and
Traitor, before these poor hearts (pointing to the red coats) and the
army who are our saviour?"

In another sermon before Cromwell and Bradshaw he said: "There is a
great discourse and talk in the world, What, will ye cut off the head
of a Protestant Prince? Turn to your Bibles, and ye shall find it
there, Whosoever sheds man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. I
see neither King Charles, Prince Charles, Prince Rupert, nor Prince
Maurice, nor any of that rabble excepted out of it."

Evelyn in his _Diary_, under date 17th January, 1648-9, says: "I heard
the rebel Peters invite the rebel powers met in the Painted Chamber to
destroy his Majesty." Bishop Burnet says: "That he (Peters) had been
outrageous in pressing the King's death with the cruelty and rudeness
of an inquisitor."

Prynne, one of the secluded members, published "A brief memento to the
present unparliamentary junto, touching their present intentions and
proceedings to depose and execute Charles Stuart, their lawful King of

The officers now decided to gain the approval of the
ministers--Presbyterian--in London, or at least persuade them to
remain neutral.

Hugh Peters was selected for the purpose, and he went among them, but
all his efforts were fruitless. They declared unanimously for the
release of the King. He then invited several of them, Calamy,
Whitaker, Sedgwick, etc., to a conference with some of the officers;
but instead of attending, the ministers assembled in Sion College and
drew up "A serious and faithful representation of the judgment of the
ministers of the Gospel within the province of London," dated 18th
January, 1648-9. In this they protested against the coercive measures
adopted toward the Parliament, and bade them beware of proceeding to
extremities. "Examine your consciences, if any number of persons of
different principles from yourselves had invaded the rights of
Parliament, imprisoned the King, and carried him about from place to
place, and attempted the dissolution of the whole government, whether
you would not have charged them with the highest crimes."

This was subscribed by forty-seven ministers.

A second paper, "A vindication of the London ministers from the unjust
aspersions ... as if they had promoted the bringing of the King to
capital punishment," appeared shortly after, signed by fifty-seven

Even the Independent preachers shrank from approving the proceedings of
the council of officers in the trial of the King, with the exception of
Hugh Peters and John Goodwin. Some of the Independent ministers in the
country joined the Presbyterians in protesting against them.

But it was all in vain. The King was tried and sentenced to death, and
executed on 30th January, 1649. Rumour had it that the masked
executioner was none other than Peters himself. This he denied,
asserting that on the day of the King's death he was ill in bed. He
had certainly been about and preaching not many days before.

Who the executioner was, was never discovered, and Peters was not
charged as such when tried for his life in 1660.

In _Epulæ Thyestæ_, printed in 1649, Peters is accused of having been
the executioner of King Charles:--

          There's Peters, the Denyer, (nay 'tis sad)
          He that, disguised, cut off his Master's head;
          That godly pigeon of Apostacy
          Does buz about his Ante-Monarchy,
          His scaffold Doctrines.

But there was an element of kindness in Hugh Peters that induced him
to do gracious acts even to those whom he hated. Whitelocke assures us
that "at a conference between him (Peters) and the King, the King
desired one of his own chaplains might be permitted to come to him" on
the occasion of his execution; he had refused the ministrations of the
Presbyterian divines, "and thereupon the Bishop of London was ordered
to go to his Majesty."

On a former occasion a message from the Queen was allowed to be
transmitted to the King through the instrumentality of Peters.

In his letter to his daughter Peters says: "I had access to the
King--he used me civilly, I, in requital, offered my poor thoughts
three times for his safety." It was an impertinence in the man to
approach the King, when he had stirred up the army to demand his
death, and had raced about London endeavouring to get the approval of
the sentence from the ministers. Although we cannot believe that Hugh
Peters was the executioner of Charles, yet he cannot be acquitted of
being a regicide, on the same principle as the trumpeter in the fable
was condemned to be hanged. His plea that he had not drawn a sword in
the battle was not held to justify him--he had sounded the charge and
summoned to the battle.

Peters was one of the Triers appointed by Cromwell to test the
parochial clergy, and to eject from their livings such as did not
approve themselves to their judgment as fitting pastors to the flock
either by their morals or theological opinions.

Every parishioner who bore a grudge against his pastor was invited to
lay his grievances before the Grand Committee. Lord Clarendon says:
"Petitions presented by many parishioners against their pastors, with
articles of their misdemeanours and behaviours ... were read with
great delight and promptly referred to the Committee about Religion."
The matter of these accusations was for the most part, as Clarendon
informs us, "bowing at the name of Jesus, and obliging the
communicants to the altar, i.e. to the rails which enclosed the
Communion table, to receive the sacrament." What the Puritans desired
was that the minister should walk about the church distributing to the
people in the pews. The observance of all holy days except Sundays had
already been forbidden. A priest who said service on Christmas Day or
Good Friday was certain of deprivation. But the great question put to
each rector or vicar was, "whether he had any experience of a work of
grace" in his heart, and the answer to this determined whether he
should be allowed to hold his cure or be thrust out, apart from all
question of moral fitness. That there were a host of lukewarm,
indifferent men in the ministry, caring little for religion and
knowing little, without fixed convictions, cannot be wondered at,
after the swaying of the pendulum of belief during the last reigns,
and these would be precisely the men who would be able volubly to
assert their experience of divine grace, and abandon doctrines they
never sincerely held and ceremonies about which they cared nothing.
There were vicars of Bray everywhere.

Butler hits off the work of the Triers in _Hudibras_:--

          Whose business is, by cunning sight,
          To cast a figure for men's light;
          To find in lines of Beard and Face
          The Physiognomy of Grace;
          And by the Sound and Twang of Nose,
          If all the sound within disclose;
          Free from a crack or flaw of sinning,
          As men try pipkins by the ringing.

Peters was next appointed a commissioner for the amending of the laws,
though he had no knowledge of law. He said himself, in his _Legacy_:
"When I was a trier of others, I went to hear and gain experience,
rather than to judge; when I was called to mend laws, I rather was there
to pray than to mend laws." Whitelocke says: "I was often advised with
by some of this committee, and none of them was more active in this
business than Mr. Hugh Peters, the minister, who understood little of
the law, but was very opinionative, and would frequently mention some
proceedings of law in Holland, wherein he was altogether mistaken."

Peters was chaplain to the Protector, and certainly in one way or
another made a good deal of money. Dr. Barwick in his Life says:[5]
"The wild prophecies uttered by his (Hugh Peters') impure mouth were
still received by the people with the same veneration as if they had
been oracles; though he was known to be infamous for more than one
kind of wickedness. A fact which Milton himself did not dare to deny
when he purposely wrote his Apology, for this very end, to defend even
by name, as far as possible, the very blackest of the conspirators,
and Hugh Peters among the chief of them, who were by name accused of
manifest impieties by their adversaries." Bishop Burnet says as well:
"He was a very vicious man."

Peters by his wife--his second wife, Deliverance, the widow of a Mr.
Sheffield--became the father of the Elizabeth Peters to whom he
addressed his _Dying Father's Last Legacy_.

The Dutch having been disconcerted by the defeats of their fleets by
Admiral Blake, and the messengers they had sent to England having
failed to satisfy Cromwell, in the beginning of the year 1653 they
commissioned Colonel Doleman and others to learn the sentiments of the
leading men in Parliament, and to gain over to the cause of peace Hugh
Peters, as Cromwell's influential chaplain. Peters had always
entertained a tenderness for the Dutch, and he interceded on their
behalf, and the Dutch gave him £300,000 wherewith to bribe and
purchase the amity of Parliament and the Protector. That a good share
of this gold adhered to Peters' fingers we may be pretty confident;
and indeed it was intended that it should do so. The attempt, however,
did not succeed, and when the negotiations were broken off, the Dutch
fitted out another fleet under Van Tromp, De Witt, and De Ruyter, and
appointed four other deputies to go upon another embassy to England.
These men arrived on July 2nd, 1658, and "all joined in one petition
for a common audience, praying thrice humbly that they should have a
favourable answer, and beseeching the God of Peace to co-operate."[6]

These ambassadors, like the foregoing, sought out Peters and engaged
his services. After several interviews, peace was at last concluded
2nd May, 1654. In the _Justification of the War_, by Stubbe, is an
engraving that represents the four deputies presenting their humble
petition to Peters.

In 1655 feeling in England was greatly stirred by the account that
reached the country of the persecution of the Waldenses in the valleys
of Piedmont. Cromwell at once ordered a collection for the sufferers
to be made throughout the kingdom, and it amounted to upwards of
£38,000. In this Peters took an active part. Ludlow says: "He was a
diligent and earnest solicitor for the distressed Protestants of the
valleys of Piedmont."

Soon after the affair of the persecuted Waldenses was concluded the
Protector formed an alliance, offensive and defensive, with the
French, in which it was agreed that Dunkirk should be delivered up to
him. In consequence of this agreement six thousand men were sent over
to join the French army, and Peters received a commission to attend
them thither. The town of Dunkirk, in consequence of this league, was
taken from the Spaniards, and on the 26th of June, 1658, was delivered
to Colonel Lockart, Cromwell's ambassador at the French Court.

Lockart wrote the following letter to Secretary Thurloe:--

                                  "DUNKIRK, _July_ 8-18_th_, 1658.

  "May it please your Lordship,

    "I could not suffer my worthy friend, Mr. Peters, to come away
    from Dunkirk without a testimony of the great benefits we have all
    received from him in this place, where he hath laid himself forth
    in great charity and goodness in sermons, prayers, and
    exhortations, in visiting and relieving the sick and wounded; and,
    in all these, profitably applying the singular talent God hath
    bestowed upon him to the chief ends, proper for an auditory. For
    he hath not only showed the soldiers their duty to God, and
    pressed it home upon them, I hope with good advantage, but hath
    likewise acquainted them with their obligations of obedience to
    his Highness's government and affection to his person. He hath
    laboured amongst us here with such goodwill, and seems to enlarge
    his heart towards us, and care of us for many other things, the
    effects whereof I design to leave upon that Providence which has
    brought us hither.... Mr. Peters hath taken leave at least three
    or four times, but still something falls out which hinders his
    return to England. He hath been twice at Bergh, and hath spoke
    with the Cardinal (Mazarin) three or four times; I kept myself by,
    and had a care that he did not importune him with too long
    speeches. He returns, loaden with an account of all things here,
    and hath undertaken every man's business. I must give him that
    testimony, that he gave us three or four very honest sermons; and
    if it were possible to get him to mind preaching, and to forbear
    the troubling himself with other things, he would certainly prove
    a very fit minister for soldiers. I hope he cometh well satisfied
    from this place. He hath often insinuated to me his desire to stay
    here, if he had a call. Some of the officers also have been with
    me to that purpose; but I have shifted him so handsomely as, I
    hope, he will not be displeased. For I have told him that the
    greatest service he can do us is to go to England and carry on his
    propositions, and to own us in all other interests, which he hath
    undertaken with much zeal."

This letter lets us see what were some of Peters' weaknesses. He was
vastly loquacious, so that Colonel Lockart had to see to it that he
did not "importune the Cardinal with too long speeches," and he was
conceited, self-opinionated, and meddlesome, interfering in matters
beyond his province, so that the Colonel was heartily glad to be rid
of him from Dunkirk.

That there was humour in Hugh Peters, not unfrequently running into
profanity, would appear from a work, "The Tales and Jests of Mr. Hugh
Peters, collected into one volume; published by one that hath formerly
been conversant with the Author in his lifetime; dedicated to Mr. John
Goodwin and Mr. Philip Nye." London, 1660.

These appeared in the same year under a different title--"Hugh Peters,
his figaries, or his merry tales and witty jests both in city, town,
and country." It was reprinted by James Caulfield in 1807.

A few of these will suffice.

Peters had preached for two hours; the sands in the hour-glass had
run out. He observed it, and turning it over, said to his hearers:
"Come, let us have another glass!"

Once he preached: "Beware, young men, of the three W's--Wine, Women,
and Tobacco. Now Tobacco, you will say, does not begin with a W. But
what is Tobacco but a weed?"

Another of his jests in the pulpit was, "England will never prosper
till one hundred and fifty are taken away." The explanation is L L
L--Lords, Lawyers, and Levites.

Preaching on the devils entering into the swine (S. Mark v. 23), he
said that the miracle illustrated three English proverbs:--

1. That the devil will rather play at small game than sit out.

2. That those must needs go forward whom the devil drives.

3. That at last he brought his hogs to a fair market.

It was a favourite saying of Peters that in Christendom there were
neither scholars enough, gentlemen enough, nor Jews enough; for, said
he, if there were more scholars there would not be so many pluralists
in the Church; if there were more gentry, so many born would not be
reckoned among them; if there were more Jews, so many Christians would
not practise usury.

One rainy day Oliver Cromwell offered Peters his greatcoat. "No, thank
you," replied his chaplain; "I would not be in your coat for a
thousand pounds."

Discoursing one day on the advantage Christians had in having the
Gospel preached to them--"Verily," said he, "the Word hath a free
passage amongst you, for it goes in at one ear and out at the other."

Preaching on the subject of duties, he said:--

"Observe the three fools in the Gospel, who, being bid to the wedding
supper, every one had his excuse--

"1. He that had hired a farm and must go see it. Had he not been a
fool, he would have seen it before hiring it.

"2. He that had bought a yoke of oxen and must go try them. He also
was a fool, because he did not try them before he bought them.

"3. He that married a wife, and without complement said he could not
come. He too was a fool, for he showed that one woman drew him away,
more than a whole yoke of oxen did the former."

Peters, invited to dinner at a friend's house, knowing him to be very
wealthy and his wife very fat, said at table to his host, "Truly, sir,
you have the world and the flesh, but pray God you get not the devil
in the end."

The copy of the _Tales and Jests of Hugh Peters_ in the British Museum
has notes to some of them, showing that the writer regarded a certain
number as genuine anecdotes of Peters. Most of the others are either
older stories, or else have little or no wit in them.

The above anecdotes are some of those thus noted.

That Hugh Peters was a wag Pepys lets us know, for he speaks of a
Scottish chaplain at Whitehall, after the Restoration, a Dr.
Creighton, whose humour reminded the diarist of Peters: "the most
comical man that ever I heard; just such a man as Hugh Peters."

At the Restoration he was executed as a regicide. He was not directly
implicated in the King's death, and all that he could be accused of
was using words incentive to regicide. That he had been the
executioner was not charged against him. There was no evidence. The
accusations Hugh Peters had to meet were that he had encouraged the
soldiers to cry out for the blood of the King, whom he had likened to
Barabbas; that he had preached against him; that he had accused the
Levites, Lords, and Lawyers--the three L's, or the Hundred and Fifty,
in allusion to the numerical value of the numbers--as men who should
be swept out of the Commonwealth; that he had declared the King to be
a tyrant, and that the office of King was useless and dangerous.

Peters pleaded that he had been living fourteen years out of England,
and that when he came home he found that the Civil War had already
begun; that he had not been at Edgehill or Naseby; that he had looked
after three things only--the introduction into the country of what he
considered to be sound religion, the maintenance of learning, and the
relief of the poor. He further stated that on coming to England he had
considered it his duty to side with the Parliament, and that he had
acted without malice, avarice, or ambition.

The jury, with very little consultation, returned a verdict of guilty,
and he was sentenced to death.

On the 16th October Coke, the solicitor for the people of England who
had acted against the King at his trial, and Hugh Peters, who had
stood and preached that no mercy should be shown him, were to die.

On the hurdle which carried Coke was placed the head of Harrison, who
had been executed the day before--a piece of needless brutality, which
the people who lined the streets indignantly resented. On the scaffold
Coke declared that for the part he had borne in the trial of Charles I
he in no way repented of what he had done. Hugh Peters was made to
witness all the horrible details of Coke's execution, the hanging, the
disembowelling. He sat within the rails which surrounded the scaffold.
According to Ludlow: "When this victim (Coke) was cut down and brought
to be quartered, one Colonel Turner called to the sheriff's men to bring
Mr. Peters to see what was doing; which being done, the executioner came
to him, and rubbing his bloody hands together, asked him how he liked
that work. He told him he was not at all terrified, and that he might do
his worst, and when he was on the ladder he said to the sheriff, 'Sir,
you have butchered one of the servants of God before my eyes, and have
forced me to see it, in order to terrify and discourage me; but God has
permitted it for my support and encouragement.'"

A man upbraided Peters with the King's death. "Friend," said Peters,
"you do not well to trample upon a dying man: you are greatly
mistaken; I had nothing to do in the death of the King."

As he was going to the gallows, he looked about him and espied a man
with whom he was acquainted, and to him he gave a piece of money,
having first bent it; and he desired the man to carry that piece of
gold to his daughter as a token, and to assure her that his heart was
full of comfort, and that before that piece would reach her hand he
would be with God in glory. Then the old preacher, who had lived in
storms and whirlwinds, died with a quiet smile on his countenance.

That a considerable portion of the community regarded the execution of
the regicides as a crime, and those who suffered as martyrs, would
appear from the pains taken to vilify their memory when dead, and
attempts made to justify their execution.

The authorities for the life of Hugh Peters are mainly: _Memoirs of
Edmund Ludlow_, 1771; B. Whitelocke's _Memorials of English Affairs_,
1732; Rushworth's _Collections_, 1692; Bishop Burnet's _History of His
Own Time_, 1724; John Thurloe's _Collection of State Papers_, 1742; J.
B. Felt's _Ecclesiastical History of New England_, 1855; Benjamin
Brooke's _Puritans_, 1813, Vol. III; _The Trial of Charles I and of Some
of the Regicides_, in Murray's Family Library, 1832; the Rev. Samuel
Peters' _A History of the Rev. Hugh Peters_, New York, 1807; _An
Historical and Critical Account of Hugh Peters_ (with portrait), London,
1751, reprinted 1818; Felt (Joseph B.), _Memoir, a Defence of Hugh
Peters_, Boston, 1857; Colomb (Colonel), _The Prince of Army Chaplains_,
London, 1899; also Gardiner's (S. R.) _History of the Commonwealth_, and
the _Dictionary of National Biography, passim_.


[2] Froude, _Hist. of England_, X, p. 410.

[3] _Ibid._, XI, 471-2.

[4] We have only Peters' own word for this sum. It was probably much

[5] _Vita_, J. Barwick, London, 1721.

[6] Stubbe, _Justification of the War_, 1673, pt. ii. p. 83.

                          JAMES POLKINGHORNE,
                              THE WRESTLER

James Polkinghorne, the noted champion wrestler of Cornwall, was the
son of James Polkinghorne, who died at Creed, 18th March, 1836. The
wrestler James was born at S. Keverne in 1788, but there is no entry
of his baptism in the parish register.

Cornish wrestling was very different from that in Devon--it was less
brutal, as no kicking was allowed. The Devon wrestlers wore boots soaked
in bullock's blood and indurated at the fire, and with these hacked the
shins of their opponents, who wore as a protection _skillibegs_, or
bands of hay twisted and wrapped round their legs below the knee.

I have so fully described the wrestling in my _Devonshire Characters
and Strange Events_, that it is unnecessary here to go over the same
ground more than cannot be helped.

There was a Cornish jingle that ran as follows:--

          Chacewater boobies up in a tree,
          Looking as whish'd as ever could be,
          Truro men, strong as oak,
          Knock 'em down at every stroke--

that had reference to the wrestling matches.

In 1816 Polkinghorne, who had become the innkeeper of the "Red Lion,"
S. Columb Major, wrestled with Flower, a Devonshire man of gigantic
stature, and threw him. Then Jackman, another Devonian, challenged
Polkinghorne, and he was cast over the head of the Cornishman,
describing the "flying mare." But the most notable contest in which
Polkinghorne was engaged was with Abraham Cann, the Devonshire
champion. The match was for £200 a side, for the best of three
back-falls; and it took place on October 23rd, 1826, on Tamar Green,
Morice Town, Plymouth, in the presence of seventeen thousand
spectators. I have quoted the account already in my _Devonshire
Characters_, but cannot omit it here.


_From a drawing as he appeared in the Ring at Devonport on Monday,_ 23
_October_, 1826, _when he threw Abm. Cann, the Champion of Devonshire,
for a stake of_ 200 _sovereigns_]

"Tamar Green, Devonport, was chosen for the purpose, and the West was
alive with speculation when it was known that the backers meant
business. On the evening before the contest the town was inundated,
and the resources of its hotels and inns were taxed to the utmost.
Truculent and redoubtable gladiators flocked to the scene--kickers
from Dartmoor, the recruiting-ground of the Devonshire system, and
bearlike huggers from the land of Tre, Pol, and Pen--a wonderful
company of tried and stalwart experts. Ten thousand persons bought
tickets at a premium for seats, and the hills around swarmed with
spectators. The excitement was at the highest possible pitch, and
overwhelming volumes of cheering relieved the tension as the rivals
entered the ring--Polkinghorne in his stockings, and Cann with a
monstrous pair of shoes whose toes had been baked into flints. As the
men peeled for action such a shout ascended as awed the nerves of all
present. Polkinghorne had been discounted as fat and unwieldy, but the
Devonians were dismayed to find that, great as was his girth, his arms
were longer, and his shoulders immensely powerful. Three stone lighter
in weight, Cann displayed a more sinewy form, and his figure was knit
for strength, and as statuesquely proportioned. His grip, like
Polkinghorne's, was well known. No man had ever shaken it off when
once he had clinched; and each enjoyed a reputation for presence of
mind and resource in extremity beyond those of other masters of the
art. The match was for the best of three back-falls, the men to catch
what hold they could; and two experts from each county were selected
as sticklers. The feeling was in favour of Cann at the outset, but it
receded as the Cornishman impressed the multitude with his muscular
superiority. Repeatedly shifting their positions, the combatants
sought their favourite 'holds.' As soon as Cann caught his adversary
by the collar, after a contending display of shifty and evasive form,
Polkinghorne released himself by a feint; and, amid 'terrible shouts
from the Cornishmen,' he drove his foe to his knees.

"Nothing daunted, the Devonian accepted the Cornish hug, and the efforts
of the rivals were superb. Cann depended on his science to save him, but
Polkinghorne gathered his head under his arm, and lifting him from the
ground, threw him clean over his shoulder, and planted him on his back.
The very earth groaned with the uproar that followed; the Cornishmen
jumped by hundreds into the ring; there they embraced their champion
till he begged to be released; and, amid cheers and execrations, the
fall was announced to have complied with the conditions. Bets to the
amount of hundreds of pounds were decided by this event.

"Polkinghorne now went to work with caution, and Cann was conscious that
he had an awkward customer to tackle. After heavy kicking and attempted
hugging, the Cornishman tried once more to lift his opponent; but Cann
caught his opponent's leg in his descent, and threw him to the ground
first. In the ensuing rounds both men played for wind. Polkinghorne was
the more distressed, his knees quite raw with punishment, and the
betting veered in Cann's favour. Then the play changed, and Cann was
apparently at the mercy of his foe, when he upset Polkinghorne's balance
by a consummate effort, and threw him on his back by sheer strength--the
first that the sticklers allowed him. Cann next kicked tremendously; but
although the Cornishman suffered severely, he remained 'dead game,' and
twice saved himself by falling on his chest.

"Disputes now disturbed the umpires, and their number was reduced to
two. In the eighth round Polkinghorne's strength began to fail, and a
dispute was improvised which occasioned another hour's delay. With
wind regained and strength revived, the tenth round was contested with
absolute fury; and, taking kicking with fine contempt, Polkinghorne
gripped Cann with leonine majesty, lifted him from the earth in his
arms, turned him over his head, and dashed him to the ground with
stunning force. As the Cornishman dropped on his knee the fall was
disputed, and the turn was disallowed. Polkinghorne then left the ring
amid a mighty clamour, and by reason of his default the stakes were
awarded to Cann. The victor emerged from the terrific hug of his
opponent with a mass of bruises, which proved that kicking was only
one degree more effective than hugging.

"A more unsatisfactory issue could hardly have been conceived, and the
rival backers forthwith endeavoured to arrange another encounter.
Polkinghorne refused to meet Cann, however, unless he discarded his

Various devices were attempted to bring them together again, but they
failed. Each had a wholesome dread of the other.

An account of the contest was written as a ballad and was entitled "A
New Song on the Wrestling Match between Cann and Polkinghorne," that
was to be sung to the tune "The Night I Married Susy," or else to "The

Full accounts are to be found in _The Sporting Magazine_, London,
LXVII, 165-6; LXIX, 55-6, 215, 314-16, 344. In the _Annual Register_,
chronicle 1826, 157-8.

Polkinghorne died at S. Columb, on September 15th, 1854, at the age of
seventy-six, twenty-eight years after his match with Cann. He was
buried on September 17th.


[7] Whitfeld, _Plymouth and Devonport in War and Peace_, Plymouth, 1900.

                       HENRY TRENGROUSE, INVENTOR

Helston is a quaint old town, once of far more importance than at
present. It possessed an old castle, that has now disappeared. It was
one of the six stannary towns, and prior to 1832 returned two members
to Parliament. It still glories in its "Furry Day," when the whole
town goes mad, dancing, in spite of Methodism. It has on some of its
old house-gables pixy seats, and it had a grammar school that has had
notable masters, as Derwent Coleridge, and notable scholars, as Henry
Trengrouse. It is the key and capital to that wonderful district, rich
in geological and botanic and antiquarian interest, the Lizard.

The great natural curiosity of Helston is Loe Pool, formed by the
Comber, a small river, penned back by Loe Bar, a pebble-and-sand ridge
thrown up by the sea. The sheet of water lying between wooded hills
abounds in trout, and white swans float dreamily over the still water.
The banks are rich with fern, and yellow, white, and pink
mesembryanthemum. Formerly the pool rose till it overflowed the lower
parts of the town; now a culvert has been driven through the rocks to
let off the water as soon as it has attained a certain height.

Henry Trengrouse was born at Helston, 18th March, 1772, the son of
Nicholas Trengrouse (1739-1814), and of Mary, his wife, who was a

The family had been long among the freeholders of Helston, and
possessed as well a small estate, Priske, in the parish of Mullion;
but the family name is taken from Tref-an-grouse, the House by the
Cross, in the same parish.

Henry was educated in Helston Grammar School, and became, by trade, a

On 29th December, 1807, when he was aged thirty-five, a rumour spread
through the little town that a large frigate, H.M.S. _Anson_, had been
driven ashore on Loe Bar, about three miles distant. Mr. Trengrouse
and many others hastened to the coast and reached the bar.

The _Anson_, forty-four guns, under the command of Captain Lydiard,
had left Falmouth on Christmas Eve for her station off Brest as a
look-out ship for the Channel Fleet.

A gale from the W.S.W. sprang up, and after being buffeted about till
the 28th, with the wind increasing, the captain determined to run to
port. The first land they made was the Land's End, which they mistook
for the Lizard, and only discovered their mistake when the cry of
"Breakers ahead!" was heard from the man on the look-out. They were
now embayed, and in face of the terrible storm it was impossible to
work off, so both cables were let go. The _Anson_ rode to these till
the early morning of the 29th, when they parted, and the captain, in
order to save as many lives as possible, decided to beach her on the
sand off Loe Pool. A tremendous sea was running, and as she took the
beach only sixty yards from the bar, she was dashed broadside on, and
happily for the poor fellows on board, heeled landwards. Seas
mountains high rolled over her, sweeping everything before them. Then
her masts went by the board, her main mast forming a floating raft
from the ship almost to the shore, and over this scrambled through
the maddened waves most of those who were saved.


_From an oil painting by Opie the younger, reproduced by permission of
Mr. H. Trengrouse_]

It was a terrible sight to witness for the hundreds of spectators who
had by this time collected on the beach, but it was almost impossible
for them to render any assistance.

At last, when all hands seemed to have left the ship, two
stout-hearted Methodist local preachers--Mr. Tobias Roberts, of
Helston, and Mr. Foxwell, of Mullion--made an attempt to reach her, so
as to see if any one remained on board. They succeeded, and were soon
followed by others, who found several people, including two women and
as many children. The women and some of the men were safely conveyed
ashore, but the children were drowned. There were altogether upwards
of a hundred drowned, including the captain, who stood by the frigate
to the last. The exact number was never known, as many of the soldiers
deserted on reaching the shore.

The survivors salved a good deal from the wreck, amongst which were
watches, jewellery, and many articles of considerable value. They were
placed all together in a bedroom of the old inn at Porthleven, with a
soldier with drawn sword on guard. One of the beams that bent under
such an unusual weight may be seen bowed to this day. A local militia
sergeant was soon afterwards sent to Helston in charge of a wagon-load
of these valuable goods, and when half-way to his destination was
accosted by a Jew, who offered him £50 in exchange for his load. "Here
is my answer," said the sergeant, presenting a loaded pistol at his
head, and the fellow hurriedly took his departure.

Much indignation was raised at the time by the way in which the victims
of the disaster were buried. They were bundled in heaps into large pits
dug in the cliff above, without any burial service being performed over
them. It was customary everywhere at that time for all bodies washed
ashore to be interred by the finder at the nearest convenient spot. But
as a result of the indecent methods of burial of the _Anson_ victims, an
Act of Parliament was framed by Mr. Davies Gilbert, and passed on 18th
June, 1808, providing "suitable interment in churchyards and parochial
burying-grounds" for all bodies cast up by the sea.

The _Anson_ was a sixty-four gun frigate cut down to a forty-four, and
had seen much service. Among many fights, she figured in Lord Rodney's
action on 12th April, 1782, formed part of the fleet which repulsed
the French squadron in an attempt to land in Ireland in 1796, helped
in the seizure of the French West Indies in 1803, and in 1807 took
part in the capture of Curaçao from the Dutch. It was not long after
her return from this latter place that she left Falmouth for the
cruise on which she met her fate.[8]

In 1902 the hull of the _Anson_, after having been submerged for
ninety-five years, came to light again. She was found by Captain
Anderson of the West of England Salvage Company, whose attention had
been directed to the wreck by a Porthleven fisherman. Unfortunately at
the time the weather was so stormy that Captain Anderson could not
proceed with any efforts of salvage, and with the exception of one
visit of inspection the interesting relic was left untouched. But in
April, 1903, with a bright sky and a light breeze from the north-east,
he proceeded to the spot and inspected the remains. The hull of the
vessel was not intact, and several guns were lying alongside. One of
these, about 10 ft. 6 in. long, Captain Anderson secured and hoisted
on to the deck of the _Green Castle_ by means of a winch, and
afterwards conveyed it to Penzance. It was much encrusted. Amongst the
mass of _débris_ also raised were several cannon-balls.

But to return to Henry Trengrouse, who had stood on the beach watching
the wreck, the rescue of some and the perishing of others.

Drenched with rain and spray, and sick at heart, Henry Trengrouse
returned to his home, and was confined to his bed for nearly a week,
having contracted a severe cold. The terrible scene had made an
indelible impression on his mind, and he could not, even if he had
wished it, drive the thought away. Night and day he mused on the means
whereby some assistance could be given to the shipwrecked, some
communication be established between the vessel and the shore.

He was a great friend of Samuel Drew, whose life was devoted to
metaphysics, and it was perhaps the contrast in the two minds that
made them friends--one an idealist, the other practical.

Trengrouse had a small competence, besides his trade, and he devoted
every penny that he could spare to experiments, first in the
construction of a lifeboat, but without satisfactory results.

The King's birthday was celebrated at Helston with fireworks on the
green; and as Henry Trengrouse looked up at the streak of fire rushing
into the darkness above and scattering a shower of stars, it occurred to
him, Why should not a rocket, instead of wasting itself in an exhibition
of fireworks, do service and become a means of carrying a rope to a
vessel among the breakers? When a communication has been established
between the wreck and the shore, above the waves, it may become an
aerial passage along which those in distress may pass to safety.

Something of the same idea had already occurred to Lieutenant John Bell
in 1791, but his proposal was that a shot with a chain attached to it
should be discharged from a mortar. Captain George William Manby had his
attention drawn to this in February, 1807, and in August of the same
year exhibited some experiments with his improved life-preserving mortar
to the members of the Suffolk House Humane Society. By the discharge of
the mortar a barbed shot was to be flung on to the wreck, with a line
attached to the shot. By means of this line a hawser could be drawn from
the shore to the ship, and along it would be run a cradle in which the
shipwrecked persons could be drawn to land.

Manby's mortar was soon abandoned as cumbrous and dangerous; men were
killed during tests; notwithstanding which he was awarded, £2000. The
great merit of Trengrouse's invention was that the rocket was much
lighter than a shot from a mortar, and was, moreover, more portable,
and there was a special line manufactured for it that would not kink,
nor would it snap, because the velocity of the rocket increased
gradually, whereas that from a discharge of a mortar was sudden and so
great that the cord was frequently ruptured.

The distinctive feature of Trengrouse's apparatus consisted of "a
section of a cylinder, which is fitted to the barrel of a musket by a
bayonet socket; a rocket with a line attached to its stick is so
placed on it that its priming receives fire immediately from the
barrel";[9] whereas a metal mortar could not be conveyed to the cliff
or shore opposite the scene of disaster without being drawn in a
conveyance by horses, and where there was no road with the utmost
difficulty dragged over hedges and ploughed fields by men. Not only
so, but a shot discharged by Captain Manby's mortar was liable to
endanger life. Wrecks generally happened in the dark, and then the
shot would not be visible to those on the wreck. But Trengrouse's
rocket would indicate its track by the trail of fire by which it was
impelled, and could be fired from either the ship or the shore.

Trengrouse expended £3000 on his experiments, and sacrificed to this
one object--that of saving life--his capital, his business, and his
health. He cut off the entail on Priske, which had belonged to the
family for several generations, and sold it to enable him to pursue
his experiments. There was much that was pathetic in his life: there
were the long and frequent journeys to London from Helston, four days
by coach, sometimes in mid-winter and in snowstorms, with the object
of inducing successive Governments to adopt the rocket apparatus,
meeting only with discouragement. Nor was this all. After all his own
means had been exhausted, he received a legacy of £500 under a
brother's will, and this sum he at once devoted to further endeavours
with H.M. Government for the general adoption of his rocket apparatus.

The Russian ambassador now stepped forward and invited Trengrouse to
S. Petersburg, where he assured him that, instead of rebuffs, he would
experience only the consideration due to him for his inventions. But
Trengrouse's reply was, "My country first"; and that country allowed
him, after the signal services he had rendered to humanity--to die

His original design was to supply every ship with a rocket apparatus;
as vessels were almost invariably wrecked _before_ the wind, the line
might the more easily be fired from a ship than from the shore.

Trengrouse once met Sir William Congreve, who also claimed to be the
inventor of the war-rocket; and Trengrouse said to him in the course
of their discussion, "As far as I can see, Sir William, your rocket is
designed to _destroy_ life; mine is to save life; and I do claim to be
the first that ever thought of utilizing a rocket for the saving of
human lives."[10]

Trengrouse moreover invented the cork jacket or "life preserver." This
was a success, and has never been improved on. It has been the means
of saving many hundreds of lives. He also built a model of a lifeboat,
that could not be sunk, and was equal to the present lifeboats of the
Royal Lifeboat Association in all respects except the "self-righting"
principle. It was not until February 28th, 1818, after many journeys
to London, and much ignorant and prejudiced objection that he had to
contend against, such as is found so usual among Government officials,
that Trengrouse was able to exhibit his apparatus before Admiral Sir
Charles Rowley. A committee was appointed, and on March 5th it
reported favourably on the scheme.

In the same year the Committee of the Elder Brethren of Trinity House
reported in high terms on the invention, and recommended that "no
vessel should be without it."

Thereupon Government began to move slowly; in the House the matter was
discussed and haggled over. One speaker exclaimed: "You are guilty of
sinful negligence in this matter, for while you are parleying over
this invention and this important subject, thousands of our fellow-men
are losing their lives."

[Illustration: THE WRECK OF THE "ANSON"

_From a sketch by H. Trengrouse_]

At last Government ordered twenty sets of the life-preserving rockets,
but afterwards resolved on making the apparatus itself, and paid
Trengrouse the sum of £50, the supposed amount of profit he would have
made on the order. Fifty pounds was all his ungrateful country could
afford to give him. In 1821, however, the Society of Arts pronounced
favourably on his apparatus, and presented Trengrouse with their
silver medal and a grant of thirty guineas.

Through the Russian ambassador, the then Czar sent him a diamond ring,
in consideration of the great advantage his apparatus had proved in
shipwrecks on the Baltic and the Black Sea. Even this he was constrained
to pledge, that he might devote the money to his darling project.

With these acknowledgments of his services he had to rest contented;
but ever the news of lives having been saved through his invention was
a solace to an even and contented mind.

Henry Trengrouse died at Helston on February 19th, 1854.

As he lay on his death-bed with his face to the wall, he turned about,
and with one of his bright, hopeful smiles said to his son, "If you live
to be as old as I am, you will find my rocket apparatus all along our
shores." They were his last words; in a few minutes he had passed away.

The rocket apparatus is along the shores at 300 stations, but not, as
he had hoped, on board the vessels. He had despaired of obtaining
that, yet that is what he aimed at principally.

In April, 1905, owing to the loss of the _Kyber_ on the Land's End
coast, questions were asked in the House of Commons relative to
wireless telegraphy between the lighthouses and the coast. On that
occasion one of the most valuable suggestions was made by a shipping
expert, who considered that the Board of Trade should make it
compulsory that a light rocket apparatus should be carried by all
vessels, so that, when in distress, if near the coast, the crew could
send a rocket ashore. This marine engineer said: "On shore the rockets
must be fired by practised men, such as coastguards, because they have
to strike a small object; but on a vessel they have only to hit the
land, and if people are about, the line will quickly be seized and
made fast. At present, too, horses and wagons have to be used, and
sometimes it is difficult to find a road leading down to the spot from
which help must be rendered. Probably for twenty pounds an appliance
could be kept on board a vessel which would send a line ashore in less
time and with more certainty than at present. When a vessel is being
blown ashore, I have seen rockets fired from the land return like a
boomerang to the cliff on account of the strength of the gale. In my
judgment, mariners should assist in their own salvation."

On this Mr. H. Trengrouse, grandson of the inventor, wrote to the
_Cornishman_, 24th April, 1905:--

"Your suggestion in the _Cornishman_ of the 15th instant ... that all
vessels should be compelled by the Board of Trade to carry this
apparatus, is very practical, and should, and I trust may, be soon

"It may interest your readers to learn that the inventor, my
grandfather, the late Mr. Henry Trengrouse, of Helston, urged this
upon successive Governments without any encouragement whatever, and I
on two occasions have also suggested it to the principals of the
Marine Department of the Board of Trade, who have informed me of a
strong opinion always entertained, that on the occasion of wreck,
there would probably not be any one on board possessing sufficient
knowledge of the use of the apparatus to render it of any value; which
seems very strange indeed, and might be readily obviated by, at least,
the captain and officers of vessels being instructed in its
use--surely simple enough. My grandfather devoted much time to make it
so; and the advantage of an appliance for use on board is so palpable,
and the loss of life during many years by its absence so considerable,
that it is extremely gratifying to observe a renewed and increasing
interest in the subject, which I hope, Sir, as you state, being so
important, may now be kept to the fore.

                                    "I am, Sir,
                                        "Your obedient servant,
                                                   "H. TRENGROUSE."

That this admirable letter to the _Cornishman_ should at the time
produce no effect on the Board of Trade is what every one who has had
any dealings with that Board would predicate.

At length, however, some goading has roused that obstructive, inert body
into inquiring into this matter. I read in the _Daily Express_ of 27th
January, 1908: "The question whether the carrying of rockets for
projecting lifelines should be made compulsory on all British ships is
being investigated by a special committee appointed by the Board of
Trade. One witness before the committee said that he had seen fifty men
drowned within sixty yards of the shore in a gale, and that all might
have been saved had the vessel been equipped with line-throwing guns."

So--after the lapse of eighty-six or seven years, and the loss of
thousands of lives that might have been saved had not the Board of
Trade been too inert to move in the matter--an inquiry has once more
been instituted. Let us hope that after this inquiry the matter may
not be allowed to fall again into neglect.

That the rocket _fired from the shore_ has been already the means of
saving lives, the following report on it made to the Board of Trade,
for the year ending 30th June, 1907, will testify:--

"During the year ended as above, 268 lives were saved by means of the
life-saving apparatus, that is to say, 127 more than the number saved
by the same means during the previous year, and 67 more than the
average for the previous ten years. The total number of lives saved by
the life-saving apparatus since 1870 is 8924. This number does not
include the large number of lives saved by means of ropes and other
assistance from the shore."

After the loss of the _Berlin_, belonging to the Great Eastern
Company, in 1907, the attention of the Dutch Government was called to
the advantage of having the rocket apparatus _on board ship_, and
legal instructions were drafted, making it obligatory upon all vessels
of over two hundred tons gross to carry rocket apparatus.

Henry Trengrouse's noble life was a failure in so far as that it
brought him no pecuniary results--covered him with disappointment,
reduced him to poverty. He received, in all, for his life's work, and
the sacrifice of fortune and the landed estate of his ancestors, £50
from Government, £31 10_s._ from the Society of Arts, and a diamond
ring that in his time of need he was constrained to pawn, and which he
was never able to redeem.

Russell Lowell puts these lines into the mouth of Cromwell, in his
_Glance behind the Curtain_:--

          My God, when I read o'er the bitter lives
          Of men whose eager hearts are quite too great
          To beat beneath the cramp'd mode of the day,
          And see them mocked at by the world they love,
          Haggling with prejudice for pennyworths
          Of that reform which this hard toil will make
          The common birthright of the age to come--
          When I see _this_, spite of my faith in God,
          I marvel how their hearts bear up so long;
          Nor could they, but for this same prophecy,
          This inward feeling of the glorious end.

Henry Trengrouse married Mary, daughter of Samuel and Mary Jenken,
19th November, 1795. She was born at S. Erth, 9th September, 1772, and
died at Helston, 27th March, 1863. By her he had one son only who
reached manhood, Nicholas Trevenen Trengrouse, who died at the age of
seventy-four; and one daughter, Jane, who married Thomas Rogers,
solicitor, of Helston; Emma, who married a Mr. Matthews; and two, Mary
and Anne, who died unmarried, the first at the age of eighty, the
latter at that of ninety-four.

To Mr. Henry Trengrouse, the son of Mr. Nicholas T. Trengrouse, I am
indebted for much information relative to his grandfather, as also to
a lecture, never published, delivered in 1894 by the Rev. James
Ninnis, who says in a letter to Mr. H. Trengrouse, junior: "Most of
the detail I have taken from notes of my father, dated 1878; he got
them from conversation with your respected father."

Mr. J. Ninnis' grandfather had stood on the beach by the side of Henry
Trengrouse, watching the wreck of the _Anson_.

A portrait of the inventor, by Opie the younger, is in the possession
of the family at Helston, as is also the picture of the wreck of the
_Anson_ sketched at the time by Mr. Trengrouse. For permission to
reproduce both I am indebted to the courtesy of the grandson of the


[8] _Morning Leader_, 29th October, 1902.

[9] There is an engraving of it in the _Annual Report of the Society
of Arts_ for 1821. The life-preserving rocket was exhibited on the
Serpentine before the Duke of Clarence, afterwards King William IV, on
May 28th, 1819. People looked on as at some firework display, and
nothing came of it.

[10] Trengrouse's apparatus fitted into a case 4 ft. 3 in. long by 1
ft. 6 in. wide.

                           THE BOTATHAN GHOST

IN April, 1720, Daniel Defoe published his _History of the Life and
Adventures of Mr. Duncan Campbell_. In August a second edition was
called for, of which some copies included a pamphlet that had been
printed in June: "Mr. Campbell's Pacquet, for the Entertainment of
Gentlemen and Ladies," and this "Pacquet" contains "A Remarkable
Passage of an Apparition, related by the Rev. Dr. Ruddle, of
Launceston, in Cornwall, in the year 1665."

It has been assumed that this ghost story was a bit of invention of
the lively imagination of Defoe. Mrs. Bray in her _Trelawny of
Trelawne_ stated that the story could not be true, as no such a name
as Dingley, which was that of the ghost, was known in Launceston. As
it happened, James Dingley had been instituted to the vicarage of the
very parish of South Petherwin, in which the ghost appeared, in the
same reign in which the apparition occurred, and he assisted Ruddle in
his ministrations in Launceston, and the name occurs to this day in
the town and neighbourhood. In fact, Dingley, Pethebridge, and Dingley
are bankers there.

In the same heedless fashion Cyrus Redding wrote in 1842 that the
story was "told with so much simplicity of truth that it is difficult
to believe that the tale is not, as novel writers say, 'founded on
fact.'" And he goes on to state: "No clergyman of the name of Ruddle
had been incumbent in Launceston for two hundred years past, at least
in S. Mary's Church." Yet the monument of Parson Ruddle is in the
church, and he occupied the living from 1663 to his death in 1699.

[Illustration: "PARSON RUDALL"

_From a painting in the possession of the Rev. S. Baring Gould_]

Again, Samuel Drew, in his _History of Cornwall_, blunders as to the
locality, making the apparition appear in the parish of Little
Petherick, near Padstow.

Next Mr. Hawker, of Morwenstow, fabricated a "Diurnall" of Ruddle,
which adopted Drew's error, and by altering the date made the story as
given by him disagree with the facts as they stand upon record.

The "Remarkable Passage of an Apparition" was no invention of Defoe;
it was a genuine narrative written by the hand of John Ruddle himself.
This has been conclusively demonstrated by the late Mr. Alfred Robbins
in the _Cornish Magazine_, 1898.

John Ruddle, M.A. of Caius College, Cambridge, was instituted to the
vicarage of Altarnon on May 24th, 1662; and the incumbency of S. Mary
Magdalen, Launceston, becoming vacant by the ejection of the
Independent intrusive pastor, Ruddle was appointed to it, and "began
his ministry at Launceston on y^e Feast of Our Saviour's Nativity,
1663." At the same time he received the appointment to the Launceston
Free School as master.

Now it so fell out that he was invited on the 20th June, 1665, to
preach a funeral sermon on the occasion of the burial of John Eliot at
South Petherwin. John was the son of Edward Eliot, of Trebursey, who
was the third son of Sir John Eliot, who died in the Tower of London.

After the conclusion of the service, Parson Ruddle was leaving the
church, when an "ancient gentleman" addressed him, and, Ruddle says,
"With an unusual importunity almost forced against my humour to see
his house that night; nor could I have rescued myself from his
kindness, had not Mr. Eliot interposed and pleaded title to me for
the whole of the day." However, Ruddle promised to call on the old
gentleman, whose name was Bligh, and whose house was Botathan.

The Blighs were an ancient family, well connected and owning a good
estate, but Botathan was not a house of any pretence, and it is now
the dwelling of a farmer, and has not the appearance of having been
the residence of a county family.

On the following Monday John Ruddle went to Botathan, where he partook
of an early dinner, and a neighbouring parson had been invited to meet

"After dinner this brother of the coat undertook to show me the
gardens, when, as I was walking, he gave me the first discovery of
what was mainly intended in all this treat and compliment. First he
began to tell the infortunity of the family in general, and then gave
an instance in the youngest son. He related what a hopeful, sprightly
lad he lately was, and how melancholic and sottish he was now grown.
Then did he with much passion lament that his ill-humour should so
incredibly subdue his reason; for, says he, the poor boy believes
himself to be haunted with ghosts, and is confident that he meets with
an evil spirit in a certain field about half a mile from this place as
often as he goes that way to school.

"In the midst of our twaddle the old gentleman and his lady came up to
us. Upon their approach, and pointing me to the arbour, the parson
renews the relation to me; and they (the parents of the youth)
confirmed what he said, and added many minute circumstances. In fine,
they all three desired my thoughts and advice in the affair."

Neither the parents nor the parson who made this communication
believed that the boy saw anything; they shrewdly suspected that he
was lazy, and made the apparition an excuse for not going to school.

Ruddle, however, saw the boy, and was convinced of his sincerity. "He
told me with all naked freedom, and a flood of tears, that his friends
were unkind and unjust to him, neither to believe nor pity him; and
that if any man (making a bow to me) would but go with him to the
place, he might be convinced that the thing was real.

"'This woman which appears to me,' saith he, 'lived a neighbour here
to my father, and died about eight years since; her name, Dorothy
Dingley. She never speaks to me, but passeth by hastily, and always
leaves the footpath to me, and she commonly meets me twice or three
times in the breadth of the field.

"'It was about two months before I took notice of it, and though the
shape of the face was in my memory, yet I did not recall the name of
the person, but I did suppose it was some woman who lived there about,
and had frequent occasion that way. Nor did I imagine anything to the
contrary before she began to meet me constantly, morning and evening,
and always in the same field (the Higher Brown Quartils), and
sometimes twice or thrice in the breadth of it.

"'The first time I took notice of her was about a year since, and when
I first began to suspect it to be a ghost, I had courage enough not to
be afraid, but kept it to myself a good while, and only wondered very
much about it. I did often speak to it, but never had a word in
answer. Then I changed my way, and went to school the under Horse
Road, and then she always met me in the narrow lane, between the
Quarry Park and the Nursery, which was worse. At length I began to be
terrified at it, and prayed continually that God would either free me
from it or let me know the meaning of it. Night and day, sleeping and
waking, the shape was ever running in my mind, when, by degrees, I
grew pensive, inasmuch that it was taken notice of by all our family;
whereupon, being urged to it, I told my brother William of it, and he
privately acquainted my father and mother, and they kept it to
themselves for some time.

"'The success of this discovery was only this: they did sometimes
laugh at me, sometimes chide me, but still commanded me to keep to my
school, and put such fopperies out of my head. I did accordingly go to
school often, but always met the woman by the way.'"

When Parson Ruddle had heard this story he promised the boy to go with
him next morning to the field, and went with the lad to the hall,
whither the parents and the parson, the Rev. Samuel Williams, came to
meet them from the parlour. They began at once to importune Ruddle
about the interview and to pass remarks on the boy, who fled from them
to his own room. The vicar of Launceston begged them to restrain their
curiosity till he had made further investigation into the matter.

"The next morning, before five o'clock, the lad was in my chambers,
and very brisk. I arose and went with him. The field he led me to I
guessed to be twenty acres, in an open country, and about three
furlongs from any house. We went into the field, and had not gone
above a third part before the spectrum, in the shape of a woman, with
all the circumstances he had described her to me the day before, met
us and passed by. I was a little surprised at it, and though I had
taken up a firm resolution to speak to it, yet I had not the power,
nor indeed durst I look back; yet I took care not to show any fear to
my pupil and guide, and therefore telling him that I was satisfied in
the truth of his complaint, we walked to the end of the field and
returned, nor did the ghost meet us that time above once.

"At our return the gentlewoman watched to speak with me. I gave her a
convenience, and told her that my opinion was that her son's complaint
was not to be slighted, yet that my judgment in his case was not
settled. I gave her caution that the thing might not take wind, lest
the whole country should ring with what we had yet no assurance of.

"In this juncture of time I had business which would admit no delay,
wherefore I went to Launceston that evening, but promised to see them
again next week. Yet I was prevented by an occasion which pleaded a
sufficient excuse. However, my mind was upon the adventure. I studied
the case, and about three weeks after went again, resolving, by the
help of God, to see the utmost.

"The next morning, the 27th day of July, 1665, I went to the haunted
field by myself, and walked the breadth of the field without any
encounter. I returned and took the other walk, and then the spectrum
appeared to me, much about the same place where I saw it before, when
the young gentleman was with me. In my thoughts it moved swifter than
the time before, and about ten feet distant from me on my right hand,
insomuch that I had not time to speak, as I had determined with myself

"The evening of this day, the parents, the son, and myself being in
the chamber where I lay, I propounded to them our going all together
to the place next morning, and after some asseveration that there was
no danger in it, we all resolved upon it. The morning being come, lest
we should alarm the servants, they went under the pretence of seeing a
field of wheat, and I took my horse and fetched a compass another
way, and so met at the stile we had appointed.

"Thence we all four walked leisurely into the Quartils, and had passed
above half the field before the ghost made appearance. It then came
over the stile just before us, and moved with that swiftness that by
the time we had gone six or seven steps it passed by. I immediately
turned head and ran after it, with the young man by my side; we saw it
pass over the stile by which we entered, but no farther. I stepped
upon the hedge at one place, he at another, but could discern nothing;
whereas I dare aver that the swiftest horse in England could not have
conveyed himself out of sight in that short space of time. Two things
I observed in this day's appearance. (1) That a spaniel dog, who
followed the company unregarded, did bark and run away as the spectrum
passed by; whence it is easy to conclude that it was not our fear or
fancy which made the apparition. (2) That the motion of the spectrum
was not by steps and moving of the feet, but a kind of gliding, as
children upon ice or a boat down a swift river.

"But to proceed. This ocular evidence clearly convinced, but strangely
frightened, the old gentleman and his wife, who knew this Dorothy
Dingley in her lifetime, were at her burial, and now plainly saw her
features in this present apparition.

"The next morning, being Thursday, I went out very early by myself, and
walked for about an hour's space in meditation and prayer in the field
next adjoining the Quartils. Soon after five I stepped over the stile
into the disturbed field, and had not gone above thirty or forty paces
before the ghost appeared at the farther stile. I spake to it with a
loud voice, whereupon it approached, but slowly, and when I came near
it moved not. I spake again, and it answered, in a voice neither very
audible nor intelligible. I was not in the least terrified, and
therefore persisted until it spake again and gave me satisfaction. But
the work could not be finished at this time; wherefore the same evening,
an hour after sunset, it met me again near the same place, and after a
few words on each side it quickly vanished, and neither doth appear
since, nor ever will more to any man's disturbance. The discourse in the
morning lasted about a quarter of an hour.

"These things are true, and I know them to be so, with as much
certainty as eyes and ears can give me; and until I can be persuaded
that my senses do deceive me about their proper object, and by that
persuasion deprive myself of the strongest inducement to believe the
Christian religion, I must and will assert that these things in this
paper are true."

It must be noted that Defoe in his printed account omits the names of
the family of Bligh, and that he changes Dorothy Dingley into Mrs.
Veale. Parson Ruddle's original MS. is not in existence; it was
probably given to Defoe; but a copy is preserved made by the son of
the Rev. John Ruddle. Defoe was in Launceston acting as a spy for the
minister Harley in August, 1705, and at that time he must have got
hold of the MS. After the signature "John Ruddle" at the end of the
narrative and the date is the sentence: "This is a copy of w^t I found
written by my father and signed John Ruddle. Taken by me, William
Ruddle," who had become vicar of South Petherwin in 1695, and who
became subsequently incumbent also of S. Thomas-by-Launceston. This
copy bears the following attestation: "The readers may observe y^t I
borrowed the remarkable passage of y^e grandson of John Ruddle who had
it from his Uncle William Ruddle. I think I'm exact in its
transcription. I well know the s^d John Ruddle to have had (and I
daresay deserved) the character of a learned and eminent Divine, and I
also knew his son y^e sayd William Ruddle, a Divine whose character
was so bright y^t I have no room to add to its lustre, and I hereby
certify y^t I copyed this from y^e very hand-writing of the sayd
William Ruddle. _Quinto die Februarii Anno Dni_, 1730. James Wakeman."

As Mr. Robbins says: "The completeness of the body of proof of the
Ruddle authorship leaves nothing therefore to be desired."

Parson John Ruddle eventually became prebend of Exeter, and held the
vicarage of Altarnon along with that of Launceston to his death.

Ruddle does not state that the boy Bligh was his pupil at Launceston
Free School, but one does not see to what other school he can have
gone, and the readiness with which the lad opened his heart to him
leads to the notion that they had some previous acquaintance. His way
to Launceston would be over the common, on which stand three barrows,
to the road at Penfoot, where he would strike the road. When he
endeavoured to avoid the ghost he took the Under Horse Road between
Quarry Park and the Nursery. The Quarry is still visible with a pool
in it, and a stream flowing into it that rises on the moor where he
saw the ghost, and Under Horse Road still bears its name. The lad
endeavoured to take a short cut, though not as short as across the
Higher Brown Quartils, to reach the Launceston road without having to
go through South Petherwin village.

Parson Ruddle does not give the Christian name of the boy who saw the
ghost, and we are thrown into perplexity at once.

The "ancient gentleman" may have been Thomas Bligh of Botathan, Esq.,
but he was aged no more than fifty-three. Colonel Vivian's pedigree of
the Blighs in his _Visitation of Cornwall_ is most unsatisfactory.

Thomas Bligh was buried at South Petherwin, April 10th, 1692. There is
no entry in Vivian's pedigree of Walter Bligh, gentleman, who was
buried January 29th, 1667-8. Besides, there are many entries of an
Edmund Bligh and Katherine, his wife, and their children. Thomas Bligh
seems to have lived at one time at S. Martin's-by-Looe. Dr. Lee in his
_Glimpses of the Supernatural_ calls Dorothy Dingley, Dorothy Durant;
but on what authority I do not know. There is an entry in the South
Petherwin register of the burial of Dorothy Durant, widow, 1st May,
1677, but according to the story of the boy, Dorothy Dingley died in
or about 1657. Unfortunately the South Petherwin registers do not go
back beyond August, 1656, but there is no entry in them in 1656 or
1657 of the burial of Dorothy Dingley.

The Dingleys had been settled in Lezant and Linkinhorne from 1577, and
owned the place Hall in the latter parish; but they had connections in
Worcestershire; and Dorothy was the youngest daughter of Francis
Dingley, baptized at Cropthorne, in the latter county, in 1596. She
married Richard, son of George Durant, of Blockly, Worcestershire. As
no further trace of her can be found in the register there, it is not
unfair to suppose that having kinsfolk in Cornwall she may have
journeyed there, and both were buried at South Petherwin, Dorothy
Durant, as already stated, in 1677. She was then aged eighty-seven.
She cannot have been the ghost. But was the ghost that of her mother,
a Dorothy, who came to South Petherwin with her, and died there about
the year 1655? We cannot tell, as we do not know her mother's
Christian name. Dr. Lee clearly confused the Dorothy Durant with the
Dorothy Dingley, the ghost.

The Rev. P. T. Pulman, vicar of South Petherwin, writes to me: "In
December, 1896, a labourer died here, aged seventy-two. For upwards of
forty years he had worked at Botathan. He told me that one of the
fields was called the Higher Brown Park (he did not know the name of
Quartells) until the field was ploughed up. He told me there was a
little path in it which they called old Dorothy Dinglet's [_sic_]
path, and that they used to frighten the farm apprentices with stories
about her, but he had never met her himself. The farm has been sold of
recent years. There is a part of the old house left used for a cider
cellar. They call it Dorothy Dingley's chamber."

The Rev. James Dingley was vicar of South Petherwin from 1682 until
1695. He was born 1655, just ten years before the apparition was seen
by young Bligh.

Authorities: A. Robbins, "A Cornish Ghost Story," in the _Cornish
Magazine_, 1898; A. Robbins, _Launceston Past and Present_, 1889. The
portrait of the Rev. John Ruddle is in my possession. The descendants
of Parson Ruddle or Rudall are still on the land, but are in a humble

                           JOHN COUCH ADAMS,

Thomas Adams was a small tenant farmer in the parish of Laneast, at
Lidcott, renting under John King Lethbridge, Esq., of Tregeare, in
Laneast. He married Tabitha Knill Grylls, of Stoke Climsland, who
inherited a very little land in this latter parish.

Laneast lies on the Inny River--that is to say, the village with its
church occupies the southern slope of Laneast Down that falls to this
beautiful stream. But Lidcott lies on the north side of the down, that
rises to eight hundred feet above the sea, one long swelling mass of
moor brown with heather, save when in August it blushes like a modest
girl, the heather all a-rose with flower.

For three miles the highway from Camelford to Launceston crosses this
moor, one white strip drawn through a mass of umber. At night the
sheep that grazed on the down would lie on the warm road, and many a
time have the coach-horses stumbled over them in the night.

On this road, about the year 546, S. Samson was pursuing his way from
Padstow, where he had landed, to Southill. He had with him a wagon
drawn by horses he had brought with him from Ireland, and as he
proceeded over the down he was aware of music and dancing on the
left-hand side of the road in the direction of Tregeare, and he found
that the heathen people were having a festival about a rude upright
stone. He stopped, harangued them, condemned their idolatrous
practice, and with his own hand cut a cross upon the stone.

It is possible that this is the very rude stone cross that still
stands on the slope of the moor above Lidcott.

John Couch, son of Thomas Adams and Tabitha, was born at Lidcott on
5th January, 1819, but no notice of his baptism occurs in the parish
register at Laneast. Possibly he may have been taken to Egloskerry.

He received his early education at a dame's school in his native
parish; but was early employed by his father to tend the sheep on
Laneast Down. It was then and there, on that great upland stretch of
moor, with a vast horizon about him, that, lying in the heather and
looking up into the sky, the mystery of the heavenly firmament laid
hold of him. He soon learned to distinguish the planets from the fixed
stars; he watched the rising and the setting of the constellations,
Charles's Wain revolving nightly about the extremest star in what he
called the tail of the Plough; Orion with his twinkling belt and
curved sword, "louting on one knee."

To the west and south stood up against the evening glow the ridge of
the Bodmin Moors, Brown Willy, Rough Tor, Kilmar, and Caradon. To the
north nothing interrupted the view, for there lay the vast Atlantic;
and on stormy nights the boom of its waves might be heard from that
highway over the down. To the east and south-east the far-off range of
Dartmoor, blue as a vein in a girl's temple, on a summer day.

Many a chiding did John Couch get from his father for being out late
at night upon the moor; the old farmer was unable to understand what
the attraction was which drew the lad from home and from his
supper, to be out, either lying on the road or leaning against the
old granite cross, star-gazing. Happily Mrs. Adams had a simple book
on astronomy that had belonged to her father, and this her son Jack
devoured, and now he began to understand something of the motions of
the heavenly bodies. He established a sundial on the window-sill of
the parlour, and constructed out of cardboard an apparatus for taking
the altitude of the sun.

[Illustration: I C ADAMS A M

_From the collection of Mrs. Lewis Lane_]

His father, finding that his inclinations were not for farm work, sent
him to study with a relative of his mother, the Rev. P. Couch Grylls,
who had a school at Devonport, but later moved to Saltash. All his
spare time John Couch spent in reading astronomical works, which he
obtained from the library of the Mechanics' Institute; he drew maps of
constellations and computed celestial phenomena. A day long to be
remembered by him as one of the happiest in his life was that in which
he obtained a look through a telescope at the moon. "Why," he
exclaimed, "they have Brown Willy and Rough Tor up there!"

His account of a solar eclipse viewed at Devonport through a small
spyglass got into print in a London paper. After three weeks' watching
he caught sight of Halley's Comet on 16th October, 1839.

His father now with considerable effort arranged to send him to the
University of Cambridge, and he entered S. John's College as a poor
sizar in October, 1839; he graduated as Senior Wrangler in 1843, and
was first Smith's prizeman, and soon elected Fellow and appointed
tutor of his college.

At the age of twenty-two he was struck with the disturbance in the
course of the planet Uranus, and he perceived that this must be due to
the attraction possessed by some other planet, as yet unseen and
unsuspected, that produced these perturbations. How this led to the
discovery of the planet Neptune shall be told from the _Reminiscences_
of Caroline Fox:--

"1847, October 7th.--Dined at Carclew, and spent a very interesting
evening. We met Professor Adams, the Bullers, the Lord of the Isles,
and others. Adams is a quiet-looking man, with a broad forehead, a
mild face, and an amiable and expressive mouth. I sat by him at
dinner, and by general and dainty approaches got at the subject on
which one most wished to hear him speak. He began very blushingly, but
went on to talk in most delightful fashion, with large and luminous
simplicity, of some of the vast mathematical facts with which he is so
conversant. The idea of the reversed method of reasoning, from an
unknown to a known, with reference to astronomical problems dawned on
him when an undergraduate, with neither time nor mathematics to work
it out. The opposite system had always before been adopted. He, in
common with many others, conceived that there must be a planet to
account for the disturbances of Uranus; and when he had time he set to
work at the process, in deep, quiet faith that the fact was there, and
that his hitherto untried mathematical path was the one which must
reach it; that there were no anomalies in the universe, but that, even
here, and now, they could be explained and included in a higher law.
The delight of working it out was far more than any notoriety could
give, for his love of pure truth is evidently intense, an inward
necessity, unaffected by all the penny trumpets of the world. Well, at
length he fixed his point in space, and sent his mathematical evidence
to Airy, the Astronomer Royal, who locked the papers up in his desk,
partly from carelessness, partly from incredulity, for it seemed to
him impossible that a man whose name was unknown to him should strike
out a new path in mathematical science with any success. Moreover,
his theory was, that if there were a planet, it would not be
discovered for one hundred and sixty years; that is, until two
revolutions of Uranus had been accomplished. Then came Leverrier's
equally original, though many months younger, demonstration; Gull's
immediate verification of it by observation; and then the other
astronomers were all astir. Professor Adams speaks of those about whom
the English scientific world is so indignant in a spirit of Christian
philosophy, exactly in keeping with the mind of a man who has
discovered a planet. He speaks with warmest admiration of Leverrier,
specially of his exhaustive method of making out the orbits of the
comets, imagining and disproving all tracks but the right one--a work
of infinite labour. If the observer could make out distinctly but a
very small part of a comet's orbit, the mathematician would be able to
prove what its course had been through all time. They enjoyed being a
good deal together at the British Association Meeting at Oxford,
though it was unfortunate for the intercourse of the fellow-workers
that one could not speak French nor the other English. He had met with
very little mathematical sympathy, except from Challis, of the
Cambridge Observatory; but when his result was announced there was
noise enough and to spare. He was always fond of star-gazing and
speculation, and is already on the watch for another planet. Burnard
told us that when Professor Adams came from Cambridge to visit his
relatives in Cornwall he was employed to sell sheep for his father at
a fair. He is a most good son and neighbour, and watchful in the
performance of small acts of thoughtful kindness."

"1863, July 2nd.--Have just returned from a visit to Professor Adams at
Cambridge. He is so delightful in the intervals of business, enjoying
all things, large and small, with a boyish zest. He showed and
explained the calculating machine (French, not Babbage's), which saves
him much in time and brain, as it can multiply or divide ten figures
accurately. We came upon an admirable portrait of him at S. John's
College, before he accepted a Pembroke Fellowship and migrated thither."

The first mention of the name of Adams as the discoverer of Neptune was
by Sir John Herschel, in the _Athenæum_, on October 3rd, 1845. And a
letter from Professor Challis to that journal on 17th October described
in detail the transactions between Adams, Airy, and himself. Naturally
enough the French were highly incensed at the notion that an obscure
Englishman had forestalled Leverrier in the discovery, and Airy himself
was annoyed at his own negligence in not looking into the memoir by
Adams, and took up the matter with some personal feeling. It was
certainly startling to realize that the Astronomer Royal had had in his
possession data that would have enabled the planet to be discovered
nearly a year before Leverrier had, by a different course of argument
and calculation, arrived at the conclusion that there existed a planet
which was the disturbing element in the orbit of Uranus. As to Adams
himself, he had not a particle of conceit and pride in him; he did not
care to have his name proclaimed as the discoverer. Forty years later,
he said simply and characteristically that all he had wished for was
that English astronomers to whom he had communicated the result of his
calculations, pointing out the precise spot in the sky where a planet
was to be found, would have taken the trouble to turn their telescopes
upon that point and discover the planet, so that England might have had
the full credit of the discovery.

[Illustration: EX·LIBRIS


His long-suppressed investigation was not laid before the Royal
Astronomical Society till November 13th, 1846.

The publication, of course, stirred up much controversy, and the
scientific world was divided into Adamite and anti-Adamite factions.

Adams refused knighthood in 1847, and declined the office of
Astronomer Royal on Airy's retirement in 1881.

John Couch had a brother, William Grylls, also a man of some eminence
in the scientific world. He was born at Lidcott 12th February, 1836,
and became Professor of Natural Philosophy and of Astronomy in King's
College, London.

I was wont, when at Cambridge, to meet John Couch Adams at Professor
Challis', and also at the house of the Rev. Harvey Goodwin, afterwards
Bishop of Carlisle. Professor Adams took some notice of me, as coming
from his neighbourhood, though not on the Cornish side of the Tamar.
He was a small man, as simple as a child in many things. Indeed, he
struck me forcibly by his great modesty and sweetness of manner. He
loved a joke, and would laugh heartily over the very smallest. He
loved children, and would play with them in their little games with
infinite zest. Professor Glaisher, whom I also knew, wrote of him:
"Adams was a man of learning as well as a man of science. He was an
omnivorous reader, and his memory was exact and retentive. There were
few subjects upon which he was not possessed of accurate information.
Botany, geology, history, and divinity, all had their share of his
care and attention."

He was always happy to return to his humble father's farm; and after
he was a noted man, on one of these occasions the old man sent him
into Launceston with a drove of sheep to sell them in the market. He
complied cheerfully, but how he succeeded in selling them I have not
heard. This is the incident alluded to by Caroline Fox given above.

"The honours showered upon him," wrote Dr. Donald MacAlister, "left
him as they found him--modest, gentle, and sincere." He was not a man
who ever asserted himself.

He married in 1863 Eliza, daughter of Haliday Bruce, of Dublin. He
died of a sudden illness on January 21st, 1892, and was buried in S.
Giles' Churchyard, Cambridge.

Portraits were taken of him by Mogford in 1851, and by Herkomer in 1888;
both are in the Combination-room of St. John's College, Cambridge.

A biographical notice of him was prefixed by Professor Glaisher to his
scientific works, edited by W. G. Adams, in 1896-8.

See also A. De Morgan's _Budget of Paradoxes_, 1872, and the
_Mechanics' Magazine_, 1846.

                              DANIEL GUMB

All that is really known of this eccentric character is found in a
letter of J. B. to Richard Polwhele, dated September, 1814. His
correspondent says:--

"Daniel Gumb was born in the parish of Linkinhorne, in Cornwall, about
the commencement of the last century, and was bred a stone-cutter. In
the early part of his life he was remarkable for his love of reading
and a degree of reserve even exceeding what is observable in persons
of studious habits. By close application Daniel acquired, even in his
youth, a considerable stock of mathematical knowledge, and, in
consequence, became celebrated throughout the adjoining parishes.
Called by his occupation to hew blocks of granite on the neighbouring
commons, and especially in the vicinity of that great natural
curiosity called the Cheesewring, he discovered near this spot an
immense block, whose upper surface was an inclined plane. This, it
struck him, might be made the roof of a habitation such as he desired;
sufficiently secluded from the busy haunts of men to enable him to
pursue his studies without interruption, whilst it was contiguous to
the scene of his daily labour. Immediately Daniel went to work, and
cautiously excavating the earth underneath, to nearly the extent of
the stone above, he obtained a habitation which he thought
sufficiently commodious. The sides he lined with stone, cemented with
lime, whilst a chimney was made by perforating the earth at one side
of the roof. From the elevated spot on which stood this extraordinary
dwelling could be seen Dartmoor and Exmoor on the east, Hartland on
the north, the sea and the port of Plymouth on the south, and S.
Austell and Bodmin Hills on the west, with all the intermediate
beautiful scenery. The top of the rock which roofed his house served
Daniel for an observatory, where at every favourable opportunity he
watched the motions of the heavenly bodies, and on the surface of
which, with his chisel, he carved a variety of diagrams, illustrative
of the most difficult problems of Euclid, etc. These he left behind
him as evidences of the patience and ingenuity with which he
surmounted the obstacles that his station in life had placed in the
way of his mental improvement.

"But the choice of his house and the mode in which he pursued his
studies were not his only eccentricities. His house became his chapel
also; and he was never known to descend from the craggy mountain on
which it stood, to attend his parish church or any other place of

"Death, which alike seizes on the philosopher and the fool, at length
found out the retreat of Daniel Gumb, and lodged him in a house more
narrow than that which he had dug for himself."

Bond in his _Topographical and Historical Sketches of the Boroughs of
East and West Looe_, 1873, describes the habitation of Daniel Gumb as
seen by him in 1802:--

"When we reached Cheesewring--our guide first led us to the house of
Daniel Gumb (a stone-cutter), cut by him out of a solid rock of granite.
This artificial cavern may be about twelve feet deep and not quite so
broad; the roof consists of one flat stone of many tons weight;
supported by the natural rock on one side, and by pillars of small
stones on the other. How Gumb formed this last support is not easily
conceived. We entered with hesitation lest the covering should be our
gravestone. On the right-hand side of the door is 'D. Gumb,' with a date
engraved 1735 (or 3). On the upper part of the covering stone, channels
are cut to carry off the rain, probably to cause it to fall into a
bucket for his use; there is also engraved on it some geometrical device
formed by Gumb, as the guide told us, who also said that Gumb was
accounted a pretty sensible man. I have no hesitation in saying he must
have been a pretty eccentric character to have fixed on this place for
his habitation; but here he dwelt for several years with his wife and
children, several of whom were born and died here. His calling was that
of a stone-cutter, and he fixed himself on a spot where materials could
be met with to employ a thousand men for a thousand years."

[Illustration: _J. Farington, R.A., del. Letitia Byrne, sculp._


The Rev. Robert S. Hawker wrote an account of Daniel Gumb for _All the
Year Round_ in 1866, and this has been reprinted in _Footsteps of
Former Men in Cornwall_.

He pretends that when he visited the Cheesewring in 183-, there still
existed fragments of Daniel Gumb's "thoughts and studies still
treasured up in the existing families of himself and his wife." And he
gives transcripts from these, and also from what must have been a
diary. But Mr. Hawker embroidered facts with so much detail drawn from
his own fancy, that his statements have to be taken with a very large
pinch of salt.

It must be remembered, in his justification, that his stories of
Cornish Characters were intended as magazine articles to amuse, but
without any purpose of having them regarded as strictly biographical
and historical. They were brief historical romances, and were not
intended to be taken seriously.

I will give but one quotation, and the reader can judge for himself
therefrom whether it does not look like an extract "made in
Morwenstow." Mr. Hawker says:--

"On the fly-leaves of an old account book the following strange
statement appears: 'June 23rd, 1764. To-day, at bright noon, I looked
up and saw all at once a stranger standing on the turf, just above my
block. He was dressed like an old picture I remember in the windows of
S. Neot's Church, in a long brown garment, with a girdle; and his head
was uncovered and grizzled with long hair. He spoke to me, and he said
in a low, clear voice, "Daniel, that work is hard!" I wondered that he
should know my name, and I answered, "Yes, sir; but I am used to it
and don't mind it, for the sake of the faces at home." Then he said,
sounding his words like a psalm, "Man goeth forth to his work and to
his labour until the evening. When will it be night with Daniel Gumb?"
I began to feel queer; it seemed to me that there was something awful
about the unknown man. I even shook. Then he said again, "Fear
nothing. The happiest man in all the earth is he that wins his daily
bread by his daily sweat, if he will but fear God and do man no
wrong." I bent down my head like any one dumbfounded, and I greatly
wondered who this strange appearance could be. He was not like a
preacher, for he looked me full in the face; nor a bit like a parson,
for he seemed very meek and kind. I began to think it was a spirit,
only such ones always come by night, and here was I at noonday and at
work. So I made up my mind to drop my hammer and step up and ask his
name right out. But when I looked up he was gone, and that clear out
of my sight, on the bare, wide moor, suddenly.'"

Now, in the first place, no trace or tidings of these notes so
treasured up by the family are to be found in the parish of
Linkinhorne, to which Gumb and his wife belonged.

In the second place, Mr. Hawker makes Daniel remark that his
mysterious visitant was not like a Dissenting preacher because he
looked him straight in the face, and this is significantly like a
remark Hawker often made with regard to these gentry.

Another of these pretended notes refers to the finding of a fossil
fish embedded in granite. This alone suffices to wake suspicion that
the extracts are not genuine. Fossils never have been found in
granite, and never will be. But Hawker himself did not know this, as
he was totally ignorant of the first principles of geology.

                            LAURENCE BRADDON

Laurence Braddon, second son of Captain William Braddon, of Treworgy,
in S. Gennys, was called to the bar of the Middle Temple, and worked
at his profession diligently. He entered Parliament in 1651, but did
not attract special notice till the occasion of the suicide of the
Earl of Essex in the Tower, in 1683.

The people of England had been, and still were, greatly troubled about
the succession to the throne, in the event of the death of Charles II.
They had no mind to have the throne occupied by a Popish prince, and
several plots were hatched to prevent such a contingency. Monmouth,
with Lord Essex, Shaftesbury, Lord Howard of Escrick, Russell,
Algernon Sidney, and John Hampden, held meetings to found an
association to agitate and compel the King to assemble Parliament, to
take measures to secure a Protestant succession and the exclusion of
the Duke of York. On other points they disagreed. Monmouth hoped to
have his legitimacy established and to secure the crown for his own
brows. Sidney and Essex were for the establishment of a commonwealth.
Russell and Hampden intended only the exclusion of the Duke. As to
Lord Howard, he was a man of no principle, and his sole desire was to
fish in troubled waters and get out of them what he could.

More desperate spirits schemed plans of assassination, and a plot was
formed for murdering Charles and the Duke of York as they passed the
Rye House on the road from London to Newmarket, but there is no evidence
that the noble schemers had any knowledge of the Rye House Plot.

Both projects were betrayed, and though they were wholly distinct from
one another, the cruel ingenuity of the Crown lawyers blended them
into one.

The Earl of Shaftesbury fled to the Continent; Monmouth absconded;
Russell was committed to the Tower; Howard, who had concealed himself in
a chimney, was drawn forth by the heels, and to secure his neck betrayed
Essex, Sidney, and Hampden, who were all committed to the Tower.

Several of the conspirators in the Rye House Plot were sentenced to
death and at once executed. From their confessions it appeared that
the conspiracy had wide ramifications, and that a scheme of
insurrection throughout the country had been formed, and that steps
had been taken to organize it.

On the day upon which Lord Russell was brought to trial the Earl of
Essex was found in the closet of his chamber with his throat cut, and
this but just after a visit to the Tower by the King with the Duke of

An inquest was at once held, at which it was shown that Lord Essex was
a man of a despondent temper, that he had been lately in a lugubrious
mood, and in the depths of melancholy; and evidence was conclusive
that he had cut his own throat with a razor. The jury accordingly
found a verdict of _felo de se_.

Now it so fell out that on the following Sunday Laurence Braddon went
to visit a Mr. Evans, of the Custom House, at his country house at
Wanstead, in Essex, where was also a Mr. Halstead, and Evans was
telling Halstead that he had heard from a kinsman of his named
Edwards, also in the Customs, that his boy had been in the Tower yard
on the morning of the death of Lord Essex, and that he had seen a hand
thrust out of that nobleman's window, and a razor stained with blood
thrown down on the pavement of the yard. Next moment a maid-servant
wearing a white hood had run out, secured the razor and carried it
within, and that he had heard cries from within of "Murder! Murder!"

Braddon listened, walking up and down the room, as Evans told this
story. He was greatly excited by it, and thought that it pointed to a
murder having been committed, and that probably at the instigation of
the Duke of York.

Accordingly Braddon went next day to the quay and got Evans and
Edwards to meet him at the "Star" public-house and repeat the story.
It seemed that Edwards had two boys who were in Merchant Taylors'
School, and that one of their sisters was married and living in the
Tower. On the morning of the death of Lord Essex the lads were on
their way to school, when, passing the Tower, they heard that the King
and the Duke of York were in it, whereupon the younger, an urchin of
twelve or thirteen, gave his brother the slip, and ran in to see the
King and the Duke. After they had departed he remained in the yard
playing chuck-farthing with other boys, when he saw a hand thrust
forth from a window and throw a bloody razor into the court, and after
that a maid or woman in a white hood and stuff coat took it up and
went in, and then he heard a noise as of "Murder!" cried out. Braddon
then went to the house of Edwards to question the boy, who
prevaricated. Braddon believed that the child's mother and sister had
been at him, telling him that he was likely to get them all into
trouble if he persisted in his tale, and urged by them, professed that
he had told a lie.

The matter became common talk on the quay and the purlieus of the Tower.

Braddon had no great difficulty in finding a little girl named Jane
Lodeman, aged thirteen, who was in the same tale. This is what he took

"Jane Lodeman was in the Tower on Friday morning, 13th July last, and
standing almost over against the late Earl of Essex's lodging window,
she saw a hand cast a razor out of my lord's window, and immediately
upon this she heard shrieks, and that there was a soldier by my lord's
door, who cried out to those within the house that somebody should
come and take up a razor which was thrown out of the window, whereupon
there came a maid with a white hood out of the house, but who took up
the razor she can't tell."

Dated 8th August, 1683.

On July 20th Braddon had gone to Whitehall before he had obtained this
corroborative evidence, and had laid information before the King and
Council, and produced a written deposition as to what the boy Edwards
had said he had seen; but the boy's sister deposed that Mr. Laurence
Braddon had forced her brother to sign it. Soon after Braddon had
taken this step, he heard a rumour that the fact of the violent death
of the Earl of Essex had been known and discussed in Frome Selwood the
same day, and he hurried off to make inquiries into this. But on
reaching Salisbury he was arrested, thrown into prison, and brought
back to London. Another gentleman, a Mr. Speeke, had also been
spreading the report that Lord Essex had been foully murdered, and it
was hinted that the Duke of York, if not the King, had ordered the
assassination. Speeke also was arrested.

Narcissus Luttrell's account of the death of Essex is as follows:--

1683, 13th July.--"About nine in the morning, the Earl of Essex,
prisoner in the Tower of London, upon account of this new plott, did
most barbarously cut his own throat from one ear to the other with a
razor. What occasioned it is doubtfull: some say, the sense of his
guilt; others, the shame for being accused of such a crime, when his
father, the Lord Capell, died for his loyalty to the late King; however,
the coroner's jury have satt on his body, and found him _felo de se_,
tho' some stick not to say 'tis impossible he should murther himself in
so barbarous a manner; and his Majesty hath been pleased to give his
goods, which were forfeited by his killing himself, to his son."

On November 6th he says: "Mr. Speak was brought to the Court of King's
Bench, and charged with two informations: the 1st, for saying the King
was as great a Papist as the Duke of York; that the Duke durst not doe
what he did but that the King did animate him; that what Pilkington
had formerly said of the Duke of York was true; with much other such
scandalous stuff; and 2nd was for sayeing that the Earl of Essex was
killed and murdered by those that attended on him in the Tower; to
both these he pleaded Not Guilty."

1683-4, February 7th.--"Mr. Lawrence Braddon and Mr. Hugh Speke were
tried at the Court of King's Bench, by a jury of Middlesex, upon an
information reciting the commitment of the late Earl of Essex to the
Tower for treason in conspiring the death of the King, etc., and that
the 13th July last he cut his own throat, and was found _felo de se_
by the coroner's inquisition; the said Braddon and Speke did conspire
by writing and otherwise, to spread a false and scandalous report,
that the said Earl was murdered by some persons about him, and
endeavoured to suborn witnesses to testifye the same. The evidence for
the King, was first, the warder of the Tower, who testified as to his
Lordship's commitment; then the coroner, and the inquisition taken
before him, whereby his Lordship was found _felo de se_, was read;
then the particular evidence against Mr. Braddon was, by severall
persons, how busy and sollicitous he was to take persons'
informations, and to examine a little child about ten years old, about
a discourse that ran through the town that a bloody razor was thrown
out of his Lordship's window; and that the cry of Murder was heard;
and that a servant maid came presently out of the house of the Lord of
Essex, and took up the razor, and carried it in; and that then it was
said the Lord of Essex had killed himself. Then the severall
informations Braddon had taken in writing relating to this matter were
read, and some of the informants themselves examined, whose testimony
much differ'd from their informations, then severall testified the
confident and strange discourse this Braddon frequently us'd
concerning the matter. The evidence against Mr. Speke was only a
letter writt by him to Sir Robert Atkins th' elder, and carried by Mr.
Braddon, but was seized about him when he was going thither, which
contained severall expressions in commendation of Mr. Braddon and his
zeale, with reflexions on this matter; then the evidence was given of
his Lordship's cutting his own throat with a razor, which was proved
by his own servant, a Frenchman; by the warder, by the centinell, and
by Capt. Hawley. The defendants' proof was, first, Braddon pretended
he did nothing but out of zeale to have the truth come out: then he
call'd some witnesses to prove that there was a discourse of the Lord
of Essex's being killed, and a razor thrown out, before he concern'd
himself in it. Speke had little to say against the letter, but own'd
it to be his hand; so that the jury, after a little while, agreed of
their verdict, and found the defendant Braddon guilty of all that was
laid in the information, and the defendant Speke guilty of all except
the conspiring to suborn witnesses.

"'Twas strange any man should concern himself in an affair of this
moment on the information of a boy ten years old, who had denied all
after he had confess'd it, and did at his tryall, and make all this
rent that was about it."

April 21st, 1684.--"Mr. Laurence Braddon and Mr. Hugh Speke, convicted
last term upon an endeavour to lay the murder of the late Earl of
Essex upon the Government, were brought to the Court of King's Bench
to receive their judgments; which was, that Braddon should pay a fine
of £2000, and Speke £1000 to the King; that they find sureties for
their good behaviour during their lives, and be committed to the
King's Bench prison till they doe so."

Hugh Speke, who was tried along with Laurence Braddon, was an
inveterate plotter. Macaulay thus describes him: "Hugh Speke (was) a
young man of good family, but of a singularly base and depraved
nature. His love of mischief and of dark and crooked ways amounted
almost to madness. To cause confusion without being found out was his
business and his pastime; and he had a rare skill in using honest
enthusiasts as the instruments of his cold-blooded malice."

Referring to the case of Braddon, Macaulay adds: "He had attempted, by
means of one of his puppets, to fasten on Charles and James the crime
of murdering Essex in the Tower. On this occasion the agency of Speke
had been traced; and though he succeeded in throwing the greater part
of the blame on his dupe, he had not escaped with impunity."

He was certainly a clever scoundrel, for he managed to cover up most
of his traces in the affair of the charge of the murder of Essex.

Braddon was sincere, while Speke was not. Braddon was convinced that a
murder had been committed, and he had not a well-balanced mind to
weigh evidence. Speke cared nothing whether crime had been committed
or not so long as he could disturb men's minds with a suspicion that
one had been committed, and that by the King's brother and heir
presumptive to the Crown.

The evidence produced by Laurence Braddon was practically worthless. He
had but the word of two little children, and the boy had retracted and
acknowledged that he had told lies. As to the fact of the death of Lord
Essex being known at Frome on the 13th, showing that the murder had been
premeditated and was part of a widely ramified scheme of the Papists, it
was shown that nothing was known there of it till many days later.

The evidence for the King was Bomeny, the valet de chambre of Lord
Essex. He stated that the Earl had long nails, and that morning had
asked for a penknife so as to pare them. Bomeny had commissioned a
footman, William Turner, to get one, and bring it along with some
provisions ordered for the Earl's breakfast. Turner brought the
provisions, but had forgotten about the penknife, whereupon Lord Essex
began to cut his nails with his razor, and the footman was again
despatched for a penknife. Just then the King and the Duke of York
arrived at the Tower, and there was great bustle in the yard, and Bomeny
left the Earl's room. When he met the footman with the knife he
returned, but not finding Lord Essex in his chamber, he tried to open
the closet door, when he found that there was an obstruction. Somewhat
alarmed, he ran to Russell, the warder, whose door was almost opposite
on the same staircase, and both went to the closet, and found Lord Essex
lying in it with his throat cut and his feet against the door.

Russell corroborated this evidence, and added that no one could
possibly ascend the stair and enter Lord Essex's chamber without his
knowledge. The soldier, Lloyd, who acted as sentinel at the entrance
to the Earl's quarters, testified that there was no truth in the
children's tale about the razor, and that no maid had issued from the
door to pick one up.

It was further established that the closet window did not look into
the main yard, and was so arranged that a hand could not be passed out
of it.

Judge Jeffreys conducted the investigation, and that in a most
unseemly manner. Apparently he was drunk at the time, and was so
confused that he was not able to follow the evidence. He browbeat the
witnesses in the most offensive way.

On November 6th, 1684, a French Protestant refugee, named Borleau, was
indicted for selling a scandalous book called _L'Esprit de Monsieur
Arnaud_, in which he declared that the Earl of Essex had not cut his
own throat, but had been foully murdered. He pleaded guilty, and the
King graciously allowed him to be fined only 6s. 8d., and to be
discharged without paying his fees. There was most certainly fish made
of one and fowl of another.

Again, in December of the same year a book appeared entitled _An
Enquiry about the Barbarous Murder of the Earl of Essex_, that was
vended surreptitiously, and a broadside written by Colonel Danvers,
giving the evidence that he was murdered, was thrown in at open doors
and distributed in the streets of London. A hundred pounds was offered
for the apprehension of Danvers. As to the book, it was from the pen
of Laurence Braddon, and was later, when it could be done safely,
acknowledged by him. On January 23rd, 1684-5, a Mr. Henry Baker
pleaded guilty to an information for using scandalous words about the
Duke of York, and at the same time a printer, Norden, did the same to
an indictment for publishing the "scandalous libell in vindication of
the lord of Essex." And on February 3rd one of the jury at the
inquest, Launcelot Colston by name, was had up before King's Bench on
a charge of having said that he did not believe that the Earl had cut
his throat, for he could not have done so himself in the way in which
he was found. Norden was sentenced to pay 200 marks, and to stand in
the pillory at Ratcliffe, and to be bound to his good behaviour for
seven years, and be committed to prison till this was done.

In 1685, on the landing of the Duke of Monmouth, in the Proclamation
he published, he charged King James with the murder of Essex, with his
own hand.

In January, 1689, a Captain Hawley, Major Whitley, and some two or
three more were imprisoned for maintaining that Essex had not
committed suicide. But this was at the moment when all power was
slipping out of the hands of King James II; the Prince of Orange came
to the throne, and on February 23rd a Captain Holland was arrested and
thrown into prison on the charge of having been concerned in the
murder of the Earl, and this was followed by numerous other arrests.
But the prison-doors were thrown open for Laurence Braddon to issue
forth and recommence his accusations of murder. He republished the
"Enquiry into and Detection of the Barbarous Murther of the late Earl
of Essex; or a Vindication of that Noble Person from the Guilt and
Infamy of having Destroyed himself."

Even before the throne, vacated by King James, had been filled by the
Prince of Orange, the Lords had appointed a committee to examine into
the truth of the frightful stories circulated relative to the death of
Essex. The committee, which consisted wholly of zealous Whigs,
continued its inquiries till all reasonable men were convinced that he
had fallen by his own hand, and till Lady Essex, his brother, and his
most intimate friends requested that the investigation might be
pursued no further. That under Judge Jeffreys had been open to
suspicion, this could not. But nothing would alter the persuasion of
Braddon that this was a case of murder.

Next year, 1690, he came out with a fresh pamphlet, "Essex's Innocency
and Honour Vindicated, or Murther, Subornation, Perjury, and
Oppression, justly charged on the Murtherers of that Noble and True
Patriot Arthur (late) Earl of Essex," etc.

It had become a matter of party feeling, and it was held by all true
Protestants to be their duty to believe in the murder, so as to
blacken the character of James II. The evidence, however, was too poor
to convince a cool-minded man like Bishop Burnet, and in his _History
of His Own Times_ he spoke of Essex having cut his own throat.
Thereupon Laurence Braddon resumed his pen and published an attack on
the Bishop: "Bishop Burnet's History charged with great partiality and
misrepresentations, to make the present and future ages believe that
Arthur, Earl of Essex, in 1683, murdered himselfe, with observations
upon the suppos'd poysoning of King Charles the Second," 1724.

In 1695 Braddon was appointed solicitor to the wine-licensing office,
with a salary of £100 per annum.

In one point Braddon showed great perspicuity and good feeling. In 1717
he published a pamphlet entitled "The Miseries of the Poor, a National
Sin and Shame"; and when his scheme for the relief of the poor had been
animadverted upon unfavourably, in 1722, he answered these objections in
another tractate: "Particular answers to the most material objections
made to the proposal humbly presented to His Majesty for relieving,
reforming, and employing all the poor of Great Britain," 1722.

Laurence Braddon died on Sunday, 29th November, 1724.

The Braddons must have been a family of some consequence in S. Gennys,
although their arms and pedigree are not recorded in the Heralds'
Visitations. At the trial of Laurence, it was stated that his father's
income from his property was fully £800 per annum. Laurence derived
his fiery Protestantism from his father, who had been a
Parliamentarian officer of some distinction in the Civil War. His
father is buried in the chancel of S. Gennys, and some verses are
inscribed on the ledgerstone, beginning:--

          In war and peace I bore command,
          Both gun and sword I wore.

The arms borne by the family are: _Sable_, a bend lozengy, _arg._--arms
that in their beautiful simplicity proclaim their antiquity.

The old mansion of the Braddons in S. Gennys has been pulled down and
a modern farm-house erected on the site.

                         THOMASINE BONAVENTURA

Week S. Mary stands in a treeless wind-swept situation, 530 feet above
the sea, near the source of two small streams rising in the desolate
downs to the south, which unite their waters at Langford, and have
sawn for themselves deep clefts that are well wooded. At a remote
period this district must have been the scene of contests, for it is
studded with earthworks. There was a castle at Week, but camps also
crowning a height in Westwood and in Swannacott Wood; and Week S. Mary
with its castle stood aloft, defended by one of these on each side.
Formerly there was not so much enclosed land as there is at present;
but it was precisely the moorland that extended over so large a
portion of the parish that constituted its wealth, for on this waste
pastured vast flocks of sheep, whose fleeces were in request at a time
when wool was the staple industry in the West of England.

The ridge of bare, uplifted, carboniferous rock and clay, cold and
bleak, was formerly scantily provided with roads, and with homesteads
few and far between; and to guide the traveller through the waste,
certain churches with lofty towers were erected on high
ground--Pancrasweek, Holsworthy, Bridgerule, Week S. Mary--to enable him
to make his way across country from one to the other. A farm or a
manor-house nestled in a combe, sheltered from the wind, from the sea,
and the driving rain; but farmer and squire drew their wealth from the
sheep on the uplands, which were moreover strewn, as they still are,
with barrows, under which lie the dead of the Bronze and Stone ages.

Davies Gilbert absurdly derives the name of the place from the
Cornish, and makes it signify "sweet." No more unsuitable epithet
could have been applied. It signifies _vicus_, a village or hamlet,
and is found also at Pancrasweek, Germansweek, and elsewhere.

In the village are still to be seen the remains of the old school and
chantry founded by Thomasine Bonaventura, a shepherd girl, native of
the place, whose story is told by Carew and by Hall; and from them we
take it.

Thomasine was born about the year 1450, in the reign of Henry VI, and
her father was a small farmer who had his flock of sheep pasturing on
the wild waste common-lands. Thomasine watched it, and spun from her
distaff. Above the desolate moors to the south-west stood up blue
against the sky the rugged height of Brown Willy, crowned by its
mighty cairns; to the west and south-west stretched the Atlantic, into
which the evening sun went down in a blaze of glory.

One day a London merchant, a dealer in wool, came riding over the
moor; probably from Tintagel or Forrabury, and making direct for Week
S. Mary tower, when he passed a barrow on which sat the shepherd girl
spinning, the breeze from the sea blowing her dark hair about, singing
some old ballad, but ever keeping her eye on her father's sheep.
Behind him trailed a line of horses laden with the packs of wool that
he had purchased, led by his men. He halted to speak to the girl,
probably to learn from her where he might best ford the stream in the
valley below. She answered, and he was pleased with her intelligence,
and not less with her beauty. He inquired who she was, what was her
name, and what the circumstances of her parents. To all these
questions she gave prompt and direct answers. Then, still more taken
with her, he asked Thomasine whether she would accompany him to
London, to be servant to his wife, and he offered her good wages and
kind treatment. She replied, with caution, that she was under the
guardianship of her father and mother, and that she could not accept
his proposal without their consent.

Thereupon the merchant rode on, and upon reaching Week S. Mary
inquired for the house of the parents of Thomasine and laid his offer
before them. When they hesitated, he referred them to his customers.

The parents, no doubt, were highly elated at being able to get their
daughter into a situation in London, where all the streets were paved
with gold. But it may well be doubted whether they dreamt of what was
in store for her.

So she parted from her parents, certainly with many tears on her part,
and earnest injunctions from father and mother to conduct herself in a
modest and obedient manner.

Now these wool merchants and clothiers were men of mighty repute and
good substance in the land. In Thomas Deloney's delightful _Pleasant
Historie of Thomas of Reading_, 1600, we read: "Among all crafts this
was the onely chiefe, for that it was the chiefest merchandize, by the
which our Country became famous throwout all Nations. And it was
verily thought that the one halfe of the people in the land lived in
those dayes thereby, and in such good sort, that in the Commonwealth
there were few or no beggars at all: poore people, whom God lightly
blessed with most children, did by meanes of this occupation so order
them, that by the time that they were come to be sixe or seven yeares
of age, they were able to get their owne bread. Idlenesse was then
banished our coast, so that it was a rare thing to heare of a thiefe
in those dayes. Therefore it was not without cause that Clothiers were
then both honoured and loved."

