portrait of the Cornish fish-wife has been sketched from life at her
abode, Homer Place, Crawford Street, Mary-le-bone. She was born in the
parish of Paul, by Penzance, on Christmas Day, 1766, so that she has
nearly completed her eighty-fifth year. To visit the present
Exhibition, she walked the entire distance from Penzance, nearly three
hundred miles; she having 'registered a vow' before she left home,
that she would not accept assistance in any shape, except as regarded
her finances. She possesses her faculties unimpaired; is very
cheerful, has a considerable amount of humour in her composition; and
is withal a woman of strong common sense, and frequently makes remarks
that are very shrewd, when her great age and defective education are
taken into account. She is fully aware that she has made herself
somewhat famous; and among other things which she contemplates, is her
return to Cornwall, to end her days in 'Paul parish,' where she wishes
to be interred by the side of old Dolly Pentreath, who was also a
native of Paul, and died at the age of 102 years."
Mary Kelynack died in Dock Lane, Penzance, 5th December, 1855, and was
buried in S. Mary's churchyard.
Messrs. Routledge published the story of her walk to London and back
in one of _Aunt Mavor's Storybooks_, with illustrations.
CAPTAIN WILLIAM ROGERS
Captain William Rogers, son of Captain Rogers, who died in November,
1790, was born at Falmouth, 29th September, 1783. He married Susan,
daughter of Captain John Harris, of S. Mawes. In 1807, Rogers was
master, in temporary command of the _Windsor Castle_, a packet-boat
from Falmouth to Barbados. She mounted six long 4-pounders and two
9-pounder carronades, with a complement of twenty-eight men and boys.
On October 1st, 1807, as the packet was on her passage to Barbados with
the mails, a privateer schooner was seen approaching under all sail.
As it seemed quite impossible to escape, Captain Rogers resolved on
making a stout resistance, though the odds against him were great. In
fact, the privateer mounted six long 6-pounders and one long
18-pounder, with a complement of ninety-two men.
At noon the schooner got within gunshot, hoisted French colours, and
opened fire, which was immediately returned from the chase-guns of the
_Windsor Castle_. This was continued till the privateer, whose name was
_Le Jeune Richard_, came near, when she hailed the packet in very
opprobrious terms, and desired her to strike her colours. On meeting
with a prompt refusal, the schooner ran alongside, grappled the packet,
and attempted to board. But the crew of the _Windsor Castle_ made so
stout a resistance with their pikes that the French were obliged to
abandon the attempt with the loss of ten killed and wounded. The
privateer, finding she had a hard nut to crack, lost heart, and sought
to cut away the grapplings and get clear; but the packet's mainyard,
being locked in the schooner's rigging, held her fast.
Captain Rogers evinced great judgment and zeal in ordering some of his
men to shift the sails as circumstances required, or to cut them away
in the event of the privateer succeeding in the conflict.
At about 3 p.m. one of the packet's guns, a 1-pounder carronade,
loaded with double grape, canister and a hundred musket balls, was
brought to bear on the deck of the privateer, and was discharged at
the moment when a fresh boarding party was collected for a second
attempt. The result was a frightful slaughter, and as the French
reeled under this discharge, Captain Rogers, followed by the men of
his little crew, leaped upon the deck of the schooner, and
notwithstanding the apparently overwhelming odds against him,
succeeded in driving the privateer's men from their quarters, and
ultimately in capturing the vessel.
Of the crew of the _Windsor Castle_ three had been killed and two
severely wounded; but of that of _Le Jeune Richard_ there were
twenty-one dead upon the deck, and thirty-three were wounded.
From the very superior number of the privateer's crew still
remaining--thirty-eight men--whereas Captain Rogers had only fifteen
available, great precautions had to be taken in securing the prisoners.
They were accordingly ordered up from below, one by one, and each put in
irons. Any attempt at a rescue being thus effectually guarded against,
the packet proceeded, with her prize, to the port of her destination,
which fortunately for the former was not far distant.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN W. ROGERS]
This achievement reflected the highest honour upon every officer, man,
and boy that was on board the _Windsor Castle_, but especially on
Captain Rogers. Had he stayed to calculate the chances that were
against him, the probability is that the privateer would have
ultimately succeeded in capturing the packet, whose light carronades
could have offered very little resistance at the usual distance at
which vessels engage; and where any small crew, without such a _coup
de main_--indeed, without such a leader--could never have brought the
combat to a favourable issue.
