part in the matter that she allowed him to escort her and her mother to

their home, and Lord Mohun and the soldiers followed as though in

pursuit, Hill occasionally facing round as though to dare them to

approach.

Upon reaching Howard Street the soldiers were dismissed, as being no

longer required, as it was now deemed impossible to carry out the

original plan of a forcible abduction.

Just as Hill was about to withdraw, he plucked Page by the sleeve, and

intimated to him that he had a desire to speak with him in private;

but that gentleman, who was eager to be back at his own house, replied

hastily that "another time would do; to-morrow would serve."

However, no sooner was Mrs. Bracegirdle safe within the house, than

the others, fearing that evil might befall Page, laid hold of him and

drew him within, and closed the door in the face of Captain Hill.

Instead of having his ardour cooled by his rebuff, the captain became

more wroth, and determined to revenge himself on Mountford; and in

conjunction with Lord Mohun, he continued pacing up and down the

street for two mortal hours with his sword drawn.

Those within the house being greatly alarmed at their proceedings,

sent Mrs. Browne out to inquire the reason of this. To this they

replied, with the utmost frankness, that they were awaiting the

arrival of Mr. Mountford. As evidence that the besiegers had no

intention of withdrawing, they sent for a couple of bottles of wine,

when the watch came up and asked what they were doing in the streets

at such an hour of the night with drawn swords in their hands.

These inquiries were cut short at once by Lord Mohun saying, "I am a

peer of the realm; touch me if you dare!" a reply that so staggered

the watch that they slunk away without further question. They had,

however, observed the waiter who brought the wine and they followed

him to the tavern to draw from him an explanation they did not venture

to demand from a nobleman.

Whilst the besiegers were tipping off their wine, the besieged found

an opportunity for sending a messenger to warn Mrs. Mountford of the

danger threatening her husband and to bid her communicate with him.

Nor was this the only one, a second and perhaps a third were also

despatched to caution him. But unhappily every one of these messengers

failed to reach him, and at midnight he came along the street on his

way homeward without entertaining the least apprehension.

Lord Mohun was the first to meet and salute the unhappy man, when the

latter expressed his surprise at finding his lordship there at such an

hour.

"I suppose you have been sent for?" was the curt reply. Mountford

said, No--he was there on his way home from the playhouse.

"You know all about the lady, I imagine," said Lord Mohun.

Mountford not understanding the drift of his words said, "I hope that

my wife has given you no offence."

"You mistake me," said Lord Mohun; "it is Mrs. Bracegirdle that I mean."

"Mrs. Bracegirdle is no concern of mine," replied Mountford; "but I

hope your lordship does not countenance any ill action of Mr. Hill."

The conversation was interrupted by the impatient captain, who

suddenly started forward, and exclaiming, "This is no longer the time

for such discourses!" struck Mountford with his left hand, and

immediately ran him through the body. The wounded man did not fall to

the ground at once; he had still, for a moment, sufficient strength

left to draw his sword, though not to use it, when, exhausted by the

effort, he sank upon the ground.

A cry of murder arose, Hill fled, and the watch came up now from the

tavern where they had been questioning the drawer and imbibing.

Mountford was carried to his own lodgings, where he died, about one

o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, for it was some time after

midnight when the affair took place.

"The grand jury of Middlesex," says Macaulay, "consisting of gentlemen

of note, found a bill of murder against Hill and Mohun. Hill escaped.

Mohun was taken. His mother threw herself at King William's feet, but

in vain. 'It was a cruel act,' said the King. 'I shall leave it to the

law.'

"The trial came on in the Court of the Lord High Steward, and, as

Parliament happened to be sitting, the culprit had the advantage of

being judged by the whole body of the peerage. There was then no

lawyer in the Upper House. It therefore became necessary, for the

first time since Buckhurst had pronounced sentence on Essex and

Southampton, that a peer who had never made jurisprudence his special

study should preside over that grave tribunal. Caermarthen, who, as

Lord President, took precedence of all the nobility, was appointed

Lord High Steward. A full report of the proceedings has come down to

us. No person, who carefully examines that report, and attends to the

opinion unanimously given by the judges in answer to a question which

Nottingham drew up, and in which the facts brought out by the evidence

are stated with perfect fairness, can doubt that the crime of murder

was fully brought home to the prisoner. Such was the opinion of the

King, who was present during the trial; and such was the almost

unanimous opinion of the public. Had the issue been tried by Holt and

twelve plain men at the Old Bailey, there can be no doubt that a

verdict of Guilty would have been returned. The Peers, however, by

sixty-nine votes to fourteen, acquitted their accused brother. One

great nobleman was so brutal and stupid as to say, 'After all, the

fellow was but a player; and players are rogues.' All the newspapers,

all the coffee-house orators complained that the blood of the poor was

shed with impunity by the great. Wits remarked that the only fair

thing about the trial was the show of ladies in the galleries. Letters

and journals are still extant in which men of all shades of opinion,

Whigs, Tories, Non-jurors, condemn the partiality of the tribunal."

On the one hand, the words of the dying man exculpated Mohun from any

share in the actual murder; on the other hand, it is clear from the

uncontradicted testimony of more than one witness, that he was fully

cognizant of Hill's intentions, and that he did not hesitate to

encourage him by his presence through the whole affair. According to

the Attorney-General, his first question, when he surrendered himself,

was, "Has Mr. Hill escaped?" and, upon being answered in the

affirmative, he exclaimed, "I am glad of it! I should not care if I

were hanged for him," his only regret being that Hill had escaped with

very little money about him. He confessed, moreover, to the watch,

that he had changed coats with his friend; the object, of course, was

to throw out the pursuers as much as possible by this slight disguise.

This is Lord Mohun's portrait as drawn by a not unfavourable hand:

"Charles, Lord Mohun, is the representative of a very ancient family,

but he had the misfortune to come to the title young, while the estate

was in decay; his quality introduced him into the best company, but his

wants very often led him into bad; so that he became one of the

arrantest rakes in town, and, indeed, a scandal to the peerage; was

generally a sharer in all riots; and before he was twenty years old was

tried twice for murder by the House of Peers. On his being acquitted at

the last trial, he expressed his contrition for the scandal he brought

upon his degree as peer by his behaviour, in very handsome terms, and

promised to behave himself so, for the future, as not to give further

scandal; and he has been as good as his word; for now he applies himself

in good earnest to the knowledge of the constitution of his country, and

to serve it; and having a good deal of fine and good sense, turned this

way, makes him very considerable in the House. He is brave in his

person, bold in his expressions, and rectifies, as fast as he can, the

slips of his youth, by acts of honesty, which he now glories in more

than he was formerly extravagant. He was married, when very young, to a

niece of my Lord Macclesfield, who, dying without issue, left him a

considerable estate,[18] which he well improves. The Queen continues him

colonel of a regiment of foot. He is of middle stature, inclining to

fat, not thirty years old."

However much he may have intended to amend, Lord Mohun was again

involved in a murder, that of a Mr. Coote, a few years later, in

conjunction with the Earl of Warwick; he was, however, pronounced

innocent by the unanimous suffrage of the Peers.

After this last affair only was it that he amended his ways, and the

author of _The History of Queen Anne_, March 11th, London, 1713, gives

a favourable account of him. "After this last misfortune my Lord Mohun

did wonderfully reclaim; and what by his reading, what by his

conversation with the ablest statesmen, so well improved his natural

parts, that he became a great ornament to the peerage and a strenuous

asserter of the cause of Liberty, and the late Revolution: which last,

however, could not but raise him many enemies; and is, I doubt, the

only reason why his memory is so unfairly, so barbarously treated.

'Tis true, my Lord Mohun, like most men in our cold climate, still

lov'd a merry glass of wine with his friends. But in this he was a

happy reverse to some men, who owe all their bright parts in the

management of affairs to the fumes of Burgundy and Champaign: for he

was exemplarily temperate when he had any business of moment to

attend. He behaved himself so discretely at the Court of Hanover,

whither he accompanyed the late Earl of Macclesfield, whose niece he

had married, that he left an excellent character behind him with the

most serene Elector, and the Princess Sophia, his mother, two allow'd

judges of merit; and when his Highness was to be install'd Knight of

the Garter he appointed the Lord Mohun to be his proxy."[19]

Party feeling strongly coloured the descriptions given of the

character of Lord Mohun. He was a Whig and zealous advocate of the

claims of the Elector of Hanover, and was consequently obnoxious to

the Tories and Jacobites. In the _Examiner_ he is represented in the

worst light; and is even accused of cowardice; but Bishop Burnet was

able to say no more of him than this: "I am sorry I cannot say so much

good of him as I wish; and I had too much kindness for him, to say any

evil unnecessarily."

In 1711 the attention of the legislature was drawn to the subject of

duels by Sir Peter King; and after dwelling on the alarming increase

of the practice, obtained leave to bring in a Bill for the prevention

and punishment of duelling. It was read a first time on May 11th, and

was ordered for a second reading in the ensuing week.

About the same time the attention of the Upper House was also drawn

to the subject in a painful manner. In a debate in the Lords upon the

conduct of the Duke of Ormond in refusing to hazard a general

engagement with the enemy, Earl Pawlet remarked that nobody could

doubt the courage of the Duke. "He was not like a certain general, who

led troops to the slaughter, to cause great numbers of officers to be

knocked on the head in a battle, or against stone walls, in order to

fill his pockets by disposing of their commissions."

That this was levelled at the Duke of Marlborough no one doubted, but he

remained silent, though evidently suffering in mind. Soon after the

House broke up, the Earl Pawlet received a visit from Lord Mohun, who

told him that the Duke of Marlborough desired some explanation of the

words he had used, as certain expressions employed by his lordship were

greatly offensive to him. He would accordingly be very glad to meet him,

and for that purpose desired him "to take a little air in the country."

Earl Pawlet did not affect to misunderstand the hint, but asked Lord

Mohun in plain terms whether he brought a challenge from the Duke.

Lord Mohun answered that he considered what he had said needed no

elucidation, and that he himself would accompany the Duke of

Marlborough as second.

He then took his leave, and Earl Pawlet returned home and confided to

his lady that he was going to fight a duel with the Duke of Marlborough.

The Countess, greatly alarmed for her lord's safety, gave notice of his

intention to the Earl of Dartmouth, who immediately, in the Queen's

name, sent for the Duke of Marlborough and commanded him not to stir

abroad. He also caused Earl Pawlet's house to be guarded by two

sentinels; and having taken these precautions, informed the Queen of

the whole affair. Her Majesty sent at once for the Duke, expressed her

abhorrence of the custom of duelling, and required his word of honour

that he would proceed no further. The Duke pledged his word accordingly,

and the affair terminated, much, doubtless, to the disappointment of

Lord Mohun, who took a delight in these passages of arms.

We come now to the last duel of Lord Mohun, in which he lost his life

and his title expired. The reader will recall the description given of

it in _Esmond_.

The Duke of Hamilton, a shuffling Jacobite, had been in constant

correspondence with the Court of S. Germain's, and with the numerous

agents of the Pretender kept scattered about in various parts of the

Continent and in England. Even before Mrs. Masham and Harley had

undermined the Whig ministry, Hamilton had been an acceptable visitor

at the Court of S. James's; but since the Tory party had got the upper

hand, he had been closeted far more frequently with the Queen than

before; and now he was appointed to represent Queen Anne at the French

Court. Burnet says: "The Duke of Hamilton being now appointed to go to

the Court of France gave melancholy speculation to those who thought

him much in the Pretender's interest; he was considered, not only in

Scotland, but here in England, as the head of his party." A few days

before he left for Versailles, his career was cut short. He had been

engaged in some law-suits with Lord Mohun over the succession to the

estates of the Earl of Macclesfield, and this, together with political

animosity, inflamed both these noblemen with deadly hatred towards

each other. Mohun took an occasion that offered of publicly insulting

the Duke, in the hope of making him the challenger. His Grace,

however, had too much contempt for the known character of the man to

enter into an idle dispute with him, especially at a time when he was

invested with the sacred character of ambassador. He relied on his own

reputation with the world to bear him out in declining to notice such

an affront, offered at such a time, and committed, as the Tories

asserted, under the influence of drink.

The circumstances of the insult were these. On Thursday, November 13th,

a party was assembled at the chambers of Mr. Orlebar, a master in

Chancery, when the Duke made some reflections on Mr. Whitworth, father

of the Queen's late ambassador to the Czar; whereat Lord Mohun roared

out that the Duke had neither truth nor justice in him. "Indeed, he has

just as much truth in him as your Grace!" The Duke of Hamilton made no

reply; and both parties remained at the table for half an hour after

this outbreak; and at parting Hamilton made a low bow to Mohun, who

returned the civility, so that none of those there present suspected any

consequence from what had passed between the two peers.

But Lord Mohun had determined to fight his private and political

adversary, and although he was the offender he next day sent a

challenge to the Duke by the hand of a friend, General Maccartney. In

the evening of the 14th the Duke, accompanied by Colonel John

Hamilton, went to meet General Maccartney at the Rose Tavern, in one

room, whilst in the adjoining Lord Mohun awaited Colonel Hamilton.

Then and there the time and place of the duel were agreed upon. On

Sunday morning, November 15th, at seven o'clock, Lord Mohun with his

second, General Maccartney, went in a hackney-coach to the lodge of

Hyde Park, where they alighted, and were soon after met by the Duke

of Hamilton and his second, Colonel Hamilton. They all jumped over a

ditch into a place called the Nursery. It is said that Lord Mohun did

not wish that the seconds should bear a part in the engagement, but

the Duke insisted, saying that "Mr. Maccartney should have a share in

the dance." But the spirit of party so completely seized hold of the

subject as to make it difficult to ascertain what were the real facts.

It is said on one side that the Duke was from the first very unwilling

to fight, and even at the last moment would have consented to a

reconciliation. According to the evidence given by Colonel Hamilton at

the inquiry on November 25th, early in the morning of the 15th, before

he was half dressed, the Duke called at his house and hurried him into

his chariot "so soon that he finished the buttoning of his waistcoat

there. By the time they had got into Pall Mall the Duke observed that

the Colonel had left his sword behind him; whereupon he stopt his

chariot and gave the footman a bunch of keys and orders to fetch a

mourning sword out of such a closet. At the return of the footman they

drove on to Hyde Park, where the coachman stopt, and the Duke ordered

him to drive on to Kensington. When they came to the lodge they saw a

hackney-coach at a distance, on which his Grace said, 'There was some

body he must speak with'; but driving up to it and seeing nobody he

asked the coachman, 'Where the gentlemen were whom he had brought?' he

answered 'A little before.' The Duke and the Colonel got out in the

bottom and walked over the pond's head, where they saw the Lord Mohun

and General Maccartney before them. As soon as the Duke came within

hearing he said, 'He hop'd he was come time enough,' and Maccartney

answered, 'In very good time, my Lord.' After this they all jumped over

the ditch into the Nursery, and the Duke turned to Maccartney and

told him, 'Sir, you are the cause of this, let the event be what it

will.' Maccartney said, 'We'll have our share.' Then the Duke answered,

'There is my friend then, he will take his share in my dance.'"

[Illustration: THE DUEL BETWEEN LORD MOHUN AND THE DUKE OF HAMILTON

_From a contemporary mezzotint in the British Museum_]

The Duke is said to have looked about him and remarked to his second,

"How grey and cold London looks this morning, and yet the sky is

almost cloudless." To which the Colonel replied, "It is through lack

of London smoke. London is nothing without its smoke."

The combat then commenced between the principals, and at a little

distance from them between the seconds.

The combat between the former was carried on with fury, and the clash of

steel called to the spot the keepers of the Park and a few stragglers

who were abroad there at this early hour--in all about nine or ten. None

of them interfered; they looked on as they might at a cock-fight.

In a short time the Duke was wounded in both legs, and his sword pierced

his antagonist through the groin, through the arm, and in sundry other

parts of the body. If they had thought little enough before of attending

to self-defence, they now seemed to abandon the idea altogether. Each at

the same moment made a desperate lunge at the other; and the Duke's

weapon passed right through his adversary's body up to the hilt. The

latter, according to one account, shortening his sword, plunged it into

the upper part of the Duke's left breast, the blade running downwards

into his belly. But there is another version of the story.

Meanwhile the seconds had been engaged, and Colonel Hamilton deposed:

"Maccartney had made a full pass at him, which he, parrying down with

great force, wounded himself in the instep; however, he took that

opportunity to close with and disarm Maccartney, which being done, he

turn'd his head, and seeing my Lord Mohun fall, and the Duke upon him,

he ran to the Duke's assistance; and that he might with the more ease

help him, he flung down both swords; and as he was raising my Lord Duke

up, he saw Maccartney make a push at his Grace"--this was explained to

be over his shoulder--and "he immediately look'd to see if he had

wounded him; but seeing no blood, he took up his sword, expecting

Maccartney would attack him again; but he walked off. Just as he was

gone came up the keepers and others, to the number of nine or ten, among

the rest Ferguson, my Lord Duke's steward, who had brought Bassiere's

man with him; who opening his Grace's breast, soon discovered a wound on

the left side, which came in between the left shoulder and pap, and went

slantingly down through the midriff into his belly. This wound is

thought impracticable for my Lord Mohun to give him."

Maccartney now took to his heels and fled, and tarried not till he was

secure in Holland.

Colonel Hamilton remained on the field, and surrendered himself to

arrest.

An attempt was made to remove the Duke to the Cake House, but he

expired on the grass. Lord Mohun also died on the spot.

In _The Examiner_, the Tory mouthpiece, the story is thus given: "The

affront was wholly given by Mohun, which the Duke, knowing him to be

drunk, did not resent. But the bravo Maccartney, who depended for his

support on the Lord Mohun, finding his pupil's reputation very much

blasted by those tame submissions, which his Lordship, mistaking his

man, had lately paid to Mr. D'Avenant, judg'd there was no way to set

him right in the coffee houses and the Kit-Cat but by a new quarrel,

and made choice of the Duke, a person of fifty-five, and very much

weaken'd by frequent attacks of gout. Maccartney was forc'd to keep up

his patron's courage with wine, till within a few hours of their

meeting in the field. And the mortal wound which the Duke receiv'd,

after his adversary was run thro' the heart, as it is probably

conjectured, could not be given by any but Maccartney. At least,

nothing can be charged on him which his character is not able to bear.

'Tis known enough, that he made an offer to the late King to murder a

certain person who was under his Majesty's displeasure; but that

Prince disdain'd the motion, and abhorred the proposer ever after.

However it be, the general opinion is that some very black

circumstances will appear in this tragedy, if a strict examination be

made; neither is it easy to account for three great wounds in the

Duke's legs, if he had fair play."

The sum of £800 was offered by the Government for the apprehension of

Maccartney.

Such would seem to be the facts, but the Colonel's statement, when

brought before the Council, was somewhat rambling. In the excitement

of the encounter he was not in a condition to judge accurately what

took place. Cunningham, a Whig, says that Hamilton, "being challenged

to a duel by the Lord Mohun, killed his antagonist; but was himself

also killed, as was supposed, by General Maccartney, Mohun's second."

Although the large sum mentioned was offered for the apprehension of

the General, he was safe in the Low Countries. However, some years

later he returned to England and was tried, but the jury gave a

verdict of "Manslaughter" against him.

A prodigious ferment was occasioned by the duel, and party

recriminations ran high. The stabbing of the Duke to the heart rested

mainly on the allegation of Colonel Hamilton, but at the trial he

prevaricated, and several persons who had seen the combat at a

distance directly contradicted some material points of his testimony.

Swift, in a letter to Mrs. Dingley on the day of the duel, says: "This

morning, at eight, my man brought me word that the Duke Hamilton had

fought with Lord Mohun and killed him, and was brought home wounded. I

immediately sent him to the Duke's house, in S. James's Square; but

the porter could hardly answer him for tears, and a great rabble was

about the house. In short, they fought at seven this morning. The dog

Mohun was killed on the spot; but while the Duke was over him, Mohun,

shortening his sword, stabbed him in at the shoulder to the heart. The

Duke was helped towards the Cake House by the Ring in Hyde Park (where

they fought), and died on the grass, before he could reach the house;

and was brought home in his coach by eight, while the poor Duchess was

asleep. I am told that a footman of Lord Mohun's stabbed Duke

Hamilton; and some say, Maccartney did so too. Mohun gave the affront,

and yet sent the challenge. I am infinitely concerned for the poor

Duke, who was a frank, honest, good-natured man. I loved him very

well; and I think he loved me better.... They have removed the poor

Duchess to a lodging in the neighbourhood, where I have been with her

two hours, and am just come away. I never saw so melancholy a scene,

for indeed all reasons of real grief belong to her; nor is it possible

for any one to be a greater loser in all regards. She has moved my

very soul. The lodging was inconvenient; and they would have removed

her to another; but I would not suffer it, because it had no room

backwards, and she must have been tortured with the noise of the Grub

Street screamers, singing her husband's murder in her ears."

But in his _History of the Four Last Years of the Queen_, written in

1713, Swift says: "The Duke was preparing for his journey, when he was

challenged to a duel by the Lord Mohun, a person of infamous

character. He killed his adversary on the spot, though he himself

received a wound; and, weakened by the loss of blood, as he was

leaning in the arms of his second, was most barbarously stabbed in the

breast by Lieutenant-General Maccartney. He died a few minutes after

in the field, and the murderer made his escape."

It is accordingly very doubtful whether the _coup de grâce_ was dealt

by Lord Mohun or by his second. With Lord Mohun, the barony of Mohun

of Okehampton became extinct; but the estate of Gawsworth, in

Cheshire, which he had inherited from Lord Macclesfield, was vested by

his will in his widow, and eventually passed to her second daughter by

her first husband, Anne Griffith, wife of the Right Honourable William

Stanhope, from whom it passed to the Earls of Harrington.

Boconnoc and the Devon and Cornish estates were sold in 1717 for

£54,000 to Thomas Pitt, commonly called Governor Pitt.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] The earl died on November 5th, 1701.

[19] _History of the Reign of Queen Anne_, Vol. XII, pp. 305-6 (1713).

THE LAST LORD CAMELFORD

Thomas Pitt was the son of a tradesman at Brentford, and he went to push

his fortunes in India as a merchant adventurer. There he obtained a

diamond, thought to be the finest known, and with it returned to

England, where he offered it for sale to Queen Anne, and ultimately sold

it to the Regent Duke of Orleans, for the French nation, for £135,000.

The Regent and his two successors in the government of France set this

diamond as an ornament in their hats on occasions of state. It was

stolen during the disturbances of the Revolution, but was recovered,

and Napoleon had it placed between the teeth of a crocodile, forming

the handle of his sword.

With about half the large sum obtained by the sale of the gem, Pitt

purchased the property of the last Lord Mohun in Cornwall, and settled

at Boconnoc. He also bought burgess tenures, giving the right of

franchise at Old Sarum, and represented that place in Parliament. He

had two sons, Robert and Thomas, and Robert succeeded his father at

Boconnoc. He married Harriet Villiers, third sister of John, Earl

Grandison, and died in May, 1727, leaving two sons, Thomas Pitt, and

William, who was afterwards created Earl of Chatham. Thomas Pitt, his

brother, was created Earl of Londonderry, in consequence of his

marrying the heiress of Ridgeway, in which family was the earldom.

Thomas Pitt, the eldest son of Robert, engaged in political intrigue,

and supported the party of Frederick, Prince of Wales. He married

Christiana, sister of George, first Lord Lyttleton, by whom he had one

son, Thomas, who was created Baron Camelford in 1784, when his first

cousin William Pitt rose to be Prime Minister. Thomas Pitt was aged

twenty-five when he became Baron Camelford, and he died in January,

1793, leaving a son, Thomas Pitt, the second and last Lord Camelford,

and a daughter, married to William Wyndham, Lord Grenville. Thomas

Pitt, son of the first baron, became an object of attention in

Cornwall almost from his birth.

On the event of his christening, in 1775, Boconnoc was thrown open to

the public, with general feasting and revelries and wrestling. A

silver bowl worth fifteen guineas was the prize of the best wrestler,

and about fifty pounds were distributed among the disappointed and

defeated competitors.

The education of Thomas Pitt was conducted at Boconnoc under a private

tutor, but having paid a visit to Plymouth at a time when naval

preparations were in full activity, he acquired a desire to go to sea.

However, he was sent to Berne to learn French and German, and then to

the Charter House. As he still manifested a strong desire for the sea,

he was admitted to the Royal Navy as a midshipman, at the age of

fourteen; and he sailed in the _Guardian_ frigate, commanded by Captain

Riou, laden with stores for the colony of convicts at Botany Bay. The

vessel became a wreck, and the commander gave permission to such of the

crew as chose to avail themselves of it to take to the boats and leave

her. But Lord Camelford, together with about ninety, resolved on abiding

with the vessel, with the captain, patching her up and navigating her.

After a perilous passage in the vessel to the Cape of Good Hope, Lord

Camelford, in September, 1790, arrived at Harwich in the _Prince of

Orange_ packet.

Undaunted by the privations and hardships he had undergone, he

solicited an appointment on the voyage of discovery conducted by

Captain Vancouver. He accompanied that officer, in the ship

_Discovery_, during part of his circumnavigation, but proved so

troublesome, headstrong, and disobedient to orders as to put Captain

Vancouver under the necessity of placing him under arrest.

He accordingly quitted the _Discovery_ in the Indian Seas, and entered

on board the _Resistance_, commanded by Sir Edward Pakenham, by whom

he was appointed lieutenant.

During his absence at sea his father had died, and when he returned to

England it was to succeed to the title and family estates. In October,

1796, he sent a challenge to Captain Vancouver, who replied with

dignity that he had acted according to his duty, to check

insubordination and to preserve discipline. He was, however, perfectly

willing to submit his conduct to the judgment of any flag officer in

His Majesty's Navy, and if the latter considered that he had

overstepped the bounds of what was right, then he would be prepared to

give Lord Camelford the satisfaction he desired. But this proposal did

not at all meet Lord Camelford's views, and he wrote threatening the

captain with personal chastisement. Shortly after, encountering him in

Bond Street, he would have struck him had not his brother interfered.

Having attained the rank of master and commander, Lord Camelford was

nominated to the command of the _Favourite_, a sloop. That vessel and

the _Perdrix_ were lying in harbour at Antigua on January 13th, 1790,

when Captain Fahil, of the _Perdrix_, was absent on shore, and had

left the charge of the ship to the first lieutenant, Mr. Peterson.

Lord Camelford then issued an order which Mr. Peterson refused to

obey, conceiving that his lordship was exceeding his authority in

giving a command to the representative of a senior officer.

The two ships were hauled alongside of each other in the dockyard to

be repaired, and the companies of each vessel collected round their

respective officers on the quay. High words ensued. Then twelve of the

crew of the _Perdrix_ arrived on the spot, armed. Mr. Peterson drew

them up in line, and placed himself at their head, with his sword

brandished in his hand. Lord Camelford at once called out his marines,

and, rushing off, borrowed a pistol from an officer of the dockyard,

and returning, in a threatening voice, asked Mr. Peterson if he still

refused obedience. "I do persist," replied the lieutenant. "You have

no right to issue the order." Thereupon Lord Camelford shot him

through the head, and he expired instantly. Lord Camelford at once

surrendered himself to Captain Watson, of the _Beaver_, sloop. In this

vessel Lord Camelford was conveyed to Fort Royal, Martinique, where a

court-martial assembled on board the _Invincible_. The court continued

to sit from the 20th to the 25th January, when they came to the

decision "that the very extraordinary and manifest disobedience of

Lieutenant Peterson to the lawful commands of Lord Camelford, the

senior officer at English Harbour at that time, and the violent

measures taken by Lieutenant Peterson to resist the same, by arming

the _Perdrix's_ ship's company, were acts of mutiny highly injurious

to his Majesty's service; the Court do therefore unanimously adjudge

that the said Lord Camelford be honourably acquitted, and he is

hereby unanimously and honourably acquitted accordingly."

After this his lordship reassumed the command of his ship, but for a

short while only, for he threw up his appointment and quitted the

naval profession. His personal appearance while in the service was

marked with eccentricity. His dress consisted of a lieutenant's plain

coat, without shoulder knots, and the buttons green with verdigris.

His head was closely shaved, and he wore no wig over it, only an

enormous gold-laced cocked hat.

Not long after his return to England, a crazy notion entered the head

of Lord Camelford, that he would go to Paris and assassinate some, if

not all, of the Directory. Accordingly, on the night of Friday, 18th

January, 1799, he proceeded by coach to Dover, where he arrived on the

following morning, and put up at the City of London Inn. After

breakfast he walked on the pier, and engaged a boat to convey him to

Deal. He came to terms with a boatman named Adams, and then confided

to him that he desired to be conveyed not to Deal but to Calais, where

he purposed disposing of some watches and other trinkets, and finally

bargained with him to be put across for twelve guineas. But his

lordship's conduct and manner of speech were so odd, that Adams deemed

it advisable to speak of the matter to Mr. Newport, the collector.

Newport advised that Adams and his brother should keep the

appointment, which was for six o'clock that evening, when he would be

there and investigate the affair. Accordingly, when Lord Camelford

entered the boat, he was arrested, and required to go with Newport to

the Secretary of State's office in London. They found on him, when

taken, a brace of pistols and a long, two-edged dagger. On Saturday,

the 18th January, at eleven at night, he was put in a post-chaise,

and escorted by Newport and the two Adamses to the Duke of Portland's

office, where he was recognized. A Privy Council was at once summoned,

and Mr. Pitt despatched a messenger to Lord Camelford's

brother-in-law, Lord Grenville, to come at once to town. His lordship

was examined along with Newport and the two Adamses, and the Council,

satisfied that he was crazy, discharged him.

Not long after this, he brought notice upon himself in another sort of

matter. On the night of the 2nd April, 1799, during the representation

of the farce _The Devil to Pay_, at Drury Lane Theatre, a riot took

place in the box-lobby, occasioned by the entrance of some gentlemen

in a state of intoxication, who began to demolish the chandeliers,

when Lord Camelford, as one of the ringleaders, was taken into

custody, charged by a Mr. Humphries with having knocked him down

repeatedly and nearly beaten out one of his eyes. For this he was sued

at the Court of King's Bench, and was condemned to pay £500.

In town Lord Camelford was incessantly embroiled with the watchmen,

and was either had up before the magistrates, or else obliged to bribe

the constables to let him off. He was a terror and a nuisance to quiet

citizens passing through the streets at night.

In 1801, when the return of peace was celebrated by a general

illumination, no persuasions of his landlord, a grocer in New Bond

Street, could induce him to have lights placed in the windows of his

apartments.

Consequently the mob assailed the house and smashed every pane of

glass in his windows. Whereupon his lordship sallied forth, armed with

a cudgel, and fell on the rabble, and was severely mauled by it,

rolled in the kennel, much beaten, and his clothes torn off his back.

As the illuminations were to be continued on succeeding nights, he

hired a party of sailors to defend his house.

One evening he entered a coffee-house in Conduit Street in shabby

costume, and sat down to peruse the paper. Shortly after a buck of the

first water came up, threw himself into the box opposite, and shouted

to the waiter to bring him a pint of Madeira and a couple of wax

candles. Till these arrived he coolly took to himself Lord Camelford's

candle, set himself to read.

Lord Camelford shouted to the waiter to fetch him a pair of snuffers,

and then walking into the fop's box extinguished his candle.

Boiling with rage, the indignant beau roared out, "Waiter! waiter! who

the deuce is that fellow who has insulted me?"

The waiter, coming up with the pint of Madeira and the desired

candles, replied, "Lord Camelford, sir."

"Lord Camelford!" shouted the dandy, jumped up, threw down his money,

and bolted without having tasted his Madeira.

For some time Lord Camelford had been acquainted with a Mrs. Simmons,

who had formerly lived under the protection of a Mr. Best, a friend of

his lordship. Some mutual acquaintance told him that Best had said

something slighting of him to this woman. This so exasperated Lord

Camelford that on March 6th, 1804, meeting Mr. Best in the Prince of

Wales's Coffee-house, he went up to him and said in threatening tones:

"I find, sir, that you have spoken of me in most unwarrantable terms."

Mr. Best replied that he was quite unconscious of having done so. Lord

Camelford, then speaking loud enough for every one present to hear,

declared that he knew well enough what Best had said to Mrs. Simmons,

and that he esteemed him, Best, to be "a scoundrel, a liar, and a

ruffian."

Best could do no other than send him a challenge, but with it an

assurance that his lordship had been misinformed, as no such words had

ever passed his lips. He expected, accordingly, that Lord Camelford

would acknowledge his mistake, and then all would be as before. But

Lord Camelford would listen to no explanation, and a meeting was

appointed to take place the following morning.

Lord Camelford went to his lodgings in Bond Street, and there wrote

his will, and added to it the following declaration: "There are many

other matters, which at another time I might be inclined to mention,

but I will say nothing more at present than that in the present

contest I am fully and entirely the aggressor, as well in the spirit

as in the letter of the word. Should I, therefore, lose my life in a

contest of my own seeking, I most solemnly forbid any of my friends or

relations, let them be of whatsoever description they may, from

instituting any vexatious proceedings against my antagonist; and

should, notwithstanding the above declaration on my part, the laws of

the land be put in force against him, I desire that this part of my

will may be made known to the King, in order that his royal heart may

be moved to extend his mercy towards him."

From this it would appear that Lord Camelford was convinced that he

had made a mistake, and no longer believed that Best had used the

expressions attributed to him. At the same time he was too proud to

admit that he had been mistaken, and submit to make a public apology.

His lordship quitted his lodgings between one and two on the morning

of Wednesday, the 7th March, and slept at a tavern, with a view to

avoid the officers of the police, should they get wind of the proposed

meeting and prevent it.

Agreeably to the appointment made by the seconds, Lord Camelford and

Mr. Best met early in the morning at a coffee-house in Oxford Street,

and here again Mr. Best made an attempt at a reconciliation, and

renewed the assurance that he never had uttered the words reported to

have been said by him. "Camelford," said he, "we have been friends,

and I know the unsuspecting generosity of your nature. Upon my honour,

you have been imposed upon by a strumpet. Do not insist on prosecuting

a quarrel in which one of us must fall."

To this Lord Camelford replied, "Best, this is child's play! the thing

must go on."

Mr. Best was esteemed the best shot in England, and his lordship

dreaded, should he retract the offensive words used by himself at the

coffee-house, that malicious folk might say he did it out of fear.

Accordingly his lordship and Mr. Best, on horseback, took the road to

Kensington, followed by a post-chaise, in which were the two seconds.

On their arrival at the "Horse and Groom," about a quarter to eight,

the parties dismounted, and proceeded along the path leading to the

fields behind Holland House. The seconds measured the ground, and they

took their station at the distance of thirty paces. Lord Camelford

fired first, but missed his aim. A space of some seconds intervened,

and then Best fired; whereupon Lord Camelford fell.

The seconds, together with Mr. Best, at once ran to his assistance,

when he is said to have grasped the hand of his antagonist, and to

have said, "Best, I am a dead man; you have killed me, but I freely

forgive you."

The report of the pistols had attracted attention, and several persons

were seen running up, whereupon Best and his second got into the

post-chaise and drove off at a gallop.

One of Lord Holland's gardeners now approached, and Lord Camelford's

second ran to summon a surgeon, Mr. Thompson, of Kensington, and bring

him to the spot.

Meanwhile the gardener hallooed to his fellows to stop the

post-chaise; but the dying man interposed, saying "that he did not

wish them to be arrested; he was himself the aggressor, and he forgave

the gentleman as he trusted that God would forgive him."

Meanwhile a sedan-chair was procured, and his lordship was conveyed to

Little Holland House, the residence of a Mr. Ottey, and a messenger

was despatched to the Rev. W. Cockburne, Lord Camelford's cousin, to

inform him as to what had taken place. That gentleman at once

communicated with the police, and then hurried to his noble relative.

By this time others had arrived, Mr. Knight, the domestic surgeon of

his lordship, and his most intimate friend, Captain Barrie. The wound

was examined, and was pronounced to be mortal.

Lord Camelford continued in agonies of pain during the whole day, when

laudanum was administered, and he was able to obtain some sleep during

the night, so that in the morning he felt easier.

During the second day his spirits revived, and he conversed with those

about his bed. The surgeons, however, could not give the smallest hope

of recovery. To the Rev. W. Cockburne, who remained with him till he

expired, his lordship expressed his confidence in the mercy of God;

and he said that he received much comfort from the reflection that he

felt no ill-will against any man. In the moments of his greatest pain

he cried out that he trusted the sufferings he endured might be

accepted as some expiation for the crimes of his life.

He lingered, free from acute pain, from Thursday till Saturday

evening, about half-past eight, when mortification set in and he

breathed his last.

On the evening of his decease an inquest was held on the body, and a

verdict of wilful murder returned against "some person or persons

unknown."

Thereupon a bill of indictment was preferred against Mr. Best and his

second, but this was ignored by the grand jury.

As Thomas, the second Baron Camelford, died without issue, Boconnoc

passed to his sister, Lady Grenville.

A life of Lord Camelford, with portrait, was published in London

(Mace, New Russell Court, Strand), 1804.

The Rev. W. Cockburne also wrote _An Authentic Account of the late

Unfortunate Death of Lord Camelford_, London (J. Hatchard), 1804. As

in this he animadverted on the negligence of the magistrates in not

preventing the duel, Mr. Cockburne was answered by one of them, Philip

New, in _A Letter to the Rev. Wm. Cockburne_, London (J. Ginger,

Piccadilly), 1804.

WILLIAM NOYE

Cornwall has no great cause to boast of William Noye as her son. He

was undoubtedly a shrewd, subtle, and learned lawyer; but he was

wholly without principle and consistency.

He was the son of Edward Noye, of Carnanton, in Mawgan parish, and

grandson of William Noy, or Noye, of Pendrea, in Buryan. He was born at

this latter place, it is asserted, in 1577. In 1593 he entered Exeter

College, Oxford, and thence removed to Lincoln's Inn to study common

law. He represented Grampound in Parliament 1603-14, Fowey 1623-5, S.

Ives 1625-7, Helston 1627-31. In Parliament he proved himself an able

and determined opponent to the encroachment of the Royal prerogative.

Hals says: "In the beginning of the reyne of King Charles I he was

specially famous for beinge one of the boldest and stoutest champions of

the subjects' liberty in Parliament that the western parts of England

afforded; which beinge observed by the Court party, Kinge Charles was

advised by his Cabinet Councill that it wold be a prudent course to

divert the force and power of Noye's skill, logick, and rhetorique

another waye, by givinge him som Court preferment. Whereupon Kinge

Charles made him his Attorney-General, 1631, by which expedient he was

soon metamorphized from an asserter of the subjects' liberty and

property to a most zealous and violent promoter of the despotick and

arbitrary prerogative or monarchy of his Prince; soe that like the

image of Janus at Rome, he looked forward and backward, and by means

thereof greatly enriched himself.--Amongst other things, he is reflected

upon by our chronologers for beinge the principal contriver of the

ship-money tax, layd by Kinge Charles upon his subjects for settinge

forth a navye, or fleet of shipps at sea, without the consent of Lords

or Commons in Parliament, which moneys were raysed by writt of the

sheriffs of all countys and commissioners, and for a long tyme brought

into the exchequer twenty thousand pound per mensem, to the greate

distast of the Parliament, the layety, and clergye, who declard against

it as an unlawfull tax."

Noye's appointment as Attorney-General was on October 27th, 1631. He was

not the only one who was a turncoat. Sir Thomas Wentworth, afterwards

created Earl of Strafford, Sir Dudley Digges, and Littleton also

apostatized. Wentworth, the most renowned of the set, after being one of

the sturdiest of the reformers and boldest declaimers in the House of

Commons--after suffering imprisonment for refusing to contribute to the

forced loan--this eminent person, a gentleman of Yorkshire, who boasted

his descent, by bastardy, from the royal line of the Plantagenets, out

of a very ignoble rivalry and an ambition for rank and title (even his

friends could discover no purer motives), sold himself body and soul to

the Court. Sir Dudley Digges, though a spirited debater and a man of

talent, had been known for some time to be without principle, and, upon

being offered the post of Master of the Rolls, he closed at once with

the bargain and turned round upon his former friends.

Noye and Littleton were both distinguished lawyers. Noye's _Treatise

of the Principall Grounds and Maximes_ _of the Laws of this

Kingdom_ has gone through numerous editions down to 1870. His

_Compleat Lawyer_ has also been republished frequently. Noye as

Attorney-General, and Littleton as Solicitor-General, now used their

wits and their knowledge to explain and stretch the prerogative, and

they did this apparently without a blush at the recollection of their

previous conduct when they had combated for the rights of Parliament

and the liberties of the people.

[Illustration: SIR WILLIAM NOYE, ATTORNEY GENERAL TO KING CHARLES THE

FIRST]

Among Howell's _Familiar Letters_ is one to Sir Arthur Ingram at York.

"Our greatest news here now is, that we have a new Attorney-General,

which is news indeed, considering the humour of the man, how he hath

been always ready to entertain any cause whereby he might clash with

the Prerogative: but now Judg Richardson told him, his head full of

Proclamations and Decrees, how to bring money into the Exchequer. He

hath lately found out amongst the old records of the Tower some

precedents for raising a tax called Ship-Money in all the Port-Towns

when the kingdom is in danger. Whether we are in danger or no, at

present 'twere presumption in me to judg."

That England needed a fleet to protect her could not be disputed.

Howell admits as much. "One with half an eye may see we cannot be

secure while such large fleets of men-of-war, both Spanish, French,

Dutch, and Dunkirkers, some of them laden with ammunition, men, arms,

and armies, do daily sail on our seas and confront the King's chambers

(guns), while we have only three or four ships abroad to guard our

coast and kingdom, and to preserve the fairest flower of the crown,

the dominion of the Narrow Sea, which I hear the French Cardinal

begins to question, and the Hollander lately would not vail to one of

His Majesties ships that brought over the Duke of Lenox and my Lord

Weston from Bullen (Boulogne); and indeed we are jeer'd abroad that we

send no more ships to guard our seas."[20]

Dunkirk was peculiarly obnoxious, as it was a nest of pirates that fell

on our small trading vessels, and even Algerines came with impunity to

our coasts and carried off captives as slaves in Africa. The Dutch,

taking advantage of the domestic broils in England, had greatly advanced

their commerce, and were prepared to dispute with England the command of

the Channel. They excluded English vessels from the northern fisheries,

and went so far as to claim and to exercise the right of fishing along

the English coasts. The Navy of France, moreover, was also rapidly

augmented, under the fostering care of Richelieu.

Hitherto the ports on the coast had contributed towards the defence of

the land and the protection of our shipping, but the inland towns had

been exempted. This was not reasonable, and Charles resolved on

imposing a general tax to provide England with a fleet. He had

recourse to Noye instead of placing the matter before Parliament.

Noye, says Clarendon, "was wrought upon by degrees by the great

persons that steered the public affairs to be an instrument in all

their designs, turning his learning and industry to the discovery of

sources of revenue, and to the justifying them when found--thinking

that he could not give a clearer testimony that his knowledge of the

law was greater than all other men's, than by making that law which

all other men believed to be not so. So he moulded, framed, and

pursued the odious and crying project of soap, and with his own hand

drew and prepared the writ for ship-money, both which will be lasting

monuments of his fame."

About the soap monopoly presently.

The first writ was issued by the Lords of the Council "for the

assessing and levying of the ship-money against this next spring," on

the 20th October, 1634. It was signed by the King, and was addressed

to the mayor, commonalty and citizens of London, and to the sheriffs

and good men in the said city and in the liberties thereof. They were

commanded by the 1st March to provide one ship of war of 900 tons with

350 men at the least, one other ship of war of 800 tons and 260 men at

the least, four other ships of war of 500 tons with 200 men in each,

and another ship of war of 300 tons with 150 men. They were further

ordered to supply those ships with guns, powder, and all necessary

arms, with double tackling, provisions, and stores; as also to defray

at their charges the men's wages for twenty-six weeks. The Common

Council remonstrated, declaring that by their ancient liberties they

ought to be free from any such burden; but the Privy Council rejected

the remonstrance, and compelled submission.

At the beginning of the following year, 1635, the writs, after having

been served along the sea-board, were sent to the inland counties, but

from them money was asked in lieu of ships at the rate of £3300 for

every ship, and the local magistrates were empowered to assess all the

inhabitants for a contribution.

In spite of the resistance offered to the exaction of this tax in 1635

and the following year a fleet was raised, the Dutch fishing vessels

were driven from the coast, and a number of English slaves were

rescued from Moorish pirates.

Howell wrote to Mr. Philip Warwick in Paris:[21] "The greatest news we

have here is that we have a gallant Fleet Royal ready to set to sea for

the security of our Coasts and Commerce, and for the sovereignty of our

seas. Hans (the Hanseatic League) said the King of England was asleep

all the while, but now he is awake. Nor, do I hear, doth your French

Cardinal tamper any longer with our King's title and right to the

dominion of the Narrow Seas. These are brave fruits of the Ship-Money."

The King was still in great straits for money, and he turned for help

to Noye. The Parliament had insisted on the suppression of monopolies,

but Charles revived them by Noye's advice; and for the sum of £10,000

which they paid for their patent, and for a duty of £8 upon every ton

of soap they should make, he granted to a company a charter according

to it the exclusive privilege to make and to sell soap. The patent had

a proviso in it permitting every soap-boiler then exercising his trade

in England to become a member of the chartered company; and that

precious turncoat, Noye, who devised the project, considered that in

this way he had evaded the letter of the law, as the Act of Parliament

forbidding monopolies had been directed against individuals and

against some two or three monopolists favoured by the Court. These

incorporated soap-boilers, as part of their bargains, received powers

to appoint searchers; and they exercised a sort of inquisition over

the trade. Such dealers as resisted their interference, or tried to

make soap on their own account, were handed over to the tender mercies

of the Star Chamber.

This precedent was followed by the creation of a similar company of

starch-makers.

The King and Laud, who had been promised the primacy on the death of

Archbishop Abbot, were embarked together on an evil course. Laud

believed in the Divine Right of Kings, and he was a man totally devoid

of suavity of manner and of breadth of mind. He would compel all men to

think as he thought, and act as he chose. That wheat and tares should

grow together till the harvest was a doctrine of the Gospel he could not

comprehend, and his energies and power were directed towards the

forcible uprooting of the tares in the field of the Church, and the

tares were the heterodox Puritans. Between him and the King they would

allow no liberty to men either in their bodies and goods, or in their

souls and consciences. That there should be crabbed and crooked sticks

Laud would not allow; all must be clean and straight as willow wands. To

the civil despotism alone as exercised by Charles, the English people

might possibly have submitted for some time longer, for the ship-money

had produced the desired effect; but the scourge of Laud lashed them to

fury. And Noye was the scourge Laud employed in the Star Chamber. Hammon

Le Strange, in his _Life of King Charles I_, says that Noye became so

servilely addicted to the King's prerogative, by ferreting out old penal

statutes and devising new exactions, that he was the most pestilential

vexation of the subject that the age produced.

When William Prynne, a barrister of Lincoln's Inn, was brought (1634)

before the Star Chamber to answer for his book _Histrio-Mastix, or the

Players' Scourge_, it was Noye who filed information against him.

Prynne attacked all plays, masques, and dances. The offence charged

against him was this: "Although he knew that His Majesty's royal

Queen, the Lords of the Council, etc. were in festivals oftentimes

present spectators of some masques and dances, and many recreations

that were tolerable and in themselves sinless, and so declared to be

by a book printed in the time of His Majesty's royal father; yet Mr.

Prynne, in his book, hath railed not only against stage-plays,

comedies, dancings, and all other exercises of the people, and against

all such as frequent or behold them; but further, in particular,

against hunting, public festivals, Christmas-keeping, bond-fires, and

May-poles; nay, even against the dressing up of houses with green

ivy." He was further accused of directly casting aspersions upon the

Queen, and of stirring up the people to discontent against the King,

whom he had spoken of in "terms unfit for so sacred a person."

The whole tenor of the book, according to Noye, was not less against

the Church of England than against these amusements, and their Sacred

Majesties for countenancing them. "The music in the Church," said the

Attorney-General, "the charitable terms he giveth it is, not to be a

noise of men, but rather a bleating of bruit beasts; choristers bellow

the tenor as it were oxen, bark a counter-point as a kennel of dogs,

roar out a treble like a sort of bulls, grunt out a bass as it were a

number of hogs ... also his general censure of all the bishops and of

all the clergy; they scorn to feed the poor--these silk and satin

divines. Very charitable terms upon those of the Church. Christmas, as

it is kept, is a devil's Christmas--nay, he doth bestow a great number

of pages to make men affect the name of Puritan, as though Christ were

a Puritan, and so he saith in his Index."

The fact was Prynne was a narrow-minded, cantankerous fanatic, whose

only idea of religion was of an acrid nature, and who looked upon all

entertainments as wicked. He complained that forty thousand playbooks

had been sold in London, and that there was no keen demand for printed

sermons; that Ben Jonson's plays and poems had been published on

better paper than Bibles.

Instead of treating Prynne, as a religious maniac, with good-humoured

contempt, he was sentenced by the Star Chamber to pay £10,000, be

branded on the forehead, have his nostril slit, and his ears cropped.

This infamous sentence was executed, and then Prynne was sent to the

Fleet, where he was to endure imprisonment till he retracted and

apologized. So far from apologizing, he sent from the Fleet to Laud a

stinging letter about the Star Chamber sentences, which letter Laud

showed to the King, and then, by the King's command, showed it to

Noye. Noye had Prynne forthwith brought to his chamber, exhibited the

letter, and asked him whether he acknowledged his handwriting. Prynne

replied that he could not tell unless he were allowed a close

inspection of it. The letter being then placed in his hands, and Mr.

Attorney Noye having retired to his closet for a pressing necessity,

Prynne, when his back was turned, tore it to shreds and threw the

scraps out of the window. Noye then brought Prynne again before the

Star Chamber, but Laud now interfered, and urged that the matter of

the insulting letter might not be pressed against him.

In 1636, as soon as he could get hold of ink and paper, this

incorrigible pamphleteer published fresh attacks on the bishops, among

others _News from Ipswich_, under the name of Matthew White. He was

again dragged before the Star Chamber, and was fined £5000 and ordered

to lose the rest of his ears, to be branded on both cheeks with "S.

L." for "Seditious Libeller." Noye, however, had no part in this final

persecution; nor did he live to see the results to the King of the

course he had recommended and which had been pursued.

His health began to fail, and he went to Tunbridge Wells to drink the

waters. They, however, did him no good, and he died on the 9th August,

1635, at the Wells, and was buried in New Brentford Church on the

ensuing 11th August.

Howell, in a letter to Viscount Savage dated 1st October, 1635, wrote:

"The old steward of your Courts, Master Attorney-General Noy, is

lately dead, nor could Tunbridge Waters do him any good. Though he had

good matter in his brain, he had, it seems, ill materials in his body,

for his heart was shrivelled like a leather penny-purse when he was

dissected, nor were his lungs found.

"Being such a Clerk in the Law, all the world wonders he left such an

odd will, which is short and in Latin. The substance of it is, that he

having bequeathed a few Legacies, and left his second son one hundred

marks a year, and nine hundred pounds in money, enough to bring him up

in his Father's Profession, he concludes: _Reliqua meorum omnia

primogenito meo Edwardo, dissipanda nec melius unquam (speravi) lego_:

I leave the rest of my goods to my firstborn Edward (mistake for

Humphry), to be consum'd or scattered (for I never hoped better). A

strange, and scarce a Christian Will, in my opinion, for it argues

uncharitableness. Nor doth the world wonder lesse, that he should

leave no Legacy to some of your Lordship's children, considering what

deep obligations he had to your Lordship; for I am confident he had

never bin Attorney-General else."

Hals tells this story of Noye: "The Attorney-General on a day havinge

King Charles I and the principal officers and nobilitie of his court,

at a dinner at his house in London, at which tyme the arch poet Ben

Jonson, and others being at an inne, on the other side the street;

and wantinge both meate and money for their subsistance, at that

exigent resolved to trye an expedient, to gett his dinner from the

Attorney-General's table, in order to which, by the landlord of the

inne aforesaid, he sent a white timber plate or trencher to him, when

the King was sate downe to table, whereon was inscribed these words:--

When the world was drown'd

Nor deer was found,

Because there was noe park;

And here I sitt,

Without e're a bitt,

Cause Noah hath all in his Arke.

Which plate beinge presented by the Attorney-Generall to the Kinge,

produced this effect; that Jonson had a good dish of venison sent him

back by the bearer to his great content and satisfaction, on which

aforesaid plate, by the King's direction, Jonson's rhymes were thus

inverted or contradicted:--

When the world was drown'd

There deer was found,

Although there was noe park;

I send thee a bitt,

To quicken thy witt,

Which com' from Noya's Ark.

William Noye anagram, I Moyle in law. He was the blowcoal incendiary

or stirrer up of the occasion of the civill wars between Kinge Charles

and his Parliament, by assertinge and setting up the King's

prerogative to the highest pitch, as King James I had done before,

beyond the laws of the land as aforesaid. And as counsill for the

Kinge he prosecuted for Kinge Charles I the imprisoned members of the

House of Commons, 1628, viz. Sir John Ellyot, Mr. Coryton and others."

Noye died in 1638. Hals adds: "He had the principal hand in the most

oppressive expedients for raising money for the King, and seems not to

have had the least notion of public spirit. He was, in a word, a man

of an enlarged head and a contracted heart."

His portrait, formerly possessed by Davies Gilbert,[22] has been

engraved in Polwhele's _Biographical Sketches in Cornwall_. The eldest

son, Edward, was killed in a duel by Captain Byron in France in 1636,

and then Carnanton passed to his brother Humphrey, a colonel in King

Charles' army, and Commissioner of the Peace for the County of

Cornwall. He married Hester, daughter of Henry Sandys, and sister and

coheiress of George Lord Sandys of the Vine. He was as worthless a

fellow as his elder brother Edward, and William Noye, the father,

foresaw the ruin of the family estates to whichever of his sons they

fell; for, in default of male issue, they were to go to Humphrey Noye,

not Edward as Howell states. Humphrey by his bad conduct, riot and

excess, lost all the estate left him by his father except Carnanton,

and for many years lived on the charity of his friends and on

dishonest tricks; for being a magistrate and generally chairman at the

sessions, he took bribes to pervert judgment; acquitting felons, etc.,

till at last he was detected and struck out of the Commission. Hals

says: "After which growinge scandalous for these and other

misdemeanours, he was slighted by his former friends, and put to great

hardships to get a subsistance necessary for the life of man (his

creditors beinge upon mortgages in possession of his whole estate).

