There are certain members of our community who are supposed to be beyond reproach. Individuals that we hold in higher esteem, who are meant to set the standard for the rest of us – the village constable or doctor perhaps and of course, the local vicar. But experience should have taught us that these individuals are just a fallible as the rest of us, just as likely to commit a crime or indulge in bad behaviour, and yet somehow it still comes as a surprise . . . And it was certainly a shock to the community in Talland when they realised that the curate who had been taking their church services for nearly a year was not exactly who he had professed to be!

Fugitive from the Law

In December 1811 a notice appeared in the Bath newspapers describing a man who was wanted for forgery. The criminal with the rather elegant name of Robert Peacock had swindled Mr. Joseph Johnson of Chester out of an unspecified amount of money. The reward for information leading to a conviction was £50, around £2500 today, suggesting that what had been lost must have been a substantial sum.

Peacock had been living at No 8 Fetter Lane in the City of London and had been telling people that he had recently compiled and published a “law book”.

The notice also contained a physical description of the man they were seeking – he was about 5 feet 11 inches tall with a fresh complexion, he was good looking, powdered his hair and he made an effort to pass himself off as a gentleman. Peacock is also said to have claimed that he was the son of Sarah Peacock, who lived at No 10 Orange Grove in Bath, and he was believed to be heading in that direction. Hence the advert appearing in that town’s press.

But Peacock did not surface in Bath, in fact he vanished into thin air.

It seems that he decided to head a little further west . . .

A New Curate Arrives in Talland

In the spring of 1812 Rev. Nicholas Kendall decided to hire a curate to help tend to his flock at Talland, a parish to the east of the harbour of Polperro. Kendall, who was quite an elderly man at 71 years old, must have felt that he already had enough to do at his living in Lanlivery so was delighted when a man calling himself Rev. Thomas Whitmore applied for the position.

Whether Kendall was able to check any of Whitmore’s credentials seems unlikely and it is unclear what story the stranger told the older man but he was convincing enough to secure the position.

Whitmore moved into the vicarage at Talland sometime in March 1812 and began taking over the usual duties expected of a vicar in a small rural parish. His wages were modest, thought to have been around £50 per annum, and for this he was expected to give one service a week plus six communions a year, as well as tend to the daily needs of his congregation – baptisms, marriages and burials.

The new curate was said to be charming and cultured and it has been suggested that a certain wealthy lady in the village was very taken with him. One newspaper wrote:

“He became very popular and gained such especial favour in female society that he married a young lady of respectable connections”

(The paper later corrected this, stating that he hadn’t actually wed the lady to which they had “alluded”.)

With the benefit of hindsight however some of his parishioners confessed that they had been suspicious of the newcomer. Despite this over the course of several months Whitmore borrowed money and ran up bills with local businesses, all the while claiming that he was waiting for pay that was owed to him from his previous living in Ireland.

During his time in Talland Rev. Whitmore performed eight baptisms, four weddings and at least eleven funerals, and it was one of these funeral services that unfortunately convinced one local man to lend the curate £50. The man claimed that:

“The very impressive manner in which he [Whitmore] read the burial service made an impression on me quite favourable . . . In a few days he called upon me and without difficulty induced me to give him cash for a Bill of £50 . . . “

After all, if you couldn’t trust a man of the cloth who could you trust?

Fleecing the Flock

Sometime around the beginning of November 1812 Rev. Whitmore gave what was to be his last sermon at Talland church. He used the service to make a collection for “distressed widows and children of deceased clergymen, on which occasion he preached a sermon in recommendation of this charity.”

An anonymous letter to the editor of the West Briton, written on the 7th November 1812 and published in the paper on the 20th, picked up on this sermon and bemoaned the idea of giving more money to the church. The writer questioned why the church could not take care of the clergymens’ families themselves, especially when some of the vicars are paid upwards of £1000 a year, and he also comments:

“A sermon is to be preached at Talland I perceive also for this purpose and a [collection] box to be handed from pew to pew. Now I know nothing of the parson or the parish of Talland, but this I know, if the inhabitants of it are of my opinion the box will be passed empty from pew to pew and the clergyman be thereby silently admonished not again to insult the dignity of our church by intruding upon it this sectarian mode of fleecing his flock.”

But ultimately the only charity that Whitmore was really interested in was himself . . . and it seems that “fleecing his flock” had always been very much the plan.

