LETTERS OF THE 1880s
Cornwall reminds us of an old castle which has been stripped of its mantle of ivy. The vine may have been poisonous and weakening to the structure, but it was more beautiful to look at than the naked stones. The superstitions of the people may have been weeds rooted in ignorance, but they were more interesting than the prosaic and unimaginative condition which their extraction has left.
We entered the county where the Tamar, reaching up to the north from the Channel, separates Cornwall from Devonshire at the busy and picturesque city of Plymouth, where war seems to be an ever-present possibility, and red- coats and blue-jackets preponderate on the streets. The trumpets blare all day long, and the vast iron-clads and transports of the navy are constantly passing in and out of the beautiful harbour on imperial errands. The Sound is an irregular bay, with the city at the head of it, about three miles from the sea. An enemy would be under the cover of guns from all quarters, so well is the harbour fortified ; but in these times of peace the terraced embankments of granite and turf, with bases of spiked black rocks, are inviting to loungers, and the brownest of the Jack Tars lying on the grass has most likely never seen in his large experience of the world a more interesting picture than Plymouth Sound with its fleets of war and commerce, its cliffs reaching to Rame Head at the estuary, the long breakwater that shuts out the violence of the storms, and the softly green heights of Mount Edgcumbe on the Cornwall shore.
For several miles up the river we pass along a continuous line of war vessels at anchor, all " in ordinary," dismasted and apparently abandoned : some of them ludicrously deficient in the speed and strength which their names imply, some that look like immense fortresses, and some that are of the latest pattern. The old line-of-battle ships, two and three deckers, the smaller steam-frigates, the early iron-clad propellers, and the compact turret ships of recent build, are drawn up between the peaceful banks of the Tamar, even beyond the magnificent bridge, half a mile long, one hundred and twenty feet above high-water mark, with which the daring genius of Brunel spanned the river some twenty years ago. From underneath the vertical piers the bridge looks like a great screen, so disproportionate is its width to its length and height. It has only one track upon it, and the trains passing over it are reduced in appearance to the size of toys. On the summit of the west bank, it touches the village of Saltash, which is built down the hillside to the water's edge, and which is like most other fishing villages in Cornwall clean, solidly put together, unornamental, and a whitish-grey in colour. The deficiency of colour is dispiriting to the artist who has come from the contemplation of the more opulent architecture of the Continent. The cottages, one and two stories high, of concrete, brick, and stone, with diamond-paned windows, have been designed to shelter, without any other idea than utility. Their white or yellow walls seem to be vertical strata of the indigenous rock of their foundations. The sashes and the doors are painted black, and the streets are made of gray macadam. What little colour there is gains brilliancy from contrast with these quiet surroundings. The verdure is the greenest, and the fuchsias blaze in relief. Up on the hill, with a somewhat disorderly little graveyard enclosing it, is a serious- looking, square-towered church, like many others in Cornwall, of grey sandstone, well worn by the weather of centuries, which has smoothed all the edges. The church is nearly seven hundred years old, the tower older ; and where time has made a gap or a seam, the "restoration" has been effected in the most economical way. The concrete used to fill in has included the fragments of the ruined part, and bits of gargoyles and other carved work are found imbedded in the plaster. Look from the houses to the people there is an infallible correspondence. The men are brown and strong, a little sad, with large frames, but no spare flesh ; and the women, who are grand at the oar, are scarcely their inferiors in physical proportions. They are frank and independent in manner, gathering their living from the sea. There is little vice among them the smart dresses and chubby faces of their children are certain indications of domestic virtue ; but that some of them fall to the besetting sin of the English may be inferred from what we heard one of them say of a neighbour : " He was as drunk as forty main- tops 'l-sheet blocks."
An extract from a book “In Cornwall with an Umbrella“
by William H. Rideing
"An umbrella is essential in Cornwall. That mild equability of climate which it has been said would lead a Spaniard to suppose that there was no summer, a Canadian that there was no winter, and an American that the sun never shines, is attended by frequent rains at all seasons, and unless the visitor is prepared to be content for days together with a steady falling rain, it is more than probable that he will be defeated in his sight-seeing...It is the west wind that makes an umbrella essential in Cornwall, and we were quite resigned when, sitting in the "Flying Zulu," the fast train that was to carry us from London to Plymouth...we saw the fateful rain streaming down the windows of the car..."
"All the mining interests of Cornwall are decayed. About three-fourths of the mines are suspended or abandoned, and those in operation employ a small number of "hands" at reduced wages. "If you want to see our Cornish miners," we were told, "you must go to Pennsylvania, to Lake Superior, to Nevada; you'll find very few of them in Cornwall." When we pulled up our blinds at Redruth one morning, it was a dispiriting view that we opened. Redruth is the mining centre, a small town in the southwestern part of the county..."
