In Epulæ Thyestæ, printed in 1649, Peters is accused of having been the executioner of King Charles:—

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

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

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

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

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

Butler hits off the work of the Triers in Hudibras:—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lockart wrote the following letter to Secretary Thurloe:—

"Dunkirk, July 8-18th, 1658.

"May it please your Lordship,

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

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

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

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

A few of these will suffice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preaching on the subject of duties, he said:—

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

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

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

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

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

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

The above anecdotes are some of those thus noted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The authorities for the life of Hugh Peters are mainly: Memoirs of Edmund Ludlow, 1771; B. Whitelocke's Memorials of English Affairs, 1732; Rushworth's Collections, 1692; Bishop Burnet's History of His Own Time, 1724; John Thurloe's Collection of State Papers, 1742; J. B. Felt's Ecclesiastical History of New England, 1855; Benjamin Brooke's Puritans, 1813, Vol. III; The Trial of Charles I and of Some of the Regicides, in Murray's Family Library, 1832; the Rev. Samuel Peters' A History of the Rev. Hugh Peters, New York, 1807; An Historical and Critical Account of Hugh Peters (with portrait), London, 1751, reprinted 1818; Felt (Joseph B.), Memoir, a Defence of Hugh Peters, Boston, 1857; Colomb (Colonel), The Prince of Army Chaplains, London, 1899; also Gardiner's (S. R.) History of the Commonwealth, and the Dictionary of National Biography, passim.

JAMES POLKINGHORNE, THE WRESTLER

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

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

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

There was a Cornish jingle that ran as follows:—

that had reference to the wrestling matches.

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

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

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

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

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

"A more unsatisfactory issue could hardly have been conceived, and the rival backers forthwith endeavoured to arrange another encounter. Polkinghorne refused to meet Cann, however, unless he discarded his shoes."[7]

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

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

Full accounts are to be found in The Sporting Magazine, London, LXVII, 165-6; LXIX, 55-6, 215, 314-16, 344. In the Annual Register, chronicle 1826, 157-8.

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

HENRY TRENGROUSE, INVENTOR

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

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

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

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

Henry was educated in Helston Grammar School, and became, by trade, a cabinet-maker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Russell Lowell puts these lines into the mouth of Cromwell, in his Glance behind the Curtain:—