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Title: Cornish Worthies: Sketches of Some Eminent Cornish Men and Families, Volume 2 (of 2)

Author: Walter H. Tregellas

Release date: August 8, 2014 [eBook #46530]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, John Campbell and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        file was produced from images generously made available
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORNISH WORTHIES: SKETCHES OF SOME EMINENT CORNISH MEN AND FAMILIES, VOLUME 2 (OF 2) ***




Produced by Chris Curnow, John Campbell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)









  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

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  This book was published in two volumes, of which this is the second.
  The first volume was released as Project Gutenberg ebook #46529,
  available at https://sendtokindle.compellingsciencefiction.com/ebooks/46529.

  Obvious typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected
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  More detail can be found at the end of the book.




CORNISH WORTHIES.




_With Map, Fcap. 8vo., cloth, 2s._

TOURISTS' GUIDE TO CORNWALL

AND THE SCILLY ISLES.

=Containing full information concerning all the principal Places and
Objects of Interest in the County.=

By WALTER H. TREGELLAS, Chief Draughtsman, War Office.

'We cannot help expressing our delight with Mr. W. H. Tregellas's
masterly "Guide to Cornwall and the Scilly Isles." Mr. Tregellas is an
accomplished antiquary and scholar, and writes with love and complete
knowledge of his subject. For anyone interested in one of the most
interesting English counties we could recommend no better guide to its
geology, history, people, old language, industries, antiquities, as
well as topography; and the well-selected list of writers on Cornwall
will be of the greatest service in enabling the reader to pursue the
subject to its limits.'--_The Times._

'A capital Guide to Cornwall.'--_The Athenæum._

'Mr. Tregellas has compiled his Guide with great judgment. The general
tourist could not desire a better companion.'--_The Academy._

'The volume is written in a style much superior to that usually found
in guide-books, and every page is full of just the kind of information
that is being constantly looked for during a holiday trip.'--_The
Examiner._

'Altogether this is, far and away, the fullest and handiest Cornish
guidebook.'--_Western Morning News._

LONDON: EDWARD STANFORD, 55, CHARING CROSS, S.W.




  CORNISH WORTHIES:

  _SKETCHES OF SOME EMINENT CORNISH MEN AND FAMILIES_.

  BY

  WALTER H. TREGELLAS.

  _IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II._

            'Cornubia fulsit
      Tot foecunda viris.'

  JOSEPH OF EXETER (XIIIth century).


  LONDON:

  ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.

  1884.




  [Illustration: (vignette at beginning of Table of Contents.)]


  CONTENTS OF VOL. II.


                                                PAGE

  THE GRENVILLES OF STOW; HEROES BY SEA
  AND LAND                                           1

  INCLEDON; THE SINGER                              87

  THE KILLIGREWS; DIPLOMATISTS, WARRIORS,
  COURTIERS, AND POETS                             113

  RICHARD LANDER; THE EXPLORER                     197

  THE REV. HENRY MARTYN, B.D.; THE CHRISTIAN
  MISSIONARY AND ORIENTAL SCHOLAR                  219

  OPIE; THE PAINTER                                243

  THE ST. AUBYNS OF CLOWANCE AND THE
  MOUNT                                            279

  TREVITHICK; THE ENGINEER                         305

  VIVIAN; THE SOLDIER                              343

  INDEX                                            365




ERRATA AND ADDENDA.


Introduction, p. xiv., for _Dean Miller_ read _Dean Milles_.


JOHN ANSTIS. (Vol. i., p. 33.)

His heraldic and other collections now form part of the Stowe MSS. in
the British Museum.

See also p. 78 of that Catalogue.


THE ARUNDELLS.

'_Sir John Arundell_, the Vice-Admiral of Cornwall who took prisoner
Duncan Campbell, the Scottish pirate, is said to have been a native of
Truro.'--Lysons 'Magna Britannia--Cornwall,' p. 313. (Vol. i., p. 84.)

'In Norden's time' (says Lysons), 'the Arundells had twelve seats in
Cornwall.'

_Sir Thomas_ (afterwards Lord) _Arundel_ of Wardour, 1595, at
Strigonium (Gran), says, 'being arrived at the camp at the very instant
of that great and onlie Battaile between us and the Turks, unknown unto
anie, and uncommanded of anie, I presented myselfe in the front of the
armie, where, by reason of my plumes of feathers, of my armour, bases
and furniture, all full of gould and silver (a thing there altogether
unusual), I was presently marked by all men's eyes.'--_Vide_ 'Count
Arundell's Apologie to Lord Burghley.' (Vol. i., p. 58.)


THE BASSETS. (Vol. i., p. 107.)

_Philip Basset_ was appointed Chief Justiciary of England by Henry
III., in place of Hugh le Despenser, _circ._ 1260, after the attempt
of the barons to seize the King's person at Winchester.--(Pat. 45 Hen.
III., m. 8; and Rot. Claus., 45 Hen. III., m. 10 dors.)

The Royal Cornwall Infirmary, which dates from 1779, contains a tablet
which records 'the establishment, permanency, and usefulness of the
charity to be chiefly due to the munificent liberality and unwearied
exertions of _Francis, Lord de Dunstanville_.' (Vol. i., p. 36.)


HENRY BONE, R.A. (Vol. i., p. 159.)

Many beautiful examples of his works are preserved at Mr. Hope's,
Deepdene, near Dorking.


THE BOSCAWENS. (Vol. i., p. 199.)

The well-known non-juror, Bishop Trelawny, was a Dean of Buryan.
See the seal of the Deans figured in Rev. W. Iago's paper, R. I. C.
Journal, vol. viii., part i., March, 1884.


THE GODOLPHINS. (Vol. i., p. 378.)

There is a portrait of the celebrated Margaret Godolphin at Wotton, the
seat of the Evelyns.

The letter signed 'Frances Godolphin,' vol. i., p. 173, should read as
signed 'Frances St. Aubyn.'


THE GRENVILLES. (Vol. ii., p. 67.)

John Grenville (afterwards Earl of Bath) was Lieutenant-General of the
Ordnance 1702-5.


SIR BEVILL GRENVILLE. (Vol. ii., p. 64.)

I am indebted to a recent very interesting biography of Sir Bevill by
Mr. Alfred R. Robbins (which I did not see until the chapter on the
Grenvilles had gone through the press) for information on the following
points, which had escaped my notice.

Sir Bevill gave a silver cup to Exeter College.

He secured the success of Eliot's election, no doubt on account of
strong personal friendship, as an anti-loan candidate about 1628.
Bagg wrote to the Duke of Buckingham that he desired to have Eliot,
Grenville, and John Arundell 'outlawed and put out of the House'
... 'for here we had Beville Grenville, John Arundell, and Charles
Trevanion coming to the election with five hundred men at each of their
heels.'

He was one of the executors named by Eliot in his will.

He was much encumbered with the debts of his ancestors, and sold
(amongst other property) Brinn, his birthplace, to Sir William Noye,
the Attorney-General.

He objected to the Bill of Attainder against Strafford, and wrote
to his fellow Cornishman, Sir Alexander Carew, 'Pray, sir, when it
comes to be put to the vote, let it never be said that any member of
our country (county) should have a hand in this fatal business; and
therefore pray ye give your vote against the Bill.' But this Carew
stoutly refused to do.

He refused the summons of the Parliament 'to attend the service of
the House,' pleading the King's special command to continue in his
county to preserve the peace thereof; whereupon a resolution was passed
disabling him from continuing to be a member.

His praises, after his death, were sung, not only by his old University
of Oxford, but also by Sir Francis Wortley in his 'Characters and
Elegies,' in 1646; by Robert Heath, in 1650; and by William Cartwright,
in 1651.


THE KILLIGREWS. (Vol. ii., p. 119.)

The 1st Thos. Killigrew was buried at Gluvias, not at Budock.


THE ST. AUBYNS.

The letter signed 'Frances Godolphin,' vol. i., p. 173, should read as
signed 'Frances St. Aubyn.'




_THE GRENVILLES OF STOW_,

HEROES BY SEA AND LAND.




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_THE GRENVILLES OF STOW_,

HEROES BY SEA AND LAND.

    'Tell me, ye skilful men, if ye have read,
    In all the faire memorials of the dead,
      Of names so formidably great,
    So full of wonder and unenvied love;
    In which all virtues and all graces strove,
      So terrible and yet so sweete?'

                            _From a 'Pindaric Ode' of 1686._

    'The four wheels of Charles's wain--
    Grenville, Godolphin, Trevanion, Slanning slain.'

                                      _Old Cornish Distich._


In his 'Worthies of Devon,' Prince, no doubt willingly enough, offers
a compromise with Cornwall as to the ownership of the Grenvilles, and
quotes Dugdale and Fuller to the effect that both Cornwall and Devon
are so fruitful of illustrious men, that each can spare to the other a
hero or two, even if wrongfully deprived of her own; even Carew has a
somewhat similar passage, in which he says, 'The merits of this ancient
family are so many and so great, that ingrossed they would make one
County proud, which, divided, would make two happy.'

But, as it appears to me, Cornwall _could_ not, even if she would,
spare the Grenvilles--especially the two most celebrated of them, Sir
Richard and Sir Bevill--from her roll of Worthies. True it is that
the Grenvilles usually took the sea at Bideford (By-the-ford), for
it was their nearest port, though they always kept a keen eye upon
the possibility of utilizing Boscastle, Tintagel and other North
Cornwall ports; true also that Sir Theobald Grenville (probably with
the assistance of a priest named Sir Richard Gornard, or Gurney, and
others), who flourished in the reign of Edward III., mainly built the
famous great Bideford bridge of twenty-four arches; doubtless, too,
they had lands and knights' fees, and a house or houses at Bideford
in which they occasionally resided: but the _seat_ of the Grenvilles
was, from at least the time of William Rufus, at Stow (which even
Prince calls 'their chiefest habitation'[1]), in the parish of
Kilkhampton, well within the Cornish border, and separated, on the
northern side, from the fair sister county of Devon by the whole of
the broad parish of Morwenstow.[2] For five centuries or more their
monuments were placed in Kilkhampton Church, on which they bestowed
from time to time many benefactions, and of which parish many members
of the family were Rectors. Carew says that one of the Grenvilles was
parson of Kilkhampton, and that he lived so long as to see himself
uncle and great-uncle to more than 300 persons: this was probably
John Grenville, temp. Edward IV. Of another Rector of this parish the
Rev. C. W. Boase, in his 'Registers of Exeter College,' has recorded
that, shortly after the year 1316, Richard Grenfield founded a chest
of money for making loans to the poor scholars of that Society.
According to Lake's 'Parochial History of Cornwall,' the following
Grenvilles were Rectors of Kilkhampton, namely: Richard, son of Sir
Bart^w. Grenville, 1312; John Grenville, 1524, who also held Week St.
Mary; Dennis Grenville, 10th July, 1661; Chamond Grenville, 1711. The
Church Registers, as might be expected, abound in references to the
family. Their descent, too, is given in the 'Heralds' Visitations'
for _Cornwall_[3] (p. 217); and Tuckett rightly omits them from his
edition of the 'Devonshire Pedigrees' (p. 38, etc.). They commanded
the _Cornish_ forces during the Civil War; and, from their earliest
settlement in the county, they intermarried with such old Cornish
families as Tregomynion, Trewent, Vivian, Roscarrick, Killigrew,
Arundell of Lanherne, Basset, St. Aubyn, Bevill, Fortescue, Prideaux,
and Tremayne. That keen observer, the late Canon Kingsley, has,
moreover, not failed to detect, in the portrait of the great Sir
Richard, the thoroughly _Cornish_ type of face; and, finally, they
are rightly included in the 'Bibliotheca Cornubiensis.' It is, in
view of all these facts, probably unnecessary to dwell any further on
the supremacy of Cornwall's claims to the Grenvilles. But it must be
reluctantly confessed that they are, after all, not of strictly Cornish
origin; for, though they lived for centuries in the county, they came
in, like the Bevills (with whom they intermarried more than once),
with the Conqueror; and, as an early form of their name suggests[4]
had their first home in Normandy, and were descended from Duke Rollo,
and from Hamon Dentatus, Earl of Carboyle (? Corbeil), and Lord of
Thorigny and Granville in that country. Their name has been variously
spelt Grenville, Greenville, Grenvile, Greenvil, Granville, Grainvilla,
Granaville, Greenvil and otherwise--it even occurs in one place as
Grinfillde;[5] but it seems likely to be best known in history in the
form prefixed to this chapter, and which has been adopted by the Poet
Laureate in that stirring 'Ballad of the Fleet,' with which we have
all of us lately been delighted, and to which we shall presently have
occasion to refer more fully.

Younger branches of the family settled in Bucks and in Somerset, and
preserved the favourite old Christian name of Richard, which was also
perpetuated in the elder, or Cornish, branch: in fact it has been said
that Cornwall was not without a Richard Grenville for 200 consecutive
years. Among the earliest of them was one of the twelve knights amongst
whom the Conqueror partitioned Wales: he built the monastery in South
Wales, now known as Neath Abbey, the ruins of which are a familiar and
picturesque object to the traveller by rail to Swansea. In 1653, a Mr.
John Nichols, of Hartland, had in his possession 'a prophecy,' written
in the year 1400, said to have been found in Neath Abbey, and which was
kept in a curious box of jet. It referred to the founder; and ran as
follows:

    'Amongst the trayne of valliant knights that with King William came,
    Grenvile is great, a Norman borne, renowned by his fame,
    His helmet rais'd and first unlac'd upon the Cambrian shore,
    Where he, in honour to his God, this Abbey did decore
    With costly buildings, ornaments, and gave us spatious lands,
    As the first fruits which victory did give unto his hands.'

But the materials for the lives of the earlier Grenvilles are too
scanty for our present purpose; and--with one exception--we must
therefore be content to dismiss them with the passing notice which
has already been accorded to the builder of Bideford Bridge; and
with a reference to one of the family, William, who died in 1315,
a distinguished statesman, and forty-first Archbishop of York. He
was at Edward I.'s first Parliament at Carlisle; and, according to
some authorities, crowned Edward II.; he also held several important
councils at York relative to the dissolution of the Order of the
Temple.[6]

'William de Grenefild' (says Carew), 'from the Deanery of Chichester
stepped to the Chancellorship of England, and Archbishoprick of York,
under King Edward the First. He was the son of Sir Theobald Grenvill,
of Stow, and Jane Trewent, and was elected Archbishop of York in 1304,
but not confirmed till 1306, at Lions in France, by Pope Clement the
Fifth, who then held his Court in that city, subsisting chiefly by
the money which he got of the Bishops for their confirmations. Of
this Archbishop he squeezed out within one year 9,500 marks, besides
his expenses whilst he lay there, which made him so poor that when
he returned into England he was driven to gather money of the clergy
within his province at two sundry times in one year; the first in
the name of a benevolence, and the second by way of an aid. He much
favoured the Templars, at that time oppresst by the Pope, and Philip,
King of France, though more pitying them, says Fuller, as persons so
stiffly opposed by the said Potentates, that there was more fear of
his being suppressed by their foes, than hope of their being supported
by his friendship. He was present in the Council of Vienna, where that
Order was abolished, and his place assigned next to the Archbishop
of Triers; which was very high, as only beneath the lowest Elector,
and above Wurtzburg, or Herbipolis, and other German prelates,
who were also temporal Princes. He died at Cawood (near Leeds, in
Yorkshire), 1315, and was buried in the chapel of St. Nicholas[7]
(in York Cathedral), leaving the reputation of an able statesman, and
no ill scholar, behind him.' Tonkin also, in his notes to the 'De
Dunstanville' edition of Carew, states, 'that the Archbishop was the
son of Sir Theobald Grenville, of Stow, and Jane Trewent.'

But Dixon, in his 'Fasti Eboracenses,' says, 'that the birthplace and
parentage of the Archbishop of York are uncertain--notwithstanding
that both Carew and Fuller state that he was a Cornishman. He was
undoubtedly, however, connected with several old and distinguished
families, notably the Giffards. Now Richard de Grenville, the founder
of the Grenville family, married a daughter of Walter Giffard Earl
of Bucks, temp. William I.' Dixon speaks highly of the Archbishop's
piety and zeal, and says that he was a most excellent and painstaking
diocesan. As to the ruby ring removed from the Archbishop's skeleton in
1735, and deposited in the Treasury, Grotius says:

    'Annule, qui thecam poteras habuisse sepulchrum
        Hæc, natalis erit nunc tibi, theca, locus.'

In Carew's 'Survey of Cornwall' (pp. 111, 112), under Trematon Castle,
is the following reference to Sir Richard Grenville, Sheriff of Devon
and Marshal of Calais[8] (grandsire of the more celebrated Grenville
of that name), a man who 'enterlaced his home magistracy with martiall
employments abroad,' and was a great favourite with bluff King Hal:

'At the last Cornish commotion Sir Richard Greynuile the elder, with
his Ladie and followers, put themselves into this Castle, and there
for awhile indured the Rebels siege, incamped in three places against
it, who wanting great Ordinance, could have wrought the besieged small
scathe, had his friends, or enemies, kept faith and promise: but some
of those within, slipping by night over the wals, _with their bodies
after their hearts_, and those without, mingling humble intreatings
with rude menaces, he was hereby wonne, to issue forth at a posterne
gate for parley. The while, a part of those rakehels, not knowing what
honestie, and farre lesse, how much the word of a souldier imported,
stepped betweene him and home, laid hold on his aged unweyldie body
and threatened to leaue it liuelesse, if the inclosed did not leaue
their resistance. So prosecuting their first treacherie against the
prince, with suteable actions towards his subjects, they seized on the
Castle, and exercised the uttermost of their barbarous crueltie (death
excepted) on the surprised prisoners. The seely (_i.e._ harmless)
gentlewomen, without regard of sexe or shame, were stripped from their
apparrell to their verie smockes, and some of their fingers broken, to
plucke away their rings, & Sir Richard himself made an exchange from
Trematon Castle, to that of Launceston, with the Gayle to boote.'

Sir Richard, who married Matilda Bevill, died in 1550; and I have been
fortunate enough to find two of his poetical effusions--apparently
in his own handwriting, now very indistinct in places--amongst the
'Additional MSS.' in the British Museum. They appear to me to be well
worth inserting, notwithstanding their queer versification and grammar,
and their odd orthography:

'IN PRAISE OF SEAFARINGE MEN IN HOPES OF GOOD FORTUNE.

    'Whoe seekes the waie to win Renowne
      Or flies with wyinges of ye Desarte
    Whoe seekes to wear the Lawrell crowen
      Or hath the mind that would espire
    Tell him his native soyll eschew
    Tell him go rainge and seke Anewe

    'Eche hawtie harte is well contente
      With euerie chance that shalbe tyde
    No hap can hinder his entente
      He steadfast standes though fortune slide
    The sun quoth he doth shine as well
    A brod as earst where I did dwell

    'In change of streames each fish can live
      Eche soule content with everie Ayre
    Eche hawtie hart remaineth still
      And not be Dround in depe Dispaire
    Wherfor I judg all landes a likes
    To hawtie hartes whom fortune seekes

    'Two pass the seaes som thinkes a toille
      Som thinkes it strange abrod to rome
    Som thinkes it agrefe to leave their soylle
      Their parentes cynfolke and their whome
    Thinke soe who list I like it nott
    I must abrod to trie my lott

    'Who list at whome at carte to drudge
      And carke and care for worldlie trishe
    With buckled sheues let him go trudge
      Instead of laureall a whip to slishe
    A mynd that basse his hind will show
    Of carome sweet to feed a crowe

    'If fasonn of that mynd had bine
      The gresions when they came to troye
    Had never so the Trogians foyhte
      Nor neuer put them to such Anoye
    Wherfore who lust to live at whome
    To purchase fame I will go Rome

'FINIS--SUR RICHARD GRINFILLDE'S FAREWELL'

But Sir Richard feels bound to confess that there is another and
quite a different aspect of the question; and accordingly frames the
following set-off to his former lines:

'ANOTHER OF SEA FARDINGERS DISCRIBING EVILL FORTUNES.'

    'What pen can well reporte the plighte
      Of those that travell on the seaes
    To pas the werie winters nighte
      With stormie cloudes wisshinge for daie
    With waves that toss them to and fro
    Their pore estate is hard to show

    When boistering windes begins to blowe
      And cruel costes from haven wee
    The foggie mysts soe dimes the shore
      The rocks and sandes we maie not see
    Nor have no Rome on Seaes to trie
    But praie to God and yeld to Die

    When shouldes and sandie bankes Apears
      What pillot can divert his course
    When foming tides draweth us so nere
      A las what fortenn can be worsse
    The Ankers hould roust be our staie
    Or Elise we fall into Decaye

    We wander still from Loffe to Lie
      And findes no steadfast wind to blow
    We still remaine in jeopardie
      Each perelos poynt is hard to showe
    In time we hope to find Redresse
    That long have lived in Heavines

    O pinchinge werie lothsome Lyffe
      That Travell still in far Exsylle
    The dangers great on Sease be ryfe
      Whose recompense doth yeld but toylle
    O fortune graunte me mie Desire
    A hapie end I doe Require

    When freates and states have had their fill
      The gentill calm the cost will clere
    Then hawtie hartes shall have their will
      That longe hast wept with morning chere
    And leave the Seaes with thair Anoy
    At whome at Ease to live in Joy.

                   'FINIS.'

The poetical Sir Richard's son Roger, a Captain in the Navy, lost his
life at the sinking of the _Mary Rose_ (commanded by Sir George Carew,
a Cornishman), at Spithead in 1545. 'Thus the ocean became a bedde of
honour,' as Carew says, 'to more than one of the Grenvilles.'


But it is time that we should turn to a greater Sir Richard--the son of
Roger Grenville and Thomasin Cole of Slade.

My task will be on this occasion comparatively light;

  'His praise is hymned by loftier harps than mine.'

The famous deeds of the great man to whom I have now to call attention
have been celebrated by such writers as his kinsman Sir Walter Raleigh;
by Carew; by that master of portraiture Lord Clarendon; by Charles
Kingsley; and by Tennyson; and I shall of course offer no apology for
not using any words of my own, where I can use theirs: for, as Fuller
said of the Ashburnhams, 'My poor and plain pen, though willing, is
unable to add any lustre to this family of stupendous antiquity.'


Sir Richard, then, was born in 1540; and, when only sixteen years of
age, served in Hungary, under the Emperor Maximilian, against the
Turks, and was present with Don John of Austria, at the battle of
Lepanto. He afterwards assisted in the reduction of Ireland; and,
whilst there, filled the office of Sheriff of Cork. When Sheriff of
Cornwall in 1577, he arrested Francis Tregian for harbouring Cuthbert
Mayne, a recusant priest (see _sub_ 'The Arundells'). In 1571 he
represented his native county in Parliament, and was knighted. On 19th
May, 1585, he sailed from Plymouth with the first colonists, on a
voyage to the new-found land of Virginia, of which voyage Thomas Hariot
gave a 'Briefe and True Report,' printed in 1588: on his homeward
passage he fell in with a Spanish ship of 300 tons, richly laden, from
St. Domingo, which he boarded on a raft, his own boats being lost or
disabled; and in 1586 he made a second visit to Virginia, pillaging
the towns of the Spaniards, and taking many prisoners. With Raleigh
he seems to have made one or two similar expeditions, gathering much
experience, if not much pecuniary advantage.[9]

When the Spanish invasion was projected, Sir Richard was, almost as
a matter of course, elected on the Council for the defence of the
country, and he received the Queen's special commands not to quit
Cornwall during the peril. On this occasion, he is said to have
provided '303 men at his own cost, armed with 129 shot, 69 corsletts,
and 179 bows.' Of the result there is no need to speak here; but it
has always been a matter of pride for West-country men to think how
large a share in the destruction of the Invincible Armada was performed
by the gallant sailors who quietly dropped out of Plymouth Sound, and
harassed their huge opponents for days, till, what with shot, and
storm, and tempest, scarce one of the Spaniards was left to tell the
tale of their utter, and irretrievable defeat.

Kingsley has thus admirably described Sir Richard's appearance:[10]

 'The forehead and whole brain are of extraordinary loftiness, and
 perfectly upright; the nose long, aquiline, and delicately pointed;
 the mouth, fringed with a short, silky beard, small and ripe, yet
 firm as granite, with just pout enough of the lower lip to give
 hint of that capacity of noble indignation which lay hid under
 its usual courtly calm and sweetness; if there be a defect in the
 face, it is that the eyes are somewhat small, and close together,
 and the eyebrows, though delicately arched, and without a trace of
 peevishness, too closely pressed down upon them; the complexion is
 dark, the figure tall and graceful; altogether the likeness of a
 wise and gallant gentleman, lovely to all good men, awful to all
 bad men; in whose presence none dare say or do a mean or a ribald
 thing; whom brave men left, feeling themselves nerved to do their
 duty better, while cowards slipped away, as bats and owls before the
 sun. So he lived and moved; whether in the Court of Elizabeth, giving
 his counsel among the wisest; or in the streets of Bideford, capped
 alike by squire and merchant, shopkeeper and sailor; or riding along
 the moorland roads between his houses of Stow and Bideford, while
 every woman ran out to her door to look at the great Sir Richard; or
 sitting in the low, mullioned window at Burrough, with his cup of
 malmsey before him, and the lute to which he had just been singing
 laid across his knees, while the red western sun streamed in upon his
 high, bland forehead and soft curling locks; ever the same steadfast,
 God-fearing, chivalrous man, conscious (as far as a soul so healthy
 could be conscious) of the pride of beauty, and strength, and valour,
 and wisdom, and a race and name which claimed direct descent from
 the grandfather of the Conqueror, and was tracked down the centuries
 by valiant deeds and noble benefits to his native shire, himself
 the noblest of his race. Men said that he was proud--but he could
 not look round him without having something to be proud of; that he
 was stern and harsh to his sailors--but it was only when he saw in
 them any taint of cowardice or falsehood; that he was subject, at
 moments, to such fearful fits of rage, that he had been seen to snatch
 glasses from the table, grind them to pieces in his teeth, and swallow
 them--but that was only when his indignation had been aroused by some
 tale of cruelty and oppression; and, above all, by those West Indian
 devilries of the Spaniards, whom he regarded (and in those days
 rightly enough) as the enemies of God and man.'[11]

And the noble old house at Stow, with its chapel licensed by Bishop
Brantingham of Exeter, in 1386,[12] of which no vestige, alas!
remains, was worthy of being the abode of such a hero. It would be but
unprofitable labour to attempt a fresh description of it after the
graphic account which Kingsley gives:

 'Old Stow House stands,' says he, 'or rather stood, some four miles
 within the Cornish border, on the northern slope of the largest and
 loveliest of those coombes'--which he had just been describing in a
 memorable passage of a preceding chapter (the sixth) in 'Westward
 Ho!' 'Eighty years _after_ Sir Richard's time there arose a huge
 Palladian pile, bedizened with every monstrosity of bad taste, which
 was built, so the story runs, by Charles II. for Sir Richard's
 great-grandson, the heir of that famous Sir Bevil who defeated the
 Parliamentary troops at Stratton, and died soon after, fighting
 valiantly at Lansdowne over Bath. But like most other things which
 owed their existence to the Stuarts, it rose only to fall again.
 An old man who had seen, as a boy, the foundation of the new house
 laid, lived to see it pulled down again, and the very bricks and
 timber sold upon the spot; and since then the stables have become
 a farmhouse, the tennis-court a sheep-cote, the great quadrangle a
 rick-yard; and civilization, spreading wave on wave so fast elsewhere,
 has surged back from that lonely corner of the land--let us hope
 only for awhile.[13] 'But I am not writing of that great _new_ Stow
 House, of the past glories whereof quaint pictures still hang in the
 neighbouring houses; ... I have to deal with a simpler age, and a
 sterner generation; and with the _old_ house, which had stood there,
 in part at least, from grey and mythic ages ... a huge, rambling
 building, half-castle, half-dwelling-house.... On three sides, to
 the north, west and south, the lofty walls of the old ballium still
 stood, with their machicolated turrets, loopholes, and dark downward
 crannies for dropping stones and fire on the besiegers; ... but the
 southern court of the ballium had become a flower-garden, with quaint
 terraces, statues, knots of flowers, clipped yews and hollies, and all
 the pedantries of the topiarian art. And, towards the east, where the
 vista of the valley opened, the old walls were gone, and the frowning
 Norman keep, ruined in the wars of the Roses, had been replaced by
 the rich and stately architecture of the Tudors. Altogether, the
 house, like the time, was in a transitionary state, and represented
 faithfully enough the passage of the old middle age into the new life
 which had just burst into blossom throughout Europe, never, let us
 pray, to see its autumn or its winter.

 'From the house on three sides the hills sloped steeply down, and
 from the garden there was a truly English prospect. At one turn they
 could catch, over the western walls, a glimpse of the blue ocean
 flecked with passing sails; and at the next, spread far below, range
 on range of fertile park, stately avenue, yellow autumn woodland, and
 purple heather moors, lapping over and over each other up the valley
 to the old British earthwork, which stood black and furze-grown on
 its conical peak; and, standing out against the sky, on the highest
 bank of the hill which closed the valley to the east, the lofty tower
 of Kilkhampton Church, rich with the monuments and offerings of five
 centuries of Grenvilles.'

Such were old Stow, and its gallant owner Sir Richard. And the women of
the Grenville home seem, for the most part, to have been as fair and
virtuous and accomplished as their husbands were sagacious and brave.
Polwhele, in after-times, particularly noticed the remarkable beauty
of Sir Richard's great-great-granddaughter Mary, the daughter of the
Honourable Bernard Grenville, of Stow. Sir Richard married Mary, the
daughter of Sir John St. Leger; but the lovely dame had, like the wife
of her illustrious grandson, Sir Bevill, to give up what was dearest
to her in the world, to the cruel necessities of the troubled times in
which they lived.

Yet I cannot doubt that these women had the spirits of Roman matrons
within them; and would have assented to Lovelace's lines had their
husbands whispered the couplet to them:

    'I could not love thee, dear, so much
      Lov'd I not honour more.'

To return to Sir Richard:--In 1591 we find him acting as Vice-Admiral
of a squadron sent out to intercept the richly-laden Spanish fleet on
its return from the West Indies; a service of the utmost importance,
as, in capturing or sinking the Indian supplies, observes Mr. Arber,
England 'stopped the sources of Philip's power to hurt herself.' How
the English ships were surprised in their lurking-place 'at Flores[14]
in the Azores,' and how valiantly Sir Richard Grenville fought and died
for Queen and country, let Raleigh and Tennyson tell.

It was towards the end of August, whilst the Admiral, Lord Thomas
Howard,[15] with six of her Majesty's ships and a few smaller vessels
and pinnaces, was at anchor at Flores, when news suddenly came of the
near approach of the great Spanish fleet. Many of the Englishmen were
ill on shore, while others were filling the ships with ballast, or
collecting water. Imperfectly manned and ballasted as they were, there
was nothing for it--at least so Lord Howard appears to have thought--in
the face of so enormously preponderating a force as they found was
close at hand, but to weigh anchor, and escape as they best could: and
so it became a complete _sauve qui peut_; some of the ships were even
compelled to slip their cables. Sir Richard, as Vice-Admiral, was the
last to start, delaying to do so till the final moment, in order to
collect several of his sick crew who were on the island, and who, if
he had left them there, must have been lost. This noble delay of his
resulted in the safety of the remainder of the fleet; but it cost Sir
Richard and his crew their lives; and the little _Revenge_, which had
four or five times narrowly escaped shipwreck, her existence: but she
was, as Admiral Hawkins described her, 'ever a ship loaden, and full
fraught with ill successe.' Grenville refused to 'cut his mainsail, and
cast about,' and so run from the enemy; but persuaded his crew that he
would contrive to pass through the two great Spanish squadrons which
intercepted him, 'in despight of them, and would enforce those of Sivil
to give him way.' It was the story of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylæ
acted over again. The huge _San Philip_ of 1,500 tons (carrying 'three
tier of ordinance on a side, and eleven pieces on every tier; she shot
eight forth right out of her chase, besides those of her stern ports'),
however, loomed to windward of the small English ship; and 'becalmed
his sails in such sort as the _Revenge_ could neither make way, nor
feel the helm;' and then--

   'Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a hurrah, and so
   The little _Revenge_ ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
   With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
   For half of their fleet to the right, and half to the left were seen,
   And the little _Revenge_ ran on thro' the long sea lane between.'

What end could there be, but one, to courage so chivalric, so
desperate, and so devoted as this? 'After the _Revenge_ was entangled
with this _Philip_,' says Raleigh, 'four other boarded her--(_i.e._,
laid her aboard)--two on her larboard, and two on her starboard. The
fight thus beginning at three o'clock in the afternoon, continued very
terrible all that evening. But the great _San Philip_ having received
the lower tier of the _Revenge_, discharged with cross-bar shot,
shifted herself with all diligence from her sides, utterly misliking
her first entertainment. Some say that the ship foundered, but we
cannot report for truth, unless we are assured. The Spanish ships were
filled with companies of soldiers, in some two hundred, beside the
mariners; in some five, in others eight, hundred. In ours there were
none at all besides the mariners, but the servants of the commanders,
and some few voluntary gentlemen only. After many interchanged vollies
of great ordnance and small shot, the Spaniards deliberated to enter
the _Revenge_, and made divers attempts, hoping to force her, by the
multitudes of their armed soldiers and musketeers, but were still
repulsed again and again, and at all times beaten back into their own
ships, or into the seas.'

    'And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,
    For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
    And a dozen times we shook 'em off, as a dog that shakes his ears
    When he leaps from the water to the land.'

'In the beginning of the fight,' Sir Walter Raleigh continues, 'the
_George Noble_, of London, having received some shot through her, by
the armadas, fell under the lee of the _Revenge_, and asked Sir Richard
what he would command him, being but one of the victuallers, and of
small force; Sir Richard bade him save himself, and leave him to his
fortune. After the fight had thus, without intermission, continued
while the day lasted, and some hours of the night, many of our men were
slain and hurt, and one of the great gallions of the armada, and the
admiral of the hulks both sunk, and in many other of the Spanish ships
great slaughter was made.'

The marvel is how a fragment of the brave little craft was still
afloat, for

    'Ship after ship the whole night long, their high-built galleons
          came,
    Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder
          and flame,
    Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and
          her shame.
    For some were sunk, and some were shattered, and some could fight
          us no more--
    God of battles! was ever a battle like this in the world before?'

'Some write,' says Raleigh, 'that Sir Richard was very dangerously hurt
almost in the beginning of the fight, and lay speechless for a time
before he recovered. But two of the _Revenge's_ own company brought
home in a ship of Lime (Lyme Regis) from the islands, examined by some
of the lords and others, affirm that he was never so wounded as that he
forsook the upper deck, till an hour before midnight; and then being
shot into the body with a musket as he was a dressing, was again shot
into the head, and withal his chururgion wounded to death. This agreeth
also with an examination taken by Sir Francis Godolphin,[16] of four
other mariners of the same ship being returned, which examination
the said Sir Francis sent unto Master William Killegrue,[17] of Her
Majesty's Privy Chamber.'

But to return to the fight; 'the Spanish ships which attempted to board
the _Revenge_, as they were wounded and beaten off, so always others
came in their places, she having never less than two mighty gallions
by her sides, and aboard her: so that ere the morning, from three of
the clock of the day before, _there had been fifteen several armadas
assailed her; and all so ill-approved their entertainment, as they
were by the break of day far more willing to hearken to a composition
than hastily to make any more assaults or entries_. But as the day
encreased, so our men decreased; and as the light grew more and more,
by so much more grew our discomforts; for none appeared in sight but
enemies, saving one small ship called the _Pilgrim_, commanded by
Jacob Whiddon, who hovered all night to see the success; but in the
morning bearing with the _Revenge_, was hunted like a hare amongst many
ravenous hounds, but escaped.

'All the powder of the _Revenge_ to the last barrel was now spent, all
her pikes broken, forty of her best men slain, and the most part of
the rest hurt. In the beginning of the fight she had but one hundred
free from sickness, and four score and ten sick, laid in hold upon
the ballast. A small troop to man such a ship, and a weak garrison
to resist so mighty an army. By those hundred all was sustained, the
vollies, boardings, and enterings of fifteen ships of war, besides
those which beat her at large (_i.e._, from a little distance off). On
the contrary, the Spaniards were always supplied with soldiers brought
from every squadron; all manner of arms and powder at will. Unto ours
there remained no comfort at all, no hope, no supply either of ships,
men, or weapons; the masts all beaten overboard, all her tackle cut
asunder, her upper work altogether razed, and in effect evened she was
with the water, but the very foundation of a ship, nothing being left
overhead either for flight or defence.' Mr. O. W. Brierly's recently
engraved picture of this stage of the fight, showing the little
_Revenge_ with her mainsail down and lying over her 'like a pall,'
surrounded by her over-towering enemies, still afraid to approach the
dangerous little barque, gives a vivid, and probably accurate idea of
the tremendous odds against which the devoted Englishmen had to contend.

'Sir Richard, finding himself in this distress, and unable any longer
to make resistance, having endured, in this fifteen hours' fight, the
assault of fifteen different armadas, all by turns aboard him, and by
estimation eight hundred shot of great artillery, besides many assaults
and entries; and that the ship and himself must needs be possessed of
the enemy, who were now all cast in a ring round about him, now gave
the order to destroy his gallant craft:

    '"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
    As may never be fought again!
    We have won great glory, my men!
          And a day less or more
          At sea or ashore
          We die--does it matter when?
    Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
    Fall into the hands of God! not into the hands of Spain!"'

To this [Greek: daimoniê aretê] (as Froude calls it) of the fiery
Sir Richard the master-gunner readily assented; but, according to
Raleigh's account, the captain and master pointed out that the
Spaniards would doubtless give them good terms, and that there were
still some valiant men left on board their little ship whose lives
might hereafter be of service to England. Sir Richard was probably
by this time too weak and wounded to contest the matter further; the
counsels of the captain and master prevailed; and the master actually
succeeded in obtaining for conditions _that all their lives should be
saved, the crew sent to England, and the officers ransomed_. In vain
did the master-gunner protest and even attempt to commit suicide:
Tennyson has summed up the story in one sad line:

  'And the lion lay there dying, and they yielded to the foe.'

Sir Richard was now removed to the ship of the Spanish admiral, 'the
_Revenge_ being marvellous unsavoury, filled with blood and bodies of
dead and wounded men like a slaughter-house.'

And now--

  'How died he? Death to life is crown, or shame--'

There, on the deck of Don Alfonso Bassano's ship, in the midst of the
Spanish captains, who crowded round to wonder at the man who had so
long defied their deadly attacks, two or three days after the fight
between 'the mastiffs of England and the bloodhounds of Spain,' the
grand old Cornish warrior's spirit left the body, speaking his last
words thus--in Spanish, so John Huighen van Linschoten (in 'Hakluyt's
Voyages') tells us:

'Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind; for that
I have ended my life as a true soldier ought to do, fighting for his
Country, Queen, Religion and Honour: my soul willingly departing from
this body, leaving behind the lasting fame of having behaved as every
valiant soldier is in duty bound to do.'

Lord Bacon says of the fight that it was 'Memorable euen beyond credit,
and to the Height of some Heroicall Fable.'

And well might Ruskin, in his 'Bibliotheca Pastorum' (i. 33), class the
Cornish hero with Arnold of Sempach, Leonidas and Curtius as a type of
'the divinest of sacrifices--that of the patriot for his country'! Well
might the gentle Evelyn exclaim: 'Than this what have we more? What can
be greater?' And well might gallant old Sir John Hawkins wish that this
story might be 'written in our Chronicles,'--as it has been, by Raleigh
and by Tennyson,--in 'letters of Gold.'

The Spanish fleet were not permitted to enjoy the fruits of this, their
hard-earned and almost only capture during the war; for, a few days
after the battle, a great storm arose from the west and north-west,
dispersing their battle-ships, and also the West Indian fleet (the
cause of the English Expedition) which had now joined them; and
sinking, off the coast of St. Michael, fourteen sail, together with
the _Revenge_--which seemed to disdain to survive her commander--with
200 Spaniards on board her.

'So it pleased them,' says Raleigh, 'to honour the burial of that
renowned ship the _Revenge_, not suffering her to perish alone, for the
great honour she achieved in her life-time.' A noble elegy! which even
Tennyson's genius has been unable to surpass.

This is not perhaps the time or the place to consider how it was
possible for this one little English vessel with a crew of 100 men, to
contend so long against 50 (or according to some accounts 53) Spanish
galleons with 10,000 men, sinking four of the largest, and slaying
1,000 Spaniards; but it was no doubt owing to more causes than one:--to
the low and short hull, which made her more manageable--to superior
gunnery and seamanship--but mainly to the stoutest, freest, and
fiercest _hearts_ upon earth--the hearts of Englishmen. They _believed_
they were more than a match for their foes, and confidence begat
victory; and if ever there was an English victory, in the fullest sense
of the word, it was the triumphant loss of the '_Revenge_.'

The Spanish proverb ran

  'Guerra con todo il mondo;--y paz con Inghilterra;'

and it has well been said that the episode of the _Revenge_ dealt
a deadlier blow to the fame and moral strength of Spain, than even
the defeat of the Armada itself.[18] But Sir Richard was not left
without a witness. Passing over his son John, who, Carew says, followed
Raleigh, and was drowned in the ocean, which 'became his bedde of
honour;' and also another son Sir Bernard, who died in 1605, after
having served as Sheriff of Cornwall and M.P. for Bodmin--as not
being of such transcendent merit as either Sir Bernard's father or
son--we come to the 'immortal' Sir Bevill Grenville, eldest son of the
said Sir Bernard and his wife Elizabeth Beville of Killigarth near
Polperro--(or, according to another account, of Brinn)--a man no whit
inferior in loyalty and courage to his illustrious grandsire.


Sir Bevill was born, somewhat unexpectedly, on 23rd March, 1595, at
Brinn--probably Great Brinn, the seat of the Bevills, but not a stone
of the old mansion is now standing--in the little Cornish parish of
Withiel; four years after the little _Revenge_ went down by the island
crags,

  'To be lost evermore in the main.'

He was doubtless carefully brought up at Stow--the _old_ Stow--which
was in those days a sort of nursery for the better sort of young
Cornishmen. The late Rev. R. S. Hawker, vicar of Morwenstow, has given
us the following pleasant picture of it in Sir Bevill's days:

 'On the brow of a lofty hill,[19] crested with stag-horned trees,
 commanding a deep and woodland gorge wherein "the Crooks of Combe"
 (the curves of a winding river) urge onward to the "Severn Sea,"
 still survive the remains of famous old Stow, that historic abode of
 the loyal and glorious Sir Bevill, the Bayard of old Cornwall, "sans
 peur et sans reproche," in the thrilling Stewart wars. No mansion
 on the Tamar-side ever accumulated so rich and varied a store of
 association and event. Thither the sons of the Cornish gentry were
 accustomed to resort, to be nurtured and brought up with the children
 of Sir Bevill Grenville and Lady Grace; for the noble knight was
 literally the "glass wherein" the youth of those ancient times "did
 dress themselves." There their graver studies were relieved by manly
 pastimes and athletic exercise. Like the children of the Persians,
 they were taught "to ride, to bend the bow, and to speak the truth."
 At hearth and hall every time-honoured usage and festive celebration
 was carefully and reverently preserved. Around the walls branched
 the massive antlers of the red deer of the moors, the trophies of
 many a bold achievement with horse and hound. At the buttery-hatch
 hung a tankard, marked with the guest's and the traveller's peg, and
 a manchet, flanked with native cheese, stood ready on a trencher
 for any sudden visitant who might choose to lift the latch; for the
 Grenville motto was, "An open door and a greeting hand." A troop of
 retainers, servants, grooms, and varlets of the yard, stood each in
 his place, and under orders to receive with a welcome the unknown
 stranger, as well as their master's kinsman or friend.'

To Mr. Hawker's graceful pen we are also indebted for the following
capital ballad:

SIR BEVILL--THE GATE SONG OF STOW.

    'Arise, and away! for the King and the land;
      Farewell to the couch and the pillow:
    With spear in the rest, and with rein in the hand,
      Let us rush on the foe like a billow.

    'Call the hind from the plough, and the herd from the fold,
      Bid the wassailer cease from his revel;
    And ride for Old Stow, where the banner's unrolled
      For the cause of King Charles and Sir Bevill.

    'Trevanion is up, and Godolphin is nigh,
      And Harris of Hayne's o'er the river;
    From Lundy to Loo, "One and all" is the cry,
      And "The King and Sir Bevill for ever!"

    'Ay! by Tre, Pol, and Pen, ye may know Cornish men,
      'Mid the names and the nobles of Devon;
    But if truth to the King be a signal, why then
      Ye can find out the Grenville in heaven.

    'Ride! ride with red spur! there is death in delay,
      'Tis a race for dear life with the devil;
    If dark Cromwell prevail, and the King must give way,
      This earth is no place for Sir Bevill.

    'So at Stamford he fought, and at Lansdowne he fell,
      But vain were the visions he cherished;
    For the great Cornish heart that the King loved so well,
      In the grave of the Grenville is perished.'

From Stow Bevill Grenville went to the famous old West-country college,
Exeter College, Oxford; where he was placed under Dr. Prideaux (one,
I fancy, of the worthy family of Prideaux Place, Padstow). He shortly
afterwards entered Parliament, and going to Scotland, in command of a
troop of horse, with the King, was knighted.[20]

The relations of Sir Bevill and Clarendon were peculiar. Clarendon
had quarrelled with Sir Bevill's fiery brother, Sir Richard (created,
according to Whitelocke, Baron of Lostwithiel in 1644), a man of high
spirit and of considerable bravery and military skill, but with an
unlucky facility for getting into scrapes and troubles of all sorts.
He begins with a squabble with his wife's brother-in-law, the powerful
Earl of Suffolk, which ends in Sir Richard's having to pay a fine of
£8,000, besides undergoing sixteen months' imprisonment in the Fleet.
He afterwards served in Ireland, and on his return to England, finding
it a matter of considerable difficulty to get his arrears of pay,
resorted to the following questionable artifice for the purpose. He
pretended to lend a not unwilling ear to the Parliament's suggestion,
that in return for being paid the money due to him, he should transfer
his sword from the King's cause to theirs. Indeed, he even went so far
as to take the command of a body of Roundhead horse, and marched upon
Basing. But on reaching Hounslow he, without much difficulty, persuaded
all his officers and men to proceed to Oxford instead, where he placed
the services of his whole party at the King's disposal, whereupon the
Parliamentarians righteously enough dubbed him 'skellum' (scoundrel)
and 'renegado.' He did yeoman's service for the King in Cornwall,
and Charles left the blockade of Plymouth in his charge--a blockade
which, as we know, was finally abandoned. The whole story is given in
Llewellyn Jewitt's 'History of Plymouth,' together with a scornful
letter to Sir Richard from the defenders. And I notice that in a letter
from Sir R. Grenville to his nephew, the Earl of Bath, then only about
sixteen years old, he is reported to have said, 'We have here made a
stand with our forces and the garrisons of Salt Ash, Milbrooke and
others considerable have come up and added to our former, and we hope
well.' The letter is dated 'Truro, 29 July, 1644.'

There appears to have been no sufficient reason why he should have been
asked to surrender his post of 'the King's General in the West'[21] in
favour of Lord Hopton, but he was compelled to do so; and on giving up
his command he refused to serve under that officer, upon which he was
forthwith 'clapped up' in Launceston Gaol, to the great dissatisfaction
of many of the Cornish officers and soldiers, who attributed their
ultimate discomfiture to the absence of Sir Richard from the field.[22]
Clarendon (his foe), and the prejudiced and inaccurate Echard, give
very unflattering accounts of Sir Richard; but his grand-nephew, George
Lord Lansdowne, published a skilful and temperate vindication of him
against their aspersions; and Sir Richard printed his own 'Defence'
in Holland, dating it 28th January, 1654. Whilst in Holland, by the
way, he seems to have attempted reprisals upon the Earl of Suffolk;
for we find that one of Milton's Latin 'State Letters' is addressed to
the Archduke Leopold of Austria, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands
(undated), to the effect that Sir Charles Harbord, an Englishman, has
had certain goods and household stuff violently seized at Bruges by Sir
Richard Grenville. The goods had originally been sent from England to
Holland in 1643 by the then Earl of Suffolk, in pledge for a debt owing
to Harbord; and Grenville's pretext was that he also was a creditor
of the Earl, and had obtained a decree of the English Chancery in
his favour. Now, by the English law, neither was the present Earl of
Suffolk bound by that decree, nor could the goods be distrained under
it. The decision of the Court to that effect was transmitted, and
his Serenity was requested to cause Grenville to restore the goods,
inasmuch as it was against the comity of nations that anyone should be
allowed an action in foreign jurisdiction which he would not be allowed
in the country where the cause of the action first arose. The letter
ends thus:

 'The justice of the case itself and the universal reputation of your
 Serenity for fair dealing have moved us to commend the matter to your
 attention; and, if at any time there shall be occasion to discuss the
 rights or convenience of your subjects with us, I promise that you
 shall find our diligence in the same not remiss, but at all times most
 ready.'

Clarendon and Sir Richard both went into exile, and more than once
hurled reproaches at each other; but the crowning misfortune of
Grenville's life was the refusal of Charles II., on Sir Richard's
failing to justify some statements which he had made against Lord
Clarendon, to let him appear at Court. This broke the old man's heart.
He let his beard grow from that time; and died soon afterwards.[23]

Hals, delighting, as usual, to say anything sour and disagreeable of
his fellow-countymen, states in his MSS. that when Sir Richard, at the
death of Charles I., 'for safe gaurd of his life fled beyond the seas,'
he passed most of his time 'in france and Itally, sufferinge greate
wants and necessities,' and 'was at Length comparitively starved to
Death.... His son Richard Grenvill, in the Interregnum of Cromwell, was
executed at Tyburne for robbinge Passengers on the high way to Relieve
his necessity. Moreover Sir Thomas Grenvill Kt. at the same tyme was
Driven to such Extreame wants in his owne Country that he was forced
for Reliefe to begge the Charity of his friends and Dyed in Great
want and penury--and his Lady also--though his Daughter Jane, being a
Servant to the Lady Robarts, was marryed to John Tregagle Gent. from
whom the Tregagles of Treworder are Descended.'

Here is, perhaps, a convenient place to add that Polwhele thought that
Henry Grenfield, Master of the Truro Grammar School in 1685, was one
of this family. He wrote a charming 'Hymnus Vespertinus,' which is
preserved in R. N. Worth's 'West Country Garland.'

A writer in _Notes and Queries_ (5th Series, X. Sept. 14th, 1878)
observes that, 'It is curious that, whereas the name of Grenville,
as one of distinction, has long died out in Cornwall, it appeared
suddenly in the registers of Fowey about a hundred years ago, the
persons bearing it being in humble circumstances. As this is the
only trace of the family name remaining in Cornwall or Devonshire,
counties with which it was so intimately connected in local history,
the matter may be of interest. There would, in fact, seem to be some
mystery enveloping the extinction of the name, which is at the present
moment borne _by right of birth_ by very few persons, although some
six creations of the title have been made to keep it in the peerage.
Gilbert is believed to have entertained an opinion that the family
still existed _in the direct line_ in Cornwall or Devonshire, and had
sunk out of sight by reason of poverty, when the never very flourishing
condition of the Grenvilles became untenable. The Carterets, Thynnes,
and Leveson-Gowers now jointly and severally represent the old family,
but only indirectly, and solely in the line which Sir Bevill Grenville
ennobled.'

But Clarendon, though he had quarrelled so utterly with Sir Richard,
had nothing but good to say of 'the most generally beloved man of the
county of Cornwall,' his brother, Sir Bevill[24]--'Sans peur et sans
reproche'--of his mild and conciliatory character, his indefatigable
activity, and his ardent courage--qualities which rendered him an
invaluable adherent of the first Charles during the unnatural struggles
of the Civil War--'the war without an enemy'--the black cloud' which
was to overspreade the whole kingdome, and cast all into disorder and
darknesse.'

It will be within the memory of all readers of the noble historian that
the King's cause suffered very much, from the first, from the superior
promptitude of the Parliamentary leaders, who had actually appointed
Militia Committees in the various counties--Cornwall included--long
before the King's standard was raised. But the Cornish gentry, headed
by our Sir Bevill, who had already in 1638 raised a troop of horse
to serve with Charles against the Scots, were conspicuous for their
loyalty, to which Charles's memorable letter of thanks from Sudeley
Castle, 10th September, 1643 (copies of which still hang in many of
the Cornish churches as commanded by the King) amply testifies. And
at first Sir Bevill, 'the Mirror of Chivalry,' as he was called in
the West, was more than a match for the Committees, which he speedily
suppressed; and at once, with the assistance of Trevanion, Arundell,
Basset, Godolphin, and others, set to work to raise a regular force.[25]

At this juncture, the following sweet and gallant letter, which Eliot
Warburton quotes as an example of the romantic loyalty of the day, in
his 'Memoirs of Prince Rupert and the Cavaliers,' was addressed to Sir
John Trelawny, the first baronet of that name--evidently in reply to a
communication from Sir John urging the Knight of Stow not to embark in
so perilous an enterprise:

  'MOST HONOURABLE SIR,

 'I have in many kinds had trial of your nobleness, but in none more
 than in this singular expression of your kind care and love. I give
 also your excellent Lady humble thanks for respect unto my poor Woman,
 who hath been long a faithful much obliged servant of your Ladyes.
 But, Sir, for my journey, it is fixed. I cannot contain myself within
 my doors, when the King of England's standard waves in the field upon
 so just occasion. The cause being such as must make all those that die
 in it little inferior to martyrs. And for my own part, I desire to
 acquire an honest name or an honourable grave. I never loved my life
 or ease so much as to shun such an occasion; which if I should, I were
 unworthy of the profession I have held, or to succeed those ancestors
 of mine, who have so many of them in several ages sacrificed their
 lives for their country.

 'Sir, the barborous and implacable enemy, notwithstanding His
 Majesty's gracious proceedings with them, do continue their
 insolencies and rebellion in the highest degree, and are united in
 a body of great strength; so, as you may expect, if they be not
 prevented and mastered near their own homes, they will be troublesome
 in yours, and in the remotest places ere long.

 'I am not without the consideration, as you lovingly advise, of my
 wife and family; and as for her, I must acknowledge, she hath ever
 drawn so evenly in the yoke with me, as she hath never prest before,
 or hung behind me, nor ever opposed or resisted my will. And yet
 truly, I have not, in this or anything else, endeavoured to walk in
 any way of power with her, but of reason; and though her love will
 submit to either, yet truly my respect will not suffer me to urge
 her with power unless I can convince with reason. So much for that,
 whereof I am willing to be accomptable unto so good a friend.

 'I have no suit unto you in mine own behalf, but for your prayers and
 good wishes; and that if I live to come home again, you would please
 to continue me in the number of your servants.

 'I shall give a true relation unto my very noble friend Mr. Moyle, of
 your and his Aunt's loving respect to him, which he hath good reason
 to be thankful for. And so, I beseech God to send you and your noble
 family all health and happiness, and while I live, I am, Sir,

    'Your unfeigned loving and faithful Servant,
                                     'BEVILL GRENVILE.'

Writing to his 'Deare love' and 'best friend,' from Bodmin on the
12th October, he says: 'My neighbours did ill that came not out, and
are punishable by the law in high degree; and although I will do
the best I can to save some of the honester sort, yet others shall
smart.' Nevertheless he was a staunch friend of Sir John Eliot (who
was godfather to one of his children), and was mainly instrumental
in procuring Sir John's release from the Tower. Forster quotes many
of Sir Bevill's letters, in his 'Life of Eliot,' all of which are in
the highest degree noble, patriotic, and affectionate. But by far the
most charming are the following delightful letters to his graceful,
affectionate, and accomplished wife:[26]

  'To my best Frend--the Lady Grace Grenvile--these.

                           Plimp. (Plympton), Feb. 20, 1642.

  'MY DEARE LOVE,

  'Y^r great care and good affection, as they are very remarkable, so
  they deserve my best thankes, and I could wish that the subject which
  you bestowe them upon could better requite you.

  'I shall returne ye messenger with but little certainty concerning our
  present condition.'

  (Here follows a description of the positions of the contending forces.)

  'The Queene is coming with good Ayde to the King. The Parl. did
  attempt to force severall quarters where the King's army lay, and
  were beaten off with great losses to themselves in all places. We
  have advertiz^{mt} that some ayde is coming from his Ma^{tie} to us,
  but it is so slowe as we shall need it before we see it, but God's
  will be done, I am satisfied I cannot expire in a better cause. I
  have given some directions to Jack' (his son John Grenvile) 'for his
  study, pray cause him to putt them in execution, and to make some
  exercise in verse or prose every day. Intreat my cos.' (imperfect)
  'and Bar. Geal. to take a little paines (with) him. I have released
  the Prisoners that Bar. Geal. wrote for. Let Cap. Stanb. know, it is
  all one to me whither he goe by Byd' (Bideford), 'or Pads. (Padstow)
  so he make haste and now to conclude, I beseech you take care of your
  health, I have nothing so much in my prayers. Y^r Phisiton Jennings is
  turned a Traytor with the rest--whereby he hath lost my love, and I am
  doubtfull to trust you with him. Present my humble duety and thanks to
  your mother and I beseech God to blesse your young People.

                  'I rest y^r owne ever,
                                'BEVILL GRENVILLE.

  'My new cap is a little to straight. I know not what forme of a
  certifficate it is that Jo. Geal. desires, but if he will send it to
  me drawne, I will get it sign'd.'

Then comes the account of the victory over the Parliamentary forces on
Braddock Down, half-way between Lostwithiel and Liskeard:

  'MY DEARE LOVE,

  'It hath pleas'd God to give us a happie victory this present Thursday
  being ye 19th of Jan^y, for which pray join with me in giving God
  thanks. We advanced yesterday from Bodmin to find ye enemy which we
  heard was abroad, or if we miss'd him in the field we were resolved to
  unhouse them in Liskeard or leave our boddies in the highway. We were
  not above 3 miles from Bodmin, when we had view of two troops of their
  horse to whom we sent some of ours, which chased them out of the field
  while our foot march'd after our horse; but night coming on we could
  march no further than Boconnocke Parke,[27] where (upon my co. Mohun's
  kind notion) we quartered all our army by good fires under the hedge.
  The next morning (being this day) we marched forth, and about noone
  came in full view of the enemies whole army upon a fair heath between
  Boconnocke and Braddocke Church. They were in horse much stronger than
  we, but in foot we were superior, as I thinke. They were possest of
  a pretty rising ground which was in the way towards Liskeard and we
  planted ourselves upon such another against them with in muskett shot,
  and we saluted each other with bulletts about two hours or more, each
  side being willing to keep their ground and to have the other to come
  over to his prejudice; but after so long delay, they standing still
  firm, and being obstinate to hould their advantage, Sir Ra. Hopton
  resolved to march over to them, and to leave all to the mercy of God
  and valour of our side. I had the Van; so after solemne prayers in the
  head of every division,[28] I led my part away, who followed me with
  so good courage both down one hill and up the other, as it strooke
  a terror in them, while the seconds came up gallantly after me, and
  the wings of horse charged on both sides, but their courage so failed
  them as they stood not our first charge of the foot, but fled in great
  disorder and we chast them divers miles; many were not slain because
  of their quick disordering, but we have taken above 600 prisoners
  among which S^r Shilston Calmady is one, and more are still brought in
  by the soldiers; much armes they have lost, and colours we have won,
  and 4 pieces of ordinance from them, and without rest we marched to
  Liskeard, and tooke it without delay, all their men flying from it
  before we came, and so I hope we are now againe in ye way to settle
  the country in peace. All our Cornish Grandies were present at the
  battell with the Scotch Generall Ruthen, the Somersett Collonels and
  the horse Captains Pim and Tomson, and but for their horses' speed had
  been all in our hands; let my sister and my cossens of Clovelly, with
  ye other friends, understande of God's mercy to us, and we lost not a
  man. So I rest

                            'Yours ever,
                                  'BEVILL GRENVILE.

  'Liskeard, Jan. 19, 1642.
     'For the Lady Grace Grenvile
         at Stow. d. d.

  'The messenger is paide, yet give him a shilling more.'

As a result of the battle, Saltash was now relieved, many prisoners,
guns, and a frigate were taken there, and the Parliamentary leaders
were reduced to propose (ineffectually, however) the neutrality of
Cornwall and Devon in the conflict. We next hear of Sir Bevill's being,
in conjunction with Sir Ralph Hopton, after a sudden and forced march
from Plymouth, attacked at Launceston; but the Cornish forces repulsed
their assailants and drove them back into Devonshire. Such was the
reputation of this gallant little force that it was now determined to
send an army of 7,000 men against them, and the battle of Stratton,
almost within sight of the old Grenville seat at Stow, ensued; in
which the Parliamentarians, though two to one, were again defeated.
Sir Bevill once more led the van of the King's army; and Clarendon
thus describes the engagement in language so vivid, that we almost see
the cavaliers as they dashed, all plumed and crimson-scarfed, through
fields of blood:

    'Then "Spur and sword!" was the battle-word, and we made their
          helmets ring,
    Shouting like madmen all the while, "For God and for the King!"
    And, though they snuffled psalms, to give the rebel dogs their due,
    When the roaring shot poured thick and hot they were stalwart men
          and true.'

Thus Clarendon:

  'In this manner the fight begun: the King's forces pressing, with
  their utmost vigour, up the hill, and the enemies as obstinately
  defending their ground. The fight continued with very doubtful
  success, till towards three of the clock in the afternoon; when
  word was brought to the chief officers of the Cornish that their
  ammunition was spent to less than four barrels of powder; which
  (concealing the defect from the soldiers) they resolved could only be
  supplied with courage; and therefore, by messengers to one another,
  they agreed to advance with their full bodies, without making any
  more shot, till they reached the top of the hill, and so might be
  upon even ground with the enemy; wherein the officers' courage and
  resolution was so well seconded by the soldiers, that they begun
  to get ground in all places; and the enemy, in wonder of the men,
  who out-faced their shot with their swords, to quit their post.
  Major-General Chudlegh, who ordered the battle, failed in no part
  of a soldier; and when he saw his men recoil from less numbers, and
  the enemy in all places gaining the hill upon him, himself advanced,
  with a good stand of pikes, upon that party which was led by Sir John
  Berkley and Sir Bevil Grenville, and charged them so smartly that
  he put them into disorder; Sir Bevil Grenville in the shock being
  borne to the ground, but, quickly relieved by his companion, they so
  re-inforced the charge that having killed most of the assailants, and
  dispersed the rest, they took the Major-General prisoner, after he
  had behaved himself with as much courage as a man could do. Then the
  enemy gave ground apace, inasmuch as the four parties, growing nearer
  and nearer as they ascended the hill, between three and four of the
  clock, they all met together upon one ground near the top of the
  hill, where they embraced with unspeakable joy, each congratulating
  the other's success, and all acknowledging the wonderful blessing
  of God; and being there possessed of some of the enemy's cannon,
  they turned them upon the camp, and advanced together to the perfect
  victory. But the enemy no sooner understood the loss of their
  Major-General but their hearts failed them; and being so resolutely
  pressed, and their ground lost, upon the security and advantage
  whereof they wholly depended, some of them threw down their arms,
  and others fled, dispersing themselves, and every man shifting for
  himself.

  'This victory,' pursues the historian, 'was in substance, as well
  as circumstance, as signal a one as hath happened to either party
  since the unhappy distraction; for on the King's party were not lost
  in all above four score men, whereof few were officers, and none
  above the degree of a captain; and though many more were hurt, not
  above ten men died afterwards of their wounds. On the Parliament
  side, notwithstanding their advantage of ground, and that the other
  were the assailants, above three hundred were slain on the place,
  and seventeen hundred taken prisoners with their Major-General and
  above thirty other officers. They took likewise all their baggage and
  tents, all their cannon, being, as was said before, thirteen pieces
  of brass ordnance, and a brass mortar-piece: all their ammunition,
  being seventy barrels of powder, and all other sorts of ammunition
  proportionable, and a very great magazine of bisket and other
  excellent provisions of victuals; which was as seasonable a blessing
  as the victory, to those who for three or four days before had
  suffered great want of food as well as sleep, and were equally tired
  with duty and hunger.'

Perhaps I may be excused for mentioning here that Camden quotes
approvingly from Johannes Sarisburiensis a tribute to Cornish valour,
and that Michael Cornubiensis has also referred to the subject in the
following lines:

              'Rex Arcturus nos primos Cornubienses
    Bellum facturus vocat, ut puta Cæsaris enses
    Nobis non aliis, reliquis, dat primitus ictum
    Per quem pax lisque, nobis fit utrumque relictum
    Quid nos deterret, si firmiter in pede stemus,
    Fraus ni nos superet, nihil est quod non supremus.'

Charles was not unmindful of the gallant Sir Bevill's share in the
fight, as will be seen from 'His Majestie's letter to Sir Bevill
Granvill after the great victory obtained over the Rebels, at the
Battle of Stratton:'

  'To our Right Trusty and Well beloved Sir Bevill Granvill at our Army
  in Cornwall.

    'CHARLES R.

  'Right Trusty and Well beloved wee greet you Well. Wee have seen
  your Letter to Endymion Porter Our Servant: But your whole conduct
  of Our Affairs in the West, doth speak your Zeal to Our Service
  and the Public Good in so full a Measure; as Wee Rest abundantly
  satisfy'd with the Testimony thereof. Your labours and your Expenses
  Wee are graciously Sensible of, and Our Royall Care hath been to ease
  you in all that Wee could. What hath fallen short of Our Princely
  Purposes, and your Expections, Wee know you will attribute to the
  great malignity of the Rebellion Wee had, and have here to wrestle
  withall; And Wee know well, how effectually a diversion of that
  mischievous strength you have made from us at your own hazzards. Wee
  assure you Wee have all tender sense of the hardness you have endured
  and the State wherein you stand: Wee shall not fail to procure you
  what speedy relief may be: In the mean space Wee send you Our most
  hearty thanks for some encouragement, and assurances in the Word of a
  Gracious Prince, that (God enabling us) Wee shall so reflect upon your
  faithfull Services, as you and yours shall have cause to acknowledge
  Our Bounty and Favours: And so Wee bid you heartily farewell. Given
  at Our Court at Oxford the 24th March, 1642/3.'

Cornwall was thus cleared of the enemy, and secured for the King; and
the Cornish infantry were available for service elsewhere: they were
accordingly re-inforced by a body of cavalry under Prince Maurice,
and the combined troops met at Chard. Clarendon pauses to praise the
loyal spirit evinced by the Cornishmen, who, notwithstanding their
late gallant victories, now found themselves--both officers and
men--overshadowed by the superior military rank allotted to their new
associates. Nor were they less remarkable for their discipline and
conduct. 'The Chief Commanders of the Cornish army,' says the great
historian, 'had restrained their soldiers from all manner of licence,
obliging them to frequent acts of devotion; insomuch that the fame of
their religion and discipline was no less than of their courage.'

A junction with the King's troops at Oxford was the next object of the
Royalists in the west; and they accordingly advanced through Taunton
and Bridgewater upon Wells, where they fell upon the advanced guard of
Waller's forces, which they routed and drove back upon Bath. Here the
Parliamentarian General awaited, upon Lansdowne Hill, the advance of
the victorious and elated troops of the King. We cannot do better than
once again listen to the tale of the fight as told in Clarendon's own
words:

  'It was upon the 5th of July, 1643, when Sir Wm. Waller, as soon
  as it was light, possessed himself of that hill; and after he had
  upon the brow of the hill, over the highway, raised breast-works
  with faggots and earth, and planted cannon there, he sent a strong
  party of horse towards Marsfield; which quickly alarmed the other
  army, and was shortly driven back to their body. As great a mind as
  the King's forces had to cope with the enemy, when they had drawn
  into battalion, and found the enemy fixed on the top of the hill,
  they resolved not to attack them upon so great disadvantage, and
  so retired again towards their old quarters: which Sir Wm. Waller
  perceiving, sent his whole body of horse and dragoons down the hill,
  to charge the rear and flank of the King's forces; which they did
  thoroughly, the regiment of cuirassiers so amazing the horse they
  charged, that they totally routed them; and, standing firm and
  unshaken themselves, gave so great terror to the King's horse, who
  had never before turned from an enemy, that no example of their
  officers, who did their parts with invincible courage, could make
  them charge with the same confidence, and in the same manner they
  had usually done. However, in the end, after Sir Nicholas Slanning,
  with 300 musqueteers, had fallen upon, and beaten their reserve of
  dragooners, Prince Maurice, and the Earl of Carnarvon, rallying
  their horse, and winging them with the Cornish musqueteers, charged
  the enemy's horse again, and totally routed them; and in the same
  manner received two bodies more, and routed and chased them to the
  hill; where they stood in a place almost inaccessible. On the brow
  of the hill there were breast-works, on which were pretty bodies
  of small shot, and some cannon; on either flank grew a pretty thick
  wood towards the declining of the hill, in which strong parties of
  musqueteers were placed; at the rear was a very fair plain, where the
  reserves of horse and foot stood ranged, _yet the Cornish foot were
  so far from being appalled at this disadvantage, that they desired to
  fall on, and cried out "That they might have leave to fetch off those
  cannon."_[29] In the end order was given to attempt the hill with
  horse and foot. 'Two strong parties of musqueteers were sent into the
  woods, which flanked the enemy; and the horse and other musqueteers
  up the roadway, which were charged by the enemy's horse and routed;
  then Sir Bevil Grenville advanced with a party of horse on his right
  hand, that ground being best for them, and his musqueteers on his
  left, himself leading up his pikes in the middle; and in the face
  of their cannon, and small shot from the breast-works, gained the
  brow of the hill, having sustained two full charges of the enemy's
  horse; but in the third charge his horse failing, and giving ground,
  he received, after other wounds, a blow on the head with a poll-axe,
  with which he fell, and many of his officers about him;[30] yet the
  musqueteers fired so fast on the enemy's horse, that they quitted
  their ground, and the two wings who were sent to clear the woods,
  having done their work, and gained those parts of the hill, at the
  same time beat off their enemy's foot, and became possessed of the
  breast-works, and so made way for their whole body of horse, foot,
  and cannon, to ascend the hill, which they quickly did, and planted
  themselves on the ground they had won; the enemy retiring about
  demy-culverin shot, behind a stone wall upon the same level, and
  standing in reasonable good order.

  'Either party was sufficiently tired and battered, to be contented to
  stand still. The King's horse were so shaken, that of 2000 which were
  upon the field in the morning, there were not above 600 on the top
  of the hill; so that, exchanging only some shot from their ordnance,
  they looked upon one another till the night interposed. About twelve
  of the clock, the night being very dark, the enemy made a show of
  moving towards the ground they had lost; but giving a smart volly
  of small shot, and finding themselves answered with the like, they
  made no more noise; which the Prince observing, he sent a common
  soldier to hearken as near the place where they were, as he could;
  who brought word, That the enemy had left lighted matches in the wall
  behind which they had lain, and were drawn off the field; which was
  true; so that as soon as it was day, the King's army found themselves
  possessed entirely of the field, and the dead, and all other ensigns
  of victory: Sir Wm. Waller being marched into Bath, in so much
  disorder and apprehension, that he had left great store of arms, and
  ten barrels of powder, behind him, which was a very seasonable supply
  to the other side, who had spent in that day's service no less than
  four score barrels, and had not a safe proportion left.'

It is believed in the West that Sir Bevill was attended at the Battle
of Lansdowne by one of his servants from Stow--Anthony Paine, the
Cornish Giant, of whom Mr. Stokes tells us that

    'His sword was made to match his size,
      As Roundheads did remember;
    And when it swung 'twas like the whirl
      Of windmills in September.'

And there is a further tradition that, on seeing his master fall,
Anthony at once clapped John Grenville (afterwards first Earl of Bath),
then a youth of sixteen, on his father's steed in order to prevent
the Royalist troops from being discouraged. Anthony measured, so it
is said, seven feet two inches in height. He was present, not only at
Lansdowne, but at the fight on Stamford Hill, and remained on the field
that night to assist in burying the dead, after his master had returned
home to Stow. At the 'Tree' Inn, Stratton (said to have been the
headquarters of the Royalists on the night preceding that battle), the
hole in the ceiling is still shown through which, years afterwards, the
corpse of poor Anthony was removed from the room in which he died--his
coffin being too long to be taken out of the window or down the stairs
in the usual way.

