Transcriber's Note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), text
enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=), and superscripted text
is preceded by a ^ (and enclosed by {curly} brackets if longer than
one letter).
Additional Transcriber's Notes are at the end.
THE CORNISH COAST
(SOUTH)
WORKS BY CHARLES G. HARPER
=The Portsmouth Road=, and its Tributaries: To-day and in Days of Old.
=The Dover Road=: Annals of an Ancient Turnpike.
=The Bath Road=: History, Fashion, and Frivolity on an Old Highway.
=The Exeter Road=: The Story of the West of England Highway.
=The Great North Road=: The Old Mail Road to Scotland. Two Vols.
=The Norwich Road=: An East Anglian Highway.
=The Holyhead Road=: The Mail-Coach Road to Dublin. Two Vols.
=The Cambridge, Ely, and King's Lynn Road=: The Great Fenland Highway.
=The Newmarket, Bury, Thetford, and Cromer Road=: Sport and History on
an East Anglian Turnpike.
=The Oxford, Gloucester, and Milford Haven Road=: The Ready Way to
South Wales. Two Vols.
=The Brighton Road=: Speed, Sport, and History on the Classic Highway.
=The Hastings Road= and the "Happy Springs of Tunbridge."
=Cycle Rides Round London.=
=A Practical Handbook of Drawing for Modern Methods of Reproduction.=
=Stage Coach and Mail in Days of Yore.= Two Vols.
=The Ingoldsby Country=: Literary Landmarks of "The Ingoldsby Legends."
=The Hardy Country=: Literary Landmarks of the Wessex Novels.
=The Dorset Coast.=
=The South Devon Coast.=
=The Old Inns of Old England.= Two Vols.
=Love in the Harbour=: a Longshore Comedy.
=Rural Nooks Round London= (Middlesex and Surrey).
=Haunted Houses=: Tales of the Supernatural.
=The Manchester and Glasgow Road.= This way to Gretna Green. Two Vols.
=The North Devon Coast.=
=Half-Hours with the Highwaymen.= Two Vols.
=The Autocar Road Book.= Four Vols.
=The Tower Of London=: Fortress, Palace, and Prison.
=The Somerset Coast.=
=The Smugglers=: Picturesque Chapters in the Story of an Ancient Craft.
=The Cornish Coast.= North.
=Thames Valley Villages.= [_In the Press._
[Illustration:
_Gibson & Sons, Penzance._]
WRECK OF THE _BLUEJACKET_, ON THE LONGSHIPS.]
=THE CORNISH COAST
(SOUTH)
And the Isles of Scilly=
BY
CHARLES G. HARPER
"_Here smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed_"
GOLDSMITH
[Illustration]
LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, LTD.
1910
PRINTED AND BOUND BY
HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
NEW BRIDGE--THE TAMAR--MORWELL
ROCKS--CALSTOCK--COTHELE--PENTILLIE--LANDULPH 1
CHAPTER II
SALTASH--SALTASH BRIDGE--TREMATON CASTLE--ST.
GERMANS--ANTONY--RAME--MOUNT EDGCUMBE--MILLBROOK 18
CHAPTER III
DOWNDERRY--LOOE--TALLAND--POLPERRO--LANTEGLOS-JUXTA-FOWEY 33
CHAPTER IV
FOWEY--THE FOWEY RIVER--ST. VEEP--GOLANT--LERRIN--ST.
WINNOW--LOSTWITHIEL 50
CHAPTER V
POLKERRIS--MENABILLY--PAR--THE BISCOVEY STONE--CHARLESTOWN,
ST. AUSTELL, AND THE CHINA-CLAY INDUSTRY--THE MENGU
STONE--PORTHPEAN--MEVAGISSEY--ST. MICHAEL
CAERHAYES--VERYAN--GERRANS--ST. ANTHONY-IN-ROSELAND 63
CHAPTER VI
ROSELAND--ST. MAWES--FALMOUTH 83
CHAPTER VII
FLUSHING--PENRYN AND THE KILLIGREW LADIES--MYLOR--ST.
JUST-IN-ROSELAND--RESTRONGUET CREEK, DEVORAN AND ST.