However, it happened some time before his death, that upon puttinge

his hand and seale with his creditors for conveying the manor of Amell

and Trylly in Penwith to his son-in-lawe, Mr. Davies, on marrying

with his daughter Katherine, he had by them pay'd him in cash £100 in

consideration thereof. Soon after the receipt of which money he

sicken'd and dyed at Thomas Wills' house in S. Colomb Towne, and left

£80 in cash, about the yeare 1683; which was more money than he was

possest of at one tyme for about twenty yeares before; and the last

words that he was heard to speake, as his soule passed out of this

life, was: 'Lord, where am I goinge now?'"

Humphrey Noye had two sons, but both predeceased him and died without

issue. His daughter Hester married Henry Davies, of Buryan, and had by

him a son, William, who left issue two daughters only.

Catherine, the second daughter, married in 1679 William Davies, of

Bosworgy, who by her left issue John Davies of Ednovean, whose

daughter Catherine married the Rev. Edward Giddy, whose son Davies

Giddy assumed the name and arms of Gilbert.

The third daughter, Bridgeman, married John Willyams, of Roxworthy,

but died childless. After her death Willyams married Dorothy, daughter

of Peter Daye, gent., and by her had issue, and the family of Willyams

to this day possesses Carnanton.

The arms of Noye are _azure_, three crosses crosslets, in bend,

_argent_.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] _Familiar Letters_, ed. 1678, p. 233.

[21] _Familiar Letters_, p. 239. It is wrongly dated, June, 1634, in

place of 1636. The dates to the letters were in many cases arbitrarily

assigned by the publisher.

[22] Now by Carew Davies Gilbert, Esq., of Trelisseck.

WILLIAM LEMON

William Lemon was the son of a William Lemon, of Germoe, in humble

circumstances; he was baptized at Breage, 15th November, 1696; his

mother's maiden name was Rodda. As a lad he obtained a smattering of

knowledge at a village school, sufficient to enable him to enter an

office as clerk to a Mr. Coster. The story was told of him that as a

boy he had formed one link of a living chain, which, connected only by

the grasp of their hands, extended itself into a tremendous surf, and

rescued several persons who had been shipwrecked.

Whilst still young he became manager of a tin-smelting house at

Chiandower, near Penzance, and speedily acquired a great knowledge of

mining in Cornwall. In 1724 he married Isabella Vibert, of

Tolver-in-Gulval, and with her received a sufficient fortune[23] to

enable him to indulge in speculations in mines, and these turned out

so happily that he embarked still further in mining ventures. He was

the first who conceived the project of working the mines upon a grand

scale, and not of running them by small bands of adventurers. A new

era in mining opened with the introduction of the steam-pump, and the

first, invented by Newcomen, of Dartmouth, was used in the Great Work

at Breage. William Lemon associated with himself George Blewett, of

Marazion, and a Mr. Dewin, and these three commenced working a mine on

a farm called Truvel, in Ludgvan, the property of Lord Godolphin, and

named Wheal Fortune, where the second steam-engine was employed.

[Illustration: _Engraved by J M Meys_

_To Sir William Lemon Bart. M.P. for Cornwalle_

_This Plate of his_ Grand-Father

William Lemon Esq^r.

is inscribed by R. POLWHELE]

Mr. Lemon is said to have realized £10,000 out of Wheal Fortune, and

this enabled him to extend his operations. He removed to Truro, and

commenced working the great Gwennap Mines on a scale unprecedented in

Cornwall. Carnan Adit was either actually commenced, or at least was

effectively prosecuted, by Mr. Lemon; and as his means increased he

soon became the principal merchant and tin-smelter in Cornwall.

But he was keenly alive to his deficient education. He was shrewd,

could calculate, but had no knowledge of English literature, and his

spelling was remarkable. However, he set vigorously to work to correct

his defects, and late in life placed himself under the tuition of Mr.

Conon, master of the Truro Grammar School, and even acquired a

certain--not, certainly, very extensive--knowledge of Latin.

Mr. Lemon had a favourite tame Cornish chough that would always obey

his call. If he were walking on Truro Green, or through the streets,

the chough would fly to him instantly at his whistle, though it had

been associating with other birds or perched on a house-top.

It so happened that John Thomas, afterwards the Warden of the

Stannaries, but then a boy at Conon's school, taking his gun, contrary

to the rules of the school, and going out shooting, unluckily killed the

chough. This produced a great outcry, and when he was told that this was

Mr. Lemon's favourite bird, he strongly suspected that the least

punishment he would receive would be a flogging from his schoolmaster

and a hiding as well from Mr. Lemon. But Thomas took courage, went to

Mr. Lemon's house, knocked at the door, was admitted to Mr. Lemon, and

trembling and in tears confessed what he had done. Mr. Lemon paused a

moment, and then said that he was sorry for the poor bird, but freely

forgave the little delinquent on account of his candour in acknowledging

his fault, and more than that, he promised to keep it a secret, and if

it should reach Conon's ears, would intercede for him.

In 1742 he was Sheriff for the county. He became one of the Truro

magistrates, and might, had he cared for it, have been elected as a

member for one or other of the Cornish boroughs.

He was author of a lucid argument written to Sir Robert Walpole to

obtain the withdrawal of a tax levied on coals, and which acted

prejudicially on the Cornish mines. The presentation of this memorial

is thought to have been instrumental in obtaining for him, from

Frederick, Prince of Wales, a grant of all minerals found in Cornwall,

with the exception of tin; and the Prince likewise sent him a present

of silver plate.

He bought Carclew in 1749, and died at Truro, 25th March, 1760, in the

sixty-third year of his life.

He and his wife had one son only, William Lemon, junior, who died some

years before his father, leaving two sons and a daughter. The elder,

Sir William Lemon, Bart.,[24] represented the county of Cornwall in

Parliament during fifty years.

As an instance of the respect paid to the genius, and above all the

wealth of Mr. Lemon, the people of Truro are said to have drawn back

from their doors and windows as he passed through the street, and the

Rev. Samuel Walker, when exhorting children at catechizing to be

circumspect in the presence of Almighty God, said: "Only think, dear

children, how careful you would be if Mr. Lemon were looking upon you."

Sir William's eldest son, Major William Lemon, shot himself at Princes

Street, Hanover Square, London, early in 1799, when a young man of

only twenty-five.

The baronetcy is now extinct, and Carclew is the residence and

property of Captain W. Tremayne.

FOOTNOTES:

[23] It came to her by bequest of her godmother, Mrs. Elizabeth Noles,

who had acquired a fortune by business at Chiandower.

[24] Created Baronet 3rd May, 1774.

SAMUEL DREW

The life of Samuel Drew was written by his eldest son, and published

by Longman, Rees, and Co. in 1834. It is a volume of 534 pages, and

probably few would be disposed to wade through it. Of his early days

by far the brighter account is that furnished by himself to Mr. R.

Polwhele; but the son supplies some anecdotes that may be quoted.

"I was born on the 3rd March, 1765, in an obscure cottage in the

parish of S. Austell, about a mile and a half distant from the town.

My father was a common labourer, and had through mere dint of manual

labour to provide for himself, a wife, and four children, of whom I

was the second. One child died in infancy, and at the age of nine

years[25] I had the misfortune to lose my mother." Rather more than a

year before the death of Mrs. Drew, Samuel was set to work at a

neighbouring stamping-mill as a _buddle-boy_, and for his services his

father received three-halfpence a day, but this was raised later to

twopence, the largest sum Samuel realized in that employment, though

he continued to work at it for more than two years.

[Illustration: SAMUEL DREW]

Not long after the death of his wife, Samuel's father took a woman named

Bate into the house, to act as housekeeper; and in the second year of

his widowhood he married her, to the disgust of his children. When

she was entertaining her friends and gossips at tea after the wedding,

Samuel discharged a syringeful of water over the party. This was more

than she could put up with, and Samuel had to be sent away and

apprenticed to a shoemaker named Baker, in the parish of S. Blazey.

He says himself: "My father, being exceedingly poor, felt much

embarrassment in finding a premium to give to my master, with whom, at

the age of ten years and a half, I was bound an apprentice for nine

years, which length of time, together with five pounds five shillings,

was considered by my master as a suitable bargain. It was at this tender

age that I bid adieu to my father's habitation, and as a place of

residence have never entered it since. The little knowledge of writing

which I had acquired from my father was almost entirely lost during my

apprenticeship; I had, however, an opportunity at intervals of perusing

Goadby's _Weekly Entertainer_, and used to puzzle my little head about

riddles and enigmas, and felt much pleasure in perusing the anecdotes

which were occasionally interspersed through the pages."

Whilst at the shoemaker's a curious incident occurred: "There were

several of us, boys and men, out about twelve o'clock on a bright

moonlight night. I think we were poaching. The party were in a field

adjoining the road leading from my master's to S. Austell, and I was

stationed outside the hedge to watch and give the alarm if any

intruder should appear. While thus occupied I heard what appeared to

be the sound of a horse approaching from the town, and I gave a

signal. My companions paused and came to the hedge where I was, to see

the passenger. They looked through the bushes, and I drew myself close

to the hedge, that I might not be observed. The sound increased, and

the supposed horseman seemed drawing near. The clatter of the hoofs

became more and more distinct. We all looked to see who and what it

was, and I was seized with a strange, indefinable feeling of dread;

when, instead of a horse, there appeared coming towards us, at an easy

pace, but with the same sound which first caught my ear, a creature

about the height of a large dog. It went close by me, and as it

passed, it turned upon me and my companions huge fiery eyes that

struck terror to all our hearts. The road where I stood branched off

in two directions, in one of which there was a gate across. Towards

the gate it moved, and, without any apparent obstruction, went on at

its regular trot, which we heard several minutes after it had

disappeared. Whatever it was, it put an end to our occupation, and we

made the best of our way home.

"I have often endeavoured in later years, but without success, to

account, on natural principles, for what I then heard and saw. As to the

facts, I am sure there was no deception. It was a night of unusual

brightness, occasioned by a cloudless full moon. The creature was unlike

any animal I had then seen, but from my present recollections it had

much the appearance of a bear, with a dark shaggy coat. Had it not been

for the unearthly lustre of its eyes, and its passing through the gate

as it did, there would be no reason to suppose it anything more than an

animal perhaps escaped from some menagerie. That it did pass through the

gate without pause or hesitation I am perfectly clear. Indeed, we all

saw it, and saw that the gate was shut, from which we were not distant

more than twenty or thirty yards. The bars were too close to admit the

passage of an animal of half its apparent bulk; yet this creature went

through without effort or variation of its pace."

He was roughly and cruelly treated by his master, who would beat him

with the last, and at one time for a while maimed him. At length he

felt that he could endure the bondage no more, and with sixteen-pence

ha'penny in his pocket he ran away with the intention of going to

Plymouth and seeking a berth on board a man-of-war.

At this time Sam's father was in somewhat better circumstances. He was

chiefly employed in what was called _riding Sherborne_. There was at

that time scarcely a bookseller in Cornwall; and the only newspaper

known among the common people was the _Sherborne Mercury_, published

weekly by Goadby and Co., who also issued the _Weekly Entertainer_.

The papers were not sent by post, but by private messengers, who were

termed _Sherborne men_. Drew, senior, was one of these. Between

Plymouth and Penzance were two stages on the main road, each about

forty miles; and there were branch riders, in different directions,

who held regular communication with each other and with the

establishment at Sherborne. Their business was to deliver the

newspapers, _Entertainers_, and any books that had been ordered, to

collect the money, and to take fresh orders. Mr. Drew's stage was from

S. Austell to Plymouth. He always set off on his journey early on

Monday morning and returned on Wednesday.

When Samuel Drew had made up his mind to run away, he did not choose

the direct road for fear of encountering his father, but took that by

Liskeard.

"I went on through the night, and feeling fatigued, went into a

hay-field and slept. My luggage was no encumbrance; as the whole of my

property, besides the clothes I wore, was contained in a small

handkerchief. Not knowing how long I should have to depend on my

slender stock of cash, I found it necessary to use the most rigid

economy. Having to pass over either a ferry or toll-bridge, for which

I had to pay a halfpenny, feeling my present situation, and knowing

nothing of my future prospects, this small call upon my funds

distressed me, I wept as I went on my way. The exertion of walking and

the fresh morning air gave me a keener appetite than I thought it

prudent to indulge. I, however, bought a penny loaf, and with a

halfpenny-worth of milk in a farmer's house ate half of my loaf for

breakfast. In passing through Liskeard my attention was attracted by a

shoemaker's shop, in the door of which a respectable-looking man, whom

I supposed to be the master, was standing. Without any intention of

seeking employment in this place, I asked him if he could give me

work; and he, taking compassion, I suppose, on my sorry appearance,

promised to employ me the next morning. Before I could go to work

tools were necessary; and I was obliged to lay out a shilling on

these. Dinner, under such circumstances, was out of the question; for

supper I bought another halfpenny-worth of milk, ate the remainder of

my loaf, and for a lodging again had recourse to the fields. The next

morning I purchased another penny loaf and renewed my labour. My

employer soon found that I was a miserable tool, yet he treated me

kindly. I had now but one penny left, and this I wished to husband

till my labour brought a supply; so for dinner I tied my apron-strings

tighter and went on with my work. My abstinence subjected me to the

jeers of my shopmates. One of them said to another, 'Where does our

shopmate dine?' and the response was, 'Oh! he always dines at the sign

of the Mouth.' Half of the penny loaf which I took with me in the

morning I had allotted for my supper; but before night came I had

pinched it nearly all away in mouthfuls through mere hunger. Very

reluctantly I laid out my last penny, and with no enviable feelings

sought my former lodging in the open air."

But on the following day Samuel's father, having learned where he was,

came to remove him and take him back to S. Austell. Compensation was

made to Baker, his indenture was cancelled, and he remained at Polpea,

where Mr. Drew now had a little farm, for about four months.

Drew, the father, not only was occupied as a Sherborne rider, but he was

also a contractor for carrying the mail between S. Austell and Bodmin,

and he chiefly employed his eldest son, Jabez, in carrying the mails.

"At one time in the depth of winter I was borrowed to supply my

brother's place, and I had to travel in the darkness of night through

frost and snow a dreary journey, out and home, of more than twenty

miles. Being overpowered with fatigue, I fell asleep on the horse's

neck, and when I awoke discovered that I had lost my hat. The wind was

keen and piercing, and I was bitterly cold. I stopped the horse and

endeavoured to find out where I was; but it was so dark that I could

scarcely distinguish the hedges on each side of the road, and I had no

means of ascertaining how long I had been asleep or how far I had

travelled. I then dismounted and looked around for my hat; but seeing

nothing of it, I turned back, leading the horse, determined to find it

if possible; for the loss of a hat was to me of serious consequence.

Shivering with cold, I pursued my solitary way, scrutinizing the road

at every step, until I had walked about two miles, and was on the

point of giving up the search, when I came to a receiving house, where

I ought to have delivered a packet of letters, but had passed it when

asleep. To this place the post usually came about one o'clock in the

morning, and it was customary to leave a window unfastened, except by

a large stone outside, that the family might not be disturbed at so

unseasonable an hour. I immediately put the letter-bag through the

window, and having replaced the stone, was turning round to my horse,

when I perceived my hat lying close to my feet. I suppose that the

horse, knowing the place, must have stopped at the window for me to

deliver my charge; but having waited until his patience was exhausted,

had pursued his way to the next place. My hat must have been shaken

off by his impatient movements."

The remarkable thing about this incident is that the horse was quite

blind, yet it could go its accustomed road, and stop at accustomed

places, without seeing. By all the family this sagacious animal was

much prized, but Samuel's father felt for it a special regard; and the

attachment between the master and his faithful servant was, to all

appearance, mutual. Many years before, the poor beast, in a wretched

condition from starvation and ill-usage, had been turned out on a

common to die. The owner willingly sold it for little more than the

value of the hide; and his new possessor, having by care and kindness

restored it to health and strength, soon found that he had made a most

advantageous bargain. For more than twenty years he and his blind

companion travelled the road together. After the horse was past labour

it was kept in the orchard and tended with almost parental care.

Latterly it became unable to bite the grass, and the old man regularly

fed it with bread sopped in milk. In the morning it would put its head

over the orchard railing, towards its master's bedroom, and give its

accustomed neigh, whereupon old Mr. Drew would jump out of bed, open

the window, and call to the horse, "My poor old fellow, I will be

with thee soon." And when the animal died, he would not allow the skin

or shoes to be taken off, but had the carcase buried entire.

Samuel tells another story of instinct in brute beasts:--

"Our dairy was under a room which was used occasionally as a barn and

apple-chamber, into which the fowls sometimes found their way, and, in

scratching among the chaff, scattered the dust on the pans of milk

below, to the great annoyance of my mother-in-law. In this a favourite

cock of hers was the chief transgressor. One day in harvest she went

into the dairy, followed by her little dog, and finding dust again

thrown on the milk-pans, she exclaimed, 'I wish that cock were dead!'

Not long after, she being with us in the harvest field, we observed

the little dog dragging along the cock, just killed, which with an air

of triumph he laid at my mother-in-law's feet. She was dreadfully

exasperated at the literal fulfilment of her hastily uttered wish,

and, snatching a stick from the hedge, attempted to give the luckless

dog a beating. The dog, seeing the reception he was likely to meet

with, where he expected marks of approbation, left the bird and ran

off, she brandishing her stick and saying in a loud, angry tone, 'I'll

pay thee for this by and by.' In the evening she was about to put her

threat into execution, when she found the little dog established in a

corner of the room and a large one standing before it. Endeavouring to

fulfil her intention by first driving off the large dog, he gave her

plainly to understand that he was not at all disposed to relinquish

his post. She then sought to get at the small dog behind the other,

but the threatening gesture and fiercer growl of the large one

sufficiently indicated that the attempt would be not a little

perilous. The result was that she was obliged to abandon her design.

In killing the cock I can scarcely think the dog understood the

precise import of my stepmother's wish, as his immediate execution of

it would seem to imply. The cock was a more recent favourite, and had

received some attentions which had been previously bestowed upon

himself. This, I think, had led him to entertain a feeling of

hostility to the bird, which he did not presume to indulge until my

mother's tone and manner indicated that the cock was no longer under

her protection. In the power of communicating with each other which

these dogs evidently possessed, and which, in some instances, has been

displayed by this species of animal, a faculty seems to be developed

of which we know very little. On the whole, I never remember to have

met with a case in which, to human appearance, there was a nearer

approach to moral perception than in that of my father's two dogs."

Samuel Drew remained with his father's family from midsummer, 1782,

till the autumn of the same year, and then took a situation in a

shoemaker's shop at Millbrook, on the Cornish side of the estuary of

the Tamar. After having been there for a year he moved to Cawsand and

then to Crafthole, where he got mixed up in smuggling ventures.

Port Wrinkle, which Crafthole adjoins, lies about the middle of the

extensive bay reaching from Looe Island to the Rame Head. It is little

more than a fissure among the rocks which guard the long line of

coast; and being exposed to the uncontrolled violence of the

prevailing winds, affords a very precarious shelter.

Notice was given through Crafthole one evening, about the month of

December, 1784, that a vessel laden with contraband goods was on the

coast, and would be ready to discharge her cargo. At nightfall Samuel

Drew, with the rest of the male population, made towards the port. One

party remained on the rocks to make signals and dispose of the goods

when landed; the other, of which he was one, manned the boats. The

night was intensely dark; and but little progress had been made in

discharging the vessel's cargo when the wind freshened, with a heavy

sea. To prevent the ship being driven on to the rocks it was found

expedient to stand off from the port; but this greatly increased the

risk to those in the boats. Unfavourable as these circumstances were,

all seemed resolved to persevere; and several trips were made between

the vessel and the shore. The wind continuing to increase, one of the

men in the boat with Drew had his hat blown off, and in leaning over

the gunwale in his attempt to secure it, upset the boat, and three of

the men were drowned. Samuel and two others clung to the keel for a

time, but finding that they were drifting out to sea, they were

constrained to let go and sustain themselves by swimming. But the

night was pitch dark, and immersed in the waters they knew not in

which direction to swim. Samuel had given himself up as lost, when he

laid hold of a tangled mass of floating seaweed, and was able to

sustain himself on that. At length he approached some rocks near the

shore, upon which he and two other men, the only survivors of seven,

managed to crawl; but they were so benumbed with cold and so much

exhausted by their exertions that the utmost they could do was to

cling to the rocks and let the sea wash over them. When a little

recovered, they shouted for help, but the other boatmen were concerned

in transporting their lading of kegs on shore, and not till the vessel

had discharged all her cargo did they make any attempt to rescue the

half-drowned men. Eventually they removed them to a farmhouse, where a

blazing fire was kindled on the hearth and fresh faggots piled on it,

while the half-drowned men, who were placed in a recess of the

chimney, unable to relieve themselves, were compelled to endure the

excessive heat which their companions thought was necessary to restore

animation. The result was that they were half roasted. Samuel Drew

says: "My first sensation was that of extreme cold. It was a long time

before I felt the fire, though its effects are still visible on my

legs, which are burnt in several places. The wounds continued open

more than two years, and the marks I shall carry to my grave."

The death of his elder brother Jabez produced a profound impression on

Samuel, and he became a Methodist.

"For the space of about four or five years I travelled through different

parts of Cornwall, working whenever I could obtain employment; and

during this period, waded through scenes of domestic distress, which can

be interesting only to myself. _Literature_ was a term to which I could

annex no idea. _Grammar_ I knew not the meaning of. An opportunity,

however, now offering one an advance in wages at S. Austell, I embraced

it, and came hither to work with rather an eccentric character. My

master was by trade a saddler, had acquired some knowledge of

book-binding, and hired me to carry on the shoe-making for him. My

master was one of those men who will live anywhere, but get rich

nowhere. His shop was frequented by persons of a more respectable class

than those with whom I had previously associated; and various topics

became alternately the subjects of conversation. I listened with all

that attention which my labour and good manners would permit me, and

obtained among them some little knowledge. About this time disputes ran

high in S. Austell between the Calvinists and Arminians, and our shop

afforded a considerable scene of action. In cases of uncertain issue, I

was sometimes appealed to to decide upon a doubtful point. This,

perhaps, flattering my vanity, became a new stimulus to action. I

listened with attention, examined dictionaries, picked up many words,

and, from an attachment which I felt to books that were occasionally

brought to his shop to bind, I began to have some view of the various

theories with which they abounded. The more, however, I read, the more I

felt my own ignorance; and the more I felt my own ignorance, the more

invincible became my energy to surmount it; and every leisure moment was

now employed in reading one thing or other.... After having worked with

this master about three years, I well recollect, a neighbouring

gentleman brought _Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding_ to be

bound. I had never seen or heard of these books before. I took an

occasion to look into them, when I thought his mode of reasoning very

pretty and his arguments exceedingly strong. I watched all opportunities

of reading for myself, and would willingly have laboured a fortnight to

have had the books. They, however, were soon carried away, and with them

all my future improvement by their means. I never saw his essay again

for many years, yet the early impression was not forgotten, and it is

from this accidental circumstance that I received my first bias for

abstruse subjects.

"My master growing inattentive to his shoe-making trade, many of my

friends advised me to commence business for myself, and offered me

money for that purpose. I accepted the offer, started accordingly,

and by mere dint of application, in about one year discharged my debts

and stood alone. My leisure hours I now employed in reading, or

scribbling anything which happened to pass my mind."

Thus he went on till 1798, when he laid the foundation of an _Essay on

the Immortality of the Soul_. Whilst engaged upon this he had T.

Paine's _Age of Reason_ put into his hands. He read it, but saw the

fallacy of many of his arguments, and he wrote his remarks on the

book, and published them in pamphlet form at S. Austell in 1799.

Through this tract he obtained acquaintance with the Rev. John

Whitaker, to whom he showed his MS. on _The Immortality of the Soul_,

and was encouraged to revise, continue, and complete the essay, and it

was published in November, 1802.

"During these literary pursuits I regularly and constantly attended on

my business, and do not recollect that ever one customer has been

disappointed by me through these means. While attending to my trade, I

sometimes catch the fibres of an argument, which I endeavour to note

the prominent features of, and keep a pen and ink by me for the

purpose. In this state, what I can collect through the day remains on

any paper which I have at hand till the business of the day is

dispatched and my shop shut up, when, in the midst of my family, I

endeavour to analyze, in the evening, such thoughts as had crossed my

mind during the day."

At one time the bent of Drew's mind was towards astronomy, but when he

considered how impossible it was for him, without means, to purchase a

powerful telescope, to make any progress in the study of the stars, he

abandoned the thought and devoted himself to metaphysics--perhaps one

of the most unprofitable of all studies. His works were, however,

read by some when they issued from the press, and are now no longer

even looked into.

A friend one day remarked to him, "Mr. Drew, more than once I have

heard you quote the line--

'Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.'

How do you make that out?"

"I will tell you by my own experience," replied Drew. "When I began

business I was a great politician. For the first year I had too much

to think about to indulge my propensity for politics; but, getting a

little ahead in the world, I began to dip into these matters again,

and entered into newspaper argument as if my livelihood depended on

it; my shop was filled with loungers, who came to canvass public

measures. This encroached on my time, and I found it necessary

sometimes to work till midnight to make up for the hours I lost. One

night, after my shutters were closed, and I was busily employed, some

little urchin who was passing put his mouth to the keyhole of the

door, and with a shrill pipe called out, 'Shoemaker! Shoemaker! Work

by night and run about by day!' Had a pistol been fired off at my ear

I could not have been more confounded. From that time I turned over a

new leaf. I ceased to venture on the restless sea of politics, or

trouble myself about matters which did not concern me. The bliss of

ignorance on political topics I often experienced in after life--the

folly of being wise my early history shows."

His sister kept house for him. One market-day a country-woman entered

his shop, and having completed her purchases, remarked that she

thought he would be more comfortable if he had a wife. Drew assented,

but said, "I don't know any one who would have me." "Oh! that's easily

settled," said the woman, and left. Next market-day she returned,

bringing her buxom, apple-cheeked daughter with her. "There, Mr.

Drew," said she; "I brought this maid, who will make 'ee a good wife."

Samuel demurred; he neither knew the family nor the qualities and

character of the wench.

"Lor' bless 'ee!" said the woman, when he made these objections, "take

her. The trial of the pudding is in the eating."

He declined the proposal, however; but this incident turned his mind

to matrimony, and on April 17th, 1791, when in his twenty-seventh

year, he married Honor Halls, and by her had five sons and three

daughters. His wife's immediate fortune was £10, a sum of great

importance at that time to him. Three years after it was increased by

a legacy of £50.

Having made a certain amount of success with his _Essay on the

Immortality of the Soul_, Drew next undertook one on _The Identity and

Resurrection of the Human Body_, and this was published in 1809.

Into a controversy he was engaged in with Mr. Polwhele in 1800 on

Methodism we need not enter, but it made no breach of friendly feeling

between Mr. Polwhele and him, and it was at the request of the former

that Drew wrote the little account of his life that appeared in

Polwhele's _Literary Characters_, 1803.

Having experienced his own great difficulties in acquiring the

principles of the English grammar, in 1804 he gave a course of

lectures on that subject. These lectures, which occupied about two

hours, were delivered on four evenings of the week, two being allotted

to each sex separately. A year completed the course of instruction,

and for this each pupil paid thirty shillings. He was able to

illustrate his lectures very happily with anecdote and from his own

experience, so as to render the barren study of grammar interesting

and entertaining. Though never able to write first-class English, and

often clumsy in diction, yet he was studiously correct in grammar, if

often awkward in construction of a sentence.

In the year 1805 he gave up his cobbling business and devoted himself

entirely to his pen. Seeing his value as a polemic writer in favour of

the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, several of the clergy of

Cornwall were anxious that he should join the Church; but his early

association with Dissent, and his ignorance of Catholic doctrine,

induced him to remain where he was in the Methodist Connection.

He next wrote an _Essay on the Being and Attributes of the Deity_, and

a reply to Thomas Prout, _On the Divinity of Christ and the Eternal

Sonship_. All this was very well in its way at the time, but is now so

much waste paper, used only for covering jampots.

In 1814 Samuel Drew undertook his most voluminous work, the _History

of Cornwall_, one which he was wholly unqualified to undertake, as he

had no familiarity with the MS. material on which that history should

be based; and it was a mere compilation from already printed matter.

In 1819 Samuel Drew removed to Liverpool, where he acted as local

preacher in the Methodist meeting-houses. To this period belongs the

epigram written on him by Dr. Clarke:--

Long was the man, and long was his hair,

And long was the coat which this long man did wear.

He became editor of the _Imperial Magazine_, and after a short while

in Liverpool, migrated to London.

In 1828 he lost his wife. "When my wife died," he was wont to say, "my

earthly sun set for ever."

In 1833 he returned to Cornwall, and died at Helston on March 29th, at

the age of sixty-eight.

Slender in form, with a head remarkably small for the length of his

limbs, his stature exceeded the common height. He had a searching and

intelligent eye, was somewhat uncouth in his movements, but was full

of energy of mind and body. He sometimes wrote verses, which only a

very partial biographer would call poetry. But what he prided himself

on being was not a poet, but a metaphysician.

The story goes that S. Augustine was walking one day by the seashore,

musing on the attributes of God and on the demonstration of the Divine

nature, when he saw a child digging a hole in the sand, and then with

a fan-shell ladling the sea-water into the hole it had made.

S. Augustine paused and asked, "My child, what are you about?"

"I am going to empty the sea into this hole," replied the child.

Then S. Augustine entered into himself and thought: "Can a man with

the limited capacity of his brain embrace the infinity of the Divine

nature and perfections? Is it not like emptying the sea into a tiny

hole to try to effect this?"

Drew's life labours were just doing this. There was a certain amount

of intellectual ingenuity in his arguments, but that was all. Not a

leaf that he wrote is of any permanent value, but that it was of value

at the time when he wrote I should be the last to deny.

There is abundant material for a life of Samuel Drew. Not only may it

be found in the life by his son mentioned at the head of this article,

and in his own biographical memoir given by R. Polwhele, but his son

J. H. Drew also published a second memoir, under the title _Samuel

Drew, M. A., the Self-Taught Cornishman; A Life Lesson_, published in

1861; also in _Lives of the Illustrious_, by J. P. Edwards, 1852; and

Mr. Smiles has devoted some pages to him in _Self-Help_, 1866. The

portrait of Samuel Drew is given as frontispiece to the first volume

of _The Imperial Magazine_, 1819, and also to the _Life_ by his son.

FOOTNOTE:

[25] Samuel Drew says at the age of five, but this was a slip of his

pen or a mistake of the printer; his mother died in 1774.

THE SIEGE OF SKEWIS

Skewis is a small, not very interesting farmhouse in itself, on the

high road from Camborne to Helston, near the station of Nancegollan.

Although at a distance of five miles from Tregonning Hill, that height

crowned by a stone camp, and with two camps on its slopes, seems to

dominate it. The country around is bleak and treeless except in dips,

and where are the grounds of Clowance. To the north is the camp of

Tregeare, where was once seated an ancient family of the same name,

which died out in the reign of William of Orange with Richard

Tregeare, sheriff of Cornwall. Skewis had been for some time the

patrimony of a succession of yeoman proprietors of the name of Rogers.

In 1734 there were two brothers of that name sons of the owner of

Skewis. On their father's death the eldest succeeded to the property,

and the younger, Henry, carried on the trade of pewterer in Helston.

Both were married, but the elder had no children, whereas Henry had

several.

On the death of the elder brother, his widow, whose maiden name had

been Millett, produced a will whereby her late husband had bequeathed

all his freehold property to her. This greatly exasperated Henry, who

considered that as Skewis had belonged to the Rogers family for many

generations, he was entitled to it, and he averred that the will had

been wrung from his dying brother by the importunity of the wife when

he was feeble in mind as well as body. Forthwith, in place of

disputing the will when proved, he took forcible possession of the

house, and turned out of it some female servants left in charge of it

whilst his sister-in-law was from home.

[Illustration: HENRY ROGERS: PEWTERER]

The whole neighbourhood was satisfied that great wrong had been done

to Henry Rogers, and was loud in its condemnation of the widow.

When Mrs. Rogers found herself forcibly dispossessed she appealed to

the law, and judgment was given against Henry.

Stephen Tillie was under-sheriff, and he received orders to eject

Rogers, and place Anne, the widow, in possession. On June 18th, 1734, he

accordingly went to Skewis to serve the summons. But Henry stood at an

upper window armed with a gun, and dared the under-sheriff to approach.

Tillie shouted to him that he had the King's writ and must have

possession, but assured him that he would not meddle with his person.

By this time a crowd of some two or three hundred persons had

assembled, all sympathizers with Henry Rogers, and murmuring their

disapproval of the ejectment.

Henry, from his window, called out that the Lord Chancellor had made

an unjust decree.

Tillie replied that Henry Rogers might appeal against the decision,

but surrender the house he must.

Rogers, in reply, fired, and, as the under-sheriff stated, "burned his

wig and singed his face."

This so frightened Tillie that he withdrew, and sent to Helston for

some soldiers; and Captain Sadler, then in charge of the military

there, despatched some to his aid.

So reinforced, on the morrow Tillie went again to Skewis, and found

the door shut, and a hole cut in it, with a gun-barrel protruding.

Again the under-sheriff demanded admittance, and for reply the gun was

fired, and a bailiff named William Carpenter was mortally wounded.

Another gun was then discharged, and Hatch, the under-sheriff's servant,

was struck. Anne Rogers, the plaintiff, was in the rear animating the

soldiers against the occupants of the house. Mrs. Henry Rogers was

within, loading and serving out the guns to her husband and to his

servant John Street. A soldier was shot in the groin, and two other men

were wounded. Thereupon the soldiers fired upon the house, and though

the bullets flew in at the window, none of those within were hurt.

Woolsten, the soldier shot in the groin, was taken to the rear, where he

died. A bullet whizzed through Stephen Tillie's hat. Discretion is the

better part of valour. Accordingly the under-sheriff gave orders to beat

a retreat, and like the King of France's men who marched up a hill and

then marched down again, Tillie and his posse of bailiffs and military

retired from the battlefield, carrying their dead and wounded, without

having effected an entry. In a kindly spirit Rogers offered Tillie a

dram, but the under-sheriff's courage was too much quailed to allow him

to draw near enough to accept the hospitable offer.

Indeed, it took Mr. Tillie nine months to gather up sufficient courage

to resume the attack, and then not till he had ordered up cannon from

Pendennis Castle. On the former occasion there had been at least ten

soldiers under the command of an officer. Within the house were only

Henry Rogers, his wife, his small children, and his servant-man.

On March 16th, in the year following, another party was sent to

apprehend Rogers and take possession of the house. On this occasion,

apparently Mr. Stephen Tillie did not put in his appearance, but left

the duty to be discharged by the constables. Henry Rogers was prepared

for them, and fired, when one named Andrew Willis, alias Tubby, was

shot dead. Rogers then, with the utmost coolness, came out of the door

and walked round the man he had shot, and again on this occasion

offered the besiegers a drink. The besiegers then retired, but not

till a second man had been shot.

During the night Henry Rogers effected his escape. He travelled on foot

to Salisbury, with the intention of making his case known to the King.

Sir John S. Aubyn, of Clowance, now took an active part in

endeavouring to secure the fugitive, and handbills descriptive of

Rogers were circulated along the road to London, whither it was known

he was making his way. Near Salisbury a postboy, driving homewards a

return post-chaise, was accosted by a stout man walking with a gun in

his hand, who requested to be given a lift. The boy drove him to the

inn, where he procured a bed; but the circumstances and description

had excited strong suspicion, and he was secured in his sleep. The

prisoner was removed to Cornwall. He and his man Street were tried at

the assizes at Launceston on August 1st, 1735, were both found guilty

of murder, and were both hanged.

It is not possible to withhold sympathy from both men, especially

Street, who acted on the belief that it was his duty to be true to his

master, and to defend him and his property to the utmost.

Mr. Davies Gilbert gives the minutes of an interesting conversation he

had with the son of Henry Rogers who was hanged.

"On the 30th October, 1812, I called on Mr. Henry Rogers, formerly a

saddler at Penzance, but then residing there in great poverty, being

supported by a small allowance from a club, and by half a crown a week

given him by the Corporation, nominally for yielding up the possession

of a house, but in truth to prevent his becoming a common pauper.

"Mr. Henry Rogers was then eighty-four years of age and remembered the

unfortunate transactions at Skewis perfectly well; he was between

seven and eight years old at the time. He recollected going out with

his father into the court after there had been some firing. His father

had a gun in his hand, and inquired what they wanted. On this his

father was fired at, and had a snuff-box and powder-horn broken in his

pocket by a ball, whilst he stood on the other side.

"He recollected that whilst he was in bed, several balls came in

through the windows of the room, and after striking the wall rolled

about on the floor.

"One brother and a sister, who were in the house, went out to inquire

what was wanted of their father, and they were not permitted to return.

"On the last night, no one remained in the house but his father,

himself, and the servant-maid. In the middle of the night they all

went out, and got some distance from the house. In crossing a field,

however, they were met by two soldiers, who inquired their business.

The maid answered that they were looking for a cow, when they were

permitted to proceed. The soldiers had their arms, and his father had

his gun. The maid and himself were left at a farmhouse in the

neighbourhood, and Mr. Rogers proceeded on his way towards London."

The authorities for the story of the siege of Skewis are: Richard

Hooker's _Weekly Miscellany_, 9 August, 1735; George Harris's _Life of

Lord Chancellor Hardwick_, I, pp. 295-303; Caulfield's _Portraits of

Remarkable Persons_, 1813; and Davies Gilbert's _Parochial History of

Cornwall_.

THE VOYAGE OF JOHN SANDS

Lanarth, in the parish of S. Keverne, in the Lizard district, was for

many generations the residence of the family of Sands. The family was

not represented at the Heralds' Visitation of 1620, and did not record

its arms and pedigree, but was nevertheless regarded in the eighteenth

century as "gentle," and was united to other families of respectability.

Sampson Sands, who died in 1696, was married to Jane, daughter of John

Coode, of Breage, but he died without issue and left his estate to his

brother's son, John Sands, married to a daughter of Hamley, of S. Neot.

This John Sands, one afternoon in January, 1702-3, and seven other

persons, men and women, of S. Keverne, were returning from Falmouth in

a fishing boat of about five tons burden, without deck or covering,

after having done their marketing at a fair there.

When they had got to sea, about a league from the mouth of the Fal and

about two leagues off S. Keverne, suddenly there rose a storm of wind

from the west, and the sea rising and rolling in great crested waves

round the terrible points of the Manacles, the rowers were unable to

make headway against it. If they could not reach Porthoustock, for which

they were bound, they hoped at least to run into Porthallow. But even

this they were unable to effect. The fury of the blast and the great

masses of water heaved against the little boat made progress impossible,

and they resolved on running back into Falmouth harbour. Accordingly the

vessel was turned, but the raging wind and sea and the tide setting out

from the land swept them from the coast. Moreover, the short winter day

was closing in. The sun went down behind a wild and inky bank of cloud,

and speedily night set in dark and terrible. The unfortunate boatload of

marketers could do no more than invoke God's protection, and bail out

the water as fast as it poured over the gunwale. The oars were shipped,

and the boatmen declared that there was nothing to be done but to let

loose the helm and allow the boat to drive.

The night was cold as well as tempestuous. On the blast of the wind

came down torrents of rain. The men and women alike laboured hard to

cast out of the boat the water that poured in. For sixteen hours

darkness lasted. How may each have said with Gonzalo: "Now would I

give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long

heath, brown furze, anything. I would fain die a dry death." At length

there rose a raw light in the south-east, against which the billows

stood up black as ink. As the light grew, those in the boat found

themselves encircled with sea, out of sight of land, and with the

clouds scudding overhead, as if running a race. The storm continued

all that day and the night following. Not only so, but also the third

day and night the battle with the influx of water continued. There was

no sleep for any; all had to fight the water for their lives. Happily

they were not starving, for Mr. Sands had taken over to Falmouth in

the boat a woman, the taverner's wife of the "Three Tuns," who had

brought with her from Falmouth a shilling's worth of bread and three

or four gallons of brandy. On this they subsisted.

On the fourth day in the morning, the gale abated, and at ten o'clock

land was descried. Forthwith the rowers bent to their oars and steered

towards it. When the whole party landed they discovered that they had

been wafted over to the coast of Normandy; and they found themselves

on French soil at the time that Queen Anne was engaged in war with

Louis XIV. Marlborough had been in the Netherlands, and had reduced

Venloo, Ruremonde, and the citadel of Liége. At sea Rooke had captured

six vessels and sunk thirteen at Vigo, and Admiral Benbow had done

wonders against a French fleet in the West Indies. The French were

sore and irritated. So soon as Mr. Sands and his little party stepped

on shore they were encountered by several men armed, who demanded who

they were. They replied that they were English. One of the party

stopping them understood our language, and inquired the occasion of

these visitors landing on the enemy's shores, and by what expedient

they had come over. They replied, and gave an account of their

perilous voyage of three nights and four days.

Upon this a gentleman of the company asked Mr. Sands from what part of

England he came, and when he replied that they were all from Cornwall,

the same gentleman inquired further whether the leader of the party

was named Sands; to this he replied, in some surprise, that he was.

"Then, monsieur," said the Frenchman, "I know you, and I can well

remember your kindness and hospitality when I was wrecked off the

Lizard some years ago. Then you received me into your house, and

entertained me most generously."

This was an unexpected and welcome encounter. The gentleman then

required the party to surrender what arms and money they had with

them, and Mr. Sands handed over forty guineas that he had received at

Falmouth for pilchards just before he was driven out to sea in the

boat. He and his companions were required to yield themselves

prisoners of war; and Mr. Sands was received into the gentleman's

home. All next day were brought before a magistrate and examined, and

orders were given that they should not be kept in custody as prisoners

of war, but should be permitted to go about at liberty, and beg alms

of the people. And the kind-hearted Normandy peasants and gentlemen

showed them great favour, and supplied all their pressing wants.

The news of the event not only flew over the country, but reached the

ears of the King, who thereupon ordered that the whole party should be

sent back to England by the first transport ship for prisoners of war;

which happened soon after.

Mr. Sands took leave of his kind host in whose house he had been

hospitably entertained, and begged him to accept the forty guineas as

some acknowledgment of his kindness. This, however, the gentleman

refused to do, saying that he would take nothing at his hands, since God

in such a wonderful manner had preserved him and his companions from the

perils of the deep. Then Mr. Sands pressed five guineas on the wife of

his host, begging her with that sum to purchase something which might

remind her of him and his party; and this she reluctantly received.

So they parted, and all went on board a transport ship and were safely

landed at Portsmouth; and in eight weeks after their departure from

England returned to S. Keverne, to the great joy and surprise of

their friends and relations, who had concluded that all of them had

been drowned.

The Rev. Sampson Sandys was grandson of the gentleman who was carried

over to France, as described. He lived at Lanarth to a great age. His

daughter Eleanor married Admiral James Kempthorne, R.N. He was

succeeded at Lanarth by his nephew, William Sandys, a colonel in the

army of the East India Company, who rebuilt the house. It must be

added that the original name of the family was not Sandys but Sands,

and that it assumed the former name as more euphonious and as

supposing a connection which, however, has not been proved to exist,

with Lord Sandys of The Vine, and Ombersley, Worcestershire, and the

Cumberland family of Graythwaite. At the same time, it assumed the

arms of the same distinguished family, _or_, a fesse dancetté between

three crosses crosslet fichée _gules_.

CHARLES INCLEDON

This, one of the sweetest tenor singers England has produced, was born

at S. Keverne in Cornwall, in 1764, and was the son of a petty local

surgeon and apothecary practising there.

At the age of seven he was introduced by Mr. Snow, one of the minor

canons of Exeter Cathedral, to the organist, then named Langdon, and he

afterwards became the pupil of William Jackson the composer, who was for

many years organist of the cathedral. Jackson took great notice of the

boy, and made him sing his own compositions at concerts in the city. On

one occasion, when the assizes were on at Exeter, Judge Nares attended

in state at the morning service in the cathedral, when Incledon sang the

solo "Let my soul love," in the anthem, "Let my complaint come before

Thee, O Lord," with such effect and beauty that the tears rolled down

the judge's cheeks, and at the conclusion of Divine service he sent for

the boy and presented him with five guineas.

Incledon was wont, on summer evenings, to seat himself on a rail in

the cathedral close and sing, to the delight of an audience that

always collected as soon as his bird-like voice was heard. On one such

occasion he was singing the song "When I was a shepherd's maid," from

_The Padlock_, when a gentleman in regimentals stepped forward and

asked his name. Next day this officer, the Hon. Mr. Trevor, called on

Jackson and asked permission to take the lad with him to Torquay,

where he was going to visit Commodore Walsingham of the _Thunderer_,

and he desired to give his friend and all on board ship the pleasure

of hearing Incledon sing. Permission was accorded, and the boy was on

board the vessel for three days, and sang several nautical and other

songs, beginning with "Blow high, blow low." The Commodore was so

delighted that he wrote to Incledon's parents and asked that the lad

might be placed under him in the vessel; but the mother declined, and

well was it that she did, for the _Thunderer_ went down in a storm in

the West Indies, and all hands on board were lost.

The kind reception accorded to Charles Incledon on board induced him

to harbour the resolution to become a sailor, and accompanied by a

fellow chorister, and carrying a bundle of linen, he ran away, hoping

to reach Plymouth; but he was overtaken and brought back, and as a

punishment was not allowed to wear his surplice in choir for a week.

But when his voice broke, then he was allowed to follow his bent, and he

embarked on board the _Formidable_ under Captain Stanton, and remained

in her two years, till, disabled by a wound, he was left at Plymouth,

and on his recovery was placed in a vessel commanded by Lord Harvey,

afterwards Earl of Bristol. With this nobleman he sailed to Sta. Lucia,

where the whole fleet was at anchor. Whilst there, Lord Harvey gave a

dinner on board to his fellow commanders and other officers. At the same

time the sailors before the mast enjoyed themselves with grog and songs.

When Incledon sang, the lieutenant on deck ran to the cabin where the

officers were regaling themselves, and told them that they had a

nightingale on board, and would do well to hear it sing. Lord Harvey at

once proceeded to the quarter-deck, heard Incledon sing the fine old

traditional ballad, "'Twas Thursday in the Morn," and was so impressed

that he bade him at once change his apparel and come to the state cabin.

He did so and sang there "The Fight of the Monmouth and Foudroyant,"

"Rule Britannia," and some of Jackson's favourite canzonets. The

officers applauded enthusiastically, and jocularly appointed him Singer

to the British Fleet. He was released from the performance of manual

duty, and sent for to assist at every entertainment that succeeded. He

rose high in the favour of Admiral Pigot, the Commander-in-Chief, and

made numerous friends and patrons.

[Illustration:

Singleton pinx. J. Thomson Sculp.

M^r. Incledon, as Macheath

But now again, my spirits sink,

I'll raise them high with wine. [Drinks]

Beggars Opera Act 3 Scene 3

Engraved for the Theatrical Inquisitor

London Published Nov^r. 1^{st}. 1816, by C. Chapple Pall Mall.

]

In 1782 Incledon was in the engagement between the English fleet under

Admiral Sir George Bridges, afterwards Lord Rodney, and the French

fleet commanded by the Count de Grasse, when the former gained a

complete victory.

At the expiration of the war Incledon was discharged at Chatham and

proceeded to London, with strong recommendations from Lord Mulgrave

and others to Mr. Colman of the Haymarket Theatre. Colman received him

coldly, and gave him no hopes of an engagement. Then he went to

Southampton, where he obtained an engagement at ten shillings and

sixpence a week. But soon after, owing to some dispute, he left the

company and went to Salisbury with a travelling company, and fell into

great poverty and misery. However, he succeeded in obtaining an

engagement at Bath with Mr. Palmer, the well-known theatrical manager,

and the man who introduced mail-coaches into England. Here he received

thirty shillings a week. He attracted the attention of Ranzzini, the

arbiter of the musical entertainments at Bath; and this able man gave

him valuable instruction in scientific singing. One evening, hearing

Incledon sing Handel's "Total Eclipse," the Italian was so delighted

that, catching hold of his hand, he left the piano, and leading him to

the front of the platform exclaimed, "Ladies an jentleman, dis is my

scholar!"

Thomas Harris, hearing him at Bath, proposed that he should sing and

act at Covent Garden Theatre, and engaged him for three years at six,

seven, and eight pounds a week. Hardly was this agreement made, when

Linley, of Drury Lane, offered him twelve pounds a week, and to retain

him for five years. But, although only a verbal agreement had been

entered into with Harris, Incledon, to his honour, rejected the offer

of Linley. It was unfortunate in more ways than one, as he would have

profited by Linley's exquisite taste and instruction, as well as have

earned nearly double what Harris offered. Moreover, he was very badly

treated at Covent Garden, and often not given parts in which he could

do himself justice. In 1809 came a rupture, and the managers dismissed

him, and Incledon quitted London on a provincial tour. After two years

he was re-engaged by Harris, at a salary of seventeen pounds a week,

for a term of five years; but he stipulated that he should be given

such rôles as suited him. This engagement was not fulfilled, and a

fresh quarrel ensued that led to a final rupture at the end of three

years, and he quitted Covent Garden for ever, refusing even to sing in

the Oratorios performed there during Lent.

He had made his first appearance at Covent Garden in October, 1790, as

Dermont in _The Poor Soldier_, by Shield. His vocal endowments were

certainly great; he had a voice of uncommon power and sweetness, both

in the natural and falsetto. The former was from A to G, a compass of

about fourteen notes; the latter he could use from D to E or even F,

or about ten notes. His natural voice was full and open, and of such

ductility, that when he sang _pianissimo_ it retained its original

quality. His falsetto was rich, sweet, and brilliant, and totally

unlike the other. He could use it with facility, and execute in it

ornaments of a certain class with volubility and sweetness. His shake

was good, and his intonation much more correct than is common to

singers so imperfectly educated. But he never quite got over his

West-country pronunciation. His strong point was the ballad, and that

not the modern sentimental composition, but of the robust old school.

When Ranzzini first heard him at Bath, rolling his voice upwards like

a surge of the sea, till, touching the top note, it expired in

sweetness, he exclaimed in rapture, "_Corpo di Dio!_ it was ver' lucky

dere vas some roof above or you would be heard by de angels in Heaven,

and make dem jealous."

Incledon himself used to tell a story of the effect he produced upon

Mrs. Siddons: "She paid me one of the finest compliments I ever

received. I sang 'The Storm' after dinner; she cried and sobbed like a

child. Taking both my hands, she said: 'All that I and my brother ever

did is nothing to the effect you produce.'"

"I remember," says William Robson, in _The Old Playgoer_, "when the

élite of taste and science and literature were assembled to pay the

well-deserved compliment of a dinner to John Kemble, and to present

him with a handsome piece of plate on his retirement, Incledon sang,

when requested, his best song, 'The Storm.' The effect was sublime,

the silence holy, the feeling intense; and while Talma was recovering

from his astonishment, Kemble placed his hand on the arm of the great

French actor, and said in an agitated, emphatic, and proud tone,

'_That_ is an English singer.'" Marsden adds that Talma jumped up from

his seat and embraced him.

Incledon sang with great feeling, and in "The Storm" he was able to

throw his whole heart into the ballad, for not only had he encountered

many a storm at sea, but he had been shipwrecked on a passage from

Liverpool to Dublin, on the bar. Some of those on board were lost, but

he saved himself and his wife by drawing her up to the round-top and

lashing her and himself to it. From this perilous position, after a

duration of several hours, they were rescued by some fishermen who saw

the wreck from the shore.

Incledon belonged in town to "The Glee Club," composed of Shield,

Bannister, Dignum, himself, and one or two others. It met on Sunday

evenings during the season at the Garrick Coffee House, in Bow Street,

once a fortnight. At one of these little gatherings Incledon was

amusingly hoaxed. Though an admirable singer, he was a shockingly bad

actor. When he came in one of the party informed him that an intended

musical performance for a charitable purpose, in which he, Incledon,

was to sing, had been abandoned, on account of the Bishop of London

objecting to an actor performing in church. Incledon, who was an

extremely irritable man, broke out in a violent strain, conceiving the

word _actor_ to have been employed as a term of reproach, and

addressing himself to Bannister, said with great vehemence, "There,

Charles, do you hear that?" "Why," said Bannister, "if I were you, I'd

make his lordship _prove his words_."

Incledon one day was at Tattersall's, when Suett, the actor, also

happened to be there, and asked him whether he had come to buy a

horse. "Yes," said Charles, "I have. I must ride, it is good for my

health. But why are you here, Dickey? Do you think that you know the

difference between a horse and an ass?"

"Oh, yes," replied the comedian. "If you were among a thousand horses,

I would know you immediately."

There was a public-house in Bow Street called "The Brown Bear," which

was famous for a compound liquor, a mixture of beer, eggs, sugar, and

brandy. Incledon and Jack Johnstone were partial to this, and

frequently indulged themselves with it during the evening at the

theatre, and, as a jest, occasionally obtained it in the following

manner. When there happened to be several ladies of the theatre in the

green-room, they took that opportunity to represent to them the hard

case of the widow of a provincial actor, left with her children in

great distress, and to solicit from them a few shillings to enable

them to purchase some _flannel_ during that inclement season. Having

obtained contributions, they despatched the dresser to "The Brown

Bear" for a quart of egg-hot, and had the modesty not to drink it all

themselves, but to present a glass to each of the females who had

subscribed, requesting them to drink to the health of the widow and

the flannel. When Incledon and Johnstone had practised this trick

several times, Quick, the comedian of the same theatre, bribed the

dresser to infuse into the mixture a dose of ipecacuanha, and that

brought the joke to an end. But the mixture thenceforth, without the

last ingredient, was popularly called Flannel.