Thus did the worthy retainer write to his mistress on the terrible day
of Lansdowne fight; at least so Mr. Hawker assures us:

  'Honored Madam. Ill news flieth apace. The heavy tidings no doubt hath
  already traveled to Stow that we have lost our blessed master by the
  enemy's advantage. You must not, dear lady, grieve too much for your
  noble spouse. You know, as we all believe, that his soul was in heaven
  before his bones were cold. He fell, as he did often tell us he wished
  to die, in the great Stewart cause, for his Country and his King. He
  delivered to me his last commands, and with such tender words for you
  and for his children as are not to be set down with my poor pen, but
  must come to your ears upon my best heart's breath. Master John, when
  I mounted him upon his father's horse, rode him into the war like a
  young prince, as he is, and our men followed him with their swords
  drawn and with tears in their eyes. They did say they would kill a
  rebel for every hair of Sir Bevill's beard. But I bade them remember
  their good master's word when he wiped his sword after Stamford fight:
  how he said, when their cry was "Stab and slay!"--"Halt, men! God will
  avenge." I am coming down with the mournfullest load that ever a poor
  servant did bear, to bring the great heart that is cold to Kilkhampton
  vault. O! my lady, how shall I ever brook your weeping face? But I
  will be trothful to the living and to the dead.

  'These, honoured Madam, from thy saddest, truest Servant,

                                'ANTHONY PAYNE.'

Anthony was, at the Restoration made 'Halberdier of the Guns' at
Plymouth Citadel, and Sir Godfrey Kneller was commissioned by the King
to paint Anthony's portrait. It was engraved as a frontispiece to the
1st vol. of C. S. Gilbert's 'History of Cornwall,' and the picture
itself was afterwards sold for £800. And here it may perhaps be added
that at the siege of Plymouth another Cornish man, John Langherne,
of Tregavethan, of huge strength and stature, being seven feet six
inches high, 'Rid up,' as Tonkin tells us, 'to one of the gates of the
Town, and stuck his sword in it so deep that two strong men could not
possibly pull it out.'--(Borlase's Additional MSS.)

It is gratifying to learn that the Cornishmen demeaned themselves so
well at Lansdowne; but the victory was far too dearly bought. Clarendon
goes on to say:

  'In this battle, on the King's part, there were more officers and
  gentlemen of quality slain, than common men; and more hurt than slain.
  That which would have clouded any victory, and made the loss of others
  less spoken of, was the death of Sir Bevil Grenville. He was indeed
  an excellent person, whose activity, interest, and reputation was
  the foundation of what had been done in Cornwall; and his temper and
  affection so publick, that no accident which happened could make any
  impressions in him; and his example kept others from taking anything
  ill, or at least seeming to do so. In a word, _a brighter courage, and
  a gentler disposition_, were never married together to make the most
  chearful and innocent conversation.' 'Clarendon's immortals,' says
  Forster, 'still lie unwithered' on Sir Bevill's grave.

A monument, erected by his grandson George Lord Lansdowne, marks the
spot where our hero fell.[31] On the north side of the monument was
inscribed:

    'Conquest or death was all his thought, so fire
    Either o'ercomes, or does itself expire.
    His courage work'd like flames, cast heat about,
    Here, there, on this, on that side, none gave out;
    Nor any pike in that renowned stand,
    But took new force from his inspiring hand.
    Soldier encourag'd soldier, man urg'd man,
    And he urg'd all, so much example can.
    Hurt upon hurt, wound upon wound did call,
    He was the mark, the butt, the aim of all;
    His soul this while retired from cell to cell,
    At last flew up from all, and then he fell;
    But the devoted stand enrag'd the more
    From that his fate, played hotter than before;
    And proud to fall with him, sworn not to yield,
    Each sought an honour'd grave, and won the field,
    Thus he being fall'n, his actions fought anew
    And the dead conquer'd, whilst the living flew.'

The remaining lines are those quoted as Sir Bevill's epitaph on the
fine monument to his memory,[32] and to that of the great Sir Richard,
at the old Church of Kilkhampton, where both of them must have often
worshipped. The epitaph runs as follows:

  'To the immortal memory of his renowned grandfather this monument was
  erected by the Right Honorable George, Lord Lansdowne, Treasurer of
  the Household to Queen Anne, and one of her Majesty's Most Honorable
  Privy Council, &c., in the year 1714.

    'Thus slain thy valiant ancestor did lye,
    When his one bark a navy did defy,
    When now encompass'd round the victor stood,
    And bath'd his pinnace in his conquering blood,
    Till, all his purple current dried and spent,
    He fell, and made the waves his monument.
    Where shall the next famed Grenville's ashes stand?
    Thy grandsire fills _the seas_, and thou the land.

                               'MARTIN LLEWELLYN.'

  (_Vide also Oxford University Verses, printed 1643._)

Mrs. Delany has stated that Sir Bevill had the patent for an Earldom
in his pocket on the day of the fatal fight at Lansdowne; and in this
there seems nothing improbable, as his youngest daughter, Joan, or
Johanna, had a patent of precedence as an Earl's daughter.

We have seen something of Sir Bevill's epistolary productions; and, if
we are to accept the testimony of the Rev. S. Baring-Gould, the writer
of the biography of the Rev. R. S. Hawker, some specimens of Lady
Grace's were preserved under the following singular circumstances:

One day, he tells us, Mrs. Hawker, the first wife of the Vicar of
Morwenstow, when lunching at Stow in the farmhouse, noticed that a
letter in old handwriting was wrapped round the mutton bone that was
brought on the table. Moved by curiosity, she took the paper off,
and showed it to Mr. Hawker. On examination it was found that the
letter bore the signature of Sir Bevill Grenville. Mr. Hawker at
once instituted inquiries, and found a large chest full of letters
of different members of the Grenville family in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries. He at once communicated with Lord Carteret,
owner of Stow, and the papers were removed, but by some unfortunate
accident they were lost! The only ones saved were a packet removed from
the chest by Mr. Davis, Rector of Kilkhampton, previous to their being
sent away from Stow. These were copied by Miss Manning, of Eastaway, in
Morwenstowe, and her transcript, together with some of the originals,
was said to be in the possession of Ezekiel Rous, Esq., of Bideford.

The following, from Lady Grace to her husband, was probably another of
the letters in the collection said to have been found by Mr. Hawker,
and afterwards so mysteriously lost.

  'For My Best Friend, Sir Bevill Grenville.

  'MY EVER DEAREST,

  'I have received yours from Salisbury, and am glad to hear you came
  so farr well, with poore Jack. Ye shall be sure of my prairs, which
  is the best service I can doe you. I canott perceave whither you had
  receaved mine by Tom, or no, but I believe by this time you have mett
  that and another since by the post. Truly I have been out of frame
  ever since you went, not with a cough, but in another kinde, much
  indisposed. However, I have striven with it, and was at Church last
  Sunday, but not the former. I have been vexed with diverse demands
  made of money than I could satisfie, but I instantly paid what you
  sent, and have intreated Mr. Rous his patience a while longer, as you
  directed.

  'It grieves me to think how chargeable your family is, considering
  your occasion. It hath this many years troubled me to think to what
  passe it must come at last, if it run on after this course. How many
  times what hath appeared hopefull, and yet proved contrary in the
  conclusion, hath befalen us, I am loth to urge, because tis farr from
  my desire to disturbe your thoughts; but this sore is not to be curd
  with silence, or patience either, and while you are loth to discourse
  or thinke of that you can take little comfort to see how bad it is,
  and I was unwilling to strike on that string which sounds harsh in
  your eare (the matter still grows worse, though). I can never putt it
  out of my thoughts, and that makes me often times seeme dreaming to
  you, when you expect I should sometimes observe more complement with
  my frends, or be more active in matters of curiousity in our House,
  which doubtlesse you would have been better pleasd with had I been
  capable to have performd it, and I believe though I had a naturall
  dullness in me, it would never so much have appeard to my prejudice,
  but twas increasd by a continuance of sundry disasters, which I still
  mett with, yet never till this yeare, but I had some strength to
  encounter them, and truly now I am soe cleane overcome, as tis in
  vaine to deny a truth. It seems to me now tis high time to be sensible
  that God is displeased, having had many sad remembrances in our
  estate and children late, yet God spard us in our children long, and
  when I strive to follow your advice in moderating my grieffe (which
  I praise God) I have thus farr been able to doe as not to repine at
  God's will, though I have a tender sence of griefe which hangs on me
  still, and I think it as dangerous and improper to forgett it, for
  I cannott but think it was a neer touched correction, sent from God
  to check me for my many neglects of my duty to God. It was the tenth
  and last plague God smote the Egyptians with, the deathe of their
  first borne, before he utterly destroyed them, they persisting in
  their disobedience notwithstanding all their former punishments. This
  apprehension makes me both tremble and humbly beseech Him to withdraw
  His punishments from us, and to give us grace to know and amend
  whatever is amisse. Now I have pourd out my sad thoughts which in your
  absence doth most oppresse me, and tis my weakness hardly to be able
  to say thus much unto you, how brimfull soever my heart be, though
  oftentimes I heartely wish I could open my heart truly unto you when
  tis overchargd. But the least thought it may not be pleasing to you
  will at all times restraine me. Consider me rightly, I beseech you,
  and excuse, I pray, the liberty I take with my pen in this kinde. And
  now at last I must thanke you for wishing me to lay aside all feare,
  and depend on the Almighty, who can only helpe us; for his mercy I
  daily pray, and your welfare, and our poore boys; so I conclude, and
  am ever your faithfully and only

                                     'GRACE GRENVILLE.

    'Stow, Nov. 23, 1641.'

  'I sent yours to Mr. Prust, but this from him came after mine was gone
  last weeke. Ching is gone to Cheddar. I looke for Bawden, but as yet
  is not come. Sir Rob. Bassett is dead.

  'I heard from my cosen Grace Weekes, who writes that Mr. Luttrell says
  if you could meete the liking between the young people, he will not
  stand for money you shall finde. Parson Weekes wishes you would call
  with him, and that he might entice you to take the Castle in your way
  downe. She says they enquire in the most courteous maner that can be
  imagind. Deare love, thinke how to farther this what you can.'

The following is said to have been an earlier letter by many years,
written when Grace was a wife of six years' standing:

  'SWEET MR. GRENVILE,

  'I cannott let Mr. Oliver passe without a line though it be only to
  give you thankes for yours, which I have receaved. I will in all
  things observe your directions as neer as I can, and because I have
  not time to say much now I will write againe tomorrow ( ... something
  torn away) and think you shall receave advertizment concerning us much
  as you desyre. I can not say I am well, neither have I bin so since I
  saw you, but, however, I will pray for your health, and good successe
  in all businesses, and pray be so kinde as to love her who takes no
  comfort in anything but you, and will remayne yours ever and only

                                       'GRACE GRENVILE.

  'Fryday night, Nov. 13, 1629.'

The superscription of this letter is:

  'To my ever dearest and best Friend, Mr. Bevill Grenvile, at the
  Rainbow, in Fleet Street.'

The other letters in this collection--alleged to have been so strangely
discovered--will be found enumerated in the Appendix to Mr. Gould's
'Life of Hawker.'

There are many portraits of Sir Bevill Grenville. One is in Prince's
'Worthies of Devon;' another in Lloyd's 'Worthies;' and one, by Dobson,
is in the fine collection at Petworth Park. Here also is a group
described as Sir Bevill Grenville, Anne St. Leger (his grandmother!)
and John Earl of Bath, their son--after Vandyck.

What can be added to such tributes as those which we have just read
but that, in Sir Bevill Grenville's case at least, 'the good was _not_
interred with his bones;'[33] his valiant spirit continued to animate
his friends and followers, and prompted their valour on Roundway Down,
at the siege of Bristol, and--when one of the last gleams of success
shone upon the Royal cause--when Essex's infantry surrendered to the
King in person, at Fowey. On the latter occasion Sir Richard, brother
of Sir Bevill, held and fortified Hall House, on the eastern side of
the harbour, for the King: he had previously captured Restormel Castle
near Lostwithiel.

Then there soon came a time when, as Macaulay says, England had
to witness spectacles such as these: 'Major-Generals fleecing
their districts--soldiers revelling on the spoils of a ruined
peasantry--upstarts, enriched by the public plunder, taking
possession of the hospitable firesides and hereditary trees
of the old gentry--boys smashing the beautiful windows of
cathedrals--Fifth-Monarchy men shouting for King Jesus--Quakers riding
naked through the market-place--and agitators lecturing from tubs on
the fate of Agag.'


'Where,' asked Dr. Llewellyn, the Principal of St. Mary Hall, Oxford,
in the stilted style of the day in which he wrote:

    'Where shall next famous Grenvil's ashes stand?
    Thy grandsire fills the sea--and thou the land.'

The answer to which question must be that the next famous
Grenville--Sir Bevill's eldest son, Sir John--was destined to become
a conspicuous figure in the field of Diplomacy. He even attained to a
higher rank than his father, soon after the Stuart cause became once
more triumphant. Leaving Gloucester Hall, Oxford,--where he was a
Gentleman Commoner,--when only fifteen years of age, he commanded his
father's regiment in the west; and at the second battle of Newbury (to
which he brought his Cornish troops) he was wounded, and left for dead
on the field. He had received a dangerous wound in the head from a
halberd, and was carried to the King and Prince of Wales, who ordered
him to be taken care of in Donnington Castle hard by. The Castle was
soon after besieged, and the bullets constantly whistled through his
sick-room; but the boy-warrior at last came safely off. When the Scilly
Isles revolted from the Parliament and became the last rallying-point
of the Royalists, he it was who (like one of his ancestors) was made
Governor, for the King--taking up his quarters at Elizabeth Castle on
St. Mary's Island. But the Parliamentary Admirals, Blake and Ayscough,
appeared before Scilly with so overwhelming a force, that Sir John
Grenville thought it best to capitulate; extorting, however, such
favourable terms that, until Blake represented to what an extent his
own honour was involved in their confirmation, the Parliament refused
to recognise them. It is said that Sir John had with him commissioned
officers enough to 'head an army.'

Sir John Grenville, although he now returned quietly to Stow, was by
no means unmindful of his royal master, and soon opened negotiations
with his cousin George Monk (afterwards Duke of Albemarle), who became
the well known chief instrument in the restoration of Charles II. A
brother of Monk's (afterwards Bishop of Hereford), who was at this
time in Cornwall, having been appointed by the Grenvilles to the
living of Kilkhampton, seems to have been the medium of this dangerous
intercourse; but our Sir John managed matters with such loyalty,
courage, and discretion, that all ultimately went well for the Royal
cause.[34] He had at one time accompanied Charles into exile, and
was one of the Commissioners, known as the 'Sealed Knot' from their
secrecy, appointed to conduct the affairs of the King in England during
his absence; and though Sir John Grenville could not obtain from
Monk (who was determined upon being supreme in the transaction) the
stipulations which even Charles's most loyal friends thought desirable
for the future, events proved that it would have been well if more
weight had been attached to the suggestions of the sagacious Cornish
Knight and his colleagues. So highly, however, were his fidelity and
wisdom esteemed, that he was selected to present to Parliament the
King's proposals from Breda: an office which he discharged with such
efficiency as to obtain the thanks of both Houses, and a jewel worth
£500, as well as a ring worth £300 from the Common Council, for his
services at this important crisis. (Cf. also Thurloe's 'State Papers,'
Grammont's 'Memoirs,' Clarendon's Correspondence and Diary, and Dr.
John Price's 'Mystery and Method of His Majesty's Happy Restoration,'
dedicated to the Earl of Bath.) Pepys describes the circumstances,
and tells us how, on 2nd March, 1660, Parliament continued bareheaded
whilst the King's letter was being read.[35]

The favours of royalty were also showered upon Grenville--though
Charles II. was apt to be unmindful of his friends in the past--and Sir
John was made a Secretary of State, and was created Lord Grenville, of
Kilkhampton and Bytheford, Viscount Grenville of Lansdowne, and Earl of
Bath; with a pension of £3,000 a year to be paid out of the Stannaries,
of which he was made Lord Warden, and a reversion to the Dukedom of
Albemarle. He also received the Royal Licence to use his titles of
Earl of Corboile, Thorigny, and Granville. Of the architectural merits
of his 'new house' at Stow, built for him, it is said, by the King,
Kingsley writes in disparaging terms, as we have seen. He married
Jane, the daughter of Sir Peter Wiche or Wych, by whom he left a
noble offspring. The eldest son, Charles, second Earl of Bath, died
in 1701,--twelve days after his father; the second son, John, who was
created Baron Grenville of Potheridge in 1703, died in 1707; and the
male line became extinct on the death, from small-pox, of his son
William Henry, third Earl of Bath, in 1771.

James II., however, seems to have shown the Earl of Bath--who was a
staunch Protestant--little favour. So Grenville declared for the Prince
of Orange; and, having first seized Plymouth citadel, admitted the
Dutch fleet into that harbour; his nephew Bevill performing a similar
service with his uncle's own regiment at Jersey. King William III.
consequently created him a member of his Privy Council, and continued
him in his previous offices.

The Earl's eldest son, Charles, was accidentally killed by the
discharge of a pistol at his father's funeral; and the title
consequently devolved upon his son William Henry, thus giving rise to
the observation that at one time there were 'three Earls of Bath above
ground at the same time.' From the first Earl descended, in the female
line, the present representatives of the family--the Thynnes, not
unknown to fame.


And Sir Bevill had another son, Dennis, who was by no means
undistinguished in his own walk of life. Born in 1636/7, and educated
probably at Eton,[36] he was entered a Gentleman Commoner of Exeter
College, Oxford, on 22nd Sept., 1657; took his degree of M.A. on 28th
Sept., 1660, and that of D.D. on 20th Dec, 1670. Kilkhampton was his
first preferment, though he does not appear to have taken up residence
there. He was Chaplain in Ordinary to Charles II.; and in 1684 was
made Archdeacon and Dean of Durham. But he was a true Grenville in his
attachment to the Stuarts; and early in 1690 went into exile with James
II., residing at Corbeil, in France (near the place whence his family
are supposed to have sprung), rather than acknowledge William III. as
his sovereign. He left several works behind him, and died in Paris in
1703.

There are many incidents, however, connected with his career which seem
to require a fuller notice of the Cavalier Dean. The command, 'Fear
God,' scarcely commended itself more forcibly to his conscience than
its complement 'Honour the King;' and, although he was in a _very_
small minority, his high-minded consistency and loyalty were such,
that, whatever we may think of his prudence, or of the practicability
of his views, we are bound, I think, to honour the man who chose rather
to sacrifice the highest preferments than to swear allegiance to one
whom he, at least, regarded as an invader and a usurper.

There are full details of the latter part of his career preserved
in the library of the Dean and Chapter of Durham, from which I have
gathered most of the following accounts.

He married Ann, daughter of Bishop Cosin (an unhappy union, for her
husband--and two physicians confirmed his statement--alleged that the
lady was subject to fits of temporary insanity), at a time when the
Church of England was in sad disorder, and when vigorous, earnest
spirits were wanted to remedy the listless slovenliness of many of her
clergy.

Dennis Grenville was equal to the trying occasion. He found that the
Church services were often either curtailed or omitted altogether;
many of the churches were 'altogether unprovided of ministers';
and the fabrics themselves were 'ruinous and in great decay.' Not
only the minor Canons and singing men, but even many of the highest
dignitaries were guilty, according to Cosin,[37] of sluttish and
disorderly habits, even in the cathedrals themselves; and the Rubrics
and Canons were almost ignored. But, as Parish Priest, as Prebendary,
and as Archdeacon, and afterwards, especially in securing a weekly
celebration of the Holy Communion in his own cathedral, Dennis
Grenville laboured so earnestly and so conscientiously, as to warrant
his promotion, young as he was, to the post of Dean.

His rapid advancement, however, seems to have almost turned his head;
he became ambitious and extravagant, was frequently absent from his
post, and fell into pecuniary troubles (aggravated by the non-payment
of an expected marriage portion with his wife) which, almost to the
last, hung like a millstone round his neck. On the 8th of July, 1674,
on returning from public prayers and Captain Foster's funeral, he was
actually arrested 'in his Hood and Surplice' for debt, within the
cloisters; and although he was afterwards released as a Chaplain in
Ordinary of the King, and though the bailiffs and the Under Sheriff who
were responsible for his arrest were reprimanded before the Council
Board at Hampton Court, yet the indignity seems to have entered into
the Dean's very soul, producing, however, more than one good result,
viz. the more economical management of his resources, and salutary
counsels to his nephew at Oxford, published in 1685. He was a capital
preacher, but a bad man of business: '"I cannot manage nor mind these
money affairs," is his own candid confession,' observes the Rev. George
Ormsby, in his interesting memoir.

Of the Dean's management of his own household full details are
preserved; they will probably be found interesting here as showing how
a Church dignitary lived two hundred years ago: one who was always
at work on the scheme of reformation to which he had laid his hands,
and who seems to have taken for his model George Herbert's 'Country
Parson.' This book he recommended to his curates, and to all the clergy
in his jurisdiction, 'for their rule and direction in order to the
exemplary discharge of their functions, having always made it mine.'
The Diocese of Durham, under such auspices as those of Cosin and
Grenville, (notwithstanding the incapacity of the latter to properly
manage his money affairs,) accordingly improved rapidly in tone, until
the Dean was at length able to report to the King that it was 'without
dispute the most exemplary county for good order and conformity of any
in the nation.'

These, then, were amongst Dean Grenville's thirty-two Home Rules:

  '1. That all persons should labour to contrive their businesse soe as
  to be present at God's service in the Church, as often as possible,
  not only on publick daies but private ones; never staying at home
  (any one) but in cases of infirmity, or of some necessary lawfull
  impediment.'

  '3. That as soon as the bells of the Church begin to ring or toll, all
  persons who intend to goe to the Church at that time shall begin to
  put themselves in readinesse, and wait for mee in the parlour and the
  hall, that they may all goe forth with mee at the same time (for which
  purpose there shall be given one toll of my House bell) and accompany
  mee to the Church, not dropping in one after another after service is
  begun.'

  '5. That all persons of my family shall carry their Bibles and Common
  Prayer-books to the Church with them, and use them in the performance
  of the Service and Lessons.

  '6. That when I keep daily labourers in the summer time, or have any
  number of servants imployed without doores, that must goe to their
  worke abroad, before the houre of morning prayers, that they repaire
  to my house, and have some short prayers in my hall at five of the
  clock, or at such houre and in such manner as I shall appoint.'

  '11. That in case the worke and imployment of my house bee too much
  to bee dispatched in the forenoon or before Evening Prayers on such
  daies, I doe allow of the hiring one, two or three women for the
  spedier dispatch of the same.

  '12. That I allow all my domesticks some time every day for private
  prayer and reading of the Scriptures (nay, doe in the Name of God
  injoyne every person to imploy some to that purpose), and that every
  person may have some reasonable time and liberty for devotion, and not
  be oppressed with too much businesse, I am willing to keep a servant
  or two more than would bee other wise necessary.'

  '14. That all persons playing at any game (tho' they are in the middle
  of a game) shall breake it off and cease their play, soe soon as the
  bell tolls for prayers, either in church or chaple, or as soon as the
  Butler appears with the things to lay the cloth for dinner or supper.

  '15. That there shall bee noe playing in my family at any game on the
  Vigills and other fasting daies of the Church, nor on Fridaies and
  Saturdaies (unlesse within the 12 daies of Christmasse), but that
  what time shall be gained from necessary businesse bee better imployed
  in devotion, reading, good conference or the like.

  '16. That to the former end and purpose I doe order my chesseboard,
  bowles, and all other things relating to such games (as I doe allow)
  to be locked up on Thursday night till Monday morning, as alsoe on
  other daies before mentioned.

  '17. That I allow of noe great game for any considerable summe to bee
  played in my family, nor indeed of any at all when my poor box is
  forgotten, which I doe recommend more earnestly than my Butler's.

  '18. That at nine o'clock, our family prayers being ended, all
  persons shall repair to their chambers; and are desired to dismisse
  the servants soe soon as possible, that they may put the house in
  order, and go to their beds near ten of the clock or by eleven at
  farthest....'

  '20. That my house bell be rung every morning at 5 in the winter, and
  about 4 in the summer to awaken my family, and alarume my servants to
  arise, and to give opportunity and incouragement to early risers, who
  are alwaies the most welcome persons to my family.'

  '25. That there shall bee no dinners on Wednesdaies and Fridaies in
  Lent.'

       *       *       *       *       *

But James II.'s 'Second Declaration of Indulgence,' 7th April, 1688, an
attempt to divide the Protestant party, and to secure the favour of the
Non-conformists after having failed to seduce from their allegiance
the leaders of the Church of England, placed the Dean in a most trying
position. His loyalty to his Church was in conflict with his loyalty to
his Sovereign; and the latter prevailed: 'If the King goes beyond his
Commission, he must answer for it to God, but I'le not deface one line
thereof. Let my liege and dread Sovereign intend to do what he pleases
to me or mine: yet my hand shall never be upon him, so much as to cut
off the skirt of his garment.' Not only (to the Dean's intense grief)
did his elder brother, the Earl of Bath, now desert the Stuart cause,
but another Cornish Church dignitary of this period--Bishop Jonathan
Trelawney--took the bolder course of opposing the King's views, thus
exemplifying the old Cornish saying that a _Trelawny never wanted
courage, nor a Grenville loyalty_. It is needless to repeat that the
Dean of Durham found himself in a _very_ small minority.

His loyalty was about to undergo another and a severer test. In the
autumn of 1688 news arrived of the projected 'invasion and usurpation,'
as our Dean would always call it, of the Prince of Orange: at once he
summoned his Chapter, prevailed upon them to assist the King's cause
'with their purses as well as their prayers,' and £700 were accordingly
subscribed forthwith. But Lord Lumley pounced upon Durham on the 6th
of December in that year, whilst the Dean was in his pulpit preaching
a sermon, still preserved in the Surtees Collection, on 'Christian
Resignation and Resolution, with some loyal reflexions on the Dutch
Invasion'; and Dr. Grenville was, on his refusal to deliver up his
arms and horses, confined within the walls of his own Deanery during
the occupation of the city by the friends of King William III. Another
similar sermon, however, did he, with undaunted courage, preach on the
following Sunday, notwithstanding his now almost solitary position
amongst his brother clergy. But James's cause was entirely lost; and
our Dean had to fly from Durham to Carlisle at midnight on the 11th
of December, with the help of two faithful servants. At Carlisle he
learned that all was over, and made up his mind to follow his King into
France, if only he could make good his escape by way of Edinburgh. On
his way thither he was roughly handled by a mob, who took him for a
Popish priest and Jesuit, and at eleven at night 'pulled me out of my
bed, rifling my pockets and my chamber, and carrying away my horses
(two geldings worth £40) and my portmantoe, and mounting me on a little
jade not worth 40s.' Once more he was plundered on the road, and
returned to Carlisle, where he preached on Christmas Day, when he says
he hoped that he convinced the people that he was no Romanist.

In the following month, however, he made another attempt--this time
successfully--to reach Edinburgh; and after a long and tedious voyage,
arrived at Honfleur on the 19th March--the very day after James had
left Brest for Ireland, 'a great mortification and disappointment to
mee,' adds Dean Grenville. Rouen was the place which he had fixed upon
for his abode, and thither he removed a few days afterwards, forthwith
setting about writing remonstrances to his Bishop, his brother, and
his 'lapsed assistants,' his Curates; printing his sermons, to which
reference has just been made, and also his 'Loyall farewell Visitation
Speech,' delivered on 15th November, 1688.[38]

Little remains to be told of him, but that he was formally deprived on
the appointed date of 1st February, 1690/1, and his goods and chattels
were distrained by the Sheriff, in consequence of his continued
pecuniary embarrassments; his library, also, which was very rich in
Bibles and Prayer-books, was purchased by Sir George Wheeler; and the
Chapter had to grant the unhappy Mrs. Grenville an allowance of £80 a
year 'in compassion to her necessities.' She died twelve years before
her husband, and was buried in Durham Cathedral.

Nor did James, to whose Court at St. Germains Dennis Grenville shortly
afterwards repaired, by any means console his faithful servant for
the troubles and trials he had undergone in his King's behalf. 'He
was slighted,' says Surtees, in his 'History of Durham,' 'by the
bigoted Prince, for whom he had forfeited every worldly possession,
because he would not also abandon his religion.'[39] In fact, the Dean
was at length compelled to retire from the Court to Corbeil, his
ancestral home, about twenty miles from Paris, in consequence of the
indignities heaped upon him there by his ecclesiastical opponents,
and by their persistent, though vain, attempts to draw him into
polemical discussions. Whilst in France, he sometimes went by the
name of Corbeil--sometimes by the name of Stotherd; and here it may
be added, that Mr. H. R. Fox Bourne, in his 'Life of John Locke,'
mentions that the illustrious metaphysician and Dean Grenville were
old friends, and that they corresponded in 1677-78 on the subjects of
Recreation and Scrupulosity. Copies of the letters are in the British
Museum, Additional MSS. 4290. Mr. Bourne states that James II. actually
appointed Dean Grenville Roman Catholic Archbishop of York.[40]

Two furtive journeys did he make to England, in disguise--one in
February, 1689-90, 'whereby he got a small sum of money to subsist
while abroad ... tho' with much trouble and danger occasioned him
by an impertinent and malitious post master, who discovered him in
Canterbury;' and once again in 1695, probably with the same object.
In 1702 he wrote an amusing letter to his nephew, Sir George Wheeler,
acknowledging 'a seasonable supply' of £20, from which it may be
gathered that he preserved to the last his unbroken and cheerful
spirit. But, in the following year, on Wednesday, the 8th April, 1703,
at six in the morning, the exiled, supplanted, and childless Dean of
Durham died--as he asserts, himself, in the preamble of his will--a
true son of the Church of England, at his lodgings at the Fossée St.
Victoire, in Paris, in the sixty-seventh year of his age.

His portrait, admirably engraved by Edelinck, was painted by Beaupoille
when Dean Grenville was fifty-four years of age; a print of it is
prefixed to the copy of his 'Farewell Sermons' preserved in the
Bodleian Library, and there is another copy in the British Museum. His
character may almost be gathered from what we have seen of his life
and works; and it should be added that he was not only of good natural
abilities, but also no mean scholar. His kinsman, Lord Lansdowne,
may have drawn a somewhat too eulogistic account of the Dean; but,
overshadowed as his fame undoubtedly is by the greater names of his
ancestors, Sir Richard and Sir Bevill, it should never be forgotten
that he was an energetic reformer, in very difficult times, of the
Church and the clergy;--though, as he says, '_his_ religion and loyalty
were not of the new cutt, but of the old royall stamp;'--yet he was
the friend of such men as Beveridge and Comber--and, above all, it
should be remembered that, whatever we may think of his judgment, he
undoubtedly performed that rare act of moral heroism, the sacrifice
of his dignities and honours, his ample revenues, all the comforts
of his native land, and, in fact, all his worldly interests, to his
_conscience_.

Well might it have been said of Dennis Grenville that his

    'Loyalty was still the same
    Whether it won or lost the game;
    True as the dial to the sun,
    Altho' it be not shone upon;'

and truly might he have exclaimed, whilst in exile and poverty paying
the penalty of his loyal attachment to the House of Stuart, in the
words of one of the Roxburgh Ballads:

    'Then hang up sorrow and care,
      It never shall make me rue;
    What though my back goes bare?
      I'm ragged and torn and TRUE.'

He wrote to his elder brother--the Earl of Bath--a reproachful letter,
in November, 1689, wherein he says, evidently hoping against hope,
that nothing 'shall convince him that it is possible for one descended
from his dear loyall father Sir Bevill Grenville to dye a rebell;'
but I confess that the sentiment of Dean Grenville's which I prefer
treasuring in my own memory, is the noble and tolerant one with which
he concludes his 'Third Speech' to his clergy:

  'My fourth and last counsell is, to be just to all men, both to
  the Romanist and Dissenter. That your aversion to the doctrine of
  any party (tho' never soe contrary to your owne) should not, in
  any manner, exceed youer love and concerne for the Religion you
  profess.'[41]

To one more only of the Grenvilles does it seem necessary to refer,
as with him the connexion of that illustrious family with Cornwall
ceases: viz., to George Baron Lansdowne, the poet, who was a nephew
of the Dean and a grandson of Sir Bevill. His father's as well as his
brother's name was Bernard. It is true that he did not live at Stow,
which, as we have seen, was no longer the family mansion; but he comes
within our scope: for, in a defence of his grand-uncle, Sir Richard
('Skellum') against some anonymous author who took the side of the
Parliament, I find him writing thus: '_Like an old staunch Cornishman_
I tell you that we, who had before beaten two of your generals into
the sea, might as well have beaten the third:' and again, in a letter,
in 1718, to his 'dearest niece,' Mrs. Delany, he calls Cornwall 'his
country.'

He was entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1667, and was about
the Court of James II., much smitten, it was said, with the charms of
his Queen, Mary of Modena--the Myra, in all probability, of some of
his amatory lines. He wrote both poems and plays, many passages in
which are of a somewhat licentious character: amongst the plays are the
'British Enchanters' (for which Addison wrote the Epilogue); the 'She
Gallants, or once a Lover always a Lover;' and the 'Jew of Venice,'
imitated from Shakespeare. He was Member of Parliament successively for
Fowey, Lostwithiel, Helston, and finally for the county of Cornwall
itself; and was at length made by Queen Anne a Privy Councillor, and
Treasurer of the Household, but, on some silly suspicion of plotting
against the Government, was, in 1715, committed to the Tower, from
which place of confinement, however, he was shortly released. In 1722,
his affairs becoming embarrassed through his somewhat extravagant mode
of life, he went abroad to retrench his expenses; and, returning to
England, died at his house in Hanover Square on the 30th January, 1735.
He had married the widow of Thomas Thynne,[42] and was celebrated for
his tender devotion to his family.

A curious story about his remains is told in Lady Llanover's 'Life
of Mrs. Delany.' No tomb or tablet of any kind marks (in St. Clement
Danes Church) the site of their sepulchre; and when inquiries on this
point were made in 1859, it was found that a short time previous
to that date an order to close a vault under the Church had been
put in force. The coffins in the vault were placed in the centre of
the chamber, a quantity of quicklime was thrown in, and the whole
then filled with rubbish. There were two bodies in the vault which
had always been called 'My Lord and my Lady,' and which were in
extraordinary preservation. They were not skeletons, although the
skin was much dried, and they were very light; they were set upright
against the wall, and it had always been the custom whenever a new
clerk was appointed, to take him down into the vault and introduce him
to 'My Lord and my Lady.' It seems not at all improbable that these
were the corpses of Lord and Lady Lansdowne; and that their remarkable
preservation was due to their having been embalmed. Lord Lansdowne's
portrait may be seen in the 'Life of Mrs. Delany,' vol. i., p. 418. She
says of him: 'No man had more the art of winning the affections where
he wished to oblige ... he was magnificent in his nature, and valued no
expense that would gratify it, which in the end hurt him and his family
extremely.'

Of his character, as a man and as a poet, Anderson thus writes in his
'Poets of Great Britain:'

'The character of Granville seems to have been amiable and respectable.
His good nature and politeness have been celebrated by Pope, and many
other poets of the first eminence. The lustre of his rank no doubt
procured him more incense than the force of his genius would otherwise
have attracted; but he appears not to have been destitute of fine
parts, which were, however, rather elegantly polished than great in
themselves.

'There is perhaps nothing more interesting in his character than the
veneration he had for some, and the tenderness he had for all of
his family. Of the former his historical performances afford some
pleasing proof; of the latter, there are extant two letters, one to his
cousin, the last Earl of Bath, and the other to his cousin, Mr. Bevil
Granville, on his entering into holy orders, written with a tenderness,
a freedom, and an honesty which render them invaluable.

'The general character of his poetry is elegance, sprightliness and
dignity. He is seldom tender, and very rarely sublime. In his smaller
pieces he endeavours to be gay, in his larger to be great. Of his airy
and light productions the chief source is gallantry, and the chief
defect a superabundance of sentiment and illustrations from mythology.
He seldom fetches an amorous sentiment from the depth of science. His
thoughts are such as a liberal conversation and large acquaintance with
life would easily supply. His diction is chaste and elegant, and his
versification, which he borrowed from Waller, is rather smooth than
strong.

'Mr. Granville,' says Dr. Felton, 'is the poetical son of Waller. We
observe with pleasure, similitude of wit in the difference of years,
and with Granville do meet at once the fire of his father's youth, and
judgment of his age. He hath rivalled him in his finest address, and
is as happy as ever he was in raising modern compliments upon ancient
story, and setting off the British valour and the English beauty with
the old gods and goddesses!'

'Granville,' says Lord Orford, 'imitated Waller, but as that poet has
been much excelled since, a faint copy of a faint master must strike
still less.'

The estimate of his poetical character, given by Dr. Johnson, is, in
some respects, less favourable:

'Granville,' says the Doctor, 'was a man illustrious by his birth, and
therefore attracted notice; since he is by Pope styled "the polite," he
must be supposed elegant in his manner, and generally loved; he was in
times of contest and turbulence steady to his party, and obtained that
esteem which is always conferred upon firmness and consistency. With
these advantages, having learned the art of versifying, he declared
himself a poet, and his claim to the laurel was allowed.'

Pope, in a courtier-like passage in his 'Windsor Forest'--a poem which
he dedicated to Lord Granville--says of him:

    'Here his first lays majestic Denham sung;
    Here the last numbers flowed from Cowley's tongue.
     *     *     *     *     *     *
    Since fate relentless stopped their heavenly voice
    No more the forest rings, or groves rejoice;
    Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung
    His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?
    But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings--
    Are these reviv'd? or is it GRANVILLE sings?'

adding,

    'The thoughts of gods let GRANVILLE'S verse recite,
    And bring the scenes of opening fate to light.'

With one more extract from the praises of his contemporaries, and this
the weightiest and most poetic of them all, we will conclude.

Dryden said of him--à propos of his tragedy of 'Heroick Love'--

    'Auspicious poet, wert thou not my friend,
    How could I envy what I must commend?
    But since 'tis Nature's law, in love and wit,
    That youth should reign, and with'ring age submit;
    With less regret these laurels I resign,
    Which, dying on my brow, revive on thine.'

[Illustration: (end of chapter vignette.)]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Camden says they had four other seats, viz., Wolstan, Stanbury,
Clifton and Lanow.

[2] John Graynfylde was Vicar of Morwenstow, 1536; the church was
granted to Sir Richard Grenville, one of the Church Commissioners for
Cornwall, by Henry VIII.

[3] Harl. MSS. 1079; in which their shield has fifty-three quarterings
and three crests.

[4] George Granville, Lord Lansdowne, says, in a note to one of his
poems, that the arms of his family--'gules, three clarions or'--carved
in stone, had stood for nine centuries over one of the gates of the
town of Granville. They also appropriately appear (as the arms of John
Grenville, first Earl of Bath) over the principal gateway of Plymouth
Citadel.

[5] In the fortieth year of Henry III. (1256), I find the name of
Richard de Grenvile amongst the 'nomina illorum qui teñ: quindecim
libratas terræ, vel plus, et tenent per servitium militare, et milites
non sunt;' and in 1297 Richard Grenevyle, of Stow, was amongst those
who had £20 a year, or more, in land. In later times the Grenvilles
held Swannacote, Bynnamy, Ilcombe, Albercombe, and other places, as
well as Stow, in the Hundred of Stratton.

[6] Cf. the _Times_, 16th February, 1883.

[7] Drake figures the tomb (which represents him carrying the cross in
his _left_ hand) in his 'Eboracum;' and it is also given in Waller's
'Sepulchral Brasses.' Cf. _Quarterly Review_, cii. 297; and Wright's
'Essays,' i. 134; Holinshed in 'Edward I.,' p. 315; and Le Neve's
'Fasti Eccl. Ang.,' vol. iii. p. 105.

[8] Pole says that 'S^r Rich^d. Grenvill, K^t., served under th'erle of
Hartford before Hamble Tewe, with 200 soldiers, and at Bolleyne, anno
38 of Kinge Henry 8.'

[9] Cf. 'A briefe and true report of the new found land of Virginia,'
1571 (?), fol. Messrs. Boase and Courtney observe that a very limited
number of this, the rarest and most precious book relating to America,
has been executed in fac-simile by the photo-lithographic process, and
that an edition of 150 copies of this work has also been printed by the
Hercules Club.

[10] I hardly know which portrait Kingsley is describing. One of the
finest that I have seen is a photograph of that now in the possession
of the Thynne family. It represents Sir Richard at about thirty years
of age, and with the most keen and determined expression imaginable.
Another is engraved in Prince's 'Worthies of Devon;' and Crispin Pass
engraved a likeness of him for his 'Heroologia,' probably from the same
original as Prince's; it bears the motto--

    'Neptuni proles, qui magni Martis alumnus
    Grenvilius patrias sanguine tinxit aquas.'

[11] An old Cornish song runs thus:

    'Oh, where be those gay Spaniards
      Which make so great a boast O?
    Oh, they shall eat the grey goose-feather,
      And we shall eat the roast O!'

[12] 'Stow,' says Carew, 'is so singly called, _per eminentiam_, as a
place of great and good mark and scope, and the ancient dwelling of
the Grenvile's famous family.' An indifferent picture of the second
Stow is preserved at Haynes, Middlesex; and another is said to be in
the possession of Mrs. Martyn, of Harleston, Torquay. Fragments of it
may be seen in the cottages and gardens of Coombe, under the hill on
which Stow once stood, and it is said that the staircase is at Prideaux
Place, Padstow; but it is believed that the greater portion of the
materials were removed to South Molton, where the town-hall was erected
with them; and, according to Polewhele, traces of them were also to be
seen at Star Hill and other places in that neighbourhood.

In the MS. diary of Dr. Yonge, F.R.S., a distinguished physician of the
latter part of the seventeenth century, the following entry occurs in
the year 1685:

'I waited on my Lord of Bathe (then Governor of Plymouth) to his
delicious house, Stowe. It lyeth on y^e ledge of y^e north sea of
Devon, a most curious fabrick beyond all description.'

As regards the ruined mansion, well might Edward Moore exclaim:

    'Ah! where is now its boasted beauty fled?
      Proud turrets that once glittered in the sky,
    And broken columns, in confusion spread,
      A rude misshapen heap of ruins lie.

    'Where, too, is now the garden's beauty fled,
      Which every clime was ransacked to supply?
    O'er the drear spot see desolation spread,
      And the dismantled walls in ruins lie.

    'Along the terrace-walks are straggling seen
      The prickly bramble and the noisome weed,
    Beneath whose covert crawls the toad obscene,
      And snakes and adders unmolested breed.

[13] _Old_ Stow House was pulled down in 1680, when it was rebuilt,
and again destroyed in 1720, the materials being sold by auction.
The carved cedar work in the chapel was executed by Michael Chuke,
an artist little inferior to Gibbons. The wood came out of a Spanish
prize, and the carving was re-erected at the Duke of Buckingham's
residence, Stow.

[14] A modern American traveller has thus recorded his impressions of
Flores as he passed the island: 'As we bore down upon it the sun came
out and made it a beautiful picture--a mass of green farms and meadows
that swelled up to a height of 1,500 feet, and mingled its upper
outlines with the clouds. It was ribbed with sharp, steep ridges, and
cloven with narrow cañons, and here and there, on the heights, rocky
upheavals shaped themselves into mimic battlements and castles; and
out of rifted clouds came broad shafts of sunlight that painted summit
and slope and glen with bands of fire, and left belts of sombre shade
between.'

[15] Thomas Philippes, in a letter of 31st Oct., 1591, to Thomas
Barnes, says: 'They condemn the Lord Thomas for a coward, and some say
he is for the King of Spain.' He supposes his friend Barnes 'has heard
of the quarrel and offer of combat between the Lord Admiral and Sir
Walter Raleigh.'

[16] Vice-Warden of the Stannaries, friend and contemporary of Richard
Carew.

[17] Probably the brother of Sir Henry Killigrew, Kt., Queen
Elizabeth's ambassador to France, the Low Countries, etc.

[18] In 1595 Gervase Markham wrote a poem entitled 'The most Honorable
Tragedie of Sir Richard Grinuile, Knight. Bramo assai, poco spero,
nulla chieggio:' a very rare book, only two copies of it being known,
but it has been reprinted by Arber. It is a rather fantastic and
lengthy production, containing little that is quotable; but perhaps
this verse may pass--

    'Neuer fell hayle thicker then bullets flew,
    Neuer showr'd drops faster then show'ring blowes,
    Liu'd all the _Woorthies_, all yet neuer knew
    So great resolue in so great certaine woes;
    Had _Fame_ told _Cæsar_ what of this was true,
    His Senate-murdred spirite would haue rose
      And with faire honors enuie wondred then
      Cursing mortalitie in mighty men.'

[19] It commands a view of Lundy Island, which belonged to the
Grenvilles.

[20] He is said to have been the first who attempted to smelt tin with
pit-coal.

[21] This is his designation inscribed on his tomb at Ghent.

[22] In November, 1645, according to Lysons, Launceston was fortified
by Sir Richard Grenville, who, being at variance with Lord Goring
(another of the King's generals), caused proclamation to be made in all
the churches in Cornwall, that if any of Lord Goring's forces should
come into the county the bells should ring, and the people rise and
drive them out.

[23] He is said to have conceived the notable project of defending
Cornwall against the enemy by cutting a trench from Barnstaple to the
south coast, and filling it with sea-water.

[24] M.P. for Cornwall, 18 and 21 James I., and 16 Charles I.; and for
Launceston, 1, 3, and 15 Charles I.

[25] In 1643, according to a very curious old tract (E102/107 Brit.
Mus.), the Cornish forces lay at Liskeard, Saltash, Launceston,
Bridgerule and Stratton. Lord Mohun was at Liskeard, Slanning at
Saltash, Trevanion at Launceston; Sir Bevill Grenville was at Stratton,
with 1,200 men. Sir Bevill was described as colonel of one foot
regiment, Basset of another, Trevanion, the elder, of a third--he had
Arundell for a lieutenant-colonel, and Trelawny for his sergeant-major,
two of his captains were Burlacy and Boskoyne (? Borlase and
Boscawen)--Trevanion, the younger, of a fourth, with Edgecombe as his
lieutenant-colonel, and Carew as his sergeant-major; and Godolphin
colonel of a fifth. The Cornish gave out that they were 10,000 to
12,000 strong--but 'of fighting men in pay,' says the writer of this
interesting tract, 'we know for certaine not full 6,000.'

[26] She was the daughter of Sir George Smith, of Maydford, Heavitree,
near Exeter, was born in 1598, and married Sir Bevill in 1620. Her
portrait is said to be preserved at Haynes, Middlesex, 'Ætatis suæ
36--1634.' And there was another (in a red dress) belonging to the late
Rev. Lord John Thynne, dated two years later; in this the likeness to
her son is very striking. Her sister, Lady Elizabeth Monk, was the
mother of George Monk, Duke of Albemarle.

[27] In Boconnoc Park, near the gate of Rookwood Grove, was an ancient
oak, under which, according to tradition, an attempt was made to
assassinate the King whilst receiving the sacrament. A hole, (made by
woodpeckers) used to be shown in support of the tradition. Polwhele
fancies the story must have arisen from the King's having really been
shot at whilst in the Hall walk, Fowey, when a fisherman, who was
gazing at his Majesty, was killed. On this occasion it is said that on
8th Aug., 1644, King Charles 'lay in the field all night in his coach'
on Boconnoc Down, having been 'affrighted by the Militia' out of Lord
Mohun's house at Boconnoc.

[28] An interesting illustration of a fact, sometimes apt to be
overlooked, that reliance on the 'God of Battles' was not confined to
the Puritan side in this memorable struggle.

[29] It will be remembered how the eagerness of the Grenville,
Godolphin, Basset, and Trevanion troops of Cornishmen at the siege
of Bristol precipitated the attack on 26th July, 1643, and greatly
contributed to the capture of that city for the King. Here, and at
Lansdowne, fell the flower of the Cornish chivalry.

[30] Sir John Hinton, M.D., in his 'Memorial to Charles II.,' writes:
'In his extremity I was the last man that had him by the hand before he
dyed.' His body was brought to Stow, and deposited in the family vault
in Kilkhampton Church, July 26th, 1643; and the remains of his 'deare
love and best friend,' the Lady Grace, were laid by his side four years
afterwards.

[31] A writer in 'Notes and Queries' says that Sir Bevill did not
die on the spot, but that he expired next day at Cold Aston (Ashton)
Parsonage, some four or five miles to the north of the battle-field.

Green, in his 'History of the English People,' thus refers to the event:

'Nowhere was the Royal cause to take so brave or noble a form as among
the Cornishmen. Cornwall stood apart from the general life of England:
cut off from it not only by differences of blood and speech, but by
the feudal tendencies of its people, who clung with a Celtic loyalty
to their local chieftains, and suffered their fidelity to the Crown to
determine their own. They had as yet done little more than keep the war
out of their own county; but the march of a small Parliamentary force
under Lord Stamford upon Launceston, forced them into action. A little
brave band of Cornishmen gathered around the chivalrous _Sir Bevil
Greenvil_, "so destitute of provisions that the best officers had but a
biscuit a day," and with only a handful of powder for the whole force;
but, starving and out-numbered as they were, they scaled the steep rise
of Stratton Hill, sword in hand, and drove Stamford back to Exeter,
with a loss of two thousand men, his ordnance and baggage train. Sir
Ralph Hopton, the best of the Royalist generals, took the command of
their army as it advanced into Somerset, and drew the stress of the war
into the west. Essex despatched a picked force under Sir William Waller
to check their advance; but Somerset was already lost ere he reached
Bath, and the Cornishmen stormed his strong position on Lansdowne Hill
in the teeth of his guns.'

[32] Sir Bevill Grenville was forty-eight years of age at the time
of his death, as appears by the following record of his birth in the
parish register at Kilkhampton:

'Bevell, the sonne of the worshipful Bernarde Greynville, Esquire, was
borne and baptized at Brinn in Cornwall, Ao. Dni. 1595.'

In the margin, 'Marche 1595, borne the 23d day; baptized the 25th day
of Marche.'

[33] Sir Bevill's name and memory were of course long revered in the
family. Mrs. Delany was particularly anxious that it should be always
borne by some member of it, and it may be convenient to note here that
his grandson, Sir Bevill Grenville, was Governor of Barbadoes, in 1704
(cf. Rawlinson, A 271, Bodleian Library), a major-general in the army,
and M.P. for Fowey, 1685-89.

[34] Echard gives some interesting details respecting the conduct of
this delicate business; and Masson refers to it in his 'Life of Milton'
(vol. v.)

[35] The following extract from Pepys is so amusing that I cannot
forbear inserting it: 'This afternoon Mr. Ed. Pickering told me in what
a sad, poor condition for clothes and money the King was, and all his
attendants, when he came to him first from my Lord, their clothes not
being worth forty shillings the best of them. And how overjoyed the
King was when Sir J. Greenville brought him some money: so joyful, that
he called the Princess Royal and Duke of York to look upon it as it lay
in the portmanteau before it was taken out.'

[36] This appears the more probable from the following passage,
which occurs in Lyte's 'History of Eton College' (p. 269): 'The keen
competition for Fellowships, which we have noticed at the period of
the Restoration, continued almost throughout the reign of Charles
II. Sir John Grenville was not satisfied with having procured the
Provostship for his kinsman, Nicholas Monk, and applied to the King for
a Fellowship for his own brother. The vacancy caused by the death of
Grey had just been filled up, but it was arranged that Denis Grenville
should have the next. But, though the letter in his favour was
confirmed sixteen months later, the Fellowship which Meredith resigned
on his promotion to the Provostship, was granted by the forgetful King
to Dr. Heaver, of Windsor. The Grenvilles were naturally indignant at
such treatment, and the King had to write to the Provost and Fellows,
explaining that the late appointment had been made in consequence
of Laud's decree of 1634, which annexed a Fellowship at Eton to the
Vicarage of Windsor, and once more bidding them reserve the next place
for Grenville, whose family had rendered such eminent services to the
Royalist cause.

[37] 'Comperts and Considerations.'

[38] He had also published previously some other sermons; a letter
written to the Clergy of his Archdeaconry; and 'Counsel and Directions,
Divine and Moral, in plain and familiar Letters of Advice to a Young
Gentleman' (his nephew, Thomas Higgons), 'soon after his admission
into a College in Oxon;' and his Memoirs, some of them of a painfully
personal character, were edited by the Surtees Society in 1865.

[39] It is indeed said that James promised him, on his restoration, the
Archbishopric of York (a post which, as we have seen, was once before
filled by a member of the Grenville family).

[40] Cf. Wood's 'Athenæ Oxonienses,' vol. iv., col. 498; and the 'Fasti
Oxonienses,' part ii., cols. 229-326.

[41] A Mr. Beaumont, a Durham clergyman, is believed to have written a
'Narrative of the Life of Dean Grenville.'

[42] Many of the Grenville portraits are in the possession of this
family.




_INCLEDON_,

THE SINGER.




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_INCLEDON_,

THE SINGER.

  'The British National Singer.'

                    HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE III.


An artist might have a worse subject for a picture than the interview
to which we are about to refer. The Vicar of Manaccan, the Rev. Richard
Polwhele, of Polwhele, ever busy in gathering information about
Cornwall and Cornishmen, one day near the beginning of the present
century, rides over to the quaint and pretty little fishing-cove
of Coverack, near the Lizard, to have a chat with old Mrs. Loveday
Incledon, the mother of the 'rantin' roarin' blade' (the youngest, I
fancy, of a somewhat numerous family) who forms the subject of this
memoir. Polwhele probably passed through the quiet little village of
St. Keverne (with--that unusual sight in Cornwall--a tall _spire_
and a large church), where our hero was born. Reaching Coverack, the
worthy Vicar doubtless opened the siege in due form, and with regular
approaches to the old lady; but all his skill and blandishments were in
vain. She would tell him plenty about the rebellion of '45, and repeat
many scraps of old ballads referring to it; but not one word would she
say about her _son_, then in the meridian of his fame. It was, however,
probably she who told Polwhele that all the Incledons were musical,
and that her boy Benjamin's aunt was celebrated for her rendering of
'Black-eyed Susan;'--but in the end the Vicar had to remount his nag,
and return to his snug Vicarage of Manaccan, not much wiser than when
he left it in the morning.

Whether Incledon's mother's reticence was due to old age, or to the
almost invariable reluctance of elderly people in the country to
discuss family affairs with '_strangers_,' it would be hard to say;
but it could scarcely be because the mention of her son's name and
career gave her pain; for in her declining years he was the main source
of her support till she died, after her husband, in 1808, eighty-one
years of age. Incledon's father was a member of the medical profession,
but probably not entitled to be described, as he was in some of the
books of the day, as 'a respectable _physician_.' There is, however, a
cosy little inn at St. Keverne, and on one of the stone posts of the
back-door I have seen, deeply cut, the letters 'MICHAEL INCLEDON.'
This would seem to give us perhaps the only clue now left to the home,
during his boyhood, of the finest English singer of his day.

Cornwall has always been celebrated for the rich quality of its bass
voices, but is not remarkable for the number or excellence of those of
the tenor register. Incledon may almost be said to have possessed both;
for, in his prime, his natural voice ranged from A to G (fourteen
notes), and his singularly sweet and powerful falsetto from D to E or
F (ten notes). It is not difficult to understand that, even more than
a hundred years ago, the fame of a fine voice might travel eastward
as far as Exeter Cathedral, where Jackson, whose once popular 'Te
Deum' and many pleasing ballads and duets are familiar to most of us,
then held the post of organist; and accordingly, under him was little
Incledon placed about the year 1772, when eight years old. His voice
delighted everybody, and he became 'a little idol.'

Bernard, who wrote the 'Theatrical Retrospections,' made Incledon's
acquaintance whilst he was under Dr. Jackson's care, and says he did
not at that time perceive anything remarkable in his voice or style.
The boy was then a tall, lanky lad of fifteen, chiefly noticeable for
his 'courage, gratefulness, and love of the water'--in fact, adds
Bernard, more Newfoundland dog than boy. A gentleman of Exeter offered
a money reward to any lad who would swim out to a certain moored
boat, with a rope on his shoulders, and swim back with it again. The
task, however, baffled all the Exeter boys, till young Incledon made
the attempt, and, when he had earned the prize, handed the money
immediately to a poor widow who had been kind to him. Bernard seems
to have been a good friend of Incledon's through life; and Davy,
the composer, whose acquaintance was also made about this time, was
another. He, too, was a Cornishman, according to some writers,[43] and
was Incledon's 'coach' when any new part or song had to be prepared.
It was through Bernard that Incledon got his first start in life, at
Bath, to which event reference will shortly be made.

But Incledon has not yet left Exeter (although it is not altogether
improbable that he had already attempted[44] to do so), and here he
continued his duties as chorister for awhile. It is said that when
Judge Nares attended service at Exeter Cathedral, he was so entranced
by the boy Incledon's singing 'Let the Soul live,' that he burst into
tears, and at the end of the service sent the little fellow a present
of five guineas. After having failed altogether to trace this piece
of music, I am indebted to my friend, Mr. W. H. Cummings, the eminent
tenor, and the biographer of Purcell, for the suggestion that it is
probably part of one of Jackson's unpublished anthems.

Either the imposed restraint, and the punctuality and decorum of the
Cathedral services, were too much for him, or (according to another
suggestion) he was witness of some Cathedral scandal which it was
thought desirable to keep quiet; at any rate, when about fifteen years
old, Master Incledon at length successfully broke his fetters, and went
as a sailor in his Majesty's navy, on board the _Formidable_, Captain
Cleland, with whom he sailed to the West Indies. There he afterwards
changed his ship, and joined the _Raisonnable_. He remained in the
navy for about four years, and was present in more than one action;
notably, whilst on board the _Formidable_ of 90 guns, in the famous
fight of 12th April, 1782, between Lord Rodney (then Sir Geo. Brydges
Rodney) and the French Admiral, Comte de Grasse, in the West Indian
Archipelago,--when, after a fight which lasted the livelong day, and
during which 9,000 French and Spaniards were killed and wounded, the
British victory saved Jamaica from the enemy, and revived the then
drooping fortunes of England.

Incledon seems to have made himself a great favourite amongst all
classes on board the fleet, who were not only delighted by his
magnificent singing, but also welcomed a boon companion. Admirals
Pigot and Hughes were almost always singing glees and catches with the
lad. The atmosphere must have been very congenial to him; and it was
probably during this period of his life that he not only contracted the
low tastes and hard-drinking habits which disfigured his career, yet,
doubtless, he also now acquired that sea-faring style which enabled him
to sing 'The Storm,'[45] 'Cease, rude Boreas! blustering railer,' etc.,
in such a way as they have never been sung before or since,

    'In notes with many a winding bout
    Of linkèd sweetness long drawn out
    With wanton heed and giddy cunning,
    The melting voice through mazes running.'

Admiral Lord Hervey became one of his chief patrons; and, in
conjunction with Lord Mulgrave, Admiral Pigot, and others, on
Incledon's return to England in 1783, these officers introduced him
to Sheridan and to Colman--'the modern Terence,' as the latter was
called--with a view to Incledon's appearing on the stage. It was not
usual in those days for managers to fail to carry out the wishes
of noble and influential patrons; but neither Sheridan nor Colman,
whose practised eyes probably at once discovered that Incledon was no
actor,--nor ever likely to make one--that his pronunciation was coarse,
and that moreover his face and figure were somewhat sailor-like and
ungainly,--could be prevailed upon to give the aspirant for histrionic
honours, then in his nineteenth year, even a _trial_.

Not to be balked, however, in his intentions, our hero proceeded to
Southampton, where Collins's itinerant dramatic company was then
performing; and here he made his _début_ as Alfonso in 'The Castle of
Andalusia,' with what result I have been unable to discover, though it
would be interesting to learn; his salary (very acceptable, small as it
was) was only some ten or fifteen shillings a week. He remained with
this company for about a year, travelling with them to Winchester, and
thence on foot to Bath, where he arrived 'with his last shilling in
his pocket.' At Bath his great musical talents seem first to have been
recognised--yet even there tardily, as he was for a long time engaged
merely as a chorus singer, and was still miserably paid accordingly;
though his salary was now raised to thirty shillings a week. His first
appearance as a soloist is said to have been as Edwin, in 'Robin Hood.'

But one night Incledon had to sing a song 'between the acts'--an old
practice, now fallen into disuse, but then prevalent at many theatres,
and which afforded amusement to the audience whilst the cumbrous
scenes were being slowly shifted by few and clumsy hands. One of the
audience happened to be Rauzzini, an Italian singer and teacher at
the fashionable watering-place; and he (notwithstanding his usual
contempt for English singers) instantly detected the exceptional range
and quality of Incledon's voice. He is said to have rushed behind the
scenes, exclaiming: 'Incledon! Sare! I tank you for the pleasure you af
give me: you vas de fus Engleesh singer I have hear vat can sing. Sare!
you af got a voice--you af got a voice!' On another occasion, Incledon,
at the conclusion of one of his ballads, made a roulade in a way
altogether his own--rolling his voice grandly up like the surge of the
sea, till, touching the top note, it died away in sweetness--causing
Rauzzini to ejaculate: 'Coot Cot! it vas vere lucky dere vas some roof
dere, or dat fellow vould be hear by de ainshels in hev'n.' Rauzzini at
once became his friend; and, for six or seven years, his instructor;
and Incledon, who now joined the 'Noblemen's and Gentlemen's Glee
Club,' was at length on the high-road to success.

The London stage was, however, still the object of his ambition;
and in the summers of 1786 to 1789, he at length succeeded in
procuring engagements at Vauxhall Gardens, which resulted in a
great triumph. His singing of 'The Lass of Richmond Hill' was,
especially, so popular, that copies of the song were sold at one
shilling each, instead of the usual sixpence. Still, Vauxhall was not
'the stage;' and, indeed, the regular actors looked down upon the
Vauxhall performers as being artists of an inferior rank, so that
poor Incledon's engagement there rather retarded than hastened the
gratification of his wishes. At length actors' jealousies and managers'
reluctance all had to give way to the sheer force of Incledon's
unsurpassable voice and growing fame; and on the 20th January,
1790,[46] he made his _début_ at Covent Garden in the character of
Dermot in 'The Poor Soldier.' His engagement was for three years, at
£6, £7, and £8 a week. The applause with which he was received was
general and sincere; his success was assured; and he became, from his
rollicking, generous, sailor-like disposition, a favourite, both before
and behind the scenes. He was always either playing off practical jokes
upon others, or becoming the butt of them himself; and the latter was
notably the case whenever Incledon was about to take his 'benefit.'
On these occasions he was always very anxious about his success, and
so credulous, that he believed all that the theatrical wags told
him. Inquiring on one occasion as to how the list of his patrons was
progressing, he was informed that 'the Marquis of Piccadilly' had just
taken some tickets, and that 'the Duke of Windsor' had written for
a box. 'Ah!' says Incledon, 'he must be one of the Royal Family, I
suppose.' He was further delighted--or seemed to be so--when he was
told that 'Lord Highgate' and the 'Bishop of Gravesend' were also
coming.

But the author of the 'Records of a Stage Veteran' asserts that
Incledon was not so silly or unlearned as he pretended to be, and
could give a Roland (often coarse enough) for an Oliver. When some of
the poorer actresses, relying upon his open-handed generosity, used
to besiege him in the cold weather for donations to purchase flannel,
they always got some money from him; but they not unfrequently repaired
forthwith to the 'Brown Bear,' and invested it in egg-flip, which in
consequence, it is said, soon came to bear the _alias_ of 'flannel' in
the green-room. When Incledon found this out, he took his revenge by
sprinkling some 'flannel' with ipecacuanha, and so saved his pocket
from similar forays for the future. In 1804, he joined the Duke of
Cumberland's sharp-shooters; but, being so fat, the story goes that
he and Cooke were generally last of the skirmishers. On one occasion
he gave a butcher-boy a shilling to carry his gun for him, and, on
another, a shilling to a little girl to carry his sword, which was
always getting between his legs; and he thus appeared with his two
young subalterns on parade.

On the 26th February, 1791, Shield's operetta of 'The Woodman' was
brought out at Covent Garden; and Incledon, now earning a salary of £16
a week, or £2 more than was then paid to any other English singer,
enraptured all his hearers by the way in which he sang 'The Streamlet.'
'The Cabinet,' in which operetta he sang during the winter of 1804,
with Braham and Storace, was also, like 'The English Fleet,' highly
popular with the public; but Incledon's favourite part was Captain
Macheath in the 'Beggar's Opera'--to play which he used to say he would
always willingly get up in the middle of the night. And here it may
be observed, that Braham gradually delegated to Incledon most of his
younger _rôles_; but Dibdin tells us that, as Incledon's fame advanced,
he had to be very cautious, in writing for the stage, to allot equally
prominent parts to Incledon and to Braham. 'If one had a ballad, the
other was also to have one; each a martial or a hunting song; each
a bravura; and if they were to have a duet, each one was to lead
alternately.' As an illustration of the relations which existed between
the singer and the librettist, I may quote a letter which, about the
year 1807, Incledon wrote to Dibdin from Norwich:

  'DEAR TOM,

  'You have on many occasions expressed a wish to serve me: you have it
  now in your power. I am much distressed for two comic songs for my
  new entertainment: one to be sung by an Irishman, and I should wish
  it complimentary to that country; the other to be sung by a funny
  tailor. Mr. Horn, a very clever young man now with me, will set them.
  We opened here on Saturday--receipts £103; and I expect nearly as much
  this night. I shall be at Bury St. Edmund's on Saturday and Sunday
  next: if you can let me have them by that time, I shall be greatly
  obliged to you; if not, I shall be at Lynn on the following Wednesday.
  With best compliments to Mrs. Dibdin,

                 'I am, dear Tom,
                      'Your friend,
                            'C. INCLEDON.
  'P.S. D--n such paper.'

Incledon seems to have been at this time devotedly attached to his
profession, and was perfectly furious when hoarseness or any other form
of illness prevented his appearing in public. He was now in the zenith
of his fame, and a musical critic of the period has thus described his
voice and style:

  'His natural voice was full and open, neither partaking of the reed
  nor the string, and was sent forth without the smallest artifice;
  such was its ductility, that when he sang pianissimo, it retained
  its original quality. His falsetto was rich and brilliant, but
  totally unlike the other. He took it without preparation, according
  to circumstances, either about D, E, or F; or, ascending an octave,
  which was his most frequent custom, 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. His
  pronunciation of words, however, was thick, coarse, and vulgar. His
  forte was ballad; and ballad not of the modern cast of whining or
  rant or sentiment, but the original, manly, energetic strain of an
  earlier and better age of English poesy and English song-writing:
  such as "Black-eyed Susan," and "The Storm," the bold and cheering
  hunting-song, or the love-song of Shield, breathing the chaste, simple
  grace of genuine English melody.'

Nearly all accounts agree in saying that (notwithstanding Incledon's
own very decided opinion to the contrary) he was no _actor_. Not even
his friend and biographer Parkes, the oboe-player, who, with Shield the
composer, lived much with Incledon, would allow him to have possessed
_this_ merit. Indeed, the story is told that when Incledon was on
one occasion enraged at hearing that, on the performance of one of
the oratorios at a certain cathedral, the bishop had determined that
neither Incledon nor any other _actor_ should sing in such a place, and
on such an occasion, Bannister said to our hero, with mock seriousness,
'Incledon, if I were you I should make him _prove his words_.'
Notwithstanding, however, Incledon's obtuseness on some points,
he must have possessed a fund of genuine humour, as the following
anecdote will show: When he and the elder Mathews (who, by the way, was
singularly successful in imitating his friend, notwithstanding their
great difference in person) were once playing together at Leicester,
Incledon was much in want of a drab suit in which to appear in the
character of 'Steady,' a Quaker; so, seeing a portly member of the
Society of Friends, a druggist, standing at his shop-door, Incledon
entered, consumed some quack medicine or other, and laid his hard
case before the Quaker. This he did with such admirable tact that he
actually succeeded in persuading the good-natured druggist not only to
lend him the desired clothes, but also to appear secretly (against his
convictions, of course) at the performance. Truth, however, compels
me to add that the roguish songster's success was partly due to his
unblushing statement that he and his family were themselves formerly
Quakers!

Incledon used also, during Lent, to appear in oratorio, though
apparently not with so much success as in performances of secular
music. He was not so vain of his own voice as not to be very fond of
concerted vocal music. His singing of 'All's Well' with Braham may
perhaps be remembered by a few who are still alive; but probably all
those who heard Incledon at the old 'Glee Club,' singing with Shield,
Johnstone, Bannister the elder, Dignum, C. Ashley, and Parkes, have
'gone over to the majority.' The jolly fellows used to meet every
alternate Sunday night at the Garrick's Head Coffee House, in Bow
Street.[47]

He retired from Covent Garden in 1815--when he took a parting benefit
at the Italian Opera House; but, like so many other public favourites,
he made several 'last appearances' on the boards: one of the really
last ones being at Southampton, where he commenced his career as a
singer.

During the summer months, when the theatre was closed, and, indeed,
during most of the latter part of his career, it was Incledon's
practice to visit the provinces, giving entertainments, one of which
he called 'Variety,' and the other 'The Wandering Melodist,' very much
after the style of Dibdin's; and for the nonce styling himself also
'The Wandering Melodist.' It will be readily understood that these
performances were highly appreciated in the days when locomotion was
so much more difficult than it is nowadays, and when to have 'been to
London' was the exception rather than the rule. It was probably on one
of these occasions that H. C. Robinson fell in with him, on the top of
a coach, and thus records his impressions, in his diary of 4th April,
1811. After noting that Incledon was just the man he expected to find
him, with seven rings on his fingers, five seals on his watch-ribbon,
and a gold snuff-box in his pocket, Robinson goes on to say:

  'I spoke in terms of rapture of Mrs. Siddons. He replied, "Ah! Sally's
  a fine creature. She has a charming place on the Edgware Road. I dined
  with her last year, and 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 compared with the effect you produce!""
  Incledon spoke with warmth, and apparent knowledge, of Church music,
  praising Purcell especially, and mentioning Luther's simple hymns. I
  was forced to confess that _I_ had no ear for music; and he, in order
  to try me, sang in a sort of song-whisper some melodies, which I
  certainly enjoyed more, I thought, than anything I had heard from him
  on the stage.'

But in order to show that Incledon did not himself exaggerate the
effect which the fire of his manner and the sweetness of his singing
sometimes produced, let the following story testify. William Robson, in
the 'Old Playgoer,' says:

  'I remember when the _élite_ of taste, 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, on being requested, sang, as his best song--on
  what he, I am sure, considered a great, though melancholy event--"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, yet proud tone, "_That_ is an English singer."'
  Munden adds that Talma jumped up from his seat, and embraced Incledon
  _à la Française_.

A list of his favourite songs at these entertainments, preserved at
the British Museum, may not be unacceptable, as showing the musical
tastes of the day; some of them are still sung occasionally, but most
are long since forgotten. The songs in the 'Variety' entertainment,
which was in three acts, were an introductory recitation and song
entitled 'Variety;' 'The Thorn;' 'Jack Junk;' 'The Glasses Sparkle on
the Board;' 'Black-eyed Susan;' 'The Post Captain;' 'Charming Kitty;'
'The Irish Phantasmagoria;' 'The Captive to his Bird;' 'The Storm;'
'Inconstant Sue;' 'Irish Hunting-song;' A new loyal and national song;
'The Maid with the Bosom of Snow;' and, for a finale, 'Loud let the
merry, merry welkin sound.'

'The Wandering Melodist' comprised: 'The Married Man;' 'Patrick
O'Stern;' 'The Farmer's Treasure;' 'Mr. Mullins and Miss Whack;' 'Mad
Tom;' 'The Despairing Damsel;' 'The Sea-Boy on the Giddy Mast' (which,
by the way, must have reminded him of old times); 'Fortune's Wheel;'
'Tom Moody;' 'The Siege;' 'Sally Roy;' 'Mariner's Compass;' 'Hail to
the Beam of Morning;' 'The Italian Count and English Captain;' 'The
Finale; or The Rose, Shamrock, and Thistle.'

