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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:38:15 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:38:15 -0700 |
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diff --git a/28367-h/28367-h.htm b/28367-h/28367-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..11a65f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/28367-h/28367-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6918 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rambles Beyond Railways, by Wilkie Collins. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + p { margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + h1 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h5,h6 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h2 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + h3 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + h4 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + a {text-decoration: none} /* no lines under links */ + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + ul {list-style-type: none} /* no bullets on lists */ + ul.nest {margin-top: .15em; margin-bottom: .15em; text-indent: -1.5em;} /* spacing for nested list */ + li {margin-top: .15em; margin-bottom: .15em;} /* spacing for list */ + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* centering paragraphs */ + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* small caps, smaller font size */ + .noin {text-indent: 0em;} /* no indenting */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} /* right aligning paragraphs */ + .img {text-align: center; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} /* centering images */ + .tdr {text-align: right;} /* right align cell */ + .tdrp {text-align: right; padding-right: 1em;} /* right align with padding */ + .tdc {text-align: center;} /* center align cell */ + .tdl {text-align: left;} /* left align cell */ + .tr {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} /* transcriber's notes */ + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; right: 2%; + font-size: 75%; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal;} /* page numbers */ + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 90%;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right; font-size: 90%;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: text-top; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rambles Beyond Railways;, by Wilkie Collins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Rambles Beyond Railways; + or, Notes in Cornwall taken A-foot + +Author: Wilkie Collins + +Release Date: March 20, 2009 [EBook #28367] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS; *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, Barbara Kosker and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h1>RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS.</h1> + +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/frontis.jpg" width="90%" alt="Lamorna Cove." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">LAMORNA COVE.</p> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h1>RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS;</h1> + +<h4>OR,</h4> + +<h2>Notes in Cornwall taken A-Foot.</h2> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2><span class="smcap">By</span> WILKIE COLLINS,</h2> + +<h4> AUTHOR OF<br /> + "ANTONINA," "THE WOMAN IN WHITE," ETC.</h4> + +<br /> + +<div class="img"> +<a href="images/title.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/title.jpg" width="40%" alt="The Land's End, Cornwall." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">The Land's End, Cornwall.</p> +</div> + +<br /> + +<h4><i>NEW EDITION.</i></h4> +<br /> + +<h4> LONDON:<br /> +RICHARD BENTLEY: NEW BURLINGTON STREET.<br /> + Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.<br /> + 1861.</h4> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>DEDICATED TO<br /> + +THE COMPANION OF MY WALK THROUGH CORNWALL,<br /> + +HENRY C. BRANDLING.</h3> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + +<h4>TO</h4> + +<h3>THE PRESENT EDITION.</h3> +<br /> + +<p>I visited Cornwall, for the first time, in the summer and autumn of +1850; and in the winter of the same year, I wrote this book.</p> + +<p>At that time, the title attached to these pages was strictly descriptive +of the state of the county, when my companion and I walked through it. +But when, little more than a year afterwards, a second edition of this +volume was called for, the all-conquering railway had invaded Cornwall +in the interval, and had practically contradicted me on my own +title-page.</p> + +<p>To rechristen my work was out of the question—I should simply have +destroyed its individuality. Ladies may, and do, often change their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> +names for the better; but books enjoy no such privilege. In this +embarrassing position, I ended by treating the ill-timed intrusion of +the railway into my literary affairs, as a certain Abbé (who was also an +author,) once treated the overthrow of the Swedish Constitution, in the +reign of Gustavus the Third. Having written a profound work, to prove +that the Constitution, as at that time settled, was secure from all +political accidents, the Abbé was surprised in his study, one day, by +the appearance of a gentleman, who disturbed him over the correction of +his last proof-sheet. "Sir!" said the gentleman; "I have looked in to +inform you that the Constitution has just been overthrown." To which the +Abbé replied:—"Sir! they may overthrow the Constitution, but they can't +overthrow <span class="smcap">My Book</span>"—and he quietly went on with his work.</p> + +<p>On precisely similar principles, I quietly went on with <span class="smcap">my +Title-Page</span>.</p> + +<p>So much for the name of the book. For the book itself, as published in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> +its present form, I have a last word to say, before these prefatory +lines come to an end.</p> + +<p>Cornwall no longer offers the same comparatively untrodden road to the +literary traveller which it presented when I went there. Many writers +have made the journey successfully, since my time. Mr. Walter White, in +his "Londoner's Walk to the Land's End," has followed me, and rivalled +me, on my own ground. Mr. Murray has published "The Handbook to Cornwall +and Devon"—and detached essays on Cornish subjects, too numerous to +reckon up, have appeared in various periodical forms. Under this change +of circumstances, it is not the least of the debts which I owe to the +encouraging kindness of my readers, that they have not forgotten +"Rambles Beyond Railways," and that the continued demand for the book is +such as to justify the appearance of the present edition. I have, as I +believe, to thank the unambitious <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>purpose with which I originally +wrote, for thus keeping me in remembrance. All that my book attempts is +frankly to record a series of personal impressions; and, as a necessary +consequence—though my title is obsolete, and my pedestrian adventures +are old-fashioned—I have a character of my own still left, which +readers can recognise; and the homely travelling narrative which I +brought from Cornwall, eleven years since, is not laid on the shelf yet.</p> + +<p>I have spared no pains to make these pages worthy of the approval of new +readers. The book has been carefully revised throughout; and certain +hastily-written passages, which my better experience condemns as +unsuited to the main design, have been removed altogether. Two of the +lithographic illustrations, (now no longer in existence) with which my +friend and fellow-traveller, Mr. Brandling, adorned the previous +editions, have been copied on wood, as accurately as circumstances would +permit; and a "Postscript" has been added, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span>which now appears in +connexion with the original narrative, for the first time.</p> + +<p>The little supplementary sketch thus presented, describes a cruise to +the Scilly Islands, (taken five years after the period of my visit to +Cornwall), and completes the round of my travelling experiences in the +far West of England. These newly-added pages are written, I am afraid, +in a tone of somewhat boisterous gaiety—which I have not, however, had +the heart to subdue, because it is after all the genuine offspring of +the "harum-scarum" high spirits of the time. The "Cruise of the Tomtit" +was, from first to last, a practical burlesque; and the good-natured +reader will, I hope, not think the worse of me, if I beg him to stand on +no ceremony and to laugh his way through it as heartily as he can.</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Harley Street, London,</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>March, 1861</i>.</span><br /> +</p> +<br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> + +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp" width="10%"> </td> + <td class="tdl" width="78%"> </td> + <td class="tdr" width="12%"><span style="font-size: 80%;">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">I.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Letter of Introduction</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#I">1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">II.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Cornish Fishing Town</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#II">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">III.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Holy Wells and Druid Relics</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#III">23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">IV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cornish People</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#IV">55</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">V.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Loo-pool</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#V">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">VI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Lizard</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#VI">97</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">VII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Pilchard Fishery</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#VII">120</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Land's End</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#VIII">139</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">IX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Botallack Mine</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#IX">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">X.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Modern Drama in Cornwall</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#X">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">XI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Ancient Drama in Cornwall</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#XI">197</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">XII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Nuns of Mawgan</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#XII">216</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrp">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Legends of the Northern Coast</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#XIII">231</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="3">POSTSCRIPT.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Cruise of the Tomtit to the Scilly Islands</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> +<br /> + + + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS.</h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="I" id="I"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /> +<br /> +<h2>I.</h2> + +<h2>A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Reader,</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>When any friend of yours or mine, in whose fortunes we take an interest, +is about to start on his travels, we smooth his way for him as well as +we can, by giving him a letter of introduction to such connexions of +ours as he may find on his line of route. We bespeak their favourable +consideration for him by setting forth his good qualities in the best +light possible; and then leave him to make his own way by his own +merit—satisfied that we have done enough in procuring him a welcome +under our friend's roof, and giving him at the outset a claim to our +friend's estimation.</p> + +<p>Will you allow me, reader (if our previous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>acquaintance authorizes me +to take such a liberty), to follow the custom to which I have just +adverted; and to introduce to your notice this Book, as a friend of mine +setting forth on his travels, in whose well-being I feel a very lively +interest. He is neither so bulky nor so distinguished a person as some +of the predecessors of his race, who may have sought your attention in +years gone by, under the name of "Quarto," and in magnificent clothing +of Morocco and Gold. All that I can say for his outside is, that I have +made it as neat as I can—having had him properly thumped into wearing +his present coat of decent cloth, by the most competent book-tailor I +could find. As for his intrinsic claims to your kindness, he has only +two that I shall venture to advocate. In the first place he is able to +tell you something about a part of your own country which is still too +rarely visited and too little known. He will speak to you of one of the +remotest and most interesting corners of our old English soil. He will +tell you of the grand and varied scenery; the mighty Druid relics; the +quaint legends; the deep, dark mines; the venerable remains of early +Christianity; and the pleasant primitive population of the county of +<span class="smcap">Cornwall</span>. You will inquire, can we believe <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>him in all that he +says? This brings me at once to his second qualification—he invariably +speaks the truth. If he describes scenery to you, it is scenery that he +saw and noted on the spot; and if he adds some little sketches of +character, I answer for him, on my own responsibility, that they are +sketches drawn from the life.</p> + +<p>Have I said enough about my friend to interest you in his fortunes, when +you meet him wandering hither and thither over the great domain of the +Republic of Letters—or, must I plead more warmly in his behalf? I can +only urge on you that he does not present himself as fit for the top +seats at the library table,—as aspiring to the company of those above +him,—of classical, statistical, political, philosophical, historical, +or antiquarian high dignitaries of his class, of whom he is at best but +the poor relation. Treat him not, as you treat such illustrious guests +as these! Toss him about anywhere, from hand to hand, as good-naturedly +as you can; stuff him into your pocket when you get into the railway; +take him to bed with you, and poke him under the pillow; present him to +the rising generation, to try if he can amuse <i>them</i>; give him to the +young ladies, who are always predisposed to the kind side, and may <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>make +something of him; introduce him to "my young masters" when they are +idling away a dull morning over their cigars. Nay, advance him if you +will, to the notice of the elders themselves; but take care to ascertain +first that they are people who only travel to gratify a hearty +admiration of the wonderful works of Nature, and to learn to love their +neighbour better by seeking him at his own home—regarding it, at the +same time, as a peculiar privilege, to derive their satisfaction and +gain their improvement from experiences on English ground. Take care of +this; and who knows into what high society you may not be able to +introduce the bearer of the present letter! In spite of his habit of +rambling from subject to subject in his talk, much as he rambled from +place to place in his travels, he may actually find himself, one day, +basking on Folio Classics beneath the genial approval of a Doctor of +Divinity, or trembling among Statutes and Reports under the learned +scrutiny of a Sergeant at Law!</p> + +<p class="right">W. C.<br /> +</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Harley Street, London,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>March, 1861.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="II" id="II"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>II.</h2> + +<h2>A CORNISH FISHING TOWN.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The time is ten o'clock at night—the scene, a bank by the roadside, +crested with young fir-trees, and affording a temporary place of repose +to two travellers, who are enjoying the cool night air, picturesquely +extended flat on their backs—or rather, on their knapsacks, which now +form part and parcel of their backs. These two travellers are, the +writer of this book, and an artist friend who is the companion of his +rambles. They have long desired to explore Cornwall together, on foot; +and the object of their aspirations has been at last accomplished, in +the summer-time of the year eighteen hundred and fifty.</p> + +<p>In their present position, the travellers are (to speak geographically) +bounded towards the east by a long road winding down the side of a rocky +hill; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>towards the west, by the broad half-dry channel of a tidal river; +towards the north, by trees, hills, and upland valleys; and towards the +south, by an old bridge and some houses near it, with lights in their +windows faintly reflected in shallow water. In plainer words, the +southern boundary of the prospect around them represents a place called +Looe—a fishing-town on the south coast of Cornwall, which is their +destination for the night.</p> + +<p>They had, by this time, accomplished their initiation into the process +of walking under a knapsack, with the most complete and encouraging +success. You, who in these days of vehement bustle, business, and +competition, can still find time to travel for pleasure alone—you, who +have yet to become emancipated from the thraldom of railways, carriages, +and saddle-horses—patronize, I exhort you, that first and +oldest-established of all conveyances, your own legs! Think on your +tender partings nipped in the bud by the railway bell; think of crabbed +cross-roads, and broken carriage-springs; think of luggage confided to +extortionate porters, of horses casting shoes and catching colds, of +cramped legs and numbed feet, of vain longings to get down for a moment +here, and to delay for a pleasant half hour there—think of all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>these +manifold hardships of riding at your ease; and the next time you leave +home, strap your luggage on your shoulders, take your stick in your +hand, set forth delivered from a perfect paraphernalia of incumbrances, +to go where you will, how you will—the free citizen of the whole +travelling world! Thus independent, what may you not accomplish?—what +pleasure is there that you cannot enjoy? Are you an artist?—you can +stop to sketch every point of view that strikes your eye. Are you a +philanthropist?—you can go into every cottage and talk to every human +being you pass. Are you a botanist, or geologist?—you may pick up +leaves and chip rocks wherever you please, the live-long day. Are you a +valetudinarian?—you may physic yourself by Nature's own simple +prescription, walking in fresh air. Are you dilatory and +irresolute?—you may dawdle to your heart's content; you may change all +your plans a dozen times in a dozen hours; you may tell "Boots" at the +inn to call you at six o'clock, may fall asleep again (ecstatic +sensation!) five minutes after he has knocked at the door, and may get +up two hours later, to pursue your journey, with perfect impunity and +satisfaction. For, to you, what is a time-table but waste-paper?—and a +"booked place" <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>but a relic of the dark ages? You dread, perhaps, +blisters on your feet—sponge your feet with cold vinegar and water, +change your socks every ten miles, and show me blisters after that, if +you can! You strap on your knapsack for the first time, and five minutes +afterwards feel an aching pain in the muscles at the back of your +neck—walk <i>on</i>, and the aching will walk <i>off</i>! How do we overcome our +first painful cuticular reminiscences of first getting on horseback?—by +riding again. Apply the same rule to carrying the knapsack, and be +assured of the same successful result. Again I say it, therefore—walk, +and be merry; walk, and be healthy; walk, and be your own master!—walk, +to enjoy, to observe, to improve, as no riders can!—walk, and you are +the best peripatetic impersonation of holiday enjoyment that is to be +met with on the surface of this work-a-day world!</p> + +<p>How much more could I not say in praise of travelling on our own +neglected legs? But it is getting late; dark night-clouds are marching +slowly over the sky, to the whistling music of the wind; we must leave +our bank by the roadside, pass one end of the old bridge, walk along a +narrow winding street, and enter our hospitable little inn, where we are +welcomed by the kindest of landladies, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>waited on by the fairest of +chambermaids. If Looe prove not to be a little sea-shore paradise +to-morrow, then is there no virtue in the good omens of to-night.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The first point for which we made in the morning, was the old bridge; +and a most picturesque and singular structure we found it to be. Its +construction dates back as far as the beginning of the fifteenth +century. It is three hundred and eighty-four feet long, and has fourteen +arches, no two of which are on the same scale. The stout buttresses +built between each arch, are hollowed at the top into curious triangular +places of refuge for pedestrians, the roughly paved roadway being just +wide enough to allow the passage of one cart at a time. On some of these +buttresses, towards the middle, once stood an oratory, or chapel, +dedicated to St. Anne; but no vestiges of it now remain. The old bridge +however, still rises sturdily enough on its ancient foundations; and, +whatever the point from which its silver-grey stones and quaint arches +of all shapes and sizes may be beheld, forms no mean adjunct to the +charming landscape around it.</p> + +<p>Looe is known to have existed as a town in the reign of Edward I.; and +it remains to this day one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>of the prettiest and most primitive places +in England. The river divides it into East and West Looe; and the view +from the bridge, looking towards the two little colonies of houses thus +separated, is in some respects almost unique.</p> + +<p>At each side of you rise high ranges of beautifully wooded hills; here +and there a cottage peeps out among the trees, the winding path that +leads to it being now lost to sight in the thick foliage, now visible +again as a thin serpentine line of soft grey. Midway on the slopes +appear the gardens of Looe, built up the acclivity on stone terraces one +above another; thus displaying the veritable garden architecture of the +mountains of Palestine magically transplanted to the side of an English +hill. Here, in this soft and genial atmosphere, the hydrangea is a +common flower-bed ornament, the fuchsia grows lofty and luxuriant in the +poorest cottage garden, the myrtle flourishes close to the sea-shore, +and the tender tamarisk is the wild plant of every farmer's hedge. +Looking lower down the hills yet, you see the houses of the town +straggling out towards the sea along each bank of the river, in mazes of +little narrow streets; curious old quays project over the water at +different points; coast-trade vessels are being loaded and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>unloaded, +built in one place and repaired in another, all within view; while the +prospect of hills, harbour, and houses thus quaintly combined together, +is beautifully closed by the English Channel, just visible as a small +strip of blue water, pent in between the ridges of two promontories +which stretch out on either side to the beach.</p> + +<p>Such is Looe as beheld from a distance; and it loses none of its +attractions when you look at it more closely. There is no such thing as +a straight street in the place. No martinet of an architect has been +here, to drill the old stone houses into regimental regularity. +Sometimes you go down steps into the ground floor, sometimes you mount +an outside staircase to get to the bed-rooms. Never were such places +devised for hide and seek since that exciting nursery pastime was first +invented. No house has fewer than two doors leading into two different +lanes; some have three, opening at once into a court, a street, and a +wharf, all situated at different points of the compass. The shops, too, +have their diverting irregularities, as well as the town. Here you might +call a man a Jack of all trades, as the best and truest compliment you +could pay him—for here one shop combines in itself a drug-mongering, +cheese-mongering, stationery, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>grocery, and oil and Italian line of +business; to say nothing of such cosmopolitan miscellanies as wrinkled +apples, dusty nuts, cracked slate pencils and fly-blown mock jewellery. +The moral good which you derive, in the first pane of a window, from the +contemplation of memoirs of murdered missionaries and serious tracts +against intemperance and tight-lacing, you lose in the second, before +such worldly temptations as gingerbread, shirt-studs, and fascinating +white hats for Sunday wear, at two and ninepence apiece. Let no man +rashly say he has seen all that British enterprise can do for the +extension of British commerce, until he has carefully studied the +shop-fronts of the tradesmen of Looe.</p> + +<p>Then, when you have at last threaded your way successfully through the +streets, and have got out on the beach, you see a pretty miniature bay, +formed by the extremity of a green hill on the right, and by fine jagged +slate-rocks on the left. Before this seaward quarter of the town is +erected a strong bulwark of rough stones, to resist the incursion of +high tides. Here, the idlers of the place assemble to lounge and gossip, +to look out for any outward-bound ships that are to be seen in the +Channel, and to criticise the appearance and glorify the capabilities of +the little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>fleet of Looe fishing-boats, riding snugly at anchor before +them at the entrance of the bay.</p> + +<p>The inhabitants number some fourteen hundred; and are as good-humoured +and unsophisticated a set of people as you will meet with anywhere. The +Fisheries and the Coast Trade form their principal means of subsistence. +The women take a very fair share of the hard work out of the men's +hands. You constantly see them carrying coals from the vessels to the +quay in curious hand-barrows: they laugh, scream, and run in each +other's way incessantly: but these little irregularities seem to assist, +rather than impede them, in the prosecution of their tasks. As to the +men, one absorbing interest appears to govern them all. The whole day +long they are mending boats, painting boats, cleaning boats, rowing +boats, or, standing with their hands in their pockets, looking at boats. +The children seem to be children in size, and children in nothing else. +They congregate together in sober little groups, and hold mysterious +conversations, in a dialect which we cannot understand. If they ever do +tumble down, soil their pinafores, throw stones, or make mud pies, they +practise these juvenile vices in a midnight secrecy which no stranger's +eye can penetrate.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>In that second period of the dark ages, when there were High Tories and +rotten boroughs in the land, Looe (containing at that time nothing like +the number of inhabitants which it now possesses) sent Four Members to +Parliament! The ceremony by which two of these members were elected, as +it was described to me by a man who remembered witnessing it, must have +been an impressive sight indeed to any foreigner interested in studying +the representative system of this country. On the morning of the "Poll," +one division of the borough sent <i>six</i> electors, and another <i>four</i>, to +record their imposing aggregate of votes in favour of any two smiling +civil gentlemen, who came, properly recommended, to ask for them. This +done, the ten electors walked quietly home in one direction, and the two +members walked quietly off in another, to perform the fatiguing duty of +representing their constituents' interests in Imperial Parliament. The +election was quite a snug little family affair, in these "good old +times." The ten gentlemen who voted, and the other two gentlemen who +took their votes, just made up a comfortable compact dozen, all +together!</p> + +<p>But this state of things was too harmonious to last in such a world of +discord as ours. The day of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>innovation came: turbulent Whigs and +Radicals laid uncivil hands on the Looe polling-booth, and politically +annihilated the pleasant party of twelve. Since that disastrous period +the town has sent no members to Parliament at all; and very little, +indeed, do the townspeople appear to care about so serious a +deprivation. In case the reader should be disposed to attribute this +indifference to municipal privileges to the supineness rather than the +philosophy of the inhabitants, I think it necessary to establish their +just claims to be considered as possessing public spirit, prompt +decision, and wise fertility of resource in cases of emergency, by +relating in this place the true story of how the people of Looe got rid +of the rats.</p> + +<p>About a mile out at sea, to the southward of the town, rises a green +triangular shaped eminence, called Looe Island. Here, many years ago, a +ship was wrecked. Not only were the sailors saved, but several free +passengers of the rat species, who had got on board, nobody knew how, +where, or when, were also preserved by their own strenuous exertions, +and wisely took up permanent quarters for the future on the terra firma +of Looe Island. In process of time, and in obedience to the laws of +nature, these rats increased and multiplied exceedingly; and, being +confined all round <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>within certain limits by the sea, soon became a +palpable and dangerous nuisance. Destruction was threatened to the +agricultural produce of all the small patches of cultivated land on the +island—it seemed doubtful whether any man who ventured there by +himself, might not share the fate of Bishop Hatto, and be devoured by +rats. Under these pressing circumstances, the people of Looe determined +to make one united and vehement effort to extirpate the whole colony of +invaders. Ordinary means of destruction had been tried already, and +without effect. It was said that rats left for dead on the ground had +mysteriously revived faster than they could be picked up and skinned, or +flung into the sea. Rats desperately wounded had got away into their +holes, and become convalescent, and increased and multiplied again more +productively than ever. The great problem was, not how to kill the rats, +but how to annihilate them so effectually as to place the re-appearance +even of one of them altogether out of the question. This was the +problem, and it was solved in the following manner:—</p> + +<p>All the available inhabitants of the town were called to join in a great +hunt. The rats were caught by every conceivable artifice; and, once +taken, were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>instantly and ferociously <i>smothered in onions</i>; the +corpses were then decently laid out on clean china dishes, and +straightway eaten with vindictive relish by the people of Looe. Never +was any invention for destroying rats so complete and so successful as +this! Every man, woman, and child, who could eat, could swear to the +extirpation of all the rats they had eaten. The local returns of dead +rats were not made by the bills of mortality, but by the bills of fare: +it was getting rid of a nuisance by the unheard-of process of stomaching +a nuisance! Day after day passed on, and rats disappeared by hundreds, +never to return. What could all their cunning and resolution avail them +now? They had resisted before, and could have resisted still, the +ordinary force of dogs, ferrets, traps, sticks, stones, and guns, +arrayed against them; but when to these engines of assault were added, +as auxiliaries, smothering onions, scalding stew-pans, hungry mouths, +sharp teeth, good digestions, and the gastric juice, what could they do +but give in? Swift and sure was the destruction that now overwhelmed +them—everybody who wanted a dinner had a strong personal interest in +hunting them down to the very last. In a short space of time the island +was cleared of the usurpers. Cheeses remained entire: ricks rose +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>uninjured. And this is the true story of how the people of Looe got rid +of the rats!</p> + +<p>It will not much surprise any reader who has been good-natured enough to +peruse the preceding pages with some attention, to hear that we idly +delayed the day of departure from the pleasant fishing-town on the south +coast, which was now the place of our sojourn. The smiles of our fair +chambermaid and the cookery of our excellent hostess, addressed us in +Siren tones of allurement which we had not the virtue to resist. Then, +it was difficult to leave unexplored any of the numerous walks in the +neighbourhood—all delightfully varied in character, and each possessing +its own attractive point of view. Even when we had made our +determination and fixed our farewell day, a great boat-race and a great +tea-drinking, which everybody declared was something that everybody else +ought to see, interfered to detain us. We delayed yet once more, to +partake in the festivities, and found that they supplied us with all the +necessary resolution to quit Looe which we had hitherto wanted. We had +remained to take part in a social failure on a very large scale.</p> + +<p>As, in addition to the boat-race, there was to be a bazaar on the beach; +and as fine weather was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>therefore an essential requisite on the +occasion, it is scarcely necessary to premise that we had an unusually +large quantity of rain. In the forenoon, however, the sun shone with +treacherous brilliancy; and all the women in the neighbourhood fluttered +out in his beams, gay as butterflies. What dazzling gowns, what flaring +parasols, what joyous cavalcades on cart-horses, did we see on the road +that led to the town! What a mixture of excitement, confusion, anxiety, +and importance, possessed everybody! What frolic and felicity attended +the popular gatherings on the beach, until the fatal moment when the gun +fired for the first race! Then, as if at that signal, the clouds began +to muster in ominous blackness; the deceitful sunlight disappeared; the +rain came down for the day—a steady, noiseless, malicious rain, that at +once forbade all hope of clear weather. Dire was the discomfiture of the +poor ladies of Looe. They ran hither and thither for shelter, in lank +wet muslin and under dripping parasols, displaying, in the lamentable +emergency of the moment, all sorts of interior contrivances for +expanding around them the exterior magnificence of their gowns, which we +never ought to have seen. Deserted were the stalls of the bazaar for the +parlours of the alehouses; unapplauded and unobserved, strained at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>the +oar the stout rowers in the boat-race. Everybody ran to cover, except +some seafaring men who cared nothing for weather, some inveterate +loungers who would wander up and down in spite of the rain, and three +unhappy German musicians, who had been caught on their travels, and +pinned up tight against the outer wall of a house, in a sort of cage of +canvas, boards, and evergreens, which hid every part of them but their +heads and shoulders. Nobody interfered to release these unfortunates. +There they sat, hemmed in all round by dripping leaves, blowing grimly +and incessantly through instruments of brass. If the reader can imagine +the effect of three phlegmatic men with long bottle noses, looking out +of a circle of green bushes, and playing waltzes unintermittingly on +long horns, in a heavy shower—he will be able to form a tolerably +correct estimate of the large extra proportion of gloom which the German +musicians succeeded in infusing into the disastrous proceedings of the +day.</p> + +<p>The tea-drinking was rather more successful. The room in which it was +held was filled to the corners, and exhaled such an odour of wet +garments and bread and butter (to say nothing of an incessant clatter of +china and bawling of voices) that we found ourselves, as uninitiated +strangers, unequal to the task of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>remaining in it to witness the +proceedings. Descending the steps which led into the street from the +door—to the great confusion of a string of smartly dressed ladies who +encountered us, rushing up with steaming teakettles and craggy lumps of +plumcake—we left the inhabitants to conclude their festivities by +themselves, and went out to take a farewell walk on the cliffs of Looe.</p> + +<p>We ascended the heights to the westward, losing sight of the town among +the trees as we went; and then, walking in a southerly direction through +some cornfields, approached within a few hundred yards of the edge of +the cliffs, and looked out on the sea. The sky had partially cleared, +and the rain had ceased; but huge fantastic masses of cloud, tinged with +lurid copper-colour by the setting sun, still towered afar off over the +horizon, and were reflected in a deeper hue on the calm surface of the +sea, with a perfectness and grandeur that I never remember to have +witnessed before. Not a ship was in sight; but out on the extreme line +of the wilderness of grey waters there shone one red, fiery spark—the +beacon of the Eddystone Lighthouse. Before us, the green fields of Looe +Island rose high out of the ocean—here, partaking the red light on the +clouds; there, half lost in cold shadow. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>Closer yet, on the mainland, a +few cattle were feeding quietly on a long strip of meadow bordering the +edge of the cliff; and, now and then, a gull soared up from the sea, and +wheeled screaming over our heads. The faint sound of the small +shore-waves (invisible to us in the position we occupied) beating dull +and at long intervals on the beach, augmented the dreary solemnity of +the evening prospect. Light, shade, and colour, were all before us, +arranged in the grandest combinations, and expressed by the simplest +forms. If Michael Angelo had painted landscape, he might have +represented such a scene as we now beheld.</p> + +<p>This was our last excursion at Looe. The next morning we were again on +the road, walking inland on our way to the town of Liskeard.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="III" id="III"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>III.</h2> + +<h2>HOLY WELLS AND DRUID RELICS.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Fresh from the quaint old houses, the delightfully irregular streets, +and the fragrant terrace-gardens of Looe, we found ourselves, on +entering Liskeard, suddenly introduced to that "abomination of +desolation," a large agricultural country town. Modern square houses, +barren of all outer ornament; wide, dusty, deserted streets; +misanthropical-looking shopkeepers, clad in rusty black, standing at +their doors to gaze on the solitude around them—greeted our eyes on all +sides. Such samples of the population as we accidentally encountered +were not promising. We were unlucky enough to remark, in the course of +two streets, a nonagenarian old woman with a false nose, and an idiot +shaking with the palsy.</p> + +<p>But harder trials were in reserve for us. We missed the best of the many +inns at Liskeard, and went to the very worst. What a place was our house +of public <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>entertainment for a great sinner to repent in, or for a +melancholy recluse to retreat to! Not a human being appeared in the +street where this tavern of despair frowned amid congenial desolation. +Nobody welcomed us at the door—the sign creaked dolefully, as the wind +swung it on its rusty hinges. We walked in, and discovered a +low-spirited little man sitting at an empty "bar," and hiding himself, +as it were, from all mortal inspection behind the full sheet of a dirty +provincial newspaper. Doleful was our petition to this secluded publican +for shelter and food; and doubly doleful was his answer to our appeal. +Beds he believed he had—food there was none in the house, saving a +piece of <i>corned beef</i>, which the family had dined on, and which he +proposed that we should partake of before it got quite cold. Having said +thus much, he suddenly retired behind his newspaper, and spoke no word +more.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the landlady appeared, looking very thin and care-worn, +and clad in mourning weeds. She smiled sadly upon us; and desired to +know how we liked corned beef? We acknowledged a preference for fresh +meat, especially in large market towns like Liskeard, where butchers' +shops abounded. The landlady was willing to see what she could get; and +in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>the meantime, begged to be allowed to show us into a private room. +She succeeded in incarcerating us in the most thoroughly private room +that could be found out of a model prison. It was situated far away at +the back of the house, and looked out upon a very small yard entirely +circumscribed by empty stables. The one little window was shut down +tight, and we were desired not to open it, for fear of a smell from +these stables. The ornaments of the place consisted of hymn-books, +spelling-books, and a china statue of Napoleon in a light green +waistcoat and a sky-blue coat. There was not even a fly in the room to +intrude on us in our privacy; there were no cocks and hens in the yard +to cackle on us in our privacy; nobody walked past the outer passage, or +made any noise in any part of the house, to startle us in our privacy; +and a steady rain was falling propitiously to keep us in our privacy. We +dined in our retired situation on some rugged lumps of broiled flesh, +which the landlady called chops, and the servant steaks. We broke out of +prison after dinner, and roamed the streets. We returned to solitary +confinement in the evening, and were instantly conducted to another +cell.</p> + +<p>This second private apartment appeared to be about forty feet long; six +immense wooden tables, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>painted of a ghastly yellow colour, were ranged +down it side by side. Nothing was placed on any of them—they looked +like dissecting-tables waiting for "subjects." There was yet another and +a seventh table—a round one, half lost in a corner, to which we +retreated for refuge—it was covered with crape and bombazine, half made +up into mourning garments proper to the first and intensest stage of +grief. The servant brought us one small candle to cheer the scene; and +desired to be informed whether we wanted <i>two</i> sheets apiece to our +beds, or whether we could do with a sheet at top and a blanket at +bottom, as other people did? This question cowed us at once into gloomy +submission to our fate. We just hinted that we had contracted bad habits +of sleeping between two sheets, and left the rest to chance; reckless +how we slept, or where we slept, whether we passed the night on the top +of one of the six dissecting-tables, or with a blanket at bottom, as +other people passed it. Soon the servant returned to tell us that we had +got our two sheets each, and to send us to bed—snatching up the +landlady's mourning garments, while she spoke, with a scared, suspicious +look, as if she thought that the next outrageous luxury we should +require would be a nightgown apiece of crape and bombazine.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>Reflecting on our lamentable situation the last thing at night, we +derived some consolation from remembering that we should leave our +quarters early the next morning. It was not Liskeard that we had come to +see, but the country around Liskeard—the famous curiosities of Nature +and Art that are to be found some six or eight miles away from the town. +Accordingly, we were astir betimes on the morrow. The sky was fair; the +breeze was exhilarating. Once past the doleful doorway of the inn, we +found ourselves departing under the fairest auspices for a pilgrimage to +the ruins of St. Cleer's Well, and to the granite piles and Druid +remains, now entitled the "Cheese-Wring" and "Hurler" rocks.</p> + +<p>On leaving the town, our way lay to the northward, up rising ground. For +the first two miles, the scenery differed little from what we had +already beheld in Cornwall. The lanes were still sunk down between high +banks, like dry ditches; all varieties of ferns grew in exquisite beauty +and luxuriance on either side of us; the trees were small in size, and +thickly clothed with leaves; and the views were generally narrowed to a +few well-cultivated fields, with sturdy little granite-built cottages +now and then rising beyond. It was only when we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>had reached what must +have been a considerable elevation, that any change appeared in the face +of the country. Five minutes more of walking, and a single turn in the +road, brought us suddenly to the limits of trees, meadows, and cottages; +and displayed before us, with almost startling abruptness, the +magnificent prospect of a Cornish Moor.</p> + +<p>The expanse of open plain that we now beheld stretched away +uninterruptedly on the right hand, as far as the distant hills. Towards +the left, the view was broken and varied by some rough stone walls, a +narrow road, and a dip in the earth beyond. Wherever we looked, far or +near, we saw masses of granite of all shapes and sizes, heaped +irregularly on the ground among dark clusters of heath. An old +furze-cutter was the only human figure that appeared on the desolate +scene. Approaching him to ask our way to St. Cleer's Well—no signs of +which could be discerned on the wilderness before us—we found the old +fellow, though he was eighty years of age, working away with all the +vigour of youth. On this wild moor he had lived and laboured from +childhood; and he began to talk proudly of its great length and breadth, +and of the wonderful sights that were to be seen on different parts of +it, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>the moment we addressed him. He described to us, in his own homely +forcible way, the awful storms that he had beheld, the fearful rattling +and roaring of thunder over the great unsheltered plain before us—the +hail and sleet driven so fiercely before the hurricane, that a man was +half-blinded if he turned his face towards it for a moment—the forked +lightning shooting from pitch-dark clouds, leaping and running fearfully +over the level ground, blackening, splitting, tearing from their places +the stoutest rocks on the moor. Three masses of granite lay heaped +together near the spot where we had halted—the furze-cutter pointed to +them with his bill-hook, and told us that what we now looked on was once +one great rock, which he had seen riven in an instant by the lightning +into the fragmentary form that it now presented. If we mounted the +highest of these three masses, he declared that we might find out our +own way to St. Cleer's Well by merely looking around us. We followed his +directions. Towards the east, far away over the magnificent sweep of +moorland, and on the slope of the hill that bounded it, appeared the +tall chimneys and engine-houses of the Great Caraton Copper Mine—the +only objects raised by the hand of man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>that were to be seen on this +part of the view. Towards the west, much nearer at hand, four grey +turrets were just visible beyond some rising ground. These turrets +belonged to the tower of St. Cleer's Church, and the Well was close by +it.</p> + +<p>Taking leave of the furze-cutter, we followed the path at once that led +to St. Cleer's. Half an hour's walking brought us to the village, a +straggling, picturesque place, hidden in so deep a hollow as to be quite +invisible from any distance. All the little cottage-girls whom we met, +carrying their jugs and pitchers of water, curtseyed and wished us good +morning with the prettiest air of bashfulness and good humour +imaginable. One of them, a rosy, beautiful child, who proudly informed +us that she was six years old, put down her jug at a cottage-gate and +ran on before to show us the way, delighted to be singled out from her +companions for so important an office. We passed the grey walls of the +old church, walked down a lane, and soon came in sight of the Well, the +position of which was marked by a ruined Oratory, situated on some open +ground close at the side of the public pathway.