ST. MAWES CASTLE.
St. Mawes Castle shares with Pendennis, on the opposite headland, the duty of defending the entrance to Falmouth Harbour from the open sea; but the saints—St. Mawes and others—preserve us from reliance upon such defenders! They may have been formidable castles of the battery kind when originally built by Henry the Eighth, who, apart from his strange matrimonial experiments, is a very much misunderstood monarch, but they could not nowadays give an enemy the slightest hesitation. All the same, elaborate pretences are maintained, and Pendennis and St. Mawes are girdled about with War Office prohibitions; just as though they were not shams that fail to deceive any one.
Historians, too busy with the domestic affairs of Henry the Eighth, and too interested in the great religious cataclysm of his reign, do not award him the title of "patriot king" that is really his due. He was a mighty builder of coastwise batteries against possible invasion; not only ordaining the building of them, but travelling much to see that they were built upon the most effective situations. From the coast of Kent to the Isles of Scilly his pot-bellied batteries are to be found: formidable in their day and still often occupied by details of Garrison Artillery playing a great game of make-believe, in which neither the foreigner nor the Englishman has any faith. Latin inscriptions carved on the exterior walls of St. Mawes Castle give Henry his due, and, he at last being dead, piously hope Edward the Sixth will resemble him. Here is the English of them:
"Henry, thy honour and praises shall always remain."
"May happy Cornwall now rejoice, Edward being chief."
"May Edward be like his father in deeds and reputation."
I think the person who composed that last line and also the other person who cut it in the stone must have smiled at it, just as every one has done in all the three and a half centuries since.
Half-way across the entrance to the Harbour is the Black Rock, visible at low water, but covered at the flood. It is the subject of a story which tells how a Trefusis of Trefusis, not living on altogether satisfactory terms with his wife, determined to be rid of her in an ingenious way. "Shall we, my dear," said he, "sail down the harbour and land at Black Rock?" "Agreed," she replied, unsuspecting; and so they proceeded to the spot. He handed her ashore, and then jumped again into the boat and made off, leaving her, as he supposed, to drown. But unfortunately, from his point of view, some fishermen later on brought her off and home. The lady bade them wait, and her husband would suitably reward them. "To the Devil with you!" he exclaimed, in a fury; "you have played me a sorry trick indeed, and so you'll get nothing. You might have earned gold by leaving her there!"
There is ample opportunity in crossing from St. Mawes to Falmouth by steamer to perceive the truth of Carew's remark, that a hundred sail of vessels might anchor in Falmouth Harbour and not one see the mast of another. In these latter days this magnificent haven is not put to much use, and Falmouth has since 1850 ceased to be the West Indian mail-packet station. In that year its long and honourable connection with the Admiralty and the Post Office, which had been continuous since 1688, ended in favour of Southampton.
The town of Falmouth is seen hiding snugly away at the opening of Penryn Creek, on the inner side of the low-lying isthmus connecting the headland of Pendennis with the mainland. It is not an ancient place, and did not, in fact, come officially into existence until 1660, although some few years earlier the custom-house had been removed from Penryn and a market had been established in 1652. On August 20th, 1660, a proclamation was issued by the King, in answer to a petition by Sir Peter Killigrew, commanding that "Smithike, alias Penny-come-Quick, shall for ever after this day be called, named, and known by the name of Falmouth."