Incledon was a notoriously vain man. Vanity was his besetting sin. "In

pronouncing his own name," says Mr. Matthews, "he believed he

described all that was admirable in human nature. It would happen,

however, that this perpetual veneration of self laid him open to many

effects which, to any man less securely locked and bolted in his own

conceit, would have opened the door to his understanding. But he had

no room there for other than what it naturally contained; and the bump

of content was all-sufficient to fill the otherwise aching void.

Incledon called himself the 'English Ballad Singer' _per se_; a

distinction he would not have exchanged for the highest in the realm

of talent. Among many self-deceptions arising out of his one great

foible, he was impressed with the belief that he was a reading man."

One day Matthews found him in his house deep in study. Incledon looked

up at his visitor, and said, "My dear Matthews, I'm improving my mind.

I'm reading a book that should be in the hands of every father and

husband."

"What is it, Charles?" asked Matthews, and leaning over him saw that

it was a volume of the _Newgate Calendar_!

It had become a habit, during a fagging run of a new opera at Covent

Garden Theatre one season, for certain performers to club a batch or so

of Madeira, of which they took a glass to their dressing-rooms. Incledon

was continually finding fault with the quality, and praising up his own

private stock of the same wine. At the close of the season, his brother

actors had become weary of Incledon's grumbling over the Madeira, which

they knew to be excellent. One night a fellow-actor, seeing a large key

lying upon Incledon's dressing-table, labelled "_Cellar_," and Incledon

happening at the time to be engaged on the stage till the end of the

opera, despatched the dresser to Brompton Crescent with the key, with a

request to Mrs. Incledon from her husband that she would send one dozen

of his best Madeira by the bearer. Mrs. Incledon, wholly unsuspicious

of any trick, did so. When Incledon left the stage, the confederates

told him that they had got fresh and very first-rate Madeira now, as he

had disliked what had been provided before. Incledon took a glass, made

a wry face, took another, and said, "Beastly stuff! Never in my life

tasted such cheap, vile stuff."

"Sorry, Incledon, you do not appreciate _your own_ Madeira."

Incledon drank pretty heavily, but did not get drunk. Here is a bill

for a slight evening collation at the Orange Coffee House, for him and

two friends:

£ _s._ _d._

Mr. Shield, Welsh Rabbit 0 1 0

" 2 glasses of Brandy and water 0 2 0

Mr. Parke, Welsh Rabbit 0 1 0

" 2 glasses of Brandy and water 0 2 0

Mr. Incledon, Welsh Rabbit 0 1 0

" 2 bottles of Madeira 1 4 0

Parke, in his _Musical Memoirs_, relates an instance of Incledon's

selfishness. He says of him that he was a singular compound of

contrarieties, amongst which frugality and extravagance were

conspicuous. "Mr. Shield the composer, Incledon, and I, lived for many

years a good deal together. On one occasion Shield and myself dined

with Incledon at his house in Brompton in the month of February. When

I had arrived there, Incledon said to me, 'Bill, do you like ducks?'

Conceiving, from the snow lying on the ground, that he meant wild

ones, I replied, 'Yes, I like a good wild duck very well.' 'D---- wild

ducks!' said he: 'I mean tame ducks, my boy'; adding, 'I bought a

couple in town for which I gave eighteen shillings.' Soon afterwards a

letter arrived, announcing that Mr. Raymond, the stage-manager of

Drury Lane Theatre, who was to have been of the party, could not come;

in consequence of which, I presume, only one duck was placed on the

dinner table, with some roast beef, etc. When Mrs. Incledon (who, as

well as her husband, was fond of good living) had carved the duck,

like a good wife she helped her husband to the breast part and to one

of the wings, taking at the same time the other wing to herself,

reserving for Shield and me the two legs and the back. Shield, who

looked a little awkward at this specimen of selfishness and

ill-manners, at first refused the limb offered to him, and I had

declined taking the other: there appeared to be but a poor prospect of

the legs walking off, till Shield relented and took one, and Incledon

the other, so that they were speedily out of sight. The back, however,

remained behind, and afforded a titbit for the servants."

On another occasion he was giving a dinner party, and a dish was

brought to table heaped up, apparently, with fresh herrings. All the

company, except Incledon and his wife, partook of these fish; some

were helped a second time. When the herrings had been cleared away,

there appeared beneath one fine white fish. "My dear," said Incledon,

"what can that be?" "I believe it is a John Dory, Charles."

Some of the John Dory was offered to the company, but they had eaten

enough fish, and so Incledon and his wife ate the John Dory between

them.

Incledon, whilst very willing to hoax others, was easily taken in

himself. As his dependence was entirely on his voice, he was very

apprehensive of catching cold, which, in consequence, rendered him the

occasional dupe of quackery.

During Mr. Kemble's management of Covent Garden Theatre, one of the

wags among his fellow-actors informed him that a patent lozenge had

just been invented and sold only at a jeweller's in Bond Street, which

was an infallible cure for hoarseness. In order that he might the more

readily take the bait, he was told that Kemble made frequent use of

it. Incledon immediately inquired of the great actor, who very gravely

answered, "Oh, yes, Charles; the patent lozenge is an admirable thing.

I have derived the greatest benefit from it, when I kept it in my

mouth all night."

Incledon accordingly went to Bond Street to purchase the valuable

lozenge, and the man, who had been previously instructed, gave him a

small pebble in a pill-box. Incledon arrived at the theatre next day

with the stone in his mouth and spitting frequently. He was, of

course, asked if the patent lozenge did him any good. "Yes," replied

he, spitting; "I kept it in my mouth (spitting) all night, and

(spitting again) it has this remarkable property, that it does not

dissolve," and he spat again. The wag requested to see it, and the

production of the pebble provoked a general laugh.

"Why, Charles," said Kemble, "this is a stone! I meant a patent

lozenge. You should have gone to an apothecary's and not to a

jeweller's for it."

Incledon, when he found that he was hoaxed, was full of wrath; his

anger, however, soon subsided.

"Well," said he, "I can't grumble, for an apothecary who pretended to

have supplied the jeweller with the lozenge, and who has received from

me a letter belauding the nostrum, has undertaken in return to dispose

of forty pounds' worth of tickets for my benefit."

On the occasion of this, or some other benefit, he could not refrain

from going every morning to the box-office to see how many places

were taken; and a week before the last, observing the names to be few

besides those of his own private friends, he said to the box-keeper,

Brandon, "D---- it, Jem, if the nobility don't come forward, I shall

cut but a poor figure this time."

"Don't be afraid," said Brandon; "I dare say we shall do a good deal

for you to-day."

"I hope so," replied Incledon, "and as I go home to dinner I will look

in again."

Incledon, who was not very familiar with _Debrett's Peerage_,

returning at five o'clock in the afternoon, hastened to the book, and

read aloud the following fictitious names, which Brandon, by way of a

joke, had put down in his absence: "The Marquis of Piccadilly," "The

Duke of Windsor."

"Ah, ha!" exclaimed Incledon, "that must be one of the Royal Family."

"Lord Highgate"--"The Bishop of Gravesend." "Well," said he to

Brandon, quite delighted, "if we get on as well to-morrow as we have

to-day, I shall have a number of distinguished titles present."

Parke says of him: "Amongst other singularities, Incledon was

restless, and could not stay long in a place. Having, with his wife,

dined at my house, in the evening, whilst the party were engaged at

cards, he absented himself for a considerable time; and, Mrs. Incledon

noticing it particularly, I was induced to go and look for him.

Tracing him by his voice, I found him in the kitchen, helping the

maids to pick parsley, which was preparing for supper."

Parke adds: "As a ballad singer he was unrivalled, and his manner of

singing sea songs, particularly Gay's 'Black-eyed Susan,' 'The Storm,'

by Alexander Stevens, and Shield's 'Heaving of the Lead,' can only be

appreciated by those who have heard him.

"Though he evinced a strong propensity to wine, he never appeared to

be intoxicated by it. Dining with a party at his house, where he had

just recovered from a very severe indisposition, and was, as he said,

advised by his physician to be very abstemious, he sometimes after

dinner, while his friends were drinking port wine, had a second black

bottle placed before him, which I conceived to contain some very light

beverage suited to his case, till he said to me in an under tone,

'Bill, take a glass of this,' pointing to his black bottle, which I

did, and found it to be Madeira."

During the summer Incledon made provincial tours, giving entertainments

moulded on those of Dibdin, and these were very successful financially.

After quitting Covent Garden he performed at concerts and in minor

theatres. In 1817 he sailed for America, where he was received with

great enthusiasm, and realized handsome profits.

His last appearance in London was under Ellison at Drury Lane in 1820,

and his last appearance on any stage was at Southampton, where he had

first appeared behind the footlights. This was on October 20th in the

same year. He resided towards the end of his days at Brighton, where

he was afflicted with a slight paralytic affliction, from the effects

of which he recovered; and in February, 1826, being at Worcester, he

experienced a second attack, which proved fatal, and he died on

February 14th in the sixty-eighth year of his age. His remains were

conveyed from Worcester to Highgate, where they were interred.

THE MURDER OF RICHARD

CORYTON

Richard Coryton, eldest son of Peter Coryton of West Newton Ferrers,

in the parish of S. Mellion, had married Ann, daughter of Richard

Coode, of Morval, and by her had three sons, Peter, Richard, and John.

Peter, the grandfather, died on 24th March, 1551, but his son Richard

died a violent death in a tragic manner in 1565. Peter, the younger

and heir apparent, was intent on marrying Jane, the daughter of John

Wrey, of Northrussell, but for some reason unexplained his father

Richard took a violent dislike to the proposed daughter-in-law, and

when his son persisted in desiring to have her as his wife, the father

flew into a violent passion and swore that if he took her he would

disinherit him of all the lands he could, and would give to him only a

younger son's portion, constituting Richard head of the family.

Peter remained firm--he was then in London at the Court, and the

father at once made ready to leave Newton Ferrers and take his journey

to London and disinherit his son if he found that the marriage was

still insisted on. But on the eve of his starting, as he was walking

in the grounds of Newton Ferrers, he was suddenly fallen upon by two

scoundrels named Bartlett and Baseley, who owed him a grudge over some

matter that is not mentioned, and they cut his throat.

Bartlett and Baseley were apprehended and brought to Launceston before

the sheriff, Mr. Trevanion, and were found guilty; but he could not

believe that they were revenging some private wrong, and as the matter

of dispute between father and son was well known, and it was known as

well that Richard was about to disinherit his eldest son, a strong

suspicion was entertained by Trevanion that the murder had been

committed at the instigation of the son, and he gave the men hopes of

a reprieve--if not of a pardon--if they would reveal the name of the

man who had urged them to commit this dreadful crime. He behaved, it

must be seen, in a most unfair manner, hinting his suspicions to the

two wretches and giving them no peace till they declared that they had

been set on by Mr. Peter Coryton to murder his father.

As Peter Coryton was in town, the two criminals were sent to Newgate

to be confronted with him there. Whether he was arrested on the charge

of having instigated the murder of his father does not appear, but it

is probable.

However, if that were the case, his detention was not for long, as

both murderers recanted when in London. The following curious deed of

"Evidence concerning the murder of Mr. Coryton" is preserved in

Pentillie Castle.

"To all true Xtian people to whom this present writing shall come, or

shall see, hear or read, Sir Richard Champion, Knt., Lord Mayor, and

the Aldermen of the City of London send greeting in our Lord God

everlasting.

"Forasmuch as among other, the great and manifold deeds and works of

piety and charity, the witnessing and declaration of the truth of all

matters in question, ambiguity or doubt is not to be accounted the

least, but rather as a choice virtue and means whereby the truth, tho'

many times suppressed for a season, doth the rather appear brought

forth into the sight and knowledge of men is with the choicest to be

embraced, extolled, and commended.

"We therefore, the said Lord Mayor and Aldermen, do signify and

declare unto all your honours and worships, unto whom it shall

appertain, and to every of the same, that the days of the date of

these presents hereunder written, there did appear and come personally

before us, the said Mayor and Aldermen, in the Queen's Majesty's

Court, holden before the said Lord Mayor and Aldermen, in the outer

chamber of the Guildhall of the said City, the Deponents hereunder

named, who, upon their own free will, without any manner of coercion

and constraint, upon their corporate oaths upon the holy evangelists

of Almighty God, then and there severally before us taken and made and

exactly examined by one of the clerks of the said Court, said and

deposed in all things as hereafter word for word ensueth.

"_John Philpott_, clerk, Parson of S. Michael in Cornhill of London,

aged 29 years or thereabout, deposed, sworn and examined, the day

hereunder written, saith and deposeth upon his oath that on the ninth

of November last, upon a Saturday, about four of the clock in the

afternoon, but what day of the week it was he doth not now

remember--this examinate was required by Mr. Howes, one of the

Sheriffs of London, and in the name of the other sheriff,[26] that he

would go unto Newgate, and there to examine one Rafe Bartlett,

prisoner within the same place, who was then very sick and like to

die, to the intent to understand of him whether one Peter Curryngton,

whom before he had accused for the murder of his own father, were

culpable therein or no. Whereupon this examinate went to the said gaol

of Newgate, and by the way he did meet with two ministers, the one

named Edward Wilkinson, and the other John Brown, whom he desired to

go with him, who went with him accordingly, and coming to the

aforesaid gaol of Newgate, he desired the keeper that they might talk

with the said Bartlett, and the said keeper went down with them into

the prison, and brought them unto him, and there finding him very sore

sick, persuaded with him, for that he was more like to die than live,

in discharge of his conscience, as he would answer before God, to

declare unto them whether that the aforesaid Peter Curryngton, whom he

had accused to be privy and procurer of him and one Baseley to do the

same murder were true Yea or No.

"Whereupon he confessed and said that he had most untruly accused the

said Peter Curryngton, for he was never privy, nor knew of it, but

that it was he himself and the said Baseley, without the knowledge of

any other, and declared the cause why they had so accused him was, for

that after they were found guilty for the same matter, the Sheriff of

Cornwall did examine them if there were any other privy or procuring

to the same murder; and they agreed together to the intent to preserve

their lives, or at the least to prolong the same, falsely to accuse

the said Peter Curryngton; and the same Bartlett showed himself very

sorry and repentant for his said accusation, saying, 'Think you that

Mr. Curryngton will forgive me?'

"And this examinate answered him, 'There is no doubt he will, for

otherwise he is not of God.' Wherewith he seemed to be satisfied. And

this examinate saith that the said Bartlett died within two or three

days after; and going from him up the stairs, he, the examinate and the

others were brought unto the aforesaid Baseley, who confessed and

declared unto them in everything the innocency of the said Peter

Curryngton, concerning the same murder, and that it was he and the said

Bartlett that committed the same without the knowledge or consent of any

other; and that they did accuse him for the purpose afore alleged, by

the said Bartlett, and more in effect this examinate cannot say.

"_Edward Wilkinson_ of London, Clerk, Parson of the parish church of

S. Antonine in London, aged 33 years or thereabout, deposed, sworn and

examined, the said day and year hereunder written, saith and deposeth

upon his oath, about November last, the exact time the examinate

remembereth not, he did meet one Mr. Philpott, parson of S. Michael in

Cornhill, in Cheapside, who desired this examinate that he would go

back with him to Newgate, who did so, and by the way as they went,

they met with Master Brown, a minister, who likewise went with them to

Newgate, and the deposition of the foresaid Mr. Philpott, being unto

him read, and he, well perusing and understanding the same, saith and

deposeth that all the matter declared and spoken by the said Bartlett,

as it is contained in the deposition of the said Master Philpott, is

very true in all things, and was spoken in the presence and hearing of

this examinate, and further, this examinate saith that the words

likewise spoken and declared by the said Baseley, named in the said

deposition of the said Master Philpott, are likewise very true, and

were in the presence and hearing of this examinate. And further, this

examinate saith that he did persuade and exhort the said Baseley,

saying unto him, 'Take good heed that you do not lie. You have already

murdered one, you have falsely accused another, and you seem to

slander the Sheriff (of Cornwall).' And the said Baseley answered,

'The truth is, Master Sheriff bade me devise some way to save myself,

and I said I could not tell how,--and he said the way (to do so) was

to accuse some other. And he examined me whether there was any one

privy or procuring the said murder, beside ourselves, saying unto me,

"You could not do it alone. There be divers of the Curryngtons. Was

there none of them privy or consenting to the same? You are best to

advise and consider yourself, for the telling the truth in accusation

of others, might be the way to save their (i.e. your own) lives."

Whereupon I returned to the said Bartlett and conferred with him, and

we did agree together falsely to accuse Peter Curryngton, for the

saving of our own lives'; which accusation was untrue, and that the

said Peter Curryngton was very ignorant and innocent of the same

murder; and that he was sorry and did repent that he had accused him

untruly. And more he cannot say.

"_Edmund Marner_, citizen of London and keeper of the Gaol of Newgate,

aged forty-five years or thereabout, deposed, etc. ... saith and

deposeth upon his oath that the 15th day of November last past, being

Saturday, John Philpott, clerk, etc., Edward Wilkinson and John Brown,

ministers, came to the gaol of Newgate from the Sheriff of London, by

a token, to this examinate, to speak with one Rafe Bartlett, prisoner

there, being very sore sick."

The deposition of the gaoler was merely a confirmation of what had

been deposed by the two previous witnesses.

"_William Margytte_, of London, Clerk, Reader of the Morning Prayer in

the Parish of S. Sepulchre, and Ordinary for the Bishop of London, of

the gaol of Newgate, aged forty years, deposed, sworn, and examined,

etc., that about September last past, one Richard Baseley, then being

prisoner in Newgate, and very sore sick, and like to die, did send for

this examinate, to speak with him, and this examinate coming unto him,

he said, 'This is the cause that I send for you. I am very sore sick,

and more like to die than to live, and I think I shall not escape this

sicknesse, and if I do, yet I must die for the law, for I and one of

my neighbours did murder Master Curryngton, which I do not much

repent. But the very cause that I sent for you is to be a means to

Peter Curryngton, his son, whom I have accused to be privy and

procuring of the same murder, that he would forgive me, for I have

falsely accused him. For as I trust to be saved by Christ, he is

utterly ignorant of the same murder, and there was none privy to the

same but he, the said Baseley himself, and the said Bartlett, who

committed the same.' And this examinate demanded of him why he did

accuse Peter Curryngton. And he said that the cause was that after

they were found guilty of the murder, Mr. Trevannyon, Sheriff of

Cornwall, came unto and examined him, as to who was privy to the

murder more than they; saying that they being so simple would not do

the same without assistance; saying further that if he would confess

the truth as to who helped or procured them to do the same, he would

cause his chain to be stricken off, and carry him home with him at

night, and would save his life, though it cost him (sum illegible),

and thereupon in hope of life he did accuse the said Peter Curryngton

falsely and wrongfully; and thereupon he said he would take his death.

And the examinate, persuading him and advising him to repent and be

sorry for the murder of the said Curryngton, calling to God heartily

for mercy and forgiveness of the same. Which in the end with much ado

he seemed to be sorry for ... and also the examinate went into the

same gaol at Newgate, to speak to Roll Bartlett, to understand whether

it were true what the said Baseley had confessed; who declared unto

the examinate, as he should answer before God, that Peter Curryngton

was never privy nor of consent to the murder of his father, and that

there was none privy or knew it but only he and the said Baseley; and

the cause why they did kill him was for that he had misused them many

ways, and also, they thought no man would be sorry for his death. And

this examinate demanded of him the cause wherefore he did accuse the

said Peter Curryngton, he answered, 'The fair promises of the Sheriff,

and to the interest to preserve their lives, or, at least, to prolong

them, was the only cause,' etc.

"In faith and testimony whereof we the said Mayor and Aldermen,--the

common seal of our office of Mayoralty of the said city, to these

presents, have caused to be put, written at the said city of London on

the 23rd day of May, 1566, in the eighth year of the reign of our most

gracious and benign Sovereign Lady Elizabeth, etc., etc."

It would appear that the murdered man had been not only a dragon in

his house, but also in the entire neighbourhood, oppressing his

tenants and disliked by the gentry. It is hard not to suspect that Sir

Hugh Trevanion of Carhayes, who was then Sheriff of Cornwall, bore a

personal grudge against Peter Coryton.

Peter, all obstacle to his marriage being removed, married the lady of

his choice, and by her had three sons and six daughters. He died the

13th August, 1603.

The murderer Baseley died in Newgate, but Bartlett was sent back to

Launceston and there hanged.

But this is not the "end of this shocking affair," for eighty years

after the murder, John Coryton, of Probus, laid claim to the estates

of the then John Coryton, of Newton Ferrers, on the plea that Peter

had forfeited all rights to the inheritance because he had murdered

his father.

"To the Right Hon. Houses of Parliament, now sitting at Westminster.

The Humble Petition of John Coryton of the parish of Probus, in the

County of Cornwall, gent., a great sufferer for and in his Majesty's

cause.

Humbly sheweth--

That yo^r petitioner was and is the son of Scipio Coryton, and Scipio

was son of John, and John was son of Richard Coryton, Esq., of West

Newton Ferrers in the said county of Cornwall, who about eighty years

since was most barbarously murdered by two fellows who were maintained

by the said Richard Coryton, without any cause or hurt to them, and

that the said Richard having three sons, viz. Peter, the firstborn,

Richard the second, John the third, your petitioner's grandfather. The

said Peter his firstborn would have married with one Mr. Wrey's

daughter, to w^h his father would not consent, but threatened his said

son that if he should marry with her that he w^d disinherit him of all

the lands he could. And that he, the said Peter, his firstborn, should

have but a younger son's portion. The said Peter, his firstborn,

insisted in the same match by continuing his suit to her. Being at the

Court in London, his said father purposing his journey for London the

Thursday following, to effect his said purpose of disinheriting his

said son. The said Mr. Wrey living about those parts of West Newton

Ferrers. The Tuesday before walking in part of his said barton of

West Newton, was set upon by these two fellows (their names were

Bartley and Baselly) and cruelly murdered by cutting of his throat.

The fellows were taken and the one died in prison, or was made away

with, the other was brought to Launceston and there hanged without any

confession of who set them on. One of the said Mr. Wrey's sons (viz.)

Edmund, was seen at the place of execution with a black box under his

arm in the sight of the malefactor, who was cast down without any

confession. These murderers being gone, the said Peter married the

said Mr. Wrey's daughter, and entered as heir on his father's estate

with about £2000 per annum, his said brothers having nothing; he gave

a living to Richard, his said brother, during his life. But your

petitioner's grandfather, knowing of the wrong done him, would not

take his brother's small pittance, for he always said that he had

right to a greater part of the estate than he would give him. Your

petitioner's grandfather marrying a gentlewoman who had a small

fortune, went to law with his said brother for his part of the estate,

but being not able to contend with him by reason of his small ability

and the other's greatness, was forced to give over. And he continually

keeped all the estate to the impoverishing of your petitioner's

grandfather, and they that defended him. And your petitioner's father

being not able to contend with him by reason of his poverty, leaving

me, his son, in like case, being not able any other way to seek his

right, but by petitioning to your Honours; your petitioner being

impoverished and brought very low by following his Majesty's service

all along the war in England and Ireland, and with His Highness Prince

Rupert in France also, and other parts where your petitioner received

many cruel wounds and many imprisonments, which I forbare to relate

for burden and trouble to your Honours, your petitioner and his wife

being no longer able to subsist.

"These premises considered, your poor petitioner humbly begs your

Honours that you will be pleased to call John Coryton, Esq., of West

Newton Ferrers, the possessor of the said estates, before your

Honours; or where your Honours shall think fit, to show cause why your

petitioner hath not an inheritance of his said father's estate, which

hath been so long kept from him, and his said father, and your

petitioner shall pray, etc."

The pedigree was as follows:--

Richard Coryton = Anne, dau. of Rich^d

murdered 1565. | Coode of Morval.

+---------------+---------------+

| | |

Jane = Peter Coryton. Richard C. John C.

da. of John | d. 13 Aug., 2nd son. 3rd son.

Wrey, d. 1618. | 1602. |

| |

| |

William C. = Eliz. dau. of Sir Scipio C.

| John Chichester |

| of Rawleigh. |

| |

+----------+ |

| |

Sir John Coryton = Anne, da. of J. Mills John Coryton

bp. July 24, 1621; | of Colebrook. of Probus.

bur. Aug. 23, 1680. | bp. 29 Nov., 1620;

Bart. 1661. | m. 27 Dec., 1643;

| d. 27 Sept., 1677.

V

One little incident may be noted: Richard Coryton, who was murdered,

was one of twenty-four children.

John Coryton of Probus got nothing by his application.

FOOTNOTE:

[26] John Rivers and James Howes were sheriffs.

SIR JAMES TILLIE, KNT.

High above the Tamar where it is most tortuous, and commanding loop upon

loop of this beautiful river, with the blue bank of Dartmoor standing up

in the east as a rising thundercloud, stands a red-brick tower upon an

elevated platform, that is reached by a flight of stone steps.

On the east side of this tower is a recess in the thickness of the wall,

with stone benches, and at the back, high up, is a little window formed

of two slits, through which the interior can be seen only by putting one

foot on the bench and the other on a projecting corbel in the wall. What

is then revealed is an interior open to the sky, and with a statue of a

seated man, life size, opposite, in wig and lace steenkirk, one hand

resting on his knee and the other on the arm of his chair.

There is no door of admission into the tower; a doorway has been

bricked up. Formerly the tower consisted of two storeys, with a floor

above the square chamber in which is the statue, and a roof over the

upper apartment. But roof and floor have gone.

In the summer of 1907 the walled-up doorway had to be opened, so that

a large tree might be cut down that had grown in the midst of the

tower and threatened it with injury. No sooner was it bruited about

that access to the interior was to be had than crowds of visitors came

out from Plymouth and Devonport, expecting to be able to find within

some relics of Sir James Tillie, Bart., whose burial-place was the

lower chamber, where now is only to be seen his statue.

Hals says, the spelling modernized: "About the year 1712 Sir James

Tillie died, and, as I am informed, by his last will and testament

obliged his adopted heir, one Woolley, his sister's son, not only to

assume his name (having no legitimate issue), but that he should not

inter his body after death in the earth, but fasten it in the chair

where he died with wire--his hat, wig, rings, gloves, and best apparel

on, shoes and stockings, and surround the same with an oak chest, box,

or coffin, in which his books and papers should be laid, with pen and

ink also--and build for the reception thereof, in a certain field of

his lands, a walled vault or grot, to be arched with moorstone, in

which repository it should be laid without Christian burial; for that,

as he said but an hour before he died, in two years space he would be

at Pentillie again; over this vault his heir likewise was obliged to

build a fine chamber, and set up therein the picture of him, his lady,

and adopted heir, for ever; and at the end of this vault and chamber

to erect a spire or lofty monument of stone, from thence for

spectators to overlook the contiguous country, Plymouth Sound and

Harbour; all which, as I am told, is accordingly performed by his

heir, whose successors are obliged to repair the same for ever out of

his lands and rents, under penalty of losing both.

"However, I hear lately, notwithstanding this his promise of returning

in two years to Pentillie, that Sir James's body is eaten out with

worms, and his bones or skeleton fallen down to the ground from the

chair wherein it was seated, about four years after it was set up; his

wig, books, wearing apparel, also rotten in the box or chair where it

was first laid."

[Illustration: SIR JAMES TILLIE, KNT.]

The lower chamber, not underground, in which Sir James was seated was

not vaulted over as he directed. The portraits in the upper chamber

have been removed to Pentillie Castle, where they may now be seen.

But, as already intimated, the statue was erected where the body was,

and beneath it is the inscription:--

This Monument is erected

In Memory

of

S^{ir} James Tillie kn^t who dyed

15 of Nov^r

Anno Domini 1713

And in y^e 67^{th} year of his Age.

It is thought--but no evidence exists to show that it was so--that the

bones of Sir James were collected by Mary Jemima, the last of the

Tillie family and the heiress who carried Pentillie to the Coryton

family about 1770, and transferred to the churchyard of S. Mellion.

When the chamber was entered recently and the tree cut down and

eradicated, no traces of the dead man could be found.

Hals, in his MS. _History of Cornwall_, says: "Pentyley a hous and

church built by one Mr. James Tyley, son of ... in ye parish of S.

Keverne, labourer as I am inform'd." The father's name was John. "And

was placed by him a servant or horseman to S^{ir} John Coryton, Bart.,

the Elder, who afterwards by his assistance learning the inferiour

practice of the Lawe under an Atturney, became his Steward, in which

caracter by his Care and Industry he soon grew Rich, soe that he

marryed Sir Henry Vane's daughter; by whome he had a good fortune or

estate, but noe issue; at Length after the Death of his Master (1680)

he became a Guardian in Trust for his younger children, and Steward

to their elder Brother, Sir John, that marryed Chiverton, whereby he

augmented his wealth and fame to a greater pitch. When, soon after,

King James II came to the Crown, this gentleman by a great sume of

money and false representation of himselfe obtained the favour of

knighthood at his hands, but that Kinge some short while after beinge

inform'd that Mr. Tyley was at first but a Groome or Horseman to Sir

John Coryton, that he was no Gentleman of Blood or armes, and yet gave

for his Coat-armour the armes of Count Tillye of Germany, ordered the

Heraulds to enquire into this matter; who findinge this information

trew, by the King's order entered his Chamber at London, tooke downe

those arms, tore others in pieces, and fastened them all to Horse

tayles and drew them through the streets of London, to his perpetuall

Disgrace, and disgraced him from the dignity of that beinge, and

impos'd a fyne of £500 upon him for so doing, as I am inform'd--but

alas, maugre all those proceedings, after the death of his then

Master, Sir John Coryton the Younger, not without suspicion of being

poysoned, he soon marryed his Lady, with whome Common fame said he was

too familiar before, soe that he became possest of her goods and

chattels, and a great Joynture. Whereby he liveth in much pleasure and

comfort in this place, honour'd of some, lov'd of none; admiring

himself for the Bulk of his Riches and the Arts and Contrivances by

which he gott it--some of which were altogether unlawfull, witness his

steward, Mr. Elliott, being credited for a mint and coyning false

money for his use; who on notice thereof forsooke this Land, and fled

beyond the Seas, though the other Agent and Confederate, Cavals

Popjoye, indicted for the same crime of High Treason committed at

Saltash, was taken, tryed and found guilty and executed at Lanceston,

1695, at which tyme the writer of these Lynes was one of the Grand

Jury for the body of this County, that found those Bills--when William

Williams of Treworgy in Probus Esq. was sheriff, and John Waddon,

Esq., foreman of the Jury."

After this, written at a later date, comes the passage relative to the

burial arrangements of Sir James, already quoted.

With regard to the above statement, a few remarks may be made. Sir

John Coryton died in 1680, just after he had obtained a licence for

concluding a second marriage with Anne Wayte, of Acton, widow.

His son, Sir John, married Elizabeth, daughter and co-heiress of Sir

Richard Chiverton, Kt., Lord Mayor of London, and a wealthy skinner.

Sir James Tillie's first wife was Margaret, daughter of Sir Harry

Vane, the Parliamentarian, who was executed in 1662. Tillie was

knighted at Whitehall, 14th January, 1686-7, and he built Pentillie

Castle. In one of the quadrangles of the castle is a leaden statue of

the knight with flowing wig, a roll of papers in one hand like the

baton of a field-marshal, and with preternaturally short legs.

In Luttrell's _Brief Relation of State Affairs_ there is some mention

of the affair of the assumed arms. He says, under date November 26th,

1687: "Sir James Tillie of Cornwall was brought up upon an habeas

corpus, being committed by the Court of Chivalry for refusing to find

bail there, and was remanded.

"January 19th, 1687-8. The Court of Chivalry satt, and fined Sir James

Tilly £200 for his crime."

Hals, accordingly, was wrong in saying that he was fined £500.

Hals thinks (he does no more) that Sir James was mixed up in the

coining business. If he got rich by nefarious practices, it was

probably by filling his pockets out of the Coryton estates, of which

he was steward under two of the baronets.

Sir James Tillie's will by no means carries with it the character of

impiety attributed to it by Hals. It is headed: "Dei voluntas fiat, et

mei hac performet." In it he mentions the date of his birth, November

16th, 1645. It is a very long will, and in it he laboured in every

conceivable way to found a family. As he had no children of his own,

he made his eldest nephew heir, but in the event of his dying without

issue, then his estates passed to his second, and so on. At the end he

wrote: "I desire my Body may have a private interment at and in such a

place in Pentillie Castle as I have acquainted my dearest wife, the

Lady Elizabeth Tillie, with, and to have such monument erected and

inscription thereon made as I have desired my said wife."

The paper of instructions left with her is still extant; of that more

presently. He proceeds: "Although I have made a provision for my said

wife out of my Lands, yet in regard to her kindness to me whilst

living, and that tenderness to my memory which I know she will have

after my death, for the uses hereinafter mentioned, I give and

bequeath unto my said wife all her Paraphaanalia [_sic_], apparell,

jewells and ornaments of her Person, all the Books, China, Portraits

and Toyes in her Closett at Pentillie Castle, my Coach, Chariott,

Calash and set of six horses with two such of my other Horses and

Cowes as shall please her to elect, and also a Hundred Guineas in

money for her life and then for her grandchildren.

"To Altmira Tillie go the £500 payable on the day of marriage with

either one of my said nephews. But on her marriage with any other my

will is that she shall have only £250.

"To my Cousin Mary Mattock £50 to be paid on her marriage Day with

any other than William Parkes, but on her marriage with him this

legacy is to be void.

"_Then_ I give unto my said Wife fifty pounds for my ffunerall desireing

four of my ancientest workmen may lay me in my grave, unto whom I give

fforty shillings apiece. And to William Trenaman ten pounds. And to my

honest Richard Lawreate in Meate and Drink for his owne person to the

value of Two shillings and sixpence per weeke at Pentillie during his

Life. To my domestique servants living with me at my Death fforty

shillings each, To Samuel Holman his Tooles, and to John Long a joynt of

Mutton weekly during his Life, as I have done. In witness thereof I have

hereunto sett my hand and seal this 22nd day of March, 1703/4, etc."

One very curious and most unusual feature in the proving of this will

was that the original was handed over to James Tillie, the nephew, in

place of an attested copy, and only a copy retained in the Consistory

Court.

As Sir James had no right to bear arms, his nephew, James Tillie,

obtained a grant from the Heralds' College, November 1st, 1733. The

arms given him were as follows: _Arg., a cross fleury gules, in chief

three eagles' heads couped, sable_; and as a crest, on a wreath of the

colours, _a demi-phœnix rising out of flames ppr. and charged on the

breast with a cross fleury sa_.

The memorandum referred to by Sir James in his will, containing

instructions as to his burial, is still extant, and it is by no means

as extravagant as represented by Hals.

Gilpin, in his _Observations on the West Parts of England_, 1798, gave

currency to the story as amplified by tradition, and thenceforth it

was generally accepted and obtained currency.

Gough, in his Camden's _Britannia_, 1789, says: "In the rocks of

Whitsand Bay, Tilly, Esq., who died about fifty years ago, remarkable

for the freedom of his principles and life, was inclosed by his own

order, dressed in his clothes, sitting, his face to the door of a

summer-house at Pentelly, the key put under the door, and his figure

in wax, in the same dress and attitude in the room below."

Gough makes several mistakes. Pentillie is a great many miles from

Whitsand Bay, and he was placed not among rocks, but on the summit of

a hill called Ararat. The figure carved in the attitude in which

placed to rest is in sandstone, and not in wax; and finally it is not

in a summer-house, but in a lofty brick tower, erected after his

death, the bill for the erection of which is still in existence.

Notwithstanding all his schemes to found a family, his posterity failed

in the male line, and the castle and Tillie lands passed as follows:--

John Tillie,

labourer, S. Kevern.

|

+--------+-------------+

| |

(2) Elizab. = (1) Margaret = Sir James Tillie. da. = Woolley.

da. Sir R. da. of Sir b. Nov. 16, 1645. |

Chiverton and H. Vane. |

wid. of Sir |

John Coryton. |

|

+------------------+

|

Wm. Goodall = Elizabeth, James Tillie Woolley = Esther ....

| da. Sir John als. Tillie, Sheriff |

| Coryton. of Cornwall, 1734. |

| |

+---------+ +----------+

| |

John Goodall = Margery Major. James Tillie = Mary ....

| |

+------+ |

| |

Peter Goodall = .... |

d. 1756. | +------------------------+

| |

John Coryton = Mary Jemima Tillie.

|

+-----+

|

John Tillie Coryton,

b. 1773; d. 1843.

[Illustration: SIR JAMES TILLIE'S MONUMENT AT PENTILLIE]

There was an illustrious and ancient family of Tilly, or Tylly, at

Cannington, in Somersetshire, deriving from a De Tilly in the reign of

Henry II, and the parish of West Harptree in the same county is

divided into two manors, one of which is West Harptree-Tilly. The arms

of this Tilly family were only a dragon erect, _sable_, and as such

appear in glass in the windows of Cannington Church.

That Sir James Tillie could claim no descent from this family is

evident from his not assuming their arms. Had the Heralds been able to

trace any connection whatever, they would have given to the nephew a

coat resembling the Tilly arms of Cannington but not identical.

It must be borne in mind that the possession of a surname of a noble

or gentle family by no means indicates that the bearer had a drop of

that family's blood in his veins; for it was quite a common thing when

surnames began to be acquired for the domestic servants in a house to

be called after their master, or that they should assume their

patronymics, much as in _High Life Below Stairs_ the menial servants

assume the titles of their masters as well as their names. This

practice was so common that always in the neighbourhood of a great

house, that has lived on through many centuries, will be found among

the villagers in a very humble walk of life persons bearing the

surname of the illustrious family in the castle, the hall, or the

manor. How a dependent of the Tilly family of Cannington drifted down

to the Lizard is not easily explained; it may be that this Tilly was

descended from one of the regiments that Charles I sent down to the

Scilly Isles, and which was left there and forgotten.

LIEUTENANT JOHN HAWKEY

Joseph Hawkey, of Liskeard, and his wife Amye, daughter of the Rev. John

Lyne, had a numerous family. John was the eldest son, born at Liskeard

in 1780; the other sons were William, Joseph, Richard, and Charles.

There was also a daughter Charlotte, born at Liskeard 10th May, 1799.

Lieutenant Joseph Hawkey, R.N., born at Liskeard in 1786, was killed

in action while commanding a successful attack on a Russian flotilla

in the Gulf of Finland in 1809.

John also entered the navy, as midshipman in the _Minerva_. A few

months after the renewal of the war in 1803 he was taken prisoner

whilst gallantly defending that ship, when she was unfortunately run

by the pilot, during a dense fog, on the west point of the stone dyke

of Cherbourg. Hawkey remained in captivity at Verdun for eleven years,

till 1814.

A commission of lieutenant had been sent out to him by mistake to the

West Indies, which being dated previous to his capture was not

cancelled, but forwarded to him in France, and was thus the means in

some degree of alleviating the evils of captivity. Whilst at Verdun he

made the acquaintance of Lieutenant Tuckey, R.N., a person like himself

a prisoner, and like him of fine taste and considerable talents.

His prospects had been cruelly clouded by his long detention in

captivity, and on the conclusion of peace he at once joined the

_Cyrus_, sloop of war; but when the Government proposed to send out

an expedition to explore the Zaire or Congo, and appointed Tuckey in

command, Lieutenant Hawkey eagerly accepted the invitation of his

friend to join him and act as second in command.

At this time little was known of the Congo and the Niger. Hitherto

what was known was due to Arabian writers of the Middle Ages, and to

what leaked out from the Portuguese; but these latter, who carried on

an extensive slave trade thence, did their utmost to keep their

knowledge of these rivers to themselves. But even they were not well

acquainted with the rivers far up from their mouths. Mungo Park was

preparing for his second expedition to explore the Niger, and it was

even supposed that the Congo or Zaire that flows into the South

Atlantic was an outlet of the Niger, and not an independent river; and

this opinion was warmly expounded by Park in a memoir addressed to

Lord Camden previous to his departure from England, and he added that,

if this should turn out to be a fact, "considered in a commercial

point of view, it is second only to the discovery of the Cape of Good

Hope; and, in a geographical point of view, it is certainly the

greatest discovery that remains to be made in this world."

On March 19th, 1816, the _Congo_, accompanied by the _Dorothy_

transport, sailed on a voyage of exploration to the Zaire. The _Congo_

was about ninety tons, schooner rigged, and drew five feet of water.

She was fitted up entirely for the accommodation of officers and men,

and for the reception of the objects of natural history which might be

collected on her progress up the river. The gentlemen engaged on the

expedition, in the scientific department, were: Professor Smith, of

Christiania, botanist and geologist; Mr. Tudor, comparative anatomist;

Mr. Cranch, collector of objects of natural history; and a gardener

to gather plants and seeds for Kew; also Mr. Galway, a gentleman

volunteer. There were two negroes, who would serve as interpreters,

one of whom came from eight hundred miles up the Zaire. The officers

were: Captain Tuckey, Lieutenant Hawkey, Mr. Fitzmaurice, master and

surveyor, Mr. McKernow, assistant surgeon, two master's mates, and a

purser. In addition to the _Congo_, the transport took out two double

whale-boats, so fitted as to be able to carry eighteen to twenty men,

with three months' provisions.

Lieutenant Hawkey was an excellent draughtsman; he sketched in a bold

and artistic manner, and to a general knowledge of natural history he

united the talent of painting the minutest sea and land animals with

great spirit and accuracy.

Although the vessels sailed from Deptford on February 16th, they were

detained in the Channel and at Falmouth by westerly gales till March

19th. On April 9th they reached the Cape de Verd Islands, whence he

wrote home to his sister Charlotte:--

"PORTO PRAYA, S. JAGO, _August 11th, 1816_.

"My Angel,--I am just able to hold my pen and tell you that I am alive,

after being as near death as ever mortal being was. The day before

yesterday we arrived here. Captain Tuckey and myself went to wait on the

governor, the commissary, and captain of the transport, to procure

refreshments. We were graciously received--saluted by his black

guards--took a walk in the country--returned, intending to go on board

to dinner. There is a heavy surf on the beach, and squalls are very

frequent from the mountains; one of which, when we were about a cable's

length from the shore, upset our boat. I intended swimming composedly on

shore, but something or some person caught my leg, and I could not by

any exertion get my head above water. It instantly struck me that some

one who could not swim had seized me, hoping to save himself; and I swam

in what I conceived to be the direction of the shore, under water. My

senses I preserved as fully as at present. O Lord, methought, what pain

it was to drown! What dreadful noise of water in my ears! I thought my

last hour was come. Still I struggled violently, but finding it

impossible to retain my breath longer, I took off my hat and held it

above the water. A black boy, who had swam off with several other, got

hold of it, and then of me. From that moment all recollection ceased

until I found myself with my stomach on an empty cask on the beach,

surrounded by my own party and blacks. My sufferings were very acute;

the absolute pain of dying--which ceremony I completely underwent--was

nothing in comparison. The different means prescribed for the recovery

of drowned persons were used; and as soon as possible I was conveyed on

board. A determination of blood to the head and lungs took place; all

night I was in danger; but it is now going fast off, but I am in a state

of absolute debility. Captain Tuckey says I was more than five minutes

under water--a longer time than the most experienced divers can remain.

Note, I was in full uniform--boots, sword--and my pockets full of stones

and shells I had picked up on shore. Captain Tuckey lost his sword; his

watch and mine are both spoiled."

Cape Padrone, at the mouth of the Congo, was reached on July 6th. The

transport was left a little way up, and the party of exploration

pushed on up the river. The mouth of the Congo was found to be about

fifteen miles wide. Far inland were seen naked hills of sand.

Professor Smith wrote in his diary:--

"July 7th.--Early this morning the mafock, or governor, came on board

in two canoes, with his retinue. At first his pretensions were very

lofty. He insisted on being saluted with a discharge of cannon, and on

observing us going to breakfast declared that he expected to be placed

at the same table with the captain, and endeavoured to make his words

sufficiently impressive by haughty gesticulations. Sitting on the

quarter-deck in a chair covered with a flag, his dress consisting of a

laced velvet cloak, a red cap, a piece of stuff round his waist,

otherwise naked, with an umbrella over his head, though the weather

was cold and cloudy, he represented the best caricature I ever saw. He

soon became more moderate on being informed that the vessels were not

belonging to slave merchants, but to the King of England, and that our

object was to trade. In order to give him a proof of our goodwill

towards him, a gun was discharged and a merchant flag hoisted."

A good many negroes after this came on board. They were nearly all

nominally Christians. Among them was a Catholic priest, who had been

ordained at Loando. He had been baptized two years before his

ordination at S. Antonio.

"The barefooted black apostle, however, had no fewer than five wives.

A few crosses on the necks of the negroes, some Portuguese prayers,

and a few lessons taught by heart, are the only fruits that remain of

the labours (of the Portuguese missionaries) of three hundred years."

Proceeding up the river, threading a tangle of islands and sandbanks,

the vessels stood off Embonna, where they came across an American

slaver flying Swedish colours. Here there had been several Portuguese

slave-dealing ships, but on hearing of the arrival in the river of

the English vessels during the night they slipped away.

On July 25th they came to the Fetiche Rock, a mass of micaceous granite

rising perpendicularly out of the river, with eddies and whirlpools at

its feet. The surface of the rock is covered with sculptured figures,

which Lieutenant Hawkey drew, and which he managed to interpret.

On July 26th Captain Tuckey and others landed at Lombee, a village of

a hundred huts, and the king's market, and here they went to visit the

chenoo, or king.

"Having seated myself," wrote Tuckey, "the chenoo made his appearance

from behind a mat-screen, his costume conveying the idea of Punch in a

puppet show, being composed of a crimson plush jacket with curious

gilt buttons, a lower garment in the native style in red velvet, his

legs muffled in pink sarsenet, and a pair of red morocco half-boots.

On his head an immense high-crowned hat embroidered with gold, and

surmounted by a kind of coronet of European artificial flowers. Having

seated himself on the right, a master of the ceremonies with a long

staff in his hand inquired into the rank of the gentlemen, and seated

them accordingly.

"All being seated, I explained to the chenoo, by the interpreter, the

motives of my mission--stating that 'the King of England being equally

good as he was powerful, and having conquered all his enemies and made

peace in all Europe, he now sent his ships to all parts of the world to

do good to all people, and to see what they wanted and what they had to

exchange; that for this purpose I was going up the river, and that, on

my return to England, English trading vessels would bring them the

objects necessary to them, and teach them to build houses and make

clothes.' These benevolent intentions were, however, far beyond their

comprehension; and as little could they be made to understand that

curiosity was also one of the motives of our visit, or that a ship could

come such a distance for any other purpose but to trade or fight; and

for two hours they rung the changes on the questions, Are you come to

trade? and Are you come to make war? At last, however, they appeared to

be convinced that I came for neither purpose; and on my assuring them

that though I did not trade myself I should not meddle with the slave

traders of any nation, they expressed their satisfaction.

"The keg of spiced rum which I had brought as part of my present to the

chenoo was now produced, together with an English white earthen washhand

basin covered with dirt, into which some of the liquor was poured and

distributed to the company, the king saying he drank only wine, and

retiring to order dinner. The moment he disappeared, the company began

to scramble for a sup of the rum; and one fellow, dropping his dirty cap

into the basin, as if by accident, contrived to snatch it out again well

soaked, and sucked it with great satisfaction."

Here Captain Tuckey learned that the traders carried off on an average

two thousand slaves every year.

Hence, on August 5th, Captain Tuckey, Lieutenant Hawkey, and the

scientific gentlemen proceeded up the river in the double boat, the

transport's longboat, two gigs, and a punt. In addition to those

already mentioned were some of the sailors and the interpreters.

On August 10th the expedition reached Noki, where the river was rapid

and difficult, running between high bluffs, and Professor Smith

likened it to one of the torrent streams of Norway. On reaching Caran

Yellatu progress was arrested by cataracts, and the party was forced

to quit the boats and push on by land. Here one of the interpreters

deserted, carrying away with him four of the best porters who had been

engaged at Embonna.

"Every man I have conversed with," says Tuckey, "acknowledges that if

the white man did not come for slaves the practice of kidnapping would

no longer exist, and the wars which nine times out of ten result from

the European slave trade would be proportionately less frequent. The

people at large most assuredly desire the cessation of a trade in

which, on the contrary, all the great men, deriving a large portion of

their revenue from the presents it produces, as well as the slave

merchants, are interested in its continuance."

At Juga the river again widened, and this was made a basis for

excursions by land up the river.

On the 10th September Captain Tuckey found it impossible to proceed

further; sickness and death were making terrible ravages among the

party, and it became absolutely necessary to relinquish the enterprise

and endeavour to make their way back to the vessels. On the following

day Captain Tuckey's journal records that they "had a terrible

march--worse to us than the retreat from Moscow."

Of this return journey we have an account from Lieutenant Hawkey's

diary. When Sir John Barrow published an account of the expedition

from the journals of Captain Tuckey and Professor Smith the diary of

Hawkey was not obtainable; it had been lost, and was not recovered for

some years; and then, when given for publication, was again lost, and

only the concluding pages were to be found. It shall be given,

somewhat curtailed.

"September 9th.--Our Ultima Thule. Sketched by the setting sun the

appearance of the river, a thousand ideas rushing into my mind: the

singularity of my situation, its contrast with my captivity, and

equally so with my wishes. Here, probably, my travels are to end; but

Heaven knows for what I am destined, and I resign myself. Passed a

sleepless night, and wandered on the beach, wishing, but in vain, for

sleep. Captain Tuckey ill all night.

"September 10th.--A fine grey morning. Packing up for our return--a

great assemblage of natives, one with a gay red cap. Bought six fowls

for an umbrella. Dr. Smith sketched our last view of the mighty Zaire.

Set out and soon found Dawson very sick; obliged to give his arms and

knapsack to others, and to lead him and give him wine occasionally.

Halted at Vonke, where I got into a scrape by touching Amaza's

fetiche, for which, it being ruined, he wanted a fathom of chintz,

which I gave him. It is forbidden to touch a fetiche or to carry fowls

with their heads downwards. Bought a goat for an umbrella. Bargaining

for a canoe for the sick and luggage; procured one, and embarked poor

Dawson. Tuckey ill; at Masakka had a specimen of African hospitality:

Tuckey, fainting and ill, could not obtain a drop of palm wine until

it was paid for exorbitantly. Peter gave the cap from his head, and

Tuckey his handkerchief and the last beads. To his being faint they

paid not the least regard. About two miles from Sirndia all our guides

abandoned us. However, we found our way, and on our arrival the tent

and luggage, just landed.

"September 11th.--Hazy, cloudy; feel a little ill. Canoes assembling;

bargained for two for six fathoms and four handkerchiefs. A world of

trouble with them--three strokes of the paddle and stop; wanted to

land us above the rapid; obliged to threaten to put them to death. At

last got them to a rapid that stopped us, where we landed and again

grumbled on. One fellow attempted to snatch the piece from Captain

Tuckey's hand. Met here with some of our old friends, and bargained

with the man whose canoe was stove on the 7th to take us to Juga. The

bearers are to have two fathoms each, and himself a dress. Encamped at

Bemba Ganga. Broached our last bottle of wine.

"September 12th.--A grey morning. Bought four fowls for two empty

bottles, and four more for some beads. Embarked in a canoe and set

off. About ten arrived at Ganga and had to wait for a canoe;

atmosphere much changed. Hitherto we had found the blacks honest

enough, but here they gave us specimens of being as great thieves as

they were cowards. The canoe in which the sick men came down was

robbed of some check and baft (coarse cloth). One fellow attempted to

steal a carbine. Ben (the black interpreter) lost his greatcoat, which

the fellow he trusted with it ran away with, and our barometer was

stolen in the night. Dr. Smith was taken ill here. We encamped in the

valley of Demba, where we were assailed by ants in myriads, and got no

sleep. After dusk we were informed that the men whom we had hired at

Bemba as canoe men had run away.

"September 13th.--From 7 a.m. until 6 p.m. no refreshments excepting

earth-nuts, palm-wine, and water. However, we persevered, and at dusk

reached Juga, where we found Butler sick, and had the misery of being

told that poor Tudor and Cranch were no more, Galway despaired of, and

many of the crew sick. Melancholy enough, God knows, but hold on.

Mansa, the slave, has deserted with poor Galway's knapsack.

"September 14th.--Mizzling rain; melancholy morning. The captain and

Dr. Smith sick. Packing up for ship. Hodder sets out with ten men and an

advanced guard. Dr. Smith worse; decide on removing him to-day;

difficulty in getting bearers; prepared hammocks for the sick. At noon

both the captain and Dr. Smith better; Dawson rather worse; get Butler

into a house. Corporal Middleton arrives with the sad news of Galway's

death, that of poor Stirling and Berry, and a long list of sick. Here I

am in the tent. Poor Tuckey ill, asleep, or perhaps feigning it to avoid

conversation. Dr. Smith groaning under a rheumatic fever, and his trusty

David Lockhart attending him. My ideas are wandering round the world,

and the only consolation is that perhaps it may be the means of my

seeing my dear European friends sooner than I had expected. Five only of

the _Congo's_ are capable of duty, except the warrant officers. Saturday

night. God bless you all, my dear, dear friends!

"September 15th.--Broke up at Juga, and such a scene I never before

witnessed, and hope never to witness again. As soon as Tuckey was

gone, the natives rushed in upon us like so many furies, each taking

what he could get hold of; the things we were obliged to abandon. A

part of our guides and bearers ran away with the things they were to

carry, and poor Butler was obliged to come away with only two bearers,

who tottered under him, and who were mocked by their compassionate

countrymen. I left him near the ravine of Bondé, and passed on to

Dawson, who was coming on pretty well, as he had four bearers and was

not very heavy. Not far from Vouchin-semnis we were assailed with

horrid shrieks and cries, and soon saw a dozen women, or rather

furies, holding their idols towards us, rolling their eyes, foaming at

the mouth, and making the most violent contortions. They had lost

some manioc, and were exorcising the thieves. I believe the gangam

(priest) had accused us of the robbery. We continued our march, rather

a forced one, to Noki. Far different was the night, and far different

our feelings, on the 23rd of last month! I was colder than charity,

and it rained very hard for more than two hours.

