Cornish Characters and Strange Events

One poor fellow, whom he found chained in a dark cell on a bed of straw as a dangerous lunatic, he nearly cured by kindly treatment. As the fellow showed indications of great shrewdness and wit, Hicks released him and made much of him. A gentleman on a visit to the asylum once said to the lunatic, "I hear, man, that you are Hicks's fool."

"Aw," replied he; "I zee you do your awn business in that line."

He was once asked, "Whither does this path go, my man?" He answered readily, "Zure I cannot tell 'ee. I've knawed un bide here these last twenty year."

He was sitting on the high wall of the asylum that commanded the road for some distance, with a turnpike at the bottom of the hill. The company of a circus passed by, with the various horses. As the manager rode past, the lunatic said to him, "'Ow much might 'ee pay turnpike for they there spekkady hosses?" "Oh," said the manager, "the same as for the others." "Do 'ee now?" said the man on the wall. "Well to be zure; my vather 'ad a spekkady hoss that never paid no turnpike. They there sparky (speckled) hosses don't pay no turnpikes here."

"Bless my life," said the manager; "I am much obliged to you for informing me of the fact. So, sir, I am to understand that piebald horses are exempt from paying at the toll-gate?"

"What I zed I bides by. They there spekkady hosses never pay no turnpikes here in Cornwall. What they may do elsewhere, I can't zay."

The lunatic watched the cavalcade proceed down the hill, and when it reached the turnpike, he enjoyed watching a lively altercation going on between the toll-taker and the manager. Presently the latter came galloping back, very hot and angry.

"What do you mean by telling me that in Cornwall piebald horses pay no turnpike?"

"Right it is so—cos you have to pay it vor 'un," said the man and stepped out of reach inside the wall.

One day this same man was put to watch a raving maniac, who, for his own safety, when the fit was on him, used to be put in a padded room. There was an eyehole in the door, and the lunatic, whom Mr. Collier calls Daniel, was set to watch him. The poor wretch in his ravings called, "Bring down the baggonets! Oh, marcy on me! Forty thousand Roosians! Oh! oh! oh! I wish I was in Abraham's bosom," and began to kick and plunge furiously. On which Daniel shouted to him through the hole, "Why I tell'ee if you was, you'd kick the guts out of 'un."

Daniel came from Tavistock, where he used to walk out with a girl. As he told the story himself—"I was keepin' company with a maid, and I went to the parson. Says I to he, 'I want you, however, to promise me wan thing,' says I. 'What is it?' says he. 'I want you to promise me,' says I, 'never to marry me to thickee there maid when I be drunk.' He zaid he'd promise me that, quite sure. 'Thankee, your honour,' said I; 'then I'm all right, for I'll take damned good care you never do it when I'm zober.'"

Daniel was then in the Volunteers and was out on Whitchurch Down in a review. An officer rode up to the bugler, and said "Sound a retreat!" The bugler tried, but could produce no sound. "Sound a retreat!" roared the officer. Again the bugle would not speak. "Sound a retreat!" shouted the officer for the third time. "Don't you see that the cavalry are charging down on us?" "There now, I can't," replied the bugler; "for why? I've gone and spit my quid of terbaccer in the mouthpiece o'un."

Hicks no doubt was quite justified in picking up and appropriating to himself stories wherever he could find them and from whomsoever he heard them. A common friend of ours was with him one day in Plymouth, and as they sat on the Hoe my friend told Hicks a couple of racy anecdotes about his own work.

That evening both dined with Lord Mount Edgcumbe, and Hicks told both these stories with immense humour, as though they had happened recently—the previous week—to himself.

And certainly some of Hicks's stories are very old chestnuts.

This, for instance, was told by Hicks as having to his knowledge occurred to two brothers, Jemmy and Sammy, in the Jamaica Inn, on the Bodmin Moors, between that town and Launceston.

They were to sleep in a double-bedded room, and they dined and drank pretty freely—the Jamaica Inn is now a temperance house—and went to bed. Before retiring to rest one of them put out the light.

After they had been in bed a little while Jemmy said, "I say, Sammy, there be a feller in my bed."

Sammy—"So there be in mine."

Jemmy—"What shall you do, Sammy?"

Sammy—"Kick 'un out."

Jemmy—"So shall I."

So they both proceeded to kick furiously, with the result that each fell out on the opposite side of the bed. By mistake in the dark the last to put out the light and go to bed had entered his brother's bed.

I have heard the same tale told of the Yorkshire moors some thirty to forty years ago.

The famous story of Rabbits and Onions, that Hicks would tell in such a way as to bring the tears rolling down the cheeks with laughter, may or may not be founded on fact, or it may be—and that is probably the case—a condensation into one tale of a good deal of experience with juries. But the same story is told by Rosegger of a trial in Styria.

The following is almost certainly genuine. Anyhow, it is an excellent example of the way in which Hicks could put a story.

"I met a man [name given] in Bodmin, and said to him, 'You are not looking well. What is the matter?'

"The man replied that he had spent an indifferent night.

"'How is that?' I inquired.

"'I sleep with father,' he replied; 'and I woke up all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and I reached forth my hand and couldn't feel nothing; so I ses, ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?" I got out of bed and strick a light, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched the room; sarched under the bed and in the cupboards; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down over the stairs, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched under the stairs and in the kitchen; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'Then I went to the coal-hole, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched all about; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'And I went down into the garden, all in the dead waste and middle of the night; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down to the parzley bed, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and there I found 'un. He'd a cut his throat with the rape(ing)-hook. I took 'un by the hair of his head, and I zaid, ses I, "You darned old grizzley blackguard, you've brought disgrace on the family." I brought 'un in, and laid 'un on the table, and rinned for the doctor; and he zewed up the throt o'un avore the vital spark was 'xtinct. Zo you zee, Mr. Hicks, I've had rather an indiffer'nt night.'"

