Sir Richard would be known as ‘Skellum Grenville’ for the rest of his life, skellum meaning a rogue or rascal. Plymouth, commanded by Parliament’s forces and under siege by the Royalists, would soon resound with furious oaths directed at that ‘Skellum Grenville’.
Sadly, Grenville’s desertion occurred just as the King was proposing a peace treaty between his Oxford Parliament and the ‘rebels’ at Westminster. On the 9 March, however, the Westminster Parliament rejected a call for peace talks, and refused to recognise the legitimacy of the Oxford Parliament. No doubt they were still embittered and upset by Grenville’s traitorous behaviour and felt they couldn’t trust the King either.
As a reward to Grenville for his loyalty, the King sequestered all of the properties of the so-called outlaw Lady Howard and awarded them at last to Sir Richard, who was happily sent into Devon and Cornwall to recruit men there to the Royalist cause. Sir Richard’s recruitment drive would have to wait, however. First, he had a far more important task to perform.
In mid-March 1644, Sir Richard duly reported to Prince Maurice, the King’s nephew, who was in charge of the Royalist forces in the south west. Prince Maurice’s army was then stationed in Tavistock, having successfully subdued the town’s Puritan population, many of whom, including the Puritan minister George Hughes, had been forced to abandon their homes and taken refuge in Parliament’s Plymouth garrison.
Sir Richard’s first act under the King was to have Prince Maurice draw up a warrant for the arrest of his old enemy George Cutteford. The grounds for the arrest were that Cutteford had received large sums of money from lands now belonging to Sir Richard – though the charges were highly questionable, considering Sir Richard had had no oversight of the properties for some years. The warrant was presented by Sir Richard to the local Provost Marshall, overseeing all disciplinary matters in the armed forces, and a troop of soldiers was sent to Walreddon to arrest George Cutteford and throw his family off the property. Sir Richard probably personally supervised the arrest. His revenge had been a long time coming.
It was a bleak day in March 1644 for George Cutteford and his wife. Sir Richard and his men moved swiftly, quickly travelling the mile from Tavistock along the winding roads to Walreddon to surprise its residents.
Until that moment, George Cutteford had managed to remain out of the war, living quietly with his wife at a distance from the calamities affecting Tavistock. His sons George and John were away from home, battling against the Royalists; his daughters had all married and moved away; so it was just George Cutteford the elder, now in his fifties, and his wife Grace at home with the servants when Sir Richard’s small troop of horse arrived. They hammered on the back door of Walreddon, the one facing the road, and dragged Cutteford away.
Some say they immediately took Cutteford to Exeter to be imprisoned there at Rougemont Castle4, but the local Provost Marshall had no jurisdiction there, and the nearest gaol was Lydford. Lydford Gaol had been notorious for generations, and now it was George Cutteford who was brought in chains before the warden, and sent down the 30ft ladder into the black windowless pit below. His friends and family would not know where to look for him. It was in the pit of Lydford Gaol that Sir Richard Grenville wanted George Cutteford to die.
LYDFORD GAOL
Lydford Castle was established as the gaol for the Stannaries in 1305. It had been built as a prison in 1195, as the centre of administration for Dartmoor, with its own courthouse, and subsequently the Stannary Court regularly sent criminals to be held at Lydford. Most crimes involved debt or the theft of tin or other metals, though in 1306 a tin miner called Walter Wallyngs was imprisoned at Lydford for murder. Over the centuries, many tinners found their way to Lydford Gaol5, with local people frequently protesting the incarceration of friends and relatives. At first, the building was said to be in satisfactory condition, and a payment to the gaoler could often afford some comfort, but by the sixteenth century the prison had fallen into disrepair and was described as the most detestable place in England.
Many complained of the misconduct of the gaolers, starving the prisoners and treating them brutally. In the early seventeenth century, Richard Foster from Ugborough reported his gaolers to the Star Chamber, following his imprisonment at Lydford. Foster described being lowered into a dungeon, a filthy pit, with no light or chance of a fire for heat. The floor beneath the wall where he was chained was just a few boards suspended over a 30ft deep pit well in the western corner. It was a terrifying prospect for any man who lost his footing in the pitch dark.