Doubtless so soon as the merchant reached Launceston he placed all the
wool he purchased on carts, to convey it to town through Exeter. Deloney
tells an amusing story of how King Henry was riding forth west with one
of his sons and some of his nobility, when "he met with a great number
of waines loaden with cloth coming to London, and seeing them still
drive one after another so many together, demanded whose they were. The
wainemen answered in this sort: Coles of Reading, quoth they. Then, by
and by, the King asked another, saying: Whose cloth is all this? Old
Coles, quoth he. And againe anon after he asked the same questions to
others, and still they answered, Old Coles. And it is to be remembered
that the King met them in such a place so narrow and streight, that hee
with the rest of his traine were faine to stand as close to the hedge,
whilest the carts passed by, the which at that time being in number
above two hundred, was neere hand an hour ere the King could get room to
be gone; so that by his long stay, he began to be displeased, although
the admiration of that sight did much qualify his furie; but breaking
out in discontent, by reason of his stay, he said, I thought Old Cole
had got a commission for all the carts in the country to carry his
cloth. And how if he have (quoth one of the wainemen) doth that grieve
you, good Sir? Yes, good Sir, said our King. What say you to that? The
fellow, seeing the King (in asking the question) to bend his browes,
though he knew not what he was, yet being abasht, he answered thus: Why,
Sir, if you be angry, nobody can hinder you; for possibly, Sir, you have
anger at commandment. The King, seeing him in uttering of his words to
quiver and quake, laughed heartily at him ... and by the time he came
within a mile of Staines, he met another company of waines, in like sort
laden with cloth, whereby the King was driven into a further admiration;
and demanding whose they were, answere was made in this sort: They bee
goodman Sutton's of Salisbury, good Sir. And by that time a score of
them were past; he asked againe, saying, Whose are these? Sutton's of
Salisbury, quoth they, and so still, so often as the King asked that
question, they answered, Sutton's of Salisbury. God send me such more
Suttons, said the King. And thus the further he travelled westward, more
waines and more he met continually: upon which occasion he said to his
nobles, that it would never grieve a King to die for the defence of a
fertile country and faithful subjects. I alwayes thought (quoth he) that
England's valor was more than her wealth, yet now I see her wealth
sufficient to maintaine her valour, which I will seek to cherish in all
I may, and with my sword keepe myselfe in possession of that I have."

Judging by what Deloney says, these clothiers were a merry set, and the
journey to town was one long picnic. They were--or some were--of good
family. Grey, the clothier of Gloucester, was of the noble race of Grey
de Ruthyn, and FitzAllen, of Worcester, came of the Fitzallens, "that
famous family whose patrimony lay about the town of Oswestrie, which
towne his predecessors had inclosed with stately walls of stone."

The most famous wool merchant in the West was Tom Dove, of Exeter,
concerning whom this song was sung:--

          Welcome to town, Tom Dove, Tom Dove,
            The merriest man alive.
          Thy company still we love, we love,
            God grant thee well to thrive.
          And never will we depart from thee,
            For better, for worse, my joy!
          For thou shalt still have our good will,
            God's blessing on my sweet boy!

In London Thomasine comported herself well, was cheerful and obliging.
How the mercer's wife relished her introduction into the house we are
not informed. But this good lady shortly after sickened and died, and
the widower offered Thomasine his hand and his heart, which she

After three years Richard Bunsby, the mercer, died and left all he had
to Thomasine, so that she, who had gone up to town as a serving girl,
was now a rich widow, and withal young and pretty and attractive. She
soon drew suitors about her, and her choice fell on "that worshipful
merchant adventurer, Master John Gall, of S. Lawrence, Milk Street."
He as well was wealthy and uxorious, and he allowed his wife to make
donations for the relief of the poor of her native village, for which
she ever retained a lingering attachment.

After the lapse of five years Thomasine was again a widow, and her
second husband had followed the example of the first in leaving to her
all his possessions.

She had not to wait long before fresh suitors buzzed about her like
flies around a treacle barrel, and now, in the year 1497, she gave her
hand to Sir John Percival, who in the following year became Lord Mayor
of London. In memory of this event, she is traditionally held to have
constructed a good road--as good roads went in those days--from Week
S. Mary down to the coast, probably that over Week ford and through
Poundstock, to either Wansum or Melhuc Mouth.

She long survived her third husband, and is supposed to have returned
to end her days as the Lady Bountiful in her native village. By her
will, made in 1510, she left goodly sums of money to Week S. Mary.

But both she and Sir John Percival had been already benefactors in
London. Sir John had founded a chantry in S. Mary Woolnoth, and in
1539 is found an entry in the churchwardens' accounts of that parish
recording that Dame Thomasine Percival had left money for the
maintenance of the "beme light" in the church, i.e. the lamp before
the rood. She had also left money to supply candles to burn about the
sepulchre in the church on Easter Day, and he had bequeathed moneys
for the repair of the ornaments of the church, for bell-ringing, for
singers "for keeping the anthem," at his and her obits, and last but
not least, "for a potation to the neighbours at the said obit."

Carew says: "And to show that virtue as well bare a part in the desert,
as fortune in the means of her preferment, she employed the whole
residue of her life and last widowhood to works no less bountiful than
charitable, namely, repairing of highways, building of bridges, endowing
of maidens, relieving of prisoners, feeding and apparelling the poor,
etc. Among the rest, at this S. Mary Wike she founded a chantry and
free-school, together with fair lodgings for the schoolmasters,
scholars, and officers, and added £20 of yearly revenue for supporting
the incident charges: wherein, as the bent of her desire was holy, so
God blessed the same with all wished success; for divers of the best
gentlemen's sons of Devon and Cornwall were there virtuously trained up,
in both kinds of divine and human learning, under one Cholwel, an honest
and religious teacher, which caused the neighbours so much the rather
and the more to rue, that a petty smack only of Popery opened the gap to
the oppression of the whole, by the statute made in Edward VI's reign,
touching the suppression of chantries."

This disaster befell it in 1550, when all colleges, chantries, free
chapels, fraternities, and guilds throughout the kingdom, with their
lands and endowments, were alienated to the King--not because there
was a "petty smack of Popery" in them, but because of the rapacity of
the courtiers who desired to gather the lands and benefactions into
their own soiled hands.

Mr. W. H. Tregellas says: "There are still to be seen in the remote
and quiet little village of Week S. Mary, some five or six miles south
of Bude, in the northern corner of Cornwall, the substantial remains
of the good Thomasine's college and chantry, which she founded for the
instruction of the youth of her native place.

"The buildings lie about a hundred yards east of the church (from the
summit of whose grotesquely ornamented tower six-and-twenty parish
churches may be discerned), and built into the modern wall of a
cottage which stands inside the battlemented enclosure is a large
carved granite stone (evidently one of two which once formed the
tympanum of a doorway), on which the letter T stands out in bold
relief. Probably it is the initial of the Christian name of our
Thomasine; at any rate, it is pleasant to think it may be such."

The church and its stately tower were probably built by Thomasine, or,
at all events, she would have largely contributed towards the
building. That church is now, internally, a ghastly sight. At its
"restoration" it was gutted, and is as bare as a railway station--a
shell, and nothing more. But that it was not so in Dame Thomasine's
time we may be well assured. A gorgeous screen extended across its
nave and aisles, richly sculptured and coloured and gilt, the windows
were filled with stained glass, and the bench ends were of carved oak.
All this has been swept away.

In the Stratton churchwardens' accounts for 1513 we find that on the
day upon which "My Lady Parcyvale's Meneday" came round--i.e. the day
on which her death was called to mind--prayer was to be made for the
repose of her soul, and two shillings and two pence paid to two
priests, and for bread and ale.

                      THE MURDER OF NEVILL NORWAY

Mr. Nevill Norway was a timber and general merchant, residing at
Wadebridge. He was the second son of William Norway, of Court Place,
Egloshayle, who died in 1819, and Nevill was baptized at Egloshayle
Church on November 5th, 1801.

In the course of his business he travelled about the country and
especially attended markets, and he went to one at Bodmin on the 8th
of February, 1840, on horseback.

About four o'clock in the afternoon he was transacting some little
affair in the market-place, and had his purse in his hand, opened it and
turned out some gold and silver, and from the sum picked out what he
wanted and paid the man with whom he was doing business. Standing close
by and watching him was a young man named William Lightfoot, who lived
at Burlorn, in Egloshayle, and whom he knew well enough by sight.

Mr. Norway did not leave Bodmin till shortly before ten o'clock, and he
had got about nine miles to ride before he would reach his house. The
road was lonely and led past the Dunmeer Woods and that of Pencarrow.

He was riding a grey horse, and he had a companion, who proceeded with
him along the road for three miles and then took his leave and
branched off in another direction.

A farmer returning from market somewhat later to Wadebridge saw a grey
horse in the road, saddled and bridled, but without a rider. He tried at
first to overtake it, but the horse struck into a gallop and he gave up
the chase; his curiosity was, however, excited, and upon meeting some
men on the road, and making inquiry, they told him that they thought
that the grey horse that had just gone by them belonged to Mr. Norway.
This induced him to call at the house of that gentleman, and he found
the grey steed standing at the stable gate. The servants were called
out, and spots of blood were found upon the saddle. A surgeon was
immediately summoned, and two of the domestics sallied forth on the
Bodmin road, in quest of their master. The search was not successful
that night, but later, one of the searchers perceiving something white
in the little stream of water that runs beside the highway and enters
the river Allen at Pendavey Bridge, they examined it, and found the body
of their unfortunate master, lying on his back in the stream, with his
feet towards the road, and what they had seen glimmering in the
uncertain light was his shirt frill. He was quite dead.

The body was at once placed on the horse and conveyed home, where the
surgeon, named Tickell, proceeded to examine it. He found that the
deceased had received injuries about the face and head, produced by
heavy and repeated blows from some blunt instrument, which had
undoubtedly been the cause of death. A wound was discovered under the
chin, into which it appeared as if some powder had been carried; and
the bones of the nose, the forehead, the left side of the head and the
back of the skull were frightfully fractured.

An immediate examination of the spot ensued when the body had been
found, and on the left-hand side of the road was seen a pool of
blood, from which to the rivulet opposite was a track produced by the
drawing of a heavy body across the way, and footsteps were observed as
of more than one person in the mud, and it was further noticed that
the boots of those there impressed must have been heavy. There had
apparently been a desperate scuffle before Mr. Norway had been killed.

[Illustration: NEVILL NORWAY

_From a painting in the possession of Miss A. T. Norway_]

There was further evidence. Two sets of footmarks could be traced of
men pacing up and down behind a hedge in an orchard attached to an
uninhabited house hard by; apparently men on the watch for their
intended victim.

At a short distance from the pool of blood was found the hammer of a
pistol that had been but recently broken off.

Upon the pockets of the deceased being examined, it became obvious
that robbery had been the object of the attack made upon him, for his
purse and a tablet and bunch of keys had been carried off.

Every exertion was made to discover the perpetrators of the crime, and
large rewards were offered for evidence that should tend to point them
out. Jackson, a constable from London, was sent for, and mainly by his
exertions the murderers were tracked down. A man named Harris, a
shoemaker, deposed that he had seen the two brothers, James and
William Lightfoot, of Burlorn, in Egloshayle, loitering about the
deserted cottage late at night after the Bodmin fair; and a man named
Ayres, who lived next door to James Lightfoot, stated that he had
heard his neighbour enter his cottage at a very late hour on the night
in question, and say something to his wife and child, upon which they
began to weep. What he had said he could not hear, though the
partition between the cottages was thin.

This led to an examination of the house of James Lightfoot on February
14th, when a pistol was found, without a lock, concealed in a hole in
a beam that ran across the ceiling. As the manner of Lightfoot was
suspicious, he was taken into custody.

On the 17th his brother William was arrested in consequence of a
remark to a man named Vercoe that he was in it as well as James. He
was examined before a magistrate, and made the following confession:--

"I went to Bodmin last Saturday week, the 8th instant, and on
returning I met my brother James just at the head of Dunmeer Hill. It
was just come dim-like. My brother had been to Burlorn, Egloshayle, to
buy potatoes. Something had been said about meeting; but I was not
certain about that. My brother was not in Bodmin on that day. Mr.
Vercoe overtook us between Mount Charles Turnpike Gate at the top of
Dunmeer Hill and a place called Lane End. We came on the turnpike road
all the way till we came to the house near the spot where the murder
was committed. We did not go into the house, but hid ourselves in a
field. My brother knocked Mr. Norway down; he snapped a pistol at him
twice, and it did not go off. Then he knocked him down with the
pistol. He was struck whilst on horseback. It was on the turnpike road
between Pencarrow Mill and the directing-post towards Wadebridge. I
cannot say at what time of the night it was. We left the body in the
water on the left side of the road coming to Wadebridge. We took money
in a purse, but I do not know how much it was. It was a brownish
purse. There were some papers, which my brother took and pitched away
in a field on the left-hand side of the road, into some browse or
furze. The purse was hid by me in my garden, and afterwards I threw it
over Pendavey Bridge. My brother drew the body across the road to the
water. We did not know whom we stopped till when my brother snapped
the pistol at him. Mr. Norway said, 'I know what you are about. I see
you.' We went home across the fields. We were not disturbed by any
one. The pistol belonged to my brother. I don't know whether it was
broken; I never saw it afterwards; and I do not know what became of
it. I don't know whether it was soiled with blood. I did not see any
blood on my brother's clothes. We returned together, crossing the
river at Pendavey Bridge and the Treraren fields to Burlorn village.
My brother then went to his house and I to mine. I think it was handy
about eleven o'clock. I saw my brother again on the Sunday morning. He
came to my house. There was nobody there but my own family. He said,
'Dear me, Mr. Norway is killed.' I did not make any reply."

The prisoner upon this was remanded to Bodmin gaol, where his brother
was already confined, and on the way he pointed out the furze bush in
which the tablet and the keys of the deceased were to be found. James
Lightfoot, in the meantime, had also made a confession, in which he
threw the guilt of the murder upon his brother William.

This latter, when in prison, admitted that his confession had not been
altogether true. He and his brother had met by appointment, with full
purpose to rob the Rev. W. Molesworth, of S. Breock, returning from
Bodmin market, and when James had snapped his pistol twice at Mr.
Norway, he, William, had struck him with a stick on the back of his
head and felled him from his horse, whereupon James had battered his
head and face with the pistol.

The two wretched men were tried at Bodmin on March 30th, 1840, before
Mr. Justice Coltman, and the jury returned a verdict of "Guilty";
they were accordingly both sentenced to death, and received the
sentence with great stolidity.

Up to this time the brothers had been allowed no opportunity for
communication, and the discrepancy in their stories distinctly enough
showed that the object of each was to screen himself and to secure the
conviction of the other.

After the passing of the sentence on them, they were conveyed to the
same cell, and were now, for the first time, allowed to approach each
other. They had scarcely met before, in the most hardened manner, they
broke out into mutual recrimination, using the most horrible and
abusive language of each other, and, not content with this, they flew
at each other's throat, so that the gaolers were obliged to interfere
and separate them and confine them in separate apartments.

On April 7th their families were admitted to bid them farewell, and
the scene was most distressing. On Monday morning, April 13th, they
were both executed, and it was said that upwards of ten thousand
persons had assembled to witness their end.

As Mr. Norway's family was left in most straitened circumstances, a
collection was made for them in Cornwall, and the sum of £3500 was
raised on their behalf.

William Lightfoot was aged thirty-six and James thirty-three when
hanged at Bodmin.

There is a monument to the memory of Mr. Norway in Egloshayle Church.

In the _Cornwall Gazette_, 17th April, 1840, the portraits of the
murderers were given. Mention is made of the tragedy in C. Carlyon's
_Early Years_, 1843. He gives the following story. At the time of the
murder, Edmund Norway, the brother of Nevill, was in command of a
merchant vessel, the _Orient_, on his voyage from Manilla to Cadiz.
He wrote on the same day as the murder:--

                      "Ship _Orient_, from Manilla to Cadiz,

                                                "_Feb._ 8th, 1840.

    "About 7.30 p.m. the island of S. Helena, N.N.W., distant about
    seven miles, shortened sail and rounded to, with the ship's head
    to the eastward; at eight, set the watch and went below--wrote a
    letter to my brother, Nevell Norway. About twenty minutes or a
    quarter before ten o'clock went to bed--fell asleep, and dreamt I
    saw two men attack my brother and murder him. One caught the horse
    by the bridle and snapped a pistol twice, but I heard no report;
    he then struck him a blow, and he fell off the horse. They struck
    him several blows, and dragged him by the shoulders across the
    road and left him. In my dream there was a house on the left-hand
    side of the road. At five o'clock I was called, and went on deck
    to take charge of the ship. I told the second officer, Mr. Henry
    Wren, that I had had a dreadful dream, and dreamt that my brother
    Nevell was murdered by two men on the road from S. Columb to
    Wadebridge; but I was sure it could not be there, as the house
    there would have been on the right-hand side of the road, but it
    must have been somewhere else. He replied, 'Don't think anything
    about it; you West-country people are superstitious; you will make
    yourself miserable the remainder of the passage. He then left the
    general orders and went below. It was one continued dream from the
    time I fell asleep until I was called, at five o'clock in the

                                "EDMUND NORWAY,
                                    "Chief Officer, Ship _Orient_."

There are some difficulties about this account. It is dated, as may
be seen, February 8th, but it must have been written on February 9th,
after Mr. Norway had had the dream, and the date must refer to the
letter written to his brother and to the dream, and not to the time
when the account was penned.

From the Cape of Good Hope to S. Helena the course would be about
N.N.W., and with a fair wind the ship would cover about eighty or
ninety miles in eight hours. So that at noon of the day February 8th
she would be about one hundred miles S.S.E. of S. Helena, i.e. in
about 5° W. longitude, as nearly as possible. The ship's clock would
then be set, and they would keep that time for letter-writing
purposes, meals, ship routine, etc.

                 Ship, long.              5°  0' 0" W.
                 Bodmin  "                4° 40' 0" W.
                       Difference            20' 0"

The difference would be twenty minutes of longitude, and the
difference in time between the two places one degree apart is four
minutes. Reduce this to seconds:--

               4 × 60 × 20
               ----------- = 80 sec., i.e. 1 min. 20 sec.

Therefore, if the murder was committed, say, at 10h. 30m. p.m. Bodmin
time, the time on the ship's clock would be 10h. 28m. 40s. p.m. An
inconsiderable difference.

The log-book of Edmund Norway is said to be still in existence.

One very remarkable point deserves notice. In his dream Mr. Edmund
Norway saw the house on the right hand of the road, and as he
remembered, on waking, that the cottage was on the left hand, he
consoled himself with the thought that if the dream was incorrect in
one point it might be in the whole. But he was unaware that during
his absence from England the road from Bodmin to Wadebridge had been
altered, and that it had been carried so that the position of the
house was precisely as he saw it in his dream, and the reverse of what
he had remembered it to be.

Another point to be mentioned is that one of the murderers wore on
that occasion a coat which Mr. Norway had given him a few weeks
before, out of charity.

Both brothers protested that they had not purposed the murder of Mr.
Norway but of the Rev. Mr. Molesworth, parson of S. Breock, who they
supposed was returning with tithe in his pocket. This, however, did
not agree with the evidence that William Lightfoot had watched him
counting his money at Bodmin, and then had made off.

On the occasion of the discovery of the murder, Sir William Molesworth
sent his bloodhounds to track the murderers, but because they ran in a
direction opposed to that which the constables supposed was the right
one they were recalled. The hounds were right, the constables wrong.

                        SIR WILLIAM LOWER, KNT.

Sir William Lower was the only son of John Lower, and was born at
Tremere, in S. Tudy, about the year 1600.

The Lowers were a very ancient family in Cornwall, seated in S. Winnow
parish, and at Clifton, in Landulph, at which latter place lived Sir
Nicholas Lower, the brother of John, whilst the eldest brother, Sir
William, settled at Treventy, in Carmarthen, having married the
daughter and co-heiress of Sir Thomas Pescott, of that place. John had
two other brothers knights, Sir Francis and Sir Thomas.

William was not educated at Oxford, but, as Wood says, "spent some
time in Oxon, in the condition of _hospes_, for the sake of the public
library and scholastical company." He exhibited a "gay fancy," and a
mighty aversion from the dry and crabbed studies of logic and

Leaving Oxford, he spent some time in France, where he became a master
of the French tongue, and acquired a great admiration for the dramatic
compositions of Corneille, Quirault, and Ceriziers, and in after years
amused himself with translating some of their plays.

When the troubles broke out in England he took the King's side, and in
1640 was a lieutenant in Sir Jacob Ashley's regiment in Northumberland's
army against the Scotch Covenanters, and was then appointed captain, but
lost his company, that proved mutinous and deserted. "It was a
marvellous thing," says a writer of the time, "to observe the
averseness of the common soldiers to this war. Though commanders and
gentlemen of great quality, in pure obedience to the King, seemed not at
all to dispute the cause or consequence of this war, the common soldiers
would not be satisfied, questioning, in a mutinous manner, whether their
captains were papists or not, and in many places were not appeased till
they saw them receive the sacrament; laying violent hands on divers of
their commanders, and killing some, uttering in bold speeches their
distaste of the cause, to the astonishment of many, that common people
should be sensible of public interest and religion, when lords and
gentlemen seemed not to be."

[Illustration: S^r W^m Lower--

Pub May 21 1800 by W Richardson N^o 31 Strond]

In June, 1644, being a lieutenant-colonel in Thomas Blague's regiment
and lieutenant-governor of Wallingford, Lower received orders from the
King to raise £50 a week from the town of Reading. Lower at once laid
hands on the mayor and carried him to Wallingford as a hostage; he
then plied the corporation with demands for the money, without which
their head would not be restored to them. The corporation, however,
did not value their mayor so highly that they were disposed to pay £50
per week for the privilege of having him restored to them. Lower was
taken prisoner by the garrison of Abingdon on 19th January, 1645-6,
and Charles rewarded him for his zeal by conferring on him knighthood.

He remained in England for nearly ten more years and saw the ruin of
the Royal cause, which he did care for, and of the Church, for which
he cared not a rush. In 1655 he quitted England and went to Cologne,
which was full of refugees, and there he was cheered with the tidings
that Oliver Cromwell was failing in health and had not long to live.
Leaving Cologne, after a brief residence there, he "took sanctuary in
Holland, where in peace and privacy he enjoyed the society of the
Muses," says Langhorn.

His _The Phœnix in Her Flames_, a tragedy in four acts, had been
published in 1639. _The Innocent Lady, or the Illustrious Innocence_,
translated from the French of R. de Ceriziers, was published in 1654.
Now in Holland he worked hard at other translations, and he was the
more able to do this at ease, as the Princess Royal Mary of Orange
seems to have taken him into her retinue at the Hague. If the Court
was anything like what it was when James Howell was there, it must
have been vastly dull for the lively and dissolute Sir William Lower.
But his stay was enlivened by the arrival of Charles and the intrigues
there carried on with the well-affected in England.

At the Hague he issued a thin royal folio, with many plates, entitled
"A relation in form of Journal of the voiage and residence which the
most excellent and most mighty Prince, Charles the II, King of Great
Britain, etc., hath made in Holland, from the 25th of May to the 2nd
of June, 1660, rendered into English from the original French. By Sir
W. Lower, Knt. Printed by Adrian Ulack." This was published in Dutch,
French, and English, and at the end of the volume Sir W. Lower
inserted his poems, and an apology for the "tardive appearance (of the
book) due to those men who grave the plates."

Such "poems" as he has given as his own show conclusively enough that
he was not a poet, but a mere hammerer together of rhymes.

In June, 1660, calculating on his services rendered to Charles I and to
the sumptuous book on the residence in Holland of Charles II that he had
brought out, Lower appealed to Secretary Nicholas from The Hague to
obtain for him some place in the King's service. But the death of his
cousin Thomas, only son of Sir William Lower, of Treventy, who died on
5th February, 1661, by which he became sole heir, executor, and chief
representative of the family, recalled him to England. He did not,
however, enjoy ease long, for he died in the ensuing year, 1662, leaving
an only child, Elizabeth, who probably died early, for nothing further
is known of her than that she was in existence when her father died. Who
the wife of Sir William Lower was is not known.

His cousin, Dr. Richard Lower, of S. Paul's, Covent Garden, who gave
Wood information relative to his kinsman, described him as "an ill
poet and a worse man."

His long residence abroad, his dissociation from Cornwall for all his
life save his early boyhood, his separation from his kinsmen, had
broken all the ties that linked him to his family and county; and when
he inherited the estates and was in a position to assist his kinsmen
who had been greatly reduced by the civil wars, "he did not, but
followed the vices of poets."

                        THE PIRATES AT PENZANCE

An event occurred at Penzance in the year 1760 that deserves to be
remembered. Great Britain had been engaged in the Seven Years War; and
notwithstanding the successes of 1759, when Rodney bombarded Havre,
Boscawen had routed and dispersed the Toulon fleet off Lagos, and Hawke
had defeated the fleet of De Conflans near Quiberon, there was still a
certain amount of alarm in the country, a dread of predatory incursions,
and if this fear existed inland, it was most acute upon the coast.

On the night of the 29-30th September Penzance was alarmed by the firing
of guns, and soon after by the intelligence that a large ship of a
strange appearance had run ashore near Newlyn. Half Penzance poured out
in that direction in the grey of early morning. But on reaching the
strand they were panic-stricken to see on the ship, and drawn up on the
beach, a number of ferocious-looking individuals with baggy trousers,
and red fezes on their heads, and each armed with a scimitar, and with
brass-mounted pistols stuck in their girdles. Thereupon the half of
Penzance that had turned out now turned tail and made the best of their
way back to the town, crying out that the Turks had landed and were
intent on massacring the inhabitants of Penzance, plundering their
houses, and carrying away their wives and children into captivity to
become galley-slaves or to fill the harems of these Moslem monsters.

A volunteer company was called out, the drum beat to arms, and marched
to the beach, where they found 172 men, who were surrounded, deprived
of their weapons, and marched to a spacious building called "The
Folly," that stood on the Western Green. As there were some of the
captives who could speak the _lingua franca_, and there was here and
there to be found a magistrate or an officer who had a limited
knowledge of French, it was at last elicited from these men that they
were the crew of an Algerine corsair, carrying twenty-four guns, from
nine to six pounders. The captain, believing himself to be in the
Atlantic, somewhere about the latitude of Cadiz, had cheerily in the
dark run his vessel into Mount's Bay, and was vastly surprised when
she struck, and still more so when he found himself surrounded by
Cornishmen and not by Spaniards. He had lost eight men, drowned.

No sooner was this bruited about than a second panic set in, and the
good citizens of Penzance went into hysterics of fear lest these
Algerine pirates should have brought with them an invasion of the

A cordon of volunteers was accordingly drawn up round "The Folly" to
prevent all intercourse, intelligence was conveyed to the Government,
and orders were issued for troops to march from Plymouth so as to
surround the whole district. However, the local authorities recovered
from their terror or apprehension in time to send off information that
there was no cause for such a measure, and the orders were

After some days, when no case of plague had revealed itself among the
captives, the people of the town and neighbourhood were suffered to
approach and contemplate the strangers. Their Oriental dress, their
long beards and moustaches, the dark complexion and glittering eyes
of the piratical band, made them objects of curiosity. But they still
inspired so much fear that few ventured to approach near to them.

Upon the whole, they were kindly treated, and finally, as their vessel
was a complete wreck, a man-of-war was despatched to take all the men
on board and convey them back to Algiers.

                             DAME KILLIGREW

The Killigrew family is one of the most ancient in Cornwall. It takes
its name from Killigrew in the parish of S. Erme. Here stands the old
nest of the family beside the high road from Truro that falls into
that from Redruth to Bodmin at Casland. It is now represented by a
couple of insignificant cottages, without old trees surrounding it,
and the only hint that it was once the seat of a distinguished family
is found in the remains of the deerpark.

The genuine pedigree of the family goes back to Ralph Killigrew of
Killigrew, in the reign of Henry III. In that of Richard II, Simon
Killigrew married Jane, daughter and heiress of Robert of Arwenack,
near Penryn, and he quitted the ancestral mansion to move to his
wife's house that was planted in a less bleak situation and was on the
estuary of the Fal.

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, Sir John Killigrew of Arwenack, was
Captain in Command of Pendennis Castle. He married Mary, daughter of
Philip Wolverston and widow of Henry Knyvett of an Eastern counties
family, but her son by Henry Knyvett settled in Cornwall, at
Rosemorryn in S. Budoc. Sir John pulled down the greater portion of
the ancient house and built himself another, very stately in the style
of the times--but, alas! this also has disappeared, for when Sir
William Waller approached Pendennis, to besiege it on behalf of the
Parliament, the Governor of the Castle set fire to Arwenack lest it
should give harbour to the enemy.

Sir John had a son, also called John, who married Dorothy, daughter of
the impecunious Sir Thomas Monck, Knt., of Potheridge, which Sir
Thomas died in the debtors' gaol at S. Thomas', by Exeter. John and
Dorothy had a son, Sir John Killigrew, aged twenty-two on his father's
death in 1605.

Now it fell out that Sir Walter Raleigh on his homeward voyage from
Guiana put into Falmouth harbour, and found there, where the town now
stands, only a fisherman's cottage. Killigrew, however, hospitably
entertained Sir Walter, who expressed his surprise that so fine a
harbour should have no accommodation for sailors sheltering there, and
when he went to town memorialized King James on the subject. He had
fired the imagination of his host, Sir John, and he also petitioned
the King to grant him a royal licence to build four houses, where now
stands Falmouth, for the convenience of sailors. This roused the wrath
of the people of Penryn further up the river, who saw that four houses
would bring in their wake many more, and would draw away the trade,
and cut off the prosperity of Penryn. Accordingly they used every
possible endeavour to obstruct the project. Sir John made several
journeys to London, but it was only by spending a great deal of money
in fees and bribery of officials that he was able to obtain the
licence; and by so doing he incurred the implacable resentment of the
inhabitants of Penryn.

We will now let Martin Killigrew continue the story. He wrote a
history of the family in 1737 or 1738. We will somewhat simplify the
reading by giving "the" for "y^e."

"The last Sir John Killigrew was hardly got over this difficulty,
when he fell under a much greater affliction, the prostitution of his
wife, who caused herself to be called, or unaccountably was known by the
name of Lady Jane." He has already stated, "Sir John Killigrew, a sober,
good man, to his utter undoing, married the daughter of an ancient and
honourable family, new in the peerage, in respect to whom I forbear the
name; making herself infamous, and first debauched by the Governor of
Pendennis Castle." This lady was Jane, daughter of Sir George Fermon, of
Northampton. Sir William, his brother, was created Baron Leominster in
1622, whose son was given the earldom of Pomfret in 1721.

[Illustration: THE KILLYGREW CUP


                                                JANE KILLYGREW

_This Cup has been recently valued at the sum of £4,000. It measures
just two feet in height_]

"Arrived to that shameful degree, Sir John, in point of honour and for
quietness of mind, found himself under a necessity to prosecute a
divorce from her in the Archbishop's Court, which lasted so many years
and [was] so very expensive, as quite ruined his estate, to the degree
of his being often put to very hard shifts to get home from London
upon the frequent recesses in the process, but at length obtained the
divorce in all its formal extent. This woman in such long contest was
in no degree protected by her family, but supported and cherished by
the town of Penryn, from their jealousy and hatred of Arwenack, as
specially appears to this day, by plate by her given to the Mayor and
Corporation of Penryn, when she came into her jointure, as an
acknowledgment for such protection.[11] Sir John did not long outlive
such his divorce, dying in 1632."

Hals says: "Jane Killigrew, widow of Sir John Killigrew, Knt., in the
Spanish wars in the latter end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, went on
board two Dutch ships of the Hans Towns (always free traders in times of
war) driven into Falmouth harbour by cross winds, laden with
merchandise, on account (as was said) of Spaniards, and with a numerous
party of ruffians, murdered the two Spanish merchants or factors on
board these ships, and took from them two barrels or hogsheads of
Spanish pieces of eight, and converted them to her own use."

"Now, though Fleta (lib. i. c. iii., temp. Edward II) tells us that it
is no murder except it be proved that the party slain was English, and
no stranger, yet afterwards by the statute 4 Edward III, the killing
any foreigner under the King's protection, out of evil design or
malice, is murder; upon which statute these offenders were tried and
found guilty at Launceston of wilful murder, both by the grand and
petty juries, and had sentence of death passed accordingly upon them,
and were all executed, except the said Lady Killigrew, the principal
agent and contriver of the barbarous fact, who, by the interest and
favour of Sir John Arundell, of Tolverne, Knt., and his son-in-law,
Sir Nicholas Hals, of Pengersick, Knt., obtained of Queen Elizabeth a
pardon or reprieve for the said lady, which was seasonably put into
the Sheriff of Cornwall's hands.

"At the news whereof the other condemned wretches aforesaid at the
gallows lamented nothing more than that they had not the company of
that old Jezebel Killigrew at that place as in justice they ought to
be (to use their own words), and begged Almighty God that some
remarkable judgment might befall her and her posterity, nay, and all
those that were instrumental in procuring her freedom, and observed
hereupon it was, that her grandson Sir William Killigrew spent the
whole paternal estate of his ancestors, as did Sir Thomas Arundell,
Knt., son of Sir John Arundell, aforesaid, and John Hals, Esq., son of
Sir Nicolas Hals, Knt., in their own times, but alas, several and
public revolutions of this kind; and all other in worldly affairs are
carried on by the judgment and providence of God, not the
determination of men, especially such barbarous ruffians as these
criminals, though these things happened according to the malefactors'
direful imprecations in some sense."

Hals in the above account makes several blunders. The affair to which
he alludes took place in January, 1583, and the Dame Killigrew who was
involved in it was Mary, wife of Sir John, the grandfather of the Sir
John who divorced his wife Jane. Another mistake is that the ship was
not one of the Hanseatic town merchant vessels, but was Spanish.
Moreover, Hals is wrong in saying that the two Spanish merchants were
murdered. On the contrary, Lady Killigrew's ruffians threw overboard
and drowned the whole ship's crew, with the exception of the two
merchants, who were on shore and so escaped.

The facts are as follows:--

The _Mary_ of S. Sebastian, a Spanish ship of 144 tons burden, owned
by two merchants, John de Chavis and Philip de Oryo, the latter being
as well the captain, arrived in Falmouth harbour on January 1st,
1582-3, and cast anchor within the bar, just under Sir John
Killigrew's house of Arwenack. Here for lack of wind it remained, and
the owners went on shore and took up their quarters in an inn at
Penryn, awaiting a favourable breeze. At this time there was no open
breach of peace between England and Spain. It was not till 1585 that
Elizabeth sent over an army into the Netherlands to oppose the forces
of Philip II, and despatched a fleet under Sir Francis Drake into the
West Indies to molest the Spanish galleons and colonies there.

Lady Killigrew seems to have formed a scheme for robbing the merchant
vessel and massacring the crew and the owners, and several efforts
were made to induce the two merchants to quit their inn at Penryn and
return on board, so that the whole of those on the vessel and the
merchants might be got rid of, and not a witness left. However, this
failed; Chavis and Oryo did not return to their ship.

About midnight on 7th January a boatload of men boarded the Spanish
vessel and overpowered the sailors, raised the anchors, and set sail.
The Spaniards were all either butchered or thrown into the sea. The
ship was then taken to Ireland, where she was plundered and the spoil
divided. But before this was done, two of Lady Killigrew's servants,
named Kendal and Hawkins, were sent back to Arwenack with sundry bolts
of Hollands and leather, as the share of Lady Killigrew, her
kinswoman, Mrs. Killigrew, and the maids and servants in the house.

Lady Killigrew was highly incensed at being put off with so little,
but fume as she might she could do nothing, for the ship was on its
way to Ireland. What she did accordingly was to keep all that was sent
on shore for herself, and distribute none of it among her household.

The two merchants now stirred, and laid formal complaint before the
Commissioners for Piracy in Cornwall. Among these was Sir John
Killigrew, the husband of the lady who had contrived or abetted the
act. A meeting was held at Penryn, and sufficient evidence was
produced to implicate Hawkins and Kendal; but this they were able to
rebut by the testimony of Elizabeth Bowden, who kept a small tavern
at Penryn, and who swore that up to the time that the act of piracy
was committed the two men Hawkins and Kendal were drinking in her inn.
The jury returned an open verdict that the ship had certainly been
stolen, but by whom there was no evidence to show.

Chavis and De Oryo were not men disposed to let the matter rest thus,
and having procured a safe conduct to London from the Commissioners,
they proceeded thither, and laid their complaint before the higher
authorities, with the result that the Earl of Bedford instructed Sir
Richard Grenville and Mr. Edmund Tremayne to make a searching
investigation into the affair.

As might be anticipated, this inquiry was more thorough-going and real
than the other, and the truth was at last elicited from witnesses very
reluctant to speak what they knew. The result arrived at was this:--

The whole plot had been contrived by Dame Killigrew, who on the Sunday
in question ordered Hawkins and Kendal to board the Spaniard, along
with a party of sailors and fishermen got together for the purpose.
Moreover, she sent a messenger by boat to the Governor of St. Mawes
Castle, to inform him that the Spanish merchants proposed to sail that
night, and to request him not to hinder them from so doing. The other
castle, that of Pendennis, commanding the entrance to the haven, had
Sir John Killigrew as Governor, and in it all day were harboured the
boarding-party destined to carry off the merchantman.

Hawkins, who was the ringleader, had been sworn to strict secrecy by
Lady Killigrew, who desired to keep the whole transaction from the
knowledge of her husband. The leather that fell to her share was placed
in a cask and buried in the garden at Arwenack. Hawkins and Kendal were
hanged at Launceston, but Lady Killigrew escaped as Hals relates. Sir
John died next year; when Lady Killigrew died is not known.

On the death of the later Sir John in 1633, Arwenack passed to his
nephew, as he left no issue, and that nephew, Sir Peter Killigrew,
married Frances, daughter and co-heiress of Sir Roger Twysden. He had
two daughters, and a son George who came to an untimely end.

He was killed in a drunken brawl in a tavern at Penryn by Walter
Vincent, barrister-at-law, "who," says Hals, "was tried for his life
at Launceston for the fact, and acquitted by the petty jury, through
bribery and indiscreet acts and practices, as was generally said; yet
this Mr. Vincent, through anguish and horror at this accident (as it
was said), within two years after wasted of an extreme atrophy of his
flesh and spirits, that at length at the table whereby he was sitting,
in the Bishop of Exeter's palace, in the presence of divers gentlemen,
he instantly fell back against the wall and died."

Frances, the eldest daughter of Sir Peter Killigrew, married Richard
Erisey, and had a daughter who became the wife of John West, of Bury S.
Edmunds, and by him had a daughter Frances, who married the Hon. Charles
Berkeley, and through their descent the estates, or such as remained of
the old family of Killigrew, passed to the Earl of Kimberley.

The history of the Killigrew family, by Martin Killigrew, was
published in part by Mr. R. N. Worth in the _Journal of the Royal
Institution of Cornwall_, Vol. III (1868-70), and the story of the
seizure of the Spanish vessel by Dame Killigrew was investigated by
Mr. H. M. Whitley, in the _Journal_, Vol. VII (1881-3).


[11] The cup is still in the possession of the Corporation of Penryn.
It is of silver, will hold about three quarts, and is inscribed: "From
Mayor to Mayor of the town of Penryn, where they received me in great
misery. Jane Killygrew, 1613."

                      TWO NATURALISTS IN CORNWALL

The two men of science of whom a sketch is about to be given here were
neither of them Cornishmen by birth and parentage, but, inasmuch as a
long stretch of the life of each was spent in the delectable duchy, and
as both were well known in it and made it the principal field of their
labours, they deserve a place in this collection. These two men are John
Ralfs, the botanist, and George Carter Bignell, the entomologist.

John Ralfs was born September 13, 1807, at Millbrook, near
Southampton. His father, Samuel Ralfs, died when he was a year old,
and to his mother was entrusted his early training. From an early age
he manifested a passionate love of flowers, and as he grew older an
interest in chemistry. Probably on this latter account he decided on
the medical profession, and whilst studying medicine he prosecuted
botanical research, so that on passing his final examination the
President of the Royal College of Surgeons complimented him on his
botanical knowledge, and predicted that the world would one day hear a
good deal of this then "beardless boy."

He married a Miss Newman, and by her had a son, but they were in every
way an ill-suited pair, and after a while they agreed to part, and she
went to reside in France, taking her son with her.

Fortunately for science, Ralfs' health would not stand the arduous and
anxious life of a village doctor, and he threw up his profession and
wandered about in the south of England, a friendless, reserved, and
taciturn man, devoting all his time and attention to botany. He
settled finally in Penzance, in the year 1837, and became a familiar
personality in the west of Cornwall, rambling over the moors, creeping
into bogs, often on hands and knees, searching for rare plants; "a
terror to timid ladies, who would scuttle away like frightened rabbits
at the sight of this dark, strange man hanging over some deep pool,
peering with his short-sighted eyes into what was to him a paradise,
and perhaps calling out aloud, forgetful that he and nature were not
alone, 'I see him! I've got him!' And often he would be seen resting
on a stile, weary with his wanderings, his hat and coat almost as
green as the grass on one of his favourite bogs, the marks of his last
fray fresh upon them, his collar disappearing, apparently, in vain
search of his cravat; gazing absently into the distance, where he saw,
doubtless, beautiful and rare specimens of his Algæ and Diatomaceæ."

Mr. Ralfs was never so happy as when alone; he did not care for
society, least of all that of women, and grievous deafness made it
difficult for him to engage in conversation. Even with men of science
like himself he did not care to associate, except through written
correspondence. At Penzance he was generally regarded as "a bit
total," a little, perhaps not a little, off his head; but no one could
have other than a kind word to say of him, for he never injured any
one. Occasionally his son came from France to pay his father a visit;
but such visits were brief; their tastes were not the same, and their
outlook into life was different.

Mr. Ralfs wrote a good deal. He contributed to the proceedings of
many learned societies, but especially the Edinburgh Botanical
Society. He was the author of the botanical chapter in the _Guide to
Ilfracombe_, and of the "Sketch of the Botany of West Penwith" in Mr.
J. S. Courtney's _Guide to Penzance_. Mr. J. T. Blight also was
assisted by him in his _Week at the Land's End_. He helped as well in
_English Botany_, by Sir James E. Smith, the figures by James Sowerby.
He composed, moreover, a _Flora of West Cornwall_ that remains in MS.
in the Penzance Public Library.


_From a photograph_]

Late in life he formed a tender attachment for a little child, who had
somehow hitched herself on to him as a companion in his rambles. "The
first overtures were entirely on her own side, and it was some time
before this acquaintance ripened into friendship. She was a delicate
child, and her playfellow--for such he became--prescribed Fresh Air
and no Lessons; and so off they would go for long country walks, much
to the benefit of her health, but to the detriment of her clothes. Of
the mustard poultice that sometimes these excursions rendered
necessary, and which could not be endured unless he submitted to a
similar infliction; of the delightful dolls' tea parties; of the fairy
tales, translated solely for her amusement from the French and German;
of his selections from Thackeray and Dickens, whose characters were
thus made living people to her; of the wonders that awaited her on S.
Valentine's Day, when, through his skilful management, twenty or
thirty valentines were to arrive for her from different parts of the
country; of the choice variety of sweets he purchased for her stocking
at Christmas; of all this, I wish I could discourse at greater length.
It is sufficient to say that this friendship, thus begun, lasted to
the end of his life, and was the means of relieving to a large extent
that solitude which had before surrounded him.

"On Midsummer Day, when the custom is to wear wreaths of flowers, he
would give free permission to the children to pick all the flowers in
his garden, on condition that they would come to him flower-crowned in
the evening, when he would entertain them royally with fruit and
sweetmeats. On Corpus Christi Pleasure Fair (a red-letter day for
little Cornish children) he would be seen with a small crowd of boys
and girls around him, whom he would treat to all the various shows,
waiting patiently, until their curiosity was satisfied, outside."

One great delight of Mr. Ralfs was the naturalizing of strange plants
in the neighbourhood of Penzance, amongst others the large-flowered
butterwort, and very much amused was he when some local paper with a
flourish of trumpets announced the discovery of the Pinguicula by a
botanical tourist, and a claim put forward that it was indigenous to

John Ralfs died 14 July, 1890, and was buried at Penzance.

       *       *       *       *       *

The second naturalist, Mr. George Carter Bignell, is happily still
alive and in full intellectual vigour, and resides in Saltash. He is a
native of Exeter, having been born in that city in 1826. He was
educated at S. John's Hospital in his native town, but had to leave it
at the age of twelve, when he was placed in a booking-office for
receiving parcels and booking passengers for the carriers who made the
"Black Lion" their head-quarters when in Exeter. These carriers came
from many small towns from twenty to fifty miles away. The yard and
stabling were connected with the "Black Lion" and the Commercial Inn,
South Street, and opposite was the office. Mr. Bignell says: "Often
have I seen these lumbering wagons with twenty magnificent horses
attached to them start from the office, the driver riding a cob by the
side. Very often such a wagon would be conveying gold from the ships
in Falmouth to the Bank of England, and in that case the wagon was
attended by a guard carrying a blunderbuss."

In this office Mr. Bignell remained till he was sixteen, and in 1842
he joined the Royal Marines at Stonehouse. He saw some foreign
service, and was on board the _Superb_ during the civil war in Spain
in 1847, and was employed on the coasts of Spain and Portugal. He was
in the squadron which succeeded in capturing a division of the rebel
army of Count Das Anton, consisting of about three thousand men.
Boats' crews put off from the ships of the squadron, and under a heavy
fire from the forts boarded and captured every vessel. The prisoners
were conveyed up the river Tagus to Fort S. Julian, where, after being
deprived of arms and ammunition, they were safely lodged.

A guard, consisting of half the complement of marines from each ship,
was placed over them, the whole body under the command of Major

A few days after the capture it was discovered that ammunition was
being surreptitiously conveyed into the fort by friends of the rebels,
and investigation disclosed that a plot had been hatched to blow up
the fort.

Count Das Anton pretended to be wholly ignorant of the conspiracy. The
rebels were paraded, each man searched, and every nook and cranny in
the fort thoroughly overhauled. A large quantity of gunpowder was
found, and this was promptly wheeled to the parapets in barrows and
thrown into the Tagus.

The guard placed over this large body of prisoners was small, and to
overawe the prisoners all the marines from the ships were landed every
evening at sunset and marched with fixed bayonets to the fort, with
orders to make as much noise and clatter as they could; and then at
night, when all was still, they stole silently away from the fort and
returned on board. So well was the ruse practised every day that the
prisoners were under the impression that they were guarded by a large
body, and never suspected the truth. The time at the fort was not very
pleasant to the marines on guard, as the place was filthy and
literally swarmed with fleas, and their white drill suits were so
covered with these detestable insects that the marines appeared to be
dressed in brown instead of white clothing.

This was Mr. Bignell's only taste of active service. When the _Superb_
was paid off he was employed in several offices in the barracks, first
as commanding officer's clerk, and afterwards he was appointed to the
barracks at Millbay as barrack sergeant, and he held this appointment
for seven years. By the end of this time he had served twenty-two
years. Throughout all this time he had been a keen and close observer
of nature. From his boyhood up natural history had exercised a great
attraction for him, and as he grew up, and studied, the subject became
more and more interesting. During his last seven years of service he
made considerable progress, for as a barrack sergeant he had little
work to do, and so had plenty of time to devote to his hobby.

After being discharged he became a member of the Plymouth Institution,
with the object of finding out the names of some of the insects he had
captured, and was surprised to find that it had nothing like them in
its collection, nor could anybody tell him what they were.

[Illustration: JOHN RALFS

_Reproduced by permission of Miss Loveday E. Drake_]

Mr. Bignell had barely retired from the service ere he was appointed
Registrar of Births and Deaths for the Stonehouse district and also
Poor Law Officer to the Stonehouse Board of Guardians; but his
residence is in Saltash. All his spare time has for many years been
given up to scientific pursuits, the branch of science to which he is
most partial being entomology; but since his residence in Saltash he
has been a profound student in marine flora. It is not only in the
study of the known and hitherto unregistered insects that Mr. Bignell
has acquired a world-wide fame; he has specially taken up the subject,
hitherto almost untouched, of the parasites that live on insects.

To grasp what has been done by him an examination must be made of the
entomological journals for the last forty years, for there he is
generally in evidence. In the proceedings of the Entomological Society
of London Mr. Bignell's name is quoted as being the discoverer of
fifty-one parasites, nineteen being new to science and thirty-two new to
Britain. In recognition of this work, one of the new species has been
named after him _Mesoleius Bignellii_. The Royal Cornwall Polytechnic
Society have awarded him three of their medals, a bronze one for "land
and fresh water shells," a silver one for a "collection of British
moths," and a second silver medal for "butterflies and moths."

In the publications of the Ray Society on the _Larvæ of British
Butterflies and Moths_, at the end of each volume we find a list of
parasites preying on these beautiful insects, "kindly prepared by Mr.
G. C. Bignell, F.E.S."

One of the most extraordinary features of Mr. Bignell's work is the
infinite delicacy wherewith even now at an advanced age he is able to
draw and colour his specimens. The miniature painter of a beautiful
girl's face a century ago did not take more pains to delineate the
object of his admiring study than does Mr. Bignell to obtain a
"counterfeit presentment" of some disgusting caterpillar or parasitic

The hunting for specimens would be an exhausting toil were it not a
labour of love. On one occasion Mr. Bignell obtained one hundred and
forty-one caterpillars of a certain moth in Whitsand Bay, under Fort
Tregantle. They were feeding on henbane, and as he did not know where
else to get the right sort of food for them, he had to go out two or
three times a week for the food, walking in all a hundred miles. But,
alas for the ingratitude of the caterpillars, not a single moth
rewarded all this devotion! Yet even this was outdone by a hundred and
thirty-five mile walk in the dark to attempt to capture one sort of
moth, which perhaps deserves to be mentioned for its elusive ways. It
is called the _Dasycampa rubiginea_, and has to live up to its name.
Plym Bridge was supposed to be its haunt, and its time of taking its
walks or flutter abroad, night, and that also in midwinter. So night
after night in November and December it was stalked, till one night,
between the 6th and 7th December, the moth was spotted leisurely
sipping honey from the flowers of the ivy growing on one of the
pillars of the old gateway leading into Cann Wood between Plym Bridge
and Plympton, just as the clock at Morley House was striking twelve.

A pathetic interest attaches to the large copper butterfly. This
splendid species was first discovered in Wales by the celebrated
botanist Hudson. It was subsequently captured in considerable numbers
about Whittlesea Mere, in Huntingdonshire. Now, alas! it is extinct,
and a specimen such as one possessed by Mr. Bignell is worth some
pounds. The last secured was in 1847. Greedy collectors and dealers
from London, after its discovery, were waiting for it, and offered the
country yokels five shillings for every caterpillar secured. Now it is
as extinct as the dodo and the great auk.

There would seem to be no living creature that is not a home and
feeding ground for parasites; even the butterflies are infested with
them, and probably these parasites also have others infinitely small
that attack them.

          Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite 'em,
          And little fleas have lesser fleas--and so _ad infinitum_.

One of the most interesting discoveries made by Mr. Bignell is that a
creature like a scorpion--but all claw--that is found upon the common
house-fly is not a true parasite. It likes a ride, and to do it cheap.
And when a fly comes within reach, it lays hold of it with its
disproportionately huge claws, clings, and has a ride, free, gratis
and for nothing. When it has seen enough of the world and is tired, it
lets go and drops off.

Says Mr. Bignell: "The Blossom Underwing is a moth that was very
abundant on the male flowers of the great sallow on April 13th, 1866.
Previously this moth was very scarce; but on this night I saw at least a
thousand; they were all in pairs, and each pair occupied a flower, a
sight never to be forgotten. The fine flowering scrubby oaks were
swarming with the larvæ. A friend of mine who kept birds in a very large
cage, seeing the abundance of the caterpillars, decided to give his
birds a treat; he accordingly gathered about a pint of them, carried
them home, and instead of giving the birds two or three at a time, he
incautiously put the tin into the cage and removed the lid. At once the
caterpillars began to escape, and the seething mass of black and yellow
wriggling over the floor, crawling about the wires, so frightened the
birds that it caused the death of two of three, which beat themselves
against the cage in vain hope to escape from these uncanny horrors."

As may be well imagined, Mr. Bignell with his lantern stealing up the
side of a hedge in the night often enough routed the poachers and sent
them flying, thinking they were being watched by a policeman. On one
occasion he scared an owl. "I was enjoying myself, on my knees,
hunting over the contents of my net that I had used for sweeping the
low foliage, to see what captures I had made. My nose and bull's-eye
lantern were thrust close to the ground, to prevent anything escaping
observation. In the midst of this occupation an owl swooped down to
see what was up, when I turned my lantern on him, and away he flew in
a mighty hurry, bringing the back of his wings together with great
force, like a man clapping his hands. He was evidently in great alarm,
and uttered an unearthly scream. It certainly gave me also a turn, it
was so sudden."

All moths with highly pectinated antennæ, that is to say with their
feelers comb-like at the extremities, have the most extraordinary
power of scenting a female moth at a great distance, even two or three
miles, with a favourable wind.

Mr. Bignell says: "I once had a virgin female of the Oak-egger moth,
and was desirous of getting some males. I started off with the lady in
a tin box, with a perforated zinc top, to give her air and allow her
perfume to escape. I walked through the fields towards Milehouse to
where was a turnstile; and at this spot lighted on a weary policeman
resting. As it was a dull day, without any token of the sun breaking
out, to attract butterflies for their usual gambols, the policeman
jeeringly remarked that I had missed the right day. I replied that I
thought not, and that I could collect as many as I desired, in fact, I
could make them come to me. He laughed incredulously. I then took out
my tin box and placed it on the wall, and, magician-like, whistled and
waved my hand. The policeman stared, and thought I was befooling him.
But lo, in two or three minutes one male alighted close to the box,
soon followed by others, and in a quarter of an hour I had at least
fifty, and so tame that I picked them up with my fingers and
distributed them among about a dozen people who had gathered to see
what I was about. The policeman stared with open eyes and mouth, quite
satisfied that my whistle and mysterious signs in the air with my hand
had called the insects to me. Satisfied with what I had got I waved
again and bade the moths depart, and clapped the box in my pocket.
Next day I took the empty box out with me into the country. I had
several males following me, and some actually penetrated into my
pocket where was the empty box, proving that the perfume still
remained in it, though wholly imperceptible to myself."

On one occasion Mr. Bignell and a friend set out at night to find the
beautiful moth _Heliophobus hispidus_, knowing its haunts, between the
south side of the Plymouth citadel and the sea, where it is to be
found in September or October resting on the grass.

Accordingly, each furnished with a bull's-eye lantern, they visited
the locality, but it was some time before one was discerned, and that
was on a blade of grass overhanging the cliff and out of reach, a
sheer drop of twenty feet at least into the sea fretting and moaning
below. Loath to miss it, as its eyes shone like two rubies--in fact,
both saw those glistening eyes before they observed that they were in
the head of the moth--they arranged that one should lie flat on his
stomach, and that Mr. Bignell should sit down, dig the heels of his
boots into the turf, then take his friend by the legs and thrust him
over the edge of the cliff, so far as to enable him to box the moth,
whilst holding the handle of his lantern between his teeth. This was
done, and the _Heliophobus_ was secured.

But, after all, it is in the direction of parasites living upon
insects that Mr. Bignell has made the greatest research. He is the
possessor of a unique collection of the parasites that live on the
aphis, and also of the hyper-parasite which preys upon that parasite.
The life-history of this insect was unknown till Mr. Bignell detected
a hyper-parasite pierce the aphis which was itself a parasite. The
specimen was secured, and from it was bred the hyper-parasite itself.

The life-story of the aphis, that tiny green pest that infests the
roses, has been unrolled by this enthusiastic student, and is full of
surprises. The ichneumon fly as well has been watched, and all its
wicked acts recorded.

Caterpillars, so fat and fleshy, form a delightful feeding ground for
the deposit of eggs, and serve as luscious food for the young to
pasture upon. We human beings, in common with all mammals, have the
obligation imposed on us of nourishing our own young, and with some of
us we go on sustaining them till we are exhausted in the process, but
the ichneumonidæ are more clever than we. They make others, notably
the caterpillars, maintain their young, and the frivolous mothers,
after having once deposited their eggs, gad about and enjoy themselves
as having no concern for their future well-being. It is a comfort to
reflect that the insects thus preyed upon do not seem to suffer much,
if at all, and it may almost be said that they exhibit a maternal
regard for the young bred out of their bodies.

With his wonderful microscopes Mr. Bignell can explore far down the
ladder of life, but whether to its lowest rung may well be doubted.
There is always some living being to be found preying on the last of
the minutest creature last seen.

After a visit to Mr. Bignell's house in Saltash with a friend, I
turned to him and said: "I came here believing myself to be an
Individual. I leave knowing myself to be a Community."

                          SIR JOHN CALL, BART.

The _Dictionary of National Biography_ says of Sir John Call that he
was "descended from an old family which, it is said, once owned
considerable property in Devon and Cornwall." That proviso "it is
said" is conveniently inserted. Anything may be said, as that the cow
jumped over the moon, but that a saying may be believed we must know
who uttered it. Now the originator of this saying was probably William
Playfair, in his _British Family Antiquity_, 1809. In that the
following interesting statement occurs: "From papers in the possession
of the family, partly fabulous, though partly true, it appears that
the family of the Calls, consisting of three brothers, came into
England from Saxony towards the end of the eighth century. One of
these brothers settled in Scotland, from whom is descended the clan of
the McColls; the second in Norfolk, where the family continued until
the beginning of the last (eighteenth) century; and the third settled
in Cornwall, from whence the present family derives its origin. This
very ancient, but latterly not very opulent family, was formerly
possessed of considerable landed property both in Devonshire and
Cornwall, which was first reduced by the civil wars in the time of
Henry VII, and afterwards nearly annihilated, in consequence of the
loyal attachment of some of its individuals to the royal cause during
the civil wars in the reign of Charles I."

[Illustration: SIR JOHN CALL, BART.

_From a portrait (by A. Hickle) in the possession of his
great-granddaughter, Mrs. de Lacy Lacy_]

Why was the eighth century fixed on for the advent of the Calls upon
the scene? Presumably because the first Norsemen arrived in 787.
Conceive the Calls coming over in a dragon ship, filled with berserker
rage, to ravage England and glut themselves with our blood.

But we shall look for Calls in vain among the records of the past. As
it happens, Saxons and Northmen had no family, only personal names.
The story is as absurd as that also put forth that Callington derived
its name from the Calls, who only settled near it in 1770.

But these "family papers" are not so ancient as Sir John Call, who
would have been above such a pretence. As a matter of fact, the
account supplied to Playfair shows a surprising ignorance in the
writer as to the existence of Heralds' Visitations, Inquisitiones post
mortem, Wills, Royalist Composition Papers, Parish Registers, and all
the material at hand to confirm or disprove reckless genealogical
assertions. Playfair does admit that the story contained in the
"family papers" is "partly fabulous." He might have said that it was
fabulous from beginning to end.

The Calls had no right whatever to bear arms, till a grant was made to
them--after reading the above flourish not inappropriate--of three

The MS. "Names of Gentlemen in Devonshire and Cornwall with their
Arms," drawn up by John Hooker, _alias_ Vowell, in 1599, is the only
armoury of the West that gives the name of Call with arms: Party per
pale or and gules; upon a chief az. 3 geese sable. But he gives no
indication of place where such a gentleman possessed land--and that,
before this "opulent family" had been ruined by the civil wars. Hooker
probably included the name, because, at the time, there was some
gentleman Call from another part of England living in Exeter. That
the Calls of Whiteford had no claim to his arms, nor could exhibit
descent from him, is shown by their not adopting his coat. In a MS.
armoury of all England dating from 1632, that belonged to C. Pole, the
name and arms of Call do not occur.

According to Foster's _Baronetage_, the Calls hailed from Prestacott,
in Launcells.

Actually the great-grandfather of Sir John was of Grove, in Stratton,
a tenant farmer. A good many Calls appear in the register of the
parish, never with _gent._ appended to the name, or even with Mr.
preceding it, a title generally accorded to a yeoman or a well-to-do
tradesman; and one in 1735 is buried as a pauper. Their marriages also
show to what class they belonged, with the Uglows, Tanners, and the
Jewells, in a humble walk of life.

John Call, described as of Prestacott, in Launcells, was born in 1680,
and in 1702 married Sarah Jewell, and died in 1730.

Prestacott consisted of three very small farms on the right-hand side
of the old road from Stratton to Holsworthy. Of late years the
ramshackle buildings have been pulled down and the lands thrown
together and constituted one farm, and a new house has been built. It
belonged at the time that John Call rented one of these little
holdings to the Orchards of Hartland Abbey. John Call had two sons,
John and Richard. John was born 1st March, 1704-5, and married Jane,
daughter of John Mill, of Launcells, "the descendant of a respectable
family, which had considerable possessions there, as well as in
Middlesex," says Playfair. He might have added with equal truth that
they possessed castles in the air. As it happens, the Visitations of
Cornwall and Lysons knew nothing of the family of Mill. The Mills were
of Shernick, a farm in Launcells, which they rented of the Arundels
of Trerice. Their ledger-stones are in the parish church, but they are
never described as _gents._ Mrs. Judith Mill was buried on October
14th, 1723, and Mr. John Mill on December 1st in the same year, and
Mr. Richard Mill on July 11th, 1766.

Sarah Call, widow of John Call (without even Mr. and Mrs. prefixed),
was buried on February 1st, 1747-8. Shernick is now the property of
Sir C. T. Acland, Bart., inherited through an heiress in the
nineteenth century of the Arundels.

John Call, who married Jane Mill, had a son, the subject of this
memoir. Afterwards, when this son was rich, he set up a tablet to the
memory of his father in Launcells Church, on which he gives him the
title of "gent."

                In Memory of John Call gent of Shernick
          in this parish, and of Whiteford in Stoke Climsland.
              He was interred in this church 3 Jan. 1767,
               aged 63. Also of Jane Call his widow, who
                   was interred 9 Nov. 1781, aged 70.
               Also of Jane Jones their daughter, wife of
          the Rev^d Cadwalader Jones, minister of this parish,
               who was here interred 2 April, 1790, aged
                  50, and of their two children, etc.

Concerning Mrs. Cadwalader Jones, more hereafter. The old gentleman,
John Call, had died on December 31st, 1766, going out with the old year.

John, the younger, was born June 30th, 1732, at Fenny Park, near
Tiverton, and was educated at a private school. For some reason or
other, not known, his mother disliked him, and when aged seventeen,
and he had been recommended to the notice of Benjamin Robbins, who was
going out to India, she refused to furnish him with the money required
for his outfit and passage to India, so that his more distant
relatives, probably the Mill family of Shernick, supplied the money.

Benjamin Robbins had composed a treatise on the principles of gunnery
and the price of gunpowder, that was not as yet published, and also an
account of Lord Anson's voyages. He was a mathematician, and had been
appointed chief engineer and captain-general in the East India
Company's service, and he was looking about for commercial clerks who
would serve on a small pay, when Call was recommended to him as a
shrewd lad. John Call was glad of the chance of seeing something of
the world and of escaping from a mother who flouted him, and he
embraced the offer with gladness. Robbins quitted England in 1749, and
arrived with his clerks at Fort William in July, 1750.

Call had been given by Robbins his treatise on explosives to
transcribe for the press, and this interested the young man in the
subject, and he pursued the theme, and made considerable improvements
in rifling barrels. He also introduced one that enabled shells to be
discharged from long guns. When Robbins landed he had with him eight
young clerks, of whom Call was one. Robbins died in July, 1751, and
Call then became the leading engineer.

War broke out among the native princes, backed up upon one side by the
French, on the other by the English, and Call was employed to carry
out the erection of defensive works at Fort S. David. This was an
English settlement near the mouth of the Southern Pennair River, and
was only twelve miles from Pondicherry, the French head-quarters.

Madras, at the mouth of the Triplicane, consisted of the native or
black city and of Fort S. George, which lay on the sea, and was almost
engirdled by the North River that with the Triplicane formed an
island crossed by the main road from Chinglapett and Vandalone.

The French, whilst in possession of Fort S. George, after it had been
taken by Labourdonnais in 1746, had made several improvements and
additions to the slight works they found, which, nevertheless, rendered
the fort little capable of long resistance against the regular
approaches of a European enemy; nor had they given any attention to the
internal area, which did not exceed fifteen acres of ground.
Nevertheless, the English let the place remain in the same state after
its recovery from the French in 1751 till the beginning of the year
1756, when the expectation of another war with that nation, and the
reports of the great preparations making in France against India,
dictated the necessity of rendering it completely defensible; and Call
was employed in the extension and perfecting of the work, that had
received the consideration of Robbins before his decease. Accordingly
all the coolies, labourers, and tank diggers whom the adjacent country
could supply were from this time constantly employed on the
fortifications: their daily number generally amounted to four thousand
men, women, and children. The river channel was diverted, and the old
channel was filled up; very extensive bastions and outworks were
erected; and it was due to this undertaking that Fort S. George was able
to stand successfully against the siege by the Count de Lally in 1759.

In the beginning of the year 1752 Call accompanied Captain (afterwards
Lord) Clive in an expedition against the French, who had possessed
themselves of the province of Arcot, and were plundering up to the
very gates of Madras; and he was with him in his occupation and
subsequent defence of Arcot, during a fifty days' siege. Clive had
marched from Madras with two hundred English soldiers and three
hundred sepoys. He had with him eight English officers, but of these
only two had smelt powder, whilst four, Call among them, were only
commercial clerks forced by Clive's example to draw the sword. The
battle of Coverplank, near Arcot, gained by Captain Clive in the
February of 1752, in which the French lost all their artillery and
were totally dispersed, cleared the province of their influence and
established the English in the garrison of that capital. From Arcot
the victorious army, consisting of about five hundred Europeans and
one thousand natives, marched through the country back to Fort S.
David, when Mr. Call was appointed chief engineer at Madras, and
eventually of all the Coromandel coast.

In 1753 the French under Bussy and Dupleix were full of schemes to
retrieve the honour of their arms, and to obtain the absolute empire
of the Deccan and the south. In that year, the cession of five
important provinces had made them masters of the sea-coast of
Coromandel and Orissa for an uninterrupted line of six hundred miles,
and also furnished the convenient means of receiving reinforcements of
men and military stores from Pondicherry and Mauritius. But neither
the Court of Versailles nor the French India Company at home had
approved the grand projects of Bussy and Dupleix. The Court questioned
the propriety of these wars with the English in a time of peace, and
the Company was impatient at the cost of these wars, and doubted
whether the territorial acquisitions could be maintained profitably to
themselves. The English Company also was impatient at the heavy
outlay, and was willing to leave the French in possession of the
Northern Circars; but Dupleix was not to be restrained. He saw further
into the future than did the merchants of Paris; he perceived that an
unrivalled opportunity was open to him to make all India tributary to
France, and he was determined to seize it. But to do so he must expel
the English. He claimed to be Nabob of the Carnatic, and unless his
authority as such were recognized by the English, he would make no
terms whatever with them. But Dupleix had had his day. His protectors
and admirers were now out of office, and he was recalled to France.

As soon as war had been declared in Europe, the Government of Louis XV
commenced preparations on a large scale for an expedition to the East,
and the arrival of a great armament was daily expected at Pondicherry.

It was not, however, until 28th April, 1758, that a squadron of twelve
vessels reached the coast. These ships had on board a regiment of
infantry eleven hundred strong, a corps of artillery, and a number of
officers, all under the command of the Count de Lally, a veteran
officer of Irish extraction, who had been all his life in the service
of France. He had been appointed Governor-General of the French
possessions in India. He was a man of great ability and ambition, and
was animated by intense and passionate hatred of England. Had he been
supported from home, he would almost certainly have made France
predominant in the peninsula. No sooner was he landed than he
organized an expedition against Fort S. David, and in June, 1758, he
captured it. He then prepared to take Madras as a preliminary to an
advance on Bengal, and he hoped to drive the English out of Calcutta.
But he was without resources; there was no money to be had at
Pondicherry. At last he raised a small sum, chiefly out of his own
funds, and began the march to Madras; his officers preferring to risk
death before the walls of Madras to certain starvation within the
walls of Pondicherry. Lally reached Madras on the 12th December, 1758,
and at once took possession of the black or native town, commanded by
Fort S. George, and began the siege of that fort with vigour. Call was
within. It was due to him that the defences were in such a condition
that the garrison could look with confidence to withstand a siege. We
hear, indeed, nothing of any active part taken by him during the
progress of the siege, but undoubtedly his knowledge and talent had
much to do with rendering the defence effective. The real command was
with Major Laurence and Mr. Pigot. The total force collected was 1758
Europeans and 2220 sepoys. On the other side Lally had an army of 2700
Europeans and 4000 native troops.

On 14th December the French took possession of the black town, which
was open and defenceless; and there the soldiers, breaking open some
arrack stores, got drunk and mad, and committed great disorders.

Taking advantage of this, a sortie was resolved upon, and six hundred
chosen men, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Draper and Major
Brereton, with two field-pieces, rushed into the streets of the black
town. Unluckily the drummers, who were all little black boys, struck
up the "Grenadiers' March" too soon and gave warning to the French,
who left off their drinking and plundering, and, running to their
arms, drew up at a point where the narrow streets crossed at right
angles. Those who were drunk were joined by those who were sober, till
the whole number far exceeded that of the English detachment. If
Bussy, who was at hand, had made one of the bold and rapid movements
which he had been accustomed to make when acting on his own
responsibility, he might have taken the English in rear. But he was
sulky, and jealous of Lally, and remained inert. When Draper saw that
he must retreat, he found that all his drummer-boys who should sound
the recall had run away. He, however, managed to bring off his troops,
leaving two field-pieces behind, and having lost or killed, wounded
and prisoners, about two hundred men.

The siege dragged on. Most of Lally's heavy artillery was still at
sea, and a corps of sepoys captured and spiked his only 13-inch
mortar, which was coming by land. All his warlike means were as
deficient as those of the garrison were perfect, and dissensions and
ill-will against him increased among his officers.

For six weeks the French were without any pay, and during the last
fifteen days they had no provisions except rice and butter. Then the
ammunition of the besiegers failed. On the 15th February, 1759, he
resolved on raising the siege. He had thrown away his last bomb three
weeks before, and he had blazed away nearly all his gunpowder. Pouring
forth invectives and blaming every one but himself, Lally decamped on
the night of the 17th as secretly and expeditiously as he could.

In March, 1760, Call was employed in reducing Karikal, and at the
latter end of the year and in the beginning of 1761 he was employed as
chief engineer under Sir Eyre Coote in the reduction of Pondicherry,
which, after it had been battered furiously during two days,
surrendered at discretion. Then the town and fortifications were
levelled with the ground. A few weeks after the strong hill-fortress
of Gingi surrendered, and the military power of the French in the
Carnatic was brought to an end.

In 1762 Call had the good fortune, when serving under General
Cailland, to effect the reduction of the strong fortress of Vellore,
one hundred miles west of Madras, which has since been the _point
d'appui_ of the English power in the Carnatic.

In July, 1763, Mahomed Usuff Cawn, a native of great military talent,
employed in the service of the English, for usurping the government of
Madura and Tinnevelly, the two southernmost provinces of the
peninsula, had to be dealt with summarily. A considerable force
marched against him, under the command of Colonel Monson, of His
Majesty's 69th Regiment. Call acted as chief engineer under him, till
the heavy rains in October obliged the English army to retire from
before Madura. Eventually that place and Palamata were reduced, and
Mahomed Usuff Cawn was taken and hanged.

At the latter end of 1764 Call went into the Travancore country to
settle with the Rajah for the arrears of tribute due to the Nabob of
Arcot. Having satisfactorily accomplished that business and other
concerns with southern princes, he returned to Madras in January,
1765, and took his seat at the Civil Council, to which he was entitled
by rotation, and he obtained the rank of colonel.

During a great part of the war with Hyder Ali in 1767 and 1768 Call
accompanied the army into the Mysore country, and whilst he was there
the Company advanced him to the third seat in the Council, and he was
strongly recommended by Lord Clive to succeed to the government of
Madras on the first vacancy. But news reached him of the death of his
father, and he made up his mind to return to England. He had
managed to scrape together a very considerable fortune, and he desired
to spend the rest of his days in the enjoyment of it. He embarked on
February 8th, 1770, after a service of nearly twenty years, and he
landed at Plymouth on July 26th.


_From a drawing in the possession of Mrs. de Lacy Lacy_]

He bought Whiteford, in the parish of Stoke Climsland, and greatly
enlarged the house. In 1771 he was appointed Sheriff of Cornwall, and
in March, 1772, he married Philadelphia, third daughter of Wm. Battye,
M.D., a somewhat distinguished physician living in Bloomsbury.

From this period till the autumn of 1782 he lived in retirement at

Whilst in India, Call had not forgotten his parents and sister at
home, and had sent to his mother priceless Indian shawls, which she,
not knowing their value, cut up and turned into under-petticoats for
herself and daughter and maids. A pipe of Madeira sent to the father
was also as little appreciated. It was distributed among the
farm-labourers during harvest time to economize the cider.

Now that he was in England and wealthy, he resolved on doing something
for his sister. She had married Cadwalader Jones, the vicar of the
parish, and the vicarage was a small, mean building, so Cadwalader
Jones had taken the manor house that was near the church on a long
lease from the Orchards, who were lords of the manor. This house had
been a cell of Hartland Abbey, but at the Restoration had been given
to the Chammonds. That family had died out, and now it had come to the
Orchards, owners of Hartland Abbey. Call rebuilt the house, or, to be
more exact, built on a modern house to the old, and installed
Cadwalader and his sister in the new mansion; he also made for them a
large walled garden. When he did this, he was under the impression
that the property belonged to Cadwalader, and not till he had
completed his building did he learn that Mr. Jones had only a lease of
it. Moreover, Mrs. Jones did not live to enjoy the new house very
long, as she died in 1780, and then Cadwalader married again. In
course of time Cadwalader went to join his ancestors, and thereupon
Mr. Hawkey saw and loved the widow and the mansion, and married her.
Thus it came about that the manor house built for Mrs. Jane Jones
passed into other hands. But thus it happens also that through Miss
Charlotte Hawkey we have some account of Sir John Call.

Lord Shelburne, when Prime Minister, being desirous of investigating
some of the existing abuses and reforming some of the public
departments, fixed on Call and engaged him along with Mr. Arthur
Holdsworth, of Dartmouth, to inquire into the state and management of
Crown lands, woods, and forests, which had long been neglected; Call
had seen this with regard to the Duchy property at his doors, and had
drawn attention to it. In November, 1782, they made their first
report; but a change of Ministry taking place soon after, their
proceedings were interrupted till the Duke of Portland, then First
Lord of the Treasury, authorized them to continue their investigation.
Before they had gone far another change took place in the Ministry,
and Pitt became Prime Minister. These frequent interruptions
interfered with the progress of the investigation, and to obviate
that, in 1785-6 Sir Charles Middleton, Call, and Holdsworth were
appointed permanent Parliamentary Commissioners.

Call became a banker, a manufacturer of plate-glass, and a
copper-smelter. He designed and saw to the execution of the Bodmin gaol
in 1779. He was elected M. P. for Callington in 1784, and retained his
seat till 1801. On July 28th, 1791, he was created a baronet, and
granted as his arms, _gules_, _three trumpets fessewise in pale, or_; as
crest, a _demi-lion ramp. holding between the paws a trumpet erect, or_.

By his wife he had six children. In 1785 he purchased the famous house
of Field-Marshal Wade, in Old Burlington Street. He became totally blind
in 1795, and died of apoplexy at his residence in town on March 1st,
1801, and was succeeded in the baronetcy by his son, William Pratt Call,
who died in 1851, leaving a son, William Berkeley Call, the third
baronet, who died in 1864, and with the son of this latter, Sir William
George Montague Call, the fourth baronet, the title became extinct. It
will be noticed that the two last affected aristocratic Christian names,
Berkeley and Montague. Whiteford was sold to the Duchy of Cornwall, and
all the noble trees in the park were cut down and turned into money, and
the mansion converted into an office for the Duchy. Davies Gilbert, in
his _Parochial History of Cornwall_, tells a couple of anecdotes of Sir
John, but they are too pointless to merit repetition.

Call was one of those admirable, self-made men who have been
empire-makers in the East, and, better than that, have been makers of
the English name as synonymous with all that is powerful and true and
just. He well deserved the title accorded to him. He was a man of whom
Cornwall may be proud, and it needed no trumpets in his arms and
fictions about the origin of his family to make the name honourable.

As Dr. Johnson said, "There are some families like potatoes, whose
only good parts are underground."

The authorities for the life of Sir John Call are Playfair's _British
Family Antiquity_, 1809; Clement R. Markham's _Memoir on the Indian
Surveys_, 1878; H. G. Nicholl's _Forest of Dean_; and _Neota_, by
Charlotte Hawkey, 1871.

The grant of the baronetcy to Sir John Call, dated 1795, is now in the
Museum of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, at Truro.

                               JOHN KNILL

In August, 1853, appeared the following account in the _Gentleman's

"An eccentric old gentleman of the name Knill, a private secretary some
fifty or sixty years ago to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, becoming
afterwards collector of the port of S. Ives, built a three-sided pyramid
of granite on the top of a high hill, near the town of S. Ives. The
pyramid is represented as a pocket edition of an Egyptian one, and in it
this gentleman caused a chamber to be built, with a stone coffin, giving
out his intention to be buried there, and leaving a charge on an estate
to the corporation of S. Ives for the maintenance and repair, etc., of
the pyramid. He, however, died in London; and by his latest will, so far
from perpetuating the ostentatious idea, desired that his body should be
given up to the surgeons for dissection, a penance, it is supposed, for
past follies, after which the remains were buried in London. The
pyramid, however, still stands as a landmark. On one side, in raised
letters in granite, appear the words 'Hic jacet nil.' It was understood
that the 'K' and another 'l' would be added when the projector should be
placed within; and on the other side, 'Ex nihilo nil fit,' to be filled
up in like manner, Knill. The mausoleum obtained then, and still bears
the name of Knill's Folly."

This account, full of inaccuracies, called forth a letter to the
editor from a relative of John Knill, at Penrose, by Helston, dated
October, 1853, which appeared in the November issue of the same
magazine. He stated that John Knill was educated for the law, but did
not adopt it as a profession. He preferred to accept the office of
collector of customs at S. Ives. After a while he was sent as
Inspector-General of Customs to the West Indies, whence he returned to
his duties at S. Ives, after having discharged his office of
inspectorship. In 1777 the Earl of Buckinghamshire, who was recorder
of S. Ives, invited Mr. Knill to accompany him to Ireland as his
private secretary, when he, the earl, had been made lord-lieutenant.
The offer was accepted.

In 1782, thirty years before his death, he erected the mausoleum,
partly actuated by a philanthropic motive as affording a landmark to
ships approaching the port, and partly by a wish to find employment
for men at a time of considerable distress, having also a desire to be
buried there, if the ground could be consecrated. This intention was
afterwards abandoned.

Mr. Knill resided for some years previous to his death in Gray's Inn,
and was a bencher of that society. He died there in 1811, and was
buried in the vaults of S. Andrew's, Holborn. On one side of the
monument is the word "Resurgam." On the second side, "I know that my
Redeemer liveth," and on the third is no inscription at all, and the
silly puns given by the informant of the _Gentleman's Magazine_ had no
existence save in the imagination of the correspondent.

The same writer adds: "Though he had a wide circle of acquaintances
and he was highly esteemed by all who knew him, he resisted every
invitation to dine in private society, and for many years past
dined at Dolly's Coffee House, Paternoster Row, walking through the
chief avenues of the town in the course of the day, in order to meet
his friends and to preserve his health by moderate exercise."

[Illustration: JOHN KNILL

_After a picture by Opie in the possession of Captain Rogers of

We are able to supplement this scanty record from a memoir of him by Mr.
John Jope Rogers, of Penrose, published in 1871 by Cunnack, of Helston.

John Knill was born at Callington on January 1st, 1733. His mother was
a Pike of Plympton, and her mother was an Edgcumbe of Edgcumbe, it is
stated in the memoir, but no entry of any such marriage is in the
pedigree of the Edgcumbes in Vivian's _Heralds' Visitations of Devon_.

Mr. Knill was very desirous to trace a descent from the family of
Knill of Knill, in Hereford, but entirely failed to do so.

John Knill's mother, one of the seven daughters of Mr. Pike, married
secondly Mr. Jope, and it is thus that the portrait of the subject of
this memoir came into the possession of Mr. John Jope Rogers, of
Penrose, author of the memoir.

John Knill, according to Davies Gilbert, "served his clerkship as an
attorney in Penzance, and from thence removed to the office of a London
attorney, where, having distinguished himself by application and
intelligence, he was recommended to the Earl of Buckinghamshire, who, at
that time, held the political interests of S. Ives, to be his local
agent." In the year 1762 he was appointed collector of customs at S.
Ives, in Cornwall, and held it during twenty years, at the end of which
time he wrote to Mr. William Praed, March 30th, 1782: "I purpose to be
in London in May, in order to resign my office of collector, which I
shall finally quit at the end of next midsummer quarter."

In November, 1767, he was chosen mayor of S. Ives, and lived in a
red-brick house facing the beach, in Fore Street. Although mayor and
collector of customs, it was strongly believed that he was in league
with smugglers and wreckers.

One day, during the latter half of the eighteenth century, a strange
vessel ran on the rocks on the Hayle side of Carrick Gladden, and the
crew escaped to land and disappeared. The ship, now a derelict, had
apparently no owner, and next day a number of people boarded her, and
found her full of chinaware and other smuggled goods. The ship's
papers could not be found; they had been carried off when the crew
deserted her, and it was strongly supposed that they were destroyed,
as implicating Knill and Praed, of Trevetho. The customs officer,
Roger Wearne, went on board and stuffed his clothes full of china;
having a pair of trousers on with a very ample and baggy seat, he
thought he could not do better than stow away some of the choicest
pieces of porcelain there. But as he was getting down the side of the
ship into the boat, very leisurely, so as not to injure his spoils, a
comrade, getting impatient, struck him on the posteriors with the
blade of his oar, shouting to him, "Look out sharp, Wearne!" and was
startled at the cracking noise that ensued, and the howl of Wearne
when the broken splinters of china entered his flesh.

In 1773 the Government sent him to Jamaica to inspect the ports there;
he remained in the West Indies one year, and used his eyes and ears,
for in 1779 he wrote an account of the religion of the Coromandel
negroes for Bryant Edwards' _History of the West Indies_, from
information he then and there gathered. For his services he received
from the Board of Customs the substantial sum of £1500. He returned to
his duties at S. Ives in 1774. In 1777 he became private secretary
to the Earl of Buckinghamshire, in Dublin, but he returned to S. Ives
after six months in Ireland. In 1779 he speculated in a bootless
search for treasure, which the notorious pirate, Captain John Avery,
was supposed, on his return from Madagascar, to have secreted near the
Lizard. But, as none of the Lives of that freebooter gave any hint of
his having done so, the attempt was not the least likely to lead to
satisfactory results. Davies Gilbert says that Knill equipped some
small vessels to act as privateers against smugglers, but if local
tradition may be relied on, these vessels were only nominally for this
purpose, and were actually engaged in running contraband goods; but
this is highly improbable.


_From the Collection of Percy Bate, Esq. of Glasgow_]

In 1782 he was employed in the service of the customs as inspector of
some of the western ports, making occasional visits to London, where
he settled for the rest of his days. In 1784 he purchased chambers in
Gray's Inn Square, where he died on March 29th, 1811, at the age of
seventy-seven. He was painted by Opie in 1779, dressed in a plain suit
of blue, with frilled shirt and ruffles. He made his half-brother, the
Rev. John Jope, of S. Cleer, his sole executor.

It was in the year 1782 that John Knill erected his mausoleum on Worral
Hill, on land purchased from Henry, Lord Arundell, for five guineas. The
total cost of the monument was £226 1s. 6d. Sixpence a year is paid to
the owner of Tregenna for a right of way to the obelisk. By a deed dated
May 29th, 1797, Knill settled upon the mayor and capital burgesses of S.
Ives, and their successors for ever, an annuity of £10 as a rent-charge,
to be paid out of the manor of Glivian, in Mawgan, which sum is annually
to be put into a chest which is not to be opened except at the end of
every five years. Then, out of the accumulated sum, a dinner was to be
given to the mayor, collector of customs, and vicar of S. Ives, and two
friends to be invited by each of them, and £15 to be equally divided
among ten girls, natives of S. Ives, under ten years old, who should,
between 10 a.m. and noon on S. James the Apostle's Day, dance and sing
round the mausoleum, to the fiddling of a man who was to receive a pound
for so doing and for fiddling as the procession of girls went to the
obelisk and returned. One pound was to be laid out in white ribbons for
the damsels and a cockade for the fiddler. Some of the money was to go
to keep the mausoleum in repair, and there were certain benefactions
also recorded.

The first Knillian celebration took place in July, 1801, when,
according to the will of the founder, a band of little girls, all
dressed in white, with two widows and a company of musicians, marched
in procession to the top of the hill, where they danced about the
monument, then, as Knill desired, sang the Hundredth Psalm to its old
melody, and after that returned in the same order to S. Ives. The
ceremony still takes place every fifth year.

In dancing the children sing the following in chorus:--

          Shun the bustle of the bay,
          Hasten, virgins, come away;
          Hasten to the mountain's brow,
          Leave, O leave, S. Ives below.
          Haste to breathe a purer air,
          Virgins fair, and pure as fair;
          Fly S. Ives and all her treasures,
          Fly her soft voluptuous pleasures;
          Fly her sons and all their wiles,
          Lushing in their wanton smiles;
          Fly the splendid midnight halls;
          Fly the revels of her balls;
          Fly, O fly the chosen seat,
          Where vanity and fashion meet.
          Hither hasten from the ring,
          Round the tomb in chorus sing,
          And on the lofty mountain's brow, aptly dight,
          Just as we should be, all in white,
          Leave all our troubles and our cares below.

                             THOMAS TREGOSS

A certain Roscadden going on a pilgrimage in the days before the
Reformation, and being absent some years, was surprised on his return to
find that his wife had borne one if not more children. Very much and
very naturally put out, he consulted with one John Tregoss, who advised
him to settle his estate upon some friend whom he could trust, for the
use and benefit of his children whom he would own, and for the wife not
to be left absolutely destitute in the event of his death. Mr. Roscadden
approved of this counsel, and constituted John Tregoss his heir
absolutely, but always with the understanding that the said Tregoss
should administer his estate according to the wishes and instructions of
Roscadden. But this gentleman dying soon after, John Tregoss entered on
possession of the estate, "turned the wife and children out of doors,
who for some time were fain to lye in an hog-stye, and every morning
went forth to the Dung-hill, and there upon their faces imprecated and
prayed that the vengeance of God might fall upon Tregoss and his
posterity for this so perfidious and merciless deed.

"And after this, God's severe but righteous judgments fell upon
Tregoss's family. For his son Walter, one day riding upon a Horse in a
fair way, the horse threw him, and broke his neck: and some of his
issue came to untimely ends, and it is observed that a curse hath
remained ever since: and this Mr. Tregoss of whom we write was so
sensible of it, that it cost him many fervent prayers to God for the
removal of that dreadful curse, as himself assured a bosom
friend"--but it does not seem to have occurred to him to give up the
heritage to the Roscaddens--that is, if he were the possessor.

The family of Tregose, or Tregosse, was one of the oldest in the
neighbourhood of S. Ives. The names of Clement and John Tregose of S.
Ives appear in the Subsidy Roll of 1327. In the list of _circa_ 1520,
Thomas Tregoos' lands in Towednack were assessed at the yearly value of
13s. 4d., and those of John Tregoz, in the parish of S. Ives, at 11s.;
but Thomas also had lands at S. Ives, valued the same as those of John.

In 1641, William Tregose, gent., had at S. Ives goods to the annual
value of £3.

Thomas Tregoss, the subject of this notice, was the son of William
Tregoss of S. Ives. His parents were strong Puritans and very austere,
and they hedged about their son with restrictions, not suffering him
to partake in games or any childish relaxations from the strain of
study or the contemplation of religious themes. At first he seemed to
be of poor capacity, but at the age of seven years he began to show
that he had a quick apprehension and a retentive memory. Cut off from
all worldly distractions, he was allowed but one direction in which
his faculties and his ambitions could stretch and expand. He had not
the force of character and strength of will to revolt against the
numbing restraints that bound him in. His only play as a boy was
standing on a chair and preaching to his fellow pupils.

He was sent to Oxford and admitted into Exeter College, and after a
few years spent there, returned to S. Ives; and as the Parliamentary
Commissioners had ejected the vicar, he was thrust in as Puritan
preacher in 1657, and he then married a Margaret Sparrow of the same
way of thinking.

The life of Thomas Tregoss, as given by Samuel Clark in his _Lives of
Some Eminent Persons_, 1683, is interspersed with Remarkable
Providences and Extraordinary Judgments, but for the most part they
are neither remarkable nor interesting.

The following is, perhaps, an exception:--

Shortly after his arrival at S. Ives, in the summer, the greater
portion of the fishing season had passed without the pilchards
appearing, and this to the great distress of the people. By the advice
of Tregoss a day was set apart for humiliation and prayer, and next
day a shoal of pilchards arrived.

In the ensuing summer the fishermen, having taken a great number of
fishes on the Saturday, wanted to spread and dry their nets on the
Sunday. Tregoss learning this, came forth and rebuked and denounced
God's judgment on them if they should profane the "Sabbath" in this
manner. They did not hearken to him, observing that their nets must be
dried or would rot. From that day no more pilchards visited the bay
during that season.

From S. Ives Tregoss was transferred to Mylor in October, 1659, but
was ejected from the living on August 24th, 1660, as not ordained, and
unwilling to receive ordination, and to subscribe to the articles and
confirm to the liturgy. However, he continued to preach to a privately
assembled number of puritanically minded people, and he was proceeded
against and committed to the custody of the marshal in Launceston
gaol, where he remained for three months, and was then released by
order of the Deputy Lieutenant.

In September, 1663, he removed to Kigilliath, near Penryn. On October
1st, 1664, whilst he and his wife were lying awake in bed, they
experienced an earthquake shock, and this he held to be "a symbolick
image of that trembling Heartquake which he shortly felt in his

On January 1st ensuing, he fell into deep despondency and the spirit of
bondage--his liver being probably out of order--till he fancied himself
relieved by receiving the spirit of adoption. He had been converted half
a dozen times before, but never before preceded by an earthquake, so
that there could be no mistake about its reality this time.

Fired with new zeal, he broke into Mabe church at the head of a number
of his adherents, mounted the pulpit, and harangued his congregation.
For this he was arrested and imprisoned again in Launceston gaol, but
was shortly released, July 29th, 1665; and he had the pleasing
satisfaction of knowing that a bull had gored Justice Thomas Robinson,
who had sent him to prison.

Undeterred by what he had gone through, he again invaded Mabe church,
and was again committed to gaol on September 18th, but was once more
released, on December 14th.

On February 4th, 1666, he once more broke into the parish church of
Mabe at the head of a body of Puritans, and was again arrested and
sent to the marshal at Bodmin, but by the order of the King was at
once set free.

In 1669 he was at Great Torrington, where he preached, and was sent to
Exeter gaol, but was at once bailed out. He died at Penryn in January,

On September 4th, 1775, John Wesley preached at S. Ives "in the little
meadow above the town." He wrote in his diary that "the people in
general here (excepting the rich) seem almost persuaded to be
Christians. Perhaps the prayer of their old pastor, Mr. Tregoss, is
answered even to the fourth generation."

                             ANTHONY PAYNE

Anthony Payne, the "Falstaff of the West," was born in the manor
house, Stratton, the son of a tenant farmer, under the Grenvilles of
Stowe. The registers do not go back sufficiently far to record the
date of his birth. The Tree Inn is the ancient manor house in which
the giant first saw the light. He rapidly shot up to preternatural
size and strength. So vast were his proportions as a boy, that his
schoolmates were accustomed to work out their arithmetic lessons in
chalk on his back, and sometimes even thereon to delineate a map of
the world, so that he might return home, like Atlas, carrying the
world on his shoulders for his father with a stick to dust out.

It was his delight to tuck two urchins under his arms, one on each side,
and climb, so encumbered with "his kittens," as he called them, to a
height overhanging the sea, to their infinite terror, and this he would
call "showing them the world." A proverb still extant in Cornwall,
expressive of some unusual length, is "As long as Tony Payne's foot."

At the age of twenty-one he was taken into the establishment at Stowe.
He then measured seven feet two inches in height without his shoes,
and he afterwards grew two inches higher. He was not tall and lanky,
but stout and well proportioned in every way. The original mansion of
the Grenvilles at Stowe still in part remains as a farmhouse. The
splendid house of Stowe, built by the first Earl of Bath, was pulled
down shortly after 1711, and it was said that men lived who had seen
the stately palace raised and also levelled with the dust. This was at
a little distance further inland than the old Stowe that remains. The
Grenvilles had also a picturesque house at Broom Hill, near Bude, with
fine Elizabethan plaster-work ceilings, now converted into labourers'

At Stowe Anthony Payne delighted in exhibiting his strength. In the
hurling-ground a rough block of stone is still pointed out as "Payne's
cast," lying full ten paces beyond the reach whereat the ordinary
player could "put the stone."

It is said that one Christmas Eve the fire languished in the hall. A
boy with an ass had been sent into the wood for faggots. Payne went to
hurry him back, and caught up the ass and his burden, flung them over
his shoulder, and brought both into the hall and cast them down by the
side of the fire.

On another occasion, being defied to perform the feat, he carried a
bacon-hog from Kilkhampton to Stowe. Then came the Civil War, when
Charles I and his Parliament sought to settle their differences on the
battlefield. Cornwall went for the King, and Anthony Payne had the
drilling and manœuvring of the recruits from Kilkhampton and Stratton.
At one time Sir Beville Grenville had his head-quarters at Truro, but
the great battle of Stamford Hill, May 16th, 1643, was fought but eight
miles from Stowe, and on the night preceding it Sir Beville Grenville
slept in his house at Broom Hill. The battle was desperate, the Royalist
soldiers being outnumbered, and attacked; amidst them was Anthony Payne,
mounted on his sturdy cob Samson, rallying his troopers and terrorizing
the enemy, who fled. At the next pitched battle at Lansdown, near
Bath, the forces of the King were defeated and Sir Beville was killed.
Anthony Payne, having mounted John Grenville, then a youth of sixteen,
on his father's horse, had led on the Grenville troops to the fight. The
Rev. R. S. Hawker gives a letter from the giant to Lady Grace Grenville,
conveying to her the news of the death of her husband; but it is more
than doubtful whether this be genuine. He says of it: "It still
survives. It breathes, in the quaint language of the day, a noble strain
of sympathy and homage." It does not exist except in Mr. Hawker's book,
and is almost certainly a fabrication by him.

[Illustration: ANTONY PAYNE

_From the picture by Sir Godfrey Kneller_]

At the Restoration, Sir John Grenville was created Earl of Bath, and
was made governor of the garrison of Plymouth, and he then appointed
Payne halberdier of the guns. The King, who held Payne in great
favour, made him a yeoman of his guards, and Sir Godfrey Kneller, the
Court artist, was employed to paint his portrait.

Whilst in Plymouth garrison an incident occurred that has been
recorded by Hawker. At the mess-table of the regiment, during the
reign of William and Mary, on the anniversary of the day when Charles
I had been beheaded, a sub-officer of Payne's own rank had ordered a
calf's head to be served up. This was a coarse and common annual
mockery of the beheaded king indulged in by the remnants of the old
fanatical Puritan party. When Payne entered the room his comrades
pointed out the dish to him. Anthony flared up, and flung the plate
and its contents out of the window. A quarrel and a challenge ensued,
and at break of day Payne and his antagonist fought with swords on the
ramparts, and Anthony ran the offender through the swordarm and
disabled him, as he shouted, "There's sauce for thy calf's head."

Hawker, who tells the story, supposed that the incident occurred
during the reign of George I. But Anthony died at an age little short
of eighty, and was buried at Stratton July 13th, 1691, and William of
Orange did not die till 1702.

After his death at Stratton, which took place in the house where he
was born, neither door nor stairs would afford egress for the large
coffined corpse. The joists had to be sawn through, and the floor
lowered with rope and pulley, to enable the giant to pass out to his
last resting-place, under the south wall of Stratton Church.[12]

The history of the vicissitudes through which went the painting by
Kneller is peculiarly interesting.

When Stowe was dismantled, on the death of the Earl of Bath, the
picture was removed to Penheale, another Cornish residence of the
Grenville family.

But here the portrait of him who had done so much for the house was
not valued, and was soon forgotten. Gilbert, the Cornish historian, in
one of his rambles, whilst staying at an old inn in Launceston, was
informed that this painting was still extant, and he went to Penheale,
where the farmer's wife occupying the house said that she did indeed
possess "a carpet with the effigy of a large man on it," that had been
given to her husband by the steward on the estate. It was rolled up,
and in a bad and dirty condition. She gladly sold it to C. S. Gilbert
for £8. On Gilbert's death his effects were sold at Devonport, and a
stranger bought it for £42. In London it was recognized as the work of
Kneller, and was resold for the sum of £800. It next appeared amongst
the effects of the late Admiral Tucker, at Trematon Castle; and when
the sale took place this picture was bought by a gentleman in Devon.
Finally Mr. (now Sir) Robert Harvey purchased it, and most generously
presented it to the Royal Institution of Cornwall.

