The line of railway which goes to the far west of England is one of the prettiest in the kingdom on a fine day, which we were again blessed with. It had been a wet summer, we heard, throughout Cornwall, but in all our journey, save that one wild storm at the Lizard3, sunshine scarcely ever failed us. Now—whether catching4 glimpses of St. Ives Bay or sweeping5 through the mining district of Redruth, and the wooded country near Truro, Grampound, and St. Austell, till we again saw the glittering sea on the other side of Cornwall—all was brightness. Then darting6 inland once more, our iron horse carried us past Lostwithiel, the little town which once boasted Joseph Addison, M.P., as its representative; gave us a fleeting7 vision of Ristormel, one of the ancient castles of Cornwall, and on through a leafy land, beginning to change from rich green to the still richer yellows and reds of autumn, till we stopped at Bodmin Road.
No difficulty in finding our carriage, for it was the only one there; a huge vehicle, of ancient build, the horses to match, capable of accommodating a whole family and its luggage. We missed our compact little machine, and our brisk, kindly Charles, but soon settled ourselves in dignified8, roomy state, for the twenty miles, or rather more, which lay between us and the coast. Our way ran along lonely quiet country roads and woods almost as green as when Queen Guinevere rode through them "a maying," before the dark days of her sin and King Arthur's death.
Here it occurs to me, as it did this day to a practical youthful mind, "What in the world do people know about King Arthur?"
Well, most people have read Tennyson, and a few are acquainted with the "Morte d'Arthur" of Sir Thomas Malory. But, perhaps I had better briefly9 give the story, or as much of it as is necessary for the edification of outsiders.
Uther Pendragon, King of Britain, falling in love with Ygrayne, wife of the duke of Cornwall, besieged10 them in their twin castles of Tintagel and Terrabil, slew11 the husband, and the same day married the wife. Unto whom a boy was born, and by advice of the enchanter Merlin, carried away, from the sea-shore beneath Tintagel, and confided13 to a good knight14, Sir Ector, to be brought up as his own son, and christened Arthur. On the death of the king, Merlin produced the youth, who was recognized by his mother Ygrayne, and proclaimed king in the stead of Uther Pendragon. He instituted the Order of Knights15 of the Round Table, who were to go everywhere, punishing vice12 and rescuing oppressed virtue16, for the love of God and of some noble lady. He married Guinevere, daughter of King Leodegrance, who forsook17 him for the love of Sir Launcelot, his bravest knight and dearest friend. One by one, his best knights fell away into sin, and his nephew Mordred raised a rebellion, fought with him, and conquered him at Camelford. Seeing his end was near, Arthur bade his last faithful knight, Sir Bedevere, carry him to the shore of a mere18 (supposed to be Dozmare Pool) and throw in there his sword Excalibur; when appeared a boat with three queens, who lifted him in, mourning over him. With them he sailed away across the mere, to be healed of his grievous wound. Some say that he was afterwards buried in a chapel19 near, others declare that he lives still in fairy land, and will reappear in latter days, to reinstate the Order of Knights of the Round Table, and rule his beloved England, which will then be perfect as he once tried to make it, but in vain.
Camelford of to-day is certainly not the Camelot of King Arthur—but a very respectable, commonplace little town, much like other country towns; the same genteel linendrapers' and un-genteel ironmongers' shops; the same old-established commercial inn, and a few ugly, but solid-looking private houses, with their faces to the street and their backs nestled in gardens and fields. Some of the inhabitants of these said houses were to be seen taking a quiet afternoon stroll. Doubtless they are eminently20 respectable and worthy21 folk, leading a mild provincial22 life like the people in Miss Martineau's Deerbrook, or Miss Austen's Pride and Prejudice—of which latter quality they have probably a good share.
We let our horses rest, but we ourselves felt not the slightest wish to rest at Camelford, so walked leisurely23 on till we came to the little river Camel, and to Slaughter24 Bridge, said to be the point where King Arthur's army was routed and where he received his death-wound. A slab25 of stone, some little distance up the stream, is still called "King Arthur's Tomb." But as his coffin26 is preserved, as well as his Round Table, at Winchester; where, according to mediæval tradition, the bodies of both Arthur and Guinevere were found, and the head of Guinevere had yellow hair; also that near the little village of Davidstow, is a long barrow, having in the centre a mound27, which is called "King Arthur's grave"—inquiring minds have plenty of "facts" to choose from. Possibly at last they had better resort to fiction, and believe in Arthur's disappearance28, as Tennyson makes him say,
"To the island-valley of Avillion ...