For his intrepid conduct Rogers received the thanks of H.M.
Postmaster-General; promotion to the rank of captain, with command of
another packet, 100 guineas besides his share of the prize (although
no prize allowance was usual); the freedom of the City of London; and
an illuminated address, with a sword of honour, from the inhabitants
of Tortola.
In London, a gentleman named Dixon, unacquainted with Rogers, sought
and obtained his friendship, and then commissioned Samuel Drummond to
make a picture of the action, in which the hero's full-length portrait
should appear. Whilst the painting was in progress, one day Rogers ran
up against a man in the street so closely resembling the officer he
had shot, that he held him by the button and begged as a favour that
he would allow a distinguished artist to paint his portrait. The
gentleman was not a little surprised, but when Rogers informed him who
he was and why he desired to have him painted, he readily consented.
He was conducted to the studio, and there stood as portrait-model for
the French swordsman by whom Rogers had been so nearly cut down. When
completed, the painting was retained by Mr. Dixon, but it was engraved
in mezzotint by Ward.
The painting in course of time passed to the first owner's grandson,
Mr. James Dixon, whose daughter at his decease in 1896 became
possessed of it, and presented it to the nation, and it is now in the
Painted Hall at Greenwich Hospital.
Captain Rogers died at Holyhead January 11, 1825. His and his wife's
portraits were preserved by her relatives, and eventually given to the
only surviving daughter or her descendants.
In Johns and Nicolas's _Calendar of Victory_, 1855, is an account of
this sea-fight; also in the _European Magazine_ of 1808, with a
portrait of the gallant captain. Also in James's _Naval History of
Great Britain_ (1820), Vol. IV.
Rogers's own account, condensed, is to be found in a paper by Rev. W.
Jago, "The Heroes of the Old Falmouth Packet Service," in the _Journal
of the Royal Institution of Cornwall_, XIII, 1895-8.
JOHN BURTON, OF FALMOUTH
Joseph Burton, of Stockport, Lancashire, came, for what reason is
unknown, to Cornwall in 1830, and set up a china and glass shop at
Bodmin; and married at Launceston a Miss Clemo.
Old Joseph was a sturdy Radical and Nonconformist. He was a vigorous
and loud supporter of the Ballot Society, the Liberation Society, and
the United Kingdom Alliance. He was also a vehement and "intemperate"
teetotaler. He died at Bodmin 19th July, 1876. John was one of a whole
string of children, and as the "cloam" shop did not bring in a large
profit, and John was one among many, he had to go into life very
inefficiently equipped with education. But he had inherited from his
father a masterful spirit, and had his own independent views, and it
was soon a case between them of flint and steel, and sparks flew out.
John and his brother Joe were sent round the country hawking pots and
glass.
"I well remember the 24th December, 1853," said John Burton. "Myself and
brother Joe (who afterwards became a well-known auctioneer) rose at five
o'clock in the morning, fed the horse, and made a start at 5.45 a.m.
with a wagon-load of goods. The morning was dark, and when we came to
Callywith turnpike gate it was closed. We knocked Henry Mark, the
toll-keeper, up to let us through. He looked out of the window and at
first refused to let us pass until daylight. We firmly told him that we
would certainly unhang the gate and pass through without paying the
toll. This fetched the old man down, with his long coat, knitted
night-cap, with horn lantern in his hand. He opened the gate and told
us, 'You Burtons ought to be poisoned for breaking a man's rest.' A lot
we cared for his curses. Fairly on the road, we were as happy as
sandboys. Having delivered the goods, and fairly on the way home, we
stopped at the Jamaica Inn, where the old mail-coaches used to change
their horses, to feed our horse, not forgetting ourselves. After giving
old Dapper his feed of oats, we went into the inn kitchen, where we
ordered a hot meal. The landlady asked, 'What would you like?' She
suggested a hot squab pie, which she took out of a huge kitchen range
well loaded with burning turf, the odour of which increased our appetite
considerably. We polished off the pie and pocketed the crust to eat on
the moors when homeward bound."
The Jamaica Inn is in the midst of the Bodmin Moors. In the time of the
mail-coaches from London by Exeter to Falmouth it was a house of great
repute. But when the trains ran, and coaches were given up, it fell from
its high estate, was converted into a temperance house, was far from
clean, harboured innumerable fleas, and did little business. Of late it
has entirely recovered its credit. It stands nine hundred feet above the
sea. There are now there at Bolventor a church and a school. A bleak,
wind-swept moor all about it. Dozmare Pool, haunted by Tregeagle, is
near by--and in June the meadows around are a sheet of gold from the
buttercups. But to return to John Burton's reminiscences.
