Baring-Gould tells us that when he first saw Looe it struck him as one of the oddest old-world places in England. There was a booth-theatre fitted up, and luring the folk to its dingy green canvas enclosure. "The repertoire comprised blood-curdling tragedies. I went in and saw 'The Midnight Assassin; or, The Dumb Witness.' Next evening was to be given 'The Vampire's Feast; or, The Rifled Tomb.' This tragedy was followed by Allingham's play, 'Fortune's Frolick,' adapted to the narrow capacities of the company. It was performed in broad Cornish, and interspersed with some rather good and I fancy original songs. But surely nowhere else but at Looe could such a reminiscence of the old strolling company-show of fifty or sixty years ago be seen." It is said that there are still queer things to be seen at the annual fair of May 6th, the West Looe "cattle and pleasure fair." But the contact with outside influences has had its natural effect; Looe is not quite what it once was; better approaches have been made, so that the visitor no longer drops sheer upon the roofs of the houses as he did once; the claims of local improvement and sanitation have done something to remove quaint and characteristic features. Yet there are still picturesque whitewashed houses with ragged gables and outside staircases; there are still curious old porches and delightful hanging-gardens where myrtle, hydrangea, and geranium can thrive all the year round. The shops still partake of the dual character that we find in quiet villages, so that the grocer is also the chemist and the butcher is the greengrocer. In one case the grocer has not only a chemist's store but also keeps a circulating library—a charming confusion of trades that enables the visitor to do his shopping within very limited range. The fishing done here, both professionally and as a sport, is fairly considerable; the Looe fishing-fleet often goes as far afield as the shores of Ireland, but when at home the men hang about the quay in the usual fashion of their kind, getting an occasional job with visitors, but more often enjoying that dreamy laziness for which they appear supremely qualified. They have the faculty of gazing long and intently at nothing, and of disputing for hours over subjects of scarcely greater tangibility; but their capabilities and efficiency must not be measured by their customary longshore attitude. Sometimes their wrangling almost equals that of the gulls that clamour in crowds about the small harbour, and that are always on the look-out for refuse thrown from the boats or from the quaysides. A special haunt of these gulls is the little Looe Island lying off West Looe, which is about a mile in circumference and 170 feet in height. This islet, also called St. George's Isle, because a chapel to St. George once stood here, is of great value to the river-mouth as a natural breakwater, and was once of further value as an inestimable aid in smuggling. Traces of the chapel may yet be seen on the summit of the isle, and human remains found here may possibly date from an early Christian settlement; but the prevailing memories of the island are by no means saintly. It was once occupied by a reprobate pair who certainly lived the "simple life" to perfection so far as locality was concerned, but whose simplicity may otherwise be doubted. These were a man named Fyn and his sister "Black Joan," who appear to have been born on the Mewstone, near Plymouth, and who were as wild as their companion seabirds. Their desperate cleverness assisted ably in the running of many an untaxed cargo; and even when a coastguard was placed on the island itself, his vigilance was quite insufficient to baffle them. The smugglers of Whitsand Bay well knew the uses of Looe island, and made frequent expeditions to it. The supposed fishermen of Cawsand did far more smuggling than they did in their avowed avocation, finding it more exciting and profitable; they were joined by many wild spirits from Plymouth, discharged navy men, loafers, and dare-devils. A special kind of galley was built to suit them, ostensibly intended for seine-fishing, but in reality adapted for high speed and easy handling; and these boats often made the journey to and from the French shores, in the face of terrible danger not only from Preventive forces, but from sea and rock. Very often the cargoes were not landed at all from these boats, but were sunk near shore, to be fetched as opportunity offered. Suspicion soon attached to these fleet Cawsand fishing-boats, and when they set forth on their apparently innocent purpose, the coastguard men were in a state of irritated expectancy; they knew too often that they were being fooled, yet their task of prevention was both difficult and perilous. The order used to be sent out that "a rocket and blue-light will be fired from the Ramehead when the galleys go afloat, as a signal to Polperro." Many of the smugglers' tricks reveal invention of a high order. After their own galleys had earned too much of a risky reputation, many having been taken in the act, their owners resorted to the device of chartering French vessels, with which, under certain limits, the revenue cruisers could not interfere. It may be guessed that unscrupulous confederates on Looe island were able to play an important part in such enterprises; so that Fyn and "Black Joan" enjoyed a life of constant excitement, and an unlimited supply of the best spirits. Not many years since the floor of a barn on the islet collapsed, and underneath was discovered a cellar for the storage of such spirits. It will be seen that St. George's Isle fully deserved its share in the evil repute that formerly attached to such islands as the haunt of desperadoes; Lundy, off the North Devon coast, is another instance. It was probably in remembrance of this isle and its chapel that the Looe ship was named the
George, of which it is related that, many centuries since, it attacked and captured three French vessels single-handed. But of this, and of Looe's nobler memories generally, there is small record.