Here is another of Hicks's stories:—

A young curate was teaching some boys in the Sunday-school, and was impressing on them the duties to their parents.

"What do you owe your mother, Bill Lemon?"

"I don't owe her nothin'! her never lent me nothin'."

"But she takes care of you."

The boy stared.

"What does she do for you?"

"Her gives me a skat in the vace sometimes, and tells me to go to"——(curate intervenes).

"That is not what I mean. When you are sick, what does she do?"

"Wipes it op."

Hicks, as already intimated, was a very short man, very rotund about the belly. Following the Mayor of Bodmin into the room on the occasion of a public dinner, he heard the Mayor announced in a voice of thunder, "The Mayor of Bodmin." Following directly after he intimated to the butler "and the Corporation." The man, without a moment's consideration, roared out, "and the Corporation."

A man of Hicks's acquaintance—every man of whom he had a story to tell was an acquaintance—made a bet that he would drink a certain number of gallons of cider in a given time. The trial of the feat came off, and the man was reduced to the last stage of helplessness, in an armchair, his head resting on the back of the chair, his mouth open, utterly unable to proceed, when he sighed out to his backers, "Try the taypot!" The spout was used to pour down the liquor and the bet was won.

Hicks had a story of a farmer whom he knew intimately, and who had been canvassed for the approaching election, and had promised his vote to the lady of the candidate. Said she, "Dear Mr. Polkinghorne, when you come up to town, do come and see us, come any time—come to dinner. You are sure to be welcome."

Now, as it so fell out, Zechariah Polkinghorne did go to London on some business, and in the evening, when his work was over, he called at the member's house. As it happened that evening, a dinner party was given. When his name was taken up, the member's wife said: "Good gracious! What is to be done? We must, I suppose, have him in, or he will be mortally offended, and next election will not only vote against us, but influence a good many more voters."

So Mr. Polkinghorne was shown up into a room full of ladies and gentlemen in evening dress, and felt somewhat out of it. Presently dinner was announced and he went in with the rest and took his place at the table.

"So sorry, Mr. Polkinghorne," said the lady of the house; "so sorry we have no partner for you to take in; but, you see, you came unexpectedly, and we had not time to invite a lady for you."

"Never mind, ma'am, never mind. It doth remind me o' my old sow to home. Her had thirteen little piglings—zuckers—for a brood, and pore thing had only twelve little contrivances for them to zuck to."

"What did the thirteenth do then, Mr. Polkinghorne?"

"Why, ma'am, thickey there little zucker was like me now—just out in the cold."

Hicks was driving along a road in the dark one night when he came upon an empty conveyance, and two men close to the hedge on the roadside. One man was drunk—a Methodist class-leader—but the other was sober. The drunken man was lamenting:—

"Ah, too bad! What shall I do when I be called to my last account? What shall I zay?"

"Zay, Nathaniel?" the sober man said. "What can 'ee zay but that you've been to Liskeard a auditing of accounts, and took an extra glass? 'Twill be overlooked for once, sure enough, up there."

A day or so after Hicks met the sober man, and asked how Nathaniel had got on that night.

The answer was: "He's a terrible affectionate man to his family, and when we got home he took the babby out o' the cradle for to kiss 'un, and valled vore with 'un over a vaggot of vurze. Jane, her got into a passion and laid onto 'un with the broomstick, while he kep' tumblin' over the babby. When I comed away her'd 'a thrashed 'un sober; and they'd 'a got the babby on the dresser, naked, and was a-picking out the prickles."

Hicks knew a man who was of a morose, fanatical humour; and this man had married a widow with a brisk, merry wench for a daughter. Once he reproved the girl for singing secular songs in this vale of woe, and said to her: "Suppose you was took sudden, and called to your last account with the Soldier's Tear in your mouth?"

Another of his stories was of a chapel where they sang a Cornish anthem; the females began—

To which the men, basses and tenors, responded—

A boy at church—another of Hicks's anecdotes; he knew the boy well—heard the parson give out the banns of "John So-and-so and Betsy So-and-so, both of this parish. This is the third and last time of asking."

"Mother," said the lad after service; "I shouldn't like it to be proclaimed in church that sister Jane had been askin' for a husband dree times afore her got one."

Again, another story told by Hicks:—

"Where be you a-bound to this afternoon?"

"Gwain to see the football match."

"Aw! Like to be a good un?"

"Yes, I reckon. There be a lot o' bitter feelin' betwixt the two teams."

But, indeed, the stories told by William Robert Hicks were many, and for those who would desire more, let them get Mr. W. F. Collier's Tales and Sayings of W. R. Hicks, Plymouth, Brendon and Son, 1893; and look at "An Illustrious Obscure," by Abraham Hayward, q.c., in the Morning Post, 8th September, 1868; and J. C. Young's Memoirs of C. M. Young, 1871, Vol. II, pp. 301-8.

Hicks died at Bodmin 5th September, 1868, at the age of sixty.

CAPTAIN TOBIAS MARTIN

Tobias Martin, better known as Cap'n Toby, was born in the parish of Wendron on January 5th, 1747, and was the son of a father of the same name, who was a common working miner, but afterwards was advanced to be a mine agent, or captain of a mine, which situation he retained during the remainder of his life.