Incledon's last benefit at Drury Lane--when Elliston engaged him in
1820, at £15 a week--is said to have brought him £1,000; but, as we
have seen, towards the latter part of his career he did not often
appear in London, and on 8th October, 1824, he sang, for the last time
in public, at Southampton. His voice was observed to falter as he sang
the final verse of 'Then Farewell my trim-built Wherry;' and he thus
took leave of his audience:

  'Ladies and Gentlemen,--It is with the sincerest feelings of gratitude
  that I acknowledge this evening the distinguished favour you have ever
  conferred upon me. In this town, and on these boards, I first appeared
  as a singer; and the encouragement I then received from you was, I may
  say, the passport to my fame. Since that time I have passed through
  many vicissitudes. I have served His Majesty in many engagements:
  there is not a ship in the navy, nor many towns in the country, that
  I have not sung in; but still your early liberality has never been
  effaced from my memory. It is now six years ago since I left the
  stage, but it has always been my wish to appear once more before you.
  Age, sickness, and infirmities have altered me much from what I once
  was, but I have always done my best to please; and, I repeat it, while
  I live I shall never forget the kindly support I have received from
  the inhabitants of Southampton.'

Another authority (Donaldson) adds that on this occasion Incledon also
referred to his darling wives, saying: 'I have had three--the first
was the sainted Jane [Miss Lowther, of Bath]; the second the angel
Mary [Miss Howell, of Bath--she died May, 1811]; and the third, still
living, is the divine Martha.'[48]

It will be seen that each of the entertainments referred to above
consisted of fifteen songs, and must have taxed the singer's powers
severely. I was a little surprised at not finding either 'The Heaving
of the Lead,' or 'My bonny, bonny Bet, sweet Blossom,' on either list;
for the latter especially was a great favourite, and Incledon always
had to sing it twice, often three times; but probably this was the very
reason why he omitted it from these programmes.

I have not been able to put my hand upon more than one example of his
talents as a composer, namely, a song called 'Soft as the Morning's
blushing Hue,' which he used to sing in 'Family Quarrels' (but
Shield used to say that Incledon generally managed to improve _his_
composition). The song mentioned above is a rather pretty, flowing
melody, eminently adapted to the remarkable compass and flexibility of
Incledon's voice; there is a copy of it at the British Museum, with the
initials 'C.I.,' in faded ink, sprawling over the first page. And here
it may be well to observe that having added 'Charles' to his Christian
name Benjamin, he at length dropped the latter name altogether.

Incledon did not confine his musical experiences to England; but
occasionally made trips to Ireland, where 'no singer was ever more
caressed.'

R. W. Procter, in his 'Manchester in Holiday Dress,' says: 'When
Incledon was returning home from Dublin, on one occasion, the vessel
in which he embarked was upset in passing the bar. Several of the
passengers were drowned, but the singer saved himself by climbing, in
sailor fashion, to the round top, with his wife lashed to him; Incledon
all the while uttering a strange mixture of oaths, prayers, and
confessions. They remained in that perilous position for several hours,
until rescued by some fishermen.'

Once, towards the close of his career, when his powers, enfeebled by
his careless manner of life, were on the wane, he even ventured across
the Atlantic. In America, however (notwithstanding that a writer in the
_New Monthly Magazine_, for 1838, asserts that he made £5,000 by this
trip), he is said to have been a failure; though Incledon himself would
insist upon it, to the last, that his want of success there was merely
an example of the caprice of the public.

On his return to England he went to Brighton, where, by a slight
attack of paralysis, he received his first warning that his career was
nearly closed. The 11th of February, 1826, found him, now sixty-four
years old, at Worcester, organizing one of his entertainments. Here he
attended a meeting of a local glee-club, but declined, for some reason,
to take his part in the music. At his inn, however, 'The Reindeer,' he
did sing in the kitchen[49]--to gratify the servants--his last song:

    'Then farewell, my trim-built wherry!
    Coat, and oars, and badge, farewell!'

and a few nights afterwards, on the 19th February, he bade farewell
to a world which had often hung upon his lips for the sweetest and
manliest strains that any English singer had ever warbled forth. 'The
hunting-song, the sea-song, and the ballad,' observes C. R. Leslie, in
his autobiography, 'may be said to have expired with Incledon.'

All contemporary accounts agree as to his vocal merits. Parkes says
that in twenty-four years he never knew Incledon sing out of tune:
indeed, it has been observed that he _could_ not have done so if he had
tried, for whilst his ear was marvellously accurate, his knowledge of
music was slight. Parkes speaks of his friend's memory being quick and
retentive, for melodies; but Incledon seems to have had the greatest
difficulty in recollecting any 'part;' and more than once, when he
had forgotten it, he has been known to give an impromptu turn to the
dialogue in order to introduce some ballad appropriate to the occasion,
whilst cudgelling his brains for the lost 'cue.'


The few glimpses we have had of his private character do not prepare
us to expect much elegance or refinement in Incledon, off or on the
stage. Indeed, it must be confessed that he was vain, coarse, irritable
at times, and dissipated; but he had the redeeming traits of frankness
and generosity; and allowances must be made for his having lived in
'three-bottle' days. Cyrus Redding tells an amusing story of Incledon's
having been invited to a dinner at 'The Pope's Head' Inn, Plymouth, in
order that he might be induced to entertain the company afterwards. The
wine of course circulated freely, and Incledon, as was his wont, freely
partook of it. He attempted a recitation of the lines from 'Samson
Agonistes,' beginning 'Total eclipse!' but the good cheer had proved
too much for his wits, his head sank upon his shoulders, and he became
for a time totally eclipsed himself:--he had been 'dining out' daily,
for a week before. It was, however (though he drank hard), very rarely
that he succumbed like this. And Fitz Ball (Edward Ball)--who, by the
way, mentions that latterly Incledon got very fat--tells a story which
may be fitly inserted here. Being once at Bury St. Edmund's, whilst
some military ball was going on, Incledon, well in his cups, said
something to a young officer about 'featherbed captains,' which the
military hero chose to regard as a personal affront, and accordingly,
accompanied by some friends (so the story goes), besieged Incledon's
room the next morning, and demanded satisfaction. In the first place,
there was great difficulty about waking the singer from his deep,
vinous slumbers; and when at last he did awake, he was quite at a loss
to know why his privacy had been invaded. On learning, however, that
'satisfaction' was what was wanted, he sat up in bed and sang, in
his most exquisite manner, 'Black-eyed Susan,' so that there was at
last not a dry eye in the room. When he had finished, 'There, my fine
fellow!' said Incledon blandly, '_that_ has satisfied thousands--let it
_satisfy_ you;' and, putting out his hand, it was as generously taken
as it was offered.

Some accounts give Incledon three wives, others two; but those who are
at all acquainted with the history of the stage, seventy or eighty
years ago, will admit that this is a point upon which Incledon himself
might possibly not have been very clear. There was one 'Mrs. Incledon,'
however, who, like the songster himself, was very fond of good living;
and there is a story that once, when Incledon was entertaining at
dinner, at his house, No. 13, Brompton Crescent, his friend and
medical adviser, Dr. Moseley of Chelsea Hospital, and two or three
others, the dish of fish was artfully so arranged that a fine dory
(to which the host and hostess were both very partial) was completely
overlaid by herrings; and it was not until the guests had all been
helped to the humbler fish, that the gourmands' favourite was--as if
by accident--discovered. On this memorable occasion we hear that 'pink
_and_ white champagne' were handed round; that on its production, the
trio 'Beviamo tutte tre' was sung by Shield, Parkes, and Incledon, with
appropriate action; and that, when the conversation turned upon the
sort of deaths which the Chelsea veterans died, Incledon, delighted
with Dr. Moseley's satisfactory account of them, got up and persuaded
all who were present to join in singing Dr. Callcott's noble glee,
'Peace to the Souls of the Heroes!'


Incledon, though he made plenty of money, was often pecuniarily
embarrassed, owing no doubt to that 'lax and sailor-like twist of
mind' which, as Leigh Hunt says, always hung about him. An instance
of this occurs in a letter preserved among the Egerton MSS., in which
Incledon, writing to the magniloquent George Robins, from Ipswich, in
February, 1816, tells how he had been arrested a few days before, at
Colchester, for £19, by a Mr. Marriot of Fleet Street, for the balance
of a bill of over £100. The singer had recently taken a house, and had
been put to great expense in furnishing it; and his object in writing
to Robins was to get him to contradict, in London, the report that
'Incledon was about to fly from the kingdom.' He adds that he was then
going on to Norwich, Aberdeen, Edinburgh, and Dublin, and finishes by
saying that his wife was with him, and that his being 'arrested has
given my Poor Little Woman so great a Shock that she will not soon get
over. She is now very Ill, and continually in Tears.' He nevertheless
was supposed[50] to have been worth £8,000 when he died, leaving this
third wife a widow with three children. He was buried in Hampstead
churchyard, on the 20th February, 1826, aged sixty-four, by the side of
his first and second wives, and five of their children.


So lived and so died Charley Incledon--'generous as a prince,' as
Charles Mathews wrote of him, 'never ashamed of his antecedents;' and
as Dowton says,

  'Unrivalled in his native minstrelsy.'

One of his sons, Charles, who had been unsuccessful as a farmer near
Bury St. Edmund's, attempted, under Braham's auspices, to succeed as a
singer: he made his _début_ either as Hawthorn in 'Love in a Village,'
or as Young Meadows, at Covent Garden, on the 3rd October, 1829; but
in this attempt, too, the poor fellow (who had a large family, and who
had, moreover, a strong objection to the stage on moral and religious
grounds) failed. Another son, Frank, became a well-to-do London
tradesman; and a daughter married well, and settled in Sunderland.

FOOTNOTES:

[43] He was, however, christened on Christmas Day, 1763, at
Upton-Helions, near Crediton, Devon.

[44] When he first ran away to Plymouth, to go to sea, it was with
a fellow-chorister--all their property 'tied up in a blue and white
pocket-handkerchief;' but on this occasion they were overtaken at Ivy
Bridge, and brought back to Exeter.

[45] There is an engraved portrait of him, in which he is represented
as singing this song.

[46] Other authorities say October, but I have followed Parkes in
the above dates; and this is a point on which he ought to have been
accurate.

[47] For minuter details of the singer's professional career, an
article entitled 'Leaves from a Manager's Note-Book,' in the _New
Monthly Magazine_, for 1838, may be advantageously consulted.

[48] His third wife's name has not been traced by me.

[49] The kitchen seems always to have had attractions for poor
Incledon. One night, whilst at a friend's house, he was missed for
a time, but was at length discovered helping the servants to 'pick
parsley' for supper. Another of his peculiarities was a fondness for
all sorts of quack medicines, and cough-drops, lozenges, and the like,
of which he never failed to carry a large assortment in his pocket.

[50] 'Era Almanac,' 1870.




_THE KILLIGREWS_;

DIPLOMATISTS, WARRIORS, COURTIERS, AND POETS.




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_THE KILLIGREWS_;

DIPLOMATISTS, WARRIORS, COURTIERS, AND POETS.

                        'Fuimus.'


A little ploughed field in the parish of St. Erme, about five miles
north of Truro, on a farm still called Killigrew, is the site of the
old residence of this distinguished family. Their place knows them no
more; and even their own name is, with the sole exception just referred
to, and in one or two instances where it appears as a Christian name
of some of their remote descendants, 'clean blotted out.' Yet it
was once--as the old Cornish word implies--'a grove of eagles'; for
we shall find that their race soared high, and produced examples
of each of the distinguished classes noted above; and that their
memory is worthy of their tombs in Westminster Abbey, and of a local
monument--the pyramid which one who married into the family and assumed
the name, in the latter part of the seventeenth century, erected at
Falmouth in 1737-38.[51] There is some reason to believe that the
family was of royal descent. The first of the name whom I have been
able to trace, is one Ralph Killigrew, said to have been a natural son
of Richard, Earl of Cornwall, and King of the Romans, by his concubine
Joan de Valletort. Hence, so it is said, the double-headed spread
eagle and the 'border bezanty' of the family arms.[52] Henry, Otho,
Simon, Thomas, John, and Maugan are other Christian names of very early
Killigrews.

Lysons gives the following instances of their being at an early date
possessors of lands in Cornwall: John de Killigrew, of Killigrew, had
£20 a year or more in land in 1297; Henry de Killigrew held a military
feu in Orchard Marries (? Marrais) in the hundred of Stratton in 3rd
Henry IV. (1402); Rad. de Killigrew held a 'feod. parv.' at some place
in the hundred of Powder; Henry, son of Maugi de Killigrew, had a
similar tenure in Trewyn, in the same hundred--and they retained the
Manor of Killigrew till 1636, so Lysons says. I may add, as an early
instance of the name being mentioned, that there was a Richard (or
Michael) Killigrew, one of a riotous lot of junior scholars at Merton
College, Oxon, about the year 1350.

After the lapse of about a century and a half from the time of
Ralph, one of the Killigrews married the heiress of Arwenack, near
Falmouth--a lady of broad lands, for her estates extended, it is said,
from Arwenack (an old Cornish name which is said to signify either
'the beloved, still cove,' or 'upon the marsh') to the mouth of the
Helford river, a distance along the coast of some five or six miles. To
this place, overlooking the beautiful waters of Falmouth Haven, then
a deeper and far more important harbour than it is at present, the
Killigrew of the day, Simon by name, moved from his ancestral abode in
St. Erme sometime during the reign of Richard II., probably about 1385;
and here the Killigrews remained for nearly four centuries, acting
as governors of Pendennis Castle for a great part of that period,
intermarrying with many of the oldest Cornish families, and attending
at the Courts of Henry VIII., Elizabeth, the first and second James,
the first and second Charles, and William III.--loyal, able, and
trusted adherents.

The earliest monument to any member of the family is, so far as I
can ascertain, the brass in Gluvias Church, near Penryn, to Thomas
Killigrew and his two wives Joan and Elizabeth, and all their
children.[53] On the brass Thomas Killigrew is described as a
gentleman ('generosus'); he is represented in the costume of the latter
part of the fifteenth century, in a long handsome robe trimmed with
fur, and carries on his right shoulder his hat, after the fashion of
the time--a wealthy merchant, in all probability. Thus far and no
further, I regret to say, can I trace anything of interest respecting
the early Killigrews.


But we now approach comparatively modern times, and are soon bewildered
by the number of more or less illustrious names from which to select
examples. A genealogical table, which I compiled for my guidance,
offers at least fifty names not unknown in history, and of whose
possessors accounts, not without interest, might be given.[54] But
to do this would be to write a book instead of a chapter; and a far
smaller number must suffice.

The Killigrew family seems naturally to divide itself into two classes,
roughly speaking, complementary to each other: viz., the elder
branch, which was on the whole the steadier and the more prosperous,
whose present representative (by marriage) is the Earl of Kimberley,
Secretary of State for India; and the younger branch (now also extinct
in the male line) more fertile than the former in statesmen, soldiers,
and wits. This division it is proposed to adopt in the following
notices of both branches of the family.


_Seniores priores._ Let us commence with the first John Killigrew, of
importance, upon record. His brass, like that of the first Thomas, is
to be found in another little village church--St. Budock by name--near
Falmouth. Evidently a grim warrior, covered _cap-à-pied_ with plate
armour, and associated in the representation with his wife--one
of another good old Cornish family (now also extinct)--Elizabeth,
daughter of James Trewinnard of St. Erth. This John was a rich man,
his estate being worth no less than £6,000 a year; and he was the
first Captain of Pendennis Castle, built on his own ground, under his
own superintendence, and with the co-operation of Thomas Treffry of
Place (who, by the way, married Elizabeth Killigrew, John's sister),
in the reign of our castle-building King, Henry VIII. The same John
Killigrew was appointed in 1551, together with Sir William Godolphin
and Francis Godolphin, to survey the Islands of Scilly, and to build a
fort there; no doubt that which stands on St. Mary's Isle, and is now
known as Elizabeth Castle, with its inscription, 'E.R. 1593,' over the
principal entrance. He was, moreover, sheriff for the county, and in
that capacity wrote a letter, dated at Truro, to Cardinal Wolsey, on
the subject of a threatened French invasion. Not content with building
a castle for his King, John built (or rather rebuilt) for himself
(about 1571, according to Hals), Arwenack House, in such a style that
it was reputed the finest and most costly in the county at that time.
Little did he think that one of his descendants was to see it almost
entirely destroyed, either by Waller, or by the owner himself, to
prevent its falling into the enemy's hand, nearly a century later. Some
part of the structure still stands, and is used as a manor-office; and
here is preserved a conjectural restoration of Arwenack House in its
long-since-departed glory.

To him succeeded his son, Sir John Killigrew, Knight, as second captain
of the fortress. I find nothing further recorded of him, save that
he married one Mary Wolverston,[55] and that when he died on the 5th
March, 1584, he too was buried at St. Budock.

His son John--third of the name--seems to have been, according to
some contemporary accounts, a man of no very high character; in fact,
he has been stigmatized as 'a pirate,' an 'avoider of his debts,'
'a gamester,' and 'spendthrift.' Amongst the Lansdowne MSS., in the
British Museum, are preserved accounts of his misconduct. One, dated
7th March, 1588/9, is a 'Complaynte against John Killigrew of y^e
County of Cornwall, of many of his ill demeners.' First comes a list
of his 'knowen debtes' to Her Majesty and others. Then the document
sets forth that, notwithstanding many judgments obtained against
him, he 'satisfieth no man;' but rides abroad, attended by armed
servants, defies the bailiffs, and commits all sorts of high-handed
irregularities. It concludes with the statement that he endeavours to
satisfy his wealthier creditors with vain promises, and the poorer ones
with blows and threatening words; and in fact, the complainants say
it would require 'a hole quire of pap^r' to sum up all his misdeeds.
His boarding and pillaging a Danish ship, and some similar acts of
violence, are set forth by Sir Julius Cæsar in other documents of this
series; and our hero, together with one William Ewens, are set down as
'notorious pirates.' That he did not obtain the honour of knighthood
under such circumstances is hardly to be wondered at.

I cannot, however, help thinking that he has been debited with many of
the misdeeds of one Peter Killigrew, who lived a century before him,
but whose exact connexion with the family I have been unable to trace
satisfactorily. Perhaps the one mentioned in Strype's 'Memorials of
Edward VI.,' of whom it is observed, in 1552, that one 'Strangwich'
(? Restronguet), 'and two Killigrews with him, were such notable
sea-rovers, that, in the month of February of that year, the King sent
a letter to the French King, that he would do his endeavour for the
apprehension of them.' And yet, in 1592, a Mr. Killigrew, according to
the same authority, was appointed, at Sir Walter Raleigh's request,
on a commission to inquire into the matter of the distribution of
the spoil of a certain richly-laden Spanish carrack, '_The Mother of
God_' taken by some of Sir Walter's ships on her return from the
East Indies. Indeed, there is considerable difficulty in identifying
some of the Killigrews of the sixteenth and early in the seventeenth
centuries. But the fact is, that not only were the Killigrews concerned
in exploits of this nature, but there were many others amongst the
west-countrymen who, under Sir Peter Carew, slipped over to France,
and did a little privateering against Spain on their own account,
being anxious to do all in their power to prevent the marriage of
Mary with Philip of Spain. A Killigrew of this date had three ships
under his command, according to the Calais MSS. 'Wild spirits of all
nations,' says Froude--'Scots, English, French, whoever chose to
offer--found service under their flag. They were the first specimens
of the buccaneering chivalry of the next generation, the germ out of
which rose the Drakes, the Raleighs, the Hawkinses, who harried the
conquerors of the New World.' Ultimately the Godolphins and Killigrews
were threatened with prosecution, but nothing came of it. By his
wife Dorothy, daughter of Thomas Monck of Potheridge, Devon, John
is said to have had nine sons and five daughters, though I can only
trace ten children altogether. She was the sister of General Monck,
Duke of Albemarle, whose exploits on behalf of his royal masters, and
especially the prominent part he took in the restoration of Charles
II., are well-known matters of history. I have referred somewhat more
fully to this in the chapter on the Grenvilles.

This John (whom we have called the third) had two brothers, Thomas
and Simon, both of whom were Court favourites. Some other Cornish
gentlemen of the time seem to have been equally popular with the
Queen, as Elizabeth said of them that they were all 'born courtiers,
and with a becoming confidence.' Queen Elizabeth sent Thomas on an
embassy to the Count Palatine of the Rhine; and I find that he was
also commissioned to seize a certain ship of Brittany at 'Pensans'
(Penzance), and to 'distribute the spoil among such as by certain
Britaines have been heretofore spoiled of their goods and wronged.'
Rough and ready justice this, seemingly, and a lesson from which
some subsequent Killigrews, as we shall find, did not fail to take a
hint. John's younger brother, Simon, was, to some extent, a herald,
as appears by a letter from him on the subject of the Manaton coat
of arms, preserved amongst the Harleian MSS. (1079), in the British
Museum. The two younger brothers added to the family estates by
purchases of a property, with a town-house at Lothbury; a country
seat at Kineton (? Kempton) Park, near Hampton Court; besides sundry
lands and manors in East Cornwall, Devon, and Lincolnshire. Of their
two sisters, Mary and Katherine, I can learn nothing, except that the
latter married twice.

To return, therefore, to the main line--Sir John, the fourth and last
of that name (for Sir William, the eldest son, who was made a baronet
in 1661, and was buried in Westminster Abbey in 1665, would seem to
have led an uneventful life, and need not detain us), was knighted
at Whitehall on 8th November, 1617; he was 'a good, sober man,' and
was likewise, I fancy, a Captain of Pendennis. He seems, moreover, to
have been the chief promoter, at great pecuniary loss, of the first
beacon-light on the Lizard, for which he obtained a patent from King
James I., in 1619.[56] But he had the misfortune to marry an unsuitable
partner--Jane, the daughter of Sir George Fermor--about whom Hals
tells the following story (the credibility of which Davies Gilbert
thought was at least questionable; but the tradition is still locally
extant).[57]

Towards the close of Elizabeth's reign, two Dutch ships of the Hanse
Towns League, and therefore under special protection, sailed into
Falmouth Harbour, driven there either by the Spaniards or by stress of
weather. They had scarcely arrived before Dame Killigrew, accompanied
by some ruffians, boarded the Dutch ships, slew the owners, and seized
two hogsheads of pieces of eight, which she took 'for her own use.'
This high-handed proceeding of course produced remonstrances on the
part of the rightful proprietors of the money, and led to the trial,
conviction, and execution of all the offenders, save the lady herself,
at Launceston. She barely escaped, and not without the utmost interest
having been made for her with the Queen by Sir John Arundell, of
Tolverne, and Sir Nicholas Hals, of Pengerswick.

Nor was this the only irregularity for which the authorities of
Pendennis were complained of. In 1631 the Castle guns were fired
upon the King's ships! and on the 2nd November in that year a Captain
Kettleby writes thus: 'None disturb the free trade in those parts more
than the Captain of Pendennis Castle--he is at peace with neither
King's ships, nor others--both the Admiral and the writer have been
twice shot at by him in going in and out. The last shot fell in the
town of St. Mawes, but only hurt one woman.' Possibly the explanation
of such apparently wanton mischief as this is to be found in the
rivalry which existed for precedence between the two castles, Pendennis
and St. Mawes, on opposite sides of the harbour mouth--a rivalry so
intense as to have finally rendered a compromise indispensable.

Whether the details of the story of Dame Mary, or Dame Jane (an 'old
Jezebel,' as her enemies called her) be true or not; whether it be a
distorted reproduction of some of the misdeeds of her father-in-law,
the third John; or whether the real cause of the misunderstanding
between her husband and her faithless self was the now fast-growing
rivalry between the ports of Penryn and Falmouth--this much at least
is certain: that in the year 1633 Dame Jane gave to the mayor of
'Permarin,' and his successors in office for ever, a handsome silver
chalice, still used as a loving-cup at the mayor-choosings, on which
it is recorded that the Penryn mayor succoured her when she was 'in
greate miserie.'[58] The unhappy pair were divorced, without issue; the
husband dying in 1632 or 1636, and his wife twelve years afterwards.

A few words may be added here on the subject of the harbour. Penryn,
the more ancient port, lies at the head of a long, tortuous creek;
more secure, doubtless, from its position, and its once stockaded
channel, from an enemy's ships than Falmouth was before the erection of
Pendennis and St. Mawes Castles; and to Truro the same remark applied
with still greater force. The rivalry between the two more ancient
ports, Penryn and Truro, and the comparatively modern Falmouth, was,
as may be supposed, of the keenest; but the natural advantages of
Falmouth--at length defended by two forts, and aided by the powerful
interest of the Killigrews--prevailed; and Falmouth, too, became 'a
port.' A town--now one of the largest, busiest, and gayest of the quiet
towns of Cornwall--accordingly sprang up around the once lonely site of
Arwenack.[59]

Failing issue of the eldest brother, Sir William, the first
baronet--and also of Sir John--Sir Peter, first knight of that name,
now becomes the representative of this, the elder branch of the
family: 'a merry youth, bred under the Earl of Bristol,' says one
authority--and known as 'Peter the Post,' as another tells us, from the
alacrity with which he despatched 'like wild-fire' all the messages
and other commissions entrusted to him in the King's cause. On him was
laid the important duty of conveying from Oxford the King's proposals
to the Parliament in January, 1645. Like Rupert himself, he seems to
have been in perpetual motion; and on one occasion, during 'Oliver's
usurpation,' Sir Peter rode from Madrid, through France, and having
passed the sea, got to London in seven days. Like Sir Tristram in the
'Monks and Giants,'

  'From realm to realm he ran, and never staid.'

He was one of those who very nearly succeeded, it is said, in enabling
Charles I. to effect his escape into France; and it was in his time
that (as it is said) in revenge for his attachment to the Stuart cause,
the mansion of Arwenack was ruined by Waller during the memorable
operations of the siege in the time of the Civil War. It is, however,
not improbable that its destruction was commenced by its patriotic
owner in order to prevent its occupation by the enemy. Pendennis
was the last castle (except Raglan) which held out for the King's
cause;[60] but on the 16th August, 1646, it too was forced to surrender
(though with flying colours, and all the honours of war) to Fairfax,
after a terrible five months of siege 'and famine and harsh wounds,'
endured gallantly by old John Arundell of Trerice, then nearly eighty
years of age.

    'Lady Penelope, fair Queen, most chast,
    Pendennis, of all Royall Forts the last,
    The last, the only, Fort ne'er conquered was,
    Ne'er shall be; who in constancy doth passe
      The rest of all thy sisters, who to thee
    (The eclipse of all thy kinde) but strumpets be.'

The author of these verses, after the surrender, significantly, and not
unnecessarily, added the ensuing note:

    'Penelopen ipsam (persta modo), tempore vinces,
       Capta vides sero Pergama; capta tamen.'

The family estates, worth, at one time, £6,000 a year, had sadly
dwindled away by the time they came into the second Sir Peter's
possession; indeed, they are said to have been worth no more than about
£80 a year; yet he contrived to become elected M.P. for Camelford, and
by 1630 had married Mary, the sister of Lord Lucas, of Colchester, Earl
Pembroke giving the marriage portion of 'a good £300 a year;' and the
_Mercurius Politicus_ for 15th March, 1660, informs us that in that
month he was made Governor of Pendennis by General Monk. This Sir Peter
continued, like his predecessors, a sturdy champion of Falmouth. He got
the Custom House removed from its old place at Penryn, to his own more
modern town; carved the parish of Falmouth out of that of St. Budock
(15 Charles II.); and, with the assistance of the King and others,
built and endowed the church, dedicated to the memory of King Charles
the martyr,[61] where his own bones first, and then those of other
Killigrews after him, were laid. Some accounts give 1670 as the date
of his death; others say--probably more accurately--that he died on
the road to Exeter, in 1667: possibly killed on one of his break-neck
rides; for, as we have seen, he was a man of no common energy and
daring. He left three children: Peter, William, and Elizabeth.

Of the sister it seems unnecessary to say more than that she married a
Count de Kinski, a title which, I believe, still survives. William, who
died unmarried in 1678, became a soldier of fortune, and ultimately a
general officer; and he was commander-in-chief of some Danish forces,
sent by the Spaniards against the Swedes. After one of his successful
engagements, he sold certain captured horses (his share of the spoil)
to His Majesty of Denmark for some £3,000. But failing to get his money
from his royal employer, the general executed the military movement
known as 'right-about-face,' and transferred his sword to the Dutch,
by whom his valour was more honourably rewarded. I have failed to
trace the details of his career; but he seems to have been recalled
to England at the Restoration, and had a regiment of foot. His nephew
succeeded to his estate, which Martin Lister says was 'composed more of
honour than of substance.'

It is, however, with the elder son of this generation that we have
chiefly to deal, for through him the succession was kept up. Sir
Peter, the second baronet (inheriting that title from his uncle, the
foregoing Sir William, the first), was born in 1634, and was educated,
notwithstanding his father's reduced estate, first at Oxford, and
afterwards in France. Whilst he was at Oxford, the horrible execution
of Anne Green, for murdering her infant illegitimate child, took place.
After hanging for half an hour, she recovered her life in consequence
of judicious medical treatment; and full particulars of the event
are given in a rare little volume published at Oxford in 1651, and
entitled 'News from the Dead.' To this work many of the members of the
university contributed short sets of verses, some in Latin, some in
English. The following lines were those supplied by the Cornish baronet:

    'Death, spare your threats, we scorne now to obey;
    If Women conquer thee, surely Men may.
    How came this Champion on I cannot tell,
    But I nere heard of one _come off_ so well.

                      'PET. KILLIGREW, Eq. Aur. fil. Coll. Reg.'

And here is a specimen of his powers as a writer of Latin verse, on a
very different subject:

[PRO REGE SOTERIA.]

    'Funera funeribus commiscens, bustaq; bustis
      Ira avidæ, nato Principe, pestis abit.
    Filius an regis potuit dum vagijt infans
      A tôta rabidam gente fugare luem?
    Nec valet, Antidotas sibi Rex, depellere varos
      Cujus Apollinea est tarn benè nota manus?
    Tantane _Carolidæ_ potuêre crepundia? plebem
      De tumulo redimet qui modò natus erat?
    Et res usque; nova est? morbum miramur abortum,
      Depulsum sceptro, Carole magne, tuo?'

In 1662, Sir Peter, who had been made Governor of Pendennis on the
Restoration, married the handsome, virtuous, and accomplished Frances
Twysden, daughter of Sir Roger, the well-known judge of that name;[62]
and the union appears to have been a happy one in every respect, save
as to the offspring. Peter, the eldest, died young; George, the second
son, was killed in a tavern brawl at Penryn (at the house of a Mr.
Chalons, says Tonkin), by 'a stab in the back' from a barrister named
Walter Vincent. Another account states that the skull, which was found
in 1861, showed that the hole made by the rapier was clearly visible in
the forehead. Frances, the elder daughter, married a Cornish gentleman
named Richard Erissey,[63] who 'cast her off' three years after their
marriage. Ann, the youngest, who died without issue, married Martin
Lister, a Staffordshire gentleman and soldier of fortune, who assumed
the name of Killigrew, and managed the estates for many years. Clearly
the main stem of the great race of Killigrew was rapidly decaying!

On the death, or murder, of his son George, old Sir Peter, who had
gone to live at Arwenack in 1670, disappointed at having no male
issue, and sick of the innumerable squabbles in which he found himself
involved with the Falmouth folk, retired, first to London, and then,
in 1697, to Ludlow, where he passed his time in scientific pursuits
of a speculative character, the results of which appear to have died
with him. His portrait, by Sir Godfrey Kneller, now in the possession
of Mrs. Boddam Castle, of Grove House, Clifton (a descendant of the
Killigrews), fully harmonizes with what we know of his character. One
practical thing, however, he did: viz., to build the public quay at
Falmouth; and to that old town, endeared to him by so many pleasant
memories of the past, were his remains conveyed to be interred in
the parish church, among those of his more immediate ancestors. The
monuments are not, at present, to be seen; perhaps they are hidden
under the raised floor of the chancel: but there were laid, in 1704,
the remains of Sir Peter Killigrew,--the last male in the main[64] line.

George, his son, though, as we have seen, he died young, was not
unmarried. He gained for his wife an offshoot of another old Cornish
family, Ann, daughter of Sir John St. Aubyn, Bart., by whom he had
issue one daughter (Ann), married to a Major John Dunbar. To the
heiress of the ill-starred Erissey match--Sir Peter's youngest
grand-daughter, Mary--the bulk of the remaining Killigrew property
seems to have descended; and through her the present representative of
the family (the Earl of Kimberley) holds it. She married, in 1711, a
Colonel John West.[65]

There are few things more amusing in its way than the account which
Mr. R. N. Worth has preserved for us in the _Journal of the Royal
Institution of Cornwall_, of the arrangements which Martin Killigrew
(Lister) requested should be made for Colonel West's reception at
Arwenack. They are as follows:

 'MR. ABRM. HALL,

     *      *      *      *      *

  'It is but by guess I have to tell you that you are not to expect to
  see ye Col^n. till about ye end of ye first week in May, who bringing
  with him ye young gentleman[66] in question, must add considerably
  to ye flurry you will be put in from his being a person of great
  consideration as I hear, tho' I know not so much as his name and as
  Little any particular of his circumstances. But suppose you must be
  advised by the Col^n. as to your providing accommodation for their
  Retinue: Two bed chambers for ye gentlemen you will put in ye best
  order you can; a room for ye servants to Eat in: The best Cook your
  Town affords; some choise good Hambs and a provision of fatt chickens:
  Wine you must leave Mr. James to provide; and if any fine green
  Tea[67] be to be had, you must secure some of it, as what ye Col^n.
  is most Nice in, and drinkes much off. Two of ye largest Tea potts
  you can borrow, He using them both at a time. Nice and knowing beyond
  ye comon in providing a Table, so that your Mother will only have to
  receive his orders every morning on that head. The stable put in ye
  best order you can, provided with Hay and Corne.

  'If I do not greatly mistake, this flurry cannot continue above three
  weeks, for that their impatience will be greater to get back to Bath
  than it is to see Falmouth.

  'You are still in time to see that your Closett and Books be put in ye
  best Order you can, and nothing to be seen there belonging to other
  people's business, but only to ye Estate. You will finde ye Col^n.
  quick of comprehention and as ready at figures as can be supposed.

  '_At ye same time you observe to them ye great sums I have raised
  from ye Estate you will do me Justice to note ye improvements I
  have made upon it. And that tho' times are now dead as thro'out ye
  kingdome, yet as they have been good it may reasonably be hoped they
  will be so again, & that in ye main you doubt not of giving a yearly
  demonstration (by ye Rentall) of ye increase of ye Estate_; when Diner
  is over you get back to your Closet, and as you see it proper, you
  returne with your pen in your ear, making ye Col^n. sensible he is
  wanted above, whereby he may git rid of impertinant Comp^n. if such
  be with him. Nor can I see in respect to time ye Col^n. can do more
  in business than from day to day, he giving you orders which you will
  take in writing, and at parting take his hand to them, you giving him
  a duplicate.

  'You will be able to borrow glasses, knives, forks, and spoons, with
  some handsome pieces of plate, in everything to make ye best figure
  you can; and if you can borrow a better horse than your own, you
  ought to do it. Relying upon ye Col^n. generosity (His greatest
  fault), you will be nothing out of pocket upon this occasion. As
  from me pray your Mother to trouble ye Col^n. with as Little of her
  conversation as her business will admit off. I thinke enough at a time
  to a man of your accute parts--

                    'Yours
                        'MART. KILLIGREW.

  'St. James's, 16th April, 1737.'

It will be seen from the above that Martin was a man of some mettle,
and able to manage the affairs of his stewardship adroitly, though
far away from the scene. He was always at war with the Corporation of
Falmouth, of which borough he was for some time Recorder, and he died
in St. James's Square, London, on 7th March, 1745.[68]

Amongst the latest notices of any member of the family that I have
met with, one is contained in the sprightly pages of Mrs. Delany's
'Life and Correspondence;' the subject of her remarks seems to have
been a true Killigrew, at least so far as his dramatic talent affords
any indication. On the 26th January, 1752, at Mr. Bushe's (near
Dublin), at a dinner-party, she met a Mr. Killigrew, who was 'a very
entertaining, charming man, well-bred, good-humoured, and sings in a
most extraordinary manner; has a fine voice, fine taste, no knowledge
of music, but the exactest imitation of Senesino and Monticelli that
you can imagine. He sings French songs incomparably, with so much
humour that in spite of my gloom he made me laugh heartily.'

Of another, the last male of his name, Thomas Guildford Killigrew,
I find from _Notes and Queries_, 1873, p. 224, and also from other
sources, including information[69] with which I have been favoured by
Mrs. Boddam Castle, that he married Miss Catharine Chubb, a distant
relative, after having much impoverished himself in the Stuart cause
in 1745, and that he settled in Bristol for the sake of economy. He
died in 1782 without issue. At his death Mrs. Killigrew adopted her
great niece, Mary Iago, afterwards married to Daniel Wait, Mayor of
Bristol, in 1805. On the death of Mrs. Killigrew, in 1810, the family
plate and portraits (one of the latter, Sir Peter Killigrew, by Sir
Godfrey Kneller, and another, of Thomas Guildford Killigrew himself)
passed to Mrs. Wait by will, and from her to Mrs. Boddam Castle, wife
of Mr. Boddam Castle, barrister-at-law, now residing at Clifton. Some
of the plate is more than 150 years old; the crest a demi-griffin, with
'T.C.K.' over it.

The last who bore the surname of Killigrew was Frances Maria (daughter
of George Augustus Killigrew, of Bond Street), who died in Portman
Street, London, on 20th July, 1819, aged seventy-one.

And here let us pause, after having exhausted (so far as I am aware)
all the sources of information, and having, I believe, at least set
down all that was noteworthy, of the _elder_ branch of the Killigrews.


_THE SECOND BRANCH._

John Killigrew, the first Captain of Pendennis, had three brothers,
James, Thomas, and Bennet, of whom I can learn nothing of interest. And
he also had other sons than John the second knight, his successor at
Pendennis Castle, of whom we have already heard. One son--Thomas--died
young. Another, the fourth son, was the famous Sir Henry Killigrew,
Knight, who sat as Member of Parliament for Launceston in 1552-53,
and for Truro about twenty years later. Him let us take as our first
representative of the younger branch of the family. He is described
as a Teller of the Exchequer, Commander of 'Newhaven' (Nieuwport),
and Ambassador to Germany, France (where he temporarily relieved Sir
Francis Walsingham), Scotland, the Palatinate, Frankfort, and the Low
Countries.[70] Of a man of such mark--one whom Emerson would have
called 'a bright personality'--traces would assuredly be forthcoming;
and we do not seek them in vain amongst the Lansdowne, the Cottonian,
the Egerton, and the 'Additional' Manuscripts in the British Museum;
amongst the Scotch MSS.; and in the Public Record Office. Moreover, the
Yelverton MSS. contain references to him, as also do the collections in
Lambeth Palace Library. Most of these are Letters, Instructions, and
Memorials, referring to the diplomatic functions which he was called
upon to discharge, and partaking rather too much of the 'Dryasdust'
character to be interesting to the general reader. There are some
verses by him to 'My Ladye Cecylle' (his wife's sister), preserved in
the Cambridge University Library; but I propose to omit these in favour
of some Latin lines addressed to the same lady by Sir Henry's wife;
not only because of the courteous maxim, '_Place aux dames_,' but also
because the lady's verses are really charming. In lieu of any specimen
of Sir Henry's _poetic_ vein, an extract from a letter which he wrote
from Edinburgh, on 6th October, 1572, descriptive of John Knox--towards
the close of his life--and some other fragments of his prose, will
probably be more acceptable. 'John Knox,' he says, 'is now so feeble
as scarce can he stand alone, or speak to be heard of any audience,
yet doth he every Sunday cause himself to be carried to a place where
a certain number do hear him, and preacheth with the same vehemency
and zeal that ever he did.' This account is fully confirmed by another
contemporary description of him, which is so graphic that I cannot
refrain from giving it.

From May, 1571, to August, 1572, Knox lived in St. Andrews, and
frequently preached there. 'I haid my pen and my little book,' says
James Melville, 'and tuk away sic things as I could comprehend. In the
opening upe of his text he was moderat the space of an halff houre; bot
when he enteret to application, he maid me sa to grew & tremble, that I
could nocht hald a pen to wryt.... He was verie weak. I saw him everie
day of his doctrine go hulie and fear, with a furring of martriks about
his neck, a staff in the an hand, and guid godlie Richart Ballanden,
his servand, halding upe the uther oxtar, from the Abbay to the paroche
kirk; and be the said Richart and another servant, lifted upe to the
pulpit, whar he behovit to lean at his first entrie; bot or he haid
done with his sermont, he was sa active and vigorus that he was lyk to
ding that pulpit in blads, and fly out of it!' But his work was nearly
done; weary of the world, and 'thirsting to depart,' in a few months he
entered into his rest.

We learn of Sir Henry, from Heppe, that Queen Elizabeth being very
desirous of concluding a sincere alliance, or 'Common League,' between
herself and the Evangelical Princes of the Empire, sent to the Elector
Palatine and other the Electors of the Holy Roman Empire and the
States, Henry Killigrew--her 'approved and faithful servant'--and her
'orator,' Dr. Mount, with a view to counteracting 'the pernicious and
sanguinary plots of certain persons against all the professors of the
Holy Gospel in every place.' The Congress to which they were accredited
met at Frankfort, in April, 1569, but Killigrew and Mount arrived too
late for it.

These, and other of his diplomatic missions are referred to in the
following extract from a memorial in Leonard Howard's 'Collection of
Letters of Princes, Great Personages, and Statesmen.' After recounting
his many[71] diplomatic missions for his Queen to France, 'to discover
theire intents there against this Realme;' to Germany, 'to sound the
Princes of Germanye touching a League defensive for Religion' (for
which he had 'but Fortye Pounds allowance for all manner of Chardges;
which coste me as muche more with the least'); and again several times
to those Countries, as well as to Scotland in 1573, and to Newhaven,
where he was hurt and imprisoned--Sir Henry thus concludes:

'Now for all these Journeys, Chardges, Daungers, Hurtes and Losses,
in the meanwhile, and the Tyme used only in her Majesties' service,
without any Proffitt of my owne, I have only to lyve by, of Her
Majesties' Goodness, the Tellershippe, which was given me before I went
to Newehaven....' In consideration of all which--by way of a provision
for his family--he prefers a 'Suite for the said Firme of the Manor of
Sarrake (?) in Cornwall ...'; adding, 'The Rent is somewhat great, I
confess; but truly the Profitt nothinge equall.'

Let us hope that services so long, so faithful, and so important, at
length received their reward. That they probably did may be surmised
from the following account of the close of his active career, given
by the Cornish historian Carew: 'After ambassades and messages, and
many other profitable employments of peace and warre, in his prince's
service, to the good of his country, (Sir Henry Killigrew) hath made
choyce of a retyred estate, and, reverently regarded by all sorts,
placeth his principal contentment in himselfe, which, to a life so well
acted, can no way bee wanting.'

Lord Burleigh's instructions to him,[72] on the subject of his Scotch
mission, written with his own hand, dated 10th September, 1572,
especially as to getting Mary Queen of Scots out of the kingdom, and
delivering her to the Regent's party, form a most interesting document.
The letter closes thus: 'Herein yow shall, as Comodite shall serve yow,
use all good Spede, with the most Secresy that yow can, to understand
their Mynds; _and yet so to deale to your uttermost, that this Matter
might be rather Oppened to yow, than yourself to seme first to move
it_....'

Another object of his momentous mission to Scotland, as to which
Elizabeth gave him her instructions with her own mouth, was to impress
upon Mary Queen of Scots a sense of her faults, her duties, and her
danger--a vain task! Froude gives an account of the interview, which
took place after Darnley's murder. 'The windows at Holyrood were
half-closed, the rooms were darkened, and in the profound gloom the
English Ambassador was unable to see the Queen's face, but by her
words she seemed very doleful.' And at length, having extorted from
her a promise that Bothwell should be put upon his trial, Killigrew
went back to London in less than a week, after having carried out his
difficult and delicate duty 'like a loyal servant.'

The 'Cabala' states that when Henry Killigrew went to France, he was
considered 'in livelihood much inferior to Walsingham;' but Leicester's
opinion of him was subjected to revision. He says he found our hero
'a quicker and stouter fellow than he tooke him for.' I have often
wondered whether this impression was derived from Sir Henry's bearing
when the question of his pay was mooted. '60/ a pece, per dyem' had
been set down, complains Leicester, writing to Walsingham on 15th
December, 1585, as the pay of Killigrew and his colleague, whereas _he_
had understood it was to be only 40s. The Earl's impression proved to
be correct, and heart-burnings doubtless arose; with what result I
know not, but Leicester's revised estimate of his man may point to the
event. Sir H. Killigrew was at the siege of St. Quentin, in 1557; and
Sir James Melville says how he met at La Ferre (? La Frette) 'Maister
Hary Killygrew, an Englis gentleman, my auld frend, wha held my horse
till I sate down in ane barbour's buith, to be pensit of the hurt in
my head.'[73] He is found described, amongst the strangers resident
in London in 1595 ('Nichols' Collections,' viii. 206), as living then
in 'Broad Street Warde;' and he died on the 16th March, 1602/3. The
character of this 'Admirable Crichton' has been so well drawn by David
Lloyd in his 'State Worthies,' that I cannot refrain from giving it, in
the words of Whitworth's translation.

  'Travellers report, that the place wherein the body of Absalom was
  buried is still extant at Jerusalem, and that it is a solemn custome
  of pilgrims passing by it to cast a stone on the place; but a
  well-disposed man can hardly go by the memory of this worthy person
  without doing grateful homage thereunto in bestowing upon him one or
  two of our observations.

  'It's a question sometimes whether diamond gives more lustre to
  the ring it's set in, or the ring to the diamond; this gentleman
  received honour from his family, and gave renoun to it. Writing is the
  character of the speech, as that is of the mind. From Tully (whose
  orations he could repeat to his dying day) he gained an even and
  apt stile, flowing at one and the selfsame height. Tully's Offices,
  a book which boys read, and men understand, was so esteemed of my
  Lord Burleigh, that to his dying day he always carried it about him,
  either in his bosome or his pocket, as a compleat piece that, like
  Aristotle's rhetorick, would make both a scholar and an honest man.
  Cicero's magnificent orations against Anthony, Catiline and Verres;
  Cæsar's great Commentaries that he wrote with the same spirit that
  he fought; flowing Livy; grave, judicious and stately Tacitus;
  eloquent, but faithful Curtius; brief and rich Salust; prudent and
  brave Xenophon, whose person was Themistocles his companion, as his
  book was Scipio Affricanus his pattern in all his wars; ancient
  and sweet Herodotus; sententious and observing Thucidides; various
  and useful Polybius; Siculus, Halicarnasseus, Trogus, Orosius,
  Justine, made up our young man's retinue in all his travels where
  (as Diodorus the Sicilian writes) he "_sate on the stage of human
  life, observing the great circumstances of places, persons, times,
  manners, occasions, etc, and was made wise by their example who haue
  trod the path of errour and danger before him_." To which he added
  that grave, weighty and sweet Plutarch, whose books (said Gaza) would
  furnish the world, were all others lost. Neither was he amazed in the
  labyrinth of history, but guided by the clue of cosmography, hanging
  his study with maps, and his mind with exact notices of each place.
  He made in one view a judgement of the situation, interest, and
  commodities (for want whereof many statemen and souldiers have[74]
  failed) of nations; but to understand the nature of places, is but a
  poor knowledge, unless we know how to improue them by art; therefore
  under the figures of triangles, squares, circles and magnitudes, with
  their terms and bounds, he could contrive most tools and instruments,
  most engines, and judge of fortifications, architecture, ships, wind
  and water-works, and whatever might make this lower frame of things
  useful and serviceable to mankinde; which severer studies he relieved
  with noble and free Poetry-aid, once the pleasure and advancement
  of the soul, made by those higher motions of the minde more active
  and more large. To which I adde her sister Musick, wherewith he
  revived his tired spirits, lengthened (as he said) his sickly days,
  opened his oppressed breast, eased his melancholy thoughts, graced
  his happy pronunciation, ordered and refined his irregular and gross
  inclinations, fixed and quickened his floating and dead notions;
  and by a secret, sweet and heavenly Vertue, raised his spirit, as
  he confessed, sometime to a little less than angelical exaltation.
  Curious he was to please his ear, and as exact to please his eye;
  there being no statues, inscriptions or coyns that the Vertuosi of
  Italy could shew, the antiquaries of France could boast off, or the
  great hoarder of rarieties the great duke of Tuscany (whose antic
  coyns are worth £100,000) could pretend to, that he had not the view
  of. No man could draw any place or work better, none fancy and paint a
  portraicture more lively; being a Durer for proportion, a Goltzius for
  a bold touch, variety of posture, a curious and true shadow, an Angelo
  for his happy fancy, and an Holben for works.

  'Neither was it a bare ornament of discourse, or naked diversion of
  leisure time; but a most weighty piece of knowledge that he could
  blazon most noble and ancient coats, and thereby discern the relation,
  interest, and correspondence of great families, and thereby the
  meaning and bottom of all transactions, and the most successful
  way of dealing with any one family. His exercises were such as his
  employments were like to be, gentle and man-like. Whereof the two
  most eminent were riding and shooting that at once wholesomely
  stirred, and nobly knitted and strengthened his body. Two eyes he
  said he travelled with; the one of wariness upon himself, the other
  of observation upon others. This compleat gentleman was guardian to
  the young Brandon in his younger years, agent for Sir John Mason in
  king Edward the sixth's time, and the first embassador for the state
  in Queen Elizabeth's time. My Lord Cobham is to amuse the Spaniard,
  my Lord Effingham to undermine the French, and Sir Henry Killigrew
  is privately sent to engage the German princes against Austria in
  point of interest, and for her majesty in point of religion: he had
  a humour that bewitched the elector of Bavaria, a carriage that awed
  him of Mentz, a reputation that obliged them of Colen and Hydelberg,
  and that reach and fluency in discourse that won them all. He assisted
  the Lords Hunsdon and Howard at the treaty with France in London,
  and my Lord of Essex in the war for France and Britain. Neither was
  he less observable for his own conduct than for that of others,
  whose severe thoughts, words and carriage so awed his inferiour
  faculties, as to restrain him through all the heats of youth, made
  more than usually importunate by the full vigour of a high and
  sanguine constitution; insomuch that they say he looked upon all
  the approaches to that sin, then so familiar to his calling as a
  souldier, his quality as a gentleman, and his station as a courtier,
  not onely with an utter disallowance in his judgement, but with a
  natural abhorrency and antipathy in his very lower inclinations.
  To which happiness it conduced not a little, that though he had a
  good, yet he had a restrained appetite (a knife upon his throat as
  well as upon his trencher) that indulged itself neither frequent nor
  delicate entertainment; its meals, though but once a day, being its
  pressures, and its fast, its only sensualities; to which temperance in
  diet, adde but that in sleep, together with his disposal of himself
  throughout his life to industry and diligence, you will say he was a
  spotless man, whose life taught us this lesson, (which, if observed,
  would accomplish mankinde; and which King Charles the first would
  inculcate to noble travellers, and Dr. Hammond to all men), viz.: _To
  be furnished always with something to do_; a lesson they proposed as
  the best expedience for innocence and pleasure; the foresaid blessed
  man assuring his happy hearers, "_That no burden is more heavy, or
  temptation more dangerous, then to have time lie on one's hand: the
  idle man being not onely_" (as he worded it) "_the Devil's shop, but
  his kingdome too; a model of, and an appendage unto Hell, a place
  given up to torment and to mischief_."'

He left four daughters only, Anna, Dorothy, Elizabeth, and Mary, by his
wife Katherine, fourth of the erudite daughters of Sir Anthony Cooke,
of Giddy Hall, Essex, the accomplished Preceptor of Edward VI.--'vir
antiqua serenitate,' according to Camden--from whom (as Strype tells
us) his 'daughter Killigrew' inherited, amongst other things, 'a nest
of white bowls.'

Dame Katherine was skilled, after the manner of the learned ladies of
her time, in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and in poetry; and both Sir
John Harrington and Thomas Fuller commend and quote her compositions.
But that, with all her learning, she had, what was even better, a
devotedly affectionate heart, let the following lines testify, which
she addressed to her sister Mildred, who had married Cecil, Lord
Burghley.[75] The Lord Treasurer was about to send his young relative
on a diplomatic mission to France, at a dangerous juncture--whether
before or after the death in that country of Thomas Hobby, who married
her sister Elizabeth, and who also went to France as an ambassador, I
am uncertain--while the loving Katherine thought her husband would be
safer and happier with her in Cornwall--probably either at Arwenack, or
at Rosmeryn in Budock, or at Trevose in Mawgan, or at Penwerris, at all
of which places were estates of the Killigrews. The dauntless wife thus
threatens Elizabeth's solemn First Minister:

    'Si mihi quem cupio cures Mildreda remitti
    Tu bona, tu melior, tu mihi sola soror:
    Sin male cessando retines, et trans mare mittis,
    Tu mala, tu pejor, tu mihi nulla soror.
    Is si Cornubiam, tibi pax sit et omnia læta,
    Sin Mare, Ciciliæ nuncio bella. Vale.'

Of which, for the benefit of (some few at least of) my lady readers in
these later days, I have appended Fuller's harsh translation:

    'If, Mildred, by thy care, he be sent back whom I request,
    A sister _good_ thou art to me, yea _better_, yea the _best_.
    But if with stays thou keep'st him still, or send'st where seas
          may part,
    Then unto me a sister _ill_, yea _worse_, yea _none_ thou art.
    If go to Cornwall he shall _please_, I _peace_ to thee foretell;
    But, Cecil, if he set to Seas, I _war_ denounce. Farewell.'

Fortunately, thanks to the poetic skill of my friend Mr. H. G. Hewlett,
I am able to give his smoother and more classical rendering of the
lines:

    'Mildred! if truly my sister, the best, the one of all others,
      Make it thy care to send back him whom I love to my arms.
    If by neglect thou withholdest thine aid, and art cause of his
          exile,
      Wicked, the worst, wilt thou be, sister in nowise of mine.
    Should he to Cornwall return, all is peace with the Cecils and
          kindness;
      If o'er the sea he depart, count on my hatred! Farewell!'

I do not know the exact date of Dame Katherine Killigrew's death; but
she was alive on the 22nd May, 1576. She was buried in the Church of
St. Thomas the Apostle, in the Vintry Ward of the City of London, where
there is--or rather was, for the church is destroyed--'her elegant
monument;' and many Greek and Latin verses were addressed to her memory
by her sister Elizabeth and others. She thus wrote her own epitaph:

    'Dormio nunc Domino, Domini virtute resurgam;
      Et [Greek: sôtêra] meum came videbo meâ.
    Mortua ne dicar, fruitur pars altera Christo:
      Et surgam capiti tempore tota meo.'

By his second wife, Jael de Peigne, the friend and hostess of Isaac
Casaubon, our Sir Henry left two sons, Sir Joseph and Sir Henry
Killigrew, and one daughter; but nearly all traces of Sir Joseph and
his sister Jane are lost, save what is interesting to the genealogist
alone.


But Henry was a man of some mark. He was one of those loyal Members
of the House of Commons who refused to join the Parliament against
the Crown, and is described by Clarendon as 'a person of entire
affections to the King,' and as commanding a troop of horse on Charles
I.'s march from Shrewsbury to London in 1642.[76] The Lords Capel
and Hopton were particular friends of his; and with such Royalist
connexions and predilections, one is not surprised to learn that,
together with Messrs. Coryton, Scawen, and Roscarroth, he was elected
one of the Royal Commissioners for the County of Cornwall; and that,
when Pendennis Castle was besieged, he was one of its stout defenders,
remaining in it to the very last, and striving, both by sword and
pen, to shake off the grip of the Roundhead bulldogs; all in vain, as
we have already seen. The following letter from Lord Jermyn, who had
married his cousin Katherine, serves to show, at once how sore were
the straits of the besieged, and how highly their efforts were rated
by Queen Henrietta Maria. (It will be remembered that Harry Jermyn was
commander-in-chief of the army which marched from York to Oxford for
the relief of Charles I., under the Queen, who used to style herself,
'She Majesty Generalissima over all.' It is believed that relations
of too intimate a character existed between the Queen and _her_
commander-in-chief.)

  'MY DEAR COUSIN HARRY,

  'I have received yours, and truly do, with all the grief and respect
  that you can imagine to be in any body, look upon your sufferings and
  bravery in them; and do further assure you that the relief of so many
  excellent men, and preservation of so important a place, is taken into
  all the considerations that the utmost possibility, that can be in the
  Queen to contribute to either, can extend to. The same care is in the
  prince, from whose own hand you will particularly understand it.

  'I have now only time to tell you, that I am confident those little
  stores that will give us and you time to stay and provide for more,
  will be arrived with you; and I do not so encourage you vainly, but
  to let you know a truth that cannot fail, that if you, as I do no
  way doubt, have rightly represented the state of the place, and of
  the minds that are in it, you shall be enabled to give the account
  of it you wish beyond your expectations; and already some money is
  at the sea-side for this purpose, and more shall daily be sent. I
  entreat most earnestly of you that the Governor, Sir John Digby, and
  those other gentlemen that did me the honour to write to me, may find
  here that I shall not fail to give them answer by the next. In the
  mean space, God of heaven keep you all, and give us, if he please, a
  meeting with you in England. I have no more to add.

    'I am, most truly,
        'Your most humble and most faithful Servant,
                                   'HE. JERMYN.'

On the surrender of the Castle,[77] Sir Henry appears to have gone to
St. Malo, where he died on 27th September, 1646, from splinter-wounds
received in the forehead by the explosion of a firearm whilst he
was discharging it in the air after the capitulation of Pendennis.
Clarendon sums up his character for us as being 'a very gallant
gentleman, of a noble extraction, and a fair revenue in land; he was of
excellent parts and great courage, and was exceedingly beloved. He was
a passionate opposer of the extravagant proceedings of the Parliament;'
and, when it came to blows, though he 'was in all actions, and in those
parts where there was most danger, yet he would take no command in the
army, yet he was always consulted; he was of great courage, and of a
pleasant humour, but was a sharp reprover of those who neglected their
duty. His loss was much lamented by all good men.' The Rev. Lionel
Gatford (who acted as chaplain to the Royalists during the siege of
Pendennis) preached Sir Henry Killigrew's funeral sermon, which is
described in a MS. in the possession of S. Elliott Hoskins, M.D.,
F.R.S., Guernsey, as 'une perle de grand prix, lequel ravissoit le
coeur de ses auditeurs.'

Whilst he lay dying of his wound at St. Malo, some priests tried to
convert him to the Roman faith; but he would have nothing to say to
them, and sent for a clergyman of his own Communion forthwith. By his
own wish his body was taken across to Jersey. It lay in state at the
Constable's house at St. Helier's, guarded by his exiled soldiers. The
funeral was performed with all military honours, on 3rd October, 1646,
and the corpse was laid in a vault in the church or 'Temple' of St.
Helier's, near that of Maximilian Norys. His income had been about £800
a year before the troubles of the Civil War; but he had lost it all.

Sir Henry married a lady named Jemima Bael, and by her had one son,
Henry. He too was a warrior; and fell, a Major in the King's army, at
Bridgewater in 1644, whilst defending a magazine of provisions against
an attack by the Parliamentary troops: 'a very hopeful young man,' says
Clarendon, 'the son of a gallant and most deserving father.'

As we have already seen, three daughters only were the fruit of old Sir
Henry's first marriage with Katherine Cooke.

Sir William Killigrew, Knight, the first Sir Henry's next brother, now
claims a short notice. He too--Killigrew-like--was about the Court,
for he was a Groom of the Privy Chamber to James I., and was sworn
in Chamberlain of the Exchequer on 28th November, 1605. He married
Margaret Saundars of Uxbridge, a widow lady; and they seem to have
been a steady-going old couple, to whom, it may be mentioned, John Fox
and Robert Some dedicated a volume of their sermons. There is some
correspondence about Sir William in the Lansdowne MSS. touching his
'farming' the Seals of the Queen's Bench and Common Pleas, to which the
Chief Justice of the latter court objected; and Sir William, who was
appointed to his post by Burghley, seems to have ultimately compromised
matters by receiving the sum of £3,000. The Additional MSS. contain
other references to him; but hardly anything of sufficient interest to
warrant our lingering over his share in the family history. He died at
Lothbury on 23rd November, 1622; and his portrait, with that of Thomas
Carew, by Van Dyck, is preserved in the collection of Her Majesty Queen
Victoria. Richard Carew says that he was 'the most kind patron of all
his country and countrymen's (county) affairs at Court.'


But from this Sir William and 'Mystresse Margarye' descended Killigrews
who have made some noise in the world, as we shall presently find.
Besides two daughters, Katherine and Elizabeth--both of whom married,
but make no figure in our story--they had a son, Sir Robert Killigrew
of Hanworth, a wealthy man, and Chamberlain to two Queens of England,
viz., Elizabeth and the hapless consort of Charles I. He too kept
up the old family connexion with Pendennis Castle--of which he was
made Governor in succession to Sir John Parker, on 11th June, 1632,
towards the close of his life; and he further served the Crown by
going, in 1625, as an Ambassador to the United Provinces. Sir Robert
was an original shareholder in the New River Company (incorporated
in 1619); and was a great stickler for his rights in the matter of
the reclaimed lands in Lindsey Level, Lincolnshire (as to which, see
Dugdale's 'History of Embanking'); moreover, Farnaby, the celebrated
schoolmaster, dedicated to him the 1624 edition of his translations of
'Martial's Epigrams.' He was once 'sequestered' for a manual scuffle in
the House, in 1614, as appears in Spedding's 'Works of Francis Bacon;'
and he was mixed up in the story about the poisoned powder administered
to Sir Thomas Overbury, though it was clearly proved that Killigrew
was not to blame in that matter; but it is nevertheless true that he
was sent from the Council Table to the Fleet Prison for talking with
Overbury at his prison-window, after having paid a visit to Sir Walter
Raleigh in the Tower of London.

Sir Robert gave Whitelocke 'a place for Helston,' whereupon Whitelocke
caused his brother-in-law Bulstrode to be returned for that place.
He must have had a fine seat at Hanworth; for Conway, writing to
Buckingham on 3rd May, 1623, says that on that day the King passed Sir
Robert Killigrew's, 'and there saw the designment of a fine ground: a
pretty lodge, a gracious lady, a fair maid, the daughter, and a fine
bouquet. He saw the pools, the deer, and the herondry; which was his
errand.'

When he took to himself a wife, he went to a good stock, for he
selected Mary Wodehouse, a daughter of Sir Henry Wodehouse, of
Kimberley, Norfolk,[78] known as the 'young' or the 'French' Lady
Killigrew. She was a niece of one whose name (erroneously as we apply
it) is familiar to every Englishman--I mean Lord Bacon. Of Sir Robert
himself, little more need be said here than that he died on the 26th
November, 1632; but his offspring will detain us much longer.


Sir Robert had six daughters and five sons; and it may be as well to
offer first the slight result of my inquiries into the careers of the
former.

They were about the Court of Charles II.; and one of them, Elizabeth,
who married Viscount Shannon, became one of the dissolute King's
mistresses. She died at her house in Pall Mall on 28th July, 1684,
and was buried in Westminster Abbey, 'having no Coat-of-arms of her
own, as the King had assigned her none.' Mary married Sir John James,
Knight; and has a monument at the east end of the north choir aisle
in Westminster Abbey. Of the others, I can only learn that they
married men of title--one the Earl of Yarmouth; another Berkeley, Lord
Fitz-Hardinge; and one married into a grand old Cornish family--the
Godolphins. Another, Anne, 'a beauty and a poetess,' was the first wife
of George Kirk, and the unhappy lady was drowned at London Bridge, in
the Queen's barge, in July, 1641; like so many others of her race, she
was interred in Westminster Abbey.

Robert, the eldest son, died young. The only trace I can find of him
is the following college exercise on the birth of Charles II.:

    'Dum Solis radios abscondit Luna, videmus
      Reginæ ex utero surgere Solem alium:
    Quid tu, Phoebe, redis? et cur te poenitet umbræ?
      Non deerit, vel te deficiente, dies.'

His brother William, next in age, succeeded him as the representative
of the family--a position which he must have held for about seventy
years; for he was nearly ninety when he died, in or about 1694. When a
Gentleman Commoner of Oxford he wrote some verses, which Henry Lawes
thought good enough to set to music; he also wrote four plays; and when
he left the University (where he afterwards took the degree of D.C.L.),
he was forthwith welcomed at Court, and became a Gentleman Usher of
the Privy Chamber, and afterwards Vice-Chamberlain to Queen Katherine.
About 1661 he was made a Baronet, probably on account of his loyal
attachment to the late King, whose body-guard he often commanded. At
York, when the Civil War broke out in 1642, he commanded a troop of
cavalry, composed of servants and retainers of the 1st troop of Life
Guards, under Lord Bernard Stuart; and at Edgehill he was one of the
foremost in Prince Rupert's fiery charge--a charge which at once began
and had almost ended the battle.

Old Sir William kept up the Killigrew connexion with the West-country,
by being, in his turn also, made Governor of Pendennis; but he is best
known and remembered by two little books which he wrote very late in
life, and especially by his 'Artless Midnight Thoughts,' written when
he was eighty-two years old, and described by himself as the reflexions
'of a gentleman at Court, who for many years built on sand, which every
Blast of Cross Fortune has defaced; but now he has laid new Foundations
on the Rock of his Salvation, which no Storms can shake; and will
outlast the Conflagration of the World, when Time shall melt into
Eternity.'[79]

This curious little work is full of pious reflexions and thoughts,
both in prose and verse. It was dedicated first to Charles II., and
afterwards to James II., who had made his old age much happier than
ever his youth was, 'when I shared in all the glories of this Court,
and splendour of Four great Kings for three score years.' He himself
describes the book as 'a small parcel of such fruit as my little cell
in White Hall doth naturally produce from the barren brains of 82 years
old.' He also wrote some plays of a very different stamp from those of
his younger brother, as may be judged from the following lines:

'COMMENDATORY VERSES BEFORE THREE PLAYS[80] OF SIR WILLIAM
KILLIGREW.--(By T. L.)

    'That thy wise and modest Muse
    Flies the Stage's looser use;
    Not bawdry _Wit_ does falsely name,
    And to move laughter puts off shame:--
    'That thy theatre's loud noise
    May be virgin's chaste applause;
    And the stoled matron, grave divine,
    Their lectures done, may tend to thine:--

    'That no actor's made profane,
    To debase Gods, to raise thy strain;
    And people forced, that hear thy Play,
    Their money and their _souls_ to pay:--

    'That thou leav'st affected phrase
    To the shops, to use and praise;
    And breath'st a noble Courtly vein,--
    Such as may Cæsar entertain,

    'When he wearied would lay down
    The burdens that attend a crown;
    Disband his soul's severer powers,
    In mirth and ease dissolve two hours;--

    'These are thy inferior arts,
    These I call thy second parts;--
    But, when thou carriest on the plot,
    And all are lost in th' subtle knot,

       *       *       *       *       *

    'Th' easy and the even design;
    A plot, without a God, divine!--
    Let others' bold pretending pens
    Write acts of Gods, that know not men's;
    In this to thee all must resign;
    Th' Surprise of th' Scene is wholly thine.'

He was buried at the Savoy some time between 1693 and 1695, and left
by his wife, Mary Hill, a Warwickshire lady, one son, Sir Robert,
Vice-Chamberlain to Queen Anne of Denmark, and some time Lord of
the Manor of Crediton, in Devon, whose only son Sir Henry died in
St. Giles'-in-the-Fields, without issue. Of his two daughters, one,
Elizabeth, married Sir Francis Clifton; the other, Mary, married
Frederic de Nassau, Lord of Zulestein. Their son William Henry was in
great favour with our William III., who, in 1695, created him Baron
Enfield, Viscount Tonbridge, and Earl of Rochford; but, as we have
seen, the descent, in _the male line_, from old Sir William became
extinct.

The venerable author of the 'Artless Thoughts' had, however, two
brothers--Thomas[81] and Henry--and of these we have now to speak. Of
the former, 'Tom Killigrew, the King's jester,' as he is sometimes
inaccurately styled--probably more persons have heard than of any other
member of this family; and for his fame he is indebted, perhaps, in as
great a degree to his being enshrined in the pages of that delightful
gossip, Samuel Pepys, as to his printed plays.


Tom was Sir Robert's fourth son, and was born in 1611. Very early he
became, through the family influence, a Page of Honour to Charles I.;
and he followed into exile that monarch's dissolute son, to whom, on
the Restoration, he became a Groom of the Bedchamber and Master of the
Revels, with a salary of £400 per annum. He seems to have added to his
income by taking fees from those who were silly enough to offer them
for using his interest in procuring for the gullible candidates the
post of 'King's physic-taster,' or His Majesty's 'curtain-drawer.'
Doubtless Killigrew was sometimes a minister to the profligacies of
the 'merry' monarch; yet he was also one who could venture to tell a
home-truth to the King when it was absolutely necessary, and when no
one else durst do it. The following story may serve as an example.
One day, Tom Killigrew came into the King's presence, clothed in
pilgrim's weeds, and with a staff in his hand, evidently prepared for
some long journey. 'Whatever are you about now, Killigrew?' cried the
King; 'where are you going?' 'To hell, sir!' replied Tom, 'to fetch
back one Oliver Cromwell to this unfortunate country; it was governed
badly enough in his time, but infinitely better then than it is now.'
An engraved portrait of him, dressed as a pilgrim, and another after
Wissing, representing him with a beard, and armed with a sword, are
preserved in the Print Room of the British Museum. Another instance
of his adroitness in recalling Charles to a sense of his duty may be
mentioned. The King found councils tedious; and would often leave them
before the business was concluded,

    To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
    Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair,

greatly to the disgust of (amongst others) Lauderdale. Accordingly, on
a certain day, Tom Killigrew--between whom and the Chancellor no love
seems to have been lost--offered to bet £100 that _he_ could bring the
King to the council, though the minister himself could not. The bet
was concluded, and Killigrew started off after His Majesty, knowing
probably better than anyone else where he was likely to be found. At
once he disclosed to Charles what had happened, and urged the King to
let him win the bet, whereby he, Tom Killigrew, would be £100 (sorely
wanted, perhaps) in pocket; whilst Lauderdale, who was remarkable
for the tight grip with which he held his money, would be mulct in
that amount. Charles could not resist the double pleasure of annoying
Lauderdale and gratifying Killigrew, and so granted the latter's
request, and won his bet for him.

Thomas Killigrew was sent--not without some misgivings, as it would
seem--by Charles II., whilst in exile, as 'Resident' to Venice; and his
instructions from the King (with many other papers, some of which are
in Killigrew's own writing, are preserved among the Harleian MSS., in
the British Museum) throw an amusing light upon the circumstances of
the Ambassador and his Royal Master. They were, amongst other things,
'to presse the Duke to furnish Us with a present Some of Money and We
will engage Ourself by any Act or Acts to repay with Interest, and so
like wise for any Armes and Ammunition hee shalbe pleased to furnish Us
withall. The summe you shall moue him to furnish Us with shall be Ten
thousand Pistolls.'

Killigrew's first paper was presented to the Duke and Senate in Venice,
14th February, 1649-50. It consists of five closely-written folio pages
in Latin, and he quotes in it King James's saying of 'Sublato Episcopo
tollitur Rex,' in support of his arguments against the cause of 'the
Rebels,' who, Charles feared, might be sending an ambassador of their
own, on a similar errand, to that Court.

This mission does not seem to have proved very successful; and Tom
Killigrew and his servants got into sad disgrace at Venice with the
Doge, Francis, Erizzo, and other authorities, for their riotous
behaviour, the result being that the whole party were dismissed;
deservedly perhaps, but somewhat informally. On Thomas Killigrew's
return to the English Court, Sir John Denham addressed him in these
lines:

            'Our Resident Tom
            From Venice is come,
    And has left all the statesmen behind him;
            Talks at the same pitch,
            Is as wise, and as rich,
    And just where you left him you'll find him.

            'But who says he's not
            A man of much plot
    May repent of this false accusation;
            Having plotted and penned
            Six plays, to attend
    On the farce of his negotiation.'