FEOCK--KING HARRY PASSAGE--RUAN CREEK--MALPAS--TRESILIAN
CREEK AND THE SURRENDER OF THE CORNISH ARMY 99
CHAPTER VIII
TRURO 115
CHAPTER IX
MAWNAN--HELFORD RIVER--MAWGAN-IN-MENEAGE--MANACCAN--ST.
ANTHONY-IN-ROSELAND--THE MANACLES ROCKS--WRECK OF THE
"MOHEGAN"--ST. KEVERNE 123
CHAPTER X
COVERACK COVE--POLTESCO--RUAN MINOR--CADGWITH COVE--THE
"DEVIL'S FRYING-PAN"--DOLOR HUGO--CHURCH
COVE--LANDEWEDNACK--LIZARD TOWN--RUAN MAJOR--THE LIZARD
LIGHTHOUSE 142
CHAPTER XI
KYNANCE COVE--ASPARAGUS ISLAND--THE DEVIL'S
POST-OFFICE--SIGNPOSTS--GUE GRAZE--MULLION
COVE--WRECK OF THE "JONKHEER"--MARY MUNDY AND THE "OLD INN" 159
CHAPTER XII
POLDHU AND THE MARCONI STATION--MODERN CORNWALL--GUNWALLOE--THE
"DOLLAR WRECK"--WRECK OF THE "BRANKELOW"; WRECKS OF THE "SUSAN
AND REBECCA" AND OF H.M.S. "ANSON"--LOE BAR AND POOL--HELSTON
AND ITS "FURRY"--PORTHLEVEN--BREAGE--WRECK OF THE
"NOISIEL"--PENGERSICK CASTLE 176
CHAPTER XIII
PRUSSIA COVE AND ITS SMUGGLERS--PERRANUTHNOE--ST.
HILARY--MARAZION--ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT--LUDGVAN--GULVAL 193
CHAPTER XIV
PENZANCE--NEWLYN AND THE "NEWLYN SCHOOL"--PAUL--DOLLY
PENTREATH--MOUSEHOLE--LAMORNA--TREWOOFE AND THE LEVELIS
FAMILY--BOLEIT--THE "MERRY MAIDENS"--PENBERTH COVE 216
CHAPTER XV
THE LOGAN ROCK AND ITS STORY--PORTHCURNO AND THE TELEGRAPH
STATION--ST. LEVAN--PORTH GWARRA--TOL-PEDN-PENWITH--CHAIR
LADDER--LAND'S END 232
CHAPTER XVI
THE LAND'S END DISTRICT--ST. BURYAN--SENNEN--LAND'S
END--THE LONGSHIPS LIGHTHOUSE 247
CHAPTER XVII
THE SCILLY ISLANDS--FLOWER-FARMING--THE INHABITED ISLANDS--ST.
MARY'S--STAR CASTLE--SAMSON AND "ARMOREL OF LYONESSE"--SIR
CLOUDESLEY SHOVEL--TRESCO--THE SEA-BIRDS 256
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Wreck of _Bluejacket_ _Frontispiece_
PAGE
The Cornish Coast 1
Newbridge _Facing_ 2
Calstock 5
The Tower, Pentillie 11
Sir James Tillie 13
"Two Miles to Saltash" 17
Plymouth Sound, The Hamoaze, and the Tamar 19
Saltash Bridge _Facing_ 20
Trematon Castle _Facing_ 22
St. Germans 24
Miserere, St. Germans 26
Plymouth and Drake's Island, from Mount Edgcumbe _Facing_ 32
Looe 37
The "Jolly Sailor," Looe 40
Talland Church 41
Old Bridge, Polperro 44
Polperro _Facing_ 46
Fowey _Facing_ 52
St. Winnow 57
Lostwithiel Church 59
Font, Lostwithiel 61
The Biscovey Stone 66
Porthpean 72
St. Michael Caerhayes 77
"Parson Trust's Houses" 79
Falmouth Harbour 81
St. Anthony's Lighthouse 84
St. Mawes Castle 86
Charles Church, Falmouth 94
Little Falmouth 100
South Porch and Cross, Mylor Church 104
St. Just-in-Roseland 107
St. Feock 109
Malpas 110
St. Clements 111
Merther 112
View from Tresilian Bridge 113
Truro, from the Fal 116
Truro Cathedral 120
Tablet, Truro Market House 122
The Helford River 125
Mawgan-in-Meneage 127
Hagioscope, Mawgan-in-Meneage 128
St. Anthony-in-Meneage 131
Inscribed Font, St. Anthony-in-Meneage 135
Wreck of the _Glenbervie_ on Lowlands Point _Facing_ 138
St. Keverne 140
Cadgwith Cove 145
The "Devil's Frying Pan" 147
Landewednack 149
Kynance Cove _Facing_ 160
Mullion Cove _Facing_ 166
Gunwalloe _Facing_ 182
Loe Pool 185
Breage 188
Wreck of _Noisiel_, Praa Sands _Facing_ 190
Pengersick Castle 191
The Coast of Cornwall, North-west and South-west (Map) 192
The "Noti-Noti Stone," St. Hilary 200
St. Michael's Mount _Facing_ 210
St. Michael's Chair 212
Arms of Penzance 217
Penzance Market House 219
Monument to Sir William Godolphin, with Armour 226
