HEROES BY SEA AND LAND.

THE GRENVILLES OF STOW,

'Tell me, ye skilful men, if ye have read,
In all the faire memorials of the dead,
Of names so formidably great,
So full of wonder and unenvied love;
In which all virtues and all graces strove,
So terrible and yet so sweete?'
From a 'Pindaric Ode' of 1686.

'The four wheels of Charles's wain—
Grenville, Godolphin, Trevanion, Slanning slain.'
Old Cornish Distich.

In his 'Worthies of Devon,' Prince, no doubt willingly enough, offers a compromise with Cornwall as to the ownership of the Grenvilles, and quotes Dugdale and Fuller to the effect that both Cornwall and Devon are so fruitful of illustrious men, that each can spare to the other a hero or two, even if wrongfully deprived of her own; even Carew has a somewhat similar passage, in which he says, 'The merits of this ancient family are so many and so great, that ingrossed they would make one County proud, which, divided, would make two happy.'

But, as it appears to me, Cornwall could not, even if she would, spare the Grenvilles—especially the two most celebrated of them, Sir Richard and Sir Bevill—from her roll of Worthies. True it is that the Grenvilles usually took the sea at Bideford (By-the-ford), for it was their nearest port, though they always kept a keen eye upon the possibility of utilizing Boscastle, Tintagel and other North Cornwall ports; true also that Sir Theobald Grenville (probably with the assistance of a priest named Sir Richard Gornard, or Gurney, and others), who flourished in the reign of Edward III., mainly built the famous great Bideford bridge of twenty-four arches; doubtless, too, they had lands and knights' fees, and a house or houses at Bideford in which they occasionally resided: but the seat of the Grenvilles was, from at least the time of William Rufus, at Stow (which even Prince calls 'their chiefest habitation'[1]), in the parish of Kilkhampton, well within the Cornish border, and separated, on the northern side, from the fair sister county of Devon by the whole of the broad parish of Morwenstow.[2] For five centuries or more their monuments were placed in Kilkhampton Church, on which they bestowed from time to time many benefactions, and of which parish many members of the family were Rectors. Carew says that one of the Grenvilles was parson of Kilkhampton, and that he lived so long as to see himself uncle and great-uncle to more than 300 persons: this was probably John Grenville, temp. Edward IV. Of another Rector of this parish the Rev. C. W. Boase, in his 'Registers of Exeter College,' has recorded that, shortly after the year 1316, Richard Grenfield founded a chest of money for making loans to the poor scholars of that Society. According to Lake's 'Parochial History of Cornwall,' the following Grenvilles were Rectors of Kilkhampton, namely: Richard, son of Sir Bart^w. Grenville, 1312; John Grenville, 1524, who also held Week St. Mary; Dennis Grenville, 10th July, 1661; Chamond Grenville, 1711. The Church Registers, as might be expected, abound in references to the family. Their descent, too, is given in the 'Heralds' Visitations' for Cornwall[3] (p. 217); and Tuckett rightly omits them from his edition of the 'Devonshire Pedigrees' (p. 38, etc.). They commanded the Cornish forces during the Civil War; and, from their earliest settlement in the county, they intermarried with such old Cornish families as Tregomynion, Trewent, Vivian, Roscarrick, Killigrew, Arundell of Lanherne, Basset, St. Aubyn, Bevill, Fortescue, Prideaux, and Tremayne. That keen observer, the late Canon Kingsley, has, moreover, not failed to detect, in the portrait of the great Sir Richard, the thoroughly Cornish type of face; and, finally, they are rightly included in the 'Bibliotheca Cornubiensis.' It is, in view of all these facts, probably unnecessary to dwell any further on the supremacy of Cornwall's claims to the Grenvilles.

But it must be reluctantly confessed that they are, after all, not of strictly Cornish origin; for, though they lived for centuries in the county, they came in, like the Bevills (with whom they intermarried more than once), with the Conqueror; and, as an early form of their name suggests [4] had their first home in Normandy, and were descended from Duke Rollo, and from Hamon Dentatus, Earl of Carboyle (? Corbeil), and Lord of Thorigny and Granville in that country. Their name has been variously spelt Grenville, Greenville, Grenvile, Greenvil, Granville, Grainvilla, Granaville, Greenvil and otherwise—it even occurs in one place as Grinfillde;[5] but it seems likely to be best known in history in the form prefixed to this chapter, and which has been adopted by the Poet Laureate in that stirring 'Ballad of the Fleet,' with which we have all of us lately been delighted, and to which we shall presently have occasion to refer more fully.

Younger branches of the family settled in Bucks and in Somerset, and preserved the favourite old Christian name of Richard, which was also perpetuated in the elder, or Cornish, branch: in fact it has been said that Cornwall was not without a Richard Grenville for 200 consecutive years. Among the earliest of them was one of the twelve knights amongst whom the Conqueror partitioned Wales: he built the monastery in South Wales, now known as Neath Abbey, the ruins of which are a familiar and picturesque object to the traveller by rail to Swansea. In 1653, a Mr. John Nichols, of Hartland, had in his possession 'a prophecy,' written in the year 1400, said to have been found in Neath Abbey, and which was kept in a curious box of jet. It referred to the founder; and ran as follows:

'Amongst the trayne of valliant knights that with King William came,
Grenvile is great, a Norman borne, renowned by his fame,
His helmet rais'd and first unlac'd upon the Cambrian shore,
Where he, in honour to his God, this Abbey did decore
With costly buildings, ornaments, and gave us spatious lands,
As the first fruits which victory did give unto his hands.'

But the materials for the lives of the earlier Grenvilles are too scanty for our present purpose; and—with one exception—we must therefore be content to dismiss them with the passing notice which has already been accorded to the builder of Bideford Bridge; and with a reference to one of the family, William, who died in 1315, a distinguished statesman, and forty-first Archbishop of York. He was at Edward I.'s first Parliament at Carlisle; and, according to some authorities, crowned Edward II.; he also held several important councils at York relative to the dissolution of the Order of the Temple.[6]

'William de Grenefild' (says Carew), 'from the Deanery of Chichester stepped to the Chancellorship of England, and Archbishoprick of York, under King Edward the First. He was the son of Sir Theobald Grenvill, of Stow, and Jane Trewent, and was elected Archbishop of York in 1304, but not confirmed till 1306, at Lions in France, by Pope Clement the Fifth, who then held his Court in that city, subsisting chiefly by the money which he got of the Bishops for their confirmations. Of this Archbishop he squeezed out within one year 9,500 marks, besides his expenses whilst he lay there, which made him so poor that when he returned into England he was driven to gather money of the clergy within his province at two sundry times in one year; the first in the name of a benevolence, and the second by way of an aid. He much favoured the Templars, at that time oppresst by the Pope, and Philip, King of France, though more pitying them, says Fuller, as persons so stiffly opposed by the said Potentates, that there was more fear of his being suppressed by their foes, than hope of their being supported by his friendship. He was present in the Council of Vienna, where that Order was abolished, and his place assigned next to the Archbishop of Triers; which was very high, as only beneath the lowest Elector, and above Wurtzburg, or Herbipolis, and other German prelates, who were also temporal Princes. He died at Cawood (near Leeds, in Yorkshire), 1315, and was buried in the chapel of St. Nicholas [7] (in York Cathedral), leaving the reputation of an able statesman, and no ill scholar, behind him.' Tonkin also, in his notes to the 'De Dunstanville' edition of Carew, states, 'that the Archbishop was the son of Sir Theobald Grenville, of Stow, and Jane Trewent.'

But Dixon, in his 'Fasti Eboracenses,' says, 'that the birthplace and parentage of the Archbishop of York are uncertain—notwithstanding that both Carew and Fuller state that he was a Cornishman. He was undoubtedly, however, connected with several old and distinguished families, notably the Giffards. Now Richard de Grenville, the founder of the Grenville family, married a daughter of Walter Giffard Earl of Bucks, temp. William I.' Dixon speaks highly of the Archbishop's piety and zeal, and says that he was a most excellent and painstaking diocesan. As to the ruby ring removed from the Archbishop's skeleton in 1735, and deposited in the Treasury, Grotius says:

'Annule, qui thecam poteras habuisse sepulchrum
Hæc, natalis erit nunc tibi, theca, locus.'

In Carew's 'Survey of Cornwall' (pp. 111, 112), under Trematon Castle, is the following reference to Sir Richard Grenville, Sheriff of Devon and Marshal of Calais [8] (grandsire of the more celebrated Grenville of that name), a man who 'enterlaced his home magistracy with martiall employments abroad,' and was a great favourite with bluff King Hal:

'At the last Cornish commotion Sir Richard Greynuile the elder, with his Ladie and followers, put themselves into this Castle, and there for awhile indured the Rebels siege, incamped in three places against it, who wanting great Ordinance, could have wrought the besieged small scathe, had his friends, or enemies, kept faith and promise: but some of those within, slipping by night over the wals, with their bodies after their hearts, and those without, mingling humble intreatings with rude menaces, he was hereby wonne, to issue forth at a posterne gate for parley. The while, a part of those rakehels, not knowing what honestie, and farre lesse, how much the word of a souldier imported, stepped betweene him and home, laid hold on his aged unweyldie body and threatened to leaue it liuelesse, if the inclosed did not leaue their resistance. So prosecuting their first treacherie against the prince, with suteable actions towards his subjects, they seized on the Castle, and exercised the uttermost of their barbarous crueltie (death excepted) on the surprised prisoners. The seely (i.e. harmless) gentlewomen, without regard of sexe or shame, were stripped from their apparrell to their verie smockes, and some of their fingers broken, to plucke away their rings, & Sir Richard himself made an exchange from Trematon Castle, to that of Launceston, with the Gayle to boote.'

Sir Richard, who married Matilda Bevill, died in 1550; and I have been fortunate enough to find two of his poetical effusions—apparently in his own handwriting, now very indistinct in places—amongst the 'Additional MSS.' in the British Museum. They appear to me to be well worth inserting, notwithstanding their queer versification and grammar, and their odd orthography:

'IN PRAISE OF SEAFARINGE MEN IN HOPES OF GOOD FORTUNE.

'Whoe seekes the waie to win Renowne
Or flies with wyinges of ye Desarte
Whoe seekes to wear the Lawrell crowen
Or hath the mind that would espire
Tell him his native soyll eschew
Tell him go rainge and seke Anewe

'Eche hawtie harte is well contente
With euerie chance that shalbe tyde
No hap can hinder his entente
He steadfast standes though fortune slide
The sun quoth he doth shine as well
A brod as earst where I did dwell

'In change of streames each fish can live
Eche soule content with everie Ayre
Eche hawtie hart remaineth still
And not be Dround in depe Dispaire
Wherfor I judg all landes a likes
To hawtie hartes whom fortune seekes

'Two pass the seaes som thinkes a toille
Som thinkes it strange abrod to rome
Som thinkes it agrefe to leave their soylle
Their parentes cynfolke and their whome
Thinke soe who list I like it nott
I must abrod to trie my lott

'Who list at whome at carte to drudge
And carke and care for worldlie trishe
With buckled sheues let him go trudge
Instead of laureall a whip to slishe
A mynd that basse his hind will show
Of carome sweet to feed a crowe

'If fasonn of that mynd had bine
The gresions when they came to troye
Had never so the Trogians foyhte
Nor neuer put them to such Anoye
Wherfore who lust to live at whome
To purchase fame I will go Rome

'Finis—Sur Richard Grinfillde's Farewell'

But Sir Richard feels bound to confess that there is another and quite a different aspect of the question; and accordingly frames the following set-off to his former lines:

'ANOTHER OF SEA FARDINGERS DISCRIBING EVILL FORTUNES.'

'What pen can well reporte the plighte
Of those that travell on the seaes
To pas the werie winters nighte
With stormie cloudes wisshinge for daie
With waves that toss them to and fro
Their pore estate is hard to show

When boistering windes begins to blowe
And cruel costes from haven wee
The foggie mysts soe dimes the shore
The rocks and sandes we maie not see
Nor have no Rome on Seaes to trie
But praie to God and yeld to Die

When shouldes and sandie bankes Apears
What pillot can divert his course
When foming tides draweth us so nere
A las what fortenn can be worsse
The Ankers hould roust be our staie
Or Elise we fall into Decaye

We wander still from Loffe to Lie
And findes no steadfast wind to blow
We still remaine in jeopardie
Each perelos poynt is hard to showe
In time we hope to find Redresse
That long have lived in Heavines

O pinchinge werie lothsome Lyffe
That Travell still in far Exsylle
The dangers great on Sease be ryfe
Whose recompense doth yeld but toylle
O fortune graunte me mie Desire
A hapie end I doe Require

When freates and states have had their fill
The gentill calm the cost will clere
Then hawtie hartes shall have their will
That longe hast wept with morning chere
And leave the Seaes with thair Anoy
At whome at Ease to live in Joy.