The last three lines naturally lead us to a consideration of the
'Resident's' dramatic works, written, as he says, to beguile the tedium
of exile. Thomas Killigrew wrote eleven plays in all; and, according to
Genest, strictly speaking wrote but two at Venice; but the four written
at Naples, Rome, Turin and Florence, were probably completed before his
return to Paris. Dibdin, in his 'History of the Stage,' points out that
these plays are by no means original, tracing some of them to their
sources, and calling them 'paste-and-scissors' affairs. But this is not
their chief defect. I have, as I thought myself in duty bound, read
one of them, and intend never to read another. How it was possible,
even in that dissolute age--'never to be recalled,' as Macaulay says,
'without a blush'--for a man to sit down and deliberately write such
obscene buffoonery, and dedicate it to ladies--some of whom were his
own relations--I cannot imagine. Plays too, of which one, at least,
'The Parson's Wedding,' was to be performed wholly by women! and in
which the words assigned to those who played the women's parts are
scarcely less offensive than those supposed to be spoken by men![82] 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;--luckily they are dead, and
they deserved to die! It is difficult to find an extract which is now
presentable; and I can put my hand on no better specimen, on the whole,
than this:

 WALKING.

  '_Fine Lady._ I am glad I am come home, for I am weary of this
  walking; for God's sake whereabouts does the pleasure of walking lie?
  I swear I have often sought it till I was weary; and yet I could ne'er
  find it.'

Not all of the plays were performed; though 'The Parson's Wedding'
certainly was, at the King's House, and Luellin told Pepys that it was
'an obscene, loose play.' 'Claracilla,' a 'tragi-comedy,' Pepys himself
went to see on 4th July, 1661; he merely says, however, that when he
first saw it, it was 'well acted.' On a second occasion, when he saw
it performed at the Cockpit, he thought it 'a poor play.' He might, in
my opinion, have said the same of them all; but they were nevertheless
sumptuously printed. King Charles II.'s own copy is in the British
Museum (644, m. 11), and a portrait of the author contemplating the
huge pile of his precious productions is prefixed to the volume. The
original of this portrait was painted by W. Sheppard, and splendidly
engraved by William Faithorne; another portrait (also by Sheppard,
according to Redgrave) is in the possession of Mr. J. Buller East, to
whom it was presented, shortly before her death in 1819, by Frances
Maria Killigrew, the last of her name. There is yet another portrait
of Thomas Killigrew, which represents him, not, as Walpole says in his
'Anecdotes of Painting,' 'in a studious posture,' but stooping, worn
out with his vicious life, with a gibbering monkey at his side, and
clad in a tawdry dressing-gown, on which are represented the portraits
of a host of the wantons of his acquaintance. The lines at the foot of
this rare engraving by Bosse (British Museum, {669. f. 4}/90) are an
even more savage caricature than the picture itself.

Of Tom Killigrew's early fondness for plays, Pepys' story will serve
as an illustration. 'I would not forget,' he writes, 'two passages of
Sir J. Minne's at yesterday's dinner, one being Thomas Killigrew's
way of getting to see plays when he was 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.' Would it be going too
far to say that throughout his connection with the stage he stuck to
his youthful part? He talked, however, much better than he wrote; with
Cowley the case was the reverse; hence Denham's epigram:

    'Had Cowley ne'er spoke, Killigrew ne'er writ,
    Combined in one they'd make a matchless wit.'

Pepys describes him as 'a merry droll, but a gentleman of great esteem
with the King; he told us many merry stories;' again, that Killigrew
was 'a great favourite with the King on account of his uncommon vein
of humour;' though on one occasion, when the King went to the Tower
of London, to see the Dunkirk money, the conversation of Killigrew
and the others was but 'poor and frothy.' More than once, however,
Tom Killigrew, to his credit, spoke out, and to the point, in a tone
of which we have already heard something; and Pepys himself has thus
chronicled it:

'Mr. Pierce did also tell me as a great truth, as being told it by Mr.
Cowley (Abraham Cowley the poet), and who was by and heard it, that
_Tom Killigrew_ should publickly tel the King that his matters were
coming into a very ill state; but 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 is one 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."'

On another occasion, when even Charles reproached the 'chartered
libertine' with his many 'idle words,' Killigrew did not shrink from
retorting, with special significance, on the King, that, after all,
'_idle promises_ and _idle patents_' were even worse.

But something should be said of the domestic affairs of the subject
of these observations. He lived, I believe, near that part of the old
Court of Whitehall where Scotland Yard now stands; and, whilst there,
married his first wife, Cecilia, daughter of Sir James Croft--a maid of
honour to Henrietta Maria, and a lady whose portrait by Vandyck is in
her present Majesty's collection.

The weather was rude and boisterous on the wedding-day, which gave rise
to the following lines by Thomas Carew:

    'Such should this day be; so the sun should hide
    His bashfull face, and let the conquering bride
    Without a rivall shine, whilst he forbeares
    To mingle his unequall beames with hers;
    Or if sometime he glance his squinting eye
    Betweene the parting clouds, 'tis but to spye,
    Not emulate her glories; so comes drest
    In vayles, but as a masquer to the feast.'

I fear their wedded life must have been stormy throughout; the very
first thing we hear of their courtship is a dispute in which they
became engaged; and by-and-by we hear of Madam Killigrew's 'Case,'
which sets forth that she brought her husband a fortune of £10,000,
which Tom, writing from the Hague in 1654[83] (the year in which his
wife died of small-pox), solemnly promised not to waste or otherwise
dispose of. Two houses in Scotland Yard were built with the money, or
part of it. Francis Quarles thus bemoaned the hapless lady's fate:
'Sighes at the contemporary deaths of those incomparable Sisters--the
Countesse of Cleaveland and Mistrisse Cicily Killegreue.' (They appear
to have been buried in the same tomb, and to have died within twice two
days of each other.) The little poem ends thus:

                        'My pen,
                   Thou hast transgrest;
                  Archangels, and not Men
              Should sing the story of their Rest:
          But we have done, we leave them to the trust
    Of heaven's eternall Towre, and kisse their sacred Dust.'

About this time we come across a characteristic little story about Tom
Killigrew in Evelyn's 'Diary.'

Sir Richard Browne, writing from Nantes, 1st November, 1653, to Hyde,
then Chancellor of the Exchequer, says that he has sent to him,
carriage paid, three barrels of canary wine to Mr. Thomas Killigrew's
care. But Hyde does not seem to have got them, at any rate for a very
long time. He heard of the arrival of the consignment at Paris, and
that it was there 'conceaved to be Mr. Killigrew's own wyne'!--very
possibly, it may be feared, from the use to which the consignee was
putting it.

Thomas Killigrew was associated with Dryden, Sir William Davenant,
and others, in obtaining a license (which, by the way, Sir Henry
Herbert, his predecessor in the office of Master of the Revels, vainly
endeavoured to get revoked) for a company of players, and a playhouse
which was called the Theatre Royal, and which was situated somewhere
between Drury Lane and Bridge Street.[84]

In fact, Killigrew was playhouse mad, as may be further seen by this
extract from Pepys, date 1664:

  'To King's playhouse: saw Bartholomew Fayre. I chanced to sit by Tom
  Killigrew, who tells me that he is setting up a nursery: that is, is
  going to build a house in Moorefields, wherein he will have common
  plays acted. But four operas it shall have in the year, to act six
  weeks at a time, where we shall have the best scenes and machines--the
  best musique, and everything as magnificent as is in Christendome, and
  to that end hath sent for voices and painters, and other persons from
  Italy.'

  'It might naturally have been supposed' (observes Genest in his
  'History of the Stage') 'that Killigrew, on becoming patentee of the
  Theatre Royal, would have brought out some of his own plays; it does
  not, however, appear that any of them were ever acted, except "The
  Parson's Wedding" and "Claricilla." On the contrary, the silence of
  Langbaine and Downes does not amount to a proof that none were acted;
  as Langbaine did not frequent the theatres till several years after
  the Restoration, and Downes's account of the Theatre Royal is very
  imperfect. "The Pilgrim" is a good T. (theatre) play, with judicious
  alterations it might have been made fit for representation. "Cicilia"
  and "Clarinda," "Thomaso" and "Bellamira's Dream," are, each of them,
  rather one play in ten acts, than two distinct plays. When a play is
  written in two parts, there ought to be some sort of a conclusion
  at the end of the fifth act, but in these plays there is no more
  conclusion at the end of the fifth act than at the end of the first;
  improprieties occur in numberless plays, but perhaps no author ever
  made such strange jumbles as Killigrew has made in "The Princess," and
  "Cicilia" and "Clarinda." All his plays are in prose--most of them
  are of an enormous and tiresome length--verbosity is his perpetual
  fault--there is scarcely a scene in which the dialogue might not be
  shortened to advantage.'

But to return to Killigrew's domestic affairs. Tom married a second
time--one Charlotte Van Hess, who is described as first Lady of the
Queen's Privy Chamber in 1662, and as also holding the apparently
delectable appointment of Keeper of Her Majesty's Sweet Coffer. By this
marriage there were three sons--Thomas, Robert, and Charles, of whom
more hereafter.

Tom Killigrew must have been nearly sixty years old when he narrowly
escaped assassination in St. James's Park. He had had an intrigue with
Lady Shrewsbury, but found a dangerous and more successful rival in
the Duke of Buckingham; whereupon the disappointed rake turned upon
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,
probably hirelings of the inconstant fair one, set upon Tom's chair,
through which they made no less than three passes with their swords,
one of them wounding him in the arm. The assassins fled, leaving Tom
Killigrew in danger of death, and his man quite dead.[85] This brings
nearly to a close all that needs be said about Thomas Killigrew, who
died thirteen or fourteen years after the foregoing event, on the 19th
March, 1682/3, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

Notwithstanding his vices, it may at least be recorded to his credit
that he was faithful to the Stuart cause which he adopted; was never
ambitious, or avaricious; and that it was said of him when he died,
that 'he was bewailed by his friends, and truly wept for by the poor.'

His will is dated on the 15th March, and was proved in the Prerogative
Court on the 19th of the same month by his son Henry, his executor,
and residuary legatee. He left some houses in Scotland Yard, and he
mentions a pension from the King. 'In the will,' says my authority,
'_there is no jest_.' That his pecuniary affairs were not in a very
satisfactory condition would seem to be the case from a statement of
'Secret Money Services Charles II. and James II.,' 'Payd to several
persons for the respective causes, uses and purposes und^r-menc'oned,
as by divers acquittances & a particular accompt signed & allowed in
the like manner on the 14th day of June, 1683, doth appear, several
sumes amounting to £4,743 4½d.--amongst others To James Gray, for
and towards the funeral charges of Tho^s. Killigrew, deceased, £50.'
This supposition would also appear to be confirmed by the following
autograph letter, written when Tom Killigrew must have been about
seventy years old (Harl. MSS. 2, 7005, art. 42):--

  'For Mrs. Francesse Frecheville, Thes:

  'DEAR MRS. FRECHEUILLE,

  'You may imagen your letter was very well come to me for I receved it
  att a time when I needed all the kindnes you expresse to me in it and
  all the consolation it brought me, for I was halfe dead, but I am of
  the opinion that the greatest cordiall in the world, and that which
  will bring one allmost from death to life, is the kindnes of a person
  for whome one has a great estime, and I am sure you cannot doubt but I
  have as much for you as it is possible, since I could never desemble
  in my life nor neuer make an expressione that I did not meane sencerly
  from my hart, I hope you doe beleeue this and that you will allwayes
  continue affectione to me since you can bestow it upon nobody that is
  more sencible of it and that will more reioyce in it than my selfe
  pardon this most horible scribble and beleeve I am with as much trewth
  as tis possible

    'Dear Mrs. Frechevill
        'Your most affectionate
                'humble Servant,
                      'T. KILLIGREW.

  'My Lady Anne is Your humble Servant.'

Of his three sons by his second marriage, Thomas, generally known as
Tom Killigrew the younger, was Gentleman of the Bedchamber to George
II., when Prince of Wales, and was somewhat of a playwright, like his
father. He wrote a piece called 'Chit-Chat' (in which, by the way, the
mercurial Colley Cibber played the principal part--'Alamode, a fop').
It was produced at Drury Lane shortly before the author's death, an
event which took place at Kensington, in July, 1719. This play is said
to have been very successful--was one of 'the four taking plays of the
season'--and on its production the Prince made Killigrew a present of
100 guineas, to which the Princess added another fifty. As far as I can
make out--though the matter is involved in great obscurity--the lady to
whom reference has already been made as the possessor of the elder Tom
Killigrew's portrait, and as dying, the last of her name, in 1819, must
have descended from this branch of the family.

Robert, brother of the foregoing Thomas the younger, was a soldier.
'Militavit annos 24' is recorded on his monument in the north aisle
of the nave of Westminster Abbey;[86] and he had risen to the rank of
Major-General, when he fell on the plains of Almanza, near Chinchilla,
on 25th April, 1707, being then forty-seven years old. This battle was
fought, during the Spanish war of succession, between the Spanish and
French, commanded by the Duke of Berwick (a natural son of James II.),
and the allied English and Dutch forces under the incompetent General
Ruvigny, Earl of Galway; on which occasion the latter were defeated;
the fate of Spain was decided; and the Bourbon line was practically
restored to the Spanish throne, in the person of Philip V.

Galway--

  'Deep versed in books, but shallow in himself'

(a red-tapeist general, who fought always according to rule),--'drew up
his troops agreeably to the manner prescribed by the best writers, and,
in a few hours, lost 18,000 men, 120 standards, all his baggage, and
all his artillery.' 'Do you remember, child,' says the foolish woman
in the _Spectator_ to her husband, 'that the pigeon-house fell the
very afternoon that our careless wench spilt the salt upon the table?'
'Yes, my dear,' replies the gentleman, 'and the next post brought us an
account of the battle of Almanza.'[87]

This battle is further remarkable as having been the first occasion
on which the Union Jack was used as the British Ensign; and from its
being almost the first time when British troops used the bayonet; it is
also noteworthy, because at Almanza English and Dutch troops, commanded
by a Frenchman, were defeated by French and Spaniards, commanded by a
British General. The battle was fought on a plain about a mile in front
of the town; and, I believe, an obelisk still marks the site.

Colonel Townshend Wilson, in his 'Memoir of the Duke of Berwick'
(1883), gives a vivid description of the stubbornly contested three
hours' conflict--in which 'never did Briton and Dutch face the foe
more steadily.' They were however out-numbered and out-generalled--and
on this day the old Das Minas might have been seen, accompanied by a
young lady, his mistress, in a gay riding-habit, cantering to and fro
among the allied troops under fire; but an unmannerly shot emptied her
saddle. The end of the battle is thus described:

  'From stern resistance the cosmopolitan infantry suddenly changed
  to brilliant attack. With a tremendous effort they beat down all
  opponents. Two battalions, irresistible in might, trampled down the
  enemy's double line, pressed even to the walls of Almansa. Superb
  audacity in front of well-led soldiers is sometimes foolishness.
  Don José de Amezaga, with two squadrons, charging the enemy, blown
  and in disarray, cut them to pieces.... Then the wondrous English
  and Huguenot foot, quite _en l'air_, deprived of support, most of
  their superior officers laid low, thought of retreat. The manoeuvre
  was impracticable. Hundreds of men were trampled under the hoofs of
  exulting cavaliers. Six battalions, crushed into a crowd, had to lay
  down their arms. But thirteen battalions (five of which were English),
  holding grimly together, under Count Dhona, and Major-General
  Shrimpton of the Guards, retired in fine order to a hill about a
  league from the field.'

Being, however, without provisions, these gallant fellows were
compelled on the following day to surrender to their antagonists.
The Spanish loss was 2,000; that of the Allies double that number,
and eighty-eight British officers, including Brigadier Killigrew and
Colonels Dormer and Roper, were amongst the slain.

Among Brigadier Robert's small effects were twenty-two pistoles, a
bay horse, a pair of gold buttons, and his watch and seal--as appears
from some family letters preserved among the 'Additional MSS.' in the
British Museum. He seems to have found life a 'fitful fever,' for in
his very last letter to his brother--as 'T. K.' has endorsed it--he
says that he is 'verre wery of sarvin in this Hott Contre.' But he was
a courageous soldier; for his nephew, Major Henry Killigrew, of the
Irish Carabineers, who seems to have also been present at the battle,
writes that 'no man there gave up his life with greater bravery' than
his uncle did. General Robert Killigrew, in fact, appears to have
deserved the place which he attained amongst the Worthies of England at
Westminster.

Charles, the third brother, was born in 1650, and was buried in the
Savoy in 1725. He succeeded his father in the post of Master of the
Revels[88] in 1680, with a fee of £10 per annum; and he was made a
Commissioner of Prizes in 1707. J. T. Smith tells us that he used to
license, 'in black and red print,' all ballad-singers, mountebanks,
rope-dancers, prize-players, 'and such as make shew of motions and
strange sights.' He also succeeded to the ownership of the play-house
in Drury Lane; and is said to have done much to correct the profaneness
of the stage.

Amongst the Lord Chamberlain's Records of the Reign of Charles II.
is a volume marked 'Players Booke,' which contains many curious
entries, such as regulations against persons forcing their way into
the theatre without payment at the beginning of the last acts of the
piece. No actor to leave the theatre without giving three months'
warning. No visitor to come between the scenes, or sit or stand upon
the stage during the time of acting. It also appears that certain of
the actors had entered into a bond of £500 with Charles Killigrew for
the theatrical properties, and a regulation was made that thenceforth
none of the actors or actresses should 'presume to go out of the House
in theire acting Clothes.' The well known Mohun, who was one of the
parties to this bond, had served as Major of a regiment in Flanders.

But Harry, who seems to have been a son of Tom the elder, by his first
wife Cecilia Crofts, took most after his father. He was Groom of the
Chamber to James II., when Duke of York; and was the scapegrace of the
family. Pepys was more than once shocked at his conduct, and speaks
of him as a 'rogue newly come out of France.' Before he did this he
had earned a bad character abroad; for on 21st July, 1660, the Prince
Palatine wrote of a duel which Master Harry fought at Heidelberg, and
adds, 'He will never leave his lying as long as his tongue can wagg.'
There were ugly suspicions of his having, in a drunken fit, stabbed his
own servant; and of his having committed other outrageous misdeeds. In
1666 he was banished from the Court, 'for raw words spoken against a
lady of pleasure.' Yet he seems to have contrived to find his way back
again; for in 1667 occurred the memorable squabble between him and
Buckingham, which Pepys thus relates, and to which Charles II. also
referred in a letter to Prince Rupert:

'Creed tells me of the fray between the Duke of Buckingham at the
Duke's play-house the last Saturday (and it is the first day I have
heard that they have acted at either the King's or Duke's houses this
month or six weeks), and Henry Killigrew, whom the Duke of Buckingham
did soundly beat and take away his sword, and make a fool of, till the
fellow prayed him to spare his life; & I am glad of it, for it seems in
this business the Duke of Buckingham did carry himself very innocently
& well, & I wish he had paid this fellow's coat well.'

The quarrel seems to have originated in some insulting words used by
Harry Killigrew towards the Duke from an adjoining box, and to these
the Duke replied in like fashion; whereupon a quarrel ensued, which
ended in a challenge from Killigrew. This the Duke refused to accept,
and a personal encounter was the consequence--the two combatants
chasing each other round the house, to the great annoyance of the rest
of the audience, as may be supposed. Killigrew seems to have lost his
character as a man of courage--whilst the Duke lost--his wig! as well
as his temper. I have not been able to discover what became afterwards
of this 'ne'er-do-weel,' except that in 1698 he contrived to get a free
grant of £200 from the Treasury. He married Lady Mary Savage, had two
sons (Henry and James), and was buried on 16th December, 1705, at St.
Martin's-in-the-Fields.

We have thus completed, so far as seemed desirable, our sketches of all
the sons and grandsons of Sir Robert Killigrew of Hanworth, except that
of his fifth son, Henry; to him and to his career and progeny we now
turn. He was born at Hanworth the year after his brother Tom, viz. in
1612; and was at first educated, as Wood tells us, by that celebrated
schoolmaster, Farnaby, at St. Giles's, Cripplegate. Thence he went
to Christ Church, Oxford, when sixteen years of age, and at that
University obtained his degrees of M.A. in 1638, and D.D. four years
afterwards. Of his Latinity when at college, the following example,
amongst others, has been preserved:--

 [Greek: PROTELEIA].

  ANGLO-BATAVA.

    'Lævis adhuc, nec dum Vir constituende Marite;
      Tuque Uxor Virgo, Virgo futura diu;
    Tam Castos Dilatus Hymen colit ipse Pudores,
      Nec tantum Coelis Pinus Adulta placet.
    Ne jactet plures Amor hoc ex Foedere Tædas,
      Et ludat Ritus, Pronuba Diva, Tuos
    Præcipitata celer diffundat Tempora Currus,
      Hanc Matrem facias, Hunc citò, Juno, Virum.

    'Hic Fratri Lucem, dedit hic Tibi, Sponsa, Maritum,
      O Quantum Mensis Munus Utrumq; juvat!
    Quære Mihi Niveos, Puer Officiose, Lapillos
      Ut Gemmâ Festum Candidiore notem.
    Si tamen has vincant magè Lactea corpora gemmas,
      Pulchrior Ipse Suum Signet, et Ipsa Diem.'

He, too, received a Court appointment, and was Preceptor to James II.
and a Chaplain to the King's Army and to the Duke of York. In 1660, he
was made Prebendary of the Twelfth Stall at Westminster, and about the
same time Rector of Wheathampsted, where are some of the family tombs.
But it was not until 1667, when he was between fifty and sixty years
of age, that he obtained the post in connexion with which his name is
most generally known-that of 'Master of the Savoy and Almoner to His
Royal Highness.'

Whilst still a youngster of seventeen, he wrote a tragedy which he
called 'The Conspiracy,' intended for performance at the celebration of
the 'Nuptialls of the Lord Charles Herbert and the Lady Villers.' It
was played at the Blackfriars Theatre in 1638, and was received with
great applause--obtaining high praise from 'rare Ben Jonson' himself.
One critic, indeed, objected that the sentiments expressed by the hero
of the piece, Cleander, were far beyond his age--seventeen--until he
was reminded that that was the age of the author himself. Here is a
specimen of the youthful writer's powers:

  '(_The Rightful Heir to the Crown kept from his inheritance: an angel
  sings to him sleeping._)

                'SONG.

    'While Morpheus thus does gently lay
      His powerful charge upon each part,
    Making thy spirits ev'n obey
      The silver charms of his dull art;

    'I, thy Good Angel, from thy side--
      As smoke doth from the altar rise,
    Making no noise as it doth glide,--
      Will leave thee in this soft surprise;

    'And from the clouds will fetch thee down
      A holy vision, to express
    Thy right unto an earthly crown;
      No power can make this kingdom less.

    'But gently, gently, lest I bring
      A start in sleep by sudden flight,
    Playing aloof, and hovering,
      Till I am lost unto the sight.

    'This is a motion still and soft,
      So free from noise and cry
    That Jove himself, who hears a thought,
      Knows not when we pass by.'

The play appears to have been printed without the writer's consent,
in 1638, in an imperfect form; but it was not until fifteen years
afterwards that he published an amended copy of it under the title of
'Pallantus and Eudora.' He also wrote another play, 'The Tyrant King of
Crete,' which was never acted. Many of his sermons too were printed;
one of them, Pepys--who seems to have gone almost everywhere, and heard
almost everything--listened to in 1663: 'At Chapel I had room in the
Privy Seale pewe with other gentlemen;' but he has left no record of
the impression produced. Probably, therefore, it was not very deep or
lasting; and, in fact, the sermons have no special excellence: yet
there is something true and pathetic in this saying: 'Misery lays
stronger bonds of love than Nature; and they are more than one, whom
the same _misfortune_ joined together, than to whom the same womb gave
life.'

The Rev. W. J. Loftie, in his 'History of the Savoy,' tells us that
Henry Killigrew succeeded Sheldon as Master, and that he was no more
careful and economic in the management of the decaying establishment
than was his predecessor; yet King William III.'s Commissioners tell a
somewhat different story, and describe him as 'a man of generous and
public spirit, as his expenses in the Chapel of the said Hospital, and
of King Henry VII. at Westminster, who was the founder of the said
Hospital, do sufficiently testify.'

In the Savoy itself Henry Killigrew lived, paying £1 a year for his
lodgings. No pleasant neighbourhood was that 'Sanctuary'[89] which
Macaulay thus describes:

  'The Savoy was another place of the same kind as Whitefriars; smaller
  indeed, and less renowned, but inhabited by a not less lawless
  population. An unfortunate tailor, who ventured to go thither for the
  purpose of demanding payment for a debt, was set upon by the whole
  mob of cheats, ruffians, and courtezans. He offered to give a full
  discharge to his debtor, and a treat to the rabble, but in vain.
  He had violated their "franchises," and this crime was not to be
  pardoned. He was knocked down, stripped, tarred, and feathered. A rope
  was tied round his waist. He was dragged naked up and down the street
  amidst yells of "A bailiff! a bailiff!" Finally he was compelled to
  kneel down, and curse his father and mother--and then "to limp home
  without a rag upon him."'

The Master of the Savoy married twice, it is said; but I have failed
to trace the maiden name of either of his wives. It would have been
interesting to know who the first was, especially; for she was the
mother of the fairest and brightest of all the Killigrews--Mistress
Anne. The second wife continued to live in the Savoy after her
husband's death, which took place the 14th March, 1699.

He had two sons and two daughters. The sons, both of whom were
sailors, were Henry and James; and the daughters, Elizabeth and the
incomparable ANNE. Clutterbuck, in his 'History of Hertfordshire,'
says that Elizabeth married Dr. J. Lambe, Dean of Ely, who succeeded
to the Rectory of Wheathampstead; and that they had five sons and five
daughters. Her epitaph records that she was 'a most intirely beloved
wife,' and that 'to mencon some of her virtues only (though very
great ones) would lessen her character, who was a most eminent example
of all those virtues whatsoever that adorn her sex.'

Henry, the elder son, appears to have been, on the whole, a successful
man in his profession; he entered the navy in 1666, and for the next
twenty years sailed in almost as many different ships; he was made
Vice-Admiral of the Blue in 1689, and finally was created a Lord of
the Admiralty under King William III. He died at his seat at St.
Albans (for which place he had been elected M.P.) on the 9th November,
1712, eighteen years after his retirement from the Admiralty. Many MS.
letters by him are in the Bodleian Library, and at All Souls' College,
Oxford. In the British Museum is preserved a broadside entitled--

  'GOOD NEWS FROM THE ENGLISH FLEET:

  being an Account of a great and bloody Engagement which happened
  yesterday between Their Majesties' Fleet commanded by Admiral
  Killigrew, and the French Fleet near the Beachy--with a particular
  account of the Taking Six of their Ships, and Sinking Three.'

It was printed 17th September, 1690; on which date the final result was
not known, but enough had been learnt to describe the engagement as a
victory; the battle was fought three leagues off the shore, and lasted
from 10 a.m. till night.

Macaulay does not refer to this exploit; but, writing of the year 1693,
he tells us that 'Killigrew and Delaval _were Tories_, and that the
Whigs carried a vote of censure upon the Government in consequence
of the late naval miscarriages, but failed to fix it on Killigrew
and Delaval themselves, the Admirals.' The facts seem to have been
that Killigrew and Delaval were appointed to convoy seventy ships
of the line and thirty smaller vessels--the richly-freighted Smyrna
fleet--past Brest to the Mediterranean; Rooke was to take them on
afterwards. But the French fleet lay in wait for them near Gibraltar,
and Rooke fell into the trap, with dire results. Macaulay thinks that
Killigrew and Delaval ought to have been sharper, and not to have
returned to England so soon. On hearing of the news in England, many
of the merchants went away from the Royal Exchange 'pale as death.'
There is, however, in the British Museum a rare ballad which somewhat
conflicts with Macaulay's views, and I am tempted to refer to it,
without being able to reconcile the discrepancy. It is entitled--

  'The Seamen's Victory, or _Admiral Killigrew's_ glorious conquest over
  the French Fleet, in the Streights, as they were coming from Thoulon
  towards Brest. With the manner of Taking Three of their French Men of
  War, and sinking Two more; although the French Admiral vainly boasted
  he would recover Brest or Paradice, yet he shamefully run from the
  English Fleet. (_To the Tune of The Spinning Wheel._)'

The ballad is illustrated with rough wood-cuts, three of which
represent ships, and a fourth, it is to be presumed, the Admiral
himself. It begins thus:

    'Here's joyfull news came late from Sea,
    'Tis of a gallant Victory,
    Which o'er the French we did obtain,
    Upon the throbbing Ocean Main.
    As soon as e'er they found our Rage,
    The Rogues was glad to disengage.'

The defeat of the attempt made by the Toulon fleet to join that at
Brest is then described, in the same rude sort of lines eminently
adapted for the roystering choristers who frequent seaside taverns; and
the poet thus continues:

    'Now while we did maintain the Fight,
    Two French Ships there we sunk down right,
    And likewise have we taken Three,
    This Crown'd our Work with Victory;
    The noble, valiant KILLEGREW,
    After the rest do's still pursue.'

And the ballad concludes with the hope--

    'That we hereafter may advance
    To shake the very Crown of France.'

Possibly it refers to an episode of the fight which may have escaped
the notice of the illustrious historian. This much, however, is
certain, that the exploits of the British Admiral were caricatured in a
street play, probably got up for political purposes.

Admiral Killigrew has been described in the following terms by one G.
Wood, his clerk, who sailed with him to the Mediterranean:

  'A young man in the flower of his age but a man of great experience
  and to add to his experience he's a man of undaunted Courage Prudence
  and Conduct, making it his study in all his actions to doe nothing
  (though never so much to his own advantage) but that which is truely
  honorable and altogeither tending to the honor and advantage of his
  King and Country. Hee likewise carry'd his comand w^{th} so much
  gravity and wisdome that he was both belov'd and fear'd by all y^e
  squad^n from y^e highest to y^e lowest; and for his Prudence and
  Dilligence in managing of his Ma^{tie's} affairs.... I might inlarge
  much more and speak nothing but truth of this hono^{ble} comand^s yett
  fear I should be look't upon as a flatterer by those y^t knows him
  not.'

Whilst serving in the Mediterranean, in chase of a _Salletine_ frigate,
he was severely wounded by the bursting of a gun in his own ship,
the splinters breaking both bones of his right leg, and frightfully
wounding his head.

I have been unable to ascertain whom Admiral Henry married; but he
had a son who bore the same name as himself, and who settled at St.
Julian's in Hertfordshire. I think it must have been he who was a
Major in Lord Strafford's Royal Regiment of Dragoons, the composition
of which corps and the pay of its members are set forth in the Add^l.
MSS. 22,231 in the British Museum. It would, however, be uninteresting
to trace farther the descent of this branch of the family.

James, the younger brother, when only twenty-one years of age,
and unmarried, was killed in a sea engagement off Leghorn, in
January 1694/5, on board the _Plymouth_; like Nelson, 'in the arms
of victory.'[90] His ship was a fast sailer, and outstripped her
companions, so that when Captain James Killigrew came up with the
French he had to engage two ships at once, both bigger than his own,
one of which, however, he sunk, and the other he took. He sustained
the unequal combat, it is said, for four hours. Besides losing his
own life, fifty of his men were killed and wounded when the remainder
of the British ships at length came up to his assistance. 'Characters
like his need no encomium,' observes Charnock. Some accounts attribute
cowardice to his comrades on this occasion.


We have now nearly completed our task, and have come to the last of the
Killigrews whose history is likely to be entertaining, or instructive.
ANNE,

  'quæ stabat ubique victrix forma, ingenio, religione,'

as her epitaph (now destroyed) in the chancel of St. John the Baptist,
in the Savoy Chapel, once described her;[91] and most gratifying it is
to close our account of the Killigrews with the story of this admirable
woman.

She was born in 1660, in St. Martin's Lane; and, the Restoration
not having then been effected, was (according to Cibber's 'Lives
of the Poets') christened in a private chamber, the offices of the
Common Prayer-book not being at that time publicly allowed. Early
distinguished for her skill in poetry and in painting, and for her
learning, taste, and purity of life, for her fame she is not indebted
to that which alone would have been sufficient to perpetuate it--I mean
Dryden's renowned ode. This, exaggerated as its terms may appear, is
nevertheless said, by those who knew her, to be hardly too strongly
expressed. Even the ascetic Anthony Wood wrote of her the well-known
line,

  'A Grace for beauty, and a Muse for wit;'

and he assures us that 'there is nothing spoken of her which she
was not equal to, if not superior.' That she was an accomplished
artist Dryden's verse records, and that this was a talent possessed
by at least one of her ancestors we have seen in the account of Sir
Henry Killigrew, the diplomatist; but I am not aware that any of her
paintings remain to us; but Walpole saw her portrait by herself,
and thought more highly of her painting than of her poetry. The
portrait has been admirably engraved in mezzotint by Becket and by
Blooteling. She painted James II. and his Queen, as well as several
'history-pieces,' landscapes, and still-life subjects, which Dryden
mentions in the poem that Dr. Johnson pronounced 'the noblest ode that
our language has produced.' I am aware that Warton somewhat differs
from the great critic as to this; but it would be difficult to point to
a finer English threnody; and, notwithstanding the probability of its
being familiar, if not to all, yet to most of my readers, I venture to
think that the reproduction here of such parts as particularly refer to
Anne Killigrew may not be unacceptable. The noble strain thus opens:

    'Thou youngest virgin daughter of the skies,
    Made in the last promotion of the blest:
    Whose palms, new plucked from Paradise,
    In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
    Rich with immortal green, above the rest;
    Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,
    Thou roll'st above us in thy wandering race;
        Or, in procession fixed and regular,
        Mov'st with the heaven's majestic pace;
        Or, call'd to more superior bliss,
    Thou tread'st, with seraphims, the vast abyss:--
    Whatever happy region is thy place,
    Cease thy celestial song a little space;
    Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine,
    Since heaven's eternal year is thine.
    Hear then a mortal muse thy praise rehearse,
        In no ignoble verse,[92]
    But such as thy own voice did practise here,
    When thy first fruits of poesy were given,
    To make thyself a welcome inmate there;
        While yet a young probationer
        And candidate of heaven.'

Exaggerated language perhaps, but sincerely meant. And the master of
the 'long-resounding line' concludes:

    'When in mid-air the golden trump shall sound,
    To raise the nations under ground;
    When in the Valley of Jehoshaphat,
    The judging God shall close the book of fate,
    And there the last assizes keep
    For those who wake, and those who sleep;--
    When rattling bones together fly
    From the four corners of the sky;
    When sinews o'er the skeletons are spread,
    Those clothed with life, and life inspires the dead;
    The sacred Poets first shall hear the sound,
    And foremost from the tomb shall bound,
    For they are covered with the lightest ground;
    And straight, with inborn vigour, on the wing,
    Like mounting larks, to the new morning sing.
    There thou, sweet Saint! before the choir shalt go,
    As harbinger of heaven, the way to show,
    The way which thou so well hadst learnt below.'

The allusion to the grief of her brother Henry, the Admiral, then at
sea, is very fine:

    'Meantime her warlike brother on the seas,
    His waving streamers to the wind displays,
    And vows, for his return, with fond devotion pays.
    Ah, generous youth! that wish forbear,--
    The winds too soon will waft thee here!
    Slack all thy sails! and fear to come;--
    Alas! thou know'st not--_thou art wrecked at home_.'

Her skill as a painter he depicts in the following happy lines:

    'Her pencil drew whate'er her soul designed,
    And oft the happy draught surpass'd the image in her mind.
        The sylvan scenes of herds and flocks,
        The fruitful plains, and barren rocks;
        Of shallow brooks that flowed so clear
        The bottom did the top appear:
        Of deeper, too, and ampler floods,
        Which, as in mirrors, showed the woods:
        Of lofty trees with sacred shades,
        And perspectives of pleasant glades,
        Where nymphs of brightest form appear,
        And shaggy satyrs standing near,
        Which them at once admire and fear.
    The ruins, too, of some majestic piece
    Boasting the power of ancient Rome or Greece;
    Whose statues, friezes, columns, broken lie,
    And, though defaced, the wonder of the eye;
    What Nature, Art, bold Fiction e'er durst frame,
    Her forming hand gave feature to the name.'

Dryden then alludes to her portraits of the royal family--and first of
the King:

    'For, not content to express his outward part,
    Her hand called out the image of his heart.'

Of his Consort's likeness the poet gracefully observes:

    'Our phoenix Queen was pourtrayed, too, so bright,
    Beauty alone could beauty take so right.'

And, with a grand hyperbole, the poem ends with the above prediction
that at the last day the Poets shall first awake at the sound in
mid-air of the golden trump:

  'For they are covered with the lightest ground.'

Mistress Anne Killigrew, as the virgin poetess and paintress was
called, after the fashion of the time, was, like so many others of
her family, attached to the Court. She was Maid of Honour to the
Duchess of York; and, even in those loose days, was unspotted by the
contaminating influences amongst which she found herself. One other
taint, however, she did not escape--the contagion of small-pox, of
which horrible malady this 'cynosure' died at her father's prebendal
house in the Cloister of Westminster Abbey, on the 16th June, 1685, in
the twenty-fifth year of her age.[93]

To her 'Poems,' now a rare book--a thin quarto, which appeared shortly
after her death--are prefixed Dryden's ode, and the mezzotint by
Becket, after her portrait of herself. Sir Peter Lely also painted her
likeness.

It has already been said that none of her paintings remain; but of her
poetical powers we may still judge from the following extracts. They
will, of course, fall somewhat flat after the lofty lines which have
just been cited; yet I venture to think that they will be found worthy
of perusal. At any rate, Dryden writes,

    'Thy father was transfused into thy blood,
    So wert thou born into a tuneful strain;'

and they were at least considered at the time sufficiently good for the
insinuation that they were not her own--a calumny to which the gentle
Anne replied:

'UPON THE SAYING THAT MY VERSES WERE MADE BY ANOTHER.

     *      *      *      *      *      *

    'Th' envious Age, only to Me alone,
    Will not allow, what I do write, my Own,
    But let 'em rage, and 'gainst a Maide Conspire,
    So Deathless Numbers from my Tuneful Lyre
    Do ever flow; so Phebus I by thee
    Divinely Inspired and possest may be;
    I willingly accept Cassandra's Fate,
    To speak the Truth, although believ'd too late.'

The following lines also are, I venture to think, far from commonplace:

'AN ODE.

    'Arise, my Dove, from midst of Pots arise,
        Thy sully'd Habitation leave,
          To Dust no longer cleave;
    Unworthy they of Heaven that will not view the Skies.
        Thy native Beauty reassume,
          Prune each neglected Plume
          Till, more than Silver white,
          Than burnisht Gold more bright,
    Thus ever ready stand to take thy Eternal Flight.'

Notwithstanding her modesty, she was not without some confidence that
her poetry would survive her, as it has, in fact, already done for two
centuries; for thus she wrote her own epitaph:

    'When I am Dead, few friends attend my Hearse;
    And for a Monument I leave my _Verse_;'

a monument, perhaps, _ære perennium_, and which certainly remains
longer than the marble cenotaph which was destroyed by the fire in the
Savoy.[94]

Epitaphs, indeed, seem to have had a charm for her, as if she had a
foreboding of her early death; and the following lines in praise of
Mrs. Phillips may serve for a fair description of herself, and as a
finish to these extracts from her compositions:

    'Orinda (Albion's and her sex's grace)
    Owed not her glory to a beauteous face,
    It was her radiant _soul_ that shone within;
    Which struck a lustre through her outward skin;
    That did her lips and cheeks with roses dye,
    Advanced her height, and sparkled in her eye.
    Nor did her sex at all obstruct her fame,
    But higher 'mong the stars it fixed her name;
    What she did write, not only all allowed,
    But every laurel to her laurel bowed.'

Perhaps too much has been said of the virtues and graces of this chaste
and accomplished lady; but it must be remembered that women such as
she were rare in the days in which she lived and wrote. Nor must we
forget that we are far removed from the sphere of that _personal_
influence, the attractions of which are so powerful, and which probably
contributed in no small degree to the fame of this fair scion of the
Killigrews.

It was written on her epitaph, according to Ballard:

    'Abi, Viator, et plange,
    Si eam plangi oporteat
    Cui, tam pié morienti,
    Vel Coelites plauserint.'

Even at this distance of time, it is delightful to think that she left
a wicked world and age before a single spot had dimmed the lustre of
her widely admired, but unsullied, fame:

  'Wearing the white flower of a blameless life.'

FOOTNOTES:

[51] This monument was originally placed on a site which overlooked on
the one hand the remains of the family mansion, and on the other the
little lake--formerly an arm of the sea, and known in Leland's time
as 'Levine Prisklo,'--which was once the well-filled swannery of the
Killigrews. It was moved in 1836 to make way for the houses now known
as 'Grove Place;' and again in 1871, to its present appropriate site
opposite the Arwenack Manor-office.

[52] The town arms of Falmouth, modified of course, are derived from
those of Killigrew. The arms of the _Devonshire_ Killigrews are gules,
three mascles on. This latter coat appears on some woodwork in St.
Budock Church, and on the brass of Thomas Killigrew, to which reference
will presently be made.

[53] I am somewhat inclined to think that this _may_ be the Thomas
Killigrew who died at Biscay, in Aragon. He married twice--Johanna
Herry and Jane Darrell; possibly there may be some mistake in the
Christian name of the latter lady. Perhaps the same Thomas who is
mentioned in the Journals of Roger Machado, of an embassy to Spain and
Portugal, in 1488, as having entertained the traveller, whom stress of
weather drove into Falmouth harbour; and as having bequeathed, in the
year 1500, one hundred marks for the rebuilding of St. Budock Church.
In the autumn of 1882, whilst restoring St. Gluvias Church, the workmen
came upon some leaden coffins in good preservation, which were supposed
to contain the remains of members of the Killigrew family. The coffins
were not opened.

[54] Since doing this I have had the advantage of consulting Colonel J.
L. Vivian's elaborate pedigree in his recent annotated edition of the
'Herald's Visitations to the County of Cornwall.'

[55] This lady seems to have been the real heroine of an exploit
accredited by Hals to Dame Jane Killigrew, one of her successors (_see
post_). Mr. H. Michell Whitley has drawn attention to Hals's mistake,
or confusion, in the _Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall_,
1883. But in those high-handed days there may have been more than
one culprit, and more than one misdemeanour--and Hals is curiously
circumstantial.

[56] Cf. Mr. Howard Fox's article on the 'Lizard Lighthouses,' _Journal
of the Royal Institution of Cornwall_, No. XXII., March, 1880, p. 319.
Sir William Killigrew vainly endeavoured to obtain a renewal of the
patent in 1631.

[57] Dame Mary Killigrew seems to have been the true heroine of this
story. _See ante._

[58] The cup is figured in the _Journal of the Royal Institution of
Cornwall_.

[59] Arwenack is so shown on a chart preserved in the British Museum,
and engraved by Lysons in his 'Mag. Brit.' (Cornwall). St. Mawes
Castle is shown as half built, Pendennis not yet commenced, and two
other works--one at Gillyngvase Bay, the other at Trefusis Point--as
_contemplated_. There is another and still finer coloured map, with
Lord Burghley's handwriting on it, in the National Collection.

[60] The _negotiations_ for the surrender of Raglan were begun before
those for Pendennis. Cf. the Chapter on the Arundells.

[61] Sir Peter measured out the ground for the church, churchyard, and
minister's house, on 29th August, 1662. The first sermon was preached
in the church on 21st February, 1663, by Mr. John Bedford, of Gerrans,
from Genesis xxiii. 20, 'And the field, and the cave that is therein,
were made sure unto Abraham for a possession of a buryingplace by the
sons of Heth.'

[62] One of the most scathing letters of reproach ever written was
addressed by this lady to Rev. Mr. Quarme, the Incumbent of Falmouth,
for his ingratitude after Sir Peter's decease. It is preserved amongst
the archives in the manor-office at Arwenack.

[63] Probably a descendant of that Erissey whose nimble dancing
delighted James I. so much that he inquired what was his name. The King
admired the gentleman, but 'liked not his name,' to which some one had
possibly prefixed the letter 'h' in pronouncing it. Some remains of the
ancient mansion of this old Cornish family are still to be seen on the
estate of that name in the parish of Ruan Major: the dates on an old
doorway and on some lofty gate-posts are, respectively, 1603 and 1671.

[64] It was this Sir Peter who, finding that, in 1689, Pendennis Castle
required some repairs, visited the Collector of Customs at Penryn, at
ten o'clock at night, and carried off the Collector and the money (some
£200 odd), 'for the good of the King's castle.'

[65] Both their daughters, Frances and Mary, took the name of
Killigrew; the former married the Hon. Charles Berkeley, the latter
John Merrill, Esq.; but from both marriages there was female issue only.

[66] The young gentleman is apparently Mr. Merrill, subsequently the
husband of the Colonel's eldest daughter.

[67] When this letter was written the price of tea was--Bohea, 12s. to
14s.; Pekoe, 18s.; and Hyson, 35s. per lb.

[68] To a copy of a MS. history of the family, written by him in
1737-38, I have been indebted for some interesting particulars.

[69] The statement in _Notes and Queries_ is on the authority of Mr.
William Killigrew Wait, who still, I believe, lives in or near Bristol.

[70] He was taken prisoner at Rouen, in Nov. 1562, and, according to
Wright's 'Queen Elizabeth and her Times,' was to be 'redeemed for
young Pegrillion.' And here it maybe conveniently observed that this
work contains Killigrew's letters to Burghley on the state of Scotch
affairs--perhaps the most important business which he had to manage in
the course of his diplomatic career.

[71] Thus summarized by F. S. Thomas in his 'Historical Notes,' and by
other authorities: Ambassador to Scotland, 1566; negotiating in 1569
for fresh ports to be opened in the Baltic; to France, when Walsingham
was sick, 1571; Scotland again, 1572, to negotiate for the surrender of
Edinburgh Castle; again, 1573; and at Berwick, 1574; in London, 1575,
and back to Scotland the same year; in the Low Countries in 1586; and
to France with the Earl of Essex, to assist the King of France, in 1591.

[72] Murdin.

[73] According to Froude, there was a Killigrew of Pendennis, who was
one of the 500 forlorn hope who cut their way through Guise's lines
at Rouen, in October, 1562. On the capture of that place, and after
the garrison had been cut down almost to the last man, he was taken,
half-dead, but eventually recovered. I cannot help thinking this must
be the same Killigrew.

[74] As Cyrus at Thermopylæ, Crassus in Parthia: therefore Alexander
had exact maps always about him to observe passages, streights, rocks,
plains, rivers, etc.

[75] Another sister, Anne, married Nicholas Bacon, Lord Chancellor, and
became the mother of Sir Anthony and of FRANCIS BACON--LORD VERULAM.

[76] When he was called upon in Parliament to profess his adherence
to 'The Good Cause,' as the Parliamentarians termed it, Sir Henry
bluntly and bravely declared, 'When I see occasion, I will provide a
good horse, a good buff coat, and a good pair of pistols: and then I
make no question but I shall find a "good cause."' Very shortly after
this speech he found it necessary for his safety to leave London for
Cornwall, with the results about to be described.

[77] Cf. the chapter on the Arundells for an account of the siege of
Pendennis.

[78] It will be seen, further on, that these two families intermarried
again; and that the house of Kimberley now represents that of Killigrew.

[79] The first edition, a little duodecimo, was published in 1684,
a third edition was published at Winchester (where, it will be
remembered, Charles sometimes kept his Court), on 7th Aug., 1686.

[80] 'Selindra,' 'Pandora,' and 'Ormasdes.' Printed in 1665, London,
8vo.

[81] A Thomas Killigrew, whom I cannot quite identify, was in the
Queen's Bench prison in 1642-43 on a suspicion of having raised arms
against the Parliament.

[82] Women did not appear on the stage until after the Restoration.

[83] About this time we find Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, interceding
with the Court on Thomas Killigrew's behalf, for a commission in
'Captaine Morgan's companie, who is dead.'

[84] On April 8th, 1663, at the New Theatre in Drury Lane, the prices
of admission were: boxes, 4s.; pit, 2s. 6d.; middle gallery, 1s. 6d.;
upper gallery, 1s. The play began at 3 p.m., the prices not so very
different from those at present, except that the pit seems to be
proportionately dearer. The company at first consisted, so Mr. Froude
says, of actors from the old 'Red Bull,' with additions from Rhodes's.
Nell Gwynne and Mrs. Knepp (Pepys' Knip) were amongst them. I am
indebted to my friend, Dr. G. Fielding Blandford, for the following
information as to the site of the building:--'Killigrew converted
Charles Gibbons' Tennis Court into a theatre in 1660. It was in Bear
Yard, Vere Street, Clare Market, and was opened 8th November, 1660,
with the play of "Henry IV." Pepys was there November 20th, and saw the
play of "Beggar's Bush," and, for the first time, Mohun (known as Major
Mohun), "said to be the best actor in the world." Here (January 3rd,
1661) he, for the first time, saw women on the stage. He calls it in
other places the New Theatre, and says "it is the finest playhouse, I
believe, that ever was in England." The names of the actors are given
in the rate-books of St. Clement Danes for 1663. This theatre is not
to be confounded (as it often is) with the one subsequently built in
Portugal Row, and known as the Duke's Theatre. This is now the site of
the Hunterian Museum. I believe the first theatre of that name only
existed a few years.'

[85] As regards the well-known story of his flippant tongue having
brought him into collision with Rochester--for which, according to
Pepys, Rochester never apologized--it may be observed that Rochester
_did_ apologize to Tom's son, Harry, before going to France (7th Report
Dep. Keeper of Records, p. 531_a_).

[86] 'It was considered remarkable as being cut out of one stone; and
it has been reckoned one of the best pieces of sculpture in the whole
church.'--(_Royal Magazine_, 1763, p. 22.)

[87] See Macaulay's review of Lord Mahon's 'War of the Succession.'

[88] The post of Master of the Revels was created in 1546, and, though
the salary was small, the office entitled the holder of it to a seat
in any part of the theatres. The seal of office, which was engraved on
wood, was in the possession of Francis Douce, Esq., F.S.A., in 1815.
Cf. 'Chalmer's Apology' (title-page), for the arms of the revels. Much
information as to this office will be found in Warton's 'History of
Poetry,' ii. 405, iii. 307, note; 'Archæologia,' xv. 225; 'British
Critic'; Brand's 'Popular Antiquities,' etc.

[89] It will be remembered that, before Chelsea Hospital was built,
Charles II. turned out many of the denizens of the Savoy to make room
for the soldiers and sailors wounded in the wars.

[90] He entered the navy on 5th Sept., 1688, and served successively
in the _Portsmouth_, the _Sapphire_, the _York_, the _Crown_, and the
_Plymouth_.

[91] Ballard says on the north side. Mr. Loftie tells us that it stood
on the eastern side of the chapel, not far from the vestry-door and
pulpit.

[92] A touching apology for much 'ignoble verse' of Dryden's own
majestic muse--

  'Licentious satire, song and play.'

Elsewhere in this ode he laments:

    'Oh wretched we! why were we hurried down
    This lubrique and adulterous age--
    Nay, added fat pollutions of our own!'

[93] Mr. Loftie says that the entry in the Savoy Register is dated 15th
April, 1685.

[94] Alexander Pendarves, M.P. for Launceston, and first husband of
Mary Granville (Mrs. Delaney); Wm. Vivian, 'son and heir of Michael
Vivian of Cornwall' (1520); and Richard Lander (the well-known
traveller), were other Cornish folk, to whom monuments were erected
in the Savoy. The tablets were all destroyed in the fire of 7th July,
1864; but, in the case of Lander, a stained-glass window has been
substituted for the destroyed monument.




_RICHARD LANDER_,

THE EXPLORER.




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_RICHARD LANDER_,

THE EXPLORER.

    'Les fleuves sont de grands chemins qui marchent.'--_Pascal._


The interest which was felt in a portrait of Henry Bone, R.A., which I
had the pleasure of presenting to the Royal Institution of Cornwall,
induced me to offer for the acceptance of that Society the portraits
of two other Truro worthies; which I thought (though the engravings
possess no great merit as works of art) might at least serve as
reminders of the energy, skill, and determination possessed by two
Truro men--half a century ago;[95] and, almost as a matter of course,
Richard Lander's name found a place among the Cornish Worthies, whose
stories I am attempting to write. I am just old enough to remember the
commencement, on the 16th June, 1835, of the erection of the column
designed by P. Sambell, jun., to the memory of Richard Lander, which
stands at the top of Lemon Street, and (owing to bad workmanship) the
fall of a considerable portion of it on the 21st of May, 1836. Amongst
other reminiscences I may perhaps also mention that my father has told
me that, on the occasion of laying the foundation-stone of the column,
he was one of those who formed the procession, and that he and the
late Mr. Humphry Willyams, of Carnanton, then led by the hand Richard
Lander's child. On that occasion, as on a more recent one of higher
importance at Truro, viz., the laying of the foundation-stone of the
new Cathedral, the Masonic ceremony was followed by a religious service.

Although generally spoken of as the Brothers Lander, it should be
borne in mind that to Richard, the elder brother, the world is mainly
indebted for the discovery of the course of the lower portion of 'the
lordly Niger' (as Longfellow calls the river). John, the younger
brother, had considerable powers of observation and some poetic
taste, and was by trade a printer. He accompanied Richard simply from
affectionate motives (and certainly without promise of any pecuniary
reward), on the _second_ of Richard's three expeditions to Africa, from
which the brothers returned safely; but John will appear no further
(except incidentally) in the remarks which I have to offer. He was born
in 1807, and died in 1839 in consequence of illness contracted during
his one voyage to Africa.

_Richard Lemon Lander_, the heroic but unfortunate traveller, whose
name will ever be associated with the splendid discovery of the course
and termination of that mysterious and fatal river, which some of the
ancients confounded with the Nile, and which the Moors of Northern
Africa still call 'the Nile of the Negroes,'[96] was the fourth of six
children, and was born at his father's house, the 'Dolphin Inn,' Truro
(then called 'The Fighting Cocks'), on the 8th February, 1804, the
day on which Colonel Lemon was elected M.P. for the town. Hence his
second name; and hence also a certain appropriateness in the site which
was chosen at the top of Lemon Street for his statue, the work of a
Cornish sculptor, the late N. N. Burnard. In the midst of his unfeigned
humility in his account of his parents, he nevertheless boasts that,
as his father's name began with a _Lan_ and his mother's maiden name
(Penrose) with a _Pen_, no one could deny his claim to being a right
_Cornishman_. But Colonel J. Lambrick Vivian informs me that Lander
came from an older and a better stock than he was himself aware of. The
family can be traced, in St. Just at least, as early as 1619, at which
time a Richard Lander married Thomasine Bosaverne, one of a good old
Cornish family. The Polwheles and Landers also intermarried. Richard's
grandfather, a noted wrestler, lived near the Land's End.

Of Lander's early life in Truro I can learn little further than that he
went to "old Pascoe's" school in Coomb's Lane, and was one of those few
favourites of his master, who was thought worthy to receive one of the
then newly-coined 1s. 6d. pieces. Richard seems to have been a merry,
bright-eyed lad, somewhat below the usual height,[97] but he was always
of a roving, adventurous spirit, and, when only eleven years old,
accompanied a merchant to the West Indies, whence, after a residence
there of three years, and having been attacked by fever in St. Domingo,
he returned to England in 1818, and lived as a servant in various
wealthy families, with some of whom he visited the continent of Europe.

In 1823 he went with Major Colebrook (one of the Royal Commissioners
of inquiry into the state of the British Colonies) to the Cape of Good
Hope, and returned to England in the following year. In 1825, when
Captain Clapperton and Major Denham returned from their travels in the
interior of Africa, Lander, charmed, as he says, by the very sound
of the word 'Africa,' and impelled by his inborn love of adventure,
offered to accompany the former officer in a second expedition to that
continent, notwithstanding the efforts of all his friends to dissuade
him. Amongst these may be mentioned Mr. George Croker Fox, who offered
Lander, by way of a counter-temptation, a more lucrative post in South
America. However, Lander's proposal was gladly accepted by Clapperton,
and the adventurous youngster remained with his employer up to the hour
of the Captain's death at Soccatoo, in the interior, in April, 1827.
He then made his homeward-way, alone, by land to Badagry on the coast,
and arrived at Portsmouth with Clapperton's papers in April, 1828,
much debilitated by fevers contracted during his long sojourn in a
pestiferous climate.

In the December of the following year Richard Lander published a most
entertaining account of his travels, dating the first part of the
introduction to the book, 'Truro, Oct. 29th, 1829.' To this work is
prefixed his portrait, in his Eastern travelling costume.


Now comes his most important voyage of discovery. Having arranged,
under the auspices of the Government, a second expedition to West
Africa, not only with a view to commerce, but also in the hope of doing
something which should lead to the suppression of the slave-trade
and of human sacrifices, he embarked with his brother John in the
merchant-vessel _Alert_ at Portsmouth, on the 8th January, 1830.
He says the party went out 'with the fixed determination to risk
everything, even life itself, towards the final accomplishment of
their object. Confidence in ourselves and in the natives will be our
best panoply, and an English Testament our best fetish.' The Colonial
Secretary granted an allowance of £100 a year to Mrs. Richard Lander
during her husband's absence, and the traveller was himself to receive
a gratuity of £100 on his return to England. The little expedition
arrived at Cape Coast Castle on the 22nd February, 1830, and was
conveyed thence on board H.M.'s Brig _Clinker_ to Accra, where they
landed on the 22nd March. On the 17th June, after a toilsome and
dangerous journey overland, they reached Boussa on the West bank of the
Niger, the place where, it will be remembered, Mungo Park met with a
similar fate to that which was ultimately to befall Lander. Thence they
ascended the river to Yaoorie, a distance of about 100 miles; and this
place, the extreme point of the expedition, they reached on the 27th
June. On the 2nd August they returned to Boussa, where they embarked in
canoes in order to descend the stream--considering that such a method
must at last solve the mighty problem somehow--though of course in
utter uncertainty as to whither the stream might lead them.

As they proceeded, difficulties and dangers increased. At Kirree they
were plundered and cruelly ill-treated; and at Eboe they were made
prisoners by the Negro King, who demanded a large sum for their ransom,
which, after long delay, was procured. At length they reached the mouth
of the Nun branch of the Niger; and on the 1st December, 1830, they
were put on shore at Fernando Po; and ultimately, after first visiting
Rio Janeiro, they reached Portsmouth on the 9th June, 1831.

So triumphant a result naturally excited the public interest; and it
is stated that Murray, the eminent publisher, offered the Landers 1000
guineas for their papers; the offer was accepted, and the task of
blending the brothers' two journals into one, and of constructing a
map of their route, having been performed by Lieutenant Beecher, R.N.,
the work, in three volumes, was published in 1832 as No. 28 of the
Family Library, and has been translated into French, German, Dutch, and
Swedish. For his valuable discoveries Richard Lander received from the
Royal Geographical Society its first annual premium of fifty guineas,
presented by King William IV.

It may be interesting to note here the following description of the
scenery of the lower Niger, translated from a recent work by a Belgian
traveller--Adolphe Burdo:--

  'It is a grand and beautiful river, as it rolls majestically along,
  widening at every step, while its banks display all the splendours of
  the African flora. The birds have re-appeared, and enliven us with
  their songs or cries; in the distance the proud cocoa-nut palms lift
  their superb heads against the azure sky; the dwarf date-palms bathe
  their curious foliage in the waters; sitting motionless on the young
  green trunks the pale blue kingfishers keep watch for incautious fish
  or wandering flies; a thousand birds with variegated plumage, some
  yellow with a black necklace, others with gay crests, flutter joyously
  among the trees; great _bombax_ or cotton-trees sway to and fro, their
  thick foliage forming clusters; manchineels, whose red blossoms set
  off the verdure; and finally the bananas, whose large leaves reveal
  the existence of a negro village behind the screen which they form.'

Commerce with the rich interior of Africa now at length seemed
practicable; and accordingly, with this view, early in 1832 several
Liverpool merchants formed a company, and arranged a trading expedition
up the Niger, which was placed under the direction of Richard Lander.
This expedition consisted of two iron steam-vessels, the _Quorra_
('Shining River'), of 145 tons, and the _Alburka_ ('Blessing')
measuring only 55. They were accompanied as far as the Gulf of Guinea
by a brig laden with coals for the steamers, and a variety of articles
for presents or barter. The little squadron sailed from Milford Haven
on 25th July, 1832, and reached Cape Coast Castle on 7th October.
After innumerable mishaps, and fearful prostrations by illnesses
caused by the unhealthy climate, but having succeeded in tracing the
Niger (this time _upwards_) for a considerable portion of its course,
Lander returned for a short time to Fernando Po for further supplies of
cowries,[98] etc., leaving the steamers in charge of Surgeon Oldfield.

Having obtained what he required, he started on his return and final
voyage, of which the following is a summary.

Early in 1834 Lander left Fernando Po in the _Craven_ cutter with four
hundred pounds' worth of goods to rejoin the _Alburka_. On arriving
at the Nun mouth of the Niger he quitted the _Craven_, and with his
companions began ascending the river in two canoes of different sizes.
All the party were in excellent spirits. With them were two or three
negro musicians, who, when the labours of the day were over, cheered
their countrymen with their instruments, to the sound of which they
danced and sang in company, while the few Englishmen belonging to
the party amused themselves with angling on the banks of the stream;
thus, stemming a strong current by day, and resting from their toil
at night, Lander and his little band, totally unapprehensive of
danger, and unprepared to overcome or meet it, proceeded slowly up
the stream. At some distance from its mouth they met King Jacket,
a relation of King Boy, one of the heartless and sullen chiefs who
ruled over a large tract of the slimy, poisonous marshes which border
the Brass River. This personage was hailed by our travellers, and a
present of tobacco and rum was offered him: he accepted it with a
murmur of dissatisfaction, and his eyes sparkled with malignity as
he said in his own language: "White man will never reach Eboe this
time." This sentence was immediately interpreted to Lander by a native
of the country (a boy, who afterwards bled to death from a wound
in the knee); but Lander made light of the matter, and attributed
King Jacket's prophecy (for so it proved to be) to the petulance and
malice of his disposition. Soon, however, he discovered his error;
but too late to evade the danger which threatened him. On ascending
the river sixty or seventy miles further, the Englishman approached
an island near Ingiamma, near where the progress of the larger canoe
was effectually obstructed by the shallowness of the stream. Amongst
the trees and underwood which grew on this island, and on both banks
of the river in its vicinity, large ambuscades of the natives had
previously been formed, and shortly after the principal canoe had
grounded, its unfortunate crew, busily occupied in endeavouring to
get it into deeper water, were saluted with irregular but heavy and
continued discharges of musketry. So great was Lander's confidence in
the sincerity and goodwill of the natives that he could not at first
believe that the destructive fire by which he was literally surrounded
was anything more than a mode of salutation they had adopted in honour
of his arrival. But the Kroomen who had leaped into the boat, and who
fell wounded by his side, convinced him of his mistake, and plainly
discovered to him the fearful nature of the peril into which he had
fallen so unexpectedly, as well as the difficulty he would experience
in extricating himself from it. But, encouraging his comrades with
his voice and gestures, the traveller prepared to defend himself to
the last; and a loud and simultaneous shout from his little party
assured him that they shared his feelings, and would follow his
example. Meanwhile, several of the savages having come out from their
concealment, were brought down by the shots of the English; but Lander,
whilst stooping to pick up a cartridge from the bottom of the canoe,
was struck near the hip by a musket-ball. The shock made him stagger;
but he did not fall, and he continued cheering on his men. Soon,
however, finding his ammunition expended, himself seriously wounded,
the courage of his Kroomen beginning to droop, and the firing of his
assailants instead of diminishing become more general, he resolved to
attempt getting into the smaller canoe, afloat at a short distance,
as the only remaining chance of preserving a single life. For this
purpose, abandoning their property, the survivors threw themselves into
the stream, and with much difficulty (for the strength of the current
was enormous) most of them succeeded in accomplishing their object. No
sooner was this observed by the natives in ambush than they started
up and rushed out with loud and hideous yells; some Bonny, Brass, and
Benin canoes that had been hidden behind the luxuriant foliage which
overhung the river were, in an instant, pushed out into the middle of
the current, and pursued the fugitives with surprising velocity; while
numbers of savages, with wild antics and furious gesticulations, ran
and danced along the beach, uttering loud and startling cries. The
Kroomen maintained on this occasion the good reputation which their
countrymen have deservedly acquired: the lives of the whole party
depended on these men's energy and skill, and they impelled the slender
barque through the water with unrivalled swiftness.

The pursuit was kept up for four hours; and poor Lander, with only
wet ammunition, and with no defensive weapons whatever, was exposed
to the straggling fire, as well as the insulting mockery of his
pursuers. The fugitives, however, outstripped their pursuers, and when
they found the chase discontinued altogether, Lander stood up, _for
the last time_, in the canoe; and, being seconded by his remaining
associates, he waved his hat and gave a last cheer in sight of his
adversaries. He then became sick and faint from loss of blood, and sank
back exhausted in the arms of those who were nearest to him. Rallying
shortly afterwards, the nature of his wound was communicated to him by
Mr. Moore, a young surgeon from England, who had accompanied him up
the river, viz., that the ball could not be extracted; it had worked
its way into the left thigh, and Lander felt convinced that his career
would soon be terminated. When the state of excitement to which his
feelings had been wrought gave place to the languor which generally
succeeds powerful excitement of any kind, the invalid's wound pained
him exceedingly, and for several hours afterwards he endured, though
with calmness, the most intense sufferings. From that time he could
neither sit up nor turn on his couch; but while he was proceeding
down the river in a manner so melancholy, and so very different from
the mode in which he was ascending it only the day before, he could
not help indulging in mournful reflections: he talked much of his
wife, his child, his friends, his distant home, and his blighted
expectations. It was a period of darkness, distress, and sorrow to him;
but his natural cheerfulness soon regained its ascendency over his
mind, and, freely forgiving all his enemies, he resigned himself into
the hands of his Maker. At length, having succeeded in escaping down
the stream, Lander reached Fernando Po on the 27th of January. After
his arrival he was doing so well, that, on the very day previous to
his death, which occurred on the 6th of February, 1834,[99] he took
food with appetite, and no doubt was entertained of his recovery. But
mortification of the wound suddenly set in, and all hope was abandoned.
So rapid was his prostration, that he died soon after midnight; having
given such directions respecting his affairs as the shortness of the
last fatal warning permitted. While on his sick-bed, every needful and
possible aid was afforded him. In the airiest room of Colonel Nicholl's
residence, receiving the unremitting attention of that humane and
gallant officer (the Governor of Fernando Po), with the best medical
assistance, and the most soothing services, his pains were alleviated
and his spirits were cheered. He was conscious of his approaching
dissolution, talked with calmness to those around him, and anticipated
the termination of his career with composure and with hope. His body
was laid in the grave at the Clarence Cemetery amid the vivid regrets
of the whole population, who accompanied the funeral.

An account of this voyage, which Lander had promised should be his
_last_--though he did not anticipate its _fatal_ termination--was
published by Messrs. Laird and Oldfield, the only surviving officers
of the expedition, in 1835; but I have been obliged to obtain the
foregoing account of the attack at Ingiamma, and the death of Richard
Lander, from other sources. Messrs. Laird and Oldfield's work is
illustrated by another, containing eleven views and maps by Commander
W. Allen, R.N., published by Murray in 1840.


Though the subject of these notes seems to have been in every sense
the life and soul of the expedition, yet, as the French writer Lanoye
tartly pointed out, at the time of his writing poor Lander's grave in
the cemetery of Fernando Po was undistinguished by any monument; nor
do I know whether or not this omission has even yet been rectified.
'A solitary palm tree,' says Baikie,[100] 'marks the spot where this
heroic traveller and most intrepid pioneer of civilization fell;' but
the village itself from which the attack was delivered has, I believe,
been moved about a quarter of a mile farther up the river.

The Royal Geographical Society, however, has not been unmindful of
Lander's claim to a place in the front rank of discoverers, and have
fixed in the Chapel Royal, Savoy, a stained glass memorial window, the
subjects of which are the Transfiguration and the Last Supper, with the
following inscription:

  'In memory of Richard Lemon Lander, the discoverer of the source of
  the Niger, and the first Gold Medallist of the Royal Geographical
  Society.[101] He was born at Truro, in 1804, and died in the Island of
  Fernando Po in 1834, from wounds inflicted by the natives. This window
  is inserted by her Majesty's permission by some of his relations and
  friends, and by some of the Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society.'

This was in substitution for the tablet erected in 1834, and destroyed
by the fire of 7th July, 1864.

His native place has not forgotten his fame, as the Doric column
at Truro surmounted by his statue testifies. The plate on the
foundation-stone bore this inscription: 'To honour the enterprise and
sufferings of the brothers Richard and John Lander, natives of this
town, and to commemorate the early fate of Richard, who perished on the
Quorra, Ætat. 30.' And his name has been given to two places on the
Niger. That he did not himself forget his Cornish home is clear from
his having named an island on the river '_Truro_ Island,' and one of
the high hills on its banks, '_Cornwall_ Mountain.'

A writer in the 'Annual Biography and Obituary' for 1834 says of him
that 'Richard Lander was of short stature, but he possessed great
muscular strength, and a constitution of iron.' No stranger could help
being 'struck (as Sir Joseph Banks was with Ledyard) with the breadth
of his chest, the openness of his countenance, and the restlessness of
his eye. He was gifted in an eminent degree with that passive courage
which is so requisite a qualification in an African traveller. His
manners were mild, unobtrusive, and highly pleasing, which, joined to
his cheerful temper and ingenuous handsome countenance, rendered him a
favourite with everyone that knew him, by most of whom he was beloved
in the fullest sense of that word.'

So greatly was Richard Lander beloved by the untutored Africans, that
at various places in the interior where he had remained some time, as
at Katunga, Boussa, Yaoorie, numbers of the inhabitants ran out of
their huts to embrace him on his leaving, and with hands uplifted, and
eyes filled with tears, they blessed him in the name of their gods.

The _Literary Gazette_ for 3rd May, 1834, had the following
observations on Lander's death: 'Thus has another sacrifice to African
discovery been made: a man whose character was of the highest human
stamp. Calm and resolute, steady and fearless, bold and adventurous,
never did there exist a more fit instrument for the undertaking of such
exploits as those which have shed a lustre over his humble name. We
cannot express the sorrow with which the sad calamity has filled us--it
is a deep _private_ affliction, and a lasting _national_ regret.'

A pension of £70 a year was granted by the Government to Lander's
widow, and a donation of £50 to his daughter; and a sum of 80 guineas
which had been collected in Truro (with a view to presenting the
Landers with a piece of plate) was diverted towards the cost of
erecting the Lander column. An infant son of the same name died the
same year as his father, and was buried in the churchyard of the Savoy.

I do not know that I can more suitably conclude these imperfect remarks
than by quoting the following touching letter--I believe the last he
ever wrote--as an illustration of his amiable, unselfish character:

                                             'River Nun,
                                                'Jan. 22, 1834.

  'DEAR SIR,

  'Having an opportunity of writing to you by King Boy (who will give
  it to King Obie to forward to you) I will avail myself of it. I was
  coming up to you with a cargo of cowries and dry goods worth £450,
  when I was attacked from all quarters by the natives of Hyammah off
  the fourth island from Sunday Island (eighty-four miles from the mouth
  of the Nun). The shot were very numerous both from the island and
  shore, Mrs. Brown and child were taken prisoners, whom I was bringing
  up to her husband, as well as Robert the boy. I have advanced King Boy
  money to go and purchase them; the vessel will call here immediately,
  as I am going to Fernando Po to get _the people's_ wounds attended to.

  'We had 3 men shot dead: Thomson, second mate of the cutter, one
  Krooman, and one Cape Coastman. I am wounded, but I hope not
  dangerously, the ball having entered close to the "bottom of the
  spine," and struck the thigh bone: it is not extracted yet. Thos.
  Oxford is wounded in the groin, two Kroomen wounded dangerously and
  one slightly. I am sorry to say I lost all my papers and everything
  belonging to me, the boat and one canoe; having escaped in one of
  the canoes barely with a coat to our backs, they chasing us in their
  war-canoes; and all our cartridges being wet, we could not keep them
  off. They attacked us at 3 p.m. on the 20th January, and left us at 8
  at night. We pulled all night and reached the cutter on the 21st. We
  are now under weigh for Fernando Po.

      'I remain,
          'Your most affectionate Friend,
                  'R. L. LANDER.

