Francis Edwards ~ The Cornish Historian

Rugby and Mining in Camborne

Reading time: 25 minutes

I always had hopes that it would reopen… ~ Kevin Penrose, West Briton, January 14 1999, p3

A *pare* of miners at Dolcoath, c1900. Image courtesy Kresen Kernow, ref. corn06172

The eminent historian E. P. Thompson certainly didn’t have Camborne in mind when he wrote the following:

Miners and tinners were archetypal male rioters, yet also it is notorious that whole communities shared in their movements…

Customs in Common, Penguin, 1991, p310

…but he might as well have done. The history of Camborne and its miners is punctuated by instances of social unrest, with the townspeople complicit in their actions.

On the morning of April 11, 1796, the bells of Camborne Church bade the miners assemble. The price of barley and corn was too high, and their mission was to fix a more agreeable sum.

An article was drawn up, and the farmers of the parish were all visited and forced, by written consent, to sell their crops at the specified price. All except one.

This stubborn yeoman was threatened, beaten, and then

…pulled by the ears thro’ a mud-pool…

Bath Chronicle, April 14 1796, p2

…and dragged from thence to a tree, where a noose was slung over a bough. Submit, or hang.

The wretched agriculturalist must have been made of strong stuff. It took over an hour before he gave in and signed the Camborne mens’ article.

Flushed with success, the miners fixed the grain prices for Illogan too. Word spread, and rapidly the tinners of Crowan, Gwinear, Redruth, Gwennap and St Agnes followed suit.

To restore order, the militia was called in¹.

In the 1840s, another period of extreme dearth, a gang of fifteen Camborne miners were discovered by Lady Basset’s gamekeeper on the grounds of the Tehidy Estate. Becket, the ‘keeper, was an ask-questions-later type of fellow, and shot three of the poachers’ dogs in what appears to have been a running fight through the woods. Previous to this, ducks and vegetables had been taken to various homes for the pot³.

Not one of the men was ever brought to book – but everyone in the area must have known who they were.

Trelowarren Street, Camborne, in the 1860s. In 1873, several policemen met their match here. Kresen Kernow, ref. corn05773

Most notoriously of all, in October 1873 the miners led the people of Camborne in the largest anti-police riot in Cornish history. Furthermore, it was a resounding success.

The station, then on Moor Street, was taken over and utterly trashed. The newly erected Town Hall was stoned and vandalised. Hundreds participated in a brutal streetfight. Terrified policemen were dragged from their places of refuge and beaten in the gutter.

Mob rule reigned. Nobody was ever convicted of rioting; three miners sat in the dock for a show-trial, but the townspeople were never going to say who had actually carried out the assaults. A government investigation discovered massive abuses of authority on the part of the Camborne force, and all the officers were either transferred or hastily retired⁴.

For once, both sides of the social divide in Camborne had a vested interest in the miners’ success:

…for a day or two, the working class in Camborne overthrew an oppressive and brutal agency of social control…and those who had power and wealth were forced to side with this outcome, through economic and moral necessity.

Rob Donovan, Mine to Die, Troubadour Publishing, 2024, p125

The militia called in to restore order in Camborne were billeted in a pub called The Reynolds Arms. Over a hundred years later, it was renamed The Red Jackets. Image courtesy Karen Hicks, whose father, Keith Tonkin, was the landlord. To further reinforce the link between mining and rugby in Camborne, the landlord of the Red Jackets in the 1990s was David Kingston, a former Camborne player.

What do these stories tells us? They tell us that Camborne’s miners came to represent, or symbolise the sentiments of Camborne’s working-class population. In 1796 and the 1840s, almost everyone in the town was feeling the pinch: the miners were called on to do what was necessary in alleviating the struggle.

Similar occurred in 1873, though by now the ruling class was complicit in the miners’ actions. The economy of Camborne was structured on mining: for the ruling class to remain as such, it had to be seen to be on the same side as the people who made their wealth and influence possible – the miners themselves⁵.

These tales also tell us that Camborne’s miners identified with the town they worked and lived in. When an external factor threatened the harmony of their town (for example, a corrupt and brutal police force), well, the miners would take it upon themselves to do something about it.

Broadening our scope, you could say that communities which directly associated with mining were proud to have such symbols of Cornishness in their midst. The life of a miner might have been nasty, brutish and short, but it was relatively well paid⁷, and carried a certain cultural status. Mining was part of what being Cornish was:

Mining was bred into the blood, into the bones, even into the very souls of the men [and women] of Cornwall…They could not live without the mines, and many of them felt that without mining they were not living.

John Rowe, Cornwall in the Age of the Industrial Revolution, 2nd ed, Cornish Hillside Publications, 1993, p326

One historian has claimed that, since the 1850s on (with over a third of Cornwall’s working population involved in the industry), mining became

…a geographically and culturally unifying factor…

Philip Payton, Cornwall: A History, Cornwall Editions, 2004, p196

…in what being Cornish meant.

Now, what would happen if Cornwall’s miners were to take up a sport? Would not that sport become imbued with Cornish identity, through its association with mining? If Camborne’s miners were to take up this sport, then surely this sport would come to represent not just the miners, but Camborne’s community as well?⁸

Of course, this is just what happened. Camborne’s miners took up rugby, and Camborne became not just a mining, but a rugby town.

This process didn’t happen overnight.

‘The Hurlers’, near St Cleer on the eastern edge of Bodmin Moor. Image from English Heritage

Camborne’s miners had always played games in their down-time. Captain Charles Thomas (1795-1868) was a man who went underground at age 12, and rose (both literally and figuratively) to become manager of Dolcoath. He recalled how, in his youth the Camborne miners would indulge in wrestling, sack races and cockfighting, all generously lubricated with alcohol.

On other occasions, he said, the tinners of Camborne, Redruth and Illogan would gather at some prearranged location to throw stones at each other⁹. We also know they enjoyed the ancient game of hurling, a practice which immediately conjures images of two rampaging mobs charging through the streets of a rural settlement, ostensibly to ‘hurl’ a spherical object through the opposition’s goal, but very probably to inflict violence and settle old scores¹⁰.

This hurling ball is inscribed ‘Paul Tuz whek Gware heb Tek heb ale buz Henwis’ meaning ‘Paul parish – Fair play is good play.’ It belonged to the Pearce family of Kerris, and is held by Penlee House¹¹

Certainly, hurling was a popular spectator sport. The (to this day) annual match at St Columb in 1777 was competed for a silver bowl worth five guineas, and we are told of a lot of action in side-bets. The fact that the game was reported on as far afield as Dorset gives us some idea of its status in the nascent West Country sporting calendar¹².

Hurling in St Columb, 1952. Image courtesy Kresen Kernow, ref. GE/2/E/22376

Returning to Camborne, hurling was definitely played there. The ‘pitch’, if it can be described as such, was the summit of Carn Brea, with inevitable results in 1705:

William Trevarthen (buried) in [Camborne] church. Being disstroid to a hurling with the Redruth men at the high dounes…

Qtd. in Allen Buckley, Bert Solomon: A Rugby Phenomenon, Truran, 2007, p26

High downs: the challenging playing surface of Carn Brea…¹³

As a modern sport, though, hurling was doomed. There was no governing body, set of rules or playing standards. There were no competitions or leagues. There were no ‘clubs’, as we would understand them. It needed more Press coverage. No transport infrastructure existed to bring disparate sides together, or introduce the game to a wider audience.

What Cornish hurling needed was the Industrial Revolution. But the Revolution, combined with the rise of Methodism, ironically sounded the death-knell for many old occasions, sports and recreations¹⁴.

By the time it was introduced to Cornwall, rugby football had everything hurling lacked to turn it into a modern spectator sport. This is why Camborne is a rugby town, and not a hurling town.

But even when rugby came to Camborne in the late 1870s, the miners, starved of their old pastimes, still didn’t take to it with a will. Why?

Six members of Camborne RFC, 1878. Back, l to r: Charles Vivian Thomas, Charles W. Boot, James M. Holman, Charles Carkeek. Front, l to r: John Bawden, Josiah Rowe. Courtesy Brenda Webster, Facebook

The answer is simple. The men in Camborne who decided to form a football club in autumn 1877 weren’t miners, or even members of the working class. They were gentlemen of the middle-class, muscular Christians who fancied a spot of rugger to keep them in trim.

Look at the above photo. At least one of the men pictured, Charles Thomas (1859-1941), had played the game whilst attending public school. By 1881 he was a solicitor’s articled clerk. Charles Boot (1861-1938) ran his own artisan smallware business¹⁵.

James M. Holman (1857-1933) would of course become M.D. of his family’s firm in time. Charles Carkeek (1858-1903) became a newspaper editor in Queensland, and later Mayor of Blackall¹⁶. John Bawden, 24 in 1881, was a clerk; Josiah Rowe (1857-1932) was an accountant and lumber-yard manager¹⁷.

The son of a mine captain who became a journalist: Charles Carkeek in 1896. Image from Queensland State Library

The other members of Camborne’s inaugural XV held similar positions. William Bonds was a chemist, for example. John H. Genn was a solicitor from Falmouth. (Incidentally Genn was one of the committee who in 1884 selected the first Cornish rugby XV ¹⁸.)

This fledgling club could boast fifty members on its roster, and field its “junior” or reserve side to play a team from Redruth on Boxing Day in 1877¹⁹. However, it’s clear that these men held a professional station which meant rugby football would only be a fleeting pastime.

Holman had a business to learn, Boot was running one. Carkeek would emigrate. Genn probably didn’t make the trip from Falmouth very often. After all, they were only playing to keep fit. Rather than being the sport the Cornish most identify with, rugby at this stage was merely an opportunity for cricketers

…to keep their limbs in practice in the interval between one season and another.

Cornubian and Redruth Times, December 3 1880, p4

This meant that running Camborne RFC at the time could be a battle to get XVs on the pitch, after the early enthusiastic rush to join up had faded. A match report from 1880 lists two Camborne players as ‘strangers’. Clearly the skipper (who would have given the players’ names to the reporter) had no idea who two members of his XV were – and he never bothered to find out²¹.

Plus, the right kind of player had to be found. You couldn’t very well holler down a mine and hope for a likely-looking forward to answer the call. Camborne’s first-ever overseas player was the Brazilian-born Jose de Lacerda, who turned out for a few fixtures in 1879-1880.

Lacerda must have shown promise; he was elected to the committee for the 1880-1 season. However, he was only aged 16 or thereabouts, and was a student at Brighton College. Evidently he joined Camborne during his holidays, and would soon disappear back upcountry. Pedigree didn’t always equal dedication²².

Camborne RFC, 1888. Sadly no names, though around this time the Camborne XV had a reputation as “burly miners”. They certainly look it. Image Kresen Kernow, ref. corn05419²³

The introduction of various Factory Acts (reducing working hours), and a relaxation of class tension post-1848 created

…a greater possibility for members of different classes to play sports together…

Tony Collins, Rugby’s Great Split: Class, Culture and the Origins of Rugby League Football, Frank Cass, 1998, p30

In Victorian Cornwall, where public schools were few and mines many, this cultural shift meant that the working classes gradually made rugby their own. From the early 1880s, Camborne’s rugby enthusiasts of a distinctly working-class character followed the example of Thomas, Boot et al and formed their own clubs.

To name but a few, there was the Camborne Butchers’ XV. There was Camborne Albions, who played on a pitch at Penponds – where, one day, Camborne School of Mines RFC would play. Tuckingmill could boast a squad of thirty in 1897. Pool held their annual dinners at – where else? – The Plume of Feathers. There was even a Camborne ‘Scratch Team’, and a ‘William’s’ XV²⁴.

Members of the parent club would put sides together too. In 1882 Pool played a XV assembled by William H. Rosewarne, Camborne’s secretary²⁵. Rugby fever had hit the Camborne area, with sides forming and disbanding seemingly on a whim.

This is a rugby team from the Camborne area, 1890s-1900s. Its name, the players’ names, indeed any clue as to where and when this photo was taken, is a complete mystery. Courtesy Tom Cory

I mentioned earlier that rugby football had all the necessary ingredients to make it into a modern spectator sport. However, it took the arrival of the working classes to the game, and the urbanisation of English (and Cornish) society to add the finishing touches.

Besides a tradition of playing for cash and/or prizes, the working class transplanted some characteristics of their now-obsolete games to rugby. These mainly manifested themselves in a fierce community or group rivalry, and what we might call competitive zeal²⁶. Winning at rugby became important; giving that lot in the next town or village a good hammering equally so.

This sporting parochialism combined with what historian Asa Briggs called civic pride. As settlements in the late 1800s developed, the dark satanic mills of the industrial epoch might have remained, but functionality was replaced, or overlaid, with a desire for attractiveness. Not only did you work in the town in which you resided, but that town should be a nice place to live as well, a town (or city) you could be proud of:

…cities were often focal points of affection and loyalty…through rivalry with each other and solidarity…People felt that they belonged to particular cities, and each with its own identity.

Asa Briggs, Victorian Cities, Pelican, 1968, p85

Winning a rugby match wasn’t just important for the teams playing it. The towns (or villages) being represented on the pitch had a vested interest in the result too. Camborne beating Redruth in a game of rugby didn’t just mean Camborne had a superior XV; it now meant Camborne was also a better town than Redruth.

This cultural change in rugby did not sit easily with the well-to-do. Their game had been hijacked by the unwashed. You get a sense of this in the newspaper reports. Before the advent of mass literacy and tabloid journalism, reporters aimed intellectually and socially high. Not only this, but later Victorian ‘papers generally revered their monarch, and advocated the British Empire²⁷. Anybody acting like savages were likely to be vilified.

For example, Tuckingmill RFC were so uncouth as to be suspended by the Cornwall RFU in 1909; it was remarked that their team

…had the lowest type of men in the county.

Cornishman, January 21 1909, p6

(I have yet to find a decent report of the Camborne Butchers’ XV, but one imagines their play was robust. After all, these were men who would attack unwelcome market inspectors with their cleavers²⁸.)

Camborne’s senior team were also victims of this alteration in journalistic tone. A report from 1879 (when the decidedly upmarket Josiah Bawden and Jose de Lacerda were in the ranks) describes play as featuring a

…vigorous style…[and] admirable exertions…

Cornish Telegraph, March 25 1879, p4

By 1888, with a surfeit of working men in the game, columnists’ snobbery was very much in evidence. A Camborne-Penzance match was summarised as being

…nothing more nor less than a stand-up fight.

Cornishman, March 1 1888, p4

Such carnage was clearly down to the XVs’ rougher, lower-class elements not knowing how to behave themselves in public:

You can’t expect to have every man…a scientific and practised player, but you can teach him that the object of the game is not to endeavour to blacken his opponent’s eyes…

Cornishman, March 1 1888, p4

Despite sporadic attempts to weed out the “rough element”²⁹ (ie, the working class) from the Camborne Club, they were here to stay. Gradually, the miners took precedence.

At least three members (that I can trace) of the 1891 XV were miners: George Thomas, John Stapleton and Henry Rosevear. Two others – Walter Hole and Christian Scott – were with Camborne School of Mines. You also had a grocer’s assistant, a store porter and a fruiterer³⁰.

What definitively (and ironically) linked rugby to mining in Camborne however was the formation of the School of Mines Club in 1896³¹. With a wider pool of talent to draw from, in their early years the Students were a force to be reckoned with. So much so, in fact, that Camborne RFC actually folded in the face of such superiority for the 1896-7 season:

*Cornishman*, December 24 1896, p3. Camborne RFC is conspicuous by its absence.

They reformed a season later, though, and based their recruitment model on the School of Mines: if they work underground, they’re in. In 1891 Camborne’s XV included shop assistants; by late 1897 such men had decided to form their own club – Camborne Shop Assistants RFC³². Camborne RFC was for the miners. Take a look at the photo below:

Camborne RFC, 1911-12. Inset left, Harry Rodda; inset right, **William Lovelock**. Back, l to r: H A Miller (sec), William Trounson, Harry Oswald Skewes, Charles Bath, M Sullivan. Middle, l to r: Charles Bryant (President), J Holman, **Sam Carter**, **Tom Morrissey**, **Herbert (Bert) Thomas**, **Solomon Carter**, M Lee, Chinn (trainer). Seated, l to r: George Harold Rice, **Charles Lovelock**, **Ernest White (Capt)**, **William Mills**, **Walter Eustice**. Ground, l to r: Reynolds, **Francis (or Frederick) Rule, David Bailey (Vice Capt), Alfred James Holman**. Those the 1911 census lists as miners are in **bold**. Image courtesy Andrew Selwood³³

Of the 16 players (or the ones in jerseys), 12 are miners, and I confess to not yet having discovered the occupations of Sullivan, J Holman, Thomas, Lee and Reynolds.

(Additionally, the formation of the Camborne School of Mines RFC indirectly gave Camborne RFC its nickname: ‘Town’. From the former club’s inception, journalists began to describe their XVs as the ‘Camborne Students’, and the Camborne sides as ‘Camborne Town’, in order to differentiate them in match reports. The name stuck.)

From this point forward in its history, if not before, Camborne RFC would forever be associated with the town’s primary industry. If you played rugby for Camborne, you were a miner. If you were a miner, you played rugby for Camborne. As we saw in the 1790s, or the 1840s, or in 1873, the miners represented Camborne – they were a symbol of the town. Through its strong association with mining, it was Camborne RFC, and not any other club in the district that came to symbolise the town.

With the coming of the miners and their rock-drill manufacturing associates from Holman-Climax, Camborne RFC also secured its reputation for not just beating their opponents, but beating the shit out of them as well. The likes of Gary Harris, Paul Ranford, Chris Durant, Nigel Coldrick and Tommy Adams are the latest in a long line of fearsome Town forwards whose history stretches back to the early 1900s.

Allied to this, as the miners had historically led the wider population of Camborne into riot and misrule, so it was to prove on the rugby pitch.

Redruth may have won on Feast Monday in 1908, but their ace centre Bert Solomon came away with a broken collarbone for his trouble³⁴. The 1908 County Championship belonged to Solomon (and to Cornwall’s evil genius, John Jackett), but on that fateful Monday, Town’s full-back, Arthur Stephens, had publicly vowed that Solomon wouldn’t get the better of him. The sickening crack as Stephens made good on his promise was heard in the grandstand³⁵.

The final Camborne-Redruth clash of the 1911-12 season ended in violent chaos, with players and several hundred spectators sorting out their differences on the pitch. The fall-out was bitter, and nearly led to Camborne ceding from the RFU³⁶.

In 1931 a Hayle player was foolish enough to tackle a Camborne man as he lay prone on the turf. Play was suspended for several minutes as the Camborne men dished out some retribution, with assistance from the crowd. Hayle weren’t exactly shy either. Camborne won, 17-0³⁷.

Camborne RFC, 1922-23. Image courtesy Kelly Hamblin, the granddaughter of Rafie Hamblin, a butcher. Fred Barnard and Walter Mayne were unemployed miners, while George Thomas, Phil Collins, Leonard Hammer, Reg Parnell, Richard Selwood and Bill Biddick were all employed by Holman/Climax. Information from the 1921 census

In the 1923-4 season Camborne defeated Redruth on five occasions. In one match, Reds’ skipper Roy Jennings was kicked unconscious for no other reason than having just taken a penalty.

In the same fixture, three other Redruth players were knocked out, and spectators (Redruth spectators, that is) were asking why the perpetrators weren’t arrested³⁸.

Although Camborne was in the miserable throes of a mining depression³⁹, at least two of the XV, Fred Barnard and Walter Mayne, still identified as miners, even though they were unemployed. This is an important point. Out of work or not, being a miner was part of who you were. From the late 1800s, being a rugby player came to distinguish you as much as being a miner did.

When Thomas Eva died in an accident at Dolcoath in 1897, it was noted that he had also played rugby for Camborne. His team-mates attended the funeral⁴⁰.

In 1908, two Camborne miners died from phthisis. The brief obituaries mentioned that both men were Town players⁴¹.

In 1923 Camborne’s Pat Selwood was presented with his Cornwall Cap. The County representative was especially pleased, as Selwood was

…an old Dolcoath miner.

West Briton, January 18 1923, p3

Clearly, recognition as a fine rugby player was seen as consolation for having been thrown out of work in 1920 when Dolcoath closed. Maybe it was.

In 1937 a small boy fell down an open mineshaft near Stray Park. All attempts at rescue, or to recover the body, failed. One man brave enough to volunteer to have himself lowered down was Bert Thomas. His courage was noted, but of equal importance was the fact that Thomas was

…an old Camborne Rugby forward…At one time he worked as a miner at Dolcoath…

Cornishman, September 9 1937, p4⁴²

Herbert ‘Bert’ Thomas, pictured in 1912. Image courtesy Andrew Selwood

Ex-miner Walter Mayne, a member of the 1924-5 Camborne XV, might have done great things after emigrating to Chicago in 1926. Not least of these achievements was forming the Chicago Southerns RFC:

The Chicago Southerns XV. Walter Mayne is the skipper. Standing second from right is another Camborne man, Romney Timmins, whose story has yet to be told, but he married Walter’s aunt. Courtesy Lesle Fiedler

But during a visit to Camborne in 1972, an interviewer only wanted to hear one thing: what did Walter make of his old team? Mayne must have anticipated the question:

…they are just as good as ever we were…

Qtd in: Henry Cecil Blackwell, From a Dark Stream: The Story of Cornwall’s Amazing People and Their Impact on the World, Truran, 1986, p220

What people had become on leaving Camborne was as important as what they had once been – especially if they had worked underground, and played rugby.

William Bassett, pictured in the 1910-11 Camborne XV. Detail from a Kresen Kernow image, ref. corn05420

If professionalism was illegal in rugby union, clubs found other, indirect ways to support miners and their families. This financial aid became increasingly prevalent as the Cornish mining recession began to bite. Such support, pleasingly, was above club rivalries, but tragedy often lay behind its necessity.

In December 1911 Richard Wills was instantly killed in a blasting accident at South Crofty. His shift boss, William Bassett, received compound fractures of both legs and was conveyed to the miners’ hospital, Barncoose.

A Camborne rugby player, Bassett died, horrifically and in great pain⁴³.

That year’s Boxing Day fixture was to be held in Redruth; the committee authorised a collection at the game for Bassett’s widow⁴⁴.

In the aftermath of the Levant Mine Disaster of October 20, 1919 (when its antiquated man engine finally gave way, killing 31 men⁴⁶), various charitable initiatives were taken. Camborne’s townspeople were praised for raising £315, or £11K today, for the families of the bereaved. A charity rugby match in the town realised £20, or £750.

Camborne’s population knew about tragedy:

…there is no town in the county where people have suffered more through mine fatalities…

Cornishman, January 7 1920, p6

Allied to this is the special kinship felt among Cornish miners:

…above all there was the camaraderie, or mateship, of men working under hard conditions, akin to soldiers at war.

Mike Ricks ~ a former South Crofty miner. With thanks to Ian Coulson for showing me this⁴⁷

Such an attitude might go some way to explaining miners’ affinity for the game of rugby.

In late 1921, Harry Rodda, a former Camborne player, donated £11 to the Cornish Miners’ Distress Fund. Worth £450 in 2024, he hoped his cheque would

…meet the cost of the extra fare for Christmas.

Cornishman, December 28 1921, p4

Harry Rodda. Detail from the 1911-12 team photo, courtesy Andrew Selwood.

That same year, the Unemployed Tin Miners’ Choir received permission to sing at Camborne’s home matches. As you might expect, a hat was passed round⁴⁸.

As touching (and harrowing) as these stories are, some of you might be questioning their relevance today. After all, the mines have closed, and the miners are gone. Is mining still part of rugby in Camborne? Is it still part of Camborne RFC?

Of course it is. Camborne RFC is as proud of its mining heritage as any Cornishman. The club, the town, and Cornwall still recognises the men that made it one of the centres of the Industrial Revolution:

This sense of community, support and philanthropy remain strong. Camborne is still a mining town as much as it is a rugby town. In 1996 a series of annual charity rugby matches was organised between Camborne RFC and a South Crofty XV, in memory of Crofty miner and rugby fan Cyril Penrose.

The teams competed for the Cyril Penrose Trophy (a shield bearing a miner fashioned from tin). All proceeds went to Macmillan Nurses and Cancer Research.

Martin Wolstenholme proudly displaying the Cyril Penrose shield…

…and the image of him underground at Crofty that was used for the shield. With thanks

Skippering the Crofty side for that inaugural game was Cyril’s son, Kevin Penrose, himself a miner at Crofty for 11 years. Of course, he also played rugby for Camborne, Pirates and Cornwall. (Dave Weeks led Town.)

The 1999 edition saw a thrilling 36-34 win for Camborne, and featured the cream of local rugby talent: Stuart Hood, Brian Andrew (himself a miner), Paul Gadsdon, Andrew Smith, James Angove, Nicky Pellowe, Kelvin Smitham, Darren Chapman, Paul Wheeler and Phil Wells⁵⁰.

In other words, Camborne RFC knew how to honour the memory of the miners. And by 1999, mining was already a memory in Camborne. In March 1998 Crofty closed, ending a

…3,000 year history…for Cornwall it is a disaster.

West Briton, March 5 1998, p4

Even then, the link between mining and rugby was reinforced. From 11am on Saturday, March 7, 1998, processions from Camborne and Redruth, led by their respective brass bands, paraded through the streets to meet at Crofty.

Naturally, the marches had begun from both towns’ rugby clubs⁵¹.

Mining, therefore, isn’t just part of Camborne’s distant past – and nor is it part of Camborne RFC’s distant past. One doesn’t have to (ahem) dig too far back in the annals of former players to find a tinner or two. For example:

Dave ‘Jumbo’ Reed, a prop of the 1970s and 80s, later coach of the Colts

Big Tommy Adams, a forward of the 1980s and 90s⁵²

Below is a Pendarves Mine XV, photographed the day after the Penlee Lifeboat Disaster, and just before they took on Crofty. Kneeling left is the Town hooker of the 1970s, Malcolm Bennetts. Both his sons, Nathan and Wayne, also played for Camborne. Nowadays Wayne coaches the Colts.

Standing, l to r: Larry Roberts, Peter May, Jake Matthews, Peter (Puggy) Trudgeon, John Williams, Tony Pope, Joe Sinkins, Geoff Small, Alwyn Parker. Front, l to r: Malcolm Bennetts, Albert Southwell, Bernard Williams, Danny Graham, Glyn Jenkins and Ian Johnston. Crofty won, 15-13. Pendarves lacked the St Ives prop Louis Stevens, who had been called in for cliff rescue duty on account of the Disaster.

The late father of current squad member Josh Matavesi, Sireli, also had a tour of duty at South Crofty:

As Crofty looks set, finally, to reopen in 2026, who knows? Maybe the miners will return to Camborne RFC, and a great tradition will be rejuvenated, a tradition perhaps best summed up by Sireli Matavesi himself:

All the rugby players worked down at the mine, and everybody looked after each other, apart from at the weekend when we would play against each other and try to kill each other, that was the Cornish way of life…⁵³

With special thanks to Ian Coulson, Dave ‘Jumbo’ Reed, Malcolm Bennetts, Kevin Penrose, Ian Johnston, Martin Wolstenholme and Josh Matavesi.

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

Summarised from: Bath Chronicle, April 14 1796, p2.
Image from: Michael Tangye, Tehidy and the Bassets: the Rise and Fall of a Great Cornish Family, Truran, 2002.
See my series on the Cornish Food Riots of 1847 here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2022/01/09/the-cornish-food-riots-of-1847-background-and-context/. The story is from: Michael Tangye, Tehidy and the Bassets, p65.
See my series of posts on the riots here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/09/30/the-camborne-riots-of-1873-part-one/. The riots are also discussed in Rob Donovan’s Mine to Die, p98-125.
See: Rob Donovan, Mine to Die, p98-125.
Image from: L. J Bullen, Mining in Cornwall, Volume 8: Camborne to Redruth, History Press, 2006, p23.
It has been argued that reward in mining outweighed the risk, especially during the boom years of the 1850s and 1860s. A tributer at Dolcoath in 1890 could expect to earn £4/month, or £430 today. If other family members were employed at surface, the household could enjoy a relatively decent income, up to 50% higher than those in rural districts. With Methodist thrift and careful management, a life as a tin miner could be an eminently more attractive option than that of, say, an agricultural labourer. See: Roger Burt and Sandra Kippen, “Rational Choice and a Lifetime in Metal Mining: Employment Decisions by Nineteenth-Century Cornish Miners”, International Review of Social History, Vol. 46.1 (2001), p45-75.
This kind of argument has been made before. See: Andy Seward, “Cornish Rugby and Cultural Identity: A Socio-Historical Perspective”, The Sports Historian, Vol. 18.2 (1998), p78-94. Seward however argues that miners took up the game practically the instant it was introduced to Camborne. See also: The Cornish Paradox: Identity and Rugby Union, MA Theses by Aidan Taylor, Amazon Kindle, 2004.
Thomas’ recollections are from: Cornish Post and Mining News, March 5 1896, p8. For more on the Thomas mining dynasty, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Thomas_(mine_agent), and https://dmbi.online/index.php?do=app.entry&id=3880
In contrast to this traditional view, one version of hurling, observed by Richard Carew in the early 1600s demonstrates a system of rules and regulations that have led some to conclude that Cornish hurling under ‘Carew’s rules’ was not unlike modern rugby football, though others, such as Tony Collins, disagree. It’s certainly unclear as to the longevity (or geographical influence) of the version of hurling Carew noted. Obviously there had to be a lot of regional variations. See: Andy Seward, “Cornish Rugby and Cultural Identity: A Socio-Historical Perspective”, The Sports Historian, Vol. 18.2 (1998), p78-94, and Tony Collins, Rugby’s Great Split: Class, Culture and the Origins of Rugby League Football, Frank Cass, 1998, p1-28.
Image and translation from: https://www.bbc.co.uk/ahistoryoftheworld/objects/aFUhFpqTTteWX06fqAwhiw
Sherborne Mercury, March 10 1777, p3.
Image from: https://www.iwalkcornwall.co.uk/walk/carn_brea
See: A. K. Hamilton Jenkin, The Cornish Miner, 3rd ed., George, Allen & Unwin, 1962, p288-92.
From the 1881 census, and my previous article on the origins of Camborne RFC: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/08/26/cambornes-feast-day-rugby/
For more on the young Holman, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/08/26/cambornes-feast-day-rugby/. The information on Carkeek comes from: Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 14 1892, p8; Cornishman, June 16 1904, p5.
From the 1881 census; more detail can found at: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/08/26/cambornes-feast-day-rugby/
From the 1881 census. Camborne’s very first team was listed in the Cornish Telegraph, November 13 1877, p3. For Genn’s involvement in this fledgling Cornwall RFU, see: Cornubian and Redruth Times, 10 October 1884, p7.
The first Boxing Day derby merits two sentences in the Cornish Telegraph, January 1 1878, p2. Camborne’s impressive squad numbers are noted in the Royal Cornwall Gazette, October 19 1877, p4. That the clubs’ senior XVs weren’t playing each other is listed in the Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 21 1877, p5. With thanks to Nick Serpell.
Image from: https://rugby-pioneers.blogs.com/rugby/1_rugby_print/page/5/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 10 1880, p5.
1881 census; Cornish Telegraph, October 21 1880, p5.
The Camborne side were described as such in the Cornishman, November 24 1892, p10.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 21 1881, p5; Cornish Telegraph, February 28 1884, p5, and October 12 1893, p5; Cornishman, April 29 1884, p5, and September 17 1896, p5; West Briton, September 9 1897, p11.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 11 1884, p4. The 1881 census lists the enterprising Rosewarne as a seventeen year-old clerk.
From: Tony Collins, Rugby’s Great Split: Class, Culture and the Origins of Rugby League Football, Frank Cass, 1998, p29-66.
See: Power Without Responsibility: Press, Broadcasting and the Internet in Britain, by James Curran and Jean Seaton, 7th ed., Routledge, 2010, p23-36, and The Uses of Literacy: Aspects of Working-Class Life, by Richard Hoggart, Penguin, 1990, p147-218.
As noted in the Cornish Telegraph, January 21 1886, p8.
The Royal Cornwall Gazette of January 15 1886 (p5) noted that Camborne’s play was more genteel, thanks to a cull of working men from the squad.
From a team listed in the Cornish Telegraph, December 24 1891, p5, and the 1891 census.
As announced in the Cornishman, September 17 1896, p5. The same report noted their already-formidable squad. See also: Hellfire Awaits: 150 Years of Redruth RFC, by Nick Serpell, Pitch Publishing, 2025, p73.
Camborne’s resuscitation is noted in the July 29, 1897 edititions of the Cornishman (p2), and West Briton (p4). The Assistants’ XV was announced to the world in the Cornishman, October 28 1897, p3.
Of the other men pictured I’ve been able to trace: Trounson was a carpenter, Skewes a plumber, Charles Bath an engineer, Bryant a bank manager, Rice a gas engineer. Sam Carter and and Tom Morrissey were to join the Northern Union in 1912: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Cornubian and Redruth Times, November 12 1908, p10. For more on Camborne’s Feast Monday rugby tradition, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/08/26/cambornes-feast-day-rugby/
From: Hellfire Awaits: 150 Years of Redruth RFC, by Nick Serpell, Pitch Publishing, 2025, p125. For more on the 1908 Championship, and how Jackett masterminded Cornwall’s success, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/ .
It’s one hell of a story. See: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Cornishman, April 2 1931, p6.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, February 7 1924, p5.
For the effects of mine closures on Camborne during the 1920s, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/09/21/the-magnificent-seven-meet-the-invincibles/
West Briton, December 16 1897, p11.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, June 18 1908, p4; Cornubian and Redruth Times, December 17 1908, p5.
Sadly, little Aubrey Gilbert’s body was never found, and another man, Jack Curtis of Redruth, died attempting rescue. Cornish Post and Mining News, September 15 1937, p3.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 14 1911, p8, and December 21, p6.
From: Nick Serpell, Hellfire Awaits: 150 Years of Redruth RFC, Pitch Publishing, 2025, p139.
Image from: https://imagearchive.royalcornwallmuseum.org.uk/mining/st-just-penwith/levant-mine-st-just-penwith-cornwall-1919-18316667.html
Rob Donovan argues persuasively that the accident was avoidable. See his Mine to Die, Troubadour Publishing, 2024, p163-86.
See Ricks’ recollections here: https://cornishstory.com/2023/06/01/working-underground-at-south-crofty-mine/
Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 20 1921, p6.
Image from: West Briton, October 1 1998, p57.
West Briton, March 28 1996, p47, May 2 1996, p47, June 3 1999, p58.
West Briton, March 5 1998, p4.
The image of Tommy is from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01W3bJc_MpA
Quote from: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-33148916

Book Review: Hellfire Awaits: 150 Years of Redruth RFC, by Nick Serpell

Reading time: 5 minutes

Hellfire Awaits: 150 Years of Redruth RFC, by Nick Serpell

Foreword by John Inverdale

Pitch Publishing, 2025

352 pages, plus illustrations

ISBN: 9781801509343

RRP: £14.99

…the active intervention of the historian’s literary skill is essential if sporting history is to be made meaningful and not reduced to a superficial, dry listing of fixtures, results and personalities…¹

The signpost on the road said ‘To Redruth and the graveyard’ and that was enough to strike fear into you…Their players were a nasty bunch…Hellfire Corner’s the right name for that place…²

Redruth RFC has found its ideal biographer in Nick Serpell. A professional genealogist and one-time obituary writer for the BBC, Nick is also a lifelong supporter of the club. This makes him formidably qualified to do the job.

It’s taken him two years, and what a job he’s done.

Although Hellfire Awaits is, first and foremost, a celebration of one of Cornwall’s most famous and successful clubs, I stress that this is not just a book for the die-hard Redruth fan.

(That a Camborne man such as myself can bear to read it from cover to cover ought to tell you as much.)

Nick has eschewed the approach of many enthusiastic compilers of club histories, which is to bombard the reader with as many statistical details as possible. A good example of this is the history of Leicester Tigers³. I salute the authors’ research endeavours but, as a cogent and interesting narrative, the effort falls short. Indeed, the book is more like an encyclopedia for Tigers supporters and nobody else.

The story has been sacrificed at the altar of fact.

Nick has gone for story first – but he’s also done his homework. Besides spending months scouring contemporary newspapers, he’s been fortunate to have earlier club histories to hand and the committee minutes stretching back to the 1890s.

Yes, it’s all about the story, and not just the story of Redruth RFC. Want to know how rugby football developed in Cornwall? It’s here. Want to know who Cornwall’s very first clubs were? Try the appendix. Want to know about Penzance, Penryn, Falmouth or Hayle’s XVs down the years, and how they fared against Redruth? Dip in. The development of the Cornwall RFU and the rise and fall of the County Championship? The antiquated mindset of the RFU? Nick ticks a lot of boxes.

(Naturally, the story of the rivalry with Camborne is awarded a separate appendix. But we also learn that the rivalries with Torquay Athletic in the inter-war years, and with Launceston in National League Two, were just as intense, but lacked the longevity⁴.)

Year on year, season by season from 1875, Nick has placed the story of Redruth RFC – and, to some degree, Cornish rugby – in its socio-historical context. He hasn’t just endlessly regurgitated old match scores and reports, an approach which, after a few pages, rapidly gets stale.

We know what the BBC’s Grandstand and ITV’s World of Sport did to attendance figures in the 1970s and 1980s. We know how relying solely on rail travel in the 1890s played merry hell with match schedules. We know the introduction of National Leagues in the late 1980s suddenly meant journeys like the 900-mile round trip to Aspatria in Cumbria was in the offing.

Though a Redruth man through and through, Nick’s sense of historical balance stops Hellfire Awaits from being a mere exercise in pro-Red tubthumping. For example, in the 1890s Nick describes Redruth as

…the uncontested premier side in Cornwall…They certainly proved too good for their near neighbours, Camborne…

p58

Nick, doubtless with some relish, proceeds to quote the Cornubian, which condemns Camborne’s play as “hackneyed, degenerated”, and “miserable”.

I confess to gritting my teeth through this section, but was pacified a couple of pages later when, in the opinion of the Cornish Telegraph,

…it might be as well if the Redruthians would not adopt such a high and mighty tone in their dealings with all and sundry…[it] is calculated to put other people’s backs up…

p60

Hear-hear. It is this sense of balance that carries the story, as does Nick’s writing, and ingrained knowledge of Cornish rugby:

A thick skin was a prerequisite for any referee who took charge of a Redruth home match and remains a necessary characteristic to this day.

p108

Here’s Nick, on an away trip in the 1990s:

The arrival of a busload of supporters at away grounds could be something of a culture shock for the hosts, particularly at some of the posher clubs like Blackheath, and Cheltenham…

p300

On the professional game, and the RFU’s hamfisted attempts at running the New World Order, Nick borders on the polemical:

The gap between the haves and the have nots would continue to widen, and still threatens to split the game in two.

p313

Above all, though, this is a celebration of Redruth RFC – its good, bad and ugly bits. Its status as the ‘home’ of Cornish rugby is fully emphasised. Club legends such as Bert Solomon and Roy Jennings get their own chapters. Richard Sharp, Maffer Davey, Billy Phillips, Terry Pryor and Bonzo Johns get lengthy mentions. There’s cameos too for the likes of Rob Thirlby, Tony Cook and the (gloriously outspoken) Nigel Hambly.

All the club’s Cornish ‘firsts’ (floodlit games, charity fixtures, County matches, admissions etc) are discussed. On the other hand you get told all about the punch-ups, suspensions, arguments, arrogance and controversies. Nick has gone for warts-and-all, and succeeded admirably.

If I have one caveat, it’s regarding the lack of oral history – the personal recollections of the players themselves. What does Mike Downing think of holding the record for most club appearances? How did Mark Richards find joining Redruth from Camborne in the 1990s? Or Marcel Gomez on his controversial suspension in 1995?

But maybe this would be my approach, not Nick’s, and in any case his book is strewn with detail. How many pints of beer does the club sell in a year? How many squad members were suspended after a single incident in 1981? What did the fans do to the Glamorgan Police XV? How did JPR Williams arrive at the ground in 1975? There’s a wealth of information here to delight any Cornish rugby fan.

Beautifully written and immaculately produced by Pitch Publishing, Hellfire Awaits is the first full-length club history in Cornish rugby, about Cornwall’s longest continually-running club.

And running a club, non-stop, for 150 years, has been damn hard work. The limited local opposition, collapsing industry, emigration, changing leisure patterns, Rugby League, the rise of soccer, professionalism and geographical remoteness has made the life of Redruth RFC extremely challenging.

To be around for 150 years, though, is also an amazing achievement. So is Nick’s book.

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

“Cornish Rugby and Cultural Identity: A Socio-Historical Perspective”, by Andy Seward, The Sports Historian, Vol. 18.2 (1998), p78-94.
Coventry RFC visit Redruth in the 1930s. From Hellfire Awaits, p280.
The Tigers Tale: Official History of Leicester Football Club, 1880-1993, by Stuart Farmer and David Hands, Polar Print Group, 1993.
Of course, I’ve also written extensively on the subject: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/09/02/camborneredruth-the-oldest-continual-rugby-fixture-in-the-world-part-one/

Two Shillings and Sixpence: A Cornish Wife Sale

Reading time: 35 minutes

(An earlier version of this post appeared in the Cornwall Association of Local Historians Journal, volume 74, 2022, p53-64.)

Oh, ye who never knew the joys, try it! Remember Redruth Market, there you can have all in perfection and in no town in the kingdom is there greater abundance or quality… ~ a London gentleman, 1778

…the absurd notion which is held by the illiterate…~ Cornish Telegraph, 21 October 1857, p2

…he…has offered me for sale a hundred times…~ Rebecca Hodge, Royal Cornwall Gazette, 15 April 1820, p3

A sketch of Fore Street, Redruth, by J M W Turner, 1811. The lean-to roofs of the old market are just visible on the left below the clock¹

In May 2017 a Community Interest Company, Redruth Revival, purchased the old Buttermarket on Station Hill, which in years past had been the kind of place you never ventured in after dark. Redruth Revival’s vision was that the Buttermarket would eventually

…become a focus for community use and offer an innovation business centre to offer vibrant communal office space to new and existing businesses, with a particular eye on young entrepreneurs leaving college or university².

This rebirth, or reimagination, of Redruth as a vibrant market/business town, has gone from strength to strength. In 2020 Redruth Revival won an Historic England grant worth £4 million to renovate the Buttermarket, which is now a Grade 2 Listed Building, on account of its architectural and historical interest³.

