A book of the west. Volume 2, Cornwall

In Short

This volume serves as a comprehensive, wandering guide to the geography and culture of Cornwall. It functions as a blend of topographical survey, hagiography, and social history, examining everything from prehistoric hill forts and medieval holy wells to the decline of the tin-mining industry. By documenting the peculiar intersections of Celtic legend and Victorian reality, the book preserves a portrait of a distinct region before it became a modernized tourist destination. Its enduring value lies in its preservation of oral histories, local dialect nuances, and a vanishing sense of place.

The Story

The narrative begins by grounding the reader in the early spiritual geography of Cornwall. The author treats the arrival of Celtic saints—figures like Petrock, Mawes, and Winwaloe—not merely as historical footnotes, but as foundational architects of Cornish identity. Through accounts of their wanderings, their shelters in beehive huts, and their complicated, often violent migrations from Wales and Brittany, the book establishes the region as a bastion of resistance.

From these sacred origins, the focus shifts to the physical scars of the land. The author moves through the landscape, systematically categorizing the "castles" of Cornwall—the ancient earthworks and stone forts that dot the coastline. He details the transition from the simple, circular camps of the Celts to the more complex, fortified burhs of the Saxon era. This transition serves as a bridge to the economic history of the region. The narrative takes a pragmatic turn as it discusses the rise and fall of Cornish tin mining. The author paints a bleak picture of the "hideous" engine-houses that litter the moors, lamenting the displacement of the Cornish miner who, driven by the volatility of the industry and the corruption of mining companies, is forced to seek his fortune abroad.

As the journey continues, the tone shifts from industrial melancholy to the lighter, more eccentric elements of coastal life. The author recounts the antics of local figures, such as the colorful, mule-riding vicar of Morwenstow, who delighted in hoaxing visitors with tales of ancient vestments that were, in truth, merely blankets. The story delves into the survival of unique rituals, such as the May Day processions in Padstow, where the "hobby-horse" still prances, and the stubborn persistence of the Cornish language, exemplified by the account of Dolly Pentreath, one of the last known native speakers.

The book concludes by examining the region’s relationship with its own history. Whether describing the submerged forests of Mount’s Bay or the legendary, sunken churches lost to the sea, the author emphasizes the theme of continuity. Even as the mines close and the old ways of speaking fade, he finds a lingering, defiant spirit in the Cornish people—a sense of "One and All" that binds the community across the centuries. The ending is not a finality but a reflection on a living heritage, where the "lotus-land" climate of the south coast offers a peaceful, if slightly enervating, coda to the rugged, stone-strewn history of the north.

How It Unfolds

The saints arrive. The author introduces the early holy men of Cornwall, detailing their ascetic trials, their tender relationships with animals, and their role in establishing the religious landscape of the peninsula.

The landscape of conflict. The narrative shifts to an analysis of hill forts, explaining how to identify ancient camps and distinguishing between Roman, Saxon, and Celtic defensive structures.

The mining decline. A sober examination of the collapse of the tin industry reveals the social and economic consequences, describing the desolate ruins of engine-houses and the migration of the workforce.

Local legends and ghosts. The author recounts folklore associated with sites like the Cheesewring, blending archaeological observation with the persistent, colorful myths of Druids and buried treasures.

The life of the parson. A profile of the eccentric vicar of Morwenstow illustrates the blend of genuine piety and theatrical trickery prevalent in the rural clergy of the period.

Coastal rituals. The exploration of Padstow’s May Day customs highlights the survival of ancient, possibly pagan, traditions in the face of modern encroaching influences.

The vanishing tongue. The book concludes with the story of the last Cornish speakers, providing a poignant look at the erosion of a cultural identity that nonetheless remains embedded in the land.

The People

The book is populated by a cast that bridges the gap between historical legend and living, breathing subjects. The Celtic saints, such as S. Petrock and S. Mawes, are the primary figures of the opening, characterized by their desire to establish sanctuaries in a hostile, untamed wilderness. They are followed by the "real" people of the author's own experience—the miners who endure economic betrayal and the "lotus-eaters" who enjoy the mild climate of Falmouth.

One of the most vivid characters is the Reverend R.S. Hawker of Morwenstow. He is driven by a desire to embody the ancient traditions of the church, yet he is also a man of mischievous humor, constantly testing the gullibility of his visitors with his fabricated legends. In contrast, figures like Dolly Pentreath represent the quiet, stubborn endurance of the Cornish spirit. She stands as the last guardian of a language that others have long abandoned. Finally, the "Cornish miner" serves as a collective protagonist, a resilient wanderer who leaves his home to work in foreign lands, only to return with the goal of building a house and keeping his small, close-knit community together. Each figure, whether mythical saint or humble villager, represents a different facet of the struggle to maintain a Cornish identity against the tides of time.

In Its Own Voice

“How is it,” asked one of his disciples, “that the birds avoid us and gather round you?”

The author uses this exchange to illustrate the gentle, almost mystical connection between the early saints and the natural world.

“This will never do,” said he; “I shall move my quarters to the roadside.”

This quote highlights the practical, compassionate nature of the early religious figures who prioritized the needs of travelers over their own ascetic seclusion.

“I wouldn’t wear your livery, Martyn,” said he, “nor your political colours, so I have got a yellow poncho.”

This captures the sly wit of the vicar of Morwenstow, who turned a simple blanket into a prop for his legendary persona.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an argument for the significance of regional distinctiveness. It explores the tension between a profound, almost primal attachment to the land and the inevitability of change. Through the lens of Cornish history, the author poses questions about what defines a people: is it the soil, the language, the ruins, or the myths one tells about the past? He suggests that Cornwall is a place where these elements are inextricably linked, creating a unique "Cornish principle" of unity. The book is not merely about topography; it is an investigation into the persistent survival of a culture that refuses to be fully absorbed by the modern, standardized world.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate a deep, contemplative dive into local history, folklore, and the rugged, unvarnished beauty of the British landscape will find this book deeply rewarding. It is written with a warmth that makes the reader feel like a traveling companion to the author, walking along windswept cliffs and descending into the quiet, forgotten corners of old village churches. However, it is a product of its time; the reader must be prepared for the author’s occasional Victorian moralizing and the dense, sometimes meandering prose characteristic of the late nineteenth century.

The dialect sections and the references to long-forgotten mining disputes may be challenging for those seeking a light, modern travel guide. Yet, the reward for this effort is a vivid, atmospheric experience that few contemporary books can replicate. The passages about the submerged forests, the "hobby-horse" dances, and the hauntingly beautiful, desolate engine-houses stay with you long after the final page is turned. It is a book that captures the melancholy of loss alongside the vitality of survival, making it a timeless choice for anyone interested in how the past continues to live in the present.