The attorney John Pearse claimed that the arrangement with George Cutteford left one of his clients out of pocket, and the matter was disputed over many years. The sums involved were relatively small – £20 here, another £40 there – but they were substantial enough for John Pearse to refer his complaint against George Cutteford and his father-in-law to the Court of the Star Chamber in London.
For George Cutteford to be prosecuted in the Star Chamber was a serious matter indeed, and John Pearse is damning in his descriptions of the defendants’ misdealings, frequently referring to ‘corruption’, ‘guile’ and ‘fraud’. These are words not used lightly in appeals to the Star Chamber.23
THE STAR CHAMBER
The Star Chamber was named after the pattern of stars on the ceiling in the room where the court officials met in Westminster to hear appeals, petitions and matters of redress. The court had evolved from the courts of earlier monarchs, and the officials in the seventeenth century could pronounce any sentence except the death sentence. Punishments could be barbaric and seem medieval, frequently involving maiming the poor defendants in public, such as cutting off ears or noses, making the Star Chamber synonymous with cruelty and thereby very unpopular with the people. As ordinary courts of law evolved and became more systematic, the Star Chamber remained a powerful though anachronistic court of law, practically and legally distinct from any Parliament. By 1640, the Star Chamber would become notorious for imprisoning and torturing political prisoners without public trial or the need for witness testimony.
* * *
However, George Cutteford’s friendship with John Maynard seems to have rescued him. The Star Chamber referred the matter back to the local magistrate Elize Hele, an influential man who would become Treasurer to King James I, and who was himself a renowned philanthropist and close associate of John Maynard. The covering note to Elize Hele refers to ‘George Cutteford, your cousin’24, suggesting there was at least a distant relationship, probably between the Halse and the Hele families. Elize Hele arranged for an out-of-court settlement that admitted no guilt on behalf of the defendants but still ended the matter to everyone’s satisfaction.
This was not the first time George’s father-in-law had been in trouble. In 1595, Nicholas Halse was called to answer a complaint by a Mr Watts, an alderman of London.25 It seems that Nicholas Halse, the customs official, had obtained by guile some very precious ‘cochinella and indico’ from Mr Watts’ ship, the Jewel, and Nicholas was forced to make reparations to Mr Watts. Perhaps it was Nicholas Halse who got his son-in-law into trouble with the Star Chamber in the first place, for George Cutteford would soon be disassociating himself from his father-in-law’s corrupt activities.
THE CUTTERS OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
In the seventeenth century, life as a customs officer in south-west England was hard, constantly patrolling the coasts on the look-out for smugglers bringing in contraband or attempting to steal tin and other valuable commodities being transported.26 The first customs officers in England were appointed in 1294, and they acquired the nickname ‘cutters’ or ‘cutter men’ because the ships they used were Cutters; single-masted sloops, small but quick and easy to manoeuvre. They were regularly attacked by pirates in much larger sea-going vessels, so the Cutters were usually out-manned and out-gunned, and frequently had to withdraw.
It was a thankless task. Slave traders frequented the coastline, stealing people away to be sold in North Africa or the East, or to work the ships. Corsairs were another significant threat – privateers employed by the French government to raid foreign ships, including the English. If captured they would claim the rights of prisoners-of-war rather than be tried as criminals.
Customs officers were engaged in a constant war against these many raiders, fighting to secure the harbours from attack, retrieving captured slaves and searching ships for contraband, often out-manoeuvred by the French and the North African pirates, the latter frequently referred to as Turkish corsairs. To be a customs officer or ‘cutter’ you had to be quick-thinking and cunning, and always ready to fight.
The cutter men, however, had a bad reputation. They weren’t popular, certainly not with those locals who were benefiting from the pirates and smugglers, and they were also thought to be corrupt. Customs officials and those who employed them could make substantial amounts of money by pocketing bribes, taking percentages, and making some of the cargoes ‘disappear’. Customs and later excise, the inland taxes introduced in 1643, were seen by some as lucrative trades, despite the many dangers.