Cottages at Penberth Cove 231
Trereen Dinas 233
The Logan Rock 235
St. Levan 239
Chair Ladder 243
Early Home of Lord Exmouth 248
Land's End _Facing_ 252
Star Castle, and the Island of Samson 265
Armorel's Home, Samson Island _Facing_ 266
St. Agnes 267
Pulpit Rock 268
Holy Vale 271
[Illustration: _The Coast of Cornwall_ SOUTH-EAST.]
[Illustration: THE CORNISH COAST _SOUTH_.]
CHAPTER I
NEW BRIDGE--THE TAMAR--MORWELL
ROCKS--CALSTOCK--COTHELE--PENTILLIE--LANDULPH
The southern portion of the Cornish Coast may be said to begin at the
head of the navigation of the river Tamar, at Weir Head, to which the
excursion steamers from Plymouth can come at favourable tides, or a
little lower, at Morwellham Quay, where the depth of water permits of
more frequent approach. But barges can penetrate somewhat higher than
even Weir Head, proceeding through the canal locks at Netstakes, almost
as far as that ancient work, New Bridge, which carries the high road
from Dartmoor and Tavistock out of Devon into Cornwall.
From hence, then, at New Bridge, a hoary Gothic work of five pointed
arches with picturesquely projecting cutwaters, the south coast of
Cornwall may most fitly be traced. It is a constant surprise to the
explorer in England to discover that almost invariably the things
that are called "new" are really of great age. They were once new and
remarkable things. There is a "New Bridge" across the Thames, but it is
the oldest now existing. The town of Newmarket, in Cambridgeshire, was
a new thing in 1227, and there are other "Newmarkets" of even greater
age. The subject might be pursued at great length; but sufficient has
been said to prepare those who come this way not to expect some modern
triumph of engineering in iron or steel.
[Illustration: NEW BRIDGE.]
New Bridge, three and a half miles west of Tavistock, is approached
from that town by the old coach road and the new, descending with
varying degrees of steepness to the river. As you come down the older
and steeper and straighter road, you see the bridge far below, and
the first glimpse of Cornwall beyond it, where the lofty hills of
Gunnislake rise, scattered with the whitewashed cottages of the miners
engaged in the tin mines of the district. They, and the large factory
buildings below, near the river level, are not beautiful, and yet the
scene is of great picturesqueness and singularity. A weird building
beside the bridge on the Devonshire side, with two of its angles
chamfered off, is an old toll-house. Mines in working on the Devonshire
side belong to the Duke of Bedford, who has a fine park and residence
near by, at Endsleigh, which he would not (according to his own
account), be able to maintain, together with various other residences,
including the palatial Woburn Abbey, were it not for his vast income
from the ground-rents of what he was pleased to style "a few London
lodging-houses."
The surrounding country is dominated for many miles by the cone-shaped
Kit Hill, the crest of the elevated district of Hingston Down, crowned
by a monumental mine-chimney.
"Hingston Down, well wrought,
Is worth London, dear bought."
So runs the ancient rhyme. It has been "well wrought," not yet perhaps
to the value indicated above, and now its scarred sides are deserted;
but perhaps another instalment of London's ransom may yet be mined out
of it.