"When the landlady came in and saw that we had finished the pie, she
looked with amazement towards us.
"'Why, drat you boys, whativer have 'ee done with the pie?'
[Illustration: JOHN BURTON OF FALMOUTH]
"'Why, ate'n, missus. Do'y think us called the horse in to help us, or
what?'
"'No,' she smartly replied, 'I should 'a thawt you had the Bodmunt
Murlicha (Militia) here to help 'ee out. I never seed such gluttons in
my life.'
"When we asked what we had got to pay, she said, 'Sixpunce for the
crist, threepunce for the suitt, ninepunce for the gibblets, and
eightpunce for apples, onions, spice, currants and sugar, and
fourpunce for baking 'un; two dishes of tay, tuppunce; that'll be two
and eightpunce altogether, boys.'
"'All right, missus, here's the posh.'
"She asked us out of bravado if we could eat any more. We said, 'Yes,
we could do with some Christmas cake.'
"She politely told us that she shouldn't cut the Christmas cake until
the next day. 'But you can have some zeedy biscays, if you like.'
"'All right.' And in she brought them, which we also polished off.
Afterwards she demanded fourpence for them.
"'All right, missus, the fourpunce charged for baking the pie will pay
for the biscuits, so us'll cry quits,' which joke the old woman
swallowed with a good laugh."
John Burton proceeds to describe the Christmas merry-making at the inn
that night. Jamaica Inn had not then become a temperance hotel. The
moormen and farmers came in, the great fire glowed like a furnace. The
wind sobbed without, and piped in at the casement--"the souls on the
wind," as it was said, the spirits of unbaptized babes wailing at the
windowpane, seeing the fire within, and condemned to wander on the
cold blast without.
To the red fire, and to the plentiful libations, songs were sung,
among others that very favourite ballad of the "Highwayman"--
I went to London both blythe and gay,
My time I squandered in dice and play,
Until my funds they fell full low,
And on the highway I was forced to go.
Then after an account of how he robbed Lord Mansfield and Lady
Golding, of Portman Square--
I shut the door, bade all good night,
And rambled to my heart's delight.
After a career of riot and robbery, the Highwayman at length falls
into the toils of Sir John Fielding, who was the first magistrate to
take sharp and decisive measures against these pests of society. Then
the ballad ends:--
When I am dead, borne to my grave,
A gallant funeral may I have;
Six highwaymen to carry me,
With good broadswords and sweet liberty.
Six blooming maidens to bear my pall;
Give them white gloves and pink ribbons all;
And when I'm dead they'll say the truth,
I was a wild and a wicked youth.
One of the local characters who was present on that Christmas Eve was
Billy Peppermint. As he was overcome with drink, the young Burtons
conveyed him from the Jamaica Inn about ten miles, and then turned him
out of their conveyance, and propped him up against the railings of a
house in Bodmin, as he was quite unable to sustain himself.
That night the carol singers were making their round, and as they came
near they piped forth: "When shepherds watched their flocks by night,
all seated on the ground, an angel of the Lord appeared, and----"
Whereon Billy roared forth--
When I am dead they'll say the truth,
I was a wild and a wicked youth,
and rolled over and fell prostrate on the ground.
In 1857 an event occurred which altered the direction of John Burton's
activities.
He had been sent along with one of his father's hawkers named Paul
Mewton with a crate of china on his head to S. Columb. On their way they
called at Porth, and there Paul complained that he was not well,
whereupon a Mr. Stephens, with whom they were doing business, produced a
case of spirits and gave first Paul and then John Burton each a glass of
very strong grog. Paul could stand it, but not so John, and as he was
carrying his basket of "cloam" over a stile he lost his balance, and
away went the crate and all its contents, which were shivered to atoms.
This was too much for Mr. Joseph Burton, a rigid teetotaler, and he
had words with his son on the immorality of touching fermented liquor,
and above all on the consequences of a loss of many shillings' worth
of china.
The stile is still to be seen. On one side is inscribed, "Burton's
Stile, 1857"; on the other is a carving of a gin-bottle, a water-jug,
and a glass, with the legend beneath, "The Fall of Man."
