A Book of Cornwall

A writer in the Standard of this latter year thus describes his first acquaintance with the vicar of Morwenstow: -

"It was on a solemn occasion that we first saw Morwenstow. The sea was still surly and troubled, with wild lights breaking over it and torn clouds driving through the sky. Up from the shore, along a narrow path between jagged rocks and steep banks tufted with thrift, came the vicar, wearing cassock and surplice, and conducting a sad procession, which bore along with it the bodies of two seamen flung up the same morning on the sands. The office used by Mr. Hawker at such times had been arranged by himself, not without reference to certain peculiarities which, as he conceived, were features of the primitive Cornish Church, the same which had had its bishops and its traditions long before the conference of Augustine with its leaders under the great oak by the Severn. Indeed, at one time he carried his adhesion to these Cornish traditions to some unusual lengths. There was, we remember, a peculiar yellow vestment, in which he appeared much like a Lama of Thibet, which he wore in his house and about his parish, and which he insisted was an exact copy of a priestly robe worn by S. Padarn and S. Teilo. We have seen him in this attire proceeding through the lanes on the back of a well-groomed mule-the only fitting beast, as he remarked, for a churchman."

We have here an instance out of many of the manner in which he delighted in hoaxing visitors. The yellow vestment was a poncho. It came into use in the following manner: -

Mr. Martyn, of Tonnacombe, was in conversation one day with Mr. Hawker, when the latter complained that he could not get a greatcoat to his fancy, and one that would keep him dry against the rainstorms.

"Why not have a poncho?" asked his neighbour.

"Poncho! what is that?"

"Nothing but a blanket with a hole in the middle."

"Do you put your legs through the hole and tie the four corners over your head?"

"No," answered Mr. Martyn. "I will fetch you mine, and you shall try it on."

The poncho was produced; it was dark blue, and the vicar was delighted with it. Next time he went to Bideford he bought a yellowish brown rug, and had a hole cut in the middle through which to thrust his head.

"I wouldn't wear your livery, Martyn," said he, "nor your political colours, so I have got a yellow poncho."

Those who knew him can picture to themselves the sly twinkle in his eye as he informed his credulous visitor that he was invested in the habit of S. Padarn and S. Teilo.

But his dress was extraordinary enough without the poncho. He was wont to wear a knitted blue sailor's jersey, sea-boots above his knees, and a claret-coloured coat and a clerical wide-awake of the same colour. He had a great aversion to black. "Why should we parsons be like crows-birds of ill-luck?" he would say. "Black-black-are we children of darkness? Black is the colour of devils only."

A real poet he was, but desultory, rarely able to remain fixed at work and carry out a project to the end. He was an excellent ballad-writer, but he could do better than write ballads. He began a great poem on the "Quest of the Sangreal," but it remains a fragment.

Here is one short specimen of a ballad, the lament of a Cornish mother over her dead child: -

"They say 'tis a sin to sorrow-
That what God doth is best,
But 'tis only a month to-morrow
I buried it from my breast.

"I know it should be a pleasure
Your child to God to send;
But mine was a precious treasure,
To me and my poor friend.

"I thought it would call me mother,
The very first words it said;
Oh! I never can love another
Like the blessed babe that's dead.

"Well, God is its own dear Father,
It was carried to church and bless'd;
And our Saviour's arms will gather
Such children to their rest.

"I will check this foolish sorrow,
For what God doth is best;
But oh! 'tis a month to-morrow
I buried it from my breast."

Note.-For further information see my Vicar of Morwenstow. New and revised edition. Methuen. 1899.

CHAPTER X

SALTASH

Old Town Hall demolished-Nicholas Tyack-Borough of Esh-Charters-Albert Bridge-Harbour dues-Contested elections-Continued contests-Situation of Saltash-Old houses-The Porter family-The Bonds of Earth-The boatwomen-Ann Glanville-In the Civil War-Sentences of the court-Chapel of the Guildhall-Silver cup-Trematon Castle-Riot at Saltash-Modern Guildhall-Maces-Old shop.

"Just three weeks too late."

That was the answer I received on reaching Saltash and inquiring after the old Town Hall. It had been pulled down and carted away, and now a hole in a range of buildings, like that in the jaw produced by the extraction of a tooth, shows where the old Town Hall had been.

It is a pity it is gone.

Beside it stood an ancient house that had been occupied during the Commonwealth and the reign of Charles II. by Nicholas Tyack, the mayor. Nicholas Tyack was a turncoat, but somehow, whichever way he turned his coat he always turned it to his advantage.