'Finis.'

The poetical Sir Richard's son Roger, a Captain in the Navy, lost his life at the sinking of the Mary Rose (commanded by Sir George Carew, a Cornishman), at Spithead in 1545. 'Thus the ocean became a bedde of honour,' as Carew says, 'to more than one of the Grenvilles.'

But it is time that we should turn to a greater Sir Richard—the son of Roger Grenville and Thomasin Cole of Slade.

My task will be on this occasion comparatively light;

'His praise is hymned by loftier harps than mine.'

The famous deeds of the great man to whom I have now to call attention have been celebrated by such writers as his kinsman Sir Walter Raleigh; by Carew; by that master of portraiture Lord Clarendon; by Charles Kingsley; and by Tennyson; and I shall of course offer no apology for not using any words of my own, where I can use theirs: for, as Fuller said of the Ashburnhams, 'My poor and plain pen, though willing, is unable to add any lustre to this family of stupendous antiquity.'

Sir Richard, then, was born in 1540; and, when only sixteen years of age, served in Hungary, under the Emperor Maximilian, against the Turks, and was present with Don John of Austria, at the battle of Lepanto. He afterwards assisted in the reduction of Ireland; and, whilst there, filled the office of Sheriff of Cork. When Sheriff of Cornwall in 1577, he arrested Francis Tregian for harbouring Cuthbert Mayne, a recusant priest (see sub 'The Arundells'). In 1571 he represented his native county in Parliament, and was knighted. On 19th May, 1585, he sailed from Plymouth with the first colonists, on a voyage to the new-found land of Virginia, of which voyage Thomas Hariot gave a 'Briefe and True Report,' printed in 1588: on his homeward passage he fell in with a Spanish ship of 300 tons, richly laden, from St. Domingo, which he boarded on a raft, his own boats being lost or disabled; and in 1586 he made a second visit to Virginia, pillaging the towns of the Spaniards, and taking many prisoners. With Raleigh he seems to have made one or two similar expeditions, gathering much experience, if not much pecuniary advantage.[9]

When the Spanish invasion was projected, Sir Richard was, almost as a matter of course, elected on the Council for the defence of the country, and he received the Queen's special commands not to quit Cornwall during the peril. On this occasion, he is said to have provided '303 men at his own cost, armed with 129 shot, 69 corsletts, and 179 bows.' Of the result there is no need to speak here; but it has always been a matter of pride for West-country men to think how large a share in the destruction of the Invincible Armada was performed by the gallant sailors who quietly dropped out of Plymouth Sound, and harassed their huge opponents for days, till, what with shot, and storm, and tempest, scarce one of the Spaniards was left to tell the tale of their utter, and irretrievable defeat.

Kingsley has thus admirably described Sir Richard's appearance:[10]

'The forehead and whole brain are of extraordinary loftiness, and perfectly upright; the nose long, aquiline, and delicately pointed; the mouth, fringed with a short, silky beard, small and ripe, yet firm as granite, with just pout enough of the lower lip to give hint of that capacity of noble indignation which lay hid under its usual courtly calm and sweetness; if there be a defect in the face, it is that the eyes are somewhat small, and close together, and the eyebrows, though delicately arched, and without a trace of peevishness, too closely pressed down upon them; the complexion is dark, the figure tall and graceful; altogether the likeness of a wise and gallant gentleman, lovely to all good men, awful to all bad men; in whose presence none dare say or do a mean or a ribald thing; whom brave men left, feeling themselves nerved to do their duty better, while cowards slipped away, as bats and owls before the sun. So he lived and moved; whether in the Court of Elizabeth, giving his counsel among the wisest; or in the streets of Bideford, capped alike by squire and merchant, shopkeeper and sailor; or riding along the moorland roads between his houses of Stow and Bideford, while every woman ran out to her door to look at the great Sir Richard; or sitting in the low, mullioned window at Burrough, with his cup of malmsey before him, and the lute to which he had just been singing laid across his knees, while the red western sun streamed in upon his high, bland forehead and soft curling locks; ever the same steadfast, God-fearing, chivalrous man, conscious (as far as a soul so healthy could be conscious) of the pride of beauty, and strength, and valour, and wisdom, and a race and name which claimed direct descent from the grandfather of the Conqueror, and was tracked down the centuries by valiant deeds and noble benefits to his native shire, himself the noblest of his race. Men said that he was proud—but he could not look round him without having something to be proud of; that he was stern and harsh to his sailors—but it was only when he saw in them any taint of cowardice or falsehood; that he was subject, at moments, to such fearful fits of rage, that he had been seen to snatch glasses from the table, grind them to pieces in his teeth, and swallow them—but that was only when his indignation had been aroused by some tale of cruelty and oppression; and, above all, by those West Indian devilries of the Spaniards, whom he regarded (and in those days rightly enough) as the enemies of God and man.'[11]

And the noble old house at Stow, with its chapel licensed by Bishop Brantingham of Exeter, in 1386,[12] of which no vestige, alas! remains, was worthy of being the abode of such a hero. It would be but unprofitable labour to attempt a fresh description of it after the graphic account which Kingsley gives:

'Old Stow House stands,' says he, 'or rather stood, some four miles within the Cornish border, on the northern slope of the largest and loveliest of those coombes'—which he had just been describing in a memorable passage of a preceding chapter (the sixth) in 'Westward Ho!' 'Eighty years after Sir Richard's time there arose a huge Palladian pile, bedizened with every monstrosity of bad taste, which was built, so the story runs, by Charles II. for Sir Richard's great-grandson, the heir of that famous Sir Bevil who defeated the Parliamentary troops at Stratton, and died soon after, fighting valiantly at Lansdowne over Bath. But like most other things which owed their existence to the Stuarts, it rose only to fall again. An old man who had seen, as a boy, the foundation of the new house laid, lived to see it pulled down again, and the very bricks and timber sold upon the spot; and since then the stables have become a farmhouse, the tennis-court a sheep-cote, the great quadrangle a rick-yard; and civilization, spreading wave on wave so fast elsewhere, has surged back from that lonely corner of the land—let us hope only for awhile. [13]

'But I am not writing of that great new Stow House, of the past glories whereof quaint pictures still hang in the neighbouring houses; ... I have to deal with a simpler age, and a sterner generation; and with the old house, which had stood there, in part at least, from grey and mythic ages ... a huge, rambling building, half-castle, half-dwelling-house.... On three sides, to the north, west and south, the lofty walls of the old ballium still stood, with their machicolated turrets, loopholes, and dark downward crannies for dropping stones and fire on the besiegers; ... but the southern court of the ballium had become a flower-garden, with quaint terraces, statues, knots of flowers, clipped yews and hollies, and all the pedantries of the topiarian art. And, towards the east, where the vista of the valley opened, the old walls were gone, and the frowning Norman keep, ruined in the wars of the Roses, had been replaced by the rich and stately architecture of the Tudors. Altogether, the house, like the time, was in a transitionary state, and represented faithfully enough the passage of the old middle age into the new life which had just burst into blossom throughout Europe, never, let us pray, to see its autumn or its winter.

'From the house on three sides the hills sloped steeply down, and from the garden there was a truly English prospect. At one turn they could catch, over the western walls, a glimpse of the blue ocean flecked with passing sails; and at the next, spread far below, range on range of fertile park, stately avenue, yellow autumn woodland, and purple heather moors, lapping over and over each other up the valley to the old British earthwork, which stood black and furze-grown on its conical peak; and, standing out against the sky, on the highest bank of the hill which closed the valley to the east, the lofty tower of Kilkhampton Church, rich with the monuments and offerings of five centuries of Grenvilles.'

Such were old Stow, and its gallant owner Sir Richard. And the women of the Grenville home seem, for the most part, to have been as fair and virtuous and accomplished as their husbands were sagacious and brave. Polwhele, in after-times, particularly noticed the remarkable beauty of Sir Richard's great-great-granddaughter Mary, the daughter of the Honourable Bernard Grenville, of Stow. Sir Richard married Mary, the daughter of Sir John St. Leger; but the lovely dame had, like the wife of her illustrious grandson, Sir Bevill, to give up what was dearest to her in the world, to the cruel necessities of the troubled times in which they lived.

Yet I cannot doubt that these women had the spirits of Roman matrons within them; and would have assented to Lovelace's lines had their husbands whispered the couplet to them:

'I could not love thee, dear, so much
Lov'd I not honour more.'

To return to Sir Richard:—In 1591 we find him acting as Vice-Admiral of a squadron sent out to intercept the richly-laden Spanish fleet on its return from the West Indies; a service of the utmost importance, as, in capturing or sinking the Indian supplies, observes Mr. Arber, England 'stopped the sources of Philip's power to hurt herself.' How the English ships were surprised in their lurking-place 'at Flores [14] in the Azores,' and how valiantly Sir Richard Grenville fought and died for Queen and country, let Raleigh and Tennyson tell.

It was towards the end of August, whilst the Admiral, Lord Thomas Howard,[15] with six of her Majesty's ships and a few smaller vessels and pinnaces, was at anchor at Flores, when news suddenly came of the near approach of the great Spanish fleet. Many of the Englishmen were ill on shore, while others were filling the ships with ballast, or collecting water. Imperfectly manned and ballasted as they were, there was nothing for it—at least so Lord Howard appears to have thought—in the face of so enormously preponderating a force as they found was close at hand, but to weigh anchor, and escape as they best could: and so it became a complete sauve qui peut; some of the ships were even compelled to slip their cables. Sir Richard, as Vice-Admiral, was the last to start, delaying to do so till the final moment, in order to collect several of his sick crew who were on the island, and who, if he had left them there, must have been lost. This noble delay of his resulted in the safety of the remainder of the fleet; but it cost Sir Richard and his crew their lives; and the little Revenge, which had four or five times narrowly escaped shipwreck, her existence: but she was, as Admiral Hawkins described her, 'ever a ship loaden, and full fraught with ill successe.' Grenville refused to 'cut his mainsail, and cast about,' and so run from the enemy; but persuaded his crew that he would contrive to pass through the two great Spanish squadrons which intercepted him, 'in despight of them, and would enforce those of Sivil to give him way.' It was the story of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylæ acted over again. The huge San Philip of 1,500 tons (carrying 'three tier of ordinance on a side, and eleven pieces on every tier; she shot eight forth right out of her chase, besides those of her stern ports'), however, loomed to windward of the small English ship; and 'becalmed his sails in such sort as the Revenge could neither make way, nor feel the helm;' and then—

'Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a hurrah, and so
The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
For half of their fleet to the right, and half to the left were seen,
And the little Revenge ran on thro' the long sea lane between.'

What end could there be, but one, to courage so chivalric, so desperate, and so devoted as this? 'After the Revenge was entangled with this Philip,' says Raleigh, 'four other boarded her—(i.e., laid her aboard)—two on her larboard, and two on her starboard. The fight thus beginning at three o'clock in the afternoon, continued very terrible all that evening. But the great San Philip having received the lower tier of the Revenge, discharged with cross-bar shot, shifted herself with all diligence from her sides, utterly misliking her first entertainment. Some say that the ship foundered, but we cannot report for truth, unless we are assured. The Spanish ships were filled with companies of soldiers, in some two hundred, beside the mariners; in some five, in others eight, hundred. In ours there were none at all besides the mariners, but the servants of the commanders, and some few voluntary gentlemen only. After many interchanged vollies of great ordnance and small shot, the Spaniards deliberated to enter the Revenge, and made divers attempts, hoping to force her, by the multitudes of their armed soldiers and musketeers, but were still repulsed again and again, and at all times beaten back into their own ships, or into the seas.'

'And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,
For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
And a dozen times we shook 'em off, as a dog that shakes his ears
When he leaps from the water to the land.'

