Though comparatively modern, the history of the lighting of the Eddystone rocks, if we begin it with the suggestions for such a laudable scheme, commences a good deal earlier than many people imagine; that is to say, it was not originated by Henry Winstanley. On March 1, 1665, the Duke of York, as head of the Admiralty, considered and referred to the Trinity House a petition from Sir John Coryton and Henry Brouncker for leave to erect ‘certain lighthouses’ on the south and south-west coast of England, which was at that time entirely unlit. They suggested placing ‘coal-fire lights’ on the Scilly Islands, the Lizard, Portland Hill, the Start, at St. Catherine’s in the Isle of Wight, and on the Eddystone!

The scheme, save for the proposed lighthouse at the Lizard, was a new one, and the suggestion to light the Eddystone rocks, thirteen miles from land, was an entire novelty; it had not been proposed in post-Reformation times, and the most devotional and adventurous monk or hermit can surely never have looked upon those wave-washed rocks as a possible home, however much their loneliness might have attracted him.

When the Trinity House came to consider the proposal, the lighthouse at Scilly was that generally approved: the alternative proposals had then dwindled down to one, namely, that for the Eddystone. The brethren ‘well knew’ that the spot—‘the Edie Stone,’ as they call it—was one on which the projected work ‘could hardly be accomplished’; but they were sure that, ‘if a lighthouse be settled upon the Edie Stone, it might be of as great use as other lights in his majesty’s kingdoms.’ As to what was proposed to be gathered for support of this light, the Trinity House considered that 2d. a ton from vessels that would have its benefit would be amply sufficient, and the brethren held that ‘the natives of his majesty’s kingdoms’ should be, by authority, free from paying anything at all; if these terms were agreed to, they had nothing to say against a lighthouse at the Eddystone.

Here then, in 1665, we have an interesting expression of opinion as to a lighthouse on the Eddystone and—as we have said—the earliest proposition for such a building. Perhaps the proposers, on reflection, considered their scheme too adventurous, too costly to allow of possible profit; at all events nothing further was done in the matter of any of the lighthouses suggested.

But the commerce of Plymouth, and its importance as a seaport for the New World, were then growing year by year, and the number of vessels to and from America and the West Indies that had to run in jeopardy by reason of the Eddystone shoal was very rapidly increasing. We are not, therefore, surprised to find another scheme for a lighthouse on these rocks put forward at no very distant date.

It was presented to the ‘Court’ of the Trinity House, and came under consideration on February 11, 1692. The minute of the proceedings reads as follows:—

‘Proposall’s of Walter Whitfield, Esqʳᵉ, read. Where, under the authority of the corporation, he will undertake, at his own charge, to erect a lighthouse upon Dunnose, and to secure the Eddistone from being obnoxious to the navigation, upon such conditions as to the allowance for the charge of setting upp and maintayning thereof, and a share of the profitts arissing therefrom, as shall be agreed on; he being, besides, to be at the whole trouble and charge of obtayning subscriptions and of procuring and passing the King’s letters patent for the same. Which said proposals having been considered and debated, it was the opinion of the Board that a light upon Dunnose would be unnecessary, if not altogether useless; but, on the contrary, one uppon the Eddistone would be of great use and benefit to the navigation. And thereupon it was ordered that he should be desired to explain himself, whether he meant the setting a lighthouse upon Eddistone: and if so, what he estimated his charge thereof would be, and what he would be content to take from the navigation.’

This is the record of the first step taken towards establishing the famous lighthouse at the Eddystone, with which, hitherto, the name of Henry Winstanley has been alone associated. Who was Walter Whitfield, where he came from, what was his profession, and what led him to turn his mind to lighthouse erection, we do not know; but it is certain that, as he soon after explained, it was by means of a lighthouse on the Eddystone that he proposed to indicate the dangers of those rocks; and though we may rightly regard Winstanley as the builder of the first Eddystone lighthouse, we certainly cannot properly regard him as the projector of the scheme. The credit for this must be given first to those who suggested it in 1665—Sir John Coryton and Henry Brouncker—and secondly to Walter Whitfield, whoever he may have been.

In his ‘explanation’—offered in March, 1692—Whitfield entered into more detail as to what he proposed with regard to the Eddystone. It was that he should build there ‘a substantiall lighthouse’ wholly at his own charge, on condition that the Trinity House would be ‘assistant to him therein’ and allow him the entire profits for the first three years, and then one half the clear income for the term of fifty years; on the expiry of this lease, the ‘sole profit’ to revert to the Trinity House, in whose name the patent was to be applied for. The proposal was judged ‘so reasonable’ that the board immediately accepted it, with a proviso that Whitfield should pay them twenty shillings a year for the first three years of his term.