This was the beginning of a series of altercations between John and
his father, which led at last to John abandoning his parent, and in
1862 he set up in Falmouth on his own account with thirty shillings in
his pocket. As Burton was wont to say of the world into which he had
entered on his own account--
'Tis a very good world for to live in,
To lend, or to spend, or to give in;
But to beg or to borrow, or get a man's own,
'Tis the very worst world that ever was known.
For some time he earned a living by hawking crockery about in
Falmouth. Then, some sailors coming into the harbour brought with them
some alligators. Burton spent his money on buying them, and then
started out in quest of various herbalists, and disposed of the
reptiles to them. A stuffed alligator hanging up in a shop was an
object imposing on the imagination of patients.
In 1865 a number of Roman coins were found at Pennance Farm, in S.
Budock, and Burton bought these, and then became an antiquary. At this
time numerous vessels put in at Falmouth, and the sailors had brought
with them parrots, apes, and all sorts of curiosities from foreign
parts, and were prepared to sell them for very small sums. Burton bought
as far as his profits would allow, and thus he became a curiosity
dealer. He secured business premises in Market Street, and began to
store them with odds and ends of every description. He rambled about in
Cornwall, and his keen eye detected at once a bit of old china, a scrap
of carved oak, an odd signboard, a piece of Chippendale furniture, a
framed sampler, and he bought everywhere, and stocked his premises. As
his business grew he advertised extensively, and gradually but surely
built up an extensive business. In curiosities he became a very
Whiteley. Any one who desired anything peculiar could apply to John
Burton, and John Burton would supply it, if not a genuine antique, yet
"made to order," and indistinguishable from an antique. When there began
to be a run on Bristol lustre ware, he was ready with a stock, which
went off rapidly. He bought old muskets by the thousand, and sent them
abroad to arm savage nations in Africa and Asia.
One day a Scotchman entered his shop and said to Burton, "I am
looking out for a man who can sell me three sixpences for a shilling."
"Then I am the man for you," said Burton, and produced three defective
sixpences.
"I'll have another shilling's worth," said the Scotchman.
"Ah! then I cannot accommodate you; but I can do better--give you a
bad shilling for a good one."
On one occasion the curator of the Edinburgh Museum wrote down to him
for the eleventh vertebra of the skeleton of a whale that he had, but
which was wanting. By return of post Burton sent him up what he needed.
He had a marvellous memory--remembering all the multifarious items in
his shop, though they were continually changing.
When the new Eddystone Lighthouse was erected, he wrote to Trinity
House and offered £500 for Smeaton's lighthouse that had been taken
down. This roused a storm of indignation in Plymouth, and ended in
that town securing it for £1600, to be erected on the Hoe.
The town of Penryn possessed its old stocks, bearing date 1673. These
he bought for £2, and sold them to a Devizes antiquary for a large
sum. Then he purchased a haunted house--Trevethan Hall, in
Falmouth--but as the ghost could not be turned into money, he pulled
the house down and built on its site Mount Edgcumbe Terrace.
During many years a stream of tourists, walking, bicycling, motoring,
has circulated round Cornwall, starting from Bideford, careering to the
Land's End, and returning by the south coast to Plymouth, and hardly a
tourist thought of visiting Falmouth without going to Burton's Curiosity
Shop and making a purchase there. Indeed, he and his shop were some of
the sights of Cornwall. He had by nature great ready wit, and a
bluntness of manner which he cultivated, and which gave poignancy to
dealings with him. But his bluntness, which was part of the
stock-in-trade, was not infrequently carried too far, and became
impertinence. He had a real love for his genuine curios, and parted with
them reluctantly; and this he allowed to be seen. In this he was wholly
unlike the ordinary dealer who presses his wares on the hesitating
purchaser. When the present King, then Prince of Wales, visited Falmouth
in 1887, the Prince having a cold sent Mr. Cavendish Bentinck to the
Curiosity Shop to request that Mr. Burton would send a collection of
what was most interesting in his shop for the Prince's inspection. Upon
this he addressed the following letter to the Prince:--
"RESPECTED ALBERT EDWARD.--I much regret to find you are
indisposed. If I were to fetch to Kerrisvean a Pickford's
wagon-load of samples it would be utterly impossible to convey the
remotest idea of my ponderous conglomeration of curios; but if I
could prevail upon Your Royal Highness to go through my shanty, I
would give you local wit and humour which would throw you into a
state of laughter, and there is every probability it would
counteract your cold.--Yours until we meet in the next hotel,
"JOHN BURTON."