'In the beginning of the fight,' Sir Walter Raleigh continues, 'the George Noble, of London, having received some shot through her, by the armadas, fell under the lee of the Revenge, and asked Sir Richard what he would command him, being but one of the victuallers, and of small force; Sir Richard bade him save himself, and leave him to his fortune. After the fight had thus, without intermission, continued while the day lasted, and some hours of the night, many of our men were slain and hurt, and one of the great gallions of the armada, and the admiral of the hulks both sunk, and in many other of the Spanish ships great slaughter was made.'

The marvel is how a fragment of the brave little craft was still afloat, for

'Ship after ship the whole night long, their high-built galleons came,
Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder and flame,
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame.
For some were sunk, and some were shattered, and some could fight us no more—
God of battles! was ever a battle like this in the world before?'

'Some write,' says Raleigh, 'that Sir Richard was very dangerously hurt almost in the beginning of the fight, and lay speechless for a time before he recovered. But two of the Revenge's own company brought home in a ship of Lime (Lyme Regis) from the islands, examined by some of the lords and others, affirm that he was never so wounded as that he forsook the upper deck, till an hour before midnight; and then being shot into the body with a musket as he was a dressing, was again shot into the head, and withal his chururgion wounded to death. This agreeth also with an examination taken by Sir Francis Godolphin,[16] of four other mariners of the same ship being returned, which examination the said Sir Francis sent unto Master William Killegrue,[17] of Her Majesty's Privy Chamber.'

But to return to the fight; 'the Spanish ships which attempted to board the Revenge, as they were wounded and beaten off, so always others came in their places, she having never less than two mighty gallions by her sides, and aboard her: so that ere the morning, from three of the clock of the day before, there had been fifteen several armadas assailed her; and all so ill-approved their entertainment, as they were by the break of day far more willing to hearken to a composition than hastily to make any more assaults or entries. But as the day encreased, so our men decreased; and as the light grew more and more, by so much more grew our discomforts; for none appeared in sight but enemies, saving one small ship called the Pilgrim, commanded by Jacob Whiddon, who hovered all night to see the success; but in the morning bearing with the Revenge, was hunted like a hare amongst many ravenous hounds, but escaped.

'All the powder of the Revenge to the last barrel was now spent, all her pikes broken, forty of her best men slain, and the most part of the rest hurt. In the beginning of the fight she had but one hundred free from sickness, and four score and ten sick, laid in hold upon the ballast. A small troop to man such a ship, and a weak garrison to resist so mighty an army. By those hundred all was sustained, the vollies, boardings, and enterings of fifteen ships of war, besides those which beat her at large (i.e., from a little distance off). On the contrary, the Spaniards were always supplied with soldiers brought from every squadron; all manner of arms and powder at will. Unto ours there remained no comfort at all, no hope, no supply either of ships, men, or weapons; the masts all beaten overboard, all her tackle cut asunder, her upper work altogether razed, and in effect evened she was with the water, but the very foundation of a ship, nothing being left overhead either for flight or defence.' Mr. O. W. Brierly's recently engraved picture of this stage of the fight, showing the little Revenge with her mainsail down and lying over her 'like a pall,' surrounded by her over-towering enemies, still afraid to approach the dangerous little barque, gives a vivid, and probably accurate idea of the tremendous odds against which the devoted Englishmen had to contend.

'Sir Richard, finding himself in this distress, and unable any longer to make resistance, having endured, in this fifteen hours' fight, the assault of fifteen different armadas, all by turns aboard him, and by estimation eight hundred shot of great artillery, besides many assaults and entries; and that the ship and himself must needs be possessed of the enemy, who were now all cast in a ring round about him, now gave the order to destroy his gallant craft:

'"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
As may never be fought again!
We have won great glory, my men!
And a day less or more
At sea or ashore
We die—does it matter when?
Sink me the ship, Master Gunner—sink her, split her in twain!
Fall into the hands of God! not into the hands of Spain!"'

To this δαιμονίη ἀρετὴ (as Froude calls it) of the fiery Sir Richard the master-gunner readily assented; but, according to Raleigh's account, the captain and master pointed out that the Spaniards would doubtless give them good terms, and that there were still some valiant men left on board their little ship whose lives might hereafter be of service to England. Sir Richard was probably by this time too weak and wounded to contest the matter further; the counsels of the captain and master prevailed; and the master actually succeeded in obtaining for conditions that all their lives should be saved, the crew sent to England, and the officers ransomed. In vain did the master-gunner protest and even attempt to commit suicide: Tennyson has summed up the story in one sad line:

'And the lion lay there dying, and they yielded to the foe.'

Sir Richard was now removed to the ship of the Spanish admiral, 'the Revenge being marvellous unsavoury, filled with blood and bodies of dead and wounded men like a slaughter-house.'

And now—

'How died he? Death to life is crown, or shame—'

There, on the deck of Don Alfonso Bassano's ship, in the midst of the Spanish captains, who crowded round to wonder at the man who had so long defied their deadly attacks, two or three days after the fight between 'the mastiffs of England and the bloodhounds of Spain,' the grand old Cornish warrior's spirit left the body, speaking his last words thus—in Spanish, so John Huighen van Linschoten (in 'Hakluyt's Voyages') tells us:

'Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind; for that I have ended my life as a true soldier ought to do, fighting for his Country, Queen, Religion and Honour: my soul willingly departing from this body, leaving behind the lasting fame of having behaved as every valiant soldier is in duty bound to do.'

Lord Bacon says of the fight that it was 'Memorable euen beyond credit, and to the Height of some Heroicall Fable.'

And well might Ruskin, in his 'Bibliotheca Pastorum' (i. 33), class the Cornish hero with Arnold of Sempach, Leonidas and Curtius as a type of 'the divinest of sacrifices—that of the patriot for his country'! Well might the gentle Evelyn exclaim: 'Than this what have we more? What can be greater?' And well might gallant old Sir John Hawkins wish that this story might be 'written in our Chronicles,'—as it has been, by Raleigh and by Tennyson,—in 'letters of Gold.'

The Spanish fleet were not permitted to enjoy the fruits of this, their hard-earned and almost only capture during the war; for, a few days after the battle, a great storm arose from the west and north-west, dispersing their battle-ships, and also the West Indian fleet (the cause of the English Expedition) which had now joined them; and sinking, off the coast of St. Michael, fourteen sail, together with the Revenge—which seemed to disdain to survive her commander—with 200 Spaniards on board her.

'So it pleased them,' says Raleigh, 'to honour the burial of that renowned ship the Revenge, not suffering her to perish alone, for the great honour she achieved in her life-time.' A noble elegy! which even Tennyson's genius has been unable to surpass.

This is not perhaps the time or the place to consider how it was possible for this one little English vessel with a crew of 100 men, to contend so long against 50 (or according to some accounts 53) Spanish galleons with 10,000 men, sinking four of the largest, and slaying 1,000 Spaniards; but it was no doubt owing to more causes than one:—to the low and short hull, which made her more manageable—to superior gunnery and seamanship—but mainly to the stoutest, freest, and fiercest hearts upon earth—the hearts of Englishmen. They believed they were more than a match for their foes, and confidence begat victory; and if ever there was an English victory, in the fullest sense of the word, it was the triumphant loss of the 'Revenge.'

The Spanish proverb ran

'Guerra con todo il mondo;—y paz con Inghilterra;'

and it has well been said that the episode of the Revenge dealt a deadlier blow to the fame and moral strength of Spain, than even the defeat of the Armada itself.[18] But Sir Richard was not left without a witness. Passing over his son John, who, Carew says, followed Raleigh, and was drowned in the ocean, which 'became his bedde of honour;' and also another son Sir Bernard, who died in 1605, after having served as Sheriff of Cornwall and M.P. for Bodmin—as not being of such transcendent merit as either Sir Bernard's father or son—we come to the 'immortal' Sir Bevill Grenville, eldest son of the said Sir Bernard and his wife Elizabeth Beville of Killigarth near Polperro—(or, according to another account, of Brinn)—a man no whit inferior in loyalty and courage to his illustrious grandsire.

Sir Bevill was born, somewhat unexpectedly, on 23rd March, 1595, at Brinn—probably Great Brinn, the seat of the Bevills, but not a stone of the old mansion is now standing—in the little Cornish parish of Withiel; four years after the little Revenge went down by the island crags,

'To be lost evermore in the main.'

He was doubtless carefully brought up at Stow—the old Stow—which was in those days a sort of nursery for the better sort of young Cornishmen. The late Rev. R. S. Hawker, vicar of Morwenstow, has given us the following pleasant picture of it in Sir Bevill's days:

'On the brow of a lofty hill,[19] crested with stag-horned trees, commanding a deep and woodland gorge wherein "the Crooks of Combe" (the curves of a winding river) urge onward to the "Severn Sea," still survive the remains of famous old Stow, that historic abode of the loyal and glorious Sir Bevill, the Bayard of old Cornwall, "sans peur et sans reproche," in the thrilling Stewart wars. No mansion on the Tamar-side ever accumulated so rich and varied a store of association and event. Thither the sons of the Cornish gentry were accustomed to resort, to be nurtured and brought up with the children of Sir Bevill Grenville and Lady Grace; for the noble knight was literally the "glass wherein" the youth of those ancient times "did dress themselves." There their graver studies were relieved by manly pastimes and athletic exercise. Like the children of the Persians, they were taught "to ride, to bend the bow, and to speak the truth." At hearth and hall every time-honoured usage and festive celebration was carefully and reverently preserved. Around the walls branched the massive antlers of the red deer of the moors, the trophies of many a bold achievement with horse and hound. At the buttery-hatch hung a tankard, marked with the guest's and the traveller's peg, and a manchet, flanked with native cheese, stood ready on a trencher for any sudden visitant who might choose to lift the latch; for the Grenville motto was, "An open door and a greeting hand." A troop of retainers, servants, grooms, and varlets of the yard, stood each in his place, and under orders to receive with a welcome the unknown stranger, as well as their master's kinsman or friend.'

To Mr. Hawker's graceful pen we are also indebted for the following capital ballad:

SIR BEVILL—THE GATE SONG OF STOW.

'Arise, and away! for the King and the land;
Farewell to the couch and the pillow:
With spear in the rest, and with rein in the hand,
Let us rush on the foe like a billow.

'Call the hind from the plough, and the herd from the fold,
Bid the wassailer cease from his revel;
And ride for Old Stow, where the banner's unrolled
For the cause of King Charles and Sir Bevill.

'Trevanion is up, and Godolphin is nigh,
And Harris of Hayne's o'er the river;
From Lundy to Loo, "One and all" is the cry,
And "The King and Sir Bevill for ever!"

'Ay! by Tre, Pol, and Pen, ye may know Cornish men,
'Mid the names and the nobles of Devon;
But if truth to the King be a signal, why then
Ye can find out the Grenville in heaven.

'Ride! ride with red spur! there is death in delay,
'Tis a race for dear life with the devil;
If dark Cromwell prevail, and the King must give way,
This earth is no place for Sir Bevill.

'So at Stamford he fought, and at Lansdowne he fell,
But vain were the visions he cherished;
For the great Cornish heart that the King loved so well,
In the grave of the Grenville is perished.'

From Stow Bevill Grenville went to the famous old West-country college, Exeter College, Oxford; where he was placed under Dr. Prideaux (one, I fancy, of the worthy family of Prideaux Place, Padstow). He shortly afterwards entered Parliament, and going to Scotland, in command of a troop of horse, with the King, was knighted.[20]

The relations of Sir Bevill and Clarendon were peculiar. Clarendon had quarrelled with Sir Bevill's fiery brother, Sir Richard (created, according to Whitelocke, Baron of Lostwithiel in 1644), a man of high spirit and of considerable bravery and military skill, but with an unlucky facility for getting into scrapes and troubles of all sorts. He begins with a squabble with his wife's brother-in-law, the powerful Earl of Suffolk, which ends in Sir Richard's having to pay a fine of £8,000, besides undergoing sixteen months' imprisonment in the Fleet. He afterwards served in Ireland, and on his return to England, finding it a matter of considerable difficulty to get his arrears of pay, resorted to the following questionable artifice for the purpose. He pretended to lend a not unwilling ear to the Parliament's suggestion, that in return for being paid the money due to him, he should transfer his sword from the King's cause to theirs. Indeed, he even went so far as to take the command of a body of Roundhead horse, and marched upon Basing. But on reaching Hounslow he, without much difficulty, persuaded all his officers and men to proceed to Oxford instead, where he placed the services of his whole party at the King's disposal, whereupon the Parliamentarians righteously enough dubbed him 'skellum' (scoundrel) and 'renegado.' He did yeoman's service for the King in Cornwall, and Charles left the blockade of Plymouth in his charge—a blockade which, as we know, was finally abandoned. The whole story is given in Llewellyn Jewitt's 'History of Plymouth,' together with a scornful letter to Sir Richard from the defenders. And I notice that in a letter from Sir R. Grenville to his nephew, the Earl of Bath, then only about sixteen years old, he is reported to have said, 'We have here made a stand with our forces and the garrisons of Salt Ash, Milbrooke and others considerable have come up and added to our former, and we hope well.' The letter is dated 'Truro, 29 July, 1644.'