The riverside walk along the Cornish bank of the Tamar is at first
as smoothly beautiful as a Thames-side towing-path. Thus you come past
the locks at Netstakes to the Morwell Rocks, masses of grey limestone
cliffs rising from the Devonshire shore and hung with ivy and other
growths. Soon the Tamar falls over the barrier of Weir Head, and then
reaches the limit of the steamship navigation, at Morwellham Quay.
Words and phrases seem colourless and inexpressive in face of the sweet
beauties of limestone crag and winding river here; of the deep valley,
wooded richly to the hill-tops, and the exquisitely tender light that
touches the scene to glory. Nor is it without its everyday interest,
for the excursion steamers come up on favourable tides from Plymouth
and wind with astonishing appearance of ease round the acute bends of
the narrow channel; the branches of overhanging trees sweeping the
funnels. The lovely valley is seen in a romantic perspective from the
summit of the lofty hill that leads up to Calstock church, for from
that point of view you look down upon the little peninsular meadows
that now and again give place to cliffs, and through an atmosphere of
silver and gold see the river winding past them, like some Pactolian
stream. Down there lie the ruins of Harewood House, the old Duchy of
Cornwall office; across, as far as eye can reach, spread the blue
distances of Devon, and all along the course of the river the hamlets
are transfigured to an unutterable beauty. Leave it at that, my
friends. Do not explore those hamlets, for, in fact, they are neither
better nor worse than others. Like many among the great characters in
history, upon whom distance confers a greatness greater than properly
belongs to them, they have their littlenesses and squalors.
Calstock church must be, and must always have been, a prime test of
piety, for it stands upon a tremendous hilltop nearly a mile from the
village, and Calstock stands below by the water.
[Illustration: CALSTOCK.]
Calstock is the Richmond and Hampton Court of Plymouth. What those
places are to London, this is to the Three Towns of Plymouth,
Devonport, and Stonehouse; only the scenery is immeasurably finer
than that along the Thames, while, on the other hand, Cothele is not
to be compared with Hampton Court, nor is it so public. Of all the
many varied and delightful steamboat trips that await the pleasure of
the Plymouth people, or of visitors, none is so fine as the leisurely
passage from Plymouth to Calstock and back, first along the Hamoaze
and then threading the acutely curving shores of the Tamar, rising
romantically, covered exquisitely with rich woods. At the end of the
voyage from Plymouth, Calstock is invaded by hungry crowds. One of the
especial delights of the place is found in its strawberries, for the
neighbourhood is famous for its strawberry-growing. But the tourist,
who is not often able to set about his touring until the end of July,
is rarely able to visit Calstock in strawberry-time, and Plymouth
people have the river in the tender beauty of early summer, with
strawberries to follow, all to themselves. Here let a word of praise
be deservedly given to the extraordinarily cheap, interesting and
efficient excursions by steamboat that set out from Plymouth in the
summer. Without their aid, and those of the ordinary steam ferries, I
know not what the stranger in these parts would do, for the Plymouth
district is one of magnificently long distances, and the creeks of
the Hamoaze and the Tamar are many and far-reaching. And latterly
the Calstock excursion has been advantaged by the acquisition of the
_Burns_ steamer, one of the London County Council's flotilla on the
Thames that cost the ratepayers so dearly. There are shrewd people
down at Plymouth--or as we say in the West, down _tu_ Plymouth--and
when the County Council's expensive hobby was abandoned, these same
shrewd fellows secured the _Burns_ in efficient condition for about
one-twentieth part of its original cost, and are now understood to be
doing extremely well out of it.
I could wish that Calstock were in better fettle than it now is. He who
now comes to the village will see that it is completely dominated by a
huge granite railway viaduct of twelve spans, crossing the river, and
furnished with a remarkable spidery construction of steel, rising from
the quay to the rail-level. This is a lift, by which loaded trucks,
filled with the granite setts, kerbs, channelings, and road-metal
chips, in which the local "Cornwall Granite Company" deals, are
hoisted on to the railway, and so despatched direct to all parts. The
evidences of the Granite Company's special article of commerce are
plentiful enough, littering the riverside and strewing the roads, just
as though the Cornwall Granite Company were wishful by such means to
advertise their goods; but since the opening of the new railway, in
1909, the unfortunate lightermen and bargemen of the place have been
utterly ruined. The Plymouth, District, and South-Western Railway,
whose viaduct crosses the river, has taken away their old trade, and
has not the excuse, in doing so, of being able to earn a profit for
itself.