By the middle of June, 1692, preliminaries had been so far settled that the petition to Queen Mary—William III was absent abroad—for the grant of a patent for a lighthouse at the Eddystone had been placed in the hands of the Earl of Pembroke, then master of the Trinity House, for presentation to the queen. The earl duly gave it in; on the 20th of the month it was referred to the law officers of the crown, and they reported in its favour on the 11th of July.

But, for some reason, the patent was not granted till two years later, June 20, 1694, and after that there was another mysterious delay of two years before anything further was done; then, on June 10, 1696, another agreement was entered into between Whitfield and the Trinity House. There are some important differences between the terms of this agreement and that of 1692; they are far more advantageous to Whitfield, who is to enjoy the entire issues of the lighthouse for five years, and the moiety for fifty. Directly after this last agreement, the lighthouse was commenced—not by Whitfield at all, but by Henry Winstanley.

The delay in the actual grant of the patent, and then—that granted—in the commencement of the work, not by Whitfield but by Winstanley, is noteworthy, and points to this: Whitfield, on receiving intimation that the sought-for patent would be granted, made some preliminary experiments on the Eddystone; these so far convinced him of the hazardous nature of the undertaking that he hesitated to take up the patent, but at length did so. He then made further experiments, which confirmed his estimate of the dangers and difficulties of the work, and he was, perhaps, induced to abandon it on Henry Winstanley, more venturesome and enterprising than himself, stepping in and offering to erect the building if more favourable terms were conceded. This, likely enough, is the explanation of the delays and of the second agreement between Whitfield and the Trinity House. Of an agreement between Winstanley and Whitfield I have failed to find any trace; but it is probable that one was entered into; at all events, there is the authority of a contemporary document at the Trinity House for stating that Winstanley himself finally undertook the erection of the Eddystone lighthouse, under the authority of the Trinity Board, at his sole expense.

Let us pause for a moment in the narrative of the Eddystone’s history, and consider what is known of Henry Winstanley. He was born, probably, at Littlebury, a mile from Saffron Walden, in Essex, about the year 1646. The names of his parents are not known, but one of his brothers was Robert, the author of Poor Robin’s Perambulations from Saffron Walden to London. Of Henry’s early life and education we have but slender particulars. That he travelled abroad we may judge from a statement made by himself that he had seen the most renowned palaces of France, Germany, and Italy; and the probability is that his tour was undertaken with a view to obtaining proficiency in art—a profession in which he was certainly successful. Both as a draftsman and an engraver he distinguished himself, and worked more with ‘an eye to the main chance’ than most persons gifted with artistic power; for he appears to have selected subjects for his labours that would attract the observation of, and appeal directly to, the wealthy. He engraved the Manor House at Wimbledon, and dedicated his work to its opulent and noble owner, Thomas Earl of Danby; he drew and engraved a vast picture of Audley End House, of which building he was, in 1694, clerk of the works, and he sent his picture, with a characteristic letter, to the Earl of Suffolk: that is the letter in which he refers to his early travels on the Continent. To mention one of his minor productions as a draftsman, there is now amongst the collection of playing cards at the British Museum, a pack designed and executed by Winstanley.

Besides being an artist, Winstanley distinguished himself in the science of mechanics, though the particular branch of that science in which he seems to have laboured was rather of the order to astonish than to yield profitable scientific result. His house and garden at Littlebury bristled with mechanical contrivances of every description. If you chanced to tread upon a particular board in the passage, forthwith a door at the end of it flew open, and out sprang a skeleton and stood before you; as you sat yourself comfortably on a seat in the summer-house, before which was a duck-pond, the seat on which you sat was promptly swung round into the centre of the pond. In London he exhibited some of his contrivances with considerable monetary profit, and his moving wax-works held their own at Hyde Park Corner till 1709.

Whatever wealth he possessed came to him either by some of the means described, or by inheritance. Jean Ingelow’s sprightly poem about the Eddystone lighthouse, beginning,—

tells how the ‘lovely ladies’ flocked to his London shop, where he followed the trade of a mercer, and anxiously inquired after the arrival of his homeward-bound ships, bringing the fabrics in which they yearned to clothe themselves; but the poet here follows an error into which many writers have fallen. There is no evidence that Henry Winstanley was a mercer; so that, whatever circumstances determined him to put a lighthouse on the Eddystone, it was not the loss of one of his own ships with a costly cargo of rich novelties in stuffs from abroad! Rudyerd, the architect of the second Eddystone lighthouse, was a mercer, whose shop was on Ludgate Hill—hence probably the mistake arising from a confusion of the two men.

So much for the personal particulars connected with Henry Winstanley; in the next chapter we will resume the history of the actual construction of the Eddystone lighthouse, about which we have much more definite information.