There appears to have been no sufficient reason why he should have been asked to surrender his post of 'the King's General in the West'[21] in favour of Lord Hopton, but he was compelled to do so; and on giving up his command he refused to serve under that officer, upon which he was forthwith 'clapped up' in Launceston Gaol, to the great dissatisfaction of many of the Cornish officers and soldiers, who attributed their ultimate discomfiture to the absence of Sir Richard from the field.[22] Clarendon (his foe), and the prejudiced and inaccurate Echard, give very unflattering accounts of Sir Richard; but his grand-nephew, George Lord Lansdowne, published a skilful and temperate vindication of him against their aspersions; and Sir Richard printed his own 'Defence' in Holland, dating it 28th January, 1654. Whilst in Holland, by the way, he seems to have attempted reprisals upon the Earl of Suffolk; for we find that one of Milton's Latin 'State Letters' is addressed to the Archduke Leopold of Austria, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands (undated), to the effect that Sir Charles Harbord, an Englishman, has had certain goods and household stuff violently seized at Bruges by Sir Richard Grenville. The goods had originally been sent from England to Holland in 1643 by the then Earl of Suffolk, in pledge for a debt owing to Harbord; and Grenville's pretext was that he also was a creditor of the Earl, and had obtained a decree of the English Chancery in his favour. Now, by the English law, neither was the present Earl of Suffolk bound by that decree, nor could the goods be distrained under it. The decision of the Court to that effect was transmitted, and his Serenity was requested to cause Grenville to restore the goods, inasmuch as it was against the comity of nations that anyone should be allowed an action in foreign jurisdiction which he would not be allowed in the country where the cause of the action first arose. The letter ends thus:

'The justice of the case itself and the universal reputation of your Serenity for fair dealing have moved us to commend the matter to your attention; and, if at any time there shall be occasion to discuss the rights or convenience of your subjects with us, I promise that you shall find our diligence in the same not remiss, but at all times most ready.'

Clarendon and Sir Richard both went into exile, and more than once hurled reproaches at each other; but the crowning misfortune of Grenville's life was the refusal of Charles II., on Sir Richard's failing to justify some statements which he had made against Lord Clarendon, to let him appear at Court. This broke the old man's heart. He let his beard grow from that time; and died soon afterwards.[23]

Hals, delighting, as usual, to say anything sour and disagreeable of his fellow-countymen, states in his MSS. that when Sir Richard, at the death of Charles I., 'for safe gaurd of his life fled beyond the seas,' he passed most of his time 'in france and Itally, sufferinge greate wants and necessities,' and 'was at Length comparitively starved to Death.... His son Richard Grenvill, in the Interregnum of Cromwell, was executed at Tyburne for robbinge Passengers on the high way to Relieve his necessity. Moreover Sir Thomas Grenvill Kt. at the same tyme was Driven to such Extreame wants in his owne Country that he was forced for Reliefe to begge the Charity of his friends and Dyed in Great want and penury—and his Lady also—though his Daughter Jane, being a Servant to the Lady Robarts, was marryed to John Tregagle Gent. from whom the Tregagles of Treworder are Descended.'

Here is, perhaps, a convenient place to add that Polwhele thought that Henry Grenfield, Master of the Truro Grammar School in 1685, was one of this family. He wrote a charming 'Hymnus Vespertinus,' which is preserved in R. N. Worth's 'West Country Garland.'

A writer in Notes and Queries (5th Series, X. Sept. 14th, 1878) observes that, 'It is curious that, whereas the name of Grenville, as one of distinction, has long died out in Cornwall, it appeared suddenly in the registers of Fowey about a hundred years ago, the persons bearing it being in humble circumstances. As this is the only trace of the family name remaining in Cornwall or Devonshire, counties with which it was so intimately connected in local history, the matter may be of interest. There would, in fact, seem to be some mystery enveloping the extinction of the name, which is at the present moment borne by right of birth by very few persons, although some six creations of the title have been made to keep it in the peerage. Gilbert is believed to have entertained an opinion that the family still existed in the direct line in Cornwall or Devonshire, and had sunk out of sight by reason of poverty, when the never very flourishing condition of the Grenvilles became untenable. The Carterets, Thynnes, and Leveson-Gowers now jointly and severally represent the old family, but only indirectly, and solely in the line which Sir Bevill Grenville ennobled.'

But Clarendon, though he had quarrelled so utterly with Sir Richard, had nothing but good to say of 'the most generally beloved man of the county of Cornwall,' his brother, Sir Bevill [24] —'Sans peur et sans reproche'—of his mild and conciliatory character, his indefatigable activity, and his ardent courage—qualities which rendered him an invaluable adherent of the first Charles during the unnatural struggles of the Civil War—'the war without an enemy'—the black cloud' which was to overspreade the whole kingdome, and cast all into disorder and darknesse.'

It will be within the memory of all readers of the noble historian that the King's cause suffered very much, from the first, from the superior promptitude of the Parliamentary leaders, who had actually appointed Militia Committees in the various counties—Cornwall included—long before the King's standard was raised. But the Cornish gentry, headed by our Sir Bevill, who had already in 1638 raised a troop of horse to serve with Charles against the Scots, were conspicuous for their loyalty, to which Charles's memorable letter of thanks from Sudeley Castle, 10th September, 1643 (copies of which still hang in many of the Cornish churches as commanded by the King) amply testifies. And at first Sir Bevill, 'the Mirror of Chivalry,' as he was called in the West, was more than a match for the Committees, which he speedily suppressed; and at once, with the assistance of Trevanion, Arundell, Basset, Godolphin, and others, set to work to raise a regular force.[25]

At this juncture, the following sweet and gallant letter, which Eliot Warburton quotes as an example of the romantic loyalty of the day, in his 'Memoirs of Prince Rupert and the Cavaliers,' was addressed to Sir John Trelawny, the first baronet of that name—evidently in reply to a communication from Sir John urging the Knight of Stow not to embark in so perilous an enterprise:

'Most Honourable Sir,

'I have in many kinds had trial of your nobleness, but in none more than in this singular expression of your kind care and love. I give also your excellent Lady humble thanks for respect unto my poor Woman, who hath been long a faithful much obliged servant of your Ladyes. But, Sir, for my journey, it is fixed. I cannot contain myself within my doors, when the King of England's standard waves in the field upon so just occasion. The cause being such as must make all those that die in it little inferior to martyrs. And for my own part, I desire to acquire an honest name or an honourable grave. I never loved my life or ease so much as to shun such an occasion; which if I should, I were unworthy of the profession I have held, or to succeed those ancestors of mine, who have so many of them in several ages sacrificed their lives for their country.

'Sir, the barborous and implacable enemy, notwithstanding His Majesty's gracious proceedings with them, do continue their insolencies and rebellion in the highest degree, and are united in a body of great strength; so, as you may expect, if they be not prevented and mastered near their own homes, they will be troublesome in yours, and in the remotest places ere long.

'I am not without the consideration, as you lovingly advise, of my wife and family; and as for her, I must acknowledge, she hath ever drawn so evenly in the yoke with me, as she hath never prest before, or hung behind me, nor ever opposed or resisted my will. And yet truly, I have not, in this or anything else, endeavoured to walk in any way of power with her, but of reason; and though her love will submit to either, yet truly my respect will not suffer me to urge her with power unless I can convince with reason. So much for that, whereof I am willing to be accomptable unto so good a friend.

'I have no suit unto you in mine own behalf, but for your prayers and good wishes; and that if I live to come home again, you would please to continue me in the number of your servants.

'I shall give a true relation unto my very noble friend Mr. Moyle, of your and his Aunt's loving respect to him, which he hath good reason to be thankful for. And so, I beseech God to send you and your noble family all health and happiness, and while I live, I am, Sir,

'Your unfeigned loving and faithful Servant,

'Bevill Grenvile.'

Writing to his 'Deare love' and 'best friend,' from Bodmin on the 12th October, he says: 'My neighbours did ill that came not out, and are punishable by the law in high degree; and although I will do the best I can to save some of the honester sort, yet others shall smart.' Nevertheless he was a staunch friend of Sir John Eliot (who was godfather to one of his children), and was mainly instrumental in procuring Sir John's release from the Tower. Forster quotes many of Sir Bevill's letters, in his 'Life of Eliot,' all of which are in the highest degree noble, patriotic, and affectionate. But by far the most charming are the following delightful letters to his graceful, affectionate, and accomplished wife:[26]

'To my best Frend—the Lady Grace Grenvile—these.

Plimp. (Plympton), Feb. 20, 1642.

'My deare Love,

'Y^r great care and good affection, as they are very remarkable, so they deserve my best thankes, and I could wish that the subject which you bestowe them upon could better requite you.

'I shall returne ye messenger with but little certainty concerning our present condition.'

(Here follows a description of the positions of the contending forces.)

'The Queene is coming with good Ayde to the King. The Parl. did attempt to force severall quarters where the King's army lay, and were beaten off with great losses to themselves in all places. We have advertiz^mt that some ayde is coming from his Ma^tie to us, but it is so slowe as we shall need it before we see it, but God's will be done, I am satisfied I cannot expire in a better cause. I have given some directions to Jack' (his son John Grenvile) 'for his study, pray cause him to putt them in execution, and to make some exercise in verse or prose every day. Intreat my cos.' (imperfect) 'and Bar. Geal. to take a little paines (with) him. I have released the Prisoners that Bar. Geal. wrote for. Let Cap. Stanb. know, it is all one to me whither he goe by Byd' (Bideford), 'or Pads. (Padstow) so he make haste and now to conclude, I beseech you take care of your health, I have nothing so much in my prayers. Y^r Phisiton Jennings is turned a Traytor with the rest—whereby he hath lost my love, and I am doubtfull to trust you with him. Present my humble duety and thanks to your mother and I beseech God to blesse your young People.

'I rest y^r owne ever,

Bevill Grenville.

'My new cap is a little to straight. I know not what forme of a certifficate it is that Jo. Geal. desires, but if he will send it to me drawne, I will get it sign'd.'

Then comes the account of the victory over the Parliamentary forces on Braddock Down, half-way between Lostwithiel and Liskeard:

'My deare Love,

'It hath pleas'd God to give us a happie victory this present Thursday being ye 19th of Jan^y, for which pray join with me in giving God thanks. We advanced yesterday from Bodmin to find ye enemy which we heard was abroad, or if we miss'd him in the field we were resolved to unhouse them in Liskeard or leave our boddies in the highway. We were not above 3 miles from Bodmin, when we had view of two troops of their horse to whom we sent some of ours, which chased them out of the field while our foot march'd after our horse; but night coming on we could march no further than Boconnocke Parke,[27] where (upon my co. Mohun's kind notion) we quartered all our army by good fires under the hedge. The next morning (being this day) we marched forth, and about noone came in full view of the enemies whole army upon a fair heath between Boconnocke and Braddocke Church. They were in horse much stronger than we, but in foot we were superior, as I thinke. They were possest of a pretty rising ground which was in the way towards Liskeard and we planted ourselves upon such another against them with in muskett shot, and we saluted each other with bulletts about two hours or more, each side being willing to keep their ground and to have the other to come over to his prejudice; but after so long delay, they standing still firm, and being obstinate to hould their advantage, Sir Ra. Hopton resolved to march over to them, and to leave all to the mercy of God and valour of our side. I had the Van; so after solemne prayers in the head of every division,[28] I led my part away, who followed me with so good courage both down one hill and up the other, as it strooke a terror in them, while the seconds came up gallantly after me, and the wings of horse charged on both sides, but their courage so failed them as they stood not our first charge of the foot, but fled in great disorder and we chast them divers miles; many were not slain because of their quick disordering, but we have taken above 600 prisoners among which S^r Shilston Calmady is one, and more are still brought in by the soldiers; much armes they have lost, and colours we have won, and 4 pieces of ordinance from them, and without rest we marched to Liskeard, and tooke it without delay, all their men flying from it before we came, and so I hope we are now againe in ye way to settle the country in peace. All our Cornish Grandies were present at the battell with the Scotch Generall Ruthen, the Somersett Collonels and the horse Captains Pim and Tomson, and but for their horses' speed had been all in our hands; let my sister and my cossens of Clovelly, with ye other friends, understande of God's mercy to us, and we lost not a man. So I rest

'Yours ever,

'Bevill Grenvile.