In November 2024 the Buttermarket reopened, as a food hall, shopping hub, and courtyard to accommodate local bands⁴. The Buttermarket’s own website claims it’s “Redruth’s coolest comeback”, a place

…for the best up-and-coming culinary talents to showcase their work in the heart of Redruth…Forget stuffy establishments, the Buttermarket is a laid-back playground for foodies and culture vultures alike. Think kaleidoscopic street food pop-ups and funky artisan stalls, all buzzing with the energy of passionate locals doing what they love…

Buttermarket Homepage

In promoting the market they have recreated, Redruth Revival’s webpage carries the quote from a London gentleman with which I opened my essay:

Oh, ye who never knew the joys, try it! Remember Redruth Market, there you can have all in perfection and in no town in the kingdom is there greater abundance or quality…⁵

Though this was written back in 1778, their use of these lines shows how the Revival think-tank want to create the illusion of historical continuity. Their Redruth Market, the Buttermarket, is similar to, if not better than, the market of 1778, which is a point worth discussing.

From the 1330s, when Edward III granted a charter permitting it, to the 1950s, there was a weekly market in Redruth⁶. Taking the period of late Georgian England, which is when the London gentleman extolled the market’s virtues, to early Victorian England (roughly this essay’s timeframe), Redruth Market certainly rivals the modern-day incarnation for variety and abundance. And this in the days before railways, when everything in Cornwall was transported by horse and cart, or, in the case of livestock, simply driven to market.

The Buttermarket, Redruth, c1870. First built in 1825-6 for Sir Francis Bassett. Note the wooden railway viaduct. By kind permission Kresen Kernow, corn02860

In 1810 for example, you could buy Copper Ore by auction. Or vegetables, from Penzance, in 1841. In 1847 a man from Gwithian harvested an entire field of oats, and sold them off at 10s a bushel. There was a tithe sale in 1834, cattle of many breeds in 1844, or butter and dairy goods on offer in 1849⁷.

As the examples above hope to demonstrate, clearly the Redruth Market of the early 1800s was very different to the one of today. Back then, the town was obviously an established rural trading centre, attracting business from all over West Cornwall: not only tradespeople and farmers from Penzance or Gwithian, but from Truro, Breage, Falmouth, Mawnan Smith, or St Keverne⁸. The population increase during the period of the Industrial Revolution, coupled with the rapid rise of urbanisation, created greater demand for agricultural foodstuffs and textiles in town centres, which the people of the Cornish countryside sought to profit from⁹. In short, supply went to where the demand was.

The modern Redruth Buttermarket deals in the expensive, the organic, the luxury: yes, the bread from the funky artisan bakery stall probably tastes better, but it’s cheaper in the supermarket down the road. Contrastingly, in 1848 a woman in her 70s had to walk from Illogan to the market, just to buy meat. Redruth Market’s focus is no longer agricultural or industrial trade, but to bring money, investment, and business to the town. Where once it was mainly the concern of the labouring classes, its feel is now distinctly middle class¹⁰.

The appearance of the market has altered too. For a start, The Buttermarket was only built in 1825-6; until 1795, the market was held in a wooden building on Fore Street until that was demolished as an obstruction to traffic, the market being rebuilt slightly further down the road in 1801. Every week pigs, cattle, sheep and poultry would have been driven through the streets, along with carts crammed with goods being pulled by horses. Towns in this period of urban explosion struggled to cope with the increase in traffic (and manure), and the traditional capacities of many market areas became inadequate. This resulted in many injuries to pedestrians, increased challenges to regulation, noise, antisocial behaviour, and unpleasant sights and smells: in many market towns cattle were slaughtered and skinned on the spot, to the disgust of the more well-to-do attendees. Needless to say, this is not an issue in the Redruth Market of 2024¹¹.

Engraving of West End and Fore Street, Redruth, c1850. Kresen Kernow, ref. AD3039/6

There was also an increase in crime and sharp practice. In 1824 a Wendron man was indicted for buying pork at the market, and reselling it on the same day, for an inflated price. In 1822 men from Camborne were fined for having “defective weights” and “false beams” on their scales. In 1839 a butcher stole and killed a bullock, carrying it to the market for sale. Shoes, stolen, were also on sale in 1839. This is clearly not the Redruth Market encapsulated in the quote from 1778 that Redruth Revival would like to be recalled, or indeed be associated with. One way or another, you could attempt to buy or sell anything in the Redruth Market of the late Georgian era, both over the counter and under it¹².

You could even buy a wife:

On Friday last a man led his wife, by a straw band which was fastened round her neck, into the market at Redruth, and put her up to auction. This exhibition, the first of the kind at Redruth, drew together a crowd; but very few appeared disposed to become purchasers. After a considerable time, the sum of two shillings and six pence was offered, and the woman was delivered to the purchaser…

West Briton, December 17 1819, p2

A wife sale at Smithfield Market in 1797¹³

From being a scarcely believable folk memory, there have been many fine studies of the historical phenomenon of wife sales in this country in recent years. Considering Cornwall, Elizabeth Dale has surveyed all the alleged occurrences of this practice (apart from this one), but there has yet to be an in-depth case study of a genuine Cornish wife sale, such as the one that happened in Redruth Market, on Friday December 10, 1819. Who were the people involved? How did it happen? And, the question that everybody asks me when I read them the brief initial report from the West Briton given above, why did it happen?¹⁴

From the newspaper reports of their hearing, you can sketch an outline of the protagonists’ lives. On June 1, 1798, William Hodge, a bachelor, married Rebecca Small, spinster, in the Church of St Mary Magdalene, Woolwich, by banns. John Busby was the church official, and Richard Lingard and E. Edwards were the witnesses. Hodge and Small both said they were of the same parish, Hodge signing the register with a mark, Small signing hers with a flourish. Where they were born, how long they had lived in Woolwich (if at all), and where they went immediately after their wedding is a mystery¹⁵.

At some point, the relationship went sour. At the hearing, Rebecca Hodge stated she had not lived with her husband for “the last ten years”. William Hodge drifted to Cornwall, with Rebecca following – or maybe it was the other way round. She said she had seen Hodge during this time, but “was never alone with him, he having repeatedly threatened to take away my life”. Perhaps they both originally came from Cornwall, had moved to London and, when the marriage began to fail, returned to more familiar faces and places. But we can only speculate. It does seem certain though that William Hodge fell on hard times, and was of a violent disposition. In 1816 he was imprisoned for six months for “disturbing and assaulting the paupers in the workhouse at Wendron”. In 1817, now crippled, Hodge was imprisoned and fined for stabbing a man at Marazion workhouse. Less than two years later, and somehow making his way as a labourer in Stithians, he was sentenced to three months in Bodmin Gaol for petty theft. Hodge was a man on the very margins of society, disabled, violent, and probably desperate, one of the 100,000 paupers in England and Wales during this period, housed in 1,900 workhouses. One can only imagine what his life was like¹⁶.

Workhouse inmates fighting over bones meant to be used for fertiliser, 1845¹⁷

Rebecca Hodge found work in Penryn, binding shoes in the company of a man called William Andrew. Andrew was the man who ultimately purchased her from Hodge for two shillings and sixpence. In August 1822, Andrew and Rebecca were married in the parish of St Gluvias, by banns, she again being the only member of the union to be able to sign her name, though this time she is listed as a widower. In September 1821 William Hodge died and was buried in Stithians workhouse, leaving his estranged wife free to legitimately marry. Hodge’s age at death is given (roughly) as 40, making him around 17 at the time of his marriage in 1798. As we shall see later, this is significant. Rebecca, sadly, did not have long to enjoy her new marriage, being buried in St Gluvias parish in November 1822. She was 46, making her around 22 in 1798. Andrew remarried, dying in 1831, aged 56. As biographies go, these are painfully short. In fact, the details that remain of their lives fill less space than the column inches devoted to their activities in Redruth Market in December 1819¹⁸.

William Trevorrow (or Trevorra, or Trevorrah, accounts differ) was a busy man. Apart from being an innkeeper in Redruth, he was also the town’s Parish Officer, Redruth’s figure of law enforcement in the days before a regular police force. The job was unpaid, part-time, and burdensome. He had to try and prevent crime, lock up various felons and hoodlums, was permitted the authority to read The Riot Act if required and, under the Vagabonds and Vagrants Act of 1494, had the power to clap undesirables in the town stocks. He also had to monitor trading standards, keep a watchful eye on local taverns, restrain loose animals (and this would have proved challenging in the days when livestock roamed the streets), attend inquests, and collect parish rates. Trevorrow was certainly kept occupied by Redruth’s populace. In 1822 some barley flour was alleged to have been stolen from him, and he had to give public notice of his authority to convey prisoners to gaol. Throughout the 1830s he was involved in hearings in various ways²⁰.

Maybe Trevorrow as Parish Officer was an officious zealot, or he utterly loathed the onerous – and unpaid – duties of his office. Or he even supplemented his income unofficially by being in the pay of several shady locals. Whatever the truth, he was on duty in Redruth Market on Friday, December 10, 1819. We’re not sure if this was out of choice, or whether his superiors had warned him to keep his eyes open in what was increasingly becoming a trouble spot.The marketplace must have swelled with the influx of humanity from West Cornwall. There would have been a body swell of tradesmen and farmers, all vying for the same space, and the same wallets, as their competitors – it would have been Trevorrow’s task to keep them in line. He would have known who to watch, who gave short weight, whose produce was said to be already spoiled. He would have made sure the livestock was well tethered: it was his job to stop animals rampaging through the streets after all. He would have noted the local cutpurses and pickpockets, the thieves and maybe even discouraged the odd flashtail from touting for business. But possibly nothing would have prepared him for what he saw that day²¹:

William Trevorrow, a constable…deposed that…he observed a multitude of people: he approached and saw Wm. Hodge holding his wife Rebecca Hodge, by a straw band which passed round her waist. He heard him cry “A woman for sale! – who’ll purchase?” The prisoner, William Andrew, replied “I will”…He then bid 2s 6d and W. Hodge said you shall have her. He accordingly delivered her into the hands of [the] defendant, who paid the money and led her off in triumph…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3. The initial report (West Briton, December 17 1819, p2), has it that the straw band was round Rebecca’s neck.

Apart from the actual act of selling one’s wife, what amazes the reader over two hundred years later is that Trevorrow, who after all was the Parish Officer, apparently did nothing to stop the transaction. Maybe he was too gobsmacked to intervene. Maybe he waited until after the transaction, and the crime committed, to apprehend those concerned²². Whatever his reasons, Trevorrow must have belatedly done his job: the case of the sale went to court after all. Rebecca Hodge was then cross-examined. After stating she and Hodge had married in 1798 in Woolwich and that they had not lived together for over ten years, she was asked,

Have you seen him [Hodge] during that time? I have, but was never alone with him, he having repeatedly threatened to take away my life, and has offered me for sale a hundred times…Who bought you? Wm. Andrew. – Did you know him before? I did. – Did he know your husband? He did…Where has your husband been for the last 10 years? Roaming about the country, I believe in Cornwall…How did you gain your livelihood at Penryn? By binding shoes. – Where did Andrew live? Also at Penryn. – Were you acquainted with him previous to sale? I was…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3

Illustration of a wife sale that took place in Bradford, 1858²³

It’s apparent, then, that the Hodges and Andrew all knew each other to varying degrees: the sale begins to look less like a random incident than something prearranged. Either William Andrew wasn’t cross-examined, or the reporter failed to record anything he might have said. William Hodge wasn’t even present; the 2s 6d he made from selling his wife didn’t last long, and he was “in the poor house at Stithians” on the day of the hearing²⁴.

William Hodge didn’t escape the long arm of the law, however. He left Stithians workhouse in July 1820 only to go straight to gaol:

William Hodge of Redruth…indicted for selling his wife Rebecca at Redruth, to William Andrew for 2s 6d: two months in gaol…

Lostwithiel Quarter Sessions, July 11 1820. Kresen Kernow, ref. QS/1/10/86.

By the end of September, Hodge was out of prison and back in Stithians workhouse, where he was to shortly die. Andrew, also found guilty, received the following:

…indicted for publickly [sic] buying one Rebecca Hodge the wife of one William Hodge for 2s 6d: three months in house of correction and fined 1s…

Truro Quarter Sessions, April 11 1820. Kresen Kernow, ref. QS/1/10/60

There were varying reactions to the sale. First, you have the people witnessing the actual act in Redruth Market, Trevorrow’s ‘multitude’. The personal thoughts of these people are lost to us, but, as a whole, one must conclude that they were more or less complicit in the act. Not one of them stepped forward to halt proceedings (nor did Trevorrow it seems), and at least one other chancer bid for Rebecca Hodge: “Another man now offered 2s”²⁵. Surely objections would have been raised, and outrages voiced, if one of those watching had felt uncomfortable with the unfolding auction? Also, none of them made Trevorrow, the Parish Officer, aware that something untoward was going down: he noticed the crowd himself, and went over to investigate. We might tentatively conclude, then, that the reactions of the lower and labouring classes to the spectacle of a wife sale was one of bemused acceptance.

No one asked William Hodge and William Andrew if they thought they were doing anything wrong (or, if they did, it’s gone unrecorded), and Rebecca’s passivity to the whole affair is almost painful in its simplicity:

…this man bought me, paid the money, and took me home, where I have remained ever since…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3

We might add to the end of her sentence, and that’s all there is to it. If she morally objected to being auctioned off in a cattle market, she never said so in court, and the very fact that she eventually ended up marrying her purchaser, William Andrew, implies a certain level of collusion on her part.

Rebecca’s almost meek acceptance of matters contrasts dramatically with the froth dished up by the magistrates and reporters. The condemnation of the events was immediate:

It is astonishing that such disgraceful scenes are permitted. – We would earnestly recommend to the Magistrates of the District, the indicting of all the parties concerned in this shameless transaction.

West Briton, December 17 1819

The same newspaper called for the “full severity of the law” when cases of wife sale are brought to court²⁶. Another broadsheet thought the law wasn’t severe enough when dealing with William Hodge:

…an offence so disgusting, that we hope it will never be repeated in this county, [Hodge] got off with the lenient punishment of only three months confinement at hard labour…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, July 15 1820, p4

If the above journalist judged three months hard labour as ‘lenient’, one dreads to think what they envisaged as a more draconian punishment. It was a sentence severe enough for William Hodge however: he was dead a couple of months later.

The case even made the London press, and was scrutinised in an equally dim light:

It is hoped that the punishment inflicted in this case, and the determination of the Magistrates to visit every such offence in future with the severity of the law, will put a stop to a practice which has latterly occurred in different parts of the country.

British Press, 19/4/1820, p4

All these indictments are as nothing compared to the near-hysterical outpouring of the magistrate at the hearing, Mr Joseph Edwards²⁷. It’s worth an extended quotation:

…such a breach of decency, of good manners, tending to destroy the moral feelings of a society…was a crime of no common cast, a direct violation of the laws, of religion and morality…That one man should be found to participate in such a transaction, revolting to human nature, to become a bidder in a public market for any woman…was so repugnant to the dictates of humanity…an offence of the most atrocious description…Here, in a Christian country, had the prosecutors neglected to expose the authors of so infamous an outrage, they would have been guilty of a gross dereliction of duty.

Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3

We can almost see Edwards, breathless and florid after his speech, eyes ablaze with moral righteousness, and Rebecca Hodge and William Andrew, in the dock, heads bowed in shame.

*More Miseries of Modern Life: Being nervous and cross examined by Mr Garrow*, Thomas Rowlandson, 1807. © Trustees of the British Museum.

Or were they? Look again at Rebecca’s thoughts on the auction:

…this man bought me, paid the money, and took me home, where I have remained ever since…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3

I imagine her saying this with a shrug of her shoulders. Somewhere between these two wildly conflicting views of the same event – one matter of fact, even banal, the other apoplectic with rage – we will find the answer to the following question: why did the wife sale happen?

William and Rebecca Hodge were victims. They were, we can safely infer, victims of an unhappy marriage. They were also victims of the 1753 Marriage Act. They were victims of a society and culture that utterly refused to recognise any form of marital divorce, legally or otherwise. Rebecca was a victim of a value system so patriarchal one commentator has remarked that, during this period, “a married woman was the nearest approximation in a free society to a slave”²⁸. What led them into Redruth Market in December 1819 was the acceptance of the fact that a public divorcing ritual – a wife sale – was practically their last resort at being free of each other. Which leads us to our final observation of the whole affair: the Hodges were also victims of a society and culture whose attitudes toward wife sales were becoming increasingly hostile.

It’s easy to say William and Rebecca Hodge’s marriage was a failure; a more difficult task is to ascertain why this was so. They left behind no diaries, public statements in the press, or even tweets, to give us some idea why they separated after struggling through ten years together. But we can make careful deductions.

The Marriage Act of 1753, pushed through by Lord Chancellor Hardwicke (and not without a good deal of legal chicanery, bribery, and threats), sought to finally stamp out clandestine country marriages and secret contracts, which had been the bane of petty litigation for some time. It also aimed to turn a profit, as it automatically allowed church officials to sell more marriage licences. For the first time in English Law, people under the age of 21 could only marry with the consent of their parent or guardian, and any marriage could be declared null and void unless said marriage was recorded in a Parish register and signed by the bride, groom, two witnesses and the officiating clergyman²⁹.

Philip Yorke, 1st Earl of Hardwicke (1690-1764)³⁰

That said, the poor and labouring classes were still anxious to avoid public church weddings in their own parishes. It might have been a simple desire for privacy, or a tacit need to break the new laws by marrying without parental consent, or to commit bigamy or incest. The easiest way for couples to get a trouble-free marriage was to travel to a crowded city parish and ask for the banns to be called. Others rented rooms in a parish adjacent to their own for a month in order to legally qualify for a marriage licence. By the late 1700s, city churches were registering up to 40 weddings every Sunday, a bombardment of administration impossible to keep check on. The new Act, then, swapped one set of problems for another³¹.

In June 1798, William Hodge married Rebecca Small in St Mary Magdalene Church, Woolwich. We know from his age at death, 40, that Hodge was only in his late teens, maybe 17. Studying the register, it is apparent that the witnesses to the union – Richard Lingard and E. Edwards – were also the witnesses to several other marriages taking place in that particular church that month. We can suggest that Lingard and Edwards may have been church employees, on hand to stand in as witnesses whenever yet another young couple, claiming to be of the parish, took their vows but brought only themselves along for the big day. As Hodge was underage (though he obviously kept quiet about this), and they were on their own, we can posit the argument that parental/guardian consent for Hodge to marry had not been granted – in short, their marriage was illegal, and void. It’s also doubtful, though not certain, if they ever lived in Woolwich at all. They may quite possibly have eloped, from who knows where (possibly Cornwall?), and appeared in St Mary’s to get a quickfire marriage.

London, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1754-1936: Greenwich, St Mary Magdalene, Woolwich, 1763-1826: Ancestry.co.uk

Maybe it was the lack of parental blessing and the knowledge that they could expect no support from that quarter that put unwelcome pressure on the newlyweds. Add to this the furtive knowledge that, considering the new regulations, what they had done was also against the law, and you have two strong reasons to give as to why their relations became strained. So, whatever the truth in the matter, after soldiering on for ten years, they separated, both winding up in Cornwall; or, they had moved to Cornwall in the early 1800s, then separated. But a separation was no divorce.

And it was no divorce, because in those times, divorces did not exist. They were only legalised by the Act of 1857, making the process secular, cheaper, and allegedly accessible to all rungs of society. Before this, if a couple wished to separate, there were four options open to them. They could sue in the church courts for separation from bed and board, without permission to remarry. Or, they could get a full divorce by Act of Parliament, with permission to remarry, but only if the wife had committed adultery. Third, and this was mainly the reserve of the middle classes, they could agree to a private separation by deed. Finally, for the lower orders, they could simply elope, or desert their spouse. Ill-treated women often did this, and took up with a new lover. Men would do the same, setting up with a new woman as a concubine or committing bigamy, many times leaving the abandoned wife (and any children) to the dictates of parish relief³².

In this context, then, we can dimly see a glimmer of independence on Rebecca’s part, an independence almost exceptional for her time and station: did she leave the destitute, lame, and violent William Hodge and take up with William Andrew of her own accord? From the point of view of our times, who can blame her?

Hodge, we now know, was a criminal and violent. He knifed at least one fellow workhouse inmate, assaulted others, and seems to have spent the last years of his life either in a poor house or in prison for various offences. Rebecca’s statement at the hearing, that she was “never alone with him, he having repeatedly threatened to take away my life”, is entirely plausible given what we know of his disreputable character. If she didn’t lie about where she and Hodge were originally married – and we have proven she didn’t – then it follows she was probably honest when remarking on her husband’s attitude towards her. Combined with the possible pressures on their marriage outlined above, it’s reasonable to assume, then, that Rebecca deserted the inadequate, murderous Hodge, rather than the other way round³³.

Hodge’s dubious personality notwithstanding, this was a massive step for a married woman in Georgian England to take. The prevailing religious and educational dogma taught all levels of society that marriage was sacred and an act of God – which explains why there was no such thing as divorce. This indoctrination kept many marriages together: to leave your spouse was to defy God. External checks kept relationships on an even keel too; the close-knit social relations and inquisitive village culture of the time ensured, or tried to ensure, that a marriage was for life. In leaving Hodge, Rebecca was turning her back on God and society³⁴.

Besides this, a separated wife had no legal status whatsoever, unless the separation was protected by a private deed. All and any income from the wife’s estate could be retained by her estranged husband. All her personal property and any future income could be seized, at any time, by her husband. Any savings she might have squirreled away, belonged to her husband. She was unable to enter into a legal contract, use credit or borrow money, or buy and sell property. Any children she may have had by her husband were answerable only to their father and could be seized by him at any time. The estranged husband’s influence could also extend beyond the grave, with the wife’s estate, property and income liable to be claimed by any relatives in the event of his death. In leaving Hodge, Rebecca was also forsaking any legal rights she might have had – and what she did have wasn’t much³⁵.

At some point when trying to make a new life with William Andrew, Rebecca must have realised that she would never be free of William Hodge. That she told the magistrate that she had seen Hodge after their separation, and that he and Andrew were known to each other, is significant. Maybe Hodge, when not housed in one institution or another, had taken to visiting his wife and her new lover, asking for handouts, issuing threats, pleading sympathy, or just generally being unpleasant. He could have justifiably sued Andrew for criminal conversation and levied crippling damages on the couple. If this is so, he must have been a genuine menace, and upsetting for Rebecca, not to mention William Andrew: anything Rebecca had achieved since leaving her husband could have been claimed at any moment by Hodge, which is possibly a point he maliciously enjoyed making to her. Something had to be done. Rebecca and Andrew were in agreement, but what of Hodge?³⁶

*Selling a Wife*, by Thomas Rowlandson³⁷

Seeing as he had “offered” Rebecca “for sale a hundred times”, he may have taken little convincing. He himself would have been liable to arrest for any debts run up unbeknownst to him by his wife, and he would have definitely wanted to avoid yet another spell at His Majesty’s pleasure. Some estranged husbands took steps to avoid this by making a public statement, absolving themselves from any and all of their errant wife’s financial wrongdoings and threatening litigation against those that sought recompense from him. It’s what Richard Conning, of Redruth, did in 1821. But taking out a notice like this in a broadsheet cost money, and Hodge was not a man of means. A lesser worry of his would have been that, in the event of his death, Rebecca could claim a third of his estate as a dower. It’s very doubtful Hodge had any estate worth the mention, so it’s extremely likely he was a willing participant in Rebecca and Andrew’s plan, one that would

…give public recognition to a prearranged agreement between all three parties…

Stone, Road to Divorce, p145

Lest we forget, he also stood to make a tidy profit³⁸.

What the three of them conspired to do in order to break their ties with the past was of course the wife sale, “popularly believed to be a legal and valid form of divorce”³⁹. Though “in the eyes of the law the rite of wife sale was a non event”⁴⁰, many of the lower and poorer classes held the firm belief that, if certain protocols were observed on the part of those arranging the auction, a wife sale was a perfectly acceptable manner in which to sever all marital, personal, and financial ties with an unwanted spouse: it was a legitimate form of divorce. In 1857, shortly after the passing of the Divorce Act, a magistrate presiding over a case of alleged bigamy “took the opportunity” of

…cautioning persons from believing in the absurd notion which is held by the illiterate, that if a man chooses to offer his wife for sale…he is at liberty to do so. [The magistrate]…hoped the new divorce law would set matters on a better footing.

Cornish Telegraph, October 21 1847, p2. Rebecca, in being able to sign her name, was one, at least, literate person who believed in the ritual of wife sale.

A reporter in the London Advertiser put it more bluntly:

Ignorant people seem not aware that so gross an outrage of decency is punishable by law, and that persons have been convicted of the crime and punished accordingly…

September 28 1819, p3

So inculcated was the notion that wife sales were a genuine form of divorce, one sale in 1820 was declared to be undertaken in Smithfield Market “according to law”⁴¹. Incidentally, this is why neither Rebecca nor Andrew were charged with bigamy at their hearing: to do so would have made wife auctions a legal reality.

Legal or not, wife sales had been a sporadic, but established, part of rural life since Norman times, and cases were still being recorded in the early 1900s⁴². They were an invented tradition, a

…set of practices, normally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature, which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behaviour by repetition, which automatically implies continuity with the past…they are responses to novel situations…

Eric Hobsbawm, in Eric Hobsbawm and T. Ranger, eds., Inventing Traditions, Cambridge Books Online, 2012, p1-2

The novel situation many unhappily married people found themselves in, was that there was no legal form of divorce: marriage was for life, and that was that. Gradually, over time, a set of practices evolved to enable couples to separate relatively painlessly and without the threat of their pasts coming back to haunt them. The wife sale was the invented tradition that the menage à trois of Rebecca, Hodge, and William Andrew turned to in 1819.

Upper Fore Street, Redruth, c1890. Kresen Kernow, corn04197

They may have individually, or collectively, sought – or have been offered – advice on how to go about the ritual; it’s not inconceivable one or more of them actually witnessed a sale themselves. Although their sale was “the first of the kind at Redruth”⁴³, the magistrate at their hearing, Mr Joseph Edwards, remarked (amongst other things) that

Very few [wife sales] had occurred in this [county], and that only within the last year or two…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3

Their transaction took place during one of the peak decades of documented auctions, and indeed featured the most important hallmarks of a classic wife sale. There may have been more acts and rituals involved here that were also typical of a sale, but the reports do not include them⁴⁴.

That the sale took place in Redruth Market is crucial to the legitimacy of the sale. A public place, a “nexus of exchange”⁴⁵, in full view of the community, was vital to conferring verisimilitude on the transaction. In 1789 it’s recorded that a wife in Thame had to be re-sold as her original sale hadn’t taken place in the market⁴⁶. Although decidedly barbaric to our refined sensibilities, the use of the halter was deeply symbolic and probably derived from the tethering/untethering of livestock and/or property purchased at market. After all, in the culture of the times, a wife was little more than a husband’s property. Also, the delivery of a wife in a halter to her purchaser symbolised to all observing that the husband was completely surrendering the possession of his wife to another, and that he was a willing (or resigned) party in this surrender. All this publicity was also essential in displaying the wife’s consent to the auction – and Rebecca must have had good reason to be a willing participant⁴⁷. Although she described herself as being “confused”⁴⁸ during the auction, Rebecca may have been as complicit in the whole affair as the lady in Thomas Rowlandson’s painting Selling a Wife (1812-14, above), if perhaps not actually grinning openly. Or, alternatively, she might have felt completely degraded – as no doubt many women did – by the proceedings and wanted to get the formalities over with as quickly as possible. There’s no way of knowing.

Other typical features we may observe are:

i) The form of auction. Hodge presented Rebecca for sale in an open marketplace; those present observed the form of the ritual and recognised it as an open sale – though they may have equally realised that the identity of the winning bidder was a foregone conclusion. (In Smithfield in spring 1820 a wife sale was actually advertised like a formal auction by way of handbills posted in different parts of the town, declaring that bidding would begin outside a pub at 3pm sharp⁴⁹.) Though we know one other man bid for Rebecca – “Another person now bid 2s” – and that Andrew was forced by Hodge to up his bid from 2s 3d to the final price of 2s 6d, this was very possibly stage-managed, with the money agreed for in advance, and the other bidder a fellow-conspirator in the sale, pressed upon (and probably assured of a good drink later) to give authenticity to the whole affair⁵⁰.

ii) The exchange of money. This, of course, had to take place at the conclusion of the auction, from purchaser to seller, in public view. As Trevorrow deposed at the hearing, Andrew did indeed pay “the money”, in Redruth Market, in full view of the gaggle of spectators⁵¹.

iii) The solemn transfer of the woman from her seller, or husband, to her new owner. Andrew received Rebecca from Hodge, “and led her off in triumph”, presumably by the halter. Sometimes the sale was toasted by those involved in a local tavern; in Canterbury in May 1820 a labourer, “or rather brute”, sold his “rib”, a “buxom young woman”, and then “seller, purchaser, and purchased” repaired to the nearest tavern for a celebratory libation. It’s unclear if this was the case with our wife sale and, if our previous conclusions are in any way accurate, unlikely⁵².

The most plausible scenario of what took place after the sale is the one given by Rebecca herself: Andrew “took me home, where I have remained ever since”⁵³. She and her new ‘husband’ returned to their lives in Penryn, and Hodge, with the coins jingling in his pocket, went back to his. All three must have been convinced of the correctness of their actions, and would be delighted with the outcome: for a not extravagant sum and a short, sharp spell of public discomfort and scrutiny, Hodge and Rebecca were finally free of each other and could go about their lives without interference from the other. And there, the story might have ended, were it not for the fact that Hodge and Andrew were both indicted and, with Rebecca, received summons to appear at the Quarter Sessions⁵⁴.

It’s with great irony that we actually know anything about this wife sale at all. If it had occurred a hundred, or maybe even fifty years earlier, its very existence would have probably remained forever unknown to us, and I wouldn’t be telling you about it. The onset of the Industrial Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars, and the birth of the Empire changed British culture and society forever. Wife sales, with their close resemblance to, and associations with, peasant customs and folk belief, had no place in the petit-bourgeois hegemony⁵⁵.

Evangelical sensibilities prevalent in many echelons of society at this time also brought-about a sea-change in attitudes to wife sales. Previously, for example in the early eighteenth century, wife sales had been grudgingly viewed with a level of tolerance by the relatively lax church and civil authorities as a convenient method of popular divorce. By 1819, Methodism had taken firm root at all levels in Cornwall, reforming hearts and minds, a precursor to the stereotypical view of prudish Victorian England. There’s little doubt that what the disciples of Wesley (and Wesley himself) discovered on their pilgrimages to West Cornwall in the 1700s was a lawless, godless land of smugglers, wreckers, cut-throats and thugs – or rather, that’s what the Wesleyans portrayed the Cornish as, though maybe not without some accuracy. In 1750 the wreckers of Breage actually dispensed with the method of luring unsuspecting ships (and crews) to their doom on the rocks by means of false lights, and attacked a vessel safely at anchor off the nearby coast. Such shameless bravado, along with wife sales, was soon to be exorcised by the advent of the Wesleyan mission⁵⁶.

More jocular accounts of wife sales such as the one above were shortly to become obsolete⁵⁷

The improvements in education and literacy during this period gave birth to a reading public in England, and the improved mechanisation of printing presses generated a boom in the publication of newspapers and professional journalism⁵⁸. All this served to give greater visibility to criminal cases and scandals – crime sells newsprint, and a report of a juicy wife sale could be guaranteed to fill discussion columns. For example one reader of the Cornish Telegraph felt moved to comment on the frequency of wife sale reports in 1864⁵⁹. In the 1700s and slightly later, such things were quietly tolerated and not deemed newsworthy, and in any case journalism was in its infancy: a reported case of the removal of children from a parish in Lincolnshire in 1819 uncovered the fact of a wife sale that had taken place nearly twenty years previously, but had never been recorded at the time or made it to court⁶⁰.

Paradoxically, therefore, as coverage of wife sales increased, public opinion swung against them. The sale in Redruth Market was as marketable to journalists as it was scandalous, and the story appeared, with characteristic opprobrium, in at least three London newspapers⁶¹. Due to the changing way in which society now viewed wife sales, they truly went underground in the late 1800s. From being a public event, sales now took place in the back rooms of taverns, or in quiet country lanes: under 10 sales are recorded in England in the 1890s. This is why a contemporary review of Thomas Hardy’s novel The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), which of course opens with a wife sale from the early 1800s, can remark of it that this

…is a perfectly credible transaction, especially at the period chosen by the author.

St James’s Gazette, June 5 1886, p7

Credible in the early 1800s maybe, but a thing of the past barely eighty years later.

It is not the purpose of this essay to discuss the “slippery”⁶² nature of the evidence of wife sales, or whether the frequency with which reports of sales appeared in the press are a true barometer of actual sales. Without the newspaper reports, we would know next to nothing of the wife sale that occurred in Redruth in 1819. Tracing the lives of William Hodge, Rebecca, and William Andrew and what motivated their actions in the Market that day would have been impossible had not these actions been deemed morally outrageous and, therefore, newsworthy. Society’s condemnation of their desperate attempt to forge a fresh start and a clean break for themselves – an attempt they clearly believed to be legitimate – has ironically given us a window into their lives, and a window into a society utterly ‘divorced’ from our own.

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

Image from: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/research-publications/jmw-turner/joseph-mallord-william-turner-fore-street-redruth-with-carn-brea-in-the-distance-r1137259
Quote from: https://www.cornwalllive.com/news/cornwall-news/redruth-buttermarket-purchase-marks-further-773274
See: https://www.cornwalllive.com/news/cornwall-news/redruth-revival-breathing-new-life-3107730 , https://cornishstuff.com/2020/06/22/redruth-wins-heritage-action-zone-money/ , https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1475141 , and https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-57332236
From: https://www.cornwalllive.com/whats-on/whats-on-news/gallery/inside-redruth-buttermarket-revamp-food-9700117
From: https://redruth-revival.org/history/
From: https://redruth-revival.org/history/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, October 18 1810, p3; July 2 1841, p4; February 1 1834, p4; August 16 1844, p4; December 21 1849, p6.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, March 28 1835, p2; April 10 1840, p4; July 21 1848, p3; March 22 1844; p3. Falmouth Express, February 7 1839, p4.
See: Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Capital 1848-1875, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1962, p173-92, and John Rule, Albion’s People: English Society 1714-1815, Longman, 1992, p21-5.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 1 1848, p2.
See: https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1475141, and Joyce M. Ellis, The Georgian Town 1680-1840, Palgrave, 2001, p90-3.
Truro Quarter Sessions, April 27, 1824: Kresen Kernow, ref. QS/1/10/561; Royal Cornwall Gazette, June 8 1822, p3; April 5 1839, p4; Falmouth Express, December 7 1839, p4.
Image from: https://londonopia.co.uk/the-wife-auctions-of-spitalfields/
The legend of wife sales are mentioned in the Cornishman, April 14 1949, p4. See Elizabeth Dale’s post on Cornish wife sales here: https://cornishbirdblog.com/2019/10/08/wife-selling-in-cornwall/. For general surveys of wife sales, see: E. P. Thompson, Customs in Common, Penguin, 1991, p404-66, Lawrence Stone, Road to Divorce: England 1530-1987, Oxford University Press, 1990, p141-7, and Samuel Menefee, Wives for Sale: An Ethnographic Study of British Popular Divorce, Basil Blackwell, 1981.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3; West Briton, April 14 1820, p2. London, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1754-1936: Greenwich, St Mary Magdalene, Woolwich, 1763-1826: Ancestry.co.uk.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3; January 20 1816, p2; April 19 1817, p2. Lostwithiel Quarter Sessions, January 12, 1819. Kresen Kernow, ref. QS/1/9/252. John Rule, Albion’s People: English Society 1714-1815, Longman, 1992, p116-35.
Image from: https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofBritain/Victorian-Workhouse/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3; birth, marriage and death details are from Cornwall Parish Clerks Online: https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/
Image from: https://www.vanel.org.uk/cleecops/policing-in-cleethorpes/parish-constables/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, November 2 1833, p2; March 2 1822, p3; April 5 1839, p4; October 18 1839, p2. Lostwithiel Quarter Sessions, January 15 1822. Kresen Kernow, ref. QS/1/10/277. A near-contemporary Parish Officer of Trevorrow was Joseph Burnett, of Lostwithiel. Read his tragic tale here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/03/23/gallows-bell-the-murder-of-joseph-burnett/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, October 14 1842, p2: a Redruth prostitute was imprisoned for drunkenness. By the 1860s Redruth was believed to contain the most courtesans in Cornwall. See: John Van Der Kiste, A Grim Almanac of Cornwall, History Press, 2009, p44-5.
A wife sale at Smithfield Market was broken up by more diligent – and numerous – representatives of law and order in 1820. As reported in the Public Ledger and Daily Advertiser, May 1 1820, p4.
Image from: https://bradfordmuseums.org/wife-selling-in-victorian-bradford/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3.
West Briton, April 14 1820, p2.
Edwards was born in 1772 in Phillack, and died in Truro, in 1834. See: Cornwall Parish Clerks Online, https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/. His will is held by Kresen Kernow, ref. SHM/761.
Lawrence Stone, Road to Divorce: England 1530-1987, Oxford University Press, 1990, p13.
Lawrence Stone, Road to Divorce: England 1530-1987, Oxford University Press, 1990, p121-8.
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_Yorke,_1st_Earl_of_Hardwicke
Stone, Road to Divorce, p129.
Stone, Road to Divorce, p141-3, 368-82.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3.
Stone, Road to Divorce, p1-8.
Stone, Road to Divorce, p1-8.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3; Stone, Road to Divorce, p143.
Image from: https://lichfieldbawdycourts.wordpress.com/2019/09/30/wife-selling-diy-divorce-18th-century-style/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3. Conning’s suit is noted in the Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 28 1821, p1.
Samuel Menefee, Wives for Sale: An Ethnographic Study of British Popular Divorce, Basil Blackwell, 1981, p1.
E. P. Thompson, Customs in Common, Penguin, 1991, p452.
Public Ledger and Daily Advertiser, May 1 1820, p1. The emphasis, tellingly, is the newspaper’s.
Menefee, Wives for Sale, p2.
West Briton, December 17 1819, p2.
Stone, Road to Divorce, p145. There were 40 recorded instances of wife selling in the decade 1810-9. E. P. Thompson records 218 between the years 1760-1880: Customs in Common, p409.
Thompson, Customs in Common, p418.
Thompson, Customs in Common, p420.
Thompson, Customs in Common, p419-21.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3.
Public Ledger and Daily Advertiser, May 1 1820, p4.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3. E. P. Thompson reaches this conclusion in Customs in Common, p428.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3; St James’s Chronicle, May 16 1820, p1. This article condemns the sale as “disgraceful and demoralizing” at the same time as employing such chauvinistic language when describing the purchased female.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 15 1820, p3.
Lostwithiel Quarter Sessions, July 11 1820. Kresen Kernow, ref. QS/1/10/86.
See: Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Revolution, 1789-1848, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1962; and Menefee, Wives for Sale, p5-7.
See: Joanna Thomas, Lost Cornwall: Cornwall’s Lost Heritage, Birlinn, 2007, p1-23 and 164-86, John Rowe, Cornwall in the Age of the Industrial Revolution, Second revised edition, Cornish Hillside Publications, 1993, p34-6, 67.1-67.40, 261.1-261.48, Philip Payton, Cornwall: A History, Cornwall Editions, 2004, p197-206, Thompson, Customs in Common, p442-4.
Image from: https://digital.nls.uk/english-ballads/archive/74895268?mode=fullsize
See: See: Raymond Williams, The Long Revolution, Chatto & Windus, 1961, p156-213.
January 13 1864, p4.
British Press, February 6 1819, p4.
British Press, April 19 1820, p4; Morning Chronicle, April 20 1820, p4; and National Register (London), April 23 1820, p3. The National Register ran the story again the next day on page 3.
Thompson, Customs in Common, p410.

Effigy Burning in 1800s Cornwall

Reading time: 20 minutes

(This post also appears on the Cornish Story Online website.)

Have you ever been caught having extra-marital sex? Ever been a community leader, or public figure, and gone against your community’s wishes? Ever withheld pay from your employees? Ever been a ‘blackleg’? Ever brought shame on your kin, and/or your neighbourhood? If, in 1800s Cornwall, you answered ‘yes’ to one or more of the above questions, something very much like the following might happen to you. This occurred in Camborne, in 1884:

On Friday the effigies of a couple who were supposed to have misconducted themselves, were taken in procession through the streets, and afterwards burnt at Wheal Gerry in the presence of thousands of persons.

Cornish Telegraph, 24 January 1884, p5

The Wheal Gerry Gate, Camborne Cricket Club, Roskear. The site of the mine has long been built over

The crowd would doubtless have created a fearful din through the streets on improvised musical instruments, and all present would have had prior knowledge of who was being effigised and why. For the person or persons whose effigies were being burnt, they would have been horribly aware that they were being subjected to

…a terrible community judgement, in which the victim was made into an outcast, one considered to be already dead. It was the ultimate in excommunication.

E.P. Thompson, Customs in Common, Penguin, 1991, p480

The community was purging itself of its undesirable elements, through a symbolic cleansing by fire.

Effigy burning has been identified by historians as one element of what is known as ‘rough music’ in 18th and 19th century societies. In England the ritual could be known as a ‘skimmington’ or ‘riding the stang’, but the purpose was the same. In an era of inadequate policing, people sought to regulate each other’s behaviour by means of loud, crude, and often violent, public acts of shaming. Burning an effigy of the person(s) who had offended the body politic was a frequent feature of 1800s rough music, which of course had its roots in the popularity of Bonfire Night and, going back further, the burning of heretics during the time of the Reformation¹.

In Cornwall, effigy burning and rough music is not to be confused with the tradition of a shallal, meaning ‘making an almighty din’. This custom, though equally abhorrent to the authorities, was a community’s raucous, drink-fuelled celebration of a new marriage, “a way”, wrote A.L. Rowse, of “keeping up a wedding”. A procession of rough music, culminating in the firing of an effigy was, as we shall see, the polar opposite of a shallal in 1800s Cornwall².

From 1800-1899, there was approximately 81 reported instances of effigy burning (or instances involving an effigy – eight were halted before firing) in Cornwall, from Callington, down to Penzance and beyond. Curiously, as the century progressed, so did the frequency of reported burnings: a total of 63, or 77%, occurred between the years 1870-99. Burnings that happened in these years will be the main focus of this post, and the reasons behind this perceived increase in effigy burnings will be discussed later³.