</p> + +<p>St. Cleer, or—as the name is generally spelt out of Cornwall—St. +Clare, the patron saint of the Well, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>was born in Italy, in the twelfth +century—and born to a fair heritage of this world's honours and this +world's possessions. But she voluntarily abandoned, at an early age, all +that was alluring in the earthly career awaiting her, to devote herself +entirely to the interests of her religion and the service of Heaven. She +was the first woman who sat at the feet of St. Francis as his disciple, +who humbly practised the self-mortification, and resolutely performed +the vow of perpetual poverty, which her preceptor's harshest doctrines +imposed on his followers. She soon became Abbess of the Benedictine Nuns +with whom she was associated by the saint; and afterwards founded an +order of her own—the order of "Poor Clares." The fame of her piety and +humility, of her devotion to the cause of the sick, the afflicted, and +the poor, spread far and wide. The most illustrious of the ecclesiastics +of her time attended at her convent as at a holy shrine. Pope Innocent +the Fourth visited her, as a testimony of his respect for her virtues; +and paid homage to her memory when her blameless existence had closed, +by making one among the mourners who followed her to the grave. Her name +had been derived from the Latin word that signifies <i>purity</i>; and from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>first to last, her life had kept the promise of her name.</p> + +<p>Poor St. Clare! If she could look back, with the thoughts and interests +of the days of her mortality, to the world that she has quitted for +ever, how sadly would she now contemplate the Holy Well which was once +hallowed in her name and for her sake! But one arched wall, thickly +overgrown with ivy, still remains erect in the place that the old +Oratory occupied. Fragments of its roof, its cornices, and the mouldings +of its windows lie scattered on the ground, half hidden by the grasses +and ferns twining prettily around them. A double cross of stone stands, +sloping towards the earth, at a little distance off—soon perhaps to +share the fate of the prostrate ruins about it. How changed the scene +here, since the time when the rural christening procession left the +church, to proceed down the quiet pathway to the Holy Well—when +children were baptized in the pure spring; and vows were offered up +under the roof of the Oratory, and prayers were repeated before the +sacred cross! These were the pious usages of a past age; these were the +ceremonies of an ancient church, whose innocent and reverent custom it +was to connect <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>closer together the beauty of Nature and the beauty of +Religion, by such means as the consecration of a spring, or the erection +of a roadside cross. There has been something of sacrifice as well as of +glory, in the effort by which we, in our time, have freed ourselves from +what was superstitious and tyrannical in the faith of the times of +old—it has cost us the loss of much of the better part of that faith +which was not superstition, and of more which was not tyranny. The +spring of St. Clare is nothing to the cottager of our day but a place to +draw water from; the village lads now lounge whistling on the fallen +stones, once the consecrated arches under which their humble ancestors +paused on the pilgrimage, or knelt in prayer. Wherever the eye turns, +all around it speaks the melancholy language of desolation and +decay—all but the water of the Holy Well. Still the little pool remains +the fitting type of its patron saint—pure and tranquil as in the bygone +days, when the name of St. Clare was something more than the title to a +village legend, and the spring of St. Clare something better than a +sight for the passing tourist among the Cornish moors.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>We happened to arrive at the well at the period when the villagers were +going home to dinner. After the first quarter of an hour, we were left +almost alone among the ruins. The only person who approached to speak to +us was a poor old woman, bent and tottering with age, who lived in a +little cottage hard by. She brought us a glass, thinking we might wish +to taste the water of the spring; and presented me with a rose out of +her garden. Such small scraps of information as she had gathered +together about the well, she repeated to us in low, reverential tones, +as if its former religious uses still made it an object of veneration in +her eyes. After a time, she too quitted us; and we were then left quite +alone by the side of the spring.</p> + +<p>It was a bright, sunshiny day; a pure air was abroad; nothing sounded +audibly but the singing of birds at some distance, and the rustling of +the few leaves that clothed one or two young trees in a neighbouring +garden. Unoccupied though <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>I was, the minutes passed away as quickly and +as unheeded with me, as with my companion who was busily engaged in +sketching. The ruins of the ancient Oratory, viewed amid the pastoral +repose of all things around them, began imperceptibly to exert over me +that mysterious power of mingling the impressions of the present with +the memories of the past, which all ruins possess. While I sat looking +idly into the water of the well, and thinking of the groups that had +gathered round it in years long gone by, recollections began to rise +vividly on my mind of other ruins that I had seen in other countries, +with friends, some scattered, some gone now—of pleasant pilgrimages, in +boyish days, along the storied shores of Baiæ, or through the desolate +streets of the Dead City under Vesuvius—of happy sketching excursions +to the aqueducts on the plains of Rome, or to the temples and villas of +Tivoli; during which, I had first learned to appreciate the beauties of +Nature under guidance which, in this world, I can never resume; and had +seen the lovely prospects of Italian landscape pictured by a hand now +powerless in death. Remembrances such as these, of pleasures which +remembrance only can recall as they were, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>made time fly fast for me by +the brink of the holy well. I could have sat there all day, and should +not have felt, at night, that the day had been ill spent.</p> + +<p>But the sunlight began to warn us that noon was long past. We had some +distance yet to walk, and many things more to see. Shortly after my +friend had completed his sketch, therefore, we reluctantly left St. +Clare's Well, and went on our way briskly, up the little valley, and out +again on the wide surface of the moor.</p> + +<p>It was now our object to steer a course over the wide plain around us, +leading directly to the "Cheese-Wring" rocks (so called from their +supposed resemblance to a Cornish cheese-press or "<i>wring</i>"). On our +road to this curiosity, about a mile and a half from St. Clare's Well, +we stopped to look at one of the most perfect and remarkable of the +ancient British monuments in Cornwall. It is called Trevethey Stone, and +consists of six large upright slabs of granite, overlaid by a seventh, +which covers them in the form of a rude, slanting roof. These slabs are +so irregular in form as to look quite unhewn. They all vary in size and +thickness. The whole structure rises to a height, probably, of fourteen +feet; and, standing as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>it does on elevated ground, in a barren country, +with no stones of a similar kind erected near it, presents an appearance +of rugged grandeur and aboriginal simplicity, which renders it an +impressive, almost a startling object to look on. Antiquaries have +discovered that its name signifies The Place of Graves; and have +discovered no more. No inscription appears on it; the date of its +erection is lost in the darkest of the dark periods of English history.</p> + +<p>Our path had been gradually rising all the way from St. Clare's Well; +and, when we left Trevethey Stone, we still continued to ascend, +proceeding along the tram-way leading to the Caraton Mine. Soon the +scene presented another abrupt and extraordinary change. We had been +walking hitherto amid almost invariable silence and solitude; but now, +with each succeeding minute, strange, mingled, unintermitting noises +began to grow louder and louder around us. We followed a sharp curve in +the tram-way, and immediately found ourselves saluted by an entirely new +prospect, and surrounded by an utterly bewildering noise. All about us +monstrous wheels were turning slowly; machinery was clanking and +groaning in the hoarsest discords; invisible waters were pouring onward +with a rushing sound; high above our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>heads, on skeleton platforms, iron +chains clattered fast and fiercely over iron pulleys, and huge steam +pumps puffed and gasped, and slowly raised and depressed their heavy +black beams of wood. Far beneath the embankment on which we stood, men, +women, and children were breaking and washing ore in a perfect marsh of +copper-coloured mud and copper-coloured water. We had penetrated to the +very centre of the noise, the bustle, and the population on the surface +of a great mine.</p> + +<p>When we walked forward again, we passed through a thick plantation of +young firs; and then, the sounds behind us became slowly and solemnly +deadened the further we went on. When we had arrived at the extremity of +the line of trees, they ceased softly and suddenly. It was like a change +in a dream.</p> + +<p>We now left the tram-way, and stood again on the moor—on a wilder and +lonelier part of it than we had yet beheld. The Cheese-Wring and its +adjacent rocks were visible a mile and a half away, on the summit of a +steep hill. Wherever we looked, the horizon was bounded by the long, +dark, undulating edges of the moor. The ground rose and fell in little +hillocks and hollows, tufted with dry grass and furze, and strewn +throughout with fragments of granite. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>The whole plain appeared like the +site of an ancient city of palaces, overthrown and crumbled into atoms +by an earthquake. Here and there, some cows were feeding; and sometimes +a large crow winged his way lazily before us, lessening and lessening +slowly in the open distance, until he was lost to sight. No human beings +were discernible anywhere; the majestic loneliness and stillness of the +scene were almost oppressive both to eye and ear. Above us, immense +fleecy masses of brilliant white cloud, wind-driven from the Atlantic, +soared up grandly, higher and higher over the bright blue sky. +Everywhere, the view had an impressively stern, simple, aboriginal look. +Here were tracts of solitary country which had sturdily retained their +ancient character through centuries of revolution and change; plains +pathless and desolate even now, as when Druid processions passed over +them by night to the place of the secret sacrifice, and skin-clad +warriors of old Britain halted on them in council, or hurried across +them to the fight.</p> + +<p>On we went, up and down, in a very zig-zag course, now looking forward +towards the Cheese-Wring from the top of a rock, now losing sight of it +altogether in the depths of a hollow. By the time we had advanced about +half way over the distance it was necessary for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>us to walk, we +observed, towards the left hand, a wide circle of detached upright +rooks. These we knew, from descriptions and engravings, to be the +"Hurlers"—so we turned aside at once to look at them from a nearer +point of view.</p> + +<p>There are two very different histories of these rocks; the antiquarian +account of them is straightforward and practical enough, simply +asserting that they are the remains of a Druid temple, the whole region +about them having been one of the principal stations of the Druids in +Cornwall. The popular account of the Hurlers (from which their name is +derived) is very different. It is contended, on the part of the people, +that once upon a time (nobody knows how long ago), these rocks were +Cornish men, who profanely went out (nobody knows from what place), to +enjoy the national sport of hurling the ball on one fine "Sabbath +morning," and were suddenly turned into pillars of stone, as a judgment +on their own wickedness, and a warning to all their companions as well.</p> + +<p>Having to choose between the antiquarian hypothesis and the popular +legend on the very spot to which both referred, a common susceptibility +to the charms of romance at once determined us to pin our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>faith on the +legend. Looking at the Hurlers, therefore, in the peculiar spirit of the +story attached to them, as really and truly petrified ball-players, we +observed, with great interest, that some of them must have been a little +above, and others a little below our own height, in their lifetime; that +some must have been very corpulent, and others very thin persons; that +one of them, having a protuberance on his head remarkably like a +night-cap in stone, was possibly a sluggard as well as a +Sabbath-breaker, and might have got out of his bed just in time to +"hurl;" that another, with some faint resemblance left of a fat grinning +human face, leaned considerably out of the perpendicular, and was, in +all probability, a hurler of intemperate habits. At some distance off we +remarked a high stone standing entirely by itself, which, in the absence +of any positive information on the subject, we presumed to consider as +the petrified effigy of a tall man who ran after the ball. In the +opposite direction other stones were dotted about irregularly, which we +could only imagine to represent certain misguided wretches who had +attended as spectators of the sports, and had therefore incurred the +same penalty as the hurlers themselves. These humble results of +observations taken on the spot, may <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>possibly be useful, as tending to +offer some startling facts from ancient history to the next pious layman +in the legislature who gets up to propose the next series of Sabbath +prohibitions for the benefit of the profane laymen in the nation.</p> + +<p>Abandoning any more minute observation of the Hurlers than that already +recorded, in order to husband the little time still left to us, we soon +shaped our course again in the direction of the Cheese-Wring. We arrived +at the base of the hill on which it stands, in a short time and without +any difficulty; and beheld above us a perfect chaos of rocks piled up +the entire surface of the eminence. All the granite we had seen before +was as nothing compared with the granite we now looked on. The masses +were at one place heaped up in great irregular cairns—at another, +scattered confusedly over the ground; poured all along in close, craggy +lumps; flung about hither and thither, as if in reckless sport, by the +hands of giants. Above the whole, rose the weird fantastic form of the +Cheese-Wring, the wildest and most wondrous of all the wild and wondrous +structures in the rock architecture of the scene.</p> + +<p>If a man dreamt of a great pile of stones in a nightmare, he would dream +of such a pile as the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>Cheese-Wring. All the heaviest and largest of the +seven thick slabs of which it is composed are at the top; all the +lightest and smallest at the bottom. It rises perpendicularly to a +height of thirty-two feet, without lateral support of any kind. The +fifth and sixth rocks are of immense size and thickness, and overhang +fearfully, all round, the four lower rocks which support them. All are +perfectly irregular; the projections of one do not fit into the +interstices of another; they are heaped up loosely in their +extraordinary top-heavy form, on slanting ground half-way down a steep +hill. Look at them from whatever point you choose, there is still all +that is heaviest, largest, strongest, at the summit, and all that is +lightest, smallest, weakest, at the base. When you first see the +Cheese-Wring, you instinctively shrink from walking under it. Beholding +the tons on tons of stone balanced to a hair's breadth on the mere +fragments beneath, you think that with a pole in your hand, with one +push against the top rocks, you could hurl down the hill in an instant a +pile which has stood for centuries, unshaken by the fiercest hurricane +that ever blew, rushing from the great void of an ocean over the naked +surface of a moor.</p> + +<p>Of course, theories advanced by learned men are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>not wanting to explain +such a phenomenon as the Cheese-Wring. Certain antiquaries have +undertaken to solve this curious problem of Nature in a very off-hand +manner, by asserting that the rocks were heaped up as they now appear, +by the Druids, with the intention of astonishing their contemporaries +and all posterity by a striking exhibition of their architectural skill. +(If any of these antiquarian gentlemen be still living, I would not +recommend them to attempt a practical illustration of their theory by +building miniature Cheese-Wrings out of the contents of their +coal-scuttles!) The second explanation of the extraordinary position of +the rocks is a geological explanation, and is apparently the true one. +It is assumed on this latter hypothesis, that the Cheese-Wring, and all +the adjacent masses of stone, were once covered, or nearly covered, by +earth, and were thus supported in an upright form; that the wear and +tear of storms gradually washed away all this earth, from between the +rocks, down the hill, and then left such heaps of stones as were +accidentally complete in their balance on each other, to stand erect, +and such as were not, to fall flat on the surface of the hill in all the +various positions in which they now appear. Accepting this theory as the +right one, it still seems <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>strange that there should be only one +Cheese-Wring on the hill—but so it is. Plenty of rocks are to be seen +there piled one on another; but none of them are piled in the same +extraordinary manner as the Cheese-Wring, which stands alone in its +grandeur, a curiosity that even science may wonder at, a sight which is +worth a visit to Cornwall, if Cornwall presented nothing else to see.</p> + +<p>Besides the astonishment which the rock scenery on the hill was +calculated to excite, we found in its neighbourhood an additional cause +for surprise of a very different description. Just as we were preparing +to ascend the eminence, the silence of the great waste around us was +broken by a long and hearty cheer. The Hurlers themselves, if they had +suddenly returned to a state of flesh and blood, and resumed their +interrupted game, could hardly have made more noise, or exhibited a +greater joviality of disposition, than did some three or four tradesmen +of the town of Liskeard, who had been enjoying a pic-nic under the +Cheese-Wring, had seen us approaching over the plain, and now darted out +of their ambush to welcome us, flourishing porter-bottles in their hands +as olive branches of peace, amity, and good-will. My companion skilfully +contrived to make his escape; but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>I was stopped and surrounded in an +instant. One benevolent stranger held a glass in a very slanting +position, while a brother philanthropist violently uncorked a bottle and +directed half of its contents in a magnificent jet of light brown froth +all over everybody, before he found the way into the tumbler. It was of +no use to decline imbibing the remainder of the light brown +froth—"<i>There</i> was the Cheese-Wring (cried all the benevolent strangers +in chorus), and <i>here</i> was the porter—<i>I</i> must drink all their good +healths, and <i>they</i> would all drink mine—this was Cornish hospitality, +and Cornish hospitality was notoriously the finest thing in the world! +As for my friend there, who was drawing, they bore him no ill-will +because he wouldn't drink—they would buy his drawing, and one of the +commercial gentlemen, who was a stationer, would publish a hundred, two +hundred, five hundred, a thousand copies of it, on sheets of +letter-paper, price one penny! What had I got to say to that?—If that +wasn't hospitality, what the devil was?"</p> + +<p>All this might have been very amusing, and our new friends might have +proved excellent companions, under a different set of circumstances. +But, as things were, we neither of us felt at all sorry when their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>manners subsequently exhibited a slight change, under the influence of +further potations of porter. Soon, they began to look stolid and +suspicious—suddenly, they discovered that we were not quite such good +company as they had thought us at first—finally, they took their +departure in solemn silence, leaving us free at last to mount the hill, +and look out uninterruptedly on the glorious view from the summit, which +extended over a circumference of a hundred miles.</p> + +<p>Turning our faces towards the north-east, and standing now on the +topmost rock of one of the most elevated situations in Cornwall, we were +able to discern the sea on either side of us. Two faint lines of the +softest, haziest blue, indicated the Bristol Channel on the one hand, +and the English Channel on the other. Before us lay a wide region of +downs and fields, all mapped out in every variety of form by their +different divisions of wall and hedge-row—while, farther away yet, +darker and more indefinite, appeared the Dartmoor forest and the +Dartmoor hills. It was just that hour before the evening, at which the +atmosphere acquires a more mellow purity, a more perfect serenity and +warmth, than at earlier periods of the day. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>shadows of great clouds +lay in vast lovely shapes of purple blue over the whole visible tract of +country, contrasting in exquisite beauty with the sunny glimpses of +landscape shining between them. Beneath us, the picturesque confusion of +rocks, topped by the quaint form of the Cheese-Wring, seemed to fade +away mysteriously into the grass of the moorland; beyond which, high up +where the hills rose again, a little lake, called Dosmery Pool, shone in +the sunlight with dazzling, diamond brightness. In the opposite +direction, towards the west, the immediate prospect was formed by the +rugged granite ridges, towering one behind the other, of Sharp Torr and +Kilmarth—the long hazy outlines of the plains and hill-tops of southern +and inland Cornwall closing grandly the distant view.</p> + +<p>All that we had hitherto seen on and around the spot where we now stood, +had not yet exhausted its objects of attraction for strangers. +Descending the rocks in a new direction, after taking a last look at the +noble prospect visible from their summit, we proceeded to a particular +spot near the base of the hill, where the granite was scattered in +remarkable abundance. Our purpose here was to examine some stones which +are well known to all the quarrymen in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>the district, as associated with +an extraordinary story and an extraordinary man.</p> + +<p>During the earlier half of the last century, there lived in one of the +villages on the outskirts of the moor on which the Cheese-Wring stands, +a stonecutter named Daniel Gumb. This man was noted among his companions +for his taciturn eccentric character, and for his attachment to +mathematical studies. Such leisure time as he had at his command he +devoted to pondering over the problems of Euclid: he was always drawing +mysterious complications of angles, triangles, and parallelograms, on +pieces of slate, and on the blank leaves of such few books as he +possessed. But he made very slow progress in his studies. Poverty and +hard work increased with the increase of his family, and obliged him to +give up his mathematics altogether. He laboured early and laboured late; +he hacked and hewed at the hard material out of which he was doomed to +cut a livelihood, with unremitting diligence; but times went so ill with +him, that in despair of ever finding them better, he took a sudden +resolution of altering his manner of living, and retreating from the +difficulties that he could not overcome. He went to the hill on which +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>Cheese-Wring stands, and looked about among the rocks until he +found some that had accidentally formed themselves into a sort of rude +cavern. He widened this recess; he propped up a great wide slab, to make +its roof: he cut out in a rock that rose above this, what he called his +bed-room—a mere longitudinal slit in the stone, the length and breadth +of his body, into which he could roll himself sideways when he wanted to +enter it. After he had completed this last piece of work, he scratched +the date of the year of his extraordinary labours (1735) on the rock; +and then removed his wife and family from their cottage, and lodged them +in the cavity he had made—never to return during his lifetime to the +dwellings of men!</p> + +<p>Here he lived and here he worked, when he could get work. He paid no +rent now: he wanted no furniture; he struggled no longer to appear to +the world as his equals appeared; he required no more money than would +procure for his family and himself the barest necessaries of life; he +suffered no interruptions from his fellow-workmen, who thought him a +madman, and kept out of his way; and—most precious privilege of his new +position—he could at last shorten his hours of labour, and lengthen his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>hours of study, with impunity. Having no temptations to spend money, no +hard demands of an inexorable landlord to answer, he could now work with +his brains as well as his hands; he could toil at his problems, +scratching them upon the tops of rocks, under the open sky, amid the +silence of the great moor. Henceforth, nothing moved, nothing depressed +him. The storms of winter rushed over his unsheltered dwelling, but +failed to dislodge him. He taught his family to brave solitude and cold +in the cavern among the rocks, as <i>he</i> braved them. In the cell that he +had scooped out for his wife (the roof of which has now fallen in) some +of his children died, and others were born. They point out the rock +where he used to sit on calm summer evenings, absorbed over his tattered +copy of Euclid. A geometrical "puzzle," traced by his hand, still +appears on the stone. When he died, what became of his family, no one +can tell. Nothing more is known of him than that he never quitted the +wild place of his exile; that he continued to the day of his death to +live contentedly with his wife and children, amid a civilized nation, +under such a shelter as would hardly serve the first savage tribes of +the most savage country—to live, starving out poverty and want on a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>barren wild; forsaking all things enduring all things for the love of +Knowledge, which he could still nobly follow through trials and +extremities, without encouragement of fame or profit, without vantage +ground of station or wealth, for its own dear sake. Beyond this, nothing +but conjecture is left. The cell, the bed-place, the lines traced on the +rocks, the inscription of the year in which he hewed his habitation out +of them, are all the memorials that remain of Daniel Gumb.</p> + +<p>We lingered about the wild habitation of the stonemason and his family, +until sunset. Long shadows of rocks lay over the moor, the breeze had +freshened and was already growing chill, when we set forth, at last, to +trace our way back to Liskeard. It was too late now to think of +proceeding on our journey, and sleeping at the next town on our line of +route.</p> + +<p>Returning in a new direction, we found ourselves once more walking on a +high road, just as the sun had gone down, and the grey twilight was +falling softly over the landscape. Stopping near a lonely farm-house, we +went into a field to look at another old British monument to which our +attention had been directed. We saw a square stone column—now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>broken +into two pieces—ornamented with a curiously carved pattern, and +exhibiting an inscription cut in irregular, mysterious characters. Those +who have deciphered them, have discovered that the column is nearly a +thousand years old; that it was raised as a sepulchral monument over the +body of Dungerth King of Cornwall; and that the letters carved on it +form some Latin words, which may be thus translated:—"<span class="smcap">Pray for the +soul of Dungerth.</span>" Seen in the dim light of the last quiet hour of +evening, there was something solemn and impressive about the appearance +of the old tombstone—simple though it was. After leaving it, we soon +entered once more into regions of fertility. Cottages, cornfields, and +trees surrounded us again. We passed through pleasant little valleys; +over brooks crossed by quaint wooden bridges; up and down long lanes, +where tall hedges and clustering trees darkened the way—where the +stag-beetle flew slowly by, winding "his small but sullen horn," and +glow-worms glimmered brightly in the long, dewy grass by the roadside. +The moon, rising at first red and dull in a misty sky, brightened as we +went on, and lighted us brilliantly along all that remained of our +night-walk back to the town.</p> + +<p>I have only to add, that, when we arrived at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>Liskeard, the lachrymose +landlady of the inn benevolently offered us for supper the identical +piece of cold "<i>corned beef</i>" which she had offered us for dinner the +day before; and further proposed that we should feast at our ease in the +private dungeon dining-room at the back of the house. But one mode of +escape was left—we decamped at once to the large and comfortable hotel +of the town; and there our pleasant day's pilgrimage to the moors of +Cornwall concluded as agreeably as it had begun.</p> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I visited St. Cleer's Well, for the second time, ten years +after the above lines were written; and I am happy to say that two +gentlemen, interested in this beautiful ruin, are about to restore +it—using the old materials for the purpose, and exactly following the +original design. (March, 1861.)</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="IV" id="IV"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>IV.</h2> + +<h2>CORNISH PEOPLE.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It is my purpose, in this place, to communicate some few facts relating +to the social condition of the inhabitants of Cornwall, which were +kindly furnished to me by friends on the spot; adding to the statement +thus obtained, such anecdotes and illustrations of popular character as +I collected from my own observations in the capacity of a tourist on +foot.</p> + +<p>If the reader desires to compare at a glance the condition of the +Cornish people with the condition of their brethren in other parts of +England, one small particle of practical information will enable him to +do so at once. In the Government Tables of Mortality for Cornwall there +are no returns of death from starvation.</p> + +<p>Many causes combine to secure the poor of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>Cornwall from that last worst +consequence of poverty to which the poor in most of the other divisions +of England are more or less exposed. The number of inhabitants in the +county is stated by the last census at 341,269—the number of square +miles that they have to live on, being 1327.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>—This will be found on +proper computation and comparison, to be considerably under the average +population of a square mile throughout the rest of England. Thus, the +supply of men for all purposes does not appear to be greater than the +demand in Cornwall. The remote situation of the county guarantees it +against any considerable influx of strangers to compete with the natives +for work on their own ground. We met a farmer there, who was so far from +being besieged in harvest time by claimants for labour on his land, that +he was obliged to go forth to seek them himself at a neighbouring town, +and was doubtful whether he should find men enough left him unemployed +at the mines and the fisheries, to gather in his crops <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>in good time at +two shillings a day and as much "victuals and drink" as they cared to +have.</p> + +<p>Another cause which has contributed, in some measure, to keep Cornwall +free from the burthen of a surplus population of working men must not be +overlooked. Emigration has been more largely resorted to in that county, +than perhaps in any other in England. Out of the population of the +Penzance Union alone, nearly five per cent. left their native land for +Australia, or New Zealand, in 1849. The potato-blight was, at that time, +assigned as the chief cause of the readiness to emigrate; for it damaged +seriously the growth of a vegetable, from the sale of which, at the +London markets, the Cornish agriculturalists derived large profits, and +on which (with their fish) the Cornish poor depend as a staple article +of food.</p> + +<p>It is by the mines and fisheries (of both of which I shall speak +particularly in another place) that Cornwall is compensated for a soil, +too barren in many parts of the county, to be ever well cultivated +except at such an expenditure of capital as no mere farmer can afford. +From the inexhaustible mineral treasures in the earth, and from the +equally inexhaustible shoals of pilchards which annually visit the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>coast, the working population of Cornwall derive their regular means of +support, where agriculture would fail them. At the mines, the regular +rate of wages is from forty to fifty shillings a month; but miners have +opportunities of making more than this. By what is termed "working on +tribute," that is, agreeing to excavate the mineral lodes for a per +centage on the value of the metal they raise, some of them have been +known to make as much as six and even ten pounds each, in a month. When +they are unlucky in their working speculations, or perhaps thrown out of +employment altogether by the shutting up of a mine, they still have a +fair opportunity of obtaining farm labour, which is paid for (out of +harvest time) at the rate of nine shillings a week. But this is a +resource of which they are rarely obliged to take advantage. A plot of +common ground is included with the cottages that are let to them; and +the cultivation of this, helps to keep them and their families, in bad +times, until they find an opportunity of resuming work; when they may +perhaps make as much in one month, as an agricultural labourer can in +twelve.</p> + +<p>The fisheries not only employ all the inhabitants of the coast, but, in +the pilchard season, many of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>farm work-people as well. Ten thousand +persons—men, women, and children—derive their regular support from the +fisheries; which are so amazingly productive, that the "drift," or +deep-sea fishing, in Mount's Bay alone, is calculated to realize, on the +average, 30,000<i>l.</i> per annum.</p> + +<p>To the employment thus secured for the poor in the mines and fisheries +is to be added, as an advantage, the cheapness of rent and living in +Cornwall. Good cottages are let at from fifty shillings, to between +three and four pounds a-year—turf for firing grows in plenty on the +vast tracts of common land overspreading the country—all sorts of +vegetables are abundant and cheap, with the exception of potatoes, which +so decreased in 1849, in consequence of the disease, that the winter +stock was imported from France, Belgium, and Holland. The early +potatoes, however, grown in May and June, are cultivated in large +quantities, and realize on exportation a very high price. Corn generally +sells a little above the average. Fish is always within the reach of the +poorest people. In a good season, a dozen pilchards are sold for one +penny. Happily for themselves, the poor in Cornwall do not partake the +senseless prejudice against fish, so obstinately <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>adhered to by the poor +in many other parts of England. A Cornishman's national pride is in his +pilchards—he likes to talk of them, and boast about them to strangers; +and with reason, for he depends for the main support of life on the +tribute of these little fish which the sea yields annually in almost +countless shoals.</p> + +<p>The workhouse system in Cornwall is said, by those who are well +qualified to form an opinion on the subject, to be generally well +administered; the Unions in the eastern part of the county being the +least stringent in their regulations, and the most liberal in giving +out-of-door relief.</p> + +<p>Such, briefly, but I think not incorrectly stated, is the condition of +the poor in Cornwall, in relation to their means of subsistence as a +class. Looking to the fact that the number of labourers there is not too +much for the labour; comparing the rate of wages with rent and the price +of provisions; setting the natural advantages of the county fairly +against its natural disadvantages, it is impossible not to conclude that +the Cornish poor suffer less by their poverty, and enjoy more +opportunities of improving their social position, than the majority of +their brethren in many other counties of England. The general demeanour +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>and language of the people themselves amply warrant this conclusion. +The Cornish are essentially a cheerful, contented race. The views of the +working men are remarkably moderate and sensible—I never met with so +few grumblers anywhere.</p> + +<p>My opportunities of correctly estimating the state of education among +the people, were not sufficiently numerous to justify me in offering to +the reader more than a mere opinion on the subject. Such few +observations as I was able to make, inclined me to think that, in +education, the mass of the population was certainly below the average in +England, with one exception—that of the classes employed in the mines. +All of these men with whom I held any communication, would not have been +considered badly-informed persons in a higher condition of life. They +possessed much more than a common mechanical knowledge of their own +calling, and even showed a very fair share of information on the subject +of the history and antiquities of their native county. As usual, the +agricultural inhabitants appeared to rank lowest in the scale of +education and general intelligence. Among this class, and among the +fishermen, the strong superstitious feelings of the ancient days of +Cornwall still survive, and promise long to remain, handed down <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>from +father to son as heirlooms of tradition, gathered together in a remote +period, and venerable in virtue of their antiquity. The notion, for +instance, that no wound will fester as long as the instrument by which +it was inflicted is kept bright and clean, still prevails extensively +among them. But a short time since, a boy in Cornwall was placed under +the care of a medical man (who related the anecdote to me) for a wound +in the back from a pitchfork; his relatives—cottagers of +respectability—firmly believe that his cure was accelerated by the +pains they took to keep the prongs of the pitchfork in a state of the +highest polish, night and day, throughout the whole period of his +illness, and down to the last hour of his complete restoration to +health.</p> + +<p>Another and a more remarkable instance of the superstitions prevailing +among the least educated classes of the people, was communicated to me +by the same informant—a gentleman whose life had been passed in +Cornwall, and who was highly and deservedly respected by all those among +whom he resided.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>A small farmer living in one of the most western districts of the +county, died some years back of what was supposed at the time to be +"English Cholera." A few weeks after his decease, his wife married +again. This circumstance excited some attention in the neighbourhood. It +was remembered that the woman had lived on very bad terms with her late +husband, that she had on many occasions exhibited strong symptoms of +possessing a very vindictive temper, and that during the farmer's +lifetime she had openly manifested rather more than a Platonic +preference for the man whom she subsequently married. Suspicion was +generally excited: people began to doubt whether the first husband had +died fairly. At length the proper order was applied for, and his body +was disinterred. On examination, enough arsenic to have poisoned three +men was found in his stomach. The wife was accused of murdering him, was +tried, convicted on the clearest evidence, and hanged. Very shortly +after she had suffered capital punishment, horrible stories of a ghost +were widely circulated. Certain people declared that they had seen a +ghastly resemblance of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>the murderess, robed in her winding-sheet, with +the black mark of the rope round her swollen neck, standing on stormy +nights upon her husband's grave, and digging there with a spade in +hideous imitation of the actions of the men who had disinterred the +corpse for medical examination. This was fearful enough—nobody dared go +near the place after nightfall. But soon, another circumstance was +talked of, in connexion with the poisoner, which affected the +tranquillity of people's minds in the village where she had lived, and +where it was believed she had been born, more seriously than even the +ghost-story itself.</p> + +<p>Near the church of this village there was a well, celebrated among the +peasantry of the district for one remarkable property—every child +baptized in its water (with which the church was duly supplied on +christening occasions) was secure from ever being hanged. No one doubted +that all the babies fortunate enough to be born and baptized in the +parish, though they might live to the age of Methuselah, and might +during that period commit all the capital crimes recorded in the +"Newgate Calendar," were still destined to keep quite clear of the +summary jurisdiction of Jack Ketch—no one doubted this, until the story +of the apparition of the murderess <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>began to be spread abroad. Then, +awful misgivings arose in the popular mind. A woman who had been born +close by the magical well, and who had therefore in all probability been +baptized in its water like her neighbours of the parish, had +nevertheless been publicly and unquestionably hanged. However, +probability was not always truth—everybody determined that the +baptismal register of the poisoner should be sought for, and that it +should be thus officially ascertained whether she had been christened +with the well water, or not. After much trouble, the important document +was discovered—not where it was first looked after, but in a +neighbouring parish vestry. A mistake had been made about the woman's +birthplace—she had not been baptized in the local church, and had +therefore not been protected by the marvellous virtue of the local +water. Unutterable was the joy and triumph of this discovery throughout +the village—the wonderful character of the parish well was wonderfully +vindicated—its celebrity immediately spread wider than ever. The +peasantry of the neighbouring districts began to send for the renowned +water before christenings; and many of them actually continue, to this +day, to bring it corked up in bottles to their churches, and to beg +particularly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>that it may be used whenever they present their children +to be baptized.</p> + +<p>Such instances of superstition as this—and others equally true might be +quoted—afford, perhaps, of themselves, the best evidence of the low +state of education among the people from whom they are produced. It is, +however, only fair to state, that children in Cornwall are now enabled +to partake of advantages which were probably not offered to their +parents. Good National Schools are in operation everywhere, and are—as +far as my own inquiries authorize me to report—well attended by pupils +recruited from the ranks of the poorest classes.</p> + +<p>Of the social qualities of the Cornish all that can be written may be +written conscientiously in terms of the highest praise. Travelling as my +companion and I did—in a manner which (whatever it may be now) was, ten +years since, perfectly new to the majority of the people—we found +constant opportunities of studying the popular character in its every +day aspects. We perplexed some, we amused others: here, we were welcomed +familiarly by the people, as travelling pedlars with our packs on our +backs; there, we were curiously regarded at an awful distance, and +respectfully questioned in circumlocutory phrases as to our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>secret +designs in walking through the country. Thus, viewing us sometimes as +their equals, sometimes as mysteriously superior to them, the peasantry +unconsciously exhibited many of their most characteristic peculiarities +without reserve. We looked at the spectacle of their social life from +the most searching point of view, for we looked at it from behind the +scenes.</p> + +<p>The manners of the Cornish of all ranks, down to the lowest, are +remarkably distinguished by courtesy—a courtesy of that kind which is +quite independent of artificial breeding, and which proceeds solely from +natural motives of kindness and from an innate anxiety to please. Few of +the people pass you without a salutation. Civil questions are always +answered civilly. No propensity to jeer at strangers is exhibited—on +the contrary, great solicitude is displayed to afford them any +assistance that they may require; and displayed, moreover, without the +slightest appearance of a mercenary motive. Thus, if you stop to ask +your way, you are not merely directed for a mile or two on, and then +told to ask again; but directed straight to the end of your destination, +no matter how far off. Turnings to the right, and turnings to the left, +short cuts across moors five miles away, churches that you must keep on +this hand, and rocks that you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>must keep on that, are impressed upon +your memory with the most laborious minuteness, and shouted after you +over and over again as long as you are within hearing. If the utmost +anxiety to give the utmost quantity of good advice could always avail +against accident or forgetfulness, no traveller in Cornwall who asks his +way as he goes, need ever lose himself.</p> + +<p>When people possess the virtue of natural courtesy they are seldom found +wanting in other higher virtues that are akin to it. Household +affection, ready hospitality, and great gratitude for small rewards of +services rendered, are all to be found among the Cornish peasantry. +Their fondness for their children is very pleasant to see. A word of +inquiry or praise addressed to the mother makes her face glow with +delight, and sends her away at once in search of the missing members of +her little family, who are ranged before you triumphantly, with smoothed +hair and carefully wiped faces, ready to be reviewed in a row. Both +father and mother often wish you, at parting, a good wife and a large +family (if you are not married already), just as they wish you a +pleasant journey and a prosperous return home again.</p> + +<p>Of Cornish hospitality we experienced many proofs, one of which may be +related as a sample. Arriving <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>late at a village, in the far west of the +county, we found some difficulty in arousing the people of the inn. +While we were waiting at the door, we heard a man who lived in a cottage +near at hand, and of whom we had asked our way on the road, inquiring of +some female member of his family, whether she could make up a spare bed. +We had met this man proceeding in our direction, and had so far +outstripped him in walking, that we had been waiting outside the inn +about a quarter of an hour before he got home. When the woman answered +his question in the negative, he directed her to put clean sheets on his +own bed, and then came out to tell us that if we failed to obtain +admission at the public-house, a lodging for the night was ready for us +under his own roof. We found on inquiry, afterwards, that he had looked +out of window, after getting home, while we were still disturbing the +village by a continuous series of assaults on the inn door; had +recognised us in the moonlight; and had thereupon not only offered us +his bed, but had got out of it himself to do so. When we finally +succeeded in gaining admittance to the inn, he declined an invitation to +sup with us, and wishing us a good night's rest, returned to his home. I +should mention, at the same time, that another bed was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>offered to us at +the vicarage, by the clergyman of the parish; and that after this +gentleman had himself seen that we were properly accommodated by our +landlady, he left us with an invitation to breakfast with him the next +morning. Thus is hospitality practised in Cornwall—a county where, it +must be remembered, a stranger is doubly a stranger, in relation to +provincial sympathies; where the national feeling is almost entirely +merged in the local feeling; where a man speaks of himself as <i>Cornish</i> +in much the same spirit as a Welshman speaks of himself as Welsh.