CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
TELLS OF KING ARTHUR AND OTHER MORE OR LESS FABULOUS MATTERS.
Next day Oliver Trembath and his friend Charles Tregarthen, before thesun had mounted his own height above the horizon, were on their way tothe Land's End.
The young men were admirably suited to each other. Both were welleducated, and possessed similar tastes, though their temperaments weredissimilar, and both were strong athletic youths--Oliver's superiorityin this latter respect being at that time counterbalanced by his recentillness, which reduced him nearly to a level with his less robustcompanion.
Their converse was general and desultory until they reached the Land'sEnd, on the point of which they had resolved to breakfast.
"Now, Oliver, we have purchased an appetite," said Tregarthen, throwingdown a wallet in which he carried some provisions; "let us to work."
"Stay, Charlie, not here," said Oliver; "let us get out on the point,where we shall have a better view of the cliffs on either side of theLand's End. I love a wide, unobstructed view."
"As you will, Oliver; I leave you to select our table, but I pray you toremember that however steady your head may have been in days of yorewhen you scaled the Scottish mountains, the rough reception it has metwith in our Cornish mines has given it a shake that renders cautionnecessary."
"Pshaw! Charlie, don't talk to me of caution, as if I were a timid oldwoman."
"Nay, then, I talk of it because you are _not_ a timid old woman, but areckless young man who seems bent on committing suicide. Yonder is agrassy spot which I think will suit you well."
He pointed to a level patch of sward on the neck of land that connectsthe outlying and rugged promontory which forms the extreme Land's Endwith the cliffs of the mainland. Here they spread their meal, and fromthis point they could see the cliffs and bays of the iron-bound shoreextending on the one hand towards Cape Cornwall, and on the othertowards that most romantic part of the coast known by the somewhatcurious name of Tolpedenpenwith, where rocks and caverns are found insuch fantastic fashion that the spot has become justly celebrated forpicturesque grandeur. At their feet, far below, the great waves (causedby the swell, for there was no wind) boomed in solemn majesty,encircling the cliffs with a lace-work of foam, while on the horizon theScilly Islands could be seen shimmering faintly. A bright sun shone onthe unruffled sea, and hundreds of ships and boats lay becalmed on itsbreast.
"'Tis a splendid scene!" said Oliver, sitting down beside his friend.
"It is indeed, and reminds me of the sea of glass before the great whitethrone that we read of in Revelation. It is difficult to imagine or tobelieve that the peaceful water before us, lying between this spot andthe Scilly Islands yonder, was once a land full of verdure and life--yetsuch tradition tells us was the case."
"You mean, I suppose, the fabled land of Lionesse?" said Oliver.
"Yes; you have heard the story of its destruction, I suppose?"
"Not I," said Oliver, "so if you have a mind to tell it me while Isatisfy the cravings of an unusually sharp appetite I'll consider you amost obliging fellow. Pass me the knuckle of ham--thanks--and thebread; now go ahead."
"'Tis a romantic story," said Tregarthen.
"All the better," replied Oliver.
"And terrible," added Tregarthen.
"It won't spoil my appetite," said his friend.
"Well, then, I'll tell it--to the best of my ability." The youth thenbegan the following legend, pausing ever and anon during the narrationto swallow a piece of bread or a mouthful of cold tea, which constitutedthe principal elements of their frugal meal.
"You must know that, once upon a time, long, long ago, in those ancientdays before Norman or Dane had invaded this land, while Britain stillbelonged to the British, and King Arthur held his court in Tintagel'shalls, there was a goodly land, named Lethowsow or the Lionesse,extending a distance of thirty miles between this cape and yondershadowy islets which seem to float like cirrus clouds on the horizon.It is said that this land of Lionesse was rich and fertile, supportingmany hundreds of families, with large flocks and herds. There were nofewer than forty churches upon it, from which it follows that there musthave been a considerable population of well-doing people there.
"About the time of the events which I am going to narrate, King Arthur'sreign was drawing to a close. Treason had thinned the ranks of the onceunited and famous knights of the Round Table. It is true that Sir Kaye,the seneschal, remained true, and Sir Ector de Mans, and Sir Caradoc,and Sir Tristram, and Sir Lancelot of the Lake, of whom it was said that`he was the kindest man that ever struck with sword; and he was thegoodliest person that ever rode among the throng of knights; and he wasthe meekest man, and the gentlest, that did ever eat in hall amongladies; and he was the sternest knight to his mortal foe that ever laidlance in rest.' But many seats at the Round Table that once were filledby brave warriors had become empty, and among these, that of PrinceMordred, who, it was rumoured, meant to declare open war against hisroyal cousin and benefactor.