The elder Cap'n Toby was passionately fond of reading, and read promiscuously whatever came into his hand. But his main literary passion was for poetry, and he speedily conceived that he possessed the poetic afflatus, because he could string lines together that rhymed more or less well. He went to a mine near Helston, but was never in sufficiently good circumstances to be able to give his children a moderate, let alone a superior education.

Tobias, his second son, inherited the father's love of reading and liking for the Muse, and as a boy he bitterly lamented that he was not sent to school.

Deprived through his father's poverty or negligence of the means of education enjoyed by others, he resolved on supplying the deficiencies of such instruction by self-application.

From an early age he was employed at the tin-stamping mills near Helston and Redruth. After he became a man he worked underground on his own account, i.e. in working setts that he had taken, and at other times on what is termed among miners "tutwork and tribute."

He had a great ambition to learn French, and studied diligently a French grammar that he found among his father's books; but, of course, remained perfectly ignorant of the pronunciation, though able to write a few sentences and read a book in that language.

Proud of the former capability, he composed some lines in French, or what he supposed to be French, and wrote them on the belfry door. A Mr. William Sandys, an attorney at Helston, happening to see these lines, inquired who had written them, and when he learned that they were by Toby Martin, he gave him a letter to a Mrs. Brown, who had resided some time in France, and was believed to have the language at her tongue's end, to this effect: "The Bearer, Tobias Martin, wishes to learn French, but his pockets are low." From her Toby did receive some lessons.

Mr. Sandys occasionally employed him, as he could write well, to assist in his office; he also appointed him toller of the dues arriving from tin-bounds in Breage, belonging to the Praed family, which appointment he held to the time of his death.

In 1772 he married Mary Peters, of Helston, and by her had ten children, four sons and six daughters. In the same year, and, indeed, at the very same time, Mr. Sandys offered him a situation as escort to his eldest son, Mr. William Sandys, into France, where the latter was to remain so as to acquire proficiency in the French language. And—what was somewhat rough on Toby—he had to leave with his charge the day after his marriage. The place chosen for William Sandys to acquire French was singularly badly chosen: it was Painpol, in Brittany, where the natives talk Breton, and what French they do speak is of an inferior quality and very unlike that spoken in Paris or Touraine.

After having seen his charge safe to Painpol, Toby returned to Helston and to his wife.

Next year (1773) in August Toby was despatched again to Painpol, this time to bring young William home. On his return he set to work to acquire the Dutch language and learn Latin; but, indeed, there was scarcely a subject that did not attract him, and that he did not strive to acquire some knowledge of. It was unfortunate for him that his studies were so desultory, that he was "Jack of many trades and master of none."

Some years after his return from France he was appointed captain at Camborne Vean Mine. He also held the situation of managing agent of Wheal Heriot's Foot, commonly called Herod's Foot, near Liskeard.

A story is told of him which Mr. Tregellas gives in his Cornish Character and Characteristics under a fictitious name. Captain Toby was having his pint of ale at a tavern, when in comes a miner who was wont to be called "Old Blowhard," and was not esteemed trusty or diligent as a workman.

"How are 'ee, Capp'n?" says Bill.

"Clever. How art thee?"

"Purty well as for health," says Bill, "but I want a job. Can 'ee give us waun ovver to your new bal?"

"No, we're full," replied the Captain.

"How many men have 'ee goat ovver theere?" asked Old Blowhard.

"How many? Why we've two sinking a air-shaft through the flockan, and two to taakle, and that's fower; and theere's two men in the oddit, and a booay to car tools and that, and that makes three moore, and that oaltogether es seben."

"And how many cappuns have 'ee goat?" said Bill.

"How many? Why ten."

"What! ten cappuns to watch over seben men? I doan't b'lieve you can maake that out, for the 'venturers would'n stand it."

"'Tes zackly so then, and I'll maak it out to 'ee in a moment. Waun cappun es 'nough we oal knaw, but at the laast mittin, the 'venturers purposed to have waun of the 'venturers' sons maade a cappun, and to larn, they said; and so a draaper's son, called Sems, was put weth me from school, at six pound a month, and a shaare of what we had in the 'count-house."

"Well, but how can you maake ten of you and he?"

"Why, I'll tell 'ee how, and you mind 'nother time, Bill, for theere's somethin' of scholarin' in ut. Now see this: I myself am waun, baent I?"

"Iss, sure," said Bill.

"Well, and theest oft to knaw that young Sems es nawthin'; well, when theest ben to school so long as I have, theest knaw that waun with a nought attached to un do maake 10, and so 'tes zackly like that."

In the year 1790 Toby's wife died, and he was left with all his ten children on his hands. One of these soon died, and he sent for the sexton, who, after having been regaled with liquor, declared with gushing emotion, "Lor' bless ee, Cap'n Toby, I'd as soon deg a grave for 'ee as for any man with whom I be acquainted." In 1792 he married Ann James, a widow, who kept a small public-house at Porthleven, and by her had four children, two sons and two daughters.