"September 16th.--Started from Juga. Captain and party on foot, and Dr.

Smith in a hammock. Dr. Smith very weak; obliged to take him out of his

hammock, and William Burton, a marine, carried him on his back, up

almost precipices, to Banza, where we had great difficulty in getting a

little water, which was only obtained by the double influence of a

threat to shoot them and a present of some powder. Arrived at the beach,

where we found all in confusion. No canoes to be had, in consequence of

a taboo from the King of Vinni, who had not received his dues from

Sanquila, who says, on his side, it is in consequence of the commanding

officer of the _Congo_ having threatened to put some one in irons.

Seized the man who appeared to be the chief cause of the opposition, and

at the same time fired at, brought to, and seized five fishing-canoes,

and shortly after obtained two larger from a creek, when we liberated

three of the fishermen's canoes and the head-man.

"September 17th.--Preparing for embarkation. Finding no paddlers come,

pressed two men and set out, crossing over to the south shore to avoid

the whirlpools. When we left men were assembling fast on the hills, and

told us we had killed a man last night. Beached the canoes and ate some

goat's flesh. So returned on board and reached the _Congo_. Found our

vessel in a horrid state of confusion and filth; stuffed with parrots,

monkeys, puppies, pigeons, etc. The carpenter cutting up the last plank

to make coffins. The deck lumbered as when we left her, and not a

wind-sail up! No stock on board; the sick in double boats and tents

pitched on shore. My cabin filthy as a hog-stye. Passed a sleepless

night. Dr. Smith very unwell, and Captain Tuckey very little better.

"September 18th.--A little after daylight, Captain Tuckey, Dr. Smith,

and myself left the _Congo_. Passed M'Bima. The river is very much

risen; eagles hovering over us all the way down. Arrived on board the

_Dorothy_ at 3 p.m. Got Dr. Smith to bed; refreshed ourselves, and

thought the air here quite reviving, and a clean ship the greatest of

luxuries. All on board the _Dorothy_ had been well, except the

carpenter, who was convalescent, and a boy who had been up in the

longboat, and was in the same state.

"September 19th.--Sloop's boat arrived with the sick, and Johnson

dead. Went on shore with Captain Gunther and some of the transport's

people, and buried him--so putrid that I was obliged to bury him in

his cot, with all his bedding.

"September 20th.--Sick improving generally; transport getting ready

for sea. _Congo_ not in sight. Sent skiff to _Congo_. At 6 p.m. Garth

dies. Skiff returns; has left _Congo_ near Augsberg Island. Parrots

prevent all possibility of sleeping to the sick.

"September 21st.--Hazy morning. _Congo_ not in sight at nine. An order

for all parrots to be before the fore-hatchway. Buried Garth. Durnford

and Burton attacked with fever; Lockhart unwell, and Ben. Two of

transport's people ill. Jefferies, fever; Ben wishes to remain at

M'Bima. At 6 p.m. _Congo_ and schooner anchored here. Dr. Smith

appears to be in a stupor.

"September 22nd.--Close morning. Getting stores, etc., from _Congo_;

cleaning her decks; preparing to get her water-tanks filled. Dr. Smith

still in a stupor. Sick generally better, except the captain and

Parker. Weighed with _Dorothy_ and sloop; beat down with sea-breeze.

Dr. Smith, poor fellow, dies, quite worn out; in some measure from his

own imprudent treatment of himself, constantly refusing to follow the

doctor's advice or to take any medicine; cold water was his only

specific. He died without a groan. Mild, affable, and learned, it was

his greatest pleasure to communicate information, and to receive it.

He had conciliated the affections of all his fellow-passengers, and

even of all the crews of both vessels. Anchored at dark, sloop not in

sight. Hoisted a light, to be kept up all night.

"September 23rd.--At night buried the mortal remains of Dr. Smith, as

silently as possible. No sloop in sight; very uneasy on account of the

sick. Hot weather; sprinkled with vinegar; Tuckey much better. Sloop

arrives; reason of not joining before, does not beat well.

"September 24th.--Cloudy morning; small rain. _Dorothy_ sets up her

rigging. Set sail on _Dorothy_, but she could not stem the current,

which is very strong. The corporal, Middleton, is the only man out of

the sick list.

"September 25th.--Cloudy morning; land breeze until noon. Two bottles

of wine were stolen from the sick last night. _Congo_ in sight, and

schooner, the latter coming up the river; anchored here. Removed all

the sick from the sloop to the _Dorothy_.

"September 26th.--Grey morning. Paid our blacks, and as soon as we

weighed turned them adrift in the large canoe. Weighed and worked

round Sharks' Point; felt quite happy when to the westward of it. On

the 5th July we entered the _Congo_, and since then thirteen of our

party have died and one has been drowned. Sick generally better;

seventeen on the list. Tuckey hailed for assistance previous to our

weighing; talks of giving up charge."

On September 30th Lieutenant Hawkey enters the death of Lethbridge and

of Eyre.

On October 1st enters: "Taken very unwell myself--universal debility

and slight headache.

"October 2nd.--Cloudy. Standing to the west all day. Very unwell.

"October 3rd.--Cloudy, with swell. Still very unwell. Swallow caught."

This is the last entry in the diary. On the day following Captain Tuckey

died; and on October 6th Lieutenant Hawkey's own name was added to the

fatal list of those who perished in this most disastrous expedition. In

all eighteen died in the short space of less than three months during

which they remained in the river, or within a few days after leaving it.

Fourteen of these were of the party that had set out on the land journey

above Juga; the other four were attacked on board the _Congo_; two had

died on the passage out, and the sergeant of marines in the hospital at

Bahia, making the total of deaths amount to twenty-one.

This great mortality is the more extraordinary, as it appears from

Captain Tuckey's journal that nothing could have been finer than the

climate: the atmosphere was remarkably dry, and scarcely a shower fell

during the whole journey, and the sun for three or four days did not

shine sufficiently to allow of an observation being taken.

It appears from the report of the assistant surgeon that the greater

number were carried off by a violent intermittent fever; some of them

appeared, however, to have had no other ailment than that caused by

extreme exhaustion caused by the land journey. Some of the crew of the

_Congo_ died of the fever who never went above the cataracts; "but

then," as the surgeon observes, "they were permitted to go on shore at

liberty, where the day was passed in running about the country, and

during the night lying in huts or in the open air."

The _Gentleman's Magazine_ for January, 1817, gives a brief summary of

the achievements of the expedition. "They arrived at the mouth of the

Congo about the 3rd July, and leaving the transport, which only

accompanied them an inconsiderable distance, they proceeded in the

sloop, which was purposely built to draw little water, up the river to

the extent of 120 miles, when her progress, and even that of the

boats, was stopped by rapids. Determined still to prosecute the

undertaking, the men landed, and it was not till they had marched 150

miles over a barren, mountainous country, and after experiencing the

greatest privations from want of water, and being entirely exhausted

by fatigue, that they gave up the attempt. Hope stayed them up till

they reached the vessel, but they were so worn out that twenty-five

out of the fifty-five died twenty-four hours after their return,

comprehending all the scientific part of those who started, and only

eight were left on board in a state fit to navigate the vessel."

That there is some inaccuracy in this account will be seen from what

has preceded it.

The authority for the story of this unfortunate expedition is Sir John

Barrow's edition of the narrative of the expedition, with the diary of

Captain Tuckey, published in 1819; and Miss Charlotte Hawkey's

_Neota_, privately printed in 1871.

DR. DANIEL LOMBARD

Lanteglos with Camelford is one of the richest livings in Cornwall.

Lanteglos itself is nearly two miles from Camelford, and in this

latter place there is neither a church nor a licensed chapel. A few

scattered farms are about Lanteglos; and in Camelford, which is a

market town, there is a population of 1370, left to be ministered to

in holy things by dissenting ministers of many sects.

The rectory of Lanteglos lies in a valley, amidst luxuriant

vegetation, and is altogether a very snug spot indeed.

In February, 1718, the Rev. Daniel Lombard was inducted into this

living on the presentation of the Prince of Wales. He was a Frenchman,

the son of a Huguenot pastor, who had fled from his native land on the

Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Daniel had been placed in Merchant

Taylors' School, and thence had passed to S. John's College, Oxford,

where he had taken his degree of Doctor of Divinity, and he became

chaplain to the Princess of Wales, and in 1714 published a sermon that

he had preached before the Princess Sophia at Hanover. He spent a good

deal of time in Germany, and there made the acquaintance of Mr.

Gregor, of Trewarthenick, with whom in after life he maintained a

lengthy correspondence, still extant.

From all accounts Dr. Lombard was learned on certain lines, but he was

totally unacquainted with the ways of the world, utterly unsuited to

be a parish priest, and lost completely in the isolation of Lanteglos,

far from society in which he could shine; and speaking English badly

with a foreign accent.

After his institution by the Bishop of Exeter to the livings of

Lanteglos juxta Camelford and that of Advent, Dr. Lombard started off

to reach his cure, mounted on one horse, and his servant on another,

driving a third laden with such articles as appeared to him to be

indispensable in a country where he supposed that nothing was

procurable.

He rode in this manner along the highway past Launceston, inquiring

everywhere, "Vere ish Landéglo juxtà Camélvore?" No one had heard of the

place; after some consideration the rustics pointed due west. He must go

on one or two days' journey more. He thus travelled through Camelford,

still inquiring "Mais où donc est Landéglo juxtà Camélvore?"

"I know what he means," said some of those questioned; "the gentleman

is seeking the Land's End."

And so he travelled on and ever on till he reached the Land's End, and

only then discovered that he had passed through his cure without

knowing it.

When at last he reached Lanteglos rectory, the woman who acted as

housekeeper showed him with much pride a hen surrounded by a large brood

of chickens. "Deare me!" exclaimed the Doctor. "'Ow can von liddle moder

afford to give milk from her breast to soche a large familie?"

Seeing sheep with red ruddle on their fleeces, "Pore things!" said he.

"'Ow 'ot dey do seem to be! Dey be red 'ot!"

He collected a tolerable library of books, and occupied himself with

writing one work in French, a Dissertation on the Utility of History,

introductory to strictures on certain histories that had been

published by De Mezeray and the Père Daniel. But he also wrote in

English _A Succinct History of Ancient and Modern Persecutions_,

together with a short essay on _Assassinations and Civil Wars_, 1747.

He died at Camelford, December 14, 1746, and left his library for the

use of his successor.

THE DREAM OF MR. WILLIAMS

John Williams, of Scorrier, was the son of Michael Williams, of

Gwennap, and was born 23rd September, 1753. He was the most extensive

mining adventurer in Cornwall.

On May 11, 1812, Mr. Perceval, Chancellor of the Exchequer, was shot

in the evening, just as he entered the lobby of the House of Commons,

by a man called Bellingham, who had concealed himself behind a door.

On that same night, Mr. Williams, of Scorrier, had three remarkable

dreams, in each of which he saw the whole transaction as distinctly as

if he had been present there in person.

His attested statement, relative to these dreams, was drawn up and

signed by him in the presence of the Rev. Thomas Fisher and Mr. Chas.

Prideaux Brune. This account, the original MS. signed by Mr. Williams,

is preserved at Prideaux Place, Padstow. A very minute account of it

found its way into the _Times_ of the 28th August, 1828; another was

furnished to Dr. Abercrombie derived from Mr. Williams himself, who

detailed his experiences to a medical friend of the doctor, and this

latter published this in his _Inquiries Concerning the Intellectual

Power_. This was republished by Dr. Clement Carlyon in _Early Years

and Late Reflections_, 1836-41, together with another account by Mr.

Hill, a barrister, grandson of Mr. John Williams, and which he had

taken down from his grandfather's lips. All these accounts are

practically identical. According to Dr. Abercrombie: "Mr. Williams

dreamt that he was in the lobby of the House of Commons and saw a

small man enter, dressed in a blue coat and white waistcoat.

Immediately after he saw a man dressed in a brown coat with yellow

basket buttons draw a pistol from under his coat and discharge it at

the former, who instantly fell, the blood issuing from a wound a

little below the left breast." According to Mr. Hill's account, "he

heard the report of the pistol, saw the blood fly out and stain the

waistcoat, and saw the colour of the face change." Dr. Abercrombie's

authority goes on to state: "He saw the murderer seized by some

gentlemen who were present, and observed his countenance, and in

asking who the gentleman was who had been shot, he was told it was the

Chancellor. He then awoke, and mentioned the dream to his wife, who

made light of it." This wife was Catherine, daughter of Martin Harvey,

of Killefreth, in Kenwyn, born in 1757.

We will now take the rest of the narrative from the account in the

_Times_: "Mrs. Williams very naturally told him it was only a dream, and

recommended him to be composed, and go to sleep as soon as he could. He

did so, and shortly after woke her again, and said that he had the

second time had the same dream; whereupon she observed he had been so

much agitated by his former dream that she supposed it had dwelt on his

mind, and begged him to try to compose himself and go to sleep, which he

did. A third time the vision was repeated, on which, notwithstanding her

entreaties that he would be quiet and endeavour to forget it, he arose,

it being then between one and two o'clock, and dressed himself.

"At breakfast the dreams were the sole subject of conversation, and in

the afternoon Mr. Williams went to Falmouth, where he related the

particulars of them to all of his acquaintance that he met. On the

following day, Mr. Tucker, of Trematon Castle, accompanied by his

wife, a daughter of Mr. Williams, went to Scorrier House about dusk.

"Immediately after the first salutations on their entering the

parlour, where were Mr., Mrs., and Miss Williams, Mr. Williams began

to relate to Mr. Tucker the circumstances of his dream; and Mrs.

Williams observed to her daughter, Mrs. Tucker, laughingly, that her

father could not even suffer Mr. Tucker to be seated before he told

him of his nocturnal visitation, on the statement of which he observed

that it would do very well for a dream to have the (Lord) Chancellor

in the lobby of the House of Commons, but he could not be found there

in reality, and Mr. Tucker then asked what sort of a man he appeared

to be, when Mr. Williams minutely described him, to which Mr. Tucker

replied: 'Your description is not that of the Lord Chancellor, but it

is certainly that of Mr. Perceval, the Chancellor of the Exchequer;

and although he has been to me the greatest enemy I ever met in my

life, for a supposed cause which had no foundation or truth (or words

to that effect), I should be exceedingly sorry indeed to hear of his

being assassinated, or of injury of the kind happening to him.'

"Mr. Tucker then inquired of Mr. Williams if he had ever seen Mr.

Perceval, and was told that he had never seen him, nor had ever even

written to him either on public or private business; in short, that he

never had anything to do with him, nor had he ever been in the lobby

of the House of Commons in his life.

"Whilst Mr. Williams and Mr. Tucker were still standing they heard a

horse gallop to the door of the house, and immediately after Mr.

Michael Williams, of Trevince (son of Mr. Williams, of Scorrier) entered

the room, and said that he had galloped out of Truro (from which

Scorrier is distant seven miles), having seen a gentleman there who had

come by that evening's mail from London, who said that he had been in

the lobby of the House of Commons on the evening of the 11th, when a man

called Bellingham had shot Mr. Perceval, and that, as it might occasion

some great ministerial changes, and might affect Mr. Tucker's political

friends, he had come as fast as he could to make him acquainted with it,

having heard at Truro that he had passed through that place on his way

to Scorrier. After the astonishment which this intelligence created had

a little subsided, Mr. Williams described most particularly the

appearance and dress of the man that he saw in his dream fire the

pistol, as he had before done of Mr. Perceval.

"About six weeks after, Mr. Williams, having business in town, went,

accompanied by a friend, to the House of Commons, where, as has been

already observed, he had never before been. Immediately that he came to

the steps at the entrance to the lobby, he said: 'This place is as

distinctly within my recollection in my dream as any in my house,' and

he made the same observation when he entered the lobby. He there pointed

out the exact spot where Bellingham stood when he fired, and which Mr.

Perceval had reached when he was struck by the ball, and when and how he

fell. The dress, both of Mr. Perceval and Bellingham, agreed with the

description given by Mr. Williams, even to the most minute particulars."

Such is this well-authenticated story. It is worth notice that Mr.

Williams saw the whole affair in dream thrice repeated long after the

real event had taken place, and not by any means at the moment of the

assassination. Some dreams that are well authenticated may have led to

the conviction of murderers. But this did not; it was wholly useless;

yet it is impossible to deny that it really occurred.

SIR ROBERT TRESILIAN

Sir Robert Tresilian, of Tresilian, in the parish of Newlyn, and by

virtue of marriage with the heiress of Haweis also lord of Tremoderet in

Duloe, was Lord Chief Justice of England and adviser to King Richard II;

he accordingly drew upon himself the animosity of the King's uncle,

Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester. But he had also drawn upon his

head the hatred of the commonalty by his "bloody circuit" after the

insurrection of Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, and John Ball.

When Sir Robert Knollys had brought together a large force against the

insurgents, the young King had forbidden him to slaughter them _en

masse_, as he proposed, "For," said he, "I will have their blood in

another way." And he had their blood by sending Chief Justice Tresilian

among them, and, according to Holinshed, the number of executions

amounted to 1500. At first they were beheaded; afterwards they were

hanged and left on the gibbet to excite terror; but their friends cut

down the bodies and carried them off; whereupon the King ordered that

they should be hanged in strong iron chains; and this was the first

instance of this barbarous and disgusting practice in England.

The King had promised the insurgent peasantry that serfage should be

abolished, that liberty should be accorded to all to buy and sell in

the markets, and that land should be let at fourpence an acre, that a

general amnesty should be accorded. To all these he had acceded with

charters signed and sealed; but so soon as the disturbances were over

he repudiated his undertakings, and we cannot doubt that he did so at

the advice of Tresilian, who pronounced them illegal.

Richard did, indeed, in the next Parliament, urge the abolition of

villainage, but the proposal was coldly received, not pressed, and

rejected. Moreover, on the occasion of his marriage with Anne of

Bohemia, which took place soon after, a general amnesty was proclaimed.

The people were, however, disaffected. The imposition of a poll tax

levied on rich and poor at the same sum on all over fifteen, and the

scandalous manner in which it had been collected, had given general

dissatisfaction, and it was, in fact, this which had roused Wat Tyler

to march on London to obtain redress.

The King had surrounded himself with favourites, and his uncles were

excluded from his council. The country was divided between the party

of the King and that of the Duke of Gloucester. There is not the least

reason to suppose that the latter had at heart the welfare of the

people of England, any more than had the creatures who surrounded the

King. The Duke was moved by resentment, pride, and ambition, and many

believed that he aimed at the crown.

The chief favourites of Richard were Michael de la Pole, whom he created

Earl of Suffolk, and Robert de Vere, a young and handsome man, who was

made Marquis of Dublin, receiving, at the same time, the extraordinary

grant of the whole revenue of Ireland, out of which he was to pay a

yearly rent of five thousand marks to the King. He was soon after

created Duke of Ireland. The other advisers of the King were Worth,

Archbishop of York, Sir Simon Burley, and Sir Robert Tresilian. These

certainly judged rightly when they opposed the prosecution of the war in

France, and the subvention of the claims of the Duke of Lancaster to the

Crown of Castile. The country was being drained of men and money in

these profitless wars. But the nobles, headed by Thomas of Gloucester,

opposed this policy, and naturally had the support of those who made

money out of the wars. To defeat the plans of the council, Gloucester

demanded the dismissal of Suffolk. The King petulantly answered that he

would not at his command dismiss a scullion-boy from his kitchen.

Suffolk was, however, impeached by the Commons for undue use of his

influence, and the King was obliged to submit to the fining and

imprisonment of his favourite. It was next proposed that a council

should be appointed to reform the State. At this proposition Richard

threatened to dissolve the Parliament. A member of the Commons thereupon

moved that the statute deposing Edward II should be read, and the King

was warned that death might be the penalty of a continued refusal. He

yielded. The commission was appointed, and Gloucester and his friends,

who formed the great majority, were masters of England. In yielding,

Richard limited the duration of the commission to a year. The King was

now twenty years of age, but he was reduced to as mere a cipher as when

he was a boy of eleven.

In the month of August in the following year, 1387, acting under the

advice of Tresilian, he assembled a council at Nottingham, and

submitted to some of the judges who attended it this question--Whether

the Commission of Government appointed by Parliament, and approved of

under his own seal, were legal or illegal? Tresilian led the rest of

the judges to certify that the commission was illegal, and that all

those who had introduced the measure were liable to capital

punishment; that all who supported it were by that act guilty of high

treason; in short, that both Lords and Commons were traitors.

On the 11th November following the King returned to London, when he

was alarmed by hearing that the Duke of Gloucester, the Earls of

Arundel and Nottingham, the Constable, Admiral, and Marshal of England

were approaching the capital at the head of forty thousand men. The

decision of Tresilian and the judges and of the King had, in fact,

forced them into rebellion, as it was pretty evident that Richard

aimed at taking their lives.

So soon as Richard's cousin, the Earl of Derby, heard of the approach

of Gloucester, he quitted the Court with the Earl of Warwick, went to

Waltham Cross, and there joined him. The members of the Council of

Eleven were there already. On Sunday, the 17th of November, the Duke

entered London with an irresistible force and "appealed" of treason

the Archbishop of York, De Vere, Duke of Ireland, De la Pole, Earl of

Suffolk, Sir Robert Tresilian, Chief Justice of England, and Sir

Nicolas Brember, Knight, a London grocer and Lord Mayor of London.

The favourites instantly took to flight. De la Pole, the condemned

Chancellor, succeeded in reaching France, where he died soon after; De

Vere, Duke of Ireland, got to the borders of Wales, where he raised an

army, acting in concert with the King; it was resolved he should march

to London. The Archbishop of York escaped to Flanders, where he spent

the rest of his days as a village priest.

The fate of Chief Justice Tresilian must be told in the words of Sir

John Froissart.

Richard had gone to Bristol to organize an army against the Duke of

Gloucester, and De Vere, the Duke of Ireland, was with him there.

"While the army was collecting, the King and the Duke in secret

conference, determined to send one of their confidential agents to

London, to observe what was going forward, and if the King's uncles

still remained there, to discover what they were doing. After some

consultation, they could think of no proper person to send on this

errand; when a knight who was cousin to the Duke, called Sir Robert

Tresilian, stepped forth, and said to the Duke, 'I see the difficulty

you have to find a trusty person to send to London; I, from love of

you, will risk the adventure.' The King and the Duke, well pleased

with the offer, thanked him for it. Tresilian left Bristol disguised

as a poor tradesman, mounted on a wretched hackney. He continued his

road to London, and lodged at an inn where he was unknown; for no man

could have ever imagined that one of the King's counsellors and

chamberlains would have appeared in so miserable a dress.

"When in London, he picked up all the news that was possible, for he

could do no more, respecting the King's uncles and the citizens. Having

heard that there was to be a meeting of the Dukes and their council at

Westminster, he determined to go thither to learn secretly all he could

of their proceedings. This he executed, and fixed his quarters at an

ale-house right opposite the palace gate. He chose a chamber the window

of which looked into the palace yard, where he posted himself to observe

all who should come to this Parliament. The greater part he knew, but

was not, from his disguise, known to them. He, however, remained there

at different times, so long, that a squire of the Duke of Gloucester saw

and recognized him, for he had been many times in his company. Sir

Robert also at once recollected him, and withdrew from the window; but

the squire, having his suspicions, said, 'Surely that must be

Tresilian.' To be certain on this point, he entered the ale-house, and

said to the landlady, 'Dame, tell me, on your troth, who is he that is

drinking in the room above; he is alone and not in company.' 'On my

troth, sir,' she replied, 'I cannot give you his name; but he has been

here some time.' At these words, the squire went upstairs to know the

truth, and having saluted Sir Robert, found he was right, though he

dissembled by saying, 'God preserve you, master! I hope you will not

take my coming amiss, for I thought you had been one of my farmers from

Essex, as you are so very like him.' 'By no means,' said Sir Robert; 'I

am from Kent, and hold lands of Sir John Holland, and wish to lay my

complaints before the Council against the tenants of the Archbishop of

Canterbury, who encroach much on my farm.' 'If you will come into the

hall,' said the squire, 'I will have way made for you to lay your

grievances before the lords.' 'Many thanks,' replied Sir Robert; 'not at

this moment, but I shall not renounce your assistance.' At the words the

squire ordered a quart of ale, and having paid for it, he said, 'God be

with you!' and left the ale-house.

"He lost no time in hastening to the council-chamber, and called to

the usher to open the door. The usher, knowing him, asked his

business. He said, 'he must instantly speak with the Duke of

Gloucester, on matters that mainly concerned him and the council.' The

usher, on this, bade him enter, which he did, and made up to the Duke

of Gloucester, saying, 'My lord, I will tell it aloud; for it concerns

not you only but all the lords present. I have seen Sir Robert

Tresilian, disguised as a peasant, in an ale-house close by the

palace gate.' 'Tresilian!' exclaimed the Duke. 'On my faith, my lord,

it is true; and you will have him to dine with, if you please.' 'I

should like it much,' replied the Duke; 'for he will tell us some news

of his master, the Duke of Ireland. Go, and secure him; but with power

enough not to be in danger of failing.'

"The squire on these orders, left the council-chamber, and having chosen

four bailiffs, said to them, 'Follow me at a distance; and so soon as

you shall perceive me make you a sign to arrest a man I am in search of,

lay hands on him, and take care he do not, on any account, escape.' The

squire made for the ale-house where he had left Sir Robert, and,

mounting the staircase to the room where he was, said, on entering:

'Tresilian, you are not come to this country for any good, as I imagine;

my Lord of Gloucester sends me for you, and you must come and speak with

him.' The knight turned a deaf ear, and would have been excused by

saying, 'I am not Tresilian, but a tenant of Sir John Holland.'

"'That is not true,' replied the squire; 'your body is Tresilian's,

though not your dress.' And, making a sign to the bailiffs, who were

at the door, they entered the house and arrested him, and, whether he

would or not, carried him to the palace. You may believe, there was a

great crowd to see him; for he was well known in London, and in many

parts of England.

"The Duke of Gloucester was much pleased, and would see him. When in

his presence, the Duke said: 'Tresilian, what has brought you hither?

How fares my Sovereign? Where does he now reside?' Tresilian, finding

that he was discovered, and that no excuses would avail, replied: 'On

my faith, my lord, the King has sent me hither to learn the news. He

is in Bristol, and on the banks of the Severn, where he hunts and

amuses himself.'

"'How!' said the Duke, 'You do not come dressed as an honest man, but

like a spy. If you had been desirous to learn what was passing, your

appearance should have been like that of a knight or a decent person.'

'My lord,' answered Tresilian, 'if I have done wrong, I hope you will

excuse me, for I have only done what I was bid.' 'And where is your

master, the Duke of Ireland?' 'My lord,' said Tresilian, 'he is with

the King, my lord.' The Duke then added: 'We have been informed that

he is collecting a large body of men, and that the King has issued his

summons to that effect. Whither does he mean to lead them?' 'My lord,

they are indeed for Ireland.' 'For Ireland!' said the Duke. 'Yes,

indeed, as God may help me,' answered Tresilian.

"The Duke mused awhile, and then spoke: 'Tresilian, Tresilian, your

actions are neither fair nor honest. You have committed a great piece of

folly in coming to these parts, where you are far from being loved, as

will shortly be shown to you. Yes, and others of your faction have done

what has greatly displeased my brother and myself, and have ill-advised

the King, whom you have stirred up to quarrel with his chief nobility.

In addition, you have excited the principal towns against us. The day of

retribution is therefore come, when you shall receive payment; for

whoever acts unjustly receives his reward. Look to your affairs, for I

will neither eat nor drink till you be no more.'

"This speech greatly terrified Sir Robert (for no one likes to hear of

his end) by the manner in which it was uttered. He was desirous to

obtain pardon, by various excuses, and the most abject humiliation,

but in vain. The Duke had received information of what was going on

at Bristol, and his excuses were frivolous. Why should I make a long

story? Sir Robert was delivered to the hangman, who led him out to the

place of execution, where he was beheaded, and then hung by the arms

to a gibbet. Thus ended Sir Robert Tresilian."

PIRATE TRELAWNY

Edward John Trelawny, a younger son of Charles Brereton Trelawny, came

into this world on the 2nd or 3rd of November, but in what year is not

certain. It is said that he was born in 1792, but either this is a

wrong date, or else Colonel Vivian, in his _Visitations of Cornwall_,

errs, for he gives that year as the one in which Harry Brereton

Trelawny, the eldest son, was born. Charles Brereton Trelawny was the

son of Harry Trelawny, a lieutenant-general in the army and Governor

of Landguard Fort.

Of his father, Edward John entertained no favourable opinion. "My

father, notwithstanding his increased fortune, did not increase his

expenditure; nay, he established, if possible, a stricter system of

economy. The only symptom he ever showed of imagination was

castle-building; but his fabrications were founded on a more solid

basis than is usually to be met with among the visions of

day-dreamers. No unreal mockery of fairy scenes of bliss found a

resting-place in his bosom. Ingots, money, lands, houses, and

tenements constituted his dreams. He became a mighty arithmetician by

the aid of a ready reckoner, his pocket companion; he set down to a

fraction the sterling value of all his and his wife's relations, the

heirs at law, their nearest of kin, their ages, and the state of their

constitutions. The insurance table was examined to calculate the value

of their lives; to this he added the probable chances arising from

diseases, hereditary and acquired, always forgetting his own gout. He

then determined to regulate his conduct accordingly; to maintain the

most friendly intercourse with his wealthy connexions, and to keep

aloof from the poor ones. Having no occasion to borrow, his aversion

to lending amounted to antipathy. The distrust and horror he expressed

at the slightest allusion to loans, unbacked by security and interest,

had the effect of making the most imprudent and adventurous desist

from essaying him, and continue in their necessities, or beg, or rob,

or starve, in preference to urging their wants to him.

"It was his custom to appropriate a room in the house to the

conservation of those things he loved--choice wines, foreign

preserves, cordials. This sanctum was a room on the ground floor,

under a skylight. Our next-door neighbours' pastime happened to be a

game of balls, when one of them lodged on the leaded roof of this

consecrated room. Two of my sisters, of the ages of fourteen and

sixteen, ran from the drawing-room back window to seek for the ball,

and slipping on the leads, the younger fell through the skylight on to

the bottles and jars upon the table below. She was dreadfully bruised,

and her hands, legs and face were cut, so much so, that she still

retains the scars. Her sister gave the alarm. My mother was called;

she went to the door of the store-room; her child screamed out, for

God's sake to open the door; she was bleeding to death. My mother

dared not break the lock, as my father had prohibited any one from

entering this, his blue chamber; and what was worse, he had the key.

Other keys were tried, but none could open the door. Had I been there,

my foot should have picked the lock. Will it be believed that, in that

state, my sister was compelled to await my father's return from the

House of Commons, of which he was a member? At last, when he

returned, my mother informed him of the accident, and tried to allay

the wrath which she saw gathering on his brow. He took no notice of

her, but paced forward to the closet, when the delinquent, awed by his

dreadful voice, hushed her sobs. He opened the door and found her

there, scarcely able to stand, trembling and weeping. Without speaking

a word, he kicked and cuffed her out of the room, and then gloomily

decanted what wine remained in the broken bottles."

[Illustration: EDWARD JOHN TRELAWNY

_From a drawing by D. Lucas_]

The mother of Edward John was Maria, sister of Sir Christopher

Hawkins, of Trewithen.

That a high-spirited, self-willed, passionate boy like Edward John

should get on with such a father was antecedently improbable; and he

was sent to sea at the age of twelve in the _Superb_, and had the ill

fortune to miss the battle of Trafalgar, through Admiral Duckworth

delaying three days at Plymouth to victual his ships with mutton and

potatoes.

"Young as I was, I shall never forget our falling in with the _Pickle_

schooner off Trafalgar, carrying the first despatches of the battle

and death of its hero. Her commander, burning with impatience to be

the first to convey the news to England, was compelled to heave to and

come on board us. Captain Keates received him on deck, and when he

heard the news I was by his side. Silence reigned throughout the ship;

some great event was anticipated. The officers stood in groups,

watching with intense anxiety the two commanders, who walked apart.

'Battle,' 'Nelson,' 'ships,' were the only audible words which could

be gathered from their conversation. I saw the blood rush into

Keates's face; he stamped the deck, walked hurriedly, and spoke with

passion. I marvelled, for I had never before seen him much moved; he

had appeared cool, firm, and collected on all occasions, and it struck

me that some awful event had taken place, or was at hand. The Admiral

was still in his cabin, eager for news from the Nelson fleet. He was

an irritable and violent man, and after a few minutes, swelling with

wrath, he sent an order to Keates, who possibly heard it not, but

staggered along the deck, struck to the heart by the news, and, for

the first time in his life, forgot his respect to his superior in

rank; muttering, as it seemed, curses on his fate that, by the

Admiral's delay, he had not participated in the most glorious battle

in naval history. Another messenger enforced him to descend in haste

to the Admiral, who was high in rage and impatience.

"Keates, for I followed him, on entering the Admiral's cabin said in a

subdued voice, as if he were choking, 'A great battle has been fought,

two days ago, off Trafalgar. The combined fleets of France and Spain

are annihilated, and Nelson is no more!' He then murmured, 'Had we not

been detained we should have been there.'

"Duckworth answered not, conscience-struck, but stalked the deck. He

seemed ever to avoid the look of his captain, and turned to converse

with the commander of the schooner, who replied in sulky brevity,

'Yes' or 'No.' Then, dismissing him, he ordered all sail to be set,

and walked the quarter-deck alone. A death-like stillness pervaded the

ship, broken at intervals by the low murmurs of the crew and officers,

when 'battle' and 'Nelson' could alone be distinguished. Sorrow and

discontent were painted on every face.

"On the following morning we fell in with a portion of the victorious

fleet. It was blowing a gale, and they lay wrecks on the sea. Our

Admiral communicated with them, and then, joining Collingwood, had six

sail of the line put under his command, with orders to pursue that

part of the enemy's fleet which had escaped; and I joined the ship to

which I was appointed. It is unnecessary to dwell on the miseries of a

cockpit life: I found it more tolerable than my school, and little

worse than my home."

When paid off he was sent under a Scotch captain, who treated him

badly, and then he was in another vessel and resolved to desert the

service. This he did at Bombay. So far we can trust what Trelawny has

given us in that remarkable book _Adventures of a Younger Son_; but

from this point on he romances, but romances with an air of reality.

It is not possible to discriminate fact from fiction in what follows.

Undoubtedly Pirate Trelawny started on his memoirs with the intent of

writing his autobiography, but he was inordinately vain, and delighted

in posturing as a hero and in describing marvellous adventures through

which he passed, heightening them sensationally with wonderful skill.

What seems probable is that, after deserting from the navy, he was for

a while in the merchant service, and then joined a privateer cruising

in the India seas. As Mr. E. Garnett well says, "the Younger Son is an

excellent stage hero by the finish; he meets and overcomes all odds;

it is truly a glorious Trelawny--the Trelawny of his own imagination."

He states that he was married when he was twenty-one, and that the

marriage took place in England, so that he must have returned home

somewhere about 1813. But we really know nothing authentic of his

movements till 1822, when he was in England, and thence went to Italy,

where he made acquaintance with Lord Byron and with Shelley. After

the lamentable death of the latter poet he attended at the cremation

of the body. Thence he went with Byron to Greece in the _Hercules_, to

aid the Greeks against the Turks. They arrived at Cephalonia, off the

west coast, in the beginning of August, 1823, and there Lord Byron

resolved on staying till he could ascertain how things were

progressing in Greece and decide on his future course of action. This

delay did not at all suit the impetuosity of the character of

Trelawny, who called it dawdling, and set forward for the mainland in

company with Hamilton Browne, making his way to the seat of the Greek

Government. He also sent emissaries to England to endeavour to raise a

loan, and then proceeded to Athens. Here the insurgent leader Odysseus

was in command, and to his fortunes Trelawny at once attached himself,

and married the sister of the Greek chieftain.

Major Temple, resident at Santa Maura, during his mission to the Morea

in June, 1824, met Odysseus, and described him as "a perfect Albanian

chieftain--savage in manners and appearance, of great muscular

strength, and about six feet high."

He had his head-quarters in a huge cavern in the face of the limestone

precipices of Mount Parnassus, which he had strongly fortified, and in

this he kept his treasure that he had accumulated and lodged his family.

In the meantime dissension had broken out among the Greeks, between the

leaders of the bands that did all the fighting, under Kolokotroni, and

the Executive Government that had been elected by the primates, at the

head of which stood Mavrocordato. A complete rupture had ensued at the

end of 1823 between the parties, and the guerilla chieftains absolutely

refused obedience to the Provisional Government.

In the same winter of 1823-4 Trelawny accompanied Odysseus as

_aide-de-camp_ upon an expedition into Negropont, and on their return

to Athens, where Colonel Stanhope then was, Trelawny sent a letter to

his mother, of which the following is an extract:--

"ATHENS, _18th February, 1824._

"DEAR MOTHER,--I am enabled to keep twenty-five followers,

Albanian soldiers, with whom I have joined the most enterprising

of the Greek captains and most powerful--Ulysses. I am much with

him, and have done my best during the winter campaign, in which we

have besieged Negropont, to make up for the many years of idleness

I have led. I am now in my element, and the energy of my youth is

reawakened. I have clothed myself in the Albanian costume and

sworn to uphold the cause.

"Everything here is going on as well as heart can wish. Great part

of Greece is already emancipated. The Morea is free, and we are

making rapid progress to the westward. Lord Byron spends £5000 a

year in the cause and maintains five hundred soldiers. This will

in the eyes of the world redeem the follies of youth.

"Your affectionate son,

"EDWARD TRELAWNY."

Trelawny and Odysseus desired to get Lord Byron to be with them, but

this plan was frustrated by the death of the poet on April 19th, 1824.

Colonel Stanhope proposed a congress of the civil and military leaders,

so as to effect a reconciliation between the two embittered elements

that were weakening the resistance against the common enemy, the Turk.

Odysseus consented to attend this meeting at Salona, and Trelawny also

agreed to be present. Mavrocordato looked on Trelawny with suspicion as

intimate with Odysseus and as his brother-in-law, and he foisted upon

him an English spy named Fenton, and an accomplice of the name of

Whitcombe, with secret instructions to make away with him.

After returning from Salona, Trelawny was with Odysseus in Eastern

Greece, carrying on the war in guerilla fashion without any great

results.

In the autumn he was at Argos, whence a letter (certainly his, though

unsigned) was sent to his brother Lieutenant Harry Trelawny, R.N.

"... To give you an idea of the misery existing here is beyond all

expression. The town is nothing more or less than a chaos of ruins;

not a house inhabitable. The fever making great havoc, people actually

falling down in the streets. The stench of the place is so great I am

obliged to remove my quarters to the once famous Argos, not more than

an hour's walk from Agamemnon's tomb, which I have not yet seen. The

scenery is beautiful; perfectly romantic. I am now living in a house

without doors or windows, every man armed.

"The Commissioners are both sick. Mr. Bulwer has proposed to raise a

body of fifty men, but I am afraid it will all evaporate in smoke,

like all his undertakings here. I am much afraid nothing is to be

done: they look on all foreigners as intruders. Many of the French

have behaved most shamefully, but, as I told you before, I will exert

every effort. All my hopes are placed in Colonel Gordon's arrival.

"YOUR BROTHER."

* * * * *

The Commissioners referred to were Henry Lytton Bulwer (Lord Dalling)

and J. H. Browne, sent out by the Greek Committee in London, when it

was too late, to ascertain whether the Greek Provisional Government

was sufficiently firmly established, and sufficiently trustworthy, to

warrant the paying over to it of that part of the loan raised in

England on their behalf not already advanced. The loan was of

£800,000, but from this 56.4 per cent was deducted, so that the whole

amount to be forwarded to the Greek Government would be only £348,000.

Odysseus was beset with difficulties, as the Provisional Government

refused to furnish him with men or money. Trelawny made vain attempts

to raise funds.

Ultimately Odysseus made a truce for three months with Omer Pasha, of

Negropont, but being regarded with suspicion on both sides, he

endeavoured to make his escape, and left Trelawny in charge of the

cave and its contents. It was at this time that Fenton, the hired spy,

in May, 1825, made the attempt to assassinate Trelawny. He took the

opportunity when Trelawny's back was towards him to shoot him.

Odysseus was compelled to surrender to the Government, was carried off

to Athens, where he was strangled by order of Mavrocordato.

Trelawny's wounds were so dangerous that he suffered for three months

before he could be said to have recovered, and he then escaped from

the cavern and landed in Cephalonia in September, 1825, bringing his

Albanian wife with him. During the next two years he was engaged in a

lawsuit about his wife, whom he treated with brutality, so that she

left him and retired to a convent, with purpose ultimately to proceed

to Paxo, where lived her sister. Whilst in the convent she was

delivered of a child which she sent to Trelawny to be put out to

nurse, as they objected in the convent to have the infant there.

Trelawny sent it to a woman who undertook to rear it, but it died,

whereupon, as Mr. H. Robinson of Zante wrote to Toole on 22nd

November, 1827, "he sent the dead body to the Castle Monastery, where

she (his wife) was, in a box with her things and a message from him.

The wife knew not what was in the box and refused to open it, and

there it lay until putrid.

"An examination took place with all the fuss which the courts make

about _suspicione d'infanticido_, and ended by T. being fined two

dollars for improperly removing a dead body."

In or about the month of July, 1829, Signora Trelawny made petition to

the Lord High Commissioner to the following effect:--

"It is perhaps known to Your Excellency that at about the age of

thirteen I was given in marriage to Signor Trelawny, my family urging

that I should live happily with one brought up in the courtesy and

good-breeding of his country; but, as my experience proved, he failed

to treat me with that consideration and nobility of character which

distinguish the men of his nation. The nature of the long-continued

treatment which I have had to endure at the hands of the said Signor

Trelawny is not unknown, and at the last, it is perhaps within Your

Excellency's recollection that he brought grief to my very eyes by

sending me while in the convent, with cunning and brutality, the dead

body of my daughter and his."

She then stated that Zante had become lonely for her, as her brothers

and mother had gone to Greece. She wanted to go to Paxo to her sister,

but the custom of Zante obliged a wife separated from her husband to

live in a convent.

She continued: "I venture humbly to ask Your Excellency if, being the

wife of an Englishman, I ought to be subject to the custom of the island

in which I chance to find myself a resident. Should an Englishwoman be

subjected to such treatment as I am?... I promise Your Excellency that,

in whatever place or situation I find myself, I will conduct myself

always as is proper for the wife of an English gentleman; and though he

himself may be wanting in dignity of behaviour, I will do neither him

nor myself the dishonour of imitating him.

"TERSITZA PHILIPPA TRELAWNY."

* * * * *

This petition and the letter of Mr. Robinson suffice to show that the

story of Trelawny sending his dead child in a box to its mother is not

to be rejected as a fable, as it has been by the author of the notice

on Edward John Trelawny in the _Dictionary of National Biography_.[27]

The poor unfortunate girl, then aged seventeen, obtained a separation

from her husband _a mensa et thoro_, by a sentence of the

Ecclesiastical Court, and by definitive sentences of the courts of law

in Zante and Corfu she was entitled to an aliment from her husband of

twenty-five dollars a month, for the payment of which Mr. Barff, the

banker of Zante, and Mr. Stevens, of Corfu, were securities. But this

was the result of much litigation, causing Trelawny annoyance and

angering him to the last degree.

In the autumn of 1828 he visited England, but returned to the Continent

in the spring of the following year, feeling out of his element at home.

"To whom am I a neighbour?" he wrote, "and near whom? I dwell amongst

tame and civilized human beings with somewhat the same feelings as we

may guess the lion feels when, torn from his native wildness, he is

tortured into domestic intercourse with what Shakespeare calls 'forked

animals,' the most abhorrent to his nature." He rambled about; set up a

harem in Athens, bought a Moorish girl to be his concubine, wrote his

_Adventures of a Younger Son_, and sent the MS. in 1830 to Mrs. Shelley,

and it was published in three volumes in 1831, with some excisions of

grossness and licentiousness, which the publisher insisted on having

removed. As already said, no reliance can be placed on this

autobiography as a narrative of the facts of his life, except only of

his boyhood, for, as Lord Byron said of Trelawny, "he could not speak

the truth even if he wished to do so."

When the book appeared, the _Athenæum_ considered the hero--Trelawny

himself--"a kind of ruffian from his birth," as he had painted himself,

leaving out the villainies and brutalities of which he had been guilty.

He was thrice married, and behaved badly to all three wives. He could

not be faithful and generous even to his friends. With Byron he had

been most intimate, yet when Byron died he wrote to Mary Shelley: "It

is well for his name, and better for Greece, that Byron is dead.... I

now feel my face burn with shame that so weak and ignoble a soul could

so long have influenced me. It is a degrading reflection, and ever

will be. I wish he had lived a little longer, that he might have

witnessed how I would have soared above him here, how I would have

triumphed over his mean spirit." Trelawny soaring!--as a vulture only

in quest of carrion.

And when, in 1858, he published his _Recollections of Shelley and

Byron_, thirty-four years after the death of the latter, he painted

Byron in the harshest colours; and one can hardly escape feeling that

this was prompted by jealousy of the esteem in which the world held

Byron for his genius. He himself possessed all the bad qualities that

he despised in Byron, but did not recognize in himself the superadded

brutality which Byron was too much a gentleman to show.

Even Mrs. Shelley, a lifelong friend and correspondent, to whom he had

often poured out his heart, and whom he had contemplated at one time

marrying, could not be spoken of by him after her death but in

disparagement and with a revelation to the world of her little

weaknesses.

He was in England again in 1835, went into society, and married for

the third time, to make another woman miserable. For a number of years

he lived at Putney Hill, and then took a farm at Usk, in

Monmouthshire, and amused himself with farming.

In or about 1870, Trelawny, then seventy-eight years old, bought a

house and a small plot of land at Sompting, near Wortham, and occupied

himself with gardening. One day two men with guns in their hands

requested permission to enter his grounds after a bird that had taken

refuge there. He answered fiercely, "All the leave I will accord you

is to shoot one another."

At Sompting, Trelawny died on August 13th, 1881, at the age of

eighty-six. In accordance with his wish to be laid beside Shelley, his

body was embalmed in England, cremated at Gotha, and the ashes taken

to the Protestant burial-ground in Rome, and laid in the tomb he had

bought fifty-eight years before, next to those of his friend.

Trelawny was a very handsome man, tall and well built; he had flashing

dark eyes under beetling brows, and an aquiline nose, raven-black

hair, and a dusky, Spanish complexion. He spoke very loud. He retained

his good looks to the end of his days.

Shelley described him in _Fragments of an Unfinished Drama_:--

He was as is the sun in his fierce youth,

As terrible and lovely as a tempest.

In Millais' painting of "The North-West Passage," exhibited in the

Royal Academy in 1874, the old sailor is a portrait of Captain

Trelawny; and it has been conjectured that Thackeray delineated him as

Captain Sumph in _Pendennis_, I, cap. 35.

The authorities for Trelawny's life are, beside the first part of his

_Adventures of a Younger Son_, his _Recollections of Shelley and

Byron_, 1858; the new edition of the work, published in 1878, was

called _Records of Shelley, Byron, and the Author_.

Mr. R. Garnett has a notice of the life of Trelawny prefixed to the

edition of the _Adventures of a Younger Son_ of 1890. A lengthy life

of Trelawny is in the _Dictionary of National Biography_. An error in

this is pointed out by Mr. T. C. Down in the article on "Pirate

Trelawny" already referred to and quoted from.

A pleasant account of "Mr. Trelawny and his Friends" appeared in the

_Contemporary Review_ for 1878.

Something further about him may be gleaned from Frances A. Kemble's

_Records of a Girlhood_, 1878, III, 75, 308-12. There are corrections

of some of Trelawny's inaccuracies in D. Guido Biagi's _The Last Days

of Percy Bysshe Shelley_, 1898.

FOOTNOTE:

[27] See for the above and more on the subject of "Pirate Trelawny" an

article by T. C. Down in the _Nineteenth Century_, May, 1907.

JAMES SILK BUCKINGHAM

Mr. S. C. Hall, writing after the death of J. S. Buckingham, thus

expressed his opinion of this truly remarkable man: "Whatever, during

his life, envy, jealousy, monopolous interest or satirical hostility may

have said to the contrary, there can be little doubt, now he is gone,

that the late Mr. James Silk Buckingham was amongst the most useful as

well as the most hopeful and industrious men of his time. His career was

one remarkable illustration of the well-known line of the old song,

'It's wonderful what we can do if we try'; for at almost every step he

took he was met by some disaster or annoyance, yet kept pressing on with

the most dauntless persistence, making the best of the worst

circumstances, and even when failing in his own personal endeavours,

giving such an impulse to the powers of others in whatever cause or

course he had engaged, that the end in view was generally attained, and

in several notable instances within the period of his own life."

The Buckinghams were a North Devon family, and the grandfather of the

subject of this notice had lived in Barnstaple. For several

generations they had been connected with the sea. Christopher

Buckingham settled at Flushing on a small farm, along with his wife

Thomazine, daughter of a Hambley of Bodmin.

James Silk describes his father as wearing a cocked hat, long,

square-tailed coat with large pockets and sleeves, square-toed shoes

with silver buckles, and as walking abroad carrying a tall,

gold-headed cane.

James Silk was born at Flushing on the 25th August, 1786. He had two

brothers and a sister. His father died in 1794.

"The port of Falmouth," wrote he in his unfinished memoirs, "being

nearest to the entrance of the Channel, there were permanently

stationed here two squadrons of frigates, one under the command of Sir

Edward Pellew (afterwards Lord Exmouth), the other under the command

of Sir John Borlase Warren. The former, as commodore, hoisted his

pennant on the _Indefatigable_, the latter on the _Révolutionaire_.

Each squadron consisted of five frigates of thirty-two and forty-four

guns each; and, in addition to these, there were continually arriving

and departing from Carrick Roads, the outer anchorage of Falmouth,

line-of-battle ships and smaller vessels of war; while the prizes

taken from the French were constantly brought into the port for

adjudication and sale. There were two large prisons, with open courts,

for the reception of the French prisoners thus taken, and every month

added many to their inmates.

"Both the naval commodores, as well as such captains of the frigates

belonging to the squadrons as were married, had their families residing

at Flushing, and the numerous officers of different grades, from the

youngest midshipman to the first lieutenant, were continually coming and

going to and fro ... so that the little village literally sparkled with

gold epaulets and gold-laced hats and brilliant uniforms."

He tells a curious story of his childhood. Corn, owing to the war, had

mounted to famine price, and the miners of Cornwall went about in

gangs waging war against all forestallers, regraters, and hoarders

of grain, and demolishing bakers' shops, mills, and grain stores.

[Illustration: JAMES SILK BUCKINGHAM]

"A body of some three or four hundred of these men entered Flushing,

and as they were all dressed in the mud-stained smock frocks and

trousers in which they worked underground, all armed with large clubs

and sticks of various kinds, and speaking an uncouth jargon, which

none but themselves could understand, they struck terror wherever they

went. Their numbers were quite equal to the whole adult male

population of the little village, so that the men stood aghast, the

women retired into their houses, and closed their doors, and the

children seemed struck dumb with affright. The moment of their visit,

too, was most inopportune, for on that very day a large party of the

captains and officers of the packets residing at Flushing were

occupied in storing a cargo of grain that had just been discharged

from a coasting vessel at the quay, and locking it up in warehouses to

secure it from plunder."

At this time it happened that all the ships of war were absent on

their cruising grounds. The situation was dangerous, and the men

threatened an attack on the warehouses, and were muttering and

brandishing their clubs, and falling into ranks, when Captain

Kempthorne snatched up little James Silk, then an urchin of six or

seven, seated him on a sack of corn, and bade him strike up a hymn.

With his shrill little pipe, he started--

Salvation, O! the joyful sound,

'Tis music to our ears.

Whereupon at once the mob took up the chant, sang the hymn, with their

strong masculine lungs; the clubs were let fall, and, the hymn ended,

they dispersed harmlessly.

James Silk went to sea in the _Lady Harriet_, a Government packet. On

his third voyage to Lisbon he was captured by a French corvette and

assigned to prison at Corunna; he was then about ten years old, and

the gaoler's daughter of the same age fell in love with him, and

softened the rigour of his captivity by bringing him dainties from her

father's table. She tried to induce the boy to elope with her, but

James had sufficient English common sense not to accept the offer, and

finally he was sent to Lisbon, obliged to tramp the whole way, several

hundred miles, barefooted, and begging food and a lodging on his way.

At Lisbon he was taken on board the _Prince of Wales_, and returned to

England, where his mother induced him to leave the sea, and provided

him with a small stationer's and bookseller's shop on the Fish Strand,

Falmouth. His mother died in 1804, and when James Silk was aged only

nineteen he married Elizabeth Jennings, a farmer's daughter. He got

tired of being a shopkeeper and volunteered on board a man-of-war; but

on seeing a seaman flogged round the fleet for mutiny, was so

disgusted with the sight that he deserted, and started a bookshop at

Plymouth Dock. However one of the trustees of his wife's inheritance

had speculated with the money in smuggling ventures and lost all, so

that J. S. Buckingham became bankrupt. He went to sea again, and was

appointed chief officer on board the _Titus_, bound for Trinidad,

Captain Jennings, perhaps a kinsman of his wife.

At the age of twenty-two he became commander of a vessel, and made

several voyages to the West Indies and in the Mediterranean. In these

latter he rapidly acquired a knowledge of and even fluency in speech

in French, Italian, Greek, and Arabic, and this determined him to

undertake mercantile life at Malta; but the plague having broken out

there in 1818, he was prevented from landing, and resolved to try his

fortune at Smyrna, but was unsuccessful. He then went to Alexandria,

and thence to Cairo, where he made the acquaintance and gained the

esteem of Mahomet Ali, then Pasha of Egypt.