Below Calstock, at the distance of a mile, is Cothele, an ancient
mansion belonging to the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe. Steep paths through
woodlands lead to it, and the house itself is not the easiest to find,
being a low, grey granite building pretty well screened by shrubberies.
The real approach, is, in fact, rather from Cothele Quay, on the other
side of the hill, away from Calstock. Cothele is only occasionally
used by Lord Mount Edgcumbe, but it is not, properly speaking, a "show
house," although application will sometimes secure admission to view
its ancient hall and domestic chapel.
Cothele, begun by Sir Richard Edgcumbe in the reign of Henry the
Seventh, is still very much as he and his immediate successors left it,
with the old armour and furniture remaining. Richard is a favourite
name among the Edgcumbes. This particular Sir Richard engaged in the
dangerous politics of his time, and very nearly fell a victim to his
political convictions. Suspected of favouring the pretensions of the
Earl of Richmond, he was marked for destruction, and only escaped
arrest by plunging into the woods that surround Cothele. From a crag
overlooking the river he either flung his cap into the water, or it
fell off, and the splash attracting attention, it was thought he had
plunged into the river, and so was drowned. This supposition made his
escape easy. He returned on the death of Richard the Third and the
consequent accession of the Earl of Richmond, as Henry the Seventh, and
marked his sense of gratitude for the providential escape, by building
a chapel on the rock, overlooking Danescombe.
A Sir Richard, who flourished in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and was
Ambassador to Ireland, brought home the curious ivory "oliphants" or
horns, still seen in the fine hall, where the banners of the Edgcumbes
hang, with spears and cross-bows and armour that is not the merely
impersonal armour of an antiquary's collection, but the belongings of
those who inhabited Cothele of old. The most curious object among these
intimate things is a steel fore-arm and hand, with fingers of steel,
made to move and counterfeit as far as possible the lost members of
some unfortunate person who had lost his arm. To whom it belonged is
unknown.
The tapestries that decorated the walls of Cothele at its building
still hang in its rooms, the furniture that innovating brides
introduced, to bring the home up-to-date, has long since become the
delight of antiquaries, and the extra plenishings provided for the
visits of Charles the Second and George the Third and his Queen may
be noted. So do inanimate things remain, while man is resolved into
carrion and perishes in dust. I find no traces of the Early Victorian
furnishings that probably smartened up Cothele for the visit of Queen
Victoria and Prince Albert in 1846. They are well away.
Many are the royal personages who have visited Cothele. Sometimes they
have been as desolating as the merely vulgar could be; as, for example,
when one of them, disregarding the very necessary request not to
handle the curious old polished steel mirrors that are numbered among
the curiosities of the mansion, did so, with the result that a rusty
finger-mark appeared. Here was a chance for the reverential! A Royal
finger-mark, wrought in rust! It might have served the turn either of a
snob or a cynic, equally well; but it was removed at last, not without
much strenuous labour.
Cothele Quay stands deep down by the riverside, with a cottage or so
near, but otherwise solitary amid the woods, where the little creek
of Danescombe is spanned by an ancient Gothic bridge. The quay is the
port, so to speak, of Cothele, and of the village of St. Dominic, high
up on the hills; the readiest way for supplies of all kinds being from
Plymouth, by water.
Up there, through St. Dominic, the lofty high road that runs between
Callington and Saltash is reached. It runs through the village of
St. Mellion, whose church contains monuments, some of them rather
astonishing, to the Corytons of West Newton Ferrers, three miles to the
west.