Taking these 63 burnings, I’ve broken down the motivations behind a person(s) effigy going up in flames into the following categories:

Reason	Total
Committing a crime	3
Labour-related	3
Public nuisance	12
Personal relationships	32
Political	7
No reason given	6

Of course, all these instances would have been viewed by the authorities as a public nuisance; to this day it’s still a felony to start a bonfire within 50ft of a highway, and yet many burnings took place in the centre of towns. For example, in Falmouth, in 1888, a protest against the activities of the local Sewerage Board culminated in an effigy being burnt on the Moor. Indeed, any culprits of effigy burning who were caught – and there were very few – could expect a fine⁴.

The most frequent category, ‘personal relationships’, covers a very broad church: adultery, elopement, desertion, battery, unsuitable partnerships (such as a vast disparity in age, or one partner being considerably wealthier than the other), or often a combination of two or more of these. At Mylor in 1877, an elderly, married, and wealthy man, described as an “ancient Adonis”, eloped with a local teenager. The happy couple’s effigies were consumed by fire that same evening⁶.

Of course, not every crime or misdemeanour in 1800s Cornwall was celebrated with the guilty parties having their likenesses turned to ashes in their hometown. Any occurrences perceived to be truly out of the ordinary, or utterly beyond the pale of decency, were likely to be dealt with harshly.

For example, in Porthleven in 1882,

There is a fellow here in the habit of sculking [sic] about in the remote corners of our thoroughfares, where little children are playing, and there indecently exposing himself to them…

Cornishman, 20 April 1882, p4

The Porthleven Flasher was never caught, but his sordid career was mercifully brief. To “demonstrate disgust”, a crowd burnt two effigies in the town one Friday night, and lynched another. The exposures ceased⁷.

In 1892, a wife-beater in St Dennis was left in no uncertain terms as to how his heavy hand was viewed by the community:

To show the public feeling on the matter, an effigy was hanged to a tree, and afterwards cut down and burnt, and the ashes were put in a coffin and buried.

St Austell Star, 14 October 1892, p4

The word then went about the village: anyone else caught treating their wife in “such a disgraceful manner”, could expect a “similar experience”⁸.

In both these instances, the forces of law and order are conspicuously absent: they never apprehended the Porthleven Flasher nor, to the best of my knowledge, investigated the goings-on at St Dennis. And they certainly never called a halt to the subsequent rituals in both these places. Mob justice ruled. All this raises some interesting questions about the levels of policing in that era.

The Camborne area in the 1880s was a hot-bed of effigy burning and rough music. Matters were so out of hand that a lively march through Trelowarren Street of the local Salvation Army Band was believed to be “another effigy procession” and drew an attendant crowd of thrillseekers. The perpetrators of effigy burning acted with seeming impunity⁹. In 1886

Two effigies, representing a man and woman…were carried through Tregajorran and Pool on Thursday evening…they were afterwards burnt at Carn Brea.

Cornubian and Redruth Times, 25 June 1886, p7

Consider the distance covered. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, the march began at East Hill, Pool, went to Chapel Hill, Tregajorran, and then enjoyed a fiery termination atop Carn Brea. That’s two miles, give or take. That’s a two mile stank for a substantial, aggressive crowd, making all manner of loud, tuneless commotion, with two effigies at their head, and probably carrying a barrel of tar, kindling, and possibly even lit torches. And no officer of the law stopped them. Cornwall Live would have had a field day. This kind of thing happened regularly, and went unchecked, equally regularly. Why?

Firstly, 1800s Cornwall was sparsely policed, even after the formation of the Cornwall Constabulary in 1857. In 1873 the Superintendent for the whole Penzance borough was stationed at Camborne, and the town itself was manned by only five officers: little wonder that, during the October riots in Camborne of that year, the militia had to be called in¹⁰.

To take a further example, at Treen in 1887, PC Oliver was on the spot, preventing “violence by stones” as a mob of two hundred locals subjected a wife beater to some rough music. Oliver single-handedly dispersed the crowd but, the next night, with Oliver absent, violence broke out again, with windows broken and effigies burnt.

Oliver’s non-appearance is more understandable when you’re aware that he was the only policeman for the parishes of St Buryan, St Levan, and Sennen. That’s a lot of ground to cover¹¹.

Obviously, when PC Oliver was around, his presence must have carried a certain authority. In contrast, PC Grose, of Tintagel, was brutally assaulted when trying to stop the burning of an effigy of a man alleged to have got into “ill repute” with his neighbour. Rural policemen in this era were regularly dealt with in this manner by the populace¹².

Of course, law enforcement officers effectively and quietly doing their jobs have never really been very newsworthy, but any shortcomings are likely to be closely scrutinised. Thus it was in Launceston in 1882, when plainclothes officers were unable to quell a riot and effigy burning, one disgusted townsman noting a constable promenading about the streets carrying an umbrella, rather than wielding a pickstaff and arresting hooligans¹³.

The police being remiss as regards disturbances related to the concerns of the working classes is one thing, but what of the interests of the middle and governing classes – the very people a Victorian police force would surely look to protect from crime?

On Guy Fawkes Night in Helston, 1885, thousands of people paraded the streets with an effigy “dressed in military costume” and bearing a placard reading “We want our rights”. The effigy was protected by a menacing bodyguard of cudgel-bearing men as it was borne through the town to Lower Green (now Coronation Lake), where a baying mob a thousand strong was waiting. Blue and red lights were burned, and the effigy was fired, to much celebration, over a barrel of tar¹⁴.

Lower Green, Helston, Submerged for Coronation Lake in 1912

While all this was going on, the Town Council were sitting to decide who should be Mayor for the forthcoming year. The present incumbent, Frederick Vivian Hill of Penhellis House, knew full well the effigy was to be burned, and why. A couple of days earlier, Captain John Peverell Rogers of the Royal Artillery, who resided at Penrose House, had written to Hill, requesting that he keep the peace on November 5, and that his effigy not be burnt. Rogers had blocked the public right of way along Penrose Walk, a move which had made him detested in the town.

Hill ignored Rogers’ pleas – after all, it was Bonfire Night, and the fire on Lower Green was legally beyond 50ft of any highway. No policemen intervened, and the people’s outrage was sated. Hill was elected Mayor for the forthcoming year that same night¹⁵.

As the above events suggest, even authority figures and/or their representatives were not safe from the ire of the public. At Paul, in 1888, the parishioners opposed the enforced tax for a new road, and burned the effigy of a local collector. In St Ives in 1875 the losing candidate in the mayoral elections was effigised and burnt, along with those of his supporters. It was hoped that none of the victorious party had taken part, for if so it would mean the “political doom of the borough”¹⁶.

Politicians were not the only people in danger of a taste of Cornish rough music and the bonfire. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the working classes had their differences with their employers, which sometimes boiled over.

A pay dispute at Boscaswell Downs Mine, St Just, in 1874, went badly for Captain Williams. One evening, the mine bell rang, calling the miners to grass, and there to greet them on the yard wall was Williams’s effigy, with a lighted candle in its mouth. The effigy was then roasted over a barrel of tar. The “stupidity” of such “illegal” practices was noted in the ‘papers, and that the actions of the miners “cannot help the payment of what is due to them”. Perhaps so, but the issue was now in the public eye, and Captain Williams must have been under no illusions as to his standing amongst the men¹⁸.

Irish Nationalists prepare to fire the effigy of Sir Edward Carson, Derry, August 1913. Carson advocated Home Rule and was a founder of the Ulster Volunteer Force¹⁹. With thanks to Chris McKnight, Old Photos of Derry, Facebook

Illegal or not, effigising the supposed wrongdoers in a labour dispute could serve as a powerful deterrent to further perceived malpractices. In Truro in 1886, the effigies of two bargemen were lynched from a mast at Lemon Quay, and then torn to pieces in the streets. The bargees had – foolishly, on reflection – agreed to work at reduced rates²⁰.

We can now see that effigy burning and rough music in late 1800s Cornwall could take place in practically any location, from the relatively remote, such as Crowlas, or Piece, to the more populous mining districts, such as Redruth. It was here, in 1875, that the town was subject to weeks of effigy burning at East End, West End, and Redruth Highway (nowadays the A393), one instance involving the effigy being paraded through the streets on a donkey²¹.

As noted earlier, by far the most frequent cause of an effigy burning was what I have chosen to call ‘personal relationships’: 32 out of 63 instances. And it is these incidents which can lead us to attempt to answer the following:

Why did the enthusiasm for effigy burning increase, rather than decrease, through the 1800s? Why, paradoxically, when the great advances of the Industrial Revolution sounded the death-knell for so many ancient rituals and feast days, did effigy burning, described in 1896 as an “old custom”²², not just survive but apparently flourish?

As A. K. Hamilton Jenkin noted, in 1800s Cornwall

…any amusement of the working classes which was not discouraged by the gentry as tending to idleness was condemned…as incompatible with the Christian calling…the old national pastimes of Cornwall…were discouraged almost to the point of extinction.

The Cornish Miner, 3rd ed., Allen & Unwin, 1962, p129

Obby Oss, Padstow, 2022. One tradition to have survived for centuries

Effigy burning certainly fits the bracket as ‘old’. A ‘skimmingham’ (surely a reference to a ‘skimmington’, an alternative name for rough music) riot is described as having occurred in Penzance in 1749. If rough music was around then, it’s reasonable to assume that effigy burning was around too²³.

A burning at East End, Redruth in 1891 was described as according to the “rudeness and superstition of a century ago”. Furthermore, in 1892, a lady in her 70s from Black Rock, near Crowan, told of how her mother would recall that the villagers would get up “effigies” if “people’s moral character was bad”. When we remember that rough music was also a part of English rural life from the late 1600s, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that rough music, and with it effigy burning, enjoyed a similar vintage in Cornwall too²⁴.

If effigy burning was probably a very old practice, it was certainly ‘incompatible’ with modern society and was definitely discouraged: governors did not like the governed to take the law into their own hands. A Redruth burning in 1885 was described as one of the “relics of barbarism”²⁵. Similarly, at Camborne in 1877, effigy burning there was said to be indicative of ignorance “so rife”, and superstition “so prevalent”, that it was a wonder civilisation, and the law and order that went with it, had progressed at all²⁶. “Is there”, complained one pained letter-writer on the subject, “no authority to relieve us?”²⁷.

Yet reports of effigy burnings continued, and this is the crux: with the increased media coverage, and the increased literacy levels, of the 1800s, reports of burnings rose, whereas in previous times burnings may have been deemed either not worthy of reporting, or simply weren’t recorded, anywhere, at all. Newspaper coverage in the early 1800s was sparse in Cornwall; before 1829 there were only two such organs, the Royal Cornwall Gazette (launched in 1801), and the West Briton (1810), with the Falmouth Packet rolling off the presses in 1829. By 1880, there were a dozen newspapers in Cornwall²⁸. all reaping the benefits of the Industrial Revolution’s improvements of the printing process. Likewise, more people were able to read: in 1885, 83% of Cornwall’s population had some degree of literacy, whereas in 1845 it was only 67% for men, and 46% for women²⁹. This ‘new reading public’³⁰, hungry for news, was actively sought out as an untapped market for the new journalists. Witness this shameless piece of self-promotion from The Cornishman. It’s a supposed conversation between two St Buryan ladies:

Martha: Lor gwane to git the Cornishman fer sumthen wurth reeden…

Jane: …The Cornishman do prent so much good things lately…

12 October 1893, p7

And what better ‘good thing’ to print than a juicy sex scandal, with some effigy burning thrown in?

To give one example of many, in Penponds, in 1883, a married man and woman were known to have become “enamoured” of each other. One night, accompanied by a crowd of thousands singing hymns and backed by a tuneless accordion, their effigies were paraded from Penponds, to Treswithian, and back to Penponds, where they were burned before the woman’s house. This story was covered by the Cornish Telegraph twice, and the Royal Cornwall Gazette. To put it bluntly, sex sells³¹.

Or, to take an alternative argument, it might just be that, as media coverage increased and journalism improved, so effigy burnings relating to personal relationships increased also. From 1857, adultery was no longer a crime³², and it’s possible that, as adulterers could no longer be tried in court, a rougher form of judgement was wrought on them by their communities. The increasing influence of Methodism, too, with its heightened morals, would have meant many converts would have taken a very dim view of any ‘compromised’ parishioners. Maybe it’s significant that, shortly before the burning in Penponds, many of the village were converted to the teachings of John Wesley³³.

Whether or not effigy burning increased in late 1800s Cornwall as a reaction to a perceived sense of loosened morals, or whether reporters merely gave them better coverage, is unknowable. Maybe it was a combination of both. Whatever the answer, to be burnt in effigy was a thing to be feared, and was conclusively viewed by the authorities as a public nuisance, that could harbour serious consequences.

In 1888, the body of a man was found in a field near Terrace Hill, Lostwithiel. It was discovered that he had originally come from Lanivet, but had left due to the “unbearable conduct” of the people there. The villagers, for an undisclosed reason, had held a procession against him, and burnt his effigy. Unable to cope with the brutality of his community’s verdict on him, he had taken his own life, cutting his throat with a razor. The coroner concluded he was of “unsound mind” at the time of his death³⁴.

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

E.P. Thompson, Customs in Common, Penguin, 1991, p480-2.
As used by Cornwall’s art-based charity: https://shallal.org/. People were fined for holding a shallal in St Ives in 1864. See: Cornish Telegraph, 22 June 22 1864, p3. A.L. Rowse, A Cornish Childhood, Truran, 2010, p5. Shallals were also surveyed in the Cornishman, 14 December 1927, p4, and the West Briton, 17 October 1996, p33.
West Briton, 2 February 1870, p11; Cornishman, 31 March 1881, p4.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, 26 May 1888, p4. Two youngsters from Long Rock out of a crowd of 60 were fined in 1885. Cornishman, 14 May 1885, p5.
From Falmouth Poly: https://thepoly.org/whats-on/event/772/falmouth-history-archive-the-history-of-the-moor
Royal Cornwall Gazette, 28 September 1877, p4.
Cornishman, 11 May 1882, p6.
St Austell Star, 14 October 1892, p4.
Cornish Telegraph, 19 July 1883, p5.
See my article on the riots here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/09/30/the-camborne-riots-of-1873-part-one/
Cornishman, 2 February 1887, p4.
Cornish and Devon Post, 16 July 1892, p4; Clive Emsley, The Great British Bobby: A History of British Policing From the 18th Century to the Present, Quercus, 2009, p50-6 and 84-90.
Cornish and Devon Post, 11 November 1882, p3.
Cornish Telegraph, 12 November 1885, p5.
Kresen Kernow, RH/9/7/3/57.
Cornishman, 25 October 1888, p5; Cornish Telegraph, 14 April 1875, p4.
Image from: https://www.masarnenramblers.com/swcp-day-21—lower-boscaswell—porthcurno.html
Cornish Telegraph, 6 May 1874, p2.
For more on Carson, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Carson#
Cornubian and Redruth Times, 26 November 1886, p7.
Cornish Telegraph, 16 April 1885, p8; Cornishman, 23 August 1883, p4; Royal Cornwall Gazette, 16 June 1875, p4, and 3 July 1875, p6, Cornish Telegraph, 23 June 1875, p3.
Cornish Post and Mining News, 19 November 1896, p4.
Morrab Library Archive, Penzance, BOR/192.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, 10 September 1891, p5; Cornishman, 13 October 1892, p4; E. P. Thompson, Customs in Common, Penguin, 1991, p467.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, 11 September 1885, p2.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, 20 April 1877, p4.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, 27 April 1877, p6.
For the record: Commercial Shipping & General Advertiser, Cornish and Devon Post, Cornish Echo, Cornish Post & Mining News, Cornish Telegraph, Cornish Times, Cornishman, Cornubian and Redruth Times, Lake’s Falmouth Packet, Royal Cornwall Gazette, St Austell Star, West Briton.
See: https://bernarddeacon.com/2020/07/19/how-literate-were-our-victorian-ancestors/
See: Raymond Williams, The Long Revolution, Chatto & Windus, 1961, p156-213.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, 9 March 1883, p4; Cornish Telegraph, 3 March 1883, p5 and 8 March 1883, p5.
See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matrimonial_Causes_Act_1857
Cornishman, 1 February 1883, p7.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, 20 December 1888, p7.

The Madwoman of Rosewarne House?

Reading time: 30 minutes

Through all the ways of our unintelligible world, the trivial and the terrible walk hand in hand together… ~ Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White (1860)

Jarndyce and Jarndyce drones on. This scarecrow of a suit has, over the course of time, become so complicated, that no man alive knows what it means. The parties to it understand it least; but it has been observed that no two Chancery lawyers can talk about it for five minutes without coming to a total disagreement as to all the premises… ~ Charles Dickens, Bleak House (1853)

Legends…make what are perceived to be extraordinary claims. Because legendary narratives tend…to make such claims, they require the deployment of a rhetoric to ally doubts and foil challenges. ~ Elliott Oring, “Legendry and the Rhetoric of Truth”, The Journal of American Folklore, 121.480 (2008): p127-166

She called herself The Duchess of Cornwall, they said. She claimed there was a plot to take away her property, or even poison her, they said. She believed listening devices were in the walls of her homes, they said. She’d ordered her gardens to be dug up, to locate the tunnel she imagined her enemies used to infiltrate her mansion, they said.

She carelessly left piles of cash unattended in her rooms. Her wealth was indeed bordering on the incalculable.

She wrote rambling letters full of fantastic – and accusatory – tales.

She issued her butler pistols with which he was to shoot employees of the Marquis of Westminster.

She laid claim to the throne of England, and was alleged to have stated that Queen Victoria had been sentenced to death.

Small wonder, then, in December 1843 a jury found that Mary Hartley nee Harris was

…of unsound mind, and incapable of managing herself or her affairs…

With almost supernatural powers of precision, the same jury backdated her insanity to having commenced on October 31, 1834¹.

One of the upper rooms of Roswarne (formerly Rosewarne, and Gladys Holman) House, Camborne. By the author

Yes, in modern parlance, Mary Hartley was stark raving mad. She became a solitary, reclusive figure on her Rosewarne Estate in Camborne, a figurehead of Cornish gentility shorn of the power to administer her vast inheritance. Meanwhile, the legends grew, serving to further reinforce the judgment handed down to her in 1843. By 1871 it was remarked of her that she believed Rosewarne to be infested by serpents².

Of course, by now Hartley herself could neither confirm nor deny this particular rumour.

In 1868 Cornwall’s own ‘madwoman in the attic’ cemented her reputation for all time as a raving lunatic. Whether by accident or design is unclear, but alone in her rooms at Rosewarne one dark night, Mary Hartley burned to death³.

Note Mary Hartley’s entry on the timeline of the owners of Rosteague House, near Gerrans. Rosteague was Hartley’s summer residence and she had only recently returned to Rosewarne before her death in 1868⁴

Surely such an horrific demise was reserved solely for those on society’s margins, such as the insane? To be sure, Mary Hartley wasn’t the last Victorian madwoman to go up in flames, or meet a similarly gruesome end⁵.

You may think my tone is somewhat insensitive. But isn’t Mary Hartley’s madness a well-known and accepted fact? Professor Brown’s in-house guide to Rosewarne gives the story ample coverage. Her name on the list of Rosteague’s owners (see image above) is preceded by the sobriquet “mad”.

But, due to the harrowing circumstances of her death, the estate of Rosewarne is the one with which Mary Hartley is most often associated. She was mad, as was her son, William Henry Harris Hartley (1823-94). He had been judged to be as mad as his mother at the conclusion of the 1843 investigation. It was this double-madness that generated decades of litigation into confirming the rightful heir of Rosewarne, Rosteague, and everything else that had landed in Mary Hartley’s lap.

Though extensively restored, it’s hard not to imagine Mary Hartley’s troubled figure endlessly pacing Roswarne. By the author

But this post isn’t overly concerned with the painfully convoluted inheritance trials, which after all are pretty common knowledge. A piece on the subject would take years to write, and I would require extensive legal training.

What concerns us here is the manner in which Mary Hartley’s insanity has, since 1843, been generally accepted as gospel.

It’s the contention of this post that, for people to benefit from the Harris/Hartley wealth, Mary had to be insane. If the poor lady was, in fact, sane, then there would have been no protracted (and costly) legacy hearings, hearings realised at the time as notably profligate:

…for centuries estates have vanished from rightful owners, Chancery hugged its spoils, and its myrmidons laughed and grown fat.

The motivations of those involved might have been questioned, but Mary’s sanity wasn’t. Cornishman, July 8 1897, p5

To begin to understand why Mary Hartley may not have been as deranged as is often made out, we first need to trace the facts of her life up to 1843. Then we also need to consider the judgment made on her as insane in its historical context. Then we can ask another question: cui bono – who benefits?

Thus, Mary Hartley might be remembered more as an actual human being, rather than a Victorian caricature of a raving yet rich heiress too insane to be even seen in society, whose tragic end is oddly fitting.

Detail from a 1907 map of Camborne. Kresen Kernow, ref. DV/5/124

Mary’s grandfather was Thomas Harris (c1701-88), a scion of the wealthy Devonshire Harris family. By the 1740s he was the owner of the manor of Roswarne Wartha, or Higher Rosewarne, and had a healthy interest in Cornwall’s boom industry: mining⁶.

In 1749 he struck a deal with another up and coming mineral entrepreneur, Christopher Hawkins of Trewinnard, St Erth. Hawkins had permission to open a sett on Higher Rosewarne to mine for copper and tin; Harris of course got a percentage of the profits. Soon, the money began to roll in, and Thomas, along with his two sons William (c1738-1815), and Henry (c1749-1830), could extend his family’s operations and influence⁷.

An engraving of a mine in the Camborne area, early 1800s⁸

By 1775, stamping mills had been erected at Rosewarne, and the mine became known as Wheal Chance. In 1779 its engine house was due an upgrade, and the builders were given three weeks to do the job⁹.

And the cash kept piling up. William Harris was involved with the Cornish Copper Company, who purchased properties from him in 1779 worth £4,000, or £584K today¹⁰. The family had interests in the Camborne/Tuckingmill setts of Wheal Gerry, Wheal Hatchet, Wheal Vernon and Wheal Lovely¹¹, Wheal Crenver at Crowan¹², Penhale near Carnhell Green¹³, Nancemellin near Gwithian¹⁴, and setts at Barripper and Penponds¹⁵. (This list is far from exhaustive.)

With the money from mining, came power. By 1773, William Harris was Sheriff of Cornwall¹⁶. He held lands at Roseworthy, St Breock, Crowan, and Godolphin Manor at Breage¹⁷.

The man who built Rosewarne, and whose portrait hangs by the entrance – William Harris. By the author

In 1768, Thomas Harris had acquired the ancient manor of Rosteague, on the Roseland peninsula. This he bequeathed to Henry¹⁸.

William got Higher Rosewarne. At this point the property probably resembled Roswarne Wollas, or Lower Rosewarne, itself the proud possessor of a colourful history¹⁹. Evidently desiring a dwelling befitting a man of his station (and doubtless wanting a pile as grandiose as his kid brother’s), William set about developing Rosewarne into the beautiful, neo-classical Georgian mansion we see today²⁰.

William Harris probably never saw the completion of Rosewarne; he was dead by December 1816. He also never saw how much the industry he invested so heavily (and so successfully) in would transform Camborne. If he had intended Rosewarne to be a country retreat along the lines of the Basset family’s Tehidy Estate, he was to be mistaken.

Roswarne’s rear courtyard contains some of the original buldings. By the author

In around 1819 the town’s population was estimated to be around 400; by 1880, the total was put at 7,000. Tuckingmill, once a village, had been swallowed up, and Treswithian was under threat. Rosewarne was now very much a town-house²².

On William’s death, Rosewarne went to his daughter Mary, who had been born in 1791. When her uncle Henry died without issue in 1830, Rosteague became hers too. Mary also took possession of houses on The Crescent, Bath, and Grosvenor Square, Mayfair. In 1843 her estates generated an annual income of £5,000. In 2024, that figure would be £533,840/annum²³.

Mary was stupendously wealthy, and apparently at all times

…exhibited self-will and eccentricity, such as is usually observable in rich heiresses and only children…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4

So, Mary was a spoilt rich brat, as well as later going mad? The above statement was made by Sir William Carpenter Rowe (1801-1859), a lawyer from Launceston who became Chief Justice of Ceylon²⁴. He made this appraisal of Mary’s character in support of the investigation into her alleged lunacy in 1843. He was presenting his opinion of her personality to realise the commission’s goal: to have Mary declared insane.

Therefore Rowe’s statement is unreliable. You could infer, though, that Mary was independently-minded and possibly rebellious, and didn’t fit neatly into the Regency/Victorian ideal of a chaste, obedient and meek lady.

*The Elopement*, by Theodore Lane, 1825²⁵

In 1819 she ran away and married, at the British Embassy in Paris, Winchcombe Henry Eyre Hartley (1773-1847), a judge who had been employed in South Africa. It’s hard to ascertain, over two hundred years later, what exactly Mary’s motivations were²⁶.

She might have married – against her family’s wishes – genuinely from love. Or, it might have been a match made on the rebound: her involvement with a Penzance gentleman had been thwarted by the Harris seniors²⁷.

In contrast it’s relatively straightforward to unravel Eyre Hartley’s intentions. A widower, he had five children by his first wife, Lady Louisa Lumley-Saunderson (1773-1811). She was a daughter of the 4th Earl of Scarborough, a peer of the realm whose ancestor had put a King on the throne of England²⁸.

Having married into money, land and power once, with Mary, Eyre took the opportunity to do so again. He also got a bride twenty years his junior and may have hoped for a compliant wife to tend him in his dotage.

At first, he was proved right. Mary’s dowry (held in trust by Sir Christopher Hawkins, who’s not to be confused with her grandfather’s old business partner) included the parish of Kenwyn, land at Penponds and various mining interests²⁹.

Obviously, as Eyre’s wife Mary also surrendered any legal rights she may have had. Georgian England had a value system so patriarchal one commentator has remarked that

…a married woman was the nearest approximation in a free society to a slave…

Laurence Stone, Road to Divorce: England, 1530-1987, Oxford University Press, 1990, p13

With the birth in 1823 of their son William, Eyre Hartley ensured the Harris wealth would now go to his family.

But all was not well with the marriage. Shortly after William’s birth, the couple executed what was known at the time as a deed of separation. Hawkins and the noted St Erth engineer Davies Gilbert were the deed’s trustees³⁰.

Carpenter Rowe lays the blame for their breakdown of relations solely at Mary’s door, citing the

…temper of the lady and her eccentric habits…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4

But then he would say that. In order for Mary (and lest we forget, her son) to be declared insane, her reputation must be made as questionable as possible. If that meant implying that she was half-way down the road to the asylum in the 1820s, then so be it.

In truth, there is no evidence whatsoever to suggest why Mary and Eyre could no longer cohabit. It could just as easily have been Eyre’s temper and eccentricity that precipitated the separation. In fact, that is exactly what Mary said before the Lunacy Commission of 1843 – but nobody listened³¹.

With divorce in Georgian England an impossibility, the lower orders resorted to desperate measures to extricate themselves from an unhappy marriage. This is an engraving of an alleged wife sale at Smithfield Market in 1797³²

Mary got custody of her son. Eyre had to relinquish the assets included in Mary’s dowry, but still received annual payments from her estates. In 1825 Mary finalised her will, which made it plain that Eyre Hartley or any member of his family was to have nothing to do with her property³³.

A separation is not a divorce. Eyre Hartley had married money twice, and both times failed to realise lasting riches. A third attempt was now out of the question. Mary was effectively a well-off single mum for the rest of her life.

In the late 1820s, Sir Christopher Hawkins, along with Davies Gilbert, decided Mary was incapable of managing her estates by herself. By 1830 a suit in Chancery was granted and John Tyacke, a businessman and oyster farmer of Merthen Manor, Constantine, was appointed to receive the rents³⁴.

The conventional image of Tyacke is that of a trusted and loyal confidante of Mary³⁵. But we might be well advised to remember that the man mainly responsible for his appointment, Hawkins, was probably the most avaricious and corrupt Cornishman of the whole Georgian era³⁶.

Luckily for Mary, he was dead a year before Tyacke took up his station. If Hawkins did have designs on her wealth, orchestrating one of his proteges to collect the money was certainly one way to go about it.

Therefore we have to ask if Mary was truly incapable of managing her estates at this stage, or did Hawkins (with Gilbert) manipulate the whole suit for his own ends? Certainly, Tyacke made the most of his situation. In 1844, he was selling Rosteague’s deer – but where was the money going?³⁸

And Mary clearly bridled at the arrangement, on two points. First, that she still had to hand over an annual sum to Eyre Hartley; second, that Tyacke controlled the purse strings. In 1832 he was ordered to pay Hartley’s annuity,

…despite wishes of Mary Hartley…

Kresen Kernow, ref. FS/3/1547/7

In 1841 a labourer on the Rosteague estate was dismissed for paying his rents directly to Tyacke, and not to Mary. Tragically the man became so confused and disheartened he later killed himself³⁹.

Is it really very surprising, therefore, that Mary began to suspect people had nefarious designs on her wealth, that her Harris inheritance might be wrested from her?

She had an estranged husband whom she claimed had been abusive, yet could still profit from her property. Small wonder she petitioned Parliament for an actual divorce⁴⁰. She had another man, Tyacke, foisted upon her and who, in collecting her rents, was surely acting as if he himself was lord of the (many) manors.

She made regular attempts to reassert her authority, an authority that was rapidly diminishing:

Desperation was setting in. Mary began to style herself ‘Duchess of Cornwall’ in person and in writing, tooled around Bath in a coach-and-four emblazoned with complex coats of arms, and had her rooms decked out in the manner of a monarch of ancien regime France⁴¹.

Lawyers, men of standing and Mayors were bombarded with letters, telling stories of conspiracies to steal her fortune:

…I must request that the town clerk may not be consulted, as it is publicly known that the system of eavesdropping, &c…at his house is connected with the difficulties of my case in various ways…

London Weekly Chronicle, December 10 1843, p3

More than one exasperated solicitor abandoned her completely, leading to a certain unravelling in her estates’ affairs⁴².

All of which served as grist to Mary’s mill. Very soon, people were genuinely acting to release her from the cares of her wealth and property.

The Lunacy Commission’s Report of 1847. The Commission was a government body until 1913⁴³

With the passing of the 1828 Madhouse Act, two people (often relatives of the suspected lunatic) had to notify two different doctors in writing of their concerns. The doctors would each interview the subject and, if required, sign certificates of lunacy⁴⁴.

Maybe the individuals who first expressed their concerns for Mary’s (and her son’s) sanity genuinely had her best interests at heart. Maybe they sincerely believed the woman needed help.

However, the duo in question here were Winchcombe Henry Hartley (1803-1858), a son of Eyre Hartley by his first marriage, and Lady Louisa Saville, the aunt of Eyre’s dead wife, Louisa Lumley-Saunderson⁴⁵.

As noted earlier, Mary’s will of 1825 had debarred any of the Hartleys from succeeding to her estates. True, Eyre Hartley received a healthy annuity, but what about the real money? If Winchcombe and Louisa could get Mary declared mad, along with Winchcombe’s own half-brother, William, then might not the will of 1825 be invalid..?

If that proved too ambitious, then might not the Hartleys contrive to benefit in some other way?

In the 1840s, people lived in fear of wrongful committal to an asylum. The caption to this sketch is *Sir, I’m not the lunatic;* that *is the lunatic*, by Hablot Knight-Browne (‘Phiz’), 1840⁴⁶

This may sound cynical and melodramatic, but wrongful incarcerations happened regularly in the early Victorian period. Eccentric, simple-minded and wealthy persons could find themselves certified insane at the hands of their own kin and flung in an asylum, whilst the same unscrupulous relatives took control of the cash⁴⁷.

In fact, so often were perfectly sane people being thrown in the madhouse, that a pressure group formed to investigate any serious cases, and rescue the unfortunate victims. They called themselves the

Though Mary’s case was covered by the London ‘papers, sadly the Society didn’t come to her aid. They didn’t have the wherewithal to take on the Court of Chancery, and assisting allegedly mad women wasn’t really their thing anyway⁴⁸.

Mary would not be confined in an asylum. She would become a particular private patient known as a ‘Chancery lunatic’, whereby her money and property would be under the protection of the Lord Chancellor⁴⁹.

Representing the Chancellor in the day-to-day care of the patient and the administration of their affairs, would be two persons appointed by the Court of Chancery. These officials were paid a percentage of the estate’s wealth, and could claim expenses on the said estate⁵⁰.

Before all that could happen, as a possible ward of Chancery Mary’s state of mind would be investigated at a hearing (for her case, in London) by the Government’s Lunacy Commission. A de lunatico inquirendo, or lunacy inquisition was to be held under the auspices of the Master in Lunacy, Francis Barlow⁵¹.

Barlow had a jury of 18 magistrates in tow, who all listened to a speech lasting six hours by Sir William Carpenter Rowe, the man appointed by Winchcombe Hartley and Louisa Saville to get Mary certified.

Mary chose not to attend, which was probably a good thing. She hadn’t have many friends in the room, and her defence is all-but silent in the reports.

*Bedlam*, by William Hogarth (1697-1764)⁵²

One Bath lawyer told of how the woman had pestered him with her voluminous, barely-coherent letters for over two years. One suspects no lawyer likes to be bothered with a case they can’t hope to win.

A tax collector told of how she refused to pay, styling herself Duchess of Cornwall on the returns and stating she had legal claims on the crown. Surely, all tax collectors prefer people who pay up without hassle.

John Tyacke spoke of how Mary had appointed him to manage her estates in 1831, and that she turned against him when Chancery made him the receiver. She had had men digging up the gardens at Rosteague, he said,

…to find out how her enemies got into the house…she was not right in her mind…

She had apparently accused him of treason, and tried to have him arrested. Tyacke owed her no favours.

A butler whom Mary had recently dismissed claimed she had given him pistols with which to shoot the workmen employed on the Marquis of Westminster’s house. She wouldn’t handle sovereigns with the Queen’s head on them, he said,

…as she had a title to the throne…no sane person would speak in the excited way she did…

Others gave similar stories, of imaginary serpents, listening devices, and turning her back on the monarch.

Of course, the witnesses may have thought they were acting in Mary’s best interests – or they may have told Barlow and the jury what they believed the officials wanted to hear.

Either way, it played into Winchcombe Hartley’s hands. One witness had

…no doubt as to her insanity…

There was one false note amongst all these testimonies. And that came from Mary herself.

Four days into the inquisition, the jury decided they ought to hear from the unfortunate woman herself. With Commissioner Barlow, they visited Mary at her home in Grosvenor Square.

Homes of the well-heeled: Grosvenor Square, Mayfair, c1800, by Thomas Malton⁵³

If they were expecting to encounter a semi-demented, drooling paranoiac, they were wrong. The Mary Hartley they met was lucid and obstinate. Like other potential lunatics interviewed by Barlow, she clearly had little time for the man⁵⁴.

Barlow asked her if she believed she had any claim to the crown. The reply was curt:

Certainly not. What claim could I, as simple Mrs Hartley, have to the crown?

Barlow then asked her about the digging at Rosteague to discover the conspirators’ entrance:

…not for that reason. There was an old tradition…that there was a subterraneous communication between Rosteague and the sea, and I was anxious to ascertain the fact.

(There certainly was a tunnel leading from Rosteague to the sea, though it has long since vanished⁵⁵.)

What about the noises in her various properties?

…they might have been occasioned by rats, or any other cause.

Clearly Barlow was irritating Mary. When he asked her why she had driven her carriage right past the Queen’s own, she snapped back

I shan’t tell you that. It is not your business. You let me off the insanity, and then I am ready to enter upon the case of treason…I am anxious to have my affairs out of Chancery…

What did she have against John Tyacke?

…he made up his accounts in the Court of Chancery £250 more than he really ought…

And the box from which Mary claimed to communicate with the Foreign Ministry?

You can’t call that insanity. It was only a joke…

One doubts Barlow saw the funny side. Next she was asked about the pistols and her murderous designs on the Marquis’ workmen. Mary was ready:

…they [the workmen] used to jump over the wall of the back-yard…the house was quite invaded by them. I ordered the servant to fire at them to frighten them, but not to hurt anybody.

You have to admire her nerve. Mary was facing a government agent and an 18-strong jury. But it was too little, too late.

On Friday, December 8 1843, the commission and jurors assembled to give their verdict, with Mary and her son in attendance. It was noted she spoke with a certain “incoherency”, and that

…her whole deportment was strange.

She was about to discover whether she was insane, with all that that entailed. Mary could perhaps be forgiven for being on edge.

Though her defence argued that a delusion did not imply general lunacy, this time Barlow was prepared. It’s not known from which authoritative tome he quoted, but it was probably A Treatise On the Law Concerning Lunatics, Idiots and Persons of Unsound Mind (1833). After all, he would use it in at least one other case. The crucial lines are:

A sound mind is one wholly free from delusion…An unsound mind is marked by delusion, mingles ideas of imagination with those of reality…the true test of the absence or presence of insanity, may be comprised in a single term, viz, delusion.

Qtd in Sarah Wise, Inconvenient People: Lunacy, Liberty and the Mad-Doctors in Victorian England, Vintage Books, 2012, p171-3. Barlow quoted these words to prove another patient’s insanity.

Though it’s not mentioned, Mary’s alleged insistence that Queen Victoria was not the true monarch would have counted against her. By the time of Mary’s certification, there had already been three attempts on Victoria’s life in her short reign⁵⁶.

Mary was declared mentally unsound, was freed of all worldly concerns, and all that was hers put under the protection of the Court of Chancery.

*Poor Mad Margery*, by John Hill, c1830s⁵⁷

The very next day, Mary’s son William was judged insane, incoherent, irrational and possibly suicidal by the same commission; he was twenty⁵⁸. Put yourself in his situation. His mother had just been categorised as a lunatic by the machinations of her stepson, Winchcombe Hartley. Now the same man, William’s half-brother, was about to do the same to him.

He had never known his father. Eyre Hartley left for Europe when he and Mary separated and spent the rest of his life abroad. Living alone with an eccentric and over-protective mother who denied him the company of other children, William can’t have been the most worldly or well-adjusted of men⁵⁹.

Now, his entire world had been turned upside-down. The events of the previous twenty-four hours had very possibly traumatised him. A stronger character might have steeled themselves to come out fighting, but William was simply not made that way. His intellect, it was written, had “failed”⁶⁰.

A music-lover who was a familiar face at concerts, William became an object of curiosity in Camborne. It seems strange to read of him being driven about in an open carriage, all 300lbs of him in a white silk top-hat, through a modern 1890s town that was fully industrialised and no longer a small ‘Churchtown’. He must have been seen as a quaint, if odd, throwback to the Georgian era⁶¹.

Back to 1843. Mary and William moved back to Rosewarne. The Hartleys – literally – moved in too.

Mother and son were essentially prisoners of the Hartleys at Rosewarne. By the author

In 1851 Rosewarne’s head and Chancery Committee appointee was William Price Lewis (1812-1853). His first wife had been Louisa Arabella Hartley (1803-1847), a daughter of Eyre Hartley and therefore Mary’s stepdaughter. Arabella’s brother was of course Winchcombe Hartley.

Their three children were still living at Rosewarne in 1861, along with William Lewis’s second wife, Cecilia Bassett Rogers (d1868). Cecilia was now one-half of the Chancery Committee with her brother Francis, a solicitor⁶².

All their wants and needs were provided for by the Court of Chancery, who funded them through the returns from Mary’s estate. It can’t have been a frugal existence.

How much cash, exactly, are we talking about here? In 1882 the Chancery appointee at Rosewarne was Frederick Townley Parker. He had links to the Hartleys through his wife, and received £2000/annum for the upkeep of Rosewarne. That’s around £202K today⁶³.

It was also rumoured that a Hartley family member was receiving £600/annum from the estate, in direct contravention of Mary’s will of 1825. Today, that person would be earning £60K a year for nothing⁶⁴.

Rosewarne’s opulence is undeniable. By the author

Townley Parker evidently lived the high hog. The 1891 census shows that Rosewarne boasted a butler, a groom, two footmen and five servants. This army of staff had to tend the needs of two men, William and Townley Parker himself. Why not? Townley Parker certainly wasn’t paying.

Long before this, though, the Hartleys were taking an even firmer grip on the estates of Rosewarne and Rosteague. In 1871, three years after Mary’s horrific death, Charlotte Van Grutten (1831-1874) was named heiress-at-law and would succeed William. She was a daughter of Winchcombe Hartley, who had married a French count⁶⁵.

By 1877, the Lunacy Commission reported to the Lord Chancellor that Charlotte’s son, Lucien Van Grutten (1862-1932), was now heir-at-law. He was already taking £300/annum (£24K in 2024) from the estates to pay his way through school⁶⁶.

You might be lulled into thinking, then, that Lucien’s succession would be a peaceful one, but far from it. As early as 1882, members of the Harris dynasty were preparing for an inheritance battle royale⁶⁷.

In other words, quite a few people, many of them his own kin, were waiting for William to die. He wouldn’t oblige them until 1894. He also died intestate, though anything he’d put his name to after 1843 would have been automatically invalidated.

The vultures closed in.

The inheritance suit was only definitively concluded in 1907, when Lucien Van Grutten was belatedly confirmed as the one true heir of estates valued in 1901 at a staggering £112,937. That’s £11.5 million now⁶⁹. The suit was variously described in the Press as being

…one of such considerable importance in point of the law…that it has practically become a test case…

Cornish Post and Mining News, July 27 1899, p5

…or, alternatively, a

Cornishman, Febraury 3 1898, p8

At least one litigant went bankrupt as a result. There’s claims and counter-claims, appeals and still more appeals. There’s deeds and probates, wills and codicils. There’s fee simples, fee entails and disentailing deeds. There’s hired Irish thugs. There’s Harris descendants from Australia and America, armed to the teeth with more genealogical data than Ancestry could ever hope to obtain.

There’s battalions of lawyers who could convince a jury that black was white, or vice versa if it suited them. There’s repartee, jargon, statutes and precedents⁷⁰.

Yes, it was a sickening waste of money. But perhaps most sickening of all is how not one of Mary and William’s Harris relatives came to their aid back in 1843. All that concerned them was the wealth – just like the Hartleys. The Harris clan only acted, rapaciously, after William and Mary were interred in the family vault at Camborne Church⁷¹.