He now formed the scheme of connecting the Red Sea with the

Mediterranean by a canal, and for this purpose surveyed the Isthmus of

Suez and convinced himself that the cutting of such a waterway was

quite feasible, and that such a connection would be of enormous

advantage to English trade with India. He laid his plans before

Mahomet Ali. "No sooner had the idea of renewing the ancient commerce

between India and the Mediterranean by way of the Red Sea taken

possession of my mind," wrote Buckingham, "than I began to think how

much this would be facilitated by the juncture of the two seas by a

navigable canal; and I bent all my thoughts to the object." But

Mahomet Ali would not hear of the project. He shrewdly asked, "Whose

ships would mostly use the canal?"

"The English vessels assuredly."

"Ah! and then the English would begin to think how nice it would be to

have Egypt so as to secure the passage. I am not going to sharpen the

knife that would cut my own throat."

The Pasha had a plan of his own; he had purchased two beautiful

American brigs then in the harbour of Alexandria, and he proposed

arming them and sending them round the Cape of Good Hope into the Red

Sea, for he desired to open up a trade with Egypt from India. But

Buckingham pointed out to him that he could not do this without great

risk of losing them, as the East India Company had supreme command of

all the Indian Ocean eastward of the Cape, and would seize and

confiscate all vessels found in those seas without their licence,

French and Portuguese vessels alone excepted.

James S. Buckingham now ascended the Nile beyond the cataracts to

Nubia, but was there seized with ophthalmic blindness. To add to his

distress, on his way to Kosseir he was attacked in the desert by a

band of mutineers of the army of the Pasha, who plundered and left him

entirely naked on the barren waste, many miles from any village, food,

or water; and even when he reached Kosseir, he was obliged to retrace

his steps, as the vessel which should have conveyed him forward had

been seized by the mutineers.

Buckingham next occupied himself with an endeavour to master the

hydrography of the Red Sea, visiting every part in the costume of a

Bedouin Arab.

The Pasha now proposed to him that he should go to India and sound the

merchants there as to establishing a through trade to Europe by the

Red Sea, and a Company of Anglo-Egyptian merchants took the matter up

with zest. But on his proceeding to Bombay he found that the

proposition was coldly received.

Whilst there, in May, 1815, Buckingham had the offer of the command of

the _Humayoon Shah_, a vessel built at the Portuguese port of Damann,

north of Bombay, by the Imaum of Muscat, for trade with China. The

retiring captain, named Richardson, in three successive voyages had

cleared £30,000, and the situation had been sought by several of the

marine officers of the East India Company. When these disappointed men

heard that Buckingham had secured the appointment, they were angry,

and applied to the Company to eject him from India and close every

port there in their power against him. This they did by refusing him a

licence to remain in India.

The British Government, in granting a charter of exclusive trade to

India and China to the East India Company, gave that Company thereby a

right to expel from their dominions all British-born subjects who had

not their licence to reside there, this being deemed necessary to

protect them from the competition of "interlopers" as they were

called, who might undersell them in their own markets. But though the

British Government might thus condemn all the twenty million of its

own native-born subjects to this state of ignominious dependence on

the will or caprice of a handful of monopolists, a body of some

twenty-four directors only--in whose hands lay the power of granting

licences or banishing those who did not possess them--it could not

authorize the exercise of such powers against the natives of any

foreign state; consequently James Silk Buckingham was advised to

become nationalized as an American citizen, in which case the East

India Company would be powerless to expel him.

In point of fact, the case stood thus: all foreigners who had no natural

claim on India as a part of their dominions might visit it freely and

reside and trade in it as long as they pleased, without licence from its

rulers; whereas British-born subjects, who had contributed by their

payment of taxes to support the very Government that made the charter,

were unjustly excluded, although the conquest of India had been made by

British blood and British treasure, and the country was still held under

the British flag. In short, all foreigners were free men there, and the

freeborn Englishman alone was a slave.

Buckingham so felt the iniquity of this system that later, when he

came to England, he agitated and wrote against the continuance of the

charter.

Buckingham returned to Egypt and occupied himself with making a chart

of the Red Sea. But the Anglo-Egyptian merchants, not relishing their

defeat by the East India Company, entered into a compact with Mahomet

Ali to send Buckingham to India as his envoy and representative; and

as such the Company could not refuse to allow him to reside there.

Accordingly, habited as a Mussulman, turbaned and long-robed, with his

speaking eye, jovial face, and dark, flowing beard, he looked every

inch of him a true-born Oriental, and his extraordinary knowledge of

various languages stood him in good stead as he made his way overland

to India, by Palestine and Bagdad. Proceeding still on his course, he

entered Persia, crossed the chain of the Zagros, and embarked at

Bushir in a man-of-war of the East India Company that was bound on an

expedition against some Wahabee pirates in the Persian Gulf, and going

ashore at Ras el Khyma, acted as interpreter to Captain Brydges,

Commander of the Squadron, assisted in bombarding the town, and then

proceeded to Bombay, which he reached after a journey of twelve

months. But his mission was again unsuccessful; either the Bombay

merchants had no confidence in the Egyptian Government, or they were

jealous of any interference with their own line of trade.

Now, however, the Company's licence reached him, authorizing him to

remain in their territories, and he regained the appointment to the

vessel _Humayoon Shah_, in the service of the Imaum of Muscat, and he

remained navigating the Eastern waters till Midsummer, 1818, when,

having received commands from the Imaum to proceed to the coast of

Zanzibar, on a slaving expedition, he threw up his engagement, worth

£4000 per annum, rather than be implicated in such a nefarious trade.

Buckingham next became proprietor and editor of the _Calcutta Mirror_, a

Liberal paper, that instantly obtained an extensive sale, and brought in

to its founder a net profit of £8000 a year. But his resolute advocacy

of Free Trade, free settlement, and free Press, and an exposure of the

misdoings of the East India Company, brought down on him the heavy hand

of Mr. John Adams, the temporary Governor-General. His paper was

suppressed, and he was ordered to quit Calcutta. His little fortune was

sacrificed in a vain attempt to fight the Governor and the Company, and

he was thrown back on the world, almost as poor, save in experience, as

when a youth he trudged from Corunna to Lisbon. He left his magnificent

library at Calcutta, in the hopes of being able to return, after having

obtained redress at home. But the redress he hoped for never came. Too

many interests were involved to accord it to him, and his library, like

his fortune and his hopes, was wrecked.

It was not till after many dreary years, that the East India Company,

under pressure from the Government, could be induced, as an indemnity

for the wrongs done him, to accord him an annuity of £200, in addition

to one of the like amount awarded him by the British Government, "in

consideration of his literary works, and useful travels in various

countries," September 1st, 1851. "Pompey and Cæsar berry much alike."

"The blow to him at Calcutta was altogether a very savage one," says Mr.

S. C. Hall, "but, like all injustice, it recoiled at length on those who

gave it. From the hour that Buckingham was driven from that city

(Calcutta), the power of the great Indian monopoly, both commercial and

governmental, was doomed. It was by no means his case alone which

accomplished that doom. But oppression and vindictiveness, by driving

him home, made him for a time the representative there of voices that

never entirely slept; whilst the impolicy that had aroused them was

persevered in to the last--not ceasing, even after the trade was thrown

open, but at length provoking that rebellion which was followed by John

Company finally having to make an assignment of his whole estate and

effects to John Bull." In England Buckingham started the _Athenæum_, a

literary weekly, but did not long retain it in his hand; he was not, in

fact, qualified for its editorship. He was a Liberal politician _avant

tout_, and a _littérateur_ only in a second or third place.

In 1832, the Reform Bill was passed, and the same general election

that sent Wm. Cobbett to the House of Commons for Oldham, sent James

S. Buckingham from Sheffield, for the avowed purpose of giving him the

best standpoint possible from which to assail the East Indian

monopoly. That Company had never made a more fatal mistake than when

it persecuted and drove him from India. Buckingham was a theme for

caricature in _Punch_ from 1845-1848.

It is open to question whether the East India Company could have

engaged J. S. Buckingham's services if, instead of hounding him out of

India, they had endeavoured to secure a man of such exceptional

ability and intense resolution of purpose in its service. In heart and

soul he was opposed to a monopoly, and if he had been engaged, he

would have accepted an engagement only for the purpose of remedying

some of the abuses of their government, and rectifying some of the

injustices done. But he was so utterly and conscientiously opposed to

the whole system, that it is more than doubtful whether he would have

met favourably any overtures made to him.

In England an excellent conception of his, which he was able to

realize, was the foundation of the "British and Foreign Institute." To

this he was moved by seeing so many Orientals and others adrift in

London, without any centre where they could meet and communicate their

ideas with statesmen and politicians of Great Britain, and where they

might gather for refreshment of mind and body alike. The Duke of

Cambridge became President, and the Society attracted to its soirées

the literary and intellectual of all lands.

His pen and his voice were employed for some years in advocating

reforms.

He died on June 20th, 1855, in his seventieth year, and his wife died

in the house of her son-in-law, Henry R. Dewey, 22nd January, 1865, at

the age of eighty.

It is greatly to be regretted that he did not live to complete his

Memoirs. He had two sons--James, who died in Jamaica, 1867, and

Leicester Forbes Young Buckingham, who ran away with an actress,

Caroline Connor, and married her at Gretna Green, 5th April, 1844. She

had made her first appearance on the London stage at the Haymarket

Theatre in 1842. The marriage was not happy and they separated, she to

return to the stage, where she acted under the name of Mrs. Buckingham

White. He died at Margate 17th July, 1867.

MARY ANN DAVENPORT, ACTRESS

Mary Ann Harvey was born in Launceston in 1759, and was educated at

Bath, where she was seized with a passion for the stage, and made her

first appearance on the boards at Bath as Lappet in _The Miser_ in 1779.

She remained at Bath two years, and during her residence there is thus

described by an eye-witness of her performances: "Miss Harvey, about

the years 1785 and 1786, was a lively, animated, bustling actress;

arch, and of exuberant spirits. Her style was pointed and energetic;

perhaps, indeed, she had less ease than was altogether the thing; but

when she had to speak satirically or in irony--when, in fact, she had

to convey one idea to the person on the stage with her and another to

the audience, she was alone and inimitable; she did not carry you away

with her so much as many young actresses that I have seen, but she

always satisfied you more amply. Then her voice--what a voice hers

was! Nay, what a voice she has still, though it has had a pretty fair

exercise for the last half century and upwards. Then it had all the

clearness for which it is even now distinguishable; and it had,

besides, a witching softness of tone that knew no equal then, and that

I have never heard exceeded since."

There was an _espiègle_ charm about her; she was not exactly

beautiful, but had a witchery of face and of manner that was

unsurpassed by any of her fellow-actresses, who may have possessed

more regularity of feature.

[Illustration: _M^{rs}. Davenport_,

in the Character of M^{rs}. Grundy]

She was not baptized at Launceston, S. Mary Magdalen. Harvey was a

common name at the time in the place; a Harvey was a builder, another a

hatmaker, another a carrier. There were a Joseph Harvey and Catherine

Penwarden married 27th January, 1756. These may have been her parents.

After leaving Bath, Miss Harvey joined the Exeter company, and there met

and married Mr. Davenport, an actor of ordinary talent and low comedy.

After she had been married a short while, Mrs. Davenport went to

Birmingham, where she remained a considerable time in hopes of

obtaining an engagement. But disappointed in this expectation, she

accepted an offer from Dublin, where Daly had opened his theatre, and

there she made her debut as Rosalind in _As You Like It_, a character

exactly suited to her, and in which she aroused great enthusiasm. Her

graceful figure, her voice, now full of tenderness, then of arch

humour, and her expressive face admirably suited the part. She

moreover performed the part of Fulmer in the _West Indian_. The

_Authentic Memoirs of the Green Room_ for 1796 says: "Mrs. Davenport a

tolerable substitute for Mrs. Webb, though not near so great.

The Davenports, tho' not of play'rs the first,

Are far from being in old folks the worst."

In 1794 she first performed at Covent Garden, as Mrs. Hardcastle, in

_She Stoops to Conquer_, and at that theatre she continued without a

rival till 1831, and occasionally filled up vacancies at the

Haymarket. Mr. Davenport died in 1841; by him she had a son and a

daughter. The former died in India, the latter in England.

Robson, in _The Old Playgoer_, says: "Brunton being the tall 'walking

gentleman,' there is no one else worth mentioning but dear, dear

Davenport, most truly not least though last. Lord! what a scream she

would give if she knew I was about to show her up! I can just remember

Mrs. Mattocks and Miss Pope.... But Mrs. Davenport was the McTab, the

Malaprop, the Nurse whose bantling, 'stinted and cried aye,' with a

villainous pain in her back, and a man Peter to carry her fan; the

'old mother Brulgruddery'; the Dame Ashfield with a 'damned bunch of

keys,' who immortalized 'What will Missus Grundy say to that?' and

would persuade a gentleman to put a ham under each arm and a turkey

into his pocket; Jeremy Diddler's beautiful maid at the foot of the

hill, who 'blushed like a red cabbage'; heigho! all visions--all gone.

"It was said of Mrs. Jordan that her laugh would have made the fortune

of any actress if she had not had the wit to bring out one word to

support it; but Mrs. Davenport's strong point was her scream. I wonder

whether she ever indulged her husband with it in the course of a curtain

lecture! Mercy on his nerves if she did! The appearance of her jolly red

face was the presage of mirth, and her scream the signal for a roar of

laughter. Good, cheerful soul! though an _old woman_ forty years, she

outlived nearly all her play-fellows, comfortably, happily, I hope."[28]

As an old lady her most celebrated personifications were the Nurse in

_Romeo and Juliet_, at which, in later times, she was hardly surpassed

by Mrs. Stirling.

The writer of the memoir in the _Georgian Æra_ says of her: "It has

not been inaptly said of her, that in the vulgar loquacity of the

would-be youthful Mrs. Hardcastle--the ugliness of the antiquated

virgin, Miss Durable--the imbecility of four score in Mrs. Nicely--the

sturdy brutality of Mrs. Brulgruddery--the warm-hearted cottager in

_Lovers' Vows_--the attempted elegances of Mrs. Dowlas--the fiery

humoured Dame Quickly--and the obtuse intellect of Deborah, she

overcame all rivalry."

In the edition of the _Authentic Memoirs of the Green Room_ for 1806 it

is said, after a mention of Mr. Davenport: "Wife to the above, and of

primary utility in a theatre as the representative of low, vulgar, and

antiquated characters. In this line she has not her superior on the

London stage. Her Mrs. Thorne in the _Birthday_, Lady Duberly in the

_Heir at Law_, Dame Ashfield in _Speed the Plough_, Widow Warren in _The

Road to Ruin_, Widow Cheshire in the _Agreeable Surprise_, Mrs. Pickle

in the _Spoiled Child_, with a long and diversified list of parts of a

similar description, deservedly rated high in the scale of histrionic

excellence--and what greatly enhances her value, she is not less to be

prized for the generality than for the intensive merit of her

performances. Wide and extensive as is the range of parts which she

sustains, there is not a single character in the whole list in which she

does not acquit herself with distinguished talent and ability."

This bright and merry actress was run over by a dray on July 20th,

1841, and died in S. Bartholomew's Hospital on May 8th, 1843, after a

lingering illness, at the age of eighty-four.

FOOTNOTE:

[28] _The Old Playgoer_, 1854, pp. 82-4.

THE ROYAL FAMILY OF PRUSSIA

"Over against Mousehole, across the great bay of Penzance, is Cudden

Point, jutting out into the sea, forming one horn of a promontory of

which the Enys forms the other, looking in the opposite direction.

Between these two lie three little coves, that of the Pixies, too

exposed and rocky for a harbour, but with its sides riddled with caves.

"Bessie's, called after Bessie Burrow, who kept the _Kidleywink_ on

the cliff, which was the great resort of the smugglers, bears on its

face to-day the traces of its history. A spot so sheltered and

secluded that it is impossible to see what boats are in the little

harbour until one literally leans over the edge of the cliff above; a

harbour cut out of the solid rock, and a roadway with wheel tracks

partly cut and partly worn, crossing the rocks below high-water mark;

and, climbing up the face of the cliff on each side of the cove, caves

and remains of caves everywhere, some with their mouths built up,

which are reputed to be connected with the house above by secret

passages. These are the trade marks of Bessie's Cove, and the world

has not yet known the degree of innocence which could believe that

these were made for the convenience of a few crabbers.

"The eastern and the most open is Prussia Cove. Here still stands

to-day the house in which John Carter, 'the King of Prussia,' lived

and reigned from 1770 to 1807."[29]

[Illustration: AT PRUSSIA COVE. "BESSY'S" COVE FROM BATTERY POINT

_From a drawing by A. Chevallier Taylor in the possession of J. B.

Cornish, Esq._]

The origin of the Carter family is obscure. It is supposed to have come

from Shropshire, and the name is not Cornish. But what could have

brought it to this wild and remote spot in the south-west is quite

unknown. The father, Francis Carter, was born in 1712 and died in 1774,

and his wife, Agnes, died in 1784. They had eight sons and two

daughters. The eldest of the sons was John, the famous Cornish King of

Prussia. He obtained this nickname in the following manner: He and other

boys were playing at soldiers, and the renown of Frederick the Great

having reached him, John dubbed himself the King of Prussia, and the

title not only adhered to him through life, but he has bequeathed the

name of Prussia to the cove, which formerly bore that of Porthleah.

John Carter, when he grew to man's estate, made himself fame as a

daring smuggler, and he was ably seconded by his brother Henry, who

contrived to his own satisfaction to combine perfervid piety with

cheating the customs.

Smuggling in those days was carried on upon a large scale, in cutters

and luggers armed with eighteen or twenty guns apiece. Harry Carter,

in his autobiography, says: "I think I might have been twenty-five

when I went in a small sloop about sixteen or eighteen tons, with two

men besides myself as smugglers, when I had very great success, and

after a while I had a new sloop built for me, about thirty-two tons.

My success was rather beyond common, and after a time we bought a

small cutter of about fifty tons, and about ten men." The measurements

at the present day would be ten, eighteen, and thirty tons.

John Carter was never caught. On one occasion the revenue officers

came to his house and demanded to ransack his sheds. One of these was

locked, and he refused to surrender the key, whereupon they broke it

open, but found that it contained only household articles. As they

were unable to refasten the door, the shed remained open all night,

and by morning everything it had contained had disappeared. The "King"

thereupon sued the officers for all his goods that had been taken from

him. It is perhaps needless to say that he had himself conveyed them

away. The officers had to refund the losses.

On one occasion when John Carter was absent from home, the excise

officers from Penzance came to Prussia Cove in their boats and

succeeded in securing a cargo lately arrived from France. They carried

it to Penzance and placed it under lock and key in the custom-house.

Carter, on his return, heard of the capture. He was highly incensed,

for the brandy had all been promised to some of the gentry round, and

he was not the man to receive an order and fail to execute it.

Accordingly, he made up his mind to recover the whole cargo. Assisted

by his mates, in the night he broke into the custom-house store and

removed every barrel that had been taken from him.

Next morning, when the officers saw what had been done, they knew who

the perpetrator was, for nothing had been touched and removed but what

the "King" claimed as his own; and these smugglers prided themselves

on being "all honourable men."

The most famous episode in John Carter's career was his firing on the

boat of the revenue cutter _The Faery_. A smuggling vessel, hard

pressed, ran through a narrow channel among the rocks between the Enys

and the shore. The cutter, not daring to venture nearer, sent her boat

in; whereupon Carter opened fire upon her from an improvised battery in

which he had mounted several small cannon. The boat had to withdraw.

Next morning the fight was resumed, _The Faery_ opening fire from the

sea. But in the meantime mounted soldiers from Penzance had arrived, and

these fired from the top of the hill upon those working the guns in the

battery, taking them in the rear. This was more than the smugglers could

stand, and they retreated to Bessie Burrow's house, and were not further

molested, the soldiers contenting themselves with remounting their

horses and riding back to Penzance. Unfortunately, with regard to John

Carter, the "King of Prussia," we have but scattered notices and

tradition to rely upon; but it is otherwise with his brother Henry, who

has left an autobiography that has been transcribed and published by Mr.

J. B. Cornish under the title _The Autobiography of a Cornish Smuggler_,

London (Gibbons and Co.), 1900.

But Harry Carter is somewhat reticent about the doings of the

smugglers, and avoids giving names, for when he wrote "free trade" was

in full swing. He wrote in 1809, when John his brother and the "Cove

boys" were still at it, and Prussia Cove had not ceased to be a great

centre of smugglers. He is much more concerned to record his religious

experiences, all of which we could well spare for fuller details of

the goings-on of his brothers and their comrades.

In 1778 an embargo was laid on all English trade, when the French

Government made a treaty with the States of America, and not knowing

of this, Henry Carter was arrested at S. Malo, and his cutter, with

sixteen guns and thirty-six men, taken from him. He was sent to the

prison at Dinan; and in like manner his brother John was taken, and

they were allowed to remain on parole at Josselin till the November of

1779, when they were exchanged by order of the Lords of the Admiralty

for two French gentlemen. "So, after I was at home some time, riding

about the country getting freights, collecting money for the company,

etc., we bought a cutter about 160 tons (50 tons), nineteen guns. I

went in her some time smuggling. I had great success."

In January, 1788, he went with a freight to Cawsand in a lugger of 45

tons in modern measurement, and mounting sixteen carriage guns. But he

was boarded, and so cut about the head, and his nose nearly severed in

two, that he fell bleeding on the deck.

"I suppose I might have been there about a quarter of an hour, until

they had secured my people below, and after found me lying on the deck.

One of them said, 'Here is one of the poor fellows dead.' Another made

answer, 'Put the man below.' He answered again, 'What use is it to put a

dead man below?' and so passed on. So I laid there very quiet for near

the space of two hours, hearing their discourse as they walked by me,

the night being very dark on the 30th January, 1788. The commanding

officer gave orders for a lantern to be brought, so they took up one of

my legs as I was lying upon my belly; he let it go, and it fell as dead

down on the deck. He likewise put his hand up under my clothes, between

my shirt and my skin, and then examined my head, and so concluded,

saying, 'The man is so warm now as he was two hours back, but his head

is all to atoms.' The water being ebbing, the vessel (that was grounded)

making a great heel to the shore, so that in the course of a very little

time after, as their two boats was made fast alongside, one of them

broke adrift. Immediately there was orders given to man the other boat

in order to fetch her, so that when I saw them in this state of

confusion, their guard broken, I thought it was my time to make my

escape, so I crept on my belly on the deck, and got over a large raft

just before the mainmast, close by one of the men's heels, as he was

standing there handing the trysail. When I got over the lee-side I

thought I should be able to swim on shore in a stroke or two. I took

hold of the burtons of the mast, and as I was lifting myself over the

side I was taken with the cramp in one of my thighs. So then I thought I

should be drowned, but still willing to risk it, so that I let myself

over the side very easily by a rope into the water. As I was very near

the shore, I thought to swim on shore in the course of a stroke or two,

but soon found my mistake. I was sinking almost like a stone, and

hauling astern in deeper water, when I gave up all hopes of life and

began to swallow some water. I found a rope under my breast, so that I

had not lost my senses. I hauled upon it, and soon found one end fast to

the side just where I went overboard, which gave me a little hope of

life. So that when I got there, I could not tell which was best, to call

to the man-of-war's men to take me in, or to stay there and die, for my

life and strength were almost exhausted. But whilst I was thinking of

this, touched bottom with my feet. Hope then sprang up, and I soon found

another rope, leading towards the head of the vessel in shoaler water,

so that I veered upon one and hauled upon the other, that brought me

under the bowsprit, and then at times upon the send of a sea, my feet

were almost dry. I let go the rope, but as soon as I attempted to run

fell down, and as I fell, looking round about me, I saw three men

standing close by. I knew they were the man-of-war's men seeking for

the boat, so I lay there quiet for some little time, and then crept upon

my belly I suppose about the distance of fifty yards, and as the ground

was scuddy, some flat rock mixed with channels of sand, I saw before me

a channel of white sand, and for fear to be seen creeping over it, which

would take some time, not knowing there was anything the matter with me,

made the second attempt to run, and fell in the same manner as before.

"My brother Charles being there, looking out for the vessel, desired

some Cawsand men to go down to see if they could pick up any of the

men dead or alive, not expecting ever to see me any more, almost sure

I was either shot or drowned. One of them saw me fall, ran to my

assistance, and taking hold of me under the arm, says, 'Who are you?'

So, as I thought him to be an enemy, made no answer. He said, 'Fear

not; I am a friend. Come with me.' And by that time were come two

more, which took me under both arms, and the other pushed me in the

back, and so dragged me up to the town. My strength was almost

exhausted. They took me into a room where were seven or eight Cawsand

men and my brother Charles, and when he saw me he knew me by my great

coat, and cried with joy. So then they immediately stripped off my wet

clothes, and sent for a doctor and put me to bed. The bone of my nose

was cut right in two, nothing but a bit of skin holding it, and two

very large cuts in my head, that two or three pieces of my skull

worked out of afterwards."

He was now hurried off in a chaise to his brother Charles' house,

where he remained for a week. Then as a reward of three hundred pounds

was offered for his apprehension, he was conveyed to a gentleman's

house in Marazion, where he remained concealed for two or three

weeks, and thence was taken to Acton House, belonging to Mr. John

Stackhouse, but only for a while, and shifted back to Marazion. Then

again to the castle. The surgeon who was called in to attend him was

blindfolded by the men sent to fetch him and conducted to the

hiding-place of Henry Carter.

[Illustration: JOHN CARTER'S HOUSE AT PRUSSIA COVE

_Demolished in 1906_]

In October he sailed for Leghorn, then on the same vessel loaded at

Barcelona with brandy for New York. It was no longer safe for him to

remain in England till the affair was blown over, and he did not return

till October in the year 1790, and was soon again engaged in alternate

preaching in Methodist chapels, and in smuggling brandy from Roscoff. On

one of these excursions in 1793 he was arrested at Roscoff, as war had

been declared between France and England. This was during the Reign of

Terror, at a time when the Convention had decreed that no quarter should

be given to an Englishman, and an English prisoner was placed on the

same footing as a "suspect" or "aristocrat," and stood a great chance of

losing his head under the knife. He does not, however, seem to have been

harshly treated, only moved about from place to place, sometimes in a

prison, at others lodged in a private house; a good many of his French

fellow-prisoners, however, suffered death. In his own words and

spelling: "There was numbers of gent and lades taken away to Brest that

I parssially know, and their heads chopt off with the gulenteen with a

very little notice."

Robespierre was executed on 28th July, 1794; and soon after his death

the Convention decreed the release of great numbers of "suspects" and

other prisoners. It was not, however, till August, 1795, that Henry

Carter got his passport and was able to leave. He arrived at Falmouth

on August 22nd. "Arived on shore aboute three o'clock in the afternoon

with much fear and trembling, where I meet with my dear little

(daughter) Bettsy, there staying with her aunt, Mrs. Smythe, then

between 8 and 9 years old.... I staid that night at Falmouth, the next

morning went to Penryn with my dear little Bettsey in my hand. The next

morning, on Sunday, took a horse and arrived at Breage Churchtown aboute

eleven o'clock, where I meet my dear brother Frank, then in his way to

church. As I first took him in surprise, at first I could harly make him

sensable I was his brother, being nearley two years without hearing

whether I was dead or alife. But when he come to himself as it were, we

rejoiced together with exceeding great joy indeed. We went to his house

in Rinsey, and after dinner went to see brother John (in Prussia Cove).

We sent him word before I was coming. But he could harly believe it. But

first looking out with his glass saw me yet a long way off. Ran to meet

me, fell upon my neck. We passed the afternoon with him, and in the

evning went to Keneggy to see brother Charles."

The autobiography ends abruptly in the year 1795, but the writer lived

on until April 19th, 1829, spending the last thirty years of his life

on a little farm at Rinsey.

In addition to the two authorities quoted, both due to Mr. Cornish,

there is a memoir of Henry Carter in the _Wesleyan Methodist Magazine_

for October, 1831.

FOOTNOTE:

[29] J. B. Cornish in the _Cornish Magazine_, 1898, p. 121.

CAPTAIN RICHARD KEIGWIN

The English East India Company had been founded December 31st, 1600,

and it obtained from Queen Elizabeth the exclusive privilege for

fifteen years of trading with India and all countries to the east of

the Cape of Good Hope, in Africa and in Asia. The first settlement

effected was at Surat in 1612, by Captain Thomas Best, who defeated

the Portuguese in two battles. But through the jealousy of the Dutch

and their encroachments, and the disturbances in England caused by the

Great Rebellion, the East India Company fell to decay. Although

Cromwell in 1657 renewed its privileges, the English made little

headway. On April 3rd, 1661, Charles II confirmed and renewed all the

ancient privileges, and handed over to the Company Bombay, which he

had received from Spain as the portion of Catherine of Braganza.

Dr. Fryer, a surgeon in the service of the Company, travelled in India

between 1673 and 1681, and has left some graphic descriptions of it.

He sailed from Madras to Bombay, passing up the Malabar coast, and

noting how that the Dutch were elbowing the Portuguese out of their

posts. At last he entered the harbour of Bombay, so called from its

Portuguese name Bona-baija. He found there a Government House, with

pleasant gardens, terraces, and bowers; but the place had been meanly

fortified, and the Malabar pirates often plundered the native villages

and carried off the inhabitants as slaves. However, the Company took

the place vigorously in hand, loaded the terraces with cannon, and

built ramparts over the bowers. When Fryer landed, Bombay Castle was

mounted with a hundred and twenty pieces of ordnance, whilst sixty

field-pieces were kept in readiness. The Dutch had made an attempt to

capture Bombay, but had been repulsed.

Bombay itself was an island, with a superb landlocked harbour, but it

had at its back the great and powerful kingdom of the Mahrattas.

But the vast expense of placing Bombay in a position of defence had

been so inadequately met by the revenue derived from it, that the

Company was dissatisfied with its acquisition, and being, moreover,

burdened with debt, it had recourse to the unhappy expedient of

raising the taxation and reducing the officers' pay. It was ordered

that the annual expenses of the island should be limited to £7000; the

military establishment was to be reduced to two lieutenants, two

ensigns, four sergeants, as many corporals and 108 privates. A troop

of horse was to be disbanded, and Keigwin, the commandant, was

dismissed. This was in 1678-9.

Richard Keigwin was the third son of Richard Keigwin, of Penzance, and

of his wife Margaret, daughter of Nicholas Godolphin, of Trewarveneth.

The family was ancient and honourable. His great-grandfather, Jenkin

Keigwin, had been killed by the Spaniards in 1595. Richard entered the

Royal Navy, became a captain and then colonel of Marines, and was

appointed Governor of S. Helena, then a possession of the East India

Company, by grant of Charles II. After that he was transferred to

Bombay, and had the commandantship there.

He was highly offended at being thrust out of his position, and he,

moreover, knew that Bombay was menaced by both the Sambhajee and the

Siddee, both of whom were desirous of gaining a footing on the island,

and each was jealous lest the other should anticipate him in its

acquisition.

In order that he might represent the danger that menaced of losing

Bombay Captain Keigwin resolved on reporting in person to the Company

how matters stood, and he accordingly went to the directors and laid

the case before them with such force that they consented to send him

back to Bombay with the rank of captain-lieutenant, and he was to be

third in the Council. But with singular capriciousness, in the

following year, when Keigwin was at Bombay, they rescinded the order,

reduced his pay to six shillings a day, without allowance for food and

lodging, and made further reductions in the general pay and increase

in the taxes. This embittered the garrison and the natives alike.[30]

"During the greater part of the reign of Charles the Second," says

Macaulay, "the Company enjoyed a prosperity to which the history of

trade scarcely furnishes a parallel, and which excited the wonder, the

cupidity, and the envious animosity of the whole capital. Wealth and

luxury were then rapidly increasing, the taste for spices, the tissues

and the jewels of the East, became stronger day by day; tea, which at

the time when Monk brought the army of Scotland to London had been

handed round to be stared at and just touched with the lips, as a

great rarity from China, was, eight years later, a regular article of

import, and was soon consumed in such quantities that financiers began

to consider it as a fit subject for taxation." Coffee, moreover, had

become a fashionable drink, and the coffee-houses of London were the

resorts of every description of club. But coffee came from Mocha, and

the East India Company had sole right to import that, as it had

absolute monopoly of the trade of the Indian Sea.

Nor was that all; vast quantities of saltpetre were imported into

England from the East for the manufacture of gunpowder. But for this

supply our muskets and cannon would have been speechless. It was

reckoned that all Europe would hardly produce in one year saltpetre

sufficient for the siege of one town fortified on the principles of

Vauban.

The gains of the Company were enormous, so enormous as in no way to

justify the cheeseparing that was had recourse to at Bombay. But these

gains were not distributed among a large number of shareholders, but

swelled the pockets of a few, for as the profits increased the number

of holders of stock diminished.

The man who obtained complete control over the affairs of the Company

was Sir Josiah Child, who had risen from an apprentice who swept out

one of the counting-houses in the City to great wealth and power. His

brother John was given an almost uncontrolled hand at Surat.

The Company had been popularly considered as a Whig body. Among the

members of the directing committee had been found some of the most

vehement exclusionists in the City, that is to say, those who had

voted for the exclusion of James, Duke of York, from any claim to the

crown of England on the decease of Charles II. This was an affront

James was not likely to forget and forgive. Indeed two of them, Sir

Samuel Barnardiston and Thomas Papillon, drew on themselves a severe

persecution by their zeal against Popery and arbitrary power.

The wonderful prosperity of the Company had excited, as already

intimated, the envy of the merchants in London and Bristol; moreover,

the people suffered from the monopoly being in the hands of a few

stockholders, who controlled the market. The Company was fiercely

attacked from without at the same time that it was distracted by

internal dissensions.

Captain Keigwin now called upon the inhabitants of Bombay to take an

oath of allegiance to the Crown, and to renounce the Company and

submission to its commands. With this the whole of the garrison,

militia and inhabitants, complied; the troops from expectation of

relief from the grievances of which they had complained, and the

inhabitants from anticipating relief from taxation.

Captain Keigwin and his associates then addressed a letter to His

Majesty and to the Duke of York, expressing their determination to

maintain the island for the King till his pleasure should be known,

and enumerating the causes which had impelled them to revolt--the

principal being to prevent Bombay from being seized by the Siddee, or

Admiral of the Mogul, who with a numerous fleet was lying near, or

else by the Sambhajee, the Mahratta rajah, who was watching his

opportunity to descend on Bombay and annex it.

Captain Keigwin and the conspirators next represented to the Court of

Committee that the selfish scheme of Josiah Child in England, and of

his brother John Child of Surat, had been at the bottom of the whole

mischief which caused the disaffection, and added that both the

garrison and inhabitants were determined to continue in allegiance to

the Crown alone till the King's pleasure should be made known to them.

But Keigwin was no match for the subtle and unprincipled Sir Josiah

Child and his brother John. Josiah had been originally brought into

the direction of the Company by Barnardiston and Papillon, and was

supposed, and he allowed it to be supposed, that he was as ardent a

Whig as were they. He had for years stood high in the opinion of the

chiefs of the Parliamentary opposition, and had been especially

obnoxious to the Duke of York.

There had for some time been interference with the monopoly by what

were called "interlopers" or free traders, to the great vexation of

the Company. These interlopers now determined to affect the character

of loyal men, who were determined to stand by the Crown against the

insolent Whigs of the Company. "They spread at all the factories in

the East reports that England was in confusion, that the sword had

been drawn or would immediately be drawn, and that the Company was

forward in the rebellion against the Crown. These rumours, which in

truth were not improbable, easily found credit among people separated

from London by what was then a voyage of twelve months. Some servants

of the Company who were in ill humour with their employers, and others

who were zealous Royalists, joined the primitive traders."

On December 27th, 1683, Captain Keigwin, assisted by Ensign Thornburn

and others, seized on Mr. Ward, the deputy governor, and such members

of the Council as adhered to him, assembled the troops and the

militia, pronounced the authority of the East India Company as at an

end by formal proclamation, and declared the island to be placed under

the King's immediate protection. Thereupon the garrison, consisting

of one hundred and fifty English soldiers and two hundred native

topasses, and the inhabitants of the island, elected Keigwin to be

governor, and appointed officers to the different companies,

store-keepers, harbour-masters, etc., declaring, however, that the

Company might, if their servants would acknowledge the King's

government as proclaimed, proceed in their several avocations without

molestation. Keigwin then took possession of the Company's ship

_Return_ and the frigate _Huntley_, and landed the treasure, amounting

to fifty or sixty thousand rupees, which he lodged in the fort, and he

published a declaration that it should be employed solely in the

defence of the King's island and government.

But Child looked ahead, and saw that inevitably James, Duke of York, at

no very distant period would be King of England. The Whigs were cowed by

the discovery of the Rye House Plot, and the execution of Lord Russell

and Algernon Sidney. It was high time for Child to turn his coat, and

this he did rapidly and with dexterity. He forced his two patrons,

Barnardiston and Papillon, out of the Company, filled their places with

creatures of his own, and established himself as autocrat. Then he made

overtures to the Court, to the King, and to the Duke of York, and he

soon became a favourite at Whitehall, and the favour which he enjoyed at

Whitehall confirmed his power at the India House. He made a present of

ten thousand pounds to Charles, and another ten thousand pounds to

James, who readily consented to become a holder of stock. "All who could

help or hurt at Court," says Macaulay, "ministers, mistresses, priests,

were kept in good humour by presents of shawls and silks, birds' nests

and attar of roses, bulses of diamonds and bags of guineas. His bribes,

distributed with judicious prodigality, speedily produced a large

return. Just when the Court became all-powerful in the State, he became

all-powerful at the Court."

Against such machinations as these Keigwin was powerless. Whatever

Child asked should be done to maintain the authority of the Company

was granted. Keigwin had appealed to hear the will of the King. The

King's answer was but the echo of the voice of Child.

On the 31st January, 1683-4, President John Child from Surat arrived off

Bombay with some commissioners, and met Keigwin with offers of pardon

for his rebellion, but the offer was indignantly refused. Keigwin would

deal with no one but the King himself, and some plain truths were told

to John Child, that it was he and his brother, by their greed after gold

and indifference to the welfare of the settlement, that caused all the

trouble. The consultation lasted till March, 1683-4, and then Child had

to return to Surat, without having effected anything.

In the meantime the Court of Directors sent in a report to the King,

on 15th August, 1684, with a long statement of its grievances, and a

claim for protection, according to the charter of the Society.

Charles II could do no other than order that the island should be

delivered over to the Presidency of Surat, and a Commission under the

Great Seal was issued to President Child and to the commanders of the

Company's ships, empowering them to receive the surrender of Bombay

from Keigwin and his associates and to offer a generous pardon to all,

except the four ringleaders, who should within twenty-four hours after

notice return to their duty.

Captain Tyrell, with H.M.S. _Phœnix_, frigate, was despatched, with

Sir Thomas Graham as admiral, to settle the affair.

But Captain Keigwin had no idea of resistance. It had been further

ordered that if Keigwin and his followers should attempt opposition,

all should be denounced as rebels, and a reward of 4000 rupees should

be paid to any one who should deliver up Keigwin, and 2000 for

Alderton, and 200 for Fletcher.

Sir Thomas Graham arrived in the Bay of Bombay on the 10th November,

1684, and with great promptitude landed without attendants, and had a

conference with Keigwin, who protested that he had only revolted

against the misgovernment of the Company, and to save Bombay from

being seized by one or other of the Indian princes who were aiming to

secure it. He at once accepted the offer made to him of pardon, and

surrendered Bombay. He went on board the vessel of Sir Thomas Graham

and arrived in England in July, 1685.

During his enjoyment of power Captain Keigwin had acted with integrity

and wisely and judiciously. He had relations with the native princes,

and he showed an amount of prudence and clear judgment that eventually

greatly benefited the East India Company. He induced Sambhajee, the

Mahratta rajah, to permit the establishment of factories in the

Carnatic and allow them 12,000 pagodas as compensation for losses

sustained at places plundered by the Mahrattas. Keigwin repressed the

insolence of the Mogul admiral, Siddee, with decision, and would

neither suffer him to keep his fleet at Mazapore, nor even to go

there, except for water. In fact, had the Company known it, they had

in Keigwin an admirable servant, a Clive before the time of that hero.

But the directors were a number of commercial speculators who saw no

further than a few years before them, and were eager at once to be

rich. They cast this man aside, who, had they employed him, would have

made India theirs; and, a disappointed man, he entered the Royal Navy

and died at the taking of S. Kitts, in the West Indies, in command of

H.M.S. _Assistance_, 22nd June, 1689.

It is one of the great mysteries of life and death that men who might

have revolutionized the world are swept aside and hardly anything is

recorded concerning them. Richard Keigwin was one such, full of

self-confidence, vigour of character, restraint, and judgment. But he

lived at a time and under a reign in which there was no appreciation

of merit, and corruption and self-interest bore him down.

FOOTNOTE:

[30] The Company levied a duty of half a dollar upon all ships anchoring

in the harbour, one rupee a year on each fishing-boat, and the same on

every ship. Lastly, with what seems unparalleled meanness, they ordered

that only half of the native labourers' wages should be paid in coin,

the other half in rice valued "at the Company's price," which would give

ten per cent clear profit after all expenses had been defrayed.

THE LOSS OF THE "KENT"

The _Kent_, Captain Henry Cobb, 1350 tons, bound for Bengal and China,

left the Downs on 19th February, 1825, with 20 officers, 344 soldiers,

43 women, and 66 children belonging to the 31st Regiment; 20 private

passengers and a crew, including officers, of 148 men on board, making

in all 641 souls.

A gale came on in the Bay of Biscay, and the ship rolled greatly. On

1st March the dead weight of some hundred tons of shot and shells,

pressed so heavily with the rolling that the main chains were thrown

by every lurch under water; and the best cleated articles of furniture

in the cabin and the cuddy (the large dining apartment) were dashed

from side to side.

One of the officers of the ship, with the well-meant intention of

ascertaining that all was fast below, descended with two of the

sailors into the hold, whither they carried with them for safety a

light in a patent lantern; and seeing that the lamp was burning dimly,

the officer took the precaution to hand it up to the orlop deck to be

trimmed. Having afterwards discovered that one of the spirit casks was

adrift, he sent a sailor for some billets of wood to secure it, but

the ship in his absence having made a heavy lurch, the officer

unfortunately dropped the light, and letting go of his hold of the

cask in his eagerness to recover the lantern, it suddenly stove, and,

the spirits communicating with the lamp, the whole place was

instantly in a blaze.

Major (afterwards Sir Duncan) McGregor, who was on board at the time

with his wife and family, says:--

"I received from Captain Spence, the captain of the day, the alarming

information that the ship was on fire in the after-hold. On hastening to

the hatchway whence smoke was slowly ascending, I found Captain Cobb and

other officers already giving orders, which seemed to be promptly obeyed

by seamen and troops, who were using every exertion by means of the

pumps, buckets of water, wet sails, hammocks, etc., to extinguish the

flames. With a view to excite the ladies' alarm as little as possible,

on conveying the intelligence to Colonel Faron, the commanding officer

of the troops, I knocked gently at the cabin door, and expressed a wish

to speak with him; but whether my countenance betrayed the state of my

feelings, or the increasing noise and confusion upon deck created

apprehension, I found it difficult to pacify some of the ladies by

assurances that no danger whatever was to be apprehended from the gale.

As long as the devouring element appeared to be confined to the spot

where the fire had originated, and which we were assured was surrounded

on all sides by water-casks, we ventured to cherish hopes that it might

be subdued; but no sooner was the light blue vapour that at first arose

succeeded by volumes of black dingy smoke, which speedily ascended

through all the four hatchways, rolled over every part of the ship, than

all further concealment became impossible, and almost all hope of

preserving the vessel was abandoned.

"In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and

decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the

danger, resorted to the only alternative now left him--of ordering the

lower decks to be scuttled, the combing of the hatches to be cut, and

the lower ports to be opened, for the free admission of the waves.

"These instructions were speedily executed by the united efforts of

the troops and seamen; but not before some of the sick soldiers, one

woman, and several children, unable to gain the upper deck, had

perished. On descending to the gun-deck with one or two officers of

the 31st Regiment to assist in opening the ports, I met, staggering

towards the hatchway, in an exhausted and nearly senseless state, one

of the mates, who informed us that he had just stumbled over the dead

bodies of some individuals who must have died of suffocation, to which

it was evident that he himself had almost fallen a victim. So dense

and oppressive was the smoke that it was with the utmost difficulty we

could remain long enough below to fulfil Captain Cobb's wishes; which

were no sooner accomplished than the sea rushed in with extraordinary

force, carrying away in its restless progress to the hold the largest

chests, bulkheads, etc."

The immense quantity of water that was thus introduced into the vessel

had, indeed, for a time the effect of checking the fury of the flames;

but the danger of sinking was increased as the risk of explosion, should

the fire reach the powder, was diminished. The ship became water-logged,

and presented other indications of settling previous to going down.

"The upper deck was covered with between six and seven hundred human

beings, many of whom from previous sea-sickness were forced on the

first alarm from below in a state of absolute nakedness, and were now

running about in quest of husbands, children, or parents. While some

were standing in silent resignation or in stupid insensibility to

their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to the most

frantic despair. Several of the soldiers' wives and children, who had

fled for temporary shelter into the after cabins on the upper decks,

were engaged in prayer with the ladies, some of whom were enabled,

with wonderful self-possession, to offer to others spiritual

consolation; and the dignified deportment of two young ladies in

particular formed a specimen of natural strength of mind finely

modified by Christian feeling.

"Among the numerous objects that struck my observation at the period,

I was much affected by the appearance and conduct of some of the dear

children, who, quite unconscious in the cuddy cabin of the perils that

surrounded them, continued to play as usual with their little toys in

bed. To some of the older children, who seemed alive to the reality of

the danger, I whispered, 'Now is the time to put in practice the

instructions you have received at the regimental school and to think

of the Saviour.' They replied, as the tears ran down their cheeks, 'Oh

sir! we are trying to remember them, and we are praying to God.'

"It occurred to Mr. Thomson, the fourth mate, to send a man to the

foretop, rather with the ardent wish than with the expectation, that

some friendly sail might be discovered on the face of the waters. The

sailor, on mounting, threw his eyes round the horizon for a moment--a

moment of unutterable suspense--and, waving his hat, exclaimed, 'A

sail on the leeboard!'

"The joyful announcement was received with three cheers upon deck. Our

flags of distress were instantly hoisted and our minute guns fired;

and we endeavoured to bear down under our three topsails and foresail

upon the stranger, which afterwards proved to be the _Cambria_, a

small brig of 200 tons burden, having on board twenty or thirty

Cornish miners and other agents of the Anglo-Mexican Company.

"For ten or fifteen minutes we were left in doubt whether the brig

perceived our signals, or, perceiving them, was either disposed or

able to lend us any assistance. From the violence of the gale, it

seems that the report of our guns was not heard; but the ascending

volumes of smoke from the ship sufficiently announced the dreadful

nature of our distress, and we had the satisfaction, after a short

period of suspense, to see the brig hoist British colours and crowd

all sail to hasten to our relief.

"I confess that when I reflected on the long period our ship had

already been burning--on the tremendous sea that was running--on the

extreme smallness of the brig, and the immense number of human beings

to be saved--I could only venture to hope that a few might be spared;

but I durst not for a moment contemplate the possibility of my own

preservation."

To prevent the rush to the boats as they were being lowered, some of

the military officers were stationed over them with drawn swords.

Arrangements were made by Captain Cobb for placing in the first boat,

previous to letting it down, all the ladies and as many of the

soldiers' wives as it could safely contain. They hurriedly wrapped

themselves up in whatever articles of clothing could be found, and at

about 2 p.m. or 2.30 p.m. a mournful procession advanced from the aft

cabin to the starboard cuddy port, outside of which the cutter was

suspended. Scarcely a word was uttered; not a scream was heard. Even

the infants ceased to cry, as if conscious of the unspoken,

unspeakable anguish that was at that instant rending the hearts of

their parting parents--nor was the silence of voices in any way

broken, except in one or two cases, where the ladies plaintively

entreated permission to be left behind with their husbands.

Although Captain Cobb had used every precaution to diminish the danger

of the boat's descent, and for this purpose had stationed a man with an

axe to cut away the tackle from either extremity should the slightest

difficulty occur in unhooking it, yet the peril attending the whole

operation nearly proved fatal to its numerous inmates. After a couple of

unsuccessful attempts to place the frail bark fairly on the heaving

surface of the water, the command was given at length to unhook. The

tackle at the stern was, in consequence, immediately cleared; but the

ropes at the bow having got fast, the sailor there found it impossible

to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to the entangled tackle.

The moment was inconceivably critical, as the boat, which necessarily

followed the motion of the ship, was gradually rising out of the water,

and must, in another instant, have been hanging perpendicularly by the

bow, and its helpless inmates in that event would have been shot down

into the boiling surf. But at that moment, providentially, a wave

suddenly struck and lifted the stern, so as to enable the seaman to

disentangle the tackle, and the boat, dexterously cleared from the

wreck, was seen after a little while from the poop battling with the

billows on its way to the _Cambria_, which prudently lay to at some

distance from the _Kent_, lest she should be involved in her explosion,

or exposed to the fire of her guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards

went off as the flames reached them successively.

The men had, accordingly, a considerable distance to row. The better

to balance the boat in the raging seas through which it had to make

its way, as also to enable the seamen to ply their oars, the women

and children were stowed promiscuously under the seats, and

consequently exposed to the risk of being drowned by the continual

dashing of the spray over their heads, which so filled the boat during

the passage, that before they arrived at the brig the poor creatures

were crouching up to their breasts in water, and their children kept

above it with the greatest difficulty by their numbed hands.

However, in the course of between twenty minutes and half an hour, the

little cutter was seen alongside the brig.

But the perils of the passage were not over; the boat was heaved up

against the side of the rolling and pitching _Cambria_, and the

difficulty of getting the women and children out of the cutter and on

to the deck was great. Moreover, the boat stood in imminent danger of

being stove in against the side of the brig whilst its passengers were

disembarking.

Here it was that the Cornish miners on board the _Cambria_ notably

distinguished themselves, and above all Joseph Warren from S. Just, a

famous wrestler. Being a man of enormous strength, he stood on the

chains and caught first the children as they were tossed to his arms,

passed them up on deck, and then lifted the women bodily from the boat

as it heaved up within his reach, and passed them over his head to the

men above.

The women showed great self-possession. They had been urged to avail

themselves of every favourable heave of the sea, by springing towards

the friendly arms that were extended to receive them; and

notwithstanding the deplorable consequence of making a false step, or

misjudging a distance, under such critical circumstances, not a single

accident occurred to any individual belonging to this first boat.

Three out of the six boats originally possessed by the _Kent_ were

swamped in the course of the day, one of them with men in it; and the

boats took three-quarters of an hour over each trip, so that night

settled down, adding to the difficulties and dangers, and bringing

ever nearer the prospect of the fire reaching the powder magazine and

blowing all who remained on board into eternity.

Sir Donald McGregor tells some pathetic stories of the rest of the

crew and passengers. One woman had vainly entreated to be allowed to

go to India with her husband, and when refused, had contrived to hide

herself in the vessel as a stowaway till it was well out at sea. As he

was endeavouring to reach one of the boats, he fell overboard, and his

head, coming between the heaving boat and the side of the ship, was

crushed like a nut in her sight. Sad instances occurred where a

husband had to make election between the saving of his wife and that

of his children. The courage of some utterly failed them. Nothing

would induce them to enter or try to enter one of the boats leaping on

the waves beside the burning ship. Rather than adventure that they

would remain and take their chances on the wreck. Some, making false

leaps into the boats, fell into the waves and were drowned.

At last all who could or would be saved were brought on board the

_Cambria_.

"After the arrival of the last boat, the flames, which had spread

along her upper deck and poop, ascended with the rapidity of lightning

to the masts and rigging, forming one general conflagration that

illumined the heavens, and was strongly reflected upon several objects

on board the brig.

"The flags of distress, hoisted in the morning, were seen for a

considerable time waving amid the flames, until the masts to which

they were suspended successively fell over the ship's sides. At last,

about 1.30 in the morning, the devouring element having communicated

to the magazine, the long-threatened explosion was seen, and the

blazing fragments of the once magnificent _Kent_ were instantly

hurried, like so many rockets, high into the air, leaving in the

comparative darkness that succeeded the dreadful scene of that

disastrous day floating before the mind like some feverish dream.

"I trust that you will keep in mind that Captain Cook's generous

intentions and exertions must have proved utterly unavailing for the

preservation of so many lives had they not been most nobly and

unremittingly supported by those of his mate and crew, as well as of

the numerous passengers on board his brig. While the former, only

eight in number, were usefully employed in watching the vessel, the

sturdy Cornish miners and Yorkshire smelters, on the approach of the

different boats, took their perilous station upon the chains, where

they put forth the great muscular strength with which Heaven had

endowed them, in dexterously seizing, at each successive heave of the

sea, on some of the exhausted people and dragging them upon deck. Nor

did their kind anxieties terminate there. They and the gentlemen

connected with them cheerfully opened their stores of clothes and

provisions, which they liberally dispensed to the naked and famished

sufferers; and they surrendered their beds to the helpless women and

children, and seemed, in short, during the whole passage to England,

to take no other delight than in ministering to all our wants."

Captain Cook of the _Cambria_ at once turned the vessel and steered

for Falmouth.

On reaching Falmouth report of the distressed condition of those who

had been rescued was sent to Colonel Fenwick, Lieutenant-Governor of

Pendennis Castle, and the people of Falmouth showed the utmost

kindness and hospitality to those who had been saved.

On the first Sunday after they had disembarked, Colonel Fearon, all

the officers and men, Captain Cobb and the sailors and passengers

attended church at Falmouth to give thanks to Almighty God for their

deliverance from a fearful death.

"FALMOUTH, _March 16th, 1825_.

"_To the Committee of the Inhabitants of Falmouth._

"GENTLEMEN,

"In tracing the various links in the ample chain of mercy and bounty

with which it has pleased a gracious Providence to surround the

numerous individuals lately rescued from the destruction of the Hon.