The authorities for Anthony Payne are Hawker's _Footprints of Former
Men in Cornwall_; the _Journal of the R. Inst. of Cornwall_, Vol. X,
1890-1; Wood (E. J.), _Giants and Dwarfs_, 1868.

Next in size to Anthony Payne among big Cornishmen was Charles Chilcott,
of Tintagel, who measured 6 feet 4 inches high, and round the breast 6
feet 9 inches, and who weighed 460 pounds. He was almost constantly
occupied in smoking, three pounds of tobacco being his weekly allowance.
His pipe was two inches long. One of his stockings would contain six
gallons of wheat. He was much gratified when strangers came to visit
him, and to them his usual address was, "Come under my arm, little
fellow." He died in his sixtieth year, 5th April, 1815.


[12] The hole is still shown in the Tree Inn, Stratton.

                         NEVIL NORTHEY BURNARD

Was the son of George Burnard, a stonemason, who lived at Penpont,
Altarnon, in a house with mullioned windows and a newel staircase,
said to have been the old manor house of Penpont. He was born in 1818,
and was baptized on November 1st in that year.

The only education Nevil received was from his mother, who kept a
dame's school and made straw bonnets in her spare time.

He was mortar-boy to his father, and would often slip away and cut
figures of men and animals on an old oak door, getting many a "lacing"
for not minding his proper work. His earliest tools were nails, which
he sharpened on a grinding-stone, before he had any chisels.

There was at that time no machinery for facing slate slabs; so he used
an old French "burr"--i.e. part of a French millstone. Such millstones
were constructed in four parts, cemented together. This "burr" he put
into a rough frame of wood, and used it like a plane over the face of
the slate, which was laid on a bench, or "horse." The existing
examples of slabs worked in this way are most excellent, in flatness
and in smoothness.

The Delabole slate had been employed for many centuries for tombstones
and monuments, and lent itself surprisingly to being sculptured. In
the North Cornish churches are numerous examples of monuments
richly sculptured with heraldic figures of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, all on slate, and sharp to this day as when
they left the workshop.


_From a bas-relief by the sculptor himself, in the possession of S.
Pearn, Esq., Altarnon_]

At the age of fourteen Nevil cut a tombstone to his grandfather; that
is now in Altarnon churchyard, and affords evidence of skill, artistic
sense, and fineness of detail. There are other stones of his in the
same churchyard; also one or two by his brother George. An old man is
still alive in Altarnon who used to sharpen the nails on a grindstone
for Burnard, with which he did his carving on slate.

At fifteen he left Altarnon. Wesley's head, over the porch of the old
Meeting-house, Penpont, was cut by him when he was sixteen.

From Altarnon he went to Fowey, and the late Sir Charles Lemon, of
Carclew, took him by the hand. At the age of sixteen he carved in
slate the group of Laocoon, sent in 1834 to the Exhibition of the
Royal Cornwall Polytechnic Society at Falmouth. This carving in
bass-relief, executed by a boy from a wild moorland village, without
instruction, copied from a wood-cut in the _Penny Magazine_, and with
tools of his own making, was considered so very remarkable a
production that the Society awarded him a silver medal. Nevil was sent
to London, and through Sir Charles Lemon's influence was presented to
the Queen and Prince Consort, and he was allowed to cut a profile of
the Prince of Wales, then a boy, and this portrait was sent to
Osborne, and was approved by the Royal parents. Sir Charles Lemon
further introduced the lad to Chantrey, who secured for him employment
as a carver in one of the most celebrated ateliers in London.

Burnard reproduced his profile of the Prince of Wales in marble for
the Public Hall at Falmouth, and the general opinion expressed upon it
was that it amply sustained the early expectation which had been
formed of his talents.

Thus fairly launched in his profession as a carver in London, he found
employment in the studios of the best sculptors of the day, as Bailey,
Marshall, and Foley; and there was no lack of work, and no falling
short of pay.

Caroline Fox, in her _Memories of Old Friends_, says:--

"1847, October 4th.--Burnard, our Cornish sculptor, dined with us. He
is a great, powerful, pugilistic-looking fellow at twenty-nine; a
great deal of face, with all the features massed in the centre; mouth
open, and all sorts of simplicities flowing out of it. He liked
talking of himself and his early experiences. His father, a
stonemason, once allowed him to carve the letters on a little cousin's
tombstone which would be hidden in the grass; this was his first
attempt, and instead of digging in the letters he dug around them, and
made each stand out in relief. His stories of Chantrey very odd: on
his death Lady Chantrey came into the studio with a hammer and knocked
off the noses of many completed busts, so that they might not be too
common--a singular attention to her departed lord. Described his own
distress when waiting for Sir Charles Lemon to take him to Court: he
felt very warm, and went into a shop for some ginger-beer; the woman
pointed the bottle at him, and he was drenched. After wiping himself
as well as he could he went out to dry in the sun. He went first to
London without his parents knowing anything about it, because he
wished to spare them anxiety, and let them know nothing until he could
announce that he was regularly employed by Mr. Weekes. He showed us
his bust of the Prince of Wales--a beautiful thing, very intellectual,
with a strong likeness to the Queen--which he was exhibiting at the
Polytechnic, where it will remain."


_Cut by Burnard when_ 16 _years of age_]


_That on the right is upon the grave of his grandfather in Altarnon
Churchyard, and was cut when the sculptor was only_ 14 _years old; the
one on the left is in Bodmin Churchyard_]

"1849, March 1st.--Found a kindly note from Thomas Carlyle. He has
seen 'my gigantic countryman,' Burnard, and conceives that there is
real faculty in him; he gave him advice, and says he is the sort of
person whom he will gladly help if he can. Burnard forwarded to me, in
great triumph, the following note he had received from Carlyle with
reference to a projected bust of Charles Buller: '_February_ 25th,
1849.... Nay, if the conditions _never_ mend, and you cannot get that
Bust to do at all, you may find yet (as often turns out in life) that
it was _better_ for you you did not. Courage! Persist in your career
with wise strength, with silent resolution, with manful, patient,
unconquerable endeavour; and if there lie a talent in you (as I think
there does), the gods will permit you to develop it yet.--Believe me,
yours very sincerely, T. Carlyle.'"

On the return of Richard Lander from Africa, after having traced the
Niger through a great part of its course, Burnard was commissioned to
execute a statue of the explorer for the column erected in Lander's
honour at Truro. His only other public work of any consequence was the
statue of Ebenezer Elliott, the Corn-law Rhymer, for the market-place
of Sheffield; but he was employed in executing portrait busts of many
men of importance, as General Gough, Professor John Couch Adams, his
fellow-Cornishman, Professor Ed. Forbes, and one of Makepeace
Thackeray, which Burnard gave as a present to the Cottonian Library at
Plymouth, where it now stands above the door.

He exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1855, 1858, 1866, and 1867. He
married in London, but lost his wife, and then took to drink. The
boys, as he said, jeered at him, and called him "Old Burnard."

As a man, he was tall and big, with an enormous head which no
ordinary hat would fit; so that his hats had to be made for him.

Eventually he went "on tramp," paying periodical visits to old friends
at Altarnon. He would make sketches, draw portraits, at farms and in
public-houses; was ready to write an article for a newspaper, or to
make an election squib, for either side; and was, in fact, as clever
with his pen and pencil as he was with chisel.

He was a most entertaining companion, and able to converse on any

Thus he lived by his wits, mixing with the highest, but by preference
with the lowest. The last time he visited Altarnon was in 1877, three
years before his death; he remained there on that occasion for a week,
with hardly any clothes to his back, and was boarded by his old
playmate, Mr. S. Pearn, and slept in the common lodging-house,
Five-lanes. After having been fitted out with fresh clothes by some
friends he proceeded to the west of the county.

During this last visit at Altarnon he drew some large pencil heads,
which show a firm and delicate hand, but he delighted in minute
execution. There is also evidence that his mind at this time was as
steady as his hand, for he composed a poem on the death of Mr. F.
Herring, one or two verses of which may be given.

          I stood beside the spot where late you laid him,
          The spot to each of us most hallowed ground;
          After the angels had in white array'd him,
          And his smooth brows with flowers immortal crown'd.

                 *       *       *       *       *

          Who in the wilderness would wish to wander,
          Whose feet have trodden once the promised land?
          Believe that all is well, nor pause to ponder
          On things that mortals cannot understand.
          He is most bless'd that is the firmest trusting,
          Believing One that's wiser far than he,--
          Is, for his good, the balance still adjusting;
          So--tell my parents not to mourn for me.
          I now can see what might have been my story,
          Had I remained through man's allotted day:
          (Sorrow for joy, dark age for youth and glory:)
          And bless the love that hastened me away.
          And wafted me across the mystic river,
          Where all discords and elements agree,
          Calmed by His word, that can from death deliver,
          So tell my loved ones not to mourn for me.


He was equally ready to lampoon any one, whether friend or foe;
probably accommodating his muse to the humour of those with whom he
happened to be.

One day he had been making a sketch of a farmer called Nicoll, and
resorted to the public-house in Liskeard with his patron. Whilst there
he scribbled on a piece of paper and handed to his friend Nicoll:--

          Cash is scarce, and fortune's fickle;
          I should like to draw some silver now,
          As I've all day been drawing nickel.

There is at Penpont House, Altarnon, a small profile head of Burnard
executed by himself. It is a cameo in plaster of Paris. He is said to
have sketched his face by looking in a mirror, and then cut an
intaglio in slate from his drawing.

Nevil N. Burnard died in the Union, Redruth, of heart and kidney
complaint, 27th November, 1878.

                     SIR GOLDSWORTHY GURNEY, KNT.,

This man of remarkable versatility and genius was the fourth son of John
Gurney, of Trevargus; he was born at Treator, near Padstow, on February
14th, 1793, and was baptized at Padstow on the ensuing 26th June.

He was named after his godmother, a daughter of General Goldsworthy
and a maid of honour to Queen Charlotte. He was educated at the Truro
Grammar School, and during part of his holidays was wont to stay with
a relative, the rector of S. Erth, in which parish lived Mr. Davies
Giddy (who afterwards changed his name, and was better known as Mr.
Davies Gilbert, President of the Royal Society), in whose house he
very frequently met Richard Trevithick, a plain, unpretending man, of
great genius, connected with the neighbouring copper mines, who lived
near, and who often consulted Mr. Giddy on mathematical calculations
connected with the steam-engine and his mechanical inventions.
Although so young, Mr. Gurney, whose natural bent was for these
subjects, soon formed an acquaintance with this singularly original
and talented man, and he continued during the period of his medical
studies in correspondence with him.

Mr. Gurney saw Trevithick's first steam-carriage in 1804, and followed
closely his improvements and experiments on locomotion, and he
remembered, moreover, the contemptuous treatment this gifted man
received at the hands of the engineers of the day.

[Illustration: _S. C. Smith, del._ _W. Sharp, lithog._


His views were described as "wild theories," and his plans were
scoffed at. But Mr. Giddy or Gilbert encouraged Trevithick to go on
and not be discouraged, and Richard Trevithick became the inventor of
the locomotive as well as of the high-pressure engine. His first
locomotive was constructed to travel on common roads; he afterwards
modified it and set it to run on rails at Merthyr Tydvil. The trial
was made there on February 4th, 1804. In the year 1813 he exhibited
his locomotive on a temporary railway, laid for the purpose near
Euston Square, and showed the great speed it was capable of attaining.
This speed, however, was only maintained while the accumulated steam
in the boiler was worked off, but his experiment showed that, if a
sufficient quantity of steam could be "kept up," as he termed it, the
speed might be maintained for any distance and any length of time. But
how was this to be effected? That was the difficulty, and that
difficulty arose out of another--how was a sufficient draught to be
created to keep the fire in the furnace at full activity? As the
locomotive moved it created a draught the reverse of that required for
the fire, and unless a strong and steady draught into the furnace
could be created, sufficient heat could not be generated to produce a
sufficient and continuous amount of steam.

Trevithick in his first locomotive had discharged the steam up the
funnel to get rid of it, but without any idea of creating a vacuum by
means of which a draught could be caused. Stephenson did the same. Mr.
Smiles has claimed that the "steam-jet" was invented by Stephenson,
but this was not the case. The steam used in Trevithick's and
Stephenson's engines was waste or exhaust steam, discharging itself
through the funnel indeed, but not filling it, so that it created no
perceptible draught.

Mr. Smiles says: "The steam after performing its duty in the cylinders
was at first allowed to escape into the open atmosphere with a hissing
blast, to the terror of horses and cattle. It was complained of as a
nuisance, and a neighbouring squire threatened to commence an action
against the colliery lessees unless it was put a stop to."

Accordingly the steam was introduced into the funnel about half-way up
at the side so as to get rid of it and obviate the objection of the
noise. But the evidence that Stephenson had discovered that it could
be employed to create a draught is inconclusive.

Goldsworthy Gurney had been placed at Wadebridge with Dr. Avery as a
medical pupil, and there he married Elizabeth Symons in 1814. He
settled down at Wadebridge as a surgeon, but his active mind would not
let him rest as a small country practitioner; he felt that he had
powers and visions that would bring him before the public as an
inventor and a benefactor. Accordingly he moved to London in 1820,
where he made the acquaintance of several able physicians, and was
called to deliver a course of lectures on the elements of chemical
science at the Surrey Institute. It was in 1823 that he began his
experiments with steam and on locomotion, and he abandoned the medical
profession in order to devote himself to these researches. His desire
was to construct an engine that would travel on common roads, and
travel at a more rapid pace than horses.

Now Stephenson, in his evidence before a Parliamentary Committee,
stated that the rate at which his locomotive travelled was "from 3 to
5 or 6 miles an hour."

"_Q._ So that these hypothetical cases of 12 miles an hour do not fall
within your general experience?

"_A._ They do not.

"_Q._ Laying aside the 12 miles an hour, I think the rate at which
these experiments were made was about 6-3/4 miles to 7?

"_A._ I think the average was 6-1/2 miles."

In the first edition of Nicholas Wood's _Treatise on Railways_, 1829,
occurs this passage: "It is far from my wish to promulgate to the
world that the ridiculous expectations, or rather professions, of the
enthusiastic specialist, will be realized, and that we shall see them
travelling at the rate of 12, 16, 18, or 20 miles an hour. Nothing
could do more harm towards their adoption or general improvement than
the promulgation of such nonsense."

Before a second edition appeared, Mr. Gurney's steam-jet had
revolutionized the engine, and it blew this absurd passage out of the
book and the disbelief out of Wood's head.

Nicholas Wood was a viewer at Killingworth Colliery, and assisted
George Stephenson in his experiments, and he first saw the steam-blast
in Mr. Hackworth's _Sans Pareil_ in 1829, so that gentleman had
adopted it on Mr. Gurney's recommendation and according to his plan.

Wood thus describes what he then saw: "Mr. Hackworth had, it appears,
in his engine, resorted to the use of the waste steam in a more
forcible manner than before used, throwing it up in a jet, and which,
when the engine moved at a rapid rate, and the steam thereby almost
constantly issued from the pipe, had a most powerful effect. The
consequence was, that when the engine began to travel at the rate of
twelve or fifteen miles an hour, the draught was so great that it
actually threw the coke out of the chimney."

Here then is the first sight of the steam-blast to Nicholas Wood,
fellow-worker with George Stephenson. He knew nothing of it before.

But Goldsworthy Gurney's steam-blast had been adopted before this on
steamboats. It was first applied to the _Alligator_ in 1824; then to
the _Duchess of Clarence_, and other steamboats. It had made its way
into France.

In the Lords' Committee Report of 1849 on "Accidents in Mines," a Mr.
Keene, engineer of Bayonne, was examined.

"_Q._ Have you ever seen Mr. Gurney's plan used on the Continent?

"_A._ It has been used on the Continent for producing draughts in

"_Q._ Furnace-chimneys--for what purpose?

"_A._ Where the draught has been sluggish; I used it to get a stronger
draught on board a steamboat in 1830, to enable me to stem the strong
currents of the Garonne.

"_Q._ Have you any knowledge of some experiments made by Mr. Gurney in
the year 1826 with respect to the power of the steam-jet?

"_A._ I saw frequent experiments made by Mr. Gurney in 1826 to produce
draught by the action of high-pressure steam, exactly in the same way
as it is now employed for producing ventilation in the collieries;
that is, there were a number of jets of about a quarter to
three-eighths of an inch diameter, communicating directly with a
high-pressure boiler; the cock being open, the full steam from the
boiler was brought upon those jets, and a draught was produced by
their action in the chimney-shaft.

"_Q._ In the chimney-shaft of a locomotive engine?

"_A._ In the chimney-shaft of a locomotive and in the shaft of a
factory; the experiments were tried in various ways. I saw these
experiments frequently; many other persons saw them at the same time;
and I employed the same myself shortly afterwards for a like purpose

Mr. Keene in his evidence further stated, in answer to the question
whether Mr. Gurney's experiments were open to the public:--

"Many persons visited the place daily, and the carriage went out into
the road, and into the barracks, and was often surrounded by a group
of persons. It was understood and known how this draught was procured,
because the passage of the steam was heard up the chimney when the
carriage was still, and the great draught of the furnace was the
occasion of remark by everybody who was around it; they were quite
surprised how such a great current could be produced with so small a
height of chimney: it was a very remarkable thing, and drew attention
from everybody around at that time."

The principle of the action of the steam-blast was simple enough. It was
to fill the funnel with high-pressure steam, which would act much as the
sucker in a pump, exhaust the air and draw up air through the furnace,
as the cone of steam escaped out of the funnel. To act thus, the steam
must completely fill the chimney, allowing of no down draught.

This was what had entirely escaped Trevithick and Stephenson. Up to
the discovery of the steam-jet by Gurney, the waste steam, as has been
stated, was uselessly dispersed through the chimney.

In 1827, Gurney took a steam-carriage he had constructed to Cyfarthfa,
at the request of Mr. Crawshay, and while there applied his steam-jet
to the blast-furnaces. This gave a great impetus to the manufacture of

Stephenson now adopted it, and employed it for his locomotive the
_Rocket_, that ran on the Liverpool and Manchester Railway in October,
1829. Previously on one occasion Stephenson had run his engine
continuously for fifty-three minutes doing twelve miles. But now, with
the adoption of the steam-blast, it attained a velocity of twenty-nine
miles an hour.

"It is not too much to say that the success of the locomotive depended
upon the adoption of the steam-blast. Without that, by which the
intensity of combustion, and the consequent evolution of steam, were
maintained at the highest point, high rates of speed could not have
been kept up, the advantages of the multitubular boiler afterwards
invented could never have been fairly tested, and locomotives might
still have been dragging themselves unwieldily along at little more
than five or six miles an hour."[13]

It had been in July of the same year that Gurney had made a journey in
his steam-coach from London to Bath and back again, on the main road,
at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. This journey, undertaken at the
request of the quartermaster-general of the army, was the first long
journey at a maintained speed ever made by any locomotive on road or

Mr. Gurney's steam-coach was, of course, provided with the steam-jet.

The _Mirror_ of December 15th, 1827, says: "Mr. Goldsworthy Gurney,
whose name is familiar to most of our readers, after a variety of
experiments during the last two years, has completed a steam-carriage on
a new principle. We have accordingly introduced the annexed engraving,
which will enable our readers to enter into the details of the
machinery. First as to its safety, upon which point the public are most
sceptical. In the present invention it is stated that even from the
bursting of the boiler there is not the most distant chance of mischief
to the passengers. The boiler is tubular, and upon a plan totally
distinct from anything previously in use.... The weight of the carriage
and its apparatus is estimated at 1-1/2 tons, and its wear and tear of
the road, as compared with a carriage drawn by four horses, is as one to
six. When the carriage is in progress the machinery is not heard. The
engine has a 12-horse power, but may be increased to 16; while the
actual horse-power in use, except in ascending a hill, is but eight
horses.... Mr. Gurney has already secured a patent for his invention;
but he has our best wishes for permanent success."

Sir Charles Dance in 1831 ran a steam-coach of Gurney's make between
Gloucester and Cheltenham five times a day for four months, and during
this time carried three thousand passengers some four thousand miles,
without a single accident occurring.

There seemed to be every prospect of the steam-carriage superseding
the mail-coach, and indeed of private gentlemen setting up their
Gurney steam-carriages, as now they run their motors. But trustees of
roads, coach-proprietors, coachmen, and other interested persons
formed a strong body of opposition. How violent this was may be judged
from the fact that on one occasion a pile of stones eighteen inches
high was thrown across the road, and in struggling through it the axle
of the coach was broken.

But prejudice and dullness are mighty powers.

          How little, mark! that portion of the ball,
          Where, faint at best, the beams of Science fall;
          Soon as they dawn, from Hyperborean skies
          Embody'd dark, what clouds of Vandals rise!

Parliament interfered. Tolls on highways were raised to a prohibitive
rate, so that the running of steam-conveyances was brought to a
standstill. A committee of the House of Commons, appointed in 1831 to
inquire into the matter, reported "that the steam-carriage was one of
the most important improvements in the means of internal communication
ever introduced; that its practicability had been fully established;
and that the prohibitory clauses against its use ought to be
immediately repealed." The committee recommended that the Turnpike Act
should be repealed. It ascertained that upon the Liverpool and Prescot
road Mr. Gurney would be charged £2 8s., while a loaded stage-coach
would have to pay 4s. On the Bath road the same carriage would be
charged £1 7s. 1d., while a coach drawn by four horses would pay 5s.
On the Ashburton and Totnes road Mr. Gurney would have to pay £2,
while a coach drawn by four horses would be charged only 3s. On the
Teignmouth and Dawlish road the proportion was 12s. to 2s.

The Report of the Committee on Steam-Carriages, ordered to be printed
by the House of Commons, 12th October, 1831, was reasonable and just.
It reported:--

"Besides the carriages already mentioned, 'twenty or forty others are
being built by different persons, all of which have been occasioned by
his (Mr. Gurney's) decided journey in 1829.'

"The committee have great pleasure in drawing the attention of the House
to the evidence of Mr. Farey. He states that he has no doubt whatever
but that a steady perseverance in such trials will lead to the general
adoption of steam-carriages; and again, that what has been done proves
the practicability of impelling stage-coaches by steam on good common
roads, without horses, at a speed of eight or ten miles an hour.

"Much, of course, must remain to be done in improving their efficacy;
yet Mr. Gurney states that he has kept up steadily the rate of twelve
miles per hour; that the extreme rate at which he has run is between
twenty and thirty miles per hour.

"The several witnesses have estimated the probable saving of expense
to the public, from the substitution of steam power for that of
horses, at from one-half to two-thirds. Mr. Farey gives, as his
opinion, that steam-coaches will very soon after their establishment
be run for one-third of the cost of the present stage-coaches.

"Sufficient evidence has been adduced to convince your committee--

"That carriages can be propelled by steam on common roads at an
average rate of ten miles per hour.

"That they can ascend and descend hills of considerable inclination
with facility and safety.

"That they are perfectly safe for passengers.

"That they are not nuisances to the public.

"That they will become a speedier and cheaper mode of conveyance than
carriages drawn by horses.

"That such carriages will cause less wear of roads than coaches drawn
by horses.

"That rates of toll have been imposed on steam-carriages, which would
prohibit their being used on several lines of road, were such charges
permitted to remain unaltered."

But the House of Commons would not listen to the recommendations of
its committee, and the employment of motors as means of locomotion on
roads was postponed till the present age, when again dullness did its
best to impede the adoption and to drive the manufacture out of
England to France.

Mr. Goldsworthy Gurney was in advance of his time, and had to suffer
accordingly. The committee had suggested that as the prohibition of
steam-coaches on roads was a ruinous blow to Gurney, he should be
indemnified with a grant of £16,000. But the Chancellor of the
Exchequer refused the grant, and the Bill, after passing the Commons,
was thrown out by the Lords.

So the unfortunate Goldsworthy Gurney, after having abandoned his
profession, in which he was rapidly gaining a large practice, and
after spending £30,000 and five years of toil to perfect his
invention, was ruined.

Another of his inventions was the Bude light, at first intended for
lighthouses. For this he obtained a patent in 1838. In its first form it
consisted of a common Argand oil lamp of rather narrow circular bore and
the introduction into the centre of the flame of a jet of oxygen. This
was not, however, an original discovery, for it had been employed by Dr.
Ure in Glasgow in 1806 or 1807. But it was found to be too expensive for
use in lighthouses, nor was the brilliancy of the flame sufficiently
heightened to lead the Masters of Trinity House to adopt it.

Mr. Gurney was not discouraged. It had long been known that by
dissecting a flame of the compound jet of hydrogen and oxygen upon a
bit of clay a most vivid illumination was set forth. But Mr. Gurney
substituted lime for clay as less liable to disintegration by heat;
and he adopted the Argand lamp with an improvement such as had been
suggested and adopted from Fresnel. This consisted in a lamp composed
of a series of four, five, or six concentric wicks on the same plane,
supplied with oil from a fountain below by means of a pump; and he
obtained a second patent in 1839. He next applied his principle to
gas, purified in a peculiar manner, and burned in compound Argand
lamps, consisting of two or more concentric rings perforated with rows
of holes in their upper surfaces, having intervals between the rings
for the admission of an upward rush of air to maintain a high
incandescence. The intensity and whiteness of the light thus produced
by the combustion of coal-gas surpassed anything hitherto discovered
till the production of the mantle-burner.

It was he, moreover, who proposed the flash-light for lighthouses, as
a means by which seamen might identify lighthouses. He proposed that a
powerful light should be made by periodic flashes to correspond with
the number of the lighthouse, and that every lighthouse along the
coast should have a registered number, so that the number of flashes
per minute should represent the lighthouse.

Gurney was present at Sir W. Snow Harris's experiment on Somerset
House terrace with wire for ships' lightning-conductors. Turning to
Sir Anthony Carlisle, in reference to the magnetic needle which, as he
observed, made starts on meeting the poles of a galvanic battery, he
said with the inspiration of genius, "Here is an element which may,
and I foresee will, be made the means of intelligible communication."

Whilst engaged at the Surrey Institution he invented the oxyhydrogen
blow-pipe. Before this was introduced the risk of accident was so
great that recourse was seldom had to oxyhydrogen.

Gurney applied his steam-jet to other purposes than propelling
locomotives and exciting the ardour of furnaces in ironworks. By its
means he extinguished the fire of a burning coal-mine at Astley, in
Lancashire, and in 1849 another at Clackmannan, where the bed of coal
had been burning for over thirty years. He also employed it for
expelling noxious gases from sewers, and planned and superintended in
1849 the ventilation by this means of the pestilential sewer in Friar
Street, London, which resisted all other efforts to cleanse it; and he
suggested to the metropolitan commissioner of sewers that a steam-jet
apparatus should be placed at the mouth of every sewer emptying into
the great main sewer by the Thames river-side.

He was employed on the lighting, heating, and ventilation of the old
House of Commons, and he held the appointment of superintendent of
these functions from 1854 to 1863.

He had remarked that the flame of hydrogen gas caused vibrations that
produced musical tones, and in 1823 wrote on "the analogy between
chemical and musical combinations." He suggested "an improved
finger-keyed musical instrument, in the use of which a performer is
enabled to hold or prolong the notes, and to increase or modify the tone
at pleasure." In 1825 and 1833 he proposed "certain improvements in
musical instruments." He invented a stove, and saw and advocated the
advantage of the employment of circulation of hot water for the heating
of a building. He advocated the employment of concrete for foundations
where there was no rock, and to show that it was possible to build a
house upon the sand, he reared the castle at Bude upon concrete floated
into the shifting sand above high-water mark. He again was the first to
point out and insist on the necessity for there being two shafts to
every colliery, so as to maintain a circulation of air.

For several years Mr. Gurney resided at Hanacott Manor, near Launceston,
but he had also a house at Reeds, in Poughill by Bude, and the castle
at the latter place, which is usually let. He was knighted in 1863--a
tardy acknowledgment of his great services and extraordinary ability.
The honour came too late to really advantage him. That same year he was
stricken with paralysis, and therefore could do nothing in the way of
scientific research and invention. He was attended till his death by his
only child, a daughter, Miss Anna D. Gurney. He expired at Reeds on the
28th February, 1875, and was buried at Launcells in the graveyard just
under the south wall of the nave.

Like Henry Trengrouse, so with Sir Goldsworthy Gurney--a man of genius
and perseverance, and one who benefited mankind, received no adequate
recognition in his lifetime. May posterity do for him, as for
Trengrouse, what his contemporaries denied him. Mr. Smiles vainly
endeavoured to refuse to credit him with the invention of the
steam-blast; but the writer of his life in the _Dictionary of National
Biography_ afforded him tardy justice. "One soweth and another reapeth"
is true of all inventors with few exceptions. How much do we owe to Sir
Goldsworthy! He was the pioneer of locomotion by motors on our roads,
the salvation of many lives by the ventilation of coal-mines; he
invented the system of heating mansions by hot water, the flash-light
for lighthouses, the steam-blast revolutionizing locomotion by steam; he
showed that houses could be built on concrete foundations; he discovered
the limelight, the oxyhydrogen blow-pipe: and he was repaid with a
barren knighthood when about to be struck down by paralysis.

                                  For his bounty,
          There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas,
          That grew the more by reaping.
                                _Antony and Cleopatra_, v. 2.


[13] Smiles (S.), _Lives of the Engineers_, Vol. III, p. 100. London,

                               THE JANES

The family of Jane, descended from the ancient family of Janes of
Worcestershire, was settled in Cornwall at an early date. It bore as its
arms, arg. a lion rampant az. between 3 escallops gules. It was settled
in S. Winnow early in the sixteenth century, and at the beginning of the
following century was at Lanhydrock and at Liskeard, at which latter
place Thomas Jane was mayor in 1621. His son Joseph Jane was M.P. for
Liskeard in 1625 and 1640, and was mayor in 1631, 1635, and 1636. He
married Loveday, daughter of William Kekewich, in 1633. He was a
whole-hearted Royalist, and when the King was at Oxford, in 1643, he
attended him there. In the following year he was one of the Royal
Commissioners in Cornwall, and when Charles I came to Cornwall, in 1644,
he entertained him in August in his house at Liskeard.

During 1645 and 1646 he carried on a correspondence with Edward Hyde,
afterwards Earl of Clarendon, on the condition of the Royalist cause in
Cornwall. Liskeard had fallen into the hands of the Parliamentarians,
but Sir Ralph Hopton defeated Ruthven on Braddock Down on January 19th,
1643, and recovered Liskeard for the King. Ruthven fled to Saltash,
which he fortified with much expedition.

When the Royal cause was lost the vengeance of the Parliament fell on
Joseph Jane, and he was nearly ruined by the heavy composition he was
forced to pay. In 1650, and again in 1654, he was named Clerk of the
Royal Council, but it was an empty honour; Charles II could pay
nothing, and the Council could only grumble and plot.

Jane attempted to answer Milton's Εικονοκλαστης in a work, Εικων
ακλαστος the Unbroken Image, but it was a poor performance. It was
published in 1651; Hyde says, however, in a letter to Secretary
Nicholas, "the King hath a singular good esteem both of Joseph Jane
and of his book."

He had a son, William Jane, baptized at Liskeard, 22nd October, 1645,
who was educated at Westminster School, elected student of Christ
Church, Oxford, 1660, and graduated B.A. in 1664, and M.A. in 1667,
and D.D. in 1674. After his ordination he was appointed lecturer at
Carfax. He attracted the attention of Henry Compton, who became Canon
of Christ Church in 1669, by his sturdy loyalty and orthodoxy; and
when Compton became Bishop of Oxford, he chose Jane to preach the
sermon at his consecration, and he appointed him one of his chaplains.

In 1670 he became Canon of Christ Church, and was given the living of
Winnington in Essex. In 1679 he received a prebendal stall in S. Paul's
Cathedral and the archdeaconry of Middlesex. In May, 1680, he was
appointed Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford. This rapid promotion
was due in part to the staunch loyalty of his father and the losses of
his family on that account, but also to his cool, businesslike
abilities, and to his learning, which though not profound was good.

In July, 1683, he framed the Oxford declaration in favour of Passive
Obedience, and committed the University to an opinion which subsequent
events were calculated to stultify.

As Green says: "The Cavaliers who had shouted for the King's return,
had shouted also for the return of a free Parliament. The very Chief
Justice who asserted at the trial of the Regicides, the general
freedom of the King from any responsibility to the Nation, asserted
just as strongly that doctrine of ministerial responsibility, against
which Charles the First had struggled. It was the desire of every
royalist to blot out the very memory of the troubles in which monarchy
and freedom had alike disappeared, to take up again, as if it had
never been broken, the thread of our political history. But the point
at which even royalists took it up was not at the moment of the
Tyranny, but at the moment of the Long Parliament's first triumph,
when that Tyranny had been utterly undone. In his wish to revive this
older claim of the Crown, which the Long Parliament had for ever set
aside, the young King found himself alone. His closest adherents, his
warmest friends, were constitutional royalists of the temper of
Falkland and Culpepper. Partisans of an absolute monarchy, of such a
monarchy as his grandfather had dreamed of and his father had for a
few years carried into practice, there now were none."

The clergy in advocating passive obedience were actuated by the sense
of the miseries through which England had passed during the Great
Rebellion--better to submit under protest than to fly to arms again,
better certainly to submit even to what was deemed an injustice or
inexpedient, when the Crown was hedged about with restrictions, and
when the ministers of the Crown were responsible to the nation. There
was, however, a noisy and vehement party that went much beyond this,
and one Filmer had worked the theory of Divine Right of the Sovereign
into a system, that was accepted by the more crazy and immoderate of
the old Tory party, mainly among the clergy; and the Oxford
declaration went a long way in this direction. Men were beating about
for a theory on which to base Government by a King, they had not
grasped the truth that the King represents the people, just as does a
President in a Republic, but with the superaddition of Divine
ratification and imparted grace for the task of ruling, by unction and
coronation. That the Kings of England had ever been elected, and that
coronation was the confirmation by God, through the Church, of the
choice of the people, had been forgotten through the prevalence of
feudal ideas in the Middle Ages. Filmer propounded his doctrine that
the Divine Right rested in primogeniture, and the rabid Tories,
looking out for a theory, snatched at this for want of a better.

On the very day on which Russell was put to death, the University of
Oxford adopted by a solemn public act, drawn up by Jane, this strange
doctrine, and ordered the political works of Buchanan, Milton, and
Baxter to be publicly burned in the court of the schools.

James II, in hopes of winning the Earl of Rochester to join the Papal
Church, desired a disputation between some Roman divines and some of
the Church of England, making no doubt that the former would be able
to confound the latter. The King bade Rochester to choose English
divines, excluding two only, Tillotson and Stillingfleet, dreading the
latter as a consummate master of all controversial weapons. Rochester
selected Simon Patrick and Jane. The conference took place at
Whitehall on November 13th, 1686, but no auditor was suffered to be
present save the King.

"The subject discussed," says Macaulay, "was the Real Presence. The
Roman Catholic divines took on themselves the burden of the proof.
Patrick and Jane said little, nor was it necessary that they should
say much; for the Earl himself undertook to defend the doctrine of his
Church, and, as was his habit, soon warmed with the conflict, lost his
temper, and asked with great vehemence whether it was expected that he
should change his religion on such frivolous grounds."

In 1685 Jane had been appointed to the deanery of Gloucester. He
resigned the archdeaconry of Middlesex in 1686, but retained the
canonries of Christ Church and S. Paul's till his death.

In 1688 James II had fled the kingdom, and the English nation and
Parliament had accepted William and Mary as King and Queen of England.

The whole fabric of Divine Right had crumbled to the ground. James had
reduced the theory to a _reductio ad impossibile_. This even the lay
cavaliers had recognized. "A man convinced against his will is of the
same opinion still," and it was so with the more fanatical Tories
among the clergy. They refused to take the oath of allegiance to
William and Mary, and were thrust out of their cathedral thrones and
stalls and livings, and joined the sect of the Nonjurors.

But Jane was not one of them. He had the good sense to acknowledge
that the theory he had taken up with some ardour was as impracticable
as it was absurd. It was cast in his teeth that he changed his opinion
because he desired to retain his benefices. One need not take this
view of his conduct. He sought William of Orange at Hungerford, and
assured him of the adhesion of the University of Oxford. His enemies
said that he hinted at the same time his readiness to accept the
vacant bishopric in return for his services in securing this sign of
devotion. But nothing is more easy than to make such an accusation,
and there is no proof that he did this. However, the fact that the
framer of the Oxford declaration should have thrown over the
principles advocated therein, laid him open to attack, and a shower of
epigrams fell on him. His name Jane gave good opportunity to the wits
to liken him to Janus, who looked two ways at once. But he showed no
further desire to court the favour of William, and he opposed the
projects for Comprehension favoured by the latitudinarians, Tillotson
and Burnet. In 1689 two Bills had been introduced into Parliament, a
Toleration and a Comprehension Bill. The former was to grant
facilities of worship to the Puritans and other Dissenters; the other
was a Bill for altering the creed and the formulas and ceremonies of
the Church, removing from them whatever might be distasteful to the
Dissenters, so that all excuse might be taken from them for separating
themselves from the Church. Both the King and Tillotson, who all knew
was destined by the King to be Archbishop of Canterbury, and Burnet,
Bishop of Salisbury, were eager to get both passed. Tillotson was so
latitudinarian that his churchmanship was nebulous. Burnet was the son
of a Covenanter who had been hanged, had been brought up in
Presbyterianism, had found satisfaction in the ministry of Calvanist
pastors in Holland, and had not the faintest conception of the
principles of the Church or of its true organization.

The Earl of Nottingham advocated the Comprehension Bill and drafted
both. The Toleration Bill passed both Houses with little debate. But it
was otherwise with the Comprehension Bill. The first clause in this
dispensed all the ministers in the Church from the necessity of
subscribing the Thirty-nine Articles. Then it was provided that any
minister who had been ordained after the Presbyterian fashion might be
eligible to any benefice in the Church without ordination by the bishop.

Then followed clauses providing that a clergyman might wear the
surplice or not as he thought fit; it left the sign of the cross
optional in baptism; and provided that the Eucharist need not be
received kneeling. The concluding clause was drawn in the form of a
petition; it was proposed that the two Houses should request the King
and the Queen to issue a commission empowering thirty divines of the
Church of England to revise the liturgy, the canons, and the
constitution of the ecclesiastical courts, and to recommend such
alterations as might seem to them desirable.

But this Bill roused serious opposition. It was felt by all who had any
respect and feeling for the Church, as one in all times from the
Apostolic period, who regarded her claim to maintain the same faith, the
same Apostolic constitution and the same sacraments, as from the
earliest age of the Church, that this Comprehension Bill if it became
law must of necessity alienate them from such a body--drenched with
Protestantism, till scarcely a tinge of the old wine of Catholicism
remained in her; and would leave them no other course open than to shake
off the dust of their feet against her and join the Church of Rome, or
the Church of the Nonjurors. Most of the bishops who had taken the oaths
to William and Mary were placed on the Commission; and with them were
joined twenty priests of note. Of these twenty, Tillotson was the most
important as expressing the mind and wishes of the King. He was a
latitudinarian, without a spark of feeling for historic Christianity.
With him went Stillingfleet, Dean of S. Paul's, Sharp, Dean of Norwich,
Patrick, Dean of Peterborough, Tenison, Rector of S. Martin's, and
Fowler. But conspicuous on the other side were Aldrich, Dean of Christ
Church, and Jane, Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford.

Early in October, 1689, the commissioners assembled in the Jerusalem
Chamber. But hardly had they met before Sprat, Bishop of Rochester,
started up and denied that the Commission was legal. There was a sharp
altercation, violent words were flung about, and Sprat, Jane, and
Aldrich withdrew. The strength of the Catholic party was broken, and
the rest agreed to sanction nearly all the changes advocated by those
who desired to entirely alter the character of the Church.

"They had before them," Burnet tells us, "all the exceptions that
either the Puritans before the war, or the Nonconformists since the
Restoration, had made to any part of the Church service; they had also
many propositions and advices that had been offered, at several times,
by many of our bishops and divines upon those heads; matters were well
considered and freely and calmly debated; and all digested into an
entire correction of everything that seemed liable to any just
objection." To guide them, as Burnet admits in his Triennial
Visitation Charge of 1704, they were furnished with a great collection
of the books and papers in which the Dissenters had at different times
set forth their demands. The Commission was prepared to surrender
everything. The chanting of psalms, even in cathedrals, was to be done
away with. The lessons from the Apocrypha were to be abolished. The
Saints' days omitted from the Calendar, the form of absolution
altered, remission of sins to be removed from it "as not very
intelligible." The cross in baptism, the use of god-parents, the
wearing of the surplice were to be optional. Episcopal ordination was
not to be required of the Ministry. Kneeling to receive the Holy
Communion was left to the choice of the Communicant; the collects, as
too concise, were to be blown out with pious bombast.

It is possible that, as Calamy asserts, such alterations as these
would have brought over two-thirds of the English Dissenters to the
Established Church; but it is certain that it would have driven
two-thirds of the members of the Church, lay and clerical, out of her,
as having forfeited her claim to be a branch of the Catholic Church,
and they would probably have swelled the ranks of the Nonjurors, and
made of that communion a body that would have really represented the
Church in England.

Owing to the secession of the Nonjurors, sees and benefices had been
filled with men who were in sympathy with the views of Tillotson and
Burnet, or who were only solicitous to live in the smiles of William.
Little resistance, if any, was to be expected from the episcopal bench.

When the Commission had concluded its labours, writs were issued
summoning the Convocation of the Province of Canterbury. The clergy
were in a ferment throughout England. They thought that the heritage
of faith was going to be taken from them. The Toleration Act had
removed the disabilities of the Dissenters; they might build their
conventicles and preach what and when they liked; why, then, open the
doors of the Church to admit them as a flood to swamp the faithful?

When the Declaration of Toleration had been issued by James II, in
1687, removing all disabilities from the Dissenters, on the sole
understanding that they should abstain from attacking the Churches of
Rome and England, their preachers found that they had nothing to say.
They preferred to be under disabilities rather than give up assaults
on the Scarlet Woman, Babylon, the Beast, and Prelacy, its shadow.

When Convocation was elected, it became evident to all that the bulk of
the priests were against all watering down of the formulas of the
Church, her faith, her ritual. The most important office in Convocation
was that of Prolocutor of the Lower House. The Prolocutor was to be
chosen by the members; Tillotson was proposed by the Protestant party as
one whom the King delighted to honour, and who it was well known would
be appointed to the Archbishopric of Canterbury when vacant.

On November 20th, Convocation met in Henry VII's Chapel at
Westminster. "Compton was in the chair. On the right and left those
suffragans of Canterbury who had taken the oath were ranged in
gorgeous vestments of scarlet and miniver. Below the table was
assembled the crowd of presbyters. Beveridge preached a Latin sermon,
in which he warmly eulogized the existing system, and yet declared
himself favourable to a moderate reform." In a word, he blew hot and
cold with the same breath.

The Lower House listened, unstirred, cold and resolute. Dean Shays,
put forward by the members favourable to Comprehension, proposed
Tillotson; Jane was proposed on the other side. After an animated
discussion, Jane was elected by fifty-five votes to twenty-eight.

The Prolocutor was then formally presented to the Bishop of London,
and made, according to ancient usage, a Latin oration, in which he
eulogized the Church in England as maintaining the faith as delivered
to the saints, and as preserving all the marks of the Catholic Church
throughout all ages and all the world; and he very plainly declared
that no alteration in a downward direction would be tolerated; and he
concluded with the significant and well-known words, "Nolumus leges
Angliæ mutari."

It soon became evident that the Lower House was absolutely determined
not to have the proposed alterations made; but the plan they adopted
was to shun the discussion of the recommendations made by the
Commissioners, so as not directly to reject what they knew lay very
near to the King's heart. With this object they adopted a system of
tactics that in the end answered their purpose.

"The law," says Macaulay, "as it had been interpreted during a long
course of years, prohibited Convocation from even deliberating on any
ecclesiastical ordinance without a previous warrant from the Crown.
Such a warrant, sealed with the Great Seal, was brought in form to
Henry the Seventh's Chapel by Nottingham. He at the same time
delivered a message from the King. His Majesty exhorted the assembly
to consider calmly and without prejudice the recommendations of the
Commission, and declared that he had nothing in view but the honour
and advantage of the Protestant religion in general and of the Church
of England in particular.

"The bishops speedily agreed on an address of thanks for the royal
message, and requested the concurrence of the Lower House. Jane and
his adherents raised objection after objection. First they claimed the
privilege of presenting a separate address. When they were forced to
waive this claim, they refused to agree to any expressions which
implied that the Church of England had any fellowship with any other
Protestant community. Amendments and reasons were sent backward and
forward. Conferences were held at which Burnet on one side and Jane
on the other were the chief speakers. At last, with great difficulty,
a compromise was made; and an address, cold and ungracious compared
with that which the bishops had framed, was presented to the King in
the Banqueting House. He dissembled his vexation, returned a kind
answer, and intimated a hope that the assembly would now at length
proceed to consider the great question of Comprehension." But this was
precisely what they were resolute not to consider. They had made up
their minds on the subject already, but they were unwilling to fly too
openly in the face of the King. As for trusting the bishops to stand
firm on any principle, the Lower House knew that this was not to be
expected. When had the bishops of the Established Church, since the
Reformation, ever shown firmness and united action on any principle,
except once, and that was to oppose general Toleration?

So soon as the clergy were again assembled, a fresh difficulty was
started. It was mooted that the Nonjuring bishops had not been
summoned, and they were to be regarded as bishops of the Catholic
Church quite as certainly as were those nominees of the King who had
been intruded into their vacated thrones.

Then it was complained that scurrilous pamphlets were hawked about the
streets, and the people were being worked into a temper of opposition
to Convocation. It was asked why Convocation should be called together
to emasculate the Church, if it was to be suffered to be jeered at by

Thus passed week after week. Christmas drew nigh. The bishops
proposed, during the recess, to have a committee to sit and prepare
business. The Lower House rejected the proposal; and it became plain
to every one that it was determined not to consider one of the
suggested concessions to Protestant prejudice.

Moreover, it soon became evident that the Dissenters themselves did
not desire Comprehension. Their ministers were petted and made much of
by the well-to-do yeomen and the rich merchants in country and town.
They lived on the fat of the land, snapped up wealthy widows and
bought broad acres. Whereas the needy country parson was hard pressed
to wring the tithes from his parishioners. While the walls of
exclusion of Jericho stood, the rams' horns brayed against them daily,
and seven times on the Sabbath; but so soon as the walls were
prostrate, and every man could go up into the city and take up his
quarters there where he liked, the rams' horns would have to be laid
aside as superfluous lumber.

The King was disappointed and offended. What he did was to prorogue
Convocation for six weeks, and when those six weeks had expired, to
prorogue it again, and many years elapsed before it was again suffered
to assemble.

That Convocation of 1689 saved the Church of England from dissolution
into a formless, gelatinous, and invertebrate mass.

Burnet himself, though disappointed at the time, felt afterwards that
the determination of the Lower House had saved the Church at a time of
crisis. "There was," he says, "a very happy direction of the
providence of God observed in this matter. The Jacobite clergy who
were then under suspension were designing to make a schism in the
Church, whensoever they should be turned out and their places should
be filled up by others. They saw it would not be easy to make a
separation upon a private and personal account; they therefore wished
to be furnished with more specious pretences, and if we had made
alterations in the Rubrics and other parts of the Common Prayer, they
would have pretended that they still stuck to the ancient Church of
England, in opposition to those who were altering it and setting up
new models. And, as I do firmly believe that there is a wise
providence that watches upon human affairs, and directs them--so I
have observed this in many instances relating to the Revolution ... by
all the judgments we could afterwards make, if we had carried a
majority in the Convocation for alterations, they would have done us
more hurt than good."

Burnet was morally and intellectually incapable of seeing that it was
a case of conscience, of _stantis vel cadentis ecclesiæ_, and he
attributed the motives of the recalcitrant clergy to political

On Jane's return to Oxford, he found another opportunity of defending
the Church, by framing the decree of 1690, which condemned the "Naked
Gospel" of Arthur Burge.

Jane had no hopes whatever of preferment from William, if he cared for
it. In 1696 it was even rumoured that the King meditated turning him
out of his professorship, because he had not signed the "Association
for King William." But on Anne's accession, all his fears were at an
end. It would appear from a letter of Atterbury that at Oxford the
University desired to get rid of him, because he neglected giving
lectures on Divinity, and left the work to be discharged by a
subordinate named Smallridge.

In 1703 Bishop Trelawny appointed him to the Chancellorship of Exeter
Cathedral, which he exchanged for the precentorship in 1704, but he
retained his Regius professorship to the end. Undoubtedly it was a
great pleasure to him in the decline of his life to be back in the
West Country.

He resigned the precentorship of Exeter in 1706, and died on the 23rd
February, 1707, at Oxford, and was buried in Christ Church.

The writer of his life in the _Dictionary of National Biography_ sums
up his career with these words: "Jane was a clerical politician of a
low type; Calamy says of him, 'Though fond of the rites and ceremonies
of the Church, he was a Calvinist in the respect of doctrine,' and the
pleasantest thing recorded of him is his kindness shown at Oxford to
the ejected Presbyterian, Thomas Gilbert."

Calamy, as a Dissenter, was prejudiced against Jane; and I do not see
that he was of a low type of polemical cleric--because when he saw
that the theory of government he had embraced would not bear the test
of experience, he had the courage to reject it. Every man is liable to
make mistakes; it is only the brave man who can acknowledge that he
has been mistaken.

Nor was Jane alone. Compton, Bishop of London, and several other
bishops, had appealed to William of Orange to come over and help the
people and the Church of England to be free from a tyrannous and
subversive despotism. The Earl of Danby, under whose administration, and
with his sanction, a law had been proposed, which, if it had passed,
would have excluded from Parliament and office all who refused to
declare on oath that they thought resistance to the King in every case
unlawful--he had seen the mistake as well, and had invited William over.

As Macaulay says: "This theory (of passive obedience) at first
presented itself to the Cavalier as the very opposite of slavish. Its
tendency was to make him not a slave, but a free man and a master. It
exalted him by exalting one whom he regarded as his protector, as his
friend, as the head of his beloved party, and of his more beloved
Church. When Republicans were dominant the Royalist had endured wrongs
and insults which the restoration of the legitimate government had
enabled him to retaliate. Rebellion was therefore associated in his
imagination with subjection and degradation, and monarchical authority
with liberty and ascendancy. It had never crossed his imagination that
a time might come when a King, a Stuart, could prosecute the most
loyal of the clergy and gentry with more than the animosity of the
Rump or the Protector. That time had however arrived. Oppression
speedily did what philosophy and eloquence would have failed to do.
The system of Filmer might have survived the attacks of Locke; but it
never recovered from the death-blow given by James."

Jane changed his opinion indeed, but so did nearly the whole of the
Tory party and of the clergy of the Church.

                            THE PENNINGTONS

About seven years ago I attended the baptism of some bells for a new
church at Châteaulin, in Brittany. The ceremony was quaint, archaic,
and grotesque. The bells were suspended in the chancel "all of a row,"
dressed in white frocks with pink sashes round their waists. To each
was given god-parents who had to answer for them, and each was
actually baptized, after which each was made to speak for itself. The
ceremony evidently dates from a period when the bell was regarded as
anything but an inanimate object--it had its responsibilities, it did
its duties, it spoke in sonorous tones. The very inscriptions on them
to the present day prescribe something of this character--invest each
bell with a personality, as these:--

          I sweetly tolling men do call
          To taste of meats to feed the soul.


          I sound to bid the sick repent,
          In hope of life when breath is spent.

As late as last century we find these:--

          Both day and night I measure time for all,
          To mirth and grief, to church I call.

And this in 1864:--

          I toll the funeral knell,
            I ring the festal day,
          I mark the fleeting hours,
            And chime the church to pray.

In the Western Counties bell-ringing was a favourite and delightful
pastime. Parties of ringers went about from parish to parish and rang
on the church bells, very generally for a prize--"a hat laced with
gold." At Launcells, where the bells are of superior sweetness, the
ringers who rang for the accession of George III rang for that of
George IV, there not having been a gap caused by death among them in
sixty years. No songs are so popular and well remembered at
bell-ringers' feasts as those that record the achievements of some who
went before them in the same office. I give one that has never before
been printed, that can be traced back to 1810, but is certainly older.
It relates to the ringers of Egloshayle.

          1. Come all you ringers good and grave,
               Come listen to my peal,
             I'll tell you of five ringers brave
               That lived in Egloshayle.
             They bear the sway in ring array,
               Where'er they chance to go;
             Good music of melodious bells,
               'Tis their delight to show.

          2. The foreman gives the sigan-al,
               He steps long with the toe,
             He casts his eyes about them all,
               And gives the sign to go.
             Away they pull, with courage full,
               The heart it do revive,
             To hear them swing, and music ring,
               One, two, three, four, and five.

          3. There's Craddock the cordwainer first,
               That rings the treble bell;
             The second is John Ellery,
               And none may him excel;
             The third is Pollard, carpenter;
               The fourth is Thomas Cleave;
             Goodfellow is the tenor man,
               That rings them round so brave.

          4. They went up to Lanlivery,
               They brought away the prize;
             And then they went to San-Tudy,
               And there they did likewise.
             There's Stratton men, S. Mabyn men,
               S. Issey and S. Kew,
             But we five lads of Egloshayle
               Can all the rest outdo.

          5. Now, to conclude my merry task,
               I' th' Sovereign's health we join;
             Stand every man and pass the flask,
               And drink his health in wine.
             And here's to Craddock, Ellery,
               And here's to Thomas Cleave,
             To Pollard and the tenor man
               That rings them round so brave.

Humphry Craddock died in 1839; John Ellery in 1845, aged 85 years;
John Pollard in 1825, aged 71; Thomas Cleave in 1821, aged 78; John
Goodfellow in 1846, aged 80.

But for bell-ringers there must be bells; and who cast those that have
been in past years and are still pealed so merrily? A great many were
cast by the Penningtons of Lezant, and latterly at Stoke Climsland.
The Penningtons were an ancient family in Bodmin, resident there in
the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Perhaps because not being landed gentry,
perhaps because they could not establish the right, they did not
record their arms or give their pedigree in the Heralds' Visitations.
But the coat they bore or assumed was a goodly one and simple, and
therefore ancient--_or_, in fesse five lozenges _azure_. Robert
Pennington, of Bodmin, had two sons--John, baptized in 1595, and
Bernard two years later. John married at Bodmin, and had seven sons
baptized there, one of whom was probably the progenitor of the
Penningtons of Lezant and Stoke Climsland. The pedigree of the Exeter
bell-founders of the family has not been made out; but that they
belonged to the stock that sprang up at Bodmin cannot be doubted.

Bernard Pennington, baptized in 1605, was Mayor of Bodmin in 1666, and
was a bell-founder. He died in 1674. His son Christopher Pennington,
baptized 1631, was also a bell-founder. He died in 1696. Christopher's
son of the same name was Mayor of Bodmin in 1726, 1727, and 1733. He
died in 1749. The Penningtons seem to have abandoned the bell-casting
business at the beginning of the nineteenth century; but, as Sir
William Maclean says, "between 1702 and 1818 these popular founders
cast nearly five hundred bells in the county of Devon, and, it is
believed, as many in Cornwall."[14]

There are sixty-six in Devon cast by John Pennington, of Exeter. The
earliest that is dated is at Payhembury, 1635, and the latest 1690 at
Kentisbeare. In 1669 T. P. and I. P. appear together on a bell at
Merton, as if they were partners; and ninety-five bear the trade-mark of
Thomas and John Pennington--large Roman initials with a bell in outline
between. The earliest is found at Eggesford, 1618. Sometimes they
impressed the coin then current. At Ottery S. Mary, 1671, and at S.
Martin's, Exeter, 1675, they used a satirical medal representing a pope
and a king under one face, another representing a cardinal and a bishop.

Besides two generations of Penningtons in Exeter, there was, as
already stated, Christopher Pennington, who cast a bell at Stowford
dated 1710, and one at Philleigh, in Roseland, with C. P. and the
skeleton of a bell between, as did the other Pennington. But his
earliest known is at Fremington, 1702. He was succeeded by FitzAnthony
Pennington, of Lezant, who in 1768, whilst crossing the Tamar in the
Antony ferry with a bell he had cast to be set up at Landulph, was
drowned. He is buried in the tower of Landulph, and on a mural tablet,
beside his age, which was thirty-eight, and the date of his death,
April 30th, 1768, are these lines:--

          Tho' boisterous winds and billows sore
            Hath toss'd me to and fro,
          By God's decree, in spite of both,
            I rest now here below.

After his death we have the initials of the three brothers, John,
Christopher, and William. From their head-quarters, first at Lezant
and then at Stoke Climsland, they itinerated through Cornwall and
Devon, casting bells wherever they could find deep clay, and
sufficient bell-metal was provided by the parish that desired to have
a bell in its tower, and generally the bell was cast near the church
for which it was intended.[15]

There are as many as 480 bells by this Cornish family from 1710-1818;
their latest are at Bridgerule and Bovey Tracey, at this last date.

William Pennington, son of the second Christopher, entered Holy Orders
and became vicar of Davidstowe. His progenitors had furnished the
voices calling to church from the village towers, and now this member
sounded within the church also calling to prayer and praise. His son,
William Pennington, purchased the site of the Priory, Bodmin, in 1788,
having rebuilt the house some twenty years previously under a lease.
He was mayor of Bodmin 1764, 1774, 1787, and died without issue in
1789, bequeathing his possessions to his niece Nancy Hosken, daughter
of his sister Susanna, who had married Anthony Hosken, vicar of
Bodmin and rector of Lesneuth. Nancy married Walter Raleigh Gilbert,
one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber, and descended from the ancient
Devonshire family of Compton Castle. As Mr. Gilbert died without
issue, the Priory passed to his brother, and, consequently, wholly
away from the Penningtons.


[14] _Deanery of Trigg Minor_, I, p. 301.

[15] At S. Breward the bells were cast in a small garden outside the
churchyard fence, since called "Bell garden."

                          DOCTOR GLYNN-CLOBERY

This amiable and good man was born at Helland, 5th August, 1719, and was
the son of Robert Glynn, by Lucy, fourth daughter of John Clobery, of
Bradstone, in Devon. A singular fatality attended this ancient family,
that possessed a very interesting Elizabethan mansion. John Clobery had
eight daughters and only one son and heir, and that son died without
issue, and only three of the daughters married. Lucy had but the one
son, Robert Glynn, and the fifth daughter, Mary, also only a son; and as
these sons died unmarried, the estate passed to remote connections.

Robert Glynn assumed his mother's name and succeeded to the estates on
the death of his uncle, William Clobery. Robert Glynn was an M.D. and
a Fellow of King's College, Cambridge, where he resided. He was a
simple-minded man, and was completely taken in by the Chatterton
forgeries, and for some time strenuously defended them. On which
account Horace Walpole speaks of him with great contempt as "an old
doting physician and Chattertonian at Cambridge." "I neither answer
Dr. Glynn, nor a _poissarde_. Twenty years ago I might have laughed at
both, but they are too small fry, and I am too old to take notice of
them. Besides, when leviathans and crocodiles and alligators tempest
and infest the ocean, I shall not go a-privateering in a cockboat
against a smuggling pinnace." That was in August, 1792.

Dr. Glynn was very fond of seeing young gownsmen at his rooms, and had
tea for them and conversed with them; but he never drank tea himself.
C. Carlyon says: "His custom was to walk about the room and talk most
agreeably upon such topics as he thought likely to interest his
company, which did not often consist of more than two or three
persons. As soon as the tea-table was set in order, and the boiling
water ready for making the infusion, the fragrant herb was taken, not
from an ordinary tea-caddy, but from a packet, consisting of several
envelopes curiously put together, in the centre of which was the tea.
Of this he used, at first, as much as would make a good cup for each
of the party; and, to meet fresh demands, I observed that he
invariably put an additional teaspoonful in the teapot; the excellence
of the beverage, thus prepared, ensuring him custom. He had likewise a
superior knack of supplying each cup with sugar from a considerable
distance, by a jerk of the hand which discharged it from the
sugar-tongs into the cup with unerring certainty, as he continued his
walk around the table, scarcely seeming to stop whilst he performed
these and other requisite evolutions of the entertainment."

Dr. Glynn or Clobery would only eat when his appetite summoned him
imperiously for a meal. A faithful old servant was in constant
attendance upon him, and, whenever his master called out for food, he
was prepared to set before him some plain dish and a pewter of porter.

Nothing would induce the doctor to believe that gout was hereditary.
He once took occasion to mark this with peculiar emphasis, when a
writer signing himself W. A. A. consulted him in his first attack,
then in his nineteenth year. He observed, "My young friend, you call
this gout! Pooh, pooh! You have not yet earned the costly privilege;
you must drink your double hogshead first."

"But my father, sir; it is in my blood by right of inheritance."

His reply was, "You talk nonsense. You may as well tell me you have a
broken leg in your veins by inheritance."

One Sunday morning he met an undergraduate of his acquaintance on his
way to S. Mary's Church, and said to him--

"Well, my master, and whither are you going?"

"I am going to S. Mary's," replied the young gownsman.

"And who is the preacher to-day?"

"I don't know."

"Not know who is the preacher? Then, upon my word, you have no small
merit in taking pot-luck at S. Mary's."

During a long illness the good old doctor attended a poor man, of
whose family party a pert, talkative magpie made one; and as the
patient observed that Dr. Glynn always, when paying a visit, had some
joke with the bird, he thought that perhaps the doctor might like to
possess it. Accordingly, when the poor man was well again, with
overflowing gratitude, but with no money to pay a bill, he thought he
could do no better than make his kind friend a present of the magpie;
and sure enough the prisoner in its cage was conveyed to his rooms in
King's College. There the bearer met with a very kind reception, but
was desired to carry back the bird with him. "I cannot," said the
doctor, "take so good care of it as can you; but I shall consider it
mine, and I entrust it to you to keep for me; and, as long as it
lives, I will pay you half-a-crown weekly for its maintenance."

The anecdote was turned into verse by Mr. Plumtre, and is given in
Gunning's _Reminiscences of Cambridge_. When Dr. Glynn assumed the
name of Clobery he assumed also the Clobery arms--three bats; and no
animal could better symbolize the man, with his curious blindness to
what was obvious to most--that the Chatterton papers were forgeries.
He went down to Bristol on purpose to examine the chest with its MS.
contents. The fact that in one of them the invention of heraldry was
ascribed to Hengest, and that of painted glass to an unknown monk in
the reign of King Edmund, did not disturb his faith. He entered into
vehement controversy with George Steevens, in his endeavour to
establish their genuineness. He waxed hot over it, and it took a good
deal to put Glynn-Clobery out of his usual placidity and coolness.

He set up to be a poet. His Seatonian prize poem on the "Day of
Judgment" was thought much of at the time. Previously Christopher
Smart had won the prize over and over again. Glynn wrested the laurels
from him. This is not saying much; his poem was not much better, and
not at all worse, than the general run of these prize poems. But it
had the advantage of pleasing, and has been repeatedly republished,
and has even obtained for the old doctor a niche in the temple of
Poesy--a notice in a _Biographical Dictionary of Poets_.

He died at Cambridge on February 8th, 1800, and at his own desire was
buried at midnight in King's College Chapel.

                         THREE MEN OF MOUSEHOLE

In the year 1849, Captain Allen Gardiner, an intrepid sailor and a
religious enthusiast, formed the plan of converting the natives of
Terra del Fuego and of Patagonia. He knew nothing of their language or
habits, nothing indeed of their land. He was, however, possessed with
the idea that he was called to be an apostle of those bleak and
fog-wrapped regions. Of all inhabited spots on the earth, the Terra
del Fuego is the most miserable. Cold, whirlwinds and tempests of snow
and hail, frozen fogs with but rare glimpses of sunshine, form its
climate; and the natives are utterly barbarous, apparently the
refugees from the Continent, driven out of the somewhat less desolate
peninsula of Patagonia by the giants that now possess it, and in their
misery sinking to the lowest depths to which man can descend.

During a year or more Captain Gardiner's efforts to rouse interest in
his scheme, sufficient interest to make the money flow, had met with no
success. He applied to the Moravian Brethren to take up the mission;
they declined. Then he placed the matter before the Scottish
Establishment, but the canny Scotchmen would nae think ov it. At last a
lady at Cheltenham furnished him with £700, and this, with £300 from his
own private purse, formed all the resources on which he acted. As he
could not afford to charter a schooner, he had four open boats built for
him at Liverpool. Two of these were launches of considerable size, to
which he gave the names of the _Speedwell_ and the _Pioneer_; the other
two were small dinghies, to be used as tenders or luggage boats.


_the last Person who could converse in the Cornish language?_]

Captain Gardiner now looked about him for enthusiasts like himself to
share the perils and the possible glories of spreading the gospel over
Terra del Fuego, in which not a cross had been planted nor the Word of
God proclaimed.

He secured the services of a surgeon, a missionary, and from
Mousehole, near Penzance, drew three sturdy Cornish sailors, or
fishermen--John Pearce, John Badcock, and John Davy Bryant--who little
knew what risks they ran.

The party left England on September 27th, 1850, in the ship _Ocean
Queen_, bound from Liverpool to California, taking with them their
boats and six months' provisions. They were landed on the inhospitable
foreign shore on the 5th December.

Pinkerton, in his _Modern Geography_, thus graphically describes the
scene of their projected labours:--

"A broken series of wintry islands, called Terra del Fuego, from two
or more volcanoes which vomit flames amidst the dreary wastes of ice.
Terra del Fuego is divided by narrow straits into eleven islands of
considerable size. In their zeal for Natural History, Sir Joseph Banks
and Doctor Solander had nearly perished amid the snows of this
horrible land; but they found a considerable variety of plants. The
natives are of a middle stature, with broad flat faces, high cheeks,
and flat noses, and they are clothed in the skins of seals. The
villages consist of miserable huts in the form of a sugar loaf, and
the only food seems to be shell-fish."

The lack of common prudence, of common sense, exhibited by Captain
Gardiner is astounding. Here was he, with a party whom he had
beguiled to attend him, dropped in this barren country wrapped in snow
and fog, without an interpreter, and consequently without the means of
communication with the inhabitants should they come across them. From
the moment that the sails of the _Ocean Queen_ disappeared behind the
rocks on her way to double Cape Horn, the eye of no civilized man ever
saw these brave sailors and missionaries alive. All that is known of
them has been gathered from the papers subsequently found.

Seven men in all, with four open boats, were left on the most
inhospitable coast that could be found, where there is little food to
be got, where vegetation is scarce. Their resolution was heroic, but
the whole enterprise was madness.

They soon found that the _Pioneer_ leaked. In several short voyages from
island to island and from shore to shore they encountered numberless
mishaps. The natives were by no means friendly, and as they approached
their villages, brandished their weapons and drove them away. At other
times the Fuegians simulated friendship, so as to get at the stores and
plunder them. During a storm both of the dinghies were lost with all
their contents, on which they relied for support for six months. Next
they found that they had no gunpowder; it had been left inadvertently in
the _Ocean Queen_, so that they had no means of shooting birds or other
animals. Then their anchors and spare timber were carried away. As far
as we can judge, they seem to have been curiously helpless persons. With
clubs they might have killed the sea-elephants, whose flesh would have
sustained them and their skins clothed them.

Thus wore away the month of January, 1851, and not the first step had
been taken towards acquiring the confidence of the natives. All the
time had been spent in a struggle for the maintenance of their own
lives. On February 1st the _Pioneer_ was shattered in a storm, and now
they had only the _Speedwell_ to voyage in, a vessel whose name mocked
their misery.

They all saw now, even the enthusiast Gardiner, that they had embarked
on an impossible task, and without further thought of spreading a
knowledge of Christianity among the dirty, treacherous, flat-nosed and
stupid natives, their only consideration was how they might get away.

Arrangements had been made before starting for sending out to them
fresh supplies, but by various unfortunate mischances this had not
been done. They turned their eyes vainly eastward; not a sail was seen
to raise their hopes.

Some of the men became ill with scurvy, and the boats were used as
hospitals, the men that were sound retiring to caverns. A few fish and
fowl were caught, and eggs were procured. So March and April dragged
along; and then the Antarctic winter began, adding snow and ice to their
other troubles. What herbs to gather, how the natives protected
themselves against scurvy, does not seem to have occurred to these
unfortunates. They sat and shivered and lamented their fate and lost all
hope. From the middle of May they were all put on short allowance, owing
to the rapid disappearance of the supply of food they had brought
ashore. At the end of June, Badcock, one of the Mousehole men, died,
worn out with scurvy. There is an entry in Gardiner's diary, about the
end of June, enumerating the provisions still left, and among them were
"six mice," concerning which he wrote: "The mention of this last item in
our list of provisions may startle some of our friends should it ever
reach their ears; but circumstanced as we are, we partake of them with
a relish; they are very tender, and taste like rabbit." A solitary
penguin, a dead fox, a half-devoured fish thrown up on the shore--all
were welcomed by the half-starved men. When August came, the strength of
the entire party was well-nigh at an end. A few garden-seeds were made
into a soup, and mussel-broth was served out to the invalids. Captain
Gardiner himself lived on mussels for a fortnight, and then, as this
disagreed with him, was compelled to give up the diet. He would have
lain down and died of starvation had he not found a vegetable that he
could eat, and on this he rallied for a while.

On the 23rd, Erwin, a boatman, died, exhausted by hunger and disease.
On the 26th, Bryant, the second Mousehole man, expired. Pearce, the
remaining boatman, went nearly mad at the loss of his companions and
the hopelessness of the outlook. Mr. Maidment, the missionary, had
just strength sufficient to dig a grave in which to bury the two poor
fellows. He then made a pair of crutches with two sticks, on which
Captain Gardiner might lean when walking. He lived in the cavern, and
tried to hobble down to those who were in the _Speedwell_, but his
strength was not equal to the task, and he had to retire to his cave.

Maidment was the next to succumb, on September 2nd. Pearce, and
Williams the surgeon, were in the _Speedwell_, and it was as much as
they could do to obtain a few shell-fish for themselves; but they soon
lay down and died. When Gardiner also yielded up the ghost is not
known, but he had strength to make an entry in his diary on the 6th;
there is none on the 7th.

On the 21st January, 1852, H.M.S. _Dido_ arrived at Terra del Fuego
and found the remains of this unhappy party of religious enthusiasts.
The first thing seen was a direction scrawled on a rock; then a boat
lying on the beach of a small river; then the unburied bodies of
Captain Gardiner and the missionary Maidment; then a packet of papers
and books; then the scattered remains of another boat, with part of
her gear and various articles of clothing; then two more corpses; and
lastly the graves of the rest of the party.

"Their remains," wrote Captain Morshead, of the _Dido_, "were collected
together and buried close to the spot, and the funeral service read by
Lieutenant Underwood. A short inscription was placed on the rock near
his own text; the colours of the boats and ships were struck half-mast,
and three volleys of musketry were the only tribute of respect I could
pay to the lofty-minded man and his devoted companions."

                            DOLLY PENTREATH

Much has been written about Dolly Pentreath, but little is known of
her uneventful life. That little may be summed up in few words.

Her maiden name was Jeffery, and when she was a child her parents and
all about her spoke the Cornish language. Drew, in his _History of
Cornwall_, quoting Daines Barrington, says: "She does indeed talk
Cornish as readily as others do English, being bred up from a child to
know no other language; nor could she (if we may believe her) talk a
word of English before she was past twenty years of age."

In the year 1768 the Hon. Daines Barrington, brother of Captain,
afterwards Admiral, Barrington, went into Cornwall to ascertain whether
the Cornish language had entirely ceased to be spoken, or not, and in a
letter written to John Lloyd, F.S.A., a few years after, viz. on March
31, 1773, he gives the following as the result of his journey:--

"I set out from Penzance, with the landlord of the principal inn for
my guide, towards Sennen, or the most western point; and when I
approached the village I said that there must probably be some remains
of the language in those parts if anywhere, as the village was in the
road to no place whatever, and the only ale-house announced itself to
be the last in England.

"My guide, however, told me that I should be disappointed, but that if I
would ride about ten miles about on my return to Penzance he would
conduct me to a village called Mousehole, on the western side of Mount's
Bay, where there was an old woman, called Dolly Pentreath, who could
speak Cornish fluently. While we were travelling together towards
Mousehole I inquired how he knew that this woman spoke Cornish; when he
informed me that he frequently went from Penzance to Mousehole to buy
fish, which were sold by her; and that when he did not offer her a price
that was satisfactory, she grumbled to some other old women in an
unknown tongue, which he concluded, therefore, to be Cornish.


_From a drawing by Captain Tremenhere_]

"When we reached Mousehole I desired to be introduced as a person who
had laid a wager that there was not one who could converse in Cornish;
upon which Dolly Pentreath spoke in an angry tone for two or three
minutes, and in a language which sounded very like Welsh. The hut in
which she lived was in a very narrow lane, opposite to two rather better
houses, at the doors of which two other women stood, who were advanced
in years, and who I observed were laughing at what Dolly said to me.

"Upon this I asked them whether she had not been abusing me; to which
they answered, 'Very heartily,' and because I had supposed she could
not speak Cornish.

"I then said that they must be able to talk the language; to which they
answered that they could not speak it readily, but that they understood
it, being only ten or twelve years younger than Dolly Pentreath.

"I continued nine or ten days in Cornwall after this, but found that
my friends whom I had left to the eastward continued as incredulous
almost as they were before about these last remains of the Cornish
language, because, among other reasons, Dr. Borlase had supposed, in
his _Natural History of the County_, that it had entirely ceased to be
spoken. It was also urged that, as he lived within four or five miles
of the old woman at Mousehole, he consequently must have heard of so
singular a thing as her continuing to use the vernacular tongue.

"I had scarcely said or thought anything more about this matter till
last summer (1772), having mentioned it to some Cornish people, I
found that they could not credit that any person had existed within
these few years who could speak their native language; and therefore,
though I imagined there was but a small chance of Dolly Pentreath
continuing to live, yet I wrote to the President, then in Devonshire,
to desire that he would make some inquiry with regard to her; and he
was so obliging as to procure me information from a gentleman whose
house was within three miles of Mousehole, a considerable part of
whose letter I subjoin.

"'Dolly Pentreath is short of stature, and bends very much with old
age, being in her eighty-seventh year, so lusty, however, as to walk
hither to Castle Horneck, about three miles, in bad weather, in the
morning and back again. She is somewhat deaf, but her intellect
seemingly not impaired; has a memory so good, that she remembers
perfectly well, that about four or five years ago at Mousehole, where
she lives, she was sent for by a gentleman, who, being a stranger, had
a curiosity to hear the Cornish language, which she was famed for
retaining and speaking fluently, and that the innkeeper where the
gentleman came from attended him.

("This gentleman," says Daines Barrington, "was myself; however, I did
not presume to send for her, but waited upon her.")

"'She does, indeed, talk Cornish as readily as others do English,
being bred up from a child to know no other language; nor could she
(if we may believe her) talk a word of English before she was past
twenty years of age, as, her father being a fisherman, she was sent
with fish to Penzance at twelve years old, and sold them in the
Cornish language, which the inhabitants in general, even the gentry,
did then well understand. She is positive, however, that there is
neither in Mousehole, nor in any other part of the county, any other
person who knows anything of it, or, at least, can converse in it. She
is poor, and maintained partly by the parish, and partly by
fortune-telling and gabbling Cornish.'

"I have thus," continued Mr. Barrington, "thought it right to lay before
the Society (the Society of Antiquaries) this account of the last sparks
of the Cornish tongue, and cannot but think that a linguist who
understands Welsh might still pick up a more complete vocabulary of the
Cornish than we are yet possessed of, especially as the two neighbours
of this old woman (Dolly Pentreath), whom I had occasion to mention, are
not now above seventy-seven or seventy-eight years of age, and were
healthy when I saw them; so that the whole does not depend on the life
of this Cornish sybil, as she is willing to insinuate."

It is matter of profound regret that no Welshman did visit Dolly, who
lived for four years after Mr. Barrington's letter, which was written
in 1773, for she died December 26th, 1777.

Drew says: "She was buried in the churchyard of the parish of Paul, in
which parish, Mousehole, the place of her residence, is situated. Her
epitaph is both in Cornish and English."

          Coth Doll Pentreath cans ha Deau;
          Marow ha kledyz ed Paul plêa:--
          Na ed an Egloz, gan pobel brâs,
          Bes ed Egloz-hay coth Dolly es.

          Old Doll Pentreath, one hundred aged and two,
          Deceased, and buried in Paul parish too:--
          Not in the Church, with people great and high,
          But in the Churchyard doth old Dolly lie!

This epitaph, written by Mr. Tomson, of Truro, was never inscribed on
her tombstone, for no tombstone was set up to her memory at the time
of her death. The stone now erected, and standing in the churchyard
wall and not near her grave, was set up by Prince Louis Lucien
Bonaparte in 1860, and contains two errors. It runs: "Here lieth
interred Dorothy Pentreath, who died in 1778." In the first place she
does not lie where is the stone, and in the second place she died
1777, on December 26th, and was buried on the following day.

In 1776 Mr. Barrington presented a letter to the Royal Society of
Antiquaries written in Cornish and in English, by William Bodener, a
fisherman of Mousehole. This man asserted that at that date there were
still four or five persons in Mousehole who could talk Cornish.

In 1777, the year of Dolly's death, Mr. Barrington found another
Cornishman named John Nancarrow, of Marazion, aged forty-five years,
able to speak Cornish. John Nancarrow said that "in his youth he had
learned the language from the country people, and could thus hold a
conversation in it; and that another, a native of Truro, was at that
time also acquainted with the Cornish language, and like himself was
able to converse in it."

This last is supposed to be the Mr. Tomson who wrote the epitaph for
Dolly Pentreath which was never set up.

In Hitchens' and Drew's _History of Cornwall_, it is said: "The
Cornish language was current in a part of the South Hams in the time
of Edward I (1272-1307). Long after this it was common on the banks of
the Tamar, and in Cornwall it was universally spoken.

"But it was not till towards the conclusion of the reign of Henry VIII
(1509-47) that the English language had found its way into any of the
Cornish churches. Before this time the Cornish language was the
established vehicle of communication.

"Dr. Moreman, a native of Southill, but vicar of Menheniot, was the
first who taught the inhabitants of this parish the Lord's Prayer, the
Creed, and the Ten Commandments in the English tongue; and this was
not done till just about the time that Henry VIII closed his reign.
From this fact one inference is obvious, which is, that if the
inhabitants of Menheniot knew nothing more of the English than what
was thus learnt from the vicar of the parish, the Cornish must have
prevailed among them at that time ... and as the English language in
its progress travelled from east to west, we may reasonably conclude
that about this time it had not penetrated far into the county, as
Menheniot lies towards its eastern quarter.

"From the time the liturgy was established in the Cornish churches in
the English language, the Cornish tongue rapidly declined.

"Hence Mr. Carew, who published his _Survey of Cornwall_ in 1602,
notices the almost total extirpation of the language in his days. He
says, 'The principal love and knowledge of this language liveth in Dr.
Kennall the civilian, and with him lyeth buried; for the English speech
doth still encroach upon it and hath driven the same into the uttermost
skirts of the shire. Most of the inhabitants can speak no word of
Cornish; but few are ignorant of the English; and yet some so affect
their airs, as to a stranger they will not speak it; for if meeting them
by chance you inquire the way, or any such matter, your answer shall be,
"_Meea naurdua cowzasourzneck?_" (I can speak no Saxonage).'

"Carew's _Survey_ was soon followed by that of Norden, by whom we are
informed that the Cornish language was chiefly confined to the western
hundreds of the county, particularly to Penwith and Kirrier, and yet
(which is to be marveyled) though the husband and wife, parents and
children, masters and servants, etc., naturally communicate in their
native language, yet there is none of them in a manner but is able to
converse with a stranger in the English tongue, unless it be some
obscure people who seldom confer with the better sort. But it seemeth,
however, that in a few years the Cornish will be by little and little

The Cornish was, however, so well spoken in the parish of Feock by the
old inhabitants till about the year 1640, "that Mr. William Jackman,
the then vicar, and chaplain also of Pendennis Castle, at the siege
thereof by the Parliament army, was forced for divers years to
administer the sacrament to the communicants in the Cornish tongue,
because the aged people did not well understand the English, as he
himself often told me," says Hals.

So late as 1650 the Cornish language was currently spoken in the
parishes of Paul and S. Just; the fisherwomen and market-women in the
former, and the tinner in the latter, for the most part conversing in
their old vernacular tongue; and Mr. Scawen says that in 1678 the Rev.
F. Robinson, rector of Landewednack, "preached a sermon to his
parishioners in the Cornish language only."

Had the Bible been translated, had even the English Prayer-book been
rendered into Cornish, the language would have lived on. It is due to
a large extent to this--the translation into Welsh--that in Wales
their ancient language has maintained itself.

The editors of the _Bibliotheca Cornubiensis_ state that Dorothy
Jeffery, daughter of Nicolas Pentreath, was baptized at Paul 17th May,
1714; and they conclude that she was the Dolly Pentreath who died in
1777, and that her age accordingly was sixty-three and not one hundred
and two.

But this is a mistake. Dolly was a Jeffery by birth and married a

A story is told of Dolly in Mr. J. Henry Harris's _Cornish Saints and
Sinners_, "as current in Mousehole, but whether true or well conceived
it is not possible for me to say."

It is to this effect: that on one occasion a deserter from a man-of-war
fled to her house for refuge, and as there was a cavity in her chimney
large enough to contain a man, she thrust him into it, and threw a
bundle of dry furze on the fire, and filled the crock with water. Into
the middle of the kitchen she drew a "keeve," which she used for
washing, and when the naval officer and his men in pursuit burst into
her house, Dolly was sitting on a stool, her legs bare and her feet
ready to be immersed in the keeve. She screamed out on their entry that
she was about to wash her feet, and only waiting for the water to get
hot enough. The officer persisted in searching, and she gave tongue in
strong and forcible Cornish. She rushed to the door and screamed to the
good people of Mousehole, that the lieutenant and his men had invaded
her house without leave, and were impudent and audacious enough to
ransack every other cottage in the place. The officer and his men
withdrew without having seen and secured their man; and that night a
fishing lugger stole out of Mousehole with the deserter on board and
made for Guernsey, which in those days was a sort of dumping-ground for
all kinds of rascals who were "wanted" at home.

                       ROBERT JEFFERY OF POLPERRO

Mrs. Bray, in her novel _Trelawny of Trelawne_, written in 1834, thus
describes Polperro as it was at that time. It has lost much but not
all of its picturesqueness. Many of the old fishermen's cottages have
been pulled down, and their places taken by ugly modern houses.

"Looe," says she, "beautiful as it is, is not to be compared to
Polperro, two miles distant from Trelawne. The descent to it is so
steep, that I, who was not accustomed to the path, could only get down
by clinging to Mr. Bray's arm for support; it was slippery, and so
rocky that in some places there were steps cut in the road for the
convenience of the passenger. The view of the little port, the old
town in the bottom (if town it can be called), the cliffs, and the
spiked rocks that start up in the wildest and most abrupt manner,
breaking the direct sweep of the waves towards the harbour, altogether
produced such a combination of magnificent coast scenery as may truly
be called sublime."

Long before this, in the reign of Henry VIII, Leland, who visited it,
wrote: "By est, the haven of Fowey upon a iiii miles of--ys a smawle
creke cawled Paul _Pier_, and a symple and poore village upon the est
side of the same, of fisharmen, and the boetes ther fishing by [be]
saved by a _Peere_ or key."

Robert Jeffery was the son of John Jeffery, bargeman at Fowey,
afterwards a publican at Polperro. John Jeffery died in 1802, and his
widow remarried Benjamin Coad, blacksmith.

Robert was baptized at Fowey, 22nd January, 1790. He was impressed for
the Royal Navy, and was placed on board H.M. brig _Recruit_, under
Captain the Hon. Warwick Lake, in 1807.

Warwick Lake was the third son of Gerard, first Viscount Lake, so
created in 1807, and he eventually succeeded as third Viscount in
1836. His career in the Navy had not been particularly creditable. In
November, 1803, he had been lieutenant on board the frigate _Blanche_,
Captain Zachariah Mudge, lying at anchor off the entrance of
Mancenille Bay, Isle of S. Domingo. In the harbour lay the French
cutter _Albion_, armed with two 4-pounders, six swivels, and twenty
muskets, and manned by forty-three officers and men, lying under the
guns of the fort of Monte Christo. A night attack was determined upon,
and Lieutenant Edward Nicolls, of the Marines, volunteered, with one
boat, to attempt cutting out the vessel. His offer was accepted; and
on the evening of the 4th November, the red cutter, with thirteen men,
including himself, pushed off from the frigate. Shortly after Captain
Mudge despatched the barge, with twenty-two men, under the Hon.
Warwick Lake, to follow the red cutter and supersede Nicolls in the
command. As the barge approached the cutter, Nicolls hailed her and
demanded a united attack. But Lake feared that the hazards were too
great, and instead of following he moved away to the north-west side
of the bay, leaving Lieutenant Nicolls to attack unassisted. The red
cutter, thus deserted, proceeded dauntlessly on her way, and as soon
as she arrived within pistol-shot was hailed. Replying with three
hearty cheers the boat proceeded, and received in quick succession two
volleys of musketry. The first passed over the heads of the British;
but the second severely wounded the coxswain, the man at the bow-oar,
and a marine. Before the French cutter could fire a third time,
Nicolls, at the head of his little party, sprang on board of her. The
French captain fired at the lieutenant, and the ball passed round his
body in the flesh, and lodged in his right arm. At the same moment the
French captain was shot. After this, little resistance was offered.
The French officers and crew were driven below, with the loss, beside
the captain, of five men wounded.

So far the battery had not fired, and Nicolls ordered that the
_Albion_ should be got under sail, and the cable was cut.

At this moment up came the barge, commanded by Lieutenant the Hon.
Warwick Lake. He took command of the prize captured by Nicolls, and with
two boats towing her soon ran her out of gunshot of the battery, which
had now at last opened fire, and joined the frigate in the offing.

Captain Mudge, in his report to the Admiralty, wrote: "Having gained
intelligence that there was a large coppered cutter full of bullocks
for the Cape laying close under the guns of Monte Christi (four
24-pounders and three field-pieces), notwithstanding her situation, I
was convinced we could bring her off; and at two this morning _she was
masterly and gallantly attacked by Lieutenant Lake in the cutter_, and
Lieutenant Nicolls, of the Marines, in the barge, who cut her out. She
is ninety-two tons burden, etc. This affair lost me two men killed,
and two wounded."

As will be seen, this was a gross misstatement of facts. The Hon.
Warwick Lake was in the barge, and did nothing till the _Albion_ had
been captured by Lieutenant Nicolls in the cutter. Nor was this all.
Among the two wounded, Lieutenant Nicolls, the hero of the action, was
not named. His wound was not a scratch, but a hole on each side of his
body and a ball in his arm, that sent him bleeding to the cock-pit of
the _Blanche_.

The Patriotic Fund presented to Lieutenant Lake "for his gallantry" a
sword valued at £50, and he did not blush to receive it, whereas
Lieutenant Nicolls received one valued at £30. Not till much later was
it discovered who had been the hero of the action, and who the sneak
who flourished the plumes due to another.

In 1807 Lake was captain of the _Recruit_, an 18-gun brig-sloop.

Jeffery, at the age of eighteen, had entered in 1807 on board the _Lord
Nelson_ privateer of Plymouth; but eight days after, when the privateer
had put into Falmouth, was pressed by an officer of the _Recruit_, which
soon after sailed for the West Indies. Jeffery was a skulking,
ill-conditioned fellow, who was caught stealing a bottle of rum and was
punished for it, and by his own acknowledgment, on December 10th, went
to the spruce-beer cask and drew off about two quarts. A shipmate saw
and informed against Jeffery, and Captain Lake ordered the sergeant of
marines to "put him in the black list," and he had the word _Thief_
painted on a bit of canvas and affixed to his back.

Edward Spencer, master, told his captain that the fellow was no good
on board, and that the best thing that could be done with him was to
put him on shore.

On the 13th December the _Recruit_ was passing the island of Sombrero,
that lies between the islet of Anyada in the Puerta Virgin Islands and
that of Anguella in the Lesser Antilles group. It was towards evening
between five and six of the afternoon. Captain Lake then ordered Jeffery
to be brought on deck, and saying that he would not keep such a
worthless scoundrel on the ship, gave orders to Lieutenant Mould to have
out the boat and convey Jeffery on shore. Neither the captain nor any of
the crew knew that the island was desert and waterless. They believed
that it was inhabited by a few fishermen, and in the evening light
mistook some rocks on shore for houses. Accordingly, a little before 6
p.m., Jeffery was placed in a boat along with the second lieutenant of
the brig, Richard Cotten Mould, a midshipman, and four sailors, and
landed on Sombrero, without shoes to his feet, or any other clothes than
those on his back, and without even a biscuit for food.

Lieutenant Mould, seeing that the lad's feet were cut and bleeding by
stepping on the sharp-pointed rocks, begged a pair of shoes for him from
one of the seamen, and gave him his knife and a couple of handkerchiefs,
to be made use of as signals, and advised him to keep a sharp look-out
for passing vessels. Then he pulled back to the _Recruit_.

Captain Lake was possibly suffering from what would now be termed a
"swollen head." His father, a gallant officer, but of no great
descent, for his services in the Maharatta war had been created Baron
Lake of Delhi and of Aston Clinton, Bucks, in 1804, and had received
thanks for his services by both Houses of Parliament. His elder
brother had married the sister of Charles, Earl of Whitworth, and his
father had been granted an augmentation of arms, a fish naiant in
fesse, to represent the fish of the Great Mogul, pierced with shafts.

Lake was a hot-headed man, and he had just dined. That he intended to
commit an act of barbarity is far from the truth. Jeffery was a
nuisance of which he desired to free the ship, and the opportunity
offered, and he took advantage of it without stopping to inquire what
was the nature of the island on which he left the young man.

On reaching the Leeward Islands, where Sir Alexander Cochrane was in
command of the squadron, that officer heard of what Lake had done,
promptly reprimanded him, and ordered him to return to Sombrero and
fetch off Jeffery.

On February 11th, 1809, the _Recruit_ anchored off the island, and her
officers landed and searched it over, but neither Jeffery nor his body
could be found. A pair of trousers and a tomahawk handle were the only
vestiges of humanity discoverable. The island, however, abounded in
turtle and wild birds and their eggs, but the water was brackish.

For eight days, in fact, Jeffery had wandered over the hump of rock
and sand that constituted the islet of Sombrero, and lived on limpets
and eggs, and drunk the water collected in fissures of the rock. He
does not seem to have been given flint and steel, and the means of
making a fire, so that he could not feast on turtle and puffins; but,
indeed, there were no trees, consequently hardly any fuel available
for cooking a dinner.

He saw several vessels pass, and indeed Sombrero was in the track of
merchant vessels, but he failed to make them observe his signals. At
length, on the morning of the ninth day, the schooner _Adams_, of
Marblehead, Massachusetts, John Dennis master, came to the island and
took the fellow off, and landed him at Marblehead, where he worked at
a forge. Little conscious that he was like to be made political
capital of and to become of consequence, he did not even trouble to
write home to Polperro to announce his safety and his whereabouts.

Sir A. Cochrane was satisfied that the man could not have died on
Sombrero, as his body was not discovered, nor was he likely to die on
an island abounding in turtles and eggs; he concluded that he had been
carried away by one of the many ships that passed. He convinced
himself that Captain Lake had been guilty of an illegal act, but had
not desired to do one that was cruel, and he hoped that the matter
would be forgotten after he had administered a reprimand.

But the story got about. It reached England. A busybody, Charles M.
Thomas, who had been purser on board H.M. sloop _Demarara_, but had
been imprisoned on suspicion that he had defrauded the Government,
wrote home to Mr. C. Bathurst, brother of the M.P. for Bristol, to
this effect: "I deem it a duty I owe to humanity, to inform you that
Captain Lake, when commander of the _Recruit_, set a man belonging to
that vessel on shore at Sombrero, an uninhabited island in the
Atlantic Archipelago, where he died through hunger, or otherwise, for
more was never heard of him. This was known to Sir A. Cochrane, who
suffered this _titled murderer_ to escape, and he is now in command of
the _Ulysses_." The letter was dated March 24th, 1809, more than a
year after Jeffery had been left on Sombrero. Its purport was obvious
enough. Thomas wanted to be revenged on Cochrane for looking into the
matter of his alleged frauds.

The fat was now in the fire. Sir Francis Burdett took the matter up,
the Radicals throughout the country made immense capital out of the
starving to death of a poor seaman by a member of a noble family. The
case was kept perseveringly before the public, so that the Government
was constrained to issue orders for a strict inquiry to be made as to
whether Jeffery was still alive or dead.

Presently an account was received, purporting to be by Jeffery, giving
information relative to his rescue and his condition in America; but
as to this was appended a cross for his signature, whereas Jeffery was
known to have been able to write, the public were led to suspect that
this was a fabrication contrived by Lake's relatives and friends.

To settle the matter finally, a ship was despatched to bring Jeffery
home, and he arrived at Portsmouth in October, 1810, three years after
his adventure in Sombrero, and to find himself the hero of a party. On
October 22nd he attended at the Admiralty, where he received his
discharge, and had the "R" taken off his name, by which he became
entitled to all arrears of pay. The family of Captain Lake made him
liberal compensation for the very slight hardships he had undergone,
but which in Jeffery's own account and in that of his partisans were
magnified enormously.

On the 5th and 6th of February, 1810, a court-martial assembled on
board the _Gladiator_ at Portsmouth to try Captain Lake for having
abandoned a seaman on a desert and uninhabited island. Captain Lake
complained that the witnesses whom he might have summoned to speak for
him were away in various ships in different parts of the world. He
produced a letter signed by all the officers of the _Ulysses_, the
vessel he then commanded, protesting that he was humane and incapable
of doing an act of wanton cruelty.

At this time it was not known whether Jeffery was alive or dead.
Captain Lake made a manly defence. "You will be pleased to recollect
the evidence of Mr. Spencer, the chief witness on the part of the
prosecution, on this point. He himself advised me to get the man out
of the ship, and I declare that, by landing him, I thought he would be
made more sensible of his want of conduct, and reform in future. I was
persuaded at the time that the island was inhabited; in addition to
which, I cannot but suppose it within your knowledge that the island
is not out of reach of human assistance. I need not state that it is
within the track of vessels on particular destinations, and which
frequently pass within hail of the island. Jeffery found this to be
the case, and there is no reason to doubt but that he was taken off
the island; for on a search being made for him there afterwards, one
of the witnesses states expressly that not a trace of him was to be
found, which I cannot conceive could have been the case if he had
perished there, as is most unwarrantably asserted by Thomas.
Gentlemen, I have no doubt he was conveyed to America in perfect
safety. I myself verily believe he is in England at this moment,
consigned (as it were) to the merchants who, perhaps, are keeping him
concealed till the edict of the court-martial is known, and then he
may be let loose upon me, to seek a compensation in damages by an
action at law. The place of his concealment, however, has hitherto
eluded the diligence of my agents."

He appealed to the official report made to the Admiralty at the time
by Sir A. Cochrane: "Be pleased to consider attentively the statement
made by this official communication; contrast it with the letter of
Thomas, and then decide whether he was warranted in asserting that
Robert Jeffery had perished through the inhumanity of one whom he has
thought proper to describe as a 'titled murderer.'"

The court-martial pronounced sentence: "Pursuant to an order from the
Right Honourable Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, dated 3rd
February instant, and directed to the President, setting forth that a
letter had been addressed to their Lordships by the Right Hon. Charles
Bathurst, enclosing a letter to him from Mr. Charles Morgan Thomas,
dated 24th March, 1809 ... and having heard evidence produced in
support of the charge, and by the said Hon. Warwick Lake in his
Defence ... the Court is of opinion, That the charge has been proved
against the said Hon. Warwick Lake, and doth adjudge him to be
dismissed from His Majesty's service; and the said Hon. Warwick Lake
is hereby dismissed from His Majesty's service."

In 1836 the Hon. Warwick Lake succeeded to the viscounty, and died in
1848, leaving behind him only two daughters, one unmarried, the other
married to a Gloag. He was certainly very hardly treated, and as
certainly an utterly worthless scoundrel was exalted into a hero.
Jeffery returned to Polperro, where he was received with curiosity.
There his antecedents were well known, and the value of his statements
of terrible privation taken for what they were worth. Elsewhere he
received an enthusiastic ovation. He hired himself out to be "run" by
speculators at some of the minor theatres in London as "Jeffery the
Sailor." After a few months he returned to Polperro with money enough
in his pocket to enable him to purchase a small schooner for the
coasting trade.