A short time after his marriage he took the Horse and Jockey Tavern in Helston, which he kept for four years, and then the "Helston Arms," of which he was host for five more. He still retained his situation of mine-agent in Wheal Ann tin mine in Wendron, about two and a half miles from Helston, where, on quitting the last-mentioned inn, and after the mine had failed, he lived for some years as captain of Wheal Trevenen, which was run by a company, but the smelting was consigned to a speculator of Truro named Daubuz,[34] who had with him one Coad as a clerk. After a while Martin supposed that Daubuz was swindling the company, and about the same time Coad quarrelled with Daubuz, and pretended to reveal how he had been cheating; thereupon the Adventurers set up their own smelting works. Martin's account of Daubuz must not be accepted as true. He wrote full of vindictive hate. Anyhow, a misunderstanding arose between him and the company respecting his accounts. The Adventurers debited him with a large sum, which ought to have been and was afterwards charged to the purser. In September, 1811, at a general meeting of the Adventurers, a Mr. Wyatt, auditor of the accounts, accused Captain Toby of having falsified his books. This he stoutly denied, and insisted that his accounts were correct. In November, 1811, he received his dismissal, not as having acted fraudulently, but on the plea that he was too old and past work. He was discharged accordingly in his sixty-second year, and he applied for and got work at other mines. A year passed before Captain Toby could have his accounts investigated, and then he received from the purser a copy of an account, wherein a balance of £109 6s. 6d. appeared against him. To this he objected, and a dispute arose that lasted some time.

On February 1st, 1812, he was arrested for debt, and confined in the sheriff's ward at Bodmin for over two months before an accommodation was arrived at, and he was discharged.

As he could not get Mr. Wyatt to have the accounts inspected, for he proved shifty, Captain Toby was obliged to appeal to the Vice-Warden of the Stannaries to issue an order for the investigation of the accounts. This alarmed Wyatt, and it was mutually agreed that they should be gone through by Mr. Richard Tyacke, of Godolphin. Mr. Tyacke in a very short time found that the balance against Martin was only £29 18s. 4d., and that then there was owing to him from the company nearly a twelvemonth's wage. He accordingly in February, 1813, published the following notice:—

"To the Public.

"Having been requested to examine some disputed accounts between Trevenen Adventurers and Captain Tobias Martin, I find from investigation that the errors in dispute were not contained in his account, but in those prepared against him.

"Richard Tyacke."

After this he received from the company the balance of his salary, and that put an end to the business. His connection with Wheal Trevenen having ceased, he worked at Wheal Vorah as captain to 1817, when he was in his sixty-ninth year. Then he was appointed storekeeper to the mine and to keep the stock accounts at six guineas per month; and this situation he filled till March, 1817, when in his seventy-ninth year he was superannuated at three and a half guineas per month.

On June 4th, 1825, his wife died, and not long after he received the news of the death of his eldest son, Tobias, under tragical circumstances, at Washington, U.S.A. The younger Tobias and his wife had a daughter, a child who went gathering fruit in the hedges of some land belonging to a rough fellow, who finding her there, carried away her basket and took as well some of her wearing apparel. When Tobias Martin the younger heard of this he and his wife went to remonstrate and ask for the return of the basket and the garments. An altercation ensued, and the man of whom they complained with his revolver shot Tobias Martin dead.

This shock broke down the old captain. He had always loved his glass, but now he took to it more freely than ever, and was often intoxicated.

He died on April 9th, 1828, in the eighty-first year of his age, and he was buried in Breage churchyard.

Captain Tobias Martin's poems were published at Helston in 1831, and a second edition in 1856. They are absolutely worthless as poetry, and one may look in vain through them to find an original or a poetic idea. But as we have given this man's life, a specimen of the stuff he wrote must also be given, and one of his shortest compositions will suffice.

In his religious views Toby Martin was a Deist or Unitarian. In personal appearance he was inclined to corpulency. His countenance was large and open, and he stood five feet nine inches high.

THE MAYOR OF BODMIN

When Henry VIII died, Edward VI was aged but ten, and the unprincipled Protector Somerset took the reins of power into his own hands; and as he was a strong partisan of the reformers, and enriched himself on the plunder of the Church, he carried out what he considered to be reforms with a high hand, with the assistance of the Council, which was filled with creatures equally rapacious and equally devoid of principle. As the monasteries had all been suppressed, and the monks and nuns turned adrift, these poor homeless wretches wandered over the country entreating alms. In November, 1548, an Act was passed ordering all such to be branded on the hand, and on repetition of the offence to be adjudged to slavery.

The baneful effects of the dissolution of the monasteries had, moreover, been severely felt by the people, for the monks had been ever ready to afford shelter and relief in sickness or distress, and the indigent were now driven to frightful extremities throughout the land, much as would be the case nowadays were the workhouses and poor laws to be abolished. The monks, moreover, had been most kind and considerate landlords, and, always residing in their monasteries, what money they drew in rents from their tenants was spent on the land. But no sooner were the rapacious hands of the nobles laid on the property of the Church, than these new proprietors demanded exorbitant rents, and very generally spent the money in London. The cottagers were reduced to misery by the enclosure of the commons on which they had formerly fed their cattle.

Added to all this came violent changes in the services of the Church. Candles were forbidden to be carried on Candlemas Day, ashes to be used on Ash Wednesday, and palms on Palm Sunday; all images were to be removed from the churches, and even the sacred form of the Redeemer on the Cross above the rood was not respected.

Several of the bishops objected to these proceedings, but Somerset was inexorable. Then several colleges, chantries, and free chapels, as well as fraternities and guilds, were abolished, and their lands and goods confiscated to the King, which, being sold at very small prices, enriched many of the Protestant hangers-on of the Court, and strengthened their resolution to maintain the changes.