</p> + +<p>In like manner, another instance drawn from my own experience, will best +display the anxiety which we found generally testified by the Cornish +poor to make the best and most grateful return in their power for +anything which they considered as a favour kindly bestowed. Such little +anecdotes as I here relate in illustration of popular character, cannot, +I think, be considered trifling; for it is by trifles, after all, that +we gain our truest appreciation of the marking signs of good or evil in +the dispositions of our fellow-beings; just as in the beating of a +single artery under the touch, we discover an indication of the strength +or weakness of the whole vital frame.</p> + +<p>On the granite cliffs at the Land's End I met <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>with an old man, +seventy-two years of age, of whom I asked some questions relative to the +extraordinary rocks scattered about this part of the coast. He +immediately opened his whole budget of local anecdotes, telling them in +a quavering high-treble voice, which was barely audible above the dash +of the breakers beneath, and the fierce whistling of the wind among the +rocks around us. However, the old fellow went on talking incessantly, +hobbling along before me, up and down steep paths and along the very +brink of a fearful precipice, with as much coolness as if his sight was +as clear and his step as firm as in his youth. When he had shown me all +that he could show, and had thoroughly exhausted himself with talking, I +gave him a shilling at parting. He appeared to be perfectly astonished +by a remuneration which the reader will doubtless consider the reverse +of excessive; thanked me at the top of his voice; and then led me, in a +great hurry, and with many mysterious nods and gestures, to a hollow in +the grass, where he had spread on a clean pocket-handkerchief a little +stock-in-trade of his own, consisting of barnacles, bits of rock and +ore, and specimens of dried seaweed. Pointing to these, he told me to +take anything I liked, as a present in return for what I had given <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>him. +He would not hear of my buying anything; he was not, he said, a regular +guide, and I had paid him more already than such an old man was +worth—what I took out of his handkerchief I must take as a present +only. I saw by his manner that he would be really mortified if I +contested the matter with him, so as a present I received one of his +pieces of rock—I had no right to deny him the pleasure of doing a kind +action, because there happened to be a few more shillings in my pocket +than in his.</p> + +<p>Nothing can be much better adapted to show how simple and +unsophisticated the Cornish character still remains in many respects, +than Cornish notions of organizing a public festival, and Cornish +enjoyment of that festival when it is organized. We had already seen how +they managed a public boat-race at Looe, and we saw again how they +conducted the preparations for the same popular festival, on a larger +scale, at the coast town of Fowey.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the dormant public enthusiasm was stimulated by +music at an uncomfortably early hour in the morning. Two horn players +and a clarionet player; a fat musician who blew through a very small +fife and kept time with his head; and a withered little man who beat +furiously on a mighty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>drum—drew up in martial array, one behind the +other, before the principal inn. Two boys, staring about them in a +stolidly important manner, and carrying flags which bore a suspicious +resemblance to India pocket handkerchiefs sewn together, formed in front +of the musicians. Two corpulent, solemn, elderly gentlemen in black +(belonging, apparently, to the churchwarden-type of the human species), +formed in their turn on each side of the boys—and then the procession +started; walking briskly up and down, and in and out, and round and +round the same streets, over and over again; the musicians playing on +all their instruments at once (drum included), without a moment's +intermission on the part of any one of them. Nothing could exceed the +gravity and silence of the popular concourse which followed this +grotesque procession. The solemn composure on the countenances of the +two corpulent civil officers who went before it, was reflected on the +features of the smallest boy who followed humbly behind. Profound +musical amateurs in attendance at a classical quartet concert, could +have exhibited no graver or more breathless attention than that +displayed by the inhabitants of Fowey, as they marched at the heels of +the peripatetic town band.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>But, while the music was proceeding, another adjunct to the dignity of +the festival was in course of preparation, which appealed more strongly +to popular sympathy even than the band and procession. A quantity of +young trees—miserable little saplings cut short in their early +infancy—were brought into the town, curiously sharpened at the stems. +Holes were rapidly drilled in the ground, here, there, and everywhere, +for their reception, at corners of house walls. While men outside set +them up, women in a high state of excitement appeared at first-floor +windows with long pieces of string, which they fastened to the branches +to steady the trees at the top, hauling them about this way and that +most unmercifully during the operation, and then vanishing to tie the +loose ends of the lines to bars of grates and legs of tables. Mazes of +long tight strings ran all across our room at the inn; broken twigs and +drooping leaves peered in sadly at us through the three windows that +lighted it. We were driven about from corner to corner out of the way of +this rigging by an imperious old woman, who fastened and fettered the +wretched trees with as fierce an air as if they were criminals whom she +was handcuffing, and who at last fairly told us that she thought we had +better leave the room, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>see how beautiful things looked from the +outside. On obeying this intimation, we found that the trees had +absorbed the whole public attention to themselves. The band marched by, +playing furiously; but the boys deserted it. The people from the +country, hastening into the town, hot and eager, paused, reckless of the +music, reckless of the flags, reckless of the procession, to look forth +upon the streets "with verdure clad." The popularity of the Sons of +Apollo was a thing of the past already! Nothing can well be imagined +more miserably ugly than the appearance of the trees, standing strung +into unnatural positions, and looking half dead already; but they +evidently inspired the liveliest public satisfaction. Women returned to +the windows to give a last perfecting tug to their branches; men patted +approvingly with spades the loose earth round their stems. Spectators, +one by one, took a near view and a distant view, and then walked gently +by and took an occasional view, and lastly gathered together in little +groups and took a general view. As connoisseurs look at their pictures, +as mothers look at their children, as lovers look at their +mistresses—so did the people of Fowey assemble with one accord and look +at their trees.</p> + +<p>After all, however, I shall perhaps best illustrate <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>the simplicity of +character displayed by the Cornish country-people, if I leave the less +amusing preparations for inaugurating the Fowey boat-race untold, and +describe some of the peculiarities of behaviour and remark which the +appearance of my companion and myself called forth in all parts of +Cornwall. The mere sight of two strangers walking with such appendages +as knapsacks strapped on their shoulders, seemed of itself to provoke +the most unbounded wonder. We were stared at with almost incredible +pertinacity and good humour. People hard at work, left off to look at +us; while groups congregated at cottage doors, walked into the middle of +the road when they saw us approach, looked at us in front from that +commanding point of view until we passed them, and then wheeled round +with one accord and gazed at us behind as long as we were within sight. +Little children ran in-doors to bring out large children, as we drew +near. Farmers, overtaking us on horseback, pulled in, and passed at a +walk, to examine us at their ease. With the exception of bedridden +people and people in prison, I believe that the whole population of +Cornwall looked at us all over—back view and front view—from head to +foot!</p> + +<p>This staring was nowhere accompanied, either on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>the part of young or +old, by a jeering word or an impertinent look. We evidently astonished +the people, but we never tempted them to forget their natural +good-nature, forbearance, and self-restraint. On our side, the attentive +scrutiny to which we were subjected, was at first not a little +perplexing. It was difficult not to doubt occasionally whether some +unpleasantly remarkable change had not suddenly taken place in our +personal appearance—whether we might not have turned green or blue on +our travels, or have got noses as long as the preposterous nose of the +traveller through Strasburgh, in the tale of Slawkenbergius. It was not +until we had been some days in the county that we began to discover, by +some such indications as the following, that we owed the public +attention to our knapsacks, and not to ourselves.</p> + +<p>We enter a small public-house by the roadside to get a draught of beer. +In the kitchen, we behold the landlord and a tall man who is a customer. +Both stare as a matter of course; the tall man especially, after taking +one look at our knapsacks, fixes his eyes firmly on us and sits bolt +upright on the bench without saying a word—he is evidently prepared for +the worst we can do. We get into conversation with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>the landlord, a +jovial, talkative fellow, who desires greatly to know what we are, if we +have no objection. We ask him, what he thinks we are?—"Well," says the +landlord, pointing to my friend's knapsack, which has a square ruler +strapped to it, for architectural drawing—"well, I think you are both +of you <i>mappers</i>—mappers who come here to make new roads—you may be +coming to make a railroad, I dare say—we've had mappers in the country +before this—I know a mapper myself—here's both your good healths!" We +drink the landlord's good health in return, and disclaim the honour of +being "mappers;" we walk through the country (we tell him) for pleasure +alone, and take any roads we can get, without wanting to make new ones. +The landlord would like to know, if that is the case, why we carry those +weights at our backs?—Because we want to take our luggage about with +us. Couldn't we pay to ride?—Yes, we could. And yet we like walking +better?—Yes we do. This last answer utterly confounds the tall +customer, who has been hitherto listening intently to the dialogue. It +is evidently too much for his credulity—he pays his reckoning, and +walks out in a hurry without uttering a word. The landlord appears to be +convinced, but it is only in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>appearance. We leave him standing at his +door, keeping his eye on us as long as we are in sight, still evidently +persuaded that we are "mappers," but "mappers" of a bad order whose +presence is fraught with some unknown peril to the security of the +Queen's highway.</p> + +<p>We get on into another district. Here, public opinion is not flattering. +Some of the groups, gathered together in the road to observe us, begin +to speculate on our characters before we are quite out of hearing. Then, +this sort of dialogue, spoken in serious, subdued tones, just reaches +us: Question—What can they be? Answer—"<i>Trodgers!</i>"</p> + +<p>This is particularly humiliating, because it happens to be true. We +certainly do trudge, and are therefore properly, though rather +unceremoniously, called trudgers, or "trodgers." But we sink to a lower +depth yet, a little further on. We are viewed as objects for pity. It is +a fine evening; we stop and lean against a bank by the roadside to look +at the sunset. An old woman comes tottering by on high pattens, very +comfortably and nicely clad. She sees our knapsacks, and instantly stops +in front of us, and begins to moan lamentably. Not understanding at +first what this means, we ask respectfully if she feels <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>at all ill? +"Ah, poor fellows! poor fellows!" she sighs in answer, "obliged to carry +all your baggage on your own backs!—very hard! poor lads! very hard, +indeed!" And the good old soul goes away groaning over our evil plight, +and mumbling something which sounds very like an assurance that she has +got no money to give us.</p> + +<p>In another part of the county we rise again gloriously in worldly +consideration. We pass a cottage; a woman looks out after us, over the +low garden wall, and rather hesitatingly calls us back. I approach her +first, and am thus saluted: "If you please, sir, what have you got to +sell?" Again, an old man meets us on the road, stops, cheerfully taps +our knapsacks with his stick, and says: "Aha! you're tradesmen, eh? +things to sell? I say, have you got any tea" (pronounced <i>tay</i>); "I'll +buy some <i>tay</i>!" Further on, we approach a group of miners breaking ore. +As we pass by, we hear one asking amazedly, "What have they got to sell +in those things on their backs?" and another answering, in the prompt +tones of a guesser who is convinced that he guesses right, +"Guinea-pigs!"</p> + +<p>It is unfortunately impossible to convey to the reader an adequate idea, +by mere description, of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>extraordinary gravity of manner, the looks +of surprise and the tones of conviction which accompanied these various +popular conjectures as to our calling and station in life, and which +added immeasurably at the time to their comic effect. Curiously enough, +whenever they took the form of questions, any jesting in returning an +answer never seemed either to be appreciated or understood by the +country people. Serious replies shared much the same fate as jokes. +Everybody asked whether we could pay for riding, and nobody believed +that we preferred walking, if we could. So we soon gave up the idea of +affording any information at all; and walked through the country +comfortably as mappers, trodgers, tradesmen, guinea-pig-mongers, and +poor back-burdened vagabond lads, altogether, or one at a time, just as +the peasantry pleased.</p> + +<p>I have not communicated to the reader all the conjectures formed about +us, for the simple reason that many of them, when they ran to any +length, were by no means so intelligible as could be desired. It will +readily be imagined, that in a county which had a language of its own +(something similar to the Welsh) down to the time of Edward VI., if not +later—in a county where this language continued to be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>spoken among the +humbler classes until nearly the end of the seventeenth century, and +where it still gives their names to men, places, and implements—some +remnants of it must attach themselves to the dialect of English now +spoken by the lower orders. This is enough of itself to render Cornish +talk not very easy to be understood by ordinary strangers; but the +difficulty of comprehending it is still further increased by the manner +in which the people speak. They pronounce rapidly and indistinctly, +often running separate syllables into one another through a sentence, +until the whole sounds like one long fragmentary word. To the student in +philology a series of conversations with the Cornish poor would, I +imagine, afford ample matter for observation of the most interesting +kind. Some of their expressions have a character that is quite +patriarchal. Young men, for instance, are addressed by their elders as, +"my son"—everything eatable, either for man or beast, is commonly +denominated, "meat."</p> + +<p>It may be expected, before I close this hasty sketch of the Cornish +people, that I should touch on the dark side of the picture—unfinished +though it is—which I have endeavoured to draw. But I have nothing to +communicate on the subject of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>offences in Cornwall, beyond a few words +about "wrecking" and smuggling.</p> + +<p>Opinions have been divided among well-informed persons, as to the truth +or falsehood of those statements of travellers and historians, which +impute the habitual commission of outrages and robberies on sufferers by +shipwreck to the Cornish of former generations. Without entering into +this question of the past, which can only be treated as a matter for +discussion, I am happy, in proceeding at once to the present, to be able +to state, as a matter of fact, that "wrecking" is a crime unknown in the +Cornwall of our day. So far from maltreating shipwrecked persons, the +inhabitants of the sea-shore risk their lives to save them. I make this +assertion, on the authority of a gentleman whose life has been passed in +the West of Cornwall; whose avocations take him much among the poor of +all ranks and characters; and who has himself seen wrecked sailors +rescued from death by the courage and humanity of the population of the +coast.</p> + +<p>In reference to smuggling, many years have passed without one of those +fatal encounters between smugglers and revenue officers which, in other +days, gave a dark and fearful character to the contraband <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>trade in +Cornwall. So well is the coast watched, that no smuggling of any +consequence can now take place. It is only the oldest Cornish men who +can give you any account, from personal experience, of adventures in +"running a cargo;" and those that I heard described were by no means of +the romantic or interesting order.</p> + +<p>Beyond this, I have nothing further to relate regarding criminal +matters. It may not unreasonably be doubted whether a subject so serious +and so extensive as the Statistics of Crime, is not out of the scope of +a book like the present, whose only object is to tell a simple fireside +story which may amuse an idle, or solace a mournful hour. Moreover, +remembering the assistance and the kindness that my companion and I met +with throughout Cornwall—and those only who have travelled on foot can +appreciate how much the enjoyment of exploring a country may be +heightened or decreased, according to the welcome given to the stranger +by the inhabitants—remembering, too, that we walked late at night, +through districts inhabited only by the roughest and poorest classes, +entirely unmolested; and that we trusted much on many occasions to the +honesty of the people, and never found cause to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>repent our trust—I +cannot but feel that it would be an ungracious act to ransack newspapers +and Reports to furnish materials for recording in detail, the vices of a +population whom I have only personally known by their virtues. Let you +and I, reader, leave off with the same pleasant impressions of the +Cornish people—you, whose only object is to hear, and I whose only +object is to tell, the story of a holiday walk. There is enough to be +found in them that is good, amply to justify a little inattention to +whatever we may discover that is bad.</p> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> It may be necessary to remind the reader that this +statement respecting the population of Cornwall was written in the year +1850. I have no means at my disposal of ascertaining what the increase +in numbers may have been during the last ten years.—(March, 1861.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The gentleman here referred to—whose kind assistance while +I was writing these pages I can never forget—was Mr. Richard Moyle, +long resident as a medical man at Penzance. Since my first visit to +Cornwall, death has removed Mr. Moyle from the scene of his labours, to +the lasting and sincere regret of all who knew him.—(March, 1861.)</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="V" id="V"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>V.</h2> + +<h2>LOO-POOL</h2> +<br /> + +<p>"Now, I think it very much amiss," remarks Sterne, in 'Tristram Shandy,' +"that a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it +does not meddle with him, but that he must be turning about, and drawing +his pen at every kennel he crosses over, merely, o' my conscience, for +the sake of drawing it." I quote this wise and witty observation on a +bad practice of some travel-writers, as containing the best reason that +I can give the reader for transporting him at once over some sixty miles +of Cornish high-roads and footpaths, without stopping to drop one word +of description by the way. Having left off the record of our travels at +Liskeard, and taking it up again—as I mean to do here—at Helston, I +skip over five intermediate market-towns and two large villages, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>with a +mere dash of the pen. Lostwithiel, Fowey, St. Austell, Grampound, +Probus, Truro, Falmouth, are all places of mark and note, and have all +certain curiosities and sights of their own to interest the inquisitive +tourist; but, nevertheless, not one of them "meddled" with me in the +course of my rambles, and acting on Sterne's excellent principle, I +purpose "letting them alone" now. In other words, the several towns and +villages that I have enumerated, though presenting much that was +generally picturesque and attractive in the way of old buildings and +pretty scenery, exhibited little that was distinctive or original in +character; produced therefore rather pleasant than vivid impressions; +and would by no means suggest any very original series of descriptions +to fill the pages of a book which is confined to such subjects only as +are most exclusively and strikingly Cornish.</p> + +<p>The town of Helston, where we now halt for the first time since we left +the Cheese-Wring and St. Cleer's Well, might, if tested by its own +merits alone, be passed over as unceremoniously as the towns already +passed over before it. Its principal recommendation, in the opinion of +the inhabitants, appeared to be that it was the residence of several +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>very "genteel families," who have certainly not communicated much of +their gentility to the lower orders of the population—a riotous and +drunken set, the only bad specimens of Cornish people that I met with in +Cornwall. The streets of Helston are a trifle larger and a trifle duller +than the streets of Liskeard; the church is comparatively modern in +date, and superlatively ugly in design. A miserable altar-piece, daubed +in gaudy colours on the window above the communion-table, is the only +approach to any attempt at embellishment in the interior. In short, the +town has nothing to offer to attract the stranger, but a public +festival—a sort of barbarous carnival—held there annually on the 8th +of May. This festival is said to be of very ancient origin, and is +called "The Furry"—an old Cornish word, signifying a gathering; and, at +Helston particularly, a gathering in celebration of the return of +spring. The Furry begins early in the morning with singing, to an +accompaniment of drums and kettles. All the people in the town +immediately leave off work and scamper into the country; having reached +which, they scamper back again, garlanded with leaves and flowers, and +caper about hand-in-hand through the streets, and in and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>out of all the +houses, without let or hindrance. Even the "genteel" resident families +allow themselves to be infected with the general madness, and wind up +the day's capering consistently enough by a night's capering at a grand +ball. A full account of these extraordinary absurdities may be found in +Polwhele's "History of Cornwall."</p> + +<p>But, though thus uninteresting in itself, Helston must be visited by +every tourist in Cornwall for the sake of the grand, the almost +unrivalled scenery to be met with near it. The town is not only the best +starting-point from which to explore the noble line of coast rocks which +ends at the Lizard Head; but possesses the further recommendation of +lying in the immediate vicinity of the largest lake in Cornwall—Loo +Pool.</p> + +<p>The banks of Loo Pool stretch on either side to the length of two miles; +the lake, which in summer occupies little more than half the space that +it covers in winter, is formed by the flow of two or three small +streams. You first reach it from Helston, after a walk of half a mile; +and then see before you, on either hand, long ranges of hills rising +gently from the water's edge, covered with clustering trees, or occupied +by wide cornfields <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>and sloping tracts of common land. So far, the +scenery around Loo Pool resembles the scenery around other lakes; but as +you proceed, the view changes in the most striking and extraordinary +manner. Walking on along the winding banks of the pool, you taste the +water and find it soft and fresh, you see ducks swimming about in it +from the neighbouring farm-houses, you watch the rising of the fine +trout for which it is celebrated—every object tends to convince you +that you are wandering by the shores of an inland lake—when suddenly at +a turn in the hill slope, you are startled by the shrill cry of the +gull, and the fierce roar of breakers thunders on your ear—you look +over the light grey waters of the lake, and behold, stretching +immediately above and beyond them, the expanse of the deep blue ocean, +from which they are only separated by a strip of smooth white sand!</p> + +<p>You hurry on, and reach this bar of sand which parts the great English +Channel and the little Loo Pool—a child might run across it in a +minute! You stand in the centre. On one side, close at hand, water is +dancing beneath the breeze in glassy, tiny ripples; on the other, +equally close, water rolls in mighty waves, precipitated on the ground +in dashing, hissing, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>writhing floods of the whitest foam—here, +children are floating mimic boats on a mimic sea; there, the stateliest +ships of England are sailing over the great deep—both scenes visible in +one view. Rocky cliffs and arid sands appear in close combination with +rounded fertile hills, and long grassy slopes; salt spray leaping over +the first, spring-water lying calm beneath the last! No fairy vision of +Nature that ever was imagined is more fantastic, or more lovely than +this glorious reality, which brings all the most widely contrasted +characteristics of a sea view and an inland view into the closest +contact, and presents them in one harmonious picture to the eye.</p> + +<p>The ridge of sand between Loo Pool and the sea, which, by impeding the +flow of the inland streams spreads them in the form of a lake over the +valley-ground between two hills, is formed by the action of storms from +the south-west. Such, at least, is the modern explanation of the manner +in which Loo Bar has been heaped up. But there is an ancient legend in +connexion with it, which, tells a widely different story.</p> + +<p>It is said that the terrible Cornish giant, or ogre, Tregeagle, was +trudging homewards one day, carrying a huge sack of sand on his back, +which—being a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>giant of neat and cleanly habits—he designed should +serve him for sprinkling his parlour floor. As he was passing along the +top of the hills which now overlook Loo Pool, he heard a sound of +scampering footsteps behind him; and, turning round, saw that he was +hotly pursued by no less a person than the devil himself. Big as he was, +Tregeagle lost heart and ignominiously took to his heels: but the devil +ran nimbly, ran steadily, ran without losing breath—ran, in short, +<i>like</i> the devil. Tregeagle was fat, short-winded, had a load on his +back, and lost ground at every step. At last, just as he reached the +seaward extremity of the hills, he determined in despair to lighten +himself of his burden, and thus to seize the only chance of escaping his +enemy by superior fleetness of foot. Accordingly, he opened his huge +sack in a great hurry, shook out all his sand over the precipice, +between the sea and the river which then ran into it, and so formed in a +moment the Bar of Loo Pool.</p> + +<p>In the winter time, the lake is the cause and the scene of an +extraordinary ceremony. The heavy incessant rains which then fall (ice +is almost unknown in the moist climate of Cornwall), increase day by day +the waters of the Pool, until they encroach over the whole of the low +flat valley between Helston and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>sea. Then, the smooth paths of +turf, the little streams that run by their side—so pleasant to look on +in the summer time—are hidden by the great overflow. Mill-wheels are +stopped; cottages built on the declivities of the hill are threatened +with inundation. Out on the bar, at high tide, but two or three feet of +sand appear between the stormy sea on the one hand, and the stagnant +swollen lake on the other. If Loo Pool were measured now, it would be +found to extend to a circumference of seven miles.</p> + +<p>When the flooding of the lake has reached its climax, the millers, who +are the principal sufferers by the overflow, prepare to cut a passage +through the Bar for the superabundant waters of the Pool. Before they +can do this, however, they must conform to a curious old custom which +has been practised for centuries, and is retained down to the present +day. Procuring two stout leathern purses, they tie up three halfpence in +each, and then set off with them in a body to the Lord of the Manor. +Presenting him with their purses, they state their case with all due +formality, and request permission to cut their trench through the sand. +In consideration of the threepenny recognition of his rights, the Lord +of the Manor graciously accedes to the petition; and the millers, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>armed +with their spades and shovels, start for the Bar.</p> + +<p>Their projected labour is of the slightest kind. A mere ditch suffices +to establish the desired communication: and the water does the rest for +itself. On one occasion, so high was the tide on one side, and so full +the lake on the other, that a man actually scraped away sand enough with +his stick, to give vent to the waters of the Pool. Thus, after no very +hard work, the millers achieve their object; and the spectators watching +on the hill, behold a startling and magnificent scene.</p> + +<p>Tearing away the sand on either side, floods of fresh water rush out +furiously against floods of salt water leaping in, upheaved into mighty +waves by the winter gale. A foaming roaring battle between two opposing +forces of the same element takes place. The noise is terrific—it is +heard like thunder, at great distances off. At last, the heavy, smooth, +continuous flow of the fresh water prevails even over the power of the +ocean. Farther and farther out, rushing through a wider and wider +channel every minute, pour the great floods from the land, until the +salt water is stained with an ochre colour, over a surface of twenty +miles. But their force is soon spent: soon, the lake <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>sinks lower and +lower away from the slope of the hills. Then, with the high tide, the +sea reappears triumphantly, dashing and leaping, in clouds of spray, +through the channel in the sand—making the waters of the Pool +brackish—now, threatening to swell them anew to overflowing—and now, +at the ebb, leaving them to empty themselves again, in the manner of a +great tidal river. No new change takes place, until a storm from the +south-west comes on; and then, fresh masses of sand and shingle are +forced up—the channel is refilled—the bar is reconstructed as if by a +miracle. Again, the scene resumes its old features—again, there is a +sea on one side, and a lake on the other. But now, the Pool occupies +only its ordinary limits—now, the mill-wheels turn busily once more, +and the smooth paths and gliding streams reappear in their former +beauty, until the next winter rains shall come round, and the next +winter floods shall submerge them again.</p> + +<p>At the time when I visited the lake, its waters were unusually low. +Here, they ran calm and shallow, into little, glassy, flowery creeks, +that looked like fairies' bathing places. There, out in the middle, they +hardly afforded depth enough for a duck to swim in. Near to the Bar, +however, they spread forth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>wider and deeper; finely contrasted, in +their dun colour and perfect repose, with the flashing foaming breakers +on the other side. The surf forbade all hope of swimming; but, standing +where the spent waves ran up deepest, and where the spray flew highest +before the wind, I could take a natural shower-bath from the sea, in one +direction; and the next moment, turning round in the other, could wash +the sand off my feet luxuriously in the soft, fresh waters of Loo Pool.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="VI" id="VI"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>VI.</h2> + +<h2>THE LIZARD.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>We had waited throughout one long rainy day at Helston—"remote, +unfriended, melancholy, slow"—for a chance of finer weather before we +started to explore the Lizard promontory. But our patience availed us +little. The next morning, there was the soft, thick, misty Cornish rain +still falling, just as it had already fallen without cessation for +twenty-four hours. To wait longer, in perfect inactivity, and in the +dullest of towns—doubtful whether the sky would clear even in a week's +time—was beyond mortal endurance. We shouldered our knapsacks, and +started for the Lizard in defiance of rain, and in defiance of our +landlady's reiterated assertions that we should lose our way in the +mist, when we walked inland; and should slip into invisible holes, and +fall over fog-veiled precipices among the rocks, if we ventured to +approach the coast.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>What sort of scenery we walked through, I am unable to say. The rain was +above—the mud was below—the mist was all around us. The few objects, +near at hand, that we did now and then see, dripped with wet, and had a +shadowy visionary look. Sometimes, we met a forlorn cow steaming +composedly by the roadside—or an old horse, standing up to his fetlocks +in mire, and sneezing vociferously—or a good-humoured peasant, who +directed us on our road, and informed us with a grin, that this sort of +"fine rain" often lasted for a fortnight. Sometimes we passed little +villages built in damp holes, where trees, cottages, women scampering +backwards and forwards peevishly on domestic errands, big boys with +empty sacks over their heads and shoulders, gossiping gloomily against +barn walls, and ill-conditioned pigs grunting for admission at closed +kitchen doors, all looked soaked through and through together. Nothing, +in short, could be more dreary and comfortless than our walk for the +first two hours. But, after that, as we approached "Lizard Town," the +clouds began to part to seaward; layer after layer of mist drove past +us, rolling before the wind; peeps of faint greenish-blue sky appeared +and enlarged apace. By the time we had arrived at our destination, a +white, watery <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>sunlight was falling over the wet landscape. The +prognostications of our Cornish friends were pleasantly falsified. A +fine day was in store for us after all.</p> + +<p>The man who first distinguished the little group of cottages that we now +looked on, by the denomination of Lizard <i>Town</i>, must have possessed +magnificent ideas indeed on the subject of nomenclature. If the place +looked like anything in the world, it looked like a large collection of +farm out-buildings without a farm-house. Muddy little lanes intersecting +each other at every possible angle; rickety little cottages turned about +to all the points of the compass; ducks, geese, cocks, hens, pigs, cows, +horses, dunghills, puddles, sheds, peat-stacks, timber, nets, seemed to +be all indiscriminately huddled together where there was little or no +room for them. To find the inn amid this confusion of animate and +inanimate objects, was no easy matter; and when we at length discovered +it, pushed our way through the live stock in the garden, and opened the +kitchen door, this was the scene which burst instantaneously on our +view:—</p> + +<p>We beheld a small room literally full of babies, and babies' mothers. +Interesting infants of the tenderest possible age, draped in long +clothes and short clothes, and shawls and blankets, met the eye +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>wherever it turned. We saw babies propped up uncomfortably on the +dresser, babies rocking snugly in wicker cradles, babies stretched out +flat on their backs on women's knees, babies prone on the floor toasting +before a slow fire. Every one of these Cornish cherubs was crying in +every variety of vocal key. Every one of their affectionate parents was +talking at the top of her voice. Every one of their little elder +brothers was screaming, squabbling, and tumbling down in the passage +with prodigious energy and spirit. The mothers of England—and they +only—can imagine the deafening and composite character of the noise +which this large family party produced. To describe it is impossible.</p> + +<p>Ere long, while we looked on it, the domestic scene began to change. +Even as porters, policemen, and workmen of all sorts, gathered together +on the line of rails at a station, move aside quickly and with one +accord out of the way of the heavy engine slowly starting on its +journey—so did the congregated mothers in the inn kitchen now move back +on either hand with their babies, and clear a path for the great bulk of +the hostess leisurely advancing from the fireside, to greet us at the +door. From this most corpulent and complaisant of women, we received a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>hearty welcome, and a full explanation of the family orgies that were +taking place under her roof. The great public meeting of all the babies +in Lizard Town and the neighbouring villages, on which we had intruded, +had been convened by the local doctor, who had got down from London, +what the landlady termed a "lot of fine fresh matter," and was now about +to strike a decisive blow at the small-pox, by vaccinating all the +babies he could lay his hands on at "one fell swoop." The surgical +ceremonies were expected to begin in a few minutes.</p> + +<p>This last piece of information sent us out of the house without a +moment's delay. The sunlight had brightened gloriously since we had last +beheld it—the rain was over—the mist was gone. But a short distance +before us, rose the cliffs at the Lizard Head—the southernmost land in +England—and to this point we now hastened, as the fittest spot from +which to start on our rambles along the coast.</p> + +<p>On our way thither, short as it was, we observed a novelty. In the South +and West of Cornwall, the footpaths, instead of leading through or round +the fields, are all on the top of the thick stone walls—some four feet +high—which divide them. This curious arrangement for walking gives a +startling <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>and picturesque character to the figures of the country +people, when you see them at a distance, striding along, not on the +earth but above it, and often relieved throughout the whole length of +their bodies against the sky. Preserving our equilibrium, on these +elevated pathways, with some difficulty against the strong south-west +wind that was now blowing in our faces, we soon reached the topmost +rocks that crown the Lizard Head: and then, the whole noble line of +coast and the wild stormy ocean opened grandly into view.</p> + +<p>On each side of us, precipice over precipice, cavern within cavern, rose +the great cliffs protecting the land against the raging sea. Three +hundred feet beneath, the foam was boiling far out over a reef of black +rocks. Above and around, flocks of sea-birds flew in ever lengthening +circles, or perched flapping their wings and sunning their plumage, on +ledges of riven stone below us. Every object forming the wide sweep of +the view was on the vastest and most majestic scale. The wild varieties +of form in the jagged line of rocks stretched away eastward and +westward, as far as the eye could reach; black shapeless masses of mist +scowled over the whole landward horizon; the bright blue sky at the +opposite point was covered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>with towering white clouds which moved and +changed magnificently; the tossing and raging of the great bright sea +was sublimely contrasted by the solitude and tranquillity of the desert, +overshadowed land—while ever and ever, sounding as they first sounded +when the morning stars sang together, the rolling waves and the rushing +wind pealed out their primeval music over the whole scene!</p> + +<p>And now, when we began to examine the coast more in detail, inquiring +the names of remarkable objects as we proceeded, we found ourselves in a +country where each succeeding spot that the traveller visited, was +memorable for some mighty convulsion of Nature, or tragically associated +with some gloomy story of shipwreck and death. Turning from the Lizard +Head towards a cliff at some little distance, we passed through a field +on our way, overgrown with sweet-smelling wild flowers, and broken up +into low grassy mounds. This place is called "Pistol Meadow," and is +connected with a terrible event which is still spoken of by the country +people with superstitious awe.</p> + +<p>Some hundred years since, a transport-ship, filled with troops, was +wrecked on the reef off the Lizard Head. Two men only were washed ashore +alive. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>Out of the fearful number that perished, two hundred corpses +were driven up on the beach below Pistol Meadow; and there they were +buried by tens and twenties together in great pits, the position of +which is still revealed by the low irregular mounds that chequer the +surface of the field. The place was named, in remembrance of the +quantity of fire-arms,—especially pistols—found about the wreck of the +ill-fated ship, at low tide, on the reef below the cliffs. To this day, +the peasantry continue to regard Pistol Meadow with feelings of awe and +horror, and fear to walk near the graves of the drowned men at night. +Nor have many of the inhabitants yet forgotten a revolting circumstance +connected by traditional report with the burial of the corpses after the +shipwreck. It is said, that when dead bodies were first washed ashore, +troops of ferocious, half-starved dogs suddenly appeared from the +surrounding country, and could with difficulty be driven from preying on +the mangled remains that were cast up on the beach. Ever since that +period, the peasantry have been reported as holding the dog in +abhorrence. Whether this be true or not, it is certainly a rare +adventure to meet with a dog in the Lizard district. You may walk +through farm-yard after farm-yard, you may <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>enter cottage after cottage, +and never hear any barking at your heels;—you may pass, on the road, +labourer after labourer, and yet never find one of them accompanied, as +in other parts of the country, by his favourite attendant cur.</p> + +<p>Leaving Pistol Meadow, after gathering a few of the wild herbs growing +fragrant and plentiful over the graves of the dead, we turned our steps +towards the Lizard Lighthouse. As we passed before the front of the +large and massive building, our progress was suddenly and startlingly +checked by a hideous chasm in the cliff, sunk to a perpendicular depth +of seventy feet, and measuring more than a hundred in circumference. +Nothing prepares the stranger for this great gulf; no railing is placed +about it; it lies hidden by rising land, and the earth all around is +treacherously smooth. The first moment when you see it, is the moment +when you start back instinctively from its edge, doubtful whether the +hole has not yawned open in that very instant before your feet.</p> + +<p>This chasm—melodramatically entitled by the people, "The Lion's +Den"—was formed in an extraordinary manner, not many years since. In +the evening the whole surface of the down above the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>cliff was smooth to +the eye, and firm to the foot—in the morning it had opened into an +enormous hole. The men who kept watch at the Lighthouse, heard no sounds +beyond the moaning of the sea—felt no shock—looked out on the night, +and saw that all was apparently still and quiet. Nature suffered her +convulsion and effected her change in silence. Hundreds on hundreds of +tons of soil had sunk down into depths beneath them, none knew in how +long, or how short a time; but there the Lion's Den was in the morning, +where the firm earth had been the evening before.</p> + +<p>The explanation of the manner in which this curious landslip occurred, +is to be found by descending the face of the cliff, beyond the Lion's +Den, and entering a cavern in the rocks, called "Daw's Hugo" (or Cave). +The place is only accessible at low water. Passing from the beach +through the opening of the cavern, you find yourself in a lofty, +tortuous recess, into the farthest extremity of which, a stream of light +pours down from some eighty or a hundred feet above. This light is +admitted through the Lion's Den, and thus explains by itself the nature +of the accident by which that chasm was formed. Here, the weight of the +upper soil broke <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>through the roof of the cave; and the earth which then +fell into it, was subsequently washed away by the sea, which fills Daw's +Hugo at every flow of the tide. It has lately been noticed that the +loose particles of ground at the bottom of the Lion's Den, still +continue to sink gradually through the narrow, slanting passage into the +cave already formed; and it is expected that in no very long time the +lower extremity of the chasm will widen so far, as to make the sea +plainly visible through it from above. At present, the effect of the two +streams of light pouring into Daw's Hugo from two opposite +directions—one from the Lion's Den, the other from the seaward opening +in the rocks—and falling together, in cross directions on the black +rugged walls of the cave and the beautiful marine ferns growing from +them, is supernaturally striking and grand. Here, Rembrandt would have +loved to study; for here, even <i>his</i> sublime perception of the poetry of +light and shade might have received a new impulse, and learned from the +teaching of Nature one immortal lesson more.</p> + +<p>Daw's Hugo and the Lion's Den may be fairly taken as characteristic +types of the whole coast scenery about the Lizard Head, in its general +aspects. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>Great caves and greater landslips are to be seen both eastward +and westward. In calm weather you may behold the long prospects of riven +rock, in their finest combination, from a boat. At such times, you may +row into vast caverns, always filled by the sea, and only to be +approached when the waves ripple as calmly as the waters of a lake. +Then, you may see the naturally arched roof high above you, adorned in +the loveliest manner by marine plants waving to and fro gently in the +wind. Rocky walls are at each side of you, variegated in dark red and +dark green colours—now advancing, now receding, now winding in and out, +now rising straight and lofty, until their termination is hid in a +pitch-dark obscurity which no man has ever ventured to fathom to its +end. Beneath, is the emerald-green sea, so still and clear that you can +behold the white sand far below, and can watch the fish gliding swiftly +and stealthily out and in: while, all around, thin drops of moisture are +dripping from above, like rain, into the deep quiet water below, with a +monotonous echoing sound which half oppresses and half soothes the ear, +at the same time.