The ancient Guildhall of West Looe, said to have been built originally as a monastic chapel, is a picturesque old building, the framework of which is composed of ships' beams. The cage for scolds has disappeared, but the stocks, of a very barbarous kind, have been placed across an open gable. The building was re-consecrated in 1852, since when services have been regularly held within it.
The eleven miles that separate Fowey from Looe should be traversed on foot by way of Talland, Polperro, and Polruan. Talland Church is delightfully placed, while its tower is connected with the main building by means of a porch. The bench ends within are very interesting, particularly a set with finials in the form of winged figures administering the Eucharist. These pew ends are quite unlike any others in the country, and they are somewhat of an ecclesiastical puzzle. From Talland a rocky coast walk of less than two miles leads to Polperro, with the narrowest of all the narrow little ravines that offer shelter to the mariner on this exposed portion of the coast. The antiquary Leland describes it as "a little fischar towne with a peere". It is an extraordinary jumble of habitations which press upon each other so closely that it is only by wriggling through the narrow streets and turnings that one can make any progress at all.
There is no coast track west of Polperro and both the roads to Fowey are very hilly. The pedestrian should proceed by way of Lansallos, where the church in the Perpendicular style forms a conspicuous sea-mark. From Polruan the descent to Fowey is very steep, but the view of the harbour from the high land is one of great charm.
As we look at the little stranded and sunlit port to-day, it is difficult to realize that Fowey once shared with Plymouth and Dartmouth the maritime honours of the south-west coast. In those days Looe, Penryn, and Truro were regarded as creeks under Fowey. The harbour, which is navigable as far as Lostwithiel, a distance of eight miles, is formed mainly by the estuary of the river Fowey, the town stretching along the western bank of the harbour for a mile.
Seen for the first time Fowey is a revelation. Much known and rather too much visited, it is yet one of Cornwall's most picturesque and interesting towns. Nature and art have combined to make it so; the art of the old village builder, not the so-called art of to-day. A modern element exists, but it is of small proportions. May it always remain so.
Standing on the heights one looks down upon the river below. On either side is a jumble of ancient houses with leaning and weather-stained walls. It is doubtful if we ought to admire such ill-ventilated and out-of-date dwelling houses, in this essentially scientific age. But the general effect of line, of light and shade produced by a mass of broken and highly unconventional contours—gables where there should be chimneys, and chimneys where one is accustomed to look for doorposts—is highly satisfactory and pleasing from the artist's point of view.
Steep hills and zigzag roads, at every alarming angle of declivity, intercept the labyrinth of houses, which stand on each other's heads, or peep over each other's shoulders, and settle down on the ledges of the river bank.
