Baring-Gould Sabine
Cornish Characters and Strange Events
ANN GLANVILLE
Saltash was formerly a very much more important place than it is to-day. Now the tubular bridge of Brunel connects Cornwall and Devon, and railway trains slip along it, making communication with Plymouth from Cornwall easy and speedy. It was not so in former times. Then travellers from the West on their way to Plymouth or to London, if they did not go by coach by the great highway from Falmouth, by Bodmin and Launceston, were brought up by the strip of blue water that formed the estuary of the Tamar and Tavy, called the Hamoaze, and there, after halting at Saltash they were forced to cross in the ferry or by boat. Saltash signifies the Saltwater – ash = usk, and Hamoaze is the Border water, oaze = usk as well.
The Saltash boatmen plied a good trade, conveying over the passengers from Cornwall to Devon. Moreover, houses were cheap at Saltash, and old salts lived there, where they could smell the sea air, and every now and then crossed into Plymouth to do their shopping. From time immemorial there had been boat-races in the Hamoaze, and the women of Saltash were not behind the men at plying the oar.
Mr. Whitfeld in his Three Towns' History says: —
"The Saltash festival was by no means wholly intended for the encouragement of the males, for the 'ladies' feathered their oars with such dexterity that few of the opposite sex would enter the lists against them. Before the races for these damsels of uncertain age were started, blue favours were tied round their white caps by members of the committee. The fair rowers were attired in short white bedgowns and blue cap-guards, and their gigs shot around the course of five miles 'like so many birds.' From a sporting point of view the feature of the first regatta was a life or death competition between Jacky Gould and the Glanvilles. If Jacky's boat, Miller's Daughter, was the crack, Alarm was scarcely inferior, and Paul Pry was a first-class craft. Crash! went the starting-gun, and the competitors dashed away with a flood tide and a breeze from the northward. When they left on their ten-mile course one vast shout went up, the boats flew as instinct with life, every nerve on the stretch. The first five miles were covered in thirty minutes, and as the boats turned the committee vessel there were deafening shouts of 'Bravo, Jacky.' 'Well done, Glanville!' Then these hearts-of-oak flashed on their second round, and excitement intensified as the telescope reported progress. When the boats reappeared the suspense broke into a feverish roar, and calls to the rivals were tossed like corks on a sea of voices. Swiftly they drew near, the boats in a line, the interest increased to painful intensity as the race was neck-and-neck. The judge stood by, red-hot poker in hand, and as the bow of the Alarm, pulled by the Glanvilles, first touched the hawsers of the committee vessel, Bang! went the signal gun; 'See the Conquering Hero' burst from the band, and hundreds clustered round to congratulate the victors, and condole with Jacky Gould, who was only five seconds behind, though the boat was two feet shorter, and one of his crew had broken an oar."
The Glanvilles were amphibious – or rather lived almost wholly on the water during the day, only returning to the land for sleep at night.
The name is old. The first Glanvilles of whom we know anything authentic were located at Whitchurch, near Tavistock, where they were tanners, but a Judge Glanville raised the family to a higher position, in the reign of Elizabeth. Some, however, remained in a modest position, as did these boatmen of Saltash, and as did a huntsman to the late Mr. Kelly, of Kelly.
There occurred a terrible tragedy in the family, when Eulalia Glanville, niece of the Judge, murdered her husband, old John Page, a merchant of Plymouth, and was burnt alive for the crime, as one of petty treason, at Barnstaple, in 1591.