Where I may heal me of my grievous wound."
Dozmare Pool we found so far out of our route that we had to make a virtue of necessity, and imagine it all; the melancholy29 moorland lake, with the bleak30 hill above it, and stray glimpses of the sea beyond. A ghostly spot, and full of many ghostly stories besides the legend of Arthur. Here Tregeagle, the great demon31 of Cornwall, once had his dwelling32, until, selling his soul to the devil, his home was sunk to the bottom of the mere, and himself is heard of stormy nights, wailing33 round it with other ghost-demons, in which the Cornish mind still lingeringly believes. Visionary packs of hounds; a shadowy coach and horses, which drives round and round the pool, and then drives into it; flitting lights, kindled34 by no human hand, in places where no human foot could go—all these tales are still told by the country folk, and we might have heard them all. Might also have seen, in fancy, the flash of the "brand Excalibur"; heard the wailing song of the three queens; and pictured the dying Arthur lying on the lap of his sister Morgane la Faye. But, I forgot, this is an un-sentimental journey.
The Delabole quarries35 are as un-sentimental a place as one could desire. It was very curious to come suddenly upon this world of slate36, piled up in enormous masses on either side the road, and beyond them hills of debris37, centuries old—for the mines have been worked ever since the time of Queen Elizabeth. Houses, walls, gates, fences, everything that can possibly be made of slate, is made. No green or other colour tempers the all-pervading shade of bluish-grey, for vegetation in the immediate38 vicinity of the quarries is abolished, the result of which would be rather dreary39, save for the cheerful atmosphere of wholesome40 labour, the noise of waggons41, horses, steam-engines—such a contrast to the silence of the deserted42 tin-mines.
But, these Delabole quarries passed, silence and solitude43 come back again. Even the yearly-increasing influx44 of tourists fails to make the little village of Trevena anything but a village, where the said tourists lounge about in the one street, if it can be called a street, between the two inns and the often-painted, picturesque45 old post-office. Everything looked so simple, so home-like, that we were amused to find we had to get ready for a table d'hôte dinner, in the only available eating room where the one indefatigable46 waitress, a comely47 Cornish girl, who seemed Argus and Briareus rolled into one, served us—a party small enough to make conversation general, and pleasant and intelligent enough to make it very agreeable, which does not always happen at an English hotel.
Then we sallied out to find the lane which leads to Tintagel Castle, or Castles—for one sits in the sea, the other on the opposite heights in the mainland, with power of communicating by the narrow causeway which now at least exists between the rock and the shore. This seems to confirm the legend, how the luckless husband of Ygrayne shut up himself and his wife in two castles, he being slain48 in the one, and she married to the victorious49 King Uther Pendragon, in the other.
Both looked so steep and dangerous in the fast-coming twilight50 that we thought it best to attempt neither, so contented51 ourselves with a walk on the cliffs and the smooth green field which led thither52. Leaning against a gate, we stood and watched one of the grandest out of the many grand sunsets which had blessed us in Cornwall. The black rock of Tintagel filled the foreground; beyond, the eye saw nothing but sea, the sea which covers vanished Lyonesse, until it met the sky, a clear amber53 with long bars like waves, so that you could hardly tell where sea ended and sky began. Then into it there swam slowly a long low cloud, shaped like a boat, with a raised prow54, and two or three figures sitting at the stern.
"King Arthur and the three queens," we declared, and really a very moderate imagination could have fancied it this. "But what is that long black thing at the bow?"
"Oh," observed drily the most practical of the three, "it's King Arthur's luggage."
Sentiment could survive no more. We fell into fits of laughter, and went home to tea and bed.
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1
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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3
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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6
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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7
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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8
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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10
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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12
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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13
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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14
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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16
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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17
forsook
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| forsake的过去式 | |
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18
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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19
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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20
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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21
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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22
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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23
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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24
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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25
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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26
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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27
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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28
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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29
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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30
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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31
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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32
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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33
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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34
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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35
quarries
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| n.（采）石场( quarry的名词复数 )；猎物（指鸟，兽等）；方形石；（格窗等的）方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
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36
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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37
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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38
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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39
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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40
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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41
waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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42
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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43
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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44
influx
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| n.流入，注入 | |
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45
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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46
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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47
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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48
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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49
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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50
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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51
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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52
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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53
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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54
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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