Rambles Beyond Railways

Wilkie Collins

Description

Many popular nineteenth-century writers published travelogues and essay collections recounting their journeys at home and abroad, but few pulled off this feat with the polish and panache that beloved novelist Wilkie Collins brings to the task. Rambles Beyond Railways recounts a walking tour of Cornwall that Collins and a friend took together, and the vivid writing and charming observations are served up in the author's inimitably warm and engaging style.

Sujets

• Travel writing

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775458562
• Langue: English

Extrait

RAMBLES BEYOND RAILWAYS
NOTES IN CORNWALL TAKEN A-FOOT
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WILKIE COLLINS
 
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Rambles Beyond Railways Notes in Cornwall Taken A-Foot From an 1861 edition ISBN 978-1-77545-856-2 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Preface I - A Letter of Introduction II - A Cornish Fishing Town III - Holy Wells and Druid Relics IV - Cornish People V - Loo-Pool VI - The Lizard VII - The Pilchard Fishery VIII - The Land's End IX - Botallack Mine X - The Modern Drama in Cornwall XI - The Ancient Drama in Cornwall XII - The Nuns of Mawgan XIII - Legends of the Northern Coast The Cruise of the Tomtit I II III IV Endnotes
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DEDICATED TO
THE COMPANION OF MY WALK THROUGH CORNWALL,
HENRY C. BRANDLING.
Preface
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I visited Cornwall, for the first time, in the summer and autumn of1850; and in the winter of the same year, I wrote this book.
At that time, the title attached to these pages was strictly descriptiveof the state of the county, when my companion and I walked through it.But when, little more than a year afterwards, a second edition of thisvolume was called for, the all-conquering railway had invaded Cornwallin the interval, and had practically contradicted me on my owntitle-page.
To rechristen my work was out of the question—I should simply havedestroyed its individuality. Ladies may, and do, often change theirnames for the better; but books enjoy no such privilege. In thisembarrassing position, I ended by treating the ill-timed intrusion ofthe railway into my literary affairs, as a certain Abbe (who was also anauthor,) once treated the overthrow of the Swedish Constitution, in thereign of Gustavus the Third. Having written a profound work, to provethat the Constitution, as at that time settled, was secure from allpolitical accidents, the Abbe was surprised in his study, one day, bythe appearance of a gentleman, who disturbed him over the correction ofhis last proof-sheet. "Sir!" said the gentleman; "I have looked in toinform you that the Constitution has just been overthrown." To which theAbbe replied:—"Sir! they may overthrow the Constitution, but they can'toverthrow MY BOOK"—and he quietly went on with his work.
On precisely similar principles, I quietly went on with MYTITLE-PAGE.
So much for the name of the book. For the book itself, as published inits present form, I have a last word to say, before these prefatorylines come to an end.
Cornwall no longer offers the same comparatively untrodden road to theliterary traveller which it presented when I went there. Many writershave made the journey successfully, since my time. Mr. Walter White, inhis "Londoner's Walk to the Land's End," has followed me, and rivalledme, on my own ground. Mr. Murray has published "The Handbook to Cornwalland Devon"—and detached essays on Cornish subjects, too numerous toreckon up, have appeared in various periodical forms. Under this changeof circumstances, it is not the least of the debts which I owe to theencouraging kindness of my readers, that they have not forgotten"Rambles Beyond Railways," and that the continued demand for the book issuch as to justify the appearance of the present edition. I have, as Ibelieve, to thank the unambitious purpose with which I originallywrote, for thus keeping me in remembrance. All that my book attempts isfrankly to record a series of personal impressions; and, as a necessaryconsequence—though my title is obsolete, and my pedestrian adventuresare old-fashioned—I have a character of my own still left, whichreaders can recognise; and the homely travelling narrative which Ibrought from Cornwall, eleven years since, is not laid on the shelf yet.
I have spared no pains to make these pages worthy of the approval of newreaders. The book has been carefully revised throughout; and certainhastily-written passages, which my better experience condemns asunsuited to the main design, have been removed altogether. Two of thelithographic illustrations, (now no longer in existence) with which myfriend and fellow-traveller, Mr. Brandling, adorned the previouseditions, have been copied on wood, as accurately as circumstances wouldpermit; and a "Postscript" has been added, which now appears inconnexion with the original narrative, for the first time.
