CHAPTER NINETEEN.
SMALL TALK AND SOME ACCOUNT OF CORNISH FAIRIES.
"What a splendid country for a painter of cliffs!" observed Oliver, asthe friends walked briskly along; "I wonder much that our artists do notvisit it more frequently."
"Perhaps they find metal more attractive nearer home," repliedTregarthen; "all the world has not fallen so violently in love withfurze-clad moorland and rugged sea-cliffs as you seem to have done.Besides, the country is somewhat remote. Mayhap when a railway runsinto it, which will doubtless be the case before many years pass by, weshall see knights of the brush pitching their white tents on the Land'sEnd; meanwhile we have a few promising young men of our own who bid fairto rival the great Opie himself. You have heard of him, of course?"
"I have heard of him indeed, and seen some of his works, but I'm ashamedto confess that, having left Cornwall when very young, and been adweller in the far north of the kingdom ever since, I have only knownthe facts that he was a celebrated Cornish artist, and became thePresident of the Royal Academy. Can you tell me anything of hispersonal history?"
"Not much, but I can give you a brief outline of his career. John Opiewas the son of a carpenter of St. Agnes, near Truro, and was discoveredand extracted, like a `bunch' of rich ore, from the midst of thetin-mines, by Dr Wolcot--who was celebrated under the name of PeterPindar. The doctor first observed and appreciated Opie's talent, and,resolving to bring him into notice, wrote about him until he becamecelebrated as the `Cornish Wonder.' He also introduced people of noteto the artist's studio in London, many of whom sat for their portraits.These gave so much satisfaction that the reputation of the `CornishWonder' spread far and wide, and orders came pouring in upon him,insomuch that he became a rich man and a Royal Academician, andultimately President of the Academy. He married an authoress, and hisremains were deposited in St. Paul's Cathedral, near to those of SirJoshua Reynolds. I have heard my grandfather say that he met him oncein the town of Helston, and he described him as somewhat rough andunpolished, but a sterling, kind-hearted man."
"Did he paint landscape at all?" inquired Oliver.
"Not much, I believe. He devoted himself chiefly to portraits."
"Well, now," said Oliver, looking round him; "it strikes me that this isjust the country for a landscape painter. There is nowhere else suchfine cliff scenery, and the wild moors, which remind me much ofScotland, are worthy of being sketched by an able brush."
"People have curiously different opinions in reference to the moorswhich you admire so much," said Tregarthen. "A clergyman who lived andwrote not very long ago, came to Cornwall in search of the picturesque,and he was so disappointed with what he termed a barren, desolateregion, that he stopped suddenly on the road between Launceston andBodmin, and turned his back on Cornwall for ever. As might be expected,such a man gave a very false idea of the country. On the other hand, amore recent writer, commenting on the first, speaks of his delight--after having grown somewhat tired of the almost too rich andover-cultivated scenery of Kent--on coming to what he styled `a sombreapparition of the desert in a corner of green England,' and dwells withenthusiasm on `these solitudes, and hills crowned with rugged rocks,classical heaths and savage ravines, possessing a character of desolategrandeur.' But this writer did more. He travelled through the country,and discovered that it possessed other and not less beautiful features;that there were richly clothed vales and beautiful rivulets, cultivatedfields and prolific gardens, in close proximity to our grand cliffs andmoors."
"He might have added," said Oliver, "that plants and flowers flourish inthe open air here, and attain to a size, and luxuriance which are rarein other parts of England. Why, I have seen myrtles, laurels, fuchsias,pomegranates, and hortensias forming hedges and growing on the windowsand walls of many houses. To my mind Cornwall is one of the finestcounties in England--of which Flora herself has reason to be proud, andin which fairies as well as giants might dwell with much delight."
"Spoken like a true Cornishman!" said Tregarthen, laughing; "and inregard to the fairies I may tell you that we are not without a few ofthem, although giants confessedly preponderate."
"Indeed!" said Oliver; "pray whereabouts do they dwell?"
"You have heard of the Gump, I suppose?"
"What! the barren plain near Carn Kenidjack, to the north of St. Just?"
"The same. Well, this is said to be a celebrated haunt of the pixies,who have often led benighted travellers astray, and shown them wonderfulsights. Of course one never meets with any individual who has actuallyseen them, but I have frequently met with those who have assured me theyhad known others who had conversed with persons who had seen fairies.One old man, in particular, I have heard of, who was quite convinced ofthe reality of a fairy scene which he once witnessed.
