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March, 2013:

Thomas Coram (1668-1751)

On the 14th of August 1739 a charter incorporating the Hospital for the “Maintenance and Education of Exposed and Deserted Young Children” was signed by King George II. This was the culmination of seventeen years of determined campaigning by Thomas Coram, who was concerned about the number of abandoned and dying children on the streets of the capital. On a bleak November day in the same year in a room at Somerset House, London, the Governors of the Foundling Hospital convened for their first meeting.

We have to search his later correspondence for glimpses into the early years of Thomas Coram. He was born in Lyme Regis and we believe he was the son of John Coram who was in the merchant shipping business and traded from Lyme Regis.  John Coram was baptised in 1629; his wife, Spes, died in 1677. Thomas wrote that his mother had died when he was a young boy; his father had remarried and moved to Hackney. Thomas went to sea when he was eleven and later his father apprenticed him to a shipwright.
 
At the age of 24 he was appointed by the government to audit tonnage and supply transports for Ireland and this brought him to the attention of some London merchants, who put him in charge of a plan to establish a new shipyard in Boston, Massachusetts. The colony was Puritan and Coram was an Anglican; he acquired enemies and an attempt was made on his life during the ten years he was there. He married Eunice Wayte on the 27th of June 1700. Correspondence with his wife’s family suggests it was a happy marriage but childless.

Coram returned to England in 1704. His interest in the North American colonies led him to identify Boston’s need for a lighthouse and fraud in contracting navel stores from there.  In 1712 he was elected to a role in the private enterprise, Trinity House, which combined public responsibilities with charitable works. He was considered a diligent and reliable public servant as well as a businessman. In 1735 Horace Walpole told his brother Robert, then Prime Minister, that Coram was the “honestest, the most disinterested and the most knowing person about the plantations I ever talked with.”

In England he pursued his business and charitable interests from his home at Rotherhithe. He regularly travelled into the city and on those journeys he saw abandoned, dying and dead children on the streets. In 1722 his moral and civic spirit compelled him to take action.

He had a wealth of experience and many acquaintances, some of them with great influence while he had persistence; against him was his rough-manner and rather blunt way of speaking. Initially there was little interest in his attempts to promote a foundling hospital – indeed, some were positively hostile to the idea on the grounds that it would encourage more illegitimate births.

The situation improved in 1729 with the ‘ladies petition,’ which was signed by peeresses and had the patronage of Queen Caroline, but it took until the 21st of July 1737 for Coram’s petitions to be laid before the king in council. A committee of the Privy Council was set up to consider the proposal, while Coram was given the responsibility for finding the first governors.

It was Coram who looked for suitable sites for the hospital, designed its seal and researched similar institutions in Europe. The hospital opened on the 25th of March 1741 at a site in Hatton Garden. The first two children to be baptised were named Thomas Coram and Eunice Coram (it was usual for children to be given a new name when they entered the hospital). Mothers left a token to identify their child should they wish to claim them later.

Coram’s involvement in the governance of the hospital ended in 1742 under a cloud: he was said to have been indiscreet in his criticisms of other Governors and how the hospital was run. A new hospital was built at Lamb’s Conduit Fields and began to receive children in October of 1745.  The hospital continued into the 20th century, moving out of London to Berkhamstead in Berkshire in 1926; it finally closed as a hospital in 1954. Over the centuries the institution cared for over 25,000 children; the ideals and work continue to this day as the children’s charity known appropriately as “Coram”.

The Foundling Hospital prospered and surprisingly became a meeting place for fashionable society, who by then supported the project. People came to admire works of art donated by prominent artists such as William Hogarth, Francis Hayman and Joseph Highmore; George Frederic Handel organised annual concerts at the hospital from 1750.

Thomas Coram’s career had been at the sharp-end of life. Hands-on, dealing mostly with ordinary men, he was not equipped with the airs and graces necessary to mix easily with London society in the 18th century; his bluntness and straight-forward speaking did not sit comfortably with those he wished to gain influence with.  Nevertheless, his achievements were significant: Boston harbour had a new lighthouse, the Georgia trustees permitted female inheritance, and a civil settlement was established in Nova Scotia. All these things Coram had campaigned for.

In his good works he often used his own resources, with little thought for his own needs. He was not ashamed to admit “in my old age, I am poor.” However, his friends and supporters raised a pension to see him through his last years free from want.

Sir William Martyn of Athelhampton

Lord Mayor of London?