Within days of this sermon the curate disappeared in the dead of night, taking with him valuables from the vicarage and leaving dozens of unpaid bills and a list of creditors in his wake. Including the man he owed £50 and a Mr Kennedy who had also lent him £22.

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A sale of furniture from the vicarage was quickly arranged to try and recoup some of the money stolen and to try and pay off some of the debts.

The Fall-Out from the Fake Vicar

The financial loss was perhaps not the worst of it, the community quickly realised that they had been rather cruelly hoodwinked – it now became clear that the Reverend Whitmore was not a reverend at all! A revelation that had serious consequences for his parishioners beyond just the serious breach of their trust!

There were now a number of married couples who were not actually married, which meant that they were living in sin, and a number babies who were not really baptised!

The parish records for Talland show that the unfortunate situation was swiftly rectified in February 1813, a few weeks after Whitmore absconded. On the 14th February the register notes that there were eight baptisms that day and then on the 19th February there were four marriages in just one day!

Some reports put the sham marriages at seven, but parish records only confirm four couples actually taking their vows again.

In the meantime however, Rev Whitmore had moved on, changed his name again and was trying his luck in another part of the country.

The Capture of Robert Peacock

After leaving Talland the bogus vicar headed to another quiet country parish, this time Newnham in the Forest of Dean where Rev Parsons had been advertising for a new curate. This time he gave his name as Rev. Thomas White and began work as the new curate there on the 22nd March 1813. Within a few weeks of his arrival White went to the Church Warden, Job Thatcher, claiming that he was short of money as he was waiting for wages from his previous living in Ireland. He borrowed £30 against a Bill payable at a London bank, which was forged of course.

But this time, for some reason, suspicion was aroused in this community and the so called Thomas White was asked to show proof that he was indeed an ordained clergyman. White claimed that his papers were all in boxes that were on their way over from Ireland and this satisfied everyone for a while but he must have known that his time was running out.

On 14th May he was asked again to produce his credentials and took the hint and vanished a few days later.

What happened next is not entirely straightforward, the papers are full of contradictory accounts, but what is clear is that the mock parson had many people looking for him. Not only was there the original complainant, Joseph Johnson, apparently those he had duped in Cornwall were also on his trail (there is some suggestion that they had hired private investigators) as well as now the disgruntled parishioners in the Forest of Dean and of course the authorities.

Despite this the man whose real name was Robert Peacock did not lie low. In October/November 1813 he was supposedly seen in Bath, Bristol and Gloucester passing himself off as a gentleman by the name of Richard Williamson and driving about in a smart carriage drawn by four horses. At one time he was seen staying in the King’s Head in Gloucester and it is possible that someone recognised him there.

The net was closing in.

On 29th November 1813 he was arrested in Worcester.

At the time of his arrest he had £150 in cash on his person (around £7000 in today’s money), claimed to be Richard Williamson from Wiltshire, told the police that he was a very wealthy man and showed them a pile of stock certificates (presumably forged) worth thousands of pounds.

Trial & Execution

According to notes taken during his trial Robert Peacock had an astonishing number of alias’ including: Thomas Whitmore, Thomas White, Richard Williamson, Richard Thomas, William Whitfield and William Whitmore.

All his lies and subterfuge came back to bite him at the Gloucester Assizes on 9th April 1814. He was found guilty of forgery, a capital offence at that time. The story made the papers in Cornwall and must have been a hot topic of conversation in Talland.

Robert Peacock’s execution was delayed while his lawyer argued over a point of law and then applied for clemency. His elderly mother, Sarah, apparently petitioned the Home Secretary asking for mercy and it was claimed that he had three young children to support and that he was a model prisoner who was teaching the other criminals scripture. It was all to no avail however and the sham vicar was executed on the roof of the gatehouse of Gloucester gaol on 3rd September 1814.

According to historian Beryl James in her book Tales of the Saints’ Way, someone from the Talland community actually travelled up to watch the public execution, in order to confirm that Robert Peacock was indeed Rev Thomas Whitmore, the man who had lived amongst them on the Cornish coast two years earlier in 1812.

Further Reading

The Parson Ghost Layers – Cornwall’s Exorcists

Willy Wilcox’s Cave, Polperro

Murder in Poundstock Church

Walking Opportunities

Circular Walks around Talland Bay

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