Company's ship _Kent_, we, the Lieut.-Col. Commanding, and officers

belonging to the right wing of the 31st Regiment, cannot but reflect

with increasing gratitude on the beneficence of that arrangement

whereby ourselves and our gallant men, after the awful and

afflicting calamity that befell us, were cast upon the sympathies of

the inhabitants of Falmouth and the adjacent towns, who have so

widely opened their hearts to feel, and munificently extended their

hands to provide for our numerous and necessary wants.

"We were thrown upon your shore as penniless strangers, and ye took

us in; we were hungry and ye gave us meat; naked and ye clothed us;

sick and ye relieved and comforted us. We have found you rejoicing

with those of us who rejoiced, and weeping with such of us as had

cause to weep. You have visited our fatherless and widows in their

affliction, and sought by increasing acts of the most seasonable,

effective, and delicate charity, to alleviate the measure of our

sufferings.

"Under such circumstances, what can we say, or where shall we find

words to express our emotions? You have created between us and our

beloved country an additional bond of affection and gratitude, that

will animate our future zeal, and enable us, amidst all the

vicissitudes of our professional life, to point out Falmouth to our

companions in arms as one of the bright spots in our happy land

where the friendless shall find many friends, and the afflicted

receive abundant consolation.

"In the name and on behalf of the officers of the

"Right Wing of the 31st Regiment,

"R. B. FEARON, Lieut-Col., 31st Foot."

Joseph Warren, the S. Just miner and wrestler who had so powerfully

assisted in the rescue of the unfortunates from the _Kent_, strained his

back in heaving up the women on deck, that ever after deprived him of

power to wrestle or exercise his ancient strength. One of the ladies

whom he had rescued paid him an annuity through the rest of his life,

and he died at his old home at S. Just-in-Penwith, 28th January, 1842.

VICE-ADMIRAL SIR CHARLES V.

PENROSE

The Penrose family is one of the most ancient in Cornwall. The name

signifies the Head of the Moor, and it belonged _par excellence_ to

the Land's End, where, at S. Sennen, we find the Penroses seated as

landed gentry from the time of Edward I. They had branches in Sithney,

Manaccan, and S. Anthony-in-Meneage. They mated with the best in the

county--the Trefusis, the Killigrews, the Eriseys, and the Boscawens.

One broke away from the circle of beautiful Celtic names, and took to

wife a daughter of Sir Anthony Buggs, Knt. Happy must the lady have

felt to cease to be Miss Buggs and become Madame Penrose!

Charles Vinicombe Penrose was the youngest son and child of the Rev.

John Penrose, vicar of Gluvias, and was born at Gluvias, June 20th,

1759. In the spring of 1775 he was appointed midshipman on board the

_Levant_ frigate, Captain Murray, under whose command he passed the

whole period of his service during the next twenty-two years of his

life, and who (with one trifling exception) was the only captain with

whom he ever sailed, either as midshipman or as lieutenant. In 1779

young Penrose was made lieutenant, and was appointed to the _Cleopatra_.

All the summer and a part of the winter of 1780 were passed in cruising

off the Flemish bank. Captain Murray was then sent with a small

squadron to intercept the trade which the Americans were carrying on

with Gothenburg by passing to the north of the Shetland Isles. The

biting cold made this a source of extreme hardship, and the young

lieutenant, now first lieutenant, suffered severely. The illness of the

captain, and the incapacity of some of the officers, threw on him almost

the whole care of the ship, and this under circumstances that required

the skill and caution of the seaman to be ever on the alert.

[Illustration: VICE-ADMIRAL SIR CHARLES V. PENROSE, K.C.B.]

"I had, however," he wrote, "no time to nurse myself, though I had

pleurisy, besides my chilblains. For these latter I used to have warm

vinegar and sal ammoniac brought frequently on deck, and, to allay the

raging pain, dipped thin gloves into the mixture, and put them on

under thick worsted mittens. At one time rheumatism had so got hold of

me that I was not able to stand, but lay wrapped up in flannel on an

arm-chest, on the forepart of the quarter-deck, to give my orders.

"On one occasion, in a severe gale, the ship covered with frozen snow,

the main topmast was carried away; we were the whole day clearing the

wreck, and I was much fatigued but obliged to keep the first watch. We

were lying to under bare poles, and I had sent all the men under

shelter except one man at the helm and the mate of the watch; and I

had, with much difficulty, cleared a place for myself between two of

the guns, where, holding by a rope, I could move two or three short

paces backwards and forwards. About nine o'clock my messmates sent to

ask if I would have anything, and I thoughtlessly ordered a glass of

warm brandy and water, which they as thoughtlessly sent. I drank about

half, and gave the rest to the mate. In a minute I felt a glow of

warmth. Health, animation, freedom from fatigue, all came in their

climax of comfort. The next minute I fell sleeping on the deck.

Fortunately for me, my comrade was an old seaman, and he instantly

knew my case and dragged me down the ladder. I was put to bed; was

badly treated, as I was rubbed with spirits; but after excruciating

pain, I recovered. Had the officer of the watch been a young gentleman

without experience, I should never have told my story."

In 1781 the _Cleopatra_ was in the action off the Dogger Bank, but in

1783 was paid off. "At this time," wrote Mr. Penrose, "after having

been for eleven years conversant only with nautical affairs, I really

felt a great puzzle to know how a shore life could be endured. I had

entered into my profession with all my heart, and was at this time as

nearly a fish as a finless animal can become."

In 1787 he married Miss Trevenen, the elder sister of his brother's

wife, and by her had three daughters. He was not at sea again till 1790,

when he accompanied Captain Murray in the _Defence_, and was engaged in

the West Indies. At the latter end of 1796 he was again returned to the

_Cleopatra_, in which ship he had the melancholy satisfaction of

conveying to England his friend and admiral, who had been seized with a

paralytic affection from which he never recovered. The voyage home was

tempestuous; but at length, and nearly at its close, the wind had come

right aft, and the captain, who, though ill, was on deck, believed

himself to be making rapid way up the Channel. On a sudden a light,

which he knew to be the Scilly light, flashed across him, and he saw

that he was between Scilly and the Land's End. He instantly stood to the

south, but had hardly changed his course when he saw, close astern in

the dark night, a wave break under the bow of a large ship, steering

exactly in the direction which he had left. "I never felt so sick

before," he wrote. "I felt certain that in an hour's time she would be

on the rocks, the wind blowing almost a storm. I shouted through the

trumpet, I threw up lights, and fired guns, to give the alarm, but with

the inward conviction at the time that it was all in vain--and so it

was. This ship was never heard of again; and though fragments of a wreck

were found the next morning on the coast near the Land's End, nothing

was discovered to indicate what wreck it was."

The _Cleopatra_, on her return to England, was laid up for some months

at Portsmouth in dock, and shortly after her repairs were completed

the mutiny broke out at Spithead. Captain Penrose had the satisfaction

that his own crew, from the beginning to the end of this anxious

period, stood firm to their duty; a consequence undoubtedly of the

manner in which he invariably treated his men, with kindly

consideration and as reasonable beings.

He now went ashore, as his health was broken, and in May, 1798, went

to reside at Ethy, near Lostwithiel, where, so soon as his health was

re-established, he settled his family and looked out for fresh

employment. He was appointed early in 1799 to the _Sans Pareil_, of

eighty guns, and served in the West Indies till 1802, when he returned

to England, having suffered from sunstroke. In 1810 Captain Penrose

was appointed to the chief command at Gibraltar, with the rank of

commodore. He hoisted his flag on board the _San Juan_, and had to

direct the proceedings of a large flotilla which proved of great

utility in the defence of Cadiz and Tarifa, and in other operations

against the French under Marshal Soult. On December 4th, 1813, he was

promoted to be Admiral of the Blue, and shortly after to superintend

the naval service connected with Wellington's army, then advanced as

far as the Pyrenees. His orders were to proceed to the small port of

Passages, and there hoist his flag on board the _Porcupine_. Admiral

Penrose arrived at Passages on January 27th, 1814. The chief business

which now devolved on the naval service was to make the necessary

preparations for throwing a floating bridge across the Adour. This

bridge was to be composed of small coasting vessels, decked boats,

cables and planks. Above the bridge were to be anchored for its

protection as many gunboats as could be furnished, and, to guard both

these and the bridge from fire-ships or rafts, a boom was also to be

laid across the river further up the stream. These measures were

consequent on the investment of Bayonne. Great difficulties were to be

expected in passing the bar of the Adour, which, at the place where

the bridge was to be built, was four hundred yards wide, and where the

ebb-tide ran at the rate of eight miles an hour. The Admiral

determined to superintend the operation in person. On the afternoon of

the 22nd the _Porcupine_, conveying some transports and several large

coasting vessels laden with materials, left the harbour. But squally

weather and baffling winds came on during the night, and he was unable

to bring the flotilla to the bar before the morning of the 24th.

The passing of the bar, a most perilous service, has been described,

as seen from the shore, by Mr. Gleig in the _Subaltern_.

It was nearly high water, and the wind was fair; both officers and

soldiers gathered on the heights around, and the passage of each

vessel was eagerly watched, from the moment it was immersed in the

foaming breakers until it issued forth in the placid waters of the

river beyond. Some few vessels broached to and sank; but, on the

whole, the attempt fully succeeded, and with fewer casualties than

could have been expected. General Sir John Hope, who commanded on

shore, said, in a letter to the Admiral: "I have often seen how

gallantly the navy will devote themselves when serving with an army,

but I never before witnessed so bold and hazardous a co-operation, and

you have my most grateful thanks. I wrote to you in the course of last

night, to say how much we stood in need of boats, seamen, etc., but

when I saw the flotilla approach the wall of heavy surf, I regretted

all I had said."

So soon as the boats had thus entered the river, no time was lost in

running those which were intended to form the bridge up to their

stations, where the bridge was rapidly formed; and at dawn on the

following day, it was declared that infantry might cross it with

safety. On the 27th Bayonne was closely invested by Sir John Hope, and

Marshal Soult completely routed at Orthez by Wellington.

On March 22nd Admiral Penrose received instructions from the Duke to

occupy the Gironde. On the 24th he sailed in the _Porcupine_, taking

with him some brigs and a bomb vessel, and he was joined at the mouth

of the river by the _Egmont_, the _Andromache_, the _Challenger_, and

the _Belle Poule_. On the 27th he entered the river, the _Andromache_

taking the lead. The want of pilots and the haziness of the atmosphere

rendered the navigation difficult. The course taken was within easy

reach of the shot from the enemy's batteries, but these passed clear

of the ships, and every considerable danger was successfully overcome,

when a clear sun broke forth to animate the progress up the stream.

The abdication of Napoleon, 6th April, 1814, and the restoration of

the Bourbons followed, and Admiral Penrose left the Gironde on May

22nd, and returned to Passages to superintend the embarkation of the

troops and stores. The difficulties were great. The inadequate supply

of transports precluded the affording, even to the sick and wounded,

the accommodation of which they were in need; and the hatred borne by

the Spanish population to the British troops burst forth more and more

as their strength diminished. Although English blood and treasure had

been poured forth to assist Spain against the despotism of Napoleon

and in driving the French out of the country, not a spark of gratitude

was manifested by the Spaniards. It was thought on this occasion

highly probable that some outrage would be attempted in the rear of

the embarkation. Indeed, a plan had been formed by some Spaniards to

seize the military chest, and for security it had to be conveyed on

board the _Lyra_, and a volley of stones was hurled at the last boat

that left the shore. During Admiral Penrose's whole stay on this

ungrateful coast, he never received a visit or the smallest mark of

attention from a single Spaniard; and on his leaving Passages, not one

individual in the town was seen to look out of a window to watch the

sailing of the fleet.

The _Porcupine_ anchored in Plymouth Sound, September 6th, and the

Admiral struck his flag on the 12th, with but little expectation, now

that peace had revisited Europe, of being again actively employed. On

the 16th, however, he received a letter from Lord Melville, offering

him the command of the fleet in the Mediterranean, become vacant by

the recall of Admiral Hallowell. The offer was accepted, and on

October 3rd Admiral Penrose hoisted his flag at Plymouth, on board the

_Queen_, and left Plymouth on the 8th.

Whilst in the Mediterranean, he heard on March 12th, 1815, of the

escape of Napoleon from Elba, and of his having reached Prejus.

In January, 1816, Admiral Penrose was promoted to the rank of Knight

Commander of the Bath.

On March 1st he received letters from Lord Exmouth, who appointed a

meeting at Port Mahon to proceed against Algiers and Tunis to put an

end to the piracies that were carried on from these two places. The

squadron sailed for Algiers March 21st. Admiral Penrose wrote: "On

arriving at their destination, the ships anchored in two lines out of

gun-shot from the batteries, and by signal made all ready for battle;

but all went off quietly, and the slaves in whose behalf the

expedition was undertaken were ransomed on the terms which Lord

Exmouth proposed." From Algiers the squadron sailed for Tunis, and

here also the Bey submitted to the demand made on him, and thus ended

this impotent expedition. The Bey of Algiers was by no means so

overawed that he desisted from his nefarious practices, and a second

expedition was sent against him under Lord Exmouth in 1816.

By an unfortunate oversight, rather than intentional lack of courtesy,

no notice had been sent to the Admiral in command of the Mediterranean

that Lord Exmouth had been despatched to bombard Algiers and destroy

the piratical fleet. Admiral Penrose was at Malta, and hearing in a

roundabout way that Lord Exmouth, with a fleet fitted out at home, had

entered the Mediterranean and was on his way to Algiers, he deemed it

advisable to leave Malta and visit this fleet. He did not arrive off

Algiers till the 29th August. The action had been on the 27th, and the

first objects seen on entering the bay were the still smoking wrecks

of the Algerine navy, and then the fleet of Lord Exmouth engaged in

repairing the injuries which it had sustained.

Admiral Penrose was cut to the quick by the slight put upon him, and

he wrote to remonstrate with the Admiralty, but received in reply only

a rebuke for expressing his indignation in a tone that the Admiralty

did not relish.

There is no need to attend Admiral Penrose in his cruises and visits

to the Ionian Islands, but his diary may be quoted relative to an

expedition made early in 1818, in company with Sir Thomas Maitland, to

visit Ali Pasha.

The history of this second Nero, with whom to our disgrace we entered

into alliance, and supplied with cannon and muskets, may be given in

brief.

Ali, surnamed Arslan, the Lion, was an Albanian born about the year

1741. His father, driven from his paternal mansion, placed himself at

the head of some bandits, surrounded the house in which were his

brothers, and burnt them in it alive. The mother of Ali, daughter of a

bey, was of a vindictive and ferocious character, and on the death of

her husband had the formation of the character of Ali in her hands,

and she inspired him with remorselessness, ambition, and subtlety. Ali

assisted the Sultan in the war with Russia, and was rewarded by being

created a pasha of two tails and governor of Tricala, in Thessaly.

Soon by means of intrigue and crime he obtained the pashalics of

Janina and Arta; then he was granted the government of Acharnania,

and, finding himself strong enough to do what he liked, he attacked

neighbouring provinces, and banished or put to death in them all the

Mussulman and Christian inhabitants whose goods he coveted, or who had

given him umbrage. Then he attacked the Christian Suliotes and

massacred them. Previsa and some other Christian towns on the coast

had belonged to the republic of Venice. In 1797 the Queen of the

Adriatic, having been overthrown by Bonaparte, Ali took the

opportunity, at the feast of Easter, to descend on them when all the

inhabitants were keeping holiday, and massacre over six thousand and

plunder the houses. The English Government entered into negotiations

with him, gave him a park of artillery and six hundred gunshots. Thus

furnished he attacked Berat, the pasha of which was the father of his

two sons' wives. He took the place and threw the pasha into a

subterranean dungeon under his palace at Janina.

He seized on the Albanian towns of Argyro-Kastro and Kardihi. The

inhabitants of the latter surrendered without striking a blow; but as

they had at some former time offended his mother, he put all the males

to the sword, and handed over the women to his sister, who, after

having delivered them up to the most horrible outrages, had them

stripped stark naked and driven into the forests, where nearly all

perished of cold and hunger. When Napoleon fell, Ali got the English

to cede to him the town of Parga. It was concerning this cession that

the English Government thought it no shame to send Sir Thomas Maitland

to Ali to negotiate with him at Previsa. "The General embarked with

the ladies (Lady Ponsonby, Lady Lauderdale and her daughters) in the

_Glasgow_, and with the two ships we proceeded to the anchorage of

Prevesa. On the evening of our arrival I despatched the second

lieutenant to find at what time on the following day Ali would receive

us. His report of the chief himself was wittily characteristic: 'He is

exactly like a sugar hogshead, dressed in scarlet and gold.'

"A long and heavy pull we had the next day in the _Glasgow's_ fine

barge against a very cold wind, but at last we reached the land. The

palace of the ferocious chief whom we had come to visit was built of

wood, and on the water's edge, so that the boats landed at one of the

doors, contrived, no doubt, to enable the owner to escape in that

direction if requisite. It was an immense building, badly finished,

not painted, and badly furnished, but calculated to lodge about three

thousand persons. The chief, with all his heads of departments, and

his son and grandson, received us in a small room, one end of which

was occupied by a comfortable and well-cushioned divan. Here we were

soon served with coffee in beautiful china and gold cups and saucers,

and magnificent pipes.

"Sir Thomas introduced me as the naval commander-in-chief. Before we

returned to our ships an excellent collation was provided on a long

table; but the climate was severe in this wild mansion, and after

trying many bottles of execrable light wines, great was my joy in

finding a flask of excellent brandy.

"I had several good opportunities of watching the countenance of the

extraordinary man who was now our host, and I never could observe the

smallest indication without of what was passing in his breast. Simple

benevolence was apparently beaming from the whole expression of this

human butcher. At one time particularly, when I know for a certainty

that he was both angry and mortified at some turn in the investigations,

I sat opposite him at only a yard's distance, and could not perceive the

smallest outward token of the storm within. He once questioned me about

my family, whether I was married, etc.; and when I told him I had three

daughters, 'What, no sons? Why have you not them?' and burst forth into

one of his frightful haugh-haugh laughs, which were quite disgusting,

and resembled the grunt of a wild beast.

"As a high honour, on the day on which the ladies were with us, he sat

at the head of the table at dinner. The dinner was much more profuse

than elegant; and one of Ali's first operations was to cut off the

fore-quarter of a roasted lamb, and with his hand tear out the flesh

between the shoulder and the breast, which he devoured with great

glee. Lady Lauderdale sat on his right hand, and I was next her. Ali,

understanding that she chose some turkey, had one brought before him,

and helped her with a fore-quarter of an immense bird, which, of

course, puzzled her greatly. Whereupon, bowing for permission from our

host, I cut off a proper portion from the wing, and helped myself to

the remainder. When Ali saw what a small portion I had allotted to the

lady, he grunted out his peculiar laugh, but luckily did not persist

in the cramming system.

"Even at this more distinguished feast good wines were not the order

of the day, and I had again recourse to the brandy bottle. I know not

what Ali had in a particular bottle placed near himself, as he

indulged no one but Sir Thomas Maitland with a taste of it, but I do

not recollect hearing it praised. The chief took a good portion of

this bottle to himself, heedless of the Koran and the prophet.

"Immediately after dinner dancing boys were introduced, and performed

a great number of evolutions, showing the most extraordinary

flexibility in every part of the body. These poor creatures must have

been Nazarites from their birth, as their hair was long enough to

reach to the floor as they stood, and great part of their skill was

displayed in throwing about these profuse locks with their arms. I

think these boys must have been of Indian extraction.

"The ladies having heard that Ali had bought a diamond of great value

from poor Gustavus, the ex-King of Sweden, expressed a strong desire to

see it. He assented graciously, and ordered a plate to be brought to

him. He then searched in the folds of his own fat neck, and at last

untied a string to which was affixed a little bag of either oil-cloth or

bladder. Out of this he took a coarse paper parcel, and having opened

the envelope, and three or four interior papers, he, with a pretended

air of indifference, threw out on the plate a considerable number of

diamonds, which some of our party valued at £30,000. Among these was the

diamond of the ex-King, which had been valued at £12,000; but owing

partly to his necessities, and, perhaps, partly also to a change in

value, Ali purchased it, I think, for £7000 or £8000.

"The strangest part of this story was that such a man could display

such a treasure, showing that it was usually concealed about his

person, before a considerable number of his own subjects as well as

strangers. There seemed to be the freest possible ingress and egress

to and from the hall in which we sat; and beside his officers of

state, there were many menials in the hall at the time. In what, then,

consisted the confidence which he must have felt? It could not have

been derived from conscious virtue, or security of attachment; and,

except at the gate which led from the great square of the palace

towards the town, I never saw anything like guard or sentinel.

"Besides the dish of diamonds, Ali kept by his side a brace of pistols

richly set with valuable jewels, a present from Napoleon; and in his

girdle he always wore a dagger, the hilt of which must have been worth

£2000 or £3000; one stone especially being very large. Probably the

reign of terror might operate to some degree as a safeguard; but the

appearance of the people immediately about Ali's person indicated much

more confidence than fear.

"Our ladies had been introduced into the harem, and to the favourite

Fatima, who, as we were told, was the best _scratcher_ Ali ever had.

One of his chief luxuries was to have his immense, coarse carcase

scratched for a considerable time daily by his female friends."

The end of this man, Ali Pasha, may be briefly told. He had become

independent, disregarding the authority of the Sultan, and a menace to

the State. Accordingly an army was despatched to Janina, and a fleet

to make a descent on the coasts of Epirus. Ali, in spite of his great

age, exhibited great energy, and prepared to resist, but his fatal

avarice stood in his way. With his enormous treasures he could have

secured the fidelity of his troops, but he could not make up his mind

to deal liberally with his defenders, and most deserted. His own sons

and grandsons, with one exception, passed over into the enemy's camp.

He set the town of Janina on fire, and retired himself into the

fortress, which was defended by Italian and French artillerymen, and

which bristled with cannon. This was in August, 1820. At the beginning

of 1821 the Sultan gave the command of his forces to Khorchid Pasha,

and the siege was begun. Ali had previously sunk one portion of his

treasure in the lake in spots where it could be recovered by himself

when the storm blew over; the rest was in his cellar heaped up over

barrels of gunpowder, and a faithful attendant stood ever by with a

lighted fuse in his hand. Khorchid was particularly desirous of

securing the treasure. He proposed an interview in an island of the

lake. After some hesitation Ali, who had now but fifty men in his

garrison, consented. The interview took place on the 5th February,

1822; Khorchid had taken the precaution to surround the island with

soldiers, but concealed. When they met, the officer of the Sultan

produced a firman granting complete forgiveness to Ali for all his

crimes and defiance, on condition that he surrendered some of his

treasures. Ali then drew off his ring, handed it to the general, and

said, "Show that to my slave, and he will extinguish the fuse."

Ali was detained in the palace on the isle till messengers had been

sent to the fortress, and the slave, obedient to the token, had put

out the light, whereupon he was at once stabbed. When Khorchid knew

that the treasure was secure, he summoned the soldiery, and they fired

into the kiosk from all sides and through the floor, till Ali was

struck mortally.

The moral infamies of this man are not to be described.

When the negotiations with Ali Pasha were ended, the Lord High

Commissioner and the ladies returned to Corfu, and Sir Charles Penrose

went back to his fleet.

He returned to England in 1819, being succeeded in his command by

Admiral Freemantle.

He again made Ethy his home, taking occasional flights to London to

obtain some other naval appointment, which would not compel a

severance from his family, but none was available, and, finally, as

his wife's health and his own began to fail, he was content to remain

in his quiet Cornish home. There he died January 1st, 1830, at the age

of seventy; and Lady Penrose died in 1832.

The Life of Vice-Admiral Sir C. V. Penrose, K.C.B., together with that

of Captain James Trevenen, was written by their nephew, the Rev. John

Penrose, and published by John Murray, 1850, with portrait.

SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS, BART.

Kit Hawkins, as he was familiarly termed in Cornwall, played a

considerable part at the close of the eighteenth century, and before

the passing of the Reform Bill, as a borough-monger. There was a

contemporary with a similar reputation, Manasseh Lopes, a Jew diamond

merchant from Jamaica, and both purchased their baronetcies by

subservience to the Government in finding places for their nominees in

the pocket boroughs they had got into their hands. When Manasseh Lopes

drove into Fowey with his candidates, the town band stalked before the

carriage playing "The Rogues' March"; when Kit Hawkins arrived in

Grampound or S. Ives with a carriage and four, and his candidates with

him, the band played "See the Conquering Hero Comes"--but he conquered

not with weapons of steel, but with golden guineas, handed over to him

by the candidates, a share of which passed to the electors.

The Cornish Hawkins family pretended to derive from a very distinguished

Roman Catholic stock in Kent, whose place, Nash, was plundered in 1715

by the rabble, on account of the Jacobite proclivities of the Hawkins

family and the excitement caused by the rebellion in Scotland of the

Earl of Mar. On this occasion all the family plate, portraits, and deeds

were carried off; some were burnt, some were recovered.

But not a shadow of evidence is forthcoming to show that there was any

descent of the Hawkins family in Cornwall from that in Kent. The

story given out was that on account of the religious persecution in

the time of Queen Mary, two of the Kent Hawkinses left the paternal

nest: one settled in Somersetshire and the other in Cornwall, where

each became the founder of a family. It was forgotten, when this

fiction was given to the world, that the Hawkins stock in Kent was

Roman Catholic, and not at all likely to be troubled by Queen Mary.

The first Cornish Hawkins of whom anything is known is Thomas of

Mevagissey, who married a certain Audrey, her surname unknown, by whom

he had two sons, John and Thomas, and three daughters.

John Hawkins, of S. Erth, the eldest, married Loveday, daughter of

George Tremhayle, by whom--who was living in 1676--he had four

surviving sons and three daughters, viz. Thomas; George, Vicar of

Sithney; Reginald, D.D., Master of Pembroke College, Cambridge; and

Francis. Thomas, the eldest, of Trewinnard in S. Erth, married

Florence, daughter of James Praed, of Trevethow, near Hayle, by whom

he had a daughter, Florence, the wife of John Williams, merchant, of

Helston; and as his second wife he had Anne, daughter of Christopher

Bellot, of Bodmin, by whom he had six daughters and four sons, of

which latter, John, Thomas, and Renatus died young, and only

Christopher lived. Thomas Hawkins, the father, died in 1716.

Christopher Hawkins, of Trewinnard, only surviving son, married Mary,

daughter of Philip Hawkins, of Penzance, a supposed descendant of the

Hawkinses of Devonshire, by whom he had a daughter, Jane, married to

Sir Richard Vyvyan, of Trelowaren, Bart., and a son, Thomas Hawkins,

of Trewithen, M.P. for Grampound, who married Anne, daughter of James

Heywood, of London, by whom he had four sons--Philip, who d.s.p.;

Christopher; Thomas, who d.s.p.; John, of Bignor, Sussex, who married

the daughter of Humphrey Sibthorpe, M.P. for Lincoln--and a daughter,

who married Charles Trelawny, son of General Trelawny. Thomas Hawkins

died on December 1st, 1770, and was succeeded by his second son,

Christopher Hawkins, of Trewithen and Trewinnard, born at Trewithen

May, 1758.[31] The seat Trewithen in Probus descended to his father

from his grandmother's brother, Philip Hawkins, M.P. for the pocket

borough of Grampound.

Christopher Hawkins came in for a good deal of land, derived through

the marriage of the ancestors of Philip Hawkins, of Trewithen, with

the heiresses of Scobell and Tredenham and that of his own

great-grandfather to the co-heiress of Bellot of Bochym.

Christopher never married, and was of a frugal mind, buying land in

all directions, and securing the pocket boroughs, where possible, as

excellent investments. It was said of Trewithen--

A large park without deer,

A large cellar without beer,

A large house without cheer,

Sir Christopher Hawkins lives here.

But this was not fair, for there was certainly hospitality shown at

Trewithen. Polwhele says: "Not a week before his death, I passed a

delightful day with the hospitable baronet. To draw around him the few

literary characters of his neighbourhood was his peculiar pleasure; and

at Trewithen the clergy in particular had always a hearty welcome."

He purchased the manor of S. Ives in or about 1807, the fair at

Mitchell, in Enoder, commanding the election to that borough, and the

four fairs at Grampound giving him control there also over elections.

A good many of the Cornish boroughs had been so constituted in the

reign of Edward VI by the Protector Somerset, that he might get his

own creatures into Parliament. Such were Camelford, Mitchell, Newport,

Saltash, West Looe, Bossiney, Grampound, and Penryn. Queen Mary raised

S. Ives into a borough in 1550, and Elizabeth created six more to

serve her own political purposes, S. Germans, S. Mawes, Tregony, East

Looe, Fowey, and Callington.

Mitchell is a mere hamlet, and in 1660 the franchise was solemnly

transferred from the inhabitants at large to nominees of the lord of the

manor. In 1689 it was determined that the right of election lay in the

lords of the borough, who were liable to be chosen portreeve thereof,

and the householders of the same not receiving alms. But the borough in

the latter years of its existence became a battleground of many

combatants, and as the right of voting was, until 1701, left in great

ambiguity by successive election committees, the result of the contest

could never be predicted. In 1701, the right of election for this

distracted borough was again changed. This time it was vested in the

portreeve and lord of the manor and the inhabitants paying scot and lot.

In 1784, Hawkins and Howell were elected members, and sat in Parliament

for Mitchell for twelve years, till 1796, and Sir Christopher became by

purchase the sole owner of the borough; and after Howell had ceased to

represent Mitchell, he continued as its representative to 1806, when he

surrendered his seat to Arthur Wellesley, subsequently Duke of

Wellington. The electors by this time had been reduced to five. In the

eleven years, 1807-18, there were nine elections at Mitchell, not owing

to feuds, but retirement of members. No event of importance occurred

after 1818 to 1832, except the extraordinary and significant revelation

that at the contested election of 1831, when Hawkins (Sir Christopher's

nephew) got two votes, Kenyon five, and Best three. Five voters to

return two members. In 1833 those five electors found their borough

disfranchised, a fate it richly deserved.

Penryn had been raised into the position of a borough returning two

members of Parliament, in 1553.

Mr. Courtney says of 1774: "About this period the borough of Penryn

began to be notorious through the county for the readiness of its

voters to barter their rights for pecuniary considerations. The

franchise was on such an extended basis that almost every householder,

though many of these were labourers, indigent and ignorant, was an

elector." In 1807 there were, however, but 140; in 1819 they had risen

to 328. Each got a "breakfast" and £24 for his vote.

In 1780, Sir Francis Bassett gave a feast to the whole borough; he

continued his patronage till 1807, as Lord de Dunstanville. In 1802

Swann and Milford contested a vacant seat in the borough, and

Dunstanville to secure the second seat had to resort to putting

faggot-voters on the poor-rates, the night before the election.

Petition being made against the election, it ended in a compromise,

and Swann received £10,000 besides expenses. Lord de Dunstanville,

disgusted at the expense and the weakening of his influence, abandoned

the borough. Swann thereupon gave a "breakfast" to his supporters; a

"breakfast" was synonymous with a bribe of £24. Penryn was concerned

at the retirement of its lordly patron, and founded a club in 1805 for

electors, such as would most conduce to the pecuniary welfare of the

voters. When the election of 1806 was imminent and the former patron

had withdrawn, a deputation of the members was sent to Trewithen to

that notorious election-monger, Sir Kit, to tender to him the goodwill

of the constituency. "The details of the negotiations conducted at

this interview," says Mr. Courtney, "became the subject of subsequent

investigation; but it was admitted that the voters stopped there for

four hours and dined at the baronet's table, which on this occasion,

no doubt, was more freely supplied than according to local gossip was

the custom on ordinary days. The deputation informed Sir Christopher

that Mr. Swann--the Black Swan as he was called by his enemies--who

had been nursing the borough since 1802, must obtain one of the seats,

but that the other was at his disposal. These two worthy politicians,

Hawkins and Swann, thereupon coalesced, drink and food were freely

supplied; two voters, one for each candidate, went round and gave each

elector a one-pound note to drink their health with, and the result

was that on the 1st November, 1806, the poll showed a large majority

for Swann and Hawkins over Mr. Trevanion and his colleague William

Wingfield." A petition followed, and the evidence was of such a

compromising character that Mr. Serjeant Lens abandoned the case on

behalf of Hawkins. The evidence produced was that the deputation of

voters, headed by a clergyman, which had gone to Trewithen to offer

him the borough, had associated with Sir Kit to sell their votes and

interest for twenty-four guineas apiece paid to themselves, and for

ten guineas to be handed to each of the overseers, and that the offer

was duly accepted. An address to the King for the prosecution of Sir

Christopher Hawkins and eighteen members of the committee was carried

to the House of Commons. The trial took place at Bodmin on the 19th

August, 1808, when Cobbett attended in person to watch the trial and

report proceedings in his _Political Register_. The questions in

dispute centred on the terms of the agreement; the chief witness swore

that the documents signed by Hawkins stipulated that twenty-four

guineas should be given to each of the leaders of the party, ten

guineas apiece to the two overseers and twenty shillings to each of

the voters. But this evidence was unsupported, no other of the

committee could be induced or intimidated into admitting that this had

been the agreement; no one in Penryn desired to kill the goose that

laid the golden eggs, and the defendant was acquitted, "to dabble in

borough-mongering for the rest of his life."

At the election of 1807, Sir Christopher had no place in Parliament,

but Swann sat again for Penryn.

In 1812 Hawkins wooed the borough in vain, in opposition to Philip

Gell. The Black Swan was the other member elected, but great

indignation was roused against him when it was found that he had left

his bills unpaid for treating and breakfasting his adherents.

Then a committee approached Sir Manasseh Lopes, but he declined to buy

the votes at the price of £2000.

But Swann managed to recover favour and increase the number of voters

in his constituency by 200 votes, and to form a company to provide

granite from the vicinity for Waterloo Bridge over the Thames, so

providing work for the voters of Penryn, and Hawkins and Swann were

returned. The usual petition followed, and evidence of bribery came

out. One voter swore that he had received £5, and his wife another £5;

another £7; and many others various sums from ten shillings to ten

pounds. Swann was declared guilty and imprisoned 1819-20.

In the election of 1827 it was admitted that £1850 had been distributed

among the electors. Seventy votes had been sold at £10 apiece.

Grampound had had its elections controlled by Lord Eliot. In the

election of 1796 the fifty electors received for their votes £3000, and

the patron, Eliot, pocketed £6000 himself. The patronage was then sold

to Sir Kit Hawkins, to whom a friend wrote in 1796: "Fame speaks loudly

of your doings. The borough, by her own account, is all your own, and

such is certainly preferable to Tregony. The small number of voters in

one, and the vast number in the other, pulls down the balance in favour

of Grampound, and from the continuance of Eliot we may infer that a

possession once obtained may last forty or fifty years."

But after the election of 1806 the recognized, nay undisputed patron,

Sir Christopher, keeping voters in his pay, and holding the nomination

to two seats, found that his power was weakened. His candidate, the

Nabob Fawcett, did not pay as he had promised. The electors

accordingly determined to transfer their favours to some other great

man, and eventually elected Andrew C. Johnstone, Governor of Dominica,

by twenty-seven over the Hawkins candidate, who polled only thirteen.

"Up to this time," says the historian, "a decent veil of reserve had

been thrown over the delinquencies of the Grampound electors; now it

was cast aside, and their deformities were disclosed to the view of

the whole political world. Enquiry followed enquiry, and prosecution

prosecution." The borough engaged the attention of members of

Parliament and Press correspondents. Great Cobbett went to Bodmin in

1808 to see the trial of Sir Kit, the Mayor, Recorder, and four

capital Burgesses. This petition unseated the anti-Hawkins candidate,

and a new writ was issued. It was now arranged that Cochrane, patron

of the anti-Kittite, should give £5000 for one, or £8400 for the two

seats, to be distributed, and that each of the elected should pay £12

10s. to the wives of the several electors. Each voter eventually did

get about £80. The anti-Kittites polled twenty-seven, and Mr. Hawkins'

nominee fourteen. What does the Mayor do? Strike off sufficient votes

from the anti-Kittite, so as to give the local baronet a majority of

one, and returned his nominees as duly elected. A second petition

restored Cochrane.

Sir Kit, discerning that his influence over the electors at Grampound

was passing away, determined to increase the number of voters. The

electors had consisted of an indefinite number of freemen elected at

Easter and Michaelmas by the eligers. This election was artfully

deferred till good Kittites could be secured to fill the places desired.

In 1812 Cochrane was still in possession, but he made way for

Johnston, associating Teed with him. This man gave each elector £100

in promissory notes. Johnston was, however, expelled the House in 1814

for frauds on the Stock Exchange. Thereupon in came Sir Christopher

Hawkins again. He was again brought before the notice of the House in

1818, when there appeared six candidates. Innes and Robertson were

elected by thirty-six votes: the rest (eleven) went to Teed. After

that, on Teed's petition, the whole secret of the nefarious system

came to light. The voters, it appeared, had applied to Sir Kit; but

that worthy baronet was tired of their solicitations, and refused to

advance a penny. So they turned to the Jew Manasseh Lopes, who gave

£2000 to be distributed among forty electors. But when the money

arrived, the Mayor intercepted £300 for himself, another took £140, so

that the rank and file got only £35 apiece instead of the expected

£50; £8000 was paid privily by a sitting member. Again a petition, and

Manasseh Lopes was convicted of bribery in both Devon and Cornwall,

was fined £10,000, and incarcerated at Exeter for two years.

Lord John Russell was prepared to extirpate bribery, and in particular

to disfranchise Grampound; the House of Commons agreed without a

dissentient voice, but the death of George III hindered proceedings,

and the last two members were returned.

S. Ives had been erected into a borough by Philip and Mary in 1558.

Here, after 1689, the Praeds, Whigs, were all-powerful. In 1751, after

long being stewards of the Earls of Buckinghamshire, the Stephens family

began to assert itself. Thenceforth during the long reign of George III

a severe contest for influence over the elections was waged between the

two families. In 1774 a Praed got ninety-five votes, a Drummond

ninety-eight, and Stephens was left out in the cold with seventy-one.

But the usual petition showed Praed's corruption too manifestly. Money

had been lent to the voters, with the tacit understanding that in the

event of election it was not to be asked for, and forty persons, sure

voters for Stephens, had been omitted from the rates. In 1806 Sir Kit

Hawkins, gained a share in representation; his candidate, Horner. But

Stephens got 135 votes and Horner 128; the other candidate opposing him

was left far in the rear, with only five votes. But Horner was out again

at the next election. In 1820 Sir Christopher had the appointment to

both seats entirely in his own hands.

Tregony had been made into a borough under Queen Elizabeth in 1562.

Before 1832 it was described as "destitute of trade, wealth, and

common activity."

Writing in 1877, the last Cornish historian remarks that the condition

of Tregony had passed from bad to worse. Many of its houses were then

in ruins, and the scene of desolation was spreading. In early times

Tregony had been a seaport on a tidal creek, but that was silted up,

and no boat could now reach it, so that its commercial importance was

wholly gone.

During the eighteenth century the representatives of Tregony were men

of little importance, small placemen unconnected with Cornwall. In the

long array of aliens and Court satellites, the name of one Cornish

gentleman stands out in bright relief; 1747-67, for twenty years (a

long period) Mr. Trevanion represented it. The election of 1774

excited much notice. Lord North advised a note to be written to Lord

Falmouth: "His Lordship must be told in as polite terms as possible,

that I hope he will permit me to recommend to three of his six seats

in Cornwall. The terms he expects are £2000 a seat, to which I am

ready to agree." Later on, he says that his candidate Pownall must get

in for Lostwithiel, and Conway represent Tregony, and he added: "My

noble friend (Falmouth) is rather shabby, desiring guineas instead of

pounds," but signified his will to pay rather than drop the bargain.

Again: "Gascoyne shall have the refusal of Tregony for £1000," and the

Minister complained that he saw no way of bringing him in at a cheaper

rate than any other servant of the Crown.

In 1776 the Boscawen influence was sold to Sir Kit Hawkins, but he did

not retain it for long, for he disposed of it to a Nabob, Barwell, and

the two continued on friendly terms. When the living of Cuby fell

vacant--Cuby is the parish church of Tregony--Sir Kit asked Barwell, who

now had the presentation, to give it to a friend of his, alleging that

"he had great interest" and assuring Barwell that his clerical friend

would reside in the place, and by his great activity in the borough

prevent, if possible, any opposition arising to Mr. Barwell. But at the

very next election Sir Kit ran and returned two members against Barwell.

In the contest of 1784, Lord Kenyon, a lawyer, obtained the seat by

purchase, polling 90, while his two opponents got 69 each.

In 1806 an O'Callinghan and a Yorkshire Whig, through Darlington's

interest polled against Barwell's interest 102 against 86. At this

election the following trick was played. A Tregony tailor and

publican, called Middlecoat, offered to seat Sir Jonathan Miles for

4000 guineas. At the poll the returning officer, who was biased or had

been tampered with, struck off many good votes from Miles, and gave

bad ones to others. Sir Jonathan petitioned and, for the expenses of

the petition, sent Middlecoat a large sum of money, and he prevented

the witnesses from appearing, and the sitting members were accordingly

pronounced to be duly elected. Middlecoat had secured £2500 from the

sitting nominees (Barwellians) to keep back the witnesses, as well as

£4200 from Sir Jonathan to bring them forward.

In 1812 O'Callinghan was unseated, and petitioned, showing that £5000

had been distributed among the voters; nevertheless the sitting

members were received. Holmes, one of them, said--to show what was the

degraded condition of the borough--that out of 127 votes in his

favour, 98 had been evicted into the street the day after the

election, some having been called on to pay their rents, but were

unable to do so at the moment, and others, whose annual rents were

only £8, had been mulcted in costs to the extent of £98.

Middlecoat, and four others of like spirit, went to London in 1818 to

search for candidates for Tregony and Grampound, offering the former

for £6000 and the latter for £7000. A banker and a general came down

before the election, but found that the voters would make no promise

unless the money were paid down. So they had to return to London

"proclaiming their disappointment at every turn, and cursing the

scoundrels who would not trust them."

Christopher Hawkins was returned for Mitchell in 1784, re-elected in

1790 and 1796. In June, 1799, he vacated his seat by accepting the

Stewardship of the Chiltern Hundreds. In August, 1800, he was elected

for Grampound, again in 1802 and 1806. In 1818 he was returned for

Penryn, and in June, 1821, for S. Ives. He was created baronet on July

28th, 1791. He was Recorder of Grampound and S. Ives and, at the time

when he relinquished his seat finally, he was the father of the House

of Commons.

Sir Christopher encouraged the famous engineer and inventor Richard

Trevithick, and in the life of that worthy, by Francis Trevithick, are

given some letters that passed between them; but Mr. F. Trevithick

persistently calls Sir Christopher Sir Charles. Sir Kit was the first

man to adopt a steam thrashing-machine in 1812, an invention of

Trevithick; it was used for the first time at Trewithen in February in

that year. A committee of experts was called in to witness its

operations and report on them, and this is their report, dated

February 12th, 1812:--

"Having been requested to witness and report on the effect of steam

applied to work a mill for thrashing corn at Trewithen, we hereby

testify that a fire was lighted under the boiler of the engine five

minutes after eight o'clock, and at twenty-five minutes after nine

o'clock the thrashing mill began to work, in which time one bushel of

coal was consumed. That from the time the mill began to work to two

minutes after two o'clock, being four hours and three-quarters, fifteen

hundred sheaves of barley were thrashed clean, and one bushel of coal

more was consumed. We think there was sufficient steam remaining in the

boiler to have thrashed from fifty to one hundred sheaves more barley,

and the water in the boiler was by no means exhausted. We had the

satisfaction to observe that common labourers regulated the thrashing

mill, and in a moment of time made it go faster, slower, or entirely

cease working. We approve of the steadiness and the velocity with which

the machine worked, and in every respect we prefer the power of steam,

as here applied, to that of horse.

MATTHEW ROBERTS, Lansellyn.

THOS. NANKEVILL, Golden.

MATTHEW DOBLE, Barthlever."

Sir Christopher entered into negotiation with Trevithick about

constructing a breakwater to the harbour at S. Ives, at Pendinas Point.

It was begun, but never completed, owing to the death of the baronet.

But a good thing he did achieve, though done for a political purpose, by

indirect bribery, was the establishment of a free school at S. Ives, in

Shute Street; the charge of admission was one penny per week, and in it

navigation was taught. It was opened on April 11th, 1822.

In the diary of Captain John Tregerthen Short of the events taking

place at S. Ives between 1817 and 1838 we have: "1828, June 10th. At

10 a.m. Sir Christopher Hawkins, Bart., and Wellesley Long Pole, Esq.,

the former supporting the cause of the Right Hon. Sir Charles

Arbuthnot, attended at the Town Hall, where Wellesley Long Pole, Esq.,

resigned the contest, and Sir Charles Arbuthnot was elected without

opposition. Immediately afterwards Mr. Wellesley Pole made an active

and successful canvass of the town for another election, and left S.

Ives at 10 p.m., having given each voter 5s., and Sir Christopher

Hawkins gave all his friends 5s."

"July 21st.--All Mr. Wellesley's voters had a public dinner; each

received one guinea to defray the expense of the dinner, which came to

7s. 3d. per man." Oh, what a falling off is here! Only 5s. each voter,

whereas elsewhere, at Grampound, Tregony, Penryn, and Mitchell, a free

and independent elector would turn up his nose at £10. But Captain

Short does not inform us what the _douceurs_ had been that were paid

previous to the election.

Sir Christopher Hawkins died of erysipelas at Trewithen on April 6th,

1829.

Captain Short enters on that day:--

"Sir Christopher Hawkins, Bart., departed this life this morning in

the seventy-first year of his age. His death will be greatly felt and

deplored by hundreds. His charitable contributions amongst the

indigent will be found greatly wanting. A more generous and benevolent

landlord could not be found. He was never known to distrain for rent.

He established a Free School in S. Ives for the education of the poor,

and gave the sum of £100 towards enlarging the Wesleyan Methodist

Chapel in this town."

The _Gentleman's Magazine_ for 1830 says that Sir Kit Hawkins's

property at S. Ives was sold then, "which secures the purchaser a seat

in Parliament, for the borough was lately sold by auction in London

for the sum of £55,000. It is reported that the purchaser is the

Marquess of Cleveland."

A bad bargain, for three years after the Reform Bill was passed, and

S. Ives ceased to be a pocket borough.

FOOTNOTE:

[31] Baptized at Probus 29th May, 1758.

ANNE JEFFERIES

Moses Pitt, a publisher in London, a native of S. Teath, in 1696

published the following letter to the Bishop of Gloucester. There are

two editions of it, with slight and insignificant variations both in

the preliminary address and in the account of Anne Jefferies.

The preamble we omit.

"Anne Jefferies (for that was her maiden name), of whom the following

strange things are related, was born in the parish of S. Teath, in the

county of Cornwall, in December, 1626, and she is still living in

1696, being in the seventieth year of her age. She is married to one

William Warren, formerly hind to the late eminent physician Dr.

Richard Lewes, deceased, and now lives as a hind to Sir Andrew

Slanning, of Devon, Bart.

"In the year 1691 I wrote into Cornwall to my sister Mary Martyn's son,

attorney, to go to the said Anne and discourse her, as from me, about

the most strange passages of her life. He answers my letter September

13th, 1691, and saith: 'I have been with Anne Jefferies, and she can

give me no particular account of her condition, it being so long since.

My grandmother and mother say that she was in Bodmin jail three months,

and lived six months without meat; and during her continuance in that

condition several eminent cures were performed by her; the particulars

no one can now state. My mother saw the fairies once, and heard one say

that they should give some meat to the child, that she might return unto

her parents, which is the fullest relation can now be given.' But I, not

being satisfied with the answer, did in the year 1693 write into

Cornwall and my sister's husband, Mr. Humphry Martyn, and desired him to

go to Anne Jefferies to see if he could persuade her to give me what

account she could remember of the many and strange passages of her life.

He answered by letter, January 31st, 1693, and saith: 'As for Anne

Jefferies, I have been with her the greatest part of one day, and did

read to her all that you wrote to me; but she would not own anything of

it as concerning the fairies, neither of the cures she then did. I

endeavoured to persuade her she might receive some benefit by it. She

answered that if her own father were now alive she would not discover to

him those things which did happen to her. I asked her the reason why she

would not do it; she replied that if she should discover it to you, that

you would make either books or ballads of it; and she said that she

would not have her name spread about the country in books or ballads, or

such things, if she might have £500 for doing it; for she said she had

been questioned before justices, and at the sessions, and in prison, and

also before the judges at the assizes, and she doth believe that if she

should discover such things now she would be questioned again for it. As

for the ancient inhabitants of S. Teath Church-town, there are none of

them now alive but Thomas Christopher, a blind man. (NOTE: This Thomas

Christopher was then a servant in my father's house, when these things

happened, and he remembers many of the passages you write of her.) And

as for my wife, she then being so little did not mind it, but heard her

father and mother relate most of the passages you wrote of her.'

"This is all I can, at present, possibly get from her, and therefore I

now go on with my relation of the wonderful cures and other strange

things she did, or happened to her, which is the substance of what I

wrote to my brother and that he read to her.

"It is the custom in our county of Cornwall for the most substantial

people of each parish to take apprentices the poor children, and to

breed them up till they attain to twenty-one years of age, and for

their services to give them meat, drink, and clothes. This Anne

Jefferies, being a poor man's child of the parish, by Providence fell

into our family, where she lived many years. Being a girl of a bold,

daring spirit, she would venture at those difficulties and dangers

that no boy would attempt.

"In the year 1645 (she being nineteen years old), she being one day

knitting in an arbour in our garden, there came over the hedge to her,

as she affirmed, six persons of small stature, all clothed in green,

which she called fairies. Upon which she was so frightened that she fell

into a kind of convulsive fit. But when we found her in this condition,

we brought her into the house and put her to bed, and took great care of

her. As soon as she recovered out of her fit she cried out, 'They are

just gone out of the window! Do you not see them?' And thus in the

height of her sickness she would often cry out, and that with eagerness,

which expressions were attributed to her distemper, supposing her

light-headed. During the extremity of her sickness my father's mother

died, which was in April, 1646; he durst not acquaint our maid Anne of

it for fear it might have increased her distemper, she being at that

time so very sick that she could not go, nor so much as stand on her

feet; and also the extremity of her sickness, and the long continuance

of her distemper had almost perfectly moped her, so that she became even

as a changeling; and as soon as she began to recover, or to get a little

strength, she in her going would spread her legs as wide as she could,

and so lay hold with her hands on tables, chairs, forms, stools, etc.,

till she had learnt to go again; and if anything vexed her, she would

fall into her fits, and continue in them for a long time, so that we

were afraid she would have died in one of them.

"As soon as she recovered a little strength she constantly went to

church to pay her devotions to our great and good God. She took mighty

delight in devotion and in hearing the Word of God read and preached,

although she herself could not read. The first manual operation or

cure she performed was on my mother. The occasion was as follows: One

afternoon in the harvest time, all our family being in the fields at

work (and myself a boy at school), there was none in the house but my

mother and this Anne. My mother, considering that bread might be

a-wanting for the labourers, if care were not taken, and she having

before caused some bushels of wheat to be sent to the mill, which was

but a quarter of a mile from our house, desired to hasten the miller

to bring home the meal, that so her maids as soon as they came from

the fields might make and bake the bread; but in the meantime how to

dispose of her maid Anne was her great care, for she did not dare

trust her in the house alone, for fear she might do herself some

mischief by fire, or set the house on fire, for at that time she was

so weak that she could hardly help herself, and very silly withal. At

last, by much persuasion, my mother prevailed with her to walk in the

gardens and orchard till she came from the mill, to which she

willingly consented. Then my mother locked the door of the house and

walked to the mill; but as she was coming home, she slipped and hurt

her leg, so as that she could not rise. There she lay a considerable

time in great pain, till a neighbour, coming by on horseback, seeing

my mother in this condition, lifted her upon his horse. As soon as she

was brought within doors of the house, word was sent into the fields

to the reapers, who thereupon immediately left their harvest work and

came home. The house being presently full of people, a man-servant was

ordered to take a horse and ride for Mr. Lobb, an eminent surgeon who

then lived at Bodmin, which was eight miles from my father's house.

But, while the man was getting the horse ready, in comes our maid

Anne, and tells my mother that she was heartily sorry for the

mischance she had got in hurting her leg, and that she did it at such

a place, naming the place, and further, she desired she might see her

leg. My mother at first refused to show her leg, saying to her, What

should she show her leg to so poor and silly a creature as she was,

for she could do her no good. But Anne being very importunate with my

mother to see her leg, and my mother being unwilling to vex her by

denying her, for fear of her falling into her fits, for at all times

we dealt gently, lovingly, and kindly with her, did yield to her

request, and did show her her leg.

"Upon which Anne took my mother's leg upon her lap and stroked it with

her hand, and then asked my mother if she did not find ease by her

stroking of it? My mother confessed to her she did. Upon this she

desired my mother to forbear sending for the surgeon, for she would, by

the blessing of God, cure her leg. And to satisfy my mother of the truth

of it, she again appealed to my mother whether she did not find further

ease upon her continued stroking of the part affected. Which my mother

again acknowledged she did. Upon this my mother countermanded the

messenger for the surgeon. On this my mother demanded of her how she

came to the knowledge of her fall. She made answer that half a dozen

persons had told her of it. 'That,' replied my mother, 'could not be,

for there were none came by at that time but my neighbour, who brought

me home.' Anne answers again that that was truth, and it was also true

that half a dozen persons told her so, for, said she, 'you know I went

out of the house into the garden and orchard very unwillingly; and now I

will tell you the truth of all matters and things that have befallen me.

You know that this my sickness and fits came very suddenly upon me,

which brought me very low and weak, and have made me very simple. Now

the cause of my sickness was this: I was one day knitting of stockings

in the arbour of the garden, and there came over the garden hedge of a

sudden six small people, all in green clothes, which put me into such a

great fright that was the cause of my sickness; and they continue their

appearance to me, never less than two at a time nor more than eight.