"One night King Arthur sat at the Round Table in Tintagel Castle withhis knights gathered round him, and Queen Guenever with her maidens byhis side. At the beginning of the feast the king's brow was clouded,for, although there was no lack of merriment or song, there was a wantof the free-hearted courtesy and confidence of former days. Still thesemblance of unabated good-fellowship was kept up, and the eveningpassed in gaiety until its close, when the king rose to retire. Takingin his hand a golden cup to pledge his guests, he was about to drink,when a shudder passed through his frame, and he cast the goblet away,exclaiming, `It is not wine, but blood! My father Merlin is among us,and there is evil in the coming days. Break we up our court, my peers!It is no time for feasting, but rather for fasting and for prayer.'
"The king glanced with a dark frown at the chair of his kinsman Mordred,but it was not empty! A strange, indistinct, shadowy form rested on it.It had no human shape, but a dreadful outline of something unearthly.Awe-struck and silent, the company at once broke up.
"On the following day, news of Mordred's revolt arrived at TintagelCastle, and day after day fresh rumours reached it of foes flocking innumbers to the rebel standard. The army increased as it advanced, but,strange to say, King Arthur showed no disposition to sally forth andmeet the traitor. It seemed as if his brave heart had quailed at last,and his good sword Excalibur had lost its magic virtue. Some thoughtthat he doubted the fidelity of those who still remained around him.But, whatever the cause might have been, King Arthur made nopreparation, and indicated no feeling or intention. He lay still in hiscastle until the rebels had approached to the very gates. There wassomething terrible in this mysterious silence of the king, which had atendency to overawe the rebels as they drew near, and remembered thatthey were about to match themselves against warriors who had grown oldin fellowship with victory.
"When the main body of the invaders appeared, the great bell of thefortress at last rang out a stirring peal, and before the barbican thetrumpets sounded to horse. King Arthur then with his knights andmen-at-arms, the best warriors of Britain, arose and sallied forth tofight in their last battle.
"Next evening a broken band of horsemen alone remained to tell of thedeath of their king and the destruction of all their hopes. Theynumbered several hundreds, but their hacked armour, jaded steeds, andgaping wounds told that they were unfit to offer battle to any foe.They were in full flight, bearing a torn banner, still wet with theblood of King Arthur; yet they fled unwillingly, as men who were unusedto retreat, and scarce knew how to comport them in the novelcircumstances. Their course was in the direction of the Lionesse, thetract of country called in the Cornish tongue Lethowsow. On theydashed, without uttering a word, over the bleak moors before them.Sometimes they halted to drink at a spring or tighten their girths, andoccasionally a man fell behind from sheer exhaustion. At night theyencamped, after a hard ride of thirty miles. Next morning the flightwas resumed, but the vindictive Mordred still thundered on
in pursuit.Ere long they heard a trumpet sounding in their rear, and King Arthur'smen halted for a few minutes, with the half-formed design of facing thefoe and selling their lives dearly. While they paused in gloomyirresolution, gazing sternly on the advancing host, whose arms flashedback the rays of the morning sun, a mist rose up between them and theirfoes. It was a strange shadowy mist, without distinct form, yet notwithout resemblance to something ghostly. The knights at oncerecognised it as the shade of Merlin, the Great Wizard! Slowly thecloud uprose between the pursuers and pursued, effectually protectingthe latter; nevertheless, although baffled, the former did not give upthe chase.
"At last Mordred reached a lofty slope, from the top of which hedescried his enemies retreating across the land of Lionesse. Mad withrage, he descended to the plain, where soft sunlight shone throughluxuriant glades and across the green pastures, gladdening the hearts ofman and beast. Nature was all peaceful, and gloriously beautiful, butMordred's eyes saw it not, his heart felt not the sweet influences. Thebitterness induced by hatred and an evil conscience reigned within, ashe urged his steed furiously onward.
"Suddenly a terrible change occurred in the atmosphere, which becameoppressively sultry and horrible, while low muttering thunders wereheard, and heavings of the earth felt. At the same time the cloudgradually condensed in front of Mordred, and, assuming a distinct form,stood before him in the person of Merlin the Wizard. For a few secondsthey stood face to face, frowning on each other in awful silence. ThenMerlin raised his arm, and immediately the thunders and confusedmutterings increased, until the earth began to undulate and rend as ifthe foundations of the world were destroyed. Great fissures appeared,and the rocks welled up like the waves of the sea. With a cry of agonythe pursuers turned to fly. But it was too late. Already the earth wasrent into fragments; it upheaved convulsively for a few seconds; thensank beneath the level of the deep, and the ocean rushed wildly over theland, leaving nothing behind to mark the spot where land had been, savethe peaked and barren rocks you see before you, with the surge beatingcontinually around them."