Nobody questioned the twin-verdicts of 1843. The only issue surrounding Mary’s state of mind was when she was truly insane.

For example, during the first inheritance hearing of 1895, the Van Grutten side submitted a deed made by Mary in 1835 – a disentailing deed. This, it was argued, reversed the wishes of her will of 1825, thus enabling the Hartley/Van Grutten line to succeed. (One doubts this was Mary’s actual intention.)

The claim was quashed by the Harris party. Mary was already insane by October 31, 1834. Anything she put her name to after this date was obviously open to objection⁷².

In contrast, back in 1871, a court attempted to prove a codicil to her will that Mary made in January 1834 – when she was of sound mind. The judge denied the codicil’s standing on the grounds that

…the jury [in 1843] did not negative the proposition that she had been lunatic before ’34, only saying that she had been at the time…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, Janaury 28 1871, p8

In one instance, Mary was conclusively insane on October 31, 1834. In another, her insanity could be conveniently backdated. Black is white, and white is black.

A far cry from William’s open carriage: the Holman family’s Rolls Royce at Rosewarne, c1915. Kresen Kernow, ref. corn05391

At the conclusion of the inheritance suit in 1907, Camborne’s own ‘Bleak House’ was in a state of disrepair⁷³. Before 1914, James M. Holman, MD of Holman Bros and one-time rugby pioneer, had purchased Rosewarne. By 1950, it was the firm’s administration block⁷⁴.

Residents on the lawn at Gladys Holman House. From Nostalgic Camborne, Facebook

In the mid-1960s, Rosewarne was bequeathed to the Spastics Society by the Holman family, and renamed Gladys Holman House. From 2013, when the Price family purchased Rosewarne (renaming it Roswarne), the building has been restored to its former Georgian glory. To visit now is to gain a sense of the rural retreat old William Harris had once surely envisaged⁷⁵.

All the while, the sad story of Mary Hartley was told and retold, and the legends grew. Her ghost was said to be seen at Gladys Holman House, a pitiful figure dressed in grey. But that’s not all.

In 1871, it was remarked of the (then-dead) Mary that she hadn’t attended church since 1830⁷⁶. Over the years, this tale has grown. In 2024 I was told that Mary had had secret tunnels dug from Rosewarne’s cellar, one stretching all the way to Camborne Church. This enabled her to go to church unseen, inadvertently fuelling the 1830s rumour of her irreligious ways.

The steps to Rosewarne’s cellar. By the author

A former employee of Gladys Holman House once claimed to have walked the tunnel themselves, right up to Camborne Church.

However a one-time caretaker has rubbished the story, as has the highly-respected former archivist at Kresen Kernow, David Thomas. A member of Camborne Church for over sixty years (and the present warden), he has never come across any evidence of a tunnel.

Clearly, Mary’s investigation into the whereabouts of the genuine tunnel at Rosteague was too good a story not to be claimed by Rosewarne, and was altered in the transition⁷⁷.

Mary Hartley believed in the existence of a tunnel at Rosteague – and she was right. She also believed there was a plot afoot to claim her inherited wealth.

She was ultimately right there too, and therein lies the tragedy of her story.

Listen to me discuss Mary Hartley’s story on The Piskie Trap Podcast with Keith Wallis here.

With special thanks to Alan Rowling, who arranged a private tour of Roswarne; Becky Vage, Roswarne guide; Jay Milton, owner, Rosteague; David Thomas, Churchwarden; Pat Herbert, Gladys Holman House.

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4, contains a detailed account of the Hartley Lunacy Trial. The hearing and verdict meted out to her son, William, is noted in the St James’s Chronicle, December 12 1843, p2.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 21 1871, p6.
The jury at the inquest recorded a verdict of accidental death: Royal Cornwall Gazette, October 29 1868, p6. The ‘madwoman in the attic’ refers to a famous character in Charlotte Bronte’s 1847 novel Jane Eyre. The wife of the text’s protagonist, Mr Rochester, is declared insane and kept hidden from view in the mansion’s attic. In 1979 Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar published The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination, a landmark feminist text.
Image from: https://www.rosteague.com/about. Hartley’s seasonal use of Rosteague is noted in the Royal Cornwall Gazette, October 29 1868, p6.
A stricken Norfolk woman burned to death in 1897; a London madwoman cut her own throat in 1830. Lynn News and County Press, January 9 1897, p3; London Evening Standard, January 14 1830, p3.
See Thomas Harris’s burial record here: https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=burials&id=4670368. Professor Brown’s in-house guide to Roswarne notes that Harris’s original Cornish seat had been the manor of Upton, near Hayle, but the ever encroaching sand dunes had forced him to look elsewhere.
The deal between Hawkins and Harris is held at Kresen Kernow, ref. TEM/143/6. This particular Christopher Hawkins is not to be confused with the later (and more well-known) Sir Christopher Hawkins (1758-1829) of Trewithen, who also features in this story. See William and Henry’s burial entries here: https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=burials&id=4645258, https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=burials&id=4673812. For more on Trewithen, Trewinnard, and the interlocking of the Hawkins family, see: https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1143620?section=official-list-entry, and https://www.trewithengardens.co.uk/our-story/history-of-the-estate
Image from: L. J. Bullen, Mining in Cornwall, Volume Eight: Camborne to Redruth, History Press, 2013, p10.
Kresen Kernow, refs. TEM/81/1, AD2258/2/35.
Kresen Kernow, ref. X473/102.
Kresen Kernow, ref. EN/1516.
Kresen Kernow, ref. TLP/694.
Kresen Kernow, ref. BRA/1489/64.
Kresen Kernow, ref. TEM/181/3.
Kresen Kernow, RH/1/438.
As mentioned in the Salisbury and Winchester Journal, February 15 1773, p1.
Kresen Kernow, refs. AD/864/68, BRA2355/15-16, X327, RH/1/1859.
Sherborne Mercury, September 5 1768, p4; Kresen Kernow, ref. BRA/1489/60.
See: Rosewarne (Cornish Houses and Gardens), by Tamsin Sandfield, Kresen Kernow, ref. 728.8094238. John de Rosewarne rebelled against Henry VII in 1497. See: https://agantavas.com/one-leader-of-the-uprising-john-rosewarne-of-rosewarne-near-camborne/.
Professor Brown’s in-house guide at Roswarne gives a detailed survey of the property’s architectural heritage.
Image from: https://www.rosteague.com/gallery
West Briton, October 18 1880, p1. I’m not going to vouch for the accuracy of those population figures, but you get the general idea. For more on the Basset family, see: Tehidy and the Bassets: The Rise and Fall of a Great Cornish Family, by Michael Tangye, Truran, 2002.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4. Mary’s baptism entry is here: https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=baptisms&id=6524940
From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Carpenter_Rowe
Image from: https://www.forumauctions.co.uk/130600/Egan-Pierce-The-Life-of-an-Actor-first-edition-hand-coloured-aquatints-original-boards-1825?view=lot_detail&auction_no=1142
Bristol Mirror, October 9 1819, p3.
Professor Brown’s in-house guide at Roswarne notes this.
The 1st Earl of Scarborough was one of the men who had conspired to bring William of Orange to England during the Glorious Revolution of 1688. See: https://www.thepeerage.com/p46500.htm#i464997, https://www.thepeerage.com/p46500.htm#i464996, https://www.thepeerage.com/p2600.htm#i25991, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Lumley-Saunderson,_4th_Earl_of_Scarbrough, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Lumley,_1st_Earl_of_Scarbrough
Kresen Kernow, ref. BRA2355/169-170.
Without the concerned parties acquiring a private Act of Parliament, divorce was to all intents and purposes impossible in 1820s England. Many well-to-do yet unhappy couples took the same route as Mary and Eyre, but a deed of separation in no way nullified a marriage. Divorce only became enshrined in English law in 1857. See: Laurence Stone, Road to Divorce: England, 1530-1987, Oxford University Press, 1990, p141-3, 368-82. For more on Davies Gilbert, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Davies_Gilbert
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4.
Image from: https://londonopia.co.uk/the-wife-auctions-of-spitalfields/. For more on wife sales, see: E. P. Thompson, Customs in Common, Penguin, 1991, p404-66, and my post on a wife sale that took place in Redruth in 1819: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/12/10/two-shillings-and-sixpence-a-cornish-wife-sale/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4; Cornishman, August 31 1882, p7.
For more on Merthen Manor, see: https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/library/browse/issue.xhtml?recordId=1146108&recordType=GreyLitSeries. Tyacke was plagued by people stealing his oysters. See: Kresen Kernow, ref. QS/1/13/170.
Professor Brown’s in-house guide at Roswarne makes this clear.
For more on Hawkins, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Christopher_Hawkins,_1st_Baronet. He features in my post on parliamentary corruption here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/01/06/the-grampound-potwallopers-corruption-in-georgian-cornwall/
Image from: https://www.cornwallheritage.com/ertach-kernow-blogs/ertach-kernow-sir-christopher-hawkins-boroughmonger/
Penzance Gazette, October 23 1844, p1.
Penzance Gazette, July 24 1844, p3.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4. Without the concerned parties acquiring a private Act of Parliament, divorce was to all intents and purposes impossible in 1820s England. See: Laurence Stone, Road to Divorce: England, 1530-1987, Oxford University Press, 1990, p141-3, 368-82.
Penzance Gazette, December 13 1843, p3.
Penzance Gazette, December 13 1843, p3.
Image from: https://www.amymilnesmith.com/post/paths-to-the-asylum. For more on the Lunacy Commission, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commissioners_in_Lunacy, and I highly recommend Sarah Wise’s Inconvenient People: Lunacy, Liberty and the Mad-Doctors in Victorian England, Vintage Books, 2012.
Wise, Inconvenient People, xxi.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4, and: https://www.thepeerage.com/p46500.htm#i464996. Winchcombe Hartley died a brigadier in the Punjab: Sun (London), August 26 1858, p8.
Image from: https://wellcomecollection.org/concepts/uaem25fs#
Wise, Inconvenient People, chapters 1-3.
Wise, Inconvenient People, chapter 2. An appendix of this book (p394-400) contains a list of cases they investigated – Mary’s name isn’t amongst them. You can read of Mary’s case in the London Weekly Chronicle, December 10 1843, p3.
Wise, Inconvenient People, xiii.
Wise, Inconvenient People, p15.
Wise, Inconvenient People, p15-16. All the details and quotations of Mary’s and her son’s hearing are, unless otherwise stated, from the Royal Cornwall Gazette, December 15 1843, p4. For more on Barlow, see: http://studymore.org.uk/6bioh.htm#H36
Image from: https://artmuseum.princeton.edu/collections/objects/37618
Image from: https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/art-artists/work-of-art/grosvenor-square
Wise, Inconvenient People, p160-1.
Like priest-holes in Warwickshire stately homes, no Cornish mansion is complete without the rumour of a secret tunnel somewhere in its environs. The knee-jerk reaction to their existence is to assume a connection with smuggling in the area. Rosteague, though, must have genuinely had a tunnel at one time. Indeed, another tunnel was discovered at Higher Tregassa Farm near Portscatho in 1908 – this property was part of the Rosteague estate. In 1945, Rosteague’s tunnel was certainly still in existence, though the current owner, Jay Milton, assures me it’s vanished now. She’s conducted a very thorough search of the grounds, but it seems the previous residents of Rosteague, the McKennas, had it blocked up on grounds of safety. See: Cornish Echo, February 14 1908, p8; West Briton, April 23 1945, p2.
And seven in total: https://www.historyextra.com/period/victorian/queen-victoria-assassination-attempts/
Image from: https://warwick.ac.uk/fac/arts/history/chm/outreach/trade_in_lunacy/research/womenandmadness/
St James’s Chronicle, December 12 1843, p2. See William’s baptismal record here: https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=baptisms&id=6249740
Cornishman, July 5 1894, p6; January 30 1896, p7.
Cornishman, July 5 1894, p6.
Cornishman, July 5 1894, p6.
Information from 1851 and 1861 census, Ancestry Public Member Trees, and: https://www.thepeerage.com/p46500.htm#i464997, https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=marriages&id=1929417, https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=baptisms&id=6695711, https://www.cornwall-opc-database.org/search-database/more-info/?t=burials&id=4836396
Cornishman, August 31 1882, p7; July 5 1894, p6.
Cornishman, August 31 1882, p7.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 21 1871, p6; Ancestry Public Member Trees.
Cornishman, June 20 1895, p6; August 25 1932, p2.
Cornishman, August 31 1882, p7.
Image from: https://www.charlesdickenspage.com/illustrations-web/Bleak-House/Bleak-House-title-page.jpg
Cornishman, October 10 1907, p3. The valuation of the estates is from Kresen Kernow, ref. FS/3/1548.
If you really want follow this up, see: Cornishman, June 20 1895, p6; July 8 1895, p5; August 15 1895, p4; January 30 1896, p7; April 9 1896, p2; Cornish Post and Mining News, July 27 1899, p5; Royal Cornwall Gazette, April 12 1900, p7; West Briton, November 7 1900, p3.
The vault no longer exists; it was demolished in the 1960s to enable the building of the church hall. The Harris coffins are interred under its foundations. With thanks to David Thomas, Churchwarden.
Cornishman, June 20 1895, p6.
Cornish Telegraph, April 18 1907, p7.
From Professor Brown’s in-house guide to Rosewarne, and Cornishman, March 9 1950, p7. James M Holman was a founder-member of Camborne RFC: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/08/26/cambornes-feast-day-rugby/
From Professor Brown’s in-house guide to Rosewarne, and Cornish Guardian, August 12 1965, p4; West Briton, October 20 1966, p6.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 28 1871, p8.
For Rosteague’s tunnel, see note 55. Over the years, the old mine workings under Rosewarne have periodically collapsed, giving weight to the stories of old tunnels. Discoveries of waste water pipes in the 1950s and 60s had a similar effect. See: https://www.facebook.com/groups/604486726292230/search/?q=gerry%20treloar

The Magnificent Seven Meet The Invincibles

Reading time: 30 minutes

(A version of this post was presented as a speech at the 100th Anniversary Celebrations of the Cornwall ~ All Blacks match at Camborne RFC on September 20, 2024)

Camborne Town Band, 1925. Imagine having them escort you through the streets of the town to play a game of rugby. Image from the Cornish National Music Archive

It’s just after lunchtime on Wednesday, September 17, 1924. Camborne is a ferment of expectation. Over the past few years, the town hasn’t had much to look forward to, but today is different.

Today, any minute, special guests are arriving.

Tomorrow, Thursday the 18th, a special game will be played.

Camborne will be hosting the Cornish rugby team – and their opponents.

Camborne’s people know how to welcome visitors. Even when their arch-rivals, Redruth, come to play at the Recreation Ground for the annual Feast Monday fixture, houses and fences would be whitewashed anew. Camborne Town Band would march ahead of the XVs from the town centre to the pitch, and folks would line the streets to cheer on (or hurl insults at) the iron-jawed, muscled players¹.

Today, even the Town Hall is decked out in flags and ferns. Today, even the grandees of the Cornwall RFU are here, in their very best Sunday best. They’re currently up at Camborne Railway Station, pacing the platform with equally starch-shirted members of various town councils, straightening their ties and checking their pocket-watches².

Everything, and everyone, had to be ready.

For the first time in several years, Camborne was the centre of attention – for all the right reasons. Great Western Railways were attempting to cash in on the town’s new status as a visitor hotspot by offering cheap excursion trips³. Camborne’s hoteliers and businessmen were rubbing their hands with glee.

Camborne wasn’t normally high on GWR’s list of desirable locations…

It seemed every entrepreneur and raconteur wanted to get in on the act. Hell, there was probably even some wild rumour going about the place regarding an aeroplane display tomorrow?! But no, surely that was crazy talk.

Yes, Camborne needed something positive to get behind. For in Camborne in 1924, it was hard times. Holmans may have been employing over 500 men, Roskear Mine may have looked promising, but Camborne was no longer the epicentre of a Cornish mining industry that had once dominated world trade⁴.

All over the town were abandoned relics of a once-proud industry. This is part of Dolcoath Mine⁵

Prayers had been offered in the churches for God to intervene and save Camborne’s mines, but God wasn’t listening⁶. Nor was the Government. A loan of £200,000 (that’s £7.5 million today) was requested to keep Wheals Dolcoath and Grenville open. The miners themselves sent petitions, but to no avail⁷.

The price of tin was too low, the price of coal too high, developmental work was impossible, and machinery was out of date. Dolcoath hadn’t paid dividends since 1913⁸.

As the miners were laid off by the hundred, their fatalism was apparent:

I have tramped this road daily for more than thirty years, and now I am doing it for the last time…God knows whether I shall have dinner next Sunday…

Cornishman, June 30 1920, p5

By 1921, there were 3,000 unemployed miners in Cornwall. By 1924, Camborne had the highest Cornish unemployment rate. Burial rates for nearly a thousand people had been excused. Since 1922, the Camborne Relief Fund had distributed £75K, or £2.8 million in 2024⁹.

In desperation, the ex-miners formed charity choirs, and must have cut a pathetic sight on the streets, or at half-time during rugby matches¹⁰.

Others simply left. In 1920 a hundred Dolcoath men sailed for Ontario, with another hundred to follow¹¹. Others, such as Camborne RFC’s Ernie ‘Tatsy’ Wills, backed their sporting abilities and joined the Northern Union. In 1922 he signed to Rochdale Hornets for £350 – that’s £16K now. Not bad for a man who, in 1921, was just another unemployed miner. He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last¹².

Town authorities actively promoted emigration¹³

By January 1924 Camborne’s unemployment figures revealed an astounding fact:

…it seems that all the miners have gone.

Cornish Post and Mining News, January 19 1924, p5

Some had gone to seek a better life in New Zealand¹⁴, and it is here that we begin to understand why Camborne’s townspeople had so extravagantly pushed the boat of welcome out.

Camborne was hosting a County rugby match, yes, but this was bigger.

For, on Thursday 18th, 1924, Cornwall’s opponents would be New Zealand – The All Blacks.

The 1924-5 All Blacks. Back, l to r: L Paewai, J H Parker, M J Brownlie, C Brownlie, A White, Q Donald, G Nepia. Third row, l to r: W R Irvine, I H Harvey, A H West, L F Cupples, R F Stewart, R R Masters, A C Robilliard, J Steel. Second row, l to r: A H Hart, B V McCleary, H G Munro, C Badeley, S S Dean (Manager), J Richardson (Vice-Capt), G G Porter (Capt), J Mill, M F Nicholls. Front, l to r: N P McGregor, W C Dalley, A E Cooke, F W Lucas, K S Svenson, H W Brown¹⁵

And the people of Camborne wanted to say thank you. When the train finally pulled in that afternoon (proving once and for all that the train does indeed stop at Camborne on a Wednesday), the tourists were addressed by the Chair of Camborne’s Unemployment Committee:

…our fathers and grandfathers emigrated to the dominions, and wherever there is mining you will find Cornishmen…During the time of the mining depression New Zealand assisted us and many of our young men went to your country to work…

Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p4

From the Copper crash of the 1870s (which has traditionally marked the beginning of the end for Cornish mining), over 5000 Cornish emigrants travelled to New Zealand. This number swelled through the early 1900s, creating a ‘dependency culture’ in Cornwall: the wages sent home from countries such as New Zealand put bread on the table in the former mining districts¹⁶.

Things may have been bordering on the desperate in Camborne, but the money earned and the support given from New Zealand had truly kept the wolves from the door.

And Camborne wanted to show its gratitude. New Zealand, represented that day in 1924 by its rugby team, was a symbol of hope, of better times.

The people of Camborne had another reason to celebrate too, and be at the game en masse.

Seven of the Cornwall XV to line up against the All Blacks were Camborne players. An eighth, scrum-half Albert Gibson, was a Hayle player but had guested on occasion for Camborne the previous season¹⁷.

Albert Gibson, shortly before he stepped onto the pitch to play. Image courtesy Leslie Fiedler

And when I say they were Camborne players, they were Camborne men too. They worked at Holmans, or Climax, or were miners – if they could find a mine that wasn’t a scat bal, as they used to say. They were ordinary men, working men, who had given up a day’s pay (that they could scarcely afford to sacrifice), to represent Cornwall and face down the mightiest rugby team on the planet.

The Climax building, Pool. Sadly no longer in existence

If we’re being uncharitable, we could say that, in picking seven Camborne men for a game at Camborne the Cornwall RFU were ensuring plenty of local bums on seats. However, the CRFU’s selection committee were from Redruth, Hayle and Falmouth, and would have doubtless pressed the merits of their own players¹⁸.

For Camborne was easily the strongest club in Cornwall. Though earlier that year they had lost the services of their skipper, County centre Leonard Hammer, to Birmingham¹⁹, the 1923-4 season ended with 32 wins from 49 matches, and 3 draws. 605 points had been amassed, and 305 conceded²⁰.

Leonard Hammer in 1923. Courtesy Kelly Hamblin

That season, they were undefeated against Redruth. In fact, they beat Redruth a record five times²¹. Their play overall was noted as “splendid”, but Town were also the meanest, most “brutal” XV on the block²².

In one victory against Redruth, Reds’ skipper Ray Jennings was booted unconscious after taking a penalty. In that same match, three other Redruth players were knocked out and spectators had begun to ask why the perpetrators weren’t arrested²³.

Even by the standards of the day, Camborne were hard.

Camborne, 1924-5. Back, l to r: H N R Hunt, Dick Holman, Bill Biddick, T Harvey, C Carter, Bob Warren, Herbert Wakeham, Foster Selwood, Walter Mayne. Sitting, l to r: Fred Barnard, Reg Parnell, George Thomas (Capt), Phil Collins, George Rogers. Kneeling, l to r: Jim Hodge (trainer), B Tremelling, Fred Rogers, Referee. Only Carter and Tremelling never represented Cornwall²⁴. Jim Hodge’s preferred method of treatment, according to John Collins, was to send the injured party to Penponds water spout for a dash of cold water. Courtesy Leslie Fiedler

So, who were The Magnificent Seven?

Phil Collins in 1923. Courtesy Kelly Hamblin

Phil Collins (1905-1964) was the kind of centre you did not want to be tackled by. A 5ft 9, 12 stone rock-drill engineer at Climax, the stocky lad was picked for Cornwall at the tender age of 17, and was only 19 when he faced New Zealand – or rather, they faced him. He earned over forty caps for his County, and was their skipper in three separate seasons (1925-6, 1928-9, 1930-1).

Such a strong, fast tyro was always going to attract the attention of bigger clubs, and so it proved. Phil guested for the powerful Plymouth Albion XV in 1923; family tradition has it they ‘looked after’ him financially.

In 1922 the Northern Union club Leeds had come knocking. Phil was offered £600 down to sign (that’s £28K today), £4 (£190) per match, and a job at a local engineering firm. For one reason and another, he turned them down. Likewise Oldham, who approached him twice.

On his retirement in 1934 he was described as

…one of Camborne’s great footballers.

Cornishman, November 29 1934, p9

Of course, his other claim to fame is as the father of the only Camborne player (to date) who has represented England, John Collins. One of John’s earliest memories of his dad is watching him play for Camborne at Plymouth Albion. So aggressive was Phil, and so devastating his tackles, that he endured no end of stick from the home crowd. Apparently, this wasn’t uncommon. Such was his speed that a 3-versus-2 overlap could be negated by him making two tackles himself.

Cornwall were going to need all of him in 1924²⁵.

Fred Barnard in 1925. Courtesy Leslie Fiedler

Collins’ centre partner was to be Fred Barnard (1895-1976). Of the seven Camborne men who played the All Blacks, Fred’s story best illustrates how tough life in Camborne could be at the time.

When Fred was six, his father (aged 35) and eldest brother (12) both died from lung disease. As soon as they were able, Fred and his five siblings had to find work, with their widowed mother scratching a living from charring. In 1921, he was out of work – in Camborne surface labourers for the mines were a dying breed. Poverty and destitution were a constant threat.

Fred must have been a tough, cussed character. In 1923 he quit Camborne RFC when he wasn’t selected for the inaugural Crawshay’s fixture, and then did the unthinkable in joining Redruth. (In those days, such an act was liable to get your windows smashed and you barred from all of Camborne’s pubs.) He saw the light, however, and returned to the fold for the start of the 1924-5 season.

He didn’t know it yet, but this game was to be the last of his three caps for Cornwall – but what a fixture to go out on²⁶.

Rafie Hamblin, 1923. Courtesy Kelly Hamblin

Half-back Rafie Hamblin (1904-1990) was a genuine Camborne character. For many years he ran the family butcher shop on Trelowarren Street, and was a regular at the old clubhouse on East Terrace, dispensing sage advice to youngsters. His son, Paul, who also came to be known as ‘Rafie’, proved an equally fine servant to the club.

The impressive window display of Rafie’s shop in 1951. Courtesy Kelly Hamblin

As a player, Rafie must have been sharp, quick and alert. Not the biggest man on the pitch, he was elected skipper for the 1927-8 season, at a time when the Camborne side of the Roaring Twenties were at the peak of their powers. This was a period when Town could best the ‘Welsh Barbarians’, Crawshays, and do a number on Bath.

Rafie had other interests besides rugby, including exhibiting his prize cockerels and racing a 500cc BSA on grass tracks. He once assisted in saving a man from drowning at Kynance Cove. He was also renowned for the dark red hue of the tomatoes he grew and sold; unbeknownst to his customers, the colour was achieved by liberal applications of pigs’ blood to the plants’ soil.

Nevertheless, one of Rafie’s proudest moments was the day he played the All Blacks, and he would often recall it as the biggest of gates, and the friendliest of matches²⁷.

Bill Biddick in 1923. Courtesy Kelly Hamblin

Though hailing from Wadebridge, forward Bill Biddick (1896-1984) is a Camborne RFC legend. Another Holmans/Climax man, while apprenticed during WW1 he joined the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry (1/5th Battalion), and probably saw action on the Western Front.

He played his first rugby for Beacon, and was associated with the village’s cricket team for many years. However, Town soon secured his services – as did Cornwall. He was a master of the line-out, and by all accounts possessed a massive punt.

Beacon CC, 1927. Winners of the Cornwall Junior (Cooke) Cup. Bill Biddick sits centre. Courtesy Darren Proctor, Beacon CC

Inevitably, Biddick’s prowess and physical presence on the pitch rapidly attracted the interest of the Northern Union clubs, and Rochdale Hornets offered him £100 (nearly £5K today) to join them in 1922. With a steady job at Holmans, he could afford to turn them down.

Equally inevitably, Biddick became Camborne’s skipper, and led them during their most successful season, 1926-7: played 38, won 32, drew 2; points for, 651; against, only 151. As we saw earlier, during the 1924-5 season they scored over 600 points yet conceded over 300: this time round, Town were a much tighter unit.

As Bill himself remarked,

Camborne were on top in those days, and no matter where we played they were all after our blood because we were the tops.

Camborne RFC Centenary Programme, 1878-1978

Those who knew him would know this was no idle boast. All the people I spoke to, including his son Derek who, along with brother Max, also played for Camborne, recall him as a modest, distinguished gentleman, who would make a point of not bragging about his achievements.

Indeed, the only time he would truly open his mouth was to sing, as he regularly did in a choir at the Carnhell Green pub on a Sunday evening.

Humble or not, Bill could have bragged plenty. When Cornwall beat Middlesex in the County Championship semi-final of 1928 (they lost to Yorkshire in the final), Biddick’s performance was singled out for being truly monstrous. When you consider that his opposite number that day was the England Captain (and no shrinking violet himself) Wavell Wakefield, you begin to understand how good Bill Biddick was, and how unlucky to never gain international recognition.

Remembered as

…a giant in every respect…

West Briton, January 5 1984, p6

…in 1924 he could show the All Blacks what he was made of²⁸.

Walter Mayne in 1925. Courtesy Leslie Fiedler

Wing-forward Walter Mayne (1903-1981) was a rugby pioneer. A fitness fanatic who could sprint up Camborne Hill, in 1921 he was an 18 year-old miner and out of work. Like Fred Barnard’s, Walter’s dad had died of lung disease, leaving him the family’s sole breadwinner.

When he eventually found work, it didn’t suit Walter – perhaps understandably. His job underground was to wade through deep water and clear the mine’s drainage channels, so when opportunity knocked, he took it.

Walter emigrated to Chicago in 1926, taking a job at Crane Co., a valve engineering firm. During WW2 his department was unknowingly part of the Manhattan Project, and Walter went on to work at several nuclear power plants and submarines, such as USS Nautilus.

Such were Walter’s services to the Atom in the States that he once met President Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Walter Mayne on Chicago’s South Side. Courtesy Leslie Fiedler

More importantly for us, Walter brought rugby union to Chicago, forming the Chicago Southerns club in the 1920s.

Along with Penryn’s George Jago (who played with Walter against the 1924 All Blacks), Walter deserves recognition as a forgotten trailblazer of rugby union in America. Once a game confined to colleges, nearly a hundred years later the USA’s Major League boasts 13 professional clubs.

Walter Mayne went a long way, but he never forgot where he came from. In 1972 he visited Camborne (and his elderly mother in Beacon), receiving a hero’s welcome from old friends and team-mates.

Naturally, he watched his old team, and said of them that

…they are just as good as ever we were. They have the speed and the courage and the will to play good football…I say to Camborne folk, ‘Get down there and give the Camborne lads some support. They deserve it’.

Qtd in: Henry Cecil Blackwell, From a Dark Stream: The Story of Cornwall’s Amazing People and Their Impact on the World, Truran, 1986, p220

Back in 1924, they were coming through the gates in their thousands²⁹.

Herbert Wakeham in 1925. Courtesy Leslie Fiedler

In the amateur game, working men had to accept that work came before play, and that where you worked, or where you came from, might hinder the progression of your play.

Witness the story of Herbert Wakeham (1897-1963), who has a reputation of being one of Camborne’s toughest ever forwards, and also the unluckiest. As a drill salesman for Climax, his frequent and far-from brief journeys abroad counted against a fully realised rugby career.

A WW1 Warrant Officer in the DCLI (he was stationed at St Antony), Herbert played all three England trial matches during the 1920-1 season, yet missed out on selection.

Herbert (wearing dark strip in the centre, looking up at the ball) during one of his England trials. Courtesy Mark Warren

In the final match, he was the only player representing a Cornish club, trying to prove his worth against servicemen, University dons and gentlemen of the Home Counties. One suspects his face didn’t fit.

At this time he was also offered a Northern Union contract, but in late 1921 Climax sent him to South Africa; he only returned in 1924. Luckily for Herbert, he was able to keep his rugby hand in by playing for Transvaal’s Pirates RFC.

Rushed into the Cornwall XV for the All Blacks fixture, he was also selected for another international trial. Again, full honours eluded him.

Wakeham’s caps. From left, a trial cap, a Camborne RFC 1919-20 season cap (when green and not cherry and white was the colour of choice), a Cornwall 1919-20 cap, and a trial cap from 1920, hence ‘XX’. Courtesy Pamela Best

In 1927 Herbert sailed once more, this time for Malaya. Camborne RFC presented him with a silver tea service (now a precious family heirloom), and it was said of him that he was

…undoubtedly a tower of strength to the side…an inspiration to any team…[who] always played a clean and sporting game.

Cornish Post and Mining News, January 1 1927, p2

(That said, Herbert was one of three men sent off – and later suspended – for fighting during the notorious 1926 Camborne-Redruth match that led to fixtures being abandoned between the clubs for two years. In his defence, he seems to have retaliated.)

He wouldn’t return home until the mid-1930s, by which time, sadly, he was past his peak. A serious dose of malaria contracted whilst abroad can’t have helped.

Like Bill Biddick, Herbert was a big, strong, tough man. In September 1924, he would be relishing the challenge of playing against the best³⁰.

George Thomas in 1925. Courtesy Leslie Fiedler

Herbert’s greatest pal was George Thomas (1895-1971). They both joined the DCLI’s Territorials in 1914, and people who knew them said that

…they were very keen and friendly rivals for promotion during the war and for county rugby honours afterwards.

Cornish Post and Mining News, September 9 1933, p6

Wakeham achieved the higher military rank and greater rugby recognition. George, no slouch, rose to be Sergeant Major himself, and won eleven caps for Cornwall. Of similar build to Phil Collins (5ft 10, 12st 7), he gained something in the war that Herbert didn’t: George was wounded in France, and hospitalised near St Quentin.

Camborne RFC, 1919-20. Back, l to r: Chinn (trainer), Wells (gym instructor), Herbert Wakeham, L Harvey, T Billing, W J Rogers, E Rodda, George Thomas, P Selwood, R Holman, M Sullivan (Committee). Middle, l to r: A C Beckerleg, E V Pascoe, W B Coules, Jimmy Boase (Captain), L Sullivan, C Reynolds, F Rule, W Lovelock (Committee). Front, l to r: W J McLean, W J Laity, Leonard Hammer. Courtesy Pamela Best

Fortunately, his injuries can’t have been serious, and he was back playing for Camborne – alongside Herbert – for the 1919-20 season. By 1924, he was Town’s Captain, which tells us that George was, with his military experience, a good leader of men. That 1924-5 XV is, by common consent, the finest Camborne side ever assembled: thirteen of the players pictured (above) represented Cornwall; if Rafie Hamblin hadn’t been injured and absent from the photo, the number would have been fourteen.

On his retirement in around 1933 (and George had a long career, making his Camborne debut in 1912 aged 17), he became the side’s trainer. Being a PT instructor in the Army doubtless helped, and his love of Swedish Drill and physical jerks whipped the Town boys into shape throughout the 1930s.

A demonstration of Swedish Drill in the 1930s

(That Camborne had a gym instructor as early as 1919, a role George was to occupy later, serves as a corrective to the notion that coaching and training are relatively modern phenomena. In the amateur era, Camborne’s methods were bordering on the professional. Small wonder they dominated the 1920s.)

Clearly not a man to be taken lightly, George was also something of an entertainer. His banjo playing made him a valued member of a local black-and-white minstrel band, such forms of entertainment being popular at the time.

A minstrel band, Padstow, 1920s. A controversial area of Cornish culture; for more information see my post on the subject here. Image courtesy Padstow Museum.

One imagines that, for the All Blacks, George certainly had his game face on³¹.

Jock Richardson’s big moment in front of the camera is foiled by a team-mate’s big mitt. Still from the 1925 newsreel footage of the tour³²

The New Zealanders had their frivolous side too. Rafie Hamblin would recall how, when the following photograph of the two XVs was taken, there was so much fooling about the lensman finally lost his rag. Certainly, they all look happy to be there.

Only the players can be identified. Cornwall first. Back, l to r: Gavin Young (Army), George Thomas (Camborne), F Rust (CSM, behind two All Blacks), Walter Mayne, Bill Biddick (both Camborne), Ray Jennings, Harvey Ham (both Redruth). Middle, l to r: George Jago (Penryn), Phil Collins (Camborne), James Richards (Capt., Redruth), Fred Barnard (Camborne), Edwal Rees (Exeter Training College). Front, l to r: Albert Gibson (Hayle), Rafie Hamblin, Herbert Wakeham (both Camborne). New Zealand: back, l to r: A Robilliard, A White, I Harvey, H Brown, L Cupples. Middle, l to r: J Parker, N McGregor, J Richardson (Capt.), W Irvine, K Svenson. Front, l to r: J Mill, G Nepia, A Cooke, H Munro, M Brownlie. Courtesy Leslie Fiedler

But that wasn’t all the tomfoolery on display. Shortly before kickoff, the 12,000 crowd crammed cheek by jowl in temporary (and permanent) grandstands were treated to a breathtaking aerobatic display by WW1 Ace Captain Percival Phillips, DFC, of the Cornwall Aviation Company.

Percival Phillips plots his next publicity stunt³³

Phillips’ Avro 504 biplane swooped low over the trees, looped the loop and bombarded the pitch with leaflets advertising cheap joyflights, while the punters gasped in awe.

It later transpired that neither the Cornwall RFU or Camborne RFC had hired, or indeed given Phillips permission to indulge in his little sortie. Hauled before Camborne magistrates’ court, accused (amongst other things) of dangerous flying, Phillips confessed that the only people to consent to his buzzing the Recreation Ground…were the All Blacks themselves³⁴.

The tourists’ mascot – a stuffed Kiwi – was resplendent pitchside at Camborne RFC. Though it’s not mentioned, doubtless a Cornwall fan had tied a pasty to one of the goalposts. Still from the 1925 newsreel footage of the tour³⁵

But it was about to get serious. Camborne Town Band had run through ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. The crowd, thousands of them, had naturally belted out ‘Trelawny’. The National Anthems had been sung. The All Blacks had treated the crowd to what was described as

…their weird war cry…

Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p4

The ‘Haka’, at Twickenham. Still from the 1925 newsreel footage of the tour³⁶

Finally, everyone was about to see what the All Blacks were about.

For it was the rugby people had paid their money for. The tourists were supposed to be the best. The sport historian Lynn McConnell has written that

New Zealand’s sporting success demands that no ground be conceded in the ever improving quest for excellence and staying a step or two ahead of rival nations.

Lynn McConnell, Will the NZ Government be a Party Pooper?³⁷

The All Blacks’ Tour Manager in 1924, Stanley Dean, went further:

Rugby is almost a religion in our country.

Cornubian and Redruth Times, September 25 1924, p6

New Zealand’s players had a reputation to uphold. The previous visitors to the British Isles in 1905, known as ‘The Originals’, had only lost one match, against Wales. They had slaughtered the English XV and made each and every one of their opponents look lumpen and outmoded.

Indeed, before The Originals lost to Wales, the press were in fact calling them The Invincibles³⁸.

The Originals had played the legendary John Jackett’s Cornwall XV too, and beaten them easily. (One Cornish great from that era, Redruth’s international half-back James ‘Maffer’ Davey, was at the match in 1924³⁹.)

Could this New Zealand party go one better than The Originals, and beat everyone? Could Cornwall upstage their 1905 counterparts and pull off a shock victory?

Few at the time thought Cornwall had it in them⁴⁰, but there was a feeling that these tourists were not of the same calibre as the 1905 vintage. Nobody was calling them ‘The Invincibles’ yet (obviously), and in their opening match, Devon had run them surprisingly close⁴¹.

Before the All Blacks had sailed for Britain, Auckland had beaten them in a warm-up match, leading one Original to say that this was

The weakest team New Zealand has ever had; weak in scrums, weak in defence, and lacking in pace…

From Lynn McConnell, All hell breaks loose after Auckland loss⁴³

Even a concerned New Zealand Government had intervened in the tour’s selections. They had a full-back, George Nepia, who looked out of position, and a captain, Cliff Porter, who had no idea why he’d been elected⁴⁴.

However, this was a touring party selected after nine trial matches. This was a touring party who had gelled as a XV in a series of warm-up matches in Australia. This was a touring party who, in their month or so at sea, barring the Sabbath trained every morning from 6:45am till noon. This was a touring party who, reckoning they’d soon be meeting some of the players in person, watched Camborne beat Torquay in Devon, and doubtless made mental notes⁴⁵.

George Nepia (19) warms up in Newton Abbot. Nepia was the most invincible of The Invincibles: he played all 32 matches and was a revelation. Against Cornwall, knowledgeable spectators reckoned he was the best since John Jackett⁴⁶

Once arrived, they practised daily at Newton Abbot, and were rapidly getting admiring murmurs from the press. Their impressive, if not imposing vital stats were recorded, as were the

…exceptionally clever exhibitions of the short passing game…[they] are one of the fastest teams ever sent over, and they are also great tacticians.

Cornishman, September 10 1924, p6

Compare this to Cornwall’s preparation. The final XV was picked from one trial match⁴⁷, and, as Phil Collins’ notice of selection makes clear, there was to be no further warm-ups or training:

The ‘Unicorn’ Hotel in Camborne is now the large public bar of Tyacks Hotel. Courtesy Malcolm Collins

In the previous season’s County Championship, Cornwall had lost all three matches, and were described as the “weakest” XV in England⁴⁸.

After the All Blacks ran in three tries in the opening ten minutes (the final scoreline was 29-0), victory was a foregone conclusion. They were just too good and, like the thousands fortunate enough to see them play at Camborne that day, Cornwall’s players could do little else but admire them⁴⁹.

Probably the only extant photograph of the match. Note the crowd. Albert Gibson looks like he’s a split-second too late to stop the ball being passed out. In the background, Rafie Hamblin rushes up to cover. In the scrum-cap, Gavin Young looks ready to break cover. Courtesy Brett Hamblin

Cornwall’s big, heavy forwards weren’t big and heavy enough. The All Blacks shoved them off the ball and, indeed, all over the pitch. In a game that featured no less than fifty-five scrums, the visitors had ample opportunity to assert themselves. Always unlucky, late in the game Herbert Wakeham had to come off injured. Biddick, Mayne and Thomas were all hard men, but Maurice Brownlie (6ft), Ian Harvey (6ft 1), and Les Cupples (6ft 2) were something else.

England skipper Wavell Wakefield would later say of Brownlie that attempting to tackle him when on the rampage was like trying to fell

…a moving tree-trunk…

Qtd in the New Zealand Sports Hall of Fame

Rafie Hamblin bought a souvenir tour guide for himself, which contains the tourists’ vital stats. Courtesy Kelly Hamblin

Phil Collins, as you would expect, tackled like a demon, but he and Fred Barnard struggled to attack from the centre. Bert Cooke and ‘Snowy’ Svenson closed them down before they could feed Jago and Rees on the wing. Nepia was always lying in wait anyway.

New Zealand on the attack later in the Tour. Still from the 1925 newsreel footage⁵⁰

Albert Gibson and Rafie Hamblin were starved decent possession too. Only fullback Harvey Ham from Redruth emerged from the experience with any credit.

Rafie would later claim that Cornwall’s gracious acceptance of New Zealand’s wish to have both XVs play with a five-eighth formation cost them the match. A seven-man scrum allowed for an extra fly-half, or ‘five-eighth’ outside. Cornwall had never played with such a system before, and it showed. Bert Cooke, a specialist five-eighth, excelled, but then he was probably up against a Cornish forward who had been drafted into the position at the last minute.

Although one suspects Cornwall would have been beaten whatever the formation, Rafie may have had a point. After all, The Originals had employed similar tactics back in 1905, and surely a little homework and practice matches experimenting with the formation wouldn’t have been a waste of time.

Battered and bruised (Cornwall had been brave, and were frequently hurt in the tackle, so tough and conditioned were their opponents), the local boys had earned a drink. They joined the tourists for a slap-up meal at Camborne’s Commercial Hotel.

