Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-10-05
KING ARTHUR'S LAND.
Glints of Quaint Contrasting Scenes
on the Cornish Coast
AMONG PILCHARD FISHER-FOLK.
The hoOrlands, Lands End, Lizard Head,
st. Ives and First Inns.
DESCRIPTION BRINGS THEM UP TO YOU
icoRnEsroSpExcE OF THE D1srATcH.I

ST. IVES, CORNWALL, September 2O.-
copyright l-Jutting far out from England
into the furious Atlantic is bit of rock
buttressed land of most singular shape
which sustains a distinct and interesting
people. Its geographic contour suggests
the curious silhouette of some couchant
gigantic mastif, or huge wild beast 1t is
easy to see in its southernmost outreaching,
its two powerful fore feet; in its northern
coast line its braced and bristling back; in
its most northern projection an erect and
pugnacious tail; in its eastern Devonshire
boundary its massive launches and hind
feet wedged against the eternal granite of
Devon; and in its farthermost sea-split,
ocean-battling promontory, the open mouth
Of the leviathan, set savagely toward the
seething Scilly Isles, and forever lashed
with spume and foam of interminable and
indescribabie battles with the elements.
Standing upon Hensbsrrow, one of its
drear and highest peaks, one can see smiling
Devon to the east; almost to Lands End,
its iartnest westward wall; to Lizard Head,
its remotest southern headland; across its
entire reach OF hills and moorlands far out
upon st. Georges Channel to the north
west, and over the white sails of fisher and
coaster to the southeast, where the savage
sea lashes and fumes in vain about that
most furious of all mariners beacons, the
wondrOus Eddystone Light
THE DEsoLATE MooRLANDs.
But standing there, with all this majestic
cvclorama before you, desolation only is ap-
parent to the eve. The moorlands stretch
dolorously as if in boundless loneliness.
The tors or hills are bleak and bare, The
whole face of nature seems torn and SCARED,
as by tremendous elemental struggles. A
myriad kissing fragments of exploded plan
cts hurled in awful upper rain upon this
land could have left no more unsightly
hurts upon it. Yet ali these caverns and
chasms which disfgure it were made by the
hand of man. Its granite, shale and slate
hide copper, tin and iron. For more than
5000 years its surface has been cleft, and its
depths gored and bored, until its face is
pitted as if with extinct volcanoes whose
bases were honeycombed to a miles depth,
and, latterly, so far outward beneath the
ocean that its very shell was cracked and
broken, until, to prevent the sea dropping
through, the bottom was stuffed and plugged
and soldered like leaky basinl
Almost until to-day, as time is measured,
this land to the rest of England was a yerit-
able terra incognita. "West Barbary" it
was called to ftly describe its uncanniness,
its supposed ignorance and its popularity ac-
credited semi-barbarism. What weird and
desolate Connamara in Ireland's wild West,
is and has always been to the Green Isle,
this Scared and ragged peninsula has been
to England.
COLONY DOOMED TO DIG,
OF Its 100000 souls, one-eighth, from
youth to death, in darkness pick and blast
in shift and drift beneath its wind-swept
moors. Until century since distinct Ian
guage was spoken, preached and taught
To-day in the larger towns ''the purest En-
glish spoken" is said to prevail; but again
to-day not league from these towns among
fisher folk, miners and peasants, an ordinary
EngliShman or American can scarcely un-
derstand word uttered. Yet here are life
and scene of the greatest fascination; both
life and scene OF simplicity, beauty and
grandeur; while romance and legend glow
wondrously in every tor, combe and stream;
romance and legend the Oldest and most win
some in all England. For here lived, or
were born to deathless legend, Arthur.
Launcelot and Gunevere, and the brave old
Round Table Knights. This wild and
sturdy land is King Arthur's Land. 1t is
Cornwall.
No matter what queer, quaint places 1
passed through to get there, but following
the old canal from Launceston, began nv
journey around the Cornwall coast from the
little seaport bathing place of Bude, on
Bude Bay, not more than two leagues from
the northern boundary OF King Arthur's
Land. Beyond this, for a dreary distance
above you, stretch treeless downs, below YOU
are Jagged cliffs, and beyond these nothing
but myriads of sea-fowl and the messureless
sea.
WILD AND DREAR TINTAGEL.
Further down the coast you come as to a
Mecca of hallowed romance, to wild and
drear Tintagel. What matter it whether ro-
nance or fact coined the sterling gold that
rings through the legend old? Call it fact
because it was good, and made stainless
king" So there before you on that wave |
dashed, almost island promontory, stands |
to-day the still easily traced remains of Tin |
tagel of old.
Here was the very landing place of King |
Uther. Here Uther Pendragon besieged |
the Duke OF Cornwall in his twin castles, |
TIntagel and Terrabil, slew him, and the |
same day married the dead Dukes wailing |
wife, Ygrayne, to whom in time bow was |
born. The enchanter, Merlin, reared the |
child, Arthur, under good Sir Ector's care,
and restored to him the kingdom of |
Cornwall on Pendragon's death. The |
noble Arthur instituted the Order of knights |
OF the Round Table, whose sanity acts, in
the service Of God and man, until thev fell |
into sin, are the most shining deeds of all |
tradition; he loved only and married Gum |
evere, whom Launcelot, his dearest friend
betrayed; and at last, receiving his death |
wound in the battle with his rebellious |
nephew's forces just over there at Camel |
ford, but two leagues from where you stand |
in the ruins of Tiniagel, Arthur bade his |
last royal knight, Sir Bedever, carry him to |
Dozmsre Pool-also but a little distance
away, where the Cornish demon Tregeaple |
once had his dwelling-fing his sword |
Excslibur therein, when boat rowed by |
three queens appeared. These queens. lift |
sailed away over the mere to the ''island
valley of Avillion" that his "greiyous
wound might be healed"
ARTHUR's GRAVE AND A LEGEND.
All about you, if you wander inland. are
sweet country roads, as quiet and lonely and
as green and odorous with foliage as when
Queen Guineyere rode through them ga
Maying" before she sinned and Arthur fell.
Everyone hereabout will tell you King
Arthur lies buried In the long. low mound
on the high desolate moor midway between
Tintagel and Launceston; but prefer to be-
lieve, with the Cornish fsher-folk know.
that be sailed away to Avillion; is still in
fairyland; that his spirit often hovers with
pathetic murmurings over the old scenes in
the form of q bird, the chough, which coast
wise people venerate, and that he will surely
s'come again"
s'Wearing the white flower Of blameless life,m
10 reign as a King should and might over
/.