Passing through St. Mellion, the road comes presently to the lovely
park of Pentillie, a wooded estate overlooking the Tamar in one of
its loveliest and most circuitous loops, where the river may be seen
through the woods winding and returning upon itself far below. Hidden
away in luxuriant glades almost on a level with the river is the
mansion of the Coryton family, itself of no great charm or interest;
but there is on one of the heights above it, known as "Mount Ararat,"
a weird "folly," or monument, rather famous in its way, in which was
buried, under peculiar conditions, the body of a former owner of
Pentillie, who died in 1713. It is well worth seeing, but in those
woody tangles is not so easily to be found. It stands, in fact, not
so far from the road itself, down a lane on the left hand before
coming to the lodge-gates of Pentillie, and then through a rustic gate
or two; but the stranger might easily take the wrong one among the
several rough footpaths, and the whole hillside is so overgrown with
trees, that the tower is not seen until you are actually at the base
of it. The better course is to proceed along the highway until you
come to the lodge-gates and to the broad, smooth carriage-road leading
lengthily down to the mansion. If you are on a bicycle, so much the
better; you are down there and in the courtyard of Pentillie "Castle,"
as it is called, in a flash. Proceeding then straight through to the
kitchen-gardens, there is a gardener's cottage, where, to those gifted
with a proper degree of courtesy, the gardener will point out the
hillside footpath by which you presently come to the tower, containing
a forbidding statue of Sir James Tillie. "An' if ye look through a
peephole in the wall," says the gardener, "ye can see th' owd twoad
quite plainly."
[Illustration: THE TOWER, PENTILLIE.]
Sir James Tillie was a person of very humble origin, born at St.
Keverne in 1645. He was soon in the service of Sir John Coryton,
Bart., of West Newton Ferrers, St. Mellion, who befriended him to a
considerable extent, placing him with an attorney and afterwards making
him his own steward. In 1680 the baronet died. Meanwhile Tillie, by
industry and prudence, had grown pretty well-to-do, and had married
the daughter of Sir Harry Vane, who brought him a fortune. She had
died some years before the decease of Sir John Coryton, at whose death
Tillie was a childless widower. His master had arranged that Tillie
should continue steward to his eldest son, John, the next baronet, and
guardian to his younger children. It was not long before the second
Sir John died, and Tillie married his widow, and seems in the thirty
years or so following to have been undisputed owner of Pentillie. How
all these things came to pass does not exactly appear; but at any rate
Tillie, who by false pretences of gentility and a considerable payment
of money had secured the honour of knighthood in 1686, built Pentillie
Castle, which he named after himself, and formed the park, and there
he resided until his death in 1713. His wife survived him. He had no
children, but was anxious to found a Tillie family, and left a will by
which his nephew, James Woolley, son of his sister, should inherit his
estates on assuming the name of Tillie.
Wild and fantastic legends fill up the mysterious lack of facts here
and there in Tillie's life. He is said to have poisoned Sir John
Coryton the younger, and was, among other things, reputed to be a
coiner, on a large scale, of base coin. But there is no evidence
for those tales. More certain it is that the College of Heralds in
1687 revoked the grant of arms to him, and fined him £200 for the
mis-statements that led to his obtaining them.
[Illustration: SIR JAMES TILLIE.]
A vein of eccentricity certainly ran through the composition of this
remarkable man. His "castle" has been rebuilt, but contains a life-size
leaden statue of himself that he had made, in voluminous periwig and
costume of the period, holding a roll of documents. His will contained
some remarkable provisions, including instructions for the building of
the tower and for his body to be laid there, with a seated stone statue
of himself. These instructions, repeated and noted down by a succession
of writers, have lost nothing of their oddity. Thus Hals tells us that
Tillie left directions that his body, habited in his hat, gloves, wig,
and best apparel, with shoes and stockings, should be fastened securely
in his chair and set in a room in the tower, with his books and pen and
ink in front of him, and declared that Tillie had said he would in two
years come to life and be at Pentillie again. The chamber in which his
body was to be set was to have another over it containing portraits
of himself, of his wife, and his nephew, to remain there "for ever."
The upper chamber many years ago fell into decay, and the portraits
were removed to the mansion; and no one knows what became of Tillie's
remains. His scheme of founding a Tillie family failed, and the
property eventually came into possession of descendants of the Coryton
family, through the marriage of Mary Jemima Tillie, granddaughter of
Sir James Tillie's nephew, with John Goodall, great-grandson of Sir
John Coryton the younger's daughter, who assumed the name of Coryton.