The Commercial in 1922. Sadly no longer in existence. Image from Francis Frith

New Zealand’s play was rightly eulogised, as was the spirit in which the game was played. Cornwall had shown plenty of guts, but ultimately the All Blacks were superior in every respect.

After their meal, the tourists repaired to the Town Hall, where a dance was laid on. The large number of female spectators at the match had been earlier remarked upon, as had the fact that many of the All Blacks were currently unattached.

What goes on tour, stays on tour.

Everybody wanted a glimpse of The Invincibles. This is Newport. Still from the 1925 newsreel footage⁵¹

The next morning, Friday the 19th, crowds gathered in Commercial Square to see the tourists leave. They had other teams to conquer, they would ultimately conquer them all, and would go down in history as the greatest XV to tour the British Isles ever – The Invincibles⁵².

The people of Camborne had seen something special, something they wouldn’t forget. For those few hours, life in the town wasn’t as bleak. They could leave their concerns behind, and appreciate what New Zealand meant to so many Cornish people: hope.

Maybe the All Blacks sensed this. In the Square they gave the onlookers a private demonstration of their ball-handling skills, which surely thrilled as much as Percy Phillips’ aeroplane.

At the train station, on the platform, the All Blacks turned to face the hundreds of well-wishers and autograph hunters. And there, right there, they performed the Haka, one last time⁵³.

And then, they were gone.

But the memories remained.

With special thanks to: Malcolm Collins (Phil Collins’ grandson); Brett and Kelly Hamblin (Rafie Hamblin’s grandchildren); Leslie Fiedler (Walter’s Mayne’s granddaughter), Hugh Trevarthen (his nephew), and Kathy Oxenham (his niece); Lizzie Mitchell (Fred Barnard’s great-niece); Derek Biddick (Bill Biddick’s son); Peter Thomas (George Thomas’ grandson); Pamela Best (Herbert Wakeham’s daughter).

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is much appreciated.

Donate

References

Read all about Camborne’s Feast Day sporting traditions here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/08/26/cambornes-feast-day-rugby/
From: Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p4.
Cornishman, September 10 1924, p4.
Cornish Post and Mining News, March 23 1924, p5, and May 3 1924, p5. For more on the decline of Cornish mining, see: John Rowe, Cornwall in the Age of the Industrial Revolution, 2nd ed, Cornish Hillside Publications, 1993, p305-326.
Image from: Mining in Cornwall: Volume 8, Camborne to Redruth, by L J Bullen, History Press, 2013, p56.
Cornish Post and Mining News, June 26 1920, p5.
Cornishman, June 9 1920, p4; West Briton, June 24 1920, p4.
Cornish Post and Mining News, March 27 1920, p5; April 3 1920, p5.
Cornish Post and Mining News, June 29 1921, p5; June 21 1924, p5; May 10 1924, p4; April 26 1924, p5.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 20 1921, p6.
Cornishman, November 3 1920, p3.
Cornishman, October 4 1922, p6; Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer, September 30 1922, p14; 1921 census. For more on the cream of Cornish rugby going North, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Image from: Henry Cecil Blackwell, From a Dark Stream: The Story of Cornwall’s Amazing People and Their Impact on the World, Truran, 1986.
Cornish Post and Mining News, January 19 1924, p5.
From: Read Masters, With the All Blacks: In Great Britain, France, Canada and Australia, 1924-5. Christchurch Press, 1928, p6.
From: Philip Payton: The Cornish Overseas: The Epic Story of the ‘Great Migration’, Cornwall Editions, 2005, p256-322.
As noted in the Cornishman, February 2 1924, p7.
The make-up of the committee is noted in the Cornubian and Redruth Times, August 7 1924, p5.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, February 7 1924, p6. The reporter reckoned Camborne would struggle without him. They were wrong.
Cornish Post and Mining News, August 2 1924, p8.
West Briton, May 1 1924, p3.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, February 7 1924, p5.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, February 7 1924, p5.
Tom Salmon’s The First Hundred Years: The Story of Rugby Football in Cornwall, CRFU, 1983, contains lists of all who represented Cornwall.
1921 census, Western Morning News, September 10 1923 p2; Cornishman, November 29 1934, p9. For more on the career of John Collins, see: https://www.epcrugby.com/european-professional-club-rugby/content/rugby-legend-john-collins-reminisces. With special thanks to John’s son, Malcolm.
1911 and 1921 census, Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 4 1923, p5; September 4 1924, p6; Cornishman, October 24 1923, p4; West Briton, December 16 1976, p19. With special thanks to Lizzie Mitchell, Fred’s great-niece.
Cornish Post and Mining News, April 16 1927, p6; September 17 1927, p6; October 6 1928, p6. Cornishman, December 15 1932, p3; August 23 1934, p7. West Briton, June 30 1932, p7; November 8 1990, p41. With special thanks to Rafie’s grandchildren, Brett and Kelly Hamblin.
Cornishman, August 3 1927, p2; West Briton, September 15 1927, p3; February 9 1928, p3; Janaury 5 1984, p6; Cornish Post and Mining News, September 10 1927, p3. Camborne RFC Centenary Handbook, 1878-1978. Biddick was a Private in the 1/5th regiment, DCLI, #2486/240390, which saw action on the Western Front between 1926 and 1918: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_of_Cornwall%27s_Light_Infantry. With special thanks to Derek Biddick, Terry Symons, and Roger Moyle.
Walter’s story is summarised from: Henry Cecil Blackwell, From a Dark Stream: The Story of Cornwall’s Amazing People and Their Impact on the World, Truran, 1986, p213-220. Though Blackwell’s book credits George Jago with introducing the game to Yale, he was only in the USA for little over a year: Cornishman, April 25 1929, p6; West Briton, December 25 1930, p12. See also: 1921 census, Cornishman, August 4 1926, p7; West Briton, June 22 1972, p3. For more on Chicago’s Crane Co., see: https://www.craneco.com/about/history/. For more on Major League rugby in America, see: https://www.majorleague.rugby/history/. With special thanks to Leslie Fiedler, Walter’s granddaughter, Hugh Trevarthen, his great-nephew and Kathy Oxenham, Walter’s niece.
See: Western Morning News, January 3 1921, p3; July 5 1921, p2. Cornubian and Redruth Times, August 30 1924, p8; September 25 1924, p5. London Daily Chronicle, December 6 1924, p9. Cornish Post and Mining News, April 17 1926, p3; January 29 1927, p2. We know Herbert was back in Cornwall by 1935; he was in court for fighting on a bus to Hayle: Cornish Post and Mining News, December 21 1935, p8. For more on the infamous 1926 Camborne -Redruth derby, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/09/02/camborneredruth-the-oldest-continual-rugby-fixture-in-the-world-part-one/. See also: 1921 census, Herbert’s obituary (West Briton, April 18 1963, p11), UK, British Army World War I Medal Rolls Index Cards, 1914-1920 for Seth H Wakeham, here for Transvaal’s Pirates RFC: http://piratesclub.co.za/. With special thanks to Pamela Best, Herbert’s daughter.
See: Cornish Post and Mining News, September 9 1933, p6, which contains a profile of George. Swedish drill image from: https://shop.memorylane.co.uk/mirror/0000to0099-00080/scout-sports-kingston-display-swedish-drill-21381495.html. See UK, British Army World War I Medal Rolls Index Cards, 1914-1920 for Sgt 2471/240385 George Thomas, DCLI. With special thanks to Peter Thomas (of New Zealand), George’s grandson.
Thirty minutes of precious Invincibles footage can be viewed here: https://www.ngataonga.org.nz/search-use-collection/search/F7026/. Sadly, the film crew were not present for the fixture against Cornwall.
Still from the short film on Phillips: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SSn0g7pYTM
Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p4; Cornish Guardian, November 28 1924, p5. Tragically, Phillips died in a ‘plane crash aged 45 in 1938. See: http://www.gamlingayhistory.co.uk/james-browns-blogs/a-poignant-death/, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SSn0g7pYTM, https://www.cornishmemory.com/item/CHA_05
Thirty minutes of precious Invincibles footage can be viewed here: https://www.ngataonga.org.nz/search-use-collection/search/F7026/. Sadly, the film crew were not present for the fixture against Cornwall.
Thirty minutes of precious Invincibles footage can be viewed here: https://www.ngataonga.org.nz/search-use-collection/search/F7026/. Sadly, the film crew were not present for the fixture against Cornwall.
From: https://lynn.substack.com/p/will-the-nz-government-be-a-party
Yorkshire Evening Post, October 11 1905, p3. For more on the 1905 Tour, see: Fifty Years of The All Blacks, ed. Wilfred Wooller and David Owen, Sportsmans Book Club Ltd, 1955, p13-56.
For more on Jackett, Davey, and the Cornish XV of the early 1900s, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/, and https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/20/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-four-the-king-of-cornish-sport/
Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p4. That Cornwall had a chance against New Zealand was something of a joke.
For a report of the Devon match, see: Cornubian and Redruth Times, September 18 1924, p6. The 1925 newsreel footage of the Tour calls the players ‘Invincible’: https://www.ngataonga.org.nz/search-use-collection/search/F7026/.
Image from: Read Masters, With the All Blacks: In Great Britain, France, Canada and Australia, 1924-5. Christchurch Press, 1928, p18.
See: https://lynn.substack.com/p/all-hell-breaks-loose-after-auckland
See Lynn McConnell’s articles: https://lynn.substack.com/p/all-hell-breaks-loose-after-auckland, and https://lynn.substack.com/p/11-cliff-porter-captaincy-surprise
Read Masters, With the All Blacks: In Great Britain, France, Canada and Australia, 1924-5. Christchurch Press, 1928, p1-14. The All Blacks’ presence at the Camborne-Torquay match is mentioned in the Cornishman, September 10 1924, p6.
Image from: Read Masters, With the All Blacks: In Great Britain, France, Canada and Australia, 1924-5. Christchurch Press, 1928, p1-14. The All Blacks’ presence at the Camborne-Torquay match is mentioned in the Cornishman, September 10 1924, p18. See Lynn McConnell’s account of the match (and Nepia’s play) here: https://lynn.substack.com/p/17-referees-get-under-all-blacks. For more on John Jackett, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/06/29/in-search-of-john-jackett-king-of-cornish-sport-part-one/
Cornishman, September 10 1924, p6.
Tom Salmon’s The First Hundred Years: The Story of Rugby Football in Cornwall, CRFU, 1983, p117; Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p8.
The match is summarised from reports in: Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p4, 8; Cornubian and Redruth Times, September 25 1924, p6, and https://lynn.substack.com/p/17-referees-get-under-all-blacks
Thirty minutes of precious Invincibles footage can be viewed here: https://www.ngataonga.org.nz/search-use-collection/search/F7026/. Sadly, the film crew were not present for the fixture against Cornwall.
See above.
See: Fifty Years of The All Blacks, ed. Wilfred Wooller and David Owen, Sportsmans Book Club Ltd, 1955, p57-94, and Read Masters, With the All Blacks: In Great Britain, France, Canada and Australia, 1924-5. Christchurch Press, 1928. Neither book gives much space to the matches against Cornwall.
Cornish Post and Mining News, September 20 1924, p8.

In Search of John Jackett, Part Four: The King of Cornish Sport

(If you missed Part Three, click HERE…)

Reading time: 30 minutes

…the Northern Union is a superior game…

~ John Jackett preaches with the zeal of the converted

I blame the officers of the Rugby Union for the ruin of English Rugby Football.

~ the journalist ‘Rover’ speaks his mind after watching the 1905 All Blacks destroy England¹

Making hay

*Yorkshire Evening Post*, December 22 1911, p5. Think Jonathan Davies, or Scott Gibbs, or Martin Offiah…

In late 1911, John Jackett was made an offer he couldn’t refuse. Business – we are not told what – put him in contact with the Yorkshire theatre impresario George Smith. Jackett spent several days in the man’s company. When he returned to Leicester, his mind was made up.

Jackett would become manager of the Dewsbury Empire Theatre.

He would also, for an undisclosed fee, sign on for the Northern Union (NU) club Dewsbury².

The moment he put pen to paper, John Jackett’s Rugby Union career was over. Sportswriters reckoned his time was nearly up anyway:

He is not by a long way the player he was, and probably recognising this himself, he decided to accept a good offer before it was too late – to make hay while the sun shone – and no one can blame him for seizing the chance…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 4 1912, p3

He wasn’t Leicester’s first choice full-back anymore, and younger players were squeezing him out. Plus, Jackett was no longer the gung-ho, hell-for-leather track cyclist who would commit everything to a win, or crash in the attempt. In 1910, we find him officiating a cycle meet in Leicester³.

That same year, he took part in a novelty sprint – against, of all things, a whippet – at a Falmouth meet⁴. His name was obviously still a draw, but maybe taking part in serious competition was rapidly becoming a thing of the past.

Small wonder, then, that some saw Jackett’s signing for Dewsbury as an attempt to earn some easy appearance money in the fast-approaching twilight of his career.

Perhaps so. But Jackett had probably always done pretty well financially from the amateur game of Rugby Union⁵. He’d regularly, discretely ‘made hay’ wherever and whenever he could. How else do you explain a Northern ‘paper’s statement that

Other clubs have been in search of Jackett’s services for some time, and he has received tempting offers, but his answer has always been ‘Not for sale’.

Yorkshire Evening Post, December 22 1911, p5

Maybe Jackett wasn’t previously for sale because he’d already been bought. As the Royal Cornwall Gazette wryly observed,

…an above-board deal of this sort is infinitely better than the surreptitious and very tempting bait all too often dangled.

January 4 1912, p3

It’s easy to guess which clubs the Gazette was referring to: Jackett’s most recent Union outfit, Leicester, and Devonport Albion, with whom he had earlier had a season⁶.

So John Jackett was allowed to ride off into the sunset of his career and earn himself a few (legitimate) bob as a stadium-filler for an unfashionable NU club. Dewsbury hadn’t won a trophy of any kind since 1881⁷.

Admittedly, Cornwall and Leicester were sad to see him go, but ultimately wished him all the best, and no hard feelings⁸.

A more weather-beaten Jackett in his first season with Dewsbury⁹

Both Cornwall and Leicester thought they knew, and understood, John Jackett. They were forgetting that, throughout the course of his sporting life, he’d singlemindedly dedicated himself to being the best at any game he could turn his hand to.

His devotion to sport had, for certain periods, left him bereft of a regular, or conventional occupation. To be able to join, and play for, the best rugby teams in the land, he’d courted controversy and risked suspension. His drive to succeed was extraordinary.

Doubtless realising he wasn’t getting any younger or faster, Jackett craved one last challenge. Track cycling was now beyond him. He’d been the Cornish champion anyway. In Rugby Union, he’d won the County Championship with Cornwall, represented England and toured New Zealand with the (then-named) Anglo-Welsh XV. He even had an Olympic medal.

He’d done all he could in Rugby Union. But laurels, for Jackett, weren’t there to park your backside on. The NU was a new game to master, to win at. In an interview for the Yorkshire Evening Post, Jackett remarked how he had observed his opposite number for Hull KR, who

…is quite the best full-back I have seen…I watched him closely, and now I think I know how to realise my proper function as Dewsbury’s full-back…

February 3 1912, p3

If you want to be the best, learn from the best. Jackett wasn’t just along for the ride. Furthermore,

…I am having to unlearn much of that which I have learnt in the past.

Jackett is completely forsaking his Rugby Union past. He is 100% committed to Dewsbury and the NU.

Granted, in the Post interview he talks fondly of Leicester RFC and Cornwall’s annus mirabilis, 1908. But, like other interviews Jackett gave over the course of his life¹⁰, what’s not being said is as important as what he’s saying.

Although his interviewer mentions in passing Jackett’s international career, not once does the man himself touch on his time with England or the Anglo-Welsh tour.

Here we can suggest another reason why Jackett joined the NU: dejection, maybe bitterness, with the RFU and its ethos.

To begin to see why this might be the case, we have to go back to Jackett’s England debut in 1905…

The Crumpled Rose

There’s baptisms of fire, and then there’s making your international rugby debut against the 1905 All Blacks – ‘The Originals’.

They weren’t quite up to the calibre of the legendary 1924 Invincibles¹¹, but only marginally: The Originals only lost one game, against Wales¹².

In 35 matches they scored 976 points, and conceded only 59.

They introduced innovative – and controversial – playing positions. The forwards all passed like threequarters, and the threequarters passed like Welshmen. They were all incredibly fit. Hell, they even practised their lineouts.

In other words, they played rugby like a modern XV, and instantly made their opponents look outmoded and Victorian by comparison¹³. The one thing they lacked was a decent haka:

Definitely not the glorious piece of intimidatory theatre it is now…¹⁴

Before Jackett was selected for England, his Cornishmen had met the Tourists at Camborne RFC in September. The Cornish XV, under Jackett’s leadership, were finally developing into a promising unit, but the All Blacks were something else. They’d marmalised Devon 55-4 days previously; Cornwall, by contrast, had never beaten Devon¹⁵.

With a certain degree of inevitability, Cornwall were overwhelmed 41-0, the visitors scoring four goals and seven tries:

Cornwall could not stand the pace. The whole of the second half they had to settle down in their own twenty-five and defend…the brilliant lightning-like flashes of passing, broke Cornwall up…

Western Morning News, September 22 1905, p3

That said, Jackett and his men had shown plenty of grit, and there was no shame in such a result¹⁶.

Surely, thought John Jackett as he read of his selection, a XV of England’s best men could match the tourists?

The England team before that watershed game against the All Blacks. Jackett is third from right¹⁷

At Crystal Palace, with 100,000 fans (including the future George V) in attendance, New Zealand ran in five tries, winning 15-0.

The All Blacks on the attack. From Wikimedia

The beating handed them by the All Blacks was nothing compared to the slaughtering that awaited England in the Press:

England had been an embarrassment:

The score in no way represents the intrinsic superiority of the New Zealanders. One side played practically all the football; the other side played the fool…

‘Rover’, Morning Leader, December 4 1905, p6

Stagnation and conservatism from the top down was the cause of English rugby’s woes:

I blame the officers of the Rugby Union for the ruin of English football. They have tried to keep the game exclusive, they have tried to keep all the plums for public school boys and Varsity men, they have tried to jockey the working man out of the game, and they have nearly succeeded.

‘Rover’, Morning Leader, December 4 1905, p6

Furthermore, ‘Rover’ continued, there had been no attempt to embrace the fast, daring approach of, say, Leicester, Devonport Albion or any club in Wales. England’s only worthy performer on the day was, in fact, a Leicester (and formally Albion) man – John Jackett:

This was the only department in the game where we were superior to the enemy.

‘Rover’, Morning Leader, December 4 1905, p6

Jackett trudged from the field, wearing an All Black jersey:

Though he had acquitted himself well, maybe he was in a reflective mood. Maybe playing at the pinnacle of English rugby wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. His Cornish team of miners and fishermen had surely given a better account of themselves against the All Blacks, yet here he was with men with supposedly better opportunities and backgrounds, who had no stomach for it?

What’s more, Jackett’s new team-mates were predominantly the kind of player the Cornish were desperate to have a crack at. When that chance came in 1908 against Middlesex, Cornwall’s partisan local Press had dismissed them as soft

Varsity men and public school boys, who will probably crack…

West Briton, February 17 1908, p3¹⁹

But here Jackett was, on the same XV as a bunch of nobs. It can’t have been a comfortable experience.

For English Rugby Union in the early 1900s was a game in the doldrums. The advent of the NU in 1895 had robbed the game of much of its innovation and talent. To add insult to schism, the NU made frequent forays into Union heartlands, acquiring the best talent for itself²⁰.

RFU clubs in turn made a mockery of the Union’s anti-professionalism laws by keeping their top men sweet – and away from the temptations of the NU. Some ‘shamateur’ teams, such as Jackett’s Leicester, were so powerful and valuable to the RFU that the game’s governing body was loathe to call them out in a show of strength²¹.

Enthusiasm dwindled. In 1895 the English RFU had 416 adult clubs; by 1905 the total was just 155²².

As it was the working-class, Industrial North that had engendered the 1895 split, the RFU’s response was to close its amateur, public-school, Home Counties ranks and shun the working man.

In the Edwardian era, it’s possibly the only thing the RFU undertook with any success. In 1894, 36% of England internationals had working-class backgrounds. Between 1906 and 1910, it was only 13%²³.

Class prejudice was endemic in the highest echelons of the game. As one RFU crony remarked, to say that the working man

…knows more about the game than one who has been brought up in the best traditions of the public schools and universities is absurd.

Qtd in Tony Collins, A Social History of English Rugby Union, Routledge, 2009, p39

This was the kind of atmosphere Jackett would encounter. How you spoke and where you came from was more important than how you played²⁴.

And the play wasn’t great either:

Opponent	Venue	Date	Result	Score	Game
NZ	Crystal Palace	2/12/1905	Loss	15-0	Test
Wales	Richmond	13/1/1906	Loss	16-3	Home Nations
Ireland	Leicester	10/2/1906	Loss	16-6	Home Nations
Scotland	Inverleith	17/3/1906	Win	9-3	Home Nations
France	Parc de Princes	22/3/1906	Win	35-8	Test
S. Africa	Crystal Palace	8/12/1906	Draw	3-3	Test
France	Richmond	5/1/1907	Win	41-13	Test
Wales	Swansea	12/1/1907	Loss	22-0	Home Nations
Ireland	Dublin	9/2/1907	Loss	17-9	Home Nations
Scotland	Blackheath	16/3/1907	Loss	8-3	Home Nations
France	Stade Colombe	1/1/1908	Win	19-0	Test
Wales	Bristol	18/1/1908	Loss	28-18	Home Nations
Ireland	Richmond	8/2/1908	Win	13-3	Home Nations
Scotland	Inverleith	21/3/1908	Loss	21-3	Home Nations
Australia	Blackheath	9/1/1909	Loss	9-3	Test
Wales	Cardiff	16/1/1909	Loss	8-0	Home Nations
France	Leicester	30/1/1909	Win	22-0	Test
Ireland	Dublin	13/2/1909	Win	11-5	Home Nations
Scotland	Richmond	20/3/1909	Loss	18-8	Home Nations

England’s results during the period Jackett was an international. Matches where he played are shown in bold

Of the thirteen internationals John Jackett played, England won four and drew one. Of these victories, two came against the newest national XV on the block, France, who were only admitted to the Home Nations Championship in 1910, thus making the competition the Five Nations.

When England beat Les Bleus 22-0 in 1909, it was written that

…the play was of a very moderate character…England won easily…but their form scarcely justified such a wide margin.

Leicester Daily Post, February 1 1909, p6

England putting in a spot of lineout drills ahead of the France game back in 1906. From *The Graphic*, March 31 1906, p12

Indeed, an English victory over any side other than France in these years was something of a shock. In March 1906 they regained the Calcutta Cup over a much-fancied Scottish team. Adrian Stoop came into the England XV at the expense of Jackett’s old Falmouth pal, Raphael Jago²⁵, and made the difference.

Jackett also played his part:

He twice stopped what looked like irresistible Scottish rushes, and after the second he got in a kick that developed into a general passing rush by the Englishmen…

Morning Post, March 19 1906, p9

Overall, though, Jackett’s England career was undistinguished, mainly because England were undistinguished too. In 1907 they lost all three Home Nations matches, and won, if that’s the word, the infamous wooden spoon. Jackett played all three matches.

Courtesy Danny Trick, Falmouth RFC. James Peters was the last black player to be capped by England until Jeremy Guscott in 1989²⁶

In the final match of 1907 against Scotland, Jackett had to suffer the indignity of having the ball chipped over his head to set up a Scottish try. In happier circumstances, it’s the kind of cheeky move he would have loved to pull himself²⁷.

Scotland about to score the winning try. Jackett, lining up the man in possession, has his back to the camera. From the *Daily Mirror*, March 18 1907, p8

He also had to contend with an RFU selection policy that would often award a cap to a local player in an attempt to put bums on seats. This happened in 1908 when England lost to Wales 18-28 in Bristol. A Gloucester man got the nod ahead of Jackett²⁸.

In one of his most successful years, 1908, Jackett was bizarrely not picked for England at all. He’d captained Cornwall to the County Championship, won an Olympic Medal, and been selected for the Anglo-Welsh Tour of New Zealand³⁰. But that wasn’t good enough for England.

The nadir was reached in March 1909. For months, Scotland had been refusing to play England. It was a move made in protest at the daily ‘pocket money’ granted the 1905 New Zealanders. Added to this, RFU President Charles Crane had resigned over the impotency of his organisation regarding the Leicester affair. These were dark days for English rugby³¹.

Somehow, the rift with Scotland was papered over, and the game went ahead. Jackett, in form after England’s first victory in Ireland for 14 years³², was inked in for the Calcutta Cup game. Some expressed surprise at his being the only Cornish selection:

…strange to say, E. J. Jackett is the only one connected with the champion county, Cornwall, considered worth a place…

Manchester Courier, March 9 1909, p3

Scotland came to Richmond and thrashed England 18-8. The Calcutta Cup went back North, as it had done every time Scotland had travelled South for the last 25 years. Jackett was outplayed by his opposite number, and it was his final international³³.

The crowd goes wild when England score their first try. From *The Illustrated Sport and Dramatic News*, March 27 1909, p8

Surely his tour to New Zealand in 1908 was more enjoyable?

A very sick animal

The 1908 Anglo-Welsh Tour Party. Jackett sits in the front row, second from right. Next but one to *his* right is James ‘Maffer’ Davey, of Redruth. In the back row, fourth from right, is Fred Jackson, of Leicester. Both won the County Championship in 1908 with Jackett. Image courtesy Mr John Jackett, Falmouth

To call the 1908 Anglo-Welsh Tour a British and Irish Lions Tour is, to say the least, stretching it a bit. Of course, in 1950 all British Isles tours were retrospectively stamped with the Lions brand, including the 1908 edition. But even at the time, the 28 players selected were hardly representative of the entire British Isles³⁴.

From the get-go,

…strenuous efforts to induce the Scottish and Irish Unions to sanction the inclusion of their players in the side have been futile, and the team will be an Anglo-Welsh combination.

Daily Mirrot, January 3 1908, p14

Scotland and Ireland, still smarting at the liberal amounts of daily spending money permitted the 1905 Originals, boycotted the return tour Down Under. An Anglo-Welsh combination it would have to be, but even then,

Not one of the men would be chosen for a representative British team of to-day; some of the players could not find places in the second team of a first-class Welsh club…

Athletic News (Lancashire), March 9 1908, p1

Only 11 members of the touring party were capped internationals. Five players were Old Boys of Christ’s College, Brecon, and there was a man each from Oxford and Cambridge³⁵. At least Jackett had his old mates Maffer Davey and Fred Jackson for company (see image above).

A dapper Jackett, as he was when selected³⁶

Bearing in mind the all-powerful Lions outfits of modern times, what, if anything, was hoped to be achieved with such a cobbled-together outfit? The official line was announced during the farewell dinner held at The Howard, on The Strand:

…the tour would be of service to the great cause of rugby football…the time was opportune to give assistance to those who were fighting against professionalism in the Colonies…

Sportsman, April 4 1908, p3

A professional All Blacks team operating under NU rules had visited the British Isles in 1907³⁷. To spread the increasingly battered gospel of RFU amateurism, a good-will tour of the Antipodes was thought the appropriate remedy.

That’s the official line. It’s obvious many of the players prioritised women, booze and high-jinks above any actual rugby they might play. In fact the 1908 Anglo-Welsh Tour appears to have been undertaken in the best (and worst) traditions of any club team when they’re far away from home.

In New Zealand, however, the following question was asked:

Furthermore, the

…English Union…recognised in football a means of recreation and amusement…Here [New Zealand] there was a tending to regard it chiefly as a sport, and as a means of attracting big gates and big monetary returns.

Evening Post (NZ), May 15 1908, p3

Ne’er the twain shall meet. Recreation and amusement were much in evidence on the Tourists’ voyage:

…they eschewed shipboard training…on the grounds that gentlemen who played the game for its own sake had no reason to prepare for it.

The NZ journalist Ron Palenski, qtd in Tom Mather, Rugby’s Greatest Mystery: Who Really Was F. S. Jackson?, London League Publications, 2012, p33

Stories filtered back of a player dressed as ‘King Neptune’ honouring the Gods of the Ocean by daubing his fellow travellers with a concoction of treacle and flour³⁸.

What the teetotal, fitness-fanatic and dedicated trainer John Jackett made of all this is anyone’s guess. That said, he may have appreciated a break. The tourists sailed on April 3; on March 28, he, Jackson and Davey had been in Redruth, winning the County Championship.

Suffice, when the squad finally arrived, one reporter was unimpressed, remarking on

…the sturdiness of their build gained on the steamer…Some of the men seemed in rather poor condition…

Otago Witness, May 20 1908, p62

By some miracle, the tourists won the opening match against Wairarapa, it being noted that Jackett was

…in brilliant form…

Daily Telegraph (NZ), May 25 1908, p14

Obviously he’d prepared himself in time-honoured fashion.

Storm-clouds were gathering though. Back home, the RFU’s investigation into Leicester was heating up, and rumours were beginning to circulate that Fred Jackson wasn’t who he said he was. The Tour’s evangelistic amateur purity was immediately put under strain, and the very point of sending such an outfit to a land where shamateurism was rife was also brought into question³⁹.

Surely the only riposte was for the Tourists to do their talking on the pitch?

A contemporary cartoon by William Blomfield⁴⁰

At Dunedin in the First Test, in front of 19,000 spectators, they went down 32-5. The All Blacks ran in seven tries. If modern scoring regulations were in force, the result would have read 46-7. But in any context, that’s a beating⁴¹.

By half-time the hosts led 21-0, and

…from this stage onwards there was little interest in the result.

New Zealand Times, June 8 1908, p5

The Anglo-Welsh XV were utterly overwhelmed:

…the lion was a very sick animal indeed.

New Zealand Times, June 8 1908, p5

If the All Blacks’ haka was, to our eyes, lacklustre, the Tourists’ response of crying ‘hip-hip-hooray!’ was as laughable as their play⁴².

There was little lacklustre about the All Blacks’ playing style, however⁴³

There was one shining light: John Jackett. His kicking, tackling and general industry ensured the All Blacks were unable to push their dominance even more⁴⁴. As the tour progressed, his reputation was enhanced:

…the inclusion of Jackett as fullback will give additional interest, as his performance in the position is said to be quite a revelation.

Colonist, June 20 1908, p2

Another ‘paper revelled in his “eccentric genius”⁴⁵.

Not so the rest of the party, whose pathological adherence to the amateur ideal hamstrung them at every turn. In an early match against Wellington, they played most of the game with 14 men after Jackett went off injured. The offer of a substitute (legal in New Zealand) by the hosts was refused. This happened again in the final match of the tour, when even the crowd exhorted the stubborn Britishers to field a replacement, but to no avail⁴⁶.

The New Zealand public recognised the shortcomings of their visitors, one fan even going so far as to suggest playing an uncapped XV for the Second Test, thus ensuring a more palatable spectacle⁴⁷.

The All Blacks did field a weaker team second time round. A 3-3 draw was the result, but the home XV could have won, were it not for

…Jackett, who kicked the ball amongst the spectators, robbing the Blacks of a seemingly certain try.

Colonist, June 29 1908 p2

Jackett was renowned as one of the “Death or Glory” boys at Leicester, an approach lacking in New Zealand. *Leicester Daily Mercury*, September 5 1908, p7

Normal service was resumed for the Final Test, where the All Blacks dished out a 29-0 thrashing.

By this stage, the Anglo-Welsh party was a shambles. Two unidentified members went fishing on a boat which capsized. Jackett himself, with the aid of two All Blacks, put the experiences of a lifetime to good use by saving another player from drowning, then seems to have started a mischievous rumour about himself going to work for the New Zealand Tourist Board. Their interests in the fairer sex were sardonically observed, with one player, Vassall, missing the boat to Australia on account of these extracurricular activities⁴⁸.

The Tourists also complained bitterly about the All Blacks’ rough play, and accused them of outright cheating⁴⁹.

Worse still, their image as paragons of amateur virtue had been destroyed. Gossip columnists reckoned at least one Anglo-Welshman had been clandestinely recruiting for the NU whilst in New Zealand⁵⁰, and Fred Jackson had been recalled home to face the RFU’s music. He sailed on June 26⁵¹.

He never returned to England.

A man even more enigmatic than John Jackett: Fred Jackson

As a result of the RFU’s investigations into Leicester RFC, it became apparent that ‘Fred Jackson’ had played NU for Swinton, under the alias John Jones. In fact, the man’s real name was Ivor Gape, and he was neither Cornish, nor English, but Welsh. Rather than sail home, he jumped ship, settled in New Zealand and eventually represented the All Blacks NU side. He died in 1957⁵².

Jackett watched his old Cornwall and Leicester comrade sail off, and was so overcome team-mates had to lead him away⁵³.

Which raises an interesting point. Why would Jackett be upset? After all, he’d surely see Jackson again in England? Jackett’s grief only makes sense if he knew Jackson had no intention of returning home: Jackett knew he’d never see his friend again. And if Jackett knew that, what else did he know of Jackson’s story?

We can speculate that Jackson had taken Jackett into his confidence: Jackett knew Jackson had played for the NU, and that ‘Fred Jackson’ wasn’t in fact his real name. And if Jackett knew that, he would have also been aware that, in playing with Jackson for Leicester, he had knowingly professionalised himself.

All of which makes his following statement ring rather hollow:

Any suggestions which are made reflecting upon the amateur bona fides of the club are, you can take it from me, most unjustifiable.

Yorkshire Evening Post, February 3 1912, p3

For the rest of his life, John Jackett never publicly uttered a word about Fred Jackson. He would have also known that, if Jackson was in hot water at Leicester, then he probably was too.

Despite being the Anglo-Welsh Tour’s sole success, Jackett was only to represent England on four more occasions.

His approach to the game, his methods and outlook, a lack of public school polish, allied to the questionable activities of his club, Leicester, perhaps meant his face didn’t fit with the RFU.

Maybe Jackett suspected, or realised this. He could have gone quietly and ended his playing days at Leicester. But not John Jackett. Nor Fred Jackson.

One final slap in the face sent him to Dewsbury.

Fry’s

It may not surprise readers to learn that Jackett was something of a rugby theorist. He contributed an article on threequarter play to a New Zealand ‘paper, and shows how deeply he thought about the game, how serious his approach was⁵⁴.

It would have also put him at odds with the Rugby Establishment.

First off, Jackett emphasises “systematic training” for his threes in various key areas. For cast-iron amateurs, ‘training’ was a dirty word.

The best threequarters he’d seen in action (and Jackett by 1908 had seen them all), were the Welsh:

…the best and cleverest players in the world…in my opinion the Welsh three-quarters cannot be beaten.

Evening Star (NZ), January 13 1908, p8

He also identified the Welsh centre Gwyn Nicholls⁵⁵ as the “finest the world has ever seen”.

Nicholls wasn’t selected for the Anglo-Welsh Tour.

Contrast that with his opinion of England’s outsides:

English players do not study the game sufficiently. They are not serious enough in their efforts…

For ‘serious’, read ‘professional’. Jackett outlined a thorough training programme (speed, swerving, tackling, punting, following-up, judgment), as well as recommending the back-line formation pioneered by the All Blacks – and to start coaching said formation to youngsters, thus “inculcating the idea into their minds”.

As Jackett’s article goes on, it becomes a critique of English rugby’s methods:

English rugby footballers were inferior to the All Blacks…because they were not so fast…[they] are lacking in judgment. They have no plan of action…

Jackett concludes by wishing that

If only the English ‘outs’ could practice together and there was not so much changing in the composition of the team, England would have done far better in the past.

Systematic training methods, youth development, consistency in selection. But the RFU were never going to listen to John Jackett. Adrian Stoop had similar ideas to his, and being as Establishment (Rugby School, Oxford University, Harlequins) as they come, he could finally start to change the system from within⁵⁶.

Although Stoop (left) and Jackett thought deeply about the English game, it’s fair to say the two men had little else in common. One became President of the RFU; the other joined the NU⁵⁷

Jackett saw his ideas and criticisms ignored, as were his captaincy skills. Had he not whipped an unfancied bunch of Cornishmen into being the best in the land? What might he have done in charge of England?

The article he produced on full-back play in October 1911 for C. B. Fry’s Magazine was far from ignored⁵⁸. Jackett was widely condemned for the writing the following:

Always remember that you can better get and hold a ball that has bounced…

Fry’s Magazine, October 1911, p47. Bodleian Library, Oxford

Jackett appears to be advising full-backs to not catch the ball in the air, but to rather wait for it to bounce before fielding it. This practice, as anyone will tell you, is rugby suicide.

How they lined up to shoot him down:

…the practice is condemned…the man who is uncertain about a catch or who ‘funks’ it by waiting for the drop is rightly regarded as not being up to his game…

Morning Leader, October 4 1911, p6

Jackett suddenly had a

…fatal obsession for ‘waiting for the bounce’ – the worst of all faults in a full-back.

Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 4 1912, p3

However, his critics were misreading, or ignoring Jackett’s text:

Of course there will be many times in a match when you cannot allow the ball to bounce…the opposing men may be too near you, or the screw on the ball may make you not at all certain which way it would turn after bouncing…

Fry’s Magazine, October 1911, p47. Bodleian Library, Oxford

Before the article appeared, Jackett had been noted as a full-back who, if he could help it, didn’t allow the ball to bounce. Indeed, the earliest recorded instances of him playing rugby note his safe pair of hands when dealing with the high kick⁵⁹. The reaction to the Fry’s article damaged his reputation.

Jackett rightly took up the cudgels:

I have been wrongly quoted…It is true that the ball is easier to take from the bounce, but that involves a delay in fielding which may be fatal, and, therefore, I say always go for the ball before it bounces.

Yorkshire Evening Post, February 3 1912, p3

They wouldn’t listen to him. They twisted his words. They wouldn’t take him seriously. They wouldn’t pick him. They thought he was finished. And, most risible of all for an arch-competitor like Jackett, England kept losing.

Small wonder he jacked it all in for the NU.

A light of other days

Dewsbury NU Club, Challenge Cup Winners, 1911-12. Jackett sits far right. Courtesy Mark Warren, Camborne RFC

Jackett wasn’t exactly joining a top NU outfit. In the 1910-11 season, Dewsbury finished a middling tenth in the League. Silverware was a memory from the 1880s⁶⁰.

All that would change with the big-name signing of John Jackett. He was making his mark as early as December 1911, kicking three goals in a victory over Wakefield Trinity⁶¹. His presence certainly “heightened interest”⁶², and he enjoyed a certain media attention:

Yorkshire – and professional rugby – accepted him as one of their own. From the *Yorskshire Evening Post*, March 2 1912, p6

Jackett himself was an enthusiastic participant. The NU game is

…the more open, and the one in which there is less time wasted; therefore, it must be a better game from the spectators’ point of view.

Yorkshire Evening Post, February 3 1912, p3

It was later heard in Cornwall that Jackett believed the NU game “superior” to Rugby Union⁶³. He demonstrated this in deeds as well as words: there are reports of him recommending Union players for Dewsbury to tempt North⁶⁴.

John Jackett was not a man to do things by half. In the Second Round of the 1912 Challenge Cup at Salford (a close-run 9-8 victory for Dewsbury in front of 16,000), he “outshone” his younger, faster opposite number⁶⁵.

Coming second to Jackett that day was Harry Launce (or Lance), who had joined Salford in August 1911 from Camborne RFC. It would be fascinating to know what they said to each other.

In the Quarters, Dewsbury came through 5-2 against Batley. Jackett’s kicking for once was off, but his tackling was “always deadly”. His team were having a good run, but this year Oldham were tipped to win overall⁶⁷.

18,000 watched the Semi at Dewsbury’s ground, Crown Flatt (now the FLAIR Stadium). Jackett may have been pushing the years, but he knew when to put his body on the line: a try-saving tackle meant his team beat Halifax 8-5⁶⁸.

20,000 watched the Final in Leeds, as Dewsbury faced the favourites, Oldham. Lancashire against Yorkshire in the Challenge Cup Final – it doesn’t get bigger. At half-time, Dewsbury led 5-2. Only Jackett’s last-ditch tackling was keeping them ahead.

And then, all the years of single-minded dedication and practice paid off. Jackett slammed a monster kick deep, deep into OIdham’s half, sparking a mad scramble back. It was the kind of kick defending teams hate, and it pushed Oldham perilously close to both the touchline, and their own tryline.

John Jackett, past it? Not on your life. He could still gift his set of forwards a dream position when it was asked of him.

Oldham failed to clear up, and Dewsbury scored. For the first time in their history, they had won the Challenge Cup. They wouldn’t repeat the feat until 1943, and haven’t won it since⁶⁹.

The auditorium of Dewsbury’s Empire, Jackett’s theatre. The Empire was demolished in 1960⁷⁰

Sadly, Jackett’s playing time with Dewsbury was short. Even at the start of the 1912-13 season, he was described as

…a light of other days…

Yorkshire Evening Post, September 13 1912, p3

A broken jaw suffered against Coventry in October 1912 kept him out for six weeks. It was the beginning of the end⁷¹.

Being John Jackett, he didn’t go quietly. Controversial to the last, he requested a transfer when a satisfactory explanation regarding his non-selection for a game in March 1914 wasn’t forthcoming⁷².

His ever-burgeoning theatre commitments, allied to his age, meant his appearances for Dewsbury became ever-more sporadic. One of his final games was against Rochdale Hornets, where he came up against another Camborne and Cornwall player, Sam Carter⁷³.

Sam Carter is the only Camborne player to have represented Cornwall and won the Challenge Cup⁷⁴

By early 1915, it was all over⁷⁵. A lifelong dog-lover, Jackett switched his energies to his beloved Chows, winning prizes at Crufts in the early 1930s⁷⁶. He also gained a reputation as a selfless coach of young rugby players⁷⁷.

Finally, people listened to his wisdom.

The King of Cornish Sport

From left: **John Jackett** (1878-1935): Leicester 1908 (when selected for the Lions), Dewsbury 1912 (when won the Challenge Cup). **Tom ‘Tosh Holliday** (1898-1969): Aspatria 1924, and Oldham 1927. **Roy Kinnear** (1904-1942); Heriots’ RFC 1924, and Wigan 1929. **Bev Risman** (1937-2023): Loughborough College 1959, and Leeds 1968. **John Bevan** (1950-): Cardiff 1971, and Warrington 1974. **Scott Gibbs** (1971-): Swansea 1993 & 2001, and St Helens 1996. **Jason Robinson** (1974-): Sale 2001 & 2005, Wigan 1993. With thanks to Professor Tony Collins

At time of writing, only seven men have represented the British Lions and won the Rugby League (or Northern Union) Challenge Cup. If we allow for the obvious qualifications regarding the 1908 Anglo-Welsh Tour (and the British Lions website certainly does⁷⁸), then John Jackett was the first. As you can see above, this puts him in a pretty exclusive club.