  'To Surgeon Oldfield,
      '_Alburka_ Steamer,
          'River Niger.'

Such was the fate of one who may be not unfairly described as one
of the chief, if not the chief, of the pioneers of West African
exploration. It is evident that access to the interior of the Dark
Continent continues to engage the attention of travellers; for,
according to the comments of a recent writer on the meeting of the
Royal Geographical Society in May, 1883:

  'Africa has at no period of its history been so flooded with eager
  seekers after the unknown as at the present hour. Apart from the
  explorations for commercial and political purposes that are being
  carried out by French officers in Senegambia and on the Upper Niger
  and Congo, a Russian expedition under Rogozinzki, and an Italian one
  under Bianchi and Licata, have been planned to enter the country at
  the Bight of Biafra. These expeditions will probably be absent several
  years, for they are organized with the object of crossing through
  the unknown region between the Congo, the Benueh, and Lake Tchad,
  and of so eventually reaching Abyssinia. Numerous other travellers
  are either in the interior or making for the goal as best they can;
  and Mr. Stanley, in pursuance of his mission on the Upper Congo, is
  understood to have made a voyage up one of its greatest tributaries,
  and discovered a hitherto unsuspected lake of considerable magnitude.
  Another such sheet of water is believed to be not far from the Welle;
  and now that Mr. Joseph Thomson and Dr. Fischer are far on their way
  to examine the country between the sea and the northern end of Lake
  Nyassa, the snow-capped Mounts Kenia and Kilimandjaro promise before
  long to be removed from the region of myth. Messrs. O'Neill, Johnson,
  and Stewart's explorations in the same quarter are adding much to our
  acquaintance with a country hitherto little known, and as soon as the
  steamer can be carried in sections across the road cut between Nyassa
  and Tanganyika, the latter lake will become almost as well surveyed
  as Lakes Huron or Superior. Holub intends boring from one end of
  Africa to another, and without doing more than mentioning a few of the
  names which most readily suggest themselves, Böhm, Kaiser, Stecker,
  Giraud, Aubrey, Hamon, Revoil, and Schuver are among the many eager,
  and in most cases tried, explorers whose efforts or achievements
  in different parts of Africa during the past year deserve special
  remark. The scheme of international stations, started and carried out
  by the committee presided over by King Leopold, is rapidly joining
  the East and West Coast by a chain of civilized settlements, where
  the rude tribes can learn the arts of peace, and the weary explorers
  find the succour and assistance denied to their predecessors from the
  hour they entered the Dark Continent. Africa must before long become
  permeated with what Europeans call light, and, though the accounts
  of later travellers do not confirm the sanguine estimates of the
  earlier pioneers, the resources of its great forests, rich valleys,
  and mineral veins are at least capable of supporting a vastly greater
  trade than the country at present enjoys.'

Whatever may be the future of Africa, Richard Lander's name will
always be remembered as that of one of the earliest and bravest of her
explorers.

[Illustration: (end of chapter vignette.)]

FOOTNOTES:

[95] There is a portrait of Richard Lander in the possession of the
Royal Geographical Society, painted by W. Brockedon, F.R.S., and it was
engraved by C. Turner, A.R.A.

[96] The Niger, so Herodotus heard, flowed from the west
_eastward_--[Greek: apô hesperês pros hêlion anatellonta].

Pliny first uses the word Niger or Nigris. He seems to have thought
that the _Niger_ and Nile were somehow united; and Claudian seems to
have fallen into the same mistake:

                    'Gèr notissimus amnis
  Æthiopum, simili mentitus gurgite Nilum.'

The French have a notion that the Senegal and the Niger may be
connected by a cutting, by which means Timbuctoo might be conveniently
approached, and trade opened up with the interior of Africa.

[97] On account of his short stature he was generally called by the
natives in Africa 'Nasarah Curramee,' or Little Christian.

[98] Cowries are small shells, the medium of exchange with the natives:
their present value is about one shilling per thousand.

[99] The 2nd of February is the date given by S. Tissington as that
which was on the monument erected to Lander's memory in the Savoy
Chapel by his widow and child.

[100] Baikie's 'Niger,' 1854.

[101] Namely, in 1832.




_THE REV. HENRY MARTYN, B.D._,

THE CHRISTIAN MISSIONARY AND ORIENTAL SCHOLAR.




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_THE REV. HENRY MARTYN, B.D._,

THE CHRISTIAN MISSIONARY AND ORIENTAL SCHOLAR.

'Atque opere in medio defixa reliquit aratra.'

                    'Hopes have precarious life;
    They are oft blighted, withered, snapped sheer oft
    In vigorous youth and turned to rottenness;
    _But faithfulness can feed on suffering,
    And know no disappointment_.'

                                     _Spanish Gypsy._


Anyone who would write the life of Henry Martyn, must feel that he is
about to tread upon holy ground. For, however clearly we may see, on
perusing his 'Journals and Letters,'[102] that his introspection was
morbidly minute, his temper naturally irritable, and his religious
views generally of the gloomiest as well as of an almost impracticable
character, yet his ardent zeal, his saint-like devotion, his
self-denial, and his deep humility, afford such an example of earnest
piety as is rarely to be met with in the annals of the Church, since
the days of the Apostles themselves. His very faults were but 'the
shadows of his virtues,' and of Henry Martyn it might truly be said
that to him--without religion--

    'The pillared firmament was rottenness,
    And earth's base built on stubble.'

How much of this was due to that frequent correlation which, as Mr.
Galton points out, frequently exists between an unusually devout
disposition and a weak constitution, it would of course be hard to say.

I cannot help thinking that Martyn has been a little unfortunate in
his biographer, the Rev. John Sargent, jun., although that writer's
'Memoir' has been so popular that I believe it has run through about
a score of editions. There was a tardy apology for the tone of the
book in the preface to the tenth edition--and an explanation to the
effect that Martyn's religion was really by no means of a desponding
character, and that few persons 'have equalled him in the enjoyment of
that "peace which passeth all understanding."' If such were the case
it is unfortunate that the extracts made by Mr. Sargent from Martyn's
'Journals' should have left so wide-spread an impression to the
contrary--an impression which it is probably as fruitless to attempt to
counteract as Mr. Sargent expected it would be.

Sargent appears to have sympathized chiefly with one side of Martyn's
character, namely, the gloomy and self-torturing one, and the result is
that to read the 'Memoir' harrows one's feelings. Very similar remarks
apply to the 'Journals and Letters,' but in the latter, at least, we
have only the man himself, and are spared the somewhat complacent tone
in which his mental anguish and physical sufferings are depicted by
his friend and biographer. Charles Kingsley used to say of Martyn: 'My
mind is in a chaos about him. Sometimes one feels inclined to take him
at his own word, and believe him, as he says, a mere hypochondriac;
then the next moment he seems a saint. I cannot fathom it. Of this,
however, I am certain, that he was a much better man than I am.'
One great lesson, however, of this learned, brave, and good man's
life--crowned as it surely was with the crown of the martyr, if ever
mortal's brow were so adorned--appears to me to be this: that a life of
seclusion, nay, almost isolation, such as his, defeats its own object,
if that object be, like Martyn's, to influence our fellow-men. 'It is
miserable,' he used to say, when thinking of the vast amount of sin
there was in the world, 'it is miserable living with men;' and, again,
'a dried leaf or a straw makes me feel in good company.' And herein
seems to lie a great difference between Martyn, notwithstanding his
learning, his piety, and his dauntless courage amidst incessant perils,
and such heroic Christian missionaries as were St. Paul and Bishop
Heber, who had learnt to mix more freely with their fellow-men, and to
combine the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove.

But to turn to the life itself. Henry Martyn, like Martin Luther,
sprang from a family of mine captains, and was born at Truro, on Feb.
18th, 1781--the third child of a family of four. His father, who lived
at first near Gwennap Church-Town, had been an Accountant at Wheal
Virgin; and being, like many others of his calling, an ingenious and
self-reliant man, taught himself arithmetic and some mathematics;
his abilities attracted the attention of Mr. Daniell, one of the
Truro merchants, and ultimately John Martyn became his chief clerk.
'The elder Martyn,' Polwhele says, 'was a tall, erect man, used to
take his daily exercise under the Coinage Hall, which was opposite
his house.' The house was pulled down to make room for the new Town
Hall; it occupied the site of the present Police Station, as I am
informed. Henry's great-uncle, Thomas Martyn, was the author of the
large and excellent Map of Cornwall, known by his name.[103] He was
a surveyor, and his map is said to have been the result of fifteen
years' labour--the survey having been made on foot. He died in 1752-53.
Henry's mother, from whom he seems to have inherited his delicate
constitution, was a Miss Fleming of Ilfracombe; she died the year after
he was born.

Henry Martyn--'little Henry Martyn,' as his schoolfellows used tenderly
to call him--was sent at Midsummer, 1788, to that capital nest of so
large a number of our most distinguished Cornishmen--the Truro Grammar
School--and he is thus described by one of his fellow-pupils, the late
Clement Carlyon, M.D., Fellow of Pembroke College, and thrice Mayor of
Truro, in his 'Early Years and Late Reflections:' 'A good-humoured,
plain little fellow, with red eyelids devoid of eye-lashes, and
indicative of a scrofulous habit; and with hands so thickly covered
with warts that it was impossible for him to keep them clean, or
for his respected master,[104] who borrowed a large leaf out of Dr.
Busby's book, to inflict on him, when idle, stripes over the back of
his hand.' He seems to have improved in appearance as he grew older;
but was always 'rather low in stature, and plain in person, though
not disagreeably so;[105] whilst his amiable disposition[106] and
sociability ensured him the esteem and friendship of all who were
acquainted with him.' Though all his life long he was particularly
fond of laughing and playing with little children, at school he
seldom played with the other boys; and seems to have evinced no
precocity, nor was he very studious, like his friend and school-fellow
Kempthorne[107] (Senior Wrangler of 1796, and afterwards vicar of
a church in Gloucester): nor did Martyn display the poetic vein of
another of his colleagues, Humphry Davy.

At the Truro Grammar School, having failed in 1795 to obtain a
Scholarship at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, he remained till 1797,
in which year he took up residence at St. John's College, Cambridge,
where, from his assiduity, he was known as 'the man who had never
lost an hour,' and was at once fortunate in securing the advice and
friendship of his old acquaintance Kempthorne, who, as well as Martyn
himself, soon came within the influence of a very earnest Low Church
Divine, the Rev. Charles Simeon, a fellow of King's College, of whom
it is only right to add that he more than once warned Martyn, whilst
in the East, that he was overtaxing his strength and energies. To this
clergyman Martyn was afterwards to become curate.

The death of his father in 1800 led Martyn to study the Bible most
seriously; and he so read its pages as to determine upon basing his
whole life upon its promises. He says, for instance, of his magnificent
success in becoming the Senior Wrangler of his year (and that year was
a distinguished one in the annals of the University): 'I obtained my
highest wishes, but was surprised to find I had grasped a shadow!'
Indeed, it is said that, when he entered the Senate House for the
examination, and saw the unusually large number assembled there, he
ejaculated, with apparently some inconsistency, the text: 'Seekest
thou great things for thyself? seek them not, saith the Lord.' In 1802
he became Fellow and Tutor of his college, and gained the first prize
for Latin prose composition, thus compensating amply for his lack of
success in 1799, when he failed to obtain the prize for themes in his
college, and came out second instead of first, as was expected, at the
examination.

He now returned to his native place for a short time, for much-needed
rest and change; not, however, staying much at Truro, but passing
most of his holiday at Woodbury, just below Malpas, on the Fal,
the residence of his brother-in-law, Rev. Mr. Curgenven (curate of
the parishes of Kenwyn and Kea). These were amongst the happiest
moments of his life. He says, either of this place or Lamorran (and
the description is applicable to either): 'The scene is such as is
frequently to be met with in this part of Cornwall. Below the house is
an arm of the sea flowing between the hills, which are covered with
wood. By the shore I walk in general, in the evening, out of the reach
of all sound but the rippling of the water and the whistling of the
curlew.'

On his return to Cambridge in the following October, conversations
with Mr. Simeon, instigated by a perusal of the 'Life and Labours
of David Brainerd among the North American Indians,' gave rise to
Martyn's intense desire to become a missionary; and, notwithstanding
his alleged appreciative enjoyment of a literary and social life at
home, he offered his services to a Missionary Society. They were not,
however, accepted; and after having been ordained at Ely in October,
1803, he became Mr. Simeon's curate--preaching sometimes at Lolworth,
a church six miles from the University, on the Huntingdon road, and
sometimes at Trinity Church, Cambridge. Simeon always continued a
friend and admirer of Martyn, and had his portrait hung up over
his fireplace. He often used to look up at it with affectionate
earnestness: 'There!' he used to say, 'see that blessed man! What an
expression of countenance! No one looks at me as he does--he seems
always to be saying, "Be serious, be in earnest; don't trifle--_don't_
trifle." 'Then he would smile at the picture, and gently bow, and add:
'And I won't trifle--I won't trifle.'

Early in 1804, Martyn, as well as his younger sister, Sally (Mrs.
Pearson), to whom he seems to have been fondly attached, had the
misfortune to lose all their patrimony; an event which, in addition
to the causes already referred to, probably led to his making a
second effort (which was also at the time unsuccessful) to procure an
appointment as a missionary--this time in the form of a 'chaplaincy' to
the East India Company. This year was further memorable from Martyn's
making the acquaintance of a kindred spirit--the poet, H. Kirke White
(also a Johnian), 'a religious young man of seventeen, who wants to
come to college, but has only £20 a year.'

Another visit to his solitary retreat in Cornwall refreshed him during
the summer, and whilst there he preached to a crowded congregation
at Kenwyn Church from 2 Cor. v. 20, 21: 'Now we are ambassadors,'
etc. (a very favourite text of his), and availed himself of the
opportunity, before returning to Cambridge on 18th of September, 1804,
to take leave of his county and friends, in view of the probability
of his soon getting the desired appointment under the East India
Company. On his way back to the University, as his journals testify,
with characteristic zeal and devotedness, though, apparently, not
always with tact and skill, he lost no opportunity, in season or out
of season, of turning the conversation of his fellow-travellers to
religious topics.

At this period of his life his usual routine seems to have been to rise
every morning at about half-past five (and, if he failed to do so,
his self-reproaches are most bitter); to work hard, either with his
pupils, his flock, or his books; to pray at least four times a day,
and to write at least one sermon a week. The Scriptures he doubtless
read daily; and the spirit in which he read them may be seen from the
following extract from his Journals, written when on board ship, on his
way to India: 'Read Isaiah the rest of the evening--sometimes happy
and at other times tired, and desiring to take up some other religious
book; _but I saw it an important duty to check this slighting of the
Word of God_.' And here it may be interesting to note the other works
which seem to have been amongst Martyn's favourites. Of course, he
kept up his mathematics and science; but the references to these in
his Journals are slight and few. He often read the Greek plays, but
his chief reading was, as might be expected, divinity; and especially
St. Augustine, Grotius, Paley, Baxter, Hooker, Pearson, Fletcher's
'Portrait,' Flavel's 'Saint Indeed,' Searle's 'Christian Remembrancer,'
Thomas à Kempis, Law's 'Serious Call,' Lowth, Bishop Hopkins, Jonathan
Edwards's 'Original Sin,' and his work on the Affections, Whitfield's
Journal, Leighton, Milner's 'Church History,' etc., etc.; and these
were interspersed with the study of Hindostanee and other Oriental
languages.

Martyn's religious position and views have been thus described in the
_Edinburgh Review_ for July, 1844, by a writer who traces their origin
to the well-known Clapham School of 'Evangelical' religion:

  'From that circle he adopted, in all its unadorned simplicity, the
  system called Evangelical--that system of which (if Augustine, Luther,
  Calvin, Knox, and the writers of the English Homilies may be credited)
  Christ Himself was the author, and Paul the first and greatest
  interpreter.

  'Through shallow heads and voluble tongues, such a creed (or indeed
  any creed) filtrates so easily, that, of the multitudes who maintain
  it, comparatively few are aware of the conflict of their faith with
  the natural and unaided reason of mankind. Indeed, he who makes such
  an avowal will hardly escape the charge of affectation or of impiety.
  Yet if any truth be clearly revealed, it is, that the Apostolic
  doctrine was foolishness to the sages of this world. If any unrevealed
  truth be indisputable, it is, that such sages are at this day making,
  as they have ever made, ill-disguised efforts to escape the inferences
  with which their own admissions teem. Divine philosophy divorced from
  human science--celestial things stripped of the mitigating veils woven
  by man's wit and fancy to relieve them--form an abyss as impassable
  at Oxford now, as at Athens eighteen centuries ago. To Henry Martyn
  the gulf was visible, the self-renunciation painful, the victory
  complete. His understanding embraced, and his heart reposed in, the
  two comprehensive and ever-germinating tenets of the school in which
  he studied. Regarding his own heart as corrupt, and his own reason as
  delusive, he exercised an unlimited affiance in the holiness and the
  wisdom of Him, in whose person the divine nature had been allied to
  the human, that, in the persons of his followers, the human might be
  allied to the divine.

  'Such was his religious theory--a theory which doctors may combat,
  or admit, or qualify, but in which the readers of Henry Martyn's
  Biography, Letters, and Journals, cannot but acknowledge that he
  found the resting-place of all the impetuous appetencies of his mind,
  the spring of all his strange powers of activity and endurance.
  Prostrating his soul before the real, though the hidden Presence he
  adored, his doubts were silenced, his anxieties soothed, and every
  meaner passion hushed into repose.'

On the 2nd of April, 1805, having previously been ordained priest
at St. James's Chapel Royal, London, and having taken his degree as
Bachelor of Divinity, he preached his last sermon at Cambridge, and
came to London to prosecute his studies in Hindostanee, and to preach
occasionally at St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row. It was about this time
that he made the acquaintance of Wilberforce, dining with him and going
afterwards to the House of Commons, where he was much struck with the
eloquence, great seriousness, and energy of Pitt 'about that which is
of no consequence at all.'

He at length, on the 24th April, 1805, obtained the long-wished-for
chaplaincy, with a salary of £1,200 a year, and was fervently longing
to enter upon his labours, exclaiming on one occasion, from the very
depths of his soul: 'Gladly shall this base blood be shed, every drop
of it, if India can be benefited in one of her children!'

This would seem to be the proper occasion to advert to a passage in
Martyn's Life which must possess for any genial reader a most touching
interest. The enthusiastic clergyman had become deeply smitten with the
attractions of Miss Lydia Grenfell, of the parish of St. Hilary, three
or four miles from Marazion. His affection for this lady appears to
have been both profound and sincere; but he feared that its indulgence
might prove a bar to the higher aims which he had set before him. His
mental conflicts on this subject, as on all others, were most severe;
and under such circumstances, and with his gloomy and excitable
religious views, he may have appeared, what the lady herself (some few
years his senior) undoubtedly was, a somewhat languid and vacillating
lover. That the lady never married him--although her final refusal did
not reach him till 1807, when he was in India--was perhaps fortunate
for both parties; but, undoubtedly, Martyn continued to love her and
to correspond with her to the last. The peculiar circumstances of this
attachment gave rise to Holme Lee's (Harriet Parr's) story of 'Her
Title of Honour;' that title consisting of the honour done to Eleanor
Trevelyan by being beloved by so good and great a man as Francis Gwynne
(Martyn). Miss Grenfell never married. Her sister Emma became the wife
of the Rev. T. M. Hitchins,[108] of Devonport, Martyn's cousin; and
some interesting letters to her from Martyn, mostly bearing upon the
subject of his love for Lydia, will be found in a supplement to the
'Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall' edited by Mr. Henry
Martyn Jeffery, F.R.S. (vol. vii. pt. 3, December, 1882, No. 26).

The ship in which he was to sail for India left London on the 8th
of July, 1805. Martyn joined her at Portsmouth on the 17th, after
having had 'a convulsion fit' on the road down. The _Union_ called
(unexpectedly) at Falmouth, where she was detained for three weeks by
unfavourable winds, and Martyn thus had opportunities of returning to
St. Hilary, about twenty miles off, and again enduring the 'pleasing
pain' which he found in his loved one's society. But whilst there the
wind suddenly shifted, and Martyn had the narrowest possible escape
from missing the ship. His self-reproaches on such an occasion as this
may be imagined!

On the 10th of September the _Union_ at length sailed from Falmouth,
and our devoted hero's dejection on contemplating the Cornish cliffs
fading away in the distance was very deep. He longed to die, so he
says, on the way out. A storm arose as they left Ireland behind them,
and added to his sufferings. But at length, after touching at Madeira,
and at San Salvador in Brazil, they safely reached Calcutta on the 14th
of May, 1806, after a tedious and dangerous voyage of nine months.

On the passage Martyn's usual zeal, and, it might be added, want of
tact, had ample opportunities of displaying themselves. Nothing could
exceed his devotion to the men when sick, or whenever the slightest
opportunity presented itself of speaking to any of them on the subject
which was ever uppermost in his own soul. And his courage was admirably
displayed in landing almost _with_ the troops when the successful
attack was delivered by the British under Sir David Baird upon the
French and Dutch troops at the Cape of Good Hope in January, 1806.
Nor was he unmindful of the welfare of the cadets on board, to whom
he imparted instruction in a variety of subjects, with all the force
of his powerful intellect. But his religious ministrations were, for
the most part, unappreciated, owing to the excessively gloomy tone
with which they were pervaded, and to his tendency to 'scold his
congregation,' a fault of which it may be remembered even Cowper
complained in Mr. Scott, the curate of Olney. The captain dared not
allow him to preach more than once on Sundays, and all the officers
made a point of standing near the cabin-door, so as to make good their
retreat whenever the sermon became too miserably painful. 'Mr. Martyn,'
they once said, '_must_ not damn us to-day, or none will come again.'

After a stay of about four months in Calcutta, during which,
notwithstanding a sharp attack of fever, he went on with his lingual
studies, occasionally preached to somewhat unsympathetic audiences, and
had opportunities of witnessing Suttee and the Juggernaut procession,
he was, on the 13th September, at length appointed to Dinapore, and on
the 15th October proceeded up the Ganges to his post, in a budgerow,
passing most of his time in translating portions of the Scriptures into
the native tongues. He reached Dinapore on 26th November, and met with
but a very cold reception from the Europeans there, as well as from the
natives; and, worst of all, there was no church or church furniture
at his disposal. But he soon got to work, and gave his most special
attention to the native children, who appeared to have been very apt
and tractable, and for whom he is said to have built, at his own cost,
whilst in India, five schools. He now obtained, for the purposes of his
translations, the assistance (such as it was) of two natives--Mirza
Fitrut, who is described as being guileful and hypocritical, and
the vain and furious-tempered Nathanael Sabat, who seem to have
entertained a very cordial jealousy and hatred of each other. Sabat
had served both in the Turkish and Persian armies. He had a free and
haughty manner, and a fierce look, and signed himself 'Nathanael Sabat,
an Arab who was never in bondage.' He used to contend with Martyn so
violently at times that Martyn had to order his palanquin and be off to
his friends, the Sherwoods.

Part of the Prayer Book was, under conditions such as these, translated
into Hindostanee; to this his 'dear friend and brother chaplain'
Corrie added; but it was not completed until 1829, seventeen years
after Martyn's death. In 1807 Martyn finished, in Hindostanee, his
'Commentary on the Parables;' and, by the end of 1809, a plain and
idiomatic version of the four Gospels. The following year saw the
New Testament completed. His translations into the Persian were not
considered quite so successful; but about this time he appears to have
first definitely conceived the desire of evangelizing Persia, and it
was always with regret that he went on with his translations, dreading
lest they might interfere with his strictly ministerial duties. He was
at this time so strict a Sabbatarian that he thought he was doing wrong
in translating even the Prayer Book into Hindostanee on a Sunday.

Signs of breaking health were now becoming too painfully apparent; in
fact, he may be said to have been constantly ill. His friend Corrie
(afterwards Bishop of Madras) paid Martyn two visits in 1808, and
saw that 'there was small prospect of his long continuance in this
vale of tears.' But the tone of Martyn's people towards him had
somewhat improved; and in April, 1809, he was moved to Cawnpore, a
distance of 240 miles--the journey being performed in a fierce heat.
He was kindly received by Captain and Mrs. Sherwood; but here again
he found no church. He first preached at Cawnpore in the native
tongue, and remained at his post until the 30th September, 1810, when,
notwithstanding his 'bright invincibility of spirit,' his health
utterly gave way, and he went back to Calcutta, arriving there with
pallid countenance and enfeebled frame. 'Fortia agere Romanum est,
fortia pati Christianum,' wrote an old author; and, surely, if ever the
courage of the Roman, and the calm brave endurance of the Christian
met, they met in Henry Martyn.

But returning after a while to Cawnpore, he resumed his correspondence
with Miss Grenfell, now _as a friend_; and tells her that this was his
daily routine: 'We rise at daybreak, and breakfast at six. Immediately
after breakfast we pray[109] together; after which I translate into
Arabic with Sabat, who lives in a small bungalow on my ground. We
dine at twelve, and sit recreating ourselves with talking about dear
friends in England. In the afternoon I translate with Mirza Fitrut
into Hindostanee; and Corrie employs himself in teaching some native
Christian boys, whom he is educating with great care, in the hopes of
their being fit for the office of catechists. I have also a school on
my premises for natives; but it is not well attended. At sunset we
ride or drive, and then meet at the church, where we often raise the
song of praise with as much joy, through the grace and presence of our
Lord, as you do in England. At ten we are all asleep.... My work at
present is evidently to translate; hereafter I may itinerate.'

By the spring of 1810 his church, converted from its former use as a
heathen temple, was ready,[110] and his friend Corrie came to visit and
assist him; but he preached in it for the last time on 30th September,
1810, and shortly afterwards went back to Calcutta.

Persia now finally became the object of Martyn's pious yearnings; and,
on the 9th January, in the following year, he set out on his memorable,
but, it is much to be feared, slightly rewarded, journey--a journey
accomplished with so much fatigue, and under such sudden and excessive
changes of temperature, as to have been, doubtless, the proximate cause
of the destruction of his frail body. He stopped at Goa on the route,
and travelled _viâ_ Bombay, landing at Muscat, in Arabia Felix, on
the 22nd April. On the 30th he set out for Shiraz, 'the City of the
Rose'--the Athens of Persia, where he arrived on the 9th June, and met
with a most insulting reception from the people. But Martyn thought
that even such a reception as this was better than so unworthy a sinner
as he merited! Referring to this episode in Martyn's career Dean Alford
writes:

    'The pale-faced Frank among them sits: what brought him from afar?
    Nor bears he bales of merchandise, nor teaches arts of war.
    One pearl alone he brings with him--the Book of life and death.
    One warfare only teaches he--to fight the fight of faith.'

Matters, however, improved after a while; the Armenian ladies came
to kiss his hand, and the priest incensed him four times over at the
altar. Here, on the 24th February, 1812, he completed, under most
discouraging circumstances, his translation of the New Testament
into Persian.[111] After labouring 'for six weary moons,' a similar
version of the Psalms was finished in the following month; and on the
24th May, 'the meek missionary of the Cross' left Shiraz in order to
present the precious documents himself to the Shah. Much difficulty and
delay intervened on account of the diplomatic formalities considered
necessary on such an occasion; and eventually, after visiting Ispahan
and Teheran, Martyn was disappointed in the object he had in view,
having been struck down by illness, increased by the hardships of
travel and climate, before his desires were accomplished. For two
months he was completely laid up--weeping many 'tears from the depths
of a divine despair'--at the house of Sir Gore Ouseley, the British
Ambassador at Tabriz, who afterwards had the gratification of showing
Martyn's manuscript to the Shah, and it was sent to St. Petersburg to
be printed.

This renewed illness caused Martyn to determine on returning to
England, for his health's sake. But it was too late. On his homeward
way (_viâ_ Constantinople), seeing Mount Ararat on the journey, and
passing through Erivan, Kars, Erzeroum, and Tokat--'hardly knowing
how to keep his life in him'--he succumbed near the latter place, to
hunger, thirst, sunstroke, fever and ague, aggravated by his desperate
gallop for life across the scorching plains, and beneath a rainless
sky, untempered by a single cloud, on the 6th October, 1812, in
the thirty-second year of his age. Here the last entry, commencing
'Oh! when shall Time give place to Eternity?' appears in his sad,
self-searching diary. Ten days afterwards he was no more.

He was buried in the Armenian burial-ground at Tokat, with the honours
usually accorded by Armenian Christians to an Archbishop; and a marble
slab, which the Tokat Christians were wont to keep clear of weeds,
covers his remains. Sir R. K. Porter, in his 'Travels in Persia' (vol.
ii., p. 703), after eulogizing Martyn's self-devotion and zeal beyond
the strength of a naturally delicate constitution, adds that 'exhausted
nature sank under the apostolic labour, and in this place he was called
to the rest of heaven. His remains sleep in a grave as humble as his
own meekness.'

Would it be too much to say of him

    'Heaven scarce believed the conquest it surveyed;
    And Saints with wonder heard the vows he made'?

Wordsworth's lines, at least, on another devoted son of the Church, are
clearly appropriate to Martyn:

    'He sought not praise, and praise did overlook
    His inobtrusive merit; but his life,
    Sweet to himself, was exercised in good
    That shall survive his name and memory.'

His tomb is still, I believe, piously regarded by the natives, and it
has been adorned by Lord Macaulay with the following lines:

    'Here Martyn lies! In manhood's early bloom
    The Christian hero finds a Pagan's tomb:
    Religion sorrowing o'er her favourite son,
    Points to the glorious trophies which he won.
    Eternal trophies, not with slaughter red,
    Not stained with tears by hapless captives shed;
    But trophies of the Cross! For that dear Name
    Through every form of danger, death, and shame,
    Onward he journeyed to a happier shore,
    Where danger, death, and shame assault no more.'

A Hall, dedicated to his memory, and designed to provide a place of
meeting for the different Religious Societies in Cambridge, is about to
be erected in Market Street; and on the centenary of Martyn's birth,
viz., 18th February, 1881, special services in his memory were held at
the pro-Cathedral at Truro. In the evening Bishop Benson delivered a
lecture on Martyn at the Town Hall, at the close of which he proposed
that subscriptions should be invited towards the construction of a
portion of the new Cathedral, as for instance an aisle or transept,
to be dedicated to the cause of Missions in honour of his name.
A Baptistry was finally decided upon; and about £1,250 had been
collected up to June, 1883. By the attainment of these objects, this
distinguished Cornishman, whose motto was, 'To believe, to suffer, and
to love,' will be provided with fitting memorials.

FOOTNOTES:

[102] Edited by Bishop Wilberforce, while Rector of Brighstone, Isle
of Wight, 1839. It is truly wonderful how so sincerely good a man as
Martyn should have entertained such desponding thoughts; and still more
wonderful how he could have so long continued writing them down.

[103] Son of a John Martyn of Gwennap, alive in 1695.

[104] The Rev. Cornelius Cardew, D.D., Rector of St. Erme and Vicar of
Uny Lelant, was one of the most distinguished masters of Truro Grammar
School. He was born on 27th Feb., 1748, and died at St. Erme, 18th
Sept., 1831, eighty-three years of age. He was buried in the chancel of
that church, and his monument records that

          'Per annos triginta quatuor
    Scholæ Grammaticæ apud Truronenses
          præsidebat Archididasculus.'

[105] An engraved portrait of him will be found in the Rev. Hy.
Clissold's 'Lamps of the Church,' London, 1863. Mrs. Sherwood, in the
_Christian Remembrancer_ for October, 1854, thus refers to Martyn's
appearance when in India: 'He was dressed in white, and looked very
pale; his hair, a light brown, was raised from his forehead, which
was a remarkably fine one. His features were not regular, but the
expression was so luminous, so intellectual, so affectionate, so
beaming with divine charity, as to absorb the attention of every
observer; there was a very decided air of the gentleman, too, about Mr.
Martyn, and a perfection of manners arising from his extreme attention
to all minute civilities. He had, moreover, a rich, deep voice and a
fine taste for vocal music.'

[106] He used to say _of himself_, that his temper was satirical and
arrogant, and that his heart was 'of adamant.'

[107] Though Exeter College, Oxford, was the usual Cornish College, yet
many Cornish men have gone to Cambridge; where they have not failed to
distinguish themselves. Besides the two Senior Wranglers named above,
may be mentioned Mr. Adams, the eminent astronomer, born at Lidcott,
Laneast, Senior Wrangler in 1843; and the late Bishop Colenso, 2nd
Wrangler in 1836, who was born at St. Austell.

[108] His father, the Rev. Malachi Hitchins, Vicar of St. Hilary and
Gwinear, was Assistant Astronomer at Greenwich, and first Computer of
the Nautical Almanac.

[109] Martyn used finely to speak of prayer as 'a visit to the
invisible world.'

[110] It was destroyed in the mutiny of 1857.

[111] The late lamented Professor Palmer, the well-known Oriental
scholar, who perished in the attempt made during the recent Egyptian
campaign to detach the native supporters of Arabi from their leader's
cause, superintended, with Dr. Bruce, a new edition of Martyn's Persian
Version of the New Testament.




_OPIE_,

THE PAINTER.




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_OPIE_,

THE PAINTER.

 'A wondrous Cornishman, who is carrying all before him! He is
 Caravaggio and Velasquez in one!'--_Sir Joshua Reynolds to Northcote.
 (Redgrave's 'Century of Painters.'_)


Cornwall--so far as I am aware--has contributed only two members to
the Royal Academy of Arts, since its foundation on 10th December,
1768.[112] Henry Bone, of Truro, and John Opie,[113] born in May, 1761,
at Harmony Cot (once known as Blowing House[114]), near the hamlet of
Mithian, in the out-of-the-way parish of St. Agnes. The bleak desolate
moors, saturated by frequent hissing rain-storms, and scarred with
mine-heaps, the jagged cliff-coast, and the dark rolling Atlantic
waves of the neighbouring sea, have a savage grandeur of their own
which cannot have been without its effect on the youthful mind of the
future professor of painting. For, though he rose to the high position
of a Royal Academician when only about twenty-seven years of age, we
shall seek, I think, in vain amongst his works for that delicate, airy
grace of many of his more courtly contemporaries, which no one admired
more than himself; and we shall find instead an original, broad, and
manly, though somewhat grim and sombre style, which may well have been
inspired by the wildness and gloom of his surroundings when a child
on this remote 'bench of the world-school.' Allan Cunningham says
well of him that he was not 'the servile _follower_ of any man, or of
any school;' and, as a matter of fact, his self-reliance early showed
itself. On seeing a butterfly painted by one Mark Oates, an officer
of Marines, an amateur artist of some merit (whose portrait Opie
afterwards painted),--Jan Oppie (as his name was sometimes pronounced)
exclaimed: '_I_ can paint it as well as Mark Oates.'

Opie's father, Edward Opie, who died while John was quite young, and
his grandfather were both of them carpenters and builders, though a
writer in the _Fine Arts Magazine_ has striven to show that the family
was really of old and gentle descent. _Tonkin_ (who, as a St. Agnes
man, ought to have known) says the Opies came from Ennis, or De
Insula, in St. Erme.

   Jno. Opie, sr. (lived here temp. Eliz.).
        |
  Robt. Opie=Jane, daur. of Agnes Jago.
            |
         Robt. (sold the Barton to Jago).
  (? descended from the Opies of Pawton, in St. Breock.)

  Arms: Sa. on a chev. between three garbs or, as many hurtleberries
  proper.

Other authorities also say the Opies originally came from St. Breock.
One thing, at least, from the genealogical point of view, is clear:
namely, that the genius for painting still remains in the family of
Opie: for 'the great nephew of a great uncle'--as Mr. Edward Opie
is pleasantly called in the recently published memoirs of Caroline
Fox--has for many years past been a highly successful portrait and
genre-painter in the West-country, and a constant exhibitor at the
Royal Academy for more than a quarter of a century.

Whatever may have been the origin of the family, John's father was
considered an unusually skilful craftsman; and his son was apprenticed
to him. His mother, a woman of very high principle and singularly sweet
disposition, was forty-eight when the son of her old age was born; and
she lived till she was ninety-two, dying in May, 1805. Her maiden name
was Mary Tonkin, of Trevaunance, near St. Agnes Porth; a family whom
Polwhele classes amongst his 'little gentry' of Cornwall. While on this
point, it may be well to state that Oppy, a Cornish artist with whom
the subject of this memoir has frequently been confused, was a member
of another and quite distinct family.

The fire of genius having been kindled by the butterfly episode, was
soon fanned into a flame by the intense and daring spirit of the boy.
Going with his father to carry out some repairs to the house of Mr. B.
Nankivell, at Mithian, the boy discovered that in one of the rooms hung
a painting of a farmplace. What its merits were it would be difficult
now to say, for the accounts of it are conflicting; but the picture
excited the most ardent admiration of young Opie, and he made more than
one furtive visit to the room in order to gaze upon the object of his
emulation, of which he was endeavouring to make a copy from memory, as
he feared to ask permission to inspect. Being detected, however, on one
of these occasions, the boon of a loan of the picture was granted, in
order that it might serve him as a model. His delight knew no bounds;
the much-wished-for copy was made, and was sold to a Mrs. Walker[115]
(whose son was Vicar of St. Winnow, on the banks of the Fowey) for five
shillings--a sum the magnitude of which so astonished the youngster
that he ran about the house shouting: 'I'm set up for life! I'm set up
for life!' Upon this his father is said to have cynically observed:
'That boy'll come to hanging, as sure as a gun;'--in fact, the father
did all in his power to keep the son close to a handicraft which for
two generations had been a sure, if small, means of support.

John's temperament seems to have always been excitable. Another
instance of his exuberant joy at an early success was when he returned
with twenty or thirty guineas in his pocket (which he presented to his
mother) from painting some of the Prideaux portraits, still preserved
at Place House, near Padstow; he threw the glittering coins on the
floor, and himself upon them, twisting about in his fine new coat, lace
ruffles, and silk stockings, and exclaiming with humorous glee, 'See!
see! I'm walving [wallowing] in gold!' But he was as easily depressed.
He used to tell how he once went to the neighbouring town of Redruth,
with half-a-crown in his pocket, to buy himself some colours, but was
so attracted by the gilded gingerbreads and other delights of the
fair that in a very short time his money was all wasted, and he had
to trudge his weary way homewards without the painting materials, and
so overcome by the miserable plight to which his thoughtlessness had
reduced him that he said he seriously meditated suicide by the way.

There was nothing enervating in the way in which young Opie was
reared. Not only was his fare frugal and his clothing and lodging
of very simple sort, but his religion and morals were doubtless
very strictly looked after by his parents, who seem to have been of
the old Puritanical school. But the spirit of the artist broke out
one summer Sunday afternoon, when Opie--then eleven years old--was
left in the cottage with his father, whilst old Mrs. Opie went to
church, or meeting-house. The old man had fallen fast asleep, and
his hopeful offspring seized the golden opportunity of painting
his portrait, hitherto a forbidden operation;--the way in which the
'Sabbath-breaking' young rogue was reviled by his progenitors may be
imagined better than I can describe it. Yet the likeness was so good,
and the motive so affectionate, that the offence was condoned, and
the portrait exhibited to all the neighbours with parental pride,
notwithstanding the boy's having irritated his father during the
progress of the work by awakening him from his nap in order to 'get
his eyes lightened up.' One of his uncles, however, is said to have
fostered John's talents, both as a mathematician and as an artist; at
any rate his love of art was not to be quenched, and the cottage-walls
were ere long decorated with portraits of most of his relations and
playfellows, painted with singular force and brilliancy for so young
and untaught an artist. Wolcot says that Opie used often to get up at
three in the morning to go to work on his painting.

From his thraldom in Mithian, Jan Opie was no doubt glad to get the
chance of escaping, when it was offered to him by Dr. Wolcot ('Peter
Pindar'), then living at Truro; a man who added to a strong satiric
vein of poetry a considerable amount of artistic taste, sufficient at
any rate to recognise that his _protégé_ was no common lad. It has
been said that Wolcot employed 'Jan' in some menial capacity about
his house on the Green; but this is not the case. He certainly did
give Opie the opportunity of copying his pictures, some of which were
very good; adding the sound advice to study hard from the life. It was
perhaps also whilst under the old doctor's roof that he continued his
mathematical studies with such success that he is said to have mastered
his Euclid when only twelve years old. William Sandby, in his 'History
of the Royal Academy,' says that Opie had a very good knowledge of
Euclid when only ten years of age; and that, about this time, spending
his scanty pocket-money in candles and writing materials, he set up an
evening school at St. Agnes, in which most of his pupils were twice as
old as himself. His uncle loved to call him 'little Sir Isaac.'

Dr. Wolcot did his best to get the rising young artist commissions
from his patients and acquaintances, and Opie's services were soon in
great request as a local portrait-painter. Many an old Cornish house
still possesses specimens of his early skill, as may be seen from the
long and elaborate account of his works prepared by the late Mr. J.
Jope Rogers. Sir Rose Price, of Trengwainton, had a portrait of an old
beggar by Opie, which was considered at the time a _chef-d'oeuvre_; and
the Truro families of Daniell and Vivian, who were liberal patrons of
his skill, also had some of the best examples of his rapid, vigorous
brush. Viscount Bateman, who was for some time quartered at Pendennis
Castle, Falmouth, with his regiment, the Hereford Militia, was another
of his early patrons, and gave Opie several commissions to paint
beggars, old men, and similar subjects. His usual price for a portrait,
when he was sixteen years of age, was seven shillings and sixpence.

But John Opie was getting a little too big for his remote native
county; and, instigated by 'Peter Pindar,' resolved on trying his
fortunes in London. The story goes--and it is not without some sort of
foundation--that the doctor (who had met with some pecuniary losses)
and his _protégé_ (or _pupil_, as Wolcot preferred calling him) were
to share profits; but that this arrangement only lasted for a year.
However that may be, either in 1780 or 1781 they both came to Town,
when 'the Cornish wonder' was forthwith introduced to Sir Joshua
Reynolds, then President of the Royal Academy; and in 1782, Opie, now
twenty-one years of age, exhibited (for the first time) on the walls of
that institution pictures of an old man's head, an old woman, and three
portraits.[116]

He now, with Wolcot, took apartments, which he himself furnished out of
the thirty or forty guineas which formed his capital, in Orange Court,
Leicester Fields--near Sir Joshua Reynolds' studio. The court itself is
demolished, but it stood at the back of the present National Gallery,
on the site of St. George's Barracks. Here John soon got to work
with his painting--copying the old masters, and studying diligently
the best English authors, whose wit and wisdom his powerful mind and
retentive memory enabled him to easily assimilate and retain. Milton,
Shakespeare, Dryden, Pope, Gray, Cowper, Butler (Hudibras), Burke, and
Dr. Johnson seem to have been his special favourites. The last-named
he idolized, and painted his portrait twice. He now also added French,
Italian, and a little Latin to his attainments. Sitters gradually
thronged round him; he 'trembled at his terrific popularity' and his
many flatterers; and, having been introduced to the King and Queen, his
fame spread like wild-fire, and he used merrily to say that he thought
of keeping a loaded cannon at his door to frighten off the crowds by
whom he was besieged. Wolcot says that Jan answered 'George' with St.
Agnes intrepidity, that the King bought some of his pictures, and
wished Opie every success.

The following is a letter to his mother on the memorable occasion of
his reception at the Palace. The MS., much tattered and torn, was
communicated to the Rev. Richard Polwhele by the present Mr. Edward
Opie:

  'DEAR MOTHER,

  'I received my brother's two last letters, and am exceedingly sorry
  to hear that my father is so poorly; don't let him work any more, I
  hope he will be better before this arrives. I have all the prospect
  of success that is possible, having much more business than I can
  possibly do. I have been with the King and Queen, who were highly
  pleased with my work, and took two of my pictures, and they are hung
  up in the King's collection at the Queen's palace. As to the £200
  business, it is entirely false, for I was but paid my price and no
  more. I could have had more money for the pictures if I had sold them
  to several noblemen.... There is no work stirring at this time, and
  it is a very improper time to see the town, as it is cold and very
  dirty, and so full of smoak and fog that you can hardly see the length
  of your nose, and I should not be able to stir anywhere out by day
  nor keep them company indoors, by reason of the quantity of business.
  I would advise them to come up in June, when they may see everything
  in fine weather, and probably I shall not be so busy then as I am
  now, because most of the quality go out of town at that time, and
  then also they may see all the great houses, &c., but now the familys
  are in town, they'd not be able to see one. As to my stay here, it
  will depend on circumstances, as the continuation of employ and the
  encouragement I may meet with. If I have time and money I shall
  certainly come down in the summer.... Many have been in town, years,
  and have had nothing to do, whilst I, who have been here but two or
  three months, am known and talked of by everybody. To be known, is the
  great thing in London. A man may do ever so well, if nobody knows it,
  it will signify nothing; and among so many thousand and ten thousand
  people, it is no easy matter to get known. I cannot think what gave
  rise to the report which you heard, as I have never had a present from
  anybody in my life. Money is very scarce among everybody, and I only
  desire to get paid for what I do. I have a new method, and make them
  all, or most of them, pay half as soon as I begin the pictures, which
  is a very good method. Brother E. and his wife are very well and will
  be very glad to see Brother and Betty up at the time I mentioned; they
  join in their duty to you and Father, and love to Uncle, Brother and
  sisters, &c., with your affectionate son,

                                         'J. OPIE.

  'Direct to me at Mr. Riccard's, Orange Court, Leicester Fields, London.

  'March 11, 1782.'

In the following year he removed to Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn
Fields; and somewhere about this time became infatuated with the black
eyes and arch smiles of a City solicitor's daughter, one Mary Bunn, of
St. Botolph's, Aldgate, who brought him some money on his marriage with
her at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, 4th December, 1782. It was a foolish
union--she, pretty and giddy, and her husband a blunt, strong-minded,
hard-working artist. He tried to gloss over her follies, being placable
to a degree; but in vain. She at last crowned her faithless career by
eloping with a Mr. John Edwards in 1795, and an Act of divorce left
Opie a free and a happier man. It was _à propos_ of this miserable
affair that Opie once uttered the following grim _bon-mot_. He was
passing the above-named church one day with his quondam friend Godwin,
who was an infidel, when Godwin exclaimed: 'Ah! I was christened at
that church.' 'And I was married in it,' replied Opie; 'they make
unsure work there, for it neither holds in wedlock nor in baptism.'

But at length the crowds of sitters and callers who used to annoy both
Opie and his neighbours began to dwindle away, as the novelty of seeing
that 'nine days' wonder'--a great artist--in

    'The Cornish boy in tin-mines bred
    Whose genius, like his native diamonds, shone
    In secret, till chance gave them to the sun,'

began to wear off; and gave Opie the much-desired opportunity of
pursuing the higher branches of his art. Henceforth he painted less
portraits and more historical compositions; but amongst the former,
even up to the end of his career, we still find some notable subjects,
such as a whole-length of Charles James Fox (which West thought his
best), William Siddons (the husband of the great actress), Fuseli,
Southey, the Poet Laureate,[117] and many others. In 1784 he exhibited
his 'School,' of which Horace Walpole remarked that it was 'Great
nature--the best of his works yet.'

His first great work of the 'historical' school, and one of his very
best, 'The Assassination of James I. of Scotland,' was produced in
1786; as to which a writer in the _Quarterly Review_ for 1866 tells
the following amusing story of Northcote's jealousy of Opie. When the
latter was engaged at Hampstead on this picture (the story is, by the
way, also told of the Rizzio picture), Northcote became alarmed at the
reports which reached him of its extraordinary merit, and accordingly
he paid a visit to Opie's studio in order to judge for himself. 'When
I entered the room,' he said, 'I was astounded. The picture had the
finest effect I ever witnessed; the light on the figures gleamed up
from a trap-door by which the murderers were entering the King's
chamber. "Oh!" said I to myself; "go home, go home; it is all over with
you!" I did go home, and brooded over what I had seen. I could think
of nothing else; it perfectly haunted me. I could not work on my own
pictures for thinking of his. At last, unable to bear it any longer, I
determined to go there again, and when I entered the room I saw, to my
great comfort, that Opie had rubbed all the fine effect out.'

In the following year his next great work, 'The Assassination of David
Rizzio,'[118] was painted, and Opie's claim to be elected an Associate
of the Royal Academy was established, the full honours being accorded
to him the year after. His diploma picture, 'Age and Infancy,' still
hangs on the Academy's walls.

Amongst his other more important works may be named, 'The Presentation
in the Temple,' 'Jephthah's Vow,' 'Young Arthur taken Prisoner,'
'Arthur with Hubert,' 'Belisarius,' 'Juliet in the Garden,' 'The Escape
of Gil Blas' (his last historical work), and 'Musidora.' A very large
proportion of these, and others of Opie's paintings have been engraved.
It may be here mentioned, as an illustration of the prices which
some of Opie's best works fetch, that at the sale of Mr. Jesse Watts
Russell's pictures, at Christie and Manson's, in July, 1875, 'The
Schoolmistress,' from the collection of Mr. Watson Taylor, a large and
important work of several figures--an old lady schoolmistress and her
pupils--painted in emulation of Rembrandt, fetched £787 10s.

Pursuing his career at the Royal Academy, in 1789, on the expulsion
of Barry, the Professor of Painting, on account of his impertinent
remarks upon his brother Academicians, and his generally unsatisfactory
conduct, Opie preferred his claims; but was induced to waive them in
favour of the elder artist, Fuseli. The latter, however, resigned in
1805, and the indisputable claims of Opie to the post were at once
fully and honourably recognised.

Before, however, that event took place, one which had still greater
and happier influence on our artist's professional career and domestic
happiness occurred: in 1798 he had the good fortune to fall in love
at first sight, and, after much coy reluctance on the lady's part, to
secure the heart and hand of the amiable, sprightly, and accomplished
Amelia Alderson, the only child of a Norwich physician, and a relative
of H. P. Briggs, R.A. They were married on the 8th of May ('Flora Day,'
as it is called in Cornwall), she being then twenty-nine years of age,
and her husband thirty-seven. She was much courted in the fashionable
circles of London for her literary and conversational talents, and
numbered Sir Walter Scott, Sir James Mackintosh, Wordsworth and Sydney
Smith among her friends and acquaintances.

When she became a Quakeress (and I fancy that at heart she was always
more or less of one) in 1825, she endeavoured to recall her novels;
but copies of them are still to be met with in many of our libraries.
Indeed, she tells us that she would never have published at all had it
not been for the strong wish of her husband that she should do so.

As regards her novels, or tales, as they should rather be called,
'She can do nothing well,' says Jeffrey, 'that requires to be done
with formality, and therefore has not succeeded in copying either the
concentrated force of weighty and deliberate reason, or the severe
and solemn dignity of majestic virtue. To make amends, however, she
represents admirably everything that is amiable, generous and gentle.'

Of her poetic vein, the following specimen may perhaps be admitted
here:--

  LINES WRITTEN IN 1799, BY MRS. OPIE TO HER HUSBAND, ON HIS HAVING
  PAINTED THE PORTRAIT OF HER FRIEND, MRS. TWISS.

    'Hail to thy pencil! well its glowing art
    Has traced those features painted on my heart;
    Now, though in distant scenes she soon will rove,
    Still shall I here behold the friend I love--
    Still see that smile, "endearing, artless, kind,"
    The eye's mild beam that speaks the candid mind,
    Which sportive oft, yet fearful to offend,
    By humour charms, but never wounds a friend.

    'But in my breast contending feelings rise,
    While this loved semblance fascinates my eyes;
    Now, pleased I mark the painter's skilful line,
    And now, rejoice the skill I mark is _thine_:
    And while I prize the gift by thee bestow'd,
    My heart proclaims, I'm of the giver proud.
    Thus pride and friendship war with equal strife,
    And now the _friend_ exults, and now the WIFE.'

She died on the 2nd December, 1853, eighty-four years of age
(forty-seven years after her husband's death), and was buried in the
same grave with her father, in the Friends' burial-ground, at the
Gilden Croft, Norwich. Her life has been written by her friend, Miss
Brightwell; and a portrait of 'la charmante Madame Opie' (as she was
called in Paris), in her Quakeress's cap and with uplifted eyes full of
gentle ardour, after a medallion by David, is prefixed to that work.
Haydon also (who, by the way, was indebted to Opie for much sound
practical advice in his art) painted her, in her tall black Quakeress's
bonnet, in his great group of the 'Anti-Slavery Convention,' now in the
National Portrait Gallery; and her husband painted her portrait more
than once: an engraving after one of these portraits is prefixed to a
later edition of Miss Brightwell's 'Life.'

To her more refined taste were said to be due not only a superior
delicacy and grace sometimes thought to be found in the female
portraits painted after Opie's second marriage, but also some of the
finer touches in his lectures as Professor of Painting, to which
reference will presently be made. But Mrs. Opie disclaimed the latter
suggestion with all the energy and indignation of which her tranquil
spirit was capable, observing that 'the slight texture of muslin could
as easily assume the consistency of velvet.' About half of Opie's
sitters were ladies; and one of his best early works is a portrait of
Mrs. Delany,[119] now at Hampton Court; it used formerly to hang in the
Royal bedchamber at Windsor. The following contemporary criticism by a
Cornish lady on Opie's work will be interesting to at least some of my
readers:

  _The Hon^{ble}. Mrs. Boscawen to Mrs. Delany._

                                       '26th Sept., 1782.

       *       *       *       *       *

  'Your favoured Opie is still in raptures at the thoughts of Bulstrode
  (the residence of the Duke of Portland). His portrait of Lady
  Jerningham did not _quite_ satisfy me, for I concluded it wou'd be
  perfect, and her _person_, _hands_, _posture_, _spinning-wheel_, all
  _are so_; but the face (or rather countenance) does not _quite_ please
  me.'

To his wife Opie was indebted for the graceful and affectionate
memoir--her 'dearest and last duty'--which was prefixed to his
'Lectures,' which she edited after his death, in 1809. It is said
that he used always to keep in his studio an unfinished portrait of
his wife, with her abundant waves of auburn hair, constantly working
on it in order to obtain that power of delineation of female delicacy
and beauty in which he thought himself deficient. Opie was devotedly
attached to her, and they were most happy in each other's love; the
only point of difference between them being her liking for a gayer
social existence than suited her husband's tastes. Yet he was always
fond of a dinner-party when there was _good talk_, and many such
noteworthy gatherings are described in Holcroft's 'Memoirs.' They had
a memorable trip to Paris together in 1802; the only occasion on which
Opie ever left England, except once before, in 1786, for a short trip
to the picture-galleries in Belgium and Holland. Mrs. Opie was very
fond of sketching in profile all her friends' portraits, of which she
made a large collection, and was altogether a lady of refined tastes as
well as of the most active benevolence. Southey has sketched her in his
'Colloquies,' vol. ii., p. 322; and her friend and biographer has told
us that 'her cheerful heart shone through her bright face, and brought
comfort and pleasure into every house she entered.' Miss Thackeray
(Mrs. Richmond Ritchie) has also included Amelia Opie in her recent
'Book of Sibyls;' and Harriet Martineau has admirably described her in
the 'Biographical Sketches.'


In 1791 Opie had moved to the house in which he resided for the last
sixteen years of his life, No. 8, Berners Street, Oxford Street;[120]
and here he passed what was probably his serenest and happiest days,
overshadowed with only one cloud, and that was one which scarcely
disturbed him, for he attributed it to causes over which he had no
control. I mean his decreasing popularity, which for a short time
waned; but, as we shall see, was at length recovered. Public caprice
no doubt had, as Opie thought, much to do with this; but the novelty
had gone off, and the London world is always on the look-out for new
wonders. His pencil was, notwithstanding, as ever, busy. Alderman
Boydell had formed the idea of a Shakespeare Gallery--a collection of
pictures which should illustrate the works of our greatest dramatist.
Now Shakespeare was, as we have seen, a favourite author with Opie; and
the painter accordingly set to work with a will, adding five pictures
to the series, to which many other eminent artists also contributed.
Amongst them are the following:

  Juliet on her Bed                     Romeo and Juliet.
  Antigonus sworn to destroy Perdita    Winter's Tale.
  Talbot and the Countess of Auvergne}  Henry VI.
  The Incantation Scene              }
  Timon with Phryne and Timandra        Timon of Athens.

To Macklin's 'British Poets and Bible,' and to Bowyer's 'Hume's History
of England,' he also contributed largely. 'The Death of Sapphira' is a
remarkable example of his artistic power.

About this period he must have written the following letter to his
sister, which is perhaps worth inserting--being, as it were, a peep
behind the scenes, affording us a glimpse of his rough, affectionate
nature:

                                        'Nov. 20, 1800.

  'DEAR BETT,[121]

  'What the devil is the reason that thou art in such a fright, indeed
  what should make thee suspect the contrary? My not having written is
  the very thing that ought to have kept thee quiet, for if any accident
  had happened to me thou certainly wouldst have heard of it by me and
  by many others, henceforth I desire thou wilt remember the old saying
  "no news is good news," and not fret thyself because I am lazy and
  don't like to write when I have nothing to say.

  'My dearest Amelia was not so fortunate in coming to town as myself;
  she was overturned in the mail about 30 miles from town, and so
  bruised as to cause her to be lame for a fortnight or three weeks
  after, but she is now I hope perfectly recovered: she desires me to
  give her kindest love to you and mother, and to thank you for your
  presents.... Keep up Mother's spirits and tell her I am very well and
  hope to see her again next summer, and my wife hopes the same. Give my
  love to Mary James,[122] &c., &c., and believe me ever

                             'Affectionately yours,
                                            'JOHN OPIE.

  'Let brother's picture be sent off as soon as possible, and I will
  take care the other shall be sent down as soon as I have time to paint
  one of Amelia to go with it.'

But it is time to speak of his literary talents. Charles James
Fox,[123] Horne Tooke, and Sir James Mackintosh had the highest opinion
of his mental powers. Horne Tooke (whose portrait also Opie painted)
says of him that he spoke in axioms worthy to be remembered; and
Mackintosh observed: 'Had Mr. Opie turned his powers of mind to the
study of philosophy, he would have been one of the first philosophers
of the age. I was never more struck than with his original manner of
thinking and expressing himself in conversation; had he written on the
subject he would probably have thrown more light on the philosophy of
his art than any man living.'

There is a capital short 'Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds' by Opie, written
for Pilkington's 'Dictionary of Painters;' and the accompanying extract
from a letter which he addressed to one of the periodicals on the
subject of a grand national memorial to the triumphs of the British
fleet, may serve as a specimen of his powerful, glowing style. Opie
proposed a huge building in which everything connected with the subject
might be displayed--including statues of our naval heroes, surrounded
by pictorial representations of their achievements.

'What an effect,' he says, 'might a design like this, happily planned
and executed, produce! How magnificent, how instructive it might be
made! How entertaining to trace down from the earliest records of our
history the gradual increase of our navy! to remark the different
stages of its growth from a few simple canoes, in its infancy, to the
stupendous magnitude of a hundred first-rate men-of-war, miracles of
the mechanic arts, proudly bearing Britain's thunder! the bulwarks of
England! the glory of Englishmen, and the terror and admiration of the
world! How flattering to the imagination to anticipate the pleasure of
walking round such an edifice, and surveying the different subjects
depicted on its walls! Battles under all varied circumstances of day,
night, moonlight, storm, and calm!--the effects of fire, water, wind
and smoke mingled in terrific confusion. In the midst, British Valour
triumphantly bearing down all opposition, accompanied by Humanity,
equally daring and ready to succour the vanquished foe! Discoveries, in
which we see delineated the strange figures and still stranger costume
of nations till then unknown, and where the face of Nature herself is
exhibited under a new and surprising aspect. Then to turn and behold
the statues and portraits of the enterprising commanders and leaders
in the expeditions recorded, and compare their different countenances:
here a Drake and an Anson! there a Blake, a Hawke, a Boscawen, and a
Cook!'

To me these enthusiastic sentences have something of the ring of a
sea-song of Dibdin's; and it is pleasant to think that the idea has
been carried out in the Painted Hall at Greenwich Hospital.


His Lectures before the Royal Academy (prepared with a severity of
labour which probably shortened his life), are, however, the works by
which his literary fame will be handed down to posterity. Sandby tells
us that Opie had, shortly before his appointment to his Professorship,
delivered some lectures on Art at the Royal Institution; but though
they were generally thought good, and were numerously and fashionably
attended (that sour critic, Allan Cunningham, by the way, calls
them 'confused, abrupt, and unmethodical'), Opie was himself much
dissatisfied with them, and would not complete the intended course. He
was also concerned in a scheme, in conjunction with West and Flaxman,
for establishing a 'Gallery of Honour,' under the sanction of the Royal
Academy, for the encouragement and reward of all those who contributed
to the higher walks of art. And he is further said to have projected a
colossal statue of Britannia, to be erected in some prominent position
in the Isle of Wight, as an alternative mode of commemorating the naval
victories of Great Britain. Northcote, again (whom, it may be observed,
Wolcot, as Opie's patron, much abused), was associated with Opie in 'a
project of getting paintings into St. Paul's,' which they hoped 'would
tend to raise the drooping head, or rather the almost expiring art, of
painting;' and to this project the Bishop of London gave his assent.

Opie's 'Discourses on Painting' were delivered before the Royal Academy
in 1807.[124] His scheme included six: four on the practical aspect of
the subject, viz., 'Design or Drawing,' 'Colouring,' 'Chiaroscuro,' and
'Composition;' and two on the intellectual side, viz. 'Invention' and
'Expression.' The last of the series in each division, viz. those on
'Composition' and 'Expression,' he did not live to complete. I propose
to give as characteristic a short specimen as I can select from each
of the four which Opie delivered,[125] merely premising that they
were enthusiastically received, and that their author was, for once,
satisfied with his work, and so elated by his success that he could not
sleep. Even Allan Cunningham admitted: 'A passage such as this would
reflect credit on any professor the Academy ever possessed.'

In his first lecture, on 'Design or Drawing,' after insisting on the
absolute necessity for hard study of anatomy, with constant practice so
as to insure accurate drawing, without which, whatever may be the other
merits of the work, 'when the tide of taste rises, and the winds of
criticism bluster and beat upon it, the showy but ill-founded edifice
must quickly be swept away, or swallowed up and forgotten for ever,' he
goes on to say:

  'These remarks are the more necessary, as it must be confessed that
  the strength of the English painters never lay so much as it ought in
  _design_; and now perhaps, more than ever, they seem devoted to the
  charms of colour and effect, and captivate by the mere penmanship of
  the art--the empty legerdemain of the pencil.

  'But if the English artist runs counter in this instance to the
  established character of his country, and prefers the superficial to
  the solid attainments in art, has he not many excuses? May it not in
  great measure be attributed to the general frivolity and meanness of
  the subjects he is called upon to treat? to the inordinate rage for
  portrait-painting (a more respectable kind of caricature), by which
  he is for ever condemned to study and copy the wretched defects, and
  conform to the still more wretched prejudices, of every tasteless and
  ignorant individual, however in form, features, and mind, utterly
  hostile to all ideas of character, expression, or sentiment? And may
  it not in part be attributed to the necessity he is under of painting
  always with reference to the exhibition? In a crowd he that talks
  loudest, not he that talks best, is surest of commanding attention;
  and in an exhibition he that does not attract the eye does nothing.
  But however plausible these excuses, it becomes the true painter to
  consider that they will avail nothing before the tribunal of the
  world and posterity. Keeping the true end of Art in view, he must
  rise superior to the prejudices, disregard the applause, and contemn
  the censure of corrupt and incompetent judges; far from aiming to be
  fashionable, it must be his object to reform, and not to flatter--to
  teach, and not to please--if he aspires, like Zeuxis, to paint for
  eternity.'

The spirit of this passage will, I think, enable us to understand how
irksome mere portrait-painting must always have been to our professor;
and its precepts might be laid to heart even by the artists of the
close of this nineteenth century.

In the lecture on 'Invention' the following passage seems to me worthy
of being reproduced. He observed that both the poet and the painter
have 'something more to do than to illustrate, explain, or fill the
chasms of history or tradition;' they must both first penetrate
thoroughly into the subject, and then mould it anew.

  'Each adopts a chain of circumstances for the most part inapplicable
  in the case of the other; each avails himself of their common
  privilege of "daring everything to accomplish his end," not scrupling
  on some occasions to run counter, if necessary, even to matter of
  fact; for though most strictly bound to the observance of truth and
  probability, these are obviously very different from such as is
  required in _history_; his truth is the truth of _effect_, and his
  probability the perfect _harmony_ and _congruity_ of all the parts of
  his story, and their fitness to bring about the intended effect--that
  of striking the imagination, touching the passions, and developing in
  the most forcible manner the leading sentiment of the subject.'

Much would naturally be expected from Opie when he came to treat of
'Chiaroscuro,' for it was one of his strong points. West said of him:
'He painted what he saw in the most masterly manner, and he varied
little from it. _He saw nature in one point more distinctly and
forcibly than any painter that ever lived._ The truth of colour as
conveyed to the eye through the atmosphere, by which the distance of
every object is ascertained, was never better expressed than by him.'
And the following fine description of Opie's idea of this recondite
branch of art accordingly seems to me worthy of the painter and writer:

  'Light and shade must be allowed to be the creator of body and space.
  In addition to this, if properly managed, it contributes infinitely to
  expression and sentiment; it lulls by breadth and gentle gradation,
  strikes by contrast, and rouses by abrupt transition. All that is
  grave, impressive, awful, mysterious, sublime, or dreadful in nature,
  is really connected with IT. All poetic scenery, real or imaginary,
  "of forests and enchantments drear," where more is meant than is
  expressed; all the effects of solemn twilight and visionary obscurity
  that flings half an image on the aching sight; all the terrors
  of storm and the horrors of conflagration are indebted to IT for
  representation on canvas; IT is the medium of enchanting softness and
  repose in the works of some painters, and the vehicle by which others
  have risen to sublimity in spite of the want of almost every other
  excellence.'

We now come to his last lecture, that on 'Colour,' and in it note this
felicitous, nay poetic, passage:

  'Colour, the peculiar object of the most delightful of our senses, is
  associated in our minds with all that is rare, precious, delicate,
  and magnificent in nature. A fine complexion, in the language of
  the poet, is the dye of love, and the hint of something celestial;
  the ruby, the rose, the diamond, the youthful blush, the orient
  morning, and the variegated splendour of the setting sun, consist
  of, or owe their charms principally to, _colour_. To the sight it
  is the index of gaiety, richness, warmth, and animation; and should
  the most experienced artist, by design alone, attempt to represent
  the tender freshness of spring, the fervid vivacity of summer, or
  the mellow abundance of autumn, what must be his success? _Colouring
  is the sunshine of art_, that clothes poverty in smiles, rendering
  the prospect of barrenness itself agreeable, while it heightens the
  interest and doubles the charms of beauty.'

The next extract which I shall make will be the best answer to some
cavillers who used to aver that Opie was unwilling to admit excellence
in the works of other artists:

  'Like Michael Angelo in design, Titian in colouring may be regarded
  as the father of modern art. He first discovered and unfolded all its
  charms, saw the true end of imitation, showed what to aim at, when
  to labour, and where to stop; and united breadth and softness to the
  proper degree of finish. He first dared all its depths, contrasted
  all its oppositions, and taught COLOUR to glow and palpitate with all
  the warmth and tenderness of real life: free from tiresome detail
  or disgusting minutiæ, he rendered the roses and lilies of youth,
  the more ensanguined brown of manhood, and the pallid coldness of
  age with truth and precision; and to every material object, hard or
  soft, rough or smooth, bright or obscure, opaque or transparent, his
  pencil imparted its true quality and appearance to the eye, with all
  the force of harmony and light, shade, middle tint and reflection; by
  which he so relieved, rounded, and connected the whole, that we are
  almost irresistibly tempted to apply the test of another sense, and
  exclaim

    '"Art thou not, pleasing vision! sensible
    To feeling as to sight?"'

But the too industrious artist's health was already beginning to break
down. Exactly one calendar month passed away, and there

    'Came the blind Fury with abhorred shears
    And slit the thin-spun life--'

the lecturer was silent after the delivery of the foregoing lecture;
and his busy pencil at length idle. John Opie died, childless, in the
house in Berners Street where he had lived for sixteen years, in
the forty-sixth year of his age. He had loving nurses in his devoted
wife and a most affectionate sister; he had also the advantage of no
less than six medical attendants, who saw him daily--frequently three
or four times a day. But the exact nature of his illness seems not
to have been quite understood,[126] and all was in vain; he lingered
awhile, and died, as he had lived, a painter. His friend and pupil,
Henry Thomson, R.A.,[127] had been called in to complete the background
and robes of one of Opie's finest portraits, for the forthcoming
Exhibition. It was a likeness of the Duke of Gloucester. 'It wants
more colour in the background,' said Opie, in the intervals of his
deathbed delirium. More was added, but he continued to express himself
dissatisfied:--the delirium returned; and he continued (in imagination)
at his easel, until he breathed his last on the 9th April, 1807.

And his prophecy as to his place of burial was fulfilled: 'Aye, girl,'
he once said to his sister, 'I, too, shall be buried at St. Paul's.'
There he was laid on the 20th April (close to Barry), in the crypt, by
the side of a yet more illustrious artist from the West-country,--Sir
Joshua Reynolds. Benjamin West's remains followed in 1820. Vandyke had
long before been buried near the same spot. Fuseli, and Lawrence, and
Turner, followed them. Amongst the distinguished men who were his
pall-bearers were two eminent Cornishmen, Lord De Dunstanville and Sir
John St. Aubyn, his friends, and (the former especially) his patrons.

We have seen something of Opie's career as an artist, and of his grasp
as a writer: it remains to say something of his private character. The
predominant features of it seem to me to be a lofty, unselfish ambition
for excellence, a deep earnestness and stern truthfulness combined
with a most affectionate placable disposition, a generous heart, and
no inconsiderable sense of humour. He was never idle for a moment, his
wife says--he painted all day long, and grudged himself the shortest
holiday; but he never made sufficient progress to satisfy himself, and
would sometimes exclaim: 'I shall never, never make a painter.' As in
his youth, so in his manhood, he was liable to fits of depression,
from one of which he especially suffered during a gloomy three months
at the end of the year 1802, when commissions for a short while came
in slowly. He recovered his spirits, however, at the beginning of the
following year, when more work came to him, and from that time to the
very last he was full of commissions. The last work he finished was a
head of Miranda, and it was one of his best.

His tastes were simple, and his ambition (except as to his art) was
moderate. To save 'a certain sum,' Mrs. Opie tells us, in order that he
might keep a horse, and collect a good library which he could study at
his leisure, was the limit of his desires.

A few words may be expected as to Opie's personal appearance and
manners. As to the former, his bold, homely, melancholy features, noble
forehead and penetrating eye--the 'index' to his mind--are tolerably
familiar to us from the fact of his having several times painted his
own portrait--Mr. Rogers catalogues more than twenty. One of the best
with which I am acquainted is, I think, that engraved in mezzotint by
S. W. Reynolds, and selected by Mrs. Opie to prefix to her edition of
her husband's 'Lectures;'[128] but that presented by his widow to the
Royal Cornwall Polytechnic Society, Falmouth, is also a very fine one.
There is another portrait, painted by himself when a youth, at the
National Portrait Gallery; and there is one at Dulwich. And Opie was
caricatured, with six other R.A.'s, in Gillray's 'Titianus Redivivus,
or the Seven Wise Men consulting the Venetian Oracle.' He was always
somewhat careless of his personal appearance, and frugal in his mode
of life. For drawing-room society he had no liking or capacity; but,
as we have seen, he enjoyed a good dinner-party, where sterling
conversation went on, and to which he was able and ready to contribute
his quota--sometimes brusquely enough. But on this point his friend
Boaden should be heard:

'I know that, to some, his frank open conduct appeared uncalled for;
nay, I have even heard it termed coarse; but the coarse man is he who
says a thing in bad language, and not he who, with a noble simplicity,
comes immediately to the point, and, when he has obtained conviction,
in the plainest words delivers his judgment. If I were to attempt
to characterize him in one word (I should most certainly use that
word to the honour of our species) it would be that he was a genuine
ENGLISHMAN--for affectation he despised, and flattery he abhorred.' It
may be added that he regarded with utter indifference any attacks which
might be made on his private or professional character.

His sledge-hammer style of expression had doubtless something to do
with the cessation of intimate relations which took place between old
Wolcot and himself. Opie was not the sort of man to be _patronized_,
even by a 'Peter Pindar.'