The coastlines of south west England, now popular with tourists for their pleasant beaches and peaceful surrounds, were in the seventeenth century hazardous and lawless places. From a modern perspective, customs officers and those then responsible for policing the harbours might be seen as sometimes using the law to their own advantage, but they were tough people working in a dangerous and volatile environment, defending an extensive coastline, and struggling to protect their own families, as well as the interests of the Crown.
* * *
From an early age, it seems, George Cutteford had influential friends. The Maynards certainly remained family friends. George’s marriage into the Halse family improved his social and economic status, but his father-in-law’s reputation was a disadvantage to a man with ambitions.
Historians have so far regarded George Cutteford as just an attorney caught up in the fight over the Fitz estates, innocently unaware or uninvolved in the financial misdealings that would eventually destroy his life. His experiences with John Pearse and his early work as a customs officer in dangerous circumstances, however, reveal a man who may have been struggling to stay honest. Living in a corrupt age, he learned to use his powerful friends and in-laws to his family’s advantage. The Pearse case shows that George Cutteford did not simply find himself an apprenticeship in Tavistock, but in fact started his career as a customs officer in Plymouth and married into the influential Halse family.
At an early age, George Cutteford seems to have shown considerable financial dexterity, which would have appealed to Sir William Courtenay (and his agent, Richard Halse) in their battles over Fitzford. When Richard Halse moved to Tavistock to secure Bridget Courtenay’s claim to the Fitz fortunes, sometime in 1596, his cousin, George Cutteford, was exactly the kind of man Halse needed to handle the violent John Fitz. George would have been pleased to have the opportunity to distance himself from his corrupt father-in-law.
Such success would have delighted George’s father, William, who could never have imagined his son rising to such status in society, simply through an initial friendship with John Maynard. George’s financial acumen would have been a credit to the family, delighted that their son had found himself a profession more secure than life at sea.
The journey to Tavistock, however, would prove to be a difficult and dangerous expedition.
Many historians believe that George Cutteford was just a local Tavistock attorney employed by Mary when she was about sixteen, but in fact it seems that George Cutteford was a customs officer who moved to Walreddon with his in-laws, the Halse family, at around the time of Mary’s birth. He was almost certainly there as an agent for Sir William Courtenay to secure the safety of Mary’s fortune by any means necessary.
It was a role that would cost George Cutteford his life.
Notes
1 Baring-Gould, 1908.
2 Some variations on the story say that Mary Howard must make her journey until the end of the world, or until every blade of grass has gone from Okehampton Park. I prefer the (probably more modern) version: when every blade of grass has gone from Okehampton Park, only then will the world end. The impossibility of removing every blade of grass means the world will never end, a message I personally prefer.
3 PROB 11/65, ‘The will of William Cuttiford, mariner, of Plymouth, 15th February 1582’ (or 1581 in the old calendar). Held at the National Archives, London. The surname is spelled Cuttiford throughout; it is likely George Cutteford
changed the spelling when he signed on for work as a customs officer. However, to save confusion, I have standardised the spelling as Cutteford.
4 PROB 11/285, ‘The will of George Cutteford the younger, 13th April 1645.’ Held at the National Archives, London. William Cuttiford’s will does not give his daughter’s name, but George Cutteford the younger bequeaths money to his aunt, Jane Donne, who I presume is his father’s sister. (Jane called her son George, making it less likely that she was a sister to Grace Cutteford.)
5 George Cutteford is registered as an attorney in Devon in 1607, in the research of the O’Quinn Law Library, University of Houston. See http://aalt.law.uh.edu/Attorneys/attpages/FullAttorneyList1607.html.
6 For a well-researched, wonderful description of the wars of King Henry VIII, see C.J. Sansom’s novel of the Tudor period, Heartstone, 2010.
7 See http://www.middletemple.org.uk/the_inn/History_of_the_Inn
8 Woodcock, 2008, Chapter 3, pp. 33-46.
9 See Greeves, 1987, for his excellent research into Devon’s tin-mining industry – any mistakes I make in the book are most definitely my own. For stories of Old Crockern, see, http://www.legendarydartmoor.co.uk/crockern_tor.html
10 Radford, 1890. The properties in the Fitz estate are also listed in document 2741 M/T/1, the deed poll of Dame Mary Grenville conveying her property to her son George Howard, dated 1661. Held at Devon Record Office.