The speculation did not answer his expectations. He fell into
consumption, and died in 1820, leaving a wife and daughter in great
penury. He was a mean, not to say a despicable creature, who was used
for political purposes, and when he had served these was allowed to
drop into his proper insignificance.

Authorities are a _Life of Robert Jeffery_, published by B. Crosby,
1811. An _Account of R. Jeffery_, published by J. Pitt, 1811.

_A Narrative of the Life of Robert Jeffery_, with portrait, 1810.

Couch, J.: _History of Polperro_, edited by J. Q. Couch, 1870.

James's _Naval History_, 1876, Vol. IV.

Cobbett's _Political Register_, 1810, pp. 396-415, 459-464.

Cobbett gives a report of the courts-martial.

The story was also given in Chambers's _Edinburgh Journal_, 1848, pp.

                         ADMIRAL RICHARD DARTON

Richard Darton Thomas was born at Saltash on 2nd June, 1777, son of
Charles and Mary Thomas of that place. Drinking in the sea air, living
in the midst of sailors and fisher-folk, he early took a fancy for the
sea, and entered as an able-bodied seaman in the Royal Navy, in 1790,
at the age of thirteen. His intelligence, his pleasant manners, won
the regard of his officers and he was raised to be midshipman in 1792,
and became master's mate in the ensuing year. He was in the _Boyne_
under Sir John Jervis when Martinique was captured, and on the return
of the _Boyne_ to England, he was on board when that vessel was burnt
at Spithead, 1st May, 1795. The marines had been exercising and firing
on the windward side, and it is supposed that some ignited paper of
the cartridges flew through the quarter-galley into the admiral's
cabin and communicated with the papers lying about on the table. It
was at 11 a.m. that the fire broke out, the flames bursting through
the poop before the fire was discovered, and it spread so rapidly that
in less than half an hour this fine ship, in spite of every exertion
of the officers and crew, was in a blaze fore and aft. As soon as the
fire was discovered by the fleet, all the boats of the ships proceeded
to the assistance of the _Boyne_, and the whole of the numerous crew,
except eleven, were saved.

The _Boyne's_ guns being loaded went off as they became heated,
discharging their shot among the shipping, whereby two men were killed
and one wounded on board the _Queen Charlotte_. At about half-past one
the _Boyne_ burnt from her cables and drifted to the east with a
streamer of fire and smoke pouring from her; she then grounded and
continued to burn till six o'clock, when the fire reached her magazine
and she blew up. This, as Captain Brenton wrote, "offered one of the
most magnificent sights that can be conceived. The afternoon was
perfectly calm and the sky clear; the flames which darted from her in
a perpendicular column of great height were terminated by an opaque
white cloud like a round cap, while the air was filled with fragments
of wreck in every direction, and the stump of the foremast was seen
above the smoke descending to the water."

We next find Thomas serving as lieutenant on board the _Excellent_,
commanded by Captain Collingwood, in the battle off Cape S. Vincent. It
was intended that the Spanish fleet should join that of Brest, if this
latter could get out, then if joined by the Dutch fleet, cover the
transports that would convey an invading army to England. But, as
Touchstone wisely said, there is "much virtue in _If_." Sir John Jervis
fell in with the Spanish fleet of twenty-seven sail of the line, on
February 14th, 1797, as it had just issued from Cadiz. The English had
only fifteen men-of-war; but the greater part of the Spanish crew were
about equally destitute of seamanship and spirit, and Nelson had said
just before the breaking out of the war with Spain, that if her fleet
were no better now than when it acted in alliance with us it would "soon
be done for." By breaking the line, by battering and boarding, four
Spanish ships of the line, including one of 112 guns, were taken; and
all the rest were driven into Cadiz and there blockaded.

During the action the _Excellent_, on which Richard Thomas was
lieutenant, was acknowledged by Nelson to have taken a very
distinguished share, and to have rendered him the most effectual support
in the hottest part of the battle, as will be seen by the following note
which he addressed to her commander, and an extract from his own account
of the transactions in which he himself was personally engaged.

His note ran: "Dear Collingwood,--A friend in need is a friend indeed."

Nelson's account of the assistance he received from the _Excellent_
runs thus:--

"At this time (about 2.15 p.m.) the _Salvador del Mundo_ and _San
Esidero_ dropped astern, and were fired into, in a masterly style, by
the _Excellent_, Captain Collingwood, who compelled the _San Esidero_
to hoist English colours; and I thought the large ship, the _Salvador
del Mundo_, had also struck, but Captain Collingwood, disdaining the
parade of taking possession of a vanquished enemy, most gallantly
pushed up, with every sail set, to save his old friend and messmate,
who was to appearance in a critical state, the _Blenheim_ being ahead,
the _Culloden_ crippled and astern. The _Excellent_ ranged up within
two feet of the _San Nicholas_, giving a most tremendous fire. The
_San Nicholas_ luffing up, the _San Josef_ fell on board her; and the
_Excellent_ passing on for the _Santa Trinidada_, the Captain resumed
her station abreast of these, and close alongside."

The _Excellent_, in fact, succeeded in getting close under the lee of
the _Santissima Trinidada_, mounting 130 guns, and engaged her for
nearly an hour, assisted by the _Orion_, the _Irresistible_, and the
_Blenheim_. The huge vessel was compelled to haul down her colours, but
the approach of thirteen other Spanish ships prevented her opponents
from profiting by the advantage they had gained. The total loss on the
_Excellent_ amounted to eleven men killed and a dozen wounded.

We need not follow Richard D. Thomas through his various changes of
ships. He was mainly with Collingwood, whose flag, as Rear-Admiral of
the White, was flying on board the _Barfleur_, of ninety-eight guns.
With him he remained on Channel service till the suspension of
hostilities in 1802. He was given the rank of commander in 1803, when
in the _Chichester_ off Halifax.

Returning from Nova Scotia, as a passenger on board the packet _Lady
Hobart_, commanded by Captain Fellowes, he experienced shipwreck and
terrible hardships, by the vessel running on an iceberg.

After giving an account of his sailing from Halifax, June 22nd, 1803,
and the capture of a French schooner laden with salt fish on the 26th,
Captain Fellowes says:--

"_Tuesday, 28th June._--Blowing hard from the westward, with a heavy
sea and hazy weather, with intervals of thick fog. About 1 a.m. the
ship, then going by the log at the rate of seven miles an hour, struck
against an island of ice with such violence that several of the crew
were pitched out of their hammocks. Being roused out of my sleep by
the suddenness of the shock, I instantly ran upon the deck. The helm
being put hard aport, the ship struck again about the chest-tree, then
swung round on her keel, her stern-post being stove in, and her rudder
carried away before we could succeed in an attempt to haul her off. At
this time the island of ice appeared to hang quite over the ship,
possessing a high peak, which must have been at least twice the
height of our masthead; and we suppose the length of the island to
have been from a quarter to half a mile.

"The sea was now breaking over the ice in a dreadful manner, the water
rushing in so fast as to fill the hold in a few minutes. Hove the guns
overboard, cut away the anchors from the bows, got two sails under the
ship's bottom, kept both pumps going, and baling with buckets at the
main hatchway, in the hope of preventing her from sinking; but in less
than a quarter of an hour she settled down in her forechains in the

"Our situation was now become most perilous. Aware of the danger of a
moment's delay in hoisting out the boats, I consulted Captain Thomas
of the Navy, and Mr. Bargus, my master, as to the propriety of making
any further attempts to save the ship."

Both declared that nothing effectual could be done to the vessel
herself, and that, as every moment was precious, the boats should be
got out and manned. Of these there were two, the cutter and the
jolly-boat, and the ladies were placed in the former.

Captain Fellowes expressed himself afterwards warmly of the ability
and readiness with which Captain Thomas aided him. In bringing the
ladies into the cutter, one of them, Miss Cottenham, was so terrified
that she sprang from the wreck and pitched in the bottom of the boat
with considerable violence. This accident might have been serious, but
happily she was not injured.

"The few provisions which had been saved from the men's berths were
then put into the boats. By this time the main deck forward was under
water, and nothing but the quarter-deck appeared; I then ordered my
men into the boats.

"The ship was sinking fast, and I called to the men to haul up and
receive me, intending to drop into the cutter from the end of the
trysail boom.

"The sea was running so high at the time we hoisted out the boats that
I scarcely flattered myself we should get them out safely; and,
indeed, nothing but the steady and orderly conduct of the crew could
have enabled us to effect so difficult and hazardous an undertaking;
it is a justice to them to observe that not a man in the ship
attempted to make use of the liquor, which every one had in his power.

"We had scarce quitted the ship when she suddenly gave a heavy lurch
to port, and then went down foremost. I cannot attempt to describe my
own feelings, or the sensations of my people, exposed as we were, in
two small open boats, upon the great Atlantic Ocean, bereft of all
assistance but that which our own exertions, under Providence, could
afford us, we narrowly escaped being swallowed up in the vortex.

"We rigged the foremast, and prepared to shape our course in the best
manner that circumstances would admit of, the wind blowing from the
precise point on which it was necessary to sail to reach the nearest
land. An hour had scarcely elapsed from the time the ship struck till
she foundered. The distribution of the crew had already been made in
the following order, which we afterwards preserved:--

"In the cutter were embarked three ladies and myself, Captain Richard
Thomas; the French commander of the schooner; the master's mate,
gunner, steward, carpenter, and eight seamen; in all eighteen people,
whose weight, together with the provisions, brought the boat's gunwale
down to within six or seven inches of the water. From this confined
space some idea may be formed of our crowded state; but it is
scarcely possible for the imagination to conceive the extent of our
sufferings in consequence.

"In the jolly-boat were embarked Mr. Samuel Bargus, master;
Lieut.-Colonel George Cocks, of the 1st Regiment of Guards;[16] the
boatswain, sailmaker, and seven seamen--in all eleven persons.

"The only provisions, etc., we were enabled to save consisted of
between forty and fifty pounds of biscuits, one vessel containing five
gallons of water, a small jug of the same, and part of a small barrel
of spruce beer; one demi-john of rum, a few bottles of port wine, with
two compasses, a quadrant, a spy-glass, a small tin mug, and a
wine-glass. The deck lantern, which had a few spare candles in it, had
been likewise thrown into the boat; and the cook having had the
precaution to secure the tinder-box and some matches that were kept in
a bladder, we were afterwards enabled to steer by night.

"The wind was now blowing strong from the westward, with a heavy sea,
and the day just dawned. Estimating ourselves to be at the distance of
350 miles from S. John's, Newfoundland, with a prospect of a
continuance of westerly winds, it became necessary to use the
strictest economy. I represented to my companions in distress that our
resolution, once made, ought on no account to be changed, and that we
must begin by suffering privations, which I foresaw would be greater
than I ventured to explain. To each person, therefore, were served out
half a biscuit and a glass of wine, which was the only allowance for
the ensuing twenty-four hours, all agreeing to leave the water
untouched as long as possible."

On the following day even this small allowance had to be contracted,
in consequence of the biscuit being much damaged by salt water during
the night. "Soon after daylight we made sail, with the jolly-boat in
tow, and stood close-hauled to the northward and westward, in the hope
of reaching the coast of Newfoundland or of being picked up by some
vessel. Passed two islands of ice. We now said prayers, and returned
thanks to God for our deliverance."

It was now the 4th July. The sufferings of those in the boats became
excessive. The commander of the French schooner that had been captured
went mad, and threw himself overboard. One of the French prisoners
became so outrageous that it was found necessary to lash him to the
bottom of the boat.

At last, on this same day, the 4th July, after seven days of dreadful
privation and incessant storm, they reached Conception Bay, in the
Avalon Peninsula, Newfoundland. They had been reduced to a quarter of
a biscuit per diem and a wine-glass of port wine and spirit, and then
of water.

Captain Fellowes says: "Overpowered by my own feelings, and impressed
with the recollections of our sufferings and the sight of so many
deplorable objects, I promised to offer up our solemn thanks to heaven
for our miraculous deliverance. Every one cheerfully assented, and as
soon as I opened the Prayer-book there was an universal silence. A
spirit of devotion was singularly manifested on this occasion, and to
the benefits of a religious sense in uncultivated minds must be
ascribed that discipline, good order, and exertion, which even the
sight of land could scarcely produce.

"The wind having blown with great violence from off the coast, we did
not reach the landing-place at Island Cove till four o'clock in the
evening. All the women and children in the village, with two or three
fishermen (the rest of the men being absent), came down to the beach,
and appearing deeply affected at our wretched situation, assisted in
carrying us up the craggy rocks, over which we were obliged to pass to
get to their habitations.

"The small village afforded neither medical aid nor fresh provisions,
of which we stood so much in need, potatoes and salt fish being the
only food of the inhabitants. I determined, therefore, to lose no time
in proceeding to S. John's, having hired a small schooner for that
purpose. On the 7th July we embarked in three divisions, placing the
most infirm in the schooner, the master's mate being in charge of the
cutter, and the boatswain of the jolly-boat; but such was the
exhausted state of nearly the whole party, that the day was
considerably advanced before we could get under way.

"Towards dusk it came on to blow hard in squalls off the land, when we
lost sight of the cutter, and were obliged to come to anchor outside
S. John's Harbour. We were under great apprehensions for the cutter's
safety, as she had no grapnel, and lest she should be driven out to
sea, but at daylight we perceived her and the schooner entering the

"The ladies, Colonel Cooke, Captain Thomas, and myself, having left
the schooner when she anchored, notwithstanding the badness as well as
extreme darkness of the night, reached the shore about midnight. We
wandered for some time about the streets, there being no house open at
that late hour, but were at length admitted into a small tenement,
where we passed the remainder of the night on chairs, there being but
one miserable bed for the ladies. Early on the following day, our
circumstances being made known, hundreds of people crowded down to the
landing-place. Nothing could exceed their surprise on seeing the
boats that had carried twenty-nine persons such a distance over a
boisterous sea, and when they beheld so many miserable objects, they
could not conceal their emotions of pity and concern."

It was found that the greatest circumspection had to be used in
administering nourishment to those who came on shore. They were so much
frost-bitten, moreover, as to require constant surgical assistance. Many
had lost their toes, and they were constrained to remain at S. John's
till they were in a fit state to be removed to Halifax.

On the 11th July Captain Fellowes, with Captain Thomas, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Cooke, engaged the cabin of a small vessel, bound
for Oporto, so as to return to England.

When Captain Fellowes sent in his report on the loss of the _Lady
Hobart_, he added a postscript: "I regret that, in the hurry of
drawing up this narrative, I should have omitted to make particular
mention of Captain Richard Thomas, R.N., from whose great professional
skill and advice throughout our perilous voyage I derived the greatest

In December, 1803, Captain Thomas commissioned the _Ætna_ bomb, and
soon after joined the fleet under Lord Nelson in the Mediterranean
station, where he was very actively employed up to the battle of
Trafalgar. After that he served as flag-captain under his old friend
and patron, Lord Collingwood.

In February, 1811, he was appointed to the _Undaunted_, employed in
co-operation with the Spanish patriots off the coast of Catalonia. He
was subsequently employed in command of a squadron stationed in the Gulf
of Lyons, blockading Toulon. He was made Vice-Admiral of the Blue in
1848; Admiral of the Blue, 1854; Admiral of the White, 1857, in which
year he died, and was buried at Stonehouse, 27th August. He married, in
1827, Gratiana, daughter of Lieutenant-General Richard Williams, R.N.

His brother, Charles Thomas, M.D., was for some time physician to the
Devonport Dispensary.


[16] Afterwards Sir George Cocks, K.C.B., who lost an arm at Waterloo.

                         COMMANDER JOHN POLLARD

Little did John Pollard as signal midshipman of the _Victory_ in the
battle of Trafalgar suppose that he was running up a message to the
fleet from Nelson that would never be forgotten so long as the English
name lasts, and the Englishman maintains the character which has ever
belonged to him.

He was the son of John Pollard, and entered the Navy on November 1st,
1797. Before the battle commenced Nelson dictated the signal, "England
_confides_ that every man will do his duty." Pollard, to whom the
order was given, remarked that the word _confides_ was not in the
code, and suggested in its stead the term _expects_, which Nelson at
once accepted. Napoleon so much admired this last order of Nelson's
that he caused it to be printed, with a difference, of France for
England, and commanded that a copy should be given to each of the
officers of the navy. "It is the best of lessons," he said.

Pollard was born at Kingsand, Cornwall, on 27th July, 1787, so that he
was aged but eighteen when he suggested the alteration in Nelson's
famous message, and saw it signalled to the fleet. He died in the
Royal Hospital, Greenwich, 22nd April, 1868, at the advanced age of
eighty-one. He did nothing further that was remarkable, and is
remembered only in connection with Nelson's signal, an instance of:--

          Unregarded age in corners thrown

                      THE CASE OF BOSAVERN PENLEZ

At the end of June, 1749, a sailor was robbed in a low, disreputable
house in the Strand. He stormed and demanded the restoration of his
purse, but could obtain no redress; he was laughed at and ejected from
the place. He at once returned to his vessel and narrated his wrongs,
and so roused the resentment of his comrades that they promised to
accompany him to the Strand and work retribution on the thieves.

Accordingly on July 1st a body of them marched down the Strand, and
reaching the house broke in the door and "levell'd their rage against
the house and goods of the caitif, whom they looked on as the author
of the villainy exercised on their brother Tar. Accordingly they went
to work as if they were breaking up a ship, and in a trice unrigg'd
the house from top to bottom. The movables were thrown out of the
windows or doors to their comrades in the street, where, a bonfire
being made, they were burnt, but with so much decency and order, so
little confusion, that notwithstanding the crowd gather'd together on
this occasion, a child of five years old might have crossed the street
in the thickest of them without the least danger.

"The neighbours, too, though their houses were not absolutely free from
danger of fire by the sparks flying from the bonfire, were so little
alarm'd at this riot that they stood at their doors, and look'd out of
their windows, with as little concern, and perhaps more glee and mirth,
than if they had been at a droll in Bartholomew Fair, seeing the painted
scene of the renoun'd Troy Town in flames." After the house had been
completely gutted, and not before, the guards came from the Savoy,
which, by the way, was not above a good stone's throw from the scene of
action, whereupon the sailors withdrew, unarrested and unpursued. If
matters had remained here it would have been well, but unhappily this
first performance whetted the appetites of the sailors for another, and
they resolved on sacking another house a few doors from that they had
gutted, which also did not bear a good character.

Accordingly next evening, being Sunday, they returned, and proceeded
to treat this second house in the same manner as the first "without so
much as the least interruption, till they had full timely notice to
get off before the guards arrived, who came, as before, too late, that
one would have been tempted to imagine they came too late on purpose.

"A regular bonfire then having been made as before, all the goods of
the house were triumphantly convey'd into it; and if the finding of
bundles and effects of any of the actors would have aggravated their
guilt, numbers might have been seized with the goods upon them,
between the house and the bonfire, where they were all carefully
destroy'd, to avoid any slur or suspicion of pillage for private use.
This was carry'd to such an exactness that a little boy, who perhaps
thought no great harm to save a gilt cage out of the fire for his bird
at home, was discover'd carrying it off, when the leaders of the mob
took it from him and threw it into the fire, and his age alone
protected him from severe punishment. Nothing, in short, was imbezzled
or diverted, except an old gown or petticoat, thrown at a hackney
coachman's head as a reward for a dutiful Huzza, as he drove by.

"As to the neighbours, who were at their doors and windows seeing the
whole without the least concern or alarm, there was not probably one
of those who, though as good and as loyal subjects as any his Majesty
has, and as well affected to the peace and quiet of his government,
imagin'd or dream'd there was any spirit of sedition or riotous
designs in these proceedings beyond the open and expressed intention
of destroying these obnoxious houses; and tho' the coolest and
sensiblest doubtless thought the joke was going too far, and wished
even that the Government had interposed sooner, and less faintly, yet
they had not the least notion of any such extraordinary measure of
guilt in their proceedings as would affect life or limb."

The sailors had now gathered about them, some as lookers on, some as
assistants, a large number of men and boys, and these now moved up the
street in a body, with a bell ringing before them, to the house of one
Peter Wood, a hairdresser, but in bad odour, as keeping a disorderly
house, under the sign of the Star.

Into this house the mob broke, although Peter Wood offered money if
only they would spare him and its contents. But they were deaf to his
entreaties, and his house was only saved by the arrival of the guards,
who at once proceeded to arrest several persons. Among those they
secured was Bosavern Penlez, or Penlees, son of a clergyman in
Cornwall, who had been put apprentice to a wig-maker in town.

With him were secured John Wilson, Benjamin Lander, and another, who
shortly after died of gaol-fever in Newgate. All these four, not one
of whom was a sailor, were locked up in prison, and kept there till
the September Sessions, when they were indicted "for that they,
together with divers other persons, to the number of forty and
upwards, being feloniously and riotously assembled, to the
disturbance of the public peace, did begin to demolish the house of
Peter Wood against the form of the statute in that case made and
provided, July the 3rd."

Against Lander, Peter Wood swore that "he was in the passage of his
house, assisting to break the partition; that that was the first time
of his seeing him; that he broke the window of the bar with his stick;
that he (Lander) was taken upstairs."

On a cross-examination he averred that he did not see Lander at the
first coming up of the mob to his house; but he asserted that he stuck
fast to him when he saw him in the passage, which was half an hour
before the arrival of the guards.

Peter Wood's wife swore that Lander had knocked her down, and had
beaten her almost to a jelly.

Lander, in his defence, proved that between twelve and one o'clock
that night he was going home to his lodgings, when he heard that there
was a riot in the Strand; and that meeting with a soldier who had been
ordered with his detachment to disperse the mob in the Strand, he
persuaded him to enter with him into a public-house and have a drink.
The soldier consented, and then left, and Lander followed to see the
fun, and found the mob retreating to Temple Bar, driven forward by the
guards. Thereupon, according to his own account, he went into Peter
Wood's house to see what mischief had been done, when Wood laid hold
of him, under the notion that he was a straggler left behind of those
who had begun to wreck the house. Happily at that moment in came the
soldier whom Lander had treated to a pint of beer. The evidence of
this soldier was conclusive, and Lander was discharged, after having
suffered imprisonment for over two months.

It appears evident that Peter Wood's testimony was false; not perhaps
purposely so, but erroneous through his mistaking one man for another
in the excitement of the partial destruction of his house.

The evidence he gave against John Wilson was that the man knocked him
down, and that Wilson, stooping over him, asked, "You dog, are you not
dead yet?" and that he caught hold of Wilson's hand and kissed it and
prayed for mercy. Moreover, Mrs. Wood testified that she also had
entreated him to stay his hand, and had "held him by the face, and
stroked him." The waiting-man clinched the testimony by swearing that
he also had seen Wilson in the parlour as the settee-bed was being
thrown out of the window, and that he (Wilson) helped to throw the bed
out. John Wilson earnestly protested that a mistake had been made, and
that he was not the man who had done that of which he was accused. He
brought numerous testimonies to his good character; but these availed
not, and he was condemned to death.

Bosavern Penlez admitted that he had been in Peter Wood's house; he
had been rather tipsy at the time, and had been drawn in to follow the
mob, but he had done no mischief, neither had he joined the rabble
with any evil intent. This availed not; he also was condemned to
death. At the last moment Wilson was reprieved and finally pardoned;
but poor Bosavern was hanged at Tyburn on the 18th October, 1749, at
the age of twenty-three.

Much feeling had been roused in favour of Penlez, and a petition had
been got up, numerously signed, requesting that he might be pardoned;
but it availed nothing. Then a pamphlet appeared, entitled, _The Case
of the Unfortunate Bosavern Penlez_, published by T. Clement, S.
Paul's Churchyard, 1749.

As this was widely disseminated, and comments were passed that a
grievous injustice had been committed, Henry Fielding, the magistrate,
published an answer, entitled _A True State of the Case of Bosavern
Penlez_. A. Miller, Strand, 1749.

According to this, on July 1st the house of one Owen, in the Strand,
had been attacked. Nathaniel Munns, beadle, had tried to stop it, and
two rioters were taken by the constables and conveyed to the prison of
the Duchy of Lancaster Liberty. On Sunday, July 2nd, there was a
recurrence of the riot, outside the beadle's house; the windows were
broken, the bars wrenched away, and the prisoners were released, and
doors and windows of the watch-house were smashed.

John Carter, constable, gave evidence as to July 1st, that two
wagon-loads of goods had been consumed by fire outside Owen's house.
He appealed to General Campbell, at Somerset House, for assistance,
and the General sent twelve of the Guards, when the rioters retreated,
and began an attack on the house of one Stanhope, throwing stones,
breaking windows, and pelting the soldiers, so that soon forty men of
the Guards had to be despatched to disperse the rioters.

On Sunday, July 2nd, according to the constable, the mob again
assembled in front of Stanhope's house and demolished its contents.
Mr. Wilson, a woollen draper, and Mr. Actor, of the same trade,
applied for protection, as their shops adjoined the house of Stanhope,
and again soldiers were sent for, who dispersed the mob.

James Cecil, Constable of St. George's parish, deposed that on Monday,
July 3rd, he was attending prisoners in a coach to Newgate, and he had
difficulty in making his way through the mob; and he saw the rioters
engaged in smashing the windows of a house near the Old Bailey.

Saunders Welsh, gent., High Constable of Holborn, deposed that on
Sunday, July 2nd, he had received information from Stanhope, as to the
wrecking of Owen's house on the previous night, and of his fears for
his own. On returning that same evening through Fleet Street, he
perceived a great fire in the Strand, upon which he proceeded to the
house of Peter Wood, who informed him that the rioters had demolished
the house of Stanhope, burning his furniture and goods, and that they
threatened to deal in the same manner with his house. Whereupon, he,
Mr. Saunders Welsh, applied at the Tilt-yard for a military force,
which he could only obtain with much difficulty, as he could produce
no order from a Justice of the Peace. At length he procured such
order, and then an officer and forty men were sent to the scene of the
riot. On reaching Cecil Street, he ordered that the drum should be
beaten. When he came up to Peter Wood's house, he found that the mob
had already in part demolished it, and had thrown a great part of its
contents into the street, and were debating about burning them. Had
they done so, the deponent said, it would infallibly have set fire to
the houses on both sides of the street, which at that point was very
narrow, and opposite Wood's house was the bank of Messrs. Snow and
Denne. Hearing, however, the rattle of the drum, and the tramp of the
advancing soldiers, the mob retreated, and it was whilst so retreating
that Bosavern Penlez was arrested, carrying off with him some of the
goods of Peter Wood.

Penlez and others were brought before Henry Fielding, J. P. for
Middlesex, and were committed to Newgate. This was on Monday. But the
same evening there was a recrudescence of the riots, and four thousand
sailors assembled on Tower Hill with the resolution to march to
Temple Bar. To obviate all future danger, a larger party of soldiers
was called out, and these, along with the peace officers, patrolled
the Strand all night.

Samuel Marsh, watchman of St. Dunstan's, had apprehended Bosavern
Penlez, as he was making off with a bundle of linen, which he
pretended belonged to his wife. Before he was arrested, the watchman
saw him thrusting divers lace objects into his bosom and pockets, but
he let fall a lace cap. When apprehended, he protested that he was
conveying his wife's property, who had pawned all his clothes, and
that he was retaliating by taking her articles to pawn.

There were other witnesses against Penlez, and although the evidence
of Peter Wood was worthless, that of the beadles and watchmen sufficed
to show that he had been collecting and making into a bundle various
articles from Wood's house, with the object of purloining them. The
question of Penlez having been in Wood's house was not gone into.
Bosavern in vain called for witnesses to his character. His master,
the peruke maker, declined to put in an appearance and give favourable
testimony; for, in fact, Penlez had been leading a dissipated and
disorderly life. Henry Fielding, in conclusion, says: "The first and
second day of the riot, no magistrate, nor any other higher
peace-officer than a petty constable (save only Mr. Welsh) interfered
in it. On the third day only one magistrate took on him to act. When
the prisoners were committed to Newgate, no public prosecution was for
some time ordered against them; and when it was ordered, it was
carried on so mildly, that one of the prisoners (Wilson) being not in
prison, was, though contrary to the laws, at the desire of a noble
person in great power, bailed out, when a capital indictment was then
found against him. At the trial, neither an Attorney nor
Solicitor-General, nor even one of the King's Council, appeared
against the prisoners. Lastly, when two were convicted, one only was
executed; and I doubt very much whether even he would have suffered,
had it not appeared that a capital indictment for burglary was
likewise found by the Grand Jury against him, and upon such evidence
as I think every impartial man must allow would have convicted him
(had he been tried) for felony at least."

There had been found on Penlez ten lace caps, four laced
handkerchiefs, three pairs of laced ruffles, two laced clouts, five
plain handkerchiefs, five plain aprons, one laced apron, all the
property of the wife of Peter Wood. It was altogether false that
Penlez was married. Fielding says: "I hope I have said enough to prove
that the man who was made an example of deserved his fate. Which, if
he did, I think it will follow that more hath been said and done in
his favour than ought to have been; and that the clamour of severity
against the Government hath been in the highest degree unjustifiable.
To say the truth, it would be more difficult to justify the lenity
used on this occasion."

The case of Bosavern Penlez was the more hard and open to criticism, in
that, in the very same year, there was a serious riot in the Haymarket
Theatre, when the Duke of Cumberland, a prince of the blood, had drawn
his sword, and leaping upon the stage, had called on everybody to follow
him. The people, ripe for mischief, were too loyal to decline a prince's
invitation. The seats were smashed, the scenery torn down, and the
wreckage carried into the street, where a bonfire was made of it; and
but for the timely appearance of the authorities the building itself
would have been added to the fuel. For this, no one was hanged. What
was sauce for the goose was not sauce for the gander.

Reference is made to the case of Bosavern Penlez in Walpole's _Memoirs
of the Last Ten Years of George II_, I, p. 11, and in the _Private
Journal of John Byrom_, published by the Chetham Society, as also in
the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for 1749.

                              SAMUEL FOOTE

This dramatic author and player was born at Truro in the year
1721.[17] His father, John Foote, was a magistrate of the county of
Cornwall and commissioner of the Prize office and Fine contract. He
was well descended, deriving from the family of Foote of Trelogorsick,
in Veryan, afterwards of Lambesso, in S. Clements, acquired by bequest
in the reign of Charles II. The arms of the family were, _vert_ a
chevron between three doves _argent_--the doves singularly
inappropriate as the cognizance of Samuel, as that bird was deemed to
be without gall. Bodannan, in S. Enoder, was acquired by the Footes of
Lambesso by purchase. The family did not register its arms and
establish its pedigree at the visitation of the Heralds in 1620, but
that it was gentle admits of no dispute. As no pedigree of the family
has been recorded, it is unknown who was the grandfather of Samuel
Foote, but possibly he may have been the Samuel Foote of Tiverton
whose daughter Elizabeth married, 1691, Dennis Glyn of Cardinham, son
of Nicolas Glyn of Cardinham, M.P. for Bodmin and Sheriff of Cornwall.
Samuel's mother, descended in the female line from the Earls of
Rutland, was daughter of Sir Edward Goodere, Bart., who had two
surviving brothers out of six--Sir John Dinely Goodere, Bart., and
Samuel Goodere, captain of His Majesty's ship _Ruby_. A
disagreement having arisen between the two brothers, Sir John cut off
the entail of his estates and settled them on his sister's family.
This widened the breach, and the brothers had not spoken for years.

[Illustration: S. Foote]

Matters were in this train when, by accident, both brothers met in
Bristol in the January of 1741. Samuel was then in command of his
ship, lying in the roads. Sir John was invited to dine with Mr. Jarrit
Smith, an attorney living on College Green, and the captain called on
this gentleman and requested permission to be admitted to his table to
meet his brother, whom he had not seen for a very long time. Mr. Smith
readily acceded to this proposal, and was glad to have the opportunity
of apparently reconciling the brothers. After dinner he left the room
for an hour in order to afford them a better opportunity of completing
the reconciliation. On his return he found them on the most friendly
terms. In this manner they parted at six o'clock in the evening, the
captain taking his leave first. When some half an hour later Sir John
quitted the house, as he was passing the College Green Coffee-house,
on his way to his lodgings, he was fallen upon by a party of the
sailors of the _Ruby_ and the _Vernon_ privateer, with Captain Goodere
at their head; a cloak was thrown over his head to muffle his cries
for help, and he was hurried to a boat, awaiting them in the river,
and conveyed thence on board the _Ruby_. When there, they got him into
the purser's cabin, and the captain, by promises of ample reward,
induced two of his sailors, Matthew Mahony and Charles White, to
strangle him. In order to effect this the captain cut the cord that
attached his escritoire to the floor of the cabin, and himself passed
it round his brother's neck. Then, drawing his sword, he stood
sentinel at the door and bade the two ruffians do their duty. Owing to
the struggles of Sir John and the nervousness of the men, half an
hour elapsed before the baronet was dead. At last, when all was over,
the captain deliberately walked to his brother's body, held a candle
over it to assure himself that he was dead, and exclaimed, "Aye, this
will do; his business is now done."

Next day the circumstance of a gentleman having been kidnapped on
College Green induced Mr. Smith to make inquiries; when, finding that
the description of the gentleman answered to the person of Sir John
Dinely Goodere, he entertained strong suspicions of foul play shown by
his brother, and he applied to the mayor of Bristol for a warrant to
search the _Ruby_. This was granted, and there the baronet was found
strangled in the purser's cabin, and the captain already secured by
the first lieutenant and two of the men, who had overheard the
conference relative to the murder.

Captain Samuel Goodere and his two associates were tried at the next
assizes at Bristol on March 26th, 1741, were found guilty of "wilful
murder," and were hanged.

Thus Mrs. Foote, deriving under the will of her brother Sir John,
became heiress to his estates.

John Foote had two sons by this lady, Samuel and Edward. The first,
the subject of this memoir, was designed for the Bar; the second for
the Church. This latter was a feeble-minded man, who never obtained
preferment, dribbled away his fortune, and was latterly in great
distress, supported by the liberality of his brother.

Foote was sent to school as a boy under the worthy Mr. Conon,
head-master of Truro Grammar School. There he was initiated into
Terence's plays, and in acting his part excelled all his
schoolfellows, and it was in consequence of his success within this
little circle that he caught his first inspiration for the stage.

One of the earliest instances of his jocularity, as practised on his
own father, is related by R. Polwhele in his _Traditions and
Recollections_. Imitating the voice of Mr. Nicholas Donnithorne, from
an inner apartment where his father had supposed that gentleman was
sitting, he drew his father into conversation on the subject of a
family transaction between the two old gentlemen, and thus possessed
himself of a secret, which, whilst it displayed his power of mimicry,
justly incurred his parent's displeasure.

Mr. Polwhele says: "Those (of the inhabitants of Truro) are gone who
used in his presence to arise trembling with their mirth. Conscious of
some oddnesses in their appearance or character, they shrunk from his
sly observation. They knew that every civility, every hospitable
attention, could not save them from his satire; and, after such
experience, they naturally avoided his company instead of courting it.
Foote, indeed, had no restraint upon himself, with respect either to
his conversation or his conduct. He was, in every sense of the word, a
libertine.... He was certainly a very unamiable character. Polly
Hicks, a pretty, silly, simpering girl, was dazzled by his wit. She
had some property; he therefore made her his wife, but never treated
her as such."

The father died soon after the establishment of his sons in their
several professions; but the mother lived to the advanced age of
eighty-four. W. Cooke says of her:--

"We had the pleasure of dining with her, in company with a granddaughter
of hers, at a barrister's chambers in Gray's Inn, when she was at the
age of seventy-nine; and although she had full sixty steps to ascend
before she reached the drawing-room, she did it without the help of a
cane, and with all the activity of a woman of forty.

"Her manners and conversation were of the same cast--witty, humorous,
and convivial; and though her remarks occasionally (considering her
age and sex) rather strayed beyond the limits of becoming mirth, she,
on the whole, delighted everybody, and was confessedly the heroine of
that day's party.

"She was likewise in face and person the very model of her son
Samuel--short, fat, and flabby, with an eye that eternally gave the
signal for mirth and good humour; in short, she resembled him so much
in all her movements, and so strongly identified his person and
manners, that by changing habits they might be thought to have
interchanged sexes."

After leaving school Samuel Foote received his education at Worcester
College, Oxford, formerly Gloucester Hall, which owed its refoundation
and change of name to Sir Thomas Cooke, Bart., a second cousin of

The church connected with the college fronted a lane, where cattle
were sometimes turned out to graze during the night, and the bell-rope
hung very low in the middle of the outside porch. Foote one night made
a loop in the cord and inserted a wisp of hay. One of the cows
smelling this seized it, and by tugging at the rope made the bell
ring, and continue to ring at jerky intervals till the hay was
consumed. This produced consternation in the neighbourhood; people ran
out of their houses thinking that there must be a fire somewhere. The
same happened next and the following nights, and it was concluded that
the church was haunted. But Dr. Gower, the then provost, and the
sexton sat up one night and watched, and discovered that this was a
prank of one of the scholars.

From the University Foote was removed to the Temple, but the dryness
of the law was not to his taste, and he turned to the stage.

His first appearance was in the part of Othello at the Haymarket
Theatre, February 6th, 1747. But as Macklin said on this occasion, "it
was little better than a total failure. Neither his figure, voice, nor
manners corresponded with the character; and in those mixed passages
of tenderness and rage the former was expressed so whiningly, and the
latter in a tone so sharp and inharmonious, that the audience could
scarcely refrain from laughing."

Probably he speedily saw that his genius did not lie in the direction of
tragedy, and he soon struck out into a new and untrodden path, in which
he at once attained the two great ends of affording entertainment to the
people and gaining emolument for himself. He opened the Haymarket
Theatre in the spring of 1747 with a piece of his own writing, entitled
_The Diversions of the Morning_. This consisted of a mimicry of the
best-known men of the day--actors, doctors, lawyers, statesmen. Had he
contented himself with this he might not have been interfered with, but
to the piece of mimicry he added the performance of popular farces--and
he had failed to procure a licence. To evade this difficulty he
announced his entertainment as a Concert of Music, after which would be
given _gratis_ his _Diversions_ and a play.

The managers of the patent houses could not tolerate such an
infringement of their rights. They appealed to the Westminster
magistrates, and on the second night the constables entered the
theatre and dispersed the audience.

But Foote was not so easily put down. The very next morning he
published the following statement in the _General Advertiser_: "On
Saturday afternoon, exactly at twelve o'clock, at the New Theatre in
the Haymarket, Mr. Foote begs the favour of his friends to come and
drink a dish of chocolate with him, and 'tis hoped there will be a
great deal of company and some joyous spirits. He will endeavour to
make the morning as diverting as possible. Tickets to be had for this
entertainment at George's Coffee House, Temple Bar, without which no
one will be admitted. N.B.--Sir Dilbury Diddle will be there, and Lady
Betty Frisk has absolutely promised." No one knew what this
advertisement meant, and a crowded house was the natural result. When
the curtain rose Foote came forward and informed the audience that "as
he was training some young performers for the stage, he would, with
their permission, whilst chocolate was getting ready, proceed with his
instructions before them." Then some young people, engaged for the
purpose, were brought upon the stage, and under the pretence of
instructing them in the art of acting, he introduced his imitations.

As he was not interfered with, he changed the hour to the evening and
substituted tea for chocolate.

He mimicked Quin as a watchman, with deep, sonorous voice calling out,
"Past twelve o'clock, and a cloudy morning"; Delane as a one-eyed
beggar; Peg Woffington as an orange girl, and imitated the unpleasant
squealing tone of her voice; Garrick in his dying scenes, on which he
prided himself.

As may well be supposed, actors, who are peculiarly sensitive to
ridicule, were offended. When they appeared in a grave play, as for
instance, when Garrick was dying on the stage, the audience laughed,
recalling what they had witnessed at the Haymarket. They complained,
"What is fun to you is death to us," but Foote paid no regard to their
remonstrances; he laughed and pursued his course. He was perfectly
unscrupulous, wholly devoid of delicacy of feeling, and would turn
his best friend and benefactor into ridicule in public. But when,
later, Weston took him off, he was highly incensed, and bided his time
to be revenged on him.

Next year Foote called his performance "An Auction of Pictures." Here
is one of his advertisements: "At the forty-ninth day's sale at his
auction rooms in the Haymarket Mr. Foote will exhibit a choice
collection of pictures--some new lots, consisting of a poet, a beau, a
Frenchman, a miser, a taylor, a sot, two young gentlemen, and a ghost.
Two of which are originals, the rest copies from the best masters." In
this several well-known characters were mimicked--Sir Thomas Deveil,
then the acting magistrate for Westminster, Cook, the auctioneer, and
orator Henley. To the attractions of his "Auction," in ridicule of the
Italian Opera, he gave a "Cat Concert." The principal performer in
this was a man well known at the time by the name of Cat Harris.
Harris had attended several rehearsals, where his _mewing_ gave great
satisfaction to the manager and performers. However, on the last
rehearsal Harris was missing, and as nobody knew where he lived,
Shuter was deputed to find him, if possible. He inquired in vain for
some time; at last he was informed that he lived in a certain court in
the Minories, but at which house he could not exactly learn. Shuter
entered the court and set up a cat solo, which instantly roused his
brother musician in his garret, who answered him in the same tune.
"Ho, ho! Are you there, my friend?" said Shuter. "Come along; the
stage waits for you."

Fashion, as usual, flocked to the Haymarket to hear and see its tastes
turned into ridicule.

At the close of the season (1748) Foote was left a considerable
fortune by a relative of his mother, which enabled him to move in all
that luxury of dissipation which was so congenial to his temper. Then
he departed suddenly for Paris and communicated with none of his
friends. Some supposed him to have been killed in a duel, some that he
had been hanged, some that he had drunk himself to death. But he
reappeared in London at the close of the season of 1752, having
dissipated the fortune left him, but having enriched his mind with
studies made in France. He brought with him a play he had composed,
_The Englishman in Paris_, which was brought out at Covent Garden
Theatre on March 24th, 1753, and it proved a success; so much so, that
Murphy, the dramatic author, wrote a sequel to it, _The Englishman
returned from Paris_, which he had the frankness to show to Foote, who
was his friend. Foote, without a word, without asking leave,
appropriated the plot and characters, and turned out a farce with the
same title before Murphy had placed his. Murphy was, naturally, highly
offended, and produced his play in another theatre, but without great
success, as Foote's play had already taken with the public.

In the season of 1757 Foote produced at Drury Lane his comedy of _The
Author_, that principally turns on the distresses incident to a writer
dependent on his pen for his daily bread, and on the caricature of a
gentleman of family and fortune, whom he entitled Cadwalader, who
appears ambitious to be thought a patron of the arts and sciences, of
which he is profoundly ignorant. Cadwalader was a caricature of one of
his most intimate friends, a Mr. Ap Rice, a man of fortune and
education, and allied to many families of distinction. At his table,
where Foote was hospitably received, in open and unguarded familiar
discourse, Ap Rice had laid himself open to ridicule. The Welsh
gentleman was stout, had a broad, unmeaning stare, a loud voice, and
boisterous manner, and as he spoke his head was continually turning to
his left shoulder. The farce was performed for several nights to
crowded audiences before Mr. Ap Rice felt the keenness of the satire.
At last the joke became so serious, that whenever he went abroad, in
the park, the coffee-house, or the assembly, he heard himself spoken
of as Cadwalader, and pointed at with suppressed laughter, or heard
quotations from his part in the play: "This is Becky, my dear Becky."
Mightily offended, and really hurt, he applied to Foote to have the
piece suppressed. But this Foote would not hear of--it was drawing
crowded houses. Then Ap Rice applied to the Lord Chamberlain and
obtained an injunction to restrain the performance.

Dr. Johnson was informed by a mutual friend that Foote was going to
produce an impersonation of him on the stage. "What is the price of a
cane?" asked the doctor. "Sixpence." "Then," said he, "here is a
shilling; go and fetch me the stoutest you can purchase, and tell Mr.
Foote that at his first performance I shall visit the theatre, go on
the stage, and thrash him soundly."

This was repeated to the mimic, and he deemed it advisable to desist
from _this_ impersonation.

In _A Trip to Calais_ he threatened to ridicule the notorious Duchess of
Kingston unless bought off. The audacity of his personalities was
astounding, where he thought he could use his gift of mimicry without
being subject to chastisement. In the _Orators_, 1762, he personated,
under the name of Peter Paragraph, a noted printer and publisher and
alderman of Dublin, known as One-legged Faulkener. The imitation was
perfect. The Irishman brought an action for libel against him, and a
trial ensued. But Nemesis of another sort fell on him four years later.
In 1766 he was on a visit to Lord Mexborough, where he met the Duke of
York, Lord Delaval, and others, when some of the party, wishing to have
a little fun with Foote, drew him into conversation on horsemanship, and
the comedian boasted "that although he generally preferred the luxury of
a post-chaise, he could ride as well as most men he knew." He was urged
to join that morning in the chase, and was mounted on a high-spirited,
mettlesome horse belonging to the Duke of York, that flung him as soon
as he was in the saddle, and his leg was so fractured that it had to be
amputated, and its place supplied by one of cork.

The Duke of York was not a little concerned at the part he had taken
in this practical joke, and to make what amends he could obtained for
him a royal patent to erect a theatre in the city and liberties of
Westminster, from the 14th May to the 14th September, during the term
of his natural life. This was giving him a fortune at one stroke, and
Foote immediately purchased the old premises in the Haymarket and
erected a new theatre on the same ground, which was opened in the May
following, 1767. He made considerable profits, and lodged twelve
hundred pounds at his banker's and kept five hundred in cash.

But his usual demon of extravagance haunted him. He went to Bath and
fell in with a nest of gamblers, who rapidly swindled him, not only
out of his five hundred, but also out of the sum he had placed with
his banker. Several of the frequenters of the rooms saw that he was
being cheated, and the Right Hon. Richard Rigby, Paymaster of the
Forces, took an opportunity of telling him that he was being
plundered, "that from his careless manner of playing and betting, and
his habit of telling stories when he should be minding his game, he
must in the long run be ruined." Foote, instead of taking this hint in
good part, answered angrily and so insultingly that Rigby withdrew.

When he had money he spent it in play and profligacy. Three fortunes
had been left him, and he threw all away, and adopted as his motto,
"Iterum, iterum, iterumque."

His mother, as has been said, had inherited a large fortune, but she
had squandered it and was locked up in the Fleet Prison for debt.
Thence she wrote to her son:--

    "DEAR SAM,

    "I am in prison for debt; come and assist your loving mother,

                                                      "E. FOOTE."

To this brief note he replied:--


    "So am I; which prevents his duty being paid to his loving mother
    by her affectionate son,

                                                      "SAM. FOOTE."

When bringing out his comedy of _The Minor_ considerable objections were
started to its being licensed, and among other objectors was Secker,
Archbishop of Canterbury. Foote offered to submit the play to him for
revision, with permission to strike out whatever he deemed
objectionable. But the prelate was not to be trapped thus. He knew well
that had he done this, Foote would have advertised its performance "as
altered and amended by his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury."

Having made a trip to Ireland, he was asked on his return what
impression was made on him by the Irish peasantry, and replied that
they gave him great satisfaction, as they settled a question that had
long agitated his mind, and that was, what became of the cast clothes
of English beggars.

One evening at the coffee-house he was asked if he had attended the
funeral of a very intimate friend, the son of a baker. "Oh yes,
certainly," said he; "just seen him shoved into the family oven."

Although he had on more than one occasion applied to Garrick for loans
of a few hundred pounds, this did not deter him from mimicking
Garrick, and when the Shakespeare Jubilee took place at
Stratford-on-Avon, under the superintendence of this latter, Foote was
so jealous and envious of its success, that he schemed bringing out a
mock procession in imitation of it, with a man dressed to resemble
Garrick in the character of the Steward of the Jubilee, with his wand,
white-topped gloves, and Shakespeare medal; whilst some ragamuffin was
to address him in the lines of the Jubilee poet-laureate--

          A nation's taste depends on you,
          Perhaps a nation's virtue too;

to which the mimic Garrick was to reply by clapping his arms, like the
wings of a cock, and crowing--


It was with difficulty that Foote could be deterred from carrying his
scheme into effect.

But, indeed, he spared no one. He had been separated practically, though
not legally, from his wife, whom to his friends and acquaintances he
spoke of as "the Washerwoman." She was a quiet, inoffensive, worthy
woman; and his friends induced him after a while to allow her to return
to his house. As it chanced, her conveyance was upset on the way, and
she was thrown out and much cut and bruised in her face and person.
Instead of sympathizing with her, he turned the matter into joke with
his boon companions, and said, "If you want to see a map of the world,
go and look at my wife's face. There is the Black Sea in her eye, the
Red Sea in her gashes, and the Yellow Sea in all her bruises."

Dining once with Earl Kelly at his house at North End in the early part
of the spring, his lordship, who was a _bon vivant_ and had a very red
face, apologized during dinner that he was unable to give the party
cucumbers that day, as none were ripe. "Your own fault, my lord," said
Foote. "Why didn't you thrust your nose into the hot-house?"

On another occasion, Foote calling on the elder Colman, the dramatist,
heard him complain of want of sleep. "Read one of your own plays,"
said Foote.

Dining one day with Lord Stormont, he noticed the diminutive size of
the decanters and glasses. His lordship boasted of the age of his
wine. "Dear me," said Foote. "It is very little, considering its age."

A young parson was on his honeymoon. "I'll give you a text for your
next sermon," said Foote: "Grant us thy peace so long as the moon

Some one asked Dr. Johnson whether he did not think that Foote had a
singular talent for exhibiting character. "No, sir," replied the
doctor. "It is not a talent, it is a vice. It is what others abstain
from. His imitations are not like. He gives you something different
from himself, without going into other people. He is like a painter
who can draw the portrait of a man who has a wen on his face. He can
give you the wen, but not the man."

In _The Mayor of Garratt_ Foote took off and held up to derision the
old Duke of Newcastle, under the name of Matthew Mug. Of the Duke he
was wont to say that he always appeared as if he had lost an hour in
the morning and was looking for it all day. In _The Patron_ he
satirized Lord Melcombe, but indeed there were few with any
peculiarity of manner or taste or appearance, whom he was able to
study, whom he did not hold up to public ridicule.

The first time that George II attended the Haymarket _The Mayor of
Garratt_ was on the stage. When His Majesty arrived at the theatre,
Foote, as manager, hobbled to the stage door to receive him; but, as
he played in the first piece, instead of wearing the court dress usual
on these occasions, he was equipped in the immense cocked hat,
cumbrous boots, and all the other military paraphernalia of Major
Sturgeon. The moment the King cast his eyes on this extraordinary
figure, as he stood bowing, stumping, and wriggling with his wooden
leg, George II receded in astonishment, exclaiming to his attendants,
"Look! Vat is dat man--and to vat regiment does he belong?" Even
Samuel's not very bright brother came in for his sneers. Edward Foote
was fond of hanging about the theatre, and frequented the green-room.
Some one asked Samuel who that man was. "He?" replied Foote. "He's my
barber." Somewhat later the relationship came out, and the same person
remarked to him on his having spoken so contemptuously of Edward.
"Why," said Samuel, "I could not in conscience say he was a
brother-wit, so I set him down as a brother-shaver."

Retribution came on him at last.

The reason why Foote did not produce his "take-off" of the Duchess of
Kingston as Lady Kitty Crocodile has never transpired. According to one
account, he had threatened to caricature her in the hopes of levying
blackmail on her to stop the production; according to another, he
received threats that made him fear for his life, or at least a public
horse-whipping, if he proceeded, and he altered the character. But he
was very angry, and to be revenged he produced a piece, _The Capuchin_,
which was the original _Trip to Calais_ altered, but his satire was
transferred from the Duchess to her chaplain, named Jackson, whom he
held up to public scorn as Doctor Viper.

Jackson was furious, and trumped up a vile charge against Foote, by
the aid of a coachman whom the actor had discharged from his service
for misconduct. Foote had made so many enemies that those whom he had
wounded and mortified found the money for a prosecution; and the case
was tried at King's Bench before Lord Mansfield and a special jury.
But it broke down completely, and Foote was acquitted.

As soon as the trial was over, his fellow dramatist Murphy took a
coach and drove to Foote's house in Suffolk Street, Charing Cross, to
be the first messenger of the good tidings.

Foote had been looking out of the window in anxious expectation of
such a message. Murphy, as soon as he perceived him, waved his hat in
token of victory, and jumping out of the coach, ran upstairs, to find
Foote extended on the floor, in hysterics. In this condition he
continued for nearly an hour before he could be recovered to any kind
of recollection of himself.

The charge, and the anxiety of the trial, broke his heart; he never
thoroughly rallied after it, and sold his patent in the Haymarket
Theatre to George Colman on January 16th, 1777. By the terms of this
agreement Colman obliged himself to pay Foote an annuity of sixteen
hundred pounds.

Having in some degree recovered his health, he was advised by his
physician to try the south of France during the winter; and with this
intent he reached Dover on the 20th October, 1777, on his way to Calais.

Whilst at Dover, he went into the kitchen of the inn to order a
particular dish for dinner, and the cook, understanding that he was
about to embark for France, began to brag of her powers, and defy him to
find any better _cuisine_ abroad, though, for her part, she said, she
had never crossed the water. "Why cookey," said Foote, "that cannot be,
for above stairs they informed me you have been several times _all over
grease_ (Greece)." "They may say what they like," retorted she, "but I
was never ten miles from Dover in all my life." "Nay, now," said Foote,
"that must be a fib, for I myself have seen you at _Spit-head_."

This was his last joke. Next morning he was seized with a shivering fit
whilst at breakfast, which increasing, he was put to bed. Another fit
succeeded that lasted three hours. He then seemed inclined to sleep, and
presently with a deep sigh expired on October 21st, 1777, in the
fifty-seventh year of his age. He was buried in Westminster Abbey.

The authors of the _Biographica Dramatica_ say of his farces "Mr.
Foote's dramatic works are all to be ranked among the _petites pièces_
of the theatre, as he never attempted anything which attained the bulk
of the more perfect drama. In the execution of them they are sometimes
loose, negligent, and unfinished, seeming rather to be the hasty
productions of a man of genius, whose Pegasus, though endued with fire,
has no inclination for fatigue, than the laboured finishings of a
professed dramatist aiming at immortality. His plots are somewhat
irregular, and their catastrophes not always conclusive or perfectly
wound up. Yet, with all these little deficiencies, it must be confessed
that they contain more of one essential property of comedy, viz. strong
character, than the writings of any other of our modern authors."


[17] Baptized S. Mary's, Truro, Jan. 27th, 1720-1.

                          THE LAST LORD MOHUN

The first of the family of Mohun known to history came over with the
Conqueror from Normandy, and received the name and title of Sapell,
Earl of Somerset. How the earldom lapsed we do not know, but a Mohun
next appears as Baron of Dunster. Apparently, but not certainly, the
earldom was taken from them by Henry III, for siding against him with
the Barons in 1297. A branch of the family settled at Boconnoc early
in the fifteenth century. In the church of Lanteglos by Fowey is a
brass of William Mohun, who died in 1508. Sir Reginald Mohun, Knt.,
was sheriff of Cornwall in 1553 and 1560. He was squire of the body to
Queen Elizabeth, and his son, Sir William Mohun, was sheriff in 1572
and 1578. His son, Sir Reginald, was created baronet in 1612, and his
grandson John was raised to be Baron Mohun of Okehampton in 1628.
Warwick, the second Lord Mohun, died in 1665, leaving a son, Charles,
third Baron, who married Lady Philippa Annesley, daughter of the Earl
of Anglesea, and by her had a son Charles, fourth Baron, and a
daughter Elizabeth, who died unmarried. He acted as second to Lord
Candish in a duel, where he was wounded in the belly and died soon
after; he was buried October 20th, 1677.

Charles, fourth Baron Mohun of Okehampton, was married in the first
place to Charlotte, daughter of Thomas Mainwaring. With her he lived
unhappily and was separated from her, nor would he acknowledge the
daughter born to her as being his own child. He had the good fortune,
however, to be rid of her at last, as she was drowned on a passage to
Ireland with one of her gallants. He married secondly Elizabeth,
daughter of Dr. Thomas Laurence, physician to Queen Anne, and widow of
Colonel Edward Griffith.

[Illustration: _Charles Mohun Lord Mohun._]

Fitton Gerrard, Earl of Macclesfield, maternal uncle of his first
wife, to make him some amends for his bad bargain, left to Lord Mohun
a good part of his estate.

Charles, fourth Baron Mohun, was of a contentious nature, and was
involved in several duels. He fought Lord Kennedy on December 7th, 1692.
On October 7th, 1694, a Mr. Scobell, a Cornish M.P., interfered with
Lord Mohun, who was attempting to kill a coachman in Pall Mall. Mohun,
furious at being interfered with, cut Mr. Scobell over the head, and
afterwards challenged him. He was also engaged in a duel with a Captain
Bingham on April 7th, 1697, when he was wounded in the hand. He was next
engaged in a quarrel with a Captain Hill of the Foot Guards, at the
Rummer Tavern on September 14th, 1697; he managed to kill Hill.

The story of the murder of Mountford the actor by Captain Hill, in
which Lord Mohun was involved as abetter, is given very fully by Sir
Bernard Burke, in his _Romance of the Aristocracy_, 1855, and I will
here condense his account.

Mrs. Bracegirdle was at the time a very charming actress, with a
delicious voice of remarkable flexibility, and her singing of such a
song as Eccles' "The bonny, bonny breeze" brought down the house; but
the mad song, "I burn, my brain consumes to ashes," as sung by her in
the character of Marcella in _Don Quixote_, was considered one of her
masterpieces. Cibber says that all the extravagance and frantic
passion of Lee's _Alexander the Great_ were excusable when Mrs.
Bracegirdle played Statira; that scarcely an audience saw her that
were not half her lovers without a suspected favourite among them. In
an age of general dissoluteness she bore an immaculate reputation, and
the licentious men about town knew perfectly well that she was beyond
the reach of their solicitations. Mrs. Bracegirdle had a friend, "a
miracle of fine acting," Mrs. Mountford, also a performer at the
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and became intimate with her. Some of the
malicious, who could ill believe that an actress was virtuous,
supposed that Mrs. Bracegirdle favoured that lady's husband, who was a
good actor of heroic tragedy.

Among the many admirers of Mrs. Bracegirdle was a Captain Richard
Hill. So infatuated was he with her charms, that he proposed to marry
her; but, when she rejected his offer, he regarded this as an insult,
and supposed that she had been persuaded by Mountford to refuse him.
Hill, in ungovernable wrath, vowed that he would kill the actor who
had dared to tender advice to the beautiful Mrs. Bracegirdle to reject
his offer, and also to carry off his mistress by force.

At a supper, where were Lord Mohun, Captain Hill, Colonel Tredenham,
and a Mr. Powell, Hill spoke openly of his purpose, and turning to
Powell said, "I am resolved to have the blood of Mountford." Powell,
who was a friend to both parties, took alarm at these words, and
replied that he should certainly inform Mountford of the threat and
caution him to be on his guard. Captain Hill then drew off from him,
and approached Lord Mohun, whom he speedily discovered to be ready to
act as his ally.

Along with Mohun, Hill now seriously set about the requisite
preparations for carrying out his purpose, which they agreed should
take place the following night. With this view, their first care was
to order a coach to be in waiting for them at nine o'clock in Drury
Lane, near the theatre; but, so as not to attract particular notice,
with two horses only, while a reserve of four more was to be held in
readiness at the stables, to convey Hill and Mrs. Bracegirdle to
Totteridge. That they expected a serious resistance was apparent, for
they not only provided themselves with pistols, but had bribed a party
of soldiers to assist them in the enterprise.

During the day the confederates dined together at a tavern in Covent
Garden, and talked openly of their intention, before several other
persons who were present. But strangely enough, not a syllable reached
those interested, to give them timely warning. Yet the conversation
was of a nature to excite attention; they discussed the scheme
unreservedly, and Lord Mohun remarked that the affair would cost at
least fifty pounds; to which Hill replied, "If that villain Mountford
resist I will stab him." "And I will stand your friend if you do,"
observed Lord Mohun.

It so happened, however, that Mrs. Bracegirdle did not play that
night, and the confederates learned the fact, as also that she was
supping at the house of a Mr. Page in Princes Street hard by, and
thither, accordingly, they repaired, planting themselves with the
soldiers over against a house occupied by Lord Craven.

Nine o'clock struck, and still no signs of her for whom they were
watching. They began to think that they must have been misinformed and
ordered the coachman to drive to Howard Street, where Mrs. Bracegirdle
lodged, in the house of a Mrs. Browne. Howard Street is a cross-way
leading from Arundel Street, through Norfolk Street, to Surrey Street,
in the former of which lived Mountford, so that it was not possible for
the actor on his return from the theatre to fail coming upon them. Here,
however, they did not remain long, their suspicions having been excited
by the appearance of several individuals pacing up and down in front of
the lady's lodgings, and these they thought must be spies set to watch
their proceedings. They accordingly returned to their former station by
the house of Mr. Page. At ten o'clock the door opened and that gentleman
issued forth along with Mrs. Bracegirdle, her mother and brother, and
volunteered to accompany them home, an offer they declined, as they said
that they needed no further protection; however, he attended them part
of the way. On coming up Drury Lane they were surprised to see a crowd
about a coach drawn up before the house of Lord Craven, with the steps
down. In this Lord Mohun was seated, with several cases of pistols near
him. Before they had time to inquire into the meaning of this, two of
the soldiers rushed forward, forced Mrs. Bracegirdle away from Page, and
would have dragged her to the coach but that her mother clung about her
neck, in spite of some rough handling by the ruffians. Thereupon up ran
Hill, and he struck at both Page and the old lady with his drawn sword;
but some of the crowd looking on interfered so effectually that he found
himself obliged to withdraw. However, he rallied, and pretending that
there was a disturbance and that the lady was in danger and that she
required safe conduct, he so persuaded Mrs. Bracegirdle that he had no
part in the matter that she allowed him to escort her and her mother to
their home, and Lord Mohun and the soldiers followed as though in
pursuit, Hill occasionally facing round as though to dare them to

Upon reaching Howard Street the soldiers were dismissed, as being no
longer required, as it was now deemed impossible to carry out the
original plan of a forcible abduction.

Just as Hill was about to withdraw, he plucked Page by the sleeve, and
intimated to him that he had a desire to speak with him in private;
but that gentleman, who was eager to be back at his own house, replied
hastily that "another time would do; to-morrow would serve."

However, no sooner was Mrs. Bracegirdle safe within the house, than
the others, fearing that evil might befall Page, laid hold of him and
drew him within, and closed the door in the face of Captain Hill.

Instead of having his ardour cooled by his rebuff, the captain became
more wroth, and determined to revenge himself on Mountford; and in
conjunction with Lord Mohun, he continued pacing up and down the
street for two mortal hours with his sword drawn.

Those within the house being greatly alarmed at their proceedings,
sent Mrs. Browne out to inquire the reason of this. To this they
replied, with the utmost frankness, that they were awaiting the
arrival of Mr. Mountford. As evidence that the besiegers had no
intention of withdrawing, they sent for a couple of bottles of wine,
when the watch came up and asked what they were doing in the streets
at such an hour of the night with drawn swords in their hands.

These inquiries were cut short at once by Lord Mohun saying, "I am a
peer of the realm; touch me if you dare!" a reply that so staggered
the watch that they slunk away without further question. They had,
however, observed the waiter who brought the wine and they followed
him to the tavern to draw from him an explanation they did not venture
to demand from a nobleman.

Whilst the besiegers were tipping off their wine, the besieged found
an opportunity for sending a messenger to warn Mrs. Mountford of the
danger threatening her husband and to bid her communicate with him.
Nor was this the only one, a second and perhaps a third were also
despatched to caution him. But unhappily every one of these messengers
failed to reach him, and at midnight he came along the street on his
way homeward without entertaining the least apprehension.

Lord Mohun was the first to meet and salute the unhappy man, when the
latter expressed his surprise at finding his lordship there at such an

"I suppose you have been sent for?" was the curt reply. Mountford
said, No--he was there on his way home from the playhouse.

"You know all about the lady, I imagine," said Lord Mohun.

Mountford not understanding the drift of his words said, "I hope that
my wife has given you no offence."

"You mistake me," said Lord Mohun; "it is Mrs. Bracegirdle that I mean."

"Mrs. Bracegirdle is no concern of mine," replied Mountford; "but I
hope your lordship does not countenance any ill action of Mr. Hill."

The conversation was interrupted by the impatient captain, who
suddenly started forward, and exclaiming, "This is no longer the time
for such discourses!" struck Mountford with his left hand, and
immediately ran him through the body. The wounded man did not fall to
the ground at once; he had still, for a moment, sufficient strength
left to draw his sword, though not to use it, when, exhausted by the
effort, he sank upon the ground.

A cry of murder arose, Hill fled, and the watch came up now from the
tavern where they had been questioning the drawer and imbibing.
Mountford was carried to his own lodgings, where he died, about one
o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, for it was some time after
midnight when the affair took place.

"The grand jury of Middlesex," says Macaulay, "consisting of gentlemen
of note, found a bill of murder against Hill and Mohun. Hill escaped.
Mohun was taken. His mother threw herself at King William's feet, but
in vain. 'It was a cruel act,' said the King. 'I shall leave it to the

"The trial came on in the Court of the Lord High Steward, and, as
Parliament happened to be sitting, the culprit had the advantage of
being judged by the whole body of the peerage. There was then no
lawyer in the Upper House. It therefore became necessary, for the
first time since Buckhurst had pronounced sentence on Essex and
Southampton, that a peer who had never made jurisprudence his special
study should preside over that grave tribunal. Caermarthen, who, as
Lord President, took precedence of all the nobility, was appointed
Lord High Steward. A full report of the proceedings has come down to
us. No person, who carefully examines that report, and attends to the
opinion unanimously given by the judges in answer to a question which
Nottingham drew up, and in which the facts brought out by the evidence
are stated with perfect fairness, can doubt that the crime of murder
was fully brought home to the prisoner. Such was the opinion of the
King, who was present during the trial; and such was the almost
unanimous opinion of the public. Had the issue been tried by Holt and
twelve plain men at the Old Bailey, there can be no doubt that a
verdict of Guilty would have been returned. The Peers, however, by
sixty-nine votes to fourteen, acquitted their accused brother. One
great nobleman was so brutal and stupid as to say, 'After all, the
fellow was but a player; and players are rogues.' All the newspapers,
all the coffee-house orators complained that the blood of the poor was
shed with impunity by the great. Wits remarked that the only fair
thing about the trial was the show of ladies in the galleries. Letters
and journals are still extant in which men of all shades of opinion,
Whigs, Tories, Non-jurors, condemn the partiality of the tribunal."

On the one hand, the words of the dying man exculpated Mohun from any
share in the actual murder; on the other hand, it is clear from the
uncontradicted testimony of more than one witness, that he was fully
cognizant of Hill's intentions, and that he did not hesitate to
encourage him by his presence through the whole affair. According to
the Attorney-General, his first question, when he surrendered himself,
was, "Has Mr. Hill escaped?" and, upon being answered in the
affirmative, he exclaimed, "I am glad of it! I should not care if I
were hanged for him," his only regret being that Hill had escaped with
very little money about him. He confessed, moreover, to the watch,
that he had changed coats with his friend; the object, of course, was
to throw out the pursuers as much as possible by this slight disguise.

This is Lord Mohun's portrait as drawn by a not unfavourable hand:
"Charles, Lord Mohun, is the representative of a very ancient family,
but he had the misfortune to come to the title young, while the estate
was in decay; his quality introduced him into the best company, but his
wants very often led him into bad; so that he became one of the
arrantest rakes in town, and, indeed, a scandal to the peerage; was
generally a sharer in all riots; and before he was twenty years old was
tried twice for murder by the House of Peers. On his being acquitted at
the last trial, he expressed his contrition for the scandal he brought
upon his degree as peer by his behaviour, in very handsome terms, and
promised to behave himself so, for the future, as not to give further
scandal; and he has been as good as his word; for now he applies himself
in good earnest to the knowledge of the constitution of his country, and
to serve it; and having a good deal of fine and good sense, turned this
way, makes him very considerable in the House. He is brave in his
person, bold in his expressions, and rectifies, as fast as he can, the
slips of his youth, by acts of honesty, which he now glories in more
than he was formerly extravagant. He was married, when very young, to a
niece of my Lord Macclesfield, who, dying without issue, left him a
considerable estate,[18] which he well improves. The Queen continues him
colonel of a regiment of foot. He is of middle stature, inclining to
fat, not thirty years old."

However much he may have intended to amend, Lord Mohun was again
involved in a murder, that of a Mr. Coote, a few years later, in
conjunction with the Earl of Warwick; he was, however, pronounced
innocent by the unanimous suffrage of the Peers.

After this last affair only was it that he amended his ways, and the
author of _The History of Queen Anne_, March 11th, London, 1713, gives
a favourable account of him. "After this last misfortune my Lord Mohun
did wonderfully reclaim; and what by his reading, what by his
conversation with the ablest statesmen, so well improved his natural
parts, that he became a great ornament to the peerage and a strenuous
asserter of the cause of Liberty, and the late Revolution: which last,
however, could not but raise him many enemies; and is, I doubt, the
only reason why his memory is so unfairly, so barbarously treated.
'Tis true, my Lord Mohun, like most men in our cold climate, still
lov'd a merry glass of wine with his friends. But in this he was a
happy reverse to some men, who owe all their bright parts in the
management of affairs to the fumes of Burgundy and Champaign: for he
was exemplarily temperate when he had any business of moment to
attend. He behaved himself so discretely at the Court of Hanover,
whither he accompanyed the late Earl of Macclesfield, whose niece he
had married, that he left an excellent character behind him with the
most serene Elector, and the Princess Sophia, his mother, two allow'd
judges of merit; and when his Highness was to be install'd Knight of
the Garter he appointed the Lord Mohun to be his proxy."[19]

Party feeling strongly coloured the descriptions given of the
character of Lord Mohun. He was a Whig and zealous advocate of the
claims of the Elector of Hanover, and was consequently obnoxious to
the Tories and Jacobites. In the _Examiner_ he is represented in the
worst light; and is even accused of cowardice; but Bishop Burnet was
able to say no more of him than this: "I am sorry I cannot say so much
good of him as I wish; and I had too much kindness for him, to say any
evil unnecessarily."

In 1711 the attention of the legislature was drawn to the subject of
duels by Sir Peter King; and after dwelling on the alarming increase
of the practice, obtained leave to bring in a Bill for the prevention
and punishment of duelling. It was read a first time on May 11th, and
was ordered for a second reading in the ensuing week.

About the same time the attention of the Upper House was also drawn
to the subject in a painful manner. In a debate in the Lords upon the
conduct of the Duke of Ormond in refusing to hazard a general
engagement with the enemy, Earl Pawlet remarked that nobody could
doubt the courage of the Duke. "He was not like a certain general, who
led troops to the slaughter, to cause great numbers of officers to be
knocked on the head in a battle, or against stone walls, in order to
fill his pockets by disposing of their commissions."

That this was levelled at the Duke of Marlborough no one doubted, but he
remained silent, though evidently suffering in mind. Soon after the
House broke up, the Earl Pawlet received a visit from Lord Mohun, who
told him that the Duke of Marlborough desired some explanation of the
words he had used, as certain expressions employed by his lordship were
greatly offensive to him. He would accordingly be very glad to meet him,
and for that purpose desired him "to take a little air in the country."

Earl Pawlet did not affect to misunderstand the hint, but asked Lord
Mohun in plain terms whether he brought a challenge from the Duke.
Lord Mohun answered that he considered what he had said needed no
elucidation, and that he himself would accompany the Duke of
Marlborough as second.

He then took his leave, and Earl Pawlet returned home and confided to
his lady that he was going to fight a duel with the Duke of Marlborough.
The Countess, greatly alarmed for her lord's safety, gave notice of his
intention to the Earl of Dartmouth, who immediately, in the Queen's
name, sent for the Duke of Marlborough and commanded him not to stir
abroad. He also caused Earl Pawlet's house to be guarded by two
sentinels; and having taken these precautions, informed the Queen of
the whole affair. Her Majesty sent at once for the Duke, expressed her
abhorrence of the custom of duelling, and required his word of honour
that he would proceed no further. The Duke pledged his word accordingly,
and the affair terminated, much, doubtless, to the disappointment of
Lord Mohun, who took a delight in these passages of arms.

We come now to the last duel of Lord Mohun, in which he lost his life
and his title expired. The reader will recall the description given of
it in _Esmond_.

The Duke of Hamilton, a shuffling Jacobite, had been in constant
correspondence with the Court of S. Germain's, and with the numerous
agents of the Pretender kept scattered about in various parts of the
Continent and in England. Even before Mrs. Masham and Harley had
undermined the Whig ministry, Hamilton had been an acceptable visitor
at the Court of S. James's; but since the Tory party had got the upper
hand, he had been closeted far more frequently with the Queen than
before; and now he was appointed to represent Queen Anne at the French
Court. Burnet says: "The Duke of Hamilton being now appointed to go to
the Court of France gave melancholy speculation to those who thought
him much in the Pretender's interest; he was considered, not only in
Scotland, but here in England, as the head of his party." A few days
before he left for Versailles, his career was cut short. He had been
engaged in some law-suits with Lord Mohun over the succession to the
estates of the Earl of Macclesfield, and this, together with political
animosity, inflamed both these noblemen with deadly hatred towards
each other. Mohun took an occasion that offered of publicly insulting
the Duke, in the hope of making him the challenger. His Grace,
however, had too much contempt for the known character of the man to
enter into an idle dispute with him, especially at a time when he was
invested with the sacred character of ambassador. He relied on his own
reputation with the world to bear him out in declining to notice such
an affront, offered at such a time, and committed, as the Tories
asserted, under the influence of drink.

The circumstances of the insult were these. On Thursday, November 13th,
a party was assembled at the chambers of Mr. Orlebar, a master in
Chancery, when the Duke made some reflections on Mr. Whitworth, father
of the Queen's late ambassador to the Czar; whereat Lord Mohun roared
out that the Duke had neither truth nor justice in him. "Indeed, he has
just as much truth in him as your Grace!" The Duke of Hamilton made no
reply; and both parties remained at the table for half an hour after
this outbreak; and at parting Hamilton made a low bow to Mohun, who
returned the civility, so that none of those there present suspected any
consequence from what had passed between the two peers.

But Lord Mohun had determined to fight his private and political
adversary, and although he was the offender he next day sent a
challenge to the Duke by the hand of a friend, General Maccartney. In
the evening of the 14th the Duke, accompanied by Colonel John
Hamilton, went to meet General Maccartney at the Rose Tavern, in one
room, whilst in the adjoining Lord Mohun awaited Colonel Hamilton.
Then and there the time and place of the duel were agreed upon. On
Sunday morning, November 15th, at seven o'clock, Lord Mohun with his
second, General Maccartney, went in a hackney-coach to the lodge of
Hyde Park, where they alighted, and were soon after met by the Duke
of Hamilton and his second, Colonel Hamilton. They all jumped over a
ditch into a place called the Nursery. It is said that Lord Mohun did
not wish that the seconds should bear a part in the engagement, but
the Duke insisted, saying that "Mr. Maccartney should have a share in
the dance." But the spirit of party so completely seized hold of the
subject as to make it difficult to ascertain what were the real facts.

It is said on one side that the Duke was from the first very unwilling
to fight, and even at the last moment would have consented to a
reconciliation. According to the evidence given by Colonel Hamilton at
the inquiry on November 25th, early in the morning of the 15th, before
he was half dressed, the Duke called at his house and hurried him into
his chariot "so soon that he finished the buttoning of his waistcoat
there. By the time they had got into Pall Mall the Duke observed that
the Colonel had left his sword behind him; whereupon he stopt his
chariot and gave the footman a bunch of keys and orders to fetch a
mourning sword out of such a closet. At the return of the footman they
drove on to Hyde Park, where the coachman stopt, and the Duke ordered
him to drive on to Kensington. When they came to the lodge they saw a
hackney-coach at a distance, on which his Grace said, 'There was some
body he must speak with'; but driving up to it and seeing nobody he
asked the coachman, 'Where the gentlemen were whom he had brought?' he
answered 'A little before.' The Duke and the Colonel got out in the
bottom and walked over the pond's head, where they saw the Lord Mohun
and General Maccartney before them. As soon as the Duke came within
hearing he said, 'He hop'd he was come time enough,' and Maccartney
answered, 'In very good time, my Lord.' After this they all jumped over
the ditch into the Nursery, and the Duke turned to Maccartney and
told him, 'Sir, you are the cause of this, let the event be what it
will.' Maccartney said, 'We'll have our share.' Then the Duke answered,
'There is my friend then, he will take his share in my dance.'"


_From a contemporary mezzotint in the British Museum_]

The Duke is said to have looked about him and remarked to his second,
"How grey and cold London looks this morning, and yet the sky is
almost cloudless." To which the Colonel replied, "It is through lack
of London smoke. London is nothing without its smoke."

The combat then commenced between the principals, and at a little
distance from them between the seconds.

The combat between the former was carried on with fury, and the clash of
steel called to the spot the keepers of the Park and a few stragglers
who were abroad there at this early hour--in all about nine or ten. None
of them interfered; they looked on as they might at a cock-fight.

In a short time the Duke was wounded in both legs, and his sword pierced
his antagonist through the groin, through the arm, and in sundry other
parts of the body. If they had thought little enough before of attending
to self-defence, they now seemed to abandon the idea altogether. Each at
the same moment made a desperate lunge at the other; and the Duke's
weapon passed right through his adversary's body up to the hilt. The
latter, according to one account, shortening his sword, plunged it into
the upper part of the Duke's left breast, the blade running downwards
into his belly. But there is another version of the story.

Meanwhile the seconds had been engaged, and Colonel Hamilton deposed:
"Maccartney had made a full pass at him, which he, parrying down with
great force, wounded himself in the instep; however, he took that
opportunity to close with and disarm Maccartney, which being done, he
turn'd his head, and seeing my Lord Mohun fall, and the Duke upon him,
he ran to the Duke's assistance; and that he might with the more ease
help him, he flung down both swords; and as he was raising my Lord Duke
up, he saw Maccartney make a push at his Grace"--this was explained to
be over his shoulder--and "he immediately look'd to see if he had
wounded him; but seeing no blood, he took up his sword, expecting
Maccartney would attack him again; but he walked off. Just as he was
gone came up the keepers and others, to the number of nine or ten, among
the rest Ferguson, my Lord Duke's steward, who had brought Bassiere's
man with him; who opening his Grace's breast, soon discovered a wound on
the left side, which came in between the left shoulder and pap, and went
slantingly down through the midriff into his belly. This wound is
thought impracticable for my Lord Mohun to give him."

Maccartney now took to his heels and fled, and tarried not till he was
secure in Holland.

Colonel Hamilton remained on the field, and surrendered himself to

An attempt was made to remove the Duke to the Cake House, but he
expired on the grass. Lord Mohun also died on the spot.

In _The Examiner_, the Tory mouthpiece, the story is thus given: "The
affront was wholly given by Mohun, which the Duke, knowing him to be
drunk, did not resent. But the bravo Maccartney, who depended for his
support on the Lord Mohun, finding his pupil's reputation very much
blasted by those tame submissions, which his Lordship, mistaking his
man, had lately paid to Mr. D'Avenant, judg'd there was no way to set
him right in the coffee houses and the Kit-Cat but by a new quarrel,
and made choice of the Duke, a person of fifty-five, and very much
weaken'd by frequent attacks of gout. Maccartney was forc'd to keep up
his patron's courage with wine, till within a few hours of their
meeting in the field. And the mortal wound which the Duke receiv'd,
after his adversary was run thro' the heart, as it is probably
conjectured, could not be given by any but Maccartney. At least,
nothing can be charged on him which his character is not able to bear.
'Tis known enough, that he made an offer to the late King to murder a
certain person who was under his Majesty's displeasure; but that
Prince disdain'd the motion, and abhorred the proposer ever after.
However it be, the general opinion is that some very black
circumstances will appear in this tragedy, if a strict examination be
made; neither is it easy to account for three great wounds in the
Duke's legs, if he had fair play."

The sum of £800 was offered by the Government for the apprehension of

Such would seem to be the facts, but the Colonel's statement, when
brought before the Council, was somewhat rambling. In the excitement
of the encounter he was not in a condition to judge accurately what
took place. Cunningham, a Whig, says that Hamilton, "being challenged
to a duel by the Lord Mohun, killed his antagonist; but was himself
also killed, as was supposed, by General Maccartney, Mohun's second."
Although the large sum mentioned was offered for the apprehension of
the General, he was safe in the Low Countries. However, some years
later he returned to England and was tried, but the jury gave a
verdict of "Manslaughter" against him.

A prodigious ferment was occasioned by the duel, and party
recriminations ran high. The stabbing of the Duke to the heart rested
mainly on the allegation of Colonel Hamilton, but at the trial he
prevaricated, and several persons who had seen the combat at a
distance directly contradicted some material points of his testimony.

Swift, in a letter to Mrs. Dingley on the day of the duel, says: "This
morning, at eight, my man brought me word that the Duke Hamilton had
fought with Lord Mohun and killed him, and was brought home wounded. I
immediately sent him to the Duke's house, in S. James's Square; but
the porter could hardly answer him for tears, and a great rabble was
about the house. In short, they fought at seven this morning. The dog
Mohun was killed on the spot; but while the Duke was over him, Mohun,
shortening his sword, stabbed him in at the shoulder to the heart. The
Duke was helped towards the Cake House by the Ring in Hyde Park (where
they fought), and died on the grass, before he could reach the house;
and was brought home in his coach by eight, while the poor Duchess was
asleep. I am told that a footman of Lord Mohun's stabbed Duke
Hamilton; and some say, Maccartney did so too. Mohun gave the affront,
and yet sent the challenge. I am infinitely concerned for the poor
Duke, who was a frank, honest, good-natured man. I loved him very
well; and I think he loved me better.... They have removed the poor
Duchess to a lodging in the neighbourhood, where I have been with her
two hours, and am just come away. I never saw so melancholy a scene,
for indeed all reasons of real grief belong to her; nor is it possible
for any one to be a greater loser in all regards. She has moved my
very soul. The lodging was inconvenient; and they would have removed
her to another; but I would not suffer it, because it had no room
backwards, and she must have been tortured with the noise of the Grub
Street screamers, singing her husband's murder in her ears."

But in his _History of the Four Last Years of the Queen_, written in
1713, Swift says: "The Duke was preparing for his journey, when he was
challenged to a duel by the Lord Mohun, a person of infamous
character. He killed his adversary on the spot, though he himself
received a wound; and, weakened by the loss of blood, as he was
leaning in the arms of his second, was most barbarously stabbed in the
breast by Lieutenant-General Maccartney. He died a few minutes after
in the field, and the murderer made his escape."

It is accordingly very doubtful whether the _coup de grâce_ was dealt
by Lord Mohun or by his second. With Lord Mohun, the barony of Mohun
of Okehampton became extinct; but the estate of Gawsworth, in
Cheshire, which he had inherited from Lord Macclesfield, was vested by
his will in his widow, and eventually passed to her second daughter by
her first husband, Anne Griffith, wife of the Right Honourable William
Stanhope, from whom it passed to the Earls of Harrington.

Boconnoc and the Devon and Cornish estates were sold in 1717 for
£54,000 to Thomas Pitt, commonly called Governor Pitt.


[18] The earl died on November 5th, 1701.

[19] _History of the Reign of Queen Anne_, Vol. XII, pp. 305-6 (1713).

                        THE LAST LORD CAMELFORD

Thomas Pitt was the son of a tradesman at Brentford, and he went to push
his fortunes in India as a merchant adventurer. There he obtained a
diamond, thought to be the finest known, and with it returned to
England, where he offered it for sale to Queen Anne, and ultimately sold
it to the Regent Duke of Orleans, for the French nation, for £135,000.

The Regent and his two successors in the government of France set this
diamond as an ornament in their hats on occasions of state. It was
stolen during the disturbances of the Revolution, but was recovered,
and Napoleon had it placed between the teeth of a crocodile, forming
the handle of his sword.

With about half the large sum obtained by the sale of the gem, Pitt
purchased the property of the last Lord Mohun in Cornwall, and settled
at Boconnoc. He also bought burgess tenures, giving the right of
franchise at Old Sarum, and represented that place in Parliament. He
had two sons, Robert and Thomas, and Robert succeeded his father at
Boconnoc. He married Harriet Villiers, third sister of John, Earl
Grandison, and died in May, 1727, leaving two sons, Thomas Pitt, and
William, who was afterwards created Earl of Chatham. Thomas Pitt, his
brother, was created Earl of Londonderry, in consequence of his
marrying the heiress of Ridgeway, in which family was the earldom.

Thomas Pitt, the eldest son of Robert, engaged in political intrigue,
and supported the party of Frederick, Prince of Wales. He married
Christiana, sister of George, first Lord Lyttleton, by whom he had one
son, Thomas, who was created Baron Camelford in 1784, when his first
cousin William Pitt rose to be Prime Minister. Thomas Pitt was aged
twenty-five when he became Baron Camelford, and he died in January,
1793, leaving a son, Thomas Pitt, the second and last Lord Camelford,
and a daughter, married to William Wyndham, Lord Grenville. Thomas
Pitt, son of the first baron, became an object of attention in
Cornwall almost from his birth.

On the event of his christening, in 1775, Boconnoc was thrown open to
the public, with general feasting and revelries and wrestling. A
silver bowl worth fifteen guineas was the prize of the best wrestler,
and about fifty pounds were distributed among the disappointed and
defeated competitors.

The education of Thomas Pitt was conducted at Boconnoc under a private
tutor, but having paid a visit to Plymouth at a time when naval
preparations were in full activity, he acquired a desire to go to sea.
However, he was sent to Berne to learn French and German, and then to
the Charter House. As he still manifested a strong desire for the sea,
he was admitted to the Royal Navy as a midshipman, at the age of
fourteen; and he sailed in the _Guardian_ frigate, commanded by Captain
Riou, laden with stores for the colony of convicts at Botany Bay. The
vessel became a wreck, and the commander gave permission to such of the
crew as chose to avail themselves of it to take to the boats and leave
her. But Lord Camelford, together with about ninety, resolved on abiding
with the vessel, with the captain, patching her up and navigating her.

After a perilous passage in the vessel to the Cape of Good Hope, Lord
Camelford, in September, 1790, arrived at Harwich in the _Prince of
Orange_ packet.

Undaunted by the privations and hardships he had undergone, he
solicited an appointment on the voyage of discovery conducted by
Captain Vancouver. He accompanied that officer, in the ship
_Discovery_, during part of his circumnavigation, but proved so
troublesome, headstrong, and disobedient to orders as to put Captain
Vancouver under the necessity of placing him under arrest.

He accordingly quitted the _Discovery_ in the Indian Seas, and entered
on board the _Resistance_, commanded by Sir Edward Pakenham, by whom
he was appointed lieutenant.

During his absence at sea his father had died, and when he returned to
England it was to succeed to the title and family estates. In October,
1796, he sent a challenge to Captain Vancouver, who replied with
dignity that he had acted according to his duty, to check
insubordination and to preserve discipline. He was, however, perfectly
willing to submit his conduct to the judgment of any flag officer in
His Majesty's Navy, and if the latter considered that he had
overstepped the bounds of what was right, then he would be prepared to
give Lord Camelford the satisfaction he desired. But this proposal did
not at all meet Lord Camelford's views, and he wrote threatening the
captain with personal chastisement. Shortly after, encountering him in
Bond Street, he would have struck him had not his brother interfered.

Having attained the rank of master and commander, Lord Camelford was
nominated to the command of the _Favourite_, a sloop. That vessel and
the _Perdrix_ were lying in harbour at Antigua on January 13th, 1790,
when Captain Fahil, of the _Perdrix_, was absent on shore, and had
left the charge of the ship to the first lieutenant, Mr. Peterson.

Lord Camelford then issued an order which Mr. Peterson refused to
obey, conceiving that his lordship was exceeding his authority in
giving a command to the representative of a senior officer.

The two ships were hauled alongside of each other in the dockyard to
be repaired, and the companies of each vessel collected round their
respective officers on the quay. High words ensued. Then twelve of the
crew of the _Perdrix_ arrived on the spot, armed. Mr. Peterson drew
them up in line, and placed himself at their head, with his sword
brandished in his hand. Lord Camelford at once called out his marines,
and, rushing off, borrowed a pistol from an officer of the dockyard,
and returning, in a threatening voice, asked Mr. Peterson if he still
refused obedience. "I do persist," replied the lieutenant. "You have
no right to issue the order." Thereupon Lord Camelford shot him
through the head, and he expired instantly. Lord Camelford at once
surrendered himself to Captain Watson, of the _Beaver_, sloop. In this
vessel Lord Camelford was conveyed to Fort Royal, Martinique, where a
court-martial assembled on board the _Invincible_. The court continued
to sit from the 20th to the 25th January, when they came to the
decision "that the very extraordinary and manifest disobedience of
Lieutenant Peterson to the lawful commands of Lord Camelford, the
senior officer at English Harbour at that time, and the violent
measures taken by Lieutenant Peterson to resist the same, by arming
the _Perdrix's_ ship's company, were acts of mutiny highly injurious
to his Majesty's service; the Court do therefore unanimously adjudge
that the said Lord Camelford be honourably acquitted, and he is
hereby unanimously and honourably acquitted accordingly."

After this his lordship reassumed the command of his ship, but for a
short while only, for he threw up his appointment and quitted the
naval profession. His personal appearance while in the service was
marked with eccentricity. His dress consisted of a lieutenant's plain
coat, without shoulder knots, and the buttons green with verdigris.
His head was closely shaved, and he wore no wig over it, only an
enormous gold-laced cocked hat.

Not long after his return to England, a crazy notion entered the head
of Lord Camelford, that he would go to Paris and assassinate some, if
not all, of the Directory. Accordingly, on the night of Friday, 18th
January, 1799, he proceeded by coach to Dover, where he arrived on the
following morning, and put up at the City of London Inn. After
breakfast he walked on the pier, and engaged a boat to convey him to
Deal. He came to terms with a boatman named Adams, and then confided
to him that he desired to be conveyed not to Deal but to Calais, where
he purposed disposing of some watches and other trinkets, and finally
bargained with him to be put across for twelve guineas. But his
lordship's conduct and manner of speech were so odd, that Adams deemed
it advisable to speak of the matter to Mr. Newport, the collector.
Newport advised that Adams and his brother should keep the
appointment, which was for six o'clock that evening, when he would be
there and investigate the affair. Accordingly, when Lord Camelford
entered the boat, he was arrested, and required to go with Newport to
the Secretary of State's office in London. They found on him, when
taken, a brace of pistols and a long, two-edged dagger. On Saturday,
the 18th January, at eleven at night, he was put in a post-chaise,
and escorted by Newport and the two Adamses to the Duke of Portland's
office, where he was recognized. A Privy Council was at once summoned,
and Mr. Pitt despatched a messenger to Lord Camelford's
brother-in-law, Lord Grenville, to come at once to town. His lordship
was examined along with Newport and the two Adamses, and the Council,
satisfied that he was crazy, discharged him.

Not long after this, he brought notice upon himself in another sort of
matter. On the night of the 2nd April, 1799, during the representation
of the farce _The Devil to Pay_, at Drury Lane Theatre, a riot took
place in the box-lobby, occasioned by the entrance of some gentlemen
in a state of intoxication, who began to demolish the chandeliers,
when Lord Camelford, as one of the ringleaders, was taken into
custody, charged by a Mr. Humphries with having knocked him down
repeatedly and nearly beaten out one of his eyes. For this he was sued
at the Court of King's Bench, and was condemned to pay £500.

In town Lord Camelford was incessantly embroiled with the watchmen,
and was either had up before the magistrates, or else obliged to bribe
the constables to let him off. He was a terror and a nuisance to quiet
citizens passing through the streets at night.

In 1801, when the return of peace was celebrated by a general
illumination, no persuasions of his landlord, a grocer in New Bond
Street, could induce him to have lights placed in the windows of his

Consequently the mob assailed the house and smashed every pane of
glass in his windows. Whereupon his lordship sallied forth, armed with
a cudgel, and fell on the rabble, and was severely mauled by it,
rolled in the kennel, much beaten, and his clothes torn off his back.
As the illuminations were to be continued on succeeding nights, he
hired a party of sailors to defend his house.

One evening he entered a coffee-house in Conduit Street in shabby
costume, and sat down to peruse the paper. Shortly after a buck of the
first water came up, threw himself into the box opposite, and shouted
to the waiter to bring him a pint of Madeira and a couple of wax
candles. Till these arrived he coolly took to himself Lord Camelford's
candle, set himself to read.

Lord Camelford shouted to the waiter to fetch him a pair of snuffers,
and then walking into the fop's box extinguished his candle.

Boiling with rage, the indignant beau roared out, "Waiter! waiter! who
the deuce is that fellow who has insulted me?"

The waiter, coming up with the pint of Madeira and the desired
candles, replied, "Lord Camelford, sir."

"Lord Camelford!" shouted the dandy, jumped up, threw down his money,
and bolted without having tasted his Madeira.

For some time Lord Camelford had been acquainted with a Mrs. Simmons,
who had formerly lived under the protection of a Mr. Best, a friend of
his lordship. Some mutual acquaintance told him that Best had said
something slighting of him to this woman. This so exasperated Lord
Camelford that on March 6th, 1804, meeting Mr. Best in the Prince of
Wales's Coffee-house, he went up to him and said in threatening tones:
"I find, sir, that you have spoken of me in most unwarrantable terms."
Mr. Best replied that he was quite unconscious of having done so. Lord
Camelford, then speaking loud enough for every one present to hear,
declared that he knew well enough what Best had said to Mrs. Simmons,
and that he esteemed him, Best, to be "a scoundrel, a liar, and a

Best could do no other than send him a challenge, but with it an
assurance that his lordship had been misinformed, as no such words had
ever passed his lips. He expected, accordingly, that Lord Camelford
would acknowledge his mistake, and then all would be as before. But
Lord Camelford would listen to no explanation, and a meeting was
appointed to take place the following morning.

Lord Camelford went to his lodgings in Bond Street, and there wrote
his will, and added to it the following declaration: "There are many
other matters, which at another time I might be inclined to mention,
but I will say nothing more at present than that in the present
contest I am fully and entirely the aggressor, as well in the spirit
as in the letter of the word. Should I, therefore, lose my life in a
contest of my own seeking, I most solemnly forbid any of my friends or
relations, let them be of whatsoever description they may, from
instituting any vexatious proceedings against my antagonist; and
should, notwithstanding the above declaration on my part, the laws of
the land be put in force against him, I desire that this part of my
will may be made known to the King, in order that his royal heart may
be moved to extend his mercy towards him."

From this it would appear that Lord Camelford was convinced that he
had made a mistake, and no longer believed that Best had used the
expressions attributed to him. At the same time he was too proud to
admit that he had been mistaken, and submit to make a public apology.

His lordship quitted his lodgings between one and two on the morning
of Wednesday, the 7th March, and slept at a tavern, with a view to
avoid the officers of the police, should they get wind of the proposed
meeting and prevent it.

Agreeably to the appointment made by the seconds, Lord Camelford and
Mr. Best met early in the morning at a coffee-house in Oxford Street,
and here again Mr. Best made an attempt at a reconciliation, and
renewed the assurance that he never had uttered the words reported to
have been said by him. "Camelford," said he, "we have been friends,
and I know the unsuspecting generosity of your nature. Upon my honour,
you have been imposed upon by a strumpet. Do not insist on prosecuting
a quarrel in which one of us must fall."

To this Lord Camelford replied, "Best, this is child's play! the thing
must go on."

Mr. Best was esteemed the best shot in England, and his lordship
dreaded, should he retract the offensive words used by himself at the
coffee-house, that malicious folk might say he did it out of fear.
Accordingly his lordship and Mr. Best, on horseback, took the road to
Kensington, followed by a post-chaise, in which were the two seconds.
On their arrival at the "Horse and Groom," about a quarter to eight,
the parties dismounted, and proceeded along the path leading to the
fields behind Holland House. The seconds measured the ground, and they
took their station at the distance of thirty paces. Lord Camelford
fired first, but missed his aim. A space of some seconds intervened,
and then Best fired; whereupon Lord Camelford fell.

The seconds, together with Mr. Best, at once ran to his assistance,
when he is said to have grasped the hand of his antagonist, and to
have said, "Best, I am a dead man; you have killed me, but I freely
forgive you."

The report of the pistols had attracted attention, and several persons
were seen running up, whereupon Best and his second got into the
post-chaise and drove off at a gallop.

One of Lord Holland's gardeners now approached, and Lord Camelford's
second ran to summon a surgeon, Mr. Thompson, of Kensington, and bring
him to the spot.

Meanwhile the gardener hallooed to his fellows to stop the
post-chaise; but the dying man interposed, saying "that he did not
wish them to be arrested; he was himself the aggressor, and he forgave
the gentleman as he trusted that God would forgive him."