These violent and hasty proceedings provoked widespread discontent and even exasperation. The first disturbances arose in the county of Cornwall, where one Body, a commissioner sent down to "purify" the churches, was stabbed in the back whilst pulling down images in a church.[35] Thence they quickly spread into the counties of Devon, Wilts, Somerset, Hants, Sussex, Kent, Essex, Gloucester, Hereford, Worcester, Leicester, Oxford, Norfolk, and York. In most parts the rioters were quickly put down, but the disorders in Devonshire and Norfolk threatened more dangerous consequences (1549). The commotion first broke out at Sampford Courtenay on Whit Monday, the day after the Act for reforming the Church Service had been put in force. The people assembled and forced the priest to say Mass in the ancient manner, instead of using the Book of Common Prayer. The commotion spread through the adjoining parishes, and many came up out of Cornwall; many of the disaffected gentry of the two counties placed themselves at the head of the insurgents; among them were Sir Thomas Pomeroy, Mr. Coffin, and Mr. Humphry Arundell, and the body swelled to 10,000 men. They then laid siege to Exeter, but the citizens shut their gates against them. Some attempts were made to scale the walls, which being repulsed, the rebels endeavoured to gain admittance by burning the gates. The citizens, by adding more wood to the fires, kept the enemy back till they had raised fresh defences within. After this the insurgents sought to effect a breach by mining the walls. Having completed their mine, laid their powder, and rammed the mouth, before they could explode it the citizens had drenched the powder by means of a countermine filled with water.

Lord Russell, glutted with the plunder of the Church, was sent to relieve the city, but the rebels cut down trees and laid them in his way, so that he could not approach, and after burning some villages he determined on withdrawing to Honiton. He now found his retreat cut off, and he was constrained to give battle on Clyst Heath, and defeated them with great slaughter, killing 600 men. "Such was the valour and stoutness of these men," says Hooker, "that the Lord Grey reported himself that he never, in all the wars that he had been in, did know the like." The ringleaders were taken and executed. The vicar of S. Thomas by Exeter, who was with them, was conveyed to his church and hanged from the tower, where his body was left to dangle for four years.

The defeat was on the 7th August, and the rebels were pursued to Launceston, every one falling into the hands of the King's troops being put to death. Arundell and other gentlemen were, however, taken prisoners. The Lords of the Council wrote to Lord Russell on the 21st August congratulating him on his success, and directing him to search for Sir Thomas Pomeroy, and to "send up Sir Humphry Arundell, Maunder, and the Mayor of Bodmin, and two or three of the rankest traitors." They desired him to delay a short time the issue of a general pardon. In the same month Lord Russell, William, Lord Grey of Wilton, and Sir William Herbert, informed the Council that they sent up Pomeroy, Arundell, and other prisoners; and they observed that Castle, Arundell's secretary, went up not as a prisoner, but as an accuser of his former employer.

Nicholas Boyer, the Mayor of Bodmin, had escaped capture. But the King's army pursued the dispersed Cornishmen into the duchy; and Sir Anthony Kingston, Provost-Marshal, arrived at Bodmin, where the Mayor was snugly ensconced in his house, and congratulating himself on his escape, trusted that it was not known that he had taken part in the rising.

No sooner was Sir Anthony in the town than he wrote to Boyer, announcing his intention of dining with him on a certain day. The Mayor felt highly honoured at such a mark of confidence and condescension, and made great preparations, brought out his best plate and linen and wine, and ordered pasties and siskins and dainty cates of all kinds to be prepared in his kitchen, so as to receive his guest with becoming hospitality.

A little before dinner the Provost took him aside and whispered in his ear that execution must that day be done in the town, and nowhere so suitably as in the street in front of Boyer's door, and he desired that a gallows might be erected by the time the dinner was ended. The Mayor complied with the request, and during the meal the hammering of the carpenters could be heard. The Provost was cheery and jocose, and if Boyer had been nervous at first, this wore off under the friendly conversation of his guest.

When dinner was concluded, Sir Anthony asked if the little job he had ordered had been carried out, and when Boyer assured him that it was so, "I pray you," said the Provost, "bring me to the place." Thereupon he took the Mayor by the hand and led him forth before his door, in the kindliest manner imaginable.

On seeing the gallows, the Provost asked Boyer whether he thought them strong enough to sustain the weight of a stout man. "Aye," replied the Mayor; "doubtless they be so."

"Well, then," said the Provost, "get up speedily, for they are prepared for you."

"I hope," exclaimed the astonished and disconcerted Mayor, "that you mean not what you speak."

"In very faith," said Sir Anthony Kingston, "there is no remedy, for you have been a busy rebel."

And so, without trial or defence, he was hanged before his own door by the man who had just dined at his table.

Sir John Hayward, who relates this incident, tells also the story of a miller who resided near Bodmin. This man had been a "busy rebel," and fearing the wrath of the Provost-Marshal, he told a "sturdy, tall fellow, his servant," that he had occasion to go from home, and that if any one should inquire for the miller, the fellow should affirm that he was the man, and that he had been so for three years. The Provost came to the mill and inquired for the miller, and the servant at once presented himself as such. The Provost inquired how long he had kept the mill. "These three years," answered the servant.

"String him up on the nearest tree!" ordered Sir Anthony.

The fellow then cried out that he was not the miller, but the miller's man. "Nay, sir," said the Provost, "I will take thee at thy word; and if thou beest the miller, thou art a busy knave; if thou beest not, thou art a false lying knave; whatsoever thou art, thou shalt be hanged." When others told him that the man was in reality only the miller's servant, the Provost replied, "Could he ever have done his master a better service than to hang in his stead?" and so he was despatched.

