FIFTY MILES FROM Trethevy, in the town of Truro, events that were destined to have a lasting effect upon the future of the servants of the North Cornwall rectory were already unfolding in a manner that would end in violence.
In Truro, as in other parishes throughout the land, a tax was levied on householders and businesses for the benefit of the parish church, symbol of the Established Church of England. This tax was bitterly resented by Nonconformists and they would occasionally refuse to pay what they regarded as an unjust tax.
It so happened that this is what had occurred in Truro, one of the largest towns in Cornwall, as a result of which three dissenting shopkeepers were taken to court and a distress warrant issued by the magistrate, ordering the town’s constables to seize goods from the three men and have them auctioned in order to raise the unpaid tax.
The items were duly gathered and, in accordance with the court’s instructions it was arranged for them to be auctioned and the monies from their sale paid to the churchwardens.
News of the actions taken by the magistrate and town constables quickly circulated throughout Cornwall, helped by Nonconformist preachers who broadcast details of the proceedings from the pulpits of their own churches.
As a result, on the day of the auction many Dissenters descended upon Truro, led by work-hardened tin-miners who had a reputation of physically fighting for anything they perceived to be their ‘rights’.
Eval Moyle was among the crowd gathered outside the auction rooms and his voice rose above all others, urging the increasingly volatile crowd to disrupt the proceedings of the forthcoming auction.
It was unfortunate for the auctioneer that he arrived upon the scene when Moyle’s oratory was in full flow. A dapper little man of middle-age, he was immaculately dressed in a dark grey frock coat, striped waistcoat, Oxford blue cravat and white doe-skin trousers. His outfit was topped by a tall beaver hat perched upon an impressive head of dark brown hair which curled over his ears.
In such clothes he stood out from all those in the crowd and his arrival was greeted with noisy derision. When Eval Moyle caught sight of him he announced, ‘Here’s the man who’s hand-in-glove with Church and magistrates! He’ll make certain the treasured possessions of hard-working and God-fearing Christians are sold for a pittance, the money going to them as pay no more than lip-service to the Lord while living off the fat of the land in His name.’
The auctioneer was a mild-mannered man but, although frightened to find himself surrounded by such a noisy and angry mob, he had a task to perform and was determined to carry it out.
Addressing those closest to him, he said, ‘All the goods that come under my hammer will be fairly sold to the highest bidder….’
The statement was greeted with howls of derision, but the auctioneer refused to be prevented from saying his piece. ‘… Any money received over and above that ordered to be paid to the churchwardens will be handed over to the persons from whom the goods were seized.’
‘They don’t want any leftover offerings from the likes of you.’ Once again the loud voice of Eval Moyle rose above the hubbub from the crowd. ‘They want the return of the goods the Church has stole from ’em – and we’re here to see that’s what they get!’
The auctioneer would have been wise to accept that the mob were intent upon disrupting the business of the auction house for that day, at least, and turn away leaving them to celebrate what would have been a meaningless and purely temporary victory. But he was neither wise, nor lacking in courage.
‘I sympathise with those who have had their goods seized, of course I do, but theirs are not the only items in the auction and I have my duty to perform, so if you will excuse me.’
While he was talking, Eval Moyle, determined that the unruly mob would accept him as their leader, pushed his way through the throng of volatile demonstrators and confronted the auctioneer. ‘You’ll do no business today with selling other men’s goods, so I suggest you turn around and go home.’
‘I can’t do that.’
Trying to hide the very real fear he was feeling inside at being confronted by Moyle, the auctioneer tried to move forward, by-passing him, but a leg was thrust out from the crowd and he tripped, cannoning into the Primitive Methodist preacher and losing his beaver hat. Reaching out to retrieve it, he was foiled by the heavy boot of a miner which stamped upon the expensive headgear.
When the unfortunate man tried to rise to his feet Moyle kneed him and he fell to the ground once more. A cheer went up from the crowd and they closed in upon the fallen auctioneer.
A small group of hopelessly outnumbered town constables had been watching what was going on from the comparative safety of a nearby narrow alleyway but, aware of the very real danger posed to the auctioneer, they bravely chose to come to his rescue.
It was a grave mistake. They were instantly set upon by a mob eager to vent its pent up anger and frustration on anyone in authority.
With attention turned away from him, the original object of the crowd’s fury was able to crawl to the auction rooms, but he had not escaped unscathed. Bruised and beaten and minus his hat, frock coat and cravat, his waistcoat had been torn beyond repair and he had also been dispossessed of his fine head of hair, which proved to be no more than an expensive wig that had disappeared in the mêlée to reveal a balding pate, adding some ten years to his appearance.
Despite his battered and dishevelled state, minutes later the brave auctioneer appeared at an upstairs window of the auction rooms and endeavoured to conduct an auction from here.
It was an impossible feat. The crowd of Dissenters and miners were now battling among themselves, as well as fighting the constables who had been reinforced by reserves hurriedly called in to help deal with the brawling crowd.
It was not long before a magistrate arrived on the scene and called upon the brawling mob to cease their unruly behaviour. When his orders were ignored he proceeded to read out the Riot Act, at the same time sending off a messenger to call out the militia to quell what was now a riot in law, as well as in essence.
Missiles were being hurled about, many aimed at the auction rooms and the plucky auctioneer was finally forced to bring his attempts to conduct business to a close when glass from the window above his head began showering about him.
When the riot in the street was at its height, a well-respected Cornish nobleman appeared upon the scene. His title had been bestowed upon him for great gallantry at the Battle of Waterloo, in 1815, and he had interests in a number of the mines where the rioting miners worked.
Standing on the steps of a nearby house he repeatedly called upon the men to stop their fighting before the militia put in an appearance and began taking action against them.
At first it seemed he would be ignored but, as he was recognised by more and more of the rioters, the fighting in the battle-strewn street gradually died down.
The riot was over and the fighting on the streets of Truro had come to an end before the arrival of the militiamen. The objective of the rioters had been achieved inasmuch as there would be no auction of chapel-goers’ property in the auction room on this day and, after raising three hearty cheers for the veteran Cornish peer, the rioters dispersed.
The Dissenters and their allies had won the day, but retribution would pursue them throughout the county. The names of many of those involved were known to the constables and the magistrate who had been present throughout the disorders and arrest warrants were made out for a large number of them.
Foremost among those singled out to pay the penalty for their actions at the riot scene was Eval Moyle.
Aware that he was known to the constables who had been attacked during the rioting, Moyle knew he would be among the first they would come seeking, and a magistrate sympathetic to the Established Church would have no hesitation in committing him for trial to a higher court, where he would undoubtedly receive a harsh sentence.
Moyle realised that if he was to avoid retribution he would need to leave Cornwall – to leave the country, perhaps, but before he did so he had a few scores to settle.