In 1638, King Charles I sent funds and supplies of wood for repairs to be made to Lydford Gaol. Perhaps he intended to have conditions there improved, but his motives were also to ensure that the gaol remained a secure and terrifying prospect to anyone who might consider stealing from his mines. Money was his prime motivation; certainly not the comfort of his prisoners. Lydford Castle remained the stuff of nightmares.
The horror of Lydford Gaol culminated in the arrival of Sir Richard Grenville in 1644, infamous for his cruelty to the prisoners. Scores of innocent men from Tavistock died at Lydford, at the hands of Grenville’s gaolers. Contemporary accounts describe travelling the road past Lydford to hear the cries of men, desperate for food and water, dying slowly in the decrepit and noxious castle. Located in what was at one time a substantial town on the edge of Dartmoor, just off the road between Tavistock and Okehampton, it was never more than a square stone fortress, a few storeys over basement dungeons, but for hundreds of men it became their final resting place. John Bond in January 1645 described Lydford prison:
In this prison, diverse debtors have been starved, and some were said to eate their own flesh, even in those times of peace and plenty. Guesse yee then, what cries and yells for bread and water there are now to be heard amongst the many scores which at present are shut up in that straight prison? Yea, the passengers doe heare the cries, ere they see the prison...6
The neighbouring Castle Inn is said to be haunted by gaolers from Lydford, unable to leave as penance for the horrors of their actions. The last man to die at Lydford was left in chains on the outer walls, his body coated in pitch to preserve it, as a warning to everyone of the consequences of crossing Sir Richard Grenville.7
* * *
Sir Richard’s revenge against Cutteford was just the first of his barbaric actions in Devon. He set about avenging himself against all his former enemies and their friends, and at the same time making as much money as possible. The more men died, the more Grenville’s fortunes prospered.
Having imprisoned Cutteford, Sir Richard then sought out a man called Brabant who had acted as an attorney on behalf of Mary Howard and the Earl of Suffolk in their court battles against him. Mr Brabant was soon discovered, desperately trying to escape Devon in disguise: he was wearing a monteroe, a hunting cap made of Spanish cloth often worn by the Royalist soldiers. But Sir Richard recognised him in the street and immediately had him hanged as a spy. Sir Richard’s Royalist allies questioned his motives for the summary execution, but Mr Brabant was probably still working for the Earl of Suffolk, then James Howard, who was fighting for Parliament; Sir Richard was probably right in his assumptions that Brabant was a spy. However, it was a brutal killing and both sides were horrified by Sir Richard’s actions.
At the same time, Sir Richard decided to raise some much-needed money by kidnapping wealthy men, locking them up in Lydford Gaol and ransoming them back to their families. He also locked up hundreds of enemy soldiers there, including Lieutenant-Colonel James Halse, a distant relation of George Cutteford, who had been fighting on the side of Parliament. It was said that Richard Grenville personally visited Lydford to try to convince James Halse to change sides, but when James refused, Sir Richard left him there to starve to death.
The Tavistock poet William Browne visited his friend James Halse there in 1644, and, horrified by the conditions and the imminent death of his friend, he wrote the famous words: ‘I oft have heard of Lydford law/ How in the morn t
hey hang and draw/ And sit in judgement after.’8
Sir Richard’s reputation for murder and plundering grew rapidly. Having failed to make his money through marriage and the courts, he now immersed himself in a life of the worst kind of piracy. And with the country locked in Civil War, there was no one to stop him. The King needed hard men to fight his war, and gave Sir Richard full rein to do as he pleased. Richard knew he was accountable to no one but himself now and took full advantage of his new situation.
Sir Richard sequestered the property of the Earl of Bedford, Sir William Russell, who was at that time working for Parliament, and reclaimed all of his wife’s property around Tavistock, despite the protests of the Courtenays.
The young Sir William Courtenay, just sixteen, and his kinsman Peter Courtenay happened to be amongst the Royalist forces then besieging nearby Plymouth, and when Sir William objected to Sir Richard Grenville at the loss of what he saw as his property, including Fitzford manor, Sir Richard had the poor boy arrested and taken to Exeter in chains.