Hals says: "Mayow, of Cleoyan, in S. Columb Major, was hanged at a tavern signpost in that town, of whom tradition says his crime was not capital; and therefore his wife was advised by her friends to hasten to the town after the Marshal and his men, who had him in custody, and beg for his life, which accordingly she prepared to do. And to render herself the more amiable petitioner before the Marshal's eyes, this dame spent so much time in attiring herself, and putting on her French hood, then in fashion, that her husband was put to death before her arrival. In like manner the Marshal hanged John Payne, the mayor or portreeve of St. Ives, on a gallows erected in the middle of that town, whose arms are still to be seen in one of the fore seats in that church, viz. in a plain field, three pineapples."

Humphry Arundell, who had headed the rebels, was the son of Roger Arundell, of Helland, and he had been appointed Governor of S. Michael's Mount in 1539. He had married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Fulford. After his capture he was taken up to London, confined in the Tower, and hanged at Tyburn, 27th January, 1549-50. Sir Thomas Pomeroy, of Berry Pomeroy, managed to save his life, but suffered severely in his estate. He married Jane, daughter of Sir Piers Edgcumbe, of Cothele.

Strype tells us that "when this rebellion was well allayed, it was remembered how the bells in the churches served, by ringing, to summon and call in the disaffected unto their arms. Therefore, in September, an order was sent down from the Council to the Lord Russell, to execute a work that proved no doubt highly disgustful to the people, viz. to take away all the bells in Devonshire and Cornwall, leaving only one in each steeple, which was to call the people to church. And this partly to prevent the like insurrection for the future, and partly to help to defray the charges the King had been at among them."

Strype adds that "two gentlemen of those parts, Champion (Champernon) and (Sir John) Chichester, assistant perhaps against the rebels, took this opportunity to get themselves rewarded, by begging, not the bells, but the bell-clappers only, which was granted them, with the ironwork and furniture thereunto belonging. And no question they made good benefit thereof."

JOHN NICHOLS TOM,

alias SIR WILLIAM COURTENAY, K.M.

This strange man was the son of William Tom, landlord of the "Joiners' Arms," S. Columb, and of his wife Charity Bray—"Cracked Charity" was the nickname she bore—who died in the County Lunatic Asylum, and it was from his mother that the subject of this memoir derived the bee that was in his bonnet.

John Nichols was born at S. Columb Major on November 10th, 1799, and he owed his name to a kinsman of his mother—his godfather, a well-to-do-farmer, who was unmarried.

At an early age John Nichols Tom showed a mischievous disposition. He was turned out of the dame's school at which he had been placed for cutting off the whiskers of her favourite cat. At the next school where he was placed he exhibited the characteristic vanity that was a leading feature through life. He liked to be thought to know more than any of his fellow pupils. One day he propounded to them the question:—

"Who is Neptune? I bet none of you know."

"Neptune," replied one urchin, "is my father's Newfoundland dog."

"Then who is Venus?"

"She is mother's spaniel bitch," answered one of the boys.

John Nichols in a fury fell on both with his fists.

"No such thing. Neptune is a god, and Venus is a goddess."

A general fray was the result, out of which our hero came mauled.

When it became time for him to strike out a course in life, he was placed in an attorney's office, and he conducted himself there well.

A fire broke out on the premises of the elder Tom and consumed the house. This occasioned Mrs. Tom to sink into a condition of profound melancholy, and she rapidly became so wholly insane that she had to be confined in an asylum, where some years later she died, and then Mr. Tom married a schoolmistress who lived on the other side of the road. This did not please John Nichols, and he quitted the attorney's office and was placed in the firm of Plumer and Turner, wine merchants and maltsters at Truro, as cellarman. After five years' service the firm came to an end, and Tom then began to trade on his own account. He married Catherine, second daughter of a Mr. Philpot, of Truro, whose elder sister Julia was engaged to a Mr. Hugo. Tom moved into his father-in-law's house, which was old and dilapidated, and rebuilt it as a commodious mansion, with spacious premises in its rear for the carrying on of the business of a maltster. But on a sudden a fire broke out in this newly-constructed malt-house, and speedily consumed all that had been built for his business. Folk naturally concluded that, as Tom had recently had some losses, he had set fire to his premises, that were insured for £3000, and they remembered that his father's house had also been insured and been burnt down. But Tom demanded that a most searching inquiry should be made as to the cause of the fire, and the insurance company, satisfying itself that it was accidental, paid the sum without demur. With the money thus received he rebuilt his premises, and continued the business. Those who saw much of him were convinced that, as they termed it, "there was a screw loose somewhere." He affected an unusual dress, and tried to induce his wife to assume a habit that would have caused her to be mobbed in the streets. He moreover became great as an orator, denouncing the Church, the aristocracy, and all organized governments. In a word, he was a Socialist of the day.

The letter was rational enough, but it was the last rational act he committed, as this also was the last time that he signed his name as above.

For some time his imagination had been influenced by stories that circulated relative to Lady Hester Stanhope, the "Queen of Lebanon," of her wealth, her authority over Arabs and Druses, of her prophecies and expectations of the near coming of the Messiah to institute the millennium; and he felt convinced that he was predestined to be the forerunner or herald to announce the coming advent of Christ. He had read a translation of Lamartine's Travels in the East, in which it was stated that, according to Eastern prophecy, the Messiah would ride into Jerusalem on a mare foaled ready saddled, and that Lady Hester had such a mare ready for the advent of the Prince of Peace. "Since destiny," said Lady Hester to Lamartine, "has sent you hither—permit me to confide to you what I have hitherto concealed from so many of the profane. Come, and you shall see with your own eyes a prodigy of Nature, the destination of which is known only to myself and my immediate votaries. The prophets of the East have announced it centuries ago, and yourself shall be judge if a part of those prophecies have not been accomplished." Lamartine goes on to say: "She opened a gate of the garden which led into a smaller inner court, where I perceived two magnificent Arab mares of the finest blood, and of the most symmetrical form. 'Approach,' said she to me, 'and examine that bay mare: see if Nature hath not accomplished in her everything which is written about the mare that is to carry the Messiah—she was foaled ready saddled!'

