(DAME THOMASINE PERCIVAL, LADY MAYORESS OF LONDON.)

THOMASINE BONAVENTURA.

'A violet by a mossy stone,
Half-hidden from the eye.'
Wordsworth.

In the Churchwardens' Accounts for the parish of St. Mary Woolnoth, in the City of London, are the following entries, the first of which (and one of the earliest in the book) makes mention of a Sir John Percyvall, who had a chantry in that church. He was Sheriff in 1486, and Lord Mayor in 1498; received the honour of knighthood from Henry VII., and died circa 1504.

The second, dated 1539, runs as follows: 'It'm receyved of the Maister and Wardens of the Merchynt Taillors for the beme light of this Churche according to the devise of Dame Thomasyn Percyvall, widow, late wyf of Sir John Percyvall, knight, decessed, xxvj^s viii^d.'

A third runs: 'It'm receyved more of the Maister and Wardens of the Merchant-taillours for ij tapers, th'oon of xv lb. and the other of v lb. to burne about the sepulchure in this Chirch at Ester Sunday, and for the Churchwardens labor of this Churche to gyve attendance at the obit of S^r John Percyvall and of his wyfe according to the devyse of the said Dame Thomasyn Percyvall his wyf iiij^l, vi^s iiij^d.'

And the last: 'It'm receyved of the said Maister and Wardenns of Merchant-taillours for the reparacions of the ornaments of this Chirche according to the will of the said S^r John Percyvall vj^s.'

Herbert, in his 'History of the Livery Companies of London,' gives the following particulars of the estates out of the proceeds of which the above funds were paid, viz.: 'So far as S^r John was concerned, the annual sum of 16s. 4d. and £13 6s. 8d., issuing from certain messuages of the Company; and (as regards Dame Thomazine) the sums of 53s. 4d., 21s. 4d., and 13s. 10d., and 20s. yearly, all of the premises being situate in the parishes of St. Mary Wolnoth, St. Michael Cornhill, St. Martin Vintry, and St. Dionysius (or Denis) Back-Church, in Fenchurch Street.' He also gives an account of the manner in which the said funds were disposed of: as, good round sums to priests 'for singing for Sir John;' to priests and clerks for ringing of bells at the obits; for wax to burn on those occasions; sundry sums for the poor, etc.; for the 'conduct for keeping the anthem;' and, amongst other disbursements, ten shillings 'for a potation to the neighbours at the said obit.'

The charities left by this benevolent couple are also set out at p. 502 of the same work.

And lastly, the Stratton Churchwardens' Accounts for 1513, show that on the day on which 'my lady parcyvale's meneday' came round (i.e. the day on which her death was to be had in mind), prayer was to be made for the repose of her soul, and two shillings and twopence paid to two priests, and for bread and ale.

This, I believe, is nearly all that exists in the shape of documentary evidence to bear record of the existence of the Cornish girl who forms the subject of this notice. There are, however, still to be seen in the remote and quiet little village of Week St. Mary, some five or six miles south of Bude, in the northern corner of Cornwall, the substantial remains of the good Thomasine's College and Chantry, which she founded for the instruction of the youth of her native place.

The buildings lie about a hundred yards east of the church (from the summit of whose grotesquely ornamented tower six-and-twenty parish churches may be discerned); and, built into the modern wall of a cottage which stands inside the battlemented enclosure, is a large, carved granite stone (evidently one of two which once formed the tympanum of a doorway) on which the letter T stands out in bold relief. Probably it is the initial of the Christian name of our Thomasine; at any rate it is pleasant to think it may be such.