'Liskeard, Jan. 19, 1642.

'For the Lady Grace Grenvile

at Stow. d. d.

'The messenger is paide, yet give him a shilling more.'

As a result of the battle, Saltash was now relieved, many prisoners, guns, and a frigate were taken there, and the Parliamentary leaders were reduced to propose (ineffectually, however) the neutrality of Cornwall and Devon in the conflict. We next hear of Sir Bevill's being, in conjunction with Sir Ralph Hopton, after a sudden and forced march from Plymouth, attacked at Launceston; but the Cornish forces repulsed their assailants and drove them back into Devonshire. Such was the reputation of this gallant little force that it was now determined to send an army of 7,000 men against them, and the battle of Stratton, almost within sight of the old Grenville seat at Stow, ensued; in which the Parliamentarians, though two to one, were again defeated. Sir Bevill once more led the van of the King's army; and Clarendon thus describes the engagement in language so vivid, that we almost see the cavaliers as they dashed, all plumed and crimson-scarfed, through fields of blood:

'Then "Spur and sword!" was the battle-word, and we made their helmets ring,
Shouting like madmen all the while, "For God and for the King!"
And, though they snuffled psalms, to give the rebel dogs their due,
When the roaring shot poured thick and hot they were stalwart men and true.'

Thus Clarendon:

'In this manner the fight begun: the King's forces pressing, with their utmost vigour, up the hill, and the enemies as obstinately defending their ground. The fight continued with very doubtful success, till towards three of the clock in the afternoon; when word was brought to the chief officers of the Cornish that their ammunition was spent to less than four barrels of powder; which (concealing the defect from the soldiers) they resolved could only be supplied with courage; and therefore, by messengers to one another, they agreed to advance with their full bodies, without making any more shot, till they reached the top of the hill, and so might be upon even ground with the enemy; wherein the officers' courage and resolution was so well seconded by the soldiers, that they begun to get ground in all places; and the enemy, in wonder of the men, who out-faced their shot with their swords, to quit their post. Major-General Chudlegh, who ordered the battle, failed in no part of a soldier; and when he saw his men recoil from less numbers, and the enemy in all places gaining the hill upon him, himself advanced, with a good stand of pikes, upon that party which was led by Sir John Berkley and Sir Bevil Grenville, and charged them so smartly that he put them into disorder; Sir Bevil Grenville in the shock being borne to the ground, but, quickly relieved by his companion, they so re-inforced the charge that having killed most of the assailants, and dispersed the rest, they took the Major-General prisoner, after he had behaved himself with as much courage as a man could do. Then the enemy gave ground apace, inasmuch as the four parties, growing nearer and nearer as they ascended the hill, between three and four of the clock, they all met together upon one ground near the top of the hill, where they embraced with unspeakable joy, each congratulating the other's success, and all acknowledging the wonderful blessing of God; and being there possessed of some of the enemy's cannon, they turned them upon the camp, and advanced together to the perfect victory. But the enemy no sooner understood the loss of their Major-General but their hearts failed them; and being so resolutely pressed, and their ground lost, upon the security and advantage whereof they wholly depended, some of them threw down their arms, and others fled, dispersing themselves, and every man shifting for himself.

'This victory,' pursues the historian, 'was in substance, as well as circumstance, as signal a one as hath happened to either party since the unhappy distraction; for on the King's party were not lost in all above four score men, whereof few were officers, and none above the degree of a captain; and though many more were hurt, not above ten men died afterwards of their wounds. On the Parliament side, notwithstanding their advantage of ground, and that the other were the assailants, above three hundred were slain on the place, and seventeen hundred taken prisoners with their Major-General and above thirty other officers. They took likewise all their baggage and tents, all their cannon, being, as was said before, thirteen pieces of brass ordnance, and a brass mortar-piece: all their ammunition, being seventy barrels of powder, and all other sorts of ammunition proportionable, and a very great magazine of bisket and other excellent provisions of victuals; which was as seasonable a blessing as the victory, to those who for three or four days before had suffered great want of food as well as sleep, and were equally tired with duty and hunger.'

Perhaps I may be excused for mentioning here that Camden quotes approvingly from Johannes Sarisburiensis a tribute to Cornish valour, and that Michael Cornubiensis has also referred to the subject in the following lines:

'Rex Arcturus nos primos Cornubienses
Bellum facturus vocat, ut puta Cæsaris enses
Nobis non aliis, reliquis, dat primitus ictum
Per quem pax lisque, nobis fit utrumque relictum
Quid nos deterret, si firmiter in pede stemus,
Fraus ni nos superet, nihil est quod non supremus.'

Charles was not unmindful of the gallant Sir Bevill's share in the fight, as will be seen from 'His Majestie's letter to Sir Bevill Granvill after the great victory obtained over the Rebels, at the Battle of Stratton:'

'To our Right Trusty and Well beloved Sir Bevill Granvill at our Army in Cornwall.

'Charles R.

'Right Trusty and Well beloved wee greet you Well. Wee have seen your Letter to Endymion Porter Our Servant: But your whole conduct of Our Affairs in the West, doth speak your Zeal to Our Service and the Public Good in so full a Measure; as Wee Rest abundantly satisfy'd with the Testimony thereof. Your labours and your Expenses Wee are graciously Sensible of, and Our Royall Care hath been to ease you in all that Wee could. What hath fallen short of Our Princely Purposes, and your Expections, Wee know you will attribute to the great malignity of the Rebellion Wee had, and have here to wrestle withall; And Wee know well, how effectually a diversion of that mischievous strength you have made from us at your own hazzards. Wee assure you Wee have all tender sense of the hardness you have endured and the State wherein you stand: Wee shall not fail to procure you what speedy relief may be: In the mean space Wee send you Our most hearty thanks for some encouragement, and assurances in the Word of a Gracious Prince, that (God enabling us) Wee shall so reflect upon your faithfull Services, as you and yours shall have cause to acknowledge Our Bounty and Favours: And so Wee bid you heartily farewell. Given at Our Court at Oxford the 24th March, 1642/3.'

Cornwall was thus cleared of the enemy, and secured for the King; and the Cornish infantry were available for service elsewhere: they were accordingly re-inforced by a body of cavalry under Prince Maurice, and the combined troops met at Chard. Clarendon pauses to praise the loyal spirit evinced by the Cornishmen, who, notwithstanding their late gallant victories, now found themselves—both officers and men—overshadowed by the superior military rank allotted to their new associates. Nor were they less remarkable for their discipline and conduct. 'The Chief Commanders of the Cornish army,' says the great historian, 'had restrained their soldiers from all manner of licence, obliging them to frequent acts of devotion; insomuch that the fame of their religion and discipline was no less than of their courage.'

A junction with the King's troops at Oxford was the next object of the Royalists in the west; and they accordingly advanced through Taunton and Bridgewater upon Wells, where they fell upon the advanced guard of Waller's forces, which they routed and drove back upon Bath. Here the Parliamentarian General awaited, upon Lansdowne Hill, the advance of the victorious and elated troops of the King. We cannot do better than once again listen to the tale of the fight as told in Clarendon's own words:

'It was upon the 5th of July, 1643, when Sir Wm. Waller, as soon as it was light, possessed himself of that hill; and after he had upon the brow of the hill, over the highway, raised breast-works with faggots and earth, and planted cannon there, he sent a strong party of horse towards Marsfield; which quickly alarmed the other army, and was shortly driven back to their body. As great a mind as the King's forces had to cope with the enemy, when they had drawn into battalion, and found the enemy fixed on the top of the hill, they resolved not to attack them upon so great disadvantage, and so retired again towards their old quarters: which Sir Wm. Waller perceiving, sent his whole body of horse and dragoons down the hill, to charge the rear and flank of the King's forces; which they did thoroughly, the regiment of cuirassiers so amazing the horse they charged, that they totally routed them; and, standing firm and unshaken themselves, gave so great terror to the King's horse, who had never before turned from an enemy, that no example of their officers, who did their parts with invincible courage, could make them charge with the same confidence, and in the same manner they had usually done. However, in the end, after Sir Nicholas Slanning, with 300 musqueteers, had fallen upon, and beaten their reserve of dragooners, Prince Maurice, and the Earl of Carnarvon, rallying their horse, and winging them with the Cornish musqueteers, charged the enemy's horse again, and totally routed them; and in the same manner received two bodies more, and routed and chased them to the hill; where they stood in a place almost inaccessible. On the brow of the hill there were breast-works, on which were pretty bodies of small shot, and some cannon; on either flank grew a pretty thick wood towards the declining of the hill, in which strong parties of musqueteers were placed; at the rear was a very fair plain, where the reserves of horse and foot stood ranged, yet the Cornish foot were so far from being appalled at this disadvantage, that they desired to fall on, and cried out "That they might have leave to fetch off those cannon."[29] In the end order was given to attempt the hill with horse and foot. 'Two strong parties of musqueteers were sent into the woods, which flanked the enemy; and the horse and other musqueteers up the roadway, which were charged by the enemy's horse and routed; then Sir Bevil Grenville advanced with a party of horse on his right hand, that ground being best for them, and his musqueteers on his left, himself leading up his pikes in the middle; and in the face of their cannon, and small shot from the breast-works, gained the brow of the hill, having sustained two full charges of the enemy's horse; but in the third charge his horse failing, and giving ground, he received, after other wounds, a blow on the head with a poll-axe, with which he fell, and many of his officers about him;[30] yet the musqueteers fired so fast on the enemy's horse, that they quitted their ground, and the two wings who were sent to clear the woods, having done their work, and gained those parts of the hill, at the same time beat off their enemy's foot, and became possessed of the breast-works, and so made way for their whole body of horse, foot, and cannon, to ascend the hill, which they quickly did, and planted themselves on the ground they had won; the enemy retiring about demy-culverin shot, behind a stone wall upon the same level, and standing in reasonable good order.

'Either party was sufficiently tired and battered, to be contented to stand still. The King's horse were so shaken, that of 2000 which were upon the field in the morning, there were not above 600 on the top of the hill; so that, exchanging only some shot from their ordnance, they looked upon one another till the night interposed. About twelve of the clock, the night being very dark, the enemy made a show of moving towards the ground they had lost; but giving a smart volly of small shot, and finding themselves answered with the like, they made no more noise; which the Prince observing, he sent a common soldier to hearken as near the place where they were, as he could; who brought word, That the enemy had left lighted matches in the wall behind which they had lain, and were drawn off the field; which was true; so that as soon as it was day, the King's army found themselves possessed entirely of the field, and the dead, and all other ensigns of victory: Sir Wm. Waller being marched into Bath, in so much disorder and apprehension, that he had left great store of arms, and ten barrels of powder, behind him, which was a very seasonable supply to the other side, who had spent in that day's service no less than four score barrels, and had not a safe proportion left.'

It is believed in the West that Sir Bevill was attended at the Battle of Lansdowne by one of his servants from Stow—Anthony Paine, the Cornish Giant, of whom Mr. Stokes tells us that

'His sword was made to match his size,
As Roundheads did remember;
And when it swung 'twas like the whirl
Of windmills in September.'

And there is a further tradition that, on seeing his master fall, Anthony at once clapped John Grenville (afterwards first Earl of Bath), then a youth of sixteen, on his father's steed in order to prevent the Royalist troops from being discouraged. Anthony measured, so it is said, seven feet two inches in height. He was present, not only at Lansdowne, but at the fight on Stamford Hill, and remained on the field that night to assist in burying the dead, after his master had returned home to Stow. At the 'Tree' Inn, Stratton (said to have been the headquarters of the Royalists on the night preceding that battle), the hole in the ceiling is still shown through which, years afterwards, the corpse of poor Anthony was removed from the room in which he died—his coffin being too long to be taken out of the window or down the stairs in the usual way.