In 1824 at the regatta was offered a prize of £8 for a four-oared race for women, but no Glanville was in that. Ten years later, in 1834, at the regatta £20 was offered for boats sculled by women, and in this pulled a Mary Glanville. But the queen of women scullers of the Glanville stock was Ann, and she only entered it by marriage, by birth a Warring.39 Mr. P. E. B. Porter, in his Around and About Saltash, 1905, thus describes her: —
"Ann Glanville was undoubtedly a remarkable woman for many reasons. Only such a place as Saltash, in such a naval port as this, could have produced a character like it. Only such a country as England could have produced such a woman. She was a genuine representative of Saltash in its great nautical days, when it was alive with business. The British tar was to her the ideal of a man and the very highest type of a hero. Into whatever trouble Jack got when ashore, however he might have been forsaken by all else in his reckless frivolity, he never wanted for a backer if Ann Glanville was near. And there was not a ship in the navy, in those days, that had not some story to tell of Ann's life and energy, and in which her name was not cherished as only a British sailor can cherish the memory of a friend. In a perfectly true sense, Ann Glanville was a mother to the British tar indiscriminately; she was known as Mother, and called Mother, by all."
Ann was born at Saltash in 1796, and was the daughter of a man named Warring or Werring. She married a man several years her junior in years, and by him became the mother of fourteen children. He was a waterman, she a waterwoman, and their children, every boy and girl, water-babies.
He had his boat, and when he was otherwise engaged – nursing the children, for instance, or merry-making in the tavern – she rowed across to Devonport.
Not passengers only, but goods were conveyed to and from Plymouth by the boats. Corn, crockery, drapery, everything except live cattle went in them. These latter by the ferry. Sometimes she rowed out officers to their ships, sometimes conveyed play-actors over from Plymouth into Cornwall, and on the great event of the elections at Saltash, candidates, electors, pot-boilers, political orators. Meat and vegetables went over in these boats to Plymouth market: a gentleman remembers Ann bringing round as many as seventy or eighty bags of corn in her boat from South Pool, pulling the great cargo alone, conveying it from Sutton Pool to Butt's Head Mill, a point two miles above Saltash.
Ann's husband fell ill and was long confined to bed, and the house and then the whole burden of supporting the family fell to her. But she had strong arms and a stouter heart, and managed not only to keep the wolf from the door, but the doctor as well.
"Have you got a doctor here, or have you to send over to Plymouth for one?" she was asked.
"Well, I believe there may be one here, but, thank God, here us most commonly dies a natural death."
Ann's fame as a rower at regattas spread throughout England. Some sixty or seventy years ago the crew of Saltash women was one of the most important features, not only in the Hamoaze, but all over the county wherever aquatic sports were given. She always rowed stroke. It was very rarely that Ann and her crew were beaten in a match – never by other women. The strength and endurance of these women, and their daring in accepting challenges and in the contests on the water, attracted universal attention. They competed for prizes at Hull, Liverpool, Portsmouth, Dartmouth, etc., and it must not be supposed that a male crew yielded the palm to them out of masculine courtesy, for the men did not at all relish being beaten by a "parcel o' females," as they were sure to have the fact thrown in their teeth afterwards.
Mrs. Harriet Screech, a daughter of Ann Glanville, rowed along with her mother in some of these contests, pulling the bow-oar, the least arduous post, assigned to her as the youngest of the crew. When engaged in a match at Fleetwood before the Queen, they gave the men so sound a beating that Her Majesty requested to have Ann presented to her.
But the most famous event of her life took place in 1850, when Captain Russell, of H.M.S. Brunswick, suggested to her that she and her crew should go over to Havre to the regatta there and challenge the Johnny Crapauds. She was quite prepared, and started under the escort of Captain Russell.
When the Frenchmen heard of the challenge from les Anglaises de Saltashe, they shrugged their shoulders, and hardly regarded it as serious. And when the strong, muscular women appeared in their white-frilled caps prinked out with blue ribbon, their short petticoats, white dresses, with a blue neckerchief tied over the shoulders and crossed behind the back, they looked puzzled.
