Cornwall's Wonderland

In Short

This book is a curated anthology of Cornish folklore, ranging from the brutish humor of prehistoric giants to the delicate, often perilous grace of fairy encounters and the mournful echoes of Arthurian romance. By smoothing the edges of dense, impenetrable dialect, the author preserves these oral traditions for a new generation. The collection endures because it balances the whimsical with the haunting; it captures a specific regional identity—a place defined by isolation, rugged cliffs, and a deep-seated belief in the invisible world that persists alongside daily labor.

The Story

The narrative arc begins in the dawn of time, when Cornwall is a bleak wilderness held by giants. We see the arrival of the Trojan hero Corineus, who tames this landscape by outwitting and defeating the giants in physical combat, setting a tone of human resilience against impossible odds. From these epic foundations, the focus shifts to the intimate, domestic sphere of the supernatural. We encounter characters like Cherry Honey, a spirited girl whose curiosity leads her to accidentally witness the hidden activities of the "Little People," and Joan, who survives a harrowing, spectral ride across the moors.

As the collection progresses, the stories darken. We move from the playful pranks of fairies—who might vanish after a single touch—to the more predatory figures of local history. The wrecker Madge Figgy exemplifies a ruthless, mercenary spirit, while "Cruel Coppinger," a Danish pirate, establishes a reign of terror that reflects the brutal realities of coastal life. The collection builds toward its emotional peak with the legend of Sir Tristram and La Belle Iseult. Here, the folklore loses its whimsical spark, replaced by the weight of a fatal love-potion. Tristram, caught between his duty to King Mark and his devotion to Iseult, finds his life torn apart by a series of impossible vows and geopolitical betrayals.

The ending is deeply melancholic. Tristram, wounded and despairing, waits for his beloved to reach him from across the sea. His wife, Iseult la Blanche Mains, consumed by jealousy, lies to him about the color of the arriving ship’s sails, telling him they are black to signal that his lover has not come. Tristram dies of a broken heart just moments before the true Iseult arrives. Upon seeing his body, she too expires, and the two are finally united only in death. Their burial in a shared chapel serves as the final, somber note, cementing the idea that in these tales, the greatest power is not held by giants or fairies, but by the relentless, tragic pull of human devotion.

How It Unfolds

The foundations of the land The collection opens with the arrival of Trojan settlers who must literally wrestle the giants for control of the peninsula. These tales establish a mythic history where the landscape itself is shaped by the physical struggle between invaders and the monstrous natives.

The threshold of the invisible The middle section transitions to the domestic and the uncanny, where ordinary people like Cherry and Anne stumble upon fairy revels. These encounters are characterized by sensory overload—flashing gems, exquisite music, and, inevitably, the price of seeing too much.

The shadow of greed and cruelty The focus shifts to the human cost of living on a rugged, lawless coast, featuring wreckers and pirates who prey on the vulnerable. These stories strip away the fairy-tale veneer to reveal the harsh, opportunistic survivalism of the Cornish coast.

The finality of romance The book concludes with the extended saga of Tristram and Iseult, which acts as a grand finale. This narrative provides a psychological depth that the earlier myths lack, grounding the fantastic elements in the raw, destructive power of human longing.

The People

Corineus serves as the archetype of the conqueror—strong, pragmatic, and unyielding. He represents the triumph of civilization over the chaotic, mindless force of the giants, who are portrayed as blustering, dim-witted obstacles to progress.

Cherry Honey and Anne are the quintessential witnesses. They represent the human hunger for experience and the dangerous curiosity that defines the common folk of these tales. Their lives are irrevocably changed by their brushes with the supernatural, leaving them forever marked by secrets they can neither fully comprehend nor fully forget.

Madge Figgy and Cruel Coppinger stand as the book’s antagonists, representing the dark heart of the coast. Madge is a figure of predatory wisdom, using her status as a "witch" to manipulate her peers, while Coppinger is a force of pure, unchecked avarice. They are not merely villains; they are products of a harsh environment where gold and survival are the only moral compasses.

Sir Tristram is the book’s tragic heart. He wants only to be a noble, loyal knight, but he is constantly thwarted by the external forces of courtly politics and the internal, magical compulsion of the love-potion. Opposite him, Iseult of Cornwall is the embodiment of tragic grace, while his wife, Iseult la Blanche Mains, represents the devastating turn from love to hate. Their story is one of total loss, where the protagonists end up as hollow shells of their former selves, eventually finding peace only in the grave.

In Its Own Voice

The author acknowledges the difficulty of translating the local speech, which often obscures the heart of the narrative.

With a vivid recollection of the keen enjoyment I myself found in the strange and wonderful Romances and Legends of Old Cornwall, now so rapidly being forgotten; with a remembrance too of the numerous long and involved paragraphs--even pages--that I skipped, as being prosy or unintelligible, written as they were in a dialect often untranslatable even by a Cornish child, I have here tried to present a few of these tales in simpler form, to suit not only Cornish children, but those of all parts.

This passage from the preface explains the editorial mission, highlighting the tension between preserving cultural heritage and making it accessible.

The ladies, all of whom had dark hair, were clad in white velvet lined with the palest violet silk, while round the hems of the skirts and on the bodices were bands of soft white swansdown.

This vivid, sensory description appears during a scene where a fairy procession emerges from the earth, capturing the intense, jewel-toned visual language that permeates the book’s description of the supernatural.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book explores the concept of the "other." Whether it is the ancient giant, the otherworldly fairy, or the foreign lover, the stories are concerned with the friction that occurs when the known world collides with something inexplicable or alien. It asks how a small, isolated community survives when it is constantly besieged—not just by storms and wreckers, but by the weight of its own long, sorrowful history. The recurring question is the price of knowledge: is it better to live in ignorance, or to see the "Little People" and the secrets of the sea, even if that sight results in blindness, heartbreak, or death? The book suggests that to truly know the world, one must be prepared to be broken by it.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the atmosphere of dark, coastal folklore and the melancholy of Arthurian tragedy will find much to admire here. There is a distinct, rhythmic quality to the prose that feels like a storyteller speaking by a fireside, making the most fantastical elements feel grounded and real. The descriptions of the Cornish landscape—the desolate moors, the treacherous coves, and the churning Atlantic—provide a vivid backdrop that remains evocative long after the final page is turned.

However, a modern reader should be prepared for the period-typical sentimentality. The author’s attempt to simplify the dialect for "children of all parts" occasionally results in a tone that feels overly didactic or patronizing by contemporary standards. Furthermore, the attitudes toward gender—particularly the depiction of inquisitive women as the architects of their own misfortune—reflect the early 20th-century sensibilities of the original publication. While the stories themselves are rich and timeless, the narrative framing can feel a bit dated. Nevertheless, for those interested in how a culture constructs its own mythology, this collection is an invaluable artifact. It captures the spirit of a place that feels as if it exists on the edge of the map, and it succeeds in passing on the haunting, fragile echoes of stories that would otherwise vanish into the sea mist.