Thus did the worthy retainer write to his mistress on the terrible day of Lansdowne fight; at least so Mr. Hawker assures us:

'Honored Madam. Ill news flieth apace. The heavy tidings no doubt hath already traveled to Stow that we have lost our blessed master by the enemy's advantage. You must not, dear lady, grieve too much for your noble spouse. You know, as we all believe, that his soul was in heaven before his bones were cold. He fell, as he did often tell us he wished to die, in the great Stewart cause, for his Country and his King. He delivered to me his last commands, and with such tender words for you and for his children as are not to be set down with my poor pen, but must come to your ears upon my best heart's breath. Master John, when I mounted him upon his father's horse, rode him into the war like a young prince, as he is, and our men followed him with their swords drawn and with tears in their eyes. They did say they would kill a rebel for every hair of Sir Bevill's beard. But I bade them remember their good master's word when he wiped his sword after Stamford fight: how he said, when their cry was "Stab and slay!"—"Halt, men! God will avenge." I am coming down with the mournfullest load that ever a poor servant did bear, to bring the great heart that is cold to Kilkhampton vault. O! my lady, how shall I ever brook your weeping face? But I will be trothful to the living and to the dead.

'These, honoured Madam, from thy saddest, truest Servant,

'Anthony Payne.'

Anthony was, at the Restoration made 'Halberdier of the Guns' at Plymouth Citadel, and Sir Godfrey Kneller was commissioned by the King to paint Anthony's portrait. It was engraved as a frontispiece to the 1st vol. of C. S. Gilbert's 'History of Cornwall,' and the picture itself was afterwards sold for £800. And here it may perhaps be added that at the siege of Plymouth another Cornish man, John Langherne, of Tregavethan, of huge strength and stature, being seven feet six inches high, 'Rid up,' as Tonkin tells us, 'to one of the gates of the Town, and stuck his sword in it so deep that two strong men could not possibly pull it out.'—(Borlase's Additional MSS.)

It is gratifying to learn that the Cornishmen demeaned themselves so well at Lansdowne; but the victory was far too dearly bought. Clarendon goes on to say:

'In this battle, on the King's part, there were more officers and gentlemen of quality slain, than common men; and more hurt than slain. That which would have clouded any victory, and made the loss of others less spoken of, was the death of Sir Bevil Grenville. He was indeed an excellent person, whose activity, interest, and reputation was the foundation of what had been done in Cornwall; and his temper and affection so publick, that no accident which happened could make any impressions in him; and his example kept others from taking anything ill, or at least seeming to do so. In a word, a brighter courage, and a gentler disposition, were never married together to make the most chearful and innocent conversation.' 'Clarendon's immortals,' says Forster, 'still lie unwithered' on Sir Bevill's grave.

A monument, erected by his grandson George Lord Lansdowne, marks the spot where our hero fell.[31] On the north side of the monument was inscribed:

'Conquest or death was all his thought, so fire
Either o'ercomes, or does itself expire.
His courage work'd like flames, cast heat about,
Here, there, on this, on that side, none gave out;
Nor any pike in that renowned stand,
But took new force from his inspiring hand.
Soldier encourag'd soldier, man urg'd man,
And he urg'd all, so much example can.
Hurt upon hurt, wound upon wound did call,
He was the mark, the butt, the aim of all;
His soul this while retired from cell to cell,
At last flew up from all, and then he fell;
But the devoted stand enrag'd the more
From that his fate, played hotter than before;
And proud to fall with him, sworn not to yield,
Each sought an honour'd grave, and won the field,
Thus he being fall'n, his actions fought anew
And the dead conquer'd, whilst the living flew.'

The remaining lines are those quoted as Sir Bevill's epitaph on the fine monument to his memory,[32] and to that of the great Sir Richard, at the old Church of Kilkhampton, where both of them must have often worshipped. The epitaph runs as follows:

'To the immortal memory of his renowned grandfather this monument was erected by the Right Honorable George, Lord Lansdowne, Treasurer of the Household to Queen Anne, and one of her Majesty's Most Honorable Privy Council, &c., in the year 1714.

'Thus slain thy valiant ancestor did lye,
When his one bark a navy did defy,
When now encompass'd round the victor stood,
And bath'd his pinnace in his conquering blood,
Till, all his purple current dried and spent,
He fell, and made the waves his monument.
Where shall the next famed Grenville's ashes stand?
Thy grandsire fills the seas, and thou the land.

'Martin Llewellyn.'

(Vide also Oxford University Verses, printed 1643.)

Mrs. Delany has stated that Sir Bevill had the patent for an Earldom in his pocket on the day of the fatal fight at Lansdowne; and in this there seems nothing improbable, as his youngest daughter, Joan, or Johanna, had a patent of precedence as an Earl's daughter.

We have seen something of Sir Bevill's epistolary productions; and, if we are to accept the testimony of the Rev. S. Baring-Gould, the writer of the biography of the Rev. R. S. Hawker, some specimens of Lady Grace's were preserved under the following singular circumstances:

One day, he tells us, Mrs. Hawker, the first wife of the Vicar of Morwenstow, when lunching at Stow in the farmhouse, noticed that a letter in old handwriting was wrapped round the mutton bone that was brought on the table. Moved by curiosity, she took the paper off, and showed it to Mr. Hawker. On examination it was found that the letter bore the signature of Sir Bevill Grenville. Mr. Hawker at once instituted inquiries, and found a large chest full of letters of different members of the Grenville family in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. He at once communicated with Lord Carteret, owner of Stow, and the papers were removed, but by some unfortunate accident they were lost! The only ones saved were a packet removed from the chest by Mr. Davis, Rector of Kilkhampton, previous to their being sent away from Stow. These were copied by Miss Manning, of Eastaway, in Morwenstowe, and her transcript, together with some of the originals, was said to be in the possession of Ezekiel Rous, Esq., of Bideford.

The following, from Lady Grace to her husband, was probably another of the letters in the collection said to have been found by Mr. Hawker, and afterwards so mysteriously lost.

'For My Best Friend, Sir Bevill Grenville.

'My ever Dearest,

'I have received yours from Salisbury, and am glad to hear you came so farr well, with poore Jack. Ye shall be sure of my prairs, which is the best service I can doe you. I canott perceave whither you had receaved mine by Tom, or no, but I believe by this time you have mett that and another since by the post. Truly I have been out of frame ever since you went, not with a cough, but in another kinde, much indisposed. However, I have striven with it, and was at Church last Sunday, but not the former. I have been vexed with diverse demands made of money than I could satisfie, but I instantly paid what you sent, and have intreated Mr. Rous his patience a while longer, as you directed.

'It grieves me to think how chargeable your family is, considering your occasion. It hath this many years troubled me to think to what passe it must come at last, if it run on after this course. How many times what hath appeared hopefull, and yet proved contrary in the conclusion, hath befalen us, I am loth to urge, because tis farr from my desire to disturbe your thoughts; but this sore is not to be curd with silence, or patience either, and while you are loth to discourse or thinke of that you can take little comfort to see how bad it is, and I was unwilling to strike on that string which sounds harsh in your eare (the matter still grows worse, though). I can never putt it out of my thoughts, and that makes me often times seeme dreaming to you, when you expect I should sometimes observe more complement with my frends, or be more active in matters of curiousity in our House, which doubtlesse you would have been better pleasd with had I been capable to have performd it, and I believe though I had a naturall dullness in me, it would never so much have appeard to my prejudice, but twas increasd by a continuance of sundry disasters, which I still mett with, yet never till this yeare, but I had some strength to encounter them, and truly now I am soe cleane overcome, as tis in vaine to deny a truth. It seems to me now tis high time to be sensible that God is displeased, having had many sad remembrances in our estate and children late, yet God spard us in our children long, and when I strive to follow your advice in moderating my grieffe (which I praise God) I have thus farr been able to doe as not to repine at God's will, though I have a tender sence of griefe which hangs on me still, and I think it as dangerous and improper to forgett it, for I cannott but think it was a neer touched correction, sent from God to check me for my many neglects of my duty to God. It was the tenth and last plague God smote the Egyptians with, the deathe of their first borne, before he utterly destroyed them, they persisting in their disobedience notwithstanding all their former punishments. This apprehension makes me both tremble and humbly beseech Him to withdraw His punishments from us, and to give us grace to know and amend whatever is amisse. Now I have pourd out my sad thoughts which in your absence doth most oppresse me, and tis my weakness hardly to be able to say thus much unto you, how brimfull soever my heart be, though oftentimes I heartely wish I could open my heart truly unto you when tis overchargd. But the least thought it may not be pleasing to you will at all times restraine me. Consider me rightly, I beseech you, and excuse, I pray, the liberty I take with my pen in this kinde. And now at last I must thanke you for wishing me to lay aside all feare, and depend on the Almighty, who can only helpe us; for his mercy I daily pray, and your welfare, and our poore boys; so I conclude, and am ever your faithfully and only

'Grace Grenville.

'Stow, Nov. 23, 1641.'

'I sent yours to Mr. Prust, but this from him came after mine was gone last weeke. Ching is gone to Cheddar. I looke for Bawden, but as yet is not come. Sir Rob. Bassett is dead.

'I heard from my cosen Grace Weekes, who writes that Mr. Luttrell says if you could meete the liking between the young people, he will not stand for money you shall finde. Parson Weekes wishes you would call with him, and that he might entice you to take the Castle in your way downe. She says they enquire in the most courteous maner that can be imagind. Deare love, thinke how to farther this what you can.'

The following is said to have been an earlier letter by many years, written when Grace was a wife of six years' standing:

'Sweet Mr. Grenvile,

'I cannott let Mr. Oliver passe without a line though it be only to give you thankes for yours, which I have receaved. I will in all things observe your directions as neer as I can, and because I have not time to say much now I will write againe tomorrow ( ... something torn away) and think you shall receave advertizment concerning us much as you desyre. I can not say I am well, neither have I bin so since I saw you, but, however, I will pray for your health, and good successe in all businesses, and pray be so kinde as to love her who takes no comfort in anything but you, and will remayne yours ever and only

'Grace Grenvile.

'Fryday night, Nov. 13, 1629.'

The superscription of this letter is:

'To my ever dearest and best Friend, Mr. Bevill Grenvile, at the Rainbow, in Fleet Street.'

The other letters in this collection—alleged to have been so strangely discovered—will be found enumerated in the Appendix to Mr. Gould's 'Life of Hawker.'

There are many portraits of Sir Bevill Grenville. One is in Prince's 'Worthies of Devon;' another in Lloyd's 'Worthies;' and one, by Dobson, is in the fine collection at Petworth Park. Here also is a group described as Sir Bevill Grenville, Anne St. Leger (his grandmother!) and John Earl of Bath, their son—after Vandyck.

What can be added to such tributes as those which we have just read but that, in Sir Bevill Grenville's case at least, 'the good was not interred with his bones;'[33] his valiant spirit continued to animate his friends and followers, and prompted their valour on Roundway Down, at the siege of Bristol, and—when one of the last gleams of success shone upon the Royal cause—when Essex's infantry surrendered to the King in person, at Fowey. On the latter occasion Sir Richard, brother of Sir Bevill, held and fortified Hall House, on the eastern side of the harbour, for the King: he had previously captured Restormel Castle near Lostwithiel.

Then there soon came a time when, as Macaulay says, England had to witness spectacles such as these: 'Major-Generals fleecing their districts—soldiers revelling on the spoils of a ruined peasantry—upstarts, enriched by the public plunder, taking possession of the hospitable firesides and hereditary trees of the old gentry—boys smashing the beautiful windows of cathedrals—Fifth-Monarchy men shouting for King Jesus—Quakers riding naked through the market-place—and agitators lecturing from tubs on the fate of Agag.'

'Where,' asked Dr. Llewellyn, the Principal of St. Mary Hall, Oxford, in the stilted style of the day in which he wrote:

'Where shall next famous Grenvil's ashes stand?
Thy grandsire fills the sea—and thou the land.'

