Trevethlan: A Cornish Story. Volume 1 (of 3) — John Shaqi
Trevethlan: A Cornish Story. Volume 1 (of 3)Watson, William Davy
General
Trevethlan: A Cornish Story. Volume 1 (of 3)
Watson, William Davy
Cornwall (England : County) -- Fiction
Trevethlan Castle was an extensive pile of Tudor architecture, situate
on a bold headland projecting into the sea between the Lizard and
Marazion. The state apartments stretched along the cliff, and
commanded a fine view of Mount's Bay and the surrounding uplands;
while the other buildings of the castle, strengthened at intervals by
lofty towers, enclosed an irregular court-yard. The remains of walls
and ruined turrets, sweeping inland, marked the circuit of what had
once been the base-court--a spacious area, where Owen Trevethlan
mustered his vassals to pursue Perkin Warbeck's rebels, obtaining for
his services on that occasion the title of baron. This honour had,
however, been allowed to lapse; and, although it was stated to be
easily recoverable, no subsequent head of the family had chosen to
moot the question. Perhaps they thought their name sufficiently
distinguished without any addition: perhaps the fact that, being a
crotchetty race, they were almost always in opposition to the Crown,
made them loth to seek even the shadow of a favour.
But the days of feudal violence and civil dudgeon were long gone by;
and instead of the clang of arms and the tramp of soldiers, the
base-court of Trevethlan Castle now echoed no sound more military than
the occasional crack of a fowling-piece; and its silence was more
generally broken by the mower sharpening his scythe, or the gardener
trailing a roller. Sooth to say, even these peaceful noises had been
very rare for a long time previous to the opening of this tale: the
garden which occupied the old place of arms had fallen into neglect;
the ivy, which might have been ornamental to the ruined walls and
outworks, stifled the trees and shrubs in its oppressive embrace; the
flowers struggled hard for life amidst a host of weeds; the grass of
the lawn, unmown since the summer, when it was cut for hay, was rusty
and patchy; the gravel walks were green and mouldy. One little plot of
ground, however, was an oasis in the general desert: it occupied an
angle of the castle, having a southern aspect, and was screened from
the sea-breezes by the wall along the cliff: here trim flower-beds
were cut in a small expanse of turf, and displayed, even at this
advanced season, not a few gems of horticulture.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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