Such a sight, of course, would have had the opposite effect on the hearts and minds of the Parliamentarian reserve as they peered down from the hill’s summit. And when, towards the end of the afternoon, all four Royalist columns converged on the crest, the Roundhead ranks finally capitulated.
Despite traditional accounts of the battle, I have taken the view that the Earl of Stamford arrived late on to the field that day. It is said he kept his cavalry – those not engaged at Bodmin – in reserve at the top of the hill, but my contention is that it was not possible for more than a hundred horsemen to gather on the summit alongside five thousand pikemen and musketeers and not become embroiled in the fighting. The area is simply too small. Moreover, it was the cavalry – seemingly intact after the fight – that escorted Stamford to the safety of Bideford. My contention is that Stamford was not there until the latter stages of the battle – certainly too late to affect its outcome – and effectively turned his cavalrymen around when he saw the day was lost.
But present or not, one thing is certain; the Earl of Stamford’s grand army was destroyed. Three hundred Parliamentarians lay dead on the slopes of what is now known as Stamford Hill, while 1,700 prisoners were taken. The Royalists captured all thirteen Parliamentarian cannon and a large quantity of powder and ammunition. Most crucially, Hopton’s victory secured Cornwall for the king.
The Cornish army was famous for its reckless bravery, its savagery in battle, and its sheer bloody-mindedness. But above all else, it was – and is – best known for the charismatic men who marched at its head. Chief of these was the Somerset MP, Sir Ralph Hopton, later Lord Stratton, but the Cornish, perhaps more than any other regional army, were fiercely loyal to their own ‘home-grown’ commanders. It is fair to say that Hopton’s achievements might never have come to pass were it not for the support of local leaders such as Godolphin, Slanning, and Trevanion. But of those well-known Cornishmen, perhaps the most famous remains Sir Bevil Grenville.
Grandson of the Elizabethan hero Sir Richard Grenville, captain of the Revenge, Bevil Grenville inherited large estates in Cornwall and became an ardent Royalist, serving in the king’s bodyguard during the Bishop’s Wars of the late 1630s. At the outbreak of civil war he raised an army of infantrymen, which, under his leadership, became one of the most effective fighting units in the early campaigns of the English Civil War. Grenville, in turn, achieved something of a talismanic status amongst his men. Indeed, without Grenville’s personal endorsement of Sir Ralph Hopton, the general might never have enjoyed the loyalty of his Cornish troops.
At the Battle of Stratton, Grenville’s brigade, as I describe in the book, probably made the most rapid advance. To a modern reader it may seem as though my depiction of Grenville fighting on foot, becoming entangled in a press of pike, and then marching on despite his injuries, might be a little far-fetched. But Grenville had ‘previous’. At the Battle of Braddock Down in January 1643 he had been at the head of his men in an uphill charge that won the day for the Royalists. Moreover, at the rout at Sourton Down it was Grenville’s last stand that saved Hopton’s army from complete annihilation.
But all would not go well for the dashing Cavalier. In the summer of 1643 the Cornish army joined forces with a detachment from Oxford and marched eastwards against Sir William Waller. At the Battle of Lansdown, near Bath, the Royalist cavalry was routed, but, true to form, Grenville led a counterattack against the Parliamentarian position at the top of the hill. The manoeuvre was again successful, forcing Waller to withdraw, but Grenville was wounded by a halberd blow to the skull. He died the following day.
At his side to the end was another man whose life – and physique – seem stranger than fiction. Anthony Payne, the Cornish Giant, was a real figure. Born in the manor house on the Grenville estate, now known as the Tree Inn, he was taken into the Grenville household and excelled in both academic subjects and at sports. By the time he was twenty-one it is said that he was 7 feet, 2 inches tall, and later grew a further two inches. But games and academia were to fall by the wayside for Payne, who, by the time war was declared, had become Sir Bevil’s bodyguard. He was a key figure in recruiting, organizing, and leading Grenville’s force, and must have been a truly formidable sight on the field of battle.
He was, as described in Hunter’s Rage, in the thick of the fight at Stratton, and it does not take a great deal of imagination to picture his imposing figure cutting a swathe through the enemy ranks. But it seems proper to note that he stayed behind long after the battle to help bury the dead. Moreover, the fearsome warrior even showed great compassion for one badly wounded Parliamentarian, taking him home to be nursed back to health.
I am reluctant to say more of Payne’s contribution to the war, for Stryker may meet him again in due course, but his story is certainly a remarkable one, and I am pleased to say that he survived to see the Restoration of the Monarchy. Upon Charles II’s return from exile, John Grenville, Sir Bevil’s son, received great reward for his steadfast support, including money, the Earldom of Bath, and several other lofty positions. He duly appointed Anthony Payne as Halberdier of the Guns at Plymouth.
Upon retirement, Payne returned to his old home at Stratton, affording himself time to rest and to enjoy his ‘daily allowance’ of a gallon of wine! When he died in 1681, his coffin was so large that it had to be taken out of a hole cut into the ceiling and lowered to the ground!
Though the Cornish Giant most certainly existed, the same cannot be said of some of the book’s other figures. Colonel Wild is pure invention. So too are Cecily Cade, Erasmus Collings and, I’m sad to say, Seek Wisdom and Fear the Lord Gardner.
Osmyn Hogg and José Ventura are also figments of my imagination, but witch-hunters most certainly existed across Europe and the colonies of New England at this time. The most famous, of course, is Matthew Hopkins, the self-styled witch-finder general, who plied his dark trade across Essex in the latter part of the 1640s. He employed many of the tactics used by Hogg, including walking, swimming, and pricking the accused, and was ultimately responsible for the deaths of more than a hundred people. Perhaps Stryker and he will meet as the Civil War Chronicles progress.
As for the locations in Hunter’s Rage, the only fictional setting is Gardner’s Tor. But anyone wishing to ‘see’ where Stryker made his stand would do well to visit Hound Tor, to the east of Dartmoor. It is a truly atmospheric place – indeed, it is said to be the inspiration for Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles – and I confess to using it as a model for Gardner’s Tor.
Captain Stryker will return.
Hunter's Rage: Book 3 of The Civil War Chronicles Page 47