Promotion to the nobility came late in life for William Martyn, which is not to belittle his achievements earlier in life. He was actively engaged in administration for the government at a local level; he was at various times a Commissioner for the Peace, his name appears as a witness on many local documents and in 1492 a William Martyn was the Steward of Dorchester. He was Collector of Customs and Subsidies in Poole in 1473 and 1476, a position his father had held in 1449 and later his son and heir, Christopher, in 1499.  A licence to import wine was granted to him in 1486, suggesting he was a merchant as well as being a member of the landed gentry and a sheep farmer.

He was born in 1446 and inherited the manor of Athelhampton and estates in Somerset at the death of his father, Thomas Martyn, on the 14th of September 1485. The standing of the Martyn family in Dorset was on a par to that of the Trenchards and Strangeways; in short William Martyn was a figure of importance in Dorset society of the day. We think it unlikely this busy member of the Dorset gentry could have found time in 1492/3 to hold and fulfil the duties of the office of the Lord Mayor of London, a role credited to him by most commentators from the usually reliable Royal Commission on Historical Monuments to the less reliable Wikipedia and most in between.

The Evidence

A trustworthy source nearer to the events of those days, Hutchins, makes no mention of Sir William Martyn holding the position of Lord Mayor of London – neither does an earlier source, Coker’s Survey of Dorset.  

In 1495 a Licence was issued by Henry  VII: “To William Martyn, gentleman, and his heirs, to enclose and fortify their manor at Alampston, co. Dorset, with walls of stone and lime, and to build towers within the said manor and crenellate the same and to impark and inclose with pales 100 acres of their lands called ‘Adlampson Parc’ and 60 acres called ‘le Est’ and le Mydell Closes’ belonging to the said manor and make a park thereof so than none shall enter the said park or warren to course or take anything which belongs to park or warren under a forfeiture of 101”.
 
Hutchins says the father of William Martyn of Athelhampton was called Thomas; elsewhere it is stated that William Martyn, Lord Mayor of London, was the son of Walter Martyn of Hertford. Furthermore, the Chronicles of London report that William Martyn, Alderman, was knighted in 1494, but in the licence granted to William Martyn of Athelhampton in 1495 and mentioned above he is referred to as a gentleman and this continues to be the case until 1501.

We might also question why separate general pardons were granted for offences prior to March 1502: one to William Martyn of Athelhampton, co. Dorset, knight and another to William Martyn, knight and alderman, a citizen of London. Another pardon roll refers to one Richard Martyn, gentleman, skinner or merchant of the staple as being “son and heir of William Martyn knight, late alderman of London.” The heir to Sir William Martyn of Athelhampton was named Christopher; William’s second son was named Richard and is later referred to as Richard Martyn of Exeter, not London.

Then there is the matter of the Wills. Sir William Martyn of Athelhampton died in 1504. According to The Chronicles of London Sir William Martyn, described as a “skinner and late mayor”, died in October 1505. In the Will of Sir William Martyn of Athelhampton many Dorset place names are mentioned but there is no reference at all to London. In “The Index of Wills Proved in the Prerogative Court of Canterbury” a will was proved in 1504 of a Sir William Martyn of Puddletown, Dorset. A further will was proved in 1505, that of Sir William Martyn of St. Christopher’s, London.

Conclusion

All the evidence points to there being two men who shared the same name, rank and importance within their own communities yet certainly nothing we have found detracts from the status and respect afforded of Sir William Martyn of Athelhampton.

Robert Battiscombe (1752-1839) – Royal Apothecary

The Battiscombe family moved to west Dorset in 1452, when John Battiscombe purchased the farm at Vere Wotton (sometimes called Verse) about a mile from the market-town and sea-port of Bridport.  It was here on the 3rd of October 1752 that a boy hesitantly came into the world, apparently showing little appetite for life and unimpressed by the prospect of being born into the Dorset gentry. Ahead of him, though, was a long and prosperous journey that would include over forty years of service to his sovereign, King George III.
 
Peter and Lydia Battiscombe, the boy’s parents, were so concerned their son would not survive the day that they sent for the vicar. Sensing the urgency of their message, he hurried to the child, who had been given the name Robert. At a private ceremony in the family home the clergyman received Robert into the church. Before leaving, father and churchman held a whispered conversation about burial arrangements for the child. Several weeks later, having won his battle for life, Robert Battiscombe was presented by grateful parents to the congregation of the Parish Church of St. Mary’s, Bridport, and baptised.

For his early education Robert was sent to a school at Crewkerne, then in 1766 he went to Eton as a King’s Scholar; he stayed for three years. At the age of seventeen he was apprenticed for five years to the apothecary George Hailes of Hill Street, Berkeley Square, Middlesex, for a fee of £157.10s.0d.