This, which he doubtless thought very smart, was mere insolence. In
fact, he had not a large store of "local wit and humour," and mistook
rudeness for fun. But he was often encouraged in this. A lady once
entered his shop and said, "You've a rum lot of stuff here, old boy;
how much do you ask for that pair of vases?"
"Six guineas."
"I'll give you five, old fellow."
"Then, old girl, they are yours. Where shall I send them, and to whom?"
"To the Duchess of ----."
"Oh! I beg Your Grace's pardon; I have been too familiar."
"Not at all. You treated me as I have treated you."
John Burton was an abstemious man, and believed that by moderate diet
and moderation in drinking he would--and any man would--live to the
age of a hundred. He had framed for himself a code of rules to ensure
a long life.
1. Eight hours' sleep and that on your right side, and sleep with the
bedroom window open. Fresh air is essential.
2. Do not have your bedstead against the wall, so that the air may
circulate about you freely.
3. Take a glass of hot water on rising, and a bath at blood
temperature, and take exercise before breakfast.
4. Eat little meat and see that it be well cooked, and be careful to
eat plenty of fat.
5. Take plenty of daily exercise in the open air.
6. Have no pet animals in your living-room.
7. Avoid tea--the tannin turns meat to leather and spoils digestion,
but take little or no intoxicant.
8. Keep guard against man's three enemies, the three D's--Damp,
Drains, and impure Drinking water.
9. Change of occupation, and frequent, if short, holidays.
10. Eat plenty of fruit and vegetables.
11. Keep your temper, and keep a cheery mind.
12. Limit your ambition to what you can do.
But, notwithstanding these rules, John Burton did not live to a great
age. He died of a painful internal disease on May 28th, 1907. He had
eight children by his wife. One son, John, has a large earthenware
establishment in Falmouth; another--the image of his father in
face--carries on the "Old Curiosity Shop."
THE FATE OF SIR CLOUDESLEY
SHOVEL
The life of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, Knt. and Admiral, must be given in
few words, as his association with Cornwall was in his death and not
in his birth and life.
He was born about the year 1650, of parents in Norfolk in a humble
condition of life, and he was made a cobbler's apprentice, but,
disliking this profession, ran away to sea. He was at first a
cabin-boy with Sir Christopher Mynns; but, applying himself to the
study of navigation with indefatigable industry, his skill as a seaman
soon raised him above that station. The corsairs of Tripoli had for
long committed great depredations on the English in the Mediterranean,
plundering and capturing merchant vessels and carrying off the crews
into slavery. Sir John Narborough was sent in 1674 to reduce them to
reason. As he had received orders to try the effects of negotiation
before he proceeded to hostilities, he sent Mr. Shovel, who was at
that time a lieutenant in his fleet, to demand satisfaction. The Dey
treated him with disrespect, and sent him back without an answer. Sir
John despatched him a second time, with orders to observe the position
of the piratical fleet in the harbour. The behaviour of the Dey was as
insolent as possible. Upon Mr. Shovel's return he informed Sir John
that it would be possible, notwithstanding the batteries commanding
the harbour, to cut out or burn the ships therein, and he volunteered
to command an expedition in boats for the purpose. His offer was
accepted, and he managed to burn in the harbour, under the castle and
walls of Tripoli, the guard-ship and four men-of-war belonging to the
pirates of that place, and to force the Dey to accept such conditions
of peace as Sir John Narborough was pleased to impose on him.
Sir John Narborough gave so favourable an account of this exploit,
that Shovel was soon after made captain of the _Sapphire_, a
fifth-rate ship.
In the skirmish of Bantry Bay, 1689, he was engaged, and won such scanty
laurels as the unworthy Admiral Herbert allowed his fleet to deserve.
James II had his Court in Dublin. A French fleet, commanded by the Count
de Château-Renaud, had anchored in Bantry Bay, and had put on shore a
large quantity of military stores and money. Herbert, who had been sent
to those seas with an English squadron for the express purpose of
intercepting the communications between France and Ireland, sailed into
the bay with purpose of giving battle. But the wind was unfavourable,
and Herbert was without dash and energy, and was a traitor at heart.
After some trifling discharge of gunpowder, which caused no serious loss
of life on either side, he deemed it prudent to stand out to sea, and
allow the French fleet to retire unmolested.