ART. III. A Tour through Cornwall in the Autumn of 1808, by the Rev. Richard Warner, of Bath. 8vo. pp. 363. 9s. Boards. Wilkie and Robinson. 1809. THE HE name of the author of this tour must be familiar to those who are in the habit of perusing our critical labours. Exclusive of preceding notices, we had occasion to review in Vol. xl. p. 223. his History of Bath; in Vol. xli. p. 196. his Tour to the West and North of England; and more lately (Vol. xlix. p. 53.) he came before us, in his professional character, as the author of a volume of Practical Discourses.' Mr. Warner has sometimes ventured both to preach and to publish addresses recommending the doctrine of peace, with a degree of earnestness that was scarcely suitable to the present warlike temper of our countrymen; and which a writer who was covetous of popularity alone would no doubt have chosen to avoid. To us, however, he has always appeared to be actuated by charitable and liberal views, and to endeavour to induce others to practise the tenets of that religion which they profess. Under these impressions, we felt pleasure in entering on an examination of the present addition to his literary productions. The subject indeed was too confined to afford much room for the display of ability, and Mr. Warner was perhaps wrong in extending his account of Cornwall alone to the size of a volume but the book is notwithstanding possessed of considerable interest, and is marked, in legible characters, by the same benevolent disposition which pervaded his former publications. The tour takes its beginning from Bath, and is described in the old form of letters. It was executed in company with a friend, with whom Mr. Warner very soon begins to moralize on the good and bad effects of diffusing through a rude and simple people that kind of knowlege which follows the establishment of turnpike roads, and a rapid communication with the capital. The travellers are rather puzzled to decide whether civilization be a goed or an evil, but are relieved from these perplexing cogitations by the pleasant discovery that, in consequence of a new road and the spirit which it had produced, an adjoining tract of 26,000 acres, on the way to Borough-bridge in Somersetshire, had been drained, cultivated, and raised in rent from five to five-and-forty shillings an acre.' The agreeable sensations thus excited were not lessened by the objects which afterward engaged their attention; and indeed the commanding prospect which they enjoyed from Hall-down near Chudleigh, the picturesque scenery of Ivy-bridge, and the diversified beauties of Mount Edgecumbe, deserve to be ranked among the richest rewards of a traveller's labours. At At Falmouth, Mr. Warner's feelings assume a mixed character; the delight afforded by the extent and beauty of the harbour being greatly lessened by the meanness and irregularity of the buildings. This town, though equal in population and wealth to a dozen of Cornish boroughs, sends no member to Parliament; and the neglect, under which government have permitted its harbour to remain, seems to be owing to its want of advocates in the Senate. It has been repeatedly declared that, with a few very practicable alterations, Falmouth would furnish one of the best situations for a dock-yard in Europe.From this place Mr. Warner and his friend proceeded to view the celebrated stone called the Tolmen, and afterward inspected Dolcooth, the largest copper-mine in the county. We make selections from his account of both: Our curiosity had already been excited by a distant view of the famous Druidical Remain in Constantine parish, called by the initiated the Tolmen, or Hole of Stone, by the unlearned the Cornish Pebble, whose huge bulk lifting itself high in air, is seen for miles before it is approached. Our kind and intelligent friend, to whom we had been introduced at Penrhyn, was both our guide to this ancient monument of superstition through an intricate road of eight miles, and the interpreter of its uses and designs when we reached it. Nothing can be more striking than the appearance of this object. It diffused around it the magic influence ascribed by the poet to these druidical remains ; "And aw'd our souls, As if the very Genius of the place, Highly appropriate to its tremendous character is the savage spot on which it stands. The first idea that impressed our minds on approaching it, was the gloomy nature of that superstition which had selected such a desert for its rites, the focal point of solitude and desolation, where nothing met the eye around but nature in her primæval rudeness; vast rocks of granite starting out of the ground, of every form, and in every direction; occupying the same places, and maintaining the same positions into which they had been thrown, by the last general convulsion of our planet. But, however extraordinary these individual masses might have appeared to us, had they been seen in dependently of the Tolmen, our attention was almost exclusively occupied, and our wonder entirely absorbed, by this superlative object; which, like Milton's Satan, "Above the rest, In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower." An account of its dimensions and form will afford you the best idea of the impression produced on the mind by its appearance. The length of the Tolmen is 33 feet, its breadth 18 feet 6 inches, and its depth depth 14 feet 6 inches; measuring 97 feet in circumference, and weighing at least 750 tons. Its figure approaches to that of an egg; the extremities pointing due north and south, and the sides facing the opposite points of the compass. A natural acervation of granite forms the broad foundation of the Tolmen, which is elevated on the points of two of these masses that lift themselves higher that those around. These lie detached from each other, so as to allow a passage of three or four feet wide, and nearly as much in height, for any one to creep through whose curiosity can encounter a little inconvenience. Whether this huge fragment of rock were placed in its present situation by mechanical processes, with which we are no longer acquainted; or by the mere dint of multitudinous and unconquerable exertion, which we know has effected, and can effect prodigies of labour, for, as Johnson observes," savages in all countries have patience proportionate to their unskilfulness, and are content to attain their end by very tedious methods;" or whether the stones remain at this moment as they were originally placed by the hand of Nature, and owe nothing more to human industry than the removal of the bare earth in which they were at first surrounded and concealed, has been disputed with all that ardour, which questions, that never can be demonstrated, invariably excite. We were inclined, after an attentive consideration of the Tolmen, to attribute its elevation to the art of man.'