Mr. Porter says: "The challenge of the English captain created a stir not only in Havre, but for miles around the French coast, and for many leagues inland too. In England great interest was felt in the forthcoming match, and in a short time it assumed a kind of international character. Thus when the regatta day came there was a vast concourse of people to witness the contest. Every quay, hill-top, and house-roof whence a view of the course could be obtained was crowded. All were on the tiptoe of expectation for les Anglaises… Before the start the Saltash crew had a pull round 'to show themselves,' and when their steady stroke was seen, how they bent their backs to the work, yet with what perfect ease and grace they pulled, our French friends opened their eyes wider than usual. Ann and her crew had not the fairest start possible, nor had they the advantage at first. Six boats were ahead of them five minutes after the start. But they soon tested their opponents. After a little opening play to get into trim, Ann, who had the stroke oar, gave the word, 'Bend your backs to it, maidens; and hoorah for old England!' One by one the French boats were passed with a cheer from old Ann. At length the Saltash boat, with the British colours flying gaily at the fore, took the leading position. It was a long course and a hard pull, but the Frenchmen were soundly thrashed. Ann and her 'maidens' beat them by one hundred yards."
However gallant Frenchmen may be, they did not at all relish this beating.
The names of the crew were Ann Glanville, Harriet Hosking, Jane House, and Amelia Lee. A man acted as coxswain.
Mrs. House was so elated at the victory that on reaching the committee boat she plunged into the water, dived under the vessel, and came up with dripping and drooping nightcap on the opposite side.
When the Prince of Wales, our present King, and the Duke of Edinburgh came into Plymouth Sound in connection with the building of the new Eddystone Lighthouse, Ann was sent for. A steam launch was despatched to convey her to the vessel, where were their Highnesses, and she dined on board. Lord Charles Beresford always entertained a high regard for her, and never came to Plymouth without visiting her. During her last illness she had his likeness placed on one side of her bed, and that of her deceased husband on the other.
She died in 1880 at the age of eighty-five. In person Ann Glanville was tall, firmly and vigorously built, not stout, straight about the bust and waist. When young she must have been good-looking, for when old her face was handsome and always possessed great dignity. The mouth was firm. There was a kindly light in her grey eyes. She was always fond of a joke, and her character was summed up by a neighbour: "Her was honest to a farthing, clean as a smelt, and kind-hearted as a queen."
JONATHAN SIMPSON, HIGHWAYMAN
This great rascal was born at Launceston in 1654 of respectable parents, and his father, who was well-off, apprenticed him to a linen draper at Bristol when he was fourteen years of age. When he had served out his time, which he did with the repute of being a steady, industrious youth, his father gave him fifteen hundred pounds wherewith to set up in Bristol. About a year after he unhappily married a woman who was the cause of his downfall and finally of his death. She had two thousand pounds of her own, and this added to what he already possessed promised him a considerable extension of his business with corresponding profits.
But the girl he had chosen for his wife had previously engaged herself to a young man of small means, and her parents had forced her into marriage with Simpson as being better off and with good prospects. She resented her compulsory marriage, and did not disguise her indifference to her husband. Although her former lover, in a fit of disgust at his rejection, had also married, Simpson ascertained that they corresponded.
Determined to find out the truth, that she still loved the man, he announced to his wife that he was going to Launceston for ten or twelve days to see his relations. As soon as he was gone his wife sent to invite her galant to supper, and provided for his entertainment a couple of fowls and a bottle of wine. Either the fowls must have been very small, or their appetites voracious.
In the evening Jonathan Simpson returned, entered his house, and rushed to the dining-room. His wife had but just time to shut her galant into the oak chest; but not before Simpson had seen by the movement of the lid that he was there. However, he gave no token of having perceived anything, expressed his delight at so good a supper having been prepared, and despatched his wife to the further end of the town on an errand. No sooner was she gone than he sent for the wife of "Pil-Garlic," and on her arrival disclosed the man in the box, and enjoyed the scene of recrimination that ensued.
The vexation at the discovery he had made that he could expect no domestic happiness created a great change in Jonathan Simpson's life. He sold his business, refused to receive his wife back into his house again, and with all the money he could scrape together that amounted to five thousand pounds, quitted Bristol, and swore he would never re-enter it.
He now led a riotous life, spending his money so freely that at the end of eighteen months all his five thousand pounds was gone, and then he took to the road to supply himself with more. After a while he was arrested for highway robbery, and was sent to the Old Bailey, tried, and condemned to be hanged.