Of the seven, only two of them, Jackett and Tosh Holliday, captained County Championship winning XVs. Holliday took Cumberland & Westmorland all the way in 1924⁷⁹. Only Jackett has won an Olympic Medal. His achievements are truly extraordinary.

In purely Cornish sporting terms, these accolades surely put him head and shoulders above any other sportsman Cornwall has produced. If you include his early, pioneering prowess as a track cyclist and athlete, then you can say with some confidence that John Jackett was the best there ever was, the

King of Cornish Sport.

Complex, controversial, intelligent, outspoken, single-minded, competitive, talented, individualistic yet a born leader, John Jackett died in Middlesborough in 1935.

A man who knew him said he had dedicated his

…heart and soul…

Leicester Evening Mail, November 13 1935, p6

…to rugby football.

Unsurprisingly, a racehorse was named after him. Equally unsurprisingly, the ‘John Jackett’ proved very successful, setting a world record time for a hurdle race in Manchester⁸⁰.

John Jackett – what better name for a thoroughbred?

With special thanks to: Danny Trick and Victoria Sutcliffe, Falmouth RFC; Mr John Jackett of Falmouth; Professor Tony Collins; Adrian Ellard, Cape Town; Richard Pascoe, St Piran Pro Cycling; Donna Westlake, Falmouth Town Council; Dewsbury Rams RLFC; Dr Sharron P. Schwartz, Exeter University; Phil Westren, Cornish Pirates RFC; David Fuge, Plymouth Albion RFC; Mark Warren, Camborne RFC, and many more.

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

Excerpts from: West Briton, January 15 1914, p3; Morning Leader, December 4 1905, p6.
Yorkshire Evening Post, December 22 1911, p5. The Dewsbury RLFC official history (chapter 6) witholds Jackett’s fee.
Leicester Evening Mail, October 16 1910, p6 and the Leicester Daily Mercury, November 22 1911, p6. For more on Jackett’s cycling exploits, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/06/29/in-search-of-john-jackett-king-of-cornish-sport-part-one/
Cornish Echo, August 12 1910, p7.
See: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
See: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
For more on Dewsbury Rams, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewsbury_Rams
Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 4 1912, p3; Leicester Daily Mercury, November 22 1911, p6.
Image from the Dewsbury RLFC official history, chapter 6.
Witness the two where he touches on his time in South Africa: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/06/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-two-the-artists-model-the-coastguards-daughter/
Played 32, won 32. See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1924%E2%80%9325_New_Zealand_rugby_union_tour_of_Britain,_Ireland_and_France
A game that was billed as ‘The Match of the Century’: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Match_of_the_Century_(rugby_union)
The All Blacks employed a ‘rover’, an early version of a wing-forward. All their pack had allocated scrummaging positions – in the British Isles, it was still ‘first up, first down’. In the outsides, instead of a left and right half-back style (where modern scrum- and fly-half duties are alternated), the All Blacks had a dedicated scrum-half, with the 10 and 12 combining for a more defensively solid five-eighth formation. For more on The Originals tour, including results, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Original_All_Blacks
Image from: https://www.theoffsideline.com/remembering-1905-originals-overcome-icy-edinburgh-reception/
See: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
In 1906, Jackett’s men held the South Africans to 9-6 in Redruth: Cornishman, December 27 1906, p5. At Camborne in 1909, the Australians beat a Cornwall minus Jackett 18-5. His absence was “badly felt”: Western Echo, October 10 1908, p3.
Image from: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:England_rugby_team_1905.jpg
See: https://www.falmouthpacket.co.uk/news/17669461.john-jacketts-1905-new-zealand-blacks-top-auctioned-off/
See In Search of John Jackett, Part Three: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
The effects of this on Cornish rugby can be seen in my post on the subject here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
See In Search of John Jackett, Part Three: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
Figures from: Tony Collins, A Social History of English Rugby Union, Routledge, 2009, p39.
Tony Collins, A Social History, p39.
For more on this period, see: Tony Collins, A Social History, p22-46, and his Rugby’s Great Split: Class, Culture and the Origins of Rugby League Football, Frank Cass, 1998. Also, James W. Martens, “They Stooped to Conquer: Rugby Union Football, 1895-1914”, Journal of Sport History, Vol. 20.1 (1993): p25-41.
See In Search of John Jackett, Part Three: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
For more on Peters, see: https://www.skysports.com/rugby-union/news/12321/12717311/james-jimmy-peters-the-tragic-and-turbulent-story-of-englands-first-black-rugby-player
Morning Leader, March 20 1907, p8.
Leicester Daily Mercury, January 1 1908, p3.
Image from: https://www.tate-images.com/MB8825-Photograph-of-Johnny-Jackett-wearing-his-England.html
See In Search of John Jackett, Part Three: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
Daily Mirror, February 1 1909, p14, and In Search of John Jackett, Part Three: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
Daily Mirror, February 15 1909, p14.
Morning Leader, March 22 1909, p6.
For more information, see: https://www.espn.co.uk/rugby/story/_/id/18778556/1908-lions-tour-new-zealand-unmitigated-shambles, https://www.lionsrugby.com/2010/01/25/the-lions-down-under-1908/, and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1908_British_Lions_tour_to_New_Zealand_and_Australia
Information from: https://www.espn.co.uk/rugby/story/_/id/18778556/1908-lions-tour-new-zealand-unmitigated-shambles
Image from: The Tigers Tale: The Official History of Leicester Football Club 1880-1993, by Stuart Farmer and David Hands, ACL & Polar Publishing, 1993, p20.
Tony Collins, Rugby’s Great Split, p218-24.
Tom Mather, Rugby’s Greatest Mystery: Who Really Was F. S. Jackson?, London League Publications, 2012, p31.
Athletic News (Lancashire), June 1 1908, p1.
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1908_British_Lions_tour_to_New_Zealand_and_Australia
Daily News (London), June 8 1908, p2, and New Zealand Times, June 8 1908, p5. In 1908, a try was worth 3 points, a conversion 2. The All Blacks converted four of their tries, and kicked a 3-point penalty.
From: https://www.espn.co.uk/rugby/story/_/id/18778556/1908-lions-tour-new-zealand-unmitigated-shambles
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1908_British_Lions_tour_to_New_Zealand_and_Australia
Daily News (London), June 8 1908, p2, and New Zealand Times, June 8 1908, p5.
New Zealand Times, June 6 1908, p5.
Lyttleton Times (NZ), May 28 1908, p7; Otago Witness, July 20 1908, p62.
Evening Post (NZ), June 13 1908, p2.
Colonist, June 20 1908, p2; New Zealand Observer, July 4 1908, p7; Otago Witness, August 5 1908, p31; New Zealand Truth, August 29 1908, p3; Observer (NZ), August 29 1908, p10. Jackett knew rather a lot about saving men at sea: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/06/29/in-search-of-john-jackett-king-of-cornish-sport-part-one/
Oamaru Mail, July 24 1908, p4; Observer (NZ), August 1 1908, p3.
New Zealand Truth, July 11 1908, p3.
Feilding Star, June 27 1908, p2.
Tom Mather, Rugby’s Greatest Mystery: Who Really Was F. S. Jackson?, London League Publications, 2012.
Leicester Daily Mercury, August 15 1908. p5.
Evening Star (NZ), January 13 1908, p8.
For more on Nicholls, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gwyn_Nicholls
For more on Stoop, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adrian_Stoop
Image from: https://www.tate-images.com/preview.asp?item=MB8807&itemw=4&itemf=0001&itemstep=1&itemx=28
Jackett probably knew Fry through Henry Scott Tuke; the artist was friends with the eminent cricketer. See In Search of John Jackett, Part One: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/06/29/in-search-of-john-jackett-king-of-cornish-sport-part-one/. The two sportsmen had much in common. Fry was a driven, multi-talented crack (England cricket captain, FA Cup Finalist, long-jump specialist) who also worked as a nude model in times of financial stress. His Magazine is a high Edwardian cultural touchstone on matters such as sports, games, gentlemanly pastimes and even childrens’ toys. See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C._B._Fry
Jackett’s safe catching is noted in Athletic Chat, March 10 1909, p11. Going further back, it’s also observed in Lake’s Falmouth Packet, March 3 1897, p3. See Part Three, https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/13/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-three-a-modern-bartram/
Dewsbury RLFC official history (chapter 6); https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewsbury_Rams
Yorkshire Post, December 26 1912, p3.
Hull Daily News, December 23 1912, p6.
West Briton, January 15 1914, p3.
Yorkshire Evening Post, September 27 1913, p5. Courtesy Mark Warren, Camborne RFC.
Athletic News, March 4 1912, p6. Dewsbury had enjoyed an easy win in Round One over Lane End Utd. Yorkshire Post, February 19 1912, p4.
For more on Launce, and other Cornishmen who joined the NU, see my post on the subject here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Yorkshire Post, March 25 1912, p3.
Yorkshire Post, April 15 1912, p4.
Star Green ‘un, April 27 1912, p5; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewsbury_Rams
Image from: http://www.arthurlloyd.co.uk/DewsburyTheatres.htm
Yorkshire Evening Post (p8), and Hull Daily Mail (p2), December 8 1912.
Yorkshire Post, March 7 1914, p16; Yorkshire Evening News, March 14 1914, p5.
Jackett’s increasing theatrical involvement is noted in the Yorkshire Evening Post, November 21 1914, p4. That he played against Carter is noted in the Rochdale Observer, April 4 1914.
For more on how Carter came to join the NU, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Yorkshire Evening Post, January 16 1915, p6; Hull Daily Mail, February 10 1915.
Leeds Mercury, February 14 1931, p5.
From Jackett’s obituary: Leicester Evening Mail, November 13 1935, p6.
See: https://www.lionsrugby.com/2010/01/25/the-lions-down-under-1908/
For more on Holliday, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Holliday_(rugby), and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cumbria_Rugby_Union
Leeds Mercury, November 13 1935, p13.

In Search of John Jackett, Part Three: A Modern Bartram

(If you missed Part Two, click HERE…)

Reading time: 35 minutes

…this is a matter for the county committee to sift!

~ the rugby pundit ‘Impartial’ notes the suspicion surrounding Jackett’s appearance for Penzance RFC in 1898

…the admirable performance of Jackett – reared in our own “nursery”, remember – against the conquering Colonials comes as a crowning point…

~ Jackett’s impressive England debut against the formidable 1905 All Blacks proves that rugby in Cornwall, and especially Falmouth, is a force to be reckoned with¹

The story of Teddy Bartram

Christopher Edward ‘Teddy’ Bartram, 1857-1927²

In the late 1870s and 1880s, Teddy Bartram was a centre threequarter of breathtaking ability. He also knew what his talent was worth to any club he cared to join. He left York because they wouldn’t pay his rail fare from Harrogate, and was soon recruited by Wakefield Trinity. They would pay his train fare, and quietly slip him a few bob on the side too. That was fine with Teddy. He helped Wakefield to win consecutive Yorkshire Cups in 1879 and 1880.

Responding to mutterings about Wakefield having a ‘paid man’ in their ranks, in 1879 the Yorkshire County Football Club introduced the very first rules against professionalism in the game. A player could be reasonably reimbursed for travel expenses, but anything beyond that was verboten.

Wakefield’s response was to dream up a job for Teddy: that of the club’s assistant secretary, with a salary of £52/annum (giving him a labour earning of around £29K/annum in 2022³). This thinly disguised sinecure lasted Teddy until 1889, when he received a life ban from football for receiving loans from his club. Despite his skill, Teddy was never picked for England. Down south, they didn’t like the cut of his professional jib.

Thus began the long and bitter saga that, in 1895, resulted in twenty-one northern clubs breaking away from the amateur RFU to form the Northern Union. The NU would pay players’ expenses, as well as payments for ‘broken time’, ie. for loss of earnings on account of missing work to play for their club.

That’s the story of Teddy Bartram⁴.

Quidnunc

Falmouth RFC, 1897-8. A willowy John Jackett is standing centre⁵

The 2022-23 season marked the 150th anniversary of Falmouth RFC. As the exact date of its founding in 1873 has been lost to history, the club decided to launch their celebrations on the birthday, in July 1878, of John Jackett. He was noted for being

One of the club’s greatest successes from the early 20th century…

Falmouth RFC website⁶

The birth of rugby in Falmouth and the birth of John Jackett, you might argue, are inextricably linked. He, and indeed the Jackett family, are rightly revered by the club. All his brothers played, and his father Thomas Jackett was prominent on the committee.

Falmouth RFC, 1921-22. Thomas Jackett stands, head turned, in the back row. John’s brother Fred is in the middle row, fourth from left. Image courtesy Danny Trick, Falmouth RFC

Every now and then, a precious piece of John Jackett memorabilia is unearthed at the Falmouth clubhouse, such as his 1908 British Lions cap:

However, apart from occasional guest appearances for the Falmouth XV⁷, his playing years for Falmouth Chiefs (as opposed to Falmouth One and All, a junior ‘feeder’ team for the senior club), only spanned from 1897 to 1905.

Furthermore, during this period Jackett also signed with, and represented Penzance, Devonport Albion and Plymouth, before finally committing to Leicester. He may have even guested for Penryn, such practices being common at the time⁸.

He was first selected for Cornwall whilst a Penzance player, and was picked for England and the 1908 Lions as a Leicester man.

For the Falmouth faithful though, by and large he could do no wrong. From one of his earliest appearances in 1896 for the One and All XV, the local rugby pundit ‘Quidnunc’ (an archaic term for an inquisitive, gossipy person) was already tipping him for bright things⁹.

A year later, and now full-back for Falmouth Chiefs (he wasn’t yet twenty), Quidnunc observed that the youngster’s play was

…superior…his huge punts to touch being, as usual, quite a feature of the game.

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, December 4 1897. p5

It’s tempting to don the rose-tinted spectacles and assume that, as he is recalled so fondly now by the club, that Jackett was always a popular figure. Maybe he was. But one suspects that, while his play won many games and earned him much plaudits, there may have been many clubmen whose life he made difficult.

Who’s he playing for this season? What are his plans? Who knows? Who do we pick now he’s gone? Who are we going to drop now he’s back? How long is he going to be back? How do we keep him here?

One could draw a parallel here with Jackett’s contemporary and Cornwall team-mate from Redruth, Bert Solomon. Solomon is feted now as one of Cornwall’s greatest players, a centre of elusive, ghost-like running ability. Yet how many Redruth committee men must have cursed him blind when, on match-day, he was once more nowhere to be found, and they had to shrug on their overcoats yet again to beg him to leave his bleddy pigeons alone and come and play rugby?¹⁰

Bert Solomon (1885-1961) – and he only chose to wear the England jersey once…¹¹

The question we have to ask is, why did John Jackett switch clubs so often?

The Magpies

A pre-1900 photo of Penzance RFC. I particularly appreciate the skull-and-crossbones motif on the jersey of the gentleman seated third from left¹²

Jackett seemed to arrive at Falmouth RFC as the complete package, and his impact on their Chiefs cannot be underestimated.

In March 1897 Falmouth recorded a notable 13-0 victory over Redruth. ‘The Bounder’, Cornish Echo‘s rugby columnist (Cornish sportswriters loved a pseudonym) noted that, even though Falmouth’s young full-back had an off-day,

…his tackling was sure and his huge punts were always of considerable advantage.

March 19 1897, p8

Jackett’s B-game is already up to the level of many a 15’s best efforts.

So he could tackle. He had a massive kick – and it must have genuinely been a whopper, so often is this facet of his game remarked upon. One wonders how many yards he would have made given a lighter, more aerodynamic modern ball to hoof.

A leather rugby ball from 1900. Try walloping *that* fifty yards after it’s absorbed mud and rain for an hour…¹³

He was secure under the high ball too, Quidnunc noting that he was a

…very safe custodian…

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, March 3 1897, p5

…when dealing with any proto-Garryowens.

Jackett was fast, and he was very fit. A preview of the 1898 season observed that he

should be in good form as a result of his cycle training…

Lake’s Falmout Packet, September 3 1898, p5

As we saw previously¹⁴, Jackett trained hard for his cycling, and he was equally noted for being

…always in strict training…

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, November 11 1899, p5

…where rugby was concerned. One of his kicking drills was to place buckets along the touchline of the Falmouth pitch and, from the other half, aim his punts at them¹⁵. In an amateur sport, Jackett’s dedication was worthy of a professional.

The long hours of practice bore fruit too in his goal-kicking. When he started, a try only counted to your score if it was converted, or ‘majorised’ as the term was then. Additionally, field-goals (kicking the ball over the posts during open play) were permitted until 1905. Jackett’s prowess in this area was noted in the Press as often as his kicking, catching and tackling¹⁶.

Jackett had another aspect to his game. Attacking flair.

The “proper Cornish game”, wrote the journalist Jerry Clarke in 1970s, is one

…in which threequarters are mere spectators.

The Packet, March 23 1978

If Cornish rugby is forward-focused, then Rugby Union in general in the 1890s was undeniably dominated by the big men with their scrimmaging and dribbling.

But not all of it:

Jackett was responsible for the opening, running from half-way and passing to a threequarter, who ran over with a try, Jackett goaling amidst a scene of great excitement.

Lake’s Falmouth Packett, March 12 1898, p8

Last in defence, first in attack. Jackett had the 15’s complete game.

He was one hell of a player. He knew it, and Falmouth knew it. So did other XVs.

Long before they joined forces with Newlyn RFC, and even longer before they became the Cornish Pirates, Penzance RFC were known as The Magpies. They lived up to their name in the autumn of 1898.

There were “howls of disapproval” from the Penryn faithful as the Penzance XV took to the pitch, with a known Falmouth player on their team. The howls must have turned to screams of outrage at full time, when The Borough went down by one goal and one try to two tries.

They’d crossed Penzance’s line twice, but failed to majorise their efforts. Penzance, by contrast, had a decent kicker on the field, and his goal won them the game¹⁷.

The kicker was John Jackett. Here we might add another couple of strings to his rugby bow: an ability to stay out of trouble, and to remain calm under pressure. The Penryn crowd repeatedly exhorted their players to stick one on him or worse, but to no avail. He was too cute for that¹⁸.

He’d quit Falmouth at the end of September, offering no reason. However, it’s suggested that criticism for a poor early-season showing against Plymouth’s Keyham College was the explanation for his sudden departure¹⁹.

If true, Jackett can’t have had a very thick skin, and he didn’t use the brickbats’ words constructively. As we shall see, later in his career he again demonstrated that his knee-jerk reaction to any denunciations of his play was to pack his bag and try his luck elsewhere.

Rumours circulated as to who he’d join. Redruth counted themselves among the hopefuls²⁰, but it was The Magpies that poached the rising star. How?

Jackett seems to have found, or been offered a job in Penzance²¹. What exactly this was is unknown, but some had their suspicions:

…he has to work hard enough when he plays on one or two occasions per week for the Penzance team, and if had to work the rest of the week it would kill him in a very short time; but I think you can depend on it he isn’t going to do that…

Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 28 1898, p5

In other words, Jackett’s ‘job’ probably didn’t involve much actual work. We can add to this assertion some bitter demands from Penryn that his appearance for Penzance was

…a matter for the county committee to sift!

Cornishman, October 6 1898, p2

Then there’s the courtroom testimony of Caroline Over’s mother²². She claimed that Jackett told her he made money “footballing”, but at Penzance

…she did not know how much he earned.

Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 14 1901, p3

Rugby players were often lampooned for the benefits they gained from an allegedly ‘amateur’ game²³

Of course, it was against the RFU’s strict amateur codes for any player to be paid to play the game, but the inference is that Jackett did indeed quietly receive some boot money to go to Penzance.

His father played sport – yachting – for cash. Jackett himself cycled competitively for trophies or prizes²⁴.

Why should playing rugby be any different? Although Jackett didn’t exactly have a working-class background, it had long been common practice for the working classes to play sport, or team games, for rewards²⁵. And rugby, in Cornwall at least, had evolved into a working-class game.

Whatever the truth behind his brief dalliance with Penzance, by November 1898 Jackett had returned to Falmouth. He helped them beat Camborne²⁶.

Maybe he’d made a point.

On the Waterfront

Raphael Jago (1882-1941). A team-mate of Jackett for Falmouth, Cornwall and England who joined Devonport Albion in 1902. He also played for Devon, claiming to have been born there. In fact he was born in Dorset²⁷. Image courtesy Danny Trick, Falmouth RFC

Of far greater controversy was Jackett’s signing for the powerful Devonport Albion club in late 1900. Albion had a reputation for luring talent away from their native clubs, it apparently being common knowledge in Wales that

Any good footballer can secure a berth in the Devonport Dockyard…One of the Swansea forwards was offered…£100 a year…and would consent to play for the Albion club…he need not be too clever at his work so long as he played good football.

Qtd in Lake’s Falmouth Packet, December 8 1900, p8

Albion weren’t the only ones. Poaching was known to be

…rife in Devon…

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 13 1900, p5

By October 1900 John Jackett was white-hot. His poor showing against Keyham College in 1898 was avenged, with

…his running, fielding and kicking being faultless. He played with excellent judgement…

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 13 1900, p5

Falmouth began to play him at 10, with predictable results against Camborne. A cross-kick (or was it a kick-pass?) put his wing in for a try, and then Jackett broke through on a mazy run to set his outsides up for another²⁸.

What a player. What an asset. Devonport had already acquired Falmouth’s skipper, Syd Skinner, and now they made a bid for the star player. An attempt to “induce” Jackett was made, but his

…decision to stand by his old team has given great satisfaction.

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 20 1900, p8

Not for long. Albion reached out to Jackett with another ‘inducement’, and there was uproar in Falmouth when he left. There were calls for the RFU to launch an enquiry, and for a change to the codes:

Better to have recognised professionalism than unfair work of this kind.

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 20 1900, p4

An incensed Falmouth RFC took their grievance to the Cornwall RFU. Messrs. Prior, Miller and Lake strode into the committee room of their sport’s governing body.

For all their high talk about the depletion of smaller clubs hastening the death of Cornish rugby, the CRFU were hamstrung. Falmouth had no hard evidence of Jackett (or Skinner) receiving money to play.

They might have claimed that Skinner was losing days at his actual job by travelling to play in Devon, and that the Albion were surely recompensing him. Or they could assert Jackett had uttered something like

…he was going to the Devonport Albions to see what they could do for him…

Cornish Echo, December 7 1900, p8

…but to no avail. Not even one strongly-worded letter left Cornwall bound for Devonport. Falmouth were left to seethe.

Jackett would later state that he was only legitimately paid travel expenses, and nothing else²⁹. The RFU belatedly caught up with Devonport Albion in 1912. During the aftermath of the abortive Westcountry Northern Union movement, they suspended practically all of Devonport’s 1st XV for breaches of anti-professionalism laws.

One of the players was Jackett’s old team-mate from Falmouth – Raphael Jago³⁰.

Several prominent clubs in Cornwall and Devon nearly went over to the Northern Union in 1912. Headline from the *Western Daily Mercury*, September 28 1912, p4

By May 1901 however, Jackett had left Devonport, and England, for South Africa. He was back by June 1902³¹.

Before the start of the 1902-3 season, Falmouth acted quickly to secure his services. In August they appointed him club secretary,

…to which he will be able to devote the necessary time to ensure the smooth workings of the club’s affairs.

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, August 23 1902, p4

This meant he would be playing for them too. Making a key player a secretary was a “common way”, one historian states, for the said player

…to be paid for playing while retaining their amateur status.

Tony Collins, A Social History of English Rugby Union, Routledge, 2009, p26

If this was Falmouth’s ploy to keep Jackett to themselves, it didn’t last. By September 1903, “rumour” was “rife” as to his intentions³².

And the rumours proved correct. Jackett signed for Plymouth RFC, who then went on to beat Falmouth that season at South-Devon Place. A Jackett cross-kick (which must have been a feature of his game) set up one of the home XV’s three tries³³.

South Devon Place (now Astor Park) in the early 1900s. Plymouth RFC’s mounting debt indirectly led to the Westcountry Northern Union movement of 1912³⁴

He returned to Falmouth for the start of the 1904-5 season. The club elected him skipper; clearly they weren’t going to make him secretary again. But by January 1905, Jackett had joined Leicester³⁵.

However, it was while playing for Falmouth in 1904 that John Jackett was named as Cornwall’s Captain…³⁶

1908 and all that

On their way to make history…the Cornwall XV leave Tabbs Hotel in Redruth to play Durham in the County Championship Final, March 28, 1908. Image courtesy Mr John Jackett, Falmouth

There’s no other way to put it. Cornwall’s rugby team were crap. They’d first entered the South Western Division (joining Devon, Somerset and Gloucestershire) of the County Championship in the 1892-3 season, and for some years following had been the region’s whipping boys.

From that inaugural year up to the start of the 1900-01 season, they’d played 23 matches…and lost each one³⁷.

Cornwall’s first Championship XV, 1892. From the CRFU website

In the press, resignation was prevalent. Before the 1893-4 fixture against Devon, ‘Spectator’ had already thrown in the towel:

Victory will undoubtedly rest with the Devonians…

Cornish Post and Mining News, November 24 1893, p3

Spectator was correct. At Exeter, Devon stuffed Cornwall 38-3, majorising four of an eyewatering six tries³⁸.

That said, Cornwall were in a tough draw. After the formation of the Northern Union in 1895 had broken the dominance of the Lancashire and Yorkshire XVs, Rugby Union’s power-base switched to the West Country. In the years John Jackett played for Cornwall (52 times from 1898-1911), Devon won the Championship in 1899, 1901, 1906 and 1911. Gloucestershire won in 1910³⁹.

Cornish insularity, hostility to the CRFU and inter-club rivalry were contributory factors to Cornwall’s poor showings too.

On the eve of the Devon match mentioned above, two Penzance players were named in the line-up⁴⁰. In the event, the club withdrew their players’ services in protest at the CRFU’s decision to move the venue of the forthcoming fixture against Gloucestershire from Penzance to Redruth, their committee arguing that

…the removal has been done improperly and illegally.

Cornish Telegraph, November 30 1893, p5

Although 1897’s campaign was another whitewash, the journalist ‘Impartial’ (who was anything but) saw a glimmer of hope – and an opportunity to have a sly dig at Devonport Albion. Cornwall had

…shewn a bolder front to their opponents. With a few big industries (a dockyard for instance) we shall be able to cope with the adjacent shires…

Cornishman, April 21 1898, p6

Was it time to be bolder? Blood some youth? What did Cornwall have to lose?

By October 1898, John Jackett was a Cornwall player⁴¹. The upturn in the side’s fortunes was far from immediate. Cornwall only registered their maiden Championship victory, against Somerset in the 1900-01 season. 3,000 in Redruth witnessed the two tries to nil win. Jackett played a prominent role:

…the Falmouthian did all that was required of him in a style unequalled by any custodian turned out by Cornwall…Jackett…came out of the ordeal with flying colours.

‘Touch’, Cornish Telegraph, November 14 1900, p8

(Also playing well that day was a young fly-half from Redruth, James ‘Maffer’ Davey.)

This victory however was a false dawn. Cornwall didn’t win another Championship fixture until the 1904-5 round, when they beat Gloucestershire 18-9 in Bristol⁴².

It was Jackett’s first game as captain. It was also the beginning of a new era for Cornish rugby. Belief. Flair. Success.

And it was John Jackett who threw down the gauntlet. Here’s his opening statement – at 10 – in that match. There was

…a sensational incident, for from the first scrimmage J. Jackett slipped past Butcher and found a clear field in front of him, save for the full back. On reaching the latter, he punted, and then ensued a foot race for the line…

‘The Bounder’, Cornish Echo, November 4 1904, p2

It didn’t, alas, result in a try, but Gloucestershire were stunned. Cornish XVs didn’t normally play with such gay abandon. Jackett gave his men confidence, coupled with a fast, open game plan based on what he’d seen at Devonport Albion and would shortly experience with Leicester. This is how it’s going to be.

With handling “worthy of a first-class Welsh team”⁴³, Cornwall were easy winners, Jackett kicking the crucial three goals which bested the home XV’s three tries.

He’d been given the tools for the job too. The CRFU had picked a team based

…on form, instead of reputation…

‘The Bounder’, Cornish Echo, November 4 1904, p2

And four of those form-horses that day would be with Jackett in 1908: his brother Dick, the wing Barrie Bennetts (Penzance and Richmond), and two more forwards, Nick Tregurtha of St Ives and John G. Milton of Camborne School of Mines. (Bennetts and Milton would also win international honours⁴⁴.)

They went on to beat Somerset, but came unstuck against Devon. Jackett, maybe not a natural 10, was criticised in both games for demonstrating the fly-half’s cardinal sin: greed⁴⁵.

Cornwall reached the playoffs, did the double over Somerset, but once more Devon proved the stumbling block. Jackett’s men had failed to win the South West Division, but Cornwall had notched up their most successful Championship to date⁴⁶.

They were no longer the South West’s makeweights. They were competitors. But it was Devon, always Devon, that thwarted them. In 1905-6 they lost 19-0 in Devonport; in 1906-7 they were on the wrong side of an agonisingly tight 8-6 scoreline at Camborne⁴⁷.

Cornwall had never beaten Devon in the Championship. If they wanted to progress, they would have to overcome one of the strongest XVs in the whole Championship.

The 1907-8 campaign started well. Somerset were hammered 25-6 in the opener at Taunton. Jackett by now had reverted to 15, with cross-kicks that held The Cidermen back. A youngster from Redruth, Bert Solomon, was a constant threat in the centre. Also, a Leicester team-mate of Jackett, as big and physical as brother Dick, who claimed he was Cornish and said his name was Fred Jackson, kicked five goals (more on him to come)⁴⁸.

But then it unravelled in Plymouth against their old nemesis, Devon, who won 17-8 in atrocious conditions. Their pack dominated, which gave the Devonians’ scrum-half, Raphael Jago, an open invitation to make a real menace of himself. Starved of decent possession, Maffer Davey, recently returned from the Transvaal⁴⁹, had a game to forget at 10. Bert Solomon’s partner at centre failed to create space for the wunderkind to work his magic.

Jackett was one of the few to finish the game with any credit. Cornwall were gutted. Not another season as bridesmaids.

There was a glimmer of hope: if Somerset lost to Devon, and The Pasties beat Gloucestershire, the latter three XVs would have to meet again to determine the South West’s champion⁵⁰.

In a roundabout way, it was at this point that Cornwall’s luck began to change. A frozen Redruth pitch postponed the Gloucestershire fixture. Gloucestershire appealed to the RFU, arguing that, as Cornwall had failed to protect their pitch, they (Gloucestershire) ought to be given home advantage for the rearrangement.

They weren’t, and the postponement meant that Jackett, at first doubtful, could make the rearranged date. On Saturday January 25 1908, a crowd of 5,000 in Redruth watched Cornwall hand the reluctant visitors a 34-10 beating⁵¹.

To the playoffs. Devon were coming to Redruth.

It’s one of those fixtures where you wish you had been there with the other 6,000 fans to watch, or at least be lucky enough to stumble across some archive footage of the match at Kresen Kernow. For Cornwall finally realised

…the ambition of years – to thrash Devon…

West Briton, February 17 1908, p3

Jackett, as was his wont on winning the toss, elected to play uphill in the first half: let them come at us, then we’ll have a crack later on. His display overall was described as “faultless”. Fred Jackson’s kicking saw him carried off the field by a delirious mob. Maffer Davey was a general at 10. And yes, Bert Solomon scored that try:

He feinted to send Bennetts in, and the latter was so perfectly deceived that he actually proceeded to dive for the line…Solomon then with a clear course coolly romped over…

West Briton, February 17 1908, p3

Cornwall 21, Devon 3. No longer world-weary harbingers of doom, the Press were talking up the Cornishmen as likely winners of the whole Championship. What of Gloucestershire, next victims in the playoffs?

…[they] will have to show a vast improvement on their form of a fortnight ago to make even a draw of it.

West Briton, February 17 1908, p3

And what of Middlesex, potential opponents in the semi-final? They were dismissed as mere

…Varsity men and public school boys, who will probably crack up when opposed to the hurricane tactics of the Cornishmen…

West Briton, February 17 1908, p3

Not only were Cornwall going to win, they were going to rough up some toffs. The Cornish rugby identity was already resolutely working class – and proud of it.

Gloucestershire lost at home 15-3, giving Cornwall the South West Division⁵². The CRFU won the toss to decide the venue of the semi against Middlesex. Cornwall would have home advantage. The burning issue was, which club would have the honour of hosting? The CRFU’s Hon. Secretary, W. Dennis Lawry (a Penzance man), proposed Redruth.

A Falmouth representative proposed his own club, stating

…Redruth had had its share.

Cornishman, February 27 1908, p4

Falmouth threatened to boycott the CRFU when their proposal was dismissed. Redruth’s representative, William Hichens⁵³, played the martyr. Getting the ground ready for such a big fixture was a “great amount of work”, but

…they should do everything for the team…He would sink his own feelings and take on the work again.

Cornishman, February 27 1908, p4

Furthermore, John Jackett

…had said that he knew every inch of the [Redruth] ground, and that was a very important thing…

Cornishman, February 27 1908, p4

Redruth’s slope fitted his gameplan.

Camborne grumbled too, and expected to host the Final – nobody seemed to doubt Cornwall would make it. But for now, Middlesex would come to Redruth. Hichens made a show of rolling his sleeves up…and doubtless afforded himself a smug grin in private⁵⁴.

Jackett won the toss, and made his team play uphill first. After a tight initial forty, it was a try apiece. However,

Gradually the homesters wore down the visitors…

Cornish Echo, March 13 1908, p8

John Milton, a South African-born, six-foot, 15-stone beast of a forward, took two Middlesex men with him over the line. Shortly after, swift passing ignited by Maffer Davey put Bennetts in on the wing. Another try in the closing minutes was the coup de grace.

Cornwall 19, Middlesex 3. It might have been closer, were it not for John Jackett. He was judged

…a tower of strength…he saved his side as no other full back in England could possibly do…

Cornish Echo, March 3 1908, p8

This set up the Final, against Durham.

The Cornwall XV that faced Durham. The players first. Back row, l to r: Barrie Bennetts (Devonport Albion), A J Wilson (Camborne School of Mines), Fred Jackson (Leicester), John G Milton (Camborne School of Mines), Nick Tregurtha (St Ives), A J Thomas (Devonport Albion). Seated, l to r: A Lawry (Redruth), Dick Jackett (Falmouth), John Jackett (Leicester), F Dean (Devonport Albion), Bert Solomon (Redruth). Ground, l to r: R Davey (Redruth), J Jose (Devonport Albion), T G ‘Chicky’ Wedge (St Ives), James ‘Maffer’ Davey (Redruth). CRFU Committee, l to r: Gil Evans, W Dennis Lawry, R C Lawry, J H Williams, C F Hopley, J Quick, F W Thomas, W Hichens, H Skewes. From the CRFU website

Cornwall’s XV for the Final contained seven men who had been, or would shortly be awarded, international honours. It also contained four from Devonport Albion, which amply demonstrates how ‘attractive’ a club it must have been. Wing Barrie Bennetts, scrum half Tommy Wedge and Bert Solomon all represented England. John Jackett, Maffer Davey and John Milton all played for England and toured with the British Lions. Fred Jackson, though not capped by England, went on the same 1908 Lions Tour as Jackett and Davey⁵⁵.

Additionally, Dick Jackett had been an international trialist, and is reckoned to be the best player never to win recognition by England⁵⁶.

This is surely the greatest Cornwall XV. It needed to be. Durham boasted six internationals themselves, and ‘The Monkey Hangers’, as they were known, had been County Champions in 1900, 1902, 1903 and 1905 (they shared the title with Devon in 1907)⁵⁷.

This was the game of the season. The two best sides in the land. Today’s equivalent would be the Gallagher Premiership Final.

As with the Middlesex match, Cornwall had drawn home advantage. Predictably, within the CRFU debate raged as to which club would host the great occasion.

Charles Bryant, of Camborne RFC, proposed his ground. Improvements had been made to the facilities, and besides,

To have four matches at Redruth and none at Camborne is not a fair nor a proper thing.

Cornubian and Redruth Times, March 19 1908, p3

Clearly Bryant couldn’t give a tinker’s damn about the hopes or merits any other rugby club in Cornwall had of being hosts. William Hichens stamped all over his proposal. Gone was his feigned reluctance to preside over yet another county match:

They [Camborne] did nothing until they saw everything was going successfully at Redruth…such a puerile argument…

Cornubian and Redruth Times, March 19 1908, p3

Hichens claimed to have the players’ interests at heart, but Bryant was far from pacified:

You take it we shall not continue members of this Union if you have all the matches at Redruth…

Cornubian and Redruth Times, March 19 1908, p3

This was not the last time Bryant and Hichens locked horns, nor the last time Camborne threatened to quit the CRFU⁵⁸.

Ultimately, Hichens and the team’s sentiments held sway. Jackett had been approached on whether the venue ought to be changed for the Final. His response was succinct:

Certainly not…

Cornubian and Redruth Times, March 19 1908, p3

Redruth it was. The West Briton‘s big game preview ran profiles of the Cornwall XV. Here’s what ‘The Celt’ said of John Jackett:

He is perhaps the soundest full-back that has represented England in recent years for he possesses great kicking power, fine judgment, and is a deadly tackler…

March 26 1908, p3

This match would be the pinnacle of his four years as leader of Cornwall. He’d taken them from tournament also-rans to being one victory away from the accolade of The Best in the Land. Yes, he’d played for England. Yes, he’d led his Cornish XV against the All Blacks and the Springboks (which will be discussed in due course). He was doing great things at Leicester.

But in a few months, John Jackett would be thirty. Not the young gun anymore. There surely wouldn’t be many more chances, if any, to lead Cornwall in a Cup Final, to win some silverware. To be the first.

He must have wanted it badly.

So did his team. So did the 17,000 spectators shoehorned into hastily-erected stands in Redruth, easily the club’s biggest gate until the 1969 Final. Then, an estimated 23-25,000 were packed in to watch Lancashire win 12-9. As we have seen, county matches regularly drew crowds of between 3-6,000, but this was off the scale⁵⁹.

Not that they were all there to cheer on Cornwall. A member of the Durham contingent displayed their mascot – a lynched toy monkey – on a very visible gallows: the crossbar of one of the goalposts.

For balance, a pasty in a paper bag was strung up on the ‘posts at the opposite end of the pitch. The ground was firm, which suited Cornwall’s fast play.

The reporters present (and here we can imagine ‘Impartial’, ‘The Bounder’, ‘Quidnunc’ et al) suffered the indignity of having some railings crash on them, suspending play for a time. Finally, all was ready.

Durham had won the toss, and elected to start downhill. Jackett gave his best poker face. Fine with us, boy.

From the get-go, he was on it. Cornwall’s tactics – indeed, Jackett’s own – were to absorb pressure in the first half and catch their opponents on the break. It required balls of steel, and a full back up to the task.

That was Jackett. His trademark (said trademark being a great distance) kicks relieved the pressure. His tackles kept Durham honest, and their scoreboard quiet. Rushes were stopped. Dribbles cleared up. And, when the opportunity came, the flair men were waiting. Durham cleared messily, and Bennetts pounced, putting Solomon in for a try. Jackson failed to majorise.

More pressure from Durham. More last-ditch efforts from Jackett. Another Durham attack – and Solomon intercepted, drew the 15, and put in Bennetts for a second try. Jackson walloped over the conversion.

Excitement was mounting. Is it our day?

Jackett was punishing Durham, his kicks covering half the pitch. Time and again the visitors’ heavy forwards had to turn and trudge back up the slope after another Jackett bomb had sailed over their heads.

Half time. Cornwall led by a goal and a try to one penalty.

The second half followed the first, except Durham were now playing against the gradient, and had to chase the game. Jackett by now was torturing the Monkey Hangers, his punts keeping them exclusively in their own 25.

And then it happened.

Solomon broke from a Davey pass, with Bennetts outside him. In a similar situation, previously Solomon had passed to his wing, but not this time. The dummy. The swerve. The acceleration. The uproar in Redruth as Solomon ghosted over the line, a brace of Durham defenders trying in vain to halt a phantom. A photographer was on hand to immortalise the event.

In that instant, Durham knew the game was gone⁶¹

Although Nick Tregurtha bagged another try late on, Solomon’s score put the result beyond doubt. Durham had barely got to the half-way line in the second half – thanks to John Jackett.

Cornwall 17, Durham 3. History had been made. Jackett was more than aware of his XV’s monumental achievement. In Cornwall, he later said, rugby is

…not of the first class…[teams] are composed mostly of miners and fishermen, and the way they make up their fixture lists is to play each other three or four times a season…So you can well see why Cornwall should always be more or less a weak rugby county…

Yorkshire Evening Post, February 3 1912, p3

As we shall see, in an era when the RFU was consciously trying to eradicate working-class influences from the game, Cornwall’s victory with ‘miners and fishermen’ was a sweet kick in the face of The Establishment. Jackett, in flagging up his players’ backgrounds and the circumstances of Cornish rugby, realised this.

How great this achievement was is borne out by the fact that it would be over eighty years before Cornwall took another Championship.

Fred Jackson might have kicked 38 points in the competition prior to the Final⁶². The Final itself might be remembered as Bert Solomon’s match, and he was indeed the “outstanding star” on the day⁶³.

But John Jackett gave

…an International display…No one knows better than the forwards what an advantage such a sound touch-finder is…Time after time he gained three parts of the field with his kicking…

West Briton, March 30 1908, p4

Add to this his tackling, his nous, his leadership, and you begin to realise that Cornwall could not have done it without him.

If you think this presumptuous of me, in 1909 Cornwall were the Championship Finalists again. Again, their opponents were Durham. This time, however, the venue was Hartlepool.

The 1909 Final in Hartlepool. Note Durham’s mascot⁶⁴

This time, Cornwall lost, 12-0. This time, Jackett played through injury. This time, as a result, his kicking wasn’t up to scratch.

But no matter. At the post-match dinner it was anticipated that the two XVs would line up in next season’s Final, and that Cornwall would win…⁶⁵

A below-par Jackett was also evident when Cornwall played Australia at the White City Stadium in the 1908 London Olympics.

