In the parish of Gluvias by Penryn is Bohelland. Fifty years ago there was a ruin here of a roofless house, with the gables standing. Now all that remains is a fragment of wall. Tradition regarding the field in which the house stood is, that it invariably brings ill luck to him who owns or rents it. The way from Penryn to Enys, a lane, leads by it, and the fragment of wall abuts on the lane. Bohelland is not marked on the one-inch, but is on the six-inch ordnance map. Anciently it was called the Behethlan, and Gluvias Church was called Capella de Behethlan under S. Budock.

In the possession of J. D. Enys, Esq., of Enys, is a MS. pedigree of the family to whom Bohelland belonged. It runs as follows: "John Behethlan was seized of lands in agro Behethlan, and had issue two daughters, Margery and Joan, and the said Margery took to husband Roger Polwheyrell, and had issue Nicholas Polwheyrell; the said Nicholas Polwheyrell had issue James Polwheyrell; the said James Polwheyrell had issue Richard, Margery, Joan and Isabel, and the said Richard married Maud Polgiau, and they had issue Nichola, and the said Nichola took to husband John Penweyre, and had issue Thomas Penweyre, who died without heirs. The said Margery took to husband Symon Martharwyler, and had issue Elsota and Meliora. The said Elsota took to husband Nicholas Mantle, now living, and had issue Isabel, who took to husband John Restaden, now living. The said Meliora took to husband Michael John, vicar,[36] and had issue Joan, Elizabeth, and Margaret.

"The said Joan took to husband Hugh Sandre, now living. The said Elizabeth took to husband Laurence Michell, now living; the said Margaret took to husband James Curallak, now living. The said Joan, second daughter of the said James Polwheyrell, took to husband John Trelecoeth, and had issue Marina and Joan. The said Isabel, third daughter of the said James, took to husband William son of John Tryarne, and died without issue."

Unfortunately this pedigree does not contain a single date, but we should obtain one approximately by the marriage of Meliora, daughter of Simon Martharwyla, with Michael John, vicar, if we could trace him. With her descended the inheritance of Behethlan to her daughter Joan who married Hugh Sandry.

The story of the Bohelland or Behethlan tragedy is contained in a pamphlet of eight leaves, black letter, and accompanied by rude woodcuts, entitled News from Penrin, in Cornwall, 1618. A unique copy is in the Bodleian Library.

Sanderson, in his Annals of King James, 1656, gives the same story. Sir William Sanderson says that "the imprinted relation conceals the names, in favour of some neighbours of repute and kin to the family," and that "the same sense made him thereon silent also."

Now, according to the story, there were four deaths, one a murder, and two by suicide, and one might expect to obtain these names from the parish register. But this register, which goes back into the middle of the sixteenth century, has the page or pages removed for the burials of 1618; that is to say, from the first days of 1618 to the middle of 1621. This looks much as if the family sought to destroy every trace of the crime.

Hals, in his MS. History of Cornwall, under the head of Gluvias, does not mention Bohelland. There is no help to be obtained from the title deeds of the estate. Our sole clue is the descent in the pedigree. Meliora, who married Michael John, vicar, cannot have done this before the reign of Edward VI, and it is not probable that the marriage took place till that of Elizabeth. They were not married at Gluvias, and Michael John was not the vicar then. Now the pedigree carries down the descent, with possession of Bohelland to John Restadon and his wife Isabel. The name Restadon does not occur in the Visitations of Cornwall. The only other possible owner would be Hugh Sandry and his wife Joan, daughter of the vicar, Michael John. But whether it were either the Sandrys or the Restadons, or some one else, cannot be determined till further light enters on this extremely dark occurrence.

The owner of Bohelland was a man of some consideration and substance, "unhappy only in a younger son, who taking liberty from his father's bounty, with a crew of like condition, that wearied on land, they went roving to sea, and in a small vessel southward, took booty from all they could master, and so increasing force and wealth, ventured in a Turk's man in the Streights; but by mischance their own powder fired themselves, and our gallant, trusting to his skilful swimming, got on shore upon Rhodes with the best of his jewels about him; when, offering some to sale to a Jew, who knew them to be the Governor's of Algier, he was apprehended, and as a pirate sentenced to the gallies among other Christians, when miserable slavery made them all studious of freedom, and with wit and valour, took opportunity and means to murther some officers, got on board of an English ship, and came safe to London, where his misery and some skill made him servant to a surgeon and sudden preferment to the East Indies. There by this means he got money, with which, returning back, he designed himself for his native county, Cornwall. And in a small ship from London, sailing to the west, was cast away upon that coast. But his excellent skill in swimming and former fate to boot, brought him safe to shore, where, since his fifteen years' absence, his father's former fortunes much decayed, now retired him not far off to a country habitation, in debt and danger.

"His sister he finds married to a mercer, a meaner match than her birth promised. To her at first he appears a poor stranger, but in private reveals himself, and withall what jewels and gold he had concealed in a bow-case about him, and concluded that the next day he intended to appear to his parents, and to keep his disguise till she and her husband should meet, and make their common joy complete.

"Being come to his parents, his humble behaviour, suitable to his suit of clothes, melted the old couple to so much compassion as to give him covering from the cold season under their outward roof, and by degrees his travelling tales, told with passion to the aged people, made him their guest so long by the kitchen fire, that the husband took his leave and went to bed, and soon after, his true stories working compassion in the weaker vessel, she wept, and so did he; but, compassionate of her tears, he comforted her with a piece of gold, which gave assurance that he deserved a lodging, to which she brought him; and, being in bed, showed her his girdled wealth, which he said was sufficient to relieve her husband's wants, and to spare for himself, and being very weary, fell fast asleep.

"The wife, tempted with the golden bait of what she had, and eager of enjoying all, awakened her husband with this news, and her contrivance what to do; and though with horrid apprehensions he oft refused, yet her puling fondness (Eve's enchantments) moved him to consent, and rise to be master of all, and both of them to murder the man, which instantly they did, covering the corpse under the clothes till opportunity to convey it out of the way.

"The early morning hastens the sister to her father's house, when she, with signs of joy, enquires for a sailor that should lodge there the last night. The parents slightly denied to have seen such, until she told them that he was her brother, her lost brother. By that assured scar upon his arm, cut with a sword in his youth, she knew him, and were all resolved this morning to meet there and be merry.

"The father hastily runs up, finds the mark, and with horrid regret of this monstrous murder of his own son, with the same knife cuts his own throat.

"The wife went up to consult with him, when in a most strange manner beholding them both in blood, and aghast, with the instrument at hand, readily rips herself up, and perishes on the same spot.

"The daughter, doubting the delay of their absence, searches for them all, whom she found out too soon, and with the sad sight of this scene, and being overcome with horror and amaze of this deluge of destruction, she sank down and died; the fatal end of that family."

There are several points in this narrative that awaken mistrust. How is the story of the son's life known? He tells it to his sister, but she dies. Then we have an account of what went on in the house between the parents and the son, and the wife urging her husband to commit the murder. As both killed themselves on discovering what they had done, all this part must be painted in by guesswork.

That there is a substratum of fact cannot be doubted. The mysterious mutilation of the parish register for the year of the murder indicates a desire that the names might not be known.

Lillo turned the story into a tragedy, The Fatal Curiosity, 1736. According to him the name of the family was Wilmot. He took a slight liberty with the story, in that he made the returned sailor present himself to the girl he had loved fifteen years before, and not to his sister. But he laid the scene at Penryn.