While Sir Richard ransacked Tavistock, nearby Plymouth was under siege by Royalist forces under the command of Sir Kenneth Digby. Digby invited his ally to dine with him. On his return from Digby’s house, escorted by a few Royalist cavalrymen, Grenville encountered a small number of Parliamentary soldiers foraging for fuel. In an infamous episode, Sir Richard ordered one of the Parliamentary soldiers to hang his fellows from the nearest tree. Sir Richard contentedly watched, enjoying the spectacle. Once the horrible task was completed, Sir Richard got down from his horse and hanged the last man himself. Again, Grenville’s Royalist allies were horrified, realising that Sir Richard had brought ‘Trim Law’ back with him from Ireland.
Sir Richard was a man of consequence without a conscience – the war was turning him into a monster. Hanging Englishmen without trial, even the enemy, was seen as a barbaric and unnecessary cruelty, but still the King continued his support for his heroic General. Sir Richard’s taste for vengeance did not end there.
Sir Kenneth Digby was wounded in a fierce skirmish against the Plymouth garrison, and command of the Royalist forces subsequently fell to Sir Richard. The Plymouth garrison had successfully held out against the Royalists since war had been declared in 1642, having been making preparations for such a siege from as early as 1640. Its predominantly Puritan population saw their fight against King Charles as a godly war, and they held out even as the rest of Devon was overrun with Royalist soldiers.
As refugees fled to Plymouth from all over Devon, joined by soldiers arriving from London to defend the town, the population of Plymouth swelled to over 8,000. The town was then located in the square mile that is the ‘old town’ of the Barbican today, around Sutton Pool docks.
Grace Cutteford and her family were probably among the swelling population, having, like many, fled the terror of Richard Grenville. Repeatedly the leat that brought fresh water9 was blocked by Royalist forces, and disease became a constant threat, but Plymouth’s population worked tirelessly, men, women and children alike, repairing earthworks, feeding and supplying the soldiers defending the forts, and tending the wounded.
The overcrowded people of Plymouth were desperate, but not defeated, as the Plymouth harbour was so wide that Royalist cannon could not prevent Parliament’s ships entering the port, bringing with them much needed supplies and reinforcements from London. As ships from Plymouth regularly attacked Royalist vessels along the south-west coast, the Royalists desperately needed to take Plymouth and so destroy this Parliamentary stronghold.
On 18 March 1644, Sir Richard sent a letter to the Governor at Plymouth, impressing upon the people of Plymouth the insecurity of their situation, and urging them to surrender. They refused, rejecting any quarter from ‘Skellum Grenville’ and announcing that they would rather have him as their enemy than their ally – a direct attack on his treacherous behaviour just a few weeks earlier.
During the next four months, Sir Richard ordered numerous attacks against the Plymouth garrison, with little success. The Plymouth forces had had plenty of time to establish a line of forts north of the town, along a natural ridge that runs 4 miles east to west. The names of the forts still resound in areas of Plymouth, such as Pennycomequick, Lipson and Maudley (now called Mutley Plain).
Between the forts, the Plymouth garrison built substantial earthworks, so even when desperately short of men they were able successfully to repel Grenville’s attacks. Sir Richard battled on, but Plymouth stood its ground, frequently having great success in their own sorties against smaller Royalist forces in precarious outposts surrounding the harbour.
The Royalists set about plundering Plympton, to the south east of Plymouth, and the Plymouth garrison sent two units of horse and foot soldiers to attack them. George Cutteford the younger was probably amongst them. The Parliamentary forces managed to kill sixty of Sir Richard’s men and captured 100 others. On their return to Plymouth they were pursued by Sir Richard and his men, but he was also beaten back, nearly getting himself killed in the attempt.
Sir Richard’s lack of success probably stemmed from a shortage of men and supplies. Other battles in the south west were frequently drawing Royalist forces away from the siege, while the Plymouth garrison could often boast 3,000 soldiers. Sir Richard’s forces were never large enough to counter that number. Sir Richard sent begging letters to his friends, including Edward Seymour, Governor of Dartmouth, in his desperate need for reinforcements and weaponry.