The White City Stadium, 1908. Demolished 1985⁶⁶

The whole tournament was something of a farce. Only two XVs – Cornwall and Australia – entered, with France failing to raise a side. Thus only one match was played. Cornwall lost 32-3, but were guaranteed silver medals.

The Wallabies dominate in London, 1908⁶⁷

Jackett, along with Maffer Davey, had only recently returned from New Zealand with the British Lions. His play, for once,

…was a disappointment and seemed stale…

Cornish Telegraph, October 29 1908, p8

No doubt he was exhausted, and out of condition after weeks spent at sea. Lest we forget, he was Leicester’s star full back too.

You are cordially invited

Leicester RFC, 1904-5. John Jackett is sat in the middle row, third from left. Tom Crumbie is standing far left. The massive trophy is the – now long defunct – Midland Counties Cup⁶⁸

Thanks to the industry – and wallet – of Secretary Tom Crumbie, by the early 1900s Leicester were the biggest club in the Midlands. By 1905, Crumbie had made Leicester a ‘play by invitation only’ club, and managed to procure the cream of rugby talent from all over the country. Think Devonport Albion, minus the dockyard⁶⁹.

Just what these invitations amounted to was an immediate cause of suspicion, the 1908 RFU investigation into Leicester’s activities being the culmination of this ill-feeling. Many Midlands’ clubs were jealous of Leicester’s prestige and ability to attract players. What, they all asked, exactly was the attraction? Many jumped to the cynical conclusion: Leicester’s boys were on the take⁷⁰.

The RFU, however, were always reluctant to take Leicester on:

…should Leicester switch allegiance to the rival code [the Northern Union] as was likely if the Rugby Union moved against them, then it could instigate another split within the game as catastrophic as the 1895 one.

Tom Mather, Rugby’s Greatest Mystery: Who Really Was F. S. Jackson? London League Publications, 2012, p20

Leicester’s suspected recruitment/inducement policies put the RFU in a lose-lose situation. Fail to investigate, and the sport’s governing body lost face and made their laws against professionalism a joke. If they did act, Leicester might very well throw in their lot with the Northern Union, thus further reducing the Union’s homelands in England to the West Country and the Home Counties.

The RFU had recently lost the North. Did it want to risk losing the Midlands too?

A newspaper sketch of Jackett performing some derring-do or other for Leicester. Image courtesy Mr John Jackett, Falmouth

One of the big names Leicester acquired the services of was, of course, John Jackett. The man himself put down some serious roots in Leicester, meeting – and marrying – Sallie Chapman there. We know he played a bit of cricket for Waterhouse Reynolds & Co., a local corset manufacturing business⁷¹.

He also worked, the 1911 census noting he had a job as a cycle agent, possibly with the up-and-coming firm in Leicester, Halford. How demanding an occupation (or indeed, any other form of employment he might have had) was this?

Probably not very. A handsome, charming, well-known member of the big local rugby club could not help but be an asset to a business looking to sell bikes – and Jackett would have had knowledge of the machines too. We could draw a parallel here with the cycling star of the 1940s and 50s, Reg Harris, whose role on the board of any firm was

…to simply serve as a celebrity face of the company whose sheer presence alone would impress potential customers.

Robert Dineen, Reg Harris: The Rise and Fall of Britain’s Greatest Cyclist, Ebury Press, 2013, p264

Similar to Harris, we can be sure that, if Jackett needed time off to play rugby for Leicester, or Cornwall, or England, or nip off to tour New Zealand for several months with the British Lions, there was never an issue.

Another season, another Midland Counties Cup: Leicester, 1908-9. Jackett sits in the front row, second from left⁷²

Besides his Cornish and International commitments, Jackett made over 180 appearances for Leicester, from 1904 to 1911⁷³.

He started as a centre and was prominent in Leicester’s victory over Nottingham to win the Midland Counties Cup in 1905⁷⁴. Quickly, however, Jackett took over at 15, with customary elan:

Never have I seen a more perfect display…

Leicester Journal, November 10 1905, p6

In 1909 Leicester took the Cup again, with Jackett’s touch-finding starving Coventry as much as it did Durham in 1908⁷⁵.

In the 1910 final (a repeat of 1909’s edition), he was being outplayed by his opposite number – “out-Jacketted”, in fact. Leicester were struggling.

But it’s all about having a good scriptwriter. A Jackett field goal drew the scores level. Coventry drew ahead with a penalty. Leicester scored with minutes left to even matters up again. A successful conversion would mean victory, and another trophy. Who do you throw the ball to? Who else?

Jackett kicked it⁷⁶.

His performances for Leicester became as celebrated as his exploits for Falmouth, or Cornwall. Even in the late 1950s he was being compared to the current poor crop of Leicester players as a

…legendary full back…By comparison, the present outfit look like pussy-cats…

Daily Mirror, October 24 1957, p21

Jackett belonged to Leicester as much as he did to Falmouth, or Cornwall. But controversy continued to follow him.

In 1908 the RFU opened investigations into Leicester RFC. Accusations had been made that the club had knowingly signed Northern Union men (thus in turn professionalising themselves and anybody who played a game of rugby union with them), of paying players, and of offering cushy jobs to those they wished to recruit.

One of the Leicester players interviewed by the investigative committee was John Jackett, who was alleged to have

…been obtained by the Leicester club in violation of the professional laws.

RFU statement, Lake’s Falmouth Packet, February 5 1909, p7

There was ample evidence of unaudited accounts, sparse balance sheets, off-the-book expenses and payments for ‘refreshments’, a usefully vague term if ever there was one.

But, somehow, Jackett talked his way out of trouble (there are suggestions that players were told to refund any payments made to them), and so did Leicester. The RFU found no evidence that he, and the other players implicated had been acquired by the club in breach of their laws.

Leicester pretended they hadn’t been aware that the Northern Union players were NU men on signing for them, and the RFU pretended to believe them. Four former NU players, including Jackett’s Cornwall team-mate, Fred Jackson (whose story we shall return to), were suspended. Leicester, for pleading their surely-feigned ignorance, were exonerated.

Rowland Hill, Secretary of the RFU⁷⁷, went on the record as believing that to expel Leicester

…would be to practically break up the union.

Qtd in: A Social History of English Rugby Union, by Tony Collins, Routledge, 2009, p40

Disgusted, the then-President of the RFU, C. A. Crane, resigned in protest⁷⁸.

Another old comrade of Jackett’s, James ‘Maffer’ Davey, was also embroiled in the investigation. His new club, Coventry, were found to have been footing his lavish hotel bills when he was up in the town. Davey was suspended, and never played another game of rugby (Union or otherwise) again⁷⁹.

Even when a Northern Union player, Jackett would still stress that

Any suggestions which are made reflecting upon the amateur bona fides of the club are, you can take it from me, most unjustifiable.

Yorkshire Evening Post, February 3 1912, p3

C. A. Crane might have disagreed.

John Jackett was a brilliant rugby player. So brilliant was he, in fact, that many clubs looked to secure his services by fair means or foul. Jackett himself was probably always amenable to a little extra pocket money, or the offer of an undemanding job.

If you believe this to be speculation on my part, at the time the activities of the big clubs, and Jackett himself, were practically an open secret.

On the eve of his England debut against the 1905 All Blacks, a journalist noted his recent switch to Leicester, recalled the furore with Devonport Albion, and knowingly described him as

Jackett, a modern Bartram…

Evening Mail, December 1 1905, p6

In the final post of In Search of John Jackett, we shall examine the man’s unfulfilled international career, and his time as a Northern Union star. Read all about it here…

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

Excerpts from: Cornishman, October 6 1898, p2, and Lake’s Falmouth Packet, December 8 1905, p5.
Image from: Rugby’s Great Split: Class, Culture and the Origins of Rugby League Football, by Tony Collins, Frank Cass, 1998, p50.
Calculations from: https://www.measuringworth.com/calculators/ukcompare/relativevalue.php
From: Tony Collins, Rugby’s Great Split, p49-51.
From: The First Hundred Years: The Story of Rugby Football in Cornwall, by Tom Salmon, CRFU, 1983, p45.
https://www.falmouthrugbyclub.co.uk/150th-Anniversary. 2022 also saw the inaugural year of the John Jackett Cup, a friendly cricket match played between a Falmouth RFC XI and a Seaview Old Boys XI. See: https://www.falmouthpacket.co.uk/news/20595147.falmouth-rugby-john-jackett-cup-seaview-old-boys/
Though a Leicester player, he turned out for his old club in late 1905. Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 6 1905, p6.
Cornish Echo, April 21 1899, p7. A ‘Jackett’ is listed as playing for Penryn, but as no initial is given, it could have equally been John’s brother Dick.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, November 21 1896, p8.
See: Bert Solomon: A Rugby Phenomenon, by Allen Buckley, Truran, 2007.
Image from: https://cornwallyesteryear.com/cornish-rugby-once-a-way-of-life-by-michael-tangye/
Image from: https://www.pitchero.com/clubs/penzancenewlynrfc/photos/626409/20050760.html
Image from: http://www.rugbyrelics.com/Museum/exhibitions/NR125/03.htm
See: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/06/29/in-search-of-john-jackett-king-of-cornish-sport-part-one/
Tom Salmon, The First Hundred Years, p6.
For example, Lake’s Falmouth Packet, March 12 1898, p8. For a fuller explanation of the convoluted history of Rugby Union scoring, see: https://www.rugbyfootballhistory.com/scoring.htm
Cornishman, October 6 1898, p2.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 8 1898, p5.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 1 1898, p5.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 7 1898, p5.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 21 1898, p5.
See In Search of John Jackett, Part Two: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/06/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-two-the-artists-model-the-coastguards-daughter/
Image from: Tony Collins, Rugby’s Great Split, p119.
See In Search of John Jackett, Part One LINK HERE
From: Tony Collins, Rugby’s Great Split, p32, also p29-66.
Cornishman, December 1 1898, p6.
That Jackett and Jago both took the pitch for Falmouth is noted here: Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 23 1899, p3. In 1902 he was in the Cornwall squad; by late 1903 he was playing for Devon: Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 31 1902, p7; Brixham Western Guardian, November 12 1903, p5. He had joined Devonport Albion for the 1902-3 season: Royal Cornwall Gazette, September 11 1902, p3. So keen was Jago to assert his Devon roots to the Cornish public he wrote to Lake’s Falmouth Packet on the subject: December 9, 1904, p8. He was born in Bridport, Dorset, in 1882 (England and Wales, Civil Registration Birth Index 1837-1915, vol. 5a, p378), and stated as such in the 1911 census. He was a blacksmith by trade.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 20 1900, p8.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 14 1901, p3; See also In Search of John Jackett, Part Two here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/06/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-two-the-artists-model-the-coastguards-daughter/
See my post on the 1912 breakaway movement here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
See In Search of John Jackett, Part Two here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/07/06/in-search-of-john-jackett-part-two-the-artists-model-the-coastguards-daughter/
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, September 5 1903, p4. See also the Cornubian and Redruth Times, September 4 1903, p4.
Western Morning News, September 14 1903, p3.
See my post on the 1912 breakaway movement here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 8 1904, p4; Lake’s Falmouth Packet, January 6 1905 p6, January 20 1905, p6. Jackett’s appointment as Falmouth’s captain was announced in the Cornish Echo, September 23 1904, p2.
Cornish Echo, November 4 1904, p2.
Tom Salmon, The First Hundred Years, p115.
Tom Salmon, The First Hundred Years, p115.
For the full list of winners, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/County_Championship_(rugby_union)
Cornish Post and Mining News, November 24 1893, p3.
He took part in a trial in October; by November, he was making his debut against Devon – as a Penzance player. Cornish Post and Mining News, October 21, p5, and November 3, p5.
For the results, see Tom Salmon, The First Hundred Years, p115.
‘The Bounder’, Cornish Echo, November 4 1904, p2
For more on Barrie Bennetts, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barrie_Bennetts. For more on Milton, see: https://www.bedfordschool.org.uk/head-masters-assembly-values/. For more on Tregurtha, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicholas_Tregurtha
Cornish Echo, November 18 1904, p6; West Briton, November 28 1904, p3.
Cornishman, March 30 1905, p6.
Tom Salmon, The First Hundred Years, p116.
Cornubian and Redruth Times, November 7 1907, p3.
For more on Davey, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Davey_(rugby_union)
Cornish Telegraph, December 12 1907, p3.
The CRFU had to front Gloucestershire’s expenses as a slap on the wrist for neglecting the Redruth pitch – but must have been mighty glad to retain home advantage. Lake’s Falmouth Packet, January 24 1908, p6; Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 30 1908, p7.
West Briton, February 24 1908, p4.
Hichens was formerly President of the CRFU from 1896-1905, and also President of Redruth RFC from 1893-1903. Not renowned for his diplomacy in CRFU meetings, another taste of his style can be seen in an article of mine here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Cornishman, February 27 1908, p4.
For more on Barrie Bennetts, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barrie_Bennetts. For more on Milton, see: https://www.bedfordschool.org.uk/head-masters-assembly-values/. For more on ‘Chicky’ Wedge, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Wedge_(rugby_union). For more on Davey, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Davey_(rugby_union). For more on Solomon, see: Bert Solomon: A Rugby Phenomenon, by Allen Buckley, Truran, 2007. For Fred Jackson’s amazing story, see: Rugby’s Greatest Mystery: Who Really Was F. S. Jackson? by Tom Mather, London League Publications, 2012.
See his obituary in the West Briton, July 28 1960, p4.
For a grisly explanation of the ‘Monkey Hanger’ moniker, see: https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/The-Hanging-of-the-Hartlepool-Monkey/. For a full list of County Champions, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/County_Championship_(rugby_union)
See my post on the subject here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/02/03/the-great-cornish-rugby-split/
Unless otherwise stated, the narrative of the Cornwall-Durham Final is taken from the West Briton, March 30 1908, p4. The information on the 1969 Final is from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/County_Championship_(rugby_union)
Image from: Tom Mather, Rugby’s Greatest Mystery, p26.
Image from: Tom Salmon, The First Hundred Years, p6.
West Briton, March 26 1908, p3.
West Briton, March 30 1908, p4.
Image from: https://worldrugbymuseum.com/from-the-vaults/club-rugby/durham-countys-golden-era
West Briton, March 29 1909, p3. As of 2024, Cornwall have won the Championship in: 1908, 1991, 1999, 2015, 2016, 2019 and 2022. They have been runners-up on eleven occasions. Information from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/County_Championship_(rugby_union)
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_City_Stadium
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rugby_union_at_the_1908_Summer_Olympics
Image from: The Tigers Tale: The Official History of Leicester Football Club 1880-1993, by Stuart Farmer and David Hands, ACL & Polar, 1993, p258.
Stuart Farmer, The Tigers Tale, p19.
Tom Mather, Rugby’s Greatest Mystery, p15-41.
Leicester Daily Post, July 12 1909, p6. Jackett married Sallie in 1909. England & Wales, Civil Registration Marriage Index, 1837-1915, Vol. 7a, p579.
Image from: Stuart Farmer, The Tigers Tale, p263.
Stuart Farmer, The Tigers Tale, p153-4.
Leicester Daily Press, April 3 1905, p6.
Leicester Daily Mercury, April 3 1909, p4.
Leicester Evening Mail, April 4 1910, p4.
For more on Hill, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Rowland_Hill
From: Tony Collins A Social History, p39-42, and Tom Mather, Rugby’s Greatest Mystery, p35-45.
Coventry Herald, October 1 1909, p5.

In Search of John Jackett, Part Two: The Artist’s Model & The Coastguard’s Daughter

(If you missed Part One, click HERE…)

Reading time: 25 minutes

…SHE YIELDED TO HIM…SUCH A BASE DECEIVER…

~ John Jackett becomes the boy that daughters are warned about¹

Life in 1898 and for part of 1899 must have been pretty good for the young John Jackett. In Henry Scott Tuke he had an employer who was more a friend than a boss. Posing as a model in several of Tuke’s paintings earned Jackett extra money, and started gaining him recognition.

Furthermore, the avuncular Tuke appears to have allowed Jackett ample time to compete as a track cyclist and play rugby. As a full-back, his rise through the ranks was rapid, and he had made his debut for Cornwall in November 1898². Doubtless Tuke was a spectator.

In cycling, he was already Cornish Champion over the One Mile, and had won numerous other prizes. At Falmouth in 1899 he took possession of a 60 guinea silver cup (worth around £6,500 today) for winning a prestigious five mile race – but had to return it to the officials at the end of the season³. He had an all-or-nothing racing style that made him a crowd favourite.

He may not have wanted a career in his father’s boatbuilding business, but he was making a decent, if somewhat chancy fist as a sportsman, an occupation at which he worked hard and dedicated countless hours to. He swore off alcohol – though enjoyed the odd cigarette – and was one of the fittest men around. He’d be one of the fittest men around now. He was also one of the best-looking.

Local girls, impressed with Jackett’s achievements – and his looks – would visit his father’s house, ostensibly to admire the burgeoning silverware.

Perhaps inevitably, one girl caught John Jackett’s eye.

Very soon, he was in the Press for all the wrong reasons.

A Very Victorian Melodrama

Breach of promise actions, though not officially abolished until 1970, enjoyed their greatest frequency in law courts during the 1800s. By the time Over v. Jackett appeared at Bodmin Assizes in early 1900, a breach of promise case was, by the standards of the day, a media extravaganza⁵.

*Lovers’ Tryst*, by Richard Borrmeister (1876-1938)⁶

There are several reasons for this Victorian proliferation of breach of promise cases. The majority of actions were initiated by upper working- and lower middle-class women, a social group not normally afforded a voice or platform at that time. (Caroline Over, Jackett’s lover-turned-accuser, vanishes from view at the conclusion of the case⁷.) Indeed, male fears of feminine power in using or exploiting the breach of promise act

…became increasingly shrill as the century wore on.

Ginger S. Frost, Broken Promises, p7

There’s no denying that breach of promise cases were heavily biased in favour of the female plaintiff and therefore, in the view of many males, threatened gender roles. However, it was their ultimate reaffirmation of Victorian society’s hierarchy that sustained their longevity.

Courtship and marriage implied middle-class respectability; to break off that courtship and engagement (to break your promise), was an act of subversion punishable by law. In other words, it was illegal to shun

…the value of companionate marriage and romantic love…

Ginger S. Frost, Broken Promises, p8

Breach of promise cases reinforced Victorian gender roles as well. Men had to take responsibility for their actions, as well as keep their promises. A man’s word is his bond. Women were to be chaste (most of the time), respectable and industrious. They must also, in the prevailing culture of the time, want a husband. If that opportunity was taken away, compensation through the court could be sought.

The 1753 Marriage Act secularised breach of promise cases, allowing for greater publicity. With the newspaper boom of the 1800s, crime coverage grew exponentially, and contributed to a reinforcement of the social order⁸. Crime also sold newsprint, and a breach of promise case had journalists sharpening their pencils with glee.

The Royal Cornwall Gazette ran Over v. Jackett with the following melodramatic headline:

The Cornishman went for the tabloidesque

The Cornish Echo promised its readers a “full and special report” of the events in Falmouth that had superseded

The [Boer] War as a topic of conversation…

February 2 1900, p7

A breach of promise case was a Victorian soap opera. Everyone knew the script, but everyone could wallow in the entertainment (and think themselves lucky it wasn’t them in the dock, having their linen examined).

Prosecuting lawyers would portray the woman as an innocent, pathetic maiden, and the man as a heartless lothario with a capacious wallet. Counsels for the defence would tell juries – and packed public galleries – that the man was a poor, hapless bachelor, and the woman a husband-hunter on the make.

Due to the private nature of courtship, judges would accept circumstantial evidence and hearsay. Analysis of breathless declarations of love, the reports of exchanged gifts and recitations of (very) personal love-letters ensured that

…the trials were very popular as entertainment.

Ginger S. Frost, Promises Broken, p25

Even the postcard industry sought to profit from the salacious nature of breach of promise cases. This is from the early 1900s⁹

Juries were selected from the local populace; packed public galleries would have been familiar with both plaintiff and defendant. Shameless titillation was on the menu.

There would be tears, jeers, laughter, brow-beating barristers and moralising judges. Everybody had their allotted role.

All of which means that, discovering the truth behind the media obfuscation of Caroline Over and John Jackett’s relationship is rather difficult.

The truth, the whole truth…

Caroline Amelia Over was born in 1876, in Mevagissey. In the 1890s the Overs moved to Portscatho, where her father was a coastguard¹⁰. Caroline, described as a

…young woman of respectable and somewhat prepossessing appearance…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

…met Jackett in around early 1897. (Where and exactly when is unknown; it’s mere speculation on my part to assume she was one of the girls who visited the Jackett household to admire the crack cyclist’s trophies.) The two became a couple, visited each others’ homes, and exchanged letters.

In January 1899, they slept together, and Caroline became pregnant. The baby boy, John Jackett Over, sadly died aged three months in December¹¹. Thomas Jackett had advanced Caroline £50 for his grandson’s upkeep.

As regards their relationship, the above is all that can be concluded with anything like 100% reliability. Anything else you may wish to infer depends on whose version of events you trust.

The following letter from Jackett to Caroline was read aloud in court. Jackett (we are told) joined in the gales of laughter from the gallery, but he must have been cringing inside:

…I could live with you all my life, but I fear it could not be done at present…I get no kisses from anyone but you, I don’t know why, but I suppose it is my face that stops them…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

Such missives, including one that allegedly illustrated Jackett’s intentions for them to live in Mevagissey, were taken as gospel by the prosecution that the couple were engaged by 1898.

(Over’s lawyer couldn’t resist the opportunity to upbraid Jackett’s supposedly false modesty as regards his looks, much to the gallery’s hilarity. I wonder if he laughed along with that one.)

Jackett stated that his letters can be interpreted

…as you like…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

And, Jackett went on,

Never in my life…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 1 1900, p8

…had he contemplated marriage. Miss Over must have gotten the wrong end of the stick. As for living in Mevagissey, your honour? Well, that was another misunderstanding. We were planning to visit a relative there.

As Mandy Rice-Davies once said, Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?

Of course, these letters-as-proof-of-engagement were written by Jackett when he was twenty – before his legal coming of age. Any promise of marriage made by an immature Jackett could not be held against him in a court of law.

However, a precedent had existed since the 1880s that stating ‘I will marry you’ again, after coming of age, constituted a new – and legally binding – promise. This new promise was not a mere ratification of the earlier promise¹³.

Caroline Over and her family, if they wanted damages

…for the pain, grief, and disappointment which plaintiff had suffered…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 1 1900, p8

…needed a 21 year-old Jackett to have proposed marriage.

Another sardonic postcard from the early 1900s¹⁴

In July 1899 Caroline wrote to Jackett, inviting him to meet her at Portscatho Regatta. Jackett declined. Undeterred, Caroline appeared at Thomas Jackett’s house with her sister Susan, who seems to have been no friend of John Jackett.

His and Caroline’s relationship had cooled over the past months. Apparently this was the first time Jackett had seen her since she fell pregnant.

Susan Over would later state that she accosted Jackett on the street, as he was returning from a bike ride:

Well, Jackett, the best thing you can do is marry her…

Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 1 1900, p8

We can imagine her standing indignantly, arms folded, onlookers with mouth agape. Her sister, her head bowed in shame over the indisputable evidence of her relations with Jackett. And the man himself, caught off-guard, looking desperately for a way out.

It’s an irresistible image. According to Caroline, Jackett said,

My God, what shall I do. I can’t marry you now, Carrie, but I will do so. Don’t worry…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

By the time of the Portscatho Regatta, Jackett was twenty-one. The Overs had their proof of a mature, legally-binding, promise of marriage.

Jackett denied making the above statement, saying that Susan Over’s attempt at a shotgun wedding in fact elicited the following response from him:

That is the last thing I should do.

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

Indeed, Jackett’s plea rested on the assertion that he had only made a promise of marriage before coming of age. Caroline Over’s testimony pretty much sealed a guilty verdict.

But the hearing went on. Caroline gave the court the impression Jackett was earning well, up to £1 as an artist’s model, and had secured £150 worth of prizes as a cyclist (her lawyer claimed he was a professional racer).

She also stated Jackett made money as a professional rugby player, but more on that to come.

For his part, Jackett either denied or played down these claims. He was an amateur rugby player. He was an amateur cyclist – this was certainly true. He was unsure how much he’d won in prizes. He only got 8s a week with Tuke, something that was scarcely believed, with Tuke being

…an artist of great eminence.

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

Jackett also claimed that he only worked for Tuke seven months in every year; the other five months he was free to do little else but play rugby and cycle.

The Overs wanted a wealthy Jackett, a high-earning pro sportsman and model, who could more readily afford the damages that was surely coming his way. Jackett tried to project an image of himself as a modest live-in servant, who played sport for fun. Doubtless, he’d been briefed on this.

Where does the truth lie? Similarly, Caroline’s father claimed Jackett was a regular visitor to their house. Jackett said he had only visited once or twice. For this last refutation, the judge threatened him with perjury, which may give you an indication as to where the court’s sympathies lay.

Jackett’s lawyer’s final address is surely one of the most callous speeches in legal history. Caroline

…was a girl who was older than the defendant, and who knew what she was doing…provision would have been made for her baby, but happily for the girl that was dead…it was better for her not to marry a lad who was earning eight or nine shillings a week…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

Over’s counsel cut this line of argument to ribbons. Caroline had

…lost what was of more value than money, and unfortunately money was the only thing that could give her any consolation for her loss, and he hoped the damages would be substantial…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

Caroline had lost her fiance, her child, her prospects and her honour. Jackett had ruined her.

Heartstrings successfully tugged, there was only going to be one verdict. Caroline was awarded £150 damages (that’s £15K today), with costs, to be paid by Jackett.

Scoundrel

*Melodrame’*, by Honore’ Daumier (1808-1879)¹⁶

Regardless of whether Jackett was deliberately modest about his income in court, the verdict cleaned him out. Besides, Tuke had already advanced him £50 (£5K today) of his wages to cover the cost of the trial¹⁷.

Allied to this, his reputation must have been shredded. Just recently, he had been the darling of Cornish sport, the coming man. On a bike, it had been written of him that his

…staying powers for a young rider are somewhat remarkable…

Western Morning News, June 20 1898, p6

As regards rugby, the pundit ‘One of the Crowd’ rejoiced

…to see that he [Jackett] has been selected to play for his county. I look forward to his acquitting himself with credit…

Cornish Telegraph, October 27 1898, p4

Not any longer. Now John Jackett was a

…base deceiver…a scoundrel…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

He had led a young girl astray, failed to heed any warnings from his father, and now look at the result¹⁸.

The news travelled far and wide. London’s Cycling magazine picked up the story, with some wag noting that

Miss Over gained her suit, but lost her Jackett.

February 10, 1900, p42. With thanks to Victoria Sutcliffe and Danny Trick of Falmouth RFC for showing me this

People would have looked at him differently. Maybe they avoided him. One shudders to think of the smart-mouth remarks he may have endured in various changing-rooms. The strain must have been immense.

It must be said, though, that John Jackett didn’t exactly cover himself in glory with this particular episode. Put bluntly, it looks like he got a girl pregnant, then abandoned her.

There is also a suggestion that Caroline Over may have been one of many, part of a

…Galaxy of young lady admirers…

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

How many girls, like Caroline, had been taught by Jackett to ride a bicycle¹⁹? As his mother, Emmeline, told Caroline,

Don’t you think he is completely laughing at you?

Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7

Cycling became the perfect excuse for couples to spend time alone²⁰

Jackett’s wife, Sallie (they married in 1909), was more than aware of her husband’s adventurous youth:

Of course John has had 1001 girl friends…[he] had plenty of noes and plenty of yesses…

Qtd. in Henry Scott Tuke 1858-1929: Under Canvas, by David Wainwright and Catherine Dinn, Sarema Press, 1989, p60

To which observation Tuke himself is supposed to have ruefully replied that

…that was the real Johnny I knew…

Qtd. in Henry Scott Tuke 1858-1929: Under Canvas, by David Wainwright and Catherine Dinn, Sarema Press, 1989, p60

The real Johnny Jackett was saddled with debts he couldn’t pay.

So he didn’t pay them.

Cigarette money

From a time when smoking and sport were interlinked. This card is from 1912²¹

Approximately a year later, Jackett was hauled into Falmouth County Court for non-payment of damages²².

Caroline Over was unwell and could not attend, but her mother testified against Jackett. The image she paints is that of a mercenary professional sportsman and braggart:

…when he went footballing at St Austell he had £1 5s a week, but he only looked on that as cigarette money. He looked for more at Plymouth, and she did not know how much he had at Penzance.

Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5

Jackett, Mrs Over claimed, was earning 7s a day for Tuke, had cash in the bank, and could always make himself some extra tin at his father’s boatyard.

Jackett denied all this. He’d never said £1 5s was mere spare change for fags. He was strictly an amateur footballer. He had never played for St Austell (which was true). He had always played for Falmouth (which was untrue; he was currently with Devonport Albion and had also played for Penzance).

Furthermore, he didn’t work with his father, and currently earned only three shillings a week with Tuke – and that for only seven months in the year.

The Overs’ lawyer was flabbergasted – and he probably wasn’t alone:

Mr Dobell: Twenty-two years of age, and three shillings a week (Laughter). These five months how do you manage to keep yourself in cigarette money?

Jackett: Get it from my father…

Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5

Mr Dobell further asserted that Tuke allowed Jackett time to cycle and play rugby, and surely paid him bonuses as a model:

I think I have seen your face and figure represented in a picture?

Jackett: No, sir.

Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5

Doubtless, Mrs Over was exaggerating Jackett’s income. If we are to assume that to be the case, then we must also assume that Jackett was reverting to the role of near-pauper he played in the previous trial.

Unluckily for him, Jackett was over-egging it. His claims to live on 3s/week (albeit with bed and board thrown in) are utterly unbelievable.

To put this into some perspective, in 1889 a miner at Dolcoath could expect to earn £4 a month²³. If, as Jackett claimed, he earned nothing all year except the 3s/week for the seven months Tuke employed him, then his annual income was a mere £4 2s.

If this was an enquiry into allegations that Jackett earned money as a sportsman, then surely something like the following question would have been asked:

What is a top rugby player and champion cyclist living off, given he’s unemployed five months of the year, and earns a pittance the rest of the time?

Who’s paying for his cigarettes?

Fortunately for Jackett, the hearing was only to assess his ability to pay the damages Caroline Over was due. He needed to prove his income was, indeed, as pitiful as he claimed. The more pitiful his income, the more chance he had of the impact of the £150 demanded of him being in some way alleviated.

So he played his ace.

Henry Scott Tuke. An ‘artist of great eminence’. A gentleman of some standing.

And Tuke, not for the last time, came to his aid²⁴. Jackett indeed only earned 3s/week when he was employed by him; after all Tuke had advanced him three years’ wages to cover the cost of the first trial.

Thomas Jackett provided further weight. Swallowing his parental pride, he stated that it was true his son didn’t work for him. He hadn’t the aptitude.

Dobell might have been prepared to browbeat and mock John Jackett, but you don’t look down your nose at men of the status of Henry Scott Tuke and Thomas Jackett. The prosecution can’t have liked it, but Jackett opening his wallet and casually thumbing out £150 in cash wasn’t going to happen.

John Jackett was ordered to pay 5s/month to the Overs, until the £150 – and costs – were cleared.

Although a frequent sight in courts across the land during the 1800s, many breach of promise cases didn’t result in the bumper payouts many female plaintiffs hoped for. As one historian notes,

…probably a large number of defendants never paid damages…

Ginger S. Frost, Promises Broken, p35

There were many ways to avoid paying an ex-lover. One of the more common methods was for the man to escape abroad and lie low until, hopefully, the whole sorry mess had blown over²⁵.

John Jackett went to South Africa. He signed up for three years.

The Run Home

*Royal Cornwall Gazette*, April 11 1901, p1

The Attestation Papers of over 5,000 men who joined the Cape Mounted Police before, during and after the Boer War (1899-1902) are held in the Western Cape Archives, Cape Town.

It is not known how many sets of Papers have been lost. Those that have survived are in a poor state, often with pages missing. At some point, they were boxed up in a seemingly random order²⁶.

Mercifully, a volunteer, Adrian Ellard, has indexed and digitised what Papers remain. To him I am incredibly grateful.

Luckily for us most of 1014 Trooper John Jackett’s Attestation Papers still exist.

One can learn a lot from such records.

We know he took an oath of allegiance to Edward VII (or rather, one of his representatives) on June 1, 1901 at Kimberley (the training camp for new recruits).

We know he enrolled and underwent a medical examination (now, cough…) in London on May 10. Because of this we know he thought he was born in 1879, not 1878. He was 5ft 8″, with blue eyes, dark hair, and a scar near one of his eyes.

We also have his original application form, submitted in Falmouth on April 18. We know that Tuke supplied a letter of reference, that he was single, could shoot, weighed 11 stone and he had rather neat, stylish handwriting.

We also know he lied on this form, declaring that he had no convictions.

He also underwent a medical in Falmouth. His chest was measured at 37″ – and he was free of venereal disease.

On May 10, he signed the Articles of Agreement in Westminster. John Jackett was now a Private, 3rd class, of the Cape Police, 2 District. He was given free passage to Cape Town and thence by rail to Kimberley. The Articles stipulated three years service.

He would be provided with his own horse, money for uniform, and would earn 7s/day.

All of which is very interesting. But none of these precious documents give us the answers to two very important questions:

What did he actually do in South Africa?

Why did he quit the Police after only a year?

We can infer that, as his application was submitted on April 18 – the deadline day specified in the Royal Cornwall Gazette (above) – Jackett’s decision to take the new King’s shilling was a last-moment one, that may have caused some hand-wringing.

His signing-up almost certainly cannot be borne from a sense of duty or patriotism. After all, the Boer War had been fought since 1899, and was about to enter its most unpopular and bitter phase with the British public. It divided Cornish loyalties between the Boers who had welcomed them to the diamond mines, and Britain’s imperial interests and and prestige²⁷. One can only conclude he left because of the cloud he found himself under regarding Caroline Over.

Jackett would have had no problem proving his fitness, nor his aptitude on a horse. In May 1900, he had faced Falmouth’s populace on horseback, albeit in disguise. The dual-celebrations of Queen Victoria’s birthday and the relief of Mafeking saw Jackett impersonate the siege’s hero, Lord Roberts, for the crowd’s amusement²⁸.

It’s hard to imagine how anyone thought Jackett would be a dead-ringer for Field Marshall Frederick Roberts (1832-1914). Image from his Wikipedia entry

We also know that, if Tuke supplied a suitable reference for Jackett’s application, he also saw his friend off. He treated Jackett and three rugby-playing comrades who also joined up (Christophers, Toy and Coleman) to an evening out in London and a slap-up meal at Gatti’s, Tuke’s joint of choice whenever he was up in Town²⁹.

One assumes the plush decor of Gatti’s in London was similar to his restaurants aboard the *RMS Olympic* (above) and its sister ship, the *Titanic*³⁰

Jackett’s own recollections of his tour of duty are contained in two newspaper interviews. The first was for Lake’s Falmouth Packet, given shortly after his return to Falmouth on June 7, 1902³¹.

The second was for the Dewsbury Reporter of March 3, 1928³². His nephew, Ivor Jackett was due to play for Cornwall against Yorkshire in Bradford for that season’s County Chamionship. As Uncle John played no small part in the last time Cornwall lifted the trophy in 1908, a Dewsbury stringer had sought him out.

Ivor Jackett is standing, third from the right. John Jackett watched Cornwall lose the Final 12-8³³

Both interviews must be approached with caution. If Jackett lied in his application to the Police, what did he falsify or exaggerate for the Press?

That said, one thing can be confirmed in his interview for Lake’s. Shortly after arriving in Kimberley, Jackett contracted pneumonia. Though he blithely put his recovery down to an iron-clad, teetotal constitution, it was serious enough to see him hospitalised for two months. Four other recruits who fell ill died.

Tuke heard of this back in Cornwall, and was seriously emotionally affected. Plagued by dreams (or nightmares) of his stricken friend, he was moved to paint The Run Home:

Tuke painted himself as the figure at the helm, guiding the young Jackett (lying prone and staring out of the canvas at the viewer) to safety. It has been argued that

…Tuke launches a rescue mission in his painting. He recovers Jackett and brings him home to Falmouth. Tuke did not see the point of losing in South Africa another man, a beautiful inspiration for his art and desire.

Jeremy Kim Jongwoo, “Naturalism, Labour and Homoerotic Desire: Henry Scott Tuke”, in: British Queer History: New Approaches and Perspectives, ed. B. Lewis, Manchester University Press, 2013, p46³⁵

Overall, though, Jackett described his time as a Policeman as “dreary”, and he certainly emphasises this.

Holed up in a cramped blockhouse near Kimberley all day, going on the odd patrol, and doubtless eating sweaty bully-beef out of a tin, you’d wonder there was a war on at all.

A blockhouse guarding the Orange River Bridge. Blockhouses were essentially fortifications erected at various strategic points to repel Boer attacks

Sport, Jackett informs the wide-eyed reporter, kept him from dying of boredom. He played rugby for the local Police XV, and turned out for the nearby De Beers Mine team. (The De Beers Group had been founded in 1888 by Cecil Rhodes; both his actions and his mine contributed to the war’s outbreak³⁷.)

He also won cycling races, and was even prominent in various sporting events during his voyage home. There is a report of him playing a game of Association football in Kimberley, and a belief has also developed that he turned out for Transvaal against the 1903 British Lions, but this can’t have happened. He was already back in Cornwall³⁸.

Jackett is keen to present a certain image of himself to the public, a public that was by now largely opposed to a war fought by scorched earth policies and concentration camps³⁹. Although debate raged as to the reality of the conditions in the camps⁴⁰, there’s little doubt that measles and other diseases made

…camp life in winter fatal to a large number of children and weakly persons.

Daily News (London), November 7 1901, p10

Boer civilians inside a British concentration camp⁴¹

As one historian has observed, during the Boer War

Almost 50,000 innocent people lost their lives in concentration camps due to overcrowding, malnutrition and rampant levels of diseases.

Sharron P. Schwartz, Cornish Mineworkers in South Africa⁴²

Lest we forget, there was one such camp at Kimberley. Located on De Beers land, it housed 5,000 inmates, not enough tents, lots of whooping cough and rudimentary medical knowledge⁴³.

By not mentioning if he ever saw duty as a guard there (and we may never know the truth), Jackett in his interview is putting distance between himself and the horrors of the Boer War. Such unpleasant goings-on were not part of his experiences.

No, he’d been abroad, got a tan, gained a few pounds, and played sport, all for a decent wage.

That was all he would tell Lake’s – and it may have been all Lake’s wanted to hear.

By the time we reach the Dewsbury Reporter interview of 1928, Jackett has honed his story. He had “ran away from home” with friends, after being

…enamoured of a wandering life…

Once reaching South Africa, he

…indulged in sport to his heart’s content…

He won a prized trophy in a championship cycle race organised by De Beers. A bigwig of the mining corporation, a fellow Cornishman, had also offered him a “good position” on the firm. This last is almost certainly a fiction. Jackett was never a mining engineer, and much less a miner.

He never told that tale in Cornwall because nobody would have believed him. He also told the Reporter that his mother eventually

…bought him out of the mounted police…

Which may very well be true. Jackett’s discharge papers show that someone bought him out for £10, or just over £1,000 today:

“Discharged by purchase, (Exceptional) Payment of £10, May 5 1902”

We can also conclude that, whatever Jackett’s duties may have been, he wasn’t especially diligent in executing them. These papers tell a very different story of Jackett’s war than the one he himself liked to tell.

He was docked a day’s pay for neglect of duty, and given three weeks’ additional guard duty for being caught out of barracks, out of uniform, and without permission. Who knows what he was up to, but you certainly couldn’t ‘play sport to your heart’s content’ if you’ve extra duties to carry out.

Besides the pneumonia, he also suffered an infected toe, a bashed-up elbow, and another old injury apparently flared up too.

Jackett certainly did nothing for two months of his tour except recover from pneumonia

The sparse official record of Jackett’s time in the Cape Mounted Police suggests a very different experience than the one he described himself.

Certainly one thing neither Lake’s or the Reporter mention is the scandal involving Caroline Over. He may have agreed to talk to Lake’s on condition it wasn’t mentioned, and the Reporter obviously had no knowledge of the business.

In fact, the £150 damages he owed to Caroline are never mentioned in public again. You like to believe that, on his good Policeman’s pay, he could afford to make things right in that regard. But that’s a question that cannot be answered.

Until South African newspaper archives become more easily available (or someone commissions me to spend two weeks in Cape Town), we will never definitively know what Jackett’s duties in the Boer War were. We can say, however, that the rosy picture he painted for the Press doesn’t bear much close scrutiny.

But now, the carefree, sport-loving John Jackett was back. Back, and ready to devote his energies to what he was probably best at.

Playing rugby.