"This old fellow was crossing the Gump one evening, by one of thenumerous paths which intersect it. It was summer-time. The sun hadgone down beyond the sea-line, and the golden mists of evening weremerging into the quiet grey that hung over the Atlantic. Not a breathof wind passed over land or sea. To the northward Chun Castle stooddarkly on the summit of the neighbouring hill, and the cromlech loomedhuge and mysterious; southward were traces of mystic circles and uprightstones, and other of those inexplicable pieces of antiquity which areusually saddled on the overladen shoulders of the Druids. Everything,in fact--in the scene, the season, and the weather--contributed to fillthe mind of the old man with romantic musings as he wended his way overthe barren moor. Suddenly there arose on the air a sound of sweet, softmusic, like the gentle breathings of an Aeolian harp. He stopped andgazed around with looks of mingled curiosity and surprise, but could seenothing unusual. The mysterious sounds continued, and a feeling ofalarm stole over him, for twilight was deepening, and home was still fardistant. He attempted to advance, but the music had such a charm forhim that he could not quit the spot, so he turned aside to discover, ifpossible, whence it came. Presently he came to a spot where the turfwas smoother and greener than elsewhere, and here the most wonderful andenchanting scene met his gaze. Fairies innumerable were before him;real live fairies, and no mistake. Lying down on the grass, the old mancrept cautiously towards them, and watched their proceedings with deepinterest. They were evidently engaged in the pleasant occupation ofholding a fair. There were stalls, tastefully laid out and decoratedwith garlands of flowers. On these were spread most temptingly all thelittle articles of fairy costume. To be sure the said costume was veryscanty, and to all appearance more picturesque than useful; neverthelessthere was great variety. Some wore heath-bells jauntily stuck on theirheads; some were helmeted with golden blossoms of the furze, and lookedwarlike; others had nothing but their own luxuriant hair to cover them.A few of the lady fairies struck the old man as being remarkablybeautiful, and one of these, who wore an inverted tulip for a skirt,with a small forget-me-not in her golden hair, seemed to him the verypicture of what his old Molly had been fifty years before. It wasparticularly noticeable that the stalls were chiefly patronised by thefairy fair sex, with the exception of one or two which were muchfrequented by the men. At these latter, articles were sold whichmarvellously resembled cigars and brandy, and the old man declared thathe saw them smoke the former, and that he smelt the latter; but as hehad himself been indulging a little that evening in smuggled spirits andtobacco, we must regard this as a somewhat ungenerous statement on hispart, for it is ridiculous to suppose that fairies could be suchsenseless creatures as to smoke or drink! They danced and sang,however, and it was observed that one young man, with a yellow night-capand a bad cold, was particularly conspicuous for his anxiety to bepermitted to sing.
"The music was naturally the great attraction of the evening. Itconsisted of a large band, and although some of the performers usedinstruments made of reeds, and straws, and other hollow substances, cutinto various forms and lengths, most of them had noses which served thepurpose of musical instruments admirably. Indeed, the leader of theband had a prolongation of
the nose so like to a flesh-colouredclarionet, that it might easily have been mistaken for the real thing,and on this he discoursed the most seraphic music. Another fairy besidehim had a much longer nose, which he used as a trombone with greateffect. This fellow was quite a character, and played with suchtremendous energy that, on more than one occasion, he brought on a fitof sneezing, which of course interrupted the music, and put theclarionet in a passion. A stout old misshapen gnome, or some suchcreature, with an enormous head, served for the big drum. Four fairiesheld him down, and a fifth belaboured his head with a drumstick. Itsounded wonderfully hollow, and convinced the old man that it wasdestitute of brains, and not subject to headache.
"All the time that the old man gazed at them, troops of fairiescontinued to arrive, some on the backs of bats, from which they slippedas they whirred past; others descending, apparently, on moonbeams. Theold man even fancied that he saw one attempting to descend by astarbeam, which, being apparently too weak to support his weight, broke,and let him down with a crash into the midst of a party who were verybusy round a refreshment stall, where a liberal supply of mountain dewwas being served out; but the old man never felt quite sure upon thispoint, for, at sight of the mountain dew, he felt so thirsty that hedetermined to taste it. Fixing his eyes on the stall, he suddenly threwhis hat into the midst of the party, and made a dash at it; but, to hisintense disappointment, the vision was instantly dispelled, and nothingwas to be seen on the spot but a few snails creeping over the wet grass,and gossamer threads bespangled with dewdrops."
"A very pretty little vision," exclaimed Oliver, "and not the first thathas been prematurely dispelled by too ardent a pursuit of strong drink!And now, Charlie, as you appear to be in the vein, and we have stillsome distance to go, will you tell me something about the giants, andhow it came to pass that they were so fond of roaming about Cornwall?"
"Their fondness for it, Oliver, must be ascribed to the same cause asyour own--just because it is a lovable place," said Tregarthen;"moreover, being a thinly-peopled county, they were probably not muchdisturbed in their enjoyment of it. To recount their surprising deedswould require a longer space of time than is just now at our disposal,but you have only to look round, in passing through the country, tounderstand what a mighty race of men they were. There are `giants'quoits,' as you know, without end, some of which have the marks of thefingers and thumbs with which they grasped them. Their strength may beestimated by the fact that one of these quoits is no less than fortyfeet long and twenty wide, and weighs some hundreds of tons. It wouldpuzzle even your strong arm to toss such a quoit! One of these giantswas a very notable fellow. He was named `Wrath,' and is said to havebeen in the habit of quenching his thirst at the Holy Well under St.Agnes's Beacon, where the marks of his hands, made in the solid granitewhile he stooped to drink, may still be seen. This rascal, who was wellnamed, is said to have compelled poor St. Agnes, in revenge for herrefusing to listen to his addresses, to carry in her apron to the top ofBeacon Hill the pile of stones which lies there. But here we are atPenzance, so we shall have done with fiction for the present, and revertto matters of fact. You have business with a lawyer, I believe, and Ihave business for a short time with a friend. Let us appoint a time andplace of meeting."
"What say you to the Wherry Mine at two o'clock?" said Oliver. "It isprobable that my business will be concluded by that time, when we can goand see this mine together. My uncle seems to set great store by it,because of an old prophecy to the effect that some day or other it willenrich somebody!"
"Why, that prophecy has been fulfilled long ago," said Tregarthen, witha laugh. "The mine was a bold undertaking, and at one time paid well,but I fear it won't do so again. However, let us meet there; sofarewell, old boy, till two."