he date of the Castle of Tintagel is as much a subject of perplexity
among modern antiquaries, as is the existence of King Arthur among
modern historians. We may still see some ruins of the Castle; but when
or by whom the building was erected which those ruins represent, we have
no means of discovering: we only know that, after the Conquest, it was
inhabited by some of our English princes, and that it was used as a
state prison so late as the reign of Elizabeth. The rest is, for the
most part, mere conjecture, raised upon the weak foundation of a few
mouldering fragments of walls which must soon crumble and disappear as
the rest of the Castle has crumbled and disappeared before them.

The position of the old fortress was, probably, almost impregnable in
the days of its strength and glory. The outer part of it was built on a
precipitous projection of cliff, three hundred feet high, which must
have been wrenched away from the mainland by some tremendous convulsion
of Nature. The inner part stood on the opposite side of the chasm formed
by this convulsion; and both divisions of the fortress were formerly
connected by a draw-bridge. The most interesting portion of the few
ruins now remaining, is that on the outermost promontory, which is
almost entirely surrounded by the sea. The way up to this cliff is by a
steep and somewhat perilous path; so narrow in certain places, where it
winds along the verge of the precipice, that a single false step would
be certain destruction. The difficulties of the ascent appear to have
impressed the old historian of Cornwall, Norden, so vividly that he
tries in his "Survey," to frighten all his readers from attempting it;
warning "unstable man," if he will try to mount the cliff, that "while
he respecteth his footinge he indaungers his head; and looking to save
the head, indaungers the footinge, accordinge to the old proverbe:
_Incidit in Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim_. He must have
eyes,"--ominously adds the worthy Norden--"that will scale Tintagel."

The ruins on the summit of the promontory only consist of a few
straggling walls, loosely piled up, rather than built, with
dark-coloured stone. Some still remain entire enough to show the square
loopholes that were pierced in them for arrows; and, here and there,
fragments of rough irregular arches, which might have been either
doorways or windows, are still visible. Those parts of the building
which have fallen, are concealed by long, thi