Meanwhile a sedan-chair was procured, and his lordship was conveyed to
Little Holland House, the residence of a Mr. Ottey, and a messenger
was despatched to the Rev. W. Cockburne, Lord Camelford's cousin, to
inform him as to what had taken place. That gentleman at once
communicated with the police, and then hurried to his noble relative.
By this time others had arrived, Mr. Knight, the domestic surgeon of
his lordship, and his most intimate friend, Captain Barrie. The wound
was examined, and was pronounced to be mortal.

Lord Camelford continued in agonies of pain during the whole day, when
laudanum was administered, and he was able to obtain some sleep during
the night, so that in the morning he felt easier.

During the second day his spirits revived, and he conversed with those
about his bed. The surgeons, however, could not give the smallest hope
of recovery. To the Rev. W. Cockburne, who remained with him till he
expired, his lordship expressed his confidence in the mercy of God;
and he said that he received much comfort from the reflection that he
felt no ill-will against any man. In the moments of his greatest pain
he cried out that he trusted the sufferings he endured might be
accepted as some expiation for the crimes of his life.

He lingered, free from acute pain, from Thursday till Saturday
evening, about half-past eight, when mortification set in and he
breathed his last.

On the evening of his decease an inquest was held on the body, and a
verdict of wilful murder returned against "some person or persons

Thereupon a bill of indictment was preferred against Mr. Best and his
second, but this was ignored by the grand jury.

As Thomas, the second Baron Camelford, died without issue, Boconnoc
passed to his sister, Lady Grenville.

A life of Lord Camelford, with portrait, was published in London
(Mace, New Russell Court, Strand), 1804.

The Rev. W. Cockburne also wrote _An Authentic Account of the late
Unfortunate Death of Lord Camelford_, London (J. Hatchard), 1804. As
in this he animadverted on the negligence of the magistrates in not
preventing the duel, Mr. Cockburne was answered by one of them, Philip
New, in _A Letter to the Rev. Wm. Cockburne_, London (J. Ginger,
Piccadilly), 1804.

                              WILLIAM NOYE

Cornwall has no great cause to boast of William Noye as her son. He
was undoubtedly a shrewd, subtle, and learned lawyer; but he was
wholly without principle and consistency.

He was the son of Edward Noye, of Carnanton, in Mawgan parish, and
grandson of William Noy, or Noye, of Pendrea, in Buryan. He was born at
this latter place, it is asserted, in 1577. In 1593 he entered Exeter
College, Oxford, and thence removed to Lincoln's Inn to study common
law. He represented Grampound in Parliament 1603-14, Fowey 1623-5, S.
Ives 1625-7, Helston 1627-31. In Parliament he proved himself an able
and determined opponent to the encroachment of the Royal prerogative.
Hals says: "In the beginning of the reyne of King Charles I he was
specially famous for beinge one of the boldest and stoutest champions of
the subjects' liberty in Parliament that the western parts of England
afforded; which beinge observed by the Court party, Kinge Charles was
advised by his Cabinet Councill that it wold be a prudent course to
divert the force and power of Noye's skill, logick, and rhetorique
another waye, by givinge him som Court preferment. Whereupon Kinge
Charles made him his Attorney-General, 1631, by which expedient he was
soon metamorphized from an asserter of the subjects' liberty and
property to a most zealous and violent promoter of the despotick and
arbitrary prerogative or monarchy of his Prince; soe that like the
image of Janus at Rome, he looked forward and backward, and by means
thereof greatly enriched himself.--Amongst other things, he is reflected
upon by our chronologers for beinge the principal contriver of the
ship-money tax, layd by Kinge Charles upon his subjects for settinge
forth a navye, or fleet of shipps at sea, without the consent of Lords
or Commons in Parliament, which moneys were raysed by writt of the
sheriffs of all countys and commissioners, and for a long tyme brought
into the exchequer twenty thousand pound per mensem, to the greate
distast of the Parliament, the layety, and clergye, who declard against
it as an unlawfull tax."

Noye's appointment as Attorney-General was on October 27th, 1631. He was
not the only one who was a turncoat. Sir Thomas Wentworth, afterwards
created Earl of Strafford, Sir Dudley Digges, and Littleton also
apostatized. Wentworth, the most renowned of the set, after being one of
the sturdiest of the reformers and boldest declaimers in the House of
Commons--after suffering imprisonment for refusing to contribute to the
forced loan--this eminent person, a gentleman of Yorkshire, who boasted
his descent, by bastardy, from the royal line of the Plantagenets, out
of a very ignoble rivalry and an ambition for rank and title (even his
friends could discover no purer motives), sold himself body and soul to
the Court. Sir Dudley Digges, though a spirited debater and a man of
talent, had been known for some time to be without principle, and, upon
being offered the post of Master of the Rolls, he closed at once with
the bargain and turned round upon his former friends.

Noye and Littleton were both distinguished lawyers. Noye's _Treatise
of the Principall Grounds and Maximes_ _of the Laws of this
Kingdom_ has gone through numerous editions down to 1870. His
_Compleat Lawyer_ has also been republished frequently. Noye as
Attorney-General, and Littleton as Solicitor-General, now used their
wits and their knowledge to explain and stretch the prerogative, and
they did this apparently without a blush at the recollection of their
previous conduct when they had combated for the rights of Parliament
and the liberties of the people.


Among Howell's _Familiar Letters_ is one to Sir Arthur Ingram at York.
"Our greatest news here now is, that we have a new Attorney-General,
which is news indeed, considering the humour of the man, how he hath
been always ready to entertain any cause whereby he might clash with
the Prerogative: but now Judg Richardson told him, his head full of
Proclamations and Decrees, how to bring money into the Exchequer. He
hath lately found out amongst the old records of the Tower some
precedents for raising a tax called Ship-Money in all the Port-Towns
when the kingdom is in danger. Whether we are in danger or no, at
present 'twere presumption in me to judg."

That England needed a fleet to protect her could not be disputed.
Howell admits as much. "One with half an eye may see we cannot be
secure while such large fleets of men-of-war, both Spanish, French,
Dutch, and Dunkirkers, some of them laden with ammunition, men, arms,
and armies, do daily sail on our seas and confront the King's chambers
(guns), while we have only three or four ships abroad to guard our
coast and kingdom, and to preserve the fairest flower of the crown,
the dominion of the Narrow Sea, which I hear the French Cardinal
begins to question, and the Hollander lately would not vail to one of
His Majesties ships that brought over the Duke of Lenox and my Lord
Weston from Bullen (Boulogne); and indeed we are jeer'd abroad that we
send no more ships to guard our seas."[20]

Dunkirk was peculiarly obnoxious, as it was a nest of pirates that fell
on our small trading vessels, and even Algerines came with impunity to
our coasts and carried off captives as slaves in Africa. The Dutch,
taking advantage of the domestic broils in England, had greatly advanced
their commerce, and were prepared to dispute with England the command of
the Channel. They excluded English vessels from the northern fisheries,
and went so far as to claim and to exercise the right of fishing along
the English coasts. The Navy of France, moreover, was also rapidly
augmented, under the fostering care of Richelieu.

Hitherto the ports on the coast had contributed towards the defence of
the land and the protection of our shipping, but the inland towns had
been exempted. This was not reasonable, and Charles resolved on
imposing a general tax to provide England with a fleet. He had
recourse to Noye instead of placing the matter before Parliament.

Noye, says Clarendon, "was wrought upon by degrees by the great
persons that steered the public affairs to be an instrument in all
their designs, turning his learning and industry to the discovery of
sources of revenue, and to the justifying them when found--thinking
that he could not give a clearer testimony that his knowledge of the
law was greater than all other men's, than by making that law which
all other men believed to be not so. So he moulded, framed, and
pursued the odious and crying project of soap, and with his own hand
drew and prepared the writ for ship-money, both which will be lasting
monuments of his fame."

About the soap monopoly presently.

The first writ was issued by the Lords of the Council "for the
assessing and levying of the ship-money against this next spring," on
the 20th October, 1634. It was signed by the King, and was addressed
to the mayor, commonalty and citizens of London, and to the sheriffs
and good men in the said city and in the liberties thereof. They were
commanded by the 1st March to provide one ship of war of 900 tons with
350 men at the least, one other ship of war of 800 tons and 260 men at
the least, four other ships of war of 500 tons with 200 men in each,
and another ship of war of 300 tons with 150 men. They were further
ordered to supply those ships with guns, powder, and all necessary
arms, with double tackling, provisions, and stores; as also to defray
at their charges the men's wages for twenty-six weeks. The Common
Council remonstrated, declaring that by their ancient liberties they
ought to be free from any such burden; but the Privy Council rejected
the remonstrance, and compelled submission.

At the beginning of the following year, 1635, the writs, after having
been served along the sea-board, were sent to the inland counties, but
from them money was asked in lieu of ships at the rate of £3300 for
every ship, and the local magistrates were empowered to assess all the
inhabitants for a contribution.

In spite of the resistance offered to the exaction of this tax in 1635
and the following year a fleet was raised, the Dutch fishing vessels
were driven from the coast, and a number of English slaves were
rescued from Moorish pirates.

Howell wrote to Mr. Philip Warwick in Paris:[21] "The greatest news we
have here is that we have a gallant Fleet Royal ready to set to sea for
the security of our Coasts and Commerce, and for the sovereignty of our
seas. Hans (the Hanseatic League) said the King of England was asleep
all the while, but now he is awake. Nor, do I hear, doth your French
Cardinal tamper any longer with our King's title and right to the
dominion of the Narrow Seas. These are brave fruits of the Ship-Money."

The King was still in great straits for money, and he turned for help
to Noye. The Parliament had insisted on the suppression of monopolies,
but Charles revived them by Noye's advice; and for the sum of £10,000
which they paid for their patent, and for a duty of £8 upon every ton
of soap they should make, he granted to a company a charter according
to it the exclusive privilege to make and to sell soap. The patent had
a proviso in it permitting every soap-boiler then exercising his trade
in England to become a member of the chartered company; and that
precious turncoat, Noye, who devised the project, considered that in
this way he had evaded the letter of the law, as the Act of Parliament
forbidding monopolies had been directed against individuals and
against some two or three monopolists favoured by the Court. These
incorporated soap-boilers, as part of their bargains, received powers
to appoint searchers; and they exercised a sort of inquisition over
the trade. Such dealers as resisted their interference, or tried to
make soap on their own account, were handed over to the tender mercies
of the Star Chamber.

This precedent was followed by the creation of a similar company of

The King and Laud, who had been promised the primacy on the death of
Archbishop Abbot, were embarked together on an evil course. Laud
believed in the Divine Right of Kings, and he was a man totally devoid
of suavity of manner and of breadth of mind. He would compel all men to
think as he thought, and act as he chose. That wheat and tares should
grow together till the harvest was a doctrine of the Gospel he could not
comprehend, and his energies and power were directed towards the
forcible uprooting of the tares in the field of the Church, and the
tares were the heterodox Puritans. Between him and the King they would
allow no liberty to men either in their bodies and goods, or in their
souls and consciences. That there should be crabbed and crooked sticks
Laud would not allow; all must be clean and straight as willow wands. To
the civil despotism alone as exercised by Charles, the English people
might possibly have submitted for some time longer, for the ship-money
had produced the desired effect; but the scourge of Laud lashed them to
fury. And Noye was the scourge Laud employed in the Star Chamber. Hammon
Le Strange, in his _Life of King Charles I_, says that Noye became so
servilely addicted to the King's prerogative, by ferreting out old penal
statutes and devising new exactions, that he was the most pestilential
vexation of the subject that the age produced.

When William Prynne, a barrister of Lincoln's Inn, was brought (1634)
before the Star Chamber to answer for his book _Histrio-Mastix, or the
Players' Scourge_, it was Noye who filed information against him.
Prynne attacked all plays, masques, and dances. The offence charged
against him was this: "Although he knew that His Majesty's royal
Queen, the Lords of the Council, etc. were in festivals oftentimes
present spectators of some masques and dances, and many recreations
that were tolerable and in themselves sinless, and so declared to be
by a book printed in the time of His Majesty's royal father; yet Mr.
Prynne, in his book, hath railed not only against stage-plays,
comedies, dancings, and all other exercises of the people, and against
all such as frequent or behold them; but further, in particular,
against hunting, public festivals, Christmas-keeping, bond-fires, and
May-poles; nay, even against the dressing up of houses with green
ivy." He was further accused of directly casting aspersions upon the
Queen, and of stirring up the people to discontent against the King,
whom he had spoken of in "terms unfit for so sacred a person."

The whole tenor of the book, according to Noye, was not less against
the Church of England than against these amusements, and their Sacred
Majesties for countenancing them. "The music in the Church," said the
Attorney-General, "the charitable terms he giveth it is, not to be a
noise of men, but rather a bleating of bruit beasts; choristers bellow
the tenor as it were oxen, bark a counter-point as a kennel of dogs,
roar out a treble like a sort of bulls, grunt out a bass as it were a
number of hogs ... also his general censure of all the bishops and of
all the clergy; they scorn to feed the poor--these silk and satin
divines. Very charitable terms upon those of the Church. Christmas, as
it is kept, is a devil's Christmas--nay, he doth bestow a great number
of pages to make men affect the name of Puritan, as though Christ were
a Puritan, and so he saith in his Index."

The fact was Prynne was a narrow-minded, cantankerous fanatic, whose
only idea of religion was of an acrid nature, and who looked upon all
entertainments as wicked. He complained that forty thousand playbooks
had been sold in London, and that there was no keen demand for printed
sermons; that Ben Jonson's plays and poems had been published on
better paper than Bibles.

Instead of treating Prynne, as a religious maniac, with good-humoured
contempt, he was sentenced by the Star Chamber to pay £10,000, be
branded on the forehead, have his nostril slit, and his ears cropped.
This infamous sentence was executed, and then Prynne was sent to the
Fleet, where he was to endure imprisonment till he retracted and
apologized. So far from apologizing, he sent from the Fleet to Laud a
stinging letter about the Star Chamber sentences, which letter Laud
showed to the King, and then, by the King's command, showed it to
Noye. Noye had Prynne forthwith brought to his chamber, exhibited the
letter, and asked him whether he acknowledged his handwriting. Prynne
replied that he could not tell unless he were allowed a close
inspection of it. The letter being then placed in his hands, and Mr.
Attorney Noye having retired to his closet for a pressing necessity,
Prynne, when his back was turned, tore it to shreds and threw the
scraps out of the window. Noye then brought Prynne again before the
Star Chamber, but Laud now interfered, and urged that the matter of
the insulting letter might not be pressed against him.

In 1636, as soon as he could get hold of ink and paper, this
incorrigible pamphleteer published fresh attacks on the bishops, among
others _News from Ipswich_, under the name of Matthew White. He was
again dragged before the Star Chamber, and was fined £5000 and ordered
to lose the rest of his ears, to be branded on both cheeks with "S.
L." for "Seditious Libeller." Noye, however, had no part in this final
persecution; nor did he live to see the results to the King of the
course he had recommended and which had been pursued.

His health began to fail, and he went to Tunbridge Wells to drink the
waters. They, however, did him no good, and he died on the 9th August,
1635, at the Wells, and was buried in New Brentford Church on the
ensuing 11th August.

Howell, in a letter to Viscount Savage dated 1st October, 1635, wrote:
"The old steward of your Courts, Master Attorney-General Noy, is
lately dead, nor could Tunbridge Waters do him any good. Though he had
good matter in his brain, he had, it seems, ill materials in his body,
for his heart was shrivelled like a leather penny-purse when he was
dissected, nor were his lungs found.

"Being such a Clerk in the Law, all the world wonders he left such an
odd will, which is short and in Latin. The substance of it is, that he
having bequeathed a few Legacies, and left his second son one hundred
marks a year, and nine hundred pounds in money, enough to bring him up
in his Father's Profession, he concludes: _Reliqua meorum omnia
primogenito meo Edwardo, dissipanda nec melius unquam (speravi) lego_:
I leave the rest of my goods to my firstborn Edward (mistake for
Humphry), to be consum'd or scattered (for I never hoped better). A
strange, and scarce a Christian Will, in my opinion, for it argues
uncharitableness. Nor doth the world wonder lesse, that he should
leave no Legacy to some of your Lordship's children, considering what
deep obligations he had to your Lordship; for I am confident he had
never bin Attorney-General else."

Hals tells this story of Noye: "The Attorney-General on a day havinge
King Charles I and the principal officers and nobilitie of his court,
at a dinner at his house in London, at which tyme the arch poet Ben
Jonson, and others being at an inne, on the other side the street;
and wantinge both meate and money for their subsistance, at that
exigent resolved to trye an expedient, to gett his dinner from the
Attorney-General's table, in order to which, by the landlord of the
inne aforesaid, he sent a white timber plate or trencher to him, when
the King was sate downe to table, whereon was inscribed these words:--

          When the world was drown'd
          Nor deer was found,
            Because there was noe park;
          And here I sitt,
          Without e're a bitt,
            Cause Noah hath all in his Arke.

Which plate beinge presented by the Attorney-Generall to the Kinge,
produced this effect; that Jonson had a good dish of venison sent him
back by the bearer to his great content and satisfaction, on which
aforesaid plate, by the King's direction, Jonson's rhymes were thus
inverted or contradicted:--

          When the world was drown'd
          There deer was found,
            Although there was noe park;
          I send thee a bitt,
          To quicken thy witt,
            Which com' from Noya's Ark.

William Noye anagram, I Moyle in law. He was the blowcoal incendiary
or stirrer up of the occasion of the civill wars between Kinge Charles
and his Parliament, by assertinge and setting up the King's
prerogative to the highest pitch, as King James I had done before,
beyond the laws of the land as aforesaid. And as counsill for the
Kinge he prosecuted for Kinge Charles I the imprisoned members of the
House of Commons, 1628, viz. Sir John Ellyot, Mr. Coryton and others."

Noye died in 1638. Hals adds: "He had the principal hand in the most
oppressive expedients for raising money for the King, and seems not to
have had the least notion of public spirit. He was, in a word, a man
of an enlarged head and a contracted heart."

His portrait, formerly possessed by Davies Gilbert,[22] has been
engraved in Polwhele's _Biographical Sketches in Cornwall_. The eldest
son, Edward, was killed in a duel by Captain Byron in France in 1636,
and then Carnanton passed to his brother Humphrey, a colonel in King
Charles' army, and Commissioner of the Peace for the County of
Cornwall. He married Hester, daughter of Henry Sandys, and sister and
coheiress of George Lord Sandys of the Vine. He was as worthless a
fellow as his elder brother Edward, and William Noye, the father,
foresaw the ruin of the family estates to whichever of his sons they
fell; for, in default of male issue, they were to go to Humphrey Noye,
not Edward as Howell states. Humphrey by his bad conduct, riot and
excess, lost all the estate left him by his father except Carnanton,
and for many years lived on the charity of his friends and on
dishonest tricks; for being a magistrate and generally chairman at the
sessions, he took bribes to pervert judgment; acquitting felons, etc.,
till at last he was detected and struck out of the Commission. Hals
says: "After which growinge scandalous for these and other
misdemeanours, he was slighted by his former friends, and put to great
hardships to get a subsistance necessary for the life of man (his
creditors beinge upon mortgages in possession of his whole estate).
However, it happened some time before his death, that upon puttinge
his hand and seale with his creditors for conveying the manor of Amell
and Trylly in Penwith to his son-in-lawe, Mr. Davies, on marrying
with his daughter Katherine, he had by them pay'd him in cash £100 in
consideration thereof. Soon after the receipt of which money he
sicken'd and dyed at Thomas Wills' house in S. Colomb Towne, and left
£80 in cash, about the yeare 1683; which was more money than he was
possest of at one tyme for about twenty yeares before; and the last
words that he was heard to speake, as his soule passed out of this
life, was: 'Lord, where am I goinge now?'"

Humphrey Noye had two sons, but both predeceased him and died without
issue. His daughter Hester married Henry Davies, of Buryan, and had by
him a son, William, who left issue two daughters only.

Catherine, the second daughter, married in 1679 William Davies, of
Bosworgy, who by her left issue John Davies of Ednovean, whose
daughter Catherine married the Rev. Edward Giddy, whose son Davies
Giddy assumed the name and arms of Gilbert.

The third daughter, Bridgeman, married John Willyams, of Roxworthy,
but died childless. After her death Willyams married Dorothy, daughter
of Peter Daye, gent., and by her had issue, and the family of Willyams
to this day possesses Carnanton.

The arms of Noye are _azure_, three crosses crosslets, in bend,


[20] _Familiar Letters_, ed. 1678, p. 233.

[21] _Familiar Letters_, p. 239. It is wrongly dated, June, 1634, in
place of 1636. The dates to the letters were in many cases arbitrarily
assigned by the publisher.

[22] Now by Carew Davies Gilbert, Esq., of Trelisseck.

                             WILLIAM LEMON

William Lemon was the son of a William Lemon, of Germoe, in humble
circumstances; he was baptized at Breage, 15th November, 1696; his
mother's maiden name was Rodda. As a lad he obtained a smattering of
knowledge at a village school, sufficient to enable him to enter an
office as clerk to a Mr. Coster. The story was told of him that as a
boy he had formed one link of a living chain, which, connected only by
the grasp of their hands, extended itself into a tremendous surf, and
rescued several persons who had been shipwrecked.

Whilst still young he became manager of a tin-smelting house at
Chiandower, near Penzance, and speedily acquired a great knowledge of
mining in Cornwall. In 1724 he married Isabella Vibert, of
Tolver-in-Gulval, and with her received a sufficient fortune[23] to
enable him to indulge in speculations in mines, and these turned out
so happily that he embarked still further in mining ventures. He was
the first who conceived the project of working the mines upon a grand
scale, and not of running them by small bands of adventurers. A new
era in mining opened with the introduction of the steam-pump, and the
first, invented by Newcomen, of Dartmouth, was used in the Great Work
at Breage. William Lemon associated with himself George Blewett, of
Marazion, and a Mr. Dewin, and these three commenced working a mine on
a farm called Truvel, in Ludgvan, the property of Lord Godolphin, and
named Wheal Fortune, where the second steam-engine was employed.

[Illustration: _Engraved by J M Meys_

_To Sir William Lemon Bart. M.P. for Cornwalle_

_This Plate of his_ Grand-Father

William Lemon Esq^r.

is inscribed by R. POLWHELE]

Mr. Lemon is said to have realized £10,000 out of Wheal Fortune, and
this enabled him to extend his operations. He removed to Truro, and
commenced working the great Gwennap Mines on a scale unprecedented in
Cornwall. Carnan Adit was either actually commenced, or at least was
effectively prosecuted, by Mr. Lemon; and as his means increased he
soon became the principal merchant and tin-smelter in Cornwall.

But he was keenly alive to his deficient education. He was shrewd,
could calculate, but had no knowledge of English literature, and his
spelling was remarkable. However, he set vigorously to work to correct
his defects, and late in life placed himself under the tuition of Mr.
Conon, master of the Truro Grammar School, and even acquired a
certain--not, certainly, very extensive--knowledge of Latin.

Mr. Lemon had a favourite tame Cornish chough that would always obey
his call. If he were walking on Truro Green, or through the streets,
the chough would fly to him instantly at his whistle, though it had
been associating with other birds or perched on a house-top.

It so happened that John Thomas, afterwards the Warden of the
Stannaries, but then a boy at Conon's school, taking his gun, contrary
to the rules of the school, and going out shooting, unluckily killed the
chough. This produced a great outcry, and when he was told that this was
Mr. Lemon's favourite bird, he strongly suspected that the least
punishment he would receive would be a flogging from his schoolmaster
and a hiding as well from Mr. Lemon. But Thomas took courage, went to
Mr. Lemon's house, knocked at the door, was admitted to Mr. Lemon, and
trembling and in tears confessed what he had done. Mr. Lemon paused a
moment, and then said that he was sorry for the poor bird, but freely
forgave the little delinquent on account of his candour in acknowledging
his fault, and more than that, he promised to keep it a secret, and if
it should reach Conon's ears, would intercede for him.

In 1742 he was Sheriff for the county. He became one of the Truro
magistrates, and might, had he cared for it, have been elected as a
member for one or other of the Cornish boroughs.

He was author of a lucid argument written to Sir Robert Walpole to
obtain the withdrawal of a tax levied on coals, and which acted
prejudicially on the Cornish mines. The presentation of this memorial
is thought to have been instrumental in obtaining for him, from
Frederick, Prince of Wales, a grant of all minerals found in Cornwall,
with the exception of tin; and the Prince likewise sent him a present
of silver plate.

He bought Carclew in 1749, and died at Truro, 25th March, 1760, in the
sixty-third year of his life.

He and his wife had one son only, William Lemon, junior, who died some
years before his father, leaving two sons and a daughter. The elder,
Sir William Lemon, Bart.,[24] represented the county of Cornwall in
Parliament during fifty years.

As an instance of the respect paid to the genius, and above all the
wealth of Mr. Lemon, the people of Truro are said to have drawn back
from their doors and windows as he passed through the street, and the
Rev. Samuel Walker, when exhorting children at catechizing to be
circumspect in the presence of Almighty God, said: "Only think, dear
children, how careful you would be if Mr. Lemon were looking upon you."

Sir William's eldest son, Major William Lemon, shot himself at Princes
Street, Hanover Square, London, early in 1799, when a young man of
only twenty-five.

The baronetcy is now extinct, and Carclew is the residence and
property of Captain W. Tremayne.


[23] It came to her by bequest of her godmother, Mrs. Elizabeth Noles,
who had acquired a fortune by business at Chiandower.

[24] Created Baronet 3rd May, 1774.

                              SAMUEL DREW

The life of Samuel Drew was written by his eldest son, and published
by Longman, Rees, and Co. in 1834. It is a volume of 534 pages, and
probably few would be disposed to wade through it. Of his early days
by far the brighter account is that furnished by himself to Mr. R.
Polwhele; but the son supplies some anecdotes that may be quoted.

"I was born on the 3rd March, 1765, in an obscure cottage in the
parish of S. Austell, about a mile and a half distant from the town.
My father was a common labourer, and had through mere dint of manual
labour to provide for himself, a wife, and four children, of whom I
was the second. One child died in infancy, and at the age of nine
years[25] I had the misfortune to lose my mother." Rather more than a
year before the death of Mrs. Drew, Samuel was set to work at a
neighbouring stamping-mill as a _buddle-boy_, and for his services his
father received three-halfpence a day, but this was raised later to
twopence, the largest sum Samuel realized in that employment, though
he continued to work at it for more than two years.

[Illustration: SAMUEL DREW]

Not long after the death of his wife, Samuel's father took a woman named
Bate into the house, to act as housekeeper; and in the second year of
his widowhood he married her, to the disgust of his children. When
she was entertaining her friends and gossips at tea after the wedding,
Samuel discharged a syringeful of water over the party. This was more
than she could put up with, and Samuel had to be sent away and
apprenticed to a shoemaker named Baker, in the parish of S. Blazey.

He says himself: "My father, being exceedingly poor, felt much
embarrassment in finding a premium to give to my master, with whom, at
the age of ten years and a half, I was bound an apprentice for nine
years, which length of time, together with five pounds five shillings,
was considered by my master as a suitable bargain. It was at this tender
age that I bid adieu to my father's habitation, and as a place of
residence have never entered it since. The little knowledge of writing
which I had acquired from my father was almost entirely lost during my
apprenticeship; I had, however, an opportunity at intervals of perusing
Goadby's _Weekly Entertainer_, and used to puzzle my little head about
riddles and enigmas, and felt much pleasure in perusing the anecdotes
which were occasionally interspersed through the pages."

Whilst at the shoemaker's a curious incident occurred: "There were
several of us, boys and men, out about twelve o'clock on a bright
moonlight night. I think we were poaching. The party were in a field
adjoining the road leading from my master's to S. Austell, and I was
stationed outside the hedge to watch and give the alarm if any
intruder should appear. While thus occupied I heard what appeared to
be the sound of a horse approaching from the town, and I gave a
signal. My companions paused and came to the hedge where I was, to see
the passenger. They looked through the bushes, and I drew myself close
to the hedge, that I might not be observed. The sound increased, and
the supposed horseman seemed drawing near. The clatter of the hoofs
became more and more distinct. We all looked to see who and what it
was, and I was seized with a strange, indefinable feeling of dread;
when, instead of a horse, there appeared coming towards us, at an easy
pace, but with the same sound which first caught my ear, a creature
about the height of a large dog. It went close by me, and as it
passed, it turned upon me and my companions huge fiery eyes that
struck terror to all our hearts. The road where I stood branched off
in two directions, in one of which there was a gate across. Towards
the gate it moved, and, without any apparent obstruction, went on at
its regular trot, which we heard several minutes after it had
disappeared. Whatever it was, it put an end to our occupation, and we
made the best of our way home.

"I have often endeavoured in later years, but without success, to
account, on natural principles, for what I then heard and saw. As to the
facts, I am sure there was no deception. It was a night of unusual
brightness, occasioned by a cloudless full moon. The creature was unlike
any animal I had then seen, but from my present recollections it had
much the appearance of a bear, with a dark shaggy coat. Had it not been
for the unearthly lustre of its eyes, and its passing through the gate
as it did, there would be no reason to suppose it anything more than an
animal perhaps escaped from some menagerie. That it did pass through the
gate without pause or hesitation I am perfectly clear. Indeed, we all
saw it, and saw that the gate was shut, from which we were not distant
more than twenty or thirty yards. The bars were too close to admit the
passage of an animal of half its apparent bulk; yet this creature went
through without effort or variation of its pace."

He was roughly and cruelly treated by his master, who would beat him
with the last, and at one time for a while maimed him. At length he
felt that he could endure the bondage no more, and with sixteen-pence
ha'penny in his pocket he ran away with the intention of going to
Plymouth and seeking a berth on board a man-of-war.

At this time Sam's father was in somewhat better circumstances. He was
chiefly employed in what was called _riding Sherborne_. There was at
that time scarcely a bookseller in Cornwall; and the only newspaper
known among the common people was the _Sherborne Mercury_, published
weekly by Goadby and Co., who also issued the _Weekly Entertainer_.
The papers were not sent by post, but by private messengers, who were
termed _Sherborne men_. Drew, senior, was one of these. Between
Plymouth and Penzance were two stages on the main road, each about
forty miles; and there were branch riders, in different directions,
who held regular communication with each other and with the
establishment at Sherborne. Their business was to deliver the
newspapers, _Entertainers_, and any books that had been ordered, to
collect the money, and to take fresh orders. Mr. Drew's stage was from
S. Austell to Plymouth. He always set off on his journey early on
Monday morning and returned on Wednesday.

When Samuel Drew had made up his mind to run away, he did not choose
the direct road for fear of encountering his father, but took that by

"I went on through the night, and feeling fatigued, went into a
hay-field and slept. My luggage was no encumbrance; as the whole of my
property, besides the clothes I wore, was contained in a small
handkerchief. Not knowing how long I should have to depend on my
slender stock of cash, I found it necessary to use the most rigid
economy. Having to pass over either a ferry or toll-bridge, for which
I had to pay a halfpenny, feeling my present situation, and knowing
nothing of my future prospects, this small call upon my funds
distressed me, I wept as I went on my way. The exertion of walking and
the fresh morning air gave me a keener appetite than I thought it
prudent to indulge. I, however, bought a penny loaf, and with a
halfpenny-worth of milk in a farmer's house ate half of my loaf for
breakfast. In passing through Liskeard my attention was attracted by a
shoemaker's shop, in the door of which a respectable-looking man, whom
I supposed to be the master, was standing. Without any intention of
seeking employment in this place, I asked him if he could give me
work; and he, taking compassion, I suppose, on my sorry appearance,
promised to employ me the next morning. Before I could go to work
tools were necessary; and I was obliged to lay out a shilling on
these. Dinner, under such circumstances, was out of the question; for
supper I bought another halfpenny-worth of milk, ate the remainder of
my loaf, and for a lodging again had recourse to the fields. The next
morning I purchased another penny loaf and renewed my labour. My
employer soon found that I was a miserable tool, yet he treated me
kindly. I had now but one penny left, and this I wished to husband
till my labour brought a supply; so for dinner I tied my apron-strings
tighter and went on with my work. My abstinence subjected me to the
jeers of my shopmates. One of them said to another, 'Where does our
shopmate dine?' and the response was, 'Oh! he always dines at the sign
of the Mouth.' Half of the penny loaf which I took with me in the
morning I had allotted for my supper; but before night came I had
pinched it nearly all away in mouthfuls through mere hunger. Very
reluctantly I laid out my last penny, and with no enviable feelings
sought my former lodging in the open air."

But on the following day Samuel's father, having learned where he was,
came to remove him and take him back to S. Austell. Compensation was
made to Baker, his indenture was cancelled, and he remained at Polpea,
where Mr. Drew now had a little farm, for about four months.

Drew, the father, not only was occupied as a Sherborne rider, but he was
also a contractor for carrying the mail between S. Austell and Bodmin,
and he chiefly employed his eldest son, Jabez, in carrying the mails.

"At one time in the depth of winter I was borrowed to supply my
brother's place, and I had to travel in the darkness of night through
frost and snow a dreary journey, out and home, of more than twenty
miles. Being overpowered with fatigue, I fell asleep on the horse's
neck, and when I awoke discovered that I had lost my hat. The wind was
keen and piercing, and I was bitterly cold. I stopped the horse and
endeavoured to find out where I was; but it was so dark that I could
scarcely distinguish the hedges on each side of the road, and I had no
means of ascertaining how long I had been asleep or how far I had
travelled. I then dismounted and looked around for my hat; but seeing
nothing of it, I turned back, leading the horse, determined to find it
if possible; for the loss of a hat was to me of serious consequence.
Shivering with cold, I pursued my solitary way, scrutinizing the road
at every step, until I had walked about two miles, and was on the
point of giving up the search, when I came to a receiving house, where
I ought to have delivered a packet of letters, but had passed it when
asleep. To this place the post usually came about one o'clock in the
morning, and it was customary to leave a window unfastened, except by
a large stone outside, that the family might not be disturbed at so
unseasonable an hour. I immediately put the letter-bag through the
window, and having replaced the stone, was turning round to my horse,
when I perceived my hat lying close to my feet. I suppose that the
horse, knowing the place, must have stopped at the window for me to
deliver my charge; but having waited until his patience was exhausted,
had pursued his way to the next place. My hat must have been shaken
off by his impatient movements."

The remarkable thing about this incident is that the horse was quite
blind, yet it could go its accustomed road, and stop at accustomed
places, without seeing. By all the family this sagacious animal was
much prized, but Samuel's father felt for it a special regard; and the
attachment between the master and his faithful servant was, to all
appearance, mutual. Many years before, the poor beast, in a wretched
condition from starvation and ill-usage, had been turned out on a
common to die. The owner willingly sold it for little more than the
value of the hide; and his new possessor, having by care and kindness
restored it to health and strength, soon found that he had made a most
advantageous bargain. For more than twenty years he and his blind
companion travelled the road together. After the horse was past labour
it was kept in the orchard and tended with almost parental care.
Latterly it became unable to bite the grass, and the old man regularly
fed it with bread sopped in milk. In the morning it would put its head
over the orchard railing, towards its master's bedroom, and give its
accustomed neigh, whereupon old Mr. Drew would jump out of bed, open
the window, and call to the horse, "My poor old fellow, I will be
with thee soon." And when the animal died, he would not allow the skin
or shoes to be taken off, but had the carcase buried entire.

Samuel tells another story of instinct in brute beasts:--

"Our dairy was under a room which was used occasionally as a barn and
apple-chamber, into which the fowls sometimes found their way, and, in
scratching among the chaff, scattered the dust on the pans of milk
below, to the great annoyance of my mother-in-law. In this a favourite
cock of hers was the chief transgressor. One day in harvest she went
into the dairy, followed by her little dog, and finding dust again
thrown on the milk-pans, she exclaimed, 'I wish that cock were dead!'
Not long after, she being with us in the harvest field, we observed
the little dog dragging along the cock, just killed, which with an air
of triumph he laid at my mother-in-law's feet. She was dreadfully
exasperated at the literal fulfilment of her hastily uttered wish,
and, snatching a stick from the hedge, attempted to give the luckless
dog a beating. The dog, seeing the reception he was likely to meet
with, where he expected marks of approbation, left the bird and ran
off, she brandishing her stick and saying in a loud, angry tone, 'I'll
pay thee for this by and by.' In the evening she was about to put her
threat into execution, when she found the little dog established in a
corner of the room and a large one standing before it. Endeavouring to
fulfil her intention by first driving off the large dog, he gave her
plainly to understand that he was not at all disposed to relinquish
his post. She then sought to get at the small dog behind the other,
but the threatening gesture and fiercer growl of the large one
sufficiently indicated that the attempt would be not a little
perilous. The result was that she was obliged to abandon her design.
In killing the cock I can scarcely think the dog understood the
precise import of my stepmother's wish, as his immediate execution of
it would seem to imply. The cock was a more recent favourite, and had
received some attentions which had been previously bestowed upon
himself. This, I think, had led him to entertain a feeling of
hostility to the bird, which he did not presume to indulge until my
mother's tone and manner indicated that the cock was no longer under
her protection. In the power of communicating with each other which
these dogs evidently possessed, and which, in some instances, has been
displayed by this species of animal, a faculty seems to be developed
of which we know very little. On the whole, I never remember to have
met with a case in which, to human appearance, there was a nearer
approach to moral perception than in that of my father's two dogs."

Samuel Drew remained with his father's family from midsummer, 1782,
till the autumn of the same year, and then took a situation in a
shoemaker's shop at Millbrook, on the Cornish side of the estuary of
the Tamar. After having been there for a year he moved to Cawsand and
then to Crafthole, where he got mixed up in smuggling ventures.

Port Wrinkle, which Crafthole adjoins, lies about the middle of the
extensive bay reaching from Looe Island to the Rame Head. It is little
more than a fissure among the rocks which guard the long line of
coast; and being exposed to the uncontrolled violence of the
prevailing winds, affords a very precarious shelter.

Notice was given through Crafthole one evening, about the month of
December, 1784, that a vessel laden with contraband goods was on the
coast, and would be ready to discharge her cargo. At nightfall Samuel
Drew, with the rest of the male population, made towards the port. One
party remained on the rocks to make signals and dispose of the goods
when landed; the other, of which he was one, manned the boats. The
night was intensely dark; and but little progress had been made in
discharging the vessel's cargo when the wind freshened, with a heavy
sea. To prevent the ship being driven on to the rocks it was found
expedient to stand off from the port; but this greatly increased the
risk to those in the boats. Unfavourable as these circumstances were,
all seemed resolved to persevere; and several trips were made between
the vessel and the shore. The wind continuing to increase, one of the
men in the boat with Drew had his hat blown off, and in leaning over
the gunwale in his attempt to secure it, upset the boat, and three of
the men were drowned. Samuel and two others clung to the keel for a
time, but finding that they were drifting out to sea, they were
constrained to let go and sustain themselves by swimming. But the
night was pitch dark, and immersed in the waters they knew not in
which direction to swim. Samuel had given himself up as lost, when he
laid hold of a tangled mass of floating seaweed, and was able to
sustain himself on that. At length he approached some rocks near the
shore, upon which he and two other men, the only survivors of seven,
managed to crawl; but they were so benumbed with cold and so much
exhausted by their exertions that the utmost they could do was to
cling to the rocks and let the sea wash over them. When a little
recovered, they shouted for help, but the other boatmen were concerned
in transporting their lading of kegs on shore, and not till the vessel
had discharged all her cargo did they make any attempt to rescue the
half-drowned men. Eventually they removed them to a farmhouse, where a
blazing fire was kindled on the hearth and fresh faggots piled on it,
while the half-drowned men, who were placed in a recess of the
chimney, unable to relieve themselves, were compelled to endure the
excessive heat which their companions thought was necessary to restore
animation. The result was that they were half roasted. Samuel Drew
says: "My first sensation was that of extreme cold. It was a long time
before I felt the fire, though its effects are still visible on my
legs, which are burnt in several places. The wounds continued open
more than two years, and the marks I shall carry to my grave."

The death of his elder brother Jabez produced a profound impression on
Samuel, and he became a Methodist.

"For the space of about four or five years I travelled through different
parts of Cornwall, working whenever I could obtain employment; and
during this period, waded through scenes of domestic distress, which can
be interesting only to myself. _Literature_ was a term to which I could
annex no idea. _Grammar_ I knew not the meaning of. An opportunity,
however, now offering one an advance in wages at S. Austell, I embraced
it, and came hither to work with rather an eccentric character. My
master was by trade a saddler, had acquired some knowledge of
book-binding, and hired me to carry on the shoe-making for him. My
master was one of those men who will live anywhere, but get rich
nowhere. His shop was frequented by persons of a more respectable class
than those with whom I had previously associated; and various topics
became alternately the subjects of conversation. I listened with all
that attention which my labour and good manners would permit me, and
obtained among them some little knowledge. About this time disputes ran
high in S. Austell between the Calvinists and Arminians, and our shop
afforded a considerable scene of action. In cases of uncertain issue, I
was sometimes appealed to to decide upon a doubtful point. This,
perhaps, flattering my vanity, became a new stimulus to action. I
listened with attention, examined dictionaries, picked up many words,
and, from an attachment which I felt to books that were occasionally
brought to his shop to bind, I began to have some view of the various
theories with which they abounded. The more, however, I read, the more I
felt my own ignorance; and the more I felt my own ignorance, the more
invincible became my energy to surmount it; and every leisure moment was
now employed in reading one thing or other.... After having worked with
this master about three years, I well recollect, a neighbouring
gentleman brought _Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding_ to be
bound. I had never seen or heard of these books before. I took an
occasion to look into them, when I thought his mode of reasoning very
pretty and his arguments exceedingly strong. I watched all opportunities
of reading for myself, and would willingly have laboured a fortnight to
have had the books. They, however, were soon carried away, and with them
all my future improvement by their means. I never saw his essay again
for many years, yet the early impression was not forgotten, and it is
from this accidental circumstance that I received my first bias for
abstruse subjects.

"My master growing inattentive to his shoe-making trade, many of my
friends advised me to commence business for myself, and offered me
money for that purpose. I accepted the offer, started accordingly,
and by mere dint of application, in about one year discharged my debts
and stood alone. My leisure hours I now employed in reading, or
scribbling anything which happened to pass my mind."

Thus he went on till 1798, when he laid the foundation of an _Essay on
the Immortality of the Soul_. Whilst engaged upon this he had T.
Paine's _Age of Reason_ put into his hands. He read it, but saw the
fallacy of many of his arguments, and he wrote his remarks on the
book, and published them in pamphlet form at S. Austell in 1799.

Through this tract he obtained acquaintance with the Rev. John
Whitaker, to whom he showed his MS. on _The Immortality of the Soul_,
and was encouraged to revise, continue, and complete the essay, and it
was published in November, 1802.

"During these literary pursuits I regularly and constantly attended on
my business, and do not recollect that ever one customer has been
disappointed by me through these means. While attending to my trade, I
sometimes catch the fibres of an argument, which I endeavour to note
the prominent features of, and keep a pen and ink by me for the
purpose. In this state, what I can collect through the day remains on
any paper which I have at hand till the business of the day is
dispatched and my shop shut up, when, in the midst of my family, I
endeavour to analyze, in the evening, such thoughts as had crossed my
mind during the day."

At one time the bent of Drew's mind was towards astronomy, but when he
considered how impossible it was for him, without means, to purchase a
powerful telescope, to make any progress in the study of the stars, he
abandoned the thought and devoted himself to metaphysics--perhaps one
of the most unprofitable of all studies. His works were, however,
read by some when they issued from the press, and are now no longer
even looked into.

A friend one day remarked to him, "Mr. Drew, more than once I have
heard you quote the line--

          'Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.'

How do you make that out?"

"I will tell you by my own experience," replied Drew. "When I began
business I was a great politician. For the first year I had too much
to think about to indulge my propensity for politics; but, getting a
little ahead in the world, I began to dip into these matters again,
and entered into newspaper argument as if my livelihood depended on
it; my shop was filled with loungers, who came to canvass public
measures. This encroached on my time, and I found it necessary
sometimes to work till midnight to make up for the hours I lost. One
night, after my shutters were closed, and I was busily employed, some
little urchin who was passing put his mouth to the keyhole of the
door, and with a shrill pipe called out, 'Shoemaker! Shoemaker! Work
by night and run about by day!' Had a pistol been fired off at my ear
I could not have been more confounded. From that time I turned over a
new leaf. I ceased to venture on the restless sea of politics, or
trouble myself about matters which did not concern me. The bliss of
ignorance on political topics I often experienced in after life--the
folly of being wise my early history shows."

His sister kept house for him. One market-day a country-woman entered
his shop, and having completed her purchases, remarked that she
thought he would be more comfortable if he had a wife. Drew assented,
but said, "I don't know any one who would have me." "Oh! that's easily
settled," said the woman, and left. Next market-day she returned,
bringing her buxom, apple-cheeked daughter with her. "There, Mr.
Drew," said she; "I brought this maid, who will make 'ee a good wife."

Samuel demurred; he neither knew the family nor the qualities and
character of the wench.

"Lor' bless 'ee!" said the woman, when he made these objections, "take
her. The trial of the pudding is in the eating."

He declined the proposal, however; but this incident turned his mind
to matrimony, and on April 17th, 1791, when in his twenty-seventh
year, he married Honor Halls, and by her had five sons and three
daughters. His wife's immediate fortune was £10, a sum of great
importance at that time to him. Three years after it was increased by
a legacy of £50.

Having made a certain amount of success with his _Essay on the
Immortality of the Soul_, Drew next undertook one on _The Identity and
Resurrection of the Human Body_, and this was published in 1809.

Into a controversy he was engaged in with Mr. Polwhele in 1800 on
Methodism we need not enter, but it made no breach of friendly feeling
between Mr. Polwhele and him, and it was at the request of the former
that Drew wrote the little account of his life that appeared in
Polwhele's _Literary Characters_, 1803.

Having experienced his own great difficulties in acquiring the
principles of the English grammar, in 1804 he gave a course of
lectures on that subject. These lectures, which occupied about two
hours, were delivered on four evenings of the week, two being allotted
to each sex separately. A year completed the course of instruction,
and for this each pupil paid thirty shillings. He was able to
illustrate his lectures very happily with anecdote and from his own
experience, so as to render the barren study of grammar interesting
and entertaining. Though never able to write first-class English, and
often clumsy in diction, yet he was studiously correct in grammar, if
often awkward in construction of a sentence.

In the year 1805 he gave up his cobbling business and devoted himself
entirely to his pen. Seeing his value as a polemic writer in favour of
the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, several of the clergy of
Cornwall were anxious that he should join the Church; but his early
association with Dissent, and his ignorance of Catholic doctrine,
induced him to remain where he was in the Methodist Connection.

He next wrote an _Essay on the Being and Attributes of the Deity_, and
a reply to Thomas Prout, _On the Divinity of Christ and the Eternal
Sonship_. All this was very well in its way at the time, but is now so
much waste paper, used only for covering jampots.

In 1814 Samuel Drew undertook his most voluminous work, the _History
of Cornwall_, one which he was wholly unqualified to undertake, as he
had no familiarity with the MS. material on which that history should
be based; and it was a mere compilation from already printed matter.

In 1819 Samuel Drew removed to Liverpool, where he acted as local
preacher in the Methodist meeting-houses. To this period belongs the
epigram written on him by Dr. Clarke:--

          Long was the man, and long was his hair,
          And long was the coat which this long man did wear.

He became editor of the _Imperial Magazine_, and after a short while
in Liverpool, migrated to London.

In 1828 he lost his wife. "When my wife died," he was wont to say, "my
earthly sun set for ever."

In 1833 he returned to Cornwall, and died at Helston on March 29th, at
the age of sixty-eight.

Slender in form, with a head remarkably small for the length of his
limbs, his stature exceeded the common height. He had a searching and
intelligent eye, was somewhat uncouth in his movements, but was full
of energy of mind and body. He sometimes wrote verses, which only a
very partial biographer would call poetry. But what he prided himself
on being was not a poet, but a metaphysician.

The story goes that S. Augustine was walking one day by the seashore,
musing on the attributes of God and on the demonstration of the Divine
nature, when he saw a child digging a hole in the sand, and then with
a fan-shell ladling the sea-water into the hole it had made.

S. Augustine paused and asked, "My child, what are you about?"

"I am going to empty the sea into this hole," replied the child.

Then S. Augustine entered into himself and thought: "Can a man with
the limited capacity of his brain embrace the infinity of the Divine
nature and perfections? Is it not like emptying the sea into a tiny
hole to try to effect this?"

Drew's life labours were just doing this. There was a certain amount
of intellectual ingenuity in his arguments, but that was all. Not a
leaf that he wrote is of any permanent value, but that it was of value
at the time when he wrote I should be the last to deny.

There is abundant material for a life of Samuel Drew. Not only may it
be found in the life by his son mentioned at the head of this article,
and in his own biographical memoir given by R. Polwhele, but his son
J. H. Drew also published a second memoir, under the title _Samuel
Drew, M. A., the Self-Taught Cornishman; A Life Lesson_, published in
1861; also in _Lives of the Illustrious_, by J. P. Edwards, 1852; and
Mr. Smiles has devoted some pages to him in _Self-Help_, 1866. The
portrait of Samuel Drew is given as frontispiece to the first volume
of _The Imperial Magazine_, 1819, and also to the _Life_ by his son.


[25] Samuel Drew says at the age of five, but this was a slip of his
pen or a mistake of the printer; his mother died in 1774.

                          THE SIEGE OF SKEWIS

Skewis is a small, not very interesting farmhouse in itself, on the
high road from Camborne to Helston, near the station of Nancegollan.
Although at a distance of five miles from Tregonning Hill, that height
crowned by a stone camp, and with two camps on its slopes, seems to
dominate it. The country around is bleak and treeless except in dips,
and where are the grounds of Clowance. To the north is the camp of
Tregeare, where was once seated an ancient family of the same name,
which died out in the reign of William of Orange with Richard
Tregeare, sheriff of Cornwall. Skewis had been for some time the
patrimony of a succession of yeoman proprietors of the name of Rogers.

In 1734 there were two brothers of that name sons of the owner of
Skewis. On their father's death the eldest succeeded to the property,
and the younger, Henry, carried on the trade of pewterer in Helston.
Both were married, but the elder had no children, whereas Henry had

On the death of the elder brother, his widow, whose maiden name had
been Millett, produced a will whereby her late husband had bequeathed
all his freehold property to her. This greatly exasperated Henry, who
considered that as Skewis had belonged to the Rogers family for many
generations, he was entitled to it, and he averred that the will had
been wrung from his dying brother by the importunity of the wife when
he was feeble in mind as well as body. Forthwith, in place of
disputing the will when proved, he took forcible possession of the
house, and turned out of it some female servants left in charge of it
whilst his sister-in-law was from home.


The whole neighbourhood was satisfied that great wrong had been done
to Henry Rogers, and was loud in its condemnation of the widow.

When Mrs. Rogers found herself forcibly dispossessed she appealed to
the law, and judgment was given against Henry.

Stephen Tillie was under-sheriff, and he received orders to eject
Rogers, and place Anne, the widow, in possession. On June 18th, 1734, he
accordingly went to Skewis to serve the summons. But Henry stood at an
upper window armed with a gun, and dared the under-sheriff to approach.
Tillie shouted to him that he had the King's writ and must have
possession, but assured him that he would not meddle with his person.

By this time a crowd of some two or three hundred persons had
assembled, all sympathizers with Henry Rogers, and murmuring their
disapproval of the ejectment.

Henry, from his window, called out that the Lord Chancellor had made
an unjust decree.

Tillie replied that Henry Rogers might appeal against the decision,
but surrender the house he must.

Rogers, in reply, fired, and, as the under-sheriff stated, "burned his
wig and singed his face."

This so frightened Tillie that he withdrew, and sent to Helston for
some soldiers; and Captain Sadler, then in charge of the military
there, despatched some to his aid.

So reinforced, on the morrow Tillie went again to Skewis, and found
the door shut, and a hole cut in it, with a gun-barrel protruding.

Again the under-sheriff demanded admittance, and for reply the gun was
fired, and a bailiff named William Carpenter was mortally wounded.
Another gun was then discharged, and Hatch, the under-sheriff's servant,
was struck. Anne Rogers, the plaintiff, was in the rear animating the
soldiers against the occupants of the house. Mrs. Henry Rogers was
within, loading and serving out the guns to her husband and to his
servant John Street. A soldier was shot in the groin, and two other men
were wounded. Thereupon the soldiers fired upon the house, and though
the bullets flew in at the window, none of those within were hurt.

Woolsten, the soldier shot in the groin, was taken to the rear, where he
died. A bullet whizzed through Stephen Tillie's hat. Discretion is the
better part of valour. Accordingly the under-sheriff gave orders to beat
a retreat, and like the King of France's men who marched up a hill and
then marched down again, Tillie and his posse of bailiffs and military
retired from the battlefield, carrying their dead and wounded, without
having effected an entry. In a kindly spirit Rogers offered Tillie a
dram, but the under-sheriff's courage was too much quailed to allow him
to draw near enough to accept the hospitable offer.

Indeed, it took Mr. Tillie nine months to gather up sufficient courage
to resume the attack, and then not till he had ordered up cannon from
Pendennis Castle. On the former occasion there had been at least ten
soldiers under the command of an officer. Within the house were only
Henry Rogers, his wife, his small children, and his servant-man.

On March 16th, in the year following, another party was sent to
apprehend Rogers and take possession of the house. On this occasion,
apparently Mr. Stephen Tillie did not put in his appearance, but left
the duty to be discharged by the constables. Henry Rogers was prepared
for them, and fired, when one named Andrew Willis, alias Tubby, was
shot dead. Rogers then, with the utmost coolness, came out of the door
and walked round the man he had shot, and again on this occasion
offered the besiegers a drink. The besiegers then retired, but not
till a second man had been shot.

During the night Henry Rogers effected his escape. He travelled on foot
to Salisbury, with the intention of making his case known to the King.

Sir John S. Aubyn, of Clowance, now took an active part in
endeavouring to secure the fugitive, and handbills descriptive of
Rogers were circulated along the road to London, whither it was known
he was making his way. Near Salisbury a postboy, driving homewards a
return post-chaise, was accosted by a stout man walking with a gun in
his hand, who requested to be given a lift. The boy drove him to the
inn, where he procured a bed; but the circumstances and description
had excited strong suspicion, and he was secured in his sleep. The
prisoner was removed to Cornwall. He and his man Street were tried at
the assizes at Launceston on August 1st, 1735, were both found guilty
of murder, and were both hanged.

It is not possible to withhold sympathy from both men, especially
Street, who acted on the belief that it was his duty to be true to his
master, and to defend him and his property to the utmost.

Mr. Davies Gilbert gives the minutes of an interesting conversation he
had with the son of Henry Rogers who was hanged.

"On the 30th October, 1812, I called on Mr. Henry Rogers, formerly a
saddler at Penzance, but then residing there in great poverty, being
supported by a small allowance from a club, and by half a crown a week
given him by the Corporation, nominally for yielding up the possession
of a house, but in truth to prevent his becoming a common pauper.

"Mr. Henry Rogers was then eighty-four years of age and remembered the
unfortunate transactions at Skewis perfectly well; he was between
seven and eight years old at the time. He recollected going out with
his father into the court after there had been some firing. His father
had a gun in his hand, and inquired what they wanted. On this his
father was fired at, and had a snuff-box and powder-horn broken in his
pocket by a ball, whilst he stood on the other side.

"He recollected that whilst he was in bed, several balls came in
through the windows of the room, and after striking the wall rolled
about on the floor.

"One brother and a sister, who were in the house, went out to inquire
what was wanted of their father, and they were not permitted to return.

"On the last night, no one remained in the house but his father,
himself, and the servant-maid. In the middle of the night they all
went out, and got some distance from the house. In crossing a field,
however, they were met by two soldiers, who inquired their business.
The maid answered that they were looking for a cow, when they were
permitted to proceed. The soldiers had their arms, and his father had
his gun. The maid and himself were left at a farmhouse in the
neighbourhood, and Mr. Rogers proceeded on his way towards London."

The authorities for the story of the siege of Skewis are: Richard
Hooker's _Weekly Miscellany_, 9 August, 1735; George Harris's _Life of
Lord Chancellor Hardwick_, I, pp. 295-303; Caulfield's _Portraits of
Remarkable Persons_, 1813; and Davies Gilbert's _Parochial History of

                        THE VOYAGE OF JOHN SANDS

Lanarth, in the parish of S. Keverne, in the Lizard district, was for
many generations the residence of the family of Sands. The family was
not represented at the Heralds' Visitation of 1620, and did not record
its arms and pedigree, but was nevertheless regarded in the eighteenth
century as "gentle," and was united to other families of respectability.

Sampson Sands, who died in 1696, was married to Jane, daughter of John
Coode, of Breage, but he died without issue and left his estate to his
brother's son, John Sands, married to a daughter of Hamley, of S. Neot.

This John Sands, one afternoon in January, 1702-3, and seven other
persons, men and women, of S. Keverne, were returning from Falmouth in
a fishing boat of about five tons burden, without deck or covering,
after having done their marketing at a fair there.

When they had got to sea, about a league from the mouth of the Fal and
about two leagues off S. Keverne, suddenly there rose a storm of wind
from the west, and the sea rising and rolling in great crested waves
round the terrible points of the Manacles, the rowers were unable to
make headway against it. If they could not reach Porthoustock, for which
they were bound, they hoped at least to run into Porthallow. But even
this they were unable to effect. The fury of the blast and the great
masses of water heaved against the little boat made progress impossible,
and they resolved on running back into Falmouth harbour. Accordingly the
vessel was turned, but the raging wind and sea and the tide setting out
from the land swept them from the coast. Moreover, the short winter day
was closing in. The sun went down behind a wild and inky bank of cloud,
and speedily night set in dark and terrible. The unfortunate boatload of
marketers could do no more than invoke God's protection, and bail out
the water as fast as it poured over the gunwale. The oars were shipped,
and the boatmen declared that there was nothing to be done but to let
loose the helm and allow the boat to drive.

The night was cold as well as tempestuous. On the blast of the wind
came down torrents of rain. The men and women alike laboured hard to
cast out of the boat the water that poured in. For sixteen hours
darkness lasted. How may each have said with Gonzalo: "Now would I
give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long
heath, brown furze, anything. I would fain die a dry death." At length
there rose a raw light in the south-east, against which the billows
stood up black as ink. As the light grew, those in the boat found
themselves encircled with sea, out of sight of land, and with the
clouds scudding overhead, as if running a race. The storm continued
all that day and the night following. Not only so, but also the third
day and night the battle with the influx of water continued. There was
no sleep for any; all had to fight the water for their lives. Happily
they were not starving, for Mr. Sands had taken over to Falmouth in
the boat a woman, the taverner's wife of the "Three Tuns," who had
brought with her from Falmouth a shilling's worth of bread and three
or four gallons of brandy. On this they subsisted.

On the fourth day in the morning, the gale abated, and at ten o'clock
land was descried. Forthwith the rowers bent to their oars and steered
towards it. When the whole party landed they discovered that they had
been wafted over to the coast of Normandy; and they found themselves
on French soil at the time that Queen Anne was engaged in war with
Louis XIV. Marlborough had been in the Netherlands, and had reduced
Venloo, Ruremonde, and the citadel of Liége. At sea Rooke had captured
six vessels and sunk thirteen at Vigo, and Admiral Benbow had done
wonders against a French fleet in the West Indies. The French were
sore and irritated. So soon as Mr. Sands and his little party stepped
on shore they were encountered by several men armed, who demanded who
they were. They replied that they were English. One of the party
stopping them understood our language, and inquired the occasion of
these visitors landing on the enemy's shores, and by what expedient
they had come over. They replied, and gave an account of their
perilous voyage of three nights and four days.

Upon this a gentleman of the company asked Mr. Sands from what part of
England he came, and when he replied that they were all from Cornwall,
the same gentleman inquired further whether the leader of the party
was named Sands; to this he replied, in some surprise, that he was.

"Then, monsieur," said the Frenchman, "I know you, and I can well
remember your kindness and hospitality when I was wrecked off the
Lizard some years ago. Then you received me into your house, and
entertained me most generously."

This was an unexpected and welcome encounter. The gentleman then
required the party to surrender what arms and money they had with
them, and Mr. Sands handed over forty guineas that he had received at
Falmouth for pilchards just before he was driven out to sea in the
boat. He and his companions were required to yield themselves
prisoners of war; and Mr. Sands was received into the gentleman's
home. All next day were brought before a magistrate and examined, and
orders were given that they should not be kept in custody as prisoners
of war, but should be permitted to go about at liberty, and beg alms
of the people. And the kind-hearted Normandy peasants and gentlemen
showed them great favour, and supplied all their pressing wants.

The news of the event not only flew over the country, but reached the
ears of the King, who thereupon ordered that the whole party should be
sent back to England by the first transport ship for prisoners of war;
which happened soon after.

Mr. Sands took leave of his kind host in whose house he had been
hospitably entertained, and begged him to accept the forty guineas as
some acknowledgment of his kindness. This, however, the gentleman
refused to do, saying that he would take nothing at his hands, since God
in such a wonderful manner had preserved him and his companions from the
perils of the deep. Then Mr. Sands pressed five guineas on the wife of
his host, begging her with that sum to purchase something which might
remind her of him and his party; and this she reluctantly received.

So they parted, and all went on board a transport ship and were safely
landed at Portsmouth; and in eight weeks after their departure from
England returned to S. Keverne, to the great joy and surprise of
their friends and relations, who had concluded that all of them had
been drowned.

The Rev. Sampson Sandys was grandson of the gentleman who was carried
over to France, as described. He lived at Lanarth to a great age. His
daughter Eleanor married Admiral James Kempthorne, R.N. He was
succeeded at Lanarth by his nephew, William Sandys, a colonel in the
army of the East India Company, who rebuilt the house. It must be
added that the original name of the family was not Sandys but Sands,
and that it assumed the former name as more euphonious and as
supposing a connection which, however, has not been proved to exist,
with Lord Sandys of The Vine, and Ombersley, Worcestershire, and the
Cumberland family of Graythwaite. At the same time, it assumed the
arms of the same distinguished family, _or_, a fesse dancetté between
three crosses crosslet fichée _gules_.

                            CHARLES INCLEDON

This, one of the sweetest tenor singers England has produced, was born
at S. Keverne in Cornwall, in 1764, and was the son of a petty local
surgeon and apothecary practising there.

At the age of seven he was introduced by Mr. Snow, one of the minor
canons of Exeter Cathedral, to the organist, then named Langdon, and he
afterwards became the pupil of William Jackson the composer, who was for
many years organist of the cathedral. Jackson took great notice of the
boy, and made him sing his own compositions at concerts in the city. On
one occasion, when the assizes were on at Exeter, Judge Nares attended
in state at the morning service in the cathedral, when Incledon sang the
solo "Let my soul love," in the anthem, "Let my complaint come before
Thee, O Lord," with such effect and beauty that the tears rolled down
the judge's cheeks, and at the conclusion of Divine service he sent for
the boy and presented him with five guineas.

Incledon was wont, on summer evenings, to seat himself on a rail in
the cathedral close and sing, to the delight of an audience that
always collected as soon as his bird-like voice was heard. On one such
occasion he was singing the song "When I was a shepherd's maid," from
_The Padlock_, when a gentleman in regimentals stepped forward and
asked his name. Next day this officer, the Hon. Mr. Trevor, called on
Jackson and asked permission to take the lad with him to Torquay,
where he was going to visit Commodore Walsingham of the _Thunderer_,
and he desired to give his friend and all on board ship the pleasure
of hearing Incledon sing. Permission was accorded, and the boy was on
board the vessel for three days, and sang several nautical and other
songs, beginning with "Blow high, blow low." The Commodore was so
delighted that he wrote to Incledon's parents and asked that the lad
might be placed under him in the vessel; but the mother declined, and
well was it that she did, for the _Thunderer_ went down in a storm in
the West Indies, and all hands on board were lost.

The kind reception accorded to Charles Incledon on board induced him
to harbour the resolution to become a sailor, and accompanied by a
fellow chorister, and carrying a bundle of linen, he ran away, hoping
to reach Plymouth; but he was overtaken and brought back, and as a
punishment was not allowed to wear his surplice in choir for a week.

But when his voice broke, then he was allowed to follow his bent, and he
embarked on board the _Formidable_ under Captain Stanton, and remained
in her two years, till, disabled by a wound, he was left at Plymouth,
and on his recovery was placed in a vessel commanded by Lord Harvey,
afterwards Earl of Bristol. With this nobleman he sailed to Sta. Lucia,
where the whole fleet was at anchor. Whilst there, Lord Harvey gave a
dinner on board to his fellow commanders and other officers. At the same
time the sailors before the mast enjoyed themselves with grog and songs.
When Incledon sang, the lieutenant on deck ran to the cabin where the
officers were regaling themselves, and told them that they had a
nightingale on board, and would do well to hear it sing. Lord Harvey at
once proceeded to the quarter-deck, heard Incledon sing the fine old
traditional ballad, "'Twas Thursday in the Morn," and was so impressed
that he bade him at once change his apparel and come to the state cabin.
He did so and sang there "The Fight of the Monmouth and Foudroyant,"
"Rule Britannia," and some of Jackson's favourite canzonets. The
officers applauded enthusiastically, and jocularly appointed him Singer
to the British Fleet. He was released from the performance of manual
duty, and sent for to assist at every entertainment that succeeded. He
rose high in the favour of Admiral Pigot, the Commander-in-Chief, and
made numerous friends and patrons.


     Singleton pinx.                             J. Thomson Sculp.

                       M^r. Incledon, as Macheath

                 But now again, my spirits sink,
                 I'll raise them high with wine. [Drinks]
                                    Beggars Opera Act 3 Scene 3

                 Engraved for the Theatrical Inquisitor

     London Published Nov^r. 1^{st}. 1816, by C. Chapple Pall Mall.

In 1782 Incledon was in the engagement between the English fleet under
Admiral Sir George Bridges, afterwards Lord Rodney, and the French
fleet commanded by the Count de Grasse, when the former gained a
complete victory.

At the expiration of the war Incledon was discharged at Chatham and
proceeded to London, with strong recommendations from Lord Mulgrave
and others to Mr. Colman of the Haymarket Theatre. Colman received him
coldly, and gave him no hopes of an engagement. Then he went to
Southampton, where he obtained an engagement at ten shillings and
sixpence a week. But soon after, owing to some dispute, he left the
company and went to Salisbury with a travelling company, and fell into
great poverty and misery. However, he succeeded in obtaining an
engagement at Bath with Mr. Palmer, the well-known theatrical manager,
and the man who introduced mail-coaches into England. Here he received
thirty shillings a week. He attracted the attention of Ranzzini, the
arbiter of the musical entertainments at Bath; and this able man gave
him valuable instruction in scientific singing. One evening, hearing
Incledon sing Handel's "Total Eclipse," the Italian was so delighted
that, catching hold of his hand, he left the piano, and leading him to
the front of the platform exclaimed, "Ladies an jentleman, dis is my

Thomas Harris, hearing him at Bath, proposed that he should sing and
act at Covent Garden Theatre, and engaged him for three years at six,
seven, and eight pounds a week. Hardly was this agreement made, when
Linley, of Drury Lane, offered him twelve pounds a week, and to retain
him for five years. But, although only a verbal agreement had been
entered into with Harris, Incledon, to his honour, rejected the offer
of Linley. It was unfortunate in more ways than one, as he would have
profited by Linley's exquisite taste and instruction, as well as have
earned nearly double what Harris offered. Moreover, he was very badly
treated at Covent Garden, and often not given parts in which he could
do himself justice. In 1809 came a rupture, and the managers dismissed
him, and Incledon quitted London on a provincial tour. After two years
he was re-engaged by Harris, at a salary of seventeen pounds a week,
for a term of five years; but he stipulated that he should be given
such rôles as suited him. This engagement was not fulfilled, and a
fresh quarrel ensued that led to a final rupture at the end of three
years, and he quitted Covent Garden for ever, refusing even to sing in
the Oratorios performed there during Lent.

He had made his first appearance at Covent Garden in October, 1790, as
Dermont in _The Poor Soldier_, by Shield. His vocal endowments were
certainly great; he had a voice of uncommon power and sweetness, both
in the natural and falsetto. The former was from A to G, a compass of
about fourteen notes; the latter he could use from D to E or even F,
or about ten notes. His natural voice was full and open, and of such
ductility, that when he sang _pianissimo_ it retained its original
quality. His falsetto was rich, sweet, and brilliant, and totally
unlike the other. He could use it with facility, and execute in it
ornaments of a certain class with volubility and sweetness. His shake
was good, and his intonation much more correct than is common to
singers so imperfectly educated. But he never quite got over his
West-country pronunciation. His strong point was the ballad, and that
not the modern sentimental composition, but of the robust old school.
When Ranzzini first heard him at Bath, rolling his voice upwards like
a surge of the sea, till, touching the top note, it expired in
sweetness, he exclaimed in rapture, "_Corpo di Dio!_ it was ver' lucky
dere vas some roof above or you would be heard by de angels in Heaven,
and make dem jealous."

Incledon himself used to tell a story of the effect he produced upon
Mrs. Siddons: "She paid me one of the finest compliments I ever
received. I sang 'The Storm' after dinner; she cried and sobbed like a
child. Taking both my hands, she said: 'All that I and my brother ever
did is nothing to the effect you produce.'"

"I remember," says William Robson, in _The Old Playgoer_, "when the
élite of taste and science and literature were assembled to pay the
well-deserved compliment of a dinner to John Kemble, and to present
him with a handsome piece of plate on his retirement, Incledon sang,
when requested, his best song, 'The Storm.' The effect was sublime,
the silence holy, the feeling intense; and while Talma was recovering
from his astonishment, Kemble placed his hand on the arm of the great
French actor, and said in an agitated, emphatic, and proud tone,
'_That_ is an English singer.'" Marsden adds that Talma jumped up from
his seat and embraced him.

Incledon sang with great feeling, and in "The Storm" he was able to
throw his whole heart into the ballad, for not only had he encountered
many a storm at sea, but he had been shipwrecked on a passage from
Liverpool to Dublin, on the bar. Some of those on board were lost, but
he saved himself and his wife by drawing her up to the round-top and
lashing her and himself to it. From this perilous position, after a
duration of several hours, they were rescued by some fishermen who saw
the wreck from the shore.

Incledon belonged in town to "The Glee Club," composed of Shield,
Bannister, Dignum, himself, and one or two others. It met on Sunday
evenings during the season at the Garrick Coffee House, in Bow Street,
once a fortnight. At one of these little gatherings Incledon was
amusingly hoaxed. Though an admirable singer, he was a shockingly bad
actor. When he came in one of the party informed him that an intended
musical performance for a charitable purpose, in which he, Incledon,
was to sing, had been abandoned, on account of the Bishop of London
objecting to an actor performing in church. Incledon, who was an
extremely irritable man, broke out in a violent strain, conceiving the
word _actor_ to have been employed as a term of reproach, and
addressing himself to Bannister, said with great vehemence, "There,
Charles, do you hear that?" "Why," said Bannister, "if I were you, I'd
make his lordship _prove his words_."

Incledon one day was at Tattersall's, when Suett, the actor, also
happened to be there, and asked him whether he had come to buy a
horse. "Yes," said Charles, "I have. I must ride, it is good for my
health. But why are you here, Dickey? Do you think that you know the
difference between a horse and an ass?"

"Oh, yes," replied the comedian. "If you were among a thousand horses,
I would know you immediately."

There was a public-house in Bow Street called "The Brown Bear," which
was famous for a compound liquor, a mixture of beer, eggs, sugar, and
brandy. Incledon and Jack Johnstone were partial to this, and
frequently indulged themselves with it during the evening at the
theatre, and, as a jest, occasionally obtained it in the following
manner. When there happened to be several ladies of the theatre in the
green-room, they took that opportunity to represent to them the hard
case of the widow of a provincial actor, left with her children in
great distress, and to solicit from them a few shillings to enable
them to purchase some _flannel_ during that inclement season. Having
obtained contributions, they despatched the dresser to "The Brown
Bear" for a quart of egg-hot, and had the modesty not to drink it all
themselves, but to present a glass to each of the females who had
subscribed, requesting them to drink to the health of the widow and
the flannel. When Incledon and Johnstone had practised this trick
several times, Quick, the comedian of the same theatre, bribed the
dresser to infuse into the mixture a dose of ipecacuanha, and that
brought the joke to an end. But the mixture thenceforth, without the
last ingredient, was popularly called Flannel.

Incledon was a notoriously vain man. Vanity was his besetting sin. "In
pronouncing his own name," says Mr. Matthews, "he believed he
described all that was admirable in human nature. It would happen,
however, that this perpetual veneration of self laid him open to many
effects which, to any man less securely locked and bolted in his own
conceit, would have opened the door to his understanding. But he had
no room there for other than what it naturally contained; and the bump
of content was all-sufficient to fill the otherwise aching void.
Incledon called himself the 'English Ballad Singer' _per se_; a
distinction he would not have exchanged for the highest in the realm
of talent. Among many self-deceptions arising out of his one great
foible, he was impressed with the belief that he was a reading man."

One day Matthews found him in his house deep in study. Incledon looked
up at his visitor, and said, "My dear Matthews, I'm improving my mind.
I'm reading a book that should be in the hands of every father and

"What is it, Charles?" asked Matthews, and leaning over him saw that
it was a volume of the _Newgate Calendar_!

It had become a habit, during a fagging run of a new opera at Covent
Garden Theatre one season, for certain performers to club a batch or so
of Madeira, of which they took a glass to their dressing-rooms. Incledon
was continually finding fault with the quality, and praising up his own
private stock of the same wine. At the close of the season, his brother
actors had become weary of Incledon's grumbling over the Madeira, which
they knew to be excellent. One night a fellow-actor, seeing a large key
lying upon Incledon's dressing-table, labelled "_Cellar_," and Incledon
happening at the time to be engaged on the stage till the end of the
opera, despatched the dresser to Brompton Crescent with the key, with a
request to Mrs. Incledon from her husband that she would send one dozen
of his best Madeira by the bearer. Mrs. Incledon, wholly unsuspicious
of any trick, did so. When Incledon left the stage, the confederates
told him that they had got fresh and very first-rate Madeira now, as he
had disliked what had been provided before. Incledon took a glass, made
a wry face, took another, and said, "Beastly stuff! Never in my life
tasted such cheap, vile stuff."

"Sorry, Incledon, you do not appreciate _your own_ Madeira."

Incledon drank pretty heavily, but did not get drunk. Here is a bill
for a slight evening collation at the Orange Coffee House, for him and
two friends:

                                       £   _s._   _d._
  Mr. Shield, Welsh Rabbit             0    1      0
  "   2 glasses of Brandy and water    0    2      0
  Mr. Parke, Welsh Rabbit              0    1      0
  "   2 glasses of Brandy and water    0    2      0
  Mr. Incledon, Welsh Rabbit           0    1      0
  "   2 bottles of Madeira             1    4      0

Parke, in his _Musical Memoirs_, relates an instance of Incledon's
selfishness. He says of him that he was a singular compound of
contrarieties, amongst which frugality and extravagance were
conspicuous. "Mr. Shield the composer, Incledon, and I, lived for many
years a good deal together. On one occasion Shield and myself dined
with Incledon at his house in Brompton in the month of February. When
I had arrived there, Incledon said to me, 'Bill, do you like ducks?'
Conceiving, from the snow lying on the ground, that he meant wild
ones, I replied, 'Yes, I like a good wild duck very well.' 'D---- wild
ducks!' said he: 'I mean tame ducks, my boy'; adding, 'I bought a
couple in town for which I gave eighteen shillings.' Soon afterwards a
letter arrived, announcing that Mr. Raymond, the stage-manager of
Drury Lane Theatre, who was to have been of the party, could not come;
in consequence of which, I presume, only one duck was placed on the
dinner table, with some roast beef, etc. When Mrs. Incledon (who, as
well as her husband, was fond of good living) had carved the duck,
like a good wife she helped her husband to the breast part and to one
of the wings, taking at the same time the other wing to herself,
reserving for Shield and me the two legs and the back. Shield, who
looked a little awkward at this specimen of selfishness and
ill-manners, at first refused the limb offered to him, and I had
declined taking the other: there appeared to be but a poor prospect of
the legs walking off, till Shield relented and took one, and Incledon
the other, so that they were speedily out of sight. The back, however,
remained behind, and afforded a titbit for the servants."

On another occasion he was giving a dinner party, and a dish was
brought to table heaped up, apparently, with fresh herrings. All the
company, except Incledon and his wife, partook of these fish; some
were helped a second time. When the herrings had been cleared away,
there appeared beneath one fine white fish. "My dear," said Incledon,
"what can that be?" "I believe it is a John Dory, Charles."

Some of the John Dory was offered to the company, but they had eaten
enough fish, and so Incledon and his wife ate the John Dory between

Incledon, whilst very willing to hoax others, was easily taken in
himself. As his dependence was entirely on his voice, he was very
apprehensive of catching cold, which, in consequence, rendered him the
occasional dupe of quackery.

During Mr. Kemble's management of Covent Garden Theatre, one of the
wags among his fellow-actors informed him that a patent lozenge had
just been invented and sold only at a jeweller's in Bond Street, which
was an infallible cure for hoarseness. In order that he might the more
readily take the bait, he was told that Kemble made frequent use of
it. Incledon immediately inquired of the great actor, who very gravely
answered, "Oh, yes, Charles; the patent lozenge is an admirable thing.
I have derived the greatest benefit from it, when I kept it in my
mouth all night."

Incledon accordingly went to Bond Street to purchase the valuable
lozenge, and the man, who had been previously instructed, gave him a
small pebble in a pill-box. Incledon arrived at the theatre next day
with the stone in his mouth and spitting frequently. He was, of
course, asked if the patent lozenge did him any good. "Yes," replied
he, spitting; "I kept it in my mouth (spitting) all night, and
(spitting again) it has this remarkable property, that it does not
dissolve," and he spat again. The wag requested to see it, and the
production of the pebble provoked a general laugh.

"Why, Charles," said Kemble, "this is a stone! I meant a patent
lozenge. You should have gone to an apothecary's and not to a
jeweller's for it."

Incledon, when he found that he was hoaxed, was full of wrath; his
anger, however, soon subsided.

"Well," said he, "I can't grumble, for an apothecary who pretended to
have supplied the jeweller with the lozenge, and who has received from
me a letter belauding the nostrum, has undertaken in return to dispose
of forty pounds' worth of tickets for my benefit."

On the occasion of this, or some other benefit, he could not refrain
from going every morning to the box-office to see how many places
were taken; and a week before the last, observing the names to be few
besides those of his own private friends, he said to the box-keeper,
Brandon, "D---- it, Jem, if the nobility don't come forward, I shall
cut but a poor figure this time."

"Don't be afraid," said Brandon; "I dare say we shall do a good deal
for you to-day."

"I hope so," replied Incledon, "and as I go home to dinner I will look
in again."

Incledon, who was not very familiar with _Debrett's Peerage_,
returning at five o'clock in the afternoon, hastened to the book, and
read aloud the following fictitious names, which Brandon, by way of a
joke, had put down in his absence: "The Marquis of Piccadilly," "The
Duke of Windsor."

"Ah, ha!" exclaimed Incledon, "that must be one of the Royal Family."

"Lord Highgate"--"The Bishop of Gravesend." "Well," said he to
Brandon, quite delighted, "if we get on as well to-morrow as we have
to-day, I shall have a number of distinguished titles present."

Parke says of him: "Amongst other singularities, Incledon was
restless, and could not stay long in a place. Having, with his wife,
dined at my house, in the evening, whilst the party were engaged at
cards, he absented himself for a considerable time; and, Mrs. Incledon
noticing it particularly, I was induced to go and look for him.
Tracing him by his voice, I found him in the kitchen, helping the
maids to pick parsley, which was preparing for supper."

Parke adds: "As a ballad singer he was unrivalled, and his manner of
singing sea songs, particularly Gay's 'Black-eyed Susan,' 'The Storm,'
by Alexander Stevens, and Shield's 'Heaving of the Lead,' can only be
appreciated by those who have heard him.

"Though he evinced a strong propensity to wine, he never appeared to
be intoxicated by it. Dining with a party at his house, where he had
just recovered from a very severe indisposition, and was, as he said,
advised by his physician to be very abstemious, he sometimes after
dinner, while his friends were drinking port wine, had a second black
bottle placed before him, which I conceived to contain some very light
beverage suited to his case, till he said to me in an under tone,
'Bill, take a glass of this,' pointing to his black bottle, which I
did, and found it to be Madeira."

During the summer Incledon made provincial tours, giving entertainments
moulded on those of Dibdin, and these were very successful financially.

After quitting Covent Garden he performed at concerts and in minor
theatres. In 1817 he sailed for America, where he was received with
great enthusiasm, and realized handsome profits.

His last appearance in London was under Ellison at Drury Lane in 1820,
and his last appearance on any stage was at Southampton, where he had
first appeared behind the footlights. This was on October 20th in the
same year. He resided towards the end of his days at Brighton, where
he was afflicted with a slight paralytic affliction, from the effects
of which he recovered; and in February, 1826, being at Worcester, he
experienced a second attack, which proved fatal, and he died on
February 14th in the sixty-eighth year of his age. His remains were
conveyed from Worcester to Highgate, where they were interred.

                         THE MURDER OF RICHARD

Richard Coryton, eldest son of Peter Coryton of West Newton Ferrers,
in the parish of S. Mellion, had married Ann, daughter of Richard
Coode, of Morval, and by her had three sons, Peter, Richard, and John.

Peter, the grandfather, died on 24th March, 1551, but his son Richard
died a violent death in a tragic manner in 1565. Peter, the younger
and heir apparent, was intent on marrying Jane, the daughter of John
Wrey, of Northrussell, but for some reason unexplained his father
Richard took a violent dislike to the proposed daughter-in-law, and
when his son persisted in desiring to have her as his wife, the father
flew into a violent passion and swore that if he took her he would
disinherit him of all the lands he could, and would give to him only a
younger son's portion, constituting Richard head of the family.

Peter remained firm--he was then in London at the Court, and the
father at once made ready to leave Newton Ferrers and take his journey
to London and disinherit his son if he found that the marriage was
still insisted on. But on the eve of his starting, as he was walking
in the grounds of Newton Ferrers, he was suddenly fallen upon by two
scoundrels named Bartlett and Baseley, who owed him a grudge over some
matter that is not mentioned, and they cut his throat.

Bartlett and Baseley were apprehended and brought to Launceston before
the sheriff, Mr. Trevanion, and were found guilty; but he could not
believe that they were revenging some private wrong, and as the matter
of dispute between father and son was well known, and it was known as
well that Richard was about to disinherit his eldest son, a strong
suspicion was entertained by Trevanion that the murder had been
committed at the instigation of the son, and he gave the men hopes of
a reprieve--if not of a pardon--if they would reveal the name of the
man who had urged them to commit this dreadful crime. He behaved, it
must be seen, in a most unfair manner, hinting his suspicions to the
two wretches and giving them no peace till they declared that they had
been set on by Mr. Peter Coryton to murder his father.

As Peter Coryton was in town, the two criminals were sent to Newgate
to be confronted with him there. Whether he was arrested on the charge
of having instigated the murder of his father does not appear, but it
is probable.

However, if that were the case, his detention was not for long, as
both murderers recanted when in London. The following curious deed of
"Evidence concerning the murder of Mr. Coryton" is preserved in
Pentillie Castle.

"To all true Xtian people to whom this present writing shall come, or
shall see, hear or read, Sir Richard Champion, Knt., Lord Mayor, and
the Aldermen of the City of London send greeting in our Lord God

"Forasmuch as among other, the great and manifold deeds and works of
piety and charity, the witnessing and declaration of the truth of all
matters in question, ambiguity or doubt is not to be accounted the
least, but rather as a choice virtue and means whereby the truth, tho'
many times suppressed for a season, doth the rather appear brought
forth into the sight and knowledge of men is with the choicest to be
embraced, extolled, and commended.

"We therefore, the said Lord Mayor and Aldermen, do signify and
declare unto all your honours and worships, unto whom it shall
appertain, and to every of the same, that the days of the date of
these presents hereunder written, there did appear and come personally
before us, the said Mayor and Aldermen, in the Queen's Majesty's
Court, holden before the said Lord Mayor and Aldermen, in the outer
chamber of the Guildhall of the said City, the Deponents hereunder
named, who, upon their own free will, without any manner of coercion
and constraint, upon their corporate oaths upon the holy evangelists
of Almighty God, then and there severally before us taken and made and
exactly examined by one of the clerks of the said Court, said and
deposed in all things as hereafter word for word ensueth.

"_John Philpott_, clerk, Parson of S. Michael in Cornhill of London,
aged 29 years or thereabout, deposed, sworn and examined, the day
hereunder written, saith and deposeth upon his oath that on the ninth
of November last, upon a Saturday, about four of the clock in the
afternoon, but what day of the week it was he doth not now
remember--this examinate was required by Mr. Howes, one of the
Sheriffs of London, and in the name of the other sheriff,[26] that he
would go unto Newgate, and there to examine one Rafe Bartlett,
prisoner within the same place, who was then very sick and like to
die, to the intent to understand of him whether one Peter Curryngton,
whom before he had accused for the murder of his own father, were
culpable therein or no. Whereupon this examinate went to the said gaol
of Newgate, and by the way he did meet with two ministers, the one
named Edward Wilkinson, and the other John Brown, whom he desired to
go with him, who went with him accordingly, and coming to the
aforesaid gaol of Newgate, he desired the keeper that they might talk
with the said Bartlett, and the said keeper went down with them into
the prison, and brought them unto him, and there finding him very sore
sick, persuaded with him, for that he was more like to die than live,
in discharge of his conscience, as he would answer before God, to
declare unto them whether that the aforesaid Peter Curryngton, whom he
had accused to be privy and procurer of him and one Baseley to do the
same murder were true Yea or No.

"Whereupon he confessed and said that he had most untruly accused the
said Peter Curryngton, for he was never privy, nor knew of it, but
that it was he himself and the said Baseley, without the knowledge of
any other, and declared the cause why they had so accused him was, for
that after they were found guilty for the same matter, the Sheriff of
Cornwall did examine them if there were any other privy or procuring
to the same murder; and they agreed together to the intent to preserve
their lives, or at the least to prolong the same, falsely to accuse
the said Peter Curryngton; and the same Bartlett showed himself very
sorry and repentant for his said accusation, saying, 'Think you that
Mr. Curryngton will forgive me?'

"And this examinate answered him, 'There is no doubt he will, for
otherwise he is not of God.' Wherewith he seemed to be satisfied. And
this examinate saith that the said Bartlett died within two or three
days after; and going from him up the stairs, he, the examinate and the
others were brought unto the aforesaid Baseley, who confessed and
declared unto them in everything the innocency of the said Peter
Curryngton, concerning the same murder, and that it was he and the said
Bartlett that committed the same without the knowledge or consent of any
other; and that they did accuse him for the purpose afore alleged, by
the said Bartlett, and more in effect this examinate cannot say.

"_Edward Wilkinson_ of London, Clerk, Parson of the parish church of
S. Antonine in London, aged 33 years or thereabout, deposed, sworn and
examined, the said day and year hereunder written, saith and deposeth
upon his oath, about November last, the exact time the examinate
remembereth not, he did meet one Mr. Philpott, parson of S. Michael in
Cornhill, in Cheapside, who desired this examinate that he would go
back with him to Newgate, who did so, and by the way as they went,
they met with Master Brown, a minister, who likewise went with them to
Newgate, and the deposition of the foresaid Mr. Philpott, being unto
him read, and he, well perusing and understanding the same, saith and
deposeth that all the matter declared and spoken by the said Bartlett,
as it is contained in the deposition of the said Master Philpott, is
very true in all things, and was spoken in the presence and hearing of
this examinate, and further, this examinate saith that the words
likewise spoken and declared by the said Baseley, named in the said
deposition of the said Master Philpott, are likewise very true, and
were in the presence and hearing of this examinate. And further, this
examinate saith that he did persuade and exhort the said Baseley,
saying unto him, 'Take good heed that you do not lie. You have already
murdered one, you have falsely accused another, and you seem to
slander the Sheriff (of Cornwall).' And the said Baseley answered,
'The truth is, Master Sheriff bade me devise some way to save myself,
and I said I could not tell how,--and he said the way (to do so) was
to accuse some other. And he examined me whether there was any one
privy or procuring the said murder, beside ourselves, saying unto me,
"You could not do it alone. There be divers of the Curryngtons. Was
there none of them privy or consenting to the same? You are best to
advise and consider yourself, for the telling the truth in accusation
of others, might be the way to save their (i.e. your own) lives."
Whereupon I returned to the said Bartlett and conferred with him, and
we did agree together falsely to accuse Peter Curryngton, for the
saving of our own lives'; which accusation was untrue, and that the
said Peter Curryngton was very ignorant and innocent of the same
murder; and that he was sorry and did repent that he had accused him
untruly. And more he cannot say.

"_Edmund Marner_, citizen of London and keeper of the Gaol of Newgate,
aged forty-five years or thereabout, deposed, etc. ... saith and
deposeth upon his oath that the 15th day of November last past, being
Saturday, John Philpott, clerk, etc., Edward Wilkinson and John Brown,
ministers, came to the gaol of Newgate from the Sheriff of London, by
a token, to this examinate, to speak with one Rafe Bartlett, prisoner
there, being very sore sick."

The deposition of the gaoler was merely a confirmation of what had
been deposed by the two previous witnesses.

"_William Margytte_, of London, Clerk, Reader of the Morning Prayer in
the Parish of S. Sepulchre, and Ordinary for the Bishop of London, of
the gaol of Newgate, aged forty years, deposed, sworn, and examined,
etc., that about September last past, one Richard Baseley, then being
prisoner in Newgate, and very sore sick, and like to die, did send for
this examinate, to speak with him, and this examinate coming unto him,
he said, 'This is the cause that I send for you. I am very sore sick,
and more like to die than to live, and I think I shall not escape this
sicknesse, and if I do, yet I must die for the law, for I and one of
my neighbours did murder Master Curryngton, which I do not much
repent. But the very cause that I sent for you is to be a means to
Peter Curryngton, his son, whom I have accused to be privy and
procuring of the same murder, that he would forgive me, for I have
falsely accused him. For as I trust to be saved by Christ, he is
utterly ignorant of the same murder, and there was none privy to the
same but he, the said Baseley himself, and the said Bartlett, who
committed the same.' And this examinate demanded of him why he did
accuse Peter Curryngton. And he said that the cause was that after
they were found guilty of the murder, Mr. Trevannyon, Sheriff of
Cornwall, came unto and examined him, as to who was privy to the
murder more than they; saying that they being so simple would not do
the same without assistance; saying further that if he would confess
the truth as to who helped or procured them to do the same, he would
cause his chain to be stricken off, and carry him home with him at
night, and would save his life, though it cost him (sum illegible),
and thereupon in hope of life he did accuse the said Peter Curryngton
falsely and wrongfully; and thereupon he said he would take his death.
And the examinate, persuading him and advising him to repent and be
sorry for the murder of the said Curryngton, calling to God heartily
for mercy and forgiveness of the same. Which in the end with much ado
he seemed to be sorry for ... and also the examinate went into the
same gaol at Newgate, to speak to Roll Bartlett, to understand whether
it were true what the said Baseley had confessed; who declared unto
the examinate, as he should answer before God, that Peter Curryngton
was never privy nor of consent to the murder of his father, and that
there was none privy or knew it but only he and the said Baseley; and
the cause why they did kill him was for that he had misused them many
ways, and also, they thought no man would be sorry for his death. And
this examinate demanded of him the cause wherefore he did accuse the
said Peter Curryngton, he answered, 'The fair promises of the Sheriff,
and to the interest to preserve their lives, or, at least, to prolong
them, was the only cause,' etc.

"In faith and testimony whereof we the said Mayor and Aldermen,--the
common seal of our office of Mayoralty of the said city, to these
presents, have caused to be put, written at the said city of London on
the 23rd day of May, 1566, in the eighth year of the reign of our most
gracious and benign Sovereign Lady Elizabeth, etc., etc."

It would appear that the murdered man had been not only a dragon in
his house, but also in the entire neighbourhood, oppressing his
tenants and disliked by the gentry. It is hard not to suspect that Sir
Hugh Trevanion of Carhayes, who was then Sheriff of Cornwall, bore a
personal grudge against Peter Coryton.

Peter, all obstacle to his marriage being removed, married the lady of
his choice, and by her had three sons and six daughters. He died the
13th August, 1603.

The murderer Baseley died in Newgate, but Bartlett was sent back to
Launceston and there hanged.

But this is not the "end of this shocking affair," for eighty years
after the murder, John Coryton, of Probus, laid claim to the estates
of the then John Coryton, of Newton Ferrers, on the plea that Peter
had forfeited all rights to the inheritance because he had murdered
his father.

    "To the Right Hon. Houses of Parliament, now sitting at Westminster.

    The Humble Petition of John Coryton of the parish of Probus, in the
    County of Cornwall, gent., a great sufferer for and in his Majesty's

Humbly sheweth--

That yo^r petitioner was and is the son of Scipio Coryton, and Scipio
was son of John, and John was son of Richard Coryton, Esq., of West
Newton Ferrers in the said county of Cornwall, who about eighty years
since was most barbarously murdered by two fellows who were maintained
by the said Richard Coryton, without any cause or hurt to them, and
that the said Richard having three sons, viz. Peter, the firstborn,
Richard the second, John the third, your petitioner's grandfather. The
said Peter his firstborn would have married with one Mr. Wrey's
daughter, to w^h his father would not consent, but threatened his said
son that if he should marry with her that he w^d disinherit him of all
the lands he could. And that he, the said Peter, his firstborn, should
have but a younger son's portion. The said Peter, his firstborn,
insisted in the same match by continuing his suit to her. Being at the
Court in London, his said father purposing his journey for London the
Thursday following, to effect his said purpose of disinheriting his
said son. The said Mr. Wrey living about those parts of West Newton
Ferrers. The Tuesday before walking in part of his said barton of
West Newton, was set upon by these two fellows (their names were
Bartley and Baselly) and cruelly murdered by cutting of his throat.
The fellows were taken and the one died in prison, or was made away
with, the other was brought to Launceston and there hanged without any
confession of who set them on. One of the said Mr. Wrey's sons (viz.)
Edmund, was seen at the place of execution with a black box under his
arm in the sight of the malefactor, who was cast down without any
confession. These murderers being gone, the said Peter married the
said Mr. Wrey's daughter, and entered as heir on his father's estate
with about £2000 per annum, his said brothers having nothing; he gave
a living to Richard, his said brother, during his life. But your
petitioner's grandfather, knowing of the wrong done him, would not
take his brother's small pittance, for he always said that he had
right to a greater part of the estate than he would give him. Your
petitioner's grandfather marrying a gentlewoman who had a small
fortune, went to law with his said brother for his part of the estate,
but being not able to contend with him by reason of his small ability
and the other's greatness, was forced to give over. And he continually
keeped all the estate to the impoverishing of your petitioner's
grandfather, and they that defended him. And your petitioner's father
being not able to contend with him by reason of his poverty, leaving
me, his son, in like case, being not able any other way to seek his
right, but by petitioning to your Honours; your petitioner being
impoverished and brought very low by following his Majesty's service
all along the war in England and Ireland, and with His Highness Prince
Rupert in France also, and other parts where your petitioner received
many cruel wounds and many imprisonments, which I forbare to relate
for burden and trouble to your Honours, your petitioner and his wife
being no longer able to subsist.

"These premises considered, your poor petitioner humbly begs your
Honours that you will be pleased to call John Coryton, Esq., of West
Newton Ferrers, the possessor of the said estates, before your
Honours; or where your Honours shall think fit, to show cause why your
petitioner hath not an inheritance of his said father's estate, which
hath been so long kept from him, and his said father, and your
petitioner shall pray, etc."

The pedigree was as follows:--

  Richard Coryton      =     Anne, dau. of Rich^d
  murdered 1565.       |      Coode of Morval.
                       |               |               |
     Jane        =  Peter Coryton.   Richard C.      John C.
  da. of John    |   d. 13 Aug.,      2nd son.       3rd son.
  Wrey, d. 1618. |     1602.                            |
                 |                                      |
                 |                                      |
         William C. = Eliz. dau. of Sir             Scipio C.
                    | John Chichester                  |
                    | of Rawleigh.                     |
                    |                                  |
         +----------+                                  |
         |                                             |
  Sir John Coryton    =  Anne, da. of J. Mills      John Coryton
  bp. July 24, 1621;  |  of Colebrook.              of Probus.
  bur. Aug. 23, 1680. |  bp. 29 Nov., 1620;
  Bart. 1661.         |  m. 27 Dec., 1643;
                      |  d. 27 Sept., 1677.

One little incident may be noted: Richard Coryton, who was murdered,
was one of twenty-four children.

John Coryton of Probus got nothing by his application.


[26] John Rivers and James Howes were sheriffs.

                         SIR JAMES TILLIE, KNT.