</p> + +<p>On stormy days your course is different. Then, you wander along the +summits of the cliffs; and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>looking down, through the hedges of tamarisk +and myrtle that skirt the ends of the fields, see the rocks suddenly +broken away beneath you into an immense shelving amphitheatre, on the +floor of which the sea boils in fury, rushing through natural archways +and narrow rifts. Beyond them, at intervals as the waves fall, you catch +glimpses of the brilliant blue main ocean, and the outer reefs +stretching into it. Often, such wild views as these are relieved from +monotony by the prospect of smooth cornfields and pasture-lands, or by +pretty little fishing villages perched among the rocks—each with its +small group of boats drawn up on a slip of sandy beach, and its modest, +tiny gardens rising one above another, wherever the slope is gentle, and +the cliff beyond rises high to shelter them from the winter winds.</p> + +<p>But the place at which the coast scenery of the Lizard district arrives +at its climax of grandeur is Kynance Cove. Here, such gigantic specimens +are to be seen of the most beautiful of all varieties of rock—the +"serpentine"—as are unrivalled in Cornwall; perhaps, unrivalled +anywhere. A walk of two miles along the westward cliffs from Lizard +Town, brought us to the top of a precipice of three hundred feet. +Looking forward from this, we saw the white <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>sand of Kynance Cove +stretching out in a half circle into the sea.</p> + +<p>What a scene was now presented to us! It was a perfect palace of rocks! +Some rose perpendicularly and separate from each other, in the shapes of +pyramids and steeples—some were overhanging at the top and pierced with +dark caverns at the bottom—some were stretched horizontally on the +sand, here studded with pools of water, there broken into natural +archways. No one of these rocks resembled another in shape, size, or +position—and all, at the moment when we looked on them, were wrapped in +the solemn obscurity of a deep mist; a mist which shadowed without +concealing them, which exaggerated their size, and, hiding all the +cliffs beyond, presented them sublimely as separate and solitary objects +in the sea-view.</p> + +<p>It was now necessary, however, to occupy as little time as possible in +contemplating Kynance Cove from a distance; for if we desired to explore +it, immediate advantage was to be taken of the state of the tide, which +was already rapidly ebbing. Hurriedly descending the cliffs, therefore, +we soon reached the sand: and here, leaving my companion to sketch, I +set forth to wander among the rocks, doubtful whither to turn my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>steps +first. While still hesitating, I was fortunate enough to meet with a +guide, whose intelligence and skill well deserve such record as I can +give of them here; for, to the former I was indebted for much local +information and anecdote, and to the latter, for quitting Kynance Cove +with all my limbs in as sound a condition as when I first approached it.</p> + +<p>The guide introduced himself to me by propounding a sort of stranger's +catechism. 1st. "Did I want to see everything?"—"Certainly." 2nd. "Was +I giddy on the tops of high places?"—"No." 3rd. "Would I be so good, if +I got into a difficulty anywhere, as to take it easy, and catch hold of +him tight?"—"Yes, very tight!" With these answers the guide appeared to +be satisfied. He gave his hat a smart knock with one hand, to fix it on +his head; and pointing upwards with the other, said, "We'll try that +rock first, to look into the gulls' nests, and get some wild asparagus." +And away we went accordingly.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We mount the side of an immense rock which projects far out into the +sea, and is the largest of the surrounding group. It is called Asparagus +Island, from the quantity of wild asparagus growing among the long grass +on its summit. Half way up, we cross an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>ugly chasm. The guide points to +a small chink or crevice, barely discernible in one side of it, and says +"Devil's Bellows!" Then, first courteously putting my toes for me into a +comfortable little hole in the perpendicular rock side, which just fits +them, he proceeds to explain himself. Through the base of the opposite +extremity of the island there is a natural channel, into which the sea +rushes furiously at high tide: and finding no other vent but the little +crevice we now look down on, is expelled through it in long, thin jets +of spray, with a roaring noise resembling the sound of a gigantic +bellows at work. But the sea is not yet high enough to exhibit this +phenomenon, so the guide takes my toes out of the hole again for me, +just as politely as he put them in; and forthwith leads the way up +higher still—expounding as he goes, the whole art and mystery of +climbing, which he condenses into this axiom:—"Never loose one hand, +till you've got a grip with the other; and never scramble your toes +about, where toes have no business to be."</p> + +<p>At last we reach the topmost ridge of the island, and look down upon the +white restless water far beneath, and peep into one or two deserted +gulls' nests, and gather wild asparagus—which I can only describe as +bearing no resemblance at all, that I could discover, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>to the garden +species. Then, the guide points to another perpendicular rock, farther +out at sea, looming dark and phantom-like in the mist, and tells me that +he was the man who built the cairn of stones on its top: and then he +proposes that we shall go to the opposite extremity of the ridge on +which we stand, and look down into "The Devil's Throat."</p> + +<p>This desirable journey is accomplished with the greatest ease on his +part, and with considerable difficulty and delay on mine—for the wind +blows fiercely over us on the height; our rock track is narrow, rugged, +and slippery; the sea roars bewilderingly below; and a single false step +would not be attended with agreeable consequences. Soon, however, we +begin to descend a little from our "bad eminence," and come to a halt +before a wide, tunnelled opening, slanting sharply downwards in the very +middle of the island—a black, gaping hole, into the bottom of which the +sea is driven through some unknown subterranean channel, roaring and +thundering with a fearful noise, which rises in hollow echoes through +the aptly-named "Devil's Throat." About this hole no grass grew: the +rocks rose wild, jagged, and precipitous, all around it. If ever the +ghastly imagery of Dante's terrible "Vision" was realized on earth, it +was realized here.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>At this place, close to the mouth of the hole, the guide suggests that +we shall sit down and have a little talk!—and very impressive talk it +is, when he begins the conversation by bawling into my ear (and down the +Devil's Throat at the same time) to make himself heard above the fierce +roaring beneath us. Now, his tale is of tremendous jets of water which +he has seen, during the storms of winter, shot out of the hole before +which we sit, into the creek of the sea below—now, he tells me of a +shipwreck off Asparagus Island, of half-drowned sailors floating ashore +on pieces of timber, and dashed out to sea again just as they touched +the strand, by a jet from the Devil's Throat—now, he points away in the +opposite direction, under one of the steeple-shaped rocks, and speaks of +a chase after smugglers that began from this place; a desperate chase, +in which some of the smugglers' cargo, but not one of the smugglers +themselves, was seized—now, he talks of another great hole in the +landward rocks, where the sea may be seen boiling within: a hole into +which a man who was fishing for fragments of a wreck fell and was +drowned; his body being sucked away through some invisible channel, +never to be seen again by mortal eyes.</p> + +<p>Anon, the guide's talk changes from tragedy to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>comedy. He begins to +recount odd adventures of his own with strangers. He tells me of a huge +fat woman who was got up to the top of Asparagus Island, by the easiest +path, and by the exertions of several guides; who, left to herself, +gasped, reeled, and fell down immediately; and was just rolling off, +with all the momentum of sixteen stone, over the precipice below her, +when she was adroitly caught, and anchored fast to the ground, by the +ankle of one leg and the calf of the other. Then he speaks of an elderly +gentleman, who, while descending the rocks with him, suddenly stopped +short at the most dangerous point, giddy and panic-stricken, pouring +forth death-bed confessions of all his sins, and wildly refusing to move +another inch in any direction. Even this man the guide got down in +safety at last, by making stepping places of his hands, on which the +elderly gentleman lowered himself as on a ladder, ejaculating +incoherently all the way, and trembling in great agony long after he had +been safely landed on the sands.</p> + +<p>This last story ended, it is settled that we shall descend again to the +beach. Stimulated by the ease with which my worthy leader goes down +beneath me, I get over-confident in my dexterity, and begin to slip +here, and slide there, and come to awkward <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>pauses at precipitous +places, in what would be rather an alarming manner, but for the potent +presence of the guide, who is always beneath me, ready to be fallen +upon. Sometimes, when I am holding on with all the necessary tenacity of +grip, as regards my hands, but, "scrambling my toes about" in a very +disorderly and unworkmanlike fashion, he pops his head up from below for +me to sit on; and puts my feet into crevices for me, with many apologies +for taking the liberty! Sometimes, I fancy myself treading on what feels +like soft turf; I look down, and find that I am standing like an acrobat +on his shoulders, and hear him civilly entreating me to take hold of his +jacket next, and let myself down over his body to the ledge where he is +waiting for me. He never makes a false step, never stumbles, scrambles, +hesitates, or fails to have a hand always at my service. The nautical +metaphor of "holding on by your eyelids" becomes a fact in his case. He +really views his employer, as porters are expected to view a package +labelled "<i>glass with care</i>." I am firmly persuaded that he could take a +drunken man up and down Asparagus Island, without the slightest risk +either to himself or his charge; and I hold him in no small admiration, +when, after landing on the sand with something between a tumble and a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>jump, I find him raising me to my perpendicular almost before I have +touched the ground, and politely hoping that I feel quite satisfied, +hitherto, with his conduct as a guide.</p> + +<p>We now go across the beach to explore some caves—dry at low water—on +the opposite side. Some of these are wide, lofty, and well-lighted from +without. We walk in and out and around them, as if in great, irregular, +Gothic halls. Some are narrow and dark. Now, we crawl into them on hands +and knees; now, we wriggle onward a few feet, serpent-like, flat on our +bellies; now, we are suddenly able to stand upright in pitch darkness, +hearing faint moaning sounds of pent-up winds, when we are silent, and +long reverberations of our own voices, when we speak. Then, as we turn +and crawl out again, we soon see before us one bright speck of light +that may be fancied miles and miles away—a star shining in the earth—a +diamond sparkling in the bosom of the rock. This guides us out again +pleasantly; and, on gaining the open air, we find that while we have +been groping in the darkness, a change has been taking place in the +regions of light, which has altered and is still altering the aspect of +the whole scene.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>It is now two o'clock. The tide is rising fast; the sea dashes, in +higher and higher waves, on the narrowing beach. Rain and mist are both +gone. Overhead, the clouds are falling asunder in every direction, +assuming strange momentary shapes, quaint airy resemblances of the forms +of the great rocks among which we stand. Height after height along the +distant cliffs dawns on us gently; great golden rays shoot down over +them; far out on the ocean, the waters flash into a streak of fire; the +sails of ships passing there, glitter bright; yet a moment more, and the +glorious sunlight bursts out over the whole view. The sea changes soon +from dull grey to bright blue, embroidered thickly with golden specks, +as it rolls and rushes and dances in the wind. The sand at our feet +grows brighter and purer to the eye; the sea-birds flying and swooping +above us, look like flashes of white light against the blue firmament; +and, most beautiful of all, the wet serpentine rocks now shine forth in +full splendour beneath the sun; every one of their exquisite varieties +of colour becomes plainly visible—silver grey and bright yellow, dark +red, deep brown, and malachite green appear, here combined in thin +intertwined streaks, there outspread in separate <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>irregular +patches—glorious ornaments of the sea-shore, fashioned by no human +art!—Nature's own home-made jewellery, which the wear of centuries has +failed to tarnish, and the rage of tempests has been powerless to +destroy!</p> + +<p>But the hour wanes while we stand and admire; the surf dashes nearer and +nearer to our feet; soon, the sea will cover the sand, and rush swiftly +into the caves where we have slowly crawled. Already the Devil's Bellows +is at work—the jets of spray spout forth from it with a roar. The sea +thunders louder and louder in the Devil's Throat—we must gain the +cliffs while we have yet time. The guide takes his leave; my companion +unwillingly closes his sketch-book; and we slowly ascend on our inland +way together—looking back often and often, with no feigned regret, on +all that we are leaving behind us at <span class="smcap">Kynance Cove</span>.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="VII" id="VII"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>VII.</h2> + +<h2>THE PILCHARD FISHERY.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>If it so happened that a stranger in Cornwall went out to take his first +walk along the cliffs towards the south of the county, in the month of +August, that stranger could not advance far in any direction without +witnessing what would strike him as a very singular and alarming +phenomenon.</p> + +<p>He would see a man standing on the extreme edge of a precipice, just +over the sea, gesticulating in a very remarkable manner, with a bush in +his hand; waving it to the right and the left, brandishing it over his +head, sweeping it past his feet—in short, apparently acting the part of +a maniac of the most dangerous character. It would add considerably to +the startling effect of this sight on the stranger, if he were told, +while beholding it, that the insane individual before him was paid for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>flourishing the bush at the rate of a guinea a week. And if he, +thereupon, advanced a little to obtain a nearer view of the madman, and +then observed on the sea below (as he certainly might) a well-manned +boat, turning carefully to right and left exactly as the bush turned +right and left, his mystification would probably be complete, and the +right time would arrive to come to his rescue with a few charitable +explanatory words. He would then learn that the man with the bush was an +important agent in the Pilchard Fishery of Cornwall; that he had just +discovered a shoal of pilchards swimming towards the land; and that the +men in the boat were guided by his gesticulations alone, in securing the +fish on which they and all their countrymen on the coast depend for a +livelihood.</p> + +<p>To begin, however, with the pilchards themselves, as forming one of the +staple commercial commodities of Cornwall. They may be, perhaps, best +described as bearing a very close resemblance to the herring, but as +being rather smaller in size and having larger scales. Where they come +from before they visit the Cornish coast—where those that escape the +fishermen go to when they quit it, is unknown; or, at best, only vaguely +conjectured. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>All that is certain about them is, that they are met with, +swimming past the Scilly Isles, as early as July (when they are caught +with a drift-net). They then advance inland in August, during which +month the principal, or "in-shore," fishing begins; visit different +parts of the coast until October or November; and after that disappear +until the next year. They may be sometimes caught off the south-west +part of Devonshire, and are occasionally to be met with near the +southernmost coast of Ireland; but beyond these two points they are +never seen on any other portion of the shores of Great Britain, either +before they approach Cornwall, or after they have left it.</p> + +<p>The first sight from the cliffs of a shoal of pilchards advancing +towards the land, is not a little interesting. They produce on the sea +the appearance of the shadow of a dark cloud. This shadow comes on and +on, until you can see the fish leaping and playing on the surface by +thousands at a time, all huddled close together, and all approaching so +near to the shore, that they can be always caught in some fifty or sixty +feet of water. Indeed, on certain occasions, when the shoals are of +considerable magnitude, the fish behind have been known <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>to force the +fish before, literally up to the beach, so that they could be taken in +buckets, or even in the hand with the greatest ease. It is said that +they are thus impelled to approach the land by precisely the same +necessity which impels the fishermen to catch them as they appear—the +necessity of getting food.</p> + +<p>With the discovery of the first shoal, the active duties of the +"look-out" on the cliffs begin. Each fishing-village places one or more +of these men on the watch all round the coast. They are called "huers," +a word said to be derived from the old French verb, <i>huer</i>, to call out, +to give an alarm. On the vigilance and skill of the "huer" much depends. +He is, therefore, not only paid his guinea a week while he is on the +watch, but receives, besides, a perquisite in the shape of a per-centage +on the produce of all the fish taken under his auspices. He is placed at +his post, where he can command an uninterrupted view of the sea, some +days before the pilchards are expected to appear; and, at the same time, +boats, nets, and men are all ready for action at a moment's notice.</p> + +<p>The principal boat used is at least fifteen tons in burden, and carries +a large net called the "seine," which measures a hundred and ninety +fathoms in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>length, and costs a hundred and seventy pounds—sometimes +more. It is simply one long strip, from eleven to thirteen fathoms in +breadth, composed of very small meshes, and furnished, all along its +length, with lead at one side and corks at the other. The men who cast +this net are called the "shooters," and receive eleven shillings and +sixpence a week, and a perquisite of one basket of fish each out of +every haul.</p> + +<p>As soon as the "huer" discerns the first appearance of a shoal, he waves +his bush. The signal is conveyed to the beach immediately by men and +boys watching near him. The "seine" boat (accompanied by another small +boat, to assist in casting the net) is rowed out where he can see it. +Then there is a pause, a hush of great expectation on all sides. +Meanwhile, the devoted pilchards press on—a compact mass of thousands +on thousands of fish, swimming to meet their doom. All eyes are fixed on +the "huer;" he stands watchful and still, until the shoal is thoroughly +embayed, in water which he knows to be within the depth of the "seine" +net. Then, as the fish begin to pause in their progress, and gradually +crowd closer and closer together, he gives the signal; the boats come +up, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>and the "seine" net is cast, or, in the technical phrase "shot," +overboard.</p> + +<p>The grand object is now to enclose the entire shoal. The leads sink one +end of the net perpendicularly to the ground; the corks buoy up the +other to the surface of the water. When it has been taken all round the +fish, the two extremities are made fast, and the shoal is then +imprisoned within an oblong barrier of network surrounding it on all +sides. The great art is to let as few of the pilchards escape as +possible, while this process is being completed. Whenever the "huer" +observes from above that they are startled, and are separating at any +particular point, to that point he waves his bush, thither the boats are +steered, and there the net is "shot" at once. In whatever direction the +fish attempt to get out to sea again, they are thus immediately met and +thwarted with extraordinary readiness and skill. This labour completed, +the silence of intense expectation that has hitherto prevailed among the +spectators on the cliff, is broken. There is a great shout of joy on all +sides—the shoal is secured!</p> + +<p>The "seine'" is now regarded as a great reservoir of fish. It may remain +in the water a week or more. To secure it against being moved from its +position in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>case a gale should come on, it is warped by two or three +ropes to points of land in the cliff, and is, at the same time, +contracted in circuit, by its opposite ends being brought together, and +fastened tight over a length of several feet. While these operations are +in course of performance, another boat, another set of men, and another +net (different in form from the "seine") are approaching the scene of +action.</p> + +<p>This new net is called the "tuck;" it is smaller than the "seine," +inside which it is now to be let down for the purpose of bringing the +fish closely collected to the surface. The men who manage this net are +termed "regular seiners." They receive ten shillings a week, and the +same perquisite as the "shooters." Their boat is first of all rowed +inside the seine-net, and laid close to the seine-boat, which remains +stationary outside, and to the bows of which one rope at one end of the +"tuck-net" is fastened. The "tuck" boat then slowly makes the inner +circuit of the "seine," the smaller net being dropped overboard as she +goes, and attached at intervals to the larger. To prevent the fish from +getting between the two nets during this operation, they are frightened +into the middle of the enclosure by beating the water, at proper places, +with oars, and heavy stones fastened to ropes. When the "tuck" <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>net has +at length travelled round the whole circle of the "seine," and is +securely fastened to the "seine" boat, at the end as it was at the +beginning, everything is ready for the great event of the day, the +hauling of the fish to the surface.</p> + +<p>Now, the scene on shore and sea rises to a prodigious pitch of +excitement. The merchants, to whom the boats and nets belong, and by +whom the men are employed, join the "huer" on the cliff; all their +friends follow them; boys shout, dogs bark madly; every little boat in +the place puts off, crammed with idle spectators; old men and women +hobble down to the beach to wait for the news. The noise, the bustle, +and the agitation, increase every moment. Soon the shrill cheering of +the boys is joined by the deep voices of the "seiners." There they +stand, six or eight stalwart sunburnt fellows, ranged in a row in the +"seine" boat, hauling with all their might at the "tuck" net, and +roaring the regular nautical "Yo-heave-ho!" in chorus! Higher and higher +rises the net, louder and louder shout the boys and the idlers. The +merchant forgets his dignity, and joins them; the "huer," so calm and +collected hitherto, loses his self-possession and waves his cap +triumphantly; even you and I, reader, uninitiated spectators though we +are, catch <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>the infection, and cheer away with the rest, as if our bread +depended on the event of the next few minutes. "Hooray! hooray! Yo-hoy, +hoy, hoy! Pull away, boys! Up she comes! Here they are! Here they are!" +The water boils and eddies; the "tuck" net rises to the surface, and one +teeming, convulsed mass of shining, glancing, silvery scales; one +compact crowd of tens of thousands of fish, each one of which is madly +endeavouring to escape, appears in an instant!</p> + +<p>The noise before was as nothing compared with the noise now. Boats as +large as barges are pulled up in hot haste all round the net; baskets +are produced by dozens: the fish are dipped up in them, and shot out, +like coals out of a sack, into the boats. Ere long, the men are up to +their ankles in pilchards; they jump upon the rowing benches and work +on, until the boats are filled with fish as full as they can hold, and +the gunwales are within two or three inches of the water. Even yet, the +shoal is not exhausted; the "tuck" net must be let down again and left +ready for a fresh haul, while the boats are slowly propelled to the +shore, where we must join them without delay.</p> + +<p>As soon as the fish are brought to land, one set of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>men, bearing +capacious wooden shovels, jump in among them; and another set bring +large hand-barrows close to the side of the boat, into which the +pilchards are thrown with amazing rapidity. This operation proceeds +without ceasing for a moment. As soon as one barrow is ready to be +carried to the salting-house, another is waiting to be filled. When this +labour is performed by night, which is often the case, the scene becomes +doubly picturesque. The men with the shovels, standing up to their knees +in pilchards, working energetically; the crowd stretching down from the +salting-house, across the beach, and hemming in the boat all round; the +uninterrupted succession of men hurrying backwards and forwards with +their barrows, through a narrow way kept clear for them in the throng; +the glare of the lanterns giving light to the workmen, and throwing red +flashes on the fish as they fly incessantly from the shovels over the +side of the boat—all combine together to produce such a series of +striking contrasts, such a moving picture of bustle and animation, as +not even the most careless of spectators could ever forget.</p> + +<p>Having watched the progress of affairs on the shore, we next proceed to +the salting-house, a quadrangular structure of granite, well-roofed in +all round the sides, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>but open to the sky in the middle. Here, we must +prepare ourselves to be bewildered by incessant confusion and noise; for +here are assembled all the women and girls in the district, piling up +the pilchards on layers of salt, at three-pence an hour; to which +remuneration, a glass of brandy and a piece of bread and cheese are +hospitably added at every sixth hour, by way of refreshment. It is a +service of some little hazard to enter this place at all. There are men +rushing out with empty barrows, and men rushing in with full barrows, in +almost perpetual succession. However, while we are waiting for an +opportunity to slip through the doorway, we may amuse ourselves by +watching a very curious ceremony which is constantly in course of +performance outside it.</p> + +<p>As the filled barrows are going into the salting-house, we observe a +little urchin running by the side of them, and hitting their edges with +a long cane, in a constant succession of smart strokes, until they are +fairly carried through the gate, when he quickly returns to perform the +same office for the next series that arrive. The object of this +apparently unaccountable proceeding is soon practically illustrated by a +group of children, hovering about the entrance of the salting-house, who +every now and then dash <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>resolutely up to the barrows, and endeavour to +seize on as many fish as they can take away at one snatch. It is +understood to be their privilege to keep as many pilchards as they can +get in this way by their dexterity, in spite of a liberal allowance of +strokes aimed at their hands; and their adroitness richly deserves its +reward. Vainly does the boy officially entrusted with the administration +of the cane, strike the sides of the barrow with malignant smartness and +perseverance—fish are snatched away with lightning rapidity and +pickpocket neatness of hand. The hardest rap over the knuckles fails to +daunt the sturdy little assailants. Howling with pain, they dash up to +the next barrow that passes them, with unimpaired resolution; and often +collect their ten or a dozen fish a piece, in an hour or two. No +description can do justice to the "Jack-in-Office" importance of the boy +with the cane, as he flourishes it about ferociously in the full +enjoyment of his vested right to castigate his companions as often as he +can. As an instance of the early development of the tyrannic tendencies +of human nature, it is, in a philosophical point of view, quite unique.</p> + +<p>But now, while we have a chance, while the doorway is accidentally clear +for a few moments, let us <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>enter the salting-house, and approach the +noisiest and most amusing of all the scenes which the pilchard fishery +presents. First of all we pass a great heap of fish lying in one recess +inside the door, and an equally great heap of coarse, brownish salt +lying in another. Then we advance farther, get out of the way of +everybody, behind a pillar, and see a whole congregation of the fair sex +screaming, talking, and—to their honour be it spoken—working at the +same time, round a compact mass of pilchards which their nimble hands +have already built up to a height of three feet, a breadth of more than +four, and a length of twenty. Here we have every variety of the "fairer +half of creation" displayed before us, ranged round an odoriferous heap +of salted fish. Here we see crones of sixty and girls of sixteen; the +ugly and the lean, the comely and the plump; the sour-tempered and the +sweet—all squabbling, singing, jesting, lamenting, and shrieking at the +very top of their very shrill voices for "more fish," and "more salt;" +both of which are brought from the stores, in small buckets, by a long +train of children running backwards and forwards with unceasing activity +and in bewildering confusion. But, universal as the uproar is, the work +never flags; the hands move as fast as the tongues; there may be no +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>silence and no discipline, but there is also no idleness and no delay. +Never was three-pence an hour more joyously or more fairly earned than +it is here!</p> + +<p>The labour is thus performed. After the stone floor has been swept +clean, a thin layer of salt is spread on it, and covered with pilchards +laid partly edgewise, and close together. Then another layer of salt, +smoothed fine with the palm of the hand, is laid over the pilchards; and +then more pilchards are placed upon that; and so on until the heap rises +to four feet or more. Nothing can exceed the ease, quickness, and +regularity with which this is done. Each woman works on her own small +area, without reference to her neighbour; a bucketful of salt and a +bucketful of fish being shot out in two little piles under her hands, +for her own especial use. All proceed in their labour, however, with +such equal diligence and equal skill, that no irregularities appear in +the various layers when they are finished—they run as straight and +smooth from one end to the other, as if they were constructed by +machinery. The heap, when completed, looks like a long, solid, +neatly-made mass of dirty salt; nothing being now seen of the pilchards +but the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>extreme tips of their noses or tails, just peeping out in rows, +up the sides of the pile.</p> + +<p>Having now inspected the progress of the pilchard fishery, from the +catching to the curing, we have seen all that we can personally observe +of its different processes, at one opportunity. What more remains to be +done, will not be completed until after an interval of several weeks. We +must be content to hear about this from information given to us by +others. Yonder, sitting against the outside wall of the salting-house, +is an intelligent old man, too infirm now to do more than take care of +the baby that he holds in his arms, while the baby's mother is earning +her three-pence an hour inside. To this ancient we will address all our +inquiries; and he is well qualified to answer us, for the poor old +fellow has worked away all the pith and marrow of his life in the +pilchard fishery.</p> + +<p>The fish—as we learn from our old friend, who is mightily pleased to be +asked for information—will remain in salt, or, as the technical +expression is, "in bulk," for five or six weeks. During this period, a +quantity of oil, salt, and water drips from them into wells cut in the +centre of the stone floor on which they are placed. After the oil has +been collected <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>and clarified, it will sell for enough to pay off the +whole expense of the wages, food, and drink given to the +"seiners"—perhaps defraying other incidental charges besides. The salt +and water left behind, and offal of all sorts found with it, furnish a +valuable manure. Nothing in the pilchard itself, or in connexion with +the pilchard, runs to waste—the precious little fish is a treasure in +every part of him.</p> + +<p>After the pilchards have been taken out of "bulk," they are washed clean +in salt water, and packed in hogsheads, which are then sent for +exportation to some large sea-port—Penzance for instance—in coast +traders. The fish reserved for use in Cornwall, are generally cured by +those who purchase them. The export trade is confined to the shores of +the Mediterranean—Italy and Spain providing the two great foreign +markets for pilchards. The home consumption, as regards Great Britain, +is nothing, or next to nothing. Some variation takes place in the prices +realized by the foreign trade—their average, wholesale, is stated to be +about fifty shillings per hogshead.</p> + +<p>As an investment for money, on a small scale, the pilchard fishery +offers the first great advantage of security. The only outlay necessary, +is that for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>providing boats and nets, and for building salting-houses—an +outlay which, it is calculated, may be covered by a thousand pounds. The +profits resulting from the speculation are immediate and large. +Transactions are managed on the ready money principle, and the markets of +Italy and Spain (where pilchards are considered a great delicacy) are +always open to any supply. The fluctuation between a good season's +fishing and a bad season's fishing is rarely, if ever, seriously great. +Accidents happen but seldom; the casualty most dreaded, being the +enclosure of a large fish along with a shoal of pilchards. A "ling," for +instance, if unfortunately imprisoned in the seine, often bursts through +its thin meshes, after luxuriously gorging himself with prey, and is of +course at once followed out of the breach by all the pilchards. Then, not +only is the shoal lost, but the net is seriously damaged, and must be +tediously and expensively repaired. Such an accident as this, however, +very seldom happens; and when it does, the loss occasioned falls on those +best able to bear it, the merchant speculators. The work and wages of the +fishermen go on as usual.</p> + +<p>Some idea of the almost incalculable multitude of pilchards caught on +the shores of Cornwall, may be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>formed from the following <i>data</i>. At the +small fishing cove of Trereen, 600 hogsheads were taken in little more +than one week, during August, 1850. Allowing 2,400 fish only to each +hogshead—3,000 would be the highest calculation—we have a result of +1,440,000 pilchards, caught by the inhabitants of one little village +alone, on the Cornish coast, at the commencement of the season's +fishing.</p> + +<p>At considerable sea-port towns, where there is an unusually large supply +of men, boats, and nets, such figures as those quoted above, are far +below the mark. At St. Ives, for example, 1,000 hogsheads were taken in +the first three seine nets cast into the water. The number of hogsheads +exported annually, averages 22,000. In 1850, 27,000 were secured for the +foreign markets. Incredible as these numbers may appear to some readers, +they may nevertheless be relied on; for they are derived from +trustworthy sources—partly from local returns furnished to me; partly +from the very men who filled the baskets from the boat-side, and who +afterwards verified their calculations by frequent visits to the +salting-houses.</p> + +<p>Such is the pilchard fishery of Cornwall—a small unit, indeed, in the +vast aggregate of England's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>internal sources of wealth: but yet neither +unimportant nor uninteresting, if it be regarded as giving active +employment to a hardy and honest race who would starve without it; as +impartially extending the advantages of commerce to one of the remotest +corners of our island; and, more than all, as displaying a wise and +beautiful provision of Nature, by which the rich tribute of the great +deep is most generously lavished on the land most in need of a +compensation for its own sterility.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>VIII.</h2> + +<h2>THE LAND'S END.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Something like what Jerusalem was to the pilgrim in the Holy Land, the +Land's End is—comparing great things with small—to the tourist in +Cornwall. It is the Ultima Thule where his progress stops—the shrine +towards which his face has been set, from the first day when he started +on his travels—the main vent, through which all the pent-up enthusiasm +accumulated along the line of route is to burst its way out, in one long +flow of admiration and delight.</p> + +<p>The Land's End! There is something in the very words that stirs us all. +It was the name that struck us most, and was best remembered by us, as +children, when we learnt our geography. It fills the minds of +imaginative people with visions of barrenness and solitude, with dreams +of some lonely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>promontory, far away by itself out in the sea—the sort +of place where the last man in England would be most likely to be found +waiting for death, at the end of the world! It suggests even to the most +prosaically constituted people, ideas of tremendous storms, of flakes of +foam flying over the land before the wind, of billows in convulsion, of +rocks shaken to their centre, of caves where smugglers lurk in ambush, +of wrecks and hurricanes, desolation, danger, and death. It awakens +curiosity in the most careless—once hear of it, and you long to see +it—tell your friends that you have travelled in Cornwall, and ten +thousand chances to one, the first question they ask is:—"Have you been +to the Land's End?"</p> + +<p>And yet, strange to say, this spot so singled out and set apart by our +imaginations as something remarkable and even unique of its kind, is as +a matter of fact, not distinguishable from any part of the coast on +either side of it, by any local peculiarity whatever. If you desire +really and truly to stand on the Land's End itself, you must ask your +way to it, or you are in danger of mistaking any one of the numerous +promontories on the right hand and the left, for your actual place of +destination. But I am anticipating. Before I say more about the Land's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>End, it is necessary to relate how my companion and I got there, and +what we saw that was interesting and characteristic on our road.</p> + +<p>The reader may perhaps remember that he last left us scrambling out of +reach of the tide, up the cliffs overlooking Kynance Cove. From that +place we got back to Helston in mist and rain, just as we had left it. +From Helston we proceeded to Marazion,—stopping there to visit St. +Michael's Mount, so well known to readers of all classes by innumerable +pictures and drawings, and by descriptions scarcely less plentiful, that +they will surely be relieved rather than disappointed, if these pages +exhibit the distinguished negative merit of passing the Mount without +notice. From Marazion we walked to Penzance, from Penzance to the +beautiful coast scenery at Lamorna Cove, and thence to Trereen, +celebrated as the halting place for a visit to one of Cornwall's +greatest curiosities—the Loggan Stone.</p> + +<p>This far-famed rock rises on the top of a bold promontory of granite, +jutting far out into the sea, split into the wildest forms, and towering +precipitously to a height of a hundred feet. When you reach the Loggan +Stone, after some little climbing up perilous-looking places, you see a +solid, irregular mass <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>of granite, which is computed to weigh eighty +five tons, supported by its centre only, on a flat, broad rock, which, +in its turn, rests on several others stretching out around it on all +sides. You are told by the guide to turn your back to the uppermost +stone; to place your shoulders under one particular part of its lower +edge, which is entirely disconnected, all round, with the supporting +rock below; and in this position to push upwards slowly and steadily, +then to leave off again for an instant, then to push once more, and so +on, until after a few moments of exertion, you feel the whole immense +mass above you moving as you press against it. You redouble your +efforts—then turn round—and see the massy Loggan Stone, set in motion +by nothing but your own pair of shoulders, slowly rocking backwards and +forwards with an alternate ascension and declension, at the outer edges, +of at least three inches. You have treated eighty-five tons of granite +like a child's cradle; and, like a child's cradle, those eighty-five +tons have rocked at your will!</p> + +<p>The pivot on which the Loggan Stone is thus easily moved, is a small +protrusion in its base, on all sides of which the whole surrounding +weight of rock is, by an accident of Nature, so exactly equalized, as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>to keep it poised in the nicest balance on the one little point in its +lower surface which rests on the flat granite slab beneath. But perfect +as this balance appears at present, it has lost something, the merest +hair's-breadth, of its original faultlessness of adjustment. The rock is +not to be moved now, either so easily or to so great an extent, as it +could once be moved. Six-and-twenty years since, it was overthrown by +artificial means; and was then lifted again into its former position. +This is the story of the affair, as it was related to me by a man who +was an eyewitness of the process of restoring the stone to its proper +place.</p> + +<p>In the year 1824, a certain Lieutenant in the Royal Navy, then in +command of a cutter stationed off the southern coast of Cornwall, was +told of an ancient Cornish prophecy, that no human power should ever +succeed in overturning the Loggan Stone. No sooner was the prediction +communicated to him, than he conceived a mischievous ambition to falsify +practically an assertion which the commonest common sense might have +informed him had sprung from nothing but popular error and popular +superstition. Accompanied by a body of picked men from his crew, he +ascended to the Loggan Stone, ordered several <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>levers to be placed under +it at one point, gave the word to "heave"—and the next moment had the +miserable satisfaction of seeing one of the most remarkable natural +curiosities in the world utterly destroyed, for aught he could foresee +to the contrary, under his own directions!</p> + +<p>But Fortune befriended the Loggan Stone. One edge of it, as it rolled +over, became fixed by a lucky chance in a crevice in the rocks +immediately below the granite slab from which it had been started. Had +this not happened, it must have fallen over a sheer precipice, and been +lost in the sea. By another accident, equally fortunate, two labouring +men at work in the neighbourhood, were led by curiosity secretly to +follow the Lieutenant and his myrmidons up to the Stone. Having +witnessed, from a secure hiding-place, all that occurred, the two +workmen, with great propriety, immediately hurried off to inform the +lord of the manor of the wanton act of destruction which they had seen +perpetrated.</p> + +<p>The news was soon communicated throughout the district, and thence, +throughout all Cornwall. The indignation of the whole county was +aroused. Antiquaries, who believed the Loggan Stone to have been +balanced by the Druids; philosophers who held <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>that it was produced by +an eccentricity of natural formation; ignorant people, who cared nothing +about Druids, or natural formations, but who liked to climb up and rock +the stone whenever they passed near it; tribes of guides who lived by +showing it; innkeepers in the neighbourhood, to whom it had brought +customers by hundreds; tourists of every degree who were on their way to +see it—all joined in one general clamour of execration against the +overthrower of the rock. A full report of the affair was forwarded to +the Admiralty; and the Admiralty, for once, acted vigorously for the +public advantage, and mercifully spared the public purse.</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant was officially informed that his commission was in +danger, unless he set up the Loggan Stone again in its proper place. The +materials for compassing this achievement were offered to him, <i>gratis</i>, +from the Dock Yards; but he was left to his own resources to defray the +expense of employing workmen to help him. Being by this time awakened to +a proper sense of the mischief he had done, and to a tolerably strong +conviction of the disagreeable position in which he was placed with the +Admiralty, he addressed himself vigorously to the task of repairing his +fault. Strong beams were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>planted about the Loggan Stone, chains were +passed round it, pulleys were rigged, and capstans were manned. After a +week's hard work and brave perseverance on the part of every one +employed in the labour, the rock was pulled back into its former +position, but not into its former perfection of balance: it has never +moved since as freely as it moved before.</p> + +<p>It is only fair to the Lieutenant to add to this narrative of his +mischievous frolic the fact, that he defrayed, though a poor man, all +the heavy expenses of replacing the rock. Just before his death, he paid +the last remaining debt, and paid it with interest.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Leaving the Loggan Stone, we next shaped our course for the Land's End. +We stopped on our way, to admire the desolate pile of rocks and caverns +which form the towering promontory, called "Tol-Peden-Penwith," or, "The +Holed Headland on the Left." Thence, turning a little inland—passing +over wild, pathless moors; occasionally catching distant glimpses of the +sea, with the mist sometimes falling thick down to the very edges of the +waves, sometimes parting mysteriously and discovering distant crags of +granite rising shadowy out of the foaming <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>waters,—we reached, at last, +the limits of our outward journey, and saw the Atlantic before us, +rolling against the westernmost extremity of the shores of England.</p> + +<p>I have already said, that the stranger must ask his way before he can +find out the particular mass of rocks, geographically entitled to the +appellation of the "Land's End." He may, however, easily discover when +he has reached the <i>district</i> of the "Land's End," by two rather +remarkable indications that he will meet with on his road. He will +observe, at some distance from the coast, an old milestone marked "I," +and will be informed that this is the real original first mile in +England; as if all measurement of distances began strictly from the +West! A little further on he will come to a house, on one wall of which +he will see written in large letters, "This is the first Inn in +England," and on the other: "This is the last Inn in England;" as if the +recognised beginning, and end too, of the Island of Britain were here, +and here only! Having pondered a little on the slightly exclusive view +of the attributes of their locality, taken by the inhabitants, he will +then be led forward, about half a mile, by his guide, will descend some +cliffs, will walk out on a ridge of rocks <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>till he can go no +farther—and will then be told that he is standing on the Land's End!