7–13 September 1846

Immediately after breakfast, Albert left me to land and visit some mines. The corporation of Penryn were on board, and very anxious to see “The Duke of Cornwall,” so I stepped out of the pavilion on deck with Bertie, and Lord Palmerston told them that that was “The Duke of Cornwall;” and the old mayor of Penryn said that “he hoped he would grow up a blessing to his parents and to his country.” A little before four o’clock, we all got into the barge, with the two children, and rowed to the “Fairy.” We rowed through a literal lane of boats, full of people, who had surrounded the yacht ever since early in the morning, and proceeded up the river by St. Just’s Pool, to the left of which lies Sir C. Lemon’s place, and Trefusis belonging to Lord Clinton. We went up the Truro, which is beautiful,—something like the Tamar, but almost finer, though not so bold as Pentillie Castle and Cothele,—winding between banks entirely wooded with stunted oak, and full of numberless creeks. The prettiest are King Harry’s Ferry and a spot near Tregothnan (Lord Falmouth’s), where there is a beautiful little boat-house, quite in the woods, and on the river, at the point where the Tregony separates from the Truro. Albert said the position of this boat-house put him in mind of Tell’s Chapel in Switzerland. We went a little way up the Tregony, which is most beautiful, with high sloping banks, thickly wooded down to the water’s edge. Then we turned back and went up the Truro to Malpas, another bend of the river, from whence one can see Truro, the capital of Cornwall. We stopped here awhile, as so many boats came out from a little place called Sunny Corner, just below Truro, in order to see us; indeed the whole population poured out on foot and in carts, &c. along the banks; and cheered, and were enchanted when Bertie was held up for them to see. It was a very pretty, gratifying sight. We went straight on to Swan Pool outside Pendennis Castle, where we got into the barge, and rowed near to the shore to see a net drawn. Mr. Fox, a Quaker, who lives at Falmouth, and has sent us flowers, fruit, and many other things, proposed to put in his net and draw, that we might see all sorts of fish caught, but when it was drawn there was not one fish! So we went back to the “Fairy.” The water near the shore in Swan Pool is so wonderfully clear that one could count the pebbles.

A wet morning when we rose and breakfasted with the children. At about ten o’clock we entered Fowey, which is situated in a creek much like Dartmouth, only not so beautiful, but still very pretty. We got into the barge (leaving the children on board, and also Lord Spencer, who was not quite well), and landed at Fowey with our ladies and gentlemen, and Mr. Taylor, whom we had brought with us from Falmouth. We got into our carriage with the ladies, the gentlemen following in others, and drove through some of the narrowest streets I ever saw in England, and up perpendicular hills in the streets—it really quite alarmed one; but we got up and through them quite safely. We then drove on for a long way, on bad and narrow roads, higher and higher up, commanding a fine and very extensive view of the very hilly country of Cornwall, its hills covered with fields, and intersected by hedges. At last we came to one field where there was no road whatever, but we went down the hill quite safely, and got out of the carriage at the top of another hill, where, surrounded by woods, stands a circular ruin, covered with ivy, of the old castle of Restormel, belonging to the Duchy of Cornwall, and in which the last Earl of Cornwall lived in the thirteenth century. It was very picturesque from this point. We visited here the Restormel mine, belonging also to the Duchy of Cornwall. It is an iron mine, and you go in on a level. Albert and I got into one of the trucks and were dragged in by miners, Mr. Taylor walking behind us. The miners wear a curious woollen dress, with a cap and they generally have a candle stuck in front of the cap. This time candlesticks were stuck along the sides of the mine, and those who did not drag or push the truck carried lights. Albert and the gentlemen wore miners’ hats. There was no room for any one to pass between the trucks and the rock, and only just room enough to hold up one’s head, and not always that. It had a most curious effect, and there was something unearthly about this lit-up cavern-like place. We got out and scrambled a little way to see the veins of ore, and Albert knocked off some pieces; but in general it is blown by gunpowder, being so hard. The miners seemed so pleased at seeing us, and are intelligent, good people. It was quite dazzling when we came into daylight again. We then got into our carriage and passed through the small town of Lostwithiel, where an address was presented to us, and then we passed through Mr. Agar Robarts’ Park, which reminded one of Cothele. We returned by the same road till near Fowey, when we went through some of the narrowest lanes I almost ever drove through, and so fearfully stony. We drove along high above the river to Place, belonging to Mr. Treffry, which has been restored according to drawings in his possession, representing the house as it was in former times. A lady of that name defended the house against the French during the absence of her husband, in the fourteenth or fifteenth century. The old gentleman showed us all over the house, and into an unfinished hall, lined with marble and porphyry, all of which came from Cornwall. We then walked down to the place of embarkation and proceeded at once to the yacht. Mr. Taylor deserved the greatest credit for all the arrangements. He and his father are what are called “Adventurers” of the mine.

We got up about seven o’clock and found we had just passed The Needles.