The answer to which question must be that the next famous Grenville—Sir Bevill's eldest son, Sir John—was destined to become a conspicuous figure in the field of Diplomacy. He even attained to a higher rank than his father, soon after the Stuart cause became once more triumphant. Leaving Gloucester Hall, Oxford,—where he was a Gentleman Commoner,—when only fifteen years of age, he commanded his father's regiment in the west; and at the second battle of Newbury (to which he brought his Cornish troops) he was wounded, and left for dead on the field. He had received a dangerous wound in the head from a halberd, and was carried to the King and Prince of Wales, who ordered him to be taken care of in Donnington Castle hard by. The Castle was soon after besieged, and the bullets constantly whistled through his sick-room; but the boy-warrior at last came safely off. When the Scilly Isles revolted from the Parliament and became the last rallying-point of the Royalists, he it was who (like one of his ancestors) was made Governor, for the King—taking up his quarters at Elizabeth Castle on St. Mary's Island. But the Parliamentary Admirals, Blake and Ayscough, appeared before Scilly with so overwhelming a force, that Sir John Grenville thought it best to capitulate; extorting, however, such favourable terms that, until Blake represented to what an extent his own honour was involved in their confirmation, the Parliament refused to recognise them. It is said that Sir John had with him commissioned officers enough to 'head an army.'

Sir John Grenville, although he now returned quietly to Stow, was by no means unmindful of his royal master, and soon opened negotiations with his cousin George Monk (afterwards Duke of Albemarle), who became the well known chief instrument in the restoration of Charles II. A brother of Monk's (afterwards Bishop of Hereford), who was at this time in Cornwall, having been appointed by the Grenvilles to the living of Kilkhampton, seems to have been the medium of this dangerous intercourse; but our Sir John managed matters with such loyalty, courage, and discretion, that all ultimately went well for the Royal cause.[34] He had at one time accompanied Charles into exile, and was one of the Commissioners, known as the 'Sealed Knot' from their secrecy, appointed to conduct the affairs of the King in England during his absence; and though Sir John Grenville could not obtain from Monk (who was determined upon being supreme in the transaction) the stipulations which even Charles's most loyal friends thought desirable for the future, events proved that it would have been well if more weight had been attached to the suggestions of the sagacious Cornish Knight and his colleagues. So highly, however, were his fidelity and wisdom esteemed, that he was selected to present to Parliament the King's proposals from Breda: an office which he discharged with such efficiency as to obtain the thanks of both Houses, and a jewel worth £500, as well as a ring worth £300 from the Common Council, for his services at this important crisis. (Cf. also Thurloe's 'State Papers,' Grammont's 'Memoirs,' Clarendon's Correspondence and Diary, and Dr. John Price's 'Mystery and Method of His Majesty's Happy Restoration,' dedicated to the Earl of Bath.) Pepys describes the circumstances, and tells us how, on 2nd March, 1660, Parliament continued bareheaded whilst the King's letter was being read.[35]

The favours of royalty were also showered upon Grenville—though Charles II. was apt to be unmindful of his friends in the past—and Sir John was made a Secretary of State, and was created Lord Grenville, of Kilkhampton and Bytheford, Viscount Grenville of Lansdowne, and Earl of Bath; with a pension of £3,000 a year to be paid out of the Stannaries, of which he was made Lord Warden, and a reversion to the Dukedom of Albemarle. He also received the Royal Licence to use his titles of Earl of Corboile, Thorigny, and Granville. Of the architectural merits of his 'new house' at Stow, built for him, it is said, by the King, Kingsley writes in disparaging terms, as we have seen. He married Jane, the daughter of Sir Peter Wiche or Wych, by whom he left a noble offspring. The eldest son, Charles, second Earl of Bath, died in 1701,—twelve days after his father; the second son, John, who was created Baron Grenville of Potheridge in 1703, died in 1707; and the male line became extinct on the death, from small-pox, of his son William Henry, third Earl of Bath, in 1771.

James II., however, seems to have shown the Earl of Bath—who was a staunch Protestant—little favour. So Grenville declared for the Prince of Orange; and, having first seized Plymouth citadel, admitted the Dutch fleet into that harbour; his nephew Bevill performing a similar service with his uncle's own regiment at Jersey. King William III. consequently created him a member of his Privy Council, and continued him in his previous offices.

The Earl's eldest son, Charles, was accidentally killed by the discharge of a pistol at his father's funeral; and the title consequently devolved upon his son William Henry, thus giving rise to the observation that at one time there were 'three Earls of Bath above ground at the same time.' From the first Earl descended, in the female line, the present representatives of the family—the Thynnes, not unknown to fame.

And Sir Bevill had another son, Dennis, who was by no means undistinguished in his own walk of life. Born in 1636/7, and educated probably at Eton,[36] he was entered a Gentleman Commoner of Exeter College, Oxford, on 22nd Sept., 1657; took his degree of M.A. on 28th Sept., 1660, and that of D.D. on 20th Dec, 1670. Kilkhampton was his first preferment, though he does not appear to have taken up residence there. He was Chaplain in Ordinary to Charles II.; and in 1684 was made Archdeacon and Dean of Durham. But he was a true Grenville in his attachment to the Stuarts; and early in 1690 went into exile with James II., residing at Corbeil, in France (near the place whence his family are supposed to have sprung), rather than acknowledge William III. as his sovereign. He left several works behind him, and died in Paris in 1703.

There are many incidents, however, connected with his career which seem to require a fuller notice of the Cavalier Dean. The command, 'Fear God,' scarcely commended itself more forcibly to his conscience than its complement 'Honour the King;' and, although he was in a very small minority, his high-minded consistency and loyalty were such, that, whatever we may think of his prudence, or of the practicability of his views, we are bound, I think, to honour the man who chose rather to sacrifice the highest preferments than to swear allegiance to one whom he, at least, regarded as an invader and a usurper.

There are full details of the latter part of his career preserved in the library of the Dean and Chapter of Durham, from which I have gathered most of the following accounts.

He married Ann, daughter of Bishop Cosin (an unhappy union, for her husband—and two physicians confirmed his statement—alleged that the lady was subject to fits of temporary insanity), at a time when the Church of England was in sad disorder, and when vigorous, earnest spirits were wanted to remedy the listless slovenliness of many of her clergy.

Dennis Grenville was equal to the trying occasion. He found that the Church services were often either curtailed or omitted altogether; many of the churches were 'altogether unprovided of ministers'; and the fabrics themselves were 'ruinous and in great decay.' Not only the minor Canons and singing men, but even many of the highest dignitaries were guilty, according to Cosin,[37] of sluttish and disorderly habits, even in the cathedrals themselves; and the Rubrics and Canons were almost ignored. But, as Parish Priest, as Prebendary, and as Archdeacon, and afterwards, especially in securing a weekly celebration of the Holy Communion in his own cathedral, Dennis Grenville laboured so earnestly and so conscientiously, as to warrant his promotion, young as he was, to the post of Dean.

His rapid advancement, however, seems to have almost turned his head; he became ambitious and extravagant, was frequently absent from his post, and fell into pecuniary troubles (aggravated by the non-payment of an expected marriage portion with his wife) which, almost to the last, hung like a millstone round his neck. On the 8th of July, 1674, on returning from public prayers and Captain Foster's funeral, he was actually arrested 'in his Hood and Surplice' for debt, within the cloisters; and although he was afterwards released as a Chaplain in Ordinary of the King, and though the bailiffs and the Under Sheriff who were responsible for his arrest were reprimanded before the Council Board at Hampton Court, yet the indignity seems to have entered into the Dean's very soul, producing, however, more than one good result, viz. the more economical management of his resources, and salutary counsels to his nephew at Oxford, published in 1685. He was a capital preacher, but a bad man of business: '"I cannot manage nor mind these money affairs," is his own candid confession,' observes the Rev. George Ormsby, in his interesting memoir.

Of the Dean's management of his own household full details are preserved; they will probably be found interesting here as showing how a Church dignitary lived two hundred years ago: one who was always at work on the scheme of reformation to which he had laid his hands, and who seems to have taken for his model George Herbert's 'Country Parson.' This book he recommended to his curates, and to all the clergy in his jurisdiction, 'for their rule and direction in order to the exemplary discharge of their functions, having always made it mine.' The Diocese of Durham, under such auspices as those of Cosin and Grenville, (notwithstanding the incapacity of the latter to properly manage his money affairs,) accordingly improved rapidly in tone, until the Dean was at length able to report to the King that it was 'without dispute the most exemplary county for good order and conformity of any in the nation.'

These, then, were amongst Dean Grenville's thirty-two Home Rules:

'1. That all persons should labour to contrive their businesse soe as to be present at God's service in the Church, as often as possible, not only on publick daies but private ones; never staying at home (any one) but in cases of infirmity, or of some necessary lawfull impediment.'

'3. That as soon as the bells of the Church begin to ring or toll, all persons who intend to goe to the Church at that time shall begin to put themselves in readinesse, and wait for mee in the parlour and the hall, that they may all goe forth with mee at the same time (for which purpose there shall be given one toll of my House bell) and accompany mee to the Church, not dropping in one after another after service is begun.'

'5. That all persons of my family shall carry their Bibles and Common Prayer-books to the Church with them, and use them in the performance of the Service and Lessons.

'6. That when I keep daily labourers in the summer time, or have any number of servants imployed without doores, that must goe to their worke abroad, before the houre of morning prayers, that they repaire to my house, and have some short prayers in my hall at five of the clock, or at such houre and in such manner as I shall appoint.'

'11. That in case the worke and imployment of my house bee too much to bee dispatched in the forenoon or before Evening Prayers on such daies, I doe allow of the hiring one, two or three women for the spedier dispatch of the same.

'12. That I allow all my domesticks some time every day for private prayer and reading of the Scriptures (nay, doe in the Name of God injoyne every person to imploy some to that purpose), and that every person may have some reasonable time and liberty for devotion, and not be oppressed with too much businesse, I am willing to keep a servant or two more than would bee other wise necessary.'

'14. That all persons playing at any game (tho' they are in the middle of a game) shall breake it off and cease their play, soe soon as the bell tolls for prayers, either in church or chaple, or as soon as the Butler appears with the things to lay the cloth for dinner or supper.

'15. That there shall bee noe playing in my family at any game on the Vigills and other fasting daies of the Church, nor on Fridaies and Saturdaies (unlesse within the 12 daies of Christmasse), but that what time shall be gained from necessary businesse bee better imployed in devotion, reading, good conference or the like.

'16. That to the former end and purpose I doe order my chesseboard, bowles, and all other things relating to such games (as I doe allow) to be locked up on Thursday night till Monday morning, as alsoe on other daies before mentioned.

'17. That I allow of noe great game for any considerable summe to bee played in my family, nor indeed of any at all when my poor box is forgotten, which I doe recommend more earnestly than my Butler's.

'18. That at nine o'clock, our family prayers being ended, all persons shall repair to their chambers; and are desired to dismisse the servants soe soon as possible, that they may put the house in order, and go to their beds near ten of the clock or by eleven at farthest....'

'20. That my house bell be rung every morning at 5 in the winter, and about 4 in the summer to awaken my family, and alarume my servants to arise, and to give opportunity and incouragement to early risers, who are alwaies the most welcome persons to my family.'

'25. That there shall bee no dinners on Wednesdaies and Fridaies in Lent.'

* * * * *

But James II.'s 'Second Declaration of Indulgence,' 7th April, 1688, an attempt to divide the Protestant party, and to secure the favour of the Non-conformists after having failed to seduce from their allegiance the leaders of the Church of England, placed the Dean in a most trying position. His loyalty to his Church was in conflict with his loyalty to his Sovereign; and the latter prevailed: 'If the King goes beyond his Commission, he must answer for it to God, but I'le not deface one line thereof. Let my liege and dread Sovereign intend to do what he pleases to me or mine: yet my hand shall never be upon him, so much as to cut off the skirt of his garment.' Not only (to the Dean's intense grief) did his elder brother, the Earl of Bath, now desert the Stuart cause, but another Cornish Church dignitary of this period—Bishop Jonathan Trelawney—took the bolder course of opposing the King's views, thus exemplifying the old Cornish saying that a Trelawny never wanted courage, nor a Grenville loyalty. It is needless to repeat that the Dean of Durham found himself in a very small minority.