</p> + +<p>Here, as elsewhere, there are certain "sights" which a stranger is +required to examine assiduously, as a duty if not as a pleasure, by +guide-book law, rigidly administered by guides. There is, first of all, +the mark of a horse's hoof, which is with great care kept <i>sharply +modelled</i> (to borrow the painter's phrase), in the thin grass at the +edge of a precipice. This mark commemorates the narrow escape from death +of a military man who, for a wager, rode a horse down the cliff to the +extreme verge of the Land's End; where the poor animal, seeing its +danger, turned in affright, reared, and fell back into the sea raging +over the rocks beneath. The foolhardy rider had just sense enough left +to throw himself off in time—he tumbled on the ground, within a few +inches of the precipice, and so barely saved the life which he had +richly deserved to lose.</p> + +<p>After the mark of the hoof, the traveller is next desired to look at a +natural tunnel in the outer cliff, which pierces it through from one end +to the other. Then his attention is directed to a lighthouse built on a +reef of rocks detached from the land; and he is told of the great waves +which break over the top of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>the building during the winter storms. +Lastly, he is requested to inspect a quaint protuberance in a pile of +granite at a little distance off, which bears a remote resemblance to a +gigantic human face, adorned with a short beard; and which, he is +informed, is considered quite a portrait (of all the people in the world +to liken it to!) of Dr. Johnson! It is, therefore, publicly known as +"Johnson's Head." If it can fairly be compared with any of the +countenances of any remarkable characters that ever existed, it may be +said to exhibit, in violent exaggeration, the worst physiognomical +peculiarities of Nero and Henry the Eighth, combined in one face!</p> + +<p>These several local curiosities duly examined, you are at last left free +to look at the Land's End in your own way. Before you, stretches the +wide, wild ocean; the largest of the Scilly Islands being barely +discernible on the extreme horizon, on clear days. Tracts of heath; +fields where corn is blown by the wind into mimic waves; downs, valleys, +and crags, mingle together picturesquely and confusedly, until they are +lost in the distance, on your left. On your right is a magnificent bay, +bounded at either extremity by far-stretching promontories rising from a +beach of the purest white sand, on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>which the yet whiter foam of the +surf is ever seething, as waves on waves break one behind the other. The +whole bold view possesses all the sublimity that vastness and space can +bestow; but it is that sublimity which is to be seen, not described, +which the heart may acknowledge and the mind contain, but which no mere +words may delineate—which even painting itself may but faintly reflect.</p> + +<p>However, it is, after all, the walk to the Land's End along the southern +coast, rather than the Land's End itself, which displays the grandest +combinations of scenery in which this grandest part of Cornwall abounds. +There, Nature appears in her most triumphant glory and beauty—there, +every mile as you proceed, offers some new prospect, or awakens some +fresh impression. All objects that you meet with, great and small, +moving and motionless, seem united in perfect harmony to form a scene +where original images might still be found by the poet; and where +original pictures are waiting, ready composed, for the painter's eye.</p> + +<p>On approaching the wondrous landscapes between Trereen and the Land's +End, the first characteristic that strikes you, is the change that has +taken place in the forms of the cliffs since you left the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>Lizard Head. +You no longer look on variously shaped and variously coloured +"serpentine" rocks; it is granite, and granite alone, that appears +everywhere—granite, less lofty and less eccentric in form than the +"serpentine" cliffs and crags; but presenting an appearance of +adamantine solidity and strength, a mighty breadth of outline and an +unbroken vastness of extent, nobly adapted to the purpose of protecting +the shores of Cornwall, where they are most exposed to the fury of the +Atlantic waves. In these wild districts, the sea rolls and roars in +fiercer agitation, and the mists fall thicker, and at the same time fade +and change faster, than elsewhere. Vessels pitching heavily in the +waves, are seen to dawn, at one moment, in the clearing atmosphere—and +then, at another, to fade again mysteriously, as it abruptly thickens, +like phantom ships. Up on the top of the cliffs, furze and heath in +brilliant clothing of purple and yellow, cluster close round great +white, weird masses of rock, dotted fantastically with patches of +grey-green moss. The solitude on these heights is unbroken—no houses +are to be seen—often, no pathway is to be found. You go on, guided by +the <i>sight</i> of the sea, when the sky brightens fitfully: and by the +<i>sound</i> of the sea, when you stray instinctively <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>from the edge of the +cliff, as mist and darkness gather once more densely and solemnly all +around you.</p> + +<p>Then, when the path appears again—a winding path, that descends +rapidly—you gradually enter on a new scene. Old horses startle you, +scrambling into perilous situations, to pick dainty bits by the +hillside; sheep, fettered by the fore and hind leg, hobble away +desperately as you advance. Suddenly, you discern a small strip of beach +shut in snugly between protecting rocks. A spring bubbles down from an +inland valley; while not far off, an old stone well collects the water +into a calm, clear pool. Sturdy little cottages, built of rough granite, +and thickly thatched, stand near you, with gulls' and cormorants' eggs +set in their loop-holed windows for ornament; great white sections of +fish hang thickly together on their walls to dry, looking more like many +legs of many dirty duck trousers, than anything else; pigsties are +hard-by the cottages, either formed by the Cromlech stones of the +Druids, or excavated like caves in the side of the hill. Down on the +beach, where the rough old fishing-boats lie, the sand is entirely +formed by countless multitudes of the tiniest, fairy-like shells, often +as small as a pin's head, and all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>exquisitely tender in colour and +wonderfully varied in form. Up the lower and flatter parts of the hills +above, fishing nets are stretched to dry. While you stop to look forth +over the quiet, simple scene, wild little children peep out at you in +astonishment; and hard-working men and women greet you with a hearty +Cornish salutation, as you pass near their cottage doors.</p> + +<p>You walk a few hundred yards inland, up the valley, and discover in a +retired, sheltered situation, the ancient village church, with its +square grey tower surmounted by moss-grown turrets, with its venerable +Saxon stone cross in the churchyard—where the turf graves rise humbly +by twos and threes, and where the old coffin-shaped stone stands midway +at the entrance gates, still used, as in former times, by the bearers of +a rustic funeral. Appearing thus amid the noblest scenery, as the simple +altar of the prayers of a simple race, this is a church which speaks of +religion in no formal or sectarian tone. Appealing to the heart of every +traveller be his creed what it may, in loving and solemn accents, it +sends him on his way again, up the mighty cliffs and through the mist +driving cloud-like over them, the better fitted for his journey forward +here; the better fitted, it may be, even for that other <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>dread journey +of one irrevocable moment—the last he shall ever take—to his +abiding-place among the spirits of the dead!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>These are some of the attractions which home rambles can offer to tempt +the home traveller; for these are the impressions produced, and the +incidents presented during a walk to the Land's End.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="IX" id="IX"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>IX.</h2> + +<h2>BOTALLACK MINE.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>I have little doubt that the less patient among the readers of this +narrative have already, while perusing it, asked themselves some such +questions as these:—"Is not Cornwall a celebrated mineral country? Why +has the author not taken us below the surface yet? Why have we heard +nothing all this time about the mines?"</p> + +<p>Readers who have questioned thus, may be assured that their impatience +to go down a mine, in this book, was fully equalled by our impatience to +go down a mine, in the county of which this book treats. Our anxiety, +however, when we mentioned it to Cornish friends, was invariably met by +the same answer. "Wait"—they all said—"until you have turned your +backs on the Land's End; and then go to Botallack. The mine there is the +most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>extraordinary mine in Cornwall; go down that, and you will not +want to go down another—wait for Botallack." And we did wait for +Botallack, just as the reader has waited for it in these pages. May he +derive as much satisfaction from the present description of the mine, as +we did from visiting the mine itself!</p> + +<p>We left the Land's End, feeling that our homeward journey had now begun +from that point; and walking northward, about five miles along the +coast, arrived at Botallack. Having heard that there was some +disinclination in Cornwall to allow strangers to go down the mines, we +had provided ourselves—through the kindness of a friend—with a proper +letter of introduction, in case of emergency. We were told to go to the +counting-house to present our credentials; and on our road thither, we +beheld the buildings and machinery of the mine, literally stretching +down the precipitous face of the cliff, from the land at the top, to the +sea at the bottom.</p> + +<p>This sight was, in its way, as striking and extraordinary as the first +view of the Cheese-Wring itself. Here, we beheld a scaffolding perched +on a rock that rose out of the waves—there, a steam-pump was at work +raising gallons of water from the mine every minute, on a mere ledge of +land half way down the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>steep cliff side. Chains, pipes, conduits, +protruded in all directions from the precipice; rotten-looking wooden +platforms, running over deep chasms, supported great beams of timber and +heavy coils of cable; crazy little boarded houses were built, where +gulls' nests might have been found in other places. There did not appear +to be a foot of level space anywhere, for any part of the works of the +mine to stand upon; and yet, there they were, fulfilling all the +purposes for which they had been constructed, as safely and completely +on rocks in the sea, and down precipices in the land, as if they had +been cautiously founded on the tracts of smooth solid ground above!</p> + +<p>The counting-house was built on a projection of earth about midway +between the top of the cliff and the sea. When we got there, the agent, +to whom our letter was addressed, was absent; but his place was supplied +by two miners who came out to receive us; and to one of them we +mentioned our recommendation, and modestly hinted a wish to go down the +mine forthwith.</p> + +<p>But our new friend was not a person who did anything in a hurry. He was +a grave, courteous, and rather melancholy man, of great stature and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>strength. He looked on us with a benevolent, paternal expression, and +appeared to think that we were nothing like strong enough, or cautious +enough to be trusted down the mine. "Did we know," he urged, "that it +was dangerous work?" "Yes; but we didn't mind danger!"—"Perhaps we were +not aware that we should perspire profusely, and be dead tired getting +up and down the ladders?" "Very likely; but we didn't mind that, +either!"—"Surely we shouldn't like to strip and put on miners' +clothes?" "Yes, we should, of all things!" and pulling off coat and +waistcoat, on the spot, we stood half-undressed already, just as the big +miner was proposing another objection, which, under existing +circumstances, he good-naturedly changed into a speech of acquiescence. +"Very well, gentlemen," he said, taking up two suits of miners' clothes, +"I see you are determined to go down; and so you shall! You'll be wet +through with the heat and the work before you come up again; so just put +on these things, and keep your own clothes dry."</p> + +<p>The clothing consisted of a flannel shirt, flannel drawers, canvas +trousers, and a canvas jacket—all stained of a tawny copper colour; but +all quite clean. A white night-cap and a round hat, composed of some +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>iron-hard substance, well calculated to protect the head from any loose +stones that might fall on it, completed the equipment; to which, three +tallow-candles were afterwards added, two to hang at the buttonhole, one +to carry in the hand.</p> + +<p>My friend was dressed first. He had got a suit which fitted him +tolerably, and which, as far as appearances went, made a miner of him at +once. Far different was my case.</p> + +<p>The same mysterious dispensation of fate, which always awards tall wives +to short men, decreed that a suit of the big miner's should be reserved +for me. He stood six feet two inches—I stand five feet six inches. I +put on his flannel shirt—it fell down to my toes, like a bedgown; his +drawers—and they flowed in Turkish luxuriance over my feet. At his +trousers I helplessly stopped short, lost in the voluminous recesses of +each leg. The big miner, like a good Samaritan as he was, came to my +assistance. He put the pocket button through the waist buttonhole, to +keep the trousers up in the first instance; then, he pulled steadily at +the braces until my waistband was under my armpits; and then he +pronounced that I and my trousers fitted each other in great perfection. +The cuffs of the jacket were next turned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>up to my elbows—the white +night-cap was dragged over my ears—the round hat was jammed down over +my eyes. When I add to all this, that I am so nearsighted as to be +obliged to wear spectacles, and that I finished my toilet by putting my +spectacles on (knowing that I should see little or nothing without +them), nobody, I think, will be astonished to hear that my companion +seized his sketch-book, and caricatured me on the spot; and that the +grave miner, polite as he was, shook with internal laughter, when I took +up my tallow-candles and reported myself ready for a descent into the +mine.</p> + +<p>We left the counting-house, and ascended the face of the cliff—then, +walked a short distance along the edge, descended a little again, and +stopped at a wooden platform built across a deep gully. Here, the miner +pulled up a trap-door, and disclosed a perpendicular ladder leading down +to a black hole, like the opening of a chimney. "This is the shaft; I +will go down first, to catch you in case you tumble; follow me and hold +tight;" saying this, our friend squeezed himself through the trap-door, +and we went after him as we had been bidden.</p> + +<p>The black hole, when we entered it, proved to be not quite so dark as it +had appeared from above. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>Rays of light occasionally penetrated it +through chinks in the outer rock. But by the time we had got some little +way farther down, these rays began to fade. Then, just as we seemed to +be lowering ourselves into total darkness, we were desired to stand on a +narrow landing-place opposite the ladder, and wait there while the miner +went below for a light. He soon reascended to us, bringing, not only the +light he had promised, but a large lump of damp clay with it. Having +lighted our candles he stuck them against the front of our hats with the +clay—in order, as he said, to leave both our hands free to us to use as +we liked. Thus strangely accoutred, like Solomon Eagles in the Great +Plague, with flame on our heads, we resumed the descent of the shaft; +and now at last began to penetrate beneath the surface of the earth in +good earnest.</p> + +<p>The process of getting down the ladders was not very pleasant. They were +all quite perpendicular, the rounds were placed at irregular distances, +were many of them much worn away, and were slippery with water and +copper-ooze. Add to this, the narrowness of the shaft, the dripping wet +rock shutting you in, as it were, all round your back and sides against +the ladder—the fathomless darkness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>beneath—the light flaring +immediately above you, as if your head was on fire—the voice of the +miner below, rumbling away in dull echoes lower and lower into the +bowels of the earth—the consciousness that if the rounds of the ladder +broke, you might fall down a thousand feet or so of narrow tunnel in a +moment—imagine all this, and you may easily realize what are the first +impressions produced by a descent into a Cornish mine.</p> + +<p>By the time we had got down seventy fathoms, or four hundred and twenty +feet of perpendicular ladders, we stopped at another landing-place, just +broad enough to afford standing room for us three. Here, the miner, +pointing to an opening yawning horizontally in the rock at one side of +us, said that this was the first gallery from the surface; that we had +done with the ladders for the present; and that a little climbing and +crawling were now to begin.</p> + +<p>Our path was a strange one, as we advanced through the rift. Rough +stones of all sizes, holes here, and eminences there, impeded us at +every yard. Sometimes, we could walk on in a stooping position—sometimes, +we were obliged to crawl on our hands and knees. Occasionally, greater +difficulties than these presented themselves. Certain parts of the +gallery <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>dipped into black, ugly-looking pits, crossed by thin planks, +over which we walked dizzily, a little bewildered by the violent contrast +between the flaring light that we carried above us, and the pitch darkness +beneath and before us. One of these places terminated in a sudden rising +in the rock, hollowed away below, but surmounted by a narrow projecting +wooden platform, to which it was necessary to climb by cross-beams +arranged at wide distances. My companion ascended to this awkward +elevation, without hesitating; but I came to an "awful pause" before it. +Fettered as I was by my Brobdingnag jacket and trousers, I felt a +humiliating consciousness that any extraordinary gymnastic exertion was +altogether out of my power.</p> + +<p>Our friend the miner saw my difficulty, and extricated me from it at +once, with a promptitude and skill which deserve record. Descending half +way by the beams, he clutched with one hand that hinder part of my too +voluminous nether garments, which presented the broadest superficies of +canvas to his grasp (I hope the delicate reader appreciates my ingenious +indirectness of expression, when I touch on the unmentionable subject of +trousers!). Grappling me thus, and supporting himself by his free <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>hand, +he lifted me up as easily as if I had been a small parcel; then carried +me horizontally along the loose boards, like a refractory little boy +borne off by the usher to the master's birch; or—considering the candle +burning on my hat, and the necessity of elevating my position by as +lofty a comparison as I can make—like a flying Mercury with a star on +his head; and finally deposited me safely upon my legs again, on the +firm rock pathway beyond. "You are but a light and a little man, my +son," says this excellent fellow, snuffing my candle for me before we go +on; "only let me lift you about as I like, and you shan't come to any +harm while I am with you!"</p> + +<p>Speaking thus, the miner leads us forward again. After we have walked a +little farther in a crouching position, he calls a halt, makes a seat +for us by sticking a piece of old board between the rocky walls of the +gallery, and then proceeds to explain the exact subterranean position +which we actually occupy.</p> + +<p>We are now four hundred yards out, <i>under the bottom of the sea</i>; and +twenty fathoms or a hundred and twenty feet below the sea level. +Coast-trade vessels are sailing over our heads. Two hundred and forty +feet beneath us men are at work, and there are galleries deeper yet, +even below that! The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>extraordinary position down the face of the cliff, +of the engines and other works on the surface, at Botallack, is now +explained. The mine is not excavated like other mines under the land, +but under the sea!</p> + +<p>Having communicated these particulars, the miner next tells us to keep +strict silence and listen. We obey him, sitting speechless and +motionless. If the reader could only have beheld us now, dressed in our +copper-coloured garments, huddled close together in a mere cleft of +subterranean rock, with flame burning on our heads and darkness +enveloping our limbs—he must certainly have imagined, without any +violent stretch of fancy, that he was looking down upon a conclave of +gnomes.</p> + +<p>After listening for a few moments, a distant, unearthly noise becomes +faintly audible—a long, low, mysterious moaning, which never changes, +which is <i>felt</i> on the ear as well as <i>heard</i> by it—a sound that might +proceed from some incalculable distance, from some far invisible +height—a sound so unlike anything that is heard on the upper ground, in +the free air of heaven; so sublimely mournful and still; so ghostly and +impressive when listened to in the subterranean recesses of the earth, +that we continue <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>instinctively to hold our peace, as if enchanted by +it, and think not of communicating to each other the awe and +astonishment which it has inspired in us from the very first.</p> + +<p>At last, the miner speaks again, and tells us that what we hear is the +sound of the surf, lashing the rocks a hundred and twenty feet above us, +and of the waves that are breaking on the beach beyond. The tide is now +at the flow, and the sea is in no extraordinary state of agitation: so +the sound is low and distant just at this period. But, when storms are +at their height, when the ocean hurls mountain after mountain of water +on the cliffs, then the noise is terrific; the roaring heard down here +in the mine is so inexpressibly fierce and awful, that the boldest men +at work are afraid to continue their labour. All ascend to the surface, +to breathe the upper air and stand on the firm earth: dreading, though +no such catastrophe has ever happened yet, that the sea will break in on +them if they remain in the caverns below.</p> + +<p>Hearing this, we get up to look at the rock above us. We are able to +stand upright in the position we now occupy; and flaring our candles +hither and thither in the darkness, can see the bright pure <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>copper +streaking the dark ceiling of the gallery in every direction. Lumps of +ooze, of the most lustrous green colour, traversed by a natural network +of thin red veins of iron, appear here and there in large irregular +patches, over which water is dripping slowly and incessantly in certain +places. This is the salt water percolating through invisible crannies in +the rock. On stormy days it spirts out furiously in thin, continuous +streams. Just over our heads we observe a wooden plug of the thickness +of a man's leg; there is a hole here, and the plug is all that we have +to keep out the sea.</p> + +<p>Immense wealth of metal is contained in the roof of this gallery, +throughout its whole length; but it remains, and will always remain, +untouched. The miners dare not take it, for it is part, and a great +part, of the rock which forms their only protection against the sea; and +which has been so far worked away here, that its thickness is limited to +an average of three feet only between the water and the gallery in which +we now stand. No one knows what might be the consequence of another +day's labour with the pickaxe on any part of it.</p> + +<p>This information is rather startling when communicated at a depth of +four hundred and twenty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>feet under ground. We should decidedly have +preferred to receive it in the counting-house! It makes us pause for an +instant, to the miner's infinite amusement, in the very act of knocking +away a tiny morsel of ore from the rock, as a memento of Botallack. +Having, however, ventured on reflection to assume the responsibility of +weakening our defence against the sea, by the length and breadth of an +inch, we secure our piece of copper, and next proceed to discuss the +propriety of descending two hundred and forty feet more of ladders, for +the sake of visiting that part of the mine where the men are at work.</p> + +<p>Two or three causes concur to make us doubt the wisdom of going lower. +There is a hot, moist, sickly vapour floating about us, which becomes +more oppressive every moment; we are already perspiring at every pore, +as we were told we should; and our hands, faces, jackets, and trousers +are all more or less covered with a mixture of mud, tallow, and +iron-drippings, which we can feel and smell much more acutely than is +exactly desirable. We ask the miner what there is to see lower down. He +replies, nothing but men breaking ore with pickaxes; the galleries of +the mine are alike, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>however deep they may go; when you have seen one +you have seen all.</p> + +<p>The answer decides us—we determine to get back to the surface.</p> + +<p>We returned along the gallery, just as we had advanced, with the same +large allowance of scrambling, creeping, and stumbling on our way. I was +charitably carried along and down the platform over the pit, by my +trousers, as before; our order of procession only changing when we +gained the ladders again. Then, our friend the miner went last instead +of first, upon the same principle of being ready to catch us if we fell, +which led him to precede us on our descent. Except that one of the +rounds cracked under his weight as we went up, we ascended without +casualties of any kind. As we neared the mouth of the shaft, the +daylight atmosphere looked dazzlingly white, after the darkness in which +we had been groping so long; and when we once more stood out on the +cliff, we felt a cold, health-giving purity in the sea breeze, and, at +the same time, a sense of recovered freedom in the power that we now +enjoyed of running, jumping, and stretching our limbs in perfect +security, and with full space for action, which it was almost a new +sensation to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>experience. Habit teaches us to think little of the light +and air that we live and breathe in, or, at most, to view them only as +the ordinary conditions of our being. To find out that they are more +than this, that they are a luxury as well as a necessity of life, go +down into a mine, and compare what you <i>can</i> exist in there, with what +you <i>do</i> exist in, on upper earth!</p> + +<p>On re-entering the counting-house, we were greeted by the welcome +appearance of two large tubs of water, with soap and flannel placed +invitingly by their sides. Copious ablutions and clean clothes are +potent restorers of muscular energy. These, and a half hour of repose, +enabled us to resume our knapsacks as briskly as ever, and walk on +fifteen miles to the town of St. Ives—our resting place for the night.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>While we were sitting in the counting-house, we had some talk with our +good-humoured and intelligent guide, on the subject of miners and mining +at Botallack. Some of the local information that he gave us, may +interest the reader—to whom I do not pretend to offer more here than a +simple record of a half hour's gossip. I could only write elaborately +about the Cornish mines, by swelling my pages with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>extracts on the +subject from Encyclopædias and Itineraries which are within easy reach +of every one, and on the province of which, it is neither my business +nor my desire to intrude.</p> + +<p>Botallack mine is a copper mine; but tin, and occasionally iron, are +found in it as well. It is situated at the western extremity of the +great strata of copper, tin, and lead, running eastward through +Cornwall, as far as the Dartmoor Hills. According to the statement of my +informant in the counting-house, it has been worked for more than a +century. In former times, it produced enormous profits to the +speculators; but now the case is altered. The price of copper has fallen +of late years; the lodes have proved neither so rich nor so extensive, +as at past periods; and the mine, when we visited Cornwall, had failed +to pay the expenses of working it.</p> + +<p>The organization of labour at Botallack, and in all other mines +throughout the county, is thus managed:—The men work eight hours +underground, out of the twenty-four; taking their turn of night duty +(for labour proceeds in the mines by night as well as by day), in +regular rotation. The different methods on which their work is +undertaken, and the rates of remuneration that they receive, have been +already <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>touched on, in the chapter on the "Cornish People." It will be +found that ordinary wages for mine labour, are there stated as ranging +from forty to fifty shillings a month—mention being made at the same +time, of the larger remuneration which may be obtained by working "on +tribute," or, in other words, by agreeing to excavate the lodes of metal +for a per-centage which varies with the varying value of the mineral +raised. It is, however, necessary to add here, that, although men who +labour on this latter plan, occasionally make as much as six or ten +pounds each, in a month, they are on the other hand liable to heavy +losses from the speculative character of the work in which they engage. +The lode may, for instance, be poor when they begin to work it, and may +continue poor as they proceed farther and farther. Under these +circumstances, the low value of the mineral they have raised, realizes a +correspondingly low rate of per-centage; and when this happens, the best +workmen cannot make more than twenty shillings a month.</p> + +<p>Another system on which the men are employed, is the system of +"contract." A certain quantity of ore in the rock is mapped out by the +captain of the mine; and put up to auction among the miners <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>thus:—One +man mentions a sum for which he is willing to undertake excavating the +ore, upon the understanding that he is himself to pay for the +assistance, candles, &c., out of the price he asks. Another man, who is +also anxious to get the contract, then offers to accept it on lower +terms; a third man's demand is smaller still; and so they proceed until +the piece of work is knocked down to the lowest bidder. By this sort of +labour the contracting workman—after he has paid his expenses for +assistance—seldom clears more than twelve shillings a week.</p> + +<p>Upon the whole, setting his successful and his disastrous speculations +fairly against each other, the Cornish miner's average gains, year by +year, may be fairly estimated at about ten shillings a week. "It's hard +work we have to do, sir," said my informant, summing up, when we parted, +the proportions of good and evil in the social positions of his brethren +and himself—"harder work than people think, down in the heat and +darkness under ground. We may get a good deal at one time, but we get +little enough at another; sometimes mines are shut up, and then we are +thrown out altogether—but, good work or bad work, or no work at all, +what with our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>bits of ground for potatoes and greens, and what with +cheap living, somehow we and our families make it do. We contrive to +keep our good cloth coat for Sundays, and go to chapel in the +morning—for we're most of us Wesleyans—and then to church in the +afternoon; so as to give 'em both their turn like! We never go near the +mine on Sundays, except to look after the steam-pump: our rest, and our +walk in the evening once a week, is a good deal to us. That's how we +live, sir; whatever happens, we manage to work through, and don't +complain!"</p> + +<p>Although the occupation of smelting the copper above ground is, as may +well be imagined, unhealthy enough, the labour of getting it from the +mine (by blasting the subterranean rock in the first place, and then +hewing and breaking the ore out of the fragments), seems to be attended +with no bad effect on the constitution. The miners are a fine-looking +race of men—strong and well-proportioned. The fact appears to be, that +they gain more, physically, by the pure air of the cliffs and moors on +which their cottages are built, and the temperance of their lives (many +of them are "teetotallers"), than they lose by their hardest exertions +in the underground atmosphere in which they work.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>Serious accidents are rare in the mines of Cornwall. From the horrors of +such explosions as take place in coal mines, they are by their nature +entirely free. The casualties that oftenest occur are serious falls, +generally produced by the carelessness of inexperienced or foolhardy +people. Of these, and of extraordinary escapes from death with which +they are associated, many anecdotes are told in mining districts, which +would appear to the reader exaggerated, or positively untrue, if I +related them on mere hearsay evidence. There was, however, one instance +of a fall down the shaft of a mine, unattended with fatal consequences, +which occurred while I was in Cornwall; and which I may safely adduce, +for I can state some of the facts connected with the affair as an +eyewitness. I attended an examination of the sufferer by a medical man, +and heard the story of the accident from the parents of the patient.</p> + +<p>On the 7th of August 1850, a boy fourteen years of age, the son of a +miner, slipped into the shaft of Boscaswell Down Mine, in the +neighbourhood of Penzance. He fell to the depth of thirteen fathoms, or +seventy-eight feet. Fifty-eight feet down, he struck his left side +against a board placed across the shaft, snapped it in two, and then +falling twenty feet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>more, pitched on his head. He was of course taken +up insensible; the doctor was sent for; and on examining him, found, to +his amazement, that there was actually a chance of the boy's recovery +after this tremendous fall!</p> + +<p>Not a bone in his body was broken. He was bruised and scratched all +over, and there were three cuts—none of them serious—on his head. The +board stretched across the shaft, twenty feet from the bottom, had saved +him from being dashed to pieces; but had inflicted at the same time, +where his left side had struck it, the only injury that appeared +dangerous to the medical man—a large, hard lump that could be felt +under the bruised skin. The boy showed no symptoms of fever; his pulse, +day after day, was found never varying from eighty-two to the minute; +his appetite was voracious; and the internal functions of his body only +required a little ordinary medicine to keep them properly at work. In +short, nothing was to be dreaded but the chance of the formation of an +abscess in his left side, between the hip and ribs. He had been under +medical care exactly one week, when I accompanied the doctor on a visit +to him.</p> + +<p>The cottage where he lived with his parents, though small, was neat and +comfortable. We found <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>him lying in bed, awake. He looked languid and +lethargic; but his skin was moist and cool; his face displayed no +paleness, and no injury of any kind. He had just eaten a good dinner of +rabbit-pie, and was anxious to be allowed to sit up in a chair, and +amuse himself by looking out of the window. His left side was first +examined. A great circular bruise discoloured the skin, over the whole +space between the hip and ribs; but on touching it, the doctor +discovered that the lump beneath had considerably decreased in size, and +was much less hard than it had felt during previous visits. Next we +looked at his back and arms—they were scratched and bruised all over; +but nowhere seriously. Lastly, the dressings were taken off his head, +and three cuts were disclosed, which even a non-medical eye could easily +perceive to be of no great importance. Such were all the results of a +fall of seventy-eight feet.</p> + +<p>The boy's father reiterated to me the account of the accident, just as I +had already heard it from the doctor. How it happened, he said, could +only be guessed, for his son had completely forgotten all the +circumstances immediately preceding the fall; neither could he +communicate any of the sensations which must have attended it. Most +probably, he had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>sitting dangling his legs idly over the mouth of +the shaft, and had so slipped in. But however the accident really +happened, there the sufferer was before us—less seriously hurt than +many a lad who has trodden on a piece of orange peel as he was walking +along the street.</p> + +<p>We left him (humanly speaking) certain of recovery, now that the +dangerous lump in his side had begun to decrease. I heard afterwards +from his medical attendant, that in two months from the date of the +accident, he was at work again as usual in the mine; at that very part +of it, too, where his fall had taken place!</p> + +<p>It was not the least interesting part of my visit to the cottage where +he lay ill, to observe the anxious affection displayed towards him by +both his parents. His mother left her work in the kitchen to hold him in +her arms, while the old dressings were being taken off and the new ones +applied—sighing bitterly, poor creature, every time he winced or cried +out under the pain of the operation. The father put several questions to +the doctor, which were always perfectly to the point; and did the +honours of his little abode to his stranger visitor, with a natural +politeness and a simple cordiality of manner which showed that he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>really meant the welcome that he spoke. Nor was he any exception to the +rest of his brother-workmen with whom I met. As a body of men, they are +industrious and intelligent; sober and orderly; neither soured by hard +work, nor easily depressed by harder privations. No description of +personal experiences in the Cornish mines can be fairly concluded, +without a collateral testimony to the merits of the Cornish miners—a +testimony which I am happy to accord here; and to which my readers would +cheerfully add their voices, if they ever felt inclined to test its +impartiality by their own experience.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="X" id="X"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>X.</h2> + +<h2>THE MODERN DRAMA IN CORNWALL.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Our walk from Botallack Mine to St. Ives, led us almost invariably +between moors and hills on one side, and cliffs and sea on the other; +and displayed some of the dreariest views that we had yet beheld in +Cornwall. About nightfall, we halted for a short time at a place which +was certainly not calculated to cheer the traveller along his onward +way.</p> + +<p>Imagine three or four large, square, comfortless-looking, shut-up +houses, all apparently uninhabited; add some half-dozen miserable little +cottages standing near the houses, with the nasal notes of a Methodist +hymn pouring disastrously through the open door of one of them; let the +largest of the large buildings be called an inn, but let it make up no +beds, because nobody ever stops to sleep there: place in the kitchen <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>of +this inn a sickly little girl, and a middle-aged, melancholy woman, the +first staring despondently on a wasting fire, the second offering to the +stranger a piece of bread, three eggs, and some sour porter corked down +in an earthenware jar, as all that her larder and cellar can afford; +fancy next an old, grim, dark church, with two or three lads leaning +against the churchyard wall, looking out together in gloomy silence on a +solitary high road; conceive a thin, slow rain falling, a cold twilight +just changing into darkness, a surrounding landscape wild, barren, and +shelterless—imagine all this, and you will have the picture before you +which presented itself to me and my companion, when we found ourselves +in the village of Morvah.</p> + +<p>Late that night, we got to the large sea-port town of St. Ives; and +stayed there two or three days to look at the pilchard fishery, which +was then proceeding with all the bustle and activity denoting the +commencement of a good season. Leaving St. Ives, on our way up the +northern coast, we now passed through the central part of the mining +districts of Cornwall. Chimneys and engine-houses chequered the surface +of the landscape; the roads glittered with metallic particles; the walls +at their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>sides were built with crystallized stones; towns showed a +sudden increase in importance; villages grew large and populous; inns +disappeared, and hotels arose in their stead; people became less curious +to know who we were, stared at us less, gossiped with us less; gave us +information, but gave us nothing more—no long stories, no invitations +to stop and smoke a pipe, no hospitable offers of bed and board. All +that we saw and heard tended to convince us that we had left the +picturesque and the primitive, with the streets of Looe and the +fishermen at the Land's End; and had got into the commercial part of the +county, among sharp, prosperous, business like people—it was like +walking out of a painter's studio into a merchant's counting-house!</p> + +<p>As we were travelling, like the renowned Doctor Syntax, in search of the +picturesque, we hurried through this populous and highly-civilized +region of Cornwall as rapidly as possible. I doubt much whether we +should not have passed as unceremoniously through the large town of +Redruth—the capital city of the mining districts—as we passed through +several towns and villages before it, had not our attention been +attracted and our departure delayed by a public notice, printed on +rainbow-coloured paper, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>and pasted up in the most conspicuous part of +the market-place.</p> + +<p>The notice set forth, that "the beautiful drama of The Curate's +Daughter" was to be performed at night, in the "unrivalled Sans Pareil +Theatre," by "the most talented company in England," before "the most +discerning audience in the world." As far as we were individually +concerned, this theatrical announcement was remarkably tempting and +well-timed. We were now within one day's journey of Piran Round, the +famous amphitheatre where the old Cornish Miracle Plays used to be +performed. Anything connected with the stage was, therefore, a subject +of particular interest in our eyes. The bill before us seemed to offer a +curious opportunity of studying the dramatic tastes of the modern +Cornish, on the very day before we were about to speculate on the +dramatic tastes of the ancient Cornish, among the remains of their +public theatre. Such an occasion was too favourable to be neglected; we +ordered our beds at Redruth, and joined the "discerning audience" +assembled to sit in judgment on "The Curate's Daughter."</p> + +<p>The Sans Pareil Theatre was not of that order of architecture in which +outward ornament is studied. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>There was nothing "florid" about it; +canvas, ropes, scaffolding-poles, and old boards, threw an air of Saxon +simplicity over the whole structure. Admitted within, we turned +instinctively towards the stage. On each side of the proscenium boards +was painted a knight in full armour, with powerful calves, weak knees, +and an immense spear. Tallow candles, stuck round two hoops, threw a +mysterious light on the green curtain, in front of which sat an +orchestra of four musicians, playing on a trombone, an ophicleide, a +clarionet, and a fiddle, as loudly as they could—the artist on the +trombone, especially, performing prodigies of blowing, though he had not +room enough to develop the whole length of his instrument. Every now and +then great excitement was created among the expectant audience by the +vehement ringing of a bell behind the scenes, and by the occasional +appearance of a youth who gravely snuffed the candles all round, with a +skill and composure highly creditable to him, considering the +pertinacity with which he was stared at by everybody while he pursued +his occupation.</p> + +<p>At last, the bell was rung furiously for the twentieth time; the curtain +drew up, and the drama of "The Curate's Daughter" began.</p> + +<p>Our sympathies were excited at the outset. We <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>beheld a lady-like woman +who answered to the name of "Grace;" and an old gentleman, dressed in +dingy black, who personated her father, the Curate; and who was, on this +occasion (I presume through unavoidable circumstances), neither more nor +less than—drunk. There was no mistaking the cause of the fixed leer in +the reverend gentleman's eye; of the slow swaying in his gait; of the +gruff huskiness in his elocution. It appeared, from the opening +dialogue, that a pending law-suit, and the absence of his daughter Fanny +in London, combined to make him uneasy in his mind just at present. But +he was by no means so clear on this subject as could be desired—in +fact, he spoke through his nose, put in and left out his <i>hs</i> in the +wrong places, and involved his dialogue in a long labyrinth of +parentheses whenever he expressed himself at any length. It was not +until the entrance of his daughter Fanny (just arrived from London: +nobody knew why or wherefore), that he grew more emphatic and +intelligible. We now observed with pleasure that he gave his children +his blessing and embraced them both at once; and we were additionally +gratified by hearing from his own lips, that his "daughters were the +h'all on which his h'all depended—that they would watch <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>h'over his +'ale autumn; and that whatever happened the whole party must invariably +trust in heabben's obdipotent power!"</p> + +<p>Grateful for this clerical advice, Fanny retired into the garden to +gather her parent some flowers; but immediately returned shrieking. She +was followed by a Highwayman with a cocked hat, mustachios, bandit's +ringlets, a scarlet hunting-coat, and buff boots. This gentleman had +shown his extraordinary politeness—although a perfect stranger—by +giving Miss Fanny a kiss in the garden; conduct for which the Curate +very properly cursed him, in the strongest language. Apparently a quiet +and orderly character, the Highwayman replied by beginning a handsome +apology, when he was interrupted by the abrupt entrance of another +personage, who ordered him (rather late in the day, as we ventured to +think) to "let go his holt, and beware how he laid his brutal touch on +the form of innocence!" This newcomer, the parson informed us, was "good +h'Adam Marle, the teacher of the village school." We found "h'Adam," in +respect of his outward appearance, to be a very short man, dressed in a +high-crowned modern hat, with a fringed vandyck collar drooping over his +back and shoulders, a modern frock-coat, buttoned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>tight at the waist, +and a pair of jack-boots of the period of James the Second. Aided by his +advantages of costume, this character naturally interested us; and we +regretted seeing but little of him in the first scene, from which he +retired, following the penitent Highwayman out, and lecturing him as he +went. No sooner were their backs turned, than a waggoner, in a clean +smock-frock and high-lows, entered with an offer of a situation in +London for Fanny, which the unsuspicious Curate accepted immediately. As +soon as he had committed himself, it was confided to the audience that +the waggoner was a depraved villain, in the employ of that notorious +profligate, Colonel Chartress, who had commissioned a second myrmidon +(of the female sex) to lure Fanny from virtue and the country, to vice +and the metropolis. By the time the plot had "thickened" thus far, the +scene changed, and we got to London at once.</p> + +<p>We now beheld the Curate, Chartress's female accomplice, Fanny, and the +vicious waggoner, all standing in a row, across the stage. The Curate, +in a burst of amiability, had just lifted up his hands to bless the +company, when Colonel Chartress (dressed in an old <i>naval</i> uniform, with +an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>opera-hat of the year 1800), suddenly rushed in, followed by the +Highwayman, who having relapsed from penitence to guilt, had, as a +necessary consequence, determined to supplant Chartress in the favour of +Miss Fanny. These two promptly seized each other by the throat; vehement +shouting, scuffling, and screaming ensued; and the Curate, clasping his +daughter round the waist, frantically elevated his walking-stick in the +air. Was he about to inflict personal chastisement on his innocent +child? Who could say? Before there was time to ask the question, the +curtain fell with a bang, on the crisis of the first act.