APPENDIX F (p. [123])
CRUEL COPPINGER
By R. PEARSE CHOPE
The real Coppinger, around whose name Mr. Hawker has woven such a fascinating legend, has been identified by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould, in a footnote to his account of “The Vicar of Morwenstow” (edit. 1899, p. 113), with an Irishman of that name, having a wife at Trewhiddle, near St. Austell, by whom he had a daughter, who married a son of Lord Clinton. However, there can be little doubt that the Coppinger Mr. Hawker had in his mind lived nearer at hand, in the adjoining parish of Hartland, where several of these tales, together with others of a similar nature, are still told about him. His name was Daniel Herbert Coppinger or Copinger, and he was wrecked, probably at Welcombe Mouth, the end of the romantic glen which separates Welcombe from Hartland, on December 23rd, 1792. He was hospitably received and entertained, not by Mr. Hamlyn, but by Mr. William Arthur, another yeoman farmer, at Golden Park in Hartland. While there he scratched the following inscription on a window-pane, which was preserved for many years, but has now disappeared:—
“D. H. Coppinger, shipwrecked December 23rd, 1792; kindly received by Mr. Wm. Arthur.”
In the following year he married Ann Hamlyn, the elder of the two daughters of Mr. Ackland Hamlyn, of Galsham, and his wife Ann, who was one of the last of the ancient and gentle family of Velly of Velly, a family which had held a prominent position in the parish for at least five hundred years. The marriage is thus entered in the parish register:—
“Daniel Herbert Coppinger of the King’s Royal Navy and Ann Hamlyn mard (by licence) 3 Aug.”
Far from being “a young damsel,” the bride was of the mature age of forty-two. Two years later her sister, Mary, was married to William Randal, but there is no record or local tradition of any issue from either marriage. What rank Coppinger held in the Navy is not known, but his name does not appear in the lists of commissioned officers.
For about two years he carried on his nefarious business of smuggling, and stories are still told of the various methods he adopted of outwitting the gauger. His chief cave was in the cliff at Sandhole, but another is pointed out in Henstridge Wood, a couple of miles inland. On one occasion, perhaps after Coppinger’s time, the caves were watched so closely that the kegs of brandy which had been landed were deposited at the bottom of the zess, as the pile of sheaves in a barn is called, of an accommodating farmer. The gauger, who had his suspicions, wished to search the zess, but the farmer was so willing to help him in turning over the sheaves that his suspicions were allayed, and he went away without finding any of the incriminating articles. On another occasion the result was not so satisfactory for the farmer. On the arrival of the gauger, he produced some empty kegs in order to give his wife an opportunity of hiding a supply of valuable silks which had been left in their care. The safest place she could think of in her hurry was the oven, but she forgot that it had been heated for baking a batch of bread. The result was that, although the gauger failed to find them, they were burnt to ashes.
Mrs. Coppinger’s mother went to live with her other daughter and son-in-law at Cross House in Harton. She was the owner of Galsham, and retained possession of her husband’s money, and the tale runs that, in order to obtain money from her, Coppinger, having been refused admission, had been known to stand, with a pistol in each hand, on the lepping-stock, or horse-block, in front of the house and threaten to shoot any person who appeared at the door or any of the windows unless the required sum was produced. It is even said that once, as he was passing the house, he saw his brother-in-law, Randal, at the window, and fired at him without provocation, but luckily missed his aim.