"A most extraordinary tale, truly," said Oliver. "Do you believe it hasany foundation?"
"I believe not the supernatural parts of it, of course," repliedTregarthen; "but there is _something_ in the fact that the land ofCornwall has unquestionably given up part of its soil to the sea. Youare aware, I suppose, that St. Michael's Mount, the most beautiful andprominent object in Mounts Bay, has been described as `a hoare rock in awood,' about six miles from the sea, although it now stands in the bay;and this idea of a sunken land is borne out by the unquestionable factthat if we dig down a few feet into the sand of the shore near Penzance,we shall come on a black vegetable mould, full of woodland _detritus_,such as branches, leaves of coppice wood, and nuts, together withcarbonised roots and trunks of forest trees of larger growth; and thesehave been found as far out as the lowest tide would permit men to dig!In addition to this, portions of land have been overwhelmed by the seanear Penzance, in the memory of men now alive."
"Hum!" said Oliver, stretching out his huge limbs like a giant baskingin the sunshine, "I dare say you are correct in your suppositions, but Ido not profess to be an antiquary, so that I won't dispute the subjectwith you. At the same time, I may observe that it does seem to me as ifthere were a screw loose somewhere in the historical part of yournarrative, for methinks I have read, heard, or dreamt, that King Arthurwas Mordred's uncle, not his cousin, and that Mordred was slain, andthat the king was the victor, at the fatal field of Camelford, althoughthe victory was purchased dearly--Arthur having been mortally woundedand carried back to Tintagel to die there. But, of course, I won'tpretend to doubt the truth of your narrative because of such triflingdiscrepancies. As to the encroachment of the sea on the Cornish coast,and the evidences thereof in Mounts Bay, I raise no objection thereto,but I cannot help thinking that we want stronger proof of the existenceof the land of Lionesse."
"Why, Oliver," said Tregarthen, laughing, "you began by saying that youwould not dispute the subject with me, and in two minutes you have saidenough to have justified a regular attack on my part, had I been sodisposed. However, we have a long road before us, so I must protestagainst a passage of arms just now."
Having finished breakfast, the two friends proceeded along the coast afew miles to Tolpedenpenwith. Here, in the midst of the finest sceneryon the coast, they spent the greater part of the day, and then proceededto Penberth Cove, intending to secure a lodging for the night, ordersupper, and, while that was in preparation, pay a visit to the famousLogan Rock.
Penberth Cove is one of the prettiest little vales in the west ofCornwall. It is enriched with groups of trees and picturesque cottages,and possesses a luxuriant growth of shrubs and underwood, that almostconceals from view the streamlet, which is the chief cause of itsfertility.
There were also, at the time we write of, one or two houses which,although not public inns, were open for the entertainment of travellersin a semi-private fashion. Here, therefore, our excursionistsdetermined to put up for the night, with the widow of a fisherman whohad perished in a storm while engaged in the herring fishery off theIrish coast. This good woman's chief physical characteristic wasrotundity, and her prominent mental attribute good-humour. She at oncereceived the gentlemen hospitably, and promised to prepare supper forthem while they went to visit the far-famed Logan or Logging Rock, whichlay in the vicinity.
This rock is one of those freaks of nature which furnish food forantiquaries, points of interest to strangers, and occupation to guides.Every one who goes to the Land's End must needs visit the Logan Rock, ifhe would "do" the country properly; and if our book were a "Guide toCornwall," we should feel bound to describe it with much particularity,referring to its size, form, weight, and rocking quality, besidesenlarging on the memorable incident in its career, when a wild officerof the navy displaced it from its pivot by means of seamen and crowbars,and was thereafter ordered to replace it (a herculean task, which heaccomplished at great cost) on pain of we know not what penalties. But,as we make no pretensions to the important office of a guide, we passthis lion by, with the remark that Oliver and his friend visited it androcked it, and then went back to Penberth Cove to sup on pilchards,after which followed a chat, then bed, sound sleep, daybreak andbreakfast, and, finally, the road to Penzance, with bright sunshine,light hearts, and the music of a hundred larks ringing in the sky.