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

penniless.

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

adopted.

"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

inventor.

FOOTNOTES:

[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

him.

"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

beforehand.

"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

condition.

JOHN COUCH ADAMS,

ASTRONOMER

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

JOHANNIS COUCH ADAMS]

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

worship.

"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 CHEESE-WRING]

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

York.

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

down:--

"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

accepted.

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

morning.

"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.

60

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

philosophy.

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

plague.

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

countermanded.

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

"1633. FROM MAIOR TO MAIOR TO THE TOWNE OF PERMARIN, WHERE THEY

RECEIVED MEE THAT WAS IN GREAT MISERY"

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).

FOOTNOTE:

[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.

[Illustration: GEORGE CARTER BIGNELL.

_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

Cornwall.

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

Stransham.

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

insect.

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

trumpets.

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.

[Illustration: WHITEFORD. THE RESIDENCE OF SIR JOHN CALL

_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

Whiteford.

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

Magazine_:--

"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

Penrose_]

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.

[Illustration: GLASS INSCRIBED "SUCCESS TO THE EAGLE FRIGATE, JOHN

KNILL COMMANDER"

_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

conversion."

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,

1672.

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'

cottages.

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.

FOOTNOTE:

[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.

[Illustration: NEVIL NORTHEY BURNARD

_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."

[Illustration: WESLEY'S HEAD OVER THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE, PENPONT,

ALTARNON

_Cut by Burnard when_ 16 _years of age_]

[Illustration: TOMBSTONES CUT BY BURNARD

_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

subject.

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.

[Illustration: TOMBSTONES IN ALTARNON CHURCHYARD CUT BY BURNARD]

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.,

INVENTOR

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._

SIR GOLDSWORTHY GURNEY]

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

furnace-chimneys.

"_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

abroad."

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

iron.

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

rail.

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.

FOOTNOTE:

[13] Smiles (S.), _Lives of the Engineers_, Vol. III, p. 100. London,

1862.

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

pamphleteers.

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

prejudice.

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.

Also:--

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[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.

[Illustration: DOROTHY PENTREATH of MOUSEHOLE in CORNWALL

_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.

[Illustration: MONSCHOLE, IN MOUNT'S BAY, FROM THE ISLAND

_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

abandoned."

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

Pentreath.

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.

147-51.

ADMIRAL RICHARD DARTON

THOMAS

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

water.

"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

harbour.

"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

assistance."

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.

FOOTNOTE:

[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

Samuel.

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:--

"DEAR MOTHER,

"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--

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

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

endureth."

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."

FOOTNOTE:

[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