His relatives at Launceston now exerted themselves to obtain a reprieve, and by bribery and persuasion they got one, but only at the last moment. Simpson was already under the gallows, with the rope round his neck, when it arrived, and the execution was arrested.
As he was riding back to Newgate behind one of the sheriff's officers that man asked him what he thought of a reprieve as he stood on the scaffold. "No more," answered Simpson, "than I thought of my dying day."
On reaching the prison door the turnkey refused to admit him, declaring that he could not take him in again without a fresh warrant; and as this could not well be obtained, the sheriff's officer was obliged to let him go free.
"Well," said Simpson, "what an unhappy dog am I! that both Tyburn and Newgate should in one day refuse to entertain me. I'll mend my manners for the future, and try whether I cannot merit a reception at them both the next time I am brought thither."
He was as good as his word, and after his release is believed to have committed above forty robberies in the county of Middlesex within the ensuing six weeks.
He was a good skater, and made a practice of robbing people on the ice between Fulham and Kingston Bridge, in the great frost of 1689, which held for thirteen weeks. He would kick up their heels, and search their pockets as they lay sprawling on the ice.
On one occasion a gentleman whom he stopped gave him a silk purse full of counters, which Simpson took for gold, and so did not examine them till he reached the inn where he put up. When he found that he had been outwitted he quietly pocketed the brass booty, and abided his time till he should meet the same gentleman again. This he did at the end of four months, when he waylaid him on Bagshot Heath, where, riding up to the coach, he said, as he presented a pistol at the gentleman's head, "Sir, I believe you made a mistake the last time I had the happiness to see you, in giving me these pieces. I have been troubled ever since for fear you should have wanted these counters at cards, and am glad of this opportunity to return them. But for my care I require you this moment to descend from your coach and give me your breeches, that I may search them at leisure, and not trust any more to your generosity, lest you should mistake again."
The gentleman was obliged to comply, and Simpson carried off the breeches with him to his inn, and on searching them found a gold watch, a gold snuff-box, and a purse containing ninety-eight guineas and five gold jacobuses.
On another occasion he robbed Lord Delamere in an ingenious fashion. That nobleman was driving over Dumoor Heath in his coach well attended by armed servants. Simpson rode up to the carriage and told his lordship that he had been waylaid and robbed by some rogues, two in number, at a little distance. Lord Delamere at once despatched his armed and mounted escort in pursuit, and Simpson took the opportunity of their absence to rob the nobleman of forty pounds. After that experience Lord Delamere vowed he would never again show kindness to a stranger.
At last Simpson was taken near Acton by means of two captains of the Foot Guards, where he attempted to rob both together. There ensued an obstinate fight between them, and Simpson behaved with so much bravery that in all probability he would have escaped, had not one of the officers shot the horse on which he rode, which, falling, carried Jonathan down with it. He had already been wounded in his arms and one of his legs, but both his opponents were also wounded and bleeding. Whilst on the ground he continued to resist with desperation whilst extricating himself from his fallen horse; but the sound of the fray had called up other passengers, and he was overmastered and sent to Newgate, where he found the keeper so much of a friend that on this occasion he was ready to receive him. Tyburn also was sufficiently hospitable not to reject him, and he was hanged on Wednesday, 8th September, 1686, in his thirty-third year.
DAVIES GILBERT
The simple and quiet life of a country gentleman who does not hunt, but spends his days in the library among books, or at his desk making calculations, presents little of interest to the general reader. But Davies Gilbert is not a man to be passed over in a collection of minor worthies of Cornwall.
Mr. Gilbert's original name was Giddy, and he was the grandson of a Mr. John Giddy, of Truro, who had two sons, Edward and Thomas; the former took Holy Orders, and became curate of S. Erth, and never obtained any better preferment. Here he married Catherine, daughter of John Davis, of Tredrea, the representative of several ancient families, and inheriting what fragments were left of the property of William Noye, Attorney-General in the reign of Charles I.