High above the Tamar where it is most tortuous, and commanding loop upon
loop of this beautiful river, with the blue bank of Dartmoor standing up
in the east as a rising thundercloud, stands a red-brick tower upon an
elevated platform, that is reached by a flight of stone steps.

On the east side of this tower is a recess in the thickness of the wall,
with stone benches, and at the back, high up, is a little window formed
of two slits, through which the interior can be seen only by putting one
foot on the bench and the other on a projecting corbel in the wall. What
is then revealed is an interior open to the sky, and with a statue of a
seated man, life size, opposite, in wig and lace steenkirk, one hand
resting on his knee and the other on the arm of his chair.

There is no door of admission into the tower; a doorway has been
bricked up. Formerly the tower consisted of two storeys, with a floor
above the square chamber in which is the statue, and a roof over the
upper apartment. But roof and floor have gone.

In the summer of 1907 the walled-up doorway had to be opened, so that
a large tree might be cut down that had grown in the midst of the
tower and threatened it with injury. No sooner was it bruited about
that access to the interior was to be had than crowds of visitors came
out from Plymouth and Devonport, expecting to be able to find within
some relics of Sir James Tillie, Bart., whose burial-place was the
lower chamber, where now is only to be seen his statue.

Hals says, the spelling modernized: "About the year 1712 Sir James
Tillie died, and, as I am informed, by his last will and testament
obliged his adopted heir, one Woolley, his sister's son, not only to
assume his name (having no legitimate issue), but that he should not
inter his body after death in the earth, but fasten it in the chair
where he died with wire--his hat, wig, rings, gloves, and best apparel
on, shoes and stockings, and surround the same with an oak chest, box,
or coffin, in which his books and papers should be laid, with pen and
ink also--and build for the reception thereof, in a certain field of
his lands, a walled vault or grot, to be arched with moorstone, in
which repository it should be laid without Christian burial; for that,
as he said but an hour before he died, in two years space he would be
at Pentillie again; over this vault his heir likewise was obliged to
build a fine chamber, and set up therein the picture of him, his lady,
and adopted heir, for ever; and at the end of this vault and chamber
to erect a spire or lofty monument of stone, from thence for
spectators to overlook the contiguous country, Plymouth Sound and
Harbour; all which, as I am told, is accordingly performed by his
heir, whose successors are obliged to repair the same for ever out of
his lands and rents, under penalty of losing both.

"However, I hear lately, notwithstanding this his promise of returning
in two years to Pentillie, that Sir James's body is eaten out with
worms, and his bones or skeleton fallen down to the ground from the
chair wherein it was seated, about four years after it was set up; his
wig, books, wearing apparel, also rotten in the box or chair where it
was first laid."

[Illustration: SIR JAMES TILLIE, KNT.]

The lower chamber, not underground, in which Sir James was seated was
not vaulted over as he directed. The portraits in the upper chamber
have been removed to Pentillie Castle, where they may now be seen.

But, as already intimated, the statue was erected where the body was,
and beneath it is the inscription:--

                        This Monument is erected
                               In Memory
                   S^{ir} James Tillie kn^t who dyed
                              15 of Nov^r
                            Anno Domini 1713
                  And in y^e 67^{th} year of his Age.

It is thought--but no evidence exists to show that it was so--that the
bones of Sir James were collected by Mary Jemima, the last of the
Tillie family and the heiress who carried Pentillie to the Coryton
family about 1770, and transferred to the churchyard of S. Mellion.
When the chamber was entered recently and the tree cut down and
eradicated, no traces of the dead man could be found.

Hals, in his MS. _History of Cornwall_, says: "Pentyley a hous and
church built by one Mr. James Tyley, son of ... in ye parish of S.
Keverne, labourer as I am inform'd." The father's name was John. "And
was placed by him a servant or horseman to S^{ir} John Coryton, Bart.,
the Elder, who afterwards by his assistance learning the inferiour
practice of the Lawe under an Atturney, became his Steward, in which
caracter by his Care and Industry he soon grew Rich, soe that he
marryed Sir Henry Vane's daughter; by whome he had a good fortune or
estate, but noe issue; at Length after the Death of his Master (1680)
he became a Guardian in Trust for his younger children, and Steward
to their elder Brother, Sir John, that marryed Chiverton, whereby he
augmented his wealth and fame to a greater pitch. When, soon after,
King James II came to the Crown, this gentleman by a great sume of
money and false representation of himselfe obtained the favour of
knighthood at his hands, but that Kinge some short while after beinge
inform'd that Mr. Tyley was at first but a Groome or Horseman to Sir
John Coryton, that he was no Gentleman of Blood or armes, and yet gave
for his Coat-armour the armes of Count Tillye of Germany, ordered the
Heraulds to enquire into this matter; who findinge this information
trew, by the King's order entered his Chamber at London, tooke downe
those arms, tore others in pieces, and fastened them all to Horse
tayles and drew them through the streets of London, to his perpetuall
Disgrace, and disgraced him from the dignity of that beinge, and
impos'd a fyne of £500 upon him for so doing, as I am inform'd--but
alas, maugre all those proceedings, after the death of his then
Master, Sir John Coryton the Younger, not without suspicion of being
poysoned, he soon marryed his Lady, with whome Common fame said he was
too familiar before, soe that he became possest of her goods and
chattels, and a great Joynture. Whereby he liveth in much pleasure and
comfort in this place, honour'd of some, lov'd of none; admiring
himself for the Bulk of his Riches and the Arts and Contrivances by
which he gott it--some of which were altogether unlawfull, witness his
steward, Mr. Elliott, being credited for a mint and coyning false
money for his use; who on notice thereof forsooke this Land, and fled
beyond the Seas, though the other Agent and Confederate, Cavals
Popjoye, indicted for the same crime of High Treason committed at
Saltash, was taken, tryed and found guilty and executed at Lanceston,
1695, at which tyme the writer of these Lynes was one of the Grand
Jury for the body of this County, that found those Bills--when William
Williams of Treworgy in Probus Esq. was sheriff, and John Waddon,
Esq., foreman of the Jury."

After this, written at a later date, comes the passage relative to the
burial arrangements of Sir James, already quoted.

With regard to the above statement, a few remarks may be made. Sir
John Coryton died in 1680, just after he had obtained a licence for
concluding a second marriage with Anne Wayte, of Acton, widow.

His son, Sir John, married Elizabeth, daughter and co-heiress of Sir
Richard Chiverton, Kt., Lord Mayor of London, and a wealthy skinner.
Sir James Tillie's first wife was Margaret, daughter of Sir Harry
Vane, the Parliamentarian, who was executed in 1662. Tillie was
knighted at Whitehall, 14th January, 1686-7, and he built Pentillie
Castle. In one of the quadrangles of the castle is a leaden statue of
the knight with flowing wig, a roll of papers in one hand like the
baton of a field-marshal, and with preternaturally short legs.

In Luttrell's _Brief Relation of State Affairs_ there is some mention
of the affair of the assumed arms. He says, under date November 26th,
1687: "Sir James Tillie of Cornwall was brought up upon an habeas
corpus, being committed by the Court of Chivalry for refusing to find
bail there, and was remanded.

"January 19th, 1687-8. The Court of Chivalry satt, and fined Sir James
Tilly £200 for his crime."

Hals, accordingly, was wrong in saying that he was fined £500.

Hals thinks (he does no more) that Sir James was mixed up in the
coining business. If he got rich by nefarious practices, it was
probably by filling his pockets out of the Coryton estates, of which
he was steward under two of the baronets.

Sir James Tillie's will by no means carries with it the character of
impiety attributed to it by Hals. It is headed: "Dei voluntas fiat, et
mei hac performet." In it he mentions the date of his birth, November
16th, 1645. It is a very long will, and in it he laboured in every
conceivable way to found a family. As he had no children of his own,
he made his eldest nephew heir, but in the event of his dying without
issue, then his estates passed to his second, and so on. At the end he
wrote: "I desire my Body may have a private interment at and in such a
place in Pentillie Castle as I have acquainted my dearest wife, the
Lady Elizabeth Tillie, with, and to have such monument erected and
inscription thereon made as I have desired my said wife."

The paper of instructions left with her is still extant; of that more
presently. He proceeds: "Although I have made a provision for my said
wife out of my Lands, yet in regard to her kindness to me whilst
living, and that tenderness to my memory which I know she will have
after my death, for the uses hereinafter mentioned, I give and
bequeath unto my said wife all her Paraphaanalia [_sic_], apparell,
jewells and ornaments of her Person, all the Books, China, Portraits
and Toyes in her Closett at Pentillie Castle, my Coach, Chariott,
Calash and set of six horses with two such of my other Horses and
Cowes as shall please her to elect, and also a Hundred Guineas in
money for her life and then for her grandchildren.

"To Altmira Tillie go the £500 payable on the day of marriage with
either one of my said nephews. But on her marriage with any other my
will is that she shall have only £250.

"To my Cousin Mary Mattock £50 to be paid on her marriage Day with
any other than William Parkes, but on her marriage with him this
legacy is to be void.

"_Then_ I give unto my said Wife fifty pounds for my ffunerall desireing
four of my ancientest workmen may lay me in my grave, unto whom I give
fforty shillings apiece. And to William Trenaman ten pounds. And to my
honest Richard Lawreate in Meate and Drink for his owne person to the
value of Two shillings and sixpence per weeke at Pentillie during his
Life. To my domestique servants living with me at my Death fforty
shillings each, To Samuel Holman his Tooles, and to John Long a joynt of
Mutton weekly during his Life, as I have done. In witness thereof I have
hereunto sett my hand and seal this 22nd day of March, 1703/4, etc."

One very curious and most unusual feature in the proving of this will
was that the original was handed over to James Tillie, the nephew, in
place of an attested copy, and only a copy retained in the Consistory

As Sir James had no right to bear arms, his nephew, James Tillie,
obtained a grant from the Heralds' College, November 1st, 1733. The
arms given him were as follows: _Arg., a cross fleury gules, in chief
three eagles' heads couped, sable_; and as a crest, on a wreath of the
colours, _a demi-phœnix rising out of flames ppr. and charged on the
breast with a cross fleury sa_.

The memorandum referred to by Sir James in his will, containing
instructions as to his burial, is still extant, and it is by no means
as extravagant as represented by Hals.

Gilpin, in his _Observations on the West Parts of England_, 1798, gave
currency to the story as amplified by tradition, and thenceforth it
was generally accepted and obtained currency.

Gough, in his Camden's _Britannia_, 1789, says: "In the rocks of
Whitsand Bay, Tilly, Esq., who died about fifty years ago, remarkable
for the freedom of his principles and life, was inclosed by his own
order, dressed in his clothes, sitting, his face to the door of a
summer-house at Pentelly, the key put under the door, and his figure
in wax, in the same dress and attitude in the room below."

Gough makes several mistakes. Pentillie is a great many miles from
Whitsand Bay, and he was placed not among rocks, but on the summit of
a hill called Ararat. The figure carved in the attitude in which
placed to rest is in sandstone, and not in wax; and finally it is not
in a summer-house, but in a lofty brick tower, erected after his
death, the bill for the erection of which is still in existence.

Notwithstanding all his schemes to found a family, his posterity failed
in the male line, and the castle and Tillie lands passed as follows:--

                         John Tillie,
                     labourer, S. Kevern.
                                        |             |
    (2) Elizab. = (1) Margaret = Sir James Tillie.   da. = Woolley.
  da. Sir R.        da. of Sir    b. Nov. 16, 1645.      |
  Chiverton and     H. Vane.                             |
  wid. of Sir                                            |
  John Coryton.                                          |
  Wm. Goodall = Elizabeth,        James Tillie Woolley = Esther ....
              |  da. Sir John     als. Tillie, Sheriff |
              |  Coryton.         of Cornwall, 1734.   |
              |                                        |
    +---------+                             +----------+
    |                                       |
  John Goodall = Margery Major.           James Tillie = Mary ....
               |                                       |
        +------+                                       |
        |                                              |
  Peter Goodall =  ....                                |
  d. 1756.      |             +------------------------+
                |             |
              John Coryton = Mary Jemima Tillie.
                   John Tillie Coryton,
                     b. 1773; d. 1843.


There was an illustrious and ancient family of Tilly, or Tylly, at
Cannington, in Somersetshire, deriving from a De Tilly in the reign of
Henry II, and the parish of West Harptree in the same county is
divided into two manors, one of which is West Harptree-Tilly. The arms
of this Tilly family were only a dragon erect, _sable_, and as such
appear in glass in the windows of Cannington Church.

That Sir James Tillie could claim no descent from this family is
evident from his not assuming their arms. Had the Heralds been able to
trace any connection whatever, they would have given to the nephew a
coat resembling the Tilly arms of Cannington but not identical.

It must be borne in mind that the possession of a surname of a noble
or gentle family by no means indicates that the bearer had a drop of
that family's blood in his veins; for it was quite a common thing when
surnames began to be acquired for the domestic servants in a house to
be called after their master, or that they should assume their
patronymics, much as in _High Life Below Stairs_ the menial servants
assume the titles of their masters as well as their names. This
practice was so common that always in the neighbourhood of a great
house, that has lived on through many centuries, will be found among
the villagers in a very humble walk of life persons bearing the
surname of the illustrious family in the castle, the hall, or the
manor. How a dependent of the Tilly family of Cannington drifted down
to the Lizard is not easily explained; it may be that this Tilly was
descended from one of the regiments that Charles I sent down to the
Scilly Isles, and which was left there and forgotten.

                         LIEUTENANT JOHN HAWKEY

Joseph Hawkey, of Liskeard, and his wife Amye, daughter of the Rev. John
Lyne, had a numerous family. John was the eldest son, born at Liskeard
in 1780; the other sons were William, Joseph, Richard, and Charles.
There was also a daughter Charlotte, born at Liskeard 10th May, 1799.

Lieutenant Joseph Hawkey, R.N., born at Liskeard in 1786, was killed
in action while commanding a successful attack on a Russian flotilla
in the Gulf of Finland in 1809.

John also entered the navy, as midshipman in the _Minerva_. A few
months after the renewal of the war in 1803 he was taken prisoner
whilst gallantly defending that ship, when she was unfortunately run
by the pilot, during a dense fog, on the west point of the stone dyke
of Cherbourg. Hawkey remained in captivity at Verdun for eleven years,
till 1814.

A commission of lieutenant had been sent out to him by mistake to the
West Indies, which being dated previous to his capture was not
cancelled, but forwarded to him in France, and was thus the means in
some degree of alleviating the evils of captivity. Whilst at Verdun he
made the acquaintance of Lieutenant Tuckey, R.N., a person like himself
a prisoner, and like him of fine taste and considerable talents.

His prospects had been cruelly clouded by his long detention in
captivity, and on the conclusion of peace he at once joined the
_Cyrus_, sloop of war; but when the Government proposed to send out
an expedition to explore the Zaire or Congo, and appointed Tuckey in
command, Lieutenant Hawkey eagerly accepted the invitation of his
friend to join him and act as second in command.

At this time little was known of the Congo and the Niger. Hitherto
what was known was due to Arabian writers of the Middle Ages, and to
what leaked out from the Portuguese; but these latter, who carried on
an extensive slave trade thence, did their utmost to keep their
knowledge of these rivers to themselves. But even they were not well
acquainted with the rivers far up from their mouths. Mungo Park was
preparing for his second expedition to explore the Niger, and it was
even supposed that the Congo or Zaire that flows into the South
Atlantic was an outlet of the Niger, and not an independent river; and
this opinion was warmly expounded by Park in a memoir addressed to
Lord Camden previous to his departure from England, and he added that,
if this should turn out to be a fact, "considered in a commercial
point of view, it is second only to the discovery of the Cape of Good
Hope; and, in a geographical point of view, it is certainly the
greatest discovery that remains to be made in this world."

On March 19th, 1816, the _Congo_, accompanied by the _Dorothy_
transport, sailed on a voyage of exploration to the Zaire. The _Congo_
was about ninety tons, schooner rigged, and drew five feet of water.
She was fitted up entirely for the accommodation of officers and men,
and for the reception of the objects of natural history which might be
collected on her progress up the river. The gentlemen engaged on the
expedition, in the scientific department, were: Professor Smith, of
Christiania, botanist and geologist; Mr. Tudor, comparative anatomist;
Mr. Cranch, collector of objects of natural history; and a gardener
to gather plants and seeds for Kew; also Mr. Galway, a gentleman
volunteer. There were two negroes, who would serve as interpreters,
one of whom came from eight hundred miles up the Zaire. The officers
were: Captain Tuckey, Lieutenant Hawkey, Mr. Fitzmaurice, master and
surveyor, Mr. McKernow, assistant surgeon, two master's mates, and a
purser. In addition to the _Congo_, the transport took out two double
whale-boats, so fitted as to be able to carry eighteen to twenty men,
with three months' provisions.

Lieutenant Hawkey was an excellent draughtsman; he sketched in a bold
and artistic manner, and to a general knowledge of natural history he
united the talent of painting the minutest sea and land animals with
great spirit and accuracy.

Although the vessels sailed from Deptford on February 16th, they were
detained in the Channel and at Falmouth by westerly gales till March
19th. On April 9th they reached the Cape de Verd Islands, whence he
wrote home to his sister Charlotte:--

                        "PORTO PRAYA, S. JAGO, _August 11th, 1816_.

"My Angel,--I am just able to hold my pen and tell you that I am alive,
after being as near death as ever mortal being was. The day before
yesterday we arrived here. Captain Tuckey and myself went to wait on the
governor, the commissary, and captain of the transport, to procure
refreshments. We were graciously received--saluted by his black
guards--took a walk in the country--returned, intending to go on board
to dinner. There is a heavy surf on the beach, and squalls are very
frequent from the mountains; one of which, when we were about a cable's
length from the shore, upset our boat. I intended swimming composedly on
shore, but something or some person caught my leg, and I could not by
any exertion get my head above water. It instantly struck me that some
one who could not swim had seized me, hoping to save himself; and I swam
in what I conceived to be the direction of the shore, under water. My
senses I preserved as fully as at present. O Lord, methought, what pain
it was to drown! What dreadful noise of water in my ears! I thought my
last hour was come. Still I struggled violently, but finding it
impossible to retain my breath longer, I took off my hat and held it
above the water. A black boy, who had swam off with several other, got
hold of it, and then of me. From that moment all recollection ceased
until I found myself with my stomach on an empty cask on the beach,
surrounded by my own party and blacks. My sufferings were very acute;
the absolute pain of dying--which ceremony I completely underwent--was
nothing in comparison. The different means prescribed for the recovery
of drowned persons were used; and as soon as possible I was conveyed on
board. A determination of blood to the head and lungs took place; all
night I was in danger; but it is now going fast off, but I am in a state
of absolute debility. Captain Tuckey says I was more than five minutes
under water--a longer time than the most experienced divers can remain.
Note, I was in full uniform--boots, sword--and my pockets full of stones
and shells I had picked up on shore. Captain Tuckey lost his sword; his
watch and mine are both spoiled."

Cape Padrone, at the mouth of the Congo, was reached on July 6th. The
transport was left a little way up, and the party of exploration
pushed on up the river. The mouth of the Congo was found to be about
fifteen miles wide. Far inland were seen naked hills of sand.
Professor Smith wrote in his diary:--

"July 7th.--Early this morning the mafock, or governor, came on board
in two canoes, with his retinue. At first his pretensions were very
lofty. He insisted on being saluted with a discharge of cannon, and on
observing us going to breakfast declared that he expected to be placed
at the same table with the captain, and endeavoured to make his words
sufficiently impressive by haughty gesticulations. Sitting on the
quarter-deck in a chair covered with a flag, his dress consisting of a
laced velvet cloak, a red cap, a piece of stuff round his waist,
otherwise naked, with an umbrella over his head, though the weather
was cold and cloudy, he represented the best caricature I ever saw. He
soon became more moderate on being informed that the vessels were not
belonging to slave merchants, but to the King of England, and that our
object was to trade. In order to give him a proof of our goodwill
towards him, a gun was discharged and a merchant flag hoisted."

A good many negroes after this came on board. They were nearly all
nominally Christians. Among them was a Catholic priest, who had been
ordained at Loando. He had been baptized two years before his
ordination at S. Antonio.

"The barefooted black apostle, however, had no fewer than five wives.
A few crosses on the necks of the negroes, some Portuguese prayers,
and a few lessons taught by heart, are the only fruits that remain of
the labours (of the Portuguese missionaries) of three hundred years."

Proceeding up the river, threading a tangle of islands and sandbanks,
the vessels stood off Embonna, where they came across an American
slaver flying Swedish colours. Here there had been several Portuguese
slave-dealing ships, but on hearing of the arrival in the river of
the English vessels during the night they slipped away.

On July 25th they came to the Fetiche Rock, a mass of micaceous granite
rising perpendicularly out of the river, with eddies and whirlpools at
its feet. The surface of the rock is covered with sculptured figures,
which Lieutenant Hawkey drew, and which he managed to interpret.

On July 26th Captain Tuckey and others landed at Lombee, a village of
a hundred huts, and the king's market, and here they went to visit the
chenoo, or king.

"Having seated myself," wrote Tuckey, "the chenoo made his appearance
from behind a mat-screen, his costume conveying the idea of Punch in a
puppet show, being composed of a crimson plush jacket with curious
gilt buttons, a lower garment in the native style in red velvet, his
legs muffled in pink sarsenet, and a pair of red morocco half-boots.
On his head an immense high-crowned hat embroidered with gold, and
surmounted by a kind of coronet of European artificial flowers. Having
seated himself on the right, a master of the ceremonies with a long
staff in his hand inquired into the rank of the gentlemen, and seated
them accordingly.

"All being seated, I explained to the chenoo, by the interpreter, the
motives of my mission--stating that 'the King of England being equally
good as he was powerful, and having conquered all his enemies and made
peace in all Europe, he now sent his ships to all parts of the world to
do good to all people, and to see what they wanted and what they had to
exchange; that for this purpose I was going up the river, and that, on
my return to England, English trading vessels would bring them the
objects necessary to them, and teach them to build houses and make
clothes.' These benevolent intentions were, however, far beyond their
comprehension; and as little could they be made to understand that
curiosity was also one of the motives of our visit, or that a ship could
come such a distance for any other purpose but to trade or fight; and
for two hours they rung the changes on the questions, Are you come to
trade? and Are you come to make war? At last, however, they appeared to
be convinced that I came for neither purpose; and on my assuring them
that though I did not trade myself I should not meddle with the slave
traders of any nation, they expressed their satisfaction.

"The keg of spiced rum which I had brought as part of my present to the
chenoo was now produced, together with an English white earthen washhand
basin covered with dirt, into which some of the liquor was poured and
distributed to the company, the king saying he drank only wine, and
retiring to order dinner. The moment he disappeared, the company began
to scramble for a sup of the rum; and one fellow, dropping his dirty cap
into the basin, as if by accident, contrived to snatch it out again well
soaked, and sucked it with great satisfaction."

Here Captain Tuckey learned that the traders carried off on an average
two thousand slaves every year.

Hence, on August 5th, Captain Tuckey, Lieutenant Hawkey, and the
scientific gentlemen proceeded up the river in the double boat, the
transport's longboat, two gigs, and a punt. In addition to those
already mentioned were some of the sailors and the interpreters.

On August 10th the expedition reached Noki, where the river was rapid
and difficult, running between high bluffs, and Professor Smith
likened it to one of the torrent streams of Norway. On reaching Caran
Yellatu progress was arrested by cataracts, and the party was forced
to quit the boats and push on by land. Here one of the interpreters
deserted, carrying away with him four of the best porters who had been
engaged at Embonna.

"Every man I have conversed with," says Tuckey, "acknowledges that if
the white man did not come for slaves the practice of kidnapping would
no longer exist, and the wars which nine times out of ten result from
the European slave trade would be proportionately less frequent. The
people at large most assuredly desire the cessation of a trade in
which, on the contrary, all the great men, deriving a large portion of
their revenue from the presents it produces, as well as the slave
merchants, are interested in its continuance."

At Juga the river again widened, and this was made a basis for
excursions by land up the river.

On the 10th September Captain Tuckey found it impossible to proceed
further; sickness and death were making terrible ravages among the
party, and it became absolutely necessary to relinquish the enterprise
and endeavour to make their way back to the vessels. On the following
day Captain Tuckey's journal records that they "had a terrible
march--worse to us than the retreat from Moscow."

Of this return journey we have an account from Lieutenant Hawkey's
diary. When Sir John Barrow published an account of the expedition
from the journals of Captain Tuckey and Professor Smith the diary of
Hawkey was not obtainable; it had been lost, and was not recovered for
some years; and then, when given for publication, was again lost, and
only the concluding pages were to be found. It shall be given,
somewhat curtailed.

"September 9th.--Our Ultima Thule. Sketched by the setting sun the
appearance of the river, a thousand ideas rushing into my mind: the
singularity of my situation, its contrast with my captivity, and
equally so with my wishes. Here, probably, my travels are to end; but
Heaven knows for what I am destined, and I resign myself. Passed a
sleepless night, and wandered on the beach, wishing, but in vain, for
sleep. Captain Tuckey ill all night.

"September 10th.--A fine grey morning. Packing up for our return--a
great assemblage of natives, one with a gay red cap. Bought six fowls
for an umbrella. Dr. Smith sketched our last view of the mighty Zaire.
Set out and soon found Dawson very sick; obliged to give his arms and
knapsack to others, and to lead him and give him wine occasionally.
Halted at Vonke, where I got into a scrape by touching Amaza's
fetiche, for which, it being ruined, he wanted a fathom of chintz,
which I gave him. It is forbidden to touch a fetiche or to carry fowls
with their heads downwards. Bought a goat for an umbrella. Bargaining
for a canoe for the sick and luggage; procured one, and embarked poor
Dawson. Tuckey ill; at Masakka had a specimen of African hospitality:
Tuckey, fainting and ill, could not obtain a drop of palm wine until
it was paid for exorbitantly. Peter gave the cap from his head, and
Tuckey his handkerchief and the last beads. To his being faint they
paid not the least regard. About two miles from Sirndia all our guides
abandoned us. However, we found our way, and on our arrival the tent
and luggage, just landed.

"September 11th.--Hazy, cloudy; feel a little ill. Canoes assembling;
bargained for two for six fathoms and four handkerchiefs. A world of
trouble with them--three strokes of the paddle and stop; wanted to
land us above the rapid; obliged to threaten to put them to death. At
last got them to a rapid that stopped us, where we landed and again
grumbled on. One fellow attempted to snatch the piece from Captain
Tuckey's hand. Met here with some of our old friends, and bargained
with the man whose canoe was stove on the 7th to take us to Juga. The
bearers are to have two fathoms each, and himself a dress. Encamped at
Bemba Ganga. Broached our last bottle of wine.

"September 12th.--A grey morning. Bought four fowls for two empty
bottles, and four more for some beads. Embarked in a canoe and set
off. About ten arrived at Ganga and had to wait for a canoe;
atmosphere much changed. Hitherto we had found the blacks honest
enough, but here they gave us specimens of being as great thieves as
they were cowards. The canoe in which the sick men came down was
robbed of some check and baft (coarse cloth). One fellow attempted to
steal a carbine. Ben (the black interpreter) lost his greatcoat, which
the fellow he trusted with it ran away with, and our barometer was
stolen in the night. Dr. Smith was taken ill here. We encamped in the
valley of Demba, where we were assailed by ants in myriads, and got no
sleep. After dusk we were informed that the men whom we had hired at
Bemba as canoe men had run away.

"September 13th.--From 7 a.m. until 6 p.m. no refreshments excepting
earth-nuts, palm-wine, and water. However, we persevered, and at dusk
reached Juga, where we found Butler sick, and had the misery of being
told that poor Tudor and Cranch were no more, Galway despaired of, and
many of the crew sick. Melancholy enough, God knows, but hold on.
Mansa, the slave, has deserted with poor Galway's knapsack.

"September 14th.--Mizzling rain; melancholy morning. The captain and
Dr. Smith sick. Packing up for ship. Hodder sets out with ten men and an
advanced guard. Dr. Smith worse; decide on removing him to-day;
difficulty in getting bearers; prepared hammocks for the sick. At noon
both the captain and Dr. Smith better; Dawson rather worse; get Butler
into a house. Corporal Middleton arrives with the sad news of Galway's
death, that of poor Stirling and Berry, and a long list of sick. Here I
am in the tent. Poor Tuckey ill, asleep, or perhaps feigning it to avoid
conversation. Dr. Smith groaning under a rheumatic fever, and his trusty
David Lockhart attending him. My ideas are wandering round the world,
and the only consolation is that perhaps it may be the means of my
seeing my dear European friends sooner than I had expected. Five only of
the _Congo's_ are capable of duty, except the warrant officers. Saturday
night. God bless you all, my dear, dear friends!

"September 15th.--Broke up at Juga, and such a scene I never before
witnessed, and hope never to witness again. As soon as Tuckey was
gone, the natives rushed in upon us like so many furies, each taking
what he could get hold of; the things we were obliged to abandon. A
part of our guides and bearers ran away with the things they were to
carry, and poor Butler was obliged to come away with only two bearers,
who tottered under him, and who were mocked by their compassionate
countrymen. I left him near the ravine of Bondé, and passed on to
Dawson, who was coming on pretty well, as he had four bearers and was
not very heavy. Not far from Vouchin-semnis we were assailed with
horrid shrieks and cries, and soon saw a dozen women, or rather
furies, holding their idols towards us, rolling their eyes, foaming at
the mouth, and making the most violent contortions. They had lost
some manioc, and were exorcising the thieves. I believe the gangam
(priest) had accused us of the robbery. We continued our march, rather
a forced one, to Noki. Far different was the night, and far different
our feelings, on the 23rd of last month! I was colder than charity,
and it rained very hard for more than two hours.

"September 16th.--Started from Juga. Captain and party on foot, and Dr.
Smith in a hammock. Dr. Smith very weak; obliged to take him out of his
hammock, and William Burton, a marine, carried him on his back, up
almost precipices, to Banza, where we had great difficulty in getting a
little water, which was only obtained by the double influence of a
threat to shoot them and a present of some powder. Arrived at the beach,
where we found all in confusion. No canoes to be had, in consequence of
a taboo from the King of Vinni, who had not received his dues from
Sanquila, who says, on his side, it is in consequence of the commanding
officer of the _Congo_ having threatened to put some one in irons.
Seized the man who appeared to be the chief cause of the opposition, and
at the same time fired at, brought to, and seized five fishing-canoes,
and shortly after obtained two larger from a creek, when we liberated
three of the fishermen's canoes and the head-man.

"September 17th.--Preparing for embarkation. Finding no paddlers come,
pressed two men and set out, crossing over to the south shore to avoid
the whirlpools. When we left men were assembling fast on the hills, and
told us we had killed a man last night. Beached the canoes and ate some
goat's flesh. So returned on board and reached the _Congo_. Found our
vessel in a horrid state of confusion and filth; stuffed with parrots,
monkeys, puppies, pigeons, etc. The carpenter cutting up the last plank
to make coffins. The deck lumbered as when we left her, and not a
wind-sail up! No stock on board; the sick in double boats and tents
pitched on shore. My cabin filthy as a hog-stye. Passed a sleepless
night. Dr. Smith very unwell, and Captain Tuckey very little better.

"September 18th.--A little after daylight, Captain Tuckey, Dr. Smith,
and myself left the _Congo_. Passed M'Bima. The river is very much
risen; eagles hovering over us all the way down. Arrived on board the
_Dorothy_ at 3 p.m. Got Dr. Smith to bed; refreshed ourselves, and
thought the air here quite reviving, and a clean ship the greatest of
luxuries. All on board the _Dorothy_ had been well, except the
carpenter, who was convalescent, and a boy who had been up in the
longboat, and was in the same state.

"September 19th.--Sloop's boat arrived with the sick, and Johnson
dead. Went on shore with Captain Gunther and some of the transport's
people, and buried him--so putrid that I was obliged to bury him in
his cot, with all his bedding.

"September 20th.--Sick improving generally; transport getting ready
for sea. _Congo_ not in sight. Sent skiff to _Congo_. At 6 p.m. Garth
dies. Skiff returns; has left _Congo_ near Augsberg Island. Parrots
prevent all possibility of sleeping to the sick.

"September 21st.--Hazy morning. _Congo_ not in sight at nine. An order
for all parrots to be before the fore-hatchway. Buried Garth. Durnford
and Burton attacked with fever; Lockhart unwell, and Ben. Two of
transport's people ill. Jefferies, fever; Ben wishes to remain at
M'Bima. At 6 p.m. _Congo_ and schooner anchored here. Dr. Smith
appears to be in a stupor.

"September 22nd.--Close morning. Getting stores, etc., from _Congo_;
cleaning her decks; preparing to get her water-tanks filled. Dr. Smith
still in a stupor. Sick generally better, except the captain and
Parker. Weighed with _Dorothy_ and sloop; beat down with sea-breeze.
Dr. Smith, poor fellow, dies, quite worn out; in some measure from his
own imprudent treatment of himself, constantly refusing to follow the
doctor's advice or to take any medicine; cold water was his only
specific. He died without a groan. Mild, affable, and learned, it was
his greatest pleasure to communicate information, and to receive it.
He had conciliated the affections of all his fellow-passengers, and
even of all the crews of both vessels. Anchored at dark, sloop not in
sight. Hoisted a light, to be kept up all night.

"September 23rd.--At night buried the mortal remains of Dr. Smith, as
silently as possible. No sloop in sight; very uneasy on account of the
sick. Hot weather; sprinkled with vinegar; Tuckey much better. Sloop
arrives; reason of not joining before, does not beat well.

"September 24th.--Cloudy morning; small rain. _Dorothy_ sets up her
rigging. Set sail on _Dorothy_, but she could not stem the current,
which is very strong. The corporal, Middleton, is the only man out of
the sick list.

"September 25th.--Cloudy morning; land breeze until noon. Two bottles
of wine were stolen from the sick last night. _Congo_ in sight, and
schooner, the latter coming up the river; anchored here. Removed all
the sick from the sloop to the _Dorothy_.

"September 26th.--Grey morning. Paid our blacks, and as soon as we
weighed turned them adrift in the large canoe. Weighed and worked
round Sharks' Point; felt quite happy when to the westward of it. On
the 5th July we entered the _Congo_, and since then thirteen of our
party have died and one has been drowned. Sick generally better;
seventeen on the list. Tuckey hailed for assistance previous to our
weighing; talks of giving up charge."

On September 30th Lieutenant Hawkey enters the death of Lethbridge and
of Eyre.

On October 1st enters: "Taken very unwell myself--universal debility
and slight headache.

"October 2nd.--Cloudy. Standing to the west all day. Very unwell.

"October 3rd.--Cloudy, with swell. Still very unwell. Swallow caught."

This is the last entry in the diary. On the day following Captain Tuckey
died; and on October 6th Lieutenant Hawkey's own name was added to the
fatal list of those who perished in this most disastrous expedition. In
all eighteen died in the short space of less than three months during
which they remained in the river, or within a few days after leaving it.
Fourteen of these were of the party that had set out on the land journey
above Juga; the other four were attacked on board the _Congo_; two had
died on the passage out, and the sergeant of marines in the hospital at
Bahia, making the total of deaths amount to twenty-one.

This great mortality is the more extraordinary, as it appears from
Captain Tuckey's journal that nothing could have been finer than the
climate: the atmosphere was remarkably dry, and scarcely a shower fell
during the whole journey, and the sun for three or four days did not
shine sufficiently to allow of an observation being taken.

It appears from the report of the assistant surgeon that the greater
number were carried off by a violent intermittent fever; some of them
appeared, however, to have had no other ailment than that caused by
extreme exhaustion caused by the land journey. Some of the crew of the
_Congo_ died of the fever who never went above the cataracts; "but
then," as the surgeon observes, "they were permitted to go on shore at
liberty, where the day was passed in running about the country, and
during the night lying in huts or in the open air."

The _Gentleman's Magazine_ for January, 1817, gives a brief summary of
the achievements of the expedition. "They arrived at the mouth of the
Congo about the 3rd July, and leaving the transport, which only
accompanied them an inconsiderable distance, they proceeded in the
sloop, which was purposely built to draw little water, up the river to
the extent of 120 miles, when her progress, and even that of the
boats, was stopped by rapids. Determined still to prosecute the
undertaking, the men landed, and it was not till they had marched 150
miles over a barren, mountainous country, and after experiencing the
greatest privations from want of water, and being entirely exhausted
by fatigue, that they gave up the attempt. Hope stayed them up till
they reached the vessel, but they were so worn out that twenty-five
out of the fifty-five died twenty-four hours after their return,
comprehending all the scientific part of those who started, and only
eight were left on board in a state fit to navigate the vessel."

That there is some inaccuracy in this account will be seen from what
has preceded it.

The authority for the story of this unfortunate expedition is Sir John
Barrow's edition of the narrative of the expedition, with the diary of
Captain Tuckey, published in 1819; and Miss Charlotte Hawkey's
_Neota_, privately printed in 1871.

                           DR. DANIEL LOMBARD

Lanteglos with Camelford is one of the richest livings in Cornwall.
Lanteglos itself is nearly two miles from Camelford, and in this
latter place there is neither a church nor a licensed chapel. A few
scattered farms are about Lanteglos; and in Camelford, which is a
market town, there is a population of 1370, left to be ministered to
in holy things by dissenting ministers of many sects.

The rectory of Lanteglos lies in a valley, amidst luxuriant
vegetation, and is altogether a very snug spot indeed.

In February, 1718, the Rev. Daniel Lombard was inducted into this
living on the presentation of the Prince of Wales. He was a Frenchman,
the son of a Huguenot pastor, who had fled from his native land on the
Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Daniel had been placed in Merchant
Taylors' School, and thence had passed to S. John's College, Oxford,
where he had taken his degree of Doctor of Divinity, and he became
chaplain to the Princess of Wales, and in 1714 published a sermon that
he had preached before the Princess Sophia at Hanover. He spent a good
deal of time in Germany, and there made the acquaintance of Mr.
Gregor, of Trewarthenick, with whom in after life he maintained a
lengthy correspondence, still extant.

From all accounts Dr. Lombard was learned on certain lines, but he was
totally unacquainted with the ways of the world, utterly unsuited to
be a parish priest, and lost completely in the isolation of Lanteglos,
far from society in which he could shine; and speaking English badly
with a foreign accent.

After his institution by the Bishop of Exeter to the livings of
Lanteglos juxta Camelford and that of Advent, Dr. Lombard started off
to reach his cure, mounted on one horse, and his servant on another,
driving a third laden with such articles as appeared to him to be
indispensable in a country where he supposed that nothing was

He rode in this manner along the highway past Launceston, inquiring
everywhere, "Vere ish Landéglo juxtà Camélvore?" No one had heard of the
place; after some consideration the rustics pointed due west. He must go
on one or two days' journey more. He thus travelled through Camelford,
still inquiring "Mais où donc est Landéglo juxtà Camélvore?"

"I know what he means," said some of those questioned; "the gentleman
is seeking the Land's End."

And so he travelled on and ever on till he reached the Land's End, and
only then discovered that he had passed through his cure without
knowing it.

When at last he reached Lanteglos rectory, the woman who acted as
housekeeper showed him with much pride a hen surrounded by a large brood
of chickens. "Deare me!" exclaimed the Doctor. "'Ow can von liddle moder
afford to give milk from her breast to soche a large familie?"

Seeing sheep with red ruddle on their fleeces, "Pore things!" said he.
"'Ow 'ot dey do seem to be! Dey be red 'ot!"

He collected a tolerable library of books, and occupied himself with
writing one work in French, a Dissertation on the Utility of History,
introductory to strictures on certain histories that had been
published by De Mezeray and the Père Daniel. But he also wrote in
English _A Succinct History of Ancient and Modern Persecutions_,
together with a short essay on _Assassinations and Civil Wars_, 1747.

He died at Camelford, December 14, 1746, and left his library for the
use of his successor.

                       THE DREAM OF MR. WILLIAMS

John Williams, of Scorrier, was the son of Michael Williams, of
Gwennap, and was born 23rd September, 1753. He was the most extensive
mining adventurer in Cornwall.

On May 11, 1812, Mr. Perceval, Chancellor of the Exchequer, was shot
in the evening, just as he entered the lobby of the House of Commons,
by a man called Bellingham, who had concealed himself behind a door.

On that same night, Mr. Williams, of Scorrier, had three remarkable
dreams, in each of which he saw the whole transaction as distinctly as
if he had been present there in person.

His attested statement, relative to these dreams, was drawn up and
signed by him in the presence of the Rev. Thomas Fisher and Mr. Chas.
Prideaux Brune. This account, the original MS. signed by Mr. Williams,
is preserved at Prideaux Place, Padstow. A very minute account of it
found its way into the _Times_ of the 28th August, 1828; another was
furnished to Dr. Abercrombie derived from Mr. Williams himself, who
detailed his experiences to a medical friend of the doctor, and this
latter published this in his _Inquiries Concerning the Intellectual
Power_. This was republished by Dr. Clement Carlyon in _Early Years
and Late Reflections_, 1836-41, together with another account by Mr.
Hill, a barrister, grandson of Mr. John Williams, and which he had
taken down from his grandfather's lips. All these accounts are
practically identical. According to Dr. Abercrombie: "Mr. Williams
dreamt that he was in the lobby of the House of Commons and saw a
small man enter, dressed in a blue coat and white waistcoat.
Immediately after he saw a man dressed in a brown coat with yellow
basket buttons draw a pistol from under his coat and discharge it at
the former, who instantly fell, the blood issuing from a wound a
little below the left breast." According to Mr. Hill's account, "he
heard the report of the pistol, saw the blood fly out and stain the
waistcoat, and saw the colour of the face change." Dr. Abercrombie's
authority goes on to state: "He saw the murderer seized by some
gentlemen who were present, and observed his countenance, and in
asking who the gentleman was who had been shot, he was told it was the
Chancellor. He then awoke, and mentioned the dream to his wife, who
made light of it." This wife was Catherine, daughter of Martin Harvey,
of Killefreth, in Kenwyn, born in 1757.

We will now take the rest of the narrative from the account in the
_Times_: "Mrs. Williams very naturally told him it was only a dream, and
recommended him to be composed, and go to sleep as soon as he could. He
did so, and shortly after woke her again, and said that he had the
second time had the same dream; whereupon she observed he had been so
much agitated by his former dream that she supposed it had dwelt on his
mind, and begged him to try to compose himself and go to sleep, which he
did. A third time the vision was repeated, on which, notwithstanding her
entreaties that he would be quiet and endeavour to forget it, he arose,
it being then between one and two o'clock, and dressed himself.

"At breakfast the dreams were the sole subject of conversation, and in
the afternoon Mr. Williams went to Falmouth, where he related the
particulars of them to all of his acquaintance that he met. On the
following day, Mr. Tucker, of Trematon Castle, accompanied by his
wife, a daughter of Mr. Williams, went to Scorrier House about dusk.

"Immediately after the first salutations on their entering the
parlour, where were Mr., Mrs., and Miss Williams, Mr. Williams began
to relate to Mr. Tucker the circumstances of his dream; and Mrs.
Williams observed to her daughter, Mrs. Tucker, laughingly, that her
father could not even suffer Mr. Tucker to be seated before he told
him of his nocturnal visitation, on the statement of which he observed
that it would do very well for a dream to have the (Lord) Chancellor
in the lobby of the House of Commons, but he could not be found there
in reality, and Mr. Tucker then asked what sort of a man he appeared
to be, when Mr. Williams minutely described him, to which Mr. Tucker
replied: 'Your description is not that of the Lord Chancellor, but it
is certainly that of Mr. Perceval, the Chancellor of the Exchequer;
and although he has been to me the greatest enemy I ever met in my
life, for a supposed cause which had no foundation or truth (or words
to that effect), I should be exceedingly sorry indeed to hear of his
being assassinated, or of injury of the kind happening to him.'

"Mr. Tucker then inquired of Mr. Williams if he had ever seen Mr.
Perceval, and was told that he had never seen him, nor had ever even
written to him either on public or private business; in short, that he
never had anything to do with him, nor had he ever been in the lobby
of the House of Commons in his life.

"Whilst Mr. Williams and Mr. Tucker were still standing they heard a
horse gallop to the door of the house, and immediately after Mr.
Michael Williams, of Trevince (son of Mr. Williams, of Scorrier) entered
the room, and said that he had galloped out of Truro (from which
Scorrier is distant seven miles), having seen a gentleman there who had
come by that evening's mail from London, who said that he had been in
the lobby of the House of Commons on the evening of the 11th, when a man
called Bellingham had shot Mr. Perceval, and that, as it might occasion
some great ministerial changes, and might affect Mr. Tucker's political
friends, he had come as fast as he could to make him acquainted with it,
having heard at Truro that he had passed through that place on his way
to Scorrier. After the astonishment which this intelligence created had
a little subsided, Mr. Williams described most particularly the
appearance and dress of the man that he saw in his dream fire the
pistol, as he had before done of Mr. Perceval.

"About six weeks after, Mr. Williams, having business in town, went,
accompanied by a friend, to the House of Commons, where, as has been
already observed, he had never before been. Immediately that he came to
the steps at the entrance to the lobby, he said: 'This place is as
distinctly within my recollection in my dream as any in my house,' and
he made the same observation when he entered the lobby. He there pointed
out the exact spot where Bellingham stood when he fired, and which Mr.
Perceval had reached when he was struck by the ball, and when and how he
fell. The dress, both of Mr. Perceval and Bellingham, agreed with the
description given by Mr. Williams, even to the most minute particulars."

Such is this well-authenticated story. It is worth notice that Mr.
Williams saw the whole affair in dream thrice repeated long after the
real event had taken place, and not by any means at the moment of the
assassination. Some dreams that are well authenticated may have led to
the conviction of murderers. But this did not; it was wholly useless;
yet it is impossible to deny that it really occurred.

                          SIR ROBERT TRESILIAN

Sir Robert Tresilian, of Tresilian, in the parish of Newlyn, and by
virtue of marriage with the heiress of Haweis also lord of Tremoderet in
Duloe, was Lord Chief Justice of England and adviser to King Richard II;
he accordingly drew upon himself the animosity of the King's uncle,
Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester. But he had also drawn upon his
head the hatred of the commonalty by his "bloody circuit" after the
insurrection of Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, and John Ball.

When Sir Robert Knollys had brought together a large force against the
insurgents, the young King had forbidden him to slaughter them _en
masse_, as he proposed, "For," said he, "I will have their blood in
another way." And he had their blood by sending Chief Justice Tresilian
among them, and, according to Holinshed, the number of executions
amounted to 1500. At first they were beheaded; afterwards they were
hanged and left on the gibbet to excite terror; but their friends cut
down the bodies and carried them off; whereupon the King ordered that
they should be hanged in strong iron chains; and this was the first
instance of this barbarous and disgusting practice in England.

The King had promised the insurgent peasantry that serfage should be
abolished, that liberty should be accorded to all to buy and sell in
the markets, and that land should be let at fourpence an acre, that a
general amnesty should be accorded. To all these he had acceded with
charters signed and sealed; but so soon as the disturbances were over
he repudiated his undertakings, and we cannot doubt that he did so at
the advice of Tresilian, who pronounced them illegal.

Richard did, indeed, in the next Parliament, urge the abolition of
villainage, but the proposal was coldly received, not pressed, and
rejected. Moreover, on the occasion of his marriage with Anne of
Bohemia, which took place soon after, a general amnesty was proclaimed.

The people were, however, disaffected. The imposition of a poll tax
levied on rich and poor at the same sum on all over fifteen, and the
scandalous manner in which it had been collected, had given general
dissatisfaction, and it was, in fact, this which had roused Wat Tyler
to march on London to obtain redress.

The King had surrounded himself with favourites, and his uncles were
excluded from his council. The country was divided between the party
of the King and that of the Duke of Gloucester. There is not the least
reason to suppose that the latter had at heart the welfare of the
people of England, any more than had the creatures who surrounded the
King. The Duke was moved by resentment, pride, and ambition, and many
believed that he aimed at the crown.

The chief favourites of Richard were Michael de la Pole, whom he created
Earl of Suffolk, and Robert de Vere, a young and handsome man, who was
made Marquis of Dublin, receiving, at the same time, the extraordinary
grant of the whole revenue of Ireland, out of which he was to pay a
yearly rent of five thousand marks to the King. He was soon after
created Duke of Ireland. The other advisers of the King were Worth,
Archbishop of York, Sir Simon Burley, and Sir Robert Tresilian. These
certainly judged rightly when they opposed the prosecution of the war in
France, and the subvention of the claims of the Duke of Lancaster to the
Crown of Castile. The country was being drained of men and money in
these profitless wars. But the nobles, headed by Thomas of Gloucester,
opposed this policy, and naturally had the support of those who made
money out of the wars. To defeat the plans of the council, Gloucester
demanded the dismissal of Suffolk. The King petulantly answered that he
would not at his command dismiss a scullion-boy from his kitchen.
Suffolk was, however, impeached by the Commons for undue use of his
influence, and the King was obliged to submit to the fining and
imprisonment of his favourite. It was next proposed that a council
should be appointed to reform the State. At this proposition Richard
threatened to dissolve the Parliament. A member of the Commons thereupon
moved that the statute deposing Edward II should be read, and the King
was warned that death might be the penalty of a continued refusal. He
yielded. The commission was appointed, and Gloucester and his friends,
who formed the great majority, were masters of England. In yielding,
Richard limited the duration of the commission to a year. The King was
now twenty years of age, but he was reduced to as mere a cipher as when
he was a boy of eleven.

In the month of August in the following year, 1387, acting under the
advice of Tresilian, he assembled a council at Nottingham, and
submitted to some of the judges who attended it this question--Whether
the Commission of Government appointed by Parliament, and approved of
under his own seal, were legal or illegal? Tresilian led the rest of
the judges to certify that the commission was illegal, and that all
those who had introduced the measure were liable to capital
punishment; that all who supported it were by that act guilty of high
treason; in short, that both Lords and Commons were traitors.

On the 11th November following the King returned to London, when he
was alarmed by hearing that the Duke of Gloucester, the Earls of
Arundel and Nottingham, the Constable, Admiral, and Marshal of England
were approaching the capital at the head of forty thousand men. The
decision of Tresilian and the judges and of the King had, in fact,
forced them into rebellion, as it was pretty evident that Richard
aimed at taking their lives.

So soon as Richard's cousin, the Earl of Derby, heard of the approach
of Gloucester, he quitted the Court with the Earl of Warwick, went to
Waltham Cross, and there joined him. The members of the Council of
Eleven were there already. On Sunday, the 17th of November, the Duke
entered London with an irresistible force and "appealed" of treason
the Archbishop of York, De Vere, Duke of Ireland, De la Pole, Earl of
Suffolk, Sir Robert Tresilian, Chief Justice of England, and Sir
Nicolas Brember, Knight, a London grocer and Lord Mayor of London.

The favourites instantly took to flight. De la Pole, the condemned
Chancellor, succeeded in reaching France, where he died soon after; De
Vere, Duke of Ireland, got to the borders of Wales, where he raised an
army, acting in concert with the King; it was resolved he should march
to London. The Archbishop of York escaped to Flanders, where he spent
the rest of his days as a village priest.

The fate of Chief Justice Tresilian must be told in the words of Sir
John Froissart.

Richard had gone to Bristol to organize an army against the Duke of
Gloucester, and De Vere, the Duke of Ireland, was with him there.

"While the army was collecting, the King and the Duke in secret
conference, determined to send one of their confidential agents to
London, to observe what was going forward, and if the King's uncles
still remained there, to discover what they were doing. After some
consultation, they could think of no proper person to send on this
errand; when a knight who was cousin to the Duke, called Sir Robert
Tresilian, stepped forth, and said to the Duke, 'I see the difficulty
you have to find a trusty person to send to London; I, from love of
you, will risk the adventure.' The King and the Duke, well pleased
with the offer, thanked him for it. Tresilian left Bristol disguised
as a poor tradesman, mounted on a wretched hackney. He continued his
road to London, and lodged at an inn where he was unknown; for no man
could have ever imagined that one of the King's counsellors and
chamberlains would have appeared in so miserable a dress.

"When in London, he picked up all the news that was possible, for he
could do no more, respecting the King's uncles and the citizens. Having
heard that there was to be a meeting of the Dukes and their council at
Westminster, he determined to go thither to learn secretly all he could
of their proceedings. This he executed, and fixed his quarters at an
ale-house right opposite the palace gate. He chose a chamber the window
of which looked into the palace yard, where he posted himself to observe
all who should come to this Parliament. The greater part he knew, but
was not, from his disguise, known to them. He, however, remained there
at different times, so long, that a squire of the Duke of Gloucester saw
and recognized him, for he had been many times in his company. Sir
Robert also at once recollected him, and withdrew from the window; but
the squire, having his suspicions, said, 'Surely that must be
Tresilian.' To be certain on this point, he entered the ale-house, and
said to the landlady, 'Dame, tell me, on your troth, who is he that is
drinking in the room above; he is alone and not in company.' 'On my
troth, sir,' she replied, 'I cannot give you his name; but he has been
here some time.' At these words, the squire went upstairs to know the
truth, and having saluted Sir Robert, found he was right, though he
dissembled by saying, 'God preserve you, master! I hope you will not
take my coming amiss, for I thought you had been one of my farmers from
Essex, as you are so very like him.' 'By no means,' said Sir Robert; 'I
am from Kent, and hold lands of Sir John Holland, and wish to lay my
complaints before the Council against the tenants of the Archbishop of
Canterbury, who encroach much on my farm.' 'If you will come into the
hall,' said the squire, 'I will have way made for you to lay your
grievances before the lords.' 'Many thanks,' replied Sir Robert; 'not at
this moment, but I shall not renounce your assistance.' At the words the
squire ordered a quart of ale, and having paid for it, he said, 'God be
with you!' and left the ale-house.

"He lost no time in hastening to the council-chamber, and called to
the usher to open the door. The usher, knowing him, asked his
business. He said, 'he must instantly speak with the Duke of
Gloucester, on matters that mainly concerned him and the council.' The
usher, on this, bade him enter, which he did, and made up to the Duke
of Gloucester, saying, 'My lord, I will tell it aloud; for it concerns
not you only but all the lords present. I have seen Sir Robert
Tresilian, disguised as a peasant, in an ale-house close by the
palace gate.' 'Tresilian!' exclaimed the Duke. 'On my faith, my lord,
it is true; and you will have him to dine with, if you please.' 'I
should like it much,' replied the Duke; 'for he will tell us some news
of his master, the Duke of Ireland. Go, and secure him; but with power
enough not to be in danger of failing.'

"The squire on these orders, left the council-chamber, and having chosen
four bailiffs, said to them, 'Follow me at a distance; and so soon as
you shall perceive me make you a sign to arrest a man I am in search of,
lay hands on him, and take care he do not, on any account, escape.' The
squire made for the ale-house where he had left Sir Robert, and,
mounting the staircase to the room where he was, said, on entering:
'Tresilian, you are not come to this country for any good, as I imagine;
my Lord of Gloucester sends me for you, and you must come and speak with
him.' The knight turned a deaf ear, and would have been excused by
saying, 'I am not Tresilian, but a tenant of Sir John Holland.'

"'That is not true,' replied the squire; 'your body is Tresilian's,
though not your dress.' And, making a sign to the bailiffs, who were
at the door, they entered the house and arrested him, and, whether he
would or not, carried him to the palace. You may believe, there was a
great crowd to see him; for he was well known in London, and in many
parts of England.

"The Duke of Gloucester was much pleased, and would see him. When in
his presence, the Duke said: 'Tresilian, what has brought you hither?
How fares my Sovereign? Where does he now reside?' Tresilian, finding
that he was discovered, and that no excuses would avail, replied: 'On
my faith, my lord, the King has sent me hither to learn the news. He
is in Bristol, and on the banks of the Severn, where he hunts and
amuses himself.'

"'How!' said the Duke, 'You do not come dressed as an honest man, but
like a spy. If you had been desirous to learn what was passing, your
appearance should have been like that of a knight or a decent person.'
'My lord,' answered Tresilian, 'if I have done wrong, I hope you will
excuse me, for I have only done what I was bid.' 'And where is your
master, the Duke of Ireland?' 'My lord,' said Tresilian, 'he is with
the King, my lord.' The Duke then added: 'We have been informed that
he is collecting a large body of men, and that the King has issued his
summons to that effect. Whither does he mean to lead them?' 'My lord,
they are indeed for Ireland.' 'For Ireland!' said the Duke. 'Yes,
indeed, as God may help me,' answered Tresilian.

"The Duke mused awhile, and then spoke: 'Tresilian, Tresilian, your
actions are neither fair nor honest. You have committed a great piece of
folly in coming to these parts, where you are far from being loved, as
will shortly be shown to you. Yes, and others of your faction have done
what has greatly displeased my brother and myself, and have ill-advised
the King, whom you have stirred up to quarrel with his chief nobility.
In addition, you have excited the principal towns against us. The day of
retribution is therefore come, when you shall receive payment; for
whoever acts unjustly receives his reward. Look to your affairs, for I
will neither eat nor drink till you be no more.'

"This speech greatly terrified Sir Robert (for no one likes to hear of
his end) by the manner in which it was uttered. He was desirous to
obtain pardon, by various excuses, and the most abject humiliation,
but in vain. The Duke had received information of what was going on
at Bristol, and his excuses were frivolous. Why should I make a long
story? Sir Robert was delivered to the hangman, who led him out to the
place of execution, where he was beheaded, and then hung by the arms
to a gibbet. Thus ended Sir Robert Tresilian."

                            PIRATE TRELAWNY

Edward John Trelawny, a younger son of Charles Brereton Trelawny, came
into this world on the 2nd or 3rd of November, but in what year is not
certain. It is said that he was born in 1792, but either this is a
wrong date, or else Colonel Vivian, in his _Visitations of Cornwall_,
errs, for he gives that year as the one in which Harry Brereton
Trelawny, the eldest son, was born. Charles Brereton Trelawny was the
son of Harry Trelawny, a lieutenant-general in the army and Governor
of Landguard Fort.

Of his father, Edward John entertained no favourable opinion. "My
father, notwithstanding his increased fortune, did not increase his
expenditure; nay, he established, if possible, a stricter system of
economy. The only symptom he ever showed of imagination was
castle-building; but his fabrications were founded on a more solid
basis than is usually to be met with among the visions of
day-dreamers. No unreal mockery of fairy scenes of bliss found a
resting-place in his bosom. Ingots, money, lands, houses, and
tenements constituted his dreams. He became a mighty arithmetician by
the aid of a ready reckoner, his pocket companion; he set down to a
fraction the sterling value of all his and his wife's relations, the
heirs at law, their nearest of kin, their ages, and the state of their
constitutions. The insurance table was examined to calculate the value
of their lives; to this he added the probable chances arising from
diseases, hereditary and acquired, always forgetting his own gout. He
then determined to regulate his conduct accordingly; to maintain the
most friendly intercourse with his wealthy connexions, and to keep
aloof from the poor ones. Having no occasion to borrow, his aversion
to lending amounted to antipathy. The distrust and horror he expressed
at the slightest allusion to loans, unbacked by security and interest,
had the effect of making the most imprudent and adventurous desist
from essaying him, and continue in their necessities, or beg, or rob,
or starve, in preference to urging their wants to him.

"It was his custom to appropriate a room in the house to the
conservation of those things he loved--choice wines, foreign
preserves, cordials. This sanctum was a room on the ground floor,
under a skylight. Our next-door neighbours' pastime happened to be a
game of balls, when one of them lodged on the leaded roof of this
consecrated room. Two of my sisters, of the ages of fourteen and
sixteen, ran from the drawing-room back window to seek for the ball,
and slipping on the leads, the younger fell through the skylight on to
the bottles and jars upon the table below. She was dreadfully bruised,
and her hands, legs and face were cut, so much so, that she still
retains the scars. Her sister gave the alarm. My mother was called;
she went to the door of the store-room; her child screamed out, for
God's sake to open the door; she was bleeding to death. My mother
dared not break the lock, as my father had prohibited any one from
entering this, his blue chamber; and what was worse, he had the key.
Other keys were tried, but none could open the door. Had I been there,
my foot should have picked the lock. Will it be believed that, in that
state, my sister was compelled to await my father's return from the
House of Commons, of which he was a member? At last, when he
returned, my mother informed him of the accident, and tried to allay
the wrath which she saw gathering on his brow. He took no notice of
her, but paced forward to the closet, when the delinquent, awed by his
dreadful voice, hushed her sobs. He opened the door and found her
there, scarcely able to stand, trembling and weeping. Without speaking
a word, he kicked and cuffed her out of the room, and then gloomily
decanted what wine remained in the broken bottles."


_From a drawing by D. Lucas_]

The mother of Edward John was Maria, sister of Sir Christopher
Hawkins, of Trewithen.

That a high-spirited, self-willed, passionate boy like Edward John
should get on with such a father was antecedently improbable; and he
was sent to sea at the age of twelve in the _Superb_, and had the ill
fortune to miss the battle of Trafalgar, through Admiral Duckworth
delaying three days at Plymouth to victual his ships with mutton and

"Young as I was, I shall never forget our falling in with the _Pickle_
schooner off Trafalgar, carrying the first despatches of the battle
and death of its hero. Her commander, burning with impatience to be
the first to convey the news to England, was compelled to heave to and
come on board us. Captain Keates received him on deck, and when he
heard the news I was by his side. Silence reigned throughout the ship;
some great event was anticipated. The officers stood in groups,
watching with intense anxiety the two commanders, who walked apart.
'Battle,' 'Nelson,' 'ships,' were the only audible words which could
be gathered from their conversation. I saw the blood rush into
Keates's face; he stamped the deck, walked hurriedly, and spoke with
passion. I marvelled, for I had never before seen him much moved; he
had appeared cool, firm, and collected on all occasions, and it struck
me that some awful event had taken place, or was at hand. The Admiral
was still in his cabin, eager for news from the Nelson fleet. He was
an irritable and violent man, and after a few minutes, swelling with
wrath, he sent an order to Keates, who possibly heard it not, but
staggered along the deck, struck to the heart by the news, and, for
the first time in his life, forgot his respect to his superior in
rank; muttering, as it seemed, curses on his fate that, by the
Admiral's delay, he had not participated in the most glorious battle
in naval history. Another messenger enforced him to descend in haste
to the Admiral, who was high in rage and impatience.

"Keates, for I followed him, on entering the Admiral's cabin said in a
subdued voice, as if he were choking, 'A great battle has been fought,
two days ago, off Trafalgar. The combined fleets of France and Spain
are annihilated, and Nelson is no more!' He then murmured, 'Had we not
been detained we should have been there.'

"Duckworth answered not, conscience-struck, but stalked the deck. He
seemed ever to avoid the look of his captain, and turned to converse
with the commander of the schooner, who replied in sulky brevity,
'Yes' or 'No.' Then, dismissing him, he ordered all sail to be set,
and walked the quarter-deck alone. A death-like stillness pervaded the
ship, broken at intervals by the low murmurs of the crew and officers,
when 'battle' and 'Nelson' could alone be distinguished. Sorrow and
discontent were painted on every face.

"On the following morning we fell in with a portion of the victorious
fleet. It was blowing a gale, and they lay wrecks on the sea. Our
Admiral communicated with them, and then, joining Collingwood, had six
sail of the line put under his command, with orders to pursue that
part of the enemy's fleet which had escaped; and I joined the ship to
which I was appointed. It is unnecessary to dwell on the miseries of a
cockpit life: I found it more tolerable than my school, and little
worse than my home."

When paid off he was sent under a Scotch captain, who treated him
badly, and then he was in another vessel and resolved to desert the
service. This he did at Bombay. So far we can trust what Trelawny has
given us in that remarkable book _Adventures of a Younger Son_; but
from this point on he romances, but romances with an air of reality.
It is not possible to discriminate fact from fiction in what follows.
Undoubtedly Pirate Trelawny started on his memoirs with the intent of
writing his autobiography, but he was inordinately vain, and delighted
in posturing as a hero and in describing marvellous adventures through
which he passed, heightening them sensationally with wonderful skill.

What seems probable is that, after deserting from the navy, he was for
a while in the merchant service, and then joined a privateer cruising
in the India seas. As Mr. E. Garnett well says, "the Younger Son is an
excellent stage hero by the finish; he meets and overcomes all odds;
it is truly a glorious Trelawny--the Trelawny of his own imagination."

He states that he was married when he was twenty-one, and that the
marriage took place in England, so that he must have returned home
somewhere about 1813. But we really know nothing authentic of his
movements till 1822, when he was in England, and thence went to Italy,
where he made acquaintance with Lord Byron and with Shelley. After
the lamentable death of the latter poet he attended at the cremation
of the body. Thence he went with Byron to Greece in the _Hercules_, to
aid the Greeks against the Turks. They arrived at Cephalonia, off the
west coast, in the beginning of August, 1823, and there Lord Byron
resolved on staying till he could ascertain how things were
progressing in Greece and decide on his future course of action. This
delay did not at all suit the impetuosity of the character of
Trelawny, who called it dawdling, and set forward for the mainland in
company with Hamilton Browne, making his way to the seat of the Greek
Government. He also sent emissaries to England to endeavour to raise a
loan, and then proceeded to Athens. Here the insurgent leader Odysseus
was in command, and to his fortunes Trelawny at once attached himself,
and married the sister of the Greek chieftain.

Major Temple, resident at Santa Maura, during his mission to the Morea
in June, 1824, met Odysseus, and described him as "a perfect Albanian
chieftain--savage in manners and appearance, of great muscular
strength, and about six feet high."

He had his head-quarters in a huge cavern in the face of the limestone
precipices of Mount Parnassus, which he had strongly fortified, and in
this he kept his treasure that he had accumulated and lodged his family.
In the meantime dissension had broken out among the Greeks, between the
leaders of the bands that did all the fighting, under Kolokotroni, and
the Executive Government that had been elected by the primates, at the
head of which stood Mavrocordato. A complete rupture had ensued at the
end of 1823 between the parties, and the guerilla chieftains absolutely
refused obedience to the Provisional Government.

In the same winter of 1823-4 Trelawny accompanied Odysseus as
_aide-de-camp_ upon an expedition into Negropont, and on their return
to Athens, where Colonel Stanhope then was, Trelawny sent a letter to
his mother, of which the following is an extract:--

                                     "ATHENS, _18th February, 1824._

    "DEAR MOTHER,--I am enabled to keep twenty-five followers,
    Albanian soldiers, with whom I have joined the most enterprising
    of the Greek captains and most powerful--Ulysses. I am much with
    him, and have done my best during the winter campaign, in which we
    have besieged Negropont, to make up for the many years of idleness
    I have led. I am now in my element, and the energy of my youth is
    reawakened. I have clothed myself in the Albanian costume and
    sworn to uphold the cause.

    "Everything here is going on as well as heart can wish. Great part
    of Greece is already emancipated. The Morea is free, and we are
    making rapid progress to the westward. Lord Byron spends £5000 a
    year in the cause and maintains five hundred soldiers. This will
    in the eyes of the world redeem the follies of youth.

                                          "Your affectionate son,
                                                    "EDWARD TRELAWNY."

Trelawny and Odysseus desired to get Lord Byron to be with them, but
this plan was frustrated by the death of the poet on April 19th, 1824.

Colonel Stanhope proposed a congress of the civil and military leaders,
so as to effect a reconciliation between the two embittered elements
that were weakening the resistance against the common enemy, the Turk.
Odysseus consented to attend this meeting at Salona, and Trelawny also
agreed to be present. Mavrocordato looked on Trelawny with suspicion as
intimate with Odysseus and as his brother-in-law, and he foisted upon
him an English spy named Fenton, and an accomplice of the name of
Whitcombe, with secret instructions to make away with him.

After returning from Salona, Trelawny was with Odysseus in Eastern
Greece, carrying on the war in guerilla fashion without any great

In the autumn he was at Argos, whence a letter (certainly his, though
unsigned) was sent to his brother Lieutenant Harry Trelawny, R.N.

"... To give you an idea of the misery existing here is beyond all
expression. The town is nothing more or less than a chaos of ruins;
not a house inhabitable. The fever making great havoc, people actually
falling down in the streets. The stench of the place is so great I am
obliged to remove my quarters to the once famous Argos, not more than
an hour's walk from Agamemnon's tomb, which I have not yet seen. The
scenery is beautiful; perfectly romantic. I am now living in a house
without doors or windows, every man armed.

"The Commissioners are both sick. Mr. Bulwer has proposed to raise a
body of fifty men, but I am afraid it will all evaporate in smoke,
like all his undertakings here. I am much afraid nothing is to be
done: they look on all foreigners as intruders. Many of the French
have behaved most shamefully, but, as I told you before, I will exert
every effort. All my hopes are placed in Colonel Gordon's arrival.

                                                      "YOUR BROTHER."

       *       *       *       *       *

The Commissioners referred to were Henry Lytton Bulwer (Lord Dalling)
and J. H. Browne, sent out by the Greek Committee in London, when it
was too late, to ascertain whether the Greek Provisional Government
was sufficiently firmly established, and sufficiently trustworthy, to
warrant the paying over to it of that part of the loan raised in
England on their behalf not already advanced. The loan was of
£800,000, but from this 56.4 per cent was deducted, so that the whole
amount to be forwarded to the Greek Government would be only £348,000.

Odysseus was beset with difficulties, as the Provisional Government
refused to furnish him with men or money. Trelawny made vain attempts
to raise funds.

Ultimately Odysseus made a truce for three months with Omer Pasha, of
Negropont, but being regarded with suspicion on both sides, he
endeavoured to make his escape, and left Trelawny in charge of the
cave and its contents. It was at this time that Fenton, the hired spy,
in May, 1825, made the attempt to assassinate Trelawny. He took the
opportunity when Trelawny's back was towards him to shoot him.

Odysseus was compelled to surrender to the Government, was carried off
to Athens, where he was strangled by order of Mavrocordato.

Trelawny's wounds were so dangerous that he suffered for three months
before he could be said to have recovered, and he then escaped from
the cavern and landed in Cephalonia in September, 1825, bringing his
Albanian wife with him. During the next two years he was engaged in a
lawsuit about his wife, whom he treated with brutality, so that she
left him and retired to a convent, with purpose ultimately to proceed
to Paxo, where lived her sister. Whilst in the convent she was
delivered of a child which she sent to Trelawny to be put out to
nurse, as they objected in the convent to have the infant there.
Trelawny sent it to a woman who undertook to rear it, but it died,
whereupon, as Mr. H. Robinson of Zante wrote to Toole on 22nd
November, 1827, "he sent the dead body to the Castle Monastery, where
she (his wife) was, in a box with her things and a message from him.
The wife knew not what was in the box and refused to open it, and
there it lay until putrid.

"An examination took place with all the fuss which the courts make
about _suspicione d'infanticido_, and ended by T. being fined two
dollars for improperly removing a dead body."

In or about the month of July, 1829, Signora Trelawny made petition to
the Lord High Commissioner to the following effect:--

"It is perhaps known to Your Excellency that at about the age of
thirteen I was given in marriage to Signor Trelawny, my family urging
that I should live happily with one brought up in the courtesy and
good-breeding of his country; but, as my experience proved, he failed
to treat me with that consideration and nobility of character which
distinguish the men of his nation. The nature of the long-continued
treatment which I have had to endure at the hands of the said Signor
Trelawny is not unknown, and at the last, it is perhaps within Your
Excellency's recollection that he brought grief to my very eyes by
sending me while in the convent, with cunning and brutality, the dead
body of my daughter and his."

She then stated that Zante had become lonely for her, as her brothers
and mother had gone to Greece. She wanted to go to Paxo to her sister,
but the custom of Zante obliged a wife separated from her husband to
live in a convent.

She continued: "I venture humbly to ask Your Excellency if, being the
wife of an Englishman, I ought to be subject to the custom of the island
in which I chance to find myself a resident. Should an Englishwoman be
subjected to such treatment as I am?... I promise Your Excellency that,
in whatever place or situation I find myself, I will conduct myself
always as is proper for the wife of an English gentleman; and though he
himself may be wanting in dignity of behaviour, I will do neither him
nor myself the dishonour of imitating him.

                                         "TERSITZA PHILIPPA TRELAWNY."

       *       *       *       *       *

This petition and the letter of Mr. Robinson suffice to show that the
story of Trelawny sending his dead child in a box to its mother is not
to be rejected as a fable, as it has been by the author of the notice
on Edward John Trelawny in the _Dictionary of National Biography_.[27]
The poor unfortunate girl, then aged seventeen, obtained a separation
from her husband _a mensa et thoro_, by a sentence of the
Ecclesiastical Court, and by definitive sentences of the courts of law
in Zante and Corfu she was entitled to an aliment from her husband of
twenty-five dollars a month, for the payment of which Mr. Barff, the
banker of Zante, and Mr. Stevens, of Corfu, were securities. But this
was the result of much litigation, causing Trelawny annoyance and
angering him to the last degree.

In the autumn of 1828 he visited England, but returned to the Continent
in the spring of the following year, feeling out of his element at home.
"To whom am I a neighbour?" he wrote, "and near whom? I dwell amongst
tame and civilized human beings with somewhat the same feelings as we
may guess the lion feels when, torn from his native wildness, he is
tortured into domestic intercourse with what Shakespeare calls 'forked
animals,' the most abhorrent to his nature." He rambled about; set up a
harem in Athens, bought a Moorish girl to be his concubine, wrote his
_Adventures of a Younger Son_, and sent the MS. in 1830 to Mrs. Shelley,
and it was published in three volumes in 1831, with some excisions of
grossness and licentiousness, which the publisher insisted on having
removed. As already said, no reliance can be placed on this
autobiography as a narrative of the facts of his life, except only of
his boyhood, for, as Lord Byron said of Trelawny, "he could not speak
the truth even if he wished to do so."

When the book appeared, the _Athenæum_ considered the hero--Trelawny
himself--"a kind of ruffian from his birth," as he had painted himself,
leaving out the villainies and brutalities of which he had been guilty.

He was thrice married, and behaved badly to all three wives. He could
not be faithful and generous even to his friends. With Byron he had
been most intimate, yet when Byron died he wrote to Mary Shelley: "It
is well for his name, and better for Greece, that Byron is dead.... I
now feel my face burn with shame that so weak and ignoble a soul could
so long have influenced me. It is a degrading reflection, and ever
will be. I wish he had lived a little longer, that he might have
witnessed how I would have soared above him here, how I would have
triumphed over his mean spirit." Trelawny soaring!--as a vulture only
in quest of carrion.

And when, in 1858, he published his _Recollections of Shelley and
Byron_, thirty-four years after the death of the latter, he painted
Byron in the harshest colours; and one can hardly escape feeling that
this was prompted by jealousy of the esteem in which the world held
Byron for his genius. He himself possessed all the bad qualities that
he despised in Byron, but did not recognize in himself the superadded
brutality which Byron was too much a gentleman to show.

Even Mrs. Shelley, a lifelong friend and correspondent, to whom he had
often poured out his heart, and whom he had contemplated at one time
marrying, could not be spoken of by him after her death but in
disparagement and with a revelation to the world of her little

He was in England again in 1835, went into society, and married for
the third time, to make another woman miserable. For a number of years
he lived at Putney Hill, and then took a farm at Usk, in
Monmouthshire, and amused himself with farming.

In or about 1870, Trelawny, then seventy-eight years old, bought a
house and a small plot of land at Sompting, near Wortham, and occupied
himself with gardening. One day two men with guns in their hands
requested permission to enter his grounds after a bird that had taken
refuge there. He answered fiercely, "All the leave I will accord you
is to shoot one another."

At Sompting, Trelawny died on August 13th, 1881, at the age of
eighty-six. In accordance with his wish to be laid beside Shelley, his
body was embalmed in England, cremated at Gotha, and the ashes taken
to the Protestant burial-ground in Rome, and laid in the tomb he had
bought fifty-eight years before, next to those of his friend.

Trelawny was a very handsome man, tall and well built; he had flashing
dark eyes under beetling brows, and an aquiline nose, raven-black
hair, and a dusky, Spanish complexion. He spoke very loud. He retained
his good looks to the end of his days.

Shelley described him in _Fragments of an Unfinished Drama_:--

          He was as is the sun in his fierce youth,
          As terrible and lovely as a tempest.

In Millais' painting of "The North-West Passage," exhibited in the
Royal Academy in 1874, the old sailor is a portrait of Captain
Trelawny; and it has been conjectured that Thackeray delineated him as
Captain Sumph in _Pendennis_, I, cap. 35.

The authorities for Trelawny's life are, beside the first part of his
_Adventures of a Younger Son_, his _Recollections of Shelley and
Byron_, 1858; the new edition of the work, published in 1878, was
called _Records of Shelley, Byron, and the Author_.

Mr. R. Garnett has a notice of the life of Trelawny prefixed to the
edition of the _Adventures of a Younger Son_ of 1890. A lengthy life
of Trelawny is in the _Dictionary of National Biography_. An error in
this is pointed out by Mr. T. C. Down in the article on "Pirate
Trelawny" already referred to and quoted from.

A pleasant account of "Mr. Trelawny and his Friends" appeared in the
_Contemporary Review_ for 1878.

Something further about him may be gleaned from Frances A. Kemble's
_Records of a Girlhood_, 1878, III, 75, 308-12. There are corrections
of some of Trelawny's inaccuracies in D. Guido Biagi's _The Last Days
of Percy Bysshe Shelley_, 1898.


[27] See for the above and more on the subject of "Pirate Trelawny" an
article by T. C. Down in the _Nineteenth Century_, May, 1907.

                         JAMES SILK BUCKINGHAM

Mr. S. C. Hall, writing after the death of J. S. Buckingham, thus
expressed his opinion of this truly remarkable man: "Whatever, during
his life, envy, jealousy, monopolous interest or satirical hostility may
have said to the contrary, there can be little doubt, now he is gone,
that the late Mr. James Silk Buckingham was amongst the most useful as
well as the most hopeful and industrious men of his time. His career was
one remarkable illustration of the well-known line of the old song,
'It's wonderful what we can do if we try'; for at almost every step he
took he was met by some disaster or annoyance, yet kept pressing on with
the most dauntless persistence, making the best of the worst
circumstances, and even when failing in his own personal endeavours,
giving such an impulse to the powers of others in whatever cause or
course he had engaged, that the end in view was generally attained, and
in several notable instances within the period of his own life."

The Buckinghams were a North Devon family, and the grandfather of the
subject of this notice had lived in Barnstaple. For several
generations they had been connected with the sea. Christopher
Buckingham settled at Flushing on a small farm, along with his wife
Thomazine, daughter of a Hambley of Bodmin.

James Silk describes his father as wearing a cocked hat, long,
square-tailed coat with large pockets and sleeves, square-toed shoes
with silver buckles, and as walking abroad carrying a tall,
gold-headed cane.

James Silk was born at Flushing on the 25th August, 1786. He had two
brothers and a sister. His father died in 1794.

"The port of Falmouth," wrote he in his unfinished memoirs, "being
nearest to the entrance of the Channel, there were permanently
stationed here two squadrons of frigates, one under the command of Sir
Edward Pellew (afterwards Lord Exmouth), the other under the command
of Sir John Borlase Warren. The former, as commodore, hoisted his
pennant on the _Indefatigable_, the latter on the _Révolutionaire_.
Each squadron consisted of five frigates of thirty-two and forty-four
guns each; and, in addition to these, there were continually arriving
and departing from Carrick Roads, the outer anchorage of Falmouth,
line-of-battle ships and smaller vessels of war; while the prizes
taken from the French were constantly brought into the port for
adjudication and sale. There were two large prisons, with open courts,
for the reception of the French prisoners thus taken, and every month
added many to their inmates.

"Both the naval commodores, as well as such captains of the frigates
belonging to the squadrons as were married, had their families residing
at Flushing, and the numerous officers of different grades, from the
youngest midshipman to the first lieutenant, were continually coming and
going to and fro ... so that the little village literally sparkled with
gold epaulets and gold-laced hats and brilliant uniforms."

He tells a curious story of his childhood. Corn, owing to the war, had
mounted to famine price, and the miners of Cornwall went about in
gangs waging war against all forestallers, regraters, and hoarders
of grain, and demolishing bakers' shops, mills, and grain stores.


"A body of some three or four hundred of these men entered Flushing,
and as they were all dressed in the mud-stained smock frocks and
trousers in which they worked underground, all armed with large clubs
and sticks of various kinds, and speaking an uncouth jargon, which
none but themselves could understand, they struck terror wherever they
went. Their numbers were quite equal to the whole adult male
population of the little village, so that the men stood aghast, the
women retired into their houses, and closed their doors, and the
children seemed struck dumb with affright. The moment of their visit,
too, was most inopportune, for on that very day a large party of the
captains and officers of the packets residing at Flushing were
occupied in storing a cargo of grain that had just been discharged
from a coasting vessel at the quay, and locking it up in warehouses to
secure it from plunder."

At this time it happened that all the ships of war were absent on
their cruising grounds. The situation was dangerous, and the men
threatened an attack on the warehouses, and were muttering and
brandishing their clubs, and falling into ranks, when Captain
Kempthorne snatched up little James Silk, then an urchin of six or
seven, seated him on a sack of corn, and bade him strike up a hymn.

With his shrill little pipe, he started--

          Salvation, O! the joyful sound,
            'Tis music to our ears.

Whereupon at once the mob took up the chant, sang the hymn, with their
strong masculine lungs; the clubs were let fall, and, the hymn ended,
they dispersed harmlessly.

James Silk went to sea in the _Lady Harriet_, a Government packet. On
his third voyage to Lisbon he was captured by a French corvette and
assigned to prison at Corunna; he was then about ten years old, and
the gaoler's daughter of the same age fell in love with him, and
softened the rigour of his captivity by bringing him dainties from her
father's table. She tried to induce the boy to elope with her, but
James had sufficient English common sense not to accept the offer, and
finally he was sent to Lisbon, obliged to tramp the whole way, several
hundred miles, barefooted, and begging food and a lodging on his way.
At Lisbon he was taken on board the _Prince of Wales_, and returned to
England, where his mother induced him to leave the sea, and provided
him with a small stationer's and bookseller's shop on the Fish Strand,
Falmouth. His mother died in 1804, and when James Silk was aged only
nineteen he married Elizabeth Jennings, a farmer's daughter. He got
tired of being a shopkeeper and volunteered on board a man-of-war; but
on seeing a seaman flogged round the fleet for mutiny, was so
disgusted with the sight that he deserted, and started a bookshop at
Plymouth Dock. However one of the trustees of his wife's inheritance
had speculated with the money in smuggling ventures and lost all, so
that J. S. Buckingham became bankrupt. He went to sea again, and was
appointed chief officer on board the _Titus_, bound for Trinidad,
Captain Jennings, perhaps a kinsman of his wife.

At the age of twenty-two he became commander of a vessel, and made
several voyages to the West Indies and in the Mediterranean. In these
latter he rapidly acquired a knowledge of and even fluency in speech
in French, Italian, Greek, and Arabic, and this determined him to
undertake mercantile life at Malta; but the plague having broken out
there in 1818, he was prevented from landing, and resolved to try his
fortune at Smyrna, but was unsuccessful. He then went to Alexandria,
and thence to Cairo, where he made the acquaintance and gained the
esteem of Mahomet Ali, then Pasha of Egypt.

He now formed the scheme of connecting the Red Sea with the
Mediterranean by a canal, and for this purpose surveyed the Isthmus of
Suez and convinced himself that the cutting of such a waterway was
quite feasible, and that such a connection would be of enormous
advantage to English trade with India. He laid his plans before
Mahomet Ali. "No sooner had the idea of renewing the ancient commerce
between India and the Mediterranean by way of the Red Sea taken
possession of my mind," wrote Buckingham, "than I began to think how
much this would be facilitated by the juncture of the two seas by a
navigable canal; and I bent all my thoughts to the object." But
Mahomet Ali would not hear of the project. He shrewdly asked, "Whose
ships would mostly use the canal?"

"The English vessels assuredly."

"Ah! and then the English would begin to think how nice it would be to
have Egypt so as to secure the passage. I am not going to sharpen the
knife that would cut my own throat."

The Pasha had a plan of his own; he had purchased two beautiful
American brigs then in the harbour of Alexandria, and he proposed
arming them and sending them round the Cape of Good Hope into the Red
Sea, for he desired to open up a trade with Egypt from India. But
Buckingham pointed out to him that he could not do this without great
risk of losing them, as the East India Company had supreme command of
all the Indian Ocean eastward of the Cape, and would seize and
confiscate all vessels found in those seas without their licence,
French and Portuguese vessels alone excepted.

James S. Buckingham now ascended the Nile beyond the cataracts to
Nubia, but was there seized with ophthalmic blindness. To add to his
distress, on his way to Kosseir he was attacked in the desert by a
band of mutineers of the army of the Pasha, who plundered and left him
entirely naked on the barren waste, many miles from any village, food,
or water; and even when he reached Kosseir, he was obliged to retrace
his steps, as the vessel which should have conveyed him forward had
been seized by the mutineers.

Buckingham next occupied himself with an endeavour to master the
hydrography of the Red Sea, visiting every part in the costume of a
Bedouin Arab.

The Pasha now proposed to him that he should go to India and sound the
merchants there as to establishing a through trade to Europe by the
Red Sea, and a Company of Anglo-Egyptian merchants took the matter up
with zest. But on his proceeding to Bombay he found that the
proposition was coldly received.

Whilst there, in May, 1815, Buckingham had the offer of the command of
the _Humayoon Shah_, a vessel built at the Portuguese port of Damann,
north of Bombay, by the Imaum of Muscat, for trade with China. The
retiring captain, named Richardson, in three successive voyages had
cleared £30,000, and the situation had been sought by several of the
marine officers of the East India Company. When these disappointed men
heard that Buckingham had secured the appointment, they were angry,
and applied to the Company to eject him from India and close every
port there in their power against him. This they did by refusing him a
licence to remain in India.

The British Government, in granting a charter of exclusive trade to
India and China to the East India Company, gave that Company thereby a
right to expel from their dominions all British-born subjects who had
not their licence to reside there, this being deemed necessary to
protect them from the competition of "interlopers" as they were
called, who might undersell them in their own markets. But though the
British Government might thus condemn all the twenty million of its
own native-born subjects to this state of ignominious dependence on
the will or caprice of a handful of monopolists, a body of some
twenty-four directors only--in whose hands lay the power of granting
licences or banishing those who did not possess them--it could not
authorize the exercise of such powers against the natives of any
foreign state; consequently James Silk Buckingham was advised to
become nationalized as an American citizen, in which case the East
India Company would be powerless to expel him.

In point of fact, the case stood thus: all foreigners who had no natural
claim on India as a part of their dominions might visit it freely and
reside and trade in it as long as they pleased, without licence from its
rulers; whereas British-born subjects, who had contributed by their
payment of taxes to support the very Government that made the charter,
were unjustly excluded, although the conquest of India had been made by
British blood and British treasure, and the country was still held under
the British flag. In short, all foreigners were free men there, and the
freeborn Englishman alone was a slave.

Buckingham so felt the iniquity of this system that later, when he
came to England, he agitated and wrote against the continuance of the

Buckingham returned to Egypt and occupied himself with making a chart
of the Red Sea. But the Anglo-Egyptian merchants, not relishing their
defeat by the East India Company, entered into a compact with Mahomet
Ali to send Buckingham to India as his envoy and representative; and
as such the Company could not refuse to allow him to reside there.
Accordingly, habited as a Mussulman, turbaned and long-robed, with his
speaking eye, jovial face, and dark, flowing beard, he looked every
inch of him a true-born Oriental, and his extraordinary knowledge of
various languages stood him in good stead as he made his way overland
to India, by Palestine and Bagdad. Proceeding still on his course, he
entered Persia, crossed the chain of the Zagros, and embarked at
Bushir in a man-of-war of the East India Company that was bound on an
expedition against some Wahabee pirates in the Persian Gulf, and going
ashore at Ras el Khyma, acted as interpreter to Captain Brydges,
Commander of the Squadron, assisted in bombarding the town, and then
proceeded to Bombay, which he reached after a journey of twelve
months. But his mission was again unsuccessful; either the Bombay
merchants had no confidence in the Egyptian Government, or they were
jealous of any interference with their own line of trade.

Now, however, the Company's licence reached him, authorizing him to
remain in their territories, and he regained the appointment to the
vessel _Humayoon Shah_, in the service of the Imaum of Muscat, and he
remained navigating the Eastern waters till Midsummer, 1818, when,
having received commands from the Imaum to proceed to the coast of
Zanzibar, on a slaving expedition, he threw up his engagement, worth
£4000 per annum, rather than be implicated in such a nefarious trade.

Buckingham next became proprietor and editor of the _Calcutta Mirror_, a
Liberal paper, that instantly obtained an extensive sale, and brought in
to its founder a net profit of £8000 a year. But his resolute advocacy
of Free Trade, free settlement, and free Press, and an exposure of the
misdoings of the East India Company, brought down on him the heavy hand
of Mr. John Adams, the temporary Governor-General. His paper was
suppressed, and he was ordered to quit Calcutta. His little fortune was
sacrificed in a vain attempt to fight the Governor and the Company, and
he was thrown back on the world, almost as poor, save in experience, as
when a youth he trudged from Corunna to Lisbon. He left his magnificent
library at Calcutta, in the hopes of being able to return, after having
obtained redress at home. But the redress he hoped for never came. Too
many interests were involved to accord it to him, and his library, like
his fortune and his hopes, was wrecked.

It was not till after many dreary years, that the East India Company,
under pressure from the Government, could be induced, as an indemnity
for the wrongs done him, to accord him an annuity of £200, in addition
to one of the like amount awarded him by the British Government, "in
consideration of his literary works, and useful travels in various
countries," September 1st, 1851. "Pompey and Cæsar berry much alike."

"The blow to him at Calcutta was altogether a very savage one," says Mr.
S. C. Hall, "but, like all injustice, it recoiled at length on those who
gave it. From the hour that Buckingham was driven from that city
(Calcutta), the power of the great Indian monopoly, both commercial and
governmental, was doomed. It was by no means his case alone which
accomplished that doom. But oppression and vindictiveness, by driving
him home, made him for a time the representative there of voices that
never entirely slept; whilst the impolicy that had aroused them was
persevered in to the last--not ceasing, even after the trade was thrown
open, but at length provoking that rebellion which was followed by John
Company finally having to make an assignment of his whole estate and
effects to John Bull." In England Buckingham started the _Athenæum_, a
literary weekly, but did not long retain it in his hand; he was not, in
fact, qualified for its editorship. He was a Liberal politician _avant
tout_, and a _littérateur_ only in a second or third place.

In 1832, the Reform Bill was passed, and the same general election
that sent Wm. Cobbett to the House of Commons for Oldham, sent James
S. Buckingham from Sheffield, for the avowed purpose of giving him the
best standpoint possible from which to assail the East Indian
monopoly. That Company had never made a more fatal mistake than when
it persecuted and drove him from India. Buckingham was a theme for
caricature in _Punch_ from 1845-1848.

It is open to question whether the East India Company could have
engaged J. S. Buckingham's services if, instead of hounding him out of
India, they had endeavoured to secure a man of such exceptional
ability and intense resolution of purpose in its service. In heart and
soul he was opposed to a monopoly, and if he had been engaged, he
would have accepted an engagement only for the purpose of remedying
some of the abuses of their government, and rectifying some of the
injustices done. But he was so utterly and conscientiously opposed to
the whole system, that it is more than doubtful whether he would have
met favourably any overtures made to him.

In England an excellent conception of his, which he was able to
realize, was the foundation of the "British and Foreign Institute." To
this he was moved by seeing so many Orientals and others adrift in
London, without any centre where they could meet and communicate their
ideas with statesmen and politicians of Great Britain, and where they
might gather for refreshment of mind and body alike. The Duke of
Cambridge became President, and the Society attracted to its soirées
the literary and intellectual of all lands.

His pen and his voice were employed for some years in advocating

He died on June 20th, 1855, in his seventieth year, and his wife died
in the house of her son-in-law, Henry R. Dewey, 22nd January, 1865, at
the age of eighty.

It is greatly to be regretted that he did not live to complete his
Memoirs. He had two sons--James, who died in Jamaica, 1867, and
Leicester Forbes Young Buckingham, who ran away with an actress,
Caroline Connor, and married her at Gretna Green, 5th April, 1844. She
had made her first appearance on the London stage at the Haymarket
Theatre in 1842. The marriage was not happy and they separated, she to
return to the stage, where she acted under the name of Mrs. Buckingham
White. He died at Margate 17th July, 1867.

                      MARY ANN DAVENPORT, ACTRESS

Mary Ann Harvey was born in Launceston in 1759, and was educated at
Bath, where she was seized with a passion for the stage, and made her
first appearance on the boards at Bath as Lappet in _The Miser_ in 1779.

She remained at Bath two years, and during her residence there is thus
described by an eye-witness of her performances: "Miss Harvey, about
the years 1785 and 1786, was a lively, animated, bustling actress;
arch, and of exuberant spirits. Her style was pointed and energetic;
perhaps, indeed, she had less ease than was altogether the thing; but
when she had to speak satirically or in irony--when, in fact, she had
to convey one idea to the person on the stage with her and another to
the audience, she was alone and inimitable; she did not carry you away
with her so much as many young actresses that I have seen, but she
always satisfied you more amply. Then her voice--what a voice hers
was! Nay, what a voice she has still, though it has had a pretty fair
exercise for the last half century and upwards. Then it had all the
clearness for which it is even now distinguishable; and it had,
besides, a witching softness of tone that knew no equal then, and that
I have never heard exceeded since."

There was an _espiègle_ charm about her; she was not exactly
beautiful, but had a witchery of face and of manner that was
unsurpassed by any of her fellow-actresses, who may have possessed
more regularity of feature.

[Illustration: _M^{rs}. Davenport_,

in the Character of M^{rs}. Grundy]

She was not baptized at Launceston, S. Mary Magdalen. Harvey was a
common name at the time in the place; a Harvey was a builder, another a
hatmaker, another a carrier. There were a Joseph Harvey and Catherine
Penwarden married 27th January, 1756. These may have been her parents.

After leaving Bath, Miss Harvey joined the Exeter company, and there met
and married Mr. Davenport, an actor of ordinary talent and low comedy.

After she had been married a short while, Mrs. Davenport went to
Birmingham, where she remained a considerable time in hopes of
obtaining an engagement. But disappointed in this expectation, she
accepted an offer from Dublin, where Daly had opened his theatre, and
there she made her debut as Rosalind in _As You Like It_, a character
exactly suited to her, and in which she aroused great enthusiasm. Her
graceful figure, her voice, now full of tenderness, then of arch
humour, and her expressive face admirably suited the part. She
moreover performed the part of Fulmer in the _West Indian_. The
_Authentic Memoirs of the Green Room_ for 1796 says: "Mrs. Davenport a
tolerable substitute for Mrs. Webb, though not near so great.

          The Davenports, tho' not of play'rs the first,
          Are far from being in old folks the worst."

In 1794 she first performed at Covent Garden, as Mrs. Hardcastle, in
_She Stoops to Conquer_, and at that theatre she continued without a
rival till 1831, and occasionally filled up vacancies at the
Haymarket. Mr. Davenport died in 1841; by him she had a son and a
daughter. The former died in India, the latter in England.

Robson, in _The Old Playgoer_, says: "Brunton being the tall 'walking
gentleman,' there is no one else worth mentioning but dear, dear
Davenport, most truly not least though last. Lord! what a scream she
would give if she knew I was about to show her up! I can just remember
Mrs. Mattocks and Miss Pope.... But Mrs. Davenport was the McTab, the
Malaprop, the Nurse whose bantling, 'stinted and cried aye,' with a
villainous pain in her back, and a man Peter to carry her fan; the
'old mother Brulgruddery'; the Dame Ashfield with a 'damned bunch of
keys,' who immortalized 'What will Missus Grundy say to that?' and
would persuade a gentleman to put a ham under each arm and a turkey
into his pocket; Jeremy Diddler's beautiful maid at the foot of the
hill, who 'blushed like a red cabbage'; heigho! all visions--all gone.

"It was said of Mrs. Jordan that her laugh would have made the fortune
of any actress if she had not had the wit to bring out one word to
support it; but Mrs. Davenport's strong point was her scream. I wonder
whether she ever indulged her husband with it in the course of a curtain
lecture! Mercy on his nerves if she did! The appearance of her jolly red
face was the presage of mirth, and her scream the signal for a roar of
laughter. Good, cheerful soul! though an _old woman_ forty years, she
outlived nearly all her play-fellows, comfortably, happily, I hope."[28]

As an old lady her most celebrated personifications were the Nurse in
_Romeo and Juliet_, at which, in later times, she was hardly surpassed
by Mrs. Stirling.

The writer of the memoir in the _Georgian Æra_ says of her: "It has
not been inaptly said of her, that in the vulgar loquacity of the
would-be youthful Mrs. Hardcastle--the ugliness of the antiquated
virgin, Miss Durable--the imbecility of four score in Mrs. Nicely--the
sturdy brutality of Mrs. Brulgruddery--the warm-hearted cottager in
_Lovers' Vows_--the attempted elegances of Mrs. Dowlas--the fiery
humoured Dame Quickly--and the obtuse intellect of Deborah, she
overcame all rivalry."

