Flushing, a little over-the-water town opposite Falmouth, shares with the neighbouring St. Gluvias the reputation of being the warmest place in England. It is said to have been founded by Dutchmen, from Flushing in Holland. Near by it is the hamlet curiously known as Little Falmouth; a place with a few waterside houses and remains of a granite-built dock, commanding views down to Falmouth and Pendennis, which looks like an island from here. Little Falmouth, with its decaying dock, forms a picturesque scene of blighted hopes.
The old town of Penryn, at the head of Penryn Creek, is even more dirty than Falmouth, and does not look prosperous. Falmouth, as Penryn surely foresaw, has filched away much of the trade, and although the shipping of granite from the neighbouring quarries of Mabe and Constantine gives employment still, it is not an increasing business. The parish church is quite apart from the town, in the village of St. Gluvias. The saint of that name appears to have been a Welshman. He spelt his name "Glywys," a fearful mouthful for a Saxon to deal with, and apparently not easy even for a Cornishman, seeing that Cornwall has modified the name. Glywys was brother to St. Cadoc, or Cadwg, and I have no doubt called cousins with half a hundred others.
LITTLE FALMOUTH.
Penryn is closely associated with two Lady Killigrews, who are generally confused almost inextricably with one another. The Killigrew family of Arwenack, where Falmouth town now stands, had striven from about 1602 for a new town and market to be planted there, and thus earned the undying hatred of Penryn; and so it happened that when Sir John Killigrew and his wife quarrelled and fought, he for divorce and she against it, about 1620, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to take refuge in Penryn, and there, encouraged by the bad blood of the place, to protract ruinous litigation with her husband. All the evidence seems to show that she was as bad a character as possible, even though she came of an old landed family, the Fermors, afterwards Barons Lempster and Earls of Pomfret. This Lady Jane Killigrew was at last divorced, but the unhappy Sir John did not long survive his victory, and his unamiable wife thereupon presented to the Corporation of Penryn the tall silver Killigrew Cup still in existence, inscribed: "1633 From Maior to Maior to the towne of Permarin, where they received mee that was in great misery, Jane Killygrew."
The earlier Lady Killigrew was Mary, wife of another Sir John, grandfather of the unhappy man just mentioned. It was in January 1583 that the Spanish ship Maria, upon which she exercised her piratical genius, sailed into Falmouth Harbour and cast anchor. The crew remained on board, but the two merchants who owned her cargo went to a Penryn inn. Lady Killigrew seems to have entirely originated the scheme of piracy and murder that was carried through. She procured a boatload of fishermen, sworn to secrecy, who at midnight swarmed aboard and murdered some of the Spaniards, and flung others into the sea. They then took the vessel to Ireland. The spoils of the Spanish ship consisted of holland-cloth and leather, together with two hogsheads of Spanish pieces of eight. It had been intended to cajole the two merchants aboard, on some pretext, and so to murder all concerned with the vessel, but they remained ashore. Not even in those times was it possible to commit piracy and murder in home waters altogether with impunity; and by some means the owners heard of what had really happened, and sought redress of the Government. In the end, Lady Killigrew and two of her fellow-conspirators were found guilty and sentenced to death. Unfortunately, the influence brought to bear on behalf of Lady Killigrew procured her a pardon. The others, not being persons of quality, were hanged in an expeditious and workmanlike manner.
Round Trefusis Point opens Mylor Creek, a mile and a half long, with Mylor village appearing at the opening and the much larger village of Mylor Bridge at its inland extremity. Mylor is a favourite place for afternoon excursions from Falmouth, and there are farmhouse tea-gardens amid much charming woodland scenery.
St. Melor, to whom the church is dedicated, and after whom the village of Mylor is in turn named, was traditionally martyred here. Other legends, however, place the scene of his death in Brittany. He was son of Melian, King of Cornu-Gallia, or Brittany, in the sixth century. Melian himself is said to have been killed in A.D. 537, by his brother, Rivold, and is regarded as something of a saint in Brittany. The village of Guimiliau enshrines his name.
Rivold then, having ended King Melian, mutilated his son, Melor, by cutting off his right hand and left foot; the object being to invalidate him from the succession to the throne, the Armorican laws forbidding any who suffered from physical disabilities from becoming King. The affectionate servants of Melor, however, provided him with a silver hand and a brazen foot, which became miraculously endowed with the powers and attributes of his lost natural members. Melor, sent to the monastery of Saint Corantine, became so saintly and therefore so dangerous to the usurper Rivold, that his death was resolved upon. One Cerialtan, a man-of-all-work in crime, was commissioned to end him; his promised reward being "as much land as he could see from the summit of Mount Coc"—wherever that may be. Cerialtan, in workmanlike manner, cut off Melor's head as he lay asleep, and conveyed it to Rivold, who carried out his compact to the letter, if not to the spirit; for he caused Cerialtan's eyes to be put out, and then had him to the crest of that high place and bade him look upon the land!
And that is all I know about the Life and Times of St. Melor; or at any rate, that is the most likely among the different marvellous stories from which the investigator is at liberty to choose. But legendary vagueness pervades all of them, and there is the very wide choice of dates between A.D. 411 and 537 for the speculative to select from.