"On the summit of the west bank it touches the village of Saltash...which is like most other fishing villages in Cornwall - clean, solidly put together, unornamental, and whitish-gray in color...We went to Liskeard on fair-day trusting that the occasion would bring in some farmers from out-of-the-way places whose character would be more quaint than that which we had so far seen. But Liskeard proved grievously intelligent, and the men who had cattle for sale bore an extraordinary resemblance to Yankee farmers..."
"Of the three minerals - copper, tin, and fish - which Cornwall is said to produce, the fish is a source of no little profit, and when it is plentiful, special thanksgiving services are held for it in the churches...The fishing villages are much alike - Looe, Polperro, Megavissy, (where most of the curing is done), and St. Ives. The last is perhaps the most interesting..." "Ten miles from Penzance England ends."
Extract from Thomas Moule - The English Counties Delineated;
or, A Topographical Description of England, 1838.
Cornwall
SALTASH, on the river Tamar, 4½ miles N.W. from Plymouth, in Devonshire, contains 211 houses and 1548 inhabitants. The town was formerly called Ashburgh, and is built on a steep ascent, upon the banks of the river: it was made a free borough by Reginald de Valletort, in the reign of Henry III., but a new charter was procured in 1774, under which the corporation consists of a mayor, aldermen, and an indefinite number of burgesses. The seal of the borough bears a shield, charged with the arms of Richard Earl of Cornwall, a lion rampant, within a border bezanty, surmounted by a coronet, and having at the base, water; on each side of the shield is an ostrich feather, labelled. There is a weekly market on Saturday, and annual fairs on the Tuesday before each quarter-day, on 2d February, and on 25th July, for cattle and sheep. The chapel is dedicated to St. Nicholas, and is in the presentation of the mayor.
The manor of Asshe Torre, the site of which is a rock, at the bottom of the town, abutting on the water, was held under the honor of Trematon, and has jurisdiction extending into Devonshire.
The town of Saltash is within the parish of St. Stephen, which, exclusive of the borough, contains 236 houses and 1325 inhabitants, including the hamlets of Buraton, Carkeel, and Trematon; the entire parish contains 2873 inhabitants. The honor of Trematon was held under Robert Earl of Mortaign and Cornwall, by Reginald de Valletort, whose descendant, Roger de Valletort, the last heir male of the family, granted it to Richard Earl of Cornwall, and King of the Romans. In the time of Edward the Black Prince, the estate was annexed to the Duchy of Cornwall, and he is supposed to have occasionally resided at Trematon Castle, which was built by Robert Earl of Mortaign and Cornwall, and stands in a beautiful situation on the banks of the Lynher. There are at present considerable remains of the old castle; a survey of the Duchy, dated 1337, describes a hall, with a kitchen and lodging chamber, as built by Edward Earl of Cornwall, and mentions an ancient chapel within the gatehouse of the castle. There is no account of this castle having been occupied by either party during the civil war in the seventeenth century; but a survey made by order of parliament, in 1650, after stating that lands were held, under the honor of Trematon, by the service of the tenants, repairing every one his part of the castle, adds, that it was so much out of repair, that there was scarcely any thing but the walls left on the southern side, that there was on that side an old house, in which the keeper dwelt, and kept prisoners that were arrested within the honor. On the south-eastern side was a barn, which had been a chapel, and near it a gatehouse with several rooms. A house was afterwards erected within the base court, by Benjamin Tucker, Esq. surveyor-general of the Duchy of Cornwall. Viscount Trematon was one of the titles conferred upon William Duke of Cumberland, in 1726.
St. Stephen's church is a vicarage, united with the chapel of Saltash, valued at 26l., in the patronage of the dean and chapter of Windsor, to whom it was granted by Edward the Black Prince.
Stoketon House, built about 1770, is the seat of Admiral De Courcy, and commands many interesting points of view in the adjacent county.
Nottar Bridge, in this parish, crosses the river Lynher in a singularly romantic and beautiful valley, about three miles from Saltash, in the road to St. Germans. The scenery here consists of bold and lofty crags, slightly covered with heath and shrubbery of natural growth. The river Lynher, after receiving the water of the Tidi, continues a winding course between Sheviock and St. Stephens, to the promontory of Erth, where it spreads into a wide lake, and falls into the Tamar, about a mile below the borough of Saltash. Near its confluence with the Tamar, on the northern bank of the Lynher, is Weard House, the seat of Henry Harrison, Esq., commanding an uninterrupted prospect of both rivers, the scenery of which is said to include the greatest variety of interesting combinations that can be found in England.