</p> + +<p>In act the second, the first scene was described in the bills as Temple +Bar by moonlight. Neither Bar nor moonlight appeared when the curtain +rose—so we took both for granted, and fixed our minds on the story. The +first person who now confronted us, was "good h'Adam Marle." The paint +was all washed off his face; his immense spread of collar looked +grievously in want of washing; and he leaned languidly on an oaken +stick. He had been walking—he informed us—through the streets of +London for six consecutive days and nights, without sustenance, in +search of Miss Fanny, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>who had disappeared since the skirmish at the end +of act the first, and had never been heard of since. Poor dear Marle! +how eloquent he was with his white handkerchief, when he fairly opened +his heart, and confided to us that he was madly attached to Fanny; that +he knew he "was nothink" to her; and that, under existing circumstances, +he felt inclined to rest himself on a door step! Just as he had +comfortably settled down, the valet of the profligate Chartress entered, +in the communicative stage of intoxication; and immediately mentioned +all his master's private affairs to "h'Adam." It appeared that the +Colonel had carried off Miss Fanny, had then got tired of her, and had +coolly handed her over to a Jew, in part payment of "a little bill." +Having ascertained the Jew's address, the indefatigable Marle left us +(still without sustenance) to rescue the Curate's daughter, or die in +the attempt.</p> + +<p>The next scene disclosed Fanny, sitting conscience-stricken and +inconsolable, in a red polka jacket and white muslin slip. Mr. Marle, +having discovered her place of refuge, now stepped in to lecture and +reclaim. Vain proceeding! The Curate's daughter looked at him with a +scream, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>exclaimed, "Cuss me, h'Adam! cuss me!" and rushed out. +"H'Adam," after a despondent soliloquy, followed with his eloquent +handkerchief to his eyes; but, while he had been talking to himself, our +old friend the Highwayman had been on the alert, and had picked Fanny +up, fainting in the street. And what did he do with her after that? He +handed her over to his "comrades in villany." And who were his comrades +in villany? They were the trombone and ophicleide players from the +orchestra, and the "Miss Grace," of act first, disguised as a bad +character, in a cloak, with a red pocket-handkerchief over her head. And +what happened next? A series of events happened next. Miss Fanny +recovered on a sudden, perceived what sort of company she had about her, +rushed out a second time into the street, fell fainting a second time on +the pavement, and was picked up on this occasion by Colonel +Chartress—in the interests, it is to be presumed, of his friend, the +Jew money-lender. Before, however, he could get clear off with his +prize, the indefatigably vicious Highwayman, and the indefatigably +virtuous Marle, precipitated themselves on the stage, assaulting +Chartress, assaulting each other, assaulting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>everybody. Fanny fell +fainting a third time in the street; and before we could find out who +was the third person who picked her up, down came the curtain in the +midst of the catastrophe.</p> + +<p>Act the third was opened by the heroine, still injured, still +inconsolable, and still clad in the polka jacket and white slip. We +thought her a very nice little woman, with a melodious, +genteel-comedy-voice, trim ankles, and a habit of catching her breath in +the most pathetic manner, at least a dozen times in the course of one +soliloquy. While she was still assuring us that she felt the most +forlorn creature on the face of the earth, she was suddenly interrupted +by the entrance of no less a person than the Curate himself. We had seen +nothing of the reverend gentleman throughout the second act; but +"h'Adam" had casually informed us that his time had been passed at his +parsonage, "sittun with his 'ed between his knees, sobbun!" Having now +wearied of this gymnastic method of indulging in parental grief, he had +set forth to seek his lost daughter, and had accidentally stopped at the +very inn where she had taken refuge. Nothing could be more piteous than +his present appearance; he was infinitely more tipsy, infinitely more +dignified, and infinitely more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>parenthetical in his mode of expressing +himself, than when we last beheld him. A streak of burnt cork running +down each side of his venerable nose, showed us how deeply grief had +increased the wrinkles of age; and our pity for him reached its climax +when he cast his clerical hat on the floor, sank drowsily into a chair, +and began to pray in these words: "Oh heabben! hear a solemn and a solid +prayer—hear a solemn heart who wants to embrace his darling Fanny!"</p> + +<p>All this time, the lost daughter was hiding behind the forlorn father's +chair; an awful and convenient darkness being thrown on the stage by the +introduction of a plank between the actors and the tallow candles. In +this striking situation, Miss Fanny told her sad story, and pleaded her +own cause as a stranger, under disguise of the darkness. Useless—quite +useless! The reverend gentleman, having never turned round to see who it +was that was speaking to him, and having therefore no idea that it was +his own daughter, received in dignified silence the advances of a young +person unknown to him. What course was now left to the unhappy Fanny? +The old course—a rush off the stage, and a swoon in the street. As soon +as her back was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>turned, the Parson, forgetting to take away his hat +with him, staggered out at the opposite side to continue his journey. He +uttered as he went the following moral observation:—"No soul so lost to +Nature, but must be lost eternally—my 'art is broken!"</p> + +<p>The next moment, we were startled by a long and elaborate trampling of +feet behind the scenes, and the villain Chartress, ran panic-stricken +across the stage, hotly pursued by "good h'Adam Marle." In the eloquent +language of virtue, thus did Adam address him:—"Stay, ruffian, stay! +Inquiring for Chartress at the bar of this inn, I found indeed that you +was the very identical. You foul, venomous, treacherous, voluptuous +liar, where is the un'appy Fanny? where is the victim of your prey?—Ha! +'oary-'edded ruffian, I have yer!" (<i>Collars Chartress.</i>) "But no! I +will not <i>strike</i> yer; I will <i>drag</i> yer!" It was interesting to see +Adam exemplify the peculiar distinction in the science of assault +implied in his last words, by hauling Chartress all round the stage. It +was awful to observe that the Colonel lost his temper at the second +round, murderously snapped a pistol in "h'Adam's" face, and rushed off +in hot homicidal triumph. We waited <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>breathless for the fall of Marle. +Nothing of the sort happened. He started, frowned, paused, laughed +fiercely, exclaimed,—"The villain 'as missed!" and followed in pursuit.</p> + +<p>In the interim, Miss Fanny had been picked up in the street, for the +fourth time, by a benevolent "washerwoman," who happened to be passing +by at the moment; had been conveyed to the said washerwoman's lodgings; +and now appeared before us, despoiled, at last, of all the glories of +the red polka, enveloped from head to foot in clouds of white muslin, +and dying with frightful rapidity in an armchair. In the next and last +scene, all that remained to represent the unhappy heroine was a coffin +decently covered with a white sheet. With slow and funereal steps, the +Curate, Miss Grace, "h'Adam," the Highwayman, and the "venomous and +voluptuous liar," Chartress, approached to weep over it. The Curate had +gone raving mad since we saw him last. His wig was set on wrong side +foremost; the ends of his clerical cravat floated wildly, a yard long at +least over his shoulders; his eyes rolled in frenzy; he swooned at the +sight of the coffin; recovered convulsively; placed Marle's hand in the +hand of Miss Grace (telling him that now one daughter <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>was dead, nothing +was left for him but to marry the other); and then fell flat on his +back, with a thump that shook the stage and made the audience start +unanimously. Marle—well-bred to the last—politely offered his arm to +Grace; and pointing to the coffin, asked Chartress, reproachfully, +whether that was not <i>his</i> work. The Colonel took off his opera-hat, +raised his hand to his eyes, and doggedly answered, "Indeed, it is!" The +Tableau thus formed, was completed by the Highwayman, the coffin, and +the defunct Curate; and the curtain fell to slow music.</p> + +<p>Such was the plot of this remarkable dramatic work, exactly as I took it +down in the theatre, between the acts; noting also in my pocket-book +such scraps of dialogue as I have presented to the reader, while they +fell from the actors' lips. There were plenty of comic scenes in the +play which I leave unmentioned; for their humour was of the dreariest, +and their morality of the lowest order that can possibly be conceived. I +can only say, as the result of my own experience at Redruth, that if the +dramatic reforms which are now being attempted in the theatrical by-ways +of the metropolis succeed, there would be no harm in extending the +experiment as far as the locomotive stage of Cornwall. Good plays are +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>good missionaries; and, like missionaries, let them travel to teach.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And now, having seen enough of the modern drama in Cornwall, without +waiting for the songs, the dances, and the farces which are to follow +the "Curate's Daughter," let us go on to Piranzabuloe, and look at the +theatre in which the Cornish of former days assembled; endeavouring to +discover, at the same time, by what sort of performances the people were +instructed or amused some two hundred and fifty years ago.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XI" id="XI"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XI.</h2> + +<h2>THE ANCIENT DRAMA IN CORNWALL.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>We found the modern Cornish theatre situated in a populous town; built +up, as a temporary structure, with old canvas and boards; and opened to +audiences only at night. We found the ancient Cornish theatre placed in +a perfect desert; constructed permanently, though rudely, of mounds of +turf—the sky forming its only roof, the flat plain its only stage, the +broad daylight its only means of illumination. Nothing of the kind could +be more strongly marked than the difference between the theatre of the +past, and the theatre of the present day, in the far West of England.</p> + +<p>In like manner, the country about Piran Round (such is the name of the +Old Cornish amphitheatre) offers a startling contrast to the country +about <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>Redruth. You are at once powerfully impressed by its barren +solitude, its dreary repose, after the fertility and populousness of the +great mining districts through which you have just passed. Now, the +large towns and busy villages disappear, the mines grow rarer, the roads +look deserted, the wide pathways dwindle to the merest foot-track. Again +you behold the spacious moor rolling away in alternate hill and dale to +the far horizon; again you pass though the quaint coast villages; and +see the few simple cottages, the few old boats, the little groups +talking quietly at the inn door, as they have already presented +themselves along the southern and western shores of Cornwall. Soon, +however, your onward road towards Piran Round becomes yet more desolate. +Ere long, not even a solitary cottage is in sight, not a living being +appears: you find yourself wandering along the uneven boundary of a +wilderness of sand-hills heaped up from the seashore by the wind. You +look over a perfect desert of miniature mountains and valleys, in some +places overgrown with thin, dry grass; in others, dotted with little +pools of mud and stagnant water. Year by year, this invasion of sand +encroaches on the moorland—year by year, it is ever shifting, ever +increasing, ever assuming newer and more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>fantastic forms, now in one +direction and now in another, with each fresh storm.</p> + +<p>When you leave this dreary scene, you only leave it for the wild flat +heath, the open naked country once more. You follow your long road, +visible miles on before you, winding white and serpent-like over the +dark ground, until you suddenly observe in the distance an object which +rises strangely above the level prospect. You approach nearer, and +behold a circular turf embankment; a wide, lonesome, desolate enclosure, +looking like a witches' dancing-ring that has sprung up in the midst of +the open moor. This is Piran Round. Here, the old inhabitants of +Cornwall assembled to form the audience of the drama of former days.</p> + +<p>A level area of grassy ground, one hundred and thirty feet in diameter, +is enclosed by the embankment. There are two entrances to this area cut +through the boundary circle of turf and earth, which rises to a height +of nine or ten feet, and narrows towards the top, where it is seven feet +wide. All round the inside of the embankment steps were formerly cut; +but their traces are now almost obliterated by the growth of the grass. +They were originally seven in number; the spectators stood on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>them in +rows, one above another—a closely packed multitude, all looking down at +the dramatic performances taking place on the wide circumference of the +plain. When it was well filled, the amphitheatre must have contained +upwards of two thousand people.</p> + +<p>Such is this rude, yet extraordinary structure, in our time. It has not +lost its patriarchal simplicity since the far distant period when the +populace thronged its turf steps to welcome the strolling players of +their age. The antiquity of Piran Round dates back beyond the period of +the earliest and rudest dramatic performances on English ground. It was +first used for popular sports, for single combats, for rustic councils. +Then, plays were acted in it—miracle plays—some translated into the +ancient Cornish language, some originally written in it. The oldest of +these are lost; but one of a comparatively late date has been preserved +and translated into English. We will examine this book while we sit +within the deserted amphitheatre; and thus, in imagination at least, +people the simple stage before us with the rough country actors who once +trod it—thus pry behind the scenes at all that is left to us of the +ancient drama in Cornwall.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>The play which we now open is called by the comprehensive title of "The +Creation of the World, with Noah's Flood." It was translated in 1611, +from a drama of much earlier date, for performance in Cornish, by +William Jordan; was then rendered into English by John Keygwyn, in 1691; +and was finally corrected and published by Mr. Davies Gilbert, in 1827. +The Cornish and English versions are printed on opposite pages, so we +can compare the two throughout, as we go on.</p> + +<p>The play is in five acts, and is written in poetry—in a rambling +octosyllabic metre, often varied by the introduction of longer or +shorter lines, and sometimes interspersed (in the Cornish version) with +a word or two of English. It occupies a hundred and eighty pages, +containing on the average about twenty-five lines each. This would be +thought rather a lengthy manner of developing a dramatic story in our +days; but we must remember that the time embraced in the plot of the old +playwright extends from the Creation to the Flood, and must be +astonished and thankful that he has not been more diffuse.</p> + +<p>The <i>dramatis personæ</i> muster by the legion. In the first act, we have +the whole heavenly host: in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>second, are superadded Adam, Eve, +"Torpen, a devil," Beelzebub, the Serpent, and Michael the Archangel; in +the third, besides these, Death, Cain and his wife, Abel and Seth; in +the fourth, we have the addition of Lamech, a servant, a Cherubim, and a +first and second devil; and in the fifth, Enoch, Noah and his wife, +Shem, Ham, Japhet, Seth, Jaball, and Tubal Cain.</p> + +<p>The author manages this tremendous list of mortal and immortal +characters with infinite coolness and dexterity. Nothing appears to +embarrass him. He follows history in a negligent, sauntering way, +passing over a hundred years or so, whenever it is convenient; and +giving all his personages their turn of talking in orderly and impartial +rotation. His speeches are wonderfully moral and long; even his worst +characters have, for the most part, a temperate and logical way of +uttering the most violent language, which must have read an excellent +lesson to the roistering young gentlemen among the audiences of the +time.</p> + +<p>We will now examine the play a little in detail, quoting the stage +directions (the most extraordinary part of it) exactly as they occur; +and occasionally presenting a line or two of the dialogue from the old +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>English translation wherever it best illustrates the author's style.</p> + +<p>The first act comprehends the fall of the angels—the introductory stage +direction commanding that the theatrical clouds, and the whole sky to +boot, shall open when Heaven is named! All is harmony at the outset of +the play, until it is Lucifer's turn to speak. He declares that he alone +is great, and that all allegiance must be given to him. Some of the +angels glorify him accordingly; others remain true to their celestial +service; the debate grows warm, and some of the disputants give each +other the lie (but very calmly). At length, the scene is closed by +Lucifer's condemnation to Hell, which, as the directions provide, "shall +gape when it is named." The faithful angels are then told to "have +swords and staves ready for Lucifer," who, we are informed, "voideth and +goeth down to Hell apparelled foul, with fire about him, turning to +Hell, with every degree of devils and lost spirits on cords running into +the plain." With this stirring scene the act ends.</p> + +<p>The second act comprises the creation and fall of man. Here, again, we +will consult the stage directions, as giving the best idea of the +incidents and scenes. We find that Adam and Eve are to be "apparelled in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>white leather in a place appointed by the conveyor" (probably the +person we term stage-manager now); "and are not to be seen until they be +called; and then each rises." After this, we read:—"Let Paradise be +finely made, with fair trees in it, and apples upon a tree, and other +fruit on the others. A fountain, too, in Paradise, and fine flowers +painted. Put Adam into Paradise—let flowers appear in Paradise—let +Adam lie down and sleep where Eve is, and she, by the conveyor, must be +taken from Adam's side—let fishes of all sorts, birds and beasts, as +oxen, kyne, sheep, and such like, appear."</p> + +<p>Then, we have the preparations for the temptation, ordered thus:—"A +fine serpent to be made with a virgin's face, and yellow hair on her +head. Let the serpent appear, and also geese and hens." Lucifer enters +immediately afterwards, and goes into the serpent, which is then +directed to be "seen singing in a tree" (the actor who personated +Lucifer must have had some gymnastic difficulties to contend with in his +part!)—"Eve looketh strange on the serpent;" then, "talketh familiarly +and cometh near him;" then, "doubteth and looketh angrily;" and then +eats part of the apple, shows it to Adam, and insists <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>on his eating +part of it too, in the following lines:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">"Sir, in a few words,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Taste them part of the apple,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">Or my love thou shalt lose!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">See, take this fair apple,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Or surely between thee and thy wife</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">The love shall utterly fail,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">If thou wilt not eat of it!"<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The stage direction now proceeds:—"Adam receiveth the apple and tasteth +it, and so repenteth and casteth it away. Eve looketh on Adam very +strangely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>and speaketh not anything." During this pause, the "conveyor" +is told "to get the fig-leaves ready." Then Lucifer is ordered to "come +out of the serpent and creep on his belly to hell;" Adam and Eve receive +the curse, and depart out of Paradise, "showing a spindle and +distaff"—no badly-conceived emblem of the labour to which they are +henceforth doomed. And thus the second act terminates.</p> + +<p>The third act treats of Cain and Abel; and is properly opened by an +impersonation of Death. After which Cain and Abel appear to sacrifice.</p> + +<p>Cain makes his offering of the first substance that comes to hand—"dry +cow-dung"(!); and tells Abel that he is a "dolthead" and "a frothy fool" +for using anything better. "Abel is stricken with a jawbone and dieth; +Cain casteth him into a ditch." The effect of the first murder on the +minds of our first parents, is delineated in some speeches exhibiting a +certain antique simplicity of thought, which almost rises to the +poetical by its homely adherence to nature, and its perfect innocence of +effort, artifice, or display. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>banishment of Cain, still glorying in +his crime, follows the lamentations of Adam and Eve for the death of +Abel; and the act is closed by Adam's announcement of the birth of Seth.</p> + +<p>The fourth act relates the deaths of Cain and Adam, and contains some of +the most eccentric, and also, some of the most elevated writing in the +play. Lamech opens the scene, candidly and methodically exposing his own +character in these lines:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">"Sure I am the first</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">That ever yet had two wives!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">And maidens in sufficient plenty</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">They are to me. I am not dainty,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">I can find them where I will;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Nor do I spare of them</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">In anywise one that is handsome.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">But I am wondrous troubled,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Scarce do I see one glimpse</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">What the devil shall be done!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>In this vagabond frame of mind Lamech goes out hunting, with bow and +arrow, and shoots Cain, accidentally, in a bush. When Cain falls, Lamech +appeals to his servant, to know what is it that he has shot. The servant +declares that it is "hairy, rough, ugly, and a buck-goat of the night." +Cain, however, discovers himself before he dies. There is something +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>rudely dreary and graphic about his description of his loneliness, bare +as it is of any recommendation of metaphors or epithets:</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">"Deformed I am very much,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">And overgrown with hair;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">I do live continually in heat or cold frost,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8.5em;">Surely night and day;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Nor do I desire to see the son of man,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">With my will at any time;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">But accompany most time with all the beasts."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Lamech, discovering the fatal error that he has committed, kills his +servant in his anger; and the scene ends with "the devils carrying them +away with great noise to hell."</p> + +<p>The second scene is between Adam and his son Seth; and here, the old +dramatist often rises to an elevation of poetical feeling, which, +judging from the preceding portions of the play, we should not have +imagined he could reach. Barbarous as his execution may be, the simple +beauty of his conception often shines through it faintly, but yet +palpably, in this part of the drama.</p> + +<p>Adam is weary of life and weary of the world; he sends Seth to the gates +of Paradise to ask mercy and release for him, telling his son that he +will find the way thither by his father's foot-prints, burnt into the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>surface of the earth which was cursed for Adam's transgression. Seth +finds and follows the supernatural marks, is welcomed by the angel at +the gate of Paradise, and is permitted to look in. He beholds there, an +Apocalypse of the redemption of the world. On the tree of life sit the +Virgin and Child; while on the tree from which Eve plucked the apple, +"the woman" is seen, having power over the serpent. The vision changes, +and Cain is shown in hell, "sorrowing and weeping." Then the angel +plucks three kernels from the tree of life, and gives them to Seth for +his father's use, saying that they shall grow to another tree of life, +when more than five thousand years are ended; and that Adam shall be +redeemed from his pains when that period is fulfilled. After this, Seth +is dismissed by the angel and returns to communicate to his father the +message of consolation which he has received.</p> + +<p>Adam hears the result of his son's mission with thankfulness; blesses +Seth; and speaks these last words, while he is confronted by Death:—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">"Old and weak, I am gone!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">To live longer is not for me:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Death is come,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Nor will here leave me</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">To live one breath!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">I see him now with his spear,</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Ready to pierce me on every side,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">There is no escaping from him!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">The time is welcome with, me—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">I have served long in the world!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>So, the patriarch dies, trusting in the promise conveyed through his +son; and is buried by Seth "in a fair tomb, with some Church sonnet."</p> + +<p>After this impressive close to the fourth act—impressive in its +intention, however clumsy the appliances by which that intention is +worked out—it would be doing the old author no kindness to examine his +fifth act in detail. Here, he sinks again in many places, to puerility +of conception and coarseness of dialogue. It is enough to say that the +history of the Flood closes the drama, and that the spectators are +dismissed with an epilogue, directing them to "come to-morrow, betimes, +and see very great matters"—the minstrels being charged, at the +conclusion to "pipe," so that all may dance together, as the proper +manner of ending the day's amusements.</p> + +<p>And now, let us close the book, look forth over this lonesome country +and lonesome amphitheatre, and imagine what a scene both must have +presented, when a play was to be acted on a fine summer's morning in the +year 1611.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>Fancy, at the outset, the arrival of the audience—people dressed in the +picturesque holiday costume of the time, which varied with every varying +rank, hurrying to their daylight play from miles off; all visible in +every direction on the surface of the open moor, and all converging from +every point of the compass to the one common centre of Piran Round. +Then, imagine the assembling in the amphitheatre; the running round the +outer circle of the embankment to get at the entrances; the tumbling and +rushing up the steps inside; the racing of hot-headed youngsters to get +to the top places; the sly deliberation of the elders in selecting the +lower and safer positions; the quarrelling when a tall man chanced to +stand before a short one; the giggling and blushing of buxom peasant +wenches when the gallant young bachelors of the district happened to be +placed behind them; the universal speculations on the weather; the +universal shouting for pots of ale—and finally, as the time of the +performance drew near and the minstrels appeared with their pipes, the +gradual hush and stillness among the multitude; the combined stare of +the whole circular mass of spectators on one point in the plain of the +amphitheatre, where all knew that the actors lay hidden in a pit, +properly covered in from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>observation—the mysterious "green-room" of +the strolling players of old Cornwall!</p> + +<p>And the play!—to see the play must have been a sight indeed! Conceive +the commencement of it; the theatrical sky which was to open awfully +whenever Heaven was named; the mock clouds coolly set up by the +"property-man" on an open-air stage, where the genuine clouds appeared +above them to expose the counterfeit; the hard fighting of the angels +with swords and staves; the descent of the lost spirits along cords +running into the plain; the thump with which they must have come down; +the rolling off of the whole troop over the grass, to the infernal +regions, amid shouts of applause from the audience as they rolled! Then +the appearance of Adam and Eve, packed in white leather, like our modern +dolls—the serpent with the virgin's face and the yellow hair, climbing +into a tree, and singing in the branches—Cain falling out of the bush +when he was struck by the arrow of Lamech, and his blood appearing, +according to the stage directions, when he fell—the making of the Ark, +the filling it with live stock, the scenery of the Deluge, in the fifth +act! What a combination of theatrical prodigies the whole performance +must have presented! How the actors must have ranted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>to make themselves +heard in the open air; how often the machinery must have gone wrong, and +the rude scenery toppled and tumbled down! Could we revive at will, for +mere amusement, any of the bygone performances of the theatre, since the +first days of barbaric acting in a cart, assuredly the performances at +Piran Round would be those which, without hesitation, we should select +from all others to call back to life.</p> + +<p>The end of the play, too—how picturesque, how striking all the +circumstances attending it must have been! Oh that we could hear again +the merry old English tune piped by the minstrels, and see the merry old +English dancing of the audience to the music! Then, think of the +separation and the return home of the populace, at sunset; the fishing +people strolling off towards the seashore; the miners walking away +farther inland; the agricultural labourers spreading in all directions, +wherever cottages and farm-houses were visible in the far distance over +the moor. And then the darkness coming on, and the moon rising over the +amphitheatre, so silent and empty, save at one corner, where the poor +worn-out actors are bivouacking gipsy-like in their tents, cooking +supper over the fire that flames up red in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>moonlight, and talking +languidly over the fatigues and the triumphs of the play. What a moral +and what a beauty in the quiet night view of the old amphitheatre, after +the sight that it must have presented during the noise, the bustle, and +the magnificence of the day!</p> + +<p>Shall we dream over our old play any longer? Shall we delay a moment +more, ere we proceed on our journey, to compare the modern with the +ancient drama in Cornwall, as we have already compared the theatre of +Redruth with the theatre of Piran Round? If we set them fairly against +one another as we now know them, would it be rash to determine which +burnt purest—the new light that flared brilliantly in our eyes when we +last saw it, or the old light that just flickered in the socket for an +instant, as we tried to trim it afresh? Or, if we rather inquire which +audience had the advantage of witnessing the worthiest performance, +should we hesitate to decide at once? Between the people at Redruth, and +the people at Piran Round, there was certainly a curious resemblance in +one respect—they failed alike to discern the barbarisms and absurdities +of the plays represented before them; but were they also equally +uninstructed by what they beheld? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>Which was likeliest to send them away +with something worth thinking of, and worth remembering—the drama about +knaves and fools, at the modern theatre, or the drama about Scripture +History at the ancient? Let the reader consider and determine.</p> + +<p>For our parts, let us honestly confess that though we took up the old +play (not unnaturally) to laugh over the clumsiness and eccentricity of +the performance, we now lay it down (not inconsistently), recognising +the artless sincerity and elevation of the design—just as in the +earliest productions of the Italian School of Painting we first perceive +the false perspective of a scene or the quaint rigidity of a figure, and +only afterwards discover that these crudities and formalities enshrine +the germs of deep poetic feeling, and the first struggling perceptions +of grace, beauty, and truth.</p> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> In case any of my readers should feel desirous of seeing a +specimen of the Cornish language at the date of the play, I subjoin the +original text of the seven lines of John Keygwyn's translation, quoted +above. +</p> +<p><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">"Syr, war nebas lavarow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Tast gy part an avallow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">Po ow harenga ty a gyll!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Meir, Kymar an avail teake,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Po sure inter te ha'th wreage</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">An garenga quyt a fyll</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">Mar ny vynyth y thebbry!"</span><br /> +</p> +<p> +Some of this looks like a very polyglot language. But the ancient +Cornish tongue had altered and deteriorated; and was indeed changing +into English at the period of our play. Why the author should have +helped himself, in his literary emergency, to the two Latin words in the +fifth line (<i>inter te</i>) when English would have served his turn as well, +it is difficult to discover, unless he wished to show his learning +before the rustic audiences of Piran Round.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XII" id="XII"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XII.</h2> + +<h2>THE NUNS OF MAWGAN.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>About three miles from the large market-town of St. Columb Major, in the +direction of the coast, is situated the Vale of Mawgan. The village of +the same name occupies the lower part of the valley, and includes a few +cottages, an old church, a yet older manor-house, and a clear running +stream, crossed by a little stone bridge, all nestling close together on +a few hundred yards of ground enclosed by some of the most luxuriant +wood foliage in Cornwall. The trees bound each side of the stream, +tinging it in deep places where it eddies smoothly, with hues of +lustrous green; and dipping their lower branches into it, where it +ripples on white pebbles or glides fast over grey sand. They cluster +thickly about the old church-yard, as if to keep the place secret, +throwing deep shadows over the graves, and hiding all outer objects from +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>eye. The small cottage garden and the spacious manor-house enjoy +their verdant shelter alike; the bye-roads leading in and out of the +village, are soon lost to view amid outspread branches; and not even a +peep of the land that leads on to the sea in one direction, and back to +the town in the other, is to be obtained through the natural screen of +leaves above, and mosses, ferns, and high grass below, which closely +shut in this part of the Vale of Mawgan from the open country around.</p> + +<p>There is an unbroken, unworldly tranquillity about this secluded place, +which communicates itself mysteriously to the stranger's thoughts; +making him unconsciously slacken in his walk, and look and listen in +silence, when he enters it, as if he had penetrated into a new sphere. +Slight noises, rarely noticed elsewhere, are always audible here. The +dull fall of the latch, when an idle child carelessly opens the +churchyard wicket, sounds from one end of the village to the other. The +curious traveller who wanders round the walls of the old church, peering +through its dusty lattice windows at the dark religious solitude within, +can hear the lightest flap of a duck's wing in the stream below; or the +gentlest rustle of distant leaves, as the faint breeze moves them in the +upland woods <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>above. But these, and all other sounds, never break the +peaceful charm of the place—they only deepen its unearthly stillness.</p> + +<p>Within the church-yard, the bright colour of the turf, and the quiet +grey hues of the mouldering tombstones, are picturesquely intermingled +all over the uneven surface of the ground, save in one remote corner, +where the graves are few and the grass grows rank and high. Here, the +eye is abruptly attracted by the stern of a boat, painted white, and +fixed upright in the earth. This strange memorial, little suited though +it be to the old monuments around, has a significance of its own which +gives it a peculiar claim to consideration. Inscribed on it, appear the +names of ten fishermen of the parish who went out to sea to pursue their +calling, on one wintry night in 1846. It was unusually cold on land—on +the sea, the frosty bitter wind cut through to the bones. The men were +badly provided against the weather; and hardy as they were, the weather +killed them that night. In the morning, the boat drifted on shore, +manned like a spectre bark, by the ghastly figures of the +dead—freighted horribly with the corpses of ten men all frozen to +death. They are now buried in Mawgan church-yard; and the stern of the +boat they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>died in tells their fatal story, and points to the last home +which they share together.</p> + +<p>But it is not from such a village tragedy as this; it is not from its +retired situation, its Arcadian peacefulness, its embowering trees and +hidden hermit-like beauties of natural scenery, that the vale of Mawgan +derives its peculiar interest. It possesses an additional attraction, +stronger than any of these, to fix our attention—it is the scene of a +romance which we may still study, of a mystery which is of our own time. +Even to this little hidden nook, even to this quiet bower of Nature's +building, that vigilant and indestructible Papal religion, which defies +alike hidden conspiracy and open persecution, has stretched its stealthy +and far-spreading influence. Even in this remote corner of the remote +west of England, among the homely cottages of a few Cornish peasants, +the imperial Christianity of Rome has set up its sanctuary in triumph—a +sanctuary not thrown open to dazzle and awe the beholder, but veiled in +deep mystery behind gates that only open, like the fatal gates of the +grave, to receive, but never to dismiss again to the world without.</p> + +<p>It is this attribute of the vale of Mawgan which leads the stranger away +from the cool, clear stream, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>and the pleasant, shadowy recesses among +the trees, to an ancient building near the church, which he knows to +have been once an old English manorial hall—to be now a convent of +Carmelite nuns.</p> + +<p>The House of Lanhearne, so it is named, comprises an ancient and a +modern portion; the first dating back before the time of the Conquest, +the second added probably not more than a century and a half ago. The +place formerly belonged to the old Cornish family of the Arundels; but +about the year 1700, their race became extinct, and the property passed +into the possession of the present Lord Arundel. However, although the +manor-house has changed masters, there is one peculiar circumstance +connected with it, which has remained unaltered down to the present +time—it has never had a Protestant owner.</p> + +<p>Thus, whatever religious traditions are connected with it, are Roman +Catholic traditions. A secret recess remains in the wall of the old +house, where a priest was hidden from his pursuers, during the reign of +Elizabeth, for eighteen months; the place being only large enough to +allow a man to stand upright in it. The skull of another priest who was +burnt at the same period, is also preserved with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>jealous care, as one +of the important relics of the ancient history of Lanhearne.</p> + +<p>About the commencement of this century, the manor-house entirely changed +its character. It was at that time given to the Carmelite nuns, who now +inhabit it, by Lord Arundel. The sisterhood was originally settled in +France, and was removed thence to Antwerp, at the outbreak of the first +French Revolution. Shortly afterwards, when the affairs of the Continent +began to assume a threatening and troubled aspect, the nuns again +migrated, and sought in England, at Lanhearne House, the last asylum +which they still occupy.</p> + +<p>The strictness of their order is preserved with a severity of discipline +which is probably without parallel anywhere else in Europe. It is on our +free English ground, in one of our simplest and prettiest English +villages, that the austerities of a Carmelite convent are now most +resolutely practised, and the seclusion of a Carmelite convent most +vigilantly preserved, by the nuns of Mawgan! They are at present twenty +in number: two of them are Frenchwomen, the rest are all English. They +are of every age, from the very young to the very old. The eldest of the +sisterhood has long passed the ordinary <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>limits of human life—she has +attained ninety-five years.</p> + +<p>The nuns never leave the convent, and no one even sees them in it. Women +even are not admitted to visit them: the domestic servants, who have +been employed in the house for years, have never seen their faces, have +never heard them speak. It is only in cases of severe and dangerous +illness, when their own skill and their own medicines do not avail them, +that they admit, from sheer necessity, the only stranger who ever +approaches them—the doctor; and on these occasions, whenever it is +possible, the face of the patient is concealed from the medical man.</p> + +<p>The nuns occupy the modern part of the house, which is entirely built +off, inside, from the ancient. Their only place for exercise is a garden +of two acres, enclosed by lofty walls, and surrounded by trees. Their +food and other necessaries are conveyed to them through a turning door; +all personal communition with the servants' offices being carried on +through the medium of lay sisters. The nuns have a private way, known +only to themselves, to the chapel choir, which is constructed in the +form of a gallery, boarded in at the sides and concealed by a curtain +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>and close grating in front. The chapel itself is in the old part of the +house, and occupies what was formerly the servants' hall. The +officiating priest who undertakes the duties here, lives in this portion +of the building, and leads a life of complete solitude, until he is +relieved by a successor. He never sees the face of one of the nuns; he +cannot even ask one of his own profession to dine with him, without +first of all obtaining (by letter) the express permission of the Abbess; +and when his visitor is at length admitted, it is impossible to gain for +him—let him be who he may—the additional indulgence of being allowed +to sleep in the house.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p>The chapel is the only part of the whole interior of the building to +which strangers can be admitted: those who desire to do so can attend +mass there on Sundays. The casual visitor, when permitted to enter it, +is not allowed to pass beyond the pillars which support the gallery of +the choir above him; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>for if he advanced farther, the nuns who might +then be occupying it, might see him while they were engaged at their +devotions. The chapel exhibits nothing in the way of ornament, beyond +the altar furniture and a few copies from pictures on sacred subjects by +the old masters. Some of the more valuable objects devoted to its +service are not shown. These consist of the sacred vestments and the +sacramental plate, which are said to be of extraordinary beauty and +value, and are preserved in the keeping of the Abbess. The worth of one +of the jewelled chalices alone has been estimated at a thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>Much of the land in the neighbourhood belongs to the convent, which has +been enriched by many valuable gifts. The nuns make a good use of their +wealth. Neither the austerities and mortifications to which their lives +are devoted, nor their rigid and terrible self-exclusion from all +intercourse with their fellow-beings in the world around them, have +diminished their sympathy for affliction, or their readiness in +ministering to the wants of the poor. Any assistance of any kind that +they can render, is always at the service of those who require it, +without distinction of rank or religion. No wandering beggar who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>rings +at the convent bell, ever leaves the door without a penny and a piece of +bread to help him on his way.</p> + +<p>But the charities of the nuns of Mawgan do not stop short at the first +good work of succouring the afflicted; they extend also to a generous +sympathy for those human weaknesses of impatience and irresolution in +others, which they have surmounted, but not forgotten themselves. Rather +more than twelve years since, a young girl of eighteen applied to be +admitted to share the dreary life-in-death existence of the Carmelite +sisterhood. She was received for her year of probation: it expired, and +she still held firmly to her first determination. But the nuns, in pity +to her youth, and perhaps mournfully remembering, even in their +life-long seclusion of mind and body, how strong are the ties which bind +together the beings of this world and the things of this world, gave her +more time yet to search her own motives, to look back on what she was +abandoning, to look forward on what she desired to obtain. Mercifully +refusing to grant her her own wishes, they forebore the performance of +the fatal ceremony which irrevocably took her from earth to give her up +only to Heaven, until she had undergone an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>additional year of +probation. This last solemn period of delay which Christian charity and +sisterly love had piously granted, expired, and found her still +determined to adhere to her resolution. She took the veil; and the +dreary gates of Lanhearne have closed on all that is mortal of her for +ever!</p> + +<p>The convent has two burial places. The first is in an ancient recess +within the village church, and was given to the nuns with the +manor-house. Those among them who first expired on English ground, lie +buried here—the Catholic dead have returned to the once Catholic +edifice, where the Protestant living now worship! When the Carmelite +funeral procession entered this place, it entered at the dead of night, +to avoid the chance of any intrusion. But as the nuns have no private +entrance to their burial-vault, and have been by law prohibited from +making one; as they are obliged to pass through the public door of the +church and walk up the nave, they are at the mercy of any stranger who +can gain admittance to the building, and who may be led by idle +curiosity to watch the ceremonies which accompany their midnight service +for the dead. Feeling this, they have of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>late years abandoned their +burial place, after first carefully boarding it off from all +observation. No inquisitive eyes can now behold, no intruding footsteps +can now approach, the tombs of the nuns of Mawgan.