"I saw, in fact, in this beautiful animal a freak of nature. The mare had, in the place of the shoulders, a cavity so broad and deep, and imitating so well the form of a Turkish saddle, that it might be said with truth that she was foaled ready saddled, and but for the want of stirrups she might have been mounted without experiencing the want of an artificial saddle."

This account that John Tom had read of Lady Hester made the most profound impression on his mind, and inflated as he was with self-conceit and ambition, he conceived that he was called to take a place beside, if not before, Lady Hester, as a herald of Christ. Accordingly, having his pocket full of money from the sale of his malt, he started for Havre, and thence for Constantinople and Syria.

For what follows, till his reappearance in England in December of the same year, 1832, our sole authority is "Canterburiensis," who wrote Tom's life, but who does not tell us what were his authorities, and who certainly so embroidered some of the facts he relates, that in instances we feel uncertain whether they are facts or fables.

According to this authority he arrived at Beirout, at what date we are not informed, and he at once presented himself before the English consul, under the assumed name of Sir William Courtenay, Knight, and requested an escort to the Lebanon, where he desired to see Hester Stanhope, and acquaint her with the fact that he was the forerunner of the expected Messiah. The consul saw that the man was not wholly sane, and he was in a dilemma what to do with him; finally he concluded that it would not be unwise to send one mad head to the other, and see what would be the result. Accordingly he gave Sir William, as we must now call him, an escort and he departed for her Lebanon residence, at Dgioun.

"On arriving at the principal entrance, Sir William sent forward his dragoman to announce to the slave, who was standing at the door, that a person of consequence, on a mission of high import, requested an interview with Lady Hester Stanhope. Sir William and the dragoman were accordingly conducted into a narrow cell, deprived almost of all light, and almost destitute of furniture; here they were ordered to wait, until the pleasure of her ladyship should be known. After waiting full three hours in the most suffocating heat, the slave returned with a rather peremptory message, demanding, on the part of her ladyship, to know who and what the stranger was who had solicited an interview with her. Sir William wrote with his pencil, that he had travelled from the County of Cornwall to announce to the expectant faithful in the East the approaching advent of the Messiah, and that as her ladyship had established herself in the Holy Land for the direct purpose of awaiting that glorious event, which was so near at hand, he considered that he was acting in conformity with the high destiny that was awarded to him to communicate to her ladyship in person the arrival of the Millennium, that she might co-operate with him in spreading the glad tidings throughout the Holy Land, and acknowledge him as the harbinger of the great event.

"Fully satisfied that Lady Hester Stanhope would in a short time rush into his arms and hail him as the accredited messenger of Heaven, Sir William felt not the torrid heat, but stood in dignified complacency with himself, proudly awaiting the result of his message. In a very short time the slave returned, followed by several others, and it would be a difficult task to describe the astonishment and indignation of Sir William when he was informed that it was the decided opinion of her ladyship that he was an impostor, for that not one of the prophecies had been as yet fulfilled, which were to precede the coming of the Messiah, nor in any one of those prophecies was the slightest mention made of a messenger being appointed to announce His coming, and that accordingly the sooner he returned to his native country, the better it would be for him."

In a word, Sir William was detected, without having been seen, as an impostor, and was ejected from the house as such.

We should greatly like to know how much of this is true. Not only are no dates given, but the name of the consul at Beirout is also withheld.

Nothing remained for Sir William Courtenay to do but to retire discomfited to England, and try there whether he would have better luck. He embarked in a ship of Beirout for Malta, and after a residence of about three weeks in that island, sailed for England and arrived safely in London. The first intimation that he was back, received in Cornwall, was that he had assumed the name and title of Sir William Percy Honeywood Courtenay, Knight of Malta, King of Jerusalem, and Prince of Abyssinia, and that he had presented himself before the electors of Canterbury to contest that borough, in December, 1832.

He had taken up his residence at the Rose Hotel, Canterbury, where his dignified manners, his rich dress, his professions that he was the rightful owner of the estates of the Earl of Devon, and that he intended to establish his claims to them, his assertion that he was not only Knight of Malta but also de jure King of Jerusalem, imposed on so many of the burgesses of Canterbury that he polled 375 votes; but was unsuccessful, as the opponent candidates, the Honourable R. Watson and Lord Fordwick gained respectively 832 and 802.

After his defeat Tom made a circuit through the towns and villages of Kent, declaiming against the poor laws, the revenue laws, and such other portions of the statutes of the realm as might be considered by the poor to be adverse to their interests. By his speeches he obtained great success, and a sort of periodical that he issued, entitled The Lion, was greedily bought and distributed. But it ran through eight numbers only. The full title was "The Lion. The British Lion will be free. Heaven is his throne and earth is his footstool. He spake and it was done, he commanded and it stood fast. Liberty, truth bears off the victory, independence."

He then started for Devonshire, accompanied by a gentleman who so firmly believed in his pretensions that he defrayed his expenses to the amount of a thousand pounds. This man, Mr. George Denne, and a young surgeon named Robinson were completely duped by him. "My dearest George," said the Knight of Malta to the former, "it may please Heaven to take me in a short time from this sphere of my sublunary greatness, to translate me to the beatitude of another world."