At S. Erth was born, 6 March, 1767, Davies Giddy, the subject of this sketch. After having been
The whining schoolboy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school,
at Penzance, he passed to Oxford, and entered Pembroke College, his father going up to Oxford to reside with him. Dr. Johnson, who was also of Pembroke, once said, in allusion to the poetical characters brought up there, that it was a veritable nest of singing-birds. Davies Giddy was not a singer or a poet himself, but taught others to sing, for he collected and published the traditional Cornish carols with their melodies, now taken into every book of Christmas carols and sung at the feast of Noël from John o' Groats House to the Land's End, in America, India, and Australia. Probably this little gathering was one of the works Davies Giddy, or Gilbert, least valued of his many productions, but it has been the most enduring, and will be deathless so long as English voices carol.
Contemporary with Davies Giddy, but of older standing in the college, was that strange man Dr. Thomas Beddoes, lecturer on chemistry, whose head was turned by fanatical republicanism, and who was an enthusiastic admirer of the French Revolution, and prepared to condone the horrors of the Reign of Terror. This was too much for most of Beddoes' friends, who fell away from him, but Davies Giddy, though in politics standing at the other pole, appreciated the great abilities of the doctor, shrugged his shoulders at his political opinions, and refrained from absolutely breaking off all intercourse with him, even when Beddoes was obliged to resign the professorship he held at the University.
Beddoes, on leaving Oxford, set up a pneumatic institution at Clifton, near Bristol, for the cure of consumption, by pumping air into the lungs of those afflicted with phthisis. This was a great discovery, which was to sweep this scourge out of England. The pneumatic bellows worked night and day, and the patients gasped, inhaled and spurted the air back through their nostrils, till the arms of the bellows-workers ached, but, alas for suffering mankind, the pneumatic process proved a dead failure.
Davies Giddy after leaving Oxford went to a surgeon, Bingham Borlase, at Penzance, to prepare for the medical profession, intending after a stay with Borlase to complete his education at the Medical School of Edinburgh. With Dr. Borlase was a lad, Humphry Davy, who had been articled to him in 1793, when little more than fourteen years old. He was a youth of active frame, and with a bright, intelligent face, with wavy brown hair, and eyes "tremulous with light." Not only was Davy a keen fisherman, but he was enthusiastic as a chemist; but he had no particular desire to spend his life as a Sangrado in Penzance. Davies Giddy speedily recognized the flashes of genius in the lad, and recommended him to go to the pump-house of Dr. Beddoes as an assistant at a modest salary. As Beddoes experimented with various gases on his unfortunate patients there was at all events an element of novelty in the venture. Mr. Giddy abandoned his intention of entering the medical profession, and, having a sufficient income to support himself, he devoted his whole time to scientific work, and became well known as a geologist and botanist, and he associated with all the literary and scientific men of his native duchy.
The introduction of Watt's improvement in the steam-engine into the Cornish mines and the disputes between that great mechanical inventor and Jonathan Hornblower, of Penryn, as to the economy and mode of applying the principle of working steam expansively, early attracted the attention of Davies Giddy, and Hornblower had frequent recourse to him, as a mathematician, to work out his calculations for him, and to advise as to his experiments, and approve or criticize his inventions. Trevithick also had recourse constantly for the same purpose to Mr. Giddy, and the latter was solicited by the county to take an active part in determining the advantages of Watt's engines; and in conjunction with Captain W. Jenkin, of Treworgie, he made a survey of all the steam-engines then working in Cornwall.
One of the most laborious and practically useful works of Giddy was a treatise on the properties of the Catenary Curve. This fine example of mathematical investigation was published whilst Telford was preparing materials for the Menai Straits Bridge; and Telford was so convinced by Mr. Giddy's tract, that he altered the construction of the bridge in accordance with what Giddy had laid down, causing the suspension chains, which had already been completed, to be again taken in hand and lengthened by about thirty-six feet.
In 1804 Giddy was elected into Parliament as representative of that rotten borough Helston, but at the next election, in 1806, he was returned for Bodmin, and continued its member till the Reform Bill abolished these nests of corruption. In Parliament he was rarely heard to speak, but his judgment was always valued there, and had great influence on questions of a practical nature.