Most of his great works live to speak for themselves. Some of the
finest examples are at Petworth; and Dr. Waagen pronounces these
almost equal to Sir Joshua's. In energy of style, breadth, purity of
colour, harmony of tone, and exquisite chiaroscuro, they stand very
high. His portraits especially were real and lifelike, but they were
not without their defects, and, as we see them now, are much marred by
his too copious use of asphaltum: Thackeray, in his 'Four Georges,'
even refers to them as 'Opie's pitchy canvases.' His historical works
are somewhat deficient in imagination; and his portraits sometimes
lack dignity as well as delicacy; whilst his style, partaking too much
of his own temperament, and even of his personal appearance, was apt
to run in a sombre vein. But a brother R.A., who knew him well--J.
Northcote, a friendly rival, and to some extent his imitator--wrote
of him: 'The toils and difficulties of his profession were by him
considered as matters of honourable and delightful contest; and it
might be said of him that _he did not so much paint to live, as live
to paint_.[129] He was studious, yet not severe; he was eminent, yet
not vain; his disposition so tranquil and forgiving that it was the
reverse of every tincture of sour or vindictive, and what to some might
seem roughness of manner, was only the effect of an honest indignation
towards that which he conceived to be error.' Northcote would often
exclaim to those whom he esteemed, 'How I wish you had known Opie!'

And his friend Sir Martin Archer Shee, a President of the Royal
Academy, paid this final tribute to his memory:

    'His vigorous pencil in pursuit of art
    Disdain'd to dwell on each minuter part;
    Impressive force--impartial truth he sought,
    And travell'd in no beaten track of thought.
    Unlike the servile herd, whom we behold
    Casting their drossy ore in fashion's mould;
    _His_ metal by no common die is known,
    The coin is sterling--and the stamp _his own_.'

It may be interesting to some readers to know where the best Opies
are now to be found in Cornwall; and for information on this point I
am indebted to the following extract from a letter from my friend Mr.
Edward Opie, of Plymouth:

  'As I have mentioned where Opies are _not_ to be found, I ought to
  state where they _are_--I mean in Cornwall, if not removed lately. Sir
  John St. Aubyn has the greatest number--I think seven or eight. These
  include two portraits of his grandfather, Sir J. St. Aubyn; one of
  his grandmother; one of Captain James; one of Miss Bunn;[130] one of
  Dolly Pentreath; and one--the best of all--of Mrs. Bell, housekeeper
  at Clowance. This last was much admired at one of the R.A. Winter
  Exhibitions. Lady Falmouth told me she had three, if not four, Opies.
  Mrs. Boscawen, you know, was an early patroness of the painter, and
  invited him to breakfast, when old Mr. Polwhele sent him into the
  kitchen. The Hon. Mrs. Gilbert has four, including a beggar;--another
  beggar is at Enys. Mrs. J. M. Williams, at Carhayes, has two, both
  fancy pictures. At Scorrier, Mr. G. Williams has two. At Penrose, Mr.
  Rogers's, there are two or three. At Prideaux Place, Mr. Prideaux
  Brune's, there are two; one being a dog's head, the other his own
  portrait. At Tregullow there are two, one being his mother with
  Bible;--there are several copies of this.'

FOOTNOTES:

[112] On an examination of the list of the members, it will be found
that Cornwall has produced about the usual average of the English
counties.

[113] Opie painted Bone's portrait, and presented it to him, 1795; also
one of Bartolozzi, the engraver, which is preserved in the National
Portrait Gallery.

[114] A blowing-house is a building where tin ore was smelted prior
to the construction of the larger smelting-works. The first Mrs.
Opie had the name changed to one more consonant with her notions of
connubial felicity. Opie's second wife thus sketched it in a letter
dated 'St. Agnes, 11th mo. 26th, 1832:' 'Yesterday I dined at Harmony
Cot, where my husband and all the family were born and bred. It is a
most sequestered cottage, whitewashed and thatched; a hill rising high
above it, and another in front; trees and flower-beds before it, which
in summer must make it a pretty spot. _Now_ it is not a tempting abode;
but there are two good rooms, and I am glad I have seen it.'

[115] When Polwhele wrote, some seventy or eighty years ago, this
picture was in the possession of Richard Hoskins, Esq., of Carennis.

[116] Mr. Rogers, in his 'Opie and his Works,' has thus classified the
760 works catalogued:

  Portraits (counting each head in family groups)  508
  Sacred Subjects                                   22
  Historical                                        17
  Shakespeare                                       11
  Poetical and Fancy                               134
  Landscape                                          5
  Supplementary and addenda (various)               63
                                                  ----
                                                   760

He exhibited altogether 143 pictures at the Royal Academy.

[117] Writing to Southey, from Norwich, 3rd June, 1806, William Taylor
says, 'Opie is soon to be knighted;' and in 1807 he says that Opie had
been at the point of death from abdominal paralysis--probably caused by
the absorption into his system of lead-vapours from his paints.

[118] Mrs. Gilbert says that her father got 250 guineas for engraving
this picture.

[119] Opie painted a _replica_ of Mrs. Delany's portrait for the
Countess of Bute, for which Horace Walpole designed a frame; and I
confess these paintings appear to me to refute entirely the statement
that Opie's female portraits were unsuccessful.

[120] Lonsdale the painter afterwards occupied it: it now forms part of
an hotel.

[121] Betty Opie was a remarkably shrewd and sagacious old lady. She
gave my father most entertaining accounts of her visit to London, when
she went up to see 'Jan,' as she called her illustrious brother, and
especially of an escapade of hers at the British Museum, where, having
accidentally broken off the finger of a mummy, she brought it home to
her brother, who ground it down into a fine brown paint.

[122] An old sweetheart of his, whose portrait he once painted in the
act of milking a cow.

[123] When Opie was painting Charles James Fox's portrait, worried by
many and various criticisms, Fox said, 'Don't attend to _them_; you
_must_ know best.'

[124] In this year he contributed to the Exhibition six portraits, one
of them being that of Dr. Samuel Parr.

[125] That on 'Design' was delivered on 16th Feb., 1807, the others
followed on 23rd Feb., 2nd March, and 9th March.

[126] According to his sister's account, the _post-mortem_ examination
disclosed 'a bladder on the brain'; but Dr. Sayer thought the patient's
malady was a species of painter's colic.

[127] Another of his pupils was John Cawse, the well-known subject
and portrait painter, of whose works the writer possesses an example.
Theophilus Clarke, A.R.A., was another of Opie's pupils.

[128] I fancy, notwithstanding the thin disguise of the title of the
poem, that Mrs. Opie must have been thinking of this portrait when she
wrote the following lines:

    'To me how dear this twilight hour,
      Cheered by the faggot's varying blaze!
    If this be mine, I ask no more
      On morn's refulgent light to gaze:

    'For now, while on HIS glowing cheek
      I see the fire's red radiance fall,
    The darkest seat I softly seek,
      And gaze on HIM, unseen by all.

    'His folded arms, his studious brow,
      His thoughtful eye, _unmarked_, I see;
    Nor could his voice or words bestow
      So dear, so true a joy on me.'

[129] When a lad, Opie used to say that he loved painting 'better than
bread and meat.' Northcote was himself another of our West-country
artists; he was born at Plymouth, close to the Cornish border.

[130] Opie also painted his first wife's portrait with that of
the famous Conjuror Chamberlain. It was at one time in Sir Joshua
Reynolds's Collection ('The lost Opie'), and afterwards passed into the
hands of Sir Charles Bell.




_THE ST. AUBYNS OF CLOWANCE AND THE MOUNT._




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_THE ST. AUBYNS OF CLOWANCE AND THE MOUNT._

  'A Wit's a feather, and a Chief a rod;--
  An HONEST MAN'S the noblest work of God.'

                                POPE: _Essay on Man_.


'This gentle and knightly family,' as Hals calls them, are amongst
the few examples of eminent Cornishmen who, like the Bevills, the
Grenvilles, the Lanyons, the Chamonds, the Bassets, and others, were of
Norman, or at least of French, origin.

In the 'Chronicum Johannis Brompton' (quoted by John Henneker) we read:

    'Vous que desyrez assaver
    Le nons de Grauntz de la mer,
    Que vindrent od le Conquerour,
    William Bastard de graunt vigoure,

       *       *       *       *       *

    Seint Aubyn, et Seynt Omer,
    Seynt Filbert Fyens, et Gomer.'

Leland says that St. Albin came out of Brittany; and Camden, in his
'Remains,' names Plaus as the place of their origin; according,
however, to other authorities, St. Aubin du Cormier in Brittany enjoys
this distinction. Of Armorican extraction, they were therefore akin
to Cornishmen, though abiding in 'Little Britain.' Possibly the name
was not an uncommon one; and either of the two above surmises may be
correct. There are now upwards of thirty French Communes into which
the name of St. Aubin enters: to say nothing of the picturesque little
village in Jersey of that name, which fringes the shores of St. Aubin's
Bay.

Their first English home seems to have been in Somersetshire; and
here, in the middle of the fourteenth century, we find Guy de St.
Aubyn, or Albin, settled at Alfoxton. It seems to have been he who, by
his marriage with Eleanor Knoville, first obtained a footing on the
Cornish soil; and, according to Tonkin, it was his grandson, Geffrey,
who took up his abode at Clowance on the latter's marriage with
Elizabeth Kymyell of Kymyell, the sole heir of Piers Kymyell and his
wife, a daughter of--as Tonkin assures us, 'an old and notable Cornish
family'--the house of Sergeaux, or Seriseaux. Their son Geffrey has a
monument in Crowan church, thus inscribed:

  'Hic jacent Galfridus Seynt aubyn, Et Alicia uxor ejus, filia et heres
  Johannes Tremure de Iaunebet, Armigeri, qui quidem Galfridus obiit
  tertio die mensis Octobris, Anno Domini, Mill'imo cccc^o; Alicia obiit
  Anno Domini Mill'imo cccc^o; quorum Animabus propicietur deus, Amen.
  Jhu mercy, lady help.'

Since the time of the first Geffrey, the St. Aubyns, for nearly
thirty descents, have dwelt at their pleasantly situated seat[131] at
Clowance, 'the ancient house of an ancient gentleman,' as Norden calls
it; though the present mansion dates only from the early part of the
present century.

From the days of Richard II., the St. Aubyns have frequently filled the
post of High Sheriff of Cornwall, and have also served their country as
Members of Parliament and Justices of the Peace. For several descents
they have been Baronets, until at last the name of 'Sir John St. Aubyn,
Bart., M.P.,' has become in Cornwall a 'household word.'

Of the earlier members of the family I have found little of interest,
unless, indeed, it be the remarkable physique of one of them, Sir
Mauger de St. Albin, who lived at Barnton; in Risdon's 'Devonshire,'
it is stated that he was a man of enormous strength and stature, as is
evidenced by a huge stone thrown by him to a great distance, and by his
very large effigy on a tomb in the church.

On their settling in Cornwall, the St. Aubyns followed the accustomed
(perhaps the almost inevitable) practice of intermarrying with the
old county families--the Tremeres, the Trethurfes, the Trenowiths,
the Grenvilles of Stow; and, in later times, with the Arundells, the
Godolphins, the Pendarveses, the Killigrews, the Bullers, the Bassets,
the Prideauxes, and the Molesworths.

Of the fruit of one of the pre-Reformation marriages--namely, that
of Thomas St. Aubyn (who was Sheriff of Cornwall in 1545) with Mary,
fourth daughter of Thomas Grenville of Stow, we have a touching little
notice in the MSS. Lisle papers preserved at the Public Record Office.
Thomas is writing to his sister-in-law, Honor Grenville, Viscountess
Lisle; and the following passage occurs in his letter:

  'My daughter Phelyp is departyd on Crstmas Day, Almyghtie (God) pardon
  her soule; and my wyffe hath take grette discofort therbye; but, I
  thank our Lord, she doth take it better way, and thankyth god of his
  sending.'

From this marriage of Thomas St. Aubyn with Mary Grenville, descended
his grandson, Thomas,--the St. Aubyn of Carew's days--of whom that
historian of his native county wrote thus:

  'Saintabin, whose very name (besides the Conquest roll) deduceth his
  first ancestors out of France. His grandfather married Greinvile;
  his father, one of Whittington's coheirs: which latter couple, in
  a long and peaceable date of years, exercised a kind, liberal, and
  never-discontinued hospitality. He himself took to wife the daughter
  of Mallet; and with ripe knowledge, and sound judgment, dischargeth
  the place which he beareth in his country.'

I find nothing further of general interest touching the family until
we come to the stirring times of the Civil War--a conflict in which
Cornwall took, as is well known, a distinguished part. Until that
period the St. Aubyns seem to have been a thriving and distinguished
family, serving their country in the various capacities already
mentioned, and 'gathering house to house, and vineyard to vineyard.'
Their possessions were in almost every part of the county: for
instance, Lysons (who was indebted to the fifth Sir John St. Aubyn
for the loan of Borlase's MS. folio of notes on Cornwall) says that,
amongst other properties, 'The manor of Godolphin is still held of
Sir John St. Aubyn, as of his manor of Lambourne, by the payment of
a gammon of bacon;' and, that the manors of Berippa and Penpons were
in the possession of the St. Aubyns; also a moiety of the manor of
Gaverigan in St. Columb Major, the manor of Argallez or Arrallas in
St. Enoder, of Trelowith in St. Erth, of half of Treninick in St.
Gorran, Kimiel and Butsava in Paul, and Mayon in Sennen; they were
also impropriators of the great tithes of Crowan, and patrons of the
Vicarage; and they held a moiety of the advowson of the rectory of
Duloe. The revenues of the nunnery of Clares, which formerly stood near
the junction of Boscawen and Lemon Streets, Truro, came (according to
Hals) into the possession of Sir John Seyntaubin and others; and again,
the Priory of Tywardreath, so Davies Gilbert tells us, 'was the joint
property of the St. Aubyns, and the Pendarveses of Roscrow.'


To return to the family at the time of the great struggle between the
King and his Parliament. Most of the Cornish gentry sided, as is well
known, with the King, and behaved with such marked valour and success
as to elicit from Charles the well-known letter of thanks which still
hangs in many of the churches in the county. One of the St. Aubyns of
the day,[132] however, seems, according to Hals, to have thrown in his
lot with the Parliament; he was at the siege of Plymouth, in 1644; and
was present at the defeat of his party at the battle of Braddock Down,
near Lostwithiel.

Hals tells us that, after the rout of the Roundheads, 'it was resolved
by Essex's council that he should desert his army, and, privately by
night, in a boat, go down the river to Fowey, and from thence take
ship for Plymouth; which expedient was accordingly put in execution,
and the General Essex, the Lord Robartes, and some others, the next
day got into Plymouth, being the 31st August, 1644. On the same day
Sir William Balfour, with two thousand five hundred of the Parliament
horse, with divers officers, viz., Colonel Nicholas Boscawen, his
Lieutenant Colonel James Hals, of Merther, Henry Courtenay, of St.
Bennet's in Lanyvet, _Colonel John Seyntaubyn, of Clowans_, and his
Lieutenant Colonel Braddon, Colonel Carter, and several other officers
and gentlemen of quality, early in the morning forced their passage
over St. Winnow, Boconnock, and Braddock Downs, though the body of the
King's army, which lay encamped on the heath in those places, maugre
all opposition to the contrary; from thence they rode to Leskeard, from
thence to Saltash Passage, and from thence to Plymouth safely the same
day, amidst their own garrison and confederates.'

Whether from conviction, or from a wish to be well with either party in
the State--whichever might succeed--it seems pretty clear that another
member of the family, Thomas, espoused the cause of the Royalists.
His monument in Crowan Church so describes him; and in the spring of
1882 I saw, on the walls of the principal staircase at Clowance, his
portrait--hard, but apparently faithful--in Cavalier costume.

Of the second baronet I find nothing to note, except that he was
Sheriff of Cornwall in 1705.


But the third[133] Sir John St. Aubyn, the sturdy little Cornish
baronet--of whom Walpole said, 'all these men (his opponents in
Parliament) have their price except him'--claims more of our attention
than, perhaps, any other member of the family. He was born on 27th
September, 1696, and we get a glimpse of his early life, when at Exeter
College, Oxford, in the following extract from a letter written by his
friend and fellow-collegian, Borlase, in 1772, to a lady in London.
The MS. is amongst that collection at Castle Horneck, which formed the
subject of an interesting article[134] in the _Quarterly Review_, vol.
139; and the following extract describes the homeward journey of the
two young fellows. A hundred years ago this must have been a somewhat
formidable undertaking; and we almost regret that the chronicler did
not furnish us with more details than he has done:

  '1772 * * * Sometimes,' writes Borlase, 'we met with a landlord in
  men's clothes, but for the most part we discovered that the men had
  dropt their prerogation, and we found the supreme authority over
  the inns lodged in gowns and petticoats. Ordered by Sir John not to
  write one word of the pretty black-ey'd girl at Bridport, but to
  go on with the particulars of our journey. I think I am at liberty
  to tell you of a misfortune which happened to me at Launceston. As
  we were passing though that fatal town (I am heartily sorry I have
  forgot what day of the month 'twas), but, however, as we were passing
  through, whom should we see at the door of an inn but our landlord's
  daughter! Whether Sir John was dry and thirsty or not I can't tell,
  but we all agreed to take our pint at the door, and being men of no
  little gallantry because just come from town, we were talking very
  smartly, as you may imagine, to the girl who filled the wine, when
  all of a sudden, my unfortunate eyes happened to fix upon a green
  ribbon that hung playing to-and-fro with the air a little lower than
  it should. As I was the only person that discovered it, I told the
  lady I was apprehensive she would lose that pretty ribbon if she did
  not withdraw. I was then on horseback, and, to my great confusion, had
  not the presence of mind to alight and take care of it myself, upon
  which Sir John has so teased and bantered me that I have had no rest
  ever since. I beg you would write Sir John, and let him know that such
  a misfortune deserves rather pity than upbraidings. And now, Madam, I
  suppose you are almost as tired with our journey as we are, or (to go
  as far as possible with the comparison) as three of Sir John's horses,
  which we left upon the road.'

The writer of the article goes on to say:

       *       *       *       *       *

  'We must now turn away for a moment from the pleasant scenes at
  Ludgvan, and follow Borlase's friend of college days as he enters
  the chapel at St. Stephen's--the youngest member, perhaps, of that
  distinguished assembly. Born in the year 1700, Sir John St. Aubyn was
  only just of age when, in 1722, he was returned to Parliament for his
  native county. Different indeed, yet in one respect alike, had been
  the destinies of the friends since we left them after their journey
  in the beginning of the year. Parting, the one to mix in the affairs
  of State in times the most perplexing, the other to the peaceful
  seclusion of his country parsonage; each had, nevertheless, marked
  out for himself a path of mental activity. That the confidence of his
  country, though entrusted to so young a man, had not been misplaced,
  may be judged from an extract in the correspondence before us. Thus, a
  gentleman writing from London, March 2nd, 1726, observes: "Sir R.----
  [Sir Robert Walpole] this Session has met with a strong opposition in
  the House of Commons; Sir John St. Aubyn has gained a great reputation
  in that House, and the opinions of our politicians in relation to war
  or peace are as different as their faces."

  'A year or two later an incident in Cornish history gave him an
  opportunity of making himself more than ever beloved at home. In
  1727, when, as Hume tells us, "the Courts of France and Spain were
  perfectly reconciled, and all Europe was freed from the calamities of
  war, the peace of Great Britain was disturbed by tumults amongst the
  tinners of Cornwall, who, being provoked by a scarcity of corn, rose
  in arms and plundered the granaries of the county." At this time it
  happened that Sir John had just completed a new pier at the Mount,
  to facilitate the exportation of tin, which was shipped in large
  quantities at that place.[135] The consequence was that the tinners
  congregated in considerable numbers; the place became a rendezvous
  for malcontents, and fresh riots broke out. Very serious consequences
  were apprehended, and what might actually have happened none can say,
  had it not been that the magnanimous spirit and unselfish patriotism
  of the young statesman showed itself in a measure of local policy
  which doubly endeared him to his countrymen. He "forthwith advanced
  a considerable sum of money to the tinners, by which they were saved
  from starving, or the necessity of plundering their neighbours."
  "Constant in his attendance and application to the business of the
  House of Commons," writes Borlase, in a note attached to the St.
  Aubyn pedigree, "he soon learnt to speak well, but spoke seldom, and
  never but on points of consequence. He was heard with pleasure by
  his friends, and with respect by others." In 1734 he seconded the
  repeal of the Septennial Act, in a speech which will be found in the
  "Handy Book of British Eloquence."'

And here we must leave the _Quarterly_ Reviewer for awhile, in order
to give a sample of Sir John's oratorical powers. I quote from the
report, in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for 1734, of his speech of the
13th March, on seconding Mr. Bromley's motion.

Sir John began by vigorously sketching the characters of those
monarchs who were fond of 'Long Parliaments,' and thus referred to the
Parliaments of Charles II., who, he said, 'naturally took a surfeit of
Parliaments in his Father's time, and was therefore extremely desirous
to lay them aside. But this was a scheme impracticable. However, in
effect he did so, for he obtained a Parliament, which by its long
Duration, like an army of Veterans, became so exactly disciplined to
his own Measures, that they knew no other command but from that Person
who gave them their Pay.

  'This was a safe and a most ingenious way of enslaving a Nation. It
  was very well known that Arbitrary Power, if it was open and avowed,
  would never prevail here. The people were therefore amused with the
  Specious Form of their Antient Constitution; it existed, indeed, in
  their Fancy; but, like a mere Phantom, had no Substance nor Reality
  in it, for the Power, the Authority, the Dignity of Parliament were
  wholly lost. This was that remarkable Parliament which so justly
  obtained the opprobrious Name of "Model," from which, I believe, some
  Later Parliaments have been exactly copied.'

He then went on to describe the evils of Long Parliaments, saying:

  'But this must be the Work of Time. Corruption is of so base a
  Nature, that at first sight it is extremely shocking. Hardly anyone
  has submitted to it all at once. His Disposition must be previously
  understood; the particular Bait must be found out with which he is to
  be allured; and, after all, it is not without many struggles that he
  surrenders his Virtue. Indeed, there are some who will at once plunge
  themselves over Head and Ears into any base Action; but the generality
  of mankind are of a more cautious Nature, and will proceed only by
  some leisurely Degrees. One or two perhaps have deserted their Colours
  the first Campaign; some have done it in a second. But a great many
  who have not that eager Disposition to Vice will wait till a Third.

  'For this reason, Short Parliaments have been less Corrupt than Long
  Ones; they are observed, like Streams of Water, always to grow more
  impure the greater Distance they run from the Fountain-head.'

The independent speaker finished with this spirited peroration:

  'The Power of the Crown is very justly apprehended to be growing to a
  monstrous--I should have said, too great--a Size, and several Methods
  have been unsuccessfully proposed for restraining it within due Bounds.

  'But our Disease, I fear, is of a complicated Nature, and I think
  that this Motion is wisely intended to remove the first and Principal
  Disorder. Give the people their antient Right of frequent new
  Elections; That will restore the decay'd Authority of Parliament, and
  will put our Constitution into a natural Condition of working out
  her Cure. Sir, upon the whole I am of opinion that I can't express a
  greater Zeal for his Majesty, for the Liberties of the People, or the
  Honour and Dignity of this House, than in seconding the Motion which
  the Hon. Gentleman has made you.'

It should be remembered that such sentiments as these were uttered to
an audience--not of his constituents, whom he might have felt bound to
please, but to a thoroughly corrupted House of Commons, at a period
when '_not_ to be corrupted was the shame;' and in the presence of
a powerful Minister, whom few men of the day were either strong or
virtuous enough to dare to thwart. The chubby, youthful-faced portrait
of the little Sir John hangs in the dining-room at Clowance: childish
the face may be; but, as if in apology for his small, juvenile
presence, he points with his right hand to the Mount, to indicate that
his principles were as firm and unshaken as that 'hoar rock.'[136]

The _Quarterly_ Reviewer (from whom we again quote), after concluding
his observations on Sir John's speech in 1734, goes on to say:

  'In the same year a curious incident occurred in the neighbourhood
  of his seat at Clowance, with which Sir John was only indirectly
  connected in his capacity of Justice of the Peace, but which was
  ultimately attended with very serious consequences to himself and
  his family. A certain Henry Rogers, by trade a pewterer, having some
  fancied claim to an estate called Skewis, seized the manor house,
  and, surrounding himself with a band of cut-throats, organized a
  rebellion on his own account, and bade defiance to the country round.
  Having beaten off from his house, not without bloodshed, first the
  sheriff, next the constables, and finally the military themselves,
  the villain succeeded in making good his escape. He was subsequently
  arrested at Salisbury, and brought to Launceston for trial, where the
  grand jury found five bills of murder against him, and Lord Chief
  Justice Hardwicke publicly returned thanks to Sir John "for his steady
  endeavours to bring him to justice."[137]

  'The terror, however, which this ruffian caused in the neighbourhood
  can scarcely be realized nowadays, and the menacing letters received
  by Lady St. Aubyn so preyed upon her mind, that they brought on a
  "sensible decay," or, as we should call it now, a rapid decline, from
  the effects of which, in 1740, she died.[138]

  'With the death of his wife, Sir John's interest in country life came
  to an end; and leaving his son to the care and instruction of his old
  friend at Ludgvan, he set out for a foreign land. Meanwhile, however,
  the parliamentary horizon was rapidly clouding over; a crisis was
  clearly imminent; and, on his return to England, it was to find that,
  for the present at least, his sorrow must be drowned in more work,
  in a redoubled attention to those duties which his early reputation
  now pointed to him to fulfil. And thus, as the Walpole Administration
  draws on to its close, the figure of Sir John St. Aubyn--the "little
  baronet," as he was called--comes prominently to the front as one of
  the most vigorous, as he certainly was the most conscientious, of the
  opponents of the then unpopular Prime Minister. On the subject of
  the vote of thanks, including an approbation of the manner in which
  the Spanish War had been prosecuted, which was carried by a small
  majority in the House of Commons early in 1741, he writes (April 9th)
  as follows: "I believe ye Folks in ye country are very much puzzled
  abo^t many of our Proceedings, and I don't wonder at y^r doubts about
  that unseasonable vote of Innocence; especially when ye Opportunity
  was so fairly given, w^{ch} ye Nation has been so long expecting us to
  take ye advantage of." But the country party the while felt that no
  opportunity must be lost, and no vigour spared in the attack. Contrast
  the tone of the following extract from a letter dated May 5th, and
  note how the space of one single month had served to fan the flame.
  Sir John now inveighs against "such Insolence in Administration, such
  wantonness in Power, w^{ch} surely nothing could produce but that
  mistaken vote of Innocence, w^{ch} so lately happen'd. And yet," he
  continues, "this is y^e Man ag^t whom we want evidence to advise his
  Removal, when at my very door there are such glaring Proofs, which,
  in less corrupt times, would deprive Him of his Head." Day by day the
  enemies of the Ministry acquired fresh strength: the elections were
  against the Court interest, even Westminster returning two members
  hostile to it. Walpole tottered on the brink of ruin, and had it
  not been that, during a short adjournment of the House in 1742, he
  resigned his office and was elevated to the peerage, he might, as we
  know, even have been committed to the Tower.

  'No sooner had Parliament reassembled than a measure was brought in
  by Lord Limerick, and seconded by Sir John St. Aubyn, to inquire into
  the conduct of the last twenty years. This was lost by two votes; but
  another, also proposed by Lord Limerick on the 23rd of March, for
  an inquiry into the conduct of Robert, Earl of Orford, was carried,
  and a Select Committee appointed by ballot. And now came Sir John's
  political triumph. To this committee he was appointed by every vote
  in the House of Commons, to the number of 518. "An honour," says the
  MS. from which we quote, "neither then nor before (as far as the
  Records of Parliament can reach) ever conferred on any member, as Mr.
  Speaker Onslow on the spot observed to Sir John's great commendation."
  When the committee was appointed he declined the offer of the chair,
  and Lord Viscount Limerick was chosen chairman. The following is an
  extract from a letter of Sir John's, dated from the Secret Committee
  Chamber, June 22nd, 1742: "We are now," he writes, "winding up our
  bottoms as well as we can under y^e disabillitys which we have been
  fetter'd with, nothwithstanding which, we shall show the world
  enough to convince if not convict. I am sorry there has been so much
  unconcern in y^e Gentlemen of our country; I wish I could say in some
  an unconcern only. We have had, and I wish we mayn't for ever now have
  lost, y^e only opportunity which may happen to retrieve y^e Honour and
  establish y^e National Institutions of y^e Country.... The Town is in
  high spirits at present, upon the accounts we have from Germany and
  Italy. This turn is not owing to y^e merit of y^e new Administration,
  but to y^e Vigour of this Parliament, which has had Its free Operation
  during this Inter-Regnum of Power, and whenever that happens, England
  must have Its due Influence upon y^e Continent; and if she had acted
  as she ought for some years past, what might have been brought about,
  when y^e bare expectation of her acting has produc'd such great
  events?"

  '"About this time," says Dr. Borlase, "Sir John being offer'd to take
  place as one of the Lords of the Admiralty, he was ready, he said,
  to serve his King and country, but would take no place unless upon
  the express condition that his freedom and independency in Parliament
  should remain unquestioned and uncontroll'd. These were not times to
  endure, much less shake hands with such inflexible Virtues; as he
  coveted no place, he never had one, 'though capable of any.'"

  'On the 31st March, 1744, when war was declared with France, the
  inhabitants of Mount's Bay became alarmed for the safety of their
  trade. Two things were required; a stationary armed vessel to protect
  their shores and fisheries from privateers (for three of the principal
  fishermen had already been taken prisoners), and a cruiser to convey
  the exports and imports necessary for working the mines. For the
  part he took in obtaining these advantages, Sir John received the
  thanks of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood, assembled as usual in
  their Parliament at the Bowling Green at Marazion. St. Michael's
  Mount he had restored from a ruined monastic cell to a comfortable
  dwelling-house; but he never lived to visit it again, dying of fever,
  at Pencarrow, on his way home in the year 1744, at the early age of
  forty-four; "to the great regret of all who knew him; and to his
  country's loss of a most faithful friend."

  '"The dignity of this ancient family," writes Borlase in the brief
  memoir attached to his pedigree, "owes much to this gentleman;" and
  Dr. Oliver, of Bath, in a letter of sympathy on the occasion of
  his death, speaks of him as "one who had bravely withstood all the
  temptation that honours or profit could lay in his way, and dared
  to stand almost single on the field of Purity, while thousands fell
  on his right hand and ten thousands on his left, the easy Prey of
  corruption." Farther on he adds, "Let us thank Heaven who lent us
  the great, good man so long, and neither wonder nor murmur at his
  being taken from us so soon, especially when we consider how little
  Influence his Example had upon Earth." There is something in a
  character like his which renders it worthy of the admiration and the
  love of generations; nay, of centuries, far beyond his own.'

The year before he died the following verses appeared in the
_Gentleman's Magazine_ (vol. xiii.) in allusion to the firm patriotism
and self-reliant character of our hero:

THE CORNISH MOUNT:--A PARALLEL.

    '"Si fractus illabatur orbis
    Impavidum ferient ruinæ."

                                  HOR.

    'Oft have I seen, from fam'd St. Michael's height,
    The ocean's rage, with wonder and delight;
    Whilst foaming waves the lordly bulk surround,
    Lashing its bulwarks with a hideous sound:
    Thetis in vain the lofty pile assails;
    But all her force and clangour nought avails;
    The pile majestic scorns the pond'rous shock;
    Her basis is an Adamantine rock.
    Just so (in worst of times) its _owner_ stood,
    Serenely great and resolutely good.
    His virtues early to the world were known;
    He makes his country's int'rest still his own.
    Nor Courts, nor tyrants can his soul affright,
    Who dares to vindicate his country's right.
    On him Cornubia's happiness depends;
    The best of patriots and the best of friends.
    Guard him, kind Heav'n, to bless his native shore,
    When truth shall stand, and traytors be no more.'

The friend of Pope,[139] I cannot help thinking that the poet may have
had the unassailable integrity of his Cornish acquaintance in his mind
when he wrote the last line of the couplet which I have prefixed by way
of motto to this chapter.


Of the fourth baronet it will suffice to record that, having taken the
degree of M.A. at Oriel College, Oxon, in 1747, he became a member for
Cornwall in 1761, and continued to sit for the county for eleven years.
His monument in Clowance Church sums up, sufficiently for our purpose,
his character and his career:

  'To the memory of Sir John St. Aubyn, Baronet, who, by his descent
  from a long line of worthy ancestors, and a father distinguished by
  honest zeal and prudent moderation, was recommended to the important
  trust of representing in Parliament the county of Cornwall; and
  justified the confidence of his electors by unshaken constancy of
  principle, uniting with the dignity of his public character the
  domestic virtues of tenderness and friendship. This monument was
  erected by his disconsolate widow. He was born the 12th of Nov., 1726.
  He died 12th Oct., 1772.'

But the fifth baronet of the same familiar name will demand somewhat
more of our time and attention. He was the son of the last-mentioned
Sir John St. Aubyn, was born on the 17th May, 1758, and was educated
at Westminster; where, when a lad of seventeen, he had an amusing
escapade. He and another hopeful young gentleman, his schoolfellow,
joined in a bond for raising money to enable them to obtain the
delights and luxuries which the discipline of the school and the extent
of their pocket-money denied. The inevitable day came for repayment of
the moneys advanced. It was in vain that 'infancy' was pleaded against
the suit of the London money-lender; the precocious financier was
ordered to pay back the sums he had borrowed, and interest at four per
cent. A lad of so much enterprise was evidently designed to make some
figure in the world, and we accordingly find him, when only twenty-six
years old, contesting the county in 1784. He made another unsuccessful
attempt six years afterwards; but, nothing daunted, once more essayed
to obtain a seat in Parliament, and on this occasion succeeded in
securing his election for Penryn. He afterwards sat for Helston from
1807 to 1812.

But it does not appear that he took any very prominent part in
political life, his tastes leading him rather to the pursuit of the
arts and sciences; and accordingly we find that he was elected a Fellow
of the Royal Society, of the Society of Antiquaries, and of the Linnæan
Society. In 1804, in conjunction with others, he proposed to establish,
at the Royal Institution, at a cost of £4,000, a mineralogical
collection and an Assay Office, on a large scale, for the improvement
of the study of mineralogy and metallurgy; but the scheme failed for
want of funds, although Sir Humphry Davy, Lord Dartmouth, and one or
two more took great interest in the matter, and contributed valuable
collections of minerals, etc. Here it may be mentioned that Dr. Wm.
Babington dedicated to Sir John[140] his 'New System of Mineralogy.'
It was, in fact, a catalogue of the Baronet's own collection, much of
which had previously belonged to the Earl of Bute.

As evidencing his fondness for art, it may be observed that he was
from first to last the discriminating friend and patron of his
fellow-countyman, John Opie, R.A.; and it may be added that he was one
of the pall-bearers at the artist's funeral. To Opie he entrusted the
painting of his portrait (mezzotinted by W. Barney), which now hangs
in the Town Hall of Devonport. In this town the family of St. Aubyn
has long held large possessions, the value of which the fifth baronet
is said to have increased three or fourfold, although he is said to
have embarrassed the family estates for many years by the singular
provisions of his will. When Sir John's collection of engravings and
etchings were sold at Phillips's Auction Rooms, in April, 1840, the
sale attracted the presence of most of the principal connoisseurs in
the kingdom; and to give some idea of the vastness of the collection,
it may be added that the sale lasted for seventeen days.

It is not surprising to find that, with such tastes as his, Sir
John St. Aubyn found London a more congenial place of abode than
Cornwall. In the metropolis, therefore--at 63, Portland Place--or
in its vicinity--as at Short Grove, Saffron Walden, or at Woolmers,
Hertford--he lived; and, close to London he died--at Putney, on the
10th August 1839--at the good old age of eighty-one. He was noted for
his beneficence, and for his refined and courteous manners; and these
virtues and graces are suitably recorded on his monument at Crowan.
On the occasion of his funeral, advantage was taken of his popularity
(especially amongst the Freemasons, of which body he was a prominent
member) for his body to 'lie in state' at St. Austell, Truro and
Clowance; and his remains were followed to the grave by between 20,000
and 30,000 persons--a multitude as numerous as their sorrow was sincere.


It has not been my practice to refer to any of the living
representatives of the families whose histories I am endeavouring to
sketch, but it can hardly be out of place on this occasion to observe
that Sir John St. Aubyn, the present baronet, has also been for more
than a quarter of a century a Member of Parliament for Cornwall; and
that, to say the least, he is not likely to tarnish the lustre which
surrounds the names of the past St. Aubyns of Clowance and the Mount.

[Illustration: (end of chapter vignette.)]

FOOTNOTES:

[131] There is a view of Clowance House in Borlase's 'Natural History
of Cornwall,' 1758.

[132] John St. Aubyn, grandfather of the first baronet; it was he who
purchased St. Michael's Mount from John Basset of Tehidy in 1657 or
1660, and died in 1679.

[133] The first baronetcy dates from 11th Dec., 1671.

[134] I quote very fully from this article with little reluctance,
because the writer is believed to be a gentleman who is not only
master of the subject of which he treats, but who also enjoys peculiar
facilities for elaborating it. 'I do not _count_ what I borrow, but I
_weigh_ it,' said Montaigne in his essay on 'Books.'

[135] He rebuilt the pier in 1726-27. In 1811 there were fifty-three
houses on St. Michael's Mount, whereas before the year 1700 the place
had so decayed that there was, it is said, only one cottage, and that
inhabited by a poor widow. The present baronet has spared neither pains
nor expense to enlarge and beautify the domestic buildings of the
Mount, under the professional guidance of his relative, the well-known
West-country architect, James Piers St. Aubyn; and Sir John has also
much improved the causeway which gives access for foot-passengers at
low tide.

[136] It may be noted here that the family portraits are at present
distributed between the Mount, Trevethoe near St. Ives, and Clowance;
but the majority are at the latter place.

[137] A well-known engraving of Rogers's portrait is familiar to the
collector.

[138] This lady was Catherine, the pretty daughter of Sir Nicholas
Morice of Werrington. The country story runs that her fortune was
£10,000, which was conveyed to Clowance in two huge wagons--the whole
of the amount having been paid in half-crowns!

[139] Writing to Dr. Borlase, in May, 1744, Sir John St. Aubyn mentions
that 'I doubt your friend Mr. Pope can't last long. He sent to desire
Lord Oxford and myself to dine with him t'other day, and I thought he
would have dy'd then; he has a dropsie which has almost drowned him.'

[140] Thos. Hogg's poem of 'St. Michael's Mount' was also appropriately
dedicated to him.




_TREVITHICK_,

THE ENGINEER.

                            'I exult,
    Casting reserve away, exult to see
    An intellectual mastery exercised
    O'er the blind elements; a purpose given;
    A perseverance fed; almost a soul
    Imparted--to blind matter. I rejoice,
    Measuring the force of those gigantic powers,
    That, by the thinking mind have been compelled
    To serve the will of feeble-bodied Man.'

                                WORDSWORTH'S '_Excursion_.'




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_TREVITHICK_,

THE ENGINEER.

    'Soon shall thy arm, unconquered Steam, afar
    Drag the slow barge and drive the rapid car.'

                                              DARWIN.


It would not be unreasonable to inquire how it can be necessary now
to write an account of Richard Trevithick, seeing that only nine or
ten years ago two elaborate volumes on the subject were published by
his son Francis.[141] But, apart from the propriety of including so
remarkable a man in the _fasciculus_ of our Cornish worthies, it may
be observed that the very amplitude of the 'Life' to which I have
referred renders it inaccessible to the general reader; and moreover
it is (as the talented civil engineer who wrote that valuable and
interesting work himself observes), almost as much a technical history
of the development of the steam-engine as a memoir of him who was
so intimately associated with its rise and progress. Our purpose is
biography; and, unless I am grievously mistaken, this aspect of the
subject will be found full of interest.

The steam pumping-engine is to a mine what the heart is to a man: were
its action to cease, or to be inefficiently performed, the mine would
be flooded, and would cease to be. It is therefore not to be wondered
at if, so soon as men ceased to find the precious ores in granules
on the surface, washed down by mountain streams from the denuded
veins which seam the hillsides, attention should be directed towards
finding the coveted treasures in the bowels of the earth itself. But
here a difficulty met the searchers. As they sunk their pits they
often tapped the sources of streams, which, gushing out, at once put
an end to their quest. Rude expedients were at first employed to
remedy this; wooden pumps, worked by the hand, and such-like feeble
attempts at getting over the difficulty. But it was not until 1702
that, according to some accounts, the first steam pumping-engine was
erected in Cornwall, by Savery. Newcomen, whose name will always
be honourably associated with the improvement of this invaluable
machine, very soon was able to increase its efficiency, and erected
one of his best engines in 1720, at the mine-works of Ludgvan-lez,
near Penzance. By 1756 there were _several_ steam-engines at work in
Cornwall; but their defects, especially as regards their low power,
and their extravagant consumption of coal, were inconveniently felt.
It was at length perceived that the solution of the difficulty lay
in a diminution of the size of the boiler, and an increase in the
elastic force of the steam; and for the accomplishment of these
objects we are mainly indebted to the subject of this memoir, as
well as, in some degree, also to his father. The circumstances which
surrounded them were by no means encouraging. Coal, of course, had to
be imported, and also iron plates for the boilers; and the latter it
was necessary, in those days, to make of small size, on account of the
indifferent condition of the Cornish roads, along which (as no heavy
wheeled-traffic was practicable), the burdens had to be transported
from the ports to the mines, and _vice versa_, on the backs of mules.
Now-a-days the huge boilers are moved entire, and there are few more
gladsome as well as picturesque sights to be seen in Cornwall than the
transit of a gigantic new boiler through the streets of one of the
West-country towns. It means that mining enterprise, which has flagged
of late years, owing to the increased importation of foreign ores, and
has caused deep depression and cruel poverty in many a Cornish home,
is awakening once more; and the teams of thirty or forty horses, with
their noisy conductors, and the ponderous mass which slowly toils along
the weary road, are hailed with shouting and songs. We see, then, of
what vital interest to a mining county, such as Cornwall, must ever
be all that is connected with that seemingly prosaic structure, the
steam-engine; and how full of interest, to Cornish folk at least,
should be the story of any Cornishmen who have been prominently
connected with its development and history. Such certainly were the
Trevithicks, especially the younger.

Though in later times they settled in the western part of the county,
the family seems to have sprung, in the sixteenth or seventeenth
century, from Trevemeder, a 'town place' in the seaboard parish of St.
Eval, four or five miles north-west of St. Columb Major, a parish which
contains some of the finest cliff scenery in Cornwall, at the far-famed
Bedruthan Steps and Sands. Some of the family monuments are still to be
found in the church, which lies two miles south of Trevemeder.

The elder Trevithick, who, like his more illustrious son, was
christened Richard, was born in 1735; and that he was a man of sound
judgment and much force of character may be surmised from his having
been appointed, when only thirty years of age, manager of some of the
leading Cornish mines, in days when mine-managers were expected to be
their own engineers. In 1760 he married Ann Teague, one of a family
(said to be of Irish extraction) distinguished for many a long year
past in the annals of Cornish mining. By her, a woman of large and
portly figure,[142] he had a tall stately family of four daughters and
one son, all of whom were, I believe, born in an unpretending house
amongst the mine-heaps which lie between Dolcoath and North Crofty, in
sight of the noble hill of Carnbrea crowned with its old castle, and
still more antique remains of ancient Britons.

An example of the elder Richard's inventive skill as an engineer was
given when he repaired, or rather, almost reconstructed, about 1775,
Newcomen's old Carloose, or Bullan Garden engine; especially by adding
thereto a strong top of new form to the boiler, a drawing of which is
given in the Appendix to Price's 'Mineralogia Cornubiensis,' 1778. The
old boiler-tops were scarcely more than kettle-lids, and were actually
weighted down in order to keep them in their places; indeed, there is a
tradition that the first Cornish boilers were nothing more than stone
fire-places! In effecting this improvement Richard Trevithick, senior,
was assisted by one John Harvey,[143] the founder of the celebrated
firm of Harvey and Co., of Hagle Foundry, of whom we shall hear more
by-and-by.

But about 1777 Watt, the celebrated 'low-pressure' engineer, appeared
on the scene with his improvements in the steam-engine; travelling into
Cornwall for the purpose of obtaining orders, erecting his first engine
at Wheal Busy, and exciting the most angry jealousy on the part of all
the local mine-managers and engineers--and notably our Richard: who,
however, had the magnanimity and good sense at length to acknowledge
and to adopt many of his illustrious rival's improvements.

The old man, who was a pious Methodist, a 'class-leader,' and an
intimate friend of John Wesley, died when sixty-two years old at
Penponds, near Camborne, on the 1st August, 1797, and, I believe, was
buried on the summit of Carn Brea, but no monumental stone marks the
spot. The whole of his life was spent amongst mines and steam-engines,
an industry which was deeply depressed at the time of his death;
and Richard, the younger (who had married Jane, John Harvey's tall
and buxom daughter, shortly prior to his father's decease), may be
said to have succeeded to a 'heritage of woe: 'not one in ten of the
steam-engines which his father had contributed so much towards putting
into operation being at that time at work, and our hero had almost to
begin the work anew.


So much as the foregoing seemed necessary in order to rightly estimate
Trevithick's position and surroundings when he had arrived at the age
of twenty-six. But it will now be desirable to retrace our steps,
and begin at the beginning. He was born in the centre of a group of
some of our most important Cornish mines, in the parish of Illogan,
on the 13th April, 1771, one of a family of five, of whom Richard was
the only surviving son, and, as a matter of course, his mother's pet.
One can picture the tall, sturdy lad, 'creeping reluctantly' to the
little school at Camborne, where he was reputed a lazy, inattentive,
and obstinate pupil, always drawing upon his slate lines and figures,
unintelligible to any but himself, but, likely enough, containing the
germs of those inventions which were destined hereafter to contribute
largely to the success of Cornish mining, and make his own name famous.
As he grew up he seems to have been more noted as a wrestler, and for
his feats of strength, than for anything else, except, perhaps, for his
rapid power as a mental arithmetician. He was a great hand at throwing
the sledge-hammer, and could lift half-a-ton. A huge mass of iron of
about this weight, which tradition says Trevithick used to lift, is
still shown at the Patent Museum, South Kensington. He would climb the
mine-shears--a height of fifty or sixty feet--stand, balancing himself
on the summit, and then and there swing round his sledge-hammer 'to
steady his head and foot.' There is a story told of his being attacked
by pickpockets while walking with his friend, Captain Andrew Vivian,
in London; but Trevithick seized two of them, knocked their heads
together, and then flung them away from him in opposite directions, not
to return to the Tartar whom they had caught! The mark was long shown
on the ceiling of Dolcoath account-house, which was imprinted by the
_heels_ of one Captain Hodge, who had dared Trevithick to try a fall
with him, but who found himself first flying through the air, and then
flat on his back on the table, before he knew what had happened!

But Richard Trevithick was endowed with something more than mere
physical strength; for, having first received some instruction in his
calling from an engineer, well-known in Cornwall, of the name of Bull,
he at length got to work, in 1790, at Stray Park Mine, at 30s. a month.
Whilst here he was selected, when only twenty-one years of age, to
report upon the relative merits of Watt's and Hornblower's engines, a
fact which, surely, speaks volumes for his powers of observation, and
for the solidity of his judgment.

In 1795 he erected at Wheal Treasury, when his pay was 3s. 6d. a day,
his double-acting steam-engine--a model of which is still, I believe,
in operation at Battersea--and in 1796 or 1797, he removed to Ding Dong
Mine, near Penzance. It was about this time that he, fortunately for
himself, met with Davies Gilbert, of Tredrea, afterwards President of
the Royal Society, whose impressions of Trevithick are recorded in the
following letter to J. S. Enys, Esq., of Enys:

                                  'Eastbourne, April 29, 1839.

  'MY DEAR SIR,

  'I will give as good an account as I can of Richard Trevithick.
  His father was the chief manager in Dolcoath Mine, and he bore the
  reputation of being the best informed and most skilful captain in
  all western mines; for as broad a line of distinction was then made
  between the _Eastern_ and _Western_ mines (the Gwennap and the
  Camborne Mines) as between those of different nations.

  'I knew the father very well, and about the year 1796 I remember
  hearing from Mr. Jonathan Hornblower, that a tall and strong young
  man had made his appearance among engineers, and that on more than
  one occasion he had threatened some people who had contradicted him
  to throw them into the engine-shaft. In the latter part of November
  of that year I was called to London as a witness in a steam-engine
  case between Messrs. Boulton and Watt and Maberley. Then I believe
  that I first saw Mr. Richard Trevithick, Jun., and certainly there I
  first became acquainted with him. Our correspondence commenced soon
  afterwards, and he was very frequently in the habit of calling at
  Tredrea to ask my opinion on various projects that occurred to his
  mind--some of them very ingenious, and others so wild as not to rest
  on any foundation at all. I cannot trace the succession in point of
  time.

  'On one occasion Trevithick came to me and inquired with great
  eagerness as to what I apprehended would be the loss of power in
  working an engine by the force of steam raised to the pressure of
  several atmospheres; but instead of condensing, to let the steam
  escape. I, of course, answered at once that the loss of power would
  be one atmosphere, diminished power by the saving of an air-pump with
  its friction, and in many cases with the raising of condensing water.
  I never saw a man more delighted; and I believe that within a month
  several puffers were in actual work.

                                      'DAVIES GILBERT.'

Thus was born the _high-pressure_ engine, with which the name of
Richard Trevithick will for ever be associated; and in a few months
many of these machines were at work, notwithstanding Watt's allegations
that they were dangerous to public safety. Indeed Trevithick, writing
to Davies Gilbert, observed that 'James Watt said, ... that I deserved
hanging for bringing into use the high-pressure engine.' Trevithick
never afterwards reverted to the low-pressure model. And here it may be
observed that Mr. Michael Williams considered that this invention, in
conjunction with Trevithick's improved cylindrical boiler, doubled or
trebled the work done by the old Boulton and Watt engines. The saving
to the Cornish mines thus effected by Trevithick has been estimated at
nearly £91,000 per annum.

He was now in full swing of work; much to the surprise of his father,
was engaged in twenty different mines; and was everywhere recognised as
a worthy successor of his father, and as the chief Cornish engineer in
the county.

It was at this time, too (1797), that he married Jane Harvey. A tall
man, 6 feet 2 inches high, broad-shouldered, as most Cornishmen are,
with a massive head, bright blue eyes, and a large but shapely mouth,
with a firm but kind expression. His bust was presented to the Royal
Institution of Cornwall by Mr. W. J. Henwood, and his portrait--by
Linnell, in 1816--is preserved at the National Portrait Gallery at
South Kensington.

The young couple took up their abode at Moreton House, near
Redruth, close to the residence of Murdock, the inventor, in 1792,
of the gas-light. Watt lived not far off, at Plain-an-Guarry (the
Playing-place), but the two rival engineers did not visit each other.
Watt and his engines were patronized by the _Eastern_ or Gwennap
mine-owners, but Trevithick and his inventions were adopted by the
Camborne, Illogan and Redruth or _Western_ adventurers. As an instance
of the strong feeling which existed in those days between the rival
mine-engineers, Smiles, in his 'Lives of Boulton and Watt,' states that
it was reported that old Captain Trevithick and Murdock had actually
fought a duel over the subject of their inventions.

From Redruth, after only a few months' residence there, Richard and
his wife moved to Camborne. Whilst here, and about this time, he
invented his improved plunger-poles, the forcer temporary pump, the
plunger-pole pump, the pole-pressure[144] engine, and the double-acting
pressure-engine for Wheal Druid; all of them greatly conducing to the
facilities required for removing the water out of deep mines.[145] He
seems, too, to have been particularly happy in the methods which his
versatile ingenuity employed in adapting old machinery to more modern
requirements; and, though he was always busy as a bee, he was full of
fun and good-humour, and noted for being a capital story-teller.

But Trevithick did not confine himself to the steam pumping-engine.
The improvements which he and others had made and were making in that
most important machine necessitated improvements in other parts of
the mine. The ore must be drawn more rapidly to the surface, and the
mode of sending it up the shafts must be improved. He was equal to the
occasion: the steam whim solved the former, and the wrought-iron kibble
(formerly a bucket, constructed of wood) the latter difficulty. About
this period an amusing incident occurred which is worth recording,
as exhibiting Trevithick's force of character in other than merely
professional matters. His remuneration would appear to have consisted
partly of a fixed salary, partly of the profits incident to the supply
of machinery, and partly of royalties payable upon instruments of his
invention. Now one of his engines was supplied to a mine called Wheal
Abraham, whose shareholders, on somewhat fanciful and possibly unfair
grounds, appear to have unnecessarily delayed satisfying Trevithick's
just claims; whereupon, one night, the engineer and his men took the
matter into their own hands, and (to the astonishment of the staff of
the mine next morning) removed the huge engine bodily.


We now approach a very interesting episode in Trevithick's
career--namely, the invention of his 'Camborne common
road-locomotive.'[146] The idea of this may possibly have suggested
itself to him (as doubtless other causes suggested similar ideas to
Murdock, and to others before and after Trevithick) from his having
to transport one of his portable engines from mine to mine, as
required--sometimes at a considerable cost. To such a practical genius
as his the idea doubtless occurred, 'Why not, with all this available
power, make the engine move herself?' However this may be, the curtain
now rises on an amusing little group in Trevithick's house; Davies
Gilbert acting as stoker, and Lady De Dunstanville of Tehidy (on whose
estate most of the great Camborne Mines were situated) playing the
part of engine-man to a little model locomotive which ran round the
table. The original working model of 'the Trevithick high-pressure
locomotive,' the first working model for which was made in 1797, is
still to be seen at the South Kensington Museum, in the machinery
department; but it was not till Christmas Eve or (according to other
authorities) Christmas _Day_, 1801, that the 'puffing devil,'[147] as
it was locally termed by the astonished Cornish folk, made its first
performances on the roads round Camborne, Tuckingmill, and Tehidy,
carrying its ten or a dozen passengers uphill faster than a man could
walk. The success, though not complete, was sufficient to determine
Trevithick, with his brother-in-law Andrew Vivian--who found the money
and shared in the speculation--to proceed forthwith to London in order
to obtain a patent (his first), which was accordingly secured on the
24th March, 1802. Smiles points out, in his 'Lives of the Engineers,'
that a remarkable feature in this engine was that it not only raised
but also depressed the piston by the action of the steam; and he also
tells how, in 1803, the wonder was exhibited to the public first at
Lord's Cricket Ground, and afterwards near the spot where the London
and North-Western Railway Station, Euston Square, now stands. This
engine attained a speed of twelve miles an hour. When the noisy
machine worked its way along Oxford Street, all horses and carriages
were ordered out of the way; many of the shops were shut for fear of
accidents, and the roofs of the houses were crowded with spectators. I
believe it was also exhibited at one time on the site of the present
Bedlam. To Trevithick, also, Smiles awards the credit of 'putting
_the two things_ together--the steam-horse and the iron way,' when he
invented his second or _railway_ locomotive. The controversy as to the
priority of the invention has been thus ably summed up in the following
extract from 'Locomotive Engineering,' by Zerah Colburn, C.E. (vol. i.,
pp. 32, 33; 1871):

  'As a true inventor, no name stands in so close connexion with the
  locomotive-engine as that of Richard Trevithick. It was he who first
  broke through the trammels of Watt's system of condensation and low,
  if not negative, pressure; it was he who first employed the internal
  fire-place and internal heating surface; he was the first to create
  or promote a chimney-draught by means of exhaust steam; the first to
  employ a horizontal cylinder and cranked axle, and to propose two such
  cylinders with the cranks at right angles to each other; the first
  to surround the cylinder with hot air; the first to draw a load by
  the adhesion of a smooth wheel upon a smooth iron bar; _and the first
  to make and work a railway locomotive-engine_. Trevithick and George
  Stephenson were contemporaries;[148] the first locomotive seen by the
  latter was constructed by the former; and a personal acquaintance
  was afterwards established between them. Although irrelevant to
  the present purpose, it may be added that Trevithick patented the
  screw-propeller, and specified several forms of that instrument, and
  various modes of applying it, in 1815--years before those to whom the
  invention is more commonly ascribed had turned their attention to it.'

The history of steam locomotion by rail was thus conveniently
summarized by a writer in the _Times_, on the occasion of the George
Stephenson Centenary, 8th June, 1881:

  'It may be mentioned that there were iron railways before Stephenson's
  time. The earliest account is of a timber tram-line laid down near
  Newcastle in 1602. Lines were made of iron at Whitehaven in 1738.
  In 1776 an iron railway was laid down near Sheffield, by John Curr,
  but it was destroyed by the colliers. Ten years later the first
  considerable iron railway was laid down at Coalbrookdale. The first
  iron railway sanctioned by Parliament--with the exception of local
  lines used by canal companies--was the Surrey iron railway, worked
  by horses, from the Thames at Wandsworth to Croydon, laid down in
  1801. _In the year 1802 Trevithick and Vivian obtained a patent
  for a high-pressure locomotive engine._ In 1813 William Hedley, of
  Wylam Colliery, constructed the first travelling locomotive engine
  in a colliery; and in the following year[149] the first locomotive
  constructed by George Stephenson travelled at the rate of six miles
  per hour.'

Notwithstanding, however, this practical success, from a pecuniary
point of view Trevithick's position was far from flourishing. It
is true that he was engaged, not only on his Cornish work, but
also at Pen-y-darran in South Wales, at Coalbrookdale, and at
Newcastle-on-Tyne; and it is also true that the exhibition of his
'Catch-me-who-can' engine, as Mr. Davies Gilbert's sister named the
railway locomotive, working on a circular railway of about 100 feet in
diameter, drew crowds of Londoners to witness its performance. But the
shilling admission fees did not come in fast enough to counterbalance
the legal difficulties which our engineer had to contend with in
the working of ill-defined Patent Laws; and the breaking of a rail
caused the engine to overturn--thus putting an end to the exhibition.
Ill-health, too--typhus, gastric, and brain fever supervened;
bankruptcy and imprisonment were the result; and, to anticipate a
little, poor Trevithick was driven from London, after an unsuccessful
application had been made to the Government for remuneration for his
truly national services. He was not only, as his biographer contends,
the real inventor of the blast-pipe; but, up to 1808, had constructed
two road-locomotives (one for Camborne and one for London), railway
locomotives for Coalbrookdale and Newcastle, and a tramroad locomotive
for Pen-y-darran; to say nothing of his steam-dredger engine, his
travelling steam-crane, his brilliant though ineffectual attempt to
construct a driftway under the Thames at Rotherhithe,[150] etc., etc.

The following extract from the 'Catalogue of the South Kensington
Museum' gives the official account of Trevithick and his patents:

  '_Inventor and constructor of the first high-pressure steam-engine,
  and the first steam-carriage used in England_; constructor of a tunnel
  beneath the Thames, which he completed to within 100 feet of the
  proposed terminus, and was then compelled to abandon the undertaking;
  inventor and constructor of steam-engines and machinery for the mines
  of Peru (capable of being transported in mountainous districts), by
  which he succeeded in restoring the Peruvian mines to prosperity;
  also of coining-machinery for the Peruvian mint, and of furnaces for
  purifying silver ore by fusion; also inventor of other improvements in
  steam-engines, impelling-carriages, hydraulic engines, propelling and
  towing vessels, discharging and towing ships' cargoes, floating-docks,
  construction of vessels, iron buoys, steam-boilers, cooking, obtaining
  fresh water, heating apartments, etc.'

The following is a list of his patents:

  NOS.     DATES.               PATENTS.

  2599     (1802)     Steam Engines for Propelling Carriages.
  3148     (1808)     Ship Propeller.
  3172     (1808)     Iron Tanks for Ships.
  3231     (1809)     Iron Docks, Ships, Masts and Spars, Buoys,
                         Steam-arm, etc.
  3922     (1815)     Screw-propeller.[151]
  6082     (1831)     Surface Condenser.
  6083     (1831)     Heating Apparatus for Rooms.
  6308     (1832)     Superheating Steam.

But this list by no means exhausts the whole of his inventions, for he
was so fond of talking of them before they were matured that many were
found sharp enough to seize Trevithick's ideas, and then to reduce them
into some practical and remunerative form for themselves.

Sorry reward this for such incessant industry and varied inventive
skill as induced Hyde Clarke to write as follows:

  'In the establishment of the locomotive, in the development of the
  powers of the Cornish engines, and in increasing the capabilities of
  the marine engine, there can be no doubt that Trevithick's exertions
  have given a far wider range to the dominion of the steam-engine than
  even the great and masterly improvements of James Watt effected in his
  day.'

The _Quarterly Review_ for October, 1867, has an article on 'George
Stephenson and Locomotion,' in which George Stephenson is described as
'the father of railway locomotion;' and yet two pages after (p. 499)
the writer of the article mentions, with greater accuracy, Richard
Trevithick (or, as he spells it, 'Trevethick') as 'the first who put
together the two ideas of the steam horse and the iron way.' Alas for
our Cornishman! such is fame! It has been shown above that Trevithick
not only first put together the steam horse and the iron way, but that
he first worked the steam horse on the turnpike road; and to _him_
therefore is due the chief credit for there being 'not a line or a
locomotive which does not bear testimony to his genius, his sagacity,
and his perseverance; nor is there a traveller upon a railway, who
saves time, money, fatigue and anxiety ... who has not reason to think
of _Richard Trevithick_ with gratitude for the benefits which he has
conferred, and with admiration for the intellectual triumphs which he
achieved.'

Fortunate it was for him that he was a remarkably good-tempered man,
most simple and frugal in his habits, and richly endowed with that
'friend of the brave'--Hope!

His freedom from debt and imprisonment seems to have been at length
due to the sale of one of his patents for iron tanks (for ships) and
iron buoys, to Mr. Maudslay, founder of the now eminent firm of London
engineers of that name. Trevithick had pressed his proposals on the
Admiralty for a long time in vain; and at last, with characteristic
impetuosity, settled the matter for ever, it is said, by calling the
Navy Board to their faces 'a lot of old women.'

Mrs. Trevithick now joined her husband in London, but not until after
prolonged importunity on his part; and her reluctance is scarcely to
be wondered at when we think of the difficulties which then existed in
making the journey from Cornwall to the metropolis. She had to post
all the way, three hundred miles, with four children, one of them a
baby, and probably with no servant. Besides which, her brother, Mr.
Henry Harvey, of Hayle, represented to her that Trevithick's position
in London was hardly sufficiently assured as yet to warrant her making
the move. Conjugal love, however, at length prevailed over every other
consideration; and on her welcome arrival, a touching little incident
occurred. She found her two last letters, unopened, in her husband's
pocket; and on her reproaching him with this seeming forgetfulness,
which she attributed to his being so thoroughly immersed in his
multifarious engineering schemes, he confessed that he had not dared
to open them, lest her arguments against their reunion should have
prevailed over his wishes. It was well for both that the faithful wife
came to town: for soon afterwards, had she not ransacked London for a
doctor, whilst her husband lay almost dying in a sponging-house, it is
unlikely that he would have survived to return to his native county. To
Cornwall, however, he at length returned, in broken health and spirits,
in 1810, to find that his mother had just died. Trevithick went home
by sea, a six days' voyage, and, as we were then at war with France,
the _Falmouth Packet_ in which he sailed was under convoy. They were
chased by a French man-of-war, from whom they luckily escaped; her
commander little dreaming that his small craft (which seems to have
owed her safety chiefly to her captain's knowledge of the coast) had
on board her the man who had laid proposals before the Government for
fitting vessels with high-pressure engines and launching them against
the French fleet equipped at Boulogne for the invasion of England.

Trevithick's first idea of steam navigation appears to have arisen
in 1804, though his specification was not dated till 1808;[152] and
in this, as in almost every other important step in his life, he
relied very much on the sound judgment and sympathetic advice of his
friend Davies Gilbert. Paddle-wheels, however (the original mode of
propulsion), were found cumbrous to ships, especially in heavy weather;
and this led Trevithick to the invention of the screw-propeller, a
design for which he laid before the Navy Board in 1812, but without
effect. The patent was not dated till the 6th of June, 1815; nor was
success assured until after the busy engineer had left his native
county on a voyage to Peru, which seemed to hold out promises of
proving an El Dorado for him. His son and biographer, taking into
consideration the numerous marine inventions and appliances of his
progenitor, claims for his father, and not without much show of
justice, that he may be regarded as the originator of our present iron
steam fleet.

But, in fact, the man's versatility in his profession seems to have
been unbounded. In 1813 he was the life and soul of the arrangements
for constructing the Plymouth Breakwater; then he turns his attention
to the manufacture of agricultural engines, and constructs the first
steam thrashing-machine, which was until recently at work at Trewithan,
in Probus, but now occupies a place of honour in the South Kensington
Museum of Patents, together with a boiler of curious construction by
him.[153] This invention, like some others of Trevithick's, seems to
have been almost still-born; yet it was destined, as we now know, to
re-appear as a powerful factor in the development of agriculture.

His next great stride was the new 'pole-puffer-engine' of 1816, in
connection with which squabbles arose between the engineer and his
relations, Henry Harvey and Andrew Vivian, both of whom were said to
have been moved to jealousy by Trevithick's having arranged to get the
castings for the first of these engines (viz., that for Wheal Herland,
near Gwinear) made at Bridgenorth, instead of at Hayle. The first trial
of the new engine, when at length set up, seems to have been somewhat
of a failure, owing to the inaccurate way in which it was made. Here is
an eye-witness's amusing account of its starting:

  'I was a boy working in the mine, and several of us peeped in at the
  door to see what was doing. Captain Dick Trevithick was in a great
  way; the engine would not start. After a bit, Captain Dick threw
  himself down upon the floor of the engine-house, and there he lay
  upon his back; then up he jumped, and snatched a sledge-hammer out of
  the hands of a man who was driving in a wedge, and lashed it in, in a
  minute. There never was a man could use a sledge like Captain Dick; he
  was as strong as a bull. Then he picked up a spanner, and unscrewed
  something, and--off she went! Captain Vivian was near me, looking in
  at the doorway. Captain Dick saw him, and, shaking his fist, said, "If
  you come in here, I'll throw you down the shaft." I suppose Captain
  Vivian had something to do with making the boilers, and Captain Dick
  was angry because they leaked clouds of steam. You could hardly see,
  or hear anybody speak in the engine-house, it was so full of steam and
  noise; we could hear the steam-puffer roaring at St. Erth, more than
  three miles off.'

Another altercation on the subject of this engine took place at a
meeting of the Wheal Herland adventurers, when Trevithick said:
'I could not help threatening to horsewhip Joseph Price for the
falsehoods that he, with the others, had reported. I hear that he is
to go to London to meet the London Committee on Monday. I hope the
Committee will consider J. Price's report as from a disappointed man.
It is reported that he has bought very largely in Woolf's patent, which
now is not worth a farthing, besides losing the making my castings,
which galls him very sorely.'

The final result was that the Wheal Herland engine proved a great
success.

'Every engine that _was_ erecting is stopped, and the whole county
thinks of no other engine,' wrote its engineer; and that Trevithick had
'the courage of his convictions' may be judged from his saying: 'I have
offered to deposit £1,000 to £500 as a bet against Woolf's best engine,
and give him 20,000,000 (lbs. "duty"), but that party refuses to accept
the challenge.' Indeed, Mr. Francis Trevithick claims that '_This
engine performed the same work as the Watt engine, with less than half
of the daily coal_.'

It would, in fact, be difficult to exaggerate the importance of Richard
Trevithick's contributions to this branch of applied mechanics; and
had he been as prudent in his management of his business affairs, and
as sharp in looking after his pecuniary interests as he was brimful of
talent in his scientific inventions, it would never have been necessary
for the late Mr. Michael Williams, M.P.,[154] to write of him that 'he
was at the same time the greatest and the worst-used man in the county.'


Such was Trevithick's position when he had reached the age of
forty-five. Sanguine, impetuous, and brilliant--no sooner finishing
one invention than commencing another (nay, sometimes before he had
thoroughly completed the first)--a benefactor of incalculable extent
to the prosperity of his native county, but so unsuspecting and so
indifferent to his own, that he turned at length to the New World for
the appreciation and reward that he had failed to secure in the Old.

The circumstances which led to this determination are somewhat curious.
A desire having been felt amongst several wealthy Spaniards in Peru
to rework certain of the old gold and silver mines which required
draining, Don Francisco de Uville, of Lima, a Swiss gentleman, was
sent to England to search for the best steam pumping-engines for
their purpose. The names of Messrs. Boulton and Watt were so famous,
that, almost as a matter of course, he first consulted them; but
they discouraged the project, mainly on the grounds that the rare
atmosphere of the Cordilleras would interfere with the efficiency of
the steam-engine. Thus rebuffed, and much dejected, he chanced to see
in the window of a shop, near the spot where the 'Catch-me-who-can'
had been exhibited, a small model of one of Richard Trevithick's
engines, which he at once secured for £20, and hastened back with it
to Peru. Arriving there, he at once put its powers to the test, and
was delighted to find that Boulton and Watt's doleful prophecies were
not fulfilled. Accordingly he forthwith returned to England with the
model, which bore Trevithick's name engraved on it, in search of the
engineer who had constructed the wonderful machine, and had the good
luck to find on board the same ship as that in which he made the voyage
a cousin of Trevithick's--a Mr. Teague--who at once put the Don on the
right track. Satisfactory interviews ensued, large orders for engines
were put in hand--pumping-engines, winding-engines, sugar-rolling
engines, and crushing-engines, to the tune of some £16,000. The
anticipated profits were £50,000 a year, and Trevithick was to be paid,
not in money, unluckily for him, but in shares, which were to secure to
him an income of £10,000 per annum.

At length the engines duly arrived at Lima, and were landed under a
salute from the guns of the batteries. But things did not work well.
The men sent out were unaccustomed to the use of wood-fires, and
they failed to carry out all Trevithick's instructions, whereupon he
himself resolved upon going to the rescue; and accordingly he sailed
from Penzance in a South Sea whaler, the _Asp_, on 20th October, 1816,
intending to land at Buenos Ayres and work his way across the South
American continent--an undertaking which, in those days, it need
scarcely be added, was of a most formidable character, and no doubt,
therefore, was all the more attractive to the remarkable man whose
career we have been considering.

On his arrival in Peru, he was received with almost royal honours,
and, at once getting to work, soon set matters to rights; for by the
early part of 1817 there were four engines at work, including that
used for coining at the Mint. An immediate collapse of the whole
undertaking would probably have been the result but for the timely
arrival of 'Don Ricardo,' as he was styled by the natives. Amongst the
difficulties to be overcome in this enterprise may be mentioned those
of transit, and these may be estimated from the facts that the Cerro
de Pasco Mines were 170 miles from Lima, that the roads were for the
most part mule-tracks only, and that the site was 13,400 feet above
the sea! No wonder that, on his eventually triumphing over all these
difficulties, thoughts were seriously entertained of erecting a statue
to him in solid silver, and that, according to Mr. Walker's memoir,
he was made a Marquis and Grandee of Spain. But the whole scheme was
unhappily doomed to failure. Deaths and dissensions took place amongst
the shareholders; Uville died in August, 1818, and the whole brunt of
the management fell upon Trevithick. He now, too, foolishly engaged in
other undertakings whilst his hands were already sufficiently full, and
lost large sums of money in a speculative process for extracting silver
by smelting instead of by amalgamation. Then a war of independence
broke out, and poor Trevithick had the mortification of learning that
the Royalists had actually destroyed his machinery, and flung it--where
he had so often before threatened to fling _his_ enemies--'down into
the shafts.'[155]

This was the death-blow of the affair, and he immediately set to work
on a fresh venture, namely, the raising of the cannon from a Russian
ship which had been sunk near Callao. By this he readily made no less
than £2,500, but--will it be believed?--he forthwith lost it all by
an imprudent speculation in a pearl-fishery at Panama! Some of the
money would have been particularly acceptable to poor Mrs. Trevithick,
whom her thriftless husband had left at Penzance unprovided for; in
fact, he omitted (doubtless from sheer thoughtlessness) to pay, as he
had promised to do, the house-rent a year in advance for her. Another
curious instance of Trevithick's utter incapacity for understanding
business matters appears in the following anecdote. Being very hardly
pressed for payment of some account due from him, he snatched the bill
from his creditor, and writing, 'Received--Richard Trevithick,' at the
foot of it, handed it back to the poor man with an angry exclamation,
in his strong Cornish dialect, of 'There! will that satisfy you?'