They always appear in even numbers--2, 4, 6, 8. When I said often in my

sickness they were just gone out of the window, it was really so,

although you thought me light-headed. At this time, when I came out into

the garden, they came to me and asked me if you had put me out of the

house against my will. I told them I was unwilling to come out of the

house. Upon this they said you should not fare better for it, and

thereupon, in that place and at that time, in a fair pathway you fell

and hurt your leg. I would not have you send for a surgeon nor trouble

yourself, for I will cure your leg.' The which she did in a little time.

"This cure of my mother's leg, and the stories she told of those

fairies, made a noise all over the county of Cornwall. People of all

distempers, sicknesses, sores, and ages came not only so far off as

the Land's End, but also from London, and were cured by her. She took

no money of them nor any reward that ever I knew or heard of, yet had

she monies at all times, sufficient to supply her wants. She neither

made nor bought any medicines or salves that ever I saw or heard of,

yet wanted them not as she had occasion. She forsook eating our

victuals and was fed by those fairies from the harvest time to the

next Christmas Day, upon which day she came to our table and said

because it was that day she would eat some roast beef with us, the

which she did, I myself being then at the table.

"One time (I remember it perfectly well) I had a mind to speak with

her, and not knowing better where to find her than in her chamber, I

went thither, and fell a-knocking very earnestly at her chamber door

with my foot, and calling to her earnestly 'Anne! Anne! open the door

and let me in.' She answered me, 'Have a little patience and I will

let you in, immediately.' Upon which I looked through the keyhole of

the door and saw her eating; and when she had done eating she stood

still by the bedside as long as thanks might be given, and then she

made a courtesy (or bend) and opened the chamber door, and gave me a

piece of the bread, which I did eat, and I think it was the most

delicious bread that ever I did eat, either before or since.

"Another odd passage, which I must relate, was this: One Lord's Day,

my father with his family being at dinner in our hall, comes in one

of our neighbours, whose name was Francis Heathman, and asked where

Anne was. We told him she was in her chamber. Upon this he goes into

her chamber to see her, but, not seeing her, he calls her. She not

answering, he feels up and down the chamber for her, but not finding

her, comes and tells us she was not in her chamber. As soon as he had

said this, she comes out of her chamber to us, as we were sitting at

table, and tells him she was in her chamber and saw him and heard him

call her, and saw him feel up and down the chamber for her, and had

almost felt her, but he could not see her, although she saw him,

notwithstanding she was, at the same time, at the table in her

chamber, eating her dinner.

"One day these fairies gave my sister (the new wife of Mr. Humphry

Martyn) then about four years of age, a silver cup, which held about a

quart, bidding her give it my mother, and she did bring it my mother;

but my mother would not accept of it, but bid her carry it to them

again; which she did. I presume this was the time my sister owns she

saw the fairies. I confess to your lordship, I never did see them. I

had almost forgot to tell your lordship, that Anne would tell what

people would come to her, several days before they came, and from

whence, and at what time they would come.

"I have seen Anne in the orchard, dancing among the trees, and she

told me she was then dancing with the fairies.

"The great noise of the many strange cures Anne did, and also her

living without eating our victuals, she being fed, as she said, by

these fairies, caused both the neighbouring magistrates and ministers

to resort to my father's house, and talk with her, and strictly

examine her about the matter here related; and she gave them very

rational answers to all their questions they then asked her; for by

this time she was well recovered out of her sickness and fits, and her

natural parts and understanding much improved, my father and all his

family affirming the truth of all she said.

"The ministers endeavouring to persuade her they were evil spirits

resorted to her, and that it was the delusions of the devil. But how

could that be when she did no hurt, but good to all who came to her for

cure of their distempers? and advised her not to go to them when they

called her. However, that night after the magistrates and ministers were

gone, my father, with his family, sitting at a great fire in the hall,

Anne being also present, she spake to my father and said, 'Now they

call!' meaning the fairies. We all of us urged her not to go. In less

than half a quarter of an hour she said, 'Now they call a second time!'

We encouraged her again not to go to them. By and by she said, 'Now they

call a third time!' Upon which, away to her chamber she went to them. Of

all these calls of the fairies, none heard them but Anne. After she had

been in the chamber some time, she came to us again with a Bible in her

hand, and tells us that when she came to the fairies, they said to her,

'What, hath there been some magistrates and ministers to you, and

dissuaded you from coming any more to us, saying we are evil spirits,

and that it is all delusions of the devil? Pray desire them to read in

the 1st Epistle of S. John, chapter 4, verse 1, "Dearly beloved, believe

not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they be of God."' This

place of Scripture was turned down to in the said Bible. I told your

lordship before, Anne could not read.

"After this, one John Tregeagle, Esq., who was steward to John, Earl

of Radnor, being then a Justice of Peace in Cornwall, sent his

warrant for Anne, and sent her to Bodmin jail, and there kept her a

long time. That day the constable came to execute his warrant, Anne

milking the cows, the fairies appeared to her and told her that a

constable would come that day with a warrant to carry her before a

justice of the peace, and she would be sent to jail. She asked them if

she should hide herself. They answered, No, she should fear nothing,

but go with the constable. So she went with the constable to the

justice, and he sent her to Bodmin jail and ordered the prison-keeper

that she should be kept without victuals; and she was so kept, and yet

she lived, and that without complaining. When the sessions came, the

justices of the peace sent their warrant to one Giles Bawden, a

neighbour of ours, who was then a constable, for my mother and myself

to appear before them, at the sessions, to answer such questions as

should be demanded of us about our poor maid Anne.

"Bodmin was eight miles from my father's. When we came to the sessions,

the first who was called in before the justices was my mother. What

questions they asked her I do not remember. When they had done examining

her, they desired her to withdraw. As soon as she came forth I was

brought in, and called to the upper end of the table to be examined, and

there was the clerk of the peace, with the pen ready in his hand, to

take my examination. The first question they asked me was, 'What have

you got in your pockets?' I answered, 'Nothing, sir, but my cuffs':

which I immediately plucked out and I showed them. The second question

to me was, If I had any victuals in my pockets for my maid Anne? I

answered I had not; and so they dismissed me, as well as my mother. But

poor Anne lay in jail for a considerable time after; and also Justice

Tregeagle, who was her great persecutor, kept her in his house some time

as a prisoner, and that without victuals. And at last when Anne was

discharged out of prison, the justice made an order that Anne should not

live any more with my father. Whereupon my father's only sister, Mrs.

Frances Tom, a widow, near Padstow, took Anne into her family, and there

she lived a considerable time and did many cures; but what they were, my

kinsman, Mr. William Tom, who there lived in the house with his mother,

can give your lordship the best account of any I know living, except

Anne herself. And from hence she went to live with her own brother, and,

in process of time, married, etc.

"I am your lordship's most humble and dutiful servant,

"MOSES PITT.

"_May 1st, 1699._"

* * * * *

There are several points to be considered in this curious story. It is

written in all good faith, and is an honest account of what Pitt

remembered of events that took place some fifty years previously, when

he was a boy.

There is nothing in the first portion of the story that cannot be

explained without the intervention of fairies or pixies; but it is not

so easy to account for Anne's abstaining wholly from the food of

mortals like herself and being sustained on fairy food. It is not

uncommon for women to pretend that they do not eat; there have been

many "fasting girls," but all have been shown up to be impostors. In

this case, however, Anne Jefferies did not pretend to be a fasting

girl, but to be nourished by fairies. In the house of the Pitts she

might have surreptitiously procured food, but this she could not do

in the jail at Bodmin, nor in the house of Justice Tregeagle.

As to the cures she wrought, they are to be put in the same category

as faith cures all the world over, whether performed at Lourdes, or by

Christian scientists, or by Shamans in the steppes of Tartary.

Moses Pitt, the writer of the letter, was the son of John Pitt,

yeoman, of S. Teath; he was bound apprentice to Robert Litterbury,

citizen and haberdasher, in London, for seven years from October 1st,

1654. He became a foreman of the Haberdashers' Company 8th November,

1661, and started as a publisher and speculative builder. In 1680 he

began to issue _The English Atlas_ at his shop "The Angel," in S.

Paul's Churchyard. It was to be in twelve volumes, and was dedicated

to the King, but was never completed, as he got into difficulties. In

the first place he became sole executor to a Captain Richard Mill, who

had tenant right to the "Blue Boar's Head," in King Street,

Westminster, at an annual rent of £20. Pitt had to pay this, and also

Captain Mill's widow an annuity of £50. But he found the "Blue Boar's

Head" so dilapidated that he had to rebuild it at a heavy outlay

before he could let it. Then he had a quarrel with a neighbour about a

party wall he was rebuilding, leading to law proceedings, and Pitt was

cast in costs and damages. But his most serious loss was entailed by

his building a house for Lord Chancellor Jeffreys, which that judge

agreed to take at £300 per annum. As part of the land on which it was

to be built was Crown property, Jeffreys guaranteed Pitt that he would

obtain a lease for ninety-nine years of it, and bade him hurry on the

building. When Pitt had spent £4000 on it, Jeffreys was disgraced and

fell, owing to the flight of James II and the advent of William of

Orange. Pitt, greatly embarrassed for money, fled to Ireland; he

mortgaged his estates for £3000, but as his creditors were not

satisfied, he was finally arrested and sent to the Fleet Prison April

18th, 1689, where he remained till the 16th May, 1691, when he was

transferred to the King's Bench.

He published in the same year "The Cry of the Oppressed, being a true

and tragical account of the unparallel'd suffering of multitudes of

poor imprisoned debtors in most of the gaols of England, under the

tyranny of the gaolers and other oppressors.... Together with the case

of the Publisher." The sufferings of the debtors he knew by personal

experience, and his revelation is one of horrors perpetrated in the

Fleet and elsewhere, and illustrated with very graphic copper-plates.

His account of his own troubles occupies sixty-seven pages, and shows

him to have been a reckless speculator. Having been educated as a

haberdasher, he undertook to be a publisher, and simultaneously to be

a builder.

He probably obtained his release before 1695, as in that year he

published a letter relative to some discourses upon Dr. Burnet and Dr.

Tillotson, by a parson named George Hicker, D.D., and in 1696 he wrote

the account of Anne Jefferies, given above. He was married to a Miss

Upman. The date of his death is not known. Justice Tregeagle, who was

the special "persecutor" of Anne Jefferies, is very well remembered in

Cornish legend. He was a particularly wicked man and harsh steward,

and lies buried near the chancel of S. Breock. His home was Trevorder,

in that parish.

THOMAS KILLIGREW, THE

KING'S JESTER

The Killigrew family seems to have possessed a great hankering after

the stage, for four of them were playwrights. Indeed, Henry Killigrew,

educated at Christ Church, Oxford, began at the age of seventeen, when

a play written by him was performed at the nuptials of Lord Charles

Herbert with Lady Mary Villiers, at the Black Friars. Some critics

present objected that one of the characters, representing a boy of

seventeen, talked too freely for his age, and Falkland replied "that

it was neither monstrous nor impossible for one of seventeen years to

speak at such a rate; when he that made him speak in that manner, and

who wrote the whole play, was himself no older."

Sir William Killigrew, Knt., who was loyal to Charles I, and stood

high in favour with Charles II, usher of the privy chamber and

vice-chamberlain to the Queen, also wrote plays, tragi-comedies, but

they do not appear to have taken with the public.

But the man who was most stage-stricken of the family was Thomas, the

fourth son of Sir Robert Killigrew, born in 1611. He became early in

life page of honour to Charles I, and he attended Charles II when in

exile. At this period, when Charles was sorely in need of money,

Thomas Killigrew was despatched as "Resident" to Venice, in 1652, "to

borrow money of English merchants for his (Charles's) owne

subsistence," and "to press the Duke to furnish Us with a present some

(sum) of money and we will engage ourselves by any Act or Acts to

repay with interest, and so likewise for any Arms or Ammunition he

shall be pleased to furnish Us withall. The summe you shall move him

to furnish Us with shall be Ten thousand Pistolls."

[Illustration: _Thomas Killigrew Groome of y^e Bedchamber to King

Charles y^e Second_]

According to Hyde, Charles misdoubted the suitableness of Killigrew

for this delicate negotiation; and was finally prevailed to send him,

simply to gratify Tom.

The misgivings of the Prince were justified, for Killigrew and his

servants behaved so badly at Venice that the Doge, Francisco Erizzo,

had to complain through his ambassador.

Sir Edward Hyde, in a letter to Sir Richard Browne, wrote: "I have

informed the Kinge of the Venetian Ambassador's complainte against Mr.

Killigrew, with which His Majesty is very much troubled, and resolves

upon his returne hither to examyne his miscarriage, and to proceed

therein in such a manner as shall be worthy of him, and as may

manifest his respecte to that Commonwealth, with which the Crowne of

Englande hath alwayes held a very stricte amity, and His Majesty's

Ministers have in all places preserved a very good correspondence with

the Ministers of that State, and therefore His Majesty is more

sensible of this misdemeanour of his Resident."

On Killigrew's return to the Court of S. Germain, Sir John Denham

addressed him in these lines:--

Our Resident Tom

From Venice has come,

And has left the Statesman behind him;

Talks at the same pitch,

Is as wise, is as rich,

And just where you left him, you find him.

But who says he is not

A man of much plot,

May repent of this false accusation;

Having-plotted and penn'd

Six plays to attend

The Farce of his negotiation.

But although Charles might put on an appearance of being indignant,

and though he was vexed that Tom did not return laden with "pistolls,"

he was too careless and too fond of being entertained to part with his

principal buffoon. But thenceforth he employed him mainly in

transactions about wine, canary and sack, of which the Prince needed

much.

The story is told of Louis XIV that he had heard much of the wit of

Tom Killigrew, and sent for him to Versailles, where he talked to him,

but could elicit nothing from him. Thinking that this proceeded from

shyness he drew him apart, and led him into the gallery to show him

the pictures. There he asked him if he knew what they represented. Tom

expressed his ignorance, whereupon the King led him before a painting

of the Crucifixion, and asked him what that represented. "I believe,

your Majesty," replied Tom, "that it is a picture of Christ between

two thieves."

"And who might they be?"

"Your Majesty and the Pope," replied the audacious jester.

The first wife of Thomas Killigrew was Cecilia, a daughter of Sir John

Crofts, of Saxham, in Suffolk, and he was married to her on June 29th,

1636.

The weather on the wedding day was rude and boisterous, which gave

rise to some lines by Thomas Carew:--

"Such should this day be; so the sun should hide

His bashful face, and let the conquering bride

Without a rivall shine, whilst he forbears

To mingle his unequall beams with hers;

Or if sometime he glance his squinting eye

Between the parting clouds, 'tis but to spye,

Not emulate her glories; so comes drest

In vayles, but as a masquer to the feast."

She brought her husband a fortune of £10,000, and a son and heir,

Henry, born in April, 1637. She was buried the 5th January, 1638, in

Westminster Abbey. Tom married again, when in exile, at the Hague, and

his second wife was Charlotte, daughter of John van Hesse, a Dutch

woman. The marriage took place 26th January, 1655, and by her he had

three sons, Robert, Charles, and Thomas.

At length came the recall of Charles to England, and Tom Killigrew

accompanied him in the same vessel, very lighthearted, and expectant

of great things. Pepys had gone over to meet the King, and he says,

May 24th, 1660: "Walking upon the decks, were persons of honour all

the afternoon, among others Thomas Killigrew, a merry droll, but a

gentleman of great esteem with the King, who told us many merry

stories." Among them one Pepys quotes, which is profane.

Thomas Killigrew was appointed Groom of the Bedchamber, with a salary

of £400 per annum, which he augmented by receiving bribes from those

who were solicitous to obtain posts under the Crown, and to use his

influence with the King to get them.

He had now an opportunity of producing on the London stage the plays

that he had composed whilst abroad. Of these there were eight, comedies

and tragi-comedies, all borrowed, none exhibiting any genuine wit, but

steeped in ordure. One, _The Parson's Wedding_, borrowed from _The

Antiquary_, by Shakerly Marmion, and _Raw Alley_, by Lord Barrey, was

actually to be performed wholly by women. It has been well said by Mr.

Tregellas: "We find ourselves indeed 'surrounded by foreheads of bronze,

hearts like the nether millstone, and tongues set on fire of hell.' I

must add that they have scarcely a sparkle of that witty wickedness

which one meets with in the writings of Sir Charles Sedley."

All Killigrew's plays were printed in folio in 1644. Pepys did not see

much merit in them. Of _The Parson's Wedding_ he says: "Luellin tells

me what an obscene, loose play this is, that is acted by nothing but

women, at the King's House." Of _Claracilla_, "a poor play." Of _Love

at First Sight_, "I find the play to be a poor thing, and so I

perceive every body else do." Nor did he think much of Killigrew's

conversation. He described it as "poor and frothy."

In _The Companion to the Playhouse_, 1764, there are some stories told

of Killigrew.

"After the Restoration he continued in high favour with the King, and

had frequently access to him when he was denied to the first peers of

the realm; and being a man of great wit and liveliness of parts, and

having from his long intimacy with that monarch, and being continually

about his person during his troubles, acquired a freedom of

familiarity with him, which even the pomp of Majesty afterwards could

not check in him, he sometimes, by way of jest, which King Charles was

ever fond of, if genuine, even tho' himself was the object of the

satire, would adventure bold truths which scarcely any one beside

would have dared even to hint to. One story in particular is related

of him, which, if true, is a strong proof of the great lengths he

would sometimes proceed in his freedoms of this kind, which is as

follows: When the King's unbounded passion for women had given his

mistress such an ascendancy over him, that, like the effeminate

Persian monarch, he was fitter to have handled a distaff than to wield

a sceptre, and for the conversation of his concubines utterly

neglected the most important affairs of state, Mr. Killigrew went to

pay his Majesty a visit in his private apartments, habited like a

pilgrim who was bent on a long journey. The King, surprised at the

oddity of his appearance, immediately asked him what was the meaning

of it, and whither he was going. '_To Hell_,' bluntly replied the man.

'Prithee,' said the King, 'what can your errand be to that place?' 'To

fetch back Oliver Cromwell,' rejoined he, 'that he may take some care

of the affairs of England, for his successor takes none at all.'"

This was not the only time that Killigrew gave good counsel to the

King. Pepys says: "Mr. Pierce did tell me as a great truth, as being

told by Mr. Cowley, who was by, and heard it, that Tom Killigrew

should publicly tell the King that his matters were coming into a very

ill state, and that yet there was a way to help all. Says he: 'There

is a good, honest, able man, that I could name, that, if your Majesty

would employ, and command to see all things well executed, all things

would soon be mended; and this one is Charles Stuart, who now spends

his time in employing his lips about the Court, and hath no other

employment, but if you would give him this employment, he were the

fittest man in the world to perform it.' This, he says, is most true;

but the King do not profit by any of this, but lays it aside, and

remembers nothing, but to his pleasures again."

On another occasion Killigrew is said to have placed under the

candlestick where Charles II supped, five small papers, on each of

which he had written the word ALL. The King on seeing them, asked what

he meant by these five words. "If your Majesty will grant my pardon,

I will tell you," was his reply. Pardon being promised, Killigrew

said: "The first ALL signified that the country had sent all it could

to the exchequer; the second, that the City had lent all it could and

would; the third, that the Court had spent all; the fourth, that if we

did not mend all; the fifth would be the worse for all."

This was afterwards adapted and turned upon the family of William of

Orange: "That he was William Think-all; his queen Mary Take-all;

Prince George of Denmark, George Drink-all; and Princess Anne, Anne

Eat-all."

Although Thomas Killigrew went by the designation of the King's

Jester, he held no official position as such.

"Mr. Cooling told us how the King, once speaking of the Duke of York's

being mastered by his wife, said to some of the company, by that he

would go no more abroad with this Tom Otter (a hen-pecked husband in

Ben Jonson's _Epicæne_), meaning the Duke of York and his wife. Tom

Killigrew, being by, said, 'Sir, pray which is the best, for a man to

be a Tom Otter to his wife or to his mistress?' meaning the King's

being so to my Lady Castlemaine."

Killigrew was engaged one morning with one of his own plays, which he

took up in the window, whilst His Majesty was shaving. "Ah,

Killigrew," asked the King, "what will you say at the Last Day in

defence of the idle words in that book?" To which Tom replied, that he

could give a better account of his "idle words," than the King would

be able to give respecting his "idle promises and more idle patents,

that had undone more than ever did his books."

"One more story is related of him, which is not barren of humour. King

Charles's fondness for pleasure, to which he almost always made

business give way, used frequently to delay affairs of consequence,

from His Majesty's disappointing the Council of his presence when met

for dispatch of business, which neglect gave great disgust and offence

to many of those who were treated with this seeming disrespect. On one

of these occasions the Duke of Lauderdale, who was naturally impetuous

and turbulent, quitted the council-chamber in a violent passion, and,

meeting Mr. Killigrew presently after, expressed himself on the

occasion in very disrespectful terms of His Majesty. Killigrew begged

His Grace to moderate his passion, and offered to lay him a wager of a

hundred pounds that he himself would prevail on His Majesty to come to

the council within half an hour. The Duke, surprised at the boldness

of the assertion, and warmed by his resentment against the King,

accepted the wager, on which Killigrew immediately went to the King,

and without ceremony told him what had happened, adding these words:

'I knew that Your Majesty hated Lauderdale, though the necessity of

your affairs compels you to carry an outward appearance of civility;

now, if you choose to be rid of a man who is thus disagreeable to you,

you need only go this once to council, for I know his covetous

disposition so perfectly, that I am well persuaded, rather than pay

this hundred pounds, he would hang himself out of the way, and never

plague you more.'

"The King was so pleased with the archness of the observation, that he

immediately replied, 'Well, then, Killigrew, I positively will go.'

And kept his word accordingly."

Pepys has a good deal to say about Killigrew. He tells how Killigrew

became enamoured of the stage when a boy. "He would go to the 'Red

Bull,' and when the man cried to the boys, 'Who will go and be a

devil, and he shall see the play for nothing?' then would he go in,

and be a devil upon the stage, and so get to see plays."

2nd August, 1664. "To the King's playhouse, and there saw _Bartholomew

Fayre_, which do still please me, and is, as it is acted, the best

comedy in the world, I believe. I chanced to sit by Tom Killigrew, who

tells me that he is setting up a nursery (for actors), that is, is

going to build a house in Moorefields, wherein he will have common

plays acted."

12th February, 1666-7. "With my Lord Bronnaker by coach to his house,

there to hear some Italian musique, and there we met Tom Killigrew, Sir

Robert Murray, and the Italian, Signor Baptista, who hath proposed a

play in Italian for the Opera, which T. Killigrew do intend to have up."

Thomas Killigrew was nearly sixty years old when he narrowly escaped

assassination in S. James's Park. He had been carrying on an intrigue

with Lady Shrewsbury, but found a dangerous and more successful rival in

the Duke of Buckingham. Whereupon in spite and revenge he poured over

the lady a stream of foul and venomous satire. The result was that one

evening, on his return from the Duke of York's, some ruffians, hired for

the purpose, set upon Tom's chair, through which they passed their

swords three times, wounding him in the arm. The assassins then fled,

having killed his man, and believing they had killed Tom Killigrew.

He recovered from his wound, lived on thirteen or fourteen years

longer, and was buried in Westminster Abbey on 19th March, 1682-3.

His son Thomas was a playwright, and his son Charles proprietor of

"the Playhouse, Drury Lane."

The Killigrews have now passed, not individually only, but as a family

off the stage of life, and are remembered only by their deeds, good

and bad, as recorded in history. It was usually said of Tom Killigrew

that when he attempted to write he was dull, whereas in conversation

he was smart; and this was precisely the reverse of Cowley, who did

not shine in conversation, but sparkled with his pen. In allusion to

this Denham wrote:--

Had Cowley ne'er spoken, and Killigrew ne'er writ,

Combin'd in one, they'd make a matchless wit.

NICOLAS ROSCARROCK

Nicolas Roscarrock was the fifth son of Richard Roscarrock, of

Roscarrock, in S. Endelion, by Isabell, daughter of Richard Trevenor.

His grandmother was a Boscawen. His father during his lifetime had

settled upon him the estates of Penhall, Carbura, and Newtown, in the

parishes of S. Cleer and S. Germans.

He first studied at Exeter College, Oxford, and took his B.A. in 1568.

Carew, in his _Survey of Cornwall_, p. 299, tells us of "his

industrious delight in matters of history and antiquity."

In 1577 Roscarrock was admitted student of the Inner Temple. In the

same year was published by Richard Tottell _The Worthies of Armorie

... collected and gathered by John Bossewell_, to which were prefixed

ninety-four verses, entitled _Cilenus, Censur of the Author of his

High Court of Herehautry_, by Nicolas Roscarrocke.

In the Inner Temple he seems to have been associated with Raleigh, for

in 1576 appeared _The Steepleglas, a satyre_, and among commendatory

verses are some signed "N. R." and the rest by "Walter Rawely of the

Inner Temple."

In 1577 he was in Cornwall, where he suffered much annoyance because of

his faith, as he refused to conform to the English liturgy, and

maintained the Papal supremacy. It was in 1570 that Pope Pius V had

issued a bull of excommunication against Elizabeth, deprived her of her

title to the crown, and absolved her subjects from their oaths of

allegiance. This violent and ill-judged proceeding at once converted all

those who held by the Pope into suspected traitors; and measures were

adopted against them, the more so as the Jesuits and their agents were

more than suspected of forming plots for the assassination of the Queen.

Nicolas Roscarrock was accused at Launceston Assizes on September

16th, 1577, "for not going to church." He was in London later, and was

an active member of the "Young Men's Club," 1579-81.

From the _State Papers_, 1547-50, we learn that two spies were

employed by the Government to discover Nicolas Roscarrock. He had,

however, probably fled to Douay, where a Roscarrock is entered in the

_Douay Diary_ as landing on September, 1580.

But he was again in England in 1581, when he was sent to the Tower,

where by a refinement of cruelty he was placed in a cell adjoining

that of a friend who had been racked, that the moans of the latter

might intimidate Roscarrock into giving evidence of plots against the

life of the Queen. On January 14th, 1581, Nicolas was himself tortured

on the rack. He remained for five years in prison in the Tower, and in

the Fleet again till 1594, in all fourteen years.

He was finally released, and went in 1607 north to Naworth to Lord

William Howard, with whom he remained till his death, which took place

in 1633 or 1634, when he had reached an advanced age.

Such in brief is the history of Nicolas Roscarrock.

Whilst he was at Naworth, he occupied himself in compiling a volume of

the _Lives of the English Saints_.

The first part he wrote with his own hand, but as his sight failed, he

was obliged to employ an amanuensis, who wrote very untidily and made

strange havoc of many of the names, which he wrote phonetically from

dictation. The MS. has undergone annotation by two hands: one was

Roscarrock himself, who added in matters which reached him later; the

other was Dom Gregory Hungate, a Benedictine.

As far as can be judged, the MS. was compiled between 1610 and 1625.[32]

After the dispersion of Lord William Howard's library, we do not know

what became of the book till about 1700, when it formed a portion of a

library bequeathed to Brent Eleigh parish, in Suffolk, by a certain Mr.

Edward Colman, sometime of Trinity College, Cambridge. Here it seems to

have undergone rough usage, and it was probably there that the MS. lost

so many pages torn out. As it is, it consists of no fewer than 850

pages; folio 253 is missing, also some pages from the beginning and

something like ninety at the end that have been torn out.

At the sale of the Brent Eleigh Library, the MS. was purchased by the

University Library managers, Cambridge, and it is now in that library

(Add. MS. 3041).

It is a thick volume, measuring 1 ft. by 8-1/4 in.

It possesses an Introduction, "How Saynts may be esteemed soe,

Secondlye of their Commemorations and the trewest enfalliblest manner

of discovering them, and what Course the Collector of this Alphebitt

of Saints that he observed in this Collection." Then follows an

article on the Canonizing of Saints, and another "Of the Course and

Order which is to be observed in my Collection." Then ensues a

Calendar, and this is followed by an alphabetical biographical notice

of the saints to Simon Sudbury, where the rest is torn away.

Nicolas Roscarrock had recourse mainly to printed authorities, to

Capgrave, Surius, Harpsfield, and to Whytford's _Martyrologie_. But he

had also access to the MSS. of Edward Powell, a Welsh priest, who had

a considerable collection of Welsh saintly pedigrees. With regard to

the Cornish saints, he records current traditions of his time, that he

had collected in his youth. But he had also a MS. Cornish life of S.

Columba, to which Hals refers. Unhappily, he has not given us the

original, only its substance. And he quotes from a Cornish hymn or

ballad relative to S. Mabenna, but which to our great regret he does

not give. Here and there he indulges in verses of his own composition

in honour of the saints, but they are of no poetic merit.

In the volume is a letter undated, addressed by one W. Webbe to--we

suppose--the chaplain at Naworth. It is as follows:--

"Most Worthy Syr,

"Mr. Trewenna Roscarrock found in the library of Oxford a story of

a certain Christian and his wife who came out of Ireland with

their children to fly the persecution, and lived in Cornwall: and

after some tyme both he and his wife with the children suffered

martyrdom in Cornwall, and in their honour were faire Churches

dedicated. Some of the names of these saints (as wee suppose) wear

these as follow:--

"S. Essye, S. Milior, S. Que, S. Einendar, S. Eue, S. Maubon, S.

Breage, S. Earvin, S. Merrine, &c.

"They were about 20 at the least; the story at large, Mr.

Roscarrock's Book, and keeping noe coppy of it lent it to his

brother, Mr. Nicolas Roscarocke, who lived and dyed at my Lord

William Hoard's House in y^e North.

"Now some worthye Catholickes of Cornwall being desirous to

understand the full story, to the end they may the better honour

these Saynts of their County, besought me to write unto the North

about this, and get out of Mr. Nicolas Roscarocke's writings this

story, they knowing that he was wont to compile together such

monuments for further memorye. I did soe and I was assured by a

good Gentleman a friend of mine, and who actually lives with the

house, that Sir William Hoard, my Lord William's son, had Mr.

Nicolas Roscarock's written booke, and papers, and that he would

most willingly pleasure my Countrymen in this holy desire of

theirs--Wherefore Worthy Syr I shall humble intreate you for God's

sake, and for the honours of these glorious [sai[33]]nts martyrs,

to deale efficaciously with Syr William Hoard [to obta]ine a copy

of this story for all our comforts and wee [shall be al]wayes

obleidged to pray for you and Syr William [both in] this worlde

and in the next.

"Your servant to his honor,

"H. WEBBE."

FOOTNOTES:

[32] Authorities for his life: Ormsby, _The Household Books of Lord

William Howard_, Surtees Soc., 1878, pp. 506 _et seq._; Gildew's

_Biographical Dictionary of English Catholics; Jesuits in Conflict_,

1873, p. 206; the _Douay Diaries_, ed. Knox; Boase and Courtney's

_Bibliographia Cornubiensis; Notes and Queries_, 5th series, IV, 402-4

(1875); Morris, _Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers_, 1st series,

1872, p. 95, 2nd series, 1875, pp. 33, 79-80; Challoner's _Memoirs of

Missionary Priests_, p. 32; _Dict. of National Biography_, _State

Papers_, etc.; an admirable and exhaustive Life in MS. by Rev. E. Nolan,

Trinity College, Cambridge, in the University Library, Cambridge.

[33] A corner of the letter is torn off, but it is easy to supply the

missing portions of the words and sentences.

LIEUTENANT PHILIP G. KING

The Commissioners of His Majesty's Navy, near the close of 1786,

advertised for a certain number of vessels to be taken up for the

purpose of conveying between seven and eight hundred male and female

convicts to Botany Bay, in New South Wales, whither it had been

determined by the Government to transport them, after having sought in

vain upon the African coast for a situation possessing the requisites

for the establishment of a penal colony. The following vessels were at

length contracted for, and assembled in the Thames to fit and take in

stores: the _Alexander_, _Scarborough_, _Charlotte_, _Lady Penrhyn_,

and _Friendship_ as transports; and the _Fishbourne_, _Golden Grove_,

and _Borrowdale_--these latter as storeships. The _Prince of Wales_

was afterwards added to the number of transports. The transports

immediately prepared for the reception of the convicts, and the

storeships took on board provisions for two years, with tools,

implements of agriculture, seeds, etc.

On October 24th Captain Arthur Phillips hoisted a pennant on board

H.M.S. _Sirius_, of twenty guns, then lying at Deptford. As the

government of the meditated colony, as well as the command of the

_Sirius_, was given to Captain Phillips, it was thought necessary to

appoint another captain to her, who might command on any service in

which she might be employed for the colony, while Captain Phillips

would be engaged supervising the convicts on shore. For this purpose

John Hunter was nominated second captain of the _Sirius_.

On March 5th, 1787, order for embarkation arrived, and on Monday, May

7th, Captain Phillips arrived at Portsmouth and took command of the

little fleet, then lying at the Mother Bank.

Phillips had with him two lieutenants, Philip Gidley King and Mr. Dawes.

Philip G. King was the son of Philip King, a draper in Launceston, by

his wife, the daughter of John Gidley, attorney, of Exeter. Philip G.

King was born at Launceston 23rd April, 1758. He was midshipman on board

the _Swallow_ in 1770-5, and now was placed under Captain Phillips to

assist in the settlement of felons in a colony at Botany Bay.

Whilst the little fleet was on its way down the Channel, it was

discovered that a plot had been formed among the convicts on board the

_Scarborough_ to mutiny. They hoped to obtain command of the vessel,

when those in the other transports would follow their example, and

they trusted that the entire fleet would fall into their power. The

scheme was insane, as H.M.S. _Sirius_ could knock the transports to

pieces with her guns. The plot was betrayed by one of the convicts to

the commanding officer on board the _Scarborough_, and he at once

communicated with Captain Phillips. The two ringleaders were brought

on board the _Sirius_, and each was given two dozen lashes.

The fleet sailed for Teneriffe, and thence, on the 11th June, for Rio

de Janeiro; and from thence for the Cape of Good Hope.

On November 10th, Captain Phillips sailed ahead of the fleet in the

_Supply_ to reconnoitre the coast of New South Wales, and ascertain

where best to land, and he took with him the _Alexander_, the

_Scarborough_, and the _Friendship_, and having on board his two

lieutenants, King and Dawes.

[Illustration: LIEUTENANT PHILIP GIDLEY KING]

On January 19th, 1788, he landed in Botany Bay, and sent Lieutenant

King to survey the coast and inland as far as might be.

Botany Bay being found to be a station of inferior advantages to what

was expected, and no spot appearing proper for the colony, Governor

Phillips at once resolved to transfer it to another excellent inlet,

about twelve miles further to the north, called Port Jackson, on the

south side of which, at a spot called Sydney Cove, the settlement was

decided to be made.

The spot chosen for this purpose was at the head of the cove, near a

run of fresh water, which stole silently along through a very thick

wood, the stillness of which had thus, for the first time since the

Creation, been interrupted by the rude sound of the labourer's axe and

the downfall of the ancient inhabitants--a stillness and tranquillity

which from that day were to give place to the noise of labour, the

confusion of carriers, and all the clamour of the bringing on shore of

the stores, and the erection of habitations.

A flagstaff was set up and the Union Jack hoisted, when the Marines

fired several volleys, and the healths of the King and Royal Family

were drunk, as well as success to the new colony.

The disembarkation of the troops and convicts took place on the

following day.

The confusion that ensued will not be wondered at when it is

considered that every man stepped from his boat literally into a

virgin forest. Parties of people were to be seen on all sides

variously employed, some in clearing ground for the different

encampments, others in pitching tents, or bringing up such stores as

were more immediately needed. As the woods were opened and the ground

cleared, the various encampments were extended, and all gradually

assumed the appearance of regularity.

A portable canvas house, brought over for the governor, was erected on

the south side of the cove, which was named Sydney, in compliment to

the principal Secretary of State for the Home Department. There also a

small body of convicts was put under tents. The detachment of marines

was encamped at the head of the cove near the stream, and on the west

side was planted the main body of convicts.

The women were not disembarked till the 6th February, when, every person

belonging to the settlement being landed, the whole amounted to 1030

persons. The tents for the sick were placed on the west side, and it was

observed with concern that their number was fast increasing. Scurvy,

that had not appeared during the voyage, now broke out, and this, along

with dysentery, began to fill the hospital, and several died.

In addition to the medicines that were administered, every species of

esculent plant that could be found in the country was procured for

them--wild celery, spinach, and parsley fortunately grew in abundance.

Those who were in health, as well as the sick, were glad to introduce

this wholesome addition to their ration of salt meat.

The public stock, consisting of one bull, four cows, one bull-calf,

one stallion, three mares, and three colts, were landed and left to

crop the pasturage of the little farm that had been formed at the head

of an adjoining cove, and which had been placed under the direction of

a man brought out for the purpose by the Governor.

Some ground having been dug over and prepared near His Excellency's

house on the south side, the plants brought from Rio de Janeiro and

from the Cape were planted, and the colonists soon had the

satisfaction of seeing the grapes, figs, oranges, pears, and

apples--in a word, the best fruits of the Old World--taking root and

establishing themselves in this their New World.

As soon as the hurry and turmoil of disembarkation had subsided, the

Governor caused His Majesty's commission appointing him to be

Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of New South Wales and its

dependencies, to be publicly read, and he then addressed the convicts,

assuring them that "he would be ever ready to show approbation and

encouragement to those who proved themselves worthy of them by good

conduct and attention to orders; while, on the other hand, such as were

determined to act in opposition to propriety, and observe a contrary

conduct, would inevitably meet with the punishment they deserved."

The convicts from the first gave much trouble. They secreted the tools,

so as to avoid being compelled to work, and it was found almost

impossible to get work out of them, as there was a deficiency of proper

men to set over them. Those who were so placed were for the most part

also convicts, men who by their conduct during the voyage had

recommended themselves, and these had been appointed foremen over the

rest, but it was soon discovered that they lacked the authority

requisite. The sailors from the transports, though repeatedly forbidden

to do so and frequently punished, persisted in bringing spirits on shore

every night, and drunkenness was often the consequence.

Before the month of February was half through, a plot among the convicts

to rob the store was discovered. This was the more unpardonable in that

the rations given out to the convicts were precisely the same as those

served to the soldiers. Each male convict received as his weekly

portion 7 lb. biscuits, 1 lb. flour, 7 lb. beef, 4 lb. pork, 3 pints of

peas, 6 oz. of butter; the women received one-third less.

The ringleaders were charged before a Court that was summoned. One was

hanged, another reprieved on condition of becoming the public

executioner; the rest had milder sentences.

The Governor having received instructions to establish another

settlement on Norfolk Island, the _Supply_ sailed for that place in

the midst of February under the command of Lieutenant King of the

_Sirius_, named by Captain Phillips superintendent and commandant of

the settlement to be formed there. Lieutenant King took with him one

surgeon, one petty officer, two private soldiers, two persons who

pretended to have some knowledge of flax-dressing, and nine male and

six female convicts. This little party was to be landed with tents,

clothing, implements of husbandry, tools for dressing flax, etc., and

provisions for six months, before the expiration of which time it was

intended to send them a fresh supply.

Norfolk Island was to be settled with a view to the cultivation of

flax, which at the time when the island was discovered by Captain Cook

was found growing most luxuriantly where he had landed; this was the

_Phormi tenax_, New Zealand flax.

Mr. King, previous to his departure for the new settlement, was sworn

in as a Justice of Peace, and was empowered to punish such petty

offences as might be committed among the settlers; capital crime being

reserved for the cognizance of the Criminal Court of Judicature,

established at Sydney by Governor Phillips.

The _Supply_ reached Norfolk Island on February 29th, but for five

succeeding days was not able to effect a landing, being prevented by

a surf that was breaking with violence on a reef that lay across the

principal bay. Lieutenant King had nearly given up all hopes of being

able to land, when a small opening was discovered in the reef wide

enough to admit a boat. Through this he succeeded in passing safely,

along with his people and stores. When landed, he could nowhere find a

space clear for pitching a tent, and he had to cut through an almost

impenetrable jungle before he could encamp himself and his people.

Of the stock he carried with him, he lost the only she-goat he had,

and one ewe. He had named the bay wherein he landed and planted his

settlement, Sydney; and had given the names of Phillip and Nepean to

two small islands situated at a small distance from it.

The soil of Norfolk Island was ascertained to be very rich, but Sydney

Bay was exposed to the southerly winds, which drove the surf furiously

over the reef. The _Supply_ lost one of her hands, who was drowned in

attempting to pass through the reef. There was a small bay on the

further side of the island, but it was at a considerable distance from

the settlement.

On February 14th, 1789, Lieutenant Ball sailed for Norfolk Island in

the _Golden Grove_ with provisions and convicts, twenty-one male, six

female convicts, and three children; of the latter two were to be

placed under Lieutenant King's special care. They were of different

sexes; the boy, Parkinson, was about three years of age, and had lost

his mother on the voyage to Botany Bay; the girl was a year older and

had a mother in the colony, but as she was a woman of abandoned

character, the child was taken from her, to save it from the ruin

which otherwise would inevitably have befallen it. These children were

to be instructed in reading, writing, and husbandry. The Commandant

was directed to cause five acres of ground to be allotted and

cultivated for their benefit.

In March, the little colony in Norfolk Island was threatened with an

insurrection. The convicts plotted the capture of the island and the

seizure of Mr. King's person. They had chosen the day when this was to

be effected, the first Saturday after the arrival of any ship in the

bay, except the _Sirius_. They had selected this day, as it had for

some time been Mr. King's custom on Saturdays to visit a farm he had

established at a little distance from the settlement, and the military

generally chose that day for bringing in the cabbage-palm from the

woods. Mr. King was to be secured on his way to the farm. A message,

in the Commandant's name, was to be sent to Mr. Jamison, the surgeon,

who was to be seized as soon as he got into the woods; and the

sergeant and the party of soldiers were to be treated in the same

manner. These being all properly disposed of, a signal was to be made

to the ship in the bay to send her boat on shore, the crew of which

were to be made prisoners on landing; and two or three of the

insurgents were to go off in a boat belonging to the island, and

inform the commanding officer that the ship's boat had been stove on

the beach, and that the Commandant, King, requested that another might

be sent on shore. This also was to be captured; and then, as the last

act in this plot, the ship was to be taken, in which they designed to

proceed to Otaheite, and there establish a colony.

The plot was revealed to a seaman of the _Sirius_, who lived with Mr.

King as a gardener, by a female convict who cohabited with him. On

being acquainted with the circumstances, the Commandant took such

measures as appeared to him necessary to defeat the object of the

plotters; and several who were concerned in the scheme were arrested

and confessed the share they were to have had in the execution of it.

Mr. King had hitherto, from the peculiarity of his situation--secluded

from society, and confined to a small speck in the vast ocean, with

but a handful of people--drawn them around him, and had treated them

in a kindly and even confidential and affectionate manner; but now he

saw that these felons were too ingrained with vice to appreciate such

treatment, and one of his first steps was to clear the ground as far

as was possible round the settlement, that future villainy might not

find a shelter in the woods. To this truly providential circumstance

many of the colonists were afterwards indebted for their lives in an

outbreak that took place after he had quitted the island.

At this time there were on the island 16 free people, 51 male and 23

female convicts, and 4 children.

In June, 1789, Lieutenant Creswell was sent with 14 privates of the

Marines to Norfolk Island, and with a written order from His

Excellency requiring Creswell to take upon himself the direction and

execution of the authority invested in Lieutenant King, in the event

of any accident happening to the latter.

In March, 1790, 116 male and 68 female convicts were sent to Norfolk

Island and 27 children. Major Ross was appointed to supersede King;

both the _Sirius_ and the _Supply_ arrived, but unhappily the former

ran upon the reef on the 19th April. All the officers and people were

saved, being dragged on shore through the surf on a grating.

King returned to New South Wales in the _Supply_. There had been

disaster and distress in the colony there. The sheep had been stolen and

the cattle lost in the woods, and these were not found till 1795, after

they had been lost for seven years, and they were then found grazing on

a remote clearing, and had increased to a surprising degree.

It was now determined that Lieutenant King should return to England

and report progress. A Dutch vessel was hired to take him and the

officers and men of the _Sirius_ home. He sailed in the _Batavia_ in

April, 1790, and arrived in England December 20th, 1790.

Philip Gidley King was appointed Governor of New South Wales,

September, 1800, and held that appointment till 15th August, 1806,

when his health failing he returned to England, and died at Lower

Tooting, Surrey, 3rd September, 1808.

He was the father of Rear-Admiral Philip Parker King, who was born on

Norfolk Island, 13th December, 1791, after his father had left for

England. He entered the Royal Navy as first-class volunteer in 1807,

midshipman in 1809, lieutenant in 1814. He married Harriet, daughter

of Christopher Lethbridge, of Launceston, and died at Sydney 25th

February, 1856, and was buried at Parramatta beside his mother, who

had been laid there many years before, not having come to England.

There is no record as to who and what she was.

For information relative to Philip Gidley King his Diary may be

consulted in John Hunter's _Historical Journal of the Transactions at

Port Jackson and Norfolk Island_, 1795; see also David Collins's

_Account of the English Colony of New South Wales_, 1798-1802.

HICKS OF BODMIN

William Robert Hicks was born at Bodmin on 1st April, 1808--not to be an

April fool himself, but to be a right merry jester, and not infrequently

to make fools of others. He was the son of a schoolmaster, and he, Sir

William Molesworth, of Pencarrow, and Colonel Hamley were educated

together for a while in the school of his father.

William Robert became Clerk of the Board of Guardians, Clerk of the

Highway Board, and Governor of the County Lunatic Asylum. He was a man

of many parts, a good mathematician, a clear-headed and cool man of

business, a musician, who could play on the violin and play it well.

But he was noted above everything else as a humorist.

He was a short man and inordinately stout, weighing sixteen stone. He

had a broad, flexible, somewhat flabby face, with a pair of twinkling

grey eyes, a short nose, somewhat protruding thick under lip, and

double chin that was very pronounced, and whiskers. What was

noticeable in Hicks's face was its flexibility. He possessed the art

and the power to tell his story with his countenance as with his

voice. Indeed, the alterations of mood in his face were like a musical

accompaniment to a song. He was thought the best story-teller of his

day; was known as such in Cornwall and Devon, but was not so well

appreciated in London, where the peculiar dry humour of the West, as

well as the dialect, did not appeal to ordinary hearers as they do in

the two Western Counties. One of his many Cornish friends once took

Hicks up to town and dined him at his club, thinking that he would

keep the table in a roar. But it was not so. His stories fell somewhat

flat, and that damped his spirits and he subsided.

One of Hicks's earliest and best friends was George Wightwick, the

architect, born at Mold in Flintshire in 1802, who set up as architect

in Plymouth in 1829, and was employed to build additions to Bodmin

Gaol in 1842 and 1847. He was author of _The Palace of Architecture_,

published in 1840. And though he was an excellent _raconteur_, second

only to Hicks, he was a most egregiously bad architect. Yet, strangely

enough, Mr. Wightwick supposed himself to be enlightened in the matter

of Gothic architecture, and in 1835 published in _Loudon's

Architectural Magazine_ "A few observations on reviving taste for

pointed Architecture, with an illustrated description of a chapel just

erected at Bude Haven under the direction of the author."

Wightwick it was who had the merit of discovering Hicks and of

introducing him to notables in Devon and Cornwall, for, miserable

architect though he was, he had got the ear of the public in the West

as a man of charming manners and teeming with anecdote. Through him

Hicks obtained access into many a country house, where they would

sing, accompanying themselves on the violin, and tell stories.

Hicks was made Governor of Bodmin Asylum in 1848, and found the old

barbarous system of treatment of the insane in full swing. He at once

adopted gentle methods and in a short while radically changed the

entire mode of treatment, with markedly good results.

[Illustration: WILLIAM R. HICKS]

One poor fellow, whom he found chained in a dark cell on a bed of straw

as a dangerous lunatic, he nearly cured by kindly treatment. As the

fellow showed indications of great shrewdness and wit, Hicks released

him and made much of him. A gentleman on a visit to the asylum once said

to the lunatic, "I hear, man, that you are Hicks's fool."

"Aw," replied he; "I zee you do your awn business in that line."

He was once asked, "Whither does this path go, my man?" He answered

readily, "Zure I cannot tell 'ee. I've knawed un bide here these last

twenty year."

He was sitting on the high wall of the asylum that commanded the road

for some distance, with a turnpike at the bottom of the hill. The

company of a circus passed by, with the various horses. As the manager

rode past, the lunatic said to him, "'Ow much might 'ee pay turnpike

for they there spekkady hosses?" "Oh," said the manager, "the same as

for the others." "Do 'ee now?" said the man on the wall. "Well to be

zure; my vather 'ad a spekkady hoss that never paid no turnpike. They

there sparky (speckled) hosses don't pay no turnpikes here."

"Bless my life," said the manager; "I am much obliged to you for

informing me of the fact. So, sir, I am to understand that piebald

horses are exempt from paying at the toll-gate?"

"What I zed I bides by. They there spekkady hosses never pay no

turnpikes here in Cornwall. What they may do elsewhere, I can't zay."

The lunatic watched the cavalcade proceed down the hill, and when it

reached the turnpike, he enjoyed watching a lively altercation going

on between the toll-taker and the manager. Presently the latter came

galloping back, very hot and angry.

"What do you mean by telling me that in Cornwall piebald horses pay no

turnpike?"

"Right it is so--cos _you_ have to pay it vor 'un," said the man and

stepped out of reach inside the wall.

One day this same man was put to watch a raving maniac, who, for his

own safety, when the fit was on him, used to be put in a padded room.

There was an eyehole in the door, and the lunatic, whom Mr. Collier

calls Daniel, was set to watch him. The poor wretch in his ravings

called, "Bring down the baggonets! Oh, marcy on me! Forty thousand

Roosians! Oh! oh! oh! I wish I was in Abraham's bosom," and began to

kick and plunge furiously. On which Daniel shouted to him through the

hole, "Why I tell'ee if you was, you'd kick the guts out of 'un."

Daniel came from Tavistock, where he used to walk out with a girl. As

he told the story himself--"I was keepin' company with a maid, and I

went to the parson. Says I to he, 'I want you, however, to promise me

wan thing,' says I. 'What is it?' says he. 'I want you to promise me,'

says I, 'never to marry me to thickee there maid when I be drunk.' He

zaid he'd promise me that, quite sure. 'Thankee, your honour,' said I;

'then I'm all right, for I'll take damned good care you never do it

when I'm zober.'"

Daniel was then in the Volunteers and was out on Whitchurch Down in a

review. An officer rode up to the bugler, and said "Sound a retreat!"

The bugler tried, but could produce no sound. "Sound a retreat!" roared

the officer. Again the bugle would not speak. "Sound a retreat!" shouted

the officer for the third time. "Don't you see that the cavalry are

charging down on us?" "There now, I can't," replied the bugler; "for

why? I've gone and spit my quid of terbaccer in the mouthpiece o'un."

Hicks no doubt was quite justified in picking up and appropriating to

himself stories wherever he could find them and from whomsoever he

heard them. A common friend of ours was with him one day in Plymouth,

and as they sat on the Hoe my friend told Hicks a couple of racy

anecdotes about his own work.

That evening both dined with Lord Mount Edgcumbe, and Hicks told both

these stories with immense humour, as though they had happened

recently--the previous week--to himself.

And certainly some of Hicks's stories are very old chestnuts.

This, for instance, was told by Hicks as having to his knowledge

occurred to two brothers, Jemmy and Sammy, in the Jamaica Inn, on the

Bodmin Moors, between that town and Launceston.

They were to sleep in a double-bedded room, and they dined and drank

pretty freely--the Jamaica Inn is now a temperance house--and went to

bed. Before retiring to rest one of them put out the light.

After they had been in bed a little while Jemmy said, "I say, Sammy,

there be a feller in my bed."

_Sammy_--"So there be in mine."

_Jemmy_--"What shall you do, Sammy?"

_Sammy_--"Kick 'un out."

_Jemmy_--"So shall I."

So they both proceeded to kick furiously, with the result that each

fell out on the opposite side of the bed. By mistake in the dark the

last to put out the light and go to bed had entered his brother's bed.

I have heard the same tale told of the Yorkshire moors some thirty to

forty years ago.

The famous story of Rabbits and Onions, that Hicks would tell in such

a way as to bring the tears rolling down the cheeks with laughter, may

or may not be founded on fact, or it may be--and that is probably the

case--a condensation into one tale of a good deal of experience with

juries. But the same story is told by Rosegger of a trial in Styria.

The following is almost certainly genuine. Anyhow, it is an excellent

example of the way in which Hicks could put a story.

"I met a man [name given] in Bodmin, and said to him, 'You are not

looking well. What is the matter?'

"The man replied that he had spent an indifferent night.

"'How is that?' I inquired.

"'I sleep with father,' he replied; 'and I woke up all in the dead

waste and middle of the night, and I reached forth my hand and

couldn't feel nothing; so I ses, ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old

aged tender parent?" I got out of bed and strick a light, all in the

dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched the room; sarched

under the bed and in the cupboards; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor

dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down over the stairs, all in the dead waste and middle of the

night, and sarched under the stairs and in the kitchen; and ses I,

"Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'Then I went to the coal-hole, all in the dead waste and middle of

the night, and sarched all about; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear

old aged tender parent?"

"'And I went down into the garden, all in the dead waste and middle of

the night; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down to the parzley bed, all in the dead waste and middle of

the night, and there I found 'un. He'd a cut his throat with the

rape(ing)-hook. I took 'un by the hair of his head, and I zaid, ses I,

"You darned old grizzley blackguard, you've brought disgrace on the

family." I brought 'un in, and laid 'un on the table, and rinned for the

doctor; and he zewed up the throt o'un avore the vital spark was

'xtinct. Zo you zee, Mr. Hicks, I've had rather an indiffer'nt night.'"

Here is another of Hicks's stories:--

A young curate was teaching some boys in the Sunday-school, and was

impressing on them the duties to their parents.

"What do you owe your mother, Bill Lemon?"

"I don't owe her nothin'! her never lent me nothin'."

"But she takes care of you."

The boy stared.