While Sir Richard was locked in a stalemate at Plymouth, he was shocked by news that Parliament’s army was heading into the west with a force of 8,000 men commanded by the Earl of Essex. To counter the attack, Prince Maurice gathered a Royalist army at Okehampton, depleting Grenville’s forces at Plymouth. But rather than face the Royalists at Okehampton, Essex cleverly turned south and rapidly headed for Plymouth instead. One of the most surprising aspects of the Civil War is just how fast an army of 8,000 with heavy artillery could move across the country.
Sir Richard, outnumbered, had less than four days to remove his men from his outposts in Tavistock and around Plymouth and retreat to Cornwall, but for some reason he delayed his retreat for as long as possible – he was very nearly taken by Essex. Once in Cornwall, Grenville set about recruiting troops and stealing whatever horses and arms he could find. Throughout the Civil War, horses were a valuable and frequently rare commodity.
Essex’s forces reached Tavistock in July 1644, where Grenville had hurriedly left a garrison of 150 of his men at Fitzford. Essex immediately attacked the house and, although the garrison tried to surrender, waving a white flag, Essex blasted the house with cannon and his men stormed the building. They plundered anything and everything of any value.
Essex is said to have then made his way to Lydford to release the Parliamentary prisoners there – but George Cutteford, it seems, was not amongst them.
Sadly, Cutteford was already on his way to Exeter. It must have been an odd day for Sir William Courtenay, still languishing in Rougemont Castle in Exeter, when his family’s agent was dragged into the cells, in chains. Why Cutteford was transferred to Rougemont at that time may never be known. Perhaps Richard Grenville, on hearing the news of Exeter’s approach, had hastily had George moved to Exeter, a more secure location taken by the Royalists the year before, after a long siege.
Grenville certainly didn’t want Cutteford released by the Parliamentary forces. He might even have delayed his retreat specifically to clear Lydford Gaol of any embarrassing prisoners, especially any Royalist allies still held for ransom. The Governor of Exeter, Sir John Berkeley, a loyal Royalist, may have simply requested that Cutteford be transferred from Lydford to Exeter, but his reasons remain lost to history.
For Cutteford, though, Rougemont Castle was no better than Lydford Gaol. Rougemont too was a detestable prison, cold, damp and dark. Food in Exeter remained scarce, now the city was frequently under siege by Parliament, and in the overcrowded houses, disease was rife. At least George Cuttefor
d was away from the tormenting guards at Lydford, no longer daily threatened with summary execution – many were often hanged without trial at Lydford, just because they were running out of food. At least Cutteford was less likely to be executed in Exeter – if he didn’t die of starvation or disease first.
For four long months, George Cutteford had heard nothing of his family, or of whether they were alive or dead. Cutteford had watched others die around him at Lydford: many were tortured and hanged, and he knew that he was lucky still to be alive, but the fate of his family must have been ever-present in his thoughts. He knew his sons were fighting for Parliament, and that Sir Richard Grenville was eager to find them and have them killed, but he had no idea of the horrors they were to suffer.
Plymouth sent 2,000 men to join Essex’s army, now a force of over 8,000 that probably included George Cutteford’s sons. Their mood was optimistic, confident that this was the army that would re-take Devon and Cornwall from the Royalists. Essex’s forces, joined by Lord Robartes from Plymouth, chased the retreating Grenville into Cornwall. Parliament was delighted with Essex’s success, one commentator declaring:
His excellency under the conduct of the noble, honest and active Lord Robartes sent a party of horse into Cornwall to pursue the running, run-away Grenville, who flies like guilty Cain from every shadow, frightened by his fancies and tormented by a prickling, galled conscience for symptoms of misery, a hell within and a halter at Westminster that makes the man as mad as a March hunted hare.10
In fact, nothing could have been further from the truth, for Grenville was drawing Essex into an ambush. Pursuing Grenville, Essex suddenly found the King and his army of 10,000 behind him, approaching from the east. Essex’s forces were suddenly trapped by Royalist armies on all sides.
The Devil Comes to Dartmoor Page 13