The little supplementary sketch thus presented, describes a cruise tothe Scilly Islands, (taken five years after the period of my visit toCornwall), and completes the round of my travelling experiences in thefar West of England. These newly-added pages are written, I am afraid,in a tone of somewhat boisterous gaiety—which I have not, however, hadthe heart to subdue, because it is after all the genuine offspring ofthe "harum-scarum" high spirits of the time. The "Cruise of the Tomtit"was, from first to last, a practical burlesque; and the good-naturedreader will, I hope, not think the worse of me, if I beg him to stand onno ceremony and to laugh his way through it as heartily as he can.
HARLEY STREET, LONDON,
March, 1861 .
I - A Letter of Introduction
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DEAR READER,
When any friend of yours or mine, in whose fortunes we take an interest,is about to start on his travels, we smooth his way for him as well aswe can, by giving him a letter of introduction to such connexions ofours as he may find on his line of route. We bespeak their favourableconsideration for him by setting forth his good qualities in the bestlight possible; and then leave him to make his own way by his ownmerit—satisfied that we have done enough in procuring him a welcomeunder our friend's roof, and giving him at the outset a claim to ourfriend's estimation.
Will you allow me, reader (if our previous acquaintance authorizes meto take such a liberty), to follow the custom to which I have justadverted; and to introduce to your notice this Book, as a friend of minesetting forth on his travels, in whose well-being I feel a very livelyinterest. He is neither so bulky nor so distinguished a person as someof the predecessors of his race, who may have sought your attention inyears gone by, under the name of "Quarto," and in magnificent clothingof Morocco and Gold. All that I can say for his outside is, that I havemade it as neat as I can—having had him properly thumped into wearinghis present coat of decent cloth, by the most competent book-tailor Icould find. As for his intrinsic claims to your kindness, he has onlytwo that I shall venture to advocate. In the first place he is able totell you something about a part of your own country which is still toorarely visited and too little known. He will speak to you of one of theremotest and most interesting corners of our old English soil. He willtell you of the grand and varied scenery; the mighty Druid relics; thequaint legends; the deep, dark mines; the venerable remains of earlyChristianity; and the pleasant primitive population of the county ofCORNWALL. You will inquire, can we believe him in all that hesays? This brings me at once to his second qualification—he invariablyspeaks the truth. If he describes scenery to you, it is scenery that hesaw and noted on the spot; and if he adds some little sketches ofcharacter, I answer for him, on my own responsibility, that they aresketches drawn from the life.
Have I said enough about my friend to interest you in his fortunes, whenyou meet him wandering hither and thither over the great domain of theRepublic of Letters—or, must I plead more warmly in his behalf? I canonly urge on you that he does not present himself as fit for the topseats at the library table,—as aspiring to the company of those abovehim,—of classical, statistical, political, philosophical, historical,or antiquarian high dignitaries of his class, of whom he is at best butthe poor relation. Treat him not, as you treat such illustrious guestsas these! Toss him about anywhere, from hand to hand, as good-naturedlyas you can; stuff him into your pocket when you get into the railway;take him to bed with you, and poke him under the pillow; present him tothe rising generation, to try if he can amuse them ; give him to theyoung ladies, who are always predisposed to the kind side, and may makesomething of him; introduce him to "my young masters" when they areidling away a dull morning over their cigars. Nay, advance him if youwill, to the notice of the elders themselves; but take care to ascertainfirst that they are people who only travel to gratify a heartyadmiration of the wonderful works of Nature, and to learn to love theirneighbour better by seeking him at his own home—regarding it, at thesame time, as a peculiar privilege, to derive their satisfaction andgain their improvement from experiences on English ground. Take care ofthis; and who knows into what high society you may not be able tointroduce the bearer of the present letter! In spite of his habit oframbling from subject to subject in his talk, much as he rambled fromplace to place in his travels, he may actually find himself, one day,basking on Folio Classics beneath the genial approval of a Doctor ofDivinity, or trembling among Statutes and Reports under the learnedscrutiny of a Sergeant at Law!
W. C.
HARLEY STREET, LONDON,
March, 1861.
II - A Cornish Fishing Town
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The time is ten o'clock at night—the scene, a bank by the roadside,crested with young fir-trees, and affording a temporary place of reposeto two travellers, who are enjoying the cool night air, picturesquelyextended flat on their backs—or rather, on