Sometime before 1780 Robert moved to Windsor, where he set up in business and opened an apothecary’s shop in the town. Here he married and brought up five sons: Richard, Robert, William, Henry and Christopher, all of which followed their father to Eton and were ordained, except Christopher, who died in infancy. There was also a daughter, Myra. From time to time Robert would return to Eton to celebrate the achievements of his sons, for there is a note in his papers: “Attended the Speaker at Eton….their Majesties and the Princesses were present”.

A memoranda book and some of his accounts have survived; they reveal he was supplying medicines, attending and treating the King and other members of the Royal Household from 1780, several years before the onset of the King’s malady, which these days is often referred to as the madness of King George.

The quarterly account of bills for services to the Prince of Wales was regularly over £50. There were similar accounts for the Queens: from April 1782 to July 1784 the total was £346.14s.3d. Bills for the following quarter amounted to over £400. In 1810 the Queen’s and Princesses accounts came to a little less than £600; Princess Amelia was very ill and the apothecary attended her until her death in November and received £300 from the King for his services. The memoranda book records that in 1786 he had bled Princess Amelia six times. In 1787 he bled the Prince of Wales in April and in June he bled the Princess Royal twice and Princess Amelia three times and in July he also bled Princess Mary.

October 1788 saw the onset of the King’s illness.  At the suggestion of Dr. Warren the apothecary attended the King on 30th of October and the 1st and 4th of November, when he “cupped his Majesty” and on the last visit “applied blisters to the head”. On the 5th of November and then at regular four-nightly intervals Robert Battiscombe was on duty and always noted in his diary which doctor was in waiting.  In December he several times had to dress the blisters on the King’s legs and on the 25th he played drafts with the King.  Battiscombe was on duty all through January and notes that on the 13th “saw the King, talked of having his music sent down to him”; a fortnight later he “talked about his horses, music etc.” By mid-February he notes “thought him much better”. He had an hour’s conversation with the King on the 14th and noted “appears nearly well”. On the 27th the apothecary was told through an equerry “that my further attendance at Kew House is from this day dispensed with”; yet on 2nd of March he bled the King again. He goes on to record that for these and other services “his Majesty made me a present of £100”.

In 1793 there is a note about another of the Princesses: “Princess Sophia has had hysteric fainting for weeks. Tried all kinds of private medicines without effect”.   From time to time in his memoranda book it is noted that he felt the King’s pulse.

In May 1805 Robert Battiscombe was sworn in as Apothecary in Ordinary at a fee of £38.13s.2d. From this time he received many presents from members of the royal family: from Princess Amelia a silver watch and a bread basket;  from Princes Sophia a silver tea caddy; from Princes Augusta  a silver inkstand  and Princes Mary gave him an egg cup and four spoons and on another occasion a coffee pot stand and lam. Princess Elizabeth presented him with a muffin dish and cover. He also received from King George a watch and from the Queen a kettle and a lamp, for his care of Princess Amelia.

Bills rendered for services to the Royal establishments were usually paid four months in arrears. However, in 1808 Robert Battiscombe had to chase-up payment of his bills.  To the King he wrote “With the most profound respect….to lay my case before Your Majesty and to state that my bills for medicines for the use of your Majesty, their Royal Highnesses, the Princesses and your Royal Household are twenty quarters in arrears. That the bills have been delivered into the proper office vouched by Sir Frances Millman….I presume to suppose there may be some delay in the official department, which encourages me to lay my case at your Majesty’s feet.”

During 1810 Robert Battiscombe sat with the King every fifth night. This attendance started in October and lasted till mid-April 1811, when his salary was increased to £300. In 1811 he gave up his business at Windsor but he continued to serve as Royal Apothecary and his appointment was confirmed by King Geoge IV, though there are few entries in his memoranda book for his later years.

The Apothecary could afford to extend a little credit to his Sovereign. He came from landed gentry and in 1798 inherited property in Dorset and Somerset. His papers show he was a shrewd businessman who occasionally invested in shares. He was no stranger to the county of his birth and frequently travelled to Bridport on family business.

Robert Battiscombe’s death was registered at Windsor during the first quarter of 1839. On his death the gifts he received from the King and members of the Royal Family were weighed and divided equally among his children.

George III and Weymouth

An event 223 years ago, when it became the summertime resort of a king, converted an already popular seaside resort on the Dorset coast into a world-renowned watering place, now one of the most popular in England among holidaymakers.  KING GEORGE III came to Weymouth to convalesce in 1789, and returned many times over the next 16 years.  He bathed in the sea every morning, from a bathing cart, a copy of which can be seen at Weymouth Museum. No other bathers were allowed in the vicinity.