- Purification by svaler was one of the most ancient religious rites, of which we have any knowledge; and though first made a positive institution of worship by the Mosaical law, it is likely that the practice had existed from the earliest ages of mankind. The use of this element, however, in the religious rites of the ancient was not confined to lustration alone; we have accumu. lated proofs, in profane as well as sacred writers, that libations were made of water both as acts of propitiation and as testimonies of gra titude. But whether it was required in the sacred ceremonies, for purifying the worshippers, or as an offering to the deity, it is but reasonable to suppose, that water would be most carefully selected for the hallowed purpose which should be least polluted by heterogeneous substances. Now it is obvious that the most defecated state of this element, is that which falls from heaven under the forms of dew, snow, or rain; which having been produced by evaporation from the earth, and condensation in the atmosphere, must be entirely free from all foreign and polluting particles. Hence it necessarily became an object of care with the priesthood to provide receptacles to catch these precious distillations of the skies, and the method adopted by the Druids for this purpose was, by exposing stones of a large and flat surface to the open air.' The Tolmen was only an introduction to the Druidical remains which ourobliging conductors intended for our inspection. We hastened therefore from this detached monument of Celtic superstition, to one of more ample extent and greater variety, the celebrated Hill of Carnbre, which we reached after a ride of nine or ten miles. The broad and craggy summit of this hill, crowned with a British fortress, and rough with carns, is seen from afar, frowning with barrenness, and towering over the adjacent country. It lies about two miles to the westward westward of Redruth.'-The surface of the hill is covered with circles, cromlechs, and altars, disposed after regular plans, and included within walls, which marked the precincts of the holy ground. It seems, indeed, to have been the Jerusalem of the south-western Druids of Britain; nor perhaps is there in Europe a spot where the character of their most holy places is better illustrated or defined. Like Zion of old, too, it seems to have been the seat of strength, as well as the residence of piety, being defended by a fortress certainly of British construction, and probably coeval with the neighbouring ruder remains of superstition. The older part of this castle (for it has been added to of late years) is august in its appearance, and singular in its structure.'The walls are pierced throughout by loopholes to descry the enemy, or to permit the arrows of the garrison to be discharged on them as they approached. It was near this fortress, that in the month of June 1749, a large collection of gold coins was found, the production of a British mint anterior to the Roman invasion; a few years previous to which discovery, several celts had been dug up in the same neighbourhood; instruments supposed to have been used by the antient Britons for warlike purposes. Perhaps, however, you will now have had enough of the " tales of other times," and be glad to be relieved from Druidism and its rites; and to diversify the scene with a view of the largest Copper Mine in Cornwall, to which we proceeded after having minutely inspected every part of the Carn-bre hill. 'Dolcooth mine lies about three miles to the westward of Carnbre, in a country whose very entrails have been torn out by the industry of man, stimulated by the auri sacra fames. Here every thing is upon a great scale, and gives a wonderful idea of the results which human powers are capable of producing when concentrated into one point, and directed to one end. The works of the mine stretch upwards of a mile in length from east to west; an extent of groundpenetrated by innumerable shafts, and honey-combed by as many subterraneous passages. Its depth is 1200 feet. Five engines are occupied in bringing up ore and rubbish; and three in freeing the mine from water. The largest of these, made by Bolton and Watt, is upon a stupendous scale; but contrived with such ingenious mechanism, that its vast operations are performed with an ease and quickness truly wonderful. The construction of the beam, upon whose strength the whole success of the machine depends, is parti cularly admired. It was quite an awful sight to contemplate this prodigious body in action, bowing and elevating alternately its enor mous crest, executing the work of 200 horses, and bringing up at every stroke (seven of which it makes in a minute) upwards of fifty gallons of water.' The persons employed at Dolcooth mine, including men, women, and children, those who are above and those who are under the earth, amount to about 1600.- Its produce is from 60 to 70 tons of copper per month, and about 30l. worth of tin. The copper is worth, when dressed, gol. per ton. But in order to give you a clear idea of the magnitude of the works, as well as of the expence at which hey are carried on, the following items of monthly charges in different 14 articles articles used in its operations, will, perhaps, be more satisfactory than the most laboured description. The mine consumes (per month) about 2500l. The whole business of this vast concern is under the superintendance and management of a purser, or book-keeper, at eight guineas a month; a chief captain, at thirteen guineas per month; eight,inferior captains, at six guineas per month; and an engineer. The miners provide tools, candles, and gunpowder, are paid no regular wages for their labour, but receive a certain proportion of the profits of the copper, when it is purchased by the merchants.' After having visited these stupendous works of nature and art, the attention of our travellers was directed to the Land's End. They proceeded thither by the towns of Heyl, St. Ives, and Penzance; the last of which, from the mildness of its air, has long been a favourite resort of consumptive invalids. In Cornwall, so large a proportion of the males are employed in the mines and fisheries, that agricultural labour devolves chiefly on the weaker sex: yet, notwithstanding the rude nature of their employment, the beauty and freshness of the Cornish women are remarkable, and are generally attributed to the nature of their diet, which consists chiefly of pilchards. It was the season of harvest when Mr. W. arrived, and he had many opportunities of witnessing the exertions of these fair labourers in the fields. He learned with great regret that the expence of curing fish for the winter-stock had been tripled by the recent duty on salt; a serious burden, in a quarter in which the ordinary wages of a peasant's labour do not exceed seven shillings per week. Holding their course forwards, the travellers reached the village of Sennar, within a mile of the Land's End; in which they were agreeably surprized to find a most convenient inn, bearing on the east the inscription of "the last house in England," and on the west that of " the first house in England." The grandeur of the scene which lay beneath their eyes, on reaching the rocky promontory that terminates England to the west, proved an ample recompence for all their previous fatigue. The head-land advances into the Atlantic like a wedge, and towers majestically above the waves to the height of 250 feet. The whistling of the wind above, the roar of the waves below, and the dark colour of the perpendicular rocks, excited in their minds a terrific admiration; and made them, 7 after |