A strange episode in his career now occurs. Bolivar actually pressed
him as a soldier; but Trevithick soon 'tir'd of war's alarms,'
and the President readily allowed him to return to more congenial
pursuits, sending him on some special mission to Bogota--yet not
before Trevithick had signalized his connexion with the army by
inventing a most ingenious carbine with an explosive bullet. Whilst in
South America he also became, for the nonce, a surgeon, and actually
amputated both legs of a poor fellow crushed by the fall of some of
Trevithick's heavy machinery. The man was very proud of what he had
undergone, and used to boast of his capital stumps.

Having previously paid a short visit to Chili, Trevithick (who had now
lost all his property) finally left Peru in 1822, on the above-named
special mission; but, distrustful of Bolivar's promises and hearing
of something more to his advantage, as he considered, he made his way
to certain rich mines that he had heard of in Costa Rica instead.
Thither--to that region of snakes, miasma, and earth-quakes--we must
now follow him.

There were known to be rich mines of the precious metals near
Quebradahonda, in the interior of the little tract of mountainous
country which forms part of the narrow belt of land connecting North
and South America; but the difficulties of access in 1826-27 rendered
them almost valueless, and Trevithick and his party conceived the idea
of approaching them from the Atlantic side, by a route which should
be practicable for steam conveyances--namely, by way of San Juan (now
Greytown) and the rivers San Juan de Nicaragua and Serapique. Rafts
and boats were constructed for the descent of those streams, and
fearful hardships and dangers befell the explorers--who were bent upon
accomplishing a somewhat similar task in Central America to that which
Lander had performed a few years before in Western Africa. Three weeks
were spent in accomplishing their object--during which the little party
subsisted on monkeys and wild fruits; and more than once Trevithick,
an indifferent swimmer, but who managed to buoy himself up by bundles
of sticks which he placed under his arms, was nearly drowned. He had
however, at length the gratification of reaching San Juan--the first
European who had made the voyage from Lake Nicaragua to the sea.

By some means or other he contrived to reach Cartagena (de las Indias)
on his homeward journey, disconsolate enough no doubt; but what befell
him on his way is best told in the following letter:

                     'Stanwick, Cumberland, 27th November, 1864.

  'SIR,

  'I read in the public prints that in a speech made by you in Belle
  Vue Gardens you referred to the meeting of Robert Stephenson with
  Trevithick at Carthagena, which, if your speech be correctly reported,
  you attribute to accident. The meeting was not an accident, although
  an accident led to it, and that accident nearly cost Mr. Trevithick
  his life; and he was taken to Carthagena by the gentleman that saved
  him, that he might be restored. When Mr. Stephenson saw him he was so
  recovering; and if he looked, as you say, in a sombre and silent mood,
  it was not surprising, after being, as he said, "half drowned and half
  hanged, and the rest devoured by alligators," which was too near the
  fact to be pleasant. Mr. Trevithick had been upset at the mouth of the
  river Magdalena by a black man he had in some way offended, and who
  capsized the boat in revenge. An officer in the Venezuelan and the
  Peruvian services (Mr. Bruce Napier) was fortunately nigh the banks
  of the river shooting wild pigs. He heard Mr. Trevithick's cries for
  help, and seeing a large alligator approaching him, shot the reptile
  in the eye, and then, as he had no boat, lassoed Mr. Trevithick, and
  by his lasso drew him ashore much exhausted and all but dead. After
  doing all he could to restore him, he took him on to Carthagena, and
  thus it was he fell in with Mr. Stephenson, who, like most Englishmen,
  was reserved, and took no notice of Mr. Trevithick, until an officer
  said to him, meeting Mr. Stephenson at the door, "I suppose the old
  proverb of two of a trade cannot agree is true, by the way you keep
  aloof from your brother chip. It was not thus your father would have
  treated that worthy man, and it is not creditable to your father's son
  that he and you should be here day after day like two strange cats
  in a garret; it would not sound well at home." "Who is it?" said Mr.
  Stephenson. "_The inventor of the locomotive_, your father's friend
  and fellow-worker; his name is Trevithick--you may have heard it,"
  said the officer; and then Mr. Stephenson went up to Trevithick.
  That Mr. Trevithick felt the previous neglect was clear. He had sat
  with Robert Stephenson on his knee many a night while talking to
  his father, and it was through him Robert was made an engineer. My
  informant states that there was not that cordiality between them he
  would have wished to see at Carthagena.

  'The officer that rescued Mr. Trevithick is now living. I am sure
  he will confirm what I say if needful. A letter will find him if
  addressed to No. 4, Earl Street, Carlisle, Cumberland.

  'There are more details, but I cannot state them in a letter, and you
  might not wish to hear them if I could.

              'I am, sir,
                  'Your very obedient servant,
                       'JAMES FAIRBAIRN,

  who writes as well as rheumatic gout will let him.

  'P.S.--I forgot to say the name of the officer is Hall.

  'To E. W. Watkin, Esq., M.P.'

On recognising Stephenson, Trevithick is said to have exclaimed, 'Is
that Bobby!--I've nursed him many a time.' The younger engineer had
£100 in his pocket, and generously gave his senior half of it to
facilitate his return to England, which Trevithick shortly afterwards
accomplished, by way of Jamaica, in the autumn of 1827, landing at
Falmouth on the 9th October, after a weary, anxious absence of eleven
years. His health does not seem to have been much injured; but his
belongings were simply the clothes he stood upright in, a gold watch, a
pair of dividers, a magnetic needle, and a pair of spurs. A friend had
to pay his passage-money before he could leave the ship which brought
him home.

But he had the happiness of finding his wife and their family of four
sons and two daughters all well. The Church bells rang out a merry
peal of welcome; and he was entertained at the houses of all the
principal people in the county. A great deal was said of the handsome
remuneration which was due to him for having been the means, through
his many inventions, of saving Cornwall half a million of money,--but
little or nothing seems to have come of all the talk; and when he
claimed £1,000 from each of the leading mines which had adopted his
machinery, they seem--so far as I can ascertain, with one exception
only--to have repudiated them. The exception to which I refer was a
compromise of his claims by the Messrs. Williams, of Scorrier, in
respect of certain mines in which they were interested, for the sum of
£150. Nor was his petition to Parliament, dated 27th February, 1828,
setting forth his many truly _national_ claims for consideration, and
containing an interesting summary of his inventions (but unfortunately
too long to reproduce here), more successful.

Trevithick was now verging upon sixty years of age, and found that
he had to begin life anew. His first endeavour was to form a company
to work his mines in Costa Rica, but neither he nor his friend
Gerard could succeed in doing this either in England, in France, or
in Holland; and, if the report be true that he refused a cheque for
£8,000 for his share in the mine-grants, he must have lived to repent
it bitterly. However, his busy brain was soon at work again with
inventions. First an iron ship and a gun with friction-slides; then a
recoil gun-carriage, in which he utilized the recoil somewhat after
the manner since so effectually accomplished by Moncrieff; then we
find him suggesting a mode of making ice by steam. Next he invents a
chain-and-ball pump for draining the Dutch marshes; and, soon after,
we hear of his being employed by the Government of that country to
examine into sundry important engineering works which they had in hand,
whilst poor Trevithick had to borrow £2 from a friend to enable him to
get over to Holland for the purpose. It may be mentioned, to show what
a good-natured fellow he was, that he at once gave 5s. out of this to a
poor neighbour who had had the misfortune to lose his pig.

During a great part of this period of his life Trevithick was at Hayle
Foundry, engaged in the construction of the great draining engines
for Holland; but he, nevertheless, found time for further inventions,
notably for applying tubular boilers, a superheating system, and
surface-condensers to marine engines, to say nothing of his proposals
to make the same water act over and over again by alternate expansion
and contraction, so as to avoid the objectionable necessity for using
salt water in the boilers. By his method marine engines occupied only
half their former space; were half the weight; and consumed half the
fuel that they formerly did: and it would scarcely be too much to
say that his genius rendered the first voyage across the Atlantic
practicable. In connexion with this subject, he took out his eighth and
last patent in 1832.

Perhaps his latest project was as original--not to say Utopian--as
any that even his fertile brain ever conceived. It was to erect a
perforated, gilt, cast-iron column, 1,000 feet high, to commemorate
the passing of the Reform Bill. One novel feature in it was the
air-elevator, which worked in a tube in the centre of the column, and
shot the traveller from the base to the summit, on arriving at which
he was to secure a glorious bird's-eye view of London.

But the end was approaching. He had been in indifferent health in
the spring of 1830; and, although his son does not state the causes
of his father's death, there is too much ground to fear that poverty
and misery at least accelerated it. He was at work in April, 1833,
in Messrs. Hall's factory, at Dartford, Kent, probably on one of his
marine engines, when, on the 22nd of that month, somewhat suddenly--for
his relations knew nothing of his illness--the great engineer died. He
was penniless, and was indebted to charity for his grave, and to the
mechanics of Messrs. Hall's factory for becoming the bearers and the
only mourners at his simple funeral.

Unless a tombstone has lately been erected, Richard Trevithick
furnishes another example of one of Cornwall's most illustrious sons
being without a monument to mark where he lies. Is this creditable to
the county, or the country, in which he was born, or to the age which
he so much enriched by the versatile power of his genius?


Since the above was written,--and also since the date of a letter which
I sent to the Cornish papers in June, 1881, calling attention to the
facts above referred to,--endeavours have been made to procure some
fitting record in Cornwall in honour of Trevithick's memory; and an
influential meeting on the subject was held in London on 20th April,
1883.

FOOTNOTES:

[141] A work to which I beg to acknowledge my indebtedness for the main
facts of this notice.

[142] On her wedding finger-ring (the internal diameter of which was
7/8ths of an inch!) her husband had rudely engraved the pretty old
English posy:

    'God above
    Increase our love.'

[143] A very remarkable man. Being anxious to ascertain how castings
were made, in order to substitute cast-iron pumps for the bored wooden
tubes formerly in use in the Cornish mines, he went 'up the country'
for the purpose; but was refused admittance into any of the foundries,
until he hit upon the expedient of dressing himself in rags and
feigning to be half-witted, whereupon he gained employment as a sort of
messenger to the workmen, and thus got an opportunity of acquiring the
much-desired information.

[144] Still largely in use, in almost precisely the form in which he
designed it in 1797.

[145] Cf. Gregory's 'Mechanics;' Ree's 'Cyclopædia;' and Stuart's
'History of the Steam Engine;' Luke Hebert on 'Railways;' Lean's
'Historical Account of the Steam Engine in Cornwall;' Davies Gilbert's
'Observations on the Steam Engine,' in _Philosophical Transactions_,
25 Jan., 1827; 'Memoirs of Distinguished Men of Science in 1807-8,' by
Wm. Walker, junr.; R. Edmonds, junr.'s 'Contributions to the Biography
of R. Trevithick;' the _Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal_ for Oct.,
1859; and _All the Year Round_, 4th Aug., 1860:--for much valuable
technical, and other, information on the subject of Trevithick's
inventions.

[146] Cf. _Engineering_, 27th March, 1868--'Trevithick was the real
inventor of the locomotive;' also Zerah Colburn's 'History of the
Locomotive,' p. 13 (ed. 1871); and O. D. Hedley's 'Who invented the
Locomotive?' (ed. 1858). The second model had a horizontal instead of a
vertical cylinder. His locomotive of 1804, built at Newcastle-on-Tyne,
was specially fitted with flanged wheels for running on a railway.

[147] Sir Humphry Davy spoke of these machines more euphemistically as
Trevithick's 'dragons.'

[148] Trevithick was born April 13th, 1771, and died April 22nd, 1833.
George Stephenson was born June 9th, 1781, and died Aug. 12th, 1848.

[149] Viz., not until 1814--twelve years after Trevithick's locomotive.

[150] Brunel, who afterwards constructed the Thames Tunnel, at Wapping,
is said to have formed the highest opinion of Trevithick's inventive
skill in this operation. (It had been previously attempted by Dodd.)
Trevithick very nearly lost his life when the water flooded the
driftway, owing to his insisting upon seeing all his men safely out
before him.

[151] Trevithick's claim to the invention of the screw-propeller was
disputed.

[152] Earlier attempts were made in 1788 and 1803. The first
remunerative steamboat for passengers seems to have been the _Comet_,
which ran, in 1812, between Glasgow and Helensburgh, on the Clyde.

[153] 'The next step was to call in the aid of Steam to Agriculture.
Steam is almost an Englishman.'--_Emerson._

[154] Trevithick, before leaving England for South America in 1816
being pressed for money, sold a half share of his patent in the
high-pressure steam expansive pole-engine to Messrs. Williams, of
Scorrier, for £200. He remained abroad for ten years.

[155] Some of the remains of the machinery were seen lying about on the
mountain-sides in 1850.




_VIVIAN_,

THE SOLDIER.




[Illustration: (beginning of chapter vignette.)]


_VIVIAN_,

THE SOLDIER.

    'See! through the battle's lurid haze,
    How Vivian, as the trumpet blew,
    Led the last charge at Waterloo.'

                  H. S. STOKES: _Rhymes from Cornwall_.


The nest of the Vivian family was Truro; here our hero was born, and
here resided his father, John Vivian, who may be called the founder of
the copper trade in Cornwall, and who subsequently became Vice-Warden
of the Stannaries: but the present seat of the Vivians is Glynn, the
ancient residence of the Glynn family, from which place the subject
of the following remarks, Richard Hussey, first Baron Vivian of Glynn
and Truro, derived the former of his titles. He derived his second
name from his grandmother, who was a Miss Hussey, of Okehampton; his
grandfather was the Rev. Thomas Vivian, of Comprigney, Kenwyn; he was
vicar of Cornwood, Devon, and was a man of some literary ability.

Well do I remember, when I was quite a youngster, an autumnal visit
in 1842 to the well-wooded valley which Glynn overlooks, and through
which rushes the Fowey, a lovely trout-stream, when the 'fiery finger'
had been laid upon the leaves of the myriad-tinted oaks in its glades;
and when Death had just claimed the owner of that noble mansion. On the
grand staircase hung the great picture by Shee,[156] representing the
lithe figure of the tall, bronzed hero advancing in his hussar uniform,
dismounted and bareheaded, fresh from the 'rapture of the fray;' whilst
in the background was a servant holding a spirited white charger. I
thought then, and think so still, that I had never seen a more goodly
presence.

Vivian's mother was as much distinguished for her beauty and vivacity
as his father was as an upright man of business, and able administrator
of the Stannary laws. She was a daughter of the Rev. Richard Cranch,
vicar of St. Clement's, near Truro, an early friend and patron of
Sir Joshua Reynolds; and, accepting her own admission, must have had
a sufficiency of admirers. 'What a fine creature she was!' said Dr.
Wolcot ('Peter Pindar'). 'I once told her in jest that she _must_ be my
wife, for I had never been so deeply in love before.' 'It is out of the
question, my dear doctor,' she replied; 'it is impossible. I am _five
deep_ already!' The charming buxom profile of the good old lady, who
died in 1816, might until recently have been seen on her cenotaph at
St. Mary's Church, Truro;[157] as well as a medallion portrait, on his
marble tomb (with an epitaph), of her eldest and illustrious son, the
subject of this notice.

He was born at Truro--probably at the house to which reference has just
been made--on 28th July, 1775; and when about eight years old was sent
to the Truro Grammar School under Dr. Cardew. Here, however, he did not
long remain, as we find him from 1784 to 1787 at school at Lostwithiel,
from which place he went direct to Harrow.

Another three years of his life were passed there; and in 1790 he
entered at the old West-Country College--'Exeter'--at Oxford; but he
only kept two terms. His education seems to have been completed by a
visit to France in 1792.

The time had now come for Vivian to choose a profession; and in
this important matter one hardly knows whether to admire more the
liberality of the father, or the instinctive sagacity of the son.
Mr. Vivian wished his heir to follow a pursuit in which distinction
had been gained both by himself and by other members of the family,
and an attempt was made in this direction. Our hero was accordingly
articled to a Mr. Jonathan Elford, a solicitor, of Devonport, with a
view to Vivian's becoming a 'counsellor, learned in the law;' but the
attractions presented by the lives and the uniforms of the officers
of a garrison town were an all-powerful opposing force; and, besides,
Vivian could urge family precedents for a military career; for was not
his great-uncle, Colonel Hussey, amongst the heroes who fell with
Wolfe on the heights of Abraham?[158]

Accordingly, an ensign's commission in the 20th Regiment of Infantry
was procured for him on 31st July, 1793. In the following year he got
a captaincy in the 28th, and was present in all the affairs of that
time between the French and British armies in the Low Countries; his
regiment suffering severe losses at Geldermalsem. In 1795 he returned
to England; and shortly afterwards made an attempt--the second
unsuccessful one--to get with his regiment to the West Indies. But the
war god had other and higher services in store for Vivian; and the
winds and the waves drove back the transports to the British shore.

For the next two years (1796-98) Vivian was doing garrison duty at
Gibraltar. This sort of pursuit must have fretted so high a spirit
as his, and probably led to his exchanging into a cavalry regiment,
the 7th Light Dragoons, or 'Queen's Own' Hussars;--now, at least, he
thought he should be sure to see service. Nor was he disappointed; for
in 1799 he took part in the unfortunate Texel Expedition, under Sir
Ralph Abercombie, one result of which, however, was the capture of
Helder on the 28th August in that year.

To Vivian the piping times of peace during the next four or five years
gave an opportunity for turning his thoughts from war to love; and in
1804 he married his first wife, Eliza, daughter of Philip Champion De
Crespigny, of Aldborough (with whom, so the story goes, he ran off
from a boarding-school). She was descended from an old French family,
refugees from the Edict of Nantes; and the fruit of this marriage was
two sons and three daughters.

The Peninsula was destined to be the scene of Vivian's next exploits;
and in 1808 we find him landing with Sir John Moore at the once busy
port of Corunna. He was engaged in most of the cavalry affairs during
that brief campaign, and led the rear-guard during the historic
retreat in January, 1809, collecting the infantry stragglers to the
number of about 600, forming them, and so repulsing a pursuing enemy,
almost as weak and winter-stricken as themselves. For his skill and
valour on this memorable occasion he obtained the thanks of Sir G.
Paget. He also received high commendation from that gallant hero and
graceful gentleman, Sir John Moore himself, whose masterly tactics were
recognised by his generous antagonist Soult's placing a monument to his
remains on the Corunna ramparts,--celebrated in the ode with which we
have all been familiar from our childhood.

After an interval of repose for about three years in Ireland, during
which he was made Aide-de-camp to the Prince Regent, and attained the
rank of a Colonel in the army, in 1813 Vivian was ordered to take
part in the Peninsular campaign; and, in the August of that year, he
landed at Bilbao--'the beautiful ford'--that scene of so many conflicts
between the French and the Allies. He was now appointed Colonel on the
staff, and had the command of a brigade of cavalry; and in the latter
capacity he was present at most, if not all, of the important cavalry
affairs in that campaign--gathering laurels at Orthes, Vittoria, and in
the Pyrenees.

Vivian particularly distinguished himself in the following year at
Croix d'Orade; of his conduct on that occasion there is no better
description than that which is contained in the following extract from
the Duke of Wellington's despatches to Earl Bathurst:

                               'Toulouse, 12th April, 1814.

  'I have the pleasure to inform your lordship that I entered this
  town this morning, which the enemy evacuated during the night....
  The continued fall of rain and the state of the river prevented me
  from laying the bridge till the morning of the 8th, when the Spanish
  corps and the Portuguese artillery ... crossed the Garonne. We
  immediately moved forward to the neighbourhood of the town; and the
  18th Hussars, under the immediate command of Colonel Vivian, had an
  opportunity of making a most gallant attack upon a superior body of
  the enemy's cavalry, which they drove through the village of Croix
  d'Orade, and took about one hundred prisoners, and gave us possession
  of an important bridge over the river Ers, by which it was necessary
  to pass in order to attack the enemy's position. Colonel Vivian was
  unfortunately wounded upon this occasion, and I am afraid that I shall
  lose the benefit of his assistance for some time.'

For this affair he bore on his coat of arms (amongst other allusions to
his brave deeds) a flying pennon inscribed with golden letters, 'Croix
d'Orade.' The wound referred to by the Duke was from a carbine-shot in
the right arm.

It is curious to contrast the Great Duke's appreciative eulogy of this
brilliant exploit with Napier's sour version of it in his 'English
Battles and Sieges in the Peninsula' (p. 453, ed. 1873): 'In this
operation a single squadron of the 18th Hussars, under Major Hughes,
being _inconsiderately_ pushed by Colonel Vivian across the bridge
of St. Martin de la Touch, suddenly came upon a regiment of French
cavalry. The rashness of the act, as often happens in war, proved the
safety of the British; for the enemy, thinking a strong support must
be near, discharged their carbines, and retreated at a canter. Hughes
followed; the speed of both parties increased; and as the road did
not admit egress by the sides, this great body of horsemen was pushed
headlong by a few men under the batteries of St. Cyprian.'

When the late Chaplain-General Gleig disputed a statement of Napier's
relating to the battle of Vimiero, the latter writer fell back on
the authority of the Duke of Wellington, which, of course, Napier
preferred to that of Gleig, adding tartly, that 'the two authorities
may be weighed by those who are fastidious.' A similar process may be
recommended as to Wellington and Napier's authority touching Vivian's
share in the affair at Croix d'Orade. It may also be well to add the
significant fact that the 18th Hussars presented Vivian with a sword of
honour on the occasion.

The year 1814 was further memorable in our hero's annals. The
Transitory Peace was signed; Vivian was promoted to the rank of
Major-General; returned to England; and was appointed to the command
of the Sussex Military District, taking up his residence at Brighton.
On thus giving up his connexion with the Hussars, his brother officers
presented him with a piece of plate worth 250 guineas.


The curtain rises upon the eventful year 1815--the year in which
Napoleon's ambitious career was to be at once and for ever checked by
the Iron Duke on the field of WATERLOO.

Vivian, now a Knight Commander of the Bath, was the first major-general
sent in command of a brigade of cavalry to join the army assembling at
Brussels; and did 'yeoman's service' during the few days which preceded
the great battle, notably covering the retreat (as at Corunna) of the
army whilst falling back from Quatre Bras on Waterloo.

It would of course be out of place here (even if the familiar histories
of the great battle, given by Siborne, Alison, and Hooper, had not also
made it unnecessary) to attempt any description of that world-renowned
fight. But Vivian's share in it demands more than a passing notice;
and this I have drawn up from the authorities whom I have mentioned,
as well as after having made a visit to the field of battle; and from
other sources.

It may be premised that, at Waterloo, Vivian commanded the 6th Brigade
of Cavalry of the British and King's German Legion. It was composed
of the 1st, 10th, and 18th Hussars, numbering, according to Siborne,
1,279 sabres. They were at first stationed on the _extreme left_ of the
first or main portion of the British line. The 10th and 18th regiments
were in line in rear of the road to Wavre, and withdrawn a little from
the crest of the ridge, the right of the 10th resting upon a lane. The
1st Hussars were also in line, and formed the reserve. The extreme left
of this brigade was completely _en l'air_ (_i.e._, unsupported), upon
high, open, and flat ground. A piquet, consisting of a squadron of the
10th, occupied the village of Smohain, and their vedettes were within
half-carbine-shot of some of the French cavalry. Vandeleur's brigade of
light horse was on Vivian's right.

But the frequent and furious charges of the enemy made it necessary,
as the anxious, bloody day wore on, to strengthen the Duke's left
centre; and accordingly in the sheet of Siborne's Atlas representing
the field at a quarter before eight p.m., when the Prussians had begun
to arrive, Vivian's cavalry appear as then occupying the _middle_ of
the much-weakened British force, close at the rear of the Brunswickers
and Nassauers. This change of position was effected on Vivian's own
responsibility, and to the great satisfaction of the Duke; for when
these fresh troops took up their position, the British cavalry had been
reduced to mere skeletons of regiments. It is not difficult to fancy
how long the day must have seemed to the fiery Hussars, who had not yet
struck one blow, and who were anxiously longing for the opportunity of
displaying their own valour, and of avenging the deaths of their slain
comrades.

They were not to wait much longer, as we shall presently see; for,
twenty minutes later, Vivian, instead of being at the rear of the
British army, was at its head, sabring the Imperial Guard:--'Oh the
wild charge they made!' It must be borne in mind that the crisis
of the battle had arrived; and Napoleon, like a desperate gambler,
had risked his all by sending his masses of reserves against the
attenuated British regiments, with instructions, _at all hazards_, to
force the centre, in the rear of which Vivian had placed himself, in
a most trying position for cavalry, exposed as they were to the fire
of the French tirailleurs. His first impression, on contemplating the
destruction which he saw around him, was that he had come, once more,
to cover a retreat of the Anglo-allied army: and, indeed, but for the
exertions of himself and others--actually using the flats of their
sabres--the contemptible Dutch-Belgian troops, who formed Wellington's
second line, would have probably fled from the field, and have left a
hideous and fatal gap in the British line.

But Adams's infantry brigade had swept, like a triumphant wave, the
front of the Allied line, and the moment had arrived when a daring
charge by fresh cavalry against the shattered Imperial Guard and the
French cavalry reserves round La Belle Alliance, was all that was
wanting to secure the impending victory. Vivian was the happy man upon
whom this glorious task devolved. He moved out to the rear of Alten's
division, and thus clearing himself from the British infantry, advanced
directly to the front by the right of Maitland's brigade of Guards.
His orders from the Duke were not to attack till the infantry came up
to his support, unless he was '_confident of success_.'

At this juncture, Sir Hussey Vivian--encouraged by the cheers of
his comrades, heard above the fierce trumpet-blasts, by the ringing
of scabbards as the swords leaped forth, and by the victorious omen
bestowed by a crimson gleam of the rapidly setting sun, which now
pierced and incarnadined the smoke and clouds--charged in echelons of
regiments; the 10th, headed by himself, leading: and with that regiment
he dispersed and drove in the cavalry posted in the front and on the
left of the squares of the Old Guard. No sooner was this done, than,
galloping to his left, he led on the 18th, also in person, against the
Cuirassiers of De Lorte, who were on the right of that veteran body;
the 1st Hussars of the German Legion following. In a few minutes the
dazzling helmets of the French Cuirassiers and the spears of their
Lancers were seen scattered in every direction! At the same time the
2nd King's German Legion, which Wellington had moved up to support
Vivian, successfully charged a body of Cuirassiers on the right of
the 10th; and although this corps was in its turn assailed by fresh
Cuirassiers, and thrown into disorder, it quickly rallied, and soon
drove the French off that part of the field. The squares of the Guard
were thus laid bare, and the artillery in the intervals opened a heavy
fire on the British horse; but Vivian, dashing on, captured the guns,
twenty-four in number, _before any foot-soldier on his left arrived_.
Then, seeing the Osnaburgh red-coats coming up to his support, he
ventured to attack the squares themselves. Such was the ardour of the
men, that a squadron of the 10th, having re-formed after taking the
artillery, and Vivian himself leading them, charged one of the squares
with unparalleled vehemence. That attack was, after a short struggle,
at first repulsed by the steady fire of the veteran French grenadiers.
The French square, nevertheless, fell back after the shock, still
keeping up a rolling fire on its opponents, who never ceased to cut at
them till they too were lost in the crowd of fugitives. About this time
Vandeleur's brigade came up. It charged upon Vivian's right, defeating
a body of French infantry, who were formed in square, and who were
endeavouring to restore the battle in that quarter; but the rout was
now complete.

Wellington, encouraged by the rapid and beautiful style in which
Vivian's brigade advanced, and by the brilliant success of the attack,
now ordered, amid the enthusiastic cheering of the troops, the
long-looked-for general advance of the whole line. That this was, as
Siborne well describes it, 'a march of triumph rather than of attack,'
is matter of history. The battle of Waterloo was won; and the British
General's prediction was verified, in the words of Scott, that 'England
should tell the fight.'

That night Vivian and his exhausted Hussars, satiated with their bloody
victory, bivouacked in advance of the main body of the English at the
little village of Hilaincourt; while the fresh Prussian troops followed
up the retreat of the flying French.

One or two episodes in this memorable achievement have been recorded by
Captain Malet, in his 'History of the 18th Hussars.' As at Balaclava,
there came an order which

  'Some one had blunder'd:'

the leading half-squadron, in the final charge, was wheeling in
precisely the wrong direction, which Vivian perceiving, at once rode up
to rectify, exclaiming, says Malet, 'with emphasis, and a good hearty
d----, that it was _towards_ the enemy he wanted them to wheel!'

Again, after the 18th regiment had been led to the charge, Vivian, on
returning (with his arm in a sling, the result of the wound at Croix
d'Orade) to lead on the 10th also, was intercepted by a straggling
French cuirassier, who cut at the English General. Taking his reins,
however, in his right hand, which was barely able to grasp them, Vivian
not only parried the blow with his sword in his left hand, but also
contrived to wound his antagonist in the neck. This unequal combat
might possibly have ended fatally for the gallant Cornishman, had not
his German orderly galloped up at this moment, and cut the luckless
Frenchman down.

Vivian's own account of the affair, as contained in the following
extract from a letter written by him soon after the battle to Mr.
Pendarves, will probably be read with interest:

          'St. Benir, in part of the Château, 23rd June, 1815.

  '... About six o'clock, however, I learnt that the cavalry in the
  centre had suffered dreadfully, and the Prussians about that time
  having formed to my left, I took upon myself to move off from our
  left, and halted directly to the centre of our line, where I arrived
  most opportunely at the instant that Bonaparte was making his last
  and most desperate effort; and never did I witness anything so
  terrific--the ground actually covered with dead and dying, cannon-shot
  and shells flying thicker than I ever heard even musketry before,
  and our troops some of them giving way. In this state of affairs, I
  wheeled my brigade into line, close (within ten yards) in the rear of
  our infantry, and prepared to charge the instant they had retreated
  through my intervals (the three squadron officers of the 10th were
  wounded at this instant); this, however, gave them confidence, and the
  brigades that were literally running away halted on our cheering them,
  and again began firing. The enemy on their part began to waver; the
  Duke observed it, and ordered the infantry to advance. I immediately
  wheeled the brigade by half-squadrons to the right and in column over
  the dead and dying, trotted round the right of our infantry, passed
  the French infantry, and formed lines of regiments on the first
  half-squadrons.

  'With the 10th I charged a body of French Cuirassiers and Lancers
  infinitely superior to them, and completely routed them. I then went
  to the 18th, and charged a second body that was supporting a square
  of Imperial Guards; and the 18th not only defeated them, but took
  fourteen pieces of cannon that had been firing grape at us during our
  movement. I then, with the 10th, having re-formed them, charged a
  square of infantry (Imperial Guards), the men of which we cut down in
  the ranks; and here the last shot was fired. From this moment all was
  _de route_.

  'Whether the Duke will do my brigade justice or not, I know not; but
  Bonaparte has given them their due in his account. We are the cavalry
  that he alludes to, where at the end he says, "At eight o'clock,"
  etc.; and the Colonel of the 3rd Chasseurs, who lodged the night
  before last in the house I occupied, last night told the proprietor
  "that two regiments of British Hussars decided the affair."[159] The
  third regiment (1st Hussars) I kept in reserve.

  'Of course, our loss was severe. All those returned missing are since
  ascertained to have been killed.

  'I never saw such a day, nor anyone else. I expect and hope that every
  soldier will bear a medal with "Mont St. Jean" on it. I would rather
  do so than be adorned by the brightest star that any potentate could
  bestow on me....

    'To Wynne Pendarves, Esq.,
    'No. 11, Queen Anne Street, London.'

For his services on this occasion Vivian received the following
decorations: viz., the Order of Maria Theresa from the Emperor of
Austria; the Order of St. Wladimir from the Emperor of Russia; and
that of Hanover from the Prince Regent.

In his despatch dated 'Waterloo, 19th June, 1815,' the day after that
great and glorious victory, the Duke says that the British army 'never,
upon any occasion, conducted itself better.... There is no officer
nor description of troops that did not behave well. I must, however,
particularly mention, for his Royal Highness's approbation----' Here
follows a list of heroic and illustrious names; amongst which Truro men
especially, but also all Cornishmen, and all Englishmen, ever read,
with glowing pride, the name of our own hero, Major-General Sir Hussey
Vivian.

A brother-officer of Vivian's (Colonel Taylor, of the 10th Hussars)
wrote the following lines on the occasion:

    'From the left flank, in column, winding far,
    Speeds with a whirlwind's force the swift hussar;
    Tho' to their thund'ring hoofs the plain resounds
    Still cautious discipline their ardour bounds.
    Who, with a hero's port and lofty form,
    With waving sabre onward guides the storm?
    While through the tangled corn and yielding clay
    His spurs incessant urge his panting grey[160]--
    'Tis VIVIAN, pride of old Cornubia's hills,
    His veins the untainted blood of Britons fills.
    Him follows close a Manners,[161] glorious name,
    In him a Granby's soul aspires to fame,
    Or such as erst, when Rodney gained the day,
    Ebb'd from his kinsman's wound the life away.
    "Front form the line!" cries VIVIAN; still its course
    The head maintained; the rear with headlong force
    Speeds at the word, till troops to troops combine,
    And each firm squadron forms the serried line.'

His subsequent connexion with the Waterloo campaign may be briefly
summed up in the statements that he led the advanced guard of the
British army all the way from Waterloo to the gates of Paris; and that,
on the restoration of Louis XVIII., his brigade formed part of the
allied army of occupation in Picardy--services less brilliant perhaps
than those which have just been described, yet certainly most useful
and important.

But the reception accorded to 'the Warrior of the West' by his native
town, after the battle of Waterloo, should not pass unnoticed. Towards
the latter part of July (the 27th was, I believe, the day) Vivian
returned home for a short time; and when it was known that he was
approaching Truro, which was _en fête_ on the occasion, numbers of the
inhabitants went out to meet him, and, taking the horses out of his
carriage, dragged it in triumph through the streets. Several of the
townsfolk had assembled at Mr. Vivian's house, to greet the victorious
hero on his return. Amongst them was the writer's mother--then quite a
young girl--whom the tall, strong man lifted up in his arms as if she
had been an infant, and embracing her, exclaimed to those around him,
'There! believe me, that's the first kiss I've had since the battle of
Waterloo!' His speech to the populace on this occasion could not be
reported, for the air was rent by their shouts; and I should judge,
from the contemporary accounts, that a similar enthusiasm prevailed on
the occasion of the public dinner which was given to him at the Truro
Assembly Rooms on the 31st July.


The army returned to England in 1818; and with it Vivian, who now
found himself, for the first time in twenty-three years, unemployed.
Great reductions in the military establishments, of course, took
place; and on the 10th September, 1821, the 18th Hussars was, amongst
other regiments, disbanded. On this occasion he was presented by the
_soldiers_ with a silver trumpet purchased out of the proceeds of the
sale of horses which had been captured by the regiment during the
Peninsular campaign.

It seems hardly necessary to dwell upon the facts of his having been
despatched in 1819 to Newcastle-on-Tyne, and thence to Glasgow, for
the purpose of quelling riots which had broken out at those places; it
will suffice to mention that the service was promptly and efficiently
performed.

The University of Oxford in the following year accorded to him the high
honour of the degree of D.C.L., which, however, for some reason, he
does not seem to have taken until fourteen years afterwards. In 1820 he
was elected a Member of Parliament for his native town, and represented
it for five or six years.

In 1827 he received a Colonelcy of the Life Guards; and in the
following year he was created a baronet--a coat of arms full of
heraldic allusions to his distinguished career being at the same time
granted to him.

For the five years, 1825-30, Vivian represented Windsor in the House
of Commons; but the failing health of Lady Vivian, and his appointment
to the command of the forces in Ireland, caused him to retire from
Parliament. It is said that during this period he was offered the
post of Secretary-at-War, but that he declined it on account of his
preference for the more active duties of his profession. Whilst in
Parliament he seldom failed to speak on all military questions; he also
took part in the debates on Catholic Emancipation (of which he was a
supporter), and on the distress which prevailed in the country in 1830.
Polwhele thought highly of his fluent eloquence; and I am told by Mr.
H. S. Stokes that Vivian was remarkably successful in his addresses to
election mobs. In this year he attained the rank of Lieutenant-General;
and about the same time William IV. made him a Grand Cross of the Royal
Hanoverian Order of Guelph.

In 1833 (the first Lady Vivian having died) Vivian married a second
time; the lady of his choice being Lætitia, third daughter of the
Rev. J. A. Webster, by whom he had one daughter, Lalage. Four years
afterwards he again entered Parliament, this time as a representative
of the Eastern Division of Cornwall; having, however, been previously
made a Privy Councillor in 1834, and having filled, with distinction,
for four or five years the historic post of Master-General of the
Ordnance.


Little remains to be told of his history. On his retirement from the
above post, he was created a peer, and took his seat in the Upper
House as Baron Vivian of Glynn and Truro, the patent being dated 11th
August, 1841. His last-earned honour he did not enjoy for more than a
year; for, on the 20th August, 1842, he died suddenly at Baden-Baden.

On the 13th of the following month the little town of Truro presented a
doleful contrast to that which it bore some twenty-seven years before,
when her brave son returned in the full flush of victory. All business
was entirely suspended in order that the townsfolk might receive, at
the town quay, Vivian's mortal remains; they were brought up the river
from Falmouth, and carried to the church, which was draped in black.
He was buried at St. Mary's Cemetery, in the same vault with his
father and mother, against the eastern wall of the enclosure; but no
inscription marks the spot. His epitaph which was in St. Mary's Church
(now the new cathedral), need not be inserted here, for his career
has been described in the foregoing pages, and it will be perhaps
sufficient to quote the description of his character as summarized by
Dr. Wolcot--no lenient critic:

 'An excellent officer, and, better still, a kind, brave, honourable,
 and good man.'

FOOTNOTES:

[156] Engraved by Meyer. A copy of the print hangs in the Museum of the
Royal Institution of Cornwall, a building which now occupies the site
of the Vivians' Truro residence and Copper Office.

[157] Sir Joshua also immortalized the fair Betsy Cranch by a portrait
of her, painted in her prime, in 1763.

[158] Hussey was a name early celebrated in the annals of England;
_e.g._, a Sir William Hussey was Lord Chief Justice in the reign of
Edward IV.

[159] Gourgaud, Napoleon's aide-de-camp, as well as other French
military critics, ascribe their loss of the battle of Waterloo mainly
to the charge of Vivian's brigade on the flank of the Old Guard, after
the repulse of the middle guard. 'These three thousand cavalry,' says
Gourgaud, '_prevented all rallying_.'

[160] He rode on this occasion a milk-white troop-horse of the 10th
Hussars.

[161] Colonel Lord Robert Manners.




[Illustration: (vignette at beginning of index.)]


INDEX.


  A

  Acland, Sir Thomas Dyke, i. 98.

  Acton Church, Godolphin tombs at, i. 353.

  Adams, Mr., the astronomer, ii. 226 _note_.

  Africa, remarks on access to the interior of, and its probable
      results, ii. 216, 217.

  Albalanda family, i. 194, 195.

  Albercombe, ii. 6 _note_.

  Alford, Dean, his lines on Martyn, ii. 239.

  ALLEN, RALPH, his birthplace and parentage, i. 3.
    appointment to the Post Office, 4.
    detects a Jacobite plot, 4.
    marries Miss Earl, 4.
    invents cross-posts, 5.
    his enormous profits by it, 5-8.
    his Coombe Down quarries, 8.
    Mayor of Bath, 8.
    portraits of him, 8, 17.
    builds mansion at Prior Park, 9.
    his literary and social friends, 9.
    his connexion with Fielding, 9.
    do. with Pope, 3, 10, 16-18.
    do. with Warburton, 10.
    do. with General Wade, 4, 13.
    do. with Pitt, 13-15.
    his second wife, 14.
    his political views, 16.
    raises a corps of volunteers, 16, _note_.
    his generosity, 17-19, _note_.
    house at Weymouth, 18.
    house at Bathampton, i. 18.
    his building propensities, 19.
    his son Philip comptroller of the Bye-Letter Office, 22.
    buried at Claverton, 22.
    his personal appearance, 23.
    his character, 24, 25.
    his descendants, 25, 26.

  Almanza, battle of, ii. 174.
    its peculiar features, 175.

  Alverton (Penzance), i. 293.

  Amerideth, Judith, i. 351.

  Amherst, General, at Louisbourg, i. 224.

  Anderson, his opinion of George Grenville as a poet, ii. 83.

  Anne, Queen, Godolphin's administration of her affairs, i. 379.

  Anson, Lord, his jealousy of Admiral Boscawen, i. 215, 216 _note_,
      220.

  ANSTIS, JOHN, his extraction, i. 29.
    his birthplace, 30.
    his various appointments, 30-32.
    his works on Heraldry, 30, 31.
    created Garter King at Arms, 30.
    his fragments of a history of Cornwall, 31.
    do. of Launceston, 31.
    his MSS. and other works, 31.
    his imprisonment, 31, 32.
    his death and burial-place, 32.
    his son and successor in office, 32.
    his portraits, 33.
    his wife, 33.
    buys Tremodret, 46 _note_.
    See also _Errata and Addenda_.

  Antrewan family, i. 344.

  Apreece, Mrs., i. 269.

  Argallez, or Arallas, manor of, ii. 285.

  Arthur. King, xiv.

  ARUNDELLS. Their origin and early importance, i. 19, 42.
    settlement in Cornwall, 37, 41, 77.
    origin of the name, 39, 40; ii. 5, 39.
    their connexion with the Grenvilles, i. 87.
    do. with Lanherne, 45.
    of Tolverne, 99-102, 195.
    their connexion with Tolverne, 46.
    Sir John, of Tolverne, ii. 124.
    of Trerice, i. 76-99.
    their connexion with Trerice, 46.
    of Wardour, their origin, etc., 56, 57.
    Sir Ralph, 41.
    John, builder of part of St. Columb church, 41.
    often Sheriffs of Cornwall, 41.
    Sir John, the magnificent, 43. his will, 43.
    Roger (temp. Will. I.), 45.
    William, 45.
    John (temp. Richard II.), 47.
      his descendants, 54.
      his violation of a nunnery, 47.
      his shipwreck and death, 48.
      Thos. Walsingham's account, 47.
      Froissart's account, 48.
    Sir John (temp. Hen. IV. and V.), 50-101.
    Sir John (temp. Hen. VI.), his riches, 50.
    John, Bishop of Exeter, 50.
    John, Bishop of Chichester, 53.
    Sir John, knight-banneret of Therouenne, 54.
      his wife and daughter, 55.
    Mary, the authoress, 55.
    Sir John, patron of Father Cornelius, 55.
      his daughters, Dorothy and Gertrude, 56.
      his son, 72.
    Sir Thomas, Count of the Empire, and first Baron Arundell of
        Wardour, 58.
    Humphrey, leader of the Cornish rebellion, 59.
    George, a recusant, 73.
    Sir Oliver de, i. 80.
    Sir John, of Trerice (temp. Hen. V.), 80.
      besieges St. Michael's Mount, 81.
      is killed on the sands there, 81.
    Sir John, 'Jack of Tilbury,' 82-103.
      buried at Stratton, 87.
      his son Roger, 85.
      his grandson John, 85.
    Raynulfe (temp. Hen. III.), 87, 101 _note_.
    Sir Thomas, a Commissioner for the suppression of religious houses,
        88.
      his grant from Henry VIII. of the Scilly Isles, 90.
      committed to the Tower, 88.
      executed on Tower Hill, 89.
    Sir John (temp. Elizabeth), 90.
    Sir John, 'John for the King' (temp. Chas. I.), defender of
        Pendennis Castle, 91, 95, 97.
      his gallant letter to Fairfax, 93.
    Richard, Lord Arundell of Trerice, 91, 95, 96.
      Lord John, his son, 97.
    the Honble. Richard, M. P., 98.
      his appointments, 98.
    Lady Francis, during the earthquake of 1750, 98.
    Sir Thomas, of Tolverne, 101.
    Thomas, Esq. (will dated 1552), 102.
    John (will dated 1598), 102.
    Sir Thomas, of Tolverne (temp. James I.), 102.
    Colonel John (temp. Charles II.), 102.
    THE MINOR, 103.
    Robert, of Menadarva, 103.
    Francis, of Trengwainton, 104.
    Captain Francis (temp. Commonwealth), 104.
    of Trevithick, 105.
    Thomas (temp. 1620), 105.
    decay of the family, 105.
    William, marries Dorothy Palæologus, 106.
    Charles, one of the last of the name, 106.
    See also _Errata and Addenda_.

  Arwenack, i. 92.

  Arwenack, ii. 117, 119, 120, 126, 127, 130 _note_, 148.


  B

  Bacon, Lord, on Biographies, x.
    his observation on the last fight of the _Revenge_, ii. 98.
    ii. 148 _note_.

  Bael, Jemima, ii. 153.

  Baker, his opinion of Foote, i. 312.

  Ballard, his reference to Anne Killigrew, ii. 195.

  Barfell (see _Varfel_).

  Barrowby, Dr., his description of Foote, i. 316.

  Bartolozzi, his portrait by Opie, ii. 245 _note_.

  BASSET FAMILY, ii. 5, 39, 281, 283.
    their Norman origin, i. 111-112.
    Cove, alias Portreath, 115-134.
    Sir Arthur, 118 _note_.
    Francis, Baron de Dunstanville and Basset, 111, 112, 130-136.
    Frances, Baroness, 136.
    Sir Francis, M.P., Sheriff and Vice-Admiral of Cornwall, and
        Governor of St. Michael's Mount, 118.
      his letters to his wife, 92, 120, 121.
    Colonel Francis, a Puritan, 123.
    Francis, Sheriff of Cornwall, 1708, 123, 197.
    Francis, M.P. (temp. 1730), 125.
    George, M.P., son of Sir John Basset, of Umberleigh, 118.
    General Sir Thomas, 118 _note_.
    Gilbert, 113 _note_.
    Gustavus Lambert, 130, 136.
    William, of Ipsden, 113.
    J., (temp. 1435), 115.
    Sir John (temp. 1478), 114.
    J. P. (temp. 1734), 116.
    John, the Rev., 128.
    John, M.P., his son (died 1843), 128.
    John, of Tehidy, sells St. Michael's Mount, ii. 285 _note_.
    John, Sheriff of Cornwall, (temp. Hen. VII.), i. 117, 174.
    John, son of Vice-Admiral Sir Francis, 122.
    Sir Lawrence (temp. 1277), 115.
    Osmund (temp. Will. I.), 112.
    Osmund (temp. Hen. I.), i. 111.
    Ralph (temp. Edward I.), 114.
    Sir Ralph, father of Osmund, Justiciary of Hen. I., 111.
    Thomas, his son, Justiciary of Hen. III., 113.
    Thurstan, 111.
    William (temp. Hen. IV.), 114.
    Sir William (temp. 1382), 115.
    William (temp. Edw. III.), 114.

  Bateman, Viscount, an early friend of Opie, ii. 251.

  Bath (see _Allen_).

  Bathampton Church, restored by Ralph Allen, i. 22.
    a tablet there to his memory, 22.

  Bathurst, Dr., Bishop of Norwich, i. 131.

  'Bayliffe of Blackmore,' The, i. 195.

  Beaumont, Rev., his life of Dean Grenville, ii. 80 _note_.

  Beddoes, Dr., i. 255.

  Bedruthan steps and sands, ii. 310.

  Beling, Richard, assumes name of Arundell, i. 58.

  Berippa, Manor of, ii. 285.

  Berkeley House, i. 372 _note_.

  Berkeley, Lord and Lady, i. 372.

  Bernard, his remarks on Incledon, ii. 91.

  Betham, Elizabeth, i. 144.

  Bevill family, i. 344; ii. 5, 6, 10, 30, 281.

  Bevill, Mary, i. 87.

  Bewes family, their connexion with Anstis, i. 33.

  Bibliotheca Cornubiensis, xii., 288, 353 _note_; ii. 5.

  Bideford, ii. 4.

  Blagge, pedigree of the family, i. 370 _note_.

  Blagge, Margaret (see _Margaret Godolphin_), i. 362.

  Blazey, St., i. 3.

  Bligh (or Blygh) of Bodmin, i. 140.
    Admiral Sir Richard Rodney, i. 140.

  BLIGH, ADMIRAL WM., i. 139-147.
    a Cornish circumnavigator, 139.
    his birthplace and parentage, 140.
    sails with Captain Cook in the _Resolution_, 140.
    becomes a lieutenant in the navy, 140.
    commands the _Bounty_, and sails for Otaheite, 141.
    is seized and cast adrift by his crew, i. 141.
    reaches Timor, 141.
    reaches England, 142.
    his skill, resource, and courage, 142.
    account of the voyage, 142 _note_.
    is made Post Captain, and appointed to the _Providence_, 142.
    sails for the Society Islands, 142.
    receives gold medal of the Society of Arts, 142.
    at the mutiny at the Nore, 143.
    his naval services, 143.
    receives Nelson's thanks at Copenhagen, 143.
    is elected F.R.S., 143.
    is appointed Governor of New South Wales, 143.
    his arbitrary temper leads to his deposition and imprisonment, 144.
    is made Rear-Admiral of the Blue, 144.
    dies at Farningham, 144.
    his wife, 144.
    his children, 145, 146.
    his character, 145.
    his interview with George III., 145.
    his house at Farningham, 146.
    his ghost! 147.

  Blowing-house, ii. 245 _note_.

  Blue-Stocking Club, its origin, i. 239.

  Boaden, his account of Opie, ii. 276.

  Boase, G. C., xii.

  Boase, Rev. C. W., his Registers of Exeter College, xii., ii. 5.

  Bodmin, i. 368.

  Bochym, Robert, of Bochym, i. 64.

  Boconnoc Park, ii. 43 _note_.

  Bodrugan, ix.

  Bolton, Charles I., Duke of, i. 176.

  BONAVENTURA, THOMASINE, i. 151-157.
    her connexion with the City of London churches, 151, 152.
    do. with Stratton Church, 153.
    her college and chantry, 153-156 _note_.
    her birthplace, 154.
    her first husband, 154.
    builds a bridge to his memory, 155.
    her second husband, i. 155.
    her third husband, 156.
    is Lady Mayoress of London, 156.
    retires to Week St. Mary, 156.
    her fancied relation to John Dineham, 157.
    Carew's account of her bounteous charity, 157.
    makes her will in 1510, 156.
    suppression of her chantry, 157.

  Bone, C. K., i. 166.

  BONE, HENRY, R.A., i. 161-166.
    his parentage, 161.
    as china-painter, 161, 162.
    marries Elizabeth Vandermeulen, 163.
    first exhibits at the Royal Academy, 163.
    large size of his enamels, 163, 164.
    is elected a R.A., 164.
    sells one of his enamels for 2,200 guineas, 164.
    his series of historical portraits, 164.
    his various residences in London, 164 _note_.
    receives the Academy pension, 165.
    sales of his works, 165.
    his death, 165.
    his family, 165.
    his character, 166.
    J. J. Rogers's list of his works, 166.
    his portraits, 166; ii. 245 _note_.
    Henry Pierce, i. 165.
    Peter, 166.
    Robert Trewick, 166.
    Thomas, 166.
    W., 166.
    Walter, 161.
    See also _Errata and Addenda_.

  Bonython, xiv. and _note_, i. 99, 347.

  Borlase, Captain in King Charles I.'s army, ii. 39 _note_.
    Colonel William, i. 171.
    John, of Pendeen, i. 172, 173.
    Dr. J. B., i. 253.
    Humphry, created a peer by James II., i. 172.
    Dr. Walter, i. 178, 179.

  BORLASE, REV. DR. WM., i. 169-187.
    origin of the family, 170.
    meaning of the name, 171.
    his birthplace and parentage, i. 172.
    his youth and education, 174, 175.
    goes to Exeter College, Oxford, 175.
    his sketch of Oxford in his own days, 175.
    his journey to Cornwall with Sir John St. Aubyn, 176; ii. 287.
    is presented to Ludgvan, 176,
      to St. Just, 179.
    his favourite authors, 177.
    his correspondents, 181.
    his mode of studying the Cornish antiquities, 177.
    his wife, 177.
    his companions, 180.
    his squabble with Rev. John Wesley, 179.
    elected F.R.S., 181.
    prints his Cornish Antiquities, 182.
    do. his account of the Scilly Islands, 182.
    do. his 'Natural History of Cornwall,' 182.
    is made LL.D., 183.
    his old age and last pursuits, 183.
    his death and epitaph, 185.
    his family, 185.
    his view of Godolphin Hall, 341.
    Burgess, i. 171 _note_.

  Bosaverne, Thomasine, an ancestress of Richard Lander, ii. 201.

  Boscastle, ii. 4.

  BOSCAWENS, THE, i. 99, 191-206, 345.
    their origin, 192.

  BOSCAWEN, ADMIRAL, i. 191, 202, 205, 206-237.
    his birthplace and youth, 207.
    his portrait, 207.
    enters the navy, 207.
    his determined courage, 209.
    at Porto Bello, 210.
    at Carthagena, 211.
    marries Frances Evelyn Glanville, 213.
    elected M.P., 214.
    captures the French frigate _Medea_, 214.
    is wounded off Cape Finisterre, 215.
    Anson's jealousy of him, 215, 216 _note_, 220.
    sails for Port Louis and Pondicherry, i. 217.
    is made Lord Commissioner of the Admiralty, 219.
    his action with the French off Cape Ray, 220.
    takes M. Hocquart prisoner for the third time, 221.
    commands a squadron in the Bay of Quiberon, 222.
    attacks and captures Louisbourg, 223 _et seq._, 227 _et seq._
    rejoicings thereupon in London, 225.
    receives the thanks of Parliament, 226.
    action with the French in Lagos Bay, 229 _et seq._
    his tactics, 231 _note_.
    his later honours, 233.
    at Quiberon again, 234.
    his death, epitaph, and character, 234-237.

  Boscawen, Capt. in King Charles I.'s army, ii. 39 _note_.
    Charles, barrister, i. 193.
    Edward (temp. Charles II.), i. 196.
    Edward Hugh, M.P., i. 202.
    Elizabeth, Duchess of Beaufort, i. 204.
    Edward, fourth Viscount and first Earl, i. 202.
    Evelyn, sixth Viscount, i. 206.
    Frances (Honble. Mrs. J. Leveson Gower), i. 204.
    George Evelyn, third Viscount Falmouth, i. 133, 202, 203.
    General John, i. 200.
    Honble. George, at Dettingen and Fontenoy, i. 200.
    George Henry, fifth Viscount and second and last Earl, i. 205.
    Henry de (1292), i. 193.

  BOSCAWEN, THE HON. MRS. i. 133.
    the 'blue-stocking,' 205.
    her fondness for the sea, 237.
    her parentage, 238.
    her character, 238.
    her membership of the Blue-stocking Club, 239.
    Boswell's opinion of her, 239.
    her vivacity, 240.
    her politics, 240.
    her latter days and death, 241-243.
    her remarks on Opie's portrait of Lady Jerningham, ii. 261.
    Hugh (temp. Will. III.), Baron Boscawen Rose and Viscount Falmouth,
        i. 197.
    Sir Hugh, M.P. (1626), i. 196.
    Hugh, second Viscount, i. 198.
    Hugh, M.A., i. 192.
    Hugh (temp. Mary), i. 192 _note_, 195.
    John de, i. 194.
    John Francis, Sheriff of Cornwall in 1861, i. 130.
    Lawrence (temp. Hen. VII.), i. 194 _note_.
    Lieutenant, at Tel-el-Kebir, i. 211 _note_.
    Mary, i. 200.
    Nicholas, D.D., Dean of Buryan, i. 199.
    Nicholas, a Parliamentarian, i. 196.
    Colonel Nicholas, at battle of Braddock Down, ii. 286.
    Richard (temp. Hen. VII.), i. 195.
    Rose, i. 193.
    Street, Truro, i. 196.
    William, the author, i. 200.
    William Glanville, i. 202.

  _Bounty_, Mutiny of the, i. 139-141.

  Boyer, Mayor of Bodmin, i. 70.

  Braddock Downs, i. 91.
    battle of, 121; ii. 43, 286.

  Braham, his relations to Incledon, ii. 98, 101.

  Brande, the chemist, on Davy's death, i. 248.

  Bray family, i. 114, 171.

  Bread-fruit, i. 140, 142.

  Breage, i. 340, 377.

  Bridges, Sir Egerton, his account of young Sidney Godolphin, i. 360.

  Brierly, Mr. O. W., his picture of the last fight of the _Revenge_,
     ii. 26.

  Brinn, ii. 30.

  Bristol china, i. 161.

  Bristol, Cornish at the siege of, ii. 52 _note_.

  Brompton, Chronicum of Johannis de, ii. 281.

  Browne, Sir Thomas, on our forefathers, viii.

  Browne, Sir William, caricatured by Foote, i. 329.

  Brunel, his opinion of Trevithick's genius, ii. 323.

  Buckingham, Duke of, his quarrel with Harry Killigrew, ii. 179.

  Bude, i. 82.

  Budock, St., the church, ii. 116, 118 _note_, 119.

  Bullers, The, ii. 283.

  Bunn, Mary, first wife of Opie, ii. 255.

  Bunsby, Richard, i. 154.

  Burdo, Adolphe, his description of the Niger, ii. 205.

  Burgoyne, General, i. 294.

  Buryan, i. 193, 194 _note_, 199 and _note_.

  Bynnamy, ii. 6 _note_.

  Byron, Honble. Ada, i. 98.

  Byron's poem, 'The Island,' i. 143.
    Lord, his verses on Davy, i. 271.


  C

  Camden on the origin of the St. Aubyns, ii. 281.

  Campbell, Duncan, the Scotch pirate, i. 82.

  Carankan family, i. 345.

  Cararthyn family, i. 345.

  Cardew, Dr. Cornelius, i. 250, 253; ii. 225 _note_.

  Carews, The, xiv. i. 345.

  Carew, Sir Gawen, i. 61.
    Sir Peter, i. 68; ii. 121.
    Richard, on the Arundells, i. 79, 83-86, 90, 102.
      marries an Arundell, i. 86.
      his account of Thomasine Bonaventura's chantry and college at Week
          St. Mary, i. 157.
      do. of Sir William Godolphin, i. 346.
      do. of Sir Francis Godolphin, i. 347.
      on the Grenvilles, ii. 3, 4, 7, 9, 13, 17 _note_.
      his account of Sir Hy. Killigrew, ii. 141.
      do. of Sir Wm. Killigrew, ii. 154.
      do. of Thomas St. Aubyn, ii. 284.
    Thomas, his lines on Tom Killigrew's wedding, ii. 167.

  Carlyon, Clement, M.D., his description of Henry Martyn as a
      schoolboy, ii. 224.

  Carminow, Elizabeth, wife of Sir John Arundell, i. 77.

  Carminows, The, i. 99-101, 140 _note_, 192 _note_, 195, 344.

  Carnbrea Castle, i. 114 and _note_.

  Carnbrea, ii. 310, 312.

  Carteret family, ii. 37.

  Carveth, i. 114.

  Castle, Mrs. Boddam, her Killigrew portraits, ii. 132, 136.
    her double descent from the Killigrews, ii. 136.
    her Killigrew plate, ii. 136.

  Cawse, John, a pupil of Opie, ii. 273 _note_.

  Chamond, i. 102.

  Chamonds, the, ii. 281.

  Champernon, ix.

  Chantry, his bust of Davy, i. 257.

  'Chantries, Cornish,' i. 200 note.

  Charles I., his letter of thanks to the County of Cornwall, ii. 38.
    is nearly shot at Fowey, ii. 43 _note_.
    his letter of thanks to Sir Bevill Grenville, ii. 49.

  Charles II., at Pendennis Castle, i. 92.
    takes refuge at Scilly, i. 350.

  Cholwel, the Week St. Mary schoolmaster, i. 157.

  Clapperton, Captain, ii. 202.

  Clapton, Elizabeth, i. 103.

  Clarendon, his encomium of the Cornish army, ii. 50.
    his account of young Sidney Godolphin, i. 357-359.
    description of Sir Bevill Grenville, ii. 38, 56.
    account of the great Sir Richard Grenville, ii. 13.
    quarrel with the second Sir Richard Grenville, 'Baron of
        Lostwithiel,' ii. 33, 35.
    his character of the second Sir Henry Killigrew, ii. 152.
    his account of the battle of Lansdowne, ii. 50.
    his account of the battle of Stratton, ii. 46.

  Clares, Nunnery of, at Truro, ii. 285.

  Clarke Hyde, his comparison of Trevithick and Watt, ii. 325.

  Clarke, Theophilus, A.R.A., a pupil of Opie, ii. 273 _note_.

  Claverton--Ralph Allen buried there, i. 22.

  Clement's, St., near Truro, i. 314.

  Clifton, ii. 4.

  Clifton, Sir Francis, marries Elizabeth Killigrew, ii. 159.

  Clinton family, i. 196.

  Clowance, ii. 282, 287.

  Coffin, Jaquet, i. 118.

  Coke, the Godolphin steward, i. 342.

  Colburn, Zerah, on locomotive engineering, ii. 320.

  Cole, Thomasin, ii. 13.

  Colenso, Bishop, ii. 226 _note_.

  Coleridge, his opinion of Davy's poetic faculty, i. 248, 256,
      261 _note_.

  Columb, St. (major), i. 38.
    its college, i. 52.

  Conon, Mr., master of the Truro Grammar School, i. 293.

  Cook, Captain, the circumnavigator, i. 140, 224 _note_.

  Cooke, Sir Anthony, Preceptor of Edward VI., ii. 147.

  Cooke, his life of Foote, i. 311 _note_, 315.

  Cooke, Katherine, wife of Sir Henry Killigrew, ii. 147.
    her learning, ii. 148.
    her Latin verses to Cecil, ii. 148.
    her burial-place and epitaph, ii. 149.

  Cookworthy, William, i. 161.

  Coombe, near Stow, ii. 17.

  Corbeil, or Corboyle, ii. 6, 69, 78.

  Cornelius, Father, i. 55.

  Cornish Worthies, the necessity for an account of them, i. xi.-xiii.
    principles in selection of the Lives, xiii.

  Cornish miners capture the _Cleopatra_, i. 297.

  Cornishmen, members of the Royal Society, i. 288.
    members of the Royal Academy of Arts, ii. 245 and _note_.
    noted for their bass voices, ii. 90.
    Queen Elizabeth's saying of them, ii. 123.
    Wranglers at Cambridge, ii. 226 _note_.

  Cornish forces for King Charles I., ii. 39 _note_.
    song on the Armada, ii. 17 _note_.
    troops at siege of Bristol, ii. 52.
    tumults in 1727 owing to scarcity of corn, ii. 290.

  Cornwall, Charles I.'s letter of thanks to the county, ii. 38.
    the mining districts, i. 109.
    mining operations in, ii. 308-311.
    the old main road through, i. 99.

  Corrie, Bishop, the friend of Martyn, ii. 236, and _passim_.

  Corunna, Lord Vivian at, ii. 349.

  Coryton, Mr., a Royal Commissioner for Cornwall, ii. 150.

  Courtney, W. P., i. (_in Introduction_).

  Courtneys, The, i. 101, 140 _note_.

  Courtenay, Henry, at battle of Braddock Down, ii. 286.

  Coverack, ii. 89.

  Coxe, Frances Susannah, i. 131 _note_.

  Cranch, Betsy, mother of Lord Vivian, ii. 346, 347 and _note_.

  Crantock, i. 38.

  Crediton, Sir Robert Killigrew, Lord of the Manor of, ii. 159.

  Croft, Cecilia, wife of Tom Killigrew, ii. 167, 168, 178.

  Crowan Church, ii. 282, 285, 286, 300.

  Cudlipp, Elizabeth, wife of John Anstis, i. 33.

  Cunningham, Allen, his remarks on Opie, ii. 246.

  Curgenven, Rev. W., Martyn's brother-in-law, ii. 227.

  Cuvier, his opinion of Davy, i. 264, 287.


  D

  Danet, Elizabeth, i. 104.

  Dangrous, William, i. 195.

  Daniell, Ralph Allen, i. 25.

  Daniell, Thomas, i. 25, 26, 255.

  Darrell, Jane, ii. 117 _note_.

  Davies, his opinion of Foote, i. 321, 331, 336.

  Davy the composer, ii. 91.

  Davy family, i. 247.

  DAVY, SIR HUMPHRY, i. 247-288.
    his birthplace, 247.
    his youth, 248.
    his poetic faculty, 248, 256, 261 _note_.
    his schooling, 250, 253.
    his portraits, 251-257.
    as a young man, 252, 257, 260 _note_, 261.
    articled to a surgeon, 253.
    his fondness for fishing and shooting, 254, 272, 282 _note_.
    begins chemistry, 254.
    becomes assistant at the Pneumatic Hospital, Clifton, 255.
    his dangerous experiments on nitrous oxide, etc., 256, 266.
    his scheme of study, 259.
    appointed to the Royal Institution, 259.
    the father of agricultural chemistry, 260.
    elected F.R.S., 260.
    delivers the Bakerian Lectures, i. 261.
    ill with typhus fever, 262.
    visits Ireland, 262.
    is urged to enter the Church, 263.
    is knighted, 264.
    is married, 264.
    visits Scotland, 266.
    experiments in electric lighting, 266.
    goes on the Continent, 267.
    experiments on the torpedo, 267, 284.
    examines the extinct French and Italian volcanoes, 268, 271.
    becomes acquainted with Volta, 268.
    helps to found the Geological Society of Penzance, 268.
    one of the founders of the Athenæum Club, 269.
    originates the Zoological Society, 269.
    returns to England in 1815, 269.
    discovers the safety-lamp, 270.
    is entertained by the coal-owners
    at Newcastle, 270.
    his will, 270 _note_, 286.
    is made a baronet, 271.
    revisits the Continent in 1818, 271.
    examines the fresco colouring
    at Pompeii, 272.
    do. the burnt papyri at Herculaneum, 272.
    returns to England in 1820, 272.
    visits Scott at Abbotsford, 272-275.
    his costume, 273, 277.
    his conversations with Scott, 275.
    is made President of the Royal Society, 277.
    his weekly social gatherings, 277.
    his illness, 278, 280.
    revisits Ireland, Wales and Scotland, 278.
    visits Penzance in 1821, 278.
    investigates metal sheathing for vessels, 278.
    visits Norway, Sweden and Denmark, 279.
    specimens of his poetry, 248, 279, 282.
    revisits the Continent in 1827, 280.
    retires from the Royal Society, i. 281.
    Royal Society medal in his honour, 281 _note_.
    his religious views, 281, 282.
    returns to London, 1827, 282.
    writes the 'Salmonia,' 283.
    last visit to the Continent in 1828, 283.
    plans 'Consolations of Travel,' 283.
    writes 'Last of the O'Donoghues,' 283.
    is seriously ill at Rome, 284.
    a good linguist, 284 _note_.
    his latest literary enjoyments, 285.
    at Geneva on his return homewards, 285.
    last hours and death at Geneva, 286.
    his death and epitaph, 286.
    his principal works and discoveries, 287 _note_.
    on Trevithick's steam locomotive, ii. 319 note.

  Davy, Robert, i. 247.
    Dr. John, i. 259, 280, 281, 284, 286.
    his analysis of Sir Humphry Davy's earlier discoveries, i. 263.

  De Crespigny, Eliza, Lord Vivian's first wife, ii. 348, 363.

  DE DUNSTANVILLES, their Norman origin, etc., i. 111-113 _note_.
    Reginald, Earl of Cornwall, i. 112 _note_.
    Adeliza, wife of Thomas, Baron Basset, i. 112 _note_.
    Alan de (temp. 1100), i. 112.
    Alice (temp. Hen. III.), i. 113.
    Cecilia (temp. Rich. I.), i. 113.
    Lady, at Trevithick's, ii. 319.

  Delaines, The, friends of Foote, i. 319.

  Delany, Mrs. (Mary Grenville), her account of the Basset family
       (circa 1730), i. 124.
    her description of George Grenville, ii. 83.
    do. of Mr. Killigrew, ii. 135.
    her portrait by Opie, ii. 260.

  Denham, Sir John, his lines on Tom Killigrew, ii. 163.
    his epigram on Cowley and Killigrew, ii. 166.

  Dentatus, Hamon, ii. 6.

  Dibdin, Dr., his remarks on Davy, i. 252.

  Dibdin, his relations to Incledon, ii. 98.

  'Dineham, John,' i. 157.

  Dixon, 'Fasti Eboracensis' of, ii. 9.

  Dodd, Rev. Dr., his widow caricatured by Foote, i. 331.

  'Dolphin Town (see _Godolphin Town_).

  Doran, Dr., his observations on Foote, i. 331.

  Drew, Samuel, i. 255.

  Dryden, his tribute to George Grenville's poetry, ii. 85.
    his ode on Anne Killigrew, ii. 190.

  Duloe, Rectory of, ii. 285.

  Dunbar, Major John, marries Ann Killigrew, ii. 132.

  Durham, Bishop of, urges Davy to enter the Church, i. 263.

  Durham, Lord, his address to Davy, i. 270.

  Dutch ships seized by the Killigrews at Falmouth, ii. 114.


  E

  Ecclesiasticus on our forefathers, vii.

  Echard, his account of Sir Richard Grenville, 'Baron of Lostwithiel,'
        ii. 35.
    his particulars of the Restoration, ii. 66 _note_.

  Edgcumbes, The, of Mount Edgcumbe (see _Introduction_).

  Edgecumbe, Honble. George, Admiral, i. 208 and _note_.

  Edgecombe Lieut.-Colonel in Charles I.'s army, ii. 39 _note_.

  Edwardes, Dr., i. 255.

  Edwards, Thos., the architect, i. 116.

  Efford or Ebbingford, i. 81-87.

  Elder-trees in Cornwall, i. 193.

  Elizabeth Castle, Scilly, ii. 119.

  Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, intercedes for Tom Killigrew,
      ii. 168 _note_.

  Eliot, Sir John, xiv.
    relations with Sir Bevill Grenville, ii. 41.

  Emerson, R. W., on Biography, x.
    on 'Steam,' ii. 328 _note_.

  Enys family, i. 114.
    J. S., ii. 314.

  Erissey family, i. 344, 345.
    Juliana, i. 87.

  Erissey, Richard, marries Frances Killigrew, ii. 131.

  Erissey, Richard, ii. 131 _note_.

  Erme, St., ii. 115.

  Erth, St., ii. 119.

  Evelyn, John, his friendship with the Godolphins, i. 362.
    his life of Margaret Godolphin, i. 365, 370 _et seq._
    his opinion of the great Sir R. Grenville, ii. 28.
    his anecdote of Tom Killigrew, ii. 168.

  Ewens, William, ii. 121.

  Exeter College, Oxford, ii. 226 _note_.
    Registers of, xii., ii. 5.

  EXMOUTH, LORD, i. 291-308.
    his birth and childhood, 292-3.
    enters the navy, 294.
    under Burgoyne in America, 294.
    returns to England, 295.
    made Post-Captain, 296.
    marries, 296.
    in the _Winchelsea_ and _Salisbury_, 297.
    turns farmer, 297.
    appointed to the _Nymphe_, 297.
    is knighted, 298.
    clears the Channel, 299.
    cuts down and refits the _Indefatigable_, 299.
    his gallant rescue of the _Dutton's_ crew at Plymouth, 300.
    made a Baronet, 300.
    his coat of arms, 300.
    assists in preventing the French descent upon Ireland, 300.
    desires to attack Brest, 301.
    quells a mutiny at Bantry Bay, 301.
    rests at Trefusis, 302.
    made Colonel of Marines, and elected M.P., 302.
    blockades the French at Corunna and Ferrol, 302.
    helps to save Pitt's administration, 302.
    promoted Rear-Admiral of the White, 302.
    made Commander-in-Chief, in India, 302.
    returns to England, 303.
    blockades the Dutch fleet in the Scheldt, 303.
    Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean, 303.
    made Baron Exmouth, 303.
    his offspring, 303 _note_.
    goes again to the Mediterranean in 1815, 304.
    saves Marseilles, i. 304.
    undertakes the siege of Algiers, 304-6.
    liberates the Christian and
    other slaves, 306.
    his later honours, 307.
    is appointed to the naval command at Plymouth, 307.
    his last days and death, 308.
    his portraits, 308.


  F

  Fairfax in Cornwall, i. 93, 172.

