SUGGESTIONS FOR A LIGHTHOUSE ON THE EDDYSTONE—HENRY WINSTANLEY
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 2_d._ 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.
[Illustration: PACK OF PLAYING CARDS DESIGNED 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,—
‘Winstanley’s deed, you kindly folk,
With it I fill my lay;
And a nobler man ne’er walked the world,
Let his name be what it may,’
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.