</p> + +<p>The second cemetery, which they use at present, is situated in one of +the convent-gardens, and can therefore be secured, whenever they please, +from all observation. A wooden door at one corner of the ancient portion +of the manor-house leads into it. The place is merely a small, square +plot of ground, damp, shady, and overgrown with long grass. An old and +elaborately carved stone cross stands in it; and about this appear the +graves of the nuns, marked by plain slate tablets. But even here, the +mystery which hangs darkly over the Carmelite household does not +clear—the seclusion that has hidden the living in the Convent, is but +the forerunner of the secrecy that veils from us on the tombstone the +history of the dead. The saint's name once assumed by the nun, and the +short yet beautiful supplication of the Roman Church for the repose of +the soul of the departed, form the only inscriptions that appear over +the graves.</p> + +<p>This is all—all of the lives, all of the deaths of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>sisterhood at +Lanhearne that we can ever know! The remainder must be conjecture. We +have but the bare stern outline that has been already drawn—who shall +venture, even in imagination, to colour and complete the picture which +it darkly, yet plainly, indicates?</p> + +<p>Even if we only endeavour to image to ourselves the externals of the +life which those massy walls keep secret, what have we to speculate on? +Nothing but the day that in winter and summer, in sunshine and in storm, +brings with it year after year, to young and to old alike, the same +monotony of action and the same monotony of repose—the turning door in +the wall (sole indication to those within, that there is a world +without), moved in silence, ever at the same stated hour, by invisible +hands—the prayer and penance in the chapel choir, always a solitude to +its occupants, however many of their fellow-creatures may be standing +beneath it—the short hours of exercise amid high garden walls, which +shut out everything but the distant sky. Beyond this, what remains but +that utter vacancy where even thought ends; that utter gloom in which +the brightest fancy must cease to shine?</p> + +<p>Should we try to look deeper than the surface; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>to strip the inner life +of the convent of all its mysteries and coverings, and anatomising it +inch by inch, search it through down to the very heart? Should we pry +into the dread and secret processes by which, among these women, one +human emotion after another may be suffering, first ossification, then +death? No!—this is a task which is beyond our power; an investigation +which, of our own knowledge, we cannot be certain of pursuing aright. We +may imagine grief that does not exist, remorse that is not felt, error +that has not been committed. It is not for us to criticise the +catastrophe of the drama, when we have no acquaintance with the scenes +which have preceded it. It is not for us, guided by our own thoughts, +moved by the impulses of the world we live in, to decide upon the +measure of good or evil contained in an act of self-sacrifice at the +altar of religion, which is in its own motive and result so utterly +separated from all other motives and results, that we cannot at the +outset even so much as sympathise with it. The purpose of the convent +system is of those purposes which are conceived in this world, but which +appeal for justification or condemnation only to the next.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>"Judge not, that ye be not judged!" Those words sink deep into our +hearts, as we look our last upon the convent walls, and leave the +living-dead at old Lanhearne.</p> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> All the particulars here related of the convent discipline, +were communicated to me by the resident priest. This gentleman was +certainly not a prejudiced witness on the side of austerity—for he +frankly complained of the lonely life which the rules of the Sisterhood +inflicted on him, and unhesitatingly acknowledged that he was anxious +for the time when his clerical successor would come to relieve him.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XIII.</h2> + +<h2>LEGENDS OF THE NORTHERN COAST.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>From the time when we left St. Ives, we walked through the last part of +our journey much faster than we walked through the first; faster, +perhaps, than the reader may have perceived from these pages. When we +stopped at the town of St. Columb Major, to visit the neighbouring vale +of Mawgan, we had already advanced half way up the northern coast of +Cornwall. Throughout this part of the county the towns lay wide asunder; +and, as pedestrian tourists, we were obliged to lengthen our walks and +hasten our pace accordingly.</p> + +<p>After we had quitted St. Columb Major, our rambles began to draw rapidly +to their close. Little more was now left for us to examine than the +different localities connected with certain interesting Cornish legends. +The places thus associated with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>the quaint fancies of the olden time, +were all situated close together, some fifteen or twenty miles farther +on, along the coast. The first among them that we reached was Tintagel +Castle, an ancient ruin magnificently situated on a precipice +overhanging the sea, and romantically, if not historically, reputed as +the birthplace of King Arthur.</p> + +<p>The date of the Castle of Tintagel is as much a subject of perplexity +among modern antiquaries, as is the existence of King Arthur among +modern historians. We may still see some ruins of the Castle; but when +or by whom the building was erected which those ruins represent, we have +no means of discovering: we only know that, after the Conquest, it was +inhabited by some of our English princes, and that it was used as a +state prison so late as the reign of Elizabeth. The rest is, for the +most part, mere conjecture, raised upon the weak foundation of a few +mouldering fragments of walls which must soon crumble and disappear as +the rest of the Castle has crumbled and disappeared before them.</p> + +<p>The position of the old fortress was, probably, almost impregnable in +the days of its strength and glory. The outer part of it was built on a +precipitous projection of cliff, three hundred feet high, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>which must +have been wrenched away from the mainland by some tremendous convulsion +of Nature. The inner part stood on the opposite side of the chasm formed +by this convulsion; and both divisions of the fortress were formerly +connected by a draw-bridge. The most interesting portion of the few +ruins now remaining, is that on the outermost promontory, which is +almost entirely surrounded by the sea. The way up to this cliff is by a +steep and somewhat perilous path; so narrow in certain places, where it +winds along the verge of the precipice, that a single false step would +be certain destruction. The difficulties of the ascent appear to have +impressed the old historian of Cornwall, Norden, so vividly that he +tries in his "Survey," to frighten all his readers from attempting it; +warning "unstable man," if he will try to mount the cliff, that "while +he respecteth his footinge he indaungers his head; and looking to save +the head, indaungers the footinge, accordinge to the old proverbe: +<i>Incidit in Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim</i>. He must have +eyes,"—ominously adds the worthy Norden—"that will scale Tintagel."</p> + +<p>The ruins on the summit of the promontory only consist of a few +straggling walls, loosely piled up, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>rather than built, with +dark-coloured stone. Some still remain entire enough to show the square +loopholes that were pierced in them for arrows; and, here and there, +fragments of rough irregular arches, which might have been either +doorways or windows, are still visible. Those parts of the building +which have fallen, are concealed by long, thickly growing grass—the +foot may sometimes strike against them, but the eye perceives them not. +These are all the vestiges which remain of the once mighty castle; all +the signs that are left to point out the site of the old halls, where +the bold knights of Arthur gathered for the feast or prepared for the +fight, at their royal master's command.</p> + +<p>The Cornish legends tell us that the British hero held his last court, +solemnized his last feast, reviewed his last array of warriors, at +Tintagel, before he went out to the fatal battle-field of Camelford, to +combat his nephew Mordred, who had rebelled against his power. In the +morning, the martial assemblage marched out of the castle in triumph, +led by the king, with his death-dealing sword "Excalibur" slung at his +shoulder, and his magic lance "Rou," in his hand. In the evening the +warriors returned, fatally victorious, from the struggle. The rebel army +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>had been routed and the rebel chief slain; but they brought back with +them, their renowned leader—the favourite hero of martial adventure, +the conqueror of the Saxons in twelve battles—mortally wounded, from +the field which he had quitted a victor.</p> + +<p>That night, the wise and valiant king died in the castle of his birth; +died among his followers who had feasted and sung around him at the +festal table but a few hours before. The deep-toned bells of Tintagel +rang his death peal; and the awe-stricken populace from the country +round, gathering together hurriedly before the fortress, heard +portentous wailings from supernatural voices, which mingled in ghostly +harmony with the moaning of the restless sea, the dirging of the dreary +wind, and the dull deep thunder of the funeral knell. About the heights +of the castle, and in the caverns beneath it, these sounds ceased not +night or day, until the corpse of the hero was conveyed to the ship +destined to bear it to its burial-place in Glastonbury Abbey. Then, +dirging winds, and moaning sea, and wailing voices, ceased; and in the +intervals between the slow pealing of the funeral bells, clear +child-like voices arose from the calmed waters, and told the mourning +people that Arthur was gone from them but for a little time, to be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>healed of all his wounds in the Fairy Land; and that he would yet +return to lead and to govern them, as of old.</p> + +<p>Such is the scene—strange compound of fiction and truth, of the typical +and the real—which legends teach us to imagine in the Tintagel Castle +of thirteen centuries ago! What is the scene that we look on now?—A +solitude where the decaying works of man, and the enduring works of +Nature appear mingled in beauty together. The grass grows high and +luxuriant, where the rushes were strewn over the floor of Arthur's +banqueting hall. Sheep are cropping the fresh pasture, within the walls +which once echoed to the sweetest songs, or rang to the clash of the +stoutest swords of ancient England! About the fortress nothing remains +unchanged, but the sun which at evening still brightens it in its weak +old age with the same glory that shone over its lusty youth; the sea +that rolls and dashes, as at first, against its foundation rocks; and +the wild Cornish country outspread on either side of it, as desolately +and as magnificently as ever.</p> + +<p>The grandeur of the scenery at Tintagel, the romantic interest of the +old British traditions connected with the castle, might well have +delayed us <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>many hours on these solitary heights; but we had other +places still to visit, other and far different legends still to gossip +over. Descending the cliff while the day gave us ample time to wander at +our will; we strolled away inland to track the scene of a new romance as +far as the waterfall called Nighton's Keive.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A walk of little more than half-a-mile brings us to the entrance of a +valley, bounded on either side by high, gently-sloping hills, with a +small stream running through its centre, fed by the waterfall of which +we are in search. We now follow a footpath a few hundred yards, pass by +a mill, and looking up the valley, see one compact mass of vegetation +entirely filling it to its remotest corners, and not leaving the +slightest vestige of a path, the merest patch of clear ground, visible +in any direction, far or near.</p> + +<p>It seems as if all the foliage which ought to have grown on the Cornish +moorlands, had been mischievously crammed into this place, within the +narrow limits of one Cornish valley. Weeds, ferns, brambles, bushes, and +young trees, are flourishing together here, thickly intertwined in every +possible position, in triumphant security from any invasion of bill-hook +or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>axe. You win every step of your way through this miniature forest of +vegetation, by the labour of your arms and the weight of your body. +Tangled branches and thorny bushes press against you in front and +behind, meet over your head, knock off your cap, flap in your face, +twist about your legs, and tear your coat skirts; so obstructing you in +every conceivable manner and in every conceivable direction, that they +seem possessed with a living power of opposition, and commissioned by +some evil genius of Fairy Mythology to prevent mortal footsteps from +intruding into the valley. Whether you try a zig-zag or a straight +course, whether you go up or down, it is the same thing—you must +squeeze, and push, and jostle your way through the crowd of bushes, just +as you would through a crowd of men—or else stand still, surrounded by +leaves, like "a Jack-in-the-Green," and wait for the very remote chance +of somebody coming to help you out.</p> + +<p>Forcing our road incessantly through these obstructions, for a full +half-hour, and taking care to keep our only guide—the sound of the +running-water—always within hearing, we came at last to a little break +in the vegetation, crossed the stream at this place, and found, on the +opposite side of the bank, a faintly-marked track, which might have been +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>once a footpath. Following it as well as we could among the branches +and brambles, and now ascending steep ground, we soon heard the dash of +the waterfall. But to attempt to see it, was no easy undertaking. The +trees, the bushes, and the wild herbage grew here thicker than ever, +stretching in perfect canopies of leaves so closely across the +overhanging banks of the stream, as entirely to hide it from view. We +heard the monotonous, eternal splashing of the water, close at our ears, +and yet vainly tried to obtain even a glimpse of the fall. Adverse Fate +led us up and down, and round and round, and backwards and forwards, +amid a labyrinth of overgrown bushes which might have bewildered an +Australian settler; and still the nymph of the waterfall coyly hid +herself from our eyes. Our ears informed us that the invisible object of +which we were in search was of very inconsiderable height; our patience +was evaporating; our time was wasting away—in short, to confess the +truth here, as I have confessed it elsewhere in these pages, let me +acknowledge that we both concurred in a sound determination to consult +our own convenience, and give up the attempt to discover Nighton's +Keive!</p> + +<p>Our wanderings, however, though useless enough <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>in one direction, +procured us this compensating advantage in another: they led us +accidentally to the exact scene of the legend which we knew to be +connected with this part of the valley, and which had, indeed, first +induced us to visit it.</p> + +<p>We found ourselves standing before the damp, dismantled stone walls of a +solitary cottage, placed on a plot of partially open ground, near the +outskirts of the wood. Long dark herbage grew about the inside of the +ruined little building; a toad was crawling where the leaves clustered +thickest, on what had once been the floor of a room; in every direction +corruption and decay were visibly battening on the lonesome place. Its +aspect would repel rather than allure curiosity, but for the mysterious +story associated with it, which gives it an attraction and an interest +that are not its own.</p> + +<p>Years and years ago, when this desolate building was a neat comfortable +cottage, it was inhabited by two ladies, of whose histories, and even +names, all the people of the district were perfectly ignorant. One day +they were accidentally found living in their solitary abode, before any +one knew that they had so much as entered it, or that they existed at +all. Both appeared to be about the same age, and both <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>were inflexibly +taciturn. One was never seen without the other; if they ever left the +house, they only left it to walk in the most unfrequented parts of the +wood; they kept no servant, and never had a visitor; no living souls but +themselves ever crossed the door of their cottage. They procured their +food and other necessaries from the people in the nearest village, +paying for everything they received when it was delivered, and neither +asking nor answering a single unnecessary question. Their manners were +gentle, but grave and sorrowful as well. The people who brought them +their household supplies, felt awed and uneasy, without knowing why, in +their presence; and were always relieved when they had dispatched their +errand and had got well away from the cottage and the wood.</p> + +<p>Gradually, as month by month passed on, and the mystery hanging over the +solitary pair was still not cleared up, superstitious doubts spread +widely through the neighbourhood. Harmless as the conduct of the ladies +always appeared to be, there was something so sinister and startling +about the unearthly seclusion and secrecy of their lives, that people +began to feel vaguely suspicious, to whisper awful imaginary rumours +about them, to gossip over old stories of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>ghosts and false accusations +that had never been properly sifted to the end, whenever the inhabitants +of the cottage were mentioned. At last they were secretly watched by the +less scrupulous among the villagers, whom intense curiosity had endowed +with a morbid courage and resolution. Even this proceeding led to no +results whatever, but increased rather than diminished the mystery.</p> + +<p>The expertest eavesdroppers who had listened at the door, brought away +no information with them for their pains. Some declared that when the +ladies held any conversation together, they spoke in so low a tone that +it was impossible to distinguish a word they said. Others, of more +imaginative temperament, protested, on the contrary, that their voices +were perfectly audible, but that the language they talked was some +mysterious or diabolical language of their own, incomprehensible to +everybody but themselves. One or two expert and daring spies had even +contrived to look in at them through the window, unperceived; but had +seen nothing uncommon, nothing supernatural,—nothing, in short, beyond +the spectacle of two ladies sitting quietly and silently by their own +fireside.</p> + +<p>So matters went on, until one day universal <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>agitation was excited in +the neighbourhood by a rumour that one of the ladies was dead. The +rustic authorities immediately repaired to the cottage, accompanied by a +long train of eager followers; and found that the report was true. The +surviving lady was seated by her companion's bedside, weeping over a +corpse. She spoke not a word; she never looked up at the villagers as +they entered. Question after question was put to her without ever +eliciting an answer; kind words were useless—even threats proved +equally inefficient: the lady still remained weeping by the corpse, and +still said nothing. Gradually her inexorable silence began to infect the +visitors to the cottage. For a few moments nothing was heard in the room +but the dash of the waterfall hard by, and the singing of birds in the +surrounding wood. Bitterly as the lady was weeping, it was now first +observed by everybody that she wept silently, that she never sobbed, +never even sighed under the oppression of her grief.</p> + +<p>People began to urge each other, superstitiously, to leave the place. It +was determined that the corpse should be removed and buried; and that +afterwards some new expedient should be tried to induce the survivor of +the mysterious pair to abandon her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>inflexible silence. It was +anticipated that she would have made some sign, or spoken some few words +when they lifted the body from the bed on which it lay; but even this +proceeding produced no visible effect. As the villagers quitted the +dwelling with their dead burden, the last of them who went out left her +in her solitude, still speechless, still weeping, as they had found her +at first.</p> + +<p>Days passed, and she sent no message to any one. Weeks elapsed, and the +idlers who waited about the woodland paths where they knew that she was +once wont to walk with her companion, never saw her, watch for her as +patiently as they might. From haunting the wood, they soon got on to +hovering round the cottage, and to looking in stealthily at the window. +They saw her sitting on the same seat that she had always occupied, with +a vacant chair opposite; her figure wasted, her face wan already with +incessant weeping. It was a dismal sight to all who beheld it—a vision +of affliction and solitude that sickened their hearts.</p> + +<p>No one knew what to do; the kindest-hearted people hesitated, the +hardest-hearted people dreaded to disturb her. While they were still +irresolute, the end was at hand. One morning a little girl, who had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>looked in at the cottage window in imitation of her elders, reported, +when she returned home, that she had seen the lady still sitting in her +accustomed place, but that one of her hands hung strangely over the arm +of the chair, and that she never moved to pick up her pocket-handkerchief, +which lay on the ground beside her. At these ominous tidings, the +villagers summoned their resolution, and immediately repaired to the +lonesome cottage in the wood.</p> + +<p>They knocked and called at the door—it was not opened to them. They +raised the latch and entered. She still occupied her chair; her head was +resting on one of her hands; the other hung down, as the little girl had +told them. The handkerchief, too, was on the ground, and was wet with +tears. Was she sleeping? They went round in front to look. Her eyes were +wide open; her drooping hand, worn almost to mere bone, was cold to the +touch as the waters of the valley-stream on a winter's day. She had died +in her wonted place; died in mystery and in solitude as she had lived.</p> + +<p>They buried her where they had buried her companion. No traces of the +real history of either the one or the other have ever been discovered +from that time to this.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>Such is the tale that was related to us of the cottage in the valley of +Nighton's Keive. It may be only imagination; but the stained roofless +walls, the damp clotted herbage, and the reptiles crawling about the +ruins, give the place a gloomy and disastrous look. The air, too, seems +just now unusually still and heavy here—for the evening is at hand, and +the vapours are rising in the wood. The shadows of the trees are +deepening; the rustling music of the waterfall is growing dreary; the +utter stillness of all things besides, becomes wearying to the ear. Let +us pass on, and get into bright wide space again, where the down leads +back to happier solitudes by the seashore.</p> + +<p>We now rapidly lose sight of the trees which have hitherto so closely +surrounded us, and find ourselves treading the short scanty grass of the +cliff-top once more. We still advance northward, walking along rough +cart-roads, and skirting the extremities of narrow gullies leading down +to the sea, until we enter the picturesque village of Boscastle. Then, +descending a long street of irregular houses, of all sizes, shapes, and +ages, we are soon conducted to the bottom of a deep hollow. Beyond this, +the bare ground rises again abruptly up to the highest point of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>high cliffs which overhang the shore; and here, where the site is most +elevated, and where neither cottages nor cultivation appear, we descry +the ancient walls and gloomy tower of Forrabury Church.</p> + +<p>The interior of the building still contains a part of the finely-carved +rood-loft which once adorned it. Its rickety wooden pews are blackened +with extreme old age, and covered with curiously-cut patterns and +cyphers. The place is so dark that it is difficult to read the +inscriptions on many of the mouldering monuments, fixed together without +order or symmetry on the walls. Outside are some Saxon arches, oddly +built of black slate-stone; and the window-mouldings are ornamented with +rough carving, which at once proclaims its own antiquity. But it is in +the tower that the interest attached to the church chiefly centres. +Square, thick, and of no extraordinary height, it resembles in +appearance most other towers in Cornwall—except in one particular, all +the belfry windows are completely stopped up.</p> + +<p>This peculiarity is to be explained simply enough; the church has never +had any bells; the old tower has been mute, and useless except for +ornament, since it was first built. The congregation of the district +must trust to their watches and their punctuality to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>get to service in +good time on Sundays. At Forrabury the chimes have never sounded for a +marriage: the knell has never been heard for a funeral.</p> + +<p>To know the reason of this; to discover why the church, though tower and +belfry have always been waiting ready for them, has never had a peal of +bells, we must seek instruction from another popular tradition, from a +third legend of these legendary shores. Let us go down a little to the +brink of the cliff, where the sea is rolling into a black, yawning, +perpendicular pit of slate rock. The scene of our third story is the +view over the waters from this place.</p> + +<p>In ancient times, when Forrabury Church was still regarded as a building +of recent date, it was a subject of sore vexation to all the people of +the neighbourhood that their tower had no bells, while the inhabitants +of Tintagel still possessed the famous peal that had rung for King +Arthur's funeral. For some years, this superiority of the rival village +was borne with composure by the people of Forrabury; but, in process of +time, they lost all patience, and it was publicly determined by the +rustic council, that the honour of their church should be vindicated. +Money was immediately collected, and bells of magnificent <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>tones and +dimensions were forthwith ordered from the best manufactory that London +could supply.</p> + +<p>The bells were cast, blessed by high ecclesiastical authorities, and +shipped for transportation to Forrabury. The voyage was one of the most +prosperous that had ever been known. Fair winds and calm seas so +expedited the passage of the ship, that she appeared in sight of the +downs on which the church stood, many days before she had been expected. +Great was the triumph of the populace on shore, as they watched her +working into the bay with a steady evening breeze.</p> + +<p>On board, however, the scene was very different. Here there was more +uproar than happiness, for the captain and the pilot were at open +opposition. As the ship neared the harbour, the bells of Tintagel were +faintly heard across the water, ringing for the evening service. The +pilot, who was a devout man, took off his hat as he heard the sound, +crossed himself, and thanked God aloud for a prosperous voyage. The +captain, who was a reckless, vain-glorious fellow, reviled the pilot as +a fool, and impiously swore that the ship's company had only to thank +his skill as a navigator, and their own strong arms and ready wills, for +bringing the ship safely in sight of harbour. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>The pilot, in reply, +rebuked him as an infidel, and still piously continued to return thanks +as before; while the captain, joined by the crew, tried to drown his +voice by oaths and blasphemy. They were still shouting their loudest, +when the vengeance of Heaven descended in judgment on them all.</p> + +<p>The clouds supernaturally gathered, the wind rose to a gale in a moment. +An immense sea, higher than any man had ever beheld, overwhelmed the +ship; and, to the horror of the people on shore, she went down in an +instant, close to land. Of all the crew, the pilot only was saved.</p> + +<p>The bells were never recovered. They were heard tolling a muffled +death-peal, as they sank with the ship; and even yet, on stormy days, +while the great waves roll over them, they still ring their ghostly +knell above the fiercest roaring of wind and sea.</p> + +<p>This is the ancient story of the bells—this is why the chimes are never +heard from the belfry of Forrabury Church.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Now that we have visited the scene of our third legend, what is it that +keeps me and my companion still lingering on the downs? Why we are still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>delaying the hour of our departure long after the time which we have +ourselves appointed for it?</p> + +<p>We both know but too well. At this point we leave the coast, not to +return to it again: at Forrabury we look our last on the sea from these +rocky shores. With this evening, our pleasant days of strolling travel +are ended. To-morrow we go direct to Launceston, and from Launceston at +once to Plymouth. To-morrow the adventures of the walking tourist are +ours no longer; for on that day our rambles in Cornwall will have +virtually closed!</p> + +<p>Rise, brother-traveller! We have lingered until twilight already; the +seaward crags grow vast and dim around us, and the inland view narrows +and darkens solemnly in the waning light. Shut up your sketch-book which +you have so industriously filled, and pocket your pencils which you have +worn down to stumps, even as I now shut up my dogs-eared old journal, +and pocket my empty ink-bottle. One more of the few and fleeting scenes +of life is fast closing, soon to leave us nothing but the remembrance +that it once existed—a happy remembrance of a holiday walk in dear old +England, which will always be welcome and vivid to the last, like other +remembrances of home.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>Come! the night is drawing round us her curtain of mist; let us strap on +our trusty old friends, the knapsacks for the last time, and turn +resolutely from the shore by which we have delayed too long. Come! let +us once again "jog on the footpath way" as contentedly, if not quite as +merrily, as ever; and, remembering how much we have seen and learnt that +must surely better us both, let us, as we now lose sight of the dark, +grey waters, gratefully, though sadly, speak the parting word:—</p> + +<p class="cen"> +<span class="smcap">Farewell to Cornwall!</span> +</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +<h3>POSTSCRIPT TO</h3><br /> + +<h2>RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS.</h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<h2>THE CRUISE OF THE TOMTIT</h2> + +<h4>TO</h4> + +<h3>The Scilly Islands.</h3> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>THE CRUISE OF THE TOMTIT.</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /> +<br /> +<h2>I.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>"At any other time of the year and for a shorter cruise, I should be +delighted to join you. But as I prefer dying a dry death, I must decline +accompanying you all the way to the Scilly Islands in a little pleasure +boat of thirteen tons, just at the time of the autumnal equinox. You may +meet with a gale that will blow you out of the water. You are running a +risk, in my opinion, of the most senseless kind—and, if I thought my +advice had any weight with you, I should say most earnestly, be warned +in time, and give up the trip."—<i>Extract from the letter of A Prudent +Friend.</i></p> + +<p>"If I were only a single man, there is nothing I should like better than +to join you. But I have a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>wife and family, and I can't reconcile it to +my conscience to risk being drowned."—<i>Report from the Personal +Statement of a Married Friend.</i></p> + +<p>"Don't come back bottom upwards."—<i>Final Valedictory Blessing of a +Facetious Friend.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>My messmate and I, having absolutely made up our minds to go to the +Scilly Islands, received the expressions of opinion quoted above, with +the supreme composure which distinguishes all resolute men. In other +words, we held fast to our original determination, engaged the boat and +the crew, and put to sea on our appointed day, in the teeth of the wind +and of our friends' objections. But before I float the present narrative +into blue water, I have certain indispensable formalities to accomplish +which will keep me and my readers for a little while yet on dry land. +First of all, let me introduce our boat, our crew, and ourselves.</p> + +<p>Our boat is named the Tomtit. She is cutter-rigged. Her utmost length +from stem to stern is thirty-six feet, and her greatest breadth on deck +is ten feet. As her size does not admit of bulwarks, her deck, between +the cabin-hatch and the stern, dips into a kind of well, with seats +round three sides <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>of it, which we call the Cockpit. Here we can stand +up in rough weather without any danger of being rolled overboard; +elsewhere, the sides of the vessel do not rise more than a few inches +above the deck. The cabin of the Tomtit is twelve feet long, eight feet +wide, and five feet six inches high. It has roomy lockers, and a snug +little fireplace, and it leads into two recesses forward, which make +capital storerooms for water, coals, firewood, and so forth. When I have +added that the Tomtit has a bright red bottom, continued, as to colour, +up her sides to a little above the watermark; and when I have further +stated that she is a fast sailer, and that she proved herself on our +cruise to be a capital little seaboat, I have said all that is needful +at present on the subject of our yacht, and may get on to our crew and +ourselves.</p> + +<p>Our crew is composed of three brothers: Sam Dobbs, Dick Dobbs, and Bob +Dobbs; all active seamen, and as worthy and hearty fellows as any man in +the world could wish to sail with. My friend's name is Mr. Migott, and +mine is Mr. Jollins. Thus, we are five on board altogether. As for our +characters, I shall leave them to come out as they may in the course of +this narrative. I am going to tell things plainly just as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>they +happened. Smart writing, comic colouring, and graphic description, are +departments of authorship at which I snap my fingers in contempt.</p> + +<p>The port we sailed from was a famous watering-place on the western +coast, called Mangerton-on-the-Mud; and our intention, as intimated at +the beginning of these pages, was to go even farther than the Land's +End, and to reach those last morsels of English ground called the Scilly +Islands. But if the reader thinks he is now to get afloat at once, he is +lamentably mistaken. One very important and interesting part of our +voyage was entirely comprised in the preparations that we made for it. +To this portion of the subject, therefore, I shall wholly devote myself +in the first instance. On paper, or off it, neither Mr. Migott nor +myself are men to be hurried.</p> + +<p>We left London with nothing but our clothes, our wrappers, some tobacco, +some French novels, and some Egyptian cigars. Everything that was to be +bought for the voyage was to be procured at Bristol. Everything that +could be extracted from private benevolence, was to be taken in +unlimited quantities from hospitable friends living more or less in the +neighbourhood of our place of embarkation. At Bristol we plunged over +head and ears in naval <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>business immediately. After ordering a ham, and +a tongue, marmalade, lemons, anchovy paste, and general groceries, we +set forth to the quay to equip ourselves and our vessel.</p> + +<p>We began with charts, sailing directions, and a compass; we got on to a +hammock apiece and a flag; and we rose to a nautical climax by buying +tarpaulin-coats, leggings, and sou'-westers, at a sailors' public-house. +With these sea-stores, and with a noble loaf of home-made bread (the +offering of private benevolence) we left Bristol to scour the friendly +country beyond, in search of further contributions to the larder of the +Tomtit.</p> + +<p>The first scene of our ravages was a large country-house, surrounded by +the most charming grounds. From the moment when we and our multifarious +packages poured tumultuous into the hall, to the moment when we and the +said packages poured out of it again into a carriage and a cart, I have +no recollection, excepting meal-times and bedtime, of having been still +for an instant. Escorted everywhere by two handsome, high-spirited boys, +in a wild state of excitement about our voyage, we ranged the house from +top to bottom, and laid hands on everything portable and eatable that we +wanted in it. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>inexhaustible hospitality of our hostess was proof +against all the inroads that we could make on it. The priceless gift of +packing perishable commodities securely in small spaces, possessed by a +lady living in the house and placed perpetually at our disposal, +encouraged our propensities for unlimited accumulation. We ravaged the +kitchen garden and the fruit-garden; we rushed into the awful presence +of the cook (with our ham and tongue from Bristol as an excuse) and +ranged predatory over the lower regions. We scaled back-staircases, and +tramped along remote corridors, and burst into secluded lumber-rooms, +with accompaniment of shouting from the boys, and of operatic humming +from Mr. Migott and myself, who happen, among other social +accomplishments, to be both of us musical in a desultory way. We turned +out, in these same lumber-rooms, plans of estates from their neat tin +cases, and put in lemons and loaf-sugar instead. Mr. Migott pounced upon +a stray telescope, and strapped it over my shoulders forthwith. The two +boys found two japanned boxes, with the epaulettes and shako of an +ex-military member of the family inside, which articles of martial +equipment (though these are war-times, and nobody is meritorious or +respectable now who does <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>not wear a uniform) I, with my own irreverent +hands, shook out on the floor; and straightway conveyed the empty cases +down-stairs to be profaned by tea, sugar, Harvey's sauce, pickles, +pepper, and other products of the arts of peace. In a word, and not to +dwell too long on the purely piratical part of our preparations for the +voyage, we doubled the number of our packages at this hospitable country +house, before we left it for Mangerton-on-the-Mud, and the dangers of +the sea that lay beyond.</p> + +<p>At Mangerton we made a second piratical swoop upon another +long-suffering friend, the resident doctor. We let this gentleman off, +however, very easily, only lightening him of a lanthorn, and two +milk-cans to hold our freshwater. We felt strongly inclined to take his +warmest cape away from him also; but Mr. Migott leaned towards the side +of mercy, and Mr. Jollins was, as usual, only too ready to sacrifice +himself on the altar of friendship—so the doctor kept his cape, after +all.</p> + +<p>Not so fortunate was our next victim, Mr. Purler, the Port Admiral of +Mangerton-on-the-Mud, and the convivial host of the Metropolitan Inn. +Wisely entering his house empty-handed, we left it with sheets, +blankets, mattresses, pillows, table-cloths, napkins, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>knives, forks, +spoons, crockery, a frying-pan, a gridiron, and a saucepan. When to +these articles of domestic use were added the parcels we had brought +from Bristol, the packages we had collected at the country-house, the +doctor's milk-cans, the personal baggage of the two enterprising +voyagers, additions to the eating and drinking department in the shape +of a cold curry in a jar, a piece of spiced beef, a side of bacon, and a +liberal supply of wine, spirits, and beer—nobody can be surprised to +hear that we found some difficulty in making only one cart-load of our +whole collection of stores. The packing process was, in fact, not +accomplished till after dark. The tide was then flowing; we were to sail +the next morning; and it was necessary to get everything put on board +that night, while there was water enough for the Tomtit to be moored +close to the jetty.</p> + +<p>This jetty, it must be acknowledged, was nothing but a narrow stone +causeway, sloping down from the land into the sea. Our cart, loaded with +breakable things, was drawn up at the high end of the jetty; the Tomtit +waiting to receive the contents of the cart at the low end, in the +water. We had no moon, no stars, no lamp of any kind on shore; and the +one small lanthorn on board the vessel just showed how dark <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>it was, and +did nothing more. Imagine the doctor, and the doctor's friend, and the +doctor's two dogs, and Mr. Migott and Mr. Jollins, all huddled together +in a fussy state of expectation, midway on the jetty, seeing nothing, +doing nothing, and being very much in the way—and then wonder, as we +wondered, at the marvellous dexterity of our three valiant sailors, who +succeeded in transporting piecemeal the crockery, cookery, and general +contents of the cart into the vessel, on that pitchy night, without +breaking, dropping, or forgetting anything. When I hear of professional +conjurors performing remarkable feats, I think of the brothers Dobbs, +and the loading of the Tomtit in the darkness; and I ask myself if any +landsman's mechanical legerdemain can be more extraordinary than the +natural neat-handedness of a sailor?</p> + +<p>The next morning the sky was black, the wind was blowing hard against +us, and the waves were showing their white frills angrily in the offing. +A double row of spectators had assembled at the jetty, to see us beat +out of the bay. If they had come to see us hanged, their grim faces +could not have expressed greater commiseration. Our only cheerful +farewell came from the doctor and his friend and the two dogs. The +remainder of the spectators evidently <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>felt that they were having a last +long stare at us, and that it would be indecent and unfeeling, under the +circumstances, to look happy. Produce me a respectable inhabitant of an +English country town, and I will match him, in the matter of stolid and +silent staring, against any other man, civilized or savage, over the +whole surface of the globe.</p> + +<p>If we had felt any doubts of the sea-going qualities of the Tomtit, they +would have been solved when we "went about," for the first time, after +leaving the jetty. A livelier, stiffer, and drier little vessel of her +size never was built. She jumped over the waves, as if the sea was a +great play-ground, and the game for the morning, Leap-Frog. Though the +wind was so high that we were obliged to lower our foresail, and to +double-reef the mainsail, the only water we got on board was the spray +that was blown over us from the tops of the waves. In the state of the +weather, getting down Channel was out of the question. We were obliged +to be contented, on this first day of our voyage, with running across to +the Welsh coast, and there sheltering ourselves—amid a perfect fleet of +outward-bound merchantmen driven back by the wind—in a snug roadstead, +for the afternoon and the night.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>This delay, which might have been disagreeable enough later in our +voyage, gave us just the time we wanted for setting things to rights on +board.</p> + +<p>Our little twelve-foot cabin, it must be remembered, was bed-room, +sitting-room, dining-room, storeroom, and kitchen, all in one. +Everything we wanted for sleeping, reading, eating, and drinking, had to +be arranged in its proper place. The butter and candles, the soap and +cheese, the salt and sugar, the bread and onions, the oil-bottle and the +brandy-bottle, for example, had to be put in places where the motion of +the vessel could not roll them together, and where, also, we could any +of us find them at a moment's notice. Other things, not of the eatable +sort, we gave up all idea of separating. Mr. Migott and I mingled our +stock of shirts as we mingled our sympathies, our fortunes, and our +flowing punch-bowl after dinner. We both of us have our faults; but +incapability of adapting ourselves cheerfully to circumstances is not +among them. Mr. Migott, especially, is one of those rare men who could +dine politely off blubber in the company of Esquimaux, and discover the +latent social advantages of his position if he was lost in the darkness +of the North Pole.</p> + +<p>After the arrangement of goods and chattels, came <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>dinner (the curry +warmed up with a second course of fried onions)—then the slinging of +our hammocks by the neat hands of the Brothers Dobbs—and then the +practice of how to get into the hammocks, by Messrs. Migott and Jollins. +No landsman who has not tried the experiment can form the faintest +notion of the luxury of the sailor's swinging bed, or of the +extraordinary difficulty of getting into it for the first time. The +preliminary action is to stand with your back against the middle of your +hammock, and to hold by the edge of the canvas on either side. You then +duck your head down, throw your heels up, turn round on your back, and +let go with your hands, all at the same moment. If you succeed in doing +this, you are in the most luxurious bed that the ingenuity of man has +ever invented. If you fail, you measure your length on the floor. So +much for hammocks.</p> + +<p>After learning how to get into bed, the writer of the present narrative +tried his hand at the composition of whisky punch, and succeeded in +imparting satisfaction to his intemperate fellow-creatures. When the +punch and the pipes accompanying it had come to an end, a pilot-boat +anchored alongside of us for the night. Once embarked on our own +element, we old sea-dogs are, after all, a polite race of men. We <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>asked +the pilot where he had come from—and he asked us. We asked the pilot +where he was bound to, to-morrow morning—and he asked us. We asked the +pilot whether he would like a drop of rum—and the pilot, to encourage +us, said Yes. After that, there was a little pause; and then the pilot +asked us, whether we would come on board his boat—and we, to encourage +the pilot, said Yes, and did go, and came back, and asked the pilot +whether he would come on board our boat—and he said Yes, and did come +on board, and drank another drop of rum. Thus in the practice of the +social virtues did we while away the hours—six jolly tars in a +twelve-foot cabin—till it was past eleven o'clock, and time, as we say +at sea, to tumble in, or tumble out, as the case may be, when a jolly +tar wants practice in the art of getting into his hammock.</p> + +<p>So began and ended our first day afloat.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /> +<br /> +<h2>II.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The wind blew itself out in the night. As the morning got on, it fell +almost to a calm; and the merchantmen about us began weighing anchor, to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>drop down Channel with the tide. The Tomtit, it is unnecessary to say, +scorned to be left behind, and hoisted her sails with the best of them. +Favoured by the lightness of the wind, we sailed past every vessel +proceeding in our direction. Barques, brigs, and schooners, French +luggers and Dutch galliots, we showed our stern to all of them; and when +the weather cleared, and the breeze freshened towards the afternoon, the +little Tomtit was heading the whole fleet.</p> + +<p>In the evening we brought up close to the high coast of Somersetshire, +to wait for the tide. Weighed again, at ten at night, and sailed for +Ilfracombe. Got becalmed towards morning, but managed to reach our port +at ten, with the help of the sweeps, or long oars. Went ashore for more +bread, beer, and fresh water; feeling so nautical by this time, that the +earth was difficult to walk upon; and all the people we had dealings +with presented themselves to us in the guise of unmitigated land-sharks. +O, my dear eyes! what a relief it was to Mr. Migott and myself to find +ourselves in our floating castle, boxing the compass, dancing the +hornpipe, and splicing the mainbrace freely in our ocean-home.