"What does she do for you?"

"Her gives me a skat in the vace sometimes, and tells me to go

to"----(curate intervenes).

"That is not what I mean. When you are sick, what does she do?"

"Wipes it op."

Hicks, as already intimated, was a very short man, very rotund about

the belly. Following the Mayor of Bodmin into the room on the occasion

of a public dinner, he heard the Mayor announced in a voice of

thunder, "The Mayor of Bodmin." Following directly after he intimated

to the butler "and the Corporation." The man, without a moment's

consideration, roared out, "and the Corporation."

A man of Hicks's acquaintance--every man of whom he had a story to tell

was an acquaintance--made a bet that he would drink a certain number of

gallons of cider in a given time. The trial of the feat came off, and

the man was reduced to the last stage of helplessness, in an armchair,

his head resting on the back of the chair, his mouth open, utterly

unable to proceed, when he sighed out to his backers, "Try the taypot!"

The spout was used to pour down the liquor and the bet was won.

Hicks had a story of a farmer whom he knew intimately, and who had

been canvassed for the approaching election, and had promised his vote

to the lady of the candidate. Said she, "Dear Mr. Polkinghorne, when

you come up to town, do come and see us, come any time--come to

dinner. You are sure to be welcome."

Now, as it so fell out, Zechariah Polkinghorne did go to London on

some business, and in the evening, when his work was over, he called

at the member's house. As it happened that evening, a dinner party was

given. When his name was taken up, the member's wife said: "Good

gracious! What is to be done? We must, I suppose, have him in, or he

will be mortally offended, and next election will not only vote

against us, but influence a good many more voters."

So Mr. Polkinghorne was shown up into a room full of ladies and

gentlemen in evening dress, and felt somewhat out of it. Presently

dinner was announced and he went in with the rest and took his place

at the table.

"So sorry, Mr. Polkinghorne," said the lady of the house; "so sorry we

have no partner for you to take in; but, you see, you came

unexpectedly, and we had not time to invite a lady for you."

"Never mind, ma'am, never mind. It doth remind me o' my old sow to

home. Her had thirteen little piglings--zuckers--for a brood, and pore

thing had only twelve little contrivances for them to zuck to."

"What did the thirteenth do then, Mr. Polkinghorne?"

"Why, ma'am, thickey there little zucker was like me now--just out in

the cold."

[Illustration: WILLIAM R. HICKS OF BODMIN

_From a Caricature_]

Hicks was driving along a road in the dark one night when he came upon

an empty conveyance, and two men close to the hedge on the roadside.

One man was drunk--a Methodist class-leader--but the other was sober.

The drunken man was lamenting:--

"Ah, too bad! What shall I do when I be called to my last account?

What shall I zay?"

"Zay, Nathaniel?" the sober man said. "What can 'ee zay but that

you've been to Liskeard a auditing of accounts, and took an extra

glass? 'Twill be overlooked for once, sure enough, up there."

A day or so after Hicks met the sober man, and asked how Nathaniel had

got on that night.

The answer was: "He's a terrible affectionate man to his family, and

when we got home he took the babby out o' the cradle for to kiss 'un,

and valled vore with 'un over a vaggot of vurze. Jane, her got into a

passion and laid onto 'un with the broomstick, while he kep' tumblin'

over the babby. When I comed away her'd 'a thrashed 'un sober; and

they'd 'a got the babby on the dresser, naked, and was a-picking out

the prickles."

Hicks knew a man who was of a morose, fanatical humour; and this man

had married a widow with a brisk, merry wench for a daughter. Once he

reproved the girl for singing secular songs in this vale of woe, and

said to her: "Suppose you was took sudden, and called to your last

account with the _Soldier's Tear_ in your mouth?"

Another of his stories was of a chapel where they sang a Cornish

anthem; the females began--

Oh for a man! oh for a man! oh for a mansion in the sky!

To which the men, basses and tenors, responded--

Send down sal! send down sal! send down salvation from on high!

A boy at church--another of Hicks's anecdotes; he knew the boy

well--heard the parson give out the banns of "John So-and-so and Betsy

So-and-so, both of this parish. This is the third and last time of

asking."

"Mother," said the lad after service; "I shouldn't like it to be

proclaimed in church that sister Jane had been askin' for a husband

dree times afore her got one."

Again, another story told by Hicks:--

"Where be you a-bound to this afternoon?"

"Gwain to see the football match."

"Aw! Like to be a good un?"

"Yes, I reckon. There be a lot o' bitter feelin' betwixt the two teams."

But, indeed, the stories told by William Robert Hicks were many, and

for those who would desire more, let them get Mr. W. F. Collier's

_Tales and Sayings of W. R. Hicks_, Plymouth, Brendon and Son, 1893;

and look at "An Illustrious Obscure," by Abraham Hayward, Q.C., in the

_Morning Post_, 8th September, 1868; and J. C. Young's _Memoirs of C.

M. Young_, 1871, Vol. II, pp. 301-8.

Hicks died at Bodmin 5th September, 1868, at the age of sixty.

CAPTAIN TOBIAS MARTIN

Tobias Martin, better known as Cap'n Toby, was born in the parish of

Wendron on January 5th, 1747, and was the son of a father of the same

name, who was a common working miner, but afterwards was advanced to

be a mine agent, or captain of a mine, which situation he retained

during the remainder of his life.

The elder Cap'n Toby was passionately fond of reading, and read

promiscuously whatever came into his hand. But his main literary

passion was for poetry, and he speedily conceived that he possessed

the poetic _afflatus_, because he could string lines together that

rhymed more or less well. He went to a mine near Helston, but was

never in sufficiently good circumstances to be able to give his

children a moderate, let alone a superior education.

Tobias, his second son, inherited the father's love of reading and

liking for the Muse, and as a boy he bitterly lamented that he was not

sent to school.

Deprived through his father's poverty or negligence of the means of

education enjoyed by others, he resolved on supplying the deficiencies

of such instruction by self-application.

From an early age he was employed at the tin-stamping mills near

Helston and Redruth. After he became a man he worked underground on

his own account, i.e. in working setts that he had taken, and at other

times on what is termed among miners "tutwork and tribute."

He had a great ambition to learn French, and studied diligently a

French grammar that he found among his father's books; but, of course,

remained perfectly ignorant of the pronunciation, though able to write

a few sentences and read a book in that language.

Proud of the former capability, he composed some lines in French, or

what he supposed to be French, and wrote them on the belfry door. A Mr.

William Sandys, an attorney at Helston, happening to see these lines,

inquired who had written them, and when he learned that they were by

Toby Martin, he gave him a letter to a Mrs. Brown, who had resided some

time in France, and was believed to have the language at her tongue's

end, to this effect: "The Bearer, Tobias Martin, wishes to learn French,

but his pockets are low." From her Toby did receive some lessons.

Mr. Sandys occasionally employed him, as he could write well, to

assist in his office; he also appointed him toller of the dues

arriving from tin-bounds in Breage, belonging to the Praed family,

which appointment he held to the time of his death.

In 1772 he married Mary Peters, of Helston, and by her had ten children,

four sons and six daughters. In the same year, and, indeed, at the very

same time, Mr. Sandys offered him a situation as escort to his eldest

son, Mr. William Sandys, into France, where the latter was to remain so

as to acquire proficiency in the French language. And--what was somewhat

rough on Toby--he had to leave with his charge the day after his

marriage. The place chosen for William Sandys to acquire French was

singularly badly chosen: it was Painpol, in Brittany, where the natives

talk Breton, and what French they do speak is of an inferior quality and

very unlike that spoken in Paris or Touraine.

After having seen his charge safe to Painpol, Toby returned to Helston

and to his wife.

Next year (1773) in August Toby was despatched again to Painpol, this

time to bring young William home. On his return he set to work to

acquire the Dutch language and learn Latin; but, indeed, there was

scarcely a subject that did not attract him, and that he did not

strive to acquire some knowledge of. It was unfortunate for him that

his studies were so desultory, that he was "Jack of many trades and

master of none."

Some years after his return from France he was appointed captain at

Camborne Vean Mine. He also held the situation of managing agent of

Wheal Heriot's Foot, commonly called Herod's Foot, near Liskeard.

A story is told of him which Mr. Tregellas gives in his _Cornish

Character and Characteristics_ under a fictitious name. Captain Toby

was having his pint of ale at a tavern, when in comes a miner who was

wont to be called "Old Blowhard," and was not esteemed trusty or

diligent as a workman.

"How are 'ee, Capp'n?" says Bill.

"Clever. How art thee?"

"Purty well as for health," says Bill, "but I want a job. Can 'ee give

us waun ovver to your new bal?"

"No, we're full," replied the Captain.

"How many men have 'ee goat ovver theere?" asked Old Blowhard.

"How many? Why we've two sinking a air-shaft through the flockan, and

two to taakle, and that's fower; and theere's two men in the oddit,

and a booay to car tools and that, and that makes three moore, and

that oaltogether es seben."

"And how many cappuns have 'ee goat?" said Bill.

"How many? Why ten."

"What! ten cappuns to watch over seben men? I doan't b'lieve you can

maake that out, for the 'venturers would'n stand it."

"'Tes zackly so then, and I'll maak it out to 'ee in a moment. Waun

cappun es 'nough we oal knaw, but at the laast mittin, the 'venturers

purposed to have waun of the 'venturers' sons maade a cappun, and to

larn, they said; and so a draaper's son, called Sems, was put weth me

from school, at six pound a month, and a shaare of what we had in the

'count-house."

"Well, but how can you maake ten of you and he?"

"Why, I'll tell 'ee how, and you mind 'nother time, Bill, for theere's

somethin' of scholarin' in ut. Now see this: I myself am waun, baent I?"

"Iss, sure," said Bill.

"Well, and theest oft to knaw that young Sems es nawthin'; well, when

theest ben to school so long as I have, theest knaw that waun with a

nought attached to un do maake 10, and so 'tes zackly like that."

In the year 1790 Toby's wife died, and he was left with all his ten

children on his hands. One of these soon died, and he sent for the

sexton, who, after having been regaled with liquor, declared with

gushing emotion, "Lor' bless ee, Cap'n Toby, I'd as soon deg a grave

for 'ee as for any man with whom I be acquainted." In 1792 he married

Ann James, a widow, who kept a small public-house at Porthleven, and

by her had four children, two sons and two daughters.

A short time after his marriage he took the Horse and Jockey Tavern in

Helston, which he kept for four years, and then the "Helston Arms," of

which he was host for five more. He still retained his situation of

mine-agent in Wheal Ann tin mine in Wendron, about two and a half miles

from Helston, where, on quitting the last-mentioned inn, and after the

mine had failed, he lived for some years as captain of Wheal Trevenen,

which was run by a company, but the smelting was consigned to a

speculator of Truro named Daubuz,[34] who had with him one Coad as a

clerk. After a while Martin supposed that Daubuz was swindling the

company, and about the same time Coad quarrelled with Daubuz, and

pretended to reveal how he had been cheating; thereupon the Adventurers

set up their own smelting works. Martin's account of Daubuz must not be

accepted as true. He wrote full of vindictive hate. Anyhow, a

misunderstanding arose between him and the company respecting his

accounts. The Adventurers debited him with a large sum, which ought to

have been and was afterwards charged to the purser. In September, 1811,

at a general meeting of the Adventurers, a Mr. Wyatt, auditor of the

accounts, accused Captain Toby of having falsified his books. This he

stoutly denied, and insisted that his accounts were correct. In

November, 1811, he received his dismissal, not as having acted

fraudulently, but on the plea that he was too old and past work. He was

discharged accordingly in his sixty-second year, and he applied for and

got work at other mines. A year passed before Captain Toby could have

his accounts investigated, and then he received from the purser a copy

of an account, wherein a balance of £109 6s. 6d. appeared against him.

To this he objected, and a dispute arose that lasted some time.

On February 1st, 1812, he was arrested for debt, and confined in the

sheriff's ward at Bodmin for over two months before an accommodation

was arrived at, and he was discharged.

As he could not get Mr. Wyatt to have the accounts inspected, for he

proved shifty, Captain Toby was obliged to appeal to the Vice-Warden

of the Stannaries to issue an order for the investigation of the

accounts. This alarmed Wyatt, and it was mutually agreed that they

should be gone through by Mr. Richard Tyacke, of Godolphin. Mr. Tyacke

in a very short time found that the balance against Martin was only

£29 18s. 4d., and that then there was owing to him from the company

nearly a twelvemonth's wage. He accordingly in February, 1813,

published the following notice:--

"_To the Public._

"Having been requested to examine some disputed accounts between

Trevenen Adventurers and Captain Tobias Martin, I find from

investigation that the errors in dispute were _not_ contained in

his account, but in those prepared against him.

"RICHARD TYACKE."

After this he received from the company the balance of his salary, and

that put an end to the business. His connection with Wheal Trevenen

having ceased, he worked at Wheal Vorah as captain to 1817, when he

was in his sixty-ninth year. Then he was appointed storekeeper to the

mine and to keep the stock accounts at six guineas per month; and this

situation he filled till March, 1817, when in his seventy-ninth year

he was superannuated at three and a half guineas per month.

On June 4th, 1825, his wife died, and not long after he received the

news of the death of his eldest son, Tobias, under tragical

circumstances, at Washington, U.S.A. The younger Tobias and his wife

had a daughter, a child who went gathering fruit in the hedges of some

land belonging to a rough fellow, who finding her there, carried away

her basket and took as well some of her wearing apparel. When Tobias

Martin the younger heard of this he and his wife went to remonstrate

and ask for the return of the basket and the garments. An altercation

ensued, and the man of whom they complained with his revolver shot

Tobias Martin dead.

This shock broke down the old captain. He had always loved his glass,

but now he took to it more freely than ever, and was often intoxicated.

He died on April 9th, 1828, in the eighty-first year of his age, and

he was buried in Breage churchyard.

Captain Tobias Martin's poems were published at Helston in 1831, and a

second edition in 1856. They are absolutely worthless as poetry, and one

may look in vain through them to find an original or a poetic idea. But

as we have given this man's life, a specimen of the stuff he wrote must

also be given, and one of his shortest compositions will suffice.

Come, sweet content! best gift of bounteous heav'n,

Correct my mind and bend my stubborn ways;

'Tis thou alone canst make life's journey even,

And crown with happiness my future days.

Why should I grieve or murmur at my lot?

Why disobedient to the heav'nly will?

I cannot turn my thoughts where God is not,

He is my comfort and my refuge still.

Blest with content, I will observe His ways;

On earth I can no greater blessing find.

Serene and calm, thus let me spend my days,

And banish discontentment from my mind.

In his religious views Toby Martin was a Deist or Unitarian. In

personal appearance he was inclined to corpulency. His countenance was

large and open, and he stood five feet nine inches high.

FOOTNOTE:

[34] He calls Daubuz a Jew. The first Daubuz to settle at Truro was a

Moses. But the family claims Huguenot extraction.

THE MAYOR OF BODMIN

When Henry VIII died, Edward VI was aged but ten, and the unprincipled

Protector Somerset took the reins of power into his own hands; and as

he was a strong partisan of the reformers, and enriched himself on the

plunder of the Church, he carried out what he considered to be reforms

with a high hand, with the assistance of the Council, which was filled

with creatures equally rapacious and equally devoid of principle. As

the monasteries had all been suppressed, and the monks and nuns turned

adrift, these poor homeless wretches wandered over the country

entreating alms. In November, 1548, an Act was passed ordering all

such to be branded on the hand, and on repetition of the offence to be

adjudged to slavery.

The baneful effects of the dissolution of the monasteries had,

moreover, been severely felt by the people, for the monks had been

ever ready to afford shelter and relief in sickness or distress, and

the indigent were now driven to frightful extremities throughout the

land, much as would be the case nowadays were the workhouses and poor

laws to be abolished. The monks, moreover, had been most kind and

considerate landlords, and, always residing in their monasteries, what

money they drew in rents from their tenants was spent on the land. But

no sooner were the rapacious hands of the nobles laid on the property

of the Church, than these new proprietors demanded exorbitant rents,

and very generally spent the money in London. The cottagers were

reduced to misery by the enclosure of the commons on which they had

formerly fed their cattle.

Added to all this came violent changes in the services of the Church.

Candles were forbidden to be carried on Candlemas Day, ashes to be

used on Ash Wednesday, and palms on Palm Sunday; all images were to be

removed from the churches, and even the sacred form of the Redeemer on

the Cross above the rood was not respected.

Several of the bishops objected to these proceedings, but Somerset was

inexorable. Then several colleges, chantries, and free chapels, as

well as fraternities and guilds, were abolished, and their lands and

goods confiscated to the King, which, being sold at very small prices,

enriched many of the Protestant hangers-on of the Court, and

strengthened their resolution to maintain the changes.

These violent and hasty proceedings provoked widespread discontent and

even exasperation. The first disturbances arose in the county of

Cornwall, where one Body, a commissioner sent down to "purify" the

churches, was stabbed in the back whilst pulling down images in a

church.[35] Thence they quickly spread into the counties of Devon,

Wilts, Somerset, Hants, Sussex, Kent, Essex, Gloucester, Hereford,

Worcester, Leicester, Oxford, Norfolk, and York. In most parts the

rioters were quickly put down, but the disorders in Devonshire and

Norfolk threatened more dangerous consequences (1549). The commotion

first broke out at Sampford Courtenay on Whit Monday, the day after

the Act for reforming the Church Service had been put in force. The

people assembled and forced the priest to say Mass in the ancient

manner, instead of using the Book of Common Prayer. The commotion

spread through the adjoining parishes, and many came up out of

Cornwall; many of the disaffected gentry of the two counties placed

themselves at the head of the insurgents; among them were Sir Thomas

Pomeroy, Mr. Coffin, and Mr. Humphry Arundell, and the body swelled to

10,000 men. They then laid siege to Exeter, but the citizens shut

their gates against them. Some attempts were made to scale the walls,

which being repulsed, the rebels endeavoured to gain admittance by

burning the gates. The citizens, by adding more wood to the fires,

kept the enemy back till they had raised fresh defences within. After

this the insurgents sought to effect a breach by mining the walls.

Having completed their mine, laid their powder, and rammed the mouth,

before they could explode it the citizens had drenched the powder by

means of a countermine filled with water.

Lord Russell, glutted with the plunder of the Church, was sent to

relieve the city, but the rebels cut down trees and laid them in his

way, so that he could not approach, and after burning some villages he

determined on withdrawing to Honiton. He now found his retreat cut off,

and he was constrained to give battle on Clyst Heath, and defeated them

with great slaughter, killing 600 men. "Such was the valour and

stoutness of these men," says Hooker, "that the Lord Grey reported

himself that he never, in all the wars that he had been in, did know the

like." The ringleaders were taken and executed. The vicar of S. Thomas

by Exeter, who was with them, was conveyed to his church and hanged

from the tower, where his body was left to dangle for four years.

The defeat was on the 7th August, and the rebels were pursued to

Launceston, every one falling into the hands of the King's troops being

put to death. Arundell and other gentlemen were, however, taken

prisoners. The Lords of the Council wrote to Lord Russell on the 21st

August congratulating him on his success, and directing him to search

for Sir Thomas Pomeroy, and to "send up Sir Humphry Arundell, Maunder,

and the Mayor of Bodmin, and two or three of the rankest traitors." They

desired him to delay a short time the issue of a general pardon. In the

same month Lord Russell, William, Lord Grey of Wilton, and Sir William

Herbert, informed the Council that they sent up Pomeroy, Arundell, and

other prisoners; and they observed that Castle, Arundell's secretary,

went up not as a prisoner, but as an accuser of his former employer.

Nicholas Boyer, the Mayor of Bodmin, had escaped capture. But the King's

army pursued the dispersed Cornishmen into the duchy; and Sir Anthony

Kingston, Provost-Marshal, arrived at Bodmin, where the Mayor was snugly

ensconced in his house, and congratulating himself on his escape,

trusted that it was not known that he had taken part in the rising.

No sooner was Sir Anthony in the town than he wrote to Boyer, announcing

his intention of dining with him on a certain day. The Mayor felt highly

honoured at such a mark of confidence and condescension, and made great

preparations, brought out his best plate and linen and wine, and ordered

pasties and siskins and dainty cates of all kinds to be prepared in his

kitchen, so as to receive his guest with becoming hospitality.

A little before dinner the Provost took him aside and whispered in his

ear that execution must that day be done in the town, and nowhere so

suitably as in the street in front of Boyer's door, and he desired

that a gallows might be erected by the time the dinner was ended. The

Mayor complied with the request, and during the meal the hammering of

the carpenters could be heard. The Provost was cheery and jocose, and

if Boyer had been nervous at first, this wore off under the friendly

conversation of his guest.

When dinner was concluded, Sir Anthony asked if the little job he had

ordered had been carried out, and when Boyer assured him that it was

so, "I pray you," said the Provost, "bring me to the place." Thereupon

he took the Mayor by the hand and led him forth before his door, in

the kindliest manner imaginable.

On seeing the gallows, the Provost asked Boyer whether he thought them

strong enough to sustain the weight of a stout man. "Aye," replied the

Mayor; "doubtless they be so."

"Well, then," said the Provost, "get up speedily, for they are

prepared for you."

"I hope," exclaimed the astonished and disconcerted Mayor, "that you

mean not what you speak."

"In very faith," said Sir Anthony Kingston, "there is no remedy, for

you have been a busy rebel."

And so, without trial or defence, he was hanged before his own door by

the man who had just dined at his table.

Sir John Hayward, who relates this incident, tells also the story of a

miller who resided near Bodmin. This man had been a "busy rebel," and

fearing the wrath of the Provost-Marshal, he told a "sturdy, tall

fellow, his servant," that he had occasion to go from home, and that

if any one should inquire for the miller, the fellow should affirm

that he was the man, and that he had been so for three years. The

Provost came to the mill and inquired for the miller, and the servant

at once presented himself as such. The Provost inquired how long he

had kept the mill. "These three years," answered the servant.

"String him up on the nearest tree!" ordered Sir Anthony.

The fellow then cried out that he was not the miller, but the miller's

man. "Nay, sir," said the Provost, "I will take thee at thy word; and if

thou beest the miller, thou art a busy knave; if thou beest not, thou

art a false lying knave; whatsoever thou art, thou shalt be hanged."

When others told him that the man was in reality only the miller's

servant, the Provost replied, "Could he ever have done his master a

better service than to hang in his stead?" and so he was despatched.

Hals says: "Mayow, of Cleoyan, in S. Columb Major, was hanged at a

tavern signpost in that town, of whom tradition says his crime was not

capital; and therefore his wife was advised by her friends to hasten

to the town after the Marshal and his men, who had him in custody, and

beg for his life, which accordingly she prepared to do. And to render

herself the more amiable petitioner before the Marshal's eyes, this

dame spent so much time in attiring herself, and putting on her French

hood, then in fashion, that her husband was put to death before her

arrival. In like manner the Marshal hanged John Payne, the mayor or

portreeve of St. Ives, on a gallows erected in the middle of that

town, whose arms are still to be seen in one of the fore seats in that

church, viz. in a plain field, three pineapples."

Humphry Arundell, who had headed the rebels, was the son of Roger

Arundell, of Helland, and he had been appointed Governor of S. Michael's

Mount in 1539. He had married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Fulford.

After his capture he was taken up to London, confined in the Tower, and

hanged at Tyburn, 27th January, 1549-50. Sir Thomas Pomeroy, of Berry

Pomeroy, managed to save his life, but suffered severely in his estate.

He married Jane, daughter of Sir Piers Edgcumbe, of Cothele.

Strype tells us that "when this rebellion was well allayed, it was

remembered how the bells in the churches served, by ringing, to summon

and call in the disaffected unto their arms. Therefore, in September,

an order was sent down from the Council to the Lord Russell, to

execute a work that proved no doubt highly disgustful to the people,

viz. to take away all the bells in Devonshire and Cornwall, leaving

only one in each steeple, which was to call the people to church. And

this partly to prevent the like insurrection for the future, and

partly to help to defray the charges the King had been at among them."

Strype adds that "two gentlemen of those parts, Champion (Champernon)

and (Sir John) Chichester, assistant perhaps against the rebels, took

this opportunity to get themselves rewarded, by begging, not the

bells, but the bell-clappers only, which was granted them, with the

ironwork and furniture thereunto belonging. And no question they made

good benefit thereof."

FOOTNOTE:

[35] The murderer was William Kilter, priest of S. Keverne, and he

killed William Body, the lessee of the archdeaconry of Cornwall, in

Helston Church as he was engaged in smashing the images, 5th April,

1548. For this he was hanged, drawn, and quartered, 7th July, 1548.

JOHN NICHOLS TOM,

_alias_ SIR WILLIAM COURTENAY, K.M.

This strange man was the son of William Tom, landlord of the "Joiners'

Arms," S. Columb, and of his wife Charity Bray--"Cracked Charity" was

the nickname she bore--who died in the County Lunatic Asylum, and it

was from his mother that the subject of this memoir derived the bee

that was in his bonnet.

John Nichols was born at S. Columb Major on November 10th, 1799, and

he owed his name to a kinsman of his mother--his godfather, a

well-to-do-farmer, who was unmarried.

At an early age John Nichols Tom showed a mischievous disposition. He

was turned out of the dame's school at which he had been placed for

cutting off the whiskers of her favourite cat. At the next school where

he was placed he exhibited the characteristic vanity that was a leading

feature through life. He liked to be thought to know more than any of

his fellow pupils. One day he propounded to them the question:--

"Who is Neptune? I bet none of you know."

"Neptune," replied one urchin, "is my father's Newfoundland dog."

"Then who is Venus?"

"She is mother's spaniel bitch," answered one of the boys.

John Nichols in a fury fell on both with his fists.

"No such thing. Neptune is a god, and Venus is a goddess."

A general fray was the result, out of which our hero came mauled.

When it became time for him to strike out a course in life, he was

placed in an attorney's office, and he conducted himself there well.

A fire broke out on the premises of the elder Tom and consumed the

house. This occasioned Mrs. Tom to sink into a condition of profound

melancholy, and she rapidly became so wholly insane that she had to be

confined in an asylum, where some years later she died, and then Mr.

Tom married a schoolmistress who lived on the other side of the road.

This did not please John Nichols, and he quitted the attorney's office

and was placed in the firm of Plumer and Turner, wine merchants and

maltsters at Truro, as cellarman. After five years' service the firm

came to an end, and Tom then began to trade on his own account. He

married Catherine, second daughter of a Mr. Philpot, of Truro, whose

elder sister Julia was engaged to a Mr. Hugo. Tom moved into his

father-in-law's house, which was old and dilapidated, and rebuilt it

as a commodious mansion, with spacious premises in its rear for the

carrying on of the business of a maltster. But on a sudden a fire

broke out in this newly-constructed malt-house, and speedily consumed

all that had been built for his business. Folk naturally concluded

that, as Tom had recently had some losses, he had set fire to his

premises, that were insured for £3000, and they remembered that his

father's house had also been insured and been burnt down. But Tom

demanded that a most searching inquiry should be made as to the cause

of the fire, and the insurance company, satisfying itself that it

was accidental, paid the sum without demur. With the money thus

received he rebuilt his premises, and continued the business. Those

who saw much of him were convinced that, as they termed it, "there was

a screw loose somewhere." He affected an unusual dress, and tried to

induce his wife to assume a habit that would have caused her to be

mobbed in the streets. He moreover became great as an orator,

denouncing the Church, the aristocracy, and all organized governments.

In a word, he was a Socialist of the day.

[Illustration: JOHN THOMAS, OTHERWISE SIR WILLIAM COURTENAY, WHO SHOT

LIEUTENANT BENNET IN BASENDEN WOOD, BOUGHTON, NEAR CANTERBURY, AND THE

CONSTABLE MEARS, ON THURSDAY, MAY 31ST, 1838]

Two years later he made a considerable sum of money by a successful

venture in malt at Liverpool. The result of the transaction may be

gathered from the following letter which he wrote to his wife, and

which was the last she ever received from him:--

"LIVERPOOL, _May 3, 1832_.

"MY DEAR WIFE,

"I merely wish to inform you that I have just discharged the

vessel of the malt, which has given every satisfaction to the

purchasers. The measurement has exceeded my expectations by

twenty-four Winchesters. There are the malt sacks in the vessel,

and also half a bushel of the bottom scrapings; this you will get

screened immediately. I am well and in good spirits (thank God for

it). As I shall write to you again in a day or two, my letter will

be short. The letter you will receive by post shall contain all I

have to say, and as it will be subsequent to this I need not

prolong. I have paid the captain of the vessel all the freight.

"With the kindest regards to all,

"I remain, yours affectionately,

"JOHN NICHOLS TOM."

The letter was rational enough, but it was the last rational act he

committed, as this also was the last time that he signed his name as

above.

For some time his imagination had been influenced by stories that

circulated relative to Lady Hester Stanhope, the "Queen of Lebanon," of

her wealth, her authority over Arabs and Druses, of her prophecies and

expectations of the near coming of the Messiah to institute the

millennium; and he felt convinced that he was predestined to be the

forerunner or herald to announce the coming advent of Christ. He had

read a translation of Lamartine's _Travels in the East_, in which it was

stated that, according to Eastern prophecy, the Messiah would ride into

Jerusalem on a mare foaled ready saddled, and that Lady Hester had such

a mare ready for the advent of the Prince of Peace. "Since destiny,"

said Lady Hester to Lamartine, "has sent you hither--permit me to

confide to you what I have hitherto concealed from so many of the

profane. Come, and you shall see with your own eyes a prodigy of Nature,

the destination of which is known only to myself and my immediate

votaries. The prophets of the East have announced it centuries ago, and

yourself shall be judge if a part of those prophecies have not been

accomplished." Lamartine goes on to say: "She opened a gate of the

garden which led into a smaller inner court, where I perceived two

magnificent Arab mares of the finest blood, and of the most symmetrical

form. 'Approach,' said she to me, 'and examine that bay mare: see if

Nature hath not accomplished in her everything which is written about

the mare that is to carry the Messiah--_she was foaled_ ready saddled!'

"I saw, in fact, in this beautiful animal a freak of nature. The mare

had, in the place of the shoulders, a cavity so broad and deep, and

imitating so well the form of a Turkish saddle, that it might be said

with truth that she was foaled ready saddled, and but for the want of

stirrups she might have been mounted without experiencing the want of

an artificial saddle."

This account that John Tom had read of Lady Hester made the most

profound impression on his mind, and inflated as he was with

self-conceit and ambition, he conceived that he was called to take a

place beside, if not before, Lady Hester, as a herald of Christ.

Accordingly, having his pocket full of money from the sale of his

malt, he started for Havre, and thence for Constantinople and Syria.

For what follows, till his reappearance in England in December of the

same year, 1832, our sole authority is "Canterburiensis," who wrote

Tom's life, but who does not tell us what were his authorities, and

who certainly so embroidered some of the facts he relates, that in

instances we feel uncertain whether they are facts or fables.

According to this authority he arrived at Beirout, at what date we are

not informed, and he at once presented himself before the English

consul, under the assumed name of Sir William Courtenay, Knight, and

requested an escort to the Lebanon, where he desired to see Hester

Stanhope, and acquaint her with the fact that he was the forerunner of

the expected Messiah. The consul saw that the man was not wholly sane,

and he was in a dilemma what to do with him; finally he concluded that

it would not be unwise to send one mad head to the other, and see what

would be the result. Accordingly he gave Sir William, as we must now

call him, an escort and he departed for her Lebanon residence, at

Dgioun.

"On arriving at the principal entrance, Sir William sent forward his

dragoman to announce to the slave, who was standing at the door, that

a person of consequence, on a mission of high import, requested an

interview with Lady Hester Stanhope. Sir William and the dragoman were

accordingly conducted into a narrow cell, deprived almost of all

light, and almost destitute of furniture; here they were ordered to

wait, until the pleasure of her ladyship should be known. After

waiting full three hours in the most suffocating heat, the slave

returned with a rather peremptory message, demanding, on the part of

her ladyship, to know who and what the stranger was who had solicited

an interview with her. Sir William wrote with his pencil, that he had

travelled from the County of Cornwall to announce to the expectant

faithful in the East the approaching advent of the Messiah, and that

as her ladyship had established herself in the Holy Land for the

direct purpose of awaiting that glorious event, which was so near at

hand, he considered that he was acting in conformity with the high

destiny that was awarded to him to communicate to her ladyship in

person the arrival of the Millennium, that she might co-operate with

him in spreading the glad tidings throughout the Holy Land, and

acknowledge him as the harbinger of the great event.

"Fully satisfied that Lady Hester Stanhope would in a short time rush

into his arms and hail him as the accredited messenger of Heaven, Sir

William felt not the torrid heat, but stood in dignified complacency

with himself, proudly awaiting the result of his message. In a very

short time the slave returned, followed by several others, and it

would be a difficult task to describe the astonishment and indignation

of Sir William when he was informed that it was the decided opinion of

her ladyship that he was an impostor, for that not one of the

prophecies had been as yet fulfilled, which were to precede the

coming of the Messiah, nor in any one of those prophecies was the

slightest mention made of a messenger being appointed to announce His

coming, and that accordingly the sooner he returned to his native

country, the better it would be for him."

In a word, Sir William was detected, without having been seen, as an

impostor, and was ejected from the house as such.

We should greatly like to know how much of this is true. Not only are no

dates given, but the name of the consul at Beirout is also withheld.

Nothing remained for Sir William Courtenay to do but to retire

discomfited to England, and try there whether he would have better luck.

He embarked in a ship of Beirout for Malta, and after a residence of

about three weeks in that island, sailed for England and arrived safely

in London. The first intimation that he was back, received in Cornwall,

was that he had assumed the name and title of Sir William Percy

Honeywood Courtenay, Knight of Malta, King of Jerusalem, and Prince of

Abyssinia, and that he had presented himself before the electors of

Canterbury to contest that borough, in December, 1832.

He had taken up his residence at the Rose Hotel, Canterbury, where his

dignified manners, his rich dress, his professions that he was the

rightful owner of the estates of the Earl of Devon, and that he

intended to establish his claims to them, his assertion that he was

not only Knight of Malta but also _de jure_ King of Jerusalem, imposed

on so many of the burgesses of Canterbury that he polled 375 votes;

but was unsuccessful, as the opponent candidates, the Honourable R.

Watson and Lord Fordwick gained respectively 832 and 802.

After his defeat Tom made a circuit through the towns and villages of

Kent, declaiming against the poor laws, the revenue laws, and such

other portions of the statutes of the realm as might be considered by

the poor to be adverse to their interests. By his speeches he obtained

great success, and a sort of periodical that he issued, entitled _The

Lion_, was greedily bought and distributed. But it ran through eight

numbers only. The full title was "The Lion. The British Lion will be

free. Heaven is his throne and earth is his footstool. He spake and it

was done, he commanded and it stood fast. Liberty, truth bears off the

victory, independence."

He then started for Devonshire, accompanied by a gentleman who so

firmly believed in his pretensions that he defrayed his expenses to

the amount of a thousand pounds. This man, Mr. George Denne, and a

young surgeon named Robinson were completely duped by him. "My dearest

George," said the Knight of Malta to the former, "it may please Heaven

to take me in a short time from this sphere of my sublunary greatness,

to translate me to the beatitude of another world."

"I hope not, Sir William," said George Denne.

"But," continued Sir William, "I shall carry with me the pleasing

satisfaction of having provided in a truly princely manner for those

who, whilst I was on earth, had the sense and sagacity to see into the

nobility of my character, and to acknowledge me as Lord Viscount William

Courtenay, of Powderham Castle, Knight of Malta, King of Jerusalem,

Prince of Arabia, King of the Gypsies, and all the other honours and

titles which by descent or creation belong to me. To you, therefore,

George Denne, I bequeath the Hales' estate, with the proviso that you

erect a monument on the highest ground on that estate to the memory of

me, the great Lord of Devon, the regenerator of the world, and one of

the greatest benefactors whom the human race ever saw."

In like manner he bequeathed to Mr. Robinson the whole of Powderham

Castle and all its valuable paintings, together with one-half of the

lands belonging to the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury Cathedral.

It will hardly be credited to what an extent he was run after at

Canterbury. Professional men, such as physicians, surgeons, solicitors,

also gentlemen of independent property and tradesmen of the first

respectability, were his staunch supporters, and daily invited him to

their table, and introduced him to the bosom of their families. The

invitations which he received to dinners, teas, and suppers were so

numerous that he was known to attend several parties in a few hours.

Mothers with marriageable daughters hunted him in packs.

But--it was asked--why did not Sir William take possession of his

extensive estates in Devon? It was to do this that he started,

attended by his faithful squire, Mr. George Denne. On reaching

Exmouth, Sir William despatched his squire to the authorities of the

place to announce his arrival, and that as Lord of Devon and King of

Jerusalem he would hold a levee at eight o'clock in the evening, at

which he would be ready to receive them and lay before them his right

and title to Powderham Castle and the estates belonging to it.

But when the hour of the levee arrived only one man appeared, and that

was the steward of the Earl of Devon, who came very bluntly to inform

him that should he venture to set foot within the private grounds of

Powderham Castle he would be prosecuted for trespass.

Next day Sir William repaired to the newspaper office at Exmouth, and

drew up an advertisement, purporting to be an announcement of the

arrival of the rightful Earl of Devon for the purpose of taking

possession of Powderham Castle, and a statement to the effect that he

was now recalled to the metropolis to appear before the House of Lords

to substantiate his claim. The editor laughed in his face, refused to

insert what was handed over to him, and tore it to shreds.

Full of wrath, Sir William shook off the dust from his feet as a

testimony against Exmouth, and departed for London, where he remained

two or three days, and then returned to Canterbury.

There he speedily involved himself in difficulties by his exertions in

favour of some smugglers. An action had taken place in July, 1833,

between the revenue cutter _Lively_ and the _Admiral Hood_, smuggler,

near Goodwin Sands, and in the course of the flight of the latter

vessel her crew were observed to throw overboard a great number of

tubs, which on being picked up proved to contain spirits. The _Admiral

Hood_ was captured, but no contraband goods were found on board; and

on the men being taken into custody, Tom presented himself as a

witness before the magistrates, and swore most positively that he had

seen the whole affair, and that no tubs had been thrown from the

_Admiral Hood_; he further stated that he had observed those which had

been picked up by the revenue officers floating about on the water

many hours before the _Admiral Hood_ came near the Goodwins. This was

so diametrically opposed to the truth that a prosecution for perjury

was resolved on, and he was indicted at the Maidstone Assizes on July

25th, 1833. It was then proved that Sir William, on the very day on

which the action had taken place, Sunday, the 17th February, had been

twenty-five miles distant at Boughton-under-Blean, near Canterbury,

and at the very hour of the action had been at church there. A verdict

of conviction followed, and Mr. Justice Park, the presiding judge,

passed a sentence of imprisonment for three months, to be followed by

seven years of transportation beyond the seas.

This having reached the ears of his relations in Cornwall,

representations were made by them to the Home Secretary that he was

insane, and he was transferred to a lunatic asylum at Barming Heath,

where he remained for four years, but whence he still issued addresses

to his adherents in Canterbury and interfered in the election of

councillors. There he remained for five years, and then a determined

effort was made by his father and friends, and by Sir Hussey Brian, to

obtain his liberation, and Lord John Russell ordered his liberation.

This was an electioneering manœuvre, and Lord John had some difficulty

in justifying his conduct in the House when later taken to task for

having set this madman free.

On quitting the asylum, Tom hoped to take up his residence with a Mr.

G. Francis, with whom he had been on terms of intimacy before. But Mr.

Francis was by this time disillusioned, and when the Knight of Malta

presented himself before him armed with a new pair of pistols, he

remonstrated with him, and ordered him to quit the house; when he went

to a cottage hard by occupied by one Wills, who was completely the

dupe of Tom, and a passionate agitator. Then he went to Bossenden Farm

occupied by a person named Culver. He gave out that he was the true

proprietor of many of the finest estates in Kent, but that he would

not enter into possession for two years. In addition to his living

upon and amongst the farmers, he induced many of them to give him

large sums of money, promising that for every shilling lent he would

return a pound; and that, when he was in full possession of his

estates, all his followers should have land free from rent according

to their deserts. These promises made many dupes, and enabled him to

indulge in luxuries which excited the astonishment of those not

acquainted with his resources, and made many believe that he was what

he pretended to be--really a nobleman of large property. To keep up

this notion he made presents to various individuals; thus, to a fellow

who had been prosecuted by the Revenue, Courtenay gave two horses

worth £40. He was fond of displaying himself in fantastic dresses; he

allowed his hair and beard, that was coal-black, to grow long; and he

taught his followers to roar his battle song, of which only a few

verses can be given here:--

Hark! old England's pris'ners' groan--

'Tis a deep and mournful tone--

From oppression to be free,

And enjoy true liberty.

_Chorus._

Britons must be--will be free;

Truth bears off the victory!

Lo! deliverance is at hand;

Courtenay's made a noble stand;

He the tyrants has arous'd--

He has freedom's cause espous'd,

Britons must be, etc.

Courtenay's cause is good, is just,

Safely we in him may trust:

Truth and virtue's on his side,

We will still in him confide.

Britons must be, etc.

Men and devils still may rage,

Their united powers engage--

Infidelity shall fall,

Christ shall then be all in all.

Britons must be, etc.

Slav'ry's chains shall then be broke,

We shall soon cast off the yoke,

Independence is our right,

Victory soon shall crown the fight.

Britons must be, etc.

Corp'rate bodies then shall cease,

They're destruction to our peace;

Party spirit shall no more

Tyrannize with lawless pow'r.

Britons must be, etc.

Then, when victory's palm is won,

Glorious as the summer sun,

Shall Lord Courtenay's cause arise,

Showing forth in cloudless skies.

Britons must be, etc.

Harrison Ainsworth, who has introduced Courtenay into his novel

_Rookwood_, thus accurately describes him: "A magnificent coal-black

beard decorated the chin of this worthy; but this was not all--his

costume was in perfect keeping with his beard, and consisted of a very

theatrical-looking suit, upon the breast of which was embroidered in

gold wire the Maltese cross; while on his shoulders were thrown the

ample folds of a cloak of Tyrian hue. To his side was girt a long and

doughty sword, which he termed, in his knightly phrase, Excalibur; and

upon his profuse hair rested a hat as broad in the brim as a Spanish

sombrero. Exaggerated as this description may appear, we can assure

our readers that it is not overdrawn."

He now resumed his rambles round Kent, and visited the cottages wherever

he went, giving himself out to be Jesus Christ come back on earth to

sift the wheat from the chaff before setting up his millennial kingdom.

He showed his hands and feet and side marked with red--but there must

have been conscious fraud on his part, for after his death no such scars

could be found. Many of the poor and ignorant believed in him and

followed him. His head-quarters were for a while the house of one of his

most devoted followers named Wills, but he presently left that and

removed to a farmhouse at Boughton, where lived a farmer called Culver,

who was also a believer. He infatuated the women even more than the men,

for he was tall, dark, and handsome, and they took up his cause

passionately, and urged their husbands and fathers to follow him,

"because he was the very Christ, and unless they adhered to him fire

would come down from Heaven and consume them."

Instances occurred, and that by no means infrequently, in which he

presented himself to be worshipped as God by the ignorant peasantry.

At length this excitement was destined to be brought to a conclusion.

On Monday, May 28th, 1838, Tom, with about fifteen followers, sallied

forth from the village of Boughton without having any very distinct

object in view, and proceeded to the cottage of Wills. Here they

formed in column; and a loaf having been procured it was placed at the

top of a pole, which bore a flag of blue and white, upon which a lion

rampant was drawn. Wills having joined them, they marched to

Goodrestone, near Faversham; and on the way Tom harangued the country

people, who came out into the roads. From thence they went to a farm

at Herne Hill, where they received food, and then on to Dargate

Common. Here, by Tom's orders, all prayed. After this they proceeded

to Bossenden Farm, where they rested for the night in a barn.

At three o'clock on Tuesday morning they went to Sittingbourne, and

there Tom provided them with breakfast, for which he paid twenty-seven

shillings. Thence they marched to Newnham, where, at the George Inn,

they received a similar treat. What they went marching for not one of

these deluded men seemed to know, unless it were to gather recruits; and

in this he was successful. Wherever he went--at Eastling, Throwley,

Sildswick, Lees, and Selling--he delivered speeches, made promises, and

obtained adherents. Then the whole party returned to Bossenden Farm.

Here there was an extensive wood, in which the true Canterbury bell is

found. The district is called the Blean, and here a condition of affairs

existed that greatly helped on the cause of Tom. In the eighteenth

century much of the Blean was taken possession of by a number of

squatters, who settled on the ground, then extra-parochial, as a "free

port," from which none could dislodge them, and there they remained

paying rent to none. Now the poor deluded peasants of the neighbourhood

conceived the idea that Tom, or Courtenay, as he had called himself, was

the promised Messiah who was come to give to them all lands to be their

own, on which each man might sit under his own vine, and that the rich

and large-landed proprietors would be cast out and consumed by the

breath of his mouth.

During the tramp of these enthusiasts about the country, a farmer

named Curling lost some of his labourers, who were enticed away from

their work to follow with the rest. Curling at once mounted his horse

and went to a magistrate, and procured from him a warrant for the

apprehension of Courtenay _alias_ Tom. Nicholas Meares, a constable,

and his brother were entrusted to execute the warrant; and on Thursday

morning, 31st May, about six o'clock, they hastened to Culver's farm

to secure the men. Upon their presenting themselves, Courtenay stood

forward, and before Meares could read the warrant shot him dead. He

then went into the house, exclaiming to those who were there, "Now am

I not your Saviour?" and then issuing from the house again, he

discharged a second pistol into the body of Meares, and proceeded to

mutilate it barbarously with his sword.

The news of this murder was conveyed to the magistrates, and they

proceeded to take steps for the apprehension of Courtenay. But the

latter at once called out his men, and they marched into Bossenden

Wood, and there profanely he imitated the Last Supper and administered

to his dupes in bread and water. This over, a man named Alexander Foad

knelt down in the presence of the rest and worshipped him as his

Saviour, and demanded whether he were required to follow him in body,

or whether he might be allowed to return to his home and follow him in

spirit. Courtenay replied, "In the body"; whereupon Foad sprang to his

feet, exclaiming, "Oh! be joyful, be joyful! the Saviour has accepted

me. Now go on; I will follow till I drop."

Another man, named Blanchard, also worshipped him, and Courtenay then

said, in reference to the murder of Meares, "I was executing the

justice of Heaven in consequence of the power that God has given me."

At twelve o'clock Tom and his followers shifted their position to an

osier-bed, and there he harangued them, informing them that he and all

such as believed in him would be invulnerable. He defied the magistrates

and all the power of the world: his was the Kingdom of Heaven; and

then he advised his followers to take up a position in ambush in the

wood. At this time Tom noticed that a Mr. Handley, of Herne Hill, was

observing their actions, and Courtenay _alias_ Tom fired at him; but he

was beyond the range, and he happily missed his aim.

[Illustration: PERCY HONEYWOOD COURTENAY, KNIGHT OF MALTA, ETC., ETC.,

AS HE APPEARED AT THE ELECTION IN 1832]

In the meantime the magistrates had taken steps to put an end to this

fiasco. They had despatched a messenger to Canterbury to summon the

military, and a detachment of a hundred men of the 45th Foot, under

the command of Major Armstrong, was placed at their disposal, and

marched to Boughton. As the party of Courtenay was in the wood, the

magistrates and the soldiery and the constables marched thither. The

wood is of very considerable extent, but was intersected by the main

road from London and Chatham to Canterbury, which was cut across by

another road, a parish road, at right angles. It was found that the

insurgent party was so placed that their front and rear were covered

by the roads right and left. The military were in consequence divided;

and whilst one party of fifty took the road leading to Canterbury,

under the command of Captain Reed, the other was conducted by Major

Armstrong, assisted by Lieutenants Bennett and Prendergast, along the

road that led to Boulton-under-Blean. Thus the insurgents were placed

between two bodies of troops, and their only chance of escape was to

retreat in a straight line through the wood. But Tom _alias_ Courtenay

had no intention of retiring, and he boldly faced Major Armstrong with

the men behind him drawn up, armed with picks and reaping-hooks. He

was summoned to surrender, but turned and bade his followers be of

good cheer and prepare for conflict. These numbered from thirty to

forty men. Courtenay gave the order to charge, and advanced on the

soldiers, when Lieutenant Bennett drew his sword and, heading the

military, ran forward, and was shot by Courtenay; the ball, entering

his right side, passed completely through the body of the young

officer, who reeled and fell dead on the spot. At this moment a

constable named Millwood sprang forward and felled Tom, but as the

madman rose to his feet again, he was struck by a ball from the

military, for they had received orders to fire from Major Armstrong,

who was on horseback. By the discharge eight men were killed on the

spot and several were wounded; but the wretched peasantry fought

desperately, till at last dispersed by the charge of the soldiers

under Armstrong, and those under Captain Reed taking them in flank,

when they scattered and fled through the wood.

In the course of the afternoon twenty-seven prisoners were taken, of

whom seven were suffering from wounds, two of whom died shortly after.

Of the party employed in maintaining the law, George Catt, a

constable, was shot under a mistaken apprehension that he was one of

the rioters; and Lieutenant Prendergast received a contused wound on

the head from the bludgeon of an insurgent.

During the remainder of the week the coroner was engaged in conducting

the necessary inquiries into the cause of death of the deceased

persons. Verdicts of "Wilful murder" were returned in the cases of the

constable Meares, and of Lieutenant Bennett, against Courtenay and his

adherents; whilst in the case of Catt, the jury found "That he had

been killed upon an erroneous belief that he was a rioter."

In the cases of death among the insurgents, the jury found a verdict

of "Justifiable homicide."

The coroner conducted the investigations at the Red Lion Inn,

Boughton, where the yard was full of the wives, widows, and children

of these deluded men; whilst the wounded lay on stretchers, as also

the bodies of the slain, in a stable; the prisoners were in a lockup,

whence they were brought handcuffed to the tavern to be examined.

During the sitting of the jury, two of the wounded men died, and upon

their decease being communicated to those outside, they gave vent to

their feelings in loud wails. The body of Lieutenant Bennett lay in an

upper chamber of the inn. He was but about twenty-five years of age,

and had just obtained leave of absence when the news of the outbreak

reached the barracks, whereupon he applied and obtained permission to

join the party. At the conclusion of the proceedings before the

coroner and the magistrates nineteen prisoners were committed for

trial. Ten of the rioters had been killed. Out of the prisoners,

Meares, a cousin of the murdered constable, Foad, and Couchworth were

wounded. Foad was a respectable farmer, cultivating about sixty acres.

A woman, Sarah Culver, was kinswoman of the farmer who had first sent

to the magistrates. She was possessed of considerable property, and

was forty years of age. She had been a devoted follower of Courtenay;

but it may be presumed that she, like him, was insane.

On Tuesday, 5th June, the greater number of those who had been killed

in the riot were interred in the churchyard of Herne Hill. Amongst

these was Tom. Great crowds attended, amongst them his adherents, who

were in expectation that he would rise again and confound his enemies.

Some apprehensions were entertained lest the mob should use violence

to prevent the burial of their late fanatical leader, but the whole

affair passed off quietly.

At the Maidstone Assizes on Thursday, the 9th August, 1838, the trial

of the prisoners commenced before Lord Denman.

Ten of the prisoners were found guilty of murder and were condemned to

death, but were informed that the sentence would be commuted, and

their lives be spared. The prosecutions in the cases of the other

prisoners were not proceeded with, and they were discharged.

From the admissions of the prisoners, it was ascertained that

Courtenay had promised his followers on the following Sunday to lead

them to Canterbury, to set fire to the city and to have "a glorious

but a bloody day."

Tom had assured his adherents that death had no power over him; that

even though he might seem to die he would rise again in a month, if a

little water were applied to his lips. Accordingly, for a considerable

time after he was buried, the ignorant people waited in lively

expectation that he would reappear.

Of the prisoners, Meares and Wills were ordered to be transported for

life; Price for ten years. The other seven were to undergo one year's

imprisonment with hard labour. A pension of £40 per annum was granted

to the widow of Meares the constable.

Good comes out of evil, and one result of this lamentable affair was

that attention was drawn to the abysmal ignorance of the peasantry of

the Blean, and that schools were at once erected at Dunkirk, to

introduce a better knowledge and sense into the heads of the rising

generation.

A full account of the whole affair was published at Faversham directly

after the event, of which this is the title: "An account of the

desperate affray which took place in Blean Wood, near Boughton,

Thursday, 31st May, 1838, between a party of agricultural labourers,

headed by the self-styled Sir William Courtenay, and a detachment of the

45th Regiment of Foot, commanded by Major Elliott Armstrong, acting

under the orders of the County Magistrates, together with the whole of

the evidence taken before T. T. Delasaux, Esq., coroner, the Rev. Dr.

Bow, N. J. Knatchbull, Esq., and W. C. Fairman, Esq., drawn from

authentic documents. With an account of the funerals of the parties."

There is another work, a copy of which is now in the British Museum,

and is illustrated with a portrait of Tom, a plate representing the

murder of Meares, soldiers entering Bossenden Wood; the scene of

action, the "Red Lion," where the bodies lay; the interior of the

stable with six of the bodies; Sir William Courtenay as he appeared

after the post-mortem examination, and portraits of Tyler and Price,

two of the rioters. The title of the work is: "The Life and

Extraordinary Adventures of Sir William Courtenay, Knight of Malta,

_alias_ John Nichols Tom, formerly spirit merchant and maltster of

Truro in Cornwall, being a correct detail of all the incidents of his

extraordinary life, from his infancy to the dreadful battle of

Bossenden Wood ... with facsimiles of that eccentric character,

concluding with an accurate account of the trial of the rioters at the

Maidstone Assizes. By Canterburiensis. Canterbury: published by James

Hunt, and sold in London by T. Kelly, Paternoster Row, 1838."

_Passages from the Autobiography of a Man of Kent_, edited by R.

Fitzroy Stanley (i.e. Robert Coutars) 1866, may be consulted; also

_The Times_ for June, 1838.

THE BOHELLAND TRAGEDY