  FALMOUTH family (see _Boscawen_).
    Haven, i. 99, 194, 292.
    the town arms, ii. 116.
    its rise and progress, ii. 125, 126, 128, 131, 132, 135.
    old maps of, ii. 126 _note_.
    origin of St. Charles Church there, ii. 128.
    Killigrew monuments in the church, ii. 132.

  Faraday, his connexion with Davy, i. 267.

  Farningham, i. 146.

  Fauntleroy's Bank, i. 164.

  Felton, Dr., his opinion of George Grenville as a poet, ii. 84.

  Fentongollan, i. 99, 192, 205.

  Ferguson, Professor, his opinion of Davy, i. 257.

  Fermor, Jane, ii. 124.

  Fielding at Ralph Allen's, i. 9.

  Fleming, maiden name of Martyn's mother, ii. 224.

  Flores, in the Azores, ii. 21 and _note_.

  Flushing, i. 292, 296, 297.

  Foote, Edward, i. 313.
    Eleanor, i. 313, 314.
    Henry, i. 314.
    John, the dramatist's grandfather, i. 314.
    John, mayor of Truro, 314 _note_.

  FOOTE, SAMUEL, i. 311-336.
    his claims to notice, 311.
    his voluminous works, 311.
    Foster's opinion of him, 312.
    Baker's opinion of him, 312.
    his _bon mots_, 313, 333.
    his parentage and birthplace, 313, 315.
    his education, 315.
    goes to Worcester College, Oxford, 316.
    entered at the Inner Temple, 316.
    his vanity and dandyism, i. 317 and _note_.
    quarrels with Garrick, 317 and _note_, 326.
    his portraits, 318.
    his three fortunes, 318, 322.
    goes on the stage, 319.
    his first piece, 320.
    caricatures Macklin, 320, 323 and _note_.
    has his license withdrawn, 320.
    his 'Tea-drinking,' 321.
    his 'Auction of Pictures,' 321.
    his satiric powers, 321.
    his generosity, 321 _note_.
    his address, 321.
    his play 'The Knights,' 322.
    his extravagance and dissipation, 322, 328 _note_, 330.
    again takes the Haymarket Theatre, 323.
    his piece 'The Author' suppressed by the Lord Chamberlain, 323.
    goes to Dublin with Tate Wilkinson, 324.
    produces 'The Minor,' 324.
    ridicules Whitefield, 325.
    his aversion to newspaper critics, 326.
    produces 'The Liar,' 327.
    do. 'The Orators,' 327.
    leases the Edinburgh Theatre, 327.
    'The Mayor of Garrat, and succeeding plays, 328.
    breaks his leg, 328.
    produces 'The Devil on Two Sticks,' 329.
    revisits Dublin, 330.
    his 'Primitive Puppet Show,' 330.
    his 'Cozeners,' and later plays, 321-333.
    his affair with the Duchess of Kingston, 331.
    sells his Patent to Colman, 332.
    paralysed whilst acting, 333.
    retires to Bath, 333.
    goes to Dover, 333.
    his last jokes at the Ship Inn, Dover, 333.
    last illness and death, 333.
    buried at Westminster Abbey, 334.
    his epitaph, 334.
    his alleged marriages, 334.
    his residences, 326, 335.
    his talents and his character, i. 335.

  Foote, Samuel, the elder, i. 313, 314.
    Samuel (another of that name), 311 _note_.

  Fortescue family, i. 196 _note_; ii. 5.

  Fox, the late Caroline, her remark on Mr. Edward Opie, ii. 247.
    Charles James, his opinion of Foote, i. 327, 336.
    his portrait by Opie, ii. 256.
    his opinion of Opie's mental powers, ii. 264.
    George Croker, his advice to Lander, ii. 202.
    Mr. Howard, on the Lizard Point lights, ii. 124 _note_.

  Froude, Mr., his tribute to Sir Richard Grenville, ii. 27.

  Frowde, Susan, i. 296.

  Fuller, on William Grenville, Archbishop of York, ii. 9.

  Fuller's translation of Lady Katharine Killigrew's lines, ii. 149.

  Fuseli, his portrait by Opie, ii. 256.


  G

  Gall, Master John, i. 155.

  Garrick, his relations with Foote, i. 317 _note_, 326, 336.

  Garth, Dr., his tribute to Godolphin's merit, i. 384.

  Gatty, Dr. Alfred, his acquaintance with Bligh, i. 145.

  Gaverigan, Manor of, ii. 285.

  Geneva, Davy dies there, i. 286.

  George III., his conversation with Bligh, i. 145.

  Ghent, Sir R. Grenville's tomb at, ii. 34 _note_.

  Gilbert, C. S., his 'History of Cornwall,' i. 369; ii. 56.

  Gilbert Davies, i. 26, 251 _note_, 254, 281; ii. 37.
    his connexion with Trevithick, ii. 314, 319, 327.

  Gillyngvase Bay, ii. 126.

  Gluvias Church, ii. 117.

  Glynn, Major, i. 111.

  Glynn, the seat of the Vivians, ii. 345.

  Godfrey, Charlotte, i. 197, 210.

  Godfrey of Cornwall, xiv.

  GODOLPHINS, THE, i. 340-396.
    family, 114, 118, 173, 191, 195, 340-396; ii. 3, 39, 119, 283.
    Hals' description of the family, i. 340.
    description of the place, 340-344.
    or 'Dolphin Town, Scilly, 350.
    Manor of, ii. 285.
    origin of the name, i. 344.
    their early origin, 345.
    intermarriages of the family, 344, 353.
    great tin-owners, 342, 347, 348.
    obtain lease of Scilly Isles and become Governors, 350-353.
    number of deaths in the family in a short period, 350.
    School, The, at Salisbury, 352.
    Captain, killed in a duel, 1682, 353.
    Colonel in Charles I.'s army, ii. 39.
    Charles, M.P. for Helston, i. 379.
    Elizabeth, maid of honour to
    Katharine of Braganza, 353.
    Ellinor, 344.
    Sir Francis, friend of Richard Carew, ii. 24.
    Francis, Baron Godolphin of Helston, i. 364.
    Sir Francis, knighted in 1580, 347.
      Carew's account of him, 347, 348 _note_.
      Lipscomb's do., 347.
      repulses the Spaniards at Penzance, 348.
      marries Margaret Killigrew, 350.
    Sir Francis, 361, 368.
      his loyalty and poetic skill, 361.
      Hobbes dedicates his 'Leviathan' to him, 362.
      is M.P. for St. Ives, 1640, 362.
      his wife and family, 362.
    Francis, second and last Earl, 374, 389.
      is made Lord Warden of the Stannaries, 382.
      dies, 389.
      his love for the turf, 392.
    Gentle, three of the name, 347.
    Henry, Dean of St. Paul's and Provost of Eton, 362.
      educated at Eton and at Oxford, i. 362.
      marries his cousin Margaret Godolphin, 362.
      his piety and munificence, 363, 364.
      his monument at Eton, 363.
      was to have been made Bishop of Exeter, 364.
      his descendants, 364.
    Jael, 197, 210.
    John (temp. Hen. III.), 340.
    John (temp. Hen. VII.), 345.
    John, Captain of Scilly, 351.
      marries Judith Amerideth, 351.
    John, LL.D., goes to Oxford, 353.
      is made Judge of the Admiralty, 354.
      his legal and religious books, 355.
      his death and burial-place, 356.
      his son Francis, died 1695, 356.
    Margaret, wife of Sidney Godolphin, 362.
      as 'Diana,' 370 _note_.
      comes to the Court, 371.
      her pious disposition, 371.
      leaves the Court, 373.
      lodges in Scotland Yard, 373.
      marries Sidney Godolphin, 374.
      her illness and death, 374.
      her last letter to her husband, 375.
      is buried at Breage, 377.
      the inscription on her coffin, 377.
    Sidney, M.P., killed in a Civil War skirmish, 1643, 357.
      Clarendon's account of him, 357.
      Sir Egerton Brydges' do., 360.
      Hobbes' do., 360.
      his poetic skill, 361.
    Sidney, 'Prime Minister,' 340, 362, 365-396.
      is left £5,000 a year by
      his brother, 362.
      his birth and early days, 365.
      goes to Spain and Holland, 366.
      is made Privy Councillor,
      and one of the 'Triumvirate,' i. 368.
      becomes First Lord of the Treasury, 368.
      is made Baron Godolphin of Rialton, 368.
      James II. practises upon him, 369.
      is made Chamberlain to the Queen, 369.
      Second Commissioner to the Treasury, 369.
      is selected to propose an 'accommodation' with William III., 369.
      finds favour with William III., 370.
      yearns to retire to Cornwall, 370.
      marries Margaret Blagge, 374.
      his letter to Evelyn on his
      wife's death, 375.
      political troubles, 378, 380.
      is made one of the nine
      Justices to manage England, 378.
      leaves office for a while, 378.
      is made Lord High Treasurer by Anne, 378.
      effects the Union with Scotland, 379, 383.
      his pseudonyms, 380 _note_, 381.
      his secret correspondence with James II., 381.
      his honours increase, 381, 386.
      his connexion with Marlborough's Continental wars, 379, 382.
      his portraits, 382, 391.
      his North American Expedition, 383.
      his weariness of office, 383, 386.
      his share in the Conformity Bill, 384.
      clamour against him, 384.
      favours Walpole, 385.
      loses favour with Anne, 386.
      is dismissed from office, 387.
      the shock to the national credit, 388.
      his illness, death, and funeral, i. 389.
      his appearance, manners, and character, 391-6.
    Thomas, shot at the siege of Boulogne, 346.
      marries first a Grenville, 347.
      marries, second time, a Bonython, 347.
    Colonel William, brother of young Sidney, 361.
    Sir William, Vice Warden of the Stannaries (temp. Hen. VIII.), 342,
        346.
    Sir William, 351, 356.
      his son, ambassador at Madrid, 351.
      the friend of Locke, 351.
      is suspected of treason, 352.
      his will declared void, 352.
    Sir William, made a baronet by Charles II., 362.
    See also _Errata and Addenda_.

  Godwin, a friend of Opie, ii. 255.

  Goodere, Sir Edward, i. 314.
    tragedy, the, concerning, i. 318.

  Gordon, Duchess of, i. 260.

  Gornard (or Gurney), Sir Richard, ii. 4.

  Granville (see _Grenville_).

  Granville, in Normandy, ii. 6.

  Graynfylde, John, ii. 4.

  Green, Anne, her horrible execution, ii. 129.

  Green, J. R., his account of the support of the Royal cause by the
      Cornish, ii. 57 _note_.

  Grenfell, Miss, her relations with   Martyn, ii. 232 and _passim_.

  Grenfield, Henry, Master of Truro Grammar School, ii. 37.

  Grenfield, Richard (temp. 1316), ii. 5.

  GRENVILLE FAMILY, i. 87, 114, 191, 340, 345; ii. 3-85, 281-283.
    a true Norman-Cornish family, ii. 3-5, 6.
    their portraits, 82 _note_.
    their coat of arms, 5 _note_, 6 _note_.
    various modes of spelling the name, 6.
    indigence of the later Grenvilles, 36, 37.
    their various seats in Cornwall, 4 _note_, 6 _note_.
    Rectors of Kilkhampton, 5.
    frequent occurrence of Richard as their Christian name, ii. 6.
    Sir Bartholomew, 5.
    Sir Bernard, M.P., son of the great Sir Richard, 30.
    Sir Bevill, 4, 30.
      his birthplace and parentage, 30, 58 _note_.
      his 'Gate Song of Stow,' by Rev. R. S. Hawker, 32.
      goes to Exeter College, Oxford, 33.
      enters Parliament, 33.
      is knighted, 33.
      M.P. for Cornwall and for Launceston, 38 _note_.
      heads the Cornish gentry in the King's cause, 38.
      suppresses the Parliamentary Committees in Cornwall, 38.
      his letter to Sir John Trelawny, 39.
      his letters to his wife, 41, 43.
      his friendship for Sir John Eliot, 41.
      at battle of Braddock Down, 43.
      at battle of Stratton, 45.
      receives letter of thanks from Charles I., 49.
      at the battle of Lansdowne, 50.
      is slain, 52, 57 _note_.
      is buried at Kilkhampton, 52 _note_.
      Clarendon's description of him, 56.
      his monument at Lansdowne, 57.
      do. at Kilkhampton, 58.
      his portraits, 63.
      his grandson of the same name, 64 _note_.
    Chamond, 5.
    Dennis, D.D., 5, 68-80.
      his birth and education, 69.
      Kilkhampton his first preferment, 69.
      made Dean of Durham, 69.
      goes into exile with James II., 69-76.
      his loyalty to the Crown, 70, 75.
      his invalid wife, 70, 77.
      endeavours to reform the clergy, ii. 70.
      his incompetence to manage his money affairs, 71.
      his admirable household rules, 72-74.
      is imprisoned in his own deanery, 76.
      resides at Rouen and prints his works, 77.
      is deprived of his deanery, and his library and goods distrained
          by the Sheriff, 77.
      is slighted by James II., 77 and _note_.
      retires to Corbeil, 78.
      his latter days, 78.
      his death at Paris, 79.
      his portrait, 79.
      his character, 79, 80.
    George, Baron Lansdowne, 81.
      declares himself a Cornishman, 81.
      goes to Cambridge, 81.
      is about James II.'s Court, 81.
      his admiration of Mary of Modena, 81.
      his poems and plays, 81.
      his representation of Cornwall in Parliament, 81.
      made Privy Councillor, and Treasurer of the Household to Queen
          Anne, 81.
      committed to the Tower, 81.
      goes abroad to retrench his expenses, 82.
      dies, 82.
      strange story about his remains, 82.
      his portrait, 82.
      his character as a man and a poet, 83-85.
    John (temp. Edward IV.), 5.
    John, rector of Kilkhampton, 5.
    John, son of the great Sir Richard, 30.
    John, Earl of Bath, 34.
      at battle of Lansdowne, 54.
      at Oxford, 65.
      wounded at battle of Newbury, 65.
      is made Governor of Scilly, 65.
    John, Earl of Bath, is instrumental in Restoration of Charles II.,
          ii. 66.
      communicates to Parliament Charles II.'s proposals from Breda, 67.
      is made a Secretary of State, Earl of Bath, etc., 67.
      builds the new house of Stow, 67.
      his wife and offspring, 68.
      declares for William III., 68, 75.
    Lady Grace, her extraction and marriage, 41 _note_.
      her portraits, 41 _note_.
      alleged letters by her, 59-63.
    Mary (see _Mrs. Delany_).
    Mary, wife of Thomas St. Aubyn, 283.
    Richard (temp. William I.), 7, 9.
    Richard (temp. Henry III.), 6 _note_.
    Sir Richard (temp. Henry VIII.), 9.
      loses Trematon Castle, 10.
      imprisoned at Launceston, 10.
      specimens of his poetical powers, 11, 12.
    the great Sir Richard, 4 _note_, 13-29.
      his birth and parentage,13.
      his biographers, 13.
      his military career in
      Eastern Europe, 13.
      as Sheriff of Cornwall arrests Francis Tregian, 14.
      is knighted, 14.
      twice visits Virginia, 14.
      during the time of the Armada, 14.
      his appearance and portraits, 15.
      his wife, Mary St. Leger, 20.
      as Vice-Admiral is sent to intercept the Spanish West Indian
          fleet, 20.
      his last fight at Flores, and last words, 28.
    Sir Richard, 'Baron of Lostwithiel,' 33.
      Clarendon's quarrel with him, 33.
      Earl of Suffolk's quarrel with him, ii. 33, 35.
      is fined and imprisoned in the Fleet, 33.
      joins the Parliamentarian forces, 33.
      deserts them, 33.
      joins the King's army, 34.
      blockades Plymouth, 34.
      surrenders to Hopton his
      command in the West, 34.
      is imprisoned at Launceston, 34.
      fortifies Launceston, 34 _note_.
      do. Hall House, Fowey, 64.
      his opposition to the King's general, 34 and _note_.
      captures Restormel Castle, Lostwithiel, 64.
      Clarendon's account of him, 35.
      Echard's do., 35.
      George, Lord Lansdowne's do., 35, 81.
      prints his own defence, 35.
      seizes, at Bruges, some of Lord Suffolk's property--but restores
          it, 35.
      goes into exile, 36.
      is forbidden the English Court, 36.
      dies broken-hearted, 36.
      his project for defending Cornwall by joining the English and
          Bristol Channels, 36 _note_.
      his tomb at Ghent, 34 _note_.
      his son Richard's fate, 36.
    Roger, drowned at Spithead, 13.
    Sir Theobald, 4, 7, 8.
    William, Chancellor of England and Archbishop of York, 7.
      his death and tomb, 8.
      his ring, 9.
      see also 77 _note_, and 78 and _note_.
    See also _Errata and Addenda_.

  Grotius on Archbishop Grenville's ring, ii. 9.

  Guiccioli, Countess, her acquaintance with Davy, i. 281.

  Gunpowder first used for blasting rocks in Cornwall, i. 348 _note_.

  Gwavas, Mr., i. 176.


  H

  Hailstone, Professor, i. 255.

  Hall walk, Fowey, ii. 43 _note_, 64.

  Hals, the Historian, i. 102 and _passim_.
    Lieutenant-Colonel James, at battle of Braddock Down, ii. 286.
    Sir Nicholas, of Pengerswick, ii. 124.

  Harley, i. 380.

  Harris, Christopher, i. 173.
    Lydia, i. 172.

  Harmony Cot, ii. 245 and _note_.

  Harvey, Henry, ii. 326, 328.
    Jane, wife of Richard Trevithick, ii. 312.
    John, 311 and _note_.

  Hawke, Admiral, of Cornish extraction, i. 209 _note_.

  Hawker, William, 301.
    Rev. R. S., i. 154.
      his account of Stow, and the Grenvilles, ii. 31.
      his alleged discovery of Grenville's letters at Stow, ii. 59.

  Hawkins, Admiral, ii. 28.

  Hellins, Dr. John, i. 255.

  Henrietta Maria, Queen, at Pendennis Castle, i. 92.

  Henry, Dr., his opinion of Davy's genius, i. 249.

  Henwood, W. J., i. 342.

  Herry, Johanna, ii. 117 _note_.

  Hervey, Admiral Lord, a patron of Incledon, ii. 94.

  Hewlett, Mr. H. G., his translation of Katharine Killigrew's Latin
        verses to Cecil, ii. 149.
    his letter about Admiral Bligh's ghost, i. 146.

  Hill, Mary, wife of Sir William Killigrew, ii. 159.

  Hingeston-Randolph, the Rev. F. C., his valuable assistance to the
      author, xvi.

  Hitchins, Rev. Malachi, i. 255; ii. 233 _note_.

  Hitchins, Rev. T. M., ii. 233.

  Hobbes, his account of young Sidney Godolphin, i. 360.

  Hobby, Thomas, ii. 148.

  Hoblyn family, i. 345.

  Hogg, Thomas, his poem on St. Michael's Mount, ii. 301 _note_.

  Holcroft, his account of Opie, ii. 261.

  Hone, Horace, i. 162.

  Hornblower, Jonathan, ii. 314.

  Howard, Admiral Lord Thomas, ii. 21 _note_.
    Leonard, his Collection of Letters, ii. 140.

  Howlett, Mr. Richard, his 'Monumenta Franciscana,' i. 72, 89.

  Hurd, Bishop, at Ralph Allen's, i. 13.

  Hussey family, ii. 345, 348 and _note_.


  I

  Incledon, Charles, ii. 111.

  INCLEDON, BENJAMIN CHARLES, i. 322; ii. 89-111.
    his kindness to his mother, 90.
    the great range of his voice, 91-100.
    is choir-boy in Exeter Cathedral, 91.
    is an excellent swimmer, 91.
    charms Judge Nares by his singing, 92.
    runs away from Exeter and joins the navy, 92.
    sees active service, 93.
    becomes a general favourite, 93.
    his portrait, singing 'The Storm,' 93 _note_.
    is introduced to Sheridan and to Colman, 94.
    is considered not fitted for the stage, 94.
    joins Collins' company at Southampton, 94.
    goes with them to Winchester and Bath, 94.
    his first appearance at Bath, 94, 95.
    his vocal merits recognised by Rauzzini, 95.
    is engaged at Vauxhall Gardens, 95.
    his singing of 'The Lass of Richmond Hill,' 96.
    makes his _début_ at Covent Garden, 96.
    his jolly disposition, 96.
    is made a butt of, 96.
    and retaliates, 97.
    cuts a ridiculous appearance as a volunteer, 97.
    his large salary, 96-104.
    his fondness for the 'Beggar's Opera,' 98.
    his relation to Braham, 98.
    do. to Dibdin, 98.
    his success at Bury St. Edmunds, ii. 98.
    his attachment to his profession, 99.
    his voice and style, 99.
    no actor, 100.
    with Mathews, at Leicester, 100.
    his joke with a Quaker there, 100.
    sings in oratorio, 101.
    his singing of 'All's Well' with Braham, 101.
    his singing at the Glee Club, 101.
    retires from Covent Garden, 101.
    his entertainments in the provinces, 102.
    his coach journey with H. C. Robinson, 102.
    his singing to Mrs. Siddons, 102.
    sings 'The Storm' at a dinner given to John Kemble, 103.
    his favourite songs, 103, 104,
    his last benefit at Drury Lane, 104.
    his last appearance and farewell speech at Southampton, 104.
    his wives, 105-109.
    as a composer, 105.
    is shipwrecked in Dublin Bay, 106.
    goes to America, 106.
    has an attack of paralysis at Brighton, 107.
    sings for the last time at Worcester, and dies there, 107.
    his fondness for the kitchen, 107 _note_.
    do. for quack medicines, 107 _note_.
    his dissipated habits, 108.
    his ingenious patching up of a quarrel with a military officer, 109.
    his grand dinner at Brompton Crescent, 109.
    his extravagance and carelessness, 110.
    dies in easy circumstances, 111.
    is buried at Hampstead, 111.
    his sons and daughter, 111.

  Incledon, Frank, 111.
    Loveday, 89, 90.
    Michael, 90.

  Ilcombe, ii. 6 _note_.


  J

  Jackson, of Exeter, the composer, ii. 91.

  Jago, Mary, adopted by Mrs. Killigrew, ii. 136.
    marries Daniel Wait, ii. 136.
    William, of Wendron, i. 102.

  James, Mary, an old sweetheart of Opie, ii. 264.

  Jeffery, Mr. H. Martyn, edits some of Martyn's letters, ii. 233.

  Jeffrey, his opinion of Mrs. Opie's novels, ii. 259.

  Jenkins, Sir Lionel, i. 368.

  Jermyn, Lord Harry, ii. 150.
    his letter to Sir Henry Killigrew, at Pendennis, ii. 151.

  Jewell, William, the friend of Foote, i. 334.

  Job, on our ancestors, vii.

  Johannes, Sarisburiensis, his tribute to Cornish valour, ii. 48.

  Johnson's, Dr., opinion of Borlase's 'Scilly Islands,' i. 182.
    opinion of Foote, i. 311, 327, 336.
    opinion of George Grenville as a poet, ii. 84.
    his portrait by Opie, ii. 253.


  K

  Kea parish, i. 194.

  Kempthorne, Senior Wrangler of 1796, ii. 226.

  Keverne, St., ii. 89.

  Kilkhampton, ii. 4, 5, 69.

  Killigarth, ii. 30.

  KILLIGREWS, THE, xv., i. 191, 344; ii. 115-195, 283.
    etymology of the name, ii. 115.
    at siege of Pendennis Castle, i. 92.
    their family monument at Falmouth, ii. 115.
    of royal descent, 116.
    their swannery at Falmouth, 115 _note_.
    the Devonshire branch, 116 _note_.
    their earlier Christian names, 116.
    they move to Arwenack, 117.
    trusted courtiers, 117.
    a very numerous family, 118.
    they seem naturally to divide into two branches, 118.
    their 'family tree,' ii. 118.
    the elder branch, 119-137.
    the junior do., 137-195.
    addicted to 'piracy,' 121.
    difficulty in identifying the early members, 121.
    amongst the predecessors of the heroes of the Armada conflict, 122.
    their promotion of the interests of Falmouth, 126.
    Falmouth, their later burial-place, 128, 132.
    some of the family portraits, 136.
    in St. Erme, 115, 116.
    Ann (Mrs. Kirk), drowned at London Bridge, 156.
    Ann, marries Martin Lister, 131.
    Anne, 188-195.
      her birth and baptism, 189.
      early displays her talents, 189.
      Dryden's ode on her, 189-192.
      Anthony Wood's opinion of her, 189.
      her skill in painting, 189, 191, 192.
      her portraits, 189, 193.
      Maid of Honour to the Duchess of York, 193.
      her poems, 193, 194.
      her death, 193 and _note_.
      her burial-place, 189 _note_.
      her epitaph, 188, 194, 195.
    Charles, Master of the Revels, 177.
      succeeds to the Drury Lane playhouse, 177.
      introduces useful reforms in theatres, 178.
    Elizabeth, 119.
    Elizabeth, marries Count de Kinski, 129.
    Elizabeth, wife of Dr. Lambe, Dean of Ely, 184.
    Elizabeth, Viscountess Shannon, 156.
    Fitz-Hardinge, Lady, 156.
      marries a Godolphin, 156.
    Yarmouth, Countess of, 156.
    Frances, marries Richard Erissey, 131.
    Frances Maria, last of the name, 136, 165, 174.
    George Augustus, 136.
    George, killed by Walter Vincent, ii. 131.
      his wife and daughter, 132.
    Harry, son of Tom, 'the jester,' 178.
      his bad character, 178.
      his quarrel with the Duke of Buckingham, 179.
      his wife, Lady Mary Savage, 179.
      his sons, 179.
      his death, 179.
    Henry (temp. 1402), 116.
    Henry (15th century), 116.
    Admiral Henry, 184.
      is made Lord of the Admiralty by William III., 184.
      his death, and MS. letters, 184.
      his action with the French off Beachy Head, 185.
      his character, 187.
      his wife, and son Henry, 187.
      Dryden's allusion to him, 191.
    Sir Henry, the Ambassador, 137.
      his parentage, 137.
      his political appointments, 137.
      his letters to Burleigh on Scotch affairs, 137 _note_.
      his verses to Lady Cecil, 137.
      his description of John Knox, 137.
      sent by Elizabeth to a Congress at Frankfort, 138.
      his many diplomatic missions, 140 and _note_, 148.
      complains of being ill-remunerated, 140.
      his latter days, 141.
      his mission to Mary Queen of Scots, 141.
      his pay whilst in France, 142.
      at siege of St. Quentin, 142.
      one of a 'forlorn hope' at Rouen, 142 _note_.
      lived in Broad Street Ward, 143.
      dies there, 143.
      his character and accomplishments, 143-147.
      his wives and children, ii. 147, 149.
    Sir Henry, son of the ambassador, 149-150.
      his adherence to Charles I., 150 and _note_.
      is a Royal Commissioner for Cornwall, 150.
      is one of the defenders of Pendennis Castle, 150.
      is wounded there, 152.
      dies at St. Malo, 152.
      his character, and that of his son, by Clarendon, 152, 153.
      his burial, and funeral sermon, 153.
      his wife and son Henry, 153.
    Sir Henry, of Crediton, 159.
    Major Henry, 177.
    Henry, Master of the Savoy, 180.
      his education, 180.
      takes his degrees of M.A. and D.D. at Oxford, 180.
      specimen of his Latin verse, 180.
      is Preceptor to James II., etc., 180.
      made Master of the Savoy, 181.
      his tragedy, 'The Conspiracy,' 181.
      a song by him from that play, 181.
      his play, 'The Tyrant King of Crete,' 182.
      his sermons printed, 182.
      extract from one of them, 182.
      his character as Master of the Savoy, 182.
      his wives, 183.
      his daughter Anne, 184.
    Captain James, 188.
      killed in an engagement off Leghorn, in 1694, 188.
      his bravery, 188.
    Jane, 150.
    Dame Jane, 120 _note_.
    John (temp. 1297), 116.
    John (temp. Henry VIII.),
      first Captain of Pendennis Castle, 119.
      his brass at Budock Church, 119.
      surveys and fortifies the Scilly Isles, 119.
      is Sheriff of Cornwall, ii. 119.
      builds Arwenack, 119.
      his three brothers, 137.
      his sons, 137.
    Sir John, second captain of Pendennis, 120.
    John (third of the name), 120.
      complaints of his 'ill demeners,' 120.
      his wife and children, 122.
    Sir John (fourth and last of that name), 123, 126.
      is knighted (1617), 123.
      promotes the lighting of Lizard Point, 124.
    Lady Katharine (see _Katharine Cooke_).
    Margaret, i. 350.
    Mary, wife of Sir John James, ii. 156.
    Mary, succeeds to most of the family property, 132.
      marries Colonel John West, 132.
      her daughters take the name of Killigrew, 132 _note_.
    Maugan, 116.
    a Mr., in Dublin; Mrs. Delany's account of him, 135.
    a Peter (date uncertain), 121.
    Sir Peter, 'Peter the Post,' 126.
      his services to Charles I., 127.
    Sir Peter, the second, 128.
      his poverty, 128.
      is M.P., and marries Mary, sister of Lord Lucas of Colchester,
          128.
      his children, 129.
    Sir Peter, second baronet, 129.
      educated at Oxford and in France, 129.
      his verses on the execution of Anne Green, 130.
      do. 'Pro Rege Soteria,' 130
      is made Governor of Pendennis, 130.
      marries Frances Twysden, 130.
      his offspring, 131.
      his disappointments and retirement to Ludlow, 131.
      his portrait, 131.
      his death, 132.
      takes the Penryn Collector of Custom's money to repair Pendennis
          Castle, ii. 132 _note_.
    Ralph, 116.
    Radulphus, 116.
    Richard (or Michael--temp. 1350), 116.
    Sir Robert, of Hanworth, 154.
      is Chamberlain to two Queens of England, 154.
      is made Governor of Pendennis Castle, 154.
      Ambassador to the United Provinces, 155.
      his connexion with the Lindsey Level, 155.
      is 'sequestered' for a scuffle in Parliament, 155.
      is mixed up with Sir Thomas Overbury's affair, 155.
      visits Sir Walter Raleigh in the Tower of London, 155.
      gives Whitelock a seat for Helston, 155.
      his fine seat at Hanworth, 155.
      his wife, Mary Wodehouse, 155.
      his death, 156.
      his offspring, 156.
      Robert, son of Sir Robert, 156.
      one of his college exercises, 157.
    Sir Robert, Vice-Chamberlain to Queen Anne of Denmark, 159.
      his daughters, Elizabeth and Mary, 159.
    General Robert, 174.
      his monument in Westminster Abbey, 174.
      is killed at the battle of Almanza, 174.
      his effects, 176.
      his last letter, 177.
      his heroism, 177.
    Simon (temp. Richard 11.), 117.
    Simon (temp. Elizabeth), 122, 123.
    Thomas (temp. 15th century), 116 _note_, 117.
      his brass at Gluvias, 118.
    Thomas (temp. Elizabeth), 122, 123.
    Thomas, 'The Jester,' ii. 160.
      his birth, 160.
      his early Court appointments, 160.
      his mode of obtaining fees, 160.
      his intimacy with Charles II., 160.
      reproves the king, 161, 166, 167.
      his bet with Lord Lauderdale, 161.
      his mission to Venice, 162.
      his plays, 163, 170.
      their indelicacy, 163.
      King Charles II.'s copy, 165.
      his portraits, 165.
      his early fondness for play-acting, 165.
      his first wife, Cecilia Croft, 167, 168.
      their stormy wedded life, 167.
      intercepts Hyde's Canary wine, 168.
      obtains a license for a playhouse, 169.
      starts operas, 170.
      his second wife, Charlotte van Hess, 171.
      his children by her, 171.
      narrowly escapes assassination, 171.
      his quarrel with the Earl of Rochester, 171 _note_.
      his death, and burial in Westminster Abbey, 172.
      his character, 172.
      his will, 172.
      his indigence, 172.
      his letter to Mrs. Frecheville, 173.
      his children, 173.
    Tom, the younger, 173.
      a courtier and a playwright, 173.
    Thomas Guildford, 136.
      marries Catherine Chubb, 136.
      supports the Stuart cause, 136.
      settles at Bristol, and dies
      there without issue, 136.
      his portrait, 136.
    William (temp. Elizabeth), 25.
    William, Sir, Charles I.'s letter to him, i. 96.
    Sir William, Bart., ii. 123, 126.
    Sir William, 'Farmer' of the seals of Queen's Bench and Common
          Pleas, 153, 154.
      is at the Court of James I., 153.
      his wife, 153.
      his death, 154.
      his portrait, 154.
      Richard Carew's account of him, 154.
      his celebrated offspring, 154.
    General William, in the Danish service, 129.
      goes over to the Dutch, 129.
      recalled to England at the Restoration, 129.
    Sir William, baronet (son of Sir Robert), 157.
      Gentleman Commoner of Oxford, 157.
      his verses set to music by Henry Lawes, 157.
      writes plays, 157, 158.
      takes degree of D.C.L., 157.
      his Court appointments, 157.
      commands the King's body-guard, 157.
      is made a Baronet, 157.
      serves at York and at Edgehill, 157.
      is made Governor of Pendennis Castle, 157.
      his books, 157.
      specimen of his poetry, 158.
      is buried at the Savoy, 159.
      his wife and children, 159.

  Kimberley, Earl of, ii. 118, 156 _note_.

  Kimiel, Manor of, ii. 285.

  Kinski, Count de, marries Elizabeth Killigrew, ii. 129.

  Kingsley, Charles, his view of Martyn, ii. 223.

  Kingsley, Canon, his description of Sir Richard Grenville, ii. 5,
      13, 15.
    do. of Stow, 17-20.

  Kingston, Sir Anthony, i. 70.

  Kingston, Duchess of, her affair with Foote, i. 331.

  Knava, John, takes name of Godolphin, i. 345.

  Knott, the Cornish, i. 154 and _note_.

  Knovill, Eleanor, ii. 282.

  Knox, John, described by Sir Henry Killigrew, ii. 137.
    do. by James Melville, ii. 138.

  Kymyell, Elizabeth, ii. 282.


  L

  Lake's Parochial History of Cornwall, ii. 5.

  Lambe, Dr., Dean of Ely, ii. 184.

  Lambesso, i. 314.

  Lambourne, Annora or Eleanora, i. 50, 101.

  Lander, John, ii. 200, 203.

  LANDER, RICHARD, buried in the Savoy, ii. 194 _note_, 199-218.
    portrait of the Brothers Lander, 199 _note_, 203.
    his monument at Truro, 199, 201, 213.
    his birth and parentage, 201.
    his lineage, 201.
    his grandfather a noted wrestler, 202.
    his school-days at Truro, 202.
    becomes a gentleman's servant and visits the Continent, 202.
    goes to the Cape of Good Hope, 202.
    his short stature, 202.
    offers to accompany Captain Clapperton to Africa, 202.
    his first expedition, 203.
    publishes his travels, 203.
    his second expedition, 203-204.
    discovers the course of the Niger, 204.
    Murray purchases his papers and publishes his journals, 205.
    receives the first premium of the Royal Geographical Society, 205.
    his third and last expedition, 206.
    attacked by the natives near Ingiamma, 207.
    escapes by flight, 209.
    is killed by a musket-ball, 211.
    is buried at Fernando Po, 211.
    Laird and Oldfield's account of his last expedition, 211.
    Commander Allen's views and maps of Lander's discoveries on the
        Niger, 212.
    the Royal Geographical Society's recognition of his discoveries,
        ii. 212.
    his monument and stained glass window in the Savoy, 212.
    contemporary accounts of his appearance and character, 213, 214.
    his widow receives a Government pension, 214.
    his last letter, 214.

  Land's End, Davy's lines on the, i. 248.

  Lane, the artist, i. 135 _note_.

  Langford family, i. 292.

  Langherne, John, at Plymouth, ii. 56.

  Lanherne, i. 38, 42, 45, 73, 75.

  Lanow, ii. 4.

  Lansdowne, battle of, ii. 50.
    George, Lord, his vindication of Sir Richard Grenville, 'Baron of
        Lostwithiel,' ii. 35.
    erects a monument to Sir Bevill Grenville, ii. 57.

  Lanyons, The, ii. 281.

  Lawes, Henry, sets William Killigrew's verses to music, ii. 157.

  Leeds, Duke of, i. 390.

  Leland, on the origin of the St. Aubyns, ii. 287.

  Lemon, Harriet, i. 132.

  Lerchdekne, Margery, i. 101.

  Leslie, C. R., his remarks on Incledon's singing, ii. 107.

  Leveson-Gower family, ii. 37.

  Lipscombe's account of the origin of the Godolphins, i. 345.
    do. of Sir Francis Godolphin, i. 347.

  Lister, Martin, his connection with the Killigrews, ii. 131.
    his amusing letter to the Steward at Arwenack, ii. 133.
    his squabbles with the Falmouth Corporation, 135.
    his death, 135.
    his MS. history of the Killigrews, 135 _note_.

  Lizard Point, The lighting of, ii. 124.

  Lloyd, David, his 'State Worthies,' ii. 143.

  Locke, John, a correspondent of Dean Grenville, ii. 78.
    John, the friend of Sir William Godolphin, i. 351.

  Louisbourg, its siege and capture by Boscawen, i. 223 _et seq._

  Lower family, i. 195.

  Ludgvan, i. 169, 180, 247.

  Lundy Island, once belonging to the Grenvilles, ii. 31.

  Lysons, Rev. Samuel, i. 111.
    borrows Borlase's MS. from Sir John St. Aubyn, ii. 285.

  Lyte, Maxwell, his account of Eton College, i. 363.

  Lyttelton, Dr. Charles, Bishop of Carlisle, P. S. A., i. 180.


  M

  Macaulay, Lord, his sketch of England after the defeat of Charles I.'s
        cause, ii. 64.
    his epitaph on Martyn, ii. 241.

  Machado, Roger, his journals, ii. 117 _note_.

  Mackintosh, Sir James, his opinion of Opie's mental powers, ii. 264.

  Macklin ridiculed by Foote, i. 320, 323.

  Maclean, Sir John, his 'Deanery of Trigg Minor,' i. 354 _note_.

  Man-engine, The steam, i. 129.

  Markham, Gervase, his 'Most Honourable Tragedie of Sir Richard
      Grenville, Knight,' ii. 29 _note_.

  Marlborough, Duke of, his relations to Godolphin, i. 379, 385, 387.
    Duchess of, i. 378, 385, 393.

  Martineau, Harriet, her description of Mrs. Opie, ii. 262.

  MARTYN, REV. HENRY, ii. 221-241.
    his mournful journals and letters, 221.
    his religious views, 221.
    his biographer, Rev. John Sargent, jun., 222.
    his despondency, 223, 225 _note_.
    his birth and parentage, 223.
    his father, John Martyn, 224, 226.
    his school-days, 224.
    his personal appearance, 225 _note_.
    his portrait, 225.
    his amiable disposition, 225.
    fails to obtain an Oxford scholarship, 226.
    goes to Cambridge, 226.
    becomes acquainted with the Rev. Charles Simeon, 226.
    his religious views on his father's death, ii. 226.
    becomes Senior Wrangler, 226.
    is Fellow and Tutor of St. John's College, 227.
    gains the first prize for Latin prose, 227.
    rests at Woodbury on the Fal, 227.
    desires to become a missionary, 227.
    is ordained, and becomes Mr. Simeon's curate, 228.
    loses his patrimony, 228.
    seeks a chaplaincy in the East India Company's service, 228.
    makes the acquaintance of H. Kirke White, 228.
    preaches at Kenwyn, 229.
    his daily routine, 229.
    his reading, 230.
    his religious position and views, 230, 231.
    takes his degree of B.D., 232.
    preaches in London, 232.
    makes the acquaintance of Wilberforce, 232.
    obtains his chaplaincy, 232.
    his affection for Miss Grenfell, 232, and _passim_.
    sails for India, 233.
    long and stormy voyage, 233.
    lands with the troops at Cape of Good Hope in January, 1806, 234.
    his religious ministrations unappreciated on board ship, 234.
    falls ill at Calcutta, 235.
    reaches Dinapore, 235.
    his two native assistants in translating, 235 and _passim_.
    his translation of the Scriptures, 236, 239, and _note_.
    his health fails, 236.
    moves to Cawnpore, 237.
    his daily routine in India, 237.
    visits Persia, 238.
    renewed illness, 239.
    sets out for England, 240.
    dies near Tokat, 240.
    his burial, 241.
    his epitaph by Lord Macaulay, 241.
    a mission-hall at Cambridge, and a baptistry in Truro
    Cathedral erected to his memory, ii. 241.
    his motto, 241.
    Thomas, author of the map of Cornwall, 224.

  Marrais (or Orchard Marries), ii. 116.

  Marrys family, i. 114.

  Mary of Modena, George Grenville's admiration for her, ii. 81.

  _Mary Rose_, The, sinking of, ii. 13.

  Mary, Queen, requests Sir John Arundell to entertain the Prince of
      Spain, i. 85.

  Mary Queen of Scots, Sir Henry Killigrew's mission to her, ii. 141.

  Maskelyne, Dr., i. 255.

  Masson's account of the negotiations for the Restoration, ii.
      66 _note_.

  Master of the Revels, account of the Post, ii. 177 _note_.

  Mathews, his relation to Incledon, ii. 100, 111.

  Mawes, St., ii. 125, 126 _note_.

  Mawgan Church, Arundell brasses in, i. 74.

  Mayne, Cuthbert, his tragic story, i. 59.

  Mayow of Clevyan, i. 70.

  Menadarva, i. 103.

  Menalida, ancient name of Tehidy, i. 113.

  Michael Cornubiensis, his tribute to Cornish valour, ii. 48.

  Michael's Mount, St., i. 62, 64, 80, 118, 122; ii. 285 _note_, 290 and
      _note_, 301 _note_.

  Michael, Penkivel St., i. 192, 209.

  Michell (Medeshole), an ancient borough, i. 91.

  Michell, John, Dean of Crantock, i. 44.

  Michell, of Truro, a circumnavigator, i. 26, 139.

  Milles, Dean, P. S. A., his copy of Anstis's 'Register of the Order of
        the Garter,' xiv., i. 30.
    short notice of him, i. 31 _note_, 180.

  Militon, Job, sheriff of Cornwall, i. 65, 72.

  Millett, Grace, i. 247.

  Milton, John, his letter concerning Sir Richard Grenville's seizure
      of Lord Suffolk's property, ii. 35.

  Mohun, ix.

  Molesworths, The, xiv, i. 345, 354; ii. 283.

  Monk, Duke of Albemarle, ii. 41, 66, 122.

  Montpesson, Rachel, i. 105.

  Moore, Edward, his lines on Stow, ii. 17 _note_.

  Moore, Sir John, his recognition of Lord Vivian's merits, ii. 349.

  Morice, Catherine, of Werrington, wife of Sir John St. Aubyn, third
      baronet, ii. 294 and _note_.

  Morice, Mr., Warden of the Stannaries, i. 133.

  Morris, a cooper, friend of H. Bone, R.A., i. 162.

  Morwenstow, ii. 4.

  Mulgrave, Lord, a patron of Incledon, ii. 94.

  Munday family, i. 368.

  Murchison, Sir Roderick, Davy's advice to him, i. 262.

  Murdock, inventor of the gas-light, ii. 316, 317.

  Murphy, his intended life of Foote, i. 311.


  N

  Nares, Judge, his delight at Incledon's singing, ii. 92.

  Neath Abbey, ii. 7.

  Nelson, Lord, his personal thanks to Admiral Bligh, i. 143.

  Newcastle, Duchess of, i. 390.

  Newlyn East, the church of the Arundells of Trerice, i. 100.

  New South Wales, Admiral Bligh appointed as Governor, i. 144.

  Niger, The, ii. 201 and _note_, 204, 205.

  Nore, Mutiny at the, i. 143.

  Northcote's jealousy of Opie, and admiration for him, ii. 256, 277.

  Noy, Sir William, xiv.

  Nunnery at Lanherne, i. 75.


  O

  Oates, Mark, excites the rivalry of Opie, ii. 246.

  O'Connell, Lady, _née_ Miss Bligh, i. 146.

  Odo de Tregarrick, xiv.

  Oliver, Dr. William, i. 169, 178.

  Opie, Betty, ii. 263 and _note_.
    her letter from her brother, ii. 263.

  Opie, Edward, the present artist, 247, 253, 278.

  OPIE, JOHN, R.A., i. 135 _note_, 191; ii. 245-278.
    Sir Joshua Reynolds's saying concerning him, 245.
    his birth, 245.
    his parentage and lineage, 246, 247.
    the surroundings of his birthplace, 246.
    his style and originality, 246.
    his early genius as a painter, 248-250, 277.
    do. as a mathematician, 250, 251.
    his frugal rearing, 249.
    is helped by Dr. Wolcot, 250 and _passim_.
    do. by the families of Daniell and Vivian, and by Viscount Bateman,
        251.
    goes to London, 252.
    exhibits at the Royal Academy, 252.
    his London residences, 252, 255, 262.
    catalogue of his works, by J. Jope Rogers, 251, 252 _note_.
    his reading, 252, 253, 263.
    paints Dr. Johnson's portrait, 253.
    his rapid success and great popularity, 253.
    is introduced to George III., 253.
    his letter to his mother, 11th March, 1782, 253.
    his first marriage, 255, 278 _note_.
    his divorce, 255.
    his _bon mot_ thereupon, 255.
    his popularity wanes, 256.
    turns to historical compositions, 256.
    rumours of his being about to be knighted, 256 _note_.
    is ill from too close application, 256 _note_.
    his historical paintings, 256 and _passim_.
    excites Northcote's jealousy, 256.
    elected Associate of the Royal Academy, 257.
    his 'Schoolmistress' sold for £787 10s., 258.
    is elected Royal Academician, 258.
    marries his second wife, 258.
    his female portraits, 260, 261.
    his memoir by his wife, 261.
    visits Belgium, Holland and Paris, ii. 261, 262.
    resides at Berners Street, 262.
    his connexion with Alderman Boydell's Shakespeare Gallery, 262.
    his letter to his sister Betty, 20th Nov., 1800, 263.
    his literary talents, 264.
    his life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 265.
    his project for a 'Gallery of Naval Pictures,' 265.
    his Royal Academy lectures, 266-272.
    his project for a 'Gallery of Honour,' 267.
    do. for a colossal statue of Britannia, 267.
    do. for decorating St. Paul's Cathedral, 267.
    his health gives way, 272.
    his last hours, 273.
    his death, 272, 273.
    is buried at St. Paul's, 273.
    the nature of his illness, 273 _note_.
    his pupils, 273 and _note_.
    his private character, 274-277.
    his personal appearance, 275.
    portraits of him, 275.
    the critics on his paintings, 276, 277.
    his best works in Cornwall, 278.

  Opie, Mrs., the first, ii. 245 _note_.
    the second, 245 _note_, 258.
    her novels, 259.
    her poetry, 259, 275 _note_.
    her death, 260.
    her life by Miss Brightwell, 260.
    her portraits, 260.
    her influence on Opie, 260.
    her memoir of her husband, 261.
    her talent in sketching portraits, 262.
    her character and biographers, 262.

  Oppy, a Cornish artist, ii. 247.

  Orford, Lord, his opinion of George Grenville as a poet, ii. 84.

  Osler, Edward, F.L.S., i. 291, 304.


  P

  Paine, Anthony, of Stow, the Cornish giant, ii. 54, 55.
    made Halberdier of the guns at Plymouth, ii. 56.
    his portrait, 56.

  Palæologus, Dorothy, i. 106.

  Paris, Dr., his 'Life of Davy,' i. 252, 287.

  Parkes, his relations to Incledon, ii. 96, 100, 107.

  Paulton, Elizabeth, i. 101.

  Payne, John, Mayor of St. Ives, i. 64, 71.

  Pearson, Mrs., Martyn's youngest sister, ii. 228.

  Peigne, Jael de, ii. 149.

  Pellews, The, i. 292.

  Pellew (see _Lord Exmouth_).

  Pellew, Captain Fleetwood, i. 303.

  Pellew, Admiral Sir Israel, i. 297, 304.

  Pellew, Samuel, i. 292.

  Pencalenick, i. 314.

  Pendarves family, i. 110, 123, 124, 345; ii. 283, 285.

  Pendarves, Alexander, M.P., ii. 194 _note_.

  Pendeen, i. 171, 172, 174 and _note_.

  Pendennis Castle, i. 91, 94, 95, 307.
    in connexion with the Killigrews, ii. 117, 119, 125, 126 _note_,
        127, 130, 132 _note_, 152, 154.

  Pendyne, Richard, i. 174 _note_.

  Pengelly in Breage, i. 292.

  Pengerswick Castle, i. 341; ii. 124.

  Penpons, Manor of, ii. 285.

  Penrose, the maiden name of Richard Lander's mother, ii. 201.

  Penryn, ii. 125, 126.
    its loving-cup, ii. 125, 128.

  Penwarne's poems, i. 131 _note_.

  Penwerris, ii. 148.

  Penwith, i. 248.

  Penzance, i. 247, 250, 252 _note_, 268, 286 _bis_, 292, 348.

  Pepys, Samuel, his acquaintance with the Godolphins, i. 362, 366, 367.
    his notes on the Killigrews, ii. 160, 165, 166, 169, 179, 182.

  Percyvall, Sir John, i. 151, 156.

  Peter Pindar (see _Dr. Wolcot_).

  Petworth Park, Grenville portraits there, ii. 63.
    Opie's paintings at, ii. 276.

  Philleigh, the church of the Arundells, i. 100.

  Pigot, Admiral, a patron of Incledon, ii. 94.

  Piran (in Zabulo), skull of the saint i. 44.

  Pitt, his connexion with Ralph Allen, i. 13-15.

  Playfair, his notes on the Basset family, i. 112 _note_.

  Plymouth Breakwater, ii. 328.
    China, i. 161.
    citadel, ii. 6 _note_, 34.

  Pole, on Sir Richard Grenville (temp. Henry VIII.), ii. 9 _note_.

  Polwhele's, Rev. R., 'Biographical Sketches,' xi., i. 252, 293 and
        _note_, 296 and _note_, 314, 321, 336, 354.
    his visit to Incledon's mother, ii. 89.

  Polwheles and Landers intermarry, ii. 201.

  Pondicherry, account of, i. 218 _note_.

  Pope's connexion with Ralph Allen, i. 3, 10, 16-18.
    do. with Borlase, i. 178 and _note_.
    his tribute to George Grenville's poetry, ii. 85.
    do. to Sir John St. Aubyn, ii. 281, 299.

  Porter, Sir R. K., his remarks on Martyn, ii. 240.

  Portreath, alias Basset's Cove, i. 115.

  Post Office, development of (see _Allen_).

  Potheridge, Dorothy, ii. 122.

  Price's 'Mineralogia Cornubiensis,' ii. 311.

  Prideaux family, i. 114, 344; ii. 5, 33, 249, 283.

  Prideaux, Dean, xv.

  Prideaux, Edmund, Master of the Post Office, i. 6.

  Prideaux Place, Padstow, ii. 17 _note_, 249.

  Prince, his 'Worthies of Devon,' ii. 3, 15 _note_.

  Prior Park, account of, i. 19, 20, 22.

  Pumping-engines, steam, in Cornwall, ii. 308.


  Q

  Quarles, Francis, his lines on Cecilia Killigrew, ii. 168.

  Quarme, Rev., Lady Frances Killigrew's letter of reproach to him,
      ii. 130.

  _Quarterly Review_, on Borlase, i. 171 _et seq._
    on biography, x.
    on Foote, i. 312.
    on the St. Aubyns, ii. 287.
    on steam locomotion, ii. 325.
    on Trevithick's share in the invention, ii. 325.


  R

  Radnor, Earl of, i. 368.

  Raleigh, Sir Walter, his account of Grenville's action with the
      Spaniards at Flores, ii. 21 and _note_, 23, 24, 29.

  Rashleighs, The, xv., i. 114.

  Rauzzini, his recognition of Incledon's talents, ii. 95.

  Rebellion, Cornish (see _Humphry Arundell_).

  Red Lion Inn, Truro, i. 314.

  Redruth, its ancient markets and fairs, i. 114.

  Rencie, John, assumes name of Godolphin, i. 344.

  Reskymer, i. 101.

  Respermel, i. 200 _note_.

  Restormel Castle, ii. 64.

  _Revenge_, The, ii. 22, 29.

  Reynolds, Admiral, i. 301.

  Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his description of Opie, ii. 245.
    his life by Opie, 265.

  Rialton, i. 368.

  Richard of Cornwall, xiv.

  Richmond, Ritchie, Mrs., her account of Mrs. Opie, ii. 256.

  Road, The old main, through Cornwall, i. 99.

  Robarteses, The, xv.

  Robartes, Lord, at Braddock Down, ii. 286.

  Robinson, H. C., his account of Incledon, ii. 102.

  Rochester, Earl of, i. 368.

  Rogers, Henry, his riot near Camborne, ii. 294.

  Rogers, J. Jope, his catalogue of Opie's works, ii. 251, 252.

  Rollo, Duke, ii. 6.

  Roscarroth, Mr., a Royal Commissioner for Cornwall, ii. 150.

  Rosewarne, Mr., occupant of Godolphin, i. 344.

  Rosmeryn, ii. 148.

  Rosogan, James, i. 64.
    John, i. 64.

  Rospeith, i. 169.

  Royal Society, The, i. 288.

  Rupe, Eva de, i. 45.

  Ruskin, Mr. John, his remarks on Sir Richard Grenville's patriotism,
      ii. 23.

  Russia, Emperor of, his tribute to Davy, i. 271.


  S

  Sacheverell's relations to Godolphin, i. 381, 386.

  Sailor, The British, of the last century, i. 208.

  SAINT AUBYN FAMILY, i. 101, 195, 345; ii. 281-303.
    of Norman origin, ii. 281.
    first settle in Somersetshire, 282.
    Sheriffs and M.P.'s for Cornwall, 283.
    their intermarriages with Cornish families, 283.
    their large possessions in Cornwall, 284.
    their attitude during the Civil War, 285, 286.
    the family portraits, 293 _note_.
    Ann, marries George Killigrew, 132.
    Francis, i. 173.
    Geoffrey, ii. 282.
      his wife, 282.
      son of the foregoing, 282.
      his epitaph, 282.
    Guy de, 282.
      his wife, and settlement in Cornwall, 282.
    Mr. James Piers, the architect, 290.
    John, purchases St. Michael's Mount, 285 _note_.
    John, at the defeat of the Parliamentary troops at Braddock Down,
        286.
    Sir John, third baronet, 287.
      Walpole's tribute to his incorruptibility, 287.
      at Oxford with Dr. Borlase, 287.
      his ride from Oxford to Cornwall, 287, 288.
      his Parliamentary reputation, 289, 290.
      his benevolent action during the Cornish tumults of 1727, 290.
      builds the quay at St. Michael's Mount, 290.
      his speech in favour of short Parliaments, 291, 292.
      his portrait, 293.
      his connexion with the Henry Rogers riot, 294.
      death of his wife, 294.
      again attacks Walpole, 295.
      his appointment on the Select Committee to inquire into Walpole's
          conduct, ii. 296.
      offered a place as Lord of the Admiralty, 298.
      obtains ships of war to protect Cornish trade, 298.
      dies at Pencarrow, 298.
      his character, 298, 299.
      a friend of Pope, 299.
    Sir John, fourth baronet, 300.
      goes to Oxford, 300.
      is M.P. for Cornwall, 300.
      his monument at Crowan, 300.
    Sir John, fifth baronet, 300.
      his escapade at Westminster School, 300.
      enters Parliament, 301.
      his scientific and artistic tastes, 302.
      the friend of Opie, and pall-bearer at his funeral, 302.
      his portrait by Opie, 302.
      his death and funeral, 302, 303.
    Sir John, M.P., present baronet, 290 _note_, 303.
      Lieutenant at Tel-el-Kebir, i. 211 _note_.
    Margaret, i. 131.
    Sir Mauger de, ii. 283.
    Thomas, Sheriff of Cornwall in 1545, 283.
      his letter to the Viscountess Lisle on the death of his daughter,
          284.
      do. his grandson, 284.
      do. temp. Elizabeth, 284.
      Carew's account of him, 284.
    Thomas, a Royalist soldier, 286, 287.
      his monument and portrait, 287.

  St. George of Cornwall, xiv.

  St. Ives, its loving-cup, i. 119.

  St. Leger, Mary, ii. 20.

  'Salmonia,' Davy's, i. 254, 283 _bis_, 285.

  Sandys, Rev. William, i. 131.

  Sargent, Rev. John, junr., his memoir of Martyn, ii. 222.

  Sarrake (?), in Cornwall, ii. 140.

  Saunders, Margaret, ii. 153.

  Savage, Lady Mary, wife of Henry Killigrew, ii. 179.

  Savoy, The, the Killigrews' connexion therewith, ii. 181-183.
    Macaulay's description of the 'Sanctuary,' ii. 183.
    distinguished Cornish folk buried there, ii. 194 _note_.

  Scawen, Mr., a Royal Commissioner for Cornwall, ii. 150.

  Scotland Yard, i. 373.

  Scott, Sir Walter, with Davy at Abbotsford, etc., i. 272-276,
      283 _note_.

  Scrope, George P., M.P., his history of Castle Combe, i. 112 _note_.

  Secker, Dr., Archbishop of Canterbury, his communications with Foote,
      i. 325.

  Sergeaux, or Seriseaux family, ii. 282.

  Sham Castle, constructed by Ralph Allen, i. 20.

  Shee, Sir M. A., P.R.A., his tribute to Opie, ii. 277.

  Sheep, Cornish (see _Knott_).

  Sherwood, Mrs., her description of Martyn, ii. 225 _note_.

  Sherwoods, The, their friendship for Martyn, ii. 236, 237.

  Shield, his relations with Incledon, ii. 100, 106.

  Ships, comparison of French and British, of the last century, 209.

  Siddons, Mrs., her admiration of Incledon's singing, ii. 102.

  Sidney, Thomasine, marries Sir William Godolphin, i. 357.

  Silvius, Lady, i. 375 _note_.

  Simeon, Rev. Charles, the friend of Martyn, ii. 226, 228.

  Simon de Thurway, xiv.

  Slanning, Sir Nicholas, i. 91; ii. 3, 51.

  Smiles, Samuel, his account of Trevithick, ii. 320.

  Smith, Anne, i. 177.

  Soor, Joan le, i. 46.
    John, Dean of Canterbury, i. 101 _note_.
    Osbertus, i. 101 _note_.
    Ralph, i. 101.

  Southey, Poet Laureate, his opinions of Davy, i. 256, 257.
    his portrait by Opie, ii. 256.
    his sketch of Mrs. Opie, ii. 262.

  Spaniards, The, invade Penzance, i. 348.

  Sparnon, Judith, i. 292.

  Spry, Admiral Sir Richard, i. 208.

  Stamford Hill (see _Stratton_).

  Stanbury, ii. 4.

  Steam locomotion, The _Times_ upon, ii. 321.

  Stephenson, George, his acquaintance with Trevithick, ii. 321 and
        _note_, 322 and _note_.
    Robert, do., 336-338.

  Stokes, H. S., Mr., his 'Vale of Lanherne,' i. 39.
    his lines on Anthony Paine, ii. 54.
    do. on Lord Vivian, ii. 345.

  Stow, ii. 4-6 _note_, 17, 31, 32.

  Stratton, i. 82-87, 153.
    Battle of, ii. 45, 54.

  Swannacote, ii. 6 _note_.

  Swan Pool, Falmouth, 115 _note_.


  T

  Talma, his delight at Incledon's singing, ii. 103.

  Teague, Ann, mother of Richard Trevithick, ii. 310.

  Tehidy, i. 110, 113, 115, 116, 174 _note_.

  Temple, Dissolution of the Order, ii. 7.

  Temple, Sir William, i. 366, 368.

  Tennyson, Lord, his lines to Margaret, i. 371.
    his account of Sir Richard Grenville, and his 'Ballad of the Fleet.'
        ii. 6, 13, 22, 27.

  Theatres, The London, in Tom Killigrew's time, ii. 169.

  Thomas, of Cornwall, xiv.

  Thomson, Henry, R.A., a pupil of Opie, ii. 273.

  Thynne family, ii. 37, 68, 82 and _note_.

  Ticknor's sketches of Sir Humphry and Lady Davy, i. 263.

  _Times_, The, on steam locomotion, ii. 321.

  Tintagel, ii. 4.

  Tinten, i. 140, 145.

  Tirthney, i. 200 _note_.

  Tobin, Mr., i. 283.

  Tolverne (see also _Arundell_), i. 99, 100, 102, 195.

  Tonkin family, i. 171.

  Tonkin's notes to Carew's 'Survey of Cornwall,' i. 135.
    notes on the Grenvilles, ii. 9.
    Mr. John, i. 253.
    Mary, the mother of Opie, ii. 247.

  Tooke, Horne, his opinion of Davy, i. 257.
    his opinion of Opie's mental powers, ii. 264.

  Trebasil, i. 209 _note_.

  Tredeneck family, i. 345.

  Treffry, i. 101 _note_.
    of Fowey, ii. 119.

  Trefusis, i. 99, 102, 196, 302; ii. 126.

  Tregagle family, ii. 37.

  Tregameer, i. 194.

  Tregarrick, i. 195.

  Tregea, Charles, i. 204.

  Tregellas, J. T., writer on Cornish dialect, i. 26.

  Tregian family, i. 59.

  Tregian, Francis, ii. 14.

  Tregomynion family, ii. 5.

  Tregoning Hill, i. 342.

  Tregonwell, Sir John, i. 88.

  Tregothnan, i. 192, 194 and _note_, 205.

  Trelawnys, The, xv., i. 114, 119, 340.
    Bishop Jonathan, ii. 75.
    Sir John, Sir Bevill Grenville's letter to him, ii. 39.

  Trelissick, i. 255.

  Trelowarren, i. 197.

  Trelowith, Manor of, ii. 285.

  Tremanhere, i. 104, 169.

  Trematon Castle, ii. 10.

  Tremaynes, The, xv., ii. 5.

  Trembleath, i. 37, 40, 101.

  Tremeres, The, 283.

  Tremodret, i. 46.

  Tremrow, family, i. 344.

  Trengrove, i. 114.

  Treninick, Manor of, ii. 285.

  Trenouth, i. 114, 344.

  Trenowith, i. 195.

  Trenowiths, The, ii. 283.

  Treraven, i. 209 _note_.

  Trerice, i. 76 (see also _Arundell_).

  Tresahar, i. 103.

  Tresilian, i. 205.

  Tretawne, i. 140, 354.

  Trethurfes, The, ii. 283.

  Trevalga, i. 114.

  Trevanions, The, xv., 98, 102, 195; ii. 39.

  Trevanger family, i. 344.

  Trevaunance, ii. 247.

  Trevelyan, Sir John, i. 4.

  Trevemeder, ii. 310.

  Treverry, i. 297, 300.

  Trevethoe, ii. 293 _note_.

  Trevisa, John de, xiv.

  Trevithick, in St. Columb-Major, i. 39, 105.

  Trevithick, Francis, his biography of his father, ii. 307.

  TREVITHICK, RICHARD, i. 255, 260 _note_; ii. 307-341.
    his biography by his son, ii. 307.
    original residence of his family, ii. 310.
    his father a skilful engineer, 310-312, 317.
    his mother, 310 and _note_.
    his birthplace, 310, 312.
    his school-days, 312.
    his jealousy of Watt, 311, 315, 316.
    marries Jane Harvey, 312, 316.
    his enormous physical strength, 313.
    becomes an engineer, 314.
    becomes acquainted with Davies Gilbert, 314.
    invents the high-pressure engine, 315.
    his rapid success, 316.
    his personal appearance, 316.
    his portraits, 316.
    his further inventions, and adaptations, 317 and _note_.
    a capital humorous story-teller, 317.
    invents the steam road-locomotive, 318-320.
    goes to London to patent it, 319.
    his acquaintance with George Stephenson, 321.
    his claim to the invention of the screw-propeller, 321, 324 and
        _note_.
    exhibits his steam locomotive in London, 322.
    falls into ill health and poverty, 323, 325, 327.
    Government refuses to recognise his services, 323, 339.
    his attempt at a Thames tunnel, 323.
    South Kensington Museum, account of him and his patents, 323, 324.
    his many other inventions, 324.
    his genius as compared with Watt's, 325.
    his simple tastes and hopeful disposition, 325.
    his dealings with the Admiralty, 326.
    his wife's journey to London, 326.
    their touching interview, 326.
    returns to Cornwall, 327.
    applies himself to steam navigation, 327, 340.
    his connexion with Plymouth breakwater, ii. 328.
    applies steam to agriculture, 328.
    invents the 'pole-puffer' engine, 328.
    his manner of starting Wheal Herland engine, 329.
    his challenge to Woolf the engineer, 330.
    his sanguine temperament, 331.
    goes to Peru, 331.
    his reception at Lima, 332, 333.
    the destruction of his machinery, and ruin of his prospects, 333.
    makes £2,500 by raising some sunken cannon, 334.
    his thriftless, unbusiness-like habits, 334.
    is pressed by Bolivar as a soldier, 334.
    invents an explosive bullet, 334.
    amputates a man's legs, 334.
    visits Chili and Costa Rica, 335.
    narrow escape from being drowned, 336.
    reaches Carthagena, where he meets Robert Stephenson, 336.
    Mr. Fairbairn's letter about him, 336.
    returns penniless to England, 338.
    his hearty reception in Cornwall, 339.
    his later inventions, 339.
    his old age and poverty, 339, 341.
    his last project, 340.
    his death, 341.
    recent endeavours to provide a memorial to his honour, 341.

  Trevose, ii. 148.

  Trewarthenick, i. 195.

  Trewent family, ii. 5, 8.

  Trewinnard, Jane, ii. 119.

  Trewledick family, i. 344.

  Trewoof, Hawise, i. 193.

  Treworder, ii. 37.

  Trewyn, ii. 116.

  Truro, i. 161, 193, 196, 293, 296, 313.
    the new cathedral, ii. 200, 241.
    Grammar School, i. 250, 253, 293, 315, 316; ii. 37, 224, 347.
    Nunnery of Clares at, ii. 285.
    the nest of the Vivian family, ii. 345, 346 _note_, 361.

  Truthall in Sithney, i. 102.

  Truthan, i. 172.

  Tudy, St., i. 140.

  Twysden, Frances, ii. 130.

  Tywardreath, Priory of, ii. 285.


  U

  Ursula, St., xiv.


  V

  Vandermeulen, Elizabeth, i. 163.

  Varfel, i. 247.

  Virgil, on 'Worthies,' viii.

  Virginia, early accounts of, ii. 14.

  Vivian, Andrew, his connexion with Trevithick, ii. 313, 319, 328.
    family, ii. 5, 345, 346.
    John, Vice-Warden of the Stannaries, and founder of the copper
        trade, ii. 345.
    Johnson, his house, and mayor of Truro, i. 314.
    The Hon. Lalage, ii. 363.

  VIVIAN, LORD, ii. 345-364.
    his portrait by Sir M. A. Shee, 346.
    his medallion at Truro, 347.
    his mother, 346, 347.
    his birth, 347.
    his education at Truro, Lostwithiel, Harrow, and Oxford, 347.
    is articled to a solicitor, 347.
    prefers a military career, 347.
    obtains an ensigncy, 348.
    early service in the Low Countries, and Gibraltar, 348.
    exchanges into a cavalry regiment, 348.
    takes part in the Texel expedition, 348.
    marries Eliza de Crespigny, 348.
    goes to the Peninsula, 349.
    is present at Corunna, 349.
    his promotion, and return to the Peninsula, 349.
    at Orthes, Vittoria, and in the Pyrenees, 350.
    is wounded at Croix d'Orade, 350, 351.
    Duke of Wellington's despatch thereon, ii. 350.
    Napier's remarks thereon, 350.
    return to England, and promotions, 352.
    at Waterloo, 352-360.
      Vivian's final charge, 355.
      his narrow escape, 357.
      his account of the battle to Mr. Pendarves, 357, 359.
    his honours and decorations, 359.
    leads the British advance-guard to Paris, 361.
    his return to England, and reception at Truro, 361.
    his latter services and honours, 362.
    his election addresses, 363.
    his second marriage, 363.
    is made Master-General of the Ordnance, 363.
    is created a Peer, 363.
    his death and funeral, 364.
    his character, 364.
    Prior, i. 368.
    Rev. Thomas, ii. 345.
    William, son of Michael, ii. 194 _note_.
    Colonel John L., his genealogical notes, i. 45, 340; ii. 118 _note_,
        201.

  Volta, his acquaintance with Davy, i. 268.

  Vor Wheal, i. 342.

  Vyvyan, Sir Richard, i. 197.


  W

  Waagen, Dr., his opinion of Opie's paintings, ii. 276.

  Wade, General, Ralph Allen's patron, i. 4-13.

  Wait, Daniel, Mayor of Bristol, ii. 136.

  Wait, Mr. William Killigrew, ii. 136 _note_.

  Wallis, Captain William, of Lanteglos, a circumnavigator, i. 139.

  Wallyoborow, Sir Roger, xiv.

  Walpole, Horace, his opinion of Foote, i. 336.
    his opinion of Opie's paintings ii. 256.

  Walpole, Sir Robert, his tribute to
    Sir John St. Aubyn's incorruptibility, ii. 287.

  Walter de Constantius, xiv.

  Warburton, at Ralph Allen's, i. 10, 20.

  Waterloo, Lord Vivian at, ii. 352.

  Watt, Gregory, i. 255.

  Watt, the engineer, ii. 311, 315, 316, 325.

  Week St. Mary, i. 153, 156 and _note_, ii. 5.

  Wean, St., i. 171 and _note_.

  Webster, Lætitia, Lord Vivian's second wife, ii. 363.

  Wellington, Duke of, his duel with Lord Winchelsea, i. 205.
    his opinion of Lord Vivian, ii. 350, 360.

  Wesley, Rev. John, in Cornwall, i. 179 and _note_.

  West, Colonel John, marries Mary Killigrew, ii. 132.

  'West Country Garland,' The, ii. 37.

  Whewell, Dr., his opinion of Davy's discoveries, i. 261.

  White, H. Kirke, a friend of Martyn, ii. 228.

  Whitefield ridiculed by Foote, i. 325.

  Whitley, Mr. H. Michell, his valuable assistance to the author, xvi.
    his 'Cornish Chantries,' i. 200 _note_.
    his Cornish notes, ii. 120, _note_.

  Wick, Jane, ii. 68.

  Wilberforce, Bishop, his edition of Martyn's Journals and Letters,
      ii. 221 _note_.

  Wilkinson, Tate, his connexion with Foote, i. 324, 336.

  William IV., King, in Cornwall, i. 204.

  Willyams, Humphry, of Carnanton, i. 200.

  Williams, Michael, his opinion of Trevithick and his inventions,
      ii. 316, 330, 339.

  Winchelsea, Lord, his duel with the Duke of Wellington, i. 205.

  Winslade, Will., i. 64.

  Withiel, ii. 30.

  Wodehouse family, ii. 132, 155, 156 _note_.

  Wolcot, Dr. (Peter Pindar), i. 26, 162. the early friend of Opie,
        ii. 250, 276.
    his character of Lord Vivian, ii. 364.

  Wolf, the last seen in England, i. 169.

  Wolfe at Louisbourg, i. 224.

  Wolstan, ii. 4.

  Wolverston, Mary, ii. 120, 124 _note_.

  Woodbury, on the Fal, ii. 227.

  Wood, Anthony, his opinion of Anne Killigrew, ii. 189.

  Woolf's patents, ii. 330.

  Wordsworth, William, his impressions of Davy's genius, i. 276.

  Worth, R. N., Mr., his 'West Country Garland,' ii. 37.
    his account of the Killigrews, 133.


  Y

  York, Duke of, becomes Foote's friend, i. 329.

  Yonge, Dr., F.R.S., his account of Stow, ii. 17 _note_.

  Young, Dr. Thomas, i. 285.


  Z

  Zoological Society, originated by Davy, i. 269.

  Zulestein, Frederick de Nassau, Lord of, marries Mary Killigrew,
      ii. 159.
    his son made Earl of Rochford by William III., ii. 160.


THE END.


_Elliot Stock, Paternoster Row, London._




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