In 1811, when the high price of gold produced an ominous effect on the currency of the realm, and when the public mind became greatly agitated by the depreciation of bank notes, Davies Giddy published A Plain Statement of the Bullion Question, with the object of allaying the public ferment. Against great opposition he carried an extra twelve feet in width to the design for rebuilding London Bridge.
In 1808 he married Mary Ann Gilbert, an heiress, of Eastbourne, in Sussex, whose family name he afterwards assumed, on account of the hereditary estates to which he became entitled through this marriage.
This lady was of a strong, determined character. On one occasion when riding she was thrown, and dislocated her shoulder. Laying hold of her hunting-crop with both hands, she threw herself back and so brought the joint back into its place.
Once she had a dispute with some farmers, who would not continue their farms without a great reduction of rent. "Very well," said she; "then I will farm them myself." And she did so, and made them pay. She was the first in England to introduce the allotment system on a farm of hers at Eastbourne, Sussex. The marriage was due to Mr. Giddy meeting her when she was staying with her mother on a visit to Mr. Fry at Penzance.
She was a handsome woman, with a determined face, and she suited her husband admirably, for she was interested in many of the subjects that he took up. She was an authoress, moreover – she wrote upon "Tanks," "On an Improved Mode of Forming Water Tanks," "On the Construction of Tanks," in 1836, 1838, and 1840. Also "On the Self-supporting Reading, Writing, and Agricultural School at Willingdon, in Sussex," 1842.
On the death of Sir Joseph Banks the unanimous voice of the Royal Society called Sir Humphry Davy to the chair, and at the same time Davies Gilbert – as he now was – was nominated Treasurer under the man whom he had first helped to start in his career. Ill-health having obliged Sir Humphry Davy to quit England in the early part of 1827, Mr. Gilbert occupied the chair as Vice-President, and when finally Sir Humphry retired in the same year he was chosen President.
At that time a President was elected for life, but Davies Gilbert considered this to be unadvisable, and urged that the election should be for a term only; and his recommendation was accepted after a few years, when the presidency was required for the Duke of Sussex; thereupon it was hinted to him that he should act upon his expressed opinion and leave the chair for His Royal Highness. This he did without reluctance.
On his wife's estate in Sussex he introduced the Cornish stiles, of gridiron fashion – strips of stone laid down with an interval between each – and this prevents horses, donkeys, and cattle from adventuring to cross them. But the Sussex people on the Eastbourne estate revolted, and declared that they would not break their legs to please any Cornish Giddy or Sussex Gilbert, and he was constrained to remove them all.
He was a man of a versatile mind. He published, with a translation by J. Keigwin and W. Jordan, the early Cornish mystery plays of Mount Calvary and the Creation of the World.
He also undertook a Parochial History of Cornwall, giving first Hals' account from his MS., now in the British Museum, with additions from Tonkin, and a geological account of each parish by Dr. Boase, of no great value, and his own additions. This was published in five volumes in 1838.
He wrote also on steam-engines, on the employment of sea salt as a manure, on the improvement of wheels and springs for carriages, on the Eikon Basilike. He translated the Liturgy into Greek. Chambers in his Journal, Vol. II, 1844, has an account of the improvements effected on his wife's estate at Eastbourne.
When Lieutenant Goldsmith upset the Logan Rock he got the use of timber and ropes granted for the work of replacing the stone, and had the loan of the same also to replace the coverstone of Lanyon Quoit.
Lord Sidmouth offered him the position of Under-Secretary of State, but he declined the offer.
About a year before his death Davies Gilbert entered in his notebook: "Slept in a house for the first time on my own property." This was a house in East Looe bequeathed to him by Thomas Bond, who had written the History of Looe, and who died unmarried and without near relatives.
Davies Gilbert died at Eastbourne on Christmas Eve, 1839, as the carollers, for whom he had done so much, were going round in the dark under the stars singing —
Noël, Noël, the angel did say,
Unto these poor shepherds in the fields as they lay.