"I hope not, Sir William," said George Denne.

"But," continued Sir William, "I shall carry with me the pleasing satisfaction of having provided in a truly princely manner for those who, whilst I was on earth, had the sense and sagacity to see into the nobility of my character, and to acknowledge me as Lord Viscount William Courtenay, of Powderham Castle, Knight of Malta, King of Jerusalem, Prince of Arabia, King of the Gypsies, and all the other honours and titles which by descent or creation belong to me. To you, therefore, George Denne, I bequeath the Hales' estate, with the proviso that you erect a monument on the highest ground on that estate to the memory of me, the great Lord of Devon, the regenerator of the world, and one of the greatest benefactors whom the human race ever saw."

In like manner he bequeathed to Mr. Robinson the whole of Powderham Castle and all its valuable paintings, together with one-half of the lands belonging to the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury Cathedral.

It will hardly be credited to what an extent he was run after at Canterbury. Professional men, such as physicians, surgeons, solicitors, also gentlemen of independent property and tradesmen of the first respectability, were his staunch supporters, and daily invited him to their table, and introduced him to the bosom of their families. The invitations which he received to dinners, teas, and suppers were so numerous that he was known to attend several parties in a few hours. Mothers with marriageable daughters hunted him in packs.

But—it was asked—why did not Sir William take possession of his extensive estates in Devon? It was to do this that he started, attended by his faithful squire, Mr. George Denne. On reaching Exmouth, Sir William despatched his squire to the authorities of the place to announce his arrival, and that as Lord of Devon and King of Jerusalem he would hold a levee at eight o'clock in the evening, at which he would be ready to receive them and lay before them his right and title to Powderham Castle and the estates belonging to it.

But when the hour of the levee arrived only one man appeared, and that was the steward of the Earl of Devon, who came very bluntly to inform him that should he venture to set foot within the private grounds of Powderham Castle he would be prosecuted for trespass.

Next day Sir William repaired to the newspaper office at Exmouth, and drew up an advertisement, purporting to be an announcement of the arrival of the rightful Earl of Devon for the purpose of taking possession of Powderham Castle, and a statement to the effect that he was now recalled to the metropolis to appear before the House of Lords to substantiate his claim. The editor laughed in his face, refused to insert what was handed over to him, and tore it to shreds.

Full of wrath, Sir William shook off the dust from his feet as a testimony against Exmouth, and departed for London, where he remained two or three days, and then returned to Canterbury.

There he speedily involved himself in difficulties by his exertions in favour of some smugglers. An action had taken place in July, 1833, between the revenue cutter Lively and the Admiral Hood, smuggler, near Goodwin Sands, and in the course of the flight of the latter vessel her crew were observed to throw overboard a great number of tubs, which on being picked up proved to contain spirits. The Admiral Hood was captured, but no contraband goods were found on board; and on the men being taken into custody, Tom presented himself as a witness before the magistrates, and swore most positively that he had seen the whole affair, and that no tubs had been thrown from the Admiral Hood; he further stated that he had observed those which had been picked up by the revenue officers floating about on the water many hours before the Admiral Hood came near the Goodwins. This was so diametrically opposed to the truth that a prosecution for perjury was resolved on, and he was indicted at the Maidstone Assizes on July 25th, 1833. It was then proved that Sir William, on the very day on which the action had taken place, Sunday, the 17th February, had been twenty-five miles distant at Boughton-under-Blean, near Canterbury, and at the very hour of the action had been at church there. A verdict of conviction followed, and Mr. Justice Park, the presiding judge, passed a sentence of imprisonment for three months, to be followed by seven years of transportation beyond the seas.

This having reached the ears of his relations in Cornwall, representations were made by them to the Home Secretary that he was insane, and he was transferred to a lunatic asylum at Barming Heath, where he remained for four years, but whence he still issued addresses to his adherents in Canterbury and interfered in the election of councillors. There he remained for five years, and then a determined effort was made by his father and friends, and by Sir Hussey Brian, to obtain his liberation, and Lord John Russell ordered his liberation. This was an electioneering manœuvre, and Lord John had some difficulty in justifying his conduct in the House when later taken to task for having set this madman free.

On quitting the asylum, Tom hoped to take up his residence with a Mr. G. Francis, with whom he had been on terms of intimacy before. But Mr. Francis was by this time disillusioned, and when the Knight of Malta presented himself before him armed with a new pair of pistols, he remonstrated with him, and ordered him to quit the house; when he went to a cottage hard by occupied by one Wills, who was completely the dupe of Tom, and a passionate agitator. Then he went to Bossenden Farm occupied by a person named Culver. He gave out that he was the true proprietor of many of the finest estates in Kent, but that he would not enter into possession for two years. In addition to his living upon and amongst the farmers, he induced many of them to give him large sums of money, promising that for every shilling lent he would return a pound; and that, when he was in full possession of his estates, all his followers should have land free from rent according to their deserts. These promises made many dupes, and enabled him to indulge in luxuries which excited the astonishment of those not acquainted with his resources, and made many believe that he was what he pretended to be—really a nobleman of large property. To keep up this notion he made presents to various individuals; thus, to a fellow who had been prosecuted by the Revenue, Courtenay gave two horses worth £40. He was fond of displaying himself in fantastic dresses; he allowed his hair and beard, that was coal-black, to grow long; and he taught his followers to roar his battle song, of which only a few verses can be given here:—