The traditions, however, concerning her are not only still numerous in the neighbourhood, but are as implicitly believed as if they were recorded by the most unimpeachable of chroniclers. They have been embodied, not without considerable imaginative embellishment, by the late Rev. R. S. Hawker of Morwenstow, in a pleasant chapter in his charming 'Footprints of Men of Former Times in Cornwall,' and they are somewhat as follows:

Thomasine Bonaventura was a poor shepherd maiden, and tended her sheep—'the long-forgotten Cornish knott'[67]—on the wild moorlands of North Cornwall, in days when more attention was paid than in later times to the produce of the flocks, and less was devoted, at least in this part of the county, to the mineral resources which lie hid in its bosom. Even the wealthy merchants of London came down so far into the west country to buy wool; and it was probably about the middle of the fifteenth century when one 'Richard Bunsby,' a citizen of the metropolis, made his appearance on the scene, which opens on the banks of one of the many little moorland streams that run down from Greena Moor in Week St. Mary, sweeping round Marham Church Hill, and so into Bude Haven. Struck with the shepherdess's bright looks and intelligent remarks, he proposed that she should return to London with him, and become a domestic servant in his house; and Thomasine's parents having given their consent to so brilliant a proposal, as it seemed to them, to London she went, and received on her arrival a hearty welcome from her new mistress. In course of time she became a great favourite with all in the house, the manager of its concerns, and, on the death of Dame Bunsby, the old merchant married his Cornish housekeeper, in compliance with the express wish of his late wife. Three years afterwards, Richard Bunsby, too, died, leaving all his property to Thomasine; and thus she became a wealthy widow. Yet did she not forget her husband's memory, to which she caused to be erected (so it is said) a substantial bridge; a structure (or perhaps I should say its modern representative), which may still be seen, as it was by myself in the autumn of 1880, at Week Ford.

One so 'sweet and serviceable,' and withal so rich, was not long, we may be sure, without suitors; and so, after a while, we find Thomasine again married; this time to 'that worshipful merchant adventurer, Master John Gall, of St. Lawrence, Milk Street.' He, too, was wealthy and uxorious; and enabled his wife to confer many benefits on the poor of her native place, for which she seems to have always entertained a lingering fondness—a trait as characteristic of the Cornish as of the Swiss themselves. After the lapse, however, of five years, Thomasine found herself once more alone in the world; and again her husband had left her all his property.

She had not to wait long before many fresh lovers were at the feet of the 'Golden Widow;' and on this occasion, in the year 1497, she bestowed her hand upon Sir John Percyvall, who was, the year after their marriage, elected to the honourable post of Lord Mayor of London. In memory of this event, she is reported to have constructed a good new road down to the coast, which I am bound to say I have not succeeded in identifying,—though it may be that which runs from Week St. Mary, over Week Ford and through Poundstock, to either Wansum or Melhuc Mouth.

She long survived even her third husband; and retiring, as it is believed, to Week St. Mary, by her will, made in 1510, left goodly sums of money to the home of her childhood. She directed that the 'chauntry with cloisters' (to which reference has already been made) should be built there; and that a school should be founded for the children of the poor.[68]

If Mr. Hawker's testimony is to be accepted, she also left, by a codicil to her will, and in memory of an early love affair, to the priest of the church, where she knew her cousin John Dineham would serve and sing, 'the silver chalice gilt, which good Master Maskelyne had devised for her behoof, with a little blue flower which they do call a "forget-me-not," wrought in Turkess at the bottom of the bowl.' But Mr. Hawker's mind was always full of graceful fancies; and he has in this case undoubtedly drawn upon his imagination for his facts.

Carew is a more reliable if less poetic authority. He says: 'And to show that virtue as well bare a part in the desert, as fortune in the means of her preferment, she employed the whole residue of her life and last widowhood to works no less bountiful than charitable; namely, repairing of highways, building of bridges, endowing of maidens, relieving of prisoners, feeding and apparelling the poor, etc. Among the rest, at this St. Mary Wike she founded a chantry and free-school, together with fair lodgings for the schoolmasters, scholars, and officers, and added £20 of yearly revenue for supporting the incident charges: wherein, as the bent of her desire was holy, so God blessed the same with all wished success; for divers of the best gentlemen's sons of Devon and Cornwall were there virtuously trained up, in both kinds of divine and human learning, under one Cholwel, an honest and religious teacher, which caused the neighbours so much the rather, and the more to rue, that a petty smack only of popery opened the gap to the oppression of the whole, by the statute made in Edward VI.'s reign, touching the suppression of chanteries.'