</p> + +<p>About noon we sailed for Clovelly. Our smooth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>passage across the +magnificent Bay of Bideford is the recollection of our happy voyage +which I find myself looking back on most admiringly while I now write.</p> + +<p>No cloud was in the sky. Far away, on the left, sloped inward the +winding shore; so clear, so fresh, so divinely tender in its blue and +purple hues, that it was the most inexhaustible of luxuries only to look +at it. Over the watery horizon, to the right, the autumn sun hung +grandly, with the fire-path below heaving on a sea of lustrous blue. +Flocks of wild birds at rest, floated chirping on the water all around. +The fragrant steady breeze was just enough to fill our sails. On and on +we went, with the bubbling sea-song at our bows to soothe us; on and on, +till the blue lustre of the ocean grew darker, till the sun sank redly +towards the far water-line, till the sacred evening stillness crept over +the sweet air, and hushed it with a foretaste of the coming night.</p> + +<p>What sight of mystery and enchantment rises before us now? Steep, solemn +cliffs, bare in some places—where the dark-red rock has been rent away, +and the winding chasms open grimly to the view—but clothed for the most +part with trees, which soften their summits into the sky, and sweep all +down them, in glorious masses of wood, to the very water's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>edge. +Climbing from the beach, up the precipitous face of the cliff, a little +fishing village coyly shows itself. The small white cottages rise one +above another; now perching on a bit of rock, now peeping out of a clump +of trees: sometimes two or three together; sometimes one standing alone; +here, placed sideways to the sea, there, fronting it,—but rising always +one over the other, as if, instead of being founded on the earth, they +were hung from the trees on the top of the cliff. Over all this lovely +scene the evening shadows are stealing. The last rays of the sun just +tinge the quiet water, and touch the white walls of the cottages. From +out at sea comes the sound of a horn—blown from the nearest +fishing-vessel, as a signal to the rest to follow her to shore. From the +land, the voices of children at play, and the still fall of the small +waves on the beach, are the only audible sounds. This is Clovelly. If we +had travelled a thousand miles to see it, we should have said that our +journey had not been taken in vain.</p> + +<p>On getting to shore, we found the one street of Clovelly nothing but a +succession of irregular steps, from the beginning at the beach, to the +end half way up the cliffs. It was like climbing to the top of an old +castle, instead of walking through a village. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>When we reached the +summit of the cliff, the hour was too advanced to hope for seeing much +of the country. We strayed away, however, to look for the church, and +found ourselves, at twilight, near some ghastly deserted out-houses, +approached by a half-ruinous gateway, and a damp dark avenue of trees. +The church was near, but shut off from us by ivy-grown walls. No living +creature appeared; not even a dog barked at us. We were surrounded by +silence, solitude, darkness, and desolation; and it struck us both +forcibly, that the best thing we could do was to give up the church, and +get back to humanity with all convenient speed.</p> + +<p>The descent of the High Street of Clovelly, at night, turned out to be a +matter of more difficulty than we had anticipated. There was no such +thing as a lamp in the whole village; and we had to grope our way in the +darkness down steps of irregular sizes and heights, paved with slippery +pebbles, and ornamented with nothing in the shape of a bannister, even +at the most dangerous places. Half-way down, my friend and I had an +argument in the dark—standing with our noses against a wall, and with +nothing visible on either side—as to which way we should turn next. I +guessed to the left, and he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>guessed to the right; and I, being the more +obstinate of the two, we ended in following my route, and at last +stumbled our way down to the pier. Looking at the place the next +morning, we found that the steps to the right led through a bit of +cottage-garden to a snug little precipice, over which inquisitive +tourists might fall quietly, without let or hindrance. Talk of the +perils of the deep! what are they in comparison with the perils of the +shore?</p> + +<p>The adventures of the night were not exhausted, so far as I was +concerned, even when we got back to our vessel.</p> + +<p>I have already informed the reader that the cabin of the Tomtit was +twelve feet long by eight feet wide—a snug apartment, but scarcely +large enough, as it struck me, for five men to sleep in comfortably. +Nevertheless, the experiment was to be tried in Clovelly harbour. I +bargained, at the outset, for one thing—that the cabin hatch should be +kept raised at least a foot all night. This ventilatory condition being +complied with, I tumbled into my hammock; Mr. Migott rolled into his; +and Sam Dobbs, Dick Dobbs, and Bob Dobbs cast themselves down +promiscuously on the floor and the lockers under us. Out went the +lights; and off went my friend and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>Brothers Dobbs into the most +intolerable concert of snoring that it is possible to imagine.</p> + +<p>No alternative was left for my unfortunate self but to lie awake +listening, and studying the character of the snore in each of the four +sleeping individuals. The snore of Mr. Migott I found to be superior to +the rest in point of amiability, softness, and regularity—it was a kind +of oily, long-sustained purr, amusing and not unmusical for the first +five minutes. Next in point of merit to Mr. Migott, came Bob Dobbs. His +note was several octaves lower than my friend's, and his tone was a +grunt—but I will do him justice; I will not scruple to admit that the +sounds he produced were regular as clockwork. Very inferior was the +performance of Sam Dobbs, who, as owner of the boat, ought, I think, to +have set a good example. If an idle carpenter planed a board very +quickly at one time, and very slowly at another, and if he groaned at +intervals over his work, he would produce the best imitation of Sam +Dobbs's style of snoring that I can think of. Last, and worst of all, +came Dick Dobbs, who was afflicted with a cold, and whose snore +consisted of a succession of loud chokes, gasps, and puffs, all +contending together, as it appeared to me, which should suffocate him +soonest. There I lay, wide <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>awake, suffering under the awful nose-chorus +which I have attempted to describe, for nearly an hour. It was a dark +night: there was no wind, and very little air. Horrible doubts about the +sufficiency of our ventilation began to beset me. Reminiscences of early +reading on the subject of the Black Hole at Calcutta came back vividly +to my memory. I thought of the twelve feet by eight, in which we were +all huddled together—terror and indignation overpowered me—and I +roared for a light, before the cabin of the Tomtit became too mephitic +for flame of any kind to exist in it. Uprose they then my Merry Merry +Men, bewildered and grumbling, to grope for the match-box. It was found, +the lantern was lit, the face of Mr. Migott appeared serenely over the +side of his hammock, and the voice of Mr. Migott sweetly and sleepily +inquired what was the matter?</p> + +<p>"Matter! The Black Hole at Calcutta is the matter. Poisonous, gaseous +exhalation is the matter! Outrageous, ungentlemanly snoring is the +matter! give me my bedding, and my drop of brandy, and my pipe, and let +me go on deck. Let me be a Chaldean shepherd, and contemplate the stars. +Let me be the careful watch who patrols the deck, and guards the ship +from foes and wreck. Let me be anything but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>the companion of men who +snore like the famous Furies in the old Greek play." While I am venting +my indignation, and collecting my bedding, the smiling and sleepy face +of Mr. Migott disappears slowly from the side of the hammock—and before +I am on deck, I hear the oily purr once more, just as amiable, soft, and +regular as ever.</p> + +<p>What a relief it was to have the sky to look up at, the fresh night air +to breathe, the quiet murmur of the sea to listen to! I rolled myself up +in my blankets; and, for aught I know to the contrary, was soon snoring +on deck as industriously as my companions were snoring below.</p> + +<p>The first sounds that woke me in the morning were produced by the +tongues of the natives of Clovelly, assembled on the pier, staring down +on me in my nest of blankets, and shouting to each other incessantly. I +assumed that they were making fun of the interesting stranger stretched +in repose on the deck of the Tomtit; but I could not understand one word +of the Devonshire language in which they spoke. Whatever they said of +me, I forgive them, however, in consideration of their cream and fresh +herrings. Our breakfast on the cabin-hatch in Clovelly harbour, after a +dip in the sea, is a remembrance of gustatory bliss which I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>gratefully +cherish. When we had reduced the herrings to skeletons, and the +cream-pot to a whited sepulchre of emptiness, we slipped from our +moorings, and sailed away from the lovely little village with sincere +regret. By noon we were off Hartland Point.</p> + +<p>We had now arrived at the important part of our voyage—the part at +which it was necessary to decide, once for all, on our future +destination. Mr. Migott and I took counsel together solemnly, unrolled +the charts, and then astonished our trusty crew by announcing that the +end of the voyage was to be the Scilly Islands. Up to this time the +Brothers Dobbs had been inclined to laugh at the notion of getting so +far in so small a boat. But they began to look grave now, and to hint at +cautious objections. The weather was certainly beautiful; but then the +wind was dead against us. Our little vessel was stiff and sturdy enough +for any service, but nobody on board knew the strange waters into which +we were going—and, as for the charts, could any one of us study them +with a proper knowledge of the science of navigation? Would it not be +better to take a little cruise to Lundy Island, away there on the +starboard bow? And another little cruise about the Welsh coast, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>where +the Dobbses had been before? To these cautious questions, we replied by +rash and peremptory negatives; and the Brothers, thereupon, abandoned +their view of the case, and accepted ours with great resignation.</p> + +<p>For the Scilly Islands, therefore, we now shaped our course, alternately +standing out to sea, and running in for the land, so as to get down +ultimately to the Land's End, against the wind, in a series of long +zig-zags, now in a westerly and now in an easterly direction. Our first +tack from Hartland Point was a sail of six hours out to sea. At sunset, +the little Tomtit had lost sight of land for the first time since she +was launched, and was rising and falling gently on the long swells of +the Atlantic. It was a deliciously calm, clear evening, with every +promise of the fine weather lasting. The spirits of the Brothers Dobbs, +when they found themselves at last in the blue water, rose amazingly.</p> + +<p>"Only give us decent weather, sir," said Bob Dobbs, cheerfully smacking +the tiller of the Tomtit; "and we'll find our way to Scilly somehow, in +spite of the wind."</p> + +<p><i>How</i> we found our way, remains to be seen.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>III.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>We were now fairly at sea, keeping a regular watch on deck at night, and +never running nearer the Cornish coast than was necessary to enable us +to compare the great headlands with the marks on our chart. Under +present circumstances, no more than three of us could sleep in the cabin +at one time—the combined powers of the snoring party were thus +weakened, and the ventilation below could be preserved in a satisfactory +state. Instead of chronicling our slow zig-zag progress to the Land's +End—which is unlikely to interest anybody not familiar with Cornish +names and nautical phrases—I will try to describe the manner in which +we passed the day on board the Tomtit, now that we were away from land +events and amusements. If there was to be any such thing as an alloy of +dulness in our cruise, this was assuredly the part of it in which Time +and the Hour were likely to run slowest through the day.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the first place, let me record with just pride, that we have solved +the difficult problem of a pure <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>republic in our modest little craft. No +man in particular among us is master—no man in particular is servant. +The man who can do at the right time, and in the best way, the thing +that is most wanted, is always the hero of the situation among us. When +Dick Dobbs is frying the onions for dinner, he is the person most +respected in the ship, and Mr. Migott and myself are his faithful and +expectant subjects. When grog is to be made, or sauces are to be +prepared, Mr. Jollins becomes in his turn the monarch of all he surveys. +When musical entertainments are in progress, Mr. Migott is vocal king, +and sole conductor of band and chorus. When nautical talk and +sea-stories rule the hour, Bob Dobbs, who has voyaged in various +merchantmen all over the world, and is every inch of him a thorough +sailor, becomes the best man of the company. When any affairs connected +with the internal management of the vessel are under consideration, Sam +Dobbs is Chairman of the Committee in the cockpit. So we sail along; and +such is the perfect constitution of society at which we mariners of +England have been able to arrive.</p> + +<p>Our freedom extends to the smallest details. We have no stated hours, +and we are well a-head of all rules and regulations. We have no +breakfast hour, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>no dinner hour, no time for rising or for going to bed. +We have no particular eatables at particular meals. We don't know the +day of the month, or the day of the week; and never look at our watches, +except when we wind them up. Our voice is frequently the voice of the +sluggard; but we never complain, because nobody ever wakes us too soon, +or thinks of interfering with our slumbering again. We wear each other's +coats, smoke each other's pipes, poach on each other's victuals. We are +a happy, dawdling, undisciplined, slovenly lot. We have no principles, +no respectability, no business, no stake in the country, no knowledge of +Mrs. Grundy. We are a parcel of Lotos-Eaters; and we know nothing, +except that we are poking our way along anyhow to the Scilly Islands in +the Tomtit.</p> + +<p>We rise when we have had sleep enough—any time you like between seven +and ten. If I happen to be on deck first, I begin by hearing the news of +the weather and the wind, from Sam, Dick, or Bob at the helm. Soon the +face of Mr. Migott, rosy with recent snoring, rises from the cabin, and +his body follows it slowly, clad in the blue Jersey frock which he +persists in wearing night and day—in the heat of noon as in the cool of +evening. He cannot be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>prevailed upon to give any reason for his violent +attachment to this garment—only wagging his head and smiling +mysteriously when we ask why, sleeping or waking, he never parts with +it. Well, being up, the next thing is to make the toilette. We keep our +fresh water, for minor ablutions, in an old wine cask from Bristol. The +colour of the liquid is a tawny yellow: it is, in fact, weak sherry and +water. For the major ablutions, we have the ship's bucket and the sea, +and a good stock of rough towels to finish with. The next thing is +breakfast on deck. When we can catch fish (which is very seldom, though +we are well provided with lines and bait) we fall upon the spoil +immediately. At other times we range through our sea stores, eating +anything we like, cooked anyhow we like. After breakfast we have two +words to say to our box of peaches, nectarines, and grapes, from the +hospitable country-house. Then the bedding is brought up to air; the +deck is cleaned; the breakfast things are taken away; the pipes, cigars, +and French novels are produced from the cabin; Mr. Migott coils himself +up in a corner of the cockpit, and I perch upon the taffrail; and the +studies of the morning begin. They end invariably in small-talk, beer, +and sleep. So the time <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>slips away cosily till it is necessary to think +about dinner.</p> + +<p>Now, all is activity on board the Tomtit. Except the man at the helm, +every one is occupied with preparations for the banquet of the day. The +potatoes, onions, and celery, form one department; the fire and solid +cookery another; the washing of plates and dishes, knives and forks, a +third; the laying of the cloth on deck a fourth; the concoction of +sauces and production of bottles from the cellar a fifth. No man has any +particular department assigned to him: the most active republican of the +community, for the time being, plunges into the most active work, and +the others follow as they please.</p> + +<p>The exercise we get is principally at this period of the day, and +consists in incessant dropping down from the deck to the cabin, and +incessant scrambling up from the cabin to the deck. The dinner is a long +business; but what do we care for that? We have no appointments to keep, +no visitors to interrupt us, and nothing in the world to do but to +tickle our palates, wet our whistles, and amuse ourselves in any way we +please. Dinner at last over, it is superfluous to say, that the pipes +become visible again, and that the taking of forty winks is only a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>prohibited operation on the part of the man at the helm.</p> + +<p>As for tea-time, it is entirely regulated by the wants and wakefulness +of Mr. Migott, who, since the death of Dr. Johnson, is the most +desperate drinker of tea in all England. When the cups and saucers are +cleared away, a conversazione is held in the cockpit. Sam Dobbs is the +best listener of the company; Dick Dobbs, who has been a yachtsman, is +the jester; Bob Dobbs, the merchant sailor, is the teller of adventures; +and my friend and I keep the ball going smartly in all sorts of ways, +till it gets dark, and a great drought falls upon the members of the +conversazione. Then, if the mermaids are anywhere near us, they may +smell the fragrant fumes which tell of sacrifice to Bacchus, and may +hear, shortly afterwards, the muse of song invoked by cheerful topers. +Thus the dark hours roll on jovial till the soft influences of sleep +descend upon the tuneful choir, and the cabin receives its lodgers for +the night.</p> + +<p>This is the general rule of life on board the Tomtit. Exceptional +incidents of all kinds—saving sea-sickness, to which nobody on board is +liable—are never wanting to vary existence pleasantly from day to day. +Sometimes Mr. Migott gets on from taking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>a nap to having a dream, and +records the fact by a screech of terror, which rings through the vessel +and wakes the sleeper himself, who always asks, "What's that, +eh?"—never believes that the screech has not come from somebody +else—never knows what he has been dreaming of—and never fails to go to +sleep again before the rest of the ship's company have half done +expostulating with him.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a little interesting indigestion appears among us, by way of +change. Dick Dobbs, for example (who is as bilious as an Indian nabob), +is seen to turn yellow at the helm, and to steer with a glazed eye; is +asked what is the matter; replies that he has "the boil terrible bad on +his stomach;" is instantly treated by Jollins (M.D.) as follows:—Two +teaspoonfuls of essence of ginger, two dessert-spoonfuls of brown +brandy, two table spoonfuls of strong tea. Pour down patient's throat +very hot, and smack his back smartly to promote the operation of the +draught. What follows? The cure of Dick. How simple is medicine, when +reduced to its first principles!</p> + +<p>Another source of amusement is provided by the ships we meet with.</p> + +<p>Whenever we get near enough, we hail the largest merchantmen in the most +peremptory manner, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>coolly as if we had three decks under us and an +admiral on board. The large ships, for the most part paralysed by our +audacity, reply meekly. Sometimes we meet with a foreigner, and get +answered by inarticulate yelling or disrespectful grins. But this is a +rare case; the general rule is, that we maintain our dignity unimpaired +all down the Channel. Then, again, when no ships are near, there is the +constant excitement of consulting our charts and wondering where we are. +Every man of us has a different theory on this subject every time he +looks at the chart; but no man rudely thrusts his theory on another, or +aspires to govern the ideas of the rest in virtue of his superior +obstinacy in backing his own opinion. Did I not assert a little while +since that we were a pure republic? And is not this another and a +striking proof of it?</p> + +<p>In such pursuits and diversions as I have endeavoured to describe, the +time passes quickly, happily, and adventurously, until we ultimately +succeed, at four in the morning on the sixth day of our cruise, in +discovering the light of the Longship's Lighthouse, which we know to be +situated off the Land's End. We are now only some seven-and-twenty miles +from the Scilly Islands, and the discovery of the lighthouse <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>enables us +to set our course by the compass cleverly enough. The wind which has +thus far always remained against us, falls, on the afternoon of this +sixth day, to a dead calm, but springs up again in another and a +favourable quarter at eleven o'clock at night. By daybreak we are all on +the watch for the Scilly Islands. Not a sign of them. The sun rises; it +is a magnificent morning; the favourable breeze still holds; we have +been bowling along before it since eleven the previous night; and ought +to have sighted the islands long since. But we sight nothing: no land is +visible anywhere all round the horizon.</p> + +<p>Where are we? Have we overshot Scilly?—and is the next land we are +likely to see Ushant or Finisterre? Nobody knows. The faces of the +Brothers Dobbs darken; and they recall to each other how they deprecated +from the first this rash venturing into unknown waters. We hail two +ships piteously, to ask our way. The two ships can't tell us. We unroll +the charts, and differ in opinion over them more remarkably than ever. +The Dobbses grimly opine that it is no use looking at charts, when we +have not got a pair of parallels to measure by, and are all ignorant of +the scientific parts of navigation. Mr. Migott and I manfully cheer the +drooping spirits of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>the crew with Guinness's stout, and put a smiling +face upon it. But in our innermost hearts, we think of Columbus, and +feel for him.</p> + +<p>The last resource is to post a man at the masthead (if so lofty an +expression may be allowed in reference to so little a vessel as the +Tomtit), to keep a look-out. Up the rigging swarms Dick the Bilious, in +the lowest spirits—strains his eyes over the waters, and suddenly hails +the gaping deck with a joyous shout. The runaway islands are caught at +last—he sees them a-head of us—he has no objection to make to the +course we are steering—nothing particular to say but "Crack on!"—and +nothing in the world to do but slide down the rigging again. Contentment +beams once more on the faces of Sam, Dick, and Bob. Mr. Migott and I say +nothing; but we look at each other with a smile of triumph. We remember +the injurious doubts of the crew when the charts were last unrolled—and +think of Columbus again, and feel for him more than ever.</p> + +<p>Soon the islands are visible from the deck, and by noon we have run in +as near them as we dare without local guidance. They are low-lying, and +picturesque in an artistic point of view; but treacherous-looking and +full of peril to the wary nautical eye. Horrible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>jagged rocks, and +sinister swirlings and foamings of the sea, seem to forbid the approach +to them. The Tomtit is hove to—our ensign is run up half-mast high—and +we fire our double-barrelled gun fiercely for a pilot.</p> + +<p>The pilot arrives in a long, serviceable-looking boat, with a wild, +handsome, dark-haired son, and a silent, solemn old man for his crew. He +himself is lean, wrinkled, hungry-looking; his eyes are restless with +excitement, and his tongue overwhelms us with a torrent of words, spoken +in a strange accent, but singularly free from provincialisms and bad +grammar. He informs us that we must have been set to the northward in +the night by a current, and goes on to acquaint us with so many other +things, with such a fidgety sparkling of the eyes and such a ceaseless +patter of the tongue, that he fairly drives me to the fore part of the +vessel out of his way. Smoothly we glide along, parallel with the jagged +rocks and the swirling eddies, till we come to a channel between two +islands; and, sailing through that, make for a sandy isthmus, where we +see some houses and a little harbour. This is Hugh Town, the chief place +in St. Mary's, which is the largest island of the Scilly group. We jump +ashore in high glee, feeling that we have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>succeeded in carrying out the +purpose of our voyage in defiance of the prognostications of all our +prudent friends. At sea or on shore, how sweet is triumph, even in the +smallest things!</p> + +<p>Bating the one fact of the wind having blown from an unfavourable +quarter, unvarying good fortune had, thus far, accompanied our cruise, +and our luck did not desert us when we got on shore at St. Mary's. We +went, happily for our own comfort, to the hotel kept by the master of +the packet plying between Hugh Town and Penzance. By our landlord and +his cordial wife and family we were received with such kindness and +treated with such care, that we felt really and truly at home before we +had been half an hour in the house. And, by way of farther familiarizing +us with Scilly at first sight, who should the resident medical man turn +out to be but a gentleman whom I knew. These were certainly fortunate +auspices under which to begin our short sojourn in one of the remotest +and wildest places in the Queen's dominions.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>IV.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The Scilly Islands seem, at a rough glance, to form a great irregular +circle, enclosing a kind of lagoon of sea, communicating by various +channels with the main ocean all around.</p> + +<p>The circumference of the largest of the group is, as we heard, not more +than thirteen miles. Five of the islands are inhabited; the rest may be +generally described as masses of rock, wonderfully varied in shape and +size. Inland, in the larger islands, the earth, where it is not planted +or sown, is covered with heather and with the most beautiful ferns. +Potatoes used to be the main product of Scilly; but the disease has +appeared lately in the island crops, and the potatoes have suffered so +severely that when we filled our sack for the return voyage, we were +obliged to allow for two-thirds of our supply proving unfit for use. The +views inland are chiefly remarkable as natural panoramas of land and +sea—the two always presenting themselves intermixed in the loveliest +varieties of form and colour. On the coast, the granite rocks, though +not notably high, take the most wildly and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>magnificently picturesque +shapes. They are rent into the strangest chasms and piled up in the +grandest confusion; and they look down, every here and there, on the +loveliest little sandy bays, where the sea, in calm weather, is as +tenderly blue and as limpid in its clearness as the Mediterranean +itself. The softness and purity of the climate may be imagined, when I +state that in the winter none of the freshwater pools are strongly +enough frozen to bear being skated on. The balmy sea air blows over each +little island as freely as it might blow over the deck of a ship.</p> + +<p>The people have the same great merit which I had previously observed +among their Cornish neighbours—the merit of good manners. We two +strangers were so little stared at as we walked about, that it was +almost like being on the Continent. The pilot who had taken us into Hugh +Town harbour we found to be a fair specimen, as regarded his excessive +talkativeness and the purity of his English, of the islanders generally. +The longest tellers of very long stories, so far as my experience goes, +are to be found in Scilly. Ask the people the commonest question, and +their answer generally exhausts the whole subject before you can say +another word. Their anxiety, whenever we had occasion to inquire our +way, to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>guard us from the remotest chance of missing it, and the honest +pride with which they told us all about local sights and marvels, formed +a very pleasant trait in the general character. Wherever we went, we +found the natural kindness and natural hospitality of the people always +ready to welcome us.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, in this softest and healthiest of climates consumption +is a prevalent disease. If I may venture on an opinion, after a very +short observation of the habits of the people, I should say that +distrust of fresh air and unwillingness to take exercise were the chief +causes of consumptive maladies among the islanders. I longed to break +windows in the main street of Hugh Town as I never longed to break them +anywhere else. One lovely afternoon I went out for the purpose of seeing +how many of the inhabitants of the place had a notion of airing their +bed-rooms. I found two houses with open windows—all the rest were fast +closed from top to bottom, as if a pestilence were abroad instead of the +softest, purest sea-breeze that ever blew. Then, again, as to walking, +the people ask you seriously when you inquire your way on foot, whether +you are aware that the destination you want to arrive at is three miles +off! As for a pedestrian excursion round the largest island—a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>circuit +of thirteen miles—when we talked of performing that feat in the hearing +of a respectable inhabitant, he laughed at the idea as incredulously as +if we had proposed a swimming match to the Cornish coast. When people +will not give themselves the first great chance of breathing healthily +and freely as often as they can, who can wonder that consumption should +be common among them?</p> + +<p>In addition to our other pieces of good fortune, we were enabled to +profit by a very kind invitation from the gentleman to whom the islands +belong, to stay with him at his house, built on the site of an ancient +abbey, and surrounded by gardens of the most exquisite beauty.</p> + +<p>To the firm and benevolent rule of the present proprietor of Scilly, the +islanders are indebted for the prosperity which they now enjoy. It was +not the least pleasant part of a very delightful visit, to observe for +ourselves, under our host's guidance, all that he had done, and was +doing, for the welfare and the happiness of the people committed to his +charge. From what we had heard, and from what we had previously observed +for ourselves, we had formed the most agreeable impressions of the +social condition of the islanders; and we now found the best of these +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>impressions more than confirmed. When the present proprietor first came +among his tenantry he found them living miserably and ignorantly. He has +succoured, reformed, and taught them; and there is now, probably, no +place in England where the direr hardships of poverty are so little +known as in the Scilly Islands.</p> + +<p>I might write more particularly on this topic; but I am unwilling to run +the risk of saying more on the subject of these good deeds than the +good-doer himself would sanction. And besides, I must remember that the +object of this narrative is to record a holiday-cruise, and not to enter +into details on the subject of Scilly; details which have already been +put into print by previous travellers. Let me only add then, that our +sojourn in the islands terminated with the close of our stay in the +house of our kind entertainer. It had been blowing a gale of wind for +two days before our departure; and we put to sea with a doubled-reefed +mainsail, and with more doubts than we liked to confess to each other, +about the prospects of the return voyage.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>However, lucky we had been hitherto, and lucky we were to continue to +the end. Before we had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>long at sea, the wind began to get +capricious; then to diminish almost to a calm; then, towards evening, to +blow again, steadily and strongly, from the very quarter of all others +most favourable to our return voyage. "If this holds," was the sentiment +of the Brothers Dobbs, as we were making things snug for the night, "we +shall be back again at Mangerton before we have had time to get half +through our victuals and drink."</p> + +<p>The wind did hold, and more than hold: and the Tomtit flew, in +consequence, as if she was going to give up the sea altogether, and take +to the sky for a change. Our homeward run was the most perfect contrast +to our outward voyage. No tacking, no need to study the charts, no +laggard luxurious dining on the cabin hatch. It was too rough for +anything but picnicking in the cockpit, jammed into a corner, with our +plates on our knees. I had to make the grog with one hand, and clutch at +the nearest rope with the other—Mr. Migott holding the bowl while I +mixed, and the man at the helm holding Mr. Migott. As for reading, it +was hopeless to try it; for there was breeze enough to blow the leaves +out of the book—and singing was not to be so much as thought of; for +the moment you opened <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>your mouth the wind rushed in, and snatched away +the song immediately. The nearer we got to Mangerton, the faster we +flew. My last recollection of the sea, dates at the ghostly time of +midnight. The wind had been increasing and increasing, since sunset, +till it contemptuously blew out our fire in the cabin, as if the stove +with its artful revolving chimney had been nothing but a farthing +rushlight. When I climbed on deck, we were already in the Bristol +Channel.</p> + +<p>That last view at sea was the grandest view of the voyage. Ragged black +clouds were flying like spectres all over the sky; the moonlight +streaming fitful behind them. One great ship, shadowy and mysterious, +was pitching heavily towards us from the land. Backward out at sea, +streamed the red gleam from the lighthouse on Lundy Island; and marching +after us magnificently, to the music of the howling wind, came the great +rollers from the Atlantic, rushing in between Hartland Point and Lundy, +turning over and over in long black hills of water, with the seething +spray at their tops sparkling in the moonshine. It was a fine breathless +sensation to feel our sturdy little vessel tearing along through this +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>heavy sea—jumping stern up, as the great waves caught her—dashing the +water gaily from her bows, at the return dip—and holding on her way as +bravely and surely as the largest yacht that ever was built. After a +long look at the sublime view around us, my friend and I went below +again; and in spite of the noise of wind and sea, managed to fall +asleep. The next event was a call from deck at half-past six in the +morning, informing us that we were entering Mangerton Bay. By seven +o'clock we were alongside the jetty again, after a run of only +forty-three hours from the Scilly Islands.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Thus our cruise ended; and thus we falsified the predictions of our +prudent friends, and came back with our right side uppermost. "Here's +luck to you, gentlemen!"—was the toast which our honest sailor-brothers +proposed, when we met together later in the day, and pledged each other +in a parting cup. "Here's luck," we answered, on our side—"luck to the +Brothers Dobbs; and thanks besides for hearty companionship and faithful +service." And here, in the last glass with one cheer more,—here's luck +to the vessel that carried us, our lively little Tomtit! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>Tiny home of +joyous days, may thy sea-fortunes be happy, and thy trim sails be set +prosperously for many a year still, to the favouring breeze!</p> + +<p>With those good wishes, our holiday trip closed at the time—as the +record of it closes here. With those last words, the book is shut up; +the reader is released; and the writer drops his pen.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + +<br /> + +<h5>Savill and Edwards, Printers, Chandos Street, Covent Garden.</h5> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +<br /> + +<h3>A LIST OF NEW EDITIONS</h3> + +<p class="cen">Published by Mr. Bentley.</p> +<br /> +<p class="cen">New Edition, in 6 vols. small 8vo, with six Portraits and Plans, price 30s.</p> +<p class="cen">JAMES'S NAVAL HISTORY OF GREAT BRITAIN TO THE PRESENT TIMES.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">New Edition, in 5 vols., crown 8vo, with 41 beautiful Engravings, price 25s.</p> +<p class="cen">THIERS' HISTORY OF THE GREAT FRENCH REVOLUTION.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Now ready, in 8vo, 12s., or in Twelve Shilling Parts, sold separately,</p> +<p class="cen">DICTIONARY OF CHRISTIAN CHURCHES AND SECTS,</p> +<p class="cen">From the EARLIEST AGES of CHRISTIANITY.</p> +<p class="cen">By the Rev. 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MARSDEN, Author of "The Early and Later Puritans."</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Library Edition, in 5 vols. small 8vo, with Ten Illustrations, 15s.</p> +<p class="cen">THE WORKS OF MISS AUSTEN:</p> +<p class="cen">Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, + Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">TWENTY-EIGHTH THOUSAND.</p> +<p class="cen">New Illustrated Edition, in 2 vols., with all the Illustrations<br /> +by Cruikshank and Leech, 15s., or in one vol., with<br /> +Illustrated Frontispiece, 5s.,</p> +<p class="cen">THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS; or, Mirth and Marvels.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">COMPANION TO THE "INGOLDSBY LEGENDS."</p> +<p class="cen">An Entirely New Edition, in crown 8vo, with Illustrated Title, 5s.</p> +<p class="cen">THE BENTLEY BALLADS.<br /> +A Selection of the choice Songs, Ballads, &c., contributed to<br /> +"Bentley's Miscellany" by Father Prout, Dr. Maginn, S. Lover,<br /> +Longfellow, Inman, Ingoldsby, Albert Smith, Irish Whiskey Drinker,<br /> +Dr. Taylor, Dion Boucicault, &c. &c.</p> + +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +<p class="cen">BENTLEY'S STANDARD NOVELS.<br /> +NOW PUBLISHING in small 8vo volumes. The following are now ready.</p> +<br /> +<p class="cen">I.<br /> +Cloth boards, 2s. 6d.; handsomely bound in cloth, 3s.,<br /> +RITA; AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.</p> + +<br /> +<p class="cen">II.<br /> +Cloth boards, 3s. 6d.; handsomely bound in cloth, 4s.,<br /> +THE THREE CLERKS.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Anthony Trollope</span>, Author of "Barchester Towers."</p> + +<br /> +<p class="cen">III.<br /> +Cloth boards, 3s. 6d.; handsomely bound in cloth, 4s.,<br /> +QUITS.<br /> +By the Author of "The Initials."<br /> +The Tenth Thousand of THE INITIALS, price 2s., is now ready.</p> + +<br /> +<p class="cen">IV.<br /> +Cloth boards, 2s. 6d.; handsomely bound in cloth, 3s.,<br /> +THE SEMI-DETACHED HOUSE.<br /> +Edited by Lady <span class="smcap">Theresa Lewis.</span></p> + +<br /> +<p class="cen">V.<br /> +Cloth boards, 2s. 6d.; handsomely bound in cloth, 3s.,<br /> +VILLAGE BELLES.<br /> +By the Author of "Mary Powell," &c.</p> + +<br /> +<p class="cen">VI.<br /> +Cloth boards, 2s. 6d.; handsomely bound in cloth, 3s.,<br /> +THE LADIES OF BEVER HOLLOW.<br /> +By the Author of "Mary Powell," &c.</p> + +<br /> +<p class="cen">VII.<br /> +Cloth boards, 2s. 6d.; handsomely bound in cloth, 3s.,<br /> +EASTON AND ITS INHABITANTS.<br /> +By the Hon. <span class="smcap">Lena Eden</span>.</p> + +<br /> +<p class="cen">VIII.<br /> +Cloth boards, 2s. 6d., or 3s. handsomely bound in cloth,<br /> +THE SEASON TICKET.</p> +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +<p class="cen">Tenth Edition, with Plans, 8vo, 10s. 6d.,<br /> +THE FIFTEEN DECISIVE BATTLES OF THE WORLD.<br /> +From Marathon to Waterloo.<br /> +By Sir <span class="smcap">Edward Creasy</span>, Chief Justice of Ceylon.</p> + +<p>"A happy idea. The decisive features of the battles are well and +clearly brought out; the reader's mind is attracted to the +world-wide importance of the event he is considering, while their +succession carries him over the whole stream of European history." +—<i>Spectator.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">First and Second Series, in small 8vo, with Illustrations, 6s. each,<br /> +CURIOSITIES OF NATURAL HISTORY.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Francis T. Buckland</span>, M.A., Student of Christ Church,<br /> +Assistant-Surgeon 2nd Life Guards.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Twelfth Thousand, post 8vo, 7s. 6d.,<br /> +THE GREAT TRIBULATION; or, Things Coming on the Earth.<br /> +By the Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Cumming</span>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">NEW WORK BY DR. CUMMING.<br /> +Sixth Thousand, crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.,<br /> +REDEMPTION DRAWETH NIGH.<br /> +By the Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Cumming</span>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">First and Second Series, in crown 8vo, with Illustrations, 6s. each,<br /> +ANECDOTE BIOGRAPHY,<br /> +First Series, containing the Earl of Chatham and Burke.<br /> +Second Series, Hogarth, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Thomas Lawrence, +Gainsborough, and Fuseli.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">John Timbs</span>, F.S.A.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Fourth Thousand, Vols. 1 and 2, 8vo, with Plans, 28s.,<br /> +LORD DUNDONALD'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.</p> +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> + +<p class="cen">Cheaper Edition, 8vo, 10s. 6d.,<br /> +THE LATTER DAYS Of JERUSALEM AND ROME,<br /> +As revealed in Scripture.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Dominick M'Ausland</span>, LL.D.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Eighth Edition, small 8vo, with 19 Illustrations, 4s.,<br /> +SERMONS IN STONES; or, Scripture confirmed by Geology.<br /> +By Dr. <span class="smcap">M'Ausland</span>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Seventh Thousand, with numerous Illustrations, 2s. 6d.,<br /> +NOTES ON NOSES.<br /> +Hints towards a Classification of Noses.<br /> +"Worthy of Laurence Sterne."—<i>Morning Post.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.<br /> +Small 8vo, with a Map, 6s.,<br /> +AN ARCTIC BOAT JOURNEY IN THE AUTUMN OF 1854.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Isaac Hayes</span>, Surgeon to the Second Grinnell Expedition.<br /></p> + +<p>"There is something of a Robinson Crusoe character about this +narrative, which, in spite of the sufferings which it describes, +gives it a peculiar charm."—<i>Guardian.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Fifth Edition, post 8vo, 7s. 6d.,<br /> +RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION.</p> + +<p>A Popular Account of the Primary Principles, the Formation and +Development of the English Constitution, avoiding all Party Politics. +By Professor <span class="smcap">Creasy</span>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Twelfth Edition, 8vo, 12s.,<br /> +THE MODERN COOK.</p> + +<p>A Practical Guide to the Culinary Art in all its branches. +Adapted as well for the Largest Establishments as for the use of Private +Families. By <span class="smcap">Charles Elme Francatelli</span>.</p> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> + +<p class="cen">THE ONLY UNABRIDGED EDITION.<br /> +Small 8vo, 2s. 6d.,<br /> +LECTURES ON PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY; or, Earth and Man.<br /> +By ARNOLD GUYOT.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Third Edition, in crown 8vo, 6s.,<br /> +THE LIFE OF OLIVER CROMWELL.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">M. Guizot.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Third Edition, in small 8vo, printed cloth, 2s. 6d., or handsomely<br /> +bound, gilt edges, 4s.,<br /> +MADELINE: A Tale of Auvergne.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span>, Author of "Nathalie."</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">New Edition, in crown 8vo, with a Portrait of Nelson, 5s.,<br /> +MEMOIRS OF REMARKABLE CHARACTERS.<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Alphonse de Lamartine.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">With Frontispiece, and Vignette Title Page, price 5s.,<br /> +a New Edition of<br /> +RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS; or, Notes in Cornwall taken A-Foot.<br /> +To which is now first added, THE CRUISE OF THE TOMTIT<br /> +TO THE SCILLY ISLANDS.<br /> + +By <span class="smcap">W. Wilkie Collins</span>, Author of "The Woman in White," "Antonina."</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">NEW WORK BY MRS. ELLIS.<br /> +Second Edition, in small 8vo, 5s.,<br /> +CHAPTERS ON WIVES.<br /> + +Being Sketches of Married Life. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Ellis</span>, Author of "The Mothers of England."</p> + +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +<p class="cen">New Edition, price 2s. 6d.,<br /> +ESSAYS ON ART, LITERATURE, AND SOCIAL MORALS.<br /> +By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Jameson</span>, Author of "Legends of the Madonna."</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">New Edition, price 2s. 6d.,<br /> +SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL.<br /> +By the Author of "Salad for the Solitary."</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Small 8vo, New Edition, 5s.,<br /> +THE MOTHERS OF GREAT MEN.<br /> +By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Ellis</span>, Author of "Friends at their own Firesides."</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Third Edition, with Illustrations, price 5s.,<br /> +LIFE OF THE REV. HENRY POLEHAMPTON.<br /> +Chaplain of Lucknow. Edited by his Brothers.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Third Edition, crown 8vo, with Portrait of Miss Mitford, price 5s.,<br /> +RECOLLECTIONS OF A LITERARY LIFE.<br /> +With Selections from my favourite Poets and Prose writers. By<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary Russell Mitford.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p class="cen">Third Edition, in post 8vo, 7s. 6d.,<br /> +LIVES OF THE ITALIAN POETS.<br /> +By the Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Stebbing.</span></p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Transcriber's Note</p> +<br /> + +Some inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in +the original document has been preserved.<br /> +<br /> +Typographical errors corrected in the text:<br /> +<br /> +Page 73 quarteett changed to quartet<br /> +Page 145 matetials changed to materials<br /> +Page 163 Brobdignag changed to Brobdingnag<br /> +Page 193 venimous changed to venomous<br /> +Page 194 venimous changed to venomous<br /> +Page 205 followin changed to following<br /> +Page 207 is it changed to it is<br /> +Page 216 Colomb changed to Columb<br /> +Pate 233 Tintagell changed to Tintagel<br /> +Page 234 Excaliber changed to Excalibur<br /> +Page 247 puctuality changed to punctuality<br /> +Page 275 Miggott changed to Migott<br /> +Page 286 recal changed to recall<br /> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Rambles Beyond Railways;, by Wilkie Collins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS; *** + +***** This file should be named 28367-h.htm or 28367-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/6/28367/ + +Produced by David Clarke, Barbara Kosker and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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