Under the Commonwealth he was not only mayor, but a great Presbyterian luminary. He harangued and expounded Revelation always in favour of the Commonwealth and Presbyterianism, and against the Crown and the Mitre. But no sooner did Charles II. land than he swung completely round. All his political and religious views changed, and he declared that the great horn was Old Noll and the little horn was Dickon. By this means Nicholas Tyack secured his position, and remained mayor of Saltash. He had been high-handed in his proceedings before; he became more high-handed under the Restoration. He wanted to apprentice his son in London; so he took the youth to town, lived well whilst there, and on his return charged the expenses to the town.

Nicholas had a great advantage in living next door to the Town Hall, for he was able to break a way into it through the intervening wall. According to custom and rule, when a meeting of the Town Council was convened, the Town Hall bell had to be rung; but there was no specification as to the hour at which a meeting was to be held, nor was it laid down in black and white that the Hall door was to be unlocked for the occasion. Now when Nicholas Tyack desired to pass his accounts, or to transfer some bit of Corporation land to himself, or legitimatise any other little game to his advantage and the detriment of the public, he rang the bell at night, kept the Hall door locked, and admitted his adherents through his private door, held the meeting in the council-chamber, and passed his accounts and resolutions nem. con.

But now both the Town Hall and Tyack's house have been swept away. The latter had a fine mullioned and many-light window. The house went first; then the Guildhall.

The story of the borough of Esh, Esc, or Saltash is specially interesting, as it affords us a precious glimpse into the history of the origin and growth of our municipal towns.

Esh, that is to say, water, was so-called because situated on the tidal estuary of the united Tamar and Tavy, which junction bears the name of the Hamoaze (Hem-uisg), the border water between Devon and Cornwall, between the English and the British tongues.

Here by the water-side settled some serfs, or "natives in stock," of the Baron de Valletort.

"Natives of stock were the purest and most absolute bondmen. They were entirely subject to the will of their lord, and were subject to being placed in any tenement in which he might think fit to place them; and were compelled to do for him any work he might call upon them to do; and to pay a sort of capitation tax if they were allowed to be employed elsewhere."[13 - Lord Tenterden in the summing up of Rowe v. Brenton, 1830.]

Living beside the water, these serfs ferried across to Devonport, managed the fishery, raised oysters, had a mill, and tilled the land for their lord. But a charter of 1381 exists which is a confirmation by Reginald de Valletort of earlier charters, wherein his ancestors had emancipated these serfs, and had conferred on them considerable liberties. They had been granted certain holdings of land as customary tenants. They were given a certain tract of land for common use, for pasturage, etc.; they were accorded the "ferébote," the mill, and the right to organise themselves into a corporation with an elected "prepositur." For all this and other liberties they were required to pay a small acknowledgment to the feudal lord.

This charter was confirmed by royal grant in 1385.

Now the number of conventional tenancies was always the same, but some of the old habitations on them were pulled down and the sites converted into gardens, and others were divided up and numerous houses erected on them. The holders of the tenancies were free burgesses, and formed the sole body which elected the aldermen and mayor.

In course of time a very curious condition of affairs arose. The ancient burgage holdings were 160; but many had fallen and were not rebuilt, and the population of Saltash had vastly extended beyond the bounds of the ancient borough.

The corporators, or holders of the old free burgages, engrossed to themselves all power and profit, and excluded from participation the inhabitants who were not living in the old tenements or on the land where these had stood. This led to a series of angry disputes. The privileges were worth fighting for. The corporators grew fat on them, and their faces shone. The harbour dues-one shilling from every English vessel and two from every foreign keel that anchored in the Hamoaze, and seven from each Spanish ship, charged after the Armada[14 - After the Armada the Corporation of Saltash raised the harbour due to seven shillings for a Spanish ship. This sum is still paid by Trinity House, which, however, exacts two shillings only from the Spaniards, the same as from a French or German vessel.]-this brought in much money; so did the common land now built over, so did the oyster fishery, so did the ferry.

Almost every election of mayor and aldermen led to riots, and the place simmered perpetually with discontent. This angry feeling was greatly aggravated when Saltash became a borough, returning two members, and political controversy was added to the local and borough grievance. By this time, moreover, the number of free burgages had sunk to about sixty. Contest succeeded contest, the inhabitants claiming a right to vote.

In 1784 the corporation, won over by Government promises and appointments, voted as one man for their nominees. But forty-five freeholders tendered their votes for the opposition candidates put forward by their overlords. The House of Commons decided against these latter, and the Government candidates and the rights of the corporators were confirmed. Two years later, this decision against the freeholders was reversed. During four years (1786-1790) the question in whom the right of voting rested was four times decided-now in one way, then in another. Finally a compromise was arrived at-one representative of each set of electors sat for Saltash and "tied" on every important vote in the House. In 1806 the corporation was again successful.