11 Radford, 1890. Dr Tom Greeves also tells me there is a conduit house at Boughthayes which was built by Mary Fitz’s grandfather, Sir John Fitz.
12 Radford, 1890.
13 From the Public Record Office, on the website for the record summary of the Court of Wards and Liveries: ‘The terrible condition of many of the records of the Court of Wards and Liveries is explained by the fact that after the court’s demise they were kept in a fish yard near Westminster Hall. They were removed in the early eighteenth century to rooms next to the House of Lords belonging to Black Rod and from there to the Chapter House in 1732. They came from there to the Public Record Office in 1859-1860.’ See http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/catalogue/DisplayCatalogueDetails.asp?CATID=258&CATLN=1&FullDetails=True
14 There are discrepancies in the records available concerning the birth-date for Bridget Courtenay. Tudor place at www.tudorplace.com.ar gives her year of birth as around 1572, and her brother Francis and William were born 1576 and 1580 respectively. (See http://www.tudorplace.com.ar/COURTENAY2.htm#Bridget COURTENAY1) Other records state her year of birth as 1580, so she may have been fifteen or sixteen at the time of her marriage to John Fitz. Whatever her age, her father Sir William Courtenay was determined to ensure her safety, and the future ownership of the Fitz estates, by all possible means.
15 The Federation of Old Cornwall Societies gives an excellent account of the history of tax collection, stannary towns and the role of the Lord of the Stannaries. See http://smugglers.oldcornwall.org/index.html
16 Reproduced from my article on Okehampton Castle in Dartmoor Online magazine (www.dartmooronline.co.uk), with kind permission of the editors, Elisabeth Stanbrook and Dr Tom Greeves, MA, PhD. Also see Mildren, 1987 and Radford, 2002.
17 The Tavistock records show Richard Halse was very busy with land deals around Tavistock in the early seventeenth century, and document D1508M/Moger/388, held at Devon Record Office, is a conveyance of Walreddon Manor from Richard Halse and his wife Anna to Sir Francis Glanville and Edward Skitrett in 1623. Interesting to note that Mr Skitrett – or possibly Skirrett – was very likely related to the Cuttefords by marriage.
18 See James Courtenay’s confession to a shocking number of robberies and misdemeanours in 1538, with the thieves bought before Mr Halse, Under-Sheriff of Devon, at British History Online www.british-history.ac.uk, specific URL http://193.39.212.226/report.aspx?compid=75786
19 Richard Halse entered the Inner Temple on 14 February 1597. See their archive database: http://www.innertemple.org.uk/archive/itad/index.asp
20 Document 107/85c from 1615, held at Plymouth and West Devon Record Office, mentions Jerome and John, sons of Richard Halse.
21 STAC 8/230/27, Pearse vs Hals and Cutteford, 1614, held at the National Archives in London. There are a number of ways Halse is spelled in the records, including Hals and sometimes Hales. I have standardised it as Halse. Also, John Pearse is listed as an attorney in Devon, in the research of the O’Quinn Law Library, University of Houston. See http://aalt.law.uh.edu/Attorneys/attpages/FullAttorneyList1607.html,
22 STAC 8/230/27, Pearse vs Hals and Cutteford, 1614, held at the National Archives in London.
23 STAC 8/230/27, Pearse vs Hals and Cutteford, 1614, held at the National Archives in London.
24 STAC 8/230/27, Pearse vs Hals and Cutteford, 1614, held at the National Archives in London. I have discovered that the Heles and the Halses were related by marriage, so ‘cousin’ is an accurate description of George Cutteford’s relationship to Elize Hele.
25 See details of the case at British History Online, at http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=111643, 17 May, 1595.