In place of such we have an interesting memorial of Looe's former use of the "cage," a companion instrument to the pillory. It is stated that "at East Looe Hannah Whit and Bessie Niles, two women of fluent tongue, having exerted their oratory on each other, at last thought it prudent to leave the matter in dispute to be settled by the Mayor. Away they posted to his worship. The first who arrived had scarce begun her tale when the other bounced in in full rage, and began hers likewise, and abuse commenced with redoubled vigour. His worship, Mr. John Chubb, ordered the constable to be called, and each of the combatants thought her antagonist was going to be punished, and each thought right. When the constable arrived, his worship pronounced the following command to him, 'Take these two women to the cage, and there keep them till they have settled their dispute.'" It is therefore clear that the name of John Chubb must be added to the roll of Looe heroes; and something may also be said for the constable—if he accomplished his mission safely.
There are many beautiful walks to be enjoyed from Looe, one being along the cliffs to Downderry; still more delightful is the walk along the banks of the West Looe River to Watergate, where the luxuriant foliage and the rich undergrowth of ferns are a perpetual joy. Such wooded loveliness is of a kind that we do not usually associate with Cornwall, though it is amply to be found in different parts of the Duchy; it is more like parts of the Lyn or the Wye than what is generally attributed to Cornwall. Another beautiful walk or row is up the east river to Sandplace. Talland also should certainly be visited; it is about two miles from West Looe, of which it is the mother-parish. The church, with its campanile tower, is most finely situated among wooded hills, and contains some beautiful workmanship. There is an altar-tomb of Sir John Beville, 1574; and there are bench-ends bearing Beville and Grenville arms. The families were connected, as we are reminded by the name of the noble Sir Beville Grenville. The transept was formerly known as the Killigarth Chapel; and Killigarth, close by, was formerly the Beville manor, noted in old days for its prodigal hospitality. The house has been destroyed, and a farm stands on the site, retaining the old name. A mile or two inland is Trelawne, another notable Cornish manor associated with one of the great old families. Parts of the house, which is in Pelynt parish, date from the fifteenth century, but a great deal of restoration has been done. The Trelawneys removed hither from Alternon in 1600. Mrs. Bray's novel, Trelawney of Trelawne, gives many particulars about the family and the locality; but this typical Cornish name is now chiefly recalled by the refrain of Hawker's "Song of the Western Men":—
"And shall Trelawney die?
Here's twenty thousand Cornishmen
Will know the reason why."
Hawker's song, which both Scott and Macaulay took to be a genuine old local ballad, was skilfully woven around those three lines and made to apply to the committal of the Seven Bishops, Sir Jonathan Trelawney, then Bishop of Bristol, being one of the Seven. The ballad had an enormous circulation and reputation, but, being issued anonymously, brought little renown to its author. The refrain is generally supposed, and was believed by Hawker himself, to belong to a popular ballad of the days when the bishops were committed; but it seems to have been earlier still, and to belong directly to this neighbourhood of West Looe. It has been revealed that an earlier Trelawney was imprisoned in the Tower