In the edition of the _Authentic Memoirs of the Green Room_ for 1806 it
is said, after a mention of Mr. Davenport: "Wife to the above, and of
primary utility in a theatre as the representative of low, vulgar, and
antiquated characters. In this line she has not her superior on the
London stage. Her Mrs. Thorne in the _Birthday_, Lady Duberly in the
_Heir at Law_, Dame Ashfield in _Speed the Plough_, Widow Warren in _The
Road to Ruin_, Widow Cheshire in the _Agreeable Surprise_, Mrs. Pickle
in the _Spoiled Child_, with a long and diversified list of parts of a
similar description, deservedly rated high in the scale of histrionic
excellence--and what greatly enhances her value, she is not less to be
prized for the generality than for the intensive merit of her
performances. Wide and extensive as is the range of parts which she
sustains, there is not a single character in the whole list in which she
does not acquit herself with distinguished talent and ability."

This bright and merry actress was run over by a dray on July 20th,
1841, and died in S. Bartholomew's Hospital on May 8th, 1843, after a
lingering illness, at the age of eighty-four.


[28] _The Old Playgoer_, 1854, pp. 82-4.

                      THE ROYAL FAMILY OF PRUSSIA

"Over against Mousehole, across the great bay of Penzance, is Cudden
Point, jutting out into the sea, forming one horn of a promontory of
which the Enys forms the other, looking in the opposite direction.
Between these two lie three little coves, that of the Pixies, too
exposed and rocky for a harbour, but with its sides riddled with caves.

"Bessie's, called after Bessie Burrow, who kept the _Kidleywink_ on
the cliff, which was the great resort of the smugglers, bears on its
face to-day the traces of its history. A spot so sheltered and
secluded that it is impossible to see what boats are in the little
harbour until one literally leans over the edge of the cliff above; a
harbour cut out of the solid rock, and a roadway with wheel tracks
partly cut and partly worn, crossing the rocks below high-water mark;
and, climbing up the face of the cliff on each side of the cove, caves
and remains of caves everywhere, some with their mouths built up,
which are reputed to be connected with the house above by secret
passages. These are the trade marks of Bessie's Cove, and the world
has not yet known the degree of innocence which could believe that
these were made for the convenience of a few crabbers.

"The eastern and the most open is Prussia Cove. Here still stands
to-day the house in which John Carter, 'the King of Prussia,' lived
and reigned from 1770 to 1807."[29]


_From a drawing by A. Chevallier Taylor in the possession of J. B.
Cornish, Esq._]

The origin of the Carter family is obscure. It is supposed to have come
from Shropshire, and the name is not Cornish. But what could have
brought it to this wild and remote spot in the south-west is quite
unknown. The father, Francis Carter, was born in 1712 and died in 1774,
and his wife, Agnes, died in 1784. They had eight sons and two
daughters. The eldest of the sons was John, the famous Cornish King of
Prussia. He obtained this nickname in the following manner: He and other
boys were playing at soldiers, and the renown of Frederick the Great
having reached him, John dubbed himself the King of Prussia, and the
title not only adhered to him through life, but he has bequeathed the
name of Prussia to the cove, which formerly bore that of Porthleah.

John Carter, when he grew to man's estate, made himself fame as a
daring smuggler, and he was ably seconded by his brother Henry, who
contrived to his own satisfaction to combine perfervid piety with
cheating the customs.

Smuggling in those days was carried on upon a large scale, in cutters
and luggers armed with eighteen or twenty guns apiece. Harry Carter,
in his autobiography, says: "I think I might have been twenty-five
when I went in a small sloop about sixteen or eighteen tons, with two
men besides myself as smugglers, when I had very great success, and
after a while I had a new sloop built for me, about thirty-two tons.
My success was rather beyond common, and after a time we bought a
small cutter of about fifty tons, and about ten men." The measurements
at the present day would be ten, eighteen, and thirty tons.

John Carter was never caught. On one occasion the revenue officers
came to his house and demanded to ransack his sheds. One of these was
locked, and he refused to surrender the key, whereupon they broke it
open, but found that it contained only household articles. As they
were unable to refasten the door, the shed remained open all night,
and by morning everything it had contained had disappeared. The "King"
thereupon sued the officers for all his goods that had been taken from
him. It is perhaps needless to say that he had himself conveyed them
away. The officers had to refund the losses.

On one occasion when John Carter was absent from home, the excise
officers from Penzance came to Prussia Cove in their boats and
succeeded in securing a cargo lately arrived from France. They carried
it to Penzance and placed it under lock and key in the custom-house.
Carter, on his return, heard of the capture. He was highly incensed,
for the brandy had all been promised to some of the gentry round, and
he was not the man to receive an order and fail to execute it.
Accordingly, he made up his mind to recover the whole cargo. Assisted
by his mates, in the night he broke into the custom-house store and
removed every barrel that had been taken from him.

Next morning, when the officers saw what had been done, they knew who
the perpetrator was, for nothing had been touched and removed but what
the "King" claimed as his own; and these smugglers prided themselves
on being "all honourable men."

The most famous episode in John Carter's career was his firing on the
boat of the revenue cutter _The Faery_. A smuggling vessel, hard
pressed, ran through a narrow channel among the rocks between the Enys
and the shore. The cutter, not daring to venture nearer, sent her boat
in; whereupon Carter opened fire upon her from an improvised battery in
which he had mounted several small cannon. The boat had to withdraw.
Next morning the fight was resumed, _The Faery_ opening fire from the
sea. But in the meantime mounted soldiers from Penzance had arrived, and
these fired from the top of the hill upon those working the guns in the
battery, taking them in the rear. This was more than the smugglers could
stand, and they retreated to Bessie Burrow's house, and were not further
molested, the soldiers contenting themselves with remounting their
horses and riding back to Penzance. Unfortunately, with regard to John
Carter, the "King of Prussia," we have but scattered notices and
tradition to rely upon; but it is otherwise with his brother Henry, who
has left an autobiography that has been transcribed and published by Mr.
J. B. Cornish under the title _The Autobiography of a Cornish Smuggler_,
London (Gibbons and Co.), 1900.

But Harry Carter is somewhat reticent about the doings of the
smugglers, and avoids giving names, for when he wrote "free trade" was
in full swing. He wrote in 1809, when John his brother and the "Cove
boys" were still at it, and Prussia Cove had not ceased to be a great
centre of smugglers. He is much more concerned to record his religious
experiences, all of which we could well spare for fuller details of
the goings-on of his brothers and their comrades.

In 1778 an embargo was laid on all English trade, when the French
Government made a treaty with the States of America, and not knowing
of this, Henry Carter was arrested at S. Malo, and his cutter, with
sixteen guns and thirty-six men, taken from him. He was sent to the
prison at Dinan; and in like manner his brother John was taken, and
they were allowed to remain on parole at Josselin till the November of
1779, when they were exchanged by order of the Lords of the Admiralty
for two French gentlemen. "So, after I was at home some time, riding
about the country getting freights, collecting money for the company,
etc., we bought a cutter about 160 tons (50 tons), nineteen guns. I
went in her some time smuggling. I had great success."

In January, 1788, he went with a freight to Cawsand in a lugger of 45
tons in modern measurement, and mounting sixteen carriage guns. But he
was boarded, and so cut about the head, and his nose nearly severed in
two, that he fell bleeding on the deck.

"I suppose I might have been there about a quarter of an hour, until
they had secured my people below, and after found me lying on the deck.
One of them said, 'Here is one of the poor fellows dead.' Another made
answer, 'Put the man below.' He answered again, 'What use is it to put a
dead man below?' and so passed on. So I laid there very quiet for near
the space of two hours, hearing their discourse as they walked by me,
the night being very dark on the 30th January, 1788. The commanding
officer gave orders for a lantern to be brought, so they took up one of
my legs as I was lying upon my belly; he let it go, and it fell as dead
down on the deck. He likewise put his hand up under my clothes, between
my shirt and my skin, and then examined my head, and so concluded,
saying, 'The man is so warm now as he was two hours back, but his head
is all to atoms.' The water being ebbing, the vessel (that was grounded)
making a great heel to the shore, so that in the course of a very little
time after, as their two boats was made fast alongside, one of them
broke adrift. Immediately there was orders given to man the other boat
in order to fetch her, so that when I saw them in this state of
confusion, their guard broken, I thought it was my time to make my
escape, so I crept on my belly on the deck, and got over a large raft
just before the mainmast, close by one of the men's heels, as he was
standing there handing the trysail. When I got over the lee-side I
thought I should be able to swim on shore in a stroke or two. I took
hold of the burtons of the mast, and as I was lifting myself over the
side I was taken with the cramp in one of my thighs. So then I thought I
should be drowned, but still willing to risk it, so that I let myself
over the side very easily by a rope into the water. As I was very near
the shore, I thought to swim on shore in the course of a stroke or two,
but soon found my mistake. I was sinking almost like a stone, and
hauling astern in deeper water, when I gave up all hopes of life and
began to swallow some water. I found a rope under my breast, so that I
had not lost my senses. I hauled upon it, and soon found one end fast to
the side just where I went overboard, which gave me a little hope of
life. So that when I got there, I could not tell which was best, to call
to the man-of-war's men to take me in, or to stay there and die, for my
life and strength were almost exhausted. But whilst I was thinking of
this, touched bottom with my feet. Hope then sprang up, and I soon found
another rope, leading towards the head of the vessel in shoaler water,
so that I veered upon one and hauled upon the other, that brought me
under the bowsprit, and then at times upon the send of a sea, my feet
were almost dry. I let go the rope, but as soon as I attempted to run
fell down, and as I fell, looking round about me, I saw three men
standing close by. I knew they were the man-of-war's men seeking for
the boat, so I lay there quiet for some little time, and then crept upon
my belly I suppose about the distance of fifty yards, and as the ground
was scuddy, some flat rock mixed with channels of sand, I saw before me
a channel of white sand, and for fear to be seen creeping over it, which
would take some time, not knowing there was anything the matter with me,
made the second attempt to run, and fell in the same manner as before.

"My brother Charles being there, looking out for the vessel, desired
some Cawsand men to go down to see if they could pick up any of the
men dead or alive, not expecting ever to see me any more, almost sure
I was either shot or drowned. One of them saw me fall, ran to my
assistance, and taking hold of me under the arm, says, 'Who are you?'
So, as I thought him to be an enemy, made no answer. He said, 'Fear
not; I am a friend. Come with me.' And by that time were come two
more, which took me under both arms, and the other pushed me in the
back, and so dragged me up to the town. My strength was almost
exhausted. They took me into a room where were seven or eight Cawsand
men and my brother Charles, and when he saw me he knew me by my great
coat, and cried with joy. So then they immediately stripped off my wet
clothes, and sent for a doctor and put me to bed. The bone of my nose
was cut right in two, nothing but a bit of skin holding it, and two
very large cuts in my head, that two or three pieces of my skull
worked out of afterwards."

He was now hurried off in a chaise to his brother Charles' house,
where he remained for a week. Then as a reward of three hundred pounds
was offered for his apprehension, he was conveyed to a gentleman's
house in Marazion, where he remained concealed for two or three
weeks, and thence was taken to Acton House, belonging to Mr. John
Stackhouse, but only for a while, and shifted back to Marazion. Then
again to the castle. The surgeon who was called in to attend him was
blindfolded by the men sent to fetch him and conducted to the
hiding-place of Henry Carter.


_Demolished in 1906_]

In October he sailed for Leghorn, then on the same vessel loaded at
Barcelona with brandy for New York. It was no longer safe for him to
remain in England till the affair was blown over, and he did not return
till October in the year 1790, and was soon again engaged in alternate
preaching in Methodist chapels, and in smuggling brandy from Roscoff. On
one of these excursions in 1793 he was arrested at Roscoff, as war had
been declared between France and England. This was during the Reign of
Terror, at a time when the Convention had decreed that no quarter should
be given to an Englishman, and an English prisoner was placed on the
same footing as a "suspect" or "aristocrat," and stood a great chance of
losing his head under the knife. He does not, however, seem to have been
harshly treated, only moved about from place to place, sometimes in a
prison, at others lodged in a private house; a good many of his French
fellow-prisoners, however, suffered death. In his own words and
spelling: "There was numbers of gent and lades taken away to Brest that
I parssially know, and their heads chopt off with the gulenteen with a
very little notice."

Robespierre was executed on 28th July, 1794; and soon after his death
the Convention decreed the release of great numbers of "suspects" and
other prisoners. It was not, however, till August, 1795, that Henry
Carter got his passport and was able to leave. He arrived at Falmouth
on August 22nd. "Arived on shore aboute three o'clock in the afternoon
with much fear and trembling, where I meet with my dear little
(daughter) Bettsy, there staying with her aunt, Mrs. Smythe, then
between 8 and 9 years old.... I staid that night at Falmouth, the next
morning went to Penryn with my dear little Bettsey in my hand. The next
morning, on Sunday, took a horse and arrived at Breage Churchtown aboute
eleven o'clock, where I meet my dear brother Frank, then in his way to
church. As I first took him in surprise, at first I could harly make him
sensable I was his brother, being nearley two years without hearing
whether I was dead or alife. But when he come to himself as it were, we
rejoiced together with exceeding great joy indeed. We went to his house
in Rinsey, and after dinner went to see brother John (in Prussia Cove).
We sent him word before I was coming. But he could harly believe it. But
first looking out with his glass saw me yet a long way off. Ran to meet
me, fell upon my neck. We passed the afternoon with him, and in the
evning went to Keneggy to see brother Charles."

The autobiography ends abruptly in the year 1795, but the writer lived
on until April 19th, 1829, spending the last thirty years of his life
on a little farm at Rinsey.

In addition to the two authorities quoted, both due to Mr. Cornish,
there is a memoir of Henry Carter in the _Wesleyan Methodist Magazine_
for October, 1831.


[29] J. B. Cornish in the _Cornish Magazine_, 1898, p. 121.

                        CAPTAIN RICHARD KEIGWIN

The English East India Company had been founded December 31st, 1600,
and it obtained from Queen Elizabeth the exclusive privilege for
fifteen years of trading with India and all countries to the east of
the Cape of Good Hope, in Africa and in Asia. The first settlement
effected was at Surat in 1612, by Captain Thomas Best, who defeated
the Portuguese in two battles. But through the jealousy of the Dutch
and their encroachments, and the disturbances in England caused by the
Great Rebellion, the East India Company fell to decay. Although
Cromwell in 1657 renewed its privileges, the English made little
headway. On April 3rd, 1661, Charles II confirmed and renewed all the
ancient privileges, and handed over to the Company Bombay, which he
had received from Spain as the portion of Catherine of Braganza.

Dr. Fryer, a surgeon in the service of the Company, travelled in India
between 1673 and 1681, and has left some graphic descriptions of it.
He sailed from Madras to Bombay, passing up the Malabar coast, and
noting how that the Dutch were elbowing the Portuguese out of their
posts. At last he entered the harbour of Bombay, so called from its
Portuguese name Bona-baija. He found there a Government House, with
pleasant gardens, terraces, and bowers; but the place had been meanly
fortified, and the Malabar pirates often plundered the native villages
and carried off the inhabitants as slaves. However, the Company took
the place vigorously in hand, loaded the terraces with cannon, and
built ramparts over the bowers. When Fryer landed, Bombay Castle was
mounted with a hundred and twenty pieces of ordnance, whilst sixty
field-pieces were kept in readiness. The Dutch had made an attempt to
capture Bombay, but had been repulsed.

Bombay itself was an island, with a superb landlocked harbour, but it
had at its back the great and powerful kingdom of the Mahrattas.

But the vast expense of placing Bombay in a position of defence had
been so inadequately met by the revenue derived from it, that the
Company was dissatisfied with its acquisition, and being, moreover,
burdened with debt, it had recourse to the unhappy expedient of
raising the taxation and reducing the officers' pay. It was ordered
that the annual expenses of the island should be limited to £7000; the
military establishment was to be reduced to two lieutenants, two
ensigns, four sergeants, as many corporals and 108 privates. A troop
of horse was to be disbanded, and Keigwin, the commandant, was
dismissed. This was in 1678-9.

Richard Keigwin was the third son of Richard Keigwin, of Penzance, and
of his wife Margaret, daughter of Nicholas Godolphin, of Trewarveneth.
The family was ancient and honourable. His great-grandfather, Jenkin
Keigwin, had been killed by the Spaniards in 1595. Richard entered the
Royal Navy, became a captain and then colonel of Marines, and was
appointed Governor of S. Helena, then a possession of the East India
Company, by grant of Charles II. After that he was transferred to
Bombay, and had the commandantship there.

He was highly offended at being thrust out of his position, and he,
moreover, knew that Bombay was menaced by both the Sambhajee and the
Siddee, both of whom were desirous of gaining a footing on the island,
and each was jealous lest the other should anticipate him in its

In order that he might represent the danger that menaced of losing
Bombay Captain Keigwin resolved on reporting in person to the Company
how matters stood, and he accordingly went to the directors and laid
the case before them with such force that they consented to send him
back to Bombay with the rank of captain-lieutenant, and he was to be
third in the Council. But with singular capriciousness, in the
following year, when Keigwin was at Bombay, they rescinded the order,
reduced his pay to six shillings a day, without allowance for food and
lodging, and made further reductions in the general pay and increase
in the taxes. This embittered the garrison and the natives alike.[30]

"During the greater part of the reign of Charles the Second," says
Macaulay, "the Company enjoyed a prosperity to which the history of
trade scarcely furnishes a parallel, and which excited the wonder, the
cupidity, and the envious animosity of the whole capital. Wealth and
luxury were then rapidly increasing, the taste for spices, the tissues
and the jewels of the East, became stronger day by day; tea, which at
the time when Monk brought the army of Scotland to London had been
handed round to be stared at and just touched with the lips, as a
great rarity from China, was, eight years later, a regular article of
import, and was soon consumed in such quantities that financiers began
to consider it as a fit subject for taxation." Coffee, moreover, had
become a fashionable drink, and the coffee-houses of London were the
resorts of every description of club. But coffee came from Mocha, and
the East India Company had sole right to import that, as it had
absolute monopoly of the trade of the Indian Sea.

Nor was that all; vast quantities of saltpetre were imported into
England from the East for the manufacture of gunpowder. But for this
supply our muskets and cannon would have been speechless. It was
reckoned that all Europe would hardly produce in one year saltpetre
sufficient for the siege of one town fortified on the principles of

The gains of the Company were enormous, so enormous as in no way to
justify the cheeseparing that was had recourse to at Bombay. But these
gains were not distributed among a large number of shareholders, but
swelled the pockets of a few, for as the profits increased the number
of holders of stock diminished.

The man who obtained complete control over the affairs of the Company
was Sir Josiah Child, who had risen from an apprentice who swept out
one of the counting-houses in the City to great wealth and power. His
brother John was given an almost uncontrolled hand at Surat.

The Company had been popularly considered as a Whig body. Among the
members of the directing committee had been found some of the most
vehement exclusionists in the City, that is to say, those who had
voted for the exclusion of James, Duke of York, from any claim to the
crown of England on the decease of Charles II. This was an affront
James was not likely to forget and forgive. Indeed two of them, Sir
Samuel Barnardiston and Thomas Papillon, drew on themselves a severe
persecution by their zeal against Popery and arbitrary power.

The wonderful prosperity of the Company had excited, as already
intimated, the envy of the merchants in London and Bristol; moreover,
the people suffered from the monopoly being in the hands of a few
stockholders, who controlled the market. The Company was fiercely
attacked from without at the same time that it was distracted by
internal dissensions.

Captain Keigwin now called upon the inhabitants of Bombay to take an
oath of allegiance to the Crown, and to renounce the Company and
submission to its commands. With this the whole of the garrison,
militia and inhabitants, complied; the troops from expectation of
relief from the grievances of which they had complained, and the
inhabitants from anticipating relief from taxation.

Captain Keigwin and his associates then addressed a letter to His
Majesty and to the Duke of York, expressing their determination to
maintain the island for the King till his pleasure should be known,
and enumerating the causes which had impelled them to revolt--the
principal being to prevent Bombay from being seized by the Siddee, or
Admiral of the Mogul, who with a numerous fleet was lying near, or
else by the Sambhajee, the Mahratta rajah, who was watching his
opportunity to descend on Bombay and annex it.

Captain Keigwin and the conspirators next represented to the Court of
Committee that the selfish scheme of Josiah Child in England, and of
his brother John Child of Surat, had been at the bottom of the whole
mischief which caused the disaffection, and added that both the
garrison and inhabitants were determined to continue in allegiance to
the Crown alone till the King's pleasure should be made known to them.

But Keigwin was no match for the subtle and unprincipled Sir Josiah
Child and his brother John. Josiah had been originally brought into
the direction of the Company by Barnardiston and Papillon, and was
supposed, and he allowed it to be supposed, that he was as ardent a
Whig as were they. He had for years stood high in the opinion of the
chiefs of the Parliamentary opposition, and had been especially
obnoxious to the Duke of York.

There had for some time been interference with the monopoly by what
were called "interlopers" or free traders, to the great vexation of
the Company. These interlopers now determined to affect the character
of loyal men, who were determined to stand by the Crown against the
insolent Whigs of the Company. "They spread at all the factories in
the East reports that England was in confusion, that the sword had
been drawn or would immediately be drawn, and that the Company was
forward in the rebellion against the Crown. These rumours, which in
truth were not improbable, easily found credit among people separated
from London by what was then a voyage of twelve months. Some servants
of the Company who were in ill humour with their employers, and others
who were zealous Royalists, joined the primitive traders."

On December 27th, 1683, Captain Keigwin, assisted by Ensign Thornburn
and others, seized on Mr. Ward, the deputy governor, and such members
of the Council as adhered to him, assembled the troops and the
militia, pronounced the authority of the East India Company as at an
end by formal proclamation, and declared the island to be placed under
the King's immediate protection. Thereupon the garrison, consisting
of one hundred and fifty English soldiers and two hundred native
topasses, and the inhabitants of the island, elected Keigwin to be
governor, and appointed officers to the different companies,
store-keepers, harbour-masters, etc., declaring, however, that the
Company might, if their servants would acknowledge the King's
government as proclaimed, proceed in their several avocations without
molestation. Keigwin then took possession of the Company's ship
_Return_ and the frigate _Huntley_, and landed the treasure, amounting
to fifty or sixty thousand rupees, which he lodged in the fort, and he
published a declaration that it should be employed solely in the
defence of the King's island and government.

But Child looked ahead, and saw that inevitably James, Duke of York, at
no very distant period would be King of England. The Whigs were cowed by
the discovery of the Rye House Plot, and the execution of Lord Russell
and Algernon Sidney. It was high time for Child to turn his coat, and
this he did rapidly and with dexterity. He forced his two patrons,
Barnardiston and Papillon, out of the Company, filled their places with
creatures of his own, and established himself as autocrat. Then he made
overtures to the Court, to the King, and to the Duke of York, and he
soon became a favourite at Whitehall, and the favour which he enjoyed at
Whitehall confirmed his power at the India House. He made a present of
ten thousand pounds to Charles, and another ten thousand pounds to
James, who readily consented to become a holder of stock. "All who could
help or hurt at Court," says Macaulay, "ministers, mistresses, priests,
were kept in good humour by presents of shawls and silks, birds' nests
and attar of roses, bulses of diamonds and bags of guineas. His bribes,
distributed with judicious prodigality, speedily produced a large
return. Just when the Court became all-powerful in the State, he became
all-powerful at the Court."

Against such machinations as these Keigwin was powerless. Whatever
Child asked should be done to maintain the authority of the Company
was granted. Keigwin had appealed to hear the will of the King. The
King's answer was but the echo of the voice of Child.

On the 31st January, 1683-4, President John Child from Surat arrived off
Bombay with some commissioners, and met Keigwin with offers of pardon
for his rebellion, but the offer was indignantly refused. Keigwin would
deal with no one but the King himself, and some plain truths were told
to John Child, that it was he and his brother, by their greed after gold
and indifference to the welfare of the settlement, that caused all the
trouble. The consultation lasted till March, 1683-4, and then Child had
to return to Surat, without having effected anything.

In the meantime the Court of Directors sent in a report to the King,
on 15th August, 1684, with a long statement of its grievances, and a
claim for protection, according to the charter of the Society.

Charles II could do no other than order that the island should be
delivered over to the Presidency of Surat, and a Commission under the
Great Seal was issued to President Child and to the commanders of the
Company's ships, empowering them to receive the surrender of Bombay
from Keigwin and his associates and to offer a generous pardon to all,
except the four ringleaders, who should within twenty-four hours after
notice return to their duty.

Captain Tyrell, with H.M.S. _Phœnix_, frigate, was despatched, with
Sir Thomas Graham as admiral, to settle the affair.

But Captain Keigwin had no idea of resistance. It had been further
ordered that if Keigwin and his followers should attempt opposition,
all should be denounced as rebels, and a reward of 4000 rupees should
be paid to any one who should deliver up Keigwin, and 2000 for
Alderton, and 200 for Fletcher.

Sir Thomas Graham arrived in the Bay of Bombay on the 10th November,
1684, and with great promptitude landed without attendants, and had a
conference with Keigwin, who protested that he had only revolted
against the misgovernment of the Company, and to save Bombay from
being seized by one or other of the Indian princes who were aiming to
secure it. He at once accepted the offer made to him of pardon, and
surrendered Bombay. He went on board the vessel of Sir Thomas Graham
and arrived in England in July, 1685.

During his enjoyment of power Captain Keigwin had acted with integrity
and wisely and judiciously. He had relations with the native princes,
and he showed an amount of prudence and clear judgment that eventually
greatly benefited the East India Company. He induced Sambhajee, the
Mahratta rajah, to permit the establishment of factories in the
Carnatic and allow them 12,000 pagodas as compensation for losses
sustained at places plundered by the Mahrattas. Keigwin repressed the
insolence of the Mogul admiral, Siddee, with decision, and would
neither suffer him to keep his fleet at Mazapore, nor even to go
there, except for water. In fact, had the Company known it, they had
in Keigwin an admirable servant, a Clive before the time of that hero.

But the directors were a number of commercial speculators who saw no
further than a few years before them, and were eager at once to be
rich. They cast this man aside, who, had they employed him, would have
made India theirs; and, a disappointed man, he entered the Royal Navy
and died at the taking of S. Kitts, in the West Indies, in command of
H.M.S. _Assistance_, 22nd June, 1689.

It is one of the great mysteries of life and death that men who might
have revolutionized the world are swept aside and hardly anything is
recorded concerning them. Richard Keigwin was one such, full of
self-confidence, vigour of character, restraint, and judgment. But he
lived at a time and under a reign in which there was no appreciation
of merit, and corruption and self-interest bore him down.


[30] The Company levied a duty of half a dollar upon all ships anchoring
in the harbour, one rupee a year on each fishing-boat, and the same on
every ship. Lastly, with what seems unparalleled meanness, they ordered
that only half of the native labourers' wages should be paid in coin,
the other half in rice valued "at the Company's price," which would give
ten per cent clear profit after all expenses had been defrayed.

                         THE LOSS OF THE "KENT"

The _Kent_, Captain Henry Cobb, 1350 tons, bound for Bengal and China,
left the Downs on 19th February, 1825, with 20 officers, 344 soldiers,
43 women, and 66 children belonging to the 31st Regiment; 20 private
passengers and a crew, including officers, of 148 men on board, making
in all 641 souls.

A gale came on in the Bay of Biscay, and the ship rolled greatly. On
1st March the dead weight of some hundred tons of shot and shells,
pressed so heavily with the rolling that the main chains were thrown
by every lurch under water; and the best cleated articles of furniture
in the cabin and the cuddy (the large dining apartment) were dashed
from side to side.

One of the officers of the ship, with the well-meant intention of
ascertaining that all was fast below, descended with two of the
sailors into the hold, whither they carried with them for safety a
light in a patent lantern; and seeing that the lamp was burning dimly,
the officer took the precaution to hand it up to the orlop deck to be
trimmed. Having afterwards discovered that one of the spirit casks was
adrift, he sent a sailor for some billets of wood to secure it, but
the ship in his absence having made a heavy lurch, the officer
unfortunately dropped the light, and letting go of his hold of the
cask in his eagerness to recover the lantern, it suddenly stove, and,
the spirits communicating with the lamp, the whole place was
instantly in a blaze.

Major (afterwards Sir Duncan) McGregor, who was on board at the time
with his wife and family, says:--

"I received from Captain Spence, the captain of the day, the alarming
information that the ship was on fire in the after-hold. On hastening to
the hatchway whence smoke was slowly ascending, I found Captain Cobb and
other officers already giving orders, which seemed to be promptly obeyed
by seamen and troops, who were using every exertion by means of the
pumps, buckets of water, wet sails, hammocks, etc., to extinguish the
flames. With a view to excite the ladies' alarm as little as possible,
on conveying the intelligence to Colonel Faron, the commanding officer
of the troops, I knocked gently at the cabin door, and expressed a wish
to speak with him; but whether my countenance betrayed the state of my
feelings, or the increasing noise and confusion upon deck created
apprehension, I found it difficult to pacify some of the ladies by
assurances that no danger whatever was to be apprehended from the gale.
As long as the devouring element appeared to be confined to the spot
where the fire had originated, and which we were assured was surrounded
on all sides by water-casks, we ventured to cherish hopes that it might
be subdued; but no sooner was the light blue vapour that at first arose
succeeded by volumes of black dingy smoke, which speedily ascended
through all the four hatchways, rolled over every part of the ship, than
all further concealment became impossible, and almost all hope of
preserving the vessel was abandoned.

"In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and
decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the
danger, resorted to the only alternative now left him--of ordering the
lower decks to be scuttled, the combing of the hatches to be cut, and
the lower ports to be opened, for the free admission of the waves.

"These instructions were speedily executed by the united efforts of
the troops and seamen; but not before some of the sick soldiers, one
woman, and several children, unable to gain the upper deck, had
perished. On descending to the gun-deck with one or two officers of
the 31st Regiment to assist in opening the ports, I met, staggering
towards the hatchway, in an exhausted and nearly senseless state, one
of the mates, who informed us that he had just stumbled over the dead
bodies of some individuals who must have died of suffocation, to which
it was evident that he himself had almost fallen a victim. So dense
and oppressive was the smoke that it was with the utmost difficulty we
could remain long enough below to fulfil Captain Cobb's wishes; which
were no sooner accomplished than the sea rushed in with extraordinary
force, carrying away in its restless progress to the hold the largest
chests, bulkheads, etc."

The immense quantity of water that was thus introduced into the vessel
had, indeed, for a time the effect of checking the fury of the flames;
but the danger of sinking was increased as the risk of explosion, should
the fire reach the powder, was diminished. The ship became water-logged,
and presented other indications of settling previous to going down.

"The upper deck was covered with between six and seven hundred human
beings, many of whom from previous sea-sickness were forced on the
first alarm from below in a state of absolute nakedness, and were now
running about in quest of husbands, children, or parents. While some
were standing in silent resignation or in stupid insensibility to
their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to the most
frantic despair. Several of the soldiers' wives and children, who had
fled for temporary shelter into the after cabins on the upper decks,
were engaged in prayer with the ladies, some of whom were enabled,
with wonderful self-possession, to offer to others spiritual
consolation; and the dignified deportment of two young ladies in
particular formed a specimen of natural strength of mind finely
modified by Christian feeling.

"Among the numerous objects that struck my observation at the period,
I was much affected by the appearance and conduct of some of the dear
children, who, quite unconscious in the cuddy cabin of the perils that
surrounded them, continued to play as usual with their little toys in
bed. To some of the older children, who seemed alive to the reality of
the danger, I whispered, 'Now is the time to put in practice the
instructions you have received at the regimental school and to think
of the Saviour.' They replied, as the tears ran down their cheeks, 'Oh
sir! we are trying to remember them, and we are praying to God.'

"It occurred to Mr. Thomson, the fourth mate, to send a man to the
foretop, rather with the ardent wish than with the expectation, that
some friendly sail might be discovered on the face of the waters. The
sailor, on mounting, threw his eyes round the horizon for a moment--a
moment of unutterable suspense--and, waving his hat, exclaimed, 'A
sail on the leeboard!'

"The joyful announcement was received with three cheers upon deck. Our
flags of distress were instantly hoisted and our minute guns fired;
and we endeavoured to bear down under our three topsails and foresail
upon the stranger, which afterwards proved to be the _Cambria_, a
small brig of 200 tons burden, having on board twenty or thirty
Cornish miners and other agents of the Anglo-Mexican Company.

"For ten or fifteen minutes we were left in doubt whether the brig
perceived our signals, or, perceiving them, was either disposed or
able to lend us any assistance. From the violence of the gale, it
seems that the report of our guns was not heard; but the ascending
volumes of smoke from the ship sufficiently announced the dreadful
nature of our distress, and we had the satisfaction, after a short
period of suspense, to see the brig hoist British colours and crowd
all sail to hasten to our relief.

"I confess that when I reflected on the long period our ship had
already been burning--on the tremendous sea that was running--on the
extreme smallness of the brig, and the immense number of human beings
to be saved--I could only venture to hope that a few might be spared;
but I durst not for a moment contemplate the possibility of my own

To prevent the rush to the boats as they were being lowered, some of
the military officers were stationed over them with drawn swords.
Arrangements were made by Captain Cobb for placing in the first boat,
previous to letting it down, all the ladies and as many of the
soldiers' wives as it could safely contain. They hurriedly wrapped
themselves up in whatever articles of clothing could be found, and at
about 2 p.m. or 2.30 p.m. a mournful procession advanced from the aft
cabin to the starboard cuddy port, outside of which the cutter was
suspended. Scarcely a word was uttered; not a scream was heard. Even
the infants ceased to cry, as if conscious of the unspoken,
unspeakable anguish that was at that instant rending the hearts of
their parting parents--nor was the silence of voices in any way
broken, except in one or two cases, where the ladies plaintively
entreated permission to be left behind with their husbands.

Although Captain Cobb had used every precaution to diminish the danger
of the boat's descent, and for this purpose had stationed a man with an
axe to cut away the tackle from either extremity should the slightest
difficulty occur in unhooking it, yet the peril attending the whole
operation nearly proved fatal to its numerous inmates. After a couple of
unsuccessful attempts to place the frail bark fairly on the heaving
surface of the water, the command was given at length to unhook. The
tackle at the stern was, in consequence, immediately cleared; but the
ropes at the bow having got fast, the sailor there found it impossible
to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to the entangled tackle.
The moment was inconceivably critical, as the boat, which necessarily
followed the motion of the ship, was gradually rising out of the water,
and must, in another instant, have been hanging perpendicularly by the
bow, and its helpless inmates in that event would have been shot down
into the boiling surf. But at that moment, providentially, a wave
suddenly struck and lifted the stern, so as to enable the seaman to
disentangle the tackle, and the boat, dexterously cleared from the
wreck, was seen after a little while from the poop battling with the
billows on its way to the _Cambria_, which prudently lay to at some
distance from the _Kent_, lest she should be involved in her explosion,
or exposed to the fire of her guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards
went off as the flames reached them successively.

The men had, accordingly, a considerable distance to row. The better
to balance the boat in the raging seas through which it had to make
its way, as also to enable the seamen to ply their oars, the women
and children were stowed promiscuously under the seats, and
consequently exposed to the risk of being drowned by the continual
dashing of the spray over their heads, which so filled the boat during
the passage, that before they arrived at the brig the poor creatures
were crouching up to their breasts in water, and their children kept
above it with the greatest difficulty by their numbed hands.

However, in the course of between twenty minutes and half an hour, the
little cutter was seen alongside the brig.

But the perils of the passage were not over; the boat was heaved up
against the side of the rolling and pitching _Cambria_, and the
difficulty of getting the women and children out of the cutter and on
to the deck was great. Moreover, the boat stood in imminent danger of
being stove in against the side of the brig whilst its passengers were

Here it was that the Cornish miners on board the _Cambria_ notably
distinguished themselves, and above all Joseph Warren from S. Just, a
famous wrestler. Being a man of enormous strength, he stood on the
chains and caught first the children as they were tossed to his arms,
passed them up on deck, and then lifted the women bodily from the boat
as it heaved up within his reach, and passed them over his head to the
men above.

The women showed great self-possession. They had been urged to avail
themselves of every favourable heave of the sea, by springing towards
the friendly arms that were extended to receive them; and
notwithstanding the deplorable consequence of making a false step, or
misjudging a distance, under such critical circumstances, not a single
accident occurred to any individual belonging to this first boat.

Three out of the six boats originally possessed by the _Kent_ were
swamped in the course of the day, one of them with men in it; and the
boats took three-quarters of an hour over each trip, so that night
settled down, adding to the difficulties and dangers, and bringing
ever nearer the prospect of the fire reaching the powder magazine and
blowing all who remained on board into eternity.

Sir Donald McGregor tells some pathetic stories of the rest of the
crew and passengers. One woman had vainly entreated to be allowed to
go to India with her husband, and when refused, had contrived to hide
herself in the vessel as a stowaway till it was well out at sea. As he
was endeavouring to reach one of the boats, he fell overboard, and his
head, coming between the heaving boat and the side of the ship, was
crushed like a nut in her sight. Sad instances occurred where a
husband had to make election between the saving of his wife and that
of his children. The courage of some utterly failed them. Nothing
would induce them to enter or try to enter one of the boats leaping on
the waves beside the burning ship. Rather than adventure that they
would remain and take their chances on the wreck. Some, making false
leaps into the boats, fell into the waves and were drowned.

At last all who could or would be saved were brought on board the

"After the arrival of the last boat, the flames, which had spread
along her upper deck and poop, ascended with the rapidity of lightning
to the masts and rigging, forming one general conflagration that
illumined the heavens, and was strongly reflected upon several objects
on board the brig.

"The flags of distress, hoisted in the morning, were seen for a
considerable time waving amid the flames, until the masts to which
they were suspended successively fell over the ship's sides. At last,
about 1.30 in the morning, the devouring element having communicated
to the magazine, the long-threatened explosion was seen, and the
blazing fragments of the once magnificent _Kent_ were instantly
hurried, like so many rockets, high into the air, leaving in the
comparative darkness that succeeded the dreadful scene of that
disastrous day floating before the mind like some feverish dream.

"I trust that you will keep in mind that Captain Cook's generous
intentions and exertions must have proved utterly unavailing for the
preservation of so many lives had they not been most nobly and
unremittingly supported by those of his mate and crew, as well as of
the numerous passengers on board his brig. While the former, only
eight in number, were usefully employed in watching the vessel, the
sturdy Cornish miners and Yorkshire smelters, on the approach of the
different boats, took their perilous station upon the chains, where
they put forth the great muscular strength with which Heaven had
endowed them, in dexterously seizing, at each successive heave of the
sea, on some of the exhausted people and dragging them upon deck. Nor
did their kind anxieties terminate there. They and the gentlemen
connected with them cheerfully opened their stores of clothes and
provisions, which they liberally dispensed to the naked and famished
sufferers; and they surrendered their beds to the helpless women and
children, and seemed, in short, during the whole passage to England,
to take no other delight than in ministering to all our wants."

Captain Cook of the _Cambria_ at once turned the vessel and steered
for Falmouth.

On reaching Falmouth report of the distressed condition of those who
had been rescued was sent to Colonel Fenwick, Lieutenant-Governor of
Pendennis Castle, and the people of Falmouth showed the utmost
kindness and hospitality to those who had been saved.

On the first Sunday after they had disembarked, Colonel Fearon, all
the officers and men, Captain Cobb and the sailors and passengers
attended church at Falmouth to give thanks to Almighty God for their
deliverance from a fearful death.

                                      "FALMOUTH, _March 16th, 1825_.

                 "_To the Committee of the Inhabitants of Falmouth._


    "In tracing the various links in the ample chain of mercy and bounty
    with which it has pleased a gracious Providence to surround the
    numerous individuals lately rescued from the destruction of the Hon.
    Company's ship _Kent_, we, the Lieut.-Col. Commanding, and officers
    belonging to the right wing of the 31st Regiment, cannot but reflect
    with increasing gratitude on the beneficence of that arrangement
    whereby ourselves and our gallant men, after the awful and
    afflicting calamity that befell us, were cast upon the sympathies of
    the inhabitants of Falmouth and the adjacent towns, who have so
    widely opened their hearts to feel, and munificently extended their
    hands to provide for our numerous and necessary wants.

    "We were thrown upon your shore as penniless strangers, and ye took
    us in; we were hungry and ye gave us meat; naked and ye clothed us;
    sick and ye relieved and comforted us. We have found you rejoicing
    with those of us who rejoiced, and weeping with such of us as had
    cause to weep. You have visited our fatherless and widows in their
    affliction, and sought by increasing acts of the most seasonable,
    effective, and delicate charity, to alleviate the measure of our

    "Under such circumstances, what can we say, or where shall we find
    words to express our emotions? You have created between us and our
    beloved country an additional bond of affection and gratitude, that
    will animate our future zeal, and enable us, amidst all the
    vicissitudes of our professional life, to point out Falmouth to our
    companions in arms as one of the bright spots in our happy land
    where the friendless shall find many friends, and the afflicted
    receive abundant consolation.

                    "In the name and on behalf of the officers of the

                       "Right Wing of the 31st Regiment,

                           "R. B. FEARON, Lieut-Col., 31st Foot."

Joseph Warren, the S. Just miner and wrestler who had so powerfully
assisted in the rescue of the unfortunates from the _Kent_, strained his
back in heaving up the women on deck, that ever after deprived him of
power to wrestle or exercise his ancient strength. One of the ladies
whom he had rescued paid him an annuity through the rest of his life,
and he died at his old home at S. Just-in-Penwith, 28th January, 1842.

                      VICE-ADMIRAL SIR CHARLES V.

The Penrose family is one of the most ancient in Cornwall. The name
signifies the Head of the Moor, and it belonged _par excellence_ to
the Land's End, where, at S. Sennen, we find the Penroses seated as
landed gentry from the time of Edward I. They had branches in Sithney,
Manaccan, and S. Anthony-in-Meneage. They mated with the best in the
county--the Trefusis, the Killigrews, the Eriseys, and the Boscawens.
One broke away from the circle of beautiful Celtic names, and took to
wife a daughter of Sir Anthony Buggs, Knt. Happy must the lady have
felt to cease to be Miss Buggs and become Madame Penrose!

Charles Vinicombe Penrose was the youngest son and child of the Rev.
John Penrose, vicar of Gluvias, and was born at Gluvias, June 20th,
1759. In the spring of 1775 he was appointed midshipman on board the
_Levant_ frigate, Captain Murray, under whose command he passed the
whole period of his service during the next twenty-two years of his
life, and who (with one trifling exception) was the only captain with
whom he ever sailed, either as midshipman or as lieutenant. In 1779
young Penrose was made lieutenant, and was appointed to the _Cleopatra_.

All the summer and a part of the winter of 1780 were passed in cruising
off the Flemish bank. Captain Murray was then sent with a small
squadron to intercept the trade which the Americans were carrying on
with Gothenburg by passing to the north of the Shetland Isles. The
biting cold made this a source of extreme hardship, and the young
lieutenant, now first lieutenant, suffered severely. The illness of the
captain, and the incapacity of some of the officers, threw on him almost
the whole care of the ship, and this under circumstances that required
the skill and caution of the seaman to be ever on the alert.


"I had, however," he wrote, "no time to nurse myself, though I had
pleurisy, besides my chilblains. For these latter I used to have warm
vinegar and sal ammoniac brought frequently on deck, and, to allay the
raging pain, dipped thin gloves into the mixture, and put them on
under thick worsted mittens. At one time rheumatism had so got hold of
me that I was not able to stand, but lay wrapped up in flannel on an
arm-chest, on the forepart of the quarter-deck, to give my orders.

"On one occasion, in a severe gale, the ship covered with frozen snow,
the main topmast was carried away; we were the whole day clearing the
wreck, and I was much fatigued but obliged to keep the first watch. We
were lying to under bare poles, and I had sent all the men under
shelter except one man at the helm and the mate of the watch; and I
had, with much difficulty, cleared a place for myself between two of
the guns, where, holding by a rope, I could move two or three short
paces backwards and forwards. About nine o'clock my messmates sent to
ask if I would have anything, and I thoughtlessly ordered a glass of
warm brandy and water, which they as thoughtlessly sent. I drank about
half, and gave the rest to the mate. In a minute I felt a glow of
warmth. Health, animation, freedom from fatigue, all came in their
climax of comfort. The next minute I fell sleeping on the deck.
Fortunately for me, my comrade was an old seaman, and he instantly
knew my case and dragged me down the ladder. I was put to bed; was
badly treated, as I was rubbed with spirits; but after excruciating
pain, I recovered. Had the officer of the watch been a young gentleman
without experience, I should never have told my story."

In 1781 the _Cleopatra_ was in the action off the Dogger Bank, but in
1783 was paid off. "At this time," wrote Mr. Penrose, "after having
been for eleven years conversant only with nautical affairs, I really
felt a great puzzle to know how a shore life could be endured. I had
entered into my profession with all my heart, and was at this time as
nearly a fish as a finless animal can become."

In 1787 he married Miss Trevenen, the elder sister of his brother's
wife, and by her had three daughters. He was not at sea again till 1790,
when he accompanied Captain Murray in the _Defence_, and was engaged in
the West Indies. At the latter end of 1796 he was again returned to the
_Cleopatra_, in which ship he had the melancholy satisfaction of
conveying to England his friend and admiral, who had been seized with a
paralytic affection from which he never recovered. The voyage home was
tempestuous; but at length, and nearly at its close, the wind had come
right aft, and the captain, who, though ill, was on deck, believed
himself to be making rapid way up the Channel. On a sudden a light,
which he knew to be the Scilly light, flashed across him, and he saw
that he was between Scilly and the Land's End. He instantly stood to the
south, but had hardly changed his course when he saw, close astern in
the dark night, a wave break under the bow of a large ship, steering
exactly in the direction which he had left. "I never felt so sick
before," he wrote. "I felt certain that in an hour's time she would be
on the rocks, the wind blowing almost a storm. I shouted through the
trumpet, I threw up lights, and fired guns, to give the alarm, but with
the inward conviction at the time that it was all in vain--and so it
was. This ship was never heard of again; and though fragments of a wreck
were found the next morning on the coast near the Land's End, nothing
was discovered to indicate what wreck it was."

The _Cleopatra_, on her return to England, was laid up for some months
at Portsmouth in dock, and shortly after her repairs were completed
the mutiny broke out at Spithead. Captain Penrose had the satisfaction
that his own crew, from the beginning to the end of this anxious
period, stood firm to their duty; a consequence undoubtedly of the
manner in which he invariably treated his men, with kindly
consideration and as reasonable beings.

He now went ashore, as his health was broken, and in May, 1798, went
to reside at Ethy, near Lostwithiel, where, so soon as his health was
re-established, he settled his family and looked out for fresh
employment. He was appointed early in 1799 to the _Sans Pareil_, of
eighty guns, and served in the West Indies till 1802, when he returned
to England, having suffered from sunstroke. In 1810 Captain Penrose
was appointed to the chief command at Gibraltar, with the rank of
commodore. He hoisted his flag on board the _San Juan_, and had to
direct the proceedings of a large flotilla which proved of great
utility in the defence of Cadiz and Tarifa, and in other operations
against the French under Marshal Soult. On December 4th, 1813, he was
promoted to be Admiral of the Blue, and shortly after to superintend
the naval service connected with Wellington's army, then advanced as
far as the Pyrenees. His orders were to proceed to the small port of
Passages, and there hoist his flag on board the _Porcupine_. Admiral
Penrose arrived at Passages on January 27th, 1814. The chief business
which now devolved on the naval service was to make the necessary
preparations for throwing a floating bridge across the Adour. This
bridge was to be composed of small coasting vessels, decked boats,
cables and planks. Above the bridge were to be anchored for its
protection as many gunboats as could be furnished, and, to guard both
these and the bridge from fire-ships or rafts, a boom was also to be
laid across the river further up the stream. These measures were
consequent on the investment of Bayonne. Great difficulties were to be
expected in passing the bar of the Adour, which, at the place where
the bridge was to be built, was four hundred yards wide, and where the
ebb-tide ran at the rate of eight miles an hour. The Admiral
determined to superintend the operation in person. On the afternoon of
the 22nd the _Porcupine_, conveying some transports and several large
coasting vessels laden with materials, left the harbour. But squally
weather and baffling winds came on during the night, and he was unable
to bring the flotilla to the bar before the morning of the 24th.

The passing of the bar, a most perilous service, has been described,
as seen from the shore, by Mr. Gleig in the _Subaltern_.

It was nearly high water, and the wind was fair; both officers and
soldiers gathered on the heights around, and the passage of each
vessel was eagerly watched, from the moment it was immersed in the
foaming breakers until it issued forth in the placid waters of the
river beyond. Some few vessels broached to and sank; but, on the
whole, the attempt fully succeeded, and with fewer casualties than
could have been expected. General Sir John Hope, who commanded on
shore, said, in a letter to the Admiral: "I have often seen how
gallantly the navy will devote themselves when serving with an army,
but I never before witnessed so bold and hazardous a co-operation, and
you have my most grateful thanks. I wrote to you in the course of last
night, to say how much we stood in need of boats, seamen, etc., but
when I saw the flotilla approach the wall of heavy surf, I regretted
all I had said."

So soon as the boats had thus entered the river, no time was lost in
running those which were intended to form the bridge up to their
stations, where the bridge was rapidly formed; and at dawn on the
following day, it was declared that infantry might cross it with
safety. On the 27th Bayonne was closely invested by Sir John Hope, and
Marshal Soult completely routed at Orthez by Wellington.

On March 22nd Admiral Penrose received instructions from the Duke to
occupy the Gironde. On the 24th he sailed in the _Porcupine_, taking
with him some brigs and a bomb vessel, and he was joined at the mouth
of the river by the _Egmont_, the _Andromache_, the _Challenger_, and
the _Belle Poule_. On the 27th he entered the river, the _Andromache_
taking the lead. The want of pilots and the haziness of the atmosphere
rendered the navigation difficult. The course taken was within easy
reach of the shot from the enemy's batteries, but these passed clear
of the ships, and every considerable danger was successfully overcome,
when a clear sun broke forth to animate the progress up the stream.

The abdication of Napoleon, 6th April, 1814, and the restoration of
the Bourbons followed, and Admiral Penrose left the Gironde on May
22nd, and returned to Passages to superintend the embarkation of the
troops and stores. The difficulties were great. The inadequate supply
of transports precluded the affording, even to the sick and wounded,
the accommodation of which they were in need; and the hatred borne by
the Spanish population to the British troops burst forth more and more
as their strength diminished. Although English blood and treasure had
been poured forth to assist Spain against the despotism of Napoleon
and in driving the French out of the country, not a spark of gratitude
was manifested by the Spaniards. It was thought on this occasion
highly probable that some outrage would be attempted in the rear of
the embarkation. Indeed, a plan had been formed by some Spaniards to
seize the military chest, and for security it had to be conveyed on
board the _Lyra_, and a volley of stones was hurled at the last boat
that left the shore. During Admiral Penrose's whole stay on this
ungrateful coast, he never received a visit or the smallest mark of
attention from a single Spaniard; and on his leaving Passages, not one
individual in the town was seen to look out of a window to watch the
sailing of the fleet.

The _Porcupine_ anchored in Plymouth Sound, September 6th, and the
Admiral struck his flag on the 12th, with but little expectation, now
that peace had revisited Europe, of being again actively employed. On
the 16th, however, he received a letter from Lord Melville, offering
him the command of the fleet in the Mediterranean, become vacant by
the recall of Admiral Hallowell. The offer was accepted, and on
October 3rd Admiral Penrose hoisted his flag at Plymouth, on board the
_Queen_, and left Plymouth on the 8th.

Whilst in the Mediterranean, he heard on March 12th, 1815, of the
escape of Napoleon from Elba, and of his having reached Prejus.

In January, 1816, Admiral Penrose was promoted to the rank of Knight
Commander of the Bath.

On March 1st he received letters from Lord Exmouth, who appointed a
meeting at Port Mahon to proceed against Algiers and Tunis to put an
end to the piracies that were carried on from these two places. The
squadron sailed for Algiers March 21st. Admiral Penrose wrote: "On
arriving at their destination, the ships anchored in two lines out of
gun-shot from the batteries, and by signal made all ready for battle;
but all went off quietly, and the slaves in whose behalf the
expedition was undertaken were ransomed on the terms which Lord
Exmouth proposed." From Algiers the squadron sailed for Tunis, and
here also the Bey submitted to the demand made on him, and thus ended
this impotent expedition. The Bey of Algiers was by no means so
overawed that he desisted from his nefarious practices, and a second
expedition was sent against him under Lord Exmouth in 1816.

By an unfortunate oversight, rather than intentional lack of courtesy,
no notice had been sent to the Admiral in command of the Mediterranean
that Lord Exmouth had been despatched to bombard Algiers and destroy
the piratical fleet. Admiral Penrose was at Malta, and hearing in a
roundabout way that Lord Exmouth, with a fleet fitted out at home, had
entered the Mediterranean and was on his way to Algiers, he deemed it
advisable to leave Malta and visit this fleet. He did not arrive off
Algiers till the 29th August. The action had been on the 27th, and the
first objects seen on entering the bay were the still smoking wrecks
of the Algerine navy, and then the fleet of Lord Exmouth engaged in
repairing the injuries which it had sustained.

Admiral Penrose was cut to the quick by the slight put upon him, and
he wrote to remonstrate with the Admiralty, but received in reply only
a rebuke for expressing his indignation in a tone that the Admiralty
did not relish.

There is no need to attend Admiral Penrose in his cruises and visits
to the Ionian Islands, but his diary may be quoted relative to an
expedition made early in 1818, in company with Sir Thomas Maitland, to
visit Ali Pasha.

The history of this second Nero, with whom to our disgrace we entered
into alliance, and supplied with cannon and muskets, may be given in

Ali, surnamed Arslan, the Lion, was an Albanian born about the year
1741. His father, driven from his paternal mansion, placed himself at
the head of some bandits, surrounded the house in which were his
brothers, and burnt them in it alive. The mother of Ali, daughter of a
bey, was of a vindictive and ferocious character, and on the death of
her husband had the formation of the character of Ali in her hands,
and she inspired him with remorselessness, ambition, and subtlety. Ali
assisted the Sultan in the war with Russia, and was rewarded by being
created a pasha of two tails and governor of Tricala, in Thessaly.
Soon by means of intrigue and crime he obtained the pashalics of
Janina and Arta; then he was granted the government of Acharnania,
and, finding himself strong enough to do what he liked, he attacked
neighbouring provinces, and banished or put to death in them all the
Mussulman and Christian inhabitants whose goods he coveted, or who had
given him umbrage. Then he attacked the Christian Suliotes and
massacred them. Previsa and some other Christian towns on the coast
had belonged to the republic of Venice. In 1797 the Queen of the
Adriatic, having been overthrown by Bonaparte, Ali took the
opportunity, at the feast of Easter, to descend on them when all the
inhabitants were keeping holiday, and massacre over six thousand and
plunder the houses. The English Government entered into negotiations
with him, gave him a park of artillery and six hundred gunshots. Thus
furnished he attacked Berat, the pasha of which was the father of his
two sons' wives. He took the place and threw the pasha into a
subterranean dungeon under his palace at Janina.

He seized on the Albanian towns of Argyro-Kastro and Kardihi. The
inhabitants of the latter surrendered without striking a blow; but as
they had at some former time offended his mother, he put all the males
to the sword, and handed over the women to his sister, who, after
having delivered them up to the most horrible outrages, had them
stripped stark naked and driven into the forests, where nearly all
perished of cold and hunger. When Napoleon fell, Ali got the English
to cede to him the town of Parga. It was concerning this cession that
the English Government thought it no shame to send Sir Thomas Maitland
to Ali to negotiate with him at Previsa. "The General embarked with
the ladies (Lady Ponsonby, Lady Lauderdale and her daughters) in the
_Glasgow_, and with the two ships we proceeded to the anchorage of
Prevesa. On the evening of our arrival I despatched the second
lieutenant to find at what time on the following day Ali would receive
us. His report of the chief himself was wittily characteristic: 'He is
exactly like a sugar hogshead, dressed in scarlet and gold.'

"A long and heavy pull we had the next day in the _Glasgow's_ fine
barge against a very cold wind, but at last we reached the land. The
palace of the ferocious chief whom we had come to visit was built of
wood, and on the water's edge, so that the boats landed at one of the
doors, contrived, no doubt, to enable the owner to escape in that
direction if requisite. It was an immense building, badly finished,
not painted, and badly furnished, but calculated to lodge about three
thousand persons. The chief, with all his heads of departments, and
his son and grandson, received us in a small room, one end of which
was occupied by a comfortable and well-cushioned divan. Here we were
soon served with coffee in beautiful china and gold cups and saucers,
and magnificent pipes.

"Sir Thomas introduced me as the naval commander-in-chief. Before we
returned to our ships an excellent collation was provided on a long
table; but the climate was severe in this wild mansion, and after
trying many bottles of execrable light wines, great was my joy in
finding a flask of excellent brandy.

"I had several good opportunities of watching the countenance of the
extraordinary man who was now our host, and I never could observe the
smallest indication without of what was passing in his breast. Simple
benevolence was apparently beaming from the whole expression of this
human butcher. At one time particularly, when I know for a certainty
that he was both angry and mortified at some turn in the investigations,
I sat opposite him at only a yard's distance, and could not perceive the
smallest outward token of the storm within. He once questioned me about
my family, whether I was married, etc.; and when I told him I had three
daughters, 'What, no sons? Why have you not them?' and burst forth into
one of his frightful haugh-haugh laughs, which were quite disgusting,
and resembled the grunt of a wild beast.

"As a high honour, on the day on which the ladies were with us, he sat
at the head of the table at dinner. The dinner was much more profuse
than elegant; and one of Ali's first operations was to cut off the
fore-quarter of a roasted lamb, and with his hand tear out the flesh
between the shoulder and the breast, which he devoured with great
glee. Lady Lauderdale sat on his right hand, and I was next her. Ali,
understanding that she chose some turkey, had one brought before him,
and helped her with a fore-quarter of an immense bird, which, of
course, puzzled her greatly. Whereupon, bowing for permission from our
host, I cut off a proper portion from the wing, and helped myself to
the remainder. When Ali saw what a small portion I had allotted to the
lady, he grunted out his peculiar laugh, but luckily did not persist
in the cramming system.

"Even at this more distinguished feast good wines were not the order
of the day, and I had again recourse to the brandy bottle. I know not
what Ali had in a particular bottle placed near himself, as he
indulged no one but Sir Thomas Maitland with a taste of it, but I do
not recollect hearing it praised. The chief took a good portion of
this bottle to himself, heedless of the Koran and the prophet.

"Immediately after dinner dancing boys were introduced, and performed
a great number of evolutions, showing the most extraordinary
flexibility in every part of the body. These poor creatures must have
been Nazarites from their birth, as their hair was long enough to
reach to the floor as they stood, and great part of their skill was
displayed in throwing about these profuse locks with their arms. I
think these boys must have been of Indian extraction.

"The ladies having heard that Ali had bought a diamond of great value
from poor Gustavus, the ex-King of Sweden, expressed a strong desire to
see it. He assented graciously, and ordered a plate to be brought to
him. He then searched in the folds of his own fat neck, and at last
untied a string to which was affixed a little bag of either oil-cloth or
bladder. Out of this he took a coarse paper parcel, and having opened
the envelope, and three or four interior papers, he, with a pretended
air of indifference, threw out on the plate a considerable number of
diamonds, which some of our party valued at £30,000. Among these was the
diamond of the ex-King, which had been valued at £12,000; but owing
partly to his necessities, and, perhaps, partly also to a change in
value, Ali purchased it, I think, for £7000 or £8000.

"The strangest part of this story was that such a man could display
such a treasure, showing that it was usually concealed about his
person, before a considerable number of his own subjects as well as
strangers. There seemed to be the freest possible ingress and egress
to and from the hall in which we sat; and beside his officers of
state, there were many menials in the hall at the time. In what, then,
consisted the confidence which he must have felt? It could not have
been derived from conscious virtue, or security of attachment; and,
except at the gate which led from the great square of the palace
towards the town, I never saw anything like guard or sentinel.

"Besides the dish of diamonds, Ali kept by his side a brace of pistols
richly set with valuable jewels, a present from Napoleon; and in his
girdle he always wore a dagger, the hilt of which must have been worth
£2000 or £3000; one stone especially being very large. Probably the
reign of terror might operate to some degree as a safeguard; but the
appearance of the people immediately about Ali's person indicated much
more confidence than fear.

"Our ladies had been introduced into the harem, and to the favourite
Fatima, who, as we were told, was the best _scratcher_ Ali ever had.
One of his chief luxuries was to have his immense, coarse carcase
scratched for a considerable time daily by his female friends."

The end of this man, Ali Pasha, may be briefly told. He had become
independent, disregarding the authority of the Sultan, and a menace to
the State. Accordingly an army was despatched to Janina, and a fleet
to make a descent on the coasts of Epirus. Ali, in spite of his great
age, exhibited great energy, and prepared to resist, but his fatal
avarice stood in his way. With his enormous treasures he could have
secured the fidelity of his troops, but he could not make up his mind
to deal liberally with his defenders, and most deserted. His own sons
and grandsons, with one exception, passed over into the enemy's camp.
He set the town of Janina on fire, and retired himself into the
fortress, which was defended by Italian and French artillerymen, and
which bristled with cannon. This was in August, 1820. At the beginning
of 1821 the Sultan gave the command of his forces to Khorchid Pasha,
and the siege was begun. Ali had previously sunk one portion of his
treasure in the lake in spots where it could be recovered by himself
when the storm blew over; the rest was in his cellar heaped up over
barrels of gunpowder, and a faithful attendant stood ever by with a
lighted fuse in his hand. Khorchid was particularly desirous of
securing the treasure. He proposed an interview in an island of the
lake. After some hesitation Ali, who had now but fifty men in his
garrison, consented. The interview took place on the 5th February,
1822; Khorchid had taken the precaution to surround the island with
soldiers, but concealed. When they met, the officer of the Sultan
produced a firman granting complete forgiveness to Ali for all his
crimes and defiance, on condition that he surrendered some of his
treasures. Ali then drew off his ring, handed it to the general, and
said, "Show that to my slave, and he will extinguish the fuse."

Ali was detained in the palace on the isle till messengers had been
sent to the fortress, and the slave, obedient to the token, had put
out the light, whereupon he was at once stabbed. When Khorchid knew
that the treasure was secure, he summoned the soldiery, and they fired
into the kiosk from all sides and through the floor, till Ali was
struck mortally.

The moral infamies of this man are not to be described.

When the negotiations with Ali Pasha were ended, the Lord High
Commissioner and the ladies returned to Corfu, and Sir Charles Penrose
went back to his fleet.

He returned to England in 1819, being succeeded in his command by
Admiral Freemantle.

He again made Ethy his home, taking occasional flights to London to
obtain some other naval appointment, which would not compel a
severance from his family, but none was available, and, finally, as
his wife's health and his own began to fail, he was content to remain
in his quiet Cornish home. There he died January 1st, 1830, at the age
of seventy; and Lady Penrose died in 1832.

The Life of Vice-Admiral Sir C. V. Penrose, K.C.B., together with that
of Captain James Trevenen, was written by their nephew, the Rev. John
Penrose, and published by John Murray, 1850, with portrait.

                     SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS, BART.

Kit Hawkins, as he was familiarly termed in Cornwall, played a
considerable part at the close of the eighteenth century, and before
the passing of the Reform Bill, as a borough-monger. There was a
contemporary with a similar reputation, Manasseh Lopes, a Jew diamond
merchant from Jamaica, and both purchased their baronetcies by
subservience to the Government in finding places for their nominees in
the pocket boroughs they had got into their hands. When Manasseh Lopes
drove into Fowey with his candidates, the town band stalked before the
carriage playing "The Rogues' March"; when Kit Hawkins arrived in
Grampound or S. Ives with a carriage and four, and his candidates with
him, the band played "See the Conquering Hero Comes"--but he conquered
not with weapons of steel, but with golden guineas, handed over to him
by the candidates, a share of which passed to the electors.

The Cornish Hawkins family pretended to derive from a very distinguished
Roman Catholic stock in Kent, whose place, Nash, was plundered in 1715
by the rabble, on account of the Jacobite proclivities of the Hawkins
family and the excitement caused by the rebellion in Scotland of the
Earl of Mar. On this occasion all the family plate, portraits, and deeds
were carried off; some were burnt, some were recovered.

But not a shadow of evidence is forthcoming to show that there was any
descent of the Hawkins family in Cornwall from that in Kent. The
story given out was that on account of the religious persecution in
the time of Queen Mary, two of the Kent Hawkinses left the paternal
nest: one settled in Somersetshire and the other in Cornwall, where
each became the founder of a family. It was forgotten, when this
fiction was given to the world, that the Hawkins stock in Kent was
Roman Catholic, and not at all likely to be troubled by Queen Mary.

The first Cornish Hawkins of whom anything is known is Thomas of
Mevagissey, who married a certain Audrey, her surname unknown, by whom
he had two sons, John and Thomas, and three daughters.

John Hawkins, of S. Erth, the eldest, married Loveday, daughter of
George Tremhayle, by whom--who was living in 1676--he had four
surviving sons and three daughters, viz. Thomas; George, Vicar of
Sithney; Reginald, D.D., Master of Pembroke College, Cambridge; and
Francis. Thomas, the eldest, of Trewinnard in S. Erth, married
Florence, daughter of James Praed, of Trevethow, near Hayle, by whom
he had a daughter, Florence, the wife of John Williams, merchant, of
Helston; and as his second wife he had Anne, daughter of Christopher
Bellot, of Bodmin, by whom he had six daughters and four sons, of
which latter, John, Thomas, and Renatus died young, and only
Christopher lived. Thomas Hawkins, the father, died in 1716.

Christopher Hawkins, of Trewinnard, only surviving son, married Mary,
daughter of Philip Hawkins, of Penzance, a supposed descendant of the
Hawkinses of Devonshire, by whom he had a daughter, Jane, married to
Sir Richard Vyvyan, of Trelowaren, Bart., and a son, Thomas Hawkins,
of Trewithen, M.P. for Grampound, who married Anne, daughter of James
Heywood, of London, by whom he had four sons--Philip, who d.s.p.;
Christopher; Thomas, who d.s.p.; John, of Bignor, Sussex, who married
the daughter of Humphrey Sibthorpe, M.P. for Lincoln--and a daughter,
who married Charles Trelawny, son of General Trelawny. Thomas Hawkins
died on December 1st, 1770, and was succeeded by his second son,
Christopher Hawkins, of Trewithen and Trewinnard, born at Trewithen
May, 1758.[31] The seat Trewithen in Probus descended to his father
from his grandmother's brother, Philip Hawkins, M.P. for the pocket
borough of Grampound.

Christopher Hawkins came in for a good deal of land, derived through
the marriage of the ancestors of Philip Hawkins, of Trewithen, with
the heiresses of Scobell and Tredenham and that of his own
great-grandfather to the co-heiress of Bellot of Bochym.

Christopher never married, and was of a frugal mind, buying land in
all directions, and securing the pocket boroughs, where possible, as
excellent investments. It was said of Trewithen--

          A large park without deer,
          A large cellar without beer,
          A large house without cheer,
          Sir Christopher Hawkins lives here.

But this was not fair, for there was certainly hospitality shown at
Trewithen. Polwhele says: "Not a week before his death, I passed a
delightful day with the hospitable baronet. To draw around him the few
literary characters of his neighbourhood was his peculiar pleasure; and
at Trewithen the clergy in particular had always a hearty welcome."

He purchased the manor of S. Ives in or about 1807, the fair at
Mitchell, in Enoder, commanding the election to that borough, and the
four fairs at Grampound giving him control there also over elections.

A good many of the Cornish boroughs had been so constituted in the
reign of Edward VI by the Protector Somerset, that he might get his
own creatures into Parliament. Such were Camelford, Mitchell, Newport,
Saltash, West Looe, Bossiney, Grampound, and Penryn. Queen Mary raised
S. Ives into a borough in 1550, and Elizabeth created six more to
serve her own political purposes, S. Germans, S. Mawes, Tregony, East
Looe, Fowey, and Callington.

Mitchell is a mere hamlet, and in 1660 the franchise was solemnly
transferred from the inhabitants at large to nominees of the lord of the
manor. In 1689 it was determined that the right of election lay in the
lords of the borough, who were liable to be chosen portreeve thereof,
and the householders of the same not receiving alms. But the borough in
the latter years of its existence became a battleground of many
combatants, and as the right of voting was, until 1701, left in great
ambiguity by successive election committees, the result of the contest
could never be predicted. In 1701, the right of election for this
distracted borough was again changed. This time it was vested in the
portreeve and lord of the manor and the inhabitants paying scot and lot.
In 1784, Hawkins and Howell were elected members, and sat in Parliament
for Mitchell for twelve years, till 1796, and Sir Christopher became by
purchase the sole owner of the borough; and after Howell had ceased to
represent Mitchell, he continued as its representative to 1806, when he
surrendered his seat to Arthur Wellesley, subsequently Duke of
Wellington. The electors by this time had been reduced to five. In the
eleven years, 1807-18, there were nine elections at Mitchell, not owing
to feuds, but retirement of members. No event of importance occurred
after 1818 to 1832, except the extraordinary and significant revelation
that at the contested election of 1831, when Hawkins (Sir Christopher's
nephew) got two votes, Kenyon five, and Best three. Five voters to
return two members. In 1833 those five electors found their borough
disfranchised, a fate it richly deserved.

Penryn had been raised into the position of a borough returning two
members of Parliament, in 1553.

Mr. Courtney says of 1774: "About this period the borough of Penryn
began to be notorious through the county for the readiness of its
voters to barter their rights for pecuniary considerations. The
franchise was on such an extended basis that almost every householder,
though many of these were labourers, indigent and ignorant, was an
elector." In 1807 there were, however, but 140; in 1819 they had risen
to 328. Each got a "breakfast" and £24 for his vote.

In 1780, Sir Francis Bassett gave a feast to the whole borough; he
continued his patronage till 1807, as Lord de Dunstanville. In 1802
Swann and Milford contested a vacant seat in the borough, and
Dunstanville to secure the second seat had to resort to putting
faggot-voters on the poor-rates, the night before the election.
Petition being made against the election, it ended in a compromise,
and Swann received £10,000 besides expenses. Lord de Dunstanville,
disgusted at the expense and the weakening of his influence, abandoned
the borough. Swann thereupon gave a "breakfast" to his supporters; a
"breakfast" was synonymous with a bribe of £24. Penryn was concerned
at the retirement of its lordly patron, and founded a club in 1805 for
electors, such as would most conduce to the pecuniary welfare of the
voters. When the election of 1806 was imminent and the former patron
had withdrawn, a deputation of the members was sent to Trewithen to
that notorious election-monger, Sir Kit, to tender to him the goodwill
of the constituency. "The details of the negotiations conducted at
this interview," says Mr. Courtney, "became the subject of subsequent
investigation; but it was admitted that the voters stopped there for
four hours and dined at the baronet's table, which on this occasion,
no doubt, was more freely supplied than according to local gossip was
the custom on ordinary days. The deputation informed Sir Christopher
that Mr. Swann--the Black Swan as he was called by his enemies--who
had been nursing the borough since 1802, must obtain one of the seats,
but that the other was at his disposal. These two worthy politicians,
Hawkins and Swann, thereupon coalesced, drink and food were freely
supplied; two voters, one for each candidate, went round and gave each
elector a one-pound note to drink their health with, and the result
was that on the 1st November, 1806, the poll showed a large majority
for Swann and Hawkins over Mr. Trevanion and his colleague William
Wingfield." A petition followed, and the evidence was of such a
compromising character that Mr. Serjeant Lens abandoned the case on
behalf of Hawkins. The evidence produced was that the deputation of
voters, headed by a clergyman, which had gone to Trewithen to offer
him the borough, had associated with Sir Kit to sell their votes and
interest for twenty-four guineas apiece paid to themselves, and for
ten guineas to be handed to each of the overseers, and that the offer
was duly accepted. An address to the King for the prosecution of Sir
Christopher Hawkins and eighteen members of the committee was carried
to the House of Commons. The trial took place at Bodmin on the 19th
August, 1808, when Cobbett attended in person to watch the trial and
report proceedings in his _Political Register_. The questions in
dispute centred on the terms of the agreement; the chief witness swore
that the documents signed by Hawkins stipulated that twenty-four
guineas should be given to each of the leaders of the party, ten
guineas apiece to the two overseers and twenty shillings to each of
the voters. But this evidence was unsupported, no other of the
committee could be induced or intimidated into admitting that this had
been the agreement; no one in Penryn desired to kill the goose that
laid the golden eggs, and the defendant was acquitted, "to dabble in
borough-mongering for the rest of his life."

At the election of 1807, Sir Christopher had no place in Parliament,
but Swann sat again for Penryn.

In 1812 Hawkins wooed the borough in vain, in opposition to Philip
Gell. The Black Swan was the other member elected, but great
indignation was roused against him when it was found that he had left
his bills unpaid for treating and breakfasting his adherents.

Then a committee approached Sir Manasseh Lopes, but he declined to buy
the votes at the price of £2000.

But Swann managed to recover favour and increase the number of voters
in his constituency by 200 votes, and to form a company to provide
granite from the vicinity for Waterloo Bridge over the Thames, so
providing work for the voters of Penryn, and Hawkins and Swann were
returned. The usual petition followed, and evidence of bribery came
out. One voter swore that he had received £5, and his wife another £5;
another £7; and many others various sums from ten shillings to ten
pounds. Swann was declared guilty and imprisoned 1819-20.

In the election of 1827 it was admitted that £1850 had been distributed
among the electors. Seventy votes had been sold at £10 apiece.

Grampound had had its elections controlled by Lord Eliot. In the
election of 1796 the fifty electors received for their votes £3000, and
the patron, Eliot, pocketed £6000 himself. The patronage was then sold
to Sir Kit Hawkins, to whom a friend wrote in 1796: "Fame speaks loudly
of your doings. The borough, by her own account, is all your own, and
such is certainly preferable to Tregony. The small number of voters in
one, and the vast number in the other, pulls down the balance in favour
of Grampound, and from the continuance of Eliot we may infer that a
possession once obtained may last forty or fifty years."

But after the election of 1806 the recognized, nay undisputed patron,
Sir Christopher, keeping voters in his pay, and holding the nomination
to two seats, found that his power was weakened. His candidate, the
Nabob Fawcett, did not pay as he had promised. The electors
accordingly determined to transfer their favours to some other great
man, and eventually elected Andrew C. Johnstone, Governor of Dominica,
by twenty-seven over the Hawkins candidate, who polled only thirteen.

"Up to this time," says the historian, "a decent veil of reserve had
been thrown over the delinquencies of the Grampound electors; now it
was cast aside, and their deformities were disclosed to the view of
the whole political world. Enquiry followed enquiry, and prosecution
prosecution." The borough engaged the attention of members of
Parliament and Press correspondents. Great Cobbett went to Bodmin in
1808 to see the trial of Sir Kit, the Mayor, Recorder, and four
capital Burgesses. This petition unseated the anti-Hawkins candidate,
and a new writ was issued. It was now arranged that Cochrane, patron
of the anti-Kittite, should give £5000 for one, or £8400 for the two
seats, to be distributed, and that each of the elected should pay £12
10s. to the wives of the several electors. Each voter eventually did
get about £80. The anti-Kittites polled twenty-seven, and Mr. Hawkins'
nominee fourteen. What does the Mayor do? Strike off sufficient votes
from the anti-Kittite, so as to give the local baronet a majority of
one, and returned his nominees as duly elected. A second petition
restored Cochrane.

Sir Kit, discerning that his influence over the electors at Grampound
was passing away, determined to increase the number of voters. The
electors had consisted of an indefinite number of freemen elected at
Easter and Michaelmas by the eligers. This election was artfully
deferred till good Kittites could be secured to fill the places desired.

In 1812 Cochrane was still in possession, but he made way for
Johnston, associating Teed with him. This man gave each elector £100
in promissory notes. Johnston was, however, expelled the House in 1814
for frauds on the Stock Exchange. Thereupon in came Sir Christopher
Hawkins again. He was again brought before the notice of the House in
1818, when there appeared six candidates. Innes and Robertson were
elected by thirty-six votes: the rest (eleven) went to Teed. After
that, on Teed's petition, the whole secret of the nefarious system
came to light. The voters, it appeared, had applied to Sir Kit; but
that worthy baronet was tired of their solicitations, and refused to
advance a penny. So they turned to the Jew Manasseh Lopes, who gave
£2000 to be distributed among forty electors. But when the money
arrived, the Mayor intercepted £300 for himself, another took £140, so
that the rank and file got only £35 apiece instead of the expected
£50; £8000 was paid privily by a sitting member. Again a petition, and
Manasseh Lopes was convicted of bribery in both Devon and Cornwall,
was fined £10,000, and incarcerated at Exeter for two years.

Lord John Russell was prepared to extirpate bribery, and in particular
to disfranchise Grampound; the House of Commons agreed without a
dissentient voice, but the death of George III hindered proceedings,
and the last two members were returned.

S. Ives had been erected into a borough by Philip and Mary in 1558.
Here, after 1689, the Praeds, Whigs, were all-powerful. In 1751, after
long being stewards of the Earls of Buckinghamshire, the Stephens family
began to assert itself. Thenceforth during the long reign of George III
a severe contest for influence over the elections was waged between the
two families. In 1774 a Praed got ninety-five votes, a Drummond
ninety-eight, and Stephens was left out in the cold with seventy-one.
But the usual petition showed Praed's corruption too manifestly. Money
had been lent to the voters, with the tacit understanding that in the
event of election it was not to be asked for, and forty persons, sure
voters for Stephens, had been omitted from the rates. In 1806 Sir Kit
Hawkins, gained a share in representation; his candidate, Horner. But
Stephens got 135 votes and Horner 128; the other candidate opposing him
was left far in the rear, with only five votes. But Horner was out again
at the next election. In 1820 Sir Christopher had the appointment to
both seats entirely in his own hands.

Tregony had been made into a borough under Queen Elizabeth in 1562.
Before 1832 it was described as "destitute of trade, wealth, and
common activity."

Writing in 1877, the last Cornish historian remarks that the condition
of Tregony had passed from bad to worse. Many of its houses were then
in ruins, and the scene of desolation was spreading. In early times
Tregony had been a seaport on a tidal creek, but that was silted up,
and no boat could now reach it, so that its commercial importance was
wholly gone.

During the eighteenth century the representatives of Tregony were men
of little importance, small placemen unconnected with Cornwall. In the
long array of aliens and Court satellites, the name of one Cornish
gentleman stands out in bright relief; 1747-67, for twenty years (a
long period) Mr. Trevanion represented it. The election of 1774
excited much notice. Lord North advised a note to be written to Lord
Falmouth: "His Lordship must be told in as polite terms as possible,
that I hope he will permit me to recommend to three of his six seats
in Cornwall. The terms he expects are £2000 a seat, to which I am
ready to agree." Later on, he says that his candidate Pownall must get
in for Lostwithiel, and Conway represent Tregony, and he added: "My
noble friend (Falmouth) is rather shabby, desiring guineas instead of
pounds," but signified his will to pay rather than drop the bargain.
Again: "Gascoyne shall have the refusal of Tregony for £1000," and the
Minister complained that he saw no way of bringing him in at a cheaper
rate than any other servant of the Crown.

In 1776 the Boscawen influence was sold to Sir Kit Hawkins, but he did
not retain it for long, for he disposed of it to a Nabob, Barwell, and
the two continued on friendly terms. When the living of Cuby fell
vacant--Cuby is the parish church of Tregony--Sir Kit asked Barwell, who
now had the presentation, to give it to a friend of his, alleging that
"he had great interest" and assuring Barwell that his clerical friend
would reside in the place, and by his great activity in the borough
prevent, if possible, any opposition arising to Mr. Barwell. But at the
very next election Sir Kit ran and returned two members against Barwell.

In the contest of 1784, Lord Kenyon, a lawyer, obtained the seat by
purchase, polling 90, while his two opponents got 69 each.

In 1806 an O'Callinghan and a Yorkshire Whig, through Darlington's
interest polled against Barwell's interest 102 against 86. At this
election the following trick was played. A Tregony tailor and
publican, called Middlecoat, offered to seat Sir Jonathan Miles for
4000 guineas. At the poll the returning officer, who was biased or had
been tampered with, struck off many good votes from Miles, and gave
bad ones to others. Sir Jonathan petitioned and, for the expenses of
the petition, sent Middlecoat a large sum of money, and he prevented
the witnesses from appearing, and the sitting members were accordingly
pronounced to be duly elected. Middlecoat had secured £2500 from the
sitting nominees (Barwellians) to keep back the witnesses, as well as
£4200 from Sir Jonathan to bring them forward.

In 1812 O'Callinghan was unseated, and petitioned, showing that £5000
had been distributed among the voters; nevertheless the sitting
members were received. Holmes, one of them, said--to show what was the
degraded condition of the borough--that out of 127 votes in his
favour, 98 had been evicted into the street the day after the
election, some having been called on to pay their rents, but were
unable to do so at the moment, and others, whose annual rents were
only £8, had been mulcted in costs to the extent of £98.

Middlecoat, and four others of like spirit, went to London in 1818 to
search for candidates for Tregony and Grampound, offering the former
for £6000 and the latter for £7000. A banker and a general came down
before the election, but found that the voters would make no promise
unless the money were paid down. So they had to return to London
"proclaiming their disappointment at every turn, and cursing the
scoundrels who would not trust them."

Christopher Hawkins was returned for Mitchell in 1784, re-elected in
1790 and 1796. In June, 1799, he vacated his seat by accepting the
Stewardship of the Chiltern Hundreds. In August, 1800, he was elected
for Grampound, again in 1802 and 1806. In 1818 he was returned for
Penryn, and in June, 1821, for S. Ives. He was created baronet on July
28th, 1791. He was Recorder of Grampound and S. Ives and, at the time
when he relinquished his seat finally, he was the father of the House
of Commons.

Sir Christopher encouraged the famous engineer and inventor Richard
Trevithick, and in the life of that worthy, by Francis Trevithick, are
given some letters that passed between them; but Mr. F. Trevithick
persistently calls Sir Christopher Sir Charles. Sir Kit was the first
man to adopt a steam thrashing-machine in 1812, an invention of
Trevithick; it was used for the first time at Trewithen in February in
that year. A committee of experts was called in to witness its
operations and report on them, and this is their report, dated
February 12th, 1812:--

"Having been requested to witness and report on the effect of steam
applied to work a mill for thrashing corn at Trewithen, we hereby
testify that a fire was lighted under the boiler of the engine five
minutes after eight o'clock, and at twenty-five minutes after nine
o'clock the thrashing mill began to work, in which time one bushel of
coal was consumed. That from the time the mill began to work to two
minutes after two o'clock, being four hours and three-quarters, fifteen
hundred sheaves of barley were thrashed clean, and one bushel of coal
more was consumed. We think there was sufficient steam remaining in the
boiler to have thrashed from fifty to one hundred sheaves more barley,
and the water in the boiler was by no means exhausted. We had the
satisfaction to observe that common labourers regulated the thrashing
mill, and in a moment of time made it go faster, slower, or entirely
cease working. We approve of the steadiness and the velocity with which
the machine worked, and in every respect we prefer the power of steam,
as here applied, to that of horse.

                                        MATTHEW ROBERTS, Lansellyn.
                                        THOS. NANKEVILL, Golden.
                                        MATTHEW DOBLE, Barthlever."

Sir Christopher entered into negotiation with Trevithick about
constructing a breakwater to the harbour at S. Ives, at Pendinas Point.
It was begun, but never completed, owing to the death of the baronet.
But a good thing he did achieve, though done for a political purpose, by
indirect bribery, was the establishment of a free school at S. Ives, in
Shute Street; the charge of admission was one penny per week, and in it
navigation was taught. It was opened on April 11th, 1822.

In the diary of Captain John Tregerthen Short of the events taking
place at S. Ives between 1817 and 1838 we have: "1828, June 10th. At
10 a.m. Sir Christopher Hawkins, Bart., and Wellesley Long Pole, Esq.,
the former supporting the cause of the Right Hon. Sir Charles
Arbuthnot, attended at the Town Hall, where Wellesley Long Pole, Esq.,
resigned the contest, and Sir Charles Arbuthnot was elected without
opposition. Immediately afterwards Mr. Wellesley Pole made an active
and successful canvass of the town for another election, and left S.
Ives at 10 p.m., having given each voter 5s., and Sir Christopher
Hawkins gave all his friends 5s."

"July 21st.--All Mr. Wellesley's voters had a public dinner; each
received one guinea to defray the expense of the dinner, which came to
7s. 3d. per man." Oh, what a falling off is here! Only 5s. each voter,
whereas elsewhere, at Grampound, Tregony, Penryn, and Mitchell, a free
and independent elector would turn up his nose at £10. But Captain
Short does not inform us what the _douceurs_ had been that were paid
previous to the election.

Sir Christopher Hawkins died of erysipelas at Trewithen on April 6th,

Captain Short enters on that day:--

"Sir Christopher Hawkins, Bart., departed this life this morning in
the seventy-first year of his age. His death will be greatly felt and
deplored by hundreds. His charitable contributions amongst the
indigent will be found greatly wanting. A more generous and benevolent
landlord could not be found. He was never known to distrain for rent.
He established a Free School in S. Ives for the education of the poor,
and gave the sum of £100 towards enlarging the Wesleyan Methodist
Chapel in this town."

The _Gentleman's Magazine_ for 1830 says that Sir Kit Hawkins's
property at S. Ives was sold then, "which secures the purchaser a seat
in Parliament, for the borough was lately sold by auction in London
for the sum of £55,000. It is reported that the purchaser is the
Marquess of Cleveland."

A bad bargain, for three years after the Reform Bill was passed, and
S. Ives ceased to be a pocket borough.


[31] Baptized at Probus 29th May, 1758.

                             ANNE JEFFERIES

Moses Pitt, a publisher in London, a native of S. Teath, in 1696
published the following letter to the Bishop of Gloucester. There are
two editions of it, with slight and insignificant variations both in
the preliminary address and in the account of Anne Jefferies.

The preamble we omit.

"Anne Jefferies (for that was her maiden name), of whom the following
strange things are related, was born in the parish of S. Teath, in the
county of Cornwall, in December, 1626, and she is still living in
1696, being in the seventieth year of her age. She is married to one
William Warren, formerly hind to the late eminent physician Dr.
Richard Lewes, deceased, and now lives as a hind to Sir Andrew
Slanning, of Devon, Bart.

"In the year 1691 I wrote into Cornwall to my sister Mary Martyn's son,
attorney, to go to the said Anne and discourse her, as from me, about
the most strange passages of her life. He answers my letter September
13th, 1691, and saith: 'I have been with Anne Jefferies, and she can
give me no particular account of her condition, it being so long since.
My grandmother and mother say that she was in Bodmin jail three months,
and lived six months without meat; and during her continuance in that
condition several eminent cures were performed by her; the particulars
no one can now state. My mother saw the fairies once, and heard one say
that they should give some meat to the child, that she might return unto
her parents, which is the fullest relation can now be given.' But I, not
being satisfied with the answer, did in the year 1693 write into
Cornwall and my sister's husband, Mr. Humphry Martyn, and desired him to
go to Anne Jefferies to see if he could persuade her to give me what
account she could remember of the many and strange passages of her life.
He answered by letter, January 31st, 1693, and saith: 'As for Anne
Jefferies, I have been with her the greatest part of one day, and did
read to her all that you wrote to me; but she would not own anything of
it as concerning the fairies, neither of the cures she then did. I
endeavoured to persuade her she might receive some benefit by it. She
answered that if her own father were now alive she would not discover to
him those things which did happen to her. I asked her the reason why she
would not do it; she replied that if she should discover it to you, that
you would make either books or ballads of it; and she said that she
would not have her name spread about the country in books or ballads, or
such things, if she might have £500 for doing it; for she said she had
been questioned before justices, and at the sessions, and in prison, and
also before the judges at the assizes, and she doth believe that if she
should discover such things now she would be questioned again for it. As
for the ancient inhabitants of S. Teath Church-town, there are none of
them now alive but Thomas Christopher, a blind man. (NOTE: This Thomas
Christopher was then a servant in my father's house, when these things
happened, and he remembers many of the passages you write of her.) And
as for my wife, she then being so little did not mind it, but heard her
father and mother relate most of the passages you wrote of her.'

"This is all I can, at present, possibly get from her, and therefore I
now go on with my relation of the wonderful cures and other strange
things she did, or happened to her, which is the substance of what I
wrote to my brother and that he read to her.

"It is the custom in our county of Cornwall for the most substantial
people of each parish to take apprentices the poor children, and to
breed them up till they attain to twenty-one years of age, and for
their services to give them meat, drink, and clothes. This Anne
Jefferies, being a poor man's child of the parish, by Providence fell
into our family, where she lived many years. Being a girl of a bold,
daring spirit, she would venture at those difficulties and dangers
that no boy would attempt.

"In the year 1645 (she being nineteen years old), she being one day
knitting in an arbour in our garden, there came over the hedge to her,
as she affirmed, six persons of small stature, all clothed in green,
which she called fairies. Upon which she was so frightened that she fell
into a kind of convulsive fit. But when we found her in this condition,
we brought her into the house and put her to bed, and took great care of
her. As soon as she recovered out of her fit she cried out, 'They are
just gone out of the window! Do you not see them?' And thus in the
height of her sickness she would often cry out, and that with eagerness,
which expressions were attributed to her distemper, supposing her
light-headed. During the extremity of her sickness my father's mother
died, which was in April, 1646; he durst not acquaint our maid Anne of
it for fear it might have increased her distemper, she being at that
time so very sick that she could not go, nor so much as stand on her
feet; and also the extremity of her sickness, and the long continuance
of her distemper had almost perfectly moped her, so that she became even
as a changeling; and as soon as she began to recover, or to get a little
strength, she in her going would spread her legs as wide as she could,
and so lay hold with her hands on tables, chairs, forms, stools, etc.,
till she had learnt to go again; and if anything vexed her, she would
fall into her fits, and continue in them for a long time, so that we
were afraid she would have died in one of them.

"As soon as she recovered a little strength she constantly went to
church to pay her devotions to our great and good God. She took mighty
delight in devotion and in hearing the Word of God read and preached,
although she herself could not read. The first manual operation or
cure she performed was on my mother. The occasion was as follows: One
afternoon in the harvest time, all our family being in the fields at
work (and myself a boy at school), there was none in the house but my
mother and this Anne. My mother, considering that bread might be
a-wanting for the labourers, if care were not taken, and she having
before caused some bushels of wheat to be sent to the mill, which was
but a quarter of a mile from our house, desired to hasten the miller
to bring home the meal, that so her maids as soon as they came from
the fields might make and bake the bread; but in the meantime how to
dispose of her maid Anne was her great care, for she did not dare
trust her in the house alone, for fear she might do herself some
mischief by fire, or set the house on fire, for at that time she was
so weak that she could hardly help herself, and very silly withal. At
last, by much persuasion, my mother prevailed with her to walk in the
gardens and orchard till she came from the mill, to which she
willingly consented. Then my mother locked the door of the house and
walked to the mill; but as she was coming home, she slipped and hurt
her leg, so as that she could not rise. There she lay a considerable
time in great pain, till a neighbour, coming by on horseback, seeing
my mother in this condition, lifted her upon his horse. As soon as she
was brought within doors of the house, word was sent into the fields
to the reapers, who thereupon immediately left their harvest work and
came home. The house being presently full of people, a man-servant was
ordered to take a horse and ride for Mr. Lobb, an eminent surgeon who
then lived at Bodmin, which was eight miles from my father's house.
But, while the man was getting the horse ready, in comes our maid
Anne, and tells my mother that she was heartily sorry for the
mischance she had got in hurting her leg, and that she did it at such
a place, naming the place, and further, she desired she might see her
leg. My mother at first refused to show her leg, saying to her, What
should she show her leg to so poor and silly a creature as she was,
for she could do her no good. But Anne being very importunate with my
mother to see her leg, and my mother being unwilling to vex her by
denying her, for fear of her falling into her fits, for at all times
we dealt gently, lovingly, and kindly with her, did yield to her
request, and did show her her leg.

"Upon which Anne took my mother's leg upon her lap and stroked it with
her hand, and then asked my mother if she did not find ease by her
stroking of it? My mother confessed to her she did. Upon this she
desired my mother to forbear sending for the surgeon, for she would, by
the blessing of God, cure her leg. And to satisfy my mother of the truth
of it, she again appealed to my mother whether she did not find further
ease upon her continued stroking of the part affected. Which my mother
again acknowledged she did. Upon this my mother countermanded the
messenger for the surgeon. On this my mother demanded of her how she
came to the knowledge of her fall. She made answer that half a dozen
persons had told her of it. 'That,' replied my mother, 'could not be,
for there were none came by at that time but my neighbour, who brought
me home.' Anne answers again that that was truth, and it was also true
that half a dozen persons told her so, for, said she, 'you know I went
out of the house into the garden and orchard very unwillingly; and now I
will tell you the truth of all matters and things that have befallen me.
You know that this my sickness and fits came very suddenly upon me,
which brought me very low and weak, and have made me very simple. Now
the cause of my sickness was this: I was one day knitting of stockings
in the arbour of the garden, and there came over the garden hedge of a
sudden six small people, all in green clothes, which put me into such a
great fright that was the cause of my sickness; and they continue their
appearance to me, never less than two at a time nor more than eight.
They always appear in even numbers--2, 4, 6, 8. When I said often in my
sickness they were just gone out of the window, it was really so,
although you thought me light-headed. At this time, when I came out into
the garden, they came to me and asked me if you had put me out of the
house against my will. I told them I was unwilling to come out of the
house. Upon this they said you should not fare better for it, and
thereupon, in that place and at that time, in a fair pathway you fell
and hurt your leg. I would not have you send for a surgeon nor trouble
yourself, for I will cure your leg.' The which she did in a little time.

"This cure of my mother's leg, and the stories she told of those
fairies, made a noise all over the county of Cornwall. People of all
distempers, sicknesses, sores, and ages came not only so far off as
the Land's End, but also from London, and were cured by her. She took
no money of them nor any reward that ever I knew or heard of, yet had
she monies at all times, sufficient to supply her wants. She neither
made nor bought any medicines or salves that ever I saw or heard of,
yet wanted them not as she had occasion. She forsook eating our
victuals and was fed by those fairies from the harvest time to the
next Christmas Day, upon which day she came to our table and said
because it was that day she would eat some roast beef with us, the
which she did, I myself being then at the table.

"One time (I remember it perfectly well) I had a mind to speak with
her, and not knowing better where to find her than in her chamber, I
went thither, and fell a-knocking very earnestly at her chamber door
with my foot, and calling to her earnestly 'Anne! Anne! open the door
and let me in.' She answered me, 'Have a little patience and I will
let you in, immediately.' Upon which I looked through the keyhole of
the door and saw her eating; and when she had done eating she stood
still by the bedside as long as thanks might be given, and then she
made a courtesy (or bend) and opened the chamber door, and gave me a
piece of the bread, which I did eat, and I think it was the most
delicious bread that ever I did eat, either before or since.

"Another odd passage, which I must relate, was this: One Lord's Day,
my father with his family being at dinner in our hall, comes in one
of our neighbours, whose name was Francis Heathman, and asked where
Anne was. We told him she was in her chamber. Upon this he goes into
her chamber to see her, but, not seeing her, he calls her. She not
answering, he feels up and down the chamber for her, but not finding
her, comes and tells us she was not in her chamber. As soon as he had
said this, she comes out of her chamber to us, as we were sitting at
table, and tells him she was in her chamber and saw him and heard him
call her, and saw him feel up and down the chamber for her, and had
almost felt her, but he could not see her, although she saw him,
notwithstanding she was, at the same time, at the table in her
chamber, eating her dinner.

"One day these fairies gave my sister (the new wife of Mr. Humphry
Martyn) then about four years of age, a silver cup, which held about a
quart, bidding her give it my mother, and she did bring it my mother;
but my mother would not accept of it, but bid her carry it to them
again; which she did. I presume this was the time my sister owns she
saw the fairies. I confess to your lordship, I never did see them. I
had almost forgot to tell your lordship, that Anne would tell what
people would come to her, several days before they came, and from
whence, and at what time they would come.

"I have seen Anne in the orchard, dancing among the trees, and she
told me she was then dancing with the fairies.

"The great noise of the many strange cures Anne did, and also her
living without eating our victuals, she being fed, as she said, by
these fairies, caused both the neighbouring magistrates and ministers
to resort to my father's house, and talk with her, and strictly
examine her about the matter here related; and she gave them very
rational answers to all their questions they then asked her; for by
this time she was well recovered out of her sickness and fits, and her
natural parts and understanding much improved, my father and all his
family affirming the truth of all she said.

