In a Cornish churchyard, at Landulph, there is a memorial to a 17th century individual, Theodore Paleologus, who claimed descent from the last Byzantine Emperors, whose surname he bore. This line is generally thought to have died out in the 15th century after the Fall of Constantinople in 1453, though there were, hardly surprisingly, a number of claimants to the imperial throne. The Landulph lineage has often intrigued antiquaries and romancers, and over the years the story has been periodically revived and researched. The question of how genuine this claim was, and how the heir came to end up in Cornwall, has often been explored.
It seems almost to belong alongside those recondite traditions summed up in a little pamphlet I have, entitled Did Our Lord Visit Britain as they say in Cornwall and Somerset? by Cyril Comyn Dobson (Glastonbury: Avalon Press, 1938), which suggests that Christ came to the West Country when young accompanying Joseph of Arimathea. There are also legends of course linking King Arthur to Cornwall, including the idea that the Dark Age leader lies sleeping there waiting for the time when he will be needed once more to rescue Britain (round about now would be quite handy).
However, the Landulph legend is not the only example of a reputed Byzantine heir in Cornwall. I have a battered old copy of Notes and Queries Vol X in a smoky purple binding in which a correspondent, under the pen-name ‘Video’, reports a similar, but entirely distinct tradition. In the issue of Nov 18, 1854, p.409, under the heading ‘Cornish Descendants of the Emperor of Greece’ he explains that more than thirty years ago he was owed money by an old farmer by name of John Cossentine:
‘But poor as he was, he informed me that he was the high lord of a very considerable estate in his own neighbourhood, which was in the parish of St Veep’ and would soon come into money from his rights to some timber about to be felled. ‘On inquiry how this could possibly be, he went on to inform me that his family, from which he was lineally descended, were formerly Emperors of Constantinople; that their name was Constantine, and that it had been softened into Cossendine by vulgar pronunciation. When the Turks took the city, his family made their escape, and came to England, bringing with them great wealth, with a portion of which they bough the property of which he was still the high lord; and a large sum was also deposited in the Tower of London.’
The antiquarian relates that he made inquiries of the steward of the gentleman who sub-letted the land, who confirmed the old farmer’s title to a share in the proceeds from the timber. He also heard from the latter’s son, who was of either St Veep or Lanreath, he cannot now recall which, and who confirmed the story that was in their family. They had once owed a large estate but now retained only the High Lordship of it, which could not be sold as it was entailed. ‘Video’ adds: ‘This family still exists in the same neighbourhood; and there is, in the neighbouring parish of Lantegloss by Fowey, another family of the same name and, I have no doubt, of the same descent, whatever that may be . . .’
Arthur Quiller-Couch (‘Q’) wrote a romance, Sir John Constantine (1906) which follows the Paleologus of Landulph story and imagines some later descendants, now Cornish squires, but uses Constantine as their surname: and another of his books, The Mystery of Joseph Laquedem (1900) has a young woman also called Constantine and of the imperial descent . It’s not clear if ‘Q’ knew both the St Veep Constantine tradition and the Landulph Paleologus one, and merged them, or only the latter, which he elaborated on his own account.
But Q also wrote stories about the survival of Ancient Greek customs and deities in Cornwall, such as ‘Phoebus on Halzaphron’ and ‘Not Here, O Apollo’. They are clearly the work of a man who wants to celebrate two of his greatest loves – the place he chose to live and the idea of Classical Greece—and to indulge a fantasy that they might once have touched. They are reflective, refulgent stories. Q is a traditional storyteller, evocative and companionable, who evidently enjoys his tales, and this comes across warmly to the reader. The volume of Q’s Mystery Stories (1937) is an excellent selection, which includes those two stories.
(Mark Valentine)
Well, finally! After years of learning about recondite volumes of quaint forgotten lore from Comrade Valentine, I find that I actually own "Q's Mysteries" and have even read some of it. Alas, not the two stories Mark mentions, so I can now look forward to an enjoyable evening ahead later this fall or winter.--md
ReplyDelete"This line is generally thought to have died out in the 15th century after the Fall of Constantinople in 1453"
ReplyDeleteThe male line, perhaps; but the female line was the basis of the Tsars of Russia and the reason why Moscow called itself the Third Rome - and uses the Byzantine double-headed-eagle as national symbol. The specific link was that Sophia Palaiologina was the last Byzantine Emperor's neice, and the grandmother of Ivan the Terrible - the first Tsar.
Another fascinating link I discovered, via the historical work of Father Andrew Phillips at Orthodox England - http://orthodoxengland.org.uk/trust.htm#books - which is (from memory) that about 10,000 English fled after the Norman Invasion, found their way to Constaninople, raised a seige on the city; and were rewarded by the Emperor with an English sector of the city and jobs in his bodyguard. The English remained a feature of life there for hundreds of years.
Thank you, Bruce, that's most interesting, and those Byzantine-English links might well have had something to do with the Cornish traditions. Mark
Delete@Mark I notice your links to Roger Dobson. I contributed the introduction to a book he edited called Death can be cured (2007). This collected and summarized 99 of the strangest and most offbeat papers published in Medical Hypotheses, of which I was then editor in chief. I liked the book, and found him very easy to work with by correspondence; but sadly that was the full extent of the relationship.
ReplyDeleteHello, Bruce - that was actually a different Roger Dobson. Confusingly, there were two writers and journalists of the same name. Mark
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