Gloucester Lodge was built on the seafront in 1780 and was to become the summer palace of the King.  Adjoining the Gloucester Hotel, the lodge has suffered from fire but has now been rebuilt – and is now lived in by flat-dwellers.   But though now regarded in a matter-of-fact manner, the King who brought prosperity and encouraged Georgian architecture is not forgotten.  A statue to George III was erected in 1809 by the inhabitants on a traffic island in the centre of the Esplanade, where Weymouth’s benefactor could not be forgotten, and past which frequent stagecoaches carried visitors to the town.  The statue and its accompanying emblems are still repainted every year in vivid colours.

George III suffered from what has been described as an imbalance of body chemicals damaging the nervous system.  George III was to make his 14th and final visit in 1805, and spent his last years as King confined to Windsor Castle.  By the early 19th. Century Weymouth was garrisoned with 10,000 troops billeted in three huge barracks, including a whole regiment on the esplanade.  The King had brought everlasting fame as the country’s most fashionable resort to Weymouth; the Army in force – and the highest rents and food prices ever.

It was during George III’s first visit that the storming of the Bastille in Paris took place, at the beginning of the French Revolution. At the time, he was cruising in the Bay. In 1793 France declared war on England. By 1794 there was real fear of an invasion of this country, so that every year saw more and more troops around Weymouth, in addition to the local volunteer forces.  The King personally supervised the planning of defences on the Island of Portland.  But a projected breakwater, which was to protect the harbour of Portland, was not to be built for over 50 years. In 1798 came the Battle of the Nile and Admiral Nelson’s victory, celebrated with gun salutes on board ships in the Bay and by troops and crowds on the beach.

There is a story that General Garth, a royal equerry, was the father of a baby boy said to have been born in the town to Princess Sophia (22), the King’s fifth daughter, and that he later brought him up at Puddletown.  And the famous clown Joe Grimaldi once recited, at the town’s Theatre Royal, an eight-verse poem extolling Weymouth and George III. Terraces were built with regal names. In 1799 the “Sherborne Mercury” declared that Weymouth “had seldom heretofore had to boast of a greater assemblage of rank, beauty and fashion than at present….”

The King rode to hounds, and visited countryseats such as Lulworth Castle, Sherborne Castle and Milton Abbey.  He took a great interest in the island of Portland, dined at what is now the Royal Portland Arms – and studied sheep farming.  He visited the theatre in Augusta Place, and the Assembly Rooms, and services in the parish church and aboard ship.

In the 1790’s, the King met Mr. Weld of Lulworth Castle and asked him what had happened to the English Catholic communities, which had been set up in the Low Countries. When he was told that nuns at a convent in Belgium where Mr. Weld’s daughter was a novice, had nowhere to flee from the French, and were in danger, he invited the Sisters to come back to their home country. The Sisters sailed from Holland to London and settled in the Abbey House at Winchester where they began to hear Mass.

There were great celebrations when the royal visitor first arrived in town from Windsor, a month after his 51st. birthday, to be greeted by thousands at the Weymouth turnpike, and copious decorations in the streets.  On first viewing the Bay, the King enthused: “I never enjoyed a sight so pleasing.”  That visit was to last no less than 10 weeks.

According to one report, the King, Queen Charlotte and the Princesses were out in the sea air by six o’clock every morning, and there were frequent voyages on the royal yacht, protected by a ring of frigates.

On the 24th August 1804 George and his entourage set off from Windsor for Weymouth travelling through the night arriving there at dawn. He was soon to be seen walking along the Esplanade and on horseback he reviewed the Hanoverian Legion. Later in the day he inspected other military units including the Weymouth Volunteers.

A busy round of engagements; including two balls, one in celebration of his wedding anniversary, and a review of the fleet give the lie to his doctors diagnosis of madness, at that time at least.

For the crowds who saw him on special occasions, the King was a majestic sight to behold, wearing a sash of crimson-netted silk made by his Queen.  The original use of sashes was to carry off the wounded from battle, and when spread out they measured over four feet wide by three yards long.

A building spree at Weymouth began with the construction of Stacie’s Hotel in 1772. Georgian houses and terraces were erected and the Royal Crescent and Charlotte Row made their appearances, and a two-feet-wide esplanade wall as protection against the sea.

The arrival of the Victorian Age was recognised when soon after 1850 Victoria Terrace was constructed, including the present-day Hotel Prince Regent.