His loyalty was about to undergo another and a severer test. In the autumn of 1688 news arrived of the projected 'invasion and usurpation,' as our Dean would always call it, of the Prince of Orange: at once he summoned his Chapter, prevailed upon them to assist the King's cause 'with their purses as well as their prayers,' and £700 were accordingly subscribed forthwith. But Lord Lumley pounced upon Durham on the 6th of December in that year, whilst the Dean was in his pulpit preaching a sermon, still preserved in the Surtees Collection, on 'Christian Resignation and Resolution, with some loyal reflexions on the Dutch Invasion'; and Dr. Grenville was, on his refusal to deliver up his arms and horses, confined within the walls of his own Deanery during the occupation of the city by the friends of King William III. Another similar sermon, however, did he, with undaunted courage, preach on the following Sunday, notwithstanding his now almost solitary position amongst his brother clergy. But James's cause was entirely lost; and our Dean had to fly from Durham to Carlisle at midnight on the 11th of December, with the help of two faithful servants. At Carlisle he learned that all was over, and made up his mind to follow his King into France, if only he could make good his escape by way of Edinburgh. On his way thither he was roughly handled by a mob, who took him for a Popish priest and Jesuit, and at eleven at night 'pulled me out of my bed, rifling my pockets and my chamber, and carrying away my horses (two geldings worth £40) and my portmantoe, and mounting me on a little jade not worth 40s.' Once more he was plundered on the road, and returned to Carlisle, where he preached on Christmas Day, when he says he hoped that he convinced the people that he was no Romanist.

In the following month, however, he made another attempt—this time successfully—to reach Edinburgh; and after a long and tedious voyage, arrived at Honfleur on the 19th March—the very day after James had left Brest for Ireland, 'a great mortification and disappointment to mee,' adds Dean Grenville. Rouen was the place which he had fixed upon for his abode, and thither he removed a few days afterwards, forthwith setting about writing remonstrances to his Bishop, his brother, and his 'lapsed assistants,' his Curates; printing his sermons, to which reference has just been made, and also his 'Loyall farewell Visitation Speech,' delivered on 15th November, 1688.[38]

Little remains to be told of him, but that he was formally deprived on the appointed date of 1st February, 1690/1, and his goods and chattels were distrained by the Sheriff, in consequence of his continued pecuniary embarrassments; his library, also, which was very rich in Bibles and Prayer-books, was purchased by Sir George Wheeler; and the Chapter had to grant the unhappy Mrs. Grenville an allowance of £80 a year 'in compassion to her necessities.' She died twelve years before her husband, and was buried in Durham Cathedral.

Nor did James, to whose Court at St. Germains Dennis Grenville shortly afterwards repaired, by any means console his faithful servant for the troubles and trials he had undergone in his King's behalf. 'He was slighted,' says Surtees, in his 'History of Durham,' 'by the bigoted Prince, for whom he had forfeited every worldly possession, because he would not also abandon his religion.'[39] In fact, the Dean was at length compelled to retire from the Court to Corbeil, his ancestral home, about twenty miles from Paris, in consequence of the indignities heaped upon him there by his ecclesiastical opponents, and by their persistent, though vain, attempts to draw him into polemical discussions. Whilst in France, he sometimes went by the name of Corbeil—sometimes by the name of Stotherd; and here it may be added, that Mr. H. R. Fox Bourne, in his 'Life of John Locke,' mentions that the illustrious metaphysician and Dean Grenville were old friends, and that they corresponded in 1677-78 on the subjects of Recreation and Scrupulosity. Copies of the letters are in the British Museum, Additional MSS. 4290. Mr. Bourne states that James II. actually appointed Dean Grenville Roman Catholic Archbishop of York.[40]

Two furtive journeys did he make to England, in disguise—one in February, 1689-90, 'whereby he got a small sum of money to subsist while abroad ... tho' with much trouble and danger occasioned him by an impertinent and malitious post master, who discovered him in Canterbury;' and once again in 1695, probably with the same object. In 1702 he wrote an amusing letter to his nephew, Sir George Wheeler, acknowledging 'a seasonable supply' of £20, from which it may be gathered that he preserved to the last his unbroken and cheerful spirit. But, in the following year, on Wednesday, the 8th April, 1703, at six in the morning, the exiled, supplanted, and childless Dean of Durham died—as he asserts, himself, in the preamble of his will—a true son of the Church of England, at his lodgings at the Fossée St. Victoire, in Paris, in the sixty-seventh year of his age.

His portrait, admirably engraved by Edelinck, was painted by Beaupoille when Dean Grenville was fifty-four years of age; a print of it is prefixed to the copy of his 'Farewell Sermons' preserved in the Bodleian Library, and there is another copy in the British Museum. His character may almost be gathered from what we have seen of his life and works; and it should be added that he was not only of good natural abilities, but also no mean scholar. His kinsman, Lord Lansdowne, may have drawn a somewhat too eulogistic account of the Dean; but, overshadowed as his fame undoubtedly is by the greater names of his ancestors, Sir Richard and Sir Bevill, it should never be forgotten that he was an energetic reformer, in very difficult times, of the Church and the clergy;—though, as he says, 'his religion and loyalty were not of the new cutt, but of the old royall stamp;'—yet he was the friend of such men as Beveridge and Comber—and, above all, it should be remembered that, whatever we may think of his judgment, he undoubtedly performed that rare act of moral heroism, the sacrifice of his dignities and honours, his ample revenues, all the comforts of his native land, and, in fact, all his worldly interests, to his conscience.

Well might it have been said of Dennis Grenville that his

'Loyalty was still the same
Whether it won or lost the game;
True as the dial to the sun,
Altho' it be not shone upon;'

and truly might he have exclaimed, whilst in exile and poverty paying the penalty of his loyal attachment to the House of Stuart, in the words of one of the Roxburgh Ballads:

'Then hang up sorrow and care,
It never shall make me rue;
What though my back goes bare?
I'm ragged and torn and true.'

He wrote to his elder brother—the Earl of Bath—a reproachful letter, in November, 1689, wherein he says, evidently hoping against hope, that nothing 'shall convince him that it is possible for one descended from his dear loyall father Sir Bevill Grenville to dye a rebell;' but I confess that the sentiment of Dean Grenville's which I prefer treasuring in my own memory, is the noble and tolerant one with which he concludes his 'Third Speech' to his clergy:

'My fourth and last counsell is, to be just to all men, both to the Romanist and Dissenter. That your aversion to the doctrine of any party (tho' never soe contrary to your owne) should not, in any manner, exceed youer love and concerne for the Religion you profess.'[41]

To one more only of the Grenvilles does it seem necessary to refer, as with him the connexion of that illustrious family with Cornwall ceases: viz., to George Baron Lansdowne, the poet, who was a nephew of the Dean and a grandson of Sir Bevill. His father's as well as his brother's name was Bernard. It is true that he did not live at Stow, which, as we have seen, was no longer the family mansion; but he comes within our scope: for, in a defence of his grand-uncle, Sir Richard ('Skellum') against some anonymous author who took the side of the Parliament, I find him writing thus: 'Like an old staunch Cornishman I tell you that we, who had before beaten two of your generals into the sea, might as well have beaten the third:' and again, in a letter, in 1718, to his 'dearest niece,' Mrs. Delany, he calls Cornwall 'his country.'

He was entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1667, and was about the Court of James II., much smitten, it was said, with the charms of his Queen, Mary of Modena—the Myra, in all probability, of some of his amatory lines. He wrote both poems and plays, many passages in which are of a somewhat licentious character: amongst the plays are the 'British Enchanters' (for which Addison wrote the Epilogue); the 'She Gallants, or once a Lover always a Lover;' and the 'Jew of Venice,' imitated from Shakespeare. He was Member of Parliament successively for Fowey, Lostwithiel, Helston, and finally for the county of Cornwall itself; and was at length made by Queen Anne a Privy Councillor, and Treasurer of the Household, but, on some silly suspicion of plotting against the Government, was, in 1715, committed to the Tower, from which place of confinement, however, he was shortly released. In 1722, his affairs becoming embarrassed through his somewhat extravagant mode of life, he went abroad to retrench his expenses; and, returning to England, died at his house in Hanover Square on the 30th January, 1735. He had married the widow of Thomas Thynne,[42] and was celebrated for his tender devotion to his family.

A curious story about his remains is told in Lady Llanover's 'Life of Mrs. Delany.' No tomb or tablet of any kind marks (in St. Clement Danes Church) the site of their sepulchre; and when inquiries on this point were made in 1859, it was found that a short time previous to that date an order to close a vault under the Church had been put in force. The coffins in the vault were placed in the centre of the chamber, a quantity of quicklime was thrown in, and the whole then filled with rubbish. There were two bodies in the vault which had always been called 'My Lord and my Lady,' and which were in extraordinary preservation. They were not skeletons, although the skin was much dried, and they were very light; they were set upright against the wall, and it had always been the custom whenever a new clerk was appointed, to take him down into the vault and introduce him to 'My Lord and my Lady.' It seems not at all improbable that these were the corpses of Lord and Lady Lansdowne; and that their remarkable preservation was due to their having been embalmed. Lord Lansdowne's portrait may be seen in the 'Life of Mrs. Delany,' vol. i., p. 418. She says of him: 'No man had more the art of winning the affections where he wished to oblige ... he was magnificent in his nature, and valued no expense that would gratify it, which in the end hurt him and his family extremely.'

Of his character, as a man and as a poet, Anderson thus writes in his 'Poets of Great Britain:'

'The character of Granville seems to have been amiable and respectable. His good nature and politeness have been celebrated by Pope, and many other poets of the first eminence. The lustre of his rank no doubt procured him more incense than the force of his genius would otherwise have attracted; but he appears not to have been destitute of fine parts, which were, however, rather elegantly polished than great in themselves.

'There is perhaps nothing more interesting in his character than the veneration he had for some, and the tenderness he had for all of his family. Of the former his historical performances afford some pleasing proof; of the latter, there are extant two letters, one to his cousin, the last Earl of Bath, and the other to his cousin, Mr. Bevil Granville, on his entering into holy orders, written with a tenderness, a freedom, and an honesty which render them invaluable.

'The general character of his poetry is elegance, sprightliness and dignity. He is seldom tender, and very rarely sublime. In his smaller pieces he endeavours to be gay, in his larger to be great. Of his airy and light productions the chief source is gallantry, and the chief defect a superabundance of sentiment and illustrations from mythology. He seldom fetches an amorous sentiment from the depth of science. His thoughts are such as a liberal conversation and large acquaintance with life would easily supply. His diction is chaste and elegant, and his versification, which he borrowed from Waller, is rather smooth than strong.

'Mr. Granville,' says Dr. Felton, 'is the poetical son of Waller. We observe with pleasure, similitude of wit in the difference of years, and with Granville do meet at once the fire of his father's youth, and judgment of his age. He hath rivalled him in his finest address, and is as happy as ever he was in raising modern compliments upon ancient story, and setting off the British valour and the English beauty with the old gods and goddesses!'

'Granville,' says Lord Orford, 'imitated Waller, but as that poet has been much excelled since, a faint copy of a faint master must strike still less.'

The estimate of his poetical character, given by Dr. Johnson, is, in some respects, less favourable:

'Granville,' says the Doctor, 'was a man illustrious by his birth, and therefore attracted notice; since he is by Pope styled "the polite," he must be supposed elegant in his manner, and generally loved; he was in times of contest and turbulence steady to his party, and obtained that esteem which is always conferred upon firmness and consistency. With these advantages, having learned the art of versifying, he declared himself a poet, and his claim to the laurel was allowed.'

Pope, in a courtier-like passage in his 'Windsor Forest'—a poem which he dedicated to Lord Granville—says of him:

'Here his first lays majestic Denham sung;
Here the last numbers flowed from Cowley's tongue.
* * * * * Since fate relentless stopped their heavenly voice
No more the forest rings, or groves rejoice;
Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung
His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?
But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings—
Are these reviv'd? or is it Granville sings?'

adding,

'The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite,
And bring the scenes of opening fate to light.'

With one more extract from the praises of his contemporaries, and this the weightiest and most poetic of them all, we will conclude.

Dryden said of him—à propos of his tragedy of 'Heroick Love'—

'Auspicious poet, wert thou not my friend,
How could I envy what I must commend?
But since 'tis Nature's law, in love and wit,
That youth should reign, and with'ring age submit;
With less regret these laurels I resign,
Which, dying on my brow, revive on thine.'