Read all about his stellar – and controversial – Rugby Union career in In Search of John Jackett, Part Three by clicking HERE…

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

Excerpts are from the Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 1 1900, p8, and the Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7.
Cornish Post and Mining News, November 3 1898, p5.
Western Morning News, August 4 1903, p7. This seems to have been common practice for such expensive trophies – and important race events. Previous winners had travelled from Bristol and Oxford University to compete for the five mile cup in Falmouth, and to own it in perpetuity you had to win the race over three seasons.
Image from: https://thepoly.org/history-archive/item/23/edward-john-jackett
Informing this section is Ginger S. Frost’s Promises Broken: Courtship, Class, and Gender in Victorian England, Virginia University Press, 1995.
Image from: https://thisivyhouse.tumblr.com/post/160526080358/connoisseur-art-richard-borrmeister-lovers
In the 1901 census, she appears as a parlour-maid at a residence in St Marychurch, near Torquay. Possibly, aged 41, she married a David W. Evans at Bristol in 1917. England and Wales, Civil Registration Marriage Index 1916-2005, Vol. 6a, p421.
See: Bethany Usher, Journalism and Crime, Routledge, 2024, p98-133.
Image from: http://www.hertfordshire-genealogy.co.uk/data/projects/FS/Series/Breach%20of%20Promise%20Series.htm
England and Wales, Civil Registration Birth Index 1837-1915, Vol. 5c, p139. The Overs’ move to Portscatho, and the rest of the narrative in this section, is taken from the Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 1 1900, p8, and the Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7.
England and Wales, Civil Registration Death Index 1837-1915, Vol. 5c, p85.
Image from: http://www.hertfordshire-genealogy.co.uk/data/projects/FS/Series/Breach%20of%20Promise%20Series.htm
Frost, Promises Broken, p22.
Image from: http://www.hertfordshire-genealogy.co.uk/data/projects/FS/Series/Breach%20of%20Promise%20Series.htm
Image from: https://racingnelliebly.com/fashion-forward/victorian-couples-embraced-romance/
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melodrama
Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7.
Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 1 1900, p8.
Cornish Echo, February 2 1900, p7.
Image from: https://www.economist.com/culture/2022/05/26/the-bicycle-is-humanitys-most-underrated-invention
Image from: https://rugby-pioneers.blogs.com/rugby/2012/02/my-entry.html
The narrative for this section is taken from: Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5 and March 8 1901, p4; Royal Cornwall Gazette, February 14 1901, p3.
Information from: “Rational Choice and a Lifetime in Metal Mining: Employment Decisions by Nineteenth-Century Cornish Miners”, by Roger Burt and Sandra Kippen, International Review of Social History, Vol. 46.1 (2001), p45-75.
As we saw in Part One, Tuke saved Jackett from drowning in 1905. See: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/06/29/in-search-of-john-jackett-king-of-cornish-sport-part-one/
Frost, Promises Broken, p35-7.
Information from: https://www.angloboerwar.com/unit-information/south-african-units/310-cape-mounted-police?start=1
For more on the Cornish in South Africa, see Sharron Schwartz’s essay here: https://www.cousinjacksworld.com/cornish-mine-workers-in-south-africa/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, May 31 1900, p7. For more on Lord Roberts, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Mafeking, and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Roberts,_1st_Earl_Roberts
From: “Naturalism, Labour and Homoerotic Desire: Henry Scott Tuke”, by Jeremy Kim Jongwoo, in: British Queer History: New Approaches and Perspectives, ed. B. Lewis, Manchester University Press, 2013, p44.
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luigi_Gatti_%28restaurateur%29
Lake’s, June 14 1902, p5. With thanks to Danny Trick and Victoria Sutcliffe of Falmouth RFC for showing me this.
With thanks to Mr John Jackett of Falmouth for providing me with this article.
Image from: https://www.crfu.co.uk/home/gallery/. See also: West Briton, March 12 1928, p2.
Image from: https://imagearchive.royalcornwallmuseum.org.uk/fine-art/run-home-henry-scott-tuke-1858-1929-18975858.html
Of course, this reading of The Run Home only works if it is indeed Tuke at the helm of the boat. Elsewhere it is asserted that the helmsman is in fact a man called Hingston, a lifeboatman from Falmouth. See: https://imagearchive.royalcornwallmuseum.org.uk/fine-art/run-home-henry-scott-tuke-1858-1929-18975858.html
Images and information from: https://www.angloboerwar.com/other-information/16-other-information/1844-blockhouses
For more information, go to: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cecil_Rhodes, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_Beers, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jameson_Raid
For the soccer match, see the Cornish Echo, October 11 1901, p6. Jackett’s supposed appearance for Transvaal is mentioned in: The Tigers Tale: The Official History of Leicester Football Club 1880-1993, by Stuart Farmer and David Hands, ACL & Polar Publishing, 1993, p154.
For a brief overview of the various phases of the Boer War, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Boer_War
For example, the Evening Mail (London), August 28 1901, p6.
Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Boer_War_concentration_camps
Find the article here: https://www.cousinjacksworld.com/cornish-mine-workers-in-south-africa/
See: https://www2.lib.uct.ac.za/mss/bccd/Histories/Kimberley/
Image from: https://www.angloboerwar.com/unit-information/south-african-units/310-cape-mounted-police?start=2

In Search of John Jackett, King of Cornish Sport: Part One

Reading time: 25 minutes

Tackle firmly and strongly; kick hard and safely; field the ball smartly and unhesitatingly…Play the game and do your best!

~ John Jackett offers some youngsters sage advice

I think I have seen your face and figure represented in a picture?

~ A lawyer at Falmouth County Court narrows his eyes at the young man before him in the dock

Of course John had 1,001 girlfriends…

~ Jackett’s wife, Sallie nee’ Chapman, is under no illusions

Jackett, a modern Bartram…

~ A journalist makes a loaded statement before Jackett’s England debut¹

Many figures in Cornish history I choose to write about have a singular occupation, or significant characteristic that piques my interest. Richard Holloway was a lawyer; Beatrice Small a fortune teller; Joseph Burnett a peace officer; Paul Rabey an immoral rogue².

The above-named quartet have one thing in common: nowadays they are all-but forgotten. Edward John Jackett (1878-1935) is different. His achievements and accolades made him renowned in his own lifetime, and celebrated even now. Indeed, the surname ‘Jackett’ is so synonymous with the town of Falmouth that the pathway John and other members of his family took to his father’s prosperous boatyard is memorialised with the following sign:

At the top of High Street, overlooking Greenbank. With thanks for the assistance of Danny Trick, Falmouth RFC

It is John Jackett’s exploits on the rugby field for which he is primarily remembered, and these are of formidable historic import. But the man had talent to burn and the physique to match, and was a ‘crack’, as the Edwardians used to say, at any game he had a mind to try, be it bicycling or billiards.

But that wasn’t all. It must be stated that John Jackett also happened to be one handsome devil:

From a postcard taken by E. A. Osborne of Falmouth, 1909³

He posed as a model in some of Victorian Cornwall’s most loved paintings, whose artist, Henry Scott Tuke (1858-1929) gained a lasting reputation as having done so much to

…popularize Cornwall as a land of sunshine and health.

Cornish Echo, April 16 1909, p5

Youngsters were in awe of him. His peers admired him. His elders respected him. Women swooned – and so did a few men. You might say he was idolised, and he certainly was⁴.

But idols can be false, and Jackett was not above spinning the odd yarn to present himself in a more acceptable light – and he had reason to.

Plus there was one aspect of his character that Jackett, certainly during his years as a Rugby Union player (from the late 1890s to 1911), preferred not to have brought up.

Quite simply, he often played rugby for money. If caught, under the RFU’s amateur codes of the time, he would face suspension and, as a high-profile star, scandal. I’m not referring here to just the well-known RFU investigation of his signing for Leicester. From Jackett’s earliest seasons, a question mark as to his amateur bona fides regularly hovered nearby.

Of course, there’s no concrete proof, no smoking gun. Rugby Union clubs of the early 1900s could probably show today’s sharpest Wall Street sharks a thing or two about cooking the books. But every now and then, you come across a recalled conversation, an insinuation or a rumour that all was not as it seemed.

His signing with the professional Northern Union club Dewsbury in late 1911 was seen cynically by some as his attempt to cash in on his reputation whilst he still had some gas in the tank⁵. In truth, Jackett had always gone where the money was.

Jackett’s era was also the era of the great middle-class amateur sportsman, where victory on the playing field, if it came at all, had to be carried off with a certain elan:

To achieve success with the appearance of minimal effort was as important to the century-maker at Lord’s as it was to the student with a first from Balliol.

Tony Collins, A Social History of English Rugby Union, Routledge, 2009, p31

Jackett’s apparently effortless dominance of the games he played hides the hours, days, weeks of dedication and graft he devoted to honing his many crafts.

How did he find time to do it? What drove him on? What was he trying to prove, and to whom? This four-part series of posts seeks to provide some answers to these questions.

Jackett’s Steps

Head of a sporting family: Thomas Jackett, 1853-1938. Image courtesy of Mr John Jackett, Falmouth

Thomas Jackett epitomised the outdoor, maritime life. A shipwright since his teenage years, he later struck out on his own, manufacturing vessels out of the Victoria Boatyard until the 1930s. The steps I mentioned earlier – Jackett’s Steps – descended from Falmouth’s High Street, past Jackett’s yard and on to the beach. Quiet nowadays, like many of Cornwall’s industrial relics the steps leave little suggestion of what a noisy, busy and commercial place this must have been⁶.

The bottom of Jackett’s Steps today. The Victoria Yard was on your right. With thanks for the assistance of Danny Trick, Falmouth RFC

With Jackett Senior at the helm, the Victoria Boatyard thrived. In 1896 he signed a contract to manufacture a craft for £230 – that’s £25K today⁸. So knowledgeable of his trade, and so seaworthy were his vessels, that some are still around:

The *Curlew*, built by Jackett in 1912. Refitted 2018⁹

Life must have been comfortable enough for Thomas to indulge his passion: sailing. A member of Falmouth Sailing Club, in 1900 he built Marion, an 18-foot class yacht, for the main purpose of racing her¹⁰.

And he was successful. In 1902, for example, Marion won her class in the St Mawes Regatta, Thomas lifting a trophy worth £5, or £500 now¹¹. The Marion was feared for her speed, and was described as

…the fastest boat in her class for many years.

Thomas Jackett’s obituary in the Cornishman, July 7 1938, p2

Such was Jackett’s reputation that in 1911 he accepted a best-of-three-race challenge from a Southampton man who fancied his 18-footer Flatfish to be the fastest on the South Coast.

The two men competed for bragging rights, prestige…and money. Both gentleman-sportsmen chipped in £10 for a £20 prize, or £2K in 2023. One can only speculate as to what was laid down in bets. The Flatfish and her owner arrived in Cornwall by train, and great was the hubbub that ensued.

Billed as ‘The Championship of the South Coast’, it raced out of Falmouth Harbour and over to Pendennis. Jackett was an easy victor, his lasting reputation as a sailor secure. It must have been a long trip back to Southampton¹³.

Jackett was something of a local hero too; over the course of his life he was known to have saved five people from drowning. On one of these occasions, his son was called on to assist, and as no name was given, it’s impossible to know which of Thomas’s offspring was given such hands-on tutelage in saving lives at sea¹⁴.

For Thomas and his wife Emmeline had five male children: William, John, Dick, Fred and Frank. All were more than proficient sailors and rowers, and as their father obviously wasn’t the kind of grizzled old salt who scorned the activities of effete landlubbers, all five took to rugby football with a will¹⁵.

Three sons – William, Dick and Fred – followed Thomas into the boatbuilding trade, with Dick taking over the business in the 1930s. Frank found a career from a young age as a public health inspector, and stuck with it¹⁶.

The odd man out in this respect was John Jackett. As Thomas remarked, in a courtroom and under oath, John

…did not work for him…he might come in the shop…but he did not work there…John never took to it…

Cornish Echo, March 8 1901, p4

Was John a disappointment to his father in this regard? If he’d been the only son, perhaps so. Leaving speculation aside, John’s lack of aptitude for the life of a shipwright must have been evident from an early age. The 1891 census tells us that, at the age of 12, he was working as a butcher, and this can’t have lasted long.

Fortunately for the young John Jackett, he had several things in his favour: an amazing sporting ability, a propensity to work hard at things he enjoyed, a keen eye for a financial opportunity (surely a gift bestowed on him by his father), and matinee-idol looks.

Looks first, as it’s these that gave him his start in life.

‘Tuko’

*Head of Johnny Jackett*, by Henry Scott Tuke, mid-1890s¹⁷

Youth standing sweet, triumphant by the sea,
All freshness of the day
And all the light
Of morn of thy white limbs, firm, bared and bright.

From Tuke’s Sonnet to the Sea, published anonymously in The Artist and Journal of Home Culture¹⁸

Thomas Jackett was possibly pondering the future of his second son when opportunity came knocking in the early 1890s.

The Impressionist painter Henry Scott Tuke had recently moved to Swanpool from Newlyn. Being as mad-keen a sailor as Jackett himself (Tuke later became Commodore of Falmouth Yacht Club; the two men would also compete together in regattas¹⁹), Tuke needed some repairs carried out to his yacht, which is why he visited Jackett’s boatyard. He was also on the lookout for a servant who knew something about sailing, with bed and board thrown in²⁰. Thomas’s ears pricked up. As he was later to state,

…he put him [John] with Mr Tuke.

Cornish Echo, March 8 1901, p4

It was the beginning of a lasting friendship.

While Tuke’s sexuality was probably an open secret, there was never any suggestion of impropriety, with Jackett or any other local lad who posed for his paintings. Tuke was always careful to seek permission from a potential model’s parents before proceeding to employ them²¹. In many ways, working as a model for Tuke was the ideal ‘seasonal’ job for a teenage boy: you got to row boats, play cricket, swim in the sea, and occasionally pose for a painting. Easy money. As one of Tuke’s models, Tom White, remarked.

I earned altogether about £80 [£3,400] which I used for buying furniture when I got married later in London…he was a great guy!²²

Tuke and Jackett’s relationship ran deeper than this. Jackett himself remarked that

Mr Tuke was everything that was wonderful…

Qtd in Henry Scott Tuke 1858-1929: Under Canvas, by David Wainwright and Catherine Dinn, Sarema Press, 1989, p60

How could he say otherwise, when Tuke himself had once saved Jackett from drowning? John was sailing with another man when the boat capsized; his companion, a non-swimmer, held fast to the upturned vessel whilst Jackett calmly treaded water. Tuke swam out and hauled Jackett’s companion to land, assuming John would make it to shore under his own steam. However a tethered fish hook had pierced Jackett’s bare foot when the boat went over – he was trapped. Tuke swam out again, and somehow got both man and boat back to the beach, where the hook was (painfully) extracted²³.

Tuke and Jackett aboard the *Flamingo*, Fowey, c1904²⁴

(Of course, Tuke had already stepped in to extricate his wayward model from a tight situation several years before this event – but more on that later.)

Tuke for his part seems to have relied on Jackett’s calm, reliable demeanour, his ingrained knowledge of sailing, and the fact that some of his best work featured his servant and friend. Tuke’s art was exhibited in Falmouth as recently as 2021²⁵.

The Swimmers’ Pool (1895), one of Tuke’s first paintings where Jackett appears, originally sold for £600 – that’s a whopping £65K today²⁶.

August Blue (1893-4), with Jackett’s modesty covered by means of a towel, is Tuke’s most famous piece. On his death in 1929 it was reproduced in Cornish newspapers²⁷.

Tuke appreciated Jackett’s looks (and physique) so much as to paint his portrait:

Whether Tuke’s work with Cornish, amateur male models reflects his class-consciousness and social commentary, or if it highlights his desire

…to reintroduce the lost [Greek] tradition of the homoerotic adoration of youths into the fabric of working-class reality…

Jeremy Kim Jongwoo, “Naturalism, Labour and Homoerotic Desire: Henry Scott Tuke”, in British Queer History: New Approaches and Perspectives, ed. B. Lewis, Manchester University Press, 2013, p40

…is a question I shall leave to art historians and queer theorists. That said, 1890s intellectual culture was permeated by a (of necessity) clandestine homosexual movement centred around Oscar Wilde and known as The Uranians³⁰.

Tuke’s association with these somewhat louche figures is well-known. The eminent historian and Uranian Horatio Brown (1854-1926) had his portrait painted by Tuke in 1899, and he evidently found the appearance of the artist’s assistant worth commemorating in verse³¹:

Hie! Johnnie Jackett!

Ho! Johnnie Jackett!

Young Johnnie Jackett,

Come and live wi’ me;

For life may be a folly,

But we two will make it jolly,

If we sail and swim together, and can live like you and me.

Horatio Brown, “Johnnie Jackett”, from Drift, 1900. With thanks to Donna Westlake, Falmouth Art Gallery

Jackett’s beauty was also versified in John Gambril Nicholson’s (1866-1931) very privately published volume A Garland of Ladslove in 1911³².

What Jackett, or indeed Tuke made of all this is unknown. Although Jackett was subject to unwanted advances from at least one (that we know of) Falmouth man, his relationship with his employer and friend remained just that³³.

Glass negative showing Henry Scott Tuke and John Jackett outside Tuke’s house at Pennance, c.1896

Photograph of Henry Scott Tuke (standing) with John Jackett (seated) and his wife Sallie Jackett on the beach at Pennance c.1920. Sallie and John married in 1909, and she only had fond memories of Tuke³⁴

In any case, Tuke and Jackett had something much more in common: sport. The emergence of ‘modern’ sports in the 1850s which supplanted more traditional, plebeian forms of recreation (cudgelling, hurling, bareknuckle boxing etc) has been seen as the need for

…an institution of social fatherhood to provide training in manly pursuits – war, commerce, government…The popularity of sport expressed this shift from belief…to the man-made, knowable and material world of human endeavour and the body…

Varda Burstyn, The Rites of Men: Manhood, Politics, and the Culture of Sport, University of Toronto Press, 1999, p45, 76

Moreover, in Britain the rise of physical culture was in part a reaction to a realisation in the 1890s that the sun might finally be beginning to set on the Empire. It was time to harden yourself against decadent temptation (as exemplified in the Uranian movement), and prepare for imminent conflict³⁵.

Recreation can take many forms. Not only a keen sailor, Tuke had one of his studios converted to a billiards room³⁶, and doubtless taught Jackett how to play the game. Jackett, naturally, proved more than handy with cue in hand³⁷.

The model Tom White also recalled that Tuke had a practice area for cricket set up behind another one of his studios. Tuke had learnt the game in Middlesex, and was acquainted with such Victorian giants of whites and willow as C. B. Fry, Prince Ranji and W. G. Grace. He even had his own banal cricketing nickname: ‘Tuko’³⁸.

In his idle moments, Tuke’s mind would drift toward the summer game³⁹

Jackett was playing in matches as early as 1896. Throughout the 1900s, he and ‘Tuko’ played for Falmouth Church Institute CC, with Jackett heading the batting averages for the 1907 season⁴⁰.

As to the more manly pursuits, Jackett was to state in an interview that he was a “clever” boxer⁴¹, and he may well have been. However, I can find no report of him ever having fought an organised bout. That’s ‘organised’. When he squared up on the streets of Falmouth to a burly prizefighter from Plymouth whose dog had been worrying his, Jackett came away minus a tooth, and a jaw one good clout away from being broken⁴².

As his features earned him money, Jackett may have concluded that having them rearranged by someone’s knuckles was financially ill-advised, and equally painful⁴³.

Although they cycled together, and Tuke tried to watch every rugby match he played, Jackett’s job with Tuke was genuinely seasonal⁴⁴. As he was to state,

I am only with Mr Tuke seven months in the year. He is five months in London, and the rest of the time I live on my father…

Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5

(We will be examining the truthfulness of how much Jackett ‘lived on his father’ in due course.)

When he was in Tuke’s company, though, the young Jackett must have learned a valuable lesson: that of the sheer single-minded devotion one must have to excel in your chosen field. When an interviewer remarked on the seemingly easy rapidity with which Tuke produced his wonderful pictures, the artist replied,

Only after long practice in the open, on top of six or seven years’ grinding at the Slade and in Paris.

Black and White, August 12 1905, p12

In the lengthy hours Jackett must have posed for Tuke, conversed with him, or merely just watched the man at work, the lesson must surely have been absorbed. If you want to be the best, you have to put in the graft.

Glass negative photograph of Johnny Jackett and Isa Watson seated in a beached dinghy posing for the ‘Idyll of the Sea’ (1898)…

As Jackett himself would later write whilst in New Zealand with the British Lions,

…nothing tends to promote combination and judgment more than constant practice…

Evening Star, January 13 1908, p8

Even by 1899, the Vice President of Falmouth RFC stated that John Jackett was an example to all players,

…being always in strict training…

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, November 18 1899, p5. Emphasis mine

Realising that what you do off the pitch is as important as what happens on it, Jackett took care of his health too. When interviewed in 1902, he stated that his powers of recovery were due to

…the fact that he is a teetotaller.

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, June 14 1902, p5. With thanks to Victoria Sutcliffe and Danny Trick of Falmouth RFC for showing me this.

Building boats wasn’t for him. His brothers held good jobs. For practically half the year, he had no income, excepting his father’s good grace. Necessity was about to collide with willpower.

John Jackett picked something he was good at, and tried to make a living from it.

That thing was a sport. It was fast, exciting, risky, and brought its champions fame and ready money.

Track cycling.

Palmares

The Saint Piran Pro Cycling Team, 2020. Team Principal Richard Pascoe is standing left⁴⁶

Bicycle racing is

…an excellent example of a new mass-spectator sport in the mid-19th century, during which there was an urge to both market and consume a novel spectacle.

Andrew Ritchie, “The Origins of Bicycle Racing in England: Technology, Entertainment, Sponsorship and Advertising in the Early History of the Sport”, Journal of Sport History, Vol. 26.3 (1999): p489-520

The advances made in mass-manufacturing methods made development and production of machines easier; entrepreneurs saw a new money-spinner; riders naturally wanted to pit their wits against each other, and people with expendable income and leisure time felt moved to witness the thrills and spills.

Without the Industrial Revolution, recreational cycling and/or bike racing would not have become the phenomenon it was. The invention in the 1880s of the safety bicycle and the pneumatic tyre made cycling a more practical and comfortable prospect. Although in the 1890s a high-end machine could set you back £30 (£3,200 today), factory-line production made bikes affordable for members of the upper working-class. Mirroring the rise of modern football (Association, Union and Northern), cycling clubs appeared all over the country and, sure enough, competitions were held⁴⁷.

The development in many towns of multi-purpose sports and recreation grounds meant that, when in 1890 the National Cyclists’ Union banned racing on open roads, an infrastructure existed to accommodate track cycling⁴⁸.

All this happened in Cornwall too. And John Jackett was one of the first Cornish cycling stars.

The rapid modernisation of cycling. Here is Camborne Cycling Club with their ‘Ordinaries’ (Penny Farthings), c1880. Image Kresen Kernow, ref. corn04338…

…and here is Camborne Cycling Club with their recognisably modern safety bicycles in 1900. The figure on the left is Charles Vivian Thomas, Camborne RFC’s first captain. Image Kresen Kernow, ref. corn05399⁴⁹

In the sport’s earliest years, meets were often an adjunct of a well-established local event. The first report of an organised bike race in Cornwall (that I can find) was held at Falmouth Regatta in August 1869⁵⁰.

In 1871 Penryn Regatta held, with Penny Farthings and narrow thoroughfares, the terrifying spectacle of a mass street race pell-mell around the town. By 1875 the organisers of Zelah Feast had moved with the times, its cycling competition being the “chief attraction” of the festivities⁵¹.

More traditional – and pedestrian – fare was on offer at Zelah in 1907⁵²

It rapidly became apparent that race meets were an event in themselves. 3,000 watched the day’s thrills and spills at Plymouth in 1878, which featured riders from Cornwall⁵³. Newspapers increased their coverage, which of course fed the publicity mill. In the 1890s, the Cornishman‘s dedicated cycling columnist rejoiced in the pseudonym ‘Inflatable’, while Lake’s Falmouth Packet‘s man contributed under the guise of ‘Pneumatic’⁵⁴.

Clubs formed to accommodate and regulate the new craze. Launceston could boast one as early as 1878; hot on its heels (or wheels) was the Penzance ‘First and Last’ Club, certainly in existence by 1879⁵⁵.

A touring club pauses for refreshment (and posterity) at the Grylls Monument, Helston, c1900. Image Kresen Kernow, ref. AD2441/3

The mining district’s ‘One and All’ club was at first inaugurated in 1881 for riders of both Camborne and Redruth. Perhaps predictably, the unity was short-lived, and by 1883, with no sense of irony, Redruth had its own One and All Club…as did Camborne⁵⁶.

Camborne Wheelers line up at the Recreation Ground in the 1930s⁵⁷

Open-air velodromes began to appear in the 1880s. New recreation grounds and sports fields provided ideal locations, plus the owners could demand an entry fee – you couldn’t very well charge people admission when they’re stood on a pavement hollering at a road-race. Penzance had a (much criticised) grass track circling its cricket pitch from 1886⁵⁸. Falmouth’s Recreation Ground on Dracaena Avenue opened in 1889 with a state-of-the-art cinder track, unashamedly described in a local ‘paper as

…the best cinder track in the South of England…

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, August 1 1891, p5⁵⁹

The opening of Falmouth Rec in 1889. Image courtesy Gerry Keith and Danny Trick, Falmouth RFC

The Redruth One and All track, by contrast, was lambasted for being

…a rough and hilly field…

Cycling, January 16 1892, p443

To be sure, there were no regulations or stipulations for velodromes at this time; Bodmin’s track was grass too⁶⁰.

All this goes to show that, by the time John Jackett began to make his mark in the sport, Cornish track racing was an established and popular element of the sporting year. It had its own calendar of events, its own venues, its own following and a multitude of riders.

Jackett was the pick of the bunch.

He was still a teenager when he began to make a name for himself in local meets, and barely eighteen when he travelled to North Cornwall for the “auspicious” annual athletics meet of Launceston Harriers⁶¹.

In between events, the 1,500-strong crowd (most of whom patronised a purpose-built grandstand) were entertained by Launceston Volunteer Band. Prizes totalled over 30 guineas, or north of £3K now.

Like practically all the meets Jackett appeared in, this one recognised the Amateur Athletics Association and National Cyclists’ Union, thus

…totally barring the professional element.

Cornish and Devon Post, June 27 1896, p8

This was a competition for the gentleman-amateur, who wouldn’t tolerate any shortcomings on the track being laid bare by a socially inferior being. Losing to a Bank Manager or a lawyer, say, would have been acceptable, but having to cough on the dust of a former miner-turned-pro? The indignity…⁶²

Jackett won the mile race by a yard, but crashed in the three-miler.

When he starred in the August Bank Holiday meet on his home turf, the cycling pundit ‘Pneumatic’ observed that

…he was in fine form, and was responsible for much high pressure…all his wins were popular…

Lake’s Falmouth Packet, August 8 1896, p8

He took the mile prize, the club two-mile contest, and came second in the half-mile championship of all Devon and Cornwall. Falmouth’s Mayor singled out his “plucky riding”⁶³.

Jackett took the three-mile prize at a meet of the Truro Church Insititute, with the trophy being presented to him by Truro’s MP, Edwin Lawrence.

Edwin Lawrence (1837-1914) was not only a fan of John Jackett, but also believed Shakespeare’s plays had in fact been written by Sir Francis Bacon⁶⁴

Though Jackett was keen to stress his amateur status, in 1901 he himself estimated that he had won over £150 in prizes, or £15K today⁶⁵.

Considering he had only been racing competitively since 1896 (and his peak years can be judged to be from 1897-99, before his rugby career genuinely took off), this is impressive. For example, his earnings from a single day’s racing at St Austell in 1898 were £5 5s, or over £540 nowadays⁶⁶. At Sidmouth in 1897 he was presented with a set of gold studs for winning the mile handicap which, to modern eyes, was the most edifying award on offer: other victors could hold aloft a cigarette case, or a box of fine cigars⁶⁷.

If not a professional cyclist, Jackett certainly took a professional attitude. We have already noted his diligence in honing his rugby skills, and he was similarly dedicated to his bike. In 1896 he and another rider spent

Every night for the week…practising hard on the Recreation Ground track, and with excellent results…

Lakes Falmouth Packet, August 1 1896, p5. With thanks to Victoria Sutcliffe and Danny Trick of Falmouth RFC for showing me this.

He raced as frequently as he trained, and in 1897 had a full programme⁶⁸:

Date	Location	No. of races	Wins
April 18	Falmouth	2	0
May 28	Bodmin	1	0
June 7	Plymouth	2	0
June 16	St Austell	2	0
June 20	Falmouth	3	1
July 9	Falmouth	4	2
July 15	Camborne	2	1
August 2	Falmouth	3	2
September 4	Exeter	1	0
September 7	Sidmouth	1	0

At Falmouth on July 9th, he took the One Mile County Championship, being “a popular winner by a few feet” in a two-horse race for the finish⁶⁹.

At Camborne, in front of a “commodious” grandstand containing the well-to-do, his cycling was a “revelation”. He was also (erroneously) noted as being the Cornish three-mile champion⁷⁰, and further stoked his own myth by casually remarking to a reporter that he intended to break the Camborne to Penzance record⁷¹.

His local ‘paper was sure to list his palmares, or achievements over the 1897 season: 8 firsts (I can only find 6), 5 seconds, and 7 thirds – plus the One Mile Championship⁷².

What we are not told is how Jackett found the time, and the funds, for all his training, travelling (on a train, with a bike) and racing. Would a gentleman-amateur be present at most, if not every, major cycling meet in Cornwall and South Devon over the course of a season? Was Jackett not in the employ of Mr Tuke? (Tuke, it seems, kept his servant on a pretty loose rein⁷³.) Surely the Devon meets would have involved overnight stays?

We do know something of his racing style, however. In May 1898, at Home Park, Plymouth, he came third in a one-mile race, the victim of his own impetuosity. The riders began so slowly as to be booed and catcalled by spectators thirsty for action, and Jackett reacted, kicking on to attempt to win in a blaze of glory, but ultimately blowing himself out⁷⁴.

Racing at Home Park – Plymouth Argyle’s ground – in the early 1900s⁷⁵

He had guts too, and was prepared to mix it in a tight finish. At the opening of Camborne Recreation Ground in June 1898, the five-mile race boiled down to a thrilling sprint finale between the front three riders – none of whom made it past the line. Jackett was one of the three, flung all over the track in a nasty pile-up⁷⁶.

Riders down on the cinder track at Cologne in the 1930s. Image courtesy of Yesterday’s Velodromes, Facebook

The new cinder track at Camborne was criticised for its shallow banking, it being observed that this hindered Jackett’s tactics⁷⁷. In other words, he preferred to use the high banking on a track (which Falmouth’s possessed), and swoop down unawares on his opponents from behind, hoping to catch them off-guard.

John Jackett must have been box-office.

A cycle meet at Falmouth RFC in Jackett’s heyday. Image courtesy Danny Trick

How good a racer was he? Is it possible to measure Jackett’s track prowess and ability over a hundred and twenty years after he rode? In a way, we can.

In June 1898 at Falmouth, he won a gold cup worth £4 (£430 today) for taking first in the 25-mile race. He was timed at 70 minutes 45 seconds⁷⁸. This gives us an average speed of 21.2mph.

21.2mph, for 70 minutes, on a rather cumbersome steel-framed machine with no gears. Falmouth’s cinder track would have been heavy going too, and Jackett would have worn (at best) cotton breeches and a cotton jersey. I put the question to Richard Pascoe, ex-professional cyclist and now Team Principal of Saint Piran Pro Cycling:

Judging by the size of his chest and the strength of his limbs as illustrated in Tuke’s paintings, it’s plain to see the man had an ‘engine’, as we call it, and would have been successful in any sport. I’d say Jackett was a very fine athlete, and certainly possessed the minerals required to be the best. Falmouth’s cinder track was not a fast one, and that speed under those conditions is very impressive. Had there been a Saint Piran’s pro cycling team in that era, he would have certainly been on my books!

Given a modern machine, track conditions, training and clothing, Jackett had the physiognomy to match today’s pros. But then, all the Jackett boys had decent engines. John often rowed competitively with his brother Dick, who was a five-time Cornish champion⁷⁹. However, in the Jackett household, John was the sole cyclist.

Dick Jackett on the water. Image courtesy Mr John Jackett, Falmouth

Although he continued to race sporadically into the 1900s, and even guested (doubtless for a small consideration) at a meet in Leicester⁸⁰, Jackett’s glory years as a cyclist were relatively short-lived.

Maybe he concluded the risks outweighed the rewards. He crashed, punctured or simply ran out of steam easily as often as he won or placed, yet his reputation as a champion with amazing powers of stamina endured. At Camborne in 1900 he was the rider selected to demonstrate to the crowds an exhibition of being paced behind a motorbike⁸¹.

Image from: https://pezcyclingnews.com/features/eds-rant-life-according-to-norman/

Cycling had brought John Jackett recognition, prestige and an (irregular) income. It also brought him something else: a fanbase.

Local girls would visit his father’s house, ostensibly to admire Jackett’s trophies, but probably to grab a glimpse of the handsome young buck too⁸².

Very possibly, one of these young ladies who came calling was a Miss Caroline Over.

She and John Jackett became friendly. Very friendly.

The serious consequences of their relationship will be revealed in In Search of John Jackett, Part Two, which you can read by clicking HERE.

Many thanks for reading; follow this link for more top blogs on all things Cornwall: https://blog.feedspot.com/cornwall_blogs/

Do you enjoy my work?

All content on my website is absolutely FREE. However managing and researching my blog is costly! Please donate a small sum to help me produce more fascinating tales from Cornwall’s past!

£5.00

£10.00

£15.00

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Donate

References

Jackett wrote an article on fullback play for Fry’s Magazine of Sport, Travel and Outdoor Life, Vol 11.7, 1911, p45-8. Judge Granger’s remarks are recorded in the Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5. Sallie Jackett is quoted in Henry Scott Tuke 1858-1929: Under Canvas, by David Wainwright and Catherine Dinn, Sarema Press, 1989, p60. The journalist’s observation about Jackett is from the Evening Mail, December 1 1905, p6.
Read about Holloway’s career here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2022/09/06/murder-debt-riot-richard-holloway-redruth-solicitor/; Small’s exploits here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2021/12/20/the-notorious-beatrice-small-fortune-teller/; Burnett’s murder here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2024/03/23/gallows-bell-the-murder-of-joseph-burnett/; and Rabey’s complex scams here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2022/03/20/they-died-with-their-shoes-on-the-career-of-paul-rabey-the-younger-part-one/
Image from: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/archive/items/tga-9019-1-4-4-7/e-a-osborne-postcard-photograph-of-johnny-jackett#0
An interview with Jackett in the Dewsbury Reporter of March 10, 1928 alludes to this.
Certainly that is the view of the Royal Cornwall Gazette, January 4 1912, p3.
Information from the 1871 census, and the following piece on Jackett’s yard: https://falmouthhistory.wordpress.com/victoria-boat-yard-burts-yard/
Image from: https://falmouthhistory.wordpress.com/victoria-boat-yard-burts-yard/
Cornish Echo, March 21 1896, p5.
Image from: https://www.falmouthclassics.org.uk/participating-boats-2024/curlew/
Information from: https://www.stmawessailing.co.uk/fleets/18-foot-restricted/
Royal Cornwall Gazette, September 11 1902, p2. Cornish newspapers of the early 1900s are littered with examples of Jackett’s sailing prowess.
Image from: https://www.falmouthharbour.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/FH_Then-Now.pdf
Cornish Echo, May 26 1911, p7, and August 4, p5.
Cornish Echo, May 12 1905, p5.
Emmeline Medlin was born c1859, she and Thomas Jackett married in 1874. Information from Ancestry. That all five brothers played rugby is stated in Dick Jackett’s obituary, West Briton, July 28 1960, p14. Thomas Jackett’s obituary in the Cornishman (July 7 1938, p2), notes he was a life-member of Falmouth RFC. The Cornish Echo (August 15 1902, p5), states he was also a Vice President of the junior Falmouth One and All RFC, along with Henry Scott Tuke.
Information from 1901 and 1911 census, and Dick Jackett’s obituary in the West Briton, July 28 1960, p14.
Image from: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/tuke-henry-scott-head-of-johnny-jackett–741897738608095578/
Quote from: https://fortyfoot.livejournal.com/34942.html. For more on The Artist and Journal of Home Culture, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Artist_and_Journal_of_Home_Culture
Tuke’s election as Commodore is reported in the West Briton, September 14 1911, p4. For example, Thomas Jackett and Tuke both raced in the Portscatho Regatta (West Briton, August 18 1904, p2), and the Mylor Regatta (Commercial, Shipping and General Advertiser, August 26 1899, p3).
Henry Scott Tuke 1858-1929: Under Canvas, by David Wainwright and Catherine Dinn, Sarema Press, 1989, p56-60.
Wainwright and Dinn, Under Canvas, p56.
Tom White’s recollections of his summers with Tuke are available here: http://www.artcornwall.org/features/Tuke/Henry_Scott_Tuke_Tom_White.htm
Cornish Echo, July 20 1906, p5.
Image from: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/archive/items/tga-9019-1-4-6-5/photographer-unknown-photograph-showing-henry-scott-tuke-and-johnny-jackett-on-tukes-yacht
Wainwright and Dinn, Under Canvas, p56-60. For more information on the 2021 Tuke Exhibition, see: https://www.falmouthartgallery.com/Exhibitions/2021/1738~Henry_Scott_Tuke. I am grateful to Donna Westlake of Falmouth Art Gallery for her assistance.
From Henry Scott Tuke: A Memoir, by Maria Tuke Sainsbury, Martin Secker, 1933, p114.
The painting was described as such in Tuke’s obituary, Cornishman, March 14 1929, p7. August Blue was reproduced in the West Briton, March 21 1929, p10. The Daily Mirror of May 8 1914 (p16) shows a photograph of Tuke painting a naked Jackett on the beach.
Image from: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/tuke-august-blue-n01613
Image from: https://www.paintingmania.com/johnny-jackett-269_54834.html
For more on The Uranians, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uranians, and “The Cult of Homosexuality in England 1850-1950” by Noel Annan, Biography, Vol 13.3, 1990, p189-202.
For more on Horatio Brown, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horatio_Brown. His portrait can be seen here: https://www.tate-images.com/MB8353-Register-of-paintings-by-Henry-Scott-Tuke-Print-of.html
Wainwright and Dinn, Under Canvas, p60. For more on Nicholson, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gambril_Nicholson. Putting it bluntly, nowadays we would describe Nicholson as a paedophile.
Wainwright and Dinn, Under Canvas, p57.
Marriage information from Ancestry. Images from: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/archive/items/tga-9019-1-4-2-24/photographer-unknown-photograph-of-henry-scott-tuke-standing-with-johnny-jackett-seated, and https://www.tate.org.uk/art/archive/items/tga-9019-1-4-2-10/photographer-unknown-glass-negative-photograph-showing-henry-scott-tuke-and-johnny-jackett. Sallie’s memories of Tuke are mentioned in Wainwright and Dinn, Under Canvas, p57.
Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire 1875-1914, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1987, p302-327.
Sainsbury, Tuke: A Memoir, p123.
A concert held for the Falmouth Liberal Club saw Jackett come second in a billiards tournament. Cornish Echo, April 19 1901, p7.
See Tom White’s memories here: http://www.artcornwall.org/features/Tuke/Henry_Scott_Tuke_Tom_White.htm. Tuke’s love of cricket is recalled in Sainsbury, Tuke: A Memoir, p141-52.
The image is from Tuke’s diary, which can be viewed here: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/archive/items/tga-9019-1-1-1/diary-of-henry-scott-tuke/3
Cornish Echo, May 30 1896, p5, and September 20 1907, p8.
Dewsbury Reporter, March 10, 1928.
Cornish Echo, July 25 1896, p4.
Wrestling didn’t suit Jackett much either. Another youth dislocated his shoulder when he was ten. Lake’s Falmouth Packet, September 22 1888, p5.
Wainwright and Dinn, Under Canvas, p60. An avid rugby fan, Tuke was Vice President of Falmouth One and All RFC. Cornish Echo, August 15 1902, p5.
Images from: https://www.tate-images.com/preview.asp?item=MB8827&itemw=4&itemf=0001&itemstep=1&itemx=44, and https://www.falmouthartgallery.com/Collection/2015.8.111
Image from: https://saintpiranprocycling.com/news-stories/2020/3/9/saint-piran-2020-team-launch
Summarised from: Andrew Ritchie, “The Origins of Bicycle Racing in England: Technology, Entertainment, Sponsorship and Advertising in the Early History of the Sport”, Journal of Sport History, Vol. 26.3 (1999): p489-520, and David Rubinstein, “Cycling in the 1890s”, Victorian Studies, Vol. 21.1 (1977), p47-71.
See: https://www.britishcycling.org.uk/search/article/bc-50th-The-Story-behind-British-Cyclings-formation
For more on the birth of Camborne Rugby Club, see: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/08/26/cambornes-feast-day-rugby/
Cornish Echo, August 21 1869, p1.
Commercial, Shipping and General Advertiser, August 19 1871, p4; Royal Cornwall Gazette, May 8 1875, p5.
Image from: https://cornishnationalmusicarchive.co.uk/content/cornish-tea-treats-across-the-patch-t-z/
Cornish and Devon Post, June 15 1878, p5.
For example, Cornishman, December 19 1895, p7; and Lake’s Falmouth Packet, August 8 1896, p8.
Cornish and Devon Post, June 15 1878, p5; Cornubian and Redruth Times, October 29 1886, p7.
Cornish Telegraph, March 17 1881, p5, and June 2 1883, p7. For more on the Camborne-Redruth rivalry, see my post here: https://the-cornish-historian.com/2023/09/02/camborneredruth-the-oldest-continual-rugby-fixture-in-the-world-part-one/
Image from: https://www.oldvelodromes.co.uk/HTML%20tracks/625.html
Information from: https://www.oldvelodromes.co.uk/BookSmall.html. The Cornish Telegraph took issue with Penzance’s track on August 1 1889, p5.
Cornish Telegraph, August 1 1889, p5.
As noted in the Western Morning News, April 7 1896, p5.
The report of this meet is in the Cornish and Devon Post, June 27 1896, p8. Jackett’s name starts to appear in reports of cycle races from 1894: Cornish Echo, May 18 1894, p7.
To be sure, amateurs would not have raced with professionals – the gulf in quality would have probably been embarrassing. For more on the Victorian caste (or class) system of amateur and professional sportsmen, see: Andrew Ritchie, “The Origins of Bicycle Racing in England: Technology, Entertainment, Sponsorship and Advertising in the Early History of the Sport”, Journal of Sport History, Vol. 26.3 (1999): p489-520.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, August 8 1896, p8.
Image and information from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edwin_Durning-Lawrence
Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5.
Western Morning News, June 9 1898, p7.
Devon and Exeter Gazette, September 8 1897, p5.
Information from: Cornish Echo, April 23, p5; West Briton, May 6, p6, July 15, p10, July 22, p3, August 5, p7; Western Morning News, June 8, p6, June 17, p6, June 23, p7; Exeter Flying Post, September 4, p8; Sidmouth Observer, September 8, p5.
West Briton, July 15 1897, p6.
Cornishman, July 22 1897, p3.
Cornishman, September 9 1897, p3.
Cornish Echo, February 8 1901, p5.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, October 2 1897, p4.
Western Evening Herald, May 3 1898, p4.
Image from: https://www.greensonscreen.co.uk/argylehistory.asp?era=1902-1903_1
Cornish Post and Mining News, June 30 1898, p7.
Cornish Post and Mining News, July 7 1898, p7.
Cornish Echo, June 17 1898, p5.
See Dick Jackett’s obituary, West Briton, July 28 1960, p14. The brothers competed in the Portscatho Regatta: West Briton, August 18 1904, p2.
Leicester Daily Press, May 28 1906, p7.
Cornishman, September 6 1900, p6.
Lake’s Falmouth Packet, February 3 1900, p8.