Mines in the parish of Gwynnap.--Piety and gin.--Rapid progress of
Methodism.--Freaks of fortune.--Pernicious
extravagance.--Minerals.--Mr. Beauchamp’s mansion.--Beautiful
lake.--The wind still contrary.
Falmouth, March 7, 1787.
Scott came this morning and took me to see the consolidated mines in the
parish of Gwynnap; they are situated in a bleak desert, rendered still
more doleful by the unhealthy appearance of its inhabitants. At every
step one stumbles upon ladders that lead into utter darkness, or funnels
that exhale warm copperous vapours. All around these openings the ore is
piled up in heaps waiting for purchasers. I saw it drawn reeking out of
the mine by the help of a machine called a whim, put in motion by mules,
which in their turn are stimulated by impish children hanging over the
poor brutes, and flogging them round without respite. This dismal scene
of _whims_, suffering mules, and hillocks of cinders, extends for
miles. Huge iron engines creaking and groaning, invented by Watt, and
tall chimneys smoking and flaming, that seem to belong to old Nicholas’s
abode, diversify the prospect.
Two strange-looking Cornish beings, dressed in ghostly white, conducted
me about, and very kindly proposed a descent into the bowels of the
earth, but I declined initiation. These mystagogues occupy a tolerable
house, with fair sash windows, where the inspectors of the mine hold
their meetings, and regale upon beef, pudding, and brandy.
While I was standing at the door of this habitation, several woful
figures in tattered garments, with pickaxes on their shoulders, crawled
out of a dark fissure and repaired to a hovel, which I learnt was a
gin-shop. There they pass the few hours allotted them above ground, and
drink, it is to be hoped, an oblivion of their subterraneous existence.
Piety as well as gin helps to fill up their leisure moments, and I was
told that Wesley, who came apostolising into Cornwall a few years ago,
preached on this very spot to above seven thousand followers.
Since this period Methodism has made a very rapid progress, and has been
of no trifling service in diverting the attention of these sons of
darkness from then present condition to the glories of the life to come.
However, some people inform me their actual state is not so much to be
lamented, and that, notwithstanding their pale looks and tattered
raiment, they are far from being poor or unhealthy. Fortune often throws
a considerable sum into their laps when they least expect it, and many a
common miner has been known to gain a hundred pounds in the space of a
month or two. Like sailors in the first effusion of prize-money, they
have no notion of turning their good-luck to advantage; but squander the
fruits of their toil in the silliest species of extravagance. Their
wives are dressed out in tawdry silks, and flaunt away in ale-houses
between rows of obedient fiddlers. The money spent, down they sink again
into damps and darkness.
Having passed about an hour in collecting minerals, stopping engines
with my finger, and performing all the functions of a diligent young man
desirous of information, I turned my back on smokes, flames, and
coal-holes, with great pleasure.
Not above a mile-and-a-half from this black bustling scene, in a
sheltered valley, lies the mansion of Mr. Beauchamp, wrapped up in
shrubberies of laurel and laurustine. Copses of hazel and holly
terminate the prospect on almost every side, and in the midst of the
glen a broad clear stream reflects the impending vegetation. This
transparent water, after performing the part of a mirror before the
house, forms a succession of waterfalls which glitter between slopes of
the smoothest turf, sprinkled with daffodils: numerous flights of
widgeon and Muscovy ducks, were sprucing themselves on the edge of the
stream, and two grave swans seemed highly to approve of its woody
retired banks for the education of their progeny.
Very glad was I to disport on its “margent green,” after crushing
cinders at every step all the morning; had not the sun hid himself, and
the air grown chill, I might have fooled away three or four hours with
the swans and the widgeons, and lost my dinner. Upon my return home, I
found the wind as contrary as ever, and all thoughts of sailing
abandoned.