26 Again, the Federation of Old Cornwall Societies gives an excellent account of the history of tax collection, smuggling, slavery, cutter men, and the stannaries. See http://smugglers.oldcornwall.org/index.html
Chapter Two
The Terror Begins
In June 1599, with John Fitz’s wife and child safely out of his way at nearby Walreddon, he invited some friends to his Fitzford manor to dine. The dinner lasted all night and descended into drunken revelry that lasted until noon the following day. The inebriated John Fitz boasted to the party that he was no tenant farmer. Every foot of land in all his estates, he declared, he owned in freehold. It belonged to his family forever. Nicholas Slanning, from nearby Bickleigh, tried to correct his host, saying that John actually owed him rent for a parcel of land which rightfully belonged to Slanning.1
John Fitz rose to his feet and drew his dagger in fury at being corrected. Slanning countered the attack with a dagger of his own – it may seem strange that these men kept their daggers close by them at parties, but of course knives were not standard tableware in Elizabethan times and guests would frequently use their own daggers to cut their meat. Still, attacking each other with dining implements over the table does seem ludicrous even for the late sixteenth century.
Slanning successfully defended himself, and their mutual friends managed to calm the situation, allowing Slanning and his servant to ride back towards Bickleigh.
On coming to a steep and rough descent, perhaps the Walkham river valley, Slanning let his servant walk the horses while he strolled home.2 Without warning, they were suddenly accosted by Fitz and his drunken cohorts, armed and on horseback, hell-bent on continuing the argument. Fitz demanded that Slanning’s insult be avenged and ordered his men to draw their swords and descend upon the poor man. Following a brief skirmish, Fitz and his men sheathed their swords and all seemed over – until one of Fitz’s men teased his friend with ‘What, child’s play? Come to fight and now put up your sword?’ Slanning was still wearing his long spurs and, stepping back, his foot caught in the ground. Sadly, at this same moment John Fitz, annoyed by his friend’s comment, chose to thrust his sword, and Slanning was brutally – if accidentally – killed.
The grave of Elizabeth I.
Nicholas Slanning’s death was just the first of many, often in mysterious circumstances, that would haunt the Fitz estates.
John Fitz rightly feared prosecution. The outcry against the killing of a good man like Nicholas Slanning was heard across the county, with Slanning’s memorial at Bickleigh well attended by concerned friends and devastated relatives. Fitz managed to escape to France until the Courtenay family, later that same year, secured a pardon from the Queen for the delinquent. John’s pardon would cost him the Fitz estate, which was entailed away from him to his wife Bridget – and thereafter, in a clever manipulation
of events, to the Courtenay family.
Unfortunately, the murder did nothing to change John Fitz’s ways. He returned as wilful, drunken and haughty as ever, much to the disappointment of the townsfolk and the Courtenays.
In 1603, James I came to the throne in some controversy. His mother, Mary Queen of Scots, had, after all, been executed by the previous monarch. By way of appeasement, James knighted all his allies and anyone of influence – about 400 members of the landed gentry were bribed with titles, including John Fitz.
Once back at Fitzford, though, Sir John refused to behave like a true knight, and joined ‘the wrong crowd’; his new-found friends included one notorious local criminal called Lusty Jack. John and his drunken associates wreaked havoc on the town. They broke windows, dragged men out of their beds, quarrelled in public houses and out into the street, and fought battles between themselves. One of the town’s constables was almost killed in the many skirmishes. John’s behaviour grew so scandalous that even his friends began to shun him. Fitzford manor fell into a state of disrepair – and Sir William Courtenay was furious.
KING JAMES I
In 1567, at just three months old, James was crowned James VI, King of Scots, after his mother Mary Queen of Scots was forced to abdicate; she was, of course, later executed by her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I. In 1603, he inherited the English throne, Elizabeth having died without issue. He was crowned James I of England and Scotland. A talented scholar, he had a dark interest in witchcraft, considering practitioners deserving of the death penalty.3
As a believer in the Divine Right of Kings, James considered his crown to have been given to him by God, and felt he was answerable only to God rather than Parliament. During his reign, he called Parliament only when he needed money to support his extravagant lifestyle.4 He was renowned for his many male liaisons, forming a particular regard for George Villiers, the handsome Duke of Buckingham. Whether they were actually lovers is still debated, though James was already old at forty-seven and becoming feeble when he first met Villiers. James’ descriptions of the handsome, dashing Villiers suggest that Villiers reminded James of his eldest son, Henry, who had tragically died young, leaving James’ sickly second son Charles as heir to the throne. George Villiers replaced the preferred son in James’ affections, giving Villiers a very strong influence over James’s court.
The Devil Comes to Dartmoor Page 3