"The ministers endeavouring to persuade her they were evil spirits
resorted to her, and that it was the delusions of the devil. But how
could that be when she did no hurt, but good to all who came to her for
cure of their distempers? and advised her not to go to them when they
called her. However, that night after the magistrates and ministers were
gone, my father, with his family, sitting at a great fire in the hall,
Anne being also present, she spake to my father and said, 'Now they
call!' meaning the fairies. We all of us urged her not to go. In less
than half a quarter of an hour she said, 'Now they call a second time!'
We encouraged her again not to go to them. By and by she said, 'Now they
call a third time!' Upon which, away to her chamber she went to them. Of
all these calls of the fairies, none heard them but Anne. After she had
been in the chamber some time, she came to us again with a Bible in her
hand, and tells us that when she came to the fairies, they said to her,
'What, hath there been some magistrates and ministers to you, and
dissuaded you from coming any more to us, saying we are evil spirits,
and that it is all delusions of the devil? Pray desire them to read in
the 1st Epistle of S. John, chapter 4, verse 1, "Dearly beloved, believe
not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they be of God."' This
place of Scripture was turned down to in the said Bible. I told your
lordship before, Anne could not read.

"After this, one John Tregeagle, Esq., who was steward to John, Earl
of Radnor, being then a Justice of Peace in Cornwall, sent his
warrant for Anne, and sent her to Bodmin jail, and there kept her a
long time. That day the constable came to execute his warrant, Anne
milking the cows, the fairies appeared to her and told her that a
constable would come that day with a warrant to carry her before a
justice of the peace, and she would be sent to jail. She asked them if
she should hide herself. They answered, No, she should fear nothing,
but go with the constable. So she went with the constable to the
justice, and he sent her to Bodmin jail and ordered the prison-keeper
that she should be kept without victuals; and she was so kept, and yet
she lived, and that without complaining. When the sessions came, the
justices of the peace sent their warrant to one Giles Bawden, a
neighbour of ours, who was then a constable, for my mother and myself
to appear before them, at the sessions, to answer such questions as
should be demanded of us about our poor maid Anne.

"Bodmin was eight miles from my father's. When we came to the sessions,
the first who was called in before the justices was my mother. What
questions they asked her I do not remember. When they had done examining
her, they desired her to withdraw. As soon as she came forth I was
brought in, and called to the upper end of the table to be examined, and
there was the clerk of the peace, with the pen ready in his hand, to
take my examination. The first question they asked me was, 'What have
you got in your pockets?' I answered, 'Nothing, sir, but my cuffs':
which I immediately plucked out and I showed them. The second question
to me was, If I had any victuals in my pockets for my maid Anne? I
answered I had not; and so they dismissed me, as well as my mother. But
poor Anne lay in jail for a considerable time after; and also Justice
Tregeagle, who was her great persecutor, kept her in his house some time
as a prisoner, and that without victuals. And at last when Anne was
discharged out of prison, the justice made an order that Anne should not
live any more with my father. Whereupon my father's only sister, Mrs.
Frances Tom, a widow, near Padstow, took Anne into her family, and there
she lived a considerable time and did many cures; but what they were, my
kinsman, Mr. William Tom, who there lived in the house with his mother,
can give your lordship the best account of any I know living, except
Anne herself. And from hence she went to live with her own brother, and,
in process of time, married, etc.

"I am your lordship's most humble and dutiful servant,

                                                        "MOSES PITT.

  "_May 1st, 1699._"

       *       *       *       *       *

There are several points to be considered in this curious story. It is
written in all good faith, and is an honest account of what Pitt
remembered of events that took place some fifty years previously, when
he was a boy.

There is nothing in the first portion of the story that cannot be
explained without the intervention of fairies or pixies; but it is not
so easy to account for Anne's abstaining wholly from the food of
mortals like herself and being sustained on fairy food. It is not
uncommon for women to pretend that they do not eat; there have been
many "fasting girls," but all have been shown up to be impostors. In
this case, however, Anne Jefferies did not pretend to be a fasting
girl, but to be nourished by fairies. In the house of the Pitts she
might have surreptitiously procured food, but this she could not do
in the jail at Bodmin, nor in the house of Justice Tregeagle.

As to the cures she wrought, they are to be put in the same category
as faith cures all the world over, whether performed at Lourdes, or by
Christian scientists, or by Shamans in the steppes of Tartary.

Moses Pitt, the writer of the letter, was the son of John Pitt,
yeoman, of S. Teath; he was bound apprentice to Robert Litterbury,
citizen and haberdasher, in London, for seven years from October 1st,
1654. He became a foreman of the Haberdashers' Company 8th November,
1661, and started as a publisher and speculative builder. In 1680 he
began to issue _The English Atlas_ at his shop "The Angel," in S.
Paul's Churchyard. It was to be in twelve volumes, and was dedicated
to the King, but was never completed, as he got into difficulties. In
the first place he became sole executor to a Captain Richard Mill, who
had tenant right to the "Blue Boar's Head," in King Street,
Westminster, at an annual rent of £20. Pitt had to pay this, and also
Captain Mill's widow an annuity of £50. But he found the "Blue Boar's
Head" so dilapidated that he had to rebuild it at a heavy outlay
before he could let it. Then he had a quarrel with a neighbour about a
party wall he was rebuilding, leading to law proceedings, and Pitt was
cast in costs and damages. But his most serious loss was entailed by
his building a house for Lord Chancellor Jeffreys, which that judge
agreed to take at £300 per annum. As part of the land on which it was
to be built was Crown property, Jeffreys guaranteed Pitt that he would
obtain a lease for ninety-nine years of it, and bade him hurry on the
building. When Pitt had spent £4000 on it, Jeffreys was disgraced and
fell, owing to the flight of James II and the advent of William of
Orange. Pitt, greatly embarrassed for money, fled to Ireland; he
mortgaged his estates for £3000, but as his creditors were not
satisfied, he was finally arrested and sent to the Fleet Prison April
18th, 1689, where he remained till the 16th May, 1691, when he was
transferred to the King's Bench.

He published in the same year "The Cry of the Oppressed, being a true
and tragical account of the unparallel'd suffering of multitudes of
poor imprisoned debtors in most of the gaols of England, under the
tyranny of the gaolers and other oppressors.... Together with the case
of the Publisher." The sufferings of the debtors he knew by personal
experience, and his revelation is one of horrors perpetrated in the
Fleet and elsewhere, and illustrated with very graphic copper-plates.
His account of his own troubles occupies sixty-seven pages, and shows
him to have been a reckless speculator. Having been educated as a
haberdasher, he undertook to be a publisher, and simultaneously to be
a builder.

He probably obtained his release before 1695, as in that year he
published a letter relative to some discourses upon Dr. Burnet and Dr.
Tillotson, by a parson named George Hicker, D.D., and in 1696 he wrote
the account of Anne Jefferies, given above. He was married to a Miss
Upman. The date of his death is not known. Justice Tregeagle, who was
the special "persecutor" of Anne Jefferies, is very well remembered in
Cornish legend. He was a particularly wicked man and harsh steward,
and lies buried near the chancel of S. Breock. His home was Trevorder,
in that parish.

                         THOMAS KILLIGREW, THE
                             KING'S JESTER

The Killigrew family seems to have possessed a great hankering after
the stage, for four of them were playwrights. Indeed, Henry Killigrew,
educated at Christ Church, Oxford, began at the age of seventeen, when
a play written by him was performed at the nuptials of Lord Charles
Herbert with Lady Mary Villiers, at the Black Friars. Some critics
present objected that one of the characters, representing a boy of
seventeen, talked too freely for his age, and Falkland replied "that
it was neither monstrous nor impossible for one of seventeen years to
speak at such a rate; when he that made him speak in that manner, and
who wrote the whole play, was himself no older."

Sir William Killigrew, Knt., who was loyal to Charles I, and stood
high in favour with Charles II, usher of the privy chamber and
vice-chamberlain to the Queen, also wrote plays, tragi-comedies, but
they do not appear to have taken with the public.

But the man who was most stage-stricken of the family was Thomas, the
fourth son of Sir Robert Killigrew, born in 1611. He became early in
life page of honour to Charles I, and he attended Charles II when in
exile. At this period, when Charles was sorely in need of money,
Thomas Killigrew was despatched as "Resident" to Venice, in 1652, "to
borrow money of English merchants for his (Charles's) owne
subsistence," and "to press the Duke to furnish Us with a present some
(sum) of money and we will engage ourselves by any Act or Acts to
repay with interest, and so likewise for any Arms or Ammunition he
shall be pleased to furnish Us withall. The summe you shall move him
to furnish Us with shall be Ten thousand Pistolls."

[Illustration: _Thomas Killigrew Groome of y^e Bedchamber to King
Charles y^e Second_]

According to Hyde, Charles misdoubted the suitableness of Killigrew
for this delicate negotiation; and was finally prevailed to send him,
simply to gratify Tom.

The misgivings of the Prince were justified, for Killigrew and his
servants behaved so badly at Venice that the Doge, Francisco Erizzo,
had to complain through his ambassador.

Sir Edward Hyde, in a letter to Sir Richard Browne, wrote: "I have
informed the Kinge of the Venetian Ambassador's complainte against Mr.
Killigrew, with which His Majesty is very much troubled, and resolves
upon his returne hither to examyne his miscarriage, and to proceed
therein in such a manner as shall be worthy of him, and as may
manifest his respecte to that Commonwealth, with which the Crowne of
Englande hath alwayes held a very stricte amity, and His Majesty's
Ministers have in all places preserved a very good correspondence with
the Ministers of that State, and therefore His Majesty is more
sensible of this misdemeanour of his Resident."

On Killigrew's return to the Court of S. Germain, Sir John Denham
addressed him in these lines:--

                Our Resident Tom
                From Venice has come,
          And has left the Statesman behind him;
                Talks at the same pitch,
                Is as wise, is as rich,
          And just where you left him, you find him.

                But who says he is not
                A man of much plot,
          May repent of this false accusation;
                Having-plotted and penn'd
                Six plays to attend
          The Farce of his negotiation.

But although Charles might put on an appearance of being indignant,
and though he was vexed that Tom did not return laden with "pistolls,"
he was too careless and too fond of being entertained to part with his
principal buffoon. But thenceforth he employed him mainly in
transactions about wine, canary and sack, of which the Prince needed

The story is told of Louis XIV that he had heard much of the wit of
Tom Killigrew, and sent for him to Versailles, where he talked to him,
but could elicit nothing from him. Thinking that this proceeded from
shyness he drew him apart, and led him into the gallery to show him
the pictures. There he asked him if he knew what they represented. Tom
expressed his ignorance, whereupon the King led him before a painting
of the Crucifixion, and asked him what that represented. "I believe,
your Majesty," replied Tom, "that it is a picture of Christ between
two thieves."

"And who might they be?"

"Your Majesty and the Pope," replied the audacious jester.

The first wife of Thomas Killigrew was Cecilia, a daughter of Sir John
Crofts, of Saxham, in Suffolk, and he was married to her on June 29th,

The weather on the wedding day was rude and boisterous, which gave
rise to some lines by Thomas Carew:--

          "Such should this day be; so the sun should hide
          His bashful face, and let the conquering bride
          Without a rivall shine, whilst he forbears
          To mingle his unequall beams with hers;

          Or if sometime he glance his squinting eye
          Between the parting clouds, 'tis but to spye,
          Not emulate her glories; so comes drest
          In vayles, but as a masquer to the feast."

She brought her husband a fortune of £10,000, and a son and heir,
Henry, born in April, 1637. She was buried the 5th January, 1638, in
Westminster Abbey. Tom married again, when in exile, at the Hague, and
his second wife was Charlotte, daughter of John van Hesse, a Dutch
woman. The marriage took place 26th January, 1655, and by her he had
three sons, Robert, Charles, and Thomas.

At length came the recall of Charles to England, and Tom Killigrew
accompanied him in the same vessel, very lighthearted, and expectant
of great things. Pepys had gone over to meet the King, and he says,
May 24th, 1660: "Walking upon the decks, were persons of honour all
the afternoon, among others Thomas Killigrew, a merry droll, but a
gentleman of great esteem with the King, who told us many merry
stories." Among them one Pepys quotes, which is profane.

Thomas Killigrew was appointed Groom of the Bedchamber, with a salary
of £400 per annum, which he augmented by receiving bribes from those
who were solicitous to obtain posts under the Crown, and to use his
influence with the King to get them.

He had now an opportunity of producing on the London stage the plays
that he had composed whilst abroad. Of these there were eight, comedies
and tragi-comedies, all borrowed, none exhibiting any genuine wit, but
steeped in ordure. One, _The Parson's Wedding_, borrowed from _The
Antiquary_, by Shakerly Marmion, and _Raw Alley_, by Lord Barrey, was
actually to be performed wholly by women. It has been well said by Mr.
Tregellas: "We find ourselves indeed 'surrounded by foreheads of bronze,
hearts like the nether millstone, and tongues set on fire of hell.' I
must add that they have scarcely a sparkle of that witty wickedness
which one meets with in the writings of Sir Charles Sedley."

All Killigrew's plays were printed in folio in 1644. Pepys did not see
much merit in them. Of _The Parson's Wedding_ he says: "Luellin tells
me what an obscene, loose play this is, that is acted by nothing but
women, at the King's House." Of _Claracilla_, "a poor play." Of _Love
at First Sight_, "I find the play to be a poor thing, and so I
perceive every body else do." Nor did he think much of Killigrew's
conversation. He described it as "poor and frothy."

In _The Companion to the Playhouse_, 1764, there are some stories told
of Killigrew.

"After the Restoration he continued in high favour with the King, and
had frequently access to him when he was denied to the first peers of
the realm; and being a man of great wit and liveliness of parts, and
having from his long intimacy with that monarch, and being continually
about his person during his troubles, acquired a freedom of
familiarity with him, which even the pomp of Majesty afterwards could
not check in him, he sometimes, by way of jest, which King Charles was
ever fond of, if genuine, even tho' himself was the object of the
satire, would adventure bold truths which scarcely any one beside
would have dared even to hint to. One story in particular is related
of him, which, if true, is a strong proof of the great lengths he
would sometimes proceed in his freedoms of this kind, which is as
follows: When the King's unbounded passion for women had given his
mistress such an ascendancy over him, that, like the effeminate
Persian monarch, he was fitter to have handled a distaff than to wield
a sceptre, and for the conversation of his concubines utterly
neglected the most important affairs of state, Mr. Killigrew went to
pay his Majesty a visit in his private apartments, habited like a
pilgrim who was bent on a long journey. The King, surprised at the
oddity of his appearance, immediately asked him what was the meaning
of it, and whither he was going. '_To Hell_,' bluntly replied the man.
'Prithee,' said the King, 'what can your errand be to that place?' 'To
fetch back Oliver Cromwell,' rejoined he, 'that he may take some care
of the affairs of England, for his successor takes none at all.'"

This was not the only time that Killigrew gave good counsel to the
King. Pepys says: "Mr. Pierce did tell me as a great truth, as being
told by Mr. Cowley, who was by, and heard it, that Tom Killigrew
should publicly tell the King that his matters were coming into a very
ill state, and that yet there was a way to help all. Says he: 'There
is a good, honest, able man, that I could name, that, if your Majesty
would employ, and command to see all things well executed, all things
would soon be mended; and this one is Charles Stuart, who now spends
his time in employing his lips about the Court, and hath no other
employment, but if you would give him this employment, he were the
fittest man in the world to perform it.' This, he says, is most true;
but the King do not profit by any of this, but lays it aside, and
remembers nothing, but to his pleasures again."

On another occasion Killigrew is said to have placed under the
candlestick where Charles II supped, five small papers, on each of
which he had written the word ALL. The King on seeing them, asked what
he meant by these five words. "If your Majesty will grant my pardon,
I will tell you," was his reply. Pardon being promised, Killigrew
said: "The first ALL signified that the country had sent all it could
to the exchequer; the second, that the City had lent all it could and
would; the third, that the Court had spent all; the fourth, that if we
did not mend all; the fifth would be the worse for all."

This was afterwards adapted and turned upon the family of William of
Orange: "That he was William Think-all; his queen Mary Take-all;
Prince George of Denmark, George Drink-all; and Princess Anne, Anne

Although Thomas Killigrew went by the designation of the King's
Jester, he held no official position as such.

"Mr. Cooling told us how the King, once speaking of the Duke of York's
being mastered by his wife, said to some of the company, by that he
would go no more abroad with this Tom Otter (a hen-pecked husband in
Ben Jonson's _Epicæne_), meaning the Duke of York and his wife. Tom
Killigrew, being by, said, 'Sir, pray which is the best, for a man to
be a Tom Otter to his wife or to his mistress?' meaning the King's
being so to my Lady Castlemaine."

Killigrew was engaged one morning with one of his own plays, which he
took up in the window, whilst His Majesty was shaving. "Ah,
Killigrew," asked the King, "what will you say at the Last Day in
defence of the idle words in that book?" To which Tom replied, that he
could give a better account of his "idle words," than the King would
be able to give respecting his "idle promises and more idle patents,
that had undone more than ever did his books."

"One more story is related of him, which is not barren of humour. King
Charles's fondness for pleasure, to which he almost always made
business give way, used frequently to delay affairs of consequence,
from His Majesty's disappointing the Council of his presence when met
for dispatch of business, which neglect gave great disgust and offence
to many of those who were treated with this seeming disrespect. On one
of these occasions the Duke of Lauderdale, who was naturally impetuous
and turbulent, quitted the council-chamber in a violent passion, and,
meeting Mr. Killigrew presently after, expressed himself on the
occasion in very disrespectful terms of His Majesty. Killigrew begged
His Grace to moderate his passion, and offered to lay him a wager of a
hundred pounds that he himself would prevail on His Majesty to come to
the council within half an hour. The Duke, surprised at the boldness
of the assertion, and warmed by his resentment against the King,
accepted the wager, on which Killigrew immediately went to the King,
and without ceremony told him what had happened, adding these words:
'I knew that Your Majesty hated Lauderdale, though the necessity of
your affairs compels you to carry an outward appearance of civility;
now, if you choose to be rid of a man who is thus disagreeable to you,
you need only go this once to council, for I know his covetous
disposition so perfectly, that I am well persuaded, rather than pay
this hundred pounds, he would hang himself out of the way, and never
plague you more.'

"The King was so pleased with the archness of the observation, that he
immediately replied, 'Well, then, Killigrew, I positively will go.'
And kept his word accordingly."

Pepys has a good deal to say about Killigrew. He tells how Killigrew
became enamoured of the stage when a boy. "He would go to the 'Red
Bull,' and when the man cried to the boys, 'Who will go and be a
devil, and he shall see the play for nothing?' then would he go in,
and be a devil upon the stage, and so get to see plays."

2nd August, 1664. "To the King's playhouse, and there saw _Bartholomew
Fayre_, which do still please me, and is, as it is acted, the best
comedy in the world, I believe. I chanced to sit by Tom Killigrew, who
tells me that he is setting up a nursery (for actors), that is, is
going to build a house in Moorefields, wherein he will have common
plays acted."

12th February, 1666-7. "With my Lord Bronnaker by coach to his house,
there to hear some Italian musique, and there we met Tom Killigrew, Sir
Robert Murray, and the Italian, Signor Baptista, who hath proposed a
play in Italian for the Opera, which T. Killigrew do intend to have up."

Thomas Killigrew was nearly sixty years old when he narrowly escaped
assassination in S. James's Park. He had been carrying on an intrigue
with Lady Shrewsbury, but found a dangerous and more successful rival in
the Duke of Buckingham. Whereupon in spite and revenge he poured over
the lady a stream of foul and venomous satire. The result was that one
evening, on his return from the Duke of York's, some ruffians, hired for
the purpose, set upon Tom's chair, through which they passed their
swords three times, wounding him in the arm. The assassins then fled,
having killed his man, and believing they had killed Tom Killigrew.

He recovered from his wound, lived on thirteen or fourteen years
longer, and was buried in Westminster Abbey on 19th March, 1682-3.

His son Thomas was a playwright, and his son Charles proprietor of
"the Playhouse, Drury Lane."

The Killigrews have now passed, not individually only, but as a family
off the stage of life, and are remembered only by their deeds, good
and bad, as recorded in history. It was usually said of Tom Killigrew
that when he attempted to write he was dull, whereas in conversation
he was smart; and this was precisely the reverse of Cowley, who did
not shine in conversation, but sparkled with his pen. In allusion to
this Denham wrote:--

          Had Cowley ne'er spoken, and Killigrew ne'er writ,
          Combin'd in one, they'd make a matchless wit.

                           NICOLAS ROSCARROCK

Nicolas Roscarrock was the fifth son of Richard Roscarrock, of
Roscarrock, in S. Endelion, by Isabell, daughter of Richard Trevenor.
His grandmother was a Boscawen. His father during his lifetime had
settled upon him the estates of Penhall, Carbura, and Newtown, in the
parishes of S. Cleer and S. Germans.

He first studied at Exeter College, Oxford, and took his B.A. in 1568.
Carew, in his _Survey of Cornwall_, p. 299, tells us of "his
industrious delight in matters of history and antiquity."

In 1577 Roscarrock was admitted student of the Inner Temple. In the
same year was published by Richard Tottell _The Worthies of Armorie
... collected and gathered by John Bossewell_, to which were prefixed
ninety-four verses, entitled _Cilenus, Censur of the Author of his
High Court of Herehautry_, by Nicolas Roscarrocke.

In the Inner Temple he seems to have been associated with Raleigh, for
in 1576 appeared _The Steepleglas, a satyre_, and among commendatory
verses are some signed "N. R." and the rest by "Walter Rawely of the
Inner Temple."

In 1577 he was in Cornwall, where he suffered much annoyance because of
his faith, as he refused to conform to the English liturgy, and
maintained the Papal supremacy. It was in 1570 that Pope Pius V had
issued a bull of excommunication against Elizabeth, deprived her of her
title to the crown, and absolved her subjects from their oaths of
allegiance. This violent and ill-judged proceeding at once converted all
those who held by the Pope into suspected traitors; and measures were
adopted against them, the more so as the Jesuits and their agents were
more than suspected of forming plots for the assassination of the Queen.

Nicolas Roscarrock was accused at Launceston Assizes on September
16th, 1577, "for not going to church." He was in London later, and was
an active member of the "Young Men's Club," 1579-81.

From the _State Papers_, 1547-50, we learn that two spies were
employed by the Government to discover Nicolas Roscarrock. He had,
however, probably fled to Douay, where a Roscarrock is entered in the
_Douay Diary_ as landing on September, 1580.

But he was again in England in 1581, when he was sent to the Tower,
where by a refinement of cruelty he was placed in a cell adjoining
that of a friend who had been racked, that the moans of the latter
might intimidate Roscarrock into giving evidence of plots against the
life of the Queen. On January 14th, 1581, Nicolas was himself tortured
on the rack. He remained for five years in prison in the Tower, and in
the Fleet again till 1594, in all fourteen years.

He was finally released, and went in 1607 north to Naworth to Lord
William Howard, with whom he remained till his death, which took place
in 1633 or 1634, when he had reached an advanced age.

Such in brief is the history of Nicolas Roscarrock.

Whilst he was at Naworth, he occupied himself in compiling a volume of
the _Lives of the English Saints_.

The first part he wrote with his own hand, but as his sight failed, he
was obliged to employ an amanuensis, who wrote very untidily and made
strange havoc of many of the names, which he wrote phonetically from
dictation. The MS. has undergone annotation by two hands: one was
Roscarrock himself, who added in matters which reached him later; the
other was Dom Gregory Hungate, a Benedictine.

As far as can be judged, the MS. was compiled between 1610 and 1625.[32]

After the dispersion of Lord William Howard's library, we do not know
what became of the book till about 1700, when it formed a portion of a
library bequeathed to Brent Eleigh parish, in Suffolk, by a certain Mr.
Edward Colman, sometime of Trinity College, Cambridge. Here it seems to
have undergone rough usage, and it was probably there that the MS. lost
so many pages torn out. As it is, it consists of no fewer than 850
pages; folio 253 is missing, also some pages from the beginning and
something like ninety at the end that have been torn out.

At the sale of the Brent Eleigh Library, the MS. was purchased by the
University Library managers, Cambridge, and it is now in that library
(Add. MS. 3041).

It is a thick volume, measuring 1 ft. by 8-1/4 in.

It possesses an Introduction, "How Saynts may be esteemed soe,
Secondlye of their Commemorations and the trewest enfalliblest manner
of discovering them, and what Course the Collector of this Alphebitt
of Saints that he observed in this Collection." Then follows an
article on the Canonizing of Saints, and another "Of the Course and
Order which is to be observed in my Collection." Then ensues a
Calendar, and this is followed by an alphabetical biographical notice
of the saints to Simon Sudbury, where the rest is torn away.

Nicolas Roscarrock had recourse mainly to printed authorities, to
Capgrave, Surius, Harpsfield, and to Whytford's _Martyrologie_. But he
had also access to the MSS. of Edward Powell, a Welsh priest, who had
a considerable collection of Welsh saintly pedigrees. With regard to
the Cornish saints, he records current traditions of his time, that he
had collected in his youth. But he had also a MS. Cornish life of S.
Columba, to which Hals refers. Unhappily, he has not given us the
original, only its substance. And he quotes from a Cornish hymn or
ballad relative to S. Mabenna, but which to our great regret he does
not give. Here and there he indulges in verses of his own composition
in honour of the saints, but they are of no poetic merit.

In the volume is a letter undated, addressed by one W. Webbe to--we
suppose--the chaplain at Naworth. It is as follows:--

    "Most Worthy Syr,

    "Mr. Trewenna Roscarrock found in the library of Oxford a story of
    a certain Christian and his wife who came out of Ireland with
    their children to fly the persecution, and lived in Cornwall: and
    after some tyme both he and his wife with the children suffered
    martyrdom in Cornwall, and in their honour were faire Churches
    dedicated. Some of the names of these saints (as wee suppose) wear
    these as follow:--

    "S. Essye, S. Milior, S. Que, S. Einendar, S. Eue, S. Maubon, S.
    Breage, S. Earvin, S. Merrine, &c.

    "They were about 20 at the least; the story at large, Mr.
    Roscarrock's Book, and keeping noe coppy of it lent it to his
    brother, Mr. Nicolas Roscarocke, who lived and dyed at my Lord
    William Hoard's House in y^e North.

    "Now some worthye Catholickes of Cornwall being desirous to
    understand the full story, to the end they may the better honour
    these Saynts of their County, besought me to write unto the North
    about this, and get out of Mr. Nicolas Roscarocke's writings this
    story, they knowing that he was wont to compile together such
    monuments for further memorye. I did soe and I was assured by a
    good Gentleman a friend of mine, and who actually lives with the
    house, that Sir William Hoard, my Lord William's son, had Mr.
    Nicolas Roscarock's written booke, and papers, and that he would
    most willingly pleasure my Countrymen in this holy desire of
    theirs--Wherefore Worthy Syr I shall humble intreate you for God's
    sake, and for the honours of these glorious [sai[33]]nts martyrs,
    to deale efficaciously with Syr William Hoard [to obta]ine a copy
    of this story for all our comforts and wee [shall be al]wayes
    obleidged to pray for you and Syr William [both in] this worlde
    and in the next.

                                   "Your servant to his honor,
                                                         "H. WEBBE."


[32] Authorities for his life: Ormsby, _The Household Books of Lord
William Howard_, Surtees Soc., 1878, pp. 506 _et seq._; Gildew's
_Biographical Dictionary of English Catholics; Jesuits in Conflict_,
1873, p. 206; the _Douay Diaries_, ed. Knox; Boase and Courtney's
_Bibliographia Cornubiensis; Notes and Queries_, 5th series, IV, 402-4
(1875); Morris, _Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers_, 1st series,
1872, p. 95, 2nd series, 1875, pp. 33, 79-80; Challoner's _Memoirs of
Missionary Priests_, p. 32; _Dict. of National Biography_, _State
Papers_, etc.; an admirable and exhaustive Life in MS. by Rev. E. Nolan,
Trinity College, Cambridge, in the University Library, Cambridge.

[33] A corner of the letter is torn off, but it is easy to supply the
missing portions of the words and sentences.

                       LIEUTENANT PHILIP G. KING

The Commissioners of His Majesty's Navy, near the close of 1786,
advertised for a certain number of vessels to be taken up for the
purpose of conveying between seven and eight hundred male and female
convicts to Botany Bay, in New South Wales, whither it had been
determined by the Government to transport them, after having sought in
vain upon the African coast for a situation possessing the requisites
for the establishment of a penal colony. The following vessels were at
length contracted for, and assembled in the Thames to fit and take in
stores: the _Alexander_, _Scarborough_, _Charlotte_, _Lady Penrhyn_,
and _Friendship_ as transports; and the _Fishbourne_, _Golden Grove_,
and _Borrowdale_--these latter as storeships. The _Prince of Wales_
was afterwards added to the number of transports. The transports
immediately prepared for the reception of the convicts, and the
storeships took on board provisions for two years, with tools,
implements of agriculture, seeds, etc.

On October 24th Captain Arthur Phillips hoisted a pennant on board
H.M.S. _Sirius_, of twenty guns, then lying at Deptford. As the
government of the meditated colony, as well as the command of the
_Sirius_, was given to Captain Phillips, it was thought necessary to
appoint another captain to her, who might command on any service in
which she might be employed for the colony, while Captain Phillips
would be engaged supervising the convicts on shore. For this purpose
John Hunter was nominated second captain of the _Sirius_.

On March 5th, 1787, order for embarkation arrived, and on Monday, May
7th, Captain Phillips arrived at Portsmouth and took command of the
little fleet, then lying at the Mother Bank.

Phillips had with him two lieutenants, Philip Gidley King and Mr. Dawes.

Philip G. King was the son of Philip King, a draper in Launceston, by
his wife, the daughter of John Gidley, attorney, of Exeter. Philip G.
King was born at Launceston 23rd April, 1758. He was midshipman on board
the _Swallow_ in 1770-5, and now was placed under Captain Phillips to
assist in the settlement of felons in a colony at Botany Bay.

Whilst the little fleet was on its way down the Channel, it was
discovered that a plot had been formed among the convicts on board the
_Scarborough_ to mutiny. They hoped to obtain command of the vessel,
when those in the other transports would follow their example, and
they trusted that the entire fleet would fall into their power. The
scheme was insane, as H.M.S. _Sirius_ could knock the transports to
pieces with her guns. The plot was betrayed by one of the convicts to
the commanding officer on board the _Scarborough_, and he at once
communicated with Captain Phillips. The two ringleaders were brought
on board the _Sirius_, and each was given two dozen lashes.

The fleet sailed for Teneriffe, and thence, on the 11th June, for Rio
de Janeiro; and from thence for the Cape of Good Hope.

On November 10th, Captain Phillips sailed ahead of the fleet in the
_Supply_ to reconnoitre the coast of New South Wales, and ascertain
where best to land, and he took with him the _Alexander_, the
_Scarborough_, and the _Friendship_, and having on board his two
lieutenants, King and Dawes.


On January 19th, 1788, he landed in Botany Bay, and sent Lieutenant
King to survey the coast and inland as far as might be.

Botany Bay being found to be a station of inferior advantages to what
was expected, and no spot appearing proper for the colony, Governor
Phillips at once resolved to transfer it to another excellent inlet,
about twelve miles further to the north, called Port Jackson, on the
south side of which, at a spot called Sydney Cove, the settlement was
decided to be made.

The spot chosen for this purpose was at the head of the cove, near a
run of fresh water, which stole silently along through a very thick
wood, the stillness of which had thus, for the first time since the
Creation, been interrupted by the rude sound of the labourer's axe and
the downfall of the ancient inhabitants--a stillness and tranquillity
which from that day were to give place to the noise of labour, the
confusion of carriers, and all the clamour of the bringing on shore of
the stores, and the erection of habitations.

A flagstaff was set up and the Union Jack hoisted, when the Marines
fired several volleys, and the healths of the King and Royal Family
were drunk, as well as success to the new colony.

The disembarkation of the troops and convicts took place on the
following day.

The confusion that ensued will not be wondered at when it is
considered that every man stepped from his boat literally into a
virgin forest. Parties of people were to be seen on all sides
variously employed, some in clearing ground for the different
encampments, others in pitching tents, or bringing up such stores as
were more immediately needed. As the woods were opened and the ground
cleared, the various encampments were extended, and all gradually
assumed the appearance of regularity.

A portable canvas house, brought over for the governor, was erected on
the south side of the cove, which was named Sydney, in compliment to
the principal Secretary of State for the Home Department. There also a
small body of convicts was put under tents. The detachment of marines
was encamped at the head of the cove near the stream, and on the west
side was planted the main body of convicts.

The women were not disembarked till the 6th February, when, every person
belonging to the settlement being landed, the whole amounted to 1030
persons. The tents for the sick were placed on the west side, and it was
observed with concern that their number was fast increasing. Scurvy,
that had not appeared during the voyage, now broke out, and this, along
with dysentery, began to fill the hospital, and several died.

In addition to the medicines that were administered, every species of
esculent plant that could be found in the country was procured for
them--wild celery, spinach, and parsley fortunately grew in abundance.
Those who were in health, as well as the sick, were glad to introduce
this wholesome addition to their ration of salt meat.

The public stock, consisting of one bull, four cows, one bull-calf,
one stallion, three mares, and three colts, were landed and left to
crop the pasturage of the little farm that had been formed at the head
of an adjoining cove, and which had been placed under the direction of
a man brought out for the purpose by the Governor.

Some ground having been dug over and prepared near His Excellency's
house on the south side, the plants brought from Rio de Janeiro and
from the Cape were planted, and the colonists soon had the
satisfaction of seeing the grapes, figs, oranges, pears, and
apples--in a word, the best fruits of the Old World--taking root and
establishing themselves in this their New World.

As soon as the hurry and turmoil of disembarkation had subsided, the
Governor caused His Majesty's commission appointing him to be
Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of New South Wales and its
dependencies, to be publicly read, and he then addressed the convicts,
assuring them that "he would be ever ready to show approbation and
encouragement to those who proved themselves worthy of them by good
conduct and attention to orders; while, on the other hand, such as were
determined to act in opposition to propriety, and observe a contrary
conduct, would inevitably meet with the punishment they deserved."

The convicts from the first gave much trouble. They secreted the tools,
so as to avoid being compelled to work, and it was found almost
impossible to get work out of them, as there was a deficiency of proper
men to set over them. Those who were so placed were for the most part
also convicts, men who by their conduct during the voyage had
recommended themselves, and these had been appointed foremen over the
rest, but it was soon discovered that they lacked the authority
requisite. The sailors from the transports, though repeatedly forbidden
to do so and frequently punished, persisted in bringing spirits on shore
every night, and drunkenness was often the consequence.

Before the month of February was half through, a plot among the convicts
to rob the store was discovered. This was the more unpardonable in that
the rations given out to the convicts were precisely the same as those
served to the soldiers. Each male convict received as his weekly
portion 7 lb. biscuits, 1 lb. flour, 7 lb. beef, 4 lb. pork, 3 pints of
peas, 6 oz. of butter; the women received one-third less.

The ringleaders were charged before a Court that was summoned. One was
hanged, another reprieved on condition of becoming the public
executioner; the rest had milder sentences.

The Governor having received instructions to establish another
settlement on Norfolk Island, the _Supply_ sailed for that place in
the midst of February under the command of Lieutenant King of the
_Sirius_, named by Captain Phillips superintendent and commandant of
the settlement to be formed there. Lieutenant King took with him one
surgeon, one petty officer, two private soldiers, two persons who
pretended to have some knowledge of flax-dressing, and nine male and
six female convicts. This little party was to be landed with tents,
clothing, implements of husbandry, tools for dressing flax, etc., and
provisions for six months, before the expiration of which time it was
intended to send them a fresh supply.

Norfolk Island was to be settled with a view to the cultivation of
flax, which at the time when the island was discovered by Captain Cook
was found growing most luxuriantly where he had landed; this was the
_Phormi tenax_, New Zealand flax.

Mr. King, previous to his departure for the new settlement, was sworn
in as a Justice of Peace, and was empowered to punish such petty
offences as might be committed among the settlers; capital crime being
reserved for the cognizance of the Criminal Court of Judicature,
established at Sydney by Governor Phillips.

The _Supply_ reached Norfolk Island on February 29th, but for five
succeeding days was not able to effect a landing, being prevented by
a surf that was breaking with violence on a reef that lay across the
principal bay. Lieutenant King had nearly given up all hopes of being
able to land, when a small opening was discovered in the reef wide
enough to admit a boat. Through this he succeeded in passing safely,
along with his people and stores. When landed, he could nowhere find a
space clear for pitching a tent, and he had to cut through an almost
impenetrable jungle before he could encamp himself and his people.

Of the stock he carried with him, he lost the only she-goat he had,
and one ewe. He had named the bay wherein he landed and planted his
settlement, Sydney; and had given the names of Phillip and Nepean to
two small islands situated at a small distance from it.

The soil of Norfolk Island was ascertained to be very rich, but Sydney
Bay was exposed to the southerly winds, which drove the surf furiously
over the reef. The _Supply_ lost one of her hands, who was drowned in
attempting to pass through the reef. There was a small bay on the
further side of the island, but it was at a considerable distance from
the settlement.

On February 14th, 1789, Lieutenant Ball sailed for Norfolk Island in
the _Golden Grove_ with provisions and convicts, twenty-one male, six
female convicts, and three children; of the latter two were to be
placed under Lieutenant King's special care. They were of different
sexes; the boy, Parkinson, was about three years of age, and had lost
his mother on the voyage to Botany Bay; the girl was a year older and
had a mother in the colony, but as she was a woman of abandoned
character, the child was taken from her, to save it from the ruin
which otherwise would inevitably have befallen it. These children were
to be instructed in reading, writing, and husbandry. The Commandant
was directed to cause five acres of ground to be allotted and
cultivated for their benefit.

In March, the little colony in Norfolk Island was threatened with an
insurrection. The convicts plotted the capture of the island and the
seizure of Mr. King's person. They had chosen the day when this was to
be effected, the first Saturday after the arrival of any ship in the
bay, except the _Sirius_. They had selected this day, as it had for
some time been Mr. King's custom on Saturdays to visit a farm he had
established at a little distance from the settlement, and the military
generally chose that day for bringing in the cabbage-palm from the
woods. Mr. King was to be secured on his way to the farm. A message,
in the Commandant's name, was to be sent to Mr. Jamison, the surgeon,
who was to be seized as soon as he got into the woods; and the
sergeant and the party of soldiers were to be treated in the same
manner. These being all properly disposed of, a signal was to be made
to the ship in the bay to send her boat on shore, the crew of which
were to be made prisoners on landing; and two or three of the
insurgents were to go off in a boat belonging to the island, and
inform the commanding officer that the ship's boat had been stove on
the beach, and that the Commandant, King, requested that another might
be sent on shore. This also was to be captured; and then, as the last
act in this plot, the ship was to be taken, in which they designed to
proceed to Otaheite, and there establish a colony.

The plot was revealed to a seaman of the _Sirius_, who lived with Mr.
King as a gardener, by a female convict who cohabited with him. On
being acquainted with the circumstances, the Commandant took such
measures as appeared to him necessary to defeat the object of the
plotters; and several who were concerned in the scheme were arrested
and confessed the share they were to have had in the execution of it.

Mr. King had hitherto, from the peculiarity of his situation--secluded
from society, and confined to a small speck in the vast ocean, with
but a handful of people--drawn them around him, and had treated them
in a kindly and even confidential and affectionate manner; but now he
saw that these felons were too ingrained with vice to appreciate such
treatment, and one of his first steps was to clear the ground as far
as was possible round the settlement, that future villainy might not
find a shelter in the woods. To this truly providential circumstance
many of the colonists were afterwards indebted for their lives in an
outbreak that took place after he had quitted the island.

At this time there were on the island 16 free people, 51 male and 23
female convicts, and 4 children.

In June, 1789, Lieutenant Creswell was sent with 14 privates of the
Marines to Norfolk Island, and with a written order from His
Excellency requiring Creswell to take upon himself the direction and
execution of the authority invested in Lieutenant King, in the event
of any accident happening to the latter.

In March, 1790, 116 male and 68 female convicts were sent to Norfolk
Island and 27 children. Major Ross was appointed to supersede King;
both the _Sirius_ and the _Supply_ arrived, but unhappily the former
ran upon the reef on the 19th April. All the officers and people were
saved, being dragged on shore through the surf on a grating.

King returned to New South Wales in the _Supply_. There had been
disaster and distress in the colony there. The sheep had been stolen and
the cattle lost in the woods, and these were not found till 1795, after
they had been lost for seven years, and they were then found grazing on
a remote clearing, and had increased to a surprising degree.

It was now determined that Lieutenant King should return to England
and report progress. A Dutch vessel was hired to take him and the
officers and men of the _Sirius_ home. He sailed in the _Batavia_ in
April, 1790, and arrived in England December 20th, 1790.

Philip Gidley King was appointed Governor of New South Wales,
September, 1800, and held that appointment till 15th August, 1806,
when his health failing he returned to England, and died at Lower
Tooting, Surrey, 3rd September, 1808.

He was the father of Rear-Admiral Philip Parker King, who was born on
Norfolk Island, 13th December, 1791, after his father had left for
England. He entered the Royal Navy as first-class volunteer in 1807,
midshipman in 1809, lieutenant in 1814. He married Harriet, daughter
of Christopher Lethbridge, of Launceston, and died at Sydney 25th
February, 1856, and was buried at Parramatta beside his mother, who
had been laid there many years before, not having come to England.
There is no record as to who and what she was.

For information relative to Philip Gidley King his Diary may be
consulted in John Hunter's _Historical Journal of the Transactions at
Port Jackson and Norfolk Island_, 1795; see also David Collins's
_Account of the English Colony of New South Wales_, 1798-1802.

                            HICKS OF BODMIN

William Robert Hicks was born at Bodmin on 1st April, 1808--not to be an
April fool himself, but to be a right merry jester, and not infrequently
to make fools of others. He was the son of a schoolmaster, and he, Sir
William Molesworth, of Pencarrow, and Colonel Hamley were educated
together for a while in the school of his father.

William Robert became Clerk of the Board of Guardians, Clerk of the
Highway Board, and Governor of the County Lunatic Asylum. He was a man
of many parts, a good mathematician, a clear-headed and cool man of
business, a musician, who could play on the violin and play it well.
But he was noted above everything else as a humorist.

He was a short man and inordinately stout, weighing sixteen stone. He
had a broad, flexible, somewhat flabby face, with a pair of twinkling
grey eyes, a short nose, somewhat protruding thick under lip, and
double chin that was very pronounced, and whiskers. What was
noticeable in Hicks's face was its flexibility. He possessed the art
and the power to tell his story with his countenance as with his
voice. Indeed, the alterations of mood in his face were like a musical
accompaniment to a song. He was thought the best story-teller of his
day; was known as such in Cornwall and Devon, but was not so well
appreciated in London, where the peculiar dry humour of the West, as
well as the dialect, did not appeal to ordinary hearers as they do in
the two Western Counties. One of his many Cornish friends once took
Hicks up to town and dined him at his club, thinking that he would
keep the table in a roar. But it was not so. His stories fell somewhat
flat, and that damped his spirits and he subsided.

One of Hicks's earliest and best friends was George Wightwick, the
architect, born at Mold in Flintshire in 1802, who set up as architect
in Plymouth in 1829, and was employed to build additions to Bodmin
Gaol in 1842 and 1847. He was author of _The Palace of Architecture_,
published in 1840. And though he was an excellent _raconteur_, second
only to Hicks, he was a most egregiously bad architect. Yet, strangely
enough, Mr. Wightwick supposed himself to be enlightened in the matter
of Gothic architecture, and in 1835 published in _Loudon's
Architectural Magazine_ "A few observations on reviving taste for
pointed Architecture, with an illustrated description of a chapel just
erected at Bude Haven under the direction of the author."

Wightwick it was who had the merit of discovering Hicks and of
introducing him to notables in Devon and Cornwall, for, miserable
architect though he was, he had got the ear of the public in the West
as a man of charming manners and teeming with anecdote. Through him
Hicks obtained access into many a country house, where they would
sing, accompanying themselves on the violin, and tell stories.

Hicks was made Governor of Bodmin Asylum in 1848, and found the old
barbarous system of treatment of the insane in full swing. He at once
adopted gentle methods and in a short while radically changed the
entire mode of treatment, with markedly good results.

[Illustration: WILLIAM R. HICKS]

One poor fellow, whom he found chained in a dark cell on a bed of straw
as a dangerous lunatic, he nearly cured by kindly treatment. As the
fellow showed indications of great shrewdness and wit, Hicks released
him and made much of him. A gentleman on a visit to the asylum once said
to the lunatic, "I hear, man, that you are Hicks's fool."

"Aw," replied he; "I zee you do your awn business in that line."

He was once asked, "Whither does this path go, my man?" He answered
readily, "Zure I cannot tell 'ee. I've knawed un bide here these last
twenty year."

He was sitting on the high wall of the asylum that commanded the road
for some distance, with a turnpike at the bottom of the hill. The
company of a circus passed by, with the various horses. As the manager
rode past, the lunatic said to him, "'Ow much might 'ee pay turnpike
for they there spekkady hosses?" "Oh," said the manager, "the same as
for the others." "Do 'ee now?" said the man on the wall. "Well to be
zure; my vather 'ad a spekkady hoss that never paid no turnpike. They
there sparky (speckled) hosses don't pay no turnpikes here."

"Bless my life," said the manager; "I am much obliged to you for
informing me of the fact. So, sir, I am to understand that piebald
horses are exempt from paying at the toll-gate?"

"What I zed I bides by. They there spekkady hosses never pay no
turnpikes here in Cornwall. What they may do elsewhere, I can't zay."

The lunatic watched the cavalcade proceed down the hill, and when it
reached the turnpike, he enjoyed watching a lively altercation going
on between the toll-taker and the manager. Presently the latter came
galloping back, very hot and angry.

"What do you mean by telling me that in Cornwall piebald horses pay no

"Right it is so--cos _you_ have to pay it vor 'un," said the man and
stepped out of reach inside the wall.

One day this same man was put to watch a raving maniac, who, for his
own safety, when the fit was on him, used to be put in a padded room.
There was an eyehole in the door, and the lunatic, whom Mr. Collier
calls Daniel, was set to watch him. The poor wretch in his ravings
called, "Bring down the baggonets! Oh, marcy on me! Forty thousand
Roosians! Oh! oh! oh! I wish I was in Abraham's bosom," and began to
kick and plunge furiously. On which Daniel shouted to him through the
hole, "Why I tell'ee if you was, you'd kick the guts out of 'un."

Daniel came from Tavistock, where he used to walk out with a girl. As
he told the story himself--"I was keepin' company with a maid, and I
went to the parson. Says I to he, 'I want you, however, to promise me
wan thing,' says I. 'What is it?' says he. 'I want you to promise me,'
says I, 'never to marry me to thickee there maid when I be drunk.' He
zaid he'd promise me that, quite sure. 'Thankee, your honour,' said I;
'then I'm all right, for I'll take damned good care you never do it
when I'm zober.'"

Daniel was then in the Volunteers and was out on Whitchurch Down in a
review. An officer rode up to the bugler, and said "Sound a retreat!"
The bugler tried, but could produce no sound. "Sound a retreat!" roared
the officer. Again the bugle would not speak. "Sound a retreat!" shouted
the officer for the third time. "Don't you see that the cavalry are
charging down on us?" "There now, I can't," replied the bugler; "for
why? I've gone and spit my quid of terbaccer in the mouthpiece o'un."

Hicks no doubt was quite justified in picking up and appropriating to
himself stories wherever he could find them and from whomsoever he
heard them. A common friend of ours was with him one day in Plymouth,
and as they sat on the Hoe my friend told Hicks a couple of racy
anecdotes about his own work.

That evening both dined with Lord Mount Edgcumbe, and Hicks told both
these stories with immense humour, as though they had happened
recently--the previous week--to himself.

And certainly some of Hicks's stories are very old chestnuts.

This, for instance, was told by Hicks as having to his knowledge
occurred to two brothers, Jemmy and Sammy, in the Jamaica Inn, on the
Bodmin Moors, between that town and Launceston.

They were to sleep in a double-bedded room, and they dined and drank
pretty freely--the Jamaica Inn is now a temperance house--and went to
bed. Before retiring to rest one of them put out the light.

After they had been in bed a little while Jemmy said, "I say, Sammy,
there be a feller in my bed."

_Sammy_--"So there be in mine."

_Jemmy_--"What shall you do, Sammy?"

_Sammy_--"Kick 'un out."

_Jemmy_--"So shall I."

So they both proceeded to kick furiously, with the result that each
fell out on the opposite side of the bed. By mistake in the dark the
last to put out the light and go to bed had entered his brother's bed.

I have heard the same tale told of the Yorkshire moors some thirty to
forty years ago.

The famous story of Rabbits and Onions, that Hicks would tell in such
a way as to bring the tears rolling down the cheeks with laughter, may
or may not be founded on fact, or it may be--and that is probably the
case--a condensation into one tale of a good deal of experience with
juries. But the same story is told by Rosegger of a trial in Styria.

The following is almost certainly genuine. Anyhow, it is an excellent
example of the way in which Hicks could put a story.

"I met a man [name given] in Bodmin, and said to him, 'You are not
looking well. What is the matter?'

"The man replied that he had spent an indifferent night.

"'How is that?' I inquired.

"'I sleep with father,' he replied; 'and I woke up all in the dead
waste and middle of the night, and I reached forth my hand and
couldn't feel nothing; so I ses, ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old
aged tender parent?" I got out of bed and strick a light, all in the
dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched the room; sarched
under the bed and in the cupboards; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor
dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down over the stairs, all in the dead waste and middle of the
night, and sarched under the stairs and in the kitchen; and ses I,
"Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'Then I went to the coal-hole, all in the dead waste and middle of
the night, and sarched all about; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear
old aged tender parent?"

"'And I went down into the garden, all in the dead waste and middle of
the night; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down to the parzley bed, all in the dead waste and middle of
the night, and there I found 'un. He'd a cut his throat with the
rape(ing)-hook. I took 'un by the hair of his head, and I zaid, ses I,
"You darned old grizzley blackguard, you've brought disgrace on the
family." I brought 'un in, and laid 'un on the table, and rinned for the
doctor; and he zewed up the throt o'un avore the vital spark was
'xtinct. Zo you zee, Mr. Hicks, I've had rather an indiffer'nt night.'"

Here is another of Hicks's stories:--

A young curate was teaching some boys in the Sunday-school, and was
impressing on them the duties to their parents.

"What do you owe your mother, Bill Lemon?"

"I don't owe her nothin'! her never lent me nothin'."

"But she takes care of you."

The boy stared.

"What does she do for you?"

"Her gives me a skat in the vace sometimes, and tells me to go
to"----(curate intervenes).

"That is not what I mean. When you are sick, what does she do?"

"Wipes it op."

Hicks, as already intimated, was a very short man, very rotund about
the belly. Following the Mayor of Bodmin into the room on the occasion
of a public dinner, he heard the Mayor announced in a voice of
thunder, "The Mayor of Bodmin." Following directly after he intimated
to the butler "and the Corporation." The man, without a moment's
consideration, roared out, "and the Corporation."

A man of Hicks's acquaintance--every man of whom he had a story to tell
was an acquaintance--made a bet that he would drink a certain number of
gallons of cider in a given time. The trial of the feat came off, and
the man was reduced to the last stage of helplessness, in an armchair,
his head resting on the back of the chair, his mouth open, utterly
unable to proceed, when he sighed out to his backers, "Try the taypot!"
The spout was used to pour down the liquor and the bet was won.

Hicks had a story of a farmer whom he knew intimately, and who had
been canvassed for the approaching election, and had promised his vote
to the lady of the candidate. Said she, "Dear Mr. Polkinghorne, when
you come up to town, do come and see us, come any time--come to
dinner. You are sure to be welcome."

Now, as it so fell out, Zechariah Polkinghorne did go to London on
some business, and in the evening, when his work was over, he called
at the member's house. As it happened that evening, a dinner party was
given. When his name was taken up, the member's wife said: "Good
gracious! What is to be done? We must, I suppose, have him in, or he
will be mortally offended, and next election will not only vote
against us, but influence a good many more voters."

So Mr. Polkinghorne was shown up into a room full of ladies and
gentlemen in evening dress, and felt somewhat out of it. Presently
dinner was announced and he went in with the rest and took his place
at the table.

"So sorry, Mr. Polkinghorne," said the lady of the house; "so sorry we
have no partner for you to take in; but, you see, you came
unexpectedly, and we had not time to invite a lady for you."

"Never mind, ma'am, never mind. It doth remind me o' my old sow to
home. Her had thirteen little piglings--zuckers--for a brood, and pore
thing had only twelve little contrivances for them to zuck to."

"What did the thirteenth do then, Mr. Polkinghorne?"

"Why, ma'am, thickey there little zucker was like me now--just out in
the cold."


_From a Caricature_]

Hicks was driving along a road in the dark one night when he came upon
an empty conveyance, and two men close to the hedge on the roadside.
One man was drunk--a Methodist class-leader--but the other was sober.
The drunken man was lamenting:--

"Ah, too bad! What shall I do when I be called to my last account?
What shall I zay?"

"Zay, Nathaniel?" the sober man said. "What can 'ee zay but that
you've been to Liskeard a auditing of accounts, and took an extra
glass? 'Twill be overlooked for once, sure enough, up there."

A day or so after Hicks met the sober man, and asked how Nathaniel had
got on that night.

The answer was: "He's a terrible affectionate man to his family, and
when we got home he took the babby out o' the cradle for to kiss 'un,
and valled vore with 'un over a vaggot of vurze. Jane, her got into a
passion and laid onto 'un with the broomstick, while he kep' tumblin'
over the babby. When I comed away her'd 'a thrashed 'un sober; and
they'd 'a got the babby on the dresser, naked, and was a-picking out
the prickles."

Hicks knew a man who was of a morose, fanatical humour; and this man
had married a widow with a brisk, merry wench for a daughter. Once he
reproved the girl for singing secular songs in this vale of woe, and
said to her: "Suppose you was took sudden, and called to your last
account with the _Soldier's Tear_ in your mouth?"

Another of his stories was of a chapel where they sang a Cornish
anthem; the females began--

          Oh for a man! oh for a man! oh for a mansion in the sky!

To which the men, basses and tenors, responded--

          Send down sal! send down sal! send down salvation from on high!

A boy at church--another of Hicks's anecdotes; he knew the boy
well--heard the parson give out the banns of "John So-and-so and Betsy
So-and-so, both of this parish. This is the third and last time of

"Mother," said the lad after service; "I shouldn't like it to be
proclaimed in church that sister Jane had been askin' for a husband
dree times afore her got one."

Again, another story told by Hicks:--

"Where be you a-bound to this afternoon?"

"Gwain to see the football match."

"Aw! Like to be a good un?"

"Yes, I reckon. There be a lot o' bitter feelin' betwixt the two teams."

But, indeed, the stories told by William Robert Hicks were many, and
for those who would desire more, let them get Mr. W. F. Collier's
_Tales and Sayings of W. R. Hicks_, Plymouth, Brendon and Son, 1893;
and look at "An Illustrious Obscure," by Abraham Hayward, Q.C., in the
_Morning Post_, 8th September, 1868; and J. C. Young's _Memoirs of C.
M. Young_, 1871, Vol. II, pp. 301-8.

Hicks died at Bodmin 5th September, 1868, at the age of sixty.

                         CAPTAIN TOBIAS MARTIN

Tobias Martin, better known as Cap'n Toby, was born in the parish of
Wendron on January 5th, 1747, and was the son of a father of the same
name, who was a common working miner, but afterwards was advanced to
be a mine agent, or captain of a mine, which situation he retained
during the remainder of his life.

The elder Cap'n Toby was passionately fond of reading, and read
promiscuously whatever came into his hand. But his main literary
passion was for poetry, and he speedily conceived that he possessed
the poetic _afflatus_, because he could string lines together that
rhymed more or less well. He went to a mine near Helston, but was
never in sufficiently good circumstances to be able to give his
children a moderate, let alone a superior education.

Tobias, his second son, inherited the father's love of reading and
liking for the Muse, and as a boy he bitterly lamented that he was not
sent to school.

Deprived through his father's poverty or negligence of the means of
education enjoyed by others, he resolved on supplying the deficiencies
of such instruction by self-application.

From an early age he was employed at the tin-stamping mills near
Helston and Redruth. After he became a man he worked underground on
his own account, i.e. in working setts that he had taken, and at other
times on what is termed among miners "tutwork and tribute."

He had a great ambition to learn French, and studied diligently a
French grammar that he found among his father's books; but, of course,
remained perfectly ignorant of the pronunciation, though able to write
a few sentences and read a book in that language.

Proud of the former capability, he composed some lines in French, or
what he supposed to be French, and wrote them on the belfry door. A Mr.
William Sandys, an attorney at Helston, happening to see these lines,
inquired who had written them, and when he learned that they were by
Toby Martin, he gave him a letter to a Mrs. Brown, who had resided some
time in France, and was believed to have the language at her tongue's
end, to this effect: "The Bearer, Tobias Martin, wishes to learn French,
but his pockets are low." From her Toby did receive some lessons.

Mr. Sandys occasionally employed him, as he could write well, to
assist in his office; he also appointed him toller of the dues
arriving from tin-bounds in Breage, belonging to the Praed family,
which appointment he held to the time of his death.

In 1772 he married Mary Peters, of Helston, and by her had ten children,
four sons and six daughters. In the same year, and, indeed, at the very
same time, Mr. Sandys offered him a situation as escort to his eldest
son, Mr. William Sandys, into France, where the latter was to remain so
as to acquire proficiency in the French language. And--what was somewhat
rough on Toby--he had to leave with his charge the day after his
marriage. The place chosen for William Sandys to acquire French was
singularly badly chosen: it was Painpol, in Brittany, where the natives
talk Breton, and what French they do speak is of an inferior quality and
very unlike that spoken in Paris or Touraine.

After having seen his charge safe to Painpol, Toby returned to Helston
and to his wife.

Next year (1773) in August Toby was despatched again to Painpol, this
time to bring young William home. On his return he set to work to
acquire the Dutch language and learn Latin; but, indeed, there was
scarcely a subject that did not attract him, and that he did not
strive to acquire some knowledge of. It was unfortunate for him that
his studies were so desultory, that he was "Jack of many trades and
master of none."

Some years after his return from France he was appointed captain at
Camborne Vean Mine. He also held the situation of managing agent of
Wheal Heriot's Foot, commonly called Herod's Foot, near Liskeard.

A story is told of him which Mr. Tregellas gives in his _Cornish
Character and Characteristics_ under a fictitious name. Captain Toby
was having his pint of ale at a tavern, when in comes a miner who was
wont to be called "Old Blowhard," and was not esteemed trusty or
diligent as a workman.

"How are 'ee, Capp'n?" says Bill.

"Clever. How art thee?"

"Purty well as for health," says Bill, "but I want a job. Can 'ee give
us waun ovver to your new bal?"

"No, we're full," replied the Captain.

"How many men have 'ee goat ovver theere?" asked Old Blowhard.

"How many? Why we've two sinking a air-shaft through the flockan, and
two to taakle, and that's fower; and theere's two men in the oddit,
and a booay to car tools and that, and that makes three moore, and
that oaltogether es seben."

"And how many cappuns have 'ee goat?" said Bill.

"How many? Why ten."

"What! ten cappuns to watch over seben men? I doan't b'lieve you can
maake that out, for the 'venturers would'n stand it."

"'Tes zackly so then, and I'll maak it out to 'ee in a moment. Waun
cappun es 'nough we oal knaw, but at the laast mittin, the 'venturers
purposed to have waun of the 'venturers' sons maade a cappun, and to
larn, they said; and so a draaper's son, called Sems, was put weth me
from school, at six pound a month, and a shaare of what we had in the

"Well, but how can you maake ten of you and he?"

"Why, I'll tell 'ee how, and you mind 'nother time, Bill, for theere's
somethin' of scholarin' in ut. Now see this: I myself am waun, baent I?"

"Iss, sure," said Bill.

"Well, and theest oft to knaw that young Sems es nawthin'; well, when
theest ben to school so long as I have, theest knaw that waun with a
nought attached to un do maake 10, and so 'tes zackly like that."

In the year 1790 Toby's wife died, and he was left with all his ten
children on his hands. One of these soon died, and he sent for the
sexton, who, after having been regaled with liquor, declared with
gushing emotion, "Lor' bless ee, Cap'n Toby, I'd as soon deg a grave
for 'ee as for any man with whom I be acquainted." In 1792 he married
Ann James, a widow, who kept a small public-house at Porthleven, and
by her had four children, two sons and two daughters.

A short time after his marriage he took the Horse and Jockey Tavern in
Helston, which he kept for four years, and then the "Helston Arms," of
which he was host for five more. He still retained his situation of
mine-agent in Wheal Ann tin mine in Wendron, about two and a half miles
from Helston, where, on quitting the last-mentioned inn, and after the
mine had failed, he lived for some years as captain of Wheal Trevenen,
which was run by a company, but the smelting was consigned to a
speculator of Truro named Daubuz,[34] who had with him one Coad as a
clerk. After a while Martin supposed that Daubuz was swindling the
company, and about the same time Coad quarrelled with Daubuz, and
pretended to reveal how he had been cheating; thereupon the Adventurers
set up their own smelting works. Martin's account of Daubuz must not be
accepted as true. He wrote full of vindictive hate. Anyhow, a
misunderstanding arose between him and the company respecting his
accounts. The Adventurers debited him with a large sum, which ought to
have been and was afterwards charged to the purser. In September, 1811,
at a general meeting of the Adventurers, a Mr. Wyatt, auditor of the
accounts, accused Captain Toby of having falsified his books. This he
stoutly denied, and insisted that his accounts were correct. In
November, 1811, he received his dismissal, not as having acted
fraudulently, but on the plea that he was too old and past work. He was
discharged accordingly in his sixty-second year, and he applied for and
got work at other mines. A year passed before Captain Toby could have
his accounts investigated, and then he received from the purser a copy
of an account, wherein a balance of £109 6s. 6d. appeared against him.
To this he objected, and a dispute arose that lasted some time.

On February 1st, 1812, he was arrested for debt, and confined in the
sheriff's ward at Bodmin for over two months before an accommodation
was arrived at, and he was discharged.

As he could not get Mr. Wyatt to have the accounts inspected, for he
proved shifty, Captain Toby was obliged to appeal to the Vice-Warden
of the Stannaries to issue an order for the investigation of the
accounts. This alarmed Wyatt, and it was mutually agreed that they
should be gone through by Mr. Richard Tyacke, of Godolphin. Mr. Tyacke
in a very short time found that the balance against Martin was only
£29 18s. 4d., and that then there was owing to him from the company
nearly a twelvemonth's wage. He accordingly in February, 1813,
published the following notice:--

    "_To the Public._

    "Having been requested to examine some disputed accounts between
    Trevenen Adventurers and Captain Tobias Martin, I find from
    investigation that the errors in dispute were _not_ contained in
    his account, but in those prepared against him.


After this he received from the company the balance of his salary, and
that put an end to the business. His connection with Wheal Trevenen
having ceased, he worked at Wheal Vorah as captain to 1817, when he
was in his sixty-ninth year. Then he was appointed storekeeper to the
mine and to keep the stock accounts at six guineas per month; and this
situation he filled till March, 1817, when in his seventy-ninth year
he was superannuated at three and a half guineas per month.

On June 4th, 1825, his wife died, and not long after he received the
news of the death of his eldest son, Tobias, under tragical
circumstances, at Washington, U.S.A. The younger Tobias and his wife
had a daughter, a child who went gathering fruit in the hedges of some
land belonging to a rough fellow, who finding her there, carried away
her basket and took as well some of her wearing apparel. When Tobias
Martin the younger heard of this he and his wife went to remonstrate
and ask for the return of the basket and the garments. An altercation
ensued, and the man of whom they complained with his revolver shot
Tobias Martin dead.

This shock broke down the old captain. He had always loved his glass,
but now he took to it more freely than ever, and was often intoxicated.

He died on April 9th, 1828, in the eighty-first year of his age, and
he was buried in Breage churchyard.

Captain Tobias Martin's poems were published at Helston in 1831, and a
second edition in 1856. They are absolutely worthless as poetry, and one
may look in vain through them to find an original or a poetic idea. But
as we have given this man's life, a specimen of the stuff he wrote must
also be given, and one of his shortest compositions will suffice.

          Come, sweet content! best gift of bounteous heav'n,
            Correct my mind and bend my stubborn ways;
          'Tis thou alone canst make life's journey even,
            And crown with happiness my future days.

          Why should I grieve or murmur at my lot?
            Why disobedient to the heav'nly will?
          I cannot turn my thoughts where God is not,
            He is my comfort and my refuge still.

          Blest with content, I will observe His ways;
            On earth I can no greater blessing find.
          Serene and calm, thus let me spend my days,
            And banish discontentment from my mind.

In his religious views Toby Martin was a Deist or Unitarian. In
personal appearance he was inclined to corpulency. His countenance was
large and open, and he stood five feet nine inches high.


[34] He calls Daubuz a Jew. The first Daubuz to settle at Truro was a
Moses. But the family claims Huguenot extraction.

                          THE MAYOR OF BODMIN

When Henry VIII died, Edward VI was aged but ten, and the unprincipled
Protector Somerset took the reins of power into his own hands; and as
he was a strong partisan of the reformers, and enriched himself on the
plunder of the Church, he carried out what he considered to be reforms
with a high hand, with the assistance of the Council, which was filled
with creatures equally rapacious and equally devoid of principle. As
the monasteries had all been suppressed, and the monks and nuns turned
adrift, these poor homeless wretches wandered over the country
entreating alms. In November, 1548, an Act was passed ordering all
such to be branded on the hand, and on repetition of the offence to be
adjudged to slavery.

The baneful effects of the dissolution of the monasteries had,
moreover, been severely felt by the people, for the monks had been
ever ready to afford shelter and relief in sickness or distress, and
the indigent were now driven to frightful extremities throughout the
land, much as would be the case nowadays were the workhouses and poor
laws to be abolished. The monks, moreover, had been most kind and
considerate landlords, and, always residing in their monasteries, what
money they drew in rents from their tenants was spent on the land. But
no sooner were the rapacious hands of the nobles laid on the property
of the Church, than these new proprietors demanded exorbitant rents,
and very generally spent the money in London. The cottagers were
reduced to misery by the enclosure of the commons on which they had
formerly fed their cattle.

Added to all this came violent changes in the services of the Church.
Candles were forbidden to be carried on Candlemas Day, ashes to be
used on Ash Wednesday, and palms on Palm Sunday; all images were to be
removed from the churches, and even the sacred form of the Redeemer on
the Cross above the rood was not respected.

Several of the bishops objected to these proceedings, but Somerset was
inexorable. Then several colleges, chantries, and free chapels, as
well as fraternities and guilds, were abolished, and their lands and
goods confiscated to the King, which, being sold at very small prices,
enriched many of the Protestant hangers-on of the Court, and
strengthened their resolution to maintain the changes.

These violent and hasty proceedings provoked widespread discontent and
even exasperation. The first disturbances arose in the county of
Cornwall, where one Body, a commissioner sent down to "purify" the
churches, was stabbed in the back whilst pulling down images in a
church.[35] Thence they quickly spread into the counties of Devon,
Wilts, Somerset, Hants, Sussex, Kent, Essex, Gloucester, Hereford,
Worcester, Leicester, Oxford, Norfolk, and York. In most parts the
rioters were quickly put down, but the disorders in Devonshire and
Norfolk threatened more dangerous consequences (1549). The commotion
first broke out at Sampford Courtenay on Whit Monday, the day after
the Act for reforming the Church Service had been put in force. The
people assembled and forced the priest to say Mass in the ancient
manner, instead of using the Book of Common Prayer. The commotion
spread through the adjoining parishes, and many came up out of
Cornwall; many of the disaffected gentry of the two counties placed
themselves at the head of the insurgents; among them were Sir Thomas
Pomeroy, Mr. Coffin, and Mr. Humphry Arundell, and the body swelled to
10,000 men. They then laid siege to Exeter, but the citizens shut
their gates against them. Some attempts were made to scale the walls,
which being repulsed, the rebels endeavoured to gain admittance by
burning the gates. The citizens, by adding more wood to the fires,
kept the enemy back till they had raised fresh defences within. After
this the insurgents sought to effect a breach by mining the walls.
Having completed their mine, laid their powder, and rammed the mouth,
before they could explode it the citizens had drenched the powder by
means of a countermine filled with water.

Lord Russell, glutted with the plunder of the Church, was sent to
relieve the city, but the rebels cut down trees and laid them in his
way, so that he could not approach, and after burning some villages he
determined on withdrawing to Honiton. He now found his retreat cut off,
and he was constrained to give battle on Clyst Heath, and defeated them
with great slaughter, killing 600 men. "Such was the valour and
stoutness of these men," says Hooker, "that the Lord Grey reported
himself that he never, in all the wars that he had been in, did know the
like." The ringleaders were taken and executed. The vicar of S. Thomas
by Exeter, who was with them, was conveyed to his church and hanged
from the tower, where his body was left to dangle for four years.

The defeat was on the 7th August, and the rebels were pursued to
Launceston, every one falling into the hands of the King's troops being
put to death. Arundell and other gentlemen were, however, taken
prisoners. The Lords of the Council wrote to Lord Russell on the 21st
August congratulating him on his success, and directing him to search
for Sir Thomas Pomeroy, and to "send up Sir Humphry Arundell, Maunder,
and the Mayor of Bodmin, and two or three of the rankest traitors." They
desired him to delay a short time the issue of a general pardon. In the
same month Lord Russell, William, Lord Grey of Wilton, and Sir William
Herbert, informed the Council that they sent up Pomeroy, Arundell, and
other prisoners; and they observed that Castle, Arundell's secretary,
went up not as a prisoner, but as an accuser of his former employer.

Nicholas Boyer, the Mayor of Bodmin, had escaped capture. But the King's
army pursued the dispersed Cornishmen into the duchy; and Sir Anthony
Kingston, Provost-Marshal, arrived at Bodmin, where the Mayor was snugly
ensconced in his house, and congratulating himself on his escape,
trusted that it was not known that he had taken part in the rising.

No sooner was Sir Anthony in the town than he wrote to Boyer, announcing
his intention of dining with him on a certain day. The Mayor felt highly
honoured at such a mark of confidence and condescension, and made great
preparations, brought out his best plate and linen and wine, and ordered
pasties and siskins and dainty cates of all kinds to be prepared in his
kitchen, so as to receive his guest with becoming hospitality.

A little before dinner the Provost took him aside and whispered in his
ear that execution must that day be done in the town, and nowhere so
suitably as in the street in front of Boyer's door, and he desired
that a gallows might be erected by the time the dinner was ended. The
Mayor complied with the request, and during the meal the hammering of
the carpenters could be heard. The Provost was cheery and jocose, and
if Boyer had been nervous at first, this wore off under the friendly
conversation of his guest.

When dinner was concluded, Sir Anthony asked if the little job he had
ordered had been carried out, and when Boyer assured him that it was
so, "I pray you," said the Provost, "bring me to the place." Thereupon
he took the Mayor by the hand and led him forth before his door, in
the kindliest manner imaginable.

On seeing the gallows, the Provost asked Boyer whether he thought them
strong enough to sustain the weight of a stout man. "Aye," replied the
Mayor; "doubtless they be so."

"Well, then," said the Provost, "get up speedily, for they are
prepared for you."

"I hope," exclaimed the astonished and disconcerted Mayor, "that you
mean not what you speak."

"In very faith," said Sir Anthony Kingston, "there is no remedy, for
you have been a busy rebel."

And so, without trial or defence, he was hanged before his own door by
the man who had just dined at his table.

Sir John Hayward, who relates this incident, tells also the story of a
miller who resided near Bodmin. This man had been a "busy rebel," and
fearing the wrath of the Provost-Marshal, he told a "sturdy, tall
fellow, his servant," that he had occasion to go from home, and that
if any one should inquire for the miller, the fellow should affirm
that he was the man, and that he had been so for three years. The
Provost came to the mill and inquired for the miller, and the servant
at once presented himself as such. The Provost inquired how long he
had kept the mill. "These three years," answered the servant.

"String him up on the nearest tree!" ordered Sir Anthony.

The fellow then cried out that he was not the miller, but the miller's
man. "Nay, sir," said the Provost, "I will take thee at thy word; and if
thou beest the miller, thou art a busy knave; if thou beest not, thou
art a false lying knave; whatsoever thou art, thou shalt be hanged."
When others told him that the man was in reality only the miller's
servant, the Provost replied, "Could he ever have done his master a
better service than to hang in his stead?" and so he was despatched.

Hals says: "Mayow, of Cleoyan, in S. Columb Major, was hanged at a
tavern signpost in that town, of whom tradition says his crime was not
capital; and therefore his wife was advised by her friends to hasten
to the town after the Marshal and his men, who had him in custody, and
beg for his life, which accordingly she prepared to do. And to render
herself the more amiable petitioner before the Marshal's eyes, this
dame spent so much time in attiring herself, and putting on her French
hood, then in fashion, that her husband was put to death before her
arrival. In like manner the Marshal hanged John Payne, the mayor or
portreeve of St. Ives, on a gallows erected in the middle of that
town, whose arms are still to be seen in one of the fore seats in that
church, viz. in a plain field, three pineapples."

Humphry Arundell, who had headed the rebels, was the son of Roger
Arundell, of Helland, and he had been appointed Governor of S. Michael's
Mount in 1539. He had married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Fulford.
After his capture he was taken up to London, confined in the Tower, and
hanged at Tyburn, 27th January, 1549-50. Sir Thomas Pomeroy, of Berry
Pomeroy, managed to save his life, but suffered severely in his estate.
He married Jane, daughter of Sir Piers Edgcumbe, of Cothele.

Strype tells us that "when this rebellion was well allayed, it was
remembered how the bells in the churches served, by ringing, to summon
and call in the disaffected unto their arms. Therefore, in September,
an order was sent down from the Council to the Lord Russell, to
execute a work that proved no doubt highly disgustful to the people,
viz. to take away all the bells in Devonshire and Cornwall, leaving
only one in each steeple, which was to call the people to church. And
this partly to prevent the like insurrection for the future, and
partly to help to defray the charges the King had been at among them."

Strype adds that "two gentlemen of those parts, Champion (Champernon)
and (Sir John) Chichester, assistant perhaps against the rebels, took
this opportunity to get themselves rewarded, by begging, not the
bells, but the bell-clappers only, which was granted them, with the
ironwork and furniture thereunto belonging. And no question they made
good benefit thereof."


[35] The murderer was William Kilter, priest of S. Keverne, and he
killed William Body, the lessee of the archdeaconry of Cornwall, in
Helston Church as he was engaged in smashing the images, 5th April,
1548. For this he was hanged, drawn, and quartered, 7th July, 1548.

                           JOHN NICHOLS TOM,

                  _alias_ SIR WILLIAM COURTENAY, K.M.

This strange man was the son of William Tom, landlord of the "Joiners'
Arms," S. Columb, and of his wife Charity Bray--"Cracked Charity" was
the nickname she bore--who died in the County Lunatic Asylum, and it
was from his mother that the subject of this memoir derived the bee
that was in his bonnet.

John Nichols was born at S. Columb Major on November 10th, 1799, and
he owed his name to a kinsman of his mother--his godfather, a
well-to-do-farmer, who was unmarried.

At an early age John Nichols Tom showed a mischievous disposition. He
was turned out of the dame's school at which he had been placed for
cutting off the whiskers of her favourite cat. At the next school where
he was placed he exhibited the characteristic vanity that was a leading
feature through life. He liked to be thought to know more than any of
his fellow pupils. One day he propounded to them the question:--

"Who is Neptune? I bet none of you know."

"Neptune," replied one urchin, "is my father's Newfoundland dog."

"Then who is Venus?"

"She is mother's spaniel bitch," answered one of the boys.

John Nichols in a fury fell on both with his fists.

"No such thing. Neptune is a god, and Venus is a goddess."

A general fray was the result, out of which our hero came mauled.

When it became time for him to strike out a course in life, he was
placed in an attorney's office, and he conducted himself there well.

A fire broke out on the premises of the elder Tom and consumed the
house. This occasioned Mrs. Tom to sink into a condition of profound
melancholy, and she rapidly became so wholly insane that she had to be
confined in an asylum, where some years later she died, and then Mr.
Tom married a schoolmistress who lived on the other side of the road.
This did not please John Nichols, and he quitted the attorney's office
and was placed in the firm of Plumer and Turner, wine merchants and
maltsters at Truro, as cellarman. After five years' service the firm
came to an end, and Tom then began to trade on his own account. He
married Catherine, second daughter of a Mr. Philpot, of Truro, whose
elder sister Julia was engaged to a Mr. Hugo. Tom moved into his
father-in-law's house, which was old and dilapidated, and rebuilt it
as a commodious mansion, with spacious premises in its rear for the
carrying on of the business of a maltster. But on a sudden a fire
broke out in this newly-constructed malt-house, and speedily consumed
all that had been built for his business. Folk naturally concluded
that, as Tom had recently had some losses, he had set fire to his
premises, that were insured for £3000, and they remembered that his
father's house had also been insured and been burnt down. But Tom
demanded that a most searching inquiry should be made as to the cause
of the fire, and the insurance company, satisfying itself that it
was accidental, paid the sum without demur. With the money thus
received he rebuilt his premises, and continued the business. Those
who saw much of him were convinced that, as they termed it, "there was
a screw loose somewhere." He affected an unusual dress, and tried to
induce his wife to assume a habit that would have caused her to be
mobbed in the streets. He moreover became great as an orator,
denouncing the Church, the aristocracy, and all organized governments.
In a word, he was a Socialist of the day.


Two years later he made a considerable sum of money by a successful
venture in malt at Liverpool. The result of the transaction may be
gathered from the following letter which he wrote to his wife, and
which was the last she ever received from him:--

                                        "LIVERPOOL, _May 3, 1832_.


    "I merely wish to inform you that I have just discharged the
    vessel of the malt, which has given every satisfaction to the
    purchasers. The measurement has exceeded my expectations by
    twenty-four Winchesters. There are the malt sacks in the vessel,
    and also half a bushel of the bottom scrapings; this you will get
    screened immediately. I am well and in good spirits (thank God for
    it). As I shall write to you again in a day or two, my letter will
    be short. The letter you will receive by post shall contain all I
    have to say, and as it will be subsequent to this I need not
    prolong. I have paid the captain of the vessel all the freight.

                    "With the kindest regards to all,
                             "I remain, yours affectionately,
                                              "JOHN NICHOLS TOM."

The letter was rational enough, but it was the last rational act he
committed, as this also was the last time that he signed his name as

For some time his imagination had been influenced by stories that
circulated relative to Lady Hester Stanhope, the "Queen of Lebanon," of
her wealth, her authority over Arabs and Druses, of her prophecies and
expectations of the near coming of the Messiah to institute the
millennium; and he felt convinced that he was predestined to be the
forerunner or herald to announce the coming advent of Christ. He had
read a translation of Lamartine's _Travels in the East_, in which it was
stated that, according to Eastern prophecy, the Messiah would ride into
Jerusalem on a mare foaled ready saddled, and that Lady Hester had such
a mare ready for the advent of the Prince of Peace. "Since destiny,"
said Lady Hester to Lamartine, "has sent you hither--permit me to
confide to you what I have hitherto concealed from so many of the
profane. Come, and you shall see with your own eyes a prodigy of Nature,
the destination of which is known only to myself and my immediate
votaries. The prophets of the East have announced it centuries ago, and
yourself shall be judge if a part of those prophecies have not been
accomplished." Lamartine goes on to say: "She opened a gate of the
garden which led into a smaller inner court, where I perceived two
magnificent Arab mares of the finest blood, and of the most symmetrical
form. 'Approach,' said she to me, 'and examine that bay mare: see if
Nature hath not accomplished in her everything which is written about
the mare that is to carry the Messiah--_she was foaled_ ready saddled!'

"I saw, in fact, in this beautiful animal a freak of nature. The mare
had, in the place of the shoulders, a cavity so broad and deep, and
imitating so well the form of a Turkish saddle, that it might be said
with truth that she was foaled ready saddled, and but for the want of
stirrups she might have been mounted without experiencing the want of
an artificial saddle."

This account that John Tom had read of Lady Hester made the most
profound impression on his mind, and inflated as he was with
self-conceit and ambition, he conceived that he was called to take a
place beside, if not before, Lady Hester, as a herald of Christ.
Accordingly, having his pocket full of money from the sale of his
malt, he started for Havre, and thence for Constantinople and Syria.

For what follows, till his reappearance in England in December of the
same year, 1832, our sole authority is "Canterburiensis," who wrote
Tom's life, but who does not tell us what were his authorities, and
who certainly so embroidered some of the facts he relates, that in
instances we feel uncertain whether they are facts or fables.

According to this authority he arrived at Beirout, at what date we are
not informed, and he at once presented himself before the English
consul, under the assumed name of Sir William Courtenay, Knight, and
requested an escort to the Lebanon, where he desired to see Hester
Stanhope, and acquaint her with the fact that he was the forerunner of
the expected Messiah. The consul saw that the man was not wholly sane,
and he was in a dilemma what to do with him; finally he concluded that
it would not be unwise to send one mad head to the other, and see what
would be the result. Accordingly he gave Sir William, as we must now
call him, an escort and he departed for her Lebanon residence, at

"On arriving at the principal entrance, Sir William sent forward his
dragoman to announce to the slave, who was standing at the door, that
a person of consequence, on a mission of high import, requested an
interview with Lady Hester Stanhope. Sir William and the dragoman were
accordingly conducted into a narrow cell, deprived almost of all
light, and almost destitute of furniture; here they were ordered to
wait, until the pleasure of her ladyship should be known. After
waiting full three hours in the most suffocating heat, the slave
returned with a rather peremptory message, demanding, on the part of
her ladyship, to know who and what the stranger was who had solicited
an interview with her. Sir William wrote with his pencil, that he had
travelled from the County of Cornwall to announce to the expectant
faithful in the East the approaching advent of the Messiah, and that
as her ladyship had established herself in the Holy Land for the
direct purpose of awaiting that glorious event, which was so near at
hand, he considered that he was acting in conformity with the high
destiny that was awarded to him to communicate to her ladyship in
person the arrival of the Millennium, that she might co-operate with
him in spreading the glad tidings throughout the Holy Land, and
acknowledge him as the harbinger of the great event.

"Fully satisfied that Lady Hester Stanhope would in a short time rush
into his arms and hail him as the accredited messenger of Heaven, Sir
William felt not the torrid heat, but stood in dignified complacency
with himself, proudly awaiting the result of his message. In a very
short time the slave returned, followed by several others, and it
would be a difficult task to describe the astonishment and indignation
of Sir William when he was informed that it was the decided opinion of
her ladyship that he was an impostor, for that not one of the
prophecies had been as yet fulfilled, which were to precede the
coming of the Messiah, nor in any one of those prophecies was the
slightest mention made of a messenger being appointed to announce His
coming, and that accordingly the sooner he returned to his native
country, the better it would be for him."

In a word, Sir William was detected, without having been seen, as an
impostor, and was ejected from the house as such.

We should greatly like to know how much of this is true. Not only are no
dates given, but the name of the consul at Beirout is also withheld.

Nothing remained for Sir William Courtenay to do but to retire
discomfited to England, and try there whether he would have better luck.
He embarked in a ship of Beirout for Malta, and after a residence of
about three weeks in that island, sailed for England and arrived safely
in London. The first intimation that he was back, received in Cornwall,
was that he had assumed the name and title of Sir William Percy
Honeywood Courtenay, Knight of Malta, King of Jerusalem, and Prince of
Abyssinia, and that he had presented himself before the electors of
Canterbury to contest that borough, in December, 1832.

He had taken up his residence at the Rose Hotel, Canterbury, where his
dignified manners, his rich dress, his professions that he was the
rightful owner of the estates of the Earl of Devon, and that he
intended to establish his claims to them, his assertion that he was
not only Knight of Malta but also _de jure_ King of Jerusalem, imposed
on so many of the burgesses of Canterbury that he polled 375 votes;
but was unsuccessful, as the opponent candidates, the Honourable R.
Watson and Lord Fordwick gained respectively 832 and 802.

After his defeat Tom made a circuit through the towns and villages of
Kent, declaiming against the poor laws, the revenue laws, and such
other portions of the statutes of the realm as might be considered by
the poor to be adverse to their interests. By his speeches he obtained
great success, and a sort of periodical that he issued, entitled _The
Lion_, was greedily bought and distributed. But it ran through eight
numbers only. The full title was "The Lion. The British Lion will be
free. Heaven is his throne and earth is his footstool. He spake and it
was done, he commanded and it stood fast. Liberty, truth bears off the
victory, independence."

He then started for Devonshire, accompanied by a gentleman who so
firmly believed in his pretensions that he defrayed his expenses to
the amount of a thousand pounds. This man, Mr. George Denne, and a
young surgeon named Robinson were completely duped by him. "My dearest
George," said the Knight of Malta to the former, "it may please Heaven
to take me in a short time from this sphere of my sublunary greatness,
to translate me to the beatitude of another world."

"I hope not, Sir William," said George Denne.

"But," continued Sir William, "I shall carry with me the pleasing
satisfaction of having provided in a truly princely manner for those
who, whilst I was on earth, had the sense and sagacity to see into the
nobility of my character, and to acknowledge me as Lord Viscount William
Courtenay, of Powderham Castle, Knight of Malta, King of Jerusalem,
Prince of Arabia, King of the Gypsies, and all the other honours and
titles which by descent or creation belong to me. To you, therefore,
George Denne, I bequeath the Hales' estate, with the proviso that you
erect a monument on the highest ground on that estate to the memory of
me, the great Lord of Devon, the regenerator of the world, and one of
the greatest benefactors whom the human race ever saw."

In like manner he bequeathed to Mr. Robinson the whole of Powderham
Castle and all its valuable paintings, together with one-half of the
lands belonging to the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury Cathedral.

It will hardly be credited to what an extent he was run after at
Canterbury. Professional men, such as physicians, surgeons, solicitors,
also gentlemen of independent property and tradesmen of the first
respectability, were his staunch supporters, and daily invited him to
their table, and introduced him to the bosom of their families. The
invitations which he received to dinners, teas, and suppers were so
numerous that he was known to attend several parties in a few hours.
Mothers with marriageable daughters hunted him in packs.

But--it was asked--why did not Sir William take possession of his
extensive estates in Devon? It was to do this that he started,
attended by his faithful squire, Mr. George Denne. On reaching
Exmouth, Sir William despatched his squire to the authorities of the
place to announce his arrival, and that as Lord of Devon and King of
Jerusalem he would hold a levee at eight o'clock in the evening, at
which he would be ready to receive them and lay before them his right
and title to Powderham Castle and the estates belonging to it.

But when the hour of the levee arrived only one man appeared, and that
was the steward of the Earl of Devon, who came very bluntly to inform
him that should he venture to set foot within the private grounds of
Powderham Castle he would be prosecuted for trespass.

Next day Sir William repaired to the newspaper office at Exmouth, and
drew up an advertisement, purporting to be an announcement of the
arrival of the rightful Earl of Devon for the purpose of taking
possession of Powderham Castle, and a statement to the effect that he
was now recalled to the metropolis to appear before the House of Lords
to substantiate his claim. The editor laughed in his face, refused to
insert what was handed over to him, and tore it to shreds.

Full of wrath, Sir William shook off the dust from his feet as a
testimony against Exmouth, and departed for London, where he remained
two or three days, and then returned to Canterbury.

There he speedily involved himself in difficulties by his exertions in
favour of some smugglers. An action had taken place in July, 1833,
between the revenue cutter _Lively_ and the _Admiral Hood_, smuggler,
near Goodwin Sands, and in the course of the flight of the latter
vessel her crew were observed to throw overboard a great number of
tubs, which on being picked up proved to contain spirits. The _Admiral
Hood_ was captured, but no contraband goods were found on board; and
on the men being taken into custody, Tom presented himself as a
witness before the magistrates, and swore most positively that he had
seen the whole affair, and that no tubs had been thrown from the
_Admiral Hood_; he further stated that he had observed those which had
been picked up by the revenue officers floating about on the water
many hours before the _Admiral Hood_ came near the Goodwins. This was
so diametrically opposed to the truth that a prosecution for perjury
was resolved on, and he was indicted at the Maidstone Assizes on July
25th, 1833. It was then proved that Sir William, on the very day on
which the action had taken place, Sunday, the 17th February, had been
twenty-five miles distant at Boughton-under-Blean, near Canterbury,
and at the very hour of the action had been at church there. A verdict
of conviction followed, and Mr. Justice Park, the presiding judge,
passed a sentence of imprisonment for three months, to be followed by
seven years of transportation beyond the seas.

This having reached the ears of his relations in Cornwall,
representations were made by them to the Home Secretary that he was
insane, and he was transferred to a lunatic asylum at Barming Heath,
where he remained for four years, but whence he still issued addresses
to his adherents in Canterbury and interfered in the election of
councillors. There he remained for five years, and then a determined
effort was made by his father and friends, and by Sir Hussey Brian, to
obtain his liberation, and Lord John Russell ordered his liberation.
This was an electioneering manœuvre, and Lord John had some difficulty
in justifying his conduct in the House when later taken to task for
having set this madman free.

On quitting the asylum, Tom hoped to take up his residence with a Mr.
G. Francis, with whom he had been on terms of intimacy before. But Mr.
Francis was by this time disillusioned, and when the Knight of Malta
presented himself before him armed with a new pair of pistols, he
remonstrated with him, and ordered him to quit the house; when he went
to a cottage hard by occupied by one Wills, who was completely the
dupe of Tom, and a passionate agitator. Then he went to Bossenden Farm
occupied by a person named Culver. He gave out that he was the true
proprietor of many of the finest estates in Kent, but that he would
not enter into possession for two years. In addition to his living
upon and amongst the farmers, he induced many of them to give him
large sums of money, promising that for every shilling lent he would
return a pound; and that, when he was in full possession of his
estates, all his followers should have land free from rent according
to their deserts. These promises made many dupes, and enabled him to
indulge in luxuries which excited the astonishment of those not
acquainted with his resources, and made many believe that he was what
he pretended to be--really a nobleman of large property. To keep up
this notion he made presents to various individuals; thus, to a fellow
who had been prosecuted by the Revenue, Courtenay gave two horses
worth £40. He was fond of displaying himself in fantastic dresses; he
allowed his hair and beard, that was coal-black, to grow long; and he
taught his followers to roar his battle song, of which only a few
verses can be given here:--

          Hark! old England's pris'ners' groan--
          'Tis a deep and mournful tone--
          From oppression to be free,
          And enjoy true liberty.


              Britons must be--will be free;
              Truth bears off the victory!

          Lo! deliverance is at hand;
          Courtenay's made a noble stand;
          He the tyrants has arous'd--
          He has freedom's cause espous'd,

              Britons must be, etc.

          Courtenay's cause is good, is just,
          Safely we in him may trust:
          Truth and virtue's on his side,
          We will still in him confide.

              Britons must be, etc.

          Men and devils still may rage,
          Their united powers engage--
          Infidelity shall fall,
          Christ shall then be all in all.

              Britons must be, etc.

          Slav'ry's chains shall then be broke,
          We shall soon cast off the yoke,
          Independence is our right,
          Victory soon shall crown the fight.

              Britons must be, etc.

          Corp'rate bodies then shall cease,
          They're destruction to our peace;
          Party spirit shall no more
          Tyrannize with lawless pow'r.

              Britons must be, etc.

          Then, when victory's palm is won,
          Glorious as the summer sun,
          Shall Lord Courtenay's cause arise,
          Showing forth in cloudless skies.

              Britons must be, etc.

Harrison Ainsworth, who has introduced Courtenay into his novel
_Rookwood_, thus accurately describes him: "A magnificent coal-black
beard decorated the chin of this worthy; but this was not all--his
costume was in perfect keeping with his beard, and consisted of a very
theatrical-looking suit, upon the breast of which was embroidered in
gold wire the Maltese cross; while on his shoulders were thrown the
ample folds of a cloak of Tyrian hue. To his side was girt a long and
doughty sword, which he termed, in his knightly phrase, Excalibur; and
upon his profuse hair rested a hat as broad in the brim as a Spanish
sombrero. Exaggerated as this description may appear, we can assure
our readers that it is not overdrawn."

He now resumed his rambles round Kent, and visited the cottages wherever
he went, giving himself out to be Jesus Christ come back on earth to
sift the wheat from the chaff before setting up his millennial kingdom.
He showed his hands and feet and side marked with red--but there must
have been conscious fraud on his part, for after his death no such scars
could be found. Many of the poor and ignorant believed in him and
followed him. His head-quarters were for a while the house of one of his
most devoted followers named Wills, but he presently left that and
removed to a farmhouse at Boughton, where lived a farmer called Culver,
who was also a believer. He infatuated the women even more than the men,
for he was tall, dark, and handsome, and they took up his cause
passionately, and urged their husbands and fathers to follow him,
"because he was the very Christ, and unless they adhered to him fire
would come down from Heaven and consume them."

Instances occurred, and that by no means infrequently, in which he
presented himself to be worshipped as God by the ignorant peasantry.

At length this excitement was destined to be brought to a conclusion.

On Monday, May 28th, 1838, Tom, with about fifteen followers, sallied
forth from the village of Boughton without having any very distinct
object in view, and proceeded to the cottage of Wills. Here they
formed in column; and a loaf having been procured it was placed at the
top of a pole, which bore a flag of blue and white, upon which a lion
rampant was drawn. Wills having joined them, they marched to
Goodrestone, near Faversham; and on the way Tom harangued the country
people, who came out into the roads. From thence they went to a farm
at Herne Hill, where they received food, and then on to Dargate
Common. Here, by Tom's orders, all prayed. After this they proceeded
to Bossenden Farm, where they rested for the night in a barn.

At three o'clock on Tuesday morning they went to Sittingbourne, and
there Tom provided them with breakfast, for which he paid twenty-seven
shillings. Thence they marched to Newnham, where, at the George Inn,
they received a similar treat. What they went marching for not one of
these deluded men seemed to know, unless it were to gather recruits; and
in this he was successful. Wherever he went--at Eastling, Throwley,
Sildswick, Lees, and Selling--he delivered speeches, made promises, and
obtained adherents. Then the whole party returned to Bossenden Farm.
Here there was an extensive wood, in which the true Canterbury bell is
found. The district is called the Blean, and here a condition of affairs
existed that greatly helped on the cause of Tom. In the eighteenth
century much of the Blean was taken possession of by a number of
squatters, who settled on the ground, then extra-parochial, as a "free
port," from which none could dislodge them, and there they remained
paying rent to none. Now the poor deluded peasants of the neighbourhood
conceived the idea that Tom, or Courtenay, as he had called himself, was
the promised Messiah who was come to give to them all lands to be their
own, on which each man might sit under his own vine, and that the rich
and large-landed proprietors would be cast out and consumed by the
breath of his mouth.

During the tramp of these enthusiasts about the country, a farmer
named Curling lost some of his labourers, who were enticed away from
their work to follow with the rest. Curling at once mounted his horse
and went to a magistrate, and procured from him a warrant for the
apprehension of Courtenay _alias_ Tom. Nicholas Meares, a constable,
and his brother were entrusted to execute the warrant; and on Thursday
morning, 31st May, about six o'clock, they hastened to Culver's farm
to secure the men. Upon their presenting themselves, Courtenay stood
forward, and before Meares could read the warrant shot him dead. He
then went into the house, exclaiming to those who were there, "Now am
I not your Saviour?" and then issuing from the house again, he
discharged a second pistol into the body of Meares, and proceeded to
mutilate it barbarously with his sword.

The news of this murder was conveyed to the magistrates, and they
proceeded to take steps for the apprehension of Courtenay. But the
latter at once called out his men, and they marched into Bossenden
Wood, and there profanely he imitated the Last Supper and administered
to his dupes in bread and water. This over, a man named Alexander Foad
knelt down in the presence of the rest and worshipped him as his
Saviour, and demanded whether he were required to follow him in body,
or whether he might be allowed to return to his home and follow him in
spirit. Courtenay replied, "In the body"; whereupon Foad sprang to his
feet, exclaiming, "Oh! be joyful, be joyful! the Saviour has accepted
me. Now go on; I will follow till I drop."

Another man, named Blanchard, also worshipped him, and Courtenay then
said, in reference to the murder of Meares, "I was executing the
justice of Heaven in consequence of the power that God has given me."

At twelve o'clock Tom and his followers shifted their position to an
osier-bed, and there he harangued them, informing them that he and all
such as believed in him would be invulnerable. He defied the magistrates
and all the power of the world: his was the Kingdom of Heaven; and
then he advised his followers to take up a position in ambush in the
wood. At this time Tom noticed that a Mr. Handley, of Herne Hill, was
observing their actions, and Courtenay _alias_ Tom fired at him; but he
was beyond the range, and he happily missed his aim.


In the meantime the magistrates had taken steps to put an end to this
fiasco. They had despatched a messenger to Canterbury to summon the
military, and a detachment of a hundred men of