The brick tower of "Mount Ararat," now open to the sky and plentifully
overgrown with ivy, is approached by moss-grown stone steps. A lobby
at the summit of them ends in a blank wall with a kind of peep-hole
into the space within, not at all easy to get at. Any stranger peering
through, and not knowing what to expect, would be considerably startled
by what he saw; for directly facing the observer is the life-size
effigy of a ferociously ugly, undersized man, with scowling countenance
and great protruding paunch, seated in a chair and wearing the costume
of the early eighteenth century. The statue is of a light sandstone,
capable of high finish in sculpture; and every detail is rendered with
great care and minuteness, so that, in spite of the damp, and of the
ferns and moss that grow so plentifully about its feet, the statue has
a certain, and eerie, close resemblance to life. It is so ugly and
repellent that the sculptor was evidently more concerned about the
likeness than to flatter the original of it.
The Tamar may be reached again in something over two miles, at
Cargreen, a hamlet at whose quay the steamers generally halt. It is a
large hamlet, but why it ever came into existence, and how it manages
to exist and to flourish in a situation so remote, is difficult to
understand, except on the supposition that the barge traffic has kept
it alive. Landulph, a mile away, on a creek of its own, and not so
directly upon the main stream, is a distinct parish with an ancient
church, but it has not the mildly prosperous air of Cargreen, and
indeed consists of only two or three easily discernible houses. The
fine church contains a mural brass to Theodore Palæologus, who died
in 1636, at Clifton in Landulph, one of the last obscure descendants
of the Palæologi, who were Emperors of Byzantium from the thirteenth
century until 1453, when the Turks captured Constantinople and killed
Constantine Palæologus, the eighth and last Emperor. He was brother of
Thomas Palæologus, great-great-grandfather of the Theodore who lies
here.
The reasons for this humble descendant of a line of mighty autocrats
living and dying in England are obscure, but he appears to have
attracted the compassionate notice abroad of some of the Lower family,
who brought him home with them and lent him their house of Clifton.
Here he married one Mary Balls in 1615. Although he is sometimes stated
to be the last of his race, this is not the fact, for of his five
children three certainly survived him. John and Ferdinand have left
no traces. Theodore, the last of whom we have any knowledge, became
a lieutenant in the army of the Parliament, and died and was buried,
not unfittingly for the last representative of an Imperial line, in
Westminster Abbey, in 1644. Mary died a spinster, in 1674, and was
buried at Landulph. Dorothy, who in 1656 married a William Arundel,
died in 1681, and it is not known if she left any descendants.
The brass bears a neat representation of the double-headed imperial
eagle of Byzantium, standing upon two towers, and has this inscription:
"HERE LYETH THE BODY OF THEODORE PALEOLOGVS, OF PESARO IN ITALYE,
DESCENDED FROM Y^E IMPERYALL LYNE OF Y^E LAST CHRISTIAN EMPERORS OF
GREECE, BEING THE SONNE OF CAMILIO, Y^E SONNE OF PROSPER, THE SONNE
OF THEODORO, THE SONNE OF IOHN, Y^E SONNE OF THOMAS SECOND BROTHER TO
CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGVS; THE 8TH OF THAT NAME AND LAST OF Y^E LYNE Y^T
RAYGNED IN CONSTANTINOPLE VNTIL SVBDEWED BY THE TVRKES. WHO MARRIED
W^{TH} MARY, Y^E DAVGHTER OF WILLIAM BALLS OF HADLYE IN SOVFFOLKE,
GENT.; & HAD ISSVE 5 CHILDREN, THEODORO, IOHN, FERDINANDO, MARIA, &
DOROTHY, & DEPTED THIS LIFE AT CLYFTON, Y^E 21ST OF IANVARY, 1636."
[Illustration: "TWO MILES TO SALTASH."]
Winding roads of considerable intricacy and almost absolute loneliness
lead away from the creeks about Landulph to Botus Fleming, with a
church remarkable only for the extraordinary quantity of stucco placed
on its tower. Thence the good broad high-road leads on to Saltash, with
milestones marked rather speculatively to "S" and "C"; Saltash and
Callington being understood.